#blackbeaks

[alicenchanted]

@buffy-vanserra ill take that limb now… Here’s my Throne of Glass gals holiday quiz, let me know who you got in the tags or vote in the poll below!

Which are you?

Aelin

Manon

Nesryn

Voting ended onNov 25, 2025

[acourtofquestions]

NEW This or That game (thanks to the fun I had on @lavendarneverlands with the @wishfulimaginings tag inspo)!

[aeridanus]

Starting to pick up things where I left them almost exactly two years ago :) I spent a bit of time updating written worldbuilding and now slowly return to sketching around. This is an idea for a species within the Neor (blackbeaks) biological suborder. I was figuring them out back then, then only had heads without more ideas, then at least their phylogenetic tree, and now everything’s moving forward a little :)

[marvelnaturalock]

Hear me out!

Tarot Cards BUT make them SJM characters.

[the-lost-changeling]

The Arms of a Hunter

masterlist

It’s been aaaaaaaaages since I’ve posted! sorry for the long wait, I’ve been in a writing slump but hopefully im on the way out now :) hope you enjoy this one, it’s been a year or so since I actually read tog though so sorry if the details are a bit off 😬 it’s also my first ever throne of glass fanfiction!!

Summary: a snapshot into the life of Asterin and her hunter before she left.

tw: kind of angsty because of knowing what will happen, but no specific warnings

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He was no witch.

Asterin knew this, laying beside him as the moonlight streamed through the open window, gently illuminating his dark hair. She thought, distantly, of Manon and her shock of white hair, of the ethereal and deadly beauty of her sisters. And the humanness of her hunter.

He lacked that killing instinct. It was one of the first things she had noticed about him, how very un-witchlike he was. Even when hunting he was gentle, almost apologetic as he took lives. He never took more than he needed, never hurt them more than he needed to. His calloused hands were gentle. His strong arms were warm.

Manon’s grandmother would have laughed in her face for that weakness.

But she was not here. Manon was not here. The thirteen were not here. Here, in this cabin, in this corner of the world, it was just Asterin, and her hunter, and the tiny life that they had formed together.

Even in sleep, his arm rested protectively over her waist. She couldn’t help her teasing smile at that thought — of course, if anyone needed protecting a human hunter would be no use when a witch stood beside him. Would be no use if it was a witch standing against him, either, but even so that arm remained protectively over the small bump that had started forming. Their witchling had kicked for the first time a week ago — a good, strong kick. Asterin had quickly regretted ever wishing for the kicking to start, but her hunter had only laughed and told her that of course their witch-child was strong. Half-wild was the phrase he had used; half-wild like her mother.

She glanced over to the broom she had begun carving for herself. Almost half finished now, the whittling tools resting beside it from where she had left them this morning to go hunt with him. When it was complete she could go home to the Blackbeaks once more, to her sisters, and leave this cabin and the man inside it forever.

Not forever, no, she thought to herself, running a hand over her stomach as she felt another kick. Not forever. A piece of him would stay with her.

Would her daughter have his grey eyes? His dark hair? His strong arms? Underneath that ethereal, unsettling beauty of a witchling, would she have all the markers of her human father?

It was unheard of to wish for humanness, weakness, in a witchling. But Asterin silently begged the mother for pieces of the hunter in the girl to come.

Asterin huffed as the hunter grumbled something in his sleep — humans, so helpless they can’t even sleep without announcing their obnoxious presence — and his arms silently tightened around her. She shuffled into him once more, arms wrapping around his shoulders. He pressed a gentle, half asleep, kiss to the crook of her neck as she smiled and raked her nails soothingly along his back.

“Stop stressing and go to sleep” he grumbled against her as she sighed, rolling her eyes. How he knew she was awake and thinking without so much as opening his eyes was beyond her. Maybe humans did have their uses, after all.

“Hush” she growled, narrowing her eyes as he huffed a laugh at her. She debated threatening him once more but thought better of it as he ran a hand over her bump. Asterin curled against him and let her eyelids grow heavy, matching her breaths to his even ones. He was already asleep again, the wretch.

Asterin studied the face she knew as well as her own again, searching for something new to remember in that sun-worn skin. His dark hair had fallen across his eyes — she would have to cut it, again. She brushed it back from his forehead and placed a gentle kiss there, too.

Yes, maybe humans did have their uses.

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Taglist: @the-lonelybarricade @corcracrow

[audsthoughts]

“From now until Darkness claims us.”

For Mannon, for the Thirteen, for their wyrvens, for Abraxos, for Keelie, for the Crochans, for the Ironteeth rebels, for Rhiannon who held the gate, for Rhiannon Crochan the second, for for them all.

[aiocho]

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･Manon Blackbeak･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

Hello Loves! Yes I am alive and I am returning! I’m sorry I’ve been away for so long, this years be a rough one and I haven’t had time to post very much here. But I’m here now!

And with me I have brought a new addiction The Throne Of Glass Series is now one of my absolute favorites and I haven’t even finished yet! I’m on the 6th book and so far my gut has been wrentching

Anyway though I drew Manon because she’s one of my absolute favorite characters and I wanted to practice some realism! So here we are the best of both worlds!

Anyway I hope you have a wonderful day!

[saintnesryn]

Anyways Petrah Blueblood is viciously underated and she deserves a novella/book of her own