#SEBASTIAN & ASH / i will play my bloody part !

[sallowsdiary]

If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s losing—especially to Gryffindors. But today, fate had the audacity to make me suffer the ultimate humiliation: I lost a bet to Garreth Weasley. Yes, that Garreth Weasley. The one who thinks exploding potions are a perfectly acceptable pastime.

It all started innocently enough. I was lounging in the common room, minding my own business (and by that, I mean plotting how to “accidentally” release a batch of Hiccough Sweets into the Gryffindor table at dinner), when Garreth swaggered over with that ridiculous grin of his. He bet me that he could create a self-stirring cauldron that would brew a perfect potion without any assistance. I, naturally, scoffed at the idea. I mean, this is the same boy who once turned a simple cleaning charm into a miniature hurricane in Potions class.

But no, I had to open my big mouth and say, “If you can manage that without setting yourself on fire, I’ll wear a Gryffindor scarf for an entire day.”

Well, guess what? He did it. Somehow, against all odds (and possibly by sheer accident), Garreth managed to create this infernal cauldron that not only brewed a flawless Elixir to Induce Euphoria but also played a jaunty little tune while it did so. I’m still convinced it was some form of accidental magic, but the fact remains that I lost the bet.

So today, I had to walk around Hogwarts draped in Gryffindor colors. Do you have any idea how many times I had to explain to people that, no, I hadn’t suddenly developed a passion for lions and courage? The looks I got! Even the Bloody Baron gave me a once-over like I’d suddenly grown a second head.

Ominis tried to cheer me up by suggesting that maybe red wasn’t so bad on me, but I think he was just trying to avoid another of my dramatic rants. Meanwhile, every Gryffindor I passed gave me that smug, infuriating grin that made me want to hex the lot of them. Even Professor Weasley couldn’t help but smirk when she saw me in her House’s scarf. I’m telling you, if looks could kill, the entire Gryffindor House would be nothing but a pile of ashes by now.

The worst part, though? Peeves got wind of the whole thing and decided to follow me around, singing an off-key version of the Gryffindor anthem. He even changed the lyrics to include my name and something about “Sebastian the Traitor.” By lunchtime, I was ready to strangle him with that cursed scarf.

But don’t think for a second that I’m going to let this slide. Oh no, I’m already plotting my revenge. I’ve got a few ideas up my sleeve that will make Garreth regret the day he ever thought it was a good idea to challenge me. Let’s just say that the next time he brews a potion, he might find a little surprise bubbling up in his cauldron—something that’ll make his hair turn a nice shade of Slytherin green.

Until then, I’m going to burn this scarf, scrub every last bit of red and gold from my memory, and reclaim my rightful place as the superior person that I am.

—Sebastian

[iicarians]

♪ - SebAsh ( @irrwicht )

sunlight - h*ozier

“ i had been lost to you, sunlight ... flew like a moth to you, sunlight. / each day you'd rise with me, know that i would gladly be the icarus to your certainty. / strap the wing to me, death trap clad happily ; with wax melted, i'd meet the sea under sunlight, sunlight, sunlight. ”

the heart never lies - m*cfly

“ some people fight, some people fall ... others pretend they don’t care at all. if you wanna fight, i’ll stand right beside you. / the day that you fall, i’ll be right behind you to pick up the pieces. / if you don’t believe me? just look into my eyes, because the heart never lies. ”

babel - m*umford & sons

“ press my nose up to the glass around your heart ; i should've known i was weaker from the start. / you'll build your walls, and i will play my bloody part to tear, tear them down ( well i’m gonna tear, tear them down ! ) ”

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

"Explorers raided tombs and paraded the remains of ancient monarchs and dynasties to their homes. Mummies were unwrapped at social affairs and examined—and it was such a popular pastime that tourism companies in Egypt sent such delights to European countries to satisfy their morbid curiosities and struggled to fuel the growing trend."

“So you see,” Sebastian continued, “There is a historical precedent for this sort of thing. I’m hardly the first businessman to notice the wasted resources just rotting away underground. Or stuffed into an urn, depending on customs and family sentiment.”

“There’s historical precedent for a lot of fucked up shit, Shaw. That doesn’t make it okay!” Pyro stared, aghast, at the website. “Does the Council know you’re doing this? They can’t possibly approve!”

“Are you going to run and tattle on me?” Sebastian sneered. “That doesn’t seem like you, Allerdyce, but you have become more of a conformist rule-follower in Krakoa, it seems. At any rate, some of the Council are aware of my side business. They have elected not to bring it to a vote in meetings, so presumably I am breaking no law of the island.”

“But….it’s wrong. It’s bloody grotesque is what it is!” Pyro exclaimed.

“Is it better or worse than burning people to death during a bank robbery, or as part of some half-baked political protest?”

