#you can’t take love away

[dietwatergrape]

I’m stuck thinking about palamedes figuring out that the souls of lyctored cavs rub off on their necros and what that means for jod and alecto and why they're like that

john, who as just a man, a man who loved. he loved the earth, he loved humanity, he loved his devotees. he loved and he loved and he loved and he was equally as obsessed as he was devoted and desperate as he was reckless and angry and selfish and egotistical. he doubtless still had his worst traits but he loved

and alecto, who was the earth, the earth who raged. she raged and gifted john somehow a way to survive and save her, to save them all. she was angry and near uncontrollable, who became monstrous in her grief and her agony and her betrayal from john. the earth, alecto, she raged.

and then. and then their souls merged and swirled and part of her lives in him and part of him lives in her. and john, he became angrier. he ruthlessly seemingly without reason continued to hunt down those he saw as wronging the earth for the myriads. he still was a man who loved but he was a man who's love was fueled with rage. he became monstrous he became the vengeance the Earth sought but took it too far

but alecto. the earth who became woman who became monster. she, sleeping in her tomb, in her dream, when a small child kissed her because she seemed so lovely. her soul learned to love. and then and then! she awoke not knowing who she was but she loved so hard. she loved everyone and everything she loved people the way john did she loved the planet and nature and the animals she loved the things that were akin to what she used to be. she loved and loved and loved. she still had rage, she had her meltdowns, but her rage was fueled by loved and she became human.

and - and how beautiful that these people so far removed from the earth met nona, alecto, earth, and they learned to care for her and they loved her and put it all on the line for her and in turn when it was time she returned to herself and sure she still had her rage but even more so she had all that love

[eldritch-ace]

I too think he deserves a kwagatama

[rapselsstuff]

Collection of Pyrrha moments that make me want to yet myself into orbit for her

[starmocha]

Relentless Conqueror Sylus/Reader | 1790 words | Masterlist | AO3 To be wedded to the strongest warrior in the village was an honor and a blessing. A/N: I saw someone specified that Sylus is dressed as a Mongolian wrestler in the new memory. I am so excited for it, but um…this fic has absolutely nothing to do with that. My mind just swerved completely off-course the moment I saw this man manhandling us again lmao And…yeah…this is based on this post I made earlier. Still in my ✨shameful Sylus posting era✨ 😔 MDNI.

In the wide-open plane of the grassland, everything could be heard for miles all around. Stretched across the vast expanse, one area was occupied by numerous huts making up a small but thriving village.

Within the village, everyone had a role. The elders guided and led the villagers with their years of wisdom. The men were providers, hunters, and warriors while the women sustained the community and reared the children who would one day take over, thus continuing this cycle of life.

You were no exception. It was time for you to take your place among others with the new role you were about to take.

Fortune had smiled down upon you. Hushed whispers wove through the village, going from mouth to mouth, passing loose lips after loose lips, before the news finally reached you.

Sylus had chosen you to be his bride.

To be chosen by the strongest warrior in the village to be his bride was an honor bestowed only on you. He would provide you with a life of comfort and in turn, you were to bear him strong children. Many of the other maidens envied you, wanting to covet your place, to steal him away from you.

However, Sylus was truly the epitome of the ideal warrior: Large, strong, and imposing. He was unyielding on the battlefield, and he was unyielding in his decisions.

Of all the maidens who had crossed his path, only one had managed to ensnare him, to captivate him like no others.

You.

It was a prosperous union witnessed in a lavish ceremony by the entire village, cheered to be blessed by the gods themselves. A true match made in Heaven, many declared, as the wedding ceremony ended and the celebration began.

Arm linked with your new husband, you greeted and thanked the well-wishers, watching with wonders as everyone feasted and drank to your marriage. The merriment started from morning and continuing well into the late night. After nightfall had descended, Sylus led you away from the celebration. No one noticed the absence of the bride and groom, too drunk on alcohol and the festivities to even be aware of their surroundings.

Sylus whisked you away to his quiet hut, far from the music, laughter, and cheers. He towered over you, holding aside the curtain at the entryway to allow you entrance. As you entered, you could see the hut had been prepped for the wedding night.

