thehighlordofspring

[thehighlordofspring]

[thehighlordofspring]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ💋ɞ˚‧｡⋆ 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲

send ‘reverse’ for the sender and receiver to swap. adjust wording as needed!

[ ghosted ] sender leans in close but doesn’t kiss, their breath brushes over receiver’s lips instead

[ shared air ] sender presses their forehead to receiver’s, their breath warm between them as they both go quiet

[ almost kiss ] sender cups receiver’s jaw and leans in, letting their breath linger. waiting for receiver to close the space

[ sleep-close ] reciever wakes up to the sound and feel of sender's soft breathing against their neck

[ held stare ] neither of them says anything. sender just leans closer until they can feel every breath between words

[ whispered secret ] sender speaks directly against receiver’s ear, their breath warm and slow

[ slow lean ] as receiver talks, sender gets closer… and closer… until their breath brushes over receiver’s words

[ exhale ] in the middle of a hug, sender exhales slowly against receiver’s neck and doesn’t pull away

[ back of the neck ] sender leans in behind receiver and their breath hits the back of their neck before they speak

[ silence ] in the middle of an argument, everything falls quiet. their breath is the only thing filling the gap between them

[ nose to nose ] sender and receiver’s noses bump gently, close enough to feel the warmth of each other’s breath

[thehighlordofspring]

L. V., meet me at the epilogue

[thehighlordofspring]

hey. hey, you. yeah. you know that prompt you're afraid to send? send it. that open starter you're really worried about answering? no worries, just answer it. i am on my knees BEGGING people to stop letting anxiety get in the way. anxiety is a silly goose. ignore the anxiety. you're not actually afraid of your mutual. they want to write with you. they want to get to know you. otherwise, you would not be mutuals.

this is officially me telling you to send that scary prompt and reply to that terrifying open starter. send the DM saying "hey i'm breaking the ice bc you're really cool and i want to get to know you and write with you". this is my challenge to you: take the leap, because that brief window of anxiety is not strong enough to stop you from making life-long friendships on this site!

[thehighlordofspring]

“Your naked body should only belong to those who fall in love with your naked soul.”

— Charlie Chaplin in a letter to his daughter, Geraldine

[thehighlordofspring]

le grand palais renovation ~ chatillon architectes | photos by laurent kronental

[thehighlordofspring]

As Lucien freed him from the wall, pain struck every nerve in Tamlin’s body. He doubled over, holding in a scream. Instead, his shoulders began to shake. It was spreading. He tried to limp on, even with Lucien’s help, but he couldn't command his limbs forward for a single moment longer. It was too much — even with his regenerative abilities — he was fading.

The High Lord was unsure whether the deep fog clouding his memory was a balm to his wounds or a bane on his life. “ST—Stop.”

Tamlin collapsed against the wall of the tunnel, which Lucien was using to lead him out. Was it the light of a lantern a few steps ahead, or something else which called to him? He was bleeding, from head toe. Amarantha had been cruel enough to drug him for the pain and glamour his wounds during the nightly feasts which she held, whenever she bored of her torture.

Fuzzy images of Feyre painted in Night Court runes and dancing next to Rhysand’s chair pushed past the block in his mind. What had they done to her? His Feyre, who was awkward, despite her experience, who was shy, despite her longing to be touched. “I can’t, Lucien. I can’t move.”

He was a lost cause. Tamlin was sure now — that this mountain would be the death of him. “Lu…”

Lucien, first, tried to support his weight alone, but eventually faltered. He was wounded too. His charm was a mask all of its own. “No —”

He shook his head, pressing his wrist against Tamlin’s forehead. It was pale, sweaty, and burning hot. “I am not leaving you. We promised. We swore. I am not leaving you here.”

The warmth of Lucien’s touch and presence should have felt more comforting, but Tamlin couldn’t feel it. He was beginning to lose focus. The pulse of pain from each of his limbs carried him away. “Take Feyre home, Lucien. I am…I am all but gone. Take her away from here. Please.”

Tamlin didn't say please often, but as he looked at Lucien, watching the lights spin above him, he begged.

Tests & Trickery | @prythiansfavoritefox

Tamlin blinked, adjusting his eyes to the dim light, and his ears to the echoes around him. His body was restrained against a sharp, stone wall. The grooves carved into his shoulders and left painful welts in his skin.

How long have I been out? He wondered.

There was no question of where he was — the stench of under the mountain wasn’t something easily forgotten. The scent of dark magic and bloodshed was Amarantha’s signature perfume. It was as tied to her as the hungry gaze that haunted Tamlin’s memory. He would have recognized the sharp weft of iron anywhere.

His vision adjusted. The room came into focus. He was in a cave, carved of red stone. The minimal furnishing had been arranged to resemble a bedroom, but he was chained to the wall on an invisible cross, arms stretched wide. The sight of the comfortable bed and soft rug stirred more dread in his stomach than a wall of iron bars ever could.

He had failed.

But, Feyre is free.

His servitude to Amarantha had only just begun. She’d only ever wanted one thing from him. Rhysand had been the one she’d settled for, in the end, after Tamlin had denied her time and time again.

Footsteps pattered in the hallway. His heart began to race. The heavy wooden door creaked. It dropped into his stomach.

Cauldron, please; not her.

A tall, thin figure clothed in a dark cloak slipped through the door. A flash of red hair from under the hood made bile rush up from Tamlin’s belly and burn his throat. His stomach twisted in a pretzel.

Feyre is free.

That was his only consolation.

If his life became nothing — Tamlin knew he had that.

Her human life will go on. Even if mine does not.

The stranger raised a lantern and the soft glow was enough to illuminate the familiar face of Lucien Vanserra. Tamlin heaved a sigh of relief. “Lucien!”

His friend fumbled with a set of keys.

“Wait, how are you free?” Tamlin whispered. He would never underestimate Lucien’s charisma, but after he’d been his only ally for half a century — he’d expected Amarantha’s punishment to be far harsher.

Unless that isn’t Lucien.

Tamlin’s eyes grew wide and he struggled against his chains. What sort of trickery was this?

“Show yourself.” He whispered. “Do not lie to my face. I have lost enough.”

[thehighlordofspring]

Taylor Swift, Treacherous

[thehighlordofspring]

{ I have seven prompts in my inbox to work on. How do I keep forgetting? Someone poke me with the motivation. They will be so great once I finish them. 😅 }

[thehighlordofspring]

The 1714 Joachim-Ma Stradivarius !

The working instrument was crafted in 1714 by Antonio Stradivari during his renowned “Golden Period”. 

This extraordinary instrument—valued at $12-18 million—is a centerpiece of the February Masters Week auction in New York. With all proceeds supporting scholarships at New England Conservatory (NEC), this sale is a celebration of artistry, history, and philanthropy.

Courtesy: Sotheby's

[thehighlordofspring]

whoever came up with black cherries, great work. also seashells and calla lilies, thank you you deserve a raise

[thehighlordofspring]

☀️🌙✨ tarot questions ✨🌙☀️

the fool: do you have any nicknames? the magician: have you ever written a poem or song about somebody else? the high priestess: what is your dream date? the empress: do you think you will ever get married? the emperor: what are some names that you like? the hierophant: do you believe in ghosts? the lovers: do you have a crush? the chariot: thoughts on astrology? strength: what is your dream occupation?  the hermit: what is your favorite soda pop? wheel of fortune: first three songs that come on shuffle? justice: favorite color of rose? the hanged man: favorite movie soundtrack? death: what are three things you want to do before you die? temperance: can you describe a strange dream you’ve had? the devil: do you enjoy thunderstorms? the tower: favorite colors to wear? the star: have you ever seen a psychic? the moon: have you ever written a love letter? the sun: do you believe in magic? judgement: do you enjoy school? the world: do you like waking up early?

[thehighlordofspring]

[thehighlordofspring]

Send me 🚪  ( or ‘door’ )   and I’ll generate a number for my muse to show up on your muse’s doorstep ( a mix of angst, silliness, and fluff ) …

crying

starving

possessed

sopping wet

blackout drunk

holding a baby

after a car crash

looking for a fight

covered in bruises

after being mugged

covered with confetti

severely dehydrated 

angry beyond reason

with a broken arm/leg

covered in blood (theirs)

after having a nightmare

after being missing for days

after the death of a loved one

covered in baking ingredients

about to faint from exhaustion

with a real crown on their head

on their knee, with ring in hand

covered in tiny scrapes and cuts

covered in blood ( someone else’s )

holding a baby animal ( sender’s choice )

[thehighlordofspring]

“  Flowers and Plants   ”

Photo by Ishikoro. Japan.

Love & Peace!

[thehighlordofspring]

[thehighlordofspring]