#66 Bars
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Cyrus Malachi - 66 Bars
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britishhiphop · 23 days ago
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Cyrus Malachi - 66 Bars [Audio]
Some new long-awaited barz from Triple Darkness veteran Cyrus Malachi over a 38 Spesh from Rochester, NY, beat. The piano backing and rumbling bass of 66 Bars form the palette for Cyrus’ dark imagery and current references. No one touching this conscious flow of metaphors and similies. Cyrus Malachi https://www.instagram.com/cyrusmalachitd 38…
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williammarksommer · 29 days ago
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The Berghoff
66 series 
Hasselblad 500c/m
Kodak Ektar 100iso
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herebecritters · 1 year ago
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Messes - 3-
Hopps - @ickyguts teehee
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darth-kote · 1 month ago
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Rex headcanons Pt. 1
Revels in even the smallest shred of attention from those he loves, which typically doesn't exceed more than the Jedi and his brothers. I can imagine Rex, running on absolute fumes and aching to go horizontal after the latest campaign, giving in when Fives or Jesse (or anyone else) smile at him with hope reflecting in their eyes – hope of spending time together, sharing laughs and drunken confessions. It wasn't often he was granted the opportunity to stop being Captain Rex (Ori'vod, the Battalion called him) and let his guards down. Though not blessed with ease in conversation and a relaxed disposition that some of his brothers developed after leaving Kamino, Rex craves connection more than anything. He wishes to understand the secret aspirations of his brothers just as much as he wishes to know their deepest fears so that he may do his best to ensure they never happen.
In the same vein, Rex prides himself in his implementation of risk prevention strategies. But he blames himself when things go haywire. Like his Jedi general, releasing control and accepting loss are difficult for Rex. If he could take blaster bolts to bring back every fallen brother, he'd do it without thinking – and he'd wear each scar with pride. This doesn't stem from a place of pride or wanting to be a hero. It goes back, instead, to the isolation he remembers before finding those he belonged with, those who looked like him, spoke like him and understood the loneliness he'd felt and could not go back to. Instead, it was the dread that filled him each time he thought about the dreams of a brother burning out like yet another star from a dying system that kept his feet trudging through each battlefield. There was a hope that, after the war, the clones would be granted more humanity.
When graced with time, Rex will say a silent prayer for the brothers who perished so that he could continue their mission. At first, he keeps his helmet on to hide the streaks of dampness that leave trails through the dirt and grime on his cheeks. As the months and years go by, however, he removes his helmet so that his brother's identity is not the only one left unknown by the harsh world he died in. (The tears eventually hesitate to fall too, and he hates it.) The prayers usually are an angry jumble of chaotic thoughts accompanied by the hope that his brothers' souls will find peace now that they were not being forced to fight a war that wasn't theirs. Ahsoka realizes this and encourages Rex to meditate and let his anger go to the Force.
Since Saleucami, Rex has been preoccupied with thoughts of building his own home and family. He wonders if there could be someone out there waiting for him, someone he'd have the pleasure to know and protect of his own volition. He finds himself daydreaming about four walls that he can call his, that he can fill with the things he chooses – to eat warm meals in, rather than a bland ration bar. Ideally, it'd be enough land to have space for any brothers who wish to visit or stay.
When asleep somewhere he knows is safe, he finds himself dreaming of someone beside him. The apparition has no specific traits or physicality; it's just the idea of having someone close, someone near, that gets him to relax and begin drifting into a dream. He likes to run through the mental catalogue of planets he's seen, the foliage, the weather, and the people. Though when awake, he does his best to push the fictional future he dreamed of deep down into the pit of his stomach; the possibility of not having that someday causes fear to fill his heart. And fear, he's heard, ultimately leads to suffering.
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crossbackpoke-check · 5 months ago
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giroux x any of then sens youngins
banging my pots and pans together WHY NOT ALL OF THEM
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claude giroux, as demonstrated by the pie chart, is so beautiful and so shippable. i want those sens yungins to make him feel like an absolute dinosaur and i would read any and all of it even if i am more partial to claude/flyers pairings. to be specific:
josh norris: i need you to watch this video and tell me that's not horny. in what other contexts can you teach josh french, claude
timmy stü: i know there's gifs out there but the way he is with claude on the bench... ohhh he wants to fuck that old man so bad, he wants that old man to tell him he's pretty and doing so well
brady: idealistic/intellectual match rather than pure physical To Me. would be very interesting to explore if brady sees a future in claude, if claude sees his past in brady, the chain of captaincy etc etc
brady AND timmy: i love linemates who are obsessed with each other and seducing their old man case closed
thomas chabot: who would i be if i did not give you a pairing for no reason other than i said so. french canadian connection? the thread is out there somewhere and it's in whatever tiktoks chabby sends to claude
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motheatenscarf · 1 year ago
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Man, I'm REALLY liking Dancer in group content.
