#(because its what she deserves she deserves dignity and happiness)

[malewifehenrycooldown]

Sometimes I think about that moment in NMH2 when Travis’s talks about how ‘despite assassins being super fucked up, are still human beings that deserve respect’ and I just… kinda get emotional over that because even though he is a pathetic loser, he’s not wrong!! He’s absolutely correct!!

Assassins are more than just tools! They are more than just bloodthirsty killers! They had lives! Dreams! Personalities! Interests!! Family!! They had things that they cared about but had no choice but to abandon them, because the life of an assassin is cruel one with constant competition. The genuine horror of it is realising that at any moment, a ranking fight would be set and on that day of the fight you’d have to accept the fact that you might not walk out the door, it’s sad!! It’s horrifying! And with each little bit of info on the assassins you get you can’t help but feel bad for them. Sure they knew what they were signing up for but that doesn’t mean they can’t have a dignified/honourable death !!

[didsomeonesayventus]

on one hand I should probably branch out and not pair azura up with jakob for my nth playthru of fates rev on the other I simply cannot resist slightly messy but ride or die shigure + dwyer sibling bond

[moonlightazriel]

Chapter 20: Home /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Azriel and Y/N finally reunite.

Word Count: 3,9K

Warnings: None for this part.

Notes: This chapter was a little bit hard to write cuz it's always difficult to say goodbye to a fic, I can't believe this is the last one. Thank you for all of your support in this, love you all.

Main Masterlist

Worlds Apart Masterlist

The sweet aroma of coffee filled her senses, luring her forward until she pushed the wooden door open. A simple kitchen welcomed her, with white cupboards and a marble countertop, near the stove, a female with blonde hair stood there, humming lowly some old lullaby, she poured the boiling water over the coffee powder and two mugs waited to be used by the side. 

“Sit down, it’s almost done.” She said and Y/N did as told, the old chair scraping against the floor, as she pulled it near the crackling fire, the heart of the old cabin, warming the entire space, making her feel cosy as she waited. 

She reached for the fire, heating her numb hands, the snow fell outside, the snowflakes softly getting rustled in the air. She sighed with relief, rubbing her palms together, she needed it, that light, that heat.

“You always loved the fire, drawn to it like a little moth, seeking its warmth.” Asterin said, placing the mug in front of her, she took it, nodding her head in appreciation, hearing as the older witch pulled her chair near her as she sipped on the perfect coffee, feeling her chest boil with heat. 

“The fire reminds me of you, you’ve always been the torch in the middle of the darkness.” Asterin chuckled and she basked in that sound, letting it fill the void in her heart, turning to the side, her sister looked like she always did, with a soft glow around her. Suddenly her face turned into a frown and she lifted her hand, wiping the tears that fell down her cheeks.

“Why do you cry?” She inquired and Y/N lowered her head, not daring to look into those eyes. 

“Because I never got to say goodbye.” She mumbled and Asterin lifted her chin with a long finger.

“But I never left, did I? I was with you, right here.” She pointed to her own heart. “I'm alive in your memories, in your love for me, in the people we helped, in everything we left behind.”

“But this won't ever be enough, nothing is enough to ease the pain your absence brings me every waking moment.” Her voice was low, filled with hurt as she poured her heart out to her sister, she was never able to do that before. “Nothing is worth living for if you're not here.” 

“You found the only exception, the one that made all that pain, all the sacrifice you ever made worth it, the one worth enduring everything for his love.” She pointed out and Y/N sobbed harder.

“And what for? To never see him again, no matter how much I keep fighting, I always lose in the end.” 

“You didn't have to come back…” Y/N snorted. 

“I had to, because that's what is expected of me, I have a role to fulfil. I have to be like you.” She sounded so tired.

“It pains me to hear this, that they did the same thing to you. I left the love of my life, the life I wanted behind because I was too blind to see past other people's expectations, a warrior, a weapon, destruction, death, war. It makes me sad that you made the same mistake, no one wants you to be me, you don't have to, you're your own person and if anything, you shouldn't be like me, you shouldn't give up on the love you deserve so much, the happiness you would have by his side.”

“It's too late for me now.” She quietly lowered her head again. 

“It is not, you still have time, don't let your inner demons control you, what happened was meant to happen, you couldn't have stopped any of us, we made that choice and it isn't your fault.”

“I FAILED YOU, I SHOULD'VE PROTECTED YOU THE SAME WAY YOU PROTECTED ME.” she shouted, her voice echoing on the walls of the cabin. 

“You never failed me, not when you chose me as your family, not when you brought my daughter here, giving her the dignity and love I couldn't, not when you followed me to war, choosing a better world, not when you ended up almost dead fighting for what was right, I couldn't be more proud of you than I am.”

Her words hurt, old wounds open up ,bleeding profusely, causing so much pain that she didn't know if she could take it, why did it have to be like this? She sipped on the forgotten coffee, trying to focus on something else to calm herself down. 

“I had to die to finally live the love I always craved, I had to be buried in the ground to finally be free to be with my family. Please, don't convince yourself that you have to do this as well. You found something truly unique, don't let that go to waste, don't miss your chance. Not again.” Asterin begged.

“And what if I already lost it?” Asterin grabbed her hand, pulling It to her chest, and she could feel the beating heart against her palm, she didn't know how this was possible. 

“The gods work in mysterious ways and love always finds a way, it's not over yet.” She raised an eyebrow curiously. 

“What do you mean?” She inquired.

“Trust your heart, allow it to guide you back to what is yours, back to him.” Asterin advised and she nodded her head. “We don't have much time left, please never forget that I love you.” 

“Fuck, I miss you so much.” She leaned against Asterin's shoulder. 

“One day we'll be together again,but that day is not now Please, tell Manon that we're proud of her, just as much as we're proud of you.” Asterin said, getting up, Y/N followed her, the older witch wrapped her arms around her and she sniffled the sweet scent of Asterin, the comfort she desperately sought, finally making itself known.

“I love you.” She whispered. 

“Me too, with all my heart.” Asterin replied, departing the hug and walking outside, where a male with a baby in his arms waited for her and eleven fierce warriors waved at Y/N. Her heart squeezed at the sight, waving back and yelling at them that she missed her friends.

She gasped when she woke, wiping the waterfall of tears that fell down her cheeks, she rested her hand on her chest, feeling her beating heart. She was alive, and she was going to live like she wanted, if her chance was really coming back to her, she would grab it with her claws and teeth and never let him go again. 

Later that morning, she met a worried Fenrys, who definitely noticed how her face seemed lighter, like the darkness that clouded her life was finally dissipating, he had blinked three times to which she blinked one time, enough to appease him. He had come to her, hugging her and asking if she was ready to go to Orynth, for the ball in two days. 

She had nodded, getting her backpack and helping him up Meraxes’ back, riding her dear wyvern with the rest of Queen Manon's caravan towards Terrasen, where the pull on her chest urged her to. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“How long are you guys locking us in?” Nesta bumped her metal plate against the iron bars, their weapons being taken away from them when the tall warrior had “gently” escorted them to the cell they were currently locked in. 

“I’m sorry for keeping you guys locked, we're waiting for our queen to decide how to deal with this situation.” The kind female spoke as she emerged from the shadows, her hair braided away from her face, her brown eyes scanned their figures up and down, each one of them kept in different cells, so they wouldn’t try to do anything. 

“Is she coming?” Elain asked and the female, Elide, turned to her, smiling gracefully.

“She’ll join us this afternoon, I’m here to offer you all a bath and a fresh pair of clothes if you want it.” She offered and Elain was the first to raise her hand. 

“Please, I feel disgusting.” Elide nodded and went to her cell, freeing her and taking Elain with her. By the door, the tall male watched them with a sneer, escorting the small female back to where they came from. 

It took two days since they arrived, in a place called Perranth, for them to be captured, it was too late when they realised that winged people weren’t that common there and everyone was staring at them as they walked in the city, leading to their later imprisonment, by the hands of the Lord of Perranth himself, Lord Lorcan. 

They were being kept in a dungeon, understanding why they were there but pissed anyway for allowing themselves to be taken by these people. One hour and a half later they were all clean and in fresh clothes, stuffing their mouths with delicious food and wine, being accompanied by Elide and her mate.  

“This tastes delicious, my lady. Thank you.” Lucien bowed his head towards the lady of the house and Elide smiled at him. 

“When is your queen arriving?” Azriel tried again, to which Lorcan replied. 

“My queen will arrive whenever she deems fit, be grateful that we’re allowing you to join us.” Elide felt her cheeks getting hot at his tone and rested a warm hand around his arm.

“You hear that, Buzzard? He called me his queen.” A blonde female said as she entered the room, hands on her hips as she eyed the Lord and made kissing noises to him, to which he just rolled his eyes.

Behind her, another tall fae slowly walked, white hair and a tattoo on the side of his face, he was beautiful, in a way that they would think of him as a god, but prettier than him, was how he looked at her, like she was the only female that walked on this earth, his eyes shining with pride and undeniably love, he kept a respectful distance but they knew he would give his life  to protect her if he had to. Nesta sniffled the air, mates, just like Elide and Lorcan. 

“He’s finally warming up to you, Fireheart.” The male gave Lorcan’s shoulder a tight squeeze prompting him to groan. Elide was already up, greeting the female with a hug. 

“Please join us, are you hungry, Aelin?” She pulled a chair for Aelin. “We have chocolate cake.” The female looked at Elide, her blue eyes sparkling with anxiety and she nodded her head. 

“You know how to win me over.” She pinched Elide’s cheek and the smaller female signalled for the maid to bring the dessert, their plates getting taken away. She turned to them, her eyes locking with Nesta’s, but she didn’t lower her head. “You must be our guests for the day, I’m Aelin Ashryver Withethorn Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen.” It was purely out of fear of losing their necks that they bowed to her. “That's Rowan, King of Terrasen.”

“What brings you all here? We have never seen anyone like you.” Rowan pointed towards  the two illyrians, their wings scraping against the floor in those normal chairs. Aelin kept looking at them. 

“We’re looking for someone.” Lucien took the lead, trying to appear friendly. Aelin smiled.

“She promised we wouldn’t have to worry about any of you because you had no interest in our world, yet, here you are, in my Kingdom.” She pointed her fork at them, before dipping it in the chocolate frosting. 

“We have no ill intentions, we just want my mate back.” Azriel said and they all looked at him surprised. 

“She didn’t mention a mate.” Rowan pointed out and Azriel felt his heart shatter a bit, was she embarrassed of being his mate? Why wouldn’t she say anything about him if she talked about them?

“It’s what a good ruler would do, protect their people from any harm, we understand.” Cassian said, giving them a smile to which Elide returned. 

“Well, after everything she went through, I guess she wanted to keep this pain to herself.” Aelin concluded. “We apologise for keeping you all as prisoners but you must understand that we’ve been through many things and we can’t let our guards down.”

“You all came here, without knowing how it would be, to see Y/N?” Elide asked and Azriel nodded.

“I would go to Hell for her. Elain saw her, and I couldn’t bear being away from her, knowing she needs me.” His shadows moved faster at the mention of her.

“I’m sure she will appreciate seeing you all there.” Aelin spoke, taking the last bite of cake towards her mouth. She got up and Gestured towards them and towards the door. “I’m hosting a ball in Orynth in two days, you are my special guests, Y/N is a dear friend of mine and I want her to be happy, let’s go.”

“We would like to have our things back.” Nesta said as she got up. Lorcan ordered a male to grab their things and soon they were ready to leave, following the Queen and her King in horseback towards Orynth, where Azriel would finally see her again. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Y/N smoothed the fabric of her deep green dress, with a flowy skirt, a crossed neckline, a golden corset hugging her frame and long sleeves, she looked beautiful, feeling the winds on her skin. Behind her back, Godslayer looked like an adornment complimenting her figure, but she still had to escort her queen, and she would be prepared. 

