#andras was killed and never thought of again

[theladyofbloodshed]

one fic that i will never write is the sister of andras who was sent away to the continent for her safety, returning to find her high lord utterly broken and her brother murdered for a prophecy but the saviour is now high lady and mated to her court's enemy and her just completely haunting the night court as she seeks revenge for the male she loved, her high lord, and her court

[mistyheartrbs]

vengeance would have been a perfect special if not for doc's death, and i think the reason for that is like. it changes vengeance from a fun sort of "optional" epilogue tv movie (that also doubles as a sizzle reel for andras to pitch a fifth season) to something that irrevocably changes the directions of the characters' lives. if this is the last entry in wynonna earp then doc is dead, wynonna has lost the love of her life, alice grows up without her father. it changes the beautiful ending of s4 - something that was so ruthlessly, defiantly hopeful when it was borne of a genre and a timeframe in which shock value and grimdark character death were the norm, when it was filmed in the middle of a devastating pandemic - into something much more cynical.

now, let me tell you about homestuck.

i love it when stories engage with their role as stories, and two projects that have done that (which also not so coincidentally had massive tumblr followings) are steven universe and, yes, homestuck -- specifically their followups, steven universe: future and the homestuck epilogues/homestuck^2: beyond canon.

steven universe future is a series that posits, "what happens when there's no one left to fight and you have to face yourself?" it's something that existed to tie up the loose ends left by steven universe's hasty cancellation/ending - and so it looks at an action hero's struggles with ptsd when he isn't saving the world anymore. it recontextualizes everything we thought was just another action scene, just another monster fight, just another thing he won with love and kindness and great, great injury to himself, and says, no, this hurt him, you cannot take on the world for yourself, you deserve a good life too. it's in conversation with steven universe's endless empathy and self-sacrifice and doesn't ridicule it but acknowledges that it's a philosophy that you can only hold for so long before you crack.

it's a lovely show that, while much darker than the original series, still ultimately ends on a hopeful note. of course steven isn't going to drive off into the sunset and never have any problems again. he's a person. he's going to drive away when it's already nighttime, and he's going to phone his therapist, and he's going to have good days and bad ones and he's never going to have some clean break from the things that still haunt him but he'll be okay.

the homestuck epilogues are bad, and they're mean-spirited, and they spit in the face of audiences who wanted happy endings for the characters. they're written to mimic ao3 fanfiction, and pretty openly mock the fandom and the people who got homestuck to this point in the first place.

creator andrew hussie thankfully seemed to realize that and changed course with homestuck^2: beyond canon, where they started making it a visual webcomic series again, and it started grappling more directly with homestuck as a story.

the first shot of homestuck^2 is of a spaceship with "theseus" scrawled onto the side. the title itself isn't "homestuck 2," it's homestuck squared. homestuck multiplied by itself. it's a writing team - people who started out as fans of homestuck and are now arbiters of it - with only minimal involvement from the original creator. who determines what is and isn't homestuck? is it the god-creator who wrote himself into the story, then wrote himself being killed off? is it this new writing team? is it you? after all, homestuck itself started with audience prompts. somebody who is not andrew hussie named john egbert. somebody who is not andrew hussie gets to decide how it continues, and if it ends, and why.

"misty, what the whiskey-shooting hell does any of this have to do with wynonna earp?"

what's weird about vengeance is that it doesn't do any of that. and in fact its very existence is antithetical to doc's death speech - it, like doc, is something that's dodged death. it's a followup to a show with one of the most satisfying series finales in recent memory. it's nothing so cynical as a cash grab (as i've seen people on the tag posit) - everyone involved genuinely loves this show. but it's basically a ninety-minute wynonna earp episode. aside from a few brief references and nods to the fans - waverly saying "welcome home, wynonna" - it's not interested in the three and a half years between the end of the show and this new special. it's not interested in whether it should exist, or how long people fought for it to exist. it does explore avenues that the series didn't have time to look into - wynonna's traumatic childhood, the lack of support from the adults in her life - but it's not looking at What "wynonna earp" is. it's not a story about Wynonna Earp (2016-2021), a SyFy Original Series that crafted lifelong friendships and conventions and stories and art and romances and careers and acted as a beacon of hope for thousands of young people during dark times. it's a story about wynonna earp, the character, who doesn't know if she can be a good mom to alice, who hurts the people she loves, who loves those people so, so fiercely she'll literally go to hell and back for them.

and i don't like that her ending is one full of grief. that doesn't feel fair to me.

but that's what season 5 is for, right?

[bookishfeylin]

this was a while ago (a couple months at this point i think) so i might be misremembering, but once in the comment section of an acotar critical video a commenter kept claiming that tamlin was never retconned (which... im not sure what else youd call one of his defining traits in acotar- being observant- suddenly disappearing due to trauma when he was still observant post-amarantha at the end of tar, or some of his values and opinions suddenly also changing in maf, but alright) because throughout the first book he was, according to them, manipulating feyre- specifically lovebombing her. they never specified which events led them to believe this, just that it happened. thoughts?

*sighs*

This argument is one that, unfortunately, I've heard many, many, many times over by now, and have made several posts about in the past. Because, truth be told, it's the best rebuttal they have when you point out direct retcons. The problem is that Tamlin manipulating Feyre, or even lying about his values, is disproven both in the book and in the sequels that follow, and this is because a lot of Tamlin's characterization is based on Feyre's observations of Tamlin, especially at times when he's not aware she's observing him (in contrast to Rhysand telling Feyre what to think about him every other page in ACOMAF).

A very good example of this was with the dying Summer Court faerie. Tamlin and Feyre care for the faerie as it passes away babies, and this scene is viewed by many as a good character moment for Feyre that establishes her kindness under a gruff exterior, but the same is not said for her other half, likely because all the Feysands who reread ACOTAR view all of Tamlin's actions as inherently manipulative. The problem here is that Feyre was never supposed to be present. Feyre was supposed to be asleep in her bedroom on another floor of the manor when Tamlin returned with the fae, and it's only through coincidence--her having a nightmare about killing Andras that wakes her up--that she's present to see Tamlin extend kindness and try to help the faerie in the first place. Ergo, Tamlin's action here can't have been an attempt to manipulate Feyre because Tamlin never expected Feyre to be present, and the kindness shown to lesser fae, and by extension, what that says about how Tamlin views individuals in lower socioeconomic classes than him, is a genuine facet of his character.

There's also a lot of background established about Tamlin that simply can't have been done on purpose by him to manipulate Feyre. What, did he start taking in refugees from other courts like Alis and her nephews because 50 years prior he had a psychic dream about Feyre and he wanted to make himself look really appealing to her? Did he treat them well solely so Alis could make him sound good to Feyre to convince Feyre to go UTM?

I also take issue with people arguing that Tamlin was love-bombing Feyre. It was already discussed before here by someone who's pro-Feysand who also picked up on this (and this ask is already getting longer lol so I'll just link it here and reblog it later) but the TLDR is that Tamlin demonstrably does not want to manipulate Feyre per another conversation she listens in on, and he decidedly chose to abandon the goal of making her love him when he sent her home. Every single "Tamlin never really love Feyre he was just love-bombing her and manipulating her" argument forgets that fact for some reason??? Like he sent her home before she could even do what she was supposed to. He sacrificed himself and his people to eternal damnation for her, without ever expecting to see her ever again. He offered himself to the woman he's known since childhood to shield Feyre from harm. So if you want to argue that, like the beast character he was based on, Tamlin originally brought Feyre to his manor for the purpose off making her fall for him to break his curse, then fine, but it's impossible to argue that throughout their relationship and by the end he was manipulating her and had no genuine love for her.

TLDR: it's a stupid argument that relies on selective reading and I hate it.

[acourtofthought]

The number of times I see people defend Cass and Az siding with Rhys with "he's their friend and High Lord" vs the number of times Lucien gets shit for "not standing up to Tamlin" (even though he did do that) is wild.

I think people forget to take a step back and look at all the information presented to us when reading these books.

Of course the author is telling Feyre's story and it's easy to get caught up on what she feels and wanting to side with her but from a logical perspective, if you really want to immerse yourself in this entire world with all these characters (and not just have blind loyalty to Feyre considering Sarah chose to continue writing characters outside of Feyre), you have to consider why they did what they did and whether there is some understanding to be found.

When you look at Feyre and Lucien's relationship, she murdered his friend. MURDERED.

How many of us are going to be fond of someone who killed someone we cared for? It had to be done for the curse of course but he had to see her in his home knowing that she hated his kind and that's why she met Amarantha's requirement.

The fact that he was willing to even become her friend after that is a testament to Lucien's ability to forgive because he could have easily acknowledged the sacrifice Andras made to save them while still choosing to never give the female who murdered someone in cold blood a second thought.

He grew to care for Feyre despite that, risked his life for Feyre, but again she was a 19 year old human he'd known for a few months compared to the person who helped save his life, compared to the person who he spent centuries with, compared to the person he called a friend. Why should he have MORE loyalty to Feyre? What had Feyre ever done for him to earn that loyalty?

Regardless of what Tamlin did after UTM, Lucien had years upon years upon years of building a life in the Spring Court, feeling safe in the Spring Court, being Tamlin's friend in the Spring Court.

If you had a friend you'd known for 20 years then suddenly they spiraled due to trauma and began behaving badly, wouldn't you have faith that they could pull free from it? To find their way again? Would you just cut them off because they were behaving in a way you didn't agree with?

It's funny how people argue how awful Feyre and Elain were for not standing by Nesta's side during her depression (though Nesta forced them away) but hate Lucien for standing by Tamlin and trying to help him through his.

Was Tamlin abusive to women for the last 2 or 3 centuries? It seems the answer is no therefore his behavior in ACOMAF seemed a product of his downward spiral after UTM and having fallen in love. That means Lucien was a good person for trying to bring him back, to help him remember who he had been before. That means Lucien hoped the friend he'd always known could break free from whatever had recently happened to him.

Compare that to Rhys who let others believe he was evil for centuries. In all the time Tamlin saved Lucien, that Tamlin gave Lucien a job and they became friends, Rhys allowed everyone to believe he was a monster.

"Lucien wanted to take Feyre back to her abuser!"

No, Lucien wanted to take Feyre away from who he thought the real abuser was, the guy who was once ready to shatter his mind and who he thought worked with Amarantha (the one who cursed them all and brutally scarred him) for 50 years and was promised by his friend of centuries that he was better, that he knew he was in the wrong and wouldn't make the same mistakes again. Tamlin lost control of his temper and Feyre was injured as a result but Lucien had seen Rhys choose to hurt people so I do understand why he thought Tamlin was capable of change, why he believed he could do better and get help.

On a personal note, my father was abusive to my mother. At 5 years old I witnessed him throw her to the ground and break her collarbone.

Domestic violence is a tricky thing. Should I have written my father off never to talk to him again? Was he not deserving of a second chance even though I hated what he did? My parents did end up divorcing shortly after and he remarried and I absolutely adore my stepmother. I know for a fact that he did change and they are still happily married to this day so I see why in some instances you hope for the best, why you'd like to believe someone can overcome their struggles and it's not for someone else to judge how someone should deal with an abuser because even that is complicated.

But that's real life which is a whole lot trickier than a fantasy world where somehow it's ok for Feyre to murder a fae with hate in her heart yet a friend hoping his friend can overcome his depression and anger issues is made out to be a villain.

Lucien had actual reason to believe Tamlin was capable of change considering the Tamlin of ACOMAF was different Tamlin than the one he had known, the one who saved him.

He was a victim of Tamlin's too so him having hope that "that was the last time" is a normal response to victims of domestic violence. Of course he believed Tamlin could change. Why wouldn't he since he'd known Tamlin as a good guy longer than Tamlin as a bad guy? Of course he'd have hope that his entire life as he'd known it wasn't falling apart so spectacularly.

People forget the events of ACOTAR / ACOMAF didn't just happen to Feyre, Lucien's life was falling apart too. Not to mention for Lucien it wasn't just about Feyre, it was about the people of an entire court. He literally said to her, "don't make me risk the stability of this court." He was worried about the people of Spring finding their way back after the horrors they'd witnessed over 50 years and Feyre was worried about the events of the last three months. That's not to say her trauma was not enormous but was it worse than what others went through? Was her depression more important than the depression of everyone in that land?

