writing the wrongs

Quick ficlet.

“Ar lath ma, ena’vun.”

“A…ahra…latha my…uunn? Ma vum. Ah, no, wait. Allow me to try agai–stop touching my face I am trying to–”

Low, carefree laughter filled the Commander’s darkened loft, the only candle’s light flickering warm gold and dancing shadows across the walls. The mountain’s chill might’ve bothered them on any other day, but wrapped in fur and legs entangled like veins in a bush, Cullen and Eurydice barely seemed to notice or care about the wind that blew through the tarnished ceiling. 

Eurydice grasped at Cullen’s cheeks with a rare smile on her face, her fingers squeezing the hallows of his face until his lips puckered up like a startled fish’s. “Ar. Like ‘are’. There is no ‘a’ at the end. You speak with marbles in your mouth. Very bad. Lazy.”

There was an attempt at a glare but Cullen probably realized a tad too late that it wouldn’t have its normal effect, what with his face being squished and all. If anything, he seemed to turn even more into a fish, though this one appeared to be annoyed at the very least.

“Tiss zz nwot hwlp ing.”

Eurydice giggled and smooshed his cheeks up and down, clicking her tongue as she did so. “You must relax, ena’vun. It is not hard. Relax.”

A snicker managed to come out of him, “His frama th–wet go!” Cullen grabbed her wrist and detached her from his face. “Ah, Maker, your grip!” He said was he worked his jaw from right to left, setting it back to place. 

Eurydice wiggled her fingers at him teasingly, making him pull her hand away farther. “I was only helping. You are bad at this.” 

“And squeezing the words out of me is how you help, then?” Cullen fixed her with a weak skeptical look and then shook his head, chuckling under his breath. “I feel as if I should issue a formal apology to the Dalish for butchering their language farther.”

“They would not accept it. You have a lazy tongue. Does not want to work. Not even a little.”

Cullen’s eyes flashed as he whispered, “That’s not what you were saying minutes ago, love.” but he let her grab his cheeks again, this time her touch gentle as she tugged her close enough for their foreheads to touch.

Eurydice stared at his lips. “Ar…”

Cullen stared at her eyes and sighed softly, “…A…ar…”

“La…”

“La…”

“…th…”

“Th.”

“…ma”

“…ma.”

She smiled and brushed her lips against his, “Say it slowly. Slowly now.”

Cullen paused, chewing on his lip, as he drew his arms around her back and then “Ar…lath ma.” The words shouldn’t felt like they belonged. He knew his accent was faulty, ugly to the ears, but Eurydice didn’t care. She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered as she kissed him, “I love you, too.”

anonymous asked:

Right now I'm at my parents' house for the summer, which is great... except that I'm having trouble figuring out how to deal with my mom. I'm fairly certain that she's an opposite type from me. (I'm thinking an ESFJ, maybe). I have similar problems with my brother--I've noticed they both seem to want to be in control of my life, and prioritize what they perceive my needs are over what I say my needs are. Any ideas on how to deal with situations like this?

Have you told them that their tendency to assume what’s best for you bothers you? Maybe, if you haven’t already, a conversation about it would help.

If that still hasn’t helped, just remember that you won’t be with them forever. Just for the summer. Just gotta wait it out. Family can be troubling, especially when they think they know better than you. I know it all too well. I guess, in order to lessen the irritation for yourself, I would try to think the most positive thoughts you can whenever your mom or brother say something that goes against what you want for yourself. Be calm. Choose to peacefully disagree and argue. If that doesn’t work, I would just listen but silently disagree. They may be family but you never have to agree with them or follow their instructions for you. You are your own person who can make decisions for yourself, and although opinions from people you care about are probably (and should be) important to you, very strong and uncompromising opinions do not always have to be taken seriously if you know they aren’t accurate for you. Do what you think is best for you and don’t back down from it!

I wish you the best !

MLM Books by Male Authors

This isn’t a very long list; these are just the ones on my to-read list. Also, there are some works from the included authors that I have not listed because I haven’t looked too closely into their other books, or they aren’t up my alley genre-wise. If you don’t mind female authors or authors of any other genders, feel free to check out this list.

If you have more to add, feel COMPLETELY free to reblog and do so. 