“Oh, give me a fucking break, Shaw!” Pyro snapped. “I know I’ve done some bad things – “

“Some bad things. What an adorable generalization, ducking out of all serious responsibility – “

“I know I’ve killed people, okay?” Not quite as many as some X-Men wanted to pretend, though. He mostly went for guards, police officers and soldiers, who, as far as Pyro was concerned, had it fucking coming. He hadn’t wanted to kill people to rob a bank, and there was never a need to if the civilians were smart enough to stay well back.

“But killing people doesn’t mean I can’t draw any moral lines, ever,” Pyro continued. “And I’m drawin’ a line right here. This is not okay.”

“Why not? Who does it hurt, really?”

“Well, surely the people whose bodies are getting rented out to sickos! No one would want that.” Pyro wasn’t sure he could articulate the sick churning in the pit of his stomach. It was something that went beyond logic, just a deep sense of disgust that seemed to well up from the center of his being. He was an open-minded fellow, he was willing to play fast and loose with a few morals, but surely some things were just….wrong. Right?

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them,” Sebastian said, waving a hand dismissively. “And apparently X-Factor is running some very interesting experiments with discarded mutant corpses over in their appropriately named “Boneyard.” And I’m quite confident that Sinister is probably churning out clones in his little lab, no matter how he might deny it. So whats the harm in my business?”

“Just because other people are doing it doesn’t make it okay! It’s like a….desecration, isn’t it?” Perhaps there was some of his Gran’s staunch Catholicism lurking under the surface, despite Pyro’s current status as…well, not an atheist, exactly, more like an agnostic who didn’t want to think about things too hard. He had to admit, a childhood of Mass and Confession and Hail Marys really got under your skin, no matter how long ago you walked away from the church.

“All this fuss over discarded meat,” Sebastian shrugged. “That’s all it really is when you remove religion and sentiment from the equation. Really, Allerdyce, I’m surprised at your squeamishness.”

“Are you really okay with it, then?” Pyro asked. “Letting some human fuck a mutant corpse? That’s what they’re doing it, isn’t it?”

“Not necessarily. I believe that’s the most common activity, but a few people want to cook and eat choice pieces.”

“Oh, that’s perfectly all right, then.” Pyro’s words were so heavy with sarcasm, they practically thudded onto the floor.

“Understand, Allerdyce, I find all this personally distasteful. I am disgusted by the idea of necrophilia, and even cannabalsim. But I see no reason to deny others, if there is money to be made. The ‘sickos’ will pay top dollar for discrete fulfillment of their taboo desires.”

“But do you really want to be putting mutant corpses in human hands? Haven’t they got scientists trying to study us or clone us or whatever? Put our DNA in Sentinels to make super-weapons?”

Sebastian laughed heartily. “Really, I didn’t think you were so naïve. Mutants have been in the public eye for several decades. The various governments of the world have been capturing mutant test subjects for a very long time. There are hundreds of mutants buried in graveyards and millions in the heavy layer of ash that still covers Genosha. If some enterprising human scientist wants mutant DNA, it would be very, very easy to lay hands on it. In fact, your own corpse is probably preserved in a government lab somewhere. In other words, there’s no point in closing the barn door at this point. The horses are long gone.”

Pyro couldn’t resist a full-body shudder at the thought. He knew, deep down, that his body was probably stuck in a metal drawer somewhere, or cut into chunks sitting in labelled glass jars. The US government had probably been interested in him as a Legacy Virus victim, back before the cure. It shouldn’t matter, but somehow, it did.

“And the bodies are only available for a limited amount of time, at any rate,” Sebastian continued. “Aside from the obvious natural impermanence of a corpse, I’ve had Sinister inject the bodies with a kind of “kill switch.” After five days, the corpse will dissolve, leaving no trace behind. The humans are only paying to rent, after all.”

“But wait…..” Pyro ventured. “What gives you the right to sell other people’s bodies? Shouldn’t they be the ones to profit off that?”

“What gives people the right to collect discarded trash?” Sebastian said, spreading his arms wide. “Would you begrudge the little old lady collecting aluminum cans for a few pennies from a recycling center? Or the struggling student who takes a sofa from the side of the road? That’s all these corpses are. Trash. Their previous owners have shiny new bodies – bodies gifted to them by Krakoa and the Five, by the way – and left no instructions as to disposal. I don’t use bodies from people who requested to be cremated, or some kind of ritual burial. Just bodies have have been carelessly tossed aside, by people who clearly don’t care.”

“Oh, well I’m sure you’ll be happy to explain that to everyone else, then,” Pyro said. “I’m sure they’ll all be totally understanding.” He realized a moment later, with a nervous twinge, that threatening to tell on the unscrupulous businessman while you were sitting alone in his massive castle and no one else knew where you were was a very stupid thing to do. Fuck. He should have at least claimed to have evidence left with a trusted friend or something, but he’d only just stumbled across this, while exploring the so-called “dark web.” Maybe he could bluff his way out of this.

