#do i know what caused this no do i want to stop it god. yeah. i wanna go out and vlimb trees :( i wanna hug my friends

[teaboot]

Me: I appreciate that you keep bringing me tupperware leftovers but you really really shouldn't, you're going to lose a lot of containers

My brother, handing me the 10 thousandth container of leftovers: Oh yeah I forgot to ask when are you bringing those back

Me: You don't want them back.

My brother: What did you do

Me: Better question: what did I NOT do

Him: ...

Me:

Him: Oh my god

Me: Yeah

Him: You haven't been WASHING THEM?

Me: Bruh I'll be honest I haven't even been eating most of them

Him: Oh my god

Him: I have been bringing you lunch since-

Me: Halloween

Him: OH MY GOD

Me: Yeah

Him: It's been- we JUST bought those containers

Me: I'VE BEEN TELLING YOU TO STOP

Him: WHAT THE HELL

Me: I HAVE TOLD YOU SO MANY TIMES TO STOP

Him: IF I DONT FEED YOU, YOU DONT EAT

Me: I AM AN ADULT I PACK FOOD

Him: WHAT FOOD

Me: I DONT KNOW, FUCKING. SPAGHETTI

Him: IN WHAT? IN WHAT? YOU DONT WASH YOUR FUCKING TUPPERWARE

Me: I DON'T *BUY* TUPPERWARE CAUSE I KNOW I WONT WASH IT

Him: WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU CARRY THE SPAGHETTI IN

Me: Bags

Him: What

Me: Ziplock fucking bags

Him: YOU'RE EATING SPAGETTI OUT OF BAGS

Me: IT'S LESS WASTEFUL

Him: HOW is it less wasteful? HOW?? You're throwing out a plastic bag every single day!

Me: It's better than throwing out tupperware!

Him: TUPPERWARE IS REUSABLE

Me: NOT IF YOU DONT WASH IT

Him: WHY THE FUCK NOT

Me: I DONT DO DISHES

Him: THE FUCK YOU MEAN YOU DONT DO DISHES.

Me: I hate doing dishes. You KNOW I hate doing dishes. I have ALWAYS HATED DOING DISHES you KNOW this

Him: WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN EATING OFF OF

Me: PLASTIC BAGS

Him:

Him: You're a fucking trash monster

Me: You wore the same pair of Shrek pants every day for two years

Him: When will you let that go

Me: I will never let it go

Me:

Me: ...thank you for the lasagna

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

respectfully thinking about sparkling scarlet wanda manspreading and y/n shaking in her boots

MHMM yeah i like this thought

---

Y/N was bored, her pen lazily drawing strokes across her notepad, listening to some an drone on and on about... she didn't really know what. She'd stopped paying attention ages ago.

The sound of a throat clearing causes her head to snap up, a sheepish look already on her face. Then, she locks eyes with Wanda's form. Her breaths start to become heavier, her heart fluttering nervously.

Holy. Fuck.

Wanda's dark maroon suit fits her perfectly, and Y/n lets her eyes trail down to where her partner has spread her legs. It's a casual pose, one hand gently resting on her thigh while the other scrawls neat notes on her notepad.

Tilting her head, Wanda pointedly looks at Y/n's notepad, and the young woman quickly blinks, returning her focus to the meeting.

Yet, her eyes can't seem to stop wandering back towards Wanda's form. God, the woman practically oozes dominance, her posture straight and legs spread casually.

It doesn't take long for Y/n to get distracted again, the allure of those legs too strong. She feels her face heat up at the disapproving look Wanda gives her, but she catches a glimpse of the small satisfied smile on the redhead's face.

Later, once everyone has left the office, Wanda resumes her position, instructing Y/n to crawl towards her as she slowly unbuckles her belt.

"Is this what you want?" Wanda asks, her voice low and raspy. "You couldn't stay focused for five minutes, do you know why?"

"Because you're distracting?"

Wanda chuckles, slipping the belt free. "No, darling. It's because you're a needy slut." She bunches the belt up, placing the hard leather under Y/n's chin. "Say it."

"I'm a needy slut," Y/n says, biting back a whimper at the flood of arousal that sweeps through her.

A satisfied look makes its way onto Wanda's face, and she leans back once more. Gesturing to her open legs, she watches Y/n reach for her button with trembling, eager fingers.

"Good girl, you'd better make me cum a few times to make up for distracting me during that meeting with those slutty eyes. God, you couldn't even help yourself, always eyeing me like you wanted to fuck me right then and there."

Y/n moans at that, pulling the zipper down as she slides Wanda's pants off. The woman raises her hips to help her.

"Oh, you liked that didn't you? Do you like the thought of everyone watching you while you serve your Dominant?" Wanda asks, her voice somehow even lower, dripping with need.

Nodding, Y/n feels her face heat up at the words. There's a pool of arousal steadily building in her gut, and she practically pants as Wanda suddenly grabs her face, pressing her against her inner thigh.

"You really are my perfect little slut," she says, her eyes sparkling slightly at Y/n's desperate whine. "Now get to work."

[hhughes]

wait imagining cuddling on quinn’s lap on a rainy day and you’re just so cozy in warm clothes

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ oh to be cuddled up with quinn hughes on a rainy day is everyone’s dream I fear. mentions of quinn’s beard in this cause i’m obsessed🤧

you awoke to the soft patter of rain drops on the bed room window, the spot next to you empty but with a lingering warmth that told you quinn hasn’t been up long.

you enjoy the feel of your warm little cocoon a while longer before deciding to get up, grabbing one of your boyfriend’s hoodies and tugging it over your head as you shuffle out of the bedroom and into the living room where you knew quinn was sitting on one of the couches.

and that’s exactly where you found him, grey sweats and a white tshirt, hair slightly ruffled from sleep and a few weeks worth of scruff on his face. he takes a slow sip of his coffee, sending you a fond smile when he notices your presence.

