#he’d go through it again

[yaksha-lover]

“malleus would just find a way to extend your lifespan.”

what if he didn’t, though. what if it didn’t matter. what if he knew how few years you have left in comparison to his own, and chose to love you anyway. no conditions. no extension of life. no easy way out.

because love is a commitment to him; one to joy and one to suffering, both of which he has accepted as consequences to his choice.

because it doesn’t truly matter; he knows humans are fragile, even the few decades most of them live for aren’t guaranteed. but the same is true of beastmen, of merpeople, and of fae.

the temporal nature of your life and your love only makes him more certain as to his feelings; he’d face a lifetime of ache for a fraction of time bathing in your sunlight.

[ciderjacks]

despite Laios low self esteem making him think that if he’d been eaten, Chilchuck and Marcille wouldn’t have helped Falin,

theres a small part of me that thinks the reason Chilchuck stayed with the party and went back in the dungeon in the first place was because he didn’t want to leave Laios alone. That Laios was moreso the reason he stayed.

[turtleblogatlast]

There’s a very sad lack of Señor Hueso & Leo bonding fics out there and I will never stop craving them. Big love to Reluctant Uncle Boneman and his Annoying But Unfortunately Endearing Not Nephew.

[milolunde]

We all know Timmy is Wanda’s mama’s boy but we need to keep in mind he’s still Cosmo’s kid too and that Cosmo would love him just as vehemently as Wanda

[fujii-draws]

OKAY! Chatot rant in tags below! Read at your own discretion.

[designernishiki]

it’s kinda funny to me how that dumb scene in kiwami 1 of majima getting shot and left for dead in the harbor was basically just added as a half-assed way to explain majima not being around for a bit of the plot, but they accidentally(?) just made it seem like start of a chain reaction where majima ended up feeling slighted and heartbroken after being abandoned like that and then lashed out about it via smashing a big truck into the building kiryu was in. and yeah that isn’t inherently a romantic thing as-is but then they go and add the part where majima grabs a hostess and performatively hits on her as in-kiryu’s-face as possible, she says she’s already in love with someone, and majima lets her go immediately, no questions asked, making a big fucking point of it just to say see THAT kiryu? I appreciate when people are HONEST about their FEELINGS. people who won’t just BACKSTAB someone who CARES about them to save themselves. is that so crazy kiryu?? huh??? anyway make it up to me get down here and fight me right fucking now

[danceinthunder]

Regulus is sure he was only given five senses to appreciate James Potter.

Anyone would know why it was a blessing to see James. He was pretty and handsome and always so happy. It was infectious, Regulus had to fight and fight and fight not to just grin because James was. He had pretty privilege and didn’t even know it. Sweet and innocent and fun and bright - sun incarnate.

Touching James was like burning. Warm and delightful but dangerously tempting to step closer till the flames that surrounded the boy engulfed you. James made touch casual. Happy to hug anyone; slap a hand on a shoulder; a tired head on the shoulder. But Regulus monopolised his touch. He found James’ hands linger and rest on his waist. A sly finger on his cheek, brushing off an eyelash. Holding his hand and playing with his fingers. To touch and be held by James Potter was to be touched and held by a God, Regulus thought. There is no other way to explain such perfection.

James Potter never smelt of one single thing. He was a teenage boy who played sports, so unfortunately, sometimes that was for the worse. But most of the time he would smell so good. His jumpers from home smelt of turmeric and ginger and dried basil - James’ mum used to dry off their cloths in the kitchen and the smells of his childhood and family followed him always. Sitting near enough to him, near enough to breath in the spice and sugar of him, made Regulus feel like a part of the exciting world that conjured James Potter.

Everyone across hogwarts would probably be able to hear James. He was unapologetically loud. Gleeful laughs and his loud chatting would linger in hallways like ghostly echoes of a happy life being lived. Regulus would chase empty corridors to follow the sound so comfortable and tender. If moths were drawn to flames they were stupid - to be drawn to anything but James’ laughter and joy would be stupid. And his whispers, the secret words that he would pour into Regulus ears were siren songs, honey-sweet promises. ‘Drown me in them and I’ll die happy’ Regulus would think staring up at the smiling boy resting him on his legs, ‘Orpheus and Eurydice, me and you, where I hear your voice I’ll follow.’

And Regulus held the secret of what it was like to taste James Potter. To feel his lips against his own and know what he tasted of. All the sugar sweetness and gentle spice that was addictive against his tongue. Regulus would starve himself to consume the taste of James, to define its changing feeling. All the joy and happiness and sunny warmth of his lover. Ambrosia and nectar and James Potter. Regulus would fight anyone, anything to steal a taste from his lips as many times as he could.

To take James Potter away from him would be to blind him. It would be to take away any pleasure of taste, any joy of music and sound, any sensation of feeling against his skin, and leave him unable to enjoy the subtle scents of the world around him. James Potter owned Regulus Black’s heart, and Regulus would fight to keep them both safe.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

kenjaku and shoko are the best jjk blorbos to have with you during your period btw . (bear with me for a second the great bloodletting just began and i’m in desperate need of comfort) like. they’re the Best. shoko is self-explanatory but i’m also convinced kenny knows your cycle by heart (they’re scarily observant + they’ve literally Been a woman before) and can tell you exactly how bad it’s going to be several days before. kenny is the period tracker blorbo. shoko is just very competent and sweet and really good at making the pain go away. i’ll give points to choso too because he would be intensely caring and protective + might be able to use blood manipulation to lighten your flow…

then we have suguru who’s always the best option but he doesn’t let you eat sweets because they’ll make your cramps worse so who needs him 🙏🙏

[daylighteclipsed]

I think if you convinced Astarion not to ascend, he’s there for the Haarlep encounter, and you fail the CON check (push Haarlep away), he should lose his cool and fire an arrow at Haarlep or something and interrupt Haarlep’s magic, giving you another chance to fight instead. I do think the sex abuse survivor witnessing his friend or lover being coerced into sex would notice when they want to escape and would have something to say about it.

[bibleofficial]

i literally have the pigeon corpse in my freezer

[milflewis]

.

[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.

[tariah23]

I don’t have much context for what was said and what happened but I don’t think I’d stop supporting Palestine because of what was said. He’s just one person. Idk, stop treating these people like idols and trends I guess 🫡? Then you won’t be disappointed when they go mask off racist. Your support should extend further than idolization.

[cybercanadian]

just got stood up by a Grindr date 🙃

[plenaurum]

Getting back into the Arcana and LORD HAVE MERCY have I forgotten how WEIRD ppl would get about Asra

[noxexistant]

adore the consensus that race and albert vape in modern au but the delanceys still smoke cigarettes