#lucien hawthorne

[cheruv-ii]

"I'm not going anywhere.."

(Closeup on Ben under cut cause lowkey proud of him)

[multiversalfandomwriter222]

HEY

So, I haven't been writing at all, or updating. And I apologize for that! I have just been in a place of depression, and just haven't felt great all together. But! I'm feeling a little bit like me, and I can start writing and updating! But I've also started thinking of writing oneshots about book characters to get me back in the writing spirit. The book characters include:

Rhysand

Azriel

Cassian

Eris Vanserra

Lucien

Helion

Feyre Archeron

Nesta Archeron

Mor

Aaron Warner

Kenji Kishimoto

Dante Russo

Kai Young

Christian Harper

Rhys Larsen

Alex Volkov

Percy Jackson

Luke Castellan

Xaden Riorson

Jacks, Prince of Hearts

Grayson Hawthorne

Jameson Hawthorne

Draco Malfoy

Peeta Mellark

Cardan Greenbriar

And many more! So... What do you think? I will be starting with Azriel first! Just because, why not?

[zenkindoflove]

Elucien and Sarion Parallels

Ever since I finished HOFAS, I can't help but think of all the parallels between Elain x Lucien and Sathia x Tharion. It's definitely not a coincidence and it makes me have big high hopes for both ships in the future of their series. So I made a big list of all the ways their characters and situations are paralleling each other. HOFAS spoilers under the cut.

This is the most obvious parallel. Both Elucien and Sarion are strangers finding themselves in a romantic entanglement. Elucien's mating bond snaps as soon as they meet each other, effectively making them strangers who are soulmates. Sarion is a marriage of convenience trope, where before ever speaking to each other, they both agree to marry so that Sathia doesn't have to marry one of the Murder Twins. Both have to essentially get to know the other one under the circumstances of having a romantic bond between them.

Tropes Are Troping.

There are tons of similarities in the actual situations that Elucien and Sarion first meet. They are both in a throne room, standing in front of an evil Fae King who is putting Elain and Sathia in a very high-stakes, traumatizing, nonconsensual situation. Before Elain is turned Fae and before the mating bond snaps, Lucien protests what is happening to her, leading to his bondage. He breaks through the bonds once she is dumped onto the floor, running to her to cover her with his jacket to preserve her modesty and provide her with his protection. As the CC crew bargain for Sathia's freedom, which is going nowhere fast, Tharion offers himself to marry Sathia so that she doesn't have to be shackled to one of the Murder Twins forever. He's effectively, like Lucien, the only one who takes the extra step to protect her.

Meet Cute.

Given the trope that Elucien and Sarion are both in, both couples effectively belong to one another right from the start. Lucien and Elain are often referred to each other as mates and Lucien's internal thoughts claim her as his mate. "Mine. You are mine, and I am yours. Mate". In Tharion's POV, he very quickly labels her as his wife and seems comfortable embracing that label for her. Literally, one of my favorite parts about these tropes is how these romantic and intimate labels now have such a distinct and powerful punch against the background of the tension behind the trope.

My Wife/My Mate

This section really deserves a bullet point list because omg, there are so many parallels in these two characters.

Lucien and Tharion

-Redheads

-Flirty rakes who like to "dally"

-Depicted as having lots of low-commitment sexual encounters before they meet their love interest.

-This part of their characters seems to be a defense mechanism to protect their hearts.

-As soon as they do find their love interest which is an instant high-commitment, they are both singularly focused on them and loyal. Feyre states Lucien no longer enjoys the company of females now that he's a "mated male" and we no longer see Tharion flirting with or hooking up with any other characters.

-They're both self-loathing, broody sad dudes who don't have high opinions of their worth. Lucien: "I am seventh son of the Autumn Court" And a whole lot of nothing. Tharion: Captain Whatever. More like Captain Worthless.

-Both jump around in their allegiances after finding themselves in abusive power struggles. For both characters currently in their respective series, they've jumped from court/queens several times, and essentially find themselves aimless and without homes, relying on the generosity of their friends to hopefully take them in and see their worth.

-Both have had someone they love tragically taken from them that greatly affects their motivations and self-loathing.

TBH there are probably a ton more but this is just what I'm thinking of on the fly.

Elain and Sathia are a shorter list but I think that is only because we know less about them than Lucien and Tharion respectively.

Elain and Sathia

-Both are a more traditional feminine archetype. They're described as beautiful, petite, with many characteristics associated with upholding tradition and fulfilling more stereotypical feminine roles.

-Both are shown to value marriage and seek it out from men with power and influence. Elain with Graysen and Sathia in the HOSAB bonus chapter when she asks about Cormac.

-Both fall madly in love with their first love. Sathia says her separation from Collin is her "Ordeal". Elain is shown to be horribly depressed and desperately runs to find Graysen the first opportunity she gets. As Sathia does once she sees Collin again.

-Both are described as having some "vapid" traits that makes people underestimate them. Elain's interests in gardening and cooking is dismissed. Sathia is described as a fairly stereotypical rich and prissy girl who Ruhn thinks only cares about her manicures and clothes.

-Speaking of that underestimation, we see at different points in their series that characters around them are often surprised when they reveal that they are actually quite intelligent, thoughtful, and brave.

-Both have a moment of "standing up" for their love interest. Elain's famous "His name is Lucien" line and Sathia standing up to the Viper Queen on behalf of Tharion when they meet her in the alley.

-There is of course a bit of a difference between them. Elain is described as being more timid. Ruhn refers to Sathia as "a predator". So they both take a bit different approaches to how they fit into their social groups.

Elucien and Sarion both enter into their romance trope with other love interests either in their pasts or currently that they're involved with. Lucien has Jesminda, who he still loves deeply and mourns her death. Elain has Graysen, who she is engaged to but her turning Fae puts a big wedge in their relationship. Sathia isn't with Collin but clearly still loves him. It's unclear how far their relationship ever got. Tharion is the only one who is emotionally "unattached" but he is very much still in the web of the River Queen's daughter and his 10-year long engagement of duress to her.

It's complicated.

In both cases, Tharion and Lucien are effectively unattached. Maybe it's complicated but they are more free and open to the bond they now have to this stranger. Elain and Sathia are not, however. Both Elain and Sathia show that they still have a deep commitment to their former loves and take similar actions by giving into their most romantic fantasies and running after their first loves to try and save the relationship. We know for Elain, that her seeking out Graysen was the nail in the coffin for them. With Sathia, her situation with Collin is left very open ended. But both are full of angst and both show that Elain and Sathia are very romantic at heart and commit deeply to the men that they love. Both Tharion and Lucien are shown to be very understanding and not possessive of Sathia and Elain. Lucien is not present for Elain seeing Graysen but he gives her space to work through her feelings and it's known he's met Graysen and doesn't think highly of him yet its implied he has left him alone. Tharion does not go after Sathia as soon as she leaves to find Collin and even hopes that should he die she'd be free to marry Collin if he can get away from the Viper Queen.

She is still in love with her ex.

Now we don't know how Elain or Sathia truly feel for Lucien and Tharion. We have neither of their POVs. We do however see Tharion and Lucien's POVs and at least based on actions alone, Lucien is clearly more interested in pursuing the mating bond than Elain is at the moment. When Sathia leaves to find Collin, Tharion spends a lot of time with her letter and its said he can't stop thinking about her as he makes his way to help Bryce with defeating the Asteri.

He falls first.

Lucien and Tharion both go to "rescue" their love interest. Lucien desperately wants to leave Spring to make sure that Elain is okay after her trauma in Hybern. He still doesn't trust the Night Court and has no idea what they're doing to her. He crosses Prythian with Feyre, going into Autumn Court where he knows they could kill him on the spot and where he experienced some of his worst traumas. But he braves it all just so he can see Elain once and make sure she's okay. He's fully aware she has a fiance and may not want anything to do with him. Tharion, after the Asteri are defeated, is seen in his last chapter of HOFAS returning back to the Meat Market where the Viper Queen holds a bounty on his head and essentially owned him as her slave. But he returns so he can make sure that Sathia is not in danger. Similar to Lucien, he's returning to the place of his trauma, risking it all with little expectations that Sathia will "choose him"

Damsels in distress.

Lucien is an emissary and he is well known for his social skills. Elain similarly has been described as being very charming and sociable, able to befriend servants or nobles. It's a common head canon amongst Eluciens that Elain and Lucien, once they start spending time together, will find themselves in a situation where they have to act as emissaries and Elain will impress Lucien with her natural skills. We see this scenario play out with Tharion and Sathia when they try to convince the River Queen to protect some of Crescent City's most vunerable members. Tharion is impressed at how skilled Sathia is when talking to the queen, able to charm and "speak her language" which is that of nobility and politeness.

Emissaries.

Prediction: I have a feeling that not only are both Elucien and Sarion end game, but I think their end game is going to be mirror images of where they started. Elucien started with a mating bond and I think they will fall in love and choose to marry each other. And the reverse, Sarion started with a marriage but I also think they will fall in love and the mating bond will snap between them. It would just be such a cute additional parallel to how SJM has set up their characters and story arcs.

[goodbyemayfly]

art dump.... (full photos below)

[thelov3lybookworm]

Top 5 book boyfriends?

mm pookie ily for this 🤭 so glad you asked hehe 🥹

okay so in no particular order

Nathaniel Thorn

Casteel Da'Neer

Lucien Vanserra

Azriel

Grayson Hawthorne

[wrongcog]

I'm so sorry to have kept you all waiting on the requests, however I hope that now you see what I've been working on, you might understand why it took some time!! Especially when I've been working on this only in the evening, and while trying to keep my tiny human alive!

When I started this, it was originally a combination of requests/characters I really like! and somehow I ended up with 62 of them!! I'm hoping maybe in the future Ill revisit this, maybe try get 100?! But for now I'm glad to be able to take a break and start on other projects!!

This was really a labor of love, and I really hope you all like it as well! I did try my hardest to get as many details as I could, but I did take a few uniform liberty's here and there!! I hid a few little movie and game Easter eggs in there as well, let me know if you spot any!