Not to toot my own horn, but as a melee dps main at heart, this feels like the ranged class that was built for me specifically because I'm really good at syncing up with Reapers in particular because it's my main class and I know the fights decently enough by now to know when to buff them for uptime.
Picking ONE dance partner and buffing them specifically makes me feel like a god of war handing out boons to my champion.
In my heart of hearts, all I want to play is a gremlin with a shiv but that's why I'm good at Dancer. I understand those people and will make them the best murderer here.
Go forth my gremlin, my champion, and KILL!
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just-an-enby-lemon · 2 years ago
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One of my biggest Riddler headcannon is that ALL Riddlers are pro-uniom/workers rights. No matter what. Even the versions of him who have no other qualities at all are very pro union and give his employees a fair pay and good health care.
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elsgray · 6 months ago
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route 66 roadtrip summer🍒🎱🚬
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“𝒩𝑜𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓅 𝓂𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓌,𝒷𝑜𝓎 ℐ 𝒷𝑒 𝒻𝓁𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹.”🍒
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acourtofquestions · 1 month ago
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TOWER OF DAWN
MAJOR SPOILERS
Chapters 61-68
+ bonus?-ish one
(Thought I should just put it all in one post cause chapter by chapter quotes don’t work here😅😅😂)
A tomb--and a trove. And at the very back, rising up on a towering dais ... Duva. The khagan's now-youngest daughter. She smiled at them as they approached--and the expression was not human. It was Valg. "Well," said the thing inside the princess, "it certainly took you long enough." The words echoed down the massive chamber, bouncing off stone and gold. Chaol assessed every shadow, every object they passed. All possible weapons. All possible escape routes. Hafiza did not move as they neared, walking down the broad avenue between the endless, glittering gold and sarcophagi. A necropolis. Perhaps one enormous, subterranean city, stretching from the desert to here.
IT WAS DUVA!!!
"Don't," Chaol rasped, the word full of blood. Duva had destroyed it-destroyed everything. From the blood coming out of his mouth, up his throat... Yrene wept, the dagger poised over the princess's neck. He was dying. Duva had ripped open something within him. Duva's brows began to twitch and furrow as she stirred. Now. She had to do it now. Drive this blade in. End it. A life. She had sworn an oath never to take a life. And with this woman before her, the second life in her womb ... The dagger lowered. She'd do it. She'd do it, and-- "Yrene," Chaol breathed, and the word was so full of pain, so quiet ... It was too late. Her magic could feel it, his death. She had never told him of that terrible gift--that healers knew when death sat near. Silba, lady of gentle deaths. The death she would give Duva and her child would not be that sort of death. Chaol's death would not be that sort of death. But she ... But she ... The princess looked so young, even as she stirred. And the life in her womb ... The life before her ... Yrene dropped the knife to the floor. Its clattering echoed over gold and stone and bones. Chaol closed his eyes in what she could have sworn was relief. A light hand touched her shoulder. She knew that touch. Hafiza. But as Yrene looked, as she turned and sobbed-- Two others stood behind the Healer on High. Too much. Too many broken and torn and ravaged things-- His chest was barely rising. He did not open his eyes. "Wake up" she ordered him, her voice breaking. She plunged into her power, but the damage ... It was like trying to patch up holes in a sinking ship. Too much. Too much and-- Shouting and steps all around them. His life began to thin and turn to mist around her magic. Death circled, an eagle with an eye upon them. "Fight it" Yrene sobbed, shaking him. "You stubborn bastard, fight it." What was the point of it, the point of any of it, if now, when it mattered-- "Please," she whispered. Chaol's chest rose, a high note before the last plunge-- She could not endure it. Would not endure it-- A light nickered. Inside that failing mass of red and black. A candle ignited. A bloom of white. Then another. Another. Blooming lights, along that broken interior. And where they shone ... Flesh knitted. Bone smoothed. Light after light after light. His chest continued to rise and fall. Rise and fall. But in the hurt and the dark and the light … A woman's voice that was both familiar and foreign. A voice that was both Hafiza's and ... another. Someone who was not human, never had been. Speaking through Hafiza herself, their voices blending into the blackness. The damage is too great. There must be a cost if it is to be repaired. All those lights seemed to hesitate at that otherworldly voice. Yrene brushed herself along them, waded through them like a field of white flowers, the lights bobbing and swaying in this quiet place of pain. Not lights ... but healers. She knew their lights, their essences. Eretia--that was Eretia closest to her. The voice that was both Hafiza and Other said again, There must be a cost. For what the princess had done to him ... There A living chain of power. All the healers in the Torre, young and old, stood in that room of gold and bone. All connected. All channeling to Yrene, to the grip she still held on Chaol.