It was a very comfortable living space, more extravagant than many of the other villagers’ homes. You barely had a moment to fully take in the sight of your new home before Sylus swept you off your feet, cradled in his arms as he carried you to his bed. He laid you down on fur, your beauty illuminated by the lamps within the hut. You could still hear the residual laughter and chatters outside as the rest of the villagers continued in their merriment celebrating this union.

“Pay them no heed,” Sylus ordered, grasping your chin firmly and forcing your sight on him. “Tonight, and for the rest of our lives, you are mine.”

He kissed you roughly, not minding your inexperience. It pleased him that your chasteness meant you were untouched, meant that he would have the sole honor of claiming you.

He disrobed his blushing bride, guiding your nimble hands to his toned body, letting you touched upon his firm muscles, feel the heat from his body. One by one, accessories fell, clinking and clanking on the ground. Then, his own ceremonial garments were discarded, tossed carelessly to the side and leaving him bare and nude, your eyes feasting on the wonderous sight of your new husband.

You swallowed slowly, feeling the gentle flutters of butterflies in your belly. He smirked at your nervousness. One hand cupped your cheek, pulling you closer to him. You whimpered when he claimed your lips again, his large body overpowering you in seconds. He had you spread beneath him, his own body looming over yours and keeping you trapped under him. He cupped your sex, startling you as his long, slender fingers worked into your folds.

You let out a sharp gasp, fingers finding their way into his hair, and tugging at him nervously.

“Relax,” he ordered, “You’re not ready for me yet.”

He was well-endowed, his size intimidating, and you unconsciously clenched, only realizing when you heard Sylus’ deep chuckle. You blushed crimson, but your embarrassment soon passed the moment you felt Sylus working his fingers in and out of you.

“Ah—” Your hips moved on their own, desperately meeting his thrusts, wanting more, just a bit more. Your toes curled, body tensing up when you felt his thumb brushing against something that was causing you to jolt in pleasure. “M-more…Sylus…please…”

“You like that, sweetie?”

You nodded numbly, your voice coming out breathless. “Yes…please…my husband.”

You didn’t see the way Sylus’ eyes gleamed in satisfaction, didn’t hear his quick intake of breath over your own helpless moans. He smirked.

He seized your mouth again, taking in your startled cries, his fingers slipping in and out of your wet folds faster and faster. “My bride—my wife…” he murmured back, nipping and sucking greedily, “You’re so wet now, sweetie…Do you feel good?”

You sobbed and cried as his fingers curled inside. There was a tightening in your belly. You called out to him, scared. “Sy—Sylus…”

He shushed you gently. “Come for me.”

You clenched around his fingers, your cries filling the room. Sylus’ smirk widened as he watched you come undone by his fingers alone. He kissed your lips, praising you softly as you panted and sobbed. You barely recovered when he withdrew his fingers, his length taking place.

You bucked in surprise, eyes widening. “Sy-Sylus, no…”

“You are ready for me, my bride,” he assured. He pressed forward and you gripped a handful of the fur throw beneath you, your sensitive body feeling suddenly overstimulated by the massive intrusion taking place. Impossibly big, you thought, as your walls stretched around his thick length, taking him in slowly through much pain. He barely comforted you, seemingly enjoying the sight of you gasping and moaning as you were getting stuffed by him. His soft pants grew shallower, his eyes darkened with desire as he watched his beloved new bride taking him in inch by inch.

He praised you over and over once he was fully sheathed inside you, his deep voice comforting you in that moment. “You’re doing so well,” he said, voice thick with desire, “I have chosen the perfect wife.”

You felt a warmth in your belly, his praise filling you with unexpected joy. “Sylus…”

He smirked.

He took you brutally, riding you as rough and hard like his faithful steed. You wept and sobbed as his powerful thrusts reached that euphoric spot that had you writhing and moaning, begging him for more and more of this sweet, agonizing pleasure. You had never known the touch of a man before this night, and from this moment onwards, Sylus made sure you never will. He was going to make sure your body learned that you were his, craved only him, and only satisfied by him.

He was wrecking you, ruining you. You moaned as his large hand covered your flat belly. “You better prepare yourself, my bride,” he husked, “the women in my family only bear large children.”

You trembled, unsure if what you were feeling was fear or otherwise. He slipped his hands under you, groping and grabbing your buttocks and lifting you off the bed, your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. Immediately, your head lolled to the side, your moans resounded within the private space as you felt him penetrating you deeply, his pacing still unrelenting and unforgiving. This new angle had you calling out to him needily, feeling the second climax approaching fast.

Closer…and closer…and closer—

“Dear gods…” he groaned as you came undone again, your walls squeezing tightly around his cock. He pressed you back into the bed, letting you ride out your high as he chased after his. His hand grasped yours, pressing them deeper into the bedding.

“Gonna fuck my child into you,” he grunted, his hips slapping against yours, “Gonna breed you, have you heavy with my baby in your womb.”

He fondled your breast, massaging it roughly under his calloused hand. His mouth was close to yours, his hot, humid breath fanned over your lips. “Gonna have you swell, gonna have you bear me sons and daughters over and over again…”

Your legs locked around his waist, pulling him in closer to his surprise. He smirked. His hand reached out to brush your hair out of your sweat-slicked face. He leaned in closer, kissing you briefly, and then he asked, “Did you like the sound of that, my bride? Do you like what I am saying? Do you like knowing this is your role from now on? To bear my children over and over again?”

“Y—” you bit down on your bottom lip, embarrassed.

“Say it,” he demanded, thrusting in harder, eliciting more of your sweet cries.

He held you close and you sobbed into his shoulder, arms wrapped around his neck as you felt him still pounding into your pussy. “Yes…Yes…!” you cried out, clinging to him, “I want your baby…I want to have all of your babies, Sylus!”

“Fuck’s sake…” His eyes squeezed shut, feeling you come again already. This time, he also felt his own climax, felt himself pumping hot into you. He groaned again, “Take every last drop, sweetie.”

You felt so impossibly full, his seed flooding your womb. There was not a doubt in your head that this union wouldn’t be fruitful. You were going to carry his baby, bear him large, strong sons—future warriors to carry on his legacy.

“My bride, my beautiful bride,” he murmured, lavishing you in his sweet kisses as he pulled out. He gazed down at you, taking in the sight of your flushed cheeks and doe eyes staring back at him. He hummed softly, his lips finding yours again, his large hand interlocking with yours.

“Mine.”

Beyond the hut, the celebration continued. Laughter and singing continued well into the late night, but within this hut, there was only the labored breathing, desperate gasps and pleased moans filling the space for hours on end. Time seemed to have slowed down, the world quieting.

He took you, claimed you over and over again. Your body was his, and his was yours. From this day and onwards, in this life and all of the lifetimes to come, you were his bride, the only one capable of stealing the heart of the feared conqueror of the grassland.

[brungeons-and-bragons]

Me starting GTN after hearing about it from a friend: NEEEEEEED the bone lesbians to kiss

Me finishing NTN: love is all around me and god needs to die.

[tanis-zed]

Nona, Alecto, and nature vs nurture:

I often think about Alecto, this screaming berserker of a woman, filled with unending rage and love… and how she’s fundamentally the same person, the same soul, as Nona. Nona, who loves everyone, Nona, who thinks flowers are sexy but gingers aren’t. And I think about the difference between them.

Alecto’s rage is well known, and VERY justified. But what I find most fascinating about her is her inhumanity. The lyctors describe her as off putting, monstrous even, like a shambling *thing* in human shape. I think about how the lyctors describe her… and then I think about Nona, the worm with problems. Nona, the girl who doesn’t quite know how to be a person, but she’s working on it.

By their own accounts, the lyctors were wary of Alecto from the beginning, treating her with fear, with suspicion. She was just born, just learning to be a person, and they treated her like a monster. Is it any wonder she acted like one?

Nona, on the other hand was treated with love, with patience and kindness. She was treated like a lost peer, a friend, as family. Pyrrha, Palamedes, and Camilla did what they could to raise this strange creature that didn’t know how to be a person but had an *awful* temper, and they raised her with love. Is it any wonder that Nona learned to love everything?

