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Rhysand: Why can't dinosaurs clap?

Feyre [sighing]: Because their hands are too sh-

Amren: Because they're all dead

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Rowan: Aelin? It's 4am, why are you baking a cake? And what's with the party decorations and sweets?

Aelin: I'm celebrating the death of my sleep schedule and sanity. Want a cookie?

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You know what? My favourite character in tog is Sorscha.

She has a great head on her shoulders...

Please don't kill me.

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Aelin: Here you go, Rowan. A nice, hot cup of coffee.

Rowan: It's cold.

Aelin: A nice cup of coffee.

Rowan: It's horrible.

Aelin: A cup of coffee.

Rowan: I'm not even sure that this is coffee.

Aelin: A cup.

Rowan: This is a mug, Aelin.

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Two words:

Angry snowball.

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Aedion: Good morning

Dorian: Good morning everyone! :)

Elide: Good morninggg

Manon: ... Good morning

Lysandra: Good morning guys

Rowan: You all sound like robots saying "Good morning, good morning."

Change it up a little.

Aelin: HELLO MOTHERFUCKERS

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If you had to pick one thing to have on an island, what would it be?

You: Food

You: Water

You: Shelter

Me, an intellectual: A Rhysand

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Kingdom of Ashes: Theory

I don’t think that the title means that Aelin is going to die. I think that maybe her fire powers will be extinguished, but not her life coming to an end. Ashes don’t necessarily mean the end; they can also mean the beginning. Like after a fire the ashes go into the soil and helps the plants grow etc. It’s a far stretch but I reckon that Aelin is only going to have the powers from her mother; the drop of water, and lose her fire power. 

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GUYS ROWAN IS LIKE THE SURIEL OF TOG:

Rowan: Lol Aedion Gavriel is your father btw

Adeion: Wtf

Rowan: Lmao you are a shapeshifter

Lysandra: ????

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Rowan: Fireheart could you get me a glass of water?

Aelin: Sure

-Two minutes later-

Aelin: Here it is

Aelin: *Chucks the water at him, then the glass*

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Aelin: *Low humming, sexy smile*

Rowan: *Blushing furiously*

Aelin: *Puts hand under his chin*

Aelin: *Leans into his ear*

Aelin: I think we should have Chinese for dinner.

Aelin: *Sits back down*

Rowan: Oh for the love of-

Rowan: *Repeatedly smacks her with a pillow*

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Rowan: We're not killing anyone today

Aelin: Killjoy

Rowan:

Rowan: We're not killing Joy

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Aelin: Good morning

Rowan: “Good morning?” Aelin, men like me don’t deserve good mornings. When I was 14-

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Aelin: Oh my fucking god

Rowan: Language

Aelin: Oh my fucking gosh

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You know the exact words your soulmate will first say to you because you have a tattoo one it on your wrist (appears when you turn 18):

Here is my spin of this idea, hope you enjoy. Warning: contains some suicidal/self harm writing - please be careful ♡

“Stop! Don’t jump!” She screamed at him.

“Why the young man said, not turning to look at her. He was looking down at the rushing water far below. She assessed him quickly: He seemed a little older than her. He had brown hair, broad shoulders and was tall... And he was mere centimetres away from that edge.

“Because,” she inched closer. “I can help you.” He turned his head to look at her.

“I don't want your help,” he hissed at her. Despair was written across his face, and his brown eyes seemed dull... Lifeless. She knew he was seconds away from jumping. Her dark brown hair whipped in the breeze as she noticed the tattoo on his wrist, which symbolised the first words his soulmate would say to him.  Alessandra didn’t have her tattoo, yet. No one did, until they turned 18. 

She whispered to him, “Live for the person on your wrist. Live for them.” He glanced at it for a second, then turned to look back at her.

