#it's in the damn script lol

[randomnameless]

I didn’t know people were starting shit now

https://www.tumblr.com/raxistaicho/726578348498812928/httpswwwtumblrcomrandomnameless7265622248591?source=share

Sometimes it's funny how people follow predictable patterns!

I wonder if this means I'll get new "totally unrelated" anon asks or not?

[juaneloriginal]

wow death

i love drawing black like like this, makes him look kinda scary

@blackkatdraws

[nachosncheezies]

In defense of late-canon x files (including the revivals)

I was thinking about this poll after I commented on it, and I kinda want to be brave and say more.

Short answer to the poll's question before I go any further: If you're a new fan and a sensitive sort who thinks you'll struggle with your blorbos Really Going Through It and you really need a happy ending, I suggest you stop at the end of season 8. Do not pass go, do not look at spoilers. Disregard this post entirely, close the internet, and go look at something that makes you happy. (Also fuck every part of society that characterizes sensitivity as inherently weak and bad and some kind of personal failing, you are valid.)

That said, "quality" as a concept is entirely subjective, and the question of whether or not there's a decline in quality for any story is wholly subjective, too. In the case of x files? I'm not convinced there is a decline. I am going to be upfront that I haven't yet watched past season 8, though I am almost completely spoiled on events after that - and the reason I haven't watched yet is not because of how I know events are going to unfold, but simply because I don't want it to end!!! Ohh, the tension between "I CAN'T WAIT!!!" and "Nooo don't be over D:"

When I first came to txf fandom on tumblr and gradually became spoiled about what happens in late canon though, I was often left uncomfortable and tbh kinda queasy about it. As I said in my comment on the poll, the hate for especially the revival and IWTB, or to a lesser extent even seasons 8 & 9, is very well documented. But! There are other takes to be found here on tumblr if you figure out where to look, and my feelings have changed!

The thing is, I have yet to find myself in any fandom where there isn't a vocal subset of fans who dislike the story after a certain point. I am not joking when I say that no one hates the things they love as passionately as sci-fi and fantasy fans. In my experience, it often hinges on the extent to which a viewer has strong notions on where they would like the characters to end up. In particular with series where shipping is a dominant component for the bulk of a fandom, I have almost universally found that there comes some turning point in the story where "let them be happy you cowards" is the dominant view, and things that compromise the attainment of a degree of romantic stability and/or domesticity are, to many fans, annoying at best and despicable at worst. But! As one tagset on the linked poll said:

and I think for any fandom, that last tag especially is so so so important. (I think that's harder for people watching a weekly series live, bc you have so much time to analyze and speculate and dream before the next breadcrumb drops, but I digress.)

So why am I saying this and how do I apply it to x files? Well, I eventually found that there are also a subset of fans who find redeeming things right up to the very end and actually quite like the whole thing! The things that I had seen people rage and ventpost so much about honestly never quite sounded to me as "out of character" or "untrue to the story" etc as those same ventposts made them sound. And I've discovered I'm not the only one who felt that way. Do I love that the spooky squad had to go through all of those things? No, those poor guys D: Life is hard and they have been through so much trauma. But do those events and their choices make sense to me in light of everything that came before? Yes! And I honestly can't wait to see them fight to overcome those things, breaking, healing, always learning, always growing, always getting better.

So if you're wondering "where does it go wrong"... well, I'm a completionist, as many people who've answered that post are, but also my personal opinion is that I don't think it does go wrong. If you're new and interested in exploring why I've gone from "vaguely queasy" to "excited" about the whole thing, or want to maybe balance out the impressions you're getting about the later seasons before deciding whether or not you want to see the whole thing, I'll put a few blog names in the comments.

