#rose is having a bad time

[theluckywizard]

In the Shattering of Things, Ch. 66: Insolence

Summary: In the lead up to the peace talks at Halamshiral, Rose must navigate her strained, unresolved relationship with Cullen and settle into her role as leader as the consequences of her choices dog her and pressure to succeed mounts.

Fic Summary: Lady Rose Trevelyan's idle, aristocratic life blinks out in a haze of irrelevance when the breach destroys the Conclave. She may be soft and coddled when she joins the Inquisition, but there's a fierceness inside her she's yet to fully recognize. Armed with only a few relevant skills and the mark that makes her a legend, she is thrust onto a path delivering hope where it’s long been scorched away and finds comfort in the grumpy, handsome stick in the mud charged with her protection and training. As she stumbles her way across southern Thedas, she begins to realize she's tangled at the center of machinations she barely understands, and she's not alone in that. Enter Hawke.

Excerpt under the cut 👇

“Fifty-one royals? Leliana, please tell me that number is in error,” says Cullen, practically choking as he looks over the budget for the affair. We’d been circulating the paper, and though I’m only starting to grasp the scale of the debt we’ve accrued in repairing Skyhold and rebuilding our army, Leliana’s sum is astonishing.

“They’re well worth the money.”

“Five times the fee of the other two combined? Surely this money could be better spent. I could buy a dozen ballistas for that amount.”

“If you can root out an assassin and collect vital secrets at an Orlesian ball with ballistas, you may have an argument.”

“It’s outrageous.” Cullen has been surly since he walked in the door, his brow gathered in a permanent frown. He’s in a dark enough mood that I have no desire to look at him, but professional courtesy requires it. And by his pained glances in my direction, he’s making the same agonizing effort.

Leliana counters. “We’re not just buying the services of spies in the kitchen and the guard. It’s not cheap to secure the work of those who can finagle access to the ball and the talks proper. The man I’ve hired is bringing along his retired partner. They’re unmatched. Nor will they provoke suspicion. They belong at the ball more readily than any of us.”

“And who might these assets be?” Cullen asks. “Andraste’s mercy.”

“Bards. Actors. Fidencio Frye and his associate, Gaubert L’Incroyable.”

“Fidencio Frye?” breathes Josephine, her hand alighting on her breast like the name awakened her very soul. 

“I thought you’d be excited, Josie,” notes Leliana.

“What do we need to know about them?” I ask.

Josie answers in a rush of unfettered enthusiasm. “Fidencio’s performances are inspired. Breathtaking. I last saw him in Sévigny —I’ve seen that probably three times with different casts and no one brought such tortured authenticity to the role. No one.” I’m familiar with the play but not the actor himself.

“Profoundly useful,” remarks Cullen drily.

“It is actually,” argues Leliana. “Such capable acting is part and parcel to bard work. They’ll be eyes and ears in places we can’t quite access. There’s no magnet for secrets quite like celebrity. People will be itching to flaunt their knowledge to them. To ingratiate themselves. We need them.”

“It is thrilling, no?” says Josephine, glancing at me.

“I suppose this is what you have in mind for Hawke as well?” I ask, still avoiding Cullen’s scowling eyes. “I don’t see a line item for him.”

“Hawke is— something different,” says Leliana. Certainly an understatement. “He’s no bard. He’s got a useful set of talents though. We need distractions and a way to move information around the party undetected. Josie and I think he’s the man for the job.”

“And you’ve already asked him?” 

DAFF CREW TAG LIST

“Not yet. He and I— well. Let’s just say that I think you’ll be more persuasive than any of us, Rose,” says Leliana. It’s such a pointed remark that I glance at her twice. When her eyebrow twitches and the corner of her mouth turns I become certain that she knows. Maker, it’s Leliana . Perhaps she’s known all along.

Tagging @monocytogenes for allowing me to borrow her excellent bards Fidencio and Gaubert! You can read their stories here!

Read the rest here!

