i know that a king protects his people or he is no king at all

What we really need is an adaptation of the original 1740 The Beauty and the Beast

So were you aware that the The Beauty and the Beast story we all know is a heavily abridged and rewritten version of a much longer novella by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve?  And that a lot of the plot holes existing in the current versions exist because the 1756 rewrite cut out the second half of the novella, which consisted entirely of the elaborate backstory that explains all the weird shit that happened before?  And that the elaborate backstory is presented in a way that’s kind of boring because the novel had only just been invented in 1740 and no one knew how they worked yet, but contains a bazillion awesome ideas that beg for a modern retelling?  And that you are probably not aware that the modern world needs this story like air but the modern world absolutely needs this story like air?  Allow me to explain:

The totally awesome elaborate backstory that explains Beauty and the Beast

  • Once upon a time there was a king, a queen, and their only son
  • But while the prince was still in his infancy, in a neat reversal of how these fairy tales usually go, the king tragically died, leaving his wife to act as Regent until their son reaches maturity
  • Unfortunately, the rulers of all the lands surrounding them go, “Hmm, the kingdom is ruled by a woman now, it must be weak, time for an invasion!”
  • And the Queen goes, “Well, if I let some general fight all these battles for me, he’ll totally amass enough fame and power to make a bid for the throne; if I want to protect my son’s crown, I have no choice but to take up arms and lead the troops myself!
  • (Btw, I want to stress that this woman is not Eowyn or Boudica and nothing in the way her story is presented suggests that she had any interest martial exploits before or in any way came to enjoy them during these battles.  This is a perfectly ordinary court lady who would much rather be embroidering altar covers for the royal chapel and playing with her child until necessity made her go, “Oh no, this sucks, I guess I have to become a Warrior Queen now” and she just happened to kick ass at it anyway.)
  • And the Queen totally kicked ass, but the whole “twice as good for half the credit” thing meant that no matter how many battles she won, potential enemies refused to take her and her army seriously until she had defeated them so no sooner would she fend off one invasion than another one would pop up on a different border.
  • So she spent the majority of her young son’s life away from the castle leading armies, but it was OK because she left him in the care of her two best friends, who just happen to be fairies!  This was an awesome idea because a) fairies have magic, and therefore are like the best people to protect the prince from any threats and b) fairies consider themselves to be so above humanity that the lowest fairy outranks the highest mortal, so they’d have no interest in taking a human throne.  Good thing they were both good fairies instead of one good and one evil one!
  • (Spoiler:  they were not both good fairies.)
  • So the two fairies basically take turns raising the prince until he’s old enough to rule.  And on the eve of his twenty-first birthday, the evil older one comes into the prince’s bedroom.
  • “So listen, kid.  You’re about to become king, your mother’s on her way home from the war to see you crowned, and I have a third piece of good news for you!  You see, I’ve actually been spending so much time here lately because Fairyland’s become a bit too hot to hold me for reasons totally not related to me being secretly evil.  And if I have to hang in the human world, I might as well reside in the upper echelons of it, so even though as a powerful fairy I completely eclipse your puny human status in a staggeringly unimaginable way, since you’re about to be king and since my premonition that I should stick this whole guardianship thing out because you would be hot one day has totally proved accurate (go me), I will graciously lower myself to allowing you to marry me.  Please feel free to grovel at my feet in gratitude.  (Btw, we can totally start the wedding night now, we’ll tell your mother about it when she arrives tomorrow.)”

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Prince Aladdin

i just rewatched aladdin with the roommates and it got me thinking

aladdin wishes to be made a prince, but all genie does is get him a lot of stuff and money. that’s not what a prince is. a prince is the son of the king, someone in line for the throne. someone with a lot of money is just - rich. so what i think is:

genie goes okay, that’s a big one - and i can do it! but not on my own, not if you want to do it right. not if you truly want a chance to marry your princess for real, as a prince. and aladdin is a foolish, moral, kind boy - and he agrees. he’s fallen in love with jasmine, an innocent all encompassing love, and he’ll do anything for this sweet, clever girl he only knew for a few hours. so genie takes him across the desert, far from agrabah, and plops right in the middle of a skirmish and is like okay, good luck! and aladdin is like ?????

but there’s assholes with swords attacking a young girl, and aladdin doesn’t even have to think about that, just like when he stood in front of the whip for those little kids. there are three men against him, but he’s fast and clever and has been against a dozen trained palace guards. so it’s not easy to get out of there alive, especially with the little girl to protect, but he manages it with only a thin slice on his upper arm, and he’s endured worse for less. so he picks up the little girl and says “i think we should get out of here, hmm?” and she’s in a pretty red silk getup with tiny jewels encrusted on her like stars against sunset. and she nods and throws her arms around his neck. she won’t talk, only points in the direction of home, but aladdin’s okay with that, he’s used to quiet, scared kids. so he keeps up a steady stream of stories of agrabah, which seems almost like this other desert land. but there are more men with swords and aladdin is like what the fuck is going on, but he hides the girl in a corner and fights them too. and that’s how it goes all the way home. there’s no one on the streets really, and they all scatter when the men attack, and they keep on attacking, he fights his way all the way through the city with the girl on his hip or hidden away.

and he should have known, of course, but he was tired and bruised and bleeding by the time he realized the little girl is silently guiding him to the palace and he’s like why can’t you princesses stay inside??? but he walks up and the guards get one look at the child in his arms and whisk him through and multiple people try to take the girl away but she won’t budge from him, a stubborn pout to her lips as her hands remained locked behind his neck. and he’s finally tossed into a throne room where a tall old man is sitting in agony and two young men pace in front of him, each at least a decade older than aladdin. “they’ve taken our sister!” one of the younger men hiss, “i don’t care about their power or their connections, they’ve taken esfir, and we must go get her!”

“uh,” he clears his throat, “hi?”

and all three men whirl on him and the old man stumble-runs to him. esfir finally lets go of aladdin to picked up and twirled around by her father. the two men are rahim and shapur and they look in wonder at this dirty boy of fifteen who’s returned the girl to them, and he speaks with an accent and clearly is not from here and they get the story from him - he’s traveled across the desert because those in his own country want him dead. “you know,” rahim says as the king clutches at esfir in desperate relief, “you could have held her for ransom. you almost died saving her, and we would have paid handsomely to have her returned safely.”

and aladdin gives him a flat disapproving look, appearing in this moment four times his age, and says “people are not objects or bargaining chips. especially not lost little girls.” and rahim and shapur share an impressed conspiring look and they each grab one of his arms and lead him away. “hey! what are you -”

“do be quiet little brother,” shapur says cheerfully, “we really have to get you out of your rags.”

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Can I just say I have a lot of opinions about JJ, especially from a Westerner’s point of view? Specifically, the way he’s treated by the other skaters in YOI? JJ is loud, boisterous, and toots his own horn at every chance. Does this make him a bad guy? No way. In fact, all it does is paint a picture of how the rest of the world views people from America. Now, I’m from the US, so I can’t really speak for Canada, but I have quite a few Canadian friends and we are all, by definition, “North Americans”. I notice that our cultures aren’t really that different- specifically our social culture. Most Western young men act A LOT like JJ does- making jokes at other peoples’ expenses, trying to one-up everyone around them, be it verbally or otherwise, being really competitive and thriving in a competitive atmosphere, and generally just being very loud and obnoxious. 

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Sunday Morning

Summary: A young man and a young woman run into one another on a Sunday morning at a coffee shop, both of them heartbroken, and rediscover what it means to love and be loved. Bucky x Reader 

 Author’s Note: I’ve been working on this one for a bit. It’s basically the feel-good romance no one ever expected me to write (me included) 

 Words: ~2900

Originally posted by writingandcoffeehouse

Bucky used to love Sunday mornings. They were meant for sleeping in, for curling against the soft, tender body that slept next to him.

They’d had five years of Sunday mornings, of her soft sighs in his ear as she stirred from her sleep, bright green eyes blinking sleepily up at him as he kissed her plush, pink lips. Five years of Sunday mornings, of making coffee in a pair of boxers; of her arms wrapping around him from behind, a soft cheek against his bare back. Five years of Sunday mornings, of sitting at the breakfast bar in their pajamas, her thumb wiping jelly off the corners of his mouth.

Five years of Sunday mornings, wasted.

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Dark Souls’ Kings And Lords

Gwyn: I will raise this son as a daughter and in general take a whole diarrhea on him regardless of his merits and accomplishments because he was born aligned to a different aspect than me. I will also disown my other son and erase any records of his identity and history. I embarked on genocide of dragons for possibly very shady reasons, and was fully on board with a dangerous project to recreate that which cannot be replicated, resulting in a catastrophic failure that mutated a wise and peaceful civilization into murderous beast. You are supposed to feel bad about having to kill me, as the sad piano that plays while we duke it out suggests.

King of Oolacile: Dude, what if we totally dabbled in the forbidden arts with our golden sorceries (read: utility spells) as our only back-up and tortured this ancient conglomeration of twisted existences that we revived just to satisfy our sick curiosity? That’d be RAD, I hope nothing about this bites us in the ass down the lane, am I right.

The Four Kings: Man, it was really a challenge, but we finally got this whole New Londo jimjam going strong and steady! *phone rings* GUYS, THIS SNAKE THAT ANTAGONIZES EVERYTHING WE STAND FOR PROMISES TO TEACH US THE 120% ILLEGAL ART OF LIFEDRAIN, LET’S ROLL, I MEAN, WHAT’S THE WORST THAT COULD HAPPEN?

King Vendrick: *playing the harmonica off-note in his shitty crypt* I married this really hot chick but she turned out to be, like, a literal aspect of darkness hell-bent on the obliteration of civilization, so, hey, whatevs, man, you gotta compromise in marriage, right? *takes a swig of a black label Johnnie Walker* she then was like “honey, you gotta murderize that entire civilization of peaceful giants”, so we did! It was GREAT, we lost over half of our population, I redefined the concept of “war crime”, it was mad cool, man, well, except for the part where I realized what I had done, engaged full pussy mode, and locked myself in a crypt, where I took to wandering naked and afraid while my bodyguard protects me, despite the fact that I am insanely strong and immortal and wise. WHATCHA GONNA DO *LIFTS ARMS IN MOCK SURRENDER* *LAUGH TRACK PLAYS*

Duke Tseldora: SPIDERS

The Sunken King: Whew! That took a LOT of time, but we finally did it! We built a whole city around this slumbering dragon, our object of worship! This is, in no way, a dangerous idea at all. You know what is also not dangerous? Why, those famed Dragonslayers coming over by yonder, the Drakeblood Knights, led by Sir Yorgh, famed Dragonslayer! Let’s see what they want!

