#10/10 writing

[l-lover9]

ARGH I NEED HIM GOD PLS

Sylus who awakens from a nightmare and acts immediately on his instinct to hold you, gripping you close under the sheets with one arm around your waist and one tucking behind your neck. You blearily look up at him, shaken out of your own sleep. “Sy?”

He doesn’t respond, only rests his chin atop your head, breathing in the smell of your shampoo, arms locked around you like a vice. You can feel his heart racing as you’re pressed up against his chest, the slight tremble in his hands. “Sy,” your voice grows more serious. “What’s–”

He silences you by pulling you in even closer, burying his head against your neck. For all the times he’s helped you pick apart your own struggles, he’s not very good with words when it comes to his personal feelings. You sigh, stroking a gentle hand across his bare back. “That nightmare again? The one where I’m stabbing you with a big sword?”

He nods, the motion almost imperceptible. His voice comes out like a low hoarse growl. “Sounds stupid when you say it like that.” The silent plea for reassurance, something his usual confidence rarely needs, is clear to you.

“Not stupid,” you correct softly, rubbing his back. As your touch soothes him slowly, his tight hold on you gradually relents. He sighs in frustration, leaning back on his pillow and staring up at the ceiling. You shift closer, sitting up on your hand to place a kiss in the center of his broad chest. His body tenses at the sensation, and he looks down at you, red eyes soft and almost murky with emotion. “See? No sword here,” you mumble, as you lay your head against his chest. He only pets your hair in response, but you’re satisfied as you hear his breathing slowly steady, his touches becoming lazy and usual, not as if he’s still trying to convince himself you’re really here. He drifts off finally back into sleep, the rise and fall of his chest like a gentle ocean beneath your head.

[incorrectly-quoting-mxtx]

The amount of dick jokes in MXTX novels is really something to behold because a lot of them are pretty subtle…..

And then there’s General Dick Yang

[are-we-at-baldurs-gate-yet]

Act 3 truly has some glorious NPC names, here's a (still growing) list of my favorites so far:

Sauceman Chorizo

Flant Borlley

Muttonchops Dorryss

‘Plumes’ Fronkin

Spool

Stinker

Salamander

Ch’kk’ch

Ooltheg

Splatters Doolug

Felgi Diggums

Cinnamon

Slow-Butt

Punkins

Hiccups Bortun

Syllabub ‘Shimmer’ Fran

Borgus Elamin

Hoots Hooligan

Angry Mar’hyah

Oyster Boy Dringo

Hunkers Boolean

[algumaideia]

I really wanted to like Fernanda because Aureliano Segundo was sort of a piece of shit and a terrible husband, but she was so spoiled and had no regards for the culture of Macondo and she was such a snob that thought literally everyone was less than her. However, she is a very well written character and has amazing scenes.

I loved the monologue, it was amazing, all her frustration, they she let it out, how she talked ill about the dead and then felt religious guilty after it. Everything about the invisible doctors was so intriguing, I was dying of curiosity to know more about this plot point and everytime they mentioned she didn't know how to talk about her problems was really funny for some reason. Her reaction to the americans was iconic.

[weresmarterthanthis]

just started watching the kenobi series and my babygirl obi-wan 🫶 her 🫶🫶

that's it send post

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

the fact that shakespeare was a playwright is sometimes so funny to me. just the concept of the "greatest writer of the English language" being a random 450-year-old entertainer, a 16th cent pop cultural sensation (thanks in large part to puns & dirty jokes & verbiage & a long-running appeal to commoners). and his work was made to be watched not read, but in the classroom teachers just hand us his scripts and say "that's literature"

just...imagine it's 2450 A.D. and English Lit students are regularly going into 100k debt writing postdoc theses on The Simpsons screenplays. the original animation hasn't even been preserved, it's literally just scripts and the occasional SDH subtitles.txt. they've been republished more times than the Bible

[evilmafuyu666]

[lousyglitch]

The wildest thing about Ben 10 is that it took until 2005 for someone to have the idea "what if a kid could turn into a bunch of aliens" like this isn't obviously the coolest and most marketable premise for anything ever. Each design is a new toy. A new powerset. Come on.

