#and rowan is surprised

[koitosoup]

[oc] First Waltz

[roadstostray]

karlach baldurs gate 3 save me

save me karlach baldurs gate 3

[thirdiife]

treebark doodle dump cause theyre the only thing i can process

[leiawritesstories]

A Memory of Your Love

Rowaelin Month, Day 19: Telling the kids about their tattoos

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: none, it's sappy melty fluffy goodness (i swear)

Enjoy!

@rowaelinscourt

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

“Mama.” The small voice was accompanied by a series of rapid knocks on Aelin’s partially-open office door. “Are you very busy, Mama? Da said you’d be busy.” 

Aelin set down her quill and turned away from her desk, finding her second child, her son, poking his head through the crack in her door. “No, my boy, I’m not busy.” She stood, digging one hand into the small of her back–gods, sitting down for too long was terrible for her spine–walked over, and opened the door. “Come in, Bran. What do you need?” 

Bran–Prince Brannon Whitethorn Galathynius–shuffled into the office, uncharacteristically quiet and shy. Normally, he was the most vivacious of the royal children, always with a laugh on his lips and a prank brewing in his mischievous mind. He got that from his mother. “I want to practice with the knives,” he said slowly, haltingly. 

Aelin nodded. “And do you need someone to go with you?”

Sheepishly, he nodded. “Yeah. Da said I can’t be there alone, not yet.” 

“Not yet,” she agreed. “When you’re a little more comfortable with the blade work, or maybe when you’re a little older, then you can go alone. Just not yet.” 

He frowned. “Why not? All the other boys my age go out into the yard by themselves.” 

“Ah, but they’re with each other, no?” 

“Uh…yeeeeees?” 

“That’s right, my son.” Aelin cracked a grin at her son’s slight flush. “You’re welcome to train with them, you know.” 

“Don’t want to,” he mumbled. “I’m not good enough.” 

“Now that’s just horseshit,” she scoffed. 

In her mind, Rowan flinched. Fireheart!

What? she snarked. You know he’s heard worse from those hulking brutes you call friends. “Bran, you are good enough. They aren’t going to make fun of you.” She ruffled his hair affectionately. “Yes, I’ll go practice with you.” She winked. “Anything to sneak away from the boring paperwork.”

That made him snicker. “Are you going to make Da do the paperwork, then?” 

“Maybe.” She led him out of her office and down towards the training yard. “It’s good for him to pretend like he has responsibilities every once in a while.” 

I heard that.

I know. She blew her grumpy buzzard an invisible kiss. 

Bran was at the door to the training yard. “Come on, Mama!”

“Just a minute,” she laughed. “I can’t train in this dress, it’s too frilly.” She ducked into a side room and changed into a loose, comfortable tunic and pants. “All right, I’m ready.”

“Come on!” Bran pushed open the door and bounded out into the training yard, running for the fenced-off area used for knifeplay. “I beat you, Mama!” 

“You did,” she laughed, catching up with him. “I must be getting old.” 

~

For a good hour, she sparred against her son, working with him on his form and his technique, especially taking a chunk of time to show him how to throw a knife. Bran had been wanting to learn that skill for a while, and she decided he was ready, no matter what his overprotective father and uncles thought. 

Bran drew a deep breath, locked his turquoise eyes on the target, exhaled, and released the knife. It sliced through the air and embedded itself in the ring just outside the bulls-eye. “I did it!” he screeched, jumping up and down in thrilled excitement. “I did it, Mama!” 

“You certainly did,” she praised. “I don’t think I could have done any better.” 

He beamed. “Dare you, Mama!” 

“Oh do you, now?” Challenge sparked in her bright eyes. “Stand back, B. I don’t want to hurt you.” She took her mark on the chalked line, inhaled, locked her eyes on her target, tipped her arm back, and launched her blade. Her tunic slipped, partially exposing her shoulder–perils of wearing her mate’s clothing rather than her own–but her knife flew straight down its intended path and buried itself right next to Bran’s knife with a thunk. “How’s that, Your Highness?” she teased. 

Bran sprinted over to check the target and came back with the biggest, brightest smile plastered all over his face. “Mine was closer!” 

“No!” Aelin exclaimed in contrived shock. “I really am losing my touch!” She grinned down at her son. “Congratulations, Bran, you’ve just out-thrown your queen.” 

His attention flicked from the target to his mother and back again, a question creasing his forehead. 

She knelt and met his eye level. “What is it, my son?” 

“Your tattoo,” he said, unexpectedly. “I know you have one, I just…it looks like wings. Why is it wings, Mama? Shouldn’t it be fire?” 

