#Then they made up and became friends

[masquenoire]

Roman didn’t have a lot of friends growing up, at least not inside his social circle. He was too rough, too vulgar for the other socialites to warm to even with his parent’s ‘education’ on how to behave around their sort. He did, however, get along with a few, most notably @babydxhl and @sanguine-salvation, whose company Roman liked enough. @brutalscaled​ was the very first friend he made without his parent’s knowledge, early one spring while holidaying at their country estate. Roman had taken a liking to the scaled boy, preferring his company over the hateful rich kids his parents forced him to befriend. During his teens, Roman would go on to make more friends. One of these new friends was a boy named Garfield Lynns. Angry delinquents at heart, the two got along like a house on fire, committing petty crimes and even acts of arson together. After Roman was caught sleeping with Circe (and summarily disowned), he knew exactly who to turn to and together they burned down the Sionis Estate, their first crime that result in people’s deaths.

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

if only

[jomeimei421]

Felt a bit nostalgic watching RT shut down…Here are the og faves again for old times sake 💙

[dammjamboy]

forgot to ever post this here but i had the most fucked dream the other night and i had to draw it

[flowerakatsuka]

i should've gone to bed like 2 hours ago, but i needed to finished these doodles inspired by @laurzvahll & @wewerebornsextuplets's 18matsu aus. i think kuroba would've figured out their gender stuff a lot faster w/ sol around so they get a new 3rd year look here. ✌️✨

[sprimpfriedrice]

White dungeon meshi fans sound like this to me:

It's extremely fascinating and frightening to me how hateful some of you people are towards shuro, a man who is clearly depicted as japanese, (a man who could look like me or literally any member of my family in real life) for being a normal, complex, and flawed human being.

Why do you single him out for getting frustrated with and mad at laios when chilchuck and marcille do the same literally all the time? What's the difference between them and shuro?

Why do you feel the unnecessary need to protect these white women from a japanese man?

Do you expect that this japanese man is inherently going to have some kind of ugly negative quality that has not been once hinted at canonically? Do you know what that's called? Because i do and it's fucking racism.

You people get scared the moment a character that is a person of color isnt a quiet little model minority or a sweet mammy archetype. You grasp at your pearls the moment they are revealed to have complex personalities and histories; when they feel negative, big emotions that are literally part of the human experience. Or god forbid, when they show romantic interest in a pure, helpless, little white woman.

And when a person of color stops behaving good and docile the way you want, when they decide that theyre not going to put up with a situation that makes them uncomfortable or miserable or RIGHTEOUSLY FURIOUS, they become the bad guy. As seen countless times in the medias demonizing depiction of the Black Lives Matter protests and even of black people who get punished for just living their lives. It happens so often i shouldnt have to reiterate it to you but it somehow keeps flying over your head.

And when that dirty, conniving, perverted, slant eyed, buck toothed, stumpy little japanese man understandably snaps at the white person you guys are projecting onto and all you see is this:

So dont be surprised when i say that id rather kill myself than entrust the safety of my oldest aunts and uncles or my youngest cousins with any of you who act like this. Im terrified of what could have happened if people like you worked at the facility that my great grandmother lived out her final years in. Would you have seen her as a wild animal that needed to be subdued too when she had one of her many dementia-induced violent episode?

I will not apologize for saying that i find it deeply disconcerting to see so many of you happily posting hateful vitriol or even about committing acts of violence against a man that looks like me, solely because he was experiencing his humanity

[torahtot]

you can always tell when someone doesn't have maga men in their life and god it makes me angry.. "if you're nice and compassionate you can be the one woman that makes them realize women aren't mean!" my mom bent over backwards for my dad for 25 fucking years he has plenty of other women kissing his ass and it never changed anything. do you really think that before being radicalized they never knew a single kind woman? they were never friends with a nice girl? alt-right men's problem with women isn't just that they've experienced too many mean women and they need to be shown that women can be nice, it's that they think women are inferior and don't deserve rights and don't understand anything so you can do what you want with them. and it takes a lot more than being nice to show someone that you aren't inferior. this isn't a case of being nice even when it's hard for the sake of deradicalization, it's about spending every fucking interaction with someone trying to get them to see you as a human being with value and a functioning intellect while they just laugh and show you that's never going to happen.

