#From A Dying Ember

[motordyk]

!!! CEASEFIRE NOW !!! its been a full year and the us government has done nothing to help those in need. if you wish to do what your government will not, here are some people who have reached out to me that are calling for help

https://gofund.me/70501154 - Karim Rasha (4.4e/50e) https://gofund.me/841fae47 - Nour and Kinda (14sek/500sek) https://gofund.me/e6cd83a9 - Mounes Al-Kafarna ($1.9k/$20k)

CEASEFIRE 🍉 CEASEFIRE 🇵🇸 CEASEFIRE 🕊

[lotrmusical]

My high school did a yearly poetry recitation contest (Poetry Out Loud), so Oh Boy do I know some poems. My favorites are Ozymandias and "the world is about to end and my grandparents are in love," by Kara Jackson. Also in 8th grade we had a Poe unit and had a class contest to make the best music video of the Raven, so I still know a good chunk of that.

i hadn't heard of the kara jackson one! just read through it and enjoyed it, particularly these lines > 'grandma returns to her love like a hymn, marks it with a color. // when the world ends will it suck the earth of all its love? /will i go taking somebody’s hand, / my skin becoming their skin?'

[blackwood4stucky]

WIP Game ♡

rules: you will be given a word. share one sentence / excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

Tagged by @gyokujyn 🩶

My word is TWIST

Snippets below the cut...

T - snippet from do you trust me with your scars enough to show me your heart (chapter 2)

The moon was quite full as he gazed into the sky. It was weird though. There was a peculiar crimson tint to that ball of light. It was in this moonlight that his skin seemed to itch less and that the burning decreased to a simmer. He became aware of that beloved aroma of peaches and spiced rum then. It made him turn toward the apartment across the way. He could see through the glass of an open window and into a room that almost mirrored his own. In it was Bucky lying prone on his bed looking directly at him. There was glimmer in his eyes that had Steve tripping over his feet to get across the space between them. He knew that look. Never had he been so grateful for the apartment between his and Bucky’s. It was just high enough that he could use it cross the distance whenever he felt the urge to visit with Bucky. He felt that urge often. He only used the front door to be respectful of his best friend’s parents. The simmer beneath his skin, that was steadily building at the look in Bucky’s eyes, had him caring very little about the proper way of doing things now.           With the crimson light shining down on him from the moon, Steve stole across the distance that separated him from his Bucky. He crept through the window and almost groaned at the overwhelming scent that made up Bucky in bloom. Taking in his surroundings, he noticed the bowl of bone broth sitting on the bedside table. The low whines coming from the bed are what made him scramble over. “Stevie.” Bucky’s voice was reedy with want.

W - this is an untitled fic that came to me while working on venom!steve

What if the asset kidnaps Steve during the great search for Bucky Barnes...

That's all I've got on that so far lmfao

I - snippet from those that live between sunset and moonrise from the blade of nightshade, be my strength not my ruin series

