#ianthe is trying her hardest

[dabblingreturns]

The thing about Ianthe, when it comes right down to it, is that her choices are are very justifiable in a "logical choice with the knowledge at hand" kind of way

So her role as a villian is debatable....but her enjoyment at acting like a villian is undeniable.

#the locked tomb #ianthe is trying her hardest #ianthe naberius #ianthe tridentarius #ianthe the first #ianthe #saint of awe

[harrowharks-iliac-crest]

As Yet Unsent

I’ve recovered from my initial relapse after gut alteration. My weight has levelled out. My captors’ procedures were conceptually primitive but sophisticated in execution. They have still failed to regrow my stomach or bowel, as they lack the basic techniques required to do so, but have outsourced their functions to apparatus outside my body for the interim.

As always, we start off the read with a healthy dose of Hey what the fuck????

The operation went ahead. Severe reflux required another landing in order to fix it. I was sedated for the majority of the time. Hect provided competent guidance. The ambient thanergy was thin. The corpse has still failed to rot. The princess says they are leaving it outside in significantly fluctuating temperatures, under observation, and it still fails to rot.

I have so many questions.

Why are they doing this to Judith??

And what corpse?

It's been a little while now since I finished Gideon the Ninth, so let me refer back to what the Emperor told Harrow in the epilogue -

“Who else beside me is alive, Lord?” “Ianthe Tridentarius,” said the Emperor, “minus one arm.” “The Sixth House cavalier was only injured when I left her,” said Harrowhark. “Where is she?” “We haven’t recovered any trace of her, or her body,” said the Emperor. “Nor that of Captain Deuteros of Trentham, nor of the Crown Princess of Ida.” “What?” “All the Houses will have questions tonight,” he said. “I can hardly blame them. I’m sorry, Harrow, we couldn’t recover your cavalier either.” Her brain listed sharply. “Gideon’s gone?” “Everyone else is accounted for,” he said.

Camilla, Judith and Coronabeth are alive, so if this is referring to any corpse taken from Canaan House, it's actually most likely to be Gideon Nav. What are they doing to my girl??? Studying how fast her body decays on an unfamiliar planet with "thin" thanergy??

Security anklet only, wired to a severe but not fatal electrical shock. Since my previous report they used it on her once, which hospitalised her for a week. Camilla Hect is in the process of being converted to their cause.

Oh yikes once more. Blood of Eden sure has some colourful torture/persuasion tactics. Camilla seemed pretty sold when they met Harrow, so this is presumably before then.

There is no way of softening this. Coronabeth Tridentarius has already been radicalised.

As I expected.

Are we going to get more info on what went down at Canaan House after Gideon died, but before Harrow and Ianthe were recovered by the Emperor?

To have Coronabeth Tridentarius near me in my suffering only hardened my heart. All the while she would tell me the things they had told her, as though she wanted me to argue her down. At first I tried. Then I realised she was just using me to sharpen her own reasoning.

Coronabeth, while being called stupid by Ianthe, is actually anything but. I mean, they're twins, so how could she be? Ianthe might be ahead of her, but that only means that comparing her to Corona is unfair. This girl is still cunning.

Hect maintains I am incorrect. Hect maintains that Coronabeth’s intervention kept us all alive, and that the princess deliberately put herself in harm’s way. What am I to believe? That the princess was and remains an innocent victim, or that the princess maintained the pose of innocence and has become a victim anyway? She sincerely believes that the Houses have done wrong, and worse, that they are being led incorrectly. The tips of her ears go pink when she is genuinely impassioned.

I mean, I feel like the Blood of Eden do have a point here, and it's not particularly hard to convince someone like Coronabeth of that. Judith is much more indoctrinated from the Houses' side, and Coronabeth is probably capable of holding the duality - sympathetic to the rebels' cause, and also trying her hardest to keep Judith and Camilla alive - the closest thing she has to friends in this situation.

The corpse is still as it ever was. I asked Hect if the scavengers had got at it. She said that animals refused to touch it even when encouraged.

Curious. Curious indeed. If this is really Gideon, then this is more points for her being, technically and biologically speaking, a fucking weirdo.

Could it be that Eden are using her body to keep tabs on Harrow?

I never experienced the physical vitiation that some necromancers suffer. The Second House’s signature thalergy transferral does not burn the necromancer’s tissue so viciously, especially in necromancers who enjoy more competency than genius. I could run a kilometre in ten minutes, which was among the fastest for my adept group in the junior reserves. Marta could run it in five.

A kilometre in ten minutes is still not particularly good. I can walk a kilometre in ten minutes. Judith isn't as frail as some necromancers, but still isn't particularly fit either.

Well, she was not that frail for a necromancer, before Eden decided, for some reason, to tear out and replace a large chunk of her digestive system. Which still begs the question of Hey what the fuck??

The princess sourced me paper, [...] The princess and Hect and I all agree we hate the texture.

An autistic mood. What's flimsy made out of, exactly? Non-organic materials of some sort?

She said, Do you have designs on Camilla? I said that romance was the furthest thing from my mind and should be the furthest thing from hers. I said that in such a febrile atmosphere it was for the best if we did not make any connections that Blood of Eden could exploit. The princess asked me if at any point blood had ever flowed in my veins or if it had always been graphite shavings. We had an argument.

A lot of arguments happening here between Coronabeth and Judith. Kinda yuri tbh. (Judith would hate me for saying so...)

I said it needed to be bathed in thanergy-enriched blood by at least three adepts and that the carvings needed to be kept clear of crusts or clots. I said one necromancer alone would not be able to use it as an anchor and that it needed to be energised on a thanergenic planet, so it would never be of any use to them. [...] Blood of Eden have a stele-capable ship. My only hope is that I am the only necromancer they have in their possession. I keep telling myself this has to be the case.

So a stele is a necromancy-powered engine of sorts, but it needs several necromancers to work (at least this one does). Interesting.

I think Judith is probably right that she's the only necromancer they have. If they were successful in keeping necromancer prisoners, if they'd managed to convert any or torture them into being useful, they would know more about necromantic ability and aptitude.

I said to Hect, I hadn’t actually read them as closely as I’d made out to the lieutenant, in that initial conversation. I had to go back and reread all of them in a hurry. Hect said, That’s the first human thing you’ve ever told me about yourself.

Cute.

I told her that when I was seventeen I was overwhelmed by the cavalier relationship. I told her that I hadn’t expected it to feel that way. I told her, using efficient and unsentimental language, that the love Lieutenant Dyas showed me as my cavalier—in all the ways she had made us one flesh—turned my head completely. I told her how deeply I had fallen for Marta Dyas as a woman, to the point where one evening I tried to make things different between us. At this point I tried to find the words with Camilla, honourable words, and Camilla Hect said: You propositioned her? I said, Yes. She was the age I am now; I was seventeen. I’d been secretly reading material . . . I was convinced . . . I thought it was a natural development, or at least, one nobody had to know about.

Oh Judith, I know the feeling. Who doesn't love a capable strong woman?

I said I, who had had a healthy relationship with my cavalier, was obliged to help others who hadn’t had my privileges. She said if that was the way I had put it to Camilla then I was lucky to be alive.

Corona is probably right there, Judith.

I have an internal infection. My gut fused correctly to whatever grisly artificial thing they put inside me, but I’m dying. [...] They won’t let Camilla Hect in to see me, whether or not she would want to, on the belief that she might try to give me antibiotics. They are letting the princess in reluctantly. She says the Edenite commander We Suffer is of the opinion that I should live no matter what, but she is faced with the opposite opinion from literally every other Blood of Eden soldier.

Interesting. Eden aren't a cohesive unit as much as a bunch of squabbling soldiers, bickering over whether they should let their captive necromancer die.

I hope she doesn't.

She said, Did you know? Every birthday we got to have one person we’d invite and our mother and father would get to invite the rest, and Ianthe always invited whoever Babs didn’t want to see at the time, and I always invited you.

How perfectly Ianthe. Though Corona's reasoning are not far off, honestly:

She said, It was always me. I had so much fun seeing you. You were the only person who acted like they had to get through the party for duty’s sake, and everyone else was there acting like they’d rather die than be anywhere else. Even your cav pretended she was having fun . . . But there you were, wearing your uniform, freezing me out. Perfect Captain Deuteros. Perfectly boring Judith Deuteros.

This is so funny. "Everyone else was having a great time but you never even had a facial expression. I wanted to study you under the microscope like a weird bug. I loved that."

Jody, you can’t die on me. I’m so alone now. I said, It’s been a long time since you called me that. She said, You won’t die on me, Jody. I won’t allow it.

Oh, the loneliness and grief of Coronabeth Tridentarius are so palpable here. I ache for her. I really hope her and Ianthe can meet again someday.

Someone said, You absolute idiots, she’s very nearly dead. It was not one of the voices of the other Blood of Edenites. It was new, and spoke perfectly accented House, pitched high. It was this voice that said, Who gets a toy they have been desperate for, then breaks it immediately? [...] Why are you people always such a curious mix of the competent and the completely deranged?! It never changes, and it never has changed!! I think they just clone you all out of the same vat!! Out of my way, you wretched, cack-handed children, and let me fix it.

No clues yet to who this is, except it kinda sounds like Mercymorn. Am I just hoping beyond hope?

I have been under the knife and lived through multiple necromantic processes, some of them internal. Nothing had ever been like what was done to me. My body was convulsed with paraesthesia. The voice said, Much nicer, much neater. This is how to do it.

No, that still sounds like Mercymorn.

Then the voice said, Now show me this wretched body. I don’t believe this story for a second. What you’ve done is accidentally kept it airtight . . .

PLEASE tell me more about the body.

And yeah, I'm positive now that this was Mercymorn, on a secret undercover colluding with the Blood of Eden mission, probably before picking up Harrowhark and the Emperor.

I wonder if they will stop the experiments now. The corpse of the Ninth House cavalier is as pristine as when Camilla Hect convinced them to take it on board. She never explained herself fully to me. Some business about a note.

It IS Gideon!! And there IS something fucky going on with her body. PLEASE keep telling me more, this is fascinating.

A note -?

Camilla convinced them to take her???

So she's presumably not being used to track Harrow somehow. Why would Camilla want to -

And why isn't she decomposing? I would LOVE to hear what Mercymorn had to say about that.

It is not a confession of temptation. I wasn’t tempted by Coronabeth’s offer. There was never any possibility of it. I committed the understandable crime of desire for Lieutenant Marta Dyas, having joined my hand to hers with the best and most pure of intentions. Why would I ever knowingly take Coronabeth Tridentarius’s, having desired her already for twelve long, stupid, fruitless years? And I said, Thank you for the offer, Your Highness, but not in this life or in any other.

Whoa, dropping that gay in there almost unexpectedly, right at the end.

Wow this was one hell of a ride!!! We learned a lot, and yet still sooooo many questions remain.

I think at some point between now and re-starting Gideon the Ninth, I will have to compile a little post on all the thoughts and updated theories I've had in my absence. I've been very distracted with other things, but still this story has been bouncing around in my brain and generating more interesting thoughts that I wanna share.

I guess I only have to decide whether to do that before, or after reading Doctor Sex!

#tlt liveblog #the locked tomb liveblog #tlt spoilers #the locked tomb #tlt #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #as yet unsent #harrow the ninth spoilers

[dmsr-art]

Your art, spoilers and the twins are the reason I started reading the books earnestly, actually. I just couldn’t help my hs rotted brain making connections, especially after taking a look down your blog and seeing yall go insane over characters I have no clue about but still making me go 🤨 ‘I am connecting the dots’ NGL I’m trying my hardest not to skip to the parts where the twins are mentioned. Quick question because my mind is fuzzy about the first book, was Ianthe ever mentioned to using Coronabeth as like a ‘battery source’ in the first book. I swear I thought I remember reading that and if thats true, I swear to grog I know who the twins are loosely based off and its making me cry laughing if my suspicions are true…

oh my god 😭❤️ JFHSJ DONT SKIP TO THE TWINS.... savor the book (htn is my favorite of the 3), enjoy the lyctors and look forward to incredible siscon moments in nona the ninth.

to answer ur question, no it is never mentioned in the book that she siphons corona like a battery (silas is the one who siphons colum and they uh got some incesty vibes going on too 🫣). ianthe does however bites chunks of flesh, hair, and nails off babs when she's using her necromancy.

ok so u have probably already seen my art of the harryanthe arm scene but i think u should revisit it after u get to that part in the book >:3

#homestuck anon #vee asks

[chaos-has-theories]

WIP Tag/Reblog Game

Thank youuuuu @aidanchaser!

List the titles your top five priorities for WIP updates (link your fics for new readers!)

An upcoming scene, event, or detail in each fic that you're looking forward to writing

Bonus: make a poll for your followers to vote on which top 5 WIP they are most excited to see an update on!

Then tag 10 writer friends!

WIP TITLES

Specifically 5 fanfics this time around - the things that are loudest about rattling my head at the moment.

Timetravel AU - Septimus Heap After a series of escalating deaths, Marcia and Septimus use the House of Foryx to travel back in time and - hopefully - fix things.

Merlin Resurrection AU - working title "I Refuse" Merlin has been alive for a thousand years, and he just found out that the rest of the gang is back. The problem is, none of them fully remember anything: It's only just enough to spook Arthur hard enough that he cut contact with all of the others and is trying his hardest to just be an obnoxious college student.