And for those interested… Gryfindor - 12 Hufflepuff - 12 Ravenclaw - 15 Slytherin - 23

BOTTOM ROW (Left to right) Millie Claire @the-ozzie Lyla Estaris @kerimcberry Faustine Daemon @faustinio27 Matty Ambrose @girl-named-matty Philip Brown @endeavour12345 Siobhan Moriarty @wrongcog Courtney Brookson @CourtneyB22 Clora @choccy-milky Noelle Kasper @noelles-legacy Jamie Ambrose @rypnami

2ND ROW Gideon Smith @betheckart Sally Salamander @siboom777 Ida Ullson @limonnitsa Mara Ambrose @boxdstars Lamie Boo @lamieboo Pearl Castellar @vienguinn William Abbott @lil-grem-draws

3RD ROW Aphrodite Macbeath @venomousvio Lorrain Morgana @lorrainmorgan Eden Mars @juicegarrethfizzy Bear Whiteclaw @wit-grizzly Lucien Morningstar @ronlong6969 Amelia Goldstein @ameliathefatcat Elizabeth Philbrick @operation-pez

4TH ROW Hellendil Melinae @theravenchild Ester Merigold @icarus-wing5 Rohan Mac Uáid @ariparri Siyana Devonshire @dat-silvers-girl Ren Aries @localravenclaw Lady Primrose Gray @endlessly-cursed Evelyn Caddel @celestial--sapphic Jess Burke @serpentsillusion Oriona Blackshire @enotracoon

5TH ROW Aida Morgenstern @queen-of-stoneharts Lydia Parkinson @esolean Kate Mayflower @sunnyrealist Wisteria Ashworth @the-ashworths Aishwarya Merha @hogwarts9 Ariadne Enberg @necromary Eric Schall @yunaatay

6TH ROW Stella Taposok @a-florable Astarion Danar @kipthealien Alyssabeth Edwards @silvyadrakkon Winter Blackstone @moonstruckmoony Marvin Jerry @runicxraven Ruth Senet @phinik Karina Angeline Mayadytha @raraaf6

7TH ROW April Miller @lynnsartsworld Inger Eve Nilsdott @ethniee Morana Dimm @coffeeandmagicaltales Evelyne Lavandin @libellule-ao3 Julia Wright @superconductivebean Kanan McGarry @theguythatdraws Willow Rose Hawthorne @seb-sallow-girl Anwen Elmstone @serpensortiamaxima

8TH ROW Lou Brooke @m0mmat0rtle Layla Stark @marvelxlevram Zorro Del Toro @zorro-d-t Deirdre Neylan @cordidy Rydian Black @rydian-black Isaac Cooper @slytherin-paramour Cherise Sallow @thatslytherinqueen

[berryz-writes]

𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐿𝒾𝓈𝓉

Main blog : @berryzxx

Requests are currently open!! <33

𝒜𝒞𝒪𝒯𝒜𝑅

Azriel

Game Night (Fluff, Game night with your mate and the IC) Better than cupcakes (Az is your mate and you're oblivious to it. Wanting him to try one of your treats could lead to disaster) Jealousy part 1 (You're forced to spend the weekend with the bane of your existence but little do you realize he doesn't completely hate you) Jealousy part 2 It's always going to be you (Az starts to spend more time with Elain and you distance yourself- apologizing/fluff ) You are divine (he's been busy on a mission and you've missed him so much. Will you reveal your feelings?) Not yet (you're not ready to tell Az's family you're mates in fear of them not liking you ) To Have And To Hold...Till Death Do Us Part (Azriel has spent decades centuries on trying to find his mate. A mate is supposed to be that one constant person in you're life. But as we all know Azriel was damned to an unlucky fate) Peace (Azriel finally finds some peace with you in the morning. Literally just fluff) 

Azriel appreciation week: 2024

Blue (There's a large contrast between the warm and gentle Az you get to enjoy versus the cold and quiet demeanour he reserves for others) day 1 Maps (Azriels daughter finds his scars far more interesting than the map you're trying to show her, indirectly healing a part of Azriel he had left in the dark) day 2

Lucien

Home (Lucien and you are finally living the dream. A new house and the love of your life with you, what else could you ask for?)

𝐻𝒫

-headcanons

Draco Malfoy Theodore Nott Mattheo Riddle Mattheo x Hufflepuff reader Enzo Berkshire

Theodore Nott

Forgive me (You and Theo are in an argument and he tries to apologies but you don't listen, until he tries something different) Hogsmeade (a small argument with theo, fluff) I'll try harder (based off the 11th headcanon. He's been in the infirmary one too many times) You're mine sweetheart (Theo is the only one who can make you feel better after a shit day) It's only a game (convincing moody theo to have a snowball fight)

Mattheo Riddle

Cold nights (He has a hard time as usual sleeping but with you he might be able to) Perfectly serious (Mattheo can't keep his feelings and jealousy in check when he see's you with another guy) Faking it part 1 (fake dating the guy you like won't be too hard...right?)

Draco Malfoy

Darling, I'm yours part 1 (best friends in love except both of you are oblivious)

𝒯𝐼𝒢

-headcanons

Grayson Hawthorne Grayson Hawthorne- when he was younger Hathorne headcanons- if they had a younger sister

Grayson Hawthorne

Lazy Mornings (Waking up with you is the best thing possible, which is why he tries to keep you in bed longer, fluff) Completely fine (You're injured and Grayson is pissed, not at you but at himself) Special treatment (Grayson see's a black cat and adopts it while drunk, surprising you with it) You're the only one for me part 1 (You find something suspicious on Grayson's phone. During your argument you get hurt, will he be able to fix things?) You're the only one for me part 2

[pupsmailbox]

GOTH ID PACK

NAMES ⌇　abby. ace. addam. alister. amelia. amoret. ange. angel. angelo. anubis. arch. archette. ash. aslan. aspen. astor. astoria. astrophel. atticus. axelle. azazel. azrael. bael. bat. batsy. bella. bellatrix. blade. blair. blanchette. brahms. branwen. cain. callan. calliope. cannibelle. caskeite. casketta. caskette. caspian. celeste. celestia. chaos. charlotte. cherry. chira. chiraelle. chiro. chiroptairre. chiroptelle. chiropteranne. choir. christian. cofette. coffin. coffine. constantine. corbin. corpse. crimson. crow. crowley. damian. damien. demonesse. divina. dorian. draven. edgar. elatha. elijah. elix. elwin, elwin. elwood. ember. emmaline. etienne. evan. evangeline. eve. faith. forest. forrest. frill. frille. frilleine. frilliette. frilly. genesis. ghost. gothita. gothitelle. gothitess. gothitesse. grey. gwen. gypsy. hades. hawthorne. hecate. hemlock. imortalle. imortella. iris. israel. jakob. jet. jett. johnas. josiah. judas. kain. kane. kedi. keir. lacey. laciene. laciette. lazarus. leo. lilith. lilithe. lolita. lucid. lucien. lucifer. lucius. luscious. lynx. maeve. malice. mana. martyr. max. melancholy. merle. micah. michael. misery. mordred. morris. mors. morte. mortis. mourge. mourgette. myrette. nightshade. noah. noctre. nocturne. noir. obsidian. oleander. omen. onyx. orion. orpheus. ozul. ozzy. prince. prophet. raven. ravenie. raveniette. rook. rowan. ruby. saber. saint. salem. samael. samuel. scarlet. secrette. seraph. serenity. shilo. shiloh. silas. silver. silvester. skelly. skulliene. skulliette. skully. sorrow. sylvester. syn. thorn. thorne. tobias. tommy. trix. umbriel. valkyrie. valo. vervain. vesper. victoria. ville. violetta. vito. vlad. woundie. zeon. zephyrine.

PRONOUNS ⌇　abby/abby. ae/aer. ash/ash. bat/bat. bleed/bleed. blood/blood. book/book. bug/bug. burn/burn. chain/chain. chap/chapel. chill/chill. claw/claw. cloud/cloud. cob/cobweb. cof/coffin. coffin/coffin. corps/corpse. creep/creep. cri/cross. cro/cros. cross/cross. cross/crosse. da/dark. dae/dae. dae/daem. dark/dark. decay/decay. dee/dark. des/despair. devout/devout. div/divine. dust/dust. echo/echo. edge/edgy. en/envie. fae/fang. fang/fang. fe/fear. fie/fiend. fog/fog. fri/frill. frill/frill. ghost/ghost. ghoul/ghoul. gore/gore. goth/goth. goth/gothic. gra/grave. grave/grave. ha/haunt. halo/halo. hie/hiem. ho/holy. holy/holy. horn/horn. hx/hxm. hy/hym. ink/ink. lace/lace. lae/lace. lost/lost. mist/mist. moon/moon. net/fishnet. ni/night. night/night. null/null. par/parasol. parasol/parasol. pray/pray. pray/prayer. proph/prophet. ro/rose. rose/rose. rot/rot. rust/rust. sac/sacrifice. saint/saint. scar/scar. shx/hxr. shy/hyr. si/sinister. sin/sin. sku/skull. skull/skull. snake/snake. spider/spider. spike/spike. sto/storm. stud/stud. thou/thorn. thron/thorn. thxy/thxm. vae/vaer. ve/ver. velvet/velvet. vo/void. whis/whisper. whisper/whisper. witch/witch. wood/wood. x/x. xae/xaer. × . ♠️ . ♣️ . ⚰️ . ⛓️ . �� . 💀 . 🕯 . 🕷 . 🕸 . 🖤 . 🥀 . 🦇 .

[sapchat]

We Are Not Our Fathers, But I Am Yours

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Back by quite literal popular demand: It’s been a few months since you and Az have taken Hawthorne in, and now he has questions about what you guys are to him.

Warnings: I say bastard once. We talk about Azriel's lovely father and the rest of his family. oo I mention that Elain and Lucien had a weird relationship, but just saying "whatever they got going on"

Words: 2.8k

Part One

You're Reading Part Two!!(2)

“How is it, being a mother?” Feyre asked while watching Hawthorne play with little Nyx. The six-year-old, whilst bigger than the one-and-a-half-year-old, still knew to be gentle enough to play.

