#continues to talk in a circle.

[etruatcaelum]

Her eyes close; she sighs, a small, percussive release of pure frustration before she folds her hands together and gives him a decidedly icy smile. "I do not," she says, carving each syllable with emphatic care, "crave death. I have no wish to die. I am not suicidal. I want—I have always wanted—to live."

Salem takes a deep breath. Infinite life taught her how to wait, but the effort of correcting mistaken assumptions demands a different kind of patience, of which she has precious little.

"Perhaps I have not been clear enough," she whispers, strained. "Humans—these humans—do not stand condemned because people are cruel to each other. It is because of me."

What confounds her most is the acceptance. Salem remembers only the vaguest contours of her youth, in smudgy and uncertain lines of feelings too violent to hold them caged in her chest, but she will never forget how the Brothers shattered her faith; the cauterizing agony of finding them unworthy of her devotion.

She cannot fathom the cowardice it takes to look such breathtaking evil in the face and choose to kneel before it.

"My defiance," she says softly. "That is the great sin written into the soul of every grimm, faunus, and human in this world. I brought Remnant to life from the ashes they left behind. His redemption is not a game mankind can win, but I do not intend to play it." Salem offers him another wintry smile. "Nor should you."

Qrow can't help but think that one of those things is not like the others. Creation, destruction, knowledge, and choice? What power was that? The power to change a decision one made in the past perhaps? Or perhaps the power to change someone elses choice? Either way, he didn't like the way it was one of the four.

"If thats the case, why are you trying to get the relics? Surely you know that we will fail if tested right now... the way this world is, the way Faunus are still treated so terribly, the white fang, they would destroy us."

He couldn't see it going any other way, the world was not united, it wasn't even close to united. Qrow knows this.

"If you love it more than he claims to, why risk it being destroyed? Do you crave death so much that you would destroy the existence of everyone else alive?

[nhura]

Life is too short.

[ my art ] [ twitter ]

(detail + ratio rambling under the cut >_>)

This is one of those "I need a break between my ten other illustrations, let me do a lil sketchy sketch :D" that got too ambitious etc. etc. I never want to see the color red again" moments. BUT!

I really, really like to explore Ratio's viscerality and what's happening between his brain and his nerves, like... all of this thorough control and discipline and he still has to breathe and react to himself and his surroundings, you know? His accomplishments are insane for "his age"* but he's going to run out of "age" at some point! His ambitions are so far reaching that he's not worried about getting doctorate degree Number Nine! Rather, his efforts are pointed outwards, into the universe, for the universe. As you know.

Speaking of his degrees, I had a half thought a while ago that we've seen him with two types of laurel pins.

One is him in his suuuuuper cute mother goose avatar (three leaves) and the other is the hat he's wearing everywhere else (eight leaves).

The thought was, "Aww, what if they're like commemorative pins counting the number of his degrees or whatever :)". Literally only because there's eight in the current one. This is kind of silly because then you'd HAVE to have an obscene number of degrees even for a normal person for your leaf pin to start looking like a laurel in the first place so scratch that BUT it's cute to think that it's still academic regalia. Something something I work in higher ed myself and it's like... it's like that.

The university goldsmith appreciates the job security.

I REMEMBER WHY I BROUGHT THAT UP. FOLLOWING the fantasy where more leaves = more knowledge!, in summary, even though Ratio seems to be a little beyond trying to get a prize every time he learns something now. But he does want to Keep Going. He can only Keep Going.

So I drew him in a bathtub full of an uncountable amount of gold leaves looking at the camera with an indescribable expression born from a hunger that will never be satiated lol DETAIL SHOT!

*Referenced only vaguely in a comment in the context of astonishment, but it could have easily have been "woah he's accomplished so much for his age (young)" as it could be "woah he looks good for his age (older)". There is no canon age and even then, reconciling standardized system time versus planetary time versus "does his particular breed of lizard human have the same lifespan as tumblr user nhura?" is a losing game for everyone involved! Here's what I think: I think he started going grey in his early twenties, whatever that means in spacefantasygame, and that that's very cute on him.

Do YOU think Ratio would be tempted by immortality???? Or would he MIND HIS BUSINESS

[chonkymoth]

My hare-brained theory is that Sean is going to die due to his heart issues, excessive drinking, etc but thanks to Laszlo now having a grasp on how to reanimate the dead...well, you get the idea

[starrbirrd]

something something ACOSF AU where the first fae-tradition Nesta learns is cutting her hair and sending it to Rhys as a declaration of war

[itspileofgoodthings]

I don’t even fully know why but “what do I do when I miss you so much?” / “Just wait, and pray desperately” was a knife to my heart in the best way.