But to prove that it wasn't a fluke, they continued to have the best ideas for every aspect of it. How does he transform? A cool watch you can also sell as a toy. That watch's name? Omnitrix. Say it. It's so satisfying. How many aliens? Ten. Nice round number. The kid's name? Ben. The show's name? Ben Ten. His full name is Benjamin Tennyson, a normal, plausible name, but he also turns into 10 aliens.

Bigger brands dream about this synergy. Better writers would kill for this coherence. So holistic. So intuitive. The identity alone!!! The retro alien sound motif? Chilling. The green? Any other color would be wrong. The kirby krackle pattern? It seems so obvious in retrospect. The roadtrip format? Genius. Lesser writers would've done the spider-man high school thing. His arch nemesis being Cthulhu darth vader? Inspired, iconic, intimidating!

The execution has its highs and lows, but the idea??? Game changing. So self-evident that it seems inevitable. If Ben 10 didn't exist, it would be necessary to invent him.

[celestial-moths]

I missed the final part of this where FPK confirms that he prefers that to his real name because I realized I had the wrong pants equipped and it distracted me, but this is possibly the funniest moment I've seen in this game so far. They literally couldn't come up with a name for this character, so he's just Face Paint Kid.

[composeregg]

edit (10/23/2024) now that the poll is over: Original version, with 10 questions, from April 2023 here

And, given that the original is from April 2023, that means I can very easily say:

No, this was not an ISAT reference!

Just because I use parentheses and 2nd person pov and love the same concepts of what a time loop can do to a person doesn't mean it's ISAT

(Yes, I like ISAT, the original poll is why I was recommended the game! But if you look at the original, you can see all the origins of the options to choose from, including what spurred me on with the moss option from the replies)

If I were going to make something for ISAT, I would never be so vague, you can simply look at my ao3 for proof of that

[zhukzucraft]

nuclear family as described by Iskall

[dapper-lil-arts]

You should read The Princess and the Peasant it's really good lol

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[stervrucht]

How I feel after finally finishing that long-ass chapter...

[thatwavephenomenon]

No but the 'team meeting' after the fall of Weisshaupt was so. unorganic or unnatural. 'What a crushing defeat, maybe we should focus on our mental health now to do better next time.' Like hello??? This is not your job of which you had to take a step back from because your boss is an asshole?? You are all at war against two gods who keep Resident Eviling the world?????? I mean it's not such an awful idea but it's executed rather poorly. Like the game was this close to display a message saying 'You have just finished one of the main quest. You should focus on the companion's quests next.'

[i-am-a-lost-girl16]

SO GOOD

stubborn love

elide x lorcan, modern au/coworkers + semi-established + sickfic <3 word count: 4070

She managed to contain herself until Darrow left her office, but the minute the glass door swung silently shut behind him, Elide slumped down on her desk. The cool wood offered a small relief against her heated cheek.

Her peace shattered less than a minute later when someone re-entered her office. Elide forced herself to sit up. The quick change in positions made her dizzy, and she blinked hard a few times. Finally, her gaze focussed on Aelin, who was looking at her like something was very, very wrong. 

Elide suppressed a feverish chill. “Is something wrong?”

“Um, yeah,” her coworker exclaimed, rounding the table with outrage twisting her face. Aelin reached forward and pushed her hand against Elide’s hot face. “Fuck, El, you’re burning up. How did you even make it out of your apartment?”

Flapping her hand dismissively, Elide said, “It’s only a cold.”

Aelin gave her a look, “It was a cold last week, but you couldn’t take it easy and insisted on being in court for eight hours a day three days in a row.”

Before she can say something in her defence, Elide’s poor body was wracked with a coughing fit. It rattled the mucus in her lungs, and she didn’t protest when Aelin passed her a box of tissues to wipe her mouth. “I’m fine,” Elide wheezed. “Just tired.”

