#tumblr would not let me post this last night hoping it does today

[technicallyaminecraftsimp]

So recently I saw a post on here that reminded me of my partner and me, so I ended up making a comic!!!! The original (I think) is under the cut!

Hi Innssssssssss @fumrell this is my gift for you bc you are soooo awesome :]]

#anyways I love my partner so so so so so so much #hys so cool and hot and awesome I love hym!!!!!! #also this comic may or may not be loosely inspired by a hc fanart if the same discord thing #so yeah #Crab Doodles #tumblr would not let me post this last night hoping it does today #this site doesn’t want the people to know I was up at 11 at night #I need sleep

[my-castles-crumbling]

New Fic Recs!

Hi guys! I wanna start posting fics recs every once in a while that are newer- that either were just posted or haven't gotten the love they deserve! I'll do my best to tag the authors if I know them/if they have a tumblr! Here are some for today! (Authors, if you want me to remove you/your work for any reason, please lmk!) NSFW fics below the cut!

Edit: I just focused on completed works here, but I'm more than willing to recommend incomplete works if you guys want!

If You Stayed - Jegulus - rated G - 5k by @t1oui

After leaving his family for good, Regulus Black moves in with James Potter, who agrees to give him a place to stay as long as he looks after James's six-year-old son, Harry. Even though they haven't talked about it, Regulus knows that he'll have to leave when Harry goes back to school, no matter how much he wishes this wasn't the case. Between spending time with Harry and Luna, the weird girl who lives up the street, and the more-than-friendly feelings he's starting to have for James, the summer can only end badly. Right?

Funnel Cakes and Peanut Butter Fudge - Wolfstar ft. Background Jegulus - Rated T - 5.5k by @onehundredflamingos

Sirius grinned at him. “I came for the Rocky road fudge,” he whispered back, and the man gasped in mock offense. “Good thing, because I think I bought the last of the peanut butter fudge.” Sirius let out a startled laugh, amused by the fact that he had suggested something to Sirius only to yank it right back from beneath him. “Oh, I would have been wildly disappointed if you had managed to sway my fudge preferences.” “I would’ve gladly shared, if I had managed to sway you,” he said with a smirk. “Alas, I’ll have to eat it all myself.” “A tragedy, I’m sure,” Sirius replied. The other man shrugged. “Suddenly feels a bit like one.” Or Sirius wins more than he bargains for when he meets Remus at a carnival fundraiser, ft a very much already-in-love Jegulus

So Kiss Me - Jegulus - Rated T - 3.7k by lairyfights

Regulus Black is in love with James Potter and he'd bet his entire inheritance, if he still had one, that James does not feel the same way. It's lucky that his parents suck and the inheritance is no longer something he can gamble

Let Me Put My Lips to Something - Wolfstar - Rated E - 2.3k by si11iestg00se

remus can't help it---the moon makes him possessive. he wants to mark his territory.

here's to my baby - Wolfstar - Rated E - 3.2k by @emlovessid

“It’s our last night at Hogwarts, our last hurrah, you don’t want to spend it down here with our friends?” Remus asks, a hand coming up to toy with Sirius’ hair. Stretching up on his toes, Sirius’ lips brush Remus’ ear as he whispers, “It’s our last night at Hogwarts, and I’d much rather spend it with you fucking me into your mattress.”

All amazing fics! Hope you guys enjoy!

#marauders #harry potter #marauders era #fanfic #marauders fandom #harry potter marauders #the marauders #marauders fanfiction #ao3fic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #ao3 #fic rec

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

would you ever consider translating sasara and rosho’s new duet? i’m sure it would be a real undertaking what with all the manzai, but i’ve always loved your style of localizing jokes! hope you’re having a great day!

You're very kind. Just for you, anon, I'll brave the horror of Dotsuhon lyrics translation. Under a cut for length. This post is so long Tumblr won't save all of it, so it'll have to be done in two goes.

Notes about style: No attempt to preserve rhyme or rhythm. Likewise, no attempt to match the vocal tone/line delivery/line length of the voice actors. (Ie, I'm not writing subtitles, so it might sound odd if you try to listen to the song at the same time as reading this.) The primary focus is on written tone, including wordplay, so strict adherence to literal meaning is not observed. In particular, since this is supposed to sound like a (radio?) comedy sketch, I'm trying to write it with the generally jocular tone such a performance would have in English. Some notes on jokes to follow for those curious. Sasara and Roshou: Hey, folks! Sasara: You're listening to the one and only Dotsuitare Hompo from Osaka. Roshou: Thanks for having us tonight! Sasara: We're Sasara Nurude and... Roshou: ...Roshou Tsutstujimori. Sasara: We usually have a third guy with us, our older buddy Rei Amayado, but he wasn't able to make it for some reason or another. So, you're stuck with the two of us today. Roshou: Sorry, sorry, and thanks again for having us. Sasara: Anyway, things sure are tough out there these days, huh? Roshou: You're telling me. Sasara: So I'd like to get on the mic and say a couple of jokes, cheer folks up a little bit in this whole mess. Roshou: You? You're the biggest mess there is. [1] But you're right. All anyone needs is a good, hot meal and a couple of laughs, and they're set. Sasara: Yeah! A good, hot banquet or three and a personal comedian. All a person needs in life! Roshou: A tad more expensive than I'd intended, but sure. Sasara: And then if you get a good night's sleep with a warm futon riiiight on the floor, then you're in heaven! Roshou: Wait, hold on. You'll catch a cold sleeping like that! You need a quilt or something at least. Sasara: But then what if I overheat? I'd rather quilt while I'm in bed. Roshou: ...Wait, you messed that up. It's supposed to be "quilt while I'm ah--" whatever, let's move on. [2] [Chorus] Sasara and Roshou: We'll keep our chins up and get through this bad time. And we'll set the whole city laughing until even Tsuutenkaku cracks up. [3] Sasara: Don't worry, everybody. I know things are pretty turbulent right now, but it won't last forever. And hey, at least the state of the world right now is like okonomiyaki, and we all know how much I love that! [4] Roshou: In what sense? Sasara: It keeps getting flipped upside down! [5] Roshou: Oh my god, Sasara. Well, at times like this, it never hurts to have seafood... Sasara: I see food, I eat it! Roshou: ...or anything fried... Sasara: After all this chaos, I know I'm fried. Roshou: ...not to mention smothered in sauce. Sasara: You getting saucy with me, mister? [6] But now you're talking my language! And also, the other day I sewed a--wait, did someone say soda? [7] Roshou: Yes, yes, we all know you love cream soda, but you don't need to bring it into every conversation! Sasara: OK(nomiyaki), that's fair. [8] Roshou: Same goes for okonomiyaki! Sasara: Geez, Roshou, what's your problem? Work with me here; commit to the bit. Roshou: Bit of what? [9] Sasara: The routine! That's my motto: always commit to the bit. Roshou: Well, maybe you'd finally get somewhere in life if you tried committing to the whole thing. [10] Sasara: Hey, low blow. We don't all come with your level of ginger. Roshou: No, but you know what does? Okonomiyaki! [11]

#dotsuitare hompo #hypmic translations #hypmic asks

[katiescribbles]

Oblivious.

credits to the owner of the gif | second post ;-;

!! English Is Not My First Language !!

| Please do not steal my work, I don’t post anywhere else and only here on tumblr when it comes to my fanfics. |

summary : your best friend and coworkers, Steve Harrington has been ‘oblivious’ when it came to your feelings.

warning : cursing, oblivious Steve, a bit of angst? Slight mention of bruises, use of y/n, spelling mistakes, grammatical errors I think that’s it, tell me if I missed anything! ^^

—

You didn’t know what to do or say, you got on a fight with Steve yesterday during work, he ditched you and your movie night for a date, a fucking date. Why was he so oblivious when it comes to love? You’ve tried your best to give him hints over and over again, flirting with him, covering for his missed shifts, asking him out to dinner and him asking the party to come along, you’ve given him notes for gods sake, and he just thinks it’s from a customer he flirted with? You were fed up.

“Y/n, can you please cover up for my shift tomorrow afternoon? I have a date with Mindy, pleaseeeee.” he begged you for a few hours now and you kept saying no. He was confused, you’d usually cover for him with just one plead but not today.

“Please, I really want to go tomorrow, don’t you know how I would feel?” he followed you around while he kept talking, you were placing the tapes that was returned back to its proper shelf and completely ignoring Harrington behind you. You were now fed up, you didn’t want to blow up but you were having a hard time at home and you also had a hard time trying to ignore the hurt that you feel right then and there.

“but did you ever consider how I feel!?” you now raised your voice which shocked Steve, you weren’t like this. You don’t usually raise your voice towards anyone, certainly towards him.

“Is there a problem with you today? Are you alright?” he was now concerned, not knowing if he went too far.

“sorry, i’m just exhausted today.” you mumbled going back to the counter and crossing your arms trying to avoid a conversation and hope that a customer comes in, you were lucky your shift was almost over, it's currently 3:55 and your shift ends at 4:30, only 35 minutes more to leave this hellhole.

“Sorry for asking you, I just really wanted to go with her, you know. It's been quite a while since I went on a date with her, and she’s really nice.” he said quietly, fidgeting with his fingers.

“If you really like this girl then ask Keith. Not me, I can’t help you. Specially when it comes to girls.” you said the last part as a mumble, hoping he wouldn’t hear it. But for some reason he heard it, you’ve always wondered how he can still hear despite being beaten probably 50 times already.

“If I didn’t know better, I would say you’re jealous right now.” he laughed waiting for you to laugh along with him, but you never did. “wait, you’re jealous?”.

“So what if I am?”

“does that mean you like me?”

Silence..

“Say no, oh god please say no.” he said frozen on his spot. You didn’t wanna waste another minute on this place, who cares if your shift isn’t over yet, you wanna get out to avoid Steve to avoid being rejected, you now started to walk away and went to get your bag.

“You’re already leaving? Your shift is not over until twenty-eight minutes though.” Robin got up from the floor where she was scribbling on a peace of paper.

“I don’t care, please don’t tell Keith, I don’t want to apply for another job.” you said to the girl who was trailing behind you.

“o-okay, did something happen?” she said worriedly not being answered since you were already outside of the store.

“What did you do this time, dingus?”

“did you know she likes me?” he said, sounding out of it and the words coming out breathy.

“oooff..so this is what’s up, i’ll let you figure out everything on yourself.” the short haired girl said.

—

It was now the next day, you were now sitting in your parents’ sofa watching television when you heard the telephone rang. As you got up to answer the phone you took a bite off a sneakers bar before answering the phone.

“Y/l/n’s residence, if you’re looking for my parents, they are currently–” you were cut off by the person on the other line, you heard a boys voice. His voice. Shit, shit, shit, this is bound to get awkward.

“Y/n?” you heard from the other line, it was easy for you to remember voices of people even if you’ve only had a conversation once, but you know this voice all too well.

“Yes..?” it was already six p.m., you thought he was going on a date with Mindy, he’s been talking about her ever since last week which made you and Robin want to go deaf until he’s mute.

“Where are you?” he asked, is he drunk?

“I’m in my house...you called my parents’ house...so if you’re smart enough to put all the pieces together, it means i’m in my parents house.” you said slowly, attempting to make him understand what you’re saying.

“I didn’t know calling you would include a sass, i’m coming over.” he said before hanging up the phone. Sure your parents has seen him and liked him, but you didn’t say yes. It’s only a matter of time he’ll bust through your door....or worse..

You were watching television again when you heard a huff from behind you.

“fucking bitch!? you scared the living hell out of me! how many times have I said to you not to enter through my god damn window?! There's a good and perfectly working door right there!!” you aggressively said while pointing the front door of your home, angry and worried that if the next time he does that, he might end up breaking a bone or two if he accidentally falls from the second floor window.

“How many times have I told you to lock it?” he said calmly, now that you paid attention to him more, you saw his left eye starting to bruise.

“Oh Steve, what happened?” you asked worriedly walking towards him, you were now caressing his cheeks careful to not touch the bruise. You led him to the sofa and made him sit down.

“got in a fight.” ah, of course. You wouldn’t be surprised when it comes to fighting. You both were now staring at each other, not looking away. You cleared your throat, seeing how close you two were sat together.

“Be still, i’ll get you some ice.” you mumbled before going to the kitchen and looking for a fabric to wrap it around the cold ice.

“So this is the reason you’re here instead of your date with Mindy? You know, I really should charge you now for being your personal nurse.” you jokingly said before he let out a small yet genuine laugh.

“That’s not the reason why i’m here.” he said, taking the ice from you and carefully placing it on his left eye.

“Then what is it?” is it to rub it in your face and hurt you more now knowing that you liked him? You asked, placing your knees close to your chest and letting your head rest.

“i’m sorry.” he simply said.

“For what?” you were truly hoping and silently praying not to get rejected by this human being.

“For not knowing your feelings, listen i do like you, I was just scared that you don’t like me back, that those flirting you do was just a joke and you were....” you waited for him to finish his sentence but he didn’t.

“that I were...what? what Steven?” you know he hated it when someone calls him that, and it didn’t even help him one bit, it made him more nervous confessing his feelings.

“You were lesbian and that..that you liked Robin.” what. the. fuck. You too notice that you and Robin are all lovey-dovey with each other but it was all an affection-bestie thing. You were head over heels for him, you were lucky enough you didn’t trip and lost your feelings for him.

“So...you like me? but what about Mindy? You can’t just play with her, I don’t want you hurting another girl.” even if it hurt you to say that, you knew you were right. Mindy was basically used as a distraction and you didn’t want that happening to you or anyone.

“I’ll tell her tomorrow, now can you treat me, my personal nurse?”

—

so...uhh..how was it? 👁️👄👁️

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fluff #stranger things imagines #robin buckley #joe keery

[povbeth]

six roses | percabeth (0)

series masterlist

chapter summary: it's been two years since percy left town (read: annabeth), and neither of them can stop thinking about each other.

wc: 2.8K

warnings: it's just a lot of emotional constipation and regret and sadness and- [car crashes into me]

a/n: hellooooo :p honestly don't know what i'm doing bc nobody posts percabeth fanfic on tumblr but guess what? i do! i've been wanting to do a series like this for a while so i'm glad i'm finally getting started on it. lmk what you think here!

also posted on ao3

prologue: thinking about you.

Grover has been watching Annabeth lose herself for the last few hours. 

Had she known, Annabeth would argue that Grover does this every morning. But today doesn’t follow their normal routine. The two canceled their shift at work for the next morning and took an early leave to prepare. Instead of locking her bedroom door and rotting in bed, Annabeth hobbled over to her best friend's house for a night with no sleep and a bag full of candy, ready to binge watch Disney classics till the sun peeks through the windows. 

It’s an annual event, one that follows a 10 year tradition; One the same day every year, Annabeth and Grover have a sleepover, in which they total approximately two hours of sleep and six hours of movies. 

It’s supposed to be fun, and Annabeth does find it fun. But for the last two years, it’s been different. Tainted. Scarred. And Grover knows this, but will never say it out loud. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

He’ll make her say instead. 

She’s not surprised at the question. Really, it was inevitable. Grover knows what joy looks like, and he knows what a lack of it looks like on Annabeth. She could feel his eyes observing her as she stared at Lilo and Stitch without a single tear rolling down her cheek. He can always count on her to sing along with Gaston, but not a peep left her lips. He knows how emotional the Little Mermaid gets you, but he couldn’t hear a sniffle from her. 

She doesn’t bother turning her head to face him. She won’t let him see the silent tear trails on her face. “You already know.”

Does he ever wonder?

Does he ever wonder like I do?

About the memories he’s left behind on a whim, in the hopes for a dream that was miles away. Away from the town he’s been in since he could babble a few incoherent words, towards a city filled with unfamiliar faces Away from the town he can only remember by your name. 

About the memories that haunt her at night, but they swear they’re here to keep her at ease. They should be comforting, but they’re holding her tight enough to be suffocating. 

Maybe they’ll let her sleep tonight if she cries a bit. Just a teeny bit. 

Before she knows it, her eyes are teary. Grover feels her shift on the makeshift bed the two made on the ground. “You good?”

Nights spent on the phone talking about forever, an eternity that would only last a little over a year. Had the word stayed true to its meaning, she wouldn’t have hated it. Spending forever with him. She’d sigh and tell him this in hushed whispers as she’d lay in bed with her phone beside her pillow, and he’d giggle a bit. If she wasn’t too caught up with the idea of eternity with him, she would’ve realized that he’d never reply with confirmation. That he thinks about it too, that her idea of forever exists in the realm of possibility. 

Did he ever toy with forever like I had?

She doesn’t respond to the silent boy next to her, who waits for some kind of response. There’s a pile of memories clogged in her blue veins, and they choose tonight to flow properly. 

And so she does what she knows best. 

Lie. 

“I’m good.”

Her memories unravel themselves quickly. They’re only a few years old, but they’ve learned fast.  Really, they’re not evil in nature – sneaking out at one in the morning to see him at a park near her house, writing exclamations of love into his skin during class, holding his hand as he walks her home – but they’re sharp. Short strands, but they have an edge to them. They know where to poke her, where to prod, where to stab. Like shards of glass, meeting her chest with good aim. 

(But it doesn’t seem like an issue. She’d relive them in her head regardless of the pain.)

It doesn’t take Grover long to realize that she won’t say anything more than that. Instead of pushing for an answer, he lazily turns his body to face her. “I miss him too, y’know.”

And that’s what makes Annabeth break. 

Because it’s not just her – it’s Grover, her cousin, and more importantly, his best friend. The boy he’d known way before you, since the two were in pre-school, squalling nonsense that only made sense to them. Brothers who knew each other better than themselves (though Grover would argue that he never really knew him). 

Grover’s hurt too, and it makes everything hurt more. 

She’s sobbing before she knows it, staining her cheeks and pillow in the process. It’s an unmapped cry that escapes her, one that doesn’t sound like her. She tries to pin it on something – regret, distaste, sorrow – yet it doesn’t land quite right. Must be something ugly, something that can only exist in a person who’s come across Percy Jackson.

“It’s been two years,” she manages through the tears. “And I’m still feeling like this.”

“I know.” Grover comforts her. She’ll never know it, but the tears he holds back are only for her. 

“He doesn't even think about us. And I know he did it for himself, for his career, for his family, but it’s just… I don't know–”

“You feel greedy,” Grover tries to grasp. “for wanting him to stay–”

“No, that’s not it!” she barely recognizes the noise that’s coming out her throat. Is this what her memories have done? Turned her into a foreigner of her own voice? “That's not even what I wanted! I just – I just wanted him to tell me… and to tell you…”

…that he was leaving. Not that he didn’t – he did, just on the day of. 

