#mai is bejeweled boy

[thelien-art]

When the world domination doesn't go as excepted...

I´m not resistant and never claimed to be.

Meme reference:

[meanbossart]

Do you have any tips for drawing DU drow? i really like there face composition ( i think that's the word? ) and want to try to take a swing at drawing them myself!

Oh boy, I can try!

Here's some faces I doodled really quickly and split from the guidelines so you can kind of see the process. The main thing you gotta remember with him is that his bone structure may be strong, but his features themselves are fairly Small. Small eyes, small nose, small mouth - I think that's what gives him that "cute guard dog" look that folks seem to like so much. Also while his brow-bone juts out a bit, the rest of his face is fairly Flat.

His skin has a brownish-gray tone as a base and is supposed to be very reflective. Usually, this means it has a blueish hue as highlight, but depending on the environmental light that color could honestly be anything. I take a lot of liberties with this and just strive to give his skin a "bejeweled look". I also apply some red patchiness throughout most of his body, but it really stands out around his eyes and ears the most.

I've changed how I draw his face a little since I started doing bg3 art, he used to have thicker eyebrows, different lips, and a more "herculean" face in general, but it just wasn't giving me the look I wanted. These are roughly the "guidelines" I follow for him currently.

And of course his very annoying chest and arm scars LOL I frequently get these wrong myself so I don't ever expect art of it by others to recreate it 1:1. Mind you that these are supposed to follow the curves of his body, which is why they may look weirdly straight here.

The ones around his wrists are also completely improvised every time I draw them, so they don't have any kind of set pattern that I follow at all.

Hope this was helpful!

[callsign-marlie]

Hey Pretty Girl

The Five Times Jake calls you his favorite pet name + one bonus little baby taste of angst :3

pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x f!reader genre: FLUFF warnings: unedited, light teasing and innuendos, mention of pregnancy and child birth, no y/n used a/n this is total fluff and it was just what I needed. very short in comparison to my normal things but i almost wanna do all of the young pilots with this prompt and a different quote each time, it was so wholesome ;^;

Please feel free to like, comment and reblog. Much appreciated and much love - marlie x

---

The First

“Hey pretty girl, slide me a bud, will ya?”

Blonde hair and blue eyes, a coy smile. Tanned skin pinched with a glaze sunned pink at the top of his cheeks and a clean pressed khaki uniform. The cap popped off of the glass with a fizz before you slid the bottle to him. “$5.50 for the boy in brown.”

“The boy,” he scoffed. Thick fingers gripped around the neck of the brew to coat his nails in condensation. The amber liquid swirled the enclosure of glass as he placed the rim to his lips. His eyes never left yours. “Not a boy. A man, darlin’. More of a man than any one you’ve had before tonight, I can assure you that.”

“And who said I wanted you, fly boy?” Your elbows were on the bar, leaning over the mahogany top. Even with the challenge of cleavage at your disposal, he never broke away from your gaze.

“Your eyes say enough. See ya soon, gorgeous.” He scribbled his name on the merchant copy of his receipt. A wink, the shine of a grin, and away he turned. 

You grabbed at the soggy slip of paper to find chicken scratch handwriting with ‘Jake’ and a phone number written on the bottom. Jake, huh?

The Second

“Hey pretty girl, that spot’s perfect. Just like me, right?”

He had bought you a bundle of sunflowers on a whim. They were gorgeous and tall, standing bright against the navy of your entry way in the antique crystal vase your mom had given you. Jake had cleaned up nicely in a crisp button down and slacks for your date to the local brewery down on the coast and had bought the bouquet for you on the ride home from a local farm stand. “Now you can think of me every time you leave the house and smile to start your day.”

You rolled your eyes, an endeared grin on your face. “You’re an ass, Seresin.”

“Maybe, but I’m your ass and that makes me the best ass around,” he chimed, jokingly hitting the back of his rump. “And this ass ain’t leavin’ for quite some time doll.”

“Then tell me, baby, what happens if the flowers die? How would I ever remember you then?” You lovingly wrap your arms around the top of his shoulders, careening up on your tiptoes to touch his nose with yours. 

His fingertips brushed a strand of hair that roguishly fell into your eyes. His eyes were the color of sea grass and his gaze was softly focused on your lips.  “Guess we’re just gonna have to go on more dates so I can get you more, right?”

The Third

“Hey pretty girl, may I have this dance?”

The reception was over and your feet were on fire, but you were finally home in your little shared apartment on base. Your hand, now coveted by a new diamond wedding band, sparkled under the high hat lights as Jake helped you up from the couch to the smooth sounds of John Mayer echoing in the background. Your white gown sweeped against the floor as he pulled you to his chest. 

Jake, your perfectly perfect Jake, dropped a soft kiss to your forehead, to the tip of your nose, to your lips. “Mrs. Seresin,” he whispered at each pass of his lips. You let your bare feet stand atop his, still encased in his military issued loafers and let his strong legs take you on a slow rock in your living room. It was the first time today that the two of you had been just alone: where the room wasn’t vibrating with clinking glasses or loud party music. 

Jake swayed with you gently even as the song changed, his hands dropped to your waist to rest on the crest of your bejeweled bum. You raised an eyebrow at your cheeky husband, who simply rolled his eyes and gave a boyish grin. “Just let me enjoy this baby.”

The Fourth

“Hey pretty girl, lemme help you, hold on.”

Jake’s large hands snuck underneath your rounded belly, lifting just enough weight to let your spine relax under the constant pressure of pregnancy. The dishes you were washing were suddenly forgotten and slipped from your fingers. A blissful sigh. “Ohhh, that’s the stuff, don’t stop.”

“Damn, all of my talent in bed and I’ve never heard you sound like THAT before,” he huffed, slowly letting your belly back down. “All I had to do was lift up peanut here and you’re putty, huh?” 

You pouted at the returning strain and snatched his hands back to place. You tilted your head to the side to leave a kiss and a teasing nip on his bicep. His fingers tickled over your skin in amusement.

“Uh-uh, don’t even think about it, Seresin. You stay right there.”

The Fifth

“Hey pretty girl, I’m your daddy.”

Tears were welling up in his eyes while he held the small pink bundle in his arms. She was so sleepy after making her grand entrance, kicking and yelling the entire birth. “Oh my god, I’m your daddy!”

“She looks just like you.” You were laying in your bed, completely spent, but glowing after all of your hard work pushing your new little love into the world. “You’re gonna be a great daddy, Jake.”

“And you’re gonna be a great mommy, honey girl.” He carefully made his way over to the bed and sat on the side to let your little girl close. Her eyes were closed and soft little breaths were leaving her mouth. Jake leaned over to plant a chaste kiss into your hair, your nose, your lips. He lingered longer than normal, touching his forehead to yours. 

“My pretty girls. All mine, all mine, until the day I die. I’ll never want nothing more than this.” 

Bonus: The Sixth

“Hey pretty girl, I’m alright.”

You launched yourself at your husband, tears streaming down your face. He winced under your arms, but did his best to wrap himself around you through all of the wires tubing he was attached to. Safe. His smooth hands rubbed up and down your back as you sobbed into his shoulder, leaving light taps on his back. “Don’t. You. EVER. Do. That. Again.”

“What, eject? It’s either that or die, and I’m too good to die while I’m still so young and handsome. You don’t want me to leave you a widow so soon, do you?” His megawatt smile showed reassurance, but you weren’t so sure it was real. You knew Jake better than he knew himself. His eyes, blackened from his impact, held something behind them that wasn’t there before: a fear. His façade was cracking at your worry.

“You won’t lose me, pretty girl. I’ll be here. I’m not leaving.”

“Promise me?” Your eyes just wouldn’t stop tearing up. “Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.” His fingers made an ‘x’ over his heart. “And I really, really don’t wanna die. I have my whole life with you to look forward to.”

[jester-lover]

Hi I would like to request the Twist dorm leaders with their s/o forcing them to get (or just to go with them) to get snake bite peirceing!

Snake Bites

dorm leaders with an s/o who has snake bites!

cw- piercings, blood mention, fluff, a lil insecurity, all around wholesome, gn! reader

( I couldn't find a good snake bites gif, so take Moomin)

Riddle

Riddle definitely grew up thinking piercings were unsightly or unrefined, but he quickly discarded that thought process seeing you enchanting you looked with your snake piercings

If your snake piercings are new, know that this boy will have you on your salt water regiment strictly, he will not see you suffer through infections!

He is definitely a fan of golden jewelry, and he may gift some to you on your birthday

“Dearest, remember to clean your piercings before classes today!”

Leona

Leona thinks your piercings are so cool, I mean look at him, the guy dresses like a grunge cowboy

If your piercing is new, he’ll be a little curious, asking if you bled or if it hurt, he cares about your well being

He loves lip rings, he thinks you look great with them

I feel like Leona would love having body mods, but really can’t because of his royal status, so he’ll be 100% supportive of yours

“The rings look better, more outgoing.”

Azul 

Azul has learned from his own childhood to not judge others based on appearance, especially not his own s/o. He likes your piercings for the way that they differentiate you from the other students, individualism is his bread and butter after all!

If your piercing is new, he’ll be extra careful not to snag or bother it accidentally, remembering to hug you with a tilt

In his own opinion, lip studs are better than rings, he especially likes the shiny bejeweled kind

“You truly are sparkling, my treasure.”

Kalim

Kalim is not unfamiliar with piercings, his own ears are pierced! He loves having an s/o with piercings/ body mods, because it gives him another excuse to spoil you rotten

If your piercing is new, he’ll have trouble not being as affectionate as he usually is, but he’ll manage

He buys you so much jewelry, he absolutely loves just surprising you with new jewels, and the price tag is the least of his worries

“I finally found the artisan who made my earrings, and I got him to make you matching snake bites.”