“It’s… nice, I mean I know I’m not his actual mother. But it’s weird, in the last couple of months I feel like I’d do anything to protect him, I mean honestly, I’d probably sacrifice Az to protect him.” I say, giving a chuckle towards the end.

“I know, Rhys and I said the same thing with Nyx. I mean you remember how Rhys was while I was pregnant, but the minute that little boy got here. It was game over for us both.” Feyre said smiling at the little boys.

We sat drinking our tea a little more watching them play in Elain’s garden before she turned to me again.

“I know that you guys are unofficially planning on moving to Windhaven once he’s eight, so he can be trained. Me and Rhys want you guys in his mother’s house. I know you will be back and forth but instead of getting your guys’ own place, just use it.”

I look at Feyre tears in my eyes from what she and Rhys are offering, then grab her hand, “Thank you guys, I’ll be sure to tell Az when we get home.”

“How is the spymaster doing with this… adjustment?” The High Lady asked a small glint in her eye.

I’d taken to the adjustment quite quickly, as I had already been playing caregiver before we had decided. Azriel was adjusting a little slower. I couldn’t tell if it was due to the lack of parental figures in his younger years, or because of how quickly it went from me and him, to me him and a child.

“He’s,” a quick pause, “Adjusting. It’s been slow, and he’s more awkward than usual. Hawthorne pretty quickly accepted that I was essentially a mother to him. But with Az, I don’t know. Hawthorne had a father who protected him for five years, and then we showed up and told him he wouldn’t see him again. He still calls him Azriel, or Azzie, or a variation of that. And whilst he hasn’t called me his mother it’s like it’s on the tip of his tongue.” I tell her honestly.

I mean we never truly expected him to see us as his parents, but it’s still weird having a child call you by name. Nothing with aunt or uncle in front of it or anything either.

“I think it’ll be okay. Hawthorne knows you both love him, and you both care for him and protect him. You get that and Azriel gets that. He couldn’t have two better parents.” Feyre tells me reassuringly. It seemed like she was going to add something else but then Hawthrone ran over, Nyx stumbling after him.

“Can we have cake now Aunty Feyre?” Hawthorne asked looking from his spot at her knees batty his dark eyelashes.

The child really could pass for our child if it came down to it. The same Illyrian features, hazel eyes, dark almost black hair, and golden skin. There have been times when we walked down the street after collecting him from the Velaris school that people had stopped and awed at how cute of a family we were. How our son was so cute and a carbon copy of his father.

Taking the smiles, they receive as thanks; they don’t notice how tense we become. How I glance at my mate, and he just glances down, some distant look in his eye that I can’t describe.

“That’s not up to me,” Feyre says nodding her head in my direction. The little boy looked at me, eyes gleaming in hope.

“Come on little shadow, let’s see if Aunt Elain and the twins have lunch for us,” I say standing and straightening my pantsuit out. I took his hand and waited for Feyre to pick up the little prince and we went into the Townhouse.

Nuala, Cerridwen, and Elain greeted us, pouring some tea into glasses, and watered-down juice into small cups for the boys. Hawthorne ran excitedly to the three in the kitchenette, and looked into Elain’s brown eyes, “You have snacks?”

Elain smiled down at the boy, smiling down at the little Illyrian. “We do have snacks. But I don’t know if you get to have any.” She said, joy glinting in her eyes at pestering the little boy.

Hawthorne looked stunned at her for a second, as if he couldn’t believe he was being denied something, and quickly turned to me, “Aunt Elain’s being mean!”

We all laughed as the little boy pouted in disbelief, even more so when he saw us all laughing. His foot stomped the ground, his wings flaring a little.

The laughing calmed a little as Rhys, Cass, and Az entered the house. They stood in the doorway watching all of us standing around looking at a little grumpy Illyrian.

The child looked at the three males and ran over to Azriel slamming into his legs. He placed a hand lightly on his back and looked around in question. “They’re being mean to me Azzie!”

At that Rhys let out a laugh, Cassian joining in. My mate looked at me in question, “Is there a reason I have a grumpy child hiding in my legs?”

“He’s just trying to get snacks for our lunch. Which he wouldn’t expect that unless someone kept letting him sneak some.” I told him, lightly glaring in his direction, but sent love down the bond nonetheless.

Azriel picked the boy up, his wings fluttering away as he did. “She’s right, you have to eat your lunch before sweets.” Hawthorne looked at Azriel in shock.

“But you and Uncle Cassin always give snacks like that before dinner!” Everyone turned to look at the two in question, a little glimmer of amusement shining through.

Feyre looked to me with humor all over her face, “Well, now we know why he hardly eats his lunch and dinner now.”

It was later in the evening; you were trying to give the boy a quick little bath. He was mainly just splashing around. Azriel watched with amusement as you tried to run a cloth over him.

“You could help you know. I mean how did Rhys’ mother give all of you baths.” I say huffing wiping sweaty hair from my face. You were going to need a bath after this.

Azriel had a small smile on his usual blank face, “She usually gave up after the first five minutes. I’m surprised you’ve tried this for as long as you have.”

Having the child around has made him more emotionally viewable. Where he used to only show how he felt, few and far between, now it’s more common. Sitting on your heels you let an exhausted sigh leave.

“You know little thorn in my side,” You say pinching his nose, he laughs in response, “I’m just going to sit over here and when you deem yourself clean let me know.” The dark-haired boy nodded and went back to playing immediately.

You walked over and sat by Az, leaning your head against him. “Who knew raising a little Illyrian was such work.”

Azriel leaned his head down letting out a huff of a laugh. “Imagine more than one in a house.” And you did, just for a second. But it wasn’t Rhys, Cassian, or Azriel you were picturing. It was Hawthorne and a few others. Some that did look like Azriel and one that looked like you. You pictured it long enough that you must have somehow sent what you were thinking down the bond. Because Azriel sent nothing but joy and love back.

“Let’s get this one situated first,” Azriel whispered, arm wrapping around you. You smiled up at him, excitement glistening in your eyes.

By the time you sent Azriel to put the kid to bed, you stayed back to clean up the mess in the bathroom. By the time you got to the boys’ room, you could hear them talking.

“Why don’t I have ears like her?” It was Hawthorne asking the question, and it made you pause in confusion.

“Because she’s what is called High-Fae, and you’re an Illyrian. Like me.” There was shuffling, Azriel must have been tucking him in.

“So… does that mean she can’t be my mom?” It was a quiet question, and silence followed after it.

“What makes you say that little shadow?”

“Well, if I’m like you, and she’s not like us. Then she can’t be my mom, right? Like Nyx. Aunt Feyre and Uncle Rhys both have pointy ears, just like Nyx.”

“You don’t have to look like someone for them to be family. Just like me and your uncles don’t look alike, they’re still my brothers. Just like she can still be your mom. Now, it’s time for you to get to bed.” You smiled, and quickly wiped your face before entering the room.

“What are we still doing up little soldier?” You walked over to him and took Az’s spot on the bed. Hawthrone smiled at you, peeking out from under the covers.

You tucked him in just a little tighter, leaned over and gave him a kiss on the head then brushed his hair from his face.

You sat for a second, looking at your little joy, then whispered goodnight, and just when you went to shut the door you heard it. “Goodnight mama.”

Holding back your tears just a little, you turned back and said, “Goodnight little shadow.” Then shut the door. And turned to Azriel's chest to shed some of the tears.

“Come on,” he whispered, “Let’s get you cleaned up and then to bed.”

You had picked Hawthrone up from school a few days later when he asked you a question.

“You and Azriel are together, right?” It surprised you; it was an odd question for a six-year-old. “Like… Like Aunty Feyre and Uncle Rhys?”

“Yes. Just like them, me and Azriel are mates. You remember what mates are right?” I said holding his hand as we walked down the sidewalk by the Sidra. You and Azriel had talked to him about a few things before you guys could get him in a school. So, he could know who his family would be, and about some of the world.

He nodded his head, he knew the story of me and Azriel, at least as kid friendly as you could get with Az’s job. I mean you yourself were only a healer at the school before meeting the Inner Circle. Then Madja recruited you to help with what few kids came through her shop. After about three years you were Madja’s right-hand man, thus introducing you to the Inner Circle for all their bumps and bruises. So Hawthrone knew you two were mates, like Feyre and Rhysand, and Nesta and Cassian. Whilst Elain and Lucien’s dynamic still confused him a little.

“So, if you’re my mother, does that make Az my father?” You almost stumbled at the question. Azriel had struggled in the first few weeks of having Hawthrone, he didn’t have good parental figures, so trying to play dad to a kid was a struggle.

With Nyx he had no issue, he could play uncle, be there for a few hours but at the end of the day Nyx went back to his own parents.

“Do you want Azriel to be your father?” I asked a little hesitant, I didn’t want to cause any issue for Az, or Hawthorne. It hadn’t been that long ago that you guys got him out of a bad situation in an Illyrian camp. From his own father.

“I don’t know. I know he likes me now. Before it was… strange,”

“Confusing, you’re looking for the word confusing.”

“Cun-fushion.”

“Well, if you’re really confused then you could ask him. He always tells you that you can tell him anything. The same goes for asking questions. That’s called communicating.” Hawthorne sounded the word out to himself, then sat for a minute in thought. Right as you were about to ask him a question he perked up, wings twitching.

“Oo oo oo can we stop and get sweets!” You’ve got to pick a different path to walk along.

“We’re home-!”

“We got sweets!!”

“We got sweets! Hawthorne those were supposed to be a surprise.” Setting the box of treats down on the table of the River House you followed the tiny stuttering of feet flying through the house in the direction of the rest of the voices.

You found some of the family in the sitting room and joined Azriel on the arm of his chair. Hawthorne was already telling Elain about his very eventful day at school, using his arms to explain it better.

I leaned over just slightly so Az could hear me, “He was asking some questions on the walk here.”

Azriel turned and looked at me, a look of almost fear in his eyes. Then furrowed his eyebrows in question.

“Nothing serious was just asking if we were together, a few other things I’ll tell you alone.”

“He asked if we were together?” I laughed a little then ran a hand through his hair looking at my boy.

“Yea, I thought the same thing. Asked if it was the same way as Rhys and Feyre.”

“Was it serious? What he asked, which is why you don’t want to tell me here.” There’s that wariness that Azriel always had regarding us.

“Just… something I figured we could talk to him about later, about parentage.” Azriel is all but locked up at that. Hands that had been clasped together moved to hide almost, shadows coming to drape over him a little. One moved to join Hawthorne and wrapping around him. “Just the basics, but it could be time to tell him something though, before we all go to Windhaven.”

Azriel nodded his head, distress flowing down the bond, I sent reassurance back.

By the time dinner was done, the sweets were eaten, and everyone went off to their respective houses. You met Hawthorne and Azriel in his room with some cocoa. Whipp cream and cinnamon on top.

“Wanna know how I got these marks on my hands?” Hawthorne glanced down at Azriel’s hand, then to his face, an indescribable look on his little face. Then he slightly nodded.

“I was born to a lord in a camp. My mother wasn’t with him though, remember how you had called me a bastard when we first met?” Hawthorne nodded guiltily, “It’s okay, that’s what it’s called when your mother and father have a kid without being together. My father’s wife didn’t like it, didn’t like me.” Azriel took a deep breath, and I handed him a cup, so he had something to fidget with.

“They had two other sons, older that didn’t like. Since they didn’t like me, they kept me locked away in… my bedroom,” the safest option rather than a ‘dungeon’ “One day, my brothers decided to test how well we could heal…. By the time my father’s guards got there, it was too late, and the fire did this.”

“Did your father do anything to stop them from being mean to you…?” Hawthorne silently asked Azriel, looking at his hands and then back to his face.

“No. My father was a really bad man. Really mean too. Kept me away from people and from flying, but when they found out I could talk with the shadows, they took me to the camp we’ll go to when you’re older. And I met your Uncle Rhys and Uncle Cassian, and Aunt Mor.” Azriel told him, Hawthorne glanced in my direction now.

“Was my father like yours was?” Hawthorne asked me, Azriel eyes widened a little, I opened my mouth to answer and reassure him but Azriel beat me to hit.

“No! You are nothing like your father. Understood?” Hawthorne nodded, “Just like I’m not my father.”

Hawthorne sat for a second, even more silent than usual when pondering a question.

“Are… are you, my father? Like she’s my Mother?” A silent tear dripped down your mate's face, almost matching the ones building in your own.

“I am nothing like either of our fathers. And whilst I might not be the one who created you, your father, I can be your father. If you’ll allow me to.” Hawthorne’s eyes watered up then flung himself into Azriels’ arms, wings trying to wrap around him. Azriel hugged back and wrapped his own wings around him, as you sat taking in the scene.

He stood from his hugging position and took your hand, and the three of you went just two doors down to your own room. Where the three of you slept, you on the left, Azriel on the right, and just under Azriel’s wing and under your arms was Hawthorne. The little dark-haired, hazel-eyed Illyrian slept soundly, between his two parents.

Like it, tell me how you feel, share it with your friends. Share it with your grandma. Share it with the weird guy that lives at the end of the street who knows way too much about the K.G.B

Side note if you made it this far please dear god tell me what you would get the IC for solstice/Christmas presents. I have ideas for them all but Rhys. Please it can be on anom or anything 😂

[goforth-ladymidnight]

For @achaotichuman, from me! 🎅Happy @acotargiftexchange!

You asked for:

Canon-compliant (ish) post-ACOFAS/ACOSF

Tamcien

Angst

Mutual Pining

Hurt/Comfort

I hope I delivered! ✨🎁

Full disclosure: This was supposed to be a one-shot, but, uh... I got carried away. 😅At this point, I just know it's going to be multiple chapters. So, um... Merry Christmas to you!! 🎄

Thank you for giving me so much freedom with this story! While it's not specifically a holiday fic, I did give it a Winter Solstice setting. (Happy Solstice, by the way!) And thank you for your patience for this very last-minute reveal.

I hope you enjoy!

THE WOLF AND THE FOX

Ch. 1/?

Pairing: Tamlin x Lucien

Wordcount: 2.1k

Summary: It's the day of Winter Solstice, and while Lucien has an obligation to visit the Night Court, he decides to visit Tamlin in the Spring Court first to deliver a very important message.

The first chapter is available to read on AO3 now, or you can read it here below the cut:

Part 1: Winter

* * *

It was the beginning of winter when the fox approached the wolf’s den.

* * *

The vines were new.

The last time Lucien had visited the Spring Court manor, the claw marks in the door were the first thing anyone saw. A warning, perhaps, of what could happen if anyone dared to knock. Now, however, tangled vines grew, hiding the gouges—and the door knockers—from view. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought the vines meant that nature was healing the broken manor. But he did know better. Nature was taking over.

Lucien pushed on one of the doors, and it creaked where he pressed, straining against the green vines that clung to it.

“Tam?” he called through the narrow opening. “Tam, are you in there?”

Silence.

He pushed harder, and the vines snapped and snarled as they fell, releasing their hold on the door before falling into a rustling heap at his feet. It even seemed as though they sighed, but he could have been imagining it. The door swung slowly open, so Lucien took a deep breath and tugged at the hem of his embroidered jacket before stepping across the broken threshold.

His golden eye whirred against the dim light, but he didn’t need it to see. He knew the room very well. Or, at least, he used to.

Here was the black-and-white marble floor, once shining, now covered in dust and debris. There was the winding staircase with the oak banister that seemed to be held aloft by delicate vines made of brass, now badly in need of a polish. And there, there used to be a table that held enormous vases of freshly plucked flowers from the garden: hydrangeas, peonies, tulips, roses… The Lady of Spring’s roses.

But that table was broken now. It had been whole once, strong enough to hold a broken body… a winged faerie with no wings…

Lucien shivered at the memory and turned away.

Rosehall Manor was empty, yet full of so many memories… Memories, and ghosts.

Lucien squared his shoulders and looked around for the one that was neither man nor ghost. He was looking for a beast.

“Tam?” he called out again, and his voice echoed. “Tamlin Hawthorn, High Lord of Spring, I seek an audience with you.”

“An audience,” a familiar voice echoed, drifting from the top of the stairs. “How formal of you.”

Lucien lifted his head, but saw no one. His metal eye could see through glamours, but the owner of that deep, growling voice didn’t need one. Not when the manor was filled with so many shadows.

“Tell me: What is the occasion?” the voice went on, though it rasped a bit, as if it hadn’t been used in a while. “I need to know if I should serve wine or whiskey to my guest.”

Lucien swallowed. “It’s Solstice, Tam,” he managed.

“Summer, or Winter?”

Lucien’s shoulders sagged a bit. “It’s Winter, Tam.”

“Ah. Winter,” Tamlin mused distantly. “Whiskey, it is, then.”

Before Lucien could respond, Tamlin called out, “Alis? A glass of my finest whiskey for the Night Court’s finest emissary… What’s that? You say you’ve returned to the Summer Court? As has everyone else in the manor? Oh, yes. Yes, I see.”

Lucien rolled his good eye, but his host didn’t seem to notice.

“It would seem that I have no servants left to serve you,” Tamlin said dryly. “Or whiskey to serve. Or glasses to serve it in, for that matter.”

It seemed to Lucien that the dark shape at the top of the stairs sank down like a cat and crossed its massive paws.

“So, in light of the circumstances, perhaps we should dispense with the formalities, so that you may be on your way… to enjoy the rest of the Night Court’s most auspicious holiday.”

“Tam, this is serious,” Lucien chided. “I need to speak with you.”

“And I need to finish my nap before I go hunting tonight, so make it quick.”

Lucien took a deep, albeit exasperated, breath and shook his head in resignation. “Fine. It’s about Feyre.”

Any amusement in the beast’s voice, however mild, vanished in an instant. “What about Feyre?”

“You haven’t heard?”

“You haven’t told me.”

Lucien spread his fingers wide. “Before I tell you, you should know—”

“Is she dead?”

Lucien sighed. “She’s with child.”

A long pause. “I see.”

“I just…” Lucien lifted his hands, then let them fall. “I thought it would be better if you heard it from me.”

“And I suppose you thought I would be grateful.” There was a sneer in Tamlin’s tone, but it softened when he asked, “Is she happy?”

“I would assume so.”

“And her mate?”

“You already know the answer to that question.”

“Yes,” Tamlin mused quietly. “I am surprised that he didn’t come down here himself to gloat.”

“Rumor has it he was too busy doing just that in the Hewn City last night,” Lucien said wryly, then cleared his throat. “But I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t invited.”

“What a coincidence. Neither was I.”

Lucien’s lips twitched into a smile. For a moment, it was like old times… but his smile faded as he remembered the other reason he had come. “I have business in the Night Court tonight. Are there any messages you wish to convey?”

“If you expect me to offer up my congratulations, you can piss off,” Tamlin snarled, all traces of friendliness gone. “I have nothing more to say; to you, or to them.” The beastly shape rose to its feet. “Now get out, and take your formalities with you.”

“Tam, wait,” Lucien said, starting for the stairs.

A sharp growl stopped him short. “It may be Solstice, but that does not mean you can enter my home uninvited. Do so again, and you will find thorns in your boots. I still have that much power, I can assure you.”

Lucien’s toes curled at the thought, but he reached into his jacket pocket anyway. “It’s just—I have something for you.”

“If this is another message from Night—”

Lucien pulled a small envelope out of his pocket. “It’s an invitation.”

“To what.”

“To a party,” Lucien said simply. “With the Band of Exiles,” he added, and held it out.

There was a long, long pause. “Why,” was all the beast said.

“Because it’s Solstice,” Lucien said gently. “And you’re my friend.”

When Tamlin remained still, and silent, Lucien stepped forward—slowly—and carefully placed the envelope on top of the flat swirled handrail at the bottom of the stairs.