I wonder how much better things could have been, if John had been able to love Alecto like Palamedes, Pyrrha, and Cam loved Nona.

[blackbatcass]

Cass & Babs

The Blind Assassin, Margaret Atwood / Les Misérables, Victor Hugo / You've Always Been More of a Dog Person, Trina Das / When I Grow Up I Want to Be a List of Further Possibilities, Chen Chen / Tell the Wolves I'm Home, Carol Rifka Brunt / Norwegian Wood, Haruki Murakami / Letters to Milena, Franz Kafka / Wide Sargasso Sea, Jean Rhys / Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal, Jeanette Winterson / In the name of Love, Katie Maria

[smilesrobotlover]

Slow walker meets fast walker

[tsuchinokoroyale]

Happy new years… let’s stay hydrated together ✨

[mel-ixa]

The more I think about it, the more the RWRB fandom is winning because what do you mean we have a book (with a collector edition!) AND an amazingly written film AND an upcoming sequel??

The difference in the film vs book makes it even better because now there’s 2 versions and they’re both good and canon!!

One of my fav changes in the film is that Alex passed Henry his key in exchange for the ring so they both held on to a piece of each other when the leak happened. And that Alex was the one who played the song in the V&A right after Henry said he always wanted to dance with someone he loved there like omg 😭

I just choose whichever bits I prefer and now the mashed up version in my head is the best of both worlds and damn we are so well-fed!!

Im not even going to get started on AO3 content cause the pairing has over 10k fics so it’s just a buffet there.

And of course Taylor and Nic are both such incredible actors. Like honestly what is there not to love about RWRB!!

[fantasticgothicpeachsludge]

Something something Agent Haldwell being from Jennifer’s movie something something probably her love interest something something they probably had weird “you’re coming with me little missy” kind of banter written by weird male writers something something Jennifer changing the misogynistic script something something drowning him in his own piss

[asweetersapphic]

y’all do realize that the statements “police brutality is abhorrent and never acceptable” and “i feel bad for caitlyn kiramman arcane in s2” are two statements/thoughts that can coexist, right?

[larrysblooming]

35 songs, 3 albums of his own and yet he says the best song of his life (OF HIS LIFE!!!! 😭😭😭) is what makes you beautiful by one direction

[lavendermoonlitskies]

Yeah ok Netflix

I’m sure that’s the real reason

[mermaidgirl30]

Today has been awful and terrifying, to say the least. But you also know what else it did? It inspired me to write and put that flame back to get my book written. No man can take my mind, my passion, or my sincere love for writing away. They can’t take my words or my freedom to write. I will NEVER stop doing what makes me happy. Even if one day I have to write it all out on paper.

[quietwingsinthesky]

Dean is such a paradox for me because on the one hand, I have been actively triggered by him in the show, there are moments where, intentionally or not, the writers managed to create a portrayal of manipulation and abuse and control issues that it sets off actual alarms for me. And on the other hand, I would not have him any other way. There is something — not comforting, that’s too soft a word — about knowing where Dean’s actions stem from, having seen and learned all that we do about his childhood neglect and parentification and the trauma he goes through repeatedly in the show, and that he doesn’t come out clean. He comes out a goddamn mess who ends up hurting the people around him in reaction to his own pain!

There’s a reality there that’s. Almost nice, actually. Distressing to watch, but it is a fucking mess, it’s a good mess! He’s got zero healthy coping skills and a healthy relationship with say, his brother, is terrifying because it leaves him open to abandonment!

I’m not sure I’m wording this correctly. There is a way to be a good abuse victim. Take the pain, martyr yourself on it, and then, even if you have no support or idea how to, then you have to become a Good Person who never hurts anyone the way you have been learning to your entire life. Simply toss everything that shaped you out the door and emerge a saint with a tragic backstory. And Dean is not that. And that’s so fucking good. Everything that he has gone through continues to effect the way he treats the people around him, and he can’t fight the behaviors he might recognize as harmful because he also sees them as protecting him (or protecting Sam by keeping Sam with him.)

And sometimes, idk. It feels good to see a guy who didn’t heal the “right way.” Who mostly didn’t heal at all, just keeps the wound open because it’s easier that way.