Vil

Vil adores your piercings, specifically if you let him give you little makeovers

If your piercing is new, he’ll keep you on a strict regimen, there will be un unsightly bumps, bleeding or sore skin on his watch

His most favorite thing to do when styling your snake bites is adding simple silver rings, and matching them with silver eyeshadow

“Now, liebling, keep your head still so I don’t spread the pigment to your nose.”

Idia

He thinks you look so awesome, like the rebellious character in a video game, which is why he’s really excited to ask you about your piercings

He’ll be a little surprised by all the care you have to put into maintaining a piercing after getting it, and he’ll admire you for making the commitment to your look

Idia gets the issue of getting weird looks, so he always knows how to uplift you when your feeling down

“So, you have to soak it in salt water two times a day? What happens if you wake up late?”

Malleus

Oh humans and their delightful little arts and crafts!

He finds himself enamored with the piercing process, asking you so many questions about the pain levels and how often you have to take care of it

Malleus loves your piercings so much, probably because he feels like you match him aesthetically with them

“Lilia had piercings just like those in the 2000s, don’t tell him, but in my own opinion you are far better suited to them.”

This is a scene/emo! Lilia stan account. (maybe a future fic idea?)

[her-satanic-wiles]

Welcome to my masterlist!

Commissions are open!

My future plans (Available to Bishops and higher, all are commissionable if you want to read them faster.)

All my fics, unless stated otherwise, are 18+. So please proceed with caution, and minors do not interact.

If it has a red DF, it means it's dark fiction, and you should heed the trigger warnings. I would actually recommend to people 21+.

If it has a blue S, it means the work is sapphic.

If it has a purple A, it means the work is achillean.

If it has a green GN, it means the reader is gender neutral.

If it has a pink PS, it means the reader is plus size.

No bound copies, translations, or other derivative works of these fics may be created or distributed without express permission from the author, for monetary gain or public use.

Major thank you to @da-rulah for beta reading all of these!

If you like what you've been reading, why not consider supporting me over on Ko-fi?

Enjoy your stay!

Series

Coming soon...

One shots

Titfucking, (Kinktober 2023) PS “Earthly Delight” by @thew0man ART

Glory Hole, (Kinktober 2023) GN

Pregnancy, (Kinktober 2023)

Series

Divine Desires [COMING SOON] PS

You grew up in the Catholic Church as the daughter of a very powerful Cardinal. However, in your early adulthood, the reigning Pope dies, and the title falls to your father. You learn, as the daughter of a Catholic official, that there are two sides to every story. This lesson is taught by your Satanic counterpart, who does his fair share of opening your eyes to the world around you.

One shots

Hate Sex, (Catholic!Reader) (Kinktober 2023) ⛧ Part 2

Public Sex, (Kinktober 2023) DF (21+)

Lupercalia

Bejewelled

Series

Coming soon...

One shots

Collaring, (Kinktober 2023)

Medical Play, (Kinktober 2023) GN

Threesome or moresome, (+Era 3 Ghouls) (Kinktober 2023) DF (21+)

Thigh Fucking, (Kinktober 2023) PS

Double Penetration In Two Holes, (ft. Cardinal Copia) (Kinktober 2023) A GN

Teratophilia, (Kinktober 2023) DF (21+) PS

Time Travel Prompt (Ko-Fi exclusive drabble)

Outdoor Sex (Ko-Fi exclusive drabble) GN

Series

Hellish Delights ⛧ Masterlist DF (21+)

After a ritual went wrong, you were left to deal with the consequences. Since that fateful night, your moral compass smashed to pieces and you began to feed into your deepest, darkest desires as you continue to come to terms with the traumatic night in question. With the help of two of the people closest to you, you take part in the ultimate sins of the flesh.

Lost in Translation ⛧ Masterlist

As the newly appointed Cardinal Copia struggles with the weight of a looming prophecy, a resilient scholar challenges the narrative, uncovering a conspiracy that reaches beyond the walls of the Ministry. The emergence of a forbidden love ignites a rebellion against a power-hungry Sister, whose thirst for control threatens to reshape the very foundations of the Church. Will the revelation of those schemes lead to liberation or plunge the Ministry into chaos?

One shots

Pegging (Kinktober 2023) GN

Praise Kink, (Kinktober 2023) PS

Olfactophilia, (Kinktober 2023)

Double Penetration In Two Holes, (ft. Papa Emeritus III) (Kinktober 2023) A GN

Free Use, (Kinktober 2023)

Midnight Surveillance DF (21+)

Succin the Ghocc (Ko-fi exclusive drabble)

Tulips and Daisies

Series

Coming soon...

One shots

Dubcon, (Fan roleplay) (Kinktober 2023) DF (21+)

Orgasm Denial (Kinktober 2023)

Deepthroating & Face Sitting (Kinktober 2023) DF (21+)

Mary "Piss Boy" Goore PS

Era 3

Alpha

Series

Coming soon...

One shots

Threesome or moresome, (+Era 3 Ghouls & Terzo) (Kinktober 2023) DF (21+)

Gale

Series

Coming soon...

One shots

Threesome or moresome, (+Era 3 Ghouls & Terzo) (Kinktober 2023) DF (21+)

Moss

Series

Coming soon...

One shots

Threesome or moresome, (+Era 3 Ghouls & Terzo) (Kinktober 2023) DF (21+)

Omega

Series

Coming soon...

One shots

Threesome or moresome, (+Era 3 Ghouls & Terzo) (Kinktober 2023) DF (21+)

Stream

Series

Coming soon...

One shots

Threesome or moresome, (+Era 3 Ghouls & Terzo) (Kinktober 2023) DF (21+)

Eras 4 & 5

Aurora

Series

Coming soon...

One shots

Food Play (Kinktober 2023) S

Cirrus

Series

Coming soon...

One shots

Sensory Deprivation (Kinktober 2023) S

Cumulus

Series

Coming soon...

One shots

Sex Toys (Kinktober 2023) S

Dewdrop

Series

Realm of Souls ⛧ Masterlist DF (21+) A

In the eerie moonlit forest, you are ensnared in a nightmarish game of hide and seek with the malevolent entity Dewdrop, whose demonic force has targeted you. The chilling objective is to survive until sunrise, seeking refuge in the Ministry’s cabin deep within the sinister woods. With the dawn as your only salvation, you must navigate the haunted forest, outwit the relentless demon, and reach safety before Dewdrop claims you as his prize. The race against time intensifies, making the night unforgiving as you strive to survive until sunrise in this twisted pursuit.

One shots

Stuck in Wall (Kinktober 2023) DF (21+)

Panic Attacks and Comfort (ft. Swiss) SFW.

Mountain

Series

Coming soon...

One shots

Size Kink (Kinktober 2023) GN

Spanking (Ko-Fi exclusive drabble) GN

Phantom

Series

The Cardinal ⛧ Masterlist

You got a promotion, and a new promotion means a new uniform and your very own Ghoul-in-training! That Ghoul just so happens to be your closest friend, Phantom. However, your new uniform and position does something to Phantom that gets harder and harder to deny.

One shots

Coming soon...

Rain

Series

Coming soon...

One shots

Rimming (Kinktober 2023) GN

Swiss

Hellish Delights ⛧ Masterlist DF (21+)

After a ritual went wrong, you were left to deal with the consequences. Since that fateful night, your moral compass smashed to pieces and you began to feed into your deepest, darkest desires as you continue to come to terms with the traumatic night in question. With the help of two of the people closest to you, you take part in the ultimate sins of the flesh.

Coming soon...

One shots

Panties & Lingerie, (Kinktober 2023)

Breathplay, (Kinktober 2023)

Panic Attacks and Comfort (ft. Dewdrop) SFW.

Papa Emeritus Nihil

Series

Coming soon...

One shots

Breeding (Kinktober 2023) DF (21+)

Sister Imperator

Series

Coming soon...

One shots

Coming soon...

[twstbookclub]

Inked Blossoms

Summary: Jamil didn't think much of you when he received a flower basket. You were his new neighbor running a flower shop—nothing more, nothing less. So, why can't he stop coming by after visiting you once? POV: 2nd Person Pronouns: Gender-neutral Admin/Writer: Cressa🦋 Tags: Tattoo Artist x Florist AU, Tattoo Artist!Jamil, Florist!Reader, Fluff, Romance, Angst, No happy ending, sorry folks, Mentions of Blood and Self-harm, Use of Flower Language, Jamil's POV Word Count: 4, 025 Main Reference for Flower Meanings: Boeckmann, C. (2023, November 17). What does each flower symbolize? The Old Farmer's Almanac.

And I thought the Riddle fic I wrote is my longest one 💀 I actually had this plot in mind in the same month as I thought of the Riddle fic, which was back in April of last year. I only put in one link here, but I fact-checked every flower I used in this fic with other sources. Admittedly, when I wrote this, I received some heartbreaking news that morning and I cried my eyes out. I may or may not have projected those feelings into this and incorporated my previous experiences here. To all the Jamil stans, I'm so sorry that my first fic of this guy is long and angsty. I hope you all enjoy, though 💕

Jamil stared at the flowers on his parlor’s doorstep. Pink peonies and coral roses filled the twine basket, along with a purple flower that he didn’t know the name of. The arrangement emphasized the purple flowers, while there were a few peonies mixed in with the roses. What piqued Jamil’s curiosity were the leaves that lined the edges of the basket. He squinted, subconsciously leaning down to peer at the blooms at his feet.

“... Is that basil?” He mumbled, confused about the inclusion of a familiar herb. It was something he often used in his cooking, particularly when he was roommates with Kalim back in high school. That boy’s palate was too refined for anything bland and ready-made, so Jamil always had to cook with spices and herbs. It came to the point that the smell stuck to his clothes, even after a thorough wash in the laundry. Not just his clothes—even his hair. He already had a meticulous process with his hair care and bejeweled braids, so it was a nuisance.

He shook his head, before he took the flower basket in his hands. The blooms jostled a little, and a gentle hand pushed a peony back in place. Something nagged at Jamil to look to the left, for some reason. When he turned his head, the sign of the shop next door caught his attention.

