#then we forgot what plants are altogether

[blorboresidue]

february is the worst possible reward I can think of for having made it through january

[extollingtheeveryday]

I threw your keys in the water, I looked back,

They'd frozen halfway down in the ice.

They froze up so quickly, the keys and their owners,

Even after the anger, it all turned silent, and

The everyday turned solitary,

So we came to February.

First we forgot where we’d planted those bulbs last year,

Then we forgot that we’d planted at all,

Then we forgot what plants are altogether,

and I blamed you for my freezing and forgetting and

The nights were long and cold and scary,

Can we live through February?

You know I think Christmas was a long red glare,

Shot up like a warning, we gave presents without cards,

And then the snow,

And then the snow came, we were always out shoveling,

And we’d drop to sleep exhausted,

Then we’d wake up, and it’s snowing.

And February was so long that it lasted into March


And found us walking a path alone together.

You stopped and pointed and you said, "That's a crocus,"

And I said, "What's a crocus?" and you said, "It’s a flower,"

I tried to remember, but I said, "What's a flower?"

You said, "I still love you."

The leaves were turning as we drove to the hardware store,

My new lover made me keys to the house,

And when we got home, well we just started chopping wood,

Because you never know how next year will be,

And we’ll gather all our arms can carry,

I have lost to February.

[luveline]

dear jade, (I am so sorry this is so long)

congratulations of your milestone!! you're such a lovely person and writer and you deserve every drop of happiness in the world. i wanted to participate by asking for your advice about one of my friends.

i've known him since middle school but we were never really good friends then, he was sort of mean but i was really annoying. once we left middle school, my best friend, another of my friends and him became closer. it was nice. there was a point where i could call him my best friend because we talked every day about everything. this dwindled until he only ever talked to me about girls he liked. whenever i tried to bring up anything else, he'd get noticeably dry. he would only sound interested if it was about his crushes. i've known him for years and i told him my birthday a year ago because he didn't know before and this year he forgot. it hurt but it's fine, most of my friends did. then, we all had a sleepover where we just had to ask one truth question about the other and when it came to me, he said he had nothing and he wasn't really interested to learning anything more. it was so embarrassing. he did it in front of my other friends after asking them something. then, in a conversation (about his crush), he told me he's only ever "dry" with me. which just made me so mad and it really made me think he's just choosing to never put in any effort in his friendship with me. i blocked him and when we tried to talk about it, he left me on read not even halfway through the conversation. i think i got to explain a little and he got to say he didn't mean to.

at first i was sad about losing a friend that had meant to much to me, but i think it's so unfair to be giving so much and receiving nothing. but maybe that's how male relationships are? i feel bad because since we're a group, it's causing tension because i don't talk to him. every time i see him it reminds me of that and affirms this huge insecurity i had that i am just not a person who can have close relationships. but i don't want it to affect my other friends, who have good relationships with him. i'm thinking of leaving the group altogether, but is that too dramatic? am i making a big deal out of nothing?

I hope it doesn't reaffirm completely that you can't have close relationships! I have experienced something close but not identical to this and I understand how heavy and strange the situation is, you're not sure what to do or how to respond, but I can promise you that you're capable of close relationships if you want to have them, please don't let the way one or a group of people have treated you make you think differently about yourself!

Just a disclaimer that I do not know your life like you do and that my advice may not be perfect or even something you want to take and I wouldn't be offended if you didn't, but I'll tell you (knowing what I know now) what I would do in your situation: I would definitely part ways with the person who's making you feel small, and anyone else who's willing to stand by and watch

Sometimes it's good to just be civil with people or to try and ignore one person in favour of staying friends with a group, but (again from my experiences) I would say that the emotional turmoil or the feelings that will continue to grow and hurt you will continue to do so if you're friends with somebody who doesn't treat you like a friend should. I understand if he were being dry in that not everyone has to like everyone, and sometimes people want to move on, but if he is in your group of friends and he's saying things to embarrass you in front of them, he's not extending civility or being polite to you, he just sounds like he doesn't care very much about how he's making you feel. That isn't fair, and I'm so sorry! I don't think you have to feel bad for not talking to him because you have your reasons, and any tension is collateral for his actions rather than your own, you know? It's like he's watered a plant and the group are feeling tense because that plant grew. He's kind of made his bed!