Start the fic here 🏹

@warpedlegacy | @rakshadow | @rosella-writes | @effelants | @bluewren | @breninarthur | @ar-lath-ma-cully | @dreadfutures |

@ir0n-angel | @inquisimer | @crackinglamb | @nirikeehan | @oxygenforthewicked | @about2dance | @exalted-dawn-drabbles | @melisusthewee | @blarrghe | @agentkatie | @delicatefade

[amelia-yap]

guys v10 leak

[uldren-sov]

the reality (not the expectation) of what it's like sleeping with Seven Lawless. - Camy Rose ~dated five years ago~

Comm'd the amazing and talented @aevari tysm bestie!! Of yet another meme of my OC Camy and @infamous-if 's most divisive clingy sleeper Seven Lawless

Blank version under the cut!

[nixoon-again]

putting her in outfits

[mushroommans-cache]

Back in the Saddle 😎🤙🏼

[doverstar]

actually I love Tentoo and he is the Doctor and it was the only ending for Rose that worked and it is a huge gift to be able to have the man she loves grow old with her, they were always heading for that, y'all be quiet. I 100% understand the angst but it's okay, they're okay, good ending-

[thirdeyeblue]

“Nine would have treated Martha better than Ten did”

I need to talk about this argument that never seems to stop circulating.

Note: Not a venomous/anti post. There’s more than enough of that across fandom spaces as is, and this is supposed to be a place for ✨sweet, blissful escapism✨

When making this argument, people seem to envision a scenario in which Nine never met Rose.

While I can appreciate a good hypothetical, recognizing Rose's significance to the Doctor (Nine and Ten) is essential to understanding why things with Martha played out the way they did in the first place.

In the third series, the Doctor is grieving. This grief is deliberately threaded into nearly every script, whether spoken aloud or not (and these are just a few examples):

He's burning in Rose’s wake the entire time Martha travels with him, which is why it’s so frequently called upon: It’s 100% deliberate in framing his grief. He grieved as Nine too, of course— having been fresh on the heels of the Time War — but then he met Rose, which changed everything.

Back then, he was still a rude, traumatized pain in the ass, but we watch Rose soften more of those jagged edges with every episode as they grow closer; as he lets his guard down and forms a deep connection with her.

He falls in love (against his better judgment) and it's game over.

And yes: provided S1E1 had been titled 'Martha', one can realistically assume things might have unfolded similarly to how they did with Rose. However, it wouldn’t have been that way just because the Doctor was Nine and “Nine was different” — it would be because he wasn’t already in love with someone else. The same can't be said for the start of S3.

Think of it like this: if Rose AND Martha had been in that cellar — if Nine had taken both of them along with him in S1 — we’d eventually be looking at the most melodramatic love triangle ever, what with him living in close quarters with two brilliant, gorgeous, compassionate young women... But Doctor Who is plenty “soap opera” as is with just one woman in the TARDIS.

(I certainly wouldn’t object to reading that fic, though)

Now, regarding the unrequited elephant in the room…

His inability to be romantic with Martha isn’t because he thinks her lesser, nor is it for lack of compatibility. It isn't because Rose is any better than her. It certainly isn’t just because he’s Ten.

It’s really only for one reason, which can't be denied — and now I’m a broken record:

He is still in love with Rose.

(cut from a tenrosedaily gif)

Nine is Ten, and Ten is only such a mess in S3 because he’s just lost the love of his life. Martha merely got caught in the crosshairs of a volatile Time Lord in mourning, and yes — it sucks. Absolutely.

But it also feels dismissive to chalk Ten and Martha’s relationship up to little more than some sort of mindless dance of pining, jealousy, and toxicity.

Ten trusted Martha with his life over and over again — and hers, with him. He constantly praised her brilliance, happily carting her around time and space with no intention of letting her go. In the BBC’s extended universe of novels/comics/cartoons/etc, there’s so much depth to their relationship: love and trust and trauma and sacrifice. They had their own special bond as mates, their own complexities — so it’s a bummer that it's forever overshadowed by the other things.

