#she is far from gentle

[angeliccynthious]

I drew this prior to solidifying my personal design for her, but it does have to do with the hc of her being the spawn of WL... that being her having- blue eyes. And an enchanted necklace that STEALS THE EYE COLOR!! GASP to better hide that fact. Hehe. I love Dryya <3

[justabunchofdragons]

they were so insane for having house play "hugh laurie's cuddy's serenade" bookending "you can't always get what you want" as cuddy held her party with everyone else and their mother attending AND having her open the door only to drop her smile when it wasn't house. she really said "i DON'T want you there" and got upset when he didn't come. they drive me insane

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 61

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

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

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

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

To keep his arm around Elide.

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

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

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

She had come for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

To the keep gate, still open.

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

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

She had come for him. She had found him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No."

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

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

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

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

Together. They would either outrun this or die together.

"Elide-"

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

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

And gods help her, that horse did.

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

Faster than the wind. Faster than death.

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

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

Less than a mile stood between them and the keep.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Aelin was not at his side.

She was not on the battlement at all.

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

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

Aelin. Aelin was—

Arcas neared the earth, talons splaying.

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

Right in the path of that wave.

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

They all saw her.

The queen on the plain.

The endless wall of water surging for her.

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

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

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

The shaking in the keep was not from the wave.

It was not from that wall of water at all.

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

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

Into the burning heart of the world.

The keep shook, more violently this time.

The pillar of fire sucked back into Aelin.

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

As if it would halt the wave in its tracks.

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

"Three months," Rowan breathed.

The others stilled.

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

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

To gather up the full might of her magic.

Not for the Lock, not for Erawan.

But for Maeve's death blow.

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

…

Holy gods. Holy rutting gods.

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

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

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

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

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

As Aelin opened her hand toward it.

Fire erupted.

Cobalt fire. The raging soul of a flame.

A tidal wave of it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A minute passed. Then another.

The wave began to lower. Still the fire burned.

Rowan's head pounded, his mouth going dry.

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

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

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

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

For it, too, to be calmed.

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

Then silence. Utter silence.

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

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

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

Not a pillar of fire.

But Aelin.

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

The Fire-Bringer someone whispered down the battlements.

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

The silence turned reverent.

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

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

"Mala's Heir," Yrene breathed.

Down on the plain, Elide and Lorcan had halted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She had come here for this reason.

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

Nothing more.

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

Slowly, starting from her fingertips, the glow faded.

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

Back into Aelin.

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

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

Already, a white-tailed hawk launched skyward.

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

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

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

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

And then sweet darkness.

[blaithnne]

my timephoon hot take is that the episode was literally fine, it's the episodes that came AFTER it that fucked things up

[luck-of-the-drawings]

THE ORDER OF PALMS An order of holy folk that serve The Helm, working to create powerful Aasimar Paladins for the purpose of protecting any who hire their help. [BACKSTORY UNDER CUT]

One day, Gjör and her peers were lead by their mentor Opheria, to a mission far from their home. On the peak of that mountain village, they saw upon the horizon, the castle of their home go up in flames. Horrified and scared, the apprentices sought to follow their mentors guidance, and followed her lead into a small barn. It was there, that Opheria proceeded to slaughter each and everyone of the apprentices. It seemed she somehow had a hand in this sudden attack on the Order of Palms. Gjör D'annevual survived a sword through the 'heart', on account of a rare condition, that places her heart on the other side of her chest. When she finally managed to bring herself back home, the Order was insulted by her survival. She had so many better peers, why couldn't any of them have survived? This runt was seriously the only thing that survived Opherias wrath? It was better to just wash their hands clean of this. Thus the Order decided to banish Gjör from their ranks. She now travels the land in search of a purpose.

[uwudonoodle]

I started watching Kimi ni Todoke again, so I can catch up before starting the new season. I'm only like 17 minutes into the first episode and I'm already crying over how wholesome and sweet they are to each other.

Best romance ever! I don't ever want to hear that romance needs contrived drama and toxicity to be interesting. All I need is two people getting to know each other, and being nice to each other the whole time.

[necrotic-nephilim]

Do you have any fucked up babscass headcanons? This is vaguely for the ask game but I’m curious. I’ve also had a vision of dick being drawn into their dubiously consensual mommy kink thing, probably unwillingly. I just love the idea of babs being her teacher for everything normal, like yes on some level it is grooming but cass knows everyone’s intentions automatically, could babs really make her do anything she didn’t want to do?

for the ask game!

