#the voices are saying to kiss them

[antonias-beloved]

I have so many f/os swirling around my head right now...

[rottengurlz]

toxic yuri vampires you will always be famous to me

[artashipatrick]

“With Tashi, every time she does something that could be read as cruel or manipulative or playing a sort of game,”

“I do think it’s always also coming from a place of her trying to get not just what she needs, but what she thinks these other two people need too—and to take care of them in a way that she feels resentful for having to.”

“But she’s not shirking her responsibility, she’s taking her responsibility of taking care of them very seriously.”

“She has entered into this dynamic somewhat willingly. It’s never the case that someone is doing something for just one reason.” (Justin Kuritzkes on Tashi’s motivations)

[jesuis-assez]

↠ Tim & Lucy scenes ↳ 5x10 - The List

[joseigamer]

Patalliro! is fascinating to me because of stuff like this. It's unapologetically gay - even within its anime which aired during primetime hours in 1982 - in a way that many later BL manga would never be, like the ones from the early 2000s which would never dare to call their characters actual homosexuals. Patalliro has actually aged quite well in this regard, there's something comforting about how campy it is.

[agencyboys]

I couldn't get this little missing scene out of my head!!! I mean how do we go from Niko asking him if he knows it's okay to be gay to just straight up asking if he wants to kiss boys in the next episode?! I think perhaps they did have some discussions between the episodes, and while Edwin was still figuring himself out, Niko was able to suss him out for certain.

"Niko, I am afraid you might have misunderstood me earlier at the library today... Of course, I know that two boys can - what did you say?- Ah, "like like each other." I may have died in 1916, but my politics certainly did not stagnate there. I simply meant... while, yes, Monty and I are both boys, that is just... not where my... proclivities lie."

Niko stares at him with what can only be described as gentle confusion and asks "Okay... so you're saying you don't want to date boys?" Edwin tries not to panic because he can hear the doubt in her question.

"Precisely. Frankly, I do not think courting as a whole is in the books for me. I never truly understood the appeal, " he explains. Niko looks at him with poorly hidden sadness at this comment.

"Well, that's toootally okay. You don't have to date anybody if you don't want to! But... I really think you should still read some of my manga. They can be very informative."

[girlivealwaysbean]

so many thoughts but i CANNOT stop laughing that all that time we thought louis had some elaborate mind control type reason for staying with armand and it was really just.. HIM TRYING TO MAKE HIS EX JEALOUS SLSKSKKSKSKS

[winterfromtevinter]

All of the hate for Neve re Lucanis from his fans is sooooo weird. Sorry she's beautiful and funny and -

[cerealbishh]

"We're in the exact same place we were before..."

"We are in such a different place. We're communicating, we're- we're listening to each other... We're gonna figure it out, together."

[vaguely-concerned]

first of all rye 'hello fellow kids' ingellvar there is nothing in this world or any other I wouldn't do for you. second of all, considering where this story ends... I'm going to die. this conversation -- and how much he genuinely believes what he's saying at this point -- held up against the fact that in a couple of months max he's going to get her killed (well. that's how he feels anyway) and then go against everything she believed in and stood for as a person in the end and have to live forever with knowing that's how he honoured her sacrifice. (and live with how easy it is to live with, the way he doesn't regret what he did at all. she'll haunt him from time to time, that's fine, he's a watcher he's loved many a ghost before and will again. but that won't.) 'no one is beyond help? oh lace I'm so so sorry, wherever you are now please forgive me for who I am, but after what he pulled and by the time I'm done with him on my watcher's oath he will be beyond help. I'll hold every hand in this world that reaches back but his'. and she'll still be gone.

