#trademarked by aelin

[bookwxrmish]

Who in the Cadre™ has the biggest ass?

#Tog #throne of glass #sarah j maas #rowan whitethorn #lord lorcan lochan #fenrys moonbeam #gavriel #connall moonbeam #Vaughan tog #gyatt #the cadre #trademarked by aelin #I feel like its fenrys #but idk man

[spaceshipkat]

mmkay so the words sjm is apparently trying to trademark are: Fireheart, Sarah J Maas, Lunathion, Velaris, Feyre, SJM, Aelin, ACOTAR, Rhysand, Hunt Athalar, Throne of Glass, Illyrian, Nesta, Suriel, Bryce, and Umbra Mortis

genuinely. what the fuck.

#anti sjm

[mariaofdoranelle]

Daydreaming About You

Rowaelin Month masterlist

@rowaelinscourt

Some of you may know this as the Teacher AU, the first fic I ever wrote! This story has a soft spot in my heart, but not its writing 🤣🤣 so I got tired of complaining and rewrote it. I still feel like something’s off HAHAHAHAH but the rewrite got worth sharing.

Warnings: mature talk, but SFW

Words: 1,6k

Rowan’s ass looked absolutely delicious today.

This classroom had a privileged view of one of the fields he used to teach his P.E. classes, and as the class’ monarch for the next forty minutes or so, Aelin decided to give her students an activity in pairs and subtly enjoy the sight.

His eyes were hidden by the cap, but she knew he was watching the students play like a hawk. The best part was when he ran along with them. His legs, as big as tree trunks, deserved all the appreciation Aelin gave them, and she couldn’t even begin to describe the sinful way his uniform’s trunks hugged his ass. His sweat was beginning to make Rowan’s shirt cling to his torso, defining his big, rock-hard muscles—

A throat-clearing made her jump on her seat, not expecting any student to seek her so soon.

“Sorry to interrupt, Miss G.” Evangeline’s smirk was way too wide for Aelin’s liking.

Feigning neutrality, she took the paper from the girl’s hand. “You finished that soon?”

“Yeah, yeah.” The girl waved her off. “Is it true that Mr. Whitethorn and Mr. Salvaterre are exes?”

“What? That’s ridicu—“ Aelin stopped mid-sentence, squinting her eyes at her student. “You know I shouldn’t talk about his personal life like this, Evangeline.”

She focused on another student who just got there, standing beside his classmate. Luca was looking out the window with wide eyes, his mouth ajar before he said, “When I grow up, I want to be just like Mr. Whitethorn.”

Aelin smiled, always pleased to see how much her students admired him, when she asked, “Reliable and efficient?”

”No. Jacked.”

Her mouth opened, then she snapped it shut, too afraid of voicing the things inside her head.

Aelin didn’t like to show to the students that her and Rowan were friends, let alone that she had a massive crush on him. Still, they caught up on it. Those little terrors always did.

It was no secret that Aelin and Rowan were best friends. Or that there were speculations about them. Some students even called them Rowaelin, for Mala’s sake. Rowan never expressed his opinion on the matter, and Aelin was secretly pleased people could see herself with him that easily, even though that kind of attention wasn’t appreciated.

The limits of what’s accepted inside a workplace gets far more flexible when it’s filled with teenagers, hence why some intriguing things tend to happen from time to time. For example, when they were the talk of the week because some students spread a picture of Rowan making poorly-interpreted heart eyes at her.

Truth was, Aelin’s love life would be a lot easier if Rowan was half as interested in her as people in this school suggested.

After the last class, she found Rowan and Fenrys, a math teacher, talking near the garage.

“Hey!” Fenrys greeted with his trademark grin on. “The Vaults tonight? I need a wingman.”

“You never really need a wingman.” Aelin wrinkled her nose. “And I have a bunch of papers to grade tonight.”

“But we had so much fun last time.” Fenrys leaned against the wall, arms crossed and a teasing gleam in his eye. “What about the guy from last week?”

“What guy from last week?” Rowan cut in, frowning with a strained expression.

"No one," she dismissed him before asking Fenrys about some school gossip. Guy From Last Week didn't get further than texting, and she wasn't in the mood to put up with Rowan's protectiveness over her love life.

Dating was easy until sophomore year of college. More precisely, until The Great Gatsbeer Party, when Aelin offered herself in a platter for him and was brutally turned down. But conversation kept going, and he soon became her best friend and favorite person.

She had been in love with him for years, so what? Aelin adapted, like she always did.

Rowan and Aelin were side by side, walking towards his car in the boisterous garage, loud with the chatter of students and parents who parked to get the little ones.

"I didn't know there was a guy from last week."

Aelin gave him a pointed look. "There was a guy from last week. We texted a little, he told me Taylor Swift is overrated, I ghosted."

"Okay.'" He darted a quick glance her way. "Sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

She snorted, finding some sort of amusement in Rowan's unease. "Yes, you did."

"Wanna grade papers together, then?" He asked, changing the subject.

"Sure. And Mario Kart when we're done."

Aelin wasn't the biggest Mario Kart fan, but it became their thing over time. She was competitive enough to get a thrill when she's playing, and Rowan liked it a lot.

~~

Rowan absolutely hated Mario Kart.

He wasn't as into video games as Aelin, but he loved to watch it when she shouted in front of the screen or threatened to end his bloodline when she's losing.

She's such a sore loser, his Fireheart.

A loud moan coming from the kitchen interrupted his thoughts.

“I love you."

Rowan closed his eyes, trying to calm down his boiling blood. He could deal with the love declaration, but not the moaning.

"Aelin, stop flirting with the cake," he shouted, making sure she'd hear him from the other room.

They'd decided she'd grab something to eat while he got the video game ready, and now Rowan was just waiting for her.

He wandered around her living room, analyzing her decoration for the millionth time, but only stopped when he got to his favorite piece.

A framed pamphlet of the party they met, his housewarming gift to her a few years back. Reminiscing about that life-altering day always brought a smile to his face.

“Aelin Galathynius. Hi.” She was swaying, but found her balance again by supporting herself against the wall. Aelin’s expression was earnest when she said, “I find we’re equally hot, and now I’m yearning to sing the passionate chant of the sacred nuptial rite with you.” Rowan was stunned silent, but she still extended a hand to him before announcing, “And I’d be honored to caress your one-eyed trouser snake.”

Rowan shaked his head, chuckling at Aelin's antics in college.

In his darkest moments, Rowan cursed himself for not making any kind of romantic advance, since he did nothing but talk to her and make sure she didn't do something she'd regret the next day. But at the same time, at least he didn't become one of the many men she got bored of after a few weeks and discarded.

She was so picky with the people she got romantically involved with, letting them go for the smallest reasons such as playing Mario Kart with Waluigi, Rowan probably ruined his chances with her at least twice a day.

He sighed, leaving her bookcase to sit back on the couch. There would be no getting over her with his daily dose of Aelin's tight skirts and sweet smiles, and Rowan was too weak to keep enough distance to not be in love with her.

If Aelin wasn't interested in him sober, he had no choice but to pine after her for the rest of his life.

His attention drifted to her coffee table, noticing her kindle didn't have its case on. Again. Typical Aelin. He grabbed the case to put it back on the device—

Rowan froze when he read the book cover.

Friends with Kinky Benefits.

With an increased pulse, he looked around to make sure Aelin wasn't close and turned the kindle on, curious.

It seemed to be just a story about a girl longing to find the dom of her dreams, who ends up having sex with her guy best friend—and lots of toys—over and over again, for almost 200 pages.

Holy rutting Mala, is this what she gets off on?

Rowan skimmed through the book, electrified with a newfound line of thought.

Is this something she daydreams about? Aelin could ask him if that's the case, no need to be shy. Rowan's feelings for her were deep and romantic, yes, but he was still a man. Even when taking a purely physical step with Aelin would inevitably break his heart

"Buzzard..."

He jerked towards her, barely breathing with the awareness that he was caugh red-handed snooping in her kindle. But Aelin looked stiff, her eyes darting between him and the kindle. "What're you doing?"

Rowan relaxed a little realizing a moment later that in Aelin's head, she's in a worse position than he is.

He smirked. "I always knew your books are steamy, but I never expected them to be so kinky too."

Those words were enough to make Aelin regain her movements, and she flung herself towards him. "Give me that!"

Rowan wasn't quite sure what made her so flustered, but he flailed his arm around, preventing him from getting the kindle back.

"But I was just beginning to understand how a cock cage works!" he mock-complained.

“Fuck you!”

With that, Aelin jumped at him on the couch while Rowan tried to hide the kindle behind him. To get the thing from behind his back, she pulled his hair and that's when time slowed down.

Aelin was straddling his thighs on the couch. One hand connected with his, both holding the kindle, and the other roughly grabbing a fistful of his hair.

Rowan's heartbeat became erratic, and Aelin didn't look much better. Her lips were parted, her skin flushed. She blinked, her eyes searching for him as he desperately looked for any cue in her. A hint, a green light, an invitation.

He leaned in, giving her time to recoil. She didn't.

A tiny bead of sweat broke from her temple, running down her jaw and throat in a path Rowan longed to trace with his tongue.

He stroked her cheek with his thumb, another hint of his next step before he—

The crickets of Aelin's ringtone shattered their moment, and seeing who the caller was made Rowan's muscles tense.

He was going to kill Fenrys.

A/N: @leiawritesstories and I are probably the only people who care about this fic so far, so I sneaked an inside joke ours in there. So this A/N is a little nod to Leia. iykyk. Ily Leia.

You can get notified when I update by either turning notifications on for @backtobl4ck-fics or entering my (sometimes glitchy) tag list!!

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#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #throne of glass #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #rowaelin fanfic #throne of glass fanfic #rowaelin month

[theladyofbloodshed]

SJM decision to trademark her “stuff” is making me want to develop my own fantasy series and to make it so that anyone who wants to use words from it that came from my brain that are original; they have my expressed permission to do so.

What really annoys me is that she wants to trademark Starfall Ball. There is no Starfall Ball in her book series. It’s just Starfall. All of her stuff has elements from: Beauty and the Beast, the Hunger Games, the Triwizard Tournament, mythology of Psyche & Cupid, Cinderella, and more.

Also Starfall isn’t owned by her; GRRM used it & a school uses the name as well.

Can’t stand Disney and how much they ruined the one nice thing—the public domain. Will absolutely write a story about a mouse named Mickey who gets killed by a group of exterminators once he’s in the public domain.

Anyway thanks for bringing this to my attention. I plan on only using the library to access her books. Her books aren’t worth the pre-order anymore.

She’s trademarking them for a beauty line which is what Colleen Hoover has done. Why would I want cheaply made eyeshadow called Feyre or a body wash called be Illyrian 😭

The idea of trademarking real names/people is bizarre. The Tolkien estate will have her for Aelin.