“mornin baby” he says, lifting his arm that wasn’t holding the cup, beckoning you towards him and he pulls you into his lap as soon as you’re close enough.

“you want a sip?” he asks, holding his coffee out to you and you shake your head.

“no? want me to make you something else?” he asks, thumb softly tracing patterns on your skin beneath the hoodie you’re wearing, and you shake your head again.

“okay,” he says, pulling you in closer and kissing your temple.

“can we just have a cuddle day today. it’s the perfect weather for it,” you ask, glancing outside where the rain pour was only intensifying.

“whatever you want sweetheart. think i’m gonna make soup later, mom’s recipe,” he says and laughs slightly when you perk up excitedly. he knew how much you loved ellen’s soup recipe’s and god knows the woman had a different one for each occasion.

“you warm enough?” he asks when he notices a shiver racking your body. “I can turn up the heat,” he says and moves to get up but your hand on his chest stops him.

“it’s not the cold that’s making me shiver quinn,” you explain and it takes him a moment but eventually he realizes what you mean, his hands tightening around your waist.

“oh,” he says, smirking when you shiver again as he runs his hand up and down your bare spine.

you use his moment of brief distraction to wiggle your cold toes under his leg and he hisses as he feels the cold even through his pants

“jesus woman. you have toes or icicles on those feet,” quinn jokes, smiling as you giggle into his chest

“you love me and my icicles” you retort and laugh more as his beard scratches against your neck as he playfully nips at the skin

“yeah, I do” he says affectionately, pressing another kiss to your head as you both watch the rain fall down for another few minutes as both of you wake up fully.

rainy days were your favourite as long as you could spend them with quinn.

[serialkilluh1996]

𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄™

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Bimboish-female-reader

Warnings; none. Just pure foolery.

Simon loved you. He wouldn't admit it, of course, but you were his favorite subordinate. You were kind and generous, like some princess who belonged in a castle, only to have wound up working as his assistant. He wondered how you even got hired at such a tough place. Maybe you'd sprinkled fairy dust on your application.

You made him weak, merely a facade of the stone cold man he used to be. It's like you had dug a hole in his heart, making a soft spot for yourself to burrow in. You made coming to work more bearable for Simon.

He was eager more willing to get up in the morning cause he knew he'd see you not once, not twice, but a plethora of times throughout the day. He'd see your defined smile and your lively eyes and your bubbly enthusiasm. Simon was convinced it was all just a facade you put on at work. There was no way someone could be this....happy all the time.

You walk into his office, a grin on your face so firm that it pulled the skin from your throat. "You called, Mr. Riley?" "It's lieutenant, sweetheart. But, yeah, I did." He didn't seem as chipper to see you today. He never expressed true happiness anyway. He was just more neutral when you were around. Not today, though. His brows were tense, his eyes were squinted, a tight and precise stare glaring you down like a sniper. "Have a seat." He demands, waving his hand in a come hither motion.

You comply, skipping over to the chair before plopping down and spinning in it. "Don't spend in the chair, please. I'm already on HR's ass about replacing these before they give out."

"Right, of course." You kick out your foot, stopping yourself on the desk, eyes landing directly on his. He looked pretty upset about something.

"I got a complaint about you being out with my men last night. Wanna explain what's going on?" He leans forward accusingly, elbows against the desk and hands under his chin. "Well, we were just out for drinks an–" "Oh, you were out for drinksss?" He says sarcastically, slightly more irritated. "And let me guess, you went home with them too?"

"Of course I did." "Oh, christ." He facepalms, leaning back in his chair, making it creak under his weight.

"Let me explain somethin'. You are MY assistant, you got that? That means your work here is exclusive to me and what I ask you to do. You don't take orders from anyone else here. Not even the captain. Therefore, you have no need or reason to be fraternizing with my men." He lectures you, now visibly angry.

You could tell that going home with them was what pushed him other the edge. "I couldn't let them go alone. They were too drunk to drive." You defended. "Sweetheart, these are grown men. They know their limit and they purposely exceeded it. It's not your responsibility to baby them. They can face the consequences of their actions. They are dangerous individuals that you should distance yourself from. You don't know my men."

"Of course I know them, we see eachother everyday." Simon sighs at your statement. "I'd like to believe that too. but at the end of the day, men always have ulterior motives."

"Ulterior motives?" You tilt your head in confusion. He huffs, muttering under his breath. "Alright, let's say Price, for example. You're this cute girl, smaller than most of the people here. And price is this huge caption, some hairy old weirdo pushing 40. And he invites you over his house. What do you think he wants from you?" His brow arches. "Well, I don't really know John enough to know what he wants."

".....god, why...." it took everything in his will power to hold back his emotions. How could you be so dense? He breathes, steadying himself for the next question.

"Well, would you go or not?" "Yes!" "Yes!?" His voice is strained with shock and distress. "Well, how else am I gonna find out what he wants?" You fold your arms, becoming upset yourself. "Did it not even cross your mind to just ask?!"

"Well, what if he lies?" "What if he lies...." Simon repeats, chuckling under the aggravation, holding back how much you were angering him. How could you be this...slow? "And that's your concern.....tell me, sweetheart...how old are you?" "21." You respond, a small pout in your tone.

"Twenty..one... just...take the week off. I want you to come by my office later on tonight..." "for what?" You ask. "Does it matter if I tell you? What if I lie?" He laughs with exhaustion, and you follow suite. You two were gonna have a looong talk.

You can support me by liking, commenting, reblogging, and/or cashapping me @fundsbrownie. Donations are optional, but much appreciated. Have fun! And remember, take care of yourself.

[giddythekitty]

A little speculation of mine regarding shifting

Disclaimer: Everything I say in this post is only what I think might be blocking some of us in shifting to not-parallels. Take it as you wish but don’t come for me because I warned you.

So, shifting.

