#HE’S WYRD! STOP HIM

[woethehero]

Well, well! Long time no see! I’ve been busy doing a couple projects in addition to the WyrdRPG, so that took a back seat for a bit while I collaborated with @catnoli to be a guest in their shop drop this weekend!

I’ve made my own shark postcards (fashionably wyrd, of course) as well as a lot of my other recent works and some stickers!

I’d be honored if you took a look. Thank you for your time!

[whereserpentswalk]

Descriptions of the individual member of each species you'll be dating is below this cut:

1 the vampire: a young vampire (they're 800, but anything below 1000 is young to vampires) who recently moved near you. They're less humanoid then most vampires they know, lacking any sex characteristics, having a somewhat elongated looking body, and having a mouth filled with sharp angler fish like teeth that can open much wider then it looks. They act very chill and down to earth, having lived long enough to not have many worries. They'll probably play guitar for you.

2 the faerie: a noble woman of the autumn court whose been ruling since long before your ansestors walked down from their trees. Her true form is a massive spider like monster with a deer skull for a head, but she can take the form of a tall woman in a black dress if you'd rather. She tends to be nice, but has a problem with thinking of mortals as if they're cute little children. She'll probably give you headpats.

3 the cyborg: a cyborg who was created as a warroir back before the fall of Atlantis. She's been wandering the world ever since the fall, trying to stop the threats humanity doesn't know about. She has a lot of mechanical and magical upgrades but the most noticeable is that her skin is replaced with power armor below her neck. She's on break right now and is a bit burnt out. She's a rather nostalgic person, and scares rather easily after all these years. She'll probably ask to be help despite the fact she's probably taller than you.

4 the dragon: a massive dragon with seven heads and great black wings whose been guarding a hoard of ancient treasure for six million years. Despite his appearance ge's very nice to humans as long as they're respectful of him. He's the type who'll want to tell you puns or make you food if he likes you. Unfortunately for any intimacy he can't shape-shift so he'll have to be very gentle with you.

5 the demon: it's specifically the type of demon that makes deals with people, useally for souls. Don't worry it's not going to try to take your soul, that's just work. It looks like a humanoid figure in a black suit with striking red eyes, the suit is actually part of its body, it doesn't even have organs under there just thick black shadows. It can be freindly, and very curious about the human world, but it doesn't have many positive experiences with humans and doesn't really get social rules or anything like that. It struggles with not really thinking of itself as a person with it's own rights and value.

6 the werewolf: a scientist (well actually a grad student) who studied werewolves who was bitten during their research process. They're really excited about their new transformation, and being in their wolf form feels good. Though they are a bit afraid of what can happen with them, and they don't know what triggers their transformation yet. Their werewolf form is a massive wolf like humanoid with black fur and bright yellow eyes. Their human form just looks like a regular person. They're very excited to meet someone whose accepting of them, and they're very talkative and enthusiastic to those who know them, despite being timid at first.

7 the fallen angel: a recently fallen angel. It doesn't seem like angels are even created by a god, they're just these interdimensional beings. This fallen angel has rather recently fallen due to getting too close to humans they were supposed to be studying, most scandalously: considering themselves male when most angels are considered above gender. He looks like a youthful slender humanoid, with a sexless body, and four bright blue wings. Golden cracks have been forming on his skin since the fall. He still hasn't unlearned everything from being with the angels for millenia, so he can act rather regal and princely. But he has a deep love for humanity most angels don't have, and is deeply saddened by what happened, and probably needs some comfort right now.

8 the slasher: technically a demon but he doesn't really hang out with other demons. He looks like a young man wearing a pale mask that doesn't ever come off. He was hired by the winter fae to kill humans in their sacred woods but really he just likes killing. He enjoys killing and doesn't really have a human idea of morals, and thinks of it as a sort of art, but he'll probably think of you as diffrent if he's pack bonded with you, probably becoming really protective of you. He rarely speaks, and he's probably more comfortable using sign language or aac in public.

9 the witch: an ancient witch whose been studying magic for centuries, though her body remains young and beautiful, though she's quite sallow and underweight. She gouged out her eyes in a ritual that allowed her to see into planes beyond this reality, giving her knowledge that makes her somewhat detached from the rest of humanity. She tends to be rather quiet and aloof, though freindly, and she'll probably be a bit suprised to receive affection from a human. She'll probably want to tell you about her studies and hyperfixations a lot.

10 the ghost: the ghost of a knight banished from the afterlife after cursing the gods of death. He's mournful and very sensitive. When he manifests he appears as he did at the time of death, with his armor still on, and arrows piercing his chainmail. He'll be very devoted to you, but is very heartbroken that he can never actually touch your body the way a human would. Mabye he can possess you for short amounts of time to make up for it.

11 the slime: a strange creature found at the edge of time, appearing as a mass of black ooz that can take any form. It's considered loyalty amoung lesser slime, even among the smallest of jelly. It doesn't seem to talk but is incredibly intelligent and mysterious, and has been known to take certain forms inorder to manipulate people. The form it likes taking around humans is a cartoonish female humanoid is a puffy dress, we don't know why.

12 the void: under no circumstances should you try to romance to void. It's quite hazardous and you won't be human after becoming a bride/groom of the void.

[bright-side20]

Furthering the two kinds of mating bonds theory 🙂‍↕️

*In Hofas :

"Urd guides all-she's the weaver of fate, of destiny." Bryce added after a moment, "I think she's the reason I'm here."

Bryce told Nesta that it's Urd who controls fate.

Then:

"The Fae say the Cauldron holds our fates. Maybe it became this Urd."

Nesta wondered if the Cauldron is what people in Midgard believe to be Urd.

People who say that Azriel was wrong for p the Cauldron because it's fate that creates the bonds, well, the Fae believe that the Cauldron holds their fates.

*Back to what Rhys said about who creates the bonds:

“What decides it? Who decides it?” Rhys straightened his lapels before plucking an invisible piece of lint from them. “Fate, the Mother, the Cauldron’s swirling eddies …”

Rhys mentioned fate, the Mother and the cauldron.

*Eventually, in Hofas, we learned that:

"And she," the Under-King went on, gesturing to that unusual depiction of Urd towering above him, "was not a goddess, but a force that governed worlds. A cauldron of life, brimming with the language of creation. Urd, they call her here-a bastardized ver- sion of her true name. Wyrd, we called her in that old world."

Urd is, in fact, the Mother in Prythian. She and the Cauldron both control fate. The Mother and the Cauldron used to work together, but after the Asteri corrupted it, the Cauldron is no longer under the Mother's control. So in Prythian, there exist two controllers of fate:

_The mother's fate : the real one

_The Cauldron's fate : the distorted one

Which explains why Rhys mentioned the Mother and the Cauldron, both being associated with fate and creators of the mating bonds. This means there are also two kinds of bonds.

_The mother's bond (real one) : "true, paired souls.” A smile at me—at the rareness, perhaps, of what we had.

_The Cauldron's bond (distorted) :" sometimes, yes—the bond picks poorly. Sometimes, the bond is nothing more than some … preordained guesswork at who will provide the strongest offspring."

*The Cauldron's swirling eddies

Further emphasis on the Cauldron's swirling eddies, which Rhys said create mating bonds.

I believe that the Bone Carver was a Daglan, based on the many parallels he had with the Asteri. So:

*acowar :

The Bone Carver again fell silent, toying with the shard of the Attor’s bone in the dirt beside him. “The eddies of the Cauldron swirl in strange ways,” he murmured, more to himself than us.

How did the Bone Carver know how the Cauldron's swirling eddies were working?

*Answer :

Vesperus (daglan) :We pooled our power, and imbued those gifts into the Cauldron so that it would work our will.

It is because his power is in the Cauldron.

This means that the Cauldron's swirling eddies, which match mates, are distorted and corrupted by the Asteri's power, so it simply creates wrong bonds 💁🏻‍♀️

*Defeating the Cauldron's fate:

Until now, two beings have overpowered the Cauldron’s control over fate:

_Elain Archeron : The Cauldron seemed to realize what she’d done, too, as his head thumped onto the mossy ground. That Elain … Elain had defended this thief.

_The mother : I think something else— someone else—stopped the Cauldron from taking all of it. And I made some changes of my own.” The Mother. The only being who would see the sacrifice Nesta had made and give a little back.

So yeah let's go Elriel :

*Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—perhaps even the Mother herself.

*Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.

[moonlightazriel]

Chapter 9: Two witches go to a war camp… /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: After a much needed talk with Elain, Nesta takes Y/N to Windhaven.

Word Count: 2,2K

Warnings: None for this part.

Notes:

Main Masterlist

Worlds Apart Masterlist

“I'm sorry if I made everything weird between you and her.” Y/N started, remembering the way Elain tried to stop him from going with her.