'or none of this matters'. im so fucking sad I feel sick *through tears* this is great I love fiction I love this game (embarrassingly genuine as is my wont)

[seaweedstarshine]

Sometimes I think of Amy Pond, who grew up being called mad by those who wielded the word as a tool of exclusion and shame —

Amy Pond, who though forced into the hands of four psychiatrists, still clung to that which they called madness until those systems which elevate psychosocial conformity above humanity stripped it from her —

Amy Pond, whose imaginary friend reappeared for a single hour after twelve years and reignited that faith before disappearing for two more years —

Amy Pond, who spent those those two years under the same implicit threat ingrained in her through psychiatric violence, and thus began to believe the man who stopped the invasion was “just a madman with a box,” only for him to agree, and to also call her “mad, impossible Amy Pond,” reframing madness as non-negative for the first time in her life —

Amy Pond, who ignored the disembodied voice of her imaginary friend even as she ran away with him for real, who still lived each day with the traumatic internalization of deviancy dictated upon her by the psychiatric-industrial complex that shaped her from childhood —

Amy Pond, who wouldn't acknowledge the Doctor's voice, such that it took an Angel in her eye that was literally killing her to ensure she couldn't reality check herself —

Amy Pond, who stood before a room which muttered about “the psychiatrists we brought her to,” and though afraid, escaped their rigid parameters of acceptable existence.

[acourtofquestions]

Rowaelin Chapter 41 Kingdom of Ash:

She'd rebuild it—what she had been.

Perhaps one last time, perhaps only for a little while, but she'd do it. If only for Terrasen.

Rowan swooped from the mast, shifting as he reached her side at the rail. He surveyed the night-black sea beyond them. "You should rest." She slid him a glance. "I'm not tired." Not a lie, not in some regards. "Want to spar?" He frowned. "Training can start tomorrow."

"Or tonight." She held his piercing stare, matched his dominance with her own.

"It can wait a few hours, Aelin."

"Every day counts." Against Erawan, even a day of training would count.

Rowan's jaw tightened. "True," he said at last. "But it can still wait. There are ... there are things we need to discuss." The silent words rose in his animal-bright eyes. About you and me.

Her mouth went dry. But Aelin nodded In silence, they strode into their spacious quarters, its only decoration the wall of windows that overlooked the churning sea behind them. A far cry from a queen's chamber, or any she might have purchased as Adarlan's assassin.

At least the bed built into the wall looked clean enough, the sheets crisp and stainless. But Aelin headed for the oak desk anchored to the floor, and leaned against it while Rowan shut the door.

In the dim lantern light, they stared at each other.

She'd endured Maeve and Cairn; she'd endured Endovier and countless other horrors and losses. She could have this conversation with him. The first step toward rebuilding herself.

Aelin knew Rowan could hear her thundering heart as the space between them went taut. She swallowed once. "Elide and Lorcan told you... told you everything that was said on that beach."

A curt nod, wariness flooding his eyes. "Everything that Maeve said." Another nod.

She braced herself. "That I'm-we're mates."

Understanding and something like relief replaced that wariness. "Yes."

"I'm your mate," she said, needing to voice it. "And you are mine."

Rowan crossed the room, but halted a few feet from the desk on which she leaned. "What of it, Aelin?" His question was low, rough.

"Don't you..." She scrubbed at her face. "You know what she did to you, to ..." She couldn't say her name. Lyria. "Because of it."

"I do know."

"And?"

"And what do you wish me to say?"

She pushed off the desk. "I wish you to tell me how you feel about it. If…"

"If what?"

"If you wish it wasn't so."

His brows narrowed. "Why would I ever wish that?"

She shook her head, unable to answer, and stared over her shoulder toward the sea.

It seemed like he would close the distance between them, but he remained where he was.

"Aelin." His voice turned hoarse. "Aelin."

She looked at him then, at the pain in his words.

"Do you know what I wish?" He exposed his palms, one tattooed, the other unmarked. "I wish that you had told me. When you realized it. I wish you had told me then."

She swallowed against the ache in her throat. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Why would it ever hurt me to know the truth that was already in my heart? The truth I hoped for?"

"I didn't understand it. I didn't understand how it was possible. I thought maybe ... maybe you might be able to have two mates within a lifetime, but even then, I just ….." She blew out a breath. "I didn't want you to be distressed." His eyes softened. "Do I regret that Lyria was dragged into this, that the cost of Maeve's game was her life, and the life of the child we might have had? Yes. I regret that, and I wish it had never happened." He would bear the tattoo to remember it for the rest of his days. "But none of that was your fault. I will always carry some of the burden of it, always know I chose to leave her for war and glory, and that I played right into Maeve's hands."