And Yrene knew it did not belong to Hafiza or the Other. Did not belong to any healer alive. But to one who had never left her, even when she had been turned into ash on the wind.
The CoM full circle reverse!
A daughter of Fenharrow will pay the debt of a son of Adarlan?
The Other said, You offer this of your own free will? Yes. With my entire heart. It had been his from the start, anyway.
THEN CHAOL THEN THE HEALERS THEN AGH
And where that scar had once sliced down his cheek ... only unmarred skin remained.
But there is always a price
"What was the cost," Chaol rasped. If she'd given up anything, he'd find a way to retrieve it. He didn't care what he had to pay, he'd-- "To keep your life tethered in this world, we had to bind it to another. To hers. Two lives," Hafiza clarified, "now sharing one thread. But even with that," She gestured to his legs, the foot he slid up to brace on the floor. "The demon broke many, many parts of you. Too many. And in order to save most of you, there was a cost, too." Yrene went still. "What do you mean?" Hafiza again looked between them. "There remains some damage to the spine--impacting the lower portions of the legs. That even we could not repair." Chaol glanced between the Healer on High and his legs, currently moving. He went so far as to put some weight on them. They held. Hafiza went on, "With the life-bond between you, Yrene's power flowing into you ... It will act as a brace. Stabilizing the area, granting you ability to use your legs whenever Yrene's magic is at its fullest." He steeled himself for the but. Hafiza smiled grimly. "But when Yrene's power flags, when she is drained or tired, your injury will regain control, and your ability to walk will again be impaired. It will require you to use a cane at the very least--on hard days, perhaps many days, the chair. But the injury to your spine will remain." The words settled in him. Floated through and settled.
is this like Elide & Lorcan?
Good question Yrene I wondered the same thing
"Can't I just heal him again?" She leaned toward him, as if she'd do just that. Hafiza shook her head. "It is part of the balance--the cost. Do not tempt the compassion of the force that granted this to you." But Chaol touched Yrene's hand. "It is no burden, Yrene," he said softly. "To be given this. It is no burden at all." Yet agony filled her face. "But I-" "Using the chair is not a punishment. It is not a prison," he said. "It never was. And I am as much of a man in that chair, or with that cane, as I am standing on my feet." He brushed away the tear that slipped down her cheek. "I wanted to heal you," she breathed. "You did," he said, smiling. "Yrene, in every way that truly matters ... You did."
This arc😭 “in every way that truly matters”
"When it is time, whether the death is kind or cruel ... It will claim you both." Yrene's golden eyes were still lined with silver. But there was no fear in her face, no lingering sorrow--none. "Together," Chaol said quietly, and interlaced their hands. Her strength would be his strength. And when Yrene went, he would go. But if he went before her-- Dread curled in his gut. "The true price of all this," Hafiza said, reading the panic. "Not fear for your own life, but what losing your life will do to the other." "I suggest you not go to war," Eretia grumbled.
Yrene .5 seconds later😂 / the true war at hand
But Yrene shook her head, shoulders straightening as she declared, "We shall go to war.” Pointing to Duva, she looked at Sartaq. As if she had not just offered up her very life to save his--"That is what Erawan will do. To all of you. If we do not go." "I know," Sartaq said quietly. The prince turned to Nesryn, and as she held his stare ... Chaol saw it. The glimmer between them. A bond, new and trembling. But there it was, right along with the cuts and wounds they both bore. "I know," Sartaq said again, his fingers brushing Nesryn's.
This sounds familiar… I KNOW SOULMATES BOND WHEN I SEE THEM/IT FOR BOTH OF THEM
Nesryn met Chaol's eyes then. She smiled softly at him, glancing to where Yrene now asked Hafiza about whether she could stand. He'd never seen Nesryn appear so ... settled. So quietly happy. Chaol swallowed. I'm sorry, he said silently. Nesryn shook her head as Sartaq scooped his sister into his arms with a grunt, the prince balancing his weight on his good leg. I think / did just fine. Chaol smiled. Then I am happy for you. Nesryn's eyes widened as Chaol at last got to his feet, taking Yrene with him. His movements were as smooth as any maneuver he might have made without the invisible brace of Yrene's magic flowing between them. Nesryn wiped away her tears as Chaol closed the distance between them and embraced her tightly. "Thank you," he said in Nesryn's ear. She squeezed him back. "Thank you--for bringing me here. To all of this." To the prince who now looked at Nesryn with a quiet, burning sort of emotion.