Old Iron King: LOOK AT ALL THIS METAL, HOMIE. LOOK AT MY COOL ASS SAMURAI MAN TEACHING MY KNIGHTS TO BE SAMURAI, HOMIE. LOOK AT THIS BITCHIN’ FUCKIN’ FORMER DRANGLEIC KNIGHT, RAIME, WHO CAME TO SERVE ME, HOMIE. YEAH BABY, WE GOT IT ALL IN THE IRON KINGDOM, WE GOT THESE CROSS-CULTURAL SAMURAI KNIGHTS PIMPING UP THE PLACE WITH PLATE ARMOR AND IAI, MAN, AND WE– H-hold on, Alonne, baby? Where you going, man? Baby, no, I can change, I swear, please come back, baby, NO, BABY, ALONNE *SHANKS ALONNE* aw fiddlesticks well I guess my kingdom goes to fuck now ‘cause I will throw the biggest, meanest tantrum in the history of big diaper pissbabies LET’S GO

Ivory King: Hello! I love you! Yes, you! Whoever is reading this, I love you! I really do! And while I love you a lot, there’s someone I love even more, and that’s my beautiful wife, Alsanna! God, I love my wife, she’s so beautiful and kind and smart, I just want her to be happy forever. I know, she’s a literal aspect of darkness who came with evil intentions and zealous desire to raze my lands, but, I know that anyone, anyone, is capable of redemption, and my love has confirmed that. I love my wife, and I love my kingdom Eleum Loyce, my capable knights, my beautiful tigers, my kingdom of snow and peace! Wanna know a secret? I built my kingdom right on top of the Old Chaos to contain it, to keep it in check, so it wouldn’t rampage across the world. Ah, I’m really sad to have to cut this short, but my soul, well, it wavers. After so many years of fighting it, my very fabric is yielding to the overwhelming chaos. As an ultimate act of sacrifice, I will give myself to the Flame, contain the whole essence of the Old Chaos within my body, and keep it wrested to the ground, so it can never harm anyone evermore. I am glad to have met you, but I must go now. Please live a wonderful life! Shout out to my beautiful wife!

Yhorm the Giant: *hands you the one thing that can kill him* I AM HONESTLY TRYING TO MAKE THINGS BETTER, PLEASE TRUST ME. AND IF I GO COO-COO, USE THAT TO KILL ME, AND ALSO, I AM PUTTING AWAY MY GREATSHIELD SO IT IS EASIER TO HIT ME IN CASE I GO BAD, BUT PLEASE, I AM JUST TRYING TO BE GOOD, BRUSH YOUR SEATBELT AND FASTEN YOUR TEETH.

Oceiros, the Consumed King: *spams your Facebook feed with photos of his invisible baby*

Nameless King: Funny story, but I am actually not a king. Anyways, check out these delayed attacks and these FPS drops.

Prince Lothric: What If Stay Home Instead

Heh, so, uh, yeah about those updates,,, ^^; to be fair, i blame @thesearchingastronaut and im weak for her ideas. *gestures at fic* case en point


Summary: Sharks and Mers used to live in harmony, then they were banned once Zarkon tried to eradicate the mers. For fifteen years it has been like this, and Lance was fed up with it. He was out exploring when he met a shark, and over the course of many months, they fell in love.Little did they know their true identities or how their relationship could heal the rift between another.

WC: 3689

Ao3


Lance’s fins curled as the scout continued on and on in front of the court. It was an update about the sharks. They were still outcasts, still limited to the other side of the trench, still not allowed to associate with any of the merpeople. Nothing had changed.

Lance looked at his mother and father from the corner of his eye. Their crowns shimmered in the lighting, the water distorting how bright they actually were. And still, the messenger droned on. Allura was looking just as bored as he was. Each month, they had a scout go to the trench and meet with a shark about the status of their clan. It was part of the agreement when King Alfor banished them to the other side of the trench after Zarkon’s downfall. The sharkman had tried to steal the throne and the hunting grounds of the merpeople, but it had been thanks to the few sharks that didn’t agree with their leader to do such a thing. Despite that, the merpeople were wary of the sharks, once seeing their teeth and sharp fins as protection but now as threats.

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French Nobility

Originally posted by slainte71

Who are the nobility?

In France, nobility was a quality of the individual, a legal characteristic that could be held or acquired, and conferred some rights and privileges; such as levied taxes in times of war (since the nobility was supposed to fight for the sovereign), or since the 17th century, only weaker taxing exceptions. Also, a number of military and civic positions were reserved for nobility.

How is it inherited?

Nobility was usually hereditary only through the male line; a nobleman could marry a commoner and keep his nobility, but a noblewoman could not. When the nobility was hereditary, even though it was transmitted through the father, a higher percentage of noble blood or a higher number of noble generations in the family could be important as well.

How is nobility acquired?

  • By Birth. Usually from the father since 1370 (only exceptions are nobility in Champagne until the 16th century and Bar until the French Revolution). Bastards of nobles became nobles when legitimated by letters of the sovereign until 1600, after that a separate act of ennoblement was required (except royal bastards, they were always nobles even with no legitimation).
  • By Office. Depending on the office, the holder became noble either after a number of years in office or immediately. This kind of nobility could be personal or hereditary for 2, 3 or more generations. Here we have nobles for fiscal offices (tax courts and state auditors), “noblesse de robe” (for judicial offices, members of the parliament or courts that have been in office for 20 years),  “noblesse de cloche” (municipal offices, the mayors of towns), administrative offices (the places on the household of the king and the secrétaires du Roi) and military commissions (since 1750 officers reaching the rank of general would receive hereditary nobility).
  • By Letters. Meaning, by royal grant, meaning that the king could always ennoble whoever he wished.

Could nobility be lost?

Yes it could. You lose it by failing to your failing duties (this was called “déchéance”, kind of like Athos in The Musketeers BBC series); by practising forbidden occupations (called “dérogeance”), like commerce or manual crafts or farming someone else’s land (farming your own or the King’s land was ok). Funny that medicine, glass-blowing, exploitation of mines, maritime commerce and wholesale commerce was acceptable. Also, if you were a woman and marry a commoner, your nobility is lost.

What about the titles?

To bear a title you had to be noble. And a title is a rank attached to a certain piece of land. So, there could be nobles with no titles.

  • Duc. A duke (from the Latin dux, “leader”) was originally the governor of a province and a military leader. He was the possessor of a “duché” (a duchy).
  • Comte. A count (from the Latin comes, “companion”), originally an appointee of the king governing a city and its immediate surroundings. He was the possessor of a comté (county) or a high-ranking official in the king’s immediate entourage called Counts Palatine (palace counts).
  • Marquis. Originally the governor of a “march”, a region at the boundaries of the kingdom in need of particular protection. He was the possessor of a marquisat (marquessate).
  • Vicomte. A viscount was originally the lieutenant of a count, either when the count was not at home or then the county was held by the King himself. He was the possessor of a vicomté (viscounty).
  • Baron. Originally a direct vassal of the king or another major feudal lord (a duke or count or so). The possessor of a baronnie (barony).
  • Châtelain. A castellan was the commander in charge of a castle. Few chastellanies survived with the title or “Sire” (sir).
  • Prince. Possessor of a principauté (principality). This title was not the same as the rank of Prince and did not give his possessor precedence at the court.
  • Seigneur. A lord, possessor of a lordship.
  • Chevalier. The equivalent of a “knighted” or a member of certain chivalric orders or the head of the King’s guardsmen. Not the same as the rank of Chevalier.

Wait. Titles and Ranks are not the same?

No, they were not. Because French people are crazy and this could not be easy at all. Let’s say that there were two kinds of “titles”: the ones linked to the fifes (the feudal real estates, meaning the duchies and counties, etc) and the personal ranks.

  • Fils de France/Filles de France. The sons and daughters of the King.
  • Petit-fils de France. The grandchildren of the King through the male line.
  • Prince du Sang/Princesse du Sang. A Prince/Princess of the Blood was a legitimate descendant of the King but was not part of the immediate family. Meaning that they were not Fils neither Petit-Fils de France.
  • Prince/Princess Légitimé. The legitimized children of the King or other males of his dynasty.
  • Prince Étranger. A foreign prince naturalized and recognized by the French court.
  • Chevalier. A rank assumed ONLY by the most noble families and the possessors of very high dignities in the court. Note that the ones with the title of Chevalier and the ones with the rank of Chevalier are addressed differently.
  • Écuyer. This rank (squire) was the one of the majority of nobles. It was a member of the nobility with no title.

How are they addressed?

For this section I’ll use an example name, so each way of addressing will be very clear. Let’s use the Marquis de Castelnau: Philippe-François d'Albignac.

  • The simpler way to address a noble is using Monsieur, Madame and Mademoiselle: here, we would address Philippe-Françoise simply as Monsieur.
  • But of course it cannot be that simple, you could not be sure about who and which Monsieur, Madame or Mademoiselle you’re talking about. So, there is a simple formula: Monsieur/Madame + de + last name or house = Monsieur de Albignac.
  • But you can also refer to someone by their title and not their last name: Monsieur/Madame + le/la + title = Monsieur le Marquis.
  • And you can be even more specific, since we wanna know, are we talking about the same Marquis? You’d use: Monsieur/Madame + le/la + title in full style = Monsieur le Marquis de Castelnau.

Those are the general ways, but it can be very tricky or specific according the rank and title. Here is another helping guide:

  • The King. Majesté, Your/His Most Christian Majesty, Your/His Majesty, Monsieur Le Roi.
  • The Queen. Majesté, Your/Her Most Christian Majesty, Your/Her Majesty, Madame La Reine.
  • The Dauphin (the eldest son of the King). Monsieur le Dauphin, His/Your Royal Highness, Monseigneur le Dauphin, His/Your Royal Highness Monseigneur le Dauphin.
  • The Dauphine (the Dauphin’s wife). Madame la Dauphine, Her/Your Royal Highness, Her Royal Highness Madame la Dauphine.
  • The Fils de France. Referred by their main title, except the Dauphin. I.e. Monsieur le Duc d’Anjou.
  • The Filles de France. Referred as Madame+their given name. Except the eldest daughter that was called Madame Royale until she married, and then that style is used by the next Fille de France. I.e. Madame Victoire.
  • The Petit-Fils/Petit-Filles de France. Addressed using their full style titles.
  • Prince du Sang/Princesse du Sang. Usually styled by their main ducal title, but other more precise titles were also used. It could be used: Monsieur le Prince, Madame la Princesse, Monsieur le Duc, Madame la Duchesse, and so on. In writing only the style Serene Highness was used.
  • Prince Légitimé/Princesse Légitimé. They took last names according to the branch of the House their father belonged and after the legitimization they were given a title. Males were given titles from their father’s lands, and therefore addressed as Monsieur and the title or last name; females were given the style of Mademoiselle de “X”.
  • Prince étranger. Basically addresses as Haut et puissant Prince or Your/His Highness. They are tricky to address, since they could have ANY other kind of title (literally any, from Prince to Chevalier, everything in between), then they could be called according to their first title and/or as Highness. Let’s take the example of Hercule Mériadec de Rohan, Duke of Rohan-Rohan; he could be addressed as: Monsieur le Duc de Rohan-Rohan, His Highness Hercule Mériadec de Rohan, His Highness Monsieur le Duc de Rohan-Rohan, His Highness Monsieur de Rohan, Monsieur de Rohan.

Other words to keep in mind to address nobility:

  • Monseigneur. Used for those of very high office and noble blood, like the Dauphin, cardinals, etc. Usually used only for adults.
  • Excellence. Ambassadors, foreign dignitaries.
  • Eminence. Mostly for cardinals, along with Monseigneur.
  • Monsieur le Chevalier. ONLY used when Chevalier is the rank.
  • Chevalier+last name. To address those who are knighted members of chivalric orders.
  • Sieur. Like Sir in English. Usually used for property holders that are not noble. It is used as Sieur + de + name of the land.
  • Gentilhomme. Used for ANY noble, from the King to the last écuyer.