I’m not denying that there was a lot of stuff that sucked/was for sure toxic about Ten's S3 behavior, but so many of the things I've seen him catching flak for can be directly attributed to being A Clueless Fucking Alien Idiot (not a trait that’s unique to Ten) — as well as his flat-out obliviousness to Martha’s feelings.

So yes, I agree: if Rose never existed, he would have treated Martha differently as Nine. He also would have treated her differently as Ten. Certainly.

But Rose did exist, and when discussing canon, it matters.

“He tells me that he absolutely, 100% loves Rose... He tells me how my daughter; my wonderful, beautiful, clever little girl saved him from himself before… And he says that’s all because of me! I made her into the Rose Tyler that saved him.”

-Jackie Tyler, Flight Into Hull!

Martha got the short end of the stick in S3. She came round at the wrong place and time, but that doesn't mean it was all bad. It doesn't mean the Doctor didn’t adore her. It certainly doesn't mean the time they spent together was wasted or worthless. They were brilliant!

Sure, he could be a twat, but let it be known that he was a twat with Rose as well, both as Nine and Ten. I’m sure Tentoo can be plenty infuriating, too. So while I'll defend Ten (and Tentoo) into the ground forever and ever and ever, I'll concede that he's fucked up.

The Doctor is a certified Pain In The Ass. It’s one of the things I love so much about this character — dynamics.

But never forget that Martha was goddamn tough as nails and overcame every bit of it. She moved on with her life, and the Doctor moved on with his. One can only pray that, when they inevitably drag her back onto the show (which feels inevitable if I'm honest), we see at once that she's been living her best life for all these years.

[roseytoesy]

since I’ve noticed a bunch of negative energy on tumblr lately ima post something sweet.

I found the love of my life because of vore. I like vore because of the way it comforted me during times when I felt so alone in my own head. That online sonas and stories I would insert myself into and daydream about being so wanted that I’d be devoured and held on all sides. So cared for and loved and appreciated.

vore can be whatever we want and so can our tumblr experience. Let’s keep making things despite the drama. If people wanna whine let them. Just ignore and move on. They will shut up eventually.

I love this community despite the ups and downs. Maybe one day I’ll draw shitty little stick figures or rough outlines of vore on my phone to share and try and make someone laugh.

just keep going. That’s how we win

[clockwork-ashes]

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part IX

Find Part I here :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge, huge thank you to the lovely @bettdraws who literally deserves all the credit and whose post inspired me to start writing this. I could not stop thinking about this headcanon, and it was so kind of you to let me try and make a story from it :)

And a HUGE thank you to everyone reading! ALSO please look at this post, I gasped it's so lovely. All of @teddyhoneybear's moodboards are stunning <3

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole / @wishfulimaginings / @goldenmagnolias / @emmers-bens123 /

Part X >>

Lucien walked beside Elain as he continued to lead them towards the loveliest library in the Forest House. She was so unusually close that the stone hallway felt too small, the walls closing in around him. If he wished, he could have brushed the fingers of his hand against her knuckles. 

Lucien tried not to glance at his mate, but failed rather miserably. He could see Elain’s pretty brown eyes taking in her surroundings carefully, trying to track where they were going. Lucien knew from experience that it would take Elain and Cora both some time before the two females grew accustomed to the sprawling complex, a city in its own right. 

Cora walked silently on the stones just a bit behind them and Lucien wondered briefly what kind of shoes she was hiding beneath her long skirts. Her steps were noiseless, like she was floating, almost as though Lucien and Elain were alone. 

Perhaps involuntarily, Elain moved even closer to him. Lucien nearly offered her his arm, but thought better of it. He did not think she would appreciate it, but Lucien could still feel the phantom grip of her hand on his own as they had been escorted to their shared suite the night before. 

