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phoebe-delia · 7 months

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Dear Rowan; Love, Harry.

This is a belated birthday gift for @basicallyahedgehog. Rowan you deserve much much more than this, much sooner. I'm so so sorry it's late. In my timezone, I am one day late for your birthday, but in yours I am two, and neither is acceptable in my book. So, because of that, I have written you something...unique. I suppose. That's a nice way to put it.

This is a letter. From Harry. To you. On your birthday. But not just any Harry. This is Harry from "this is me trying," and he has a message for you.

(For everyone else: This contains MAJOR SPOILERS from my fic "this is me trying." Like. Major. So. Don't read this if you haven't read that.)

Dear Rowan,

Er, hi? I guess? That's how letters are supposed to start....this is awkward. Why am I making this so awkward? It's not my fault I'm this way—Phoebe wrote me like this. It's her fault. Anyway.

First of all, happy birthday. Phoebe has advised me that it wouldn't be odd for me to catch you up on everything that's happened since we left off in Draco's and my story; because it hasn't ended. Far from it.

The bakery is doing well. Really, really well. Like. I had to hire someone to manage the front. (I'm quite certain I could've handled it myself, but Draco persuaded me to hire help because I "shouldn't have to do everything yourself, you stubborn Gryffindor. Now finish writing yet another chocolate buttercream recipe and come back to bed!"

Truthfully, business isn't quite as hectic as it was the first few years. Draco would say it's because the novelty of the "Saviour" owning a bakery finally died down, but I think the real reason is because he hasn't been doing his writing here as much. He says I have adoring fans, but he doesn't seem to remember that half the people who asked for autographs were his own fans. Honestly, he acts like he's not a best-selling author and poet. I should know. I was the one who baked the cupcakes for his meet-and-greet.

He insists working in the bakery is too distracting for him, which I understand. It can be loud in there, especially when there's a big crowd. And now he's got his own big, fancy study at home where he can do his writing, plus there's Grimmauld Place's extensive library. So he's happy. And he knows he's always got a table to himself at the bakery when he does come in, which is a distraction for me. Because there's nothing to stop me from bribing him with sweets in exchange for kisses. An even trade, if you ask me. And I think even he would agree.

Let's see. What else. Oh! Ron and Hermione are doing well. Hermione instantly took a liking to Draco when they met again. They've spent hours talking about both Wizarding and Muggle literature. And Ron's just happy to have someone to play chess with who's as skilled as him.

Pansy is doing well, too. Not much to report on her. Truth be told, that woman frightens me. But she's got a wealth of information about Draco, especially when she's had a little wine. (But don't tell either of them I said that. They'd both kill me.)

That's all to say, really. We're all happy, and Draco and I are in love, and now all the late-night drives I take are with him in the passenger's seat. It's good. It's so, so good. I wouldn't trade it for a thing.

Now onto you, the birthday-haver. Phoebe tells me how proud of you she is, and I can see why. Draco and I think you're fantastic, and we're incredibly impressed with how far you've come. We love every story you've made about us. Thank you for creating worlds for us to love each other, to be ourselves, and to be happy, above all else.

Thank you for being Phoebe's friend. When she wrote Draco's and my story, she was in a difficult chapter in her life, and she says you were a big part of why she was able to come out of it for the better. She wants me to tell you she feels beyond lucky to have you in her life, and from what she tells me, I can see why.

We love you, Rowan. Draco and I, and also Phoebe, who insisted with an odd gleam in her eyes that she loves you more, and Draco and I were not about to argue with that. Happy Birthday. Here's to another year of trying to figure out the difference between who we think we're supposed to be, and who we really are.

Love,

Harry

#happy birthday rowan #im so sorry this isn't...uhhh...normal?#this is super niche??#harry potter #meta

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rmkr-blog-blog · 5 months

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Happy Birthday Rowan Images #HappyBirthdayRowan #HappyBirthday #Rowan

#Happy Birthday Rowan Images #HappyBirthdayRowan #HappyBirthday #Rowan #Happy Birthday Rowan

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sollucets · 9 months

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happy birthday, first 🧡🖤 9/3/1998

c / c / c / c / c / c / c / c

#first kanaphan #rowan gifs #tuserhidden #khaotunq #tusersilence #mjtag #light of my life beloved of my heart savior of my 2023 #sorry this isn't fancier its just a collection of favorite first faces #from the last year #but i had to make Something #i love & adore him #happy birthday first ; may you be happy & well & loved #this'll probly get buried in only friends hype bc of the timing but. it's okay. i'll reup it lots ykno. i love him