Three is Company - Septimus Heap, role swap AU. Prequel/Equel to The Long Way Home. Answers such thrilling questions as "how did Septimus get adopted by the Queen?", "how much trauma can you put into one freshly-minted EOW?" and "What exactly IS going on between Marcia, Milo and Cerys?"

The Egypt Agenda Part 4: The Distant Goddess I have yet to properly write out my Egyptian analysis of Nona the Ninth! Also I've been meaning to put the other parts on Ao3 for a while

Gideon the Musical Ohhhh boy I just rediscovered this while going through my drafts and?? I mean no there's pretty much nothing in that file yet but now I really want to pick it up again

UPCOMING SECTIONS

I am two-thirds through the scene in which Septimus and Simon infiltrate the Young Army to rescue 412. I'm not sure why I haven't kept working because technically I'm at such a juicy point? 412 thinks he's about to be thrown into DN1, Septimus can't tell him what's really going on, and Simon is being told to do a spell that this-timeline Simon has no reason to know. It's GOOD I think I'm just scared I can't hit the correct balance for it

sgahjhgsshfdg Merlin just met Gwen and the Knights at a metal concert and they made their way backstage to greet Morgana and Morgause but like. Morgana is half-convinced he'll try to kill her again. Gwen is crying. Merlin is inwardly screaming because if THEY'RE all back does that mean Arthur is as well??? I probably COULD skip the explanations and just continue the scene where he confronts Arthur. I'm just.... not sure how to resolve it yet. Stubborn Prince is being Stubborn.

Milo just fished a baby from the river and is walking towards the Palace to greet his wife and newborn daughter. He is about to a) be accosted by a very panicked Marcia b) have to fast-talk his way past the Supreme Custodian and c) find out that his daughter is very dead. Noone is having a good day, except maybe for me, because all of this is setup for some VERY stupid miscommunication.

DID YOU KNOW that there's an actual myth in which "Alecto" runs off to live in a land where "John" has no direct jurisdiction so he has to send "Ianthe" to cajole her into coming back? YEAH. THAT

Act I works pretty well! Even Act II is fine! It gets more difficult after that. Anyway I have decided there's going to be a song called "To the Floor" and then it can have reprise elements in all the other duel scenes. How? I dunno whatever gave you the idea that I know what I'm doing

No way I can think of 10 and I don't know if any of you have already been tagged but hmmmm - @echo-has-queries @into-september @trainsinanime @liesmyth @septimus-heap

#chaos writes #tag games #there's nothing for ML on there right now.... there's already so much angst in these I couldn't stomach putting my Daemon AU on there too

[shadaofallthings]

Things I want to see in Alecto

Alecto having to go on bathroom duty for Kevin Alecto making Hotsauce realize they ain’t shit them treating them like they are perfectly serious

Paul and Alecto getting drunk together to reminisce 

Jod getting stabbed once per chapter

Ianthe trying her hardest to become the big bad

#the locked tomb #alecto tlt

[nazumichi]

RAII. RAII I JUST FINISHED GIDEON THE NINTH. TRYING MY HARDEST NOT TO CRY. WHAT THE FUVK WAS THAT. CURSE YOU (THANK YOU) FPR BEING THEREASON I READ THIS BOOK THIS IS SIMULTANEOUSLY THE BEST AND WORST THING I HAVE EVER READ. CURSE ME MOST OF ALL FOR THINKING IT WAS WACKY SILLY HIJINKS OF LESBIAN NECROMANCERS WHO KIND OF HATE EACH OTHER IN SPACE BC OF THE FANART... DOWNLOADING HTN AS WE SPEAK (my faves were gideon and palamedes and i would love to hear yours! something about himbos and malewives you see. yes i am calling palamedes a malewife, no i will not be taking questions on this <3)

OMG OMG OMG HIIIIIIII YOU READ GIDEON????? WAHWHAHA HIIII

YEAH IT WAS UHHHH. REALLY DECEIVING WHSHWHSHW i also went in thinking it was fun and wacky hijinks and well. it was not fun and wacky hijinks (i’m actually rereading it atm!!! because i finished nona and wanted pt 2).

!!!! gideon is also my fav, i love her sososososooo much it’s INSANE SHES SO…… wayfhygghhh. i also really love camilla, palamedes, and ianthe !!! they’re soooo sillay and other things too, good luck in advance!!!! seriously *grips chair*

#ask #olly tag #it’s SUCH a series to me perhaps one of the most series of all time #SOOOO happy you’re reading it btw btw!!! GAH it’s very very good mega excited for you !!!!

[harrowharkboygf]

rating the locked tomb characters by how good their met gala outfits would be

gideon nav

we can surmise from the “rapier with skulls puking other skulls” quote that gideon’s personal style, if she wasn’t beholden to the ninth house dress code, would be Loud and Tacky and A Lot. therefore, i think she’ll go all out with the theme. her outfit might not look objectively good per se — it will probably be a little too excessive and not super classy — but she will absolutely fulfill the theme and she will have fun, and that’s the most important part! 9/10

harrowhark nonagesimus

oh harrow will go all in on this. she will definitely be of the opinion that all guests should have to submit an essay explaining exactly how their outfit fits the theme, and she absolutely will get annoyed at the people who just wore simple black tuxes and dresses. she‘ll start planning her outfit months in advance, and it’s going to be incredibly complicated and very symbolic. her outfit is probably be a lot creepier and more goth than the rest of the guests, but it’ll still go perfectly with the theme anyways. 10/10

ortus nigenad

how much effort ortus puts into his outfit will depend SOLELY on what the theme was. if he thinks it’s a stupid theme he’ll put in zero energy whatsoever, and if he thinks it’s a good theme he will put in the work and come out with an outfit that’s definitely creative, even if it doesn’t look super great and is a little bit of a stretch on the theme. 7/10

judith deuteros

judith definitely does not care. she does not care at all, and if you asked her what the theme was, she couldn’t even tell you. she wears a simple black tux or black dress every year, and yes she looks hot as fuck and very classy and all of the gay girls on twitter go wild over it, but it’s not particularly creative or befitting of the theme. 3/10

marta dyas

marta cares a lot more than judith does, but she still focuses more on the event itself than the outfit; she’s more excited to dance, talk with her friends and acquaintances, and see other people’s outfits. if the met gala didn’t have a theme, she’d still be happy, but since it does, she’ll try to fit the theme as best she can! she refuses to sacrifice her own comfort or ability to dance in favor of an outfit though, which is very fair of her. no matter what, though, she looks good! 6/10

coronabeth tridentarius

oh you KNOW corona is acing this. she starts planning for her outfit a year in advance, but unlike harrow, she’s way less pretentious about it and willing to do something that might make fun of herself a little or make others laugh. she makes sure to call everyone she knows who’s going to make sure that their outfits won’t be too similar. she also makes sure that ianthe and babs’ outfits go good with hers. it’s the bane of her existence that judith won’t go to the lengths that she does. she fits the theme perfectly, she’s creative about it, and she looks hot as fuck. 100/10

ianthe tridentarius

as mentioned above, ianthe’s outfit is always designed to fit with coronabeth’s. it’s always very similar — not quite the same, but very close. same idea, slightly different execution. it’s always fitting with the theme, and looks really good objectively, but there’s a lack of investment and heart that ruins it a bit, especially next to corona’s extravaganza. still, when she’s next to the other guests, she definitely wins. 8/10

naberius tern

babs cares WAY more about looking good than he does about fitting the theme. his outfit is always a lot less creative than and themed than ianthe’s and corona’s. he never sidesteps the theme entirely, but he often refuses to go all the way in favor of not looking too weird. this is kind of a moot point, since he always looks a little weird anyway. 5.5/10

isaac tettares & jeannemary chatur

the awful teens were coordinating outfits each year, and each year they desperately want to fit the theme and do something cool, but they’re a little TOO eager about it. there’s always either a little bit too much going on with their outfits for the message to be fully cohesive, OR they didn’t go all the way because they were too embarrassed to do so. however, they definitely try their best and that’s what matters! 7.5/10

abigail pent & magnus quinn

abigail and magnus treat the met gala like a halloween party. they’re committed to the theme, but not in the militant, obsessive way that harrow and coronabeth are — it’s more that they have fun planning their coordinating outfits because costumes are fun! often their take on the theme is very nerdy and sweet, but maybe not super well done. still, they compliment everyone on their outfits and are so genuine about it that they get points anyway. 7/10

palamedes sextus

pal could honestly care less about the met gala, but he attends anyway and spends the whole night deep in conversation with anyone who will talk science with him. as such, his outfit is. Very Lacking. cam usually designs it for him and it fits the theme pretty well and looks objectively good, but he gets points off for not coming up with it himself. 5/10

camilla hect

pal and cam don’t wear coordinated outfits, but they are still somewhat cohesive, as cam plans them both. camilla’s outfit is definitely much better than palamedes’ is — it fits the theme and is more creative and she just generally looks hotter. however, she’s not putting the same level of energy most of the people listed above. but it’s fun, it looks good, and she passes the test. 7/10

dulcinea septimus

dulcie’s attitude towards the met gala would be very similar to magnus and abigail’s in that she treats it like a fun opportunity rather than a life-or-death situation, but she definitely leans more “tasteful” over magnus and abigail’s typical style of “dorky”. she follows the theme closely and she looks good! 8/10

protesilaus ebdoma

pro always goes with dulcie, and he just dresses in an outfit that she’s planned to be coordinated with hers. he’s a little bemused at the intensity of some of the others, but he goes along with the whole thing because it makes dulcie happy. points off for not coming up with his own idea, points added for looking very dashing regardless. ortus is fuming at how well-put-together his outfit is. 5/10

silas octakiseron

silas shares the same all-or-nothing attitude that ortus has towards the theme, but when he approves of the theme, his execution comes very close to beating out harrow’s outfit in terms of Drama and Sophistication. his outfits are often a little impractical — they’re hard to walk in or require elaborate props to be transported alongside him — but they’re worth it. 9/10

colum asht

colum just wears a suit the same color as whatever silas’ outfit is that year. boring! 2/10

augustine the first

augustine tries his hardest, but he never quite nails the theme. somehow, it always goes straight over his head, so when he explains it to people, they’re always like “*confused head tilt* hmmm, okay now i think i get it! huh!” he looks,,, fine in it, and he tries. he tries! 4/10

mercymorn the first

mercy’s sense of style in general is very good, so she always comes in a dress that’s fashionable and well-designed. the problem is that she actively abhors the idea of a themed party; she actively campaigns to the organizers each year to not do a theme. she thinks that everyone who does the theme is ridiculous. as such, she ends up with a low 3/10

cytherea the first

cytherea has a good Idea for the met gala every year, but for some reason — she bites off more than she can chew or she fails to accurately articulate her vision or she procrastinates until the last minute — that idea never translates into an actual outfit, so she always falls back on a simple, soft clinging dress. fashionable, but unfortunately not very standout-ish. 3.5/10

gideon the first

gideon (original flavor) just wears a boring black suit every year. THE most boring black suit ever. 1/10

pyrrha dve

okay, admittedly we haven’t seen that much of pyrrha in canon, but from what we do know, she is smart and talented and funny and good at everything and has a dramatic streak and is incredibly hot. therefore, i think we can surmise that she’ll absolutely nail her met gala outfit. it’ll fit the theme, it’ll be very original and very well-done, and she’ll be sexy as fuck! good for her! 15/10

john gaius

he wears the exact same black tux every year. the same one. he pays no attention to the theme whatsoever. this is very confusing, since HE is the one who organizes the met gala and picks the theme! weirdo! even worse, john makes a point to give backhanded compliments to people he thinks don’t fit the theme or don’t look good. bitch! -10/10

#tlt #the locked tomb #gideon nav #harrowhark nonagesimus #ianthe tridentarius #judith deuteros #marta dyas #coronabeth tridentarius #naberius tern #jeannemary chatur #isaac tettares #abigail pent #magnus quinn #palamedes sextus #camilla hect #dulcinea septimus #protesilaus ebdoma #silas octakiseron #colum asht #ortus nigenad #cytherea the first #augustine the first #mercymorn the first #gideon the first #pyrrha dve #john gaius #htn spoilers #soph.txt

[darkveracity]

Gideon the Ninth Dating Sim

The Structure

There’s a Taz Muir quote about how The Locked Tomb is a story where any girl could possibly hook up with any other girl and this is an attempt to replicate that. Every character’s relationship with every other character evolves over the course of the game and depending on events it’s perfectly possible for many different combinations to end up together

There are three acts. The first two acts develop the relationships between the characters and achieve various milestones with the lyctor trials. In the third act Cytherea begins murdering people, everything falls apart, and you see whether the decisions you made in the first two acts are enough to let you fall in love and survive.

The Heroine

Gideon: Our heroine. Loyal, true, extremely hot, ready to date any and all of these eligible ladies

The Capture Targets

Harrow: The childhood friend. Her relationship with Gideon has an enormous impact on events regardless of whether or not you’re trying to romance her so she has a prominent role in all routes. By far the hardest character to romance successfully

Ianthe: The dangerous badgirl rival. Flirting with her is a terrible idea but you can’t help but do it anyway. Depending on how events turn out she may end up romancing Harrow (an OT3 ending is also possible!)

