#and making sure i've got proper nutrition and hydration to help it work the best and not tear up my digestive track

[dredshirtroberts]

okay note to self: it takes approximately 2.5 hours (fed and hydrated properly) for the ibuprofen to kick in enough to give me the ability to move *some*. It does still hurt but oh god is it less than it was.

[littlest-w01f]

Chapter One

Series Masterlist

CW: Angst

50 years, 50 long years... Well, 50 years, 3 months and 1 day if anyone was counting, which she was.

Every day was the same for the past years, Velaris was dark, the darkness didn't come from the night, but from sorrow. Everyone felt an absence of their beloved High Lord. They all mourned him, feeling the last of his power when they tried to leave Velaris and were met with a forcefield that had glamoured their city, making it invisible to Amarantha's magic, adding another layer of protection to the City of Starlight just like their previous High Lords had.

Rheana stood at the edge of Velaris like she had every day since her brother was taken from her, her wings out and stretched for flight. She waited for the feeling of her brother's magic to spike, but it never did. After her initial panic, she destroyed the shield he had created to alter it with just a simple thought, creating her own glamour to hide her city so their Inner Circle could go in and out as they pleased. She and her sister, Morrigan, had taken to rule over Night Court. Mor took over The Court of Nightmares, those few who were spared the so-called High Queen's wrath, Rheana was sure it was to just throw it in her father's face of how powerful she was now, nearly untouchable, while she ruled over Velaris and kept the Illyrians from revolting in the absence of a power keeping them in line.

When her mind started screaming at her, Rheana flew to Illyria, sometimes she would spar with any Illyrian male who thought he could best her or she would teach the girls who would watch her beat up a male larger than her, despite Devlon's wishes for the young females to stay in the house and help their mothers. She found peace in teaching the girls to fight, she saw something of herself in the hoard of teenage females that she taught. All of it was a good distraction for half the century that made her want to peel her skin off, the hollow of her heart had only increased as the days went by.

If physical aggression couldn't calm her mind, she would lock herself in the library of the House of Winds, greeting Clotho curtly and sitting on a soft couch, reading books till her eyes crossed and she couldn't see straight. She had managed to study everything in the giant library twice and talked to some of the priestesses who worked there. One of them had suggested she talk to the female who helped them with their trauma but she had denied it, thinking how could her trauma compare to any of theirs.

Her mind snapped back to her body when she felt a playful shove of Illyrian wings. "Hey Rhe, I got you some food."

She turned to meet Cassian's eyes, her eyes softened seeing her friend. "Cassian..." She shoved him back with her wings, a greeting of 'hello' that they had since they were children.

Cassian and Azriel, her oldest friends, were the only were who made sure she ate and was hydrated. Azriel himself threatened to shove some proper nutrition she needed down her throat if she wouldn't eat willingly. While Amren rolled her eyes at their motherhen antics, claiming Rheana wouldn't die of some unhealthy choices.

"Rhe, you there...?" Cassian waved his large hand in front of her face, making her snap out of another trance, she went in and out of the maze in her mind a lot after losing Rhysand.

"Yeah, yeah..." She nodded, made her wings disappear and sat down next to him on the grass, taking the basket he'd gotten her. "I've just been thinking."

"The usual?" Cassian sitting next to her, wrapping a wing around her. She nodded back, chewing on some meat he'd brought her. The usual, Rhysand, the Illyrians, Rhysand's safety, the priestesses in the library, and Rhysand being dead.

"It's been 50 years... he's dead..." She swallowed hard, "Amarantha hasn't died, if she had he would've been here 3 months ago."

Cassian leaned into her as she forced food down her throat, he and Azriel had been the only ones who kept her from breaking down about her brother's life at any and each moment. "I'm sorry, something must have been going on-"

"I hate not knowing what's happening to my own brother!" She exclaimed and cut him off, Cassian let her get up and pace around. "We don't know nothing of what's happening Under the Mountain, what she has planned, who..." She inhaled deeply, her siphons glowing purple, "Who all she might have killed until it's always too late! There is word in the wind that my brother killed two dozen Winter Court children. He would never. Not children." Her voice broke slightly, not wanting to think of the fact that whatever was happening to him Under the Mountain might have... No, she would not think that.

