with that total solar eclipse coming up on Monday, I’ve been thinking a lot about Jimjam and that ominous armor of his. i’m dying to see it in action, to know if its going to be a positive force, a negative force, or something neutral.
its not uncommon for the emergence of a character’s darker side to be represented through a darkening of their outward appearance, and a lot of things seem to point to Eclipse being a more negative force. Heck, a solar eclipse itself is the moon blocking out the sun, literally a darkening of the daylight. But adding the Triumbric Stones to the amulet has also rewarded Jim with new weapons; “leveling up” as he and Toby put it. Which makes me think Eclipse is a more negative force but that, with a lot of self-control, it can be made into a neutral force. That corruption isn’t inevitable if the user actively works against it.
Of course, that’s a lot easier said than done. I’d be surprised (and disappointed) if Jim comes out totally unscathed and unchanged. “All magic comes with a price” after all, and this is a lot of dark magic he’s dealing with. But dark doesn’t always mean evil. I think Eclipse can be used for good, despite the price.
And if it can, if it really is like “leveling up” for Jim, will Jim ever level up again? I’d be interested to see whether Jim can wield Daylight and Eclipse at the same time and combine their powers together into one super powerful cosmic force in the end, like activating God Mode to take down the last big bad, whoever that is.
(DAI) We know what the companions' greatest fears are thanks to the nightmare demon. But what do you think are their greatest desires?
Cassandra: Love. Not just romance, not just the flowers and the candles and the happily ever love. The familial and the agape. Cassandra wants the sort of meaningful, deep connections with people that she loves and that love her back. We see it in Inquisition, the beginning of those relationships, and it is something that she craves.
Solas: Forgiveness. More than vengeance, more than change, more that the reversal of every mistake or misstep. All of those have their places, but the driving desire of his every action is to be forgiven of the burden of guilt that he carries. He destroyed the Elvhen, shattered the realms of his people, and even though it’s not possible he wants to be forgiven.
Varric: Varric’s desires are complicated because, at the end of the day, they are almost painfully simple and yet totally out of reach. He wants his friends, his tavern, his stories and the stories of others. He wants a happy ending even as he mourns the impossibility of it.
Sera: Even more complicated than Varric Sera’s desires are not bound by one thing or even one person. At the end of the day she wants a world that is fair, that looks upon each person based on their merit, but also she wants a world where everyone has a fair chance. These two things are not compatible, and even as she strives for them she also desperately desires to be accepted. To be cherished for who she is, not what she can do.
Vivienne: Bastien. For such a powerful and politically motivated individual Madame de Fer’s deepest desire is painfully simple. She wants time with the man she loves, time that even her skill could not conjure.
Blackwall: Despite their differences Solas and Blackwall have strikingly similiar desires. But while Solas strives to claim the forgiveness that he desires, Thom Rainier has learned that true forgiveness can only be given, never taken. And Blackwall’s desire for forgiveness is twisted up with both a desire for penance and the deep need for absolution.
Dorian: Dorian’s desires are complicated in their own way, as they are tied up with both ends of the spectrum. He wants to change Tevinter- desperately wants to make it better- but at the same time wants with equal fervor to be accepted into the world of his boyhood as he is. Dorian wants to be accepted and valued, even loved, for his own sake and in the realm that he grew up in and loves. But he also wants to change that realm for the better– thereby forever changing that boyhood dream.
Iron Bull: Order. This is not to be mistaken for the Qun, or for an ordered life. Rather the Iron Bull wants a world where everything can be made into order. Into a sort of sense, but also one that needs work to get there. Like Koslun the Bull enjoys making order out of chaos, enjoys pulling the threads and seeing things fall into place– even if that place is the perfect arch of a well swung sword. It is not a peaceful life he want, not peace and quiet order, but rather a world that can be made sense of and from sense be ordered.
Cole: He wants to help people, but desires are hard for Cole because they are twisted up around other people. It is very likely that he has few or no desires of his own, and those that he does have make little sense to those around him.
