#he said “after you my lady”

[dsauwishfulfillment]

Girl help my housemate is judging me really meanly for having sex with a guy that (accidentally!!) misgendered me in front of them (apologized immediately)

[luck-of-the-drawings]

OH ARTHUR BENNETT.. such a gorgeous and intriguing character. terribly burdened by a GRUESOME set of crimes, his light suffocated by a HEAVY century of GUILT. so tragic, so dark and broody, and yet PAINFULLY awkward in any social setting ever

[todayisyourturntolose]

the horrible histories point/click game but its just the part with mat in drag bcuz guess who downloaded an entire flash game catalog just so they could play this game and get to this bit

[thewingedwolf]

deeply annoying when people say quinn would target leah over her not reciprocating his crush, he already knows that and he’s known it for weeks. i think people are being overdramatic about leah, i think it’s certainly a,,, idk mean strategy to just gaslight him about how she hasn’t been consistently talking shit about him, exaggerating what he says to make him seem worse, and saying she’s gonna nominate him, but like…so is the rat game quinn was trying to play, so is blindsiding people, like it’s a mean game, there’s a reason most people need therapy after this game even during seasons where nothing Genuinely Awful happened.

but targeting her Specifically bc she doesn’t return his crush IS douchey, and it’s also Not what he’s doing or would do if he found out what she’s been saying bc again he already knows she isn’t interested in him romantically. what he doesn’t know is that she has no interest in working with him & seems to dislike him enough that she doesn’t even want to be in jury with him. i don’t think either of them have done anything wrong, they just don’t vibe the way turner & jasmine didn’t or the way bowie jane didn’t vibe with the rest of bbb, and “we don’t vibe” is a perfectly legitimate reason for them to be targeting each other, you don’t want your fucking opps in the jury now do you??

[cuteniarose]

Me: *creates an OC*

Me: *heavily implies OC will meet a bad fate*

OC: *meets bad fate*

Me:

(Alternatively, I may have started it, but @katkastrofa enabled me and now I’m losing my mind)

[kashilascorner]

What were the prose Tristan authors eating for lunch when they wrote Mark and Tristan's dynamics seriously it's so toxic but also like they keep hanging around each other? Toxic exes except family instead of lovers

[arttsuka]

.

[bluebellhairpin]

just had the most 'this isn't my life' moment ever but like in a good way. wtf.

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 64

Chapter; Highlights

Hours later, Yrene was still shaking.

At the disaster they'd narrowly avoided, at the deaths she'd witnessed before that wave had struck, at the power of the queen on the plain. The power of the prince who had prevented the ensuing steam from boiling alive any caught in its path.

Yrene had thrown herself back into healing during the chaos since. Had left the royals and their commanders to oversee the aftermath, and had returned to the Great Hall. Healers drifted onto the battlefield, searching for those in need of help.

All of them, every single person in the keep or the skies or on the battlefield, kept glancing toward the now-empty gap between two mountain peaks. Toward the flooded, decimated city, and the demarcation line between life and death. Water and debris had destroyed most of Anielle, the former now trickling toward the Silver Lake.

A vision of what would have been left of them, were it not for Aelin Galathynius.

She'd been asked to inspect the queen when she'd been carried in to a private chamber by Prince Rowan, the two of them borne off the plain by Nesryn. Yrene hadn't been able to stop her hands from shaking as she'd hovered them over Aelin's unconscious body.

There had been no sign of harm beyond a few already-healing cuts and slices from the battle itself.

Nothing at all beyond a sleeping, tired woman.

Who held the might of a god within her veins.

Yrene had then inspected Prince Rowan, who looked in far worse shape, a sizable gash snaking down his thigh. But he'd waved her off, claiming he'd come too near a burnout, and just needed to rest as well.

So Yrene had left them, only to tend to another.

—

To Lorcan, whose injuries ... Yrene had needed to summon Hafiza to help her with some of it. To lend her power, since Yrene's had been so depleted.

The unconscious warrior, who had apparently tumbled right off Farasha as he and Elide had passed through the gates, didn't so much as stir while they worked on him.

That had been hours ago. Days ago, it felt.

Yes, she needed to rest.

But a horn, clear and bright, blared from outside.

Everyone halted-then rushed to the windows. Yrene's smile grew as she, too, found a place to peek out over the battlefield.

To where the rest of the khagan's army, Prince Kashin at its front, marched toward them.

Thank the gods. Everyone in the hall muttered similar words.

From the keep, an answering horn sang its welcome.

Not just one army had been spared here today, Yrene realized as she turned back to the water station. If that wave had reached Kashin.

…

Lucky. They had all been so, so very lucky.

Yet Yrene wondered how long that luck would last.

If it would see them through the brutal march northward, and to the walls of Orynth itself.

Lorcan let out a low groan as he surfaced from the warm, heavy embrace of darkness.

"You are one lucky bastard."

Too soon. Too damn soon after hovering near death to hear Fenrys's drawl.

Fenrys's smirk was a slash of white.

"You've been out for a day. I drew the short stick and had to look after you."