“Elide—”

“I’m really, really ok,” she insisted. She braced her hands against her desk to rise to her feet. “And I have to be in court in an hour.” For the past month, she’d been busting her ass over this case, and she’d be damned if she didn’t show up all because she had a sniffle.

Aelin guffawed, “You can’t possibly think you can go to court right now.”

Elide arched her brow as if to say Well? She shouldered her leather briefcase. At least today was only the arraignment, so Elide didn’t have to lug an attché of heavy, heavy files to the courthouse. “It’s my job.”

“Let your boyfriend do it,” her friend held a hand up to Elide’s guffaw. “And you look like you’re on death’s door.”

Her cheeks flushed at the mention of Lorcan. Elide looked at the floor, mumbling, “He’s not my boyfriend.” They had only been seeing each other for about a month. Even if Elide could admit to wanting to call him her boyfriend, she didn’t know that he’d like it. She hauled against her office door, then stood still as Aelin walked out. “If it means that much to you,” Elide said, trying to hide how shallow her breaths were, “I’ll take the day off after the arraignment.”

Before Aelin could argue against that, a deep voice interrupted them. “Hey. You ready to go?” Lorcan stopped just outside her office, looking at something on his phone.

Elide pinched the bridge of her nose to alleviate the pressure from the sinus build-up. “Yeah, just a minute.”

Lorcan frowned as soon as she faced him. “What the fuck happened to you,” he asked bluntly. He never was one for meaningless pleasantries, unless it was only them. Elide preferred thinking that what he said then wasn’t meaningless, though.

“It’s called a cold,” Elide informed him.

He pocketed his phone, running a critical eye over her. In a low tone, he asked her again, “Lee, are you sure?” He looked up at Aelin, who shook her head, before looking back at Elide. “You don’t look so good.”

Elide felt far too exhausted to argue anymore, but she dipped her chin once, “I’m sure.”

✵✵✵✵✵

In the underground parking garage, Elide hadn’t put up any fight when Lorcan insisted that he was driving them. 

They were stuck in a classic downtown Orynth gridlock. She slumped to the side, the window cold against her cheek.

“Lochan,” he said, obviously conflicted. “Please just let someone take you home.” He reached over and laid a heavy hand on her thigh. “I’ll take care of the arraignment.”

Elide hacked once, her stomach aching. “What,” she wheezed as she attempted an easy smile, “you still haven’t learned to share, hmm?” Her breath caught in her tender lungs.

“Elide.”

She gripped his hand, squeezing once, “You can take me home after.” He seemed mollified by that, at least enough to let Elide rest in silence. She never let go of his hand either.

Her eyes had only been shut for a minute, she swore, before someone was gently shaking her shoulder. 

Elide gasped, her lungs too feeble to let her get a full breath. She pressed her hand to her chest like it would make her lungs work.

A warm hand rubbed her back, accompanied by a deep voice. “Slow down. Just take slow breaths.” Elide did as Lorcan encouraged her to, and in a couple moments, her lungs had cleared enough. She collapsed against him to recover, breathing as deeply as she could. “We’re here.”

“Mmm, here, where?” she murmured, too comforted by his touch.

He chuckled a bit, “The courthouse.”

“Oh,” she hummed. Then it hit her, and Elide jolted, “Oh, shit!�� She shoved the passenger door open, swinging her legs around. 

Palms flat against the hood of the car, Elide was wracked with feverish chills and glared half-heartedly at him. “Why did you let me fall asleep?” 

“‘lide, it’s ok,” Lorcan told her. “It was only a couple minutes.” He didn’t even let her look at her briefcase and shouldered it himself. 

Elide was sick enough that she let him do it without a fight.

They made their way slowly to the courtroom and met their client outside. Up until today, it had been mainly Elide conversing with the young woman. For all his prowess as an attorney, Lorcan had piss-poor social skills on a good day. However, Elide had to spend all her energy on not passing out and not erupting into another coughing fit, so she let Kaltain suffer through a few awkward minutes with Lorcan.

Luckily, they were summoned quickly. Elide sighed as the air conditioning hit her face. She got to sit, but only for a few minutes before the bailiff announced the judge. 