I hope this works for you @meltingpenguins :D

There will be a second part on English Nobility.

Made of skin and bones

Originally posted by dalekhane

(not my gifs!)

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader

Warnings: Language, A/B/O dynamics

Summary: Due to the premature death of the King of your clan, his son, the alpha James Barnes, must assume his destiny and lead his people. As the tradition commands, he must choose some worthy omegas to make their his wives and with which he will ensure the subsistence of your clan. All the omega women are obliged to appear before their king, including you. Luckily for you, you would never be chosen… right?

Tags: @i-want-to-fuck-that-dorito-man @38leticia @jasura @melconnor2007 @hollycornish @saharzek @rda1989 @magellan-88 @madoxx3 @bexboo616 @missinstantgratification @i-had-a-life-once @fourtyninekirbygamzeegirl @cassandras-musings @drakkatz @sophia-wyszkowski @omega-spanglass @gingerbatchwife @chaoticlogics @cry-me-a-fkin-river @tastefulcaring @buckys-shield @melanin–senpai @magical-otaku-panda @xkaciesearlex @mariadrinaa @table-108 @fashun–deevah @ifoundlove-x0vanessa0x @eternal-queen @hislipbite @38leticia @void–life @myst-muse @paranoid-borderline-insane @puddinsgal @xxe-mi-lyxx @iamwarrenspeace @katalina-from-hellbound 


1.Wolves

2. Chess

- M-me…?

A chorus of scoffs and gasps from the other girls echoes though the walls making you feel minuscule and ashamed, but Bucky doesn’t even blink giving you a nearly imperceptible nod. 

- Thank you everyone for coming - his potent voice fire all the other women in the room without breaking eye contact with you - the meeting is over

Soon the room gets filled with scoffs of indignation and suffocated curses of the rejected women and you want the ground to swallow you whole.

- Follow me - he says before turning his back to you and giving to his guards a signal that you suppose it’s for them to make sure that you don’t jump over a window. 

- Wan… - you search confort in your sister opening and closing your mouth without utterly understanding what’s happening. She is still looking at you wide eyed but she quickly shakes her head and push you towards the guards

- Go Y/N, go - she whispers - I’ll come to visit you, I promise

- No, no,no… Wanda I don’t… 

- Miss, please, follow us - one of the guards places gently his hand on your shoulder as a subtle order.

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Fairy Tail Chapter 536 Review

Yeah… Lets give this hot mess a once over

Cover is of the oracion seis arc. Y’know, A lot of people like the Oracio Seis as characters and that’s fine but I’ve heard many say the Oracion Seis is the arc where the quality of FT had a dip for the first time. If that is accurate than this is the most fitting cover in a while…

We open on Natsu and Zeref clashing. This will be the last scene that makes a lick of sense.

Natsu’s burning magic… I don’t know how the fuck that’s possible given the fact he hasn’t eaten Atlas’s hell flames

oh but we need to get to the next layer of bull shit and that’s back with BP and Jellal

Let’s break down the stupid of this page, first why is it going to blow up? Seriously this damage is nearly the same as the damage taken in the OS arc, but the christina didn’t explode. Actually I can tell you why it’s going to explode, “we need to add a level of urgency to make the scene more engaging” But you know, your facing the king of dragons so really there’s already enough tension.

Second, Your right, HOW IS IT FLYING!? Last time it lost a wing it took 3 mages with very specific powers to make it fly!

Third, Your mission, Anna? Hahaha Your damn mission was to make sure those dragon slayers made it across the gate, the mission to beat acnologia was theirs. Fuck off…

Oh fuck off. How does the fact it doesn’t have enough magic to fly suddenly become negated when Ichiya’s at the helm?

Oh, now isn’t this sweet. I’m suppose to care about the comic relief character in a guild that has been the butt monkey of this series for years and it’s the same comic relief character who appeared in this arc being completely useless? Gag me…

First of all, are you kidding me? Seriously? OK I thought Jellal doing this WAS protecting Erza. Because when plot convenience isn’t involved, ERZA DOES FINE PROTECTING HERSELF! Also, Jellal’s going to do a bang up job protecting her with all his bones broken.

But hey there’s a reason this needed to happen, Ichiya has constantly thought as Erza being his love interest but this is here to obviously show that Ichiya cares about her happiness and gives his blessing to jellal… OH WHAT FRESH HELL! Okay, Jellal doesn’t even know Ichiya has the hots for erza nor did he exhibit any of his running joke about hitting on erza, so now your scene loses weight to it.

This is something I will get into on the post chapter follow up but now we have the prioritizing of Jerza ruining the over all narrative.

So they ram the ship into Acnologia

oh god no

NO NO NO NO NO

Oh if this crap wasn’t bad enough I have something intercut between this moment and it’s something I know everyone’s dying to see: Nakama power defeating the final villain…

I love how not even Zeref is sure of this bull crap at first as if he knows this’ll never get a good explanation. Also this power to beat White Zeref comes from Natsu’s “Wild emotions”, call me crazy but I’m pretty damn sure last chapter this power was the the strength of the guild. Guess I should now expect not even continuity from a chapter ago not to be consistent.


Y’know for the mighty clash of flames between the Dragon king and white wizard thee guild is still in good shape

Wait why should I care about semantics when I have this to cut to…

Yep, Acnologia, king of dragons, Black Dragon of the apocalypse, was just defeated by a plot convenience hole, a comic relief character who isn’t even a member of Fairy Tail, and a character who was introduced not even 10 chapters ago…

No Jenny… No one won. Well at least none of the fans of Fairy tail did…

ggggggggggggGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGAAAAAAAAAAHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FAIL! YOU FAIL! GAHHHHH!!!!!!

*huff* *huff* OKAY believe it or not there’s still some chapter left to go

Yeah I’m surprised that recovery magic didn’t activate a little sooner.

Wow, even Natsu has gotten tired of this crap. Oh Zeref has become black again meaning he no longer hast Fairy Heart.

Post chapter follow up: OH WHERE DO I EVEN START! Well lets start at the end, there are those who will say “Acnologia will be back, there’s still 10 chapters left”. I don’t think so. There’s no indication of that being possible and the characters who were sacrificed were two non FT characters meaning there’s no urgency for their happy ending. Hiro wrote Acnologia so strong that there was no way he could write a decent way to beat Acnologia without having a deus ex machina involved. I don’t have the faith Acnologia comes back, I don’t know what comes next week or the week after but if Acnologia does come back great but right now… I have no words.

Zeref’s defeat, if this had happened on it’s own and it was the whole point of the chapter, then honestly I wouldn’t have hated it so much. I know this is something we try not to let spoil the story and it’s that we know Natsu will win. No matter how high the deck is stacked we know he would have won. But all of this feels so undeserved. The power of all the guilds feelings in the form of a pseudo fire dragon king mode able to overcome infinite power is just horse crap. But even so I actually might have accepted it if portrayed in a wa\y that makes great white wizard look like a moron. While I give props you manged to show the arm being burned, knowing wendy is in the guild those burns will last an hour at most.

Now the sacrifice of Anna, I’ve called that since she showed up so honestly I’m not surprised. But Jellal cheats death. I can’t help but wonder the idea of sacrificing Jellal to protect the woman he loves would’ve made an excellent parallel to simon. SHowing Jellal has come full circle, that even in death not only did he ensure the woman he loved was safe for the time being but her and those close to her would be safe for years to come. But no we had to gut this to have two characters that most people don’t care about give up their lives instead of the long time supporting cast member, who’s death would’ve carried more weight, all for the sake he gets a happy ending with his shp.

This once again follows the trend in this arc of ships taking priority over the narrative. The idea of Jellal and Erza getting together for their happy ending matters more than the conclusion for the villian hyped since tenrou. I know there are many who want Jellal and Erza to be happy together and there’s nothing wrong if you do but when it comes down to it, if you have to choose between a happy end for ship or a good conclusion for your story, it shouldn’t be a question what’s the priority.

Now some people don’t care. As they predicted Jellal wasn’t going to die given Hiro’s track record. People said “lol we know jellal wasn’t going to die” well that doesn’t excuse bad writing. Just because something is consistent, doesn’t stop it from being bad.

All I can say for this chapter as whole is this chapter was disrespectful. Not just to readers but to characters. This was disrespectful to the DS, BP, Jellal, Erza, FT, Zeref, Acnologia, even Anna. This chapter feels like it spit all over the series.

Ugh before I give this a rating I want to say I was talking to a friend of mine, they said while they may disagree with me on my opinions (and sometimes sugar coating of the series) they were amazed that I had hope that the series could still end well. And I carried that hope for the longest time but now, it feels like that hope’s gone for the first time. Every time there was something ad in the series we often tired to put hope into what we believed Hiro would give the proper time and effort, and that was something to look forward to. But now there’s almost nothing left (excluding ships). I know there is still 10 chapters left and hope isn’t “dead” but now we’re so past the breaking point, I don’t even know if what happens in those next chapters can atone for this.

Hiro… I know you have a new series you want to do and I think that’s great. I think you need a clean slate, but you have to remember you’re not writing your new series now, you’re still writing fairy tail. All I ask is you try Hiro Mashima, We’ve seen what it’s like when you do and all I ask is you do it again.

Final Verdict: 0/10

  • Just Awful
  • Disrespectful
  • Disappointment of epic proportions

tttickingcrocodile  asked:

The foxes find out that Neil actually killed people while on the run.

Looks like tonight is jut a writing night for me lmao I’m not complaining. 


Even in hindsight Neil could never have seen this coming. He’ll look back on it later and still have trouble untangling the series of events that, over the last few weeks, had led him here. 

First, Riko’s “suicide.” When the news struck Neil was prepared, and he’d only been able to tell Andrew on the roof, torn between relief at Riko being gone and unease at the cold, cruel nature of the execution. 

Which is exactly what it was. An execution. 

He should have expected how fast news spread but it still knocked the wind out of him when Nicky came through the main hallway screeching like a bat out of hell to get all the Foxes to come out. He read the news article with a frantic speed, but his precise enunciation leaving no doubt about his words. Riko, the King, the Number One, had killed himself. 

Kevin’s knees go out from under him and the Foxes seem to collapse in on themselves, folding like wet paper dolls. It seems wrong to celebrate, especially with Kevin making pathetic gasping noises on the floor. But what else are they supposed to do when confronted with the death of the man who, for a year, had made their lives a living hell? Who’d made other Raven’s lives a living hell for longer? For, collectively, more years than he’d been alive?

Next had been Kevin’s consequent breakdown. They joked about Kevin getting alcohol poisoning constantly but it had actually happened and of course Andrew had been the one to find him. He’d been the one to take Kevin to the hospital, tell Neil who on command told everyone else, and the one to drag Kevin back to Fox Tower by the hair to let Wymack verbally flay him alive. And when Andrew had found Coach to be too sympathetic he’d interrupted and delivered his own stripping words that could be summarized as “Get your head out of your ass,” “you will be taking drinking lessons from Renee,” and the ever pleasant, “you have appointments with Betsy booked until you graduate.” By the end of it Kevin looked even worse, but some small spark of life in his eye said some part of him recognized this as Andrew caring. 