A lie. For whatever reason, Fenrys had chosen to be here.

Lorcan thumped his head back on the pillow. "Elide." Her name was a rasp on his tongue.

The last he remembered, they'd ridden through the gates, Aelin Galathynius's unholy power spent. Then oblivion had swept in.

"Helping with the healing in the Great Hall," Fenrys said, stretching out his legs before him.

Lorcan closed his eyes, something tight in his chest easing.

"Well, since you're not dead," Fenrys began, but Lorcan was already asleep.

Lorcan awoke later. Hours, days, he didn't know.

The candle was still burning on the narrow windowsill, down to its base. Hours, then.

He didn't care. Not when the dim light revealed the delicate woman lying facedown on the end of his cot, the lower half of her body still on the wooden chair where Fenrys had been. Her arms cradled her head, one outstretched toward him. Reaching for his hand, mere inches from hers.

Elide.

Her dark hair spilled across the blanket, across his shins, veiling much of her face.

Wincing at the lingering ache in his body, Lorcan stretched his arm just enough to touch her fingers. They were cold, their tips so much smaller than his. They contracted, pulling away as she sucked in a sharp, awakening breath.

Lorcan savored every feature as she grimaced at a crick in her neck. But her eyes settled on him. She went still as she found him staring at her, awake and utterly in awe of the woman who had ridden through hell to find him ...

Tired. She looked spent, yet her chin remained unbowed.

Lorcan had no words. He'd given her everything on the back of that horse anyway.

But Elide asked, "How do you feel?" Aching. Exhausted. Yet finding her sitting at his bedside... "Alive," he said, and meant it.

Her face remained unreadable, even as her eyes dipped to his body. The blanket had slid down enough to reveal most of his torso, though it still hid the scarred-over wound in his abdomen. Yet he'd never felt so keenly naked.

It was an effort to keep his breathing steady beneath her sharp-eyed gaze. "Yrene said you would have died, if they hadn't gotten to you when they did."

"I would have died," he said, voice like gravel, "if you hadn't braved hell to find me." Her gaze lifted to his. "I made you a promise."

"So you said."

Was that a hint of color stealing across her pale cheeks? But she didn't balk. "You said some interesting things, too."

Lorcan tried to sit up, but his body gave a burst of pain in protest.

Elide explained, "Yrene warned that though the wounds are healed, some soreness will linger."

Lorcan gritted his teeth around the sharp stab in his back, his stomach. He managed to get onto his elbows, and deemed that progress enough. "It's been a while since I was so gravely injured. I'd forgotten what an inconvenience it is."

A faint smile tugged on her mouth.

His heart halted. The first smile she had given him in months and months. Since that day on the ship, when he'd touched her hand as they'd swayed in their hammocks.

Her smile faded, but the color on her cheeks lingered. "Did you mean it? What you said." He held her stare. Let some inner wall within him come crumbling down. Only for her. For this sharp-eyed, cunning little liar who had slipped through every defense and ironclad rule he'd ever made for himself. He let her see that in his face. Let her see all of it, as no one had ever done before. "Yes."

Her mouth tightened, but not in displeasure.

So Lorcan said softly, "I meant every word." His heart thundered, so wildly it was a wonder she couldn't hear it. "And I will until the day I fade into the Afterworld."

Lorcan didn't breathe as Elide gently reached out her hand. And interlaced their fingers. "I love you," she whispered.

He was glad he was lying down. The words would have knocked him to his knees. Even now, he was half inclined to bow before her, the true owner of his ancient, wicked heart.

"I have loved you," she went on, "from the moment you came to fight for me against Vernon and the ilken." The light in her eyes stole his breath. "And when I heard you were somewhere on that battlefield, the only thing I wanted was to be able to tell you that. It was the only thing that mattered."

Once, he might have scoffed. Declared that far bigger things mattered, in this war especially. And yet the hand grasping his ... He'd never known anything more precious.

Lorcan ran his thumb over the back of her hand. "I am sorry, Elide. For all of it."

"I know," she said softly, and no regret or hurt dimmed her face. Only clear, unwavering calm shone there. The face of the mighty lady she was growing into, and had already become, and who would rule Perranth with wisdom in one hand and compassion in the other.

They stared at each other for minutes. For a blessed eternity.

Then Elide untangled their hands and rose. "I should return to help Yrene."

Lorcan caught her hand again. "Stay."

She arched a dark brow. "I'm only going to the Great Hall."

Lorcan caressed his thumb over the back of her hand once more. "Stay," he breathed.

For a heartbeat, he thought she'd say no, and was prepared to be fine with it, to accept these last few minutes as more of a gift than he'd deserved.

"Say it," she whispered, fingers stilling in his hair. Lorcan opened his eyes, finding her gaze. "I love you."

"Yrene said you might always have this," she said, her hand mercifully falling away.

"Then it will be the scar I treasure most."

Fenrys would laugh until he cried to hear him speak this way, but Lorcan didn't care. To hell with the rest of them.

Another one of those small smiles curved her lips, and Lorcan's hands tightened in the sheets with the effort it took not to taste that smile, to worship it with his own mouth.

