Greengzass - Helo - Tumblr Blog
Jude: *bleeding out*
Madoc: Don’t die Jude
Jude: Don’t tell me what to do
Aelin: You don’t see me saying anything crazy about Chaol and Dorian's weird little relationship
Chaol and Dorian, in unison: She's just jealous.
Celaena: *Kisses Rowan's cheek*
Rowan: What was that?
Celaena: Affection.
Rowan: Disgusting Rowan: Do it again.
Helion- The sun personified
I finally finished this picture! I wanted to bring about colors of cobalt, amethyst and reds. I love the idea that he's painted in gold and has flowing luxurious clothes that have intricate designs and shimmer in the sunlight. This is just my depiction of him!
Throne of Glass family tree 💫
Forever thinking about when Rowan said
Even when this world is a forgotten whisper of dust between the stars, I will love you
How it feels to be a Chaol Westfall fan (YOU CAN NEVER MAKE ME HATE HIM):
Throne Of Glass characters & couples 🤍 Artist: inkfaeart
Living under the stairs
Yrene Towers 🤝 Harry Potter
My current favourite headcanon is that Astoria liked to paint, so she'd paint pretty things on Draco's dark mark to make him feel better about it
Btw i picked flowers that symbolise redemption/rebirth sorry not sorry
In the lantern light, the silver locket shimmered and danced as she lifted it up between her fingers, eyes wide. "I can't take this."
"You'd better," he said as she lowered the oval locket into her palm to examine it. "I had your initials carved onto it."
Indeed, she was already tracing the swirling letters he'd asked the jeweler in Antica to
engrave on the front. She turned it over to the back--
Yrene put a hand to her throat, right over that scar.
"Mountains. And seas," she whispered.
"So you never forget that you climbed them and crossed them. That you--only you--got yourself here."
She let out a small, soft laugh--a sound of pure joy. He couldn't let himself identify the other sound within it.
"I bought it," Chaol clarified instead, "so you could keep whatever it is you always carry in your pocket inside. So you don't have to keep moving it from dress to dress. Whatever it is."
Surprise lighted her eyes. "You know?"
"I don't know what it is, but I see you holding something in there all the time."
He'd calculated that it was small, and based the locket's size upon it. He'd never seen an indentation or weight in her pockets to suggest its bulk, and had studied other objects she'd placed within there while working on him--papers, vials--against the utter flatness of it.
Perhaps it was a lock of hair, some small stone-
"It's nothing as fine as a party in the desert--"
"No one has given me a gift since I was eleven."
Since her mother.
"A birthday gift, I mean," she clarified. "I ..."
She slid the locket's fine silver chain over her head, the links catching in the stray, luscious curls. He watched her lift the mass of her hair over the chain, setting it dangling down to the edge of her breasts. Against the honey-brown of her skin, the locket was like quicksilver. She traced her slim fingers over the engraved surface.
Chaol's chest tightened as she lifted her head, and he found silver lining her eyes.
"Thank you," she said softly.
He shrugged, unable to come up with a response.
Yrene only walked over, and he braced himself, readied himself, as her hands cupped his face.
As she stared into his eyes.
"I am glad," she whispered, "that you do not love that queen. Or Nesryn."
His heart thundered through every inch of him.
Yrene rose onto her toes and pressed a kiss, light as a caress, to his mouth. Never breaking his stare.
He read the unspoken words there. He wondered if she read the ones not voiced by him, either.
"I will cherish it always," Yrene said, and he knew she wasn't talking about the locket. Not as she lowered a hand from his face to his chest. Atop his raging heart. "No matter what may befall the world." Another feather light kiss.
"No matter the oceans, or mountains, or forests in the way.
"I will cherish it always,"
"No matter what may befall the world."
"No matter the oceans, or mountains, or forests in the way."
He realized that here, amongst the dunes and stars … Here, in the heart of a foreign land … Here, with her, he was home.
Vicious at the Laundry
Victor at the hotel laundromat, waiting for somebody to leave so he can steal clothes for Sydney:
[The next day]: “Sydney, sandwiched between them, in blue leggings and a large red coat. These clothes had appeared this morning, and still felt dryer-warm. They even fit a little better.”
“Yrene laughed, and the sound of… Beautiful as the sound was, it was nothing like the smile on her face. The delight. He’s never seen a face so lovely.”