That’s one memory that she can’t unravel. She doesn’t remember how her day started, or how the conversation came about. All she recalls is the moment he said, “I have to leave.”

The rest is a blur. She remembers looking at him incredulously, as if he was joking. She remembers arguing with him, angry at him for choosing to tell her now, when his ride to the big apple was an hour away. She remembers watching him leave, his shoulders slouched as he walked away from the ruins of their relationship. 

She wonders what remains of her now. In his mind, perhaps he only remembers a lousy town with a girl with perpetual mascara running down her face. Maybe he remembers her name, not her face. Maybe she’s a distant memory that he can’t bother to recall, not when he’s at the peak of his career. 

Years pass, and so do her emotions. Hatred has dissolved in her heart, but she’s sure she can build it back up if she wants to. She’s more understanding, that maybe it was for the best. Sure, she wishes he executed things better. But she gets it – Percy was a boy with dreams. And she, better than most people, should know what it means to reach for them. 

It means to sacrifice the things you love the most – and maybe, it was proof that he did love her, at least back then. If that were the case, she wishes that she wasn’t on the top of the list. 

Maybe nothing of her remains, and that’s what scares her the most. Especially when his everything is engraved in her. 

It’s been exactly two years since the day he left, yet the realization only settles in her bones now – she’s afraid that she’s worth nothing more than dust to the boy who once loved her from the sun and back. 

The truth is, Percy wonders too much.

His ‘friends,’ if that’s what he could call them, told him the night was still young. To be clear, it was an hour past midnight, and Percy just wanted to crash at his hotel room. 

To be even clearer, he didn’t know these guys well. He's seen a few of them in that new movie with vampires, and the others are fellow singers whose songs he’s heard far too many times. They smile on the red carpet, baring their fancy looks for the cameras, and wipe the smiles off their faces as soon as they take a step off it. He thinks it’s fair – he’s done the same today – but it doesn’t excuse them from being absolute assholes to everyone who isn’t an A-list celebrity. 

Of course, Percy doesn’t fit in the category of nobodies for them. He’s topping the charts with every new release and bagging every award he’s been nominated for. To the famous clique, he’s one of them, just haven’t been acquainted yet. 

So when Percy happened to have a table near theirs, they invited themselves over with a bottle of alcohol that he swears was not on the menu. 

Percy knew nobody besides Jason, his first friend in the industry, and his only friend at this event. He'd really been hoping that he and Jason could leave without anyone noticing. Like the incredible actor he was, his friend called Percy’s manager and convinced her that the two of them were actually feeling sick. 

“Never going to a gala again,” Jason groans as they enter the hotel lobby. “That was terrible.”

“Yeah,” Percy mumbles. “I just wanna crash right now.”

Percy has never been a man of many words, Jasons noticed. He’s still the shy boy from the small town, even when he has to smile at the paparazzi that followed him practically everywhere. But today in particular, Percy hasn’t been talking much.

Despite the obvious lack of words from the raven haired boy, Jason says nothing. Even as they head up the elevator, the two stand in silence. It’s comfortable, but it’s different from their usual fall of words. Percy’s eyes are closed, not in concentration, but in an exhaustion that Jason can’t seem to pinpoint. 

Jason doesn’t know anything about the town Percy left behind two years ago. He doesn’t know that today marks two years since he’s left it behind, and wouldn’t understand the weight that it holds, even if Percy were to tell him. 

He’s been wanting to ask if something is wrong for the past few hours, and so he finally does. He's not expecting much, but Percy looks at him as if he’s finally hit his tipping point. 

And that’s how Jason finds himself in Percy’s hotel room, having been dragged into the room by his older friend. He’s concerned, surprised by the sudden emotional act Percy’s put on. 

“It’s just…” he heaves as he sits down on his bed. “It's been a long day.”

An understatement at its finest. He knew what awaited him – beyond the gala, there was his family. Sure, they’ve been on good terms, great even, but the weight of his ticket back home seems to weigh the room down. There’s his friends from back home, whose texts pile up on his phone (which Percy ignores). 

And then there’s Annabeth. Clouding his thoughts before he woke up, appearing in his dreams and haunting him before he could take his first breath of the day. 

It’s a given, he thinks, knowing that he’s made peace with everything else back in town. His parents were always supportive, his friends came to understand. But there’s a distance of time and heart between Annabeth and him, and the fact that it’s tainted his perception of who she is now has him begging God to shrink him into nothing. 

So his day was rough. He can’t recall a moment where he didn’t feel an ache in his chest. 

“Wanna talk about it?”

Percy fiddles with the bottom of his tie, rolling the material between his fingers. “well…”

He does, but the last thing he wants to do is say her name out loud. 

“It's been two years since I left my hometown,” he mumbles. It’s easier to say than I broke up with my girlfriend two years ago and haven’t gotten over it since. 

“I see.” Jason says, though he doesn’t really get it. He grew up in the city, and even though the two boys are practically the same, there’s a difference in experience between them. Where Percy grew up was vastly different from this place, so Jason tries to understand. “You miss it?”

“Mhm. I miss my parents, and…”

And Annabeth.

“There's something bugging you,” Jason notes with a frown on his face. “You can tell me, y’know. I won't judge.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you… it’s just complicated, I guess.”

“Well,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I'm all ears.”

Percy doesn’t know what to say. But since his friend’s standing there, leaning against his dresser and waiting for him to speak, he supposes he has to spit it out at some point. 

“Just… thinking about someone.”

“A girl?”

He goes silent for a second too long and Jason panics. “Oh, is it a guy–”

“No, no. It’s my girlfr– well, ex-girlfriend.”

He nods in sympathy. He’s never been in a relationship, but he can imagine how hard breakups can be. “Yhings were rough, I’m guessing?”

Nothing was rough, actually. Things were as perfect as they could possibly be. 

The two were enemies as kids. He remembers bits and pieces – young Annabeth kicking sand in his face, swearing that she’d never go close enough to catch cooties from him. 7-year-old Percy splashing water in her face (read: soaking her with a water bottle) and running away before she could tell his mom. Swore that they’d never be friends unless it rained cows. 

Except things didn’t go as planned; she ended up dating him through highschool, and he ended up leaving her at the end of it. 

“I guess you could say that. We broke up the day I left town.”

Percy doesn’t tell him that it was because of him, or that it happened right before he was leaving for the train station. He doesn’t mention how he was feeling blue for his first year here, and that even though it’s past one year, he feels sick at any memory of you. He doesn’t even say her name, because the weight of his guilt lays heavy on the vowels and it’s too much to bear. 

Instead, Percy does exactly what Jason wanted – unpack how he feels. He lets his feelings escape the lid, listens to them pour out without caring about how selfish he sounds, how terribly hoarse his voice is. 

Annabeth always seems to do this to him. A single memory of her has him feeling like he’s eighteen again. Every memory of that time leads to a dead end, and though a small part of him wishes he could forget her, his mind tends to run back to that time. 

It's incredibly stupid of him to miss her when he was the one who left. He knows this, but can’t help but indulge in the longing he feels. 

And by the time he’s done talking, there’s a box of tissues in his lap and Jason beside him, patting his back as if it could erase every bad emotion he’s feeling.

Jason’s at a loss for words. He didn’t know, but he feels like he should’ve. He should’ve connected the dots when he caught Percy reading old text messages a few days. He should’ve gotten the hint when he saw Percy standing next to another girl as if he was a stiff tree. He should’ve caught on to how his friend never liked to talk about relationships, excusing it as something he wasn’t interested in, despite his unrivaled passion for romcoms.

Percy loves torturing himself by thinking about Annabeth, but talking about her is the opposite – any mention of her seems to bring the mood down for not just him, but everyone around him. The weight of her name is so heavy, it’s a burden on anyone who knows your situation with him. 

It's especially terrible when your Annabeth is inscribed in his heart, his veins adorned with engravings of her. The vessels are shrinking under her load, pressing his chest and squeezing his throat. 

With every mention to Jason, her name escaping his lips makes the weight increase. 

It's been exactly two years since the day he left, yet his heart feels heavier than before. 

#percabeth #percabeth fic #annabeth #annabeth chase #leahbeth #percy jackson #percy #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #grover #grover underwood #pjo #pjo fic #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson fic #pjo fandom #percy jackson fanfic #heroes of olympus fanfic #perseus jackson #black annabeth chase #blond percy jackson #pjo au #percy jackson au #percabeth au #povbeth: my fics

[achaotichuman]

Do you think you could write about dehlia in this context: https://www.tumblr.com/praetorqueenreyna/737196004108058624?source=share, hopefully featuring deadbeat at first mom feyre, horrified stepdad rhysand, tired of it all tamlin and a supportive lucien/eris.

This has been sitting, marinating in my drafts. But it is finally complete. I am fully aware I fucked up the timeline here, but I'm not rewriting all of this, so we're gonna pretend that fancy Fae tests can reveal a pregnancy at four weeks instead of eight like the post said.

And disclaimer before anyone calls for my head, for this fic I am also rewriting Ianthe's character, because she is too interesting for me to just write off as a sex offender and never think about again. Also, it is very interesting to see her as a genuinely morally grey person with good intentions. So, in this fic, she never SAs Lucien, but she does get a cool plot twist so stay tuned for that.

Basically, I have turned this into a rewrite of Acomaf and Acowar. A lot of the events were written from pure memory, and asking Tumblr, so forgive me if some scenes from the OG series were left out or written significantly differently. We mostly got Feyre's version of events anyway, so I'm not too worried.

This will be split into several chapters. Three being for the Mist and Fury rewrite, and then two for the Wings and Ruin rewrite. And if I have time, I'll do an Acofas rewrite. I'll be uploading all three of the Mist and Fury chapters today, and linking them in this post. You can also find it on SquidgeWorld here, and Ao3 here.

Anyway, here is the long-awaited fic, anon. And @r-biter, thank you for the original post, I hope I do it justice. Also @praetorqueenreyna who reblogged the original post.

Also, did I turn this into a Tamcien fic? Yes, of course I did.

A Field of Dahlias

“Are you alright with this?” He asked, it may have been the hundredth time he asked, Feyre gave him the same exasperated eyes she had given him all night long. 

Everything pointed to her being more than alright with this. Him pressed into the sheets below her, their clothes forgotten on the floor, her eyes glazed with lust. The rush of new hormones in her head no doubt fuelled the arousal that was now pressed against his wet slit. She leaned down, teeth a touch sharper than normal. She kissed his neck, dragging her canines along his fluttering pulse like he would for her. 

She ran her now larger hands down his slightly smaller than normal frame. Hands finding his breasts and squeezing relentlessly, pinching his nipples, her rough fingers, calloused from years of work from before she had been turned fae. Tamlin bit down on his lip, not wanting the whimper that pressed against his vocal cords to be released. A part of him still didn’t understand the switch in the power dynamic and begged to flip her over, to shift them both back to normal and continue this the way he knew well. 

But he didn’t, he remained underneath Feyre. Her chest flatter, set a touch wider, her shoulders broader. Her hips, now more narrow, rocked forward ever so slightly, as if on their own accord, as if her body was begging to bury the length now resting between her legs into the tight warmth before her. 

“I’m fine, more than fine, like I’ve said a hundred times already.” She added an eye roll to the last part, Tamlin countered it with his own. 

“Fine, but if you want to stop at anytime-”

“Are you okay with this, Tam?” She asked, hands becoming more gentle, roaming his skin like she loved it, like she cared. 

It was still new, the loving and the caring, the likes of which Tamlin hadn’t felt in years. 

“I’m okay.” Tamlin said, forcing his voice to remain steady. He loosened a breath, then spread his thighs wider. 

“Well?” He asked, adding a grin to his words, “Lets see how sloppy your form is, wicked creature.”

Feyre gave him her own wild grin, eyes filled with that lust and love. Something caring and devoted in her face, she leaned down and put her face into the crook of his neck, licking at the skin in a careful, deliberate manner. 

“Let’s see how well you hold up, Faerie Lord.” 

***

Tamlin shuffled a few papers on his desk. Briefly glancing over all of them before sorting them into piles and picking up the one closest to his left. With nimble fingers he paged them apart and began to read each complaint. A sigh escaping his throat. 

He tried to ease the worry sitting low in his belly but it wouldn’t relent, as the pile of complaints grew higher, the headache pounding behind his eyes tightened. 

After he was done reading the letters, he moved to open a drawer in his desk. Then the feeling of his stomach lurching overwhelmed his senses. Nausea made his legs shake, he retched, then quickly slapped his palm over his mouth before winnowing to the nearby bathroom. 

He had all of about three seconds before he was bent over the toilet, vomiting until he was shaking so badly he could barely stand on his knees. He dry heaved for a minute before finally his body relented and he slumped back, panting heavily, beats of sweat gathering on his forehead. 

“Gods dammit.” He cursed, forcing himself to his feet and quickly cleaning up. 

As he rinsed out his mouth, a pain shot up his spine and the sickness returned with a festering wrath. Tamlin groaned, a low sound from the back of his throat, he gripped the sides of the sink. 

***

It didn’t relent, the sickness came and went throughout the days. Tamlin thought he could handle it. Thought he could make it through the seemingly endless hours without anyone knowing something was amiss. 

“Two of you will head for the south border and I will send another group towards-” Tamlin was cut off by bile rising quickly in his throat, burning him from the inside out. He couldn’t get another word out before he sprinted back inside. Leaving five very confused sentries outside. 

He rushed past several servants, all of which stopped to stare in concern. Tamlin ignored all of them. 

It was Alis that didn’t stare. Rather broke into a sprint after him. The Summer Faery found Tamlin practically doubled over while he emptied the contents of his stomach. Alis snapped in a gasp, then quickly ran over to pull back his hair, sticking to his face from sweat. 

“Tam…” She murmured. 

Tamlin could barely see, the world tipping from one side to the other. 

“Why are you staring?” Alis shouted at somebody, or somebodies at the door. Tamlin had enough sense to look back over his shoulder. He saw several servants who were loitering at the door, wondering what exactly was happening. 

“Leave this instant, go back to your duties.” She shouted, then quickly slammed the door, everyone scattered as quickly as possible. 

Tamlin panted as he sat back on his heels, tilting his head to the ceiling, “Gods.”

“Tamlin, are you alright?” Alis asked, helping him onto his shaking feet. He wanted to shove away from her and insist he was fine, but he was still getting his bearings back and the world was too bright, and he had a headache. 

She led him to the sink and coaxed him into washing up. Tamlin splashed his face with ice water, and rinsed out his mouth. Then he looked up to see the mirror. 

Gods, he hadn’t realised how little sleep he had been getting until he saw the deep purple under his eyes. The gauntness in them, along with his too pale face, made him resemble something of a ghost. 

“I…” 

“Tam.” She murmured. Putting a hand to his forehead, the rough bark of her hands rubbing against the soft skin. She furrowed her eyebrows, “You don’t have a temperature. 

“I’m fine, Alis.” He said. 

She breathed in deeply, face carefully controlled, “You need to see a healer. I will call for one-”

She turned to leave, but Tamlin took hold of her wrist. The light shining from Faelights in the bathroom too bright, he was so tired. 

“I don’t need a healer, Alis. It’s nothing.” He told her. Ignoring the image of himself in the mirror, ignoring that fact he knew very well that he did not look fine.

Still Alis wouldn’t go against his orders. She sighed, shoulders slumping slightly, her eyes cast downwards, “Just… fine then. Just please see one if this gets worse.”

Tamlin bit down on the inside of his cheek, but nodded all the same. 

***

It got worse, and there wasn’t anything he could do to hide it from anybody too close. 

So he locked himself in his study or his room, and tried to focus on anything else. Anything other than the constant headache pounding behind his eyes. The never-ending wish to lay in his bed and sleep until his days ended, and the constant vomiting. 

It didn’t relent, instead it worsened. 

Alis found him again. In the bathroom in his room. When she spotted his hair, dirty and tangled, eye bags even darker and skin paler than ever. She narrowed her eyes, but quickly tied back his hair. Once he was done, she told him, “We’re getting a healer.”

Tamlin wanted to protest again, but he was so tired. So he said nothing, instead he slumped against the nearest wall and closed his eyes. 

Why was this happening? Now of all times, when he needed to be alert for his Court. For the people who were still recovering. 

“It’s just stress.” Tamlin told Alis as she put a dampened cloth to his forehead. 

“I would still like for you to see a healer.” 

‘I don’t believe a word you say’, is what that meant. Tamlin chuckled, but the sound was hollow. 

“Alis, I-”

“Hush now, child.” She murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair away from his face as she sat down beside him, “I’ll call a healer, we will figure out what is happening.”

It felt too familiar. Like the days spent in his childhood when he and Alis would sit on the ground in the gardens, whilst she sang him songs in a language he didn’t know at the time. A language she had taught him, so he could sing with her. 

It was too nostalgic. He didn’t deserve to feel that love again. That deep rooted, innocent love, it belonged to the child that hadn’t been stained by the world. 

It belonged to the kid that hadn’t been ruined in every sense of the word. 

Alis didn’t seem to care in the slightest. She took in her hands three strands of blond hair and began to weave a braid. 

“It’ll be okay.” She assured him. 

Tamlin scoffed, he felt her fingers pause in his hair, so he mumbled, “Nothing seems okay now.”

Alis tilted her head slightly, to see his eyes better. Her brown irises rose to meet his green ones. Alis reached out, her rough fingertips caressing the side of his face ever so softly. 

“It will.” She whispered, “It will get better, Tam.”

***

The healer that he saw was named Heilda, she was a short sweet-faced lesser Fae with fluttering mosaic wings and short near white curly hair. Her eyes were all black and her teeth were sharpened. Tamlin was sitting in her office, in a small cottage in the middle of one of the busiest villages, close to the Manor. One of his hands rubbed his temple while the other tapped his leg. 

Lucien had dropped him off at Heilda’s residence before leaving to inform Alis he had indeed gone to the healer and not run off. Tamlin had then insisted he didn’t need to, but the headache came back, and Tamlin was powerless to stop the determined redhead. 

“How long has the vomiting been happening?” Heilda asked. 

The High lord bit the inside of his cheek, quickly thinking back on the past few months since they left the Mountain, “Give or take a month and a half.”

She quickly jotted that down in a leatherback notebook in her hands, then asked, “I’ve also been told you’ve been experiencing severe headaches? How long has that been happening?”

Tamlin shrugged, “I’ve had them all my life, just recently they’re occurring more and more.”

