#the hand of the giant and the heart of the brave / must turn weak and submit to the worm and the grave!

[lotrmusical]

never let anyone tell you that trawling through mediocre victorian poetry isn't worth it. we just happened upon an absolute BANGER of a worm poem. go read it or else 🪱🪱🪱

[foursaints]

sort of a controversial opinion but i want to start seeing peter pettigrew included in aesthetic edits about the death eater squad & their vengeful pureblood decadence

[fandom-go-round]

Now that I've read it I feel like I need a part 2 of the mer astrotrain x reader. Astrotrain just drags the reader's boat back to his home. He just has their boat in one hand as he's staring at them. After they touched his hand, his sharp toothy grin can't help but show. Astrotrain holds the boat in his palms as he swims back to his cave, not wanting to share this tiny creature, no, this *jewel* both the others cons. As he holds the reader he uses a hand to carefully pick then up out of the boat to get a better look. All the while the reader just wants to go home and sleep.

Part One: https://fandom-go-round.tumblr.com/post/752038861802176512/can-you-do-astrotrain-x-reader-where-the-reader

There isn’t anything you can do as the giant creature begins to take you with him. After he set your boat gently back in the water, you turned to try and figure out a way home. Luck was not on your side. One of those giant palms curls around you and begins to drag you through the water. It’s hard to tell where you’re going, between the fog and rushing wind. All you can really do is clench your eyes shut and pray it’s over soon.

The giant begins to slow and you crack your eyes open, taking in a massive cave. You don’t recognize the rock formation in front of you but it’s menacing, a sheer cliff face rising into the sky until it disappears. You have no idea if the hole is natural or created but the creature swims in easily and your heart sinks; the water must be deep.

The middle of the cave isn’t anything too exciting. You only see winding tunnel behind you, no open water to be seen. There’s a pile of rocks along the back wall, creating a jagged little island. Your boat is pushed on the rocks until it’s wedged and you worry that you’re never going to be able to free it. You take shaky steps off of the boat, turning as the sound of rushing water fills the cave.

Astrotrain can’t help but grin, you really are brave! You’re not cowering on your little boat, no you’re out and about, checking out his cave. He gives a deep, satisfied rumble and your eyes go wide as he reaches for you. He’s gentle (or as gentle as he can be), turning you over and checking you’re uninjured. You make a weak sound of protest but he ignores it, setting you back down after a moment. Without a word he sinks into the water and you watch him, legs giving out as you land on your ass. Well fuck.

[lumi-waxes-poetic]

The Wanderer: an Old English Poem

Often the solitary one experiences mercy for himself,

the mercy of the Measurer, although he, troubled in spirit,

over the ocean must long

stir with his hands the rime-cold sea,

travel the paths of exile – Fate is inexorable.”

So said the wanderer, mindful of hardships,

of cruel deadly combats, the fall of dear kinsmen –

“Often alone each morning I must

Bewail my sorrow; there is now none living

to whom I dare tell clearly my inmost thoughts.

I know indeed that it is a noble custom in a man

to bind fast his thoughts with restraint,

hold his treasure-chest, think what he will.

The man weary in spirit cannot withstand fate,

nor may the troubled mind offer help.

Therefore those eager for praise often bind a sad mind

in their breast-coffer with restraint.

So I, miserably sad, separated from homeland,

far from my noble kin, had to bind my thoughts with fetters,

since that long ago the darkness of the earth

covered my gold-friend, and I, abject,

proceeded thence, winter-sad, over the binding of the waves.

Sad, I sought the hall of a giver of treasure,

Where I might find, far or near,

one who in the meadhall might know about my people,

or might wish to comfort me, friendless,

entertain with delights.

He knows who experiences it

how cruel care is as a companion,

to him who has few beloved protectors.

The path of exile awaits him, not twisted gold,

frozen feelings, not earth’s glory.

he remembers retainers and the receiving of treasure,

how in youth his gold-friend

accustomed him to the feast. But all pleasure has failed.

Indeed he knows who must for a long time do without

the counsels of his beloved lord

when sorrow and sleep together

often bind the wretched solitary man–

he thinks in his heart that he

embraces and kisses his lord, and lays

hands and head on his knee, just as he once at times

in former days, enjoyed the gift-giving.

Then the friendless man awakes again,

sees before him the dusky waves,

the seabirds bathing, spreading their wings,

frost and snow fall, mingled with hail.

Then are his heart’s wounds the heavier because of that,

sore with longing for a loved one. Sorrow is renewed

when the memory of kinsmen passes through his mind;

he greets with signs of joy, eagerly surveys

his companions, warriors. They swim away again.

The spirit of the floating ones never brings there many familiar utterances.

Care is renewed for the one who must very often send

his weary spirit over the binding of the waves,

Therefore I cannot think why throughout the world

my mind should not grow dark

when I contemplate all the life of men,

how they suddenly left the hall floor,

brave young retainers. So this middle-earth fails and falls each day;

therefore a man may not become wise before he owns a share of winters in the kingdom of this world.

A wise man must be patient,

nor must he ever be too hot tempered, nor too hasty of speech,

nor too weak in battles, nor too heedless,

nor too fearful, nor too cheerful, nor too greedy for wealth,

nor ever too eager for boasting before he knows for certain.

A man must wait, when he speaks a boast,

until, stout-hearted, he knows for certain

whither the thought of the heart may wish to turn.

The prudent man must realize how ghastly it will be

when all the wealth of this world stands waste,

as now variously throughout this middle-earth

walls stand beaten by the wind,

covered with rime, snow-covered the dwellings.

The wine-halls go to ruin, the rulers lie

deprived of joy, the host has all perished proud by the wall.

Some war took, carried on the way forth; one a bird carried off

over the high sea; one the gray wolf shared

with Death; one a sad-faced nobleman

buried in an earth-pit.

So the Creator of men laid waste this region,

until the ancient world of giants, lacking the noises

of the citizens, stood idle.

He who deeply contemplates this wall-stead,

and this dark life with wise thought,

old in spirit, often remembers long ago,

a multitude of battles, and speaks these words:

“Where is the horse? Where is the young warrior? Where is the giver of treasure?

Where are the seats of the banquets? Where are the joys in the hall?

Alas the bright cup! Alas the mailed warrior!

Alas the glory of the prince! How the time has gone,

vanished under night’s helm, as if it never were!

Now in place of a beloved host stands

a wall wondrously high, decorated with the likenesses of serpents.

The powers of spears took the noblemen,

weapons greedy for slaughter; fate the renowned,

and storms beat against these rocky slopes,

falling snowstorm binds the earth,

the noise of winter, then the dark comes.

The shadow of night grows dark, sends from the north

a rough shower of hail in enmity to the warriors.

All the kingdom of earth is full of trouble,

the operation of the fates changes the world under the heavens.

Here wealth is transitory, here friend is transitory,

here man is transitory, here woman is transitory,

this whole foundation of the earth becomes empty."

So spoke the wise in spirit, sat by himself in private meditation.

"He who is good keeps his pledge, nor shall the man ever manifest

the anger of his breast too quickly, unless he, the man,

should know beforehand how to accomplish the remedy with courage.

It will be well for him who seeks grace,

comfort from the Father in the heavens,

where a fastness stands for us all."

[gwydionmisha]

Song of the Worm Cook, Eliza

THE worm, the rich worm, has a noble domain In the field that is stored with its millions of slain; The charnel-grounds widen, to me they belong, With the vaults of the sepulchre, sculptured and strong. The tower of ages in fragments is laid, Moss grows on the stones, and I lurk in its shade; And the hand of the giant and heart of the brave Must turn weak and submit to the worm and the grave.

Daughters of earth, if I happen to meet Your bloom-plucking fingers and sod-treading feet-- Oh! turn not away with the shriek of disgust From the thing you must mate with in darkness and dust. Your eyes may be flashing in pleasure and pride, 'Neath the crown of a Queen or the wreath of a bride; Your lips may be fresh and your cheeks may be fair-- Let a few years pass over, and I shall be there.