EVERYBODY in Spring was struggling, not just Feyre and I think that's what people forget.

Nobody should have had to push their depression aside, the needs of an entire court aside, to prioritize Feyre. And I like Feyre, I knew the Spring Court was not right for her and Tamlin was never going to be the right person for her once ACOMAF began. It's clear they should have never been talking marriage when they were both a mess themselves.

But I don't fault Lucien for not being able to pull Feyre from her depression when he had about a million and one other things on his plate. When he too was dealing with the horrors from UTM (remember how he was almost killed twice there?), when he was stressing over the safety of the court and the mental health of all it's people.

Thinking Lucien was there just to serve Feyre is actually really silly when you think about it because Lucien had some major stuff he was dealing with. Did Feyre set aside her trauma to help Lucien deal with his? Did she even bother thinking about his trauma or did she simply turn a blind eye (especially when she kept walking after knowing Tamlin used his power against Lucien).

Feyre wasn't any better a friend to Lucien after UTM than some claim he was to her but I don't fault her for that because I realize that at certain times you can put your own needs over that of another but Lucien should be extended the same courtesy when he was thinking about everyone's needs. Wanting his HL to heal so that the court didn't suffer doesn't make him an asshole, it actually makes him worthy of becoming a HL himself.

The IC? They might have been worried about their High Lord but they and the people of Velaris lived in relative comfort for 50 years. They did not experience the same horrors that everyone else was dealing with. So when Feyre came to them it was much easier for their focus to be on Feyre, on making her a priority, on her healing and she could then focus on Rhys's healing too.

Sarah is very different from many other authors, where the main character is not guiltless, where other characters are just as developed and just as independent, where they're not written just to be a plot tool to serve the FMC. She does a wonderful job of making side characters extremely layered with their own demons and desires and so I think it's important to treat them with the same individuality that we would a main character.

Being mad at a side character for acting independent of the main character is literally saying "I don't want anyone in this series to want anything other than what is best for the FMC" and that makes for a one dimensional story.

And forgetting that the males also had PTSD, that they don't necessarily deserve to be written off by everyone because of their bad choices but to have someone try to help is an important lesson to remember too. PTSD is not something to overlook just because it's a male suffering from it and I'd hope a friend wouldn't turn their back on a friend because of it, I'd hope they'd try to get their friend the help they need if they're in a position to do so.

Should Feyre have helped Tamlin? Hell no. But Lucien helping Tamlin? If that's what he wants because he probably understands what PTSD looks like, he saw what was happening to Spring and it's people because of Tamlin's state and caring is not something he should be faulted for, not when it affected an entire court. As I said above, Lucien was thinking about more than just Feyre or just Tamlin which means there was no way to meet just one person's needs.

[foreverrandomwritings]

Alliance Maker-Chapter 4

Summary: Some of the inner circle questions you about your life. Wounds that are still fresh get probed at. Many questions are still left unanswered.

Pairing: Slow burn! Azriel x Afab!Reader

Warnings: Hunting, death, torture, whipping... I think that's it, please let me know if there is more that I missed.

Word count: 1840 (Azriel isn't in this part but I promise that in the next chapter he will make an appearance.)

Masterlist Series Masterlist

You didn't have to wait long for the High Lady and High Lord. You had put on a pair of trousers and an oversized tunic that you had been informed was Azriels who was currently out on business. Cassian knew you would completely swim in his own so he had retrieved the slightly smaller one from his brother's room. The holes meant for wings left your back exposed. Your own wings had disappeared when you had gotten injured. 

You all sat around the dining room table. The tension in the air was like a heavy blanket. For some reason however you were calm. The scent coming off the shirt you were wearing was soothing you. They all stared at you for a while before you finally spoke up. 

“Young huntress, I'm glad to see you are doing so well! You’ve come a long way since your first day in the woods.” She looked at you with quizzical eyes. You gave her a mischievous smile in return. 

“I would occasionally watch you hunt when I got bored. Also wanted to make sure you weren’t going to do anything stupid enough to get yourself killed. You caught on mighty quick however.” The approval leaked out of your voice with your words as you gave her a gentle smile. 

“I had never realized you watched me.” She said to you with an uneasy waver in her voice. Rhysand picked up on the tone in her voice and gripped the arm of the chair he was in tightly. 

“It wasn’t very often since I’d mostly be helping my father around our house and shop. You also were never very good at watching out for other people. You were always too focused on the animals around you.” You said simply shrugging your shoulders in nonchalance. 

“Now onto the harder questions, who would like to go first?” You asked the group as your eyes flicked to each of them. 

“How are you a Fae?” Nesta asked first, it was the question she was desperately wanting to know. The question that had been eating away at her since she first found you. 

“I am cauldron made. The first one thrown in as a simple mortal and dumped out a gifted Fae.” You said as your thoughts drifted slightly to the feeling of being embraced by the cauldron. You were quick to snap back to the reality in front of you not liking to dwell on the past. Nesta gave you a look of understanding. But the group had looks of indifference. You being cauldron made did make the most sense. But on the other hand they also didn’t realize there had been someone changed before Elain. 

“How did you come across the wall?” Rhysand asked you voice full of apprehension as he still struggled to wrap his head around you. 

“There were about ten of Hyberns men scrounging through the woods. I had been hunting when they found me. I knew it was dangerous being so close to the wall but I’ve always liked a thrill. I really should’ve known better since Feyre went missing after killing that fae wolf Andras.” You nodded towards the female across from you. There was a look of surprise on their face at the mention of the male that had sacrificed his life for the good of his High Lord. 

“I tried to take them down but they poisoned me with something before I had the opportunity to unleash hell.” Your nose scrunched up at the memory of the disgusting smell the poison had given off. Everyone around the table had a look of understanding in their eyes.

“I killed three of them before it fully took over my body. Which was something I paid for later on.” The gashes along your back seemed to burn as though you had been getting whipped once again. You shifted ever so slightly in your seat, willing the unwanted feeling away. 

“You’re about the age for a female to be married over there so did you leave a husband behind?” You shook your head at Cassian's question, thankful for the change of subject. Even if the question was slightly misogynistic.  

“I was taken from my father and that was all. I have been trying to contact him since escaping.” The thought of not having seen your father in so long sinking in had your voice lowering. It was the longest you’d ever gone without speaking to or seeing him. 

“Where is he at?” Came from Feyre, your eyes connected to hers before focusing on the windows behind her. 

“I’m guessing he is somewhere over here. I went back to our home and there was no sign of him there. Then I heard whispers of the Fae that had come and saved them to give them solace over here. To save them from a disastrous fate. I’m hoping he is safe and that I’ll be able to see him again one day.” You missed your father so much your chest started to hurt as the hope filled your heart of finally being able to see him again. Finally being able to embrace him and hear him call you the beloved nickname he had bestowed upon you many years ago is all you had hoped for. But you had refused to find him until you were somewhere safe. Somewhere that you could call home and could build a life. 

“You had wings when we found you but now they are gone.” Cassian said it with an even yet curious tone. You smiled at that and thanked the cauldron for the open back chair and slits in the shirt you were in as you popped the wings back out. 

“The cauldron was very generous.” You stretched your wings out and let out a sigh of relief. The feeling of them stretching your back caused a soothing ache to run through your body. You also didn’t miss the look Rhysand and Feyre gave each other, the only ones that they knew of that grew wings on their own command were themselves. 

“Those are different from illyrian wings.” This time it was Emerie that spoke up. She was right they were more like the wings of a beast not seen for centuries before Rhysand was even born. They were black as night and pure cobalt blue, the wingspan larger than that of an Illyrian. They were slightly thicker than their wings and went farther down your back by about half a foot. The similarities were the five sharp spikes at the bottom of each wing and a singular sharp spike at the top of each end. 

“Yes yes. I’ve been told it’s likely because I have a different form waiting inside of me to be let out.” You drummed your fingers along the table as you thought about the first time the wings had shown up. It was after you had escaped and you were extremely grateful that they had shown up when they did. They did a splendid job of shielding you until you learned how to fly with them. 

“And who told you that?” Your eyes found the short yet powerful Fae at the table. Amren you’d take it from the description you’d previously been told. She had arrived with Rhysand and Feyre. 

“Helion.” The one name answer seemed to shock everyone around the table. Yet Amren simply narrowed her eyes at you. She was trying to find a reason to tell her High Lord and High Lady to send you back where you came from. 

“And how were you able to get a visit with him?” Rhysand was sitting up straighter in his chair. Helion wasn’t known for being malicious or blind eyed. But taking a visit with a stranger that belonged to no court seemed a bit far fetched. 

“I asked nicely.” The grin you gave him was purely feline and proud. Cassian snorted at the answer though causing you to send him a wink. 

“Why didn’t we see you while we were within the walls of Hybern?” Nesta asked the question lightly. She didn’t like thinking of the experience so she wasn’t sure how you’d react thinking about it. 

“I fought tooth and nail so you wouldn’t. I didn’t want you to see me as I was.” Your mouth grew dry as you finished your sentence. You looked down at the table and started scratching at a non-existent chip with your fingernail. A glass of water was placed next to your hand causing you to stop. You took it greatfully and gulped it down. When you looked back up there were many eyes looking at you that were full of pity. The High Lord went to open his mouth but you cut him off. 

“It is not a subject I would like to talk about. If you don’t mind, I would like for that to be the end of it.” Hands forming into fists you held his stare. He broke it when a hand laid upon his arm. He glanced to the side and Feyre was looking at him, they had a silent conversation before he turned back and nodded at you. 

“Please don’t try to enter my mind again either.” You had felt him trying while you were unconscious. Luckily your shields were still up while you were in your temporary coma. He kept his surprise and embarrassment off his face. Though you could see it in the way he flexed his hand and looked down at his shirt for lint that wasn’t there.

“You must be starving.” It was Feyre that broke the tension. Your stomach chose that moment to let out a large growl in reply. Then the house was setting down food in front of everyone. 

“Uhm?” You looked at the food and then up at Nesta. Then your mind snapped back to the water that you didn't hear anyone get up to give you. 

“The house is kind of sentient.” She gave you a bored look, the others had already started eating. 

“Thank you House.” You called out and in reply you got a plate of berry cobbler. Cassian then mumbled under his breath that he wanted some to but the house only answered with a glass of water. 

“How would you feel about coming to training in the morning?” Cassian’s question had you looking at him while picking up a fork to dig into your dinner.

“I would love to. I haven’t had anyone to train with in a while.” your mind went to your time spent in Dawn, training with the guard there many months ago. A smile graced your lips at the thought of being able to see Thesan and his lover again in the future. The group of you ate in mostly silence. They occasionally talked about the High Lord and High lady’s son Nyx. There was talk about Mor and Azriel. You went to bed that night wrapped in Azriel's shirt, the smell lulling you into your first nightmare-less dream since escaping Hyberns grasp.

A/N: The next chapter will get things cooking a bit. Thank you all so much for reading, likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated.

Tags(open): @theeleggymeggy @wolfsbane44 @moonlwghts @maddietheshoe @hyemishii @fanboyluvr @kmc1989 @acourtofinkandpapyrus @luvmoo

[phonenumber01]

I know I always post shit about Rhys and that I hate him and everything, but I never read the books lol 🤣 I got to Amaranthas part and dropped bc I thought the story was too stupid. And I’ve been finding little details in TaR that I hadn’t seen now that I’m trying to read it again.

Like f.e. Isn’t it suspicious that Andras got killed three days after Tamlin decided to send his last men to be killed by a human to fulfill the terms of the curse and then three days before the 49 years ended, Tamlin sent Feyre home to keep her safe? Like, do you guys think there’s some meaning behind the three days or am I just being stupid? Bc why would SJM specify that 3 days had passed between each event?

Is this explained later? I think I look stupid now

[luckyshotwrites]

Ch. 100 // You're Getting My Help, Dumbass // Day Off

Contents (Warnings): Three (Angst, slight blood warning, hard vore mentions, character and monster info as always). Read full chapter on A03

Wordcount: 2,400+

Song I correlate to this Chapter: Again like far too many!

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Wicks

Throbbing with adrenaline, his mind raced. Millions of thoughts bucked in his skull.

They needed more information on Andras. He used elemental magic the most. Wicks wasn't supposed to worry about curse magic with him. Naturally, Andras could have learned, but overtaking Wicks usually took more effort than the average training magus could expel. 

