#familial bonds are so so strong

[lilac-gold]

hero & mari's friendship has so many more layers than people typically consider, and it's genuinely so painful to think about.

to begin, they're both people pleasers, determined to impress everyone and act as role models to the younger kids. they settle for nothing less than perfection, mari practicing her piano for countless hours on end, hero earning solely first place awards. they both feel the pressure of everyone's expectations, of knowing that they're obligated to go above and beyond, to do more and more to impress. but nothing is ever enough, not when those expectations just get higher and higher the more they strive to meet them, so it builds up to the point where they can only feel satisfied achieving flawlessness. but flawlessness isn't possible, not when there's always something else to criticise, something that could have been better. they're both placed on pedestals because that's where they want to be, they need to be. they take it upon themselves to be perfect, so perfect is how they appear.

mari is gentle, caring, funny, wise. she offers bountiless good advice at only the cost of your love-- because she needs love, needs the validation that she's doing well or else her efforts will have all been for nothing. she's the perfect older sister, looking out for her little brother and protecting him where necessary. she's the perfect musician, dedicated and quick-fingered, composing masterpieces at the age of fifteen. she's the perfect student, spending hours after school studying to ensure that she does the best she can in her exams.

hero is compassionate, talented, charming, helpful. he offers assistance to anyone, all they have to do is ask-- because he can't say no, not when that would be letting people down. he's the perfect older brother, joking around with kel, setting a good example, keeping him out of trouble. he's the perfect hobbyist, taking an interest in cooking, each meal as good as the last as he puts his all into making them delicious. he's the perfect student, incredibly hard-working and doing his parents proud.

in the real world, hero and mari don't seem to have many friends. they spend all of their time in the group of six. they feature in the vast majority of the photo album's photos, and are often implied to be together in the scenes neither of them feature in. hero isn't particularly close to anyone when he returns to faraway, not seeking out anybody his own age to catch up with. when mari dies, it's sunny, kel, aubrey, basil and hero who are affected deeply.

but they have each other. they talk together, have fun together, work hard together. they understand each other in a way no-one else does, because they're in the same position.

hero isn't just "mari's malewife". mari isn't just "hero's girlfriend". their relationship goes so much deeper than just an implied romantic connection, because in the whole world, these two lean on each other the most. they're both older siblings. they're both straight a students. they're both masters at what they love. they're both the pride and joy of their parents. they're the same in so many ways, and that means they can trust each other.

hero and mari grow up together, and they grow up always trying to impress people. always avoiding disappointing them. they bottle everything up and hide it under warm smiles because they have to be perfect. they can't be anything less, or else they risk losing the images they've worked so hard to build, the images they can't afford to lose. not now, not ever.

they can't tell anyone about their struggles. about how hard a perpetual state of perfection is to preserve. about the crushing weight of expectations that never leaves their shoulders. about the endless responsibilities seizing hold of them in a vice grip, and their own steadfast refusal to burden anyone with their "problems". they're not supposed to have problems. they're supposed to be perfect.

they can't tell anyone, except for each other.

so that's who they go to. they each know the other inside out, know every intricacy and detail of their trains of thought, because their minds work in the same way. they're able to connect, to provide those pillars of support they can't get anywhere else, because they've always been a shoulder for someone else to lean on with no wall behind them to catch any falls caused by the weight.

they listen to each other. there's no judgement, no fear of disappointment. only the burning need to let out the fears plaguing their minds, to be allowed to feel bad, to have someone that won't be disappointed or shocked about their problems. they're teenagers with what feels like the weight of the world atop them, but together, they're able to share the burden.

looking at the other is like staring into a half-faded reflection, because hero and mari are both broken mirrors showing only the images people want to see. the cracks are hidden by their light, any imperfections masked and obscured by the awe brought forth via their achievements. but hero sees mari's silently shattered shards, and mari sees hero's. and they're always, always there for each other to slowly start mending the cracks.

and then mari "kills herself". and hero's left alone.

there's always been an unspoken vow between them, a promise that they'd support each other no matter what. that they could trust each other with anything. and hero stares up at a limp, lifeless corpse, and he doesn't know why mari couldn't trust him with this.