Cities of splendour, where palace and gate, Where the marble of strength and the purple of state; Where the mart and arena, the olive and vine, Once flourished in glory; oh! are ye not mine? Go look for famed Carthage, and I shall be found In the desolate ruin and weed-covered mound; And the slime of my trailing discovers my home, 'Mid the pillars of Tyre and the temples of Rome.

I am sacredly sheltered and daintily fed Where the velvet bedecks, and the white lawn is spread; I may feast undisturbed, I may dwell and carouse On the sweetest of lips and the smoothest of brows. The voice of the sexton, the chink of the spade, Sound merrily under the willow's dank shade. They are carnival notes, and I travel with glee To learn what the churchyard has given to me.

Oh! the worm, the rich worm, has a noble domain, For where monarchs are voiceless I revel and reign; I delve at my ease and regale where I may; None dispute with the worm in his will or his way. The high and the bright for my feasting must fall-- Youth, Beauty, and Manhood, I prey on ye all: The Prince and the peasant, the despot and slave; All, all must bow down to the worm and the grave.

[thesquireinvictus]

THE worm, the rich worm, has a noble domain In the field that is stored with its millions of slain; The charnel-grounds widen, to me they belong, With the vaults of the sepulchre, sculptured and strong. The tower of ages in fragments is laid, Moss grows on the stones, and I lurk in its shade; And the hand of the giant and heart of the brave Must turn weak and submit to the worm and the grave. Daughters of earth, if I happen to meet Your bloom-plucking fingers and sod-treading feet-- Oh! turn not away with the shriek of disgust From the thing you must mate with in darkness and dust. Your eyes may be flashing in pleasure and pride, 'Neath the crown of a Queen or the wreath of a bride; Your lips may be fresh and your cheeks may be fair-- Let a few years pass over, and I shall be there. Cities of splendour, where palace and gate, Where the marble of strength and the purple of state; Where the mart and arena, the olive and vine, Once flourished in glory; oh! are ye not mine? Go look for famed Carthage, and I shall be found In the desolate ruin and weed-covered mound; And the slime of my trailing discovers my home, 'Mid the pillars of Tyre and the temples of Rome. I am sacredly sheltered and daintily fed Where the velvet bedecks, and the white lawn is spread; I may feast undisturbed, I may dwell and carouse On the sweetest of lips and the smoothest of brows. The voice of the sexton, the chink of the spade, Sound merrily under the willow's dank shade. They are carnival notes, and I travel with glee To learn what the churchyard has given to me. Oh! the worm, the rich worm, has a noble domain, For where monarchs are voiceless I revel and reign; I delve at my ease and regale where I may; None dispute with the worm in his will or his way. The high and the bright for my feasting must fall-- Youth, Beauty, and Manhood, I prey on ye all: The Prince and the peasant, the despot and slave; All, all must bow down to the worm and the grave.

Song of the Worm, Eliza Cook (1818-1889)

[daffenger]

The worm, the rich worm, has a noble domain In the field that is stored with its millions of slain; The charnel-grounds widen, to me they belong, With the vaults of the sepulchre, sculptured and strong. The tower of ages in fragments is laid, Moss grows on the stones, and I lurk in its shade; And the hand of the giant and heart of the brave Must turn weak and submit to the worm and the grave. [...]

Song of the Worm, Eliza Cook (1869) (full text here)

[ttotho]

Song of the Worm

by Eliza Cook

THE worm, the rich worm, has a noble domain

In the field that is stored with its millions of slain ;

The charnel-grounds widen, to me they belong,

With the vaults of the sepulchre, sculptured and strong.

The tower of ages in fragments is laid,

Moss grows on the stones, and I lurk in its shade ;

And the hand of the giant and heart of the brave

Must turn weak and submit to the worm and the grave.

Daughters of earth, if I happen to meet

Your bloom-plucking fingers and sod-treading feet--

Oh ! turn not away with the shriek of disgust

From the thing you must mate with in darkness and dust.

Your eyes may be flashing in pleasure and pride,

'Neath the crown of a Queen or the wreath of a bride ;

Your lips may be fresh and your cheeks may be fair--

Let a few years pass over, and I shall be there.

Cities of splendour, where palace and gate,

Where the marble of strength and the purple of state ;

Where the mart and arena, the olive and vine,

Once flourished in glory ; oh ! are ye not mine ?

Go look for famed Carthage, and I shall be found

In the desolate ruin and weed-covered mound ;

And the slime of my trailing discovers my home,

'Mid the pillars of Tyre and the temples of Rome.

I am sacredly sheltered and daintily fed

Where the velvet bedecks, and the white lawn is spread ;

I may feast undisturbed, I may dwell and carouse

On the sweetest of lips and the smoothest of brows.

The voice of the sexton, the chink of the spade,

Sound merrily under the willow's dank shade.

They are carnival notes, and I travel with glee

To learn what the churchyard has given to me.

Oh ! the worm, the rich worm, has a noble domain,

For where monarchs are voiceless I revel and reign ;

I delve at my ease and regale where I may ;

None dispute with the worm in his will or his way.

The high and the bright for my feasting must fall--

Youth, Beauty, and Manhood, I prey on ye all :

The Prince and the peasant, the despot and slave ;

All, all must bow down to the worm and the grave.

[lynniceberg]

Song of the Worm

by Eliza Cook

 THE worm, the rich worm, has a noble domain

In the field that is stored with its millions of slain ;

The charnel-grounds widen, to me they belong,

With the vaults of the sepulchre, sculptured and strong.

The tower of ages in fragments is laid,

Moss grows on the stones, and I lurk in its shade ;

And the hand of the giant and heart of the brave

Must turn weak and submit to the worm and the grave.

Daughters of earth, if I happen to meet

Your bloom-plucking fingers and sod-treading feet--

Oh ! turn not away with the shriek of disgust

From the thing you must mate with in darkness and dust.

Your eyes may be flashing in pleasure and pride,

'Neath the crown of a Queen or the wreath of a bride ;

Your lips may be fresh and your cheeks may be fair--

Let a few years pass over, and I shall be there.

Cities of splendour, where palace and gate,

Where the marble of strength and the purple of state ;

Where the mart and arena, the olive and vine,

Once flourished in glory ; oh ! are ye not mine ?

Go look for famed Carthage, and I shall be found

In the desolate ruin and weed-covered mound ;

And the slime of my trailing discovers my home,

'Mid the pillars of Tyre and the temples of Rome.

I am sacredly sheltered and daintily fed

Where the velvet bedecks, and the white lawn is spread ;

I may feast undisturbed, I may dwell and carouse

On the sweetest of lips and the smoothest of brows.

The voice of the sexton, the chink of the spade,

Sound merrily under the willow's dank shade.

They are carnival notes, and I travel with glee

To learn what the churchyard has given to me.

Oh ! the worm, the rich worm, has a noble domain,

For where monarchs are voiceless I revel and reign ;

I delve at my ease and regale where I may ;

None dispute with the worm in his will or his way.

The high and the bright for my feasting must fall--

Youth, Beauty, and Manhood, I prey on ye all :

The Prince and the peasant, the despot and slave ;

All, all must bow down to the worm and the grave.

Song of the Worm by Eliza Cook

Happy Poetry Month!

[red-velvet-0w0]

i have 1 memorized and part of one memorized

("Nothing gold can stay", Robert Frost)

Natures first green is god

her hardest hue to hold

her early leaf's a flower

but only so an hour

then leaf subsides to leaf

so eden sank to greif

so dawn goes down to day

nothing gold can stay

("Song of the Worm" Eliza Cook)

the worm, the rich worm, has a noble domain

in the fields that are stored with its millions of slain

the charnel grounds widen, to me they belong

the vaults of the sepulcher, sculptured and strong

the tower of ages in fragments is laid

moss grows on the stones and I lurk in the shade

and the hand of the giant and the heart of the brave

must turn weak and submit to the worm and the grave

poll time. yes this is just a ploy to get people to recommend me poems

if yes, let me know which poems/recite some for me in the tags!