[lightbulb-warning]

i used to freehand comics all the time as a child and since the part i liked was the drawing part i would just draw panel after panel because i didn't want to stop drawing to think about icky icky words, plus the story TOTALLY still made perfect sense! to me! and noone else, but 'whoooo caaaaares omgggg its not like comics and sequantial art are a communicative meeediummmm lmaoooooo'. i spent my entire childhood telling myself stuff like "oh pfft I know this story by heart- ill SIMPLY remember the dialogue and write it later" ...and. I can't help but admire baby maiora's (call that a minora ba tm tsk) fucking audacity? hubris? confident wrongness? kid couldn't even remember to finish the comics in the first place? INCREDIBLE levels of unearned self assurance, wish that were me, genuinely- what an icon!!! anyway i think i have forever cursed myself

[tiredmaster]

I think a lot more people understand the themes of toxic masculinity in Mouthwashing (game) than you some of you guys believe. There's just a lot more mileage in making fun of Jimmy than there is talking about Curly's reaction to Anya's rape and how it plays into larger behaviour of men when their friends are accused.

[cinamun]

Nobody:

Me:

Okay so the reason she called him Darren in that moment is that...

What does DJ have? He has money. He has athleticism. He has looks. He has a Range. All things that Indya would have have thrown herself at when she was younger. She would have took a young man like DJ used him until there was absolutely nothing left. Then, when there was nothing left, she would have skipped her tight mini skirt, bundles and lash extensions on to the next one.

She called him Darren, and this is just my theory, because he is a reflection of her husband (okay, duh, but hear me out), the one who challenged her to think beyond cash. The one she thought was broke until he had her heart.

Calling him by his whole government was a reminder for her just as it was a warning for him.

She is very worried about him because she knows he's easy prey and that women like the woman she used to be are still out there waiting to pounce. Yes I'm a nerd and yes that was a tiger reference because she lives in a tiger sanctuary. I apologize to no one.

Okay i'm done. I just be needing to unpack shit.

[shannonsketches]

something something foils moving in opposite directions Goku's always happy to seek and fight stronger opponents because he spent most of his life being the strongest guy in the room and Vegeta wants to be the strongest/is always exhausted to find stronger opponents because he spent most of his life having to navigate his survival around the whims of the strongest guy in the universe room and so Goku has a foundation of safety and stability and so spends his time craving challenge and adventure and Vegeta has a foundation of challenge and adventure and spends his time craving safety and stability and the overlaid section of their venn diagram is that the only way they know how acquire and maintain those things is through battle

[sydmarch]

it was so stupidly difficult to find any nutritionist who has experience with arfid & takes insurance so after having to go through all these referrals my therapist sent me & jumping through hoops I lowkey hate the lady lmao feels like such a waste of time & energy

[cosmicterrorthe8th]

Another Grant headcanon:

I think he wrote love notes when in relationships, and he went all out with like making the paper scented and stuff. But like he had no good perfume so he ended up using his horrible body spray. So like the lucky boyfriend would like find a paper reeking of the body spray like every once in a while.

Also I think he was someone who fell deep into romance because having a crush and feeling butterflies in his stomach was better than numbness. So he would pursue every crush even if he knew it would not end well because of the thrill of it. I think this sucked but I think he atleast felt like this is a normal way for life to suck.

[frevandrest]

Did Saint-Just ever talk about women’s education?

He sure did! In his Fragments sur les institutions républicaines, he details his idea for the education of girls. Which is as follows:

Les filles sont élevées dans la maison maternelle.

(The girls are educated in maternal home)

That's it. And it comes after a lengthily discussion on the education of boys. So it does sound like SJ remembered girls only as an afterthought, and didn't have much to say on the topic. (I mean, he definitely didn't have much to say on the topic because if he had more ideas, he'd write them down).

Now, I am not sure what this means exactly. That girls should not have much education? Or that any education done to girls should be done in the home? (Those are two very, very different options). SJ was big on protecting girls and women from sexual violence (sometimes seen as going outside without a protector), so maybe this is a reflection on that? Don't get me wrong, this whole education for women is a big L from him, but he grew up at a time where female literacy was becoming a norm, at least for bourgeoise girls. They would get some education on things deemed important for a girl; SJ's own sisters were literate. So I doubt he would want girls to have absolutely no education, or only what their mother can teach (?) I mean, maybe? But that would be mega stupid, because you want the woman of the future Republic to know enough about the world so they can instill patriotic values in their daughters, so they can be good mothers and wives of the future republicans, if nothing else.

So my interpretation is that he got caught so much into developing that idea of friendship-filled, Sparta-inspired program of education for boys that he forgot about the existence of girls until late. And he didn't care that much about it, past "yes, girls get some education". So yes, an L from SJ on this one, but it is too limited to conclude what exactly he thought about the education of women or what he saw as an "appropriate" education for them.

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

WHSIKEY IM NOT ANSWERING YOUR ASK IM SO SORRY

[jacereaall]

Souvenirs for when it's over

Characters from @jflashandclash 's series: The Traitors of Olympus

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

Hawke: You knew my grandparents? Elthina: I dedicated your mother into the Chantry. She was a beautiful baby. Your grandmother was a very proper lady, but she was beside herself that day. And your mother put a fist in my eye.

Suddenly I like Leandra a little bit more. I mean, who hasn't wanted to put a fist in Elthina's eye at some point during da2?

"Excuse me, Grand Cleric Elthina, a templar used your official seal to get away with kidnapping and murdering qunari." "Ah, well, the Maker will figure it out. The Chantry is a gentle mother who knows her children learn best when allowed to learn themselves."

"Hey, Elthina, the templars are abusing mages. They're forcing tranquility onto them for minor things, which is against the law, and it's only getting worse. Can't you do something?" "It's not my place to decide who is right, but the Maker will eventually."

"Damn it, Elthina, my mother and several other women were murdered by an actually dangerous blood mage because the templars and city guard couldn't be bothered to do their jobs!" "Ah, I'm sorry, that's so unfortunate. May your mother find a place at the Maker's side."

"ELTHINA the qunari beheaded the Viscount and now Meredith has taken complete control over Kirkwall and is looking for any excuse to annul the entire Circle with her Andraste complex, will you PLEASE do something to stop her before more people die??" "Hmmm, I see, but no. The Maker's time isn't man's time, we have no need to rush."

"Listen, you useless moron, you need to leave Kirkwall because shit's about to go down." "No, I will not leave. Who would hurt me? I'm Grand Cleric."

Even as a baby, Leandra knew this lady was an awful person. This is why you got blown up, Elthina.

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 67

as I read live

Thank the gods. Even though they were the last beings Rowan wished to thank.

She rested a hand atop Goldryn's hilt, flame dancing at her fingers, seemingly into the red stone itself.

"It would take years," she observed, "to heal everyone infected by the Valg."

"Each of those soldiers has a family, friends who would want us to try."

"I know."

The chill wind whipped her hair across her face, blowing northward.

"Could Yrene heal them? Erawan and Maeve? I don't know why I didn't think of it."

"Is Erawan's body made by him, or stolen?

Is Maeve's?" Rowan shook his head. "They might be wholly different."

"I don't see how I can ask Yrene to do it.

Ask it of Chaol." Aelin swallowed. "To even put Yrene near Erawan or Maeve... I can't do it."

Rowan wouldn't be able to, either. Not for a thousand different reason.

"But is it a mistake to put Yrene's safety above that of this entire world?" Aelin mused, examining one of the enemy daggers she'd pilfered. An unusually fine blade, likely stolen in the first place.

"She's the greatest weapon we have, if the keys are not in play. Are we fools not to push to use it?"

It wasn't his choice, his call. But he could offer her a sounding board. "Will you be able to live with yourself if something happens to Yrene, to her unborn child?"

"No. But the rest of the world will live, at least. My guilt would be secondary to that."

"And if you don't push Yrene to try to destroy them, and Erawan or Maeve wins—what then?"

"There is still the Lock. There's still me."

Rowan swallowed. Saw the reason she'd needed to be away from the others, needed to walk.

"Yrene is a ray of hope for you. For us That you might not need to forge the Lock at all. You, or Dorian."

"The gods demand it."

"The gods can go to hell."

Aelin chucked away the dagger. "I hate this. I really do."

He slid an arm around her shoulders. It was all he could offer her.

Over—she'd said she wanted it to be over.

He'd do all he could to make it so.

Aelin leaned her head against his chest, and they stared across the cold lake in silence.

"Would you let me do it, if I were Yrene? If I were carrying our child?"

He failed to block out the image of that dream—of Aelin, heavily pregnant, their children around her. "I don't let you do anything."

She waved a hand. "You know what I mean."

He took a moment to answer. "No. Even if the world ended because of it, I couldn't bear it."

And with that Lock, he might very well have to make that decision, too.

Rowan ran his fingers over the claiming marks on her neck. "I told you that love was a weakness. It would be far easier if we all hated each other."

She snorted. "Give it a few weeks on the road with this army, in those mountains, and we might not be such pleasant allies anymore."

