#sunbeams stuffies

[smallest-sunbeam]

Such a sleepy Little Bear 💤

(like me tonight to be honest 😴)

[griffinkid]

A group of horses is called a herd, but I think this group should be called a hug. A whole hug of horses 🐴

[sunbeams-daycare]

Question of the Day:

Do you have a favourite stuffie? If so, tell me about them! You can share pics if you want!

You can answer in an ask, a comment, or reblog ^-^

My Answer:

I have a few favourites, but my most favourite of all is definitely Cuddles the lion! I’ve had Cuddles since I was 7 years old and he’s my best friend :D I’d take him everywhere with me when I was a kid

[thevalkyriewarrior]

I'm Really Extra happy with how these drawings came out!!

I spent about 2 hours of my day looking at the tigers. The first one was napping and the second one was pacing up near the glass so I could get a really good look at his face!!

[smallest-sunbeam]

Aaaa I love him so much!!! 🥺

klaus the clown mouse!! 🐁🎪🧃

klaus is a jellycat bashful mouse that i customized by needle felting a red nose and buttons on him! im so happy with how he turned out :’]

[pit-and-the-pen]

Your Love is Sunlight- Unrequited Love Pt.3

Whoops. Part 3 to Requited Love but could also be read as a stand-alone (I think I gave enough context to do that). This will be the last linear fic for this little series. But there will be more from this OC.

Let me know if you want to be added to the on-going taglist for this OC

Eris x Day Court! OC (Sunbeam) 

Warnings: Suggestive language, heavy kissing. One singular dialogue line with misogyny. Eating (as always let me know if I'm missing anything)

Also I’m heavily messing around with canon/ lore for mating bonds here. 

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Pt. 2 Alt Ending]

WC: 3.7k

divider by @cafekitsune

The request came not even a week later. A week that I could not get the red head out of my thoughts. Eris was a perfect gentleman that night, only lightly chucking as he held my hips away from his after our heated kiss.  We danced the rest of the night away until my shoes had worn painful blisters into my heel. And I would do it a million times over if I got to see that look in his eyes

Eris looked at me like he actually saw me. Like a was someone worth looking at. Not a second option. No, he looked at me the way no one ever had before and I was drunk off of it. The fire in his eyes was enough to make me want to sink to my knees right then and there. I had told him that much that night. 

But instead, he went back to his court. The very court whose seal is on the envelope in my hands. The paper so dark red it was almost black. I opened it with shaky hands and scanned over the words, over and over. Written in loopy, beautiful cursive. The note was short and sweet 

Sunbeam, it would be my honor to show you around the Autumn court. You’d be my personal guest. 

I will be waiting for your reply. 

Yours,

Eris 

One little word made my heart skip a beat. YOURS. Something deep in my chest purred at the idea but I brushed it off to the side. Flirting is one thing but the idea of Eris ever truly wanting something like that with me seemed too good to be true. So I wrote back my enthusiastic yes and in a puff of smoke that left the room smelling faintly of cinnamon, the letter was gone. Returned back to the male that had written it. 

I had never been to the Autumn Court before. My eyes tried to adjust to the beautiful reds, greens and yellows in hues I’d never seen outside of paintings. The cool breeze that seemed to whisper in my ear as it brushed past. Everything seemed alive as I heard the scurrying of animals on the leaf covered ground. When the air rose a few degrees, you already knew who was walking up to me. I greeted Eris with a tight hug. He was dressed in a handsome emerald green button down with gray slacks. His hair tied up out of his face unlike the other night at the ball. Those same golden rings littered his fingers. I blushed as I realized my eyes had been raking over him. If he had noticed, he didn’t say anything. Suddenly not knowing what to do with myself, I gave him an overdramatic curtsey raising my voice to stuff almost regal pitch. 

“High Lord.” He quickly recovered from the confusion that washed over him. He smiled, catching on, before he bowed low

“Allow me the honor of showing you around.” He said as he extended an arm to me. His voice dripped with that same faux stuffiness. The two of you looked at each other, holding back laughter. I broke first. My laughter rang through the large forest at my back. His head was thrown back, blinding white teeth flashing. Once we had recovered, he held out his arm again. Voice back to normal. “I would still like to show you around.” I took his arm and the two of us walked around the manor that seemed to rise out of the forest. 

AS he showed me around, he told me of the renovations that had recently taken place, pointed out the things that he still planned to change. The inside was just as breathtaking as the woods around the house. Rich colors and soft, plush fabrics filled the space with an unmistakable warmth. One that Eris had painstakingly tried to create. 

“And this will be your room for your stay. I already had your things brought up and I had Tessa and Clover, two of my mothers maids, pick out some warmer clothes for you.” He gestured to the large armoire in the corner of the room. “If you need anything else please don’t hesitate to tell them or myself.” Thanks rushed out of my mouth as I gaped at the room. 

My  room at the day court had floor to ceiling windows that allowed for sun to streak through at all waking hours, marble and gold littered every surface possible. This room was cozy enough that I instantly felt my eyes get heavy. Dark wood paneling ran across the walls. Heavy curtains over the windows that had been pinned back displayed the colorful trees. And the bed.the bed. It was covered with the softest, plushest blankets I had ever seen. Pillows covered over half the bed and it made me want to do nothing but burrow into them and never leave that bed. My feet drifted on their own accord over to the bed, I reached out a hand and almost sighed at the feeling of the fabric against my fingers. Just as soft as they looked. 

Eris’ content laugh pulled me out of my trance. I turned around to face him, he stood in the doorway still. “I’ll let you get settled. I can show you around more later today before dinner? If you want.” My heart fluttered at the idea, the thought of his court seeing us together. Of course, it was probably just to make sure I didn’t get lost in the maze that was the manor. At least that’s what I told myself, but as he took one more glance at me before he walked out of the room, I wasn't sure how much I believed that. 

Although I had bathed earlier that day, the deep tub in my bathroom all but called my name. I sniffed random bottles of oils and poured in spicy, warm smells. The oils seemed to curl in the air and beckon me to sink deeper into the water. Completely submerging my head until I needed to come up for air. I sat in the bath until my skin started to prune. Groaning, I pulled myself from the soothing water and dried off. Wrapping the towel around myself, I padded over to the closet and ran a hand over all the clothes Eris had given me. The closet was full of jewel tones and deep reds. Floor length dresses that were heavy enough to keep out the nip of the air at night but light enough to walk around in during the day. I picked an emerald long sleeve dress and blushed at the realization that Eris and I would be matching. Before I could lose my nerve, I pulled the dress over my shoulder. The front buttoned up all the way to the ground. The waist tucked in slightly flaring out around my hips. It felt amazing against my skin and fit like a glove. 

A knock at the door pulled my eyes from my reflection in the mirror. My hair was still wet from the bath and small waves were starting to form at the ends. Eris opened the door and stilled as he took me in. I felt like I was a thousand feet under his heavy gaze. He looked down at his own shirt for a second before he looked at me again. 

“Autumn court is a good look for you, Sunbeam.” My whole body flushed at the compliment and I hummed in agreement. A small yip from the hallway split my focus. A small furry face pushed through his legs, almost toppling the High Lord. “Azelia” he whistled, the hound stilled for a second before prancing over to me. She sniffed at my skirt before she sat at my feet, giving me her full attention. I reached down to pet her and she rolled over onto her back. I laughed at the twitch in her tail as I ran a hand over her stomach. Eris whistled one more time and she barked back before flipping back over and walked to sit at his feet in a similar manner. I giggled at the exhausted look he shot the dog. She only barked in her own form of laughter. 

Eris and I walked along a river by the house. He helped me pick out the perfect stones for skipping across the water. Coming up behind me to make sure my arm had the perfect flick to make it sail over the surface. I wasn’t nearly as good as he was, even with his help. Something he pointed out with a smirk. I pushed him lightly and he clutched at his chest like I had mortally wounded him. Crouching down onto both knees. I walked closer to him.

“Oh please, Eris ge-” My words were replaced with a yelp as he wrapped his arms around my legs and pulled me over his shoulder. I could only laugh my head off as I pounded at his back. Demanding he put me down. When he did, I felt the tree against my back. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you sound when you laugh?” I blushed and shook my head. 

“It can’t be that special. No one has ever said that before.” He knew who I was speaking about and he pulled my chin up to look him in the eyes 

“I wish I could offer the usual sentiment of killing the male that ever made you feel this way but that would complicate things as a high lord,” he winked at me. I felt my shoulders loosening at the humor in his voice. “But you say the word and I will.” He picked up a lock of my hair and twirled it around his finger. “You’re radiant and anyone who has ever made you feel otherwise is either blind or dumb or both.”

We had leaned in so close to one another that I could count the freckles on the bridge of his nose. Someday I hoped he would let me kiss each and every single one of them. My eyes flickered down to his lips and he was smirking as he followed my eye line. 

“Is there something you want, Sunbeam?” The little shit. It’s like my words had evaporated completely. Brain went fuzzy as his smell wrapped around me. I could do nothing but whimper. He made no other remark, only used his hand already in my hair to grip the back of my head. He growled as he smashed his lips to mine. This was nothing like the kiss from the ball. That had been exploratory and warm. This was an all consuming inferno. Burning through every ounce of self doubt I harbored. Scorching through my veins until only Eris was left. His free hand wrapped around my waist and pressed me against every delicious inch of him. When I started undoing the buttons of his shirt, he still his lips. His hand went to rest over mine and I reluctantly pulled away from him. I tried not to show the hurt on my face. And he leaned in to whisper in my ear. 

“The first time I'm inside of you will not be outside. Nor when we're rushed. I need time to make you scream my name. For all of Priyanth to hear that you’re mine.” Something more than hunger flashed in his eyes and I felt that look deep in me. 

“Eris.” I gasped out. He brushed a soft hand down the side of my face. 

“You can’t say my name like that sweetheart, not when I have to sit at dinner with the rest of my court in less than an hour.” I blushed at the meaning behind his words and tried, and failed, to not look down to the front of his pants. The evidence behind his words. My tongue ran across my lips at the sight. He groaned and stepped away from me. 

“You are a bad influence. But I meant what I said.” He booped my nose with his pointer finger, “ Now please go get ready for dinner.” His hand lingered on my arm for a fraction longer before he reluctantly let go.

I got dressed in a daze. A wild blush would not leave my cheeks. Everytime I managed to push away my errant thoughts, more would seep back into my mind. 

Before I knew it, I had changed into a new dress and was walking side by side with Eris down to the dining room. A few members of his court were already there, talking amongst themselves. They smiled up at him as we passed. As I sat down next to him they introduced themselves in kind tones. I nodded trying to keep up with their names and faces. More people started to come in and eventually all the places at the table were filled. 

There was no big speech or ceremony to start dinner. Everyone ate at the pace that they wanted to and cups of wine were being poured and shared. 

A deep voice of an older male pulled me from my conversation with the female,Fern I think was her name, next to me. 

“I’m still trying to figure you out.” He stated plainly. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you hung around Rhysand and his cronies. Came crawling back to Day where Helion welcomed you with open arms,” I felt the room grow hotter. “So I’m simply wondering how to get you in my bed too.” One second the male had been sitting at the table and before I could even blink, he had been blasted across the room. He sat up, eyes unfocused as he put a hand to his head. All eyes turned from the male now lying on the floor to the High Lord who was picking at non-existent dirt under his nails. 

“You will not speak to any female, especially guests, like that in this court. Ever. Again.” He hardly looked up at male before he evenly said, “You’re dismissed.” Two of the other members of the court scurried to his side and helped heave him to his feet. Quickly getting him out of the room. 

“I’m sorry you all had to see that. There are many things I will tolerate but comments like that are not one of them.” Eris said to those remaining from his court. All of them nodded along, not fear but appreciation in their eyes. I felt my heart soften at his words. Beron would have let a comment like that slide, maybe even agreed with it. It would take a while, old habits run deep but Eris would squash that old cruelty out of the Autumn court piece by piece. The thin line of determination in his face told me that much. He turned his attention to me “Are you all right?” He quietly asked me. The sound of silverware clinking against plates and light conversations filled the silence from moments ago. I nodded. 

“You didn’t have to do that, you know? It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.” His mouth set into an unamused look, anger pinching his eyebrows.

“Sunbeam, I will not allow anyone to talk to…” he took a breath, about to say something but seemingly changed his mind. “I would do it again.” I knew he was telling the truth and thanked him for his kind words. 

The next few days passed too quickly. I spent the days in Eris’ presence, him waving me off when I apologized for keeping him from his duties. He assured me that making me feel as welcome as possible was a hundred percent part of his responsibilities. Both as a High Lord and a friend. Friend. I bristled at the word. Only a few more heated moments had passed throughout the days, and nothing like that night before dinner. I was wound tight and from the way his eyes kept flickering to my lips, I knew he was too. Everytime I would go to take things further, he would steal my hands or push away from me entirely. That same excuse said through gritted teeth. I didn't question it. If it happened it happened but being around him so much made it harder and harder to keep my thoughts at bay. 