“For all I know, they could be fricken dead. Those words,” his voice trailed off, and his brown eyes seemed to turn a shade darker under the overcast sky. “Those words,” he continued “mean nothing, absolutely nothing to me.” She felt her chest tighten. Soulmates were everything in this world, to her at least. “They could be dead for all I know. Or I fucken,” she winced at the word, “might’ve passed them in the streets, or maybe I played with them in the playground as a kid. I might never find them again!” His eyebrows creased together as he squeezed his eyes shut. “I have nothing to live for. No one. And I don’t care. I. Do. Not. Care... Anymore.” He seemed to be saying this more to himself than to her. The young man turned to face the vast expanse of the estuary before him, and opened his lifeless eyes once more. The wind stirred his swept fringe as Alessandra’s dark eyebrows knitted together. She had slowly moved towards him, and could have almost reached out and grabbed him. 

“How do you know though? They could be alive and around the corner. You could bump into them on the street tomorrow,” she said to him gently. How could she distract him? “Isn’t that enough?” she called out to him. She was just in reach of him. “There are still so many things in life you have yet to see. You don’t have to end your life because that one person hasn’t shown up yet.”

“I’ve seen everything, done everything,” he said coldly.

“Have you though, really? Done everything? Have you been to every place in the world? Fallen asleep under a blanket of stars? Had a midnight conversation, and talked for so long your voice was raw? Laughed so hard you could barely breathe? Baked cookies, and even though they might’ve been burnt, eaten them anyway? Have you stayed up until 2am in the morning finishing that one book, even though you thought your eyes might drop out? Slept in until 2 in the afternoon because, well, why the heck not? Gone on that roller coaster ride and felt sick afterwards? Eaten as many pieces of cake as you could stomach? Been to university? Had a family? Worked away at having the best body you could have? Gone snorkelling at some of the most beautiful places in the world? Been married? Grown old with the person you love, and once that day comes, felt content and... Happy? Have you really, truly lived?”

There was silence. 

“I don’t care about any of those things.” The words hit her like bullets.

“Well,” Alessandra’s voice cracked.”If your looking for a sign not to jump... Here I am.” He did not move. There was quiet for a long while, and se wondered what thoughts were going through his head.

“What are the words on your wrist?” She asked, if only to save him from those churning depths.

“Who cares?”

“I do. Now tell me, you cabbage head,” she ordered him.

“Fine. It says ‘Stop.’ Are you happy? Go, for gods sake leave me the fuck alone.” She would do not such thing.

“I’m not leaving you, cabbage head.” Alessandra felt as though she had to stay, like a magnet was keeping her in place. She would not let him die, she would not fail him. 

There was silence before he asked quietly, “What were your first words to me?” She thought for a second and said, “Stop, don't jump. Why?” His mouth parted slightly and he made a choking sound. 

“You’re the one,” he stuttered. She felt her own eyes widen. He looked down at the tattoo on his wrist again and rose his eyes to meet hers. His coffee brown eyes had a new light in them... And they looked glassy. “You’re the one...” he repeated. He wobbly stepped down from the wall that overlooked the estuary and... Collapsed into her. He was very tall, and heavy, but she just stood there. Alessandra was completely shocked, but relief rushed through her. He wrapped his arms around her and choked out. “You’re... You’re the one.” She felt her eyes fill with tears as he pressed his face into the cradle of her arm. Her should felt damp and Alessandra heard muffled sobs. His brown fringe shifted over his face as she brought her arms around him. She did not know how to comfort him properly, and even though her arms moved, she felt paralysed. “Shh it’s okay, you’re safe now,” she whispered to him. It felt like the right thing to say. He crushed her tighter into his chest.

How was it... That even though she didn’t know this man, didn’t even know his name, she knew his whole story? From the day she stared, horrified, at the bloody lines that appeared on her arms, without her control. The bruises from his beltings. The scars from his own hand. And how was it... That she felt such a strong connection to him. And it scared her that if she had appeared a minute later... She might had never met him...

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Mark of a successful pun: “Was that… a pun?!”

Mark of a mediocre pun: loud groaning

Mark of a failed pun: extensive bruising

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Rowan: Aelin you need a hobby

Aelin: I have a hobby

Rowan:

Rowan: Aelin, killing people is not a hobby