#all my rage quotes

[the-book-ferret]

“I wonder what it’s like to be with someone who can love you through your rage.” ― Sabaa Tahir, All My Rage

[hyperfocusthusly]

Sokka: hi, I’m bi. I’m attracted to women because they are incredible and I’m attracted to men because I love making bad choices

Comic

[xxplastic-cubexx]

WAIT WAIT WAIT CHERIK MPREG IS CANON

i cannot stress enough how canon cherik mpreg is, yes my friend

[petrichor-moss-and-lightning]

that daughterhood feeling of slipping out of your body, trying on different bones, adjusting the marrow so that your mother might look at you, might love you enough. that daughterhood feeling of being simultaneously five and fifteen and fifty-five. of counting the rings of your spinal column to make sure. of being haunted by the vengeance of every version of you that didn’t make it out of that house alive.

[yea-baiyi]

someone just posted this quote and it just hit me that it wasn’t that nobody loved xie lian after knowing how far he’d fallen and everything he’d done. it was xie lian who was too terrified to lean on them and share what he was going through, or he tried and they didn’t have the full context to understand him, and it just made xie lian feel more alone which made him push them away even more. he had feng xin and mu qing the whole time and they never ever stopped loving him even when they saw him falter and fail. and it wasn’t that hua cheng was unique in loving him anyway but it was hua cheng that happened to be present for all of xie lian’s worst moments and none of it made him love xie lian any less, and hua cheng is not the exception to the rule but the proof that xie lian was always loveable and always deserving and always loved despite despite despite. and after finding hua cheng he opens his heart up to his friends once again and accepts their love back into his life when he had shut it all out for centuries. i am in TEARS rn when i said i can’t think about feng xin and mu qing this is one of the reasons why

[zukkacore]

Something about a Pygmalion take on Jaceporter is so appealing to me… in that way that Porter reveres power and domination… the tension between his desire to seek out and keep a Jace as a perfect spineless compliant lackey vs a need to remake Jace in the image of someone who is powerful and dominant and assertive. Jace that is complacent and cowardly and passive is a Jace he can use and control but never respect, and he loves what that Jace can do FOR him. But as Jace is transformed by rage, a Jace who is furious and oppositional and autonomous and actualized and powerful and is able to stand in the face of Porter and tell him he cannot stay even if it means death is a Jace he can respect and maybe even admire but no longer control. In the same way Henry Higgins cannot truly make a Lady until she has outgrown him, (“Eliza you’re magnificent. 5 minutes ago you were a millstone around my neck and now you’re a tower of strength. A consort battleship. I like you this way Eliza” “goodbye professor Higgins”). Because conflict is at the heart of war, Porter cannot truly anoint a Saint of the God of War until Jace has outgrown him.

[softgothbabe]

Do not go gentle into that good night

Rage, rage against the dying of the light

[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.

[tetraandtheapples]

stares at you and fluttering my eyelashes

i like your silly words a lot they're very yummy and delicious

Oughghrgrg first askkkk....... Oughgghhhhhghrg RAGHRR

Thank you so much..... Just generally but I actually got a lot of surprise support from many people (3 of them! Woaw!) from my Swapdream ramblings..... Swapdream makes me TWEAK RAGHGHG

I want to reply to all of them but it's been wayy too long since I've used Tumblr..... I want to harass people about Swapdream because they reblogged my reblog but I don't think that's good Tumblr etiquette LOL. But I also don't want to leave them on "read"!!! But I also also don't want to reblog their reblogs because the post was kinda long and I don't want to clog up my own blog GELP. Maybe I should just make a post with their posts as screenshots, tag them and leave my responses there LMAO. Structured......

GOughg sorry I'm very quickly coming to the realisation I am a huge huge huge yapper when there's no character limit HEHAHA. Again TSYM HEHAHAHA bats my fluttering eyelashes back at you...... twinkle twinkly!

EDIT: I just realised. This ask probably wasn't about the Swapdream ramble but instead about the "Killer megalovania" thing. I'm just very Swapdream brainrotted cries SORRY (I still very much appreciate your support!!!! I'm just not used to the fame.... heh.... twirls hair)

[ratatatastic]

"Is it hard to play against Brady [Tkachuk]?" "Yeah! Is it ever? You're talking about one of those killers, right? Okay, let's talk about Brady coming down on ya coming to pick up a puck it's—yeah, yeah. He's uh—he's a big boy, and he has absolutely zero regard for your health and safety." "Nope, dudn't care. Hey, when someone like that though—" "And that's... good for him!" "—but when you... when he's coming down on you, are you like, 'I'm gonna spin off of him' or are you like, 'You know what? I'm gonna dig the puck in the corner and I'm gonna put my shoulder right into his chest, and do a reverse hit.' Like, do you think about both of those? Or just like real quick—like, you know, when you reverse hit a guy—" "Yeah..." "—it fucks him! As a forward, man—you reverse hit me? I'm not hitting you again! 'Cuz now I'm fuckin' scared." "Yeah, yeah, I think... I mean, with him it's so important where the puck is and, you know, with guys that size—like, do you really wanna put your shoulder into him in that moment? Like is that gonna hurt you more than it's gonna hurt him? Potentially? I mean I'm more of, like uh, the 'avoid the hit, grab the puck.' You know, 'try and make a play'... Um, but yeah, I think it depends on the game, time of year, where we are, it's all important."

The Cam & Strick Podcast | 7.30.24 (x)

man who thoroughly enjoys when another man has absolutely zero regard for your health and safety

[thisiwilldecidelater]

It is October again, and while it's turning the leaves into a vibrant red, I'm helpless but to grieve over your absence. You are still alive, which is a relief, but your presence on the other side of the world, unknown to me, is much more haunting than your death will ever be. 

I've made two cups of coffee, one for me and the other for you, which is getting cold now just like my heart. Ironically, my heart can never be warm again. I never liked coffee before; it's something I got from you. I drink both the cups hastily before someone gets a hint of my loneliness because with you gone, it's only mine to feel.

It is October again, and I can feel the cold weather on the outside of my skin, which gives me chills and a sense of contentment that something finally matches the inside of my heart. 

I still hear footsteps on the pathway you never paced and wish for you to knock on my door. I've written letters addressing you that I never meant to post. I've bought gifts, which I may or may not be able to give you. I've got a box full of letters and poems written about you for when you're mine waiting to be opened by none other than you, and a locket with your picture in it, the other half of which doesn't belong to me but I still own.

It is October again, and I've loved you for as many Octobers as I can.

[eggwishing]

posture: VILE

[fandomscraziness22]

I'm self destructing With a calm facade Praying someone will notice Hoping no one will

“I don’t know whether this feeling is universal, but I have some way-down vibrating part of my subconscious that needs to self-destruct, at least a little bit.”

"He wants to set himself on fire, but he can't afford for anyone to see him burn."

How can dizzying desire and blinding hatred of yourself twist until they're intertwined and seeded so far within you that you cannot fathom separating them?

it never ends

// me // Daisy Jones and the Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid // The Anthropocene Reviewed by John Green // All My Rage by Sabaa Tahir // Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston // september hills // me // Turtles All the Way Down by John Green

[thediaryofarevolutionist]

I sometimes feel like I can feel people's suffering. I just have to look into their eyes and see how much they are suffering. I see what this system is doing to them and not giving them what they need and rightfully deserve. I see that they hoped for more in life than this...

It really breaks my heart that I sometimes feel paralyzed by all the pain and suffering in this world. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it really feels that way, I remember this feeling from before and I was hoping it would go away, but it hasn't. I still feel it and it's just getting more intense. I see the injustice and inhumanity and I can't look anymore because it hurts me so much. It's not fair. I know I'm too sensitive and sensitive, I know it and telling myself doesn't help me, I need to know how to get rid of these feelings. I feel everything too intensely and strongly, I can't feel “nothing”, even if I hate you, I feel too much for you. Why did I have to become like that? Writing all this here makes me cry. I can't stand or digest anything. Everything gets stuck inside me so that one day I'm afraid of suffocating. Why me and no one else?

[skybristle]

[thereviewverdict]

I wonder what it’s like to be with someone who can love you through your rage.

— Sabaa Tahir