We already know social media is an issue, lots of people talked about it before. But I kinda want to dive a little deeper.

Because yeah, social media(including Tumblr) does affect you, but why?(and also a few secondary causes)

Burnout

Usually(me personally) I spend a lot of time doomscrolling on Tiktok or here on Tumblr and looking at things about my s/o or my cc or a friend there or the likes. While it’s not exactly a bad thing to look for ‘motivation’ per se, it kills some intention to shift to that reality because you have a small substitute for it here.

2. AI chatbots

Remember, your subconscious can’t tell the difference between what you see and what you tell it you see. Same goes for conversations or movies or books. Maybe even dreams. It doesn’t differentiate between a real conversation and one with a chatbot, so again, some of that intention is killed.

3. Daydreaming/‘roleplaying’

Am I saying either of those are bad things? No. Am I saying they are absolutely terrible for you if you want to shift? No again. What I’m saying is if you do it too much it might also affect your intention and/or motivation to shift. If you need an example, I’ll give one. I like to listen to music a lot, because it’s a coping mechanism and an escape from ‘the real world’. Usually many of these songs are accompanied by scenes I make up in my head and most of the ones I personally have are related to who I am in one DR but talking to some characters from a different place. Like a crossover of the sorts. There is not a single day where I haven’t listened to at least one song.

4. Looking at other shifters for help

So many shifters have said it before and by god am I tired of saying it too, but shifting is a path of self discovery. Like a puzzle. You’re given the pieces and the final image, but you’re the one who has to put them together, not someone else for you. You already have all you need, wasting time looking for answers to questions like ‘why am I not shifting’ or ‘what else do I have to do to shift’ can become hurtful. Sure, advice from time to time is helpful, but constantly doing it won’t get you anywhere.

Your mom didn’t spoon feed you your entire life, did she? She showed you how to do it yourself when you were old enough to learn, and you had to practice on your own and build up strength in your little toddler hands how to hold a spoon properly so you can eat.

So what do all these have in common and to do with shifting?

Simple: Intention and Motivation. Your will to get there.

Now I’m not saying to stop them all together, but I am saying that they should be cut off— rationed if you will— significantly if it means those of us with said issue want to get rid of it.

Again, it kills the intention to shift. Your conscious can’t tell the difference between what’s real and what’s fake, so it always thinks seeing an edit of your favorite person is really similar to seeing them IRL. From my point of view(mine personally), intention isn’t always there.

Let’s give another example and pretend intention is sugar. Sweetness in general. If you have it sometimes, you’re fine. Maybe you want more, but it’s okay. If you take it in big quantities though, it can become an addiction and lead to diabetes or an insulinic shock.

Now pretend all those things I counted out above as the sugar. You take too much and you might end up hurting yourself at some point or just staying at the same level. Spending all day doomscrolling, looking at other peoole for help, chatting with ais and so on, all while having the ‘it’ll help me shift tonight’ mindset won’t get you too far because you’re just exhausting yourself.

And no one’s saying the change has to be instant. You can’t stop an addiction immediately because it’ll just hurt you more, but you can slowly lessen the dose until it’s minimal or nonexistent. At the end of the day you’re only helping yourself, and what’s a thousand years to an eternity of bliss?

I know this is long, but I feel it needs to be put out there. This feels like important information/advice/take it as you will, and let me know if you have questions and I’ll make sure to answer/clarify them.

Happy shifting and take a break if you need to.

[knifearo]

ultimately when it comes to shipping and fandom space treatment of aspec characters i just don't accept "aro/ace people can still date/have sex" as an answer from nonaspecs. like yeah. mhm. okay. now i think we both know that you're not saying that out of real interest in the diversity of aspec experiences. so you can turn in your seventeen-page essay on why and how you plan to examine this character's aspec identity within the context of a romantic or sexual relationship complete with evidence from canon and peer reviews from multiple aspec people within the next week or i'm putting you in the pit from the edgar allen poe story

[todayisafridaynight]

sequel to this because it won't let me add videos on reblogs but what the fuck. like what the fuck are we seeing the same fucking clip. why the fuck is he allowed to do that.

[batemanofficial]

hello upper middle class northern usamerican tumblr user. i want to play a game. you will notice that you are in a super america convenience store in rural kentucky - you have three minutes to purchase a snack and drink of your choice and make normal small talk with the cashier. however, if you use the word "cryptid" or generally make reference to appalachia and its inhabitants as "wild", uncivilized, or lacking restraint around alcoholic beverages during your time here, i will personally tie you to the chassis of a four wheeler and tip it into the river. live or die. make your choice

[creativebrainrot]

okay rambling time actually

i have so many identity issues (?) no one ever really sees me the way i see my self and i know thats because im currently incapable of allowing myself to act as I am due to my trauma caused by my father.

a n y confidence or personal opinion i dared to state as fact would get interrogated or questions or invalidated and that's resulted in me constantly, involuntarily, cushioning all my language in the tone "or whatever lol something like that lmao idk im just a stupid silly little guy!!! ive never had a thought ever lol lmao !!!!!!!!!" and I genuinely resent that.

its hard to break out of though because I do, also, enjoy purposefully joking like that. I can draw a line between that and my default behavior, its just hard; since the divorce, since his death, since finally being well and truly free, I have had to re-write myself. I'm doing better than ever yeah, this so called chrysalis phase of my life has by all account been awfully stress free, I am grateful for that.

I will never be grateful for being forced in to the molds I was by my father, I hope he rots alone in purgatory. To get back on topic- I am trying to 'fix' this, to rewrite myself into who I really am. It's kinda hard though; when your default is 120% "heehoo i am a sillay little gnome ive never had a thought in my life i am goofy !!!!" then anytime you do speak, plainly, like anyone else would, you feel like all of a sudden you're being "harsh" or "too serious." I know thats not true but part of me does, at least a little, fear that when I've grown into who I want to be the ones I love now won't be there / won't love me the same- I know that's unlikely, I know it won't happen, that if we fade from eachother it'd probably be for other reasons than my speech changing slightly. Because nothing else will change about me I'm not going to actually "get meaner" i'm simply a little frightened that's how it would sound to some.

