#thorn is all about that

[eatsbooks]

eris vanserra being young and small and wondering why his mother cannot quite bear to hold him. (he doesn’t know it yet, but he — more than being betrothed to beron, more than getting married, more than conception — has sealed her fate. the first born boy. the heir. she is now the mother of a baby beron will ruin, and she can never leave him, but she can never save him. the illusion of choice is taken from her in his first breath.) eris vanserra watching the same thing happen with every baby after him; kept at arm’s length, left to governesses and wet nurses and tutors, chaste smoothing of hair and infrequent kisses to the crowns of heads but no more. (he was so excited for the first brother and incrementally less so with each subsequent. he knew what his father would turn them into; he knew that his mother would not be able to love them.) ((in this way, he is not so unlike his mother, even if he cannot understand her.)) eris vanserra having to mold himself in his father’s image to be able to protect his mother and thus incurring more of his mother’s disgust.

eris vanserra being an adult and watching his mother cradle the final brother, lucien, to her chest like he is something precious, like he is something sacred. eris vanserra still not understanding what made him different at birth than this brother, what made him unlovable. (he knows why she does not love him now, himself seeing only his father in the mirror anymore, but he still cannot quite figure out why she did not love him then.) ((even when he does find out, he will not understand, not fully. he did not choose his sire; she did. how is it his fault that he carries beron’s blood and lucien is fortunate enough not to?)) (((even so, he knows that lucien needs to be protected at all costs. he has never seen his mother so happy, and that is all he has ever wanted for her.)))

[mozzzz05]

I just had an upsetting thought - what if Alison constantly visited the Ghosts and knew - when she was old and grey and had lived a life - that she was going to die, so she made sure she was in Button House for it?

Mike accepts it and understands her want to go back to the Ghosts, they’re like family, they’re always there.

But then it’s Mike’s turn to go and he decides it must happen at Button House too. He’ll see his wife again! Spend a couple of hundred years together & hey he can actually meet/talk to the ghosts now!

Only when he dies and he meets all the Ghosts, who are all excited to actually talk to him etc, he asks where Alison is, only to find that she moved on straight away.

He finally gets to see a part of his life that was so bizarre for him, so secret and hidden, part of his life where he only ever had half a story. And now he has that half but his whole world is still gone and he doesn’t know when he’ll ever see her again.

[arson-09]

Tamlin did everything he did because all he wanted was to protect feyre and make sure she lived.

and rhy/sand wouldn’t even tell her that her own baby would kill her.

[flowersforthemachines]

Rook Joins the Book Club - Mod

As one of the many people sad that Rook wasn't included in the Book Club, I set out to fix it by editing the codex entries in the game :)

There are 6 versions of the mod available, one for each faction. Here is a showcase of the Warden version:

The rest of the entries can be found under the cut.

Crow Rook:

Lord of Fortune Rook:

Shadow Dragon Rook:

Veil Jumper Rook:

Mourn Watcher Rook (typo in the word "possession" is fixed in the latest version of the mod):

[readngandweepng]

a nsft brief glimpse into my mind here but god i love men who can’t help but beg for you in their mother tongue because they just feel so good they can’t think straight enough to stick to one language. even hotter when you can’t understand them so they’re just bucking their hips as they prattle away, and maybe you can hear a “please” or a call of your name through the rambling before it’s cut short as they cum. and if you can understand them it makes them reach their peak even faster when you abide by a command they weren’t even aware they blurted out in the midst of their mind literally breaking.

actually, might even be hotter to fuck someone with an entire language barrier between you, where the only understanding you have is that you want to fuck each other. you wouldn’t need to exchange words to get the hint when they get on their back or stomach and basically present themselves to you, and if that somehow doesn’t get the message across they’ll put their mouth to use by getting on their knees and fishing your cock out. when you actually fuck them is when they won’t be able to stop talking, and regardless of what you say or how you say it, they’ll moan and whine all the same because language barrier aside they just want to get fucked.

i was gonna rant about thorns (from arknights, who i'll post about soon btw) in my tags but it got too long so im doing it under the cut here lmao

so thorn's eng voice got released and oh my god. i kind of need thorns. like i NEED him. i could single-handedly repopulate iberia if i had to. i would be the worst doctor because all i would want to do is fuck thorns. i want him to speak spanish to me i want to fuck him so hard that he can't speak english anymore someone would have to physically restrain me from breeding him. also off topic but i can imagine him literally making his own t shots because like seriously he probably would do it for fun. ftm thorns he'd be really flat chested already and wouldn't feel the need to bind either. and he'd be so fertile ugghh........

