#please do comment

[visionofnoxus]

✿ (If you're still accepting these)

// And here we go. Hope you like it!

The muffled voices from behind the sturdy doors leading into his office peaked Swain curiosity. Putting down the quill and perking his ears, he attempted to piece together what the commotion was about. He didn’t have to ponder for long however, as the commotion announced itself while making a flashy entry.

The double doors swung open, clanging against the walls as the Crimson Reaper himself made his appearance, that familiar unsettling grin stretched across his face. A panicked trifarian legionnaire, one of the two posted outside doors was panicking and tailing the hemomancer, asking him to leave, telling how one could not just barge into the Grand General’s office like they owned the place and so on. That line of reasoning was shown to be somewhat lacking as the hemomancer had just done exactly that. 

Staring at the ancient sorcerer striding towards him, Swain sighed quietly. “Leave, sergeant. And make sure that no one else has the chance to repeat marques Vladimir’s… Flashy entrance”. The poor soldier turned pale at his calm order, bowing and practically running out of the office, leaving the two warlocks alone. “Jericho Swain, How are you feeling?” Vladimir said with mockingly sweet tone. 

Swain suppressed a groan. This meeting would no doubt be at the very least a verbal fencing match. Ignoring the pleasantries, he moved on. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company today, Vladimir?” He replied in cool tone, narrowing his eyes at the man. “It must be something very important to bring you into my office in such a… Rushed fashion”. The tone of the sentence did poor work of masking the obvious criticism with feigned worry. 

“Ah but it is. And this is not a matter that could ever be solved with a message. No, such an important task required a bit of a personal touch. A certain presence” The hemomancer waved his finger at the general, annoying Swain more by each the second. He knew he was being played here, but towards end? “What is this important matter then?” He repeated the question, this time remarkably more straightforward.

“Ah but I already said it” the other man answered cryptically, Grand General furrowing his brows in confusion. Sighing melodramatically, the nobleman did not explain further, instead closing the distance between himself and Swain. Stepping right on the opposite side of the general’s massive work desk, he eyed the mortal with an evaluating gaze. Scanned the man through and through, even leaning forward as if to get a closer look. Finally he nodded. “Yes. I suppose all is fine”. That elicited a groan from the object of his curiosity. “What do you mean? Explain yourself Vladimir. Now” Swain ordered, his usually everlasting patience worn out in matter of minutes by the infuriating blood sucker. 

Taking an eye contact, the leech finally explained properly, smiling with a brazen glee. “Oh but I had to confirm you were in good health. You are the Grand General of Noxus after all”. Swain felt his mind blank. His eyes showed the open confusion, the realization trickling in slowly as the other man spoke on: “Following that little spar of ours, I had to make sure that you were alright. After all, you did get your feathers ruffled quite a bit no? I’d never forgive myself if…” That was as far as Vladimir got with his last insult, Swain shooting up from his seat with unnatural speed. The demonic left hand grasped hemomancer by the neck, pulling him over the table the socialite had still been leaning on, paper stacks flying in the air and scattering in all directions. With all the brute strength the Grand General was able to muster and even borrowing some from his demonic ally, Swain smashed Vladimir against the floor, choking the lithe man with enough strength to dent iron. It wasn’t enough to meaningfully harm the hemomancer though, and despite the obvious pain and discomfort of the attack, Vladimir’s smile never waned. 

Wheezing laughter escaped his lips as Swain hissed at him. “You disturb my staff. Barge into my office and disrupt my work. You sass me to my face and play with words instead of speaking out. And now it turns out it was a childish joke!?”. The man was livid, but the hemomancer just smiled. “Ah, but it was LeBlanc who urged me to come see you, to clean the air a little. And here I am”. Even now, the insufferable creature taunted him, twisting what had no doubt been a bit more complicated set of instructions into a taunt to try Swain’s nerves with. 