Thing began to get messy from there, moving over Kevin’s slippery slope to sobriety, the consequential decrease of over all alcohol consumed, and the subsequent replacement of drinking with other activities. Many things were suggested, most of them shot down by Andrew or Aaron, but the surviving options were (somehow) movie night, non-alcoholic game night, and bowling. Andrew had tried to shoot those down too but Neil had simply said in ever-improving Russian, “We need to do something, we can’t tell him not to drink to save his life and then bore him to death anyway.” Amazingly that had made Andrew let those options stand. 

Watching the Foxes go from throwing a small ball with a raquet to rolling a large ball with their hands is, needless to say, entertaining. He observes them now, of blacklight night, Matt’s teeth glowing faintly in a grin as he pulls ahead on points. Kevin hasn’t gotten over sulking and rolling the ball between his ankles yet, but with Renee cheerful by his side he can’t sneak anywhere to get alcohol. It just makes him sulkier. 

“Damn Neil, all that time on the road and you’re telling me you never once stopped at a bowling alley?” Nicky says, shaking his head and walking up to the front of their lane in his rented shoes. Neil rolls his eyes and shakes his head, leaning farther into Andrew. Andrew’s arm stays loose and heavy over his shoulders. 

“I don’t know why any of you are surprised by anything I say anymore,” he grumbles loudly enough for Nicky and the Foxes to hear him. 

“You know how it was,” he says to them with a shrug. Nicky hoots as he almost gets a strike and comes over to sit as Dan stands to take her turn. 

“I mean I guess,” Nicky pries, “but even though I know it wasn’t all action movie-esque I still picture it that way.” He snorts. 

“Of course the heroes always kill villains along the way in action movies so I guess that isn’t a very good way to think of it either.”

Andrew goes even stiller than normal when he feels Neil tense, and looks at him when he feels Neil purposefully roll his shoulders to calm himself. Kevin, on Andrew’s other side, feels he cushion shift with Andrew and looks at him, then Neil. Kevin doesn’t say anything but Allison’s attention is caught. 

“Don’t tell me you actually ki-” She starts in a harsh whisper and Dan, walking back over, swats her. 

“Allison,” she hisses and Matt gets up to take his turn but is obviously still listening. Neil shifts uncomfortably.

“We are not talking about this here,” Aaron suddenly snaps with a pointed look around, to the family on their right and the birthday party full of young children on their left. Everyone’s mouths snap shut but their eyes blaze with curiosity for the rest of the night. 

They don’t register who won and Neil hasn’t felt this cornered in a long time as they filter into Fox Tower. He’s stopped by a hand on his arm and jumps away from Allison and right into Andrew’s chest. 

“Back off,” he snarls over Neil’s shoulder and Allison scowls. 

“Fuck off monster,” she snaps at him and Neil glares at her, stepping away from Andrew and scowling. 

“Don’t call him that,” he snaps and hands come between them, Dan pushing him and Allison apart. 

“This is not the way to talk to each other,” she says with authority and both Neil and Allison pull farther from each other. 

“Good,” Dan says and turns her head to address Allison, but Neil beats her to it. 

“What do you want?” He says snappishly, tiredly, and Allison grinds her teeth.

 “You said you killed someone-” she starts but Nicky steps in, “he never said anything-”

“It was insinuated through body language,” Allison snaps and looks at Neil. Neil stares her down. 

“So what?” Neil asks, “is that what it’s going to take for you to take back what you all said after Baltimore? For me to not be a Fox anymore? Because it’s true,” he says icily and the word ‘true’ falls to the floor with a crash like a lead weight. 

“We were on the road for years. More than once we were cornered, or came back to hotel rooms or wherever we were sleeping to find my father’s men, and I didn’t have a choice dammit,” he snarls, reaching up to tug at his hair. 

“She made sure I could protect myself, and sometimes I had to, and sometimes people died but-” he says and he doesn’t realize he’s breathing too fast until there’s a hand on the back of his neck bending him over and squeezing. 

“Breathe,” Andrew snap at him and he gulps in air as Andrew pulls him standing straight again. 

“Neil we’re not going to abandon you for doing what you had to do,” Matt says firmly. Renee and Dan nod. 

“We didn’t mean to push,” Nicky says, even though it was Allison who did the pushing. Because of this Neil looks at her and her eyes are unreadable. 

“I’m not going to apologize,” she says, and of course she isn’t, “but I will say this doesn’t change anything. You are a Fox.” Neil nods slowly and the hand on his neck tugs him back to follow Andrew as he leaves and they retreat to the roof. 

“You’re going to tell me what went on those years,” Andrew comments. He’s not saying now, he’s not demanding, it’s a statement it’s a certainty. Neil knows he’ll tell him- 

“Eventually,” Neil admits and almost as a reward Andrew hands him a lit cigarette. 

Reign I (Reader x Bucky Barnes)

Word Count: 1638

Summary: Royal AU: the reader is a princess next in line to take the throne. Bucky is a knight that has been put in charge of taking care of and protecting the reader. 

A/N: do you hear me gasping for air? because it’s happening. i’m so in loove with this like oh my god. i just love AUs so much! I hope you guys enjoy this! I’m thinking of making this a series? we shall see where it takes us

“Reign” MASTERLIST

not my gif


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Okay but Nicky is such a fascinating character

Like honest-to-God one of the most amazing to me

Because everyone likes to treat him as comic relief and such? Which I mean you’re not wrong he is a spot of sunshine in this mess of a family

But think about teenage Nicky, coming so very close to the edge and traveling halfway across the world just to be pulled back

Nicky who has finally come to terms with his sexuality, managed his depression, is happy with a fiancee and a future

Who decides, on the spur of the moment, to drop all of that to come back and look after the twins

There’s nothing to suggest he and Aaron were ever close

He doesn’t even know Andrew

Its not even like they don’t have anyone else, his parents COULD take them in, and he’s practically a kid himself no one could be expecting him to take responsibility for a pair of traumatized teenagers

But he wants to protect these two boys, even though he’s just a little older than they are, even though it means putting his own life on hold

He leaves his fiancee and his world that HE made for himself and HE fought for, fought back from the edge for

To come back to the place that almost killed him, to work stupid waiting and bartending jobs, just so he can take care of his cousins who seem like they couldn’t care less

And he never reacts. He never guilts them or acts as though they owe him something. Andrew attacks him on a regular basis and Aaron treats him like he’s some stupid pet and he still stays and fights for them

Yes Nicky is funny and light and a spot of sunshine in this mess of a family

But he is also so good and loyal and selfless and has so much more /depth/ than you would think

And I just. I need more people talking about this please.

anonymous asked:

yo i haven't seen pd2 in like YEARS but yuuri and victor in your little drabble had me weak and i don't even know what kinda factor they play in the movie or if there's anything else you can give us but i'd love to see more of them because. yes @ them being all over each other in front of everyone when people have shit to do, i.e. important ruling a kingdom stuff

well, the dynamic between the queen and joe in the movies (can’t say much about the books bc it’s been years since i read one of them lmao) is that they’ve got a will they won’t they tension going on and literally the entire damn country ships them (the friggin bishop or…. whatever religious leader officiating the wedding was like “finally” when they did get married in pd2 lolol) and yea that’s probably what i’d be going for. but with a couple tweaks since a lot of details have been shifted around in this au to make it work better with the yoi cast lol


Viktor’s never seen anyone as stoic as Mr Katsuki before in his life. He runs a tight ship, getting all the other security officers into line and smartly suited up. He obsessively goes over every possible breach or flaw at every venue, even drawing up blueprints and maps of the buildings Viktor sets foot in just so he knows the weaknesses of each wall, the locations of each ventilation shaft. He knows the precise details of Viktor’s schedule down to the minute, coordinating with Lilia, his chief advisor and assistant, until everything around the King seems to flow like clockwork, the well-oiled cogs of a machine designed to protect his every step.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks Mr Katsuki once, a couple months into his tenure as chief of security, and Mr Katsuki only smiles a tight, brittle smile that doesn’t reach his calculating yet sparkling eyes.

“I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you were hurt, Your Majesty,” he replies.

Viktor laughs at just how earnestly serious the man looks. “My life is in your hands already, Mr Katsuki. You might as well call me Viktor.”

There’s a little chink in Mr Katsuki’s armour at that when his cheeks flush visibly pink. “I don’t know if I could, Your Majesty,” he says, his voice quiet, soft, and Viktor immediately realises he’d do anything to see this sort of expression on the man’s face again.

Mr Katsuki is a reassuring shadow at his side, watchful yet protective. Viktor values his work and dedication. Admires his bravery and honour.

But he doesn’t fall in love, though, until one fateful afternoon when he’s leaving his motorcade and a gunman opens fire, and Mr Katsuki is on him in an instant, tackling him onto the asphalt and shielding him with his body. As his heartbeat rings loudly in his ears, Viktor looks up into the wide-eyed expression on his chief of security’s face, and realises that the man is genuinely terrified of losing him.

“Yuuri,” he breathes, reaching up for him. The light haloes Mr Katsuki, making him almost angelic. The noise and commotion fade away with each blink of Mr Katsuki’s long lashes, and then the world fades to white.

When Viktor wakes up, he is in a hospital bed, and Mr Katsuki – Yuuri – has fallen asleep with his fingers inches from Viktor’s own. 

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Yona ch.139 spoilers

Akatsuki no Yona chapter 139 “In the mud” summary with pics

Please don’t repost/reuse my scans and translations without permission. Tumblr reblog is fine.

Do not use the raws or translations for scanlations and don’t upload them on other websites. If you need watermark-less images to make graphics, send me an ask (not on anon) and I’ll give you a link - you can only request 3 images per chapter.

Additional note this time: raws are here. Do not redistribute.

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not the lost princess

because somebody said “write it” when i said this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m not the princess,” Liza told the first man who informed her, shocked, how she had the green eyes of the royal family and hair as dark as the late queen’s. She had been joking, of course, pretending to take him seriously as she counted out his change. No one had accused her of being the princess in the first place. Princess Aliara, the last of the royal line of Adamar, had drowned in the Silver Sea ten summers ago. Everyone knew that.

~

“I’m not the princess,” Liza told the old woman, the princess’s childhood nurse, who clutched her hands to her chest the moment she fell off her horse in the castle courtyard. She didn’t want any more confusion than there already was.

There were silver streaks in the woman’s hair and tears in her eyes. “It’s you,” she repeated, as if she hadn’t heard.

“No,” Liza explained, already impatient. “It’s not me. I’m not her.” It was what she had told the royal minister who had been fetched by the man in the shop last week at least seven times by now, but he’d insisted that the other royal ministers had to see her, had to see if she was real, and wouldn’t leave the shop.

“I’m real,” she’d said. “Really annoyed.”

The man’s eyes had filled with tears. That seemed to be happening a lot around her recently. “You sounds just like you did when you were little.”

Liza threw up her hands and told anyone who would listen that this man hadn’t known her when she was a little girl growing up in a costal town far away, but finding out she had lived in some proximity to the Silver Sea only sent everyone into more of a frenzy. In the end she agreed to come, if only because the royal minster would take care of the cost, and the capital city had a real library to visit.

“I’m not the princess, though,” she reminded all the minister’s servants when they bobbed curtsies to her. “Just to be clear.”

~

“I’m not the princess,” Liza told Kara, the girl who had claimed the right to interrogate her first. She was the lost princess’s best friend, or something, and she’d said she was the only one who could possibly tell if this so-called princess was an impostor.