GOD YES. i love BabsCass. just. so dearly. they're so fucked up. and adding Dick to the mix is *also* so so fun. the concepts of how consent plays into it all when Cass knows everyone's intentions and feelings (sometimes before they themselves do) but Babs still holding clear power over Cass and how vulnerable Cass is emotionally it's just. good soup i tell you.

so, i think it's fun, if in a way, Babs has always been slightly jealous of Bruce. after becoming Oracle by means out of her control, she works with other heroes sure, but she doesn't have a protege. she watched with Dick and Bruce, how close of a bond Batman and Robin is. how Bruce got to shape and mold Dick into the hero he's become and the reverence Dick has for Bruce. there's such a nuance to that relationship, and Babs wants it for herself. the first person to carry on the Batgirl torch is Helena, something she violently disapproves of. so for her to give Batgirl to Cass, that's significant. it's both a sign of acceptance, and a sign of ownership. it's basically her way of saying to Bruce "this one's mine." and thus, their relationship reflects it. because it's easy to seak out a close bond with Cass, who's never had anyone show her love and affection with no strings. Babs' love is unconditional. and Cass wants to bury herself in it. she knows it's romantic and possibly sexual, but Babs doesn't sexualize Cass the way men do. there's no leering comments or objectification. Babs is kind and respectful, so Cass doesn't mind. she even leans into it. there's something nice in being appreciate for something other than how good of a weapon she makes. and Babs' touch is just. something Cass craves. Babs wants to respect boundaries, but Cass is practically crawling into her lap after certain rough missions, just for the companionship.

i think it's fun if the mommy kink starts with Cass. sure, Babs has been carefully guiding Cass toward being comfortable with sexual things. Cass is regularly naked around Babs with no problem, she lets Babs touch her anywhere. but it's when Babs is holding Cass that Cass talks about how she doesn't know who her mother is and she wishes she knew what having a mother felt like. and sure, Cass knows that Babs isn't entirely motherly. not when her hand is resting inside of Cass' pants at that very moment. but this is the closest thing she has. i enjoy the idea of Cass knowing that this isn't normal. sure, she doesn't fully understand relationships, but she knows mother/daughter and dating are different. but it's a two birds one stone kind of thing. she's so convinced she's not going to find enough people to love her to fill all the "roles" in her life, why not combine the two. after all, Dick and Bruce are doing it. so when Cass brings it up, Babs lets Cass call her mommy. it's a soothing thing, more than a kink thing. and it delightfully plays into Babs' hand for how she wants to groom Cass, giving her more control and trust over Cass. it's easy to get Cass to side with her instead of Bruce when she just has to stroke Cass' hair and praise her whenever she does what Babs want. Cass is so used to negative reinforcement that she'll take any kind of positive reinforcement, even if she knows it's slightly manipulative. sometimes, what matters to her the most is just that someone wants to protect and take care of her in the first place.

i love the idea of Dick getting dragged in unwillingly so much. Cass has very high standards for what a mentor/partner/mother figure should look like because of how reverently Babs treats her. and Cass is known for being critical of Bruce's methods. so when Bruce is particularly cruel to Dick, or that have a nasty argument that Cass witnesses and Bruce possibly even hits Dick, that's when Dick gets dragged in. it starts with Babs inviting him to just eat dinner and chill out with Babs and Cass in the Clocktower. then he's being invited to stay the night more and more often so he doesn't have to crash at Wayne Manor when he's in Gotham. the first time he wakes up with Cass sleeping next to him, he doesn't comment on it. he knows what it's like to be so tired you just crash on the nearest bed. it's when he notices that he's being more and more separated from Bruce, that Dick starts to notice something is off. he's never commented on what's going on between Babs and Cass bc well, he's one to talk. but now he's caught between them. Cass and Babs don't even have to talk, they just wordlessly know they're on the same page about bringing Dick into the fold. for Cass, it's genuinely to protect him. she's happy with Babs, and she wants Dick to feel happy in that way too, with someone who's not as emotionally closed off as Bruce. and Cass just wants as many close relationships as she can get. and for Babs, there is genuine attraction there. she and Dick almost flirted with dating before, and nows her chance to have him and finally beat Bruce. and as unwilling as Dick is, it's hard to say no when they're being so gentle with him. he keeps telling himself he's going to set hard boundaries and tell them no, eventually. but Babs has the manipulation down pat, and Cass is so gentle and loving, Dick just gets swept in too deep. they both know he's unwillingly, but to Cass, that's just how love works. you have to be talked into it sometimes because you don't realize you deserve it.

Babs teaching Cass about sex my *beloved*. first, it's just Cass and Babs. Babs showing Cass how she can feel good, how she can make Babs feel good. but now with Dick, they have a whole new person for Babs to see to teach Cass about sex. Dick has to be talked into it by Babs, who paints it as a learning opportunity for Cass. I just. I love throuple dynamics where one person is basically being used as a toy for the dom to tell the third person to use, and that fits them so well. Dick is just a toy, a prop basically. and Babs is guiding Cass through it, teaching her how to make Dick feel good, how to ride him. I like the idea of Babs edging both of them until she feels like Cass has "learned" enough. which is clearly just part of the kink, corrupting Cass. and they all know it, but it's an unspoken thing. even more fun if Babs gives Cass some token form of control, letting Cass control when Dick can come. and to Cass, edging is a natural part of sex, so she also tortures Dick like that, bringing him to the edge and holding him there no matter how much he begs. sometimes, Dick just watches Cass and Babs have sex and learns what they like through that. he learns Babs is a sadist, but she has to be careful with it. Cass views pain strictly as a very negative punishment and the last thing Babs wants to do is lose the trust she has built up with Cass. so she avoids pain for the longest time. it's Dick who notices Babs itching to hurt someone, so to make sure it's not Cass, Dick offers himself. and Cass watches as Babs hurts Dick, and Dick *likes* it. maybe impact play, maybe some CBT, that sort of stuff, just testing the waters of how far Babs can take it with Dick. it makes Cass curious enough to try it, both sadism and masochism. she finds it takes a lot for her to enjoy masochism, but in the right applications, it's nice. there's something about letting herself feel pain, which she was never allowed before. pain is something to be compartmentalized and worked through. so there's something nice about turning her brain off and just feeling. especially if she's being hurt while she's in Babs or Dick's arms, bc she knows she's safe. both of them have become her safe space to explore new things during sex.

eventually, Dick comes to mostly accept being part of the relationship. he realizes he's in too deep when Cass casually calls him her boyfriend in front of Bruce just to make Bruce stutter. they're all adults, so it's not something Bruce can fight too hard. and Dick does have to admit, Cass has a point. there's far less arguing and fighting in this relationship. the grooming practically works better on Dick than it did Cass, bc now he's just accepted it and is going along with everything. he starts initiating sex, with either of them separately or together, just bc he likes giving up control to them. he likes the way Cass is gentle when she's domming, taking control from him without even asking and just taking care of him. and when Babs is in control, she's a little meaner, a bit rougher, but sometimes, he needs that too. sometimes he just likes to watch the two of them, see Cass call Babs mommy while she's crying and begging for anything. it's carnal and just fascinating to watch, even if he doesn't get off to it. seeing how much they love each other and how much they love him makes his head spin, because being with Bruce was nothing like this. Bruce rarely talks about his feelings, rarely said he loved Dick. meanwhile Cass and Babs will say it about a dozen times a day. maybe it's manipulative, but they make it sound so genuine, he can't bring himself to care. and Cass is pleased Dick is finally giving him, letting himself be loved. Babs is pleased to have control of both Dick and Cass. all of them are getting something out of it so really, what's there to complain about?

[parlerenfleurs]

Blue eye samurai has cured me from the chronic worry that I don't find wlw ships appealing because I'm not queer enough have internalised misogyny, because give me a Mizu and an Akemi and suddenly I have no problem whatsoever drooling about their dynamic and fantasising about their sexy times.

It was always the lack of well-written female characters.

[nieranddear]

Rereading the dialog that is said during suppressions. Abel specifically says 'Loved Ones' as he speaks about those in the upper layer's demise and their struggle and urging to stop as continuing on is futile. Abram says 'colleagues'. 'Coworkers'. He does refer to them as 'Friends' once as well. But every other dialog is about Carmen or generalizing and saying 'everyone' rather than specifics. It just feels odd a bit to where he uses less strong terms when referring to relations with people and then afterwards only refers to Carmen by name rather than those still existing beside him. Even when it was stated by a facet of A and others (I can only remember Hokma off the top of my head. It may be only him which would make sense) refer to A having seen them as specifically 'Loved Ones'. Which is a far stronger showing and expression of emotion to those around you.

It makes me think of how he, Abram, expressed his desires, the desire to die [see: 'sink'/'sleep' for he explicitly refers to death consistently as slumber and when bringing the dead back 'waking them up'] and stop, in that moment. He constantly brings up, in general terms, self punishment and Carmen. Guilt that is carried with Carmen. Memories of her death, her passing. Of how she left without a smile. Of how she can no longer bask in the warmth of the sun she loved to do so frequently. Yet only of Carmen in name. Never anyone else or specifics of people, generalizations when referring to others and referring to them all inside a group, as a collective. Them and then Carmen. Focused on only that. On the fact he cannot move forward. Urging to just shut the eyes and to simply Sink. To Sleep. To die. It reminds me of when one goes ahead and becomes so interlaced with suffering and grief and despair that one simply stews inside of it, spiraling down further into that single train of thought. Holding onto the image of a dead and deceased one. It feels as if, in a more crude way of saying it as I cannot formulate a different way currrently at the moment, searching of 'justification' and a fitting reason to commit suicide. [I say Justification as what I really mean to say a 'fitting reason', that reason and end seeming to Be the Only way to continue, or lack of continue, at that point to him.] Rather than saying the names or specifics of those around him, of his loved ones still inside those metal boxes, he becomes enveloped in grief and only on Carmen. Abram's mistake which he fixates the most upon. Holds deep guilt for. Blames himself for. Saying he drove her to her death. That he is leaving her behind [I didnt save the exact quote but it was generally that]. When those inside the facility are people he also so clearly values and wished to bring back as well he, at this moment, primarily focuses on Carmen. Even when he does address the others it's in a more brief manner, having two pieces of dialog on the Sephirot specifically and it only relating to his Faults relating to them than the people themself when he speaks of Carmen in a more in depth manner. Perhaps it's still the wish clinging of to not hold trust in anyone. But it feels reminiscent to when a person tries to push themself and gain 'courage' to commit suicide. Of focusing only on the guilt and regret and the mourning of one already gone, who was so near and dear whom he did all of this for in the first place his desire only stemming from her and not the project itself, especially one who also killed herself, to go ahead and die as well. Perhaps it's not even an active thing he does in his mind. It's just become so overbearing that he has now gotten stuck in that never ending loop. Using far more stronger language of the woman dead and gone who he wishes to rejoin than of those currently alive and near to him, making them feel far more distant than they actually are mentally – at least in relations and connections wise. Depression does tend to tear down what one feels towards their loved ones and how they process and view relationships causing for people to exhibit such a thing by feeling distant in a room or alone with a loved one nearby as commonly known – and physically. I'm not saying that's 'totally what it is' or the sort. More of that reading it over again just reminded me of such a thing. Nothing revolutionary but more ramblings to process it all after it ended

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"What...?"

August's brain scrambled for some kind of explanation, some sort of rational answer to the questions that were filling up his brain: What did she mean, she died before her parents did? That she died before she and Randall could start their new lives together? What could it mean? His mind groped frantically for an answer, and only one came to him.

It was one he wanted to reject as soon as it presented itself.

Randall and Emily...they'd died young? And if Emily hadn't seen her parents since the day she died, and both of them died before they could wed, then that could only mean one of two options: That they died in some tragic accident, or...

No. No, he thought to himself frantically. It couldn't be that someone...her betrothed...could he have...?

"Auggie, are you okay?" he could hear Josephine asking him, her voice thin with panic, but it sounded so distant as he slumped back in his seat, the horrific reality hitting him hard, as though he had the weight of the world dropped on his back, crushing him. The room seemed to spin, and before he knew it, he was off and running out of the ballroom-he was in dire need of air.

"Father!" June cried out worriedly, rushing after him, as did Wilhelm, with Randall and Josephine quick to follow. Lon and Erika wanted to follow as well, but Colin and Callahan stopped the pair from running off, with Callahan consoling gently, "It's okay, wee ones, it's okay."

"Will Grandpa August be okay?" Erika asked (not even realizing the way she addressed him, without hesitation), eyes big and watery with worry, at which her uncle brushed away her impending tears, saying, "I'm sure he will. It's just...he's probably gonna have a lot of questions, a lot to think about...

...Lord knows, Col and I did..."

[rise-my-angel]

This past clown car of an episode portraying it's two leading women as uwu soft girls who don't want war and it's all the mens fault for the violence and bloodshed, just makes me think about my series.