the worst part is, he knew there could have been signs, because he knows mari's endless cheerfulness isn't all genuine. he knows she gets irritable when she doesn't achieve flawlessness. he knows she won't let anyone else see her cry. he knows she's been battling the voices inside of her head for ages now.

but it's only in the months succeeding her death that he truly knows what depression feels like. for a while, there's only his suffocating devastation and grief, only the world-shattering fact that his best friend, his confidant, his pillar, is gone forever. and without her, he crumbles.

he goes to her funeral, and sees a never-ending array of black umbrellas on a cold, wet, miserable day. he holds no umbrella of his own. the water trickles into the unfeeling fabric of his black suit, sends shivers down his spine that should have forced him to react, plasters unbrushed hair to his forehead, mingles with the salty tears spilling down his cheeks. the sun shined brighter when she was here, and now that she's gone, he can only let the chill of the rain seep into his skin.

he returns home, and crawls into bed, into the empty embrace of heavy blankets and a darkness he wishes would consume him, and spends hours upon hours upon hours simply sobbing into his pillow. it seems impossible that she's gone. that the only person he could count on, the only person who understood him, the person he'd vowed to face the world with, the person he's relied on so heavily, is gone. gone forever. gone of her own volition, because she could see no reason to keep living.

hero wasn't reason enough. he wasn't good enough. he's tried so hard for so long not to let anyone down, but it's clear to him now that he's failed her. and that's his breaking point, when the half-sealed cracks all burst back apart. there's no point in trying anymore. there's no way to win. he can't fathom keeping up the picture of perfection without her.

mari wasn't the perfect older sister. she snapped at sunny when he got distracted during practice, brushed off aubrey when the girl offered to help out with the recital, spent her days too preoccupied to offer advice. she wasn't the perfect musician. she couldn't bear the thought of hitting even one wrong note, obsessing over the cursed piece she'd created even as it continuously refused to meet her sky-high standards. she wasn't the perfect student. she didn't even live beyond the start of freshman year.

hero's no longer the perfect older brother. he doesn't respond when kel tries to reach out to him, any words buried under the dirt covering a grave he slowly digs for himself over the next year. he's not the perfect hobbyist. he can't bring himself to so much as think of indulging in his passions, believes that he doesn't deserve to have nice things and no longer finds that spark of joy appear at the prospect of cooking. he's not the perfect student. he doesn't go to school over the next year, completely sectioned off from everyone else as he rots out of sight of the sun.

mari was gentle, caring, funny, wise. mari was stubborn, secretive, secluded, sensitive.

hero was compassionate, talented, charming, helpful. hero was silent, selfish, subordinate, spineless.

hero is all alone. mari is dead dead dead dead dead.

he finds himself following in her footsteps, and holds it all in. really, what else can he do? his only confidant is gone. he refuses to face a world without mari in it. he shouts at the one person who still sees him as someone to admire. he breaks down time and time and time again, a constant disappointment.

but he's seen how mari's death has affected his little brother. he knows how his own would, too. and he can't do that to kel. that would extinguish the one bit of light he has left. the sun may have shined brighter when mari was here, but with kel, some of its glow still remains.

so he gets up. he learns to try again. and this time, he does it all alone.

he reconnects with kel, as false as his efforts feel to himself. he tries not to think of how much better mari was at this, how much easier it had been to put on a grin with her in his life. he watches out for kel, notices when his smiles flicker just a little too much and offers to take him to gino's. perfect older sibling.

he takes up every extracurricular he can find, and brings home trophy upon trophy in each to demonstrate his capabilities. he works hard and learns fast, and is handed shiny plaques of silver and gold that indicate his mastery of skills he can't bring himself to truly enjoy. perfect hobbyist.

he makes up for the year of school he's missed by dedicating hours upon hours to studying. he passes with honours and goes to one of the best colleges he can find. he takes the course he's expected to, and pretends the sight of blood doesn't sicken him to his core. perfect student.

he upholds mari's legacy. he does everyone proud. it's a hollow sentiment.

throughout it all, he doesn't visit mari's grave once. he doesn't so much as mention her name, despite her haunting his every waking and sleeping thought. he misses her more than words can say, but he can't handle looking back on their memories. he claims he's doing just fine without her. he's a liar.