“I told you, some Council members are already well aware,” Sebastian said, sitting back and regarding Pyro across steepled fingers. “I don’t think you’d find those in authority quite as willing to turn on me as you imagine, Allerdyce. In fact, it’s entirely possible that any attempt to inform the public will lead to a hasty mind-wipe for you.”

“I’ve got proof. I left it all on a flash drive with……” Freddy? Dominic? Mystique? “….a friend,” he finished, not wanting to actually put anyone else in the crosshairs. Hell, Mystique might even know about this. He’d like to think better of her, but she always had schemes within schemes going. He wondered which telepath on the Council might be in on this. Was Sinister a telepath? That arrogant piece of shit Exodus? He seemed too high-minded to approve, but that mission in the Savage Land had shown Pyro that Exodus did not give a single fuck about mutants that he considered weak or “unworthy.” Frost? Even Xavier? Pyro had never trusted that creepy bastard. Something about him had always seemed too good to be true.

Sebastian laughed again. “Oh, you think I’m going to kill you? That’s cute. Allerdyce, you are not in some ridiculous detective story. I am a practical man, and despite your bleating about morals, I know you are, too. I am willing to make you an offer. It’s an easy job. All you have to do is ‘keep mum,’ as they say.” Sebastian wrote a number down on a piece of paper, and slid it across the table.

It was, in fact, a very nice number. Enough to make some of Pyro’s disgust quickly fall away.

“After all, why shouldn’t you enjoy the same kind of luxury experienced by Krakoa’s elite? You serve aboard the Marauder, and you’re obviously on the lowest rung of the crew. None of the power and privilege weilded by the X-Men, none of the wealth bestowed by birth on Christian Frost, my own son, and the Von Struckers. And you do significantly more work than for the Hellfire Trading Company than those spoiled idiots. Why not take a little something for yourself?”

Pyro’s mind whirled. Of course, taking the money now would mean he was “in it,” so to speak. And if the secret got out, he’d probably be implicated along with Shaw, at least in the eys of his fellow mutants. Which would hurt a bit, after all his heroics with the Marauders. He was starting to feel, at least a little bit, like a good guy.

But on the other hand, if Sebastian was telling the truth, and some of the Council already knew, trying to tattle would just get him in the shit. It was all well and good to have movies about heroic whistle-blowers, but in the real world, they got slandered, ruined, and sometimes murdered. No one would stand up for a relative nobody like Pyro, especially if Frost and Mystique already knew. At best he’d just get mind-wiped.

It would be safer to just walk away and keep his mouth shut. And if he was going to walk away anyhow, why not pick up a paycheck for it?

They were just corpses, right? What a resurrected mutant didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

And it didn’t seem to actually be breaking any Krakoan laws.

And it was a lot of money.

And Pyro really did like money.

It wasn’t like he was a proper journo anymore, was he? No need for integrity.

Pyro pushed the paper back across the table.

“You’ll need to add a zero to that number before I’ll even consider it,” he said. “And this is just for silence, understand? I’m not gonna be your employee, don’t start expecting me to fetch and carry.”

Sebastian grinned, making a mark on the paper, and held it his hand to shake.

“I knew you’d see sense. It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Allerdyce.”

OOC: I was going to make that sillier, but the more I thought about it…..Sebastian probably would bribe Pyro to shut up, and Pyro would probably just take the money. He’s trying to be “good,” but not that good. Also, no offense intended to Exodus. After the story in the Quicksilver min-series, when Pyro is working with Acolytes on a mission for a supposed Legacy Virus cure (which doesn’t exist), Pyro probably holds a serious grudge against him.

[irelise]

(high fantasy au ficlet)

i’m feeling a bit rusty with writing so i just whipped up something short and sweet...! part 1 of probably 2

based on this prompt

dnd campaign pitch: the king sends you to kill a dragon that’s been ravaging the lands but when you get there it turns out the dragon only has a price on it’s head because it has sensitive information about the king’s political scandals and it needs your help leaking them to the press

After the servants clear away the dishes, after Lord Shaw explains his reasons for summoning him in the first place, Charles only says: “The Grey King? A rather odd name for a dragon, that.” “But a fitting one.” Charles’ liege lord motions for a servant to refill their winecups. “Grey for the colour of its scales, grey for the ashes it leaves in his wake – or so the smallfolk report. It must be stopped.”

"You must know that I'm a poor choice for this, I've always believed that man and dragon-"

"Can live in harmony, yes." Shaw interrupts, looking bored. "I heard you the first twenty times. But you've heard what this beast has done. You still believe you can make peace?"

"Always," Charles says firmly, and Shaw laughs.

"Oh, dear Charles, that's why you're my favourite." The glint of greed in Shaw's eyes is nothing new, but as always, Charles elects to ignore it, taking a calm sip of his wine.

Shaw drinks as well. "Oh, fine then." He waves a careless hand. "I'll send someone else to deal with it."

"No, no, I'll be glad to handle the matter. I just think resorting to killing right away is not the answer."