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leiawritesstories · 8 months

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1778 (My Soldier Boy)

Rowaelin Month, Day 28: Wartime Sweethearts AU

A/N: this might just be the most American thing i've ever written lmaooooo 😂😂 so here's the context: the fic is set during the American Revolutionary War, which took place from 1776-1781. Rowan is a soldier in the Continental Army (the American side) and Aelin is the only daughter of a Loyalist (sympathetic to the British) family. and they're star-crossed lovers, yay!! posting this partially as a lil birthday treat to myself but mostly for you, hope you enjoy :))

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: archaic language (i'm a nerd lol), mentions of war, old outdated traditions, mentions of battle, brief mild angst, flirting

enjoy!!!

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

16th July 1778

Heart of my heart,

I write this in secret, barely able to make out my letters by the faint light of this single candle. I apologize for the sloppiness of my script; my governess would have a fit if she were to see this chicken scratch. Of course, I would then retort that she ought to have taught me to read and write in near darkness, as that is the more useful skill these days.

A few words, my love–we are leaving in three days.Yes, leaving! Mother has only said that it was what she and Father thought best, given the current…unrest. I am perfectly capable of reading the unspoken words. We are leaving because they fear what our neighbors might do while we sleep. We are leaving because the English are so hated here. We are leaving because nobody has seen or heard from my brother in months. Nobody save me, that is. I know where Aedion went, and I know what he is doing.

If you love me, Rowan, please send word that my brother is safe, that he is well clothed and has some form of roof over his head. Please. It will calm my nightly worries at least a small bit.

I do not know where we will go, only that we cannot make a scene of our leaving. We must pretend that we are only going into town like we typically do, except that our cart will be full of our belongings, rather than grain and butter to trade. I suspect we shall attempt to head east, towards the port at Baltimore, and from there we shall attempt to book passage on a ship. Father seems convinced that returning to England is the best course of action.

I do not want to leave.

They do not know that, nor do they care. It breaks my heart to admit it, but they do not. They expect me to keep quiet and obey. I have heard them discussing the possibilities of our lives once we return to Mother’s family estate in England–marriage. My marriage. To some titled landowner’s spoilt son, who gives not a whit what I want or who I am as long as I can give birth. I refuse to subject myself to such a fate.

Rowan, my love, I write this both as news and as a warning. I will not silently accompany my parents in their hasty retreat. I cannot abandon my brother in the middle of a war, nor can I leave you, the other half of my soul.

I will be waiting for you, my love. I swear it.

To whatever end,

AAG

Heart in his throat, Captain Rowan Whitethorn marched in step with his regiment up the muddy road leading into Baltimore. The bustling port city was largely unmarred by the war that continued to rage on, continuing to serve as major sea access for traders and soldiers alike. As he and the men that called him their leader entered the city proper, Rowan breathed a short, soft sigh of relief. They had two weeks of leave, unless they were called back into battle, and he fully intended to use those two weeks to the fullest.

“Enjoy your leave, men.” He saluted. “We shall regroup here in two weeks.” The blue-jacketed men broke ranks and ambled into town, most of them probably dispersing to the nearest pleasure house for a good strong drink and as many hours with a woman as their few remaining coins could buy. Rowan didn’t begrudge them their pleasure.

After years of war, they all needed whatever solace they could find. As did he.

Fingers instinctively wrapping around the small, precious bundle of letters in his jacket pocket, Rowan strolled towards the calmer part of town, the residential section not so crowded with soldiers on leave, traders, merchants, shouting vendors, and all the rest of the noise, chaos, and diverse cast of characters that populated a thriving shipping town like Baltimore. He glanced at the street markers as he walked, searching for the one with a blue stripe painted around it.

There.

Pulse hammering louder than gunfire, he turned down that street and walked past tidy clapboard houses interspersed with the occasional grocer, butcher, baker, and seamstress. He was certain every single one of the handful of people he passed could hear his thundering heartbeat, but none of them had said anything to the young man whose ragged blue jacket marked him an officer in the Continental Army who was walking up their quiet street like it was perfectly normal for him to do. One motherly lady had simply offered him a smile and a “thank you, son,” which had struck him right to the heart.