Cassian stood up after her, stroking her back to calm her, "Rhysand must have thought of something, and besides, you would feel it." He pointed to her chest over her heart, "Right here... Even if you can't feel his magic, you would just know, if there was evil in your blood or if he was dead."

She knew what he meant, whatever was in their bloodline was a lot different than they had ever seen, it was a different type of fibre that connected their blood. Connected them on another lever. Powerful children of a powerful man. The only blood family either of them had left alive.

When he pressed his fingers over Rheana's heart again, she gasped, and she felt a sharp rush of power. It wasn't her power. It was his power. She looked up at her giant of a friend with a wide smile. Her violet eyes were suddenly full of life. Velaris also felt it, as little the power was, of its High Lord's return.

"Rheana... What's wrong?" Cassian asked before correcting, "What's so right?"

"He... He's." She gasped again. "We need to get to the House of Winds."

She flew before Cassian registered her words, her wings spread wide as she leaned forward to fly faster. She saw a pale figure standing in the House, she felt it in her, and her insides sang his name. Her brother. Her family.

Rhysand... Rhysand is safe... Rhysand is alive...

She stood next to him too fast, and the two eyes met, beings made from the same thread of fabric, they each took a step closer to each other, there were no words said, but everything that needed to be said was heard.

Both of them were glad that the other was there. Alive. Just an arm's reach from each other. Safe, safe, safe. The power in their blood sang.

He looked like a ghost, and she would have thought he was one, she had dreamt of this moment so long she wondered if this was just another dream. But he was not a ghost, not as a smile appeared on his lips, he took another step towards her, Mor appeared behind them a worried look on the female's face as he fell into Rheana's arms, and Rheana noticed the lack of muscles on him, noticed how pale he was.

"She's real, Rhea... My mate is real. She's my mate." Rhysand whispered before passing out in his sister's arms.

It was silent since Rhysand had returned, he had only said one sentence to Rheana before he passed out. She had decided against bringing their entire Inner Circle to see him at once, given that he hadn't woken up.

She had almost cried when she was able to lift him up like he weighed nothing, had she been able to lift him under any other circumstance, she would've teased the hell out of him. But there was nothing funny about how much weight Rhysand had lost in his captivity, nothing joyous about Rhysand being so thin that she could nearly see his bones in some places. It spooked Rheana that whatever went down Under the Mountain turned him into nothing more than a pale, thin, tired creature after fifty years of it. Her brother, the High Lord, was so weak it cracked her to pieces.

Rheana tucked her brother in his bed at the townhouse in the clothes he'd worn when he had winnowed back at the House of Winds, she set the messy hair that had now fallen over his face back, they had grown a lot since the last time she'd seen him, she despised the physical changes she saw, not liking that thought of equally scaring mental changes. She watched him, taking a seat next to his bed, he looked so tired and tensed in his state, and she kept her breathing quiet, feeling that he might be disturbed by any light movement.

The bargain tattoo on the right hand's pinky finger hummed against her skin, the word 'Alltaf' written in cursive, surrounded by swirls of starlight. An old fae language. She looked at his hand to see the matching tattoo in the same place but the word 'Aeternum'. Their oldest bargain. Her eyes followed his hand to the thinness of his arms. She'd only ever felt the way she did looking at him once, felt so melancholy, she couldn't help her mind wandering to escape from her body. To that one awful day. The awful memory.

Rheana was sitting moodily in the House of Winds, her father had put wards up in the house so that she couldn't leave the place even by the 10,000 stairs. Her father and brother had gone after the Spring Court royalty that had taken the lives of her sister and mother. Her mother and sister's final words were still ringing in her ear, their deaths should have been her revenge to take too, but Rhysand had not taken her side and watched as her father locked her in the house.

