purecbdoilireland-blog

[acourtofbooksandshadows]

Alliance Maker - Chapter 7

Summary: After waking up from a nightmare you decide to take a trip to the kitchen. You run into someone unexpected.

Pairing: Slow burn!Azriel x Afab!Reader

Warnings: Torture, poison, rape, swearing, knife's, whips, chains, getting sick, blood, overall men being absolutely disgusting.

Word count: 1522

Masterlist Series Masterlist

“Get off me.” The words left your mouth in a scream. You thrashed against the chains that held you. The laughs from the men surrounding you had bile rising in your throat. You jerked your head forward, snapping your teeth at the man in front of you. His fingers halted in their movement between your breasts momentarily. 

“Shut your fucking mouth before I do it for you.” His breath was atrocious as he spoke, it smelled of something rotten. His hand moved away from your skin for just a moment only for a knife to be placed within it. 

“No, get the fuck away from me.” Your voice was more frantic this time. The chains groaned as you yanked on them. The man's eyes narrowed on you. 

“Give me the lenroot.” fear struck every part of your body at the mention of the paralytic. The thought of not being able to fight against them had the bile from earlier rising again, this time it actually coming up into your mouth. But you quickly swallowed it, knowing if they saw you get sick it would only make what they were going to do to you worse. Lenroot was something they used on you frequently, it left you unable to move but still able to feel everything they did to you.

The root was brought up to your mouth but you clenched your teeth together tightly refusing to open your mouth. He tutted you quietly, before looking to his right. The same man that handed him the knife and the lenroot stepped up to you. Tears started to steadily work their way down your cheeks as he pried your mouth open. 

Then the man in front of you was shoving the root into your mouth. You gagged at the taste of it, trying desperately not to swallow it. Though you knew that just the act of your tongue touching it was enough to paralyze you for a few hours. It had happened so many times before so you knew what to expect. Your body grew slack against the iron chains around your wrists connected to the ceiling above you. 

You watched as they took turns with you. Some dragged knives along your skin, leaving small trails of blood anywhere they desired. Then some of them had their way with you. They had left you naked since they brought you here. Deciding the clothes were just too much of an inconvenience to them. That left you in a constant state of freezing. The man that shoved the lenroot into your mouth came back with a whip in hand and you knew the pain would be too much for you to handle. You were right because with the first lash against your stomach you were losing consciousness. 

You awoke with a sob, a cold sensation was weaving through your hair. A soothing touch was smoothing along your cheeks. As the tears tracked down your skin they were wiped away just as quickly. You let out a shudder at the not yet familiar feeling. Bringing a hand up to your face a black tendril wrapped around your scared skin and down to your wrist. You glanced around the room and didn’t see any more of them or the spymaster they belonged to. 

“Will you come with me to the kitchen?” You didn’t wait for a response, not that you necessarily thought they could respond. There were slippers waiting for you as you dragged your legs out of the warmth of the blankets. You stood and moved out of the room slowly. Deciding to take your time and savor the emptiness of the house. The walk to the kitchen was easy as you remembered the tour Nesta and Emerie gave you earlier. 

The shadows had both worked their way down to your hands at this point, dancing across the skin slowly. The feeling of them soothed you as your mind kept replaying the nightmare from just moments earlier. The memory was one you were desperate to forget. 

As you rounded the kitchen you were slightly startled. It seemed to be your luck to run into males in the room. But this one wasn’t at all like the red haired one before. His hazel eyes pierced through you as he took in your form. His eyes went to your hands and you winced. But as your eyes moved down to them you noticed that the shadows had wrapped around them much like the fingerless gloves you typically adorned. A smile came to rest upon your lips at the action. 

Then your eyes came back up to their owner and you gulped. You didn’t think that he would harm you. But you knew of his reputation as a fierce protector. His court and the people within it came above all else. And to him you were an unknown threat, an anomaly he was struggling to figure out. He had sent shadows out to every corner and crevice of the land and yet they came back with nothing. It worried him immensely, but with the liking his shadows had taken to you he wasn’t sure they were being truthful in their discoveries. 

He moved to the sink with the plate, cup and silverware he was just using. He grabbed a sponge and soap and started to wash them. You took the moment to take him in. He was wearing loose pajama pants much like your own. His hair was wet and you could see the drops of water slowly running down his neck and to his naked chest and torso. You took in the lines and curves and swirls of the tattoos marking his skin. Your body fought against itself. A part of you was desperate to wipe away the trail of water being left on his skin, to feel the scars you could see against your fingertips. The other part was desperate to get away from him, to flee from the doorway you were standing in and never look back. 

You shook the thoughts from your head and moved around the large island placed in the middle of the room. You didn’t miss the way Azriel tensed, readying himself for an attack that wouldn’t come. The black and gray marbled countertop was filled with different fruits and vegetables. You took a moment to decide on what you wanted and started on a cup of tea. As the water boiled you reached for an orange and started to peel it. The shadows started to help you. Pulling on the peel as you worked on the pith. 

The glass that Azriel was drying with a towel smashed in his hold as he took in the way the shadows worked with you. You and the shadows both froze in your actions. You looked from the orange to the shards on the ground then to the male that was standing above the mess. Your eyes widened as you noticed he was already looking at you. You took a hesitant step back, hand unconsciously gripping one of the knives in the knife block beside you. 

The nightmare from before flashed through your mind. Your chest started to ache as anxiety ate away at you rapidly. The angry look of the man with the whip seemed so similar to the look Azriel was giving you now. Your hands started to heat up, your fingertips throbbing as you dropped the orange. One of the shadows however caught it. The other that was against you started to work up your arm under your shirt until it was touching your face. Another one slipped away from the already seething Illyrian and swept across your hand holding the knife calmly. 

You slowly let it go, a single tear worked out of your eye and down your face as you blinked. The shadow that sat along your cheek wiped at it before it could pass your jawline. A shaky breath slipped your lips as you calmed yourself. Your hands stopped throbbing and your chest stopped aching. Azriel was looking at you curiously when you finally met his stare again. But your eyes broke away quickly when the water started to whistle. 

You made fast work of getting out two cups and making two cups of tea. You left one on the counter, looking up at Azriel for a moment. The shadow holding the orange placed it back into your empty hand. The fruit was bare of rind and pith and you gripped it loosely. You whispered a thank you to the shadow and it swept across your hand in response. Then you finally fled the kitchen. 

The three shadows stayed with you and Azriel bristled at the disrespect. But then a few of his other shadows were bringing the tea cup towards him. He waved them away but they insisted on him taking a drink. When he finally brought the peace offering up to his lips he was blown away. The tea was made the exact way he liked it, down to the amount of sugar and the spoonful of honey. He almost choked as the thought settled in his head.

A/N: I hope you guys liked this part! I was so happy to finally write an official interaction between Az and Reader! I'll be posting the next part next week! As always likes, follows, reblogs and comments are much appreciated.

Tags(open): @wolfsbane44 @moonlwghts @maddietheshoe @hyemishii @fanboyluvr @kmc1989 @acourtofinkandpapyrus @luvmoo

[foreverrandomwritings]

Alliance Maker-Chapter 2

Summary:Recovering from your wounds takes a while. Luckily you have Nesta to look over you.

Pairing:Slow Burn!Azriel x Afab!Reader

Warnings:Wounds, weapons, murder, sexual assault(blink and you'll miss it), alcochol, blood, stitches and curse words.

Word count:2053

Masterlist Series Masterlist

It had taken you six days to wake up after being placed in one of the guest rooms in the house of wind. The wound to your abdomen had been deep. Three long angry bloodied gashes. Madja did her best to heal some of it but in the end had to stitch it up. The healer stayed monitoring for improvements or setbacks the first day. Nesta was by your bed side as you lay unmoving. Feyre was the only one allowed inside the room other than Madja. 

“Rhysand listen to me. We will be safe I promise. Go and help Elain watch after Nyx. I will be back down in just a couple of hours.” Feyre had said, finally coaxing the male out of the room. 

Standing right outside the room Rhysand had however once again tried to enter your mind but was met with the same inferno of flames and screams as before. His head throbbed like it had been burnt. He had sent Azriel in to see if maybe his shadows could pick up anything. Nesta had refused to let him inside the room. So as he stood in the hallway he sent the eager shadows slipping under the door towards your bed. They swept across the floors and walls hastily, desperately trying to reach your frozen form. But they had pulled back as soon as they touched your skin. Like they too had been burnt. Nesta had also scolded him for what he did.