The greed is immense. It’s not enough to dominate a genre. It’s not enough that artists are given a license to create and sell products of your characters to generate more income. It’s not enough that you release multiple copies of the same book with a different deleted scene for fans to buy.

It’s not about creating a world and people loving your stories.

It’s about how much more money can be made

#anon asks

[sabrinaacarpenters]

Aemond ™️ but also Aelin ™️ 🩷

my dumbass forgot to answer this im so sorry 😭 but honestly its an honor to hear you think aelin is my trademark, my best girl <3

#replies

[bikevindayy]

did I really buy that throne of glass game thing for the cards drawn by @merwild?? Yes, yes I did. Do I have any regrets?? Just that there are not more drawings tbh

#her aelin was always my favorite #literally that one of her with the eye of elena was my background for sooooo long #and the one of her in the tub with her back all scarred #so amazing #no regrets #really wish i couldve just bought prints of those #but stupid copyright or trademark or whatver tbe fuck

[julemmaes]

Honey - part one

Elide Lochan x Lorcan Salvaterre roommates au

A/N: today I found a list of prompts that I just l o v e d and I decided to write an Elorcan short story cause I really really love them and I just don’t write them enough, so please enjoy this fluff turned mild angst and then again fluff I guess.

masterlist

Word count: 3,073

Elide would have loved to sleep. To be able to put on the soft plaid pyjamas that Lysandra had given her for her birthday only a few days before and slip under the warm covers - the General Psychology paper sitting in front of her as that black dash at the end of the sentence flashed was her only enemy at that moment.

She huffed, closing her eyes for a moment, enjoying the soft music coming out of the computer. She didn't know the song, because the playlist she was listening to had been sent to her by Lorcan and she hadn't had time to scroll through the song titles to memorize the ones she liked best. She couldn't even hear the words, just the soothing melody, but she could guess that it was a love song.

After all, every playlist Lorcan made for her to study with consisted mainly of sappy, romantic songs. Quite the opposite from what Lorcan himself represented, with his trademark grumpy, pissed-off attitude.

She giggled wearily, sliding even lower into the pillows as she thought about what their friends would say if they found out that her roommate looked for chill, love songs in his spare time just to help her out.

Elide never had too much time on her hands, always busy between university and the two jobs she worked to support herself, and when she could actually relax she never thought about finding new music, it was far too much work and tiring. But Lorcan wasn't studying and the shifts at the toy shop or the animal shelter were very often lonely and quiet, so he had time to listen to music for hours on end without anyone interrupting him. Only later, when he would have free time and nothing to do but play video games with Aelin and Rowan, would he get on the computer and create yet another playlist with the songs he thought she would like the most.

She was about to fall asleep when she heard Lorcan's scream and several alarms going off all over the neighborhood.

"No, fuck!"

She snapped her eyes open as she sat up and was surprised to find the room shrouded in darkness, the only source of light coming from her computer. She frowned, reaching for the switch and trying to turn the light on and off. Nothing.

She closed her eyes again, banging her head against the headboard.

This was the third blackout in a week. She couldn't take any more. And she could only hope that the alarms would all be turned off within the hour, because the last time, the building next door had taken over three hours to turn off the last one, causing everyone to lose hours of sleep in the middle of the night. She was just waiting for the dogs' barking to start as well.

Her plan to go to sleep early dissolved like candyfloss in water.

"Lorcan? Everything okay?" she said loud enough for the boy to hear. When no answer came she shook her head, huffing.

Elide looked for the phone among the blankets so she could turn on the torch, but she couldn't find it anywhere. She placed the computer on the floor, getting out of bed and paying attention to where she put her feet, "Where the fuck did I leave it?" she muttered to herself, moving the stuff she had on her desk over to the chair. It wasn't even there. She looked down at the bed again and then touched the pockets of the jeans she'd promised herself she wouldn't take off until she was done studying - nada.

She was about to leave the room when the door jerked open, "Ellie?" the computer screen was pointing too low for it to give enough light for Lorcan to see her, "Are you asleep?"

"Nop," she said from across the room, "I can't find my phone."

Lorcan sighed, "Mine's dead."

"Shit." she cursed, she wasn't a fan of the dark, "Do you remember where we put the candles last time?" she asked walking tentatively towards the doorway.

Suddenly, the music stopped and the computer made the worst sound it could have made at that moment, shutting down for good. She didn't worry about the paper that she had to finish, she knew it would be there once she turned it back on.

"I can't believe it," Lorcan muttered. They were plunged into darkness. "Can you make it over here without killing yourself?"

Elide was trying not to panic. She knew there was nothing in the dark, but that stupid childish fear had never really left her and her heart was beating wildly in her chest. It wasn't anything crippling, but it certainly wasn't a pleasant feeling.

She nodded, realizing then that Lorcan couldn't see her, "Yeah, wait."

"Take my hand."

Elide walked with her arms outstretched forward, moving them to avoid hitting the wardrobe or dresser she kept near the door, but her strategy didn't seem to work as she slammed her side into the latter and knocked half the stuff on it to the floor.

She grunted in pain, bringing both hands to the sore spot, "For fuck's sake."

She heard Lorcan chuckle, "What did you hit?"

"I think the dresser," she whined, then raised her head, as if she could see him, "Where are you?"

He snorted, "I'll try to get there. Stay right where you are."

"Where do you want me to go." Elide frowned, speaking so softly that even she struggled to hear herself over all those alarms. Another chuckle was soon broken by a growl of pain, followed by a series of very colourful swear words that made the girl burst out laughing.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," continued Lorcan, who, by the sound of the various thumps, was probably hopping on one foot, "I think I stepped on one of your stupid earrings."

"Oh, god," Elide wheezed, more out of exasperation than anything else, "pray you didn't break it because I might kill you."

"It's already taken care of that. We'd only be even if I broke it," he said, cursing as he put his foot back on the ground, "Just stand there and I'll try to pick everything up."

Elide couldn't keep the smile off her lips, "I'll help you."

They hadn't realised how close they actually were, because the second she lowered herself to kneel on the ground, her head slammed into something very hard. She grunted in pain again, bringing her hands to her forehead, but burst out laughing soon after. The situation was getting ridiculous.

"Christ, Elide, are you alright? Please tell me that wasn't your head." asked Lorcan immediately, stretching his hands forward.

Elide didn't know what he had wanted to do, probably make sure her head was still in one piece, but what his hands touched certainly wasn't her head. The laughter died in her throat with a broken sound and before Lorcan realised he was palming her, several moments passed. When he too seemed to come to realisation, he let out a squeak and immediately moved his hands away.

Lorcan squeaked.

"Did you just touch my tits?" asked Elide in a whisper. At the sound Lorcan made, Elide's entire body was covered in shivers.

He cleared his throat, "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay." she grinned. Elide managed to sympathize with the darkness in that moment, almost thanking it for hiding what was sure to be the reddest face Lorcan would ever see.

"Are you okay?" he asked her again, "Sorry I didn't mean to knee you in the forehead."

"I think I might have a concussion," she said, deciding to fuck with him.

"Ha ha," he huffed, "very funny."

Elide imagined him frowning more and more, then sighed, "Okay come on, let's go find these damn candles." she pulled herself upright, one hand on her head and the other on her hip, then muttered, "And tomorrow we're going to go buy a supply of electric torches."

She heard him chuckle, "Can you follow me or do I have to hold your hand?"

Without a second thought, she reached out a hand towards where she thought his would be. Only her fingers didn't meet bare skin, but the fabric of Lorcan's sweatpants, who with a surprised yelp took a few steps backwards, "What's that? Are you trying to even the score?" he said amused.

"Please tell me it was anything but your-" the words died in her mouth. She would have rather died and groaned, bringing her hands to her face when he burst out laughing.

"If you wanted to touch all you had to do was ask, babe," he teased.

"Fuck, knock it off," she said throwing a hand forward, at a safe height, and hitting him in the chest with her fist.

He grunted, but grabbed her wrist, finally intertwining his fingers with hers, "Was that so hard?"

She said nothing, but dug her nails into his flesh and that was enough.

She dragged her feet on the floor so she wouldn't risk sticking earrings or anything else in the soles of her feet and when they were finally in the hallway, she didn't worry about where to walk because she was simply following Lorcan. The warmth of his hand clasped in hers was reassuring her greatly.

"How long do you think this will last?" she asked once they reached the kitchen.

"I honestly have no idea," he said. Elide heard the light switch being turned on and then a faint, "Ah, yeah." coming from him.

She giggled, then brought her hand to her mouth as she yawned, "I just wish I could sleep."

"Rough day?" asked Lorcan, opening the hand that was gripping hers. It took her a while to realize that he was silently asking her to let him go. She felt herself flush again for not realizing it right away, and with deep chagrin she pulled her fingers away one by one, immediately missing him.

She nodded, flinching when one of the alarms changed pace, becoming louder and more insistent. She sighed, knowing they were doomed to at least another hour like that, "Classes this morning were boring as hell, but they were important so I spent six hours on books and there was no one at the café this afternoon, which means not getting too tired and not running after every order, but it also means-"

"-no tips. Yes, I know," Lorcan finished for her. She could feel him opening drawers and rummaging through items looking for anything candle-shaped.

"Your day?" she asked, yawning once more.

She heard Lorcan halt, "God, you're exhausted." she didn't answer, so he continued, "Nothing much. They came to adopt one of the newcomers this afternoon though, and I'm pretty positive that family is perfect for that pup."

Elide could hear the smile in his voice.

Lorcan might have seemed like a mean person on the surface, callous. And indeed he was a bit of a jerk if you weren't one of the people he 'put up with', as he always said, but anyone who really knew him could confirm that he was one of the most loyal and trustworthy people ever.

The fact that he worked at an animal shelter and cared about the families to whom the puppies were entrusted or at a toy shop where Elide had often seen him help multiple parents choose the perfect gift were just two of the examples that could be given to prove such a point.

"Good," she murmured.

"Ro's going to kill me," he complained, "We were playing against a bunch of kids online and now they're going to think I quit because we suck."

Elide grinned, "But you guys do suck."

The shuffling sound stopped again, "Say that again. I dare you."

She chuckled, moving a chair and sitting down. She yawned for the third time and furrowed her brow. She didn't like yawning.

"Ellie, what the fuck," Lorcan huffed in disbelief, "help me instead of just sitting there."

She groaned, "You kneed me and I'm dead tired, I have every right to do nothing," she justified herself, "Besides, the light will be back on in a few minutes. Chill out."

"Chill out." he mimicked her voice. Then he cheered, making her gasp, "Found it!"

"Good luck finding the lighter." she whispered, crossing her arms over the table and resting her head on them.