[roscommon-2-rhodes]

Song of the Worm

The worm, the rich worm, has a noble domain In the field that is stored with its millions of slain; The charnel-grounds widen, to me they belong, With the vaults of the sepulchre, sculptured and strong. The tower of ages in fragments is laid, Moss grows on the stones, and I lurk in its shade; And the hand of the giant and heart of the brave Must turn weak and submit to the worm and the grave.

Daughters of earth, if I happen to meet Your bloom-plucking fingers and sod-treading feet-- Oh! turn not away with the shriek of disgust From the thing you must mate with in darkness and dust. Your eyes may be flashing in pleasure and pride, 'Neath the crown of a Queen or the wreath of a bride; Your lips may be fresh and your cheeks may be fair-- Let a few years pass over, and I shall be there.

Cities of splendour, where palace and gate, Where the marble of strength and the purple of state; Where the mart and arena, the olive and vine, Once flourished in glory; oh! are ye not mine? Go look for famed Carthage, and I shall be found In the desolate ruin and weed-covered mound; And the slime of my trailing discovers my home, 'Mid the pillars of Tyre and the temples of Rome.

I am sacredly sheltered and daintily fed Where the velvet bedecks, and the white lawn is spread; I may feast undisturbed, I may dwell and carouse On the sweetest of lips and the smoothest of brows. The voice of the sexton, the chink of the spade, Sound merrily under the willow's dank shade. They are carnival notes, and I travel with glee To learn what the churchyard has given to me.

Oh! the worm, the rich worm, has a noble domain, For where monarchs are voiceless I revel and reign; I delve at my ease and regale where I may; None dispute with the worm in his will or his way. The high and the bright for my feasting must fall-- Youth, Beauty, and Manhood, I prey on ye all: The Prince and the peasant, the despot and slave; All, all must bow down to the worm and the grave.

-Eliza Cook (1818-1889)

The Poetical Works of Eliza Cook (London: Frederick Warne and Co., [1869]): 181-82.

[melianlmao]

Pancakes For Dinner

Chapter Two: Rinnie Poo

Previous ༆ Masterlist ༆ Next

Warnings: Cursing as always, Mentions of Y/n and Suna being Fwb, Alcohol

A/n: Lmao torturing one of my favorite boys is kinda fun. After all this is said and done I'm gonna have to write some tooth rotting fluff to make up for the pain I'm putting him through. Enjoy!

You lay your phone down beside you where you lay sprawled out on the king sized mattress in Atsumu's guest room. 

You sigh and get up, heading into your brother's enormous living room. His whole penthouse apartment was huge and luxurious and must cost a fortune to rent. 

"They must pay good money for playing with balls." You joke, nudging Atsumu's shoulder playfully.

"Why do ya always gotta put it like that?" He groans, but you can see the smile that overtakes his face. 

You laugh as he slides you a drink. 

"Alcohol this early into the night?" You question but take a sip anyway. 

"Oh come on, it's a celebration." He grins and you roll your eyes. 

As if on cue the door bursts open and in comes Osamu, Suna, and a blue eyed brunette. 

"Well well well, look who's all grown up." You whistle and Melian grins.

"Well well well yourself." He laughs pulling you in for a hug. When she lets you go, Atsumu gives them a drink and they chat idly with him as you wander over to the couch where Suna sits, man spread and his arm over the back of the couch. 

You sidle up next to him right in the crook of his arm and hand him a drink. He takes it with a wink and sips it without a word as you pick up Atsumu's remote, and login to his Netflix. 

He watches you scroll through the movies with hitched breath. He missed you so much more than he'd ever admit. Even if the two of you were nothing more than Best friends and occasionally fuck buddies. 

His feelings for you had long evolved from just sexual and platonic, but he knows it's not reciprocated. 

But here in the soft glow of the kitchen lights where your brothers and Mel chat and laugh and the flicker of the tv screen he can't help the way his heart skips a beat when you turn to him and ask if he wants to watch whatever movie you'd stopped on.

He just nods, scared that if he talks it'll come out broken and weak.

You take another sip of your drink and feel the warm buzz enveloping you as you settle into Suna's side. Mel, Osamu, and Atsumu all flock in from the kitchen and spread out on the giant leather couch. 

About 20 minutes into the horrible horror film you and Mel are catching up and then comes the question. 

"What do you do now?" They ask and you can feel the wave of nerves. As a college student in the states there isn't so much one can do to make a livable wage so you'd started a small YouTube channel where you'd sing covers of your favorite songs to keep your mind off of money troubles.

But it didn't just become a way to keep yourself occupied outside of school, before you knew it you had hit almost 8.5k and you were making money from it.

You moved to Spotify and even more profit came back from your simple hobby. 

Suna had known since day one, you were excited to share your talent with your best friend, but for some reason you'd kept it a secret from your brothers. 

Maybe it was because they were both successful. Heck, Osamu owns his own restaurant and Atsumu is a professional volleyball player, and you just sing other people's songs.

Alas, the alcohol makes you brave so you pull out your phone and pull up your YouTube. 

"I do song covers on YouTube and Spotify and get paid." You say as Mel's eyes widen in surprise. 

"No way! I love your song covers, a friend introduced me and I haven't been able to stop listening!" She squealed.

Osamu and Atsumu had the same shocked expression and Suna chuckled.

"I'm guessing they didn't know?" He asks but it's more of a statement than anything.

"Wonder what else they don't know." You purred, running a finger down his jawline. 

"Wow okay right in front of my popcorn guys?" Osamu clears his throat as you laugh and turn your attention back to the movie.

"Rinnie Poo, your best friend who you could never date" lets out yet another sigh and tries his best not to read into the way you cuddle into his side. 

--------------------------------------------------

Taglist:

Send an ask or dm to be added!

@membranexx @fi-chanwrites

[berrydoodleoo]

If Ignis were himself, he would no doubt have counseled them against the trip, or at least proposed some kind of clever work around. Gladio would have loomed and grumbled, and then would have been the first to bow at Luna’s bedside with some courtly, if gruff, remark. But of course, Ignis wasn’t himself, and really, neither was Gladio. And Noctis knew it was all his fault.

But Prompto was insistent, and he was trying so hard to be himself and keep things light. He'd taken over Iggy’s duties of cooking and planning their trip, and still found time and energy to help Ignis activate the handicap settings on his phone while keeping up a steady stream of light-hearted chatter. Not to mention visiting Luna and helping out with the rescue and relief efforts. It was like watching someone do a ballet in a field full of giant boulders – three of which were named Ignis, Noctis, and Gladiolus – he just kept moving, kept dancing, and you almost couldn’t see the toll it was taking on him.

Almost.

So Prompto brought up visiting Luna’s hospital room again, as-if casually, mentioning that he’d had word from Weskham as to where she was currently hidden, and that he was sure he could get them in without being noticed by Imperial spies. And besides, Pryna had licked his hand when he’d visited last, which probably meant that Luna was going to wake up soon, any day now, and wouldn’t it be something if she woke up while Noct was there? A kiss from Prince Charming, eh?

Gladio had snorted, an ugly, mocking sound, and Prompto had stuttered to a halt, with an expression like his heart was breaking. Ignis had averted his face, just slightly. Shutting the whole world out. And Noctis had dredged up a voice (his own? someone else’s?) from the vise clamping his chest and said sure, Prom, let’s go.

And so they did.

