#[softly and with feeling] what the fuck...

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

here have a Lights Out meme(?) before i go to bed <3 Wally is showing off a neat party trick to his newfriend <3

og:

[goosebelle]

nothing in the world belongs to me, but—

[cosmic-espero]

The bright side of Prey having nigh-identical controls to Dishonored is that I didn't have to adjust much even after all the hours I've been spending lately on pretty much the entire series.

The less bright side is that I keep trying to use Blink and Void Gaze to get around Talos I

[bloodbathfortwo]

Alex to Nigel or vice versa, whatever floats your boat. Despite their bad reputation, they'll always find ways to entice the other. Just like a game of cat and mouse. Thrilling and exciting.

[belovedstill]

.

[lanternlightss]

missing venti hours

[blujayonthewing]

the passage of time is so fucked. felix is brand spanking new what the hell do you mean that was two years ago

[acourtofquestions]

Golden flame danced between her fingers.

Elide recoiled, and the fire vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"My name is Essar," the female said softly. "I am a friend--of your friends, I believe."

Elide said nothing.

"Cairn is a monster," Essar said, taking a step closer. "Stay far from him."

"I need to find him."

"You played the part of his mistreated lover well enough. You have to know something about him. What he does."

"If you know where he is, please tell me." She wasn't above begging.

Essar ran an eye over Elide. Then she said, "He was in this city until yesterday. Then he went out to the eastern camp." She pointed with a thumb over a shoulder. "He's there now."

"How do you know?"

"Because he's not terrorizing the patrons of every fine establishment in this town, glutting himself on the coin Maeve gave him when he took the blood oath."

Elide blinked. She had hoped some of the Fae might be opposed to Maeve, especially after the battle in Eyllwe, but to find such outright distaste...

Essar then added, "And because my sister--the soldier you spoke with--told me. She saw him in the camp this morning, smirking like a cat."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because you are wearing Lorcan's shirt, and Rowan Whitethorn's cloak. If you do not believe me, inform them who told you and they will." Elide cocked her head to the side.

Essar said softly, "Lorcan and I were involved for a time."

They were in the midst of war, and had traveled for thousands of miles to find their queen, and yet the tightness that coiled in Elide's gut at those words somehow found space. Lorcan's lover. This delicate beauty with a bedroom voice had been Lorcan's lover.

"I'll be missed if I'm gone for too long, but tell them who I am. Tell them that I told you. If it's Cairn they seek, that is where he shall be. His precise location, I don't know." Essar backed away a step. "Don't go asking after Cairn at other taverns. He isn't well regarded, even amongst the soldiers. And those who do follow him... You do not wish to attract their interest."

Essar made to turn away, but Elide blurted,

"Where did Maeve go?"

Essar looked over her shoulder. Studied her.

The female's eyes widened. "She has Aelin of the Wildfire," Essar breathed.

Elide said nothing, but Essar murmured, "That was... that was the power we felt the other night." Essar swept back toward Elide. Gripped her hands. "Where Maeve went a few days ago, I don't know. She did not announce it, did not take anyone with her. I often serve her, am asked to... It doesn't matter. What matters is Maeve is not here. But I do not know when she will return."

Relief again threatened to send Elide crumpling to the ground. The gods, it seemed, had not abandoned them just yet.

But if Maeve had taken Aelin to the outpost where they'd lied that the Valg prince had been contained...

Elide gripped Essar's hands, finding them warm and dry. "Does your sister know where Cairn resides in the camp?"

For long minutes, then an hour, they had talked.

Essar left and returned with Dresenda, her sister. And in that alley, they had plotted.

Elide finished telling Rowan, Lorcan, and Gavriel what she'd learned. They sat in stunned silence for a long minute.

"Just before dawn," Elide repeated. "Dresenda said the watch on the eastern camp is weakest at dawn. That she'd find a way for the guards to be occupied. It's our only window."

Rowan was staring into the trees, as if he could see the layout of the camp, as if he were plotting his way in, way out.

"She didn't confirm if Aelin was in Cairn's tent, though," Gavriel cautioned. "Maeve is gone--Aelin might be with her, too."

"It's a risk we take," Rowan said. A risk, perhaps, they should have considered.

Elide glanced to Lorcan, who had been silent throughout. Even though it had been his lover who had helped them, perhaps guided by Anneith herself. Or at least had been tipped off by the scent on Elide's clothes.

"You think we can trust her?" Elide asked Lorcan, though she knew the answer.

Lorcan's dark eyes shifted to her. "Yes, though I don't see why she'd bother."

"She's a good female, that's why," Rowan said.