This was one of those moments. I was supposed to leave the next morning and my hands were currently wrapped in Eris’ hair. My back pressed firmly against the door of his room. He peppered my neck with small bites that had my blood singing for him. I didn’t reach for his shirt this time, despite the need rushing through me. I instead went to the buttons on the front of my dress. Eris all but growled, “Gods you’ll be the death of me.” He groaned into my neck. I used my grip in his hair to pull his face back to mine. 

“Do you want me to?” I asked, suddenly feeling self conscious. 

“I would want nothing more darling but if you do, you won’t leave my bed in the morning.” He went back to kissing my neck and as he found that sweet spot right below my ear, I let the argument die on my tongue. If this was all I got from him, I would gladly take it. Regardless of how much more I wanted. 

I woke up in the morning with my lips still swollen from the rough kisses the night before. I didn’t need to look at my neck to know the angry red marks that would be faded by the time I left. I sighed at the thought and curled deeper to my blankets. Shutting out the thoughts of leaving and the heaviness that creeped into my bones. 

Eris and I spent the day with his hounds. We walked around the forest, me chasing after them as he hung back, throwing sticks after them. We laughed until our lungs hurt and his pack walked between us with ease, slipping in and out between our legs like they had been doing it all their lives. 

It was finally time for me to leave. Helion was about to come to winnow me back to the Day Court. My bags had already been sent back. And I felt the disappointment on my face as he gave me one short kiss goodbye. As he pulled away from me it felt like the ground was being pulled from under me.

“Eris.” I called to his retreating form. When his eyes met mine it was like the air had been knocked out of my lungs. It shouldn’t be possible. I felt tears well up in my eyes. This could not be happening again. I had lost this chance when my bond with Azriel had been severed. Or had I? No one had ever gone as far as I had before. I didn’t just reject the bond. Helion had pulled it from my body, completely erased it for the both of us. Did that mean I got another chance? A small voice in the back of my head remembered those dreaded words. Maybe the cauldron gets it wrong. Could this be the cauldron making it right? Looking into those amber eyes, it felt right. In fact, nothing had ever felt so right before in my life. It was never like this with Azriel. He never loved me, was never going to love me. But Eris. Eris, who was always kind to me. Eris, who always greeted me first when he visited my old court during Hlyberns reign. It all made sense now. Everything had played out for this exact moment. I took a sharp inhale as I reached out through the bond, expecting that all too familiar coldness I had been greeted with all those years ago.

 Eris’ eyes snapped to mine as his body jolted. His mouth parted, words seeming to fail him. The other side of the bond was not in fact empty. But full of warmth and love. Love for me. We could do nothing but gape at each other as that thread, as golden as the leaves around us, grew thicker as it stretched between us. 

Tears welled in my eyes at the feeling. So much comfort and love running down the bond it almost pulled me to my knees. We both stumbled forward until our arms were wrapped around each other.

“I was so worried you would never feel it.” Eris spoke into the crown of my head. 

“When…”

“The moment I saw you at the ball. The first time I saw you after you cut your bond with him.” I squeezed him as tight as my arms would allow. “I didn’t know the depth of the magic Helion had used on you, I went to talk to him after to see if it was even possible and reading that book further, we realized it was.” I pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. The sun reflecting off of them made them honey brown. He smiled at whatever emotion I accidentally sent down the bond. 

“I’m happy it’s you Eris.” He looked shocked. “If I had to go through all of this for it to be you, then it was worth it. Every second of it.” Tears of his own trailed down his face and I placed my head against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.  “Don’t go. Stay here with me.” His voice reverberated deep in his chest. “You don’t have to make any decisions right now. But stay here, let me do this the right way. The way you deserved the first time.”  I could do nothing but blush and nod. My throat felt tight at all the feelings, mine and his. A breathtaking smile I had only seen him give me split across his face. My feet suddenly no longer on the ground as he picked me up. My skirt billowed out around me as he swung me lightly around, like he had on the dance floor that night. I squealed in delight and buried my face into his shoulder. Inhaling his deep earth and cinnamon scent and thanked the cauldron that it didn’t always get it right. The first time.

Copying over the people I tagged in the last one! I promise this is the last one I'll tag yall in unless you ask

@cleverzonkwombatsludge @myromanempiree @starsandsins @melmo567 @saltedcoffeescotch @daycourtofficial @anainkandpaper @leyannrae

[achaotichuman]

Fanfiction Rec Masterlist

This is my personal list of fanfiction recommendations. It's easy to get lost in the abyss of mindless, droning hate, and Pro-IC content in this fandom, and this is a safe space away from all of that.

All of these fics are free of Tamlin hate, and all of them are utterly beautiful, well-written and I love them.

Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra

A Court of Threads and Daises by @shi-daisy

Tragedy almost struck the Spring Court when Tamlin Evergreen tried to take his own life. Lucien Vanserra manages to save his former Lord, but not his power.

Now that the Spring Court has a new High Lord and the horrors of war are behind them, both Tamlin and Lucien agree to help the new heir navigate court life and attempt to rebuild the broken Spring Court, along with healing themselves.

They weren't expecting to fall back in love in the process.

A Second Chance by @goforth-ladymidnight

Modern ACOTAR AU – There is a reason that Tamlin disappeared from Lucien's life seven years ago. Lucien just doesn't know what it is. They were more than college roommates; they were best friends. Now, a chance encounter in a bookstore leaves both of them wondering if they can pick up where they left off. A new year is right around the corner, but there is no wiping Tamlin's slate clean. Featuring Jurian and Vassa in supporting roles, this is not a story of redemption, but of finding love—and forgiveness—in the most unlikely of places.

Lovely and Lonely by @praetorqueenreyna

"In hindsight, Lucien thinks he fell in love with Tamlin the moment he first laid eyes on him."

**************************

Lucien Vanserra must come to terms with his sexuality, and his complicated feelings for High Lord Tamlin.

A Court of Choices Made by Anonymous

Lucien decides to go after Tamlin to pick a fight after his first Winter Solstice with the Night Court.

I see red, I see nothing by AngryRamen

Lucien travels to Amarantha’s domain to try and bid for peace between her and the courts of Prythian. It doesn’t go well.

Still Beautiful, Still Mine by @goforth-ladymidnight

\Vanserra. ACOTAR AU - In the weeks following his visit to Amarantha’s Court Under the Mountain, Lucien is still recovering from the loss of his eye. Nuan has made him a replacement out of gold, but the scars on his face are there to stay. When Tamlin comes to see him, Lucien cannot help but relive the events that brought them to this point, if only he could focus on what's standing right in front of him...

A Sunbeam Shining Bright Into the Night by @nocasdatsgay

After the Great Rite ritual is completed, Tamlin always goes back to the Manor to see if Lucien is waiting for him. This year he is.

Forbidden by @nocasdatsgay

Calanmai has come once again, but Tamlin isn’t focused on the females waiting for him.

Breezing on by Sprighnt (SliPuP_Slit)

His focus was shattered when Feyre dropped onto the bench next to him with a dramatic sigh, “You won’t even say hi after you ditched us last week?”

Lucien rolled his eyes at her antics, “I didn’t ditch you, I was studying for math. The exam of a subject that I need days to prepare for, remember? I didn’t think you’d even notice me gone, what with all the ogling that takes up your time in our practices.”

“Shut up!” She shushed him, glancing around wildly for any eavesdroppers, “what if he heard you?”

——— Lucien has settled into a routine now. He’s finally able to go back to competing after an accident that had him wondering if he’d ever be able to skate competitively again, he’s out of his hellish childhood home, and has friends that make him happy.

By the Fountain by Sprighnt_(SliPuP_Slit)

Tamlin is tired of stuffy dinner parties, luckily, he has his best friend, Lucien, to make things more interesting.

———

Tamlin took the time to look at Lucien, who was staring at an elegant fountain nearby. He examined the dip of his nose, the scrunch of his brows, the slight part of his lips that indicated he was contemplating something. Then Lucien’s mouth set in a firm line, meaning he’d made up his mind on whatever the issue was.

Lucien glanced back at him and Tamlin startled at being caught watching. He placed his hand gently on Tamlin’s arm, “I don’t think my father will plan one for me either.”

New Springs by Sprighnt_(SliPuP_Slit)

“I can’t be here for as long as you,” she clarifies, gesturing to the forest around them.

“You’re leaving?”

She shrugs, “It’s nice here, but my sisters, my father, they’re my only family. Even if they’re, a little difficult at times, and I don’t want to hurt Tam. I was really in love with him, but, to put it plainly, I’m not like you.”

“Like me,” Lucien repeats, confused, “what do you mean?”

———

In another universe, an alternate timeline, Feyre says “I love you”, before she’s sent off and therefore breaks the curse the way it was supposed to be broken. Things are different.

absolution by @praetorqueenreyna

Things didn't work out between Feyre and Tamlin. Years later, they both find love in unexpected places

Beauteous Evening, Calm and Free by franklinarchive. Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra.

Tamlin heals and then he moves on.

Or, what if Sarah J. Maas hadn’t committed ‘character assassination’ against Tamlin?

When The Sun Came Up (I Was Looking At You) by pansexual_intellectual .

There was a slight choking sound from the Night Court side of the room, but when you looked, Lucien was expressionless, adjusting his doublet.

It was the worst idea you had ever had. In the shreds of your manor you dropped to your knees. He was gone in the morning, as you knew he would be.

a bridge between us by @yaralulu

“In less than a year, they’d already lost so many people, and yet they had to send another sentry beyond the wall today. And as they left, so did Tamlin. He’d once again left Lucien to tend to his wounds, and deal with his upcoming grief all his on own. He’d once again left Lucien alone in the manor, sorrowful and bitter and bubbling with worry he could no longer contain.

It’s why the sound of Tamlin winnowing back filled Lucien with relief like no other. Like releasing a breath he’d been holding for too long. Tamlin being home made Lucien feel like he could breathe again. No matter how hurt Lucien was by Tamlin, he’d always find himself standing outside his office, his need to see Tamlin overriding his common sense.”

Amidst the ruins of their fractured relationship, Lucien and Tamlin grasp for the fragile threads that once bound them together, desperately seeking solace in each other as they battle the curse placed upon Spring.

The Fox and The Hound by @samhatch

Every Fire Night since Lucien joined Spring Court, Tamlin has always sought him out to help release the last of the spirits that possessed him. But now that he's mated with Feyre, Tamlin won't need Lucien's help anymore... Or will he? ********************************************************** “I thought you wouldn’t come.” I admitted. I tried to keep my heart from beating too quickly, knowing his heightened senses could hear it. He said nothing in reply, and walked slowly toward me. As gently as the morning dew, he pressed his lips to mine, but I could feel the hunger behind it barely kept at bay. His scent filled my nose, trampled moss and lilac. “What about Feyre?” I asked. “She’s asleep,” he said as he crawled into my bed.

Tamlin/Rhysand

Wildflower by @mathiwrites.

Five hundred years before Feyre’s arrival in Prythian, the humans fought against Faeries, led by the King of Hybern, for their Freedom. Tamlin is only seven years old when the war begins, but his family’s involvement and a fated friendship with a handsome young Lord from the Night Court will change his life forever. This is the story of how he becomes the High Lord you know and love, and the redemption story nobody asked for.

TL;DR - before they were enemies, they touched butts.

A strange thing happened the night of the High Lord meeting by @umthisistheonlyusernamenottaken.

Tamlin shook his head, a small smile on his full lips. “You forget that we were closer than friends once. I know your face. Even when you think you’re being so clever, hiding behind that mask of impassivity, I see you.”

He snarled, even as his heart began to beat faster as the other male approached him.

“You think I didn’t see you? You couldn’t stop looking at me during that meeting.” He took another step closer, and his next words were tinged with playfulness, a hint of the Tamlin he’d used to know.

“Were you thinking of that night too?”

He froze. “What?”

In the Eyes of My Beloved by Alynaw66.

I promise, Rhysand sighs into his mouth; Then down onto the slight curve between his neck and shoulder. Tamlin shivers, feeling dazed. Overwhelmed.

“Another offer,” he begins, one hand sliding down to grip Tamlin’s narrow waist.

(Also fun fact about this fic, I was brought to Tumblr because of a link in the notes, so without this fiction I wouldn't be here)

Stay or Go? by SoulOfStars.

Both of their families are dead. Rhysand decides to stay. They fuck in the second chapter.

Burning Batter by Sprighnt_(SliPuP_Slit).

Rhysand comes over to make cupcakes with Tamlin for Feyre’s upcoming New Year’s party.

A Court of Lies and Resurrection by @ashintheairlikesnow.

AU: Feyre is dead, torn apart by Amarantha when Tamlin did not send her away in time. Tamlin, forced to submit to Amarantha's terms, finds himself looking for help (and finding affection) in places he never expected, while Lucien allies with an ancient enemy (and one of Rhys's closest friends) to save him. WARNING Extensive explicit adult content, sexual situations, violence, MA

Colors in a Dead Garden by @fourteentrout.

"It is not just an ancient enchantment that they’re dealing with, it is not just an incompetent, broken High Lord that never even asked for his position. It is the fall of the Spring Court."

With the fate of the mortal lands--and possibly the rest of Prythian--at stake, Rhysand has to confront the Court that has caused so much of his pain and suffering. The male whose claws have sunk into Rhysand's life time and time again over the centuries.

