#smiling through the fear
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creativity-deficient · 2 months ago
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Snow White or something
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vmpbyss · 2 years ago
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oh wow. this is horrifying 😁
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bacchuschucklefuck · 5 months ago
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doing chibi is a good design exercise bc it forces u to think on shapes n essential details, essentially thumbnailing ur designs. its also a terrible design exercise bc it ends up looking cute no matter what
#dimension 20#fantasy high#riz gukgak#very specifically class swap bard!riz#fh class quangle#mm. I may need tags for all the asides Ive been doing lmao#riz's canon design is so coherent and thematically clean that I genuinely struggle to keep up...#bard!riz's whole thing is working out his identity through abject fear so it kiiiinda makes sense that hes got a different thing going#on every year I guess? like lmao the directive I go into each of these designs with changes vastly#freshman bard!riz has to look extremely nonthreatening. and also make you wanna pick him up and chuck him at a wall#annoyingly inoffensive. slides off your memory pretty much immediately. a void of an experience#crucially Does Not Show Teeth While Smiling#sophomore year bard!riz I have been keeping the like. cameraman direction for#I want him to be swimming in clothes a little bit... he kinda lands at like. 80s/90s shlocky horror protag too which I do like#bc what is season 2 to riz if not a horror story lmao#junior year bard!riz I want to be somewhere between clark kent and tintin#the journalist aesthetics is not so clear and easy to build as the detective or spy aesthetics...#but also I just. really like boy journalist lmao this is the BD blood speaking again#and! I actually do draw his hair differently than in my canon junior year riz stuff. its a bit shorter here so it doesn't#obscure as much of his face#its so funny actually going from drawing canon stuff to class swap esp. with riz bc he's smiling SO much here#and it's 100% trained like its crucial for u guys to know he is equally if not more fucked up as a bard#barely anybody can wrangle him in canon it's already been mostly him keeping himself on track. imagine if he actually learned how to act#mmm. I think these designs are still gonna soft change as I draw them. thats fine we have fun#drawing sophomore year bard!riz for those comiclets was fun as hell. I think on this factor alone I call it a success lol
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gods-perfect-idiots · 22 days ago
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something something blood-soaked hands cradling your face something something
anyway here's the post btw
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#what if post dp3 logan struggles to emotionally accept that wade Will Actually For Real Survive Anything#and one time they are fighting some random baddies#and they somehow get in a few shots straight to wade's cranium and he drops like a bag of slutty slutty potatoes#and logan goes full berserker trying to get to him#like he just massacres everyone in his way and wade still isnt getting up ohnoohnoohnonotagainohno#(healing factor or no a few direct shots to the brain stem/t box take a bit to recover from)#(no more than five minutes but it's an eternity to logan)#and his heart sinks to the very core of the earth as he kneels down next to wade's body#and his hands are shaking and soaked in blood and he can't seem to sheathe his claws in his dazed adrenalined state#he tries to peel back wade's mask and fear is just *pounding* through his system because in that moment#all he can see are the xmen dead in massive pools of blood#and that feeling of unreality is rushing over him like thiscantbehappeningthiscantbehappeningnotagainohgodnotagain#wade's still and unresponsive and there is so Much BLOOD (hard to tell how much is Wade's and how much is just on his hands)#and logan doesn't even realize he's crying until suddenly wade's eyes light up like a computer restarting#and he's smiling and gasping and joking immediately#“well howdy there hot stuff what did I miss?”#and then he clocks that logan is Not Okay#“... well gee willikers golly goddamn peanut 'twas only a flesh wound! no need to go all waterworks over lil ol me”#“you know it would take a helluva lot more than that to make me shuffle off this here mortal coil!”#“see all better I'm hunky dory peachy keen right as fucking rain”#“I mean cmon I can't have been out for more than five minutes so let's just go back to you being exasperated with my bullshit antics okay??#“...okay sugarboobs? snookums? babycakes?.... Logan?”#and they just sit there on the floor holding each other for a while#wade babbling and logan crying about everything he's lost and wondering distantly how he has come to care so much#about this blithering jokester in like barely a week#that the thought of losing him brought him crashing back to the worst memory of his extremely rough life#anyway that's enough tag mini fic lolol I'm having feelings about my own drawing I guess 😵#poolverine#deadpool and wolverine#poolverine art
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rosie-tyler · 6 months ago
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A darker dream
That has no ending
That's so unreal
You believe that it's true!