"Maeve wanted to ensnare you to get to me, though."

"Then it is her choice, not yours."

Aelin ran a hand over the worn wood of the desk. "In those illusions she spun for me, she showed me variations on one more than all the others." The words were strained, but she forced them out. Forced herself to look at him. "She spun me one dreamscape that felt so real I could smell the wind off the Staghorns."

"What did she show you?" A breathless question.

Aelin had to swallow before she could answer. "She showed me what might have been—if there had been no Erawan, if Elena had dealt with him properly and banished him. If there had been no Lyria, none of that pain or despair you endured. She showed me Terrasen as it would have been today, with my father as king, and my childhood happy, and..." Her lips wobbled. "When I turned twenty, you came with a delegation of Fae to Terrasen, to make amends for the rift between my mother and Maeve. And you and I took one look at each other in my father's throne room, and we knew."

She didn't fight the stinging in her eyes. "I wanted to believe that was the true world. That this was the nightmare from which I'd awaken. I wanted to believe that there was a place where you and I had never known this suffering and loss, where we'd take one look at each other and know we were mates. Maeve told me she could make it so. If I gave her the keys, she'd make it all possible." She wiped at her cheek, at the tear that escaped down it. "She spun me realities where you were dead, where you'd been killed by Erawan and only in handing over the keys to her would I be able to avenge you. But those realities made me ... I stopped being useful to her when she told me you were gone. She couldn't get me to talk, to think. Yet in the ones where you and I met, where things were as they should have been ... that was when I came the closest."

His swallow was audible. "What stopped you?"

She wiped at her face again. "The male I fell in love with was you. It was you, who knew pain as I did, and who walked with me through it, back to the light. Maeve didn't understand that. That even if she could create that perfect world, it wouldn't be you with me. And I'd never trade that, trade this. Not for anything." He extended his hand. An offer and invitation.

Aelin laid hers atop his, and his callused fingers squeezed gently. "I wanted it to be you," he breathed, closing his eyes. "For months and months, even in Wendlyn, I wondered why you weren't my mate instead. It tore me up, wondering it, but I still did." He opened his eyes, and they burned like green fire. "All this time, I wanted it to be you."

She lowered her gaze, but he hooked a thumb and forefinger around her chin and lifted her face.

"I know you are tired, Fireheart. I know that the burden on your shoulders is more than anyone should endure." He took their joined hands and laid them on his heart. "But we'll face this together. Erawan, the Lock, all of it.

"We'll face it together. And when we are done, when you Settle, we will have a thousand years together. Longer."

A small sound came out of her. "Elena said the Lock requires—"

"We'll face it together," he swore again.

"And if the cost of it truly is you, then we'll pay it together. As one soul in two bodies.

Her heart strained to the point of cleaving. "Terrasen needs a king."

"I have no intention of ruling Terrasen without you. Aedion can have the job."

She scanned his face. He meant every word He brushed the hair from her face, his other hand still clasping hers to his chest, where his heart pounded a steady, unfaltering rhythm.

"Even if I had my choice of any dream-realities, any perfect illusions, I would still choose you, too."

She felt the truth of his words echo into the unbreakable thing that bound their very souls, and tilted her face up toward his. But he made no move beyond it.

She frowned. "Why aren't you kissing me?"

"I thought you might want to be asked first."

"That never stopped you before."

"This first time, I wanted to make sure you were ... ready." After Cairn and Maeve. After months of having no choices whatsoever.

She smiled despite that truth. "I'm ready to be kissed again, Prince."

He let out a dark chuckle and muttered, "Thank the gods," before he lowered his mouth to hers.

"You're my mate." Her words were a breathless rush. "And I am yours."

The world might have been burning around them for all she cared, all he cared, too.

"Together, Aelin," he promised, and she heard the rest of the words in every place their bodies joined. Together they would face this, together they would find a way.

Together we'll find a way, their mingling breaths, the crashing sea, seemed to echo.

