☆ Annie ☆ > Recent Status Updates

That! Scene! In! The! Desert! *passes out*

JAY, YOU DIDN'T!!!!!! 😩😩😩😩😩

'WELL: JEAN-FRANÇOIS CLEARED his throat, dipping his quill. 'Shit?"
The Last Liathe looked across the river, pale lips curled.
'A poet as well as a historian. You are a creature of many talents, Marquis.'

hehehehe

He adjusted his jacket. "Well, I'll attempt to find you a suitable present that can compare to an entire desert retreat, but don't hold me to it." Yrene looped her arm through Chaol's free one, no more than a healer escorting her patient to the table. "I have everything I need," was all she said.

The way these two make me lose my freaking mind.

"Do you keep records? Of all this?" He gestured between them.
Yrene's face heated. "Parts of it. Not when you're acting like a stubborn ass."

These two and all my feels 🥹

Chaol stared up at the arched, painted ceiling as Yrene poked and prodded his pectorals, the muscles of his abdomen, those along his ribs. She reached the vee of muscles leading beneath his pants, kept moving lower, and he demanded, "Really?"
Yrene shot him an incredulous look. "Is there something you're particularly embarrassed for me to see?"

Oh how I've missed them 😁😁😁

'And what did he do, Mile Castia?"
[…] But she found no trace, and thoughts brushing feather-soft upon the Marquis's, she felt only genuine curiosity, and a hint of the candlelight warmth that dwells ever in the heart of the secret romantic.
The only reply she gave was a smile.
Jean-François smiled in kind.
'He took your hand.'

🥹🥹🥹🥹

"To a better future," she said.
"You came back," he said, as if that were an answer.
They joined hands.
So the world ended.
And the next one began.

The way this gives me chills, every! single! time! 🥹

''I was in love once."
"Your Philipp?."
"We shook our head, eyes drifting to the porthole glass. We could see no shadow there, but I knew he was listening. Waiting. "No. Philippe would have made a fine husband. But though I died with him, I did not die for him."

Nevermind, I'm just here dying one word at a time 🖤

'Damned heathens.'
You speak of them so fondly, too.' Jean-François dipped his quill and tutted. I simply cannot imagine why they'd forsake the pleasures of your company, Mile Castia.
Celene rolled her eyes, but ignored the jab.

Jean-François has been everything I didn't know I needed 😌 and also LOL

I dragged myself upright, looking to my shaking hands, still smeared with the blood of the Holy Grail. And I said what anyone in my place would have at that moment.'
'Fuck my face?' Jean-François asked.
The silversaint nodded.
'Fuck my face.'

hehehehe

“Promise me,” she repeated, looking at their hands again, “that you will walk out of that castle tomorrow.”
He’d wondered why she’d brought him in here. The Sea God—and the God of Oaths.
He squeezed her hand. She squeezed back.
Gold light rippled on the surface of the Sea God’s fountain, and Chaol offered up a silent prayer. “I promise.”

I am OKAY😭

What if we go on,” he said, “only to more pain and despair? What if we go on, only to find a horrible end waiting for us?”
Aelin looked northward, as if she could see all the way to Terrasen. “Then it is not the end.”

Some things, there is no getting over 🤍

They were all young and beautiful, with hair and skin of every shade and color. But even from the distance, she picked out the one Rowan had pointed to. Her hair was like living moonlight, her eyes like burnished gold.
She was the most beautiful person Aelin had ever seen.
And the most horrifying.

The way I die for Manon 🖤🥹

"Wonder on, then," my cousin replied coolly, not meeting my eyes. "Not everyone needs drunken buskers and brothel troubadours to sing of their exploits. Some are content that the Father shall count their worth on their day of judging."
'"Spend lots of time in the company of brothel troubadours, do you?"

*insert snort-laugh* 🤭

Well, it had been 54 pages without a dead horse. I should have known better...

'You were afraid.'
Gabriel glanced up, sharp eyes fixing the historian opposite.
'Of falling for another,' Jean-François said, dipping his quill. Difficult to blame you, I suppose. You put your Astrid on such a pedestal, what breathing woman could compare?'
'Know me so well, do you?'
A smile tugged at the corner of ruby lips. 'Not as well as I'd like.'

The way I DIE for these exchanges, literally🖤

"You're good at this, aren't you— half truths."
"One, just because you're ... you, it doesn't entitle you to information about everything I do. Two—"
"There you go with the lists again."

The way I could read these interactions between Aedion and Aelin forever and ever and everrrrr 🥹

"It was worth it," he said, his smile fading. "You were worth it. All these years, all the waiting. You're worth it." He'd known the moment she had looked up at him as she stood before his execution block, defiant and wicked and wild.

🥹🥹🥹

The thoughts opened up like a precipice before her, so many all at once that she stepped back. Turned away.
Made, made, made.
Manon climbed into the saddle and was glad to lose herself in the sky.

Ah, Manon 🖤

For a moment, she could see Rowan there—that harsh, unforgiving face softened into handsomeness by sleep, his silver hair glimmering in the morning light, so stark against the tattoo stretching from his left temple down his neck, over his shoulder, all the way to his fingertips.

I am totally totally totally fine. Totally.

"Fly, Abraxos," she breathed.
Abraxos sucked in a great breath, tucked his wings in tight, and fell off
the side of the post.
He liked to do that-just tumble off as though he'd been struck dead.
Her wyvern, it seemed, had a wicked sense of humor.

That sweet, dramatic little summer boi 🥹🥹🥹

I always forget what a first class moron Chaol is at the beginning of this…

Alis squeezed my hand. "Blood rubies or no, you will always have one friend in the Summer Court."
My throat bobbed. "And you will always have one in mine," I promised her.
She knew which court I meant. And did not look afraid.

🖤

... so I was certain whatever approached through that dark was no vampire.'
The Last Silversaint chuckled, twirling his goblet between clever fingers.
"You can imagine my surprise when the fucker burst through the window
and tried to take off my head.'
'THE FUCKER?' JEAN-FRANÇOIS glanced up from his tome. Was that a title or occupation?'

NO ONE makes me laugh like Jay 🤭🤣😆🖤

Mor said quietly, "Is it so bad—to be his mate? To be a part of our court, our family, tangled history and all?"
I blended the paint in the small dish, the colors swirling together like so many entwined lives. "No," I breathed. "No, it's not."
And I had my answer.

Ah these chapters. Ah.

"To the people who look at the stars and wish, Rhys."
He picked up his glass, his gaze so piercing that I wondered why I had bothered blushing at all for Tarquin.
Rhys clinked his glass against mine. "To the stars who listen—and the dreams that are answered."

I'm sorry, I don't care how many years it's been, but these lines get me every single time ✨✨✨