Again I'm talking very black and white, i promise I understand that no situation is easy as it sounds and that leaving a group of friends would be a big thing that might turn into more problems for you and i don't want that, but if you were my younger sister telling me this story, I would honestly tell you that I feel like it's in your best interest to try to move on and away from him, because I don't think the way he's treated you above is acceptable.

You deserve to feel cared about in your friendships. I might understand if he explained to you his actions or what have you but I think he's made his intentions of treating you badly on purpose simply because he feels like it clear, and it isn't what you need. This might sound so cliche but there are people waiting to meet you who will love you to pieces, but you can't meet them if you're feeling this way about not being able to form close relationships. It's harder for some people to do these things and I think you're brave for blocking him and affirming a boundary that you won't be treated that way!

Anyways I'm very sorry if none of this is helpful to you, I think i got quite mad for you!! I just hate that this has probed your insecurity and made it worse, it's not fair to you at all lovely, it really isn't fair that it's made you feel poorly about yourself, please don't let how someone else has treated you affect how you think about yourself! You're a unique person with a thousand things about you to love as a friend!!

[xenonsreturn]

February - Dar Williams

First we forgot where we'd planted those bulbs last year,

Then we forgot that we'd planted at all,

Then we forgot what plants are altogether,

and I blamed you for my freezing and forgetting

And February was so long that it lasted into March

And found us walking a path alone together.

You stopped and pointed and you said, "That's a crocus, "

And I said, "What's a crocus?" and you said, "It's a flower, "

I tried to remember, but I said, "What's a flower?"

You said, "I still love you."

[skyfireflight-writes]

Letters from the Forest

III

Dear Anna,

Thankfully, there were no other dark forms in the trees last night. We trekked quite a bit further into this forest. We started not long after the sun rose, and didn’t even stop while we ate lunch. Adiel nearly forgot about eating altogether, so engrossed he was with sketching nearly every new thing he saw.

I’ll tell you about one other interesting plant we discovered today, so I won’t bore you with long-winded details. It was very similar to the flower we saw yesterday, the one I wrote about in my previous letter. Only this one’s petals had a waxy sheen to them, and they turned upwards toward the sky, instead of downward. Its anthers were the same colors, length, and width, as well. At least, that is what we first assumed they were. However, as we were observing and sketching it, one of the anthers grew taller, and its end opened up and swallowed a buzzing insect from the air, before shortening again.

It appears we have found a carnivorous plant.

I am glad that it was different enough for us to identify it as we continue our expedition, and I am especially glad that these plants diminish the amount of stinging insects we may have to deal with. We both now worry about the possibility of carnivorous plants that eat larger prey. We shall just have to be cautious and vigilant about such things.

…I did say that there were no more dark forms last night. That’s not the case tonight. Adiel and I saw three of the same dark shapes among the trees. Thankfully, they did not approach, nor did they stay long. Still, I worry. Hopefully they are just a trick of the light and shadow; we stopped for camp later in the twilight than usual, and the moon is full tonight.

I am tired, so I shall stop here for now.

Signed -----

[First] [Prev] [Next]

[malrie]

sdfjsdkf i've pretty much done so extensively here and marginally here and in fear of yapping more than i already do let me just explain my jason villain theory and only that..ish.. i don't have all the receipts/quotations from the book bc i'm lazy but anyone can factcheck me lol. but. the GIST of it is that you can easily read jason as percy's foil simply because that's how we're introduced to him - as a literal equivalent of percy jackson. but rather than an equivalent it always felt like he fell more into being his antithesis instead.

