#sorry if i have already tagged you today

[thedailydescent]

Farah (@farahmoo2) sent me a song she loved so much as a kid:

It's called, هل تعلمين ماذا فعلت اليوم (Do you know what I did today?)

The song comes from the children's show Mooda Moody (مودا مودي) which airs on Spacetoon (you can watch it on Dailymotion as well!) It is about two funny sisters with different attitudes in solving their daily problems.

Translated, the song is about Mooda and Moody going around telling their parents what good deeds they did that day. In the first part of the song, Mooda tells her dad she cleaned her room and her father congratulates her. Next, Moody tells her mum she picked flowers for grandmother, who then kissed her and gave her sweets. Mooda then tells her dad she helped the neighbour move heavy stuff, which the neighbour thanked her for by praying that she and her family will live a long and happy life. Moody then tells her mum she played with her cousin today, and lent her her pens and colouring pencils so she could draw. The song ends with the parents singing.

Last Wednesday, Farah told me occupiers bombed a tent nearby her camp. Everyday, she hopes the Rafah border opens so her family can evacuate as soon as possible. Everyday, she instead walks to the internet point to campaign online, as there has been nothing conclusive about when that will happen.

I light a candle every morning, which is around the same time Farah will walk home in the evening, for a safe journey home.

Farah only received €5 in donations yesterday. She has been vetted via association to Nesma (@nesmamomen), her sister, and her fundraiser has also been shared by 90-ghost. Please help Farah and Shahd (@shah599) out.

(also a big thank you to whoever is currently helping Farah out with her gofundme transfer!)

@neptunerings @khanger @prisonhannibal @lesbianboyfriend @3t22

@doublycharming-tetraquark @danlous @here-sean-once-was @jewishdainix @neechees

@maester-cressen @underthejollyroger @starlightshadowsworld @timogsilangan @jezior0

@pcktknife @teabisexual @ankle-beez @infectedpaul @dlxxv-vetted-donations

@rhubarbspring @furiousfinnstan @malcriaada @sweetsweethate @tiredguyswag

@sonadowkismesis @sillysymbol @daxdraggon @fizzledlines @gnomebud

@pikslasrce @beetlemouth @ravensfreckles @cassandragemini @dirhwangdaseul

@brokenbackmountain @socalgal @robotpussy @sneakerdoodle @recreationaldivorce

@astra--cosmos @nesmakjj @brittklein18 @spinbreon @appsa

@komsomolka @ana-bananya @lesbianmaxevans @weirdmarioenemies @aleciosun

[thingscanalwaysgetworse]

love that it's called nerdy PRUDES must die but everyone that died was unashamedly horny

Edit: Please read the tags

[fuckingstupidbracket]

like a regular bin, not even recycled or anything

[lost-in-fandoms]

Your wingfics live rent free in my head. I can't stop thinking about it. They were so good omg. It's such a beautiful universe, so amazing ♥️ Do you plan to write more about it? 🥹♥️ I hope so but if the answer is no, I will read them again and again because I love them ♥️😍

adsfndjd anon you are the sweetest!!! I'm so happy you enjoyed them and were so kind to tell me, I really appreciate it!

Sadly, I can't promise anything for the future tbh. I have been really struggling with getting back into writing after a really long drought, and I'm giving my brain the chance to just put down whatever it fancies, instead of forcing myself to write something specific just for the sake of it. I am always open to be prodded by an ask like this or a prompt though so always feel free to drop by! A lot of the things I write don't actually live in a wider universe, they just spawn out of nowhere, get thrown down on paper, and disappear in the void, but usually I can still create more around it if someone asks. Another reason why I really appreciate you saying this, because for once my wingfic does have a wider universe around it, and I am always glad to put one more snippet into it.

This is little baby Max in his first year in the rbr seat (part 1 and part 2)

cw: mentions of Jos not being a great father related to unsafe and painful wing care practices, description of said practices, littlest blood mention

Max doesn't like his wings.

He doesn't dislikes them either, but if he could get rid of them, he would. First of all, he can't actually use them to fly, his bones aren't hollow and his back muscles aren't powerful enough anyway, so having wings that don't actually work seems like a taunt from the universe. They're also very inconvenient when driving. Papa has taught him how to keep them clipped to lower their weight, and how to keep them tightly bound in an harness to have them take up less space in a kart, but neither of those things is exactly pleasant. Sometimes, when he drives for too long, his whole back spasms because of his wings being constricted, and sometimes when he clips too much, his wings bleed and molting becomes painful.