Fandom: Descendants Pairing: Jay/Evie, past Harry/Jay Rating: T for blood and a choice word or too. Lame ass pirate battle. Notes: On AO3. This came out longer than I thought it was gonna be. But I like the way it turned out. Enjoy!
Jay watched as his friends jumped into battle, his need to protect them growing. He wanted nothing more than to have them all back and safe in Auradon, away from the dangers of a stray cutlass sword. Sword in hand, he continued on, stopping at the bridge.
Harry Hook grinned at him, approaching with his in hand sword and giving an elaborate bow, “Oh Jay, we’re gonna have some fun aren’t we?”
Jay scoffed, his sword ready at his side, “let’s dance.”
Wild ice blue eyes shone and Harry lunged forward, Jay quickly blocking the blow. “With pleasure traitor!”
The R.O.A.R practices definitely helped as he parried another of Harry’s attacks. The pirates’ maniacal grin continued to taunt him as he pushed down on the sword with his full body, drawing their bodies close.
“Definitely lost yer touch, Jay,” Harry’s eyes bore into him, “ye used to be a wee bit more of a challenge.” He snapped his teeth at the boy, only continuing to grin as Jay scowled.
Jay rolled his eyes, “I’m not Carlos. You can’t intimidate me by trying to bark at me.”
Unsure if I can make a double entry or not, but I’ve got a multi-chapter fanfic
(LawLuWeek themed) running on FF.net in addition to the things I’m posting here. Thought it would be nice to add some more stuff to the mix - so without further ado, Black Gold.
“In which Pirate King Monkey D. Luffy makes a promise, and Yonkou Trafalgar Law is an oblivious idiot.”
Warnings: Not NSFW as of now, but will be in future chapters. Also, swearing. Also, also, bad humor.
S is for Sacrifice (and how sometimes it goes both ways) / 2,600 words
Law’s eyes narrow as they travel over Luffy’s toned body.
Scars. Several of them, old and new. Light bruises almost everywhere. Even a goddamned papercut in his finger. Law scowls as he finishes his medical examination in the small raven, and leans back in his couch.
Authors Note: For the Anon who asked for the showdown between The Squadre and the Night Court. Enjoy!
The mountains around them reminded Rhys of his home. This place, wherever the hell it was, was not Prythian. And these people who stood in front of them, they were the guardians of this realm.
Rhys tried to look into the blonde female’s head. She radiated an aura of power and queenlieness. Somehow, this Demifae was able to push him out of his mind. And by the look of rage in her eyes, she knew Rhys tried to look into her mind.
“There is only one being I know that has that ability, male,” blue flames licked off of her arms, “How do you know of the late Queen Maeve of Dorenlle?”
He had never heard of that name, he told her as much. She narrowed her eyes but her flames flickered out.
His court assembled in a half circle in a field, Rhys stood with Feyre, Cassian and Azriel next to them and Mor and Amren on either side of them and Nesta by Amren, her arms crossed and her eyes cold. He looked at the Queen of Terressen, her eyes hard and chin raised. He had heard stories of the princess turned assassin turned queen. She and her forces even rivaled his for cunning and deadliness.
On either side of her, a fae, her mate, Rhys assumed, with pine green eyes and silver hair was on her right while a black haired blue eyed man was on her right. They were flanked by a witch with gold eyes and a shifter and they were flanked by a male that was near identical to his queen and a lowering dark skinned fae. His eyes were black abysses.
The Queen stepped forward, her mate flanking her, “One chance, High Lord. Concede and we all go home happy.”
Rhys smiled bitterly, “We don’t want a fight, Queen. We were ripped out of our world and sent to this one. But if you want a fight, a fight you shall have, but I would prefer to not ruin my jacket.”
Aelin took in the violet eyes, he was telling the truth. Someone or something ripped him away from his home. Despite him telling the truth, Aelin did not know him or his friends. She will be damned if another force from another world tried to take her home again.
