fatal decision


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Visited AUs:

Beastly Underfell - General Underfell design by the Undertale community, story of Beastly Underfell (and some of its designs) by me

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This certain design of Comic Papyrus comes by @moofrog


Maly made a fatal decision.

Madly Jealous - S.M

Shawn and I were donning some impressive disguises so far no one had seen you guys. Shawn ditched his usual black and grey attire and went for a dark green hoodie with denim jeans, the hoodie was up over his head and he had on black sunnies to cover most of his face. I wore, a matching hoodie, and black leggings that had a green dragon spiralling up one leg. We had our hands clenched to each other tightly.

“so far so good” I whispered to him.

“Jess! You jinxed us! Now someone will find us” he said, his eyebrows raised.

“no what will get us caught is your clumsy ass” I said playfully shoving him.

“my clumsy ass? At least I don’t fall over on flat ground” he shot back.

“no, you fall up stairs and even your fans are happy when you walk in a straight line without tripping” I laughed back.

“shut up” he shoved me back, and me being clumsy slipped and fell. “see what I mean?” he made the fatal decision of turning away from me and I kicked him in the back of the knee causing him to fall, his sunglasses fell off.

“no who’s the cluts?” I smirked.

“that doesn’t count” he said crawling around to me.

“mmm I think it does” I laughed.

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piratejenna  asked:

So I just rewatched GF Carpet Diem, and I was wondering if there was something to Dipper getting Ford's old room, but giving it up in order to spend time with Mabel. Like, maybe that's some foreshadowing to the difference between Dipper and Ford and what Dipper's arc in the finale is.

LISTEN. I hadn’t even thought of that thing specifically but there’s something like that to everything in Gravity Falls. This is why my friend is still after me to do what I said I’d do and write a series of posts detailing how each episode foreshadows the final arc in some way.

(Spoilers follow, as usual:)

What stands out to me the most is the way Ford is introduced in the very first episode as a divisive force between the twins.

We don’t even know him yet: he’s a nameless, faceless, voiceless voice telling Dipper, “In Gravity Falls there is no one you can trust.” There’s a specific moment where Dipper is thinking this message over and Mabel turns up out of nowhere to ask him what kind of “nerd thing” he’s reading. And Dipper does a surprising thing, in light of the rest of the episode and the season: he covers up. His first instinct is to tell Mabel, “It’s nothing!” She laughs him off, though, because she knows it’s something: “Are you actually not gonna show me?” (Unthinkable!) Of course, when she puts it that way, reality sets in—there’s no way he’d keep a secret like that from her: “Let’s go somewhere private.” But for a moment, he wanted to take the author at his word. There was a moment when—perhaps for the first time in his life—he wasn’t going to trust Mabel. He was going to make the same fatal decision Ford made in the issue of the rift—that some secrets had better stay between the smart kids.

The entire first episode represents the tension of Dipper’s choice between following the dictum of the Author—who has told him, in all-caps, “TRUST NO ONE!“—or putting his faith in his quirky sister. And by the end of the episode, he’s already made his decision. On top of that, he’s no longer a passive reader of the journal—he’s begin to write in it himself, challenging the ideas it contains:

This journal told me there was no one in Gravity Falls I could trust. But when you battle a hundred gnomes side-by-side with someone, you realize that they’ve probably always got your back.

The pilot isn’t even over yet, and already the unseen Ford has come between Mabel and Dipper and their essential faith in one another has bridged the gap he created. Ford has told Dipper to trust no one, and Dipper has answered him in no uncertain terms: “I trust her.”

High Stakes

Here’s a request I wrote for @dragonbound135 First time writing Elide and Lorcan and I have to say that I enjoyed it! Anyhow, if you want to make a request, just contact me in anyway from the prompt list I have on my blog or by asks/messenger thingy. 

Title: High Stakes

Characters: Elide and Lorcan

Summary: Elide asks Lorcan to teach her how to play chess. Lorcan is hesitant, but after being taunted agrees. However, what happens when a bet is made between the two?

“Teach me how to play?”

Lorcan’s onyx-colored eyes shifted up from the polished marble chessboard to the person standing on the other end. Elide’s matching-colored eyes stared back, curiosity swirling within them as she glanced down to the array of black and white pieces positioned on the chessboard. She carefully analyzed each and every piece, glancing from square to square.

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Architects of the Future

Pairings: David 8 x Reader
Words: 1036
Warnings: Fluff
Request: “Can I recommend a fic for where David and Reader bond over the fascination of the xenomorph and the white one isn’t hostile towards Reader and David admires the Reader for their bravery and caring?”
Summary:  The reader is sent on a surface to search for David who suddenly disappeared near the abandoned alien ship. She finds him in a presence of a thing born from nightmares. Will she pull the trigger?
A/N:  Request for Vahraniik! Thank you for giving me a chance to write it!

Originally posted by gargoyles42

Stealthily you managed to sneak near the place where you’d assumed the strange voices were coming from.  Your heart was pounding in your chest and the overwhelming darkness was making you paranoid. The sensors on your suit went crazy, the tracking device was failing and the communication with the rest of the crew was lost the moment you stepped into this damn place.

You were completely on your own.

The only way out was to find David. What an irony, you’d found yourself in this place only because his signal disappeared from the radar a few hours ago. That’s where you’d last heard from him.

Your ragged breath was echoing in the entire length of the corridor that was stretching ahead of you. You had no idea what could be waiting at the other side but you didn’t intend to return to the ship without David.

You were making your way slowly and carefully, gently touching the wall with your arm in order to not lose your way. Then you finally saw something in the distance; faint light falling onto the floor. You pressed your lips together, trying to remain silent and stabilized the weapon in your hand. Whatever was causing your uneasiness was in that room and you weren’t going to give up without putting up a fight.

You crossed the distance between you and the narrow rift in the wall and hid around the corner, listening carefully. At first, nothing interrupted the silence but after a long wait, you heard soft whispers. You recognized that voice immediately, it was the same one who would often put you to sleep or tell you about so many wonderful and breathtaking things with such excitement that it was so easy to forget it didn’t belong to a flesh and blood human being.

You were about to leave the shelter when you realised that David’s voice was trembling. Perhaps no one else would pay attention to this slight change in his tone but you knew that David wasn’t the one to lose his composure. Whatever or whoever was with him in that room, you knew it could be a real threat.

Shutting your eyes, your fingers involuntary tighten on the rifle you were carrying. But there was no retreat, you had to aid him, no matter what.

Before your self-preserving instincts had a chance at turning you away from danger and dragging you out of this place, you bounced your back on the wall and entered the room with your gun pointed at the possible intruder.

Whatever you might have expected, the sight that came to life just before your eyes stunned you.

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Understanding Rhysand (and Tamlin): A Post-ACOMAF Reconciliation of Rhys’s Actions Under the Mountain in a Culture of Defeat

In other words, the sequel post to my “Rhysand Defense Post.”

This post is in response to the lovely nonnie who left this message in my inbox. Beware, this is long (but honestly, who is surprised? Not me. And probably not the nonnie haha).

Here was the question: 

Hello, Nonnie!

Aw, yes, this does come up quite a bit, and it can be difficult to reconcile Rhys’s actions in ACOTAR with the version of him in ACOMAF.  I have actually made several posts regarding this if you’d like to check them out (though they were made before ACOMAF came out). The two that immediately come to mind are my “Rhysand Defense Post” and “The Difference between Tamlin and Rhysand: The Man on the Throne and the Man in the Arena - ACOTAR and ACOMAF Excerpt Analysis”

In essence, when examining Rhys’s treatment of Feyre in ACOTAR, I think it’s crucial to remember that Rhys was acting as a trapped leader stuck between a rock and a hard place; he was working within a culture of defeat and was trying to not only survive, but protect both Feyre and his people.  Both Tamlin and Rhys are faced with what to do once Amarantha takes over, and they respond very differently: Tamlin with inaction/paralysis, and Rhys with action. Both of these responses are legitimate and entirely realistic in terms of how war leaders have historically responded to war and defeat. (I actually took an entire course in college that focused on the culture of defeat in times of war, particularly focusing on the Franco-Prussian War, the American Civil War, WWI, and WWII–and trust me, it is amazing how people–and especially leaders–act during these times. It can be ugly, and oftentimes a leader’s choices are very limited in what they can do to help their people.)

