#Melanie Pebbles

[tadpolesonalgae]

Azriel x Third-oldest-Archeron-sibling!Reader: Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 3

A/N: I think reader is beginning to realise something was up with Azzie’s behaviour…

Apologies if you’re not a gold-jewellery person (I’m not either, don’t worry)

Warnings: general angst because you sickos love it for some reason (it’s affectionate, I swear), Pity Party by Melanie Martinez vibes, Elain, 5.6K words

-Part 2- -Part 4-

You keep your eyes shut, hoping to waste another few hours, sleeping.

You want this day to be over as quickly as possible. It could never go fast enough.

Twenty-two.

Once, it was a third of your life—a quarter, if lucky. Now it’s a mere spec. A pebble beside a milestone. What is twenty-two in the face of immortality?

Awareness zips across your skin, feeling the soft drag of cotton against your toes; the warm wrap of your nightdress against the backs of your thighs. Remember how fingertips felt scraping up the skin, and tuck beneath the duvet, curling into a tight ball. Seconds tick by, slow and painful, each dragging its feet through a swamp of mud, tip-tapping and traipsing their dirty boots through your mind. You won’t get back to sleep.

But you don’t move, either.

Weighted like a stone in bed, bones made of lead, pressing you into the mattress. Even your sheets feel like soft shackles, binding your body like fine rope. A silky cocoon of your own making.

The sun rays slide down the wall, slithering across the rug, finally extinguishing as midday dawns in the city. Still, you don’t move.

Sweat beads beneath your arms, trickling down to your elbows, gathering behind your knees, saturating the sheets, making them sticky. It’s not enough to make you shift. You remain lying in the puddle of discomfort.

You push deeper beneath the duvet, temperature rising as the cotton clings to your body, sticking to you when you move to roll over. Frustration bubbles, and fizzes, then tears drip down your cheeks. They roll back into your hair, falling into your ears, and you sob harder.

The imagined smell of clean pillows, and crisp sheets revolves in your mind, and still you stay. Living through fantasy, counting the seconds.

Afternoon hits, and you’re still in bed.

Rolled onto your stomach, salty water sliding down your under arms, you turn the page. The parchment is dry, leeching moisture from your fingertips, making them feel pruny. The tears start rolling again.

Evening begins, and you’re stomach sobs with you, gnawing on your bones, as though eating itself with hunger. Sweat has dried, leaving your skin clammy and suffocated. Finally the thoughts start rolling in. The humiliation of rejection further dampening your cheeks. Merely picturing hazel eyes… You shut the book, and struggle out of bed.

The sheets are indeed tangled, wrapping and binding your limbs to the point you simply drop to the floor, hitting the wood painfully, skull clunking as your elbow whacks the bed frame. You lie still for more minutes. Wallowing. Eventually drag yourself out of the mess.

First, open the curtains wider, taking in the orange and pinks of the sky, the full, billowing clouds fluffing the cobalt… Blue siphons glitter behind your eyes, water spilling as your lip wobbles. They blaze with vibrant fury, simmering with unfathomable darkness, and the curtains snap shut.

You remove your night dress, throwing it into the wicker basket, dragging yourself to the washroom as your head pulses and aches from lying down too long. Heat ravishes your skin, a fresh wave of sweat coating your body. Water washes over your back, pouring down your front, bathing you until clean. Not an ounce of grime left marring your body.

You try the windows again, the heavens filled with orange and blue, purply-greys rising with the oncoming night. How have you nearly slept away the day? And yet it’s still not over.

Voices echo from somewhere below you—the kitchen. You cover your face with your hands, exhaling heavily. They’re all there. All waiting just beneath you. Knees nearly buckle.

Heart spikes in your chest at the thought of…

Birthdays used to be wonderful, full of gifts and vibrant colours, smelling of fresh flowers and tasting syrupy and sweet. Now they’re wretched and dull, a pressure around your throat as another year ticks by and nothing’s changed. You’ve done nothing. Sat around, taking up space, draining money, expending resources. And nothing to say for it. Just a stack of books by your bed, selling second after second, minute after minute, draining the days away. Draining the years away.

Muscle trembles, bones crumbles as you land on the floor, curled into a ball before the mirror, unable to look at the waste you’ve become. Everything has a function, everything has some sort of purpose, some duty to fulfil, executing their actions with mechanical precision. Moving because they have to. It’s what they’re formed to do. Yet bring choice into the equation, and everything stops. It becomes unreliable, and uncertain. Unpredictable.

So much choice it’s overwhelming. So many pathways, so many decisions. So many conclusions. Everything would be so much simpler if will was subtracted from the sum. Leaving you with narrow walls to keep you on course, the gust of wind propelling you forward. Without those things, your actions are your own, and you’ve plummeted from the path.

Mind buzzes and whirrs, firing off thoughts and clipped phrases, one blending into another. Chaos and mess fusing in a liquid covalent bond, linking their talons through sinew and cartilage. Hooking into your brain. Ripping into the tissue. Licking their fingers clean.

Three knocks tap to your skull, tripping through cartilage, tumbling to stone.

“Hello?” You call, forcing your voice to be even. Balancing out waves, crests and troughs synchronising.

“Are you going to be up soon? I haven’t seen you all day!” Feyre.

You scowl, hunching over yourself, nails raking through your hair, pushing the dried tails from your face. “I’ve been up for a while,” you reply, shortly, “reading.”

“Well, we’re having dinner together tonight, and it’s nearly ready, so come down soon!” She calls back, and you can imagine the way her ear is inevitably pressed flat against the door. Busybody, like the rest of them.

When you don’t reply, she steps back, walking away down the hallway, returning to the kitchen where the laughter blares and bubbles.

You slump over, spilling across the floor as you lie, limp. Strength falling from your muscles, as though they’re delocalising from your flesh and bone. You imagine sinking your hands onto your thighs, how your meat would come apart like perfectly prepared pulled pork. How your gluons would simply release; allow you to dissolve onto someone’s plate, drowned in gravy and dusted with rosemary.

Thoughts ebb and flow, trickling through your conscious like thickened cake batter over the edge of a mixing bowl, dripping from the table to splatter on the floor. Only to be wiped away seconds later, cleanly obliterated. Tiny explosions blow behind your eyelids, prickling until salt stings and spills.

The sun sinks, darkness settling like a veil over the city, horizon dimming to deeper, inky greys. Shoulders ache, bones grinding against one another, catching muscle and flesh between them. Still you lie, unmoving. Light, shallow breaths evenly dripping from your lips.

Another set of knocks in the same cadence. “Food’s ready!” She calls. The words thud dully in your ears, landing at the dried up base of the well. Prevented from settling deeper. “Will you be down soon?” She asks hopefully, voice blaring through your carefully cultivated silence. “Be down soon,” you call back, letters automatic and mechanical. Precise and unthinking. Words lilt and inflect, while your features remain stiff, eyes unseeing as they stare out.

She traipses away again.

Your mind falls back to sleep.

Tumbling through portals, falling into vortexes, tripping down tunnels. Flying through secret hatches in time, spilling across horizons and shooting up, up, up into the atmosphere.

Thoughts waver and crumble, disintegrating into galaxy coloured sprays of starlight, swirling and exploding like the movement of the Starry Night. Feyre had showed you that one, once.

When was the last time you’d had time to spend with any of them, individually? Now with Nyx around, her attention is spread thin. Navigating wife, sister, and mother. High Lady, too.

Mother, Wife, High Lady. Then Sister.

Maybe you were being harsh on her. After all, what do you know about having so many roles to play? Having achieved all those titles, fulfilled each one and continuing to do so while avoiding jeopardising another. Would you be able to handle what she does? A year younger than you. Already with a husband and a child. A whole Court at her fingertips.

