Preparing to go on a road trip with a few friends today, we're going to pick up a friend from the airport a state over, and my fingertips are buzzing... I am trying to be oh so very chill
The above is a video shared by smrchildsadness on Twitter, showing a person participating in a pride parade exchanging a pride flag with a person standing on his (am using his pronoun based on the TikToks/Tweets of what happened) doorway who had a Portuguese flag. There are sounds of cheers and crying and the two people hug each other as they exchange the flags. The man at the doorway then waved kisses to the crowd within the pride parade.
The Tweet says: "NO YOU DONT UNDERSTAND HE WAS WAVING THE PORTUGUESE FLAG BECAUSE HE DIDN'T HAVE A PRIDE FLAG AND THEY TRADED FLAGS AND HE'S SO EMOTIONAL TO GET HIS OWN PRIDE FLAG I'M EMOTIONALLY RUINED"
For context, apparently they were worried that maybe he's a nationalist because he was waving the Portuguese flag and some nationalists opposing the pride march were waving that flag. But upon interacting with him, it turns out he didn't have have a pride flag and he wanted to wave *a* flag in support of the pride march. So they had an exchange and now he has his own pride flag 😭🥹.
The image above is a Tweet by kunwara_ladkaa that says "I'm crying so much right now (Image taken by Manuel Fernando Araújo/Lusa)". The image shows the same man from the pride parade crying as he hugs his new pride flag.
The above image is a Tweet by dudz_zZzz that says "ainda não parei de pensar nele," which according to Google translate from Portuguese to English is "I still haven't stopped thinking about him." The image is a drawing of the person from the pride parade, crying as he hugs his new pride flag.
Preparing to go on a road trip with a few friends today, we're going to pick up a friend from the airport a state over, and my fingertips are buzzing... I am trying to be oh so very chill
Preparing to go on a road trip with a few friends today, we're going to pick up a friend from the airport a state over, and my fingertips are buzzing... I am trying to be oh so very chill
I see your “Rocky swears like a sailor but only in pitches humans can’t hear/refuses to teach Grace what those words mean” and raise you “Rocky swears like a sailor and now has to explain to Grace that ‘bad bad bad’ isn’t actually a sequence you play on your Eridian speech piano in polite company.”
Grace is both horrified and amused to realise that a more accurate translation for what Rocky’s been saying is “shit shit shit”.
The young man frowned slightly as another small group whispered amongst themselves before crossing to the other side of the road. Rude… Lotus thought to herself. And looked back at the young man. He didn’t seem surprised by it at all, as if he were used to such encounters. Lotus couldn’t for the life of her determine why. He looked… fine. Solidly built, with soft brown hair, dark blue eyes, and rounded ears like any other human. He wore a long cobalt overcoat with fine silver stitching and an elegant sword across his back. Honestly, he looked a bit like a prince to Lotus… She cleared her throat slightly.
“Would it be alright if I took a peek inside?” He considered for a moment before stepping back inside and holding the door open. She supposed it made sense that he lingered to observe if he’d been sent to investigate it officially in some capacity. She summoned a bit of faelight to her palm and looked around the empty shelves and counter. Nothing. Just as he’d said… She looked back to apologize for having wasted his time when she saw him kneeling down, carefully pulling up a piece of paper from between two loosened floorboards. She brought the light a bit closer.
“Carnival of Mirrors…” he read out quietly before tucking the page into his pocket and making for the door. Lotus followed. Obviously. “So, where is it?” she asked, and he barely paused a step to say, “I don't recall inviting you along.” Lotus clicked her tongue, “Come on, you didn't even find that until I started looking.” When he still didn't even turn his head to look at her, she recited a few different words from the spellbook. He cursed as the page flew from his pocket to her hand. She smiled sweetly and held the paper aloft. “Would you look at that? I think you'll find I can be very helpful in an instance like this.” His frown deepened, and for a moment she worried that he would still go on without her. “Fine. Come on. We're wasting time.” He returned to his path, and Lotus fell into step next to him. She was surprised to find that she had to quicken her steps to keep up with him. She didn't normally have to try to keep pace with humans… “I'm Lotus, by the way. And this is Pepper.” Lotus introduced herself and the hound but found that the young man was not quite so eager to share. “You know, if you don't tell me what to call you, then I'll have to make something up.” She mused on the subject. Dud or Killjoy seemed a little overly mean-spirited, but he wasn't giving her a lot to work with… “Sylvain.” He finally ground out, and Lotus nodded. “Well, nice to meet you, Sylvain.”