But, you know. if, self-confidence and the real personality I have coming forward means I lose friends then were we ever really friends? in a way. I don't know but anyway that's only a small fear because I have deadpan phases and deadpan friends/people around me already.

It's the convincing myself to stop panicking everytime I let myself be confident or stoic or sure and secure. The day I've worked through most of the trauma that causes me intense anxiousness and insecurity is the day I can finally thrive and be me.

You don't know how tired I am of cushioning myself in language and tone that says "I am small. I am anxious. I am silly, goofy, tiny, harmless. I am not a threat. I am incapable of being a threat."

because people listen to you. and now that my father is dead and gone I got nothing to be traumatically defensive about like that.

[chiistarri]

what if instead of messaging me in the middle of the night about your stupid fucking girlfriend and your stupid fucking problems with her you actually act like my fucking friend and message me like how you message everyone else in our group

[sludgeguzzler]

ever since the pandemic ended and i started going out and talking to people with the goal of "making friends being happy loving life" ive started o realize that i in fact do not enjoy the stay at home doing nothing not talking to anyone lifestyle and that i love calling ppl and that nature is actually the bomb, all the times id rather stay in bc "im just not an outings guy" is actually bc im like. traumatized or something

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 57

Chapter Highlights (most of the chapter is the highlight lol)

An hour before dawn, the keep and two armies beyond it were stirring.

Rowan had barely slept, and instead lain awake beside Aelin, listening to her breathing.

That the rest of them slumbered soundly was testament to their exhaustion, though Lorcan had not found them again. Rowan was willing to bet it was by choice.

It was not fear or anticipation of battle that had kept Rowan up—no, he'd slept well enough during other wars. But rather the fact that his mind would not stop looping him from thought to thought to thought.

He'd seen the numbers camped outside.

Valg, human men loyal to Erawan, some fell beasts, yet nothing like the ilken or the

Wyrdhounds, or even the witches.

Aelin could wipe them away before the sun had fully risen. A few blasts of her power, and that army would be gone.

Yet she had not presented it as an option in their planning last night.

He'd seen the hope shining in the eyes of the people in the keep, the awe of the children as she'd passed. The Fire-Bringer, they'd whispered. Aelin of the Wildfire.

How soon would that awe and hope crumble today when not a spark of that fire was unleashed? How soon would the men's fear turn rank when the Queen of Terrasen did not wipe away Morath's legions?

He hadn't been able to ask her. Had told himself to, had roared at himself to ask these past few weeks, when even their training hadn't summoned an ember.

But he couldn't bring himself to demand why she wouldn't or couldn't use her power, why they had seen or felt nothing of it after those initial few days of freedom. Couldn't ask what Maeve and Cairn had done to possibly make her fear or hate her magic enough that she didn't touch it.

Worry and dread gnawing at him, Rowan slipped from the room, the din of preparations greeting him the moment he entered the hall. A heartbeat later, the door opened behind him, and steps fell into sync with his own, along with a familiar, wicked scent.

"They burned her."

Rowan glanced sidelong at Fenrys. "What?" But Fenrys nodded to a passing healer.

"Cairn—and Maeve, through her orders."

"Why are you telling me this?" Fenrys, blood oath or no, what he'd done for Aelin or no, was not privy to these matters. No, it was between him and his mate, and no one else.

Fenrys threw him a grin that didn't meet his eyes. "You were staring at her half the night. I could see it on your face. You're all thinking it—why doesn't she just burn the enemy to hell?" Rowan aimed for the washing station down the hall. A few soldiers and healers stood along the metal trough, scrubbing their faces to shake the sleep or nerves.

Fenrys said, "He put her in those metal gauntlets. And one time, he heated them over an open brazier. There…" He stumbled for words, and Rowan could barely breathe. "It took the healers two weeks to fix what he did to her hands and wrists. And when she woke up, there was nothing but healed skin. She couldn't tell what had been done and what was a nightmare." Rowan reached for one of the ewers that some of the children refilled every few moments and dumped it over his head. Icy water bit into his skin, drowning out the roaring in his ears.

"Cairn did many things like that." Fenrys took up a ewer himself, and splashed some into his hands before rubbing them over his face.

Rowan's hands shook as he watched the water funnel toward the basin set beneath the trough.

"Your claiming marks, though." Fenrys wiped his face again. "No matter what they did to her, they remained. Longer than any other scar, they stayed."

Yet her neck had been smooth when he'd found her.

Reading that thought, Fenrys said, "The last time they healed her, right before she escaped. That's when they vanished. When Maeve told her that you had gone to Terrasen."

The words hit like a blow. When she had lost hope that he was coming for her. Even the greatest healers in the world hadn't been able to take that from her until then.

Rowan wiped his face on the arm of his jacket. "Why are you telling me this?" he repeated.

Fenrys rose from the trough, drying his face with the same lack of ceremony. "So you can stop wondering what happened. Focus on something else today." The warrior kept pace beside him as they headed for where they'd been told a meager breakfast would be laid out.

"And let her come to you when she's ready."

"She's my mate," Rowan growled. "You think I don't know that?" Fenrys could shove his snout into someone else's business.

Fenrys held up his hands. "You can be brutal, when you want something."

"I'd never force her to tell me anything she wasn't ready to say." It had been their bargain from the start. Part of why he'd fallen in love with her.

He should have known then, during those days in Mistward, when he found himself sharing parts of himself, his history, that he'd never told anyone. When he found himself needing to tell her, in fragments and pieces, yes, but he'd wanted her to know. And Aelin had wanted to hear it. All of it.

They discovered Aelin and Elide already at the buffet table, grim-faced as they plucked up pieces of bread and cheese and dried fruit. No sign of Gavriel or Lorcan.

Rowan came up behind his mate and pressed a kiss to her neck. Right to where his new claiming marks lay.

She hummed, and offered him a bite of the bread she'd already dug into while gathering the rest of her food. He obliged, the bread thick and hearty, then said, "You were asleep when I left a few minutes ago, yet you somehow beat me to the breakfast table." Another kiss to her neck. "Why am I not surprised?"

Elide laughed beside Aelin, piling food onto her own plate. Aelin only elbowed him as he fell into line beside her.

The four of them ate quickly, refilled their waterskins at the fountain in an interior courtyard, and set about finding armor. There was little on the upper levels that was fit for wearing, so they descended into the keep, deeper and deeper, until they came across a locked room.

"Should we, or is it rude?" Aelin mused, peering at the wooden door.

Rowan sent a spear of his wind aiming for the lock and splintered it apart. "Looks like it was already open when we got here," he said mildly.

Aelin gave him a wicked grin, and Fenrys pulled a torch off its bracket in the narrow stone hallway to illuminate the room beyond.

"Well, now we know why the rest of the keep is a piece of shit," Aelin said, surveying the trove. "He's kept all the gold and fun things down here."

Indeed, his mate's idea of fun things was the same as Rowan's: armor and swords, spears and ancient maces.

"He couldn't have distributed this?" Elide frowned at the racks of swords and daggers.

"It's all heirlooms," said Fenrys, approaching one such rack and studying the hilt of a sword. "Ancient, but still good. Really good," he added, pulling a blade from its sheath.

He glanced at Rowan. "This was forged by an Asterion blacksmith."

"From a different age," Rowan mused, marveling at the flawless blade, its impeccable condition. "When Fae were not so feared."

"Are we just going to take it? Without even Chaol's permission?" Elide chewed on her lip.

Aelin snickered. "Let's consider ourselves swords-for-hire. And as such, we have fees that need to be paid." She hefted a round, golden shield, its edges beautifully engraved with a motif of waves. Also Asterion-made, judging by the craftsmanship. Likely for the Lord of Anielle— the Lord of the Silver Lake. "So, we'll take what we're owed for today's battle, and spare His Lordship the task of having to come down here himself."

Gods, he loved her.

Fenrys winked at Elide. "I won't tell if you don't, Lady."

Elide blushed, then waved them onward. "Collect your earnings, then."

Rowan did. He and Fenrys found armor that could fit them—in certain areas. They had to forgo the entire suit, but took pieces to enforce their shoulders, forearms, and shins. Rowan had just finished strapping greaves on his legs when Fenrys said, "We should bring some of this up for Lorcan and Gavriel."

Indeed they should. Rowan eyed other pieces, and began collecting extra daggers and blades, then sections from another suit that might fit Lorcan, Fenrys doing the same for Gavriel.

"You must charge a great deal for your services," Elide muttered. Even while the Lady of Perranth tied a few daggers to her own belt.

"I need some way to pay for my expensive tastes, don't I?" Aelin drawled, weighing a dagger in her hands.

But she hadn't donned any armor yet, and when Rowan gave her an inquiring glance, Aelin jerked her chin toward him. "Head upstairs-track down Lorcan and Gavriel. I'll find you soon."

Her face was unreadable for once. Perhaps she wanted a moment alone before battle. And when Rowan tried to find any words in her eyes, Aelin turned toward the shield she'd claimed. As if contemplating it.

So Rowan and Fenrys headed upstairs, Elide helping to haul their stolen gear. No one stopped them. Not with the sky turning to gray, and soldiers rushing to their positions on the battlements.

Rowan and Fenrys didn't have far to go.

They'd be stationed by the gates at the lower level, where the battering rams might come flying through if Morath got desperate enough.

On the level above them, Chaol sat astride his magnificent black horse, the mare's breath curling from her nostrils. Rowan lifted a hand in greeting, and Chaol saluted back before gazing toward the enemy army.

The khaganate would make the first maneuver, the initial push to get Morath moving.

"I always forget how much I hate this part," Fenrys muttered. "The waiting before it begins."

Rowan grunted his agreement.

Gavriel prowled up to them, Lorcan a dark storm behind him. Rowan wordlessly handed the latter the armor he'd gathered. "Courtesy of the Lord of Anielle." Lorcan gave him a look that said he knew Rowan was full of shit, but began efficiently donning the armor, Gavriel doing the same.

Whether the soldiers around them marked that armor, whether Chaol recognized it, no one said a word.

"Ready now," Chaol called out to the men of his keep.

This would be it—today. Whether that hope remained or fractured.

Already, the awakening sky revealed two siege towers being hauled toward them. Right to the wall. Far closer than Rowan had last noted when flying overhead last night. Morath, it seemed, had not been sleeping, either.

The ruks would remain back with their own army, driving Morath to the keep. To be picked off here, one by one.

"We have minutes until that first tower makes contact with the wall," Gavriel observed. A scan of the battlements, the soldiers atop them, revealed no sign of Aelin. Lorcan indeed muttered, "Someone better tell her to stop primping and get here." Rowan snarled in warning.

"Archers!" Chaol's bellow rang out. Behind them, down the battlements, bows groaned. Fenrys unslung the bow across his back and nocked an arrow into place.

Rowan kept his own bow strapped across his back, the quiver untouched, Gavriel and Lorcan doing the same. No need to waste them on a few soldiers when their aim might be needed with far worse targets later in the day.

But one of them had to be noted felling soldiers. For whatever it would do to rally their spirits. And Fenrys, as fine an archer as Rowan, he'd admit, would do just fine.

Rowan followed the line of Fenrys's arrowhead to where he'd marked one of the bearers of a siege ladder. "Make it impressive," he muttered.

"Mind your own business," Fenrys muttered back, tracking his target with the tip of his arrow as he awaited Chaol's order.

If Aelin didn't arrive within another moment, he'd have to leave the battlements to find her. What in hell had held her up?

Lorcan drew his ancient blade, which Rowan had witnessed felling soldiers in kingdoms far from here, in wars far longer than this one. "They'll head for the gates when that siege tower docks," Lorcan said, glancing from the battlements to the gate a level below, the small bastion of men in front of it. Trees had been felled to prop up the metal doors, but should a solid enough group of enemy soldiers swarm it, they might get those supports and the heavy locks down within minutes. And open the gates to the hordes beyond

"We don't let them get that far," Rowan said, eyeing up the massive tower lumbering closer. Soldiers teemed behind it, waiting to scale its interior. "Chaol brought the tower down the other day without our help. It can happen again."

"Volley!" Chaol's roar echoed off the stones, and arrows sang.

Like a swarm of locusts, they swept upon the soldiers marching below. Fenrys's arrow found its mark with lethal precision.

Within a heartbeat, another was on its tail. A second soldier at the siege ladder fell.

Where the hell was Aelin—

Morath didn't halt. Marched right over the soldiers who fell on their front lines.

The pulse of human fear down the battlements rippled against his skin. The cadre would have to strike fast, and strike well, to shake it away.

The siege tower lumbered closer. One glance from Rowan had him and his friends moving toward the spot it would now undeniably strike upon the battlements. Close enough to the stairs down to the gate. Morath had chosen the location well.

Some of the soldiers they passed were praying, a shuddering push of words into the frigid morning air.

Lorcan said to one of them, "Save your breath for the battle, not the gods."

Rowan shot him a look, but the man, gaping at Lorcan, quieted.

Chaol ordered another volley, and arrows flew, Fenrys firing as he walked. As if he were barely bothered.

Still, the whispered prayers continued down the line, swords shaking along with them.

Up by Chaol, the soldiers held firm, faces solid.

But here, on this level of the battlements ... those faces were pale. Wide-eyed.

"Someone better say something inspiring," Fenrys said through gritted teeth, firing another arrow. "Or these men are going to piss themselves in a minute."

For a minute was all they had left, as the first siege tower inched closer.

"You've got the pretty face," Lorcan retorted. "You'd do a better job of it."

"It's too late for speeches," Rowan cut in before Fenrys could reply. "Better to show them what we can do."

Rowan steadied his breathing, readying his magic to rip through Valg lungs. He'd fell a few with his blades first. To show how easily it could be done, that Morath was desperate and victory would be near. The magic would come later.

The siege tower groaned as it slowed to a stop.

Just as the wall under them shuddered at its impact, Fenrys whispered, "Holy gods."

Not at the bridge that snapped down, soldiers teeming in the dark depths inside.

But at who emerged from the keep archway behind them. What emerged.

Rowan didn't know where to look. At the soldiers pouring out of the siege tower, leaping onto the battlements, or at Aelin.

At the Queen of Terrasen.

She'd found armor below the keep. Beautiful, pale gold armor that gleamed like a summer dawn. Holding back her braided hair, a diadem lay flush against her head. Not a diadem, but a piece of armor. Part of some ancient set for a lady long since buried.

A crown for war, a crown to wear into battle. A crown to lead armies.

There was no fear on her face, no doubt, as Aelin hefted her shield, flipping Goldryn in her hand once before the first of Morath's soldiers was upon her.

A swift, upward strike cleaved the Morath grunt from navel to chin. His black blood sprayed, but she was already moving, flowing like a stream around a rock.

Rowan launched into movement, his blades finding their marks, but still he watched her.

Aelin slammed her shield against an oncoming warrior, Goldryn slicing through another before she plunged the blade into the soldier she'd deflected.

She did it again, and again.

All while heading toward that siege tower. Unhindered. Unleashed.

A call went down the line. The queen has come.

Soldiers waiting their turn whirled toward them. Aelin took on three Valg soldiers and left them dying on the stones.

She planted her line before the gaping maw of that siege tower, right in the path of those teeming hordes. Every moment of the training she'd done on the ship here, on the road, every new blister and callus—all to rebuild herself for this.

The queen has come.

Goldryn unfaltering, her shield an extension of her arm, Aelin glowed like the sun that now broke over the khagan's army as she engaged each soldier that hurtled her way.

Five, ten—she moved and moved and moved, ducking and swiping, shoving and flipping, black blood spraying, her face the portrait of grim, unbreaking will.

"The queen!" the men shouted. "To the queen!"

And as Rowan fought his way closer, as that cry went down the battlements and Anielle men ran to aid her, he realized that Aelin did not need an ounce of flame to inspire men to follow.

That she had been waiting, yanking at the bit, to show them what she, without magic, without any godly power, might do.

He'd never seen such a glorious sight. In every land, every battle, he had never seen anything as glorious as Aelin before the throat of the siege tower, holding the line.

Dawn breaking around them, Rowan loosed a battle cry and tore into Morath.

This first battle would set the tone.

It would set the tone, and send a message.

Not to Morath.

Impress us, Hasar had said.

So she would. So she'd picked the golden armor and her battle-crown. And waited until dawn, until that siege tower slammed into the battlements, before unleashing herself.

To keep the men here from breaking, to wipe away the fear festering in their eyes.

To convince the khaganate royals of what she might do, what she could do. Not a threat, but a reminder.

She was no helpless princess. She had never been.

Goldryn sang with each swipe, her mind as cool and sharp as the blade while she assessed each enemy soldier, their weapons, and took them down accordingly. She dimly knew that Rowan fought at her side, Gavriel and Fenrys battling near her left flank.

But she was keenly aware of the mortal men who leaped into the fray with cries of defiance.

They'd made it this far. They would survive today, too. And the khaganate royals would know it.

Galloping hooves drowned out the battle, and then Chaol was there, sword flashing, driving into the unending tide that rushed from the tower's entrance.

"To Lord Chaol! To the queen!"

How far they both were from Rifthold.

From the assassin and the captain.

Arrows rose from the army beyond the wall, but a wave of icy wind snapped them into splinters before they could find any marks. A dark blur plunged past, and then Lorcan was at the siege tower's mouth, his sword swinging so fast Aelin could barely follow it. He battled his way across the metal bridge of the tower, into the stairwell beyond. Like he'd fight his way down the ramps and onto the battlefield itself. Below, a boom began. Morath had brought in their battering ram.

Aelin smiled grimly. She'd bring them all down. Then Erawan. And then she'd unleash herself upon Maeve.

At the opposite end of the field, the khagan's army pushed, gaining the field step by step.

Not helpless. Not contained. Never again.

Death became a melody in her blood, every movement a dance as the tide of soldiers pouring from the tower slowed. As if Lorcan was indeed forcing his way down the interior.

Those who got past him met her blade, or Rowan's. A flash of gold, and Gavriel had slaughtered his way into the siege tower as well, twin blades a whirlwind.

What Lorcan and the Lion would do upon reaching the bottom, how they'd dislodge the tower, she didn't know. Didn't think about it.

Not from this place of killing and movement, of breath and blood. Of freedom.

Death had been her curse and her gift and her friend for these long, long years. She was happy to greet it again under the golden morning sun.

[slovo-theshattered-onion]

people should start inventing their own numerologies and comparing notes. slash s r s

[none-tadashi-left-hiro]

hmmmm. Sad

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ come and put your name on it ❞

special treatment : lap edition

☾₊‧⁺...ft. : gojo satoru + geto suguru + nanami kento + fushiguro toji + hakari kinji

☾₊‧⁺...cw : cockwarming, somnophilia, dirty talk, grinding + dry humping, fingerfucking, overstimulation, praise kink, edging, oral fixation, satoru's silly pet names, suguru being smug, kento being a desperate man, toji being toji, kinji being a bully

✧ g. satoru : sometimes gojo knows he fucks you too good to the point you can't think after, something he brags about to you all the time. but when you snuggle up to him, still stuffed with his cock and warm with his cum, he can't help but run his hands all over you. and when he realizes you fell asleep on his dick, his heart squeezes and his cock throbs hard.

"pretty angel, did you fall asleep? oh, that's just precious...you're making my heart squeeze, i wish i had my phone, you look so cute like this." "did you say my name? dreaming about me? god, you're so precious, i could just fuck you like this...shit, don't fuckin' squeeze on me like that, are you having a wet dream right now? god, i love you so fucking much." "aww, my little mochi is so cute! look at youuu, you're gushin' all over the place. messy fucking pussy too small to keep my cock and all my cum inside you." "mm, fuck, pretty thing. you wakin' up? hi pretty girl...oooh, fuck, d-did you just cum? holy fuck, c'mon, baby, on your back, lemme fuck you, princess, let 'toru make you cum again, yeah?”

✧ g. suguru : suguru's softly cooing at you when you sleepily walk into the living room, whining to him that you had a dream and you wanted him to 'fix the problem he caused.' all he can do is just chuckle at how childish and bratty you can be as his hands are moving up and down your sides while he grinds up into you.

"you're such a brat, you know that right? always blaming me for your dreams. it's not my fault you can't stop thinking about how good i fuck you." "hmm? ooh, i see...you keep having dreams of me cumming inside you, hm? are you trying to say something, princess? d'you want me to start breeding you?" "i didn't say stop moving, did i? or do you need me to do all the work? heh, so spoiled, i've spoiled you absolutely rotten." "i know, but just cum once like this, won't you? if you do, i promise i'll fill your cute pussy with my cum, okay? mhm, promise, princess, i'll give you what you need."

✧ n. kento : nanami loves having you close to him, especially when you sit in his lap. it lets him nuzzle his nose into your neck, pressing little kisses where he can while your legs are spread over his strong thighs, his thick fingers leisurely pumping in and out of your needy hole, chuckling against your skin whenever you jolt.

"honey, have i mentioned how gorgeous you are? you look so beautiful like this...spread open and wanting, just for me." "you're sucking my fingers in so well. look at that...do you think you can take a third?" "it's so messy. look at what you've done to my fingers, honey, they're soaked. clean them off for me, i want you to taste yourself before i put them back in. maybe tonight we can make you squirt, hm? do you wanna try, darling?" "you think you're going to cum again? poor thing, your little cunt is so greedy, she just wants to cum over and over again on my fingers...is my cock not good enough for you, mm? aww, don't pout, i'm just teasing you, darling." "i know, i know, it's too much, but you can take it. be my good girl, just take it and keep cumming until you can't anymore."

✧ f. toji : sitting on toji's lap is, in his mind, an invitation for him to run his hands all over you. his cock is already hard in his sweats, but he's subdued the second you get comfortable and slowly grind against him, groaning when you press sweet kisses into his neck.

"tch, are you gonna let me fuck your thighs t'night? pretty please? yeah, that's right, i'm askin' nicely. why? don't play stupid, doll, you know what they do to me." "shit...keep moving those hips, sweetheart, you feel so fuckin' good like this." "god, i can feel that pretty pussy leaking through my sweats. big bad toji make you that fuckin' wet, mama? y'like grinding that clit on my dick through my pants? dirty fucking girl." "mmh, you keep tugging my hair like that and I'm not even gonna take you to the bedroom, i will fuck you into this damn couch, woman.” "listen here, wifey, I'll wreck your cunt until you can't think about anything but me inside you. hell, I'll ruin this stupid couch in the process, i don't give a fuck about stainin' it."

✧ h. kinji : when you sit on kinji's lap, it's when he's watching a fight on tv. you can tell it's not going how he wants it to go, the toothpick between his teeth being gnawed on. when you make eye contact with him, he just raises an eyebrow, one of his hands squeezing your hip.