Thoughtlessly, Lucien had left her alone when he had woken up, and while he was sure Eris had slightly exaggerated Elain’s words, he knew that Elain did not like the fact that he had declined to tell her where he planned to go.  

Through their bond, Lucien could feel her frustration with him over it, a slow thrum over that bridge between two souls. It had come as a shock to Lucien when Elain had agreed to go to the library, even with her lady’s maid joining. 

Elain was clearly uneasy with their current predicament, and Lucien could not even blame her. 

“The Autumn Court is lovely,” Elain politely offered in the quiet. She did not look towards him, keeping her gaze steady and ahead.

Lucien nodded in response. The court he had been raised in was genuinely beautiful, stunning, especially for someone who had never visited before. Lucien did not mention how cruel of a place it could be. “I always thought so.” 

Lucien said nothing more, unsure if Elain was truly looking for a conversation to start between them, or if she simply wanted the awkward silence that had befallen to end. 

Lucien ran a hand through his hair, the gesture a nervous habit. He caught as Elain seemingly stopped breathing, her heartbeat racing. 

With a furrowed brow, Lucien looked at her, hesitating to ask if she was alright. 

Much to Lucien’s relief, Cora spoke before he did. With hurried steps, she caught up to Elain, hardly worried. “Forgive me, but if I might speak out of turn,” her voice carried in the hall, her accent thick with the rhythm of the Hewn City. 

“That’s nonsense,” Elain mumbled, her shoulders relaxing. 

Lucien felt his lips turn up, the smallest of smiles at how Elain did not even consider that Cora was technically working for the Night Court. He could hear the way Cora’s tone changed immediately, suddenly more comfortable. 

“How does anyone manage to get around this place?” She made a careless gesture with her hand, the golden thread along her sleeve flashing. “All of it looks the same,” she addressed him with a dark brow raised. 

Lucien noticed for the first time how lovely she was, his focus almost always having been entirely on Elain since the moment he had seen his mate in his father’s throne room. Cora’s jaw was sharp, her lips full, an elegant bump just on the bridge of her nose. Her dark brows framed even darker eyes, a blush staining her high cheekbones when Lucien faced her fully.   

“You get used to it,” he responded warmly. “It takes some time, but I’m sure you’ll find your way around easily enough by the week’s end.” 

“Callum Vanserra escorted me to the servant’s quarters yesterday.” Cora tucked a long strand of hair behind her pointed ear. Lucien took note of how she did not add a title to his brother’s name and he liked her boldness, her blatant disregard for another court’s prince. “I think he led me past the library, but I can’t tell if we even walked by here,” she added with a nervous laugh. 

Lucien offered Cora a genuine smile. “Remind me, then, to take you to your room before Elain and I return to ours.” 

“Callum is your older brother?” Elain’s question caught Lucien by surprise, a knowing smile flashed along Cora’s lips as the other female turned away from him. 

Elain cleared her throat awkwardly, as if asking the question had caught her by surprise as well. Lucien could feel a small burst of possessiveness flashing along the bond, the way Elain urged him to pay attention to her with a tug on that invisible string.  

Jealousy. 

“Callum is third-born, practically ancient.” Lucien looked to see how Elain would react. Her eyes were wide with curiosity, the weight of her full regard too heavy for him. An amazing actress, she hid her emotions so well, Lucien thought. He faced away from Elain once more. “He was a child during the first war, and was raised in Xian, by my maternal grandmother.” 

Elain nodded along, interest lining her expression. Lucien could see her from the corner of his eye and decided that was much better, her beauty easier to bear. Like looking straight at the sun, painful and yet the desire was there. 

“Will you tell me about the others?” Elain asked, looking up at him, her steps in time with his own. 

Lucien shrugged, he hated all his brothers in equal measure. “There’s not much to tell.” He felt another pull on the bond and could not help facing his mate.

“I should probably know more about your family,” he watched as a scarlet blush bloomed on Elain’s pale cheeks. “We are getting married, after all.” 