He whistled, "How nice we are tonight," then he closed the drawers slamming them shut one by one and Elide wanted to punch him again for all the noise, "But it doesn't touch me, because it's in my pocket." and then a flame lit up the room just enough for Elide to see his face.

She scowled, "Why do you have a lighter in your pocket?"

The victorious, sly expression Lorcan had had fell away so quickly that for a second Elide thought something had happened or he'd been burned.

She was almost afraid to ask, "Have you started smoking again?"

"No." he answered too quickly.

Elide stood up, throwing her arms in the air, "Lorcan!" she opened her eyes wide, "You quit over three months ago."

He grimaced, "Not really." he spoke so softly she almost didn't hear him.

Her frown deepened, "What do you mean, 'not really'? You're such a dick," she mumbled, shaking her head.

In the meantime he had lit more candles and was arranging them on the kitchen counter, but when he spoke he looked at Elide and she saw that he was holding back from insulting her in turn. "I'm not a dick, I simply didn't tell you that I had resumed..." he trailed off, then huffed, "two weeks after I quit."

Elide opened her mouth wide, "Two we-" then exploded, "Lorcan, it's bad for you.  B-a-d." she spelled, drawing the letters in the air with her finger, "Do you understand that if you keep smoking your lungs will turn so black they'll look like ash?"

Lorcan clenched his jaw, "I know, thanks for reminding me."

Elide crossed her arms over her chest, speaking in a strained tone, "Why did you start again? Why didn't you tell me?"

He turned his back to her at that, with the excuse of arranging the candles around the kitchen better, but Elide knew it was because he didn't want to look at her face. He didn't answer.

"Where are they?"

"What?"

"The cigarettes. The packet? Where is it?" she demanded to know, walking up to him.

Lorcan turned, taking a step back when he realised she was less than a metre away from him. He frowned, "I'm not telling you."

Elide's eyes went wide, "Why?"

"Because you'd snap them all," he said in an obvious tone.

She nodded vehemently, "Yes, exactly!"

Then he sighed, "Can we just let it go?"

"Sure, if you want to let it go that you're going to die of cancer and that you've been lying to me the whole time, we can let it go," she said, biting her bottom lip and shaking her head. Then she huffed out a laugh, "You're unbelievable."

"Ellie, listen, I'm not smoking as much as I used to, we're talking about one to two cigarettes a day at most," he tried to reassure her, running a hand through his hair. She could hear it in his tone of voice that he felt guilty and embarrassed, whether it was because he had lied to her or because she had found out she couldn't tell.

With a little more light brightening up the room, Elide realised only then that he was shirtless.

Fuck, she thought. Lorcan with his shirt off was a feast for the eyes.

She quickly shifted her gaze to the floor as the light returned in a flash and she was forced to close her over-sensitive eyes. They heard the tv turn on again and the melody of the video game fill the silence.

"Thank fuck." Lorcan muttered as almost all the alarms went off. Now only the few that had to be turned off manually and the dogs continued their assault on their ears.

When Elide opened her eyes again, she cursed. There was blood on the tiles. She leaned forward, looking down at the crotch of her jeans to make sure it wasn't hers, even though she knew she wasn't on her period. "Lorcan?" she asked hesitantly, then turned her head towards him, not moving her gaze from the floor, "I think you're bleeding."

"What? Oh fuck." he chuckled. Elide looked up at him at that point and saw him leaning on the table with one hand and placing the ankle of his right foot on his left knee. He looked up at her, "Your earring stabbed me."

A laugh bubbled out of her, "I'm sorry."

Lorcan looked into her eyes and his shone, "Don't worry, I'll clean it up."

"I'll help if you want." she offered, then yawned and cursed in the middle of it.

He snorted, one corner of his mouth curled up, "Nah, go to bed. I'll take care of it."

Then she let go a whine, "Oh my god my room is going to look like a crime scene if you managed to get blood in here too."

Lorcan smiled tightly, "I'll take care of that too."

Elide nodded, admiring her friend's bare torso and arms one last time.

If Lorcan noticed, he didn't show it, and Elide was grateful for that moment of discretion, they'd had enough of awkward moments for that evening.

Warning him that she was going to bed, she went into the bathroom, undressing very slowly and slipping into her soft pyjamas. When she returned to her room, she noticed a wet spot on the floor and smiled, realising that he had started cleaning from her bedroom. She shouted a simple "goodnight" to him and without waiting for an answer slipped under the covers, ready for a deep and well-deserved night's sleep.

Just a second before she could fall asleep, the door opened slightly and she heard what could only be Lorcan place something on her bedside table. She couldn't open her eyes or bring herself to talk in that moment to ask him what the hell he was doing, but when she woke up the next morning, two packets of cigarettes and the lighter he'd used the night before sat there.

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#elorcan #tog #throne of glass #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #roommates au #elorcan roommates au #honey #elide x lorcan #tog fic #fluff #elorcan fluff

[imaginedhaven]

Flames On My Skin

a smutty Rowaelin oneshot

Link to Hot Professors Collection Masterlist

Summary:

Ever since the day she’d met Rowan Whitethorn, Aelin had been promising herself two things: that she would rise above his taunting and be the better person, and that she would stop sleeping with him.

It turned out, she was terrible at holding herself to both of those goals.

Rating: E for Explicit- NOT intended for readers under 18!

Warnings/Contents: Enemies with Benefits, Angry Sex, Semi-Public Sex, College AU where they’re both professors

This was prompted by an anonymous ask, who requested a bunch of dirty talk one-liners in an enemies with benefits scenario. I took advantage of the opportunity to visit a world I’d envisioned but never actually wrote, where Rowan and Aelin are both professors at the same university and get off on the wrong foot. (Heh.)

Enjoy!

~*~*~

Aelin stormed into her office and slammed the door behind her, tossing the folder she carried onto her desk and growling as it exploded on impact, papers flying everywhere. The department meeting had somehow gone even worse than she’d anticipated, and given that she’d prepared as though it was a battle rather than a biweekly check-in that was saying something.

Rather than gather the papers that had scattered across her desk, she allowed herself to instead flop into her chair and lean back as far as it would go. Her hands found their way into her hair and began pulling the hairpins out of her carefully braided and coiled style. Gods, she had spent so long trying to look professional, trying to be the calm and collected professor and researcher she knew she was.

As he did for most things, Rowan Whitethorn had ruined that so effortlessly.

All it had taken him was a handful of subtly pointed remarks and she had absolutely lost it and snapped at him. She didn’t know what it was about him in particular; in her field she’d certainly dealt with difficult personalities before, and it wasn’t like their research interests aligned enough for them to be forced into working together overly often. But ever since her first day in Doranelle University’s psychology department, she and Rowan had been at each other’s throats to the point where Gavriel—Professor Albareda, he wasn’t her uncle while they were working, he was the head of the department—had threatened to sit them down and make them come up with an agreement and sign it.

She could be more mature than that. She would be more mature than that. She…

Fuck. I’m so wet right now, she realized as she crossed her legs and bit her lip.

This had been the other reaction she’d had to his presence for as long as they’d been working together. When she’d first seen him, the combination of broad shoulders and platinum hair with pine-green eyes had immediately piqued her interest, and she’d been about to say something vaguely inappropriate when he’d raised a single eyebrow and asked if her blouse was stained with coffee or intentionally patterned that way.

She’d made sure his shirt was stained too, but even that awful first meeting had done nothing to diminish her interest. It didn’t take a researcher with a specialization in theories of personality to realize that probably said something about herself. Unfortunately for her, she was one, and so she chose not to dwell on it for too long.

Thankfully, while they’d both been kicked out of the meeting she thought she’d seen him head toward his own office two halls away. The others would be in the conference room for another ten minutes at least, and likely closer to twenty. She had a little time. She could take care of things with no one the wiser and escape with the shreds of her dignity intact, so she could lick her wounds and fight another day.

Decision made, she let her hand slide under her own skirt.

She hissed as her fingertips traced along the waist of the panties she’d worn that day and then lower. Gods, she really was wet. This wouldn’t take long at all. Which was a good thing, as this was her office. At work. Fuck, that shouldn’t be turning her on even more.

Suddenly the door opened and she jumped into an upright position, hands smoothing her skirt back down. She hadn’t gotten very far, and it was possible—likely, even—that whoever had come in wouldn’t be able to tell. The flush on her cheeks was easily explained by the fight, and hardly anything else was out of place.

“Well, don’t let me stop you.” Fuck, that was his voice drawling from her doorway.

Aelin glared at the intruder, and sure enough that was Whitethorn leaning against the doorframe. “What are you doing here, Buzzard?” she asked, irritation seeping into her tone.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you, all day. Especially while you were yelling at me earlier.” That last bit was said with his trademark smirk, and she hated how it made her want to melt.

“Funny,” she growled, “because I’d done such a good job of almost forgetting the last time we ran into each other.” They had wound up pressed against each other in a supply closet then, and for a dizzying moment she wasn’t sure if she wanted to do it again or forcibly eject him from her office once and for all.

“Is that so?”

She finally snapped. “What do you want, Whitethorn?”

His smirk broadened, a too-familiar light gleaming in his eyes. “I want you to touch yourself for me.”

Aelin sniffed, hoping the gesture hid the shiver she couldn’t quite suppress. “Full of ourselves today, are we?”

“You say that like you think I didn’t see what you were doing. Go on. Right where you left off.”

It was tempting, Aelin couldn’t deny that. It was a terrible idea, but it was so very tempting. Just like it had been last time, and the time before that. Still, she couldn’t resist one last snide remark. “Bold of you to assume that had anything to do with you.”

She slid forward in her chair, though, legs spreading slightly as she said the words. Whitethorn grinned and stepped fully into her office, closing and locking the door behind himself. Good, at least he had the tiniest amount of sense. “I’m assuming nothing. But I know what you were doing, and you know by now that all you have to do is tell me I’m out of line.”

It was an out, and even though she appreciated him offering it, she already knew she wouldn’t take it. As inadvisable as it was to be doing this with a colleague whose relationship with her was antagonistic at best, she just couldn’t bring herself to call it off.

If he was as conflicted as she was, it didn’t show in his face as he watched her fingertips trace up her thigh toward her core. “Gods, you’re so hot.”

The words were whispered, and rough as though they had been torn from his throat without his volition. The harsh yet soft tone in combination with his purring accent made her fingers twitch, and she gasped as they brushed over her clit through the lace of her panties. “I know,” she retorted, though she knew there was a tremble in her voice and she knew he would pick up on it.

“You’re holding back,” was his only reply. “Go on, take them off.”

“Why, so you can steal them?” She grinned as she slipped her fingers beneath the lace instead. “I would’ve thought that kind of thing was beneath you, Mr. High and Mighty.”