[kattodoesstuff]

The Nun and the Son of Jod

so... alecto huh

[cc1010fox]

Thire: ...Your shebs is sagging... Fox: You were looking. Thire: Damn right I was. What's with the sagging? Fox: I stole Thorn's pants. Thire: Were you trying to prove he's got a thicker shebs than you? Fox: No. That's obvious. I just wanted to force him into my pants. Thire: ...Why? Fox: They're so tight on him that you can see through them when he bends over. Thire: Oh my Manda... Fox: It makes life worth living. Thire: ...I need to go. Fox: Senators keeping you busy? Thire: No. I need to convince Thorn to take off his shebs plate, then bend over. Fox: Wait for me!

[yaralulu]

so glad i was reminded of this scene so i could be insufferable about it

[luckycl0ve]

Sounds like you and me.

sometimes the dialogue supports your own backstory for your ocs. in this instance. well. rook is the inquisitor's illegitimate son that he didn't know he had

You are the Inquisitor / You are Rook:

You are the Inquisitor. You were born of a scandalous affair between your father and an elven grand enchanter. Lord Trevelyan is a harsh, imposing, mountain of a man, so you're tall; you can hide the slight point of your ears behind your hair, so your open secret need never go addressed. Besides, Lady Trevelyan is kind, and raises you as her own alongside your true-born brothers and sisters - even when your magic manifests - though she cannot protect you from being taken to the circle at Ostwick. You meet a loving partner there, an elf a couple of years your senior, but the relationship does not last as they disappear without notice one day - one of many heartbreaks. You think of them whenever you hear Solas speak of the plight of the elven people, and you wonder if he knows of your lineage, but feel unable to ask: the topic has always been unspeakable for you, as a result of your upbringing, though you yearn to know yourself more. It is only in the later days of the Inquisition when Dorian gently breaks it to you - having done some research after hearing rumours circulating in Tevinter about a scandal concerning his beloved - that your old partner disappeared to have your son. He is a grey warden and a mage and, of course, he is an elf. You have missed his entire life and, from the sounds of it, it's not been an easy one for him. You could have helped him, maybe, or at least shown him that though you didn't count on him existing, you want to try and be something to him - for him. You wouldn't have chosen to leave him at the mercy of a world that treats mages and elves the way it does on his own. But so much for that. You cannot take it back nor make it right. He is 29 now, and what's more - he's working with Varric to undo your mistakes. You write letters, but they go unanswered: he doesn't wish to see you, and you can't say you blame him, though you wish he didn't feel that way. But when Solas' ritual goes wrong, you must see him anyway. It's what you wanted, but you can scarcely face what you are to him, what you've lost, and the way you've repeated and intensified the very mistakes your father made concerning you. 

You are angry. You are grieving what could have been. You yearn to be understood by the man opposite you, but you know it's probably too late for that, and there are more pressing matters at hand. What's been done weeps like an open wound inside you. You wonder if words could ever close it.

-

You are Rook. As a child you were essentially an orphan in the alienage at Denerim, having been sequestered there after a pair of mages had a child at the circle of Ostwick, to avoid scandal for some noble family or other. You were 7 when the fifth blight hit Denerim, and a Grey Warden who smiled and made jokes amidst the battle and the chaos fished you out of the rubble and handed your care over to the Dalish allies he was fighting alongside, given that the alienage was reduced to blood and ashes. You wanted to be like that warden when you grew up. You spent years with the Dalish, learning their language and customs, and the ways of magic under their keeper, but never truly fit in - even when you were able sit stone-still and silent for your vallaslin ceremony at age 16. You bear the vallaslin of Mythal on your face, the only steadfast mother you've had, though you aren't sure she's real. You left to find yourself not long after that, living a turbulent and troubled life travelling the Free Marches; Ferelden was no place for a free mage at that time let alone an elven one. You spent a few years in Darktown, Kirkwall, under the care and mentorship of an undercover mage who helped the less fortunate, including you, facilitating your physical transition. He showed you kindness you hadn't seen since the women in the alienage sang you lullabies, and you found a freedom in being as kind and just as he was, too. Trouble and violence inevitably came with associating with him, however, and the resultant choice to join the Grey Wardens and finally know your place was a clear one, if not one made lightly. You found out, through gossip and the knowledge of your elders, that you are a Trevelyan's son - the one they call Inquisitor. Travelling with Varric, you try not to ask too many questions about him, because clearly he's never been interested in you. You don't read the letters marked with the Inquisitor's seal: you know there are no words that can make up for all the trouble you've seen, and hardship you've experienced, in your young but tough life. You want to burn the letters, and wish he could feel it when you do - but somehow you can't find the strength in your righteous anger to cast them into the Lighthouse's fire; you leave them for Harding to read instead. On the strange journey you're undertaking, you eventually cannot avoid meeting Trevelyan, and you find that seeing yourself in him at long last - the parallels between your lives, the physical similarities - steals all the words you've fantasised about saying to him from your tongue. 

You are angry. You are grieving what could have been. You yearn to be understood by the man opposite you, but you know it's probably too late for that, and there are more pressing matters at hand. What's been done weeps like an open inside you. You wonder if words could ever close it.

[httpsnfwmbaby]

Why Shrike by Hozier is The Jayvik Song

In the past few days this song has carried itself through my room so many times that it can be practically heard in the walls even when it isn't playing. There isn't a song by Hozier that I do not love but I do have favourites, and Shrike has to be one of them. And given the fact that my hyperfixation on Jayvik has taken residence in the deep hallways of my mind, I was unable to stop myself from thinking of them while listening to this song. So, dear reader, enjoy my analysis of the song and my first contribution to Jayvik nation.

If you'd like to listen to the song as you read this I highly recommend the Live at Windmill Lane Studios version.

Shrike is a song conveying the story of someone who could never fully articulate the affection hidden within their ribcage to their lover. The melodic and gentle music stands as a contrast to the not so gentle imagery of the lyrics. And together they wove the tapestry of a love realised too late. That said, it is far from a gentle love - "hung like the pelt of some prey you had worn; by your grounded and giving and darkening scorn." But despite the darkening scorn of their lover, and the image of them as a hunter, they yearn for them, covering them with adoration - "your sharp and glorious thorn." And isn't that the essence of human existence (that is if you believe that everything is, indeed, about love - in any shape or form that it takes)? We love despite knowing that it might never be enough. We love despite knowing that love is a thorn that could impale us.

I couldn't utter my love when it counted Ah, but I'm singing like a bird about it now

The realisation of a love gone by sinks its teeth so deep it meets his very bones as he grieves the lack of affection bestowed upon his lover. All that is left is to wonder what to do with all this grief. Where to put it? Realising he can no longer keep it hidden inside his chest where it might bleed into his liver, he sets it free like a songbird.

Words hung above but never would form

The weight of affection that rests on one's shoulders is like a blanket of warmth. But a blanket is so easy to reshape unless it's carved out of stone. Lovers, like blankets, can also slip away from us if we are unable to convey the feelings we hold for them.

Like a cry at the final breath that is drawn

The realisation that crystalises too late. Already after their time has come to an end. It is the realisation that the sadness that now crawls its way into his existence leaves him hollow - a gosh of a person awaiting death so that he could be reunited with his lover once again, and perhaps for the first time in all its intensity.

Remember me, love, when I'm reborn As a shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn

These have to be some of my favourite lyrics ever written, for they sing of a love greater than romantic love. It is a love closer to devotion. A love that has loved, and has failed, and now it will spend decades yearning and starving - the same way a shrike will starve without its thorn. And despite it all, it is a love that survives like a prayer. It is the devotion that leaves slightly parted lips longing for a kiss. It longs to repent for its mistakes, and it vows to do so in the next life as well.

He knows his lover isn't perfect - a sharp thorn - but as he thinks of them now, he dresses them with light. A glorious thorn. He finds beauty in their flaws and their possible cruelty, for one cannot be without the other. Life is terrifying, so is beauty, and so is love. It is a testament to the fact that he doesn't see his lover as simply one or the other but as a possibility of everything they have ever been and could be to him as he can no longer think of them outside of his love.

Then when I met you, my virtues uncounted All of my goodness is going with you now

Meeting his lover has shaped him into the person he has become - it has filled him with virtue and goodness, for love makes us gentle. And far more often than not, it replaces the sun with a person as they become the sole source of all warmth. And once they are gone, that warmth leaves with them.

Dragging along, following your form Hung like a pelt of some prey you had worn

Here the uncovering of the darkness of his lover takes a firmer shape. Dragging after his lover. Following wherever they want him to go like a prey that has succumbed to its hunter. And unable to move on, hung like a pelt on his lover. With this imagery he paints himself as the victim of their hunt. While the role of his lover as the hunter stands undeniable, he plays the role of the one who remains unmoving in his love far too late of his own accord.

I fled to the city with so much discounted Ah, but I'm flying like a bird to you now Back to the hedgerows where bodies are mounted

The urgency of fleeing to a crowded place and burying oneself in the words of countless others rather than constantly grieving so much. The return to his lover - flying free of all past regrets in this new shape that he has been reborn into. To the hedgerows where bodies are mounted as a shrike who relies on its thorn not only to survive but also to fully live.

I was housed by your warmth, thus transformed By your grounded and giving and darkening scorn

Here again he praises his lover's warmth, among others, for transforming him for the better. However, there is also much imperfection to his lover as there was much imperfection to his love. Like a gathering of storming clouds, a profound feeling of disdain hangs above him, thus diming the warmth his lover had previously carved within him.

Remember me, love, when I'm reborn As a shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn

Despite it all, the affection he has for his lover is of such intensity that he will carry it into his next life. And then he will live as a shrike to their thorn. They will no longer have to seek each other out. There will be no time or place for longing or fear or aching of past mistakes. Even if tomorrow isn't certain, a shrike only needs its thorn.

