Shinso612

 "Please," head hung, the sad, sorry knight was on his knees before her, as he was both in court for his Queen and in worship of Her. "Gwen," The one word, her pet-name, said all he was holding in. It gave her his adoration, his total loss of himself at her hands, his shaky ground that went wherever she did… and the tormented thoughts of a guilty conscience he'd lost sleep for. "You know how I adore you, that I shall forever remain your champion…" His eyes closed. "Yet I shall wither to a shell of myself should you continually make me the villain." He was at his hands and knees now. He could kiss her feet where she sat at the throne

I walk the streets of Wonderland today. The streets are not streets at all, for they wind and twist and corrupt themselves, getting me all the loster and loster. Yet I am happy, lost here in woods of purple and orange and aquamarine. For here I am in no hurry, and I have no place I've got to be, and I will only go somewhere if I want to be. Look, ahead of me, see that little house. Oh, I hear singing at that little house and I smell crumpets and tea. Onto it I walk, and in its chairs I happily am seated. "A very merry Un-birthday!" "How is a Raven like a writing-desk?" "We're all mad here." "Twinkle twinkle, little bat." Through colors

A boy awakens from his dream, but refuses the day to rob it of him. He will not be the one shoved about, he will not fight a battle unarmed. He will not be a modern-era nobody, rather a hero of an epic great. He dons his finest of velvets, his sword he is sure to carry, and his steed of pure red fire takes him onward to tournament. Sir Gilbert, this former squire goes by, and quite valiant is he. Beneath hair like a short curtain of gold, he looks at his world with crystal-blue windows for eyes. With hands nimble and white as snow, he fidgets with his satchel of all the essentials for a Knight Errant. He was not a knight well known, for

Snow was everywhere he tried to look.In front of him lay snow-capped hills, and behind him was a snowy valley. The trees were little more than shelves for the glittering white that blinded him as the sun shown. In America, they still chased butterflies and grew sunflowers. In France, they likely sat out in lovely parks holding hands. A Light jacket was the only armour needed in the rest of the world. Yet his General Winter, his ruler more mighty than the greatest Tsar, more feared than any Evil Monk, who killed more than Stalin; He had already lain out the lines for battle. He was readying his troupe of snow-faeries for the ruthless attack.

Sir Lancelot rides to London on a stormy day His body aches in tune with his heart His horse is wear for a stop, But he cannon stop, Sir Lancelot, For he's his final deed to do, He rides to his home He rides to his heart And the breaking of them both, For no longer is he noble knight of sword and honor No longer will he stand in valor, He rides to Camelot And he rides to the death of his heart That it may save the life of his love, What a wondrous love he had Once Upon a Time She was fair Guenevere And he was her Champion And both of them, they loved their King And he, they in return, With narry a quarrel For forbidden lov

Jace, Why? That's the one thing I want to know from you, Jace. WHY? Why, why, why, BY THE ANGEL, Jace! Why her? Why are you destroying yourself like this over a MUNDANE? A shadowhunter, so you think, but the girl isn't, Jace. She's not good for you, not part of this word. But you show her things you wouldn't show me for years. And you tell her things I only got to know from patience, from being at your side for years upon years! And how long has she been here, this girl? Who you took into the greenhouse, the one *I* showed you when you were upset? The one in which you brought up becoming parabatai! And you're kissing her. It makes me sick. I

Dearest Anna, Anna, I promised you the world. And you deserve it to date, wonderful creature you are. Do you remember how we met, the two of us? I suppose you might not, but it's something I'm not likely to forget, the day in Idris. There's nothing like it, Anna, and you only made it lovelier. And, while I won't hold you to bitterness for it, you made me hate New York all the more. But when we met, New York didn't exist, Maryse didn't exist. I was the young man again as you asked me to come in and avoid the rain, and you said that Shadowhunters die often, but to die of Pneumonia was just sad. Annamarie Highsmith, I've done things I regret,

Mister William Herondale, You've been in the grave quite long, haven't you, Will? It's past the year two-thousand now. Long past it, actually, by years. Will... I never, never, would have told you this in life. William Herondale, I love your blue eyes, your dark hair, your good heart no matter how you hide it. I love you. I did when you lived and I do to date, so don't worry, Shadowhunter. You're adored even in the ground. Times have changed... I think you'd have liked this era. It's one in which my outer appearance can reflect my inner... star. One where the stories you so loved are held as classic literature, respected and loved even now.