Shouting with anger and frustration, Swain stood up, still holding the hemomancer. With a single massive swing he hurled the other man across the office, sending the offending fool crashing towards the very doors he’d barged through earlier. It was only adding to the annoyance of the Grand General when by some miracle Vladimir regained control, falling on the floor with a cat-like grace and step as light as a feather. Truly inhumane looking movement, as if the hemomancer had flown for a second there. Bowing sarcastically to Swain, he spoke his farewell: “It was wonderful to talk with you Swain, maybe we should make this regular?”. “Get. Out” the general spat, his eyes the glowing with color of blood. And for once, the Crimson Reaper understood to just leave. He’d seen that look that Swain just gave him, and it had nearly ended him not too far in the history. Turning on his heels, Vladimir left, leaving the Grand General simmering with rage.

[doodlemeimpressed]

Show not tell? Nah, fuck that. Here’s August’s short and bitter-sweet backstory. 

Trigger warning for a small suicide mention!

[chromium7sky]

Need help for Mothra’s pre-kotm clothes color scheme 😭😭😭 please do comment 😁😁

[life-for-the-brave-blog]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: Baahubali (Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Amarendra Baahubali/Devasena, Bhalladeva/Original Female Character Characters: Amarendra Baahubali, Bhalladeva, Sivagami Devi, Bijalla Deva, Original Female Character(s), Kattapa, Sanga, Pindaris, Kalakeyas, Original Male Character(s), Kumara Varma, Devasena Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Mystery, Kooli temple, Udhayagiri, Waterfall, Kunthala, The Islands of Malawa, Nishada, Adventure, Politics, Comments are appreciated by the author even if the fic is old, Give it a try, Please start from the beginning for intricacies Summary:

Politics is almost as exciting as war and quite as dangerous. In a war, you can be killed once, but in politics many times - Winston Churchill.

What if the political atmosphere of Mahishmati was not that simple? What if it was spanning for generations together? How would the current generation cope?

@iwearplaids thanks for being beta darling 😘

[tinydooms]

A Name That More Approaches Truth: Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen: Family

    Belle sat before the fire in the little drawing room, staring into the flames. It was late, or perhaps very early, but still she could not sleep. She couldn't get the little dusty room in Paris out of her mind, or the doctor's mask in the Beast's hand. Plague. Her mother had died of plague. The horror of it made Belle cold. To be left to die was bad enough, but she couldn't imagine what her father endured, leaving mama there alone.

    How did he live with himself for it? Belle's heart went out to her father. Maurice was the kindest, gentlest man she knew, and had always carried sorrow in his heart. But he had never let it make him bitter. His fear and sadness made more sense to her now. Belle had always suspected that something terrible happened to her mother; she had just never imagined what.

    It had been difficult to think after the Beast had brought her home. He had left her alone at her request, and after having a good cry by the library fire, Belle had made her way to her room. Madame de Garderobe had been sleeping, and no one had bothered Belle except to bring her up some dinner (Mrs. Potts) and a vase of white roses (Chapeau). She had eaten the former and set the latter on her dressing table, putting her face against the soft white blossoms and inhaling their familiar scent. White roses, for peace. A gift from the master of the castle.

    She hadn't felt up for conversation, but had spent the rest of the evening pacing and thinking, trying to make sense of her emotions, until suddenly the opulent bedroom had seemed too close and confined, and she had made her way downstairs.

    Belle shifted in front of the fire. It was small, stirred up from the coals and already half-dead; the staff were long abed and there were no logs left to add to it. Belle didn't really mind, though the cold was beginning to get to her. She had changed into her nightdress and dressing gown a while ago, in an attempt to settle down. Pity there wasn't a blanket in this room, like there was up in the library. She'd have to remedy that tomorrow. Belle sighed, wondering what time it was, and jumped, as the door creaked open.

    “Is someone there?” the Beast sounded guarded, as though expecting an intruder.