Corona: The refined rich girl with a terrible secret. So beautiful and friendly that it’s easy to forget that she’s also kind of a bully. Has a lot of complicated jealousy content with Ianthe where they try to sabotage each other’s relationships (Gideon+Harrow+Ianthe+Corona double dates!). Depending on how events turn out she may end up romancing Camilla or Judith. An OT3 ending with her and Ianthe is possible but very very tricky.

Camilla: The best friend. Extremely cool, shares most of your interests, supports your relationships. Romancing her is easy mode

Judith: The uptight senpai. Neurotic, wildly confident, convinced that she always knows best. Not a great person to look up to but sometimes you just have to bite that bullet if you want a girlfriend

Jeannemary: The little sister. Sweet baby butch. NOT A ROMANCE ROUTE but if you hang out with her enough you can basically adopt her. Depending on events she may end up getting mentored by Abigail, Corona, or Camilla instead (”OT3″ endings are also possible for these).

Abigail: The older woman. Mature responsible adults are extremely sexy or at least they are when they have MILF energy. Has a secret ending where you show her your sword and she summons Wake’s vengeful spirit to wreak havoc

Cytherea: The secret killer. EXTREMELY HOT 10,000 year old war criminal. Like Harrow, she has a prominent role to play in all routes regardless of whether you’re trying to romance her or not. Unlike Harrow this role is murder. The other characters’ good endings require defeating her but her ending is that she murders all of your friends and keeps you as a pet

The Supporting Cast

Palamedes: The central support character who helps you survive all this lesbian romance drama. Plays a prominent supporting role in all routes but becomes a rival if you try to romance Cytherea. Has a secret best friend route you can get if you fail to romance a girl

Naberius: Mostly shows up in Corona and Ianthe’s routes. Rival for Corona’s affections (he may not be able to win her but by god he’s going to sabotage you)

Marta: Mildly antagonistic supporting character who shows up for Judith’s route

Isaac & Magnus: Friendly supporting characters who show up for both Jeannemary and Abigail’s routes

Silas & Colum: Antagonistic characters who cause problems as the game reaches the third act and the murders start

Teacher: Cryptic, twee, unhelpful, occasionally provides a startlingly accurate picture of how everyone feels about each other

#gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #gideon nav #harrowhark nonagesimus #the locked tomb

[elentiyawhitethorn]

The Bet | Chapter Twenty-One

Day 54 (Part Two)

Not Azriel. Not Azriel.

That’s all Feyre could think after the sound of the gunshot as she rose, trying to get her hair out of her face. Her ankle almost buckled under the weight, taking Feyre’s mind off of the gunshot for a moment. Not for long though.

She gritted her teeth and shifted her weight to her right leg, successfully rising with help from the alley wall, finally getting the flying strands of her hair out of her eyes.

And Feyre was greeted with the image of Azriel leaning against the brick wall opposite her, clutching his shoulder.

Shit. He was the one who got shot.

Ianthe was holding the gun, not finishing the job. Because she didn’t want Azriel dead, not yet; she wanted to savor the moment. She wanted to savor the sight of blood slowly oozing down his shirt in a spiral, almost like a piece of art. There was a massive grin on her face.

Ianthe had either become extremely unhinged, or she had been a fucking expert at concealing it.

And then Feyre leapt.

Her ankle screamed in protest, even though she tried not to put too much pressure on it. But Feyre ignored the pain, the fear and the hesitation, and she used every fiber of strength she possessed to tackle Ianthe.

The pair hit the ground, Ianthe gasping in surprise and from the rough landing, having thought Feyre was taken care of. Ianthe tried to push her off, but Feyre wasn’t letting her get an advantage.

Trying to summon every bit of knowledge drilled into her brain by Cassian, Feyre slammed her weight onto Ianthe’s shoulder, preventing her from shoving Feyre aside. Feyre then reached for the gun. What she would do when she got ahold of it, she didn’t even try to think right now.

But Ianthe had other plans. When Feyre stretched out her arm to grab the pistol, Ianthe slammed her own head into Feyre’s, making her cry out.

Gods, how thick was that woman’s skull?

Then Ianthe proceeded to use all of her momentum to roll Feyre on her back, Ianthe on top now. Ianthe pinned her hands down with her own.

“You’re more resilient than I had expected,” Ianthe hissed, but there was a gleeful look on her face.

If Azriel wasn’t helping, he was definitely injured badly enough not to be able to move. Hopefully no worse than that. Feyre didn’t bother replying as she wracked her mind for a way out of this.

Your elbow is the hardest part of your body. Use it, Cassian had once said. He had pretended to be an attacker, coming at her. Feyre had indeed elbowed him in the stomach, causing him to grunt in pain. Those rapists won’t know what’s coming, he’d complimented with a wicked grin. Feyre had just rolled her eyes.

The only issue was both of her arms were still pinned to the stone ground by Ianthe. So Feyre twisted her neck and opened her mouth.

Ianthe screeched in pain as she felt Feyre bite her arm and draw blood, letting go of her left arm. Feyre used the opening to swing her elbow around and hit Ianthe in the gut.

Ianthe howled, pure rage, but it was enough. Feyre launched herself at the gun, getting her hand around it.

Ianthe was next to her, and Feyre stood before she could be overwhelmed again, completely disregarding her ankle. Gods, she had definitely twisted it - at the very least. It might be sprained.

Ianthe got up just as Feyre spat on the ground, trying to get the taste of Ianthe’s blood out of her mouth. She was going to be scouring her mouth when she brushed her teeth later.

There was a menacing scowl on Ianthe’s face, and her eyes were trained on the gun in Feyre’s hand. Feyre held up the pistol, aiming at Ianthe. She put her index finger on the trigger. She had never touched a gun before, but hopefully it wasn’t too hard to figure out.

“You won’t do it,” Ianthe said, certainty in her voice. She took a step forward.

Feyre didn’t dare look over to Azriel; she knew Ianthe would use any opportunity she could get. “Stop, Ianthe. I don’t want to kill you.”

Ianthe snorted. “So if I just walk away, you’re going to be okay with that? Do you even have a plan?”

That was a good question. Feyre didn’t want to kill anyone she didn’t have to, but if Ianthe got away, she could cause so much trouble.

Ianthe, reading the hesitation on Feyre’s face, chose that moment to lunge. And Feyre pulled the trigger.

But not before adjusting her aim by an immense amount. The gun was point at Ianthe’s foot when Feyre shot.

Ianthe yelled and dropped to the ground. The silencer may have covered up the sound of the gunshot, but surely someone would hear Ianthe shouting, now curled up in a ball on the ground.

Feyre used the chance to look over at Azriel. His face was pale, and blood had oozed further down his shirt, the hand than had previously been pressed over the wound hanging limply at his side. Azriel’s eyes were closed.

But he was still leaning against the wall. If he was dead, he wouldn’t be standing. Feyre raced over the short distance.

“Azriel?”

“I’m okay,” he muttered.

“I’m calling an ambulance,” Feyre whispered. She was scared now. Azriel had sweat dripping down his forehead.

Azriel reached out a hand to stop Feyre’s own from grabbing her phone, still undamaged in her pocket. His eyes finally flickered open.

“Azriel, I need to-”

“I’ll be fine. We need to go.”

Feyre didn’t know what to say. “Az, you’ve been shot.” She glanced back at Ianthe for a moment, then turned to Azriel again. “We can’t just go home and put some bandaids on it.”

“No.” His voice was firm. “You’ll get into trouble. It doesn’t matter that it was self-defense. You know how much influence they have. Just go.”

“Leave you? Do you honestly think that’s a viable solution for me?” Feyre hissed.

“Don’t then. Call Rhys. He’ll get us.”

That was all Feyre needed to hear before turning back to Ianthe, who was now pathetically crawling. Her foot was soaked in blood. So much blood. Too much.

She had no fucking idea what to do. The pistol in her hand was hanging limply now. And then Feyre made a decision.

She dropped the gun on the ground and pulled her phone out of her pocket. And dialed.

Not Rhys, though, as Azriel had suggested.

“991, what’s your emergency?” a female voice calmly asked on the other end.

“Some woman attacked us with a gun and my friend is injured.”

The woman asked for Feyre’s location, so she turned, looking for a street sign. But then her phone was plucked out of her hand from behind.

Azriel.

He had walked over the short distance, but even that little movement caused him pain, as Feyre could clearly see written across his face.

“Azriel!” Feyre hissed. “What are you doing?”

Azriel tapped the end call button and started dialing. Feyre tried to peak over his shoulder, but he kept the phone directed away from her.

On the third ring, someone picked up. “I need you to come pick us up.” A pause as a muffled voice replied to Azriel’s request. Feyre couldn’t be sure, but it didn’t sound like Rhys.

Then Azriel stated their location; he must have either looked before he arrived or already known where they were. Feyre couldn’t see a sign. “Three of us. Two gunshot wounds and a sprained ankle,” he continued.

Three of us? Ianthe was coming too? And where exactly were they going?

Azriel hung up the phone. “Thanks for letting me borrow that. I think I dropped my phone somewhere.” His voice was so casual.

“Fucking hell, Azriel. Who was that? What’s happening?” Feyre was a little pissed off, to say the least. “You’re hurt! We need an ambulance.”

Azriel let out a raspy breath. “Help me sit down.”

His complexion was pale enough that Feyre didn’t think he was saying it to avoid her questions. Or not completely because he was avoiding the questions, anyway. She grabbed his arm and pulled him against the brick once more, supporting his weight as he slid down the wall to the ground.

When she pulled her arm off of him, she noticed there was blood staining her arm now. “Your back is bleeding too.”

Azriel did something with his face. Perhaps it was a smile? “That’s good. There’s an exit wound. I got lucky.”

“You call this lucky?” Feyre put her hand over his shoulder, ignoring his wince. She may not be a doctor, but she had binged enough medical dramas with Mor throughout college to know to put pressure on the bleeding.

“Are you going to answer my questions, or am I just going to sit here praying nobody walks around the corner and finds a bunch of bleeding people before your mystery friend gets here?”

Azriel didn’t answer. Maybe he couldn’t. Gods, Feyre should have tried harder to get the police involved. She’d really let someone with a serious gunshot wound take her phone, and Azriel might pay the price because of it.

“Ianthe’s still causing a racket,” Feyre continued. “You said there were three of us. What exactly are you going to do with her?”

Azriel just sent her an annoyed glance.

“Azriel! I get you’re injured, but I really need you to answer me. I am having an extreme-level freak-out.” She was indeed. Feyre’s heart was racing. The adrenaline had been used up, being replaced with nerves and fear.

A small sigh left Azriel’s mouth. “Do you trust me?”

Feyre thought for a minute. “Yes,” she replied. And it was true. She may not know the man that well, and she may have serious trust issues, but Feyre found she did trust Azriel.

“Then just calm down. It’ll only be a minute more.”

Feyre didn’t bother asking what exactly would be a minute more. She knew Azriel wouldn’t answer.

Instead she sighed, turning her head toward Ianthe. The woman was still on the ground clutching her foot, but she was a little quieter now. Ianthe was sending a murderous glare in their direction that Feyre decided to ignore.

Her own ankle was throbbing. It needed ice, and soon, but it was certainly better than what Azriel was dealing with.

A drop of something fell on Feyre’s head. Great. It was raining.

And then Feyre heard something new. A vehicle. If somebody found them here, there would be trouble. Hopefully it would go somewhere else. But what if it was Azriel’s friend?

You’re thinking too much, Feyre thought to herself. If you’re caught, you’re caught. Nothing you can do about it.

A van pulled around the corner.

Feyre started praying.

The van stopped in front of them. A woman got out. Was it just Feyre’s imagination, or did she look slightly familiar? But now wasn’t the time to think on that.

The woman moved to the back of the van and opened the large doors. She then walked over, a calm - but kind of welcoming? - expression on her face. Probably Azriel’s friend, from the identical look on his own face.

Feyre tried to stand, and managed, albeit barely. “Hello.”

The woman smiled. “Hello Feyre.” Her voice. The fact that she knew her name. Gods, Feyre definitely knew this woman. Who was she?

“Assist Azriel into the van. I’ll get Ianthe.” Get how, Feyre didn’t ask. And what exactly the plan was for her, she also decided to put off until there were safe. Or how the woman knew Ianthe’s name.

Feyre looked down at Azriel, still on the ground, waiting for the nod of confirmation he gave her. Then she looped her arms around his body and pulled him up.

A minute of grunting and pulling and near-useless struggling had Azriel on his feet, leaning heavily against Feyre. She slowly walked him over to the van and hauled him in the back. There were seats along the sides. They were even cushioned.

Feyre sat next to Azriel on the seat and turned her head to the woman. She was hauling Ianthe toward them. Ianthe was in her arms, but the woman didn’t seem to be struggling with the weight at all. Ianthe was unconscious. She had passed out or-

There was a syringe sticking out of the woman’s pocket. She had sedated Ianthe.

Feyre was scared. Azriel’s approval didn’t matter anymore; this was creepy and terrifying. She had just willingly crawled into the back of a van belonging to a strange woman who somehow knew Feyre’s name. Ted Bundy would be so proud.

And then the sky split open. Rain poured down, just as the woman placed Ianthe on the seat across from them. She closed the doors, and a moment later, the driver’s side door opened.