i cannot stress this enough: random women are not just going out and Being Mean to men. ur average guy interacts with plenty of women throughout his life- close women amongst their friends and family, casual interactions etc. most people don't start out being shunned by women, they start out being treated as NORMAL. & when they show their disrespect in normal society, it isn't tolerated, but when they go to alt-right spaces (which they're pushed towards online) they're told they're allowed to be as horrible as they want with no consequences because they're entitled to everything. it isn't "women aren't welcoming and the alt-right is so friendly so i'll become alt-right," it's "women don't let me disrespect them and the alt-right tells me fuck them, do whatever you want, you're entitled to it all" and why would you choose the group where you have to be a normal accountable person when there's a group that will reward you for being a shithead who gives no fucks?

the alt-right can afford to be more friendly and welcoming because they can allow bigotry. this can't work the same way for progressive spaces because we can be as kind & welcoming as possible but at the end of the day we have lines where we have to say "this behavior/speech isn't allowed in this space," and for certain people, that just can't win against a space where you can be as nasty as you want. these posts always end with a disclaimer saying "of course being kind doesnt mean you need to tolerate their bigotries" but what they don't realize and what drives me crazy is that women not tolerating bigotry IS the "women are mean" that radicalized them in the first place. they perceive you pushing back on any bigotry or bullshit as you being a meanie and treating them like they're ontologically evil. the 'kindness' they need to be deradicalized is you letting them walk all over you.

idk what the answer is to deradicalizing them and im sure relationships are part of it but you can be as kind as you want and all it will do is destroy you ime. i cant stand to see people (who have never even successfully deradicalized any man by being nice btw they always speak in hypotheticals and not from experience) double down on telling women to do things that will see no results and only hurt them, especially when any woman who has tried can tell you exactly how it went

[antigonenikk]

modern day liebgott is an uber driver who exclusively plays chief keef on his busted out speakers. his car is a 2004 toyota corrolla that smells like cigarette smoke and axe body spray. the rubber is peeling off of two of the doors. the left blinker does not work. a door handle has been mysteriously ripped off and the windows wont roll down. he has ten parking tickets he refuses to pay off and does not care about right of way. if hes delivering your food for uber eats you can count on the fact that he has eaten some of your fries. in spite of all of this he pulls more bitches than all of his friends combined.

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 61

Chapter; Highlights (okay the entire chapter is a highlight)🤣

As requested @mysterylilycheeta I NEED TO SQUEAL IN WYVERN FANGIRL WITH YOU NOW CAUSE OH M GOODNESS THIS CHAPTER ON SO MANY LEVELS I JUST AHAKWIHUHFEJLZXBKEKA

Agony was a song in Lorcan's blood, his bones, his breath.

Every step of the horse, every leap she made over body and debris, sent it ringing afresh. There was no end, no mercy from it. It was all he could do to keep in the saddle, to cling to consciousness.

To keep his arm around Elide.

She had come for him. Had found him, somehow, on this endless battlefield.

His name on her lips had been a summons he could never deny, even when death had held him so gently, nestled beneath all those he'd felled, I, and waited for his last breaths.

And now, charging toward that too-distant keep, so far behind the droves of soldiers and riders racing for the gates, he wondered if these minutes would be his last. Her last.

She had come for him.

Lorcan managed to glance toward the dam on their right. Toward the ruk rider signaling that it was only a matter of minutes until it unleashed hell over the plain.

He didn't know how it had become weakened. Didn't care.

Still Elide kept urging the horse onward, kept them on as straight a path toward the distant keep as possible.

No ruk would come to sweep them up. No, his luck had been spent in surviving this long, in her finding him. His power would do nothing against that water.

The farthest lines of panicked soldiers appeared, and Farasha charged past them.

Elide let out a sob, and he followed the line of her sight.

To the keep gate, still open.