A genuine laugh spilled from Lucien’s lips at her tone. “I suppose you’re right.”

“It happens on occasion,” she clipped, her blush deepening in colour. 

Lucien tore his gaze from Elain for a moment to flash Cora a concerned look, wondering whether he should speak in front of the other female about his brothers. His golden eye whirred. 

“I won’t repeat a word of this to anyone,” Cora rushed to reassure him, noticing the way Lucien glanced at her. “My lips are completely sealed.” 

Lucien ran his hand through his hair, sighing. He decided it hardly mattered what Elain’s lady’s maid knew in regards to his family. He turned his attention back to Elain, only to find her looking at him intently. “You haven’t met Felix, but he’s only a few years older than me.”

“You were close with him.” Elain’s statement suggested that was the only logical conclusion in her mind. 

“Not at all,” Lucien scoffed. “He only ever looks out for himself, silver-tongued, a perfect emissary. Felix can convince the most stubborn of nobles to see his point of view, sway their opinions in his favour.” 

Elain hummed in understanding, but Lucien still did not think she could completely grasp the twisted relationship he had with his brothers. 

“Felix is on good terms with Ronan, I think.” Lucien could never be too sure where the loyalty of each Autumn prince lay, or how quickly they might turn on one another if the right circumstances were to arise. “Ronan works closely with my father, his flames strong enough to make him a worthy contender for the crown.” He frowned as Elain silently coaxed him to go on with only her eyes. “Like I said, there’s not much to tell.” 

Lucien continued walking, the library’s carved wooden doors only a few steps away. He did not need to raise his hand to open them, despite how heavy they were, glad that they were still unlocked and open to anyone who wished to enter.

“And Eris?” Elain asked, her brows raised. Surely she had heard about his eldest brother’s reputation, Lucien thought, but he was the only one of his brother’s Elain had truly interacted with. It made sense that Elain would want to know more.  

Lucien almost stopped in his tracks as he considered her question. “Eris is…” 

A snake. 

The male who raised me. 

My favourite brother. 

“Eris is Eris,” he said with a shrug, the gesture and his statement so ridiculous he winced. With his eldest brother, everything was achingly more complicated. “The best and worst of Autumn, sure to be my father’s heir.” 

“When you scowl, you look like him.” Elain’s statement was a throwaway, hardly considered, but Lucien frowned. He slowed his steps so that she could walk past him and into the library, Cora still at her side. 

Lucien followed after them just in time to catch Elain marvelling at the sight before her. 

There were countless towering shelves pushed against the walls and in neat rows all around the large room. The golden spines of some of the rarer books glimmered in the light of the torches, all of them carefully spelled by librarians and priestesses against catching alight. Lucien knew that these were some of the only books in all of Prythian that remained untouched after Amarantha’s reign, and he felt a strange sense of pride for it. 

In the middle of the library, between a pair of shelves, stood the remains of a hollowed tree. The leafless branches seemed to hold up the ceiling, the gnarled trunk shaped in a way that resembled a fireplace. Thick roots created nooks near the trunk, perfect for private reading, before they disappeared like waves on a beach beneath the stone of the floor.  

Lucien waved his hand and flames came to life in the emptied space of the ancient maple. 

Wonder shone bright as sunlight in Elain’s eyes as she turned to Lucien, all sincerity. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” she breathed. 

Lucien smiled at the sight, the way her walls had come down. “Some say that this library rivals even the ones in the Day Court.”  

“I can imagine how that might be the case,” Elain shyly smiled, shaking her head as she walked deeper into the room. 

Lucien watched as Elain reached out, careful fingers tracing the leather bound books on the shelf nearest to her. Brown eyes skimmed the titles of each one, she bit her lower lip as she went on the tips of her toes, peeking at some of the scrolls on a higher row. 

Lucien felt like he was intruding. 