For Prythian, Rhysand finds that he has to reckon with parts of himself and his past that he's been burying for hundreds of years, and find the cure to a curse from another time in the process.

The Solution by @fourteentrout.

Nyx attends his first formal Courtly event as a grown Faerie. Well, as grown as a nineteen year old can be. His parents' past with their host remains shrouded in mystery, and Nyx finds that he develops a somewhat unruly attraction to the High Lord of the Spring Court.

It does not go how he expected it to.

AKA Nyx is unbearably horny and nothing works out in his favor. Tamlin, on the other hand...

no one left to grieve by @praetorqueenreyna.

A month after the tragedy that made both him and Tamlin High Lords, Rhysand returns to the Spring Court to finish the job.

***********

For Tamlin Week, Day 1: Heir of Spring

To have, to hold by @flowerflamestars.

“You picked the wrong one,” Tamlin laughed.

you up? by @praetorqueenreyna.

Tamlin accidentally texts a "personal" picture to Rhysand

Nighttime in Spring by star_stealing_girl.

A longing was in Tamlin’s green eyes, and his fingers twirled in the dark strands of Rhys’s hair. Rhys wondered if he, too, was remembering that magical Calanmai, so long ago that it was like a dream. Rhys seemed to feel the pulse of the drums in every beat of his heart. The singing and carousing was like a chant in his blood.

***

Rhys tries to convince Tamlin to participate in Calanmai this year, and the music and magic awaken old memories. Will it awaken a renewed desire between the two old friends? This fic is set a few years after the events of ACOSF, and is a short romance between Rhys and Tamlin.

Lay Me on the Cold Dark Earth by @witch-and-her-witcher

Maybe the whiskey had been spiked. Maybe Tamlin was hallucinating on faerie dust right now and Rhys wasn't actually asking what he thought he was.

Rhys snarled with the darkness of his powers behind it.

Tamlin snarled right back, the beast instinctually roaring beneath his too-tight skin.

"I'm asking for that," Rhys said, unrelenting. "I want you to unleash that beast begging to stretch its legs."

Darling by @lifeisabiscuit

A different view of what could have happened when Rhysand visited Tamlin in fas.

Nyx/Tamlin

A Court of Chaos and Darkness by @witch-and-her-witcher.

Fate isn't done screwing with Tamlin's life, but this time the collateral is his ex-lovers son.

The heir of the Night Court knows something is wrong with him that his family won't tell him and Nyx is ready to come out of the dark.

Cosmogeny by @highlordofkrypton

The world is in ruins. Humans and Faeries pick at each other’s teeth until the bone is whittled from flesh and all that is left is blood in their wake. They had been created equal, once. To think, they’d all fall prey to their own hubris. This is not what the Goddesses wanted. To Prythian, they are sending scouts to decide whether their world is worth saving, or whether it should be devoured and remade anew.

This is a dark fantasy, eldritch horror fic that may end up being unserious more often than not.

Tamlin/Eris Vanserra

The longest Day of the Week by Yooijo.

Now, Eris grew up in what could only be described as a heteronormative society. And while he had his fair share of escapades, he tended to follow the rules and stick to tits and slits, with the occasional fumble between friends where he put the emphasis on being fumbled with and never touching another man’s dick.

So, instead of mauling Tamlin’s junk with his teeth, he sat there, stiff like a board in every aspect, eating his soup and looking at Tamlin like he wanted to burn the world and dance naked on the ashes.

///

What Eris and Tamlin are up to after the evil, very bad, not good king of Hybern is defeated.

heaven sent a hurricane by @praetorqueenreyna. Vanserra. After his family is killed and he is crowned High Lord, Tamlin struggles to keep his Court under his control. (Un)Luckily for him, Eris Vanserra steps in to help.

Tamlin/Tarquin

A Court of Beasts and Chances by M4r0u_Mar.

About a Beast who must be prince and a Prince who wants to be beast. About a Prince who learns of second chances and a Beast who learns of redemption. About looking for love and finding it in the journey rather than the destination.

Or the one where I rewrite ACOTAR to make Tamlin and Tarquin mates.

Tamlin/Feyre Archeron

The Gown by @goforth-ladymidnight

"I really, truly hated my wedding gown. It was a monstrosity of tulle and chiffon and gossamer, so unlike the loose gowns I usually wore: the bodice fitted, the neckline curved to plump my breasts, and the skirts… The skirts were a sparkling tent, practically floating in the balmy spring air." ~ A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas

A somewhat canon-compliant look at what Tamlin might have said or done when he sees Feyre in "The Dress" for the very first time. Inspired by a prompt on Tumblr.

Nesta Archeron/Tamlin

A House of Flame and Flower by Mellowenglishgal.

“Spare me the self-righteous lecturing, Feyre. You and your new family believe yourselves superior: that anyone who is not deemed worthy by you must bow or be eliminated. I refuse to bow to those I do not respect: and I owe none of you any such obligation. Nor am I obligated to remain where my autonomy is threatened,” Nesta sighed, gentle yet commanding, her voice low and steady and unyielding. “I renounce all ties to the Night Court. From now on, you are no longer my sister.”

“Where will you go?” Feyre snapped, but Nesta saw it: the sudden realisation that Nesta meant every word.

“That is no longer your business. Goodbye, Feyre,” Nesta said softly. She rose to her feet, elegant as an empress despite her unkempt clothing. As she stared down her youngest sister, Nesta caressed the delicious power shimmering like slumbering embers deep in her heart, until her veins sang with silver fire, pure light, blistering heat, deadly yet silent.

Flame was silent: everything it met shattered and snapped, disintegrating, unable to withstand it.

She was flame. She was undiluted, unrefined, unapologetic power.

She told Feyre, “You will not hear from me again.”

Nesta Archeron/Eris Vanserra

A Court of Blaze & Sorrow by @shi-daisy

(Sequel to A Court of Threads & Daisies)

Nesta Acheron had known from early childhood she'd be wearing a mask. She thought she'd wear it for the rest of her life. Until she tore it off on the eve of her wedding. Intending to stop Rhysand's plans to become High King, she takes to the Autumn Court, where she finds more that she bargained for with the Vanserra family. Particularly Eris Vanserra.

Eris wore his mask to keep everything and everyone in place hoping that one day he'd inherit the Autumn Court from his cruel father and changed it for the better. He didn't know fate had diffrent plans for him when Lady Nesta Acheron sought him out to end Rhysand's tyranny.

Free from Night's grasp the pair must navigate Court life, family drama and romance, hoping to mend both their lives and hearts.\

With a Sense of Poise and Rationality by @kateprincessofbluewhales

Nesta finds herself, yet again, with her life turned upside down on her and Cassian's wedding day. One shot exapanded!

Other

In This Peace Series by @trshtffc, the first fiction in the series is completed The Sorceress . Tamlin/Original Female Character.

Seven years after ACOWAR, Spring Court is struggling to keep from falling apart completely. A mother tries to move on and keep her daughter safe in this chaotic world, but when the young female most needs a friend, she'll give the disgraced High Lord a chance to attone for the pain he has caused, and, perhaps, to finally heal.

TW for - mentions of suicidal thoughts - mentions of loss of a pregnancy - mentions of sexual abuse - mentions of emotional abuse (toxic relationships and toxic family dinamics) - colourism - LGBT+phobia

Needle & King by @highlordofkrypton. Rhysand's father/Rhysand's mother.

Before A Court of Thorns and Roses and before Wildflowers, Needle & King is a story of survival and of love. We all know how it ends for Rhysand's mother and his father, but how did it all begin?

***

Everyone feel free to add to this!!!

[tookhimtomypenthouse]

Hate Yourself - Chapter Two

series warnings: female!reader x oliver quick, past/implied felix x oliver, dub-con, stalker behavior, voyeurism, degradation, dacryphilia, bloodplay, gaslighting, manipulation, untagged story elements (the warnings aren't exhaustive!), DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT bbgirl

summary: you’re hired as a maid after Oliver comes to own Saltburn, and find your employer to be very invested in your work

minors dni!

Lyuba had left this morning. She hugged you tightly before stepping into her cab, much to your surprise. The normally stern woman was unexpectedly tender with you that morning.

“Take care, zayka,” she whispered as she held you. “Don’t let this house devour you,” she added before pulling away and walking to her cab. 

You shiver at the thought, her words chilling. You try to ignore the eeriness of her warning as you dust the study. Dusting was gentle work and a welcome reprieve from scrubbing and scouring the other rooms. Plumes of dust kicked up by your duster shimmer in the late afternoon sunbeams, and you catch yourself watching them float around. The study is full of dusty spots – tall bookshelves, busts of important men, and an overstuffed upholstered chair. Your focus is on the chair when you look up to see one of the many hanging frames of art. 

Unlike most art decorating Saltburn, the frame doesn’t hold a stuffy oil painting of a king or lord. Instead, a sketch of a handsome young man looks back. His soft eyes and nonchalant pose invite you in. His clothes seem modern, his messy hair unfussy and tousled. The strokes of charcoal are loose and messy, giving the impression the subject wasn’t as buttoned-up as the rest. Who might he be? In the corner was the artist’s signature, a delicate cursive EC. You search around the perimeter of the sketch for a name, but there’s nothing else. Only the kind, mysterious face.

“Keep your secret, then,” you fake pout to the sketch. You’re pulled out of your examination by clicking footsteps from the hallway. You keep at your dusting, but you hear someone come into the study and rifle through the stack of papers on the desk. Turning your head, you see Oliver sit down and shuffle through a few documents, concentrating deeply on his task. Plucking up some unknown courage, you decided to soothe your burning curiosity.

“Pardon me, sir,” you start, faltering a bit as his eyes connect with yours, “but do you know who this is?”

Oliver pauses as his attention moves to the frame. A sad smile ghosts over his mouth. “Ah,” he says gently. “That would be Felix Catton.” He returns to his task at the desk, but he seems distracted.

“D-do you know him?” You ask, curiosity piquing at his visible reaction.

“I did,” he starts, stepping back from the desk and approaching the picture. “We were…mates.” He’s close now, close enough that your shoulders touch. “Met at Oxford.”

You feel your brows furrow. He’s not giving enough detail for your tastes. “How did he get a picture on the wall if he’s just a mate? There must be more to it than that.” You try and meet his eye, but he is fixated on the image. 

“His family owned this place. He invited me to stay for a summer back when we were in university and died at the birthday party they threw for me here. In the maze.” He angles his head back to you, an unreadable expression on his features. 

“Oh,” you mumble, “I’m so sorry.” An uncomfortable silence envelops you for a moment. You remember Lyuba’s clipped warning in the bathroom, and you aren’t sure how to react.

“The rest of his family followed,” he finally offers, “so his mother left me Saltburn when she passed.” The revelation surprises you, but it makes sense. You had never seen his surname in the numerous journals, paintings, or statues that graced the halls. It seems odd that an Oxford pal came to own this massive estate. Then again, you’re just a maid. Rich people do crazy things like give away houses to friends, right? Maybe people like Lyuba and you could never understand. The few precious things you own you guard fiercely, but finery probably doesn’t seem as precious when you’re constantly surrounded by it. You can understand the grief on his face, though. His prolonged, desperate look at the drawing makes your chest twinge with sadness. 

“Wow,” you whisper. “You must miss him terribly.” The weight of his gaze rests squarely on you. His presence feels suffocatingly close, especially because everyone else has so far made themselves scarce. You haven’t had someone so near to you since Lyuba left. You fight the urge to lean in even closer. 

“Sometimes,” he admits. He lingers next to you for a moment longer before stepping back to the desk and grabbing a sheet of paper. You shake your head quickly and return to dusting, hearing his footsteps move out the door and down the hallway. You give the picture of Felix one last glance before busying yourself with the rest of the room.

~

Hands on your hips, you survey the pristine room. You feel a sense of satisfaction, having made it through your to-do list earlier than anticipated. Making your way back to your room, you decide to reward yourself with a soak in the bathtub. A hot bath. The thought alone is enough to bring a dreamy smile to your lips. The days of work haven’t been too exhausting, but your muscles are sore from adjusting to the workload.

Reaching your room, you rifle through your drawers. Grabbing out your pajamas and socks, you move on to the underwear drawer.

That’s…strange.

You rifle through the contents frantically. Where did they all go? You know you brought more than this. Only a few pairs are left. You shake your head, trying to be rational. They’re just in another drawer, you tell yourself. Hands shaking slightly, you paw through all the drawers in your dresser. By the final one, your breathing comes in raggedly, and your vision blurs with tears.

“What the fuck?” You feel sick to your stomach. Who had been in your room? Suddenly, you feel very vulnerable, too exposed. You rush to the door and try to lock it. The handle jiggles uselessly. A sob breaks from your throat as you sink to the ground. Everything feels like too much.

You miss home, your shoebox room with the ugly brown shag carpet and the tiny window to nowhere. You miss your mother, the twins, your friends. It’s so lonely here. Everyone keeps their distance, and now the one sanctuary you have to yourself feels tainted. Unsafe. If you could go back home, you would.

But you couldn’t. Well, wouldn’t. The private school the twins attend has steep fees, and Mum’s cashier job isn’t cutting it. You think she has enough to worry about as tears flow down your face freely. 