Heilda nodded as she jot notes down in her leather book, before turning to a variety of medicinal herbs and bottles of strangely coloured liquids. 

She rifled through a few before taking a mortar and pestle and began to grind a mixture of dried plants and herbs, asking questions as she did. 

“Have there been any recent changes in diet?” 

“No,” Unless Alis was slowly poisoning him, but he didn’t think her the killer type. 

“Drinking water regularly?” 

“Yes.”

“Have you been sleeping properly?”

Tamlin almost answered yes, then he remembered the nightmares that riddled his sleep, “...No.”

“Alright, that could be one cause, but from the extent of your headaches I’m inclined to believe there could be something else.” She took the herbal mixture and went to a fireplace where a small cauldron bubbled incessantly, “I’d like to run a few tests, my Lord.”

“Whatever you need to do.” He said. 

She took a blood and urinary sample. Tamlin waited for what felt like hours as she put them through several tests, mostly mixing strange things together and watching what happened. Occasionally noting reactions. Tamlin was bored out of his wits, staring at the ceiling, Heilda had given him some strange purple tea, it eased the pressure in his head and the nausea in his stomach, thankfully. 

There was a light rapping on the door, followed by a very familiar voice, “Lady Heilda, I was sent by Alis.”

“Come in, Lord Lucien.” Was all Heilda said, not looking up from her work. 

Lucien opened the door, his eyes immediately drawn to Tamlin and the drink in his hand. He nodded to it, a silent question, Tamlin just shrugged and jutted his head in the direction of Heilda. 

Lucien sat down in a chair beside Tamlin, “How are you doing?”

“Better since drinking this thing.” He said, showing Lucien the painted mug. Lucien nodded. 

“What's happening now?” He asked. 

“Heilda’s running tests, hopefully we’ll know what’s causing the nausea, we can fix it, then be on our merry way.” Tamlin said, drinking the last of the strange tea.

That was when Heilda clicked her tongue, “I don’t believe this is a problem we can simply fix, my Lord.”

She spun around in her chair, “I believe this problem will be a bit bigger than originally considered.”

Lucien and Tamlin furrowed their brows, glancing at each other before eyeing the healer worriedly. It was Lucien who asked, “And what is the problem exactly?”

Heilda took in a breath, seemingly steeling herself, as if on instinct, Lucien took Tamlin’s hand in his own. Holding him tightly. 

“My Lord,” She said, addressing Tamlin, “Have you shapeshifted into a female form, sometime within the last five or six weeks?”

Tamlin was taken aback by the question, he blinked at her, hand tightening in Lucien’s, “I mean… yes, but I’ve done it before, I don’t know how it could cause any issues. Especially not…” He counted the weeks since that night with Feyre, “Six weeks later.”

Now Heilda snapped in a deep breath, “This may be an uncomfortable question, but did you have any penetrative intercourse whilst in female form?”

“You’re right, that is an uncomfortable question.” Tamlin said, blinking at the healer like she had grown a second head, “That shouldn’t have anything to do with my symptoms.”

“Just trust her, Tam.” Lucien said, squeezing his hand in an assuring manner. 

“I just need a yes or no answer.” Heilda said gently. 

Tamlin sighed deeply, eyes squeezing shut, “Yes. Feyre is a shapeshifter as well.”

Heilda nodded, then leaned back in her chair, “Did you use any contraceptives this night in question?”

Now Tamlin gritted his teeth, “What does this-”

“Tam.” Lucien said gently. Tamlin looked over at his friend and sighed. 

“No, we did not.”

Heilda nodded, then she rubbed her hands together. Wringing out her fingers and cracking the knuckles as she crossed one leg over the other, “Okay. What I’m about to say may be shocking.”

“Just spit it out.” Tamlin said, finally and fully fed up with these riddles and strange questions. 

“Alright,” Heilda looked between Lucien and Tamlin, Lucien tightened his grip on Tamlin’s hand. 

“Congratulations, Lord Tamlin Fairburn, you are pregnant.”

One heartbeat, then a dozen. Tamlin stared at Heilda like she had two heads and a tail. Lucien had gone completely white, the fire lord looked as though he was about to pass out. 

Heilda looked between the two, she smiled, then clapped her hands as she wheeled her chair away, “This is what happens when you don’t take contraceptives.”

Tamlin laughed, he laughed hard, nearly falling off his chair. He gripped Lucien’s hand so tightly he could feel his bones grinding under his fingers, Lucien didn’t pull away regardless. The Fox remained silent whilst Tamlin fell into hysterics. 

“No!” Tamlin said, pushing himself back into his chair, “No, no, no. I am not- I am not at all. That is wrong!”

Anger now pressed through the hysteria. Heilda sighed like she expected this reaction, turning around she looked over at Tamlin, “Listen, you were in a female form and you-”

“I am not now aren’t I?!” He shouted, standing up from his chair. His sudden motion snapped Lucien from his daze. He quickly stood up and wrapped an arm around Tamlin’s chest. He made to wrap his free arm around his stomach, but suddenly didn’t. When Tamlin looked at him the Fox was breathing deliberately slowly, staring at his abdomen with an unreadable expression. 

It only served to piss Tamlin off even more. Heilda, unlike the two before her, stayed calm, her voice soft and gentle when she replied, “No, but you can still retain a womb in this form if your magic allows it.”

“I shifted back the morning after!” Tamlin shouted, “This should’ve never happened! You are wrong!”

“I’m not, and I think you know I’m not. Spring thrives off of fertility magic, your magic protected the foetus growing in your womb.” Heilda replied. So casual as if this happened every other day. 

Tamlin stammered and stuttered, trying to figure out someway around this. Some loophole or information that would directly challenge this. Like if he wished hard enough he could prove her wrong. Like if he managed to get angry enough, he could make this go away. Tamlin eventually looked to the floor. Beginning to process the information for what it was. For exactly what it meant.  

“I recommend shifting back into the form of a female, it will make this more comfortable.” Heilda said, her voice still so gentle. It stopped making him angrier, and as the initial shock and denial wore off, the world began to tip from one side to the other. Lucien held him up. The red-head’s fingers intertwined with Tamlin’s. 

“Is there anything else, Heilda?” Lucien asked, his voice a soft murmur behind Tamlin, yet a dull vibration in the face of the ringing in his ears growing with each passing second. 

“Bring him back for some more tests once he’s processed this.” Was all Heilda said. Tamlin was caught between wanting to wake up from this as if it were a dream and wanting to rip her throat out for being so casual about this. 

Only Lucien murmured his thanks. Tamlin considered cursing out the healer, but his sudden lack of energy made that impossible. 

In the future he would thank Heilda for being so calm, for now, he hated her for it. 

Lucien and Tamlin were silent as they left the healer’s office. Lucien kept his hand on Tamlin’s, gently leading the way as Tamlin was still reeling. Barely thinking, he couldn’t hear much besides some of Lucien's gentle murmurs and promises that they would figure it out. 

But as Lucien made to winnow them he suddenly stopped, eyes wide, face pale, hands shaking. Tamlin furrowed his brow whispering, “What?”

“Can-Can I winnow you? That won’t hurt…” Lucien bit his lip as he made a quick gesture to Tamlin’s belly. 

Tamlin snarled, his fangs a flash of white. He ripped his hand away from Lucien’s and marched in the general direction of Rosehall.

“Tamlin!” Lucien called out, quick to follow him, “Tamlin you can’t just storm off!”

“Watch me!” Tamlin turned around and screamed at him. Lucien stopped dead in his tracks, his nose scrunched as he furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Don’t scream at me, I’m only trying to help!” Lucien told him.

“I don’t need your help, Lucien! I don’t need you!” It was a dirty lie, because Tamlin needed Lucien more than air. Especially now. He felt his legs shaking, he wanted to fall to the ground. He wanted to sleep for a thousand years. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream and rage and throw things. He wanted to get angry. He wanted to go back to this morning when this didn’t exist to him. 

Tamlin didn’t wait to see Lucien’s reaction to his venomous words, he turned around and continued to storm away. 

He didn’t get far. Lucien appeared behind him and picked him up. Holding him in bridal carry. Tamlin yelled and thrashed, spitting curses at him, some of which he had forgotten he even knew. 

“Put me down!” His voice was drawing attention from passersby, but Lucien didn’t put him down, just waited. 

“Lucien fucking Vanserra let go of me!”

“Stop being a dickhead and I will.”

“You-”

“Tamlin.” Lucien warned. The tiniest hint of a growl in his voice, something about the way he said it made Tamlin stop squirming. The glare of death in the High lord’s eyes never left but he gritted his teeth and stopped moving. 

“Good.” Lucien said, putting him back on the ground, but keeping two hands on his shoulders. 

“Tamlin, we need to deal with this.” Lucien said, his eyes hard, his face unforgiving. 

“I know-”

“No, you will try and ignore this until you are physically unable to any longer, and then we will be unprepared. You and I are going to talk about this, and form a game plan.”

Tamlin’s eye twitched, “Then can you wait until we get back to Rosehall?”

“We will walk back.” Lucien said as he let go of Tamlin and plucked a paper and pen from the space between realms. The red-head scribbled something down before sending it off. Tamlin knew it would be something to Alis to say they would be returning later than expected. 

Tamlin’s hands once again curled into fists. He took in a deep breath, “I have shapeshifted, a little magic will not hurt.”

Lucien’s chest rose and fell with a deep breath, “We don’t know that Tam.”

Tamlin laughed quietly, at what he didn’t know. The world was going so fast, at the same time it came to a complete halt.  

“What the fuck are we going to do?” Tamlin asked quietly. 

Tamlin stared at nothing, vision slowing like a haze was settling over his bones, a dark mist that made everything seem so far away. 

“Hey.” Lucien murmured, taking the High lord’s hands in his, “We’ll figure it out.”

They walked. Over the rocky cobblestone paths and through the blooming gardens abounding through Spring, the smell of pollen wafted through the air, mixing with the scents of sweetened coffee and baked goods. The sun was speckled over the ground by the constant clouds passing overhead. Gentle breezes caressed the delicate petals of roses, lilacs and lilies. 

Tamlin resolutely stared at the ground ahead, each footstep deliberate and careful. He could feel whenever Lucien’s watchful eyes flicked to him. The High lord wrapped his arms around himself, releasing Lucien's hand, and made sure to not so much as flick his gaze to his emissary. 

Eventually it felt like Lucien got the message and looked ahead as well, the clicking of his eye never directed in Tamlin’s direction. Finally Tamlin looked at him, to see Lucien with his head held high and facing straight ahead. His red hair a banner behind him in the breeze. His stride never faltering. 

Tamlin felt like a newborn foal next to him, not so graceful and elegant, more clumsy and foolish. 

Then a sound filled his ears, one that made him stop dead in his tracks. Tamlin quickly snapped his gaze to his left, looking across a nearby field, filled with a plush blanket of white, purples, pinks and reds, there he saw a gaggle of children. Some lesser Fae, others High Fae. All blowing on dandelion fluff and laughing until they fell to the ground. Two boys with purple skin and big black eyes, chased each other with worms on sticks. A girl with delicate fluttering wings carefully placed a flower crown on a girl with pointed ears, freckles and ginger hair. 

Another two girls threw mud onto each other, ruining the delicate lace of their baby blue dresses. And one boy, much smaller than the rest, with wispy brown hair laughed until he fell onto his back. 

“Tam?” Tamlin didn’t look at Lucien as his eyes were captivated by the children of his Court playing without a care in the world. 

One hand scrunched in the fabric of his trousers, strands of blond hair were picked up by the wind, fluttering over and around his face. 

Lucien walked back to stand beside Tamlin as he saw what had halted him. The Fox of Prythian reached his hand out and wrapped Tamlin’s in it. 

“It’ll be okay Tam.” He whispered. 

“Dahlias.” Tamlin rasped, voice breathy and shaking. 

Lucien hummed in confusion and Tamlin pointed to the field, “The field its… the flowers are all dahlias.”

A heartbeat of silence passed them by, floating along like a butterfly on the wind, Lucien squeezed his hand ever so slightly, “A field of dahlias.”

***

The rest of the walk home was less exciting. Mostly Tamlin stayed caught in silence whilst Lucien broached the harder topics that would later need more discussion. The complications of having an Heir of not just Spring, but of the Cursebreaker, so quickly after Amarantha’s reign had come to a completion. Even Feyre was not completely settled into her new body as a High Fae, and certainly not settled into her new role at Court.

Tamlin wouldn’t dream of putting a singular extra duty on her shoulders that she didn’t need to have to stress about so soon after all had been said and done. But he had to admit they needed more publicity, something for the rest of Prythian to see that Feyre Archeron was the Lady of Spring, the saviour of the Mountain, and the Warrior who sent Amarantha to her grave. 

He didn’t want her to be a show pony, only to be paraded to see her achievements. She had said it herself on a number of times that she wanted a quiet life. But if a baby was now on the way-

No, not thinking about that. 

He didn’t want to think about ‘it’ , he wanted to think about how to get Feyre properly settled. Then how to stabilise the Court, and regain what had been stolen and lost to Amarantha. He needed to focus on the Court right now. 

The sight of Rosehall came into view and Tamlin felt a heavy weight settle over his shoulders, he spoke to Lucien while his eyes examined every detail of his home. “Organise dinners, celebrations, prepare for the upcoming holidays. Pay special attention to the farmers, whatever they need, send it to them. The doors of Rosehall are completely open to the public and any that come in seeking refuge from other Courts. And Lucien.”

Tamlin stopped and Lucien halted as well, his brown eyes meeting green, “Make preparations for the tithe, we need to get it back up and running. We are barely holding on as it is, with everything Amarantha has done we cannot afford the losses that have hit us.”

Lucien nodded, Tamlin went on, “Most of the money and jewels from the treasury were stolen and until we send people back under the mountain to retrieve what they can we are on a tight budget. Every coin goes straight into the refugees, the farmers and the villages that have lost their homes.”

“Of course, but Tamlin-”

“The people are in low spirits and the magic will sense that. Spring thrives off of fertility and celebration from the Fae. I haven't even seen the wisps since before we went under the mountain. Until the native creatures of the land return we are in emergency mode. I want a list of everyone we lost to Amarantha, I need a spreadsheet of the damages and the costs necessary to return everything to its former glory, until we are back to normal we will not rest-”

“Tamlin Kali Fairburn!” Lucien eventually yelled.

Tamlin blinked, then he blinked again. Lucien gritted his teeth, the light hitting the emissary in just the right way that his skin seemed to glow with his frustration, “You are stressing yourself out for no reason.”

Tamlin gawked at that, “There is a reason, our Court is still half in ruins-”

The fire lord marched forward and put his hands on his shoulders, “And I will help you to restore it. But you cannot try and handle everything yourself.”

“I am not trying to do everything myself-”

“You are thinking of everything at once, when you need to calm down.” Lucien’s head fell, he took several deep breaths, “Listen, Tam. Like it or not we… you are now responsible for another life.”

Tamlin bristled at that, fangs starting to point through his teeth. Claws pressed against his skin, threatening to burst through. 

“Tamlin.” Lucien said slowly, “I know you don’t want to think about this, but that doesn’t change the fact that Spring is…” Lucien took another steadying breath, like he was falling apart at the news himself, “Spring is having an Heir.”

There were the words that crushed Tamlin even more. This… it wouldn’t be just another baby, but an Heir of Spring, a possible successor. A potential future ruler of the Spring Court. 

They had no choice but to think about this. 

“We will take this one step at a time.” Lucien moved his hands down to clasp his friends, thumbs rubbing the backs of his palms. 

Tamlin stared down at the dark fingers massaging gentle circles into his skin. He closed his eyes, the headache pounding harder. He was so fucking tired. 

“This is awful.” Tamlin whispered into the space between them. 

“I know Tam.” Lucien murmured, his voice near drowned out by the sounds of laughter in the distance. 

He felt like he might collapse. A headache pushed into his temple. He noticed a flicker of movement, and then saw that it was in fact a butterfly, small and blue and clueless. Making laps around their heads. 

“It’ll be okay.” Lucien reassured him. It was false, they had no idea if it would be okay. 

***

It was not okay. 

It was absolutely not okay. 

He had a headache all the time and sleep became a luxury he apparently could not afford. All of a sudden complaints pushed from all sides as bandits began to infiltrate the Southern and Western borders. Seeing quick money and easy blood to draw. 

Many of the servants and sentries had left the grounds for other Courts in order to visit family after the Curse’s conclusion. With quickly hired, inexperienced staff, the grounds began to descend into chaos. 

Not to mention how everyone was coping. That being barely. 

Nowadays even into the dark hours of the morning, every hall was lit and not a single room didn’t have some form of a faelight and an open window. No one wished to be forced back into darkness, and everyone needed the reassurance of open, blowing air. 

The second Tamlin had stepped foot back into his office he was thrown back into work. Now, days didn’t end until he was near passing out from exhaustion and they started the second the ray of first light hit his face. 

He wasn’t the only one. Lucien he barely saw anymore, as much as the Fox of Prythian attempted to check on him, they both lost all sense of time. Unable to keep up with their workloads and desperately attempting to pull the Court back into order. 

With everything going on, Tamlin had yet to tell anyone about… it. 

Alis had tried to push for answers, but even with all her stubbornness, the female knew when she had to back off. The quick snappish answers and flare in temper were enough to tell her, it wasn’t time for her to ask what happened that day with the healer. But Tamlin could tell she was worried. 

With everything happening. Tamlin had forgotten the last time he even so much as laid eyes on Feyre.

He was sure he saw her during the nights at some point, but as everything merged into a dazed blur of work, work, work, he couldn’t be sure. 

That wasn’t even including the constant strain from symptoms. 

Vomiting, and headaches were just the start of it. At times he could barely keep his eyes open even after hours of sleep. If he stood too quickly, all blood rushed from his head and black spots filled his vision. Random outbursts became more prevalent, everything setting him on edge. 

"Dear Gods," He cursed, rubbing his temples. Elbows planted on his desk. Tamlin screwed his eyes shut as yet another wave of throbbing crashed over him. 

There was a light rapping at his door. Tamlin didn't need to look up as the door opened to know who it was. The scent of cinnamon spice was enough telling. 

"Tam." Lucien said tenderly. 

Without opening his eyes, Tamlin said, "Lucien Vanserra, if the next words out of your mouth aren't, here is a giant cookie and hot chocolate, I will toss you over the border and back into Autumn."

There was a heartbeat of silence. 

Tamlin wouldn't throw Lucien back into Autumn, Tamlin quite liked Lucien. 