It had been a few days since that loss, she could feel the hollow darkness in her father's eyes that stayed long after he'd screamed so loud she wondered how it hadn't deafened her and her brother. The sound was so gut-wrenching their hearts broke the same every day just remembering it. When her father had scented the Spring royals in the air, he had vowed to kill them all. The loss of his mate was felt by everyone in the court. A male as powerful as her father, with the loss of his mate and a child, was just a chemical waiting to give off a deadly reaction.

After she was brought back home, Madja was instantly by her side, a new healer back then, she had helped bathe Rheana and put a tight bandage on her. As days passed, Madja tried every salve, but the giant gashes the High Lord of Spring had given her would only scar, never heal. Her scars of shame, she would call it while trying to look at the wounds in a mirror. Three large, perfectly symmetrical claw cuts on her back, half-healed forever.

She'd fought trying to join them in their murder spree but that had ended with her father locking her up. She waited for them, and as the minutes passed by she grew worried.

Had they been ambushed? She wondered. No... Her father was more powerful than the High Lord of Spring. She reminded herself

After half an hour of worrying, the shield her father had put up fell, which meant either that he wanted her to come to them or... she would not think of the other reason.

She felt Rhysand winnow in the House of Winds before he did, he carried a newfound power with him when he landed in front of her. She looked at him, seeing her brother covered in blood and guts of the Spring heirs. There he stood, not just her brother, but the High Lord of the Night Court. The two siblings wordlessly rushed to each other and melted in a tight hug, falling to the floor, Rheana not caring about how foul Rhysand smelled, or that her clothes were getting dirty as they both silently cried in each other's hold. Only knowing one thing, that the other was safe and they were to keep it that way.

"Wake up, brother." She whispered to a sleeping Rhysand, she had refused to finish eating the food that Cassian had brought back for her, she would only eat after her brother was up, and she would eat her meal without her brother, which was a week ago.

It had been a week since he had returned and he had not moved an inch, she could feel his heart beating low, there had been a cut on his chest that had bloodied his shirt making her rip it off and call Madja instantly, seeing the cuts and bruises, bile rising in her throat seeing some whip lashes, to be marked by some lashes, she couldn't fathom what he was hit with, or how frequently. Madja had put bandages on his cut, and a salve on the lashes, some of them in his skin while some were still fresh enough to look red. Everyone had come to visit him one by one after, while she had not moved much at all from her spot, she'd only done so to put another top on him and cover him with a blanket, so that he would not get cold. Or to cut his hair back to his usual hairstyle.

She also noticed a new inking at his hands, making her wonder who he had bargained with and what he had given away.

He thinned every day, he grew more pale than when he had arrived each day of that dreadful week and she feared her brother might not wake up. Her hunger didn't matter, she hadn't had a bite of food or a sip of water, and she'd starved for way longer than that anyway. Azriel had decided against being true to his words and let her be with her brother while he visited, not forcing her to neither eat nor drink.

"Please wake up, Rhysie... Please, I need you." She gripped his hands, a tear falling from her eyes. As she said those words, the tattoos on both their little fingers began to glow. Their bargain began to glow, as if energising at the contact and the words.

"I need my brother. I need him." She said more to their bargain now. It was as if the tattoo and their bargain itself gave Rhysand most of his colouring and muscles back. Gave him his health back.

His heart picked up a faster and steadier pace, and the High Lord of the Night Court woke up with a startled gasp.

{Taglist: @anuttellaa }

[savingspoons]

Getting Inked with Chelsea B

So, my sleeve is complete and I fucking love it. Take a look!

Since I was old enough to know what tattoos were, I wanted them.  After a few hours in the shop, I leave knowing myself a little more than when I went in. My body now more of my own design, something I can smile at in the mirror.

It may sound odd to some, having a pain inducing disorder and choosing to have pain inducing hobby. I have to save up so many extra spoons for tattoo days and for the days that follow. I even time my days off at work around appointments so I can get extra rest. But looking at my ink, well I think it gives me back some spoons.

Fibromyalgia makes me feel very out of control. It makes my body rebel against itself with pain.

But a tattoo that’s something I chose, I chose the way it looks, where it’s placed, and I make the choice to take the pain. Getting to take control of my body is empowering and vital to my sanity.

  My disease might be invisible, but I am not.  My tattoo’s help me to feel seen. Even if I’m holding onto the wall or a stairwell railing for support, now I look cool doing it. Right?

  This is Riverside Tattoo parlor in Savannah, Georgia. Where I spent 5 sessions with Chelsea Beckworth getting inked.

 This place has the coolest vibes. Riverside is Savannah’s very first fully queer-owned and operated tattoo studio.

There I am, hanging out before one of my appointments because I am super early for everything But I've always got a book with me so that's never a problem. Speaking of....

If you haven't read The Butcher and the Wren by Alaina Urquhart, run to your nearest bookstore and get yourself a copy. This thriller by the co-host true crime podcast Morbid is a MUST read and I am seriously on edge waiting for the sequel to release this fall.

Literally Could not have picked a better artist, or person. I mean look at this doll!

Chelsea was more than understanding about my medical condition and made sure to let me know that this was at my pace- not to apologize for needing breaks or anything else.  During our sessions she was super chill when I needed to adjust how I was positioned – because we all know how great fibro is not being able to be in one spot for more than 20 minutes without pain.

Going in for that first session I was excited and scared. My last tattoo was in my twenties and that’s been more than a decade ago.

Ugh. Did I really just type that?

With some minor hick-ups, like after my third appointment getting the tattoo flu because I didn’t take care of myself after - with plenty of rest, hydration and proper nutrition.

 Yeah, that sucked.  Or how I had to reschedule the 4th appointment because my HRT shot went awry sending me to the emergency room… A little over a year and a half later we were finished, and I now have this beautiful black and gray sleeve forever.

Now I want to tell you about Chelsae Beckworth as I totally believe she deserves recognition and just ugh everything. Honestly-This chick is the best. We met for coffee at the absolute cutest little café not 3 minutes’ walk from the shop, the morning before my last appointment.

Sitting across from me relaxed and chatting with the barista’s of Superbloom I find Chelsae Beckworth drinking her iced latte-extra shot- please and thank you ma’am.  She looks just as at home here as she is two streets away at Riverside Tattoo Parlor where she has worked for the last 3-4 years. This self-described earthy girlie who loves lizardling in the sunshine is a Taurus whose playlist includes everything from Celine Dion to Shania Twain and podcast like Two Hot Takes and Trixie and Katya.

Aren’t we all listening to Trixie and Katya though?  If not, you should be.

When asked how she would describe her personal artistic style without missing a beat Chelsea said, ‘Cutesy but with some darkness to it’.

Immediately this came to mind, because this is totally the vibes Beckworth gives off.

Having a background in makeup then finding herself in the world of tattooing and becoming an apprentice from her mom’s friend from church makes the above gif even more spot on. She tells me that one of the hardest parts of her job is the imposter syndrome the comes along with it and having people see her separate from her job. She’s not just a tattoo artist she’s also someone who loves to cook and go rollerblading, a cat mom of two, and someone who hates getting tattooed.

Just look at these cuties- Beans and Brussels Sprouts

When deciding which artist to work with it’s always a good idea to pick someone who enjoys doing the type of work you’re looking for. (Realism, traditional, watercolor, neo traditional, trash polka, new school, fine line) It generally makes for a better piece of art in the end. Some favorite of Chelseas are pin ups, heavy line work, small and quick projects and she also is looking forward to working on traditional pieces in the future. My sleeve was a much larger undertaking and I totally played tattoo pizza with her at times (can we add this here, what about another bee over here? Sorry Chelsea!) but she smashed it and I think I can safely say we both had some fun getting this done.

I asked Chelsea to send me what her favorite tattoo’s she’s done, and these are a few that she sent- I mean lets be serious everything the woman does is fabulous people.

If you find yourself in the low country and need some ink. Go visit my girl Chelsea and in her own words - " Come get cool tat and lets chat".