Aelin was quiet, thinking through how much to say. I can’t just brush him off.

No. We knew we would have to tell them eventually.

Right. Just…how much?

As much as you want. Rowan sent reassurance pulsing down the bond. We can talk to him and Lana later tonight, both of us.

I’d like that. With Rowan’s strength at her back, she took Bran’s hands. “Da did it for me.” 

His childish face lit up with interest and wonder. “When?” 

“Before…” She trailed off, her gaze going distant for a moment. “Before we settled. Before you and Lana were even thoughts in our minds.” She noticed his furrowed brow, and she squeezed his hands in comfort. “Da and I are going to tell you and your sister about it later tonight, because you’re old enough and you deserve to know more of our story. I’m not dismissing you, I promise; you just need to wait for a little longer, okay?” 

Slowly, he nodded. “Okay,” he replied. “Can I ask you one more thing?” 

“Of course.” 

“Did it hurt?” 

“Some,” she said, honestly. “But your father was with me, and that made it easier.” 

~

Rowan wore a sleeveless shirt to dinner that night, the soft gray linen exposing the defined grooves of his muscles and the full breadth of the script inked down his arm. Aelin chose a dress that dipped low in the back, low enough to display the wings unfurled across her shoulder blades. She frowned as she laced the silken material up the side–it was almost at the point where she couldn’t wear it in public, else it would reveal too much. Just to be sure, she turned to the side and checked her profile, relieved when her reflection showed that the skirt still billowed out high enough to conceal the swelling of her abdomen. 

Stunning. Her husband padded up behind her on near-silent feet, slid his powerful arms tenderly around her waist. His tattooed hand splayed over her stomach. “How much longer?” 

“Another few weeks before we tell the children.” She laid her hand over his. “At least a month before anyone else even suspects.” Lest we…lose them.

“Of course.” Rowan dipped his head and brushed a whisper of a kiss across her pulse point. I love you, he murmured into her soul. 

Aelin melted into him. As I love you. 

Lana and Bran were full of anticipation and eager chatter at dinner, both children more than willing to ramble on about their days. Bran seemed to be back to his usual mischievous self, busily flicking tiny crumbs and a pea or two at his sister when he thought nobody was watching. Lana returned the favor by gradually increasing the heat of her brother’s chair, silverware, and even clothes, making him squirm in mild discomfort and drop his fork with a yelp when he picked it up and it nearly burned him. 

Unsurprisingly, though, when dinner was over and they moved into the small, cozy, private living room reserved exclusively for the family, both Lana and Bran went quiet, settling down onto the small sofa and watching their parents expectantly. 

Aelin settled into her chair and spoke first. “So you want to know about our tattoos.” 

“Mhmm.” Lana nodded. “Well, I know about Father’s. Mostly.” 

“Do you?” Rowan wore a half-grin. 

“Uncle Lorcan told me it’s a record of your life and a memory of your love.” 

“Uncle Lorcan talks too damn much.” 

Aelin snickered. “Admit it, buzzard, that was a very lovely description.” 

Rowan grumbled. “Fine. Lorcan can be civil once in a while.” He nodded. “Yes, that’s the most basic description of my tattoos.” 

“You did them yourself, right?” Bran asked. 

“Mostly. Gavriel helped, a little.” 

Bran tilted his head. “And you did Mama’s?” 

“He did,” Aelin confirmed. “Both times.” 

“Both times?” Lana and Bran chorused, wearing twin expressions of disbelief. 

“Both times.” Aelin shared a long, laden look with Rowan. “This set–” she turned around and let her children see the full expanse of the ink scripted across her back–“was done just before we kicked the shit out of the Valg once and for all.” 

“Language,” Rowan sighed, teasingly. 

Aelin huffed a laugh. “Says you. Like your father’s, my tattoos are my story. All of it–who I once was, who I became, who I am now.” She whispered under her breath, and two of the symbols glowed blue for a few seconds. “Those are your names, my loves, in the Old Language.” 

“That’s us?” Lana breathed, both awe and tears clogging her words. 

“That’s you,” Aelin murmured. “Your idiot father also wrote a whole entire spell into my tattoo–didn’t even think to tell me, oh no–in yet another language.” 

“It was a protective measure!” Rowan protested. “And it worked, didn’t it?” 

“Oh, all right, it did.” She laced her fingers with his. “Your father is boring; all his tattoos are just Old Language.” 

“Can you read them?” Bran asked. 

“I can.” A yearning smile curved Rowan’s lips. “It’s been a very long time since I spoke the Old Language, but I can read it, yes.” 