you've covered it in your original post plenty, that jason is what you'd call an industry plant (lol). he's given the tools, he's set up in ways that plenty of demigods (especially in the big 3) are usually not, what w the patron goddesses lupa + hera and being looked to for leading since he was extremely young bc of his dad, etc. essentially, yeah. he can't fail. and he doesn't really. he does everything right. child soldier employee of the year award yayyy. so it bears weight that percy, who was quite literally set up to fail from the start because of his circumstances, worked (arguably) twice as hard as jason did over the course of his books to receive just as many accolades as jason did on his own time at camp jupiter.

plenty of times in the books, people's perception of jason/their anecdotes never really matches up when you read his perspective or any of the other seven. it isn't natural charisma to be charismatic only when called for, which he is. and in moa when he and percy meet, it always feels like he's taking percy's lead when they do the goofy machismo thing. he's fine with mirroring himself to people's expectations bc that was what he was raised for.

now all of this combined canonically builds to nothing. but seeing it altogether really feels like the perfect kind of build for a resentment that we never see in him. and the first thing that locked me into this as an actual theory is the entire hercules-piper-jason interaction with the cornucopia in moa. i just reread that and was struck with how strangely riordan worded certain things, specifically:

Hercules was a bitter, selfish jerk. He'd hurt too many people, and he wanted to keep on hurting them. Maybe he'd had some bad breaks. Maybe the gods had kicked him around. But that didn't excuse it. A hero couldn't control the gods, but he should be able to control himself. Jason would never be like that. He would never blame others for his problems or make a grudge more important than doing the right thing.

this chapter was interesting because someone (guy with horn forgot his name sawry) directly told piper to be wary of sons of zeus/jupiter. it ended up that this warning really was nothing at all for her and jason's arc, because in the end he was the one to die saving her. but read the two paragraphs again!! why is the structure so odd and foreboding!! riordan picks up plot points and drops them in hoo at his leisure all the time, but the direct jump from the last line of that paragraph chiding hercules's anger against the world versus jason's ability of self-control felt SO jarring to me on my reread since it felt too emphasized. and i realize it's because his arc is built around the idea that he is the embodiment of control, so the thought of its natural opposite - chaos - isn't far behind.

if jason "lost control" (whatever that entailed) that would be a true completion of his coming of age arc. and i think it was such a lost opportunity that we never received it - in either him defecting from either camps in some way or an actual refusal of the call trope (also notably something percy has been known to have done once or twice, but never jason). and lastly, it would be a direct rejection of what his life was originally given up for - the gods and fate and the society that raised him to be like this. he would finally be able to choose something for himself in a way that mattered to him. jason probably being a terrifying evil villain for our protags to face is just icing on the cake.

anyway have any of you ever thought about how Jason was raised by wolves and then an army and told he had to be the best so he became the best, made himself the best using his experiences and power, who has to prove himself time and time again to the people who made him, and then he meets Percy Jackson who, with almost none of Jason’s training, without having been raised and molded into a leader, is better than him

Percy Jackson, who had a childhood, who had a mom, who seems all the better for it. Jason can finish his quests and missions and get a pat on the back and congratulations for bringing honor to the Legion and nothing else because that’s what’s expected of him, while Percy gets hugs and cookies and tears of relief and so much love because people had been hoping he’d succeed, not because it meant victory, but because it meant he'd live.

all of the things Jason’s gone through to make him that perfect leader and soldier feel like they were all for nothing because he looks at Percy Jackson and sees that perfect leader and soldier and none of the things that made Jason good are what made him great

[c-estmabiologie]

we’ve got a good thing going (Critical Role fic)

Also on ao3!

I’m giving Imogen and Laudna a short and simple cottagegore “after everything” moment in Heartmoor Hamlet because sometimes we should gift ourselves kindness.  -- 

The cottage wasn’t much. It was snugged up against a tree as if it needed shelter, or maybe help staying upright. The roof was soft with moss and the windows were blurred with dust and cobwebs. 

According to Laudna, the previous owner had been a hermit. He’d died in there and no one had known until after his body had mostly rotted away. 

“I heard that if you die in a bog, it sort of… preserves you,” Laudna’s hands waved around as she explained, fingers splayed.

“Yeah, but then you’d have to die in a bog, which doesn’t sound...ideal,” Imogen replied. Laudna gave up a shrug and a noncommittal sound.

The path up to the front door was overgrown with ferns and grasses and other, unrecognizable plants that might not be safe to touch. In a few spots Imogen misstepped and her foot sank ankle-deep into waterlogged earth. They would both need better boots.

Laudna had skipped ahead, limbs loose and skirt smeared with pollen, to get to the door first and pull it wide open. Her excitement was so filling and Imogen couldn’t help opening herself up to it completely. She crossed the threshold brimming with Laudna’s joy. 

In the grey light Imogen could pick out the details of the life that the last person had clearly been in the middle of living. A cup was left out on a table. An almanac was open on an armchair, its pages foxed and mildewed and unreadable. A hand-carved walking stick leaned against the wall next to the door. Dust shimmered in the air and everything smelled of wet rocks and something vaguely meaty. Imogen took a moment to really breathe it in (and wondered distantly if the air was safe). She saw herself as she would be the next day, looking out the window into the back garden with her hands wrapped around a mug of tea, and the day after that clearing out the cupboards with Laudna to make room for what little that was theirs, and the infinite days after days after days that would follow. 

The moment was broken when a soft rat body swung into her peripheral vision. 

“It’s a roight proper home, innit?” Pâté’s tethered arms flung open wide.

“It sure is,” she told him. Imogen slipped her arm around Laudna’s waist and she pulled her in close. 

“And we’ll make it even better.”

The cottage wasn’t much at all. It was only everything.

--

The dust wiped away easily enough and the mould scrubbed away with a bit more effort. They cleared away cobwebs, but, at Laudna’s request, relocated the spiders to safer corners. 

The floor just outside their bedchamber held onto a weird stain where the wood was just a bit softer. They both skirted around it at first out of some sort of respect, but over time they realized that the centre held when they stepped on it, and eventually they just forgot altogether that it was there.

It wasn’t hard to add homey touches: by trial and error they figured out which flowers were safe to pick and set in a glass of water upon the windowsill. Laudna made sketches of her favourite arrangements in her journal and kept careful notes of which caused rashes or released puffs of noxious pollen or worse. When they did venture into town Imogen sought out books that could teach her how to make salves and balms from what grew around their home.

They also always visited the antiques shop, Knot Forgotten. Laudna would chat affectionately with the taxidermy and pick over moth-eaten dolls’ clothes for Pâté and Sashimi. Imogen’s hands would hesitate over lovely, useless things like tiny spoons and jars of buttons. She’d picture them cluttering shelves and countertops with a comfortably heavy sort of happiness.

It was during one of these visits that Imogen found the teapot shaped like a chicken, indignantly tucked away behind cloudy glassware. Its beak was chipped but it was otherwise uncracked. She cradled it thoughtfully in her hands as she wandered along her usual paths around the shop. Everything else on display was more of the same that they always saw when they came through.

“Did you find something?” Laudna asked when they found each other again in an aisle full of empty ink bottles and faded hair ribbons. 

Imogen considered the teapot again.

“I used to have one just like it. Before.” It was a little rounder, to be fair, with brown painted feathers instead of white, but it felt the same to Imogen in a way that she couldn’t explain. 

But Laudna just nodded. 

“Well, I love it, Imogen,” she said. “We have to get it.”

And so they did. 

Laudna named it Ceviche. Its chipped beak made a mess of pouring tea every time; their new morning rituals left them with stained shirtsleeves from wiping tea rings off the tabletop.

--

Imogen’s second favourite thing to do in this new life with Laudna was to let time pass slowly. She loved the crawl of shadows making their way across the floor every day; she loved to discover new dust settling onto surfaces. The best moments, of course, were the ones spent just existing in time, observing life together. Last week it had been an egg sac that Laudna had found clinging to the bedroom window. They’d just waited and checked on it until the morning they could sit and hold hands and watch bog spiders emerge from the silk. 

This week it was the sundews in the back garden with tendrils as thick as her arm. They’d seen the plants naked and glistening with sticky drops of nectar and had just as often seen them crowded with flies and beetles, some struggling, some still. The sundews didn’t differentiate between food that was living or dead; they just consumed. It was fascinating to both of them. 