Kara scoffed, hands on her hips and her eyes mistrustful. “Of course you’re not, kid. No one who claims to be Liara is. She’s dead.” But her voice sounded a little more uncertain with each word as she looked Liza over. “So what’s your excuse? What’s your made up story for how you’ve suddenly regained your lost memory and remembered you’re a princess, or whatever?”

Liza glanced around at all the court watching her, still bewildered as to how she was being interrogated as a possible impostor when she’d never claimed to be anyone in the first place, and finally repeated what she’d been saying all day. “My name is Liza. I’m a baker. My parents were bakers before they died. They were not the king and queen. I am not the princess. Can I go to the library now?”

The room filled with deliberating murmurs rather than answers, and Liza leaned back in her seat with a groan.

~

“I’ll give you credit,” Kara said, sounding as if she’d rather do anything else, “you really do look like her.”

“I’m not her,” Liza said, as if repeating it for the hundredth time would make Kara finally believe she wasn’t trying to pretend she was. As if saying it a thousand more times would make half the royal ministers stop thinking she really was.

She wasn’t allowed to go home, not until they’d come to a consensus on her princess-related status. “I’m a prisoner,” she yelled at Alder, the most annoying of the ministers.

“You’re home,” he’d responded fondly, and she’d screamed in a very un-princesslike manner and gone to find Kara, who at least wouldn’t keep asking her if she remember so-and-so-’s name, or how she had tripped on that step and sprained her ankle when she was six.

“When I was six I was frolicking happily on a beach somewhere on the southern coast,” she told Kara crankily. “Not cooped up in this castle.”

Kara laughed derisively. “Oh, honey. Liara’s ship sank near the eastern coast. You don’t even have your story straight.”

But despite Kara’s firm belief that Liza was a liar and a pretender, Liza sensed that her laughter was becoming warmer, and she directed more snide comments at the ministers than she did at Liza. Perhaps, Liza even dared to think, Kara was starting to like her.

Kara noticed that she was being stared at, and half-smiled back. “Don’t be offended. You’re almost as bad of a liar as she was, too. That’s actually a point in your favor.”

Liza rolled her eyes and tugged at Kara’s sleeve to pull her closer. “Show me the way to the library again. I get lost in the halls every time I try to go without you.”

“They say true royalty isn’t capable of being lost in the royal palace.”

“Tell that to the ministers.”

~

“I’m not the princess,” she said automatically, before she’d processed the boy standing in front of her. He was supposed to be the princess’s illegitimately-born cousin, or something. One way or another, he was one of those next in line for the throne if the princess did not magically turn up sometime soon (which she wouldn’t, because she was dead).

“He’d do a rotten job,” Kara had said, curling her lip, when they’d seen him march through the front hall from their little alcove in the balcony. “He can’t be king.”

“Why do you care?” Liza asked, trying to sneak a peak at Kara’s cards.

She pulled her cards away and whacked Liza’s arm lightly with them. “I’m engaged to the throne, silly. The real princess would know that.” But that last sentence was an afterthought. She’d almost entirely stopped accusing Liza of pretending, recently. “And I won’t marry Henry. He makes fun of anyone once their back is turned, and he spreads rumors about whatever he likes, and once he kicked Liara’s puppy because it was in his way.”

“That sounds like an exaggeration.”

Kara shook her head, looking almost grim. This clearly wasn’t one of her jokes. “No. Liara was so angry she threw her shoe at him. Hit him in the head, hard. He was bleeding. It was a big scandal that she would hurt her own cousin, everyone rushed to cover it up with a story about how he fell and hit his head.”

“I take it they didn’t get along?” Now she was worried. If Henry wanted to be king, what would he do to Liara? What would he do to her, if he believed she was the princess? “Is he dangerous?”

“Don’t worry, Liza. I’ll protect you.” She was kidding, her brown eyes soft, but Liza felt a little safer anyway.

~

“I know you’re not,” Henry sneered, and walked past her.

Kara gripped her hand, which was all that kept Liza from running after him to yell about just how many people were pretty sure she was, and how he was a rude, terrible person who would never marry Kara because she wouldn’t allow it, and how someone who kicked puppies was not fit to look at the throne, let alone sit in it, and how, also, he smelled.

He didn’t, but it would have been nice to tell him that. She almost didn’t let Kara pull her away.

~

“I’m not the princess,” Liza said when Alder asked yet again for another retelling of how she’d come to be a baker in a small town far from the castle. She was too tired to go through it again, too frustrated with all these dithering people too scared of having to work out the convoluted succession of a throne that had no obvious heir to accept that their princess wasn’t there to solve the problem.

She was not, however, too tired to notice Henry’s small victorious smile as he sat in the back of the room and listened. Everyone knew that the one year in which the royal throne could remain empty in the wake of the king and queen’s deaths was drawing to a close. An heir would have to be announced soon.

If it wasn’t Aliara— wasn’t Liza— it was almost certainly Henry.

After the horrible, boring meeting was over, she found Kara in the library and bunched up next to her in the window seat too small for two people. “Tell me about the princess,” she said, and Kara complied, because they were both coming to wish, like the ministers, that she was there.

~

One year after the queen of Adamar had passed away with her daughter’s name on her lips, the royal ministers met in the throne room. Liza had denied being the princess to the very last. There was nothing else for it but to declare the heir to the kingdom.

Henry hadn’t stopped smirking since he’d received the message asking him to attend that morning. Kara watched him with a blank face but a sick stomach, thinking how she would never sit on a throne next to his— thinking about running away, grabbing Liza’s hand and running with her back to the beach far from where the princess had died.

It wasn’t fantasy. It was a concrete plan. She had the horses waiting. She felt herself calming as Alder called everyone to attention, knowing that even if they could do nothing for Adamar once Henry was king, at least they could do this.

And then Aliara walked into the room.

No, she glided into the room. She swept in so like a ghost that half the company spooked or flinched, but she was very, very real. She had the green eyes of the royal lineage. She had dark hair braided over her shoulder the exact way the queen used to wear it. She had a smile that was almost, almost smug.

“Please,” Liza said, sweeping a curtsey and lifting her eyes to the sunlight falling through the high glass windows as if she could look any more perfectly innocent. “I must beg your forgiveness. I have been a coward to insist for so long that I could not remember my childhood here, when I have never forgotten my true self. I thought I could bear the shame of never coming forward. I even convinced myself it would be better for Adamar to have my dear cousin as king.” She pressed a hand over her heart. “I’m sorry, Henry, for pretending not to know you, and almost letting this burden fall on your shoulders. But I have seen the light in time. I am here, Alder. I am the princess.”

Henry went pale with fury, meeting her halfway across the wide floor of the throne room and catching her arm so she could not approach the throne.

“Don’t you dare,” he snarled. “We both know you’re a liar. Everyone else will soon realize to. Don’t bother trying to pull it off.”

She yanked her arm back so hard that he was almost unbalanced and fixed him with a glare that had no princess in it and all of the fire she used to pump in her huge ovens at the bakery. “Don’t cross me, cousin. Or do you need me to throw another shoe at your head?”

He faltered just long enough for her to walk past, head held high, and up to the dais. “Come here with the crown, Alder. Careful on the steps. I tripped on them when I was six, you know.”

“Y-yes, princess,” Alder said, hastily coming forward.

She raised an eyebrow, indicating with one hand that there was no one else on the dais with her. “I’m not the princess. I’m the queen.”

~

“I’m sorry,” she told Kara, late that night. It had been a very long day, and her head ached from the weight of the crown, and she only wanted to go to sleep, and she didn’t know if Kara was angry, and didn’t want her to be.

“I’m the one who needs to apologize,” Kara said, stepping closer, reaching out for her hands.

“For?”

“For my false accusations over the past year, of course,” she said with a straight face. “I don’t know how I didn’t recognize you from the beginning.”

“The princess,” the new queen said, unable to figure out full sentences as Kara pulled them closer together, gently pushing strands of her hair back.

“My princess.”

“Yes,” the baker-princess-queen sighed. “That.”

Mor is selfless af meta

Because I made a little throwaway post a little while back but people still apparently don’t get the Mor is selfless as all hell. So I thought I would compile a long, rambling list of Reasons and Evidence as to why irreverence does not mean disregard and why taking care for and loving yourself does not mean selfishness.  

Right, so, apparently people still think Mor is selfish (w h y?) which I…obviously disagree with. I don’t think that she makes a habit of putting her own needs/wants above others’ (though if she did she would be entirely entitled to, given what she’s been through/the abuse she endured) I just think she stopped letting other people rule her. I think she stopped taking the opinions and wants of other people for her as gospel and acting only on them at the expense of herself and her own wants and agency She does what she loves and she does what she needs but that doesn’t mean she acts selfishly. It just means that what’s important to her and what she wants to do she now does.

But I don’t think she puts her needs above others. There’s a thoughts vs actions distinction here - she refuses to place any more validity or weight to the opinions of others over her own - her feelings and ideas are valid and she has the right to express them and act upon them. She lets herself make the choices that she wants to make. But actually I think the choices that she makes are often very selfless and she puts the people that matter to her above her own well-being and happiness and she actually does this repeatedly.

Variety of ‘Mor being subtly selfless’ examples and analysis to follow. 

“Don’t get me started on what you did to me Under the Mountain.”
Rhys went still.
As still as I’d ever seen him, as still as the death now beckoning in those eyes. Then his chest began to move, faster and faster.

Across the pillars towering behind him, I could have sworn the shadow of great wings spread.
He opened his mouth, leaning forward, and then stopped. Instantly, the shadows, the ragged breathing, the intensity were gone, the lazy grin returning. “We have company. We’ll discuss this later.”
“No, we won’t.” But quick, light footsteps sounded down the hall, and then she [Mor] appeared.

Right, listen, this scene flat out parallels Rhys’ rescue of Feyre at her wedding and I refuse to see it in any other light. Feyre suffers a panic attack, she flashes back to UtM, she needs help, she needs a way out, Rhys appears and does just that. Same thing happens here. Feyre (inadvertently) triggers a panic attack in Rhys, he flashes back to UtM, he needs help, he needs away out, Mor is there in a heartbeat. That’s as much as a coincidence as Rhys showing up exactly when Feyre needed him: ie it’s literally not a coincidence at all.  

Right, so, for context, this is the first time that Feyre is at the Night Court since…well everything. At this point in time the only people know who about his and Feyre’s history as well as the fact that Rhys and Feyre are mates are Mor and Rhys. This is because the first words out of Rhys’ mouth when he saw Mor again after fifty years were ‘she’s my mate’ and he then proceeded to tell her everything. So for three months the only people who’ve known what Rhys went through and what he’s dealing with due to his bond to Feyre are Mor and Rhys. That means the only person who’s been supporting Rhys through all of this is Mor.

So when it comes to it and Feyre is there and having witnessed the shoe-throwing, less than wonderful reaction Feyre had to Rhys the night before Mor makes sure she’s nearby the next day. She makes sure that she’s around and the second that Rhys gets out of his depth she’s there to balance things and smooth them over. Which she does in spite of Rhys’ grumbling.

“You could be attending your own duties,” he said testily. I clamped my lips tighter together. I’d never seen Rhys … irked.
[…]
“And as my only remaining relative,” Rhys went on, “Mor believes she is entitled to breeze in and out of my life as she sees fit.”
“So grumpy this morning,” Mor said, plopping two muffins onto her plate.