He emerged into a busier street, full of shops and taverns and public houses, the businesses bustling but not crowded with soldiers and sailors like the cheaper taverns down by the wharf were. Eyes scanning the signs, Rowan walked up the side of the street. The building he was looking for appeared suddenly in front of him. A brightly painted kingsflame flower adorned the pub’s wooden sign, its carefully wrought petals the work of a singular artist. An artist Rowan knew as well as his own heartbeat.

With his heart in his throat, Rowan walked into the pub. Immediately, a peal of soft, faintly raspy laughter caught his ear, and his attention snapped to the bar at the back of the softly-lit, cozy space. Behind the well-worn oak bartop, her golden hair tied back with a blue rag that he recognized as his own old shirt, stood the woman who owned every last shred of his heart.

Aelin Galathynius glanced over towards the door, and the whole sky lived in her vivid eyes.

Tin clattered against the bar.

Surprised grunts arose from a table full of stocky, gray-haired farmers.

And with a rush of air and a strangled gasp of his name, Aelin was in his arms, tears glittering in her eyes, warm and solid and real and clinging to him as if her life depended on it.

He was here.

Rowan was here, whole and healthy and standing on his own two legs in a much-patched blue jacket and dirt-stained trousers and battered boots, and his eyes were on her alone.

Aelin flew across the pub floor and all but leapt into her soldier boy’s arms, clinging desperately to him as if he would vanish unless she held him tight. She buried her face in his shoulder and drew in a deep lungful of his scent, the faint trace of mountain pines clinging to him even beneath the layers of sweat and grime. Hot, salty tears of joy leaked into his shirt through a tear in his jacket’s shoulder.

She felt his deep, familiar chuckle rumble beneath her ear. “Why are you crying, my love?”

“I’m crying,” she sniffled, raising her head to meet his adoring gaze, “because you smell so bloody awful that my eyes are watering.”

He tipped his head back and laughed, loud and unrestrained. “God above, I missed you.”

“I missed you more,” she returned, tracing her thumbs along the sharp juts of his cheekbones. “Every day felt like the longest one yet.”

“I’m here now,” he murmured in the soft voice he only used for her.

With tears pooled in her eyes, Aelin leant an inch forward and kissed him, her soldier boy, with all the pent-up fervor of the last several months. She’d been so terrified when her parents announced that they were leaving the Colonies, afraid that she would be uprooted from the life she’d come to love and forced to marry some stuffy lord and shut away in a manor house forever. The very idea that she would be forced to leave Rowan, her love, and Aedion, her brother, without knowing whether either of them would make it back to Baltimore unharmed was enough to disrupt her sleep. She had hardly dared to hope that her desperate escape plan would work until she stood on the pier and watched her parents’ ship depart without her on it.

Every long day of pouring pints of beer for rowdy sailors, handsy soldiers, and disruptive drunken no-goods was worth it to have her soldier boy back in her arms.

“Where–ah, Rowan!” Breathless, Aelin poked him in the ribs, pretending to disapprove of the promising way he kissed her throat. “We’re in public.”

“Let’s fix that, shall we?” He set her down onto her feet, caught her hand, and grinned. “I believe I need a bath, my love. Could you help me with that?”

“You are incorrigible,” she laughed. She pecked a quick kiss on his lips and led him out of the pub and down the streets, turning into a quiet neighborhood and leading him up the front steps of a tidy little brick cottage with a blue front door. “Please be kind about the mess.”

“I’ll show you a mess,” he whispered into her ear, far too tempting for his own good.

She flushed, her cheeks staining bright pink. “Rowan!”

“Aelin,” he mimicked. They were safely inside the house, so he looped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him. “I’ve been dreaming of you for months, love.”

“And you’re going to bathe before you act out any of those dreams, my love.” Giggling, she ducked out of his embrace and led him down the short hall to a washroom. “The tub is full, but it might be cold.”

“I don’t care if the water is cold.” He shrugged off his jacket and stepped out of his boots. “It’s a hell of a better bath than we get in the army.”

She sighed fondly. “I’m still going to boil some water.” He made to protest, and she placed her fingers over his mouth. “Ah-ah, soldier boy. Let me spoil you. Besides, the hot water is half for your filthy clothes.”