A dance of death
Out of a mystery tale
The frightened princess
Doesn't know what to do!
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julijbee · 7 months ago
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2/3
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yashley · 2 years ago
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it’s okay just fearne freakin the fuck out in my head …..
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gayalanwake · 3 months ago
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mhehehehmeh uhuhuhuhuh ☃️
Before I say anything I think it’s extremely important for yall to know that when I saw this I was in the cafeteria sitting by myself eating a meatball sandwich so for a good 10 seconds I was just frozen like this
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Now ,
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ccbatman · 5 months ago
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actually so evil how much of hal's internal world gets obliterated with the rewriting of his relationships with jessica and martin.
#hal jordan#empyrean posting#ok going in the tags because im not actually v confident in my understanding of his character. i read all of his 80s/90s stuff but forgot#90% of it but ANYWAY.#so much of him just does not make sense with how geoff johns characterises him and his relationships with his parents particularly the#parallax stuff simply because of how much his relationship with the guardians and their apathy/'betrayal' is influenced by hal's original#relationship with his dad. like at its heart it's pretty much the same dynamic in how hal blindly trusts and sort of idolises the guardians#despite their repeated infractions in hope of... something in return just as he had with his father and the abuse he suffered at martin's#hands. that's what makes his anger at the guardians make sense when it does show itself because the relationship parallel didn't stop there.#as with martin hal gets nothing for his devotion. he gets nothing for doing everything that's asked of him and more and it ends the same way#too: with a man in the sky burning like a newborn star. and you lose so much of that nuance and intrigue behind that if you just make#jessica the 'bad one' because!!! you cheapen it!!!!#the whole idea of hal is that he has his father's face but his mother's scars#(to me). in the sense that they both reacted to martin the same way with that cognisance of who he was as a man yet inability to pull away#because... love. both the love they had for him and the conviction that he did or could love them too. and jessica arguably did eventually#but also she didnt did she? because she held onto that notion of love till the very end. the few scraps she had she ballooned outwards until#they became the whole. but hal didnt have even that and he spent his whole life chasing it & running away from wanting it at the same time#like i think there's something so interesting to the fact that he had to be convinced that flying was what he wanted to do. how much of that#was touched by his father? the fear that he was already too much like him than he could bear to be? he already had his face now he had his#dreams and longing for the sky. how much more could he have before he began repeating the cycle?#and at the end he even had his father's death. burning in the clouds. like there's so much there and that's not even touching on how it#impacts his relationships with other heroes. not just in the sense of why did kyle clark and diana get to keep their close yet complex#relationships with their moms when hal had to lose his (although yeah why did they) but also just how he lets himself come across to them.#because it's on purpose right? that he lets them think his reflection of his father is born out of unadulterated love for a man worthy of it#? he has his father's job he wears his father's jacket he smiles his father's smile. what else are they supposed to think.#and isnt that interesting!!! that this man who is so committed to being good & just can lie so casually to people he thinks of as friends!!!#can you see how that might be his mother through and through!!! in how she might have glossed over the abuse to other people and herself!!!#can you see how in spite of it all he might want to be perceived as his father that paragon of masculinity and resent that he is not!!!#do you understand how everything he loves has been poisoned!!! im thinking of that scene where he tells bruce about watching martin die &#wouldnt it have been so much more interesting through this lens. how he is both revealing & obfuscating at once. i hate the change sm
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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 1 year ago
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Wait, but what is it about wally in the human au that makes him so weird?? Is it just an ableism thing or does he have like strange habits/interests
mmmm it's a bit of both kinda? more so the latter honestly! i mean by social norms & standards he's already a quirky guy, and i think he'd have a plethora of 'odd' mannerisms & habits on top of that. so yes, he's genuinely strange, but it's up to others to view/treat that as a negative or a positive or a neutral yk yk
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itspileofgoodthings · 7 months ago
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my life has changed since I learned how to play Bach’s Invention No. 13 from memory on the piano
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quillheel · 6 months ago
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─  romantic gestures.   bold what applies to your muse , italicize if there's potential / it depends.