This moment😭🫶 HEALING / GROWTH ALL. OF. IT.
Alive, Yrene had said to him. As they walked out of the dark, Chaol at last felt it was true. Sartaq took Duva to the khagan. Called in his brothers and sister. Because Yrene insisted they be there. Chaol and Hafiza insisted they be there.
This bond between them ... She could feel it, almost. Like a living band of cool, silken light flowing from her--into him. And he truly did not seem to mind that a piece of his spine, his nerves, would retain permanent damage for as long as they lived. Yes, he'd now be able to move his legs with limited motion, even when her magic was drained. But standing--never a possibility during those times. She supposed they'd soon learn how and when the level of her power correlated with whether he required cane or chair or neither. But Chaol was right. Whether he stood or limped or sat ... it did not change him. Who he was. She had fallen in love with him well before he'd ever stood. She would love him no matter how he moved through the world.
What if we fight? Yrene had asked him on the trek over here. What then? Chaol had only kissed her temple. We fight all the time already. It'll be nothing new. He'd added, Do you think l'd want to be with anyone who didn't hand my ass to me on a regular basis? But she'd frowned. He'd continued, And this bond between us, Yrene... it changes nothing. With you and me. You'll need your own space; I'll need mine. So if you think for one moment that you're going to get away with flimsy excuses for never leaving my side-- She'd poked him in the ribs. As if I'll want to hang around you all day like some lovesick girl! Chaol had laughed, tucking her in tighter. But Yrene had only patted his arm and said, And I think you can take care of yourself just fine. He'd just kissed her, and that was that.
Out of the dark… they found their Rowaelin🥹 (really the HoF & book parallels are crazy to me)
I am not afraid of you, Yrene said into the dark. And you have nowhere to run.
Her name is Yrene Towers and she is not afraid.
Your world shall fall. As the others have done. As all others will.
This better not be foreshadowing…
No, prince am I, girl. But a princess. And my sisters shall soon find you.
holy shit there’s valg princesses (and they talk like Yoda?) *screams at sky UGH Maeve* PSPS don’t skip this book it’s crucial SIDE NOTE points Chaol😂 We love our fictional husbands just giving a pat on the back for support
“I DIDNT know they could do that… for some reason this chapter brought out the John Mulaney ever since Hasar said Hush”
Lethal--with rage. Not at Yrene, not at Duva, but the man who had sent this to their house. Their family. Duva's face relaxed on an exhaled breath, color blooming on her cheeks. Duva's husband tried to surge for her again, but Yrene stopped him with an upheld hand. Heavy-her hand was so heavy. But she held the young man's panicked stare. Which had not been on his wife's face, but the belly. Yrene nodded to him as if to say, I will look. Then she laid her hands on that round, high womb. Sent her magic probing, dancing along it--the life within. Something new and joyous answered back. Loudly.
POOR DUVA HOW DID NO ONE NOTICE — I MEAN HER HUSBAND & THE ENTIRE MARRIAGE… ow man… not to be that person but seriously??? (and also the sister line broke me TALK ABOUT TRAUMA the poor girl) — THE DAMNED SNEAKY NEW FANCY RING TRICK
P.s. point to the Khagan for switching from his “fight to death children” mantra
And extra spy points to Kadja😂 guess the weird chicken recipes distraction didn’t work🤣
But it did not frustrate him, did not embarrass him. If this was to be his body's natural state for the rest of his life ... it was not a punishment, not at all. He was still thinking that when they reached his suite, mulling over how they might work out a schedule of him fighting in battle with her healing. For he would fight. And if her power was drained, he'd fight then, too. Whether on horseback or in the chair itself. And when Yrene needed to heal, when the magic in her veins summoned her to those killing fields and their bond grew thin ... he'd manage with a cane, or the chair. He would not shrink from it. If he survived the battle. The war. If they survived.
Y’all better survive after the EoS ending I can’t handle anymore of that
MAEVE IS THE VALG QUEEN!!!
Still not over that😅😅😬 possibly the biggest plot twist/name drop of the series? Like Aelin I expected BUT THAT
"That explains why the Fae healers might have fled, too," Yrene murmured when Nesryn fell silent. "Why Maeve's own healer compound lies on the border with the mortal world. Perhaps not so they can have access to humans who need care... but as a border patrol against the Valg, should they ever try to encroach her territory." How close the Valg had unwittingly come when Aelin had fought those princes in Wendlyn. "It also explains why Aelin reported an owl at Maeve's side when they first met," Nesryn said, gesturing to Yrene, whose brows bunched. Then Yrene blurted, "The owl must be the Fae form of a healer. Some healer of hers that she keeps close--as a bodyguard. Has let everyone believe to be some pet ..."