He huffs about it but there’s no doubt that Mor’s appearance was sorely needed and that she calms him down and grounds him. Mor also goes out of her way to welcome Feyre, to make her feel like she fits in at the Court, to be a friend to her, to help her, and to encourage her to give Rhys a chance.  

‘…Mor said, swirling her wine, her shoulders loosening as Azriel at last blinked, and seemed to shake off whatever memory had frozen him.

[…]

“A new bastard in the camp—and an untrained shadowsinger to boot. Not to mention he couldn’t even fly thanks to—”
Mor cut in lazily, “Stay on track, Cassian.”
Indeed, any warmth had vanished from Azriel’s face. But I quieted my own curiosity as Cassian again shrugged, not even bothering to take note of the silence that seemed to leak from the shadowsinger. Mor saw, though—even if Azriel didn’t bother to acknowledge her concerned stare, the hand that she kept looking at as if she’d touch, but thought better of it.

These both happen at the first dinner at the House of Wind. Once again Mor is monitoring things carefully and she intervenes - casually, lazily, thoughtlessly, as though she doesn’t even care/is barely noticing what she’s doing but she knows exactly what’s going on. She keeps very careful watch over Az throughout the dinner, reacting when he feels better, intervening when Cass started wandering into dangerous waters and showing such overt concern for Az that Feyre noticed it before she knew anything about either of them/their dynamic. And as with what we saw before with Rhys her actions aren’t rewarded with any kind of gratitude from the people she’s looking out for - but she does it anyway. 

Azriel just shook his head. “I’ll go. The Prison sentries know me—what I am.”
I wondered if the shadowsinger was usually the first to throw himself into danger. Mor’s fingers stilled on the stem of her wineglass, her eyes narrowing on Amren.

[…]

“Here we go,” Cassian grumbled. Mor gave Azriel a warning glare to tell him not to volunteer this time. The spymaster just gave her an incredulous look in return.

Azriel: *is first to volunteer to go into dangerous situations likely due to his own disregard for his personal safety and the way he prioritises others over himself* Mor: *reproves him for doing this because he does matter. twice.* Fandom: *oh but she’s so selfish, she doesn’t care about Az at all! She doesn’t show any regard for him/love towards him/anything at all until the very end of the book when he gets shot* Me: -_- A N Y W A Y. 

She stared and stared at the Book—as if it were a ghost, as if it were a miracle—and said, “It is the Leshon Hakodesh. The Holy Tongue.” Those quicksilver eyes shifted to Rhysand, and I realized she’d understood, too, why she’d gone.
Rhysand said, “I heard a legend that it was written in a tongue of mighty beings who feared the Cauldron’s power and made the Book to combat it. Mighty beings who were here … and then vanished. You are the only one who can uncode it.”
It was Mor who warned, “Don’t play those sorts of games, Rhysand.”

Oh look, it’s Mor watching out for Amren’s well-being as well as Rhys and Azriel’s. It’s almost as though….There’s a theme here. Shocking. Even though Amren is one of the most powerful beings in the world Mor still has her back and still looks out for her. It’s almost as though she deeply loves and cares for her little found family and wants to protect them, even from small things. Incredible. 

And just in case anyone was doubting (since this relationship falls under a lot of scrutiny from Mor’s side) she also puts herself out there for Cassian’s sake too :) 

 “Cassian helped Rhys get me out. Before either had the real rank to do so. For Rhys, getting caught would have been a mild punishment, perhaps a bit of social shunning. But Cassian … he risked everything to make sure I stayed out of that court. And he laughs about it, but he believes he’s a low-born bastard, not worthy of his rank or life here. He has no idea that he’s worth more than any other male I met in that court—and outside of it. Him and Azriel, that is.”

Against the popular fandom belief that Cass still feels guilty about what happened with the Incident and that Mor somehow encourages this/benefits from it in some way I give you this. Actual canon. Because the only response that Mor ever shows to Cassian’s part in her past is gratitude. She is grateful. She is grateful that he was kind and good and gave her a choice. She is grateful that he rescued her from her abusive situation. It’s been five hundred years and she is still grateful to him for risking himself to get her out of there. And she considers him to be worth more than any other male she’s ever met aside from Rhys. 

Mor, on her knees beside Cassian, hurtled for the king with a cry of pure wrath.
He sent a punch of power to her. She dodged, a knife angled in her hand, and—
Azriel cried out in pain.
She froze. Stopped a foot from the throne. Her knife clattered to the floor.

 To be entirely clear about what happens here, okay: the king shreds Cassian’s wings with half thought and Mor, with absolutely no magic, with nothing to defend herself, with no ability to protect herself and with nothing but a single, solitary knife in her hand against a centuries old king strong enough to strip the magic from the two most powerful Illyrian warriors in history, the most powerful High Lord in history, and Feyre who has the power of all seven high lords in her veins at the same time launches herself at the king to punish him for what he’s done to her friend. And the only reason that she stops her attack is not because of the magic he tries to hit her with - but Azriel, because if she’d hurt the king then Azriel would have died but at no point is her own safety a concern or a consideration here. But…Yeah, sure, Mor doesn’t care about Cass that’s…just. yeah. 

Next point: 

But Mor hopped off the bed, opened the door for me, and said, “There are good days and hard days for me—even now. Don’t let the hard days win.”

I’m using this as a kind of catch-all quote for a couple of points. First of all I think a lot of people seem to think Mor is ‘over’ what happened to her? Or there’s certainly a lot of talk about how ‘jfc it was 500 years ago move on’ when it comes to Mor…yet we frequently discuss Cassian, Azriel and Rhys’s childhoods (funny that) Anyway, the point is that Mor is not just magically better/never suffers for her trauma. She still has hard days. She just doesn’t let them win. But that means that all of that aloofness, all of that irreverence, all of that brightness and light and hope is something that she fights for. Constantly. Trauma does not have an expiry date, it doesn’t just up and leave one day, it still affects her, it still hurts her, she just refuses to let it beat her. And that makes her strong af but anyway. 

Second thing I want to talk about is how much Mor opens up for Feyre’s benefit. I’m just using this quote for that because it happens several times throughout the book and we’d be here all day if I quoted them all and they’re well enough known I think that I don’t need them. But Mor rips open old wounds of hers over and over and over again for Feyre. She tells her what happened in grim, explicit detail, she tells her how it affected her, she rips open those wounds again to show Feyre that it is possible to heal from them. It’s possible to endure the dark horrors that she, that they both, have endured and still come out able to love and trust and be bright and warm and friendly and selfless. 

(And aside from Feyre’s storyline and what this does for her this is an incredibly important message for abuse survivors in an audience as well. Because it’s a fairly frequent thing that we see- especially female characters- suffer some form of abuse or hurt (usually at the hands of men) and as a result they become acerbic and cold and withdrawn and mistrustful. I am not in anyway saying that this is a ‘bad’ response to trauma or pain. It happens. It’s real. But in terms of media portrayal seeing something that actively goes against that is I think incredibly important. Because that’s not what has to happen. Mor came out of what she endured and she came out of it soft and warm and selfless and loving and that’s a perfectly valid endpoint of recovery too. Dark days don’t have to lead to more darkness. They can lead to bright, warm sunshine too. and that’s important.) 

This also leads me on to the role Mor plays in the Court of Dreams. I’ve talked before about her position in the Court of Nightmares being empowering (and a perfect counterpoint to the Tamlin/Lucien dynamic when it comes to thinking about her and Rhys and how they respond/react to her being forced to return to the site of her abuse/trauma) And it is. She is given power over her abusers. Her father is reduced to a steward and she is given not only authority over him but she is given his authority. She rules the place that tormented her and that is so incredibly important but it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t affect her, it doesn’t mean that she isn’t performing a selfless act for the sake of her court and it doesn’t mean that it’s easy for her (hint: it’s not) 

Maybe I should have asked Mor to come. But she’d left after dinner, pale-faced and jumpy, ignoring Cassian’s attempt to speak with her. 
[…]
“How was your visit to the Court of Nightmares?”
She paused, her face going uncharacteristically pale. “Fine. It’s always a delight to see my parents. As you might guess.”
[…]
“I’m sorry—for all that you endured.”
“Thank you,” she said, coming over to watch me. “Visiting them always leaves me raw.”

 All of these are Mor’s direct responses either facing a trip to the CoN (the first quote) or after visiting them (the second). Yes Mor is in a position of power over her abusers. Yes that is, in a sense, empowering and likely helpful in terms of her recovery. But the fact is that she does, and has for centuries, returned to the place that she was abused and tortured and traumatised. It’s like what Feyre does at the end of ACOMAF - returning to the Spring Court with Tamlin for the good of her court. Except Mor has been doing this for hundreds of years, even though it leaves her raw, even though it can still make her panicky and upset. She does it. Which makes her brave and selfless as all hell I will fight you on this point. 

More things: 

 Cassian realized I was in one piece and hurtled for Rhys, who was struggling to rise, mud covering his bare skin, but Mor—Mor saw my face.
I went up to her, cold and hollow. “I want you to take me somewhere far away,” I said. “Right now.” I needed to get away—needed to think, to have space and quiet and calm.
Mor looked between us, biting her lip.
“Please,” I said, and my voice broke on the word.
Behind me, Rhys moaned my name again.
Mor scanned my face once more, and gripped my hand.
We vanished into wind and night.

 […]

“Still recovering, but fine. Pissed at me, of course, but he can shove it.
I combined Mor’s yellow gold with the red I’d used for the Illyrian wings, and blended until vibrant orange emerged. “Thank you—for not telling him I was here.”
A shrug.

Again Mor puts other people’s needs over own. She took Feyre away from Rhys - knowing it would hurt Rhys, knowing it would upset him, knowing that Feyre was forcing her to choose a side but choosing it anyway. Then she dismisses Rhys being angry with her and Feyre’s thanks for what it cost her to help her and keep her location from Rhys (I’m pretty sure Rhys didn’t just politely ask her this once over a cup of tea and then let the matter drop. Not if Mor describes him as being pissed at her) 

Even more evidence: 

It was satisfactory enough to my mate—who at last looked at Mor.
She nodded once, but said, “I know my orders.”
I wondered what those might be—why I hadn’t been told—but she gripped my hand.
[…]
Mor kept at my side, constantly monitoring. The last line of defense.
If Cassian and Azriel were hurt, I realized, she was to make sure I got out by whatever means. Then return.

Right to make this part even more explicit, because I think the difficulty here of what Mor has to do is possible to be underrated and I want there to be no doubt: before they went to infiltrate Hybern Rhys ordered Mor to leave Cassian and Azriel, two of the people she loves most in the world, behind if they were injured in order to get Feyre to safety. And this is something that Mor agreed to and acknowledged and I have no doubt would have done if the need had arisen. And then, once she had gotten Feyre to safety, she herself would have returned and put herself in an incredible amount of danger to get them back. 

This is like….the dictionary definition of selflessness idk what to tell you any more okay. 

Is this enough? Do I need to say more? Or can we just, like re-read ACOMAF and remind ourselves what an incredible specimen of pure selfless goodness Morrigan is? 

TL;DR: Mor is selfless af and I will fight you on this point. That is all. 