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holding hands · buying flowers · cooking · cuddles · writing a poem / song · holding door open · tying shoe laces · sharing a milkshake with two straws · offering their jacket when it's cold · kissing in the rain · publicly confessing love · long walks at the beach · doing the titanic pose on a boat · taking cute pictures in a photo booth · sharing a taxi / uber · kissing the back of their hand · slow dancing · getting tickets of their favorite artist / sports team / other · introducing them to your parents · lighting candles · flower petals on bed · love letters · star gazing · brushing / doing their hair · picnics · teaching them to play an instrument / sport while gently guiding their hands · compliments · late night drives · taking selfies together · drawing them · self-made gifts · massages · proposing with a family heirloom ring · lending them your favorite book to read · paying for dinner / coffee · mixtapes / playlists · surprise birthday parties · feeding them · handing them keys to your apartment · making space in drawer for their clothes when they stay over · sharing a blanket · couple costumes · tucking a hair strand behind their ear · running after them at the airport / keeping them from leaving · moving cities to be together · blowing a kiss · breakfast in bed · defending them in a fight (verbally / physically) · joint bubble baths · dropping the L-bomb ("i love you") · dedicating a song at the karaoke bar to them · wearing their clothes · yawning before putting an arm around them while watching a movie · granting them the last bite (from meal)
tagged by: stolen from @infog <3 I legally HAD to tagging: @tenebriism @braveryhearted @autonomousxselves @fantomevoleur @musesofthesun @pluviacuratio @tendercoded / @manebloom / @lncanting @cozyfarms @deiscension @shadowedresolve @sakuaxe @lovlorne @leuvspell @adoranoia and you!!!! ( multi's, decide as you please! )
#toshiro kasukabe i love you so so so so so bad i WISH i had ships w u u mean the world to me#HE DRIVES ME INSANEEEEEEEEE im obsessed with him. toshiro struggles alot w expressing attraction in public bc of the conditions that he-#-was raised under where he had endless amounts of pressure put on him to conform to a standard and stay in the shadow of his father from a-#-very young age which means even postgame he struggles to get himself to do these things esp when they wouldnt be socially ok to do unless-#-you were dating the person u were doing it with but still caring abt his partner SOSOSOSOSSO much it's agonizing and how he'd fight with-#-himself to genuinely and directly express his feelings and not be controlled by fear postgame and how even pregame he'd still try to-#-figure something out to express it even in the minutest sense and how much his experiences form and embolden and disquiet him and GODDD#the way he'd consider a love letter to be albeit cheesy the most romantic thing he could do for a person bc it communicates his feelings-#-for them so directly and in a written form which he is so trained to think of in the danger it could bring bc its Physical ANYONE can-#-read it but still choosing to Write It Down like a kind of permanence and the way part of that is bc of him getting a secret admirer's-#-love letter when he was young and getting so so infatuated with the concept and finding that writing things down to be such a good way-#-to figure out his thoughts n feelings even if he always burned them after and how he'd want to do that for his partner/romantic interest-#-and how he finds to articulate his feeling through action and Giving rather than verbally when the articulate struggles so he instead-#-says it in the way he helps sb he loves learn an instrument or a skill n guides them and helps them and the way he'd guide the fingers#TOSHIROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO KASUKABEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE u need a partner SO BAD i love u sm#MUSE / Toshiro Kasukabe#STUDY / Toshiro Kasukabe#GAMES / Toshiro Kasukabe#SHIPPING / Toshiro Kasukabe#━ ♔ on such longing i couldn’t spit out : shipping.#━ ♔ shielding your eyes from the bright noon-light : studies.#p5 //#p5t //#food ment //#━ ♔ the world grows green again when you smile : games.
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acourtofquestions · 12 days ago
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Kingdom of Ash Chapter 55-56
Chapter; Highlights, Notes, Tags, etc.
The Thirteen were on edge. They hadn't yet decided where to go. And hadn't been invited to travel with the Crochans to any of their home-hearths. Even Glennis's.
None of them, however, had looked his way when they'd prowled past. None had recognized him.