"Do you think they could get big enough to come through the window and eat us while we’re sleeping?” Laudna said.

“Uh-huh, absolutely I think they could.”

They sat and each imagined that for a long moment punctuated by the odd insect leg or wing that dropped free from a plant’s grip. 

“Well,” Laudna chuckled, “I’m not afraid if you’re not afraid.”

Imogen turned those words over in her mind like stones. There weren’t any hidden grubs, no fungus underneath. The simple fact was that she could not remember the last time she had felt afraid. That familiar feeling in her gut was gone and she hadn’t felt it leave. It hadn’t even left behind an empty socket where it had been rooted for so long. It was an unmooring realization.

She wove her fingers between Laudna’s and felt them slowly take on the warmth from her skin. It was grounding, retethering. 

“No,” she said, “I’m not afraid.” And it was the truth.

[v-hope]

Wineless

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff, established relationship

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: What do you do when you’re out of whiskey and there’s a fancy bottle of wine lying around, which belongs to your girlfriend who just so happens to be out of town? You drink it. And then replace it before she gets back. Or well, at least you intend to, for there’s no way of replacing it when she arrives one night earlier and catches you red-handed.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol (kind of obvious but still)

A/N: Hellooo, I had this request in my ask box for a longgggg time and I had wanted to write it ever since yet never found the right timing, until last night at 2am lol. I hope you guys enjoy!

Whiskey. Whiskey. Whiskey. Whiskey.

Yoongi hummed inside his mind, tapping on the counter a couple of times as his eyes searched for the bottle of strong alcohol he could’ve sworn he had left on that very shelf three weeks ago. Or maybe it had only been half of it, now that he thought about it, for he had drunk some of the expensive liquor that same week you got it for him, when he had been struggling with one particular verse he could just not feel contented with.

Although there was also that one other time last week when he came home not feeling his best after a bad day...

He pouted, defeated eyes still searching around as realisation hit him that there was no bottle of whiskey on sight and there would apparently be no whiskey at all for him that night.

Bummer.

You wouldn’t be home until the next day and he would have a long, lonely night. Hoseok had called him a few minutes ago informing him the bridge of the song he had taken upon writing and needed to turn in by the end of the week was now needed by midnight tomorrow. So, there were only two ways to get the inspiration he so badly needed:

You.

Whiskey.

And right then, he had none of them.

Or well, maybe not precisely, but he could always use some variety, right? So he thought when his eyes fell on the fancy bottle of wine your mum had gifted you when you got the promotion you had so determinedly worked for — the one that had now taken you on a one week business trip to Tokyo, and far away from him and your shared place.

He thought about it for a while —that being three seconds—, before his hand was grabbing it and his feet moved over to where you kept the glasses, grabbing one of them as well before he made his way over to his home studio so he could get started on the new track right away.

Now, he knew how bad it looked, even more when he knew you had been saving it for a special occasion — what special occasion exactly, he had no idea, and he was pretty sure neither did you. But, in his defense, you would be back home tomorrow evening, and that gave him a good couple of hours to drive around the city looking for the same brand —and year— of wine he had stolen from you. Come on, he wasn’t leaving you wineless, of course. He wasn’t a douche. He was just drinking it without your permission… and then replacing it so you would never notice.

Yeah, that was it. That was perfect.

Only he didn’t count on one little detail, and that was you making it home one day earlier. Not wanting to have him worry and make some time out of his busy schedule to go pick you up at the airport like you knew he would, you had decided not to tell him — never having guessed such decision would end up backfiring on both of you. On Yoongi, for he would have no way to replace the bottle before you found out, and on you, for you were now left without that fine wine you had been looking forward to drinking at some point.

“Working so late?” your sweet voice had his head snapping in your direction in a heartbeat.

And maybe if you weren’t so caught up on the way his eyes lit up at the sight of you, you would’ve noticed that part of them held some kind of panic in them — turning around on his chair and rolling it ever so slightly to his right so his body would block the empty bottle from your visual range.