I KNEW IT
"The demon told me it was not a Valg prince... but a princess." Silence. Until Nesryn said, "The spider. It claimed the Valg kings had sons and daughters. Princes and princesses." Chaol swore. No, his legs would not be able to function anytime soon, with or without Yrene's slowly refilling well of power. "We're going to need a Fire-Bringer, it seems," he said. And to translate the books Hafiza said she would gladly hand over to their cause. Nesryn chewed on her lip. "Aelin now sails north to Terrasen, an armada with her. The witches as well." "Or just the Thirteen," Chaol countered. "The reports were murky. It might not even be Manon Blackbeak's coven, actually." "It is," Nesryn said. "I'd bet everything on it."
NO SHES NOT AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH WE NEED A FIRE BRINGER BUT YALL GOTTA GO GET HER LIKE RIGHT FRIGGIN NOW THIS IS KILLING ME AGHHHHHHHSAVANKWWIRHRBD
But yes keep calm and trust in Manon & THE 13
Okay yeah Yrene can heal them and now Nesryns got a ruk ITS ALL GONNA BE FINE (it all better be fine)
Nesryn The Empress has a nice ring to it don’t ya think
Now we’re really like Heir of Fire only it’s Nesryn Heir of the Southern Continent
The world he laid at her feet. She trembled at it. What he so freely gave. Not the empire and crown, but ... the life. His heart. Nesryn wondered if he knew her heart had been his from that very first ride atop Kadara. Sartaq smiled as if to say yes, he had. So she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. It was tentative, and soft, and full of wonder, that kiss. He tasted like the wind, like a mountain spring. He tasted like home. Nesryn clasped his face in her hands as she pulled back. "To war, Sartaq," she breathed, memorizing every line of his face. "And then we'll see what comes after." Sartaq gave her a knowing, cocky grin. As if he'd fully decided what would come after and nothing she could say would ever convince him otherwise. And from the courtyard just a wall away, her sister shouted, loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear, "I told you, Father!"
I’m so happy to see her happy and her family and her see her family🥹 I NEEDED THIS😭 & THE HOME QUOTE (again Rowaelin much?😉😘🫶)
Home. They were to sail home today.
Home🥹😭
"I wish I had never said a word to you on the steppes that night." Yrene began to shake her head, unsure of what to even say. "I have missed having you--as my friend," Kashin went on. "I do not have many of them." "I know," she managed to get out. And then added, "I missed having you as my friend, too." For she had. And what he was now willing to do for her, her people ... She took Kashin's hand. Squeezed it. There was still pain in his eyes, limning his handsome face, but ... understanding. And a clear, undaunted gleam as he beheld the northern horizon. The prince squeezed her hand in return. "Thank you again--for Duva." A small smile toward that northern skv. "We shall meet again, Yrene Towers. I am certain of it."
Props to Kashin & also hopeful foreshadowing for once (& no one better die when they meet again)
She smiled back at him, beyond words. But Kashin winked, pulling his hand from hers. "My sulde still blows northward. Who knows what I may find on the road ahead? Especially now that Sartaq has the burden of being Heir, and I'm free to do as I please." The city had been in an uproar about it. Celebrating, debating--it still raged on. What the other royal siblings thought, Yrene did not know, but ... there was peace in Kashin's eyes. And in the eyes of the others, when Yrene had seen them. And part of her indeed wondered if Sartaq had struck some unspoken agreement that went beyond Never Duva. To perhaps even Never Us. Yrene had smiled again at the prince--at her friend. "Thank you, for all your kindness."
beyond words “Never Duva. Never us.” never again
Even in the early morning, the tower was a beacon, a jutting lance of hope and calm. She wondered if she would ever see it again. For what lay ahead of them ... Yrene braced her hands on the rail as another gust of wind rocked the ship. A wind from inland, as if all thirty-six gods of Antica blew a collective breath to send them skittering home. Across the Narrow Sea--and to war. The ship began to move at last, the world a riot of action and color and sound, but Yrene remained at the rail. Watching the city grow smaller and smaller. And even when the coast was little more than a shadow, Yrene could have sworn she still saw the Torre standing above it, glinting white in the sun, as if it were an arm upraised in farewell.
So many HoF parallels (also the Tower at Dawn imagery *chefs kiss* PERFECTION)
Never for granted😭
The way we went from the EoS ship bonus sneak peek to here & soon to be KoA
Also is it the same storm?