"cupcake, do me a favor and get on my dick before i get up and give us a reason to get a new tv." "hey, hey, don't move yet, let me see if he lands this punch...don't whine like that before i put my fingers in that pretty little mouth t' shut you up." "you always squeeze so tight when i press down on your tongue like this...pretty thing likes that shit, doesn't she? go on, fuck yourself on my dick while you drool all on my fingers like a slut." "mm, shit, baby, i can't focus on that bullshit fight, lemme help you. yeah, thaaaat's it, let your boy fuck you nice and deep, make ya cream, juuuust like this."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[nochepsicodelica]

NSFW

Sitting on Toji's lap, watching TV together as he knocks back a couple beers. He keeps the bottle nestled between your legs when he's not sipping on it, his arm resting on your upper thigh area while his other hand mindlessly rubs and grabs at your tummy over your shirt. Every once in a while he leans in close to press a kiss to your temple and checks in on you. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, but he's pretty well behaved for being intoxicated, you think.

You don't know if he's occasionally rubbing the bottle against your crotch on purpose or if it's something he's unknowingly doing. Maybe he's fidgeting with it to give his hand something to do. You scoot back, away from the bottle, just incase he isn't doing it on purpose.

He stills the movement of his hand when you shift in his lap, moving away from where he keeps his bottle. "Am I making you uncomfortable?" He asks, his warm breath fanning against your ear. His free hand moves down to squeeze your inner thigh, the joint of his thumb grazing your pelvis.

"No, you're okay," you respond, putting your hand on his, turning briefly to smile at him before facing the TV again.

Toji progressively moved the bottle so that it ended up back between your thighs, the body of it rubbing up against you again, causing you to jolt at the sensation.

"What's wrong, pretty?" he murmurs, into your ear, his lips curled into a devilish smirk.

"The bottle..." you mumble, coy about addressing what's had your firm attention for a while now.

He peeks down at the evidence, his chin resting on your shoulder as he looks at the way the bottle is pushed snug up against your cunt.

"You're dirty, mama," he teases, a deep chuckle rumbling through his chest. "You're liking it, aren't you?"

"What? You're the one trying to get me off with your-"

"Shh..." once again you're met with a whiff of the alcohol lingering on his breath. You can taste remnants of it through the sloppy, wet kisses he steals from you. "You're liking it, aren't you?" He repeats, grinning at your flustered expression. "Look at her, look at her," he says, which only makes your cheeks burn even more, when he laughs, mockingly. "You are."

You sigh. He may be drunk, but he's not wrong.

"Say it, baby," he purrs, into your neck. "Say it and i'll make you cum sooo hard." He teases you with a rub of the bottle against your clothed clit.

"Fucking hell," you mutter under your breath, feeling pathetic for giving in to his game. "Fine. I liked it. It felt good. Is that what you wanna hear?"

"Fuck yeah. Wanna make my pretty girl cum in her shorts," he says, immediately rubbing the body of the bottle against your crotch.

"I-If i'm dirty..." you release a sharp breath. "Then you're a pervert."

"Mhm. All for you, sweetheart." He palms at your chest over your tank top, squeezing while moving his hand in circles. He can feel your stiffened nipples through the thin material. He takes turns rolling the clothed buds between fingers to make sure that they stay stiff, but also because he knows how turned on you get when he plays with your breasts. "Such a dirty girl," he says, sultrily, into your ear. "Letting me get you off with a beer bottle. Little freak." You arch off his chest, in his lap, a short barrage of whimpers reaching his ears. He pulls you back into him, his arm firm over your chest. "Doesn't take away from how pretty you are." His voice is so deep, you can feel it in your guts.

"Toji-"

"No, it fuckin' doesn't," he growls, into your ear. "'S why i've always got my hands on you, tryna fuck like some filthy dog. Mmm... baby, just can't help myself around you. I'm not gonna stop. Can't do it."

You whimper, writhing against him as he continues to grind the bottle against your cunt. His rambling shouldn't be as hot as it is, but god, you don't want him to shut up. It's fueling how close you are to cumming because of how he maneuvers the stupid bottle.

"You wet for me? Soaked?"

"Fuck- Yes, Toji," you moan, hands gripping at his thighs.

He hums, content with your response. "Yeah? Gonna cum?" His hand goes beneath your shirt to feel your bare skin on it. He drives his palm up your torso, towards your chest, his fingertips meeting your left nipple, rubbing until it's stiffened like before.

"Mhm," you nod. "Please... Please!"

"Such a loud, needy little thing. I can feel your heat making its way up the bottle." He laughs, again, like he's making fun of you for being so turned on for his perverse actions. Like he wasn't the one who started this. Scarred lips attach to the nape of your neck, kissing gently like he's apologizing for being mean. "Cum for me, baby," he says, speeding up the movement of the bottle against your clit. He rolls your nipple between his fingers, and your body instantly reacts.

"Oh fuck, T-Toji, fuck, oh my god," you cry out, falling into the void of pleasure produced by this unorthodox object. You trap the bottle between your thighs and grind against it, greedily taking control of your pleasure. Toji holds the bottle still and just watches you, his tired eyes absorbing every one of your movements and expressions as you shamelessly ride out your entire orgasm.

"Fuck..." you whimper, eyes shut as your hips stutter to a halt.

He pulls his hand out of your shirt, entirely speechless for a few seconds. You didn't even notice, too far into your post orgasm bliss.

Toji sighs, feeling as tired as you because of the alcohol. He turns the TV off and takes the bottle out from between your thighs, setting it down on the ground before putting your dazed self into a more comfortable position to sleep in—curled up against his chest. "You're so hot, baby... Too bad I can't fuck you like this," he mumbles, tiredly.

"Mhm," you hum, already dozing off. Toji lays his head back on the couch cushion and shuts his eyes. In less than a minute, he falls asleep, too.