Are you done with the nosey speculation into other people’s relationships, or is that how you’ve found yourself filling your time?

You blink, his voice ringing in your mind.

Is that how you’ve come to preoccupy yourself? Complaining about her success? What happened to being happy for her achievements? To being proud of your sister? At what point had it become a competition?

When had you started comparing yourself to them?

A stone sinks in your gut, plummeting through your stomach, dropping to your toes. Do you really fill your time by examining them? Analysing their relationships, dissecting their dynamics?

Go on, he’d said. Go on and tell me why I’m undeserving of her.

It had really come out so wrong. You hadn’t even planned on confessing to him. Had planned to keep it all to yourself. To wallow and drown, quietly, in your own secret corner.

You think you’re deserving of me?

He replays on an invisible symphonia, spinning through your world, making you dizzy as the sound whirls.

You think you’re deserving of me?

I think it’s cruel to continue asking after her when I so obviously answer every question you have just so you might pay me a little more attention.

Well done. Just open up your chest for him. Hand perfectly poised to pull your life’s muscle from your ribs. Instead he’d left it intact, an open wound to fester and turn gangrenous over time. To scar, deeply. To burn and burrow its way into your marrow. To turn bone deep, so you can begin to understand what you’d struck at.

You’d be better off turning your damn affections somewhere they’d actually be appreciated.

If you were even half the female she is, I’d be tempted to show a little interest.

How quickly the conversation had turned sour. How quickly it had flown off the pathway. How quickly blades had been drawn, poison tipped arrows fired.

At least she has someone interested in getting her into bed.

I doubt you can say the same.

A triptych of knocks lands on your door, making you flinch.

“Are you still coming down?” Feyre calls, “the food’s going to start getting cold!”

It takes a moment for your limbs to unfreeze, unstick themselves from your mind’s trap. “I’m—…” You’re not going down there. Not into that room, filled with so many people. She calls your name, a little confusion shining through, dragging you from your haze.

“I’m getting tired, Fey,” you manage back, not quite disguising the bone-deep fatigue that’s riddling your body. “I think I’m just going to go to bed,” you call.

“Oh…” she sounds surprised. A little crestfallen. “Are you sure? I mean, I haven’t seen you in a while, and we’re all down there, so…it would be nice. To spend time with you.”

You’re quiet, unable to formulate an appropriate response. You can hear her hesitating, too.

Then. “Can I come in?” She asks softly.

You freeze up, taking in your state. Clean, but messy. A few too many things out of place to be okay. Before you can skilfully deny her, she continues on. “I—… There are some things I want to ask you about.”

Her voice is soft, and quiet. Navigating High Lady and sister. Maybe you don’t give her enough credit. Then again, she should obviously be playing your sister right now.

“Let me put some more clothes on,” you respond with, swallowing as you get to your feet, picking up a few books here and there; grabbing your sheets to return them to the bed. Quickly, you shuck on a dress, tying your hair back into a neat-ish knot. “Okay,” you call, “I’m dressed.”

The door swings open, and her eyes scan the room, darting about before settling on you. She’s dressed nicely—she’s always dressed nicely. Whether it’s a jumper and slippers, or some kind of gown, she always looks lovely. Disgustingly put together. “What is it?” You ask, feigning sleepiness.

She shrugs casually, closing the door behind her. “I wanted to see how you were doing,” she explains, walking over to your bed. “Can I sit down?” You nod in response, then hesitate. “Maybe take the chair. It was boiling last night.” Her lips lift, a faint smile on her mouth, blue-grey eyes sparkling, “it was, wasn’t it? Rhys is going to show me how to put a temperature-maintaining ward around our bedroom. Nyx severely dislikes the heat.” Her voice lilts with laughter, and it’s easy to forget what she’s gone through. So easy to disregard every bloodied fragment when you see that smile.

“So?” She asks, conversationally. “How have you been?” You wince and her brow dips almost imperceptibly, “I really want to go to bed.”

“Oh.” She blinks. Nods slowly. “Okay.” She seems slightly upset at your not-so-subtle dismissal. At least it was gentle.

Feyre stands, runs her eyes over the stacks of books beside your bed, “have you read all these?” A heavy sigh blows from your chest, posture dissipating as your spine slouches, “Feyre…”

“Right. Yes. If you’re sure,” she says, watching you carefully. Intently. Eyes sharp. “I’m very sure,” you reply, managing a weak smile, hoping fatigue will cover for you.

She nods then, heading for the door. She stops, and you nearly groan.

“It wouldn’t…I mean, would it help if there were less of us?” She asks slowly. This time, you do groan. “Oh my gods, Feyre. I am tired. Please let me sleep.”

“So you’re not coming down at all? Even just s few minutes? Be with everyone for a bit?” She pushes, and irritation bubbles in your chest. You want to be done with this conversation. You don’t deign her with an answer. You’ve said what you want to, you’re not going to repeat yourself.

“If Azriel wasn’t there…” she says softly, taking a hesitant step toward you. You stiffen, blood freezing. “What do you mean.”

Feyre blows out a breath, brushing down her top, smoothing the nonexistent creases. “I’m not blind,” she murmurs, eyes latching onto you. “You’ve been off these past few days, and Elain—”

“What did Elain say?” You ask, skin leeching of warmth. Feyre pauses, watching you quietly. “Feyre,” you say, a little surprised at her hesitance. “If Elain said something, it’s fair for me to know.”

She sighs again, “I need you to be calm. I don’t want to argue with you. Not today. Not any other day, but particularly not today.”

“Sure. That’s why you brought this up when I’m obviously tired and irritable,” you shoot back.

She just observes you steadily, unfaltering. It makes you want to shift, and fidget. “Tell me what she said. I’ll be calm,” you say, finally, quieter than before. Still, she’s silent. Watching, weighing, judging. Busybody.

Finally, she opens her mouth, and her words nearly knock you off your feet. “She saw you in the library. Heard what you said to him.”

The floor opens up beneath you, and you spiral down. She heard your conversation with Azriel.

The nosey bitch. She had no right to pry like that. And then to bring it to your sister. The youngest of all of you.

How much more humiliation do you have to take?

“She what?” You whisper, unable to speak through your anger and hurt. Feyre gives you that look again, calming, steady, scolding. “You said you’d be calm,” she reminds, quietly. “Please keep your voice down.”

“That was none of her business!” You explode, voice raising as your hands scrunch into fists, sorrow giving way to rage. “And none of yours either, High Lady.” You spit out the title, so betrayed, and confused, you begin to switch off. It’s none of their business. They’re your emotions. Yours. Not things to be traded, and gossiped about. To be tossed around over some family dinner.

“I’m worried about you,” she says, brows curving with concern. “We all struggled with the cauldron. We struggled through the war, and everything that came after. But you’ve never shown any signs to warrant anxiousness.” Pain glimmers in her eyes, watching you steadily from across the room. Your room.

“Don’t use that as an excuse,” you bite back. “Don’t use it as an excuse to stick your nose into my life like that. It is my life.” Your voice wobbles, but remains strong, blaring through the space. “What happened between me and him is none of your concern. My relationship with Elain is none of your concern. Stop trying to find an issue with me. Something for you to fix, and put back together, so I can become part of your pretty, perfect family, too.” You nearly shout the end, vision blurring around the edges.

She blanches a little, “you need to quiet down. I will not be shouted at. You’re a grown woman, you can talk to me like one.”

“Treat me like one!” You nearly scream back, tears spilling. Her brows knot together, looking confused and disappointed. “I act, just like you,” you cry. “I’ve dealt with my own issues. I’ve kept them to myself. I’ve made. sure. not to be a burden. To you, or to anyone.” The words spill out, one after another. Brutal, and jagged in the light.