“What’s this one?” Lana pointed to a sequence of characters on Rowan’s bicep. “It repeats a lot. There, and on your forearm, and on your neck, too.” The firstborn Whitethorn Galathynius always had been perceptive. 

“It says Fireheart,” Rowan murmured. 

A crooked little smile lit Lana’s face. “That’s…extremely sappy of you, Father. Aren’t you supposed to be the hardened old warrior?” 

Aelin burst into laughter. “Oh, my daughter,” she wheezed. “Never change, Lana love.” 

“I’m trying very hard to be unimpressed,” Rowan intoned, his lips twitching with the effort of holding back his merriment. 

Lana giggled. “We’re all thinking it.” 

Rowan laughed. “I suppose we all are.” 

Bran’s smaller hands touched the ink spiraling up his father’s arm. “When I grow up, I want tattoos too!” he declared. 

Aelin and Rowan shared a very long look. 

“Maybe you will have tattoos,” Aelin told her son, running her thumb over his knuckles. “If you do, know that you carry the weight of every name and event written into your skin.”

“Even the ones that hurt?” 

“Especially those ones.” Aelin gathered her children close. “It is the weight of the people we have loved and lost that guide us through life. They are always with us, even when they fade.”

[rainbowhighfan]

What is Rainbow world?

[the-converse-high-top]

PIHLAJA 🫵🏽🫵🏽🫵🏽

🤨

😯

okei, nau ai sii!

[anonyhun]

Ro would know Batman was Terry in five seconds flat if he ever encountered them outside of "Work"

[shadowhandss60]

“You do pay attention." He smirked just before she spun, kicking him in the chest, sending him to the floor. "But you have a lot to learn."

He grunted as he sat up, cocking his head at her and in a second, he was gone. She felt his presence behind her, hand gripping her waist to keep her from turning, his fingertips slipping under the hem of her top.

"Are you offering to teach me?" He whispered in her ear; the sensation made her body come alive, and she almost didn't notice the blade pressed to her chin, which had been strapped to her thigh.

"I see the wolf has been teaching you new tricks, though I don't think that move is fair." She purred.

[dont-look-me-in-the-eye]

HAHAHA FUCK THIS BITCH

@nerves-nebula

[tallbluelady]

hide: What does your OC hide? Why do they hide it?

Rowan hides her power when she can. Don't attack me, I have nothing to destroy you with. Once there is aggressive intention, she'll fight back, but she's not going to show her hand until she's defending someone. She won't admit it, but the look of surprise on her foe's face when she knocks them down is one of Rowan's favorite things about fighting.

Thanks for the ask!

[sollucets]

for the record i Did predict this

[sweetk1lls]

I knew you would return.

[mishy-mashy]

Just really like Groovy Gumlet

Other than the fact his name is that and he's cute with an outie, he just cares a lot and is actually very personable and isn't so prideful to not admit when he needs help

In the EX Novel 4, he got angry with the knights because he thought they killed Balleroy, and wasn't afraid to admit Balleroy was one of his friends. He, along the lines of this, goes "F*** you, you're worried for your friend? How do you think I feel when you killed one of mine?!"

He befriended Moguro after accidentally thinking he was an inanimate hunk of metal, and doesn't mind his mechanical way of talk ("Groovy, run, outmatched." for example, to say they should run, and he probably won't misunderstand it)

In arc 8, when he's cornered and about to die from not eating or drinking anything for days, one of his worries is if any of his subordinates survived. He hoped it'd be the case. And this was in the middle of being surrounded by a bunch of zombies, so it lagged his reaction

"At the very least, it'd be nice if some of his subordinates survived." Or something along those lines

And right before that, he thought of his second-in-command. I was thinking that Groovy feels lonely without anyone, fending for himself like this. Even if his circumstances suck, it'd be better if he had someone on his side

Plus, he's a hyena demihuman. Hyenas are extremely social animals, and have complex hierarchies, so him being a general with his own army is just perfect for him

He's not afraid of stating his opinions of people, like when he said Balleroy was a bit flashy and too friendly, but still a good guy

And he goes to Chisha for help in dealing with Cecilus, just to complain and scream on his couch

And he's an optimist! He hopes Chisha can control Cecilus, he hopes he and Moguro can handle Reinhard if they get some help, the entire time he's being chased, he's hoping for other things like a breather and food.. that sounds more like desperation, but it's also narrated as a

"small breather would be somewhat helpful.

Having faith in that, he ran, ran, and ran――"

He's clinging to nice little things, even as he's being chased, because wouldn't that be nice to have?