Traveling the streets of devastated Altissia in Lucian royal black was probably unwise, but Prompto seemed to exude a notice-me-not aura that, in conjunction with the chaos still gripping the city, was enough to let them travel unmolested. They kept to the areas packed with refugees where possible, where everyone had their eyes glued to the screens announcing ferries and how long the current wait lists were (some were hours, most were days) instead of at each other. It did nothing for his nerves, which were a constant jangle, but at least no one stopped them. Or worse, shouted, hey, Prince Noctis!

The hospital was mostly intact, at least from the outside. Upon entering, it became clear that it had suffered a beating, either from Leviathan or the Imperial forces. The first level was still flooded, the polished marble turned treacherous by a thin layer of mud. The smell of mold competed with the smell of hospital bleach, and Noctis almost gagged.

There was a crowd here, too, too many people to fit in the emergency room reserved for the most critical cases. Noctis stood aside as Prompto shuffled about, standing on his toes, trying to find the best way forward without attracting too much attention.

A little kid with a bloody rag tied to his forehead stared at them. Noctis met his eyes and then regretted it, trying to look away and act casual. When he glanced up, the kid had wandered from his sleeping mother to stand beside them, still staring silently.

Prompto almost collided with the kid, and then did a double-take. “Hey!” he exclaimed quietly, and he sounded happy. “Stanford, my man!” He crouched, careful to keep the edges of his jacket out of the water. “How you doin’? Still waiting for a doctor, huh?”

Stanford – he must have been a few years younger than Talcott, too young to be so injured and haunted-looking – nodded, popping his filthy thumb into his mouth.

“Can I take a look, dude?” Prompto asked, gentle, touching the bandage on the child’s head. He nodded again.

It made Noctis’ eyes water, seeing how gentle Prompto was with the kid. He unwound the bandage and checked the wound beneath – the sight made Noctis wince – and produced some wrapped bandages and antiseptic wipes seemingly from his pocket (Noct felt the tug that meant they’d really come from the Armiger). He talked the whole time – man, those are cool shoes, I love chocobos, and how old are you again, dude? like, sixteen, right? or seventeen, you’re in high school, right – trying to coax some words out of him. Stanford was clearly listening, half-smiling at Prompto’s jokes, but was otherwise unresponsive.

He submitted to the cleaning with only a little tearyness. When he finally spoke, it wasn’t about anything Prompto had said.

“Do you have more magic potions?” he asked hopefully.

Prompto winced, shooting a quick glance at Noct. They’d agreed early on not to share their potions with people – it was too easy to trace them back to Noct, and Ignis was always concerned they would run out at the worst possible moment (which, to be fair, they had done so more than once).

“Not at the moment, little dude,” Prompto was jittering, hurrying to finish wrapping the bandage, “but uh, maybe later, I can, uh–”

Noctis reached into his back pocket and summoned a potion from the Armiger, the same trick Prompto had just pulled. It was weak – he just hadn’t been able to summon the magic for a proper Elixir once it was clear they wouldn’t help Ignis’ eyes – but it would help ward off infection and help with pain management. For a little while.

Stanford’s eyes lit up, and he started to snatch the glowing bottle from Noct’s hand. But then he hesitated. “For – for me?” he asked, staring up at Noct with the hugest eyes he’d ever seen.

“Yeah.” Noct tried to smile for him, extending the potion a bit further. “Of course.”

Stanford accepted the bottle, hugging it to his chest as if were a precious treasure. Now his eyes glowed with happiness, watching Noct, and he stood obediently still as Prompto finished retying the headband that kept his bandage in place. “Can I share it with my mom?” he eventually asked.

Noctis glanced at the sleeping woman, and wondered what was wrong with her. Was she injured, too, or just exhausted? “Yeah,” he said again. “Just don’t tell anyone else, okay?”

Would the woman even accept it, if her son told her he had a magic potion from a strange man? Well, maybe she would assume it came from a doctor, or that it was still the harmless bottle of (Noctis checked) apple juice it had started out as. Albeit glowing apple juice. Well, marketing, right? Maybe it wouldn’t seem too weird.

It was Stanford’s to do with as he chose. If he wanted to give it to his mom, or a total stranger, or pour it down the drain, Noctis wouldn’t stop him. He just didn’t have the energy.

Stanford’s eyes went even wider, but he nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said.

Brave little man. Noctis tried to smile for him again, moved his lips in the familiar gesture, and the kid tried to smile in return. If his own forced smile made him look as sad as Stanford’s did, Noctis mused, then it was no wonder people kept flinching away at the sight.

~

They found an un-monitored stairwell, the door blocked off with yellow tape. It quickly became clear as to why it was locked down – some tree branches and half a gondola were poking through the battered walls, tossed through marble and concrete by Leviathan’s rage. Worse, there were puddles of slimy water everywhere.

Prompto kept ahold on Noct’s arm – Noct realized he’d been doing that since they left their borrowed refuge in the Secretary’s home, as if Noct would drift away without the anchor – as they made their way up the stairs. “I don’t think he’s gonna keep it a secret, man.”

Noct had to blink himself back to the present. “Huh?”

“Stanford. With the potion.”

Noct shrugged. “Didn’t get the impression he was talking much.”

“Noct…”

“It’s not a big deal. We’ll be out of here soon.”

Prompto seemed deflated, guiding him up the stairs. “Yeah.”

Noct let himself be led. What did Prompto expect him to say? Maybe he wanted Noct to go back down the stairs and offer to help everyone else in the room. Give out their store of potions, grab some bottles of water and start enchanting those, too. Act like a king for once, instead of piece of luggage that had to be carted to and fro by people smarter and more capable.

“I just feel bad, you know?” Prompto said, his voice echoing a bit in the humid, smelly space. “I’ve never done anything to deserve you guys – traveling with you guys, using your magic, seeing the gods, I – I don’t deserve any of this – this magic, this specialness, I’m just –” He swallowed. “And then there’s kids like Stanford, and man, I just don’t know. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know anything.”

Noctis let his arm slide through Prompto’s grip until he could squeeze his hand. They paused, side-by-side as they sidled around a piece of crushed stairwell, and Prompto squeezed back. Hard.

~

Noct started feeling floaty once they left the stairwell. Parts of this floor were still in use, despite the damage and the flickering lights. But Prompto knew the way, avoiding the lighted areas, and led him to a dark hallway behind more yellow tape.

Noct felt his steps slowing. He and Prompto’s arms, connected by their held hands, stretched like a rope between two ships tugged in opposite directions. They reached a door, Prompto produced a key, and Noct thought he might faint. He pulled free of Prompto’s grip to lean against the wall, heart laboring, spots filling his vision.

Luna. Luna was on the other side. Once he saw her, it would all be real.

He needed more time. Time to get ready, time to be better, time to be the King she believed he was. All he could picture was her face – somewhere between the child he’d known and the woman he’d seen in official broadcasts – crumpling in disappointment, and the fact that it hadn’t happened (yet) did nothing to lessen the pain. Gods. Gods. He couldn’t do this. More time—

Prompto’s face appeared, looking worried and frantic, and then Noct was being hauled into the unlocked room despite his sluggish limbs. He heard the door shut behind them, closing them in safely. And when he opened his eyes, he was in Luna’s hospital room.

“Dude,” Prompto was whispering. “Breathe.”

Noct nodded.

“Breathe. Breathe.” Prompto pressed a quick, awkward kiss to his forehead. “Breathe. Just breathe.”

Noct breathed, or tried to breathe. When he opened his eyes, he could see Luna in her hospital bed, traced in appallingly bright sunshine, and he swayed again. Prompto caught him, held him up, held him in place. Just held him, really.

For a minute, he had the inane thought that Clarus and Gladio were on the other side of the door, and if they came in they would see Noct snuggling with Prompto and the game would be up. And then he remembered that Clarus was dead, that Gladio wanted nothing to do with him, and that this wasn’t his father’s hospital room, after the stroke that nearly claimed his life a year ago. Something about the smell, the beeping, the seafoam green of the curtains and blankets, must have taken him back. And his dad was dead, anyway, dead like Clarus, dead like Ignis almost was, dead like Luna almost is….