          “I’m sorry, what were you saying?” The sound of the vampire’s chuckles scent shivers down his spine, Bucky valiantly tried to keep his body from betraying him but failed. He could only be grateful that the blond didn’t comment on it.           “I asked if you were all right.” The vampire was still clutching his hand. The way those cool fingers felt lightly caressing the burns caused even more slick to leak into his pants. Bucky was too outdone with his body’s responses. Never has he ever had such a strong reaction like this to anyone. “That seems like quite the burn.”           “It— it doesn’t hurt too bad,” Bucky said, internally berating himself for stuttering.            “So, Dr. Barnes—           “How do you know my name?” He questioned the vampire, hastily stepping back only to collide with the table, dropping his bag in the process.           “You’re wearing your Isipho Industries badge,” the blond said steadying him. “I’ve got to say, I’m surprised to see they hired anyone on, are you new?”           “Hardly,” Bucky scoffed as he put more space between the two of them, the tome in his bag momentarily forgotten on the ground. “I’ve been working at II for about a few years now.”           “Ahh, I must be out of touch then. I recently moved back to the city and haven’t really caught up on any affairs from the professional world just yet.”           “You live here too?”           A wry grin pulled at the corners of Steve’s lips as he nodded. “Yeah, I’m in Flatbush.”           “Oh,” Bucky smiled nervously in return. “I’m over there too.”           Steve hummed in surprised. “I’m really intrigued now, an omega witch in Flatbush. A scientist at II no less. They’re such an exclusive company, one of my colleagues applied for a position but was turned down in favor for someone else.”           “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Did they find another job?” Bucky asked.           “They did, and they’re very happy at Pym Tech.”           “That’s good then.” Bucky looked past his vampire companion to see Jack eyeing the two of them suspiciously and sighed. Jack was a nosy sonovabitch and he wouldn’t put it past the guy to say anything to the coven about what he saw today. The last thing he needed was a chance meeting with a random vampire out in the open to be hot gossip straight off the press.           “I was wondering, would you mind indulging my curiosity by joining me for lunch?”           Bucky was taken aback by the question. He couldn’t quite believe that a vampire was asking a witch out like this. It was unheard of, and in public no less. It was against certain outdated rules that he didn’t bother to heed, but definitely didn’t think he would have a chance to break. The smile that graced the blond’s features wasn’t menacing but it did promise many things that the slick pooling in his underwear and his omega hindbrain definitely liked the idea of. He could even see a hint of sharp teeth as they peeked from the vampire’s lips.           “I have plans, sorry.” He looked down at his watch and thanked his lucky stars that his lunch break truly was nearly over. “I’m late for them now, actually. If you’ll excuse me.”           He was about to reach down and pick up the tome when the vampire beat him to it. The blonde handed it to him and, for a moment, their hands touched. Looking up, he could see the blond tense his jaw before putting his hand in his pocket. Bucky could have sworn that he saw something on the vampire’s palm and quirked his brow in question. Before he could attempt to ask, the blond produced a business card. It read Dr. Steven Grant Rogers with an impressive list of letters behind his name.           “I’ll see you around, Dr. Barnes.”

S - snippet from the burning embers of a dying world series prequel aka stucky dune au

Steve stands at the cliff’s edge, witnessing the ships rising from the crystalline waters of Vanaheim and into the starry skies, he can’t help but think of a time when life was much simpler.

T - snippet of from what i've tasted of desire, i hold with those who play with fire aka dark twilight x stucky au

The sensation of his stomach swooping as the plane begins its descent pulls Bucky’s attention away from the open window and onto the filled page. The drawing etched onto the parchment had been transformed into the likeness of the fine line tattoo inked onto his skin. Delicate strokes mimic the lace of a garter belt. Harsh segments and bold shading depict the tale of a blade carved from bone, gifted to him by his bunǎ. It’s the barely there shadows below a cross and beads that remind him of rosaries. Bucky doesn’t understand his own fascination with them but he has drawn them ever since he can remember. It was only fitting that he had them memorialized on his flesh.

The excerpt is inspired by this photo. "Bunǎ" is grandmother in Romanian.

no pressure tags: @ellethespaceunicorn

Your word is DARK

[theyellowhue]

We are not talking about how i spent 6 hours rewatching the LITA special episode and just post dumping in this hellsite.

We are not talking about how i'm still currently rewatching LITA's special episode and will probably continue to dump post a shitton in his hellsite.

You have been warned. This is your cue to block me because i will not speak of anything else other than the LITA special episode.

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

the sacred 28 is peak jkr tbh. We learn nothing about progress or how things changed for halfbloods, muggleborns, squibs, etc, but years after the series ends we get more pureblood focus, like why did this even need to exist beyond her racism huh?

Sorry anon, I don't know if you were expecting solidarity or agreement from me, but I...don't really have any to offer.

...Really? We're going to presume she's a blood purist in her real life politics because she added a bit of in-universe world-building to her cash cow like, ten years ago? (I mean...she might be, but this isn't proof.) It is not surprising that the Pureblood Directory exists. Nor is it proof of anything. I actually think it's kind of neat. I like that we don't know who wrote it. That it has inconsistencies and flaws. I am not remotely surprised that such a piece was published in this world. And I'm not going to assume anything about the author based on this update because...honestly, that's nuts.

Trying to guess a writer's real life politics based on the nuances they include in the sub-creationist fantasy world they craft is...a losing game.