hero's always had a tendency to bottle things up, but after her death, that gets infinitely worse. he doesn't risk getting close to anyone, lest he fail them too. he closes himself off. people like him, people know him, but he doesn't have friends. not really. he's always been a little disliked, a little ostracised, a little different. he cares so much about how others perceive him, but the one group he's never managed to win over is those he was expected to be closest to. that was where both he and mari had struggled.

at least before, they'd had each other. now, hero makes it through the dull, monotonous cycle of his life by himself. he finishes high school, but moves onto college. he leaves behind faraway, but brings a huge piece of it with him. he tries to manage. he keeps it all hidden in neat little rows, fragile bottles on slanting shelves he does his very best to balance. he teeters precariously on the edge of a breakdown with every step he takes, but doesn't let anyone take notice. he wraps it all up under charming smiles and silken words. without the sun to guide him, he fades into the shadows as easily as he breathes. he's just another student, nothing particularly special about him, and while it's different and strange, it's in plenty of ways relieving. average people don't let anyone down. now it's only his parents he still has to impress. he pretends to be happy, and ignores the ghost he seems to be following every footstep of.

hero's alone, but it's better that way. mari died because he wasn't good enough to save her. he won't let anyone else down. never again.

he hopes mari would be proud of him. (he knows she'd hate what he's become.)

i feel like these two are often dismissed due to the lack of focus on their arcs and characters in canon, but there's so, so much about them to unpick that's lying in the subtext. hero and mari are such tragic, interesting, complicated characters, and it's sad to see them be brushed aside. no matter how you see their dynamic, there's so much to explore surrounding them, both separately and as a pair, and i'd love to see more people discussing just how brilliantly complex they really are.

[owlsie-hoot]

05.05 Pair Bond

[fakakta-art]

Happy Hanukkah! My gift to you- some quick lil doodles of the batfam celebrating!

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

See, I think Charles’ annoyance and frustration with the Cat King really was just pure protectiveness and not any kind of jealousy - it’s understandable, because Edwin is not telling him what happened even though something clearly did, which is not typical for them. Edwin doesn’t usually hide things like this! Of course he’s worried!

Charles’ reaction to Monty, on the other hand, is difficult to explain in a way that isn’t jealousy. You could say he’s being protective again, but Charles shows no sign of distrust in Monty, and had no idea of who Monty was or that he might betray them - he was actually very chill with him, except in a select few specific scenes. You could say he just doesn’t like him because he got brushed off during their first meeting, but not only does that not seem like Charles at all, it also doesn’t make sense, since, again, in most instances, Charles is genuinely friendly and is happy when Monty compliments him and seems to have come around to liking him (it completely flies over his head that this is a petty jab at Edwin on Monty’s part but oh well hahaha). You could say it changes up their status quo a bit and that bothers Charles. I do think this bothers him a bit, but I think, unlike Edwin, Charles’ fear and frustration here is directed more at situations (the Cat King whisking him away for several hours, as an example) than others. He’s sociable and likes being able to talk to new people. There’s absolutely no way he’d begrudge Edwin doing the same - and he doesn’t… with Niko. Edwin and Niko hit it off and become very close and that never bothers Charles at all. He’s incredibly endeared to her, just like the rest, and for the most part, he’s chill with Monty too, and smiles pretty knowingly when Edwin confesses to him having awakened some feelings. The only exceptions, where he shows definite annoyance, are when Monty first shows up and gets really in Edwin’s personal space to show him the astrology chart he made, and when Edwin is so sucked into the book Monty gave him that he doesn’t hear that Charles is talking to him, to which he annoyedly says that they seem to have been “spending a lot of time together”.

You could say he’s unused to having anyone get in Edwin’s personal space like that, but, again, Niko. She’s very tactile with him and he doesn’t seem to mind all that much; they spend time together watching things. If it was just someone getting close with Edwin in general, not only would that be weirdly possessive for the character, but it would also mean he would show discomfort with anyone getting close, I think. Does Charles see Monty as more of a potential threat than Niko, seeing as he knows her and her personality and doesn’t know Monty? Well, maybe, but again, Charles shows no sign of distrusting Monty at all.

Monty is a boy. Okay. So something about seeing Edwin so close to a boy that is not him, getting lost in thought over something this boy gave him, really rubs Charles the wrong way. Charles appears to catch on just as quickly as anyone else that there is something (or it looks like something) between Edwin and Monty. He is not surprised when Edwin comes out to him in episode 6, and in fact, seems to have just been waiting for him to verbalize it. He smiles and is not bothered at all by Edwin showing (what he thinks is) a romantic interest in Monty - he just doesn’t like it when Monty clearly shows a romantic interest in Edwin. Um. Well. Well.

Charles is jealous. I really don’t know what else to say.

Look, when I first watched this show, I actually didn’t want them to end up together romantically - I love the idea of one having fallen in love with another who does not reciprocate and the two of them still loving each other just as much. That Edwin’s confession made them closer instead of making things awkward is such a beautiful outcome to this build up and I absolutely love it. However. On my two rewatches, I caught a lot more little details, and I think it would be very strange if the show did not follow up on this. That, plus the deliberate quality of these “jealousy” moments where the camera focuses on him, Charles’ Orpheus coding throughout the show, the fact that Edwin’s arc was far more about realizing his feelings for Charles specifically than just coming to terms with his sexuality, and that even the actors admit that Charles’ response to the confession kind of left things open, it really seems to me like the path leads to a romantic endgame for them, or at the very least, that this possibility will be explored in more depth.

**This is just my reading of it. Please do not use this post as a gotcha for anyone who loves them as a platonic duo or people who really love Crystal and Charles together (because let’s face it, they’re super cute too). I’m just doing my rambles. As per usual.

[weebsinstash]

I'm so angry. They told me to wait so Allister could pass things on his own and so little has come out of him they want me to come back but they want me to come in through an appointment in the afternoon instead of the urgent care and, they're literally having me come in 3 hours before they close.

That's not enough time for them to do anything, to monitor him, administer multiple enemas, anything. I'm not even sure the deobstipation is worth it because i guess I need to clarify, that's just a fancy word for "digging stuff out by hand so you can like only get so much out as far as your fingers can reach anyways despite how risky the procedure is"

They genuinely should've just done it like weeks ago if they thought he would need it at all. They kept having me come back over and over and over and over despite me literally telling them I had to crowdfund his veterinary care and now I'm going to be spending almost 2 grand in payment plans over the next year. They could've just spent one day giving him as many enemas as possible until he was empty but then we have to give them time to even work, so....

I kept telling them over and over that there was a risk I would spend so much money on vet care that I couldn't euthanize him and all of these treatments have almost completely drained my funds and then they tell me "oh jsyk constipation is like an extremely agonizing way to die uwu". I would have to forward money and completely empty out my savings account to afford rent and his treatment if they want surgery today. My rent might even be late and unlike my last landlord who was an individual unit owner, this is a management company that will charge you $75 late fees after so many days

Every appointment has been over 100, 200, 300 dollars and I've had like 5 or 6 of them at this point and he's still not pooping, at least not a lot; he's dropping marble sized pieces kind of, everywhere. I just. Jesus fucking christ if he isn't getting better like??? I can't??? Do anything else? I can't be homeless in this area; there are literally homeless addicts breaking into my locked apartment building to sleep in our laundry room and the stairwell. I cannot be homeless again.

I just also. There's trauma there too. I can't do what my mom constantly did and drive myself into debt over an animal and risk my housing if there's not a good prognosis. That abusive crazy cunt literally stopped trimming her aggressive dog's nails until the poor thing literally started becoming paralyzed and then she was working 12, 16 hour shifts and leaving this poor thing along in an apartment to pee on pads and her carpet. And SHE'S the one who has Allister's mom :(

I just. Have to see. Maybe I'll give them a phonecall and see if I can come in earlier. I'm just so mad. They never even gave me a quote for how much it would cost to euthanize him. I might have to put down my happy cuddly baby or wait for him to conpletely deteriorate. I can't wait to open up commissions no one will want or be happy with so I can financially recover from my cat dying.

[bumblingbabooshka]

Vengv'la is a Vulcan Engineer! [Patreon | Commissions]

[zoobus]

Fantasizing about going no contact with my extended family, not because of abuse or anything but because they're annoying and I dislike feeling obligated to return even superficial pleasantries with them once a month

[braceletofteeth]

If you want to be happy, I hope it comes true.

I hope you will be happy too.

[qserasera]

ohhhh u kno

what would be hecked up

if after that one flashback scene when mizu gets stabbed and collapses

instead of her mother rescuing mizu and later getting married to mikio etc.

she gets saved by heiji shindo (who she has no idea has a connection to fowler)

and later acts as like, a masked court guard to him (since the whole mask hides her face) when he has to visit the shogun to do court stuff

ends up learning about social intrigue/manipulations/power plays by observing him at his official day job

also ends up seeing him as a secondary father figure of sorts

until :))

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 20 …

oh my gods chapter 20…

I am dead inside.

And somehow dying more per chapter.

Ow. THE NIGHTMARE DREAM SEQUENCE

"Do you know the story of the queen who walked through worlds?"

Seated on the mossy carpet of an ancient glen, one hand toying with the small white flowers strewn across it, Aelin shook her head.

In the towering oaks that formed a lattice over the clearing, small stars blinked and shimmered, as if they'd been snared by the branches themselves. Beyond them, bathing the forest with light bright enough to see by, a full moon had risen. All around them, faint, lilting singing floated on the warm summer air.

"It is a sad story," her aunt said, one corner of her red-painted mouth curling upward as she leaned back on her seat carved into a granite boulder. Her usual place, while they had these lessons, these long, peaceful chats deep into the balmy summer nights. "And an old one."

Aelin lifted an eyebrow. "Aren't I a little old for faerie stories?" She'd indeed just celebrated her twentieth birthday three days ago, in another clearing not too far from here. Half of Doranelle had come, it had seemed, and yet her mate had found a way to sneak her from the revelry. All the way to a secluded pool in the forest's heart. Her face still warmed to think of that moonlit swim, what Rowan had made her feel, how he'd worshipped her in the sun-warmed water.

Mate. The word was still a surprise. As it had been to arrive here at spring's end and see him beside her aunt's throne and simply know. And in the months since, their courting ... Aelin indeed blushed at the thought of it. What they'd done in that forest pool had been the culmination of those months. And an unleashing. The mating marks on her neck— and on Rowan's-proved it. She would not be returning to Terrasen alone when autumn arrived.

"No one is too old for faerie stories," her aunt said, faint smile growing. "And as you are part faerie yourself, I would think you'd have some interest in them."

Aelin smiled back, bowing her head. "Fair enough, Aunt."

Aunt wasn't entirely accurate, not with generations and millennia separating them, but it was the only thing the queen had suggested Aelin call her.

Maeve settled further into her seat. "Long ago, when the world was new, when there were no human kingdoms, when no wars had marred the earth, a young queen was born."

Aelin folded her legs beneath her, angling her head.

"She did not know she was a queen. Amongst her people, power was not inherited, but simply born. And as she grew, her strength rose with her. She found the land she dwelled in to be too small for that power. Too dark and cold and grim. She had gifts similar to many wielded by her kind, but she had been given more, her power a sharper, more intricate weapon-enough that she was different. Her people saw that power and bowed to it, and she ruled them.

"Word spread of her gifts, and three kings came to seek her hand. To form an alliance between their throne and the one she had built for herself, small as it might have been. For a time, she thought it would be the newness, the challenge that she had always craved. The three kings were brothers, each mighty in his own right, their power vast and terrifying. She picked the eldest among them, not for any particular skill or grace, but for his countless libraries. What she might learn in his lands, what she might do with her power ... It was that knowledge she craved, not the king himself."

A strange story. Aelin's brows rose, but her aunt continued on.

"So they were wed, and she left her small territory to join him in his castle. For a time, she was contented, both by her husband and the knowledge his home offered her. He and his two brothers were conquerors, and spent much of their time away, leashing new lands to their shared throne. She did not mind, not when it gave her freedom to learn as she would. But her husband's libraries contained knowledge even he did not realize was held within. Lore and wisdom from worlds long since turned to dust. She learned that there were indeed other worlds. Not the dark, blasted realm in which they lived, but worlds beyond that, living atop one another and never realizing it. Worlds where the sun was not a watery trickle through the ash-clouds, but a golden stream of warmth. Worlds where green existed. She had never heard of such a color. Green. Nor had she heard of blue-not the shade of sky that was described. She could not so much as picture it."

Aelin frowned. "A pitiful existence."

Maeve nodded grimly. "It was. And the more she read about these other worlds, where long-dead wayfarers had once roamed, the more she wanted to see them. To know the kiss of the sun on her face. To hear the morning songs of sparrows, the crying of gulls over the sea. The sea that, too, was foreign to her. An endless sprawl of water, with its own moods and hidden depths. All they had in her lands were shallow, murky lakes and half-dried streams. So while her husband and his two brothers were off waging yet another war, she began to ponder how she might find a way into one of those worlds. How she might leave."

"Is such a thing even possible?" Something nagged at her, as if it might indeed be true, but perhaps that was one of her own mother's tales, or even Marion's, tugging on her memory.

Maeve nodded. "It was. Using the very language of existence itself, doors might be opened, however briefly, between worlds. It was forbidden, outlawed long before her husband and his brothers were born. Once the last of the ancient wayfarers had died out, the paths between realms were sealed, their methods of world-walking lost with them. Or so all had thought. But deep in her husband's private library, she found the old spells. She began with small experiments. First, she opened a door to the realm of resting, to find one of those wayfarers and ask her how it was properly done." A knowing smile. "The wayfarer refused to tell her. So the queen began to teach herself. Opening and closing doors long since forgotten or sealed. Peering deep into the workings of the cosmos. Her own world became a cage. She grew tired of her husband's warring, his casual cruelty. And when he went away to war once again, the queen gathered her closest handmaidens, opened a door to a new world, and left the one she'd been born into."

"She left?" Aelin blurted. "She she just left her own world? Permanently?"

"It had never been her world, not really. She had been born to rule others."

"Where did she go?"

That smile grew a bit. "To a fair, lovely world. Where there was no war, no darkness. Not like that in which she had been born. She was made a queen there, too. Was able to hide herself within a new body so that none could know what she was beneath, so that even her own husband would not recognize her."

"Did he ever find her again?"

"No, though he looked. Found out all she'd learned, and taught it to himself and his brothers. They tore apart world after world to find her. And when they arrived at the world where she had made her new home, they did not know her. Even as they went to war, she did not reveal herself. She won, and two of the kings, her husband included, were banished back to their own world. The third remained trapped, his power nearly broken. He crawled off into the depths of the earth, and the victorious queen spent her long, long existence preparing for his return, preparing her people for it. For the three kings had gone beyond her methods of world-walking. They had found a way to permanently open a gate between worlds, and had made three keys to do so. To wield those keys was to control all worlds, to have the power of eternity in the palm of your hand. She wished to find them, only so she might possess the strength to banish any enemies, banish her husband's youngest brother back to his realm. To protect her new, lovely world. It was all she ever wanted: to dwell in peace, without the shadow of her past hunting her."

From far away, that ghost of memory pushed. As if she'd forgotten to douse a flame left burning in her room. "And did the queen find the keys?"

Maeve's smile turned sad. "Do you think she did, Aelin?"

Aelin considered. So many of their chats, their lessons in this glen, held deeper puzzles, questions for her to work through, to help her when she one day took her throne, Rowan at her side.

As if she'd summoned him, the pine-and-snow scent of her mate filled the clearing. A rustle of wings, and there he was, perched in hawk form on one of the towering oaks. Her warrior-prince.

She smiled toward him, as she had for weeks now, when he'd come to escort her back to her rooms in the river palace. It was during those walks from forest to mist-shrouded city that she had come to know him, love him. More than she had ever loved anything.

Aelin again faced her aunt. "The queen was clever, and ambitious. I would think she could do anything, even find the keys."

"So you would believe. And yet they eluded her."

"Where did they go?"

Maeve's dark stare unwaveringly held hers.

"Where do you think they went?"

Aelin opened her mouth. "I think —

She blinked. Paused

Maeve's smile returned, soft and kind. As her aunt had been to her from the start. "Where do you think the keys are, Aelin?"

She opened her mouth once more. And again halted.

Like an invisible chain yanked her back. Silenced her.

Chain—a chain. She glanced down at her hands, her wrists. As if expecting them to be there.