“I can’t do this,” Noct whispered, when Prompto backed off to give him a little space.

Ignis would have said, yes you can, Highness. Majesty. Gladio would have said, don’t give me that crap, you’re gonna do your duty if it kills us both. Luna would have said, none of us know what we can do until we do it, or fail trying. But I do believe in you, Noctis.

Prompto just whispered, “I know, man.” Noctis met his eyes, briefly, and the love and sorrow there stole his breath. “That’s why I’m here to help.”

Noctis glanced back, thinking of escape, about making excuses and stepping out, running away, back to the Secretary’s house and the room where Ignis and Gladio tip-toed around each other and the smothering silence. And then he swallowed, and squeezed Prompto’s hand, and nodded, meeting his eyes one more time.

“Let’s go,” he whispered, and Prompto led him forward, into the light.

[ilovefandoms102]

Part 3-Where Loyalties Lie

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Potter!Reader

Summary: A forbidden romance is betrayed when the very dark wizard who is out to kill you is your lovers master...

Taglist:

@jeyramarie​​​ @drewswannabegirl​​ @teamnick​​ @jiaraendgame​​ @agirlwholovescoffee​​​ @outerbongs​​ @jaxxandcomet​​ @velyssaraptor​​ @baby-pogue​​ @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon​​ @must-be-a-weasley-92​​ @kaitieskidmore1​​ @ma10427​​ @ifilwtmfc​​ @lasnaro​​ @justcallmesams​​ @judayyyw​​ @lonely-kermit​​ @gviosca​​ @iamaunicorn4704​​ @jellyfishbeansontoast​​ @fernweh-fangirl​​ @runway-to-my-aid​​ @eb15​​ @hurricane-abigail​​ @tangledinsparkles​​ @amanda-rotigliano​​ @hxfflxpxffs​​ @bannerbubble​​ @hybridfamily​​ @coldlilheart​​  @fandom-phaser​​ @sunwardsss​​ @http-cherries​​ @bibliophilewednesday​​ @evaporatedrosepetals​​ @thetomatosaucee​​ @tomatosauceagent​​ @redosmo​​ @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch​​ @susceptible-but-siriusexual​​ @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless​​ @obx-direction-sos​​ @they-reblog-once-in-a-blue-moon​​ @iraniq​​ @nekee-lilac02​​ @gracielou0518​​​ @aplaintart​​​ @wollymalfoy​ @thefandomplace​ @poguestyleskye​ @butterflydior​​ 

Part 2

Note: I’m so happy for the love and support you all have given me! Thank you for 500 new friends, I am grateful for each and every one of you! I can’t wait to put out more stuff for you guys! 

Would anyone like for me to continue the series for how Draco and y/n raise Scorpius and go through the trials of parenthood? Maybe even include their wedding and wedding night😛...let me know in the comments or message me!

================================

Draco pushed me into the main room, his family eyeing me now. I spotted Hermione on the ground, I went to move towards her. I was stopped by an unspeakable pain, a screech left my throat as I fell just feet from her.

“Crucio!” Bellatrix shouted, waving her wand at me again.

I convulsed on the floor, screaming as the pain shot from my head to my feet. I rolled to my side, heavily breathing. I scooted to Hermione, her hand barely mustering the energy to hold mine. 

“Since this filthy Mudblood won’t talk, perhaps you will Potter. Where did you get the sword?” she seethed.

“Even if I did know, I wouldn’t tell you!” I panted.

“Draco! Your wand at the ready, torture this disgusting Halfblood until she admits her faults.” Bellatrix commanded.

“She said she doesn’t know, maybe they’re telling the truth for once.” Draco answered, trying to hide his fear.

“Either you do it, or your father kills them.” Bellatrix hissed, Draco’s face going pale. 

They cleared to the other side of the room, leaving just Draco and I with Hermione limp on the floor. Tears started to leak from his eyes, my heart shattered. His hand shook that held his wand, bending his head to let out a sob.

“It’s ok, do what they say.” I spoke, Draco shaking his head.

“I can’t, I can’t do it.” he sobbed, fervently shaking his head.

“Draco please! It’s the only way we’re getting out of here!” I pleaded.

“What is the meaning of this Draco!? Do it!” Lucius boomed, Draco still sobbing.

“I can’t hurt the girl I love!” Draco shouted, his family gasping. 

“You cannot be serious!” Lucius shouted, Hermione’s grip on my hand tightened.

“Fine, if you cannot man up to the task...CRUCIO!” Bellatrix shouted, repeating the spell over and over.

Draco tried to come to my aid, but his father fought to hold him back. He cried as he watched me suffer one of the three Unforgivable Curses, shouting my name as I screamed in pain. I couldn’t even put into words what the pain felt like, an excruciating void of unending beats was the best way to put it. 

I tried to reach out for Draco as blood started to fall from my ears and mouth, him trying to do the same with the restriction of his father.

“Please Bella! Stop, please!” Draco yelled, falling to his knees as Lucius scrapped to get a hold of him. 

“That’s enough Bella,” Narcissa spoke, pulling on her sister’s arm.

“Consider yourself lucky you belong to the Dark Lord Potter. For your friend, I can’t say the same.” Bellatrix sighed.

There was a sudden commotion as Harry and Ron burst into the room, firing off spells. Draco pretended to drop one of ours, rolling it my way. I fired one at Lucius, knocking him several feet away. It was a struggle trying to get up, only to be snatched by Narcissa, my muscles too weak to fight back. Bellatrix held a knife to Hermione’s throat, Harry and Ron dropping their wands at her command. 

I looked at Draco, his eyes wide with worry. There was a squeaking sound from above us, looking to see Dobby unhinging the chandelier. It came crashing down, giving enough distraction for Hermione and I to break free. I launched myself at Harry, he held me close as we all huddled to apparate out. I took one last look at Draco, he mouthed those three little words. I mouthed them back, tears shining as we apparated away.

===============================

Harry was headed to the Ravenclaw common room to find the Grey Lady, while I tried to make the Room of Requirement pop up. Just when I was about to give up, I heard creaking behind me, turning to find the Room of Requirement. Harry appeared next to me, dragging me with him. 

We looked around the disastrous area for what felt like hours, clapping my hands over my ears when I heard the telling sound of the Horcrux’s. I whipped around to find Harry holding the tiara that belonged to the Helena. Just as I reached him, a voice I knew all too well sounded in the room.

“Well, well, well, look what we have here. What brings you two here?” Draco taunted, Crab and Goyle holding their wands at us as Draco did. 

“I could ask you the same,” Harry answered, tugging on my wrist so that I was behind him.

“You have something of mine,” Draco spat, eyeing me before looking back to my brother.

“Why didn’t you tell her? Bellatrix? You knew it was me, and you didn’t say anything.” Harry asked, tilting his head.

“I would never hurt her,” Draco whispered, the other two Slytherin’s giving him a confused look.

“If you truly loved her-” Harry hissed, now my turn to grab his arm to pull him back.

“Harry!” I exclaimed as they all held their wands higher, at the ready to fire at us.

“Don’t be a prat Draco, do it!” Goyle seethed, Draco gulped before moving his eyes to meet mine.

In a split second, I whipped my wand out. Firing at Draco, disarming him. He turned and ran as his friends continued their assault, Hermione coming to aid. I shouted for Draco, watching as Ron ran after the Slytherin’s. 

After some digging, Harry and Hermione plopped back to the ground. Ron came out of nowhere, snatching Hermione’s hand as he claimed that Goyle set the place on fire. Indeed he did as a giant fire in the shape of a snake came bounding after us. 

I grabbed Harry’s hand as we weaved through the stacks of rubbish, not finding a way out. I whipped my head in search of Draco, wondering if he made it out alive. My chest burned from the fire, and the thought of the love of my life being dead in the very same room. 