“I told you to stay the fuck out of this room. That meant your shadows too. I don’t know what happened to them but that’s a mercy compared to what I would’ve done.” She had shouted at him in the doorway of the room after having flung the door open. Cassian, who had heard the commotion from inside their shared room not far from your own, wandered into the hall. 

“Az, just go to your room. I’ll talk to her.” He had to pull her back from jumping at his brother. The shawdowsinger rolled his eyes before roaming off to his room. She quickly steeled herself before shrugging Cassian off her and slipped back into the room. 

“Nesta, can you please come out here so we can talk?” The illyrian knew the likelihood of that was slim to none but still figured he’d ask. The only response was silence so he left her alone to go back to a lonely room. Sleeping in a bed without his mate had left him restless. He had been trying to understand what was going on with her but knew that prying wouldn’t get him anywhere. 

They were at a loss on how to get anything from you especially with Nesta protecting you like a guard dog. She stayed by you day and night. Sleeping in a chair next to your bed. She changed your bandages as Madja instructed. It was on the third day that things took an odd turn. Nesta had been reading you a book and eating the roast and potatoes the house had given her when she smelled something in the air. As she sniffed again she finally figured out what the smell was. It was something burning. 

Her eyes whipped around the room quickly seeing if the house had lit a candle or a fire in the hearth. But she found not a flame in sight. Her eyes then snapped to you. Laying on the bed perfectly still you had smoke radiating from your body. 

She quickly jumped into action, the house sending her buckets and buckets of ice as she poured them all over your body and the bed. As the smoke cleared she shouted for her sister in her head. Minutes that felt like hours passed before Feyre was in the room with her. She could hear Rhysand outside begging to be let in. But Feyre insisted they were safe. 

“Just let me in. Maybe I can help.” The High Lord pleaded from the other side of the door. He hated the thought of his mate, his high lady, the mother of his child being in a room with a stranger. He hadn’t wanted you in Velaris in the first place. But he knew he still owed Nesta for the life she helped bring into this world. He would never be able to fully thank her for Nyx. He also knew he could trust his mates' judgment. 

Feyre looked at her sister asking her silently if she could let him in but the cold look in Nesta’s eyes had her thinking better of it. So Feyre sent Rhysand to go and fetch Madja while the sisters talked. She asked the eldest sister what exactly happened but she didn’t have a good answer, just that there was smoke coming from your body. Once Madja arrived she gave you a thorough exam. Coming up empty as to why you were smoking.

“I’m so sorry, High Lady, I have never seen a case like this before. I haven’t an idea what to do about this other than the ice if it’s working.” She exclaimed hesitantly, staring at your body. You were proving to be one of the most peculiar cases she's ever seen.  

“That’s alright Madja, thank you so much for coming.” Feyre reassured the healer with a comforting smile adorning her features. 

On the fourth day Lucien arrived as a favor to the High Lady. Because who better to explain someone suddenly radiating smoke then a fire wielder themselves. Nesta let him in the room but watched him closely. Snarling through her teeth when his hand got too close to you. He backed up quickly before he finally spoke up. 

“She has fire coursing through her veins. It’s similar to the fire in mine yet different. It’s hard to explain. It’s almost like it’s fighting to keep something at bay.” The red haired emissary told the two sisters a hint of doubt in his voice. Nesta went to spit an insult his way but was met with a glare from Feyre. 

“Thank you for your help Lucien. We know more than we knew yesterday so that’s a good thing. Right Nesta?” The youngest sister spoke with authority in her voice as her glare sharpened upon looking at her sister. 

“Sure whatever now get the fuck out.” Was Nestas curt reply as she turned back to your bedside. He just shared a look with Feyre as she nodded at him, before quickly exiting the room. 

“Nesta there was no need to behave like that. He gave us information that we didn’t have. He helped us. I expect you to apologize next time you see him.” Feyre scolded her sister. 

“Are you ordering me as my High Lady or suggesting me as my sister?” Nesta spat out, wincing slightly at the tone of her voice. 

“I’m suggesting you give him a break as your sister.” Feyre softly spoke, a small seed of regret forming in her stomach. She hadn’t an idea why her sister was so attached to the female lying on the bed. But Nesta only ever cared for few so openly so she decided to stop pressuring her sister. 

The fifth day Madja returned and gave the all clear on bathing you as your skin had cooled. So with the help of Feyre they somehow carefully got your unconscious form into the large bath in the washroom. The warm water had a dark hue instantly from the dried blood and dirt caked onto your skin. Nesta was the one that bathed you. Noticing the scars littering your skin. She had worked the braids out of your hair and washed it. She noticed the way you had lost weight in the short time you’d been here. 

“We should probably throw these away. I grabbed a nightgown while you were bathing her.” One hard look at your leathers had them both coming to the same conclusion. They dressed you in the nightgown before placing you back on the cleaned bed. 

“Do you need anything else from me?” Feyre asked her sister as she placed a hand on the doorknob. She was desperate to get back home to Nyx and Rhysand but would wait if the oldest Archeron needed her to. 

“I’ll be okay. Thank you for helping me, Feyre.” Feyre nodded her head at Nesta’s reply before exiting the room. Nesta grabbed another book and started to read to you. 

The day you woke up had been going smoothly. Nesta had decided she wanted a change of scenery so she sat in the library. Gwyn and Emerie were with her, deciding that their friend needed them too much for them to wait for her to come to them. They had been respectful of her space but had been growing increasingly worried. 

“She helped me once.” Nesta broke the silence lingering in the library. The Valkyrie’s looked at her then each other waiting for her to continue. 

“It was years ago, we had been poor for a while at that point. Feyre had gotten a few coins for us to spend and I had wandered up town by myself. I desperately wanted out of the house. Away from the sadness of my father and the optimism of Elain. So I just sat there at the old dingy fountain for hours. It was when night began to fall that I started the walk back home.” Her voice shook as she spoke the words. Her fingers started to twist into her nightgown. 

“There were men waiting for me. I didn’t see them or hear them as they snuck up on me. They had grabbed me and were dragging me along. Speaking of doing awful things to me. I was fighting as best I could but they were so much stronger than I was. She was so quiet that if I hadn’t seen it for myself I wouldn’t have believed she was there.” At this point her hands were fists by her side, her tone becoming cold and empty. 

“She killed them all, quickly and efficiently. They were so drunk they didn’t even notice what was happening until the third lay dead in the dirt. The last two tried to run but she was quicker. She flipped the dagger she had in this weird show off kind of way after she slit the last throat.” A shiver ran through her as the scene flashed through her mind. The image of bloodied bodies laying across the dirty ground was something she had once been completely disgusted by. Now however she'd barely blink at the scene. 

“When she was done she turned to me. There was a fire in her eyes that I craved to have. I had never seen someone so angry yet so calm and calculated. But the angry fire turned into a playful ember when she looked at me.” She had sat down on one of the couches at this point. Gwyn beside her holding her hand. Emerie was across from them in a chair, wings spread out behind her a look of understanding in her eyes. 

“After I was done throwing up she led me back to her and her fathers cottage and fed me. Watched over me for a couple hours making sure I was fine enough to go home. She walked me back home that night.” A smile formed its way onto her face as the story started to come to a close. 

“I’d see her occasionally after that and she’d give me a warm smile. She was always clad in a tunic and trousers. She looked so out of place amongst the girls in dresses. It reminded me a lot of Feyre.” Gwyn and Emerie thought about what it would be like in a world where females didn’t often wear tunic and trousers. 

“We would talk every so often. She never asked for anything in return. When I saw her again in those woods I knew I had to help her. That this was my time to return the favor.” As her sentence finished they shot up from their seats. The walls of the house started to shake as a loud roar was heard from inside your room. They quickly moved towards your room, all eyes looking to the bed. But the bed was empty.

A/N: Not much of Azriel but he's coming in soon I promise. As always; likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

Tags(open): @theeleggymeggy @wolfsbane44 @moonlwghts @maddietheshoe @hyemishii

[pushing500]

One Anima tree linking ritual gone well, and Kaz is now a level 14 psycaster with resurrection powers! Huzzah!