“She confuses me.” Lucien sighed, sipping on the liquor she had found hidden in a cabinet. “She’s with him, but whenever she sees me trying to move on, she finally remembers she’s my mate and acts with jealousy towards me.”

“Love sucks.” She let out a humourless laugh.

“After everything with Jessminda, I just wish to be happy.” Sadness overtook his features, he had shared about his past lover that day at the city, and Y/N felt her heart crack a bit.

“You will be.” She promised him.

Y/N woke up that day on her bed, her talk with Lucien still fresh in her mind, and as she jumped out of the bed, showered and got dressed, she knew what she would do that day.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Meraxes landed near the garden, on an empty part of the house Rhys and Feyre lived, she already had to talk to them, talking to Elain in the process was going to be perfect.

She strolled towards the hallways, the sound of her boots echoing around the house as she reached the office Rhysand had indicated to them last night as they got back from Hewn City.

She knocked, waiting for them to allow her in. Feyre opened the door with a gentle smile, welcoming her in. The office had dark wooden furniture and grey walls, a portrait of Feyre sat beautifully behind the desk, like she was the force that guided Rhysand even when she wasn’t there in person.

“Good morning.” He said, cradling his sleeping son against his chest.

“Good morning! Thank you for receiving me.” She cleared her throat. “I’m here to ask for permission to leave with Lucien and explore Koschei’s home.” The two shared a look like they were talking in each other’s mind. Like Maeve did.

“You are free in this court, but we appreciate your consideration.” Feyre spoke, hands cupping his shoulders. “We’re going to ask for Azriel to join you two, we also need to deal with Koschei and he can share what he already knows with you.”

Being stuck with Azriel and Lucien, when the two couldn’t stand being in the same room with each other for more than 5 minutes? Great, just fucking great.

“Do you think this will help?” Rhys inquired, his violet eyes piercing her into her seat.

“I’m willing to try anything at this point.” She shifted on her seat, her scar throbbing with anxiety.

“Mor found this.” He handed her a book, covered in a dark leathery material, looking like a diary. “She looked around her father’s office and this was the only thing that made sense.”

Y/N grabbed the book, flipping through the pages, drawings and an ancient alphabet she knew very well, Wyrd marks. She closed the book quickly, wanting to read it just as fast.

“This is going to be very useful.” She smiled at them. “May I take it with me during the trip?” Feyre nodded.

“Please do.” She waved her hand and Y/N shoved the diary in between her leathers. She groaned as she saw the state of her clothes that morning, the ripped fabric making her angry.

“We also will have some incursions of our own. Nesta and Cassian fly today to the war camps to see what they can discover . You may want to find her, she wants you to join them.” Rhys announced. “We’re in touch with the other High Lords, Koschei is a threat we all have in common, so it gives us the perfect excuse to roam around their libraries. Except Autumn of course.”

“Lucien asked his brother for help.” She blurted. “Eris says he will try his best.” Rhysand and Feyre shared a surprised look.

“Well, that is nice of him. Thank you.” Feyre spoke.

“Thank you for all your efforts.” She thanked them, getting up. “I need to get going so I can do everything that I need to do before travelling.” Feyre nodded.

“Of course, go ahead. But just be careful.” The female begged and Y/N nodded.

“I’ll try my best.” She said with a confident gleam in her eyes, exiting the office.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

She leaned in the doorway, Elain was kneeled on the ground, hands digging in the soil as she planted another pink flower in that already full and beautiful garden.

Elain stiffed, the black wyvern approaching the garden, its huge snot bumping against her perfect flowers, Meraxes sniffled, sitting on its back paws as his head rolled to the sides, happily appreciating the smell.

“Oh, do you like flowers?” She asked, looking curiously at the creature, Meraxes took a deep breath and his big grin appeared in approval.

“He does.” Y/N replied from behind her, prompting Elain to quickly whip her head in her direction, hurt and sadness filled her brown eyes as she made eye contact with her.

“What do you want? Tell me how wonderful your night with Lucien was!?” Elain got up, removing the gloves from her hands and walking towards Y/N, standing in front of her.

“I did have a wonderful night with him.” Elain scoffed but her eyes filled with tears. “Because Lucien is an amazing, caring friend. I came here to tell you that nothing happened yesterday, at least not what you think.”

“You two didn’t sneak out to be alone?” Elain’s breath hitched.

“We did, but I just needed to get away from that crowd, it reminded me of bad times, he was just helping me to get back in control of my emotions.” Elain watched her silently. “Take care of him, please, love him how he deserves to be loved. Lucien has a gentle yet fragile heart, handle with care.”

“I thought about what you told me.” She started. “Azriel and I are no longer together, and now it’s my turn to ask you to love him how he deserves, Azriel has been searching for love for so long, and I wasn’t what he needed, but I have a suspicion that you might be, so please, be careful and patient with him, he deserves it.”

Her words left her astonished for a few minutes, just blinking towards the female like a confused kid. Did Azriel say anything about dreaming about her? Did he feel the same increase in his heartbeat that she did whenever he looked at her? Did he love her like she loved him?

“Thank you Elain. And after everything ends and if I’m still here, would you teach me gardening?” Elain smiled.

“I would love to.” She nodded her head, smiling back at Elain before she headed towards Meraxes, she had to find Nesta.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“You can’t go like this.” Nesta stomped her foot down, looking at the damaged clothing Y/N was wearing. “You would be better in Illyrian leathers, they’re amazing.”

“And where do we get them?” She asked, to which Morrigan happily chimed in.

“In the best shop of all Illyria.” She had a big smile. “My mate’s shop.”

Y/N sat atop Meraxes, Morrigan pressed against her as the two made their way towards Emerie’s shop. Before Y/N met Cassian and Nesta at the camp.

Mor rambled about how she and Emerie met, the bond snapping for them and how they had busy life’s but always made time for each other, and in every opportunity she would fly to be with her lover.

The wyvern waited outside the town, and they walked towards the tiny shop in the middle of the town. Thousands of winged males and females walked there, minding their own business and going on with their lives.

The heavy door scratched against the floor as Mor pushed it open, revealing a well lit inside with clothes hanging around and a leathery smell. Behind the counter the female from that training day stood, her hair was braided and she was reading a book.

“Do you have any leathers available?” Mor said in a slow and sensual tone, Emerie lifted her eyes, her expression going from serious to pure delight as she saw her mate standing in her store.

“For you? I have everything.” She crossed the store in two quick steps, embracing Morrigan and pulling her in for a kiss. “I missed you.”

“Me too baby, me too.” The female turned to Y/N. “Emerie this is Y/N, Y/N this is Emerie.” Y/N shook her extended hand.

“It’s nice to see you again.” She spoke and the female nodded in agreement.

“She’s the female that disarmed Azriel, that I told you about.” She told her mate, who looked at them confused.

“Oh okay.” Morrigan laughed. “Makes sense.”

The blonde then started to talk about how Y/N could use some new clothes and Nesta had sent her there. It took exactly twenty minutes for her to get in full Illyrian attire, very tight on her body but not in a restricting way. And four more pairs ready to take home with her.

She had thanked them, leaving the two alone. Walking towards Meraxes, the clothes felt okay, not that different from what she was used to. She clicked her jaw and exposed her teeth, Godslayer behind her back. She mounted the wyvern and headed towards the camp where she was supposed to meet Nesta.

Devlon kept staring at her with annoyance, he hated having Nesta around, a witch as he claimed she was. The female’s gaze turned to the sky a few times, waiting for the winged shadow that would make them tremble in fear.

With a loud roar, she saw it. The wyvern descending from the skies, his powerful wings carrying the winds in them. Devlon turned to the commotion, cursing loudly as he spotted Meraxes landing and his rider dismounting, sliding down his leg and landing on the ground with ease.

“Who the hell is that?” He demanded to know, turning to the General that didn’t even try to suppress the smirk at the male’s terrified gaze.

“Our guest for today.” He announced. “Welcome to Illyria, Lady Blackbeak.” Y/N bowed her head to Cassian, not even looking at the static male beside him.

“Lord Cassian, thank you for having me. Lady Nesta.” She turned her body to the female.

“What are you?” The male spat, and she turned those deep blue eyes in his direction, her claws scratching her chin as she grinned, the sun shining on the iron, giving the metallic smile a creep touch.

“I’m a witch, what else would I be?” She spoke in a condescending tone, like it was obvious what her true nature was.

“First you bring her.” His crooked finger pointed at Nesta, the female scoffed. “And then another one? You curse our land. You two are going to be our doom.” He pointed to the females, Nesta had walked to Y/N’s side and the two smiled at him sweetly.

“I’m kinda busy to be anyone’s doom.” Nesta sarcastically remarked.

“Oh yeah, me too.” Y/N shrugged. “Maybe next year.” She winked at the male.

Devlon was seething with anger, their mere presence was an affront to them and their traditions, Cassian as an Illyrian should know. But it looked like he and the two females didn’t give a shit about it.

“What do you want?” He sighed deeply.

“Your oldest scriptures.” Cassian spoke and the male rolled his eyes before giving in.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“What is this?” Y/N pointed to the drawing of a monolith, the stone was sculpted with square edges with a slit on top. Like a keyhole.

“This is the monolith atop Ramiel, it’s where you have to reach in order to finish the Blood Rite.” Cassian spoke, giving her a brief introduction of what the Blood Rite was.

“And when you finish it just teleports you back?” She inquired.

“Basically.” He shrugged, not knowing where she wanted to go with it.

“Ramiel, here says it’s a sacred mountain, very powerful.” Both Cassian and Nesta nodded. “Powerful enough to open a gate?”

“What?” Cassian asked and in a second the two stood behind her.

“The Valgs used wyrd keys to travel, they inserted them in wyrd gates to open portals to other worlds. If the drawing is accurate..” She pointed to the marks adorning the monolith. “These are wyrd marks and this..” She pointed to the top part of the monolith, towards the slith. “Is a keyhole for a wyrd key.”

“How do we know that you’re truly correct?” Nesta inquired.

“I would have to see it with my own eyes.” She groaned, if they didn’t wanted her there, there’s no fucking way they would allow her at Ramiel.

“Rhys can show you.” Cassian spoke and she looked at him. “We have to go back to Velaris.”

The three rushed outside, thanking Devlon for the scriptures and Y/N promised to stay away for a while, making the male growl at her. They stood in front of Meraxes.

“You two go, I’ll meet you there.” Cassian urged and they nodded, Y/N climbed towards the saddle and Cassian dropped Nesta behind her, securing both in place, they flew, this could finally be a step towards the right direction.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Taglist: @fieldofdaisiies @blackgirlmagicforever @a-frog-with-a-laptop @going-through-shit @asweetblueberry2

@roses-r-red54330 @mis-lil-red @sheblogs @hibye02 @impossibelle

@glitterypirateduck @zeroangelo13 @sekiro1310 @nelapeach14 @annamariereads16

@just-here-reading @celestialend @donttellthecats @scatteredstardustt @snoopyspace

@asterinblacksword @tsumudoll @georginat12 @skyjasper @anuttellaa

@willowpains @quinzzelx @amysangel @fightmedraco @puttyly

@lees-chaotic-brain @thisblogisaboutabook @esposadomd @stained-glass-eyes0708 @brujitafantomatico

@a-cup-of-nightshade @faridathefairy @bubybubsters

[a-d-nox]

web of wyrd observation: why timothee chalamet's wyrd web just makes sense

9-9-18 CODES

if you all ever wonder why this man is so illustrious, those are witchy combos, my friend - like my goodness there are a lot. this many could make a person capable of standing alone (hermit (9) who represents solitude) while enchanting people around them (the moon (18) is ruled by neptune). the code exists in his artistic talent zone which then makes even more sense - at least to me it does - why so many people love him.

21 AS THE CAREER NUMBER

world (21) people tend to receive and win many awards during their time in their career. so far timmy has five awards of note, and he is not even 30 yet. we can expect when his saturn (the planet that rules the world card) return occurs that his fame will only increase. there are a few critical years for being in his prime, especially in terms of his career like ages 45 and 52.

15 AS THE MONEY BLOCKER

it's no wonder he switched schools then stopped attending during the filming of interstellar... the devil (15) is capricorn ruled. the traditional route (schooling) is not the way to get into a career for these people.

12 AS THE HIGHER SELF

the hanged man (12) is a neptunian... so here is my prediction... i do not believe that he will always just be an actor - one day in the future, i feel like he will be a producer, screenwriter, or director. not to mention...

9-6-15 CODE

he has a creative code on his third eye chakra, so that again makes me think of a director - someone who sees things through a creative lens/perspective.

6 AS THE FLOW AND A PRIMARY MATERIAL ENERGY

this is the definition of "be pretty, get money" - as long as he is promoting beauty and grace in his characters, he will continue to receive the adoration of others and make money.

like what you read? leave a tip and state what post it is for! please use my "suggest a post topic." button if you want to see a specific pac/pile next! if you'd like my input on how i read a specific card or what i like to ask my deck OR BETTER YET - who you would like to see next for a wyrd web observation, feel free to use the button for that as well.

click here for the masterlist

click here for more web of wyrd related posts

want a personal reading? click here to check out my reading options and prices!

© a-d-nox 2024 all rights reserved

[gcballet]

Had a putter around the antiques and vintage market today - would have bought this copy of Better Than Life but I'm not made of 1st edition money

First time ever seeing an LRH book in the wild. Was tempted to put him next to the Neil Gaiman books so someone else could eventually notice and also smirk and think 'what a bunch of sociopaths rest in piss'

In hindsight, becoming an SF writer is the foundation of Scientology. We should have clocked that if nothing else.

Tried to have some self control with my Discworld collecting - already have four on the way from eBay, sooo... yeah I was really good and only bought Sourcery and Wyrd Sisters. Going to try to just buy them in order from now on. I went to the other stall in the place that had Pratchett and they don't have any bc I literally bought them all last time I was here. Oops.

More Red Dwarf - this time the first audiobook as read by Chris Barrie on tape cassette. Those audiobooks are all on Spotify as a fan upload btw, so you don't need premium.

Oh, the Pocahontas by Golden Films where she's friends with a talking canoe

Was this Star Trek book the obnoxiously slashy one (/pos) or am I thinking of The Phoenix? They're all pretty gay I mean.

Didn't know The Goodies ever had stuff in print but it makes sense - the 1970s were peak era for Annuals etc. I wish I'd stopped and had a read tbh.

And lastly this beautiful 1/4 Arkham Origins figure. Always loved how his prequel design has visible buckles and fastenings and stuff because he's still in the early stages of building his suit and equipment. Like it's not perfectly streamlined or bespoke yet, he's one step above using a glue gun.

[lord-aldhelm]

WIP Wednesday

Another week, another tag game! Please share your last sentence; or, if you don’t have one, share a plot bunny or idea! (OR sketch for your artwork!)

Thank you for tagging me @paula-in-dreamland!!! I cannot believe it is Wednesday already! Urgh!

A little snippet from Chapter 11 of my Aldflaed WIP Darkest Before the Dawn:

She gazed up at him with eyes filled with a warmth and softness that he had not seen from her before. It made him uneasy, and he glanced around quickly to make sure no one was watching them. He forced himself to maintain composure and keep his face as stoic as possible, which was becoming increasingly difficult given the way she kept staring at him.

I plan to publish Chapter 9 sometime this week as well.

In art news, I have to put Aldhelm on hold for the time being, since I need to get started on my pet portrait commissions! I am sad casting him aside, but I hope to be able to get back to painting him next month! Here is the last WIP photo before the break:

The sword is finished! I started working on his hands but did not get the chance to finish them before stopping. Once the final piece is done, I will show close up scans of it with details about the various parts/symbols in it.

Now, the first pet portrait of the year:

This is Chibi! He is a shorthaired grey kitty with BIG green eyes! I am working on the background for his portrait right now.

Other things I am currently working on:

Re-making a few gifsets from early Season 3 and one from Season 2 with better coloring/quality (already done, in my queue)

Making gifsets for Season 4 (just finished episode 1 a few days ago)

Making gifsets for Wihtgar for the source blog (hope to post the first one soon)

A series of edits for my Pinterest account that I will also be posting here

No pressure tags:

@gemini-mama @thelettersfromnoone @synintheraven @garunsdottir @thenameswinter99

@bagheerita @solinarimoon @errruvande @aneurins-barnard

@waterfallsilverberrywrites @holy3cake @whitedarkmoonflower @bilbotargaryen

@grinningkatz @ladyinred2248 @hikaruchen @st-eve-barnes @alexagirlie @lady-wyrd

Let me know if you want to be added/removed from my taglist.

[anarchiii]

What could of been… —TOG AU

Part one | Warnings: angst | Rowan x Aelin

Summary: What if Rowan had known Lyria was pregnant and didn’t go off to war? Fenrys would have most likely trained Celaena, not Rowan, Would Celaena be the person she is in KOA?

Note: this is an AU this isn’t in the books.

Masterlist / Series Masterlist

Rowan’s POV

“Rowan! We’re ready!” Lyria’s called from the entryway pulling him back into reality from where he’d been lost in thought. “Coming love!” He echoed back, walking out of the shared bedroom to his wife and their youngest daughter, they were going out to Mistward to visit Emrys and malakai for a party. They were celebrating something along the lines of peace. Since Wendlyn hadn’t been in any conflicts which Rowan was grateful for as that meant Rowan got to spend more time with his family, His daughter Maisie—only eight—had not been pleased at the idea of going out but had begrudgingly accepted after the promise of good food.

He kissed his mates cheek before grabbing his jacket and walking out the door his family trailing behind, he was going to be meeting with Fenrys to see how he was going with the task their queen had given him.

He was tasked with training a girl to control, wield and hone her magic. And not to mention shift. Though from what Fenrys had said the girl was a real spitfire. He knew that because Fenrys had been ranting non stop about her for two hours straight while drinking a monumental amount of ale and then passing out onto Lorcan, he’d feel bad for the male if he wasn’t such a bastard.

Soon enough they were passing through the gates of Mistward heading for a particular building, walking through the door and discarding his jacket on the nearest hanger before doing the same for his mate, kissing her cheek and ruffling Maisie’s hair before going to greet Emrys.

-

Celaena’s POV

Celaena was grateful for no training today and so were her limbs, the gods knew they were on the brink of death. She’s been staring at the ceiling on her pathetic excuse of a bed when Fenrys had walked in. She turned her head to the side and stared at him intensely, annoyed that he had interrupted her daily existence check session.

Fenrys rightfully looked a little intimidated but brushed it of as he sat down on the bed next to her. She hated that about him, he was so carefree.

“So…there’s a little party going on in an hour and you’re kind of required to be there” he said. Great just great, she had to go socialise with some fae, how better could her day get?

-

She’d been getting dirty looks from all the Fae since she’d arrived, if they didn’t stop soon she’d surely end up burning them to a crisp and as much as she wanted to do that. She couldn’t.

She needed to go to Doranelle and learn everything about the wyrd keys and the Valg as she could, if she killed somebody her majesty Maeve would not be very pleased. “Earth to Elentiya you there?” Fenrys voice pulling her from her thoughts.

“Yeah I’m here” She answered, “Right, I want you to meet one of my friends.”

“Very well” she replied blankly,

Fenrys led her through the crowds of Demi and full blooded Fae and Faeries—even a few humans—all together, no fighting no conflicts. Just co existing for this one particular night. But apparently all this peaceful-ness didn’t include being nice to her.

-

After walking through the crowd for what felt like hours, they finally found Fenrys friends.

“Celaena I’d like you to meet my good friend Rowan and his mate Lyria, Rowan, Lyria this is Elentiya”

She looked to the Fae finding them already staring at her, awkward, the man—Rowan was beautiful really, with long white hair and dazzling emerald eyes she couldn’t help gaze into—but she wasn’t interested in men—males right now, the female, Lyria. Was a stunning woman, with a head of brown hair adorned with pearls, cascading down her shoulders and gold-brown eyes that reminded her of the freshest honey. She wasn’t a very envious woman but even she couldn’t help feeling jealous of such beauty, it had her looking away to the child clutching her mothers frilly pink dress, the girl couldn’t of been older than ten, her shoulder length light brown hair adorned with lime green bows and crystal clear gems, she was a natural beauty that even Celaena couldn’t help notice. “And this is our youngest daughter Maisie.” Lyria said, even her voice was beautiful, it was unfair really.

“It’s lovely to meet you three” Celaena said trying to sound as polite as possible, even mustering up the energy for a smile, she didn’t bother to think about how dirty her teeth must be or be embarrassed by them. The gods knew she probably looked like she was half dead, she didn’t care. Maybe a few months ago she would’ve but not now. She tried not to linger on the thoughts of if she’d ever care about her looks again.

“Celaena, I hear you are training. May I ask what for?” Rowan asked

Rowan worked for Maeve so there was no point in lying about it, besides Fenrys would call her out for the lie anyway. “I’m trying to get into Doranelle, Her Majesty Maeve insists I learn to wield my…gifts if I want to receive passage to her city.”

“What magic do you have? How much?” Lyria inquired. Almost looking bored with her. Did she not know it was rude to ask about those kind of things?

“Uh, fire magic. I have. Uhm just a small amount.” Celaena was getting uncomfortable with these questions, the female had no business knowing about her magic. She was getting ready to bolt when Rowan said, “well I won’t keep you here all night, I want to greet some old friends, if you’ll excuse us.” —practically dragging his wife away—She could’ve kissed the man for that, he most likely saw her getting uncomfortable. “Very well, it was lovely meeting you guys” she said. They were walking away when Lyria turned and gave her a dirty look. What the hell was that about? She hadn’t been that rude, for a matter of fact she’d been downright delightful.

She tried not to take it to personally as she made her way to the drinks table, grabbing a bottle of faerie wine as she walked over to a shady spot, swigging from the bottle as she surveyed everyone. The taste of the wine was a welcoming sensation as it slid down her throat. She was going to have a mad headache tomorrow but it was a small price to pay for the reprieve it brought.

-

Two hours and three bottles later Celaena was ready to leave, She didn’t remember why she’d even came in the first place, then again after all the wine she’d had she couldn’t remember much of anything. She was figuring out if she should just leave the bottles of faerie wine where they were or discard them somewhere appropriate when she saw Rowan make his way toward her. Shit? She didn’t have time to wonder if that was a bad thing as he was already in front of her, he had no business being that fast. “Hey, can I talk to you outside for a moment?” He said, “yeah sure” she answered back.

When they were away from everyone he turned to her, his beautiful eyes catching in the fae lights making them shine a bright emerald. She couldn’t help but be entranced in their beauty. He broke the silence first, “I’m sorry about my mate earlier, it was rude to ask such personal questions like that, I had a talk to her about it. I can get her to apologise if that’s what you want.” the idea of making the female apologise was appealing but she’d be a decent person today. “No it’s Alright, if I was her I most likely would’ve asked the same thing, there is no need to make anyone apologise.” She said, Celaena wondered why she was in such a good mood, maybe it was the wine or the dazzling male in front of her, she could get drunk off looking into his eyes all day, that’d be better than any wine. Why was she so..attracted to him? He had a mate and a child for gods sake she couldn’t be like this.

“Thank you for being so understanding Celaena.” He echoed back, god, the way he’d said her name—her alias— she wondered what it’d be like to have him say her name—her real name—to wake up next to him every day,to bear his children—She shut those thoughts away so far that they could only escape in her dreams, her wicked, cruel dreams. Filled with screams of beloved friends—and some of her own—of brown hair that shined in the sun, of sun kissed skin, bloody beds and tables, The scent of lotus and lavender. She shivered at the thoughts. “Anyway, it was nice meeting you, good luck on getting to Doranelle.” Rowan said before he walked back into the crowd—back to that mate of his, and child—She didn’t understand why this was bothering her so much, she didn’t even know his last name and yet she felt like she could, and would. lay down her life for him.

She walked back to her room and plopped down on her bed, pulling the blanket up to her shoulders. —To try and deter the cold— as she tried to drift off to sleep. Ignoring that golden threaded feeling blooming in her chest.

Finally the Sandman came for her and she fell into a dream filled slumber, dreams full of sparkling green eyes and a head full of silver hair lying beneath a crown of blue flames…

The End.

-Taglist

@leiawritesstories

@mariaofdoranelle

@throneofglassmicrofics

@aelinschild

@elentiyawhitethorn

@tomtenadia

@rowanaelinn

[drinkyourvillainjuice]

Hounds' Altruist Hot Takes - Enfilade

Architect

Behaviour: Ruthless and hence not to be underestimated. Doesn't necessarily hold a grudge towards him for taking her hostage, more she feels she screwed up by putting herself in that position.

Abilities: Highly competent and dangerous, and his powers, used smartly, are a real problem in any engagement.

Rampage

Behaviour: A reckless blunt instrument, which doesn't mean she isn't dangerous. Doesn't think too highly of her.

Abilities: Why is it always the hotheads that have wrecking ball powers?

Fracture

Behaviour: Gritty villains who don't want to give up are always a headache.

Abilities: Mildly impressed by how much punishment he can take without slowing down.

Ghoul

Behaviour: No strong opinions, but has disdain for elaborate costumes.

Abilities: Reserving judgement until she's seen their full kit.

Wyrd

Behaviour: Stop mouthing off and fight.

Abilities: Slippery. Clever. Don't underrate resilience.

Dime

Behaviour: N/A

Abilities: Versatile and hard to predict. Cautious of the possibility that they have more abilities than they've shown.

[bedlamsbard]

I got into your fics because of Thor and Loki.. and while I love the world (and you basically sold me on Steve/Nat) I am still very curious about the twins. What made you go the prophecy route?

Oh, man, this was almost three years ago -- with rare exception I use the same background and worldbuilding across stories, so while the prophecy is introduced back in Morning, it's also mentioned in the Yonderverse. It's just that Yonder isn't really a story where that kind of thing features, and Morning's all about destiny/fate/timelines, which is part of the reason it's in there. IIRC, the other reason was pushback against some of the meta/fic I'd seen in the Thor fandom back then, since that was still when I was still reading in the fandom. I wanted to take Loki (and Thor) out of operating in a very human realm, where there were very direct parallels to things that could happen to, like...normal people, and put them back into a mythical realm where stuff like the prophecy was taken very seriously. But it's important that it's also an ambiguous prophecy that could as easily have gone the other way, which I don't think has actually been revealed anywhere, because the prophecy has been most directly dealt with in a chapter of Morning that hasn't been posted yet, but has been written since 2021. So I've had this all figured out since then, I just haven't been able to use that chapter yet. (It is a full-chapter altverse flashback, and it has to follow a present-day chapter.)

Hela is actually the first person to mention it in Morning:

She had known for five centuries before her exile that they were coming, her little brothers. Odin’s sons, battle-born, battle-worn. Prophecy could leave many things to chance – the finer details, mostly – but the broad strokes were always certain. Hela had sat in the hall of the vǫlur and known by the end of the chief seeress’s first stanza that it was the end of her. As soon as Odin knew of the new prophecy, he would have no more use for her, not when Asgard’s wyrd said he would have his matched pair of perfect princes. She had slaughtered all of the vǫlur for that, hoping that Odin would never hear of the prophecy, but the vǫlur were like the wyrd they spun out – no one, not even the goddess of death, could truly destroy them. Sooner or later a vǫlva would come to Asgard bearing the Norns’ words, though it had been, Hela assumed, after her exile, since she had no memory of the vǫlur’s return. Even one of the Aesir could not stop fate, merely delay it. Fate, like death, was inevitable.

This introduces my take on the volur and the first hint of the prophecy, that it pretty significantly predates Thor's and Loki's births (by fourteen centuries), and that Hela is the only one that knows the entire thing because she killed the volur who spoke about it. It's also mentioned very briefly in Yonder and at one point Yonder went into more detail and I cut that because it's not thematically important in Yonder the way it is in Morning.

“You didn’t know?” Sif said to the Valkyrie. “It’s a very famous story.” “Yes,” Loki said, “as in ‘story,’ as in ‘fictional,’ as in ‘Odin made it all up.’” He ground his teeth and looked irritated. “What story?” the Valkyrie said pointedly. Sif shot a glance at Thor and Loki, then explained, “About Odin’s sons being born at the beginning and end of the Battle of Jotunheim. There’s supposed to be a prophecy – Odin’s sons, battle-born –”

So it features pretty significantly in an unposted chapter of Morning, here are the two most relevant sections. (Farbauti's a volva but was not at Urdarbrunnr when Hela did her slaughter, and isn't aware that it was Hela who did it.)

The giantess didn’t look at him. “Twenty-four centuries ago the vǫlur were slaughtered at Urðarbrunnr.  I wasn’t there with my sisters that day, but I know what prophecy it was they sang into being.  It did not come to Asgard, I think, for many centuries afterward, nor was the whole of it brought to Valaskjalf for the ears of Odin One-eye.” Frigga hesitated before she shook her head slightly. “What prophecy?” Loki said. “What – the prophecy?” “Odin’s sons, battle-born,” Farbauti quoted softly. “There’s more, but that’s the part you and Odin cared about, isn’t it?  That he might have his matched pair of perfect princes.  Never mind that you might never hear the rest of it, because the vǫlur that still trusted Asgard brought those stanzas to you in time, but those who would never trust Asgard again brought the rest to me.” No single vǫlva ever got the whole of a prophecy, Loki knew.  Individuals got bits and pieces, but it took many vǫlur to piece together the entirety of one.  Since the massacre at Urðarbrunnr he didn’t know if more than a handful had been completed; most of the known prophecies dated from before the slaughter. “They are my sons,” Frigga said, her voice hard. “Yes,” Farbauti said, “but they could have been mine.  Both of them could have been mine, your blood-son and his twin.”

and then a little later, after they argue for a while and some other stuff is discussed.

Farbauti nodded, then crossed back to the brazier with the kettle and poured herself another cup of spiced wine.  As she spooned honey into it, she said, “When the vǫlur see the future, it isn’t set.  We see possible futures – certain things that will happen, because they’re part of the pattern laid out in the great tapestry the Norns make of our wyrd, but there are many ways that those threads can be woven.  And those threads themselves are always being spun.  Yes, our own choices make up our ørlǫg along with our natures, but so do the choices of all those who come before us.  What was possible when the vǫlur speak the great patterns of the Norns into being is not always possible a century later, let alone ten.  The possibilities narrow as the cloth is worked and the thread of our ørlǫg is spun.” She set her hip against the table and drank deep from her cup, then quoted softly, “Odin’s sons, battle-born, battle-worn – that’s the version you know, isn’t it?” Loki nodded shortly.  “Everyone says Thor and I were born at the beginning and end of the Battle of Jotunheim.” “I can’t speak for your brother,” Farbauti said, “though I don’t know that there’s any reason to lie about that –” “There isn’t,” Frigga said. “Thor was born when the Bifrost brought the last of the einherjar to Jotunheim.” Farbauti smiled, thin. “Your other son took his first breath as the first of my people died.” Loki felt the muscle in his jaw jump again, but glanced upwards at his mother anyway.  He tried to make his voice light as he said, “So Thor’s still older than me.” Frigga hesitated for a brief instant, then said, “Sixteen minutes.  I scried it to be certain.”  She leaned down and pressed her lips briefly to the crown of his head, making Farbauti’s brows knit a little – a somewhat disconcerting effect on her Jotun features. Loki let his breath out slowly, suddenly dizzy with relief.  “So we did come into this world together,” he said.  He had been afraid to ask before, to find one more part of his reality crumbling around him; having it back… “Yes,” Farbauti said.  When they both looked up at her, she shrugged. “It’s their wyrd.  Odin’s sons, battle-born, battle-worn,” she quoted, the rhythm of the familiar words a little different than an Asgardian would have used.  What she said next was entirely unfamiliar.  “Or Laufey’s sons, battle-won, bone-born.” Loki heard the sound he had made only after it passed his lips, a soft grunt like he had punched in the gut.  You didn’t have to be a vǫlva to interpret that. His mother’s grip was so tight on his shoulders that he suspected he would find bruises there later. Farbauti made a gesture to toss the matter aside. “It’s done.  What might be is now only what could have been, and ultimately what never was.  That path was closed to all of us at least a century before your birth.  Laufey never worked up the courage to challenge Asgard on its own ground, just proxy wars.”  She smiled a little, idle.  “Or I suppose he might have taken more than Odin’s eye that day, though I doubt it.  Regardless –”  She shrugged.  “It’s done.” “Yes,” Frigga said softly. “It’s done.”

The Asgardians never knew the other version of the prophecy. That is actually a reference to a What If comic called What If Thor Was Raised by Frost Giants, where Laufey does kill Odin and take Thor to raise him himself.

Part of the reason the prophecy is in Morning is to set up the idea that there are things that are going to happen, though they're conceptualized in different ways depending who says it -- obviously the Asgardians and the Jotuns think of fate very differently than (my version of) the TVA, since Mobius gives a long explanation earlier in Morning. But those things are going to happen aren't always going to happen in the same way or in predictable ways, so the prophecy sets up that Loki and Thor were always going to be raised together as twins, but not necessarily in the context that they were. And again, part of that is just to put the Asgardians and company into a non-human and very mythical context, that they accept is governed by other powers.

All of this is also true for the Yonderverse, it just doesn't come up because it's not really relevant there. There are brief mentions of the prophecy, and then Urdarbrunnr and the volur are mentioned a few times (they'd both feature in the Horizon sequel), but it's just not thematically relevant in the same way it is for Morning. But it's still part of my worldbuilding.

[cb-writes-stuff]

4- Nauth and Ven

I love hearing about these two :3

4. How would they describe each other if asked? Physically? In personality?

“What’s Nauth like?” Let’s see. He’s kinda short, but not much more than me. Shorter than most guys I know. Has a pretty sharp nose. In general, he kinda looks like the night sky. …Actually, now that I think about it, most folks would call him attractive. His personality scares people off though.

He’s got a work ethic to go to Utmost and back. It’s unsettling. No one in the Kemen works so hard. He’s not all bad, though. He’s pretty funny, cares about people, and he’s pretty smart, too. But… well, he can be a bit withdrawn. Can’t blame him though. He’s not like that with me, his brother. At least I don’t think he is.

Describe Ven? Well… He’s pretty average, honestly. No offense, but it’s true. Tanned skin, bright eyes, short hair, broad nose. Taller than me by a hand or two. Pretty lean. The girls like him.

…I wouldn’t call him a skirt chaser. He’s not like that. He knows when to stop. But Wyrd, he doesn’t know when not to start. He’ll flirt with just about anyone. …That’s not entirely fair. There’s more to him than that. He’ll shut up when you just want him to listen. And even when he teases, he won’t outright insult you. And I wouldn’t trade him for anything. If you wanna say he’s not my brother, then, respectfully, you should go to Utmost.

[justreadertings]

Hi, hello, is this Sweet Understanding? No. It is not. My deepest apologizes. However, I was inspired and wrote a baby oneshot that may turn into a couple of oneshots in this AU. Anyway, I super adore this one and only have one more scene to finish for SU so I hope that will be out soon! All my love- Magee

TW: implied miscarriage, mentions of cheating, talks of pregnancy and labor complications

WC: 2324

Eire

Aelin’s whole body ached, and yet, she’d never been happier. She’d been a mother for a whole three days now, and it was the greatest thing the gods could have given her. Her sweet Eire lay sleeping against her chest, breathing softly. Aelin made sure to settle into the pillows as best as she could without disturbing her daughter. She could watch her child sleep for hours and never bore it. Only the soft rapping at her open bedroom door took her out of it. 

“Fireheart, do you need anything?” 

Aelin’s heart glowed more than it ever had. Her boyfriend’s face was nearly as exhausted as she was, but he never missed a beat. He was so good to her, to their Eire. 

“I’m ok,” she said. Rowan’s green eyes swept over her, as they had constantly since she’d gone into labor. “I’m ok, you buzzard, now stop worrying so much. It’s bad for the baby,” she quipped.

“Is it?” He lifted a brow. 

“Ummhmm,” she hummed. 

Rowan came around to her side of the bed, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll make sure to keep it in mind.”

Aelin patted the bed beside her. “Come here, come lay with me.”

Rowan obliged, instantly. She nestled into him, and a wave of contentment wafted over her. She hadn’t exactly had the easiest labor- hadn’t exactly had an easy pregnancy for that matter. Her entire body felt sore and tense. She was unfamiliar with it, if she had to admit, and the only time she felt truly at home in it was in the familiarity of her boyfriend’s arms.

“You’re so beautiful,” Rowan whispered against her forehead. “Eire gets it from you.” 

Aelin smiled softly. She’d never really had a family before this, and the comfort of it had her more at peace than she’d ever been. Aelin’s eyes began to close, her breathing turning soft. 

But their peace only lasted a few minutes, as a knock on the door jolted her awake. Both she and Rowan were quick to make sure their newborn wasn’t disturbed. 

“What time is it?” she asked, dread filling her.

Rowan looked at the clock, and let out a sigh. Aelin knew what that meant. “It’s noon.”

Her head fell backwards. “Wyrd save me,” she whispered.

Rowan pressed a kiss to both her head and then their daughter’s before getting up to get the door. Aelin pressed a million kisses to the top of Eire’s unfairly soft head, and breathed her in. 

Just a few moments later, brown hair and eyes were standing in her bedroom doorway. 

“There’s my munchkin,” Sam said.

Aelin forced a painful smile. She knew this would be hard… but she’d never expected it to be this hard. The whole situation was complicated. 

Rowan came into her life when they were teenagers, and they’d fallen in love instantly. They had this… soul connection. But circumstances with Aelin’s foster care never really worked in her favor, and after three years of dating she was shipped away the summer before her senior year. Rowan had promised that when they graduated, he’d go to wherever she was and they would be together. 

But then he’d gotten an internship all the way in Dornelle, and Aelin could not give up the opportunity to go to college. The money she’d saved up and the constant moving meant she could only afford to go to in-state schooling. But now, seven years later, they were living together with their baby. 

Well… Aelin, Rowan and Sam’s baby. Aelin had met Sam in her third year of college, and they had dated, gotten engaged, and then promptly broke up two months before Aelin found out she was pregnant. Which was right around the time Rowan Whitethorn walked into her favorite coffee shop and back into her life forever. 

And he wasn’t going away this time. Aelin planned to keep him forever. She liked to say he was “baby trapped”, but he didn’t think that was too funny. Aelin knew their story was strange, that most men wouldn’t fall in love with a woman who was carrying someone else’s child. But she was Rowan’s and Rowan was her’s. Rowan told her Eire was her, and anything that was her was something he loved.

Rowan had already lost one child. He’d told Aelin that she and Eire were his second chance at happiness. That they were the family he always feared he’d never get. 

But that family also, sadly, included Sam.

Sam had come to the hospital the day she was born, and had made plans to see her today. When Aelin asked when, Sam had just said he’d “stop by.” At two this morning, when Aelin was up feeding Eire, she’d received a text that Sam would “stop by” around noon. Rowan was doing a very good job of not strangling him.

Sam came over and looked down at Eire. 

Aelin smiled. “Gods, isn’t she beautiful?” To his credit, Sam did agree. “You want to hold her?” 

Sam nodded, and Aelin pressed another hundred kisses to her baby before passing her to Sam. When she was sure he had her, Aelin looked over to Rowan for assistance. He was by her side in an instant, and took her by the elbow to help her stand. Pain laced down her sides, down her back. All of her insides were mush, and sweat beaded on her brow. 

She was finally standing, albeit leaning into Rowan slightly. 

“Gods,” Sam said behind her. “You look awful.”

Both she and Rowan turned to look at the man. Aelin’s fingers dug into Rowan’s forearm. “Push a baby out of your vagina and we’ll talk.”

Rowan snorted. 

“Can you help me?” she gestured to their bathroom. Aelin had actually moved her side of the bed- even though she hated it- to be closer to their on-suite. Rowan slid his arm around her, and pain again sliced through her. Her doctor said she’d have to accept that her own healing would take time. Her pregnancy had had its fair share of complications, and she’d had several surgeries in the aftermath, all while dealing with the intense fear that her child was not ok. Eire had gotten stuck on her pelvic bone during labor, and Aelin was sure that her life was flashing before her eyes when her doctor began pushing and prying to get her out. 

But they were here, they were ok, they were healthy and above all else- alive. But Aelin really, really, really didn’t need to be mocked about it. 

“You don’t want me to help?” Sam asked. 

Aelin just kept on her way to the bathroom. Sam hadn’t exactly been thrilled about Rowan being in Aelin’s life. He’d been difficult through the whole thing, complaining that Rowan was at every event with her, that he was there for the birth, even though Aelin had invited Sam and he hadn’t shown up. Sam arrived an hour later, and met Eire when Aelin was in surgery, so neither she, nor Rowan was there to give the ok. 

But Eire was Sam’s too, and she just had to accept that. Sam, however, had to accept Eire was also Rowan’s. 

Once Aelin had cursed at Rowan to let her pee in peace, she could hear the men sit in uncomfortable silence on the other side of the door. Despite them now being in each other’s lives for nearly a year, they hadn’t exactly warmed up to each other. Rowan was adamant that Sam hadn’t treated her right, and wasn’t a huge fan. He only played nice because he knew how difficult life could be for both her and Eire if they outwardly hated each other. 

Sam had bitched about Rowan since the day they met, claiming that Rowan was just a “rebound”. He’d actually ruined her baby shower by giving a far too detailed toast about how, despite them being broken up, the baby had to have gotten there “somehow” in front of all of her closest friends. Rowan had nearly killed him until his best friends took care of the tipsy baby-daddy so he could be there for her. 

Aelin’s emotions had been so up and down then, she’d cried for hours after the party before marching over to Sam’s apartment to cuss him out. Ever since then, they’d all been very stiff around each other. Nearly everything they spoke about was baby-related. Aelin thought that was for the best. 

After she was done, her body was furious that she’d done anything out of the norm, and cramps began to invade her lower half. She called out for Rowan who was there in seconds. 

“Is something wrong?”

She shook her head, hands braced on the counter. “It’s like last night,” she told him.

He ran a soothing hand down her back, and of course, Eire began to cry again. Aelin hung her head for a moment, before moving back to the bedroom. She sat on the end of her bed, and gestured for Sam to give her the baby.

  “What’s wrong?” He asked.

Aelin’s finger lightly caressed Eire’s tiny cheek. “I don’t know, I just fed her.”

“Did you do it right?”

She looked up at him to see if he was joking. He wasn’t. “Yes, Sam. I fed her right.”

He leaned back to rest against the wall. “I just didn’t know. Big guy over here made me leave when that boob expert came in.”

“The lactation consultant?” Rowan asked, and Aelin could hear the frustration in his voice. 

“Whatever.”

Eire still fussed, so Aelin rocked and cooed at her, and even smelled her, but she didn’t need to be changed. After a few minutes, Aelin looked at Rowan and offered up a smile.

Her boyfriend sighed. “It’s not going to work every time,” he told her, reaching for the baby. 

Aelin pursed her lips. “You’ll see.”

Rowan rolled his eyes, but, just as Aelin implied, he began to hum to their daughter. He hummed and held her right to his chest, where she settled and promptly fell back asleep. 

“Hate to say I told you so, but…” Aelin mused.

“Quiet,” he warned, playfully.

Sam was watching them with narrowed eyes. Aelin turned to him. “I hate that she’s so fussy right now. I really wanted you to get a chance to be with her.” 

Despite how complicated everything was, she would never deny someone as important as Eire’s father the chance to love her. Aelin knew one day, everyone Eire ever met would love her, but that should start with the people who were to raise her. 

“You don’t find it weird that you took her out of my hands to give to him?”

Aelin frowned. “I don’t find anything weird about one of her parents holding her, no.”

Sam huffed. “Maybe you’re just too hormonal to see how fucked up this is, but maybe in a few days you’ll come to your senses.”

“Excuse me?” Aelin asked. “If you’re implying that I’m not doing what’s best for my child you’ve got a whole lot coming.”

Sam shook his head. “I just think that maybe you’re trying to punish me.”

Aelin narrowed her brows, and Rowan watched with careful eyes while still rocking Eire. “Trying to punish you?”

“Yeah. You, doing all this, messing with everything… I already apologized for what happened with Lysandra-”

Aelin stood- which hurt like hell, but was necessary to get her point across. “What ‘happened with Lysandra’ was that you asked her to sleep with you, and when she said no, you called her crazy and messaged her boyfriend to flip the story. And when she told me, you gaslit me and tried to make me think I made it up.” Aelin could nearly see red. “And after a fifteen hour labor, three surgeries, and two days with no sleep, do you really think this is a fight you want to start with me? Because I survived all that, and let me tell you, Sam Courtland, I can survive you too.”

Sam shook his head at her. “You know what, I’ll just be absent from our daughter's life, just like you want.”

“What I want is a cherry soda, and about six bowls of Fruit Loops. What I need is for you to look at every single invitation I’ve sent to you about our daughter’s checkups, and how included I’ve made you in all this. What I need is for you to grow up and be a father. If not, there’s the door!”

With that, Aelin sat back down on the bed, and stuck out her arms so she could hold her baby. Rowan gently placed Eire back in her arms, and all of her pent up anger melted away. Rowan pressed his lips to her head, and she was very confident that she desperately needed that. 

Sam left about two minutes later with an annoyed, “call you tomorrow.” 

Aelin only waved a dramatic goodbye, promising that she’d have a real talk about arguing in front of their daughter on another day. 

Rowan braced his hand around her waist as they sat on the edge of their bed. “I’m proud of you, Fireheart.”

All of her fight gave out to exhaustion, and she leaned against him. “Eire is three days old and I’ve already yelled in front of her.”

Rowan shook his head. “You weren’t yelling. And besides, I’m sure she’ll want to see how fierce her mama is.”

Aelin smiled against his shoulder. “Thank you. You’re so calm.” She glanced up at him. “I might need some of that.”

“All in due time, my love.”

Aelin leaned in and Rowan bent down to place a kiss on her lips. With the puppy snores of the baby in her arms, and the soft kiss from the love of her life, Aelin knew despite the chaos and the exhaustion- her life was looking pretty great. 

-

Yeah, how am I NOT gonna write more of them? Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! mwah!!

Taglist:

@leiawritesstories​

@tomtenadia​

@fireheart-violet​

@backtobl4ck​

@morganofthewildfire​

@rowaelinismyotp​

@aelinchocolatelover​

@thegreyj​

@foughtconquered​

@swankii-art-teacher​

@booklover242​

@stardelia​

@numbers-colors-fashion​

@bookcide​

@viajandosinalas​

@rowanaelinn​

@elentiyawhitethorn​

@emily-gsh​

@athena127​

@captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship​

[rufousnmacska]

Here is part two - Dorian’s pov - of this anon-requested manorian head canon. Thanks to @itach-i for beta reading and fangirling 🥰

Hope you like it!

***

Orynth was months ago, and yet to Dorian it sometimes felt like years. The sickening feel of the collar on his skin, the voice of his father commanding him to kill a guard, the voice of his father saving him from the wyrd keys. The dreams left him dizzy with confusion, left him wondering if he could repair the Havilliard name and the damage his father had wrought. On the dreamless nights, he woke feeling rested but hollow. A new sense of emptiness as if something was missing.

It wasn’t until he walked in on a quiet moment between Chaol and Yrene one day that he realized what that empty feeling might be. His friends were hugging, their baby son cuddled between them. And oddly, it made him think of her.

He’d thought of Manon often since they’d parted in Terrasen. More often than he’d admitted to anyone, including himself. Of course he worried about her after the loss of her coven. But Dorian had kept those thoughts fleeting and mostly businesslike - how a treaty might impact the witches, when the wyverns would be old enough to train.

The fact that her face, her scent, her eyes were the only things he imagined when pleasuring himself… that meant nothing. He was simply too overwhelmed with work and in need of release.

But seeing his friends, he knew. He missed her. Desperately. Whatever they had was not over. Not even close.

When his mother approached him one day about his upcoming birthday, Dorian snapped. She left his office in tears and it took two days for her to forgive him. He blamed his horrible behavior on a headache, unable to tell her the truth.

His last birthday he’d been a slave to a valg prince. A torturer and murderer. He tried to kill one of his best friends. Or so he’d been told. The knowledge made him sick and fed the self doubt that seemed to be growing by the day.

No, he did not think a birthday ball would raise the morale of the castle and city. No, the presence of many, beautiful, eligible ladies would not cheer him up.

But she had not listened. Planning was underway and he replied by burying himself in his work. Ignoring the seed of hope that maybe the Witch Queen would receive an invitation.

The night before the festivities, Dorian lay in his bed unable to sleep. Dark thoughts and half memories raced through his head whenever he closed his eyes. No matter how hard he tried, no matter the tonic Yrene had made, sleep was impossible. The only time his tense muscles relaxed was when his thoughts turned to her.

Once, he almost drifted off. Imagining…

Manon walked into the ballroom, her silken hair in a braided crown, a red cape trailing behind. He left the person he was talking to and made his way through the crowd toward her. Their eyes were locked. The music had stopped. And yet, the more people he pushed aside, the farther away she became. Her smile never faltered and her golden gaze stayed on him. But the crowd was pulling him away. The crowd, the people, his people were pulling him back, tearing at his crown, his ornate clothing, shouting that he was not their king, shouting that they deserved a better king, one who hadn’t abandoned them, one who wouldn’t torture them, one that-

Dorian shook violently awake, a scream in his throat and both hands clutching his neck.

When the music began, Dorian swallowed his shame and painted a smile on his face. No doubt the line of women wanting to dance with him was long. And full of all the same greedy-eyed courtiers, who, like his mother, noticed no difference in him from last year to this.

He held back the grimace that came with the thought, and once again wished for her. Her presence that calmed him, made him feel real, and true.

He’d been a fool these past months, trying to convince himself that they were some sort of ephemeral thing. Like a butterfly that lives for a season and vanishes. He wanted the butterfly. Not to cage, but to have it fly to him, and him to fly to her.

Dorian shook his head. What the hell was he thinking? Comparing Manon to a butterfly? He was a fool.

The dance ended and he bowed to the Lady from a holding he’d forgotten. And just then, something prickled over his skin. He turned, looked up, and there she was.

Manon, in a red dress unlike anything his poor imagination could conjure.

She glided down the stairway, every step graceful. Just like his dream, their gaze never broke. He almost stopped walking, expecting this to turn into the nightmare of last night. But the smile she wore now was different. Not as broad or bright. This smile was soft, almost shy. Beyond description. It made his heart thrum.

They both stopped when they were eye to eye and he liked this position. It felt right. His equal, his queen.

“Hello witchling.” That he could speak surprised him.

Manon took a breath and said, “Hello princeling.”

Before she faded away, he pulled her into his arms and into a dance. He moved them away from the crowd and everyone disappeared from his awareness. Everyone but her.

“This is the best birthday present I could have asked for,” he whispered in her ear.

Manon wrinkled her nose slightly. “Your birthday?”

That she was here without knowing made it feel like fate. She shivered at his touch and he struggled to stay focused. “I’m going to pretend you knew.”

A moment of dancing passed and Manon noticed the new crest adorning his jacket. When he directed her to the mosaic on the wall, she froze. He’d had it designed to honor their sacrifice, not knowing if or when Manon would ever see it. Hoping. He’d hoped she would. And now she had tears forming in her eyes.

“It’s nothing,” Dorian said. “Just a token of our appreciation for what they gave.”

“It’s not nothing,” she replied, swallowing the tears before they fell.

Now it was his turn to freeze. Manon rested her warm hand on his cheek. It was soft, unsteady. But real. The image of a butterfly landing in his hand flitted through his mind. He blinked it away and turned to kiss her palm.

Dorian took Manon’s hand and led her from the ballroom. Within minutes of back halls and hidden passageways they were in his room.

Alone.

Together. Finally.

As they embraced, he drew a finger under her eyes. She hadn’t been sleeping. Judging by the darkness of her normally pale skin, she hadn’t slept well in some time.

“I don’t want to sleep yet,” she said, knowing what he was about to suggest.

He could hear the music rising up through the balcony. “And I don’t want to take off this dress yet.” It was the truth. She was stunning.

So they danced in each other’s arms until Manon turned her face up to his and he kissed her.

They were awake together all night and fell asleep at dawn. He spent the day curled around her, not caring that they never left the bed.

She was here and that’s all that mattered.

[rebelrebelwrites]

Fic Friday! ❤️ Rebel’s Weekly Fic Recs

~ Haladriel Week Edition (Part 1) ~

Aiight y'all, I took a week off and you DELIVERED the @haladrielweek GOODS. Like, DAMN. Rest assured, I'll be recc'ing stuff from Haladriel Week for many weeks to come; I'm still getting caught up on devouring all of your amazing fics, artwork, Tumblr and Twitter posts, and more! Thanks again to @formerlyir for putting this whole shindig together and all of you for your amazing contributions.

Without further ado—as always, this week's recs are...

As always, please mind the tags on any recommended story for your own personal preferences.

+++

The Classic You’ve Heard Of But Somehow Haven’t Read Yet: like magnets work, only drawn to thee by @bluetiefling

What you need to know going in:

As I started reading this fic, which the author described as her first in years, I knew it was an instant classic! One-shot, post-S1, this story sees Galadriel sneaking into Sauron's war camp in an ill-advised assassination attempt. It's pretty immediately clear her heart's not in it, not really—the bid to kill him, anyway. 👀 Things go from awry to full of angst with a cloying, desperate, spicy edge from there, and the angst has claws. In the best way. And the smut? 🔥 Like I said... instant classic.

Complete, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr, Twitter, and AO3.

+++

The AU You Need to Immerse Yourself In Because, Well, Wow: the rules of you by sawdustdiamonds

What you need to know going in:

The hook for me with this fic was immediately the unique setting and the premise; a Victorian-era AU, in it, Halbrand owns a gambling hall, and Galadriel is, of course, a Lady—they meet when he catches her counting cards. 😆 As always, I love how Galadriel barrels into things guns blazing, and this fic renders her (and his) characterization perfectly. Without revealing too much, they strike a mutually beneficial deal with her sharp skills, and the instant attraction, sexual tension, and ultimate devotion soars.

Complete, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on AO3.

+++

The Complete But Never Forgotten Masterpiece: when the world was so young by @hazelmaines

What you need to know going in:

Something to know about me: I am a SUCKER for childhood sweethearts almost as much as ETL. Combine those two??? An immediate sign me the hell up (so much so that I've written it myself 😆), and that was my exact reaction when I first set eyes on this HW fic from favorite @hazelmaines. Set in the First Age, Hal and Gal meet as youths, Mairon and Artanis, and grow in life and love together before Mairon's fall, only to meet again on the Sundering Seas. Achingly sweet and somber in equal measure, I won't say too much else... just read and revel in the mythical, cyclical beauty of this fic.

Complete, Mature

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr and AO3.

+++

The WIP That Will Wreck You (In the Best Way): all your pain will end here by @bad-surprise

What you need to know going in:

So first, I need to say that it was incredibly difficult to pick just one of the many fics from @bad-surprise to highlight from Haladriel Week, because she blessed us with SCADS of them, and I was torn between this one and another WIP that I decided to save for next week, but I picked this one because the premise and first chapter is a jolt; a shock to the system in its heady horror, and I'm itching to see what happens next. Long story short: Galadriel is a therapist, and her patient, Halbrand, is in desperate need of therapy for his homicidal tendencies. Can she help him before she becomes his next victim? I don't know, but again—I can't wait to find out.

WIP, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr, Twitter, and AO3.

+++

The Can't Stop Consuming No Matter What Time It Is Fic: it's a dangerous game by @wyrd-syster

What you need to know going in:

So this story is complete but I think the category holds because HOT. DAMN. I hung onto every word of this masterpiece and somehow simultaneously sped through it with an almost feverish fervor; it was—is—just that goddamn compelling. Reading it almost felt like caving to compulsion; an irresistible pull into the world with little mercy and no way out but forward, but you're happy you're there. In this Venetian-style, Jekyll & Hyde-esque AU, Galadriel is stalked by one man that is moreso two: Halbrand and Sauron both, a beast intent on a bloody romance that may be more than he bargained for. I don't want to say too much in case of spoilers, but... the vivid imagery, the gorgeous prose (as always with @wyrd-syster's impeccable works), and the ever-present, thrumming fear in this fic is nothing short of outstanding. Just, wow.

Complete, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr, Twitter, and AO3.

+++

🤩🤩🤩

Me at all these fics:

Don’t see your story on this list yet? Keyword: yet. Please don’t fret! I can only recommend so many each week, but I am always looking for more stuff to read, share, and generally shower with love, so please feel free to reply with your own fics or your personal faves. I have plenty more to recommend… ❤️

Until next week!

[windsofcourage]

— & . amity celebration / info & . starter call ! (CAP: 3, castmates exempt !)

Please reply to this starter call with your preferred event participation! It makes it easier to write starters <3

Link will be relatively active all around Arcanus Isle for the Amity Celebration! You can find him participating in the following events and places:

The Blossom Dance Link can be found observing the Blossom Dance, and may even participate! He's a great cook, and would prepare meals for people who stop by. The Ceredae and Moonelope are also on his radar. Most likely, you'll find Link tailing both creatures to try and take a picture! Link can also be found looking for Wyrd Fae. They would remind him of the Koroks and Blupees. With your muse's help, he might even be able to find the Wyrd Fae's GOLDEN COIN as a keepsake!

The Tea-Lip Party Beneath his calm exterior, Link is a master of chaos. He will try out most things in the name of fun and exploration, and while he would express some level of hesitation towards the alchemical drinks ... he would also still drink them. (This is also true of Logus Fruit confections.)

The Tapestry of Traditions Link cannot remember his past or his family... but he does have them. Attempts to create a Sovenance Tapestry will result in no tapestry at all. Trying to trigger memories with Link may result in ... various levels of success.

The White Nights Link can be found during the White Nights at all hours of the day. Does he sleep? Has he been avoiding it? Does he even NEED sleep? Great questions, you're more than welcome to ask.

[wizzycore]

Nonhuman Showdown Round 1

Why you should vote for each of them and full art below!

Tatiana Starwalker (species: wooden construct, by @tatiana-starwalker art by @kimberly-earthfriend)

"They're hubristic, have funky-fresh fashion, paint their face on every morning, they take themselves apart for pranks or to win fights, this little guy is everything to me. They're built as a monument to grief and then got sent away by the very person that made them due to the fact that Starwalker cannot meet the expectations of being who the original was in life. They are so defined by their connections to others despite not having humanity, being so caught up in the Being of personhood that they simply Are. Also Starwalker is very pretty :>"

Quinn Soulthorn (species: dryad, by @sentient-cloud)

"Quinn Soulthorn, a dryad of one of those spooky death trees that seem to be everywhere. He grew up in Avalon’s Wyrd over the corpse of one an unlucky member of the wild hunt, the spine of which makes up his harp, along with his own wood. He’s delighted to be allowed into Ravenwood and learn about the world outside of the Wyrd, even if he’s still really learning how people work. He’s not beating the unseelie allegations.

People tend to find him off putting. He’s far too eager to tell people about the beauty and inevitability of death, and he brings a kind of “stop raising so much undead you’re disturbing the role decomposition plays in the perpetual cycle of existence” vibe the other necromancers don’t like. Merle is especially wary of him, after all, was the Wyrd not the source of the horned crown that damned Avalon and introduced his pupil to Shadow magic in the first place?

He’s doing his best, he isn’t as oblivious to people’s hesitancy towards him as some may think. Additional fun facts: his pet “ghulture” is an undead Avalon crow that hung around the spooky death tm graveyard he popped up in. Whenever he takes root he leaves behind a mushroom circle. He even has trans swag. TtM (tree to male)"