“Pull it together,” you choke out to yourself. It was probably a cruel prank, hazing the new girl. You won’t let them send you back home with your tail between your legs. You’d give your siblings a shot at a life beyond the dreary little town you grew up in. They wouldn’t have to clean other people’s houses if you had any say. Peeling yourself off the ground, you resolved to take your bath. Fuck it, you weren’t going to give up so easily. You could take the silent treatment and other nonsense if it meant a future for them.

Clutching your things, you walk to the bathtub and run the water. You can’t help but feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up, but ignore the feeling. I’m just overthinking, it’s fine. You slip out of your work dress and slide into the steamy bath. You bring your head underneath the water, heat soothing your puffy and tearstained face. You weren’t going to let this place break you.

It’s too bad the person peering through the bathroom keyhole would disagree.

~

You sleep terribly. 

The broken lock and missing panties have rattled you despite your best efforts. You spend your nights watching the door, muscles twitching in anticipation of a confrontation that never comes. Each morning, an increasingly wan face stares back at you in the mirror. 

You decide to do something about it. Your distant coworkers have offered you nothing but wary glances and clipped responses the whole time you’ve been here, so you feel certain it had to be one of them. A good boss would want his employees to feel comfortable here, so you make it your mission to bring it up with Oliver once you finish your tasks for the day.

You wander the house looking for him, nervously popping your head into every room. You don’t think he has business outside the house today, so you get increasingly worked up with each empty room. When you end up back in the foyer with no sign of him, you stomp out into the garden. It’s dark and chilly out, but you can’t even care. You just want somewhere private to scream. The maze beckons you. You’ve never had a chance to go inside, so you trudge right inside it.

The twists and turns are dark and disorienting. You feel your anger ebb away into fear as you make your way deeper. The cold nips at you, but you press on. How much time has even passed here? You’re tempted to turn around and try and find the exit when you see a clearing. You press onward, unsure of what lies ahead. You notice a huge statue, its form monstrous but somewhat amorphous to you in the darkness of the night. It looms menacingly over the space, filling you with dread. 

You hear rustling and nearly jump out of your skin when you realize you aren’t alone.

“W-who is it?” You call out, voice trembling. You cast your eyes around and see a man’s form in the corner.

“It’s just me,” comes the response, and you almost sigh with relief at the sound of Oliver’s voice. You sheepishly walk to him, relaxing at the edge of the clearing. “Are you alright, love?” He peers up at you with concern. 

You try to clear your throat and give a nonchalant response, but your voice comes out brittle and pinched. “Of course,” you rasp out, faltering. You don’t even realize the tears are coming out until Oliver hops to his feet and gently swipes his thumb over your cheek. The unexpectedly tender gesture has all of your exhaustion and worries pouring out.

“Hey,” he breathes, gently cupping your face.

“I’m sorry,” you sob, crying into his hands. “I haven’t been well. Someone broke my lock, a-and stole my clothes, and-“

“Woah, woah, woah, it’s okay,” he soothes, stepping in close and wiping your face. “Someone stole from you?”

“Y-yeah,” you reply.

“I’ll get the door fixed, yeah? And replace what got taken.”

“Really?” you ask, a spark of hope returning to you.

“Of course, I hate to see such a pretty girl upset,” he answers, stroking your hair. He gives you a gentle smile, and you can’t help but give him a teary smile in response. “Now, run along inside. It’s cold out here.”

“Okay,” you mumble, sniffing and drying off the last of your tears. You turn back to the entrance and walk slowly, mulling over his words. Maybe somebody does care about you here.

“Get some rest, please,” he calls after you. “I can’t have my best girl so sad.”

You stifle a giggle as you trace your way back out of the maze, slightly delirious from the attention and unexpected tears. Maybe you really will get some sleep tonight.

~

[aliferous-ly]

Sometimes Tango sees gold. He's deep in the Warden's den, so surely everything is soaked in blue and green.

Prussian blue. DePrussian blue. Like depression. Eh? Good one, right?

Tango sighs. The gold only flits in the corner of his vision and he's tired, he's endlessly tired but he can't leave until he's done. It's already been so long. He's stuck making shitty jokes to haunted faces that would sooner blastificate his face off than laugh.

But the gold. It's like stardust on his tongue. Memories of hellfire. Gorgeous gilded blackstone, the stuff from his days as a blazeling. No, more like dandelions, like sunbeams through forest branches.

Tango sticks his tongue out in concentration, hopping between crackling soulfires. Navigating his own maze requires skill! Skill that he doesn't always have, admittedly.

Releasing a quiet sigh of relief, Tango approaches an unfinished pillar. He twirls his pickaxe and gets to work. Shulker boxes surround him in short order.

So focused on his work, he misses the gold. He misses the yellow, the soft, the scorching, but it draws near all the same, getting closer and closer-

"Ah! Ow, ow, ow, ow," a voice yelps.

Tango screams, fumbling with his pickaxe and building blocks. Both fall to the ground as Tango whirls, nobody's supposed to be here, especially not-

"Jimmy?"

Jimmy sadly stomps his wing out. Black marks mar the feathers, ugly soot staining the gold. "Hi, Tango."

"What are you... How are you here? What are you doing here? You're - you're on Hermitcraft!" Tango gapes.

"Oh, um, crossover event?" Jimmy tries.

"I didn't think there was one of those right now," Tango says. He roots around in his many pockets, making a small happy noise when he finds his comm. He boots it up and peers at the list of people online.

Strangely, Jimmy's the only non-hermit. Tango scrolls through a few lines of Jimmy-Skizz banter, then sees Grian's message of a simple, "join vc".

"Grian got you on?" Tango says, still mystified.

"No, it was more of a group - Tango, quit distracting me! I trudged through all this - this hullabaloo to see you!" Jimmy punctuates this with hands placed determinedly on hips, expression set to a hopeful scowl.

Tango can't make heads or tails of it. It might have to do with the several shots of espresso coursing through his system. Or the lack of sleep. Or the concentration-fatigue, or the way his eyes have been going crossed when he peers at redstone wiring. Any number of reasons, really.

"...why?" Tango finally asks.

This stumps Jimmy. He blinks a few times and furrows his eyebrows. "Why? What d'you mean why? You're my rancher, that's why!"

Well, that's true. Tango nods. Then he paused, frowns, and shakes his head. "Wait, you can't be down here! Spoilers, Jimmy, spoilers!"

Jimmy snaps his fingers. "I'm not a hermit! And I'm certainly going to watch the videos when hermits release them. I won't spill!"

"I guess..."

"But anyway, let's get out of here. It's so stuffy and - fiery," Jimmy says. He flutters his burnt wing helpfully.

Tango wilts. His desire to see Jimmy and guilt at causing him harm wars with his ever-present need to keep working. "I'm busy, Jim. Gotta keep working. It's already been so long, the hermits are getting antsy..."

Jimmy invades his space and as the cavern trickles to silence, he wraps his arms and wings around him.

Tango's always been weak for him. He exhales. Any scrap of energy still clinging to his worn-out body vanishes, and he rocks further into Jimmy's hold.

To his credit, Jimmy just makes a small noise and adjusts so he can support his weight.

"Come on, then," Jimmy says softly. He runs his fingers through his hair. "Let's go take a rest, yeah?"

"Yeah, okay," Tango breathes. He closes his eyes and sinks into Jimmy's warmth. It's rather terrible of his fellow hermits, he thinks absentmindedly. Using his rancher for such nefarious means.

But now the glimpses of gold haunt him no longer. His precious yellow fills Tango's vision, covering him in head to toe with deep contentment.

His rancher. His rancher. Tango smiles, and everything glitters.

[annaizscribbling]

one of those Stardew drabbles where the farmer is not quite human but from different villager perspectives. Here's Sebby's

(Pt 1) (pt 2) (pt 3) (pt 4) (pt 5) (pt 6) (pt 7)

Sebastian sipped his piping hot coffee. He took it with a bit of cream these days. He was comfortably settled against his favorite windowsill, watching his wife work in the field. The sun politely warmed his pale skin. He’d gained a little color since moving to the farm, but not enough to really lose his sickly pallor. He made sure of that, wearing plenty of sunscreen.

He’s content. It’s nice to feel that way. Living in a stuffy basement, working and isolating himself felt foggy and miserable. But now, he’s happy. Calmer. He managed to get out of that old environment, and here with his wife, life finally seemed to mean something. He doesn’t long to escape and become something, instead, what he already is has become something worthwhile.

Living on a quiet farm, making breakfast for his wife, picking fruit and feeding chickens. It brings out a softness in him, a side that never fully been realized. Tenderness. Serenity. Peace.

Sebastion watches his wife chew some raw seaweed, pulled directly from her little black backpack. She’s never without that bag, as soon as she gets out of bed, it’s over her shoulder until she sleeps again. His eyes trail her bare arms as she clears some rocks. He’d given up on understanding how and why she consumes some strange foods, as long as he can wrangle her into a few balanced meals with him, he doesn’t care too much.

Her muscles are toned, far more defined than his will probably ever be. She hefts her pickaxe high above her head before brining it down onto the stone, shattering it. She’s quick to scoop up the rocks she wants as she kicks the rest to the side. His wife could do it for hours without pause, hours upon hours. Time always seemed to part for her.

She unknowingly flexes her bicep as she prepares to strike again. So strong, he can’t help but lean a little further into the window to catch a good glimpse. The little black tank top she usually wears leaves her deeply tanned olive skin on display. There’s hardly a sheen of sweat on her, which Sebastion always found strange. He takes one step outside on a summer day and he’s instantly disgusting. Somehow every hair on her face is immaculate and the thick eyeliner she applies every morning is always inexplicitly intact.

Perhaps he once thought of her as a strange woman, but now she’s his strange woman. The love of his life, the sexy farmer who he accidently stumbled into a romance with. The quiet, perhaps at times eerie, foreign city girl who changed the whole town. Who changed him …

He enjoyed watching her. It didn’t really matter what she was doing, her existence just drew him in. Sometimes he felt like a housecat unwilling to leave a sunbeam. Her radiance warmed him, calmed him, it made him feel like he was exactly where fate wanted him to be. She was the sun, or at least she was his. It didn’t matter what he was, so long as he could bask in her presence.

Speak of the devil, Sebastian doesn’t realize she’s come back inside until the front door opens. He discovers that he’s smiling before he’s even realized he’s turned his head to look at her.

Short curls that don’t seem to care for gravity and its rules. Freckled olive skin. Big brown eyes that seem to melt anybody who stares into them long enough. Muscles that he longs to caress and be wrapped up in each morning. Big heavy boots who have seen more monster blood and dirt than most do in their lifetimes. A shy smile.

The Farmer. His wife.

“Hey, Babe,” Sebatian says, “want some coffee? I woke up early from a nightmare and couldn’t fall back asleep.”

She smiles, and it’s so genuine that even now that they’ve been married a year, his heart just swells with that fluttery kinda love. His wife wasn’t a huge talker, it’s not that she didn’t talk at all, but she often spoke with her face. At this moment, her soft eyes are telling him everything he needs to know.

Soon, they’re cuddled together on the big sofa his mother had built. A cup of coffee for each of them rests on the coffee table. She’s resting her head on his lap, looking up at him with a dreaminess he’s sure is present on his own face.

“I have a gift for you,” she whispers, reaching into her bag, which she slipped off her shoulder and onto the rug. “Eyes closed, please.”

Sebastian does as he’s told. He feels her warm hands pry open his cold one, and something chilly is pushed into his palm. One side of his mouth turns up in a knowing smile. He knows what the gift is by the shape, and it charms him just as much as it did the first time she brought him one.

“A frozen tear,” Sebastian says fondly, holding up the glassy, perpetually cold little tear. He loves collecting them, keeping them, studying them. The first one she ever gave him is his favorite. He even had Clint turn it into a necklace. It’s under his hoodie on a chain even now, slightly cold, pressing against his chest, gently reminding him how much somebody loves him.

“It’s perfect,” Sebastian says, rubbing his thumb over the round base of the tear.

She tries to give him another one, but Sebastion laughs and tells her to stop spoiling him. He’ll take it later, when he doesn’t see it coming. One gift a day is already so much, especially combined with getting to hold her every night. A man’s heart can only handle so much.

Sometimes he wonders how she could possibly be of this world. She’s an angel. She’s a celestial being who commands the earth below her feet by purely existing. He’s sure of it some days. The plants grow like they’re reaching for her somehow. The waters always bring a fresh fish for her hook within seconds. The two can go looking for seashells together, but they’ll wash up to shore just for her, surely they must be. She heals weary souls by simply talking to her. Her farm animals love her, managing to produce perfect eggs and milk through their adoration for her.

Sebastion didn’t really know what she was, but he loved her.

[smallest-sunbeam]

The Bluey sleeper didn’t look right on any of the build a bears I own, but it looks perfect on Bee!!

[moraxsthrone]

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ — KAEYA'S WEDDING DAY: HEADCANONS

consider yourself warned: sfw. agonizing fluff. depending on how much of a sap you are, you may want to have some tissue handy?

♡ when the massive doors of the cathedral open, it’s a long walk to the altar where he’s waiting for you. 

♡ what feels like half the city of mond turns to look at you as you make your way down the aisle, but the whole world disappears when you see him. 

♡ as though casting a spotlight on him, a lone sunbeam illuminates the space where your fiancée stands, proud and tall.

♡ the sight of him takes your breath away. 

♡ he’s decked out in his knights of favonius-issued dress uniform, complete with his captain rank insignia displayed on the shoulder and breast of his coat - a rare sight indeed. 

♡ (you can thank jean later.) 

♡ he even had a matching white eyepatch with gold trim tailored especially for the occasion. 

♡ he looks so noble and distinguished, regal even: a prince, ready to receive his princess.

♡ pinches the bridge of his nose when he sees you, inwardly cursing himself bc he swore he wouldn’t cry. 

♡ (he wasn’t crying, his eyes were sparkling. there’s a difference, he’ll tell you later.) 

♡ his fingers swipe under his eyepatch to wipe his tears away before they can betray him.

♡ he honestly never thought he’d find himself here - standing at the altar, watching someone who loves him - the real him - walk towards him with a wide grin, glowing, wanting nothing more than to spend the rest of her life with him. him, of all people. 

♡ before he met you, he was terminally alone, resigned to a life of bachelor-hood. 

♡ because who could he even be honest with? to whom could he ever tell the truth about his identity, his past, his ancestry, and still be accepted? 

♡ he took a huge gamble the night he told you - not everything, but enough - and he’ll never forget the way you looked at him and said, “i’m so sorry you were abandoned like that. you were just a child, groomed to be played as a pawn in an old man’s war game. that should’ve never happened to you, kaeya.” 

♡ then you brushed his cerulean hair away from his right eye, smiled at him, and told him the words he never dreamed he would hear in response to his truth. “i love you, kaeya, and i’ll never abandon you. i want you to know that.”

♡ when you finally make it to the altar and he takes your hand in his, the dam breaks and your muffled sobs can be heard throughout the congregation, several of whom join you. 

♡ “you look so handsome, kaeya,” you tell him in a choked whisper. 

♡ “and you look stunning as always, my love," he mouths back, his thick eyelashes wet with unshed tears.

♡ nearly every elderly lady in mondstat is in attendance and CRYING HER FUCKING EYES OUT.

♡ if your own grandmother is in attendance, she’s crying even harder bc she’s the lucky one who gets to have kaeya alberich as her grandson-in-law.

♡ the knights host an “official” reception for the entire city. it’s too formal and stuffy for your and kaeya's taste. but the two of you remain in your wedding attire and play the part, maintaining decorum as you receive the city's well-wishes and gifts.

♡ but as soon as it’s over, you both breathe sighs of relief, change into your street clothes and head over to angel’s share for your “personal” reception where only your closest friends and loved ones gather for a night of drinking and shenanigans.

♡ even diluc finds an opportunity to pull kaeya aside and bid him congratulations. and for once kaeya genuinely thanks him without tacking on a cheeky comment afterward. it’s a heartfelt exchange between brothers, man to man.

♡ just before midnight, kaeya brushes past you, stealthily telling you to meet him on the balcony before continuing on up the spiral staircase. 

♡ moments later, you find an excuse to break from the conversation you’ve been stuck in and follow him. 

♡ you ease the balcony door open to find your husband leaning with his elbows on the wooden railing, looking out onto the street below. 

♡ he turns his head to look at you with pure adoration in his eye and a genuine smile that says he’s happy that you’ve managed to join him there. 

♡ he stands up straight and reaches into his coat to pull out a bottle of champagne. 

♡ “kaeya! did you sneak that from the bar stash?” 

♡ “sshhhh. it’s better if you don’t know. plausible deniability.” 

♡ “i can’t take you anywhere.” 

♡ “now what kind of pirate would i be if i didn’t steal some booze?” 

♡ you shake your head at him and giggle as he pops the top, a little of the bubbly spilling over the bottleneck. 

♡ “to us”, he toasts simply. 

♡ “to us,” you agree. 

♡ he kisses you there on the tiny balcony of angel’s share, sweet and tender, and it becomes the most memorable moment of your entire wedding day. 

♡ after all the fanfare and the hooplah, it is on the balcony of an old, dusty tavern where it’s just the two of you, and you finally have a quiet moment of romantic respite. 

♡ he calls you mrs. alberich for the first time and asks you for a dance. 

♡ the music and atmosphere downstairs is cheery and upbeat, but you dance slowly together to the beat of your own hearts. 

♡ with your head tucked under his chin, your ear pressed to his chest, you look over and see the hand that holds yours and there’s a golden ring. 

♡ it has your name engraved inside the band ‘y/n alberich’, just as yours does his. 

♡ and so with a stolen bottle of champagne as your witness, you dance hand in hand, cheek to cheek, whispering the first of the same promises to each other that you will for years to come.

kaeya m.list

♡ reblog, if you please? i kiss.

[griffinkid]

"I'll protect you!"

"You're so tiny, what could you possibly protect me from?"

"Sadness"

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana Mini-HCs: Brainrot's Masterlist, Pt 2

MC wearing a onesie in public

When MC needs to stop eating sugar

M6’s slippers

When MC fumbles their words a lot

M6 building MC a gift basket

M6 getting caught making out with MC

Siren MC fails to lure the M6

MC serenading M6

M6 accidentally flustering MC

M6 finding their name in MC’s mehendi

When MC rants about their obsession

MC with seasonal allergies

M6 seeing MC sing on stage for the first time

M6 when they met MC as a child

MC referring to a fictional crush as “my partner” in front of M6

When MC’s familiar is a crab

M6 finds MC sleeping with their body pillow

MC takes M6 on a date in the magic realms

When MC crochets/knits everything

MC following a sunbeam like a cat

When M6 ask for a cheek kiss and get one on the mouth instead

When MC fidgets in front of a mirror from anxiety

MC with a dog familiar

Calling M6 by their full name

When MC stims aggressively

MC saying they’re proud of M6

M6 having curly fries

When MC has lots of freckles/moles/marks

M6 watching MC “die” in a play

M6 with a painter MC

When MC gets cuddly when they’re tired

When MC’s familiar is a hawk

M6 when MC forgets to take care of themself

M6 when MC’s familiar can talk

When MC is expressive/dramatic

When the silent treatment makes MC anxious

M6 playing the Sims

When M6’s baby laughs at something random

When MC doesn’t like to kiss on the lips

M6 whistling

MC with a HUGE familiar

MC with a surprisingly high voice

M6 when MC is scared of spiders

When MC’s familiar is a rat

M6 giving MC jewelry

MC's parents doting on M6

When MC sings out their bad feelings

When M6 try to carry MC and drop them

When MC has a cat familiar

When M6 walk in on MC's midnight feast

MC giving the M6 a flower

Doing each other's makeup

MC who praises but refuses to be praised

When MC shaves their head

When MC is Muriel's younger sibling

Carrying M6 bridal style

When MC uses flowers to insult people

M6 when MC contorts their body to stretch

When teen!MC is tall for their age

When MC is M6's long lost sibling

When MC is allergic to M6's familiar

MC and M6 take a spa day

Snowball fight!

MC stabbing corn romantically

MC meeting their long-lost sibling

When MC babies the M6's familiars

M6 when MC works while sick

When MC shreds on the guitar

With a magic-obsessed MC

M6 under a truth-telling spell

MC with crow wings

M6 doing yoga

When MC has a bunny familiar

When MC inherits Morga's familiar

M6 with MC's well-loved stuffie

When M6's kid says "I wanna marry MC when I grow up"

M6 when MC is Julian's childhood friend

M6 during the winter holidays

M6 at the gym

When MC has a kid from a previous relationship

M6 with a Gender-Fluid MC

Teen!MC gets kicked out by their parents

When Teen!MC's parents try to get them back

When MC is afraid of the dentist

M6 with a clumsy MC

M6's parents when MC is their long-lost child

MC asking M6 to crack their back with a hug

When MC says "I want a baby ... pet."

M6 with an MC who forgets to shower/change

M6 and MC getting lost without magic

M6 dropping MC during a trust fall

Taking care of drunk M6

M6 as fairy tales

M6 and MC in the Caramelldansen meme

When MC speaks in riddles

M6 when MC makes chocolate sculptures

When MC is a Centaur

M6 when MC writes songs for them

When M6's kid says "I wanna be just like you."

MC giving M6 a scrapbook of their love story

[farmerlarrry]

Orange Slices (Joel Miller x f!reader)

masterlist | chapter fifteen | chapter fourteen | read on ao3 | playlist

story summary: A story about finding companionship and love in the midst of chaos.

word count: 6047

if you want to be notified when I post new chapters, follow @farmerlarrrylibrary and put on notifications! If you'd rather be tagged, just let me know.

Chapter Sixteen

A heat radiating across your cheek draws you from your drunken sleep. Your eyelids are heavy as they slowly flutter open. Immediately, you are blinded by a bright light. Instinctively, you bring your hands up to cover your eyes, slowly spreading your fingers to acclimate your vision. 

A sunbeam sneaks through an uncovered corner of the boarded-up window, spreading a thin streak of warm light across the darkened room. The corner of the cardboard used to board the window began curling in on itself most likely from the melting snow leaking through the poorly sealed edges. 

Your head feels fuzzy, a tingling sensation quickly forms at the base of your neck as you swing your legs over the side of the couch, propping yourself upright. As the fuzziness intensifies and your head begins to spin, a small painful groan escapes from your throat and you slump back against the cushions of the couch, pressing the heels of your palms firmly against the sockets of your eyes. The pressure seems to soothe the ache a bit, offering you some sense of relief. 

Steadily sucking in some of the stuffy air, you take a few deep breaths, desperate to gain a sense of clarity before having to go on patrol. You desperately hoped the influx of oxygen would solve the painful state of your hangover. 

A soft snore causes you to drop your arms and open your eyes. Joel is sprawled out on the couch in front of you. One leg is bent, his foot firmly pressed against the concrete floor; the other leg is straight, his ankle propped up by the cushioned armrest and his ankle dangling just past the edge. He has one hand resting just below his ribcage, his shirt had become twisted against his torso at some point during the night, exposing a sliver of skin just above his pantline. You continue to let your eyes wander, your lips parting slightly as your mouth becomes dry. 

Another soft snore comes from him, drawing your attention away from his lower section, and you slightly smile to yourself, now watching his silhouette as a whole; specifically the smooth rise and fall of his broad chest. 

You let out a groan as you push yourself off the couch, tugging on the light pull of one of the lamps. You didn’t want to wake Joel–not yet. However, you wanted enough light to move around freely.

As the room illuminated, you looked toward Joel, partially afraid the much brighter light than anticipated would wake him. He remained still, another snore filling the silent room.

Running your hands along your face, you lightly slap your cheeks in a desperate attempt to wake yourself fully. You take in the now lit-up room before you as you turn slowly on your heel. Empty bottles of liquor lay on their sides, both on the coffee table and the floor. The records had been spread across the floor in front of the player that remained on. You slightly cringed at the fact, wondering how much power it must have drained from the generator.

Between the empty bottles and records, the events of last night flooded your memory. Joel holding you against his body, the steady sway of the two of you becoming one, the low vibration from his humming in your ear, his breath moist and wet against your neck.

A small shiver crawled down your spine the more you thought of it.

The rest of the night was a blur, honestly. The two of you drank…endlessly, apparently. And you talked–about what? You can’t remember. You don’t exactly recall when you laid down, if it was you or Joel who called it night, or how late you stayed up. And although patrol would surely be a bitch to do with your hangover, you weren’t entirely sure if you regretted any of it–the drinking, the dancing, the talking. 

You let out a drawn-out exhale, bringing you back to the present moment. Staring for a moment longer, you decide to tidy the place up. It’s not a crime that you and Joel were there–the forgotten building wasn’t owned by anyone–but it’d be the best if no one suspected you were there with him, alone. 

Starting with the bottles, you gather them up one by one; to hold them all, you end up having to use both of your arms, clutching them tightly against your midsection to keep them from clinking together and dropping. The hard part came when it was time to dispose of them in the bin. It was already half full with dozens of other glass bottles. Thankfully, you managed to keep the noise to a minimum.

Then you turned your attention to the records, stacking them how you remember James did at one point. The lone vinyl still on the player was returned to its respective sleeve, and the player was switched off.

For the most part, it looked as if the building remained untouched. In a few hours, the heavy scent of alcohol was sure to air out and then no one would know anyone had been there.

Turning away from the table that held the record player, now facing the entrance of the building, your eyes glaze up past the clock. Your heart drops as you process the hand positions and you look at it again. The clock reads half past eight, your stomach now twisting in a tight knot.

You and Joel were late for patrol. 

“Shit,” you spit the profanity through your teeth, rushing to your boots that sat neatly at the side of the couch. “Joel… Joel,” You peer up at him through your brows as you frantically lace your boots. The flimsy laces kept getting tangled with your fingers, and the fact Joel had not moved a single muscle, despite you yelling his name furthered your frustration.

Before your mind could process it, your actions becoming a blur in your state of mind, you were by his side, your hand slightly hesitating before gently shaking him. He let out a groggy moan which resulted in you shaking him a bit more aggressively. This time, his eyelids fluttered a few times before opening and narrowing at you in annoyance.