"Faster, Farasha!" She didn't hide the raw terror in her voice, the desperation.

Once the dam broke, it would take less than a minute for the tidal wave to reach them.

She had come for him. She had found him.

The world went quiet. The pain in his body faded into nothing. Into something secondary.

Lorcan slid his other arm around Elide, bringing his mouth close to her ear as he said, "You have to let me go."

Each word was gravelly, his voice strained nearly to the point of uselessness.

Elide didn't shift her focus from the keep ahead. "No."

That gentle quiet flowed around him, clearing the fog of pain and battle. "You have to. You have to, Elide. I'm too heavy-and without my weight, you might make it to the keep in time."

"No." The salt of her tears filled his nose.

Lorcan brushed his mouth over her damp cheek, ignoring the roaring pain in his body. The horse galloped and galloped, as if she might outrace death itself.

"I love you," he whispered in Elide's ear. "I have loved you from the moment you picked up that axe to slay the ilken." Her tears flowed past him in the wind. "And I will be with you ..." His voice broke, but he made himself say the words, the truth in his heart. "I will be with you always."

He was not frightened of what would come for him once he tumbled off the horse. He was not frightened at all, if it meant her reaching the keep.

So Lorcan kissed Elide's cheek again, allowed himself to breathe in her scent one last time. "I love you," he repeated, and began to withdraw his arms from around her waist.

Elide slapped a hand onto his forearm. Dug in her nails, right into his skin, fierce as any ruk.

"No."

There were no tears in her voice. Nothing but solid, unwavering steel.

"No," she said again. The voice of the Lady of Perranth.

Lorcan tried to move his arm, but her grip would not be dislodged.

If he tumbled off the horse, she would go with him.

Together. They would either outrun this or die together.

"Elide-"

But Elide slammed her heels into the horse's sides.

Slammed her heels into the dark flank and screamed, "FLY, FARASHA." She cracked the reins. "FLY, FLY, FLY!"

And gods help her, that horse did.

As if the god that had crafted her filled the mare's lungs with his own breath, Farasha gave a surge of speed.

Faster than the wind. Faster than death.

Farasha cleared the first of the fleeing Darghan cavalry. Passed desperate horses and riders at an all-out gallop for the gates.

Her mighty heart did not falter, even when Lorcan knew it was raging to the point of bursting.

Less than a mile stood between them and the keep.

But a thunderous, groaning crack cleaved the world, echoing off the lake, the mountains.

There was nothing he could do, nothing that brave, unfaltering horse could do, as the dam ruptured.

Rowan made himself stand there, to watch the last moments of the Lady of Perranth and his former commander. It was all he could offer: witnessing their deaths, so he might tell the story to those he encountered. So they would not be forgotten.

The roaring of the oncoming wave became deafening, even from miles away.

Still Elide and Lorcan raced, Farasha passing horse after horse after horse.

Even up here, would they escape the wave's reach? Rowan dared to survey the battlements, to assess if he needed to get the others, needed to get Aelin, to higher ground.

But Aelin was not at his side.

She was not on the battlement at all.

Rowan's heart halted. Simply stopped beating as a ruddy-brown ruk dropped from the skies, spearing for the center of the plain.

Arcas, Borte's ruk. A golden-haired woman dangling from his talons.

Aelin. Aelin was—

Arcas neared the earth, talons splaying.

Aelin hit the ground, rolling, rolling, until she uncoiled to her feet.

Right in the path of that wave.

"Oh gods," Fenrys breathed, seeing her, too.

They all saw her.

The queen on the plain.

The endless wall of water surging for her.

The keep stones began shuddering. Rowan threw out a hand to brace himself, fear like nothing he had known ripping through him as Aelin lifted her arms above her head.

A pillar of fire shot up around her, lifting her hair with it.

The wave roared and roared for her, for the army behind her.

The shaking in the keep was not from the wave.

It was not from that wall of water at all.

Cracks formed in the earth, splintering across it. Spiderwebbing from Aelin.

"The hot springs," Chaol breathed. "The valley floor is full of veins into the earth itself."