Keeping this in mind, we can see that Sarah doesn’t pull her punches in showing the sheer ugliness of war and–even more importantly–what comes after war. What happens when your people are defeated. What happens when a sadistic tyrant rules and displays her torture methods as a way to cow any potential rebels, to sew a culture of fear.

We see the ugliness of a culture of defeat, and how different people react. We see what happens to those who rebel (the High Lords who were killed); we see how conquered people are tormented and treated as animals (the hundreds of fae trapped in the caverns beneath the mountain to hunt each other in the dark); and we see the awful, terrible, horrendous choices that people in power must make.

Because they must make a choice, and there are no good choices.

You either act and hopefully begin a chain of events that could one day lead to your people’s freedom or you do nothing at all. When you do not act in the face of evil, you in turn perpetuate that evil. To not act is to be complicit in evil–and that is part of the reason why Feyre was so upset with Tamlin in ACOMAF when she speaks to the fact that he did not fight for her UtM. Because although he was trying to protect her by being stoic, he wasn’t really protecting her at all. She would have died, and he would have done nothing to stop it. (History doesn’t look kindly upon inaction in these situations–for example, think about how countries who were silent in the face of the Holocaust are viewed though they knew what was happening. Think about the countries who were not only silent, but did nothing as hundreds of thousands of their citizens were forcefully deported to their deaths. Think of the not-directly-affected countries who knew what was happening but did nothing–and yes, there were more that knew early on what was happening than we’d like to acknowledge. Silence–inaction–is truly its own choice, and Sarah is showing in ACOTAR that inaction is its own type of evil, really. We watch as the world goes to hell, thinking that by not acting at all we can at least protect our own people, protect ourselves–but then the wolf comes to your door and it’s too late to act. You have no allies, because everyone else has already been eaten, and in the end your people still die anyway, and all you can do is watch.

That is why Tamlin is so haunted after UtM. He had to watch as Feyre died. He could do nothing because his earlier inaction sealed his doom, and his people’s doom, and Feyre’s doom. This is also why his actions are so extreme in ACOMAF. He is trying to make up for how little he did UtM, but in doing so he smothers Feyre; he takes away her choices, her agency. Granted his power once more, he becomes the extreme protector. Tamlin can’t find a middle ground, but is bouncing between extremes. This is why he has his nightmares; why he is overbearing; why he focuses so much on what he can do to protect Feyre; why he watches in the night in beast form, ready to attack. He is haunted by his choice to not act, but now that he does act in ACOMAF, he goes too far.

Through Tamlin we see that not acting has its own horrors, its own traumas, its own hauntings.

Sarah shows us this: that inaction cannot save Prythian, just as it does not save people in real life. But she takes it one step further: she shows us the horror of what action brings as well.  Because although we would like to say that we should keep the moral high ground in times of war and defeat–that it is more important to do so then than at any other time–sometimes survival and the moral high ground can’t exist hand-in-hand. Leaders in war can have very limited options, and many times they try to choose what they believe is the lesser of two evils. They can’t always consult someone else; it is not always safe to do so. They play a dangerous game, and they try to save as many people as they can.

This is what Sarah shows us through Rhys’s character.

Rhys, whose actions are not savory and are very morally gray. Rhys who is neither the villain nor the hero in ACOTAR, but rather some complex character in between (which, let me tell you, is very realistic. No war commander or leader in history was a saint–they made choices that cost lives and agency and destruction. Such is the ugliness of war and defeat.). Rhys is a realistic war leader, even if the exact situation the fae are trapped in isn’t typical of a true war.

But Rhys is the man in the arena and he knows he is the only one standing between his people and destruction. Half of one of his courts is killed by Amarantha immediately upon her ascension, and time and again he is faced with hard choices that he must make–as he tells Feyre in ACOMAF–very quickly.  He sacrifices the majority of his remaining power to protect Velaris and his people, leaving him very little power to fend off Amarantha.  He sacrifices his body and his mental health by becoming his tormentor’s whore. He is raped and tortured and tormented to the point that the only thing keeping him going is the fact that he is the only one stopping Amarantha from finding his family and his people. He faces public ridicule and hatred; he must pretend that he enjoys his position by wearing the mask of an enemy (which is a tactic that past leaders and heroes have done. E.g., Oskar Schindler, who wore the uniform of a Nazi but saved hundreds of Jewish lives in WWII). But he tries to show mercy when he can (as with the summer fae, Tarquin’s friend who was staging a rebellion). He tries to keep going for 50 years, tries to lure Amarantha into making a fatal decision, tries to lure her into the woods where the Weaver waits. He has tried and tried and tried, and he is about to lose hope.

And then Feyre comes.

This girl, whom he has dreamed of for months, who has given him hope. The girl whom he suspects from their very first meeting is his mate. The girl whom he tries to protect from Amarantha’s claws by trying to scare her away–both by warning her to leave this place (the Spring Court) and by putting on a show that would convince Tamlin to let her go.  But then she shows up UtM anyway, and Rhys is horrified because she is almost certainly doomed. He is going to have to watch as this girl–the girl who might be his mate–will be killed in front of him and he can do nothing to stop it.

But then she proves that she is just as clever as he is, and she strike a bargain with Amarantha. And in that moment–this very important moment–we see the decision that Rhys makes: “I decided, then and there, that I was going to fight. And I would fight dirty, and kill and torture and manipulate, but I was going to fight. If there was a shot of freeing us from Amarantha, you were it.  I thought…I thought the Cauldron had been sending me these dreams to tell me that you would be the one to save us. Save my people.”

Rhys will do whatever it takes to save his people and Feyre, and it is this resolve that culminates in his actions UtM during Feyre’s trials. As I’ve discussed in my Defense Post, Rhys plays a role–he wears a mask–in order to arrange the chess pieces on the board in such a way that he can take out the queen–but he must do all of this without raising suspicion.  

As for his actions concerning Feyre and the dancing, Rhys believed that this was his best option he had in the situation–and in reality, we can see that it killed not only two birds with one stone, but really more like 7 or 8. Not only does this allow him to be near his mate, but it gets him a legitimate reason to both get Feyre out of her cell (where her isolation was wrecking her mind) and to show Amarantha that Feyre is suffering sufficiently to not be given any other torturous variations of her “chores.” The dancing also diverts people from entertaining the possibility that they could be working together against Amarantha. If Rhys is casting Feyre as his harlot, it reaffirms Amarantha’s idea that humans are nothing more than lowly trash–not a possible threat. At the same time, Rhys and Feyre’s relationship appears antagonistic at best. With his actions, Rhys is assuring that no one could possibly guess that they are, in fact, mates. If anyone had found out that bit of information, then everything would have fallen apart.

(On a related note, and as has been discussed on a related post, Rhys also uses this situation to stand up to his abuser. He presents Feyre before Amarantha and her court with a crown on her head, thereby showing his support for her and his belief that she will win. On a more subtle level, it shows his deeper belief that Feyre is his equal: she wears a crown imbued with the symbolism of his court and psychological healing. He does not see Feyre as someone lower than him, even though he pretends he does. To everyone else, the image of Feyre in a crown and the sheer dress is a mockery, but in reality it is a subversion of this exact idea. Feyre is mortal, and is looked down upon–seen as an animal–but just as in the First Trial, Rhys is betting on her. He plays to Amarantha’s tune even as he subverts it.)