I don't know why the fandom feels the need to keep doing this. Not saying this is you, anon (though you kind of give that impression) but some of the HP fans (or "former fans" if you like) are fixated on dissecting the book and trying to find traces of the person Rowling is now in a narrative she wrote twenty years ago. You guys really don't need to keep inventing new reasons to hate her when there's perfectly good transphobia already out in the open. Transphobia that she keeps doubling down on.

Gotta be honest...I don't think this is helping. Criticize her for her actual bigotry and the damage she's causing, sure. But people will choose to focus on the books "supporting slavery" through the House Elves or featuring a "trans stereotype" with Rita Skeeter...all of it feels like people are reaching. No, the series isn't homophobic just because Dumbledore's sexuality could have been handled better. It isn't racist just because Cho Chang has two last names. (This is just a side note but she's not explicitly Chinese...or even explicitly Asian. They never confirm her race in the text. I mean, it's pretty clear that she is, I'm just saying.)

We don't need to waste time on this stuff. Rowling is actually hurting people with bigotry that she actually believes in. Let's focus on that instead of trying to piece together a dossier about how she was "always" awful. I honestly don't think that's the case, but it doesn't matter anyway. When I see posts like these, it frankly just comes across as people who have been burned by Rowling trying to "ruin" Harry Potter for the allies who still feel a connection to the series...if so, that's not going to work, and there are productive things you can do. Follow Daniel Radcliffe's example, he is slaying as a human being.

[spearxwind]

Have a kind Winter solstice, everyone

[aroaessidhe]

2022 reads // twitter thread      

The Life Giver

YA stand-alone high fantasy in a dystopian underground city

a scribe who records prophecies from his dreamer, who talks to the sun (their god) each night

the dreamers are being picked off one by one by something dangerous and unexplained in the dreams

no romance

[figthefruitfaeth]

Hurt - Nine Inch Nails (Bardcore | Medieval Style Cover)

anyway the party’s tiefling bard, eddie, playing this on the eve of the battle against Vecna

[taming-hellfire]

@lepiidopterophobia -- from here

Many thoughts run through his head as he lowers into a bow of apology, not the least of which being 'I'm surprised she hasn't simply killed me yet'. He's used to conversation partners of her calibre having a much lighter temper.

"Not throwing stones, just making an observation," He straightens back up as he speaks. "And, of course, I am not truly alive either, as any good Lightbearer is. I thought you would appreciate the cryptic statement." His smile is genuine enough. "Was I incorrect?"

She was right, of course- starting a fight wouldn't do him well here. Maybe banter wasn't a good play, either- but to know the winning strategy, you have to test it first.

[dragpinkman]

ive changed the fish i want (eventually

[motordyk]

i need all of you to look at him. look at this fool

[acourtofquestions]

🚨 SPOILERS🚨

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 50

Rowan's hands tightened on Aelin's shoulders as the words settled into her, hollow and cold.

"Maeve is a Valg queen?" he breathed.

Aelin said nothing. Couldn't find the words. Her power roiled. She didn't feel it.

Nesryn nodded solemnly. "Yes. The kharankui told us the entire history."

And so Nesryn did as well. Of how Maeve had somehow found a way into this world, fleeing or bored with her husband, Orcus. Erawan's elder brother. Of how Erawan, Orcus, and Mantyx had torn apart worlds to find her, Orcus's missing wife, and only halted here because the Fae had risen to challenge them. Fae led by Maeve, whom the Valg kings did not know or recognize, in the form she had taken.

The life she had crafted for herself. The minds of all the Fae who had existed that she had ripped into, convincing them that there had been three queens, not two. Including the minds of Mab and Mora, the two sister-queens who had ruled Doranelle. Including Brannon himself.

"The spiders claimed," Nesryn went on, "that even Brannon didn't know. Even now, in the Afterworld, he doesn't know. That was how deep Maeve's powers went into his mind, into all their minds. She made herself their true queen."

The words, the truth, pelted Aelin, one after another.

Elide's face was white as death. "But she fears the healers." A nod toward Yrene. "She keeps that owl, you said—an enslaved Fae healer-should the Valg ever discover her." For that was the other piece of it. The other thing Nesryn had revealed, Chaol and Yrene adding in their own accounts. The Valg were parasites. And Yrene could cure their human hosts of them. Had done so for Princess Duva. And might be able to do with so many others enslaved with rings or collars. But what had infested Duva ... A Valg princess.