As he stepped back, he continued, “I know I should have given it to you sooner, but… I had hoped…” He shrugged, struggling to find the words. “I thought you might invite me here like you did last year,” he admitted at last.

Now that his good eye was fully adjusted to the dim light, he could see the gleam of the beast’s green gaze as it fell on the creamy envelope.

“To do what, exactly,” Tamlin said flatly.

Lucien shrugged again. “To celebrate. To be together.”

“As we once were?” Tamlin finished mockingly.

Lucien’s face flushed.

“Those days are over,” Tamlin said coolly. “You know that. You’ve known that ever since the night of the Masquerade Ball.”

Lucien took a step forward. “Tam…”

“Don’t.” He said it so sharply that Lucien actually fell back a step. “I am still High Lord, and you do not have my permission to approach.”

Lucien’s jaw tightened. “I thought you hated formalities.”

“And I thought you had business to attend to… at the Night Court.”

Lucien snorted in disgust and looked away. “Very well, if you must know, Feyre invited me to spend the evening with her and her family… for Solstice.”

“Is that right.”

Lucien looked to the top of the stairs, but the rest of Tamlin’s beastly expression was still well-hidden by shadow. “My mate is going to be there,” he said flatly. “I have to go. If there is a chance that someone out there wants me…”

“I never said I didn’t want you.”

Lucien blinked against the sudden blurriness in his right eye. His left eye was always clear. Clear and cold and mechanical. Pity that his heart couldn’t be the same.

Tamlin continued, “I only said it would be best if we… remained friends.”

Lucien swiped away a stray tear from his cheek with his thumb. “Is that all we were?” he asked evenly. “Friends?”

Several—painful—heartbeats passed before Tamlin answered. “The Cauldron has finally blessed you with a mate,” he said quietly. “After everything you’ve been through… You deserve it. It’s what you’ve always wanted—”

“Not always.”

In that moment, the golden thread of fate that bound him to someone else seemed to grow slack. He took a tentative step forward, and Tamlin did not rebuke him.

Lucien reached out and laid his hand on the banister, next to the unopened invitation. “The party is tomorrow night, at Northwall Manor,” he said gently. “It’s just going to be me, and Jurian, and Vassa… Will you come?”

Lucien’s heart rose as Tamlin seemed to be considering it… but it fell when Tamlin finally answered.

“The Spring Court cannot withstand another attack from another Archeron sister,” he said flatly. “Elain is bound to you, just as Feyre is bound to Rhys.”

Lucien shook his head. “Tam…”

“You saw what Feyre did when I tried to sever her bond,” Tamlin snapped. “To get closer to your mate, you helped her. You chose her over me. You chose them both over me.”

Lucien’s chest grew tight. “As if you didn’t choose Ianthe over me.”

Tamlin growled. “I did what I thought was right… for Feyre.”

“So did I.”

Tamlin’s green-eyed glare seemed to glow in the dim light… but even so, he was the first to look away.

“Go away,” the High Lord said quietly.

Lucien blinked in surprise. “What?”

“I said: Go. Away,” Tamlin repeated emphatically. “Go. Enjoy your party. Enjoy what’s left of Solstice.”

Lucien watched in dismay as his shaggy form turned away from the landing. “Tam, wait…”

“What?” the beast snarled. “What do you want from me? A gift? An apology? Fine.”

His heavy paw touched the top of the stairs.

“I’m sorry I listened to the words of a High Priestess that I trusted for centuries,” he snarled, then took another step. “I’m sorry I tried to save the woman I loved from my worst enemy.” With each step, he got closer, and angrier. “I’m sorry I allowed Hybern onto my lands instead of waiting for them to invade. I’m sorry I sent my men across the Wall to be butchered like cattle. And I’m sorry I was a coward and sent you Under the Mountain in my place. If I had just let Amarantha have her way with me at the High Lords’ Ball that night, none of this would have happened.”

Lucien slowly shook his head in disbelief. “You don’t mean that,” he said distantly.

Tamlin’s beastly green eyes stared directly into his own. “Yes I do,” he said quietly.

Tamlin was in even worse shape than Eris said. Gone was his shining golden mane, replaced by matted fur as dull as dirt. His bone-white antlers were cracked and crusted with dried blood from the long thorns sprouting there. He was much thinner, too; his under-eyes and cheeks were hollow, even with the fur.

Lucien slowly reached out a hand to touch Tamlin’s furred cheek. “What happened to you,” he murmured.

Tamlin’s lip curled, revealing his long, yellow fangs, and he snapped, barely missing Lucien’s fingers.

Lucien instinctively jerked away and flexed his fingers, but he knew—deep down—that Tamlin didn’t want to bite him. “I was trying to say that what happened to you is not your fault.”

Tamlin growled at him. “I don’t want your damn pity,” he muttered, then turned away.

Lucien huffed in aggravation. “Then what do you want?” he called out as the beast took the stairs two at a time.

Tamlin was already at the top when he called back, “I want to be left alone, and you can tell your masters that I said so.”

“They’re not—” Lucien faltered, because that’s exactly what they were. As long as Elain dwelled in the Night Court, they could make Lucien do whatever they wanted, like a puppet on a string. That same string—that golden thread—tightened around his ribs, and Lucien let out a tired, resigned sigh.

“Happy Solstice, Tam,” he managed, then gave a slight bow before turning away toward the sliver of fading sunlight still visible through the open doorway.

He might have been imagining it, but he thought he heard something sigh: “Happy Solstice,” before he stepped across the threshold and winnowed away to the realm of the Night Court.

* * *

At his approach, the wolf growled a warning growl, so the fox retreated into the safety of the shadows.

* * *

[cheruv-ii]

I FORGOT TO POST HIM WAWAWA

[songofthesibyl]

Second Bloom

A Tamlin POV of Lucien’s early days in the Spring Court.

Lucien leaned back, closing his eyes, and breathed in deeply. “Incredible. I’ll never get used to this.”

     “Maybe in a few decades.”

     “Never.” He fell back until he was against the trunk of the crabapple tree, its pink and white blossoms framing his golden-brown skin, red hair, and green-and-yellow jacket. A vision. Tamlin had never seen someone look so at home in the Spring Court. Whatever pain he was in, for the moment his face was awash in tranquility. Not a mask. Tamlin felt he truly did feel at peace, for a moment. And he wanted that for him. It was just strange to see his Court through someone else’s eyes. Every day was a revelation.

     A blossom came loose, and Lucien stuck out his tongue, letting it rest like a snowflake. After a moment, he closed his mouth around it, chewing it. And a memory was unlocked.

     “My…mother. Used to make jam from the blossoms.”

     “Apple dumplings,” Lucien replied. “In blackberry sauce.”

     “Hmm?”

     “My mother. When I was little…”

     A wind picked up, swaying between them. The blossoms would never fall completely. Buds would not turn to ripening apples. Deep crimson, and green, and pink. Falling to the earth with a soft thud.

     “We can get apples.”

     “No.” Lucien launched himself off the tree trunk with his foot. “I’m ready for something different. Continue the tour. I want to see everything.”

     They continued, walking leisurely through bluebell woods, carpets of periwinkle and violet. Oaks embraced by circlets of ivy, hawthorn tress whose scented white blossoms made Lucien scrunch up his nose in disappointment and distaste. Most of the time Tamlin merely pointed things out. He didn’t want to pry, and Lucien seemed content to take it all in. But the loneliness, and the sadness, were there, glimpsed at intervals as clouds passing, a shift in the wind. As the arc of the sun passed overhead, Lucien wiped his brow, and they walked into another wood of oak, birch, and beech, settling in amongst a sea of wild garlic. Lucien took off his coat and laid it on the ground, sitting on it and undoing the top button of his shirt. Tamlin hesitated a moment, seeing the shadow pass again. But the silence remained, and he joined him, sitting nearby and drawing up his knees to his chin, continuing to look at the world through Lucien’s eyes.

     “The weather’s even more capricious than in Autumn,” Lucien said.

     “Yes.” Winds of change, at a moment’s notice. He kept his coat on, shivering.

     Lucien eyed him. “You always wear a bandolier?”

     “I…” He seemed to notice these things. But he was not ready to talk on it yet, either. “Is it strange?”

     Lucien only looked at him, shaking his head, sensing. “I was just curious.” He turned away, leaning forward into the garlic. “Can I?”

     He sat up. “Go ahead. Anyone can forage here.”

     Lucien raised an eyebrow. “Just the garlic?”

     He huffed a laugh. “No. The Court.”

     “That’s different. My father—“ He stopped. “You have a Tithe here, right?” He gripped the stem, pulling it out in one quick motion.

     “Yes,” he sighed. “We do. That doesn’t mean I own every inch of this land. I’m its caretaker, its protector. Its—“

     Lucien took the stem of garlic, chewing on it. “Do you hunt those who can’t pay?”

     “I don’t…” He looked down, idly pulling on the grass. “I don’t hunt people.”

     Lucien looked at him, stopping what he was doing. “I was just joking. I don’t think you actually do.”

     “Before you came here?”

     “There were all sorts of rumors about you.”

     “I’m sure.”

     “But I don’t tend to care what other people think.”

     He wanted to add that perhaps they were right, but thought better of it. The air was sweet, and mild, and after a moment of looking at him, Lucien settled into place, casually chewing on the garlic stem, then lying down on his coat and closing his eyes. Such ease and tranquility he remembered feeling once, in another Court, and there was a pang in his heart. But he could not join him, feeling ill at ease. Remembering what bound him here.

     Instead he continued sitting upright, feeling tense, shivering at the wind whose sudden cold he had still not gotten used to. When the cold never settled in, when the warmth was always behind. When he thought there might be rest, for a moment.

     “Do you ever relax?” Lucien said, his eyes still closed, lying on the ground.

     “I’m High Lord.”

     “That’s not what I asked.”

     “I can’t. I don’t…have time.”

     “You have time now.”

     “Actually, we should probably get going. There has been a problem at the Wall.”

     Lucien sat up. “What problem?”

     “Humans, wanting to get in. Looking for the thin places.”

     Lucien looked down, as if understanding their impulse.