Not that it mattered—Wicks's head wanted to find a way out. 

How would anyone know?

There wasn't one. Wicks messed up, and now his family would pay for him. The loathsome, heartbreaking reality that Andras would play pretend asWicks made him wish he never existed. He didn't want Andras to talk or touch any of them, yet he would. Any of them could be another of his sick targets, overwhelmed and devoured by Andras using Wicks as a disguise.

Everyone, I'm sorry.

Andras's oscillating inner flesh rubbed against his body, siphoning his energy quickly with its saliva. However, the teeth that pricked his back never closed. Something prevented it from doing so. 

Wicks, bound by Andras's orders, could not move to see what was behind him. 

The fleshy walls retracted immediately, and Andras issued his following command. "Kill him, please, Diageo."

Wicks assumed the mimic pulled back to watch, because he looked far more entertained than worried. It's not Garter.

Garter had his third eye, which perfectly combatted the curse magic controlling Wicks.

Against his will, Wicks twisted on his heels and gazed at the person who had temporarily saved him.

It was the one he considered an enemy. 

Run Away. 

Every part of his body tensed with energy and magic. Wicks didn't want to end someone without it being his choice. Not even him. 

Please, you idiot-

Wicks's hue fumed as their need to end the blonde intensified. They locked on, keenly observing every part of him. 

RUN.

...

Alexander

His sight was useless so he solely focused on their scents and energy. He found one person along the way. Barely breathing, bleeding, a flickering flame of energy. He healed them, though he couldn't stay, and told them he'd be back. 

Mainly because it sounded like the building would collapse under the chaos further inside if he didn't help stop it.

He knew one was Wicks, the smaller blob ahead of him at the far end of the room. There was a flurry of colors trailing Wicks head like Drake earlier. Magic. Magic was the only thing he could see clearly enough.

The other being with Wicks lacked a scent. They only had energy. 

Based on his experiences, the only species he met without scents were mimics. 

He used the band of magic around Wicks head to determine where to place his barrier. He threw one up, since he couldn't human case whatever was in front of Wicks properly without his sight. It collided with it and backed off from Wicks.

His under its curse magic...

Alexander's hair stood up and his instincts strangled every muscles in his body.

Wicks is facing me, isn't he?

Alexander strapped a cloak to his body as he shot straight at Wicks. He would have used 'blink' if he could guarantee he'd end up where he needed to be to undo that band on Wicks head.

The alarming concentration of spells Wicks conjured called his attention. His fist. Alexander swiftly slid his hand across the air in front of him. A barrier struck Wicks's wrist and redirected his punch away, stealing its momentum. 

Due to his assault, Alexander shifted gears, creating a balustrade in a rush instead of a wall on Wicks's side. He flung himself at it and kicked off to reach Wicks's head. 

Wicks threw his arm through the barrier beam Alexander used prior. He broke it, and right before the blonde's fingers could touch Wicks's head, Wicks yanked his head to his right shoulder, and turned his motion to slam his curled hand into Alexander's gut.

Alexander lurched, his body pulled inward by its force, knocking every bit of air out of his lungs in a sputter. His cloak had long shattered, so he took the rest of its force with his wendigo durability—not that it could beat Wicks.

It sent him upward, and Wicks's barely recognizable blur was gone. His energy swirled behind the half wendigo, and Alexander cloaked his body and tilted his palm behind him to conjure a barrier in futile protection. 

It didn't matter, as Wicks appeared behind him, spinning in the air, sent the back of his heel into his target. It snapped the barrier, burst his cloak, and the weight sunk deep into the lower back part of Alexander's neck. 

It sent him down to the floor without the time to catch himself. His body, used like a cannonball, shattered the foundation. Every muscle twitch hurt, his ears rang, and he couldn't feel his face just taste the blood.

Get up. 

He barely willed his hand to lift and wave to his side. He created a barrier under himself, causing it to slam into and push him out of the recess—seconds before Wicks bashed into it from above. 

The strength rippled and caused the interior to shake. Alexander used reversal magic, rapidly healing himself as Wicks got up from the ground where Alexander's head once was. 

Once his legs listened, he forced himself to stand. Alexander lowered his body like a wrestler. I fucking can't dodge him. He's too fast. 

Unlike the half wendigo, Wicks had no problem using things like 'blink' to cover the distance.

Alexander was far too weak, unskilled, and stupidly refused to do anything that could possibly hurt Wicks. 

The dangerously powerful magus sprang up and ran, then closed the distance instantly, aiming right for Alexander's skull. He has no reprieve, every single shot was to kill him. 

Alexander tilted his head, his eyes focused the best they could be behind Wicks, and his already up arms moved higher. He used his left one to block the up-and-coming blow while the other hand tried to touch Wicks's head. 

The danger's fist pulverized his flesh, muscle, and bone in its way. Alexander's arm stood no chance against a full-powered attack. 

And as soon as his fingers grazed the bind, he yelled out in sharp pain. "DISRUPT." 

Right before his head was next to go, he used 'blink' to teleport behind Wicks. His body panged in inescapable agony. His left forearm was eradicated, blood pouring from what was left, and a scalding sensation ran across his head. He couldn't see past the blood in his left eye. 

He fell to his knees, huddled over, and attempted to quickly fix what he could. 

...

Wicks

He heaved. The air that entered him was his again. His distraught sight threw itself back, catching Alexander and the blood pittering from him. Wicks could even feel some of it on his face. 

Alexander's scalp was partially exposed on one side, and his left forearm and hand were completely gone.  

But he was alive. 

He risked his life to undo it.

Wicks's chest compressed. He hated Alexander, and still...the idiot went out of his way to help him. He has no obligation to me.

The enemy didn't let either of them rest.

Alexander worked on repairing himself and Andras took advantage. He slung his right arm like it was a fishing pole and pitched it ahead at Alexander. Being cast, his arm split into a string of squelching bloodless flesh. Its serrated teeth wrapped around Alexander's neck and fortunately his arm stopped Andras from cinching and strangling him.

"Got a big one!"  Then Andras whipped his arm and Alexander back into the wall. His arms flesh returned to normal after.

"This is so sad. I had been wanting short fuse for a while now," Andras's stare fell to Wicks. "But I'll gladly settle for a better prey like you." 

His energy was halved by Andras, who remained full and spry. 

Even so, the pissed-off Hispanic shot at Andras. 

"You want another hug so soon!" Andras yelled as Wicks's body collided with him. Wicks could feel the teeth underneath trying to penetrate his cloak, and the saliva from its mouth dampened it as it took energy.

Wicks got him into the wall, too, but risked Andras's body opening up to consume him again. 

He drains just as fast as I would by touch with his saliva.

He popped his cloak, and Andras dove in. At no point during this fight had Andras been on the offensive. He'd always strike after Wicks. 

Andras hunched and threw his hand out to grab him. Wicks hurled his to counter it. But Andras split his arm down the middle. Each end was serrated with fangs. They curled around Wicks's midsection. He put up another cloak just as Andras threw his head down and wide open, engulfing Wicks's head inside. The feeling of being inside the villain's mouth was kept back by his protection. 

Andras jaw snapped shut to break his cloak. He couldn't. 

¡vete a la mierda! You're not eating me! Wicks went to strike at Andras's abdomen, and instead, it opened up. So he hit into its surprisingly resistant gooey and energy-dampening insides. It was still a powerful hit, rippling Andras's body, but it didn't stop him from trying to consume Wicks.

He soon let go and reduced his size. Wicks saw a size-shifted Alexander over him. It seemed he went to grab and pull Andras's head back. Andras quickly ducked between Alexander's legs and got behind him. 

"Such wasted potential, short fuse, you've had years." Andras's arms latched into Alexander's skin. He didn't break it but ran the electrical currents up it. It made Alexander's body convulse, and the sharp teeth injected from his arms and into Alexanders legs. 

Wicks didn't let it go on when he captured his senses. He went straight between Alexander's legs, too, and ducked low. Andras's abdomen opened up in response, taking the punch. It still sent him back.

Wicks shook off his fist, burst the cloak, and redid it. 

He glanced back at Alexander, who smoked but healed himself relatively fast. 

"I'm sorry," Wicks said, catching his breath. 

Alexander shifted his eyes and dropped down to his resting height. "focus on the fight, not me, dumbass." He exhaled snappy, short breaths, "I'll live."

Andras threw himself at them again. Wicks retaliated, colliding with him. And with his free hand, Andras flicked a finger up, and the spiraling pillar of a barrier rammed its point into Wicks's body. 

"Barriers rely so much on sight. I'm surprised you can even do them with your pitiful eyes." Andras made more of them spring up, then surround and crush Alexander between them. 

Wicks shattered the spike before it sent him to the ceiling. 

Andras laughed as Wicks directed himself down, dropping his 'gravity' using gyro-telekinesis. "Much like Wicks-" Andras's hands sparked with their blue electricity before he threw the blast into one of the barriers instead. 

He used 'blink' to appear behind Wicks in mid-air.

"Focus's too much."

Wicks altered his 'gravity' for a second time, spinning his momentum to strike Andras's ribs with a roundhouse kick. At the same time, the lightning he threw earlier curved off the spike and hit Wicks's back and sent him toward another spiked pillar. His cloak was on the verge of breaking. 

Wicks landed on one of the points that resembled a bamboo shoot and pushed off it. It snapped under him as he launched like a peregrine falcon after its prey. He always aimed for the head. Andras, from the ground, split his apart, and his hands twisted around the arm Wick's failed to connect.

He brought Wicks into his, raised his feet in a drop kick from the ground, and enhanced them like Wicks. Andras struck his torso so hard that the left side of his body spun out, and his right arm loudly popped as Andras dislocated it from his shoulder.

He swung him down by it. 

Only a few individuals, besides his dad, could throw back as hard as Wicks could. So it reminded him how weak a magus was without powerful cloaks and how his lungs slowly filled with blood. 

Wicks scrambled to gather himself and his collapsed chest. Andras tried to take the opportunity to steal another chunk out of Wicks, but Alexander locked his human case again and made a barrier slam into his jaw from the ground. 

Andras snapped through it, the barrier turning to dust in his mouth. He glanced back, not expecting Alexander to have gotten so close.

Arguably weaker, he still delivered a blow directly into Andras's spine. The mimic's chest raised forward. And Wicks lifted his left hand and shot out a basic force blast. 

It sent the mimic spiraling the other way toward where the entrance used to be. 

Alexander dropped down and assessed Wicks.

"You should-" Alexander used reversal magic to speed up the process. 

"Save your magic." Wicks groaned as he sat up. "He's almost dead."

Alexander groaned weakly. "Whatever. Listen..." He squinted in the direction Andras was. "He's using our magic every time he takes a part of us." he held his arm to Wicks. "And since you're the only one capable of killing him, take my energy since you're more drained than I am."

Wicks pushed his arm away, "no-"

"Odds are if it's left to me, I'm not winning, and if he eats your ass, there's nothing any of us can really do." Alexander threw his arm back in Wicks's face, "so take it." 

"ARGH," Wicks grabbed Alexander's forearm. "Distance yourself after this." He carefully took it. There wasn't much between them, but he still left Alexander with enough to do one final thing. 

"I need him to stand still, get him stuck there, and I can kill him." 

He had to end this; they'd both be Andras's meals if he didn't. 

Alexander listened and did what he could. He manipulated the barriers like hands and trapped Andras between them. The daze Andras had lasted less time than Wicks wanted.

Wicks tried to read his mind and distract Andras, and the mimic freely let him. So, Wicks intercepted his thoughts, feelings, and memories. Wicks realized Andras won.

He underestimated Andras's priorities. The psycho focused on releasing his human case. Thus, he opened it before Wicks, begging him to strike the form and become one with it. 

But then, his form unexpectedly shifted back, someone human cased him again. Though he felt it wasn't Alexander. 

Andras's surprise and utter shock said it all, and Wicks could feel his final moments.

The real Andras didn't know what he fought. Mimics were so rare, so far in few. They're generally killed as soon as they're found. They could be anyone; they'd kill them, get their memories and powers, and be able to integrate themselves into anyone's life.  Andras was unlucky. A desperate mimic attacked him without a chance, and he ultimately lost to it. However, his will overtook the mimic. "I hope you burn!" Andras shouted as the mimic encapsulated everything that was him. It adopted every aspect of Andras while keeping its base tendencies. Thus, it never reverted to a complete mimic, which is why instead of being scared.