She drew a set of hunting knives, “I will not have my kingdom taken by again by another world’s force.”
The male in front of her smirked bitterly, his hands in his pockets. Most likely a mask to make himself seem uninterested and relaxed. But Aelin could see the calculations running in his eyes, the feline grin on his face as he said, “That is not my intention.”
Aelin rolled her shoulders, her blood starting to sing, “No magic, just blades.” She could feel the magic pouring off of each of them. If this turned into a magic fight, hundreds of miles would be ruined, along with hundreds of lives.
At the male’s nod, the silver eyed creature launched itself at Manon.
Manon ducked, her claws scraped into the silver eyed creature’s face, blood ran down through the jagged lines but it healed quickly, “What are you?” Manon hissed. Manon knew that this female, if she was indeed female, was not fae or witch or human. She was something darker than her Darkness.
The creature’s blood-red lips smiled terribly, wickedness lit her smoke-under-glass eyes, “My name is Amren, witch, and you do not want to know what prowls under my skin.” Manon was fairly certain that she didn’t.
Amren wrapped her legs around her neck, rolling, dropping Manon to the ground, her back barked in response to the sudden impact with the ground.
Rolling back onto her haunches, Manon sneered, “I’m not afraid of you.”
Amren gave her a serpentine smile, Manon’s blood spiked from the need to draw more blood. She whirled around, ducking low, she cut the tendons at Amren’s ankles, bringing the female to her knees. She looked down at the creature, at Amren, “You may heal fast Amren, but even fast healers need tendons to stand.”
Cassian flew towards the blonde male, a replica of the queen of the land, the arrogance poured off of him, but Cassian felt that the demifae could back up the swagger. His grin was wide and near feral, Cassian asked, “What’s your name?”
The general swung low, blonde hair glinting in the sun, his bone-pommeled blade narrowly missed Cassian’s side. Cassian fell back, as the wolf answered, “Aedion Ashryver. The Wolf of the North. General of the Bane.”
Cassian hit the General’s blade with his own arching their swords, their faces close enough Cassian could see the gold in his eyes. He offered, “The name is Cassian.”
Aedion barred his teeth into a smile, kicking him hard enough in the chest that he fell backwards to the ground. Aedion stood over and looked down at him grinning, “Good to know.”
Despite this being a battle, despite being ripped from home, Cassian grinned back up at the demifae.
Darkness enveloped Lysandra, her senses cut out by shadows. So she stretched out her skin, it coating itself into white spotted fur, her ghost leopard eyes able to see into the darkness. She took in the ghost leopard’s animal stillness, the savagery.
She shifted her eyes to the source of the shadows. The black hair blended into the shadows, his hazel eyes carefully calm.
The fae with the scarred hands.
He drew his sword waiting for her to strike.
Lysandra stalked towards the fae, slowly, deliberately.
Lysandra was going to take his head off.
Nesta took in the fae with the harsh tattooed face, his hunting blades were in his hands, a stern line between his eyebrows. She ran at him, her own hunting blades in her hands.
Whirling she managed to slice into his arm, a heavy stream of blood coming from the wound, but she had a matching wound on her leg, it bleeding just as badly. She growled.
She turned to him, his eyes rivaled her iciness, “What’s your name?”
The fae’s lips twitched, “What’s yours?”
She rolled her neck, pulling a blade and threw it at him, nearly hitting between his eyes, “I asked you first.”
He grabbed the blade with ease and sent it back, responding, “Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius, King of Terressen. Your turn.”
“Nesta Archeron, Queen of Hybern.”
He smiled ferally at her, “Well met.” Well met indeed.
Lorcan waited for the blonde female with the hazel eyes to strike. She stood there, waiting for his move. Hellas was telling him to not charge after her. She had her own aura of death. Where ever she was from, this female was powerful and she was a queen in her own right.
Instead of running to meet her, he threw his ax with careful precision. She whirled out of the way gracefully, easily, her blonde hair fanning out. She moved like a dancer. Quick, graceful, fluid.