Lotus’s ankles were aching by the time they made it to the next town, but she wasn’t about to admit that to Sylvain. She took the flyer out of her bag to check it for directions to the Carnival of Mirrors.
“This says that it’s being held in the field nearby. Does this town normally hold events this early in the Spring?” she asked, and Sylvain shook his head. It was too cold to be wandering around an outdoor festival. The people here were still walking around in winter coats and fur-lined cloaks. If there were fewer people around, she might use a bit of magic to warm herself up, but for now she’d just have to pray for some lit braziers to linger by. Sylvain stopped so abruptly that Lotus almost couldn’t avoid crashing into his back. “What gives?”
“Here.” He pulled his gloves off and offered them to her. “I’m not going to take your gloves,” she protested, but he didn’t pull them back. “Don’t be proud, you’ve been shivering since the halfway mark.” Lotus swiped the gloves and scowled, “I’m not proud. I just don’t see why you’d give a shit.” He waited for her to put the gloves on. They were warm, though she supposed that wasn’t too surprising considering he’d spent the majority of the walk with his hands buried in the pockets of his coat. “We’ve still got a ways to go till we reach the field. It’s easier to talk if I don’t have to shout to be heard over your chattering teeth, no?” Lotus extended a middle finger in his direction and was surprised when he cracked a smile in response. He pushed her hand down. “None of that, the locals will be wary of you as it is.”
Lotus rolled her eyes but fell into step next to him once more. At least her fingers weren’t frozen anymore. That was an improvement.
“You can’t be from the Spring Court if early spring is getting to you this easily,” he observed, and Lotus conceded.
“I’m not. My friend lives there, he’s covering for me today.” “You should be careful about telling people that. A lot of people are willing to take advantage of a lady traveling by herself.” Sylvain warned, directing them down side streets, only barely looking at the signs and storefronts for direction. “What about you then? You walk around rather freely all things considered. Or perhaps that's just because you’re a young man and not a-” He jerked her arm back, and Lotus yelped as a carriage shot past them, sending dust and gravel flying up off the road. Pepper growled and barked at the quickly retreating carriage, but Lotus coughed in the midst of the new debris in the air. “If you’re going to scold me, at least watch where you’re going while you do it. Are you alright?” he demanded, and Lotus nodded once her heart slowed to a regular rhythm. “Does everyone drive like that?” she asked, and Sylvain shook his head. “Not everyone. Just the self-important assholes…”
He directed her toward the side of the path so that he was walking next to the road instead. A precaution against any more carriage incidents, probably. She almost didn’t realize he'd asked a question.
“I’m sorry, say that again?”
“Where are you from if not the Spring Court?” he repeated, keeping an eye on the road and Pepper. The hound still growled at anyone who wandered too close, but she’d at least stopped paying Sylvain much mind. “A few places, I guess? I live in the Day Court with my parents, but I was born in the Autumn Court, and I spend a lot of time in Spring and Summer… What about you? Have you always lived in the same place?” Sylvain nodded and declined to elaborate on the subject, so Lotus looked at his coat again, at the family crest sewn into the fabric over his heart. “What is that?” she asked, and Sylvain looked down to check what she was looking at. “A badger. It’s my family crest. The courts have crests too, don’t they?” Lotus nodded, and the pair fell silent again, making the rest of the trip quietly. A striking silver badger on a field of cobalt fabric. Lotus had read about an insignia like that somewhere. Or maybe she’d heard about it in a story? Either way, the details eluded her now.
When they finally happened upon the indicated field, it became clear that the earlier assumption, that it was too cold for people to be wandering a festival, was shared by the town's residents. It was mostly made up of worn-out-looking tents and run-down traveling carts.
“Do you hear that?” Lotus asked, and Sylvain tipped his head to listen. He eventually shook his head.
“No, what is it?” She nodded for him to follow her, and he trailed her through the ‘carnival’. She stopped in front of a cart where an old woman sat tuning the strings of an unfamiliar instrument. The cart had windows darkened by some red fabric, and the half-rotting boards were flecked and stained with some blue liquid. Lotus felt something off about the stains. Something about them made her stomach turn, and she nearly turned to bolt when Sylvain rested a hand on her back. The old woman finally looked at them. She grinned at them with teeth like rusted iron.