“Ready to go?” Fenrys asked from the door, his suit was a different shade of green, all matching the Terrasen official colour palette. She nodded, checking herself once more, before accepting his extended hand. 

They walked with the other witches, Manon and Aelin had asked him to stay with her so she wouldn’t be left alone, they were still worried about her after the failed attempt. She hated being babysitted but she understood their reasoning, deciding not to argue against them, knowing it was a lost battle. 

The ballroom was filled to the brim with people, she spotted Aelin at the throne, Lysandra by her side as the two giggled about something, and crossing the ocean of people, King Dorian Havilliard made his way towards Manon, bowing to her before placing a kiss to he back of her hand, whisking her away to the dancefloor. 

“We knew this would happen, let’s just grab something to drink, you don’t have to be her guard all night.” Fenrys whispered in her ear, guiding her with a hand on her back, towards the food filled table.  

Y/N sipped on the fizzy drink he offered her, a weird sensation of being watched as she did so, her eyes scanned the crowd, spotting in the middle of the dance floor, a couple dancing, huge wings poking from in between the people as he spun her in the air, her hair cascading down her back in a straight line, fierce blue eyes meeting hers in a millisecond. She could only be imagining things, there was no way those were Cassian and Nesta, not here at least.

Through the night, she kept glancing at the couple that looked like them so much, she also spotted a male with his long red hair in a ponytail, hand in hand with a female with flowers on her hair, and here and there she decided that she indeed was going insane, her friends wouldn’t ever cross the border for her, they weren’t there and she would never see them again.

“Hey, let’s go somewhere more private? This is starting to bore me.” Fenrys spoke against the shell of her ear, and she nodded. 

He escorted them through the empty halls of the castle, stopping in front of a door, pushing it open and urging her inside, telling her to wait for him while he fetched something for them to drink. Fenrys closed the door rather quickly, leaving her alone in the darkness. A cold breeze danced on her skin, she swore it was shadows dancing against her, creating goosebumps whenever they touched her. 

And as a light appeared, illuminating the room, she saw Azriel sitting on a chair, her knees almost faltering as she drank him in, hair falling to his forehead in loose curls, a suit matching her dress, his wings standing proudly behind him. She couldn’t control herself, afraid this was some sort of sick joke her brain was pulling in her, she jumped in his lap. 

Feeling him underneath her fingertips, looking at him so closely, feeling his warmth and his scent, it all told her that it was real and he was there for her, the chance Asterin promised in a dream, right in front of her now. She glued her lips to his, kissing him with all the longing she felt in those months apart, her chest almost bursting open with all the emotions coming from the bond, humming with life after being reunited with her mate.

“You came.” She breathed as they departed, resting her forehead against his, her eyes closed, just feeling him there. 

“I promised to respect your decision, but I couldn't live without you. You have to come back to our home.” He cupped her cheek. “I’ll build you a cabin with the garden and the books you dreamed about, I’ll learn how to take care of sheeps so Meraxes will always have fresh food, I’ll make all of your dreams happen, I’m yours for you to use whoever you please.” 

She leaned in again, kissing him repeatedly, her heart beating so loudly that she knew it reverberated throughout the whole room. She traced his features, exactly like she remembered him to be. 

“I love you, words are never going to be enough to express how much I waited for you, for the love of my life. I want to marry you, call you my husband, have our children running around and driving us insane. I want to grow old with you, spend every single moment of my life by your side until the gods decide that it is enough.” Azriel and her were crying now, while they smiled at each other.

“I’ll give you the greatest wedding ever, I’ll climb Ramiel and yell to the world to hear that you’re mine, and I’m yours, until The Mother decides that it is enough.” Someone knocked on the door and he rolled his eyes. “Come in.”

The door opened to reveal Elain, Lucien, Nesta and Cassian at the other side, squeezing themselves in and pulling her to greet her. She passed from hug to hug, talk to talk, hearing how they all went against Rhysand’s orders and jumped to Erilea to get them back, without realising, she was crying harder at that sight.

“I can’t believe you all came for me.” She sobbed.

“You’re family, we don’t leave family behind.” Cassian said, pulling them all for a hug. “Are you ready to go home?” 

“More than ever.” She assured them. 

“But don’t think that you’re leaving without saying goodbye.” Manon said from the door, behind her all of her friends waited for her. “Asterin would be really proud of you.” Manon pulled her for a hug.

“She is, and she’s proud of you too, all of them are, they wanted you to know that.” She whispered into her queen’s ear and Manon felt her heart squeeze at her words, she could just hope that her Thirteen were proud of her, after all, all that Manon did was for them.

“Promise you will visit.” Lysandra said, embracing her. 

“I will, we can always find a way to forge a second key.” She winked, embracing all of her friends. Aedion, Dorian, Lorcan, Elide, Rowan and then Aelin.

“If you change your mind, we’re all here waiting for you, but remember, you deserve to be happy, never forget that.” She cried on Aelin's shoulder and they all smiled at her. 

“Don’t ever forget me.” Fenrys said, approaching her after she let Aelin go.

“How could I ever forget you? You saved me.” She looked at him, blinking four times, to which he replied, blinking four times too. “I love you Fenrys, thank you for being my friend.” The male hugged her again.

“I’ll miss you, but please, be happy. I love you.” She nodded, promising that she would.

That night, after she said goodbye to all of them, they walked the group outside the walls of Orynth, giving her one last chance of looking at the Thirteen, her eyes remaining on Asterin’s figure a little while longer. She would make Asterin proud by living her life as she pleased, being happy and giving a chance to live the love she wanted so much. 

She waved them goodbye, Nesta opened the gate, the slit in the sky. Meraxes roared loudly, being the first one to cross, followed by Elain and Lucien, then Cassian and Nesta, and finally, after looking for the land she called home for a century, she grabbed Azriel’s hand a little bit tighter as the crossed towards Prythian again, falling in between the world until they landed on top of Ramiel.

“You should rest, we have Valkyrie training tomorrow morning.” Nesta warned, being carried by Cassian towards what she could only presume was Velaris. 

“And we have gardening lessons at noon.” Elain winked, disappearing with Lucien as he winnowed away, leaving her and Azriel alone.

“I’m glad to have you back.” He said, the winds roaring around them.

“I’m glad to be back.” She replied, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him again.

“I agree with the girls, we should head home and rest.” Azriel spoke, urging her towards Meraxes, watching as she climbed the wyvern’s leg, using his wings to get on top, strapping himself behind her, resting his head on top of her shoulder. “We have a wedding to plan.”

“A wedding?” She gasped, using the reins to make Meraxes fly.

“Yes, a big wedding, big enough to accommodate you friends, I’m sure Aelin would be pissed if she missed it, she was eager to help Nesta with the plan to get us back together, I’m sure those two will find a way to make a new key just so they can talk about books.” He laughed.

“Bringing them here?” The winds whipped her hair around.

“We may have made a deal of friendship, visiting each other’s world whenever we want, just because you chose me, doesn’t mean you have to stay away from them.” 

“You didn’t have to.” She whispered, her words being carried with the wind.

“I know it would make you sad not to see them, and I want to make sure that you don’t have sad days anymore, just happiness.” He kissed her neck and she blushed. 

“No more sad days then. I love you Azriel.”

“And I love you much more than you can even imagine.” She smiled at him, love filling the cracks in her heart, finally making her a whole person again, to never be broken and damaged again, she would never be like she was before, she would never feel small or afraid in her life. After all, her name was Y/N Blackbeak and she would not be afraid. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

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[joelslegalwhre]

And just like that

pairing ⁀➷ henry cavill x (fem!)reader

word count ⁀➷ 1.8k

summary ⁀➷ You and Henry have known each other since you were both little. After his last breakup, you comfort him… which makes him realize some things

warnings ⁀➷ it’s just a shit ton of fluff and reader comforting henry

a/n ⁀➷ Please tell me if I missed a warning! The names I gave Henry's brother's wives (Elisa, Maia, Ashlyn) aren't their real names i don't even know if all of his brothers have wives!

(I listened to my h.c. playlist while writing this, especially to ‚Still falling for you‘ [the song was my inspiration for writing this in the first place])

🥤my kofi if you’d like to leave a tip🩷

Henry never liked other women flirting with him in front of his girlfriend. Why would they do that? To discomfort his girlfriend, to prove they would be better for him, out of pure ignorance for the other woman?

He didn't know, but no matter why, he didn't like it one bit. You knew that. And even if you didn't, you had enough dignity not to do it. You just thought about how uncomfortable you would be in their situation.

You and Henry knew each other for what felt like your whole life. The earliest your memory went, was playing with him on the set of some movie your dad directed and Henry stared in as one of the kids.

There were lots of comments that you had to suppress in front of his girlfriend and him, joking with his brothers instead, it just wouldn't be appropriate. It would sound too intimate for you. And by all means, you respected his girlfriends and never wanted to discomfort them.

Henry wasn't what some would call a playboy, but he had some girlfriends now. Even if you had feelings for him way before he even met some of them, why be rude to them.

But breaking up with his latest girlfriend, really had its effects on Henry.

He hadn't been as happy as he usually was. When you had visited him, even Kal seemed to be upset because his dad was so different to how he usually was.

He didn't attend the first dinner of the month at his brothers, a tradition you shared with his family and him. Usually all the kids, his brothers and their wives would be there, and Henry would bring Kal with him. Much to the kid's joy.

So when he didn't attend that dinner this month, you knew his mind was still occupied with whatever storm was raging inside him. He had told you that he was okay, still a lot on his mind but he assured you, after worried looks and lots of long phone calls, that it wasn't because of the breakup. Which you thought was at least something in the right direction of getting your old ‚bear Henry‘ back, wasn't it?

You hadn't expected another dinner so close after the last, but you loved them, and so you didn't complain. Rather, you accepted Elisa's invitation to join her and the others for dinner that night.

You were greeted by Kal, excitedly barking when you opened the door. "Hey, bub. I missed you!" you chuckled as you bent down to pet him, as he deserved.

„Is your dad here too?" you asked him in a whisper, smiling at his loyal eyes. Kal seemed to understand exactly what you meant, as he ran to the kitchen. „'Ello!,, you shouted from the doorway.

You hadn’t expected Henry today, but your heart had skipped a beat when Kal welcomed you instead of the others.

„I was greeted by the sweetest dog I know, and he told me you’d be here." you jokingly greeted everyone. „Hey!" Maia greeted you with a hug as she was closest to you. Henry's gaze lingered on you the whole time.

The others followed right after.

So did dinner and it was wonderful. The guy's cooking skills were restaurant-worthy, and you almost drooled when you saw the plates Henry and Charlie brought in from the kitchen. When everyone had finished, you volunteered to wash the dishes. Eventually, every one of you did it once and after some discussion on whether to let you do it alone, Ashlyn won and helped you.

"l'm going to join the others outside, you wanna come?" she asked you, putting the towel back on the counter.

„Yes, I'll just catch a blanket."

„Alright." Ashlyn chuckled at you.

They all knew how easily you would be cold outside, even in the summer. But you didn't just want to grab a blanket, you wanted to look for Henry.

After he got sent out of the kitchen when he wanted to help you and Ashlyn, you haven't seen him nor heard him with the others.

You saw Kal sleeping on his big cushion next to the couch in the living room. That's where you found Henry too. You walked towards him, coming from behind without much sound.

„Hey." you said, almost in a whisper as to not ruin the mood. It wouldn't have suited the situation to talk loudly. He turned around from where he was sitting on the couch, one leg resting on his knee.

Henry looked up at you and lightly smiled, „Hey“. You knew he was still in thoughts, his features gave it away without him wanting to.