"What, you planning to talk it into submission?"

"There must be a reason for what it's doing. I'm going to find out what it is."

"It'll kill you." Shaw's eyes bore into him. "No, not physically, that would be a kindness. It'll turn your mind against itself. It'll turn you against us, you, my best knight. It'll make you its slave, is that what you want?"

***

On his second week of hard riding, Charles catches a glimpse of the dragon.

The sun hangs low in the sky, bathing the world in the orange-red glow of fire when, without warning, a swift shadow passes over Charles. Charles snaps his head up, eyes scanning the skies - there! Sunlight reflects off the dragon's wings, outstretched in flight. They gleam like sheets of burnished metal, darkly iridescent, a thousand different subdued colours of the rainbow shimmering across the iron-like span.

The dragon doesn't seem to be hostile. It's not burning and destroying, it's not even hunting; it simply is. It soars in long, lazy patterns, and Charles' breath catches at the sight of its beautiful, deadly splendor.

He watches it for a long time, an unnameable ache in his chest, until it disappears into the horizon.

***

"A big grey dragon? I've seen it a few times in the distance, but if it's been causing trouble, it's not hereabouts."

"Only problem we've had lately is from drakes, I've not heard anything about this Grey King of yours."

"I heard it lairs a few days west of here, but I've never seen the thing myself."

It's the same story no matter where he goes: nobody has ever seen the dragon up close, and nobody has ever had their land and animals and family razed to the ground. The dragon doesn't even take livestock, preferring to do its hunting elsewhere. Charles' own eyes confirm the story: the villages he passes are industrious but peaceful, their fields ripe and golden, ready for the harvest. The people are welcoming and their children play out in the open, in meadows dotted with wildflowers, not a single hint of fear to be seen. It is not the look of a region devastated by a dragon. Just what is Shaw playing at?

Then Charles comes upon the garrison.

It's the smell of burning that first attracts his notice. Then he sees the smoke, rising in grey clouds above the treetops. Instantly alert, Charles urges his horse into a faster trot.

When he comes to the end of the road, he's greeted with a scene of devastation. The stone walls of the garrison are scorched and blackened, the heavy gate of reinforced wood an unrecognizable heap of charred ashes.

Worst of all are the bodies piled up at the gate, soldiers cut down by fang and claw and flame as they fled for their lives. Useless, against a dragon. Charles scans the skies - there are still fires burning, the attack can't have been very long ago - but there's nothing, nothing except smoke.

Charles dismounts quickly, one hand on the hilt of his sword, the other moving in quick, precise gestures as he mutters the words of a shield spell. Not many have the mixture of innate talent and ironclad discipline necessary for the study of magic; he's one of the few battlemages serving under Shaw, and the strongest.

Perhaps too strong. Charles grimaces as his magic flares, fire-sparks whiting out his vision, but he's adept by now at wrestling his magic back under his control. Once his vision returns to normal, he starts forward cautiously, only stopping when he reaches the grisly pile of bodies. The garrison is a small one; it wouldn't be manned by any more than twenty soldiers, and almost half that number are here.

All those lives, snuffed out in an instant. Charles pushes back his sorrow and drops to one knee, critically examining the injuries: gashes, mainly, but not so large and deep that they would have come from one of those ancient, massive wyrms capable of slicing a man in half with a glancing blow. The dragon he's dealing with can't be much larger than a young adult, although of course dragon morphology can vary greatly...

Charles climbs back to both feet, heading deeper into the garrison. There are more bodies strewn on the ground, many of them clutching bloodied weapons; they must have landed a few good hits on the dragon. It wasn't enough to save them. Charles' heart sinks the longer he searches, not a single living soul to be found

Then he rounds a corner and he sees a wild-eyed soldier with his sword drawn, poised to thrust it through the chest of an unconscious figure lying on the ground.

Charles doesn't stop to think. "Fus!" A blast of concussive force leaps from his outstretched hand, slamming the soldier to the ground. Charles draws his own sword as he steps forward. "What's going on here?"

"Back off!" The soldier snarls, scrabbling for his sword. Charles kicks it further away. "He's working with the dragon! I've seen him skulking around these past few days, he-"

"He is an unarmed, unconscious man!" Charles crouches down next to him. To his surprise, the man's eyes are open, but glassy and unfocused. Blood stains the wooden floor under him, and Charles can see cruel lacerations across his chest.

But his clothing is strange; nothing like what the men of the garrison wear. And that face... There's something familiar about the sharp cheekbones, the glint of copper in his hair. Charles frowns, trying to place it, but his concentration is broken by a snarl from the soldier. He had pulled himself back to his feet and is now making another lunge for his sword, but Charles intercepts him easily, snatching the sword away from his fumbling grip.

"Enough of this," he says sternly. "My name is Charles Xavier, I'm one of the knights sworn to the service of Lord Sebastian Shaw. Just what is going on here?"