Aelin leaned back into her chair, her head resting against the solid wall of Rowan's body.

His hands shook against her shoulders. Shook as he seemed to realize what, exactly, had ripped into his mind. Where Maeve's power had come from that allowed her to do so. Why she remained deathless and ageless, and had outlasted any other. Why Maeve's power was darkness.

"It is also why she fears fire," Sartaq said, jerking his chin to Aelin. "Why she fears you so."

And why she'd wanted to break her. To be just like that enslaved healer bound in owl form at her side.

"I thought—I managed to cut her once," Aelin said at last. That quiet, ancient darkness pushed in, dragging her down, down, down-" I saw her blood flow black. Then it changed to red." She blew out a breath, pulling out of the darkness, the silence that wanted to devour her whole. Made herself straighten. Peer at Fenrys.

"You said that her blood tasted ordinary to you when you swore the oath." The white wolf shifted back into his Fae body. His bronze skin was ashen, his dark eyes swimming with dread. "It did."

Rowan growled, "It didn't taste any different to me, either."

"A glamour-like the form she maintains," Gavriel mused.

Nesryn nodded. "From what the spiders said, it seems entirely possible that she would be able to convince you that her blood looked and tasted like Fae blood."

Fenrys made a sound like he was going to be sick. Aelin was inclined to do the same.

And from far away—a memory-that-was-not-a-memory stirred. Of summer nights spent in a forest glen, Maeve instructing her. Telling her a story about a queen who walked between worlds.

Who had not been content in the realm in which she'd been born, and had found a way to leave it, using the lost knowledge of ancient wayfarers. World-walkers.

Maeve had told her. Perhaps a skewed, biased tale, but she'd told her. Why? Why do it at all? Some way to win her-or to make her hesitate, should it ever come to this?

"But Maeve hates the Valg kings," Elide said, and even from the silent, drifting place to which Aelin had gone, she could see the razor-sharp mind churning behind Elide's eyes. "She's hidden for this long. Surely she wouldn't ally with them."

"She ran at the chance to get hold of a Valg collar," Fenrys said darkly. "Seemed convinced that she could control the prince inside it."

Not only through Maeve's power, but because she was a demon queen.

Aelin forced herself to take another breath. Another. Her fingers curled, gripping an invisible weapon.

Lorcan had not uttered a word. Had done nothing but stand there, pale and silent. As if he'd stopped being in his body, too.

"We don't know her plans," Nesryn said.

"The kharankui have not seen her for millennia, and only hear whisperings carried by lesser spiders. But they still worship her, and wait for her return."

Chaol met Aelin's stare, his gaze questioning.

Aelin said quietly, "I was Maeve's prisoner for two months."

Utter silence in the tent. Then she explained—all of it. Why she was not in Terrasen, who now fought there, where Dorian and Manon had gone.

Aelin swallowed as she finished, leaning into Rowan's touch. "Maeve wished me to reveal the location of the two Wyrdkeys. Wanted me to hand them over, but I managed to get them away before she took me. To Doranelle. She wanted to break me to her will. To use me to conquer the world, I thought. But it perhaps now seems she wanted to use me as a shield against the Valg, to guard her always." The words tumbled out, heavy and sharp. "I was her captive until nearly a month ago." She nodded toward her court. "When I got free, they found me again."

Silence fell again, her new companions at a loss. She didn't blame them.

Then Hasar hissed, "We'll make the bitch pay for that, too, won't we?"

Aelin met the princess's dark stare. "Yes, we will."

A Valg queen.

That's who had held his Fireheart. What sort of power had tried to break into her mind.

What power had broken into Rowan's mind.

All their minds, if she could glamour her blood to look and taste ordinary.

He felt the tension rising in Aelin, a raging storm that nearly hummed into his hands as he gripped her shoulders.

Yet her flames made no appearance. They hadn't shown so much as an ember these weeks, despite how hard they'd trained. Occasionally, he'd spy Goldryn's ruby gleaming while she held it, as if fire glowed in the heart of the stone. But nothing more. Not even when they'd tangled in their bed on the ship, when his teeth had found that mark on her neck.

Elide surveyed them all, their silence, and said to their new companions, "Perhaps we should determine a plan of action regarding tomorrow's battle." And give them time, later tonight, to sort through this colossal mess.

Chaol nodded. "We brought a trunk of books with us," he said to Aelin. "From the Torre. They're all full of Wyrdmarks." Aelin didn't so much as blink, but Chaol finished, "If we get through this battle, they're yours to peruse. In case there's anything in them that might help." Against Erawan, against Maeve, against his mate's terrible fate. Aelin just vaguely nodded.

So Rowan forced himself to shove away the shock and disgust and fear, and focus upon the plan ahead. Only Gavriel seemed able to do the same, Fenrys staying where he was, and Lorcan just staring and staring at nothing.

Aelin remained in her chair, simmering.

Roiling.

They planned it quickly and efficiently: they would return with Chaol and Yrene to the keep, to help with the fighting tomorrow. The khaganate royals would push from here, Nesryn and Prince Sartaq leading the ruks, and Princess Hasar commanding the foot soldiers and Darghan cavalry. A brilliantly trained, lethal group. Rowan had already marked the Darghan soldiers, with their fine horses and armor, their spears and crested helmets, while they'd strode for this tent, and breathed a sigh of relief at their skill. Perhaps the last sigh of relief he'd have in this war. Certainly if the khagan's forces hadn't yet decided where they would take this army afterward. He supposed it was fair-so many territories were now in Morath's path-but when this battle was over, he'd make damn sure they marched northward. To Terrasen.

But tomorrow-tomorrow they'd hammer Morath's legion against the keep walls, Chaol and Rowan leading the men from inside, picking off enemy soldiers.

Aelin didn't volunteer to do anything. Didn't indicate that she'd heard them.

And when they'd all deemed the plan sound, along with a contingency plan should it go awry, Nesryn only said, "We'll find you ruks to carry you back to the keep," before Aelin stormed into the frigid night, Rowan barely keeping up with her.

No embers trailed her. Mud did not hiss beneath her boots.

There was no fire at all. Not a spark.

As if Maeve had snuffed out that flame.

Made her fear it.

Hate it.

Aelin cut through the neatly organized tents, past horses and their armored riders, past foot soldiers around campfires, past the ruk riders and their mighty birds, who filled him with such awe he had no words for it. All the way to the eastern edge of the camp and the plains that stretched past, the space wide and hollow after the closeness of the army.

She didn't stop until she reached a stream they'd crossed only hours ago. It was nearly frozen over, but a stomp of her boot had the ice cracking. Breaking free to reveal dark water kissed with silvery starlight.

Then she fell to her knees and drank.

Drank and drank, cupping the water to her mouth. It had to be cold enough to burn, but she kept at it until she braced her hands on her knees and said, "I can't do this."

Rowan sank to a knee, the shield he'd kept around her while she stalked here sealing out the cold wind off the open plain.

"I-I can't—" She took a shuddering breath, and covered her face with her wet hands.

Gently, Rowan gripped her wrists and lowered them. "You do not face this alone."

Anguish and terror filled those beautiful eyes, and his chest tightened to the point of pain as she said, "It was a fool's shot against Erawan. But against him and Maeve? She gathered an army to her. Is likely bringing that army to Terrasen right now. And if Erawan summons his two brothers, if the other kings return—"

"He needs the two other keys to do that. He doesn't have them."

Her fingers curled, digging into her palms hard enough that the tang of her blood filled the air. "I should have gone after the keys. Right away. Not come here. Not done this."

"It is Dorian's task now, not yours. He will not fail at it."

"It is my task, and always has been—"

"We made the choice to come here, and we will stick to that decision," he snarled, not bothering to temper his tone. "If Maeve is indeed bringing her army to Terrasen, then it only confirms that we were right to come here. That we must convince the khagan's forces to go northward after this. It is the only chance we stand of succeeding."

Aelin ran her hands through her hair.

Streams of blood stained the gold. "I cannot win against them. Against a Valg king and queen." Her voice turned to a rasp. "They have already won."

"They have not." And though Rowan hated each word, he growled, "And you survived two months against Maeve with no magic to protect you. Two months of a Valg queen trying to break into your head, Aelin. To break you."

Aelin shook. "She did, though." Rowan waited for it. Aelin whispered, "I wanted to die by the end, before she ever threatened me with the collar. And even now, I feel like someone has ripped me from myself. Like I'm at the bottom of the sea, and who I am, who I was, is far up at the surface, and I will never get back there again."