The courtroom spun as she rose to her feet. Elide swayed, catching herself on the edge of the table. She breathed hard, blinking to centre her vision. Her periphery started to darken. “Lor…” she spoke up weakly, her shaky fingers twisting into the hem of his suit jacket. “I don’t feel- I’m…”

The next thing Elide knew, she was seated outside the courtroom, head between her hands. Her tailor-made blazer laid on the bench next to her because she was burning up. 

Lorcan sat beside her, his body angled towards her. He rubbed her spine up and down, “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“We have work,” Elide protested. 

He was pissed, that was evident enough. “I don’t fucking care. You passed out.” He steered her down to his car, tucked her in the passenger side, and did her seatbelt up for her. Lorcan made sure she was alright before he took his seat behind the wheel.

Elide couldn’t let her duty go, not yet. She gestured behind them as he drove out of the parkade, “We- what about Kaltain?”

“The judge excused us till a later date.”

“Oh.” Elide shrunk a bit in her seat, cheeks burning for a reason besides her fever. What he’d told her earlier finally registered in her scattered mind. “I fainted?”

Lorcan reached for her hand, slipping his fingers through hers. He lifted their joined hands to kiss her knuckles and made Elide smile faintly.

✵✵✵✵✵

In the waiting room, Elide attempted to fill out the form herself, but Lorcan took one look at her shaking hand and said, “C’mere, give me that.” He sat in the uncomfortable chair next to her and let her slump against him. “Alright…” Lorcan perused the form, filling it out with no fuss. 

Elide watched him through slitted eyes. If she wasn’t so sick, she would mention something about his lack of hesitation. At points where Elide was sure he’d pause, ask her for a tidbit of personal information, Lorcan penned in the answer with his neat, concise script.

He wrapped his arm around her after handing the form at the ER desk. Idly, Lorcan kissed the top of her head. “They’ll see us soon, sweetheart.” She hummed, barely conscious against him. 

Lorcan was right, and they were shown into an exam room quickly.

Elide laid on the padded table in a thin hospital gown after the exam. She felt delirious as she scrolled on her phone, not listening to the doctor after it was determined she had bronchitis. Her temperature clocked in at thirty-nine degrees, her blood pressure was worryingly low, and her heart rate was sky-high. In spite of it all, Elide could not care less.

The doctor directed her spiel to Lorcan, giving him explicit instructions Elide was sure he’d follow strictly. He was given a slip of paper with her prescriptions on it. 

After a little while, the doctor left, and Elide griped as she had to redress in her corporate attire. Lorcan sympathised a bit, giving her a kiss on the forehead. She blinked blearily up at him, so damned tired and cold. He ran his fingers through her wavy hair. “I’m going to drop you off, then go get your medicine, alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” Elide rasped, her lungs rattling. “You don’t need to stay with me. I don’t want to bother anyone.”

Lorcan gave her a look of shock. “You’re not bothering me. Why would you think that?” Without waiting for any answer, he continued on, “I told Darrow, and you’re not allowed to even look at a file until you’ve been cleared by the doctors.”

She made a face, turning her head into his chest. Never before had she been this clingy with him, but she’d wanted to be. It wasn’t like Lorcan never offered her unsexual comfort either. “I don’t wanna go to my apartment,” Elide muttered.

He rubbed the back of her neck, soothing her, “You wanna go to mine instead?”

She nodded. She wanted to be surrounded by his comfort, his presence, not return to the pit that was her apartment. 

This time, Lorcan was more patient as he took her back to the car. He didn’t go as far as carrying her, but Elide could tell he wanted to. It didn’t take them long at all to get to his place. 

All of her energy had already been spent, and Elide barely had it in her to walk from the elevator to his door, much less get changed. Lorcan was gentle with her as he exchanged her sweat-damp clothes for a loose t-shirt and a pair of his boxers. 

She climbed into his bed, sighing at the feel of indulgently soft sheets and thick, yet fluffy pillows. Before she could stop him, Lorcan walked out. Elide croaked, too tired to call out. 

He returned after a minute with a thermometre. “Let me take your temp, and then you can sleep, sweetheart.”