Read more at AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11779242/chapters/27507030

[visionofnoxus]

☠ - for my muse to try and kill or attack yours. ( uwu honestly feel free for a reverse if you want. )

// Here we go. Hope you enjoy. I also think you might guess just what had Swain deciding to take such a... Drastic approach. The straw that broke the camel’s back so to say.

“A spar, my dear general?” Vladimir asked, his voice a mix of confusion and delight at the prospect. Smiling like a Cheshire cat, he circled Swain like a shark sensing a dinner. “It’d be my honor of course... But you do realize there is the potential issue of... Accidents?”. “I take complete responsibility for any injury inflicted on my form” The general said reassuringly, his face the image of understanding. Were it not for the hemomancer’s vanity, this would had rung the alarm bell. Loudly.

The two entered the arena that the nobility sometimes used for spars or honour duels. The ground was sand, pillars on the edge of the arena marking the border which one had to stay inside of to be counted victor. There were no audience, but Vladimir found that to be very much alright. Usually the adoration his movements invoked was something he’d cherish, but in this case... Well it might be better if there were no witnesses to sustain the... plausible deniability. “On your mark, Grand General” He bowed mockingly, grin stretching from ear to ear. 

“How very thoughtful of you” came the answer with a tone colder than the harshest winter chill. And on that very second, as the final syllable left Swain’s lips, the immortal finally understood the situation, his eyes shooting up to see the first spell being conjured.

Throwing himself into a fall on his back, showcasing the kind of agility no mortal could showcase and defying all laws of gravity, Vladimir dodged a wave of crimson arcane lightning, recovering to a standing position instantly. While not deadly to someone of his might, those bolts would had seared his flesh into a crisp. Anyone else would had been cooked instantly. Drawing out an orb of blood on the tip of his claws, Vlad narrowed his eyes. So be it, Swain. He thought grimly, starting to draw his power out in magnitude not required of him in years.

But the hemomancer’s initial lightheartedness put him in a disadvantage. For while his power was only now gathering, Swain had made sure to prepare every trick in his arsenal before even issuing the invitation. Another bolt of lightning lashed out from the now exposed demonic arm, the hemomancer spinning behind one of the stone pillars, hearing and feeling how pieces of stone cracked and shattered at the strength of the spell. Clicking his tongue, the mage spun out in the open, the orb of blood yielding three sharp needles made of blood, and with a wave of a hand, they shot out with the speed rivaling that of a crossbow bolt. 

It was Swain’s turn to dodge, but he lacked the same agility that his opponent possessed, one of the shots lodging itself on his shoulder, digging deep, rending at the mortal’s flesh. “Hah!” The hemomancer barked a laugh, drawing on the open wound, the grunt of pain Swain let out the sweetest, long awaited musical piece to his ear. Cursing under his breath, the man cast a spell as if tossing a punch and Vladimir was forced back on the back foot, dodging the claw-like arcana blast thrown his way. “Ah but I know of this one!” He exclaimed, having studied the general’s tactics and indeed, the very moment the spell passed him, it had halted advance, recalling with twice the velocity. But by the time it reached where Vlad had moments earlier been, he had already moved to the side, shooting another set of needle sharp shots into Swain, the self satisfaction evident on his face as this time two spells found their mark, the general collapsing on his knees, catching his fall with those two crimson arms. “Time to draw you ou...” Wait. Two red hands? 

And on that moment the second arcana claw struck at Vladimir from behind, rending the coat and breaking the skin, inflicting catastrophic laceration wounds on him that would had spelled instant death for any normal sorcerer. Howling with pain and rage as he fell on his knees as well, the hemomancer poured his magic to mending the damage. Vlad glared at Swain who was knelt down on the other side of field, the mortal’s eyes filled with demonic sorcery, his form covered with the aura of the creature. The hemomancer could make out the outline of transparent wings, but for now it was nothing but that, image. Swain was in the process of entering full transformation, unleashing everything his primordial ally could bring to bear. Looking back at it, Vlad would eventually find it flattering, the unmistakable proof the leader of Noxus intended to slay him with all the might the old raven could gather. But right now the image brought forward another fragment of his past. Another creature with large dark wings and power far above that of mortal sorcerers. 