Final admission: even once I started feeling a little more confident in the possibility that "actually ok maybe I'm not crazy, maybe this all kind of is in character and does make sense", there was one big plot point that I was NOT looking forward to and I thought I would never be comfortable about. In hindsight, I think my discomfort came from the negative responses being SO seemingly universal that I hadn't stopped to let myself truly consider other possible interpretations on that point. (I mean my initial instinct when I first read about it was, why are we mad about this?? CSM is literally the most unreliable narrator in history???? it's obviously fake news?????? this must be either a fever dream someone's having or it's a misdirection ploy against whatever shadowy forces might still be lurking?????????????? but for whatever reason I guess I had halfway written that off.) Happily, just last month there's a new post-s11 novel out, and although reviews for the book as a whole are mixed, it seems to have laid the groundwork for resolving that plot issue in a way I think most fans would be broadly happy with. If you're interested in being spoiled about that and seeing how, I recommend searching #perihelion on @agent-troi who liveblogged reading it with receipts, scroll back chronological-style to the first post on the subject and see how it unfolded. (And never forget that Dana Katherine Scully is the queen of denial as a coping mechanism lol)

Everyone's mileage will vary. Each person can feel however they want! But for anyone new, I wanted you to know that the very many ventposts you might be seeing are not all there is to this show or its fandom. Some of us love it despite - or even because of - all the things that went "wrong". I think we just don't talk about it as much.

[charmac]

Cut Mac and Dee scene from The Gang Finds a Dumpster Baby in which Dee attempts to leave D.B. at a police station:

[stupidhany]

Thinking of them again

[no1ryomafan]

I’m not someone to complain about dubs cause I REALLY don’t care what people watch unless it’s a really inaccurate dub but there is something so infuriating about a dub that has a solid voice cast and direction but then you compare the sub and quality wise there on a similar level but then you see how they change lines, pause and go “what the fuck”

(I am talking about the casshern sins dub which- god damn it funanimation)

[cerealmonster15]

Actually I am in fact having a very silly fic idea and I want to write it but it’s well past 1am and I should be ASLEEP!!! But im jotting down notes….

[hecksupremechips]

Ralsei deltarune is literally so sketchy but also have we considered. That’s hes cute your honor have we considered this

[0dotexe]

Hello hi I am so normal about my current fictional crush (P03)

[hua-fei-hua]

due to a series of wacky hijinks, am watching a recording of a peking opera called "a drunken concubine", but the only subtitles are in simplified chinese so like fuck me i guess. anyway having read a summary in english beforehand i at least know the gist of the plot, and i am, like, surprisingly enthralled by what's going on

[anders-hawke]

you could even say that greek mythology is my achilles heel

[grandmofftarkinsuggestions]

i'm assuming this is an alt cut/take. i've talked a bit about how much i love the physicality of peter cushing's acting, and, while i think these line deliveries are weaker (and even the word choices are blander) than what was in the movie, i do find his body language here fascinating.

peter was all about small mannerisms and subtle details with his characters, and he utilizes this when tarkin physically intimidates leia in this scene (physically backing her up against vader, grabbing her chin, etc.,) in both this take and the one actually used. his physical proximity to the camera by being filmed from the waist up (something they initially weren't going to do until peter requested so to be able to wear more comfy shoes on set) could've severely limited the scenes with tarkin, but instead just add more emphasis to his subtle movements and physical intimidation.

even the parts when he isn't standing directly next to leia, the camera is angled in a way that makes him take up so much of the screen that he feels closer. part of me wishes that they had kept/shown him pushing leia back with his arm after he turns away from her, but the final cut feels more claustrophobic, powerful, and emotional by instead focusing on leia's anguished reaction as she lunges forward.

[pxper-cranes]

TikTok trying to create their own Goncharov without understanding the first thing about its conception and why it was effective. Istg there's always someone trying to outdo the doer

[aromanticasterisms]

collei's coming back to mond for windblume :'']]]

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 66

Chapter; Highlights, etc. (you know the drill😂)

Aelin awoke to the scent of pine and snow, and knew she was home.

Not in Terrasen, not yet, but in the sense she would always be home, if Rowan was with her.

His steady breaths filled her right ear, the sound of the well and truly asleep, and the arm he'd draped across her middle was a solid, warm weight. Silvery light glazed the ancient stones of the ceiling.