You sat down beside him on the couch and just looked at the fire burning. It wasn't cold yet, actually, it was the middle of august. But the fire wasn't on for warmth but light.

He hadn't turned on any other source of light.

You didn't say anything, you didn't even look at Henry.

It was like so many times before when you've sat next to each other. But yet it was so different. Normally you talked about god knows what. Not this time. It was hard to explain, but you knew he would say something when he felt like it. Sometimes you didn't need to talk to comfort the other.

„I put the kids to bed." he calmly told you. At the sound of his voice you looked up at him, Henry looking at the fire while he said it, but his eyes wandered to meet yours. One of his arms rested on the back of the couch, his leg still draped on his knee as he looked at you.

When you've come in you sat down, your legs were outstretched but now you bent your knees and rested your feet on the couch, facing Henry.

„Yeah? Did you tell them one of the superman stories?" you chuckled at him. „Of course I did." Henry grinned.

But rather than cracking another joke, his smile faded.

You mirrored his expression with worry.

You propped your head on your hand, lightly tilting it to the side.

„l'm here if you want to talk. I can just listen, you know, maybe it'll make you feel better."

„I know. Thank you twinkles."

Your heart missed a beat at the nickname. You couldn't remember when he called you twinkles the last time. It used to be a joking gesture of affection, not meant to be romantically at all. That's what you thought, at least.

„Like a bear?" „Yes, you're built like one, and you do have quite a bit of hair on you." you chuckled, taking another mouthful of your pudding. „Whatever you say, twinkles." Henry huffed, „But you’ve got something on your nose.“ A smile spread across his lips as you squinted.

„Really, where? I can’t see it,“ you tried to wipe it off, unsuccessfully. „Right,“ Henry wiped the pudding off your nose, „here.“. You stared into his eyes as he was only inches away now, „Thank you.“.

„No problem, twinkles.“ he said, his voice a little raspy. Henry blinked a few times before he was back to his joking self with you, „I should call you Rudolph instead of twinkles.“

„Haha,“ you laughed ironically, „the pudding isn’t even red.“ But he only winked at you with a grin.

His eyes captivated your own. Like you've seen them for the first time, not like you've known them for as long as you could think. Neither of you knew what you were doing, but neither of you wanted it to stop.

You blinked a few times, the sound of the crackling fire drowning out, and the only thing you could focus on was Henry. You hadn't moved the slightest as you could feel his breath on your lips.

Still not breaking eye contact, Henry moved his hand to yours, which was still resting on the couch next to you. You lifted one finger and intertwined it with his.

Your hands found each other as you still looked deeply into each other's eyes.

It didn't need one of you to move closer as your lips met.

His lips felt heavenly on yours. Like a reward, a missing piece, like they belonged right where they were in this moment.

Your lips were heaven to him. Your scent captivated him, and to finally know the taste of your lips almost made him moan into the kiss.

Neither of you held back after your lips met in a light and soft kiss. Your intertwined hands loosened in a hurry as you wrapped your hands around his neck, and Henry's hands gently yet demanding cupped your face to pull you closer to him.

It was like you two were drowning and dying of thirst at the same time. You moved closer to him and Henry grabbed your hip with one hand, the other still caressing your cheek. Your lips must've been swollen by now.

His scent gave you a feeling of safety.

His tongue gently brushed over your lips. Your fingers found his curls and lightly tucked at them. All you felt was him. You could only feel Henry at that moment, all you breathed, all you needed, he was everything.

You wished never needing to breathe again, so this could last forever.

Henry quietly whispered your name against your lips, "'m sorry, I…"

„No, don't be." you whispered back.

He exhaled and looked surprised. The next moment you reunited your lips again. Giving him a peck before finally trying to catch your breath. As did Henry. You were still so close to him, his breath tickled your cheek.

Catching you off guard, Henry grabbed your hips with his large hands. Ang yet again you just loved to compare him to a bear.

Henry lightly pulled you to him and wrapped his arms around you. You did the same and pressed your body against his, your arms tightly wrapped around his torso. Henry nestled his head in your hair, breathing in the familiar scent he loved so much. „I should've done that sooner." he whispered.

„You can do it again anytime." you smiled up at him. His chest moved under you at his chuckle.

Your head rested on his chest, and Henry planted loving kisses on your hairline. You just sat there wrapped in each other's arms, no one saying a word, just enjoying being so close.

„I knew it." Elisa whispered to the others. They decided to look for you two on their way to bed. It had gotten late and neither Henry nor you had joined them outside.

Henry's two oldest brothers had bet that you were sleeping on the couch, and Henry had fallen asleep with one of the kids. Elisa, Maia, Ashlyn and the other two Cavill men on the other hand had bet that they would find you together. As they did.

You were curled up on Henry's big frame, his arms wrapped around your body protectively. Both your breaths steady.

„Let's go to bed." Ashlyn chuckled, grabbing her husband's hand. „They look pretty comfortable, no need to wake them up."

To say it was the most comfortable you've slept in a long time would be an understatement.

༄ Don't copy, translate or republish any of my works on any app or other platform please. I only post my work on Tumblr and Wattpad.

Reposts are always appreciated, they really make my day🧡

[yearning-for-autumn]

Sweet Indifference || Elucien angst fic ||

Word Count: 1,150

Pairing: Lucien x Elain

Warnings: Some strong language, angst

Summary: Lucien walks Elain home from Rita's and gets his arse handed to him. Angsty angst and some fluff because I love these two and they deserve a little happiness, as a treat.

A/N: I battled with this fic if i'm honest, but I couldn't give up on it. I love these characters so much, and say what you will about endgame pairings, I really just wanted to explore these two, and their potential. Thank you so much @fandomsmultiverse for reading this through!!

Lucien stared at her in shock. His usually well-guarded features open to her for the first time since the Cauldron. Elain stood in the hallway, shoulders heaving as all the anger – meticulously hidden behind sweet smiles and manicured gardens – felt intimately on display.

Guilt coursed through her as soon as she snapped at Lucien. Looking at him now, there was no denying that she had hurt him, and that had never been her goal, even from the start. He was a pleasant male. But that didn’t mean she wanted to be mated to him.

They had been on their way back from Rita’s, it having been one of the rare occasions that Elain was convinced to join her sisters, and Lucien had asked to walk her home. She had neither refused, nor had she really accepted, so she just tolerated his company on her journey home.

A few years ago she had finally decided to move into a place of her own. It was a small apartment overlooking the Sidra and it suited her fine. Feyre had seemed overjoyed that she was finally comfortable enough to be on her own and Elain was happy to let her think that, not wanting to reveal the real reason – that every night she awoke terrified and unsure whether her nightmares were visions, or fictitious. Not wanting to keep anyone awake, she decided it was best if she had a place to herself.

Her frustration grew with every passing minute alone in Lucien’s company.

“How is the new apartment?” He asked, and she really didn’t want to discuss that with him at all, she hummed,

“Nice.” She said. He gave her a small smile and she avoided his gaze.

“The Sidra is lovely to look at isn’t it. I have a view from my apartment as well, it reminds me of the lakes and rivers of home.” He tried again.

“Mhm.” Elain brushed him off, as she always did.

With a dejected look, he fell back a step. Elain let out a quiet sigh as that usual guilt crept up on her. It was habit now, to ignore him, and – stubborn as she was – it was near impossible to break it now. Not to mention humiliating.

Elain made her way up the stairs to her apartment and Lucien followed, seemingly intent on walking her all the way to the door. She bit back a growl as she fished out her keys, Lucien still waiting behind her, and unlocked the door, hoping that when she turned he would have made himself scarce. Of course, when she did, Lucien was still lingering in the doorway. This time she did growl.

“Cauldron would you just leave?” She snapped, surprising herself with the very Fae phrase that escaped her. It only served to upset her more.

“Can you not think of anything better to do than to bother me? I think I have made it perfectly clear I don’t want anything to do with you, and frankly—” and she really lost all sense of what she was saying, hands fisted in her hair and cheeks flushed, “—frankly I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last male in all of Prythian. And I refuse to be forced into it just because some-some pot told you I was Made for you!”

She breathed heavily. Lucien didn’t respond for a few, silent moments, staring at her as she tried to regain any dignity she had left. He was oddly still, even his mechanical eye that was always whirring or flickering was preternaturally still in its socket.

“Is that really how you feel, Elain?” Her name on his lips was a melody that calmed her, despite her minds wishes. “I’m not here to fuck you. I’m not here for anything. I’m just—I’m trying to be your friend.”

Elain’s breath caught in her throat and she dropped her shoulders.

“I thought I had found my mate,” Lucien continued, “years ago, before you were Made, perhaps even before you were born. She was murdered by my father whilst I was forced to watch, and since then I have given up on the chance of finding another. When you were spat from the Cauldron, I was just as confused as you were, and yes I shouldn’t have said anything, but for the first time I had the smallest glimpse of hope.” He took a shuddering breath and Elain could say nothing to comfort him.

“Elain, I would never do anything to hurt you. I will leave you alone if it’s what you truly want. But please don’t make me leave the Night Court. Feyre is my friend. Seeing you flinch every time I appear in a room you are in is killing me, even if you detest me.”

There was desperation in his eyes, in his voice, Elain could smell it in the air. A scared little boy with few friends, and no home. To force him to leave the only people he had would be a terrible thing indeed, she knew that for certain. Lucien’s eyes were trained on the floor in the way of respectful gentry. He was everything Grayson should have been all those years ago, if only she loved him as fiercely as she loved that human. A misplaced love. It wasn’t something she could think about so instead she took a small step towards him, watching his eyes flicker up in surprise.

“I’m sorry about your mate.” She said, the best she could do, whilst fiddling with the delicate bracelet around her wrist.

“She wasn’t my mate.” Lucien stated, matter-of-factly. He seemed to struggle with his words, a far cry from the polished Emissary. He wrung his hands. “Look. I can’t change the decisions the Mother has made. I don’t pretend to understand how the Cauldron works any more than you do. But I would never try to force you into anything, you forget I have as little choice as you do in this matter.”

Elain saw the eyes of a male who thought she truly hated him, and guilt settled deep in her gut.

“I don’t dislike you.” She offered.

“Then why do you refuse to look at me?” Lucien pressed.

“I’m not ready for another relationship.”

“Nor am I.” He confessed, and despite all he had said, Elain found herself surprised. “I just want us to be able to talk.” He said.

Elain loosed a breath and Lucien started turning to leave, but she stepped forward hurridly. Her arm darted out and without thinking she had grabbed his wrist,

“Lucien.” He whipped around, looking down at her hand as if her touch had branded him “I’ll put the kettle on. There are books on the coffee table, or cards. I don’t—I’m not good company. But I want to try...friends?”

Lucien’s mouth twitched upwards in a small smile.

“Friends.” He agreed. And he stepped inside.

