#but only for a bit!

[clockwork-ashes]

Something Lonesome - Part I (again)

Read also on Ao3 :)

Summary: Elain dies when she’s thrown into the cauldron, but she doesn’t stay dead for long. Over and over, again and again, something brings her back, and every time she finds her way to Lucien.

Note: This is a romance, but it’s also just a story about Elain. There will be a happy ending <3 Also, completely dedicated to the lovely @nocasdatsgay because I have so many ideas and every time I yell them into the tumblr void (the tags) she has something nice to say <3

The water in the Cauldron was dark, unnaturally so, pitch black despite the flickering torches that lined the walls of the large space. It reflected nothing, only absorbed light and colour until it looked endless. 

The sight was enough to make Elain pause, familiarity making her tense. It flooded her senses, whirling until she was dizzy. Constant like the sound of crickets at dusk, she felt a memory just at the back of her mind, unreachable and yet there. 

Elain even recognised the ancient object in front of her, the deep grey iron surface of the bowl both uneven and smooth. It had a wide mouth and was filled to the brim, waves nearly spilling like there was a current, ripples being made on a phantom wind. It took her a moment to realise where she’d seen it before. 

In her dreams. 

Elain only tore her gaze away from the mesmerising waters when rough hands lifted her effortlessly into the air. The gag in her mouth tasted bitter and made her tongue dry. Each word she tried to utter was muffled, so she’d decided to keep silent earlier in the night. She was certain there were tracks cutting across her cheeks from all the tears she’d cried, but she admired Nesta’s bravery, her insistence on fighting tooth and nail until they had tied her hands and feet together. 

Elain could feel the cool metal of her engagement ring cutting into the skin of her finger. It was sharp, the knuckle curled in a way that made it hurt. She wondered if she was bleeding, but the sweat of her palms had her feeling unsure. 

Grayson’s pretty blue eyes flashed in her mind, clear as the sky in Spring. She didn’t want to think about him, about her life being cut so short before they could marry. She pushed the image of him aside, aching. 

Elain was hardly courageous, and she knew it. She hoped Feyre would forgive her, if not for anything else, at least for giving up so easily. Her younger sister held herself like a warrior, all grown up, and still, Elain thought of her as little. She figured that would always be the case, no matter how many years passed, time flowed like a river and most things stayed the same. 

“Please,” Feyre begged, a tightness to her voice that Elain had learned meant she was close to sobbing. 

Someone Elain could not see must have indicated to the men holding her. She was tugged gracelessly closer to the Cauldron. If she’d pointed her toes, her pale skin would have touched the water. She instead bent her knees up towards her chest, prolonging the inevitable. She felt more than heard the terrified moan escape through the corners of her gag. She couldn’t look at the water without wanting to shriek, so she turned her head, shifting her attention to anything else.

Almost like the pull of a magnet, her dark eyes fell instantly to a mismatched pair. 

Sunlight. 

The unknown man had sunshine in his gaze, golden and bright. The colour of his one eye was so lovely and rich, devastating. He looked unbelievably guilty. There was a miserable tightness to his auburn brows, a mournful expression tugging on the corners of his full lips. 

He had a hand on the sword at his belt, like he would have fought for her. He stayed in his place, a stoic faerie knight from the stories only told above the wall. 

Beautiful.

Elain felt something crack inside her chest, the pain unbearable. It was like someone had grabbed onto her rib and twisted until it broke, cleaving in two. Her eyes widened in shock, a silent plea for help. 

The red-haired man staggered forward, his mouth falling open in the smallest of gasps. Elain wished she had heard his voice, could imagine the low timber of it clear as glass. She guessed what he might whisper. 

Stay.  

Elain did not have the chance to shout, barely had the chance to blink. Eager hands casually threw her into the depthless waters of the Cauldron. Even then, the loss of contact had her noticing just how very alone she was.  

Elain felt each stab of ice slowly crawl along her spine, the single pearl from her ring shattering as the tiny pieces floated like shimmering snowflakes to the surface. She tried to watch them, could see their reflection mirrored like stars above her. Each spark of light winked out of existence, taking turns. The sharp taste of copper lingered, blood dancing on her tongue.

Darkness came again, and Elain let it take her without a fight.

[nymphoutofwater]

And why? Cultural norms? Personal schedule? “Cause I’m always late to everything”?

Bonus points: Region and/or ethnicity?

[worm-on-my-way]

hc that danny just sees wanda and cosmo's true forms

[uncanny-tranny]

I think so many people are so deeply alienated from themselves that they have no clue how to exercise their free will and autonomy. For some, this alienation runs so deep that they are afraid of their own autonomy and humanity. It is completely understandable why one would have those feelings, but it can be worrisome.