“Fine,” he acquiesced. He shed the rest of his dirty, worn clothing and climbed into the tepid bathwater, groaning quietly as he sank into a proper bath for the first time in too long. “Join me, love.”

“Soon.” She kissed his forehead and dropped a washrag and a bar of soap into the tub. “When you stink a little less.”

His playful growl followed her all the way out to the front room.

Following the bath–where she had indeed joined her soldier boy and taken his mind off the weight of war for a few moments–and a hearty dinner, Aelin exchanged her regular blouse and skirt for a soft cotton nightdress, braided her hair, and settled into bed with a lantern lit on the side table and a novel in her hands. Rowan was in the washroom; the faint splashing of water indicated that he was scrubbing out his uniform like he insisted he wanted to. So she opened her novel to the page where she had last left off and lost herself in the tender romance unfolding amidst the pages. She was so absorbed in the novel that she didn’t notice the mattress shifting as Rowan climbed into the bed and settled down beside her.

His soft, low chuckle drew her out of the novel-world. “Good story, Ae?”

“Wonderful,” she murmured. Reaching the end of the chapter, she placed the bookmark, closed the book, laid it aside, blew out the lantern, and tucked herself into his side, her head against his chest.

“I missed you,” he whispered after a peacefully quiet interval, stroking one hand idly up and down her back.

“And I you.” In the faint moonlight, her eyes met his, months of pent-up yearning and uncertainty glossing their turquoise depths. “I am sorry I didn’t write more.”

He soothed her worry with a gentle kiss. “I would likely have found you before your letters found me. ’Tis the life of a soldier.”

She hummed in agreement. “On that note…when did you last see Aedion?” Her older brother, whom she loved dearly but whose rashness she did not ignore, had vanished from the Galathynius home early last spring, leaving no indication of where he was going or why. Aelin alone had an idea of what he had gone to do, because he had confided his wishes to her. He had gone off to be a soldier in the Continental Army, but his unit were scouts, which meant that he could be anywhere between Philadelphia and Yorktown.

Rowan exhaled a long, controlled breath. “The last time our paths crossed was in September, at the camp outside Newport. He mentioned going south, but no details.”

“South.” Aelin rolled the idea over in her mind, forcing herself not to consider the harsher implications. “Was he…how was he?”

“Healthy, as far as I could tell, and tired, but so are all of us soldiers.” Rowan ran his hands along Aelin’s tense shoulders, encouraging her to relax. “He said to give you his love and that he’ll do unspeakably horrible things to me if I hurt you.”

Aelin laughed. “Now that sounds like Aedy. Too protective for his own good, he is.” Idly, her touch trailed along the slope of Rowan’s shoulders, tracing the new scar that slashed from his right shoulder down towards his pectoral muscle. “Tell him that I will return the unspeakably horrible favor if either one of you does anything stupid.”

“Indeed I shall.” Laughing softly, Rowan pulled Aelin flush against his chest, her heartbeat atop his, and kissed her. She sighed into the kiss, threading her fingers into his overgrown hair.

“I don’t want you to go back,” she murmured after they had separated.

He swallowed thickly. “We both know I must.”

“I know.” Her voice was a fragile thread. “I’m keeping you all to myself for the next two weeks, though. It’s only fair.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I love you, my wildfire.”

She smiled tenderly at him. “I love you too, my soldier boy.”

Mid-November, 1778

Aelin,

I apologize both for the shortness of this note and the fact that it took me so bloody long to write it. There is something I must tell you, and I can only hope that you hear it from Rowan rather than me and my paltry excuse for a letter.

We are marching to Savannah. Intelligence has it that the Redcoats intend to advance upon the city, and we cannot let the stronghold go without a fight.

I cannot promise that I will be able to write for any amount of time, and as much as I hate to do this, I leave you all my affection. I will stay as safe as possible, that I can promise. The moment I am able, I swear on my blood that I will come to you, and if possible, that I will bring Rowan.

Stay strong for us, dear sister.

Yours,

Aedion

The short note had reached her in late January of 1779, after three and a half months of ever-increasing tension and worry spurred by the grim reports coming up from the South. Before he left in mid-November, the same time Aedion’s letter was dated, Rowan had revealed that his unit was headed to Savannah to reinforce the troops already there. He had been confident that, with the extra reinforcements, the Army would be able to stave off the British–if not all on their own, then at least long enough for the shipment of French troops to arrive.