What do we think, everybody?

The pros of bringing Wendy back are that we will have Wendy back (obviously), Tamarind will be delighted to see her wife again (I assume), and she can give poor Zonovo and Kaz a break from working constantly in the kitchen so they can do their other jobs.

The cons are Kaz losing a finger, Kaz losing 6 hours of efficiency while he's in a coma, and the potential for it to go horribly wrong due to the fact that Wendy has been dead for quite some time now.

I can't decide, so anybody's input is valued! xoxo

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[kirisclangen]

Shortfern

She/her, 128 moons, cis molly, currently pregnant!

[satoshi-mochida]

Touhou Dungeon Maker: The Labyrinth of Heart second trailer.

[iridescentalchemyst]

Shift Your Focus to the Good

Want to learn more about some positive agents of change? Check out my recommendations and shift your focus to the GOOD!

I know how easy it is to get caught up in the corruption and darkness in the world. When I first started waking up to the truth that are hidden in plain sight, right under our noses, I could not stop myself from reading and sharing everything I could. Between the 24/7 negativity broadcasted on every news and media channel, corruption in local government, and all the obstacles The Powers That Be…

[thestuffedalligator]

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin. They both looked down at the crumpled shape of the Overlord, His Unholy Majesty, in his obsidian armor.

His final spasms had been mesmerizingly acrobatic. The fall down the steps leading up to his iron throne had pretzelled his body quite impressively, both arms folded behind his back and one leg bent at a jaunty angle.

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin.

"Shit," said the goblin.

"Shit," said the orc.

"We're likely to get blamed for this," the goblin said. She walked over to the head of the glittering mangled heap and started pulling the helmet off.

"It's not our fault," the orc said. "It's hard to help someone choking when they wear two-hundred pounds of spiked armor at all times."

"Yeah, well," the goblin grunted. The helmet came free, and the bald head of the Overlord bounced on the stone with a hollow, coconut noise. "You know how it is in this bloody country - thieves get their heads cut off so they can't think about thieving, and all that." She fished in the Overlord's mouth with a finger and pulled out the obstructing olive on the end of her claw.

She popped it into her mouth and chewed. "What do you reckon they do for a regicide?" she said.

"We should run," the orc said. She had started bouncing her leg. "I hear that there's some places in the Alliance where they just kill you and let you stay dead. That's got to be nicer than what'll happen if we stay here."

The goblin started to nod - and then her gaze fell on the helmet.

It looked like a pineapple designed by a deranged blacksmith. It was all thorns and spikes and hard edges, as though the maker had been very determined to not let pigeons roost on it. The only bits that weren't solid iron were eyeholes. Nobody had ever seen the Overlord's face.

She held up the helmet and squinted from it to the orc. One of the thorns had been bent badly in the fall.

Nobody had ever seen the Overlord's face...

"Right," she muttered. "Right. Could work - or."

The orc had a sudden vision of the immediate future. "No," she said.

"I mean you're about his height-"

"No."

"It would just be for a-"

"Absolutely not."

"Just hear me out," the goblin said. "Outside of this room are two-thousand men and orcs and goblins who are absolutely gonzo about this man, and there's a whole country of them outside of the castle, and at any moment someone's going to walk in that door and see one dead tit in black armor and two unbelievably dead idiots next to him.

"Or." She tossed the helmet up like a basketball to the orc, who fumbled and tried to find somewhere to hold it that wasn't a knife's edge. "We chuck him out the window now, walk out the door in the armor, and ditch the armor as soon as nobody sees us."

The orc had started bouncing her leg again. "They'll know something's up the second I walk out of the room."

"No worries," said the goblin. "Leave that to me."

---

It had been a very strange year for the Empire.

Change had rolled across the land as slow and inevitable as a glacier. Roads and bridges carved the gray, blasted wildlands, and a number of social reforms had made the country a place where you could be miserable, yes, but miserable in comfort and safety, and that was an improvement.

Barely anyone got boiled alive in molten metal, and even if the disgusted sun never rose to light the Empire, at least you had a roof over your head to protect yourself from the acid rain.

"Your empire flourishes, Your Unholy Majesty," the magician said over her wine glass. She looked down from the tower's balcony over the gleaming stone battlements. Some work had been done to line the castle and surrounding city with sizzling, crackling alchemical lights at night. The whole thing glowed like something dangerously radioactive.

The suit of armor waved a languid, glittering gauntlet over to the goblin, who bowed.

"His Abominable Gloriousness Thanks You," the goblin recited. "The Prosperity Of His Empire Can Only Be Achieved Through The Prosperity Of His People."

"If I may be so bold, I am quite pleased that you had chosen to take my counsel under consideration," said the magician. "We have accomplished many things together."

Another wave. Another bow. "The Overlord, May His Presence Swallow The Sun And Stars, Thanks You As Well."

"It was quite gratifying to see you change your mind, after so many centuries of denial." The wine was swirled. "Tell me, what was it that finally gave you cause to listen to me?"

There was the slightest hesitation. The goblin's eyes flicked to the armor, then to the magician. She puffed out her chest. "Do you question the wisdom of His Austere Lugubriousness?" she asked.

The magician looked at the goblin. She looked at the armor. She tipped her head back and drank the wine too quickly.

She looked back at the armor. "I know you're the orc, you moron," she said.

The room went deathly still. An alchemical light fizzled.

The orc pulled off the helmet, sending long, untied hair down tangling, and said: "How could you possibly-"

"Because you're both idiots!" the magician said. The goblin jumped. The orc jumped with a noise like a dropped stove. "What kind of a plan was this?! If it wasn't for me, you would have been turned into fertilizer months ago."

She closed her eyes. She took a long, dramatic breath. She set the wine glass down on the balcony rail.

"How did the Overlord die?" she asked when she seemed like she had gotten a hold over herself.

"Choked on an olive," said the goblin.

"Threw his body out the window," said the orc.

"You don't have to mention the window," said the goblin.

"Right," said the orc. "Sorry."

The magician looked out over the city, hand curled thoughtfully under her nose. "Who knows about this?"

"Just us. And, uh. You. Apparently."

"And why did you accept my counsel?"

The orc blinked. "Sorry?"

"Why did you accept my counsel?" the magician repeated.

"Well," the orc said. "Well - you seemed like you had good ideas-"

"Great ideas!" the goblin said with an edge of desperation. "Don't know why the old bastard didn't listen to you!"

"Right - right," said the orc. "And when we figured we were stuck doing this - well, it just made sense, really."

The magician seemed to absorb this. She nodded. "All right," she said, striding between the two and grabbing the crystal decanter.

"Um," said the orc. "Sorry. What happens now?"

"What happens is that you two will continue to serve as Overlord," said the magician. "You will continue to take my counsel. We will continue to reform this bloody country, and gods willing, we will turn it into the crown jewel of the world by next Midwinter."

The orc looked at the goblin. The goblin looked at the orc.

"Really?" the goblin asked.

"Oh yes," said the magician. "I've worked hard to be counsel to the Overlord, and I have no reason to stop now. And besides-"

She looked the orc up and down with a deliberate slowness, poring over every microscopic detail, eyes tracing over every jagged line, and grinned like a panther.

"You look much better in the armor than he ever did," she said. Dark robes swirled like a becleavaged thundercloud, and she strode out through the high iron doors, decanter in hand.

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin.

"Shit," said the goblin.

"Shit," said the orc.

[reasonsforhope]

An illegal toxic dump site in Croatia, the theft of water from a major aquifer in southern Spain, illegal trading of ozone-depleting refrigerants in France: This is just a sampling of the environmental crimes that European countries are struggling to stop. The lack of accountability for these acts stems in part from the European Union’s legal code, which experts say is riddled with vague definitions and gaps in enforcement. That’s about to change. 

Last week, EU lawmakers voted in a new directive that criminalizes cases of environmental damage “comparable to ecocide,” a term broadly defined as the severe, widespread, and long-term destruction of the natural world. Advocates called the move “revolutionary,” both because it sets strict penalties for violators, including up to a decade in jail, and because it marks the first time that an international body has created a legal pathway for the prosecution of ecocide.

“This decision marks the end of impunity for environmental criminals and could usher in a new age of environmental litigation in Europe,” wrote Marie Toussaint, a French lawyer and EU parliamentarian for the Greens/European Free Alliance group, on X...