"I came back from patrol to find - this. I looked-" The soldier's voice cracks. "Everyone was dead. Except him. I told you, I've seen him! He's been spying on us! And now..."

It's a story full of gaping holes and tenuous connections - certainly not enough for Charles to order the execution of a defenseless man. "I know you're grieving and angry, but killing him now will be a mistake. There's too much we don't know. He may be an innocent man, as much of a victim of this attack as you are."

"You don't know what you're talking about," the man snarls, helpless fury contorting across his face. "All you high and mighty knights, you don't know-"

"I will take him back to the city," Charles interjects firmly. "We'll question him thoroughly, I promise you. Come with us. Your testimony will be invaluable."

"Fuck you." All at once, the fury leaves the soldier. He slumps against the wall. "Do what you want. You'll wake up to a knife in your back tonight, and I'll bury your body along with the rest."

***

The injured man goes quietly with Charles, docile as a lamb, his eyes still vacant and dazed. As much as his heart aches for him, Charles takes no chance: he binds the man's arms and searches him for weapons before he brings him away from the garrison.

"I have medical supplies in my saddlebag, but we'll ride back to the closest village to get you proper treatment. I'm afraid you'll have to stay with me for awhile, until we get all of this sorted out."

Charles is sure that the man hears him, but he gives no response, and the vacant look in his eyes doesn't fade. Shock? But no, there's something buzzing at the edges of Charles' magic-sense, a whisper that something isn't quite right... He directs the man to sit on the grass, carefully arranging him to rest against the trunk of a tree as he removes his shirt to clean and dress his wounds. They don't look like wounds that have come from a dragon's fangs or claws. If anything, they look like wounds inflicted by a blade.

"You saved me."

Charles starts, gaze flicking up to meet the stranger's pale eyes. The blankness has not entirely faded, but there's an intensity not present before.

"I would not condemn a man to death without knowing all the facts," Charles says. "Although now that you're lucid, I hope you can give me some answers. How are you feeling?"

"I've had worse before. I'll recover." The man grimaces. Charles can't place his accent - it's a mix of many things, some of them infuriatingly familiar, a fading memory he can't properly grasp. "Am I your prisoner?" He shrugs his bound arms.

"Unfortunately, yes, you were found under some rather suspicious circumstances." Charles gives him a small smile, wanting to show the man that he does not mean to treat him unkindly, despite his status. "May I have your name?"

"Erik. Erik Lehnsherr."

"Charles Xavier, a sworn knight under Lord Sebastian Shaw. I promise you, I will ensure you are treated fairly and with justice."

Rather than look comforted, Erik skewers him with a sharp look. "Shaw? Sebastian Shaw?"

"You must know of him, surely, these lands are under his rule. Are you a traveler?"

"You could say that."

Charles frown, giving the man's shoulder a brief squeeze. His skin is terribly cold and clammy. "I would advise you to be forthright in your answers. You're in a great deal of trouble, my friend."

Erik barks a sharp laugh. "Fine. Ask your questions."

"What were you doing at the garrison?"

"Attacking it, what else?"

Charles' composure fractures, and he stares at Erik in open shock. "...I'm sorry?" He manages. There are still bandages in his hands, and Erik is smiling at him, teeth bared, fierce and hungry yet without a shred of malice. If anything, he seems entertained.

"You heard me."

"I did - I'm sorry, I'm just very..." He shakes his head, knowing Erik is deliberately throwing him off-balance. "You were working with the dragon? You're admitting it openly?"

"Yes. Problem?"

"Many," Charles snaps, the broken, bloody corpses flashing in his memory. "All those men, Erik! Why?"

"It was justice," Erik growls. "I've heard of you before, Charles Xavier. Shaw's right hand, his keenest blade, his most powerful mage. He sent you to slay a dragon, didn't he?"

Charles watches him with warily. "He did, but killing it was not my intention."

"Good. Because he wants to meet you."

[whenyouarereadingabook]

Cari lettori e lettrici,

Scusate per l’attesa! Ma sapete com’è l’estate, periodo di cialtroneria..

Ecco qui la nostra recensione.

Queen of Air and Darkness. La Regina dell’Aria e delle Tenebre.

“We have a lot of allies,” Julian said.

Emma’s gaze slid down the beach toward Magnus and Alec. “This is going to be an important night,” she said. “And it’s being shared with us. That’s not about having allies. That’s about having friends. We have a lot of friends.”

She figured he’d make a teasing retort; instead, his face softened.

“You’re right,” he said. “I guess we do.”

Questo momento ci ha scaldato il cuore. Quando Julian ed Emma finalmente liberi di amarsi senza paure e senza ostacoli si rendono conto di quante persone sono state attratte dal loro intelletto e dalla loro forza, dal loro animo buono e coraggioso, che sono state loro vicine e li hanno aiutati a salvare il mondo ancora una volta. Perché per quanto possa essere banale, l’unione fa la forza e la diversità è un valore aggiunto (soprattutto quando si tratta di aprire Portali, cavalcare costellazioni su destrieri fatati o combattere in cima a un albero armati di fionda).