It's worth it, of course, to be able to race faster and better, but a part of him does wish he just had Papa's fish scales, or even Mama's diaphanous dragonfly wings.

Cleaning his wings is also annoying, because it's hard sometimes to reach all the spots, and after long days on the track it feels like there will be itchy dust and grit clinging onto them forever.

He's not one to get stuck on made-up scenarios, but it doesn't mean he has to like them.

--

Daniel is not the first bird-winged racer he meets, of course, but he is his first teammate. He has a completely different relationship with his wings than Max, always keeping them shiny and clean, no clipping or binding. He seems to love them and to love taking care of them, parading them around and showing them off.

Max doesn't understand. Not that it matters, he doesn't need to understand Daniel to be able to beat him, but. It's not that he's jealous, he's not, but sometimes he feels the heaviness of his wings on his back, skin irritated by the dirt stuck to it, looking patchy where he's taking longer to molt, and he wishes. He wants.

Most of the time though, he knows it's just a waste of time, to care about how they look so much, when it doesn't even matter, when it doesn't affect his driving.

And then one day, Daniel doesn't knock.

Max is carefully peeling his race suit off his shoulders, hissing slightly when it goes over his bound wings, when the door slams open.

"Maxy, hey, have you seen..." Daniel doesn't finish his sentence, eyebrows knotting together, eyes zeroed on Max's back.

Max feels his skin prickling under his gaze and he's almost tempted to do his suit up again, but his wings are aching, and he wants to take a shower, so he just turns around to face Daniel, frowning just as hard.

"What do you want?" he snaps, hating the way he feels his cheeks heat up. He doesn't know why he's reacting like this, he's done nothing wrong, but the way Daniel is looking at him, a mix of unbelieving and horrified, makes him feel ashamed.

"Do you always do that?" Daniel asks instead of answering his question, taking a step forward. Max instinctively takes a step back, bumping into the massage table behind him, hating himself for not standing his ground. It's his driver room, Daniel has no right to judge him in here.

"Do what, Daniel?"

He goes to cross his arms, but the movement tugs on his still trapped wings, making him wince. He wants Daniel to leave, so he can finally finish undressing, but Daniel steps even closer instead.

"Do you always keep your wings like that? Max, that's dangerous!"

Max decides to ignore the worry in Daniel's voice, feeling himself bristle.

"I am of course able to drive safely!"

"Drive?" Daniel gives a short laugh, so different from his usual one Max feels himself shiver. He wishes he had more space to put between them. "I am not talking about driving, I am talking about your wings!"

Max opens his mouth, ready to tell him to leave him alone, when his back spasms, a hot flash of pain traveling from his neck down his spine, wings straining against the constrains, and what comes out is a strangled gasp instead.

A second later, Daniel's hands are on his shoulders, forcing him to turn around with a swear.

"Did you put this on this morning? Let me help you take it off."

Daniel doesn't give him a chance of answering, fingers already working on the buckles on Max's side, as Max scrambles to push him away.

"No, no, you cannot, you have to..." he breathes in sharply as the harness start to loosen, wings cramping as they try to flutter, eyes snapping close.

"Max, you need to..."

"Slow," Max interrupts him, clutching at the straps to keep them from slipping open all at the same time. "You have to, one at a time."

He doesn't open his eyes again as he undoes them carefully, feeling Daniel hover just in front of him, keeping his wings tightly pressed against his back until he can slip the straps over his shoulders and down his waist.

"Max..." Daniel doesn't try to touch him again, but Max can hear the stress in the way his vocal cords curl around his name, mixing it with an involuntary warble.

Max ignores him. This is always the worst part, but he is practiced enough to make it go quickly.

He takes a breath, wrapping his right arm around his waist until he is able to grasp his left wing's tip, and then holds it as he works it open, fingers sliding along the length of it, straightening feathers as they come. Pain shoots through it, his back burning, his shoulders tensing, but when it's fully open, he works to close it again, and then it's done, just a dull ache left behind.

He lets himself take two deep breaths before repeating the whole thing with the other.

When both wings are resting along his back again, he shifts his shoulders, trying to get rid of the tension there, and then finally opens his eyes.

Daniel is looking at him, eyes wide and horrified, mouth slightly open. His hands are shaking. Max doesn't know what to say.

"It is of course fine, see?" is what he settles for, fluttering his wings to prove it. It's slightly painful, especially his left one where he clipped a bit too much and is bleeding a little, but Daniel doesn't need to know that.

"Fine?" Daniel chokes out, eyes widening impossibly more. "You're hurting yourself! That's not safe, Max!"

Max scoffs, letting the harness fall on the massage bed and pulling his undershirt off, carefully easing his wings through the slits in the back.

"I'm fine, Daniel."

For a second, it looks like Daniel is going to scream at him, eyes narrowing and fists closing, and Max wonders if it would be inappropriate for him to flee the room half naked, but then all the fight seems to leave Daniel's body. He sags a little, raising a hand to drag it across his face and sighing, shaking his head to himself.

"Listen, I don't know why you've decided this is the right thing to do to yourself, but you're going to take a shower, and when you're done we'll go back to the hotel, and I'll preen your wings."

Max opens his mouth, ready to argue with him, he has data to go over before tomorrow's qualifying, but Daniel doesn't give him a chance to, turning around and leaving the room as quickly as he had come in.

[u-reblogged-a-scam]

Ok, let’s try this again!

This blog is already gone by now, but there are still people resharing the og post, so:

Do not donate your money or reblog this post (take it down if you already have) bc this is a scam

• First of all, who verified them? I’ve seen blogs being credited for vetting fundraisers before, either from other people or the op themself, so who vetted this one? If someone claims to be verified but doesn’t tag or mention the person who verified them, odds are they’re not verified; try finding someone who does verify fundraisers, or at least look through the notes and see if someone else already did, and ask them if it’s real

• Secondly, the projected goal is only $367. Meanwhile, real Palestinian fundraisers are, unfortunately, worth tens of thousands of dollars

• Third, these are previous scams I’ve called out before. Notice anything similar about them?

And last but certainly not least: Never trust a donation post linked to an empty PayPal account unless said link has been verified by a trusted source, especially if their name doesn’t even match the one in their post

Here’s an additional resource to help you spot the red flags of scams moving forward:

I was recently shadowbanned, so I have no idea if any of you received notifications from my call out post this morning. I apologize if you have, as this will be redundant and probably annoying for you, but to cover my bases and ensure you all know, I’m tagging everyone from that post again:

@faraway-wanderer @icarusxxrising @blaiddydbeni @iliveinfandoms @opheliadeservedbetter-27 @rainesaur @aces-jacket @arachnid-party @ofrandomthought @hdjdkxoxmsbxind @strawbrrydoll @dokidokigoblin @angelcloudcake @hiiihaiiihiii @greengummyworm @drawer-ghost @thisaccountsshit @sylviathegreatest @pedestrianwolves @wetratman @suroftheworld @luckybyrdrobyn @c0smic-ab0minati0n @lesbianbookwhore @disastrousbastard @annoying-crow @aughwl @pileofdeerb0nes @salz-mit-wasser @angrydonutdestiny @lettucehater69 @reeyu @fizzyfishy @none-of-your-beeswax @raggedyfink @braincell-screen-saver @stardustledian @scientistkisser @calliovera @fallinggravity678 @justkindaconfused @themagical1sa @thequeensownketchup @jo-the-nerd @halographic-live @spidey6koo @nirvana-war-queen @stavvkas @possessedplushii @i12neil

[qprpbj]

oh thank god ppl aren’t crucifying me for saying i like it better that darry dropped out of school over just not going at all i feel so vindicated. i think it makes sm more sense for his character and—-

[lifeof-pink]

kdj trying to kill himself after seeing the OD is such a visceral and gut wrenching part of the book—

“Something was wrong. A blade… I, I needed to find a blade.” <- this scene (chapter 515) actually broke my heart, i genuinely felt sick reading it. he’s so desperate to die that it’s honestly palpable, it’s like finally seeing that truth behind the snarky mask kim dokja always wears. it took me until this point to realize that every time he tried to sacrifice himself for his companions, it wasn’t just a well thought out plan but a true, genuine suicidality and the acceptance that he might not come back. that he isn’t worthy of living a good, happy life with a happy ending. (which maybe i’m just slow, but i really fell for dokja’s lies, every single time i thought to myself “everything’s going to be fine because he has a plan to survive this,” and almost every single time i was right. except for the end i suppose.)

and fuck, it hits so, so hard.