Rowan kissed the top of her head. "Gods help us."

Even with the hours of instruction on the journey back to this continent, Rowan and the others had not wholly mastered the language of the half-forgotten marks. But her mate remembered most—as if they'd been planted in his mind.

Aelin carefully studied the line of symbols across the page. Read through them a second time. "It's not what we're looking for." She pulled on her bottom lip. "It's a spell for opening a portal between locations-just in this world."

"Like what Maeve can do?" Borte asked.

Aelin shrugged. "Yes, but this is for close traveling. More like what Fenrys can do.

"Or had once been able to do, before Maeve had broken it from him.

Borte's mouth quirked to the side. "What's the point of it, then?"

"Entertaining people at parties?" Aelin handed the book back to Rowan.

Borte chuckled, and leaned back in her seat, toying with the end of a long braid. "Do you think the spell exists—to find an alternate way to seal the Wyrdgate?" The question was barely more than a whisper, and yet Rowan shot the girl a warning look. Borte just waved him off.

No. Elena would have told her, or Brannon,

if such a thing had existed Aelin ran a hand over the dry, ancient page, the symbols blurring. "It's worth a look, isn't it?"

Rowan indeed resumed his careful browsing and decoding. He'd sit here for hours, she knew. And if they found nothing, she knew he'd sit here and reread them all just to be sure.

A way out—an alternate path. For her, for Dorian. For whichever of them would pay the price to forge the Lock and seal the gate. A desperate, foolish hope.

Chaol found his father where he'd left him, seething in his study.

"You cannot give a single acre of this territory to the wild men," his father hissed as Chaol wheeled into the room and shut the door.

Chaol crossed his arms, not bothering took placating. "I can, and I will."

Chaol sighed, slumping back in his chair. A lifetime of this—that's what Dorian had laid upon him. As Hand, he'd have to deal with lords and rulers just like his father. If they survived. If Dorian survived, too. The thought was enough for Chaol to say, "Everyone in this war is making sacrifices. Most far, far greater than a few miles of land. Be grateful that's all we're asking of you."

"I hope Anielle burns to the ground. And you with it." A small, hateful smile. "That's all your brother said. My heir—that's how he feels about this place. If he will not protect Anielle, then what shall become of it without you?"

"She discovered the trunk. Right before we got word of Morath marching on us," his father said, his smile mocking and cold. "I should have burned them, of course, but something prompted me to save them instead. For this exact moment, I think."

The trunk was piled thick with letters. All written by his mother. To him. "How long," he said too quietly.

"From the day you left." His father's sneer lingered.

Years. Years of letters, from a mother he had not heard from, had believed hadn't wanted to speak to him, had yielded to his father's wishes.

"You let her believe I didn't write back," Chaol said, surprised to find his voice still calm "You never sent them, and let her believe I didn't write back."

"Watching you with that wife of yours only proves it. I'd think you'd bargain quite a bit to be able to read these letters."

Chaol only stared at him. Blinked once, as if it would quell the roaring in his head, his heart.

His mother had never forgotten him. Never.

Stopped writing to him.

Chaol smiled slightly.

"Keep the letters," he said, steering his chair back to the doors. "Now that she's left you, it might be your only way to remember her." He opened the study door and looked over his shoulder.

His father remained beside the trunk, stiff as a sword. "I don't make bargains with bastards, I’m certainly not starting with you."

Cain's people or they had been. Aelin decided not to mention him during their brief introduction. And Chaol, wisely, refrained from admitting that he'd killed the man.

Another lifetime. Another world.

Seated atop a fine Munigi horse Hasar had lent her, Aelin rode at the front of the company, as it marched from Anielle, Chaol on Farasha to her left, Rowan on his own Munigi horse to her right. Their companions were scattered behind, Lorcan healed enough to be riding, Elide beside him.

And behind them, snaking into the distance, the army of the khagan moved.

The khagan's armies had crossed every terrain, though. Mountains and deserts and seas.

They did not balk now.

So Aelin supposed she would not, either.

For whatever time she had left, until it was over.

This final push north, homeward

・・・

She smiled grimly at the looming mountains, at the army stretching away behind them

And just because she could, just because they were headed to Terrasen at last, Aelin unleashed a flicker of her power. Some of the standard-bearers behind them murmured in surprise, but Rowan only smiled.

Smiled with that fierce hope, that brutal determination that flared in her own heart, as she began to burn.

She let the flame encompass her, a golden glow that she knew could be spied even from the farthest lines of the army, from the city and keep they left behind. A beacon glowing bright in the shadows of the mountains, in the shadows of the forces that awaited them, Aelin lit the way north.