The woman got in and buckled her seatbelt. And then she started to drive. Heavy drops of rain were splashing across the windows and Feyre could hear thunder in the distance.

This was nightmare. It had to be.

“There’s a medical kit under the seat. Get bandages and put them over the wound,” the woman instructed.

Feyre was too in shock to argue or ask any questions. She pulled out the kit and started to work. Azriel’s eyes were closed slightly, but not all the way. He looked even worse than he had a few minutes ago.

Once she did the best she could do, Feyre decided it was time to figure out what was going on. “Who are you? How do you know my name?”

The woman met Feyre’s gaze in the rear view mirror. And she smiled. “You really don’t recognize me, do you.” Not a question. “Think, Feyre. Take your time.”

This was ridiculous. How was Feyre supposed to remember her right now, after everything that had just happened? But then a memory started to surface.

-

Feyre had entered a building and met a woman at the entrance.

The woman had given a friendly smile. “Hello, my name is Ms. Wood, but you can call me Weaver. Are you here for the domestic abuse support group?”

Feyre had smiled at her and nodded, feeling too scared to speak.

Weaver had pointed out a room where several others were headed as well. She had then added, “I’ll be back as soon as everyone arrives.”

Feyre had given another nervous grin and a matching nod.

-

Weaver Wood. The woman who led Feyre’s support group? And Rhys had been there? What did he know about this?

No, Feyre was thinking of the wrong person. A therapist wasn’t some sort of... whatever this woman was. And yet-

“Weaver,” Feyre said, praying she was right. Or wrong, possibly. She didn’t know what she wanted out of this situation.

The woman - Weaver - smiled in the mirror again at Feyre. “Good. I’m sorry for the secrecy, Feyre. I think it’s time I explain.”

AN: For those of you who don’t remember the weaver at all, she was in chapter 9.

Also, my first tag list is below. If you want to be added to it, feel free to send an ask or message me. If you ever want to be removed from it, don’t feel bad about asking.

Tag List:

@live-the-fangirl-life

#feysand #acotar #the bet #my writing

[thewayshedreamed]

Secrets Don’t Make Friends— Feysand AU

Prompt submission by Nonnie— Reverse fake dating au where everyone thinks you’re dating and you’re keeping it a secret, but you’re not.

Thank you to whoever sent this one in! I had an idea for Nessian, so I may post that one as well if y’all are interested! 

——————————————————————————

It was another beautiful day in Velaris, and Feyre couldn't seem to focus on her newest project assignment for anything. She found herself gazing out of the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the Sidra's soothing flow and mentally mixing her various paints to capture the unique color.

Unfortunately, her firm's newest client didn't care much for river paintings since they were paying for a full digital marketing overhaul. Truth be told, she didn’t hate her job as a creative director for the largest marketing firm in Velaris. It allowed her a steady income, let her flex her creativity to some capacity, and definitely kept her on her toes. She had started as a design team member with the firm several years ago upon graduating from Prythian U, and after several largely successful projects, she started to gain more responsibilities within the team. Once her team’s creative director, Amarantha, had moved on to another firm, Feyre had been promoted to her position.

She turned back to her computer screen, willing the motivation to hit her. Any moment now.

This was a typical pattern for her. Initiating a new project was always the hardest part, but once she got started, she tumbled down the proverbial rabbit hole. She just had to... start.

“Ughh,” Feyre lamented. “I wish I was halfway through this proposal already. I’m way better at that point in the project.”

”You are pretty worthless right now,” Lucien joked. Feyre offered a vulgar gesture in return, earning a hearty laugh from her friend.

Lucien left the marketing side of the firm about a year ago, itching for a different opportunity that would allow him to express himself more freely. He felt stifled by the business side of things; the numbers, the politics, the marketing director he worked under. Tamlin hadn’t been the absolute worst to him, but his leadership style didn’t align well with Lucien for the long-term. He had ended up as a member of Feyre’s team and seemed to fill a void they weren’t aware they had.

“I can’t be that mad at you, to be honest. You’re not wrong,” she replied. “Maybe I need caffeine to get out of the post-lunch slump.”

”Someone say caffeine?”

Rhysand Vila approached, perching on the corner of Feyre’s desk. He was wearing dark khaki slacks with a black button down, rolled up to the elbows. At some point, he had ditched his tie in favor of an open neckline, likely free of meetings for the rest of the day. His casual appearance didn’t readily identify him as one of the firm’s most successful marketing directors, but his authenticity was one of the things that extended his influence the most.

Rhysand’s marketing team often collaborated with Feyre’s creative one, and they managed to create some of the most well-balanced projects within the firm. They worked so flawlessly together that they were starting to become almost exclusively paired, much to the chagrin of some of the other teams. Not only were their proposals solid, their presentations were engaging and convincing. Their perspectives on the projects, combined with their mutual respect of the other’s contributions, presented a solid, united front that built trust with their clients.

Through long work hours and multiple business trips across Prythian, Rhysand had become one of Feyre’s dear friends. When they’d originally started working together, his cockiness had grated her nerves to the nth degree, but she realized over time that it was mostly in jest. In truth, Rhysand was kind-hearted, cared deeply for the people in his life, and an incredibly supportive partner on client projects.

They’d fallen into a comfortable kind of friendship, and they’d only gotten closer with time. He’d confided in her about the toxic relationship he and Amarantha had foolishly found themselves in, and he’d listened to her never-ending rants about her brief coupling with Tamlin, nothing but understanding all over his face.

“I think a coffee run is a necessity,” Feyre said, playfulness dancing across her features.

“I left my wallet in my desk. I’ll go grab it. Meet you at the elevator?” Rhysand asked as he walked backward toward his office.

“Sounds good!” she replied. She turned to Lucien. “You coming?”

He had an odd look on his face, smirk included. She gave him a questioning look, and he let out a low chuckle. “Nah. But if I give you my card, will you grab something for me?”

”Why wouldn’t you just come? I’m not your coffee bitch, Vanserra.” That earned a full laugh.

”And I would never assume you to be. If I’m going to take a break, I don’t feel like being third wheel, is all.” The confused look returned to her face, and he continued. “Feyre, stop. It’s not my company either of you want on this little coffee date. You and Rhysand can go about your charade with anyone else, but you’re not getting that shit by me. It’s fine— you two are great together. I just can’t figure out why you insist on the secret.”

Feyre’s expression morphed into a stunned one, and it took her a few seconds to decide on a response. She and Rhysand had never crossed any lines beyond platonic, so all of this was news to her.

”Luce, I’m not sure who your source was for that little nugget of info, but don’t trust them with anything incredibly important in the future. They’re way off,” she assured him. “Text me your coffee order.”

She made her way to the elevator, finding Rhysand propped against the wall on his shoulder. He was scrolling through his phone, stray black hair falling across his brow, looking as if he couldn’t be bothered by the work day. Once the elevator made it to their floor, they stepped inside and found themselves sharing with Morrigan Reina. She was head of Human Resources, absolutely stunning, and Rhysand’s cousin. She had to admit, their genetic pool was quite impressive, all things considered. She was his opposite in every way with her brown eyes and blonde hair, but they shared immaculate bone structure and a certain elegance. Objectively speaking.

“Well, hi! This elevator ride just got way more fun. How’s is going, Rhysie? Fey?” Her dark eyes sparkled, dancing over Rhysand’s face. She raised her eyebrows at him slightly, silently communicating with him in that way only family can.

”Oh, come off it, Mor. We’re on a coffee run. Care to join?” Something in his tone seemed oddly like a challenge. She realized she hadn’t yet answered Morrigan but felt like a response of “Doing well” would seem out of context, since Rhys had already transitioned away from greetings. She deciding on standing there awkwardly, pretending not to feel incredibly intimidated by this woman in the elevator.

“So sweet of you, but I’ll have to take a rain check. This is my floor actually. Unfortunately, I have a termination meeting to attend. Have some for me!” She brushed her cheek against his in a mock kiss. “Good seeing you, Feyre!” She disappeared so quickly that Feyre started to doubt if she was ever there in the first place.

“Awfully prickly with your dear cousin this afternoon, Rhysie,” she teased.

”Well, dearest Mor can be quite the busy body and likes to think she knows all of my secrets.” He gave a small eye roll, but the smirk on his face gave his affection away.

“You have my attention. I think it’s only fair that I’m let in on this little secret.”

She swore the tops of his bronze ears turned slightly pink. “I assure you I’m not that interesting, Feyre Darling.”

As if on cue, the elevator chimed, and they were walking into their building’s lobby. The coffee shop was right next door, so they made their way there quickly. Within 10 minutes, they had their coffees in hand and were sharing an elevator with a small crowd on their way back to work. Feyre regretted that she wasn’t able to press Rhys for his secrets anymore but supposed it was for the best.

He took the long way to his office in order to drop her off at her desk. She set Lucien’s coffee down on his desk with just enough force to startle him out of his work, earning a laugh from Rhys. Lucien simply glared at her before mumbling his thanks and taking a long pull of coffee.

“Well, Feyre Darling, this is where I leave you.”

Lucien eyed her over his coffee lid, lowering it slowly as he paid full attention to their exchange.

Feyre chuckled, ignoring Lucien altogether. “Thanks for returning me safely. I fully intend on pulling at least one secret from you on the next trip, though. You’ve been warned.”

His violet eyes bore into hers, amusement all over his face. “Do your worst,” he replied, winking at her as he sipped his coffee and walked away.

——————————————————————————

Coffee seemed to be just the inspiration Feyre needed to hit her creative stride for the afternoon. She finally managed to land on a prospective theme for the new account, and she was busy making some rough sketches on her drawing tablet. A booming voice called out to her from down the hall, and she recognized it immediately as Tamlin. Of course he would recruit her attention once she was finally feeling productive.

“Feyre, could you come down as soon as you’re free? I’d like you to do a consult with Ianthe.”

She forced herself to refrain from rolling her eyes, trying her best to be diplomatic.

“Sure, Tamlin. Be there in a bit.”

He hesitated at his office door, poorly masking his impatience when she didn’t immediately jump out of her chair. Typical.

She was already annoyed at his loud declaration across the office that he was asking her to give feedback on another creative director’s work. She didn’t feel particularly protective over Ianthe. It was just poor form, and it set the tone for resentment with no true reason.

Finally, she stood and made her way to his office. He was in his office chair, Ianthe pointing to various items of interest on a flat screen mounted to the wall. She greeted Feyre politely, but it didn’t seem like she was all to keen on getting her feedback.

“What can I help with?” Feyre offered.

“I wanted to see what you thought about the account we’re working on. Considering that you’ve been monopolized by Vila for months, I thought I could at least get a brief consult,” he explained.

Feyre decided to mentally count how many underhanded comments she’d endure over the course of this meeting.

One.

”Sure. What’s up?”

Ianthe launched into the cliff notes of her project, Tamlin contributing nothing the entire time.

“I’m sure you’re probably swamped with whatever you’re working on Feyre, so I appreciate you taking time to look at what I’ve put together.” Ianthe seemed genuine enough. She wasn’t sure if she trusted her, but she felt bad for her all the same.

Before she could respond, Tamlin inserted himself. “Oh, she’s definitely seems busy. Just not sure how much of it is work-related.” Her head snapped toward him, eyes blazing. She steadied herself and turned her attention back to Ianthe to try and keep this meeting on track.

Two.

”Honestly, Ianthe, I think you have a great proposal overall. My only suggestion is that you consider a different color focus. Your primary color for the logo is red, and that happens to be the main color of their largest competitor’s logo as well,” she stated, ignoring Tamlin entirely.

He started to say something about her input, but she quickly interrupted him.

“How unfortunate that the person responsible for doing the relevant market research into any competitors didn’t think that to be relevant intel to bring to the project,” she finished, eyes gravitating back to Tamlin’s face.

”Good catch,” Ianthe said simply.

��It’s happened to me before, too. Don’t create too much additional work for yourself. Maybe see about pulling one of your coordinating colors forward instead, and see how that plays out. No need to reinvent the wheel.”

”I’m not sure how you’ve managed to convince Vila to do all that extra legwork on your behalf, but it sounds like you’re awfully convincing,” Tamlin seethed. He couldn’t help himself, it seemed.

Three.

It was quiet for several uncomfortable seconds. As if on cue, her savior himself appeared in Tamlin’s doorway, a friendly smile on his face just for her. He knocked with his knuckle as he glanced around the room.

“Sorry for interrupting. Feyre, could you stop by my office before you head out today? Nothing big. Our last account sent an email asking for some minor changes, and I wanted to get your input before I tell them anything,” he said.

“Of course, Rhys. I’ll be there in a second,” she replied. He gave her one of his dazzling smiles, that rogue strand of hair kissing his brow yet again. When he walked away, she immediately felt compelled to follow him, as if he took the light straight out of the room when he left.

“You may go, Ianthe,” Tamlin stated dryly. She quickly excused herself, repeating her thanks to Feyre on the way out.

“You realize you two are partners— she doesn’t work for you.”

“Our dynamic is hardly your business, Feyre.” He wasn’t exactly wrong, but she hated the way he spoke to people who worked with him. It had always bothered her.

“Says the guy who all but insinuated that I’m putting out to get Rhys to be a good partner on projects. You’re unbelievable.”