The new directive uses the term “ecocide” in its preamble, but does not criminalize the act by laying out a legal definition (the most widely accepted definition of ecocide was developed by an international panel of experts in 2021). Instead, it works by providing a list of “qualified offenses,” or crimes that fall within its purview. These include pollution from ships, the introduction of invasive species, and ozone depletion...

The new law holds people liable for environmental destruction if they acted with knowledge of the damage their actions would cause. This aspect of the law is important, experts said, because it means that a permit is no longer enough for a company to avoid culpability.  

“If new information shows that behavior is causing irreversible damage to health and nature – you will have to stop,” a member of the European Parliament from the Netherlands, Antonius Manders, told Euronews. 

Advocates like Mehta hope that the EU’s move will have influence beyond Europe’s borders. The principal goal of the Stop Ecocide campaign is for the International Criminal Court to designate ecocide as the fifth international crime that it prosecutes, after crimes against humanity, war crimes, crimes of aggression, and genocide. At the moment, environmental destruction can only be prosecuted as a war crime at the ICC, and limitations in the law make this extremely difficult to do...

Kate Mackintosh, the executive director of the Netherlands-based UCLA Law Promise Institute Europe, told Grist that the ICC is unlikely to adopt an ecocide law if other countries do not do so first. 

“It’s not something you can just pull out of thin air,” she said, adding that any international legal doctrine has to have a precedent on the national level. “That’s the way states are going to accept it.”

The EU’s 27 member states will have two years to adapt the new legislation into their penal codes. Afterwards, their implementation must be reviewed and updated at least once every five years using a “risk-analysis based approach,” to account for advancements in experts’ understanding of what might constitute an environmental crime. Mehta said that despite its omission of some important offenses, the law sets an important example for other countries. Several days before the EU vote, Belgium adapted its criminal code to include the directive, making it the first country in Europe to recognize ecocide as a crime.

The ruling “shows leadership and compassion,” Mehta said. “It will establish a clear moral as well as legal ‘red line’, creating an essential steer for European industry leaders and policy-makers going forward.”

-via Grist, March 6, 2024

[celeste-clearwater-06]

heartbeat (thorin oakenshield x female!modern! reader)

gif by me!!

desc. - reader puts her CPR lessons to good use when thorin's on the brink of death. (inspired by an imagine by @imaginexhobbit but make it sad🫶 also i listened to "farewell to dobby" while reading this, it adds so muchhh)

warnings - angst 💔

word count - 2.7k

For most of the time you’d been traveling with Thorin and his merry band of warriors, you could only account a few times you provided yourself useful to the group. Bofur was a whittler and toy maker, Oin a healer, Ori a scribe. Thorin and his sister-sons, the rightful heir to a kingdom. Even Bilbo had squeezed his way into a position of burglary, though he was hardly fit, and was still fighting to prove himself.

You?

A few stories around the campfire. Some questions answered about where you’d appeared from out of nowhere in particular. Mouth watering modern food recipes you babbled on about, over rabbit stew Bombur happily served on the cold nights on the road. And sure, you were getting good with a sword, but not nearly as skillful as the fearless fighter Dwalin.

You could see the malevolence and distaste in Thorin’s eyes when Gandalf decided for himself that you would make a fine addition to the group. After all, some otherworldly stranger happening upon them just as their fateful quest began was no coincidence. To him it meant something. But to the leader of the group? Danger? Deadweight? You couldn’t tell. Whatever it was, it settled behind his cold, steel-blue eyes and swelled whenever he watched you fail miserably at every task given.

You simply weren’t built for a world like this.

Thorin didn’t hate you. He wasn’t necessarily fond of you either. And how you longed to fit in, impress him maybe. Break past whatever tough exterior that he used to keep a distance between the two of you. Pushing too much would surely annoy him, so you opted to keep to yourself, sitting back and placing yourself near Gandalf and the witty Bilbo Baggins, who seemed to have walked a few miles in your own shoes. If he could wear them, that is. Hoping maybe one day the King under the mountain would come around. Maybe.

But now, soaring over the horizon of a morning sun and above the towering mountains, on the feathered back of a massive bird, Bilbo had proven himself in his bravery, and you were alone and useless in your skills.

You were seated atop the same eagle as the halfling, right behind another that carried Thorin’s limp body in its talons, wind and the worried cries of his nephews rushing through your hair and past your ears. Azog’s fight was not an easy one. Not that you could do much anyways, dangling uselessly from a blazing pine tree and fingers slipping from its scorching branches. But Thorin, ever the brave, was taken down quickly.

Thank the lord for Gandalf’s endless alliances.

Now, the eagles circled a plateau, oddly sticking out from above high treetops like a sore thumb, and began to descend to its slanted surface where each member of the company jumped off. Some destination this was, hundreds of feet off the ground. You’d think they might find a safer spot to land this band of underground dwelling travelers but beggars can’t be choosers. At least you were out of harm's way for the time being. The eagle you and Bilbo rode flew low enough for you to hop off and land safely on the cliff’s surface, then turn and see Thorin, unconscious and unmoving, set down gently in front of the rest of the group.

They all crowded around him, shouting and shaking his body vigorously, but to no avail. Your stomach dropped when you heard one of them mutter a word that sounded like “dead”.

You rushed over, just getting a few glimpses of his face from behind the heads of thick hair and heavy fur coats circling him like vultures, Bilbo at your heels and following in curiosity.

“He’s not breathing!”

“Thorin! Thorin, wake up!” A hand tapped on the side of his face.

You immediately began shouting to clear some room. The sea of worried dwarves parted for you, just enough room to sling your haversack off your shoulders and lean down on your knees, bringing an ear to his mouth. They were right. Not a breath to be heard. Nor a pulse, you discovered, after placing your fingers to the side of his cold neck.

“No…no no, no.”

The company shared confused mutters and looks, worry lines still etched like canyons in their faces as they watched you clamor to unclasp his thick cloak and pull away as much clothing as you could from his chest.

Now, you were no doctor. Not even a medical student for that matter. Just barely scraping by with an art degree and two, low paying part-time jobs back home. Wherever that was. But, thankfully, those required CPR lessons back in junior high suddenly came rushing back to you, and you were gonna put to the best use you could.

You locked your elbows, flattened your palms, and then hastily pressed against the brute of his firm chest. Mahal, it was stubborn, and the armored shirt between your hands and his heart was no help, but acting quickly spared no time for shedding any more of his clothes. Again and again you pressed, one, two, just how the instructor taught you with her quick tongue and loud voice.

“An even pace! You’re going to lose him!”

The recall made your head spin, especially considering it might have been a bit comedic at the time, trying to revive an armless mannequin on the tile floor of your classroom. But under the steady pressure of your palms was a real person, teetering on the edge of life and death.

Gandalf landed somewhere behind you, being the last to touch ground, but he was forgotten in the sea of deep voices asking what you could possibly be doing.

By the 16th compression, you were beginning to break a sweat. Twenty, twenty one…

“Lass… what are ya’ doing?” Bofur's voice, usually friendly and jovial, was a low and cowering one. His question left the rest of the group quiet. You heard, but you didn’t answer. That would be for later when this was over. Preferably with a happy ending.

Thirty.

You moved to pinch Thorin's nose shut, tilting his head just slightly off the ground with the other hand tangled in his hair and breathed into his open mouth.

Any and all bewildered muttering was lost on the focus you had, to watch for any movement in his relaxed face.

You breathed again, and then bent over to listen. Nothing.

Now things began to get more grave than you’d taken them before.

You moved back to begin compressions again, this time pressing harder and deeper against his heart. You lifted a forearm to wipe the sweat gathering on your brow.

In your class, you were supposed to take turns, and rotate when one got tired so they could properly compress. But this wasn’t class.

Thorin was beneath the weight of your hands and his face was losing color.

“Come on… come on Thorin.”

You lost count after the 19th shove downwards, adrenaline kicking in and tears blurring the corners of your eyes as Thorin convulsed.

A warm hand settled on your shoulder above.

“Lass… he-” you smacked it away, anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach like fire that you spat out.

“No! No he’s not, n-not yet.”

Again, you breathed into his airway, heavy and even, like you were supposed to. You were doing everything right. So why wasn’t it working? Why wasn’t he breathing?