  1. Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz
  2. Ash and Echoes; Ice and Embers; Iron and Ether; Cairn and Covenant; Calling and Cull; Wine and Roses (I don’t know exactly where this one fits in or if it does) by August Li
  3. At Swim, Two Boys by Jamie O’Neill
  4. The Beauty’s Brother by Leon Hart (read; ☆☆☆)
  5. Call Me by Your Name by André Aciman
  6. Captured Shadows by Richard Rider
  7. The Cat in the Cradle; From Darkness to Darkness by Jay Bell
  8. The Chosen; The Standing Dead; The Third God by Ricardo Pinto
  9. Dangerous Moonlight by Mel Keegan
  10. The Devil in the Dust; Tower of the King’s Daughter; A Dark Way to Glory (doesn’t say LGBT on Goodreads; unsure if it actually is); Feast of the King’s Shadow (doesn’t say LGBT on Goodreads; unsure if it actually is); Hand of the King’s Evil; The End of All Roads (doesn’t say LGBT on Goodreads; unsure if it actually is) by Chaz Brenchley
  11. Dreamer by Steven Harper
  12. An East Wind Blowing by Mel Keegan
  13. Fortunes of War by Mel Keegan
  14. The God Eaters by Jesse Hajicek (enjoying this one so far; not super far into it)
  15. Haffling by Caleb James
  16. The Lightning-Struck Heart by T.J. Klune
  17. The Lonely War by Alan Chin
  18. Lord Mouse by Mason Thomas
  19. Maurice by E.M. Forster
  20. Mordred, Bastard Son by Douglas Clegg
  21. One Man Guy by Michael Barakiva
  22. A Royal Affair; Aleksey’s Kingdom by John Wiltshire
  23. The Sallee Rovers; Men of Honor; Iron Men; Heart of Oak; Man in the Crescent Moon; The Sea Leopard by M. Kei
  24. Seidman by James Erich
  25. Shadowdance by Robin Wayne Bailey
  26. The Sheltered City by John Tristan
  27. The Steel Remains; The Cold Commands; The Dark Defiles by Richard K. Morgan
  28. The Still; The King by David Feintuch
  29. Thunderbolt: Torn Enemy of Rome by Roger Kean
  30. Two Boys Kissing by David Levithan
  31. Wingmen by Ensan Case

i love the fics where one universe’s ryan is swapped with the ryan of another universe and then shenanigans ensue because obviously that’s not ryan he’s trying to murder everything in a two-mile radius

but i also get a kick out of the concept that achievement hunter ryan is just so goddamn weird that nobody notices anything’s amiss for, like. a while.

so like maybe minecraft mad king ryan is swapped out with regular ryan, and when he returns everybody’s like, “oh, hey, you’re finally back!”

and ryan’s like, “how’d you know it wasn’t me? was he trying to enslave you all or something?”

“well, yeah, but we thought that was just you, like. method acting.”

“what.”

“ryan, last week you threw knives into the wall.”

“then how the hell did you know it wasn’t me?”

“oh, michael brought in donuts and you didn’t want any.”

hi can I get a fuckin uhhhhhhh

badass, accomplished, intelligent leader Lance who is strong in his own right and doesn’t need to be coddled and doesn’t take shit from others AND PEOPLE ACTUALLY LISTEN TO HIM AND RESPECT HIM

In Barcelona,

Yuuri is so beautiful. 

The night after the marketplace, he dozes at Victor’s side, and his chest is a tempered lull of waves, cresting and falling over and again with every breath. His eyelashes fan out over his cheeks, dark and rich, warm reddish undertones to the same inky black that makes up his brows, the fringe of his hair. There’s a gentle slope to Yuuri’s nose that is nothing like the angular lines of Victor’s own face—Victor traces down the bronzed bridge with the tip of his finger, feather-light. There’s a sunburst in his heart that’s ready to explode and erupt from behind his adoring eyes where they’re fixed on his love, his Yuuri.

Yuuri, asleep in the long lines of light cast through the hotel window. Yuuri, with his gold band hugging his finger, a fierce gleam that is undeniable, unmistakable. Victor puts their hands together to see those rings beside each other one more time, and once more again. He can’t get enough of it, that knowing.

Yuuri is mine. Yuuri wants me. Yuuri asked me to be his.

It’s more tempting than the sway of Yuuri’s hips from almost a year ago, more intoxicating than the dry fizz of remembered champagne. Victor cannot deny anything that Yuuri asks him, whether in drunken lisps and jumbled slurs, or in coy glances and rosy cheeks. 

Victor would do anything, oh, anything. 

Everything makes sense in retrospect. Victor is an idiot, or maybe they both are. 

Of course Yuuri doesn’t remember, of course, of course—

It doesn’t matter, Victor thinks, and it really doesn’t. Yuuri is his now, his to keep. And come better or worse, hell or high water, final or first, he will be Yuuri’s. 

But he wants to take it all back, all the angry little thoughts he never said aloud, all the petty, tiny hatreds that were so, so wrong to think that Yuuri could ever hurt him like that on purpose. Hesitant Yuuri. Loving Yuuri. Yuuri, softly slumbering beside him, radiating sleep heat, damp with drool at the corner of his lips.