“All of the speculation that circulates around this office regarding you and Rhysand, and you’re caught on what I’ve said? Feyre, sweetie. I thought we were past this.”

”It seems as though the lot of you aren’t busy enough if you have all this time to discuss whether Rhys and I have some secret affair happening under your noses. Maybe if you put half that effort into your job duties, you’d be an almost decent partner to Ianthe,” she snapped.

“You shouldn’t concern yourself with me and Ianthe. We’ll work together in whatever way works for us. Plus, you basically belong to Rhys now, so you won’t have to worry over having to work with the likes of me.” The way he mockingly said Rhys’ name made her want to punch him in the throat.

She turned on her heel to leave, so angry that she didn’t trust herself to respond professionally. Once she got to the doorway, she found the words rolling off her tongue without a conscious thought.

“I ‘belong’ to no one. Your problem is that you see people as assets rather than building relationships. You should consider incorporating a little humanity into your leadership. You may find yourself a little less miserable to work for or be around. From now on, Ianthe can address me directly if she needs me. You, sir, can fuck off.”

——————————————————————————

Feyre made her way directly to Rhysand’s office, still fuming. She probably needed a quick break on the roof to clear her head, but it was already 4:30. She didn’t want to make Rhys stay late so that she could pout properly. Although, he’d probably do that for her if she asked.

She approached his door, knocking lightly when she saw he was on the phone. He waved her in as he finished his call. He let out a polite chuckle at whomever was on the line, and she wondered how even his contrived laughter sounded almost musical.

“Absolutely. I’ll see you for lunch tomorrow. Bye.” He placed the receiver of his office phone into the cradle and faced her fully.

“Hey there, Feyre Darling. Thanks for saving some time for me today. I hope I didn’t overstep, but I wasn’t sure when if I’d be able to catch you later.” He leaned back in his chair, propped his elbow on the arm rest, and cupped his large hand to run it over his face. So he was tired, too.

Feyre let out a low chuckle. “You’re my hero, basically. Your timing was absolutely perfect. Never hesitate to interrupt if Tamlin is the person I’m talking to.”

His bright, violet eyes seemed to linger on her face. “I wouldn’t mind hearing you laugh again,” he mused. “It’s become one of my favorite sounds, I think.”

She couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face, and she found one mirrored on his own. She cleared her throat, unsure how to tame the butterflies she was experiencing at his words.

“Shall we?” She motioned to his computer, and he nodded. She pulled her chair to his desk so that she could see, but he forced her to switch with him, insisting she take control of moving through the project.

She wasn’t sure if she was reading way too much into the weird comments she had heard today about her and Rhys, but she was acutely aware of his thigh so close to hers. It was far enough that they weren’t flush, but she could feel the heat radiating off of him in the most distracting way.

He already had the project pulled up on the screen and asked her to move through the document to the place of the proposed changes. He reached across her slightly to point at something, and she was instantly immersed in his scent. She found it oddly comforting, if she was honest with herself.

“So what do you think? Is it a simple fix? Or would this be something beyond the originally contracted rate? If it’s going to take you some time, I think it’s appropriate that we negotiate an additional fee, especially considering we’ve just initiated another large account.”

”Mmm. It’s been a while. Mind if I play with it for a minute?” she asked.

”Yeah, for sure. Take your time,” he said, leaning back in his chair as she worked.

Several minutes passed in excruciating silence, causing Feyre to break out in nervous laughter.

“You can talk to me, you know. It’s eerily quiet in here,” she joked.

He huffed a laugh. ”Hmm, okay. Anything particularly interesting around the office today?”

She thought immediately of her conversations with Lucien and Tamlin, and she couldn’t help but include their interaction with Mor in the elevator on the list. It really was such a weird day.

She worked for a couple of seconds before she replied. “It was quite the day, to say the least. I learned a lot about myself via the grapevine.”

”You mean to tell me there’s gossip in this office?”

”This very one,” she replied through a laugh.

“This is the part where you tell me what’s been said about you, Darling.”

She big her bottom lip, nervous of how he would react. “Well, it’s not exclusive to me. It has to do with you, too.” Her eyes never left the computer screen as she spoke.

“I like how that looks,” he said in regard to her edits, jumping straight back into their original conversation. “Now you have to tell me, especially if I’m involved.”

He offered a small poke to her ribs, laughing at her jerking away from him and the glare it earned. “Spill, Archeron.”

Before she could chicken out, she described her interaction with Lucien prior to their coffee run. He went entirely still as she spoke, eyes trained on the screen. When she finished, he said, “I see. I bet Lucien thinks he’s quite clever, then... Oh wait, I like that better.” He pointed to a small change she made.

He seemed so indifferent, and despite her attempts to the contrary, it bothered her that he was acting so cavalier. She had to check herself, remembering how ridiculous she had found the comments only a handful of hours ago. It was certainly unfair to have expectations of him being that she had barely finished processing this afternoon’s events.

“Yeah, I guess he’s pretty proud of himself. I don’t know how much he believed me when I told him he was off-base, but time will tell, I guess.” She immediately launched into her interaction with Tamlin, outlining the full interaction for him.

His jaw was tense throughout the story, and she could see his shoulders tighten when she would share a particularly tasteless thing Tamlin said. They tended to stay out of each others’ ways, so sometimes it was easy to forget how much animosity existed between the two of them. She finished the entire story, and decided to wrap up everything in a brief summary.

”So yeah, according to Lucien and Tamlin, you and I are hiding a super secret little office affair. But apparently we’re really bad at it, because everyone knows.” She let out a long breath she wasn’t aware she had been holding. His response was swift.

“Well, that’s fucking ridiculous.” He stated, so matter of fact. “Go back to that one really quick— if you don’t mind.” His eyes never left the screen. All business, all of a sudden.

Okay. Now, his indifference stung. She thought she knew Rhysand well enough that he would cushion the blow better than this if he were totally shooting her down. She didn’t like how detached he was, and come to think of it, it’s not like she had offered herself to him anyway. For all he knew, she could find the idea of them dating totally repulsive.

“You could do a lot worse for yourself, you know,” she said, anger bubbling to the service. She saw his head snap toward her, but she refused to look at him.

”What?”

”I know you could walk out of this office and take your pick, but you could do worse for yourself than me. It can’t be that ‘fucking ridiculous’.” She clenched her jaw to force herself to stop talking and breathe.

He sat there looking at her, his attention to the project entirely derailed.

“Feyre...” he started.

”It’s late. I’ll finish looking at this tomorrow. Could you save the changes and upload to the cloud? I think I can make quick work of it.”

”Would you look at me, please?”

She let go of the computer mouse and covered her face with both hands. She rubbed her face roughly as she spoke.

“I’m just tired, Rhysand. I didn’t mean to snap at you. Just forget I said anything. Really, I’m okay.” She didn’t want to see the pity in his face or listen to any explanations. She just needed to get out of there.

She felt one of his hands grip softly around the wrist closest to him as he turned the chair to get her to face him. She kept her face covered, leaning forward, and he had the nerve to laugh softly at her.

“You are such a stubborn, difficult woman sometimes, Feyre Darling.” He gripped her other wrist with his free hand and pulled her hands away from her face. She was too tired to fight him on it, so she let him. She fixed her gaze on his thighs, not entirely prepared for what his expression would show.

“Please look at me,” he whispered. She melted at the tone of his voice, imploring her to make eye contact, and raised her eyes to meet his.

He rubbed slow circles on the sensitive underside of her wrists as he spoke. “In no way, is the idea of me being with you ridiculous. What is so ridiculous to me, Darling, is the idea that I could ever be with you and delude myself into thinking I could keep it a secret,” he murmured, the sincerity in his expression overwhelming her. She saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, readying himself to finish. “Cauldron, Feyre. If you ever let me love you... I wouldn’t have it in me to contain it.”

She was frozen in her chair, in total disbelief. Once she finally regained control of herself, she reached her hand up to smooth his hair back into place. His eyes fluttered shut at the contact.

“That piece of hair has been driving me insane all day long,” she whispered. She was closer now, so much closer to him than she had ever been. She dropped her hand back to her lap to find his again.

His eyes popped open, traveling across her face and landing on her full lips. She watched his tongue dart out of his mouth slightly to wet his own before she regained eye contact. She leaned forward a little more, his hand coming up to brush her hair behind her ear. He cupped her face, running his thumb across her cheek.

“Feyre?” It was barely a whisper, but it was everything.

She subtly nodded her head, and his lips were on hers. He was slow, near reverent as he kissed her, and she leaned in to him, craving more contact. He slid his hand a little farther back so that his fingers could find their home in her hair, just behind her ear. She braced her hand on his forearm, and he pulled her face into his, only slightly, to deepen the kiss.

She let out a quiet whimper as Rhys angled himself to better capture her mouth, and just like that, she was gone. She no longer registered that they were in Rhys’ office or that his door was still open from when she arrived. As far as she was concerned, the world began and ended with them.

They both missed the quick footsteps as Lucien passed by on his way back to his desk from a meeting. They were entirely unaware of his halt as he realized what he’d witnessed and his prompt back peddling. It was when they heard his quiet rasp that they startled, breaking apart only millimeters.

”I fucking knew it!” he whisper-screamed, obviously pleased with himself.

True to Rhysand’s nature, he seemed totally unfazed by Lucien’s discovering them. He brushed his nose over Feyre’s, a grin spreading across his beautiful face.

”Fuck off, Lucien,” he crooned playfully.

His mouth was on hers yet again, neither of them noticing the soft click of the door as Lucien backed out of the office.

——————————————————————————

Just a bit of Feysand fluff for y’all! Feel free to keep the prompts coming, and let me know if you have a particular pairing or mood in mind ☺️

If you’d like to be added to my tag list, you can comment, shoot me an ask, or reblog! I’ll be happy to add you!

Tags (Masterlist):

@polireader // @justgiu12 // @hizqueen4life // @sis-it-dont-add-up // @b00kworm // @bookstantrash // @gisellefigue08​ // @maastrash​

#feysand #feysand au #feysand fluff #acotar #acowar #acomaf #sjm #feysand fanfic

[vateacancameos]

I Won't Let You Let Me Down So Easily

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Fandom: The Locked Tomb Trilogy Pairing: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus Tags: Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Post-Gideon the Ninth, Post-Harrow the Ninth, Pre-Slash, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, they're working on the lovers part, POV Gideon Nav, Gideon watches Harrow Word Count: 1804 Part 2 of the Watching series (read Part 1 here)

For all of her short years of life, Gideon Nav has never wanted anything more than to ignore the Reverend Daughter of the Ninth House. To pretend she doesn’t exist. Unfortunately for Gideon—and the entirety of the Ninth—Harrowhark Nonagesimus has made that impossible from day one. She’s always there, one step away from Gideon, not looking at her, but making her own presence known, making sure she’s seen. That shrill, commanding tone is there from the moment she says her first word. Bones follow her every command, and she’s a tiny tyrant in black and wearing a painted mask. Where she is, skeletons follow, and Gideon is left behind, bloodied and beaten on the floor.

She never asked for this. She’s never wanted to be the bane of everyone’s existence. In fact, she tries her hardest to get away, time and time and time and time again. But Harrow demands an audience, and with most of the House being blinded from old age, Gideon is the one forced to watch. So she watches. Mostly, she watches her back, but over time, she watches just to see. What she’s looking for, she’s not sure.

She’s never wanted this, so why does a part of her now ask for it?

*** 

 (read the rest under the cut)

***

Somehow Gideon isn’t surprised that even in the afterlife, she’s forced to watch Harrow. The Dark Mistress of Drearburh is a necromancer after all. If Gideon couldn’t get away from her during any of her eighty-seven escape attempts in life, it’s doubtful a little something like lacking a body would stop Harrow from forcing her to stay.

The really annoying part is that this time, Gideon actually does want to watch, but she’s got less a front-row seat and more like she’s using binoculars turned backwards so the thing she’s looking at is tiny and the lenses are smudged and she’s got cotton stuffed in her ears. She’s grateful for that when Ianthe tries her hand (haha, hand) at flirting with Harrow—she’s never felt such intense second-hand embarrassment in her life—but seeing what’s happening on The Mithraeum would be rather helpful right now.

Especially considering she isn’t allowed to do her job (protecting) thanks to one pointy-faced emo chick performing an at-home lobotomy with only a sociopathic princess to watch over her. Oh yeah, pre-surgery, Gideon could watch everything just fine. Why is it always that she’s forced to watch when she doesn’t want to, and she can’t watch when she does want to? She’s more than a little ticked by that.

No one ever asks her what she wants.

***

You know what’s really fucking annoying? Dying for your best frenemy so she can become the thing she’s wanted to become since she was four, then getting not only walled up in a tiny corner of Prissy McBitchFace’s brain, not only forced to see how awkward God is during tea time, not only stuck watching Harrow fumble her training and social interaction, but ALSO, unable to make her fucking necromancer work out or learn one single thing about a sword.

IT’S A FUCKING POMMEL, HARROWHARK. You can learn all the bones of the body by age two and a half, but you can’t learn the very few parts of a fucking sword? Sigh.

She’s being willfully ignorant on purpose. Gideon knows it.