He would very possibly steal and hide all of his left shoes. Lucien was fully aware of that. 

Lucien left the office, and when he returned, he opened the door saying, "Here is a giant cookie and hot chocolate."

Indeed, he was carrying a tray with a giant chocolate chip cookie and two mugs of steaming hot chocolate that made Tamlin's mouth water when he saw them.

Lucien is a smart man. Everyone should be like Lucien, Tamlin thought. 

Setting the tray on the dark wood coffee table by the empty fireplace. Lucien sat down on the green velvet lounge. 

Tamlin left his desk and joined him. Settling into the soft fabric and hands immediately reaching for said cookie. Lucien smiled softly as he took up his mug. 

"Heilda said it would be more comfortable to shift to female form." Lucien said as he absentmindedly toyed with the handle. His voice was soft as he broached the subject, not wishing to provoke anger. 

Tamlin bit into the cookie and nearly moaned. 

To shift into a female form. To stay like that. It would raise eyebrows and suspicions. And good Gods, when he started to show-

No, not thinking about that. 

"So?" Tamlin asked. He knew he had to listen, he had to take into account the possibility of having an Heir for the Court. 

Gods, an Heir so soon. They just came out from Under the Mountain. It was all still fresh, too fresh. He could still see her eyes above him. Pushing him down into the sheets-

No. 

Not thinking about it. 

"So..." Lucien traced the rim of his cup with his finger, "Perhaps you should think about listening to her."

Tamlin's eyes snapped to Lucien's to find the fiery male staring right back. He lifted a perfectly groomed red eyebrow and waited for a response. One leg crossed over the other and head held high. 

Lucien didn't back down for anyone, not Beron, not Amarantha, and certainly not Tamlin. 

"Or perhaps I won't." I am a grown male, and I will make my own decisions, did not need to be said for Lucien to get the gist of it. 

"She is the professional, Tam." He hummed. 

"Don't call me that." Not now. Don't be gentle with me. 

Lucien put the mug down on the table, it banged as his hands didn't bother to control his strength. 

"Alright, this has gone on long enough." Lucien said, "We need to do something about all of this."

"What do you want to do exactly?" Tamlin snapped, temper flaring. 

"Gods above." Lucien rubbed his temples and Tamlin wanted to throw something. 

"Come up with a goddamn game plan, Tamlin. I want to know what the next moves should be. I mean, have you even told Feyre?" Lucien bounced his knee up and down. Tamlin thought that at any moment he might get up and start pacing. 

"Well I- there isn't anything that can be done Lucien!" Tamlin shouted, finally beginning to snap. He hated this. He wanted to be done with it. 

And he hadn't told Feyre. He didn't want to. He didn't want to talk about it. 

Like if he refused to so much as think about it, it wouldn't exist. 

Lucien opened his mouth, eyes blazing and preparing to yell. Then he cut himself short and snapped his mouth shut. Face falling back into carefully crafted blankness and eyes losing any emotions at all. 

Tamlin's claws nearly shot through his hands. Fire blazing through him, not just because of the subject at hand, but because of how easily Lucien put his mask on. Hiding his true thoughts so well. 

Tamlin wished for the courtier mask, but no matter how hard he tried there was nothing he could do to hide himself. 

Fuck this all. 

"You need to tell Feyre," Lucien said, crossing his arms. Relaxing back into the lounge, as nonchalant as ever. Tamlin hated it. 

"I don't need to do anything." Tamlin hissed. 

Lucien chuckled and claws finally pierced to the surface. He dug them into pillow beneath them, slowly counting back from ten. 

"What is so funny?"

Lucien picked up his mug again as he shook his head, "Sure you don't need to do anything Tam."

"Get out!" Tamlin shouted. 

Lucien rolled his eyes, he put his mug down and slid off the lounge gracefully. A swagger in his step as he left the room, as he passed through the threshold his hand caught the door. He tossed a seething smile over his shoulder and said, "Figure it out on your own then, but figure it out, Tam."

Lucien slammed the door shut before Tamlin could yell at him. 

***

Feyre wasn't happy. She didn't know when she started feeling this way, when the total weight of how she felt finally settled into her bones. Like mist in the morning, it descended slowly until she was consumed by it. 

She couldn't look the Fae around her in the eyes anymore. Not without seeing the Faeries she had stabbed. The boy's screams filled her eyes at every ring of a bell or snap of a tree branch. 

And dear God, the girl who had prayed before she had ended her life. The words seemed carved into her skin, she heard them in the laughter and song of the Priestesses that came in groups for lunch after long days working in the Temple. Every time those swishing robes passed her by, she remembered that prayer. 

One of the Priestesses had taken a special interest in her. One of the twelve High Priestesses. Feyre knew little of how religion worked in the Fae Lands. The idea of Gods and such had never interested her. She had worked for too long back in the cabin to spend her time thinking of them. 

And if they did exist certainly the Mother was laughing at her.

As of now, Feyre stared out at the gardens. She was sitting by a small table on the porch, watching dahlias sway in the wind. The grounds were covered in them, they had been a flower Elain had grown back at the cabin and then at the new manor they resided in now. One of the only plants Feyre could pin-point. 

"I thought I might find you here." A voice said, breaking the silence. Feyre looked back over her shoulder and despite herself a small smile graced her lips. 

"Good morning Ianthe, shouldn't you be at a ceremony or such?" Feyre asked.

Ianthe chuckled, her voice and sweet face reminded Feyre a little of Elain. But her overall demeanor and strange stoniness reminded her of Nesta.  

"No, the girls are handling everything this morning. I have a break." 

Ianthe strolled over to where Feyre was sitting. She pointed to the chair opposite of her and asked, "May I?"

"Please." Feyre said. 

Ianthe gracefully slid into the seat, crossing one leg over the other. She did not wear her robes this morning. Her body still completely covered. However, the layers of her dark blue dress were lighter to account for the warmer weather this morning. A pale blue silk scarf covered her head so only a few curling blonde hairs fell around her face. 

"Did it hurt? The tattoo I mean." Feyre eventually asked. The tattoo of the phases of the moon, they interested Feyre. Whilst she now had a swirling tattoo along her arm, that one had been stained magically. 

Violet cruel eyes. Taunting hands and a laughing voice. 

No. Not thinking about him. 

Ianthe watched the swaying gardens as she answered. Her face was not cold, but it wasn't warm either. Like a stoic mother, Feyre thought. 

"Yes, but it was worth it to be given this honour." Ianthe answered. 

Feyre hummed, "Did you always want to be a High Priestess?"

Ianthe chuckled, finger tracing her knee, "My, my, many questions this morning."

The Archeron sister stiffened for a moment, "You don't need to answer if it makes uncom-"

Ianthe lifted a slender hand, she turned her full eyes back to Feyre and smiled, "I am teasing Feyre."

"Oh."

"As for your question, I always knew I wanted to be part of the Court. I worked well with the others. And I knew I could help this Court, the way the former High lord ruled he..."

Ianthe cut herself off as a darkness filled her eyes. Her mouth twisted into a straight line. Feyre furrowed her brow, concern beginning to creep in, "He...?"

Ianthe quickly shook her head and straightened, pulling herself from her thoughts, "He just... He wasn't a good male and I knew I could do something to help. As for becoming a High Priestess specifically I-"

Now a soft smile adorned her face as she lifted her eyes to the white sun's rays. 

"I have always had an affinity for the Mother and her creation." 

Feyre turned her own eyes back to the dahlia flowers. Blooming prettily as if not just months before the Spring Court had been ravaged and left in ruins. 

"The world is going back to normal." Feyre noted. 

Ianthe laughed suddenly, and Feyre snapped her eyes back to her. 

The High Priestess shook her head and murmured, "Nothing will ever be normal again."

"You weren't even here for the fifty years," Feyre pointed out, recalling what Lucien had told her before. How Ianthe's father had sent her and her sisters to the continent right as the curse was hitting. 

At her words Ianthe balled her dress up into her fists, "You don't know my story."

"Then tell me." I will listen, Feyre wanted to say. 

Out of the corner of her eyes, Ianthe watched her. Blue eyes like sapphires in the light, "You won't understand."

"Try me."

A shake of her head and an amused smile, "Count the blessings you have flower, appreciate them. For at any moment, they can all be taken."

Feyre blinked. Then her face fell into deadpan. 

What was it with Fae and their riddles?

Ianthe threw her head back as she laughed at Feyre's confusion, "Flower just know not to take the word of Faeries at face value."

Ianthe leaned back into her chair and Feyre asked, "Can you guys just... tell me what you mean?"

A sly smile and glinted eyes, "Now where's the fun in that?"

***

She hated her reflection. She stood in front of the mirror as Ianthe carefully placed a crown of daisies and dahlias in her hair. 

"Why dahlias?" Feyre had asked.

Ianthe had shrugged, "You seemed to like them."

They had gone through enough dresses to last Feyre a lifetime. She had never liked dresses and today did not change that. She longed for something she could move in. Felt like restricted in. But she sucked it up. 

Ianthe had brought in a myriad of different dresses for her to try. To find one she liked best. 

"Do they all have to be so..." Feyre had gestured to large puffy sleeve and Ianthe had snickered. 

"For the record these were the former Lady of Spring's dresses."

Feyre had gone very, very still at that. Guilt shocking through her at how she hadn't liked the look of them. 

Ianthe had then rolled her eyes, "Do not fret, child, the Lady hadn't particularly adored them either. But it is tradition to wear the dresses of the former Lady. This were the Lady of Spring's before hers, and before hers. Now they will be yours."

Ianthe had then reassured Feyre, "Just for today at least, then they'll go back into a bag and into the closet to sit for the next several centuries."

Feyre had laughed suddenly at that, and the knot of anxiety welling in her stomach had begun to ease. 

Feyre had then rifled through the atrocious amount of fabrics. And eventually her hands landed on one particular dress. It was the biggest of them all, with an atrocious amount of tulle, lace and puffs. It was beautiful, Feyre could admit as much as that. But it was... so much. 

Feyre had bit down on her lip, trying not to laugh. Then she had looked at Ianthe whose eye was twitching as she pursed her lips, desperately keeping her own laughter down. 

They met each other's sights and were helpless but to fall into hysterics. 

The dress had been laid on the bed, but Feyre had decided on a far simpler one. Long, green silk simple sleeves, and a high neckline that opened just above her cleavage. The corseted part of the dress was embroidered with gold designs and tightly hugged her waist. Her far too small waist. As Ianthe had tied the back her eyes flicked up to Feyre in the mirror, hands still on the strings. 

Feyre had looked down, Ianthe continued and neither spoke of just how frail she had become. The High Priestess occasionally opened her mouth to say something, just to snap it closed. Ianthe didn't appear to know how to comfort, how to reassure. So, she didn't try. 

Now the look was complete. Feyre watched herself in the mirror. The long green skirts of her dress swirled as she moved. 

"There." Ianthe said. Feyre met her eyes in the mirror. 

"Are you ready?" She asked. 

Feyre didn't answer. She thought back on that day in the field when Tamlin had proposed to her, how happy she had been. How in so long the memories of Under the Mountain hadn't haunted her. 

Yet after all was said and done, it all came back. All had asked to show them the ring and expected her to gush about the future wedding and her engagement. Yet all enthusiasm had drained from her. Like the second Tamlin was not directly in front of her she no longer felt that passion any longer. 

It was just nerves. Nothing else. Once this day was said and done it would no longer bother her. 

"Yes."

Ianthe nodded, her eyes firm and set on Feyre through the mirror. A heartbeat passed and Feyre said, "We best be going then."

As she moved to leave. Ianthe put her hands on Feyre's shoulders, "One moment, my Lady."

The Cursebreaker furrowed her brow but remained still. Ianthe didn't break eye contact as she swiftly pulled a necklace out from underneath her robes. It swung from her neck, a beautiful green emerald that shone in the light. It was small and hung from a golden chain. 

Feyre blinked, opening her mouth to ask what was happening. But Ianthe answered her question, as she unclasped the necklace and swiftly placed it around Feyre's throat. 

"Ianthe-" Feyre started. 

"Take it, Cursebreaker." As she let it hang from Feyre's neck she murmured, "You may need it."

"Need it?" Feyre whispered. 

Ianthe just smiled, "Trust me."

"You said yourself not to take the words of Fae at face value." Feyre countered. 

"I did." She stated. 

Before Feyre could once again point out the blatant hypocrisy, Ianthe said, "Try to see past the person, Feyre. Try and see what may lay underneath."

***

He hated his reflection. Standing in front of the mirror whilst Alis fixed his hair and jacket burned a flaming rage deep in his core, but there was little he could do. Other than stand still and allow the Summer Faery to do her work. 

"You look very handsome." Alis smiled up at him as she stepped back, admiring her handiwork. 

Tamlin tried to give her a smile back, but he could only manage a weak nod as he stared at himself. 

Shell of a person. Eyes sunken from lack of sleep, skin unnervingly pale, gaunt, hollow. 

At least the suit was well made, tailored, green with whites and golds. Alis had braided flowers through his hair and dusted his face with just the slightest of makeup, she told him it was for the look to come together perfectly. But he knew it was to coverup the deadness in his face. 

The lesser faery opened and closed her mouth. Eyebrows furrowing. Tamlin nearly groaned. 

"What is it, Alis?" 

"Are you sure you're okay?" She asked, brushing away a speck of lint from his shoulder. Tamlin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

"I am sure." He said, finally turning away from that godforsaken mirror. He faced the door of his bedroom. Lucien stood there. Dressed to the nines in green. Far more understated than Tamlin but just as gorgeous. 

"Ready?" Lucien asked. 

Tamlin shifted under his piercing gaze. The Fox scrutinized every inch of him, he was on display, wholly and completely. 

"I'm fine." Tamlin settled to say. He wouldn't admit how he felt sick to his stomach and the fluttering of anxiety was threatening to send running to bathroom to throw up once again. 

He held strong. He wouldn't be made weak. No matter how weak he truly felt. 

Lucien didn't believe that for a second. But he said nothing as he moved from the doorway and said, "Well then, the wedding is on in less than five minutes."

Feyre hesitated from her place at the end of the aisle. 

Her eyes agitated, hands shaking. Tamlin held his breath. She looked beautiful, but Feyre was always beautiful. A ring of flowers adorned her head, her eyes held the wedding venue before her. 

Ianthe was the one she watched; Tamlin risked a glance at the Priestess who watched Feyre closely. Slowly she raised a hand, and with a soft voice beckoned, "Come, Lady of Spring."

Feyre loosened a breath, her chest rising and falling with measured, calculated breaths. She took a step forward and Tamlin's chest constricted. He sucked in a breath, and she took another step forward. The knot pulled tighter and tighter. 

He remembered when she had been dragged in by Attor. Tossed to Amarantha's feet. 

Panic had filled him. He had nearly fainted. Surely, she wasn't there, because he had sent her back. She was back in the human lands there was no possible way for her to have come Under the Mountain. 

Yet there she had been.

The image faded in and out. Shifting from Feyre's perfect, unmarked face to the bruised snarling face she had worn that day so many months ago. 

She took a step forward. 

He was going to throw up. 

Then she took a step back. 

For a second, for a fleeting moment, the knot in his chest loosened and he felt like he could breathe again. 

Then she took another step back. The knot tightened once more. 

Eyes widened, and whispers erupted in the crowd of Fae. 

Fuck. 

No. 

Like a rope pulled him forward, Tamlin took a step towards Feyre. The world slowed to one moment in time. She stumbled further back, shaking her head. And Tamlin stepped further into the aisle. 

Something snapped in her gaze. She turned on her heel and sprinted. 

There was a gasp, and hot white rage flew through the High lord. Filling his veins, breaking something that had been pulled taut for too long now. 

He nearly launched into a run after her. 

"Tamlin." Lucien hissed, as he lept forward and pulled Tamlin back. 

Tamlin turned around to snarl at him, but in a second they were gone. Winnowed. 

Tamlin shouted into the darkness that enveloped them. And by the time they landed he was screaming curses at the red head. Lucien didn't seem to care. 

They were in his study. The window were open and sunshine was pouring in. Yet the house was empty as the grounds descended into chaos as the groom and bride had each disappeared. 

"Why did you-" Tamlin shouted, but Lucien snapped. 

"She was running away, what were you going to do?! Grab her and force her to marry you!" Lucien shouted, whilst pointing a finger into Tamlin's chest. 

"You-"

"Don't start with me Tamlin! We will find her, but for now calm the fuck down!" 

Tamlin blinked, initial rage simmering into something else entirely. 

What just happened. 

In the span of a few seconds, he had gone from jittering at the altar, watching his bride, then watching her run from him as he attempted to go after her.

He must have looked as shocked as he felt, because Lucien put a hand on each of his shoulders and guided him to the lounge. 

"Sit." Lucien ordered, Tamlin obeyed. Staring into nothing, mind horribly blank. 

Eventually one smaller thought came to mind, "I thought I wasn't allowed to winnow."

"You can in short distances, I spoke to Heilda. But she recommended it be someone else doing to actually winnowing."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Lucien sat down on the arm of the lounge. 

"What do I do now?"

Lucien stared at him and for the first time said, "I have no idea."

***

"Feyre!" 

Feyre didn't respond to the call. She crossed her arms and pressed further back into the trunk of the tree she was sitting in. Her knees bent, keeping her curled into the branch and just out of sight. 

"Feyre oh sh- Mother lead me." Ianthe hissed as she caught herself from cursing, "Where is that girl?"

Feyre craned her neck to look down. She saw Ianthe holding up her pale blue robes in one hand and her shoes in the other as she trod through grass and mud. 

"Feyre! I know you're out here somewhere!" 

Somewhere indeed, currently right above her. 

Ianthe screwed eyes shut and sighed deeply, "Couldn't have run somewhere inside, no we had to go out into the forest."

Despite the guilt and shame, the anxiety and hurt knotting and writhing in her stomach, threatening to make her lose her breakfast. Feyre chuckled. 

Bad decision, as Ianthe straightened, her fae senses alerting her to the sound. 

Ianthe whirled her head back and forth, "Feyre?"

Feyre had the muffle her laughter with the palm of her hand. But it wasn't enough to escape the hearing of the High Priestess. 

Finally, Ianthe furrowed her brow and looked right up. Her confusion fell into deadpan as she saw the Cursebreaker nestled in a branch. 

Mouth pursing, Ianthe gripped her robes a little tighter then asked, "Flower why are you in a tree?"

It hit her again. 

As she had walked down the aisle. Seen the people, the faces staring and waiting. Seen Tamlin watching her. Then had seen Ianthe. 