When he smelled living people, he really ran in shouting and hoping for their help to fend off the zombies together too. But before he did, he was afraid of dragging them into his problems, because even in his pushed-to-the-brink state, he didn't want to endanger anyone.

He didn't think of using them as a diversion or anything. He's actually really nice.

If the life he smelled could fight, he'd hope for assistance, and if not, maybe he could get something in his system with the smallest reprieve. He didn't think that the people would be dangerous to him, or attack him immediately; which they did.

And when he just got two drunkards, he got angry because why are they doing this? Why are they the only ones alive now, and they're like this? But angry as he was, and exhausted, he still only passed out when in the company of others. Maybe it was from the long strain, or he finally relaxed even a little bit to be around others (even if those "others" contemplated killing him)

[leiawritesstories]

throne of glass twitter/instagram/influencers fic? love your work!!💞

🥰🥰🥰 awwwww thank you!! i LOVE this concept omg let's see what the brain decides to crank out...

word count: ~1k

warnings: none?

enjoy!!

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

Aelin threw her hands into the air in exasperation. "What do you mean, my numbers are dropping? I've been watching the charts myself, I'm not an idiot." She quieted for a moment, listening to the person on the other end of the call. "Yes, Lys, I know my content hasn't changed in a while. The hell do you want me to do about that?"

"Shake shit up, Ae," Lysandra returned. The sharp-tongued woman had been Aelin's manager for almost four years now, and while Aelin was indebted to Lys's expertise, she wasn't afraid to call her out on what she gracefully called her "buzzword bullshit."

"And just what brilliant thing are you going to suggest that I do to 'shake shit up,' my dear and very wise manager?" Aelin drawled.

Lys snorted a laugh. "I think it's time for a boyfriend reveal."

"Absolutely not. You know how Rowan feels about being on my social media. I'm not going to violate his trust like that."

"I'm not saying it has to be a full reveal," Lys clarified. "I just think you should consider posting some kind of reveal that you, the famously single power woman who only loves her book boyfriends, has a special someone in her life."

Aelin considered her manager's idea. "That's....well, that's not as terrible as some of your ideas have been." She chuckled at Lys's playful scoff. "I'll talk to Rowan, see what he thinks. Bye!" She waited for Lys to say goodbye and then ended the call and flung her phone across the room, landing it on her plush, pale grey sofa.

Rowan strolled out from the office, where he'd probably been watching her animated phone call through the glass doors. "What's wrong, love?"

"Fuckin' everything," she grumbled.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest in comfort. "What specifically has you all frustrated, Ae?"

"You're too perceptive," she huffed, but a half smile curled her lips. "I... Lys told me my engagement numbers are flattening, and I love my audience and don't want them to be bored with me." She blew out a sigh. "Lys thinks I should do some kind of relationship reveal, because that shit spikes numbers like crazy."

"Do you think it's a good idea?" Rowan sat down on the couch, tugging Aelin with him.

"As an idea? Yeah, it's a great idea, and it's worked for literally every other influencer who's every posted about their relationships." She twisted the ring around her left middle finger. "As an idea for me? I'm not so sure. I won't make you do anything you're not interested in doing, and I know how you feel about being on my pages."

"What if I agreed?"

Aelin's jaw dropped. She pulled away from Rowan's side and faced him, her stunned gaze scanning his face for any sign that this was some kind of prank. "What?!"

He chuckled. "Let me explain. Yes, I heard you and Lys on the phone, but you knew that." She laughed softly and nodded. "Here's the thing. I don't want my image to be splashed all over the internet. However, if you're willing to agree, I'm okay with little pieces of us being out there."

She raised a brow. "Can you explain what you mean by 'little pieces of us?'"

"Like this." He grabbed her phone, swiped to the camera, and took a photo of their shoes lined up by the front door. "Little things--bits of our home but definitely not all of it, things like a close-up of our hands or matching outfits or something. Basically, I don't want my whole self in photos that you post, but I'm okay with the world knowing that you're mine."

"So possessive," she teased. She settled back down onto the couch, took her phone from his hand, opened to her notes app, and started typing ideas. "I'm honestly a little uncertain that I'm not dreaming, but yes, I agree to your terms."

"So formal," he teased, poking her in the side.

She yelped and scooted away from his wicked fingers. "Ro!" He grinned and held up his hands in surrender, and she relaxed. "You're absolutely sure about this?"

"I am." He laced his tattooed fingers with her ringed ones, stroking his callused thumb over her knuckles. "Call me a caveman all you want, but I'm ready to tell the world you're mine."