She had never felt a shackle's bite in her life. And yet she stared at the empty place on her wrist where she could have sworn there was a scar. Only smooth, sun-kissed skin remained.

"If this world were at risk, if those three terrible kings threatened to destroy it, where would you go to find the keys?" Aelin looked up at her aunt.

Another world. There was another world Like a fragment of a dream, there was another world, and in it, she had a wrist with a scar on it. Had scars all over.

And her mate, perched overhead ... He had a tattoo down his face and neck and arm in that world. A sad story—his tattoo told a sad, awful story. About loss. Loss caused by a dark queen.

"Where are the keys hidden, Aelin?" That placid, loving smile remained on

Maeve's face. And yet ...

And yet.

"No," Aelin breathed

Something slithered in the depths of her aunt's stare. "No what?"

This wasn't her existence, her life. This place, these blissful months learning in Doranelle, finding her mate—Blood and sand and crashing waves.

"No."

Her voice was a thunderclap through the peaceful glen.

Aelin bared her teeth, fingers curling in the moss.

Maeve let out a soft laugh. Rowan flapped from the branches to land on the queen's upraised arm.

He didn't so much as fight it when she wrapped her thin white hands around his neck. And snapped it. Aelin screamed. Screamed, clutching at her chest, at the shredding mating bond—

She screamed again. Screamed at her ruined arm, the unscarred skin, screamed at the lingering echo of the severed mating bond.

"Do you know what pains me most, Aelin?" Maeve's words were soft as a lover's. "It's that you believe I'm the villain in this."

Whenever that had been. If it had even happened at all.

"I have no doubt that your mate or Elena or even Brannon himself filled your head with lies about what I'll do with the keys." Maeve ran a hand over the stone lip of the altar, right through her splattered blood and shards of bone. "I meant what I said. I like this world. I do not wish to destroy it. Only improve it. Imagine a realm where there is no hunger, no pain. Isn't that what you and your cohorts are fighting for? A better world?"

The words were a mockery. A mockery of what she'd promised so many. What she had promised Terrasen, and still owed it.

Aelin tried not to shift against the chains, against her broken arms, against the tight pressure pushing on her skin from the inside. A rising intensity along her bones, in her head. little more, every day.

Maeve heaved a small sigh. "I know what you think of me, Fire-Bringer. What you assume. But there are some truths that cannot be shared. Even for the keys." Yet the growing strain cracking within her, smothering the pain ... perhaps worse. Maeve cupped her cheek over the mask.

"The Queen Who Was Promised. I wish to save you from that sacrifice, offered up by a headstrong girl." A soft laugh. "I'd even let you have Rowan. The two of you here, together. While you and I work to save this world."

The words were lies. She knew it, though she couldn't quite remember where one truth ended and the lie began. If her mate had belonged to another before her. Been given away. Or had that been the nightmare?

Gods, the pressure in her body. Her blood.

You do not yield.

"You can feel it, even now," Maeve went on. "The urge of your body to say yes." Aelin opened her eyes, and confusion must have glittered there, because Maeve smiled. "Do you know what being encased in iron does to a magic-wielder? You wouldn't feel it immediately, but as time goes on ... your magic needs release, Aelin. That pressure is your magic screaming it wants you to come free of these chains and release the strain. Your very blood tells you to heed me."

Truth. Not the submission part, but the deepening pressure she knew would be worse than any pain from burnout. She'd felt it once, when plunging as far into her power as she'd ever gone.

That would be nothing compared to this.

"I am leaving for a few days," Maeve said.

Aelin stilled.

Maeve shook her head in a mockery of disappointment.

Fenrys sat by the wall, concern bright in his eyes as he blinked. Are you all right?

She blinked twice. No.

No, she was not anywhere near to all right.

Maeve had been waiting for this, waiting for this pressure to begin, worse than anything Cairn might do. And with the collar Maeve now went to personally retrieve … She couldn't let herself contemplate it. A more horrific form of slavery, one she might never escape, never be able to fight.

Not a breaking of the Fire-Bringer, but an erasure.

To take all she was, power and knowledge, and rip it from her. To have her trapped inside while she witnessed her own voice yield the location of the Wyrdkeys. Swear the blood oath to Maeve. Wholly submit to her.

