#Chase: the Mountain Sea Goat

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 16- Lavender 1

Alright, guys. I really hope you enjoy how I've gone about introducing Shanks to the reader. I'm not looking to complicate anything. I just want to have fun, and my two handsome boys deserve it.

Pairings. Reader x Shanks, Reader x Dracule Mihawk

Warnings! None. Shanks is flirty. Mihawk is only mentioned for now.

Masterlist

Shanks doesn’t expect to see an island this far out of the way of everything. It’s unnervingly close to the calm belt, and the Yonko probably would have never found it if he and his crew hadn’t been on a three-day bender after a successful raid on the last island. Maybe it was a little irresponsible of him and his crew, but sometimes he just liked to see where the Grand Line would take them. This tiny island was new, so that obviously meant that he and his crew should check it out. 

Lucky Roux drops the anchor, and Shanks flashes to shore with his first and second mates. The island is on the smaller side, though a small mountain range rises in the west. The jungle is thick, and Shanks can hear all manner of wildlife within. The sands of the long beach they’ve landed on are beautiful and inviting, prompting a big grin to stretch over the redhead's face, “Get the booze, Benn. I think this will be the perfect place.” 

The older man scoffs at his captain, but he has already turned around to begin shouting orders to the men. Shanks and Yasopp step further into the island, and that’s when the Yonko spots a small footpath that leads into the jungle. He nods his head to the path, and Yasopp unhooks his pistoles from his belt. 

The two men follow the footpath for a while. It winds through the thick foliage until it empties out into a clearing. The sight isn’t something either man is expecting.

A cottage sits innocently in the middle of the clearing. Several sea glass wind chimes hang from the front stoop, and the tinkling melody is pleasant on his ears. Three chickens are clucking around, and even a moody-looking goat glares at them from its pen. A massive garden sits on the left side of the building, and Shanks can see smoke rising from the chimney. Yasopp gives his captain a look, only to jerk back around when they hear the door of the cottage swing open. 

Shanks can hear music playing loudly from inside, a slow, bluesy tune that has his browns rising. No wonder whoever lived here had not heard the commotion he and his men made. A massive furry, grey mutt comes running out of the house, going straight after the chickens and sending the hens flying into the air. The rooster crows and chases after the dog, sending the mutt careening backward to run the other way. Last but not least, Shanks watches a young woman step out of the house. 

His heart speeds up when he sees her. She is stunning, the sunlight bouncing off her hair and making her glow in the morning light. She is dressed in tight leggings and a loose but thick-looking sweater poncho, and Shanks wonders why the young woman would want to dress that way in such warm weather. He dismisses the thought and starts walking forward, a grin on his face as he opens his mouth to shout a greeting. 

“Hello! We didn’t know that this island had already belonged to someone. We saw the foot trails at the beach and wanted to investigate.”

Shanks watches as you freeze in place, and his eyes widen just a tad when he sees snow flurries scatter around you. Huh, a devil fruit user all the way out here. He plasters an easy smile on his face and saunters forward only to stop when he catches the glare on the young woman’s face. He raised his hand in the air to show that he meant no harm.  

“We didn’t mean to frighten you! I just wanted to see if it would be okay if my crew and I could crash here for a little while. Can I come closer to introduce myself and my friend here?”

The shaggy mutt seems to answer for you as he bounds forward and slams into Shanks. He grunts and keeps his footing, bending down to pet the dog, “You sure got a friendly mutt!” 

You grimace as you watch your fool of a dog run right up to the red-haired stranger. You stomp forward, annoyed at having your day ruined by some unknown captain and his crew, but at least he was being friendly. You examine the man when you get close enough, taking in his beach bum outfit and shaggy red hair. His face is scruffy with unruly facial hair, and he has three scars over his left eye. When the wind blows, his cloak opens enough that you get a peek at the empty space on his left side. The way he held himself reminded you interestingly enough of Mihawk. Maybe that’s why you decided to humor the pirate. 

“His name is Hank. How um. How long would you and your crew want to stay here?” You ask him as you come to a stop a safe distance away. The last people to come to your island had been the pirates that Mihawk had taken care of, so it unnerved you to have someone else show up. 

Shanks shrugs, “For as long as you tolerate us,” he says with a handsome grin. You fight down the way your cheeks heat up when he directs that look right at you. He stands and offers you his hand, “I’m Shanks, and that’s my second mate, Yasopp.” 

You reach to shake his hand, and a feeling of Deja vu settles over you when he lifts your hand to place a kiss on your knuckles. Shanks winks at you, lips curling in a teasing smirk when you jerk your hand away from him. Quietly, you offer your name and give a small smile to Yasopp.

Shanks repeats your name slowly, tasting each syllable as he watches you step away. Your goat has escaped its pen and now stands at your side, beady eyes seeming to stare into his soul. You drop your hand on top of its head and scratch at where the horns grow out of its head, “Oh, this is Neal. He isn’t very fond of men, so you may want to steer clear of him.” 

“I’ll take your word for it,” Shanks snickers and waves Yasopp away, “Go on back to the ship. Tell the others that we are guests here.” 

The dark-skinned man grinned and gave a quick salute and a goodbye to you before he loped off back through the jungle.

Now alone, Shanks shifts his weight and gives you an assessing look, “So. What’s a beautiful girl like you doing all alone on an island so close to the Calm Belt?” 

You lick your lips, filing the new bit of information away for later. Dracule had yet to tell you where your island was located. You had stopped asking a long time ago for maps and topography graphs, especially after Mihawk had told you about the more dangerous places and players inside the Grand Line. You were happy on your island, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t want to know where you were. 

But now that you thought about it, you were 80% sure that the man in front of you was one of the few people that Dracule had warned you about. Red Haired Shanks, Captain of the Red Force, and one of the four Emporers of the Sea. 

“I live here, have my whole life,” you tell him and settle for being vague. If Dracule told you to be wary, then be wary you would be.

Shanks makes a huh sound in the back of his throat, “Really? Seems pretty lonely out here,” He comments, and you shrug as an answer, “Will you show me around? You’ve got a lovely home.” 

You can’t help but burn in pride at his comment. You are very fond of your home and all the work you’ve put into it, so you don’t think twice when you nod and begin to lead the captain to your home. Shanks follows with a smug grin, eyes flickering over your shapely legs as he follows you. 

You don’t take him inside yet. Instead, you point out the gardens and flower beds that line your home and show him the view from the cliff behind the cottage. Neal had thankfully wandered back into his pen, but Hank seemed to have taken a liking to Shanks, for the big lug had yet to leave the pirate's side. You shoot him a look. Traitor. 

Surprisingly, the redhead makes good conversation after getting over the awkwardness of the sudden visitation, and you find yourself relaxing in his presence. He seemed genuine in his goodwill and cheer, and his lax behavior had you smiling and inviting him inside. 

“Would you like some tea?” You ask after a moment of comfortable silence. Shanks easily agrees, and you lead him inside your home. Neal bleats and tries to bite Shanks when he passes the pen, and the redhead shoots the goat a glare. 

You snicker at the sight and go about the kitchen to make your guest some tea. You avoid the peppermint, which is meant specifically for Mihawk, and instead settle on a strong lavender tea. You mix in sugar for both mugs and then hand it off to Shanks. 

Shanks sips, humming at the taste and finding it not bad. He wasn’t usually a tea person, but he could be polite. He looks around your home, taking in the hanging herbs and the strings of peppers that crisscross by your windows. Your home looks straight out of a storybook, and the homey atmosphere has him sighing deeply, shoulders loose and relaxed. Shanks doesn’t remember the last time he felt like this in someone else’s presence. He takes another sip of the sweet-tasting drink and casts his eyes to the opening of the living room, and his gaze promptly zeros in on a familiar-looking coat. 

It's a long coat, dark and made out of fine leather with intricate patterns sewn into the arms and along the sides. The inside is a deep dead, and Shanks knows in that instant that this is the young woman that his friend had spoken of all those months ago. No, he corrects, it’s been close to a year since the last time the two men had spoken. Two emotions war inside of him at once. Elation that this is the woman who had caught Mihawk's attention and pure green envy that the other man had found you first. 

Shanks keeps his face clear of anything that might give him away and then knocks back his tea, placing it in the sink to be washed at a later time. You eye his sudden movements, and Shanks responds with an easy grin and a hand extended out to you. The pirate wouldn’t dare try and steal you away from his friend, but there was nothing wrong with the two of you getting to know one another in his eyes. 

“Come meet my crew?” The redhead offers quietly. There is pressure in the air as if taking Shanks’ hand would open a new chapter in your life. You debate for a long time, looking up and catching his dark gaze. His eyes are like melted chocolate, so soft and inviting, and so much different from the only other man you know. 

What would Mihawk think of you out there on the beach, mingling with a dangerous pirate crew? You knew who this man was and knew some of the rumors about him from Mihawk and Perona. But then you think, harder, and know that Dracule would never begrudge you having fun. He actively encouraged it whenever you became playful, though it was usually Perona that he would send after you. 

You lick your lips and make a decision, reaching out to take Shanks’ hand. 

“Okay. Just for a bit, though.”

Shanks grins like a hyena and wraps his fingers tight around your hand, “Sure thing, baby. Let’s go.”

The pirate captain tugs you out of your kitchen and then out of your home entirely, leading you down the path and to the beach so quickly that you don’t have the time to examine the new pet name or how it makes you feel. The redhead leads you to where his crew has already laid out cases of booze and food. Shanks grins at you and tugs you close, flurries exploding around the two of you when you fall into his side. He enjoys the wide-eyed look that you shoot him and then turns you towards his crew.  

“Guys,” Shanks announces and winks, sending your cheeks up in flames, “this is,_, our host!”  

 @writingmysanity @kenkenmaaa @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar

#fanfic #one piece #reader insert #fluff #dracule mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #mihawk x reader #opla mihawk #mihawk x you #mihawk x y/n #shanks x you #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #opla shanks x reader #shanks x y/n #peppermint tea #opla mihawk x reader #opla shanks #opla #opla x reader

[peculiarxafternoon]

pile 1 pile 2 pile 3

𝙥𝙖𝙘: 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙡

in a world where we, now more than ever, are aware of how small our existence is, it is rather easy to get lost in the sea of possibilities, media, and numbers. however, if a butterfly's wings fluttering can result in a hurricane, surely one's breath can cause mountains to move, no?

wake up, world. open up your eyes, open up your mind.

in this pac reading, you will receive:

i. a discovery of your true self

ii. a revelation on how you change the world by being you

iii. an ateez song from their newest album "the world: ep 1 – movement" that suits you

! for entertainment purposes only!

! constructive criticism and feedback are welcome!

! decks used: rider waite tarot deck, mermaid tarot, astrological oracle cards!

pile 1

i. your true self

(cards: ace of swords, five of pentacles x2, nine of cups rx, three of cups, knight of pentacles, three of wands rx, capricorn)

conflicted between calculations and leisure, your true self seems to want it all. you want the fame, the money, the luxury, you want the parties and the fun, you want the easy, sweet life after the tough, humble beginnings. a saviour complex for yourself only, it seems you wish to be the underdog who made it happen with the help of your strong will and undeniable charm. there's not much that you wish for, still, just a straight path from point a to point b, all that you want neatly packed in a gift box, there. your true self wants to escape the poverty, the lack, the absence. you keep chasing and chasing without finding the end to your tunnel, yet impatience never got anyone anywhere. you're but at the beginning of your journey, so keep calm and continue through the seemingly abyssal path. your eyes have yet to get used to the darkness, and the light is far from here. one by one, your wishes will come true, only once you accept that you do, in fact, want to achieve greatness, and that, in time, you will. there's a drive inside you, a push to get you far. your true self is full of ambition – don't cut its wings.

ii. how you change the world

(cards: queen of pentacles, three of cups, nine of cups, nine of wands, the lovers, the high priestess)

the world changes as you change with it. the more you grow, the more you start to believe in yourself and your abilities, the more your environment responds to who you are becoming. the world changes by your ability to balance out the good and the bad, the boundaries and the divided seas. channel your true self more when you feel ready to, no matter the situation or the formality of it. whether you're out with your lover or at a meeting, you shine when you let your energy freely flow – and your light reflects on everyone around you. once you accept that you deserve more, and once you understand that you already have it, your environment will change to match your mindset. the world changes when you realise you're part of it, but it's also part of you, too.

iii. ateez song that suits you

— wake up the world with thunder, we are

we are unstoppable like a storm

thank you for reading <3

pile 2

i. your true self

(cards: eight of wands rx, queen of swords, the hierophant, five of wands, the empress, ten of cups rx, venus)

after questioning over and over why and how, you've found yourself on a path of your own. the person who said to do things by the book surely must not have been the one to write it, since, to you, it doesn't make sense. you can not be held back, told what to do, controlled. you do things by your own book, one with some of the tons of knowledge you have accumulated over your lifetime(s). because your definition of femininity, independence, beauty, is better than whatever society could come up with, and you know this. you advance in life, sure that your sheer wits and prowess will get you to your destination, no matter how rough or challenging the road is. and, if being the black sheep or the escape goat of the family is what it takes, you will gladly claim those roles as yours, even if your feelings – ever intense and most certainly vivid – get wounded. you can find love in the darkest of places, and that is a power you have naturally. search for it, listen to it calling your name. your true self knows what they want, and who they want to be. embrace that, learn to let it flow through you. freedom and self definition is worth more than following the masses, you know that better than anyone.

ii. how you change the world

(cards: ten of cups rx, nine of pentacles rx, page of pentacles rx, page of swords rx, eight of cups, the magician rx)

you're not afraid to do the world's dirty work. if that's what it takes for people to open up their eyes, or for you to help, you will do it with no hesitation. you learn from your past – the bad memories of early childhood and education – and you use up that knowledge to its fullest potential. you change the world by letting go of whatever used to hold you back, impose itself on you, and making your way to where you truly want to be. truly, moments of low happiness, confidence and self respect are bound to happen. you know that, but when others see you at peace with it, it inspires them to move forward without fearing any possible mishaps. you stay still to face the reality of the world as it is, raw and unadulterated, and the world turns around to face you, too.

iii. ateez song that suits you

— on top of the world, we stand again

shout louder! shout out loud!

thank you for reading <3

pile 3

i. your true self

(cards: page of wands, six of pentacles rx, the chariot, page of pentacles, eight of pentacles, strength rx, venus, jupiter)

hunger and thirst combined, you're ready to eat the world raw. there's a curiosity behind your eyes, a mischievous glint pointing to the start of a new adventure before sunrise. you look forward, always onto the next thing, always up to something exciting, that will get you moving. you want more, bigger, better, to be known as the best and crowned as such – no less would fit you, anyway. charm and ambition, ready to fight even when your body protests, always putting in the work before others can, because you need to be at the top at all times. who would you be if you weren't, after all? conflicted between sharing the success and hoarding it, you choose to advance forward anyway. the goal isn't to make friends, nor to be known as part of something; it is simply to be known, to know, and to keep on learning, more and more, until you feel not only deserving of your status, but also ready to move onto a better version of who you used to be. truth is only relative and the world is most unpredictable, yet your true self knows one thing: they want all of it in their palms and will keep on fighting to get there.

ii. how you change the world

(cards: page of cups, ace of cups rx, nine of pentacles, four of cups, justice, the devil)

it's interesting how you don't limit yourself to just changing your close environment of friends and family – there's a need to rule the world here, to have the ability to do as you wish, when you wish to do it. you change the world by balancing your thoughts and feelings, and by figuring out what you want to with what you have. especially when you accept your feelings, and the vulnerability that comes with them. sure, achieving the status you want requires a certain persona, but your health depends on the one of your feelings too. you sometimes find solace, confidence, and peace in the raw, the taboo, the disturbing. the world is changing by you immersing yourself in who and what you want to be. you courageously face the uncomfortable and turn the world's face to it too, as if to say "look".

iii. ateez song that suits you

— everyone raise your heads, face to face

look at the grayish world, ooh

thank you for reading <3

! don't copy or repost my work!

#{🌱 pick a card 🌱} #pac #pick a card #pick a card reading #tarot #tarot reading #ateez #ateez guerrilla #ateez comeback

[velvaetalt]

jailbreak husbands

“you got me!?” ⛓️ “yeah, i got you, leo.”

[ on spotify ]

Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls — Suicide Romantics by Des Rocs — Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene by Seafret — Train by Brick + Mortar — Me and My Husband by Mitski — All the Pretty Girls by KALEO — California by The Delta Saints — Strangers by The Kinks — R U Mine? by Arctic Monkeys — The Phoenix by Fall Out Boy — FUCK YOU HEATHER by boyish — Northern Attitude (with Hozier) by Noah Kahan — Way Down We Go (Recorded at Spotify Studios NYC) by KALEO — The Only Thing by Sufjan Stevens — Movement by Hozier — The Garden by The Crane Wives — Stuck In The Middle With You by Stealers Wheel — Interlude: I’m Not Angry Anymore by Paramore — Infra-red by Three Days Grace — Devil Town by Cavetown — Up To No Good by The Hoosiers — Dear Fellow Traveller by Sea Wolf — Just One Yesterday by Fall Out Boy & Foxes — The Chain by Fleetwood Mac — I Follow Rivers by Lykke Li — Hard Came the Rain by Rag’n’Bone Man — Take Me to Church by Hozier — I Hate Everything About You by Halocene & Violet Orlandi — Fourth of July by Sufjan Stevens — Howlin’ for You by The Black Keys — Come with Me Now by KONGOS — Golden Dandelions by Barns Courtney — Nothing Personal by Des Rocs — No Good by KALEO — Very Good Bad Thing by Mother Mother — Psalms 40:2 by The Mountain Goats — Romantic Homicide by d4vd — Sinners by Barns Courtney — Hold Me Like a Grudge by Fall Out Boy — Love Like You by Caleb Hyles — Come a Little Closer by Cage The Elephant — Left Hand Free by alt-J — John Wayne by Lady Gaga — FOR YOUR LOVE by Måneskin — Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol — Exit Music (For a Film) by Radiohead — Secret Worlds by The Amazing Devil — Banks by lincoln Dear Arkansas Daughter by Lady Lamb — Paul by Cavetown — Beautiful Crime by Tamer — Ebb and Flow by The Dead Tongues — Too Late To Say Goodbye by Cage The Elephant — Christmas Kids by Roar — Never Love an Anchor by The Crane Wives — Something in the Orange by Zach Bryan — Hell and You by Amigo the Devil — Vulture Culture by Fangclub —I Bet on Losing Dogs by Mitski — The Winner Takes It All by ABBA — Waiting Room by Phoebe Bridgers

#bit of a long one. will probably expand #remember when i used to draw? #sure haven’t done that in a while #anyways uh. enjoy #a way out #vinceo #velvet curates

[thetavolution]

It's time for Ingrid's brother! Finally!

SEBASTIAN

Full name:  Sebastian Thomas Sullenberger Name meaning:  Sebastian: venerable or revered; Thomas: twin; Sullenberger: habitation name for people from Sollenberg or Schallenberg Nicknames: Seb, Bastian, and Bash Pronouns: He/Him  Race: Half Deep Gnome and Half Forest Gnome Age: 25  Orientation: Gay Romance: Undecided Class: Wizard Subclass: Transmutation Origin: Sage Theme Song: Failsafe — The Choir Practice / This Year — The Mountain Goats / Always Tired — Weathers / Money Issues — Chase Petra

Personality Sebastian shares his sister Ingrid’s anxiety and, like her, he’s just as determined to overcome it. He’s the type to go above and beyond to protect people and the things he cares about. Rules and regulations help ease his anxieties, but it doesn’t mean he’s unwavering fool. He knows situations and people can be nuanced. 

He has mastered the art of weaponizing rules and laws to help navigate sticky situations. There are even some magistrates that don’t challenge his knowledge of the law. It’s not that he thinks laws are inherently good. He just really loves structure and consistency. He can also sniff out a loophole like a bloodhound. It can make him a little uptight, but he’s so nice about it that people tend to forgive him. He’s thoughtful, gentle, and extremely organized. 

When it comes to other people’s problems, he has an easier time being level-headed and doling out sage advice. He can sometimes be something of a therapist to the people around him. He prefers to talk things out when possible rather than fight. He’s a perfectionist which can lead to procrastination or even a mental breakdown. His perfectionism can make him insufferable. He has a dry sense of humor that can be overlooked, especially if people aren’t expecting it.

As an adventurer, it’s not unusual for him to come across a town or settlement, solve everyone’s problems, and leave immediately. It gives him an air of mystery when, in reality, he’s just reserved and hates being perceived. He leaves after finishing his duties because he doesn’t want to have to talk to anybody or give any speeches.

He almost never raises his voice, even when incredibly angry. If he ever does, it’s terrifying. As Patrick Rothfuss said, “There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night without a moon, and the anger of a gentle man.”

Background He’s Ingrid’s younger half-brother. Sebastian was born in the Underdark in Silverdale, a small deep gnome settlement. His father, Sully, married his mother, Anna, a forest gnome after divorcing Ingrid’s mother, Greta. He never totally fit in with the other deep gnomes when growing up due to looking like a forest gnome. His deep gnome heritage isn’t obvious. Well-meaning travelers have asked him why he wasn’t down in the Underdark more times than he cares to remember. 

Sebastian never really got on with his parents. His mother, Anna, was preoccupied with her husband. She was terrified Sully would go back to his ex-wife, Greta. Anna would pit Sebastian and his half-sister against each other, and Anna often took her anger out on Ingrid. Sebastian was the golden child and he hated every moment of it. He just wanted to know his big sister.

Through it all, Sebastian loved and admired his sister. He was devastated the day Ingrid left home to travel the world, but he never blamed her for her choice. Inspired by Ingrid, he chose to leave the Underdark as well. He now wanders Faerûn as an adventurer. He hopes to one-day reunite with Ingrid and have the brother-sister relationship that was stolen from them.

Likes: Ingrid, magic, studying magic and potions, potions, adventuring, rules and regulations, tinkering with things, attending plays, reading, music, history, and taller guys (which are most guys who aren’t gnomes let’s be fucking real)

Dislikes: His parents, public speaking, loneliness, not knowing how to really socialize, mouth noises, small talk, chaos, disorganization, and strong sunlight

Fears: Life is scary enough, but that’s why he hides behind rules and laws. It gives him structure that his brain craves to mitigate the fear of being alive. He’s terrified of a lack of structure which makes being an adventurer tough. (It does mean he does great around paladins.) He also has acrophobia. He can’t really stand near the edge when he’s up high.

Quirks:  He generally avoids eye contact with most people. Whenever he’s thinking about something for a long time, he stares off into space. When he gets nervous, he wrings his hands a lot.

Mental Health:  The Sullenberger kids are all messed up. His need for rules and regulations comes from a lack of structure as a kid. He struggles with self-worth. His mother often pitted him against his sister and being the golden child really took its toll on him. Despite being the “perfect child,” Anna also didn’t hesitate to criticize him. As a kid, he followed rules out of fear he would lose favor with his parents, too. 

He isn’t great at relationships. He treats people well, he just sucks at keeping in touch. He also assumes people hate him so he tries not to bother everyone. People sometimes mistake this for disinterest on his part, or they assume he’s the one who doesn’t like them. People see him as a loner and, to some extent his is. But also he’s genuinely very lonely and wishes he was better at connecting. 

He pushes people away as a self-defense mechanism. He assumes they’ll reject him so he might as well distance himself.

Favorite Foods: Harvest Stew, Leek Bread, Calimshan Knots, Poppyseed Cake, and Deep Rothé Steak

Favorite Drinks: Earth Dragon's Eye Tea, Fire Lichen Liquor, and Rockgrit

Favorite Flower: Tulips

Height:  4’9” / 144.78 cm

Skin: Bronze

Hair:  Light Blue

Eyes:  Hazel

Color Scheme:  He generally wears a lot of purples and greens. 

Fashion Sense: He is a simple man who doesn’t really worry about clothing. He just wears what is most practical. I would argue this man needs someone to dress him so he can look nice for a change.

He carries a belief that he doesn’t deserve to dress nice, which is why he keeps it so simple.

Family: 

Calvin “Sully” Sullenberger  Sully is the head of the household. He secretly likes having Anna and Greta fight over him, ignoring the damage it has done to his children. He’s friendly and boisterous, but selfish. He’s an Ironhand Gnome, although he’s not as dedicated to the cause as others. He’s there for selfish reasons.

Greta Bloodstone  She’s Ingrid’s mother. She’s a lot like Ingrid, but even more docile than her daughter. She doesn’t stand up to Sully or Anna as often as she should. Ingrid fears she may be too much like her mother.

Anna Sullenberger She's Sully's second wife who terrorizes Greta and Ingrid. As horrible as she is to everyone, she's convinced she's the real victim in all of this. She's needy and loves being the center of attention.

Ingrid Sullenberger She’s his older half-sister. They aren’t close, but he hopes they will be someday.

#tav oc #tav bg3 #my tav #bg3 oc #bg3 tav #Sebastian #Ingrid's brother

[emptyshellofanillusionwizard]

Three-Song Playlists :D

thank you @brother-genitivi for the tag! tagging: @boorishbrambling @peanutsans @ysali @feluka

Baqir Lavellan (Dragon Age Inquisition)

Spent Gladiator 2 by The Mountain Goats (Like a spent gladiator Crawling in the Colosseum dust/Who can count on his remaining limbs/All the people he can trust)

All The Dead Kids by AJJ (And one day I will truly set myself on fire/So you can see how dim my light is)

Southwestern Territory by The Mountain Goats (Work like a dog all day/Born to chase cars away/Die on the road someday)

Hasim Khoury (Baldur's Gate 3)

Saliva by Victor Vaughn, MF DOOM (Great balls of fire/Guess who just crawled out the muck and mire/That could make you trust a motherfuckin' liar)

Bitchboy by The Oozes (Oh I'm a cunt and the end is nigh/Bitchboy Bitchboy I'm a fucking Bitchboy/All I want in this whole wide world is to be your Bitchboy)

Show You a Body by Haley Heynderickx (In sickness and health/I showed you a body/Like a cluttered garage)

Piety (Dungeons and Dragons)

To Someone From a Warm Climate (Uiscefhuaraithe) by Hozier (But it came easy, darlin'/As natural as another leg around you in the bed frame)

Something For Your M.I.N.D by Superorganism (I think you know what I need to get by/Something for your mind (mind), mind (mind), mind)

A Big Day For Grimley by AJJ (I went back to the desert/With a skull full of teeth/But now I'm quieter/Than I thought I'd be)

Abrar-Afaf Bertilak (Dungeons and Dragons)

Dream Girl Evil by Florence + The Machine (Did I disappoint you?/Did mommy make you sad?)

El Bent El Shalabeya by Fairuz (Under the arches/My love is waiting/It wasn't easy for me to let you down, my love) [these are the translated lyrics]

Rusalka, Rusalka/The Wild Rushes by The Decemberists (Beware the wild rushes, my mother told me/That grow on the bank side along the salt sea/But I being young, I heeded her none)

Thank youu!!

#thank you so much for tagging meee #listen i know it's sorta an eclectic mix but these are just the characters i have the most brainrot about rn #also i put the lyrics for el bent el shalabeya in english because 1) most of y'all can't read arabic and 2) it's hard to put arabic in #with english already there #anyways these are my blorbos #hasim #baqir lavellan #piety #dragon age #bg3 #dungeons and dragons #tag game

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

any chance you have a list of all the music in Help I'm Alive?

i was going to say no bc i was keeping a running tally as i was writing in mac's stickies program and then my laptop fucking died and i never saved it anywhere BUT then i remembered that when i reread it a while ago i did write down the music... although looking at this list i feel like i might have gotten distracted and forgotten some stuff and also it's definitely not totally in order for some reason and i didn't write down any song names for some other reason. but it's what i have so here is a possibly incomplete list of artists mentioned with songs/albums that got a shout-out added in wherever i can remember them off the top of my head lol:

rilo kiley, a better son/daughter

los campesinos!, the sea is a good place to think of the future & also romance is boring and whatever the last track on that album was

nirvana, lithium

hole, celebrity skin & reasons to be beautiful

amy winehouse

animal collective, my girls

bright eyes, a song about the face you put on in the morning that i don't actually know bc i stopped listening to them after lifted & like thanks to @propinquitous for pointing me towards their less adolescently sociopathic Later Work

the killers, mr. brightside

passion pit

ok go, here we go again

radiohead, i definitely picked a specific song for this one bc the scene it was for seemed to demand it and like listened to radiohead on purpose to find one that fit and be able to describe it because i believe sometimes one must Suffer For Their Art but i have no idea what it was and don't feel like looking it up

the thermals

the yeah yeah yeahs, maps

the dandy warhols, i don't actually remember writing this in but obviously you were the last high, which is a big mood for this series in general

bon iver

elliott smith

mike doughty, i hear the bells

wolf parade

modest mouse, float on

white stripes, seven nation army

metric, old world underground where are you now, i don't think i picked a specific song for that scene but it would be combat baby

taylor swift, all too well

celine dion, my heart will go on

violent femmes, blister in the sun, which is a private in-joke with myself because that's the song that angela chase of my so-called life spends like 2 minutes dancing goofily in her bedroom to when her voice over tells us she woke up one day and was over jordan catalano

the 1975, sex

the cure, lovesong

rolling stones, gimme shelter

manic street preachers

bob dylan, mr. tambourine man

lcd soundsystem, all my friends

feist, i feel it all

my bloody valentine

the hold steady, stay positive

the mountain goats, this year

charly bliss, capacity, which was almost the title track for part two

sleater-kinney [fwiw it has stiff competition but if i had to pick i think this is the most unrealistic thing i put in quentin's spotify library]

rainer maria, thought i was

madonna, like a prayer, and also whatever the hell else i put on eliot's pop divas selkie mixtape. uh. dancing on my own maybe? superbass for sure

i'm pretty sure i snuck carly rae jepsen in there somewhere as diegetic music quentin doesn't know and if i did do that it was definitely run away with me

& of course the title tracks for the series: metric, help i'm alive; rilo kiley, portions for foxes; & the hold steady, how a resurrection really feels

#it would have been funny of me to just say 'yeah!' and then link you to pitchfork's top tracks 2008 #which i definitely read as research bc i couldn't remember all the guitar mans my friends were into in high school #did i not include spoon? i should have included spoon if i didn't my dude friends were obsessed with them #anyway this list all together feels very funny and embarrassing to look at #but honestly. it's quentin coldwater what would i even be doing if it wasn't a little embarrassing #i should put together an actual playlist one of these days it would honestly slap #writing tag #askbox

[whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk]

The Grand Tour - Chapter 2 (AO3)

(Nesta and Cassian arrive in the Day Court, and Helion plays matchmaker. Sorry not sorry, I physically can't write short chapters...)

'It wasn’t the world she’d dreamed of, but it was a world nonetheless.  And for the first time, Nesta wanted to see it.'

One day, you will marry a prince. He will lay the world at your feet, sparkling with promise and possibility. One day, you will have freedom, and riches, and all your heart has ever desired. 

One day.

One day.

That was what Nesta told herself, over and over and over, when she was a child. When her feet bled from dancing lessons, it was okay. Because it was her beautiful dancing that would snare her her prince. When her fingers ached from playing the piano, that was okay, too. Because her music was beautiful and elegant, and any man would want her after hearing her play. One day, she would marry a prince, and be far away from her mother, and her grandmother. She would marry a prince— or a king, or an emperor, maybe, who would take her far, far from here, to lands she had never heard of, to places she’d only seen in her dreams. 

She had been pinched and prodded and perfected ever since she could walk, moulded and shaped by her mother’s hands. She took every scolding, every beating, every ache and pain. She made sure her spine was always straight, her curtseys always perfect. Her words were always clear and never mumbled, and when she sang, she could make any man contemplate wedding bells and proposals. All of it— to earn her a prince. She just wanted to taste sea air for the first time in her life, and if the only way she could do that was by marrying well, then Nesta was going to win herself that prince ten times over.

All she had ever wanted was to see the world. 

She made do with the stories her father shared when he returned from his trips abroad. As soon as his horse’s hooves sounded on their driveway, she would be waiting, a hundred questions swimming inside her mind, all of them demanding to be asked. It would earn her a scolding from her mother, but Nesta just wanted to know what the world was like beyond the confines of their manor, beyond their town, beyond this island. She wanted to know if life was better over there. Easier. Happier.

Father would tell her stories of the people he had seen, the places he had visited. Hot springs and waterfalls, great canyons and caverns. There were cities on the Continent built on canals, where they didn’t use carriages, but small boats to get around. There were others that were miles and miles from the sea, high up in the mountains, where people relied on goats and donkeys to transport their wares. Her mother would frown and tell her it wasn’t ladylike to have such adventures, but it was okay, because in her dreams, her prince would conquer the world, and Nesta would be by his side, revelling in the world and all it’s wonders. 

All those dreams had shattered the moment Nesta had been plunged into that godforsaken Cauldron. There would be no prince, now. No grand marriage. Those small villages up mountainsides that her father had told her of, where their weaving was so fine people travelled miles to buy just one tapestry, would never take her money now. There would be no sailor, no boat willing to escort her through that city built on canals. They would sooner chase her away with pitchforks and torches. 

It was a different kind of grief, the passing of that dream, but Nesta mourned all the same. It was the closing of a door, an irrevocable parting that cleaved her in two, rubbing salt into the wound of her transformation. All of her dreams had turned to dust, and everything she’d ever wanted— everything she’d ever worked for, was gone.

And yet—

It wasn’t a prince by her side, but a warrior. 

When she had been mortal, she had resented the land above the wall. When Feyre had been taken and Nesta had followed, she had been prepared to find unimaginable horrors, a land drenched in so much mortal blood that the rivers ran red. She hadn’t expected there to be wonders or marvels, but when she first set foot in Velaris, she saw paved streets and pretty little shopfronts. No blood, no barbarity. She had never thought that the rest of the Courts might be similar. She hadn’t even known there had been Courts when she was mortal. She didn’t know why they were separated or why some seemed to be stuck in the seasons. Didn’t know the history or the geography of this land beyond the wall, and she had never really wanted to. 

Until Cassian had extended his hand and asked her to come with him. 

It wasn’t the world she’d dreamed of, but it was a world nonetheless. 

And for the first time, Nesta wanted to see it.

***

It was a flicker. Just a flicker— so small, and so fragile Nesta thought one wrong move could blow it out entirely. But the moment her feet touched ground in the Day Court, she felt an old flicker of curiosity ignite, one that she had thought the Cauldron had burned out of her completely. Ever since she had been forced under those icy waters, she had felt no curiosity for the world around her. On good days she had felt apathy— but mostly, it was anger, disdain, and mistrust. She hadn’t wanted to know why the sky in the Night Court was clearer than anywhere else. Hadn’t cared why the clouds in the Dawn court were in such beautiful shades of pink and gold. None of it had mattered to her.

But as Cassian lowered her to the ground, as her dress whispered against his leathers, she felt questions burning in her throat. Her silk shoes made no sound on the polished marble floor of the large, circular courtyard, and the only noise was that of a gilded fountain in the centre. 

It was— beautiful.

White roses climbed trellises up to windows edged with gold, and elegant columns spiralled up towards a terracotta roof. Even the tiles, Nesta noted… Even the roof tiles had gilded edges, as though everything in this palace reflected the tastes of the High Lord, all white and gold and fine details. It was the kind of place her mother would have approved of. The kind of place her prince might have lived in. 

“It’s warmer here,” she said softly, feeling the late evening sun on her face. She had worn a thick dress, and had been glad of it during the long trip from Velaris. It had been cold above the clouds, so cold that she had clung to Cassian’s warmth, convinced that she could feel ice forming on her eyelashes. She had spent the entire flight with her head pressed firmly into his neck. If there was one thing she didn’t like, she had discovered, it was heights. He had promised not to drop her, and teased her mercilessly, but still, she felt nauseous every time he ducked with the wind. The warmth of the sun and the solid ground beneath her feet both seemed heavenly to her now.

“Shouldn’t it be?” Cassian asked, stretching out his wings and letting the sun warm them. She looked at how the light filtered through the membrane, how his scars stood out so starkly. How the bottoms of his wings were more scar tissue than anything else, and she knew that those were the wounds he’d gotten that night, when he’d been bleeding on the floor of a foreign castle, reaching for her while she was still mortal. His wings shivered and stretched, and for half a moment Nesta felt that curiosity kindle deep in her chest. She wanted to reach out and touch them. Wanted to know what those wings felt like beneath her fingertips. She cleared her throat and dragged her attention back to the sprawling palace before them. She shrugged in answer to his question.

“It’s colder. Back at—“ she stumbled, not being able to say the word home. “Back in Velaris.”

“It’s warmer here than it would be in the Night Court, that’s true,” Cassian said with a shrug of his own. “But it’s still winter here just like at home.” He scanned her, watching as she looked up at the sun again. “It’s not like the seasonal courts.”

“Why?” she asked, and Cassian tilted his head, a small smile on his lips. Her curiosity seemed to amuse him, somehow, as if it were a side of her he’d never seen before. She realised with a small start that it wasn’t. Cassian had never known her when she wasn’t angry or bitter. Never known her when she wasn’t grieving.

She hadn’t ever asked such questions. Hadn’t ever shown an interest in knowing what the courts were like beyond the walls of her little apartment, but whilst she hadn’t exactly asked before, nobody had bothered to tell her, either. She might as well have been tipped out of the Cauldron yesterday for all she knew about this world. Feyre had tried to explain some things to her— but it had only been things like how her cycle would be every six months now, or how she could hear and see things better. When it came down to the dynamics of this world, the politics and governance of it, nobody had ever bothered to fill Nesta in. 

“The seasonal courts don’t change,” he explained with another shrug. “Winter is always winter, Summer is always summer. I don’t think anybody really knows why, but the solar courts aren’t bound in the same way. We don’t have constant darkness in Night, and Dawn isn’t constantly stuck at sunrise. Day and Dawn might have warmer winters than us, but largely, they’re the same.” 

“Oh,” she said, furrowing her brow. She looked up at the sky, so clear it could have almost passed for summer had it not been for the temperature. Still, though, it didn’t feel like winter. It felt like a mild spring day. There was a chill in the air, but it wasn’t biting like it had been back in Velaris. There was no snow, and the flowers that bloomed were out of season. Strange, she thought. This world was all so… strange. Only days ago she had been bundled in her thickest coat, dodging patches of ice on the pavement outside her apartment. It was as if even the cold didn’t want to ruin the beauty of this place— of these gardens, especially, by touching them with its frost.

“Come,” Cassian said gently. “Let’s get you inside.” One of his wings spread out behind her, shepherding her towards a covered marble walkway, lined on either side by pillars carved with gilded suns. “I hope you’re ready for Helion’s grand entrance,” he added, looking ahead to a set of golden double doors, at least ten feet tall. They stood atop a small, wide, set of stairs, lined on either side with large urns overflowing with wildflowers. Grand, indeed.

She hadn’t known something as mundane as doors could be so beautiful. Each door was split into six meticulously carved panels that, Nesta presumed, depicted scenes from Prythian’s history. She was so unacquainted with this world that she couldn’t be sure, but there was a large golden sun spanning both doors, it’s rays extending downwards in carved shafts of burnished gold. Tiny figures held their arms up, extended towards it as if in benediction.  Cassian muttered something under his breath about how it was so typically ostentatious, and Nesta huffed a laugh.

“Jealous?” 

“Of what? Solid gold doors so heavy they need four people to open them?”

Nesta nodded. “I’m surprised Rhys hasn’t got something similar at the townhouse.”

Cassian snorted. “He’s probably worried Amren would steal them right off the hinges and leave him without a front door.”

Nesta let out a small laugh, and Cassian turned to her, his eyes shining with mirth. His hand darted out to take hers, and he pressed a kiss swiftly to the tips of her fingers before letting her hand drop again. She quirked a brow, as if to ask him why, but her gaze snagged on one particular part of those magnificent doors. Her laugh died in her throat as she saw the Cauldron beneath the golden sun, gleaming like it was something to be worshipped, something to be adored. It seemed to glow, as if it had been carved to catch the light no matter what time of day.

“What story is this?” she asked, keeping her eyes on the Cauldron that had broken her, at the reverence it was held in by everyone else in this land. 

“How the world was created,” Cassian said, pointing to the Cauldron, to the golden hand overturning it, a woman with long, golden hair, giving life to smaller figures. “How all life stems from the Cauldron.”

She swallowed. The Cauldron hadn’t given her life— it had taken it. Taken it and crushed it, and yet here— the people she was expected to live alongside for the rest of her impossibly long life treated the thing that had broken her as if it were a gift. As if she should be thankful. 

Cassian’s wings twitched, the one closest to her extending out behind her back, almost as if he wanted to shield her. He looked down at her, concern in his hazel eyes. He forced a smile onto his face and blinked at those doors in disinterest. “For what it’s worth, I always thought these were bloody awful.” He took in the details and frowned. “What’s wrong with a normal front door?”

“They’re beautiful,” Nesta countered flatly. She couldn’t deny it. The craftsmanship was something to behold, the attention to detail astonishing. “I’d just rather they told a different story.”

“How about I carve you your own set of golden doors for your apartment?” he asked lightly, nudging her with his shoulder. “Depicting the plot of your favourite smutty novel.”

She snorted, and gave him a small smile. It was an effort, but he seemed to relax at the way her lips curved upwards. His wings tucked back in, and Nesta breathed in deeply, ignoring the way the Cauldron winked at her in the evening sunlight, taunting her. Mocking her.

“I’d sooner have that than this,” she muttered darkly.

He hummed in agreement, but before he could say anything else, the doors groaned.

“Told you he’d have a grand entrance,” Cassian whispered conspiratorially as those doors were pulled back - like he’d said - by four fully grown men.

The High Lord of the Day Court was revealed, standing dead in the centre of those doors, basking in the sunlight as it kissed his dark skin. He opened his arms wide as he stepped forward, his sandled feet silent on the marble. His white robes billowed in the soft breeze as he started down the steps towards them, and when he reached the bottom, he clapped his hands together with a jubilant a-ha!

He placed a finely-jewelled hand on Cassian’s shoulder, every one of his fingers sporting a golden ring. “I cannot tell you how pleased I was to receive your letter, Lord of Bloodshed.” He shot Cassian a smirk. “Although, I was put out when I realised you weren’t finally accepting my long-standing offer.”

Cassian snorted. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Helion sighed in exasperation, but there was a gleam in his eyes that said it was done in jest. “Next time, perhaps,” the High Lord said, dragging his eyes over Cassian’s broad chest. Nesta’s own eyes widened slightly in surprise, and when she cleared her throat, Helion turned his bright smile on her, as if seeing her for the first time.

The first time they had met, she’d been too concerned with the Cauldron and it’s machinations to really pay much attention to the gilded High Lord. He’d seemed intrigued by her lack of adoration for him, and now he bowed his head at her, turning up his charm to an almost unfathomable level, as if he were loath to let her be unimpressed a second time. He took her hand between both of his and kissed the back of her knuckles. His lips were warm and soft against her skin, but she found herself glancing, from the side of her eye, to Cassian beside her. He looked amused as Nesta raised an eyebrow. Helion’s grin only widened. “I cannot tell you what a pleasure it is to play host to one such as you, Lady Nesta.”

Lady Nesta. Nobody had called her Lady Nesta for a long time. Not since before the war, since before she had been pushed into the Cauldron. She slid her hand from the lord’s grip and bowed her head just slightly.

 “Thank you,” she said evenly. “For letting us stay.”

He waved a hand. “It is a pleasure.” He glanced at Cassian and smirked again. “Your manners are certainly better than his, anyway.”

Nesta let a small smile play on her face as Cassian scowled in mock outrage, and Helion let out a deep laugh that echoed on the marble. 

“Come,” he said, turning on his heel and ascending the stairs, beckoning for them to follow. “I will show you your rooms. You have missed dinner, I’m afraid.” Smoothly, he led them inside, and Nesta admired the palace interior. It was cool, with white gauze curtains covering the many windows lining the hallways, and candles burning softly in alcoves every few feet. 

Helion led them down a wide hallway, lined entirely on one side with crystal clear mirrors, reflecting the grounds outside. There were fountains and clipped lawns, and Nesta even thought she caught sight of a maze. It was elegant and beautiful and graceful— everything she had expected to find in the palace of such a regal lord. He had continued speaking, but Nesta had been too caught up in admiring the gardens reflected in those expansive mirrors to notice. “—I will have the kitchens send something up to your suite,” he was saying, his steps never faltering or slowing. “And I hope you will join us in the ballroom afterwards.”

“Ballroom?” Nesta asked, her attention catching on that one, beautiful, exquisite word. Ballroom. 

Helion looked over his shoulder at her in bemusement, as if he’d noticed that she hadn’t really been listening until now.

“Yes, ballroom,” he repeated. “I am hosting a small gathering this evening. To honour your arrival, of course,” he winked. “I know Rhysand keeps his court rather…small,” he said with a glance at Cassian. He only rolled his eyes. “Mine is larger. We have several emissaries and ambassadors in residence at any given time, and a host of courtiers that reside here permanently. They must be entertained, must they not?”

Nesta blinked. “And you entertain them with… dancing?”

There was a wicked gleam in the lord’s eye as he said, in a voice that was thick and mischievous, “Amongst other things.”

Cassian, completely disregarding that the man was a High Lord, slapped Helion on the arm with the back of his hand. Helion let out another laugh as he slowed, stopping before a pair of white doors with a curved golden handle. 

“There will be music and wine in the ballroom all evening,” he said. “I would be honoured if you would join us.”

He turned and pushed the doors open, letting them pass before him, stepping into a sprawling suite of rooms. Two bedrooms, Nesta noted.

“There’s really dancing?” she asked. Helion leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms.

“That is generally what one does in a ballroom, is it not?”

Nesta didn’t answer, only blinked flatly. The High Lord smirked and Cassian muttered something that sounded like a prayer to the Mother— but Nesta didn’t have it in her to care. Dancing. She hadn’t danced properly since before the Cauldron. Since before they had lost all of their money, really, and oh, she had missed it. It might not be the same dances she had known as a human, and the music would be different but— Nesta longed to lose herself in the sway, to find the parts of her that had been missing for so long in the beat of a drum, the hum of a harp. Dancing had been one of the few things she had really, truly enjoyed when she had been human. The only thing that ever really made her feel alive. She wondered if it would feel that way now. If when she moved across a fae dancefloor, she would be filled with the same warmth, or whether that had been stolen from her inside the Cauldron too. 

“Do you like to dance?” Helion asked. 

“I always loved it,” Nesta admitted as Cassian dropped the bag that he had carried all the way here onto one of two plush sofas. He looked up at her briefly. He hadn’t known, she guessed. There were so many things he had yet to learn about her, and so many things she had yet to uncover about him, too. He looked at her strangely, as if he was seeing her in a new light. A small thrill went through her at that, and some reckless, stupid part of her couldn’t wait to surprise him again.

Helion clapped his hands together triumphantly. “It is settled then.” He turned for the door, but paused as his fingers curled around the door handle. “But I would ask one thing of you, Lady Nesta.”

“Oh?” she asked, arching one eyebrow. The High Lord grinned back at her.

“I would have your first dance.”

***

When Helion said he’d be hosting a ‘small gathering’ in honour of his new guests, Cassian hadn’t expected anything like this. Foolish, really, to expect anything even remotely restrained from a High Lord so extravagant.  

There was nothing small about any of this. From the forty or so courtiers dancing and drinking and lingering in corners, to the five chandeliers suspended from the frescoed ceiling— nothing was small, nothing was quiet, and nothing was anything but ridiculously opulent. 

The floors were pearlescent marble, shot through with veins of gold that seemed to glow in the light of the hundred candles illuminating the ballroom. Elegant. It was so elegant Cassian almost felt out of place. He wasn’t a courtier, he was a warrior, far more used to mud and snow than marble and gold. He flicked his gaze down to the cuffs of his sleeve - one Nesta had insisted he wear after he tried to turn up in his leathers - and thanked the Mother that he’d taken her advice.

She was as at home here as he was in a war camp. He hadn’t known she liked to dance, and he cursed himself for not knowing because if he had… he’d have taken her dancing in Velaris months ago. He should have asked, he thought as he plucked up a glass of sparkling wine. He made a mental note to start figuring it - start figuring her - out piece by piece. What her favourite colour was. Her favourite food. Her favourite season, favourite book. This entire trip, he vowed, wasn’t just about letting Nesta fall in love with herself, with this land. No, now it was dedicated to learning all the small details that made Nesta Nesta. 

The sky was darkening, fading from a deep pink to a violet that could almost rival the sky above the Night Court. Helion’s territory might be famous for it’s midday heat and clear skies, but it was one of the terrestrial courts all the same, and the skies in each were always something to behold. Cassian wanted to take Nesta outside and point out constellations in the gardens but—

She was dancing. She’d barely been by his side all evening, not after she’d had a glass of wine and Helion had led her to the dance floor. He’d stopped dancing with her an hour ago, but she’d yet to stop. She hadn’t even paused. It was like Cassian was finally starting to see who she’d been before, the woman she’d been below the wall. This was what she was built for, trained for, as certainly as Cassian had been trained for bloodshed.

Nesta was swept smoothly into the arms of another, a dark-skinned man so tall he was almost the same size as Cassian. Handsome too, he noted with a pang of jealousy. It speared through him like ice, when he saw the fae that held her in his arms lean down, his lips close to her ear. It was ridiculous, how he couldn’t bear to see her so close to another. How he wanted those lips at her ear to be his, the hands at her waist to be his, too.

The Day Court fae spun her in a circle, and as Cassian caught a glimpse of her face, any jealousy he had dissipated, like mist on the wind. He had never seen her look this way, as if she’d found some peace at last. They had been away from Velaris for just a handful of hours, and yet Cassian couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever seen Nesta look like this. Like she was finally tasting freedom, and savouring it.

And she hadn’t exchanged a single word with the man who held her, even though he’d tried to start a conversation several times since she’d been spun into his arms. She’d not spoken to any of them in fact, apart from Helion, and Cassian suspected that was only because he was a High Lord and their host for the next two days. Nesta had danced with a number of men since Helion, all of them handsome and charming, but she hadn’t even seemed to hear them. The music - smooth, and lovely, and soft - had taken over her, and she was in a trance so beautiful that Cassian couldn’t tear his eyes away. He was in a trance just watching her, the curve of her neck and the sweep of her arms. The way her eyes glittered in the candlelight, and how her fingertips rested so lightly on the shoulders of whichever man had the privilege of dancing with her.

She was so enchanting he hardly even noticed when Helion sidled up beside him. Cassian clutched his gold-stemmed wine glass in his hand and swallowed. 

“I have known you a long time, Lord of Bloodshed,” Helion drawled from Cassian’s side. “But never have I seen you so rattled.”

Cassian dragged his eyes away from the dance floor and tilted his head at the elegant High Lord. “Rattled?” he repeated, raising his eyebrows. 

Helion hummed. “Rattled,” he repeated with a nod. When Cassian said nothing, Helion nodded towards Nesta, where she’d been swept away by yet another Day courtier. Still, she said nothing to her dance partner, and Cassian noted with some kind of satisfaction that the man who she had originally been dancing with was now scowling. 

“She’s really quite something, isn’t she?” Helion remarked.

“Isn’t she,” Cassian breathed, unable to take his eyes from the way she moved, slipping across the marble floor like it was second nature.

Everything else in the room was insignificant. He’d been to the Day Court before but never this part of the palace, and he hadn’t even really noticed the mirrors lining the walls, the gilded details on absolutely everything. The way it dripped with wealth and extravagance and finery. He didn’t notice any of that, because he was too caught up in how Nesta’s hair had started to come loose from the braid at the nape of her neck, and how all he wanted to do was plunge his hands into those braids, to hold her closer to him than any of those men had held her. As she placed her hand delicately into the waiting palm of yet another partner, Cassian longed to be the one touching her. He knew the curve of her waist would fit the contours of his palm better than it would fit any other, as if she had been made for him, and he for her.

“As I said,” Helion said with a soft laugh, as if he could hear Cassian’s very thoughts. “Rattled.”

“I am not rattled,” Cassian insisted. He knew that he should look at the High Lord when he spoke to him, out of respect and deference, and yet… how could he look away from her? She was magnificent, so devastating that it was leaving him breathless. Mother above, she was perfect.

Helion snorted and lifted Cassian’s glass to his lips with a forefinger. “Drink, general. You’ll need it if you’re going to continue lying to yourself.”

“I am not rattled,” Cassian said again. “Just… distracted,” he offered instead, giving the High Lord a sly smile. Helion snorted again.

“Indeed,” he said with a smirk. He paused. “I was surprised,” he continued idly, but when Cassian glanced sideways, he caught the wicked glint in the High Lord’s eyes. “When I read your letter.”

Cassian blinked. He had indeed written a letter and asked Azriel to deliver it via his shadows but— “What about it was surprising?”

He hadn’t exactly been opaque about it. He’d told Helion - and Kallias and Thesan too - that he’d be visiting for a few days, on entirely unofficial, non-Night Court related, business. For very obvious reasons he hadn’t written to Tarquin, Beron or Tamlin, planning instead to sneak over their borders. Helion though— Cassian didn’t know what he had to be confused about. The lord smirked again.

“Well, you asked for two separate rooms.”

Cassian’s shoulders stiffened a fraction. “Why should that be surprising?”

“Even a blind man can see you are infatuated with her.”

Rather than deny it, Cassian shrugged. “I hardly think that matters.”

“You’re not together then?”

“No,” Cassian said, drinking from his glass again. He said no more than that. Didn’t know what to say, really. That he was pretty sure he’d loved Nesta from the first moment he’d met her, even when she was still human? That he was also fairly certain that she was his mate, and though that made him want to sink to his knees and weep with joy, he couldn’t tell her yet, because she abhorred this world, and what it had turned her into? How could he begin to tell Helion that every night Cassian dreamed of her? How much he wanted her, and how much he couldn’t have her— not yet. Not whilst she still saw this world, this land, as something to despise. 

He cleared his throat when the High Lord raised an eyebrow, clearly dissatisfied with Cassian’s short answer. “There’s a lot riding on this trip,” he elaborated with a shrug. 

And there was, wasn’t there? Not just for himself, but for Nesta too. He wanted this trip to heal them both, for them both to return home with fewer wounds than before. More than anything, he wanted her to see this land the way he did. 

She’d already fought to protect it, had almost given her life to end the war that would have ruined this continent. Didn’t she deserve to know what she’d been fighting for? 

“I want Nesta to see all of this land, and understand it. She should be familiar with the place she’ll call home for the rest of her life, shouldn’t she?”

“Naturally,” Helion agreed. “But I think it’s more than that.”

“Of course you do,” Cassian muttered. Helion grinned.

“You want her to love this land as you do. Love being fae as you do.”

“Is that so terrible?”

“Not at all.” Helion waved his hand. “But I think you want her to love this land, to love being fae, before she admits to any love for you. Before you admit that you love her already.”

Cassian was silent, but there was nothing else to say, anyway. Was he really that obvious?

“How long?” Helion asked. “How long have you been so desperately in love with her?”

“I—“ Cassian began, about to deny it... But it was useless. It was clear as, well, as clear as Day that he was head over heels for her, and had been for a very, very long time. He cleared his throat and found her again in the crowd. “A while,” he said, in a voice so low it was almost a whisper. Since I awoke after she’d been thrown in the Cauldron and my first thought was of this. Of how one day I’d show her all seven courts, and how I wanted to spend the rest of my life - however long it may be - devoted to her, making her happy.

Helion hummed. “You’re going to be twenty minutes late for dinner tomorrow.”

“Excuse me?”

“Trust me. You want Nesta to see that being fae isn’t so bad? Tomorrow you will take her into the city and show her the best of our bookshops and our cafes. And afterwards, before dinner, I will show her my libraries. You said she likes to read?” Cassian nodded and Helion hummed once more. “Libraries are magnificent things General, especially one as grand as mine.”

“Always so modest,” Cassian muttered. Helion’s answering grin was dazzling.

“Leave it to me, Prince of Bastards.” There was a twinkle in his eyes as Helion looked over to Nesta himself. “I’m going to help you.”

“I think I can do perfectly fine on my own,” Cassian said, but he was intrigued by the offer. Helion was, what? A matchmaker, now? The perennial bachelor turned hopeless romantic?

Helion snorted again. “I don’t doubt that you’ve ever had an issue getting a woman into your bed, General, but what about beyond that? What about getting her to stay when the sun comes up?” 

Cassian shrugged. “I’ve never wanted them to stay beyond that.” 

“Exactly,” Helion said, tipping his glass forwards, to where Nesta was still dancing under golden lights. “And that woman in particular isn’t going to fall into your bed like the rest of them.” 

“I wouldn’t want her to.” 

“So you don’t want her in your bed?”

“That’s not what I said.” 

Helion grinned. “Twenty minutes, tomorrow. The three of us will have dinner afterwards.”

“If this is another attempt at getting me into your bed—“

“Why? Would you like it to be?”

Cassian groaned, and drained the rest of his glass. Within seconds, an attendant with gold-dusted skin was at his side offering him a fresh one. He took it without a second thought. “No,” he said firmly. “But you can speak to Nesta.” He found her again, and felt his heart stutter in his chest. 

As though Helion heard it, he smirked.

“I expect an honorary mention in the speech at your wedding, General.”

Cassian felt his lips tug upwards into a smile, and he shook his head at the High Lord’s presumption, even as his heart skipped a beat. 

“One step at a time, perhaps?”

Helion scoffed. “Why? It is obvious to all of us that that is where you two will end up.”

Cassian shook his head. 

“She doesn’t— Nesta is going through a lot right now. I don’t want to rush her. There are certain things… Certain things she may not even want,” he said. Like a mating bond.

“Trust me, General. I know what it is to long for what you cannot have.” Helion looked wistful as he looked over at Nesta again. “I know what a doomed affair looks like from the start, and trust me when I say that yours is not.” He drank from his own glass, draining it in one. He turned to face Cassian head on, his stare relentless and determined, and, Cassian wasn’t afraid to admit, more than a little bit intimidating. “I cannot have the woman who fills my dreams, but yours is not lost to you. She’s right there, Lord of Bloodshed.” He nodded at the dance floor, and with the flat of his palm against Cassian’s shoulder, pushed him forwards. “Go and get her.”

Cassian stumbled a single step, but Helion was already taking his glass from his fingers and handing it to a nearby attendant. Cassian raised an eyebrow, but then Nesta was there, dancing so closely to him, in the arms of another, that he couldn’t do anything but cut in.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, half expecting Nesta to ignore him the way she had every single dance partner she’d had that evening. And she did, in a way. Without a word, she pulled away from the dark-skinned fae wrapped in a tunic of deep forest green, and placed her hand in Cassian’s palm. He pulled her towards him, relishing the feel of her skin against his, of the flat of her palm resting against his shoulder.

“Hi,” he said after a moment. Nesta glanced up at him with those eyes like molten silver, and smiled. 

His heart stopped in his chest as she blinked slowly, contentedly, and said, “Hi.”

The world fell away when she was in his arms. He didn’t see anyone else on the dance floor, didn’t notice when they started to retire for the night. He barely even noticed when the band stopped playing, and not a soul bothered to interrupt them. He only held her in his arms, letting her lead because he’d stopped following the steps ages ago. In the silence, they slowed to a stop, but still, he kept his arms around her. She kept her fingers wrapped around his palm, and kept her hand over his heart. His chest was rising far too quickly, and it wasn’t at all because of the dancing.

“Well aren’t you two a pretty pair,” Helion crooned from a chaise longe at the edge of the room. He had a few of his favourite courtiers lingering around him, both male and female, but the rest had disappeared. The room was almost empty. Nesta looked about her in surprise, as if she’d suddenly remembered where they were. Helion smirked as he unfolded himself from the chaise and took the hand of one of the fae beside him. “We’re going to bed,” he said, raising an eyebrow suggestively. “I don’t think I could convince either of you to join us, so I will say my goodnights. Feel free to stay as long as you like.”

Cassian nodded, and he just about managed to say a good night and a thank you, before looking back down at the woman in his arms. Nesta echoed his sentiments, but as the High Lord and his retinue slipped away, neither of them moved.

“Is he—“ Nesta began in a whisper. “Is he taking all of them to bed?”

Cassian snorted. “Yes.”

“Huh,” Nesta said softly. Cassian lifted a hand from her waist to brush her cheek, his thumb grazing the edge of her lip. He could have sworn her eyelids fluttered.

“Are you tired?” he asked, his voice only a whisper. In the emptiness of the ballroom, it almost seemed to echo. Nesta shook her head.

“No,” she murmured. “I want—“ she paused, and then looked up to meet his eyes. “Dance with me.”

“You danced all night.”

“And I want one more.”

“There’s no music.”

“So?”

“So it’s rather difficult to dance without music, isn’t it?”

Nesta shook her head. “Not at all.” She tilted her head, as if she were challenging him. Her gaze was dauntless, making him weak at the knees as she raised one perfect eyebrow and said, “Unless you don’t want to.”

As if he’d ever turn down a reason to have her in his arms. 

“I’ll always want to dance with you, Nes,” he said, his voice husky and thick. He thought he saw the hint of a blush on her cheeks, and gods, she was beautiful.

“Good,” she breathed, wrapping both of her arms around his neck. “So dance with me.”

In the silence of Helion’s empty ballroom, Cassian did. He held her as tightly as he could, as if he were afraid this chance would never come again, and he found he didn’t need music. Nesta didn’t need music. She lead him in a slow, wistful dance, and he followed her, as he’d follow her anywhere.

In Velaris, her steps had been elegant, but always heavy, as if she were weighed down by her past. They hadn’t been away from the city for a full day yet, but already there was colour in Nesta’s cheeks, and she looked happier tonight than she had for weeks— months. 

“Are you happy?” Cassian breathed, leaning down to whisper the question in her ear. He didn’t know why it was important to him, why he felt like he needed to know. Deep down, he supposed, it was because from the moment he’d met her, all he’d ever wanted was to make her happy. 

She didn’t answer him for a while, and he started to think she’d not heard him, lost in the music only she could hear. But her fingers gripped his shoulders and tightened in his shirt, and she stopped them moving to rise onto her tiptoes and kiss his cheek.

“No,” she answered at last. His heart ached but she pulled away to look at him, her gaze softening. She rested a palm against his cheek, and, instinctively, he turned his face into it, kissing her palm as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Her hand was warm against his skin, her fingers curling against his cheekbone.

“No,” she said again, more definitely this time. “But for the first time since the Cauldron, I don’t think I’m entirely unhappy either.”

***

The Day Court was made for long, tranquil mornings, Nesta decided the next day. Night might be renowned for it’s night skies, and Dawn for its sunrises… but Day excelled at early morning peace. As the sun climbed higher in a cloudless sky, she let out a soft sight of contentment. There were birds singing somewhere, the only noise that broke the silence aside from the steady trickle of the nearest fountain. She revelled in it, wishing there was a way to gather up all of this peace and store it for later, for when she’d be back in Velaris where peace was hard to come by. She sat with her knees up on the cloister wall, her back against a marble pillar, turning the pages of the book that rested against her thighs. A gentle breeze kissed her skin, and Nesta could’t remember the last time she’d felt so… rested. 

As soon as they had left Velaris, she had felt something within her lighten, like a weight being physically lifted off of her shoulders, and after the dancing last night, and a decent night’s sleep… She hadn’t felt like this in months. Maybe it was the air in Day, Nesta mused. She didn’t have the words to describe it, but where the air in Velaris was fresh and cold, like clean snow, the air in Day was like a summer evening, warm and fragrant, carrying the scent of olives and roses.

Cassian had been different too, as though the Illyrian rebellion was suddenly less potent, less urgent. Less stressful.

Stupid. It was stupid, but she couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

When he’d been at her apartment helping her pack before they left, she’d been caught off guard then, too. Her entire bag had fit comfortably inside the larger duffel bag Cassian brought - so he only carried one bag whilst flying - and Nesta had wondered if it was some kind of fae magic that made it bigger on the inside. Cassian had only scoffed and said no, soldiers just know how to pack light and pack smart. He had criticised Nesta’s every move as she packed, rolling her dresses into small parcels after she’d folded them. They take up less space this way, and they won’t crease, he’d explained. She had scowled, and thrown a pair of shoes at him. He’d caught them, and stuffed a pair of thick, fluffy socks into the toes of each. The socks won’t take up any space of their own, and they’ll help the shoes keep their shape. Nesta hated that he was right. He’d only grinned at her and told her they don’t just teach you how to gut a man in the army, sweetheart, they teach you how to pack, too. Nesta had grumbled that learning how to gut a man was looking pretty appealing. Within a heartbeat, Cassian had pulled a blade from the belt at his waist and held it out to her hilt-first. He had raised an eyebrow and said, come on then, do your worst. Her blood had heated at that, and she’d had to throw another pair of shoes at him and dart into the bathroom to get her shampoo before she did something stupid like kiss him.

That was partly why she’d come outside to read this morning, because she knew she wouldn’t concentrate if she’d stayed in their rooms. She’d come to enjoy her book, but before she could turn another page, it was ripped unceremoniously from her hands.

“‘He took her upstairs, to his bedroom, where she knew exactly what kinds of pleasures awaited, the kinds that— Mother above, Nesta, even for you, this is filthy.”

Nesta reddened as she snatched the book back from Cassian’s hands. She glared as she twisted, putting her feet back down on the ground. “And here I was, having such a peaceful morning.”

Cassian leaned against the pillar she had just pulled away from, folding his arms and smirking down at her. His eyes flicked to the book in her lap. She had closed it with a snap, and he looked with bemusement at the cover. “I’ll leave you then,” he said with a shrug. “Just thought you might want to go down into the city, but since you’re busy…” He trailed off with a grin. “Helion recommended some bookshops, in case you wanted to read something other than—“ he plucked the book from her lap again with a snort. “— Fires of Passion.” 

Nesta snatched her book back and shoved him with the palm of her hand. He laughed, the sound echoing on the stone. It was light and carefree, the kind of laugh she hadn’t heard from him in days. 

He held out his hand as she hopped lightly off the wall she had been sitting on. “You slept late this morning,” she commented. He shrugged as he fell into step beside her, heading for the walkway lined with white-and-gold doors. Nesta had woken early, and when she had emerged into the shared sitting area, she had expected to find Cassian already awake. He was usually up with the dawn, so she was surprised when she’d cracked open his bedroom door and found him still sleeping. He needed it; whatever was happening in Illyria, it had been depriving him of sleep for far too long. She wasn’t about to wake him, not when he was sleeping so deeply she was certain it was his first good night’s sleep in weeks.

“Beauty sleep, sweetheart,” he said with a wink.

“Ah yes,” Nesta said archly. “You do need it.”

“Are you saying I’m not simply the most stunning man you’ve ever laid eyes on?”

Nesta raised an eyebrow. “Would you really like me to answer that question?”

He scoffed as he threw an arm around her shoulder. “Before you do, I’d like to remind you that we’ve already established you’re a terrible liar.”

“We established no such thing,” Nesta answered, a hundred protests rising to her lips— and a hundred insults, too.

Cassian cast them all aside with another wink and a devious grin. “Nesta,” he said with mock exasperation. “Do you want me to take you to these fabulous bookshops or not?”

She glared. “Yes.”

“Then admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“That I’m simply the most stunning man you’ve ever laid eyes on,” he said with a smirk. Nesta hit him in the arm.

“You’re the most irritating man I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“But the most irritatingly stunning,” he insisted. Nesta scowled and hit him again.

A booming laugh echoed from behind them, and when Nesta turned, she saw the High Lord of the Day court exiting a pair of golden doors, clapping his hands at the sight of them.

“Lady Nesta,” Helion said as he stepped towards them in golden-sandalled feet. He clasped her hands in his. “I do hope he isn’t being too beastly.”

“He’s always being beastly,” Nesta answered flatly, but her words held no venom, no bite. Cassian put his hand to his chest, as if she’d wounded him, but his eyes sparkled with mirth.

Helion clapped Cassian on the shoulder and shook his head. “I am in meetings all day today, but I hope the pair of you will join me for dinner later on the terrace.” He looked at Nesta conspiratorially and added, “He told me you liked books, so I gave him the names of a few of the very best shops in our city. Buy as many as you like and charge them to the palace.”

“I couldn’t possibly-“

Helion waved his hand. “I won’t have it be said that I am not a generous host.” He bowed his head, and then smirked. “Besides, after what you did for all of us during the war, my lady, I think a few books are the least I can do.”

“It won’t be a few,” Cassian muttered under his breath. Helion shrugged.

“As many as you wish, my lady.” He offered Nesta a shallow bow, and she couldn’t help the smile that came to her lips as Helion kissed her hand. Cassian rolled his eyes as the High Lord took his leave of them.

It was only when they were half way out of the palace, that Cassian threw his arm back around Nesta’s shoulders and said, “You do know it’s only because he wants to sleep with you, right?”

Nesta shrugged. “He wants to sleep with you too, but I don’t see him offering you books.”

Cassian paused, and then huffed in mock frustration. “You’re right,” he said. “I should definitely bring that up the next time he asks me to join him in his bed.”

Nesta patted him on the chest and laughed, surprised at how easily laughter and smiles came to her. “Mhm,” she hummed. “Maybe he just wants me more than you.”

“Need I refer you to our earlier conversation? About me being the most stunning man, et cetera, et cetera?”

“No,” Nesta said lightly, shrugging out from beneath his arm and taking three steps ahead of him. She cast a glance at him over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow imperiously. “But perhaps I’m simply the most stunning woman he’s ever seen.”

Cassian grinned at her. “I’ll grant you that, Nes,” he said with a nod. “I’ll definitely grant you that.”

***

By the time they returned to the palace, Nesta’s feet ached from wandering the city all day long. They had watched street performers in the narrow, cobbled streets. Acrobats, walking on their hands, and fire-wielders - who Nesta suspected must hail from Autumn - making patterns and dancing in their flames. There had been jugglers and musicians, playing instruments Nesta had never even seen before. It had been loud and lively, and when they had finished, she’d tossed three gold coins into an upturned cap they’d set on the ground to collect their tips. Cassian had shepherded her to three different bookshops, and she had not left any of them empty handed. Nesta decided that she liked the Day Court. It’s people were friendly, and bowed at either her or at Cassian when they passed, as if many of them recognised her - or remembered her - from the war. In Velaris, that was suffocating. Here, it was… humbling, almost.

Her feet sank gratefully into the plush carpet of their shared suite as Cassian lowered himself to the sofa with a groan, letting his head drop back against the cushions.

“I’m never going shopping with you again.”

Nesta snorted. “General of the Night Court armies, legendary in battle and unsurpassable in valour… Defeated by a bookshop.”

He raised his head and glared at her. His hair fell haphazardly over his eyes, and Nesta wanted to smile. “Defeated by you and a bookshop,” he clarified before letting his head fall back once more.

“Feyre’s right. You are a baby.”

“No,” he countered, throwing his arm over his eyes. “You’re just ceaseless.” He left his arm slung across the top half of his face, but his lips kicked up into a smile. “Besides, who would have guessed such a proper lady would have such scandalous reading material?”

Nesta reddened, and sent him a glare that she knew he would have laughed at if he could see her. Stupid fucking bat. She scowled as she turned on her heel, heading towards her bedroom.  “A proper lady needs to have some excitement in her life, I suppose, since the choice of men around here is so dire.”

“Dire?” Cassian scoffed, moving his arm and raising his head to look at her. He raised an eyebrow and folded his arms across his chest. “Why don’t you come closer and say that again?” His gaze turned menacing, eyes darkening. Nesta felt a rush go through her, her blood heating in her veins. 

“I don’t think I will,” she said, clutching one of her new books to her chest. “I need to get ready for dinner.”

He hummed, and Nesta fought the shiver that ran down her spine. “Of course,” he drawled. “Such a proper lady.”

“Brute,” she hissed. Cassian only smirked.

“That’s the thing though, isn’t it sweetheart?” he said softly, picking up one of her new books from the pile on the coffee table. He flicked through the pages. “These kinds of books always end with the prim and proper lady in bed with the brute. Don’t they?”

Nesta swallowed, clutching the one she held in her hands closer to her chest. He smirked, as if he didn’t need her to confirm it.

“You read a lot of these books, then?”

“Maybe I like them,” he said with a shrug. In one fluid movement he was on his feet, and Nesta was reminded that he was a trained warrior, built to kill, and suddenly, she was in his path, like a rabbit in a snare. His wings flared behind him - fucking peacock - as he took a step closer to her. And another, and another, until he stood mere inches away, and she could feel his warmth. “Or maybe I read them just to figure out what you like.”

She was rendered speechless. She huffed out a breath, and tried to find some response, something that would leave him blindsided instead of her. Cassian laughed softly, and reached out to trace the curve of her ear with his fingertips. “You should go and get ready, princess.” He smirked again. “Wouldn’t want you to be late.”

***

There was a knock at the door. 

Nesta frowned, and rose from where she’d been sitting on the sofa waiting for half an hour already. It opened a moment later, and Helion strode in. He had changed for dinner, wearing a white robe edged in purple. Almost every inch of him was bedecked in gold, even his hair, threaded with tiny golden beads. 

“How ravishing you look this evening, Nesta,” he said grandly, kissing the back of her hand. Nesta ignored the flattery and looked pointedly at the closed door of Cassian’s room.

“He’s late,” she said with a glare. Helion only smiled.

“Illyrians have no concept of time,” he said with a wave. “Come, since your companion is still preening how about I show you the library?”

Nesta scoffed at the idea of Cassian preening. The most she’d ever seen him do was brush his hair. Helion extended his arm, and Nesta glanced once at the closed door. The library sounded exactly like something she wanted to see, but there was a strange kind of guilt forming in her gut at the thought of abandoning Cassian, even if it was only for a few minutes before dinner. 

“Are you anywhere near ready, you ridiculous buffoon?” she demanded. She heard a laugh from inside, and a moment later the door cracked open. Cassian peeked his head around, his hair still wet. He was bare chested, a towel wrapped around his hips. Nesta tried not to look at the swirls of his tattoos or the muscles of his shoulders and chest. She blinked, tearing her gaze away and looking only at his eyes. He grinned apologetically.

“Not… exactly.”

Helion snorted and looped his arm through Nesta’s. “It’s settled then. Whilst the ridiculous buffoon gets dressed, I’ll show you the library.”

***

The library shone like burnished bronze. It was cavernous and echoing, topped by a domed ceiling punctuated with small windows. Dust floated in shafts of sunlight, streaming in through those impossibly high windows, settling on books that seemed older than the world itself. The air was filled with the scent of paper and leather and ink. It smelled… old, Nesta thought as she stepped through the golden doors. Not old in a bad way. No, Nesta breathed in that scent and let it wash over her, filling her lungs with it as if this was what living was for.

It was old in the sense that it made her think of ancient stone walls and crumbling castles. Made her think of clear air and forgotten places. Moss and earth, and the whisper of pages turning. It felt hallowed, somehow.

The windows high above meant the floor of the library was dim, the sun’s rays never reaching the books on the shelves. These spines would never fade in the sunlight, never be damaged by the heat. They were protected and treasured, kept safe inside these gilded marble walls. 

“As a court we are known for a dedication to intelligence and ingenuity. Knowledge and education is prized here above all,” Helion said as he led her away from the doors. A wide walkway cut through the stacks, leading to a round desk directly underneath the domed ceiling. On either side, the stacks extended into darkness. “Some of them are sensitive to sunlight because of their age. We keep them mostly in the dark to protect them for future scholars.”

Nesta nodded. It would be the greatest crime in the world for anything to happen to any of these books. She found herself looking down row after row after row of leather-bound tomes. She breathed in again, letting her eyes drift closed this time. It smelled like petrichor and musk, and she wished she could bottle it. She hadn’t said a word since Helion opened those grand double doors, and he nudged her with his shoulder. 

“Well? Does it meet your expectations?”

“Yes,” Nesta breathed. Her footsteps slowed as they approached a small table that had been abandoned by - presumably - a scholar the moment he had caught sight of the High Lord. “We had a small library at home,” Nesta began. “My father stocked it with merchant histories and geographical texts. They were decoration, mostly. It always broke my heart that they were never appreciated properly, that most of them were unread, sitting in a modest family library when they should have been somewhere…” she breathed deeply and looked up at the ceiling. “Somewhere like this.”

She had dreamed of having her own library one day. When she had dreamed of her prince, she had imagined the library they would build in their grand new home, one so breathtaking that it would put her father’s to shame. She wanted to have shelves and shelves filled with the books her mother had forbidden her from reading. Instead, she had two shelves in her apartment that Cassian had built. It was a poor, pale imitation of the dreams she’d once harboured… but she thought of his hands, strong and powerful as he cut the wood to size. She thought of how he’d been on his knees for hours putting them together for her. She wondered whether her imaginary prince would have ever done the same. 

Helion turned the page of the book the scholar had abandoned. It rested on black cushioned cradle, thin rope-like weights draped over the pages to keep them flat. He traced a pattern over the vellum, and Nesta, without thinking, reached out to copy him. It was so smooth beneath her fingers, so soft. The writing was unintelligible to her, but it was sloping and beautiful, and the first letter on each page was larger than all the rest, ostentatiously decorated. The page that was open began with a “T”, coloured in gold, with vines and flowers winding around its base. Nesta leaned closer, and saw it wasn’t gold ink, but real gold flakes. She wondered who the scribe had been, how long it had taken to craft something so beautiful. These pages were a tale of devotion, of beauty. Of dedication to an ideal bigger than one person, more valuable than one life alone. It stole her breath, when she thought about the fae that had put so much of themselves into this work, and for the first time, she felt a glimmer of admiration for their kind. 

“How old is this?” Nesta asked. Helion tilted his head and studied the manuscript, eyes roving the pages as if he were a master scholar himself. 

“Judging by the calligraphy and the style of illumination alone, I would say this one is at least seven hundred years old. I could find the archivist if you’d like to know the specific age.”

“No,” Nesta shook her head, reaching out her finger again. “That’s not necessary.” She traced the gold again. “It’s alright to touch them?”

“Perfectly fine, so long as you’re careful. These books were made to last, Lady.”

“What does it say?” she asked. “The writing. I can’t read it.”

“No,” Helion nodded. “It is a skill one has to learn, deciphering such old hands. It is in a language you would understand, though— see, this word here,” he tapped the page lightly with the tip of his finger. “How would you read that?”

Nesta frowned, and squinted her eyes. She leaned closer to the page, and tilted her head this way and that, trying to decipher the scrawl. The spelling was different but it looked like— “Ring?”

Helion let out a small breath of a laugh. “Close. It’s ‘kynge’. The ‘k’ has an extra flourish that only makes it look like an ‘r’.”

“Oh,” Nesta said, looking closer at the word on the page. She felt like a child, seeing something for the first time. The flicker of curiosity she’d felt when they first landed in the Day Court wasn’t a flicker any longer— it was a fully fledged flame.

“I will admit though, Lady, I didn’t expect you to be so close. It is difficult to learn, but you seem to have some natural talent for it.”

“You wanted to show off,” Nesta said archly and Helion smirked.

“That too,” he shrugged. “What man would not wish to impress a beautiful woman?”

Nesta snorted and pulled herself away from the desk, away from the priceless manuscript. She took a step towards the nearest stacks, and looked behind her, waiting for the High Lord’s permission. It was his library, after all. He nodded, and leaned on the edge of the manuscript desk.

Tiny fae-lights illuminated the shelves, and it was dizzying, the number of books and manuscripts. All things she’d not read, not touched, things she had yet to discover. It was beautiful, stunning, possibility. It stole her breath, sang to her, like she was always meant to be here, always meant to see it with her own eyes.

She dragged her finger along the shelf at her side, studying the spines. These didn’t look nearly as old as the manuscript on the desk, and many of them had were stamped with gilt lettering. Not titles, but numbers, a way for the scholars and archivists to recognise them. She reached out to touch the spine of one nearest to her. Bound in burgundy leather, it looked relatively new, the golden numbers on its spine still shiny.

“Ah,” Helion said as he approached on cat-soft feet. “This one is much younger.”

“How old?”

“About a hundred years or so, give or take.”

“A relative baby, then,” Nesta said flatly. Helion grinned. 

“You like to read, Lady?”

Nesta tore her gaze from the burgundy-leather spine and offered the high lord an imperious smile, the kind that would have set Cassian roaring with laughter if he’d been there. “What do you think?”

Helion barked a laugh and slid that burgundy tome off the shelf. He dusted off the top and handed it over to her. She took it and traced a finger over the corners of the cover.

Suddenly her heart felt heavy, and when she looked up at the High Lord, at his dark eyes looking down at her with such… kindness, she felt the gravity of it all overwhelm her. She hadn’t truly grasped it before, how much she had been restrained by a mortal lifespan. Never truly realised how limited she had been. What she would be missing, living a life of only decades compared to the centuries that stretched before her now.

She looked up at the ceiling again, at the shelves that towered over her. “All my life I always thought it was such a shame. That I’d never be able to read all the books ever written.” She turned and looked at the books running for what seemed like miles in the other direction. “Even then I didn’t really know what I would be missing. Didn’t realise just how much there would be left for me to discover.” She smiled somewhat sadly down at the book in her hands. “I always regretted that I would die before I had a chance to read them all.”

Helion nodded sagely by her side, clasping his hands behind his back. The gold of his armband gleamed with the movement. “I believe that everything happens for a reason, Lady Nesta.” He tilted his head, and studied her. “It is terrible, what happened to you, and it is a good thing that the man responsible is dead. But—“ he paused, tilted his head in the opposite direction. “You have time to read all of these books twice over now,” he said gently, removing one arm from behind his back and gesturing at the library around them. “Does that not make you even slightly glad?”

Nesta shifted the weight of the book in her hands from one palm to the other. Her life seemed so impossibly long now, so unbearably long. She looked in the direction of the desk and the seven-hundred year old manuscript. In seven hundred years, would she still be here? When everything else had turned to dust, would Nesta still be living, breathing in the ashes?

Seven hundred years was nothing to these creatures. Cassian was only two centuries younger than that manuscript on the table. That had been written in a hand Nesta couldn’t decipher, in words she could barely understand even though she spoke the language. How much would she change, over the centuries? Would she even recognise herself, the girl she’d once been? Or would the Nesta Archeron from below the wall slowly fade and crumble, forgotten and replaced, overwritten by whoever she was now— her own soul a palimpsest, constantly rewritten as the centuries dragged on. 

She swallowed, and Helion took a step closer. She took a deep breath and faced him at last, remembering the question he had asked.

“It is… perhaps the only good thing to come of this.”

He nodded. “Silver linings,” he said with a shrug. “We must all find them.” He curled her fingers around the edges of the book she held, the gesture so soft and so kind that Nesta held her breath. Gone was the flirting, the rakish banter. Helion nodded at her. “It is a long life, Nesta Archeron. We must all find something that brings us joy.”

“Did you?” Nesta asked. “Find what brings you joy.”

A sad sort of smile graced his handsome face. “I did.”

He didn’t need to say that he’d lost it too, whatever it was. His eyes said enough, and Nesta let him rest his hand atop her fingers for a moment longer.

“I wonder though,” Helion asked with a small smirk. Just like that, the rake was back, mischief shining in his eyes. “If it really is the only good thing.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Nesta said blandly. Helion gave her a devilish smirk.

“A certain general is enamoured with you,” he said simply. Nesta swallowed, but before she could answer, the lord continued. “He looks at you like you put the stars in the sky.”

Nesta only blinked, unsure of what to say. Cassian was… well, he was Cassian. The one who hadn’t left her, the one who hadn’t once made her feel like her grief was an inconvenience. The one whose touch grounded her when she felt like she was drifting. “Perhaps it is one of two good things,” she said quietly. She looked up at the ceiling, as if she could see to the floors above. To their suite, to where Cassian was likely still getting ready for dinner. Stupid bat.

Helion hummed in agreement. “I’ve been inviting him into my bed for centuries and not once has he relented. I think he has been waiting a long time to meet someone like you.”

Nesta let out a laugh. “Jealous?” she asked, if only to lighten the topic, to ease the tightness of her chest.

Helion laughed, the sound echoing off the marble. “Naturally,” he said with a grin.

Nesta shook her head in bemusement, and looked back down at the book in her hands. After a moment, she held it back out to the High Lord. He shook his head.

“Keep it,” he said with a shrug. “To take the edge off what is no doubt a difficult transition.”

“I couldn’t,” Nesta protested.

“It is my library, I can give away what I please.”

“But it should—“

“Go somewhere it will be appreciated,” he interrupted. “Didn’t you say that’s what the problem was with your father’s library?” He arced a brow. “There are a hundred different versions of this particular text. No scholar will miss it, but I think it will be cherished on your bookshelves. Am I wrong?”

“No,” Nesta breathed as he slipped it back between her fingers. “Thank you.”

He waved off her thanks as if it were nothing, looping an arm through hers and leading her towards the door. He turned to her as they reached it. 

“You are welcome in my libraries whenever you wish, Nesta Archeron.” He held the door open. “But now, I think, it is time for dinner.”

***

“There you are,” Cassian said, leaning against the golden doors leading to a dining room on the terrace. “I was about to send out a search party,” he said, crossing the distance between them to kiss Nesta’s cheek. “I half thought he’d kidnapped you.”

“And risk a diplomatic crisis?” Helion scoffed. “I’m wounded that you think so little of me. Besides,” he winked, “I don’t have to kidnap women to get them to stay.”

Cassian snorted and Helion stepped forward, the golden doors being pulled open by two men on each side. The lord headed for a seat at the head of a long glass table, but he didn’t sit until Nesta and Cassian both reached their seats. Cassian pulled out a chair on Helion’s left, before rounding the table and taking the one on his right, sitting directly opposite her. He gave her a small, warm, smile as they sat.

“Why is it everywhere you go, you acquire new books?” Cassian asked with a pointed glance to the book Helion had given her. She had placed it on the seat beside her, but it was visible through the glass of the table.

“It’s a skill of mine,” she said dryly. Cassian snorted, and when an attendant approached to pour their wine, he waved him away. He poured it himself, Nesta’s first, then Helion’s, and finally his own. The High Lord looked on, bemused, as if he wasn’t at all offended that he came in second place to Nesta when it came to Cassian’s affections.

Helion cleared his throat. “I was surprised, General. It seems your high lord has been keeping quite the treasure hidden away in Night.” He inclined his glass towards Nesta, as if he were toasting her. Nesta wanted to laugh at the idea of Rhys treasuring her. If he’d been hiding her away, it certainly wasn’t because he placed any value in her at all. She was about to say as much, but thought better of it and only shrugged. Cassian winked at her.

“Can you blame us?”

His eyes never left her face as he said it, his gaze intense. Her breath hitched, and she didn’t think the lord at her side failed to notice. When she glanced at him, he looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. His eyes glimmered.

“If ever you want a job, Nesta Archeron, the Day Court would always make room for you.”

“What?” Nesta asked. Helion shrugged.

“If ever Night bores you…” he glanced at Cassian and winked. “Not that I’m expecting it to, mind you. But just in case… you would always find a place here.”

Nesta cleared her throat. It was… freedom, that’s what it was. A home being offered rather than forced on her. And she’d never take the offer— she liked the Day Court, but she couldn’t imagine living so far apart from the only people that had known her as a mortal. She couldn’t imagine living away from the man sitting across from her. But Helion was offering her a choice, nonetheless, and she’d had so many of her choices ripped away that this one made her breathless.

She spent the rest of the meal quiet, listening to the banter and the flirting between Helion and Cassian, answering questions when she was asked. The rest of the evening though, all she heard, over and over again, were the lord’s words. If ever you want a job, Nesta Archeron… 

***

The door to the suite closed with a hiss, but Nesta wasn’t tired enough to sleep.

The library had woken something in her, a curiosity she’d long since forgotten she’d possessed. Even after a full day spent in this court, she felt like she knew nothing. She was still a stranger in this land, even after all this time. She had always thought that the gap between who she had been before and who she was now was unbridgeable, but after tonight— after the library, especially… she was starting to wonder if the distance wasn’t as large as she’d thought. If, perhaps, she had misjudged the creatures above the wall.

“You’re quiet,” Cassian said. He strode to the small bar and poured himself a drink. He poured another and handed it to her. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Nesta said with a shrug.

“Is it what Helion said? About you— about being able to live here?”

He swallowed, and though his voice was even, she could see the worry in his eyes, the fear that she would take up the lord’s offer and move here tomorrow. She couldn’t deny that it warmed her, knowing he didn’t want her to go. She’d never really felt wanted anywhere before.

“Would you be mad if I left?” 

“No,” he said slowly. “You should have options. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be on my knees begging you to stay.” He huffed a small laugh. “How could I ever want you to leave?”

“Ask my sisters, they’re quite familiar with the feeling.”

“They’re wrong,” he said simply. 

“I wouldn’t,” Nesta said after a moment. “It’s nice here but I wouldn’t— I don’t think I’d like to live here.”

“I’m glad,” Cassian said, looking at her with such intensity Nesta wanted to turn away. “If you wanted to leave I wouldn’t stop you,” he added in a low, quiet voice. “You shouldn’t feel trapped in Velaris.”

“I have nowhere else to go.”

“I told you before, Nes. You’ll always have a place to go. I’ll make sure of it.”

Nesta swallowed, and only nodded, suddenly too tired for this conversation. She stepped forward and patted him on the forearm, before reaching onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“I know,” she said softly. 

***

Nesta woke to silence. She had fallen asleep faster than she’d expected, and for the first time in six weeks, there were no nightmares when she closed her eyes. It had eased something in her, the brief conversation they’d had before she had retired to bed. You shouldn’t feel trapped in Velaris. The realisation that Cassian, in no uncertain terms, wanted her to stay had lit a fire in her. She thought about going back to sleep, taking the opportunity of a calm, dreamless rest whilst she had it but… well, she didn’t want to be alone anymore.

She slid off the bed, bare feet swallowed by the carpet. She crossed to the window and looked out at the city illuminated by a bright, clear moon. As far as the eye could see - and with her new fae eyesight, that was pretty damn far - was rolling hills. She could see the edges of the city from this window, the flat roofs and white awnings of the houses and businesses clustered by the palace walls. They glittered with fae lights in the darkness, and she could hear bells and drums, as if the people here never slept.

She left the room on silent feet, and saw with no small amount of satisfaction that his bedroom door - directly opposite hers - was left ajar, as if he’d wanted her to know that whatever she wanted, whatever she needed, he’d give it to her. She poked her head around the door, and saw the glow of his siphons. Only her fae eyesight allowed her to see him on the bed, sleeping deeply. Something in her chest softened at the sight of him, at how he looked so much younger when he slept. Before she knew what she was doing, Nesta was stepping into the bedroom.

It hadn’t needed to be said that they’d have different rooms. Whatever was between them didn’t extend to sharing a bed, despite the fact that they had done so on more than one occasion since they’d first met. Again… Nesta knew Cassian was giving her space, but sharing space with him came so easily to her now, as if it were natural. She slipped into that bedroom and without thinking, sat on the bed beside him. She didn’t want to wake him. But she also wanted to be near him, like he had his own kind of gravitational pull, and she’d been caught in his orbit. 

She curled up on that bed beside him, content to let him sleep a little longer, and already she felt sleep trying to pull her back under too. Her eyes started to close as she felt the weight of an arm over her waist, pulling her backwards. Her back hit his chest, his arm tightening around her middle, holding her against him.

“Hi,” he breathed. 

“Hi,” Nesta mumbled, turning her face into the pillows on his bed. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

He hummed, as if he wasn’t awake, not truly. She bit back a small smile as she settled deeper into the mattress. “Sweet dreams, you overgrown bat.”

She felt him smile as he tucked his head into her neck. “Sweet dreams, you haughty witch.”

***

Sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains, bright and golden. Cassian raised his head from the pillow. His eyes were hooded, and Nesta bit back a smile. “Morning,” he said softly, his eyes closing as his head dropped back down.

“Are we leaving today?” Nesta asked. Cassian hummed sleepily, his arm still draped over her waist.

“Dawn,” he said. “We’ll go to Dawn today.” After a moment he opened his eyes, his hazel gaze boring down into hers. She didn’t pull away, and didn’t shift her gaze either. He seemed to soften, relaxing further into the pillows, the hand on her waist making lazy patterns on the fabric above her ribs. He hummed again, a soft, contented sound. “The further we get from home the lighter I feel.“

“Is it so terrible?” she asked. “Illyria.”

“Depends who you ask,” he said, a hint of bitterness creeping into his tone. “Azriel would say yes. Rhys would, too. But there are…” he trailed off. “I don’t think it’s incapable of change. It isn’t irredeemable.”

“Change comes slowly to the remote parts of the world,” Nesta commented idly, dragging her fingers idly over the back of his hand above her waist. Cassian snorted.

“One night in a library and this is the kind of philosophical bullshit you come out with?”

“I read it long ago in a book about the furthest reaches of the continent, actually,” Nesta huffed. 

“I wasn’t aware you could spout such wisdom,” he teased. “Please, do continue.”

“I hate you.”

“Liar.”

Nesta tried to turn her back to him, but he laughed and pinned her under the weight of the arm at her waist. She scowled, but made no further attempt to move.

“You’re right though,” he said a moment later, scanning her face. “Change does come slowly. But it’s not absent altogether.”

“Oh?”

“No,” he shook his head, his hair falling into his eyes. “There’s a shopkeeper in Illyria. She took over her father’s shop. That doesn’t—“ he paused. “That doesn’t happen. Women don’t inherit in Illyria, and they certainly don’t inherit businesses. She’s kept it open, kept it running, despite all the hostility she gets. She gives me hope, Nesta. Hope that Illyria can be better someday.”

“She sounds… fierce,” Nesta said. Cassian nodded, and Nesta felt her stomach tighten. He sounded… in awe of this woman. Amazed by her. And what right did Nesta have to be jealous? It wasn’t as if she’d staked any claim on him. Even after what had happened on that battlefield, they’d never really clarified what they meant to one another and so… Nesta didn’t have a right to be jealous.

She had a right to know though, didn’t she? So, somewhat dreading his answer, she asked, “Why are you telling me about her?” 

Cassian shrugged. “I think you’d get along well with her. You two are very similar.”

“Oh.” 

“You sound surprised.” 

“No. No, it’s just— I thought you might be telling me for a different reason.” 

“Like what?” 

“Nothing.” Nesta rolled over, putting her back to him. This time, he let her, but only for a moment. He frowned and pulled her back with his arm on her shoulder.

 “What? Nes, what is it?”

“Nothing, I told you. It’s nothing.”

 “Tell me.” 

“I thought you might be telling me that she— that you and she were—“ she expected him to laugh at her, but he only swallowed and brushed the hair back from her face. 

“Together? You thought I’d be trying to tell you that I’m seeing another woman, when I’m here with you?” He let out a soft laugh. “When I’m lying in bed with you?” 

Nesta said nothing, and he curled the fingers of one hand under her chin, tilting her face up to look at him. “There’s only one person for me, Nes.” He said softly. “I thought you knew that.”

Nesta didn’t say anything. He was looking at her far too intensely, far too meaningfully, and she didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t— wasn’t ready for that yet. For whatever it was between them to be labelled and acknowledged. She sat up briskly, the sheets pooling around her waist. Cassian’s hand drifted along her lower back, his fingertips grazing her skin through the thin fabric of her nightgown. 

“I should pack then, if we’re leaving soon.”

He hummed, but made no attempt to move. After a minute, Nesta looked down at him.

“You said we’d go to all seven courts.”

“Yes?”

“Will we go to Illyria?”

Cassian paused. “No.”

“Why?”

“I already have plans for Night, and they don’t involve Illyria.”

“Oh.”

“Why?”

“It would have been nice to meet her, this fierce shopkeeper.”

Cassian grinned. “How about you agree to a second trip with me, then? I’ll take you to Illyria another time.”

She was about to give him some biting retort, some witty insult, but suddenly couldn’t think of a reason why she would. Why she’d want to. Instead she only shrugged and said, “I’ll think about it.”

His answering grin left her feeling slightly dizzy, and for the first time she was excited. Excited to see what else waited for her.

#nessian #putting my history phd to good use #by putting Nesta in an archive

[pearlsoflongago]

Myths in the Morning

Tales of Long Ago

Apollo and Daphne by Francesco Albani

Daphne

Why do you follow me?— Any moment I can be Nothing but a laurel-tree.

Any moment of the chase I can leave you in my place A pink bough for your embrace.

Yet if over hill and hollow, Still it is your will to follow, I am off;—to heel, Apollo!

—Edna St. Vincent Millay

Pan by Giovanni Antonio Pellegrini

A Musical Instrument

What was he doing, the great god Pan, Down in the reeds by the river? Spreading ruin and scattering ban, Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat, And breaking the golden lilies afloat With the dragon-fly on the river.

He tore out a reed, the great god Pan, From the deep cool bed of the river: The limpid water turbidly ran, And the broken lilies a-dying lay, And the dragon-fly had fled away, Ere he brought it out of the river.

High on the shore sat the great god Pan While turbidly flowed the river; And hacked and hewed as a great god can, With his hard bleak steel at the patient reed, Till there was not a sign of the leaf indeed To prove it fresh from the river.

He cut it short, did the great god Pan, (How tall it stood in the river!) Then drew the pith, like the heart of a man, Steadily from the outside ring, And notched the poor dry empty thing In holes, as he sat by the river.

‘This is the way,’ laughed the great god Pan (Laughed while he sat by the river), 'The only way, since gods began To make sweet music, they could succeed.’ Then, dropping his mouth to a hole in the reed, He blew in power by the river.

Sweet, sweet, sweet, O Pan! Piercing sweet by the river! Blinding sweet, O great god Pan! The sun on the hill forgot to die, And the lilies revived, and the dragon-fly Came back to dream on the river. Yet half a beast is the great god Pan, To laugh as he sits by the river, Making a poet out of a man: The true gods sigh for the cost and pain,— For the reed which grows nevermore again As a reed with the reeds in the river.

—Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Orpheus Leading Eurydice from the Underworld by Jean-Baptiste Camille Corot

Orpheus With His Lute

Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing: To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung; as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing, die.

—William Shakespeare from Henry VIII

Le Soir: La Danse des Nymphes/Evening: the Dance of the Nymphs by J-B Camille Corot

#literature #poetry #dark academia #light academia #classic #inspiration #books & libraries #classic academia #mythology #greek mythology #greek gods #william shakespeare #elizabeth barrett browning #edna st vincent millay #jean baptiste camille corot

[kloudslog]

If I took him

"

If I had taken the chance

Then would he be back

Why do I miss him this much

He wasn't mine to grasp

Only knew him a month and

Yet I feel blank

Want to be asleep

Fight god and this plan

If only my parents could be honest, have said

We never want you back

Just go away

I want them to stop 

Lying to me

Running out of time

Wake up in the cold

My meds will run dry, then

What will that hold

Could barely keep thought

My focus is shot

I should have fucking

Adopted that dog

If i took him home,

Would things be well still

Why was this the breaking point

Of my will

He would have a bed

And he would be safe

He would see the snow- fuck-

He’d see all the states

We’d run on the beach

He would eat and eat

Id make it so 

The pain of the past would leave

He wouldn't be scared

He just needed time

Kept getting returned

Oh what a crime

Why does my heart burn?

This dog of a month, 

Never adopted to me

My parents decided I wasn’t worth the feed,

They called me a monster

Depressive fiend

They looked at my face and called all their faults

Tried to make it seem like it was all my fault

All my friends had bailed

My siblings had cried

They begged me to stay

Parents said i was a crime

what could I say?

And I was alone,

I was scared

I would snap at anyone who would come near and-

He was alone, 

And he was scared

And he would snap at us all out of fear

And I’m still alone

And I'm still scared

But I had stopped snapping at the people here

He wouldn’t stop snapping and people became scared

Would that have been me if I never cared?

I failed to save him but made sure to cry,

I knew it was wrong to not say goodbye

I watched him doze around, til he fell asleep

And he fell asleep right by my feet

And I said goodbye as he laid on that throne

Memories I had planned all burning in that stove

The doctors had quietly said “hes gone” 

And man what have I done

To the one thing I got?

I have no friends

My family forgot

I move to another state to restart

I cant call to Hel, but she keeps taking my mind

Keeps taking my focus

how I’m running out of time

I should have taken my best friend home

But I adopted his ashes and-

Home into my van

That the windows may leak

Looking at the one piece of him

That I can keep

I was to late

To take him with me

No snow on his feet

No simple life dream

My future was with him

And now its all gone

I shouldn't have planned it

On a shelter dog

A dog who would snap,

But clearly wanted love

He’d climb in my lap

Let me hold him and touch

he was given to another 

who swore to do such

She broke our trust 

brought him back without luck

It was his last chance,

I took to long to say

“Give him to me, he is my only way”

He’s all that I had

I had lost way to much

And now I had lost the one thing I could touch

The one guy that I knew 

my future would be with

And I had failed to save him 

They said I couldn''t take him 

I asked to adopt and they told me why

He had too many chances

But never could fight

The demons in his mind

That would cause him to bite

I failed him that night

Couldn’t save him alright

And now the one soul that I loved 

Had to die

If I took him

 

We’d play in the snow until dusk

Warm up by a fire

Give him tea to warm up

Given him all the toys and the best food I could buy

He’d get all the chances to chase birds

I would try

He’d have a throne next to me on my drives

He’d be able to sleep in his warm bed at night

I would read all my books that I had in supply

Read him so he’d know he was safe in the vans light

We’d go to the mountains, the sea, and to lakes

He’d fall asleep while the radio played

If ever the need id take him overseas

He was such a small dog I’d just fly him with me

The world is such a fucking scary place

He didn't need to be pushed away

He would have a home, full belly, a way

To escape all the horrors that he had faced

All he needed was a safe place

I would get a land in the future with ducks, with goats and with plants and it would just be us

He could chase the ducks

run around all day

My goal was to make him forget where he came

Just as he helped me forget the place I came

And yet

I had failed

To save my only 

"

{{ Recently I had to put down my dog, I wasn't able to adopt him as he was at the shelter I worked at. Originally he was adopted, and I was happy for him... but they returned him, having done the opposite of what we told her to do, and he bite her and her husband.

I should have taken him the moment he returned, but I hesitated, assumed he would still be here when my van conversion was done (I live in my van, and I'm still converting it).

three days off his bite hold, we learned he was to be euthanized.

and it became to late to adopt him, I tried but... I wasn't allowed to anymore.

I couldn't save him.

I have been dealing with this feeling since, its only been a week but mixing it with my current burnout and such... He was all I had, and planned my future on.

Wrote this, its not the best but it made me feel a little better. }}

#lost pet #shelter pets #i failed #poem

[thewrathfulwitch]

Kharisteria

Today we celebrate Artemis Agrotera and her first hunt after leaving her native homeland of Delos. Blessed Goddess of the Hunt, may you always strike true. Gather today with your family and make sure to take extra care to eat a meal together, whether it be lunch or dinner.

Today we also celebrate Ares and the Battle of the Marathon. Each year, the Athenians sacrificed 500 goats to Artemis for winning the Battle of Marathon, instead of the promised one for every Persian (this would have depleted the herds drastically). Striking God of War, we ask that you continue to protect the troops in the world and that you honor their service to their country. You can honor this portion by reading about the Battle of Marathon before your prayers.

Fumigation from Manna. Hear me, Zeus' daughter, celebrated queen,

Bacchian [Bromia] and Titan, of a noble mien:

In darts rejoicing and on all to shine,

torch-bearing Goddess, Dictynna divine;

O'er births presiding, and thyself a maid,

to labour-pangs imparting ready aid:

Dissolver of the zone and wrinkl'd care,

fierce huntress, glorying in the Sylvan war:

Swift in the course, in dreadful arrows skill'd,

wandering by night, rejoicing in the field:

Of manly form, erect, of bounteous mind,

illustrious dæmon, nurse of human kind:

Immortal, earthly, bane of monsters fell,

'tis thine; blest maid, on woody hills to dwell:

Foe of the stag, whom woods and dogs delight,

in endless youth who flourish fair and bright.

O, universal queen, august, divine,

a various form, Cydonian pow'r, is thine:

Dread guardian Goddess, with benignant mind

auspicious, come to mystic rites inclin'd

Give earth a store of beauteous fruits to bear,

send gentle Peace, and Health with lovely hair,

And to the mountains drive Disease and Care.

Orphic Hymn to Artemis, trans. Taylor

I sing of Artemis, whose shafts are of gold, who cheers on the hounds, the pure maiden, shooter of stags, who delights in archery, own sister to Apollo with the golden sword. Over the shadowy hills and windy peaks she draws her golden bow, rejoicing in the chase, and sends out grievous shafts. The tops of the high mountains tremble and the tangled wood echoes awesomely with the outcry of beasts: earth quakes and the sea also where fishes shoal. But the goddess with a bold heart turns every way destroying the race of wild beasts: and when she is satisfied and has cheered her heart, this huntress who delights in arrows slackens her supple bow and goes to the great house of her dear brother Phoebus Apollo, to the rich land of Delphi, there to order the lovely dance of the Muses and Graces. There she hangs up her curved bow and her arrows, and heads and leads the dances, gracefully arrayed, while all they utter their heavenly voice, singing how neat-ankled Leto bare children supreme among the immortals both in thought and in deed.

Hail to you, children of Zeus and rich-haired Leto! And now I will remember you and another song also.

Homeric Hymn to Artemis, trans. Evelyn-White

Fumigation from Frankincense. Magnanimous, unconquer'd, boistrous Mars,

in darts rejoicing, and in bloody wars

Fierce and untam'd, whose mighty pow'r can make

the strongest walls from their foundations shake:

Mortal destroying king, defil'd with gore,

pleas'd with war's dreadful and tumultuous roar:

Thee, human blood, and swords, and spears delight,

and the dire ruin of mad savage fight.

Stay, furious contests, and avenging strife,

whose works with woe, embitter human life;

To lovely Kypris, and to Bacchus yield,

to Deo give the weapons of the field;

Encourage peace, to gentle works inclin'd,

and give abundance, with benignant mind.

Orphic Hymn to Ares, trans. Taylor

Ares, exceeding in strength, chariot-rider, golden-helmed, doughty in heart, shield-bearer, Saviour of cities, harnessed in bronze, strong of arm, unwearying, mighty with the spear, O defence of Olympus, father of warlike Victory, ally of Themis, stern governor of the rebellious, leader of righteous men, sceptred King of manliness, who whirl your fiery sphere among the planets in their sevenfold courses through the aether wherein your blazing steeds ever bear you above the third firmament of heaven; hear me, helper of men, giver of dauntless youth! Shed down a kindly ray from above upon my life, and strength of war, that I may be able to drive away bitter cowardice from my head and crush down the deceitful impulses of my soul. Restrain also the keen fury of my heart which provokes me to tread the ways of blood-curdling strife. Rather, O blessed one, give you me boldness to abide within the harmless laws of peace, avoiding strife and hatred and the violent fiends of death.

Homeric Hymn to Ares, trans. Evelyn-White

#helpol #artemis #ares #kharisteria #6 boedromion

[kdhume]

[jwhitelondon]

Full Moon in Capricorn at 7.37pm this evening………. Time to look up to the sky and dream……time to reach for the stars…….time to aim high…..time to dive deep into the unknown waters of our souls and realise what lies there, what is just sitting there waiting for us to discover when we finally dive in…….once we find what we have been hiding all this time, what we uncover what we find…..then the real work begins to transform all these hopes and dreams into our every day reality…..it won’t be easy and there will be many mountains to climb but if we we wiling to out in the work required then we can all be free like the Sea goat to chase our dreams and reach our goals…………. #getdreaming #dream #dreambig #fullmoon #supermoon #moon #capricorn #fullmoonvibes #fullmooncapricorn #aimhigh #divedeep #astrology https://www.instagram.com/p/Cf9yQfTD7Vf/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#getdreaming #dream #dreambig #fullmoon #supermoon #moon #capricorn #fullmoonvibes #fullmooncapricorn #aimhigh #divedeep #astrology

[westernzodia]

“Fuck.”

#IC #Chase: the Mountain Sea Goat #7 year old on his shit again. <3

[theobot]

My brain keeps feeding me these intricately plotted, detailed dreams that feel like the beginnings or middles or ends of novels and I never dream so I’m lost in confusion

#today i was the young queen of a nation of mountainous islands #the king was someone of my age and we stood together in silence at a religious ceremony off to the side #we kept a low profile never wearing intricate crowns or fancy clothing and lived in no castles and ate no feasts #a humble royalty for a humble country of farmers and fishermen #someone burst through the doors of the sanctuary to tell everyone of the sea orcs attacking our ships #they moved quickly and would spring into attack and hide over and over leaving wreckage and chaos #we set out in our faster ships blaring signals to stay home or stay put but there was carnage on the water #a general spotted us and chased after us his boat equal in speed to ours but was distracted by a more intricate ship and sent a lesser ship #after us assiming we in our simple but quick ship were just peasants. a sorceress easily broke their ship in half #we made it to the main island; a country of sheep and goat farms woth chickens squaking up the mountain side reminiscent of the swiss alps #we called for them to blare the horns and the people ran for the tunnels to the great keep we had built in the center of the tallest mtn #accesible only through these narrow and hard to spot tunnels that we and only we knew #but the king and i instead ran up a narrow dirt path with a handful of key officials; the sort of path others would fall off #if they tried to follow us; and made it to the station where we could blare the final horn causing the fire atop the mountain to be lit #the fires atop the other islands lit and horns could be heard blaring from bbelow as everyone was warned of the threat and we continued on #up the mountain we went until we reached the ridge which we walled down until we reached a spot between to great peaks; a vallied ridge #with steep cliffs to either side and only a narrow single-file passage to either side and there in that space was our home #not much more than a moss covered log cabin with trees that made gettig to it without fallig off the cliff difficult for anyone unpracticed #and we ran into our home and lit our hearth and held together as he and the others discussed if there was more to be done but wait #and those with the best vision ran up to the small space of pur third floor that was only windows to assure all was as we had planned #all we had planned in case of attack and watched as the sea lay bare beyond rhe destruction in their wake #we the peaceful people of the sheep and goat farms of the mountainous small islands of fog and snow and rain and long green grass #did not fight but rather hid and fled to places others could not reach us #it was almost like a test of our system or a warning of what was to come #what was to come #rambling pixi

[gemsofgreece]

Bad Boys of the Greek Cuisine

Everyone’s taste is different but the Greek Cuisine is generally acknowledged as a very tasty cuisine with both European and Middle Eastern influences. Not only that but it is considered one of the healthiest diets in the world with one of its branches, the Cretan diet, taking the first place the last time I checked. The secret of this cuisine’s success lies on the use of top quality and very fresh products and not so much on the use of many or unusual ingredients. However, that’s not to say that the Greek cuisine does not come with its fair share of extreme dishes. Here are some of them: Πατσάς - Patsás Patsas is a tripe soup / stew aka a stew made of stomach. It looks innocent and it is usually eaten as a comfort food but the cooking process smells like the name sounds... In Greece, there are shops called Patsatzídika that stay open until way past midnight and offer exclusively this dish and they are preferred after a lot of alcohol consumption. I had to remove the picture because I had eleven in this post and Tumblr sucks. I removed Patsas because it is the most normal looking one. Χοχλιοί μπουμπουριστοί - Hochlií buburistí Probably the Greek dish with the hardest name, at least for me. It is a traditional dish of Crete island but you can enjoy it all around Greece, provided that you are eager to eat... snails.

Κοκορέτσι - Kokoretsi Kokoretsi is a roasted dish made of animal intestines, livers and lungs served in slices. While this name does not originate from the Greek language, the dish was already loved by the Byzantine Greeks who called it “Chordae” meaning cords. The dish is hard to be prepared as it is necessary that the intestines are very carefully cleaned with tools such as pencils and knitting needles. In Greece it is often served at Easter.

Σπληνάντερο - Splinándero It is what its name means: Spleen and Large Bowel. Plus heart. From old sheep and goats. Also served at Easter because apparently Greeks go feral during Easter.

Μαγειρίτσα - Mayiritsa Another Easter classic, served during the Holy Saturday, Mayiritsa is a liver and heart soup. It’s certainly not for the faint of... nose such as me who I had to leave the house as my mum was cooking it. This is why recently a new type of Mayiritsa is trending, which replaces the organs with mushrooms and it is ideal for vegetarians and people with a sensitive nose. Nevertheless, most people love traditional Mayiritsa. Once I found an ice cream shop in Thessaloniki serving a mayiritsa flavour. What the heck.

By they way we have like another gazillion intestine dishes for some unknown reason but I will skip them to make this post more varied. Αχινοί - Raw Urchins This is a delicacy to several sea cuisines around the world. Greece is one of them. Recipe: go to a beach with clear waters, look for an urchin, hold it carefully, cut the living urchin in half with a knife and pour fresh lemon juice on it. That's it, that's the recipe.

Χταπόδι - Octopus This is by no means an extreme food in Greece but I include it here because I was surprised to find out it is nowhere as common in most countries and people often have a strong reaction to it. Well, in Greece we only have a reaction of fierce love for it. Octopus is used in several Greek dishes but the most iconic is probably grilled octopus marinated in vinegar often served with Greek sauerkraut salad. Seafood restaurants often hang fresh fished octopuses outside their shops and let them dry in the sun. It is a classic image of Greece and a sign the restaurant offers very fresh products. It was literally grabbed from the sea and flung to your face, top that level of freshness if you can.

Σπινιάλο - Spinialo Spinialo is a traditional seafood dish originating from the island of Kalymnos. The dish consists of fouskes, sea squirts that are marinated in a bottle of seawater. These primitive marine vertebrates usually attach themselves to shells and rocks, and when cut in half, fouskes reveal a soft flesh with a strong and bitter flavor and a texture that's similar to scrambled eggs.

Αρνί στη σούβλα - Skewered lamb If you are in anyway familiar with Greece, you probably know what the main event of our Easter feasts is. Roasting a whole skewered lamb. I imagine people freaking out at that. But, hey, it's a huge part of our tradition. And don't mind me saying, it bloody tastes insane. It's funny that in 27 years of life, now that I'm typing this in English, it is the first time it occurs to me that some people could potentially find this weird.

Πεσκανδρίτσα - Angler fish This hideous fish is eaten in two ways. Its...uhm... head is a common ingredient of Greek fish soups. I am personally not that much into soups or fish but let me tell you and sign this as well: this unassuming fellow has the most delicious tail. Its tail is called Μπρασκοουρά (Braskourá) and is heaven when fried. Don't look at it, just read my words and trust them.

Κεφαλάκι σούπα - Head soup The name sounds too generic but at least it is only about (poor) goats and sheep. This dish is getting a little too extreme for young Greeks but in my parents' generation, parents would chase the children to eat the eyes because that supposedly made you clever. The tongue was enjoyed too. Anyway, I'll spare you of a graphic image.

I am loth to end this fantastic post but the new BETA mode I am on forbids more than 10 pictures (that’s the actual reason I did not add a head soup picture and not that I am kind-hearted) so I'm gonna end this with the weirdest type of meat we eat. Like I said above, some things here might look a bit much, but when it comes to the types of meat Greeks eat, we really don't like taking the uncommon path. Greek cuisine is more mellow than extreme. Ironically, Greeks eat meats well done or medium at most because they are squeamish at the idea of eating bloody or remotely raw meat. So they eat a load of bowels and heads that stare at your soul but at least they are cooked for, like, 6 hours, you know, to ensure they are absolutely dead. Greeks typically devour eat farm animals, poultry, boars and a few commonly hunted birds, almost all fish and seafood. They also eat rabbits and hares (would that be considered uncommon? IDK) but that's where it ends. For instance, deer can be found in Greek supermarkets but nobody wants to eat such a gorgeous being and if you eat horse intentionally, you might as well get kicked out of the country (exaggeration but still). So, farm mammals, a few birds, fish and seafood. And snails. That's all. Oh! And- Βατραχοπόδαρα - Frog legs Frog legs is a traditional delicacy of the mountainous lakeside city of Ioannina. It is the only region of Greece where frogs are eaten. It is a tasty looking dish and those who have tried it say it actually tastes a lot like chicken. Actually sign me up for this. I mean, look at that. Why the hell not?

Now I wonder how many people decided to all of a sudden not travel to Greece and how many decided to come just now. And I wonder what that nice Anon who complimented my delicious food posts thinks now. But remember, Greek cuisine might have some bad boys but it also has many good good gooooood ones.

#greece #food #cuisine #mediterranean cuisine #greek cuisine #greek food #crete #kalymnos #dodecanese #ioannina #epirus #mainland #greek islands

[reidecorating]

Venus & the Sun

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

A/N: I felt compelled to write this because the thought of Spence hating mornings keeps me up - which then causes me to also hate mornings because I’m tired, it truly is a tragic cycle. also! here’s my masterlist!

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: Dragging a grumpy & sleepy Spencer out to a picnic on the water where the view was far more than he bargained for

Warnings: Early mornings A tiny bit suggestive, but predominantly just fluff galore <3

Whether Venus is named the Morning or Evening Star depends on what side of the sun it indwells. When the planet glistens and gleams from the eastern sky, it’s a telltale sign it’ll rise before the sun - namely becoming the Morning Star. If Spencer had it his way, he would not be awake before midday on a Saturday morning. If Spencer had it his way, he would continue to snore for some while longer, dreaming - visions of a maladaptive cottage in the Swiss Alps, a handful of mountain goats sprinkled about tufts of unmown alpine grass - certainly not giving a second thought towards planetary placements of a cosmos he never wished to be part of. But Spencer did not have it his way this morning. 

She always called Spencer her sun, but he believed that if this were to be true, she was his Venus; arising from the left side of his bed, sparkling and lighting up the world, most mornings, before he had even opened his eyes. The way in which she looked at him made him believe that the ancient Romans had been right about a deity of Venus, a goddess of love and beauty, his proof being the woman by his side. After wheedling him out of the comfort of rumpled sheets, with saccharine kisses and promises of more, at six o’clock, on the dot, she swept him away in a direction he recognised as towards the pier. It was the last place he would go in his free time, but because he was with her, he didn’t mind. As they journeyed on foot towards the sea, missing the growl of the car radiator, it became noticeable how winter lingered in the air, chasing joggers and haunting places where the daylight was yet to reach, as if it had unfinished business even Spring couldn’t prevent it from completing. 

Spencer felt no remorse towards anyone he hurt in the mornings. The time he spent existing, before half a litre of caffeine was sent down to his kidneys for filtration, angered him. She knew it, too. Always giving him space as he grumbled, with furrowed brows, at anything that moves, often resorting to giggling quietly and observing his shenanigans from a distance - usually involving a wrestle with a hot jug. As they walked, his fingers found the spaces between hers, grasping firmly to prevent the crisp air from streaming through to their bones. She chuckled at the tender action contrasting his expression. “What?” He scowled humorously. “Oh, nothing,” she suppressed a smile. The scowl turned confused. “You’re just very adorable, even when you despise me,” she teased. “I don’t despise you, I actually love you very much,” the sentence rolled off his tongue like a statistic, “I despise being awake.” At that, a grin broke across her face. “In fact, I think that being awake at this hour should be criminalised, I’ll pass the bill myself,”

“Good luck getting a representative to sponsor that bill, Doctor President,”

“I work for the government. I have connections,” 

“And they say this democracy isn’t corrupt,” she grimaced, only partly joking. She saw his laughter in a huff of foggy breath at her comment. “Anyway, when was the last time you had a proper breakfast?” She asked. Spencer thought about it for a moment. Yesterday, if espresso and inhaling air particles counts, he thought. “That… is a… trick question, pretty lady.” The corners of his mouth twitched from behind where his coat collar stood upturned, sufficing in the absence of a scarf, knowing that any answer he provided wouldn’t impress her. Without response, she just held his hand impossibly tighter, walking the tiniest bit quicker.

An unwieldily wicker basket dangled from his fingers, knuckles blue from the early air while they continued on their stroll along the promenade. “You can dismantle the patriarchy another day, Y/N. Please let me carry this for you,” Spencer had asked, insisting she carried the picnic blanket instead. Prevailing winds raced to hide within the drapes of his trench-coat, hiking it outwards behind him in the dramatic way it might if he were on a runway. Over the phone line, she would tell him, “Careful, you may be tempted to leave the BAU if you get scouted by Prada,” whenever she knew he was sat in a budget-meeting hotel room in Los Angeles or New York, wrestling with chopsticks and a container of cold noodles and undoubtedly working a case after hours. Never did he believe her, always taking her flattery with a grain of salt. “Absolutely not. For Givenchy though, I definitely might consider it.” She recalled his response. He acutely remembered the way she’d laughed on the other line, yearning to be the reason she did, forever. Admiring her lover, she struggled to comprehend how everyone in the world didn’t see the same things she saw. He had a beautiful soul. That’s what shone through every crack in his skin. 

Brine toothed sea mist had corroded bolts on the wharf over time, the slight stench of rusted metal taking their nostrils time to adjust to. She began laying down the thick flannel sheet over the dewy wood, careful as to not fall over the edge. “Now, I know you prefer sunsets, but trust me, after today you will change your mind,” she chirped, patting down the blanket. Spencer thought he preferred being alone, she changed his mind on that also, and so, he trusted her words unapologetically. “I’m sure of it,” he beamed at her, placing the basket down with a soft thud before cracking his, now, nearly transparent knuckles. “You look like you’re freezing!” She half whispered and half yelled, rushing to take his hands, cupping his much larger ones in hers and puffing out warm breaths of air in order to thaw his joints. After all, the jacket around her shoulders was one that belonged to him, it was the least she could do. Shaking his head at her actions, completely enamoured by the way she fiddled with his fingers to provide some friction, he turned to glance at the hills in the distance, the night falling and stars dissolving into day, like granules of sugar in hot tea. He looked back at her, catching her eyes, already gazing up at him. “I sense you’re about to tell me something I don’t know about sunrises,” she tilted her head. “Close,” he nodded, grin wider than the horizon before them, “I was going to tell you about Venus.” Pointing at the remaining speck of glitter in the sky, he wrapped an arm around her. “The ancient Greeks and Egyptians actually believed that Venus was two separate celestial bodies. A morning star, which the Greeks called Phosphoros, ‘the bringer of light’, and an evening star, Hesperos, ‘the star of the evening’. It wasn’t until a few hundred years later, that they realised that Venus was actually a single planet.” She nodded along, absorbing the new information before cupping his jaw in her palms to feel his lips between her own. “What was that for?” Spencer giggled after pulling away, not opposed to the action. “Just proving to the goddess of beauty and love that I do, very much, love a beautiful person.” The dawn breaking illuminated the rose flush on Spencer’s cheeks. “Fun fact, it’s actually the hottest planet in our solar system. Kind of…” he swallowed looking down at his shoes for a brief moment, “kind of reminds me of you,” he smirked, still an amateur to the skill they call flirting. Shaking her head at him, flustered, she sat down on the sheet motioning for him to take a seat beside her, before unpacking the basket. 

A small fishing boat coursed through the water, its hull parting the ocean from Atlantic to symmetrical fountain streams, which were immediately pinned back into place, the way a cobalt fabric cut by the scissors of a seamstress would fall to her worktable. Sitting cross legged above the water, Spencer, from a large flask, poured two much needed cups of coffee, the bright pink ’S’ decorating his one making him raise a brow. She handed him a spread bagel, topped with fluorescent streaks of smoked salmon and cracks of pepper, on a small wooden chopping board, heart fluttering at how his jaw dropped slightly in excitement. “It’s Philly Cream Cheese, by the way, I know you love dairy but I made sure this didn’t have any in it anyway.” A soft smile settled on his lips. “Thank you,” he expressed his gratitude, “for all of this,” he clarified, as he finished chopping up various stone fruit into a woven basket. “Don’t mention it. I just wanted to spend more hours of the day with you,”

“That’s very sweet, but I see exactly what you’re doing. I hope you don’t expect that this’ll get me up at this hour every weekend,” 

“Mhm,” a smug look made its way onto her face, “You already know I have other ways of getting you up early on Saturdays,”

“Oh? Okay, was that a-“ he had on an incredulous look, “I’m going to hold you to that,” he chewed down on his lip. She raised her eyebrows at his words. 

“Cheers,” she held up her cup for a toast. “Cheers,” Spencer repeated, the soft clink of metal sounding over the crows of gulls overhead. They huddled into each other, watching the vibrance of sunlight meld together like dyes on an artists’s unwashed watercolour palette. Needless to say, she was not at all disappointed when the star of the morning finally disappeared, because a sky full of them could be found in the eyes of the man she called hers, and as he turned to face her, before his hand settled in her hair and apricot flavoured tongue reached her lips, she saw it, for a moment.

#maybe this is all i want #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds imagine #matthew gray gubler #mgg fanfiction #mgg fic #mgg #mine: writing