I want to help others who feel this way, so here are small things I have done to exercise my free will:

Add "guilty pleasure" songs to playlists and actually listen to them (I have a ton of late 1990s-early 2000s music I listen to now proudly that I never listened to in the past out of shame)

Getting the décor item, bath set, bed spread, ect. in the patterns you like, even if it's "childish" (I got a dinosaur-themed wastebasket from the kids' décor section and I adore it)

Taking a new route to get to a place you go to often

Eat dessert first

Celebrate well, and often

Collect things that are "odd" or don't seem like an "acceptable" thing to collect (somebody on my "for you" page collects dandelion crayola crayons and it was so cool!!!!!!)

Incorporate one new piece in an outfit you wear frequently (e.g., a new chain, a necklace, ribbons, bracelets, ect.). Challenge yourself to add onto the outfits if you feel up for it.

Sing along to songs without worrying that you sound "good" or your intonation is completely accurate

Read a book from a genre you weren't allowed to read as a kid (comics, thrillers, mysteries, anything!)

Walk without having a specific destination or goal

Pick up a new craft without expecting yourself to master it or to ever be "good" enough. Get your hands messy.

I don't want to shame anybody for not feeling as though they have free will or that they are exempt from exercising it. However, I wanted to give ideas so that you might read this list and find your own ways to express your intrinsic autonomy and will. You deserve to be a person, to feel alive, not just living. That is what our lives are for.

[lilislegacy]

percy’s view of himself: i’m so stupid and ugly and useless. i’m such a lame demigod

literally everyone else’s view of percy:

[ruporas]

dragon meat, you, and me

[lotus-pear]

SIGHHHH BSD REREAD…................I MISS THEM SO MUCH :(((

[not-so-rosyyy]

no idea if it's my hormones, what I've seen in the news lately, the weight of living the past few years, or just because it's Judi Dench...but this impromptu performance really made me cry for a good ten minutes, no kidding.

[yesokayiknow]

i hope that sometimes fifteen's psychic paper shorts out and shows what fourteen's thinking back on earth. he tries to sneak in somewhere and the guard's like this just says 'need to pick up cat food'? and fifteen's like 🥺 they got a cat

[o0kawaii0o]

Family

[otiksimr]

Favorite genre of picture, snakes wrapped around bird beaks.

[aueua]

people with siblings: how do you feel about them?

[mroddmod]

one of the very few to show the batch kindness back on kamino

[wasyago]

quiet hours

closeups under the cut :]

i really like these

[inkskinned]

you're in the habit of denying yourself things.

if someone asked you directly, you would say that you love a little treat. you like iced coffee and getting the cookie. you drink juice out of a fancy cup sometimes, and often do use your candles until they gutter out helplessly.

but you hesitate about buying the 20 dollar hand mixer because, like. you could just use your arms. you weren't raised rich. you don't get to just spend the 20 dollars (remember when that could cover lunch?), at least - you don't spend that without agonizing over it first, trying to figure out the cost-benefits like you are defending yourself in front of a jury. yes, this rice cooker could seriously help you. but you do know how to make stovetop rice and it really isn't that hard. how many pies or brownies would you actually make, in order to make that hand mixer worthwhile?

what's wild is that if the money was for a friend, it would already be spent. you'd fork over 40 without blinking an eye, just to make them happy. the difference is that it's for you, so you need to justify it.

and it sneaks in. you ration yourself without meaning to - you don't finish the pint of ice cream, even though you want to. the next time you go to the store, you say ah, i really shouldn't, and then you walk away. you save little bits of your precious things - just in case. sometimes you even go so far as putting that one thing in your shopping cart. and then just leaving it there, because maybe-one-day, but not right now, there's other stuff going on.

you do self-care, of course. but you don't do it more than like, 3 days in a row. after that it just feels a little bit over-the-edge. like. you can't live in decadence, the economy is so bad right now, kid.

so you don't buy the rice cooker. you can-and-will spend the time over the stove. you can withstand the little sorrows. denial and discipline are practically synonyms. and you're not spoiled.

it's just - it's not always a rice cooker. sometimes it is a person or a job or a hug. sometimes it is asking for help. sometimes it is the summer and your college degree. sometimes it is looking down at scabbed knees and feeling a strange kind of falling, like you can't even recognize the girl you used to be. sometimes it is your handprint looking unsteady.

sometimes it is tuesday, and you didn't get fired, and you want to celebrate. but what is it you like, even? you search around your little heart and come up empty. you're so used to denying that all your desires draw a blank.

oh fuck. see, this is the perfect opportunity. if you had a mixer, you'd make a cake.

[twilight-zoned-out]

Learning about the Doctor Who specials' expanded budget: oh no, what if they overuse CGI to look more 'professional' and high-budget?

The first scene of the Doctor Who Special: