#THEY ARE ALL GROWN UP NOW 😭😭😭

[lucyshypemaster]

we genuinely need more platonic male-female relationships like the one brynne and aiden have

[fcb-mv33]

I am sobbing😭

[heavensincarnate1111]

just got reminded that percy, annabeth, and grover are no longer those snarky, little shit 12 year olds we all found ourselves in when we were kids and they’re now older teenagers (in grover’s case pushing 30?) and are pretty much adults, about to go off to college and go their separate ways in the next couple of books

like what do you MEAN percy isn’t 13 anymore with a face full of baby fat, crooked teeth and pimples scattering his face… wdym annabeth isn’t a lanky 14 year old girl who knows a little too much about the hoover dam, with unruly curly hair and too long, awkward limbs… WHAT DO YOU MEAN GROVER ISNT THAT COWARDLY 12 YEAR OLD SATYR (technically like 28..) WITH A NOTICEABLE LIMP AND STUBBLE THAT REFUSES TO FILL OUT

What do you MEAN these kids who i used to see has role models have grown up with me and are now literally around my age… like i can’t cope omg

[phillips-sisters]

Savannah and Isla Phillips, along with Peter Phillips and Zara Tindall, walk into Westminster Abbey for the annual 2023 Christmas Carol Celebration, December 8th 2023 🤍💎💓

[whumpypepsigal]

you know the show is going to be good when it starts off with whump… i introduce you to my new blorbo peter, an FBI agent who gets wrapped up in some conspiracy plot and is protecting/rescuing a civilian. he gets injured in an explosion + run over by a car in the first 10mins of ep 1, has physical and emotional-traumatic scars, gets shot at + beaten up + punched MULTIPLE TIMES throughout the series, major delicious whump with aftercare in ep 6. plus a cute slow burn. it’s an old style spy thriller and it’s (whumpy) goooood.

[graff-aganda]

No no ikr. The ENT fandom is so quiet around here. And honestly I'm just excited to see art of my favourite dudes, because we rarely get fanart around here, and when we do it's usually Trip or T'Pol solely. Malcolm gets left in the dust quite a lot so I'm happy you drew him as well - and so well done too!

Anyway, ramble over, lol.

OMG... Well I think I can see why a lot of fanart is of Trip and/or T'pol (those two seem like they're doing some heavy lifting for the show/are just a lot of people's faves. I've got a few half baked ideas in mind for them myself.) but the rest of the crew as a whole do deserve more love I think! :]

[hawkwidows]

SHORT HAIR MIKE FOR THE EPILOGUE I KEEP WINNING

[skyblueartt]

You ever see a piece of media and the feeling of nostalgia just GUT PUNCHES you and squeeeeeezes your heart

[acourtofquestions]

"You'll come back," Manon said.

It sounded like more of a threat than anything

Dorian smirked. "Would you miss me if I didn't?"

Manon didn't reply. He didn't know why he expected her to.

He'd taken all of a step, when Asterin clasped his shoulder. "In and out, quick as you can," she warned him. "Take care of Narene." Worry indeed shone in the Second's gold-flecked black eyes. Dorian bowed his head. "With my life," he promised as he approached her mount and grasped the dangling reins. He didn't fail to miss the gratitude that softened Asterin's features. Or that Manon had already turned away from him.

A fool to start down this path with her. He should have known better.

The hours that passed were some of the longest of Manon's existence.

From anticipation, she told herself. Of what she had to do.

Abraxos, unsurprisingly, found them within an hour, his reins sliced from the struggle he'd no doubt waged and won with Sorrel. He waited, however, beside Manon in silence, wholly focused upon the gate where Dorian and Narene had vanished.

Time dripped by. The king's sword was constant weight at her side. She cursed herself for needing to prove-to him, to herself-that she refused to let him go into Morath for practical, ordinary reasons. Erawan wasn't at the Ferian Gap. It'd be safer. Somewhat. But if the Matrons were there … That was why he'd gone. To learn if they were. To see if Petrah truly commanded the host there, and how many Ironteeth were present. He had not been trained as a spy, but he'd grown up in a court where people wielded smiles and clothes like weapons. He knew how to blend in, how to listen. How to make people see what they wished to see. She'd sent Elide into the dungeons of Morath, Darkness damn her. Sending the King of Adarlan into the Ferian Gap was no different.

It didn't stop her breath from escaping when Abraxos stiffened, scanning the sky. As if he heard something they couldn't.

And it was the joy that sparked in her mount's eyes that told her.

Moments later, Narene sailed toward them, making a lazy path over the mountains, a dark-haired, pale-skinned rider atop her. He'd truly been able to change parts of himself. Had made his face nearly unrecognizable. And kept it that way.

Asterin rushed toward the mare, and even Manon blinked as her Second threw her arms around Narene's neck. Holding her tight. The mare only leaned her head against Asterin's back and huffed.

Manon hadn't dwelled long on what she'd say.

And as the three hundred Ironteeth witches filed into the hall, some coming off their patrols, Manon half wondered if she should have. They watched her, watched the Thirteen, with a wary disdain.

Their disgraced Wing Leader; their fallen Heir.

When all were gathered, Petrah, still standing in the doorway where she'd appeared, merely said, "My life debt for an audience, Blackbeak."

Manon swallowed, her tongue as dry as paper. Seated atop Abraxos, she could see every shifting movement in the crowd, the wide eyes or hands gripping swords.

"I will not tell you the particulars of who I am," Manon said at last. "For I think you have already heard them."

"Crochan bitch," someone spat.

Manon set her eyes on the Blackbeaks, stone-faced where the others bristled with hatred. It was for them she spoke, for them she had come here.

jacket, then hoisting up her white shirt. Rising in the stirrups to bare her scarred, brutalized abdomen. "She does not lie."

UNCLEAN

There, the word remained stamped. Would always be stamped.

"How many of you," Asterin called out, "have been similarly branded? By your Matron, by your coven leader? How many of you have had your stillborn witchlings burned before you might hold them?"

The silence that fell now was different from before. Shaking shuddering.

Manon glanced at the Thirteen to find tears in Ghislaine's eyes as she took in the brand on Asterin's womb. Tears in the eyes of all of them, who had not known. And it was for those tears, which Manon had never seen, that she faced the host again.

"You will be killed in this war, or after it. And you will never see our homeland again."

"What is it that you want, Blackbeak?" Petrah asked from the archway.

"Ride with us," Manon breathed. "Fly with us.

Against Morath. Against the people who would keep you from your homeland, your future." Murmuring broke out again. Manon pushed ahead, "An Ironteeth-Crochan alliance. Perhaps one to break our curse at last."

Again, that shuddering silence. Like a storm about to break Asterin sat back in the saddle, but kept her shirt open.

"The choice of how our people's future shall be shaped is yours," Manon told each of the witches assembled, all the Blackbeaks who might fly to war and never return. "But I will tell you this." Her hands shook, and she fisted them on her thighs. "There is a better world out there. And I have seen it."

Even the Thirteen looked toward her now.

"I have seen witch and human and Fae dwell together in peace. And it is not weakness to do so, but a strength. I have met kings and queens whose love for their kingdoms, their peoples, is so great that the self is secondary. Whose love for their people is so strong that even in the face of unthinkable odds, they do the impossible."

Manon lifted her chin. "You are my people. Whether my grandmother decrees it so or not, you are my people, and always will be. But I will fly against you, if need be, to ensure that there is a future for those who cannot fight for it themselves. Too long have we preyed on the weak, relished doing so. It is time that we became better than our foremothers." The words she had given the Thirteen months ago. "There is a better world out there," she said again. "And I will fight for it." She turned Abraxos away, toward the plunge behind them. "Will you?"

Manon nodded to Petrah. Eyes bright, the Heir only nodded back. They would be permitted to leave as they had arrived: unharmed.

So Manon nudged Abraxos, and he leaped into the sky, the Thirteen following suit.

Not a child of war. But of peace.

[tariah23]

.

[loud-whistling-yes]

nobody touch me i just read kj encore and SO NO ONE'S GONNA FUCKING TALK ABOUT HACHI COMPETING WITH JOKER TO BECOME A THIEF???????

[ktysh]

a little sneak peak of joshua's diary + more screenies of how the prom went

[foreverinthepagesofhistory]

I can tell that Felipe was holding back happy tears here 🥹💕😭

[emmafallsinlove]

“i am sansa stark of winterfell, this is my home and you cannot frighten me.”

[dewgongs]

ha

[galaxywhale]

the thing with teaching is that the tiniest little things can make my day and today it was watching a 5 year old completely independently use the number line stuck to her desk to work out how to write the answer to her maths question because she knew the answer was 7 but couldn’t remember what a 7 looked like 🥺💜