It smiled at its bitter end as Wicks's fist went through its head. 

...

Hey, you, thank you so much for reading. I'm glad I put out a story that people can enjoy! I hope you continue to enjoy it as WE have a LOT more to go! YOU BETTER KEEP PROSPERING! (Nonnegotiable, as always~).

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What I’d do for a Livable Income Part 2 (Synopsis/Chapter - List)

[rosanna-writer]

we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (5/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~3.3k

A/N: All the typical Under the Mountain trigger warnings apply here. There isn't any weight talk in this chapter, but there is a brief mention of skipping meals. A few lines for dialogue are also lifted directly from ACOTAR book one.

Feyre goes Under the Mountain.

Read on AO3 or you can find the fifth chapter below the readmore.

ch. 1 - the altar is my hips | ch 2. - an arrowhead leading us home | ch. 3 - by the way, i just may like some explanations | ch. 4 - can't not think of all the cost | ch. 5 - honey i rose up from the dead

The next six weeks were the longest of my life—I didn't hear from Rhys again. Even with my own shields up, his feelings leaked through occasionally, none of them positive. Despair, guilt, rage, violation, pain, disgust.

At night, my dreams were glimpses through his eyes of Amarantha's cruel court Under the Mountain. When it was nothing more than heads on spikes or lashes across a back, I slept through the night. Sometimes, though, it was his hands and mouth all over Amarantha in her bedroom, and on those nights, the urge to vomit ripped me from sleep and sent me running towards the toilet. The dreams were so vivid, I could still taste her on my tongue when I woke up. I'd never thought the sick, burning taste of bile could be a mercy until it erased the evidence of what she'd been doing to Rhys.

I took to skipping dinner, just so there would be less to hurl up.

I could only hope that if it worked the opposite way for him, the sight of the city—Velaris, as I learned it was called—helped him through it. But he clearly didn't want to talk, so I couldn't be sure.

When Amarantha didn't feature in the nightmares, it was the Spring Court. Sometimes I dreamed about Andras killing me in revenge, sometimes it was Tamlin dragging me back and forcing me to kill and kill and kill. Those dreams never made me vomit, just left me with a sense of guilt that felt like a physical thing weighing me down and pinning me to the bed.

On those nights, I'd stare at the ceiling and wonder if the blame truly lay at Tamlin's feet for sending Andras to die, Amarantha's for cursing Tamlin in the first place, or mine for being so quick to shoot. I couldn't have known Andras wouldn't hurt me—and had every reason to believe he would—but maybe if I had something other than ice and hatred in my heart, I could have figured it out. The uncertainty meant I'd never be able to scrub that particular stain from my soul.

During the day, I trained. I had no hope of besting a faerie in combat, but that didn't mean it was useless to learn. Cassian ran me through drills intended to make me more nimble, harder to grab onto and winnow to another location. And after I'd mentioned chucking my hunting knife at Tamlin when he'd taken me away, Azriel found me a properly balanced set of throwing knives and taught me to use them. Even if I never landed a hit, the distraction of blades sailing through the air might buy me time to run and hide. Mor wrestled me to the ground as I practiced bargaining, making sure I could close loopholes even as she twisted my arm behind my back. Amren taught me to shield my mind, though it was slow going without an actual daemati to practice with. I didn't dare ask Rhys.

When we weren't in the training ring, I poured over maps of passageways Under the Mountain. There was always the chance that Amarantha had rearranged things in the last fifty years, but I memorized it all anyway. The four of them quizzed me on the key players in Amarantha's court and their allegiances, or at least, what we knew of it from the rumors that drifted back to Velaris. Information could also be its own sort of armor.

Amren was researching exactly what my unfinished bargain tattoo with the Night Court could mean. Every so often, she brought the books to the training ring and sat in the sun to read as we practiced and sparred. Cassian sometimes tried to goad her into joining us, but she never did. 

From what I could gather, Amren and Mor had their hands full keeping the Night Court running in Rhys's absence, and their inability to leave Velaris only complicated matters. Cassian and Azriel were often pulled away to attend to their own duties, too.

Even with so much work to distract us, we were all anxious and restless.

After a few days, I moved my things to the House of Wind, tired of feeling like an invader in someone else's house and a burden for needing to be flown to the training ring. Mor, Cassian, and Azriel were staying there too, and we had an unspoken agreement not to discuss how little we were all sleeping. I wasn't the only one who overtrained to the point of exhaustion—sometimes it was easier to be too worn out to feel or think.

Perhaps it was just because at this point, I might have been able to get used to anything, but after a week at the House of Wind, I realized I was comfortable here. There was less formality than in Spring, and even as she sipped blood, Amren was less frightening when she dropped by just to sit at the dinner table and bicker. Mor and Cassian both offered to pick up paints for me, but I declined every time. It felt selfish to sit and paint while Rhys was suffering.

And I wasn't sure I was ready to face whatever would be staring back at me from the canvas when I was done.

The four of them took to playing cards, something Cassian told me they'd done with other soldiers during the War, when everything either had been short bursts of danger or long, dull periods of waiting and dread between battles. Killing time before Tamlin's curse ran out felt like the latter. Azriel offered to teach me the rules—and some of the strategies that won him more games than the others combined—but I was content to just watch, sitting on the sofa with a blanket around my shoulders and listening to them talk. At times, I was still acutely aware that everyone there but me had centuries of shared history, but I could live with that.

In Night, I was just Feyre, not Feyre-the-human, and that made all the difference.

The night before I left, we didn't talk about what I was going to do. I didn't want to be fussed over, even if I was preparing to run straight into danger. And now I knew that they'd seen enough comrades off to war that all four of them knew how to navigate the situation. Fretting too much might just make me panic and lose my nerve.

That morning, I changed back into the clothes I'd come here wearing—it wouldn't do to let anyone conclude where I'd been. I took my bow and a few knives, ones that wouldn't have a maker's mark that could be traced back to the Night Court. Mor winnowed me to the very edge of the wards, glamoured me to hide my scent and tattoos, and gave me one last wordless hug.

I headed south for the caves.

Something akin to relief washed over me as I walked. Part of it was almost certainly the mating bond—I'd always feel a bit better when I was getting closer to Rhys. But beyond that, it felt good to be actually doing something for once. Nothing rankled me more than inaction in the face of a problem, whether that was my family's money troubles or Amarantha.

When I crossed the Night Court's border, back into the cave, my stomach flipped. I stood stock-still in the entrance for a while, just letting my eyes adjust before I pressed forward. I took a few deep breaths, willing the instinct to turn and run back to safety to subside.

I followed the path back the way I'd come after Calanmai, not sure where I was going beyond a general direction. Save the occasional drip of water in the distance, the cave was silent. This wasn't like hunting in the woods, where there was still distant birdsong or rustling leaves. This was a place devoid of life.

I lost all sense of time, but at some point, the cave walls became something unnatural, deliberately hewn out of the rock. A hall. I was close, then. A part of me wanted to tug on the bond, to send out I'm here I'm here I'm here, but that would likely prove deadly. I needed to get my bearings.

I turned another corner and found myself in a passageway lit by torches. The firelight wasn't strong, but after so much darkness, the light hurt my eyes. I pressed against a wall, trying to conceal myself in a shadow while I let them adjust again.

As I waited for the pain to fade, long, bony fingers wrapped around my arm. I bit the inside of my cheek to hold back a scream.

"Hello," a voice said, and at least it was a voice I recognized, even as I suppressed a shudder. The Attor. "What's something like you doing here?"

I let it drag me and realized we were heading towards the throne room. Or at least, that's where it was on the maps. The thought of getting closer to Amarantha ignited my anger, burning away the last of my fear. Faeries we passed leered at me, not a single familiar face among them.

As the Attor pulled me through the enormous carved stone doors, I felt the bond light up in my chest. Music played in the distance, and the throne room was crowded with fae—a party of sorts, and Rhys was among them somewhere.

The Attor hurled me forward, and I stumbled but didn't fall to my knees. I raised my head and looked at Amarantha through my own eyes for the first time. She lounged on an ebony throne, picking at her nails, the nails I'd seen scratching Rhys's skin too many times to count.

But the sound of my name pulled my attention away from her.

"Feyre?" Tamlin said from his place next to her. "You're alive?"

Even with the golden mask still covering his face, he looked rattled, almost as if he'd seen a ghost. I hadn't known how he'd react, but I hadn't expected him to go so pale.

Amarantha looked right at me and smiled like an adder. "Don't tell me this is the one and only Feyre Archeron," she said.

My blood ran cold. She was not supposed to know my name.

But I couldn't let her see the fear that was clawing at my insides—if my time in the Night Court had taught me anything, it was how to put up a front. I held my chin high and said, "So my reputation precedes me, then?"

Amarantha actually clapped at that, as if I were nothing more than a trained animal who'd just done a trick for her amusement. The crowd tittered behind me. Good. They'd hold off on killing me if I was more fun for them alive.

"Tamlin, you didn't tell me she was so mouthy. It must have made all your attempts to get her to fall in love with you so much more aggravating," Amarantha purred. Tamlin just sat in stony silence, though even from a distance I could see his jaw tighten. He must have recovered from the shock enough to realize that saying anything would just be giving her the satisfaction. Undeterred, Amarantha continued, "But that does beg the question: if Feyre is alive and well, whose corpse did you leave in Tamlin's garden, Rhysand?"

I followed her gaze over to where Rhys was sauntering through the crowd. By now, I'd thought I'd gotten used to the mating bond, but it took every ounce of self-control I had not to run and fling myself at him. And though I really should have been more concerned with who he might have murdered, all I could think about was how unfair it was for anyone to have that refined perfection of his, even when he looked at me as if I were something unpleasant he'd stepped in.

"She wasn't the only mortal out near the Wall on Calanmai, and humans all look the same. I must have mistaken the other one for her," he said.

A lie, of course. Rhys could never mistake someone else for me. I wasn't sure what he was up to, but if it made everyone else believe he'd kill me without a second thought, then we were both safer for it.

Perhaps this had been the dirty work he'd taken care of after sending me away.

Amarantha's voice went sharp as she said, "You're getting sloppy, Rhysand. Don't."

Rhys inclined his head at her, moving with the fluid grace of someone who'd been raised as courtier. "Apologies, my queen," he said, all polish.

I almost lunged for her right then. The hatred must have shown on my face, but I didn't let it go beyond that. Even if I could have killed her with my bare hands, Rhys deserved to be the one to pry her apart, not me.

Amarantha turned her attention back to me, and I stared back, waiting for her to look away first. She didn't scare me, even if she should have. "And the other question," she said, her voice now dangerously soft, "is what brought you here and why I shouldn't just kill you now."

A test, but one I was fully prepared for. Without hesitation, I said, "I'm here to claim my High Lord."

"Your High Lord?" Amarantha grinned and turned to Tamlin. A fatal mistake. I'd chosen my words carefully, practiced just so she'd wrongly assume instead of asking exactly who my High Lord was. "Oh, this is just marvelous. You actually got a human worm to love you after all. But she's here just a little too late, and isn't that a tragedy? I don't think I could come up with something more deliciously ironic if I tried."

Tamlin just continued to sit in silence, which was probably for the best.

"You tricked him and bound him unfairly," I said, all righteous anger. Never mind the fact that I was also tricking her at that very moment.

"And you think you're going to do something about it?" Amarantha said with a laugh that revealed her too-sharp teeth.

Perhaps it was reckless, but I said, "Yes."

Her laughter died, and she snarled at me like the beast she truly was. "I should kill you just for that, human. But since the curse has ended, I've been desperate for some new amusement. I'll make a bargain with you."

A familiar, sick sort of satisfaction washed over me, the same feeling I got as I watched the loop of a snare tighten around a rabbit's leg. I hadn't even had to suggest a bargain myself—she was walking into my trap all on her own.

"Complete three tasks of my choosing, and he's yours. Three little tasks. How hard could it be?" she crooned.

"If I complete all three of your tasks, you'll return his magic immediately," I said.

Perhaps it was a leap of faith, but if Rhys's power was returned to him, that was all we needed. He wouldn't let her kill me. Maybe it was the mating bond clouding my judgment, but that was the one thing I'd bet on every time. I decided to take the risk of leaving some loopholes open—if I seemed too adept at bargaining, she might suspect something.

Even that was enough for Amarantha to narrow her eyes at me. I was tempted to glance at Rhys for reassurance, but I couldn't give in to that. Instead, I did my best to look poised—not defiant enough that she'd change her mind and snap my spine, but not cowed, either.

"Lest anyone here think I'm anything but a generous queen—and just to see how smart you really are—I'll give you a faster way out. Before the third task is complete, you just have to solve a riddle to return his magic. You can answer at any time, but if you're incorrect, I'll have your dear Tamlin kill you in whatever way strikes my fancy. How does that sound?"

I turned that over in my mind and didn't find any loopholes to close, at least not with the riddle. The tasks, however, were a different story. "Tell me more about the nature of the tasks."

"One each month, at the full moon."

"And in the meantime?"

The words had left my mouth a little too quickly, and I held back a wince. Amarantha's eyes flashed, and I might have pushed too hard.

"You'll remain in your cell," she said pointedly, "or earn your keep doing whatever work I require."

I hesitated, thinking of the work Rhys had to handle that wouldn't leave him clean. She might make me a murderer again.

For Rhys, I'd do it.

It still left too many other ways for her to rig the tasks, so I said, "Running me ragged would put me at a disadvantage."

"Nothing beyond basic housework. Human filth earns its keep in my court. Are we agreed?"

As she waited for my answer, she tapped her nails on the throne impatiently. The hall had gone silent, the entire court seeming to wait with bated breath for my answer. There would be no more negotiating.

And that was fine with me because I'd gotten exactly what I needed from her, a viable path forward to return Rhys's magic. I suppressed a triumphant smile as I said, "We are agreed."

I'd won the first round, and I'd done it in true Night Court style—concealing everything so well that she didn't even know she'd been bested.

I let her sit back on her throne looking like a cat that had just caught a canary. Magic swept through the room. It left a faint trace in the air, the way the smell of lighting lingered after it struck.

To someone behind me, Amarantha said, "Give her a greeting worthy of my hall."

On instinct, I braced myself to take a hit just how Cassian had taught me—jaw clenched so it wouldn't shatter, knees bent, elbows and forearms protecting my liver and spleen. The Attor hissed. Something hard collided with the side of my face. I rolled my torso to minimize the damage, planting my feet so I wouldn't fall. I tracked the movement of leathery wings and dodged the next punch.

I took two more hits before I finally fell. My bones cracked. By then, I was in too much pain to count how many of them were beating me. All I could do was make a feeble attempt to protect soft places—my eyes, my stomach—until I passed out.

I woke in a cell, laying on my side as if someone had placed me there to ensure I didn't choke on my own vomit. My head swam, but I forced myself to my feet anyway, bracing a hand against the stone wall for balance, even as my legs trembled.

Each breath hurt, which probably meant bruised or broken ribs. I swirled my tongue along my teeth and sighed in relief when I confirmed for myself that all of them were intact despite the taste of blood in my mouth. That must have come from my swollen, split lip. The worst of it all was the throbbing pain in my nose, compounded by what were surely two black eyes. I didn't dare touch my face, but I suspected my nose was broken.

I took deep breaths and willed myself to stay calm enough to think clearly. The injuries hurt, but there was nothing that seemed to need immediate attention or threatened my life. That seemed like a deliberate choice on someone's part.

Fine. I would be fine. It was just pain, and I could white-knuckle my way through that, the way I had endured hunger for years.

Just as I felt confident enough to step away from the wall and bear my own weight, the light from the torches beyond the cell door winked out. I wasn't afraid. There was only one person here whose arrival would be heralded by darkness.

As if on cue, Rhysand appeared. It was the first—though certainly not the last—time that I saw my mate looking absolutely furious with me.

[samhatch]

ACOMAF Readthrough and First Impressions - Part 1!

Let's start with how I felt about the first book: ACOTAR

My general impressions of the first book were that it was alright. I really liked the world building, I love Prythian and the Spring Court, and I want to learn about the other courts. I love the characters, especially Lucien (big surprise) and Amarantha was an alright villain. I feel like she could have been foreshadowed a little more, and the trials made absolutely no sense to me (like, Amarantha already won. What benefit would she have gained from letting Feyre complete the trials? Bad deal, a fae would never.) But otherwise, the ending of Feyre becoming high-fae was satisfying.

My biggest complaint about ACOTAR was that Feyre never accomplished anything on her own. Everything she did was either greatly assisted by another character (Lucien helping her find the suriel, Tamlin getting her away from the puca) or just outright handed to her (Rhys in all the trials basically, and Lady Autumn with the clean up). Like, what is something Feyre does that is accomplished by her alone? Killing Andras, that's pretty much it.

ANYWAY, clearly I liked the book enough to want to keep reading though, so I won't bash SJM too much. If it was really so terrible, I wouldn't keep reading it lol! Again, the world is just so interesting, and I LOVE the Cauldron religion. What is that all about? I really want to know.

I just read through Chapter 5 of ACOMAF, so I'll start cataloguing my first impressions as I go through the book as a first time reader! I hope you find that interesting. I have a lot of thoughts!

[northern-lights-book-blog]

Book: A Court of Thorns and Roses (ACOTAR)

Author: Sarah J. Maas

Series: ACOTAR, book one

Book Length: 440 Pages

Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing

Overall Rating: 5/5 Stars

Blog Rating: 5/5 Saltire Flags

(THIS BOOK DESERVES BAZILLION STARS & FLAGS)

When nineteen-year-old huntress Feyre Archeron kills a wolf with an ash arrow suspecting it might be a fae due to its enormous size in the mortal forest. This fae wolf was about to eat her deer that she had been salivating for imagining the smell, taste and feast once being cooked. She had been hunting this deernand she desperately needed it to feed her family so they could survive the winter. Furthermore this was a rare find and they were nearly starving to death as it was and barely surviving! Therefore she killed the wolf and skinned both animals and sold their skins on market day in the nearby village.

Not long after market day an enormous terrifying fairy creature barges into her family’s home on the mortal lands demanding vengeance for killing his friend Andras who was another shape shifter! Her invalid father and two sisters were absolutely terrified when this beast demanded who the killer was which she admitted not wanting any of her family harmed for her decision. It was a life for a life, but this terrifying beast gave Feyre an unexpected choice- she could live in the magical world of Prythian for the rest of her life where she could live among the fae whom she was taught to hate always hearing horrific stories her entire life or she be executed in front of her family which would destroy them!

Feyre chose to live among the hated fairies in Prythian for the rest of her life. She would never see her family again, but hopes one day she would discover a way to escape and find her way back to her family in the mortal lands. Furthermore she knew it wouldn't be easy being a human living among the fairies who she was taught to hate her entire life.hated mortals for the rest of her life in Prythian. However, what choice did she have? It was that or being slaughtered right in front of her family which would have been so cruel, damaging and heartless where that kind of memory could seriously mentally damage them forever. It was as if this beast had ulterior motives knowing what Feyre would pick. She feels guilty as now she could no longer fulfill her mothers dying wish, where she had promised to take care of her family. This was the reason she was the one who learned to hunt and being her family's primary caretaker even though she was the youngest sibling. Basically this beast was abducting her to his home to the land of fae the magical fairyland where she would never see her family ever again!.

Feyre soon discovers that her captor is not truly the beast she thought he was, but a handsome fae/fairy shape shifter, but one of the lethal, immortal faeries who once ruled her world. She sees all the people in his castle have these masks but they can’t be removed due to a curse.She can also feel their hatred and is surprised they are told to treat her kindly. Unknown to Feyre but she is the only person who can possibly break this curse. She learns this shape-shifting fairy's name is Tamlin, who looks to be in his early twenties and is actually five hundred years old! He is strikingly handsome with beautiful green eyes and a warrior's body that would make any woman swoon! Even with the jeweled masks she can still see his beauty and eventually starts to see his kindness which is all very confusing to Feyre!

If you know the story of the Beauty and the Beast fairytale you will see many similarities to this story, except this is definitely an adult version and not for children in any way! Can Feyre get past all the fabrications she was told about fairies her entire life or will she make up her mind on her own? Also there is a deadline if this curse is not lifted and broken soon, Tamlin and his people will live in these masks for all eternity! Therefore these are the terms the evil Fairy High Queen of Pythian Amarantha created. All due to her hatred of humans and not accepting Tamlin’s rejection. Feyre is the only person who can break it. Will it be too little too late? Read and find out what Feyre and Tamlin’s fate will be.

This is a rare, riveting, magnificent, unforgettable romantasy novel that just absolutely blew me away! It was absolutely exhilarating and one of the best books I have ever read! Fall in love with the magical world of Prythian. I also love that this Prythian map is very similar to the United Kingdom map which I absolutely love. The author is so creative and definitely thinks outside the box. Maas is a phenomenal storyteller it is no wonder she has captured millions of reader’s hearts all over the world! . A book I will definitely be re-reading again. I can’t recommend this book enough!

A Court of Thorns and Roses

ACOTAR book is 1 440 pages

A Court of Mist and Fury

ACOMAF book 2. 640 page

A court of Wings and Ruin

ACOWAR book 3 721 pages

A Court of Frost and Starlight

ACOFAS book 4 263

A Court of Silver Flames book 5

ACOSF book 5 768 pages

[emilynyaesmp]

YAYAYAYAY TY *I say as I start shaking violently as if I’m abt to explode (I am)*

OK SO OMG OK HOLD ON I NEED TO GET MY THOUGHTS TO CALM TF DOWN AND STOPP GIGGLING GIDDILY OK HOLD ON

OK SO

*large giant breath in* SO LIKE AT THE VERY START WAY WAY BEFORE ANYTHING OF THE ACTUAL SERVER HAPPENS THERE IS THIS GROUP OF 4 PPL (we call them the OG 4).

Their names are Helios, Selene, Andras and Martha (can you tell whose name we put less thought into lmao) but basically Helios and Selene are siblings and are also BOTH shapeshifters!! Yay!! (This is VERY important later on. Remember this.) ok so Helios is more of a bird-shifter and his preferred form has hawk wings (hawks can be linked to justice in some cultures, again, important) while Selene is more or like a woodland creature shifter and her preferred form is a deer (less important, but kind of important). Andras and Helios are dating and so are Selene and Martha (IMPORTANT. VERY IMPORTANT)

Now here’s when the problems start

Andras goes down into a cave one day and finds The Core. This giant orb built out of crying obsidian and surrounded by weird purple water and stalagmites and yk. Cave stuff. Now Andras is an ambitious person, he wants a LOT of things, even if they’re not possible. Like, for instance, immortality!! Basically Andras gets corrupted by The Core (it kind of laches onto him?? Like it almost puts part of its soul???? Essence????? Into him), promising him immortality. Slight problem with that, it makes him a real piece of shit human being!! To the point HE FUCKING KILLS SOMEONE

yeah so Andras kills Martha. Selene finds her and is obviously very um. Upset, distressed even and she goes to her brother and Helios is all like “oh fuck no, this has Andras allll over it” so he runs over to Andras and he’s like “what the FUCK did you do?!” Bc. Yk obviously other than being his sisters gf, Martha was also Helios’ AND ANDRAS’S friend and Andras is basically like “yeah so I hate you, you all suck, I don’t care for you, nor your attachment to these mortals. Shapeshifters suck” that kind of stuff and Helios is like “WHAT THE FUCK???????” And like yeah so Andras pisses off and dies in The Core, but BEFORE THAT

Martha becomes the sun goddess when she dies. Later on when Selene dies, she becomes the goddess of the moon (and also forgiveness) and when Helios dies, he becomes the god of stars and justice (I told you to hawk symbolism was important)

Now, Helios is still pissed at Andras (whose ghost is stuck down in The Core) for killing Martha so he curses Andras to never be able to see stars, which is kind of his way of saying “I hate you” bc Helios has always loved stars (and also back when Andras had just recently became corrupted and was still a good-ish person he showed off fake stars to Helios as like a little gesture of love)

But Selene, being the goddess of forgiveness, soul bounds Andras to my character, Emi!!

Hey. Hi. Hello. May I, ur very own personal insane person, yap to you abt that lore server I’m in bc I’m insane abt it and I need to get my MANY MANY thoughts out

It can’t be like a trade!! But instead of like cool awesome stuff you get pure insanity at 11:42 at night!! Or well for you it’s 01:42 but um. The point is you get insanity at a unholy hour

Lmao sure! You deserve it after everything I've been putting you through

[shallyne]

Feyzrielweek Day 4: Spying

Not a fish, just a Mermaid

Spyiiiing. Might be a little cracky but who cares

TW: none

Azriel drags Feyre on a little mission

Feyre tugged the hood of her coat on, leaning against the tree. "Why do we have to spy on Cassian?" she whispered. It was cold, she was freezing and hungry. The last time she had to wait in a forest, freezing, it was when she had killed Andras. That was years ago now. It was great spending time with Azriel but they could have done something warmer.

"He's acting weird." Azriel answered, not even looking at Feyre. She could have asked for specifics but it was Azriel and it would have been a waste of time, he wouldn't answer if he didn't want to. So she kept a remark about Cassian being more or less always weird to herself.

"What do you expect to find here?" she asked instead. Hoping she would get the answers out this way.

"Answers." he replied. Eyes on the tavern in front of them. Feyre nodded, sighing. "Alright."

A few moments went by where they just sat in silence, watching the tavern. Feyre was glad that there was atleast music coming from the tavern, some band playing in there. She was used to sitting and waiting for hours. She did it for five years, she did it two times in Prythian, trapping the Suriel but she had to admit that Azriel was making her kinda nervous. "And what do you want me to do?"

"If he's not out an half an hour you need to shapeshift." Azriel said.

Feyre nodded again, continuing to watch the Tavern. They went silent once more until Feyre said "I won't shapeshift into a fish."

"What?" Azriel asked, looking at her. "Why would you need to shapeshift into a fish to sneak into a tavern?"

Feyre shrugged. "I don't know, you're not telling me anything."

Azriel sighed and went back to watching the tavern. "What is your problem with fishes?"

"I just don't like them." Feyre said. "They look so arrogant wiggling their fins."

"You mean swimming?" Azriel asked.

"Whatever." Feyre said. "They are arrogant and glibbery and stupid. Who would bite into a hook? I'd shapeshift into a mermaid, though."

"Wouldn't that be half fish?" Azriel asked.

Feyre chuckled. "Yes but half not fully fish."

"Mermaids don't exist, though. Just in made up stories." Azriel replied. She would have almost thought he was annoyed if Feyre didn't see the corner of his mouth tugging up.

"You think that." Feyre said. "I didn't know giant wyrms existed until I got chased by one. Or Bryaxis. Oh, I miss Bryaxis. Do you think he's alright?"

Azriel snorted. "He's fine. Probably scaring some poor Fae."

Feyre laughed, cuddling closer into her coat. They watched th tavern again for a moment until Feyre broke the silence again. "You know, just between family, between us two, do you have a thing for Cassian?"

"A thing?" he asked.

"Romantically." Feyre said.

Azriel leaned back, rubbing his eyes. "No, I am not in love with Cassian."

"Alright." Feyre said. A moment of quiet before she asked "Why not?"

"What do you mean, why not?" he asked.

"He's so nice." Feyre said. "He has a great personality and he looks fine. You can't tell me you never checked him out during training, when the sweat made his muscles gleam and he was panting and his hair was falling into his face."

"Did you?" Azriel asked.

"Yes, sometimes." Feyre admitted. "Don't look so scared, Rhys knows that."

"Feyre." Azriel sighed. "Are you drunk?"

"A little tipsy." she confessed. "I didn't know you wanted to drag me on a spying mission."

"And you couldn't have told me sooner?" he asked.

"What about your shadows?" Feyre asked. "And I thought you knew, I had a glass in my hand when you asked me."

"Cauldron." he murmured. "Let's go home before Cassian catches us."

"Too late, he's watching us." Feyre said. He did, he had spotted them a few moments ago and now waited. She waved at Cassian.

"What are you doing here?" she asked as she walked towards him.

Cassian rubbed his hands against the cold. "I asked the musicians to play something for...a present. What are you doing here?"

"Azriel and I wanted to go out, drinking something." Feyre said. "We just decided that we'd rather do it at home than at some dusty tavern. Do you want to join us?"

"Absolutely." Cassian said. Feyre linked her arm with his and grinned. When she met Azriels stare he gave her a grateful nod.

As if she'd give away the spymasters real reason why he's here when it was out of concern for his brother. Feyre held out her other arm out to link with Azriels arm. When they did she giggled. "Let's go get drunk!" she said. Cassian loudly agreed as Azriel sighed.

[billiebeanhoward]

Rise up - Ally Mayfair-Richards

A/N: This was requested by someone who chose to remain anonymous  :)

And by their request, Ivy was never married to Ally in this oneshot and Ally has always known your unconditional love and support

Prompt: Reader helping Ally through her phobias/anxiety/panic attacks and takes care of Ally when she needs it with the song Rise Up by Andra Day

TW: anxiety, trypophobia, mention of medication, fluff, comfort

Word count: 1115

gif is mine

"Al?" you ask tentatively. Your wife has been staring blankly at something for the last two minutes, but her body is in the way so you can't see it. You try to get a look at it but it's no use. "Ally, what is it?" She was making Ozzy his packed lunch for school tomorrow, but something clearly caught her off guard. You see her shoulders shaking a little as silent sobs wracked through her frame. "Baby," you're not sure what's causing this right now, so you slowly walk closer and place your hands to her elbows which only makes her flinch but thankfully she's distracted from whatever it was she saw, turning to face you, tears streaming down her face. Your eye catches the cheese grater in the corner. You scold yourself for not putting it away after preparing Ozzy's favorite cheesy pasta for dinner this evening. You give her a guilty look, to which she just shakes her head before wiping at her face.

"It's not your fault," she says to you with a wobbly voice. You quickly put it out of sight, in the one cupboard Ally avoids because it contains items that trigger her and you go back to the brunette, wrapping your arms around her tightly. Her head falls to your shoulder and her grip around you tightens as you hear her soft sobs again "I'm just so tired," she breathes, "So tired."

"I- I know, baby," your voice bubbles as you rub soothingly up and down her back, until her sobs subside, "Have you taken your meds?" you ask carefully, knowing this probably isn't the time but if she didn't take them this anxiety she's feeling right now could only get worse. She nods into your shoulder before placing a kiss there.

"I think -" she lifts her head to look at you, the concern you have only growing further as she looks at you with such sadness in her eyes, "I want to -" she looks away, frustrated she can't find the words, her breathing getting heavier with every single thought rushing through that pretty head of hers,

"Ally," you say, hands reaching for her again "Take deep breaths for me," you instruct but she just shakes her head quickly, her hands coming up to grip at her hair.

"I can't, I can't do this anymore!" she sobs, falling to the floor, but you catch her just in time and you pull her into your lap.

"Shh," you say, tears forming in your eyes. It always hurts you seeing her like this, it breaks your heart, it kills you. You take a shaky breath as she tries to calm down in the comfort of your arms, she's inhaling through her nose and exhaling loudly out her mouth, "That's it, baby," you coo as she holds onto you tighter as she does her breathing techniques and you just comfort her the best you can,

"I'm just so broken down and tired of living life on the merry go round," she says after a moment once she catches her breath, "I can't find a fighter,"

"But I see it in you so we're gonna walk it out," you say to her, giving a kiss on her forehead but she scoffs, lifting herself up from your lap.

"I'm ruining our lives, I'm ruining our son's life, being like this isn't -" she turns her head trying to avoid your worried gaze,

"No, Ally. You're gonna move mountains, we're gonna walk it out,"

"This is just," she pauses, wiping her nose as she gets up from the floor, "I think I'm gonna go to bed," she says and you don't stop her.

You take a deep, shaky breath as she leaves the room. It takes you a moment before you finally find the courage to get yourself up off the kitchen floor and you quickly clean up the mess Ally left on the counter and finish Ozzy's lunch for tomorrow.

"Mom?" you hear a soft voice from behind you and you turn your head to your beautiful little angel

"What is it, baby? Why aren't you in bed?" you ask him softly, quickly drying your hands on a towel before going over to him and he wraps his arms around your middle.

"Mom, didn't say goodnight," he mumbles, his face squished into your stomach.

"She's having a bad day," you tell him, not wanting to be dishonest with him, "She'll be okay though, I promise," you tell him, bending down slightly to look into his light blue eyes as he rubs them sleepily, "You go back to bed okay?" he nods at you and you ruffle his blonde locks, "I love you, Ozzy,"

"I love you too, Momma. Tell Mom I love her too, a lot," he says before he makes his way back up the stairs and you follow behind him, making sure to turn off all the lights downstairs.

When you enter your bedroom, you find Ally wrapped up in the blanket facing away from you, but you hear her sniffling. Your heart breaks all over again and you make your way over after shutting the door quietly behind you. "Ally," you say as you climb into the bed, wrapping your arms around her, "You will rise up," you say quietly as her sniffles continue to grow into sobs, "You'll rise like the day," you say and she turns her body around and snuggles her head into your chest, "You'll rise up unafraid and you'll do it a thousand times again," you lift her chin with your fingers to look into her soft brown eyes and her chin quivers at you, "You'll do this,"

"I know," she whimpers, bubbles rising in her throat again as she speaks "In spite of the ache, I will rise up," she says, a small smile on her lips as she looks at you, not taking her eyes off you this time not even for a second, "And I'll do it a thousand times again, for you,"

You give her a soft smile in return, your fingers tickling over her cheek, "And you," you say pointedly.

"I'll do it for me, Oz and you, us our family," she says

"When the silence isn't quiet, and it feels like it's getting hard to breathe and you feel like dying, I promise we'll take the world to its feet," you say and she snuggles into you closer, wrapping her arms around you "All you need, all we need is hope and for that, we have each other," you whisper to her, placing a soft kiss onto her hair.

"I love you, Y/N," she says, her voice now muffled by your shirt and you place another kiss onto her head.

"I love you too, Ally, and Oz loves you too, so much."

[yandereocs]

Yantober- Day 8: Sleep

Pairing: Andras x reader

CW: Mention of rape

You weren't even safe in your sleep.

You were so happy. You had thought that as long as you sleep, you would be safe. Away from the demon that torments your daily life.

But no.

He figured out how to follow you into your dreams, too.

"Get awake from me!" You shrieked. The demon put his hands up in the air, his calm expression only annoying you even more.

"I am not here to harm you. I only wish to keep you safe from any nightmares." He said.

You backed away from him, even though he wasn't moving. "Why are you even here?!" Your question didn't come out as you meant it to. Panic was making you fumble your words.

Andras tilted his head. "I already told you. I wish to keep you safe from nightmares." He repeated. You shook your head. "No, no. I meant-why are you even doing that in the first place?!"

Andras blinked. "My brother fell in love with a human many, many years ago. I never understood. But now I do." He stepped forward and you backed up. "I've never felt such an intense feeling before. You were the cause of this, so it's only natural that you should help me figure it out, yes?"

"NO!"

Andras clicked his touch, his wings fluttering.

"I don't want to harm you." He repeated.

Your eye twitched. This guy was insane. He's some random demon who started following you and watching you with no explanation, and now he's expecting you to help him deal with his feelings?

Andras popped up in front of you. You screamed and fell backwards.

"I need you. My life has been boring for oh so long. You make me feel alive." Andras extended a gloved hand to help you up. You scooted away from him.

"Your feelings aren't my responsibility! Just leave me alone!" You snapped. Andras blinked at you, his two different colored eyes unreadable.

Eventually, he bowed his head. "As you wish." He said, disappearing in a blink of an eye.

~

You've been having nightmares. They were horrible. In these nightmares, you were tortured, kidnapped, killed, raped, literally every horrific thing you could imagine. You couldn't sleep. You were afraid of being met with another terrible dream.

You didn't know what to do. You're exhausted and caffeine was starting to lose it's effect on you.

Well, you did know what to do, you just didn't want to do it.

You sat on your bed, bouncing your leg up and down anxiously. You haven't seen Andras since you told him to leave you alone. You were glad at first, but now you want to ask him if he really can ward off your nightmare.

You swallowed dryly. He had respected your wish to leave you alone, so maybe you can make a deal with him? He protects you from nightmares and you'll allow him to watch over you again?

You don't want to have the demon following you again, but you were worried that he wouldn't agree to help you without some benefit to him.

"A-Andras?" You stammered, cringing at your voice. A few seconds went by, and nothing happened. You fiddled with your hands.

"Andras? Can you...um...can you come out here?" You tried again. Again, nothing happened. You sighed and decided to just give up for the day. You had no clue what it took to summon a demon.

You laid in bed, desperately trying not to sleep, but failing anyway.

You didn't even realize you fell asleep until you woke up in the same meadow where you told Andras to go away.

"Hello, my love."

You turned around, meeting the eyes of Andras.

"Andras!" You gasped. You were relieved, but also uneasy. You hoped he wouldn't take your relief as a sign of you returning his feelings.

Andras blinked at you once again. "I heard you calling for me. But I was unsure if you would want to see me in the waking world." He tilted his head.

You nodded. So, he had heard you. You fiddled with the hem of your shirt. "I... I've been having nightmares." You confessed. Andras's expression didn't change.

"I assume you want me to protect you from them?"

You nodded once again. You were glad you didn't have to ask him outloud. Andras hummed and closed his eyes, kneeling on one leg and bowing his head. "I'll be glad to protect you, my dear."

You sighed in relief. You expected him to say more, to ask for something in return, but he didn't. All he said was that if you required assistance with anything else, he would be glad to be of service.

You stomach was filled with butterflies to the point where it hurt. "Thank you." You said. Andras nodded, still kneeling.

"It's my pleasure."

~

Andras adjusted his hat, watching you sleep peacefully. He was annoyed. It has been his older brother's suggestion to give you nightmares, and he was annoyed that it worked. His brother said that once you had seen was life would be without him, you would come crawling back.

Andras narrowed his eyes. He didn't like seeing you distraught. He especially didn't like that he was the cause of it.

But it didn't matter. You were happy once again, and better yet, you were relying on Andras.

The demon smiled, reaching out to caress your sleeping face.

That was all that mattered.

[georgescatcafe]

the rising chariot — 1

rating: t  warning/s: none pairing/s: platonic dream team, karl jacobs/sapnap genres/tags: percy jackson and the olympian au, friendship, angst summary: Nick Pappas isn’t sure it’s normal for teenagers to be sent across the United States on a quest that could potentially kill them, but Nick has started to realize that everything he thought was normal is entirely false. George Davies doesn’t particularly want to spend three consecutive days with this new camper and that son of Hermes who snagged his win in Capture the Flag two weeks ago, but he knows he has to suck it up and go with them, no matter how irritating they may be. Clay Bryce just wants to prove himself and show that he’s more than that troublesome kid from Cabin Eleven, but even as the leader of this quest, he’s not sure how to when Nick has fire powers and George is practically capable of mind-control.

Yet what they feel and want will mean nothing if they don’t complete their quest. When a petty feud between gods has Apollo threatening to take the Sun from the sky, the three must head out to stop him, but not just that—they’re in a race against an ancient enemy of the god, one who definitely will try and kill him if it gets to Apollo first.

+ao3 +masterpost

Despite what the papers said, Nick didn’t mean to burn down his school. The only reason he wasn’t going to prison was because no one died and the police couldn’t find any solid evidence that it was his fault. That is, other than the fact that when the building stopped burning, there was just him standing in its charred remains, not a single hair on his head harmed. But seriously, he didn’t mean to burn down his school. Yeah, he hated sitting through English as much as the next kid, but he didn’t hate it enough to commit arson.

Not to mention he was turning sixteen in three days. Why would he actively try and get into trouble three days before his birthday?

But that wasn’t really a new problem. The burning, that is. Maybe on a grander scale this time—he’d never burnt down a whole building before—but he’d always had an unlucky relationship with fire. Or, his mom would call it lucky, if you overlooked the whole I burn everything I touch thing. She used to just laugh at the soot sprinkled across the living room carpet and run her fingers through his hair, telling him to only play with fire if he knows he won’t get burned. (And he’s never gotten burned.)

The last time he saw her, she was staring at him through the back window of a police car.

After that, it was like she was never there. Nick still thought about her, though, when his stepdad, a rigid, heavyset man, kissed his new wife on the cheek and patted Nick on the head like he’s still five and not fifteen-and-eleven-months, and he thought about her when it was his turn to stare at his family through the back window of a police car.

It was just a single policeman, polite and unassuming as he explained the full situation to Nick’s parents, and his parents just wanted to get this out of the way, so when the cop told Nick to get in the car, they didn’t protest, and Nick took his seat, the window cool under his palms as he watched his stepdad and stepmom get smaller and smaller.

“I really didn’t mean to do it,” Nick finally said, turning back to the officer.

“I know, son,” the cop in the front seat replied.

“Then why are you taking me?” he asked.

The cop didn’t reply.

Nick turned back to the window, watching building after building pass by. He tried to read some of the signs, but the letters got all jumbled up, and eventually, he just sighed, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on the window, pretending that the vibrations of it didn’t bother him. By the time he bothered sitting up again, the bustling city had disappeared and field after field stretched endlessly around them. Nick curled a hand around the seatbelt pressing into his chest.

“Where are we going?”

Again, the cop didn’t reply.

Nick tugged at the seatbelt. “Can I not ask questions anymore?” He tried to open the door, but it was pointless. The thing was locked, and every time he tried to undo the lock, it would pop right back into place. NIck turned back to the cop. “Look, man, I really didn’t mean to do it, and if you believe me, that’s great, so I don’t know why you still want me here. If you just let me go home—”

“That’s enough, Nick Pappas,” the cop finally snapped, and Nick’s eyes widened at the sound. His voice was raspy, and he pronounced his ‘s’s weird. “Be a good kid and sit quietly.”

“I just want to know where you’re taking me!” Nick banged his fist on the window, only wincing for the shortest second when it sent a tingle back up his arm.

“I said enough!” And then the car was veering off the road, Nick was flung into the window, seatbelt digging painfully into his chest and waist, ears ringing from hitting his head on the glass, and the cop was twisting out of his seat, stretching out over him, hat falling aside to reveal long hair, lips parting to reveal sharp, glistening fangs.

Nick scrambled back as far as he could, seatbelt constricting his movements. “I don’t want trouble! What is wrong with you?” He kicked at the cop, letting out a strangled gasp when his foot met soft flesh and not hard muscle. “You’re not even a guy!”

“And you are no uselesssss mortal either!” the cop hissed, grinning even as its fangs pop, terrifying and fascinating all at—the cop sprung forward, and nope, just terrifying, not even close to fascinating.

Nick was never particularly flexible, but one time he heard about a bus flipping over with a kid inside it and the kid’s mom pushed the bus back over all on her own in some crazy fit of adrenaline. He had the hazy thought that something similar might be happening then as his foot makes contact with the cop’s face and the fangs dig into the sole of his shoe instead of his face. In the seconds he had to spare, Nick quickly undid his seatbelt, flailing as the cop grabbed at his shoe and pulled, throwing off his balance. The satisfaction of smacking it in the head was small in comparison to the fear that welled when he saw rage flicker in its eyes.

“I don’t even know what you are!” he choked out when the cop-not-cop made another pass at him. “Let me go!” With each word he aimed another kick at its head, but most of his kicks missed, and dread continued to fill him up as all his pathetic fighting did was enrage the thing.

“You ssssstupid boy!” the maybe-cop-probably-not seethed. “I am Sssssandra the Sssssupreme! One of the mossst powerful dracaena in the mortal world right now!”

The information meant nothing to Nick. He finally landed a kick on the center of her chest, sending her back into the front seat as he worked furiously at getting the door open. “Okay! And I’m Nick Pappas and you really don’t want to hurt me!”

“Oh, but I do!” Sandra hissed because that’s what she was doing, no way else to describe it. “Your death would be sssssplendid for me!”

“Not for me, though!” Nick argued, screeching when rough hands grabbed at his waist and fangs were once again in his line of sight. “Let me out!”

He banged against the door some more before turning back to the—what’d she say?— dracaena, heart pounding as nails dug into his waist and fangs filled his vision. He swallowed, wondering if it would be better or not to look death in the face before deciding it’d be worse, a lot worse, and squeezed his eyes shut.

Nick was mentally preparing himself for the end, when there was a muffled noise from outside the car, and then the shattering of glass. His eyes flew open even as shards of glass continued to rain down onto him and the snake lady from the window opposite them. And there, between all those sharp edges, stood a short ginger kid that, had Nick been in a better state of mind, he would remember from his classes. As it was, however, all he saw was his savior, holding a hammer tightly in his hands, cinnamon hair glowing in the fading sunlight, and eyes absolutely filled with terror.

“Are you okay?” the kid shouted as the dracaena screamed above Nick, who did his best to push her off of him and open the door from the outside.

“We have to go!” Nick replied, grabbing the boy by the wrist and running, uncaring of where they went, so long as it was away. “That thing back there is not a cop!”

“You’re right!” the kid agreed, looking quickly over his shoulder before letting out a sharp noise and running faster.

With a bit more space to breathe and think, Nick could finally recall who he was: Floris, who, although they weren’t very close, he sat with more often than not, the dude letting Nick copy his notes and never pressuring him about paying attention in class—except for certain times, like in World History, when they were talking about Greece, and Nick had said his family was from there, and Floris turned to him with wide eyes and asked, “You know?” As if everyone didn’t have at least some clue as to where their family was from. After that, Floris would nudge him every time he started to nod off, pointing to the screen and reminding him to listen to the teacher. It was weird, but he just brushed it off as some ginger thing. Gingers are weird , man.

That seemed truer than ever now, watching Floris run with a hammer and his lopsided gait. “Do you know what that thing was?” Nick asked, shouting over the wind that had picked up in the fields.

“Do you?” Floris replied.

Nick checked over his shoulder. He could still see the car, left behind in a ditch, glass twinkling like stars across the asphalt, and—“You’re about to find out!” He took the hammer from Floris and threw it at the dracaena , cursing when all she did was duck out of the way. It doesn’t even hit one of her tails and oh, wow, she has two tails. The day just kept getting weirder.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered to himself, even as Floris yelled at their lack of a weapon.

“You have to do something!” Floris argued, turning to face him, gripping him by the shoulders and shaking him. “Or she’ll kill us both!”

“I know,” Nick swallowed, his own hands coming up to cover Floris’s, “I know.” He turned back to the dracaena, who continued to approach undeterred. “I can—I have to do this.” He stumbled as she hissed at him, fangs on full display once again. “Um,” he held out his hands in a stop motion, “look—we wouldn’t be better off dead! You want us to live! You really want us to—”

“Nick!” Floris snapped. “What are you doing?”

“Something!” Nick replied. “I’m doing something!”

“That’s not something!” Floris shook. “Doing something is burning down the school because you heard a kid talking bad about your mom—do that again!”

“I didn’t mean to burn down the school!” Nick looked at Floris in desperation, only for the dracaena to reach them, hissing and cursing their names. “I just—I wanted—I didn’t—”

“You are the ssssame as her,” the dracaena’s words became clear now that she was closer, “ssstupid, pathetic, unable to ssssave the one who needssss you most. Prepare to die, Nick Pappssss, son of—”

“Shut up!” Nick shoved at the dracaena, but that wasn’t what got her to stop. His hands were engulfed in flames, pressing into the snake lady’s police uniform, setting the cloth ablaze, sending smoke into the air and forcing a scream out of her throat. He pressed harder into her chest. “Shut up about my mom! You don’t know her! She didn’t do anything wrong! Shut up!”

He held his hands to her chest as she burned, his own chest heaving, lungs working in overtime as his brain attempted to understand everything it just witnessed. Everything it just experienced.

The dracaena’s screaming finally stopped, and then, there was just quiet.

Nick watched as her ash blew away into the wind, sunlight catching it and spinning it into gold. Flames flickered between his fingers before he curled his hands into fists. He turned to Floris. “I don’t know what just happened.”

“You,” Floris said timidly, “just slayed a monster.”

Nick grimaced.

Together, they walked in a tense silence, the sun setting to their right, moon rising to their left, up until Floris cleared his throat.

“What she said, about your mother—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“It’d be good to, though,” Floris tried. “It’s not good to keep all those things to yourself like that. They eat at you.”

“I think I know what’s eating me and what’s not, thanks.” Nick kicked a pebble, sending it clattering down the road ahead of them. “Talking—feelings talking—isn’t really my thing.”

“Still,” Floris said, “it’s worth a shot.”

Nick frowned, staring out at the open road ahead of them, town still a bit away. “What does it even matter to you?” He looked to the other. “You barely know me. We just sit next to each other in class. Who cares about my mom?”

“You do.” Floris stopped to pick a dandelion from the weeds growing along the road. He held it out to Nick. “And I thought we were friends.”

“We’re not in elementary school,” Nick replied, but he accepted the dandelion anyway. He puckered his lips, blowing out a stream of air and sending the seeds flying. 

“Did you wish for anything?” Floris asked, watching the seeds scatter throughout the sky.

Nick dropped the leftover stem to the ground. “No. And if I had, I wouldn’t tell.” He crushed the stem underfoot. 

They kept walking.

The sun set as they went, making the asphalt beneath their shoes glitter and shine. Not a single car passed, and Nick couldn’t stop the unease that crept up on him as they left the cop car behind them.

“Hey,” Floris said. “It’s fine.”

Nick looked over at him, disbelieving. Though no longer racing, his heart still pounded in his chest, and his limbs felt like jello, loose and clumsy. It was hard to imagine going home and sleeping, like he hadn’t just almost been killed.

“I mean it,” Floris continued. “You won. It won’t be coming back any time soon. You survived.”

Nick nodded. He survived. He’s not dead—he’s breathing in fresh air, listening to the night breeze, watching the streetlights reflect on the road. “It’s just,” he made a vague motion with his hand, “scary.”

With the action, he found himself watching his fingers as they curled and splayed. His hand, which had been encased by fire not long ago, skin unblemished and tan. As if there had never been any fire there in the first place. He let it fall back to his side.

He didn’t want to think about it anymore. He didn’t want to think about it at all.

They continued their walk in silence.

By the time they stopped in front of Nick’s doorstep, the moon was halfway through the sky, and Floris yawned every three seconds next to him. Nick straightened, clearing his throat. “Thanks,” he said. “For earlier. I could’ve died without you.”

Floris studied him. Nick stared back. Eventually, Floris reached a conclusion, whatever it may be, and gave a shrug. “You would’ve done what you had to do eventually.” Nick opened his mouth, but he continued: “I’m happy to help, though. That’s what I’m here for. Seriously.”

Nick frowned as the ginger bid him a cheery goodnight before turning on his heel and leaving, Nick standing alone in the doorway.

When Floris was gone from view, Nick faced the door, wiggling the doorknob to find it locked. He sighed, pulling out his house key. His brain was still struggling to process… everything, and his body was trembling minutely from shock and leftover adrenaline. He felt completely drained, exhausted, ready to collapse at the first sight of a cushion. It was brute strength he used in making it to his room and into bed, where he fell onto his Paris-themed comforter (don’t ask) and fell into what seemed to be the hardest sleep of his life. Right before he slipped into dreams, he wondered if perhaps he had died in the cop car that day, and this was all just an extra long hallucination.

[whitecatindisguise]

Give Him A Chance To Mend 5

Time for another chapter, people 😁

AO3 link here

Chapter 5: Here In This Hell It's Sinking In

Varian didn't fight back, as the guards locked his arms in shackles and pushed him inside the prison cart. There was no point. His automatons were destroyed, he had no alchemy… and the Princess' hair didn't free his father, as he hoped they would.

Ruddiger, ever faithful, scrambled after his and climbed the alchemist's frame, curling protectively around his neck. The guards either didn't notice or didn't care. They locked the door and the cart started the slow journey back to the capital.

Varian doesn't remember the trip. There is a blank spot in his memory, starting from the moment the barred door locked and ending when they opened back at the castle square. He was flanked by two guards and escorted down to the dungeons, his apron, goggles and gloves taken away. He fought them when they were taking his goggles.

"They were my mother's!" He cried. "Please, it's the only thing I have left of her."

But they were deaf to his cries. They tried to take Ruddiger too, but the raccon growled and swiped it's paws whenever any of the guards got too close, sitting stubbornly on Varian's shoulders. They let it go after one of them got scratched and the other bitten. There was no way of capturing the raccoon. It was staying.

He was led down, down, down the stairs, passing corridor after corridor of cells. The prisoners looked his way in surprise, whispers trailed his path.

"Is this a child?"

"What is he doing here?"

"Did the King lose his mind even more?"

Varian clenched his teeth and kept on going, the familiar weight on his shoulders reassuring him of his animal friend's presence.

Finally, the guards stopped in front of the small cell. There was a tiny bed by the wall, and that's it. One of the men unlocked the door and the other pushed the alchemist inside. The metal door slammed shut behind him, the key turning in the lock.

"You will stay here until the King decides your fate." One of the guards said. Then, they walked away.

It was a moment later Varian finally let his facade drop. The tough villain act fell and what was left was a terrified boy, shaking like a leaf. He slid down to the floor, the severity of his actions finally getting to him.

Treason. He commited treason. He kidnapped the Queen, endangered the life of the Princess and attempted murder on both the Queen and Princess' Lady-in-waiting and the Captain of the Guards' daughter. He can be executed. He should be executed. That's what the citizens will demand, he was sure of it.

He didn't notice he was hyperventilating until his vision started to fog. Ruddiger chittered anxiously, pawing at his face to snap him out. He reached his hand, his ungloved hand, and buried his fingers in the raccoon's fur.

He didn't want to die. His dad was still trapped in that amber. He was the only one who could get him out. He has to save his dad.

The alchemist's whole frame shook, breathing becoming faster and shallower by the second. Suddenly, a piercing pain shot from his ear. He cried out and reached for it, his fingers touching something liquid and sticky. Drastic measure, but Ruddiger managed to forcefully stop the neverending spiral Varian got himself into. The teen took several more shaky breaths, no more being stuck in a terrified state.

He was still scared, yes. But he no longer hyperventilated, so that was an improvement. Ruddiger climbed down from his shoulders and made himself comfortable on Varian's laps instead. The alchemist hugged his furry friend close, awaiting his fate.

~~~~~

He didn't know how much time he spent in that small cell. Guards came and went, checking up on him, bringing water and plates of some grey goo for him to eat, and glaring at him from behind the bars. Varian, for the most time, didn't pay attention to it, curled up in the corner, Ruddiger in his arms.

A sound of the lock opening took him by surprise. The guards didn't open the door when they brought food. Did that mean he was finally getting the trial?

Two guards were standing outside of his cell, the third one walking inside, a pair of shackles in his hand.

"Stand up, hands where I can see them." He barked. Varian obliged, seeing as his chances of escape were close to none.

The shackles locked around his wrists with a metallic click that sent shivers up the teen's spine. The guard eyed him warningly and motioned for him to start walking. As soon as he left the cell, the other two guards flanked him, each putting a hand on one of his shoulders, while the third led the way. To Varian's surprise, they didn't go up, but down again, descending to the lower level of the dungeons.

"Where are we going?" He asked. Wasn't he supposed to get a trial? Isn't that how juridical system worked?

"Your cell has been decided." The guard at the front replied, not sparing a glance at the teen.

"The cell- what about a trial? Don't I get one?" He questioned, confused about the situation.

"Shut up, alchemist." The guard barked back, anger seeping through his teeth. "Be grateful the King didn't order execution. Not for now, anyway."

"Not for now? I don't-" Varian was getting more and more confused by the second.

Before he could say anything more, the guard stopped in front of one of the cells.

"Back up and face the wall." He said. Varian was just about to oblige, when another voice sounded from behind the bars.

"Alright, alright. What's the rush?"

"You're getting a cellmate." The guard simply said and unlocked the door. He turned to Varian, unlocked his shackles and pushed the teen inside, before slamming the door shut again.

"Wait! What's going on?" The alchemist ran to the bars and gripped them, shouting after the leaving guards.

"Get used to the cell, boy." The guard called back, a smirk on his face. "Because it will be your home for the next four years."

The sadistic smile he got in response made the teen freeze in terror. The implication was obvious. In four years, he will be eighteen. A legal adult. And once that happens… there will be nothing holding the King back from ordering his execution.

"Is that a joke?" A male voice sounded from behind and Varian whirled around to face his cellmate. "Is Corona throwing kids into prison now?"

The man was in his early twenties, dark hair tied in a high bun, green eyes and wearing a fur overcoat. He stared at the alchemist with a mixture of bewilderment and annoyance.

"I'm not a kid!" Varian bit back defensively.

"Sure you aren't." The man chuckled and sat at one of the beds. "What did you do, anyway? Stole a candy or something?"

"I stole the Sundrop Flower from the Royal Vault." The teen replied angrily. "Amongst other things…" He added more quietly.

"You stole the-" The criminal stared at him dumbfounded. "Woah, I guess good old Freddy didn't take it kindly."

"Actually I'm here because I also drugged held of the castle with truth serum, kidnapped the Queen, forced the Princess into using her hair in a drill of my design, and almost killed the Queen and Princess' Lady-in-waiting." Varian blurted out, since he might as well share the full scale of his abilities to his cellmate.

"Oh, so you're this Alchemist everyone has been going on about recently." The man exclaimed and looked him over, shrugging. "I thought you would be taller."

"I'm just a proof Corona's security is so bad even a child can get through." Varian mentally slapped his face for referring to himself as a child, but it served its purpose.

The man grinned at the choice of words and laughed.

"Good one. You definitely did that." He nodded and reached out a hand towards the alchemist. "I'm Andrew."

"Varian." The teen replied but didn't shook the man's hand. Ruddiger growled at him from his place on Varian's shoulders and the teenager patted him comfortingly.

"Well, Varian." Andrew's grin never left his face. "I have a feeling we're going to get along just fine, buddy."

"We'll see about that." The younger mumbled in response and made his way towards the other bed, siting on it, Ruddiger jumping down to claim his laps instead.

They sat in silence, thoughts of imminent death by execution returning. He tried to shake them off, but how can you ignore a threat like that. So he opted for a distraction instead.

"So what are you in for?" He asked, looking at the man on the other side of the cell.

"Tried to steal a journal. Got caught." Andrew replied mysteriously. Varian wrecked his brain, trying to remember something about stealing journals. It took a few seconds to click.

"Oh, you're that Saporian guy who tried to woo Cass...andra and steal Herz Der Sonne journal, but for your butt kicked instead." He said and watched the man's face morph into an emotion he couldn't quite place.

"They got lucky. And I was alone." Andrew tried to argue. "If my team was here-"

"I got half of the Corona wetting their pants in fear and the other half scrambling to fight my automatons." Varian countered. "You got caught because you didn't plan for other possibilities than the one you hoped for."

"Should I remind you were caught too?" The Saporian tried to argue.

"The only reason I lost is because the Princess touched those stupid rocks and somehow now decided to control them, and not months ago when they were destroying my village!" The alchemist yelled, acid seeping from his voice. "And now she is on her merry way to sun-knows-where, happily oblivious to everyone she hurt just because she didn't want to be the one hurting."

"Seems to me like you got a bone to pick with Her Royal Hairness." Andrew smirked.

"She broke her promise, ignored me for months and only started to pay attention to me when I threatened everything she loved, because she was oh, so happy, she couldn't see all the bodies she left behind her." Varian's anger was growing and he clenched his fists in frustration. "She's all about friends and promises, but in truth she's just a liar, like all of those upper-class jerks. She only indulges herself into things that benefit her and don't force her to leave her little bubble of happiness."

Andrew listened to the younger's ranting, nodding once in a while. The alchemist once in a while thought he saw his cellmate grin or smirk, but it was gone as soon as he blinked, so maybe he was imagining things.

"Woah, they really did a number on you, buddy." The man said finally, after Varian finished his monologue. "But that's royalty to you. They don't care about anyone but themselves and their happiness. So what people are getting hurt in the process."

"I know, right!" Varian exclaimed in agreement. Ruddiger chittered on his lap and the teen took to petting the raccoon again, the action comforting to him. "The moment you try and get actual help, you're treated like a villain and hunted like a wild animal." He huffed angrily. "I want them to pay for what they did."

"Maybe one day, buddy." Andrew said mysteriously, to which Varian rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, right." He buried his face into Ruddiger's fur and didn't say anything else. He missed the smirk that appeared on Andrew's face, as he observed his new cellmate.