He didn't know what to say, what to do other than to gently pull her fingers from her palms.

"Did you buy the swagger, the arrogance?" she demanded, voice breaking. "Did the others? Because I've been trying to. I've been trying like hell to convince myself that it's real, reminding myself I only need to pretend to be how I was just long enough."

Long enough to forge the Lock and die.

He said softly, "I know, Aelin." He hadn't bought the winks and smirks for a heartbeat.

Aelin let out a sob that cracked something in him. "I can't feel me-myself anymore. It's like she snuffed it out. Ripped me from it. She, and Cairn, and everything they did to me." She gulped down air, and Rowan wrapped her in his arms and pulled her onto his lap. "I am so tired," she wept. "I am so, so tired, Rowan."

"I know." He stroked her hair. "I know." It was all there really was to say.

Rowan held her until her weeping eased and she lay still, nestled against his chest.

"I don't know what to do," she whispered

"You fight," he said simply. "We fight. Until we can't anymore. We fight."

She sat up, but remained on his lap, staring into his face with a rawness that destroyed him.

Rowan laid a hand on her chest, right over that burning heart. "Fireheart."

A challenge and a summons.

She placed her hand atop his, warm despite the frigid night. As if that fire had not yet gone out entirely. But she only gazed up at the stars.

To the Lord of the North, standing watch.

"We fight," she breathed.

Aelin found Fenrys by a quiet fire, gazing into the crackling flames.

She sat on the log beside him, raw and open and trembling, but … the salt of her tears had washed away some of it. Steadied her. Rowan had steadied her, and still did, as he kept watch from the shadows beyond the fire.

Fenrys lifted his head, his eyes as hollow as she knew hers had been.

"Whenever you need to talk about it," she said, her voice still hoarse, "I'm here."

Fenrys nodded, his mouth a tight line. "Thank you."

The camp was readying for their departure, but Aelin scooted closer, and sat beside him in silence for long minutes.

Two healers, marked only by the white bands around their biceps, hurried past, arms full of bandages. Aelin tensed. Focused on her breathing.

Fenrys marked her line of sight. "They were horrified, you know," he said quietly. "Every time she brought them in to … fix you."

The two healers vanished around a tent.

Aelin flexed her fingers, shaking the lightness from them. "It didn't stop them from doing it."

"They didn't have a choice."

She met his dark stare. Fenrys's mouth tightened. "No one would have left you in those states. No one."

Broken and bloody and burned—

She gripped Goldryn's hilt. Helpless.

"They defied her in their own way," Fenrys went on. "Sometimes, she'd order them to bring you back to consciousness. Often, they claimed they couldn't, that you'd fallen too deeply into oblivion. But I knew—I think Maeve did, too— that they put you there. For as long as possible. To buy you time."

She swallowed. "Did she punish them?"

"I don't know. It was never the same healers." Maeve likely had. Had likely ripped their minds apart for their defiance.

Aelin's grip tightened on the sword at her side.

Helpless. She had been helpless. As so many in this city, in Terrasen, in this continent, were helpless. Goldryn's hilt warmed in her hand.

She wouldn't be that way again. For whatever time she had left.

Gavriel padded up beside Rowan, took one look at the queen and Fenrys, and murmured, "Not the news we needed to hear."

Rowan closed his eyes for a heartbeat. "No, it was not."

Gavriel settled a hand on Rowan's shoulder.

"It changes nothing, in some ways."

"How."

"We served her. She was ... not what Aelin is. What a queen should be. We knew that long before we knew the truth. If Maeve wants to use what she is against us, to ally with Morath, then it changes things. But the past is over. Done with, Rowan. Knowing Maeve is Valg or just a wretched person doesn't change what happened."

"Knowing a Valg queen wants to enslave my mate, and nearly did so, changes a great deal."

"But we know what Maeve fears, why she fears it," Gavriel countered, his tawny eyes bright. "Fire, and the healers. If Maeve comes with that army of hers, we are not defenseless." It was true. Rowan could have cursed himself for not thinking of it already. Another question formed, though. "Her army," Rowan said. "It's made up of Fae."

"So was her armada," Gavriel said warily.