“I’ve been as cooperative as I can, I give answers if I have them, and I look for them if I don’t,” you sob, thinking of all the times he’d asked a question about Elain, so you’d repeated them back to her, stealing that information back for him. “I’ve never gone mute like Elain, I never sparked up like Nesta, I never spiralled into a depression like you. I kept myself intact. All by myself. And yet I’m the one everyone treats like a girl?” You shake as you cover your face with trembling hands, a small crack finally appearing in the damn you’ve been consistently reinforcing.

You push away your tears, trying to shut off the waterworks, finally meeting her glazed eyes. They clear when they realise you’re watching her.

“I can manage what happens between Azriel and me. It’s my business,” you repeat, the odd tear spilling as your lip wobbles. “I know I’m nothing compared to Elain. I know Mor would outshine me if I were next to her,” you cry, breaths heaving in and out in frenzied, uneven pants. Feyre’s eyes glimmer with pain, and she steps closer, arms widening a little. A silent offer. You ignore it.

“I know he doesn’t—” A sob cuts you off, lungs spasming as more walls break down, dissolving with the torrent you’ve kept at bay. Your shoulders hunch, eyes squeezing shut as you bite your lip.

“Nobody ever does,” you cry, softly, wrapping around yourself, back curving as you fold in on yourself. “He doesn’t even—… He’s never asked anything about me, but he knew…” I’m never the first choice.

Maybe the competition had been going on for longer than you’d realised.

Your voice grows softer, and her shoulders loose their tension, silence stretching through the room. Utter, devastating silence.

Not even a single, muffled laugh.

Your heart drops, stomach rising up into your throat.

You take a step forward, eyes wide.

Then vanish.

You reappear exactly one floor below, the silence not fitting in with a group of eight preternaturally still bodies. Seven pairs of eyes turn to you, filled with guilt. Almost instinctually, you seek out the darkest corner of the room, hazel piercing into you. Sharp and accusing.

You stumble under its intensity, flicking between the remaining pairs of eyes that seem to be pulling away from you. Lips part is surprise, flitting from violet, to grey-blue, to cocoa, returning to hazel.

“Good evening entertainment, huh?” You whisper, lips trembling. You don’t even know who to look at.

The High Lord opens his mouth, but Nyx begins screaming, shrill and cutting in the quiet.

Your jaw snaps shut, comprehending what just happened.

A heavy breath of air puffs from your lips, before you winnow yourself back upstairs.

Feyre’s already given you your privacy by the time you return.

————

A clock chimes somewhere in the house. Three in the morning.

The forced laughter and quiet shuffling of people had vanished around one. Two hours ago. Your stomach growls in the darkness.

How long has it been since you last ate?

You shake your head, not caring. You’re hungry, so you’ll get food.

On quiet feet, you pad into the hallway, peering both ways before tiptoeing down the corridor, listening for the sound of movement. Nothing. Silently, you descend the stairs, walking along another corridor that leads you to the kitchen. Stop in the doorway.

A cake lies on the table in the living room—adjoined to the kitchen. A polite pile of presents is stacked neatly beside it, a dull ache pressing down on your chest. Even from across the room, you can make out the pretty details. The pure white fondant, the foundations to the wobbly yellow and orange marigolds made from icing sugar, royal blue frosting squiggling the boarder, artfully dripping down the edges, like tears spilling over.

Stepping closer, the flaws become apparent, clearly decorated by people unaccustomed to creating cake toppings. The uneven petals, a dash of light blue marring the white fondant, the obvious blending point between yellow and orange. You wonder how long it took the three of them.

Sighing, you take a seat around the table, a single candle magically appearing and lighting atop it. You murmur thanks to the house, take a deep breath, and sharply puff the air out. It extinguishes instantly. Smoke drifts up in shadowy strings, the red ember winking out, and you pull the candle from the cake. A small knife appears at your side, and you cut a small chunk from its centre, getting the better part of a marigold at its tip.

It’s good—not too sweet, not too dry. Has weight to it, pleasantly spongy. The flavour lovely and—

Your vision blurs as you taste the vanilla, tiny pockets of jam infused throughout the cake. It’s the same as the recipe Elain practiced in cupcake form for a month. Practiced and persisted endlessly. Sampled until you both deemed it perfect.

No, you don’t forgive her for eavesdropping, for tattling to your sister, for being the reason the whole family now knows about your messy rejection. How unappealing you are. But she’d made this perfect for you, had practiced this recipe to death…and it counts for something.

You finish off the slice, ignoring the slight salty flavour that occasionally dripped over your lips, choosing to focus on the taste of the bespoke cake, instead.

Sitting a while in silence, thinking about everything that’s happened, you put it aside. Shift awkwardly toward the neat stack. Almost immediately drawn to the small royal blue gift box. It fits in your palm and you don’t need to read the note to know who it’s from. A tule bow is tidily pressed on the lid, shifting through vivid purples, reds, and pinks. Azriel’s gift.

It is stupid to be excited for his present?

You bite your lip, and shakily remove the top, peering down at the deep blue, satin cushion. A fearful smile lifts the edges of your mouth—disbelieving.

Inside the petite box, nestled within the plush pillow, are a pair of pearl earrings. They’re fashioned into small tear-drop like stones, golden hooks appearing at their crest. You pull them carefully from the cushion, holding them up in the moonlight, staring in wonder. They’re simple, yet elegant. An understated, subtle kind of beauty. The kind you only notice when you look closely.

You admire them for minutes, before raising them to your ears, neatly sliding them into the tiny holes. A comfortable weight, fun to play with, and tug on. You’re already in a better mood than when you came down here, a quiet smile on your lips as you remember their pretty shine.

Moving onto the next one, you begin filing through the gifts: A romance book from Nesta; from anyone else, it would have been obnoxious and self-centred, but you know how much she adores those books, and wants you to experience their happiness.

From Feyre, a miniature painting: Starfall rendered in blues, yellows, and oranges, in place of the irradiated greens and iridescent golds.

A silver embossed bookmark from Rhysand (spelled so you’ll never loose or misplace it, he’d written), making you smile.

From Cassian, necklace, a circular glass pendant hanging on the bronze chain. Peering into the glass, you can make out a small map of the world, containing the courts, the continent, and Hybern. Stretching down to the Mortal Lands too—acknowledging your past.

A small pot of crimson nail polish from Mor, coupled with a pink lipstick, making you laugh quietly. Attached is note saying she owes you a shopping trip—promising not to hijack it for clothes; to let you wonder about the various book stores.

And a 10,000 piece jigsaw from Amren—you can hear the challenge radiating from her as you pull the ribbon away.

All wonderful; all thoughtful. The seven pairs of guilty eyes that had been listening out of concern.

You rest your face in your hands, unable to resolve their opposites. The eavesdropping, but the clear attention they’ve all paid. Even if you’re in Rhys’ Inner Circle, you’d always thought you were somewhere measuring the circumference. Apparently they disagreed. You’re just as at its centre as they are.

Hot, wet droplets splash onto the wooden table, and you sniff quietly, taking long minutes to expel the sadness from behind your eyes. Finally, once they’ve dried, you reach toward Elain’s present. You’re not sure you want to see what’s inside, with how complicated your relationship has become. Still, you pull the lilac bow loose, raising the lid from the box. You stand up to look what’s contained within.

Your eyes bulge from their sockets, jaw dropping open as you see what’s inside. Slowly, carefully, you raise the mechanism from the padded inside of the box, setting it reverently on the table. Only then do you allow your hands to shake.

Sat politely before you, is an orrery.

Fingers tremble as you touch one of the planets, pushing it gently. When it moves, the cogs at its base align with one another, clicking together as each of the globes move harmoniously, spinning at their assigned paces. You wonder how accurate the spin is, what machinery they’ve used to delve so far into the universe. How wonderful it must be to live and explore.

Tears splash onto the table as you stare at the contraption. So incredible, rendered with such loving care you could cry. You are crying.

You peer closely, picking out the planet you’re on, how the world is carved into it: the land, the equator, no split lying between the previous human and faerie realms—the wall now gone. You thumb at the other spheres, staring with wide eyes as you trace small indentations made in their surface, peering and spinning the moons that rotate each. It’s utterly breathtaking; you have to blink away more wetness.

Seconds tick by, minutes draining in the blink of an eye. A clock chimes four in the morning and you’re still studying the mesmerising mechanism. How many centuries of research have created the stunning contraption? How many people dedicated their lives to discover the knowledge that is now rendered so extraordinarily before you? The detail is mind blowing, the loving rendition of the solar system, sitting on the table in a kitchen. Absolutely incredible.

You scan the array of gifts—the thoughtfulness and care that has gone into each and every one. The attention, the affection. All pieces of yourself, like looking at tiny fragments of your soul.

Muscles stiffen, eyes flicking to the empty, deep blue box. The royal blue cushion that you’d smiled so widely at. How giddy you’d been. It shrivels and warps besides the other gifts, an insult to compare them. While their gifts are clearly bespoke; unique; picked out with you in mind, the pearls…

Sorrow flushes your cheeks as you thumb free the earrings, staring at the demure jewellery. Beautiful, feminine, expensive…

Painfully generic.

A final smack in the face.

“You’re awake.”

Eyes flick up to meet cocoa. Lashes damp. Pearls tucked back in their box.

Elain walks forward on silent feet, gliding across the floor until she’s the other side of the table. Her eyes flick down to the cake, and a faint smile appears on her lips, “you had a slice.” She smoothes down her skirts, elegantly descending into a seat, “happy birthday.”

Pressure heats behind your eyelids, vision blurring, then spilling over. You bury your face in your hands as you sob, teeth biting into your lip as you try to quiet them, attempting to stop the cries that are leaking. You sniff, rubbing your skin until it feels raw. Hot and irritated from brushing tears away. Elain sits quietly, waiting for you to ready.

Once the sobs have dulled enough, you dry your eyes once more, looking at her. “Why did you tell Feyre?” You manage, throat wet, voice a little nasally from crying. Nose blocked. “Why did you listen?”

“She was worried. She asked about you, and I mentioned you’d seemed startled finding me and him in the library,” she answers calmly.

“It was none of your business,” you moan quietly, brushing away more tears. “You had no right to eavesdrop on us like that.”

Elain’s brow furrows, “I didn’t eavesdrop. All I heard were the things you said to him while I was in the room.”

You blink once. Twice.

She sighs. “I left as soon as I was out. You were in need of privacy.”

“But Feyre said you saw…what happened in the library,” you stumble, unable to bring yourself to say his name. “I did see you in the library. When you came in. And then I left.”

You blink again.

She hadn’t heard anything you and Azriel had said to one another. That was why he’d looked so accusatory. You’d gone and opened your mouth while everyone was listening. And your reaction…it didn’t make him look good.

Tears spill again as you bury your head in your hands. Shoulders shake and heave with sobs, hot liquid running between your fingers as they splash into the pool on the wooden table. He’s probably furious with you for being so oblivious. He would have noticed immediately. You cry harder.

A hand lands gently at your back, rubbing in soothing patterns. Staying beside you until you calm down. “I’m sorry…” you cry weakly, voice rasping in the silence. “I’m so sorry, ‘Lain. I thought… I’m so sorry…” Tears drip-drop steadily, but you regain control of your voice. “It’s okay,” she murmurs, and you feel her slide into the chair beside you. How long has it been since one of you cried in front of the other, unprompted? You can’t remember.

Maybe that’s what has you standing from your seat, pulling Elain with you as you cry into her. She’s stiff for a moment, then her arms slide over your shoulders, your own wrapping around her back, allowing the tears to pour. The world naturally leaning toward chaos.

After what feel like forever, you step away, drying your eyes once more.

“How are you feeling?” She asks gently, hand on your shoulder, thumb rubbing soothingly. “Better,” you sniff, managing to keep your eyes dry. They’re going to puff up badly, though. You snivel again, pushing the loose hairs from your face, wet with tears. “Thank you for the orrery,” you manage, softly. “Really. It’s so… I can’t even begin to explain how incredible it is. How great a gift it is. Thank you.” You hope you can at least begin to have her understand how much you love it through the sincerity in your voice. So she can hear it, even if you can’t explain it.

She smiles faintly. “I’m happy you’re happy.” It’s so Elain you nearly start crying again. “Nuan made it—she’s very skilled in her work.”

Nuan, who’d created Lucien’s eye. She must have…

Her eyes flick away for a moment, as if reading the question in your gaze, but return. “He and I… Things aren’t as tense as they once were. We’re… We’re doing better.” You stare at her, lips parted.

So she’s no longer after Azriel.

A wave of horror crashes over you as you comprehend the thought. Repeat it in your brain. Subconsciously, she’d been your saboteur. You’d seen her as competition, convinced you had to be better to keep his attention. How infatuated you’d become.

Two years you’d wanted him. Two years of late night thoughts, secret wishes, and strict obedience to him. Two years of living for someone else.

Such an idiot.

You’d been so happy to give as much as you could. To be as compliant and accommodating as possible. And he had fully taken advantage of that.

How much more is there for you to realise about him?

How much further does this have to go?

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

CBMTHY Taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @sakurafrost3-blog @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay @i-am-infinite @wannabewolf @thegirlintheshadows101 @kennedy-brooke

#CBMTHY #CBMTHY Part 3 #Azriel #azriel shadowsinger #Azriel angst #angst #acotar #multi-part fic #Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You

[gu1lty-as-sin]

˚₊‧꒰ა i was standing in the dark and i’m hoping that you saw me ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

hii!! ☆ juno ☆ they/she ☆ minor ☆ bisexual ☆ cancer sun, libra moon, sag rising ☆ intp-t ☆ aus ☆ either a celestial god or a pebble ☆ anxious mess ☆ i change my theme way too much ☆ sparkling water > regular water ☆ in love with piercings and wants all of them ☆ professional procrastinator ☆ a humanities/arts/music girl in a science/maths world ☆ wouldnt survive a day without spotify ☆ free palestine!!

url change!! previously astraeasparrow, just changing it to gu1lty-as-sin until my ttpd obsession passes <3

͙͘͡★ i love - literature, the arts, queer culture, astronomy + astrology, witchcraft, feminism (no terfs allowed!!!!), fruit flavoured drinks, flared pants, converse, dark red, nail polish, eyeliner, burgundy lipgloss, tank tops, tote bags, brie (always dreaming of cheese), pinterest, spotify, my headphones, the ocean, my grandparents house, spring+winter, very specific shades of pink and green, black <3, fiddling around on the guitar, fantasising about being a famous musician, finding new music, snow, picking silly little outfits, drawing, writing, going to concerts

͙͘͡★ books - osemanverse, the hunger games, books by rhiannon wilde, tim te maro's subterranean heartsick blues, all the best liars, books by octavia butler (specifically parable of the sower and parable of the talents), the last true poets of the sea, acotar, the weight of the stars, the seven husbands of evelyn hugo, the picture of dorian grey, house of hollow, howls moving castle, harry potter (mainly marauders, FUCK JKR), i kissed shara wheeler, red white and royal blue, song of achilles, wings of fire, the secret history

͙͘͡★ movies + shows - dont look up, little women (2019), scream (i like most of them but 1996 is my fav by far), ladybird, barbie (2023), some of the mcu (thor and guardians of the galaxy <33), spiderverse (itsv is my love), gilmore girls, stranger things, loki, heartstopper, arcane, scott pilgrim takes off + scott pilgrim vs the world, mean girls (i love both hehe), dr who, percy jackson (the show, i um havent read the books), gossip girls, do revenge, my little pony (ignore that i’ve never actually watched it BUT IN THEORY-)

͙͘͡★ music - boygenius + solos, taylor swift, glaive, brakence, paramore, ricky jamaraz, melanie martinez, lana del rey, ashnikko, girl in red, billie eilish, doja cat, big thief, adrienne lenker, ethel cain, mitski, remi wolf, cigarettes after sex, ericdoa, tv girl, clairo, the neighbourhood, bon iver, deftones, maneskin, courtney barnett, poppy, the smiths, american football, susannah joffe, renee rapp, mcr, the front bottoms, pierce the veil, flyleaf, gracie abrams, feeble little horse, esha tewari

͙͘͡★ albums - the record, 1989 tv, around the fur, riot, three cheers for sweet revenge, all we know is falling, hypochondriac, girl with fish, doa, things with wings, punk2, songs, masterpiece, guts, lust for life, dykttatuob, punisher, stranger in the alps, i care so much that i dont care at all, collide with the sky, manic, badlands, folklore, trafoamp, k-12, crybaby, portals, this is why, home video

͙͘͡★ talk to me - asks and dms are open for chatting/venting/whatever, i might take a while to respond ☆i rarely follow people without an intro post/descriptive bio (with name, age group and pronouns especially) ☆ discord is astraeasparrow (i dont check it often and dont know how it works very well) ☆ i dont currently have any trigger warnings tagged but just send me an ask/dm if you want me to tag something specific!! ☆ dni: people who are: rude, racist, homophobic, transphobic, zionist, terfs, sexist, ableist, antisemitic

͙͘͡★ tags:

#juno.txt -> ramblings, original posts

#asks -> asks ive answered

#ask bait -> send me asks!

#tag games -> tag games ive participated in

#beautiful mutuals -> interactions with my beautiful mutuals!

#spotify -> my music obsession

(im working on a better taglist with my moots tags)

͙͘͡★ socials: pinterest ☆ spotify ☆ carrd

͙͘͡★ sideblogs: @likeasugarcubeinateacup (notes app poetry) -- @slowrotburiedinthepark (web weaving and random art) -- @stabbingstarsthroughmyback (writing) (im not that active on them though)

͙͘͡★ notes/updates:

☆ previously astraeasparrow

☆ last updated: april 12th 2024

☆ dividers by @benkeibear

thats all!! stay hydrated and have a wonderful day/night everyone <3

#juno.txt #asks #beautiful mutuals #them tag <33 #tag game #ask bait #tag games #spotify #intro post #<- you can check out my crusty old intro post there #juno's 270 celebration

[outerrimhours]

Kinktober Day 3

Title: Trigger Shot

Pairing - Crosshair X Female!Reader

Prompt - Armor kink

Word Count - 857

Warnings - NSFW 18+ (18+ minors DNI), dirty talk, squirting, fingering, I’m too sick to write anything good, but wanted to get content out anyway rip

Song - Pacify Her by Melanie Martinez 

“Relax”, Crosshair teased, tone playful in the heat of battle, “I’ll handle this.”

You felt the edge of the rifle sit steady against your shoulder, the Sniper too close for comfort,  hitting a target too far for your own eyes to see. Rocks tumbled, smoke forming as they fell on to the droids below. 

“That was reckless and you know it!” You growled. 

Crosshair was used to your fiery attitude, for a Jedi you had a temper; a fire he loved to stroke. 

“We would have been outnumbered, I did us a favor”, He responded cooly, edging your already burning frustration. 

“That village has been through enough, Crosshair, they didn’t need more destruction.”

Crosshair towered over you, and even though his helmet covered his features you knew he was staring you down, rifle propped against his hip in annoyance.  You hated working with the clone, his defiance against your orders had you praying for the council to remove you. The war dragged on, leaving you feeling jaded, resentful, bitter. You worried the council would notice. Who were you to call yourself a jedi? 

You expected a sarcastic remark from the clone, yet he stayed silent, turning back to walk in the opposite direction. 

“Where are you going”, you questioned in disbelief. 

“Are you coming or what?” 

You huffed in annoyance, reluctantly following the Sniper up a ridge, and onto a cliff’s edge. 

“Lay down”, he ordered.

The gesture was out of character for him, he didn’t usually care. Especially about anyone’s feelings, yet something in him made him feel almost sorry for you. War wasn’t easy on anyone, it took a toll on all of his brothers, but he hated the way you had become so irascible.

You planted your body against the dirt, pebbles pressing to your robes, the suns beating down against your skin. You expected him to hand you his scope, yet, you found the clone pressing himself against your back. His helmet next to your face, armored chest pressed to your back, one leg between your hips. Entirely too close for comfort. You found your breath caught in your throat. 

Crosshair placed the rifle underneath you, enough for your eyes to meet the scope, a gloved hand guiding yours to the barrel. 

“What are you doing”? You whispered, almost in disbelief. 

“Easing your worries”, he responded, voice even more sultry through the modulator in his helmet. 

You hated the way your heart sped up. Through the force you could feel his emotional conflict, looking through the scope to distract yourself. 

The village was more than fine. They were safe and not only had he saved the both of you from being outnumbered, but he ensured the village wouldn’t reap the consequences of the droid army. 

-

You didn’t remember how you ended up in his  empty barracks that night. Stumbling over miscellaneous items as he kissed you. You tried blaming it on just needing some type of relief, but that would have made you a fool. You hated to admit admiring him. Feeling so flustered when he towered over you in his armor, looking down at you with his helmet. He was so cocky, infuriating -

Crosshair pushed you against the bed, hovering over you with an insatiable lust. 

“Tell me no and this stops”, He said, searching your eyes for any hestiance. 

Your only response pulling him into a deeper kiss, fingers running through soft silver hair, allowing a groan to escape through his lips. 

Suddenly he was fully on his knees, your heart racing as you propped yourself up on your elbows, legs hanging off the edge. 

Crosshair was impatient, still fully adorned in armor as he tugged the waistband of your pants down until they reached your ankles. You were so overwhelmed being so exposed to the soldier, face flushed at the idea of him between your legs. He gently planted kisses to your ankles, long, slender fingers running up your legs and to your panties to pull them down as well. Exposing how soaked you were, on display for him. 

That fiery attitude of yours extinguished to a compliant mess as Crosshair dragged his finger through your slick folds, eliciting an almost pornographic moan from your lips. He smirked in response, knowing exactly how skilled his fingers really were. 

You cried out as he inserted a finger, curving until he found the sweetest spot, causing your back to arch in his direction. 

“There she is”, Crosshair teased, slowly circling your clit with his thumb, working your cunt slowly before adding in a second finger.

“Crosshair”, you whined, warm electricity running through your veins, pussy clenching and soaked around his digits. 

At the sight of you falling apart on his fingers, he curved at an angle you had never felt before, rubbing your clit until you were crying out.

“Cum for me, I want you to soak my armor so I can keep you with me always”. He said.

That’s all it took for pleasure to flood your body, a white hot orgasm hitting its peak and suddenly, you found yourself squirting and soaking the sniper’s black and red armor. 

Taglist: @moonstrider9904 @samspenandsword @acatalystrising

#kinktober 2022 #kinktober day three #star wars kinktober #the bad batch #bad batch crosshair #crosshair smut #Spotify

[auroracalisto]

down for the ride

eddie munson x gn!reader, 801 words tw: mention of drinking/alcohol, drugs, anxiety a/n: i started this literally months ago. when the last season came out. what. maybe i need serious psychological help. jk. maybe.

The party made you uneasy.

Not the music, not the booze, not the drugs. Hell, you hardly touched anything despite the amount spread all over the house.

It was the people that made you uneasy.

Lots of skin and shouting came from every direction as they attempted to have a decent conversation over the booming music—uncomfortably touchy people as you pushed past them.

You just weren’t cut out for this. Parties weren't your thing. You told Melanie multiple times! But no. No, she didn't listen.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your head was fuzzy as you attempted to find your friends.

Had they ditched you?

Maybe. They might have. But could you blame them?This party had been the buzz of the school for months. End of the year, soon-to-be graduates lining up and hoping to have as much fun as possible before the workforce or college life took them by a chokehold.

You shouldn’t have come. You should have told Melanie you couldn’t come—that you had something to do, that you needed to get things finished before graduation. But the look on her face had melted your worried heart. And now, you could have smacked her.

You found the pool far sooner than you had anticipated. People were out here, spread about, but not like it had been inside.

The weight of almost everything lifted off your shoulders… for now.

You sat on one of the sun chairs, burying your face in your hands as you tried to catch your breath.

Out here, you felt like you could breathe.

Out here, you felt as if nothing could bother you; as if you were all alone to the world—

"Y/n?"

You froze, slowly turning to see the man who said your name—Eddie Munson.

What was he doing here? Why was he here, seeing you this way?

The party.

Right.

"You okay?" he asked, raising his hands in mock defense as he took a step closer. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

You sucked in a deep breath, looking down at your hands.

"I want to go home," you said.

His eyes softened. He glanced over at the house, knowing he had to supply. But he already had his money, and these kids wouldn't realize they were out for some time.

"You need a ride?"

Eddie stood there, as awkward as ever, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No! No, I’m fine.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “You sure? I was just about to head out, and I know you live not too far from me, so…” He kicked a pebble on the concrete, sending it straight into the pool. He watched the little rock begin to sink before he spoke again. “It wouldn’t be a problem.”

You sniffled softly, tilting your head back as you debated—you could go with him, get home and get into bed. Or, you could stay here and wait for your drunk friends to realize that you’re sober and ready to go. The first choice sounded better. Plus, if she is concerned, she could call in the morning.

You sighed, placing your hands on your knees as you pushed yourself to your feet.

“You really don’t mind?”

“Not at all, Y/n,” he said. He often called you by your last name, or some silly nickname, but tonight, he didn’t think it was right.

He walked over to you and swung an arm around your shoulders, grinning.

“Let’s blow this popsicle stand,” he said, ring-clad finger poking your cheek.

You rolled your eyes, unable to keep your smile from showing.

“There they are! We love to see it,” he teased, keeping you close and guiding you through the drunk and high teenagers.

One thing is for certain—he’s almost glad you wanted to leave so early. After a while, these parties are exactly the same; boring.

He helped you to his van, opening the door for you like the dramatic gentleman he was. But instead of getting in immediately like you should have, you reached forward and pulled the lanky man into a hug. You rested your face on his jean jacket.

Hell, you didn’t even know if he liked hugs. But right now, you didn’t care. Right now, you knew he was helping you and the little crush you most definitely did not have on him was screaming at you to thank him somehow. Hugs seemed like a safe option.

A dark blush rose to his cheeks as he hesitantly hugged you back. He cleared his throat, eyes looking anywhere but you.

“Yeah, yeah. Get in the van,” he said, gently tapping your back but not forcing you away.

You looked up at him, awkwardly rubbing your cheek with the palm of your hand as you pulled away. You were grateful.

“Thank you, Eddie.”

“Don’t mention it, babe.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #gn!reader #fem!reader #male!reader #no gender-defining language #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #st s4 #st x reader #stranger things x reader #reader insert #x reader #edward munson #eddie stranger things #eddie st4 #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader

[katkusuo]

ᴹᴰᴺᴵ ᵒʳ ⁱⁿˢᵗᵃⁿᵗˡʸ ᵇˡᵒᶜᵏᵉᵈ

ᵀʳⁱᵍᵍᵉʳ ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵛⁱᵒˡᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵗʳⁱᵍᵍᵉʳˢ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃˢ ᶠⁱᵍʰᵗⁱⁿᵍ ˢʷᵉᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉᵍᵘˡᵃʳ ᵇᵘˡˡˢʰⁱᵗ and abusive father having reader

જ⁀➴𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃𝐘

̲W̲̲h̲̲e̲̲n̲ ̲I̲'̲m̲ ̲s̲̲i̲̲t̲̲t̲̲i̲̲n̲̲g̲ a̲̲l̲̲l̲ a̲̲l̲̲o̲̲n̲̲e̲, ̲y̲̲o̲̲u̲'̲r̲̲e̲ ̲r̲̲i̲̲g̲̲h̲̲t̲ ̲i̲̲n̲ ̲f̲̲r̲̲o̲̲n̲̲t̲ ̲o̲̲f̲ ̲m̲̲e̲..♡

Fem!Reader x Bitter soft izana pairing

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦

You and izanas relationship was nothing short of empty it was getting worse by the day he didn't abuse you or anything extreme but it's a thing you are scared of that happening you've had ex's soon ex's and family members opon family members who was like that and the biggest fear you have in you is your boyfriend turning into that biggest fear he was already a gangster and a leader of tenjiku and was quite inplusive you've always been silently worried around him and his temper but he has his cute moments recently thing have been difficult for you and you was just finishing a mental breakdown after a rough day at a hangout where they was making you feel left and even saw your abusive dad within the hang out and he even tried to approach you life was very unfair to you and you knew it and just accepted that fate years ago so when you heard the front door unlocking you picked to stay in the bathroom locked up in there as you heard the loud footsteps through the thin walled apartment as he's heard calling for you "mahal where are you mahal!?" After met with silence he raised a eyebrow and just let it be he isn't the kind to ask twice he probably thought you had went for a nap or something similar but later when he had gotton up from the sofa after practicing his acoustic guitarand went towards bathroom needing to use it and when he grabbed the handle he was greeted by the door not opening which hit him like a pebble he started knocking while hearing whimpering as he yelled "open the fucking door" he yelled and yelled in worry and in intensity and after 7 minutes of brutal sobbing on opposite sides of the door the lock clicked and bursted in and muttered while seeming careless about the situation and is as of he's just tolerating you but in reality he's silently worried or at. Least just a little even if it's hinted with a mix of annoyance "what the fuck happened tell me ok? Do I need to get bloody or what just tell me me something speak to me" he muttered in a mix of anger and confusion not sure how he should feel at his girlfriend crying like that all he knows is that it's bad as you cry for another 4 or so minutes before crying everything all way from the mistreatment your friends gave you and the way your abusive father had openly walked up to you within that hangout and tried to yell at you while drunk and how he had hit you as you explained your tears you thought he'd be calm but oh boy you was fucking wrong as he'd shiver at the idea of such a disgusting man touching his woman it made him shiver in rage and clutch you back harder it nearly hurt but not intentionally as he muttered "I'll fucking kill them at that bastard.." He muttered letting go of you before standing there shivering holding back hitting the closest thing as he gives a cheek kiss and rubs your back a singular time before heading off Inplusivly and last time you see him was a few hours later he was a mess but had a proud smile on his face blood all down him as he had walked into the bedroom to get dressed and check on you...

̷T̷̷A̷̷G̷ ̷L̷̷I̷̷S̷̷T̷!! ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

@i-literally-cant-with-this @arlerts-angel @darkstarlight82 @kazutora-kurokawa

#izana kurokawa #izana x reader #tokyo revengers izana #fem reader #reader x character #Spotify

[eliias-bouchard]

melanie king for ask game, 4, 7, 24?

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

ooh interesting. uhh. i honestly think she'd kick ass in the last dragon chronicles (book). she deserves a dragon.

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

i very rarely venture into the wilds of the tma tag so i unfortunately cant really say :(

24. What other character from another fandom of yours that reminds you of them?

feldspar, from outer wilds. i think if melanie were plonked into outer wilds she'd get along great (ish) with feldspar.

also five pebbles. she and pebbles are in a really similar situation (trapped, very angry, made choices that have hurt people around them) and i think theyd either hate each other or have a complicated relationship

(ask game here!)

#answered asks #ask games

[twsted-princess]

A lover out of this world for any Melanie ship we have, who you're in the mood for :)

I hate you, truly I do.

Achilles grumbled to himself, swiping away at the tall bush as he heard his 'companion' speak up. "Gotta say it's pretty kind of ya to let me tag along." He rolled his eyes and didn't pay them any mind. Emmett tugged at his shirt with the hot sun bellowing down, following Achilles as he cut through the grass. This was beyond idiotic. Let Emmett join him, they can split the reward! It's just some giant snake, what harm could it do? Achilles knew that giant lizard was actually a basilisk and he wasn't interested in this idiot making his hunt any much harder. Slicing away at a branch he thought to himself with the earth crunching beneath him. Maybe he should let Emmett go first so the creature could target him first and while they're eating his corpse he could get the drop on them. That wasn't a terrible idea but his thoughts were ruined again. "So you know where we're going right?" Achilles sighed. "Yes I know where we are. I've explored this forest a thousand times." Emmett looked up into the trees as colorful birds sang sweet songs. "I don't know but I think we're lost." The hunter looked back to his cowboy nuisance now mad. "We're not lost." The other man shrugged his shoulders as he looked around. "You could be right but don'tcha get the feeling we're not supposed to be here." Achilles felt the urge come over to just strangle him until he's purple and then leave but he turned back to slice through another branch barring their way. "We're fine. Just keep walking." Emmett let out a sigh and the two trudged along.

The birds continued their songs, flying through the trees with their feathers in soft shades. A stream babbled through with its water clear enough to see the smooth pebbles and fishes with their shimmery scales swim around. That........isn't normal in this part of the woods. Achilles then stopped, kneeling down to scoop some into his hand, the water dripped down as he took a sip. It was....nice. Refreshing and crisp, he could feel his energy come back in full force. Likely the best water he's tasted. Emmett then noticed the trees. Some were flowering with white to a peachy pink blossoms, hanging along with them were fruits but not ones he knew of. They looked like strawberries but they were much bigger and the colors ranged from a ruby red, rose pink and champagne. He took one off, causing a few petals to fall onto him as he took a bite. It was sweet like honey and melted into his mouth, some of the juice fell down his fingers. "Ok now do you believe me?" Achilles rose wiping his hand on his pants. "Let's keep moving." He didn't need to walk that far when they both hear it. Laughter like a bell chime. Actually it was a plethora of giggles. Achilles's hand rested on his hip, where his hunting knife rested. "Stay low. Don't make a sound." he whispered as Emmett felt his gun in its holster, just in case. They moved slowly, crouched towards a high bushel of flowers where the giggling came from. Creeping along they carefully moved the blossoms before they got a glimpse of.......her. A maiden, fair and sweet, dressed in pink and gold. Her hair pooled the flowers as she sat among a gaggle of butterflies. Or what they think were butterflies. She smiles gently, giggling as if she was told a joke as they fluttered around. She was.......pretty. Too pretty. Enough for it to almost hurt their eyes. "So........what do we do now?"

#my work #twst oc's #twisted wonderland

[lycanlovingvampyre]

MAG 192 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: mowing the lawn.

MARTIN: "Wait, seriously? I thought you had this whole ‘invisibility cloak’ thing going on?" GEORGIE: "Sure, but I’m not exactly keen to test it against the eyeball tower guardians. I don’t know the limits of our ‘invisibility’, and it seems pretty dumb to saunter up and hope it works on them." That's fair. Considering she just threw a pebble at them and they reacted. I'm sure that pebble stone also doesn't feel fear, which means they still very much react to other stimuli like sound, touch maybe etc.

JON: "And tell Melanie… Tell her I’m sorry." GEORGIE: "That’s… not what she wants to hear from you." JON: "Well, then… what does she want?" GEORGIE: "I don’t know. But… it’s not going to be another apology." Uhhh, I'm also at a loss here, what would be the appropriate thing to say? Way I see it, they don't really have anything left to say to each other...

GEORGIE: "Anything you’ve got to say to me, that can wait too." So, and in case he doesn't come back? I just don't understand these two girls anymore...

MARTIN: [Wearily] "Ah, sure. Lead on, Macduff." JON: "It’s, uh, “Lay on –”" MARTIN: [Frustrated] "Sh– I know, I know! I know. Go. Just go." Hahaha, theater kid...

JON: "I insist." [ROSIE SIGHS] ROSIE: [Softly] "Your funeral…" And yours, Rosie. Big Boss won't come out an yell at Jon, he'll yell at Rosie (as far as he is able to right now... Or, if this was pre-Change). That's the thing about being front desk. You're just the person everybody gets to yell at. God I hated that shit...

ROSIE: "Yes I – Yes, I-I understand, I jus– I – Sorry to interrupt." See? What did I say...

Nosy Rosie... Of course she's Eye-aligned...

Oh god, I hate job interviews. I hate being put on the spot, hate stupid questions, or the questions that are none of their business...

"'So why do you want this job, Ms. Zampano?' ‘Because I need money to live, you pompous ass,’ she didn’t answer." Yeah, stupid questions like this! Oh, because sitting at a desk doing paper crap while being on display to get yelled at by everyone is my goal in life! Sure, idiots...

"They weren’t actually Cockney, she knew that for certain. They might as well have been asking to take that table up the ‘apples and pears’." Oh, that one of these cockney slang things, like dog and bone? Do people actually say things like that? I actually do not have any British friends, I don't know which phrases are actually used in the UK and what isn't... Like raining cats and dogs? Do British McDonald’s say "chips" instead of "french fries"? The name we call fries in Austria has actually changed since I was a child. We used to call them Pommes Frites ("Pomm Free-ts", I guess it's French? I'm a total dummy when it comes to French, but “french” fries...), but now everyone says "Pommes", so we do now actually say the silent "es". ... Okay, I now googled UK McDonald's and it says fries? xDD 

"‘Jonathan Sims’, the name read. She knew him. Well, knew of him, the things they said about him in the break room, the sort of things that passed across Mr. Bouchard’s desk about him." [...] "Sims was different. He was insecure, aggressive, desperate to be taken seriously. Of course, having seen his file, Rosie kind of understood. Why on earth Mr. Bouchard had given him the job at all was a mystery to her, but it didn’t make it any easier to talk to him." That is so Eye of the Eye (does that make sense? xD). To feed Jon what people thought about him...

"She still smiles, though. Just in case." God, that gets me...

It is really cool to see all these events through the eyes (heh) of someone else, someone in the periphery.

"Behind his desk, without missing a beat of his conversation, Elias caught her eye, and suddenly she was a child again, creeping towards the rotten board in her parents’ attic, burning to know what lurked behind it, [FLOORBOARD CREAKS WARNINGLY] unsuspecting of the squirming nest of half-dead insect bodies she was about to reveal. [INSECTILE AND SQUIRMING NOISES] Then she was back in the office. Mr. Bouchard was still smiling." Hehehe, Elias doing his memory insertion thing...