Elide rolled her eyes, but she let him stick it beneath her tongue. It beeped after a minute or so, and Lorcan let her recline again. His mouth tightened, “Mmm, still too high.” He brushed her hair back. She hummed, leaning into his touch. “I’ll go get your meds now. What d’you want for dinner?”

“Not hungry.”

“You have to eat something,” he told her, still brushing his hand over her hair. “I’ll go by the deli if you want, get you some soup.” At that, Elide’s eyebrows rose high, and she looked thoughtful. Lorcan bit back a grin. He leaned down to kiss her temple. “Anything else?”

She smiled, “Coffee ice cream.”

“As you wish.”

✵✵✵✵✵

At the pharmacy, Lorcan was somewhat worried that there would be an issue with him picking up Elide’s meds. Yet, everything went smoothly. He went to the deli and to the convenience store for her ice cream. 

When he got home, Elide was still sleeping.

Lorcan let her be for a little while more as he got changed. He put the kettle on to brew some white willow bark tea as well as some honey-lemon. The pharmacist had given him an antibiotic, steroids, an inhaler, and some cough syrup with codeine. Elide wouldn’t like being woken up, but Lorcan had designated himself the role of her nurse, and he’d be damned if she didn’t get better. He knew her infection could turn into pneumonia quickly.

He padded into his bedroom with her collection of meds. Lorcan leaned over her, “‘lide, wake up.”

Elide groaned into his pillow in a very clear ‘fuck off’ gesture. 

Lorcan rubbed her back, coaxing her to roll over. He grinned at her peevish expression, “Hi, baby.”

Again, she groaned and tried to roll back over. 

“Uh-uh, c’mere,” he said, gently stopping her. Lorcan eased her up and wrapped his arm around her. “C’mon, lean on me.” 

As soon as she was seated, another coughing fit stunned her. Elide let a few tears escape, utterly drained. Her joints were throbbing, her head swimming. It hurt to stop coughing, but it hurt more to keep going. 

Lorcan gave her the inhaler first, and she panted around the taste of albuterol in her mouth. It helped her breathe a little more easily, though. “Here,” he picked up the bottle of cough syrup, cracking the lid. He poured out a tablespoon.

Elide sniffed at it distrustingly, then shook her head. “Smells gross.”

“Yeah, but you got that good shit with codeine.”

She rose a brow, looking at him with a small smile. Lorcan chuckled, then Elide dutifully downed the sickly sweet syrup. The synthetic cherry taste made her stick out her tongue in disgust, shuddering, “Nasty.”

“It’ll help,” he told her. 

And he was right. Elide barely made it through her soup, a round of her antibiotics and steroids, and a bite of ice cream before she fell asleep against Lorcan.

✵✵✵✵✵

The next couple days passed in a haze for Elide. Her fever persisted, making her brain fuzzy and unable to properly register what was happening outside of the periphery of her consciousness. Lorcan had relented after thirty-six hours, letting her move from his bed to his living room couch. He’d taken the week off of work to dote on her.

At first, she’d protested that, but he quickly shut that down. Elide decided if he insisted on fussing, then she would take full advantage of it.

Currently, she was curled in the corner of the couch. She sat supported by the armrest because she could breathe better upright. 

Elide coughed into her clenched fist, wheezing. The Twilight Saga: Eclipse played on the TV. She knew it was only because she was miserably ill that Lorcan hadn’t complained when she declared they were to have a Twilight marathon.

Lorcan came over from the kitchen with a new cup of tea. “How you feeling?”

“Horrible,” she said. She shuffled over to make room for him. After he sat, Elide crawled into his lap. She rested her face against his neck, her breathing congested. “This sucks.”

“I know,” he told her. Lorcan helped her sip some of her tea. “You should have a bath or shower after the movie’s done. Steam all that crap out of your head.”

Elide grinned lewdly, her head lolling back against his shoulder. “Someone’s eager to get me naked and wet, eh?” Her laughter was a wet, phlegmy rasp. 