Fenrys blinked four times. I am here, I am with you.

She answered in kind. I am here, I am with you.

Her magic surged, seeking a way out, filling the gaps between her breath and bones. She couldn't find room for it, couldn't do anything to soothe it.

You do not yield.

She focused on the words. On her mother's voice. Perhaps the magic would devour her from the inside before Maeve returned.

But she did not know how she'd endure it.

Endure another few days of this, let alone the next hour. To ease the strain, just a fraction ...

She shut down the thoughts that snaked into her mind. Her own or Maeve's, she didn't care.

Fenrys blinked again, the same message over and over. I am here, I am with you.

Aelin closed her eyes, praying for oblivion.

"Get up." A mockery of words she'd once heard.

[mdshh]

Next up ages up Stephen! He entered his teenage years now, such a big guy 🤧

[suffarustuffaru]

i need to tell you guys about this crack treated seriously post arc 5 au i made in my head. ok so basically reinhard turns into a borzoi dog and then ottos the only one who understands him and heinkels along for the ride and yes i know this is like a reverse brave as in brave like the pixar film but— *gets shot*

[arundolyn]

on one hand it sucks cause it sucks to see her like this and for her to have to go through it in general and also its literally so much cancer and like at least???? at LEAST 2 different types???? so they don't know what to do about it and any further treatment would literally just be Seeing What Happens. and it sucks for this to be like. it. and to have to remember This after

but on the other it's also. like. all of this happening has kinda crystallized more in my mind that i don't have a hell of a lot of nice things to say about my mom in the end. which feels awful. but also at the same time i can't really like.. tolerate. giving credit to someone who Loves me who like.. saw it as an obligation? and would and probably will right now if given the opportunity hold it over my head? the fact that she raised me and all. i brought you into this world ill take you out etc. i don't know how you can say that shit to a kid ever and think you're right. i just can't. for all that she's always said she loves me she sure. doesn't act like it much. i don't think keeping all my baby blankets and my kindergarten schoolwork counts for much when your actual emotional support of me has never been great and is half of why im Like This. like it doesn't really feel like she's ever made much of an effort to understand me. lord knows I'll never understand her at this point aside from just. kinda always been too self centered for parenting i think. my mother has never been particularly selfless.

all of this feels horrendous to say out loud in any regard

[bonefall]

I’m aroace- i would be honored if you made blackstar aro you could frame it as him thinking he’s “to busy” for a mate and he can definitely turn on the attraction and definitely has it he swears, because that’s something a lot of aros go through (including me…). Of course i am not the only aro person in the world so if someone else from the community has different opinions they should share

See like, the issue would be that I can't really "frame" his aromanticism any way and that is the problem; Blackstar has a lot of importance in the narrative as a character who has been one of the worst examples of Thistle Law, and spends his entire life trying to make up for how ugly he made his Clan

There isn't room here to dive into exploring his aromanticism if that's the label that settles on him. He's about guilt, making up for your mistakes and preventing the past from repeating itself with daily diligence.

There can't be "oh I swear I have romantic attraction im just busy right now i swear" and a final realization that it was an excuse. He is constantly busy. His guilt and dedication does prevent him from exploring his romantic life.

So, is that okay? Is it okay for a character who is aromantic to never realize that about themselves because they are both distracted and fulfilled by the things that happen in their lives? For guilt to be a major factor in that?

Or would it be better to not use this label for him?

[snowshinobi]

controversial hamlet opinion several hundred years late but guys let's face it: hamlet adores the sound of his own voice. so much he breaks the fourth wall to ramble. he fully commits to the visual presentation of grief. head to toe black. his own mother, wife of the dead man, asks hamlet to tone it down. he refuses. hamlet pretends to go insane so he can investigate his dad's suspected murder out in the open. he sets up a play WITHIN HIS OWN PLAY to give his shitty uncle the heebie-jeebies.

guys. hamlet is having fun. oh he's in agony, unequivocally: he grows numb to his friends as he realizes he cannot trust anyone. he loses his grip on his identity, his truth -- maybe he is truly mad after all, no act. he falls prey to the same murderous betrayal he set out to solve in the first place. his own story eats him.

but GUYS. hamlet had fun. despite everything.

[dawnthefluffyduck]