"Watching the horizon won't get us there any faster," he murmured onto her neck. "Neither will teasing your wife about it." Chaol smiled against her skin. "How else am I to amuse myself during the long hours than by teasing you, Lady Westfall?" she snorted, as she always did at the title. But Chaol had never heard anything finer--other than the vows they'd spoken in Silba's temple at the Torre two and a halt weeks ago. The ceremony had been small, but Hasar had insisted on a feast afterward that put to shame all the others they'd had in the palace. The princess might have been many things, but she certainly knew how to throw a party.
No longer Yrene Towers--but Yrene Westfall.
WHERES MY WIFE VS LADY WESTFALL I CANT decide if I’m healed or more broken … also the way we went from Lord Westfall “it’s Chaol” to this🥹
Gods help him when Hasar and Aedion met.
This better happen cause now I can’t wait😂
Hellas Horse “Butterfly”
New fav character😂👏
She smiled down at the locket, the silver near-blinding in the midday sun. "I suppose I don't need my little note any longer." "Why?" "Because I am not alone," she said, running her fingers over the metal. "And because I found my courage." He kissed her cheek, but said nothing as she opened the locket and carefully removed the browned scrap. The wind tried to rip it from her fingers, but Yrene held tight, unfolding the slender fragment. She scanned the text she'd read a thousand times. "I wonder if she'll return for this war. Whoever she was. She spoke of the empire like…" Yrene shook her head, more to herself, and folded it shut again. "Perhaps she will come home to fight, from wherever she sailed off to." She offered him the piece of paper and turned away to the sea ahead. Chaol took the scrap from Yrene, the paper velvet-soft from its countless readings and foldings and how she'd held it in her pocket, clutched it, all these years. He unfolded the note and read the words he already knew were within: For wherever you need to go--and then some. The world needs more healers. The waves quieted. The ship itself seemed to pause. Chaol glanced to Yrene, smiling serenely at the sea, then to the note. To the handwriting he knew as well as his own.
The fact that he knew her handwriting — Forgiveness can you imagine? 😭 — & THE story
For wherever you need to go--and then some. The world needs more healers. There, in her handwriting ... Chaol looked up at last, blinking away tears as he scanned his wife's face. Every beautiful line, those golden eyes. A gift. A gift from a queen who had seen another woman in hell and thought to reach back a hand. With no thought of it ever being returned. A moment of kindness, a tug on a thread ... And even Aelin could not have known that in saving a barmaid from those mercenaries, in teaching her to defend herself, in giving her that gold and this note ... Even Aelin could not have known or dreamed or guessed how that moment of kindness would be answered. Not just by a healer blessed by Silba herself, capable of wiping the Valg away. But by the three hundred healers who had come with her. The three hundred healers from the Torre, now spread across the one thousand ships of the khagan himself. A favor, Yrene had asked of the man in return for saving his most beloved daughter. Anything, the khagan had promised. Yrene had knelt before the khagan. Save my people. That was all she asked. All she had begged. Save my people. So the khagan had answered.
The way it all weaves together like SO YOUR TELLING ME ALL OF IT🥹😭 once upon a time there was a princess who loved her kingdom very much *gonna go sob now*
Chaol folded the note along its well-worn lines and carefully set it back within Yrene's locket. "Keep it a while longer," he said softly. "I think there's someone who will want to see that." Yrene's eyes filled with surprise and curiosity, but she asked nothing as Chaol again slid his arms around her and held her tightly. Every step, all of it, had led here. From that keep in the snow-blasted mountains where a man with a face as hard as the rock around them had thrown him into the cold; to that salt mine in Endovier, where an assassin with eyes like wildfire had smirked at him, unbroken despite a year in hell. An assassin who had found his wife, or they had found each other, two gods-blessed women wandering the shadowed ruins of the world. And who now held the fate of it between them. Every step. Every curve into darkness. Every moment of despair and rage and pain. It had led him to precisely where he needed to be. Where he wanted to be. A moment of kindness. From a young woman who ended lives to a young woman who saved them.
The unwritten Captain and The Assassin bonus is complete😭 … I cannot wait for Aelin to read that (I’m gonna need it) “a moment of kindness”
He did not regret. He did not look back. Not with Yrene in his arms, at his side. Not with the note she carried, that bit of proof... that bit of proof that he was exactly where he was meant to be. That he had always been headed there. Here. "Will I ever hear an explanation for this dramatic reaction," Yrene said at last, clicking her tongue, "or are you just going to kiss me for the rest of the day?" Chaol rumbled a laugh. "It's a long story." He slung an arm around her waist and stared out toward the horizon with her. "And you might want to sit down first." "Those are my favorite kinds," she said, winking. Chaol laughed again, feeling the sound in every part of him, letting it ring clear and bright as a bell. A final, joyous pealing before the storm of war swept in. "Come on," he said to Yrene, nodding to the soldiers working alongside Hasar's men to keep the ships sailing swiftly for the north--to battle and bloodshed. "I'll tell you over lunch." Yrene rose onto her toes to kiss him before he led them toward their spacious stateroom. "This story of yours had better be worth it," she said with a wry grin. Chaol smiled back at his wife, at the light he'd unknowingly walked toward his entire life, even when he had not been able to see it. "It is," he said quietly to Yrene. "It is."