He grinned as well, though his eyes were fixed on the movement of her fingers. “I don’t care what you do with them. Stuff them into a drawer if you really feel a need to.” I just need to see. He wanted to say it, she could see it in his face, but something was holding him back.

Deciding to put her colleague out of his misery, she hooked her thumbs in the fabric and wiggled out of it, tossing the scrap of lace at him before settling back down on the corner of her desk and spreading her legs wide for him.

He caught the fabric easily enough, tucking it into a pocket before resuming his nonchalant stance. She knew better, though; she could see from the dilation of his pupils and the tension in his arms and hands that he was far from unaffected, and that was without the evidence that was rapidly making itself prominent below his belt. She grinned, reveling in the strange empowerment of seeing him struggle for composure. “I knew you just wanted to steal them. I better get those back.”

He rolled his eyes. “Shut up and touch yourself, Galathynius.”

She smirked at him, letting her hand rest against her upper thigh instead. “Say my name.”

Whitethorn scowled. “I did say your name.”

“You know what I mean. You want to watch me shove my fingers in this cunt, you can call me by my first name for a change.”

“Fine,” he sighed. “Shut up and touch yourself, Aelin.”

“Much better.” Anything else she could’ve said trailed off into a moan as she finally allowed her fingertips to properly circle her clit, free hand hiking her skirt up enough to grant her freedom of movement and him the view he sought.

She’d already been so worked up before this moment just from their argument, and the look in his eyes as he watched hungrily was only fanning the flames burning within her. But it wasn’t enough, even as she slipped one finger and then another into herself and curled them just the right way. A part of her knew it would never be enough, not like this.

Not when he was right there.

“I need to feel you,” she gasped, not even caring that the words left her even more exposed than her position under his heated gaze.

He lifted an eyebrow in response, even as his hands went to the buckle of his belt. “Do you, now?”

“Shut up and get in me, you arrogant buzzard,” Aelin snapped.

Whitethorn scowled. “You made me say your name, the least you could do is say mine while you’re begging me to fuck you.”

She supposed it was only fair, after what she had made him say just a few short moments ago. It was surprisingly difficult, though, to finally give voice to those few simple words she’d said all too often in her own dreams now. “Fuck me, Rowan.”

The words had an immediate impact on him, and she watched as his eyes closed briefly and his fingers fumbled over his fly. “Just for that, I’m going to fuck you until you beg me to stop.”

“Those are big words for a man who is not currently fucking me.”

The words did their job, goading him into freeing himself from his pants quickly and then just as quickly pressing into her. Her head tipped back at the pleasurable stretch of his cock filling her, laced with just the most delightful edge of pain. Fuck, he was bigger than she’d remembered, but the last thing she wanted to do was give him the satisfaction of saying it.

He could read it from her face, though, she was sure of it. He always had a way of knowing when her own mind was betraying her.

His hips stilled once he was fully seated inside of her, and she opened her mouth to snarl at him before it opened further on a moan she couldn’t hold back as his thumb found her clit. “Pity we don’t have longer.” His voice was deceptively light, but from the way his free hand clutched at her hip he was clearly struggling to hold himself back.

That was highly displeasing, but she could goad him into letting go and moving. She was sure of it. “Why’s that, so you can take twice the time to disappoint me by getting in me and doing nothing? Fucking move.”

“Careful what you wish for,” he taunted, but before she could even think to reply he moved his hand away from her clit to clutch at both of her hips as he pulled out and then slammed back into her.

Aelin gritted her teeth to keep him from getting the satisfaction of eliciting yet another moan from her. A second thrust caught her off guard, though, and she cried out and clutched at his shirt. “More,” she demanded. “Please, more—”

He thankfully cut her off by clapping a hand over her mouth before she could embarrass herself further. “Be quiet,” he hissed. “Or do you want everyone else to hear? The conference room isn’t that far from here, you know. Are you trying to get caught?”

She wasn’t sure if it was the tone of his voice, the thrill of danger, or the continued movement of his cock inside her. Gods help her, though, she trembled and came just like that, biting at his palm to hold back a whimper.

“Fuck,” he whispered before biting his own lip. His rapid thrusts slowed to a steady grind, and his free hand shifted so he could rub his thumb over her clit once more.

The movement made her whine into his hand; she was already so sensitive from having reached her peak once, and it had been earth-shattering enough that she didn’t think she’d be able to again so soon. “I can’t,” she sobbed, the sound muffled by his palm. “Please, I can’t, I—”

“You can. You can, I’m almost there.” Thank the gods, he seemed to realize they didn’t have time for him to draw another orgasm out of her. Instead he kept up the steady motion of his hips and his cock, letting his thumb stop its movements and simply rest over the oversensitive nub of flesh.

She tugged his hand away from her mouth and then surged forward, crushing their lips together in a sloppy kiss before biting his lower lip.

She couldn’t tell what it had been that pushed him over the edge; it could’ve been the kiss, the edge of pain from her teeth, or even simply the change in angle she had provided. Maybe it was a combination of all of those, or something else altogether. Whatever it was, Whitethorn hissed and his hips stilled, and soon she felt the warmth of his release.

They both clung to each other as they struggled to catch their breath, before finally separating. As he tucked himself back into his pants and adjusted his belt, Aelin stood on shaky legs and smoothed her skirt over her thighs. She would need to clean up soon, or the evidence of what they’d just done would be plain for all to see given the material of her outfit. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being the first to leave.

Besides, she wasn’t altogether certain she could walk just yet.

He seemed to have no such problems, for he strode to her door and unlocked it again as she raked fingers through her golden waves to attempt to tame them. “So,” he drawled. “Same time next week, Galathynius?”

Asshole. She snarled in reply. “Get the fuck out of my office, Whitethorn.”

He smirked, though she automatically catalogued that the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “Whatever you say.”

The door closed once more behind him with a quiet click, and Aelin sighed and reached for the bottom drawer of her desk. She fumbled blindly inside it before pulling out a small package of tissues and—

Gods damn him. She’d forgotten she hadn’t tucked her panties away after all, and he’d just walked out of her office with them still in his pocket.

It seemed she’d have to meet him again after all. Perhaps in his office, in a day or two.

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows @thegoddessofyou @mymultiversee @swankii-art-teacher @rowansfirebringer @livsdriverslicense @courtofjurdan @danibutterr @woollycat22 @rowaelinismyotp- your tag isn’t working! Sorry!

#haven writes #rowaelin #hot professors

[ssardothien]

Aww thank you, you’re such a sweet host🥺 I noticed we have a lot of books and book characters preferences in common so I had to drop a follow:)

As for me, I’m just a simple human who started reading Crescent city in April and have read 100000 books since then. Yes, Sarah j maas transformed me into a bookworm. I noticed your username has sardothien in it, and I just teared up. TOG is my favorite series on earth🤧 Wby?

- since you put the flowers on the previos ask and that was me, I’ll be picking 🌼 as my trademark:)

Ahh I love the flower as a trademark! Tog is one of the series that holds a special place in my heart, it may not be the greatest and it may have many flaws but it made me want to read and consume more stories. The characters in this series are so precious to me and that's why my username is a tribute to Celeana/Aelin's character and her journey in these books. I grew up with her and she had her part in shaping the person I am today. And I will always prefer tog over acotar. I think the story is much more complex and has a lot more interesting plot than acotar. ✨✨✨

#💕 #flower anon

[leiawritesstories]

Okay I saw “First time getting drunk” on one of the prompt lists and now I’m imagining aelin or rowan maybe having their 21st, having waited all that time without having alcohol and maybe the other one’s teasing them for being such a goody-two-shoes, and then they get drunk together and it’s either hilarious or there’s a love confession or literally anything at all, this is just where my brain headed but you can go anywhere you want to with this prompt, your ideas are always amazing

(And congrats again❤️)

HI ABBY THANK YOU SO SO MUCH ❤️❤️❤️this made me CACKLE and i hope it makes you laugh too ;)

Word count: ~1.4k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, drunken antics, *someone* is a lightweight

enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Staghorns Bar was packed by the time Aelin and Rowan walked through the old wooden doors, instantly bombarded with the barrage of blaring music, tattooed skin, and beer stench that was so familiar to Staghorns's regulars.

"Welcome to your new favorite place!" Aelin called into Rowan's ear, raising her voice over the thumping music.

He rolled his eyes and pulled her closer against him. "I already want to leave."

She laughed, pinched her best friend's cheek. "Where's the fun in that, birthday boy? You don't even have to pay for your drinks tonight."

"Fine, I'll stay," he relented, grinning at her. "If only for the free drinks."

"You've never known the pain of paying for your booze," she reminded him, snickering. Rowan's refusal to touch alcohol until he was 21 had been a longstanding joke among their friend group.

"And whose bank account has that benefitted, hmm?" He raised his split brow.

"Okay, you can stop now." She poked him in the ribs. "I got the full college experience, booze and all, and I'm still in one piece, despite your hovering, Mom." She delivered that last word with heavy sarcasm. She might be eight months older than her best friend, but he hovered like an overprotective mother hen.

He snorted. "You keep calling me that, Ae, but we all--urk!" His snarky comment was cut off by a trademark Fenrys Moonbeam Hug Attack, which he allowed for exactly two seconds before shoving the blonde off of him.

Ever enthusiastic, Fen turned his sights onto Aelin, hoisting her off her feet in a bear hug. "You brought the birthday boy!" he exclaimed.

She laughed. "It took some bribery, but yeah, he's here."

"And he's gonna get druuuuuunk!" Fen cheered in a sing-song tone of of voice that had Rowan rethinking his decisions.

"Uh-uh, nope, I know that face." Aelin linked her arm through Rowan's and tugged him towards the booth where their friends were waiting. "No running away now, birthday boy."

"I'm not getting drunk," Rowan griped.

She snorted under her breath. "Since when have you ever listened to Fen's wildness? You'll have a beer, maybe taste some liquor, take a shot and cough on it like all the new drinkers do, and go home finally knowing what alcohol tastes like."

"And I should be excited for that?" he asked, deadpan.

She smacked his broad shoulder, which did more damage to her hand than his rock-solid muscles. Damn athletes. "You'll at least be able to tell your big bad hockey boys that you've graduated from the kiddie table." They reached the booth, where far too many people were crammed into a space meant for eight people, maximum. "He's here!"

"Happy birthday!" cheers sounded from their friends, and Rowan found himself deluged by more hugs and handshakes and back slapping.

"Never thought I'd see your pansy ass in a bar," Lorcan smirked, clapping him on the back.

"Fuck off." Rowan clapped Lorcan's back harder. The two of them had been teammates since they were in middle school, and Lorcan had been trying--unsuccessfully--to get Rowan to come to hockey team parties for years.