You know what really boils my blood?  When people hate on Boromir (and A LOT of people do).  It’s easy to see him as arrogant and reckless when he does such gasp-worthy things such as when he spats “Gondor has no king!” at our beloved Aragorn or when he tries to take the ring from poor little Frodo.  But it’s just so sad that that’s all people remember him for.  So, I invite you to take a look at a few things concerning Boromir, the Captain of the White Tower of Gondor…

Boromir was raised in war, probably from a very small boy.  His entire existence has been spent fighting for Gondor… a kingless country that, despite an empty throne, has remained strong through the ages and Boromir is PROUD of that.  HE has taken up his sword to fight.  HE has watched his people die in battle.  HE has led armies into bloody victory.  Gondor is HIS country and he has paid blood for it and he loves it with all his heart.  If one thing can be said of Boromir, it is that he loves his country.

Can we blame him, then, for his bitterness when he meets this guy, this “Ranger from the North,” who is supposedly “his king?”  A lot of people simply see arrogance when Boromir declares hotly that “Gondor has no king… Gondor needs no king.”  But I’d wager that it was justifiable anger he was feeling when he shot those words.  I’d bet what was going on in his head was, “Where have you been, Aragorn? Where were you when Gondor’s people were being slaughtered?  Where were you when I had to watch my men fight and die?  Where were you… when I had to tell Gondor’s women they were widowed? Where were you??”

Now… don’t get me wrong, I LOVE Aragorn but let’s face it- he really was wrong in running from his people for so long… but I’ll stand in his defense another time.

But truly… I can’t imagine the fiery anger Boromir must have felt when he was first made to understand that he was looking into the eyes of Isildur’s heir.  If you ask me, he handled himself rather well.  I wonder how many times he, covered in sweat and blood, scanned the gore of the battlefield and felt a pang of bitterness toward this Aragorn son of Arathorn who was off who knows where doing who knows what.  And now here he sits, big as life in all his lordly fashion and Boromir is being told by Legolas, “You owe him your allegiance.”  Umm… Excuse me?  Owe him?  Hang on, hang  on, hang on, let me get this straight:  I… owe HIM… my allegiance…?  Okay, pardon me while I go scream into my pillow.

Let’s back up a bit…

Let us recall that Boromir was raised by his father, Denethor II,the Steward of Gondor, a deranged schizophrenic who literally worshipped him, all the while relentlessly abusing his little brother, Faramir, the one person Boromir loves more than anyone in all of Middle Earth.  Boromir is looking on helplessly as his country is slowly weakening under the powers of Mordor and, despite his strong leadership, he is beginning to lose hope.  How much longer can they fight without a king?  …without a power strong enough to defend against that of Mordor?  And just when all hope is lost, word has come from Rivendell that the One Ring has been found.  Many believe that it was greed that drove Boromir to Rivendell but have we forgotten that it was his father who commanded him to go and bring The Ring back to Gondor?

Seriously, am I the only one seeing Boromir’s face when he is given this commission?  That’s terror, guys… not greed.  In fact, he initially refuses the task until Faramir volunteers, at which time Boromir reluctantly decides to go… not for himself, but for Faramir and for Gondor.  

And so, it is with this purpose, that he rides to the Council of Elrond, skeptical but willing to obey his father’s wishes for the sake of his people.  On the eve of the Council, he wanders the halls of the elves and comes across the shards of Narsil being displayed opposite a painting of Isildur parting The Ring from Sauron’s hand.  At first, he speaks with awe and reverence as he gingerly touches the blade, accidentally cutting his finger.  But this display only serves as a reminder that Gondor’s line of kings has been broken just as much as has the blade that cut The Ring.  He comments that the blade is “still sharp… but no more than a broken end” and continues his wandering, his awe now replaced with disgust and resentment.

At the Council the following day, Frodo brings forth The Ring and its power is felt by all who are present.  Boromir, in his awe-struck naivety, reaches for The Ring in curiosity but Gandalf puts him in his place.  But Boromir is not to be quieted, for suddenly, he has an idea.  You can literally hear the excitement and hope in his voice as he says, “It is a gift!”  He stands with growing confidence and pleads with elves, dwarves, and men to take this weapon and “let us use it against him!”  Hope is finally within grasp for Gondor!  But no.  Sorry, Boromir.  Not today.  The Ring must be destroyed.  Boromir is disappointed but nonetheless, he chooses to become one of the nine companions making up the Fellowship of the Ring. 

If we’re being completely honest, this is one of the best scenes in the trilogy.  Frodo, a humble and innocent hobbit who deserves none of this noise, steps bravely forward to bear the horrific pain and suffering that is The One Ring.  Aragorn rises and vows “If by my life or death, I can protect you, I will.”  The music builds and the epicness is incredible as Strider kneels and declares “You have my sword,” followed by Legolas’ “…and you have my bow…” and Gimli’s “…and my axe!”  But many dismiss Boromir as he too steps forward.  The disappointment is transparent in his face as he approaches Frodo, accepting that this decision is final.  But Boromir is used to disappointment and he is used to putting his feelings aside for the greater good.  He bravely vows to the Ring Bearer, “If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done.”

This is a sadly overlooked high moment for Boromir.  He is barely over the shock of learning that the man who has abandoned his country’s throne sits before him- and on top of that, he is expected to honor him as his king- plus, he has just failed in attempting to persuade the Council to allow Gondor to use The Ring to defeat the enemy once and for all.  By any standards, he has failed his mission.  And yet, he chooses to honor the will of the Council and agrees to aid in destroying The Ring.  And note that he did not say, “I will see it done.”  He says, “Gondor will see it done.”  (Have I mentioned yet how much Boromir loves his country?)

So, The Fellowship sets off and Boromir forms a friendship with and develops a love for the hobbits, teaching and instructing them how to fight and defend themselves and he loves every minute of it, perhaps remembering simpler times spent with his little brother… but all the while, the reality of his weakening country gnaws at the back of his mind.  Still, he continues on… but The Ring has a will of its own.  It knows that Boromir desires it, even if it is with good intention, and keep in mind that The Ring wants nothing more than to fall into the hands of men.  Aragorn does not desire its power and so it is to Boromir that The Ring calls.  It could not have been an easy thing to resist day in and day out.  Everyone sees the pain of the halfling with the big blue eyes but Frodo isn’t the only one nobly struggling to resist The Ring’s power.

Everyone forgets Boromir’s role in The Lord of the Rings.  Everyone forgets that it was Boromir who was concerned for the hobbits when they were freezing to death in The Pass of Caradhras.  No one remembers that it was Boromir who grabbed Frodo and held him and carried him to safety as Gandalf fell to his death.  Everyone seems to forget that it was Boromir who comforted Gimli outside Moria and implored Aragorn to give everyone “a moment for pity’s sake!”

No one remembers Boromir’s bravery, his leadership, or his great big heart.  Instead, he is remembered only for a fleeting moment of weakness, when he gives in to The Ring and tries to take it from Frodo by force.  He gets so much hate for this and yet take a look one more time at the images above… this is Boromir.  This is a man who loves unconditionally his country, his family, and the hobbits who have become his friends.  But you’d be surprised how many people I’ve heard call him “the guy who tried to kill Frodo.”  (Which is totally untrue, he never tried to kill him… but I’m getting ahead of myself.)

The Fellowship, minus one, arrives at Caras Galadhon in Lothlórien and when Lady Galadriel speaks to Boromir telepathically, he is broken to tears, for she speaks of his devotion to his father, the fall of Gondor, and the fact that “even now, there is hope left.”  Nothing means more to him and yet he cannot see it.  He shares this with Aragorn, whom he has begun to make peace with in his heart, for his country is more important to him than his pride.  He stares longingly into the distance as the elves of Lórien sing a haunting lament for Gandalf the Grey and utters with great feeling, “It is long since we had any hope.  My father is a noble man, but his rule is failing, and our people lose faith. He looks to me to make things right and I would do it… I would see the glory of Gondor restored.”  Hope is barely detectable in his voice as he asks, “Have you ever seen it, Aragorn?  The White Tower of Ecthelion, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver, its banners caught high in the morning breeze… Have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?”  Aragorn answers, without feeling, that he has seen The White City long ago.  It is clear that he does not yet share Boromir’s adoration of Gondor. 

Throughout the journey, Boromir tries many times to plead with Aragorn to take The Ring back to Gondor.  "Let us make for the White City!“ he implores, but is shot down every single time (which ends up being a good thing but imagine Boromir’s frustration when all he wants is to aid his people.)  He tries so hard to start seeing the ranger as a king but it’s so agonizing when Aragorn is so against going back to Gondor.  He confronts Aragorn one night by the river and points out how quick he is to trust the elves and yet he has so little faith in his own people.  “Yes, there is weakness, there is frailty,” he admits, “but there is courage also!  And honor to be found in men!  But you will not see that!  You are afraid!  All your life, you have hidden in the shadows, scared of who you are, of what you are…” to which Aragorn gets all up in his face and retorts, “I will not lead The Ring within a hundred leagues of your city!”

Finally, we reach Parth Galen where Boromir meets with Frodo in the forest of Amon Hen.  (Here we go, the part everyone remembers… or do they?)  Take a minute here and think for a second, guys… do you honestly think Boromir went into those woods simply to harm Frodo?  He probably did seek him out under the guise of collecting firewood, but after everything we’ve just looked at, ask yourself if he really did so maliciously.  I do not believe for a second that Boromir followed Frodo intending to do any harm; rather, this whole journey, he has seen and empathized with Frodo’s suffering, which no doubt mirrors his own aching heart.  He tries to council Frodo, suggesting one last time that maybe he can help… after all, Aragorn isn’t listening, so perhaps his hobbit friend will. 

But Frodo is having serious trust issues at the moment, given that Gandalf is gone and he has foreseen what will happen should he fail, and so he turns quickly and defensively away, which surprises Boromir… he loves the hobbits!  He can’t take it anymore.  “I ask only for the strength to defend my people!” he declares angrily, smashing the firewood to the ground.  And there… there is where The Ring takes its hold on Boromir.

He begins approaching Frodo, hand outstretched, suggesting that maybe he could just lend him The Ring.

“No,” Frodo answers quickly, obviously scared but bravely firm.

 “Why do you recoil?” Boromir asks, “I am no thief!”

“You are not yourself!” Frodo warns him.  Having had The Ring for months now, Frodo knows when he is looking at someone who has been taken by it.  Not only that, but he has known Boromir for months now too and he knows when The Ring is affecting his friend.  He’s seen a glimpse of it before, in The Pass of Caradhras.

And the more Boromir advances, the more The Ring feeds off of everything- his bitterness towards Aragorn, his frustration in failing to fulfill his father’s command, his fear that his country will die… and it builds and builds and finally, Boromir just snaps.

Frodo couldn’t have been more right when he said that Boromir was not himself.  It is a common misconception that Boromir wanted The Ring for himself all along but that is not the case.  He wanted The Ring for Gondor and to honor his father but his greatest weakness lay in the fact that he significantly underestimated its power.  He has a moment of weakness and The Ring latches onto this.  Frodo flees and Boromir, in a fit of rage, screams that The Ring will end up in the hands of Sauron and all will be lost.  He trips and falls and his head clears and he realizes what he’s done.  He frantically calls out for Frodo, feeling terrible guilt… and I wonder if he thought of his father in this moment?  I wonder if he saw Denethor in himself as he lashed out at a helpless hobbit, the same way his father would lash out at his brother, Faramir? 

Just a thought.