She jumped-started off the ground, running towards him, she jumped, her legs wrapped around his neck, the force of her pull managed to drop him backwards, landing on his back. The ground barked in response to the drop.
The female looked down at him, the sun illuminating her golden locks, smiling widely, “I’m Mor.”
Feyre’s mind briefly flashed to the Bone Carver, who she had seen as an eight year old child. This human looked unnervingly like him. But where the Bone Carver’s smile made her skin crawl, this human’s smirk reminded her of her mate.
She stood toe to toe with the human. He purred, “Dorian Havilliard, King of Adarlan.”
Feyre crossed her arms, “Feyre Archeron, High Lady of the Night Court.”
“Is this where you try to kill me, High Lady? And I heal spontaneously and snap your neck?”
Feyre arched a brow, “I won’t make a move until you do.”
The king narrowed his brows at her, “Agreed.”
Feyre turned her gaze briefly to her mate. His fighting skills were great, but this assassin-queen, she was better.
“She was the most notorious assassin in the world,” Dorian offered.
Feyre nodded, “I can tell.”
Aelin could tell that the High Lord was good. He was indeed very good, but she was better. Aelin striked out, the High Lord met her blow for blow, strike for strike. But he was tiring. And if he was tiring, she would win.
Aelin didn’t want to kill him. He was in a land that he knew nothing of. There was a way to stop this.
Aelin tripped him, and stood over him, her blade at his throat. She needed to show that she would protect what was hers. She looked down at him, understanding in his eyes. She said, “By rule of Terressen’s queen, Do you swear on your life, your name, your honor and your crown that you mean me and my people no harm? Do you swear that you will give the whole truth and hold back no secrets? Do you swear to answer every question asked?”
The High Lord responded, “On my honor and on my life and on my crown, I, Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, swear.”
When she retracted her sword, the High Lord froze the fighting.
With the voice of a queen, the voice of Fire and Light, Aelin stepped forward, “Weapons down. We will welcome theses people,” she looked at him, “unless they give me a reason not to, with no hostility or harm. Should any of you harm one another without direct orders from me or Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius, you will instigate war and forfeit your life,” she held out a hand, giving the high lord a wicked grin, “ I am Queen Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius. Welcome to Terrasen, welcome to Eriela.
Here you go, please don’t cry, even though I almost did bc i wrote it with some very sad music (for personal reasons) so yeah, don’t kill me, thanks. I put it under the cut bc it may get confusing idk and if you’re not up for some sadness don’t read it okay? If you wanna be happy right now, this is probably not for you.
Drabble. Italics are memories [in case you get confused]
OK WAIT when I was in Idaho I went to a cave painting art exhibit and I saw this thing and haha it looks like it has clawed feet and weird arching wings and a sword > v o)
it looks like janos that’s what I’m trying to say
One more, challenger one I suppose. I want the K: Ganzant or Ghiradorf (or both if you want, I'm greedy)
Heheheh, I’ll go with GhiraDorf for this one. B3
Also, a special thanks to redawilo who originally came up with and wrote this particular idea for their GhiraZant fic. I think you’ll recognize it when you see it. Thank you much, dearie. c:
17. Neck Kiss
After French kissing for a while, some people mix it up by trailing their mouth down and “Frenching” the other person’s neck. To execute a neck kiss perfectly, go light on the saliva, focus on the motion of your lips, never stay in once place for very long and never suck hard enough to leave a hickey.
The demon prided himself upon his cool, calm, and collected demeanor. Always in command of his emotions and urges, there was nothing that could touch or phase him. He was the epitome of perfect grace and unparalleled refinement.
Even as he watched his master from afar.
His most beloved, exalted, shirtless master.
His shirtless master working in the forge.
His shirtless master sweating in the shimmering heat.
His shirtless master tending to his swords.
His shirtless master sharpening, sanding, and oiling his swords.
The nine hells preserve him, but Ghirahim was going to positively faint.
Watching the ep the first time around, I thought Malia was pretty cool (not that I don’t think she is now, but you know what I mean) even though I was pretty jarred by the hooking up scene… That’s it ? where are the long shots on denuded skins and the romantic music ? How come they’re already wearing clothes ? (and let’s talk about the “silence” around it.. where is the #virginnomore ? the winks and jokes on twitter ? anyway). But what really made me tick was her last shot (I’ll come back to it). So I rewatched the episodes and here’s the weird stuff !
The 1st time Stiles sees her is pretty creepy (right before the suicide let’s not forget – suicide which results in the phone being cut off) – but I guess it’s in the tone of the ep.
But let’s go to their first interaction: It’s when Malia hits Stiles that he (re)discovers the basement:
Very convenient, isn’t it?
The next real interaction is the shower scene with the mirror motif coming back – and Stiles telling himself to stay awake.
Another pretty interesting thing was this line:
Which reminded me that when Stiles came in contact with the Nogitsune first he went to /her/ den. In retrospect, I don’t think it’s a coincidence.
What if Malia was the one to put this idea in Oliver’s head?
Ok, this is where my spidey senses are all tingling. In one scene, we learn two things: Malia is strong enough to break the lock AND she know of another passage to the basement. Why didn’t she propose one of those solutions before the whole fighting plan? Did she set him up to get sedated and thus weaker to defend himself against the Nogitsune ? (Hint: my answer to all this is yes)
If you ask me, that’s not a very usual way to phrase this, but okay. Anyway, what I’m getting at is that she doesn’t seems surprised, and she seems to know about trepanation, sending us back to Oliver’s line “she said they drill holes in your head”.
Also. Can we discuss how Stiles went through two out of the three things they just mentioned?! (And if we want to be far stretched, we could point out that lobotomy and frontotemporal dementia both target the frontal lobes of the brain…)
After that, we have the make out scene. We went from this:
which I find a bit jarring because while the rest of the scene was pretty straight forward time wise, it feels like we suddenly have a pretty consequent time- jump.
Starting there, she’s the one leading Stiles to the Nogitsune’s body. And it’s pretty interesting to note here that the Kanji on the wall is not in her line of sight. She acts more like she heard something.
Then she goes straight to knocking three times on the wall. And you’re going to see that knocking could be pretty significant.
You will have to go back to the episode, but right as she says that, you can hear three answering knocks. I mean, come on, with all the doors thing we had so far, it’s actually a wonder we didn’t get that before. What usually happens after a knock on a door? Someone is let in.
(that must have been some sexy pillow talk, amiright ?)
Then, we have the confrontation with Oliver and the Nogitsune, and Stiles finally surrendering to save Malia’s life. How weird is the Nogitsune’s mercy for her, though? Why someone who strives on pain would stop their minion from torturing a girl? Seems like a good “snack” to me… And let’s not forget to mention the creepy smile
Finally, we have Malia’s last scene. Her whole exit has something triumphant/determined to it. This is what gave away fishy vibes to me the first time around. There is her whole attitude, but also the fact that she seems way more in control of her capacities than she’s been saying (first the strength then the eyes… Season 1 and 2 taught us that it is something recently bitten/unanchored werewolves have a hard time controlling, especially when they’re experiencing strong emotions)
And let’s not forget the smirk. (Also, what the hell is she carrying out? It looks like an arch or a sword, or you know, something ominous. Not your usual luggage).
So, here we are. It seems like a lot of coincidences to me. I really think there is something going on here and that Malia is either a pawn or in cahoot with the Nogitsune (or at the very least, she has an agenda). Don’t ask me how, or why, because tbh, I’m not that good at theorizing ^^ I’m sure someone will have a good explanation. I’ll be content with pointing out the weird stuff. But really, given Jeff Davis’s history with women and villain, I wouldn’t be surprised. On the other hand, this is Teen Wolf, and we can’t rule out the possibility that the writing is just not that good/a bit lazy and that Malia was convenient on top of being pretty. I guess we shall see !