Howling with rage and fear at this memory, he tapped into his own might, conjuring a spell to finish off his enemy. One way or another, this fight would be settled with the next exchange. 

“STOP! BOTH OF YOU STOP!” A crystal clear voice of a woman shouted, it’s strength further enhanced by magic. An image flashed in front of both combatants: a pale woman clad in cape and elegant dress, her dark make up accentuating the gold colored eyes glaring at them. “STOP! Swain, Vladimir, reel it in at once!”. Both combatants blinked, their focus broken, and in that instant a series of golden chains wrapped around both their wrists, LeBlanc’s spells weaving wards and suppression spells around both of them as she emerged from shadows, daring to come within the range of the two sorcerers. She stepped between the two, her usual smile gone as she scolded them: “Your fight has drawn the attention of every spell caster in Immortal Bastion. The guards are 30 seconds away from that door” She pointed one manicured finger at the double doors leading into the hall. “Gather yourselves. Quickly before we have a civil war in the city”. With that and and a snap of her fingers, the barriers of magic fell, the chains disappearing into the air. The Deceiver once more wore the coy smile she always had, stepping outside the arena and conjuring an elegant arm chair with a flick of a wrist, taking seat as if she’d been observing the fight. The two combatants glared at one another, but knew what must be done.

As the doors sprung open, the trifarians charging in with Darius on their heels, they arrived to the sight of Swain and Vladimir offering each other a courteous bow, thanking each other for excellent spar, the Matron of Black Rose clapping with a quiet but satisfied smile at the no doubt wondrous magical duel.

[visionofnoxus]

✿ - to grab my muse by the throat and pin them to a wall/table/floor/etc

This is a long one so for the sake of everyone’s Dash:

The Grand General strode down the corridor of the mansion, the sound of his steps muffled by the crimson colored carpet. Stopping in front of a large window, he turned his attention outside, scanning the walls that defined the outer perimeter of the near fortress-like manor. The bronze of his eyes yielded way for crimson, the sorcery flaring as the general whispered: “So you’ve come…”. Turning from the large window, he began walking towards the inner courtyard of the Gothic mansion, nimble fingers loosening the leather glove fastened on his left hand, eventually removing it and revealing the clawed hand made of crimson colored arcana.

Just as he removed the glove, the shattering of glass signaled the start of the attack, Swain stepping back with unnatural speed, avoiding just barely a series of three silver bolts that struck harmlessly into the stonewall across from the windows. “Come then, Demacian! See if you can add me to the list!” The noxian taunted, taking cover between the windows. Not two seconds later, a glass panel ten meters behind him shattered, a figure clad in crimson and midnight blue diving through the crystal shards of glass, sending another series of bolts at the Grand General who caught them with his great coat, discarding the cloth immediately after. His eyes now glowing with demonic sorcery, the clawed hand extended, several bolts of dark sorcery launching forward the night hunter, one landing a scratching hit on her leg despite her rolling out of the way. Swain found himself impressed as no sound left the lips of his would-be killer, despite clearly painful hit. Making a lightning fast decision, Swain charged his attacker. He’d have to end this quick or her bolts would end him.

Coming up from the dodge with loaded weapon again, Vayne leveled her hand with her target, firing away with precision that would put most marksmen to shame. But her foe was not a wild animal or a soldier, but a demon. She knew this though. Had known it going in already. Of the tree bolts sent flying just now, one skimmed off the dark iron breastplate the noxian wore. Enchanted no doubt. Second sunk on his shoulder and Vayne felt a tiniest bit of cold satisfaction at the grimace the old man’s face showed. Third one sadly went amiss, the creature managing to crouch to avoid the headshot. It sent another crackling spell in her direction, a bloody claw like the one it’s left hand was, but with an elegant pirouette the hunter dodged, the spell going harmlessly past her.