We bumped into some brooms, taking off to find the exit. I looked all over for Draco, not spotting him. Harry then caught my attention, whisking around to go back from where we just were. I sobbed in relief when I saw Draco, his eyes lighting up when he caught sight of me. I grabbed his arm, tugging him so he could jump on the back of the broom. He held tightly to my waist, his lips moving to kiss my cheek. 

The blast from the fire knocked us off the broom once we reached outside of the Room of Requirement, Draco kissed me before taking off. Harry stabbed the tiara with the Basilisk fang, knocking both of us back. 

==================================

My heart crumbled after Harry and I took Snape’s tears to watch his memories. Not only did both of us have to die to completely destroy Voldemort, but that we might not come back. I thought of Draco, that we would never get married, have children, and grow old together. Neither would Harry, but this had to be done. 

We found Hermione and Ron at the bottom of the stairs just in front of the castle. huddled together. They stood once they saw us, knowing what Harry and I were about to do. Hermione crushed Harry into a hug, Ron leaning down to hug me tight. 

“We all had a feeling this is how it would have to end, no one just wanted to accept it.” I spoke, pulling back to smile sadly at Ron.

“After us, it’s just the snake. Kill it, and you’ll kill him.” Harry said.

Hermione tugged me to her, crying into my shoulder. I rubbed her back, sniffling to hold in my tears. Once I pulled back, I took Harry’s hand as we made our way to the Forbidden Forest. Harry found the Resurrection Stone in the snitch, holding my hand tightly. We looked around to see our parents, Remus, and Sirius. Our mother held her hand out, I instantly went to her. My hand went through her’s, my heart clenching when I couldn’t feel her.

“You’ve been so brave my babies.” she spoke, her voice melodic as it rang in my ears. How I wished I could have heard her voice my whole life.

“You’re nearly there,” our father said, his features resembling Harry so much they almost looked like the same person. 

“Does it hurt? To die?” Harry asked Sirius, my eyes leaving my mother’s to look at my Godfather.

“Quicker than falling asleep.” Sirius quipped, a small smile gracing his lips.

“I wish more than ever that none of you had to die, not like this.” I croaked, Harry nodding in agreement.

“I never wanted any of you to die for me,” Harry spoke, looking around at our lost loved ones. 

“Remus, Teddy he-” I started.

“Others will tell him what his parents died for, and one day, he’ll understand.” Remus smiled, his eyes looking between Harry and I. 

“You’ll be with us?” I asked.

“Until the very end.” our father answered.

“Stay close to us.” Harry said, grabbing my hand again.

“Always,” our mother replied, my eyes tearing up as they disappeared. 

===========================

Voldemort had been defeated, finally freeing Harry and I from our life long torture. No more looking over our shoulders constantly, no more people that we loved would have to die for us. I could be with Draco...if I ever saw him again. He fled with his parents after Harry and I revealed to everyone that we were in fact still alive. 

“We did it,” I gasped, laughing as Harry and I embraced one another.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and I were walking across the bridge that separated the castle from the outside world, mindlessly kicking the cement that littered from the battle. 

“So what will you do with the most powerful wand in the world Harry?” I asked my brother, turning to face him.

I watched in horror as he broke the wand, throwing the pieces over the edge. He did the right thing though...

“Y/n...” Hermione mumbled, pointing at something behind us.

I turned around hesitantly, my heart soaring at the sight in front of me. Draco stood at the other end of the bridge, once he saw me turn he began walking. I took off in a sprint, tears rolling down my cheeks. He jogged the rest of the way, meeting me in the middle as I crashed into his arms. He spun me around, both of us laughing joyously. I pulled back to look into his eyes, a second later his lips were on mine. 

Draco held tight with his arms around my lower back, my feet still off the ground. I licked my way into his mouth, challenging his tongue into a dance of passion. I moved one hand to fist it in his hair, tugging it slightly to hear him moan into my mouth. He sat me down gently, pulling away to lean his forehead to mine.

“You came back,” I sniffled, intertwining our hands.

“I’ll always come back for you my love,” he whispered.

“I love you Draco,” I smiled.

“I love you more y/n,” he sighed, pulling me into his embrace once more.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

The Thief and the Tinker, Part 3: I See Fire

part 2

Part 3

Viren: Well how do you suggest we get him out?

Claudia: *grins, brandishes marshmallow on toasting fork* Unharmed is just another kind of harmed

Viren: Claudia no

Claudia: Claudia YES

I See Fire

Angst rating: 9/10

Viren is clever enough not to take the Silvergrove on alone, no matter how badly he wants Ethari to make him a magic key. Aaravos could be cooking in that pod for a while longer, but Viren still has a trustworthy and badass ally at his side.

Oh yeah, it's Claudia Time again!

Claudia is a powerful and imaginative dark mage, and she has the tainted Sun staff. So, you're the magefam, and you've made it to Xadia, to the edges of the Moonshadow Forest. And all you need to do to get the power of your dreams is to threaten one soft craftsman. But how do you find one specific Moonshadow elf in a hidden Moonshadow village somewhere in the middle of a giant spooky magical forest?

You burn him out.

Credit once again to@random-fandom-ramble for reminding me of this forest fire headcanon, because it fits so well. and so I don't get all the blame for this one, lol

Because see, that's not ordinary fire. Oh, no. That's dark magic fire. We've seen that before. It leaves permanent scars. Remember Sol Regem's eyes?

That's going to be the landscape when Claudia's fire gets through with the Moonshadow elves' home. Where I live on the US West Coast, they name forest fires, and if they combine, they get called complexes. So maybe we can name this fire the Dark Tragedy Complex? Because I do have to wonder... you could start a dark magic forest fire easily with a tainted Sun staff, but how do you put it out?

Two things are going to happen if these events should unfold. One is angsty. The other is also angsty but then amazing.

Firstly, Viren is going to get what he wants. He'll find Ethari, whose tree burned down :(. He'll show him the coins, and he'll offer a trade. Build what he wants and make it work, and Ethari can have his family back, uncoined and free.

And Ethari will say yes.

He'll say yes no matter what anyone else tries to persuade him to do, and I hope they do try, because see: Ethari has to make it look good. He has to make it look like he's all in on Viren's plan, to Viren. Even if that means turning his back on his people in their time of greatest need.

Secondly, the Moonshadow elves are going to be collectively homeless and bereft, hungry, injured, terrified, angry. They will have nowhere to go. They will be a people without a home. And no one else in Xadia will help them. Maybe they're too terrified to hide Ethari's people in case doing so brings Viren down on them, too. We've seen how ordinary elves flee in terror from dark magic. Maybe they're all fighting other issues, too. Viren knows all about stretching resources too far during times of crisis. Whatever the case, there will be no welcome anywhere in Xadia for the Moonshadow elves of the Moonshadow Forest.

But here's where it gets amazing. Because one hand will reach out. One small hand, from across the border. Good King Ezran will stand up on the seat of his throne and say, "You can stay here. I have forests. You're tired, you're hungry. You need medicine. Let me help."

And I'm gonna cry like a little baby.

How many cycles does this break, how many circles does it complete? Moonshadow elves used to live in Katolis before the border was created. When humans were under threat of total annihilation, the Moonshadow leader's daughter spoke up and asked for mercy. That mercy came in the form of land reassignment, and the Moonshadow elves had to give up their ancestral home, their Nexus, and travel east across the new Border. But that mercy got paired with justice, and the life-loving Moon Druids probably had to swear some kind of blood promise to keep an eye on the humans forevermore, and to kill any individuals who got out of hand, as if their sins were the Moonshadows' responsibility now.

That's got to breed a little resentment, a little superiority. "Look what we sacrificed for you, and this is how you act. Ungrateful." And maybe that was partially Luna Tenebris's goal: to hold to her vision of justice, she had to make the elves who shared her arcanum feel a little resentment. Moonshadows love life, but we can't have them being too soft to keep Xadia safe from dark mages, now, can we? I will never stop cackling over dragon politics okay, never

But the Moonshadow elves never figured on King Ezran. A soft boy who refused to let his father's assassination harden his heart, because every life is genuinely important to him. I've seen headcanons for Ezran getting the Sun, Earth, Ocean, and Stars arcanum. How about Moon, too? Because this is very Ethari of him, and if these stories of Viren's plan and the Moonshadow elves' displacement were actually to happen in tandem, the contrast between Ezran's soft choice and Ethari's hard one would be mindblowing.

Ezran completes the circle by inviting the Moonshadow elves to return to Katolis, to their ancestral home. They left long ago, paying the price for an act of mercy, but they were welcomed back by the mercy of humans, repaid after a thousand years, repaid in the face of tragedy. Tragedy on all sides. Tragedy Ezran wants to stop from happening, by being brave and caring and soft, and by being the first to break this thousand-year cycle between Katolis and the Moonshadow elves.

Rayla is his friend. And these are her people. It won't matter what they've done, only that they need help in a time of great desperation. And of course he'll help them. He's Ezran, and he's Katolis's greatest treasure.

Oh, what's that you say? Inviting the Moonshadow elves to settle in Katolis again would make it easier for Rayla to live with Callum in the future? Oh gosh, how about that? What a deal. *smug matchmaker noises*

And once the Moonshadow elves understand that they're safe and begin to trust Ezran--which could happen very quickly, because saving a Moonshadow elf's life when you didn't need to is a really fast way to prove you're trustworthy--maybe Ezran will be encouraged to take the next step toward peace, and eventually other elves and dragons will come to meet together to talk it over. And Ez will offer them jelly tarts, which they will love.

Back to Ethari, because we're not done with him yet. Ethari is soft, but he isn't weak. He won't be a willing pawn for Viren. He loves Runaan to the point of invention, and his devotion is more constant than the moon itself. He'll agree to do what Viren says, and he'll be Very Sad. But his spirit is in no way broken. Viren bribing him with the coins containing his family will only have the opposite effect. It'll give Ethari something to fight for.

We could get Focused Chaos Ethari. We could get Angery Trickster Ethari. We could get Rules, What Rules? Ethari. Let him try to steal the coins, try to break them, try to kill Viren, and be stymied at every turn, until he settles and seems cowed. And then all he does is craft his way out of the problem. What if we are gifted with Iron Man Ethari, who pretends to build a fake Key for Viren, but meanwhile he's really building a coinbuster with whatever he can get his hands on - primal stones, magically imbued gemstones, stolen artifacts, his own arcanum, his own reputation as the Master Craftsman of the Silvergrove. He'll use almost- almost - anything, to stop Viren and free his family.

Ethari may have to choose between those two things, though. And he's a hero, deep down, just like his family, just like his daughter. If he has to choose, he'll choose to stop Viren and save Xadia. He'll pay the same price as his family has if he must.

He'd let Viren think he was motivated purely by wanting his family back, but Ethari is far too steeped in the illusion and sacrifice for that to be all there is to his motives. It's a so-close-and-yet-so-far thing, how he and Viren almost embody the same ideals. Almost. Ethari would take one look at Viren, who just burnt down his whole Forest, he'd see the biggest threat in Xadia, and he'd say anything to get a chance to stop this juggernaut of destruction from getting his hands on whatever that ultimate power really is, locked behind that missing key. If he has to abandon his people and bawl his eyes out to convince Viren he's in, then he will.

And Viren wouldn't make it easy for him. He knows clever when he sees it. He went through all this trouble to persuade Ethari to work with him. He would need to keep Ethari as off-balance as possible to ensure that he keeps working as he should.

Angsty jewelry, anyone: Viren giving Ethari his husband in pendant form to remind him what he's working for, when Viren and Ethari both know full well that only dark magic can open the hellcoins. Ethari wearing another pendant of his love, except it's not a metaphor this time. It's literally his love, in a coin around his neck.

Viren would know that Ethari would have to stay close to Viren of his own free will if he ever hoped to free Runaan. And making people bind themselves to you is a big power flex. Remember that TDP stream future-season teaser note about Bait being in a creepy restraint in a future season?

This card is written on in all-caps, so that really could be "Bait" or "bait," or--knowing this show--both. Viren's been using Runaan as bait for Ethari all along. Putting his coin in a dark magic pendant casing for Ethari to wear would be a great parallel for that. Oh god. Oh man.

Maybe he'll stab the coin's scary casing right through that circle on Ethari's chest, right over his heart, make that Iron Man reference really obvious. Ethari also losing his shirt at some point, for angsty Viren-related reasons? It's more likely than you think. I mean... Ethari is literally involved in both forms of forging at this point. Shirt's gotta come off for uhhhh work reasons. And because he's hot. Because of all the forging. I mean how else are we finally going to discover what his markings look like

I mentioned that I liked god-tier villains, right? Yeah, this is amazing. I haven't wanted to die and ascend over an idea for quite a while, but Ethari vs Viren in a drawn-out battle of wills would kill me in the best way. Especially since, while it looks like they're essentially fighting for who gets Runaan, they're truly fighting a much larger battle with much higher stakes. They're fighting for the future itself. It's an epic struggle between the Narrative of Strength and the Narrative of Love. And we've seen what happens, over and over, when the Narrative of Strength gets to call the shots.

On a meta note: If Runaan and Ethari's story arc isn't a love letter from one trauma survivor to another, and on a broader scope to all survivors who see it, I don't know what is. Sometimes life just chews us up and spits us out and we can't stop it and it breaks us. But sometimes we can reach out and grasp the chance to help each other, even after that, even when it hurts a lot, because we know what it means to be loved, and to love, and to want a safer future for each other and for people we'll never meet. The future is worth standing together for, helping each other back up for, fighting side by side for, even if you can't see how it'll end, or even how to begin. We are stronger together, and sometimes we need to fight for our "together" before we can fight for anything else. And that's worth it, every time.

This is glorious, it's beautiful, it's tragic, it's amazing, it makes me want to dance, it makes me want to scream into the void, it makes me want to slap someone with a semi truck. No, someone specific, don't worry, and he super deserves it.

Because Ethari is going to win. He was always going to win. He's soft, and he's clever, and he hasn't forgotten what love means. It's what he's fighting for. Not power, not control. Love. He doesn't want to dictate Runaan's future, or anyone else's. He just wants his husband--and everyone else--to have one at all.

So he's going to win.

What beating Viren looks like, I can't guess yet. TDP is no stranger to angst, so there will probably be a high cost involved in thwarting the dark mage. Maybe not everyone can be rescued from the coins. Maybe Ethari will lose his life, or his soul, or his vision, or something else really angsty. Viren could even kill him and resurrect him as a smoky craftsman, or a zombie craftsman, or something equally biddable but horrible. The only thing I'm sure of is that Ethari would never willingly make a working Key of Aaravos Ethari as long as there's a chance Viren could possess it. But I do believe that if he gets the right opportunity while he's busy saving the world from Viren's dark intentions, he'll break his husband's hellcoin open somehow and set him free, even if he has to smile at the devil to do it.

part 4

[khaleesiofalicante]

CIRCLE WEEK - CELINE MONTCLAIRE

“Jonathan,” she called. “Jonathan Christopher!”

The little boy came running, even the gentle tip toeing of his feet sounding musical to her ears.

He was grinning at her, a wicked gleam evident in his golden eyes.

“Jace,” she chastised. “Did you climb up the fridge and eat from the Nutella jar again?”

“No,” Jace shook his head solemly.

Either he wasn’t aware that his mouth was covered in chocolate or he knew the truth. Celine could never be mad at him.

“Come here,” she smiled and sat down on the grass. Jace ran towards Celine and hopped down next to her.

“I got you a present,” she told him.

“But it’s not my birthday,” he frowned. “Oh. Is today the mundane holiday where the giant red demon brings them gifts?”