[good-omens-heritage-posts]

Heritage implies age, these aren’t heritage posts they’re just posts you like

you aren't wrong, i've just decided that maybe that's okay tbh

[elf-simp]

Seiei Tsuwamono

B A S I C S

Name: Seiei Tsuwamono

Nickname(s): Cici (Shorthand to remove confusion with his name and title)

Age (at time of death): Unknown, speculated to be around 300.

Nameday: 5th Sun of the 3rd Astral Moon

Race: Rava Viera

Gender: Male

Orientation: Asexual

Profession: Master strategist / Samurai councilman.

P H Y S I C A L     A S P E C  T S

Hair: A creamy off-white with blackened tips. He keeps it long and always has at least some part of it braided

Eyes: Very bright, dusty teal decorated by an almost constant scowl. (But he's not actually mad that's just his face)

Skin: A warm 'espresso' tone that is fairly smooth in most places. Exceptions being his facial scar and hands which are quite rough.

Tattoos/scars: A single, long scar rests over his right eye that he has had since his youth. His eye under it is undamaged.

F A M I L Y

Parents: Unknown

Siblings: A single older brother that he "does not get along with."

Grandparents: N/A

In-laws and Other: No in-laws. Other: Adoptive daughter (formerly) named Sophinia

"Pets": A crow named "Kehaar" is almost always at his side. He has been seen with varying other beasts in his employ as well, though he was reluctant to consider any of them 'pets'

S K I L L S

Abilities: Has demonstrated exceptional swordsmanship, a skill honed over the course of hundreds of years. Strangely good with animals, seemingly able to tame them in a matter of minutes. Exceptionally creative under pressure, usually during combative encounters.

Hobbies: Fishing, foraging, cooking, mahjong (sucks at it), kenjutsu, and general martial arts

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: His sense of humor

Most Negative Trait: His sense of humor

L I K E S

Colors: Green, White, Orange, Yellow

Smells: Fresh tea, Rain, Cherry blossoms, Campfires

Textures: Down feathers, Linen, Smooth stones eroded by water, Old and dried tree bark

Drinks: Tea (All), water, juice (all), Soju, Sochu

O T H E R    D E T A I L S

Smokes: Never

Drinks: Infrequently and almost always alone. Prefers drinks with 'floral' flavors. Seems almost entirely unaffected by alcohol.

Drugs: Used them ounce, had a "bad experience" and refuses to again.

Mount Issuance: Either whatever the falcon porter has on hand for the day or whatever stray beast he happens to find that can support his weight.

Been Arrested: Never. Generally either low-profile or keen enough to avoid the eye of authorities.

Tagged by @oneiroy

Tagging: @mythandral @yloiseconeillants @azure-dragonsinger @cantspelldragoonwithoutgoon @abyssalmermaiden @khajiitclaws and @biblicallyaccurateviera

[that-was-anticlimactic]

if i loved you like i'm capable of

Chuuya stared at him, eyes wide before bursting into laughter. “Phah! Dazai was right—you are high-strung!” they cackled, slapping their knee with their hand.

“I am not high-strung!” Kunikida argued. “Unlike you, I actually have a set of ideals and morals that I strive to live by. If that makes me high-strung to the world, then so be it. At least I have those to fall back on.”

“Hm,” Chuuya hummed, all traces of laughter vanishing within seconds. Although their chests were practically touching, they somehow managed to stalk even closer. They hooked a finger around Kunikida’s collar and pulled him down, ignoring his indignant squawk and red skin.

“You seem pretty high-strung to me, even without all your ideals. Looks like you could use a break, pretty boy.”

[or, kenji, chuuya, & kunikida have a sleepover & bad flirting ensues]

🛏 7,045 words | kunichuu & kenji 🛏

a gift for my beloved @zukkaoru because they had to listen to me complain about writer's bock for two months straight, they wanted more kunicuu, their kunichuu spam yesterday inspired this, & bc i'm biased & love them <333

[james-spooky]

this is a test

[ghost-proofbaby]

WIP word game

rules: you will be given a word. share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

this game literally had me bouncing in my seat!!! thank you so much to @the-unforgivenn and @hellfire--cult for the tags!!! i'm gonna knock both out on the same post here (also both your words are delicious)

my words are: BITE and PRESSURE

possible spoilers for so mordor it is, so scarlet (it was maroon), and the moon will sing (i loved you like the sun) below the read more <3

also for this game, i'm not entirely sure who's already been tagged and who hasn't, so i'm just gonna tag anyone i think would enjoy this! also tagging up here so there's no pressure to scroll all the way through my snippets if you don't want to haha

no pressure tags: @corroded-hellfire @jo-harrington @andvys @take-everything-you-can @littlesubbyflower @eddiesxangel and honestly anyone else who wants to take a go at this!! <3

your word (if you wanna join) is: HAUNT.