Dorian had just completed another walking circuit in his little training area when Manon stalked by, silver hair flowing. He paused, no more than a wary Crochan sentinel, and watched her storm through snow and mud as if she were a blade through the world.
Manon had nearly passed his training area when she went rigid.
Slowly, she turned, nostrils flaring.
Those golden eyes swept over him, swift and cutting. Her brows twitched toward each other. Dorian only gave her a lazy grin in return.
Then she prowled toward him.
Another assessing stare. "I would have thought you'd pick a prettier form."
He frowned down at himself. "I think she's pretty enough."
Manon's mouth tightened. "I suppose this means you're about to go to Morath."
"Did I say anything of the sort?" He didn't bother sounding pleasant.
Manon took a step toward him, her teeth flashing. In this body, he stood shorter than her. He hated the thrill that shot through his blood as she leaned down to growl at him. "We have enough to deal with today, princeling."
"Do l look as if I'm standing in your way?" She opened her mouth, then shut it.
Dorian let out a low laugh and made to turn away. An iron-tipped hand gripped his arm.
Strange, for that hand to feel large on his body. Large, and not the slender, deadly thing he'd become accustomed to.
Her golden eyes blazed. "If you want a softhearted woman who will weep over hard choices and ultimately balk from them, then you're in the wrong bed."
"I'm not in anyone's bed right now." He hadn't gone to her tent any of these nights. Not since that conversation in Eyllwe.
She took the retort without so much as a flinch. "Your opinion doesn't matter to me."
"Then why are you standing here?"
Again, she opened and closed her mouth. Then snarled, "Change out of that form." Dorian smiled again. "Don't you have better things to do right now, Your Majesty?" He honestly thought she might unsheathe those iron teeth and rip out his throat.
Half of him wanted her to try. He even went so far as to run one of those phantom hands along her jaw.
"You think I don't know why you don't want me to go to Morath?"
"Tell me to stay," he said, and the words had no warmth, no kindness. "Tell me to stay with you, if that's what you want." His invisible fingers grew talons and scraped over her skin. Manon's throat bobbed. "But you won't say that, will you, Manon?" Her breathing turned jagged. He continued to stroke her neck, her jaw, her throat, caressing skin he'd tasted over and over. "Do you know why?"
"Because while you might be older, might be deadly in a thousand different ways, deep down, you're afraid. You don't know how to ask me to stay, because you're afraid of admitting to yourself that you want it. You're afraid. Of yourself more than anyone else in the world. You're afraid." For several heartbeats, she just stared at him.
Then she snarled, "You don't know what you're talking about," and stalked away.
His low laugh ripped after her. Her spine stiffened. But Manon did not turn back.
Afraid. Of admitting that she felt any sort of attachment.
It was preposterous.
And it was, perhaps, true.
But it was not her problem. Not right now.
Manon stormed through the readying camp where tents were being taken down and folded, hearths being packed. The Thirteen were with the wyverns, supplies stowed in saddlebags.
Some of the Crochans had frowned her way. Not with anger, but something like disappointment.
Discontent. As if they thought parting ways was a poor idea.
Manon refrained from saying she agreed.
Even if the Thirteen followed, the Crochans would find a way to lose them. Use their power to bind the wyverns long enough to disappear.
And she would not lower herself, lower the Thirteen, to become dogs chasing after their masters. They might be desperate for aid, might have promised it to their allies, but she would not debase herself any further.
Manon halted at Glennis's camp, the only hearth with a fire still burning. A fire that would always remain kindled.
A reminder of the promise she'd made to honor the Queen of Terrasen. A single, solitary flame against the cold.
Manon rubbed at her face as she slumped onto one of the rocks lining the hearth. A hand rested on her shoulder, warm and slight. She didn't bother to slap it away.
Glennis said, "We're departing in a few minutes. I thought l'd say good-bye."
Manon peered up at the ancient witch. "Fly well." It was really all there was left to say.
Manon's failure was not due to Glennis, not due to anyone but herself, she supposed.
You're afraid.
It was true. She had tried, but not really tried to win the Crochans. To let them see any part of her that meant something. To let them see what it had done to her, to learn she had a sister and that she had killed her. She didn't know how, and had never bothered to learn.
You're afraid.
Yes, she was. Of everything.
Glennis lowered her hand from Manon's shoulder.