Permanant. Permanently stuck here. Permanently with the memories. Seeing everyone watching, like they had watched Under the Mountain. 

That prayer had rushed through her head again. And she saw their faces when she stabbed them. 

"Feyre?" 

Feyre looked back down to Ianthe, but gritted her teeth and did not answer. 

"Feyre." Ianthe said, deadpan, "Do not make me climb a tree."

Still Feyre remained silent whilst she brooded on her branch. 

Ianthe's eye twitched. And finally she sighed heavily, mumbling something about the Mother punishing her. 

"Fine! Fine." She said, dropping her shoes and letting her robes down from her hand. 

Then Feyre watched as the pristine, tidy, and uptight High Priestess of Spring, grabbed onto a branch and planted her foot into the trunk. Climbing the tree. 

She nearly slipped and fell, a curse nearly falling from her lips before she caught herself. 

Her robes got caught on a sharp piece of bark and there was a ripping sound. Ianthe made a disgusted sound, before she climbed up higher and higher. 

Finally, after clumsily forcing her way onto a branch right beside Feyre, she sat down. Panting heavily. Then she checked the small hole made in the hem of her robes. 

She gritted her teeth but ultimately let it fall away as she faced why she came out here. 

"Feyre, lovely spot you have here." Ianthe said, sarcasm lacing her voice. 

"Thanks, picked it out myself." Feyre snapped. 

The High Priestess sighed, "Feyre, you have to come down."

"Yes, I have to go down. And I have to go back to the wedding, don't I?" She snapped. 

Ianthe observed her for a moment, before shifting uncomfortably. Stoic face seemingly trying to figure out what the best course of action was. Thinking logically, no doubt just wondering what the quickest way to get Feyre back to the wedding was. 

It struck her that Ianthe didn't actually care what Feyre was feeling. She was doing as she was told, no other reason. It made Feyre feel all the more alone. 

Back in that dungeon, with nothing to keep her company but her will and a bargain. 

"Do you... Do you not wish to marry him?" She asked. 

Feyre gritted her teeth, she screwed her eyes shut. Darkness pressed in and she remembered the Attor dragging her into the throne room. 

She wanted to scream. She wanted to forget anything that ever happened. She wanted to go somewhere none of it ever touched her again. 

"Feyre-"

"Just go away Ianthe I don't want to speak to you!" She shouted. 

Ianthe bristled, "I am just trying to help-"

"Well you aren't!" 

Now, her face iced over. Stone cold and fed up, "We have to go back, now either we can go willingly together, or I will get the sentries and they will drag you back."

A tremor ran up her spine at the threat, "I don't want to go back, Ianthe."

Ianthe loosened a tight breath, "Feyre, let's go home now."

"No."

"Archeron-" Her tone was warning. 

"I don't- I don't want to go back." Feyre insisted. 

Ianthe scrunched her nose slightly, eyebrows furrowing. Then her face evened out and her voice sweetened, "Feyre, we must go back."

The sudden change in tone, in face, a lure. An attempt at false comfort. The Priestess held out her hand. 

Feyre looked at the pale hand before her. 

Then at the ground. 

Back to the pale hand. 

Feyre reached out and Ianthe smiled. 

The Cursebreaker batted her hand away with enough force that Ianthe shouted but nearly fell off balance. Giving Feyre enough to time to jump to the forest floor and bolt. 

"Feyre Archeron!" Ianthe clung to the branch as she watched Feyre's form disappear further into the dark forest. 

Slowly she took inhaled, before releasing her breath. She closed her eyes and asked the sky, "Why, why, why, why, why?"

Feyre ran and ran and ran. She lost a shoe but she didn't care. The feeling of dirt underfoot somehow comforting. Reminding her she was still there and breathing. In the wind, in the open space. Not in that cave, not Under the Mountain. 

Yet still there. Always there like it followed her. A ghost of those months looming over her head. 

She reached a clearing of grass and wildflowers. She fell to her knees. Legs unable to hold her any longer. 

She shook, trembling hands and arms. She should've been able to run faster and far further than that. 

But looking at her arms, they were spindly. Her legs which were sticks compared to what they had once been. She felt her cheeks, her face which was hollowed out. 

Her fingers to skinny, her organs pressed against the skin of her torso. 

When was the last time she had eaten? Had felt the urge to eat anything?

She licked her lips, her throat dry. The air was suffocating. Pollen that was sickeningly sweet. Air open, without any end. 

A part of her wondered whether she had ever come out from Under the Mountain, feared, dreaded that at any moment she would awaken. 

She heaved a sob, cries racking through her too fragile bones. Like she was made of glass she trembled. 

Feyre felt like she was made of glass. Like at a single touch she might crack and fall into a thousand pieces and never be able to be put back together again. 

'Make it stop.' She cried in her mind, sniffling, 'Someone make it all stop.'

'Take me away.' She pleaded with nothing. 

There was the sound of stick cracking underfoot and Feyre's head snapped up. 

But instead of Ianthe or sentries, violet eyes shone down upon her. 

"Hello Feyre Darling."

"You!" Someone shouted, Rhysand and Feyre looked up to see Ianthe panting as she pointed to Rhysand. 

Feyre had never seen her quite so dishevelled. But rage lined her features. 

Rhysand however, simply smirked, before grabbing Feyre's arm as she screamed. The Night Lord lifted her tattooed hand and pointed to it. 

"Don't mind me, pretty Priestess, I am simply collecting."

And just like that. 

Rhysand winnowed them away. 

***

"What do you mean she's gone?" Tamlin asked, voice near breathless. 

Ianthe's eye was twitching relentlessly. She looked as though she had been dragged through a thorn bush. Then again if she had run after Feyre she may have been. Stick and leaves were stuck in her hair, some parts of her robes were torn. And dirt smudged her cheek. 

"I mean she was whisked away by the Night Court." Ianthe said, "Our worst fears came true, and Rhysand made good on his word."

"Bastard son of a bitch." Lucien cursed from behind Tamlin. 

Tamlin said nothing, unable to move. His eyes turned to Alis by the door who looked between the Priestess and the High lord with sympathetic eyes.

Slowly it lapped at his core. Rage that made his eyes start to black out. His hands trembling by his sides. 

Chest rising and falling quicker. 

Ianthe looked him up and down, then said to Lucien, "I'll leave you two to deal with this. I am going to have a six-hour long bath."

In a second the Priestess was gone. Alis following after her.

"Lucien, get out." Was the only warning Tamlin gave him. 

Lucien's eyes went wide, and he sprinted out the door, slamming it closed. 

And Tamlin's magic exploded in a second. 

The High lord screamed as his magic ripped through him. flooding his veins with uncontrollable, overwhelming power. He screamed and fell to his knees. A ringing filled his ears, his vision went white. 

When it resided, a sob wracked his body as shaking overtook him. His skin heated, getting hotter and hotter until his clothes were soaked with sweat. Trembling, Tamlin tried to pull himself to stand, but he suddenly doubled over and threw up. 

The door flung open and Lucien shouted something he couldn't hear. The world was a swirling, dizzy haze of nothing. 

Someone gasped and Tamlin looked up to see Alis sprinting for him. The female cupped his face, and Tamlin blacked out.

Link to chapter 2 is here! Link to chapter 3 is here!

#acotar #acotar au #tamlin #pro tamlin #feyre archeron #feylin #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #eris vanserra #pro eris vanserra #ianthe #rhysand #religious lesbian icon ianthe #elain archeron #nesta archeron #tamcien #the band of exiles #acomaf #acowar #tamlin's daughter #acotar headcanons #a court of thorns and roses #fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #anon request

[existslikepristin]

Okay, so I had someone send me an ask last night and now I've been thinking about it all day. It wasn't anonymous, which I appreciate, but I'm not responding to it directly for because

I reached out already to say I'd do some editing, and I've let them know the rest of what I'm about to rant on below, but I want to make sure at least a few more people see this

I flip flop around on how to say this shit all the time. Like, do I say that everyone's a good writer in their own special way? Do I say that you don't need likes and reblogs for validation? I don't fucking know what to say except for maybe one more thing that I'll reiterate until the day I die with various embellishments that will fade in and out

You. Yes you, the person who's reading this who is also a writer/aspiring writer. Come closer. We share a bond, you and I, so really get in physically close

Art can't be contained, you scrunge

If you don't think whatever you're creating is art, go to a damn museum. Or do a virtual tour. Or google the phrase "modern art". It doesn't matter. You're going to see some shit in there that, I would hope, makes you think the artist was a dipwad

I'm ranting more than I thought I would. Here's a keep reading line

You know who fucking sucks at art? Pablo Picasso.

Look at this absolute pile of bullshit, then look me in the eye, and tell me this isn't the colorized manifestation of an elementary school dropout's Wattpad account

"But ELP, Picasso demonstrated actual working knowledge of anatomy. This is just his AbstRACt sTyLe"

SHUT UP. Nobody asked you, Barbara

Picasso, Piet Mondrian, Andy Warhol. Their artworks are money laundering schemes. Their fame doesn't come from their talent. It comes from obscenely rich people trading blood diamond money for crisp, clean, still-fake money by claiming that poor people "don't get it"

And yet, despite popular opinions being developed because of ridiculous sums of money being pegged up these guys' assholes, artists today still find meaning in their works, tunneling straight through their cognitive dissonance to tell themselves that, no, I actually enjoy staring at blocks of washed out color until my retinas have burnt in just the right spots that I can see an actual human face because an art teacher once told me that these pictures got the most likes on the pre-internet Tumblr

Does that mean people don't actually like this art? Am I trying to tell you you shouldn't like this art? Maybe, but then you'd be obligated to remind me that Churchgirleum Yawjinius is a disgusting assault on your imagination and yet has as many likes as Definitely Real Medicine, which you wouldn't believe was actually written with all the earnestness my void of a chest cavity could muster

Take it from someone who willingly threw away the opportunity for automatic dozens of reblogs and hundreds of likes per post by telling people to fuck themselves (and still gets a bunch for some reason):

The validation is cool, but it's not worth it

The validation does not define what is good or not

What is good or not doesn't even matter

You're not going to make money off this shit

Someone who is genuinely terrible is going to get more validation than you, and is going to flaunt it in your face, and their writing is still somehow going to mean something to way too many people, and it doesn't matter because their soul is just as unfulfilled by the validation as yours is unfulfilled by the lack of it

What is fulfilling is doing something because you can

You are your only source of real validation, no matter what fuzzy dopamines you get from the vapid click of a like button

Oh, and if you do get the validation of Tumblr notes, that doesn't mean your work is shit or you don't deserve love or whatever. Accept it graciously because it's definitely not uncool that people like your shit, but recognize that it's not going to cure your depression

Art is art. We can look at Roman columns and marvel at how their art built modern civilization (though the Romans can fuck themselves IMO (oh wait they literally did haha)), but did it really? Art makes otherwise brutalist architecture tolerable, but the curly Qs at the bases and tops of columns isn't what kept the coliseum from collapsing on thousands of people watching live murder

If you have a story that has overstayed its welcome in your head and needs to be on paper or on a screen, then write the fucking story. Nobody actually cares about the qUaLiTy of your spelling or grammar. They care about being given permission to think about Karina's tits. Do you think their opinion matters?! I mean, they may have great contributions to make on their own, and they should have voting rights, and it's chill if they have something nice to say to you, but the point is that they're already thinking about Karina's tits regardless of your writing. They're just your thralls to manipulate into thinking about Karina's tits in the way that you, the all-powerful artist, want them to think about Karina's tits. If they try to tell you "Karina's tits would have tan lines" then write a whole fic about how Karina is a nudist and has a perfectly even tan, and who's going to argue about it? The idiot who wrote a pedantic comment? No! It's YOU. THE ALL-FUCKING-POWERFUL ARTIST WHO ACTUALLY MADE SOMETHING TO PROVE YOUR POINT WHETHER OR NOT IT IS CORRECT

If you're an artist, then fucking act like one. Embrace the chaos inherent in creativity. Maybe gentleman is vampire. The poison contains joy. We exist in these devastating, beautiful worlds of contradiction in which we hate people and how lonely we are, we crave kindness and embody violence, and we beg the universe to give us direction despite knowing full well that we're going to zigzag between paths. Maybe you relate. Maybe you don't. THAT'S THE POINT. You're not right. I'm not right. We both write (wow, bars)

I keep saying that everyone should just write, and it's not because I think everyone is secretly a good writer. It's because someone out there needs permission to write after being told their entire lives that their value lies in A, or they're not good if B by all the non-artists in who genuinely don't understand why someone needs to make something impractical to begin the infinitely long road to completion

The dumb fucks who don't understand want to contain you because it's in their nature to desire order. They like to come up with metrics to categorize what counts as art and what doesn't so they can change the rules on you. Chaos always wins though

So WRITE. The world doesn't need your artistry. YOU DO. If you write a bunch of shit and people like it but you quit anyway or nobody likes it and you quit, then idk. Maybe you weren't an artist in the first place, which is perfectly fine, or maybe you're giving your corporate overlords too much control over your mind. If you're an artist, you'll burn with the need to create, no matter how much you create. If you feel that, keep writing

[donaidk]

INQUISITIONE - PIERRE GASLY Part I

This was the first ever fic I posted here on Tumblr or anywhere else as a present for @x-lipstickstain-x. Always was one of my faves even if I abandoned it once I got myself way too deep into other fics as well. Now it's time to give it a makeover, rewriting every part and adding a few bits and bobs cause my style got better since and I'm not scared to admit it was rushed at a few bits. Hope you guys will enjoy it 🧡

Now reading: Part I (- | Part II)

Masterlist

Travelling to Monaco wasn’t exactly part of my plans, right until my invitation for the Laureus Sports Awards Ceremony. It wasn’t exactly unexpected as there has been chatter going around about a possible nomination for my performance in the last year. However, from the moment I had to miss out on a few dates in the championship calendar thanks to injuries and precautions it seemed like my chance faded away slowly but surely. Even after getting the invite the idea of getting to take the award home never crossed my mind, mostly thanks to my own brother. Julien being a well known name in the same sport on a lower level and loving to act like my manager meant our work was almost the only topic we seemed to discuss. He was always a strict person, more with keeping me in top shape than anything else in his own life, which often unfolded in using missed opportunities as a crude type of motivation. In this exact setting, he never let me forget that I would be missing out on a prestigious award because I just wouldn’t push through setbacks hard enough. His words for ‘you will get there next time around, don’t worry’ as I like to imagine.

That said, the invite was almost swept under the rug as I suspected it would just be a night of heartache and longing right until Julien caught a whiff of it. I could partially agree with him that not attending was a sore loser type of choice, but I wasn’t embarrassed to accept that it’s exactly how I was feeling. Like a sore loser. Even as I was getting ready for the evening my brain was struggling to understand how Julien managed to change my mind about attending. He tried using Charles being a guest of the event, someone who he was great friends with since they met a few years ago and who I tolerated but only considered as an acquaintance. It somehow worked in a way that we decided to accept the invite just for him to be my plus one, giving him a chance to spend some time with Charles who according to Julien was happy about the news during their next phone call.

My only relief was that Julien agreed to get a hotel room instead of staying with Charles, being crammed into a typical small Monaco flat being a nightmare of mine. Having our own rooms gave me the breathing space I sometimes needed from him and meant we could have our usual very different routines without them clashing and causing arguments like usual. It was almost a mystery how people could even guess we were siblings, with all the differences from our personality and mindset to how we looked. Patience levels being one of our biggest differences.

“ Are you finally ready? ” I heard Julien from the living room of the hotel room. He showed up half an hour ago, stating that we’re gonna be late even though we still had an hour to get into a car as we previously planned with the intention of arriving early.

“ You were the one who was too early. ” I rolled my eyes while clasping my earrings and standing up from the little desk that had all of my makeup and hair stuff on it. “ Does your patience really not exist or is it just me who doesn’t deserve any of it? ” I asked him as I stepped out of the bedroom only to get one of the bags that had my heels in them.

“ Don’t start it. Today should be a calm evening. ” He stood up, just missing my eye roll, stepping to the door while I slid my feet into the shoes and followed him outside as soon as I had my jacket in my hands. I wasn’t planning on catching a cold, even though Monaco was usually warm. It was February, and we were lucky enough to be met with quite cold weather for the weekend of the event. “ You look good. ” He added as I made sure the door was closed but then walked past him, without taking a look at him.

’ You’re not saving it with that. ’ I shook my head at my thoughts, rather just looking forward and calling the elevator as we got to it. Sometimes I hated how cold we could be to each other while just a second later we could joke around with grins on our faces. The rarer exchange between us. It was truly a strange siblingship we managed to build up. I couldn’t even call it a usual brother-sister situation. Even if on most days he truly acted like an older brother, looking out for me and making sure I wasn’t hurt by anything or anyone. There just should have been more of that than anything else he decided to add to our lives. “ Charles meeting us at the venue? ” I asked once the silence in the elevator took a toll on me.

„ I think so. ” He shrugged a little, stepping outside as we arrived and went to get us the car that was promised. “ He said he’s gonna text me if he arrives or decides to get a car with us. Which he didn’t do yet, so I’m guessing he will meet us there. ” He checked his phone again, letting me leave the building first after he opened the door. I got my jacket on my shoulders, as my dress was quite open, and followed Julien to the car that was parked next to the building.

He and Charles met at a sports event two years ago, becoming friends instantly. Since then they have spent quite some time together, visiting each other in Monaco or France, and even going on vacations when they had a break at the same time. It was quite rare, as the F1 winter break was the main part of our season, leaving only the summer break for them to travel together. Somehow I never really got close to Charles, even though I did spend time with them when they had a plan together or were spending time at our apartment while I still lived with Julien in France. I never had a problem with him, he was a great guy. We just never really connected and needed each other's company when we had the chance to be together.

Ten minutes later we were already at the venue, the opening of the car door yanking me back from my memories immediately. We managed to enter the building without any hold up, showing our passes at the entrance and deciding to walk around a bit so we could check out everything before we would have to sit down at our table. It wasn’t long before we both got a glass of champagne and found some skiing friends we stopped to talk to. Julien was in the middle of one of his interesting stories, that we probably already heard from him like four times when I spotted Charles coming our way from the other side of the room. I poked my brother on his shoulder to get his attention, almost getting a glare from him in exchange before he spotted his friend and a grin crept onto his face. He still quickly finished his story, before excusing us out of the conversation and leading both of us to Charles. I didn’t really plan on following him but he made it visible that he wanted me to be by his side so I won’t get lost in the crowd.