Lorcan arched a brow at her, clearly unimpressed by her brush with comedy. She chuckled to herself as she drank the rest of her tea, and he just played with her hair.

Ten minutes later, Elide nestled closer to Lorcan. Sudden chills had come over her, making her shiver. “You cold?” He bent his head to look at her. 

She nodded.

“Alright.” He shifted her in his arms, then got up with her cradled against his chest. Lorcan carried her to his luxurious bathroom. It had a tub big enough to hold both of them reclined with room to spare, complete with jets and heated tiles.

As he prepared to draw her a bath, Lorcan set Elide down. He got her a fresh towel and hung it on the heated towel rack. Elide watched him with slitted eyes. Over the past few days, he’d done everything in his power to make sure she wanted for nothing. She could hardly move without Lorcan bringing her more tea or her favourite foods. When he brought her her medicine, he gently coaxed her to take it.

Elide didn’t know how to take it. On one hand, she liked this kind of treatment, but on the other, she had no idea what it meant. It could’ve just been because she was sick, so she didn’t want to ask about it.

Lorcan turned away from her as she got undressed, even though he was very well acquainted with her bare body. Elide thought his attempted chivalry was too funny, but she kept her thoughts to herself. He didn’t turn back until she was submerged in the steaming water up to her head. 

He brought her a glass of water so she wouldn’t overheat. He took her temperature again. 

“Better?” Elide croaked. “I feel better than yesterday.” She hadn’t moved all day, trapped in feverish hallucinations between Lorcan waking her up just long enough to take her medicine. 

“Mmm, yeah. Down to thirty-eight.” He smiled briefly. “We’ll break this fever soon.”

Elide lifted her hand, catching his. She smiled at him, “Good.”

After her bath, she felt drowsy, so he carried her back to bed. She took her meds, then reclined against a strategically constructed mound of pillows. Lorcan joined her, winding his warm body around her to ward off any chills. 

✵✵✵✵✵

Her fever stayed down overnight, although Elide woke up feeling like her lungs had been scrubbed with sandpaper. She was alone in bed, Lorcan elsewhere in the apartment. Elide’s entire body ached like she’d just run a marathon.

“Lorcan,” she croaked. “Lor…”

She could hear his footsteps jogging across the apartment before he appeared in the doorway. “Hey, you’re awake.” Lorcan came over to her side with a steaming mug. He helped Elide sit up before handing her the cup of elderberry and lemon tea. As she took a sip, Elide coughed with a whimper. He kissed her temple as he felt the back of her neck. “Temp feels good.”

“It hurts,” Elide mumbled.

“Hurts? Where, baby?” 

With a screwed-up expression, Elide gestured annoyedly at her body. “Everywhere.” 

He hummed, “I’ll get you some Tylenol.” Lorcan moved to get up, but she tightened her hold on his hoodie.

“I don’t want any,” she said. “Can you stay with me? What’re you even doing out there?”

Lorcan winced like he was reluctant to tell her. “I was, uh, just checking on some,” he averted his eyes, “cases.”

Elide’s eyes went wide, and she attempted to surge to her feet. “You’re working? Let me see.” Without much effort, Lorcan stopped her. He eased her back down, ignoring Elide’s complaints. “Lor, please, I just want to look.”

“You barely have enough energy to get through a movie, no way are you doing legal consulting,” Lorcan grumbled. He pinned her in place with a glare.

She wrapped her hands around his arm, leaning in to entice him. “Why don’t you work in here? I’ll behave.”

Lorcan snorted because he didn’t believe for a second that Elide could help herself. “Uh-huh.” She made her eyes wide, not above pouting a bit. He narrowed his gaze at her but cracked after five silent, tense seconds. “Fine. I’ll work in here, if you promise that you won’t even ask to look at anything.”

“I promise,” Elide beamed. She reclined against the headboard with her cup of tea.

Lorcan got up to bring his work into the bedroom. 

For the first while, Elide held up her end of the deal. She sipped her tea and laid next to him, not even stealing a peek at anything. The day before, Lorcan had gone to her apartment to get some of her things, including her laptop. She was watching Ted Lasso while Lorcan worked.