"May your path carry you safely through war and back home at last."
She didn't feel like telling the crone there was no home for her, or the Thirteen.
Glennis turned her face toward the sky, sighing once. Then her white brows narrowed. Her nostrils flared. Manon leapt to her feet.
"Run," Glennis breathed. "Run now."
Manon drew Wind-Cleaver and did no such thing. "What is it?"
"They're here." How Glennis had scented them on the wind, Manon didn't care.
Not as three wyverns broke from the clouds, spearing for their camp.
She knew those wyverns, almost as well as she knew the three riders who sent the Crochans into a frenzy of motion.
The Matrons of the Ironteeth Witch-Clans had found them. And come to finish what Manon had started that day in Morath.
The three High Witches had come alone.
Rushing steps crunched through the icy snow, halting at Manon's side just as Dorian's scent wrapped around her. "Is that—"
"Yes," she said quietly, heart thundering as the Matrons dismounted and did not raise their hands in request for parley. No, they only stalked closer to the hearth, to the precious flame still burning. "Don't engage," Manon warned him and the others, and strode to meet them.
It was not the king's battle, no matter what power dwelled in his veins.
Glennis was already armed, an ancient sword in her withered hands. The woman was as old as the Yellowlegs Matron, yet she stood tall, facing the three High Witches.
Cresseida Blueblood spoke first, her eyes as cold as the iron-spiked crown digging into her freckled brow. "It has been an age, Glennis." But Glennis's stare, Manon realized, was not on the Blueblood Matron. Or even on Manon's own grandmother, her black robes billowing as she sneered at Manon.
It was on the Yellowlegs Matron, hunched and hateful between them. On the crown of stars atop the crone's thinned white hair.
Glennis's sword shook slightly. And just as Manon realized what the Matron had worn here,
Bronwen appeared at Glennis's side and breathed, "Rhiannon's crown."
Worn by the Yellowlegs Matron to mock these witches. To spit on them.
A dull roaring began in Manon's ears.
"What company you keep these days, granddaughter," said Manon's grandmother, her silver-streaked dark hair braided back from her face. A sign enough of their intentions, if her grandmother's hair was in that plait. Battle. Annihilation.
The weight of the three High Witches' attention pressed upon her. The Crochans gathered behind her shifted as they waited for her response.
Yet it was Glennis who snarled, in a voice Manon had not yet heard, "What is it that you want?"
Manon's grandmother smiled, revealing rust-flecked iron teeth. The true sign of her age. "You made a grave error, Manon Kin-Slayer, when you sought to turn our forces against us. When you sowed such lies amongst our sentinels regarding our plans— my plans."
Manon kept her chin high. "I spoke only truth. And it must have frightened you enough that you gathered these two to hunt me down and prove your innocence in scheming against them."
The other two Matrons didn't so much as blink. Her grandmother's claws had to have sunk deep, then. Or they simply did not care.
"We came," Cresseida seethed, the opposite in so many ways of the daughter who had given Manon the chance to speak, "to at last rid us of a thorn in our sides."
Had Petrah been punished for letting Manon walk out of the Omega alive? Did the Blueblood Heir still breathe? Cresseida had once screamed in a mother's terror and pain when Petrah had nearly plunged to her death.
Did that love, so foreign and strange, still hold true? Or had duty and ancient hatred won out?
The thought was enough to steel Manon's spine. "You came because we pose a threat."
Because of the threat you pose to that monster you call grandmother.
"You came," Manon went on, Wind-Cleaver rising a fraction, "because you are afraid."
Manon took a step beyond Glennis, her sword lifting farther.
"You came," Manon said, "because you have no true power beyond what we give you.
And you are scared to death that we're about to take it away." Manon flipped Wind-Cleaver in her hand, angling the sword downward, and drew a line in the snow between them. "You came alone for that fear. That others might see what we are capable of. The truth that you have always sought to hide."
Her grandmother tutted. "Listen to you. Sounding just like a Crochan with that preachy nonsense."
Manon ignored her. Ignored her and pointed Wind-Cleaver directly at the Yellowlegs Matron as she snarled, "That is not your crown."
