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nikoisme · 10 months ago

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actually the fact that odysseus knew he'd be gone for 20 years makes the gears in my brain turn. You kiss your son goodbye knowing you will miss every milestone of his. He will be a grown man and will not remember you. You will be a father only by title. Your wife will lay alone in your wedding bed, she will wake and see the side you've slept on is empty. You won't hold each other for a long, long time. Your parents may not even be there to welcome you back. You know you will return, but the war stretches on and on. Your comrades fall. Your ships are on fire. Your best warriors are nothing but ashes in an urn. But it's eventually over, you can go home. But still, there's more time left. First it's a storm. It's winding up in strange lands. It's hunger. It's temptation. Your men grow weary. You have twelve ships and then you have one and then it's only you on a single timber. You know you will return, but everything has gone so horribly wrong that you can't help but wonder if the fates fooled you. Everyone you know is either dead or are living again. You are the only one stuck in between. Neither dead or alive. You sit on a beach staring out to the sea from the moments the birds sing til the sun dips over the horizon. Every day is the same - you sit on the stones and weep, you trek the shores, during the night you're in her bed. Your skin is cracked and sunburnt, your beard long and tangled, your hair etched with more and more silver hairs. Your eyes are dull, sunken. Your bones ache when you walk, your breath is shorter. The sun rises and sets. The waves wash away your footprints. You are growing old but the island is the same. You are left behind. Your home will change and you won't change with it. In fact, everyone will change, but you will not recognize what's different. Some of the lines under your eyes will be the hauntings of war, while your wife's will be from the sleepless nights of buying you time. You flinch when you see each other. You expected to see someone else, and she expected to see no one at all. You could once hold your boy in your arms, but now it feels like he's the one holding you. The trees in your orchard have grown taller. Some of the houses in your kingdom are empty. The children that sat on your knees now have their own children on their own knees - or they lie dead, by your own hand. Who are you? Who is your son, your wife? You will get to know each other, you will change together eventually. But there will still be something off, like a brick not fitting quite right in the foundation. Off like a living man among the dead, someone who wasn't fated to die, but was supposed to die a long time ago. A dead man among the living. You will not belong, even though you are the father of your son, the husband of your wife, the son of your father, the king of your land. There will always be something missing, something aching.

And you are willing to let it all happen when you lift your baby son from the field, away from the plow.

#*throws up* do you get it.#odysseus #procrastinating on schoolwork woohoo #niko rambles #you could've left your baby boy to die. you'd have more kids.#but you didnt.

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xxvalkyriesxx · 20 days ago

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Labyrinth of the Night - Chapter One

She laid broken and bloody in the street one moment and the next she was whole again, but now her humanity was lost forever.

OR Rhys hits Feyre with her motorcycle and in order to save her, turns her into a vampire.

Next Chapter

Read below or on AO3

AN: Hi Everyone! Welcome to my first Feysand fic! I'm trying to complete this spooky fic before Halloween (which I know is under a week, so we'll how well this turns out)

Please be aware that this fic features Sapphic!Feysand. And some Tamlin slander.

CW: Blood, cheating (not main characters)

Mood board made by me :p

Snippet:

Little thoughts came to her mind as she felt everything slow down. Death was here, and it was going to sweep her away like Elain. Feyre expected Death to be the grim reaper with a ratted cloak and a scythe, not a woman with ink black hair braided in a fishtail and eyes like the twilight sky.

“Darling?”

Her voice was husky, maybe even flirtatious, but Feyre couldn’t tell anymore. She was dying. And this woman had to be an angel.

At least I’m not going to hell.

“Feyre, please. This is my fifth time apologizing. Can’t you just forgive me?” Tamlin asked as he watched the young woman stuffing a backpack filled with clothes, some snacks, a tablet, and chargers.

Blue gray eyes glared daggers into his sunlight green ones. She watched him cringe and look away. Feyre’s gaze glanced at a nearby photo frame of them last year around the holidays. Feyre’s smile was so dim while Tamlin’s was bright and big.

“Feyre, I didn’t mean to do this. But what could I have done? You haven’t been home much recently.”