Although this decision to have Feyre dance and drink is morally gray, Rhys used the wine as a kindness. It helps Feyre forget the ordeal, which I’m sure he didn’t want to put his mate through in the first place. At the same time, Feyre doesn’t have to maintain a front (which she would not be nearly as good at as Rhys in the current state she was in - she could have given them away). The wine sweeps her away, so it’s easier for her to dance and let go (which she comes to welcome). And Rhys, being protective of her, makes sure she stays with him the majority of the night (or within view). She dances with him or sits on his lap, and those swirls of ink both allow him to know that no one has touched her or taken advantage of her and lets her know the next day that she was safe. It also lets her know that Rhys never took advantage of her either.

Of course, there is also the question of why Rhys didn’t simply ask Feyre to take part in this plan; it would have affirmed her agency. Honestly, this is a great question, especially since we saw how much Rhys values Feyre’s agency in ACOMAF–and we see then that she could play the part quite well (see: the scene in the Court of Nightmares when Feyre plays the harlot).

While I think we can all agree that we would have preferred Feyre knowing Rhys’s plan from the beginning, in terms of plot, suspense, and character arcs this decision might have unhinged the story.  

Let’s take a look.

What were some of the main motivations that Rhys would have to keep Feyre out of the loop?

1) She’s human, and thus her mind is as easy to crack as an eggshell. It is very easy to invade a human mind as a daemati–Rhys explains how Feyre’s thoughts were practically screaming to him because of the lack of barriers around her mind. Unfortunately, Rhys is most likely not the only daemati UtM. If Feyre knew Rhys’s plan to overthrow Amarantha–especially in her vulnerable mental state–it would be a very simple matter for one of Amarantha’s spies or lackeys to find out that Amarantha’s whore isn’t quite as obedient as she thought. Take Rhys out of the equation and Feyre wouldn’t stand a chance–it would be game over for everyone. This in turn ties in with reason #2.

2) Rhys must maintain a front and not raise (even more) suspicion.  He has already raised suspicion multiple times: he made a bargain with Feyre, he stopped her chores, he healed her arm, he disobeyed Amarantha’s order to shatter the summer fae’s mind, and he bet on Feyre in the first task. On top of that, Rhys’s family sided with the humans in the war against Hybern.  Rhys has to tread very carefully with this plan, as everyone is watching him. Even Feyre notices how his actions can spur suspicion; she says as much in his room UtM during the lentils scene. So Rhys must make sure he wears his mask at all times. He can’t risk Feyre seeing beneath it, even when he visits her cell, because if she knows, then others can find out from her. Or someone can overhear, or Feyre could give them away through her reactions to him (he can’t know how good of an actor she really is; he barely knows her, so he must play it safe).

This is why Rhys must play the villain, despite the fact that he feels that bond with her, that he is falling in love with her and thinks she may be his mate.  Just as Tamlin chooses inaction to try to save her, Rhys chooses to wear the villain’s mask to protect her as she completes her challenges. He fights with her from the shadows; he is her ally and on a deeper level, she begins to realize that, even though she can only catch glimpses of his true intentions.

3) Rhys must act like a villain to keep suspicion away, but also to motivate Feyre. This is very important. Feyre acknowledges both in ACOTAR and ACOMAF that Rhys understands her psychologically; he knows what will motivate her.  In ACOMAF, he knows that riling her up by thinking about flirting or sex will make her react/get her mind off of her trauma, but in ACOTAR he knew flirting wouldn’t be enough/be the proper motivation (though he does use that tactic occasionally). Instead, he uses her other key motivator: anger. (In ACOMAF, before the Weaver scene, we have this line from Feyre, acknowledging this tactic: “Anger, this…flirtation, annoyance…He knew those were my crutches.”) It would be anger that she could harness–the only thing that could keep her fear and the rising insanity at bay. Her anger toward him empowered her; it focused her; it is what stopped her from shattering. He could not give her hope through a plan, so he gave her the other major emotion that can motivate a human through hard times: hatred. Between that and her love for Tamlin, Feyre is able to keep herself together. Thus, we can see that Rhys’s actions not only serve to divert suspicion and move the chess pieces on the board, but they also serve to focus Feyre during the months she’s sequestered away in the dark cells UtM, where night and day she can hear the screams of the tortured in that deep darkness.

It is only near the end, the night before the Third Task, that Rhys is able to start taking off that mask. He is able to talk to Feyre as himself, and she realizes that the glimpses she’s seen beyond that mask are real: that Rhys is lonely and tormented as well, and that he has been her ally all along.  Rhys acknowledges that Feyre could turn him in–end at all–but he was just raped by Amarantha after that kiss in the hallway and he needed someone to talk to. He’s been alone, dealt with this all alone for so long, and he just wants to be with his mate: to be without his mask with her for a few minutes.

This leads to 4) Rhys didn’t tell Feyre because he has been used to working alone. He could never rely on others to help him because if they were caught, he’d be compromised as well. For 50 years, he has had no one to confide in; he could not see his family or his friends, and the only people UtM were members from his dark court: the Court of Nightmares. (With the seeming exception of Feyre’s handmaidens, Nuala and Cerridwen.) Used to making decisions unilaterally and in secret, it is no wonder that Rhys is slow to reveal his plans to others, even to Feyre. Feyre is a human, a human that hates him and fears him for the most part; it would be suicide to let her know early on in the plan.

Importantly, we see that this learned behavior of his doesn’t go away immediately in ACOMAF. Because Rhys was used to making plans on his own for so long, there are several times in ACOMAF that he does things without talking to Feyre first (e.g. using Feyre as bait to lure in the Attor). Rightfully so, Feyre is furious with him and hands it to him. And afterwards, we see that he realizes he was wrong for doing what he did–that he deserved Feyre’s anger. He apologizes, and you know what? He learns and he stops doing it.  Unlike Tamlin, who apologizes to Feyre for taking away her agency but continues to do so, Rhys recognizes when he overstepped his boundaries and stops doing it.  He respects Feyre as his equal, and while he makes mistakes, he apologizes for them and tries to change his actions.

He apologizes for UtM as well (e.g., during a training scene: “I’m sorry I didn’t find a way to spare you from what happened Under the Mountain. […] From dying. From wanting to die.”), and tries to explain to Feyre why he did what he did. Some of his reasons are good, and some of them are not–though we can understand why those motivations were there. (For example, while some of what he did was to motivate Tamlin’s anger to strike out at Amarantha, Rhys also admits that it was partially to get back at him for killing Rhys’s mother and sister. Likewise, the kiss in the hallway had multiple motivations, including protecting Feyre from Amarantha [who would have had a bloody field day if she’d discovered Feyre’d been with Tamlin] and his jealousy that Tamlin was not only with Rhys’s (potential) mate, but had also not used that one opportunity to get Feyre out.)

As I’ve discussed in my other analyses, all of this culminates in the final battle with Amarantha, where we see that Rhysand is not the enemy, but the friend. (Not Rhysand, but Rhys.) And this is yet another reason why Rhys’s characterization and decisions over the course of ACOTAR are so important: because it sets up this wonderful reveal–the unmasking. This is where the heart of this tale–Beauty and the Beast–truly comes into play.

Because it is not only Tamlin who wears the mask, but also Rhys. We are not only supposed to look beyond the mask of our obvious romantic interest/beast; we are also supposed to apply that lesson to our complex villain/anti-hero figure as well–because he is the true beast.  While Tamlin’s unmasking and character evolution in ACOMAF reveals that the beauty Feyre expects behind the mask hides a corruption/trauma-induced abusive characteristics beneath (which in turn provides a brilliant depiction of how abusive relationships develop: i.e., the person sees the abuser in a romantic light at first, until they slowly realize how much power has been taken from them), Rhys’s unmasking shows the compassionate man beneath the villain’s mask.  Told in Feyre’s 1st person narrative, we see Tamlin and Rhys through her point of view, and as she slowly realizes the truths behind their characters–as she strips away those masks–we do as well. Those realizations are meant to be slow; they are meant to encourage us to truly look at the world around us and to not make those snap judgments, because character motivations may be much more complex than we realize.