[drunkonimagination]

i like to imagine that once thomas and james are both officially engaged to the carstairs siblings, they'll start having these big family dinners, in which the lightwood (lightwood-collins family), herondale and carstairs meet.

and please, imagine the chaos.

the moment the dinner starts will and gideon will immediately take hostage of the poor alastair and cordelia to spend the evening boasting shamelessly about their favorite carstairs.

then we have risa being particularly kind and friendly to the lightwood family, and occasionally ruffling thomas's hair while serving the courses. and of course ignoring james all the time. the poor man turns to cordelia, almost desperate.

daisy, why is she always so cold with me?? what did i do? :((

it's not your fault, darling. you're just white and british.

but thomas is too 😭

at some point lucie interrupts the dinner to read the latest chapter of "the beautiful cordelia", vibrating from enthusiasm for the addition of a new character and forbidden romance to her story.

both thomas and alastair know, and are literally dying inside.

halfway through the lecture james starts an argument because, why can thomas get his happy ending while i must be eternally marked as the "cruel prince james"?

lucie dismisses quickly the question with a gesture of the hand, saying her brother is too annoying to deserve the role of the good knight, differently from thomas.

risa nods in approval from afar, like, she's got a point, right!?

tessa and sophie are trying to hold a laughter the entire time.

gideon and will, on the other hand, seem genuinely caught up with the story. thomas even tries to ease off the enthusiasm and preserve his dignity in the process, but his efforts are in vain.

dad make her stop, please

be silent thomas, i want to know what happens next.

sona, meanwhile, takes james's frustration to heart and, as the good mother-in-law she is, decides to go comfort him. she heads toward the complaining herondale and drops baby carstairs on thomas's lap. thomas, for its part, gives up on trying to divert his father attention from his “forbidden romance” and spends the rest of the evening playing with alastair's sibling. he particularly enjoys making funny faces at them to make them laugh, attracting four pairs of heart eyes, in between. his mother. and of course his man.

to end in style, eugenia eventually gets bored with all this “fuss” and expresses her desire to show some new moves with her sword. she abruptly stands up and drags poor alastair with her to make him fight as her opponent, since everyone knows he keeps weapons under his jacket all the time. even during mealtime.

+ cordelia gets excited and joins

[themonotonysyndrome]

Desmond verse - Hell hath no fury - for she is here

An Ask on Tumblr led me to write this oneshot in a single night. The writing frenzy was super fun though!

A huge shoutout to Deadmeme Jack, another awesome writer in this fandom (read her fics. They're awesome!). She literally sat down on a Discord call with me for more than 4 hours to help edit through this fic. I've learned a lot from her and had so much fun! So thank you, Jack! You're the Queen of Beta Readers everywhere!

Tagging: @moonandstarlightsposts @itsdaifuku @neptune-cinths @theealluringstoryteller @the-bewitching-hour-at-4 @daveyistheloml

Summary: Before she’s a woman, Celica is the Imperial Baroness of the Coastal Empire first and foremost. But when her dignity as a woman is wounded, she’s more than happy to remind Rhett, Castin, and every Intacians present why a woman’s wrath is akin to hellfire.  

OR

A ‘what if’ oneshot where after being publicly humiliated during her Intacian debut and being told not to make a scene, Baroness Anesidora refuses to hold her tongue.

-

Celica could remember the day her world shifted on its perfect axis. 

Ezekiel greeted her morning, carrying a pot of Black Assam and a pink diamond necklace tucked in a velvet box - the first piece made from her mines and a promising start to a profitable collection. Tea and gems - a wonderful combination that would brighten any woman’s day.

Only for her best friend (who had been missing for months) to quite literally crash through her bedroom window (which was most definitely not on the ground floor), startling the poor maids solely to confess that she had fallen in love with a man - A Witch Hunter of all things! 

Yes, the Baroness knew that nothing would ever be the same again. Though she still called the doctor to check her brain and later the Exorcist. Just for good measure.  Once her friend was deemed ‘somehow - actually sane’. She deemed it a good measure for all to wash up. 

Clad in her freshly steamed bathrobe (“Thank you, Ezekiel”), the maids resumed preparing the Baroness for the day ahead, Celica kept her mind open as Isolde Vermillion waxed on and on about her and Rhett’s vision for Intacia and the Coastal Empire. About how future generations deserve to grow up without centuries of war looming above their heads and that peace is long overdue. She hums when needed, nodded at some of the points that would benefit the Anesidora Household in the long run and even humoured Isolde’s tales of her misadventures.

However, those weren’t enough to quell her anger over Isolde’s abduction. Even if something allegedly good came out of it.  

“It’s clear that the two of you put lots of thought into this,” The Baroness remarked, faux blithe. In front of the vanity mirror, she struggles to muster a smile when one of the maids delicately drapes the new necklace around the column of her neck. In apropos of nothing, Celica asks, “That reminds me, have you heard of the rose bushes they planted at the academy grounds recently? Rumour has it that they are fast becoming a romantic spot for couples.” 

The smile on the Water Ascendant’s face froze. She put down the cup of tea and exhaled slowly, understanding the true nature behind the Baroness’ words. Gambling, mind games and layered conversations - the favourite pastime of Imperial Nobility, her friend being no different. Isolde began to choose her words wisely as Celica dismissed her maids with a stilted smile and soft tilt of her head.

“I… I know it doesn’t make sense, but after everything I’ve been through, I understand that Rhett is actually a good man. He’s far from perfect, but his heart is always in the right place, his head is always thinking about what’s best for his country and people. But he also carries a lot of regret for what he did as a Witch Hunter, Celica. The assault at the academy? Those deaths? It’s all because of this-this forsaken war! Both sides are equally the sinner and victim, you do agree don’t you?” The Ascendant implored her, beautiful green eyes all but begging. 

Celica said nothing. Truth be told, she couldn’t have cared less about the war since it has never affected her or her business. That is, until Isolde’s disappearance frightened her enough to learn everything she could about the Witch Hunter’s organisation and Intacia’s standing in the war. Pushed her enough to smuggle a group of Ascendants to Intacia’s naval base just so they could rescue Isolde. And if the worst came to be, avenge her best friend by any means necessary. 

“I don’t care about the war, Isolde. I care about you,” The Baroness genuinely admits, causing the other woman to flinch, eyes wide in shock. Shock, as if she hadn’t considered the content of the characters of those who stood beside her.

‘Of course, she wouldn’t have’.

“You know of my duties. You know I must put the welfare of the Empire and her Royal Family first. Most people don’t even know a war is going on right now. But you and Reyes are the only friends that I have - Do you understand how scared for your life I was when you disappeared, Isolde? How, even now, as we’re sitting together for the first time in months, I am desperately trying to understand how you could ever fall in love with your enemy?” She tried not to spit out the words, but she could feel some of her loathing seep through.

Such framing seemed selfish. Perhaps because she was raised without parents to love her and moulded by the strict and indifferent Imperial customs throughout her life; a dark part of her refuses to feel guilty about said selfishness. Call it nurture or nature it does not matter, everything considered the Baroness possessively protects those she cares for. 

It was the honesty in that selfishness - perhaps even the vulnerability - that Isolde appreciated. Likewise, even reciprocated. Pushing herself off the settee to kneel in front of the Baroness, Isolde placed her hands on top of Celica’s. 

“Then, as your best friend, I beg you, give Rhett a chance. Try to understand that he’s more than just an enemy; he’s the man I love. A man that will bring an end to this war. We just need your help to make it happen.” She squeezed her hands with fondness. “I believe in him. I believe the future we can make together, and I want you there with me.”

And because Isolde is one of hers, Celica closed her eyes and nodded once. Setting the motions that utterly destroyed her old life. 

***

Today is the same day that Isolde returned to her a month ago. It seemed longer given all that had happened. Only this day marks an important occasion for everyone involved. 

In a land where commoners, warriors and politicians could mingle and receive first-hand news on where Intacia was heading in the future, information was the new great power - if only by becoming a more visible player in the game of politics. Something the new monarchs were keenly aware of as they made the arrangements for Celica’s debut. Celica’s own political machinations had been kept hidden from the public eye. Yet, no matter how quiet Celica’s arrival was, rumours still spread like wildfire; an Imperial Noble was amongst them. Keeping things under wraps became more difficult the longer Celica was kept hidden. A fine balance was to be struck; too rushed a debut would inspire disaster in a country that held great animosity towards her stature, whilst too delayed would leave them losing the upper hand it granted them should she be exposed. 

Tonight, the royal palace was alive with music and buzzing excitement. Food and drinks are plenty for all, with everyone enjoying themselves. Most of them were blatantly staring at Celica from afar. She had been instructed earlier to rest at the quiet corners of the banquet, completely covered from head to toe in her white dress, tight puffed sleeves with a beautifully ornate lace as the chest piece.

No one dared approach her. 

The Baroness was just mentally debating fixing herself a plate of macaroons from the table when King Rhett - her best friend’s enemy, kidnapper and husband - decided to make himself known with a neat bow. 

It would have been considered quite polite by Imperial standards. Had he not also made a concerted effort to stare into her eyes beyond the embroidered veil. ‘It’s not their culture’ She assured herself, ignoring the nagging doubt in her mind that Isolde would have already taught him this.

“Baroness, a word?” 

Celica gave him a curt nod. Together they stepped away from listening ears.

He continued;

“The Queen wanted me to tell you she’s sorry she couldn’t be here,” Celica felt her heart sink just a little at that. “But we both wanted to thank you again for your cooperation. I know this is likely not what you imagine for yourself, but the sacrifice you are making is deeply appreciated.” 

From behind her veil, Celica stared coldly. “I’ve not decided yet.” 

The once Witch Hunter caught his blunder. “Right. That is if you choose to go through it.”

The Baroness shifted her attention to the crowd before her, lightly tugging at the veil obscuring her view. Somewhat surprisingly, he seemed to notice her annoyance at the itchy fabric.

“Yes. I’m sorry about the veil; I know it is dumb. But it’s an Intacian tradition, and we must humour the old men. Your future husband must not see you until I present you to him.”

She tried not to be irritated by his comment. Regardless of the outright duplicity veils had in her culture beyond death - she had agreed to this. Did he not know? Veils were considered so duplicitous to her own people, that it was downright cheating! Only acceptable in the height of mourning. Yet, here she was, doing him the favour of disregarding her own people’s traditions for his. Repeating Isolde’s words in her mind, she tried to assure herself. ‘Of course, he couldn’t know, it’s not like he’s our king. Surely he only meant to comfort me rather than highlight my own frustration to everyone? To assure me as opposed to belittling both people's traditions?’ Her self-assurance was apparently lacking.

The topic of her husband and arranged marriage has only been discussed twice, and both times were brought to the table by Rhett. The man assures her that he has someone that could match her in every way, including status, but he’s also held his tongue from speaking any further. As if not to spook her. Celica would pardon him if he was one of her servants, but the withheld information did nothing to endear this new King Rhett to her. 

“What kind of man is he?”

“Well, uh… his name is Castin. Castin Hammer, and as I’m sure you’ve heard, he’s a dear friend of mine. Were it not for his support of him and his fighting men, we may have not succeeded in uniting our nations.”

“I see. So I take it he’s rather good?” 

“He’s a great warrior, in fact. Among the best in Intacia.” King Rhett boasted, pride dripping from every word for his friend - blatantly missing her own ‘praise’ and the opportunity to quip with her. Perhaps he was hoping to appease and nurture a sense of curiosity within the Baroness - something young children from Noble Household’s often do during playtime to win over their friends. 

She could imagine how an Imperial King might react, something closer to ‘other than being my First Commander? He’s decent.’ But Rhett was not just an Imperial King consort - but an Intacian King. She would have to adjust. Celica, not for the first time held back a sigh; she felt far too old to play this sort of childish game.

“Where is he?” 

King Rhett frowned. The Baroness’ succinct questions reflected a tempestuous mood, and he knows he must manage that well. “I… don’t know. He should’ve been here already.” He then beckons one of the younger workers.

“Messenger.”

“Yes, King Rhett?”

“Go. Find out what’s keeping Castin.”

The messenger bowed once - perfect in his politeness - before making himself scarce. King Rhett resumes their conversation. 

“Listen, before he arrives, I must tell you, Castin is, uh, how can I say… a guarded man. It may take time and patience to bring him out of his shell.” 

‘Finally’ she thought, ‘something intriguing about him’.

“So he’s a shy, great warrior?” 

King Rhett hesitantly shook his head. “No. I did not mean it in that way. He’s… definitely not shy, but - ” 

Suddenly, the large entrance door pushes open, and the messenger returns. “King Rhett, presenting First Army Commander, Castin Hammer.” 