I personaggi hanno subito la crescita più significativa pur all’interno di un solo libro e ci siamo ritrovate a leggere di un ingegnosissimo Julian, pronto a parlare davanti ad una folla infinita come un vero leader, una coraggiosissima Emma, sebbene lo sia sempre stata solo tra queste pagine ci siamo rese conto quanto, un indissolubile trio, quello di Cristina-Mark-Kieran, in balia di un amore così struggente da volere distruggere qualsiasi insensato limite e confine pur di stare insieme; due giovani Shadowhunter sconvolti dal dolore, Kitty mi piace chiamarli, separati da sentimenti come perdita e orgoglio e un’unitissima famiglia Blackthorn nel senso molto largo del termine, più largo del cognome che li contraddistingue: parlo di Dru che con le sue parole ha ispirato tutti, del piccolo Tavvy, di Ty, Mark, Helen, Julian ma anche Emma, Cristina, Kieran, ALINE. Insomma i personaggi hanno brillato come le stelle più luminose del firmamento. Penso a come Kieran, il soave e dolce Kieran, abbia posto fine alla crudeltà del padre con un semplice colpo al collo inferto impugnando il segno d’amore che aveva donato al suo Mark, penso a come Julian abbia vendicato la sua Livvy con un sapiente movimento di spada nel corpo di Annabel, a come la stessa Livvy, solo più matura e dilaniata dalla sofferenza, abbia fondato una Resistenza in un mondo ormai destinato all’oblio, a come Emma abbia affrontato Sebastian Morgenstern, DI NUOVO, combattendo come una leonessa per tutto ciò a cui tiene, a come Mark sia rimasto al fianco del suo adorato Kieran, incoraggiandolo anche di fronte alla morte, a come Jaime e Diego abbiano protetto la loro Lady of Roses anche a costo della vita, a come Dru abbia salvato loro il culo, a come Diana sia riuscita a superare la sua paura di urlare al mondo chi è davvero.

E poi.. voglio parlare degli eroi senza tempo. Voglio parlare di Jace, Clary, Alec, Magnus, RAPHAEL SANTIAGITO, Tessa, Jem. Il “contorno” che non è affatto un contorno perché tutti loro anche in una saga che non è la loro bruciano come il fuoco celeste che alla fine, bene o male, riesce a trovare una soluzione a tutto.

Cassie ci regala un’altra avventura intensa, lunga, ricca fin dalle prime pagine. Che la prima parte del libro finisca con la morte del Re Unseelie è una bella sorpresa, così come la scelta di creare nel corso di questa trilogia un personaggio, Ash (che in questa trilogia è più vittima e aiutante che nemico) discendente diretto di Valentine Morgenstern, che si starà a tratti divertendo a tratti rivoltando nella tomba a causa dei geni fatati del nipotino.

Idea brillante che ci ha quasi accecate, così come l’idea di spedire Emma e Julian in un mondo parallelo (una conferma al concetto di multiverso che il nostro ultimo Peter Parker adorerebbe) che è finito nel peggior stato possibile di morte e distruzione, in cui Cassie ha avuto la possibilità di sfogarsi uccidendo perfino la protagonista assoluta di The Mortal Instruments. In cui ha fatto morire i Malec quasi come Romeo e Giulietta e ovviamente non ha risparmiato i Blackthorn.

La parte a Thule è grandiosa con le sue atmosfere cupe, colori sanguigni, incontri fatidici e conquistate vendette.

‘Lady Vengeance’ ci ha avvinte e deluse allo stesso tempo. La caotica battaglia, sicuramente non facile da gestire, è riuscita. La mancata resurrezione di Livvy è stata a dir poco straziante, considerate anche le conseguenze che ha avuto su Kit e Ty, nella mia mente già avviati verso una travolgente storia d’amore che però ha incontrato, giustamente, il muro di dolore e lutto di Tiberius. La confessione di Kit è stata inaspettata in quel momento, evidentemente anche per lui stesso e il risultato che ha portato al suo allontanamento ci ha lasciato, ben giocato, una tremenda voglia e aspettative per The Wicked Powers (la trilogia con protagonisti Ty e Kit programmata dopo TLH).

La parte deludente è stata il modo in cui si è deciso di risolvere il dilemma d’amore di Julian e Emma: troppo comodo ricorrere ancora una volta al fuoco celeste che, ricordiamo, ha in precedenza liberato Jem dallo stato di Fratello Silente e salvato Jace dal controllo di Sebastian. Una soluzione quindi forse troppo ideale, troppo clemente, considerate le alternative.

La ciliegina sulla torta è stata il matrimonio dei Malec. Credo di non aver mai letto una proposta di matrimonio più romantica e commovente.