The most beautiful scene which is needed pre bonus chapter😭
Fireheart
😭😵🫥☠️💔🖤
Don’t even get me started on that final piece KILL ME NOW SARAH OH WAIT YOU ALREADY DID
They had entombed her in darkness and iron. She slept, for they had forced her to--had wafted curling, sweet smoke through the cleverly hidden airholes in the slab of iron above. Around. Beneath. A coffin built by an ancient queen to trap the sun inside.
To trap the sun inside… she’s the sun… crying again
Draped with iron, encased in it, she slept. Dreamed. Drifted through seas, through darkness, through fire. A princess of nothing. Nameless.
“Nameless is my price”
The princess sang to the darkness, to the flame. And they sang back. There was no beginning or end or middle. Only the song, and the sea, and the iron sarcophagus that had become her bower. Until they were gone. Until blinding light flooded the slumbering, warm dark. Until the wind swept in, crisp and scented with rain. She could not feel it on her face. Not with the death-mask still chained to it. Her eyes cracked open. The light burned away all shape and color after so long in the dim depths. But a face appeared before her--above her. Peering over the lid that had been hauled aside. Dark, flowing hair. Moon-pale skin. Lips as red as blood. The ancient queen's mouth parted in a smile. Teeth as white as bone. "You're awake. Good." Lovely and cold, it was a voice that could devour the stars. From somewhere, from the blinding light, rough and scar-flecked hands reached into the coffin. Grasped the chains binding her. The queen's huntsman; the queen's blade.
The huntsman… Sarah don’t go getting all fairytale Grimm on me again now
He hauled the princess upright, her body a distant, aching thing. She did not want to slide back into this body. Struggled against it, clawing for the flame and the darkness that now ebbed away from her like a morning tide. But the huntsman yanked her closer to that cruel, beautiful face watching with a spider's smile. And he held her still as that ancient queen purred, "Let's begin."
WHAT DO YOU MEAN ENDING IT LIKE THAT
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loveydive · 4 months ago
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lucretia madoka kdj i GOBBLE THEM ALL UP
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addictedgallery · 6 months ago
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Get Your Art Fix!
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"She is a flower, But she isn't soft, When her petals fall, They hit like bullets." ~ Unknown "Retro Retreat, Femme Fatale At The Dive" by Formento & Formento, 2023
Series: Nostalgia - Art In Progress
Arty-Fact: "Richeille and I are taking a few years to explore sentimental longing, feelings of pleasure and the wistful affection we have for the past or place. We salvage artifacts of the past for entertainment, to calm present anxieties. We discuss the present in terms of the past, and we judge the present by the standards of long ago. Discussions of movies and television and music tend to begin with the question, “Remember when?” Those words summon happy thoughts. Or perhaps we return to the past because we are expert in it. Nostalgia waxes as the traditional understanding of time wanes. Human beings are temporal creatures. We need ways to understand and to order the past, the present, and the future. Nostalgia, most truly and most meaningfully, is the emotional experience—always momentary, always fragile—of having what you lost or never had, of seeing what you missed seeing, of meeting the people you missed knowing.
"Are we nostalgic because we are unhappy with the present or are frustrated because we are so nostalgic? Through art we hope to unearth these fleeting feelings that overcome us, and to create work that connects us." ~ Formento & Formento
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See It On Your Wall
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mouseandboo · 2 years ago
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Postcrossing US-9182030 by Gail Anderson Via Flickr: Postcard with a photo of a bar in the ghost town of Texola, Oklahoma at sunset. Texola is on the famous Route 66. Sent to a Postcrossing member in China.
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bonefarm · 2 years ago
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The notes on a recent post got me thinking
By nature, I’m a fan of having 2 beers and meeting strangers at a bar somewhere you’ve never been, which is a thing that we don’t do in 2023 between COVID and being afraid of one another because of the prevalence of gun violence and regular violence and misdirected road rage and the million other little deadly social erosions of the past 10 years or so.
You have got to let go of this idea that any place is a complete nothing-burger full of nothing-people.
You have to.
Its vitally important that you navigate that airport with a stranger in Denver and realize he’s got a tattoo of lyrics from your favorite song. To sing House of the Rising Sun with four people you’ve known for 2 hours (and somehow managed to get into the DNCs private bar with) in the back of an Uber in DC when it’s pissing rain and entirely too cold for your southern blood. It’s important to cooperate and solve problems together and go about it laughing and singing. We are silly little creatures that love a puzzle and a story.