This was the quietest you had ever heard the company. Only birds and the sound of your exhausted, heaving breaths and choking sobs floating in the cool morning air.

You moved back to compressions, starting again, one, two, three. You were begging him, hysterically pleading his unresponsive body to kick start back up.

“Please Thorin. Come on.”

Now tears rolled down the apple of your cheeks, warm and bothersome and blinding, falling over your hands and his clothes. Your arms ached at the now desperate shoving against his heart. You looked pathetic, like a widow begging for scraps of Thorin’s lifeline, something to get him through. The ground dug harshly into your knees, bruising and irritating them through the pants as they dully scraped with each movement.

Twenty two.

You were slowing down, growing weary and tired from the work. But it wasn’t good enough. At this point, with the silent stares, you knew that even the ever stubborn dwarves had lost hope for their leader some time ago. And you had too, but now you were already getting past the twenty-fifth press down. Curse the lot of them, just staring down at you with pity as you sniffed and wiped the snot and tears from your face. And curse the beauty of the morning sun peaking over the mountains, so regal and beautiful, and staring down at the morose show of a sad little human weeping to herself.

“Please… please, God you idiot. Running down there like that.”

A cry frogged its way out of the back of your throat, raspy and gurgling. You lift his head for the third time, sniffed in and then pushed your shaking breath as hard as you could manage, pulled away, then back down to press your quivering lips upon his cold ones and-

A breath. Soft and faint, just barely there, and it slightly cooled the tears on your face.

You froze, staring down at Thorin to see his eyes twitch just slightly underneath their lids. Another exhale fled him, his time much more apparent, and his brows furrowed as he stirred awake. The gasps and shouts from the company, scrambling over and circling him like they did before to help him up as he came to.

“He’s alive!”

“A miracle! Bless the Valor!”

You lifted yourself from the ground, onto your feet, but the shock of your attempts actually working, and exhaustion, just left you to stumble backwards onto your butt, crying harder than before, in relief and joy, nonetheless sobbing like your life depended on it. You gave into the fatigue of your muscles, the tiredness from the adrenaline, and exhaustion from your sobs, and fell onto your back, covering your eyes with a forearm with the other limply laying on the ground next to you. Bilbo kneeled next to you and laid his small hand over yours, watching as the king was pulled to his feet and grimacing at the noises of his jovial party celebrating with shouting and laughing.

“You did it,” The burglar said quietly, just enough for you to hear. It wasn’t just amazement in his voice, but reassurance. Something to ground you, like the warm squeeze of his hand.

You trembled, breaths coming in and out with a shiver.

Thorin’s dazed when you slowly sit up off the ground to look at him, swaying about and being jostled as each excited dwarf embraced and jumped around him, and an arm shouldered over Kìli’s to keep his balance.

“You were dead.” Dwalin’s normally stony, hard-set face, was graced with the most horrified look you’d ever seen in your life, eyes widened and brows twisted upwards in awe. That seemed to settle everyone down enough, and shake Thorin from the rest of his stupor. Once again, the world around you was blessed with silence that you hadn’t gotten a taste of since you arrived. It was short lived.

“Dead?” Thorin asked, incredulous and confused.

“Ye’ weren’t breathing lad!” Gloin chimed in, “we thought you were gone!”

The king’s eyes narrow, and shift between the members of his party, blinking away a head rush.

“How is that possible?” The second set of words he’d spoken since he screamed Azog’s name. Thorin’s voice was low and rasping. He slowly turned, following the astounded, wide-eyed stares from the surrounding dwarves, boring into you like you were some God.

You sniffled, wiping at your reddened, runny nose with the sleeve of your shirt.

He lifted a jeweled hand to graze over his heart, where you were reviving him, just staring at the sad sight of your tearful eyes.

“She saved ya’, Thorin,” Balin’s voice is serious and somber, breaking the silence, “Brough’ ya’ back from near death. Mahal knows how.”

Thorin’s eyes grew sharp, brows furrowing and piercing into you, where you pulled yourself to sit on your knees. His fingers tightened around the cloth where his hand laid, clutching at his chest.

“You,” he gruffed, “You did this?”

“I-I… I didn’t know if it was gonna work.” Your throat tightened and squeezed. Great, even more tears flowed down your face. Thorin’s eyes held the same glint that made your stomach twist with embarrassment and shame. The least he could do is offer a nod of gratitude towards you. Instead, he tore free from the group, ripping his arm away off his nephew’s shoulder and stumbling towards you like a drunken fool, with thudding footsteps.

Dwalin calls after him uselessly, just hanging back and letting the scene play out.

When he stops in front of you, eyes firey and broad chest heaving breaths in and out, standing a few inches over where you’re knelt, all you can do is try not to look away. You’re glad you hadn’t.

A boa-tight grip took hold of your heart and tightened when you saw his features soften, worry lines and crow's feet disappearing in the appearance of a small, incredulous smile. His softened eyes lined themselves with the hint of tears catching like jewels in the morning sun. Thorin dropped down to his knees to meet your height in a hug that you could never have prepared yourself for. You freeze for a moment, completely dumbfounded. Thorin, fearless, merciless, King Under the Mountain was hugging, no, embracing you, with the force of a thousand winds and strength of ten thousand men, because he was alive, thanks to you. And you hugged him back, pulling closer than you already were, and grasping at the back of his shirt and cried into his shoulder. The dwarves cheered in excitement behind Thorin. Through the yelling and praise, you can hear Thorin’s low voice next to your ear.

“I cannot repay this deed. Thank you.”

You pull away to see the kindest, warmest smile your eyes had ever been blessed to lay upon. It knocked the breath from your lungs. The corners of his eyes and the arch of his nose wrinkled upwards. It suited his face much more than the cold and stoic stares he was prone to.

“I wasn’t sure you were gonna make it.” Was all you could huff out.

“Yet I did. I misunderstood you greatly.” Thorin wiped a tear from the side of your face, “You make a member of this group. My life is indebted to you. And you,”

He peered over your shoulder at a wide-eyed Bilbo Baggins, standing just past your shoulder. You helped him stand from the ground, arm linked in his to meet the hobbit.

“You nearly got yourself killed,” he slipped free from your arm, and started toward Bilbo, just as he did you. “Did I not say you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild?”

Your face fell, akin to Bilbo’s solemn look. He stood there, taking the string of insults like a punching bag.

“That you had no place amongst us?”

And then he pulled the hobbit in just as he did you.

“I have never been so wrong, in all my life.”

Your heart reeled, and this time you smiled along with the rest of the company’s rejoices, watching the surprised grin spread across Bilbo’s face. Thorin pulled away.

“I am sorry I doubted you.”

“No, no. I would have doubted me, too.”

A hand planted itself on your shoulder, and you turned to look at Gandalf and his sagely smile.

“You’ve made yourself quite the home in these dwarves' hearts, young lady,” he said. It was comedic, the way his silvery hair and beard dramatically blew in the wind, “Perhaps once this has settled, you stay with them. I think you’d find yourself more than welcome in Erebor’s Halls.”

You hummed in thought. The band of travelers were gathered on the edge of the plateau, looking out in the distance towards the peak of the Lonely Mountain, calling their name through the mist.

Thorin turned back to look at you over his shoulder with a gentle smile, and nodded his head to you in a silent thanks. The ghost of a blush spread across his face.

“I just might.”

(aaaaaah! what did you guys think??? :3 it feels wonderful to get a full fic out after so long, ive had this idea in my head for dayyys ugh 💔 please send me some requests loves, i'm in desperate need of some comfort fics! don't forget to reblog and like!! love yas! 🩷🌺🌸🌷💝💞)

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[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Chapter 6

Finnick Odair x Reader

Series Masterlist Link

I love writing pissed off Johanna dialogue!

Content warnings - death (it’s the hunger games)

As much as he wants to chase after you, he can’t. Katniss would kill you and he can’t abandon the plan, not until he can pass off babysitting duty to Johanna.

You spent the evening wandering the jungle, unnerved by every little noise you heard. After you left, you circled back the way you had originally come, hoping the others would carry on in the other direction.

Your arm was still bleeding but you didn’t care. It’s not like any sponsors were lining up to send you stuff. You’ll have to kill a career and steal their supplies using the only weapon you have, the arrow that landed in your arm.