He incoherently grumbled something, bringing his hand up to his eyes and covering them. You glanced once more at the clock, turning on your heel toward the door.

“We’re late. Time to get up.” Your tone is sarcastically sweet as you grab his jacket from the coat rack and toss it toward him. It lands just short of the couch and Joel grabs it midair before it can fall to the ground. 

“What?” Joel asked in a low and heavy tone, his face twisting in confusion. 

Zipping up your jacket, you put one of your hands on the threshold of the door. “Patrol,” you simply state. 

Joel scoffs, standing from the couch and shrugging on his jacket. 

“What are you talking about, it’s only–” He starts and you poke your head in one last time, just enough to see him glance up at the wall clock. “Shit.”

–

Joel is trailing behind you as you rush through the town square toward the entrance. Your backpack straps keep slipping off your shoulders, so as to not waste any time, you decided to not adjust them properly against your body–you’d do it once you were on Lucky and past the gates.

 Joel kept whispering profanities to himself, trying to adjust his belt, the straps of his backpack, kicking at his loose shoelace all while trying to keep up with you; you wanted to tell him that doing that would only slow him down more, but decided to keep your mouth shut, and just focus on getting to your destination.

“You know, I’ve never overslept,” Joel calls out after you, his voice breathy and strained. “Not once.”

“Me either,” You respond somewhat bitterly. “Guess there’s a first time for everything, right?” 

Joel responds with an amused snort.

As you come closer to the stables, you see James’ back, in a conversation with one of the stable hands. Your lungs were now burning and the cool air was steadily making each breath feel like glass shards in your chest. 

“Fuck,” The word came out sharp. Joel let out a small hm, seemingly curious of your dismay.

You look over your shoulder at him, his hand is fumbling with the buckle of his belt–a sight you’d usually relish, but right now…all you could think about was James and whatever bullshit he was going to stir up now. You hate admitting this, you deserved to be scolded for being late. The thing that bothered you the most was the fact that James would be the one doing it.

Blinking once, then twice, you jut your chin in James’ direction. Joel quickly caught on, letting out an annoyed groan.

The stable hand made eye contact with you, his eyes widening before glancing away, focusing back on James; his mouth moving–saying something–and admittedly nodding. One more glance toward you, he then lifted his hand pointing a curled finger in your direction, trying to be subtle. As James turned, the other male quickly retreated into the stables. 

James was pissed, you saw it all over his face; his cheeks stained pink, his mouth set in a deep frown, and his eyebrows tightly knitted together. A fire burned in his bright blue eyes when he noticed Joel straggling behind you. 

You slowed your pace, a part of you wanted to go back to last night and live in that moment forever. You didn’t want to deal with James or his animosity toward you or Joel, you just wanted whatever was between the two of you to be done and over with; for the two of you to just pretend that you were nothing more than strangers.

Setting your eyes just past James on the wooden gate leading to the stables, you start toward him angling your body so you will just barely pass by him. If James was smart, given the past week, he’d keep quiet, not daring to make a move toward you. Sure he was a nice guy, like Charles said, but he had no idea how to take a hint–and when he finally got it, he acted like a child going and telling on you to Maria and Tommy.

Just as you are about to pass him, a breath of relief about to escape your lungs, James takes a step in front of you. The undesired closeness causes you to stagger back, putting a few feet between you and him. His nose crinkled as he squinted in the morning sun, shielding his eyes with his hand as he took you in. 

“You’re late.” He said quietly, his tone had no fluctuations and wasn’t portraying the anger previously portrayed on his face. If anything he just sounded bored.

Glancing over your shoulder, Joel stayed a step behind you, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. You could tell he was trying to seem uninterested in James, and maybe if you didn’t know him it would appear that way; but you knew James was one smart-mouthed remark from being socked in the face.

“Yeah, thanks,” was all you could manage to get out. You tried to step around him, but he reached out grabbing your arm, pulling you back toward him. Joel instantly came between the two of you breaking James’ hold of you and pushing him back. 

James frowned looking between you and Joel as he staggered backward, grabbing the fence to steady himself. “I mean that you’re too late,” he continued, peering past Joel and looking directly at you. “I already sent Drew and Nora to cover your patrol.”

“We’ll go out and send them back.” Joel grumbled, his knuckles white as he gripped onto the strap of his backpack. James shifted his stance, now looking at Joel. The anger showed on his face again.

“It’s too late,” he stated again, this time more firmly. “I’m sure you’ll find somewhere else to be useful today.” 

Before James could completely finish his sentence, Joel stormed past him, knocking his shoulder firmly into James’. James let out a small yelp, shooting a death glare in Joel’s direction. You didn’t move a muscle, watching Joel push open the gate with so much force it slapped against the wooden fencing, faintly mumbling something to himself that you couldn’t hear clearly.

When you look back at James, he’s rubbing his shoulder, his lips tightly pressed together. 

“It’s not like I just sent them off in your place, I hope you know that.” He said as he took a step toward you now that Joel was gone. His eyes locked onto yours. “I went to your house when you didn’t show up. You weren’t there so then I went to Joel’s… I tried looking for you, I didn’t have to do that.” He was shaking his head.

You just nodded, tugging on your bottom lip with your teeth. It seemed as if the longer you didn’t say anything, the more desperate looking James became. After glancing between the open stable doors and James several times, you walked past James. 

“Wait,” He called after you, and without thought, you stopped, keeping your back toward him. “Can we talk real quick?”

You let out a small scoff, rolling your eyes. “Now you want to talk?” You raised your eyebrows as you turned to face James.

“What? I–” His tone raised loud enough for you to look around. The few people lingering shot some glances toward you, a feeling of insecurity taking over. 

“Keep your voice down.” You abruptly cut him off, glowering at him, before he could say something you really wish he wouldn’t say loud enough for others to hear. He kept his face as hard as stone. 

“I don’t like us being mad at each other,” He said much quieter this time. His words nearly made your jaw drop and a flash of anger flooded your veins.

“Are you being serious, James?” You kept the same tone as before; harsh and dry. James cocked his head to the side, his eye darting between yours. “You tried getting me kicked off of patrol duty by lying and then you actively avoided me. I tried several times to talk to you and then it got to the point where Charles had to talk to you for me.” 

Embarrassment washed over James and he looked down at the ground, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I’m sorry,” His voice was quiet but sounded sincere. “Charles did talk to me, and–and he made me realize how stupid I was acting. I’m–”

You stared at him a moment, running your tongue over the grooves on the roof of your mouth, your lips pursing as a result. His shoulders were hunched making him look small and vulnerable. You couldn’t tell if it was all an act and a way to get sympathy, or if he was truly just that; small and vulnerable.

“Are you only sorry because it backfired and you got in trouble instead?” You narrowed your eyes at him and crossed your arms. He glanced up to you, only to return his gaze to his boots.  

“I was upset–” His voice sounded weak.

“Then be a fucking adult and deal with it,” The words came out much harsher than you intended them to. James looked up at you through his brows, this time holding your gaze. You could have sworn you saw his eyes glistening with tears; the thought made your stomach go sour. 

James simply nodded before you brushed past him.

–

When you entered the stables, the stable hand whom you never learned their name immediately looked up from fumbling with one of the tangled hoses. A hint of judgment lingered in their eyes, tracking you as you walked in. As quick as the expression came over them, it disappeared, giving you a single nod, dropping the hose, and exiting through one of the side exits to the training grounds.

Embarrassment flooded your senses. Whatever he had been talking about with James, surely it was about you. Your eyes scanned the rotting wooden beams that needed replacement, biting down hard on the inner part of your cheek. 

Clattering from the back of the building tipped you off as to where Joel was and you made a beeline to him, distracting you from your embarrassment.

Walking down the aisle, you realized most of the stalls were empty and there were no other stable workers aside from the one that had been talking to James. You and Joel were the only ones there. Quite an uncommon occurrence, but not entirely implausible. Perhaps they were out loading hay from storage to bring back and considering how many empty stalls there were, a good majority had taken the horses out for rides.

When Joel finally came into view, he was throwing one of the saddles up and over onto Callus, a small grunt coming from his throat. 

“James was serious about not letting us go.” You yelled out to him as you entered the larger space. For a short moment, he stopped, only to continue, initially not saying anything in response. 

Walking up to Lucky, you ran your hand down her forehead toward her muzzle. She quietly neighed, pushing into your touch. A small smile spread across your face, one that quickly disappeared.

“I’m not staying here all day.” He eventually responded. You gave him a single nod as to say fair enough, and took a seat on a low wooden stool, kicking at the stray hay that sparsely covered the floor.

Once Joel finished, he took a seat on an overturned half barrel next to you. You gave him a sidelong glance before focusing back on the two horses. Joel crossed his arms, letting out an exhausted sigh.

“What the fuck is his problem?” He finally said. “We were never, I don’t know… on good terms, but since I’ve come back, he’s actively gone out of his way to be a dick. I just want to fucking–” Joel let out a low grunt, stopping himself from going further.

You sucked in some air while shaking your head. “It’s me, Joel.” You half lied, knowing that it's not entirely you; it’s because of how much time you spend with Joel that has James so pissed off. Joel narrowed his eyes at you, seemingly confused. “He’s upset with me, so he takes it out on everyone else. I wouldn’t take it personally.” 

You put your elbows on your knees and dropped your face into your palms. Joel’s eyes were burning a hole through you and you desperately hoped he wouldn’t press further. Surely by this point, he’s figured out that the petty drama you originally told him it was… was not just petty drama. 

Your head began to buzz, likely induced by a combination of your hangover and stress. 

Joel’s sigh caused you to give him a sidelong glance. It didn’t appear that he was too focused on you–it didn’t seem like he was focused on you at all in fact. It was good that he didn’t press further on the matter of James, because finally, things were moving in the direction you’ve been wanting to with Joel.

“We could go for a hike, take the long way to the outlook.” He suggested and leaned one arm on the knee farthest from you, shifting his body toward you. A hint of a smile appeared on his face; somewhat sympathetic looking, but you liked it when he smiled, no matter the cause.

“I’d like that very much,” You replied, returning his smile. 

–

Joel wasn’t kidding when he suggested taking the long way. This path winded up and down, around small hills and past fast moving streams. It took about twice as long to get there, but it was nice to get your heart pumping.

Naturally, Joel took the lead. It seemed like it would be a good idea for the both of you to burn off some of your pent up emotions, so neither of you said much other than the occasional direction from Joel or a random comment about the surrounding nature. 

The path you took today eventually led to the much shorter main path. When you finally arrived, you passed Joel who took a seat at the base of the boulder, opting for a seat closer to the edge of the cliff. The sky was clear today, bright blue and not a single cloud in sight. The air still has a chill to it, sending goosebumps up and down your arms and legs. Instinctively, you rub your hands against your limbs, trying to warm them up and cursing yourself for mindlessly forgetting your jacket on Lucky’s saddle.

“Here,” A warm voice appeared behind you and you twisted your torso to face the sound. Joel came up behind you, outstretching his jacket to you. 

You give him a small smile, shaking your head, which prompted him to quickly roll his eyes. Before you could reject him further, his jacket was already draped around your shoulders. He took a seat next to you on the cliff and stared out toward Jackson.

“I know I’ve already sort of told you this, but it's nice that you’re back.” You say breaking the oddly comforting silence. He snapped his neck toward you, a look of surprise took over his expression; a look that you just stared at with wide eyes.

“Yeah?” Joel replied breathily. “I don’t think a lot of people feel that way” He shook his head. 

Opening your mouth, you found yourself at a loss for words. You weren’t quite sure what to say back. Joel wasn’t exactly well liked in the community. He definitely wasn’t hated–by most–he was just…misunderstood, causing a lot of people to just ignore him. You knew firsthand how unpleasant he could be at times, plus you doubted he was ever around long enough to make any sort of deep connection with anyone. You weren’t even sure if that was something he desired. 

Joel cleared his throat, snapping you out of your thoughts. “But I suppose I’m glad one person does,” He immediately followed up, flashing you a smile and nudging you with his elbow. You just shrug, the corners of your mouth slightly turning upward. 

“When you were gone, I used to come up here quite often, usually after I got done with patrol. That was part of what James told Maria, saying it was unsafe and was a poor decision that he advised against,” You said, mimicking James’ claims in his tone of voice which made Joel chuckle. “Sometimes I’d stay a few hours, other times I’d stay until dinnertime. It was… um… this place was really the only place that brought me total peace, so I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you for showing it to me.” 

“What would I do out here?” He sounded curious.

You let out a long hum. “It depended on my mood, really. Sometimes I’d write, a lot of the time I’d read–it really made the time go by fast. Other times I’d just think. I don’t know, I just felt like this is the only place I felt like I could just… be me.” Your eyes were locked onto the edge of the cliff, your eyes frozen and unmoving.

“And here I thought all you did was drink with your friends who aren’t really your friends.” He joked.

You scoffed, half rolling your eyes as you shifted your attention to him. “Now that’s…complicated. I mostly tolerated them for Nessa’s sake. Sometimes they were fun, I won’t lie, but most of the time they were pretty–”

“Insufferable.” Joel completed your sentence, his eye shooting toward you with a petty smile on his face. You let out a low laugh, agreeing with him with a nod. A laugh escaped past his lips, one he quickly stifled with a dry cough.