Rowan ran a hand through his hair. "Will you be able to live with it-fighting our own people?" Killing them.

"Will you?" Gavriel countered.

Rowan didn't answer.

Gavriel asked after a moment, "Why didn't Aelin offer me the blood oath?"

The male hadn't asked these weeks. And Rowan wasn't sure why Gavriel inquired now, but he gave him the truth. "Because she won't do it until Aedion has taken the oath first. To offer it to you before him ... she wants Aedion to take it first."

"In case he doesn't wish me to be near his kingdom."

"So that Aedion knows she placed his needs before her own."

Gavriel bowed his head. "I would say yes, if she offered."

"I know." Rowan clapped his oldest friend on the back. "She knows, too."

The Lion gazed northward. "Do you think ... we haven't heard any news from Terrasen."

"If it had fallen, if Aedion had fallen, we would know. People here would know."

Gavriel rubbed at his chest. "We've been to war. He's been to war. Fought on battlefields as a child, gods be damned." Rage flickered over Gavriel's face. Not at what Aedion had done, but what he'd been made to do by fate and misfortune. What Gavriel had not been there to prevent. "But I still dread every day that passes and we hear nothing. Dread every messenger we see."

A terror Rowan had never known, different from his fear for his mate, his queen. The fear of a father for his child.

He didn't allow himself to look toward Aelin. To remember his dreams while hunting for her. The family he'd seen. The family they'd make together.

"We must convince the khaganate royals to march northward when this battle is over," Gavriel swore softly.

Rowan nodded. "If we can smash this army tomorrow, and convince the royals that Terrasen is the only course of action, then we could indeed be heading north soon. You might be fighting at Aedion's side by Yulemas."

Gavriel's hands clenched at his sides, tattoos spreading over his knuckles. "If he will allow me that honor."

Rowan would make Aedion allow it. But he only said, "Gather Elide and Lorcan. The ruks are almost ready to depart."

[c-o-z-m-o]

this rat really is the "IM NOT DEAD YET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" guy

[coern]

two embers needs to release soon already so I can have a little more of an excuse to draw alef and resh as siblings and draw them to six trillion years and overnight story

[hibernationfibres]

The Outer Wilds solar system: complete! It was a true labor of love and I'm so proud of how it turned out 🌌🌠

Video here!

Pattern: my own! Almost everything is some form of flat crochet circle, however, plus some embroidery details. Dark Bramble is partly tapestry crochet, and the quantum moon is movable as it's on a button! :D

Yarns: there are many so there's a list below!

Background - Malabrigo Dos Tierras in 'Paris Night' (yes all of it! The border is a different colourway! Looks intentional, right? :P)

Timber Hearth - Life In The Long Grass Twist DK in 'Moorlands' (thank you Northern Yarn)

Attlerock - Woollen Wytch SW Merino DK in 'Overcast' (thank you Woollen Wytch and Alterknit Universe)

The Quantum Moon yarn was held with silver thread and it has a clear button on the back (thank you Hester's Haberdashery)

(Below: all DK Merino/Nylon from Yarnside Hand Dyed Yarn)

Ember Twin + Hollow's Lantern - 'Cinders'

Ash Twin - 'Blushing Wood Mushroom'

Brittle Hollow - 'Ebenezer's Dressing Gown'

Giant's Deep - 'Woodland Moss'

Dark Bramble - 'Fellside', 'Oak Bark' 'Meltwater'

Interloper - 'Meltwater', 'Aurora'

[bthemistake]

~ Figayda ~

Happy Pride :)

[Image Description:

Fanart of the characters Fig Faeth and Ayda Auegfort, from the D&D show Dimension 20 Fantasy High, on a pale yellow background.

Ayda is smiling, eyes closed and mouth open as she talks happily, with her wings tucked behind her and her flame-hair curling up into the air, embers floating upwards. She is wearing a matching 'Fig and the Cig Figs' shirt with Fig.

Fig is slightly behind her, looking fondly at her girlfriend, with two of Aydas feathers attached to one of her elf-like ears. Her brown hair is tied into two plaited pig-tails, the ends dyed a warm purple, and her bangs are brushed aside by two Tiefling horns protruding from her head. She is wearing her own band shirt, though hers is sleeveless, with a fishnet long sleeve shirt underneath.

End of Image Description]