Alla fine di questa trilogia Idris è persa ma Alexander Lightwood è il nuovo Console (sempre sia lodato) e Diego un possibile nuovo Inquisitore: si sta in una botte di ferro, se non fosse per la simpatica Regina Seelie. Ci fosse un giorno in cui si prende una vacanza dall’essere una stronza rompighiande seriale. Purtroppo però ce la dobbiamo tenere così e in più adesso abbiamo due Jace in circolazione, un po’ come sette Alec per Magnus.. anzi, forse un po’ più preoccupante. Insomma, The Wicked Powers è lontano ma siamo sicure che ci sarà da divertirsi..

This moment stroke us with warmth. When Emma and Julian, finally free to love each other without fear, realize how many people are attracted to their intellect and strength, to their gentle and brave spirit, how many have been close to them and have helped them save the world once again. It could be trivial but together we are stronger and diversity makes us even more so (especially when you have to open Portals, ride through constellations on fairy steeds or fight top of a tree with a sling).

The characters have grown the most in this one book and we found ourselves reading about an extraordinarily cunning Julian, ready to talk in front of such an infinite crowd like a true leader, a breathtakingly brave Emma, though she had always been only thanks to these pages we realized how much, an indissoluble trio, the Cristina-Mark-Kieran trio, swept away by such a heart wrenching love that they are ready to break any senseless limit or bound so that they can be together; two young Shadowhunters broken by grief, ‘Kitty’ I love to call them, separated by loss and pride and the most united Blackthorn family in the widest form of the term, even wider than that last name: we’re talking about Dru, whose words inspired everyone, about Tavvy, Ty, Mark, Helen, Julian but also Emma, Cristina, Kieran, ALINE. Well, I can confidently say these characters have shone like the brightest stars of the firmament. I’m thinking about Kieran, the disobliging and sweet Kieran, who put an end to his father’s cruelty with a single blow to the neck brandishing the gift he had given his beloved Mark, I’m thinking about how Julian avenged his Livvy with a masterly swing of his sword through Annabel’s body, about how the same Livvy, mature and torn by pain, built a Resistance in a doomed world, how Emma fought Sebastian Morgenstern, AGAIN, fighting like a lioness for everything she cares about, how Mark stick to his beloved Kieran’s side, encouraging him even in the face of death, how Jaime and Diego protected their Lady of Roses to the point of risking their lives, how Dru saved the above mentioned men’s asses, how Diana overcame her fear of screaming her true self to the world.

And then.. We want to talk about the timeless heroes. We want to talk about Jace, Clary, Alec, Magnus, RAPHAEL SANTIAGITO, Tessa, Jem. The ‘side dish’ which is not a side dish at all because all of them, even in a trilogy that isn’t their own, burn like heavenly fire that, one way or another, solves everything. Cassie gifts us with another long, intense, rich adventure from the very first page.

The first part of the book that ends with the death of the Unseelie King is as surprising as Ash’s origins and future role he’ll play in the story, considering the one he had in this trilogy, victim and helper. Surprising is his direct parentage with Valentine Morgenstern, who’s probably having a lot of fun and revolting in his own grave at the same time because of his nephew’s fey genes.

Another brilliant idea that almost blinded us was sending Emma and Julian in a parallel world (a confirmation of the multiverse concept that our latest Peter Parker would love) that’s full of death and destruction, which Cassie got the chance to take it out on by killing The Mortal Instruments’ absolute protagonist and many others. Where she killed Magnus and Alec almost like Shakespeare killed Romeo and Juliet and obviously didn’t spare the whole Blackthorn family.

‘Thule’ is magnificent with its dark atmosphere, bloody colours, fateful encounters and achieved revenge.

‘Lady Vengeance’ won us over and disappointed us at the same time. The chaotic battle, surely not easy to write, is successful. Livvy’s missed resurrection (and ghost summon) is definitely painful and heartbreaking, also considering the consequences it had on Kit and Ty, whose relationship in my mind was already headed toward a passionate love story that slammed, fairly, against Tiberius’ wall of grief and pain. Kit’s confession was unexpected in that moment, even form himself apparently and the result was bringing them apart, well played, because now we are even more eager to read The Wicked Powers (the trilogy about Kit and Ty scheduled to come out after TLH).

The disappointing part in ‘Lady Vengeance’ was the way Emma and Julian’s love dilemma was resolved: too convenient resorting once again to the heavenly fire that previously, a reminder, freed Jem from the Brotherhood and Jace from Sebastian’s mind control. A solution that was maybe too ideal, too perfect, too lenient to satisfy us, considering the other terrible options.

Malec’s wedding was the cherry on top. The long awaited proposal moved us and surprised us, so romantic, so perfect! It probably was one of the most celebrated moment in the Shadowhunters fandom.