“Remember how I told you I met Nessa at boarding school?” Joel hummed in confirmation. “Before Tommy found me…before I came to Jackson, all I could think about was her. Out of everyone I could have yearned for, I just wanted my best friend. I knew it wasn’t going to change the situation or make it any better, but…”

 You dropped your head and loose strands of hair now cover your face. 

“I love her to death, but she’s so different now. I never thought it would be in the realm of possibilities to see her again…now it just feels like the universe is laughing in my face.” You forced yourself to swallow against the lump that suddenly manifested in your throat. “She’s like a stranger and part of me resents her for that, and I feel like shit for feeling that way.” 

In your peripheral, you can see Joel staring at you, a blank expression on his face. Suddenly you feel stupid for expressing your feelings, ones that you should probably confine to your journal. You’d never confront Nessa about it, so what was the point of dwelling on them? 

“I’m sorry, you don’t…care. This is stupid.” 

“No, I’m…” He began. “People change, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. Either way, a part of you will always want the old them back. Don’t apologize because I get it, trust me.” Tucking your hair behind your ears, you look at Joel. “Every time I come back, Tommy seems like a whole new person, it's always sort of a shock. I still think of him as my unresponsible little brother who can’t handle his alcohol or emotions for shit. It leaves me…stunned when I realize how much he’s grown and changed. And sometimes I miss who he was because he’s become so serious in a sense. I’m sure he has some of the feelings about me, perhaps Nessa does with you.”

You let out the breath of air you had been holding in and allowed your eyes to wander back to Jackson, roaming all over the different parts of the community. It seemed so small from up here. You narrow your eyes to where the stables are, letting your vision blur a bit.

“It seems like she hates me.” You say lazily. “I don’t know what I did that made her feel that way toward me. Am I that bad of a person?” 

“No.” Joel nearly snapped back, the word coming out quick and harsh. “You aren’t a bad person, not even close.”

Dropping your head slightly, you slowly turn your head back to Joel. He has his legs stretched out, leaning back onto the palms of his hands. His chin is tilted upward as the sun caresses his tanned skin. Your heartbeat quickens as you look at him, a feeling of breathlessness coming over you. 

You begin tracing your eyes along where his jawline would be if it had not been hidden by his salt-and-pepper facial hair. His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, his eyelids fluttering closed for a moment and a peaceful look overtaking his expression. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from taking his looks in. Rugged and worn down, but so damn attractive. 

Beads of sweat begin to form on his forehead. As one begins to slide down smoothly past his temple, your eyes lock onto the scar. Deep and twisted looking, yet small enough to remain unseen if you weren’t looking for it. Your stomach went sour the longer you looked, not out of repulsion, but because of how you received your own scar, the one identical to his. 

“Ca–can I ask you something?” Your mouth moved before you could completely commit to the question, causing you to stumble on your words. 

He raised his eyebrows, before opening his eyes and shooting a sideways glance toward you. Joel gave you a slight nod as to tell you to continue. 

“What's your scar from?” The words seemed illegal as they came out, causing you to slightly cringe. It was dangerous territory asking these kinds of questions nowadays. 

There was a hitch in his breath before he dropped his head. He drew in a deep, long breath as he peered up toward you. Immediately all you saw was pain in his eyes, a darkness that you couldn’t explain, but could understand.

“I'm sorry, never mind.” The words came out quickly as you wrapped your arms around your torso.

“No, no it's uh…” Joel responded, trailing off. He inhaled sharply before smoothly letting the air out of his nostrils. “A gunshot.” 

He nodded distantly, his thoughts leading him a million miles away from you. You waited for him to elaborate but it was apparent after a few long seconds of silence that was all he was going to offer up. You weren’t going to push him further on the matter.

You just nod, eventually pointing up to your own scar “I ask because I have one too…”

A complex look comes over him and he seems to hesitate, “How–how’d you…” His eyebrow twitched as he stumbled over his words.

“Same as you. It was a FEDRA soldier that I had been doing some work for under the table. I guess I pissed him off somehow and he came to my place in the middle of the night with a gun—with the intention to kill me, not sure why he opted for a gun when everyone would have heard, but he seemed upset enough to not care if anyone heard. One of his buddies followed him though, he and I had sort of an understanding of one another and we…we were close in a certain sense. Anyway, he grabbed the gun just as it went off…the bullet grazed me, some of the shrapnel from it hitting a metal beam also hit me, so…” You brought your index finger up to your scar, running the pad of your finger over the rough edges as you recounted the night of the incident, excluding many details from being spoken. The fear you felt when you awoke to a dark silhouette standing over your bed, the cold sweat that ran down your back, the feeling of the metal against your skin, the ringing in your ears after the gun went off and how days passed and it felt like you were trying to hear underwater, until it miraculously came back. After that night you never saw the soldier you fucked over, but his friend that intervened–you saw him all the time and he was adamant about avoiding any interaction with you. When he couldn’t avoid it entirely, he never looked you directly in the eye.

“Christ,” Joel said quietly, almost as if it was meant just for him. “Well… I’m glad it didn’t work out.”

You let out a near silent sarcastic laugh, turning your attention back to the view.

“Yeah, I didn’t always see it like that. After Houston fell… I didn’t have anyone; family, Nessa,” You shook your head. “I didn’t even have myself really, I was careless because of how bad I wished I was de–” You stopped yourself before finishing completely. Surely he knew what you were going to say anyway, but you couldn’t bring yourself to actually say it out loud. “I’m happy now that it missed, though.” Your voice sounded tight.

The chirping of the birds above filled the silence that took over. If you strained your ears enough, you could have sworn you could hear the soft murmurs of the bustling community below.

“May I ask you somethin’?” Joel suddenly asked.

“Of course.” You responded immediately, focusing on two figures approaching the front gate, most likely Drew and Nora.

He took a moment before following up as if he were deeply contemplating his question. The pause made you slightly anxious prompting you to look over to him. He was running his thumb and index finger over his chin over and over. 

“Why were you at boarding school?” The words finally came out and it wasn’t the question you were expecting from him.

“Oh geez,” You said breathily, your words portray how caught off guard you were. “Well, initially I had no idea why I was being sent away. My parents told me they wanted a school that would offer me much more than an education, but experiences as well. I was annoyed, but I was 15.. 16 years old at the time so I couldn’t do much about it.” 

You drew in a smooth breath of air, the feelings all rushing back to you and becoming overwhelming.

“A few weeks after the spring semester started, my mom flew me out… Nessa was in the room next to me, so that’s how we met. Immediately we became best friends, inseparable, really,” You continued. “I found out a bit later that the reason they sent me away was because they were having marital problems, they wanted to get their affairs in order before deciding if they wanted to continue trying or if they should separate… I guess they didn’t want me in the middle of all of it. I was so upset with them, I refused to come home for the summer and to add insult to injury, I refused to talk to them after that.” 

You paused to gather your thoughts, your eyes beginning to brim with tears. “The last conversation I had with my parents was May 15th of 2003, it was the week before school got out…I told them– I told them I hated them, that I wasn’t coming home. They tried calling many times, sending letters and packages, but I just ignored them.” The words came out weak, your chest burning with guilt.

It was like you could hear the silence on the phone between your parents and yourself all over again. You felt yourself caught between the reality with Joel and your conscious state in the painful memory of your final interaction with your parents. The realization hit you like a rock, sending your emotional state spiraling.

“Oh my God Joel,” The words came out between your heavy sobs; nasally and forced. You looked over at him with tears now streaming down your face, your chin quivering uncontrollably. “The last thing I said to my parents was that I hated them.”

Without any hesitation, Joel pulled you into his arms. His warmth engulfed you completely as you nuzzled your face against his chest. Your chest heaves as you let your emotions flow, a tightness completely taking over your chest, your muscles tensing and untensing under the emotional stress.

Joel ran his hand smoothly up and down your back, his chin resting gently on top of your head. His grasp on you was firm as if he was trying to convey to you that he wasn’t going to let you go, not until you felt like you were okay. 

The birds in the surrounding trees went silent, the only noise was your muffled sobs and the whistling of the gentle breeze. 

Joel squeezed you a bit tighter, “I had–I had a daughter…before.” He spoke, the words immediately piquing your attention, distracting you from your own pain. “Her name was Sarah, and she… she–I should've been there for her more, but I–” A deep sense of pain radiated from his words.

Joel struggled to speak. You heard his heartbeat quicken when he said her name and the pain in your heart only grew stronger. For you. For him… especially for him. He had a daughter before this, all the anger and resentment… it all made sense now. 

You untucked your arms from your chest and wrapped them around his torso, opening your eyes to be present. You were staring at the ground; rocks and leaves and sticks.

He cleared his throat, loosening his grip around you, but not letting go completely. With one hand he grabbed your shoulder, gently squeezing it, the other hand firmly planted on the middle of your back.

“Coming from someone who was a parent, they knew… know that you love them.” His mouth is hovering over your ear as he speaks. His voice is now more stable and clear than before. “No matter what you told them, they knew.”

read chapter seventeen here!

painting divider | credit: @cottage-writings

[griseldabanks]

Maybelle and the Beast

My contribution to the @inklings-challenge Four Loves Fairy Tale Challenge. This was my back-up idea for last year, so I was excited to have an excuse to finally write it out! Beauty and the Beast is my favorite fairy tale, and I have a feeling I may revisit this particular version again in the future, because I could definitely turn this into a novel ;) I'll admit to taking a lot of inspiration from Robin McKinley's retellings of this fairy tale.

Maybelle stared at the tall, imposing mahogany door. She felt just as reluctant to open it as if it had been the barred portal to a dungeon—like the cold stone chamber she'd explored early on in her stay here, which she expected had been a dungeon once but was now a wine cellar.

More to stall for time than anything else, Maybelle brushed off her rust red skirt and straightened her collar. It was a nervous habit, but in a way it also served to remind her of why she was here, because of who had given her these clothes. Days, weeks, months in this huge, empty mansion, alone except for one companion. The companion who had slammed this very door not half an hour ago.

Taking a deep breath, Maybelle knocked firmly on the door.

“Go 'way,” a muffled voice growled out to her.

Letting out her breath again in an impatient huff, Maybelle crossed her arms. “Are you still sulking, Agnes?”

“I am not sulking,” the voice insisted sulkily.

“Right. You're lying in bed at three in the afternoon, glaring a hole in the ceiling, for your health.”

After a heavy silence, a loud click told her the key had turned in the hole. Taking that as an invitation, Maybelle opened the door and stepped inside.

The heavy drapes had been pulled closed, leaving the bedroom in a stuffy half-light. The only illumination came from the embers of the fire dying in the fireplace. She could barely even make out the silhouette of a large bulk lying in the huge four-poster. It was like stepping into a sickroom.

Rolling her eyes at the drama of it all, Maybelle closed the door with a snap and made a beeline for the window closest to the fireplace. She pulled the curtains aside, letting a band of lazy afternoon sunlight stretch across the carpet, revealing the twisting patterns of vines and roses. After a moment's consideration, Maybelle decided not to open the curtains of the other window nearest the bed. Best not to annoy Agnes any further with a sunbeam in her eyes. She would probably just wave her hand and make the curtains close, then stick together so Maybelle couldn't open them again. Instead, Maybelle contented herself with throwing the window open and letting in the delicious scents of flowers and the buzzing of bees from the gardens.

“There,” she said, drawing in a deep breath of the fresh smell of spring. “Much better.”

With a grunt, the huge lump on the bed rolled over.

Maybelle walked up to the foot of the bed and stood there with her hands on her hips, just waiting. How strange, to remember how frightened she had been the first time she'd ventured into this room. Or how her knees had nearly given out the first time she'd dared to meet the gaze of the terrible Beast who was to be her captor.

It had been months since she'd ceased to be the Beast, and became instead...simply Agnes.

“Well?” Maybelle said, when it became clear Agnes wasn't about to break the silence. “Aren't we going to at least talk about this?”

The long tail lying on top of the blue bedspread flicked irritably, like a huge cat's. “What's to talk about?” Agnes retorted, her voice grumbling like a motorcar in her massive chest. “Clearly, you don't care what happens to me, as long as you get to go have fun without me.”

Closing her eyes for a moment, Maybelle sent up a silent prayer for patience. “Well, for starters,” she said, her voice coming out more sharply than she'd intended, “you called me an awful lot of horrid names, and I thought perhaps you might want to apologize.”

A long, pregnant pause. Finally, with a long-suffering groan from the bed, Agnes rolled over onto her back, her arms tucked up against her chest almost like a dog waiting for a belly rub. The long, black skirt did little to hide her bowed legs ending in sharp claws, and from this angle, her long saber teeth and curled goat-like horns were no longer hidden in her mountain of pillows.

Agnes sighed in resignation. “Sorry for calling you a selfish, bird-brained floozy.”

Maybelle nodded. “Apology accepted. And...I'm sorry too. For calling you a heartless, hairy pig.”

Their eyes met across the room. Agnes let out a snort, followed by a loud guffaw, and suddenly Maybelle found herself laughing as well. The tight coil of anger and bitterness loosened in her chest as she tipped her head back and let her higher-pitched laughter harmonize with Agnes' deep, hefty chuckles.