At Elide's lifted brow, he explained, "Essar visited Mistward this spring. She met Aelin." He cut a glare toward Lorcan. "And asked me to tell you that she sends her best."

Elide hadn't seen anything that came close to pining in Essar's face, but gods, she was beautiful. And smart. And kind. And Lorcan had let her go, somehow.

[neverendingford]

.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

more scribbles to throw in the salad

[leupagus]

losing my mind at you listing all the sexualities and including made-up misogynistic shit like "demisexual" but forgetting to even mention lesbians. why do you hate female homosexuals so much? make a donation to a lesbian charity and post a screenshot of the receipt

This is why I don't usually have anon on, despite the mostly lovely anon questions I get. The best part is you probably sent this to the wrong person — I don't recall ever listing sexualities, and if I did, "demisexual" is both very real and not remotely misogynistic, and the exclusion of lesbians would be a mistake on my part, not a sooper seekrit message to my followers that I hate lesbians. What the fuck are you talking about.

[pineappical]

ted headcanon? hes in love with trent

REAL AND TRUE

[fantasywritten]

I might revamp and get rid of a bunch of muses… I’m kind of reinventing myself due to an upcoming breakup and I want a fresh start on the blog so I can, you know, actually get some writing done.

[tacticaltechs]

"Do you take your tranquilizer before work or after?" GIRL WHAT

[witherbythesword]

them helping me get ready for bed before they leave to boardgame night. But instead of tucking me into bed before they leave they tell me to kneel on the bed as comfy as possible.

They give me a sweet kiss and secure some heavy weightes nippleclamps on me that make me whine and whimper and prop a pillow with the wand under me, letting it slowly and lazily buzz against me.

Another kiss to my forhead, to my cheeks and so very gently on my lips.

"You'll stay like this until I arrive at my friends house, you are not to cum until you allow you too. It should be 15-20 minutes. Okay?"

I nod, already breathing heavily and loving it so much.

"good girl. Another thing. I proped you smartphone up and have you on videocall, so if you wanna be extra good feel free to put on a show for me. And if there is an issue I'll be there too."

Getting a last tuck at the clamps before he leaves.

Really trying to put up a show at first but as the pleasure rises it just melts away all pretending.

Listening to him driving down a road, whistling, while I am moaning his name headlessly. Hearing hos car come to a standstill.. my heart beating in my chest.. soon. He asks how I am doing and i whome something into the phone.. anything.

And my body just following immediatly omce he says "cum for me"

Him helping me calm down, sweatly talking to me, until i am all tucked into bed again. Telling me i just made sure he'll be thinking of me all night while I sleep. aaaaaaand yeah WHATEVER.

[grict]

"kill you? that would be a waste. have i done so poorly at explaining myself? i have no desire to kill my fellow sorcerers, no matter how inconvenient some of you insist on being." he chuckled. "as for compatibility... i can ask you the same. how come you haven't left after all this time? still waiting on me to change my mind about my plan?"

It's similar to a dance. Slight adjustments of their footwork, flowing movements and artful posturing. Their focus is intimately honed on each other's responses- The push and pull of agile limbs, the bend of stretch of joints.

His fingers slide over black and gold silk, running the rough and calloused planes of combat worn hands over the rich expanse of sumptuously woven fabric.

"Death can mean countless things."

‘Attraction’ is a funny, oftentimes contrary thing. It seems the mind and eye are more aroused by what is hidden than what it can see. There was a time when, in Western culture, the sight of a well turned ankle was a most alluring sight to a gentleman. The Japanese had managed to ascribe a word that embodied attraction to the nape of a woman's neck- Those poets and Leo Tolstoy were really onto something.

The neck and back of the head are unique to the individual: birthmarks, the shape of the ears, characteristics of the skin that may be exposed or hidden by a certain hairstyle.

There is a sense of vulnerability.

"You haven't tried to convince me that I'd be wrong in doing so, would I be wrong to think no one has directly challenged your sophistry?"

It comes as no surprise that once he's pulled a gap between the underlayer of linen and the crisply folded collar of his kimono, he sees very little by the way of vulnerability. There is strength apparent in the broadness of his shoulders, the thicker shapes hidden but subtly hinted at due to the sharp angles of his clavicles. Wiry threads of tightly coiled muscle create a slope that seems to gracefully elongate his neck, bony landmarks giving way to pale ochre skin dotted with café-au-lait macules and the darker shading of birthmarks.

The pad of his thumb slides down the ridge of Suguru's breastbone, letting the rise of fall of his far too calm and steady breathing (did nothing faze this man?) push flesh against flesh, warmth bleeding into the core of his palm from his superior's body heat.