***

You know what’s really fucking sad? Watching Harrowhark unable to function. Not just in her usual disconnected with reality and living in her special world where she’s the queen and everyone bows to her way. No, Harrow is … not Harrow. She’s barely human now (not that she was ever particularly human, more like a pointy, annoying bat), she’s paranoid (granted, someone is trying to kill her on the daily), she’s not sleeping, there are more wards in her tiny room than in all of the Ninth House, and she’s trying to … make soup?

It’s embarrassing to watch, and once again, Gideon is grateful her view is fuzzy and distant. Except that since she only gets a far-off snapshot of events a few times a day, she has lots of time to think and contemplate. And the more she thinks about it, the worse she feels. It’s sad, Harrow’s life is. And not in a oh she’s such a dork, how sad way, but more in a way that hurts Gideon’s heart, if Gideon had a heart still, which she guesses she doesn’t, not properly.

But still, she aches for Harrow. She wants to do her job, to be the big bad protector, but someone decided to be a selfish jerk and not let Gideon do the one thing she literally died to do.

Some people suck.

***

Swear to John (who’d’ve thought God’s name would be John), Gideon is really fucking tired of watching. At least when she was forced to watch Harrow in the past(life), she had a sword in her hands and a cocky smile on her face. Oh, what she’d give to go back to being able to watch and do, rather than watch and … watch, but not really watch, because time moves funny for her and it sounds like everyone is talking under water and faces are distorted (oh, no, wait, Ianthe’s face is always like that, nm).

She needs to be able to do again. She needs to force her dumb necromancer to get some sleep and then some exercise and then some brain surgery, in that order (what? squats are important). And then maybe learn the parts of the sword. SERIOUSLY, HARROW, HOW HARD IS POMMEL?

She wishes she had Harrow’s dumb army of constructs to fight. Even without a body, she has excess energy to get rid of and– HOLY SHIT. A CONSTRUCT JUST BURST OUT OF THE SKINNY/BUFF LYCTOR’S abdomen.

Okay, Harrow. You win this round.

***

Sleep does not help Harrowhark’s mood. She’s less of a zombie, sure, but she’s still a bit bananas. Watching her cut off Ianthe’s arm is pretty great, though (less great is watching her climb on top of Princess Bitch to do it). And the sex thing with God and two of the saints is … well, the jury is still out on that one. She actually got quite an eyeful of that scene. Perhaps all the wine allowed Gideon more freedom to move about in her necro’s brain.

None of that shocks her like watching Harrow save the lyctor whose been out to kill her for months. Gideon would definitely save him if she were in Harrow’s shoes (except she’d never be in those shoes because, one, they’re too small for her, and two, SHE KNOWS HOW TO USE A FUCKING SWORD). But even after everything that happened at Canaan House, and all that she’s seen of the disaster that is Harrow’s current life, watching Harrow save the man she’s absolutely bloody terrified of is … staggering.

Gideon’s not sure what to do with this information. Harrow with a normal human conscious is not something she thought she’d ever see. It’s not the Harrow she knew for seventeen years. It’s not the girl she fought tooth and nail with almost all of her life. It’s not the tiny mad genius who broke into the Tomb just to say she could. It’s not the tyrant who puppeteered her dead parents’ bodies for seven years for a power trip. It’s not the necromancer who longed for nothing more than to become a lyctor, even at every other person around hers expense.

It’s not the bone magician who performed possibly deadly surgery on her own brain rather than share soul space with the woman who died for her.

And if Harrow’s actions now say she’s not those things, then what else doesn’t Gideon know about her?

***

For once, Gideon is the watchee instead of the watcher.

Leave it to Sextus to be the one to see her.

***

Gideon takes it all back. She’d rather spend a myriad watching helplessly and foggily as her necromancer bumbles through life because she refuses to accept help in becoming a real lyctor. She’d love to go back to watching her make soup and avoid kisses with Tridentarius The Lesser and grimace at tea and cut her hair every three days and fuck up Gideon’s beloved two-hander by covering it in bone glue.

Because the alternative, of Harrow just up and leaving her body, which has just come to pass, is untenable. It’s wrong. Not just Gideon’s eyes and her WTF expression on Harrow’s face, but also the pure lack of Harrow in the room. For such a tiny little witch, she takes up a lot of space. She always has. It’s why Gideon had watched her their whole lives. Harrow would enter a room, and her presence would draw Gideon like a paperclip to a magnet. It was hateful, but it was comfortable, a known entity.

But Harrow being gone is so wrong.

Luckily, there are plenty of bug-human-acid-monster things that hold her attention for a time. That, and trying to figure out how to work Harrow’s limp noodle arms so that she can use a sword that weighs about the same as she currently does. As Gideon hacks and kicks and watches Harrow’s extremities regrow (trippy), she avoids thinking about why Harrow has left her. She fights Princess Peach and avoids thinking. She bickers (and maybe falls just a tiny bit in love) with Ianthe Tridentarius and avoids thinking. She listens to confessions twenty years in coming and avoids thinking. She finds her (very fucked up) family and avoids thinking. She (maybe?) befriends the lyctor who tried for nine months to kill her necromancer (except its actually not the lyctor anymore and she’s definitely going to have to learn more about that at some point when she’s no longer fighting for her [lyctor’s] life) and avoids thinking.

She’s going to have to think again at some point, but she’ll avoid it as long as she’s able.

***

When Gideon finally escapes and gets somewhere safe, she has time to watch again, and she hates it. She watches Harrow’s face in the mirror. She wills her necromancer to come back. She begs Harrow to come back. She paints the best skull she’s ever painted on Harrow’s face. She puts on the rust-black robes. She stares at the mirror and tries to find Harrow in the frown lines and pointy chin. But she’s not there, and it looks wrong. Gideon screams and punches the mirror. The broken flesh repairs instantly. She hates that. She needs the pain the last.

She has always associated pain with Harrow. The physical pain of their fights. The emotional pain of being unloved. If the pain is no longer there, does that mean Harrow is gone for good?

Gideon Nav’s eyes sting, and she watches the paint melt off Harrow’s face.

#locked tomb trilogy #fanfic #meagan writes #griddlehark #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth

[writevswrong]

Hi friends!

I wanted to share with you my newly named Nessian fanfic, A Court of Magnolias and Ash (ACOMAA). 

And yes, I did paint this cover digitally :)

All of my fics will be uploaded to Wattpad moving forward.  

Some fun news! 

1) Epilogue for A Court of Magnolias and Ash is releasing this Saturday! Yay! It will be released on my Wattpad account: LJLaFleur

I will do a separate post on Saturday with the link :)

Please note that each chapter of this fiction was written, edited and posted within a week. Yeah, that was insane. I’ve tried to go back and edit a little further because it needed some help. The plot has stayed the same, just some minor changes in structure. 

2) The Shadows of Spring, a gut wrenching tale of Azriel, Lucien and Elain. This is currently in the works with my mermate, Hannah. It should be released the beginning of next year--hopefully! Cover reveal coming soon. 

3) When the Last Ember Falls, a lovely fic for my beautiful miscreant, Eris. I have just finished the outline and will begin writing as soon as possible. This takes place after ACOMAA. To not give too much away, it’s the aftermath of a fallen court and what happens next for him. Cover reveal coming soon.

4) Untitled Ronan fic. Ronan is my own character I created for the ACOMAA fic. This is focused on his life before, with and after Nesta. Not to mention, her POV of her time in the cauldron with the God of Death. Title to be announced soon.

5) Untitled Amren fic. This one is super short (what? short? an actual short story? get out of here!), I’m trying my hardest to keep em short and sweet people. This goes back to her first time entering Prythian and who she encounters in this new world. Title to be announced soon.

6) Untitled Andras fic. Andras (the wolfman Feyre killed), his short and tragic story. Title to be announced soon.

7) Untitled collection of short stories. A collection of short stories of all our bad ladies and men in Prythian. This includes stories of Amarantha, Tamlin, Ianthe, Kier, Beron, etc. Title to be announced soon.

#a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of dreams #a court of nightmares #a court of wings and ruin #feyre #feyre archeron #Feysand #feyre x rhysand #rhys #rhysand #cassian #nesta #nesta archeron #nessian #nessian fanfic #nessian smut #nessian fanfiction #Elain #elain archeron #Azriel #Morrigan #mor #amren #tamlin #Eris #ronan #sarah j maas #fanfic #fanfiction

[deviantstormtrooper]

Music part seven

Previous part: https://ravenshadowrose.tumblr.com/post/169745862780/music-part-six

Ianthe satisfied herself that the medical bay had been left scrupulously clean for the staff that covered the night shift. She liked to make sure that everything was in order for the people who covered the medical needs of Starkiller Base at night. She knew from experience that illness and injury could strike at any hour of the day or night, especially at the present time.

A run of illness was making its way through the new stormtrooper recruits, one that made them have high temperatures and throw up a lot. The illness had kept her staff busy all day. Ianthe sighed and ran her hand over her face, it had kept her busy too. She had spent most of the day running between patients, it had left her with little time to rest or eat. Ianthe yawned, she was definitely ready to fall into her bed and sleep. She took one final look around the room and headed towards her quarters for some much needed rest.

Movement near her door snapped Ianthe into alertness, she approached warily as the face of the person was hidden by the dimly lit corridor. A few steps brought her closer to the figure. She realised they were kneeling on the floor and hunched over as if they were in pain. Another couple of steps and she realised that it was Kylo who was on the floor in front of her quarters.

“Kylo,” she said quietly to avoid startling him.

He raised his head and Ianthe noted that his eyes were filled with pain. It was obvious that he was hurt, she wasn't sure where he was hurt though. She avoided touching him, the last thing she wanted to do was to make his pain worse.

“Can you stand up if I help you?”

Kylo gave the merest hint of a nod and she steadied him as he slowly stood up. Ianthe heard Kylo whimper quietly as he moved. It was obvious to her that Snoke had physically punished Kylo and he was suffering greatly. He leaned against her as if he could not support his own weight, she was grateful that she was strong enough to hold him up. She felt him trembling from the effort to try and keep himself upright. She wondered how often Snoke had punished Kylo to the point he could barely stand up.

Ianthe supported Kylo as she punched in the code to the door and helped him through it when it opened. The lights came on in the room as they entered and she locked the door behind them. She helped Kylo over to the bed and sat him down on it, she needed to know the extent of his injuries. She quickly went to the cupboard on the other side of the room and took out the medical kit she kept in there for emergencies.

Kylo's eyes were dull, it was obvious to Ianthe that he was in a lot of pain. She pulled on a pair of examination gloves and softly spoke to Kylo.

“Kylo, I need to examine you and find out where you are hurt. I will not do anything without your permission, okay?”

He slowly nodded his head and Ianthe ran her hands over the back of his head and down his neck and back. She felt nothing out of the ordinary so she gently lifted Kylo's head and looked at his face. He had some bruising to his cheek and a small wound at his hairline. His bottom lip had been split, but it had stopped bleeding by itself. She gently applied a bacta patch to the wound on Kylo's head to aid the healing process. She shone a light into his eyes and she was relieved when his pupils reacted to it.

Ianthe hesitated, she needed Kylo to take off his tunic to get a proper look at him, she wondered if he would be uncomfortable being undressed in front of her.

“Kylo, to properly examine you, I need you to take off your tunic.”

She noticed him tense up but his hands moved to the belt and he took it off. She carefully put his lightsaber on the bedside table. He tried to take the tunic off and hissed in pain. Ianthe slowly helped him to take the tunic off and she dropped it to the floor. She almost gasped when she noticed the extensive bruising to Kylo's chest and stomach, he had taken quite a beating. Her eyes filled with tears, no wonder he was in pain. There were plenty of old scars, it was obvious to her that this was not the first time he had been beaten.

Her eyes moved to his arms, there were burns on the outer edge of them, obviously defensive. Someone had attacked him with something that had burned his skin. She carefully applied a burn salve to each of the burns on Kylo's arms. She heard him sigh in relief as the salve cooled and soothed the damaged skin.

Ianthe removed Kylo's boots and she put them out of the way. Her hands moved up his lower legs, she felt nothing out of the ordinary. She met Kylo's eyes, he was watching her as she treated him. The dullness in them was still there from the pain, she would deal with that once she knew the extent of his injuries. Her hands gently examined his thighs, nothing seemed to be broken.

From the way Kylo did not react as she examined his legs, she concluded that most of his injuries were to his upper body.

She took the syringe from the case inside her medical kit and pulled the plunger back to the dose she would need. She carefully inserted the needle into the rubber top and pushed the air into the vial. She slowly filled the syringe with the pain killer and then tapped it to check for any air bubbles. She picked up an alcohol wipe and walked over to Kylo.

“Kylo,” she said. “I have some pain relief for you.”

“No,” his voice shook as he spoke.

“Pain relief will help you to sleep and your body to recover.”

“No, it makes me weak.”

“Needing pain relief does not makes you weak, it means you are human.”

Ianthe felt Kylo's gaze on her, it was as if he was trying to work out if she was telling the truth or not. She kept her eyes on his as he stared at her. Kylo eventually nodded and she sat next to him, wiping his arm with the alcohol wipe.

“Okay, you will feel a sharp scratch.”

Ianthe carefully administered the pain killer into Kylo's arm and removed the needle. She put the needle into the sharps box she kept in the kit. She placed her gloves and used equipment into the bin in the corner of the room. When she was done, she turned to face Kylo.