Something like hesitation rippled over Cresseida Blueblood's face. But the Yellowlegs Matron beckoned to Manon with iron nails so long they curved downward. "Then come and fetch it from me, traitor."
Manon stepped beyond the line she'd drawn in the snow.
No one spoke behind her. She wondered if any of them were breathing.
She had not won against her grandmother. Had barely survived, and only thanks to luck. That fight, she had been ready to meet her end. To say farewell.
Manon angled Wind-Cleaver upward, her heart a steady, raging beat.
She would not greet the Darkness's embrace today. But they would.
"This seems familiar," her grandmother drawled, legs shifting into attacking position.
The other two Matrons did the same. "The last Crochan Queen. Holding the line against us." Manon cracked her jaw, and iron teeth descended. A flex of her fingers had her iron nails unsheathing. "Not just a Crochan Queen this time."
There was doubt in Cresseida's blue eyes.
As if she'd realized what the other two Matrons had not.
There—it was there that Manon would strike first. The one who now wondered if they had somehow made a grave mistake in coming here.
A mistake that would cost them what they had come to protect.
A mistake that would cost them this war.
And their lives.
For Cresseida saw the steadiness of Manon's breathing. Saw the clear conviction in her eyes. Saw the lack of fear in her heart as Manon advanced another step.
Manon smiled at the Blueblood Matron as if to say yes.
"You did not kill me then," Manon said to her grandmother. "I do not think you will be able to now."
"We'll see about that," her grandmother hissed, and charged.
Manon was ready.
An upward swing of Wind-Cleaver met her grandmother's first two blows, and Manon ducked the third. Turning right into the onslaught of the Yellowlegs Matron, who swept up with unnatural speed, feet almost flying over the snow, and slashed for Manon's exposed back.
Manon deflected the crone's assault, sending the witch darting back. Just as Cresseida launched herself at Manon. Cresseida was not a trained fighter. Not as the Blackbeak and Yellowlegs Matrons were. Too many years spent reading entrails and scanning the stars for the answers to the Three-Faced Goddess's riddles.
A duck to the left had Manon easily evading the sweep of Cresseida's nails, and a countermove had Manon driving her elbow into the Blueblood Matron's nose.
Cresseida stumbled. The Yellowlegs Matron and her grandmother attacked again. So fast. Their three assaults had happened in the span of a few blinks. Manon kept her feet under her. Saw where one Matron moved and the other left a dangerous gap exposed.
She was not a broken-spirited Wing Leader unsure of her place in the world.
She was not ashamed of the truth before her.
She was not afraid.
Manon's grandmother led the attack, her maneuvers the deadliest. It was from her that the first slice of pain appeared. A rip of iron nails through Manon's shoulder. But Manon swung her sword, again and again, iron on steel ringing out across the icy peaks.
No, she was not afraid at all.
Around him, the Crochans thrummed with fear and dread. Either for the fight unfolding or the three Matrons who had found them.
But Glennis did not tremble. At her side Bronwen hummed with the energy of one eager to leap into the fight.
Manon and the High Witches sprang apart, breathing heavily. Blue blood leaked down Manon's shoulder, and small slices peppered the three Matrons.
Manon still remained on the far side of the line she'd drawn. Still held it.
The dark-haired witch in voluminous black robes spat blue blood onto the snow. Manon's grandmother. "Pathetic. As pathetic as your mother." A sneer toward Glennis. "And your father."
The snarl that ripped from Manon's throat rang across the mountains themselves.
Her grandmother let out a crow's caw of a laugh. "Is that all you can do, then? Snarl like a dog and swing your sword like some human filth? We will wear you down eventually. Better to kneel now and die with some honor intact." Manon only flung out an iron-tipped hand behind her, fingers splaying in demand as her eyes remained fixed on the Matrons.
Dorian reached for Damaris, but Bronwen moved first.
The Crochan tossed her sword, steel flashing over snow and sun.
Manon's fingers closed on the hilt, the blade singing as she whipped it around to face the High Witches again. "Rhiannon Crochan held the gates for three days and three nights, and she did not kneel before you, even at the end." A slash of a smile. "I think I shall do the same." Dorian could have sworn the sacred flame burning to their left flared brighter. Could have sworn Glennis sucked in a breath. That every Crochan watching did the same.