Just before the New Year, the newspapers reported Savannah’s defeat.

Since then, all Aelin had received was silence. No letters, no notes, nothing listed in the papers, no weary soldiers showing up on her doorstep. The fact that Rowan’s and Aedion’s names remained out of the papers was but a small measure of comfort; all too often, fallen soldiers’ names never made it onto the listings.

The cloth tying back her hair was black now, the only outward sign of suffering she would allow herself. The people who came into the pub noticed her quiet demeanor, the way her usual vivacious cheer was dampened, and passed quiet condolences to her across the worn oak bartop–a squeeze of the hand, a mourning mother’s shared tears, a word of comfort, a “thank-you” from someone who rarely spoke those words. It lifted her spirits a bit, but not much.

Every night, she trudged home to her quiet little house, cradled a small watercolor portrait of Rowan–done a year ago, it was the only portrait she’d ever convinced him to sit for–stared down into his painted face, and refused to let her captive tears fall. Though her heart and soul ached for her soldier boy, though her sleep was disturbed by nightmarish imaginings of what could have happened or could be happening to him, she refused to let her tears fall until she knew his fate for certain.

If nothing else, she owed him--and the child just beginning to stir inside her womb--that fragile hope.

~~~

TAGS: please lmk if you want to be added/removed or if tags don't work :)

@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 #rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth #rowaelin month 2023 #rowaelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass au #revolutionary war au #american revolution #happy birthday to me

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rowan-ashtree · 1 month

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to anyone on the ace spectrum: your experience is valid, you are seen, and you are so so treasured. happy international asexuality day 💜

#international asexuality day #asexual #happy birthday asexuals!!!! i am giving you all a forehead kiss or a hug or a friendly wave or whatever you're comfy with <3 #rowan says words

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stillcandleking · 2 months

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!! (mild) I WAS BORN FOR THIS SPOILERS !!

rereading i was born for this and sobbing over them playing happy birthday for jimmy at his granddads after jimmy ran away from signing the contract. the way they just played happily right after arguing. oh my GOD GUYSSSS THIS ISN'T FAAAAAIR I WANNA BE IN A BAND AND PLAY MUSUC AS PASSIONATELY AS THEY DO. ART IS ABT THE LOVE OF CREATION AND IT BREAKS MY HEART THAT THEY HAD IT TAKEN AWAY FROM THEM

#ITS JIMMYS BIRTHDAY #THE BIRTHDAY MAN #ITS FOURTEEN YEARS #SINCE HIS LIFE BEGAN #HAPPY BIRTHDAY JIM #HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY GUY #LOVE FROM LISTER AND RO #YOUR BEST PALS TILL WE DIE #i was born for this #lister bird #jimmy kaga ricci #rowan omondi #alice oseman #osemanverse

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glacierruler · 1 month

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Happy Birthday @prince-rowan-of-the-forest

I drew your OC Side, Sequoia as a birthday gift, I hope you like how fae turned out!

(I was the anon in your inbox asking about OCs)

#glacier's art #glacier's digital art #art #artblr #artists of tumblr #happy birthday rowan!

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prince-rowan-of-the-forest · 1 year

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Happy birthday to my favourite boy!! He just wants to read his book in peace, come on people.

I didn't have the energy to spend hours on this, so I hope the sketchy alternative is ok!

Also this is the ambigram of Janus' name up close because it was the thing that took me longest to do out of this whole freaking drawing.

#sanders sides #happy birthday Janus #janus sanders #tsss art #art #sanders sides art #digital aritst #janus sanders fanart #ts janus #rowan arts

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mina1007 · 1 year

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╔═══════╗

Happy birthday

╚═══════╝

November 23/24

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lisin-drw · 2 years

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Legilimens

Part 2 [see part 1]

Fin.

|| Part 1 || > Part 2 < ||

[Materials from ibisPaintX and screenshots from the game are used]

ref: 。。

Joslyn hates garlic. Garlic juice is really a bad idea ಠ‿ಠ

#happy birthday jacob #sorry im late #i dont know much about chess so pls tell me if theres anything wrong in the comic 👉👈#jacob wei #joslyn wei #rowan khanna #penny haywood #hphm jacob #hphm mc #hphm #hogwarts mystery #harry potter hogwarts mystery #my art #lisin draws #hphm oc

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tiistirtipii · 11 months