“He is not a demon, Mon Cheri!” she laughed. “And no, it’s not Christmas. This is a special occasion.”

Jace’s eyes shifted to the large box to her, which rattled violently. Jace made a whimpering sound but quickly recovered.

“You know you start your shadowhunter training at the academy soon,” Celine pointed out. “I thought we could start a little early. I got you a little friend to train with.”

Jace’s eyes narrowed further. He didn’t really like many other boys. Alec Lightwood was the only exception of course.

“Ta-da!” she revealed his gift.

“It’s a bird,” Jace observed flatly.

“It’s a hunting falcon,” Celine pointed out. “Do you know something people call them shadowhunters of the sky? They are incredibly smart and very brave. Just like you.”

Jace smiled a little at that. “What do I do with him?”

“Her,” she corrected.

“What do I do with her?”

“You train her,” she said simply. “Hunting falcons are not easy to tame. But once they are, they become the most loyal creatures you can find. It’s always good to have a friend you can count on when you are in a fight.”

Jace considered this for a moment, his blonde eyebrows knitting in deep thought.

“Alright,” Jace stood up suddenly and held out his hand. “It’s a deal.”

It wasn’t really a deal but Celine couldn’t help but laugh and shake his hand.

“I’m going to call her Artemis,” Jace grinned.

For the goddess of the hunt, Celine realized. Sometimes she forgot how smart her son was.

And then the training began.

To nobody’s surprise, Jace excelled in every single aspect of his training – whether it was sword fighting or rune skills or tracking or hand-to-hand combat.

She was incredibly proud of him.

But Jace did not share her pride.

“Artemis bit me again,” Jace pointed out. “I wanted to tame her like you tasked. I wanted to make you happy. But Artemis doesn’t like me.”

“Artemis is afraid,” Celine pointed out. “You’re bigger than her. You’re stronger than her.”

“But I just want her to be my friend,” Jace pouted.

“Then you need to make that clear,” Celine said. “You’re teaching her how to obey you. It will only make her more afraid. You need to teach her how to trust you.”

“Trust me?” Jace asked.

“Trust is very important in a relationship, Jace,” she told him. “You should be able to trust your friends.”

Jace was deep in his thoughts again. “But how do I make her trust me?” Jace asked.

“You’ll figure it out, my tiny hunter,” she ruffled his hair. “For now, let’s go have lunch.”

The quest to tame Artemis began again.

This time, it was clear that Jace had listened. He took Artemis everywhere he went. He kept her in his room. He introduced her to everyone who came home. He read her the Codex – which Artemis wasn’t very happy about. He even played the piano for her – which the falcon seemed to enjoy.

Celine watched the two of them every day. At first, it had merely been a training. It had been Valentine’s idea – the instructor in the shadowhunter academy. He had told all children must be able to tame a hunting falcon.

She had thought it would be a good idea for Jace to learn this too.

Everyone had told her that Jace would grow up to one of the best fighters in history. They had told her that he would live up to the Herondale legacy.

“He has sharpest mind,” someone had said.

“He has the quickest reflexes,” someone had said.

“He has the best fighting skills,” someone had said.

But none of them saw what she saw.

They didn’t see him singing French lullabies to Artemis before going to bed every night.

He has the kindest heart, Celine thought.

Even though no one really praised it, Celine knew that was a good thing to have too.

One day when she was on her way to the shadow market, he noticed that Artemis’ cage was open.

“Jace!” she ran to the music room. “Jace! The cage is open. Artemis must have flown aw-”

Jace was playing the piano, a French classic Stephen had taught him ages ago. There, on his shoulders, was Artemis – looking regal and solemn.

Jace noticed her presence and smiled at her.

In that moment, Celine knew that he was going to do great things one day.

Not because he had tamed a wild creature. But because he had chosen love over power. Celine knew by experience that only one of those things mattered in life and Jace already knew to make the correct choice.

When the shadowhunter academy started later that year, all the children were expected to bring their falcons with them. Valentine had individually inspected every single one.

None of the children had been able to tame their birds. Some parents had even refused to buy such a creature for their children.

When Valentine inspected Jace and Artemis, Celine had thought he would be proud of what her son had achieved.

But instead, a look of disgust clouded his face.

“What is this?” he demanded. “I asked you to tame the bird. You’ve made it your friend! It has manipulated you, you weak boy! This is not a hunter. This is a pet. You’ve broken the damn creature!”

Jace who looked horrified, looked at her and then the children around him and ran away to the hills. Artemis, who had been sitting on his shoulder, started to fly after him.

“Honestly, Celine!” Valentine looked at her now. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. After all, the boy is being raised by a soft-hearted woman such as yourself. Of course, he would be a weak little thing focusing on caring for his play thing instead of training it-”

“Oh, shut up, Valentine!” Celine said, and not quietly either.

There were some audible gasps in the background.

“Caring for someone takes a lot of courage and strength. We cannot fight if we didn’t care. We care about the world. We care about the future. It’s what we do. Caring is never a weakness. It makes us better people. If you’re going to be training children here, you must as well get that in your arrogant head right now.”

She wasn’t going to stop here of course. She was going to have words with the dean of the academy. There was no way she would allow for this horrible man to shape the minds of the next generation.

She decided to go after Jace. But turned around one last time.

“Don’t EVER talk to my son that way,” she said, holding nothing back. “I might be a soft-hearted woman as you say. But I still know my way around a seraph blade.”

With that, she walked towards the hills, only to find Jace throwing pebbles into the river, with Artemis observing him from a distance.

“Sweetheart,” she called.

“I’m sorry,” Jace said. “I’m sorry I failed.”

“You didn’t fail,” she told him. “You did really good.”

“But Mr. Morgenstern said that I-”

“Not everything Mr. Morgenstern says is true,” she told him. “Sometimes people say things because they believe it to be true. But that doesn’t mean it is the actual truth. You need to decide the truth for yourself.”

Jace bit his lip. Maybe it was all too much for him. Maybe the academy would be too much for him.

“Mama,” he said quietly. “Did I…Did I break Artemis?”

Celine’s heart certainly did break upon hearing that.

She knelt down next to him so their golden heads were both on the same level.

“Listen to me, Jace,” she told him. “Artemis grew up in the wild. She probably didn’t have any friends growing up. She must have been very scared. She must have been very lonely. I know what that feels like. What you did…It was the best thing you could have done for her. You showed her kindness. You gave her love. Those are more important than learning how to fight.”

“But does that make me weak?” Jace asked in a quiet voice. “Valentine said I am weak.”

Celine wanted to tell him that Valentine was an idiot. That he was a man driven by anger and arrogance. But bashing Valentine was not going to help Jace understand – for she knew that there were many Valentines out there who would call her son weak for showing mercy and choosing love.

“Okay, tell me this,” she demanded. “Did you believe me when I told you that showing kindness to Artemis was a good thing? That loving her really helped her?”

Jace nodded, his little face determined.

“Then believe me when I say that as much as it is important to be kind to Artemis, it’s also important to be kind to yourself,” Celine told him softly. “When you chose love over destruction or kindness over hatred, people will always call you names. But that says more about them than it says about you, okay?”

Jace considered that for a moment. She liked that about him. How he always processed what other people said quietly to himself.

He finally nodded.

“Does that mean we can take Artemis home?” Jace asked now. “She wants to eat chocolate.”

“Birds don’t eat chocolate, Jace,” Celine poked out her tongue, already making a mental note to replace the now almost empty Nutella jar.

“This bird does,” Jace winked. “She loves chocolate.”

Celine laughed. “You love Artemis, don’t you?”

“I do,” Jace smiled, his face brighter than sunlight. “But don’t worry. I love you more.”

Celine smiled back and held out her hand for him. Jace took it as Artemis perched herself on his tiny shoulder.

“Good,” Celine said. “To love is the greatest strength, little one. And to be loved is the greatest blessing.”