And how if in the middle of the War of Five Kings, Cersei suddenly snuck into Robbs army encampment to secretly discuss peace with the reader, you can best bet the reader would drag Cersei out into the open by her hair yelling that she's caught a stray she-lion prowling about. The reader would be number one supporter of "we can use her to threaten Joffery and Tywin into surrendering and if they dont guess that's one Lannister down to worry about."

And make no mistake, if the reader were the one sneaking into Kings Landing, Cersei would drag her through the fucking streets like an animal.

Like my reader does encapsulate a lot of following traditional gender roles in this world in terms of willing engagement in motherhood and not questioning or doubting the patriarchal nature of her feudal system, but she is not fucking above getting her hands dirty and getting violent and wanting vengeance separate from what the men around her may want.

WOMAN CAN BE BOTH, CONDAL.

WE ARE ONIONS, WE HAVE LAYERS.

[gierosajie]

Ngl, I hadn't expected just how similar Venti and Nahida turned out to be. Like sure I was kinda speculating about the tree cutting thing, but their other similarities was a surprise

[acourtofquestions]

Rowaelin Chapter 41 Kingdom of Ash:

She'd rebuild it—what she had been.

Perhaps one last time, perhaps only for a little while, but she'd do it. If only for Terrasen.

Rowan swooped from the mast, shifting as he reached her side at the rail. He surveyed the night-black sea beyond them. "You should rest." She slid him a glance. "I'm not tired." Not a lie, not in some regards. "Want to spar?" He frowned. "Training can start tomorrow."

"Or tonight." She held his piercing stare, matched his dominance with her own.

"It can wait a few hours, Aelin."

"Every day counts." Against Erawan, even a day of training would count.

Rowan's jaw tightened. "True," he said at last. "But it can still wait. There are ... there are things we need to discuss." The silent words rose in his animal-bright eyes. About you and me.

Her mouth went dry. But Aelin nodded In silence, they strode into their spacious quarters, its only decoration the wall of windows that overlooked the churning sea behind them. A far cry from a queen's chamber, or any she might have purchased as Adarlan's assassin.

At least the bed built into the wall looked clean enough, the sheets crisp and stainless. But Aelin headed for the oak desk anchored to the floor, and leaned against it while Rowan shut the door.

In the dim lantern light, they stared at each other.

She'd endured Maeve and Cairn; she'd endured Endovier and countless other horrors and losses. She could have this conversation with him. The first step toward rebuilding herself.

Aelin knew Rowan could hear her thundering heart as the space between them went taut. She swallowed once. "Elide and Lorcan told you... told you everything that was said on that beach."

A curt nod, wariness flooding his eyes. "Everything that Maeve said." Another nod.

She braced herself. "That I'm-we're mates."

Understanding and something like relief replaced that wariness. "Yes."

"I'm your mate," she said, needing to voice it. "And you are mine."

Rowan crossed the room, but halted a few feet from the desk on which she leaned. "What of it, Aelin?" His question was low, rough.

"Don't you..." She scrubbed at her face. "You know what she did to you, to ..." She couldn't say her name. Lyria. "Because of it."

"I do know."

"And?"

"And what do you wish me to say?"

She pushed off the desk. "I wish you to tell me how you feel about it. If…"

"If what?"

"If you wish it wasn't so."

His brows narrowed. "Why would I ever wish that?"

She shook her head, unable to answer, and stared over her shoulder toward the sea.

It seemed like he would close the distance between them, but he remained where he was.

"Aelin." His voice turned hoarse. "Aelin."

She looked at him then, at the pain in his words.

"Do you know what I wish?" He exposed his palms, one tattooed, the other unmarked. "I wish that you had told me. When you realized it. I wish you had told me then."

She swallowed against the ache in her throat. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Why would it ever hurt me to know the truth that was already in my heart? The truth I hoped for?"

"I didn't understand it. I didn't understand how it was possible. I thought maybe ... maybe you might be able to have two mates within a lifetime, but even then, I just ….." She blew out a breath. "I didn't want you to be distressed." His eyes softened. "Do I regret that Lyria was dragged into this, that the cost of Maeve's game was her life, and the life of the child we might have had? Yes. I regret that, and I wish it had never happened." He would bear the tattoo to remember it for the rest of his days. "But none of that was your fault. I will always carry some of the burden of it, always know I chose to leave her for war and glory, and that I played right into Maeve's hands."