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Whooo Akk’s trying the new Grimace shake!

Wait what’s happening?

Rest in Peace 💜

#fair warning if you’re not familiar with this trend this will look like such a weird shitpost to you and I apologise #happy birthday grimace #akkposting #first kanaphan #the eclipse #I feel like this is improper use of rowan’s purple heart sorry #idk who or what possessed me to make this but I did what I had to do

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rowanthefierce · 2 days

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who is reading my jaspidot fanfiction. show yourselves

#rowan speaks #the anthology on ao3 goes up by like 5-10 hits every few days #so either someone is slowly making their way through each oneshot #or there's still multiple people out here dreaming the dream #i wish i could draw because i got inspired by the dumbest thing off instagram (/pos) and it's really only replicable in comic form #but i immediately thought of jaspidot when i saw it #happy ninth birthday the return / jailbreak #you changed my brain chemistry forever #jaspidot #sticking this in the tag idgaf

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thegreyj · 2 years

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A simple drink

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LEIA! 🥳 @leiawritesstories

May your birthday be amazing and incredible and full of magnificent stories!

Here's a little Rowaelin oneshot for you!

A simple drink

It had been one of those days where everything seemed to go wrong. The morning had started off fairly well, but when Rowan was picking up his usual coffee order, someone had crashed into him making his cup fly and spill its contents right on Rowan’s shirt. Of course he had to run back home and change. His apartment was on the opposite way from the coffee shop, so this detour made him quite remarkably late for work.

At the office Rowan had first managed to break the scanner while trying to get an important signed document copied. He tried to turn the machine off and on again, knowing that would be the first instruction their tech help would give him, but somehow that small, common function managed to mess up the settings of the machine. Rowan found himself staring at the tiny touch screen which displayed something that could very well be hieroglyphs to him.

His day of hell was just beginning. He’d been working on a presentation for months, knowing they were supposed to receive foreign visitors from a partner company that day. His boss Maeve was supposed to go over the presentation before actually presenting it to their guests, but the email attachment wouldn’t work and his boss couldn’t get it to open. Rowan then decided to just simply transfer it to a thumb drive and give it to Maeve. Somehow the entire presentation then vanished, making Rowan panic.

His boss was not happy, which was how Rowan had ended up improvising a speech to the group of visitors. There was just one major problem with that; Rowan was not good with words, strange people or performing, so he pretty much tanked the entire speech. Trying to save the last remnants of his dignity, he tried to leave the conference room quietly. Only to end up face flat on the floor with the coffee cart on its side and the snacks rolling all over the hallway. The snacks that were meant for their visitors.

With the day not even halfway through, Rowan was completely done with the day. He just wanted to go for a nice, calm drink before going home and forgetting about the horrible day. Luckily the rest of his work went by without any major issues, only a couple of scheduling issues. And a virus on his office computer, which had been attached to an email sent by his friend and colleague, Fenrys, who just wanted to improve his friend's mood. Rowan did not find the dancing, multiplying penises on his desktop funny. In fact, he was mortified when he - once again - had to call the tech help department to come get rid of the virus.

Fenrys seemed to realise his mistake, and wanted to make it up by offering Rowan a drink after work. They made plans to meet up at their favorite bar once they had had a chance to change out of the stuffy work clothes and into something more fitting. Nothing could go wrong with going out for a simple drink, right?

Oh, how wrong Rowan was. Going out was not a bad thing in itself; what made it a bad thing was the fact that he was now accidentally crashing a private birthday party. Rowan did not like surprising situations or meeting with new people - strangers made him nervous - so this was practically a nightmare for him. Right from the moment he stepped inside the bar with Fenrys, they had been pulled along, party hats strapped on both of their heads and some disgusting colorful shots handed to them. Fenrys happily threw his shot down his throat, but Rowan just stared at the purple concoction with a frown, before stating that it looked unfit for human consumption.

Of course his night of horror didn’t end there; how he ended up helping the birthday girl blow out the candles was a complete mystery to him as well. One minute he was trying to remove his party hat, the next a random leggy blonde was pulling him towards the middle of the pile of people, screaming it was time for cake. Keeping his hand in hers, she stood behind the cake singing the birthday song along with everyone else, before saying make a wish and blowing out the small flickering flames. Rowan was getting more and more confused, but not wanting to make a big deal out of himself, he decided to play along until he could leave.

Finally finding the perfect time to detach himself from the party group, Rowan ordered a whiskey from the bartender before successfully hiding himself in a dark corner where he could still see everyone around. He was exhausted after being so social, and he had been waiting for this glass of whiskey for the entire day. It was just him and the golden brown drink in front of him, with the party sounds still going strong in the background.

“I thought the birthday hero is supposed to be at the party instead of hiding from the guests,” a voice interrupted Rowan’s thoughts. Lifting his gaze up, he noticed the same leggy blonde who had pulled him along to the main part of a birthday celebration. Rowan quirked a brow before responding.

“I did not force you to leave your party, did I? I just wanted to enjoy a nice glass of whiskey.”

“Wait- what? My party? I thought-,” the woman in front of him scrunched up her face. “I thought we were celebrating your birthday.”

“No, I’m pretty sure my friend and I crashed your birthday celebration,” Rowan let out a small laugh.

“Okay, so, wait- if it isn’t your birthday, and it definitely isn’t mine… then… did we just hijack someone’s birthday celebration? I totally thought it was your party and I tried to get you to blow out the candles. Oh my gods, this is hilarious and also now I understand why you stood there so awkwardly. I’m sorry,” the blonde burst out laughing. Rowan couldn’t help but join in - this was definitely an unexpected turn of events.

“Maybe we should get out before they realise what happened and who stole the thunder from someone else,” the woman suggested and for the first time in his life, Rowan didn’t feel awkward with a stranger, so he found himself nodding before throwing a few bills on the table. Getting up, they walked to the coat room and ever the gentleman, he helped the blonde put on her coat.

“Oh, by the way, my name is Aelin. Thought it would be nice to introduce myself to my partner-in-crime,” she said when they were outside.

“Rowan. Can’t say it was a pleasure to be involved in such a horrendous crime, but I did enjoy meeting you,” Rowan flirted, much to the amusement of Aelin, who let out a loud and melodious laugh at his comment.

“Well, Rowan, are you ready for an adventure? I’m assuming you’re available for some more criminal acts, we can’t just leave it on stealing some stranger’s birthday wish,” Aelin asked with a mischievous tone and a smile that told him she was up to no good.

“Under normal circumstances, I might be tempted to say no. However, this day has already been so weird, I don’t think there’s anything that could possibly make it any worse,” Rowan stated, not yet aware just how much his night was about to change. The smirk he had in response made him wonder if he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life, or perhaps the best decision by going along with whatever Aelin was planning.

Tags: @rowanaelinn @morganofthewildfire @tomtenadia @leiawritesstories @aelinchocolatelover @backtobl4ck @wesupremeginger @goddess-aelin @hiimheresworld @swankii-art-teacher

#happy birthday Leia #all the best for you #rowaelin oneshot #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #throne of glass fanfiction #tog fic #rowaelin fanfiction #tog fanfic #throne of glass #my writing #aelin galathynius

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sollucets · 9 months

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THE ECLIPSE || EPISODE ONE

aired august 12, 2022

#the eclipse #the eclipse series #akkayan #theeclipseedit #rowan gifs #eclipse1year #tuserhidden #tusersilence #khaotunq #userbon #ghost post (scheduled)#schedule date: 7/8 #my beloved show is one year old today!!!!!!!!#'celebrating show birthdays is annoying' fuck that post and happy birthday the eclipse <3 i'll be doing this for months #(ed: of airing today put a very happy wrench in my plans. merry anniversary & raysan day <3)

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leiawritesstories · 11 months

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little princess

HAPPY BIRTHDAY EZRA!!!!!! @rowanaelinn you are such an incredibly talented writer and wonderful friend and i'm so glad we share this crazy fandom space <3 here's some fluffs for you❤️❤️

word count: 827

warnings: none, i swear

Enjoy!