He tried to turn his attention to Cora, but the Night Court female had silently scurried away, leaving Lucien and Elain alone. Lucien decided that Cora was perhaps a meddlesome busybody before he simply followed Elain further into the library. 

Elain pulled a scarlet book off the shelf, the pages yellowed with the passage of time. Lucien raised both his brows as he stood behind her, as he read the looping script on the cover. 

A Complete History of Autumn’s Blood Duels. 

“Looking for some light reading?” 

Elain did not look at Lucien as she flipped through the book, lifting her shoulders in an elegant shrug. “I’ve heard the term once, just curious.” 

“It’s probably full of some very gruesome details,” he warmed. A memory flashed in Lucien’s mind, one from his childhood. He had stolen a similar tome off Callum’s nightstand as a boy, and had had to sleep on the armchair in Eris’s room for days as a result. 

“I’m sure I can handle it.” 

Lucien recognized that there was a bite to Elain’s words, as though she was not simply speaking about the book in her hands. It was a hidden anger, a crack in her ever so carefully crafted mask. All her pleasant smiles, all her words dripping with honeyed falsehoods were no longer directed at Lucien, and he was surprised to realise that he was glad for it. 

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Lucien offered quietly, hoping Elain understood the full meaning behind his response.

Elain’s head snapped up quickly as she turned to look up at him, their eyes locking. The full force of the mating bond was a knife to his chest as her scent washed over him, sweet like blooming jasmine. 

Lucien wondered if Elain felt the same overwhelming pull as her eyes darkened a shade, as she leaned closer only to breathe in deeply. 

Their hearts were beating steadily in a matching rhythm, and Lucien forced himself to take a step back. 

Like a curse shattering, Elain whirled on her heel faerie-quick, holding the book tightly against her chest. 

As though nothing had occurred, Elain went back to focusing solely on the books on the shelves in front of her. Lucien watched her for a moment, before he too turned his attention to a different shelf. 

With a weary sigh, Lucien concluded that if he and Elain could survive their time in Autumn, he would suffer the most torturous two weeks of his immortal life.

[thereaderinsertlady]

I love my sweet boys that I made up completely in my head

[brionysea]

vecna, constructing an elaborate set up for mike's vision where there's a whole hallway of doors in a blacked out hawkins lab and every door has a different trauma behind it because there's too many for the normal process and he refuses to waste any ammo: pick a door, michael

mike, through tears: what are you a fucking gameshow host

[theluckywizard]

Illustration I just finished up for my rogue!Trevelyan x Cullen long fic In the Shattering of Things! He is going through it for reasons.

Click here for the relevant chapter: Ch. 49 The Sweetest Song

[amelia-yap]

AUEGH

[ohmerricat]

the girl in the fireplace is a visually beautiful episode and emotionally impactful and a well written romantic tragedy and scifi mystery. it is also entirely ooc for ten based on how he treats rose throughout and i wish it had never been created and i despise it so much and want to watch it burn. hope that helps

[wonder-worker]

“Studies of Elizabeth Woodville […] have been hampered by the continuing fascination with her brother-in-law, Richard III. The Ricardian [and Yorkist] apologetic is now largely dependent upon the argument that the Woodville family posed such a threat to Richard of Gloucester, and the kingdom as a whole, that Gloucester had little option but to take the throne from his Woodville-dominated nephew. Although this argument has [irregularly] been contested, a reassessment of the queen's role in 1483 has not yet been attempted. Michael Bennett, in his 1987 account [...] still dismissed her as `an inveterate intriguer, capable in her vanity and fecklessness of some remarkable shifts and turns'. But more often she is scarcely mentioned in general histories of the period.”

-J.L. Laynesmith, “English Queenship 1445-1503” (thesis for the degree of DPhil in Medieval Studies, University of York, Centre for Medieval Studies, April 1999)

[achirding]

SatBK Prompt Week - Day 7: Peace

Even knights take days off, and what better way to enjoy a peaceful day that to share stories and laughter over some hot tea and snacks?