Together.

[birchtreecat]

>rumi and ada but instead of pharmacity au they meet through college and rumi’s closing up her minimum wage job and ada’s all “oh!!! she’s cute!!” and and and

What careers would you think they chose?

CRACKS MY KNUCKLES WHTH THE DISCLAIMER OF THESE ARE NOT MY OCS!!! Rumi is @carro179 and Ada is @the-outlet-kohane-pharmacy

took me a second to sit on this. had to think. but with Ada’s energy I wanna say she’d make a SUPER good teacher. esp for younger kids I feel like kinder through like maybe second grade would all ADORE this girl if she subbed/taught their class

As for Rumi, I feel like she’d be somewhere behind the scenes in medicine- maybe in the research fields, or doing labs? Either way I feel she’d want to help others by improving on knowledge that’s already there :3

they’re both struggling through college hell rumi js also so happens to work on school campus for the free food lmao

[sciderman]

I did not know you wrote fics I’m truly living here

🫶

my fics are so delicious, you are SO lucky you get to experience them all for the very first time anon

[paimonial-rage]

My favorite works in no particular order:

Tipsy Tales (Anemo Boys)

Symbiosis (Ayato)

What Destiny Has Brought (Fischl)

Hello How Are You (Gorou)

Follow the Wind II (Kazuha)

Of the Same Coin (Mika)

Songs of the Wind (Venti)

Nothing Lasts Forever (Yae Miko)

Sharing a Drink They Call Loneliness (Zhongli)

Of Hopes and Prayers (Zhongli)

[daybreakrising]

@iniziare: "It is ill to keep a lady waiting." (Bladie, of course!)

The voice that filters through the open door - cracked just enough to allow a sliver of light to stretch across the otherwise shadowed room in which he now stands - carries with it an immediate feeling of warmth and welcome that settles deep within him and soothes a weary soul.

It takes a great deal more to tire the immortal swordsman than an average human, but exhaustion is something he is not exempt from. It has been a long mission, and his stubborn body has had to recover from a slew of conflicts with little time to rest between them. He is already mostly healed, barely more than a few superficial traces of what were once far more serious wounds left behind, but it has taken its toll.

He moves silently, but of course she knew he had returned. He has often wondered if she can sense his presence in the way he can always sense hers, like the call of home. That call beckons him now, from within a room fragrant with candles and scented oils, and he is hopeless to resist. The bag in his hand is dropped unceremoniously upon the floor, his feet carrying him towards that open, inviting door.

His coat is shed, tossed for the moment at the end of the bed - he will hang it up later, when there are less pressing matters to attend to - and he slips swiftly through the gap and into the warmth beyond. It is instant, the way peace settles upon his heart the moment his gaze finds her, languishing in steaming water, her lips curved into an easy smile - waiting for him.

There is no hesitation in the way he moves towards her, sinks down beside the tub so that he is facing her. The ceramic is cool against bare skin as he leans against the tub's rim, his head tipping to pillow against the arm he drapes over the lip, strands of dark hair spilling over to trail into the fragrant water. His other arm extends, stretches, to skim gentle fingertips across the curve of her shoulder, seeking the contact he has been absent of for several days.

Her skin is warm, slightly flushed from the heat of the bath; his own is cool, positively cold in comparison. There is a looseness to her that he is familiar with, an air of relaxation and indulgence that lures him in, lulls him so softly into releasing the tension in his muscles, into letting go.

"Unexpected delay," he says at last, by way of explanation for why he's returned a day later than planned. He doesn't need to elaborate - the evidence of his injuries will fill in the blanks. Lids close over a heavy gaze, the barest of sighs slipping from his lips as he lowers the guard he's kept up since the moment he last left her.

Often, when he catches her soaking in the tub, he will join her - accept the silent, ever present invitation extended to him, envelope her against him where he can savour the scent of her, the warmth of her. Other times, like now, it is enough to simply sit beside her, to trail fingertips across exposed skin, to exist within a presence that offers him a comfort he hasn't known in so, so long.

It has been a long journey, and a weary one, but at last... at last he is home.