Manon's knees bent, swords rising. "Let us finish what was started then, too." She attacked, blades flashing.
Her grandmother conceded step after step, the other two Matrons failing to break past her defenses.
Gone was the witch who had slept and wished for death. Gone was the witch who had raged at the truth that had torn her to shreds.
And in her place, fighting as if she were the very wind, unfaltering against the Matrons, stood someone Dorian had not yet met.
Stood a queen of two peoples.
Yielding only those few steps, and nothing more.
Because Manon with conviction in her heart, with utter fearlessness in her eyes, was wholly unstoppable.
The other two witches had fallen back, as if waiting to see what might happen.
But she yielded no further ground. A wall against which the Yellowlegs Matron could not advance. The crone let out a snarl, attacking again and again, senseless and raging.
Dorian saw the trap the moment it happened.
No one seemed to breathe at all as Manon plunged Bronwen's sword into the icy earth beneath and bent to take the crown of stars from the Yellowlegs witch's fallen head.
He had never seen a crown like it.
A living, glowing thing that glittered in her hand. As if nine stars had been plucked from the heavens and set to shine along the simple silver band.
The crown's light danced over Manon's face as she lifted it above her head and set it upon her unbound white hair.
Even the mountain wind stopped.
Yet a phantom breeze shifted the strands of Manon's hair as the crown glowed bright, the white stars shining with cores of cobalt and ruby and amethyst.
As if it had been asleep for a long, long time. And now awoke.
That phantom wind pulled Manon's hair to the side, silver strands brushing across her face.
And beside him, around him, the Thirteen touched two fingers to their brow in deference.
In allegiance to the queen who stared down the two remaining High Witches.
The Crochan Queen, crowned anew.
The sacred fire leaped and danced, as if in joyous welcome.
"Go."
The Blueblood witch blinked, eyes wide with what could only be fear and dread.
Manon jerked her chin toward the wyvern waiting behind the witch. "Tell your daughter all debts between us are paid. And she may decide what to do with you. Take that other wyvern out of here."
Spared by the Crochan Queen on behalf of the daughter who had given Manon the gift of speaking to the Ironteeth.
Within seconds, the Blueblood Matron was in the skies, the Yellowlegs witch's wyvern soaring beside her.
Leaving Manon's grandmother alone.
Leaving Manon with swords raised and a crown of stars glowing upon her brow.
Manon was glowing, as if the stars atop her head pulsed through her body. A wondrous and mighty beauty, like no other in the world. Like no one had ever been, or would be again.
And slowly, as if savoring each step, Manon stalked toward her grandmother.
Warm, dancing light flowed through her, as unfaltering as what had poured into her heart these past few bloody minutes.
She did not balk. Did not fear.
The crown's weight was slight, like it had been crafted of moonlight. Yet its joyous strength was a song, undimming before the sole High Witch left standing.
So Manon kept walking.
She left Bronwen's sword a few feet away.
Left Wind-Cleaver several feet past that.
Iron nails out, teeth ready, Manon paused barely five steps from her grandmother.
A hateful, wasted scrap of existence. That's what her grandmother was.
She had never realized how much shorter the Matron stood. How narrow her shoulders were, or how the years of rage and hate had withered her.
Manon's smile grew. And she could have sworn she felt two people standing at her shoulder.
She knew no one would be there if she looked. Knew no one else could see them, sense them, standing with her. Standing with their daughter against the witch who had destroyed them.
Her grandmother spat on the ground, baring her rusted teeth.
This death, though ...
It was not her death to claim.
It did not belong to the parents whose spirits lingered at her side, who might have been there all along, leading her toward this. Who had not left her, even with death separating them.
No, it did not belong to them, either.
She looked behind her. Toward the Second waiting beside Dorian.
Tears slid down Asterin's face. Of pride- pride and relief.
Manon beckoned to Asterin with an iron- tipped hand.
Manon raised a hand. "Let her go."
When there was no trace of the Matrons left but blue blood and a headless corpse staining the snow, Manon turned toward the Crochans.
Their eyes were wide, but they made no move.
The Thirteen remained where they were, Dorian with them.
Manon scooped up both swords, sheathing Wind-Cleaver across her back, and stalked toward where Glennis and Bronwen stood, monitoring her every breath.