Morning—or a cloudy day. The halls beyond the room offered shards of sound that she sorted through, piece by piece, as if she were assembling a broken mirror that might reveal the world beyond

Apparently, it had been three days since the battle. And the rest of the khagan's army, led by Prince Kashin, his third-eldest son, had arrived.

It was that tidbit that had her rising fully to consciousness, a hand sliding to Rowan's arm.

A caress of a touch, just to see how deeply the rejuvenating sleep held him. Three days, they'd slept here, unaware of the world. A dangerous, vulnerable time for any magic-wielder, when their bodies demanded a deep sleep to recover from expending so much power.

That was another sliver she'd picked up: Gavriel sat outside their door. In mountain lion form. People drew quiet when they approached, not realizing that as soon as they passed him, their whispers of That strange, terrifying cat could be detected by Fae ears.

Aelin ran a finger over the seam of Rowan's sleeve, feeling the corded muscle beneath. Clear her head, her body felt clear. Like the first icy breath inhaled on a winter's morning.

During the days they'd slept, no nightmare had shaken her awake, hunted her. A small, merciful reprieve.

Aelin swallowed, her throat dry. What had been real, what Maeve had tried to plant in her mind-did it matter, whether the pain had been true or imagined?

She had gotten out, gotten away from Maeve and Cairn. Facing the broken bits inside her would come later.

For now, it was enough to have this clarity back. Even though releasing her power, expending that mighty blow here, had not been her plan.

Aelin slid her gaze toward Rowan, his harsh face softened into handsomeness by sleep. And clean—the gore that had splattered them both was gone. Someone must have washed it away while they slept.

As if he sensed her attention, or just felt the lingering hand on his arm, Rowan's eyes cracked open. He scanned her from head to toe, deemed everything all right, and met her stare.

"Show-off," he muttered.

Aelin patted his arm. "You put on a pretty fancy display yourself, Prince."

He smiled, his tattoo crinkling. "Will that display be the last of your surprises, or are there more coming?"

She debated it-telling him, revealing it.

Maybe.

Rowan sat up, the blanket sliding from him.

Is this the sort of surprise that will end with my heart stopping dead in my chest?

She snorted, propping her head with a fist as she traced idle marks over the scratchy blanket.

"I sent a letter-when we were at that port in Wendlyn."

Rowan nodded. "To Aedion."

"To Aedion," she said, quietly enough that Gavriel couldn't hear from his spot outside the door. "And to your uncle. And to Essar." Rowan's brows rose. "Saying what?" She hummed to herself. "Saying that I was indeed imprisoned by Maeve, and that while 1 was her captive, she laid out some rather nefarious plans."

Her mate went still. "With what goal in mind?"

Aelin sat up, and picked at her nails.

"Convincing them to disband her army. Start a revolt in Doranelle. Kick Maeve off the throne. You know, small things."

Rowan just looked at her. Then scrubbed at his face. "You think a letter could do that?"

"It was strongly worded." He gaped a bit. "What sort of nefarious plans did you mention?"

"Desire to conquer the world, her complete lack of interest in sparing Fae lives in a war, her interest in Valg things." She swallowed. "I might have mentioned that she's possibly Valg."

Rowan started. Aelin shrugged. "It was a lucky guess. The best lies are always mixed with truth."

"Suggesting Maeve is Valg is a fairly outlandish lie, even for you. Even if it turned out to be true."

She waved a hand. "We'll see if anything comes of it."

"If it works, if they somehow revolt and the army turns against her..." He shook his head, laughing softly. "It'd be a boon in this war."

"I scheme and lie so grandly, and that's all the credit I get?"

Rowan flicked her nose. "You'll get credit if her army doesn't show up. Until then, we prepare as if they are. Which is highly likely." At her frown, he said, "Essar doesn't wield much power, and my uncle doesn't take many risks. Not like Enda and Sellene. For them to overthrow Maeve ... it would be monumental. If they even survived it."

Her stomach churned. "It's their choice, what they do. I only laid out the facts." Carefully worded facts and half guesses. An absolute gamble, if she was being honest.

Rowan smirked. "And other than attempting to overthrow Maeve's throne? Any other surprises I should know about?"

Her smile faded as she lay back down, Rowan doing the same beside her. "There are no more." At his raised brows, she added, "I swear it on my throne. There are no more left."

The amusement in his eyes guttered. "I don't know whether to be relieved."

"Everything I know, you know. All the cards are on the table now."

With the various armies that had gathered, with the Lock, with all of it.

"Do you think you could do it again?" he asked. "Draw up that much power?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. It required being ... contained. With the irons."

A shadow darkened his face, and he rolled onto his side, propping up his head. "I've never seen anything like it."

"You never will again." It was the truth.

"If the cost of that much power is what you endured, then I'll be glad not to."

Aelin ran a hand down the powerful muscles of his thigh, fingers snagging in the rip of fabric just above his knee. "I didn't feel you get this wound through the mating bond," she said, grazing the thick ridge of the new scar. A trophy from the battle. She made herself meet his piercing stare. Did Maeve somehow break that part of it? That part of us?

"No," he breathed, and stroked the hair from her brow. "I've realized that the bond only conveys the pain of the gravest wounds."

She touched the spot on his shoulder where Asterin Blackbeak's arrow had pierced him all those months ago. The moment she'd known what he was to her.

"It was why I didn't know what was happening to you on the beach," Rowan said roughly. Because the whipping, brutal and unbearable as it had been, hadn't brought her to the brink of death. Only into an iron coffin.

She scowled. "If you're about to tell me that you feel guilty for it—"

"We both have things to grapple with—about what happened these months."

A glance at him, and she knew he was well aware of what still clouded her soul.

And because he was the only person who saw everything she was and did not walk away from it, Aelin said, "I wanted that fire to be for Maeve."

"I know." Such simple words, and yet it meant everything-that understanding.

"I wanted it to make things ... better." She loosed a long breath. "To wipe it all away." Every memory and nightmare and lie.

"It will take a while, Aelin. To face it, work through it."

"I don't have a while."

His jaw tensed. "That remains to be seen." She didn't bother arguing. Not as she admitted, "I want it to be over."

He went wholly still, but granted her the space to think, to speak.

"I want it to be over and done with," she said hoarsely. "This war, the gods and the Wyrdgate and the Lock. All of it." She rubbed her temples, pushing past the weight, the lingering stain that no fire might cleanse. "I want to go to Terrasen, to fight, and then I want it to be over."

She'd wanted it to be over since she'd learned the true cost of forging the Lock anew.

Had wanted it to be over with each of Cairn's lashes on the beach in Eyllwe. And all he'd done to her afterward. Whatever it might bring about, however it might end, she wanted it to be over.

She didn't know who and what it made her.

Rowan remained silent for a long moment before he said, "Then we will make sure the khagan's host goes north. Then we will return to Terrasen and crush Erawan's armies." He brought her hands to his mouth for a swift kiss.

"And then, after all that, we'll see about this damned Lock." Uncompromising will filled his every breath, the air around them.

She let it be enough for both of them.

Tucked away his words, his vow, all those promises between them and extended her palm in the air between them.

She summoned the magic-the drop of water her mother's bloodline had given her.

Mab's bloodline.

A tiny ball of water took form in her hand. Over the calluses she'd so carefully rebuilt.

She let the gentle, cooling power trickle over her. Let it smooth the jagged bits inside herself and sing them to sleep. Her mother's gift.

You do not yield.

When the Lock took everything, would it claim this part as well? This most precious part of her power? She tucked away those thoughts, too.

Concentrating, gritting her teeth, Aelin commanded the ball of water to rotate in her palm.

A wobble was all she got in answer.

She snorted. "Faerie Queen of the West indeed."

Rowan huffed a quiet laugh. "Keep practicing. In a thousand years, you might actually be able to do something with it."

She whacked his arm, the droplet of water soaking into the sleeve of his shirt. "It's a wonder I learned anything from you with that sort of encouragement." She shook the wetness from her hand. Right into his face.

Rowan nipped at her nose. "I do keep a tally, Princess. Of all the horrible things that come out of your mouth."

Her toes curled, and she dragged her fingers through his hair, luxuriating in the silken strands. "How shall I pay for this one?"

On the other side of the door, she could have sworn that cat-soft feet quickly padded away.

People gawked in the halls, some whispering as they passed.

The queen and her consort. Where do you think they've been these past few days?

I heard they went into the mountains and brought the wild men back with them.

I heard they've been weaving spells around the city, to protect it against Morath.

Rowan was still smirking when Aelin emerged from the communal ladies' bathing room.

"See?" She fell into step beside him as they aimed not for their room and ravishment, but for the hallway where food had been laid out.

"You're starting to like the notoriety."

Rowan arched a brow. "You think that everywhere I've gone for the past three hundred years, whispers haven't followed me?" She rolled her eyes, but he chuckled. "This is far better than Cold-hearted bastard or I heard he killed someone with a table leg."

"You did kill someone with a table leg." Rowan's smirk grew.

"And you are a cold-hearted bastard," she threw in.

Rowan snorted. "I never said those whispers were lies."

Aelin looped her arm through his. "I'm going to start a rumor about you, then. Something truly grotesque."

He groaned. "I dread the thought of what you might come up with."

She adopted a harsh whisper as they passed a group of human soldiers. "You flew back onto the battlefield to peck out the eyes of our enemies?" Her gasp echoed off the rock. "And ate those eyes?"

One of the soldiers tripped, the others whipping their heads to them. Rowan pinched her shoulder. "Thank you for that."

She inclined her head. "You're very welcome."

Aelin kept smiling as they found food and ate a quick lunch-it was midday, they'd learned-sitting side by side in a dusty, half-forgotten stairwell. Much like the days they'd spent in Mistward, knee to knee and shoulder to shoulder in the kitchen while listening to Emrys's stories.

Though unlike those months this spring, when Aelin set down her plate between her feet, she slid her arms around Rowan's neck and his mouth instantly met hers.

No, it was certainly not at all like their time at Mistward as she crawled into Rowan's lap, not entirely caring that anyone might stride up or down the stairs, and kissed him silly.

They halted, breathless and wild-eyed, before she could decide that it really wouldn't be a bad idea…

… If Aelin was being honest with herself, she was still debating hauling him into the nearest closet when they set off to find their companions at last. One glance at Rowan's glazed eyes and she knew he was debating the same.

Yet even the desire heating her blood cooled when they entered the ancient study near the top of the keep and beheld the gathered group. Fenrys and Gavriel were already there, Chaol with them, no sign of Elide or Lorcan.

But Chaol's father, unfortunately, was present. And glowered as they entered the meeting that seemed well under way. Aelin gave him a mocking smile and sauntered up to the large desk.

A tall, broad-shouldered man stood with Nesryn, Sartaq, and Hasar, handsome and brimming with a sort of impatient energy. His brown eyes were welcoming, his smile easy.

She liked him immediately.

"My brother," Hasar said, waving a hand without looking up from the map. "Kashin." The prince sketched a graceful bow.

Aelin offered one back, Rowan doing the same. "An honor," Aelin said. "Thank you for coming."

"You can actually thank my father for that. And Yrene," said Kashin, his use of their language as flawless as his siblings'.

Indeed, Aelin had much to thank the healer for.

Nesryn's sharp eyes scanned Aelin from head to toe. "You're feeling all right?"

"Just needed to rest." Aelin jerked her chin at Rowan. "He requires frequent naps in his old age."

Sartaq coughed, keeping his head down as he continued studying the map.

Fenrys, however, laughed. "Back to your good spirits, I see."

Aelin smirked at Chaol's straight-backed father. "We'll see how long it lasts."

The man said nothing.

Rowan motioned to the desk and asked the royals, "Have you decided-where you shall march now?"

Such a casual, calm question. As if the fate of Terrasen did not rest upon it.

Hasar opened her mouth, but Sartaq cut her off. "North. We shall indeed go north with you. If only to repay you for saving our army-our people."

Aelin tried not to look too relieved.

"Gratitude aside," Hasar said, not sounding very grateful at all, "Kashin's scouts have confirmed that Terrasen is where Morath is concentrating its efforts. So it is there that we shall go."

Aelin wished she had not eaten such a large lunch. "How bad is it?"

Nesryn shook her head, answering for Prince Kashin, "The details were murky. All we know is that hordes were spotted marching northward, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake."

Aelin kept her fists at her sides, avoiding the urge to rub at her face.

Chaol's father said, "I hope that power of yours can be summoned again."

Aelin let an ember of that power smolder in her eyes. "Thank you for the armor," she crooned.

"Consider it an early coronation gift," the Lord of Anielle countered with a mocking smile.

Sartaq cleared his throat. "If you and your companions are recovered, then we'll press northward as soon as we are able." No objections from Hasar at that.

"And march along the mountains?" Rowan asked, scanning the map. Aelin traced the route they'd follow. "We'd have to pass directly before the Ferian Gap. We'll barely clear the other end of this lake before we're in another battle."

"So we draw them out," Hasar said. "Trick them into emptying whatever forces wait in the Gap, then sneak up on them from behind."

"Adarlan controls the entire Avery," Chaol said, drawing an invisible line inland from Rifthold. "To pass north, we have to cross that river anyway. In picking the Gap as our battleground, we'll avoid the mess that would come with fighting in the midst of Oakwald. The ruks, at least, would be able to provide aerial coverage. Not so with the trees."

Rowan nodded. "We'd need to march the majority of the host up into the mountains, then—to come at the Gap from where they'd least expect it. It's rough terrain, though. We'll need to pick our route carefully."

Chaol's father grumbled. Aelin lifted her brows, but his son answered, "I sent out emissaries the day after the battle-into the Fangs. To contact the wild men who live there, if they might know of secret ways through the mountains to the Gap."

Ancient enemies of this city. "And?"

"They do. But at a cost."

"One that shall not be paid," the Lord of Anielle snapped.

"Let me guess: territory," Aelin said.

Chaol nodded. Hence the tension in this room.

She tapped a toot as she surveyed the Lord of Anielle. "And you won't give one sliver of land to them?"

He just glared.

"Apparently not," Fenrys muttered

Aelin shrugged, and turned to Chaol. "Well, it's settled, then."

"What is settled?" his father ground out.

Aelin ignored him, and winked at her friend. "You're the Hand to the King of Adarlan. You outrank him. You're authorized to act on Dorian's behalf." She gestured to the map. "The land might be a part of Anielle, but it belongs to Adarlan. Go ahead and barter it."

His father started. "You—"

"We are going north," Aelin said. "You will not stand in our way." She again let some of her fire kindle in her eyes, set the gold in them burning. "I halted that wave. Consider this alliance with the wild men a way to repay the favor."

"That wave destroyed half my city," the man snarled.

Fenrys let out a low, disbelieving laugh. Rowan snarled softly.

Chaol growled at his father, "You're bastard."

"Watch your tongue, boy."

Aelin nodded sympathetically to Chaol. "I see why you left."

Chaol, to his credit, winced and returned to the map. "If we can get past the Ferian Gap, then we continue northward."

Past Endovier. That path would take them right past Endovier. Aelin's stomach tightened. Rowan's hand grazed her own.

"We have to decide soon," Sartaq declared.

"Right now, we sit between the Ferian Gap and Morath. It would be very easy for Erawan to send hosts to crush us between them."

Hasar turned to Chaol. "Is Yrene anywhere near done?"

He leaned an elbow against the arm of his wheeled chair. "Even with the few survivors, there are too many of them. We'd be here weeks."

"How many injured?" Rowan asked.

Chaol shook his head. "Not injured." His jaw tightened. "Valg."

Aelin frowned. "Yrene's healing the Valg?"

Hasar grinned. "In a manner of speaking."

Aelin waved her off. "Can I see?"

They found Yrene not in the keep, but in a tent on the remnants of the battlefield, leaning over a human man thrashing upon a cot. The man had been restrained to anchors in the floor at his wrists and ankles.

Aelin took one look at those chains and had to swallow.

Rowan laid a hand on her lower back, and Fenrys stepped closer to her side.

Yrene paused, her hands wreathed in white light. Borte, sword out, lingered nearby.

"Is something wrong?" Yrene asked, the glow in her hands fading. The man sagged, going boneless as the healer's assault on the demon inside him halted.

Chaol steered his chair closer to her, the wheels equipped for rougher terrain. "Aelin and her companions want a demonstration. If you're up for it."

Yrene smoothed back the hair that had escaped her braid. "It's not really anything that you can see. What happens is beneath the skin—mind to mind."

"You go up against Valg demons directly," Fenrys said with no small amount of awe.

"They're hateful, cowardly wretches." Yrene crossed her arms and scowled at the man tied to the cot. "Utterly pathetic," she spat toward him—the demon inside him.

The man hissed. Yrene only smiled. The man—the demon-whimpered.

Aelin blinked, unsure whether to laugh or fall to her knees. "Show me. Do whatever it is you do, but show me."

Borte said, "It's not very exciting with them tied down, is it?"

Sartaq threw her an exasperated glare. As if this were a conversation they'd already had many times. "You can be on mucking duty, if you'd prefer."

Borte rolled her eyes, but turned to Aelin, looking her over with a frankness that Aelin could only appreciate. "Any other missions for me?"

Aelin grinned. "Not yet. Soon, perhaps." Borte grinned right back. "Please. Please spare me from the tedium of this."

"And you believe them?" Fenrys asked.

Hasar patted the hilt of her fine sword. "Our interrogators are skilled at retrieving the truth."

Aelin ignored the roiling in her stomach.

"So you free them," Gavriel said, silent for minutes now, "and then torture them?"

"This is war," Hasar said simply. "We leave them able to function. But we will not risk sparing their lives only to find a new army at our backs."

"Some willingly joined Erawan," Chaol said quietly. "Some willingly took the ring. Yrene can tell, when she's in there, who wanted it or not. She doesn't bother to save those who gladly knelt. So most of those she does save were either fools or taken forcibly."

"Some want to fight for us," Sartaq said.

"Those who pass our vetting process are allowed to begin training with the foot soldiers. Not many of them, but a few." Fine. Fine, and fine.

Yrene gasped, her light flaring bright enough that Aelin squinted.

Yrene slumped back, Chaol shooting out an arm to brace her. The healer only took a perch on the arm of his chair, a hand on her heaving chest.

Aelin gave her a moment to catch her breath. To manage such a feat was remarkable. To do it while pregnant ... Aelin shook her head in wonder.

Yrene said to no one in particular, "That demon didn't want to go."

"But it's gone now?" Aelin asked

Yene pointed to the man on the cot, now opening his eyes. Brown, not black, gazed upward.

"Thank you," was all the man said, his voice raw.

And human. Utterly human.

[knittinglizards]

watched lifeforce (1985) tonight

ltbxd: Hooptober 15/31- 1 Tobe Hooper film

I didn't have much of any specific expectations for this but I REALLY liked it! The ~zombie effects are very cool & it did more than I was expecting with the element of vampirism (was mostly just expecting the sexual stuff so that's.. not saying terribly much) & I was surprised/delighted by some plot beats in the middle right out of the original Dracula novel. A really fun time!

addition: i was bitching a little abt the story earlier but overall did like it and got gradually more irritated seeing reviews talk about 'the naked vampire girl is the best part' or 'the script takes the details of the 'science' so seriously 🙄' and it PISSED ME OFF!!! like 1. the movie is definitely sexist but there's more interesting things going on than that and 2. if a self-serious story w fantastical elements is too much for you maybe... don't watch science fiction movies lol

additional addition:

ship is shaped like a comet :)