Into the burning heart of the world.

The keep shook, more violently this time.

The pillar of fire sucked back into Aelin.

She held out a hand before her, her fist closed.

As if it would halt the wave in its tracks.

He knew then. Either as her mate or carranam, he knew.

"Three months," Rowan breathed.

The others stilled.

"Three months," he said again, his knees wobbling. "She's been making the descent into her power for three months."

Every day she had been with Maeve, bound in iron, she had gone deeper. And she had not tapped too far into that power since they'd freed her because she had kept making the plunge.

To gather up the full might of her magic.

Not for the Lock, not for Erawan.

But for Maeve's death blow.

A few weeks of descent had taken her powers to devastating levels. Three months of it

…

Holy gods. Holy rutting gods.

And when her fire hit the wall of water now towering over her, when they collided —

"GET DOWN!" Rowan bellowed, over the screaming waters. "GET DOWN NOW!"

His companions dropped to the stones, any within earshot doing the same.

Rowan plummeted into his power. Plummeted into it fast and hard, ripping out any remaining shred of magic.

Elide and Lorcan were still too far from the gates. Thousands of soldiers were still too far from the gates as the wave crested above them.

As Aelin opened her hand toward it.

Fire erupted.

Cobalt fire. The raging soul of a flame.

A tidal wave of it.

Taller than the raging waters, it blasted from her, flaring wide.

The wave slammed into it. And where water met a wall of fire, where a thousand years of confinement met three months of it, the world exploded.

Blistering steam, capable of melting flesh from bone, shot across the plain.

With a roar, Rowan threw all that remained of his magic toward the onslaught of steam, a wall of wind that shoved it toward the lake, the mountains.

Still the waters came, breaking against the flames that did not so much as yield an inch.

Maeve's death blow. Spent here, to save the army that might mean Terrasen's salvation. To spare the lives on the plain.

Rowan gritted his teeth, panting against his fraying power. A burnout lurked, deadly close.

The raging wave threw itself over and over and over into the wall of flame.

Rowan didn't see if Elide and Lorcan made it into the keep. If the other soldiers and riders on the plain stopped to gape.

Princess Hasar said, rising beside him, "That power is no blessing."

"Tell that to your soldiers," Fenrys snarled, standing, too.

"I did not mean it that way," Hasar snipped, and awe was indeed stark on her face.

Rowan leaned against the battlements, panting hard as he fought to keep the lethal steam from flowing toward the army. As he cooled and sent it whisking away.

Solid hands slid under his arms, and then Fenrys and Gavriel were there, propping him up between them.

A minute passed. Then another.

The wave began to lower. Still the fire burned.

Rowan's head pounded, his mouth going dry.

Time slipped from him. A coppery tang filled his mouth.

The wave lowered farther, raging waters quieting. Then roaring turned to lapping, rapids into eddies.

Until the wall of flame began to lower, too. Tracking the waters down and down and down. Letting them seep into the cracks of the earth.

Rowan's knees buckled, but he held on to his magic long enough for the steam to lessen.

For it, too, to be calmed.

It filled the plain, turning the world into drifting mist. Blocking the view of the queen in its center.

Then silence. Utter silence.

Fire flickered through the mist, blue turning to gold and red. A muted, throbbing glow.

Rowan spat blood onto the battlement stones, his breath like shards of glass in his throat.

The glowing flames shrank, steam rippling past. Until there was only a slim pillar of fire, veiled in the mist-shrouded plain.

Not a pillar of fire.

But Aelin.

Glowing white-hot. As if she had given herself so wholly to the flame that she had become fire herself.

The Fire-Bringer someone whispered down the battlements.

The mist rippled and billowed, casting her into nothing but a glowing effigy.

The silence turned reverent.

A gentle wind from the north swept down. The veil of mist pulled back, and there she was.

She glowed from within. Glowed golden, tendrils of her hair floating on a phantom wind.

"Mala's Heir," Yrene breathed.

Down on the plain, Elide and Lorcan had halted.

The wind pushed away more of the drifting mist, clearing the land beyond Aelin.