“B-Babe…” he stuttered, partially because of the surprise your unannounced arrival had caused him, partially because of the alcohol having already started to hit. “You didn’t, um… I didn’t know…”

“I know,” you cut him off, knowing well enough what he meant. “Sorry I didn’t let you know, but I was getting here late, as you can see, and I didn’t want you to worry about having to go get me and all that…”

Just like that, he forgot about the wine of yours he was trying to hide altogether, smiling softly and stretching his arms out for you to hold his hands — that being exactly what you did not even two seconds later, having now fully entered his studio and letting his warm hands pull you close to him.

Not really giving you a choice —and not like you would’ve chosen any different—, he pulled you onto his lap, allowing you to sit comfortably on his legs before his hands left yours so they could rest on your back instead, smiling when you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck and leaning in just enough to give your lips a lingering kiss.

“I missed you” he mumbled against your lips, earning a giggle from you and another small kiss to be pressed on his mouth. “Felt so lonely without you…”

“Have you been drinking?” you teased him, both because of his sweet words and because of the way his lips held a rather familiar bitter taste to them.

Of course you would notice right away.

He chuckled, because it was either laughing it off or panicking right before the inevitable happened. And that’s exactly when your eyes fell on the already emptied bottle resting next to a glass on his desk. The one bottle of yours you had been saving and that was now long gone.

It was fair to say, your previous smile was quickly erased from your face — an upset frown taking over your factions instead.

“Tell me that isn’t the one my mum gave me last month”.

And, you see, laughing in these kind of serious situations is never the best thing to do, especially when you know your significant other is upset. But, in both his state and how nervous he was at the idea of you being mad at him, it was all he could do.

“You’re laughing?” you scoffed. “You’re seriously laughing right now?”

He shook his head no, resting his forehead on your shoulder as another chuckle escaped his mouth instead of giving you a proper answer.

“Yoong—”

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” he slurred.

Although inevitably feeling your heart flutter, you rolled your eyes. “You are not trying to get out of this situation with that lame ass line”.

“But you truly are so, so beautiful, baby” he nuzzled that one soft spot in your neck, causing goosebumps to form on your skin.

“Yah, Yoongi. I’m serious” you called him out, placing your hands firmly on his shoulders and gently pushing him away so you could stand up.

“No, no” he stopped you by wrapping his arms tighter around your waist. “I’ll replace it”.

“That’s not the p—”

“I’ll buy you all the wine in the world if you want” he promised. “I was going to replace it to begin with. You were supposed to get here tomorrow”.

“So now it’s my fault for getting here earlier?”

“I mean,” he shrugged. “If you had let me know beforehand...”

Another scoff came out of your mouth, this time crossing your arms over your chest. “Unbelievable”.

“Please don’t…” a tired sigh escaped his mouth. “Please don’t be mad…”

You stayed silent, eyes fixed on the still half full glass next to the empty bottle as you could not help but sulk over the spilled milk, or well, the already drunk wine.

“You just—”

“Please,” he cut you off once more, this time speaking in that cute pouty tone of his you could never help but melt at. “I love you…” his words came out muffled as he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. “Don’t be mad... I’m sorry”.

This time, a sigh escaped your mouth. What else could you do anyway? The wine was already gone and you were left with a soft, drunken boyfriend who was really trying to make the situation better. Or well, at least trying as hard as his current state allowed him to.

“You better get me the exact same one, Min Yoongi” your threatening words didn’t match the way your face was now resting on his head, as he had buried his face in the crook of your neck by then.

“Mhm…” he breathed, eyes closed as he somehow managed to pull you even closer.

“I mean it, Yoongi” you stood your ground. “Tomorrow”.

He chuckled, planting one more kiss to the spot his mouth had been resting on before he went back up to your eye level. “Tomorrow” his lips parted into a gummy smile. “Don’t keep saving it for too long though…” he lovingly pinched your sides. “Might have to drink it on my own again”.

“Yah!” you pulled slightly away, squinting your eyes in a threatening way the he couldn’t help but find the cutest. “My wine. I will see when it’s the right time to drink it”.