A few hours after dark, the faces of the fallen appear in the sky. None of your allies are on the list so you don’t really care. It’s not like you knew these people.

You opt to go deeper into the jungle, opposite of where Finnick must be. This whole place is starting to look the same, though, and it’s hard to get your bearings.

Hours later, a gong rings twelve times. You don’t have time to ask yourself what it means as the hairs on your body stand up and a large blast of electricity shoots down mere yards away from you.

Lightning.

You have to move. Now. Your ears hurt and panic rises in your throat. They’re here to kill you. You’re gonna die.

Running, you collide with someone, another tribute. They don’t even have time to scream before your arrow is through their neck and their cannon is sounding. Move. Now.

You run until you can’t anymore, scared that something is chasing you. The game makers must have caused the lightning to force you and the other tribute closer together.

There were other canons throughout the night, but you paid no attention to them. You sat under a tree, hugging your knees, trying to ignore the burning in your dry throat and the pain in your arm. Of course Katniss had to shoot your dominant arm.

When the day is bright enough to illuminate your section of the jungle, you decide to head back towards where the lightning was. If another tribute was over there then there may be some food or water close by. Maybe they even had sponsors.

The sun is high in the sky by the time you make it back to where the fight occurred. There’s no trace of it but you know the spot. Your hair stands on edge again and you panic, knowing exactly what this means. The lightning strikes and you bolt, running from whoever must be near.

They’re going to kill you. You’re dead. You need to run faster.

You run downhill, towards what you think is the lake. Despite not being allowed in the ocean for the past five years, you’re probably still the second best swimmer in the arena behind Finnick. If you could lure whoever is chasing you into the water then you could drown them.

Your legs barely make it to the beach, completely drained from your lack of sleep and sustenance. Whoever was following you must have realized your plan and stopped. Maybe nobody followed you at all.

As you make your way out of the jungle and towards the water, you pause, spotting a large group of people a ways down the beach. It’s Finnick and his alliance. Maybe they would give you food, or shoot you. Honestly, who knows?

They spot you approaching and Katniss aims another arrow at you. You’re still clutching the one she shot you with in your hand, ready to stab anyone who comes near.

“Y/N!” Finnick exclaims as he runs over to you. “I was so worried.”

You look over at the group and back at him, silently asking if they’re ok with you being there. He sighs, realizing that Katniss probably isn’t ok with you being there but he needs you with him anyways. He can’t lose you.

“Have you eaten?” he asks. You shake your head no. “We have food and water. Oh! And some first aid stuff for your arm. Katniss is sorry by the way.”

“Skin?” you ask him. Noticing the scabs on his body and the cuts on his face.

“We got caught in some poisonous fog last night and ended up in a fight with some monkeys this morning,” he explains. “I’m alright. Nobody in our group has died except Blight. He hit the force field last night and they couldn’t revive him.”

You hum in response, catching a whiff of the fish Finnick must have caught for the group to eat. He notices your hunger and gently guides you to sit on the edge of the group close to Johanna and far away from Katniss.

“Glad you could join us feisty!” Johanna chuckles as you sit near her. You give her a shrug as if to say that you’re currently indifferent to your existence. She gets the memo.

“Nuts and Volts,” she states. “Have you met fiesty?”

The man and woman look up at the group.

“Yes,” Beetee replies. “I believe we briefly met Y/N at her victory tour celebration in the capital but it’s been many years. It is nice to see you again Y/N, although I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“You guys aren’t letting her stay with us, right?” Katniss asks and you tense up. They need her for their plan. You’re disposable.

“Back off firebird,” Johanna barks. “She’s sticking with us.”

“She tried to kill me!” Katniss exclaims.

“Because you touched her,” Johanna shouts. You flinch at the volume. “Rule numéro uno is don’t touch fiesty. Plus I thought you were a good fighter, Katnip. You mean to tell me you couldn’t win a fight against her? She hasn’t been outside in over five years. She’s practically harmless!”

“Let’s settle down,” Finnick states, noticing you becoming tense due to the yelling. “Here’s your fish Y/N. I’m gonna go grab you some water.” You smile at him in thanks and begin to eat the fish. The smile fades when you notice Katniss watching you eat like a hawk, so you turn around and sit with your back towards her while you eat.

You need to convince her of Johanna’s words. You’re harmless.

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[saintmurd0ck]

lakeside dreamin'

masterlist

pairing: jedi general anakin skywalker x f!reader

summary: anakin reminisces about your lives together while he's away fighting in the clone wars

warnings: heavy angst, mentions of canon events in TCW, canon typical mentions of warfare, some smut/spice, mentions of sex, minors DNI 18+ only

a/n: to the one anon who requested this maybe a year ago? i saw clone wars anakin and it was over for my brain 🫠 anyway love you guys and leave a comment or reblog if you liked this! 🥺

song pairing: love on the brain (rihanna)

The war was taking its toll.

Day after day, planet after planet, all Anakin knew now was his place on the battlefield. And his role in leading the victory for the Jedi and the Republic, even though their dogma preached peace, not violence. Every skirmish brought a new kind of horror to his once uncomplicated life, whether it was watching Separatist droids and clone troopers alike, cut down as easily as marsh reeds, or the simple fact that his relationship with the Force was dwindling towards something impure. Something he couldn’t make sense of, and would surely raise more questions than answers if he were to confide in his Masters. It wasn’t that he contemplated reaching towards the Dark side, or thought of the kind of evil only the Sith could endure; it was more like an isolating numbness that spread from within, and before long, Anakin felt the cloud settle over his mind.

He was tired of seeing smoke �� the kind that billowed in every direction, stinking of despair and lost hope on his front, despite the war turning to the Republic’s favour. It was the sound of unending blaster fire and the repetitive ignition of his lightsaber that haunted his nightmares, and with only the company of his clone legion, his Padawan Ahsoka and the occasional appearance from Obi-Wan, he felt himself starting to slip.

He was overwhelmed, and encumbered with burden. 

Never before had he experienced such guilt, anger and suffering — towards his army, towards the civilians caught in the crossfire, and towards his relationship with you. 

The secret life the two of you led, away from the Order, felt like something out of another galaxy, another lifetime. It was as if eons had passed since he’d last seen you, and yet the world was constantly evolving — not towards freedom, but into a more destructive version of its past. Even for a Jedi General (and, one could argue, because he was a Jedi General), Anakin had little comfort, and much less sway in which systems he visited and what he took part in. Seeing you was absolutely out of the question, but it wasn’t like he bothered to even ask, out of fear of inviting a lecture from Obi-Wan, or Maker-forbid, an audience with Master Yoda. 

At least things like facilitating training for the Onderon rebels allowed him to feel more of himself, and to an extent, a sort of unity with the Council, but all of that was quickly replaced by the more sinister side of the Separatist Alliance, such as the trainwreck on Zygerria. Liberation didn’t exist there. Not until Anakin showed up.

It was these events that really compelled him to look inwards, to not just seek the Force’s guidance, but to use it in tandem with a coping mechanism that would get him through the war. 

And so the vignettes began. Slowly, at first. 

It started off as little glimpses of your life together, slices of euphoric nostalgia that weaved their way into Anakin’s being. He didn’t realise just how much he yearned for you; not simply the way your skin felt on his, but the pureness of your energy, the reminder that good truly did exist in this world. As much as these images were a solace to his sanity, they brought about a sense of malaise. Contrition, actually, if he sought the Force for the purpose of clarity. Even though it all existed in his head, allowing himself these indulgences felt like once again, he was breaking Code. 

But could it really have been that bad, if it honed his focus? If it drew him back to the bigger picture, of the why? Reminding himself of who it was he fought for didn’t erase the atrocities, but it gave him that flicker of hope, knowing that the sum of his actions equalled a better world for you. 

And some selfish, miniscule part of him figured that if he could lead the victory, he’d be pardoned when the Order inevitably found out about the life the two of you shared. It isn’t as if no-one already knew. He was sure Ahsoka was aware. Rex, too. He doubted when it came to Obi-Wan, but then again very little got past his Master. 

While the memories of you lay fresh before his eyes, they seemed to sharpen at specific points throughout the day; often in the thick of battle, or when he woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in a cold sweat, nothing but thin shafts of moonlight illuminating his body. It’s like they were stitched perfectly amongst the real action, scattered at perfect intervals that jerked his body into manoeuvre.