The taller man smirked wickedly and turned around, holding out his hand. "El, baby, pass me a cup?" A plastic cup full of beer appeared in Lorcan's hand. courtesy of his girlfriend, Elide. "Here you go, Birthday Boy." He picked up how own drink and tapped it to Rowan's. "Cheers, bitch!"

Rowan caught scent of the beer and immediately wrinkled his nose. "Smells fucking awful."

Appearing at his side, Aelin laughed. "We're college students, Ro, we only buy piss-cheap beer." She raised her own glass to him and pressed her lips to his ear. "Drink up, and I just might buy you something better."

"God damn, you're a terrible influence," he muttered, teasingly. "Cheers to me, then!" Saluting the booth, he tipped the cup back and took a long drink.

And gagged. "Fucking hell!"

Aelin chugged her whole cup in one go and laughed. "Not a fan?"

"No!" He switched cups with her. "Where's my real drink?"

"Aww, look at our little boy, all grown up and wanting liquor the second he tastes his first alcohol," Lorcan crooned, dropping his arms around Aedion and Rowan's shoulders.

Rowan shook him off. "Jackass."

Aedion slid a shot glass full of clear liquid across the tabletop. "All yours, birthday boy!" His grin was just as maniacal as Aelin's when she was up to no good.

Aelin shot her cousin a sharp look. "Aedy, is that--"

"Let him drink it and we'll find out," Aedion interrupted before she could finish, making a dramatic shut up! gesture.

She rolled her eyes. "You're a terrible influence." Swiping the other shot from Aedion, she took a quick sniff--yep, tequila. "Okay Ro, ready?" He nodded and picked up his shot. "Happy birthday, bestie!" She clinked her shot with his and, in unison, they tapped their glasses on the table and threw back the shots.

Rowan coughed and wheezed as the tequila burned down his throat, his face flushing red. "What the fuck?"

The booth burst into raucous laughter as he dropped his shot glass, reached for the glass of water sitting in front of Elide, and gulped it down desperately.

Only to find that what looked like water was in fact vodka.

"Look at our little alcoholic go!" Elide cheered, taking her drink away from Rowan as he coughed and spluttered some more.

"Wuh-water," he managed to wheeze. Aelin passed him her water bottle, and he took a tentative sip to confirm it was actually water before guzzling three-fourths of the bottle in one go. It helped, but didn't do anything to clear the glassy sheen his eyes had already taken on after half a cheap beer, one shot of tequila, and a generous helping of Elide's vodka.

"Better?" Aelin took back her water bottle. "Ro? Is that better?"

He turned to face her, blinking at the way her outline was...fuzzy? He shook his head. That couldn't be right. "Huh?"

A wide, wicked grin slipped across her face. "Rowan Whitethorn, are you drunk already?"

"No, I'm not!" he protested. It came out more like "no-uhmmm-not."

She snickered. "Should've known you'd be a lightweight after all your years refusing to drink." Standing, she draped his arm around her shoulders and waved to the table. "I'll make sure the birthday boy doesn't pass out before he gets home."

Rowan swayed on his feet but let her lead him out of the bar and across the parking lot until they'd reached his beat-up old pickup. He went to step up into the passenger seat, missed the running board, and flopped forward, catching his upper body on the seat.

Aelin sighed and rubbed his back comfortingly. "C'mon, you big drunk oaf, you have to get into the truck. I can't lift you."

"I'n lif' you," he slurred, grinning a big silly grin.

"I--wha--Ro!" She gasped as he turned around and lifted her easily, setting her down in the passenger seat. "Um, you've got it backwards, Rowan. You're way too drunk to drive. Hell, you might be too drunk to think properly' I can't let you drive."

"Am not!" He stuck out his lower lip. It was adorable. "'M'thinkin' jus' fine, an' I think I love you."

Aelin froze.

Rowan blinked at her, his hazy eyes wide with concern. "Ae?"

"You...you love me?"

A soft pink blush crept up his cheeks. "Yeah."

Her lips curved into a tiny, hesitant smile. "And you had to get drunk to admit it?" He opened and closed his mouth a few times, at a loss for words. She laughed softly and caught his chin in her hands, her bringing his face close to hers. "I'm just teasing, Ro." Gently, she pressed her lips to his, tasting the lingering alcohol.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her harder, breaking away after a long, sweet moment. His bright grin settled into a dark, cold corner of Aelin's heart and warmed it right through. "Stay wi'me?" he asked, his words still slurred together.

Beaming, she hopped down from the truck, boosted him into the passenger seat, went around to climb into the driver's seat, and started up the engine. "Of course."

Despite falling asleep within the first two minutes, he held her hand the whole drive back to campus.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

#my writing #answered prompt #leia's 500 followers thing #rowaelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin au #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fanfic #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #yes aelin IS older in this fic #canon who? never heard of her

[spaceshipkat]

Regarding the SJM trademarking situation, if you look at where it says "goods and services" you'll see where it says things like hair products make up, soap etc... So she's most likely gonna do a Colleen Hoover and come out with like ACOTAR and TOG beauty products or something. So basically she's not trademarking the words for all time and no one can write a book with them. No one can simply come out and make a makeup shade called "Feyre" or something. This is very common to happen in the beauty industry. (Although I will admit there are certain words up for trademark that still have me ????)

yes i’m aware of the goods and services part! my post simply listed the words she’s trademarking and stated it’s bizarre she has chosen the words she did (bc it is). i simply find it wholly hilarious she’s going down this road. (it’s also hilarious considering the soap dick thing was years ago. were they sitting on this idea for that long, waiting until the tiktok girlies were properly obsessed?)

tbh i find it especially hilarious she wants to make, let’s say, soap labeled Suriel. as in the creature described as having “a face that looked like it had been crafted from dried, weatherworn bone, its skin either forgotten or discarded, a lipless mouth and too-long teeth held by blackened gums”. dreamy, that.

also i really wanna see how the tolkien estate handles her use of aelin. they go after photos of tolkien people use on twitter on his birthday. are they gonna be chill with sjm making money off a sindarin word she’s trademarked?

#ask #anonymous #anti sjm

[mariaofdoranelle]

Royal Rebels — Chapter 2: The Peace Attempt

Masterlist

I tried to make this the least info-dumpy I could, but we really need to know what brought Aelin to Mistward lol anyway I hope you like it!!

Warnings: angst, language, very low violence

Word count: 4,1k

O==[::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>

Stop burning your hair

Aelin dropped the dishes she was already aggressively scrubbing and hissed, “Stop infiltrating my mind.” She had a feeling their true identity would be known soon, considering the amount of times Dorian worked on his magic whenever he couldn’t smell anyone close.

“I need to practice Maeve’s powers with someone. Preferably before your hair fall off.”

Aelin groaned. “I’m just straightening it.” She couldn’t wait to go home, where her hair didn’t get frizzy because of the humidity. Where she had a protein-based diet that helped her training, even though Emrys was a miracle worker with the few resources he had. God, it had been a bit more than a month since Aelin left the castle, but she missed Phillipa’s dessert trays terribly. Her servant would be scandalized if she saw the way Aelin was keeping her clothes now.

I won’t get mad if you decide to go back, you know.

Aelin jumped on her spot and swore while clutching her chest. Dorian seemed firm, but she had known those shuffling feet for years. “If you’re using mind tricks to make me quit the mission, it’s working. This is getting beyond creepy, you’re teaching me how to block this thing first thing tomorrow.” Aelin looked around the kitchen and tried to keep her voice light when she said, “Besides, this isn’t even how it works. My mom told me it’s more like a story she tells in your head.” Dorian was frowning at a pile of cups and cleared his throat. Aelin had avoided this topic for hours, now the only thing she could do was brace herself for what was coming.

“Maybe your friends from Doranelle could give us some information on her.”

Oh, now he decided to use his voice? She could feel Dorian’s gaze on her, but decided to focus back on scrubbing the dishes. It was impossible not to hear the gossip about Rowan’s exile, but she didn’t know how much of that was true. Was he just faking this situation, like he did in Terrasen? Was he never lying about the motives that led him there? That seemed unlikely. Aelin would be lying if she said the idea of bumping into Rowan again hadn’t crossed her mind as she planned her journey along with Dorian, keeping last spring out of her mind was harder every inch she neared Doranelle.

Aelin’s thoughts were racing, but they still weren’t going anywhere. When Emrys introduced her to Rowan and Fenrys earlier that day, she just greeted the two and rushed to the vegetables. Fast and indifferent. But she was so shocked she did a terrible job cutting them, so Dorian used his phantom hands to cover for her. She ground her teeth as her whole body tensed. Trying to figure Rowan out had been too distracting last year, she couldn’t afford to go there again considering the urgency of the mission she had now.

“They’re not my friends,” she eventually acknowledged.

“You wound me, Celaena.”

Both Aelin and Dorian jerked to the source of that interruption. Fenrys had just teleported to the kitchen, since the doors were too creaky for someone to sneak up on them like he did. Fenrys Moonbeam, in all his blonde, tan, smirking glory. Just like Aelin and half of her castle remembered. But probably in different ways.

Their intruder leaned on a wooden table. He wore his trademark smirk, but there was something off about it. “I smelled something burning across the hall and figured you’d be here.”

Dorian just looked at Aelin and he didn’t need to infiltrate her mind again for her to know his thoughts. I told you so. Then he looked around the room and said, “I’m going to get my beans.”

Seeing Fenrys’s confused face when Dorian left, Aelin added, “Dorian’s addicted to anascaul beans. He brought a pack and we cook it at night.”

“I remember them. They only grow in harsh winters, right?”

“Yeah.”

Fenrys was running his thumb through a smashed corner of the table. God, that was awkward. Aelin was feeling a pang on guilt about what she said before. Despite being wary of him when they first met, she really liked Fenrys. She shouldn’t let him get caught in the crossfire between Rowan and her. Aelin took a seat and settled another beside her for Fenrys.

“How’s life as an exile?”

That owned her a small smile. “Better than I imagined. Rowan and I have plans to grovel to Galan so he can give us a job.” He sat beside her and sighed. “I don’t give a fuck about not living in Doranelle anymore. Being poor really sucks, though.”

Aelin chuckled a little, but then asked, “Do you regret doing it?”

Fenrys frowned and bit the inside of his cheek. “No. In fact, I wish I had stood up against Maeve sooner. If I could go back in time, the only thing I would change is the way I did it.”

“That was so dumb,” Aelin giggled, and then the two of them were chuckling at Fenrys’s disaster of a murder attempt.

“I thought you were loyal to her.” As much as she wanted, Aelin couldn’t bring herself to ask what she was actually aching to know. What happened in the past year? What made Rowan change his mind? As if sensing her thoughts, Fenrys was the most solemn Aelin had ever seen him when he answered her.

“I’ve always been loyal to Rowan, not Maeve.”