Celica could see how her best friend’s husband - finally slipped into his kingly persona, though it would’ve made her etiquette teacher massage her forehead in its obviousness. Back ramrod straight, chin up and eyes, front; it was as though Castin was commanding him. He walked forward - at least his gait did not seem haltered.

As Rhett took the proverbial stage, conversations tapered off. 

“Commander Castin, thank you for coming.”

“Yeah, of course, King Rhett. Sorry, I’m late.” 

In the background, a woman boldly interjects. “Asshole!” Her friends giggle. Something begins to itch beneath the Baroness’ skin.

King Rhett cleared his throat - without meaning to, yet acknowledging them. That itch steadily spreads. 

“Castin, our new nation owes you a debt it cannot repay. As a friend, I would like to thank you for the sacrifices you’ve made to get us here.”

“Yeah, of course, don’t sweat it.” 

At this point, it clearly must be Intacian manners. 

“And now, I ask you to make another.” King Rhett paused to address the crowd, staring each of them in the eye. “I know many of you have reservations about our union with our former Imperial enemies - ” 

Immediately, the audience began to stir. A few people murmuring that ‘reservations’ are too mild of an understatement, yet still, King Rhett took it all in stride. “It is OK. Do not hide it. Get out in the open what we are all thinking. I know many of you secretly talk about it among yourself. You are angry over the centuries of war that come from the Empire's constant aggression. Angry over the suffering and devastation brought upon by the Ascendants. And you have every right to be.”

What a bold move. One that put his Imperial guest in great jeopardy should he lose said audience’s reins. She doubted very much that the strapped dagger on her thigh would hold more than one off.

“But know that staying angry will not change the past. We’ve won. But seeking revenge will only result in more suffering. It is time we end this cycle that’s been repeating for centuries now. Put away the grudges and start building a new future where war on this continent is a thing of the past.” His attention returned to Castin once more, who seemed more interested in what was behind her veil than his king’s speech. “Castin, I am asking you to contribute to that future.” 

Celica's shoulders are poised, tensed in a way that seems elegant to the people surrounding her. 

When King Rhett offers her an arm, she could have screamed at the inelegance. ‘He’s Isolde’s husband, not mine! It would not be against either custom to offer his arm as the father of his country to a guest, in fact, it would be rather flattering to hold the king’s arm. But given the  context and the lack of his queen, it was as if he was already giving me away as a war bride!’

Still, to refuse would be to refuse His Majesty. 

Tentatively, she held on as lightly and gently as she could as he escorted her to the centre of the hall, where Castin and his troops stood. The King, not his messenger, made the personal introduction. “Presenting the Imperial Baroness Anesidora and personal friend of the Queen.” He then leaned closer to her, whispering - “Now, take off the veil!” 

Expression perfectly schooled and hands steady as ever, the Baroness pulls back the white cover. Gasps erupted among the crowd and awed murmurs travelling across the hall. Even Castin seemed taken aback. It reminded her vaguely of her first débutante. A familiar feeling in a foreign land - but people were people.

The audience seemed enraptured, King Rhett continued. “Now, Castin - ”

“Nah, it’s OK, Rhett. I can take it from here.” Commander Hammer intervenes. The itch makes Celica restless now when the King side-steps so that the Intacian warrior may approach closer. 

“Baroness. You’re even more… dazzling up close.” He says with an easy swagger. A line that had been fed to the Baroness from those wanting to take advantage of her many times before. So not a good start. But his next sentence starts to wear her already dangerously thin patience. “How’s it going, sweetheart? I’m Castin. Castin Hammer” 

Already, she found her perception of the Commander souring. ‘The audacity of this man! Addressing me using anything but my title?’ 

“It’s a pleasure.” Celica blatantly lied through pursed lips though it seems it flew over his head, for Castin smiles roguishly. 

“Nah, the pleasure is all mine.” His eyes barely concealed the lust brewing, and if this was her manor, Celica would’ve hit him with the bottle that had allowed only inebriation could let slip such a tone. No - actually, Ezekiel would have done it for her.

But the game is still on, so Celica kept her rage to a simmer. “Commander - ”

“Oh, c’mon, you can leave off all that Commander stuff.”

“...Leave it?” Celica repeats, incredulousness creeping into her tone. 

“Yeah, it’s cool. Titles don’t mean anything here, anyway. You can just call me Castin.” The man assures her. Almost eager, in fact, which doesn’t sit well with the Baroness. Titles meant boundaries and boundaries meant room to run for the fucking exit. In an esteemed and elegant manner of course. 

 “I’d rather not, Commander… Castin. Though I will concede your surname.” Perhaps such a pun would be inexcusable at home. Though she doubted Castin had noticed her refusal of his surname already.

Rather than put off like she had hope, Castin chuckled instead. “I like the way it sounds when you say it.” 

“Castin, I believe you had an offer for the Baroness?” King Rhett interrupts.

That apparently snapped Castin back to reality. “Right. Your Grace… I would like to give you pretty much everything I have. My lands, my army, my money - all of it. To you and this new country you’re trying to build. All I want in return is that you agree to be my wife.”

‘What an arrogant form of confession.’ She thought to herself. ‘His lands? Household Anesidora owns a mountain with rich mines. His army? Eaton is an Air Ascendant and her one-man army. His money? She was willing to bet that she makes more monthly than Castin makes annually. And that’s just from her gems alone.’ She side-eyed King Rhett, wondering if the man ever informed his friend exactly who she is. She could excuse such arrogance if he had also been kept as naive as her.

She doubted it though.

Castin cleared his throat. “Speaking of which, Rhett, I brought the Baroness a gift. Can I give it to her?” 

Before Celica could even open her mouth, King Rhett spoke for her. “Of course! How thoughtful of you.” 

Fingers clenching tightly on her dress, the Baroness repeats Isolde’s plea for Rhett in her mind. The blatant disrespect from both men is cracking her patience, and the itch for her poisoned dagger is becoming overwhelming.

Oblivious to the Baroness’ pale knuckles, Castin signals his men. “Bring it here, boys.” One of the warriors marched forward to hand over a box to Castin, who in return, proceeded to present it to Celica. “Here you go, sweetheart. This is for you.” He says and waited expectantly. Pushing a receiver to unravel a present from them in public is a form of rudeness that would make the Imperial Nobles banish Commander Hammer from any future party invitations. 

But this was Intacia and she was a guest. Intacian culture meant she could open it later but with all eyes on her and expectant, she was not to be given that choice apparently. Celica began to untie the ribbons on the box.

“Hopefully, it’s the start of a long and exciting relationship.” He added with a strange grin. Like stating a joke that only he knew. 

Soon enough, though, the Baroness realised why. The audience gasped again, only this time, in shock and glee at her expense when Celica held up a skimpy lingerie. The glass is shattered, and the itch overwhelms her. Her heart is pounding painfully against her ribcage the longer she stares at the offending piece while King Rhett hissed out, “Castin! What is this!?” 

“What? It’s for our marriage bed.” Castin nonchalantly defended himself. Laughter from the crowds rings painfully in the Baroness’ ears.

“What have you done?” King Rhett presses lowly; indignation coloured his tone.

‘Was he stupid? Of course, Castin knew what he had done. Finally, the Intacian mob could witness Imperial humiliation in the flesh.’ All at her expense! She didn’t even care about the stupid war!

But Castin ignored him in favour of the Baroness - delighting in her indignity. How could she go home with this above her head? The Armistice would be over by midnight!

“So, Baroness, what do you think? You know this is genuine Steelgate silk? I’d just figure it might add a little something-something to the wedding night.” 

‘Whether a sadist or simply stupid - it would be a cruel fate if I married him.’

King Rhett immediately turned to the Baroness, hands about to grasp her but catches himself back at the last seconds. “Please, forgive him. I-I told you he is - ”

With a serene expression, Celica lowered her right lingerie-clenching hand and raised her left-  slapping Castin as hard as she could. His chin whips towards the audience as silence descended into the hall. 

“Oh, shit.” a distant voice sounded. Her hand stung triumphantly as Castin turned back to look at her. Smirk freshly wiped from his face.

King Rhett cursed as Castin blinked before asking “What? Did you just slap me?” 

“Oh, no.” The King whined, but it was too late.

Castin began to grin again - but his eyes narrowed at her. “I didn’t realise you Imperial women were so… prudish. You know how expensive that is?”

Sadistic more so than stupid it seems. A cruel fate indeed.

Celica wordlessly stuffed the lingerie back into the box that the now clearly uncomfortable soldier carried. Slamming the lid on top before yanking it away from the still reluctant soldier and throwing it towards Castin’s smug lackeys.

“Whoa, whoa! Take it easy, sweetheart. If you don’t like it, I could always get you something else.” 

“Well. That was utterly insulting.” Celica says, devoid of emotion, making a pointed effort to wipe the dust off her gloves.  

“Insulting? Rhett, please. Tell me, how was this insulting?” ‘So he only pretends to be stupid!’

King Rhett, however, started to panic. Trying again to appease her. “Baroness, please. I understand your frustration. But you are making a scene. The peace is fragile. We must keep up appearances.”

“I’ve been humiliated.” 

“Yes, I know. But, the people of both our nations are watching. Just let me handle this.” 

“No,” Celica softly declared. Her tone sent icy shivers down his spine. “I’ve had enough of your incompetence and disrespect.” 

The Baroness rolled her shoulders back and clasped her hands in front of her stomach. A plastic smile pulled onto her face. To the world, she appears as an image of the inherited imperial right - As though the Goddess herself had begun to pull her strings to a tune of power.

But King Rhett, at that moment, only saw a dark chasm splitting the Baroness into two. Her mask widened as from behind pearl-white teeth, inky darkness flooded out. They were tendrils, threatening to choke every ignorant man and woman nearby.

And what eventually crawled out is a monster unlike anything he has ever seen before. 

-

Rhett could remember the day he lost his childhood. 

When the Ascendants assaulted his village, sparing no one, he could no longer be considered a child. The same goes for any of his surviving playmates. Goddess, even now, Rhett could still feel the burning anger and hatred nestled in his heart when he was a Witch Hunter; he remembered the faces of the Ascendants who removed their armoured masks when the village was no more than a mountain of ashes.

With lungs full of black smoke and eyes stinging with tears as he huddled close with Castin and Lilia, Rhett will forever remember those Ascendants as the ugliest monsters he had ever seen. Logic dictated to the child that they were humans, just like him, but the absolute terror the Ascendants evoked petrified him enough that he thought nothing else would frighten him like that ever again.

Rhett was horribly wrong. 

The Baroness cast an inscrutable glance at Castin and repeated her previous remark, “You have publicly humiliated me as a woman and tarnished my reputation as the Baroness of the Anesidora Household with your… gift.” 

Then she focused on him. 

Something must’ve dawned on Castin - perhaps his self-preservation finally kicks in? Rhett could only hope - for he tried to defend himself again, properly this time, but the Imperial Lady refused to spare any more attention for him. 

Now confronted by his wife’s best friend underneath the glittering chandeliers, Rhett can clearly see the Baroness’ face transform. Her serene human face melted like hot tar, revealing a brand new horror that only a monster could provoke. Its lips curled back, exposing razor-sharp teeth with a guttural snarl. Its eyes, though still ruby red, now have a tint from the abyss with a sort of mindless feral wrapped in shadows. The worst is its gaze; it struck Rhett like a furious beast from Hell, terrifying him in place. Distantly, Rhett wondered if his heart had ceased to beat because he was certainly struggling to breathe. 

Unlike the Ascendants, who were monsters moulded by war, the abomination in front of him was nurtured. Hungry eyes tore apart even the tiniest flaw on Rhett’s face. 