“A flower shop, huh.” That was new. Jamil vaguely remembered this lot being sold recently, but he never thought it’d be turned into a store like that. It used to be an antique store owned by an elderly woman. She minded her own business, despite the weird and judgmental looks he received for the henna tattoos that decorated Jamil’s tan hands and arms.

Jamil’s eyes darted from the cursive letters of the sign to the flowers and plants displayed behind the glass walls. The name of the shop was painted on one of the walls in gold—above some of the artful arrangements of red roses, white carnations, and calla lilies. There was a shift of color behind them, and he narrowed his eyes again for a better look.

Someone was tending to the flowers. He could vaguely make out the color of their hair and the verdant apron over a white polo shirt. With the large bouquets in the way, Jamil couldn’t see a face. Sighing and shaking his head, he walked into his tattoo parlor with the flower basket in his arms.

If all his time in the city taught him anything, it was that nothing in this world was free.

Still, Jamil couldn’t help but wonder what the purple flowers were. They reminded him of tulips, but the petals were thinner and pointed at the tips. The stamen was visible, too. It was a stark contrast to the blooming tulips he knew: blunt-tipped and oval petals without the stamen being visible. He made a mental note to search about them once he went home.

Jamil found out that the purple blooms were called crocuses, and he wound up finding a website detailing the meanings of every flower imaginable. The flowers replaced the lamp that used to be on the table next to his bed. Every morning, he’d wake up to the colorful arrangement in a vase with his mind stuck on the meaning of each flower.

Maybe he should see what the florist was like. If they were like the antique shop owner from before, then Jamil would just remain polite and ignore them whenever he could.

On a slow and quiet day in the parlor, Jamil flipped the sign and locked the door. He shoved the key in his pocket, while his eyes drifted to the flower displays and bouquets through the glass walls. A blur of white and green moved behind them, but he still couldn’t put a face to the florist.

Jamil would have to see if he was curious enough to put a name to that face, too.

A chime echoed in the store once he stepped inside, and an onslaught of fragrance hit him. He noted that it wasn’t as powerful as the smell of spices, ones that he can taste from the scent alone. Still, it was strong enough to leave him a little lightheaded.

“Ah, welcome!” A voice rang through the back, behind an open door that led to what Jamil assumed was a small greenhouse. Sacks of fertilizer and clay pots filled with flowers peeked out of the metal shelves. The sight was obscured by a green apron, stitched with the same cursive letters of the store sign.

Charcoal gray eyes met lively, cheerful ones. The gloved hands that gripped the door frame were smeared with soil, maybe even fertilizer. Dirt smudged your cheek, but his gaze drifted to your lips. Your smile—too bright to be natural—was difficult to look away from. Something churned in his chest the longer he looked at it.

“Oh,” you mumbled, which made Jamil look back into your eyes again, “you’re my next-door neighbor. Hi! I hope you like the flowers. I’m, uh…”

A sheepish chuckle left your lips, making Jamil’s heart lurch. He resisted the urge to scowl at the feeling. He just met you, and he’d rather not make a bad impression. The tattoo artist came to your store to meet you like a proper neighbor, not to antagonize you.

“I came by to say hi, and you weren’t there. I had to get the shop ready and all, so I decided to leave the basket and hope that it stays there—” You sighed, took off one of your gloves, and ran a hand through your hair— “and I’m rambling. Sorry about that.”

Jamil watched you, anxious and fidgety, and he suppressed a smile. There was something amusing about how you acted like a mouse: squeaking and retreating at any sign of danger. Although, he highly doubted that you saw him as a threat.

You were just… shy. You talked a lot, but you were shy.

“It’s fine,” Jamil raised a hand and smiled, practiced and polite, “and I appreciate the flowers. Thank you. It’s a beautiful arrangement—you have a way with bringing out their natural beauty.”

He probably laid it on too thick. It was a habit at this point: butter up people to ease them, to let their guard down. Jamil merely planned to meet this florist to satisfy his curiosity. He never considered the option of befriending this person, much less engaging in a long conversation with you.

Your face lit up, as if something dawned on you in that moment. Chuckling, you stretched out the hand without the glove and gave him your name. It was followed with a cheerful, “It’s nice to meet you! I hope we can get along, um…”

“Jamil,” he shook your hand with that same, practiced smile, “Jamil Viper. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He noticed your eyes dart towards his hand and arm, inked with the traditional motifs and patterns of his homeland. Under the sunlight that streamed through the glass, your eyes seemed to sparkle. Your mouth parted in a silent, “Oh.”

“That’s so pretty,” you blurted out and continued to stare at the henna tattoos. Jamil simply watched you with wide eyes, but the surprise disappeared in that same instant. Your voice, loud and happy, filled the silence of the room.

“The amount of detail here is amazing, and—Oh, there’s even more tiny patterns inside another pattern. That’s so cool!”

Even though this much praise usually annoyed Jamil (it reminded him too much of Kalim), he found himself flustered. A faint warmth spread across his cheeks as he watched you marvel at the tattoos. You raised a hand, probably to trace the design with a finger, when you paused.

Your smile was frozen on your face, as if you caught yourself doing something embarrassing. Your own cheeks flushed in shame, before you pulled away with a nervous giggle. Jamil almost laughed at how ridiculous you looked at the moment.

He ignored the small voice in the back of his mind that called you cute.

It was supposed to be a one-time encounter. Jamil only visited your flower shop to see the person who opened a new business next to his tattoo parlor. He wanted to see whether this new neighbor of his was going to be tolerable or otherwise. One meeting was enough to deem you tolerable; someone that Jamil could politely wave to if you two happened to pass by each other.

So, why was he looking at a bouquet of irises and white jasmines right now? Why was he standing in your store on a Sunday morning?

“You’ve been coming a lot here lately.” Your voice rang from the back, much like how Jamil first met you. He looked over his shoulder to see you admiring the other flowers with a small smile.

“I don’t mind, really, and it’s nice to have you here. I just didn’t expect you to come here almost every day,” you clarified with a chuckle as you approached him. The telltale flush of your cheeks already told Jamil about how embarrassed you were to confess that. He watched you caress one of the petals of a hydrangea with a gentle look.

For a weekend, it was surprisingly quiet here. People flocked to your store during its first week, and Jamil observed all this in the comfort of his parlor. The window provided a clear view of what was going on, so he didn’t need to go outside. You became frazzled in a matter of moments—running around and arranging the flowers yourself—and that amused Jamil. Just a bit.

Still, you smiled throughout that hectic week.

Me neither, Jamil wanted to say. Instead, he answered, “It’s another slow day in my shop, so I decided to visit. I suppose it’s become a habit whenever I have nothing else to do.”

You chuckled, and Jamil pretended his heart didn’t skip a beat. He ignored the twitch of his lips, curling into a small smile. Oblivious to the look the tattoo artist gave you, you continued to admire the flowers.

“That’s fine with me. Besides, I like your company.”

Your shameless honesty was going to be the death of Jamil. The tips of his ears grew warm, and he tugged his hood over them. He already concluded that you were a thoughtful and considerate person after spending some time with you. You prepared tea and cookies, ones you yourself baked, every time he visited. Careful hands arranged the flowers by meaning and color, which already said enough about you. Being a florist sounded just right for someone like you.

Jamil briefly wondered what flowers you’d give him if you wanted to give him a bouquet.

He cleared his throat, mimicking a cough, before he shifted his attention to the irises and jasmines again. Ever since he searched the meanings of the flowers in that basket, he couldn’t help but be curious.

“Can you tell me what these mean in flower language?” He asked, glancing at you from behind his hood. Whether you found this action odd or not, you didn’t comment on it.

With a curious hum, you leaned over to look at what Jamil referred to and smiled wider. You replied, “Ah, irises can mean wisdom, faith, trust, valor, and hope. As for white jasmines…”

You raised an eyebrow at Jamil with a mischievous grin. He didn’t dare entertain the thought that you were being adorable from the action alone. He didn’t dare hope that the gesture actually meant something.

“They can mean sweet love, and the person who receives them is seen as friendly and pleasant.” You paused, before you suddenly left Jamil’s side and reached for the adjacent wall of flowers. Before Jamil could say anything, you already extended a white bloom under his nose.

Wide-eyed and bewildered, he stared at the flower in your hand. It somewhat resembled a rose in full bloom, but the petals were shaped differently. Another amused laugh echoed in the room. You took his hand, inked with intricate patterns that crawled his skin like vines, and placed the flower in it.

Jamil realized that it was a gardenia. This species of flora grew in some part of the botanical garden of his high school. He was only familiar with it because he used to pass by the area to relax, preferably alone.

“I think this suits you, though.” You hummed and returned to the counter with a spin of your heel. Jamil watched you wordlessly as you disappeared into the greenhouse. From where he stood, the tattoo artist saw pink and white camellias peeking through one of the shelves. He nearly jumped when your head popped out of the door frame.

“Oh, and can you help me carry some of these pots around? They’re pretty heavy, thanks!”

It was only until Jamil got home that he searched for the meaning of the gardenia. The bright laptop screen glared at him as he entered the keywords in the search bar. He clicked on the first result and—

Jamil stared at the words with darkening cheeks. His mouth became dry, and his tongue was tied into knots. His hand slammed the monitor shut, before he abruptly stood up and left for the kitchen. He needed some water. He needed to not think too much into things. You were going to be the death of him, Jamil swore to that.

Still, the words were already seared into his memory: you’re lovely.

Jamil found himself visiting you whenever he could. You always asked for his help whenever heavy labor was involved. If it was anyone else, he would’ve felt annoyed. With you, it was just an excuse for Jamil to stay longer.

Fleeting touches, subtle glances, and shy smiles—it was like your own language. Not a single word was exchanged, yet it felt like you said more than Jamil could comprehend. He didn’t miss the moments when your hands lingered too long over his. He would be a fool not to notice that a cookie jar and a box of teabags sat on the counter each time he visited.

For the past year, you’d give him a single flower every day without fail. One time, after the usual tea, it was a morning glory. Another time, when you were particularly homesick and Jamil stayed to chat, you gave him a hydrangea. When he visited your house and took care of you when you became sick, you gave him a yellow lily the next day. He always brought them home, but it came to the point that a mishmash of flowers in a vase brought color and life to his workspace. It sat under the window, where it bathed under a patch of sunlight. He even considered buying another vase due to the sheer amount.

You gave him all kinds of flowers, but he’d never forget the first gardenia he received from you.

“That looks out of place,” one customer pointed out while Jamil prepared the needle. He already knew what he was talking about, but the tattoo artist still followed his line of sight. A soft smile stretched from one ear to the other, and he didn’t bother hiding it.

Without looking away from the flowers, he answered, “They’re gifts from a friend. It’s the only place I can think of where they can be cared for.”

He ignored the sly, knowing grin on the customer’s face. Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, Jamil gestured towards the chair and continued to prepare everything he needed for this job.

One sunny day, your storefront was crowded more than usual. Jamil paid no mind to the crowd as he pulled his hood over his head. Inked hands grabbed a bundle of flowers, tied with twine, from the table. They were placed far from the vases that decorated the parlor; just to avoid confusion. His eyes fell on the gardenia he drew on the back of his hand. Jamil added that some time ago, maybe around the past month. Still, it made him smile.

Jamil locked the door, then he instinctively looked at the flower shop. His heart stuttered at the sight of the flowers amongst the crowd. The vibrant and lively blossoms were like a splash of color against the dull tones of the city. What used to be gray pavement and monochrome buildings seemed to come to life with just a few flowers.

He blinked his surprise away, before he gripped the bouquet in his hands. The thrum of his heart and the sweat on his palms weren’t something foreign to Jamil. He always felt like this at the thought of you, even Kalim noticed the change in his friend when he visited once. Your smile flashed in his mind, and his own lips curled into a small one. His feet led him to where he knew you were.

Past the flower shop; past the crowd that lingered at the storefront; past the fresh flowers that gathered against the glass walls. Jamil’s feet grew heavier with each step, as if lead hit the concrete and left faint cracks behind. He stepped through the iron-wrought gates with a soft exhale. His grip on the flowers tightened. He considered going back to the tattoo parlor.

In the end, he thought he’d regret it if he backed out now. Blades of grass grazed his sneakers as he walked through rows of stones. Names were etched into each one, a reminder of who they were to the loved ones left behind. Charcoal gray eyes looked straight ahead. He didn’t bother looking at any of them.

It had been a year since that day, but he still remembered where you were.

Grass crunched under his feet as he stopped in front of an unassuming headstone. Engraved in the stone was your name—funny how he never knew your surname until the funeral. You never told him when you introduced yourself, and he didn’t pry. He even imagined you with his surname at some point, but…

Jamil swallowed the lump in his throat. He crouched on one knee and laid the bundle of flowers on your grave. The tattoo artist made the effort of arranging the colorful blooms in a way that you would. At least, how he remembered that you would.

He stood with his hands in his pockets, and he stared at your gravestone with that same lump in his throat. A sigh rang in the empty cemetery. A cool breeze carried the hustle and bustle of the city. The laugh that used to plague Jamil’s everyday life here was missing. It was gone for months now, but he could still hear it clearly in his head.

“Hey,” Jamil mumbled, clenching his hands into fists, “it’s been a while. I’m sorry I only visited today. It… took me some time to come to terms with what happened. Regardless, you deserved an earlier visit.”

No answer, Of course, there was no answer. You’ve been dead for quite some time now. That was an understatement, considering that a year has already passed.

Jamil’s stomach churned, and an insufferable heat filled his chest. His eyes stung. His nails pierced into the skin of his palms. The lump in his throat seemed to grow bigger, and he found it hard to breathe. Memories of your smile, your laugh, and the time he spent with you and your flowers overlapped in his mind.

He dug his heels into the dirt as he gritted his teeth. The sting behind his eyes grew worse. It was hard to breathe, and he found it harder to speak. He somehow forced the words out with a broken heart, pieces scattered along the ashes of what was left of you.

“You idiot,” Jamil choked out as his vision blurred with tears, “you could’ve called me to help you. How was I supposed to know you were still sick? How was I supposed to know you needed to carry that ridiculously huge flower display across the street? How was I supposed to know that car would lose control and—”

Jamil looked up to the sky with a clenched jaw, teeth clacking and shaking his skull from the force. He wanted to scream. He wanted to curse whatever deity existed in this world. He wanted to forget how you looked, pale and bleeding on the street, that day. He wanted to erase that memory of you until his heart bled out and his voice croaked its last scream.

“—they haven’t found the driver. Everyone who knew you petitioned to keep the shop in your memory. Someone else took over, too. You don’t have to worry about your flowers anymore.”

Since that day, whenever Jamil looked at the ink that adorned his hands and arms, all he remembered was your loud voice and bright smile. Your praise and astonishment echoed in his head like a broken record player. He couldn’t count the amount of times he tried to scrub them clean from his skin. If that didn’t work, he scratched at them until he bled and the patterns were hidden under that shade of red.

In hindsight, Jamil thought that was idiotic of him. Love turned anyone into idiots, anyway.

Sighing, Jamil forced the tears back and looked down at your gravestone. If he tried hard enough, he could imagine you smiling and laughing again. The image of you, lifeless and still on the road, would become a scar that faded with time. He hoped it would be.

“I thought of giving you baby’s breath,” Jamil began as the lump in his throat returned, “along with forget-me-nots, and blue salvia. It would be a horrible contrast, but I also thought of adding pink carnations.”

He paused, before bitterly chuckling to himself. “I don’t have your skills, though. You were always amazing with flower arrangements. I couldn’t hold a candle to you, and I rarely tell anyone that. I didn’t want to give you something that was less than perfect—you deserve more than that, so I settled with sweet peas.”

Jamil knew he was talking to himself. He always found it ridiculous how anyone talked to the dead, even if he understood the necessity to respect the ones who passed. This one time, he understood why people did this. Jamil just couldn’t bring himself to accept the circumstances that led to that revelation.

“They mean goodbye in flower language, but I prefer the other meaning. Maybe, in another life, I would’ve bought you flowers for a date. I was thinking of asking you on a date before. Did you know that?”

Another bitter chuckle. Another shaky breath.

“I was supposed to ask you that day. I finally found the courage to try, and what did I see? You…” The words were stuck in Jamil’s throat. He couldn’t force the words out this time. The clamor outside and the harsh slam of his parlor door echoed in his memories. He didn’t want his last memory of you to be your dying breath. He’d rather not remember that at all.

Jamil shook his head and continued, “I apologize for that. What you need to know is that I like you. I may even go so far as to say I love you, and I’m sorry I never told you earlier. I hope you can forgive me for that.”

The tattoo artist sat down in front of your headstone. He didn’t care if dirt and grass stained his jeans this time. He reached out to trace the name etched into the stone, with the same hand where the inked gardenia peeked out of his sleeve.

“I like your flowers. I like all of them. I still keep them with me. I wish I told you that sooner,” Jamil mumbled, voice cracking at the end. A tear rolled down his left cheek and dripped into the soil. His shoulders shook in a silent sob as he breathed his last words to you.

“Thank you for a lovely time. I’ll never forget you.”

[reignessance]

stray kids & enhypen fic recs! will update regularly :)

fluff = (f), angst = (a), suggestive = (sg), mature = (m)

enha:

heeseung:

heeseung as your boyfriend - by: @/malarign (f)

stay a little longer - by: @/enaus (f)

win one win me - by: @/jaylver (f) (sg)

month of may - by: @/soobnny (f) (a)

june blossoms (part 2 of month of may) - by: @/soobnny (f)

snowball fight - by: @/soobnny (f)

written in the stars - by: @/en-ternity (f)

always - by: @/chiyuv (f)

tingly feeling - by: @/sseastar (f)

flatline - by: @/en-ternity (f) (a) (m)

fair and square - by: @/chiyuv (f)

love and war - by: @/dazed-hee (f) (sg) (a)

marry me - by: @/ikeuverse (f)

save me - by: @/enmayz (f) (a) (m)

jay:

jay as your boyfriend - by: @/malarign (f)

afterglow - by: @/forjongseong (a) (m) (f)

stupefy - by: @/delcakoo (f) (sg)

when you're home - by: @/soobnny (f)

how you get the girl - by: @/jaylver (f) (a)

4 times jay almost proposed + 1 time he actually did - by: @/jaylver (f)

bejeweled - by: @/seattlesolace (f)

to protect - by: @/goldenhypen (a) (f)

turn two years into forever - by: @/gureumz (a) (f) (m)

novocaine - by: @/dazed-hee (a) (sg) (f)

with love, jay - by: @/dazed-hee (a) (f)

drabble - by: @/kimsohn (f)

cloudy skies, sparkling water - by: @/malarign (f)

bad boy - by: @/hee-poster (f)

all of the girls you loved before - by: @/jaylver (a) (f)

attention please - by: @/j4ystar (f)

opposites attract - by: @/dazed-hee (f)

marriage ring - by: @/ikeuverse (f) (a) (sg)

midnight confessions- by: @/lheebra (f)

jake:

jake as your boyfriend - by: @/malarign (f)

your name - by: @/soobnny (f)

stuck on your web - by: @/nomniki (f)

brighter days inc. - by: @/karinasbaby (a)

sunghoon:

sunghoon as your boyfriend - by: @/malarign (f)

library hymns - by: @/soobnny (f)

but i still love you - by: @/goldenhypen (a) (f)

sunoo:

sunoo as your boyfriend - by: @/malarign (f)

super shy - by: @/haevqi (f)

whatever it takes - by: @/goldenhypen (f)

jungwon:

jungwon as your boyfriend - by: @/malarign (f)

love grows where jungwon goes - by: @/soobnny (f)

wishlist - by: @/soobnny (f)

riki:

riki as your boyfriend - by: @/malarign (f)

after hours - by: @/soobnny (f)

jealousy jealousy - by: @/soobnny (f)

always japan - by: @/soobnny (f)

because, its funny - by: @/wonbokkies (f)

pretty boy - by: @/str0l0gy (f)

duolingo date - by: @/chaewandz (f)

ot7:

enhypen when you’re jealous because of their bite me performance - by: @/seongclb (f)

you being a special mc for music bank - by: @/byhees (f)

enhypen when they marry a fan on live to make their s/o jealous - by: @/seongclb (f)

enha and their partner privileges - by: @/hoonvrs (f)

[simpingland]

The Guide and the Companion.// Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!oc Part 2

Part 1.

Summary: Gaella runs from the greens, hoping to be welcomed by the Blacks and more specifically the Prince Jacaerys. The feelings are strong but even in the same side, both of them find themselves way to separated by the past.

A/N: very angst. Hope you like it, the struggle is real.

A pyre could be seen burning in the distance, and the nervousness in Gaella grew even more. Someone was being burned and Erryk changed his path to where the people were gathering. The greyish cloak that covered Gaella momentarily maintained her identity, but swords were raised before the newcomers. And as the knight knelt, relinquishing the crown to Daemon and uttering an oath to Rhaenyra, Gaella's knees took a while to settle to the ground. As she let her white hair fly, her green skirt became stained with dirt and she ducked her head. She dared not turn around, but she would have seen all those people landing on their knees, and Jace looking up to watch the Princess, who looked as repentant as Jace had imagined, though it pained him to see her in that humiliating position.

"Gaella," Rhaenyra called as she approached the girl. "Have you come to swear fealty to me? Or to betray me?"

"No, your Majesty..." her voice trembled, and fear showed even in her eyes. "I fled before I even saw Aegon crowned. I kneel before you alone."

"You understand that you cannot be trusted..." Daemon spoke dryly, his hands resting on his sword.

"Please, I come empty-handed, weary and eager to serve Rhaenyra. No one who knows Aegon can see him as a king." Gaella was quick to justify herself, losing her composure. She was startled when Daemon tugged at her cloak, revealing that bejewelled green gown.

"You have always been more than willing to support him, Princess. You are like your brothers, a product of your grandfather." Though Daemon spoke, Rhaenyra seemed to be watching and thinking something apart. As Gaella's tears welled up, Jace hurried to the spot.

"She hasn't always been willing!" Jace corrected him. "In fact, I doubt if she ever was."

His voice was serious and powerful, but Gaella felt it as if it were the most beautiful voice in the world, that of an angel to her rescue.

"You'll have a room, food and water. But we will not let you roam the castle at will. This is a war for everyone," Rhaenyra said. She walked off, leaving everyone walking behind her. Only Gaella remained on the ground, and Jace at her side. In the eerie silence, the Princess would not raise her head, nor would she say a word. But she did let Jace put the cloak back on her shoulders. She rose on her own and followed some distance behind the Prince.

"Watch out for the stones," the boy said to her.

"Jacaerys..." Gaella stopped, so did Jace. "Whose pyre was it?"

"My little sister's, Visenya."

His eyes avoided Gaella's, looking out at the sea and the mountains. In front of her was her once friend, heartbroken for her sister.

"Oh...I am heartily sorry, my Prince."

Then she touched his arm, stroking his sleeve and searching his eyes.

"I know, Gaella. I'm sorry about you, too."

"Me?"

"I suppose you feel frightened. But you've done well."

"And how do you know that?"

"It's a gut feeling."

Gaella wanted to roll her eyes at that, Jace always so whimsical. And Jace could read her thinking because he smiled a little as he watched her endure a sarcastic comment, Gaella always so logical. He wiped away her tears without thinking it too much and walked back towards the castle. But he kept that skin on his memory for way too long, and Gaella did as well kept repeating that touch, so simple and intimate.

"Come on, I'll sattle you a good chamber," Jace told her with a little more cheerfulness. "The new Prince of Dragonstone welcomes you, Princess Gaella."

And behind him, with calm sorrow and diffused fear, Gaella smiled after a long time.

She may not have been locked in the cell, but no one encouraged her to leave her chambers, and the three guards behind her door signalled that they would know when Gaella could come out. Such passive aggressiveness was something Jace was ashamed of. The Princess had been brought to her knees, having travelled in a tiny boat for a whole day and night, leaving behind a lifetime, and all of a sudden. And during the queen's first meeting, he couldn't concentrate. He could imagine Gaella pacing her room, breathing nervously and fearing for everything. And by the time they could finally spare him, night had fallen.

"Mother, will Gaella come down to dinner?" asked Luke, who had seen his older brother's lack of concentration.

"If she wishes, yes."

"I will escort her to the dinning room, my Queen." Jace left before he even had his mother's approval. All those who had known Jace or Gaella since childhood exchanged glances, knowing the fixation they felt for each other.

Gaella was startled by the pounding on her door, and hesitated, unwilling to open the door to just anyone.

"Who is it?" she asked, glued to the door.

"It's me, Princess Gaella... Jacaerys." His voice sounded courteous, perhaps too much so. "You are invited to dine with us."

Then Gaella opened, not quite, just enough to see his face.

"Rhaenyra..."

"Your Majesty, The Queen," the boy corrected her.

"The Queen...wants me to dine with you?"

"She insist." He stood removed, his posture straight and rigid, but his eyes held a soft gaze.

"Be honest. Are you going to kill me?" Gaella let herself lean against the edge of the door, wanting to rest her hands on Jace, but settling for the wood.

"The meat here isn't very good...but you couldn't say it is capable of killing."

Then he smiled tenderly and Gaella wanted to hug him. Instead she pushed him away holding back a laugh. She managed to take a step out of her room and Jace pointed the way they should go. Again he was her guide, only this time he offered her an arm.

"Wow...I didn't remember you being such a gentleman."

"I wasn't. I have learned." And despite his offer, Gaella restrained herself from accepting it, tangling her hands in the belt of her own dress.

"Of course, a highborn wife deserves nothing less than a gentleman." She remembered that dinner, with those complicit smiles and flirting. And Jace's smile disappeared.

"And even knights can be disappointing."

"And kings too..." Gaella joked back. "Men in general are a headache."

"Some women claim that men have no heads."

"And that's true. And that's why women have to think for them, and it's too much work, Jace."

The prince stopped in his tracks, halting the ride. The Princess knew at once why, but she wanted to pretend she didn't understand, while Jace smirked.

"Jace? Did my ears hear right?"

Gaella rolled her eyes.

"If it bothers you I'll go back to calling you Jacaerys."

"And what about 'my prince'?" Jace continued on his way, trying to catch Gaella's gaze as she ignored him again.

"Now I don't want to call you that. You make it sound weird."

"I'll call you by whatever name you want as long as you call me by whatever name I want. That's a good deal, isn't it?"

"I guess...I'd like to be called 'great princess Gaella the wise and beautiful', if it's not too much trouble."

"Alright..." she could smell the food, the road was going to end. "I will think of my name during dinner, Princess Gaella the wise and beautiful."

" 'Great' Princess Gaella, the wise and beautiful."

"I'm sorry, Great Princess Gaella, the wise and beautiful. Though it is costing me too much, could you choose another name?"

"I will decide over dinner."

The dinner in question was rather tense. With Daemon and Rhaenyra constantly looking at you. No one spoke of wars or alliances and the silence was so sepulchral that not even Gaella dared to eat to keep the noise down. She could also see Baela and Jace out of the corner of her eye, sitting together again, though this time not even they spoke.

"Why have you changed your mind, Gaella?" the Queen asked at last.

The girl's gaze rested on Jace for a moment, he was looking at her as well. Then she focused on Rhaenyra, trying to prove she wasn't lying.

"I've never had things so clear before. It was a sleepless night before the coronation. And I felt I was making a mistake by bowing to Aegon. Also...someone close to you made me see things a bit differently. Made me feel seen. Ser Erryk was more than willing to help me, he never agreed with Aegon's behaviour, unlike his brother."

That someone who made her see things differently would remain locked in her heart, and Jace would only suspect that he was the great reason in question.

"The knight has admitted to me that he trusts you. And I trust him. I would like you to come to the meeting tomorrow." Rhaenyra then focused on eating, though she was the only one. The others were left watching the Queen or the Princess.

The girl's smile sent an irritating glee through Jace's chest, and he had to restrain himself from smiling too. He was glad to have her around again. When dinner was over, everyone retired to their rooms, and Jace paused to say goodbye to his fiancée with an overly polite kiss on the hand, even Baela blushed. And Gaella watched, wanting to smack herself for having been such a fool.

On her way to her room, she didn't turn around when she heard Jace behind her.

"I've decided that I like 'Jace' better than 'Jacaerys', it brings back good memories." He watched as Gaella kept walking, and soon caught up with her. "But I'm starting to get the hang of that intonation you use when you call me 'my prince'...your voice is too pretty when you utter it, and knowing you mean me is even better."

It was now Gaella who stopped in mid-stride. Her eyes seemed darker than ever. And Jace understood nothing, really nothing.

"What are you playing at?"

"I beg your pardon?" Jace looked at her as if he could understand her better by doing it.

"I said I don't understand what you're playing at. You full my head with pretty words and make me forget that you have a wife-to-be who adores you. So much so that you make me abandon my family to feel that I'm wanted here."

"I really don't understand you, Gaella, you've abandoned your family all by yourself, that's what the dinner was about, isn't it?" Jace was going from confused to angry as he noticed the responsibility they were starting to put on his shoulders.

"I have been judged and locked up. And you come back with your words and gestures that make me believe that you really want me. You make me forget about Baela and how much you love her. And then I see that I'm just an excuse to boost your ego."

"Don't be unfair. Did you really expect me to ignore Baela...for you?" Those words came out in a way Jace didn't mean, and they struck Gaella like an arrow to the heart. "I can understand that you were made to choose sides, but you chose to ignore me completely for years."

"Poor thing, who didn't get his letters from me praising the nonsense you did every day, or how well you learn your lessons or how chivalrous you are...how can I ever repay you?" Gaella's sarcasm made Jace feel stupid and angry by the minute.

"If I had been fair I would have decided not to speak to you for another six years. But I've been good and understanding. Because I thought you were my friend. I didn't want your praise, just for you to be safe...happy." his voice was beginning to fail him and he could see Gaella's chin quiver.

"I had people I loved at King's Landing. Helaena, my nephews, my mother, I had a whole life. And you can't belittle it when you seek my praise because Baela's isn't enough. You make fun of me, but you'll always be a child."

"I'm sorry I got your hopes up. But I did not put you in a boat, nor did I make you kneel before the Queen. Don't throw it in my face that you regret what you've done. And mind you, if I was anyone else I would run and tell her Majesty that your loyalty to her is that weak."

The distance seemed to grow between you in the middle of the corridor. Just hours ago you had walked it with joy, but now it felt cold and echoing.

"I think you should be fair, Jacaerys," Gaella swallowed, holding back tears right there. "I don't want you to speak to me for another six years."

As Gaella slipped into her room, Jace walked slowly past her door, and he felt a sting on his chest to hear her cry on the other side.

The next morning, Gaella wandered the halls trying to find the room with the painted table, where the first meeting would take place. Jace saw her on his way, and without saying a word to her, made a noise that would attract her attention and pretended not to see her. Then he resumed his way without haste, knowing that the girl was following him at a distance, and in that way he managed to guide her without crossing words.

Glances were inevitable. Already dressed in red, Gaella had a simple appearance, the form that most fascinated Jace, and she smiled at Rhaenyra as she drew her close to the table. And when she connected her eyes to Jace's, he could see the redness of tears, and only wished she could have rested after all those stressful nights before.

When his mother gave them the task of travelling as messengers, Jace accepted his destination to the north. The desire to see Winterfell overcame the nervousness of doing a task in the midst of war and alone.

"Though I think, Jace," his mother continued, "your task is too difficult for your age. You should have company. "

"But Luke is going to Stormlands, the objective is to go fast and we must split up..."

"Take someone else with you. One willing to fly," interrupted the Queen. Jace looked at Baela, seeking a smile of approval, but the girl looked down at the ground. "The twins have other duties here, they can't accompany you."

He turned to his mother in confusion. The last thing Jace wanted was to be alone with Daemon, he would hinder his mission. But when Rhaenyra looked to the right of the table, when Jace realized who his mother's choice was, he changed his mind. Daemon would be the second to last person she wanted.

"Princess Gaella will be a good help. I'm more than sure."

----------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

[thestobingirlie]

interesting thoughts about steve re: the triangle and being the boy that helps nancy relax. i agree completely.

for me, as someone who was very much into stoncy and now leans more stancy (they are so cute holy shit), i have always been fascinated with the similarities and differences between steve and jonathan.

it is so clear to me, that jonathan could never truly take care of her in the way she needs, not on his own. not as a husband (in the future). nancy is very much the caretaker in that relationship, and natalia said so herself. i do love jonathan, and he is a strong caretaker for will and joyce obviously, but when it comes to nancy—he is unfortunately a burden to her in a way that steve will never ever be *or* even let himself be. jonathan has so much emotional baggage. its heartbreaking of course but its baggage that he makes no effort to tame or heal (besides smoking i guess), and i would argue he is absolutely selfish for fostering a committed relationship with nancy and expecting her to deal with that on top of her own issues. (i do get though that teenagers are selfish naturally.) but he knows he isn’t ready to support a girlfriend, he knows that. he also has to know how much heartbreak the inevitable end of his relationship will cost her, especially since she began her relationship with him in what was arguably the most depressed point in her life in the second season. jonathan, god bless him, is self-pitying but not proactive (see: following around your girlfriend with your tail between your legs like a wet sad dog wordlessly begging its owner for food) (but hes my wet sad dog). he is her perpetually passive accomplice and while that may be appealing to nancy when she’s in tunnel vision mode, even she is shown to be resentful of his inability to step up for her. he is malewife in the absolute worse way (i promise i love you jonathan).

then let’s think about nancy’s other dumbass malewife. steve is absolutely her caretaker, and let’s be real that is what she needs, whether or not she knows it (she does deep down). i dont mean that in a “nancy can’t take care of herself” way but in a “he wants her to have fun” way! he’s got to have a ton of shit haunting his dreams at night but like ken in barbie (lmao), does not let her see his pain. he is so selfless, always making sure he can be a light presence for her, a calm easy presence. jonathan doesn’t do that. jonathan doesn’t know how to take control of a “nancy wheeler is so deep into this truth journey she might get herself killed” situation—i see the (bad) “feminist” take often that steve holds her back and jonathan supports her but that is such watered down feminism. nancy is a badass but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t put herself into danger (she does.) and jonathan isn’t a feminist hero for supporting her dangerous endeavors (though ofc most of her endeavors save everyone’s ass).

any way: essay complete. i just really am falling deeper and deeper in love with stancy because i realize that nancy, as my favorite character, needs taking care of! like noooo one takes good care of her! let her bejeweled (taylor swift ref lmfao)!

i think what it comes down to for me, is that jonathan’s priority will always be will, and nancy deserves someone who will prioritise her.

jonathan’s gone through a lot of abuse, he’s been majorly parentified. he doesn’t put his own happiness first, and i think as a result, he doesn’t put nancy’s first. he thinks they’ll both be miserable and hate each other and their kids in the future, but he’s still with her. because that’s what you’re “supposed to do”. and i really, really don’t see him working through that anytime soon. especially not if he’s still in a relationship with nancy.

but steve. he makes her laugh! even in terrible times. we see this calming and happy effect that he has on her in s4. he tries. even if it wasn’t enough when nancy was deep in her grief. he was trying.

like you said, nancy deserves to be swept off her feet and romanced. for someone to want to take care of her. for someone to want a future together, instead of resent one.

i think it’s insane to say it’s anti-feminist to ever question a woman lmao. steve wants nancy to be safe, that means he doesn’t always like her plans. her plans often put herself and others in danger because she gets all in her head. i think she needs someone to stand up, and lay out what might be wrong with the plan. to go toe to toe with her.

(and the irony of people criticising steve for not immediately liking nancy’s plan in s4 when that plan did not work lmao. two people died. and neither of them was vecna.)

obviously all three of them are imperfect. they’re teenagers! they’ll fuck up and do harsh things. but what matters is that they care about each other. steve cares about nancy, so he laid out his feelings, and stepped back. jonathan cares about nancy, and he kept secrets, didn’t explain to her what he was feeling, and allowed this… resentment almost, to fester. he’s an avoider! it doesn’t mean he’s a terrible person, but it does mean he shouldn’t be in a relationship.

[arse-crack-thistle]

rwrb characters and their eras tour outfits

so i saw this tiktok asking what we think alex and henry are wearing to the eras tour, so here’s what i think the super six would do if they were all going together (in new york, i assume)…

(in my head they all choose an era and base an outfit on that…probably nora and pez’s idea)

alex - he fights for reputation and wins. i’m thinking black, sparkle, and chains. leather jacket with a black rhinestone snake on the back and a black mesh crop top underneath. black distressed jeans cuffed over combat boots. chains around his neck and hanging from his jacket and pants. thin black sunglasses that he later uses to hold back his curls when the house lights go down. oh and he definitely has the sharpest black eyeliner on his lids.

henry - he has a choice: either live in his reputation era with alex or be his complementary opposite. so he chooses lover. i’m thinking ‘80s high school student with lover energy. light-washed jeans with white chuck taylors. tucked in, a loose-fitted pastel button-up with cuffed sleeves. maybe it has splotches of color or faded butterflies on it…idk some kind of print. on top, a hand painted jean jacket with “london boy” in loopy pink typography on the back. a glitter lover heart around his eye (bc nora insists).

nora - speaking of, i’ll keep this simple for her. a fully identical ring leader costume to what taylor had on the red tour. she may be an irl chaos demon but i think she’s anointed herself the unofficial leader of “super six does eras tour 2k23” so this fit is appropriate for her. i mean she almost made them all wear matching t-shirts like they’re a depressed cishet family at disney world but june talked her down.

june - the queen of fashion herself. this is the trickiest for me bc june wants to do folklore and just wear shortalls and the silver star cardigan to be comfy, but she’ll be damned before she doesn’t match the energy of the others. june goes with evermore and all in on “cowboy like me” to piss alex off since he almost went with rodeo wear. cropped cream fringe jacket with an elegant ivy embroidery on the back and trim. underneath, a bustier and shorts of the same fabric with the same embroidery. of course she’s wearing a cowboy hat, cream with the ivy details. and caramel cowboy boots (rounded toe bc she’s a utility girl). everything but the boots are custom made in austin.

pez - “this night is sparkling! don’t you let it go!” yeah so as soon as he saw taylor in all of her enchanted ballgowns, he knew he had to be her nigerian billionaire glitter prince. and that’s exactly what he does. he commissions a nigerian designer to make a suit and headpiece using akwete fabric in the colors of the speak now era’s visuals. all accented in rhinestones of course. he’s also all about the accessories with a watch, bracelets, necklaces, shoes, and glasses from various luxury brands. he does the absolute most, and everyone loves him for it.

bea - angel is in her midnights era, and i am here for it! bc of bullshit princess rules she couldn’t wear a bodysuit like she wanted. but no matter, she’s still going to shimmer. having not seen anyone do it yet, she literally learns to sew and diy’s a mini dress version of taylor’s yellow dress at the end of the bejeweled music video. it was totally, incredibly frustrating but she nails it! complete with lace, bows, and a little more sparkle, the dress hits so hard. she pairs it with sparkly louboutin boots and replicas of the hair clips and choker she bought off etsy. june helps her do taylor’s hairstyle from the video, while she does the makeup, beauty mark included.

so yeah that’s what i got. what do you think?? bc this is such a fun prompt and i could see each character doing like fifty different things lol <3

[abysswalkersknight]

A little brainrot thing I wrote just before going to bed. I don't intend on editing this so there may be a lot of mistakes but whatever.

Purely written because I saw pictures that made words spew into my head.

....................

Was he in heaven?

Lilia’s heart soared to the skies as he squeezed his boy tight with all the greatest love and affection he could muster, so much so the boy giggles that it’s too tight and he can’t breath, oh his beautiful darling boy. Lilia could never physically convey how much he adores this human, creating a lovely acorn bracelet with his own young, delicate hands with the intent of wishing him a long, healthy life despite his being a long lived fae. What a wondrous gift the gods have bestowed him, one he would never deserve but wholeheartedly cherishes as he slowly releases his son to press a loving kiss upon his soft cheek. 

Ah how he wished to live in this moment forever…

Get lost.

A faint rustle in the forest around them harshly rips him from such fantasies. His blissful smile slowly fell into the hardened frown of the general, something was hiding among the shadows of the wood, something watching them ‘Papa?’ peeped Silver, one hand clutching the bracelet and the other clasped onto Lilia’s shirt. His smile returns as his attention diverted back to the boy ‘oh my, your gift was so wonderful I seem to have drifted off’ he coos, sweeping his boy dramatically off his feet. Silver squeals in delight, wrapping his arms and legs around Lilia like a koala, burying his face in his shoulder.

Lilia laughs, petting Silver’s back as he prepares to walk them back home-

Die, monster!

He yells as a flash of steel slashes at them, leaping away clutching his boy Lilia whirls around, blinding fury evident in his eyes only to be met with empty space, no enemy in sight.

But that cannot be true. He swore he saw them, saw him swing that sword of light, a familiar bejewelled gaze filled with suffering. But he wore an outfit of black and green, the colours of Briar Valley, what did that…

He had no time to dwell on it, startled by the sudden movement Silver clung to him tightly, breathing heavily against Lilia’s neck, before any tears came Lilia was quick to reassure him ‘It’s alright, I’m sorry my love, I thought I saw something and it startled me, it’s alright’ Silver nods, sniffing as he settles down ‘are you alright Papa?’ he murmurs, eyes growing droopy, seven preserve him, this darling boy… ‘yes, I’m perfectly well my dear, how about we go rest a bit and then you can tell me all about how you made this beautiful bracelet’ 

Once they’re settled all curled up on the couch, Lilia ponders while looking out the window into the forest. Something was wrong, he may be old, but he does not hallucinate, something happened out there, he just doesn’t know what but as he thinks back on it one particularly strange question lingers on his mind.

Just who was that sword aiming for?

[comesitintheclover]

This is a love letter to being trans and to other trans people

this is for my t4t first kiss and being seen as a boy by those close to me before I cut my hair and the world started catching up.

this is for the first time a stranger called me a man unprompted being a day I was wearing earrings and bejewelled clips in my hair. For not having to change who I am to be a man.

this is for the trans masc lesbian who taught me how to break in my docs. the gemstones of community collected through time

this is for helping each other bind and songs by indie girl bands about wanting to be a boy, Kate bush singing about not being seen as a boy when she’s riding white horses and I don’t know what she means but I feel it in me and I’m sixteen and binding for the first time and everything feels magical.

this is for my trans brother putting trans stickers in public bathroom stalls and me seeing them at school and feeling less alone.

this is for me falling in love with the ways your voice and your body are changing with every T shot, falling more for you, and falling in love with what I will get to do one day.

this is for the YouTubers who I rewatch, those who show their bodies to the world and face the endless bs to help their trans siblings. The posts and forums that I have screenshotted. For the strangers who helped me find myself and will never know how comforted their words made me.

this is for the flamboyant album by Dorian Electra and splendor dysphoria by Superknova. For the trans musicians and artists and authors who inspire me forever and ever. Who create little infinities of bliss in their 3 minutes of song or few square inches of book pages.

this is for the overlap of identities and the love of body hair and all the butterfly themed stuff I have because they’re a transgender allegory. this is for waking up and touching my chest because it was just a nightmare and the surgery went well and this is my chest now (and it’s like it’s always been)

this is for feeling so proud that I didn’t back down when I could have stomached it because I’m so happy now I didn’t realise how much it hurt before.

this is for finding ourselves while governments uses us as its favourite chewtoy. for reading banned books. For seeing the world change. For the better and worse. For all the highs and lows. this is for you yelling back at that stranger “not a girl!” And me startled and anxious by your side and a bit starstruck. Falling a bit more in love. Writing 500 songs about it, maybe

this is for you telling me it’s okay to just try a new pronoun as we sat on the baseball benches that may. For us with our then-long hair in the sand that summer grinning about being boy-girl-girl-boy-girl-boy-girl-boy-boys. For wearing suits during spirit week. For the sopranos in suit and tie at the choir concert. For the beauty and joy of trans existence.

for the pronoun pins they made at the library. That my brother painted on a bottle cap for me. for getting to give my brother new nicknames from his new name.

this is for the trans people who have given me community and offered me a place to sleep and reignited my faith in humanity

this is for the queer youth group in the new town I lived in this summer. For seeing trans and queer people who were older than me. With white hair. For being cared for, for seeing a future that isn’t lonely. For the road trip we took and doodle the younger kid drew of us all. For spaces that our queer elders have created for us and and we will care for in turn 💗

this is for when you took me to the trans beach day for our third? last? date and I didn’t know what pronouns to put on my my-name-is sticker and I was scared I was an imposter but everyone was so kind and I saw life life life, joy joy joy. More people than the kind that get on a for you page or got cooked up in my feverish brain during lockdown. It was a new welcoming into the world and reality is always so much more beautiful than whatever one dimensional hope I could dream on my own.

this is for the binder I got that summer now neatly folded in the memory box at the top of my wardrobe with old poems and letters and that photo of us at pride when I finally decided I could go too 💗, too high up for me to reach this January with new scars across my chest.

it’s for the way we take care of each other. My friend who made me spaghetti and lent me his mastectomy pillow. For my bff crocheting me trans coloured flowers and a teddy bear. Telling me there’s no such thing as fish or men, helping me through post-surgical depression.

for how we change as time passes. For how we reconnect with new names. For how we may lose each other but still wish each other well with this journey. for poems about god and grapes and wine you collaged onto your bedroom wall. For the genderbendy collages I kept hidden in my closet.

for cutting off my tits to feel comfortable in skirts again. For being understood. For laying on the living room floor years ago telling you I see you as you even if they don’t. And you saying “what do you see though?”. For the hard bits. The times I’ve fucked up. For calling the help line. For your drag king/thing makeup. For the day I learned the word tomboy.

this is for us sitting on the summer sidewalk talking about missing T shots and microdosing and how it’s all gonna be okay.

this is for when you pointed at that statue of apollo and said you wished you looked like that and I bit my tongue because that was your journey to have not mine. This is for being mooned at a queer show. for being offered a cigarette in place of a kiss. for knowing I'll support you no matter what. for joking (kinda) about getting free the nipple tattooed of my post-surgery chest. for being both a woman and a man because I can.

this is for the beauty of the transgender experience, for not understanding gender but feeling it anyways. For becoming because you can, because the world is more open and joyful in a lot of ways now. It’s for coming back to school after quarantine and never being the only kid using multiple pronouns in each class. It’s for hope. It’s for life being more than death. It’s for the beauty of creation and the infinite shapes it takes. It’s for deciding the masculine is not alien. It’s for getting tipsy in the uni lounge and comparing how we think about our genders and feelings so cozy and there being no absolutes. this is for life being confusing but beautiful anyway. For not being able to decide wether to grow my hair back to my waist or to buzz it again. For the joy of waking up with hair short enough to stick up crazily. For you giving me an undercut with stationary scissors when I was 16 there was nothing better to use.

this is for gender being silly fun and profound all at once, all the time.

this is for the day I felt shit going into the woman’s bathroom and I saw this:

this is for @boy-gender happy birthday! Thank you for helping me out with my fears about top surgery and listening to me rant about gender. I hope you have a wonderful day!

[zeldacd]

Notttt what I had planned on drawing for my next Zora May (and technically this wasn't supposed to be a Zora May entry. It was just me drawing another disconnected scene from AU plot cause i guess I'm incapable of actually sitting down and writing a story from start to finish)

(big inhale) BUT I was getting frustrated with the thing I was drawing and started doing something else. (DW I'll go back to it. eventually.)

So here. Zora May (Still not actually even May) prompt is ummm Well I guess this could fall under Bejeweled LOL. Or just AU/OC.

AU plot/context under the cut cause boi I'm gonna start rambling

Okeeeyy so I may have mentioned in previous AU posts ive made that my lake zora have a tendency to be hostile to Hylians and to a lesser extent other humans in my AU due to like. Previous strained relations regarding the Zora queen. But Kaluga himself being a Zora too young to really remember war between them and the Hylians doesn't really harbor specific hatred for humans (typical millennial jk). But he has a naturally antagonistic/narcissistic nature that leads him to be hostile towards them anyway.

SO. Refresher out of the way. In the current events of the story he's kind of getting up to the age to take the throne and even find a queen, but when he encounters the main group he is immediately smitten with Gan. So basically he's like, "Oh okay, this one is mine. I have now decided." and kidnaps him to marry. Think Bowser I suppose (LMFAO). They don't actually end up getting married (sad, I know JK), but the main group just plays along for a while when the wedding is being planned/prepared because this allows them to explore Zora's Domain (mostly) freely. Which they would not have had an opportunity to do otherwise. Due to Zora not being too keen on humans.

I'm not really explaining the events in FULL detail. cause I mean I will (I dunno if I ever will but I do hope to) actually write this AU out in like..... fic form.

I really just need to make a schedule I'm starting to notice I tend to not commit to shit unless I adhere to a strict schedule... lol.

[lavnderwonu]

seventeen as taylor swift songs! ₊˚⊹♡

author’s note!: okay umm so one thing about me is i am a slightly closeted swiftie. LOL. i’ve loved taylor since like ‘06 what can i say?? and so many of our boys are ts coded so i had to <3 i also have something im working on posting soon but I’m sharing this in the meantime since it was fun to make haha so enjoy! 💌 fair warning: some songs may be a bit angsty-ish maybe breakup vibes??? it’s taylor swift c’mon

choi seungcheol ❀

i can see you (taylor’s version)

august

don’t blame me

yoon jeonghan ❀

style (taylor’s version)

teardrops on my guitar

dear john (taylor’s version)

hong joshua ❀

hey stephen (taylor’s version)

enchanted (taylor’s version)

midnight rain

wen junhi ❀

lover

sparks fly (taylor's version)

all too well (taylor's version)

kwon soonyoung ❀

invisible string

how you get the girl (taylor's version)

the very first night (taylor's version)

jeon wonwoo ❀

paper rings

you belong with me (taylor's version)

ivy

lee jihoon ❀

sweet nothing

is it over now? (taylor's version)

maroon

lee seokmin ❀

i don’t wanna live forever (with zayn)

speak now (taylor’s version)

mirrorball

kim mingyu ❀

i'm only me when i'm with you

the way i loved you (taylor’s version)

cardigan

xu minghao ❀

you are in love (taylor's version)

bejeweled

slut! (taylor's version)

boo seungkwan ❀

cruel summer

karma

out of the woods (taylor's version)

chwe hansol ❀

come back…be here (taylor’s version)

daylight

all of the girls you loved before

lee chan ❀

hits different

fearless (taylor’s version)

willow

[clark-reviews]

Album Review: 👍🏼Recommend

Lana Del Rey, Incense, The #1 Male Sex Toy in the World, and the Auto Play feature on YouTube Music?

The secret recipe for turning people into Taylor Swift fans isn't once size fits all, in fact, when it comes to the moment a talented artist grabs your attention for the first time, I think of it more like a meet cute. Cupid doesn't care who you're with either, he's sneaky like that. I had no intention of listening to "Midnights". In fact, Taylor Swift wasn't even on my Pop music radar until she infiltrated my bedroom solo act, with Lana's masterpiece, "Born To Die", as the sonic backdrop I had consented to.

As though Lana had lovingly snuck Taylor into the room and revealed her as a surprise birthday gift, "Snow On The Beach" auto played right after Lana's album ending track, "Lucky Ones". I have to admit, as though I was audibly blindfolded, when Taylor's track started, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I couldn't tell them apart! "Snow On The Beach" has Lana's red lipstick-stained cigarette butts all over it. She seamlessly weaves in and out of Taylor's (surprisingly) sultry vocal delivery, never taking control of the song. But she's there in the room, the whole time, making sure I'm still okay with this cunning sleight of hand.

My second order of business for the night was to check and see if Lana had just silently dropped an album on me without telling me first. One that included this new song. To my surprise, it's on Taylor Swift's new album!? As a man who appreciates a good musical rabbit hole, I delved further and started "Midnights" from the top. Because "What's the big idea?" and whatnot.

To be perfectly honest, I chuckled at the title of the first track "Lavender Haze". My mind immediately connected it to "Purple Rain" and well... It was a cute moment. I've since read that this album contains Easter eggs, albeit, this may not be one of them. I hit play though and I got smacked in the face with the most uncannily Dua Lipa sounding song on the whole album. This is a good thing though, we like Dua Lipa. And it's refreshing to know that Taylor might have taken some influence from her, and chose to give her a lovely nod to begin the album.

"Maroon" is an interesting track as well, because it's always the second track that sets the pace of an album, in my opinion. Just as a single note isn't a melody until there's a second note to compliment it. In music theory this is called an interval. And in this case, the previous track was in B-flat Major, and "Maroon' is in G Major. Not to get too technical, but this interval the first two tracks created is called a "minor 3rd" (m3). For reference, the first two notes of Moonlight Sonata form a minor 3rd. I already know this album is going to be a little bit sad. And boy did it deliver! Because "Anti-Hero" is in E Major, and we now have a descending diminished arpeggio taking us into the third song. Taylor is building suspence with this track order!

In most albums, you'll find that the third track is almost always a single. "Anti-Hero" comes in loud and clear. Taylor's voice is now front and center with that gorgeous verse melody. The starting lyric is "I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser" and her command of that falsetto on the word "thing" sells the lyric to me at full-price every time. What a mature delivery, to attach to such a doubtful line about oneself, but sing it so confidently. There's something special about this song. It's a song about insecurities, and I'm humbled to hear it sung so proudly. Whatever she was going through, seems now resolved. We enjoy those moments, don't we.

After "Snow On The Beach" we have a few more tracks that seem to explore even further -Taylor's latest pop sensibilities, with "Bejeweled" being the bubbliest one of all. For my personal preference, I wasn't too impressed with it. The song seems a bit crowded with too many lyrics and Taylor seems to breathe between words at odd moments. It's probably more suitable for fans of her previous bodies of work. Let's just say that if "Bejeweled" had played after "Lucky Ones", I wouldn't be writing this review, and I would have never heard one of the most hauntingly beautiful pop songs I've ever listened to, and it's been on repeat since 11:47pm last night...

*Song Spotlight*

That song is "Labyrinth", and it has the honor of a spotlight. Let's listen together.

If Labyrinth doesn't successfully heal any emotional wounds of yours, then it'll proceed to inflict one, clean it, dress it, and kiss it for you.

This song took me back to 2012. I'd met a beautiful young lady at an airport terminal in Copenhagen on my way back from visiting my mother in Norway. We had a meet cute that led to us spending the next 32 hours holding hands, loitering the airport, waiting for her to tell me to smile again and again, and wishing to never go home. As I finally boarded the flight that separated us, she kissed me on the lips for the first time since we'd met. It was at that moment that "Labyrinth" should have started playing over the loudspeakers. Because in my mind, when I think of that moment, this song belongs to it. This song gave me closure, and I'm grateful.

To close out the album, we have the cleverly celebratory lyrics of "Karma", the rich and sweet nostalgia-inducing "Sweet Nothings", and "Mastermind" could have very well been the first song on the album, because it perfectly encapsulates the lyrical pretenses of every song on this album. She's acknowledging that she's in control of every rushing memory she penned to the sheet, every winding road she willingly drove while sitting in the driver's seat.

Taylor Swift took me on a ride with this album, and I'm inspired to take her up on her next foray into the throws of adult womanhood. I have trust in her now.

[thefangirlofhp]

5. lost in the city thank you to @nikethestatue for the prompt <3

It’s a musical sound that of water crackling beneath rushing tires, one that also grows steadily distant with every step she takes and every alley she turns down, following the bequeathed directions of the map application in her cold hand. Feyre tosses her scarf over her shoulder, and her platform boots slap against wet concrete and cobblestone. She finds herself walking into a new location to discover of small shops and closed doors and empty benches. She peers up the rocky expanse of the wall next to her, at the grey cloudy sky to meet the faltering drops of rain finding her face through colorful canopies and creaking signs creaking their way.

A black-painted thumb swipes her cracked screen free of water, and rubs it against her jeans at her thighs only for her to stuff it in her jacket when all it does is spread the damp all over. She can’t make sense of Elain’s directions anyway, and the map’s useless for her to read.

While her eldest sister may be the academically brightest of them all, Feyre’s intellect runs into streets like this, finds itself with people and the outdoors. There’s a fluency in her with the unspoken language of the world that The Alchemist had spoken to her own soul about, put her finger right over the spot. So she tugs her jacket close, slides her hands into its pockets and sets out on an adventure.

She discovers two new quaint cafes with reasonable pricings, tries a pumpkin latte that she’s never had before and buys a cinnamon cookie for Rhys from another, wanders into an antique shop and runs her fingers over all sorts of ancient objects and breathes in dust that’s settled for decades. She snaps photos on a vintage camera application she’s bought for a dollar, and notices different beautiful details like the arrangement of the cobblestones, the golden-blue patterns on a gorgeous china tea-set that she decides would be lovely for Elain and a small Afghan rug. She flips through an early edition of a book she wonders if Nesta will like and wonders how much effort it will take her to polish off a bejeweled dagger missing a few stones for Morrigan.

The bell tinkers when she leaves, the water dropping like taps on her forehead and someone nearby is kicking a ball. It skids across the hard ground. Feyre climbs a particularly sharp street that burns her thighs and somehow has forgotten her task of running Elain’s errand in the first place. The view of the city below that greets her from the heights knocks the wind from her lung, teases a smile of wonder to her face. She passes through a quiet residential area, greets a stranger and helps a little boy fetch his kitten from a tree.

What was meant to be a few hours has stretched into a lazy couple, and by the time she’s found the shop Elain sent her to, she comes face to face with a stop sign.

Sorry, I got lost she messages her sister beneath the canopy of a café, chewing on a bubblegum. They’re closed.

That’s fine, Elain immediately replies back. I’ll fetch it tomorrow.

Feyre’s jaw slows around the gum. Azriel wasn’t really caught up at work, was he?

Elain does her the curtesy of not lying. No. Fetch biscuits on your way please?

Ok.

Huh. Feyre slides her phone away and blows out a bubble that she then pops. Taps her foot against the ground and finds that she cannot be irritated with her sister for sending her on an unnecessary errand. She’s been feeling well below the weather lately but hadn’t thought anyone noticed. She should have known better than to evade Elain’s attentive care.

She goes to her sister’s house with biscuits and a cookie for Rhys, and a small quaint adventure to tell if anyone asks after her that is a lovely substitute to a stumped fine and frustration about hitting a creative brick wall. She has a few pictures to commemorate her time as well, so all in all, Feyre believes she came back with much more than what she left the house with.