If Rhys had revealed his plans to Feyre early on, we would not have had a story that truly played with the idea of masks: masked faces, masked intentions, masked personalities, masked truths. The story would not be about this slow evolution of understanding that Feyre (and we) undergo, but rather a less-complex story about a heroic love interest helping Feyre defeat Amarantha. We would’ve lost several layers of meaning, including the entire dialogue about war leaders operating within a culture of defeat where every option is a bad option. (It’s much like an awful game of “would you rather.”) By keeping Rhys’s intentions hidden for most of the story, by telling it from Feyre’s 1st person pov, and by seeing the terrible choices he must make, we are asked to read this story more maturely and use the themes and lens of Beauty and the Beast to analyze these characters.

Using this lens, we can see that the characters in ACOTAR and ACOMAF are not black and white villains and heroes. They are complex characters–and this includes both Rhysand and Tamlin–with complex motivations that are entirely human, realistic, and–importantly–understandable. Whether it is Rhys’s actions in ACOTAR or Tamlin’s now in ACOMAF, we can see where these characters are coming from, and while we may not approve of those actions, we cannot deny that their characterizations and decisions shed light on the human condition: both during war and afterwards–but especially afterwards.  Whether under the rule of a tyrant or during the aftermath of freedom, facing the trauma of one’s choices and the effects of psychological, physical, emotional, and/or sexual abuse is never easy. We see how these experiences and traumas force/enable characters to grow and change–sometimes for the better, but not always.

So no, Rhys’s actions UtM–and Tamlin’s actions more recently in ACOMAF–are not always pretty, nor are they always right.  But to address Nonnie’s initial question more succinctly, I believe that Rhys’s actions in ACOTAR were meant to help as many people as he could. I believe his intentions were good, that his choices were not great, and that if we look closely at his potential options, he chose the best option he could in his circumstances and tried to mitigate the negative effects of those choices.  He took away Clare Beddor’s pain, he gave Feyre wine, and he killed the summer fae rather than shatter his mind; he stopped Feyre’s chores and gave her an alternative that put her less at risk while keeping her with him–which was the safest place she could be; he gave reason for Feyre to hate him: to focus her, to save her (despite the fact that his mate might hate him forever).  He gave her music–hope–when she had nothing else. He fought for her at every turn, before UtM, during it, and afterwards. He never gave up on her, even when she was ready to give up on herself. He gave her choices when he could, and he regrets when he couldn’t.  He was willing to let his mate go, to let her choose another male, because that’s what he believed she wanted. Rhys isn’t selfish. All he wants is for Feyre to be happy; to be able to make her own choices; to be able to be the strongest, happiest version of herself.  So yes, while Rhys isn’t perfect, he tries his best with what he’s given–and he is deeply sorry for the pain he wasn’t able to spare Feyre (or others) UtM.

Such is the cost of action; such is the cost of being a leader.

For Rhys is a leader, which means that no matter his actions, they will affect others. He is the leader that acts; he is the man in the arena, and it is easy to label his actions as not good enough, to label him as an abuser or a villain (which I don’t see him as). It is harder to try to understand him, but that is what Sarah and literature as a whole encourage us to do: to understand the other and see how his or her story relates to ours–and to the human condition more generally. Rhys’s and Feyre’s and Tamlin’s stories (and the other characters’ stories in ACOTAR/ACOMAF, honestly) brilliantly speak to humanity and its variations, and this (in many, many words) is how I feel about Rhys’s depiction and character arc in ACOTAR, especially in relation to the new information we have in ACOMAF.  

ChowderWeek 2017, Day 2: Family Dinner

Bitty Doesn’t Know How To Use Chopsticks

[a reinterpretation of this]

If there was ever a moment Chowder felt that he was born for, this was it. This, right here, in his moment of utmost glory, is what he was put on this earth for. He’s even got the evil laugh to go with it. Everyone’s gotta have an evil laugh, okay? Everyone was staring at him like he’d gone mad with power, which, was not entirely inaccurate.

You see, it all started with almost-Christmas. According to Holster, Christmas means Chinese food (gotta love that Holster logic), so almost-Christmas means SMH family dinner at the Chinese restaurant off campus. Bitty, as if anyone expected anything less, whipped up some pie to bring for dessert, and this is important. This is Chekov’s pie, right here. Are you paying attention?

So there they were on their merry way, ordering up some fancy family style dishes to share. Walnut shrimp, kung pao beef, sweet and sour pork, stir fry vegetables, crispy tofu, mapo tofu, Lardo ordered a steamed fish, the eating of which is another story for another time, and winter melon soup. It was going to be a swasome dinner. And then Bitty did The Thing, he did That.

He asked for a spoon and fork.

Gasps, mock horror, chirps all around.

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Justice that Never Came

Lorraine Wilson (20) and Wendy Evans (18) were nurses from Sydney who in October of 1974 were vacationing together in Queensland. However, the car they were driving broke down and they were forced to hitchhike. It proved to be a fatal decision that led to a terrifying ordeal.

It’s hard to know everything that happened to the two friends after they got in a car with two men on October 6. Their families and loved ones never heard from them again, until their skeletal remains were found among some bushes on June 29, 1976, near the city of Toowoomba. The skulls were fractured, and an examination of Wendy’s, in particular, showed her face had been “beaten to a pulp”. There was also some cord around the legs, suggesting they’d been bound.

This case remained inexplicably cold for almost 40 years, and even though now authorities have a somewhat clear idea of what happened to Lorraine and Wendy, and who did it to them, no one has been charged. Ever since July of 1976, police received credible tips of who the culprits might be, but according to the coroner that investigated the case in 2013, they failed to properly investigate.

More tragically, there were many witnesses who could have helped the women, and didn’t. In the 2013 inquest, several people claimed they’d seen Lorraine and Wendy at the side of the road, screaming for help, while being manhandled by a couple of men. Some of them believed it was a domestic dispute, others were afraid to get involved and just drove by. None of them reported what they’d seen right away.

So what happened to Lorraine and Wendy? Seven persons of interest were named in this case: Allan John Laurie, Wayne “Boogie” Hilton, Donald Laurie, Larry Charles, Desmond Roy Hilton, Allan Neil Laurie and Terrance James O'Neill. These men were infamous at the time in Toowoomba, and they had a reputation for kidnapping and raping women, among other terrible things. Walter Laurie, the brother of Allan John Laurie who was only 10 in 1974, testified that he’d witnessed a “gang bang” between them and the two women, who had been beaten when they tried to resist. It’s also likely they were kept alive for at least a couple of days before they were killed.

When the 2013 inquest became public, several women came forward as victims of the above mentioned group. However, it was too late for proper justice. Of the seven, only Desmond Hilton, Allan Neil Laurie and Terrance O’Neill were still alive. According to authorities, their certain suspect was Wayne “Boogie” Hilton, but he had died in a car crash in 1986. But although they firmly believed that the others were guilty too, they said they didn’t have enough evidence for an arrest, so they walked free.

Lips catch on teeth in a hurried kiss. Hungry, hungry eyes stare into his. Blunt nails bury themselves into his hips; a jean-clad leg pressing in between. A toned chest is pulled flush against his, molding him to the wall. His hands latch onto black leather and clutch so hand the knuckles turn white.


“Shh.” A finger slides over his lips. “Don’t say it. Tonight, we are nameless.”

He wants to argue, he wants to scream that it wouldn’t matter; by tomorrow, he would be nameless once again.

A feverish kiss stills his thoughts, soft lips stealing away what little control he had. They pull apart briefly and Icarus looks into Apollo’s eyes. Reality suddenly bites at his heart.

A golden boy with the brilliance of the sun, gold-spun hair, and celestial blue eyes. How could a boy who dreams of flyings and wakes up with the sun in his mouth ever compare?

“You don’t want this.” Why does the words sound like death’s doors closing? He feels like falling.

“I-I do.” His voice quivers more than he would like, stutters as much as his traitorous heart does.

“Then, why do you look like you’re about to cry?”

“I-” The words are stuck in his throat, his tongue heavy with fear. He doesn’t want to say it, lest it becomes laden with anger and desperation. He doesn’t want to give in to the dangerous idea that Apollo meant something to him.