Still giggling, Maybelle crossed over and flopped onto the huge bed beside Agnes. She felt so tiny in this bed, like a doll. And yet, even though she was sure Agnes could snap her like a twig if she so desired, Maybelle didn't feel a shred of fear to lie a mere foot away from her.

For a couple minutes, they merely lay there, staring up into the canopy over the four-poster. Maybelle had just realized the stars embroidered there formed constellations and was looking for Orion when Agnes broke the silence.

“You were right, you know.” Her voice was a low, sad rumble like a locomotive rushing past in the night. “I am a pig.”

“Oh, no!” Maybelle raised herself on one elbow, looking over in alarm. “Please, forget those awful things I said. It was very wrong of me to call you that.”

Agnes turned her head aside, but Maybelle thought she caught the sight of a tear glistening in one eye. “You were only speaking the truth. Like you always do. I am heartless. Because I care more about not being alone than I do about you getting a chance to see your family. Even when all you ask is to go to your sister's wedding...I'm too selfish to let you go.”

Slowly, Maybelle lowered herself to her pillow again. She wasn't quite sure what to say, so she spoke slowly, picking her words carefully. “I wasn't thinking of you either. I'm sorry, Agnes. I know...I mean, I can imagine how lonely it must get here, in this huge mansion all alone. But it would only be for the weekend. Just enough to meet Edward and see Adeline off. I'd be back before you could miss me too much.”

“You...would come back?”

Agnes' voice sounded so hesitant and tremulous, Maybelle looked over in surprise, but she couldn't make out her friend's expression past the horn and the unruly mane of hair. “Of course I'll come back. That's part of the deal.”

The silence seemed to congeal between them. Neither of them had mentioned the deal Agnes and Maybelle's father had worked out, not since...Maybelle couldn't even remember. During the past several months, it had become easy to forget how all of this began. When Maybelle had first arrived at the mansion, she'd shut thoughts of home out of her mind as much as possible, to make her dreadful fate a little more bearable. If she weren't constantly thinking of the little cottage or trying to imagine what her father and sisters were up to, perhaps she could carve a small measure of contentment out of her exile. It was a small price to pay for her father's life, after all.

But it had been months since Maybelle had seriously believed that Agnes would have eaten her father. Not after she'd seen the delicate way Agnes handled the gardening tools when she tended to her enchanted rose bushes. Not after the way she'd cradled that finch's body in her enormous hands, huge tears rolling down her hairy face as she muttered spell after spell that fizzled out, unable to bring the tiny animal back to life.

Not after scores upon scores of cozy evenings by the fire, laughing together as Maybelle tried to teach Agnes how to knit with two iron pokers, or taking turns reading from one of the books in the huge library.

For the first time, Maybelle tried to imagine what life must have been like for Agnes in all the years before her father had shown up on the doorstep. Sitting alone in front of a guttering fire. Pacing the dark, dusty hallways, with nothing to hear but the echoes of her own footsteps. Wandering the grounds, able to turn the seasons at a word and the weather at a glance, but with nothing but the birds and bees to listen to her words. A library that magically seemed to provide exactly the book she wanted to read, but all the stories of friendship and adventure only serving to mock her solitude.

“I promise I'll come back,” Maybelle said firmly. “Deal or no deal. I won't leave you alone forever.”

A strange, strangled sound escaped Agnes, quickly disguised in a clearing of her throat. “Well,” she said gruffly, “good. But if you don't come back in three days, I'll die.”

Maybelle rolled her eyes. Always so dramatic.

-----

It was raining when Maybelle returned to the mansion. Since it was midsummer out in the rest of the world, she hadn't thought to pack a coat, so she just ducked her head and hurried up the gravel walk to the great front doors. This wasn't a summer rain, either; the chilly breeze cut right through the thin sleeves of the flower-patterned dress Violette had made for her.

The front doors seemed heavier than usual. Normally, they swung open at the first touch of her hand, but this time Maybelle had to throw her shoulder against one to open it. Perhaps Agnes had left a window open somewhere and there was a draft. Though that seemed strange; surely Agnes would have either closed the window or shifted the weather instead of letting all this cold rain blow in.

Maybelle turned back to glance out the door. It looked like Agnes had fully committed to a dreary late November today. The bare branches of the trees clacked together while the wind howled through them, cold raindrops splashing in puddles that turned the walkways to mud. It made her wonder if the rain had kept up the whole time she'd been away.

Shivering, Maybelle heaved the front door closed again, picked up her bag, and started towards the stairs. “Agnes!” she called, her voice echoing around the huge entryway. “I'm home!”

She was halfway up the stairs, struggling with her free hand to unpin her hair and wring out some of the water, when she realized the lamps were dark. Her feet slowed to a stop in the lush carpeting, and she frowned up at the huge chandelier that hung over the open space. Every time she'd set foot in this hall—or anywhere else in the house, for that matter—candles lit themselves and lamps burst to life. At first, she'd found it frightening, especially when she would walk down a long, straight corridor with the candles flaring up in front of her and winking out behind her, leaving her in a bubble of illumination.

But after all these months, she'd grown used to such things. Doors opening at a touch, lamps lighting on their own, plates of food and cups of tea appearing on tables right when she wanted them, a bath drawn and waiting for her without even the hint of a servant in sight. It was all part of the magic of this place. Agnes' magic.

In the cold darkness and silence, Maybelle suddenly remembered what Agnes had said before her trip. If you don't come back in three days, I'll die.

A chill ran down her spine that had nothing to do with her soaked dress. Surely Agnes had just been exaggerating, the way she so often did. Like that time she'd said she felt like she'd been alone in this mansion for a hundred years. Or when she said she lived under a curse.

But still...where was she? After all the fuss she'd made when Maybelle had first asked to leave, why wasn't she waiting for her? Was she sulking in her room again?

“Agnes!” Maybelle called again, slowly climbing the rest of the stairs. “I'm back! Where are you?”

Nothing but silence to welcome her.

Her footsteps slowed as she reached the top of the stairs and turned to the right, heading for her room. The corridor was wide enough that there wasn't much danger of bumping into things, but it was all so eerie without candles lighting her way. She paused at the corner, where a tall window offered a bit of cold illumination.

Shivering, Maybelle looked out at the darkening grounds, still lashed by the driving rain. The rosebushes looked like they were taking a beating, magic or no magic. Even as she watched, the wind stripped leaves off the branches, and most of the brightly-colored petals were already gone. What on earth was Agnes thinking? Even in her most fickle moods, she would usually relent if she realized it would endanger her precious roses....

Maybelle frowned. What was that dark lump in the middle of the path? She hadn't noticed it as she rushed up the front drive, but from this higher vantage point, she could see it clearly. Was it a tarp caught under a wheelbarrow, knocked onto its side in all this wind?

No. Those weren't the handles of a wheelbarrow. They were horns. Two horns, curled like a goat's, rising from a big hairy head lying in the mud....

Dropping everything, Maybelle grabbed her dripping skirts and raced back down the corridor. She hopped up onto the banister as she'd done so many times before and slid expertly to the bottom. Laughing as Agnes tried to imitate her and toppled over the side in a heap.

She ran to the front door and heaved it open, letting go as the howling wind gusted in and slammed it back against the wall. “Last one inside's a rotten egg!”

The rain almost seemed to be falling horizontally, the wind was so strong. Holding up an arm to shield her face, Maybelle splashed along the muddy path as fast as she could. Walking along the path, crunching through the snow, leaving behind a neat row of shoe prints and paw prints side-by-side.

“Agnes!” Maybelle screamed, the wind stealing her voice, as she turned down an aisle between the rosebushes. “You were wrong when you said there was nothing beautiful about you, Agnes. Just look at your roses!”

There she lay, like a mound of dirt, one arm flung around a rosebush as if to protect it, the other curled tight against her chest. She wasn't moving.

“Agnes?” Maybelle dropped to her knees in a puddle by Agnes' side. Throwing her weight against Agnes' huge shoulder, she managed to roll her onto her back. But how would she ever drag her up into the house?

A weak groan escaped Agnes' lips, and her eyelids fluttered, then slid open. “May...belle?”

Hot tears stung Maybelle's eyes. “Thank goodness!” she cried, grasping Agnes' hand in both of hers. “I thought you were....”

Agnes slowly opened her hand, and Maybelle saw that it was cupped around a small, bedraggled red rose. Most of the petals were gone, and those that remained looked wilted.

“Last one,” Agnes grunted. “Not much...time now.”

“It's all right,” Maybelle said, trying to give her an encouraging smile. “We can replant. Once you're feeling a little stronger, maybe you can turn the weather back to spring and—“

“No.” A shudder ran through Agnes' whole body, and her face twisted in a horrible grimace of pain. “No starting over. No...No use.”

“What are you talking about?” Maybelle patted her friend's hand. “Of course we can start over. We can always start over.”

“But...we sh-shouldn't.” Agnes' voice grew fainter by the minute, and Maybelle had to lean closer to hear. “Just...go back home...Maybelle.”

Icy fingers of dread closed around Maybelle's heart. “What? No! I made a promise, remember? I'm to stay here in my father's place—“

“I release you.” Her big amber eyes rolled to meet Maybelle's, bloodshot and exhausted, but crystal clear. “It was...wrong. I...was wrong. To make you stay...against your will. So...I...re...lease...you....”

With that final whisper, her eyes slid closed, and her head lolled back onto the ground. A shiver, like a tiny electric pulse, ran through Maybelle's whole body, and she knew that some sort of spell had just ended.

“No, Agnes!” Frantically, Maybelle chafed Agnes' hands, patted her cheeks, loosened her collar. “Agnes, you don't understand! I'm not here against my will! We're friends, Agnes! I want to be here!”

The huge beast didn't move. This wasn't like the times Agnes sulked and refused to talk to Maybelle. She couldn't even tell if Agnes was breathing anymore.

Desperate to do something, Maybelle tried to heave Agnes into her arms, but the most she could manage was to cradle Agnes' head in her lap. Tears mingled with rainwater on her furry cheeks.

What if she were dead already? What would Maybelle do then? Go back to her family? But there would be no more strolling through the gardens in the evening, no more reading by firelight, no more long conversations or teaching each other games or trying to braid each other's hair or teaching Agnes how to dance or listening to her wonderful singing voice or laughing at each other's silly jokes or....

“Don't be stupid, Agnes!” Maybelle sobbed. “You're my best friend. The best friend I've ever had. No one knows me like you do. No one cares like you do. If I knew this would happen to you, I never would have gone away.”

Maybelle rested her cheek against Agnes' forehead, in between the horns, and rocked back and forth, holding her best friend close. “I'm sorry, Agnes...I'm sorry.... I never wanted to lose you. I just...I just wanted to keep being your friend. Always. Forever.” A painful sob ripped out of her chest as her best friend's body lay cold and still in her arms. “I love you, Agnes.”

Faintly, Maybelle was aware that the wind had died down, and raindrops no longer pounded down on her head and shoulders. The realization of what that meant only made her cry harder. Her fingers tangled in Agnes' mane of hair as she mumbled over and over again, “I love you, Agnes...I love you....”

“Love you too.”

Maybelle looked up at those gruff words, then gave a great start as she realized she held a complete stranger in her arms.

The woman she held was large, with broad shoulders and a squarish jaw. She was no great beauty, especially not with disheveled brown hair straggling all over the place or her body swimming in Agnes' oversized dress, but there was something comfortable and familiar about....

Wait. “Ag...nes?”

Moving stiffly, the woman held her own hands up in front of her face and turned them around, as if she'd never seen them before. Slowly, a wondering smile crossed her face, and Maybelle noticed this woman's front teeth protruded slightly.

Not too unlike the huge fangs that had curved from Agnes' lips.

Then she raised her eyes to meet Maybelle's, and there was no doubt. Those were the amber-brown eyes of her best friend.

“Agnes!”

They threw their arms around each other, and they were crying, but they were also laughing, and Agnes was trying to tell her something about a fairy and a flower and a curse, but Maybelle was too distracted by how small Agnes was in her arms. How high Agnes' voice was.

“How?” she gulped, pulling back and holding Agnes at arms' length. “How did this happen?”

“It's all you, silly!” Agnes laughed, swiping her sleeve over Maybelle's cheeks to dry her tears. She still moved carefully, as if afraid of accidentally swiping Maybelle with nonexistent claws. “True love breaks any curse, don't you know that?”

“True love?” Maybelle sniffled.

Tears spilled out of Agnes' beautiful amber eyes and rolled down her round, rosy cheeks. “What love could be truer than this?” she said with a shaky laugh. “That you'd still want to be friends with someone as beastly as me?”

“Oh, you're not as bad as all that.”

Agnes raised her eyebrows. “Really? Even after all those nasty things I said to scare you on your first night here? Or when I threw a chair at you and screamed when you went exploring in the west wing?”

“Well....” Maybelle didn't know how to deny it without completely lying, so she hastily changed the subject. “I don't regret anything, though. I don't regret coming here. I don't regret deciding to be your friend.”

With a watery chuckle, Agnes rested their foreheads together. “I don't regret it either.”