     “They’re not fae. They…it’s not that I mind them. But I…they don’t understand. They see a land of eternal Spring, and…anyway. Winter will be there soon enough. It’s understandable they’d think to come here. I suppose.” He got up. “Mostly children. Who were not alive when humans were enslaved. But who have relatives who remember. Yet they still…”

     “They have difficult lives. And it seems you’ve created a welcoming Court.” He stood up after him.

     “I thought I had done my job scaring people away.” Tamlin looked around at the idyllic landscape. “I’m tied to these lands. That’s what I mean when I say I don’t own them. They are me. But…” The wind picked up again. “If they truly reflected me…it would be winter here too.”

     A silence followed. He looked to Lucien, who was staring at him, wide-eyed. All of a sudden the corners of his mouth started to lift, blooming to a wide smile that quickly ripened to laughter.

     Tamlin looked down, turning red as Lucien’s laughter got louder and louder.

     “It’s,” he stifled a smile, crossing his arms. “It’s not that funny.”

     But Lucien only kept laughing, starting to walk out of the wood. He couldn’t help but chuckle.

     Lucien stopped, wiping his eyes, bending down over a grove of lily-of-the-valley. “Ahhh…” He breathed the scent in deeply. “These only bloom in Spring,” he said, getting up. “Not in winter.”

     Tamlin said nothing.

     “You’re a male of few words,” Lucien went on.

     “Sometimes. Usually because I get the response you just gave me.”

     “Don’t be so ridiculous, and you won’t.”

     Lucien walked on ahead, confident, beginning to know his way around. As if it were truly beginning to feel like home. Tamlin wondered how long it would take for him to change his mind. Like the children who desperately ran to his Court, until they learned the truth.

     As the manor came into view, Lucien diverted from the path, heading into the gardens. He had not spent much time showing them off. He cared for them meticulously—or he tried to—but he never lingered here. But he continued to follow Lucien’s lead, letting him do as he wished.

     “I should probably—“

     “What are these?” Lucien pointed to clusters of white flowers bordering the path to the garden.

     “Sweet alyssum.”

     Lucien bent down once again, smelling them. “Like honey.”

     “Yes. My mother planted everything here.”

     “It’s beautiful.” He began walking through. “And these?”

     “Uh…gillyflower, I think.” Scent like cloves. Lucien moved on. Asking after every flower, spending his time on each one.

     “This?”

     “Lady’s seal.”

     They passed iris and gardenia, daffodil and sweet pea. Lucien stopped again at a shower of wisteria, before moving on to the rose garden.

     “These are nice,” Lucien said. “What kind are these?”

     “Eglantine.”

     “Hmm…” He kept going.

     “I really do have to get back. You’re welcome to stay.”

     Lucien nodded at him idly. “Thank you…for the tour.”

     “It’s my pleasure.”

     “Have you thought of a position for me yet?” He asked, not looking up.

     “It…not yet. Soon. I’ll let you know. In the meantime I’ll familiarize you with more of the Court. We can go to the coast. There’s a pool the locals have taken to calling the Cauldron.”

     “Yes, I’ve heard of that. Selkies live there, don’t they?”

     “Yes. They go between here, and—“ he stopped, unable to say the word.

     “Hybern?”

     “Yes,” he sighed, tensing. “Anyway. Enjoy the gardens.”

     Lucien nodded to him.

     “And…I don’t hunt down the humans. I just want to protect them.”

     “From what?”

     “Me.”

     Lucien looked on him sadly, but Tamlin did not stay to hear anything else. He was already being ridiculous. The more he talked, the more Lucien would be turned off. He had been lured here, like those desperate children, with the promise of relief, and succor, and an end to their problems. But there was no paradise here. No end to suffering. It was merely dressed in sweet scents, and bright colors, luring them like bees or moths, until they realized it was not a bellflower, or honeysuckle, but a nepenthes, trapping them inside, feeding on them. He would learn, as the others had, in time.

     But that laughter. That full-throated, hearty laughter that rang throughout the wood. It wasn’t mean. Not mocking, like he had been used to. He didn’t think Lucien had a cruel bone in his body. He set everyone at ease here. Even himself, for a moment. And he hadn’t felt like that in a very long time.

     That night, the laughter rang in his head like the singing of bluebells. He dreamt of them. Of the laughter. Of hands in the garden. Of his burying them. Of it spreading, from the heart outwards. One by one. The eglantine, the briar. Pink tulips, and gentian. One after the other, wilting and browning and falling to the dirt. His mother’s gardens, and the meadows, and the wood, to the very end, to the coast. A blight spreading through his whole Court. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first. And then faster and faster, cresting like a wave, all the way to Hybern.

     He woke up in a sweat. He felt a moment of panic, trapped, until he realized he had run his claws through another set of sheets. He retracted them, sighing, and threw the sheets off. Every time he had woken up since he had become High Lord, he felt it, momentarily, the panic of where he was. The darkness, and the trapped feeling, needing to get out. And then the pull of the earth, dragging him down. He would struggle against it fruitlessly for a moment, an overturned beetle. And then give in, becoming limp. Letting himself settle against it. The thorns wrapping round, and digging into his flesh, and melding with his bones. Piercing his skin, as claws.

     He wanted Lucien to feel safe here, cared for, while he recovered. Welcomed. But he didn’t want him to feel settled here. To sink in, and be buried alive. Choked in blossoms and scent, while he festered inside. He wanted him to feel free, to do anything. Go anywhere.

           He could tell Lucien noticed his reluctance to name a position for him, in the days that followed. Lucien would ask, casually. And he would say he was thinking about it. And continue to familiarize him with Spring. And Lucien’s wonder, and appreciation for everything that surrounded him did not lessen. No hesitation, or boredom, or annoyance made its way in. But it only made him worry rather than reassure him. It was not good to fit in here.

     Finally, they made their way to the western coast. They walked its beaches, its cliffs, and he showed him the Cauldron, where a pod of selkies rested with their young. He had always felt a sort of kinship with them. Shapeshifters as he was, and usually wary of outsiders. And not liking to be tied down. Lucien hailed them, but they only looked curiously, and headed out to sea. He and Lucien followed after with their eyes as the selkies disappeared from sight, past the horizon to the specter of Hybern.

     “You haven’t shown me the villages here,” Lucien said, after they had stood in silence for a time. 

     His voice took awhile to hit him, mingling as it did with the wind whipping his ears. He loved how it could shut his mind off, covering him in a kind of cocoon.

     “Tamlin?”

     “Hmm? Oh, yes.” He suddenly remembered Lucien’s reputation. “I’m sorry. I’m not that…social.”

     “I’ve gathered.”

     Once Lucien met people, he would be further enmeshed here. But perhaps it was good—he must already be getting bored, and restless. He would not be enough himself. Eventually, Lucien would tire of him, and this place.

     “Tomorrow.”

     “Alright.”

     He thought Lucien would protest more, but he seemed to accept it, perhaps content with his reassurance, and the promise of what was to come.

     He hardly slept that night, tossing and turning. He kept seeing mountains, craggy hills, and forests of juniper and pine. And suspicious, warning looks. The caverns around the Cauldron were filled with bats, who entangled themselves in his hair, and bit at his neck, and drove him over the edge. He floated on the waves, the current dragging him, until he was pulled to the shore, long nails and red hair overhanging like algae. And a voice to his ear telling him he was finally home. And there was a castle, and there were tethers tightening around his wrists, and his neck. He couldn’t breathe, and he pushed against them—

     He woke up. Another torn set of sheets. He threw them off again, and leaned forward, his hair falling in front of him. And his head in his hands.

       “We don’t really have big cities here. I don’t know how interesting it will be,” he said as they set out on horseback the next day.

     Lucien looked at him wryly. “Will you let me decide that?”

     “I—“

     But Lucien had already set off, his hair flying behind him. Tamlin followed after, smiling slightly with the thrill, and the freedom. The breaking up of the earth underneath, and the drive forward.

     Lucien turned to him when he had caught up. “We have villages in the Autumn Court, too. That’s where Jes—“ He stopped, and his horse slowed to a trot, his head hanging slightly.

     It was the first time Lucien had even started to speak of her. It had been weeks.

     “Anyway,” he went on quickly. “I’m sure the villages are lovely here.”

     “They are, but I—“ He stopped.

     Lucien stared at him, waiting.

     “Nothing. Come on.”

     He led the way. The landscape of the Spring Court was largely of farmland—greens and rhubarb, spinach and radish. Berries and apricots. Herbs. Massive flower farms. Many traded with the other seasonal Courts. Even Autumn. Others raised sheep and cattle. And there were rolling hills dotted with idyllic cottages of stone mined from the region; the older houses had taken on a gold patina over time. As with everywhere else, Lucien remarked on the beauty of the area, the golden hue of the cottages reflected in his skin, accentuating his eyes. Tamlin rode through the towns and villages with him, introducing him but hanging back while Lucien spoke to everyone they passed. Asking their names, what they did. Quickly falling into a rapport with them. One after another. His own mare shook her head in impatience, sensing his anxiety and eagerness to flee. He soothed her, forcing himself to relax as well as he watched Lucien—so at ease already. Occasionally Lucien would look back, as if to see if he was alright, and he would give a reassuring smile back. And then Lucien seemed content to talk with the villagers, for hours. When he finally trotted back to him, he was more animated than he’d seen him yet, his eyes sparkling. Tamlin couldn’t help but smile in response, charmed as the villagers had been.

     “At this rate it will take years to get through every village,” he said.

     “Like I said—I’m not going to get bored.”

     “What did you talk about?”

     Lucien grinned, a mischievous look in his eyes, and rode on.

     He felt a wave of discomfort and self-consciousness, looking towards the village for a moment before following on. As if Lucien already knew the Spring Court better than he did.