He runs a hand through his silky hair and Icarus’ fingers twitch with urges to card through them. “I’m not going to hurt you. So, please, tell me what’s wrong.” Apollo stares at Icarus with those intense blue eyes and he caves.

“I.. you said that tonight we would be nameless,” he murmurs. Icarus winces at how weak and disappointed his voice sounds, but continues anyways. He’s already off the deep end. It’s too late to take back his words. “But, I’m going to be nameless tomorrow and the next day and forever, aren’t I?”

Apollo freezes and Icarus looks away. He contemplates leaving when he realizes that he’s in his own house, his own room, and curses. Inviting Apollo had been a decision proved fatal.

“No.” The word is soft and lingers long in the air after Apollo’s voice dies away. Icarus’ head turns sharply to look at him, hope blossoming in his chest. He hates it; the fact that the hope would end up being crushed, that he would be disappointed again.

“You’re not nameless. You will never be nameless, Icarus,” Apollo says. His hand skirts through his hair once again and Icarus recognizes it as a nervous habit. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just thought.. I thought that if we didn’t say our names.. if you didn’t say my name, then I wouldn’t fall for you more. Then, it would hurt less when we act like strangers tomorrow.”

Icarus could feel his heart skip a beat as he looks at Apollo. His lips part in an attempt to speak, but no sound comes out.

“You don’t have to say anything. I’ll just.. I’ll just leave. This was supposed to be your night and I ruined it. I’m sorry.” Apollo stands up and turns to the door. Panic wells up in Icarus’ chest and he grabs Apollo’s wrist.


Apollo freezes at the touch, but remains facing the door. Icarus knows that he can easily break out of his weak grasp, but the golden boy is rooted in his tracks.

“P-please stay,” Icarus practically begs. He licks his dry lips, swallows the lump in his throat, and finds the courage to say, “I want you here.”

“You do?” The hesitance and the overwhelming hope in Apollo’s voice breaks his heart.

“I do,” he answers resolutely. He has never been more sure of anything. “I.. I’ve fallen for you, too.”

Apollo abruptly turns around and sits on the edge of his bed, hovering above Icarus. His form shakes, as does his voice. “You.. you have?”

Heat crosses his cheeks and Icarus knows that he’s blushing heavily. He nods, not trusting his voice to find the right words.

“Oh, thank god.” Apollo exhales heavily, his lips lift in a relieved smile. He becomes shy in the next instance, so different from the confident boy Icarus knows. “Can I hug you?”

“Yes, please.” The earnest reply brings forth Apollo’s sweet laughter and Icarus finds that it’s worth the embarrassment. He is pulled into Apollo’s embrace, strong arms wrapped around him, and his eyes flutter close.

Hesitantly, Icarus’ arms reach around to Apollo’s back and he rests his hands on the soft leather. It only takes a moment for them to tighten and suddenly, Icarus never wants to let go. His only reassurance is that Apollo feels the same way; if his snug embrace is any indication.

“This has to be a dream,” Icarus says, his voice barely above a whisper. He has the sun in his arms and his body feels light as if wings were attached to his back. He’s falling but he’s not alone. It has to be a dream. Reality isn’t so kind.

Apollo breaks apart from Icarus’ hold, arms still held possessively around his waist. He presses his forehead against Icarus’ and stares into his eyes. “It’s not a dream, Icarus. This is real. I’m real. And, I’m not going to disappear once you wake up.”

Icarus chokes back a sob as he closes his eyes. His mind still can’t wrap around the idea that Apollo is here, in his bed and in his arms. His heart, the wretched thing, has already accept it as truth. It would only take a bit longer before his mind believes it as well.

He opens his eyes and gasps softly at the pure unadulterated love in Apollo’s eyes. Aphrodite must have blessed him tonight because the love is so tangible he could taste it.

Apollo’s eyes are so blue that Icarus swears he stole the color from the sky. They’re clear and honest. Icarus couldn’t find the heart in him to question Apollo’s claims. He’s telling the truth; his soul practically resonates with it.

Icarus buries his head against Apollo’s chest, breathing in his scent. He becomes heady with the smell of sunlight and leather, soft sighs escaping his lips.

Apollo only pulls him closer, whispering sweet, sweet declarations of love in his ear. Icarus is crimson to the tips of his ears and Apollo merely chuckles. “You’re adorable.”

He’s not one to take compliments well and stumbles through his thanks. Apollo just smiles and presses soft kisses into his hair. “Happy birthday, Icarus.”


They spend the night in each other’s arms, kissing sweetly and spilling secrets they’ve been dying to tell. The heated desire from before thins out and a deeper intimacy brings them closer than hurried carnal pleasure ever could. They fall asleep tangled up together and doesn’t let go even in Morpheus’ realm.

 When Icarus wakes up, he finds his head resting on a toned chest, strong arms wrapped around his body in a secure embrace. He flushes, but snuggles closer to Apollo and closes his eyes. Falling isn’t so bad after all.

- Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #57

When Ali David Sonboly was confronted by a man on a balcony after he killed nine people inside a McDonald’s and the surrounding area on July 22, 2016, he first responded with “Because of you I was bullied for seven years,” presumably alluding to a motivation for the murders.

Sonboly’s bullying allegedly began at the Toni-Pfülf-Straße middle school in Munich, where he was a loner from the start. In 2010, when David was 12-years-old, he was the victim of a theft, and the incident was reported to the police, but it couldn’t be proven.

Shortly after, he transferred to the Alfonsstraße middle school, only to face worse treatment. An acquaintance reported absolutely no one in class would associate with him, his peers being annoyed with his “singsong voice,” and the way he spoke made him seem extremely stupid. The bullying eventually escalated to physical abuse, as well. In 2012, David was attacked and beaten by three teenagers on his way home from school and subsequently filed a police report. The parties involved were talked to, but they weren’t criminally punished. That same year, his dad wrote a letter to the school when he discovered he was being forced to work as a personal slave for a group of boys, but his concerns weren’t returned, not even with a response.

A mother of one of his classmates also told about an instance where Sonboly was tied up, insulted and beaten by another group, then they urinated on his clothes during a physical education class.

By the summer of 2015, he was suffering from depression and anxiety and required a two-month stay at an inpatient psychiatric facility. Although at the time of his shooting he was still receiving mental treatment, Sonboly had already made up his mind, planning his shooting at least a year before.

The content of David’s manifesto hasn’t been released, but police have said it mainly focuses on his failed school career and bullying, likely the leading factors that led him to his fatal decision.

anonymous asked:

You'd do angst? Hmmmm.....Since Ouma is compared to Hitler a lot, how about writing something where Ouma is suicidal or is thinking of suicide. It can be as angsty as you want or a heartwarming hurt/comfort piece. It's your choice.

:0!!! Here ya go anon, ta-da! 030!!!

Warning: Suicide attempt/thoughts, uhm, blood mention? Not explicitly graphic but violent matter is implied >.>;; Oh, and the ending is more or less ambiguous :V Also, kinda Oumami? Up to interpretation I guess 030

Part 2 right over heeeeere! :V

You Are Not Alone

“… Oh? Ouma… are you waking…?”

What… was that? In his fuzzy, disorientated state of mind, Ouma Kokichi couldn’t identify the voice that was speaking to him, never mind answer it. Ouma felt barely awake yet all too conscious, the whirlwind of feelings raging violently inside of him.

He had… failed, hadn’t he?

Ouma could remember what he was going to do… he was… going to… do it in the shower room… where the water could wash away the blood and the stench of rot from his soon-to-be corpse… Sure it was risky, but, he didn’t want it to be in his room or in any public place like the gymnasium or cafeteria… And his state of mind at the time of committing the act wasn’t exactly the best, causing him to make quick, brash, and fatal decisions.

“Puhuhuhu… You can’t even order around your own classmates! Aren’t you supposed to be a ruler? A leader?”

Yes, yes he was. He was the SHSL Supreme Ruler of all things! He led over thousands of people towards a goal unknown to the world, he charmed and lied and cheated his way into the position he had today, he had broken promises and hearts to obtain power so few people could gain in their lifetime! He was in total control at all times of every aspect of not just his life, but all those who follow him. He had people who would jump for him without asking why, he had people who would kill for him if he just gave the order to, he could obtain anything he wanted and tell anyone to do anything…

So why did he feel this way? With all the power, the infamy, the people, the possessions, Ouma just couldn’t shake off the lingering, cold feeling gripping his heart… Something wasn’t right, it didn’t feel right… why wasn’t this right anymore?

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Lin-Manuel Miranda: It’s ‘No Accident’ Hamilton Came To Me On Vacation (HuffPo):

“There’s no magic pill for it. No ginger, no apple cider vinegar will substitute a good night of sleep,” said Miranda. “I do believe we make our worst decisions when we’re tired.”

Huffington, who has seen the musical three times, wrote about the link between Alexander Hamilton’s lifelong workaholism, lack of sleep and his fatally poor decision-making in a May story for HuffPost. In it, she wondered whether his lack of sleep influenced not just Hamilton’s decision to couple up with romantic partner Maria Reynolds, but his agreement to participate in a duel with his political enemy, Aaron Burr.

What connection did his burnout have with his untimely death?,” she wrote. “When you find yourself walking to a duel at dawn — after you had lost your son in a duel three years earlier — it’s fair to ask if you’re mustering all the wisdom you’re capable of.”

The link between rest and creativity

The happy flip side of the link between fatigue and poor decision making, however, is the link between relaxation and creativity. Miranda has won Tony and Grammy awards, a MacArthur Genius grant and a Pulitzer Prize for his race-bending Broadway take on the founding fathers, and he credits the inspiration for the musical to one fateful trip.

“It’s no accident that the best idea I’ve ever had in my life — perhaps maybe the best one I’ll ever have in my life — came to me on vacation,” Miranda said.

“When I picked up Ron Chernow’s biography [of Hamilton], I was at a resort in Mexico on my first vacation from ‘In The Heights,’ which I had been working seven years to bring to Broadway,” he continued. “The moment my brain got a moment’s rest, ‘Hamilton’ walked into it.”

Episode 2 opens with Wakaba, who gets a raw deal in this story - she is here to play the archetype of the plain friend, but nobody has moves like her.

Touga wishes he could vogue like that.

Wakaba also has a direct line to the original author, divine Sophia herself. Look who wrote that book!

Wakaba can still hear the echoes of the story as it was, before the demiurge Ikuhara arrived to carry out his series of exacting compromises.

We move on to Touga’s elevator speech.  He has practiced it in front of a mirror – you know he has.

Now everyone who is unwise enough to enter an elevator with him knows exactly what the game’s about.

The speech is as follows: “If a chick cannot break its shell, it will die without being born. We are the chick.  The world is our egg.  If we do not break the world’s shell, we will die without being born. Smash the world’s shell – for the revolution of the world.”

So the point of the game is to grow up, and to grow up, you will have to destroy the structure that surrounds you.  As a metaphor it is clear as day, as long as you already know the answer.   It appears silly and arbitrary at first, and then fades into the background as it is repeated and repeated, until you accept it as part of the arcane rulebook of the world, and only at the last minute do you realize that it was a simple thing, all along, a simple instruction, and that nobody followed it, because they were too busy building harder and more complicated metaphors.

The speech is a title drop – the first time the world “revolution” is used – and in its silly seriousness and its obfuscatory clarity it is a tonal synecdoche for the whole dang show. It is very important, and Touga has no idea why.  The structure that surrounds him, the one that he’s supposed to smash, is designed for his benefit, and envelops him in a cloud of privilege that is invisible to him. There is no way he is going to smash that shell.  He is a Princeton undergrad quoting Marx to get girls.

Except he is in high school, and Utena is in middle school.  This is a useful fact to hang on to, as things progress.

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A painful arrangement.

Based on this imagine for imaginexhobbit

Characters: Legolas, Thorin, Reader, Fili, Kili

Paring: Thorin x dwarf reader

Warnings: angst, nswf, fluff

Word count: 3,370 (I got carried away OMG)

Okay so this is the very first time I write a fiction. I am sorry English isn’t my first language, I did my best to be coherent. Please bear with me, I do hope that you won’t be disappointed :) Also, this fiction can be continued if requested and appreciated. Let me know. Enjoy ! :)


You were finally living in Erebor, with the one you always loved. You were finally showing your love for him after months spent on a quest, living through the rough winter by his side. At first, it hadn’t been that easy for you and Thorin Oakenshield to end up together. There were many fights, many confrontations, especially when you decided not to listen to him and go on that quest.

As a dwarrow dam, you were considered as a precious being who didn’t need to be wasted in a battlefield among horrid creatures. But your stubbornness and determination to follow your one and only one, made you find your bravery. Therefore, you ended on a pony, traveling with the company and spending time with Fili and Kili.

The two princes were your close friends, the ones you could feel comfortable with. They were the ones who pushed you into their uncle’s arms, despite his stubbornness and the denial of his feelings towards you. The end of the quest has been better for you as the anger of the dwarven King slowly faded and let his true feelings invade him.

The battle had been a rough one, one that scared you to death: as your beloved had killed the pale Orc, he still ended injured and you were convinced that you would never see him again. But thanks to the herbs that Oin possessed, Thorin survived and soon rose on the throne of Erebor after a few weeks of rest.

Life was better, finally moving and offering the possibility to live it by Thorin’s side. You would find him at nights, after a hard day spent with the council, and spend the night by his side, kissing and cuddling. Despite the fact that he was the King, he still had to respect a courtship with you before going further, which was highly frustrating for the both of you, especially when things were getting steamy. You both had to stop and separate before violating the rules. This was of course making you laugh and rising the complicity that you had. You were already seeing yourself as the future Queen of Erebor, the mother his children, his wife and true love.

But sadly, that happiness soon went interrupted when on that first morning of winter, a particular visitor came and interrupted the daily life of the kingdom. Legolas, son of Thranduil, elven prince of Mirkwood, approached the throne and bowed towards Thorin. You couldn’t stop but have that hatred feeling, especially when his eyes laid on you. You felt a chill run down your spine and something was telling you that a bad thing would happen…

« Good morning, Lord Thorin. I see that you have rebuilt Erebor. This place is now back to its majesty. » declared the blond elf.

« Indeed. I’m glad that you arrived that soon. » Thorin answered.

This last sentence caught your attention and you turned your head to look at him a bit surprised. Since when was your beloved that welcoming towards an elf ? Something was definitely going wrong and you could feel your heart beating faster. Legolas smiled at Thorin and looked at you:

« Lady y/n, as beautiful as always… » started the elven prince. He had that sparkle in the eyes, as if he knew he had won such a precious trophy.  « May I add that I’m very honored to leave this place with you…. »

Thorin tried to stop him but it was too late. You had turned your head to look at him, trying to seek for an explanation. Leave this place with him ? What in Mahal’s world was that elf talking about ?

« Thorin ? »

« Y/n, there is something I need to tell you… »

« Indeed, you do.. »

« Legolas, would you mind if I talked to her first ? » asked the dwarven king.

« Okay, I will wait outside. » the elven prince suggested.

As he slowly faded in such a graceful move, you felt your breath hardening and your heart racing. At that moment, you knew that something was about to happen. When you locked your y/e/c into the azur ones that you fell in love with, you could notice sadness, emptiness.

« Thorin…. » you started, feeling the lump in your throat.

« Y/n, I am so sorry my love… I just have to do this in order to keep a courteous relationship with my new allies. Legolas had asked me to offer you to him. He… Fell in love with you since the first day he met you…. That’s all he wants and I can’t… Jeopardize this… » explained in a painful tone the dwarven King.

That’s it. You felt like a punch in your stomach, as if you were about to vomit. Your heart broke, hurt you so deeply that you couldn’t even breathe. You had to put a hand on the marbled wall to support your entire body. Your legs started shaking and anger soon got out of your own mouth.

« What in Mahal’s hell have you done ? I do not want to live with him ! I want YOU, Thorin ! Don’t do this, don’t break this courtship, this future I want with you ! Don’t break me…. »

« Y/n, the decision has been made. There is no way to go back on that. » argued Thorin, his eyes darker than before. You could feel the anger rising as well on his side.

« I won’t go. »

« Don’t be stubborn. »

« I said: I. Won’t. Go. »

« You will have to. Because I’m now in the obligation of chasing you out of this kingdom. And if you do not obey to your own king, I will ban you. Am I clear ? » asked in such a cold and bossy tone the rightful King of Erebor.

« …. Clear. » you spat, despise and pain expressing the way you felt.

He had betrayed you. There was no way back for you to ever forgive him. As he tried to approach you to caress your face, you stepped back, glaring at him. The look on his face was painful and he nodded his head before adding in such a whisper. « Go… He will treat you well… I will always love you, there will never be a Queen of Erebor other than you. »

« No you don’t. If you did love me, you would’ve jeopardize your relationship with the elves and fought not to give me away like a vulgar piece of meat. »

You slowly stepped back and felt your tears rolling down your cheeks. Fili and Kili slowly entered the hall and discovered you all hurt and crying. As they tried to question their uncle, Thorin turned his back on them and slowly disappeared in his own quarters, not even accompanying you to your new betrothed. Fili turned his head and realized that the rumor that has run down the corridors was real. He approached you and hugged you tight.

« I’m so sorry, y/n… » murmured the golden-haired prince in your ear.

« I am sorry too, Fili… » you looked at him and took a deep breath before looking at Kili as well: « Please.. Make sure that he’s fine… No matter how furious I am right now, I will always love him. »

Both princes nodded and slowly stepped back, letting you go and meet Legolas. The prince bowed to you and offered you a gentle smile. He helped you climb on his horse and did it as well. He wrapped his arms around your body, which made you shiver. What would your future be ? A future as the new princess of Mirkwood ? Bearing a mix of elven and dwarves children ? Dying before your husband, leaving with this eternal pain of not sharing a death with your true beloved ?

As you were wandering in all those thoughts, Legolas leaned closer to warm you. This kind of tenderness made you feel awkward but at least reassured due to all the soft moves the prince was doing with you.

« Do not fear, lady y/n. I will love you and treat you like my dear princess. » reassured the elven prince. You ignored his words and let the tears roll down your cheeks as the horse was galloping fast, taking you away from your own place.


Two years had passed since Thorin made his fatal decision about you. Despite all the efforts that Legolas was doing to make you happy and well treated, your heart ached each night for the king of Erebor. Legolas would give you anything you’d want, be patient with you. The first night of your wedding had been difficult. You had let your new husband consume the wedding on you, making you wince at each move, tears of physical but also mental pain rolling down your cheeks. He would reassure you and make sure that you’d be fine.

The following months of that arranged marriage had been peaceful. Until the day Thranduil sent Legolas to the battlefield, knowing that his prodigious son would return soon. But he never did.

One morning, while you were walking down the gardens of Mirkwood, you noticed guards coming back and going straight to the throne room, holding something. You frowned and walked straight in the same direction to meet your father-in-law.

There, you found the lifeless body of your husband. A poisoned arrow planted straight on the left side of his chest, in his heart. The king, with his emotionless attitude, waved the guards to bring the corpse in his private chambers. Even though you could feel at the first impression that he didn’t care, Thranduil was definitely destroyed. For the second time of his life.

You looked at him and felt the lump in your throat while you tried to find your words, comforting ones towards him.

« My Lord… I am truly sorry… This loss is devastating, Legolas was a good husband, a wonderful warrior and beautiful prince… » you started.

« We shall burry him close to the river, where I buried his mother. » stated the king, pain being noticeable in voice.

You nodded your head and decided to retire in the quarters you shared with Legolas, in order to give the king some time to process the devastating news.

As you close the door behind yourself, you let the tears roll down your cheeks. Even though you didn’t love the elf like you loved Thorin, he still had been a wonderful husband. He had always treated you right and even made you laugh sometime when you felt nostalgia invading you. What would you do now ? Stay with the elves ? You didn’t have any other reason to live here. You weren’t even carrying his heir, you never manage to fall pregnant.

When the guards carried the corpse of your husband, you followed them, walking by Thranduil’s side. They had changed Legolas into a silver dress, with a silver crown and white flowers surrounding the elf. The ceremony was intimate, Thranduil stayed a long moment staring at the dead face of his son. Then, he turned his head to look at you and whispered:

« Go… Return back to Erebor… Legolas is dead and his wishes were to let you return to your true love if anything happened. » stated Thranduil.

« But I don’t have any true love anymore. » you added in such a sincere tone.

« Y/n, thank you for making those two last years of my son’s life the best ones. I will forever be grateful to you. It’s time for you to have your real happiness happen. Now go, I will send guards escorting you to the rightful King of Erebor. »

As you tried to protest, Thranduil waved with his hand so you could leave him alone, grieving. This still made your heart ache. You had somehow grown fond of the elves, of your husband. You were even convinced that you would end loving Legolas sincerely and truly. But now it wouldn’t ever happen.

The guards escorted you out of Mirkwood, slowly returning to Erebor. As you were approaching the mountain, you could feel that bad sensation in your stomach, the same you had when you had found that Thorin had given you away. You didn’t even want to talk to him, to even see him.

Unfortunately for you, the first one standing on the balcony when you arrived was him. Thranduil had probably sent a raven to inform Thorin about the devastating news.

The guards let you go and you slowly slid down from the horse and looked at them. You bowed your head to them and and walked in the direction of your old home.

As you passed in front of Thorin, the king tried to talk to you but you ignored him. You didn’t want to talk to him, to even see his face. You slammed your door and locked it in order to be alone and recover from those past two years.


Two months after your return to Erebor, life slowly return back to normal. You would work just like before, spend some time with your dear friends Fili and Kili. Speaking about them, you were now sharing a chop of ale on that first night of autumn with them.

« You still don’t speak to him ? » asked the golden-haired prince.

« No, and I don’t have any intention to change this. »

« Come on, it’s been two years now, y/n… » started Kili.

« Maybe, but I will never forgive him for what he has done to me. » you answered in a stubborned tone.

« Let him at least one chance ? » begged Fili.

« And why do you even care if I may ask ? » you raised an eyebrow, questioning him.

« …. Because these past two years…. »

« He had been blaming himself for doing such a mistake. » continued Kili. « He’s been grumpy, angry and suffering. You were right, he shouldn’t have done that and he realized it. Then, when the raven brought the news about Legolas’ death, his face lightened in almost a relief as he knew you would return… »

« This still won’t make me forgive him for what he did. » you stated.

« Y/n, come on… » both princes begged.

« I’ll see what I can do. If I don’t throw my ale on him, consider this as the biggest effort I can do. »

Both princes laughed and moved on with another conversation, one that could cheer you up until you found the moment to have a discussion with Thorin.

It was when you left the tavern, when you walked down the corridors to join our own house that you felt a hand caress your arm before catching it. You turned your head and finally met those azur eyes, the ones you had loved for so long.

« Y/n…. »

« Hi. » you said in a cold tone.

« I am so sorry for what I have done. I shouldn’t ever have done it. Are you okay ? Has he hurt you ? » immediately asked the king, walking closer to detail your face, seeking for any bruise on your face.

« No. He has been more than loving to me. » you said, emotion betraying you as you were closer to him, breathing his scent and feeling his warmth.

« Good. He honored his promise. » stated the king.

« But I will never forgive you. »

« I know… I do hope that with time you will allow me to approach you. »

« I’d rather not. You damaged me, Thorin. I can’t even… Look at you anymore… Please let me go. » you slowly stepped back despite your envy to kiss him and love him.

« Please, y/n…. »

« No. Goodnight Thorin. »

As you turned around to leave, you suddenly felt his hand wrapped around your arm pulling you into his arms. You gasped but soon felt him pushing you with his hips against a wall. He was a bit taller than you, stronger. You found yourself locked against the wall, with no exit as his arms were blocking you.

« Thorin.. What… »

But you didn’t have time to finish your sentence that his lips landed on yours. A rough but passionate kiss that slowly made you return to your old times with him. You closed your eyes and slowly wrapped your arms around his neck while returning it. Mahal, did you miss him. His rough body, his attitude, his love for you. You opened your mouth to let his tongue slide into it, meet with yours. His hands slid upper, caressing your back and pressing his hips on your lower stomach.

He suddenly pulled away and looked at you in the eyes.

« Come…. » whispered the king, already pulling you back in his own quarters.

You didn’t even resist. You soon followed him and let him slam the door behind you both. There, Thorin grabbed you and carried you into his arms before slowly lying you in his bed. You looked at him with amazement. He slowly took his tunic off, revealing his hairy chest while he kicked off his boots. So this was happening. You would finally make love to the one you always wanted in your life. As he slowly laid onto you, his teeth started biting your neck, leaving you marks, as if he wanted to show you that from now on, you would be his and only his.

« Mine…. » whispered Thorin. « I love you, y/n…. »

« What about the courtship ? And who says I want you do this ? » you asked, your stubborned tone inquiring his true feelings.

« Oh but you won’t have the choice. Tonight, you’re giving yourself to me, your true love and husband. Tonight we will unite and I will never let you go. Tonight I will do what I should’ve done a long time ago… And you will be a fine Queen, a fine wife. And a fine mother. »

« Mother? » you smiled at his words, caressing his face.

« Tonight I’m making you love. Then, Mahal will decide if it’s tonight or the several other nights in which our love child will be conceived. »

« You’re moving fast. » you stated, your index caressing his bearded cheek.

« I don’t have time to waste anymore. I already wasted two years and four months of my life away from you. » breathed desperately the king.

« Then let’s start right now. » you kissed him passionately while you helped him strip your clothes off.

The king got rid off the rest of his clothes and started kissing you all over your body. His tongue rolled down your breast, making you moan at each bite he was giving on your hardened nipples. His rough hands caressed your intimacy, giving you little jumps as he started giving you pleasure. But he soon stop, before you even came as he wanted you to finish at the same time than him.

He positioned himself before locking his eyes into yours and slowly sliding into you. You linked your lips together and let him give you a rough thrust, causing you to gasp. He slowly kissed your neck, sucked it, bit it. His hips rocked hard, then tenderly to go back to hard. Having him into you was such a delight, your fingers running down his back, your body welcoming him entirely. You had dreamed about that moment for so long.

Slowly, the pleasure started rising, making you whisper his name. Many times, Thorin whispered in your ear loving words, asking you to scream his name louder, to let the entire kingdom know that you were his and only his. Your loving session lasted long. But when you felt your climax reach, you noticed that he did as well, spilling his own seed into you. He soon collapsed next to you and pulled you into his arms for a tender embrace. He kissed the top of your head and looked at you in the eyes.

« I promise you that from now on, you will never leave my side, y/n. I love you…. » he whispered.

« I love you too, Thorin… » you finally admitted before kissing his lips again. « And I’m forever yours as well… No matter what… »

Thorin caressed your face tenderly, his beautiful smile making you already melt. You closed your eyes and slowly fell asleep, knowing that those past two years, despite all the anger you had towards Thorin at that moment, were gone for good. Future was now the only thing you wanted to worry about. With him. The rightful King of Erebor.


“Perhaps it’s that you can’t go back in time, but you can return to the scenes of a love, of a crime, of happiness, and of a fatal decision; the places are what remain, are what you can possess, are what is immortal. They become the tangible landscape of memory, the places that made you, and in some way you too become them. They are what you can possess and what in the end possesses you.”

Rebecca Solnit, from “The Blue of Distance” A Field Guide to Getting Lost (Viking, 2005)

The monster I’ve known,
has solemnly grown
I claw at my skin,
your home is within

the taste on my tounge,
bitter yet sweet
the taste in my veins,
fire wrought deep

I’ve bought my train ticket,
straight down to hell
you introduced me to heaven,
just to kiss me farewell

cold sweats and tear steaks,
staining my face
I shake as I try to,
refuse your embrace

I hear your warm voice,
dancing within my ear
ringing with laughter,
the fatality clear

you taunt and you scream,
for one more taste
til’ I welcome you back,
my soul yours to take

I cringe at the thought,
of all I have done
the fatal decision;
the noose, the rung

another victim,
of poppy seed waste
freedom is something,
I’ll never again taste

you signed my grave stone,
as soon as we begun
til death do us part,
you whispered, my love.
—  My fatal addiction

Lina Cavalieri described as “the most beautiful woman in the world,” was an Italian opera singer, actress, and monologist. She was born into poverty on Christmas day, 1874 and died surrounded by valuable jewels on February 7, 1944 during an allied bombing raid. Hearing of an American bomber nearby, Cavalieri was on her way to the air-raid shelter when she decided to run back to the house to fetch her valuable jewelry. This proved to be a fatal decision and she was buried under the rubble of her own home.

I need to get this off my chest

People hate Man of Steel because Clark snaps Zod’s neck at the end. “OH NO, HE’S A TERRIBLE SUPERMAN BECAUSE SUPERMAN DOESN’T KILL PEOPLE!” On one thing, you’re right. Superman doesn’t kill people. THAT’S THE POINT!! That’s the measure of a hero, “not by the size of his strength, but by the strength of his heart”-Zeus(Hercules 1997).
Something that everyone seems to forget is that Superman does kill Zod in the comics. That wasn’t just some spin off or a one-time “this doesn’t matter” comic strip, it was cannon(which is really hard to determine considering how many times the DC universe has been rebooted), and it’s in Superman II with Christopher Reeve(the best). He had to think it over, and it was a real struggle for him to go through. He finally came to the hardest choice to make. He realized that just sending Zod back to the Phantom Zone over and over was doing nothing, and Zod was simply not going to stop.

This is shown in the movie too.
Kal- “Don’t do this!…Stop!”
Zod- “Never.”
Zod was born with the purpose to do what he believed to be right for the good of his people. That was the whole point of his actions throughout the movie. Something Michael Shannon said about the mental processes of Zod was that a major question he felt Zod was basically asking throughout the film was “Why don’t you understand why I’m doing this?” This was a man driven with the power of belief. He’s just like anyone with the strong conviction to accomplish the task before them that they truly believe in. So you can imagine the torment he must’ve gone through when all that remained of the planet he loved was only himself and Kal. “My soul. That is what you have taken from me.” I’m not defending what Zod did. I’m defending what happened as a result.
Knowing all of this about Zod, and knowing what he was capable of, Kal had to make that fatal decision. And you can see it in his eyes as he holds Zod’s head in his arms that HE DIDN’T WANT TO DO THIS. He even closed his eyes before he did it because he didn’t want that image of himself taking the life of another by his own free will haunting him.
Superman isn’t an idiot.
Even now, at this early stage of his long career as a hero, he knows and understands the risks he’s going to have to take, and the hard choices he’ll have to make. And the hardest choice to make as a hero is to take the life from someone else. It’s the hardest choice to make because heroes. don’t. kill people. A hero only EVER kills when it’s the absolute last resort they can possibly choose. Kal knows that. He was raised in Kansas for Pete’s sake. Killing is not something that a person who’s in the business of saving lives does with ease. And it’s impossible to miss that it was NOT easy to do. Look at him.

How can you see his reaction and say that this is a man who’s happy to have blood on his hands? Unlike in the comic, Kal didn’t have time to think it over. He was asked to make that decision in an instant.
But, this was a very pivotal moment. This is when the boy truly became the man. His first really difficult choice. His first last resort. He only did it because there simply was no other way. Stop hating. Because this is why we need Superman.

Heroes have the strength to do what is necessary for the greater good.