“ Welcome to Monaco, guys! How have you been? ” Charles grinned at us as we finally stood in front of him, greeting both of us with a short hug. He wasn’t alone though, a stranger standing next to him, with a glass in his hand. Although his face was familiar, I couldn’t really connect it to a name in my head. However, they didn’t really pay any attention to him as they started talking immediately. It was quite awkward to stand there looking at either each other or my brother and Charles. Luckily one of the hosts saved the moment, by requesting everyone to take their seat at a table, making us walk towards the sitting area. We walked next to each other, following Julien and Charles, not really knowing how to handle the situation, before getting brave enough to finally open my mouth.

“ I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Fleur, Julien’s sister. ” I turned to him when we had to wait for the queue to move. If it would have been on the two idiots in front of us, we would have ended the night not even knowing each other's names.

“ Pierre, Charles’s childhood friend. Although you wouldn’t be able to tell. ” He let out a laugh looking at his friend who was so deep in the conversation with my brother that he almost tripped on his own foot. The scene made me shake my head with a smile as we followed them through the crowd to an empty table with six chairs next to it in a half-circle shape.

The two of them straight away sat down on the farthest two of the chairs next to each other, not leaving space for Pierre who in the end chose the chair on my left as I got next to Julien. I was trying to get my jacket behind me, somehow getting it stuck every time I tried, when he took it from me and in a swift motion smoothed it onto the back of my chair. I thanked him with a quick smile, looking back forward as the hosts appeared on the stage to start the whole event.

“ I never thought I would feel such a third wheel in my life again. ” Pierre whispered to me almost ten minutes into it, as Charles and Julien were still talking between them, not even caring about us.

“ You haven't spent enough time with my brother yet. He can make you feel like that even if you are alone with him. ” I sighed, looking at him as it wasn’t even that interesting on the stage. “ I don’t really like spending time with the two of them if there isn’t someone else with us. ” I shrugged my shoulders, as I took a sip from my drink.

“ He sounds like great company. ” He chuckled, making me smile too, although it was actually sad how little he cared about anything outside of his own feelings. But that’s Julien. You either deal with it or just leave him behind. “ I think Charles already mentioned you once. You compete in skiing, right? ” His question left me stunned for just a second, his interest surprising from someone who didn't exactly plan on meeting new people tonight.

“ Yeah. Some might call me a professional adrenaline junkie though. ” I was relaxed enough to let out a chuckle at my own joke and he seemed to be on board, a smile taking over his face.

“ Think I might know a thing or two about how that feels. ” He added with a huff of air, making me finally remember where I have seen him before. His face finally connected to a few pictures I have seen of Charles and him, as well as his name was in almost every story I have heard from the other F1 driver from our few meetings.

I suspected his interest would quite soon fade as the night went on but he seemed to be an active partner, both of us falling into an easy conversation about our sports and the lives we were in a way subjected to outside of it. It was evident he was subjected to the downsides of fame as F1 took up an ever growing part of the entertainment business but he didn’t seem to be affected by it as much as I had imagined at first. It was captivating how he talked about racing and driving those cars, making me actually excited to maybe watch some races in the upcoming season. It wasn’t something I never did, as I already watched some of the races, but it was never something I paid much attention to, mostly just turning it on as background noise. It took us a moment to finally connect the dots, but once he mentioned the team he was driving for I couldn’t hold back my smile as I mentioned I just got sponsored by Red Bull at the start of my season. It was a coincidence we had a good laugh about, confused how we haven’t heard more about each other before tonight.

“ You should come out to a race if you have time. It’s a lot better in person. ” He offered with a little smile and I was about to respond when Julien chose the exact moment to finally remember they weren’t alone and started talking to me.

“ You know, you should be up there. ” He bumped my shoulder with his, making me look up and realise they were just talking about my category. Someone who didn’t know him would have thought it was sweet of him, but I just knew he wasn’t finished. “ Maybe if you would have actually pushed yourself, you know. ” He added, with a smirk on his face as my smile faded.

“ Says someone, who still didn’t get any awards either. ” I bit back at him, trying to hide how uncomfortable it made me feel that he’s doing this in front of other people. My head started to boil although I got myself together in seconds.

„ Well, the male categories are a lot harder. But getting into yours should be effortless. ” He shrugged, making my jaw visibly drop, as I couldn’t believe that my own blood would make a comment like this. I saw the surprise on Charles' face too, but he didn’t dare speak up and I just wanted to get out of this conversation before I would regret my next action. I only saw him act like this when he was tipsy, but even his champagne glass was sitting more than half full in front of him.

„ Talk to me if you come to your senses. ” I told him, standing up and leaving the table as soon as I could, choosing to sit at the bar alone rather than stay next to him. “ Calm evening my ass. ” I muttered as his words from before we left the hotel immediately came back to me.

Drinking wasn’t exactly on my list of activities tonight, as I liked to keep it light during the season, but I rather ordered a light cocktail just to give the bartender something else to do than stand and stare after hearing our exchanged words just seconds ago. With him walking to the other side of the bar to prepare the colourful drink I could finally let out the breath stuck in my lungs, holding myself back from turning on the bar chair. I knew Julien would be content enough to stay put and leave me be, inside feeling like he once again won an argument. It was easier to deal with emotions without each other. Sometimes I really didn’t know what I was waiting for when I knew quite well how he can be, and how much he doesn’t know the limits that shouldn’t be touched. These moments made me understand why I moved away from and why I wasn’t on the same team as him anymore.

“ You okay? ” Pierre wasn’t trying to sneak up on me, but still managed, my heart jumping when he appeared next to me, already occupying another chair.

“ Yeah, just the usual. I’ll just leave him to it. You can’t be next to him when he’s in that mindset. ” I swirled my drink as soon as it was placed in front of me, looking at how it went around the wall of the glass. “ Or at least I can’t. ” I huffed out, putting the glass down before I would accidentally break it.

„ He will probably realise what he said was wrong. ” Pierre sent a calming smile towards me, making me smile too although it still felt sour inside. With a little nod, I tried changing the topic back to where we left off, hoping it would make me forget the last two minutes of my life.

It actually helped, talking to him calmed me down and just minutes later I felt like nothing bad happened today, and everything was perfect since I woke up. Pierre did have this effect, probably on every person on this Earth and also on me, that you just focused on talking to him and forgot where you were and what happened before you started the conversation with him. We went over how I started ski jumping and my journey until now, but we also touched on his career and what he did since he started. I never knew people who were racing cars as a job, so it was the first time for me to learn about how their lives actually look like. It wasn’t at all as glamorous as one would think in quite a few aspects. The event was slowly approaching its end when I started feeling how tired I actually was. The only thing I was dreading was me having to travel back to the hotel in the same car as Julien. I really wasn’t looking forward to it.

“ Think I’m gonna run before it really ends. I don’t really care about sitting in the same car as him. ” I sighed, not even naming Julien as I knew he would know who I’m talking about. “ A nice walk to clear my head further. ” I sighed once I realised we came here in the same car and it would be contracted to take both of us, subjecting me to either walk to the hotel as a cab won't even be worth it.

“ I can take you back. I don’t mind leaving a little early and Charles has his own car here, so he won’t mind me leaving either. ” Pierre stood up after me, making me look up at him. I didn’t really react to him at first and I could see in his eyes that he was about to take back his offer, thinking he did bad.

„ I wouldn’t say no to that. ” I smiled at him gladly, taking my purse from the bar so we could go. “ Only if you truly don’t mind driving me and then getting yourself home. ” I added as I really didn’t want to be a burden on him.

“ I’m a driver, it won’t strain me. ” He let out a laugh, making me join in as we walked outside. It was a lot colder and even windier than when we arrived here. “ Oh, my jacket… ” I looked back as soon as it hit me that I left it inside. I was just about to go back, even though I hated the thought of having to talk to Julien as I had to take it from next to him, when my shoulders got covered with comfortable warmth and looking back forward I saw as Pierre let go of his own coat that was now on me.

“ Stay here, I’m gonna get my car and pick you up from here. ” He said before I could even react to him giving me his jacket, and the only thing I could do was wait while I watched him walk away, towards the parking lot. My surprise would have been evident for any onlooker, as I stood there clutching his jacket around myself and thinking about what was actually happening.

It wasn’t even five minutes later when he parked down in front of me and I got into the sportscar. I wasn’t really surprised that he had one but still, it took me off guard for a second before I shook myself out of it. He was a smooth driver, I didn’t have any problems with his style and he did get me to the hotel in one piece. I was actually sad when it was time for me to get out and say goodbye to him, but I really hoped we would meet sometime again, but couldn’t muster up the courage to ask for his number or offer mine to him. I would have gladly had a chat with him once in a while about anything though. He was a perfect conversation partner, next to whom you can easily mention anything without fearing his response.

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly fanfiction #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfiction #f1 #f1 fanfiction #pierre gasly oneshot #formula 1 oneshot #f1 oneshot #pierre gasly fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fanfic

[clarktooncrossing]

HELLO THERE PEOPLE OF TODAY AND ROBOTS OF TOMORROW! IT'S ME, CLARK!

Happy National Cartoonists Day, everyone! What, you didn't think my current computer crisis would stop me from celebrating the Holiday, did ya? Actually, it almost did. Y'see, despite this piece being drawn by hand, my computer's scanner wouldn't save the file onto my craptop. My computer's going through a processing error, meaning it's set to stop working any day now. Fortunately this hunk'a junk managed to work just long enough for me to upload the newest Sketch BOOM! Yes my friends, the Sketch BOOM is back! I figured if I could only post one thing for NCD it might as well be something covered head to toe with cartoons. Some pretty well drawn cartoons too, if you pardon me tootin' my own horn. It just feels so good to have drawn something, have it come out looking as good as it does, and to be able to upload it here on tumblr for you all to see. For the record though, screw tumblr's stupid@$$ upload size limit, I freak'n hate websites that do that! It makes me as mad as a blood-cursed Croczilla fighting a sentient mobile home, but we'll get to that in a bit. For now though, let's see what silly sketches managed to make their way onto the page, starting from the top left corner and making our way down.

Don't forget to be on the lookout for the Snow Conies, the tiny sentient species of snow cones that have invaded almost every part of the page! Can you spot all 8?

[1] DID SOMEONE SAY PIZZA? You wanna know what the downside is of drawing at the bottom of the page and working your way up is? You have tiny pockets of blank space that you're unsure what to do with. Such was the case was this corner, having been left blank after drawing #2. For a while I thought of filling the void with a cosmically charged Snow Conie in the same vein at Rosie, but the Cosmic Cutie was already part of the BOOM due to Discord shenanigans. Instead I opted for a Clarktoon that sadly hasn't been drawn in a while, that being the ever-goofy Pizza Monster. No doubt he was lured here by the scent of all the pretzel pizzas I've been eating lately. While he was here I decided to experiment with his expressions, adding more cheek to his smile. Honestly I think he looked better without them. Still, I'm happy to see him here as I hope all of you are. Now if only he'd stop hogging all the grub!

[2] EYE OF THE THERIAN Rosie isn't the only character here due to Discord shenanigans. At the beginning of every month my friend @Foxhatart opens herself up to sketch suggestions on her Kofi page. For the record, those of you wanting to help out another artist keep food in their bellies can click here. With a few of these Kofi slots still left open, Fox came to her friends asking if they had any ideas for pics involving her characters. Not knowing a ton about her characters, I joked that she ott'a draw her half-lemur girl Cath bench press a bus, her freakish strength having become a reoccurring gag via game nights. Funny as the idea was, I didn't expect Fox to actually do it. You can imagine my surprise when this popped up in my inbox a few days later. Consider this doodle a long overdue 'thank you'. Here we see the crazy Cath lifting weights with, of all peeps, Bumper! No doubt the little marshmallow's here for moral support since he can't actually build up any muscle mass. Ghost problems, am I right? Hope you enjoy this silly little sketch, Fox. Next time I'll have Cath bench-pressing your mortal nemesis; a train.

[3] TOOK ME LONG ENOUGH Despite what I said about Pizza Monster, he actually wasn't the last sketch to be included. No, that honor goes to the metal mercenary, the bodacious bot bounty hunter, the anarchistic anti-hero herself; Candy Banger! Much like the aforementioned monster I figured it had been too long since I drew Candy or really any of the robotic cast of 3K. Atop of that, Candy represented a good chance for me to use the stockpile of poses I've saved up from a thumb drive. Using one from a tumblr site called @posereference turned out to be surprisingly easier than anticipated, the only real flaw in the end being how I colored her. This is one of many coloring errors I made on this piece, Candy's hair looking more bluish purple than I had intended. Still, considering I drew her at all, I doubt Candy's complaining. Here's hoping I can draw more of her in the future, otherwise I might be riddled with bullet holes like that wall behind her. 

[4] AN AVERAGE DAY AT WHIMSYLAND And thus we've arrived to the first sketch of this compilation given to me by a friend, this one coming from @jackieariane. She and I both suffered during the Chapek administration of Disney, Jart regaling me with tales of when she dealt with rude customers at Animal Kingdom. It reminded me of when my friends AnimatedTigerGirl and RigbyH00ves worked at the Floridan Park too, all three of my companions having a surprisingly miserable experience. All these stories started melting together in my brain until I asked the question; what would happen if Brooklyn Nine Nine was set at Disneyland? Thus Whimsyland was born, albeit originally out of spite towards Chapek. I already detailed all this back in the DUDELZ from the Dumpster I posted earlier this year, but I failed to mention the human protagonist of this story, Wendy. Having been to Whimsyland once in her life at a young age, the young Vietnamese gal with OCD was immediately smitten by the place, vowing she'd someday work there. Spending the rest of her life researching the park and watching Matt Whimsy documentaries on uView, you can imagine Wendy's disappointment when she returned to the Perkiest Place on the Planet to find nothing was as perky. Whimsyland had lost its whimsy. It's here where she met Freddy Fox, the cartoon mascot of the company living in exile over how the house Matt built is being run today. In other words, what I'd imagine Mickey would be doing if he were real. Together these two kindred spirits are set to bring magic back to this wonderland! Overall I'm pleased with how the sketch turned out, though Wendy's face reminds me of my character Sue the Game Genie more than I'd prefer. Also, Fred Fox is way bigger than intended, no doubt I'll be changing that for future depictions of these two. For now though, this drawing has just enough Whimsy for my liking. 

[5] CROCZILLA: BLOOD CURSE More Discord Shenanigans! This time it's the result of a Dungeons & Dragons campaign that @burningthrucelluloid somehow roped me into yet again. Instead of robots and dragons set in a medieval fantasy however, this time it's elves and crocodiles in an approximation of the American south. One ruled by Jerimiah Strahd, a ruthless blood-sucking bastard that Alec based off Leonardo DiCaprio's character from Django Unchained. If that wasn't a sign of how crazy this campaign has become, here's an actual moment from the game. The heroic but hesitant human Jason (YoungSamurai18), the loud-mouthed scaredy cat Toby (Mr-Herp-Derp), and the silent but deadly Ed (void-android), and the equally hungry and adventurous Crocie (me, of course) were hunting for a witch named Bubba Lysiga when all of a sudden the witch brought her mobile home to life in order to attack our heroes. Worse still, she put Ed under mind control to attack his comrades. Croc got the worst of it, his HP dropping to 0 due to him falling from the house and getting stomped on by its gigantic set of wooden chicken legs. Did I mention this campaign gets strange? Well it got even crazier when a dark, shadowy entity housed in Croc's body suddenly gave him a recharge, the reptile taking the chance to mix a Heat and Growth potion he obtained earlier to become CROCZILLA! It was a moment Alec was hoping would happen in game and I didn't intend on disappointing. Same goes for this sketch, it mostly going just as envisioned in my head. The pissed off look on my green friend's face, the damage done to the rusty trailer that is the witch's house, the tiny silhouettes of Croc's teammates in said home, the heavy fog, the Earth-shattering roar in the background, it all came out great. Save for one detail. You'll notice that Croc's eyes are black with red irises in this pic. That detail's due to Croc having blood curse abilities, hence the dark entity sharing rental space in his body. As such, you'd think Croc's fire breath would be just as vibrantly red, but sadly that idea didn't occur to me until after I made the fire blue as well as the shine off every surface. Spam it! Still, coloring hiccup aside, I'm mighty proud of this pic! Hopefully so are the rest of the Barovian Bozos that make up my team. 

[6] WONDER ZIGGY, CINEPHILE FROM THE PLANET GARBONZA EVEN MORE DISCORD SHENANIGANS! Cut to a few months back and I was restructuring my Discord server, cutting down the multiple move threads it had before merging them all into one. Being the story-driven bozo I am, I quickly wrote a backstory for this thread involving an alien named Ziggy falling in love with the Earth B-Movies he was picking up on his deep space probe. So much so that he came down to our planet only to discover there were even MORE types of movies for him to enjoy! It overwhelmed him so much that he blacked out, awakening the next day having purchased a since abandoned drive-in theater on the outskirts of Clarksburg. Faced with this new impulse purchase, Ziggy followed the oldest piece of wisdom known to man or alien; Screw it. After a refurb Ziggy reopened the drive-in, screening B Movies and cinematic shlock to an appreciative public. And if you can believe it, I typed all of that out after thinking about it for five minutes. My brain is weird like that. All that said, it'd take a couple of RP sessions before I got his personality down, that being an MST3K character if the show were written by Joe-Bob Briggs. In other words, a surprisingly well educated weirdo with a deep love of Hollywood history. It'd take me a while longer before finally sketching him, basing him off the titular villain from Robot Monster, an appropriate design for someone who loves old, cheesy movies. All he was missing was a pink Hawaiian shirt and a cowboy hat. If you think he's strange, you should meet his wife Wanda, though let's save that for a future BOOM...