"Maeve wanted to ensnare you to get to me, though."

"Then it is her choice, not yours."

Aelin ran a hand over the worn wood of the desk. "In those illusions she spun for me, she showed me variations on one more than all the others." The words were strained, but she forced them out. Forced herself to look at him. "She spun me one dreamscape that felt so real I could smell the wind off the Staghorns."

"What did she show you?" A breathless question.

Aelin had to swallow before she could answer. "She showed me what might have been—if there had been no Erawan, if Elena had dealt with him properly and banished him. If there had been no Lyria, none of that pain or despair you endured. She showed me Terrasen as it would have been today, with my father as king, and my childhood happy, and..." Her lips wobbled. "When I turned twenty, you came with a delegation of Fae to Terrasen, to make amends for the rift between my mother and Maeve. And you and I took one look at each other in my father's throne room, and we knew."

She didn't fight the stinging in her eyes. "I wanted to believe that was the true world. That this was the nightmare from which I'd awaken. I wanted to believe that there was a place where you and I had never known this suffering and loss, where we'd take one look at each other and know we were mates. Maeve told me she could make it so. If I gave her the keys, she'd make it all possible." She wiped at her cheek, at the tear that escaped down it. "She spun me realities where you were dead, where you'd been killed by Erawan and only in handing over the keys to her would I be able to avenge you. But those realities made me ... I stopped being useful to her when she told me you were gone. She couldn't get me to talk, to think. Yet in the ones where you and I met, where things were as they should have been ... that was when I came the closest."

His swallow was audible. "What stopped you?"

She wiped at her face again. "The male I fell in love with was you. It was you, who knew pain as I did, and who walked with me through it, back to the light. Maeve didn't understand that. That even if she could create that perfect world, it wouldn't be you with me. And I'd never trade that, trade this. Not for anything." He extended his hand. An offer and invitation.

Aelin laid hers atop his, and his callused fingers squeezed gently. "I wanted it to be you," he breathed, closing his eyes. "For months and months, even in Wendlyn, I wondered why you weren't my mate instead. It tore me up, wondering it, but I still did." He opened his eyes, and they burned like green fire. "All this time, I wanted it to be you."

She lowered her gaze, but he hooked a thumb and forefinger around her chin and lifted her face.

"I know you are tired, Fireheart. I know that the burden on your shoulders is more than anyone should endure." He took their joined hands and laid them on his heart. "But we'll face this together. Erawan, the Lock, all of it.

"We'll face it together. And when we are done, when you Settle, we will have a thousand years together. Longer."

A small sound came out of her. "Elena said the Lock requires—"

"We'll face it together," he swore again.

"And if the cost of it truly is you, then we'll pay it together. As one soul in two bodies.

Her heart strained to the point of cleaving. "Terrasen needs a king."

"I have no intention of ruling Terrasen without you. Aedion can have the job."

She scanned his face. He meant every word He brushed the hair from her face, his other hand still clasping hers to his chest, where his heart pounded a steady, unfaltering rhythm.

"Even if I had my choice of any dream-realities, any perfect illusions, I would still choose you, too."

She felt the truth of his words echo into the unbreakable thing that bound their very souls, and tilted her face up toward his. But he made no move beyond it.

She frowned. "Why aren't you kissing me?"

"I thought you might want to be asked first."

"That never stopped you before."

"This first time, I wanted to make sure you were ... ready." After Cairn and Maeve. After months of having no choices whatsoever.

She smiled despite that truth. "I'm ready to be kissed again, Prince."

He let out a dark chuckle and muttered, "Thank the gods," before he lowered his mouth to hers.

"You're my mate." Her words were a breathless rush. "And I am yours."

The world might have been burning around them for all she cared, all he cared, too.

"Together, Aelin," he promised, and she heard the rest of the words in every place their bodies joined. Together they would face this, together they would find a way.

Together we'll find a way, their mingling breaths, the crashing sea, seemed to echo.

Together.

[queen-mabs-revenge]

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[woundedheartwithin]

Kijin Clan lackey like “oh y’ ain’t shit, we’re gonna kill ya!” Like my brother, have you seen Shishido? They brought his ass in on a truck, you are in danger

[aria0fgold]

Finally finished watching Kamoshida's arc and seeing him confess is sooooo satisfying! Behind bars for you bitch! And I'm getting attached to the characters, like I'm fully prepared to give my life to Ryuji.