And is this any different from the story of Viktor and Jayce? Viktor, much like the lover in this song, has been the one to show Jayce that he can take the path that leads him to the magic he has always dreamt of. He showed him that despite the dismissive reaction of everyone, there is someone who believes in his dream. When the world has failed him and drained him of his light, Viktor was the one to relight the fire of his ambition - becoming the pulse Jayce could hold onto instead of succumbing to the shrieking of his doubts. And he was also the one to remind him of the goodness of his intentions. It seems natural then that, when Viktor was taken away from him by death herself, Jayce could only think with a mind clouded by emotion. For how can one stay tender and true to his word with blood staining his hands? When faced with the fact that Viktor could be taken away from him, Jayce was unable to cling to principles - willing to go so far as to bring him back no matter the cost. There is no clearer declaration of selfish love than this. But something is wrong. When Viktor awakes the betrayal is stronger than Jayce’s longing, and so he leaves. It is too late. Jayce has realised his love, as it truly was, once his lover has already been destined to be taken away from him. Viktor leaves, and Jayce waits. One is selfish as he brings his love back, the other selfless as he leaves his love behind. A shrike and a thorn. And then Jayce is thrown into the alternate universe where he becomes prey haunted by the ghosts of the glorious evolution and observed by another version of his lover. Despite all his heartach, he drags himself up to meet him and he devotes his life to amend the mistakes of the past as well as the ones he has yet to let happen. It might have been his selfishness that has caused all this, but it is his selfless devotion that saves them both. And as he holds Viktor through his grief in their final moments together, as he presses their foreheads together, he is not worried for what is about to come next. Even if tomorrow isn’t certain, a shrike only needs its thorn. 

[flowersforthemachines]

Last Line Written

Rules: Post the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence!

Thank you @soeasilyswayed @complikatedd @skullypettibone and @kindlyfeline for tagging me, I love being thought of <3

Arguably the best thing to come out of taking a break from Tumblr is a post-canon fic of Viago and Ghilasara solving a Problem through the power of politicking and emotionally detached behaviour. Here's the latest line from that:

It will be fun, Viago, she wants to add. Or at least entertainingly miserable.

Tagging @wardensantoineandevka @rookamell @broodwoof @dymme bc I don't believe you've done this one c: (but feel free to ignore)

[shittalkingwiththesuriel]

I recently learned that I can lock my likes

And now nothing is stopping me from liking the ungodly amount of smutty Azriel fanfiction I read

[thefatesofspring]

Credits to: creativelbd on TikTok

Remember when I said a little while back that I can’t believe people think that Eris was the same age if not slightly younger than Mor when in reality he was no older than 10-11yrs old?…well Sam has done an amazing breakdown of how old Eris was actually likely to be & guess what…he’s younger than even I stated��

Please watch it & understand that realistically it’s not possible for Eris to have been in his teens or Mor’s age.

[roselensedeyes]

celeana/aelin and chaol ceased to exist as a couple the moment she was unable to forgive him for his part in nehemia's assassination. he didn't kill nehemia, but he trusted his kingdom more than he did celeana. in her eyes, he was as responsible as the person who held the weapon.

elain and lucien ceased to exist as a couple the moment she looked him in the eyes and told him "you were there. you betrayed us." he didn't kidnap nesta and elain and forced them into the cauldron, but in her eyes he's as responsible as ianthe, tamlin and he king of hybern.

[thedeadthree]

-ˋˏ .·:·. ⊱ 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐋𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐛𝐲 @pavus — day one: 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞.

— 𝐈𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐕𝐀𝐑 . 𝐕𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐈 𝐃𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀 . 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄.

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐃𝐀𝐒. 𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐒.

— 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 (mutuals can opt in/out via 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 <3):

@loriane-elmuerto, @carrionsflower, @auricfog, @girliefailure, @sunsofdawn

@risingsh0t, @griffin-wood, @lilywatt, @full---ofstarlight, @grapecaseschoices

@tommyarashikage, @shadowsofrose, @shadowglens, @weisshaupts, @queennymeria

@deadrlngers, @d-esmond, @courtana, @gothimp, @wlwaerith

@unholymilf, @aezyrraeshh, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @shellibisshe, @florbelles

@celticwoman, @neonshrike, @cloudofbutterflies92, @adelaidedrubman, @carlosoliveiraa

@pinkfey, @spookyrares, @yharnams, @aceghosts, @confidentandgood

@theelderhazelnut, @leviiackrman, @ellierenae, @anoras, @lavampira

@dialdrunk, @full---ofstarlight, @imogenkol

[lainalit]

Every women over the age of 20 in this fandom who still calls Tamlin "Tampon" peaked in High school💀