[7] LOOKIN' SPAM GOOD! What better way to show my friends I care than drawing them in ridiculous outfits? This sketch, the first to be included in this BOOM, is a merging of two repurposed ideas I had for other pictures. The first would've involved the Swedish menace Finjix with a fish bowl on his head much to the confusion of Alec, the recipient of a kawaii make over. I can't remember where the fishbowl idea spawned from but Sir Alec the Adorable came from him scoffing at the idea that I could make anything cute, himself included. Just you wait Alec, I'll get you someday! For now though I swapped out making him uber-adorable in favor of dressing him up like the Wasp from Earth's Mightiest Heroes, the awesome animated show he finally binge-watched on my behalf. Granted I could've drawn him as Maria Hill, the character on the show he deemed the sexiest, but it wouldn't have been as funny. After all, all Maria's outfit is a blue jumpsuit. Far less interesting than Jart's leather jacket, an image that popped into my noggin following her telling me she's learning to ride a bike. That and me desperately clinging onto the back as she gave me a ride, but that would've been harder to draw. Instead I went for the jacket, a fashion statement that would be stupid in real life since she lives in the infamously hot country of Vietnam. Yet even in the face of logic, Jart not only humored me but encouraged me to include this in the final sketch. Thank goodness she did cuz I love how it turned out, minus the green stripes that were accidentally colored black like the rest. DRATS! Not only that but she informed me that she was no longer using her fursona, instead opting to draw herself as a human from now on. DOUBLE DRATS! Ah well, I have more ideas involving 'Trang the Tyrant' as I've nicknamed her, so chances are I'll get the chance to correct both mistakes in the future. It might also give me another chance to draw myself as Super Giraffe, which was what I originally intended to do with my own fursona. Sadly the costume still needs work so instead I opted for my classic Pagonian Wizard robes. Even in the face of all these snafus, I think we all look spam good!

[8] ROSIE STARDUST, SPACE WIZARD Turns out I'm always right even when I'm spewing nonsense. Don't believe me? Plenty of peeps have made that mistake before. Take my friend Alec for example. In the midst of him running the current Strahd campaign I mentioned earlier, I jokingly tossed out the idea of Rosie transporting our heroes out of Barovia and into another universe. A cute 'What If' scenario the Dungeon Master wasted no time in shooting down. Mistaking my silly suggestion as a legit one, Alec explained how unfair it'd be for a god to play a game with a bunch of mortal meatbags. Let the record show that I never declared the sentient Einstein-Rosen Bridge to be a deity. Some alien cultures have mistaken her from one, but Rosie herself would be the first to tell you she's no holy being. Not that any of that mattered. Alec held firm to his statement, Rosie was denied access to any dungeons. For about six seconds before my buddy realized how a depowered Rosie would make a wonderful wizard for a Spelljammers campaign. Fueling this fire was his recent watching of The Owl House, imagining Rosie rocking wizard robes similar to those worn by The Good Witch Azura. Before I could say, "NOW EAT THIS SUCKA," he was leading the charge on my server of peeps demanding I draw Rosie as a space wizard. At first I was floored at the audacity! You shoot down an idea that wasn't meant to be taken seriously only for you to turn around and do so anyway? MAKE UP YOUR SPAM MIND! Then I followed Alec's example and got over it, the idea of Rosie in wizards robes too tempting a sketch not to capitalize on. In the end the only aspect of Azura that made it into the final product was the hat, minus the cute lil' crown. Everything else took cues from the fashion of @cherrysdesigns along with a style @girlofhearts101 turned me towards called whimsigoth. All of which resulting in an costume that gave Alec 'David Bowie Ziggy Stardust vibes'. It's thanks to that comment that Rosie now has a last name. Everyone, say hello to Rosie Stardust, universal explorer and space wizard!

[9] DIREKTOR AND 3D1T0-R Is there a Hollywood equivalent in the Star Wars universe? Some sort of glamorous planet where overpaid alien celebrities are shamelessly rebooting beloved classics for a profit? All while amazing writers are getting screwed out of the earnings they deserve? This was what I asked Alec during his binge watching of The Clone Wars. Surprising me once more, the Masked Maniac revealed that he had asked SIM-N the same question before, the two creating a character called The Direktor for their Monova comics. Her whole gimmick was producing hypnotic propaganda for the tyrannical Twin Emperors, a cool concept that never went anywhere due to the robotroll cutting From Destiny's Ashes short. Being the character man that I am, I decided The Direktor couldn't go to waste. Especially when she'd make such a good villain in the world of 3K and a good addition to this BOOM. After asking SIM-N for the character's original reference sheet I set out to give her a Clarktoon makeover while watching cutscenes of The Second Sister from Jedi: Fallen Order. No doubt Elizabeth Grullon's intimidating vocal performance effected my outcome, the alien movie maker now sporting a streamlined outfit along with a smugly sinister smile on her face. As apposed to her boss, the Direktor's little droid 3D1T0-R hardly changed in the transition. He was a little creepy ball to start and he's still a little creepy ball now. One that was cooked up by Alec according to SIM-N, which makes sense given our pal's passion for film editing. Once the two were fully drawn I decided to test out my shading and lighting techniques in an attempt to make her look more menacing. If the response I got from the others on Discord is any indication, I succeeded. Indeed, this fem fatale filmmaker will fit in phenomenally as a 3K villain. Now the question is to who? 

[10] JURAKISS Finally we conclude things with a sketch somewhat prompted by @zernna. Way back in August of last year she was commissioned to draw my cretaceous crusader Saura and her girlfriend Patricia enjoying a delightful day at the pool, a pic as charming as that description would imply. In my comment thanking Ze I couldn't help but laugh at how the two had already been declared a cute couple despite how I hadn't drawn the two together in my own artwork yet. The Alien Artist than demanded I draw 'moar art of them then', prompting me to ask if that was a challenge. She said yes. Though not from a lack of trying, it took me nine freak'n months to meet that challenge. Blame that on me being a picky artist since I have been meaning to draw references of these characters in the meantime. After all, Zerna got asked to draw Saura in other pics without having any color references for the Blue Beast of Fosslin. Fortunately Saura's shown up in a number of previous Sketch BOOMs, now getting to share the spotlight with Patricia here. A Patricia that would've been notably paler were it not for Alec asking if I had any markers that matched Patricia's skin tone. I didn't, but the local hobby store did! Who knew Sharpie made skintone markers? It not only helped me color in the cute Muslim girl here, but also Cath and Wendy later on. Talk about a perfect purchase! Now if only the colors of Patricia's outfit were as satisfactory. Ah well, there's always next time, since I'm pretty sure Zerna's challenge still stands. XP For now though, I hope you all enjoy this compilations of crazy scribblings fresh from my mind. If you didn't, worry not, chances are I'll be making another one soon....

MAY THE GLASSES BE WITH YOU ALL!

#ClarktoonCrossing #Clarktoons #National Cartoonist Day #cartoonist #The Owl House #avengers: earth's mightiest heroes #wasp #robot #Robot Monster #b movie #Pizza Monster #pizza #exercise #Foxhat #Cath #lemur #Therian #Therian Tail #Bumper #ghost #spooky #cute #Candy Banger #Crocie #crocodile #Croczilla #Curse of Strahd #dungeons and drawings #Bubba Lysiga #mobile homes

[astorytotellyourfriends]

Hi! So, random question, but is your url by chance a reference to the Every Avenue song? I ask because they’re probably considered an old band by this point, and I don’t think many people know them, but they’ve always been so special to me. In fact, in high school (soooooo 2013), I made one of my favorite art pieces to date and it was inspired by Picture Perfect (the song, not the album necessarily, although I do adore that album). I’ve never heard anyone mention them before, but if my favorite Hellcheer author was a fan, that would be like a celebrity I admire knowing a weird obscure book I really like.

And, yes, side note, you’re my favorite Hellcheer author. So few authors write what I consider to be an adequate smut-to-plot ratio (too much plot in relation to the smut, dammit), let alone smut that’s actually good, and yours is fan-fucking-tastic (this is not pressure to update, btw. As far as I’m concerned, longer time between updates means they’re that much sweeter when they come). Anyway, sorry for rambling, lowkey hope you’re a Every Avenue fan also, that would be insanely cool, love your fics and hope you’re doing well 💗

oh this just dropkicked me back to 2006 💀

yes! my url is indeed from the every avenue song and i've had it since that album came out in 2009 (really dating myself here oh god), though not on this particular blog. i switched the url from my og tumblr blog back in 2018 when i wanted to rebrand lol

every avenue was one of my faves back in the day 😭 i could go on and on about them (and my history with them) but i won't bc that's a long story lmfao but!! i'm so glad you made the connection!

and thank you for your wonderful compliments about my writing 🥹 i'm honored that i'm your favorite hellcheer writer! i am sort of on an impromptu posting break at the moment (which hilariously will be undone bc i'm posting a fic today) because my beta has a ridiculously busy work schedule this month, but it does in fact just mean that i'm hoarding a pile of updates that will eventually get released when she has the time to look them over 🥰

(unfortunately it also means i have no one around to tell me No when my brain comes up with new ideas... which i did... last night...)

#answered #imnotoverlyobsessive

[artikgato]

8/7/2023

7 days into the 8th month of the year probably isn't the best time to try starting a bunch of new things to try to turn my life around, but hey, at least I started on a Monday.

Back in May I spent about two weeks waking up at 5am every day (mostly) in order to get work done while the apartment was otherwise empty (my roommate has a very early morning job). I was pretty amazed at how productive I was for those two weeks. Animazement, and then moving to the new apartment, pretty much derailed that. And after the move a lot of things happened and so on and so forth, and I never got back around to trying to wake up at 5am every day, until last week. I had a couple of successful 5ams and a few failures, but then on Friday I decided that even if all I do is sit down with my coffee and scroll Tumblr or watch dumb Youtube videos or stare into space, I was going to wake up at 5am every day no matter what. I was getting too in my head about it, lamenting that waking up at 5am and not wanting to be productive was somehow a waste of time. Hopefully it sticks this time because let me tell you, yes waking up that early does suck but the world is so peaceful at 5am. Nobody else is awake both IRL and online. I can get so much done if I feel like it, and even if I can't I still get to enjoy the peace and quiet! And it's not 1000 degrees yet!

I'm also trying super hard to start writing at least 1000 words per day. I was doing that for a long time back during 2020 but things (surprisingly unrelated to the pandemic) happened and I fell out of the habit. Again, I was getting too in my head about it, because there were days, a lot of days, where I'd sit down to write whatever WIP I was struggling with and would fail to write. This is counting towards my 1000 words for today, even though it's just a silly blog post about nothing. It's still words. Hopefully this will stick, too.

And finally, I made myself put on clothing I could sweat in and left the house a little after 7am to go for a quick mental health walk. I've been in this new apartment for nearly two months now and I somehow hadn't bothered to explore the new neighborhood yet, which is weird because that's usually one of the first things I do! And even weirder, I knew there were three Pokéstops and a gym within easy walking distance and yet I had no interest in going to them.

When I tell you my depression has been bad for these last two months, I mean bad.

But anyway, the area is pretty nice as far as these things go. It's suburban sprawl, but there are some houses with cute gardens and there is a dog park. I also saw a cat! And yes, there are the three aforementioned Pokéstops and 1 gym. I left the gym red today, but tomorrow I intend to take it for Team Mystic. I also need to figure out how Routes work, because if I can set up a route between these stops and gym I will be 100% more likely to drag myself out of the house even on days where I don't want to.

It was nice out this morning. Well, there was 100% humidity because it rained last night, BUT there was a nice breeze and it was maybe 73 degrees at most, which is just downright chilly for this time of the year. I might have to start dragging my ass out of the house at 6am instead of 7am on days where it's going to be hot, though. And once winter sets in, I might be out jogging before dawn. I never ever thought I'd be the kind of person that goes out jogging before dawn.

Anyway, if for some reason you read to the end of this post, congratulations, I guess? And in the much more likely scenario that you are me from the future in, say, December... well, I hope you kept these up, future me. And even added more things to improve my stupid failing health and dumb broken brain!

Word count: 743

#mental health jogwalk

[beck-a-leck]

(Tumblr is being poopy and won't let me answer an ask so screencapping the ask and making a different post)

Here you go, Nonny! I hope you enjoy! Some Alice and Martin getting some sage advice from the Most Married Couple in town.

💜💜💜💜💜

Alice woke in a foul mood. No surprise, given the state she’d gone to bed in, but part of her had hoped that a night’s sleep, even if it was poor and broken, would have helped her mood a little bit. It hadn’t. if anything, it made her feel worse. She cried in the shower, angrily going over harsh words spoken the night before, thinking of better retorts and planning further arguments. She made too much food for breakfast, too used to cooking for two, and dumped the extra food in the trash. Eggs wouldn’t keep well in the fridge, and nobody would eat the leftovers anyway. She clomped down the steps to the office of the outpost and must have looked as prickly on the outside as she felt because neither Scarlett or Livia commented on the explosive argument they must have overheard the night before. With her patrol schedule assigned, Alice walked out of the outpost in something of a haze. She pointedly did not look up the road to see whether Martin was coming out of his house to go to the smithy for a day of work. As much as she missed her husband, his face was the last Alice wanted to see at that moment. She was still mad at him.

A full day of work later, her anger had finally burnt out. After patrols around town, and escorting travelers through dangerous territory, and clearing out an unexpected nest of violent monsters, she was exhausted. Emotionally and physically drained. But Alice didn’t want to go home. She didn’t want to spend another night alone. She was also too stubborn to go seeking out Martin to apologize. Alice knew she owed her husband an apology, but she knew he also owed her one. Alice put her head in her hands. She had a headache. She couldn’t even remember how the argument started, but it had been one of those times when enough little things piled up until the last straw broke the damn and everything came out. Nobody was right. Nobody was wrong. There was no winning an argument like they’d had. If Martin hadn’t finally stormed out they might have gone on yelling at each other for the whole night. People who loved each other weren’t supposed to fight like that, right? What did that mean for their marriage? “Alice? My dear, are you all right?”

Alice hurriedly sniffed and scrubbed at her eyes. She hadn’t heard Yuki walk up the path. “I-I’m fine, Yuki. Sorry, did you need something?”

“Well, yes, I came to check in on you. You haven’t been yourself today. People are worried.”

Alice felt even worse. She hadn’t realized her sour mood was bad enough to worry people around town. Yuki settled in on the bench beside her.

Not wasting time on small talk, Yuki cut right to the chase. “Scarlett mentioned you and Martin were fighting.”

“We had a bad argument last night.”

“Bad enough that someone slept on the couch?”

“Bad enough that Martin went back to his old house last night.” Alice sighed, and then a sob bubbled up from her chest, and then she was crying to confessing everything to Yuki.

The old woman patted her back soothingly and offered a handkerchief when Alice needed to wipe her eyes.

“I’m so scared, Yuki, what if this is the end of our marriage? What if we made a mistake marrying each other.”

“Do you feel that way?”

“No, but what if Martin does?”

“Has he said he feels that way?”

“No.”

Yuki patted Alice bracingly on the back. “Couples argue, Alice, a fight, even a bad one, isn’t the sign of a bad relationship. When you love someone so much, you know just the right things to say to hurt them the most, and they can do the same. You should have been there for some of the fights Randolph and I had when we were younger. There were times I was in the same place as you… times when I thought maybe this was it.”

Alice sniffed. “What do you do?”

“We took the time we needed to cool off. Then we talked about it. Didn’t always end in a hug and a kiss, sometimes we made compromises that ensured neither of us were entirely happy, but we always moved forward knowing that our love and our marriage was worth the work we were going to put into it so we could be together for the rest of our lives.”

“And what do you think I should do?”

Yuki thought for a moment. “I think you should take the time to look at things from Martin’s perspective before you talk to him. He’s not a cruel man, he doesn’t say unkind things for pleasure. If he said those things to you, he must have some reasoning behind them. You know him better than anyone. Take a minute to get into his mind, and then once you’ve done that, talk to him.”

“Thank you, Yuki, that’s good advice.”

“Hard earned from many years of experience.” She chuckled and got ho her feet stiffly. “I’ll leave you to it, dear. Oh, and Alice, a little apology present never goes amiss at a time like this.”

Alice thought for a moment longer before getting to her feet with renewed determination. She was exhausted and it was beginning to get late, but there was enough time and energy left for her to run one quick errand.

She finally returned home late in need of a shower and some dinner, but with a pocket full of quality ores. She’d done what Yuki suggested, and had put herself in Martin’s shoes as she hammered away looking for ore. It reminded her of one of their first dates, and that help her stay in a generous mood as she worked. She had turned over their argument and looked at it from every perspective, and she believed that now she was ready to talk it through. Now she just needed Martin to be ready to talk too.

 As she climbed the steps to the second floor, she found herself wishing she’d kept the breakfast leftovers because she didn’t have it in her to cook anything else today, nor did she have any desire to go to the restaurant. The scent of cooking food greeted her, grilled fish and seasoned vegetables frying, and something sweet in the oven. Martin was in the kitchen.

Their eyes met and they both looked away embarrassed.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” Alice responded.

It was like they were strangers again.

“There’s still about thirty minutes left on dinner… if you want to get cleaned up first.”

“Okay.”

Alice showered and changed into her pajamas and came out just as Martin was setting dinner on the table. He’d set two places. They ate in uncomfortable silence. Martin cleared the dishes.

“So… we should talk.” Alice broached cautiously. If he wasn’t ready for this, they would just end up yelling at each other again.

“Yeah.” Martin dried his hands on a dish towel and leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms tightly.

“Can I go first?”

Martin nodded, and Alice aired her grievances. She went over everything she’d thought to herself all day while she was working, and what she’d thought about after her talk wit Yuki. She finally ended with tears brimming in her eyes, “I don’t understand why all of a sudden you think I’m some precious porcelain doll that needs protecting Martin. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself now, and that won’t change in the future. You know that. You know what I’m capable of.”

“I know,” Martin sighed. “I’ve been unfair to you, I know I have. Alice, you are so precious to me.” And then he took his turn explaining his side of things. Giving Alice a look from a perspective that she hadn’t seen in her earlier musings. It showed her how much more she had to learn about Martin in their many future years together. “…You… you make me feel safe, did you know that? You give me this sense of security that I haven’t felt in a very long time. And I hate that because of the way it makes me think of you. I stop seeing you as a person, as my partner, as the love of my life, and I just see you as… as a security blanket. It’s not fair for me to put all of that on you, because you are your own person. And I hate that I need you so badly to feel safe. Because what if I lose you someday?! I… Alice I can’t lose anyone else close to me. People can just disappear forever, and I am powerless to stop it! But damnit, I try anyways, don’t I? And where does it leave us?”

“Martin…” Alice crossed the kitchen and wrapped her arms around her husband. He held her tightly, burying his face in her neck.

She hadn’t thought about this. Hadn’t thought about how the loss of his parents as a child would affect him now. Sometimes, because Alice could not remember her childhood, she forgot everyone else could remember theirs. They had histories that were more than a few years deep. They had depths to them that would take time to uncover because that’s how lifetimes were supposed to work.

Alice couldn’t, and wouldn’t, stop her work as a SEED Ranger and Earthmate. There were some dangerous tasks that only she could do. But to ease her husband’s fears, she could take efforts to be more careful. They could work together to craft the best armor for her.

They could move forward together.

It wouldn’t be easy or neat, but it would be worth the effort.

Alice pressed her forehead against Martin’s. “I love you so much, you know that. Marrying you has been the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“I know. I love you too. And I’m sorry. I hate fighting with you.”

“I do to… let’s just promise that when we argue we’ll both take five minute to calm down before things go too far. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” They kissed and held each other close.

#becky writes things #rune factory #rune factory 5 #rf5 #ask box games #writing prompt

[justasmisunderstoodasloki]

I posted 2,721 times in 2022

76 posts created (3%)

2,645 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@uglypastels

@grussell63

@bigilante

@miss--river

@dont-you-fucking-dare

I tagged 569 of my posts in 2022

#joseph quinn - 43 posts

#eddie munson - 35 posts

#the sandman - 31 posts

#andrew garfield - 27 posts

#legendary post - 26 posts

#loki - 24 posts

#joe quinn - 22 posts

#dear no one - 21 posts

#spiderman no way home - 18 posts

#harrison osterfield - 18 posts

Longest Tag: 132 characters

#i really thought today was 1st of april until i checked to see if mobile network was on 0 again. first time i used all it in a month

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I love when Daniel goes "gi gi gi eh eh eh eh"

36 notes - Posted September 10, 2022

#4

After 1,5 of having the same background I finally changed it!

Unfortunately, the gif background I have for my lockscreen can't be posted:((

Anyway, here is my homescreen. Feel free to use it yourself!! Let me know if you like it and/or if you use it

43 notes - Posted February 1, 2022

#3

Hello, I am here to announce that I have found someone new to crush on

*drum roll* it's Tom Sturridge!

And let me tell you, that voice!!!😍

70 notes - Posted August 23, 2022

#2

Closer| E.M. Imagine

I had this idea for an Eddie x female!reader imagine. Thought/ dreamed about this last night. I'm currently on my period, started to hurt like hell when i went to bed. Had a hot water bottle but I think having an Eddie would help a lot too.

This is not proofread, but you'll get the idea anyway.

You're best friends with Eddie. One day when you're hanging out at his place, you fall asleep in his bed. This happens in the evening/ night, so Eddie decides to also go to bed.

The two of you are quite close: you are comfortable enough to talk about everything, or just quietly enjoying each others company, but als frolicking (kind of like the relationship he has with Dustin). However you never cuddled when sleeping or when you're simply hanging out.

In the morning before you left your house, you're period started. Surprisingly, you barely had any pain until the night. Soft moans of pain left your mouth as you were in a deep sleep.

This woke up Eddie, he asks you if you're alright. Still in a very sleepy state you say that you're on your period. He proceeds to ask if you need anything. You mumble 'No, just hold me.', and he does. Eddie pulls you closer, your back against his chest. His right hind gently rubbing your stomach you help get rid of the pain.

When you wake up, Eddie is holding you. Laying on your sides, your head against his chest, Eddie's hands caressing your head and your back, and your left arm around his torso. You don't remember saying you wanted Eddie to hold you, but you definitely don't want him to stop or to pull away yourself.

Okay, that was my little idea! I hope you liked it!

93 notes - Posted November 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

1) Derry Girls S3 finally on netflix 👌 2) Liam Neeson is Derry Girls👌👌 3) this fucking gem of a scene👌👌👌👌👌👌👌

276 notes - Posted October 10, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #Don't remember writing that long ass tag lol #Funny to see that my nr 1 tag is JQ i started doing that in September after watching ST

[lovemesomesurveys]

Does it annoy when someone is really, really obnoxious? Oh, absolutely. I can’t stand when people are cocky, arrogant, and obnoxious.  Do you say 'start' or 'begin'? I think I’ve said “start” more often.  Whose the last person you laughed with? My brother.  Who can make you smile no matter what? My doggo usually can.  What color is your favorite fruit? Yellow.

Do you have any plans for today? Nothing out of the ordinary, just watch YouTube videos, scroll through Tumblr, do some surveys, maybe read, maybe color, sleep... that’s about it.   Have you ever dumped someone or been dumped on Valentine's day? No. Has anyone ever hacked onto your myspace/facebook etc account? No. Do you look like your sibling(s)? We have our similar features. Although, there’s this filter on Snapchat sometimes that makes you look like a man with a goatee and it seriously makes me look identical to my older brother lol. It’s just funny because I don’t feel it’s so apparent normally.  Do you prefer buses or cabs? Neither, really.  Does anyone call you 'babe' or 'baby'? ”Babe” sometimes.  Do you like your eye color? Meh, I wish I had blue or green eyes.  Is there someone you can't get enough? Alexander Skarsgard. ;) How was your week? There’s finally been talk of me just going home and skipping the rehabilitation center I was supposed to go to but haven’t been able to go for various reasons. I was supposed to go July 1st, but there was insurance issues. Then I was supposed to go August 1st to a different, but yet again a few other road bumps got in the way. I’m thinking I’m not meant to go? ha. It’ll be so close, like yeah you’re going, they’re ready for you, and then nope! I’m perfectly fine with that, though, let me go home damnit. They’ve been showing my mom how to do some stuff so she can do it at home, so I hope I’ll be going home soon. I do want to do the swallowing test first and see if I can start a liquid diet and be able to have actual drinks and then work up to actual food. 

Do you keep up with the celebrity gossip? Yeah, but not nearly as much as I used to.  Are you wearing any masacara? No. I’m not wearing any makeup.  Whose the most innocent person you know? I don’t know. Do you check Postsecret every week? I never go on the website, I just come across a Facebook post of theirs once in awhile. Is there anyone you regret knowing? No. Does your best friend smoke? No. Have you ever flown a kite? I think I have once when I was a kid.  Do you throw pennies away? No.  Has anyone ever told you a lame line like, 'It's not you, it's me'? Yes, which I thought was BS at the time, but then I’ve said that before and I  believe it truly was me, so... Do you think you're a fragile person? I’ve become one over the past 6 years, physically and figuratively. I feel so weak in every way.  Are you truly happy right now? No. Do you like all your aunts and uncles? All but one.  Whose the last person you said hi to? My dad just now.  Would you rather stay friends with exes or not? I mean it depends. I’ve tried and it ultimately didn’t work out for me, but that’s not to say it never could. It works for some people. Are your parents proud of you? They say they are. I don’t know why, I feel like such a disappointment and failure.  Are you proud of who you are? No. How many sinks are in your house? Three. Have you ever worked somewhere with horrible conditions? I’ve never had a job.  Do you know all your best friend's secret? No. What's your opinion on ...on what? Have you ever been scared to be home alone? Yeah. Even still, like I’m fine for awhile during the day but I don’t stay home alone at night or overnight.  Is your sibling(s0 a good liar? I don’t feel like they’re habitual liars, they’re pretty good, honest people.  Are YOU a good liar? No. I used to be able to hide my emotions better, but definitely not anymore. I do downplay things and maybe leave some things out, though.  What's the best game show? I like to watch Family Feud and The Weakest Link.  Do you say 'simple' or 'plain'? Uhh, depends what I’m talking about.  Name a time when you couldn't control your anger: It was during a very stressful and long trip from Idaho to California (we went to Idaho because my grandpa lived there and he was sick and dying) and our emotions were high because of my grandpa’s passing. I think there was hanger mixed in there for some of us, too. My dad and I were bickering and I just got so mad because given everything going on it was just too much. I remember actually shaking because I was so mad.  How often do you wash your hands? Often, and I use hand sanitizer often as well.  What's your dream car? I don’t have one. Are you one of those people who want to marry Edward Cullen? No. I was team Edward back in the Twilight days, though, and thought he was cute.  What's something you need to survive, other then the obvious food, etc? My family.  Have you ever been kicked in the stomach? No. What would you do if the president asked you to hang out? Nah, that’s okay. Would you rather never wear hoodies again or never wear T-shirts again? Aw, I really like hoodies and graphic tees, but out of the two I’d go with never wear hoodies. I have so many graphic tees and I’d like to keep getting more. Even though I shouldn’t cause I don’t have room... Do you know how to stop an over-flowing toilet? Yeah. When you're typing, do you type 'tomorrow' or 'tmr'? I type, “tomorrow.” With the exception of like, “lol”, “lmao”. “omg”, and “wtf”, I don’t like shorthand or text speak.  Whose the most kind person you know? My mom.  Did you see the movie 'House of wax'? Did you like it? Yeah. Do you have any special jewlery? I do. Do you/did you like school? Overall, I would say I did. In the midst of it I wouldn’t have said that, though. I got so stressed out, burnt out, and overwhelmed, but I did like some aspects of it. Plus, at least I was being productive then. Since graduating UC back in 2015 I haven’t done shit.  Have you ever dated the same person more then three times? Joseph and I had a complicated, off and on thing for like 3 years.  Do you need to wash your hair? I do. Lol or lmao? I use both.  Can you tell when your best friend is lying? I think so. Do you like writing speeches? No. I hated giving them even more.  Do you have bangs? No. Do you say 'lol' even when it's not that funny? I’ll write it with a deadpan look and all lol. Like now.  What's your favorite perfume? Hmm. I don’t have one particular one.  Have you ever been dumped through text? No, but via Facebook Messenger.  Who doesn't deserve to be so famous? I don’t know. Does your hair get greasy soon after washing it? No. If the last person you kissed asked you to marry them, what would you do? Uh, say no and be like wtf?? That would definitely be completely out of the blue. We haven’t seen or talked to each other in 6 years and he had ended things with me years prior because he didn’t feel the same way about me and didn’t want to commit. Now he just shows up and wants to get married? Nah. 

Do you trust people soon after meeting them? No. What do you order at fast food restaurants? Most likely chicken tenders, but it depends on the place of course.  If you were to have a son, what would you name him? I’m not having kids.  Do you eat fish? No. How many of your cousins are married? Several. Many are in long-term relationships and have a family, just not married.  How many times have you gotten manicures? Once, it was for my 8th grade graduation.  Can you get to sleep anywhere or do you need certain conditions? I need to be comfortable physically and temperature wise.  Do you go to tanning beds? No. Big sunglasses, aviators or normal sized ones? None. What was your teacher's name is grade seven? I had a few teachers, like one for math, one for history, one for science, one for English.  Do you know anyone who recently got engaged? No. What color is your most comfy pair of pajamas? I have several t-shirt dresses in various colors and prints that I like to wear for pajamas and around the house.  Do you prefer to keep your issues private? I’m open here in these surveys, but I keep most things to myself in “real life” and on Facebook. I’m vague and selective with what I share on Facebook. I very rarely post anything at all to be honest.  Is the room you're in right now messy? No. Have you ever had a cat who had kittens? I’ve never had a cat.  What was the last thing to make you cringe? Hm. I don’t recall.  Has a chair you were sitting on ever collapsed? No. What is the most basic thing you know? I don’t know? Have you ever heard the song 'If you seek Amy'? Yes. Do you think watching a birth is beautiful or gross? I’m sorry, but I don’t find it beautiful lol. Does your myspace/e-mail/etc have any x's in it? Back in the day all my usernames and emails did.  What's your favorite kind of math? (Addition, division, etc) Uh, none. I hate math.  Would you rather name your daughter Rachel or Holly? I’m not having kids, but for the sake of the question I like the name Rachel better.  Have you ever ditched a friend for a guy? I kind of did in middle school. :/ Would you like to date a musician? I’m not seeking out one, but if I found a guy who happened to play an instrument I’d be into that. I’d love if they could play piano.  Do you know who Pete Wentz is? Yeah. What's your favorite thing to do on a road trip? Snack and listen to music.  What's your favorite thing to eat on a road trip? Chips and sweets. 

#personal #text #survey #surveys #long survey

[luvpogl-music]

Now it would be rude of me to leave these beautiful minions on the edge of their seat wondering what happened to that boy child baptized by fire last night. After all who only want to dream about a magical girl? Well, maybe that boy, but lets see how he is progressing as he walks the eras or ages of youth.

As the warm summer night came to a close in smalltown, nowhere USA the sound of bluebirds singing pierced the windows of the house as the aroma of sausage and eggs filled the coolness of the conditioned air at grandma and grandpa's house. One son arrived in mom's arms, the youngest who'd been crying the night before. Unwilling to sleep she took him to bed with them so she could get some sleep, while the other boy sat gazing in space, the mark of Cain draped over him. The boys this day would be given names, as that was the first order to discuss at the breakfast table.

It was decided with pleasure and happiness by all that the youngest child wrapped in moms arms would be called Jacob and for the boy held long above the flames, he was blessed and called Job while he lay in his father's arms; Job a derivative of Jubal that has long been lost in the traditions of the Hebrew, lost to the hands that scattered them to the four winds. With the coronation of them complete the family packed their things and left for their home that rested at the end of a dead end street they lived.

For most of the early years the boys were displayed like proud treasures by their sisters and parents to their friends, but soon as the began to walk life grabbed each by the hand and walked them down different paths as was God's plan for the both of them. Now their grandfather who was closer to God then anyone would know or admit, his father Leo from the tribe of high priests that claim Jesus as their direct teacher in all things holy of which today none no longer exist with the passing of him, but as the legend as always held true from the beginning of time, it does not mean that once again one will never rise.

The grandfather for his part did never discuss with any of the children or grandchildren the secrets or mysteries of heaven; he knew as he had been shown and taught that for it to be honestly from the Hand of Heaven it must be left to be found by chance from those that were blessed. After all God calls all of His children as He sees fit, not as parents want done. And he also was aware that among the family rumors and jealousy began to stir at the thought of great riches bestowed on them for doing nothing, but claim something that belonged to no one and really wasn't theirs.

[I have expanded this part a bit, but for here I will leave it an empty piece, to be filled at his desire should His plan grant it. For the things I post to @tumblr and other social media are meant to be read and shared, hoping to inspire derivatives for those who understand. Aware that some will bite and take with no regards to the skill or ability it really takes; this blank leaves in part a trap to bare witness off their sins].

On occasion the children would visit the grandparent that lived so far away, one eager to go on adventures and explore the world and grandfather was more than happy to accommodate the youthful vigor as he always had done. Hikes across the country and waterway adventures that only Mark Twain could speak of and make Lewis & Clark jealous. And in all those experiences with him, the boy Job only ever saw him stand silent, resting on his staff as the winds of the skies seemed to talk to him and take him somewhere far beyond.

The other child, Jacob although he would venture away now and again with the other kids on those trips, he like so many others were more enraptured by the comfort of four walls and sought comfort in the home, spending his days trying to discover and learn the secrets of dreams he'd never seen. His mother and father in some way coaching and encouraging his success as did some of the parents of cousins all hoping to receive the wages of gold for the blessing they felt was deserved. Given words and tasks to flaunt in front of grandma and grandpa seeking recognition of their holiness. And with love and kindness each were applauded and appreciated with their attempts and some even received professional accolades for the works of their attempts.

Job however seemed little interested in the pomp and circumstance that seemed to be displayed and flaunted; often reassured by the others that it was simply because he could not understand, he was after all, slower than the rest. Not blessed with or plagued by genius of any form, but it would be OK; they often stated empty consoles jabbed to attack his spirit and the pride he took in just living and being a kid. Letting him know in fact that he should feel lucky to not have been cursed with the struggles and talents such gifts they self-proclaimed to the world.

Instead Job spent some time chasing the wind that seemed to take his grandfather away when they hiked, even asking one time where it was that he went when he was lost with his chin on his staff. On one of those magical journeys through the woods of life, Job approached his grandfather and asked where he went as he stood there, his chin resting on his staff. His grandfather looked down surprised and seeing the others far off, just smiled and said "do you feel that son?" "Feel what?" Job asked. He smiled and said they call it the breeze, do you feel it across your cheeks, Job said "yeah"; his grandfather said "just remember when ever you're alone and feel that wind across your cheeks, that's God sending you the kiss of a pretty girl". "Like grandma? Job laughed, and so did grandfather did too. He said "yes, just like grandma" now what do you say we finish this hike and get back home to them. Not wanting to go, he accepted that journey was done as grandfather called the other kids to make their way back.

It was the miracle of lessons like that that kept Job silent and wrapped in the words of ancients as he grew, the voices of their spirits pouring through his heart and soul. Knowing just how different the words would start to impact him, when they started to speak it drove him further and further into the stacks, never attention to read all, but finding the owners of voices that came, teaching him to find his own. Always quiet, an emptiness inside him he realized those around him would not feel.

Understanding the things that he thought were not apparently correct as so many of the friends and children he played with attacked these very things and he watched as his brother was poked, prodded and subjected at request by specialist and doctor's who sought to explain what was wrong with him. And soon the boys too would enter the days of second, third and fourth grade and it was in those first few classrooms that Job would experience a feeling so deep for nothing he'd known or felt, but would hurt when she left.

[So I've stricken from this record statements that found a place before their time and to continue would jumble the thoughts of some screaming nonsense; forgetting, this is just a scratchpad, words typed on a whim to record memories to be shared by the wind. Let us then leave the two brothers there for now this night and see what tomorrow brings. I imagine that while we find a bit more about this girl and this boy and the two paths they take, on left and one right as it was called before given the words east and west in this world. Rest easy minions, I'm sure if magic is at work, the comfort and peace of these beautiful scenes will not last, after all how will you know you are blessed unless you experience true tragedies on your walk?]

#luvpogl #poglwrites #storytelling #love #john legend #Spotify

[awholenewsetoflies-blog]

6/3/22

I hate catching feelings for someone. It does something to me that I never experience outside of liking someone.

Typically I don’t even care when people text me back. Get back to me whenever. It’s not a big deal.

When I like someone I feel the ole, man I hope I’m not about to be ghosted. Especially in todays day and age it is so easy to just throw someone out and look for the next shiny thing.

And let’s be real, I’m not the easiest person to date, obviously LoL. I mean look at what I’ve written in just a few days.

I’m clearly a lot. So when I like someone it is a big deal.

Which just pisses me off.

Okay let’s move on. Today I’m hungover. I’m just going to own that.

I got a little bit crazy last night. Maybe had too much fun. So I’m still in bed writing this ridiculous tumblr post.

But here we are. This blog wouldn’t be what it is if I lied so I’m not going to.

What’s crazy is I’d rather be hungover than waking up the way I was a few weeks ago.

At least today I woke up miserable but so happy to open my eyes.

A few weeks ago it was literally, “oh fuck I’m awake, shit.”

I know last night that I actually lived it up. I’ll take that any day.

I’ve had the thought that before that my lifestyle might not allow me to live as long as some people.

But I have to say, would I want to?

Or would I rather shave a few years off my life and know that I really lived?

A question for the ages.

Well I’m going to shower. More tomorrow.

#thoughts #journal #authentic