It’s also important to flee a tornado in the back of a shitty red pickup at pride in Oklahoma City and feel the sky break wide-open against the lazy /tick-lok/ /tick-lok/ of the windshield wipers while racing down what once was Rte 66. Its important to know that in the face of creeping fascism that place, of all places, has entire gay neighborhoods. It’s important to wake up in an apartment high, high up in NYC and watch the sun through the buildings and boulevards and watch the glorious great goddamn of that impossible number of people all cooperating and all not. To say Hyoo-stun, that way, on purpose just to get a rise of your born and bred NY friend who does NOT think you’re funny but will make coffee for you.
You need to see a beach full of people cautiously approaching and flinching away from a floating, dead horseshoe crab on Tybee Island, Georgia the way any troupe of wild animals approaches an unknown alien thing. Cows in a field, fish in the ocean flinching from a diver. Little children squealing and wide eyed behind their parents legs. You need to be the person that walks out and picks it up and watches the rest of the crowd creep in to investigate.
I don’t get to travel a lot in the way that most people do, when I go to a place it’s usually because something bad has happened there, but I have found it universally true that most people just want to tell you a story or show you a picture on their phone of the craziest thing they’ve ever seen and they don’t particularly care who you are or what your accent is. Sometimes they do, and those people suck, but those people are not the majority.
Sometimes if you let an old redneck talk he’ll tell you everything you never wanted to know about forensic accounting. Sometimes you’ll meet someone in the middle of the biggest city in the US who knows everything about show pigs. I’ve been to the smallest Kansas towns and the biggest cities in the US and I’ve found none of them were full of nothing.
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tommy115 · 2 years ago
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12月10日はラガヨウ主催 Ride on time です。 ★アニバーサリー★ 是非遊びに来てね。 ワイワイできるようになってよかったよなー。 ラガヨウより 12/10(土) [ イってみようohh★RIDE ON TIME ] 下北沢のレゲエBARドラソンこと『drum song』での66回目『RIDE ON TIME』7周年です!!!!!!!!!!!! ノリと勢いだけで当時24才だった若造が溢れるレゲエ愛とシモキタ愛とドラソン愛だけで始めたダンスですがあっという間の7周年です🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 こんな日もあんな日もありましたが、全てがかけがえのない大切な僕の宝物です!!!!! これから8年目も、これから10年、20年、40年後も子供に引き継ぐまで大好き���シモキタでドラソンで続けていきますので皆さん祝いに、笑いに、唄いに、踊りに、年���気分にワイワイ遊び是非ともお越しください!!!!!⤴︎⤴︎⤴︎⤴︎⤴︎ #7周年 #みなさんのおかげです #出逢えた皆に心からありがとう #ギフト #respectyou #言えなかったありがとう #みんな大好き #出禁になった人はたった一人だけwwwww #第66回 #下北沢 #シモキタ #ドラムソング #ドラソン #drumsong #reggae #レゲエ #bar #irie #アナログ #レコード #RideOnTime #ライドン #時流に乗れ #乗り遅れるな #makemyday #daybyday #駆け抜けろホームまで #onestepforward ◆SKA ◆ROCKSTEADY ◆ROOTS ◆LOVERSROCK ◆DANCEHALL ◆SOUL ◆R&B ◆ROCK ◆etc ◎イベント時間/18:00~24:00 ▲出入り自由 ◎料金/1st. ドリンク 1,000円・2nd~ドリンク500円 drum song 東京都 世田谷区北沢2-19-13 第一周和ビル3F 03-3487-0718(土) = Live= ☆★ Tommy115 ☆★ET-man ☆★ 日比野裕之 = Selector= ☆★ RAGGA-YO ☆★ Takuya ☆★ 赤羽レゲエ組合 ☆★Hirocapone ☆★igarashi ☆★Michikazu Sakata ☆★ T-SOUND ☆★ れげえおじさん ☆★ elektloose ☆★ SAM ☆★ エピックのぶ https://www.instagram.com/p/ClpSPQiSr7M/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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marzipanandminutiae · 29 days ago
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I don't know if Lizzie Borden did or didn't Do It, but what matters more is what she did afterwards:
moved to a grand house with her sister and had intense, Ambiguously Gay friendships with actresses until her death at age 66
there's a terrible slasher film called Lizzie Borden's Revenge and I'm like. revenge for WHAT. what about the entire rest of her life could possibly leave her feeling in need of vengeance. barring local notoriety and the emotional toll thereof, the rest of her life was excellent
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