     It continued like that for days. He continued to stay at a distance, watching Lucien bring life and light to each village as he had to the manor. He wanted to thank him, and remembered that, in the human world, in the solar Courts, Autumn was soon to start. A time celebrated as one of thanks. There were harvest festivals in honor of this all over the Autumn Court, the air rich with spices and the bounty of the land. Different villages would cook their signature dishes. Lucien had yet to mention his home, or his family, since almost speaking the name of his beloved. But Tamlin thought he saw a dimming of the light in him, as if the angle of it had deepened with the sun’s waning, and the shadows lengthening. Every day a little bit darker. He could not judge Lucien’s reluctance—he himself could hardly bear to speak of his mother. But there had been no word from the forest house. And he knew Lucien would be homesick. He had to be. And he thought of the peace of him surrounded by crabapple blossoms, and thought to bring it to him—the gold, and the warmth, and the sun.

     His heart raced the morning of the equinox. Light had been behind his eyes, he had dreamt of the sun. And when he awoke, he was glowing—a rare lapse in the leash he kept around his own power. He shook it off, and dressed, and waited.

     Everyone in the manor was in awe at the display. In every room, throughout the halls, spilling out of doors—anemone and dahlias. Carnations and aster. Mums, coneflowers, and zinnia. Reds and purples and oranges and yellows. He usually wasn’t much for ostentatious display.  But he had felt compelled. He waited anxiously in the dining hall for Lucien to arrive.

     “Lucien!” He said rather loudly, standing up when he finally arrived. Lucien started in response, almost in a daze.

     “What—“

     “Sit, please.” He ordered breakfast to be brought.

     Lucien stared at the bowl before him. “Apple…dumplings.”

     “In blackberry sauce, just like—“

     “Yes.”

     “I know it won’t be as good as what you’re used to, but—“

     “Tamlin…” Lucien looked up from his food at the display of sunflowers in the center of the table, and there was a look of unfathomable sadness on his face.

     “Uh—“ He indicated the serving girl to leave them. She looked at Lucien, then at him, an awkward expression on her face, then left the room, closing the door behind her.

     “Are you alright?” He asked, tentatively.

     A tear slid down Lucien’s cheek. It was the first time Tamlin had seen him cry since he had first arrived. Every other time the shadow had passed, or he had banished it, shaking it off with a laugh, plunging into each new experience. But this was the great equal. Light, and shadow. Soon, the darkness would overwhelm.

     “It’s just—those were Jes’ favorite flowers.”

     “I—“ He slumped in his chair. He was an idiot. “I’m sorry. I’ve upset you.”

     Lucien breathed in deeply. “No, it—“ He laughed, blinking as the tears continued to fall. “This smells good.”

     Tamlin watched him, waiting. Lucien trembled a moment. Then wiped his eyes, and picked up a fork and knife, cutting into the dumplings. “They’re good,” he said.

     “I’m sure they’re not like home,” he said softly.

     “No, try them. I don’t want you to just sit there watching me eat.”

     “I’m sorry.”

     Lucien looked at him until he picked up his fork. It was delicious—he would have to compliment the cook—though his palate was trained for what bloomed in Spring.

     They ate in silence, and though he knew Lucien found it annoying, he could not help but look at him at intervals—over and over—hoping for a different look, for the joy to return to his face. But at least he didn’t vomit, or gag in disgust. He finished everything. Tamlin remembered when he would hardly eat at all. When he couldn’t do anything.

     He looked down at his own plate. He had managed to finish too. He dreaded the conversation they would have now. How thoughtless he had been.

     But Lucien stood up instead. That was right. He would leave now.

     “Tamlin?”

     “Yes?”

     “Walk with me.”

     “Alright.” He sighed, and stood up, his face growing hot as they walked out into the flower-filled halls.

     “It’s beautiful. Really.”

     “You don’t have to say that. I can see it upsets you.”

     “Why did you do this? All of this?”

     “I—I thought you might want a reminder of home, on—“

     “The equinox? Do you celebrate it here?”

     “Nominally. It’s not really…”

     “A Spring Court thing? Yeah.”

     “On the border, mostly—“ He stopped. Another painful reminder. But Lucien didn’t react.

     “You really went all out.”

     “You seem to like flowers.”

     “It’s not—“ He stopped, walking outside to where there were boxes of marigolds, black-eyed susans, and zinnias. He plucked one of the zinnias, attaching it to a buttonhole, and smiled at some potted allium. Then looked at him.

     “They are beautiful, Tam. Really.”

     He smiled.

     “Can I call you Tam?”

     “No one has in quite a while. But yes. You can call me that.”

     “These. All of this.” He gestured around. “It’s beautiful. I do appreciate the gesture. And…I haven’t wanted to face—I’m still not ready.”

     “I know. I’m sorry.”

     “You don’t have to keep—“ He looked again at the purple globes of the allium. “You know these can only be planted in Autumn?”

     “…Yes.”

     “They’re, beautiful, Tam. But they’re not me. I don’t know that they’ve ever been—“ He looked at the sentries nearby, and walked on. Tamlin followed behind, giving him space.

     After a time, walking towards the rolling hills, he went on.

     “I love my home. I miss it. Every day—I don’t miss them.”

     His father and brothers. He nodded in understanding.

     “But it’s not…the land. Not really. I do love to be in nature. I think I feel…most at home in it. But it was the people. The villages, in my—Autumn. It was who I met there. It was the fields of sunflowers towards Summer—but not the flowers—it was seeing them with her. It’s not the flowers of Spring, or their scent. It’s who I’m viewing them with. Who made—makes them grow. Who nurtures, and protects them. Who gets joy from seeing them. You know, I did talk to the villagers about you.”

     “And what did they say?” He tried not to sound too anxious, but he saw Lucien smile slightly in response, sensing it.

     “Well, they said you’re not exactly…” He cleared his throat. “Approachable.”

     Tamlin looked away, crossing his arms.

     “Yes,” Lucien chuckled. “Like that. But…they know you care deeply for them. That you would do anything for them. That you’ve provided for them. Protected them. Despite how you…your early days…you chose them. And they know that. I chose this, Tam. I came here, of my own free will. Like I said before. I could have gone to Winter, or Summer.”

     “Wasn’t this closest?”

     He rolled his eyes. “Come on, you’re missing my point. Whatever people said about you—he’s a beast, he’s a monster. Instinctively, I knew I would be safe here. I still feel that way.”

     “I—I’m glad.”

     “Are you sure? You don’t want me to leave?”

     “No, I—“ He felt a tug on his heart. “Don’t leave. I’m sorry if I haven’t made you feel welcome.”

     “No, you have. But you need to stop apologizing for existing. For this Court. I want to be here.”

     “I’m so—“ He stopped himself.

     Lucien only smiled, and kept walking.

     “Autumn will always be a part of me. My mother…Jes…but I’m here now. However it happened. I have to embrace it, Tam. Everything. I have to. Do you understand?”

     He looked at him. Lucien had let his emotions come to the surface for a moment. A moment of trust, and vulnerability, that he could not betray.

     “Yes.”

     “I get the feeling, you feel like an outsider in your own Court. Like you don’t belong. Is that fair?”

     “Yes.”

     “Then that makes us two exiles in the Spring Court.”

     He bent down to admire a patch of snowdrops. “You are not your father and brothers. I am not mine.”

     Tamlin kneeled down next to him, suddenly feeling the pull of the earth.

     “You have in your Court a flower that blooms in the Spring and Autumn.” Lucien glanced at him. “Roses.”

     “Yes. Among others.”

     “So. Let us decide. To transplant ourselves. Put down roots.” He sat down next to him. “You may not feel like it, but the land is reflective of you. It’s a place I want to put roots down in. We can make this Court into anything we want. You’ve already transformed it from what it was under your father.”

     “I’ve tried. Not enough.”

     “Then let us resolve today to try harder.” He held out his hand. After a moment, Tamlin took it.

     “Good.” They shook, and Lucien released him, settling back on the earth.

     “I’ve…been thinking…” Tamlin breathed in, and out. He had made a deal, after all. “About a position for you.”

     “Court jester?”

     “No,” he laughed. “Though I wouldn’t doubt you’d excel at it.”

     Lucien smiled. “So, what is it, then?”

     “Well…you certainly have a way with words. The way you are with people…me…I sometimes…find it difficult…talking to people.”

     “You don’t say.”

     He rolled his eyes. “Lucien.”

     “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead.”

     “And with your reputation…getting along with the other Courts…I thought…would you like to be my emissary—the Spring Court emissary, I mean?”

     “Yes.”

     “…You don’t want to think about it? It would mean…at some point…going to Autumn.”

     “I’m not afraid of them.”

     “Good. Because I can’t think of anyone else I’d like to be the face of the Spring Court. Certainly no one who could make it look as good.”

     Lucien smiled to himself, looking at the ground, then looked up at him. “You’re not always so bad with words.”

     “Once in a great while.”

     They fell into silence again. He looked at the snowdrops, Lucien joining him. A moment’s pause, before the work began. The first flower of Spring, on the first day of Autumn. It fit, somehow. And he felt as if he could—reach down, from the tips of the blossoms, deep into the earth, instead of the pull from below. That he could direct it. Like a gardener, he supposed.

     And not alone.

@tamlinweek 2024 Day Three: Flower Language

[apollosmusee]

YEAH, WE WERE BORN TO BE ALONE

 ೃ⁀➷             addie | 18 | she/her | bi | lacrosse | ravenpuff | apollo's favorite daughter | tragedy lover | pumpin spice lattés >> | hopeless romantic | gracie abrams stan | non-religious christian | basic white bitch | professional hyperfixator | museums at closing time | jameson hawthorne's wife | play the piano but suck at it | lucien vanserra's defense attorney | lover not a fighter | pinterest | palestine | discord: cqndyhearts | face reveal |

 ೃ⁀➷             dni over 30, under 13, basic dni

 ೃ⁀➷             artists: gracie abrams, conan gray, olivia rodrigo, bella hadid, sabrina carpenter, chappell roan, adele, arctic monkeys, hozier, jenna raine, phoebe bridgers, cigerettes after sex, renée rap, coldplay, girl in red, maisie peters, melanie martinez, dove cameron, alec benjamin, ashe, lizzy mcalpine

 ೃ⁀➷             movies/shows: the queen's gambit, maxton hall, stranger things, legally blonde, shadow and bone, grave of the fireflies, five feet apart, anne with an e, divergent, the fault in our stars, devil wears prada

 ೃ⁀➷             books: throne of glass, tfota, agggtm, the inheritance games, the naturals, acotar, caraval, ouabh, one of us is lying, boys of tommen, powerless trilogy, shadow and bone, six of crows, tweet cute, the hunger games, pjo, dark verse, ann liang anything, the song of achilles, they both die at the end, girl in pieces, addie larue, kotlc

  dms and asks are always open, so don't hesitate if you want to talk!! 🩷

BUT WHY WE STILL LOOKING FOR LOVE?

[koisplosion]

Sebastian id pack !

Names:

August, Alexander, Alexandra, Alexandria, Alexandro, Alex, Alexis, Alexia, Aiden / Ayden, Auden, Ashton, Asher.

Benjamin, Bastion / Bastien / Bastian, Bastille, Basil, Beckett, Brien / Brian / Bryan.

Casper, Caspian, Cassian, Callum, Callister, Castiel, Cillian, Crispin, Cyprien / Cyprian.

Desmond, Damien / Damian / Damion, Darien / Darion / Darian, Dorien / Dorion / Dorian.

Emiliano, Emilia, Ethan, Evelien / Evelian, Evelin / Eveline / Evelyn, Evelyne.

Felix, Finnian, Finnigan, Fletcher, Felician / Felicien.

Gabriel / Gabrielle, Gabriela / Gabriella, Grayson / Greyson, Gillian, Griffin / Griffon, Griffith.

Hawthorn / Hawthorne, Hector, Hectare, Hadrien / Hadrian, Hasien, Hastien.

Imogen, Irving, Isadore, Isadora, Ien / Ian / Ion, Irine.

Jasper / Jazzper / Jesper, Julian / Julien / Julion, Julius, Jesker, Julio, Julie, Julia.

Kasper, Killian, Kaspian, Kassian, Kasabian, Katrine, Katrina, Katarina / Katerina, Katrien / Katrian.

Lucien / Lucian, Lucifer, Lien / Lian, Leon / Lion, Lillian / Lilian / Lillien / Lilien, Lucianus, Lucio / Luceo.

Matthew / Matthieu, Matthias, Morgen / Morgan, Mien.

Nicholas / Nickolas, Nathaniel, Nyx / Nix, Nyxton / Nixton, Nox.

Obsidian, Onyx, Oren, Orius, Orion, O'Brien / O'Brian, Octavian / Octavien, Orien.

Parker, Preston, Porter, Poet, Poem, Paien, Peregrine / Peregrien.

Russel / Russell, Rien / Rian / Ryan, Racien / Recene, Regien / Ragien.

Savannah, Sterling / Stirling, Sullivan, Sylvester / Sylvestre, Sylvanus, Sylvania, Spencer.

Theodore, Tristan , Tomas / Thomas, Thatcher, Tobias, Terien / Terrien.

Urien

Void, Victor / Viktor, Victoria / Viktoria, Vespian / Vespien / Vaspian / Vaspien, Vien, Vivian / Vivien / Vivienne.

Wilbur, William, Wacien.

Xaydien

Zadrian / Zadrien / Zaydrien.

1st p prns:

I / me / my / mine / myself.

Ci / cige / ciggy / cigarine / cigaretteswlf

Ei / ege / eggy / eggine / eggself

Fi / fre / froggy / frogine / frogself

Fri / froze /frozy / frozine / frozenself

Mi / me / mounty / mountine / mountainself

Oi / obse / obsidy / obsidine / obsidianself

Pi / pe / pumpky / pumpkine / pumpkinself

Si / se / sebby / sebine / sebself

Si / sebe / sebby / sebastine / Sebastianself

Si / soe / soupy / soupine / soupself

Si / sashe / sashy / sashimine / sashimiself

Si / se / summery / summerine / summerself

Smi / sme / smokey / smokine / smokeself

Ti / te / teary / tearine / tearself

Vi / ve / voide / voidy / voidine / voidself

Wi / wine / wintry / wintine (winterine) / winterself

2nd p prns:

You / your / yours / yourself

Co / cigar / cigars / cigarself

Eu / egger / Eggers / eggerself

Fro / freezer / freezers / freezerself

Fro / frogger / froggers / froggerself

Mo / mounter / mountaineers / mountaineerself

Ou / obsidianer / obsidianrs / obsidianerself

Po / pumpkiner / pumpkiners / pumpkinerself

So / sebber / sebbers / sebberself

So / Sebastianer / Sebastianers / Sebastianerself

So / souper / soupers / souperself

So / sashimir / sashimirs / sashimirself

So / summer / summers / summerself

Smo / smoker / smokers / smokerself

To / tear / tears / tearself

Vo / voider / voiders / voiderself

Wo / winter / winters / winterself

3rd p prns:

They / them / theirs / themself

Ci/cig, cig/cigs, cig/arette, cig/ar, cigar/cigars, cigar/ette, cigar/cigarette, cigarette/cigarettes

Eg/egg, Egg/eggs, egg/eggy

Fro/zen, froze/frozen, frozen/frozens, frozen/tear, Fro/og, frog/frogs, frog/froggy, frog/egg

Mount/ain, mount/mountain, mountain/mountains, mountain/road

Obsi/dian, obs/idian, ob/sidian, obsidian/obsidians

Pum/pkin, pump/kin, pump/pumpkin, pumpkin/pumpkins, pumpkin/soup

Seb/sebby, seb/Sebastian, sebby/sebbys, seb/by, sebby/Sebastian, seb/astiolan, se/bastian, sebas/Tian, Sebastian/sebastians

Sou/p, so/up, sou/soup, soup/soups, soup/soupy, sa/shimi, sash/imi, sash/sashimi, Sashi/mi, sashimi/sashimis

Smo/ke, smo/smoke, smoke/smokes, smoke/smokey, smoke/smoker, su/mmer

sum/mer, sum/summer, summer/summers, summer/summery, summer/summertime

Te/ar, te/ear, tea/er, tear/tears, tear/teary

Vo/oid, vo/id, voi/d, voi/void, void/voids

Win/ter, win/winter, wint/er, won't/winter, winter/winters, winter/wintry, winter/time

Titles:

The gamer, the smoker, the mountain dweller

The seasonal smoker, the village smoker

The farmers smoke buddy, the cigarette owner

The void egg admirer, the frog egg fan, the sashimi lover

(prn) who loves sashimi, (prn) who enjoys pumpkin soup

(prn) who treasures obsidian, (prn) who smokes

(prn) who owns frog eggs, (prn) with the cigarette in hand

(prn) who admires void eggs, (prn) and (prns) addicted self

(prn) who plays games with friends, (prn) with the bottled emotions

Coinings:

Sebastian + romance

Smokerscentstellic - dissomeismoker

Stardewanatomic - stardewgender

Voidchickspritic - obsidiagem

Mascorette

Tagging:

@the-church-of-strabismus @sanguinaryfreaks and @hewasanamericangirl

Request status on the inbox

Please read the byf linked in fox's pinned post

[thelov3lybookworm]

for the first time, i have queued two fics in advance and im so proud rn

Edit: i somehow saved this thing in drafts 🫠🫠🫠

[tbthqs2]

Parece que sua intuição estava certa... Não tinha como algo ruim acontecer naquela feira. O sol estava brilhando, a brisa anormalmente fresca e relaxante naquele dia de verão, ao ponto em que você nem se lembra da quentura e do mormaço que costumava sentir nos anteriores. Pelos altos falantes, alguém falava sobre um show do Red Day em uma hora e você mal podia esperar para entrar na sorveteria, comprar um gelato de 2 dólares e ir aproveitar o show da melhor forma possível.

Tw: descrição de violencia física

Até que seu telefone vibra e você de maneira displicente abre sem nem checar direito quem mandou a mensagem. Assim que seus olhos vêem a foto, sua respiração é cortada na hora. Você reconhece a pessoa na foto é The Activist, sem roupa, com mão e pés amarrados com silver tape, uma meia na boca e sinais de espanacamento. Logo embaixo a ficha:

"The Activist. Cobaia número #1 Projeto Kali. Anteriormente: Advogade das empresas de Cigarro Laramie. Agora: Ativista da causa anti-tabagista."

Você não acredita no que seus olhos estão vendo... esse deveria ser o futuro bom... pera, como assim futuro bom? Antes que você possa pensar melhor a respeito disso, mais uma mensagem de número desconhecido chega. Você lê mas não acredita muito. E então suas pernas começam a correr sem que você ordene.

Parece que sua intuição estava errada, afinal.

Informações OOC

The Activist ainda está vive, mas em algum lugar da feira. Elu estava na barraca de orgânicos, na estufa. É um bom lugar pra alguém que quer salva-lu.

É critério pessoal de cada um se seus personagens vão tentar salvar u The Activist ou não.

Os seguintes personagens (Jocelyn Jenkins, Katherine Lewis, Lucien LeBlanc, Ringo Miller, Elizabeth Quarks, Vincent Kingsley, Ben O'Leary e Arabella Dankworth) receberam a mensagem abaixo depois da foto: "Esse é só o começo… todas as pontas soltas devem ser amarradas. Estejam preparados."

Os seguintes personagens (Harper Wang, Nora Grey, Ain Montgomery, Riley Kalman, Priyanka Lalwani, Kai Pomakai'i e Olivia Priestly)receberam a mensagem abaixo depois da foto: "Tic tac um de vocês será o próximo, cobaias do Kali. Todas as anomalias devem morrer"

Os seguintes personagens (Nash Torres, Ember Rose Hawthorne, Anastasya Petrov, Odysseus Fischer, Arista Montgomery, Medison Jenkins, Gwen Vickers e Harvey Wang) receberam a mensagem abaixo depois da foto: "Um de vocês vai ser o responsável por algo assim se repetir. Tenham cuidado"

Personagens que estavam adormecidos, podem despertar agora se quiserem.

Vocês ainda podem abrir e responder starters antes dos personagens receberem as mensagens.

No mais, se divirtam kkkkk