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

Eleven hours.

He’d been pacing outside that door for eleven godsdamned hours. A track showed in the carpet. The outrageously expensive rug Aelin had carefully selected and imported from Eyllwe.

“Aelin’s going to castrate you for that, you know.”

Rowan whirled at the voice, finding Lorcan casually standing at the end of the hall, observing his brother warrior with arched brow.

“For the track?” He shrugged. “Either of us can fix it with a flick of a finger. What she doesn’t know won’t bother her.”

“You forget that she’s in no condition to forgi—”

“I know what godsdamned condition my mate is in, thank you, and if you came here to snark at me, you can shove it up your a—” His sentence cut off abruptly as Lorcan called up whatever godsdamned power he controlled and whisked the two of them out to the training yard.

“You prick! I’m supposed to be there!”

“You’re supposed to NOT be adding worry to your mate’s labor, dammit! And pacing your big ugly boots into her expensive carpeting isn’t the way to do that. Besides, I’m willing to bet you were practically screaming your worry down the bond, which really does absolutely nothing good.”

“At least I have big boots,” smirked Rowan, glancing pointedly down at Lorcan’s everyday shoes.

Lorcan’s face split into a positively feral smirk. “Five hundred years and you still can’t accept that my sword has always been broader."

Whatever few remaining threads Rowan had tying his self-control together snapped. And he launched himself at his brother with a growl of pure Doranellian rage. Lorcan smirked, dodged his barreling attack, and kicked the back of his knee. Rowan grunted, catching himself before he could fall, turned, and let his fists fly. Lorcan met him blow for blow, jab for jab, that infuriating smirk of his never fading. Through the mire of stress and worry clouding his mind, Rowan realized that Lorcan was giving him what he needed: an outlet for everything overloading his brain.

Thank me later, brother, the dark-haired male's vicious grin said.

Rowan grunted. So damn full of yourself whenever you think you did something useful. He brought his flagging defenses back up and landed a punishing hit to Lorcan’s stomach. The older male grunted, backhanded him, and kicked his legs out from under him. Swearing viciously, Rowan hit the dirt of the training ring with a thud. Lorcan tackled him, promptly rolled him over, and put him in a headlock. Pinned, he slapped the ground three times, yielding, a significant chunk of his stress gone.

“Who would have known that getting your ass kicked would help you not to worry about your lovely, strong mate?” Lorcan inquired.

“Says the one who knocked Elide up first.”

“Quite. And look how well that turned out.”

Rowan snorted a laugh. “Cal likes me best.”

Lorcan rolled his eyes. "You're just saying that because he hasn't shit his diaper all over you or spit up all over your clean fucking clothes."

"Ah, the perils of fatherhood."

Lorcan swatted him. "We'll see who's joking when--" Elide appeared from an upstairs window and motioned with her hand. Instantly, the two males were on their feet again, racing for the doors.

“Whitethorn?” Concern creased Lorcan's normally scowling face.

“What.” Nerves and anxiety nearly overpowered Rowan's better judgment; he really hadn't meant to snap at Lorcan like that.

“Gods above, calm down.”

“I am calm!”

“In that case, it’s time to go home. Aelin and your baby are—” Rowan was gone before Lorcan finished his sentence. Lorcan rolled his eyes and followed him into the manor.

Back in the queen and king's hallway, Rowan paused before the door leading into Aelin’s room. The sharp medicinal smells from earlier were gone. His wife’s scent still hinted at pain, but also…joy. Such unending joy. He lifted his hand to knock, but the door swung open before he could. Standing there, grinning, were Elide and Lysandra.

“Ready to meet your little princess?”

Rowan gulped, fighting back unexpected tears. Princess.

Yes, you big oaf, a daughter. Aelin’s voice. Exhausted, but not lacking that wry humor of hers.

Rowan crossed the room to his mate and the bundle of blankets in her arms. His daughter. Their daughter. Asleep, he couldn’t tell her eye color, but the little one's face—it was a tiny, perfect mirror of Aelin's own. He slumped onto the bed beside her, overcome with awe and fear and a hundred other emotions.

“May I...hold her?” His words were thick with unshed tears. Aelin smiled softly, tiredly, and placed their baby girl in his arms. Rowan looked down into the face of his daughter. And cried, overcome with the emotions of holding the baby he never dreamed of having. The first of many, he hoped. When his eyes cleared, he sniffled and looked to his mate.

“What are we naming her?”

Aelin's exhausted face lifted with quiet joy. "Alanna Evalin Whitethorn Galathynius."

Utterly perfect.

~~~

tags:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck