#Make you are crown out of the Flowers.

[songbirdsia]

[tcustodisart]

Whenever I drew Connie with a single dandelion behind his ear this scene was playing in my head like wii channel music.

[smilesrobotlover]

Rusl appreciation post. And more snow illustrations cuz I loooove painting snowy landscapes

[fellamarsh]

another thing i've been trying to do recently is read more self-published stuff. "but fell," you say, "you're a self-published author. surely you've been reading self-published stuff all along" and then i laugh for so long in response we both become uncomfortable.

see, the fear (which has for a long time been killing my mind) that i'll read other self-published stuff and find out that it's so much better than mine that i might as well stop writing forever kept me from doing that basically ever. i have a hard time not unfavorably comparing my work to others and had convinced myself i was being smart by withholding an avenue of de-motivation (reader: i was not being smart). it also doesn't help that i'm pretty low income and have a hard time spending money on books i haven't already read, and that self-published stuff isn't always available at the library---but really a lot of it was just me being a coward. which i'm working on. i could talk about how this particular cowardice is Very Silly, but i think enough has been said about it on writeblr and in the Writing Space in general that i don't feel the need to (though i will if anyone wants me to).

instead, i wanna talk about the self-published things i have read in the past few months and ask about the self-published things you love!

so: what happened was i got real sick, and while i was real sick i (naturally) read over 200,000 words of ace attorney fan fiction in the span of a few days. eventually i got bored of it (and also maybe annoyed at how people were characterizing some of my guys), but i still wanted to read something gay and romantic and nice, something i knew was gonna end happily, which isn't my typical fare.

now you may be saying (having gotten over all the uncomfortable laughter from earlier) "fell, you write gay romance. what do you mean that's not your typical fare?" listen. until a couple months ago i hadn't read a cut and dry romance novel since before i finished college. for context: i graduated in 2015. i know it doesn't make sense. i'm a guy who doesn't make sense.

but in this case it worked to my advantage. not the not making sense thing, but the not having read Published Romance in 1000 years thing. I didn't know where to start. I was very skeptical of everything the library had Available Now in the Gay Fantasy Romance category. what if it was all bad and also not good?

and then i scrolled past the familiar cover of our very own @ashen-crest's A Rival Most Vial.

now this was comfortable territory! this was a novel by a very nice writeblr person whose posts i enjoy! i already loosely knew the plot, i was familiar with the characters, i knew the names of things like rosemond street and the griffin's claw and that ambrose had blue hair and that at the end of it all there would definitely be Boyfriends. i didn't have to worry that this would be bad! i only had to worry that it would be really good!

but i wasn't worried about that, because i was officially Not Writing at the time, and because why the hell hadn't i read this book yet Ash literally emailed me some very kind words last year when my cat died??

Y'all, I devoured ARMV. If you haven't read it yet---especially if cozy fantasy is more your thing than it is mine---you should check it out Immediately. It was fun! It was heartwarming! It was sweet and earnest and confident! I was delighted to find it was occasionally hot! Ambrose and Eli snuggled up into my sick exhausted heart and found a permanent little place there. (Especially Ambrose. I have such a thing for Stiff Guys who Kind of Suck for Tragic Backstory Reasons and are So So Lonely They Don't Even Realize It. gawd)

(And a very small part of my brain spent the whole time wondering why I had been so afraid to really engage with the work my community is doing. The community that I'm in. The one I'm a part of. Why?! Maybe more on that later.)

But from there the curse was broken! I immediately devoured @stjohnstarling's What Manner of Man in a similar sort of frenzy (and hooooly shit guys am I excited for the expanded, finalized version to come out at the end of next month!) and started digging into @lurinatftbn's The Flower that Bloomed Nowhere (which I can already tell is going to be an All Time Favorite).

And now I want to ask you what your favorite self-published books are so that I can read them, too, but I think I will in another post that doesn't dedicate so much space to talking about my various and sundry Issues and isn't Terminally Long

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

Okay I actually so want to do this

🥚Attention my wonderful followers and passer-bys🥚

I want to start a thing!

I seriously think we should make more egg OC's/Eggsona!!!! So if you make one, PLEASE send it to me and/or use the tag 'Poll's Egg Playdate'

I'll try to do something fun with it :]

[stergeon]

at some point i will figure out how to write the post-canon, post-empire edelgard autonomy fic of my dreams. it just feels like a very big task and maybe like with playing the dane, i’m simply not old and traumatized enough to manage it yet.

but my vision is thus: it’s set years (realistically, decades) after the end of crimson flower, when everything has gone as right as it can possibly go. fódlan is thriving. the social reforms have taken effect. the nobility system is nearly eliminated, if not entirely so, with titles made merely symbolic. social mobility, welfare, and prosperity are high. there’s an explosion in arts and culture and technology. brigid and duscur have gained independence; relations with sreng and almyra are much improved; heck, maybe they've even figured it out with dagda. in my most idealistic version, leicester and faerghus would eventually be ceded back to become autonomous regions, essentially disbanding the adrestian empire. rule is no longer hereditary, but merit-based. there's a roadmap for the future, and everything is on track—and more than that, people at all points on the power spectrum have already seen it bear fruit. with or without edelgard, it will be pursued. there's buy-in. they believe.

of course, it's not perfect—nothing can be—but edelgard's vision has been fulfilled. the people are empowered. humanity is free. fódlan has healed.

and somehow, she's had enough time to resolve her goals outside of politics, too. those who slither in the dark have been eradicated. edelgard and lysithea's second crests have been successfully removed, allowing them to live if not full lives, then substantially longer ones than they would have with their twin crests intact. who knows—maybe she finally gets around to having that wedding.

point for point, every item listed in edelgard's manifesto has been checked off. the ghosts of her past have been laid to rest. she can finally take off her crown. she can finally pursue the quiet, humble life she's wanted for so long. she can finally breathe.

... but can she?

edelgard is nothing if not driven. her intelligence, vision, and sheer willpower allowed her to plan and execute a revolution against two countries and the most powerful institution on the continent, all while she was still a teenager. as royalty, her life was never truly hers even before she became heir to the adrestian throne, with all the additional baggage of survivor's guilt and the desire for vengeance and her need to ensure nothing that happened to her can ever happen to anyone else, ever again.

so what happens when that drive has no outlet? what happens when someone who has been constantly in motion, constantly working and planning and preparing every spare second of every day since she was fourteen years old, suddenly has to stand still? what happens when someone whose hands have been bound for so long—first literally in the dungeons of enbarr, then by the weight and responsibilities of her crown—is set free?

being edelgard, she would step away from the throne, no matter how hard it was for her to give up control. she's always been focused on the endgame, and she knows that if she doesn't let go, she'll be setting the wrong tone for fódlan's future. she's too devoted to that endgame to cling to power much longer than she needs to, though i could see her making some excuses and trying to iron out just a few more things to buy herself some more time to mentally prepare before she's done for good.

but who would she be then? who is the woman without the crown? what becomes of a machine once it is no longer needed, when it has made itself obsolete? what about when that machine is a person with legs and arms and an innate unwillingness to gather dust on a shelf?

what happens when you get everything you want? what happens when all your wanting has been for others to thrive, and now you have to want only for yourself? how do you discover who you are when you've spent decades being everything for everyone else? how do you find meaning again? how do you find purpose?

after a lifetime of devotion and passion and movement, how do you learn to sit with yourself, and be quiet, and be still?

gosh, i would love to meet her. i would love to pick her brain. but boy, i do not envy the work that girl has to do.

[moonsavior]

He misses his mc so much 🥲

[d20unfuckability]

"He's a big fuzzy perfect gentleman who doesn't do pants"

"The platonic ideal of a Hunk, with a weapon called "chinseeker" so you know he's not afraid to dish out punishment if you misbehave! ;) also he's a maestro of piss in terms of power and control, so if golden showers are your thing he'll give you a golden power-wash!"

[savage-rhi]

🎶Come lie with me, in the grass, and you'll be, in a world full of pure procrastination!🎶

[laika-of-the-stars]

im sorry mom and dad, i know i messed up bad

[puddingcake300]

For drawing suggestion... your fave with a flower crown!

a crown for my king 🫶

good luck everyone trying to pull him!

[softquietsteadylove]

So, I've got a prompt for you.

I love movies and tv series and they are all so different from each other but also have so much things in common. And there is one thing i can picture our beloved men from Eternals in.

I think at least one time in their whole time on earth, Ajak forced her children to spend time together, in groups. So while Ajak is dragging her daughters around, the group of men are forced to hang out with each other. And a full men group, hanging out, means normal conversations drifting to uncomfortable and awkward conversations (for at least one or two individuals.) So I'd like to ask you to write Kingo, Phastos, Druig, Ikaris and Gilgamesh (god i love him, malewife) in such a situation, maybe sparring together, drinking alcohol but the most important: talking about (their) girls! (or boys, or whatever preference our individuals have in a partner)

"This fuckin' sucks."

No one spoke up to agree with Druig, but certainly no one argued with him, either.

Ajak was with the other half of the Eternals, having brought Sersi, Makkari, Thena and Sprite with her to the beautiful natural springs just outside the palace grounds. India was so mild in climate, and they were still getting used to the place after arriving short of a month ago.

She had claimed it was mother-daughter bonding time, and encouraged they do the same. Gil and Kingo had certainly had their reservations, while Ikaris, Druig and Phastos had quickly asserted that they would rather let the villagers burn them on the pyre.

And yet here they were.

Kingo took a sip of his...whatever it was. He winced a little at it, staring into the fire they'd built simply for something to do and occupy their time. He was the most antsy, the rest of them having devolved into silence naturally. Which wasn't really Kingo's style. "Is anyone going to say anything, or...?"

"Just did," Druig barked at him from an entirely separate log bench all to himself, "sucks."

"Oi," Ikaris snarled at him, which did nothing to improve the atmosphere. He leaned on his knees, also sitting on a separate log bench.

Phastos was occupying himself with whatever, using his powers for something or other, ignoring them all deliberately. Also on his own log.

Gil sighed, staring up at the moon from where he had given upon talking and simply laid down on the ground.

Kingo turned around to look at Gil, lying down behind him, "what's with you?"

The Strongest Eternal shrugged, absently pulling up a bite of mango for himself. "I wonder what Thena's thinking about right now."

A round of loud groans hit the air, startling the birds in the trees.

"What?" Gil sat up with a frown at his band of brothers.

"Thena-this, and Thena-that," Phastos supplied readily, rolling his eyes the hardest at it.

"Oh, come on," Gil huffed, but he looked over as Druig barked out a sharp laugh at him.

"Gil, you ever heard yer own thoughts, mate?" the mind reader snickered, poking at his own temple as he said it. "Thena-this and Thena-that is exactly what you're thinkin'--always!"

Gil sighed, dusting himself off and sitting himself on Kingo's log properly. "I don't see the problem."

"You wouldn't," Ikaris snorted, and this time Gil took a little more offense to it. "You've got all that muscle and not a single one in your brain."

Gil picked up a rock and flicked it at the Soaring Eternal. For any mortal, it would have gone clean through their head like a bullet, but Ikaris snarled as it bounced off his forehead like a nut shell. "Aren't you supposed to be getting married soon? I'd expect you to have thoughts of nothing but your future wife."

Ikaris also soured at having his fiancee brought up. "Some of us can think of more than one thing at a time."

"Okay," Phastos held a hand in both of their directions, as if trying to soothe savage beasts. "No one has to talk about anyone's wives, y'animals."

"Let 'em have it out, Phastos," Druig laughed, picking up a pear for himself and biting into it with a disgusting amount of gusto. Chunks and juice flew from his mouth as he pointed, "I wanna shee what 'appensh!"

"Close your damn mouth when you're eating!" Phastos barked at the 'youngest' of them present.

"All that'll happen is Ajak getting mad at us," Kingo pointed out liberally. He patted Gil's shoulder, knowing that he was the more easily reasoned with between him and Ikaris. "Look Gil, I support you, and your gross, sappy romanticism."

"Thanks," Gil sneered at him and his 'support'. He turned his glare in Druig's direction, "I don't bring up you following Kari around, now do I?"

"Oi," Druig grumbled.

Phastos shared a look with Kingo, both of them entirely capable of disparaging their siblings in similar and opposite ways. Phastos wasn't opposed to the vessel, but needed the right soul. Kingo was proudly uninterested in everyone equally.

Ikaris also looked up at the moon and sighed. "What're they even doing?"

Kingo looked at Druig, "what did mother-daughter bonding mean?"

Druig snarled up one side of his nose and lips. "You think I'm in everyone's heads all the fuckin' time?"

"Kinda."

"Well, m'not," Druig shrugged, tossing away his pear seeds and reaching for a fresh one. "That'd be exhausting."

"Whose thoughts are the loudest?"

"Yours."

"I don't believe you," Kingo countered just as quickly as Druig had. He got a look for it but shrugged. "Maybe sometimes, sure. But it can't always be me."

Druig chuckled, bobbing his head in Gil's direction, "who'd you think? It's Mister Thena over 'ere."

"What do you mean they're loud?" Gil crossed his arms in his defense.

"Just what it sounds like, Gil," Druig offered at least slightly more amiable than he had been before. "S'not like shoutin', I guess. But they're...they're loud and clear. All the time."

"Like wh-"

"Thena," all four other Eternals answered for him simultaneously. Gil pursed his lips, feeling his cheeks warm. But at least the others were smiling and laughing (even if it was at his expense).

Druig slapped his knee in glee. "It's always 'where's Thena?', or 'wonder what Thena's up to', or 'I miss Thena' from you."

"Okay, okay," Gil sighed. It wasn't as if he had a correction to make, or even a defense to it. Those certainly sounded like his thoughts.

"Her too."

"Huh?" Gil blinked, hearing a much softer follow up from Druig.

The solitary Eternal was looking down at his pear, toying with it in his hands as the truth of his words made him quieter. He offered Gil a smile. "She's the same way--if you somehow didn't know."

"Thena?" Gil blinked.

"Yeah, Thena?" Kingo repeated from next to him. "I mean, I don't doubt it about Gil, but I figured T was...harder to read."

Druig grinned, shaking his head. He became a little more sheepish, but shrugged. "Most'a the time, yeah. But when it's about Gil here...she's clear as a bell."

Kingo just nodded, taking another sip of (whatever). "Wouldn't have guessed."

"First time I caught it I thought I was fucked," Druig shook his head. "T doesn't take kindly t'me pokin' around, 'course. But this thought just--it shot out like an arrow."

"What was it?" Gil asked, unable to resist.

Druig looked at him, offering a much more genuine smile, "Gil."

He just stared, "yeah--I'm asking."

"No, that's it," Druig chuckled, shaking his head again and ruffling his hair for good measure. "Just Gil--she walks around with your name in 'er head like the breath in 'er lungs. I had to learn to block it out--s'like a clock, tick-tick-tickin' away in the background."

Gil looked like he could burst with joy.

Ikaris cleared his throat faintly, already ruddy cheeked when the others looked at him. "Does, uh, Sersi-"

"Don't know, haven't checked."

"Okay!" Phastos stood, clapping his hands together before Ikaris could pick up Druig and throw him clear across the Ganges. "Why don't I reach out to Ajak and see what they're up to?"

Druig rolled his eyes as a loud and clear I want to see Thena floated into his mind. Gil was like an unchecked faucet--sometimes dripping, sometimes on full blast, but always leaking in some way.

"That's a good idea," Ikaris growled as he floated back down to his log, fists still clenched and eyes still glowing.

"Well," Kingo sighed as he set down his nondescript beverage. "What an unproductive discussion."

"Speak for yourself," Gil chuckled, nudging his most jovial brother's arm.

[glitchingonthetimeline]

Ugh.

[realmythsmoved]

@potestmagice

@okruchlodu

[americanblossom]

tag drop

[rafesweetie]

in which you’re forced into having a talk with your ex-boyfriend, rafe cameron, on the boat ride to morocco.

being a pogue and rafe cameron’s ex was not easy. although you dated shortly before he killed peterkin, and you were sure he barely even remembered your favourite colour, seeing him blatanly disrespect you and his friends, and go down a path you tried so hard to prevent him from, was hard to watch. but now he’s picked himself up since ward died. you thought you had another chance to at least be on good terms. sending flowers and a card to tanneyhill when ward died, smiling at him when you’d see him around. it didn’t work, he still hated you and your friends.

fortunately, he redeemed himself ever so slightly by volunteering to take the pogues to morocco. rafe had to find chandler groff, you guys wanted the blue crown. it was perfect.

until jj punched him, that is. he knocked him out cold. with a scolding “jj!” coming from majority of the pogues, including you, jj carries him down into the downstairs washroom and ties his wrists to a pole. they don’t trust him, which is fair. you don’t either — you shouldn’t, anyway.

rafe was down there quietly for a mere half hour until he woke up with a groan from his head hitting the ground earlier, followed up with yelling once he realizes he was stuck down there.

all touching your noses and saying ‘not it’ the minute pope suggests someone going down there to check on him, you’re the unlucky one who said it last. shutting up your protests, john b gently coaxes you downstairs, saying things like, “you used to mack on him”, “this is good, you know him”, “he won’t hurt you,” john b leaves you downstairs once you make it to the door of the bathroom. knocking gently, you timidly ask, “can i come in?”

there’s no answer. you can picture him. wrists tied, brows furrowed, eyes closed tightly as his head leans against the wall and towards the ceiling. his gorgeous stressed face. you slowly open the door, peeking your head in. “hi,” you say gently, timid around the scary and aggressive man you have the curse of calling your ex.

“…hey,” rafe says, voice rough as he shuts his eyes tight.

unsure what to say, you awkwardly stand there and stare down at him. “um, i brought asprin,”

“right, right, like i can fuckin’ swallow it. what, you gonna throw it in my mouth like a.. seal or something?” sassy, his upper lip lifts a bit as he thinks about it and isn’t very fond of the idea.

a second of silence as you figure out what to say. “…um, ill just set it down here,” you say, putting the container down beside him. “sorry about your head.”

“yeah, uh, your little boyfriend can’t control his fists, huh?”

“…not my boyfriend,” you correct softly, though you’re not sure why you feel the need to tell him that. “but no one really.. trusts you, rafe, so you kind of brought this on yourself—“

he quickly interrupts you. “bullshit. you know why that’s bullshit? because i was helping. who got you this boat, huh? me. i did. rafe. i’m the reason that you guys aren’t swimming, or some shit, to north africa. i’m being helpful and understanding, and this is what i get. you think that’s fair?” when you’re stood there in silence at his sudden raised voice, he repeats, “you think that’s fucking fair, y/n!?” he kicks a can in anger.

it’s like you’re his girlfriend again as you sit down next to him instantly instead of running. you get deja vu to the time three years ago when he was high on coke and got kicked out of the house. everyone ignored him except for you. “..um, okay, i’m gonna give you some asprin,” you say softly. “help your head. open,” you tell him, grabbing a pill as he gives you a look but opens his mouth. you pop it in his mouth and he dry swallows. “there.”

you two share a look. you don’t think it’s a bad look by any means. he looks frustrated still, but there’s an underlying gentleness in his eyes, as if he registers you’re still the same girl you were when you two were together. “…and, um, for the record, i don’t think it’s fair that you’re down here. you helped us, thats.. nice.”

the word ‘us’ when referring to you and the pogues makes him feel weird. “i don’t get why you hang out with them,” he mutters as he looks at the ground. “tried so fucking hard to keep you away from them when we were.. together.”

“i know,” you whisper, your gaze dropping as well, to his tied wrists. you feel awful. “trust me, your warnings still play in my head when i’m with them sometimes,”

“you remind me of sarah.” he says. you’re not sure what that means.

“you hate sarah,”

“nah, nah— i don’t hate her. hate who she’s turned into,” he adjusts himself. “she makes me sad. i’m sad for her, alright? she had so much potential.“ he shrugs. “but there’s no saving her. she’s in too deep,” he looks back up at you again. “i think there’s saving you, though,”

“…this is weird, rafe,”

“how?” he asks.

“because in the years we’ve been broken up, you’ve never talked to me about this. feels like it’s a… trick or something,”

“it’s not a trick,” he assures, voice still rough. “look, i’m out half a mill, i’m tied up in a bathroom, i’m probably gonna.. die or something. i got nothing to lose, may as well tell you my concern,”

“um, i appreciate it,” you say gently, unsure how to respond. “and i’m gonna go back upstairs.”

“hey— no, woah, woah, woah,” he stops you quickly. “stay. okay?”

“i should go up and help with dinner, though—“

“no, stay. i— i want you to stay, okay? i don’t wanna be down here alone, and i want you away from the pogues,”

he doesn’t wanna be alone. you feel bad for him all over again, nodding gently as you sit back down beside him. you always were so good for rafe.

you’re not sure how long you’ll be down here with him. maybe until it’s late at night and he’s asleep. so gently, after about five minutes of silence, to ease some of the tension and pass the time, you murmur a, “truth or dare?”

rafe just smiles.