“Do you hear yourself? You just admitted that you’ve been cheating on me with the owner of the gallery that I’ve been working for the last three years. And you’ve been sleeping with her for at least the last two months.”

Feyre continued. “Not only that, but she’s stolen two of my own collection themes in the last year. And when I finally get a spot in the gallery, you end up fucking her!”

“And on top of all of that, two of my painted canvases are missing.” Feyre pointed to the few pieces she had left from her gallery from last week that rested on her unorganized desk. Most of her pieces had been surprisingly bought by an art collector. But there were still some left when she uninstalled her show as it was only running for a short time.

“Are you implying that Ianthe stole them?”

“They didn’t just walk off on their own!”

Tamlin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ianthe warned me about this.”

Feyre sneered. “About what? That you think I’m crazy? That you dove in between her legs without a second thought?!”

“It didn’t start off like that. You were complaining about wanting to have your own collection, so I asked her to give you a spot in the gallery and she said she would think about it. When you finally got your space, you ended up staying so late in the studio.”

Tamlin laid a hand on his chest, over his heart. “I was lonely. And Ianthe was there, and she took care of what I needed.”

Her mouth dropped slightly. “You asked Ianthe to give me a spot in the gallery? The one woman I’ve been working my ass under for years? Did she let you fuck her before or after you asked?”

Feyre held up her hand as Tamlin went to explain. “Don’t fucking answer that.”

Tamlin approached Feyre as she took a step back, closer to the front door.

“Feyre, this is all in the past now. Your collection finished last week. Now we can focus on our relationship.”

Feyre shook her head. “No. I’m tired of feeling this way, Tamlin! You’re draining everything out of me.” She grabbed her phone off the nearby table, the percentage in yellow as it read under 30%.

“I’m not going to hear you out. I’m not going to forgive you. This was the last straw. I should’ve listened to Nesta.”

Tamlin growled. “Your whore of a sister is a waste of life. You left your family because I provided a future for you. They couldn’t even take care of you.”

Feyre squeezed her eyes expecting more tears, but there was none left in that moment. None left for the man she was in love with. No, the man she thought she loved. When Feyre didn’t answer, Tamlin raised his voice. She hated how her knees buckled slightly in fear.

“So what, you’re going to leave me? Go to your sister? She’s all you have now since your other sister is dead. Do you even know where Nesta is? Is she even still in the state?”

“Fuck you, Tamlin.”

Quick as she could, Feyre turned the door knob of the front door before bolting out of the townhouse into the rainy night of downtown Baltimore.

“Fuck, why won’t you pick up?!” Feyre yelled into her phone as the automatic voice said for a third time that the phone number had been disconnected.

She hadn’t spoken to Nesta in years, not since the morning she left her two sisters in their family home on the Eastern Shore of Maryland.

“Feyre, just think about this for one second. You’re barely nineteen. This guy is almost thirty. And you’ve known him for what? A month? Maybe two? Just because dad’s dead doesn’t mean you can just make any and all stupid decisions.”

“Oh shut up, Nesta. I want out of this awful house. I hate everything about this house!”

“No you don’t, Fey. You’re being a child.” Nesta stated as she went to reach for Feyre’s hand.

“No! I’m not staying in this house for one more second. I hate it! I hate you!” Feyre yelled.

Instantly Nesta stepped back and for a fraction of a second Feyre swore there were tears in Nesta’s eyes but in a flash, they were gone.

“Fine, go with your boyfriend. Do whatever the fuck you want. Why would I care?” Nesta sneered as she turned her back before heading back inside, slamming the front door.

“Fey, Nesta is right on this. Can’t you just stay for another month or two. You’re young, and we haven’t even met this guy yet.” Her other sister, Elain said.

Elain stood slightly timid from the heated exchange of her sisters. Her big doe eyes pleaded with Feyre.

“Please, Fey?”

“No. I’m not staying here. I need out, Elain. Go see Nesta or something. She needs to be comforted more than I do.”

Feyre watched as her second older sister shook her head in shame before she stepped back and went back into the house. This time the front door shut quietly, but the quietness was drowned out by the loud squeals of tires as a car stopped at the curb of the front yard.

“Ready to go, Thorns and All?” A man with long blonde hair said as he peered from the driver seat. He used Feyre’s username from reddit.

“Rose Court?” Feyre asked. She blushed slightly as the man stared a bit too long at her chest.

“The one and only. But like I said in our text, call me Tamlin, Felicity.”

“It’s Feyre.”

“Right, sorry. The trunk’s opened so put your bags in there. Hurry up too, I want to beat all of the traffic on 50 and 95.”

The thought of Elain painted Feyre in pain. Her sister had died in a freak accident with her car falling off the Bay Bridge into the shallow waters of the Chesapeake. Her body was never found, and Feyre never went to the funeral.

“It’s tragic, but your sister didn’t help take care of you, right?” Tamlin asked, knowing the answer.

“Ellie is my sister, and she’s dead.” Feyre sobbed into his chest.

“I know, Thorns. But listen, she never took care of you, so why waste your breath on her? Let her soul rest. Maybe we can visit her gravestone when the commotion has died down.”

She died over two years ago, just a year after Feyre moved out. No matter how hard Feyre tried, Tamlin wouldn’t let her go visit. Elain’s graves was in their hometown of Berlin. He always mentioned the bridge was dangerous and that they’ll go together at some point but they would have to take the long route of cutting through Delaware to get there.

But they never did.

Feyre also never got her licenses and from Baltimore city, that trip was at least two hours one way by bus and standard traffic. Tamlin would notice if she was gone too long. And if he didn’t know where she was at all times, he would freak. He would accuse her of cheating on him. Ironic.

The rain was only pouring harder as Feyre reached the Inner Harbor. It was late enough that some of the stores had closed, but a few restaurants and bars were still opened. Feyre glanced at her phone again seeing the battery at 15% now.

“Shit.” I need to get to a bar fast to charge my phone.

Feyre thanked every star that she ended up buying a waterproof backpack a few months ago. She was caught in the rain one night as she went from the studio to the townhouse.

I don’t even know if the house is still there in Berlin. I don't even know how to get a hold of Nesta.

Feyre didn’t want to think of the reality that she literally had no one in her corner. For the last three years it’s only been Tamlin.

Don’t cry! Crying makes everything worse. Focus, Fey! I can cry later.

Not far from her, a nearby bar’s lights shone brightly in the darkness of the city sky. Feyre felt hope flutter in her chest. She picked up the pace wanting to get there as fast as possible. It was reckless to ignore the red stop light for pedestrians, but the sooner she was out of the rain, the sooner she could come up with a plan.

But then a bright light engulfed her before she felt her body leave the ground. Dazed by the rain clouds as her body smacked into the asphalt of the road, broken and bloody.

“Darling?”

Her voice was husky, maybe even flirtatious, but Feyre couldn’t tell anymore. She was dying. And this woman had to be an angel.

At least I’m not going to hell.

Rhys knew better than to be speeding down the streets of Baltimore, but to be fair she needed to be back in Frederick before the morning and still had to make a few stops in Catonsville and Ellicott City before she could venture home.

Driving the motorcycle seemed pointless to her cousin. She always asked her why ride it when they were just as fast, if not faster.

Rhys didn’t want her cousin to be peering too closely into her thoughts so she mentioned technology had evolved over the centuries, so should they. But what Rhys withheld from her cousin was that riding was one of the closest things she felt to being human again.

And now that feeling was stripped away as an almost dead woman laid feet from the crosswalk.

“Fuck, fuck. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Rhys ran over to the woman and her eyes widened just a bit. “Darling, are you hurt anywhere?”

The rain poured over their bodies but Rhys saw the familiar blue gray eyes that she’s seen every day for the last two years, only these eyes didn’t glare at her, but stared in wonder as they took in their final sights.

“Nesta is going to kill me” Rhys mumbled underneath her breath.

She pulled the woman into her arms. The rain had diluted some of the spilled blood already. Rhys held her breath for a moment, trying to soothe the ache of her hunger clawing at her throat and mind.

“I’m not letting you die today, Feyre darling.”

Then Rhys leant down to Feyre’s neck and sunk her fangs right near the fading pulse.

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