He had been a fool to think the Baroness was a creature sheltered in peace.

“Your blatant disrespect of my title infuriates me, Your Majesty,” Celica Anesidora’s voice is controlled. Smooth as silk yet loud enough to be heard by everyone in the hall. “So I will approach the Queen with a simple question: Me or you?” 

“What do you mean…?” The young King questioned warily. His mouth tasted of ash.

“Tomorrow, the Queen must decide: her husband or best friend. If she chooses you, I will return to the Empire. I will withdraw my support, wealth, business networks and influence from Intacia. Burying my friendship with the Queen for choosing a man that repeatedly insulted her best friend, her fellow countrymen and even herself. My support of this peace rendered meaningless, and the embargos shall resume as well active assault. However, if she chooses me, I will bring her home. I will then personally fund the Imperial army using every last coin from the Anesidora fortune. My Knight will lead every available Ascendant I can employ against Intacia. When your lands are utterly destroyed and your people starving, I wonder how many of your ‘brothers and sisters’ will clamour to bring me your head for my mercy.”

The room was silent. A pin drop could have been heard had there been one. Everyone in the room held a collective breath. Castin’s face was paler than a phantom as his hand rested uneasily over his sword hilt, waiting for permission to draw and behead her. King Rhett swallowed thickly. The atmosphere stayed tense, waiting for the guillotine to fall. 

“Are… are you threatening me?” 

“No, Your Majesty. That wasn’t a threat. It’s a promise.” 

“After everything… I thought you wanted peace! I thought the four of us wanted an end to the war!”

“You think. You want. As if you’ve done something that warrants my endearment to either of those things.” 

She’s curious, Rhett realises in horror. She’s curious as to why he expected her to play nice, even when plans for the unification of their countries are on the table. It’s a sort of selfishness that’s devoid of empathy.

He now understands the warnings his Queen gave him in their bedroom: 

“OK, look, underneath the frills and sparkly stones, Celica is a simple woman with a simple desire. She just wants her family - which you can count on one hand, by the way - close by. While she treats her title as a 9 to 5 job, she takes pride in her hard-earned achievements. But you also got to understand something, Rhett. Living in a gilded cage broke her… I think. And the Empire took advantage of that.” 

“What does that entail exactly?”

“So you know the Imperial Nobles are nasty in their own way, right? Unfortunately, Celica isn’t an exception. She likes pulling strings from the shadows, using others to get what she wants. And when the blame game begins, she’ll have people pointing their fingers at each other. Don’t look at me like that, Rhett! The Baroness isn’t malicious in nature. That’s just, her? She won’t hurt you, but she will just give you enough rope to hang yourself with. Actually, that still sounds kinda bad.”

“‘Kinda?” 

“Hey, she’s on our side! I managed to convince her to give you a chance. So wow her as you did me, OK?” 

Perhaps he had been too distracted in the bedroom. Now in the present, Rhett perfectly comprehends that the Baroness has pushed them all into a corner. The decision that she’ll lay for the Queen is an illusion; no matter what his wife chooses, the Baroness is the victor. If any of his men harm her in retaliation or fear, the Empire will immediately resume attacking Intacia.

It’s insane how an arranged marriage - Hell, just an arranged engagement transformed into a Goddess damned ambush!

King Rhett bit his lower lip, struggling to put a lid on his growing anxiety while the Baroness silently stared at him. Waiting for his next move.

Like most Intacian warriors, Rhett was taught to fight until his last breath. To take death over defeat. Now though? This is bigger than him; the crown on his brows weighs the heaviest. Whatever he does now spells either the doom of his people or elevates them into a new era. 

The politicians began to murmur among themselves; the commoners were confused about how to react while the warriors watch Castin. Castin, now guilt-ridden for pushing his friend to the point of needing to beg an Imperial, steps forward to place Rhett behind him. Only to be pulled back.

It is the King of Intacia that stops him.

It is his friend he cannot bear to watch kneel before her in supplication. Though ranking had never mattered to him, honour did.

“I’ve wronged you terribly, Baroness Anesidora.” The accented baritone voice boomed off the walls despite his humble tone. Celica seemed unmoved by this. “My actions and words tonight were egregious to a woman of your stature. But please, I humbly plead that you reconsider your promise. For the sake of my wife. For the sake of my people. For the sake of my nation. What will it take to earn your forgiveness?” 

Seemed was the word, being on the floor, King Rhett couldn’t see how Celica’s human face snapped back into place. Dragging the monster back into its cage as his gesture once again made her uncomfortable; though for a different reason. Not out of offence, but rather because she found Intacian dramatics to be, well, dramatic.

“Acknowledgement. Accountability. Followed by a public apology from the offending parties,” The Baroness easily offered. As if she’s already planned for this, planned to have him humbled if not humiliated publicly for wronging her and at this point, Rhett doesn’t doubt it.

But since the terms were simple, he eagerly tilts his head up. Hope blooms in his heart like a budding flower during Spring. “Then may Castin and I deliver our - ”

“Unfortunately, I’ve grown weary from tonight’s affair,” King Rhett’s expression dimmed ever so slightly at her announcement. ‘Is the Baroness still playing her games?’

 “I’m open for an audience tomorrow. That should give you plenty of time to practice your deliverance…” Celica offered graciously.

Everyone could only watch as the Baroness gave King Rhett a curtsy before the crowd parts like the sea as she exited the hall. Taking with her the oppressive air yet leaving the Intacians uneasy. Some claim that Baroness Anesidora was bluffing; others didn’t dare to wait for the fallout. 

Cutting through the chattering partygoers, Castin helps Rhett up to his feet. His voice is uncharacteristically small when he speaks. “I… I shouldn’t have - I never - I didn’t mean…” The Intacian warrior exhales deeply and tries again. “I didn’t mean for things to turn out like this. It was my fault, Rhett. I’ll fix it with the Baroness; I promise.” 

The words rang in his ear. Chorusing the night, “It’s a promise.” 

“I was in the wrong as well, brother. I should’ve paid closer attention to the Baroness. This went beyond cultural differences; this was a political nightmare.” King Rhett sighed, rubbing a palm over his jaw. Another realisation hit him; the Baroness purposely chose to talk to the Queen tomorrow. Forcing Rhett to break the news of what happened tonight to his wife so he would stew in the pot a little longer. 

‘What a -.’ 

“So what’s our game plan?” His Commander asked seriously. 

“Acknowledge our mistakes. Give the Baroness an appropriate form of accountability. Apologise to her with both nations as witnesses.” King Rhett parroted. 

Castin whistled lowly. “A Water Ascendant as our Queen and an Imperial Baroness as my spouse. Rhett, I say this as your buddy, but you sure know how to pick your women.”  

[ronearoundblindly]

I've been working on the finale of Dignity of His Choice for over a year now.

That's hard to say. It's hard to admit that this story I feel such excitement and passion for is just *not coming to the page* like so many others have with less excitement and passion. The Stark Legacy has been the same way, except it's been a year and a half.

I have...responsibilities that aren't writing though. I own my business and have no employees. I live alone now and pay for everything, clean everything, maintain everything. It's just me. I think I used to write Fools Rush In with the hope that having to think of both perspectives in a relationship would somehow change mine, if only shift my thoughts to why my marriage was probably fine and I was making too big a deal.

But it wasn't fine.

I don't mean this is a dramatic way (because a relationship between two people will always be evolving and have growing pains, even when everyone is communicating and moving towards the same goal with mutual respect), but I was being lied to. It was a simple lie, sure, something that wouldn't and didn't fully impact our entire lives until the tiny friction point snapped like two tectonic plates, and then in an instant, rattled and confused, we were gone. The layout of my world just *changed* and wasn't going to go back to normal. Normal never existed. It was just then and this is just now.

It's been so difficult to feel that happen in my real life and not fear for my characters--which I get is projection at its finest, but still--how do I protect them? How do I make their life seem real without snapping it in half and then lying about putting it back together? I couldn't do that. I'm alone. What do I know?

Except...I've been writing Fools Rush In for nearly two years, and I never actually knew what communicating and moving towards the same goal with mutual respect really looked like. I was wrong. I've been wrong the whole time. My life, exactly like my art, was fiction. I fabricated happiness in my home and on the page, and in one of those places, I already failed.

There was no finish line or last sentence; the whole story just vanished with an unhappy ending that proved the entire thing was some sort of fever dream. I had put a decade of effort into absolutely nothing. Worse. I worked for that long on hope when there was none.

I've often thought that I relate to Steve/Sketch as much as Reader/Keeps in the FRI series because I play more of a narrator role in life. Steve had a story to go through: survive illness, become a soldier, lead others to victory and safety. In canon, we often see him...not living his own life, and it's even commented on frequently. I think I've been taking on a similar role. You have no idea how difficult it is for me to consider myself the protagonist; things happen to other people, I want good things to happen to other people, but I am not the one who experiences them.

I didn't expect to ever be in the same place as this character when I imagined the 'fake death' story two springs ago, but my life is in tatters after I made the wrong decision for all the right reasons. I struggle to read comments like "how could Steve do this?" and "I could never forgive him" without taking them very personally. Of course, I know that no reader means them that way, but it's still painful to write Sketch and Keeps the happy ending I know they deserve when me...? What the hell is gonna happen to me? Who do I return to after this death-of-the-life-I-had?

I don't know the answer.

I just wanted to say I'm sorry to those who are waiting for Dignity's very happy ending (which I promise it very much is happy). The narrator is just lost at the moment, stuck on all the stories and none of the stories at once, wondering which of the fiction she told herself led to this ending, and...truly unable to trust in 'hope' again.

[dreamofmysoul-tsc]

Things I loved about Chain of Thorns:

the peace each character feels at the end, how secure they are in themselves and their relationships

the Westminster Abbey battle (specifically James stabbing himself w Cortana, the gasp I gusped omg)

Alastair calling Thomas beautiful (multiple times 😌)

ARI 👏🏻 BRIDGESTOCK 👏🏻 MY BELOVED!!

Matthew slowly realizing he is deserving of happiness + his excitement to travel the world and see all its beauty :)

The portrayal of alcohol withdrawal and how tactfully Cassie handled addiction all throughout this series. My dad has been an alcoholic my whole life and I really can’t express enough how grateful I feel towards this series for portraying addiction in all its harsh realities while also making sure that readers understand addiction almost always stems from shame and self hatred. The kindness and gentleness expressed to Matthew and the sorrow, regret, and anger towards Elias are feelings I understand all too well. I’m rambling at this point but basically, thank you Cassie for portraying alcoholics as more than just deadbeats. Thank you for giving them dignity and humanity and thank you thank you thank you for portraying an addict that is not “fixed” by their love interest or their friends and family, but heals because they want too and because they genuinely believe they deserve it. I can’t explain how much that means to me.

Grace. Was pleasantly surprised by her character arc

JAMES HERONDALE MY BELOVED, IF JAMES HERONDALE HAS 1000 FANS I AM ONE OF THEM, IF JAMES HERONDALE HAS 1 FAN, ITS ME, IF JAMES HERONDALE HAS 0 FANS, I AM DEAD

Every scene with Lilith is always so fun but so terrifying

Alastair calling Thomas “my Thomas” no one speak to me

Belial basically being smote down by God at the end???? Is there a god in this universe?? Will we see him in TWP? Final battle between Heaven and Hell??? Omg

so is Cassie implying that Esme Hardcastle’s family tree she’s working on is the one from CP2? And the reason why it’s so fucked is because she was just making stuff up?? Because if so, that’s hysterical

James pointing his pistol at Lilith and going “try me.” Bitch, the way I just about fainted

JAMES HEALING MATTHEW IN EDOM W IRATZES BASICALLY THROUGH FORCE OF WILL AND SUCCEEDING, LIKE WHAT KIND OF BLACKSTAIRS SHIT IS THIS-

Manifesting a short story collection of Matthew on his voyage

Things I really did not like about Chain of Thorns:

How quick Christopher’s death was and how no one seemed to really feel effected by it?? Like we didn’t even see his parents grieving?? At first I boiled it down to, well, they’re in the heat of battle and Prince of Hell BS so they probably don’t really have time to grieve but even after all that ended, we just kinda…glossed over it? The most sentimental moment we got was Grace hearing his ghost and even then, it seemed mostly for plot

Matthew and James not having their own little moment in the epilogue but that may just be me because honestly I could read a whole book of James and Matthew’s little moments and be completely happy

Lack of Magnus. Also the lack of Magnus walking in on a couple making out. What kinda finale is it without Magnus walking in on a couple in a compromising position??