Once she finished her tea, though, Elide grew antsy. First, she closed her laptop and pushed it away. She wound her arms around one of his, resting her cheek against his bicep. “Whatcha doing?” she whispered.

“Working,” he answered flatly. He angled the paper away so she couldn’t see it. “Nothing you’d be interested in.” It was a laughable statement. When it came to jurisprudence, Elide was interested in it all.

Her eyes travelled up his profile. She regarded his glasses, resting on the straight, proud bridge of his nose. Elide smiled against his arm, “You look good in those glasses.”

“Mm.”

Elide hooked her thigh over his hip, ignoring how aching her joints were. She moved closer and figured she could use her feminine wiles to get her way. 

“It’s not going to work.”

She fell back with a whine, coughing once. “Come on! I’m literally asking for it, please?”

Lorcan just shook his head. “Nope.”

Elide stared balefully at the man beside her. He either didn’t notice her glare or was ignoring her, though she suspected it was the latter. He flipped through a thick bundle of paper. Every now and then he’d pause to mark something, or make a note on his legal pad.

She clicked her tongue, half-heartedly kicking his shin. “You’re being mean.”

“You promised you wouldn’t ask me about work,” he replied evenly. “And I don’t fuck sick people.”

Feeling miffed, Elide declared, “It’s funny how you care so much now when four days ago, you were perfectly happy fucking me in this bed.” 

Lorcan shut his eyes with a sigh. He opened them again, looking at her with unending patience. “Baby, four days ago, we did not fuck. I gave you head for, like, five minutes before you passed out for ten hours.”

The way that Lorcan measured her wellness against the length of time that he’d eaten her out had her smirking. She vaguely remembered that night, yet had assumed her foggy memory was due to further activities. Not until now had she linked that gap in her recollection to her illness.

Elide cocked her head to the side, “You stayed with me the whole night?”

“Of course I did,” he frowned. He put his work aside, turning over. Lorcan cupped her jaw and flicked his eyes over her face. “I woke you up and all you said was ‘too tired’ before you were out again.” He wrapped his arms around her, completely abandoning his work to hold her. “I didn’t sleep at all.”

A happy grin curled over her lips. “You were that worried about lil’ old me?”

Lorcan chuckled, idly rubbing her back up and down. “I’d like to think I’m the kind of man who cares about his girlfriend when she’s sick.”

Elide blinked once before her smile softened. She sunk deeper into his side, asking, “Girlfriend, huh?”

His hand paused. He looked down at her. “Well, yeah. We said we weren’t seeing other people, that we didn’t want to; it follows that that would make you my girlfriend.”

Sometimes, most of the time, her favourite thing about Lorcan was his brevity. She hummed a bit, nodding to herself. “What fine reasoning skills you have, Salvaterre.” Tracing a fingertip of his shirt collar, Elide said, “So, I suppose that would make you my boyfriend, then.”

“That conclusion is both sound and valid,” Lorcan answered, his voice lower. He dipped his head to kiss the underside of her jaw. “Love it when you talk logic to me, baby.”

Her laugh vibrated against his lips, and the rasping note reminded him of how ill Elide was. Reluctantly, Lorcan pulled himself up. Their faces were close, almost close enough to share a breath. He so desperately wanted to kiss her.

She could see in his eyes what he wanted. With more restraint than she thought she had, Elide turned her head away. “I’ll get you sick.”

“I can live with that.”

Elide rolled her eyes. She looked at him shrewdly, swayed by the curve of his plush lips. Before her reasoning could win out, Elide gave him a swift peck. “That’s all you get.”

“Tch, cruel thing.”

✵✵✵✵✵

an: @empress-ofbloodshed ok ok its not the one i told u abt but shes coming i swear (also jules i WILL work on that sneaky little mb outtake ok 🥺🤞)

tag list: @sassyhobbits @empress-ofbloodshed @celestialams @the-regal-warrior @shyvioletcat @icecream52 @elentiyawhitethorn @goddess-aelin (lmk if u want to b added/removed)