Aelin was scrambling her mind for an answer when Dorian came back and filled a pot with his beans. Fenrys’s eyebrows went to his hairline.

“What the hell are you doing, pretty boy?”

“Cooking my beans,” Dorian said with a shrug.

“You need to sort and rinse them first.” Fenrys grabbed the beans and spread them on a kitchen towel. “You know, I’m a farm-bred warrior. If you two need anything, just tell me.”

Aelin raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you happen to know how to make shoes? I asked Emrys where could I find a pair, but he just gave me two blocks of wood and some leather hides.”

Fenrys’s cackle boomed through the kitchen as Dorian bit his lip trying not to laugh at his friend as well. In fact, Dorian better not laugh at her. When she came to him, he had absolutely no idea what to do with the tools too.

“When I say I was raised on a farm, I actually mean a massive manor in the southeast.” Fenrys grimaced at them. “Anyway, you can buy shoes in the city, but it’s a day trip. And I don’t mean just peasantry life, you can count me in for whatever thing you’re doing, it’s not like I have a job to keep me busy. I’m sure Rowan feels the same.”

Aelin paled as her mind started racing. Fenrys gave her two kicks in the gut as he sorted beans like it was nothing. One for figuring out her intentions, another for suggesting she would ask for Rowan’s help.

Fenrys cocked his head with an amused smile. “Should I believe you came here just to enjoy the weather?”

“That was the same thing I was asking myself in Terrasen.” Aelin refused to back down.

Dorian interjected. “Please. Don’t. I’ve read about this discussion too many times in Aelin’s letters already.”

Fenrys leaned back on his chair. “Don’t worry, pretty boy. If I remember correctly, Aelin and Rowan had a truce.” Fenrys smirked at Aelin while answering Dorian.

“A peace treaty,” she said through gritted teeth, “That was very brief and ineffective.”

“Maybe we should make another peace treaty tomorrow morning.”

Every instinct Aelin had was telling her to back out, but she couldn’t. That was Dorian’s mission, not hers. When Aelin looked at her friend, he was looking back at her, uncertainty filling his eyes and she knew why. As much as Dorian didn’t want to do anything that made her uncomfortable, they were both eager to go home. Talking to people who last week were close to Maeve would be beneficial.

“I’ll be at the upstairs study tomorrow morning after breakfast. If you and Whitethorn decide to go or not, I don’t care.”

Fenrys opened his mouth, but then glanced at the table and turned back to Dorian. ”You need to discard the broken beans as well.”

Dorian wore a pinched expression, but still let Fenrys teach him how to treat his beans. Good. Aelin’s mind was still going in circles, she had less than one night to recollect herself and plan their next meeting. There would be time to hang out with her friends later.

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

Entering her arms and armor closet, the first thing she noticed was Rowan sat on a cushioned chair, unbothered by being requested to a mysterious meeting with Aelin of the Wildfire at a room filled with weapons. Aelin herself knew grown men who would be pissing their pants by now.

“Thank you for your assistance, Philippa.” Aelin had every intention to keep this conversation as private as possible. That was why, even though she had picked her most trusted servant to escort Rowan to one of the most secluded areas of the castle, Philippa had to be dismissed for this conversation.

Having no idea how this would go, so she decided to eat first.

“Won’t you at least drink the tea, Whitethorn?”

“Is it poisoned?”

Aelin gazed at him, sending a too-sweet smile. “Would you drink it if it was?”

Rowan glowered at her, but poured himself some cardamom tea.

“Are you too good for the food also?”

“I don’t like sweets.”

Aelin wrinkled her nose. “Disgusting. I should’ve seen this coming from you.”

Rowan took a deep breath. “Why am I here?”

“We’re here for a peace treaty,” she prompted while straightening her posture and picking a sword that was near her.”

He raised his eyebrows. “In here?” Looking around, he said, “Your father failed to show me this room of the Royal Armories. It’s quite impressive.”

She hoped Rowan couldn’t see how happy his comment made her. Aelin’s closet was her baby. A smile began to form on her face, but then she gripped the sword tighter, as if it would help her control her emotions. “Do you want peace or not?”

“You know, provoking me until I try to kill you is a terrible tactic. After five days of this, I’m still not sure if you want to have a reason to officially execute me, or just banish me from Terrasen.”

Aelin sighed. “Honestly, I’d be happy with either.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “That’s... Not surprising at all. Go on with the truce.”

“Treaty.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

Rowan bit his lip. “Forgive me, Milady. What does this treaty entail?”

Aelin had to glance away to her sword. This wasn’t about Rowan, she just had poor reactions to being called milady. Clearing her throat, she explained, “I’ll give my best to stay out of your way, but for every day I leave you alone, you must train at least two hours with General Ashryver and The Bane. I don’t need to mention that if you try to kill me, the peace treaty is over, right?”

Rowan pursed his lips and leaned back on his seat, crossing his arms. “Why are you doing this?”

“You and I aren’t the only ones being affected by this feud.” Which meant her family and the council were pissed ever since she burned his door.

“So you’re telling me that you’ll stop whether I agree with this or not, the only difference is that I’ll have to work now.”

“Wrong. The Treaty is the only guarantee that I’ll leave you alone.” Actually, he was right. Somehow, the people at the castle started to like Fenrys and his dull bastard friend, making her look like the paranoid one. She’d think of another tactic soon.

He raised one eyebrow at her. She narrowed her eyes at him. If this was a battle of wills, she wasn’t going to give up soon.

Rowan sighed. “What makes you think your cousin will agree to train with me?”

Aelin had to hide a snort. If only he knew. Leaning back, she answered, “Let’s say he’s an admirer of your legacy as a warrior. All of the glaring you receive from him is out of loyalty. If you agree to be at peace with me, you’re at peace with him too.”

Rowan pressed and wet his lips as he considered her offer, which made her mirror his movement and immediately focus back on the sword on her lap. Just to give him some visual privacy until he surrendered.

“Okay, then. I agree with your terms.”

They both got up from their seats. Aelin offered a handshake, but immediately regretted it as his touch sent a thrill through her body. A little breathless, she established, “The Whitethorn-Galathynius Treaty starts now.” She tried to burn his hand a little, but he used his ice magic to block her attack while sending her a knowing look and swallowing. The bastard.

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

On the next day, Aelin woke up knowing what she had to do. Eat while cooking by snatching little bits of the food here and there, and then be the first to get at the meeting. Except that, when she got to the hall, it was easy to scent a trail of pine and snow leading to the study.

When she opened the door, Rowan was sat on one of the four wooden chairs available, behind a equally wooden desk. He didn’t portray any emotion, and neither did she. In that moment, Aelin was nothing but a blank mind and a pounding heartbeat.

“I wasn’t expecting to meet you again, Celaena.”

“Didn’t you eat?” Aelin moved one chair, sitting right in front of him with crossed arms.

“I drank water.”

She rolled her eyes. By her lack of response, he demanded, “What are you doing here?” Why did he fucking care? Rowan didn’t even have a country to protect or call his anymore.

“I went to visit Galan in Varese and my friend dragged me here.” She tilted her head, studying him. “Isn’t that your standard answer, Whitethorn?” He didn’t let out a single sign of his emotions, but she knew his hands would be likely pressed into fists, hidden behind the table. He seemed to be better composed today. Rowan’s reputation made him sound pretty apathetic, but Aelin was quick to disagree on that. From the first day, it hadn’t been difficult to rile rim up.

“Is this why you called this meeting?”

Aelin took a deep breath and looked right into the green eyes that seemed to swallow her whole. “Why should I trust an old nemesis who committed treason?”

Rowan blinked, but maintained eye contact. “You shouldn’t. At least I wouldn’t.” He sounded so genuine it threw her off-balance. Again. So she blurted the first thing that crossed her mind.

“If I knew your murder attempts were so poorly executed, I wouldn’t have put up that much of a fight about your visit.” Aelin meant that as an insult, but it was easy to see Rowan’s poor reaction. At first his eyes sparkled, followed by a twitch on his facial muscles that for a millisecond tugged on the left end of his lips. If anyone had taken their eyes off him for a blink, they would miss it. But Aelin didn’t. After schooling his face into neutrality, Rowan narrowed his eyes at her. On that exact moment, both Fenrys and Dorian entered the study.

The blonde male gave them a wide grin and turned to Dorian, saying, “I told you Rowan would be here already! I know the drill sergeant like the back of my hand.” Said drill sergeant just gave an exasperated sigh.

“So, where was she in the story?” Apparently, Dorian meant business today.

Rowan tilted his head at him. “The Princess refuses to tell me anything.”

“Why would I explain to you what I’m doing here if you never deigned to tell me what the fuck you were doing in Terrasen?”

“Are we really having this discussion again?”

“Fuck you!”

Rowan’s eyes crinkle as he seemed to say with his gaze, You’d love that, wouldn’t you?

Aelin’s face flushed with embarrassment, anger, something else she wouldn’t dare think about. “Now that I think about it, I can actually kill you, you know? Maeve doesn’t give a fuck about you. In fact, now there isn’t a soul that cares about you enough to start a war,” she snapped.

“Go on, then.” Rowan’s shoulders were completely strained, and she could see the vessel on the right side on his neck that gave a slight appearance when he was angry. He explained through clenched teeth, “Don’t you want to kill me? Kill me. Now.”

Yes. She wanted to kill him. Badly. Aelin had waited an entire year for this, didn’t she? She frowned at him and rose from her chair, clutching the dagger she had hidden underneath her clothes. Taking hesitant steps towards him, she bit the inside of her cheek. He was looking at her without moving a single muscle to fight. After so long, would she kill in a study in the middle of nowhere? They should probably schedule a duel or—

Dorian decided it was a good idea to interrupt her murder and cleared his throat. “Maybe I should begin the meeting?”

Fuck, she was the worst friend ever. Dorian actually wanted something from Rowan, and she nearly killed him. One second more and he would be dead.

Then, Dorian started fill the boys in, telling them in detail about how Maeve sent his father a letter notifying her first visit in six hundred years to discuss a partnership between Doranelle and Adarlan. And how his idiot father thought it was an amazing idea. A few months later, she was very well received. The Glass Castle’s hospitality was so great she felt free to play with the King of Adarlan’s mind until she enslaved him with a blood-oath. It didn’t even take five minutes of her time. When she turned to Dorian to do the same, he shifted into a cockroach and ran for his life. Maeve tried to catch him, and even tried to murder him by stomping on his roach form, but then Dorian managed to run and reach Orynth to seek help. And there they were.

“Fuck.”

That was Fenrys’s only response as he stared into the void with a very pale face. When he clutched his stomach, Rowan got up and put his two hands on his friend’s shoulder like it was an involuntary response.

“Fenrys has an emotional stomach. I’m healing him so he won’t throw up,” he explained after receiving equally puzzled looks from Aelin and Dorian.