"This is hardly the kind of place for young couples, boy… You should find something more suitable for your wife…” Lotus blinked a few times before shaking her head as Sylvain jerked his hand back. “He's not- We're not together like that. This is my mother's ring.” She insisted, and Sylvain stuffed his hands in his pockets. The woman laughed to herself, and Sylvain whispered. “Did you have to sound so insulted?” Lotus scoffed, “Me? You're one to talk. I'm surprised you didn't break something just now.” She whispered back. The woman regarded them with some amusement and looked at the ring. “My… I suspect you’re looking for where that came from, hm?” Lotus nodded and did her best not to step behind Sylvain when the woman finally stood. She pried the door to her cart open. “Well… I have answers should you be so inclined…” She stepped further into the dark cart, and Lotus found Sylvain's hand wrapped around her wrist this time. A warning. “What?” She asked quietly, and he stared into the dark compartment, unblinking. “I don't trust this. Not even slightly. Are whatever answers you're looking for truly worth all this trouble?” Lotus bit the inside of her cheek, a bad habit she’d probably picked up from her mother’s own tendency to bite her lip when she needed to think on something. One that Tristian had warned Lotus against several times… “I might not have another chance…” she said quietly and looked back at the cart. “You don’t have to come in with me.” She tried but his grip didn’t loosen. “You’re living in another dimension if you think I’d let anyone step foot into that thing alone.”
They both looked at the open cart. Dark and impossibly warm… it made Lotus’s skin crawl. But… at least she wouldn’t be facing whatever this was on her own.
Mor had always thought Beron Vanserra to be the least intimidating High Lord of Prythian. He did not dress with any of the intimidating spikes of Day or Winter. He did not seem to think to tower over anyone like Rhysand's father or the High Lord of Spring. Beron looked… strikingly normal by comparison. And yet all gave him a wide berth. His sons did not make eye contact unless addressed, and there was a nervousness to his wife that Mor recognized from her own mother. How she'd tiptoed around Keir after any rough meeting. Except there didn't seem to be a moment so far that the Lady of Autumn had had free to take a breath.
Eris had been tense the moment the Forest House came into view, a careful neutral expression falling over his face when he saw his parents both up front to greet them. The Lady of Autumn had helped Mor down from her horse, and given her hands a gentle squeeze.
“My, you're even more lovely than they said.” She brought Morrigan’s hand up to examine and smiled warmly. “Just as I thought. It suits you, my dear.” Mor wasn't sure what to say. The Lady of Autumn didn't look much older than her. Not by fae standards anyhow. “I… Thank you, my lady.” Mor bowed her head, but the Lady lifted Morrigan’s face back up. “Oh, I won't have that. Please.” Beron looked Eris over, impassive despite the bruise that had formed on his son's throat. Perhaps it was not so odd a sight…
“This way, you two.” He issued the order with the confidence of one who was never questioned. And Eris followed with the obedience of one who had learned not to do the questioning. The Lady of Autumn dropped Morrigan’s hands and allowed her daughter-in-law to follow Beron and Eris. The Forest House was as Eris said. Not visually intimidating from the outside but far more expensive than the top-most layer would have you believe. She was underground again. This new cage felt far too familiar… she flinched only slightly when Eris took her hand. He did not look at her, kept his eyes locked on the back of Beron's head, but he dared to show this little sliver of reassurance to his wife. Mor gave his hand a small squeeze in return. A reminder of their agreement in as many words as were safe to utter here. We're in this together.
Beron opened a door, and she followed Eris inside. It was an office of some sort. A grand study with picture windows set behind a large leather chair and expensive heavy wooden desk. Bookshelves lined the left and right walls, and a bar cart sat neatly maintained in the corner. Mor's father would have enjoyed this room. That thought alone was enough to make Mor wish for the entire house to erupt in flame. Beron took a seat in that leather chair, and for a moment he truly did appear as the imposing High Lord of Autumn. Yellow and orange light framed him like fire and glinted off the bits of golden laurel in his hair. Eris motioned for Mor to take a seat in one of the plain wooden chairs in front of the desk. She did, and Eris took up the other. Beron looked between them.
“Well… you seem… settled.” He observed, and Eris said nothing in return. Mor followed suit. Eris had far more experience with Beron, and if he thought it best to remain silent, then she would. “I take it you are well and truly healed by now, Morrigan?” He looked directly at her now, and she resisted the instinct to shrink down in her chair. Hadn't she just spent the last week repairing that willingness to bite back at people? She would not let it crumble upon impact with this High Lord.
“Very well, my Lord. I am grateful for your patience.” She folded her hands in her lap. No need to bite yet though. She could simply remain poised to do so if necessary. But Beron had yet to say anything truly reprehensible. “I suppose we should get to it. I trust you both understand the gravity of recent decisions.” Eris nodded along as his father spoke. Mor said nothing for the time being. Beron looked at his eldest son. “Where did you get that?” He asked so directly Mor found herself more than a little jarred. She was quite used to people beating around such subjects. Eris leaned back in his chair. “A tussle with someone in town. Hardly anything to get worked up over.” Beron lingered only a moment before declaring, “You're dismissed. I expect to speak with you in private later. For now I'd have a word with your wife.” Eris tensed slightly but stood. She almost asked him to stay, but to do so would be to show her hand to Beron immediately. So she contained her flinch as the door clicked shut behind Eris.