But the girl deserves her honesty, and so she whispers, “I thought it was just PTSD.” 

Something about it is easy – there’s a relief when the whispers of truth trickle a bit louder, rising until Willow finally pours out everything that only one other person could possibly understand. Steve wouldn’t understand, Robin couldn’t possibly understand, Eddie would only try desperately to understand – but Max? Max gets it. Max doesn’t look at her like she’s crazy when words fall from her lips about the nightmares, sparing as many details as possible while still communicating the point.

...

“I don’t understand why the front cover of some stupid ass magazine is so important,” Eddie grumbles as he follows you now, both of you deciding to stand and not yet sit in the empty chairs on the closest side of what must be Matt’s massive desk, “The tabloids run rumors about my dating life all the time-”

“Exactly.”

...

There’s no more quick remarks for her to add. With his unnecessary permission and subtle reassurance of his protection, she’s taking off around the wall of shrubbery, heart pounding out of her chest. 

I don’t have my weapons.

...

Even after all that the two of you have been through, you can’t resist that inherent urge to protect him. 

You can’t quiet the voice that whispers that you still care for him, and you still want to be there for him, even at your own destruction. 

Paler knuckles, tightening fist. The invisible leash is practically choking Wyll now.

...

Really, after Astarion’s feasting on her, she may be more magic than blood at this moment.

And that magic serves as a security blanket, a layer of armor to hopefully replace all the physical leather she’s left behind on the beach, as she hears the sound of an unfamiliar woman in camp.

...

Eddie had kept you a secret. 

Especially now that I know the truth.

Or spun you into a blatant lie. You don’t know which one is worse.

...

She’d tore her way through the process of grief in record time. She’d clawed herself out of those depths in order to be there for her mom, to return to being a daughter worthy of having survived that night with Parker. Nightmares, the gnawing hole in her chest, the way she still couldn’t meet her mom’s gaze when Parker became a topic of conversation – that was just residual shock waves. They would pass one day. These symptoms would pass one day. She had been so sure of it. 

...

She knows somewhere in the shadows, Astarion’s daggers have been drawn. 

“You’ve caused quite the commotion amongst gods and devils alike, if I’ve heard correctly from the whispers of the Hells.”

Time stops. Aruna’s blood freezes. All the magic dies beneath her skin, right along with the air in her lungs.

...

Until the space behind your eyes aches. “The headline went viral online, right?”

“Yeah,” guilt seeps into Matt’s words, “It did.” 

“Have they figured out who I am?” 

...

“Room. Now.” 

Of course, you don’t. 

The game was never one-sided. It was never you, a merciful victim of Astarion, always trapped in his shadows. It’s a game for two – and you’ve earned your blame in it all, the same as Astarion. 

...

Eddie scoffs as he shifts uncomfortably, “Maybe I’m just inspired.” 

“I’m sure you are,” Matt readily agrees, “By her.” 

what have we learned, you ask? that i do not like starting sentences with the letter R, apparently.

[headphonemouse]

vent post sorry so sorry i'm having a Bad Time

psyched myself up to buy a new bed but when i announced my plans for the weekend my sibling's like 'are you sure you wanna buy a new bed?' like damn killed the hype immediately. i don't wanna buy a bed i don't wanna go anywhere i'll just keep using the bed that we all cycled through growing up that hasn't been replaced in a decade+ with no bedframe and only one sheet that fits.

"are you sure you want-" I need a new bed. This isn't a matter of wanting. i don't want to think about where to get the best deals or which store has a delivery service or the logistics of hauling that thing into my room or where to get rid of the old one i'm sick of sleeping on a mattress on the floor. don't make this ordeal more complicated than it has to be.

[gayalanwake]

sorry if I become extra annoying im kinda tweaking over being on my own for the first time sooooo I might let myself become extra indulgent 💔💔💔

[aprylynn]

Receiptify Time!!! I was tagged by @raplinenthusiasts @epiphanytear and @sevencoloredstar to post my receipts from last month 🥰🥰🥰

Tagging @lauraperfectinsanity @summerwave @hopeinthebox @cosmicdreamgrl @cordiallyfuturedwight @lightedwindows @zerotolove to post your receiptify if you want 💗

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 51

He didn't care, didn't marvel that he was soon to be airborne on one of those incredible beasts. Didn't care that tomorrow, they would all take on the dark army gathered beyond.

He'd fought in more battles, more wars, than he cared to remember. Tomorrow would be little different, save for the demons they'd slay, rather than men or Fae.

Demons like his former queen, apparently.

He had offered himself to her, had wanted her, or believed he did. And she had laughed at him. He didn't know what it meant. About her, about himself.

He'd thought his darkness, Hellas's gifts, had been drawn to her, that they'd been matched.

Perhaps the dark god had wanted him not to swear fealty to Maeve, but to kill her. To get close enough to do so.

Lorcan didn't adjust his cape against the gust of frigid air off the distant lake. Rather, he leaned into the cold, into the ice on the wind. As if it might rip away the truth.

There was no fear or pity on her face, her black hair gilded by the torches and campfires. Of all of them, she'd mastered the news with little difficulty, stepping up to the desk as if she'd been born on a battlefield.

"I didn't know," he said, voice strained.

Elide knew what he meant. "We have bigger things to worry about anyway."

He took a step toward her. "I didn't know," he said again.

She tipped her head back to study his face and pursed her mouth, a muscle ticking in her jaw. "Do you want me to give you some sort of absolution for it?"

"I served her for nearly five hundred years. Five hundred years, and I just thought her to be immortal and cold."

"That sounds like the definition of a Valg to me."

He bared his teeth. "You live for eons and see what it does to you, Lady."

"I don't see why you're so shocked. Even with her being immortal and cold, you loved her. You must have accepted those traits. What difference does it make what we call her, then?"

"I didn't love her."

"You certainly acted like you did."

Lorcan snarled, "Why is that the point you keep returning to, Elide? Why is it the one thing you cannot let go of?"

"Because I'm trying to understand. How you could come to love a monster."

"Why?" He pushed into her space. She didn't balk one step.

Indeed, her eyes were blazing as she hissed, "Because it will help me understand how I did the same."

Her voice snagged on the last words, and Lorcan stilled as they settled into them. He'd never ... he'd never had anyone who-

"Is it a sickness?" she demanded. "Is it something broken within you?"

"Elide." Her name was a rasp on his lips. Lorcan dared reach a hand for her. But she pulled out of reach. "If you think that because you swore the blood oath to Aelin, it means anything for you and me, you're sorely mistaken. You're immortal-I'm human. Let us not forget that little fact, either."

Lorcan nearly recoiled at the words, their horrible truth. He was five hundred years old He should walk away—he shouldn't be so damned bothered by any of this. And yet Lorcan snarled, "You're jealous. That's what truly eats away at you."

Elide barked a laugh that he'd never heard before, cruel and sharp. "Jealous? Jealous of what? That demon you served?" She squared her shoulders, a wave cresting before it smashed into the shore. "The only thing that I am jealous of, Lorcan, is that she is rid of you."

Lorcan hated that the words landed like a blow. That he had no defenses left where she was concerned. "I'm sorry," he said. "For all of it, Elide." There, he'd said it, and laid it out before her. "I'm sorry," he repeated.

But Elide's face did not warm. "I don't care," she said, turning on her heel. "And I don't care if you walk off that battlefield tomorrow.

"I have never heard Lorcan apologize for anything. Even when Maeve whipped him for a mistake, he did not apologize to her."

"And that means he earns my forgiveness?"

"No. But you have to realize that he swore the blood oath to Aelin for you. For no one else. So he could remain near you. Even knowing well enough that you will have a mortal lifespan."

The birds shifted on their feet, rustling their wings in anticipation of flight. She knew. Had known it the moment he'd knelt before Aelin. Weeks later, Elide hadn't known what to do with it, the knowledge that Lorcan had done this for her. The longing to talk to him, to work with him as they had. She'd hated herself for it. For not trying to hold on to her anger longer.

It was why she'd gone after him tonight.

Not to punish him, but herself. To remind herself of who he'd sold their queen to, how profoundly mistaken she had been.

And her parting line to him ... it was a lie.

A disgusting, hateful lie.

Elide turned to Gavriel again. "I don't—" The Lion was gone. And for the cold flight over the army, then over the sea of darkness spread between it and the ancient city, even that wise voice who had whispered for the entirety of her life had gone quiet.