"What if he got angry? She couldn’t afford to lose this job. She couldn’t." I am, fortunately, in a very privileged position of being almost unable to be fired, but I'm the same... Afraid the boss will get angry. She can't fire me, but she can make work a living nightmare for me. And she knows it. And she knows that I know.

"but… what if it made Mr. Bouchard angry? Why did the thought of that terrify her so?" Yeah that. Rosie's statement got me a lot more than that of MAG 188, which did sound very much like a social anxiety statement.

"She was working for evil. Not someone misguided, not selfish, but truly evil. And she knew she was going to sit there and ignore that fact. She knew the sort of information he had on everyone, and now she knew what he was capable of, what he might do if he thought Rosie might be a threat." Capitalism is the enemy!!!11

"People have come to see Elias. No. Not people. Not anymore." Ouch... (Thinking of Jon and Martin here because she wondered about helping them.)

"Where else could she have gone? Mr. Lukas was dead. Mr. Bouchard was missing. So many friends and colleagues dead. The violence, the gunshots. The old man and his… daughter? Their murderous joy. She couldn’t stop thinking about their faces. How they had looked right past her as they ran through the building." Rosie should get a good therapist when all this is over... And uh... this of course requires a therapist, who can do their job... Like post Change doesn't sound like fun for anyone...

MARTIN: "Oi! Dickhead! Come down here so we can kick your arse!" I'm so proud of you, Martin! xD

MARTIN: "Yeah I got that. What’s wrong with him?" JON: "Nothing. Nothing’s wrong with him. He’s the pupil of The Eye." MARTIN: "Meaning?" JON: "He won." Hmm. I thought it was clear that he won as soon as he got his Eyepocalype? xD What they think he’s doing? Sitting in a corner all sad while listening to Caramelldansen?

@a-mag-a-day

#a-mag-a-day #mag 192 #tma #tma spoilers

[styleofdiamandis]

PHOTOSHOOT: MARINA FOR THE GUARDIAN

In a stunning photoshoot captured by the talented Ben Quinton for The Guardian, Marina graced the lens with her timeless beauty and unique style. The Welsh-Greek beauty revealed that her inspiration for this particular shoot came from a cherished source close to her heart—photographs of her own mother from the 1970s.

Styling by Melanie Wilkinson with assistance of Hannah Davidson, makeup by Sharon Ive and hair by Benjamin James Moth.

Marina effortlessly channeled the vintage allure of that era as she posed in a pair of dark navy lyocell and viscose dungarees, courtesy of Urban Outfitter's in-house label Cooperative. The choice of attire showcased her knack for blending retro aesthetics with contemporary fashion, a trademark characteristic that has endeared her to fans worldwide.

Beneath the dungarees, M added a touch of playful sophistication to her look. She layered a charming blue & white micro stripe blouse with a frill hem and contrasting red & white striped collar and cuffs, a creation from the renowned fashion house Red Valentino‘s nautical-inspired Spring/Summer 2015 collection.

Quinton's lens captured Marina's spirit in a series of evocative shots, evoking a sense of nostalgia while highlighting her unique personality and the journey she's taken through her music and style. As she gracefully moved through the shoot, Marina's connection to the past and the present was palpable, making this photoshoot a true testament to her enduring creativity and timeless elegance.

Marina added a touch of elegance and intrigue through carefully chosen accessories. Among them, she adorned herself with a clear red resin teardrop pendants necklace from Pebble London, similar to the piece pictured.

Marina completed her striking look with a pair of the Bally Spring/Summer 2015 Wystan light cuoio leather and wood wedge sandals. These elegant and now-sold-out shoes ($805.00) added a touch of sophistication to her ensemble, perfectly complementing her eclectic style.

#March 2015 #Urban Outfitters #Cooperative #Jumpsuits #Valentino #Tops #Pebble London #Jewelry #Bally #Sandals

[readitreviewit]

Are you ready to rock? The "You Rock Group" is here to roll in the heartwarming and hilarious children's book "Rock Moves," written by Michael Dean Clark and illustrated by Melanie Stephens. This modern-day classic follows 14 lovable rocks (and one wise little ladybug) on a journey that teaches us the power of perseverance and true friendship. Targeted towards children ages 3-11, this is the first book in a series that kids are sure to cherish and learn from through empowering, motivating and fun-to-read stories. The story starts with the rocks getting together to play and roll around their favorite hill, only to find that one of their friends, Ricky, can't roll with them. Unlike all of the other rocks, who are all round, Ricky can't roll because he's flat on one side. Determined not to leave their friend behind, the rocks set out to help Ricky roll - one way or another. Through colorful and beautifully illustrated pages, we go on a journey with the rocks as they attempt to turn Ricky into a rolling rock. The story is written in verse, which adds to the engaging and fun nature of the book. From zippy little pebbles to big strong boulders, each rock has its own unique personality that children are sure to love. But the story is not just about having fun and rolling around. It teaches children an important lesson on not leaving anyone behind and working together as a team to achieve a common goal. This is something that parents and teachers alike will appreciate. The book highlights the power of true friendship and the spirit of The Giving Tree combined with the rhyme and rhythm of Dr. Seuss. It's a heartwarming and inspiring story that children will love and learn from. It's not just the story itself that's lovable, the illustrations are just as charming. Each rock is vividly portrayed with bright colors and expressive faces. The illustrations bring the characters to life and make them seem like they're jumping off the page. "Rock Moves" is a book that parents won't mind reading to their children over and over again. The story is engaging and perfect for children who are just starting to read. It's easy to understand and follows a simple and relatable plot. Overall, "Rock Moves" is a must-read for children of all ages. It's a fun and inspiring tale that's perfect for bedtime reading or any time of the day. The lovable characters, engaging story, and beautiful illustrations make it the perfect addition to any child's library. So hop on and join the "You Rock Group" on their adventure to help Ricky roll. Don't miss out on the inspiring and life-changing story in this book! Get your own copy now and experience the power of its message firsthand. Or, if you're always on-the-go, try a 30-day free trial of Audible and listen to it anytime, anywhere. Start your journey towards personal growth and fulfillment today! Price: [price_with_discount] (as of [price_update_date] - Details)

[newoncenicetwice]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Antonio Melani Barrin Moccasins Black Leather.

[criphd]

going thru my notes & quotes bc im going to make some lit theory / marxism index cards & some of these quotes/ideas & articulations are staggeringly beautiful to me tbh. i literally cried at at least two of them....

"a dirty little pebble. a clot" !!!!!!!!

[quoted in order: (1) the fury archives by juno jill richards (originally claude cahun) / (2 -4) the passion projects by melanie micir / (5) wayward lives, beautiful experiments by saidiya hartman]

#personal #lit crit #quotes #nerd alert obviously !!!! #recording #index cards

[irisheyesdesigns]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Antonio Melani sz 7 black leather wedge heel tall boots.

[tatelauritzen62]

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[therunwayarchive]

Top Shows, New York Spring 2020 (Part 3)

Parsons MFA

Prabal Gurung

Pyer Moss

Sally LaPointe

Section 8

Tadashi Shoji

Taoray Taoray

Tom Ford

#Parsons MFA #Joanna Krneta #Prabal Gurung #Lina Zhang #Pyer Moss #Doja Cat #Sally LaPointe #Ange Marie Moutambou #section 8 #Melanie Pebbles #Tadashi Shoji #Katerina Vitova #Taoray Taoray #Willem Terhune #tom ford #Ajok Madel #favorites #models #fashion #runway #Spring 2020 #new york fashion week #NYFW SS2020

[donavonsmallwood]

#melanie pebbles