Beron stood and made his way to the bar cart. He silently fixed a drink and set it down before Morrigan.
“Congratulations, my dear.” Morrigan did her best to mask her confusion. He pushed the glass into her hand this time and leaned casually against the desk. “I always knew you were quite clever… I think you'll do rather well here. And you have my thanks for getting here in a way that keeps me from having to follow through on that offer from Keir. After all, how could anyone stomach working with the people who had brutalized their beloved daughter-in-law?” Beron chuckled to himself, and Mor looked at the drink in her hands. Beron sighed, “I doubt that's any comfort to you, but I also doubt that you'll be surprised to hear that. You have your husband for comfort. Speaking of which,” Beron cleared his throat. “I'd like you to tell me what happened to his throat.” Mor swallowed, “Pardon? Eris said-” Beron lifted a hand, stopping her short. “I’m not looking for my son’s echo.” He let his hand drop back down. “I know Eris has a tendency to hide things from me. I won’t tell you that I’m not inclined to ask you to spy on him for me, but I’m also well aware that whatever pact you two have is likely to supersede whatever I may offer you. But I don’t want to be your enemy, Morrigan. I will probably never be anything like a friend, but I don’t see any reason for us to start things off poorly. Just tell me what happened...”
Tell him what happened… Morrigan was not a good liar. Maybe she could get away with leaving out details, but wouldn’t any truth be contradicting Eris? What would it mean for Eris if the first thing she did upon arriving at the Forest House was tell Beron that he’d lied? She took a breath and smiled.
“It’s as he said, I’m afraid. I didn’t see how it started, just… how it ended.” Beron nodded slowly, watching her expression oh so carefully…
“I see… Well, I’m sorry to hold you behind then.” He pushed off the desk and opened the door once more, revealing a young boy waiting dutifully outside. Beron frowned. “Ciel… Where is your mother?” The young boy must have been one of Eris’s brothers. His hair leaned more towards Beron’s brown than his wife’s red, but Mor recognized that mask of emotionlessness from the boy’s oldest brother. How young were these boys when they first learned how to protect themselves like that..? Ciel looked past his father for a moment to look at Mor before he said,
“She went to help the nursemaid with Henri.” Beron looked to a nearby clock and clicked his tongue. “Very well then. Would you show Morrigan to her and Eris’s new suite?” Ciel bowed his head politely, and Beron motioned for Mor to vacate the room. She did not object. “I will see you tomorrow.” was all Beron said before he shut the door once again, leaving Morrigan alone in the hall with Ciel.
Ciel looked between her and the door, like he was considering saying something to her. But he didn’t breathe a word before turning on his heel and walking down the hall. Without many options, Mor followed.
in just a few moments, we'll be announcing the 2026 Carabiner Queen. but first, we have a few other awards to distribute >:)
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🏆 our 2026 Crossover Cuntessa, awarded to the character featured in the most maasverse crossovers, is...
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Nesta Archeron 💐
she's scissoring all over the multiverse, let's give it up for Lady (Little) Death! (u know like la petite mort...bc . orgasm)
🏆 our 2026 People's Choice Award for the character who received the most community votes goes to...
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Manon Blackbeak 💐
the people's lesbian <3 aka a man-eating witch who loves her dog wyvern and hangs out almost exclusively with other women I KNOW that's right
🏆 our 2026 U-Haul Award for the most common ship aka the characters who should really just go ahead and start dating, maybe move in together in a week or two goes to...
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Gwynlain 💐
get on it girls!!! the two of u dating could heal this fandom!!!
character art from madschofield | cute dividers here <3
(Another snippet, from the new WIP chapter for Golden Hour)
The old woman finally looked at them. She grinned at them with teeth like rusted iron.
"This is hardly the kind of place for young couples, boy… You should find something more suitable for your wife…” Lotus blinked a few times before shaking her head as Sylvain jerked his hand back. “He's not- We're not together like that. This is my mother's ring.” She insisted, and Sylvain stuffed his hands in his pockets. The woman laughed to herself and Sylvain whispered. “Did you have to sound so insulted?” Lotus scoffed, “Me? You're one to talk, I'm surprised you didn't break something just now.” She whispered back.
2087
origamiaround
dededos
dailybridgerton
izzy806
blakekathryn