But there is no time to dwell on this.  The Uruk-Hai attack and Boromir does what he does best, charging in to protect those he loves.  Three thick, splintering arrows plunge into his body one by one, and yet he continues to fight for the hobbits until he is taken at length by the agonizing pain and blood loss.  His last stand was made doing what he’d done all his life- defending his people.   His redemption came with this defense, but it came at the price of his life.  As it would later be spoken in Minas Tirith by a fool of a Took, “The mightiest man may be slain by one arrow, and Boromir was pierced by many.” 

His last ounce of strength spent, he lays dying and Aragorn comes to his side.  Boromir queries desperately about Frodo and begs for forgiveness for his failure but Aragorn assures him that Frodo and The Ring are safe and that he fought bravely and has kept his honor.  Gasping for breath, Boromir makes one last pleading attempt to convince Aragorn to take his rightful place as king.  “The world of men will fall,” he says with great difficulty, “and all will come to darkness, my city to ruin!” …to which the Ranger from the North finally, finally replies… "I do not know what strength is in my blood but I swear to you… I will not let the White City fall, nor our people fail.”

Our people.“

That’s all he wanted to hear.  His breaths are labored and pained but peace passes over his face as he reaches for his sword to voice his last words in salute:   “I would have followed you, my brother… my captain… my king.”

“Be at peace, Son of Gondor.”

Son of Gondor.  Yes, indeed.  Boromir was a patriot if there ever was one.  A true hero.  And it’s both heartbreaking and infuriating that he is so commonly misunderstood.  But at least one person got it… as he watches the body of his countryman disappear into the falls, Aragorn straps on Boromir’s bracers in his honor, knowing full well that it is time to face his responsibilities and reclaim his throne.  Boromir’s country is now his.

And that’s why I want to punch a wall anytime someone hates on Boromir, Captain of the White Tower of Gondor… because he is so much more than a mistake made in the forest of Amon Hen.  Have you ever noticed that when Faramir asks Frodo, “You are a friend of Boromir?” he replies without hesitation, “Yes.  For my part.”  Tolkien paints a beautiful portrait of forgiveness here.  Even Frodo refused to remember Boromir solely for his moment of weakness… so why should anyone else?

Remember Boromir.  Remember the friend who taught Merry and Pippin to use a sword… the big brother who provided a father’s love when it was not given… the warrior who fought for a dying country and a leaderless people.  Remember Boromir, Son of Gondor, for it was, after all, his persistence and courage that ultimately led a ranger to take his place as king.

Beauty and the Beasts

Originally posted by lokiandbooks


Summary: Fairy Tale AU. Reader is the child of Steven Rogers, the King of a poor land about to be attacked by a dragon. They call upon the Trickster, Loki, for protection. But is the price of his help too high for him to pay?

Pairing: Loki x reader

Warnings: None really, might be light swears, I don’t remember. 

A/N: Uh… so this might be a series if people like it… In the title Beasts is correct, it’s plural for a reason, but it’s not revealed in this chapter. So yeah… Oh and it is kinda supposed to be a Once Upon a Time ish story. 

———–

It was a sound like thunder from the north. The outskirts of the kingdom were ablaze and the king had called council with his best knights and advisors. His daughter sat quietly on a throne next to her mother. The young girl glanced around at the knights.

There was the Sir Thor, known as the Knight of the Storm. He came from somewhere unknown. There was Lady Romanoff, she was strong and had a quick wit. She may have even been the very best of the guard. Romanoff was often seen with the archer, Clint Barton. He never missed a shot and had the sharpest eye of all the knights. Lastly there was Y/n’s betrothed, Anthony Stark.

Stark was cocky, but smart. He was was inventive and could work his way out of any problem. Of course he was handsome, but Y/n did not love him. Unfortunately Sir Stark seemed to fancy the idea of trying to win her affections with flirting and daring acts of foolish bravery. Neither of them had a say on the matter of marriage, King Steven had planned their betrothal the day his daughter was born.

“Your Highness, why do you not send forth your knights?” Anthony Stark asked irritably from his seat.

“You may be a great swordsman, Stark, but none of you are a match for the dragon.” The king replied.

“What will you have us do?” Asked Lady Romanoff. “Sit and watch as the innocent die?” The King sighed and one of the advisors cleared his throat.

“May I make a suggestion your Highness?” Bruce Banner was the foremost royal advisor, as well as the royal family’s doctor. The king nodded for Bruce to continue. “Sir Thor… Your adopted brother is a sorcerer, is he not?”

The council was in immediate uproar once the question left Banner’s lips. Thor did indeed have an adopted brother, but he was full of black magic and evil illusions.

“How dare you even think to ask The Dark One for assistance.” Said Sir Barton. “You know magic always comes with a price.”

“The Trickster cannot be trusted. He would take what he wanted and leave us to die.” Said Stark. While the Knights argued with Bruce, the King said nothing. Sir Thor took notice.

“Your Majesty, your mind seems to be elsewhere.” He said. Steve looked around the table of knights and advisors.

“I agree with Banner.” He said. They began to protest, but he silenced them. “He is the best option we have if we want to save our people.”

“Right you are King Rogers.” Declared a new voice. He stood in the doorway, Loki, The Dark One. The Beast, the Trickster. Tony rose to his feet and drew his sword, thrusting the tip toward Loki’s chest.

Before the blade could even reach him, Stark was surrounded in what appeared to be a blue cloud that froze him in place. With a roll of his icy eyes he stepped out from in front of Stark’s frozen form and snapped his fingers. Tony was set back into motion and the follow through of his sword only struck the air where Loki had once stood. Confused, he looked around only to find Loki’s smirking figure completely unscathed. There was a brief moment where he thought about striking again, but he lowered his blade instead, keeping a watchful eye on the sorcerer. Seeing that Tony had - mostly - given up, Loki turned toward the King.

“I’ve seen your kingdom’s distress, your Highness.” The way he said the word ‘highness’ was not out of respect, it was a mocking tone. “ And I am indeed willing to help you.” Thor stood from his spot at the table to stand between the King and his brother.

“What would you plan on doing to help us? How would you defeat the dragon?” Thor questioned. Loki gave a lopsided smirk in reply.

“Lovely to see you too, brother.” He said, Thor scowled. “I see there are no time for pleasantries.” Thor frowned sadly. Y/N frowned too, she knew how upsetting it was for Thor to see his brother so absorbed in black magic. “My plan is simple. Very few things can pierce the hide of a dragon, magic is one of these things. It just so happens, that in my collection, I have an arrow.” Loki moved his hand in an upward motion and a flick of his wrist, in a puff of blue smoke an arrow appeared in his hand. “I’ve been told Sir Barton never misses a shot, if he aims for the head with this arrow the dragon will die.”

There was a small amount of awe from the council, even the King was intrigued. Thor was still frowning at his brother, he knew there was more to this bargain than any of the others knew. Though he had said nothing when Banner suggested the idea of asking Loki for help, Thor did not agree with him, for he knew that it would not come to a bargain that any of them would like.

“You’re help always comes with a price,” Thor began. “So what is it you want? You know our kingdom is poor, what could we possibly have that you would offer us this safety so willingly?” King Steven spoke from behind Thor.

“We are poor, but we could come up with a way of paying you back in small amounts on a timed schedule.” Steven suggested. “Or-”

“I don’t want money. I can get enough of that on my own.” Loki said.

“Than what do you want?” Asked the King. Loki’s eyes darkened as his smirk widened into a malicious grin and he gave a deep chuckle.

“Her.” It was a single, vague word, but he pointed at the prize he demanded. His cold gaze landed on her, Y/N Rogers. She shivered when she met his gaze. King Steven rose to his feet and Tony had his blade raised again.

“No! This is nonsense!” Steven shouted. “What could you possibly want my daughter for, and watch your tongue when answering this question.” Steven said threateningly, placing his hand on the sword hung and sheathed on his hip. Loki shrugged, as though innocent.

“Well you see, I had to dispose of my last servant a few months ago.” He said. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time to clean my home myself.” He said striding closer into the grand hall. “It could use what you call, a woman’s touch.”

“You will not have her.” declared Stark. Loki chuckled again.

“Well then this,” he waved the arrow in front of Tony. “Will just have to go back to my collection and you can all burn in a fiery rage from Hell.” Chaos erupted in the council again, they shouted and argued about what to do. Despite the words of many, King Steven refused to give in to Loki’s offer. While all this happened, Loki watched as Y/N sat quietly, with a thoughtful expression.

“STOP IT!” She shouted as she rose to her feet. The council fell silent and Loki grinned.

“The Lady does speak.” He mocked. She delivered a strong glare before she turned to a look of seriousness.

“If I choose to go with you, you will make sure my kingdom and my family survives?” She questioned. Tony stepped forward.

“Lady Y/N, you cannot-”

“I can do as I decide Sir Stark.” She said coldly, cutting him off. Loki sent a smirk in Tony’s direction. “Can you promise me these things, Dark One?” She returned her gaze to Loki.

“As long as Sir Barton hits the beast, I can guarantee safety from the dragon.” He said. “So what is your decision, Princess?” She frowned and turned to her father with doleful eyes. The King appeared to be near the edge of tears. She turned back to Loki again.

“I will go with you.” She declared and Loki’s smirk grew larger still. He placed a hand on her waist and pulled her closer to him. Out of surprise Lady Y/N’s hands landed on his chest, her face only centimeters from his.

“Then let us seal the deal.” He leaned in toward her, but she did not move. His lips met hers with slight harshness, she made no move to return his kiss but did not resist. As he pulled away from her he tossed the arrow to Sir Barton and in a puff of smoke everything around them disappeared.

They were no longer in the Castle of King Rogers, but instead were in a much darker grand hall in a new castle. Once they were there Y/N pushed herself away from Loki angrily. He gave her a rather dull expression, as though now that the deal was made he didn’t care about anything that happened.

“You didn’t even let me say goodbye!” She exclaimed. Her eyes glimmered with tears, but she held them back, refusing to cry in front of him. He rolled his eyes and strolled over to the table in the middle of the room.

“Goodbyes are tedious, Small One.” Loki said picking up a tray with an empty teapot on it. “You can start your duties as a servant by going and making a fresh pot of tea. You’ll find the kitchen at the bottom of the second stairwell down the hall.” he handed her the tray and she scowled, but followed his instructions nonetheless.

Lady Y/N found the kitchens with ease, and learned that the layout of the Dark One’s Castle was not much different from her own, except this place was much darker and dustier. Once she reached the kitchens she set the water to boil and lit the stove. She stood watching the water bubble while she thought about what was happening. Surely, she thought, I must be dreaming. After delivering a quick pinch to her arm, she realized she was in fact awake and she finally let a tear slip down her cheek.


That was three months ago. 

How they react...

…To a variety of goodbyes.


♡ ♡ \ Request from anonymous / ♡ ♡

Could you do a preference (males only if that’s okay) when they’re trying to say goodbye before leaving but end up giving in and taking you with them because theyd miss you too much? Tysm!

NOTE

I have changed this request slightly to add more variety

whilst still staying along the subject of goodbyes.

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No matter how much everything hurts

Prompt; Soulmate AU where you can take away pain from your soulmate or soulmate AU where you can transfer pain to your soulmate

AU where you can voluntarily open yourself up to take on half the pain your soulmate feels.

As soon as Luffy is old enough to understand where the pain is coming from, he takes it. He takes it all on, he takes it without question. Doesn’t even think about closing it all off.

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