The sweetest images had always featured the lake. 

Armed with nothing more but his wits, his back pressed against the cold, wet stone in a cave on Vanqor, he reminisced about that first night with you by the lakeside. The sweet smell of wildflowers carried in the breeze, heightened by his affinity for the Force. He recalled the gentle lapping of the waves on the shore, and how the two moons cast their milky glow upon the shimmering surface of the water. And you — radiant, almost ethereal in the soft light, and the way your lips brushed against his neck, filling him with the kind of heat that flooded all at once. Not even the screech of the pursuing gundark could have interrupted this moment in time. He felt his breathing go ragged, because he remembered what happened next. He gritted his teeth, thinking about the way he moved inside you, and how you tangled your fingers in his hair, pressing chaste kisses to his mouth, his chest, whispering his name in sinful bliss. The gundark didn’t stand a chance. Not when Anakin’s motivation for getting out alive laid in sweet promise, embedded in these visions.

His name felt the most natural rolling off your tongue, nevermind that that was truly the last real thing he possessed, unmarred by time and the influence of the Jedi. In that moment, when you’d taken him over the edge with you, crying his name so loud he swore someone had heard, he knew he’d give it over to you if you’d asked.

He thought of the lake again when he was in Felucia, crouched low amongst the sillum. His lightsaber grew heavy in his hand, the ridges suddenly awkward in his palm, but the grip he’d started to lose on his lifeline gave rise to something he couldn’t ignore. 

It was another temperate day and the sun had created the most brilliant reflections on the surface of the lake. With the grasses and trees swaying in the wind, Anakin closed his eyes, reaching out with the Force. He didn’t prod or poke, but rather he cast a wide net, a delicate caress, to connect with the life that teemed. It sang to him in a multi-layered harmony, acting as a prominent reminder that the Force flowed in all living things. And when his eyes fluttered open, he watched you carefully as you walked towards the water, your feet crunching on the smooth pebbles that made up the beach. You turned around to give him a dazzling smile, moving with deliberation to slip off your clothes. Your laughter echoed in the crisp air as you dived into the lake, disappearing under a swathe of emerald green, only to resurface in the middle with a large grin plastered to your face. He didn’t hesitate to jump in, to shed his clothing on the spot. A shudder ran down his spine at the thought of what happened shortly after. 

Sometimes it was hard to return to the present, to remember that he’d sleep alone that night while you were only just waking up, systems away, most likely after another fitful slumber.  There were times where he thought these visions would serve no other purpose than to derail him, when the temptation of your touch shadowed his desire for victory. These moments guided him to channel the Force within, so as to remind himself of why he was doing this in the first place. Because it was more than just a coping mechanism. It was an anchor. A thrumming pulse point. A gentle acknowledgement of the life he wanted to come back to.

It’s then that he wondered when enough would be enough, when the war would come to a stalemate, as it so often did in their history. The tide was turning, and he knew it.

And there it was again, that kernel of hope, that ember of light that shone in the depths of his soul. Even reduced to a ghost in his memory, you were tangible, so tangible now. He wouldn’t let the Separatists win. He couldn’t, because there was too much at stake. And so if thinking of you, in these ways, helped him remember that, he wasn’t going to stop. 

Not for anyone. 

[acourtofbooksandshadows]

Alliance Maker - Chapter 5

Summary: Training leads to many unexpected events. With even more questions forming within the heads of the Inner Circle and the Valkyrie.

Pairing: Slow burn!Azriel x Afab!Reader

Warnings: sparring, weapons, fire, anxiety, swearing, ritas, I think that's it.

Word count: 1476

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Training the next morning started out well. You impressed the group quickly with your advanced skill and ability to work in a team. Even though Nesta trusted you without hesitation Cassian had been wearily eyeing you all morning. You could feel his eyes practically burning holes in your skin. Emerie and Gwyn had been quick to trust you however, full faith in the judgment of their best friend. 

“Here, why don’t you show me what you can do hand to hand?” Emerie took the sword you had been slashing a dummy with and set it on the sword rack. You gave her a thankful smile for saving you from the lull of boredom you had found yourself in. She grabbed a few bandages from the table and divided them between herself and you. You slipped your gloves off and began to wrap your hands as you spoke to her about the camp she came from. She gave you a few mild answers not yet ready to dive into the full conversation of the hell she went through there everyday. 

“I’m ready whenever you are.” You placed yourself in a casual position, feet shoulder width apart and your hands on your hips. The winged Female came to stand in front of you and took up a defensive position. Her wings spread out behind her, feet spread apart and hands at the ready. You quirked one eyebrow up at her before nodding at her, giving her the go ahead to attack. She was rushing forwards in an instance, you sidestepped her first swing throwing your leg out grazing her shin enough to have her stumbling for a few steps. 

“Come on now Emerie, you don’t need to go easy on me. I can handle it.” The tone of your voice was teasing as she let out a sigh. Her feet finally steadied her and she was twirling around ready to attack again. You could see Nesta and Gwyn out of the corner of your eye, watching you both as you bobbed and weaved past each other. You had your wings out but kept them tightly tucked in behind you.  

“I’ll buy the first one that lands a hit, a drink at Rita’s later.” Nesta’s steely voice spoke up as you dodged another punch from the female in front of you. 

“What is Rita’s?” You threw the question out for one of them to answer. But your eyes remained on Emerie. You could feel sweat starting to coat your heated skin. 

“It’s a pleasure hall down in town.” Gwyn’s light voice spoke from beside Nesta. A good balance from the coldness that Nesta’s voice held. A numbing sensation started to prick along your limbs. 

“I could definitely use a drink.” You and Emerie both said at the same time, causing a laugh from the four of you. You urged the ache starting to develop inside you to dull. The sensation wasn’t new to you but it didn’t make it any better when it happened. 

“Sorry Emerie.” As the words left your mouth Emerie hesitated, you used the opportunity to grab the front of her shirt. Your fingers fisting the material tightly before you shoved some of your weight into her and she slammed against the floor. 

“Fuck.” was the only word that came from her mouth as she struggled to catch her breath. The impact of the fall had knocked the air right out of her. You let out a muffled grunt as you fell to your knees beside her feet. Your hands wrapped around your middle as your wings unraveled and enclosed you within them. 

A burning sensation started to overtake your body. You could feel something trying to claw its way out of your skin. Desperate for air to brush against it. The clothes laying upon your skin started to feel suffocating. The leather seemingly choking the oxygen from within you. A sob wracked your body as your fingers flexed and your nails itched. Your vision went in and out of focus as you tried to ground yourself back to your body.

“She’s burning up.” You weren’t sure who said it, or where they were at but all that you knew was that the words rang true. You could feel yourself starting to lose control. Your teeth ground against each other in an attempt to clamp down on the fire within your veins. A shaky breath left your body, steam coming out as the air left your lips.   

“Can you hear me?” A voice that seemed to be much closer than before asked you. But the only answer you could give was a twitch of your wings that were still placed around you. A black and blue shield, guarding you from prying eyes or guarding the prying eyes from the wrath you were fighting against. The hands wrapped around your middle came up to squeeze the sides of your head as a pounding throb smacked into the insides of your skull. 

Then your body shuttered in relief as cooling touches surrounded you. Brushing along your skin and weaving through your hair. Your lips parted in a moan as one of the cooling touches laid upon your sweat covered neck. The fingers that were squeezing your temples slipped away as more of the cooling touch came to rest upon them in their place. Moments passed as you basked in the icy feeling against your skin. Your hearing became clearer, the whispers from around you making you nervous. 

The cooling touches started to frantically move along you. Seemingly fighting against an unknown source. Then you felt the touches almost reluctantly pulling away from you. You blinked your eyes open slowly, catching a glimpse of black tendrils slipping underneath your wings. You fluttered the makeshift shields open hesitantly. You scanned your surroundings quickly, eyes landing on the forms of three females kneeling in front of you worry, hesitation and determination held within their respective gazes. 

Then your eyes flickered behind their crouched forms and took in the two males standing behind them. You shot back as your eyes connected to the unfamiliar one standing besides Cassian. You had gotten used to his apprehensive gaze throughout dinner last night and training this morning so it didn’t deter you now. However the look of fury that was being directed at you through hazel eyes had fear spiking through you. Your body was on high alert as you stared at him. The black tendrils that were with you moments before raced along his skin, grazing his ears. He stepped forward and even with the Females dividing you from him you still found yourself scooting farther away from him. Your entire being humming, wings twitching anxiously. 

“It’s okay you’re safe.” your gaze finally broke away from the stranger to the Females kneeling in front of you. It was Emerie who had spoken, her hands held out in front of her, showing you she wasn’t a threat. Her voice was dripping with worry. 

“What happened?” Nesta’s determined question had you digging your nails into the rock beneath you, welcoming the pain the action caused you. 

“That happens sometimes when I go too long between exerting all of my energy.” You knew it would be a waste of time and breath to lie to her so you had decided to go with the truth. 

“Are you okay?” A hesitant Gwyn piped up between Emerie and Nesta. 

“I am now, but I’m going to need a place to blow off some steam soon. If not, I'll go through that again.” You could still feel a dull ache within your body, a reminder to expel the pent up rage boiling within you soon. Cassian and the handsome stranger shared a look before they both nodded their heads. The silent conversation caused your stomach to twist in knots. 

“Let’s go and get clean and we can have lunch. Then maybe we can show you around the house.” Nesta stood from the floor and extended a hand your way which you immediately accepted. She helped to pull you up and you steadied on your feet quickly. You let her lead you away from the training space, Gwyn and Emerie both hot on your heels. As you slipped out however you heard two voices behind you. 

“I thought you were away Azriel.” You knew that deep voice was Cassian as you’d already accustomed yourself to the sound of his voice.

“I was in the middle of an interrogation when all of my fucking shadows slipped away from me in a mad dash. I followed them to see what was happening and it landed me here.” He had an annoyed edge to his tone. Clearly upset with being interrupted while he was close to getting the information he needed. That was the last you heard of the conversation before being whisked away.

A/N: I gave you guys some Azriel!!! I hope you all liked this part. As always likes, reblogs, comments and follows are welcome. I'm excited to get into the next part soon! I might go through and rewrite a bit of this because I wrote this so late in the day so it might be a little delirious at parts lol.

Tags(open): @wolfsbane44 @moonlwghts @maddietheshoe @hyemishii @fanboyluvr @kmc1989 @acourtofinkandpapyrus @luvmoo

[foreverrandomwritings]

🎂Piece of cake: share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

M's Taste of Twenty-Five Masterlist

Well I am really excited for Alliance Maker. I think exploring more of Azriel and Nesta with the reader is going to be really interesting.

I am also really excited to continue Controversially Young Girlfriend because Natasha is hot hot hot. Plus @sylviebell gives me so many amazing ideas.

I'm excited about Actions Speak Louder Than Words because Fanboy has a special little place in my heart and this series is really filling that space nicely.

Lastly I am unbelievably excited for all the WIP's for this event.

[jacobwren]

"The collective body of progressivism as we have known it in the Global North is experiencing a contraction. We are seeing the surge towards social change that ignited in 2020 being both counterattacked by conservatives and abandoned/walked back by liberals. The particular brand of ultra identity politics-based political thinking that dominated liberal culture through the 2010s has been revealed to have severe flaws in its capacity to shape effective coalition building and movement towards change. Many people found themselves suddenly radicalized but lacking adequate tools or structure to create a lasting impact in their own contexts. The Left needs a new strategy. The tools we have been using have served some important purposes, but we are fragmented. We need a way to create stronger connections and powerful alliances across different demographics - we need to appeal more strongly to people who are being crushed and exploited by capitalism but are being pulled down the rabbit hole of libertarianism and fascism instead of towards collectivism. We must learn to speak their language and connect with their concerns while inviting them into ours. We need a clear focus on the levers of material change - labor organizing, governance, healthcare policy, migration law, education reform and environmental law. The Left also needs clear targets: The billionaire class. Crony politicians. The corporations that are systematically destroying the air, water, and land that we need to live, starting with the homelands of Indigenous and racialized people, as well as the overall Global South. We need a strategy that is clear enough for everyone to understand and compelling enough for everyone to get on board with. We need cultural workers and narrative-makers who are willing to amplify and translate the message. And we must win." - Kai Cheng Thom

[capricornlevi]

marriage of convenience nanami in which you start off as rivals of sorts, both overworked and underpaid employees of a soulless corporation where you have to fight tooth and nail to succeed.

and that aforementioned fighting results in long, long days in the office, weekends spent toiling away at your desk, countless hours of overtime that keeps you from any semblance of a social life. your rivalry eventually turns into an uneasy alliance -- you see each other more often than you do any other human being, and so agree to keep things civil. friendly, even. this certainly helps when you're sharing the same cramped office space for fourteen hours a day.

it gets to the point where your respective families become gravely concerned. over the holidays, your parents had sat you down and scolded you for what seemed like an eternity, going on and on about how they never see you, how you haven't had a relationship since before college, how it's not healthy to be so obsessed with work.

"what did they expect?" you'd asked nanami -- rhetorically, of course -- while in line for the coffee maker one morning. "they know my career expectations. this is nothing new."

"if it's any consolation, mine are the same," nanami mumbles, filling his mug until it's nearly overflowing. he lifts it, takes a long sip, and asks a question you could have never expected.

"want to tell them that we're together?"

you're glad he was first to reach the coffee maker, because if you were in the middle of taking a sip, you'd likely have choked in front of the entire office.

"what is wrong with you?"

he rolls his eyes at your outrage. "we wouldn't actually be a couple, obviously. we'd just ... tell them we are. show up to an event or two and put on smiling faces. if you wanted to really sell it ... we could get you a ring."

you're certain that the look of your face conveys your utter ... confusion, shock, bewilderment, because nanami clarifies before taking a second sip.

"just a fake one. we could say we eloped over new years, that we couldn't wait any longer. that we're so happy with life we need some time to ourselves as a honeymooning couple."

"you're insane."

"but i have a point."

and you hate to admit it, every cell in your body tells you it's a bad idea, but you think you could get on board.

fake dating could get messy, right? you'd either have to constantly update them on your relationship or fake a breakup, neither would make your life easier.

it's unhinged. it needs a lot of work before you could even consider executing it.

but you find yourself wanting to say yes.

[satoshi-mochida]

Touhou Dungeon Maker: The Labyrinth of Heart announced for PC

Gematsu Source

Publisher Alliance Arts, and publisher and developer Unknown X have announced roguelike dungeon builder Touhou Dungeon Maker: The Labyrinth of Heart for PC (Steam). A release date was not announced.

Here is an overview of the game, via its Steam page:

About

Touhou Dungeon Maker: The Labyrinth of Heart is a roguelike x tower defense style dungeon management RPG. Strengthen characters, set traps, and keep fighting off massive numbers of incoming enemies.

Create your own ideal dungeon, survive for 100 days after the attack, and unravel the mysteries of the magical dungeon.

Story

Suddenly, dungeons began to appear and spread throughout Gensokyo. Once you enter the dungeon, your mind will be deranged and you will be attacked by countless phantoms of girls.

If nothing is done, the entire land of Gensokyo will be covered by these dungeons, and both humans and monsters will lose their homes.

The girls who stood up to solve the problem were those with the “ability to influence the mind,” who could resist the mental derangement and subdue the illusions…

Game System

-Create Your Ideal Dungeon

Befriend with girls, strengthen them, set traps, and fight off the phantoms that attack you.

Once you have defeated all the phantoms, you will receive various rewards to strengthen your dungeon.

-Aim for the 100th Day and Unravel the Mysteries of the Magical Dungeon

Survive for 100 days, repeating to get rewards and defeat fantoms.You will receive a key item “mysterious graffiti” depending on the level you have reached.By collecting the graffiti, you will be able to find out the cause of the anomalies in this game.

-Develop Your Own Character and Challenge the Dungeons Over and Over

Each playable character has its own unique abilities.

Use the experience value you gain when the game is over to unlock new abilities and play the game with a greater advantage.

Characters

Six characters from Touhou series including below will appearing in the game, including:

Reisen Udongein Inaba

Satori Komeiji

Hatano Kokoro

This game is produced under the official license of the smartphone application Dungeon Maker released by GAMECOASTER.

Watch the announcement teaser trailer below.

Teaser Trailer 

English

Japanese

Simplified Chinese