“Yep. That’s the only reason I keep him around.” Rowan looked at the ceiling and sighed, but it was clear he was trying to stop his cheeks from twitching.

Dorian tilted his head at Fenrys. “You’re in the army.” He wasn’t anymore, but Aelin didn’t feel like pointing it out.

“Yeah, that never helps.” Aelin hadn’t seen him like this in Terrasen, but maybe it was because things were pretty smooth over there for him. For a moment, she wondered how it must have been for him doing Hellas knows what on Maeve’s behalf.

Rowan cleared his throat. Still with his hands on Fenrys’s shoulders, he made eye contact with Dorian and asked, “How are you?”

“Determined. I didn’t do enough to protect my country. That won’t happen again.”

“Good.” Rowan looked at both Aelin and Dorian now. “What are you going to do?”

She sighed. “The council gave us six months to solve this however we like, but their main condition is that we can’t start a war.” Rowan raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. Yes, she knew it was an impossible task. She also knew she could totally do this. Peacefully. Because she was a peaceful future leader. Which made her straighten her posture and continue, “That’s why we’ll kill her very discreetly.” Doranelle couldn’t start a war against Terrasen based on a suspicion, right?

“The same way I tried to kill Maeve very discreetly?”

Aelin squinted her eyes at the buzz-kill. So typical of Rowan. She could enter the castle, kill the bitch, make it look like a robbery or maybe a very sudden deadly disease, and leave. No one would question it, the female was old as dust. Literally four thousand years old. The oldest Fae alive. Could a tree outlive her? Aelin had no idea.

Fenrys tilted his head. “So discreetly you didn’t bring Aedion? I’m surprised he didn’t hide on the ship so he could come with you.” Aelin bit her lip. Yeah. About that.

Aelin could sense the laughter Dorian was repressing, but he swallowed it and said, “Of course he came.” But then his body started trembling, and he could barely manage to complete, “With the whole Bane!” Aelin’s cheeks immediately flushed. She would kill Dorian. In his sleep. And she’d tell people it was Maeve so she could kill her to allegedly avenge the death of her best friend.

Fenrys was cackling, but managed to joke at her, “You want to discreetly kill Maeve with an entire army behind you?”

Aelin gaped, incredulous. He was not as funny as he thought he was. “Excuse you. They’re in Varese! Until I send for them or Aedion grows too impatient.” But then she smiled at their friends’s amusement. Her overbearing parents made The Bane cross the ocean because they were too worried about leaving her alone with Dorian. It was so ridiculous she started laughing with them too. Except for Rowan, of course, only stared at them, paying close attention to the conversation.

After they recomposed themselves, Dorian carried on, “And there’s the part where Aelin and I disagree. She wants to study Maeve’s defenses and strike, but I’d rather pull some strings to degenerate her reputation as a queen first, so no one will come after us if things go bad.”

Fenrys’s laughter got bitter. “Her reputation as a queen is already fucked. The peasants pay five different taxes, the city’s too violent because everyone’s starving, the nobles want to help Maeve before everything goes to shit but she won’t let them. Do you want me to keep going?” Seeing his friend was better already, Rowan took a step back and and blinked at Aelin and Dorian a few times.

“So you two came to a foreign land you’ve never visited with a massive army you don’t know what to do with and thought it would be a good idea to plan along the way?” After his angry remark, the room was deadly silent.

“I have many plans,” Aelin barked after a few moments.

“You have many ideas and absolutely no consistent plan.”

Aelin glared at him. “Do you want to tell me a few tips on how to kill the most heavily guarded monarch in the world, then? Because that worked out so well for you!” Aelin hadn’t noticed she was screaming on her feet until the room fell silent and she was being stared at by everyone. Great. She took a few steps back, leaned on the wall with crossed arms and glared at Rowan.

He only took a deep breath. “I’m sending for Sellene.” His cousin? That works side by side with Maeve? What the fuck?

“You’re kidding me.”

“I won’t act behind her back again.”

Aelin gaped. He didn’t seem to be kidding. “Did I invite you to be my killing buddy?”

Before anyone could answer her, a demi-Fae with unusually nice clothing and very deep onyx eyes entered the room, making Aelin hiss, “This room is already being used.” It was Rowan’s fault, he air shielded every room he was in, and then no one could know it was being occupied by the noise. She could sense Rowan’s shield on her skin, and in the next second the demi-Fae slammed her face-first on the wall, pinning all of her limbs. At first, Aelin froze. Her heart was pounding as she thought of what to do. No one knew her real identity, and Mistward rarely received visitors.

Without thinking much further, she barked at demi-Fae stranger, “That’s fucking rude, I just moved in here!”

Rowan was already up from his chair when he demanded, “What the fuck do you want, Lorcan?”

So considerate of him to start negotiations when Aelin’s face was already flat against the wall.

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[longsightmyth]

Myth Reads The Naming, Chapter 19

This chapter is, at fourteen pages, technically the fourth shortest chapter in The Naming, but only because two chapters have thirteen pages. This means fewer Throne of Glass chapters, for which I am thankful.

PELLINOR

So Hem has had a pretty grim life, starting, as far as he knows, with his delivery to a really terrible orphanage by a hull. One day he was called up and told that his uncle had finally gotten back from wherever and was taking him home. His ‘uncle’ wasn’t great but he wasn’t awful either unless one takes into account the fact that there were five hulls around at all times.

Said hulls eventually tried to get him to commit human sacrifice but Hem wouldn’t do it, so they locked him in a room and starved him, which was when Sharn broke into the house to steal stuff and found a Pilanel boy locked in a room. Obviously, he busted him out. I’ll talk about that in the comparison.

So they ran, and eventually the hulls caught up to them. Hem told Sharn he heard them coming earlier, but Sharn didn’t believe him, so Hem hid. The hulls tortured Sharn, who for a while said they’d sold Hem but eventually broke down and admitted that he’d run away recently, and the hulls killed everybody anyway.

Which is, of course, when Maerad and Cadvan found Hem. Since Hem mentioned that Sharn also stole some stones, Cadvan asks to see them. Hem is curiously possessive of the medallion he wears, but when Cadvan has no interest in that he forks over the stones.

They are basically mini-palantir, I guess? They let people with the corresponding partner stone hear and sometimes see what’s going on. Thankfully Maerad’s magic fire blasts blanked them out, but we know why our heroes were so easy to find earlier. Cadvan tosses the stones away and jokingly forgives Hem for almost getting them killed.

Sometimes Cadvan has a questionable sense of humor, honestly.

Anyway, then he asks to see the medallion, and Hem reluctantly lets him, at which point Cadvan goes very quiet.

“What?” demanded Maerad, after the silence had lengthened unbearably. Hem was watching them both with a mixture of bafflement and despair.

Cadvan didn’t respond at first. “Maerad,” he said at last. “Do you remember your father very well?”

Oh yeah, folks. We’re going there. Cadvan further presses, asking if Maerad remembers what Dorn looked like, whether she actually saw her brother Cai killed or not, etc. The medallion has the symbol of Pellinor on it, and it says on the back in the speech, “The House of Karn. Minelm made me.”

Cadvan starts considering both of them and their physical similarities, and he and he concludes that they could be brother and sister. Hem is the right age, and the hulls kept him around for a reason, after all.

Maerad is less cautious, declaring that Hem is definitely her brother, she can feel it, that’s why she had to go find him, etc.

“...I remember Dorn, Maerad; and Hem is unmistakably Pilanel. It would explain why the hulls were interested in him. But I might be wrong.”

“You’re not often wrong,” said Maerad with a wry smile, echoing something he had said to her long ago in Innail.

“No.” Cadvan smiled very slightly. “I am not often wrong. Mind you, when I have been wrong, I’ve been very wrong indeed.”

Sometimes Cadvan’s humor is spot on, though.

Anyway, Cadvan surmises that the hulls knew about the prophecy but grabbed the wrong kid. He tells ‘you Pellinor folk’ to nap and he’ll keep watch, since he couldn’t sleep with his headache anyway. Maerad tries and can’t, remembering Cadvan on the ground and how she’d felt about killing things after.

Darsor returns about an hour after that, Imi in tow. After Darsor imparts some encouraging words for Maerad and Cadvan, Imi comes up and apologizes for running, and Maerad tells her it was good that she did. Cadvan further assures her that there is no shame in running from what are essentially demons.

They ride some more. I know you’re shocked.

The chapter ends when they crest a hill and can see Norloch.

THRONE OF GLASS

Thirteen pages in two chapters y’all I can do this.

Apparently Cain has been getting better not because he trains every day but because he summons dark powers. He calls out a ridderak. I’m sure the ridderak has actually been mentioned before but honestly I can’t be bothered to check right now.

It was something out of an ancient god’s nightmares. Its hairless gray skin was stretched tightly across its misshapen head, displaying a gaping mouth full of black fangs.

Fangs that had ripped out and eaten Verin and Xavier’s internal organs; fangs that had feasted on their brains. Its vaguely human body sank onto its haunches, and it sl;id its long front arms across the stone floor. The stones whined under the claws. Cain raised his head and stood slowly ad the creature knelt before him and lowered its dark eyes. Submission.

I’m not saying that there was a perfectly good place to use Sarah Janet’s trademark ‘those’ instead of ‘the’ in there, but I’m not not saying it either. Also, I still don’t remember which serial killer was which in regards to Verin and Xavier. I forgot Xavier existed, so.

Anyway, Cain says it wasn’t supposed to be Celaena tonight but she’s who he’s got, so Celaena whimpers at him and draws her absolutely useless knife monstrosity, which Cain promptly relieves her of on his way out the door. Honestly, good riddance.

Celaena screams a lot and eventually runs through the secret passages, eventually making it to Elena and Gavin’s tomb, where she snags Damaris, which is a sword that becomes sort of important later. I mean, kinda. Look, I don’t know, sometimes in Kingdom of Ash Dorian uses it to find out if people are telling really obvious lies because Sarah Janet decided she needed a sword of truth up in here in the last book.

Anyway, she kills the ridderak, marking the first time Celaena has won a fight on-page and unassisted, I think, but it bit her along the way. She walks back to her rooms and then collapses, suddenly overcome by the venom. Nehemia finds her and does something and Celaena falls fully unconcious while being rocked gently by Nehemia in a bathtub.

I’m not saying you should ship it, but like. **makes Will Smith present-y hands**

Anyway, that’s the end of chapter 42. Next chapter.

Celaena wakes up to see Nehemia waiting in a chair by her bedside. It has only been three hours, but Celaena feels entirely healed. After some prodding from Nehemia, Celaena confesses her true identity (of course we (and actually Nehemia, come to think of it) are, per later book retcons, aware that it isn’t actually her true identity. More on that in the discussion). Nehemia is upset that Celaena didn’t tell her, but eventually says that Celaena is impressive because,

“...you did not let the mines harden you; you did not let it shame your soul into cruelty.”

Methinks Nehemia speaks more out of hope than actual evidence, because Celaena is a petty, cruel brat who thinks only of murder and her own self-interest at the moment who upgrades to thinking of conquering other nations ‘to spread culture’ later. Nehemia also names her ‘Elentiya’, which means ‘spirit that could not be broken.’ We all loved Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron, Sarah Janet, I get it. Possibly Nehemia is operating on the assumption that naming a thing determines the character of the thing. Sorry, Nehemia, I know you tried.

Celaena decides to tell Nehemia how she ended up as Adarlan’s Assassin when Nehemia asks, and that’s how we end the section but not the chapter.

Celaena admits next section that she didn’t tell Nehemia everything, because we must still Not Know that Celaena is actually a princess. We have to Not Know very hard at this point, because that’s just the kind of book Throne of Glass is. Also Celaena refused to tell Nehemia about what bit her, so basically everything is pointless.

Chaol needles her about dancing with Dorian, Celaena reflects that she killed the ridderak so the darkness is lifted from the castle, I despair.

Later they spar, and Chaol says he saw her reading poetry, which he thought she didn’t like. She says epic poetry is different because it’s not pretentious. As a fellow hater of poetry, I have to say that I agree, re: enjoyment but must note that it is Celaena who comes off as pretentious here. Anyway they round a corner and she sees the unnamed King of Adarlan and it’s presented as a dramatic reveal but like. You live in his castle, Celaena. He’s a public figure. He’s going to be around.

COMPARISON

Celaena remains a bratty twelve-year old confident in her abilities until faced with anything that might make her prove them. What else is new.

Well. I guess the idiot ball got bigger. The dude who summoned the monster is still out and about but sure the darkness in the castle has been defeated. That makes sense. (Celaena does nothing without being shoved into it, by the way: she has to be sent places by Elena, who she doesn’t ask for help, she has to be shown with actual glowing neon signs the monster that eats things, and then she has to be locked in the catacombs with it to fight it? Y’all. If she wants to rule a country later she should really display some initiative.)

Meanwhile Maerad and Hem/Cai get to be brother and sister, and since names are inherently tied into the narrative by way of bardic names already being important to the story, the fact that Hem will continue throughout the series to prefer being called Hem over Cai is an interesting twist on the later Celaena, who thinks that because she tells everybody to call her Aelin she’s an entirely different person.

Also of note is that both chapters contain human sacrifice, though Hem says that he wouldn’t kill the other boy with so little fanfare that it rounds the corner into having us go duh. I mean that in a good way: it is presented as so much the common-sense choice that it lets us the readers understand a core component of Hem. He can’t be evil. He refuses to be evil. As a child who grew up hungry and starved, he still refused to kill somebody despite the threat and implementation of starvation. The narrative doesn’t wax rhapsodic about it, either. It’s just who Hem is.

Similarly, no one waxes rhapsodic about Sharn, though I might here for a moment. Here’s a guy who broke into a lord’s house to steal valuables, found a starved little boy in a room, and said, ‘okay there is no way I’m leaving this kid here’ and stole him from evil magicians. Pellinor has a mindset and purpose of execution similar to Lord of the Rings: small, kind actions eventually cascade into larger, world-saving actions. Sometimes small good deeds are all you can do, but that’s okay. Small good deeds lead to more small good deeds and eventually the scales tip.

That only works, though, when small good deeds are the only good deeds available to you. Celaena giving Kaltain a cloak in Crown of Midnight, for instance, doesn’t tip the scales much, because Celaena is capable of so much more, and has shown it by faking the deaths of all of the (male, for the record) targets given to her by the king and helping them make their escape. That she chooses to only give Kaltain a cloak, when she is completely aware that Kaltain is regularly raped by both the guards and Perrington, when Kaltain has been consistently wronged by the same people as Celaena, is more of an example of performative compassion instead of, like, actual help. I’m just saying. Further, the whole reverent ‘she gave Ansel one extra minute before shooting at her’ is nonsense. She should have just not shot at Ansel. That would have been an act of compassion. Nobody was holding her to it. There wasn’t any sort of magical compulsion. Celaena performs the most tepid of merciful acts, and the book portrays them as Glorious Acts of Defiance and everyone is in awe over her forgiving nature. She says she doesn’t believe in slavery but never bothers to condemn it in any stronger language. I’m tired of it. I’ve been tired of it. Comparing it to The Books of Pellinor just makes me more tired of it.

In short, I despair.

STATS

Throne of Glass:

Pages: 13

Fragments: 14

Em-Dashes: 34

Ellipses: 7

Pellinor:

Pages: 14

Fragments: 6

Em-Dashes: 4

Ellipses: 12

#myth reads the naming #myth reads the books of Pellinor #myth rags on throne of glass #myth talks

[leiawritesstories]

Rowan and Aelin make a pact to get married if they are both still single by 35. Now they’re 35 and get married to their best friend who they never previously saw in a romantic light

OKAY I LOVE THIS SO MUCH thank you for the prompt!!

word count: 837

warnings: idiots in love

enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey." Rowan whispered into Aelin's ear as she slipped her hand into his, flashing her a conspiratorial grin. "Am I the only one who doesn't feel like this is real?"

Aelin snickered. "Yeah no, I'm still wondering if this is actually a fever dream."

The man at her side muffled a snort of laughter himself. "Pay attention, Ace, aren't we supposed to be all giddy on our wedding day?"

She pinched his side in retaliation, settling her grin as they walked out of the building, wedding license in hand. "Once it settles in that I'm married, yeah."

He laughed. "Well, maybe it'll settle in once everyone's had a few toasts drunk, hmm?"

"I'll drink to that."

~

Fifteen years ago, Aelin Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn had made a pact.

They may or may not have been slightly tipsy at the time.

After years of being best friends, standing at each other's sides through thick and thin and awful awful exes, they'd decided to be single and happy for the near future, until Aelin had flopped down onto the couch and complained that being single didn't guarantee her a way to get laid.

Rowan nearly choked on his beer. "Shit, Ace! Y'know bars and clubs and Tinder exist, yeah?"

"Sure, if you want to get disappointed," she scoffed. "Ugh, Ro, I just wanna know I'd have someone to make me cum!"

The first thing that sprang to his mind was incredibly inappropriate, so he did not let it come out his mouth. "Wanna make a deal?"

"What is this, Wheel of Fortune?" She smirked. "What's your idea?"

"If we're both single at 35, we should get married." He shrugged at her raised eyebrows. "What? People make these deals all the time, it's just a way of knowing you'll always have someone to, well, make you cum."

She tipped her head sideways, considering. "You know what, yeah. I agree."

"Really?"

"Hell yeah." She raised her bottle to him. "If we're single at 35, we're getting married." And they clinked bottles and drank on it, neither of them really believing that they'd both be single at 35.

Whether either of them nurtured a secret hope that they would fall in love with each other before that day came to pass, no one could say.

~

"So whose place are we gonna move into?" Rowan asked as he parked in front of his townhouse, opening the door for Aelin. "Since we're married now, ya know."

"I like my house better," she grinned. "Husband. Gods, it's weird to say that. In a good way," she hastened to add, seeing the way his brows knotted. "A very good way."

"Good," he chuckled, "'cause I don't want our marriage to be weird, wife."

Gods, the way that word sounded on his tongue made her feel...strange. Good strange.

Like she might be secretly in love with him strange.

She hid all those traitorous feelings under her trademark sass. "You gonna carry me through the doorway, darling husband?"

"If you wish, dear wife," he said grandly, sweeping her into his arms and carrying her inside, closing the door behind them before he set her back onto her feet.

"Such a gentleman," she laughed.

"Only the best for my wife." He winked. "Speaking of the best...fancy the best night of your life?"

Her brain froze. "I--what?!"

The softest of flushes graced his cheekbones. "Well--uh--isn't it traditional to, uh, consummate a marriage?" The poor flustered man was full-on blushing by the end of his stammered sentence. Years and years of sexual experience, and he still got tongue-tied mentioning anything even remotely sexual around her.

Because he was head over heels in love with her, and she didn't even suspect it.

"Oh, husband," Aelin crooned, the gleam in her turquoise eyes sending ripples of heat pulsing through his body, "if I'd have known you intended to bed me, I'd have worn my better lingerie."

Rowan took a step towards her. Another. Another, drawing so close that only a breath separated them, only a bare fraction of air that was rapidly growing thicker with heat and tension and twenty years of unspoken words. "You don't need lingerie to be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he whispered.

"Ro," she breathed, something deep and unnamed breaking through her gaze. "Are you--"

He swallowed her question with a tentative kiss, his lips soft and warm and inviting and gods, just everything she'd ever dreamed of, his kiss an answer to her lingering question. Yes. Always yes.

"Aelin," he whispered against the delicate skin of her neck, his big hands pressing her into him, every curve of her melding so seamlessly, so perfectly, to every hard plane of him. "Are you--"

She answered his question with her own kiss, her hands freeing the zipper of the dress she'd worn, letting the fabric pool on the floor. "Yes," she murmured, reveling in the way his eyes traced her body, a love she hadn't known she could feel bursting up within her.

Always yes.

Always him.

~~~

TAGS:

@charlizeed

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@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@nerdperson524

@fireheartwhitethorn4ever

@morganofthewildfire

@rowanaelinn

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#my writing #answered prompt #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #fluff #mostly fluff hehe #idiots in love #quick drabble #mild spice

[leiawritesstories]

My Favorite(s)

Rowaelin Thanksvember 2022, November 8: All-time Favorite Smut/Fluff Oneshots

Love Left Behind by @morganofthewildfire

Oh my gosh, this fic. This fic. 17k words of Morgan's trademark gorgeous, evocative, heart-wrenching writing. Aelin in this AU is just so beautifully written, so complex and layered and I will never shut up about how much I love love love reading Famous!Aelin especially when Morgan writes her. 😍 The whole story is just stunning, even as my heart gets ripped out and stomped on and finally bandaged back up at the end. Morgan, this fic is a masterpiece and it is one thousand million percent one of my very very favorite fics ❤️❤️

Firefly by @writtenonreceipts

🥺😍🥺😍🥺😍🥺😍 yeah that's pretty much how I look each and every time I read and reread this beauty. It's so soft and lovely and I just love Rowaelin's relationship throughout the whole story, they are so close and soft with each other. And Dad Rowan just always hits me right in the emotions--especially when it's first-time expecting Dad Rowan. I will read and reread this fic until kingdom come ❤️❤️

#rowaelin thanksvember 2022 #rowaelin thanksvember #fic rec #rowaelin