But this new, fragile thing humming between them ... He would not risk it for all the world.

Elide, thank the gods, had no such worries.

None at all, it seemed, as she lifted a hand to his cheek and ran her thumb along it. Every breath was an effort of control.

Lorcan held absolutely still as she brought her mouth to his. Brushed her lips across his own.

She pulled back. "Rest, Lorcan. I'll be here again when you wake."

Anything she asked, he'd give her.

Anything at all.

Too shaken by that soft, beautiful kiss to bother with words, he lay back down.

But until then, he wanted her here. Sleeping at his side, where he might watch over her. As she had watched over him.

Elide seemed to read that on his face, and her cheeks reddened further. "Later, then," she breathed, limping to the door.

Lorcan sent a flicker of his power to wrap around her ankle. The limp vanished.

A hand on the knob, she gave him a small, grateful nod. "I missed that."

He heard the unspoken words as she disappeared into the busy hall.

I missed you.

Lorcan allowed himself a rare smile.

[paimonial-rage]

What trope you will NEVER write ?

While there are tropes that I really don't care for (Enemies to Lovers, Childhood Friends to Lovers), I don't really think there is a trope that I wouldn't write? I think the only thing that would come close is Fake Dating. Not because I have anything against it, I just don't see how it would ever take a part in any of the fics I would want to write. And there also may be a bit of a skill issue with that one too. LOL

But as a whole, I don't really write according to tropes. I don't really care for tropes as a whole. Some of my fics may contain tropes, but it's not purposeful. I just want to tell a story in the way I see fit. If it contains a trope, that's because it fit in with the story I wanted to tell. I always have goals when I write things? I want the fic to achieve certain things. But like fulfilling a trope is never one of them. Idk. I don't read for the trope. I read to read a good story. And that's how I write.

[dysaniadisorder]

i hate how normalized military is in the us im gonna rip my hair out

[i-appear-misssing]

I just had the horrible thought that I need to fall in love because having devastating crushes on beautiful, competent, authoritative women that I desperately want to please is exhausting and I need it to stop

[perilegs]

i am my father's son (enjoyer of irl sidequests)

[yousaytomato]

didn't say Thank You to the Bus driver #passiveaggressive #microaggression #mean #meanie #bitch4lyfe

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"I admit, I, uh...I couldn't really sleep at all today," Randall confessed with a shy smile, as he dug into his slice: Though part of that was him still getting used to the switch from diurnal to nocturnal, he was sure, his excitement over his impending wedding kept him up like a kid on Christmas Eve. More than once did he roll over and stare at the clock, hoping it would be nightfall; more than once did he eye the curtains, wishing the sun's rays would vanish, and leave the skies dark.

"All good things to those who wait," June smiled lightly, a remark that Randall couldn't help but think to himself wryly, Ma, you have no idea...!

"Mmm, good cake, Junie!" Wilhelm complimented, as he licked the frosting from his fork: June had been doing a lot of experimenting with cooking with blood (something she never thought she'd do, but nevertheless was willing to try), working out the best ratios of it to the ingredients she used, with her crowning achievement thus far being the wedding cake. At her husband's praise, June's cheeks flared pink, saying, "Thank you, Wil. Mixing it with the wet ingredients before adding it all to the dry seems to work the best-even if it does turn the batter a dark pink."

A lot of foods she'd been making as of late had turned dark pink, bordering on red when she added the necessary secret ingredient and mixed it all together: Soup stocks, rice dishes, stews, they all came out in varying different shades, very different from what they'd been before.

Ah, but she accepted that change and, for what it was worth, her cooking ventures had been paying off: She and her family were able to get what they needed to live, while still being able to enjoy the old foods they loved. It was a nice compromise they'd made, and she was happy to see it'd paid off well for her son and daughter-in-law's wedding cake.

[larryrickard]

i had a dream that i made little cards that say "THEY!" on them that i handed out to people at work who got my pronouns wrong, immediately after they got it wrong. and in smaller text (or on the back) it said "i don't want an apology, i want you to do better" or "don't say you're sorry, DO BETTER" and ..... i kind of want to do it. maybe i'll get some moo cards made lmao

various scenarios included:

me slamming it down on a desk in front of them.

instead i had stickers, would slowly peel one off while they watched, and stick it on it on them.

handing out a quarter sheet piece of paper based on the 'i caught being good' tags we'd get in kindergarten which said 'i got caught misgendering hallie/my coworker'. it would have their name and date on it and a giant 🙁 face. i had them as a pad of paper and would hold up a finger to say 'wait a second', dramatically pull it out of my back pocket, take my pen out of another pocket, slowly fill it out in front of them, and hand it to them while staring them in the eyes.

getting a whiteboard for the outer side of my cubicle wall that said '[days] since i was misgendred' (with a bonus by saying 'last offender: [name]'

i also dreamt that i got into trouble for it because i was making people feel bad and was 'creating a hostile work environment'. i was just like.... okay and how do you think i feel? and my boss shut up real fuckin quick. dunno if that would be the case irl but if that does happen i can only dream.