Knowing she needed to keep the distance, the woman threw herself backwards, rotating her body mid-fall to land on her feet and launching forward, reloading the fourth volley into her crossbow. Then a cold shiver went through her spine, her eyes catching the sight of a blood colored transparent claw in front of her, retracting back towards her like wall of blades. Not having time to properly react, Vayne threw herself wildly to the side, avoiding the deadly grasp ever so slightly and landing face first on the floor. Before she could recover though, she felt the weight of a man tackle her from behind, pinning the woman on the ground. The fall knocked the air out of her lungs but Vayne knew her life was being measured in seconds now. With a sheer muscle memory and strength of will she twisted herself around, clutching a silver tipped bold in her fist, intending to bury it on the jugular of the demonic general. 

Unfortunately her time had ran out, Noxian’s fingers seizing the bold clutching hand while his left hand grasped her neck, the claws cutting into her skin, the vile sorcery immediately running against her skin, the night hunter feeling how the demon drew her vitality into itself, no doubt attempting to purge the poisoning of silver in it’s host’s shoulder. “Seize” came the inhumane growl from the creature. Believing this a distraction to just bring forth the inevitable death, she fought the grasp it had on her hand, Vayne attempting to bring the bolt up to it’s neck, but the grip was stronger than any mortal had the right for. “Seize, night hunter. I am not the enemy you truly seek” The monster spoke again, it’s crimson eyes staring straight into hers and she felt like it was peering into her very soul. 

The sorcery sapped at her strength by the second and as it did, she could see flashes of her life in her eyes. Childhood, her parents, their home… Was she dying? And with horrible realization, she understood. As Vayne’s life was fading, the monster was gleaming her memories, trespassing in her very soul with impunity and looking at her life. With a trembling hand, her free arm managed to pull a silver dagger from her belt, starting to angle it so maybe, just maybe she could shove it underneath the noxian’s plate and end the monster before it finished devouring her life force. And then it spoke for the third time: “Evelynn”. Despite her effort, Vayne felt herself stop at the name. “You are searching for Evelynn”. 

And with that, the claw was removed from her neck, leaving behind the large bruises and laceration marks, but no longer threatening her life. Looking up at the noxian, Vayne blinked furiously, trying to make the black dots disappear from her vision. The crimson glow of the man’s eyes had disappeared, the man getting up from on top of her. “This one’s name is Raum. And it has no love for the one you seek. In fact, we maybe able to help you, Vayne the Night Hunter” Swain said, a quiet smile spreading on his lips.

// Well. Hell. I’ve been wanting to tell this story for years. Now I did. Hope it did your muse justice. Please do comment, give thoughts, emotions, something. That is what keeps me writing. Also, you might wanna read this, Vayne-mun.

[feministxbones]

On Beyonce and Beck

While I understand the 'artistry' comments, I think it's problematic that people have to say he's somehow better than her because of the sheer number of instruments he plays or that she uses more writers than he does. Because someone works on something with a larger group makes the thing less valuable? I think when we generally consider large projects, we prefer projects that have had diverse input and have seen many sets of eyes, so to speak. I also think that Kanye's issue (since most people are pointing out him as the example of this) was that Beck's album wasn't groundbreaking in the way Beyonce's was in terms of setting a different bar for marketing and production speed. She put that stuff out and into tour and perfected it so quickly, and that's truly amazing. My final issue is that I think we also have to consider the scope of audience that her album reached and the topics it broached vs. Beck's. Idk... he's undoubtedly a brilliant musician, but I gotta stand with Kanye. When you look at the whole entirety of the album from start to finish, I don't think it was album of the year by any means. An article like this whittles down that is deemed 'best' to very narrow-minded views of numbers.

That being said, I don't think that the Grammy's are an accurate measure of 'best' either, so there's that, and I don't think she's mad. What do you all think?