“You can stay here for the night, if you want. The medicine I have just given you will make you a little sleepy, so it is probably safer if you do.”

Kylo nodded and slowly stood up, he climbed into her bed and it amazed her how small he made it look. She went to the drawer and picked out a set of nightclothes for herself, Kylo watching her every move.

“I'll stay in the medical bay for the night, if you need me then press the button at the side of the bed. It will send an alert to the medical bay and I'll come to see you.”

“No, stay, please.”

It was the please that caught Ianthe's attention, it made him sound like a scared little boy. She nodded and went into the refresher. She quickly got changed into her nightclothes, washed her face and brushed her teeth. Once she was done she turned out the light and went back into the bedroom.

Kylo was now lay on his back in her bed, the pain relief she had given him should have started to work by now. She turned out the light and carefully climbed into her bed to avoid hurting Kylo. Ianthe lay in the dark until she suddenly felt Kylo move, his head sliding to just underneath her neck. His arm slid across her waist and she felt him take a few shuddering breaths. Ianthe stayed still, Kylo obviously needed the comfort of being near someone.

A few heartbeats of quiet passed and Ianthe felt warm tears drop onto her skin. Kylo took a few more shuddering breaths as he cried. He was trying his hardest to stay silent, but quiet crying noises escaped him every so often. Ianthe wrapped her arms around Kylo and she gently stroked his hair as he cried in her arms.

Ianthe held Kylo until his tears slowed and eventually stopped, she kept on stroking his hair to comfort him. It was obvious to her that whatever punishment he had experienced at Snoke's hands had exhausted Kylo, physically and emotionally. It would be many days before he would be able to move around freely and without pain. She carried on stroking Kylo's hair as his breathing began to settle down and he slipped into sleep.

“Thank you, Ianthe,” he murmured quietly.

Ianthe smiled, it was the first time he had spoken her name. She hoped Kylo would sleep soundly and get the rest that he so desperately needed. She watched Kylo for a few more minutes to make sure he was asleep and then closed her eyes, she too needed rest and sleep.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x oc #fluff #injured kylo #Music

[royreadingco]

Book Review #3: A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas

Welcome back to Roy Reading Company! Today, I'm very excited to be reviewing the second book in the "A Court of Thorns and Roses" Trilogy, A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas. This book was dense, a whopping 626 pages, but 626 pages of pure magic. If you read my review of A Court of Thorns and Roses, you'll know how blown away I was by book 1, but book 2 was even better!

*Warning: This review contains spoilers. Read at your own risk.*Right off the bat, what stood out to me about this book was the realistic depiction of emotions. The guilt and shame that Feyre felt was so described in such a realistic way, you could actually relate to her. The way Maas described Feyre's struggles, it almost seemed as if she was going suffering from PTSD, which wouldn't be surprising considering what she went through Under the Mountain. The physical symptoms, like her vomiting and intense nightmares, as well as her mental ones like her lack of interest in things like painting, suggest the degree to which her time Under the Mountain effected her. I felt that Maas did a really lovely job of making these symptoms true to life, and in an age where mental health awareness is super important, it was great to see Feyre work through these struggles. 

At the beginning/middle of the book, I found myself getting a little frustrated with Feyre in regards to Tamlin. Yes, Tamlin was not helpful at all in helping Feyre heal and recover. Terrible of him, that much is obvious. But while Feyre was in Night Court she seemed to only focus on how awful Tamlin was, and completely forget about all of the good times they had together and how much she loved him at one point. Sure, he may have been going through his own struggles, but they could have worked together to make each other better. But by the end of the book her hating Tamlin was totally justified. 

First of all, can we talk about how he only used her for sex? Props to Maas for actually including sex in a YA book, and it was impactful. Tamlin acted like he really only cared about having sex with Feyre, not helping her get better. Contrast this with Rhys, who was totally willing to wait for Feyre to be ready, and we have a pretty important message. Maas contrasts Tamlin and Rhys, to show that there's a difference between being in love and making love. He clearly didn't care about her enough to see that she was literally withering away in front of him, and didn't try to help her at all. Also, why did you not realize and accept that she was developing powers? Tam, you could have helped her hone her skills and become a more powerful fae. But know let's lock her in my mansion, right? WHICH REMINDS ME: How DARE you lock her in that house?! Who in the mother do you think you are? It's clear that he was so wrapped up in his issues and trying to protect her that he just lost it and turned into an oppressive maniac. He also tells her that there's no such thing as a High Lady, so she can't be seen as his equal. Utter. Crap. I think what hits me hardest is his history with Rhys and how he helped his father hunt down members of Rhys's family. Just scummy. 

Let's also talk about this wedding. That dress was horrible. It didn't even seem like Feyre cared about the wedding at all, she wasn't invested in the planning and didn't care enough to object when things bothered her. It was destined to fail from the start. Ianthe had wayyy too much control in the planning of this wedding, and made it something Feyre utterly didn't care about. I would have walked away too. 

Ianthe. The utter wraith that she is. Though I hated her guts, I can see her importance to the story. She was integral in Feyre's rise to power later in the series. But she is also really important in spreading a message about consent. Ianthe was notorious for taking advantage of people like Rhys and Lucien, and Maas uses her to show that consent is important. 

Now let's talk about Feyre's time with Rhys. When he first winnowed her away to Night Court, and let her heal, I knew he wasn't so bad of a guy. And when he did save her from Tamlin's insanity, I saw right away that he actually cared about her, despite his teasing and taunting. But even with his teasing, it opened opportunities for Feyre to be her spitfire-self again. I liked that he started by helping her learn how to read, and how to protect her mind, skills that would be vital to her. I did wonder that while Feyre was in Night Court, why did Tam never try to get in contact with her? He must have had some inkling. 

But I was really glad he didn't because I fell in love with Velaris, Rhys, Mor, Az, and Cassian. Mor, Az, and Cassian were way more open and honest with her from the beginning and actually offered to help her train and befriended her outright. Lucien wasn't necessarily a bad guy, but he never stood up to Tam's mistreatment of Feyre. The people of Velaris all made a conscious effort to make Feyre feel welcome and to help her feel better. I thought one of the especially touching scenes was when they were training with Cassian, and it dawns on her that she should have been one of the Fae to die in Amarantha's court, and Cassian helped talk through her emotions while Rhys reacted so strongly, and so kindly and telling her that she should never feel that way. It was evident that Velaris was a much healthier environment for her to live. 

While she was there she not only healed from her experiences Under the Mountain but was also able to grow into her new life as a Fae. She was able to be an active and useful member of Rhys's team and was able to help infiltrate Hybern's forces. 

I've spoken so much about Maas's world building, but I have to touch on her creation of the Illyrian culture. The customs and traditions that she developed were so interesting. To learn with Feyre about a whole other species was really interesting. From hearing about how they are raised and trained from an early age, to the treatment of their women was fascinating and really set Night Court apart from the other courts. Along the same vein, it was both heartbreaking and emotional to learn about Mor's past in the Illyrian legions. It helped me feel more sympathetic towards her and relate to her even more. 

I really liked that we got to go into Summer Court and Adriana. I am really intrigued by exploring the other courts and seeing their different cultures come to life is one of my favorite parts of this series. Paired with Feyre being able to tap into Tarquin's powers to help Rhys was really one of the first instances of Feyre actively helping to take down Hybern. 

I really loved the idea of a hidden city of Velaris, that no one knew about for hundreds of years. I loved that it was a sort of paradise or Eden hidden away from all of the horrors going on in the rest of Prythian. The word Velaris actually comes from the Latin verb to cover or to veil. I love significant word choice in books. The desctiption of this city was lovely, and the detail was phenomenal, and really brought the city to life. What was also really lovely, was how important Velaris was to Rhys and his family, how they wanted to hold onto their piece of private paradise to escape to. 

And now for the good stuff. 

Rhys and Feyre were a match made in heaven (literally). I thought for a long time that I would never want Feyre to be with anyone other than Tam, and boy was I wrong. From the moment he rescued her, to the teasing little notes that they sent each other, they were perfect. When he sent her into the Weaver's cottage to get the ring was such a sweet idea, and how it all tied into his family and their mating was so well done. Even their scenes in the Court of Nightmares and that little Illyrian inn were some of my favorites in this book. 

But what takes the cake, without any doubt, has to be the cabin scene. But first, why in the holy hell did the Suriel spoil the mate thing? If he knows ~most~ things, wouldn't he know that Feyre didn't know yet? So why would he spoil it? I'm glad he did because cute things happened. I can also understand Feyre's frustration with people waiting until they thought she was ready to hear the news, when she was so involved. But I wanted her to be a little more happy about it and not just be mad at him. I thought it was fitting that she just took some time for herself to be alone, to paint, and process everything. I also liked that he chased after her and made sure she was okay (something Tam never did). I (as I love the different culture and tradition) thought it was so sweet that offering him a meal is the signal that the mate bond has been accepted. 

Maas really showed her finesse as a writer, when all of the little instances that had taken place over time had connected and entwined to build their mate bond from the moment they met. To create such an intricate plot, that was so well executed is inspiring and that is how a true, sophisticated novel is written. The fact that Rhys was the one to send the lullaby to Feyre's cell under the Mountain took me by surprise because I had assumed that it was thanks to Tam. The whole mate relationship between Rhys and Feyre was so spectacularly done, I was blown away. Overall I could not be more satisfied with the way Maas portrayed the mate bond between Rhys and Feyre. 

Some final thoughts. In the end of the novel, I have one thing to say. TAMLIN YOU SUCK YOU PIECE OF SLIME. That is all. The mortal queens give humans a bad rep. What is Amren really? The significance of Rhys's knee tattoo was amazing. The slight undertones to the Hades and Persephone story were super cool, and I love Maas showed her literary prowess in basing her original stories on classic tales. 

In summary, I apologize that this review is so long but for such a lengthy book, how could I not? It would be an injustice to the book to leave anything out. I felt that this book was phenomenal, extremely well done and showed how sophisticated Young Adult literature can be. 

I give this book a 📚📚📚📚📚 out of 5. I would highly recommend this book to any YA lover, and it might have made the series for me. What did you think of A Court of Mist and Fury? Let me know in the comments!

If you enjoyed this please subscribe to get email updates for new blog posts! And feel free to follow our instagram and tumblr both can be found at @royreadingco If you have any suggestions for books you think I should read or bookish products I should try please leave a comment below or shoot me an email at [email protected]! Thanks for reading along with me! Happy reading! 

-

Kayla

#acomaf #a court of mist and fury #feyre x rhysand #feyre archeron #rhys #night court #sarah j maas #YA #High Lady of the night court #books #bookworm #bookish #book review #book blog #booktube #book tumblr

[birdiethebibliophile]

For the fic prompt thing - okay, this may sound veeery specific but...Feyre and Rhys helping Lucien to heal and defending him from Tamlin's manipulative influence? I don't know the contest or anything but HOW cute

Bless your soul for this prompt. I always love writing about my ginger child. (This… got a bit out of hand.)

Found on AO3 here!

————-

“Oh, like you’ve never –”

Feyre, two floors above and distracted by the noteshe’s writing to Rhys, still flinches at the snarl that cuts Lucien off. Tamlintakes issue with others mouthing off to him as much as any High Fae, and Lucienhas been very mouthy indeed of late.

It’s been three months. Three months of planningand plotting. Three months of pretending to shudder at the very mention of hermate’s name. Three months of simpering and placing her lips on Tamlin’s cheekwhen needed and resisting the urge to disembowel him.

A lot has changed in three months. Cassian’salmost completely recovered, though he isn’t flying yet, and it’s doubtfulwhether he ever will; Elain’s started a garden of moonlace and jasmine on theroof of Rhys’s home in Velaris; Azriel and Mor are evidently, in Rhys’s words,“a thing.”

And Lucien…

Feyre isn’t sure whether it was her return thattriggered the change, or the discovery of his mate, or maybe even thebanishment of Ianthe, but something like a flame – bright and vibrant as hishair – has been rekindled in Lucien. She hadn’t realized it was gone until itwas back. His eye no longer dulls, sweeps over her in hopeless despair. Shecatches him absentmindedly humming snatches of a folk tune, or playing a fewtentative keys on the pianoforte, or braiding flowers into his hair. (Shewonders how much he notices the mating bond; the flowers in question lookremarkably similar to the ones Rhys describes Elain coaxing out of his roof.)

Of course, along with these changes comes a revivalin Lucien’s quick tongue and sharp wit. She remembers it from her early days inthe Spring Court, when it was directed at her.

Lucien, she thinks, has a knack for using it onexactly the people who will react the worst.

Just as her note disappears, Lucien storms intothe room, slams the door behind him, and flings himself onto the couch. “Thatbastard is getting on my last nerve,” he growls.

Feyre shoots him a warning look. “Lucien –”

He waves a weary hand. “He’s out. Don’t knowwhere. Meeting with Ianthe, for all I know. But not before…” The hand drops,and he rubs slightly at the blossoming bruise over his cheekbone.

Feyre hesitates, troubled. Lucien’s beeninvaluable in the past two months. He snapped a month after the Hybern fiasco,pushed back against Tamlin like he hadn’t since Under the Mountain. Afterwards,Feyre (still a bit reluctantly) tended his wounds as he muttered bitter wordsabout what he wished he could do to change – all this, he said, change allthis, everything he’s done.

She’d promised Rhys that she didn’t trust anyoneat the Spring Court, but the genuine pain in Lucien’s face, the whirring of hisgolden eye as he made sure Tamlin hadn’t damaged it, cracked her composure. Shetold him. Not everything – not their plans, not details about the Inner Circle– but enough that she saw shock, then suspicion, then finally hope light hisface. She explained about Rhys, what he was really like, why she was in lovewith him. Before Hybern, Lucien would’ve refused to believe it. Afterwards, he couldn’tignore it.

“Mouthing off to him isn’t going to solveanything,” Feyre says, but her heart isn’t in it. She’s so relieved by thereturn of Lucien’s silver tongue that she would write a play just to hear himsnark his way through the lines.

“I know, I know.” He lets out a frustrated sigh.“How do you do it? Just – keep quiet when he gets like this?” Feyre gives him alook. “All right, any time he opens his mouth?”

As she’s about to answer, Rhys’s response appearsin midair and drops into her hand. “Like this,” she says, waving the page atLucien. “Someone to talk to.” She feels a pang of unexpected sympathy. Sheknows Lucien wishes with all his heart that he could talk to Elain like shetalks to Rhys, but that’s just not possible.

Lucien rubs his eyes. He looks tired. Not tiredthe way he did before – not hopeless – just bone-weary. “Maybe I should startwriting to him, if he’s that pleasant of a correspondent.”

Feyre laughs again, but it isn’t as genuine asbefore. Since they allied, Lucien’s been taking the brunt of Tamlin’soutbursts. He doesn’t have daemati powers, and Feyre can’t always be with himto soothe Tamlin’s fury, tweak his thoughts. And that isn’t even taking intoaccount the pain of being without his mate and the aftereffects of the monthsbetween Under the Mountain and Hybern. Lucien’s spirit is unquenched, butconstant stress erodes even the hardest of hearts. And, Feyre thinks, thatwould not quite be the word to describe Lucien’s heart. It’s softer – likegold, perhaps:  resilient and invaluable,but able to be marked even by the slightest pressure.

“Lucien?”

“Hmm?” He glances at her, the note in her hand,and away again.

“If…” Feyre hesitates. “If there was a chance toleave the Spring Court – I’m not saying there will be, but if – would you takeit?”

Lucien’s silent for a moment. His fingers absentlystroke the textured wood of his chair. “Where would I go?” he finally says.“Not to the Autumn Court.”

“What if you could go to the Night Court?” Feyreasks carefully.

Lucien’s eyes snap to her, fingers stilling. Inthe silence, she can hear his golden eye whirring, adjusting and readjusting,seemingly unable to focus on her. “What?”

Feyre almost winces at the rawness in his voice.“You heard me.”

“I would take the chance,” Lucien finally says. “IfI could.”

“I’ll remember that,” Feyre says, her voice quiet.

*************

She’s very nearly too late.

Afterwards, she thinks she should’ve seen itcoming – should’ve seen how fast Tamlin’s sense was deteriorating, should’veseen how vulnerable that left Lucien, the one within the blast range who didn’thave the powers of all seven High Lords.

Feyre hears Lucien’s scream from three floorsaway, and her blood runs cold. She winnows before she thinks about it, steppingthrough the fabric of space towards her friend. She can still hear the echo ofhis cry when the world resolves around her.

“Tam, please – please–”

“You’ve been spying for them!” Tamlin’s voice isall animal snarl, and his claws have burst through his knuckles. “Don’t try todeny it. After everything they did to Feyre – after they took your mate away –”

“You don’t understand, Tam.” Neither of them haveseen Feyre yet, but she can see them. Tamlin has Lucien cornered, and – shefeels a jolt of horror as she realizes that one of Tamlin’s knives, hisIllyrian knives, is embedded in Lucien’s gut. His long, pale fingers areclenched over the steel, scarlet blood welling up between them. “Please, don’tdo this. I’m your friend. I’m still your friend.”

“Liar!” Feyre sees, as if in slow motion, Tamlinpulling an arrow from his quiver and nocking it. Leveling it at Lucien’s heart.

Come. Now.That’s all the warning she’s able to give Rhys before she flings up her hand,and Tamlin’s arrow shatters against her shield.

“Don’t hurt him. Don’t you dare.” Darkness dances over her outstretched fingers, forming intotalons for a moment before dissolving into shadow once more.

Tamlin whirls to face her. “Feyre? What…” Thewords die in his throat.

“Surprise,” Feyre snarls, the heavy wings onlyLucien has seen before settling between her shoulderblades. “Touch him again,and you’ll pay in pain.”

“My, my, Feyre darling…” Unlike the first time heappeared in the Spring Court, there’s no clap of thunder, no lightning flash ofdarkness, that accompanies Rhys’s arrival. Instead, he simply steps to herside, straightening his lapels, his darkness winding into hers like a sweetcaress. “Such manners. And to a High Lord, too. I never would have thought itof you. Oh, wait…” He gives her a wicked grin.

“Prick,” she murmurs affectionately. Thank you for coming so quickly.

Anytime,Feyre. He glances at her, violet eyes soft. I’ll always come to you when you call.

“You –” Tamlin nocks another arrow, but seems notto know who to point it at. “Fuck. Fuck.Get away from her, you bastard.”

“Tam,” Lucien croaks. He’s still bleeding, hisface paling by the second. “Tam, for the Mother’s sake, leave it. You can’t –they’re mates, they’re in love. Let them be.”

“You,”Tamlin snarls again, whipping around to face Lucien, dropping his bow andgrabbing another of his knives, lunging at the red-haired Fae now that Feyre isdistracted –

“Ah, ah, ah…” Rhys winnows between them with asharp crack. “I think little Lucien’s suffered enough, don’t you?” Feyrestares, a smile growing slowly on her face, as Rhys turns around and carefullypulls Lucien to his feet. Then, as Lucien stumbles, his eyelids fluttering,Rhys (not without a small sigh) sweeps the other male into his arms. “Don’tread anything into this,” Feyre hears Rhys murmur to him. “This is the firstand last time this will ever happen.”

“We’ll be leaving now, Tamlin,” Feyre says,striding over to join her mate and her friend. “Next time we see each other…you’d better have chosen the right side. Because if not, it’ll be the last.”

“Is that a threat?” he snaps, hands white-knuckledon his knife.

“No, Tam,” Feyre croons. At her command, thetemperature and light in the room drop, as if the sun has gone out. “It’s a promise.”

Then she places a hand on Rhys’s shoulder, andthey winnow.

#acomaf #mine #fic #lucien #feyre archeron #rhysand #tamlin #acomaf fanfiction #gotta get all of the fic out before the acowar madness next week #amirite

[foreversimmers]

"you aren't pathetic" for gen & jackson pls ;-;

I’m so excited for this ;-; I’m putting it under the read more because it’s  very long :D I hope you like it Ruby! 

Genevive stood motionless in front of the eerily desolate house. The bottom side of her hand thumped along with her heart where she had been pounding on the front door for a good five minutes. His car was in the driveway, she knew he was home. And she knew that he heard her knocking. He was stuffed away in that old stale room of theirs, drifting further and further away from reality. She hadn’t seen him in a long time. Only a handful since the funeral. Mostly just in passing. Her and Ianthe had taken care of the kids a couple of times, so they would see him for a few seconds then, but he would excuse himself and run back to the old room. They had come over to clean the house for him and Jess, and make dinner for them all a couple of times too. It was always the same. A new excuse and a dash away from the ones who cared. Well, she was fed up. She knew he was breaking inside. No, she knew he was broken inside since the moment he found out Anna had passed. She realized that and she was sympathetic with him for it too, but she also knew that if things didn’t change, they weren’t just going to lose Anna, if they hadn’t already lost him yet. She cupped her hand over her eyes and peered into the house, hoping to get some glimpse of Jackson, but all she saw was darkness. Shadows casted along the dark hallway and emerged from the windows and every room she could see. It wasn’t like that when she was still here. Anna was the light inside the house, and without her, it was a lot of this, emptiness and darkness. 

Gen gave the large door another good couple of thumps, wondering if maybe she should start yelling. She just knew that if she started, there was no chance in her stopping. It was hard. One of the hardest things she’s ever had to do. Not only did she feel herself like she let Anna down, but now she was letting her best friend wither away in that stupid room of theirs, and he wasn’t making it easy. His name on the tip of her tongue, the door swung open, startling her backwards. She had to keep herself from gasping as she saw him. His hair was much shaggier now than in recent years. And his beard took up his whole lower jaw. If circumstances were different, it could almost look good on him. Only, his eyes, before had been filled with light and joy and laughter, all things Anna brought into his life, but now were dark, tired, and dead. Black circles surrounded his sunken in eyes, and his smile was nonexistent at this point. Gen wanted to hug him. And punch him for doing this to himself. But mainly hug him. Instead, she mustered up a smile, and let herself into the house. 

 "Nice of you to finally show your face,“ She tried to lighten the mood, but it fell short between them. ”The place looks better. Since we saw it last. Jess is doing good? The kids?“ She asked, trying to nudge the answers from him. Jackson shrugged. ”Listen, why don’t you put the kettle on, hmm? We need to talk.“

With a steaming hot cup of tea between them, Genevive and Jackson sipped at their mugs, looking off in their own directions at nothing in particular. Gen tapped absently on the side of her ceramic cup to the rhythm of a show tune Ianthe had been humming that morning. She looked around the kitchen and saw just how much it hadn’t change. They hadn’t taken down any of Anna’s personal touches and all her little knickknacks. It was all very much her. This made Gen smile into her chamomile. It was almost like she was still here when she saw the place. But then she turned to look at Jackson, and it was back to reality. She wasn’t. And that’s why they were here. Jackson finally let out a hearty sigh as she sat up straighter in the chair, running an aged hand over his beard. 

“Why are you here, Gen? Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to see you, but I sort of have some errands to run, so we need to make this quick, if you don’t mind?” Gen scoffed, setting down her cup. The warmth in her hands made her feel a little better. 

“Right. Errands. You know, if you answered your phone every once in a while, I wouldn’t be so inclined to make house visits. We need to know if you’re still with us, Jackson.”

 He took a long sip from his own cup, trying to either avoid Gen’s eyes, the question, or the whole situation in general.  "I’m here.“ Genevive cocked an eyebrow. ”Honest. I’m doing better.“ 

”Better.“ She rolled the word over in her mouth, leaving her with a bitter taste. It made her want to laugh. ”Bullshit.“ She spit, catching Jackson off guard. ”Just…bullshit Jackson. You’re not doing better. Wanna know how I know?“ He didn’t seem inclined to answer so she kept going. ”Because no one is doing better. None of us, not a single one, is doing better, after three years. So it’s bullshit when you say you are, out of all people. How are you, Jackson, really?“ A sort of fire ignited in Jackson’s eyes as he glared over the mug to Genevive, who glared right back. It was like that for a moment, until Jackson gave. He sat his cup down on the table, rubbing his hand over his eyes like he was wiping away memories.

Maybe it was because they had known each other for so many years. Maybe it was Gen’s personality taken way. Maybe it was just all the strain of keeping things in for years, but finally Jackson Fields gave and a sniffling could be heard in the silent kitchen.

”I feel like shit.“ He whispered. 

”Look like it too.“ This made Jackson chuckle, even just a bit. 

”Yeah, I know. I don’t know Gen…I just don’t know anymore.“ Genevive, pushing the empty mug off to the side, reached across the table to take Jackson’s hand in her own. She gave it a tight squeeze and smiled gently at him. 

”You told me everything, once upon a time. Let me in, Jackson. Please? I may not be able to help, god knows, but…maybe I can take off some of the burden.“ She pleaded. Jackson cleared his throat and stared out of the kitchen window. 

”It’s all too much sometimes. I miss her so much, Gennie. And the kids…I’ve missed out on so much of their lives because I’ve shut myself away. They’re hurting just as much, and I haven’t been there for them. I’ve let Jess do everything and let her deal with the pain by herself too…and I’ve put you and Ianthe through hell. I’m a pathetic excuse for a person.“ He chocked out, giving Genevive’s hand a tight squeeze.

She held on as tight as she could, afraid if she were to let go, Jackson would go with it. Her heart broke when she got the call, Ianthe’s too. And the kids were heart broken along with them. But even experiencing her own pain, she could never even imagine what Jackson was going through. There is no way she could ever imagine what it would be like if she were to lose Ianthe. So she couldn’t tell him she knew how it felt. That would be a lie. But she could let him get it all out, and right now he needed to. It was killing him to have it all bottled up inside.

”Jackson, you are not pathetic. You are in mourning. Everyone experiences it differently. This is just how you dealt with it…“ Listening to her words, Jackson managed a almost there smile in response. ”How about I make us another cup? I think we’ll be here for a while.“

”Alright…hey Gen?“ She stopped halfway over to the stove, turning around to hear him better. ”Thank you.“

”Anytime…I’m always here for you Jackson. Always.“

#simmingwiththetide #Genevive Harris #my oc #Jackson Fields #oc drabbles #my writing #okay I kinda had to stop writing there at the end #thats why it drifts off #cause I could have kept writing for a while #death mention tw #asks #ask games #in my mind this was a lot more emotional #but it was just getting too ling #;-;