why won’t SOMEONE ELSE create media with all the highly specific extremely esoteric themes motifs imagery and allusions i personally wish were in things
Meridia
Naturalists have got to be one of the groups of people most susceptible to being tricked by the fae. Travellers these days are much less likely to follow a mysterious light or the smell of roast beef into the forest. Meanwhile, find me a naturalist who would not completely lose themself in pursuit of:
The Fae better be fuckin ready to be tagged and fitted with a Radio Collar for Science then, I got new hiking boots and no other ideas for research grant money.
it’s called fashion, sweaty
azgaar generated map beloved
THERE WE GO
i'm really just doing all this on my work laptop LMAO
Ao3 Collection | Exchange Discord
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have some out of context btaf
“you assume biscella is stupid. even if she did not know what this pregnancy would do to her, do not assume she did not know he was not of human make.”
azelie beloved....
“i know that my mother could never have loved what she was forced to bear—but for the love i have of her, for her memory’s sake, i pray you will help me convince biscella not to do this.”
I love this scene too much not to share it, so I’m going to combine some tags: @lychhiker-writes here and @ahordeofwasps here.
This interrogation scene takes place in Ch. 4 (formerly Ch. 2) of ToL, after Oliver has been arrested for treason. It was originally meant to be kind of whumpy but this dialogue really swept me away.
WC: 752 (feel no need to read the entire thing)
CW: Very mild violence.
Captain Hollowar stepped forward, revealing his scabbard being cradled by her wiry arms.
“You foolish boy,” she spat. “So spoiled.” The hilt of his sword glistened beneath the dim light. She rested the scabbard on the floor and leaned against it as she glowered at him. “I put this sword in your hands. I trained you to wield it. That uniform you wear–I put you in it. I made you.”
Her hand reached for the edge of his cape and pulled it hard, until the silk ties were tight against his throat. She let the scabbard fall and loosened the cape. It fell to the ground, and she turned her attention to his armor. “All you ever had to do was obey me!”
With each shrill word, she tore more from him until he was stripped of protection and left shivering. The armor lay at his feet, taunting him. Her eyes twitched as he raised his head.
“Come off it, Moire. Whose name do we all swear fealty to–yours, or mine?”
She chuckled through a mask of cool indifference. “A rather shrewd observation, coming from you. And…” She let the word dangle from her lips, drawing him in. “You have identified the poison that has been rotting this city’s roots for decades.”
He closed his eyes and let his head fall to his chest, hoping she would cease her rambling.
“Legacy,” she continued. “And never the ones that deserve to be eternal.”
His eyes opened. “Are you testing me?”