Victor’s Yuuri.

And he is Yuuri’s Victor. Husband-to-be. Coach. Fiancé. Everything all spread out before him, balancing on a blade’s edge, weighing the worthiness of his love against Yuuri’s glass heart.

I want to be his. I want it more than anything. I’ll swear to never skate again if I can be his. I’ll do anything. Victor’s heart stutters as he scoots closer and settles comfortably against Yuuri’s body, momentarily content.

But in the end Yuuri’s glass heart shatters (as it always does) and Victor realizes that this does matter. Victor falls on his knees in the pieces and he bleeds, because he’d do anything, he said so. He picks up the shards one by one, cradles them in his own arms until he falls apart. Broken and shielding the fractured bits of Yuuri, Victor finally loses hold of himself. 

There are pieces that belong to Yuuri that lodge themselves in Victor’s skin. There are bits of Victor that make their way into the jumble. He does his best to give it all back with the words how much longer are you going to stay in warm-up mode? and he thinks then that they both finally get it and it starts to feel real.

They mix. They meld. What emerges from their clash of misunderstandings is neither Victor nor Yuuri, but a whole new pair of creatures glittering and shining under the lights.

They hold each other despite the boards between them, and in front of a million eyes and a thousand cameras, they both cry.

It’s the death of what they’ve known. But It’s the birth of something so much more important. 

They get engaged in Barcelona.

It’s the end of a year.

It’s the start of forever.

May the heavens bless Luffy for coming up with the perfect words to relieve Sanji of his terrible burden.

If you think about it, up to this point this arc was everything about Sanji not being allowed to be his true self - he was ridiculed and abused by his own family for being kind, for being vulnerable, for being human. Part of the reason why he was still in so much agony even when he was free to leave was because his kind and vulnerable inner self was demanding him to save even his cruelest abusers. 

But Luffy gives him the affirmation to be who he is, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He’s basically telling Sanji that he didn’t expect any less of him, that such kindness is why he wants him back and why he chose him as his cook in the first place. To Luffy, no more explanation or apology is needed in Sanji being Sanji, regardless of what kind of danger that may bring forth. If that is not the greatest salvation for Sanji’s poor soul in this arc, I don’t know what is. 

Something I wish Inquisition had given us: the option to just hang out with our friends.

We have friendly rooftop time with Sera and it’s wonderful. But where is my option to spar with Cassandra? To ask Blackwall to teach me woodworking, or Solas to teach me painting? To ask Bull if he wants a drink? To sit in a corner and read with Dorian? To wander Skyhold with Cole looking for hurts to help? To listen to Varric tell a story? To discuss fashion with Vivienne? To play more chess games with Cullen? To have another long balcony talk with Josephine? To pray to the Maker with Leliana if faithful, or to just persuade her to take a five minute break to chat if not?

Non-romantic time spent together. Give it to me.

you belong among the wildflowers

Dex is at least 93% sure Nursey has a little bit of magic in him.

It has to be magic, the way everything looks a little brighter when Nursey’s around. The way leaves follow him wherever he goes. The way the flowers on Nursey’s windowsill bloom and grow despite the crappy weather. The way the wind always catches him just right. The way the sun finds him wherever they go. He suspects Nursey’s descended from some kind of forest fairy or something.

No one believes him, is the thing.

Nursey laughs and kisses him on the cheek whenever Dex says anything about it. Chowder calls him a lovesick goober. Bitty giggles and calls him a sweetheart.

“Honey, that’s just love,” his mom says on the phone one day.

“No - I mean, obviously I’m in love with him, but this is something else!”

“You always were a romantic,” she sighs.

He stops bringing it up to other people, because no one’s going to believe him anyway. He still asks Nursey about it, though. Half because he believes one day Nursey will break and tell him he’s part-nymph and half because Nursey always smiles so bright when Dex calls him magic.

“If I find some sort of witch in my ancestry, you’ll be the first to know, Dexy,” Nursey laughs, leaning down to pick up a flower that definitely wasn’t blooming that full before Nursey touched it.

“I don’t think you’re a witch,” Dex sighs, “I think you’re… I dunno, some forest spirit or something.”

“I don’t think forest spirits live in New York,” Nursey grins.

“Well I don’t think humans are this pretty,” Dex counters, reaching out to cup Nursey’s cheek.

“Flatterer,” Nursey says, shaking his head as he leans in for a kiss.

The kiss is short and sweet. It sends shivers up Dex’s spine and makes his blood sing.

“Yep,” he concludes when Nursey pulls back, “Definitely magic.”

Nursey’s pretty green eyes absolutely sparkle when he smiles at that.