And where that mighty, lethal wave had loomed, where death had charged toward them, nothing remained at all.

For three months, she had sung to the darkness and the flame, and they had sung back.

For three months, she had burrowed so deep inside her power that she had plundered undiscovered depths. While Maeve and Cairn had worked on her, she had delved. Never letting them know what she mined, what she gathered to her, day by day by day.

A death blow. One to wipe a dark queen from the earth forever.

She'd kept that power coiled in herself even after she'd been freed from the irons. Had struggled to keep it down these weeks, the strain enormous. Some days, it had been easier to barely speak. Some days, swaggering arrogance had been her key to ignoring it.

Yet when she had seen that wave, when she had seen Elide and Lorcan choosing death together, when she had seen the army that might save Terrasen, she'd known. She'd felt the fire sleeping under this city, and knew they had come here for a reason.

She had come here for this reason.

A river still flowed from the dam, harmless and small, wending toward the lake.

Nothing more.

Aelin lifted a glowing hand before her as blessed, cooling emptiness filled her at last.

Slowly, starting from her fingertips, the glow faded.

As if she were forged anew, forged back into her body.

Back into Aelin.

Clarity, sharp and crystal clear, filled its wake. As if she could see again, breathe again.

Inch by inch, the golden glow faded into skin and bone. Into a woman once more.

Already, a white-tailed hawk launched skyward.

But as the last of the glow faded, disappearing out through her toes, Aelin fell to her knees.

Fell to her knees in the utter silence of the world, and curled onto her side.

She had the vague sense of strong, familiar arms scooping her up. Of being carried onto a broad feathery back, still in those arms.

Of soaring through the skies, the last of the mist rippling away into the afternoon sun.

And then sweet darkness.

[abyssal-ilk]

posting that sketch yesterday made me remember just how much i love my taashath so i did another doodle <3

[dollsome-does-tumblr]

i have the most horrible confession in the world and it's that when i was in 10th grade english class in like 2003-ish, my friends and i rewrote macbeth in a school project only instead of macbeth, it was bombastic and ridiculous star of tv's the apprentice d*nald tr*mp. and he wanted to become the richest and most powerful man in the world, so he killed bill gates. the three witches were the american idol judges of the time: randy, simon, and paula. the title was "kill bill." (zing!)

for some reason tr*mp was married to barbra streisand (the reason being that i was obsessed with barbra streisand and her diva energy and i worked her into anything whenever i could, like fran fine taught me. i wanted her to be lady macbeth, okay!!!! imagine the POWER!!! "out damned spot" with those fingernails!!!!) and i'm so ashamed that i did this to her. i photoshopped them together in a picture for the cover and everything. god i hope she never finds out. why am i posting about this on the internet. barbra, i'm sorry!!!!!!

i feel like this all might be my fault, is what i'm getting at. the downfall of society. i know that magical thinking isn't a real thing, but what are the odds??!?!! it haunts me. what have i done. this is a joke but also it a little bit isn't. I REALLY PARTICIPATED IN THAT HEINOUS ACT.

[galaxiesovertrees]

dianxia‘s glow in the dark friend

[time-wondroustime]

one thing I haven't seen anyone say about watcher yet, but has really disappointed me, is that only three months ago they mentioned in the truth about filming ghost files video that they had to let go of 5 (if I'm remembering the number properly) employees. and when I watched that video I was disappointed that hey hadn't planned the business properly to avoid things like that, but they are primarily creatives, so I figured there would be some business mistakes made along the way. but then hearing they just hired the 2 worth it guys and are reviving an expensive show... I feel like they could've prevented the lay offs better

[fleeingmoonlight]

It's Golden, Like Daylight

I can still see it all in my mind All of you, all of me, intertwined I once believed love would be black and white But it's golden, like daylight

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you Been sleeping so long in a twenty year dark night But now I see daylight

[okawarihappylife]

i am once again thinking abt the lost potential that is hypmic.

[sethdomain]

Dawg i hate mouthwashinhg fandom so much now, the analysis now is just so reductive ☹️☹️☹️☹️