I love series traditions and I was a bit sad we didn’t get a wedding in the epilogue

As much as I love seeing everyone happy and at peace at the end, it felt so out of place compared to the other series’ epilogues. No foreshadowing to other series aside from Malcolm, no hints for TWP, no hints of what’s to come. I suppose the Coda sort of did that but I don’t know if the Belial we see in the Coda is talking about Jem’s interaction w him in GotSM or if it relates to TWP as well?? Idk, I just felt there were things to be desired

The lack of “Lucie? Lucie, is that you?” or “Cordelia? Cordelia, is that you?” (I know they weren’t parabatai until the next year but still)

I truly adore TLH, but one thing that has always felt disjointed to me is how…domestic? it all seems at first? Like, the actual battles and high stakes moments only happen within the last like 200 pages while the rest of it seems mostly roaming around and talking about feelings/being emotionally constipated (don’t get me wrong, I love both those things but I also love the action)

I wish Cassie would take more risks sometimes. Like as heartbreaking Livvy’s death was in LoS, that was one of the first times I remember thinking “wow, I genuinely don’t know if any of these characters are gonna be ok by the end of this” I’m hoping with TWP, I can also have some of that doubt back, because I like feeling like I don’t 100% know if a character is gonna survive this, you know? The fact that only one person died, a character that (to me) always seemed used as mostly a plot device, was a bit disappointing

Overall, I adore this series. I adore this cast and I honestly can’t believe it’s over ;-; I can’t wait for TWP, as much as I know that goodbye will I hurt even worse 😭

[saingirl101]

So thinking on the princesses situation a bit more I think the issue that has fandom divided is just simply getting stuck on the comparison to the Stepmother

To be clear I am not necessarily saying that the princesses are inherently evil. When I compare their plan to the stepmother they both come from understanding both the princesses and the stepmother are deeply hurt by their situations.

The stepmother is white hot anger at the world while the princesses are essentially deeply depressed and feel trapped by their stories.

I have deep empathy for the princesses situation. I spent decades severely depressed and had multiple anxiety disorders, and was passively suicidal.

But I am finally for the first time in my life between therapy and anti-anxiety meds 100% happy with me and my life. And a lot of that comes from understanding I can't wait on others to make my life better I have to take that step and lashing out at others for perceived slights and injustices isn't healthy.

And that i think is what trips people up. The princesses have a deep sadness and melancholy to them, this probably wasnt their first plan but multiple worlds of fighting the fairies and seeing the horribleness of their original stories has worn them down. And I can certaintly see the bleakness.

But they are comparable to te stepmother in the sense that destroying the whole world means everyone. Its means the little mice who tried to help cinderella, it means the random town folk and creatures of the world. In addition their hands are not clean, killing everyone who happens to disagree with you like the snow queen or even the sea witch who ultimately showed willingness to try and right some wrongs with Mira and understands that she lives and dies in hundred of worlds., its not a good practice.

I understand their desperation and their grief and sadness. but think about rosamund. Who learned the truth of her story. Who was essentially an accessory rather than a character in her own story, who is one version was raped in her sleep. She is fighting, has grown to love her friends, her new family. understands that although she may not be totally happy with her story understands that change is possible.

So ultimately its a tragic situation. but its essentially them ignoring what cindrella said to rosamund and ultimately their plan who do harm to others the same way the stepmother is. And snow white ignoring her own words about main character syndrome (as in hey just because you are hurt by your situation and deserve dignity in decisions about your life, that doesnt give you the right to take that choice away from others).

[principleofplenitude]

In the philosophical literature on dementia, scholars speak of a contest between the “then-self” before the disease and the “now-self” after it: between how a person with dementia seems to want to live and how she previously said she would have wanted to live. Many academic papers on the question begin in the same way: by telling the story of a woman named Margo, who was the subject of a 1991 article in The Journal of the American Medical Association (JAMA), by a physician named Andrew Firlik. Margo, according to the article, was 55 and had early-onset Alzheimer’s disease and couldn’t recognize anyone around her, but she was very happy. She spent her days painting and listening to music. She read mystery novels too: often the same book day after day, the mystery remaining mysterious because she would forget it. “Despite her illness, or maybe somehow because of it,” Firlik wrote, “Margo is undeniably one of the happiest people I have known.” A couple of years after the JAMA article was published, the philosopher and constitutional jurist Ronald Dworkin revisited the happy Margo in his 1993 book, “Life’s Dominion.” Imagine, he asked readers, that years ago, when she was fully competent, Margo had written a formal document explaining that if she ever developed Alzheimer’s disease, she should not be given lifesaving medical treatment. “Or even that in that event she should be killed as soon and as painlessly as possible?” What was an ethical doctor to do? Should he kill now-Margo, even though she was happy, because then-Margo would have wanted to be dead? In Dworkin’s view, it was then-Margo whose wishes deserved moral weight. In his book, he made a distinction between two kinds of interests: “experiential” and “critical.” An experiential interest was reactive and bodily: the pleasure of eating ice cream, say. A critical interest was much more cerebral; it reflected the character of a person and how she wanted her life to be lived. In the case of advanced Alzheimer’s disease, Dworkin argued, there is a danger that critical interests will be usurped by experiential ones. Still, it was the critical interests, previously stated, that deserved to be satisfied, because it was those interests that gave human life its meaning and its dignity — and even made it sacred, in a kind of secular way. A person was respected if she was helped to live out her chosen course, not if her life trajectory was allowed to be derailed by the amnesiac whims of her diseased self. Some philosophers have devoted themselves to reconsidering Margo. They accuse Dworkin of holding too limited a view of meaning. Couldn’t a life of tiny pleasures be meaningful, even if it wasn’t the product of some sophisticated life plan? Critics have asked why we should privilege the decisions of a person who effectively no longer exists over the expressed choices of the person who is sitting before us, here and now. On a practical level, what authority could the then-self possibly exert over the now-self? And while Dworkin’s theory might apply to those in the advanced stages of the disease, it speaks less to a majority of patients in the mild and moderate phases. The in-between Margos. Dworkin’s theory also distinguishes between selves in a way that strikes some critics as misguided. A person is not like Plutarch’s Ship of Theseus: replaced, plank by plank, over the course of her voyages, leaving those aboard to wonder if she is still the old ship or instead a new one — and, if she is a new one, when exactly she ceased to be the other. A person always is and is not who she used to be. Still, many adult children cling to an image of a parent’s then-self and work relentlessly to protect it. Adult children “tend to be confident leaning on the side of a Dworkin-type view,” says Matilda Carter, a postdoctoral fellow in philosophy at the University of Glasgow and a former dementia caregiver. They don’t want a parent’s confused, 11th-hour choices to “tarnish the legacy of her life beforehand.”

“A Story of Dementia” from New York Times

[gant-eyed-warden]

The Rite of the Lily

After the conclusion of the Railroad, Warden ended up taking Mr Transport to the Baroness at the Evenlode for a long list of reasons. Mr Pages had given them a single useful piece of advice, which was to remember that safety is not the same thing as happiness. So knowing the Masters are a hot mess, and knowing the High Wilderness is a pretty cruel place, Warden went with the Baroness, who at least seemed to want to make it happy and not just useful.

I thought for a long time on her parting line after you hand it over, in particular the reference to the Rite of the Lily. It's been an oblique reference in a few places I know but its actual function or purpose was a bit elided, at least until now.

Spoilers for City in Silver and Mr Transport.

The Baroness and the child exchange a glimmer of recognition when they finally see each other. "After Mr Spices and I parted ways, I did not expect to see this day." She takes the infant into her arms. Being free of it is a reminder of how shockingly heavy it was. "I assure you that this is for the best. The circumstances of the Masters are not ideal for the raising of a child. And familial affection is difficult, for their kind." Clinging to her shoulder, the infant burps – and a tiny fig wasp flies its way out of its mouth. Mr Transport seems unconcerned. It looks back at you with practised indifference. "There's no joy in remaining as you are. I trust that you understand this, by now. Perhaps one day you, too, will take up the lily." And with a smile, she retreats into the Magistracy – for a rite that you are not permitted to see.

In the Tracklayers' City we get a lot more information, not just about the Rite of the Lily but about the Baroness herself. We learn she has undergone the Rite of the Lily many, many times, in very exacting and expensive ways.

When you indicate that you are acquainted with the Solicitor-Baroness, she pulls a slim volume from the many that line her shelves. The pages are thin enough to see through, layered with infernal diagrams. "A record of her progress," says the Martagon Deviless. "We note what she changes in each Rite, the sigils required in each." The bottom page is complicated, contradictory, displaying many weaknesses. The next layer repeats only some of the sigils beneath, and the layer after that fewer still. For many consecutive lives, the subject's character is simplified into one that can properly serve its client. "The cost in candles was phenomenal," remarks the Martagon Deviless. "The Lilymire was less productive then; she was claiming almost the whole of its harvest, but none in Hell wished to refuse her, because of our agreement with the Creditor." Only a few layers ago, it seemed as though the Solicitor-Baroness had reached equilibrium; the changes from one sheet to the next were trivial indeed. But then, something almost wholly different was introduced. "A new spice in her character," says the Martagon Deviless slyly, and snaps the volume closed. "Now go," she says, tilting her head at you birdlike. "I've told you more than you deserve."

In Pilgrim's Citadel the devils bring a wax effigy of Furnace into town. Though the tracklayers by and large find this gross, the devils invite the tracklayers to write on the wax what of Furnace they would see kept, and what they would see left behind.

They do.

A tomb colonist – and at this distance you cannot be absolutely sure who it is – comes to consider the wax effigy, which is sculpted to include both the faces and the helmet of Furnace. Then it takes a metal pen and heats the nib in a candle flame, and writes deeply, scoring the candle with anger. Share the weight. Share the weight. Share the weight. You greedy fool.

Verity has a little to say about it. Mainly that this is yet another form of rebellion, this time rebellion of the soul.

"It offends the stars," she says. "It invites other creatures to cross the borders set by their own nature, and to share the dignities of Hell, if they have the skill. And it usually perturbs a soul in an interesting direction." Verity tells you then a story of Saint Trezigor, who was not always as he appeared in his late days. But he had a message for Hell, and rather than leave it silent, he transformed himself in order to become its messenger. His followers suffered the consequences, perhaps, but all transformations have a price.

(I should really play her ES.)

It is a very esoteric branch of the Red Science indeed that dares to treat the subject of souls. You work through proofs: proofs by contradiction, proofs imagining an infinity of souls and the smaller but still infinite set of souls altered by the Rite of the Lily. When you come to yourself, your cheek smudged with violant ink, you have arrived at an abstract of what draws devils to humans, and why both are necessary, and why the Great Chain is something more like a chain mail, link on link in all directions. No one will ever publish it. But perhaps that was not the point.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, however, having your soul winnowed into a different shape hurts.

The Rite does not require poisons. It is enough to inscribe the wax with a metal nib. Even the application of ink will do. But your method is more comprehensive, and more precisely targeted: ridding the Furnace-city of some residual flaws and vulnerabilities that arise from having been human. Old appetites, old scars, will be sloughed away or chemically burned out. When you leave the hall, you shut your ears to the hoarse screams. That too is a portion of the rite.

All transformations have a price.

The last dimension of the Rite of the Lily we see for now is with the Dying Tracklayer.

His disease is fatal, but the Martagon Deviless has let him hope that his death will not be wasted. There is a woman he wants to marry, but her faith is not his. She will not marry out of her religion; he cannot bring himself to convert. And so he hopes to use the Rite of the Lily, and return different from the Boatman. After he has died, he hopes he will be able to become one of her people.

This is the most devilish application of Kataleptic Toxicology: testing another, and finding the reagents within. Doctrine is irrelevant. The Dying Tracklayer is not a student of creeds. He has no beliefs that forbid him from following another's faith. He considers his beloved's practice homely and kind. He longs to walk down into a valley of people celebrating, and to take his place among them, singing their blessings with them from memory. His beloved's family offers this with an open hand. Come and be one of us, they say without restraint. Yet the warnings of the Church wake him in the night: that if he strays he will be repudiated by a god who might not exist. And here it is, the equation that he has not understood. Which is more sacred, the welcome or the threat? So advised, he knows what to write on the wax brow of his effigy.

[hapalopus]

Very discouraged that when I told my big sister I wanted to watch The Shape Of Water for the first time, she kept bringing up "fish sex", expecting me to feel disgusted and appalled. I couldn't talk about the main character being deaf because my sister kept mentioning the other thing, almost in a happy, hateful rant so that we could "hatefully talk" about it when I'd watched it :( Do you have nice things to say about the movie to make me feel motivated again?

It's one of my all time favorite movies and it pains me when people refuse to take it seriously. It's a labor of pure love, and that love shines through in every second of the movie. Del Toro had wanted to tell this story since the first time he watched Creature from the Black Lagoon as a child, and understood the creature as maligned for its appearance/nonhumanity, and not for any actual malicious traits it held. He saw the creature as a tragic character, but the people around him saw the movie as a horror story. So he decided to rework the story into something that would be understood as the romantic tale he saw.

And personally, as someone who has time and time again been stripped of my dignity and humanity due to autism, sexuality, and my gender identity… movies where nonhumans are respected as nonhuman (i.e., aren't transformed by the end) and are still treated with the same respect as their human counterparts are important beyond words. I've always gravitated towards werewolf media, but del Toro's monster movies are something else entirely. The werewolf is all rage and revenge. Del Toro's monsters can be tender, while still being themselves. Movies like The Shape of Water give me the encouragement I need to own my "monstrous" traits. The Shape of Water tells me that I don't need to meet a certain standard of what's "human enough" to deserve love and respect.

[occultopossum]

Gonna be talking about the owl house spoilers below

biiiig long ramble

One yes I very much cried very much. Two I am so so so happy with the ending and how satisfying a lot of the epilogue felt with their narrative. While yes there were some b plots/loose ends I would of loved to see wrapped up, its not the *point*. The ending and show wrapped up the stories for the main characters so well. I am really hoping we do get some sort of Q&A for the stuff they couldn't fit in for time/pacing of the story

Like would of liked a little more closure for Caleb and his story, but I get why that wasn't included cause making it about Hunter. Caleb is dead and Hunter being his own person and not a remnant of him. So narratively it does make sense.

I looove love love that Odalia was handled the way she was. That there was no excuse, no tragedy, or way to try to make her redeemable. No 'i was like this because of x'. No her kids got to go *presumably* no contact. No hint of her being in their lives or trying to reconcile cause she's family. (and darius/alador dispelling that even more)

That alador is working on it and each of the blight kids have lil homages to him, and the touches on his belt with each of their symbols. Live for Eberwolf and Hunter getting to talk about wolfs fits so well,

How overwhelmingly queer the ending was with found family, and acceptance and just how many queer relationships and identities were shown unambiguously and how I know that would not even be something I couldn't of imagined seeing 10 years ago.

That so so many of the tropes that kinda sour an end were so nicely side stepped

not everyone deserving forgiveness

making it clear rebuilding took a lot of time

not having to choose between found family and birth family

while luz lost her powers she adapted and found alternatives

that Eda/Lilith were never 'cured' of the curses in the end, and stayed a part of them/living with it *same for eda's arm there wasn't a 'magic' fix'.

god that they didn't kill off collector for dramatic/sacrifice and acknowledge just a child and needs to learn/grow

no redeeming belos or giving him dignity/letting him turn into a martyr *and that epilogue touch of Lilith w/ the library showing they're reclaiming the history/narrative of the boiling isles

and no 'chosen one' luz earned it cause she chose it and worked for it not was destined

Lil touches I've would loved to see/or hoped get I get some answers on but get why it wasn't touched on in the ending (pacing and they weren't essential characters)

the coven heads palisman (saw raine had theirs)

would of loved to see how hooty and eda met or lil more hooty in the end since was there w/ the core group

would of just loved to see what happened to the rest of the coven heads, just cause I thought some of em were super neat (but thats my affinity to bg characters)

the hopes to aid the witches that were petrified (But def v non essential to the finale but shows hopefully w/ being able to remove the sigils) but obs the ending still showing lots of things changing and still healing even after 4 years

I feel like if things weren't cut so short would of gotten to see a lot more expansion on Raine, Collector, and Vee . Since the lil photos def feel like stuff they wanted to have more time for

(probs why some of their plot lines seemed a lil hastily in collector and raines)

Like I wish there would be more in that setting but kinda feels like thats a 0 chance with Dana leaving disney/how they treated the show. I wish creators had any way to keep their ips then it falling into a cooperate vault forever

like this just skims the feelings i have about it (titan luz was so good and the animation was amazing)

[sludgewolf]

Uhh hello if your writing requests are open can I get some uh. Aradia megido <3 shy!fem!rustblood!troll!reader bits/scenarios/whatever with a little fluff and a little angst (I especially have a soft spot for whump or whatever its called)

Sorry for taking so long, but this went out of control so I had to split it up in two parts, this is the sadder one but it does have a happy ending, I hope you like it

Warning: self hate/ loathing, spiraling, use of "shit blood" as a derrogatory term

Disclaimer: do not copy, repost, take or feed to AI or NFTs anything I post

Masterlist

Aradia x Shy!Fem!Rustblood!Reader pt1

angst no comfort + some whump

Aradia isn't the most perceptive trolls, she already has difficulty with focusing on things that aren't of her immediate special interests and now with the voices of the dead that have recently started whispering in her ears it made it all the harder on her.

That plus her still recoveing from your last escapede, and on top of that you avoiding her like the plague didn't help in the slightest. But she did make an effort to talk to you whenever she could find you, coming to see you even long after her nugbone had healed, asking you about your own broken thoratic struts that you didn't notice at the time because you were so worried about her well being to take care of yourself.

Still, when she did come you could never quite look her in the eye, giving her a half assed excuse and hiding back into your resprite block.

Your face burning up and you feeling the phantom pain from your not fully healed bones on your side, but this was better than facing the facts head on.

She hated you, she had to, you were so sure of that as your lusus was sure that the one week old carcass she brought back was still edible.

So you kept pushing her away trying and trying to avoid letting her say it to your face. Knowing it already hurt, hearing it from her would just break you. But keeping your distance didn't keep you frim falling more and more for her, at the same, it broke your heart bit by bit

At this point you doubt anything you could have done would've saved it.

Not long after you got to move without feeling much pain you took to walking along the wastelands you called a home, this went on for almost two dark seasons. This night wasn't any different, you walked and walked getting so lost in thought you didn't notice you walked right up to Alternia's many beaches until tou felt the waves splashing your ankles and it's cold permeating you carapace.

You stare out at the sea, watching it as if you've never seen it before, witnessing it's power and magnitude, you forget about yourself again. Your mind letting go of all your self loathing for a moment and spiraling into someting much more existential.

Unfortunately this lasts just enough for you to jump at the sudden noise of two fast approaching voices.

Voices you knew way to well, voices that belonged to - shit Feferi and Aradia!

Are they in a date? It has to be! Right??

They're here being all cute, laughing and walking alone at the beach TOGETHER

Of course Aradia would go out with the heiress, that's what she deserves, someone that can treat her like the absolutely unhinged - archeology loving- troll that she is!

and not another shit blood lik-

You snap yourself out of it, hearing their steps coming closer and closer, self hate can wait until you're out of here.

You all but book it from there trying to avoid them but royally failing at that.

They easily see you running on the barren beach and call you over.

Aradia's voice calling your name is like a siren song that freezes you in place , you turn to them, feigning a smile and feeling you face burn with embarassment.

You pretend nothing happened and wave hi to the pair, You pretend nothing happened and make small talk, You pretend nothing happened and make up yet another half assed excuse and throwing what's left of your dignity you run from them.

All the while your ears ring with the sound of your blood in your ears, your thoratic struts ache as you hyperventilate and your eyes sting with unshed tears.

You should've known better than to fall in love with Aradia.

You should've known better than to even dream that you'd ever have any chance with her.

[kuranalex]

say 5 FL that you hate/love the most and the same for ML (hate/love) and why

your 10 favorite manga/anime ever and why?

I will answer you in two parts because this will be long and difficult:

Ok, here we go: my top five of heroines

1, my undisputed number one is JUMI (That Summer) I really love her, she is perfect, honest, strong, sweet etc in a very realistic way, i really think she is the best built character I've ever seen, don't get me wrong she is not the typical manga heroine she is on another level.

2. Touma Kazusa (WA2) she is a little more cliché unlike Jumi, but I still love her, I like that she always knew how to keep her dignity, she was loved, but she made a very realistic decision and she is so incredibly talented and I love how the writer reaffirm it over and over again. She is very loyal to me, and although he understands Setsuna, he always says what she thinks, and although I suffer a lot bc the ending, I am happy because they loved each other.

3. Charlotte Eleonor She is a very coherent character, she is always cold, but straight the point and loyal. I like the way she realizes that she is in love for the first time, but she is not the typical corny one, she is incredible, and I love her relationship with Jeffrey

4. Eba Yuzi (Kimi no iru machi) This is one of my favorite mangas, I've read it a thousand times, and I don't know, I like that despite everything she becomes more honest with what she feels and goes for it no matter what, she's sexy and pretty.

5. An Hao (Bringing the Nation's Husband Home) and Chizuru (Hakuoki) there is a tie, I like both, I love both stories, I have read the manga a million times and I have also seen the Hakuoki anime another million times.

my 5 most hated girls:

Misa (Death note) This woman lacks intelligence and dignity, she is the epitome of the ridiculous.

Sekai (school days) this Fucking bitch...she doesn't deserve more, No words.

Rui ( Domestic no Kanojo) I can't stand this woman, I hate her, she is so easier than the table of one, she's a treacherous bitch, always as a lapdog behind that boy.

Nana Hachi (Nana) This girl is so unbearable, she represents everything I hate in a woman, many people justify her by saying she is immature and she only wants to be loved, she is indecisive, cowardly, spoiled, cheesy like no one else, incapable of being loyal, not even with Nana whom she claims to love till death, she is jealous freak and a crybaby unable to face life without a man by her side (I'm sorry eternal, but I can't stand her)

Taiga Aisaka I can't stand how scandalous this girl is, Toradora is one of the worst things I've started to see, but both leading roles are unbearable for me

Hina (domestic no Kanojo) Hina, in the first 100 chapters she was one of my favorite heroines, but then the mangaka blurred her so much that I found her pathetic. The ending of this manga along with its development is the most awful thing I've seen in a very long time.

the second part is more difficult because there are too many boys that I love.