"Caveman," she snickered. Swiftly, almost without thinking, she picked up her phone, swiped to the camera, and captured a few different photos of her and Rowan's intertwined fingers, the aesthetically pleasing contrast of his tan, tattooed skin against her pale, silver-ringed fingers and manicured nails. Humming with satisfaction, she showed him her favorite photo. "What do you think?"

He swept a brief, appraising glance over the picture on her phone. "I think it's perfect." Smoothly, he rolled them over so she was half-sprawled on the couch and his arms were caging her in in the best possible way. "Why don't you go ahead and post it, and then we'll see how long I can keep you from checking your notifications?"

"Are you calling me addicted?" Aelin faked a dramatic gasp. "Why, how could you?"

Rowan chuckled. "Hardly, love. I'm just remarking that you're always glued to your phone right after you post, and I can think of a few ways to keep you...relaxed."

She smirked in that slow way that always set his blood afire. "What if I don't want to relax?"

"Then I'll wear you out."

Heat raced between her legs. "Rowan?"

"Hmm?" His hand--which had been inching steadily up her thigh--stilled. "Talk to me, love."

She exhaled deeply. "I...I need you to tell me yes one more time before I post this."

Quietly, firmly, Rowan reached over, locked his steady emerald eyes on her, and tapped the post button with his own finger.

Swiftly, Aelin put her phone on "do not disturb," turned off the screen, and tossed it onto the side table. "Ro?"

"Yes?"

Taking his hand, she settled it squarely between her legs. "I'm stressed about that post, love. I want to relax."

"That's my good girl," he murmured into her neck.

Then he stood, lifted her effortlessly into his arms, strode down the hallway to their bedroom, and kicked the door shut with a resounding slam.

~~~

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

[i-really-like-plants]

Look at my girlsssssssss

[akikocho]

I still feel shy and hesitant on sharing this but a little courage won't stop me from having second thoughts.

I'LL SHARE YOU CHARMAY'S CHILDREN!!

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • • • •

𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲

• Born in 1996 (he can be my HPMA OC haha)

• His second name "Will" came from Bill's name "William".

• Obsessed with both magical creatures and curse breaking.

• Pet peeve: Cutting his hair

• Has a pet toad he named Joel 2.0 (Maya 🤝 Firnen)

• Favorite Weasley? Himself /hj

• He acts responsible because he's the eldest sibling and wants to be a good role model for his younger siblings but he couldn't stop his chaotic persona.

• Rowan (male) would tolerate Firnen's non stop question about his mother's adventure on finding the curse vaults.

• Jacob's favorite nephew.

• His scar came from him playing as a beater in Quidditch.

• Has freckles from neck to toe.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲

• Born in 2001 (GEN Z LEZZGOOO)

• Very shy and timid at first but when you get to know her more, you will think she's cool af.

• Keeps up with trends, especially new ones.

• Fan of reading. Maya panics because she might fear her daughter will have myopia like her as a teen.

• Her second name came from Maya's best friend Rowanne (Female Rowan). And also share the same traits as Rowanne. Also her name Charlotte came from the dragon Hagrid found while 5th year! Charlie and Maya named the dragon like it was their kid.

• Her hair is a bit lighter than Firnen's.

• Likes to eat apples.

• Like Charlie, she's a dragon fanatic.

• Very sensitive when it comes to hurting creatures. If she sees someone hurting one she won't stop crying as she kicks that person in the nuts/face.

• Rowanne's favorite Avery-Weasley child :D

• Very flexible and she's also sporty like her parents and the rest of her siblings.

• Has freckles from head to toe.

𝐑𝐚𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲

• Born in 2004.

• The eldest twin of Rhea Weasley.

• Unlike her siblings, she's the only tanned skin sibling and she's proud of it.

• Lowkey curses in Tagalog and Bisaya.

• Very hyper. People might think she's drinking a lot of energy drinks.

• She's a fan of Quidditch and Ginny's number 1 fan (self proclaimed)

• She wants to ride a dragon someday.

• Has freckles all over her cheeks and nose.

𝐑𝐡𝐞𝐚 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲

• Born in 2004.

• The younger twin of Rae Weasley

• The fully shy and timid sibling.

• The other siblings are outdoor types but she's the opposite. She prefers reading and doing inventions instead of going out.

• The only sibling who has an interest in steampunk related stuff.

• She's also interested in magical creatures. She got influenced by Arthur.

• She has a pet lizard which she named Gear.

• Has freckles on each of her cheeks.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • • • •

The pictures were made on picrew but I edited the freckles and Arthur's hair color. If you want the links I'm putting them here.

Female Version

Male Version