At the end of this addictive trilogy, Idris is lost But Alexander Lightwood is the new Consul (always be praised) and Diego a possible new Inquisitor: we are sitting pretty, free and clear if it wasn’t for the (nice) Seelie Queen. May a day come when she finally goes on vacation from being a total pain in the acorn bitch. Unfortunately this fact won’t change very soon and we also have two Jace to think about, that’s basically like for Magnus having seven Alec... maybe a bit more troubling.

In any case, The Wicked Powers is still far away but we’re sure the fun won’t lack.

Linette & KJM

[iicarians]

@irrwicht​ sent: “ [consent is sexy] - SebAsh                                 (your inbox still hates me) ”

        there’s something in sebastian that comes alive under ash’s touch, as if something had been laying dormant in his chest, waiting for the other to come along and breath life into it. and even though the other male is quite literally on top of him, he still surges forwards, trying to close any gaps he can find between the pair of them. he’s drowning in his mouth, lips, tongue, hands ... every point of contact between them is enough to set sebastian on fire, yet he still wants more. the hand tangled in ash’s hair releases itself to slide down the other’s shoulders and drag its way down a solid chest, finally coming to a stop as it reaches the bottom hem of his shirt. he grips fabric in his hand, twisting between clenched fingers before he pulls back enough to assess ash’s expression ; to see if he wants this too. “ yes or no? ” he asks, hands and body stilling as he waits for a response, save for the quiet rise and fall of his chest as he tries to recover his breath. over time he’s learned of certain lines in the other male ... sometimes they’re obvious to spot, and other times he has to be looking carefully to find it. but he maps them out in his mind all the same, taking each piece and tucking it carefully away to look out for.

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

Claudine: ""See, if the stress and anger builds up in you too much, your reason can’t contain the rage building inside you."

Pyro laughed, but it came out a little more strained than he intended.  “It was just Monopoly, Claudine, none of us can keep our cool during Monopoloy. There’s a reason Haven keeps banning the game.”  The game was re-banned as of ten minutes ago, since Pyro had turned their game board to ash. Again.

Claudine looked unimpressed.  “So, that little blow-up back there was entirely about Monopoly? It had nothing to do with the mission this morning?”

“What, are you a psychologist now or something? Gonna diagnose me with ‘anger issues’?” Pyro scoffed, complete with sarcastic air quotes.  “Sometimes setting Monopoly on fire is just setting Monopoly on fire.  I’m hardly the only one who destroys the board.”  

“No, you’re not,” Claudine admitted, still gazing at him with an unfathomable expression.  “But you do lose your cool quite a bit.  Especially around Shaw.”

“Well, if he’d stop being such a condescending piece of shit, maybe I wouldn’t ‘lose my cool’ so much!”  Pyro snapped, his voice rising along with a heat in his chest that had been lingering there since the game.  Or possibly all day.  

“Sebastian is…pretty terrible,” Claudine said.  “But we’ve all learned to deal with it.  It doesn’t really help when you nearly set the boat on fire.”

“My fire is always under complete control,” Pyro insisted, letting a small firey Chinese dragon, with detailed scales and whiskers, swoop around the deck before disappating.  “And don’t act like you have to deal with what I have to deal with.  He singles me out!”

“Your fire has scorched a few things in my lab in the past, so either you meant to do that,” she scowled at him meaningfully, “Or sometimes you get careless.  Either way, there are better ways to deal with Shaw than blowing up at inconvenient times.”

“Well, what the hell am I expected to do, then?” Pyro said.  Or rather, yelled.  He realized too late that he was yelling now.  “That snobby fucker thinks I’m dirt under his heel!  Am I supposed to just roll over and show my belly like a dog?!  He hates the way I talk, the way I dress, the way I fight.  He hates the fact that I’m fucking his son, whom he never bothered to be a proper father for in the first place!  He never lets up!  Never misses a bloody chance to insult me!  And I’m meant to just take it, then?”  

“No, you’re not.  I’m just saying….time and place.”

“Well, if I can’t lose my temper during Monopoly, when can I lose it?”  Pyro demanded.  “That game was practically invented to drive families apart.”

“You could just make elaborate fire-creations and send them into the sea,  We’re surrounded by water, and I know you have the control for that.”

“Eh…..it’s not as satisfying as watching something burn,” Pyro admitted.  That was part of it.  The thrill of destruction, a malicious glee in watching something turn to ash.  Just like punching a pillow wasn’t nearly as satisfying as smashing a plate…..or punching a face.  He supposed he could just start producing fire sculptures of Sebastian fucking a donkey whenever the man condescended to him.  

“You know he’s mostly wrong about you, right?” Claudine said after a moment.  “You’re actually fairly intelligent, regardless of how you often act.  You’ve made it clear that you’re well-read.  Sophistication is entirely subjective, just a matter of personal taste and artificial class structure.  And manners are basically just culturally determined social role-playing.  I don’t put that much stock in them.”  

“Thanks luv,” Pyro said, starting to relax a bit. “I mean, of course I know that, but it’s nice to hear – “

He paused.

“Wait, what do you mean mostly wrong?”