Wordlessly, Manon handed Bronwen her sword, nodding in thanks.
Then she removed the crown of stars and extended it toward Glennis. "This belongs to you," she said, her voice low.
The Crochans murmured, shifting.
Glennis took the crown, and the stars dimmed. A small smile graced the crone's face.
"No," she said, "it does not."
Manon didn't move as Glennis lifted the crown and set it again on Manon's head.
Then the ancient witch knelt in the snow.
"What was stolen has been restored; what was lost has come home again. I hail thee, Manon Crochan, Queen of Witches."
Manon stood fast against the tremor that threatened to buckle her legs.
Stood fast as the other Crochans, Bronwen with them, dropped to a knee. Dorian, standing amongst them, smiled, brighter and freer than she'd ever seen.
And then the Thirteen knelt, two fingers going to their brows as they bowed their heads, fierce pride lighting their faces.
"Queen of Witches," Crochan and Blackbeak declared as one voice.
As one people.
#Chapter 55#Chapter 56#Kingdom of Ash#Sarah J. Maas#Manon Blackbeak#Dorian Havilliard#Manorian#Asterin Blackbeak#The Thirteen#first read#read along#read with me#no spoilers please#First Read along with me NO SPOILERS PLEASE though warning for post & tags up to KoA 56 & more reacts/notes/quotes in tags below#The witches-alone-Morath-Glennis-Petrah why-don’t be poisoned-THE CROWN-her braid-their hatred & fear yet her forward#beyond what we give-is that a wyrdmark?-she would not-she would stand-not then but now becuase a cause-SHE WAS NOT AFRAID#he listened to her/believed in her-they did not tremble-they did not yield-she would not kneel-they came for her too-for them she did this#THE SWORD-uh yeah same-GONE WAS THAT WITCH-from the flame-AND HERE WAS THE LAST CROCHAN QUEEN-I love her#the wind answered-a queen of two people-convinction in her hearts fearless in her eyes and utterly unstoppable-you went for me#well Ansel said-SHE CROWNED HERSELF-matching crowns?-a phantom breeze the chill-the witch queen brow bow-that’s what she learned#they ran from her-mercy?-a debt-and one paid-true queens rising-a literal Star-not her death to claim-Asterin-manon I fucking love you#it’s yours-QUEEN OF WITCHES-Dorian smiled🥹-him watching his wife like same-he is us-short king-Iltsm#A sign enough of their intentions if her grandmother's hair was in that plait. Battle. Annihilation.—HAIR HOLDS POWER PEOPLE#Manon Kin-Slayer… a real rich name coming from her#because YOU are afraid-I kept reading peachy nonsense lol-chills-I’m gonna go cry-I love her#A blade through the world-shorter-bi bbs-the way she knows-it's a mate thing I swear-I'm not anyone's-#if you want someone who will allow that then ur wrong-shell keep him alive-double lines in the sand-your afraid-the word majesty#not back not now-a queen-a true queen against the world-afraid of everything-home?-HOLY SHIT RUN-mother matron crone#You're afraid-I will not be afraid-coward-the fear of fear-run now-hold the line-retreat and live-You’re afraid. Yes she was. Of everything#Fly Well they've run for a long time they know-but she would not-the truth time
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scoriarose · 29 days ago
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I love your snakes so much, they're so cute!
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Scoria: [bows] Sakura: [Rhaspberries] PBBBTTT~! Avid (the human): Thank you! My girls bring me so much joy. I hope sharing the cuter side of them will help people see snakes for what they really are, and maybe make the world more understanding and a better place for all snakes. ^_^
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robobee · 2 years ago
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thinking further about henry being the one to lead gansey to his death... the way he literally should've been the demons vassal and gansey's final test would've been some narratively satisfying thing about letting the forest die and he goes No & he dies but saves everyone and the sacrifice is what works but the rest of them are irrevocably harmed and drift apart bc of it
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mangomybeloved · 1 year ago
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https://www.teenvogue.com/story/karan-brar-how-i-found-myself
Karan Brar wrote this article speaking about being diagnosed with PTSD and depression and coming out as bisexual.
I admire him for being able to come out with something so personal cause I can only imagine how difficult the past few years were for him.
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