“Our wedding night”.

You froze. “Huh?”

“Our wedding night, tops” he stated, and you were not sure if that was the alcohol speaking or he had really been thinking about marriage with you for a while now. “If you haven’t drunk it by then... we’re having it that night”.

A light, breathy laugh escaped your mouth. “Will we even be home that night?” you questioned, his eyes staring into the wall behind you letting you know he had not taken that into consideration. “Besides, in that case I would only get to drink half a bottle, whereas you’d technically had downed one and a half”.

“Pft,” his shoulders went slightly up. “Okay then, alcohol measuring police”.

Throwing your head back as you now let a throaty laugh out, you went back to him, running your fingers through the short strands of hair falling over his forehead and pushing them back, earning a smile and then a muffled giggle from him when you caught his bottom lip in between your longing ones.

“I will get you two bottles then” he quietly proposed when you pulled away. “One for you to share with me and one for you to get drunk on your own whenever you want”.

“Okay, okay” you giggled, not really minding the whole wine incident anymore as he pressed his lips tenderly on your cheek. “Isn’t there something you’re forgetting, though?”

His eyebrows furrowed, deep in thought at your question — eyes travelling to his left and wasting no time in grabbing the glass that still contained a good amount of wine in it. “You can have what’s left”.

You rolled your eyes. The proposal, he was forgetting the proposal. And you couldn’t help but find amusement in the fact that he had been so quick to talk about your wedding night when there had never been a proposal to begin with. Bold of you to believe you would get your drunken boyfriend to talk about it, though.

Nevertheless, all that aside, you did not hesitate for even a second before you took the glass from his hand.

“Oh,” he blurted out when you were taking a small sip, a smile once again parting his lips as he suddenly seemed to remember something important. “And you just wait for the ring”.

[rustbeltjessie]

I won't forget when Peter Pan came to my house, took my hand I said I was a boy I'm glad he didn't check I learned to fly, I learned to fight I lived a whole life in one night We saved each other's lives out on the pirate's deck And I remember that night When I'm leaving a late night with some friends And I hear somebody tell me it's not safe, someone should help me I need to find a nice man to walk me home When I was a boy, I scared the pants off of my mom Climbed what I could climb upon

And I don't know how I survived I guess I knew the tricks that all boys knew And you can walk me home, but I was a boy, too

First we forgot where we'd planted those bulbs last year, Then we forgot that we'd planted at all, Then we forgot what plants are altogether, and I blamed you for my freezing and forgetting and The nights were long and cold and scary, Can we live through February?

[blorboresidue]

god I love the way dar williams just *clenches fist* makes nature into metaphors for human relationships

[emikadreams]

You are dead to me

A/N: Um.. yah so this is a fic where Feyre confronts Nesta, I really needed Feyre to confront her properly so this is self indulgent in a way and I will not be writing a part 2 for the anniversary fic cuz I lost all motivation for that 💕😅

main masterlist

Feyre was seething in fury.

She had half a mind to mist Nesta and knock her off her high horse. 

She wanted to rip her sister’s throat out for having the audacity to accuse Rhys of not caring enough for Feyre before doing the unthinkable and throwing Tamlin’s name in his face.

“Darling, you know that’s not true so let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Rhys replied cautiously with his hands raised in surrender, his eyes softening. She couldn’t believe that he was the calm one in this scenario, if the roles were reserved-if Nesta had uttered some bullshit about Feyre Rhys would forget negotiation altogether, retorting to action before consulting her.

Feyre scoffed, “I don’t care! She had the gall to accuse you about-” her voice wavered in pain, thinking of how it must’ve affected Rhys before continuing, I’m not going to let her think she is untouchable-even if Cassian is going to hate me for it I’m going to end her ridiculous notion of superiority.” Her hands curled in a desire to punch her sister. Feyre was done- absolutely done with defending someone who deserved none of her mercy. 

Rhys swallowed- probably worried. Feyre smirked with barely contained anger.

He should be. 

                                                          ~

“Nesta Archeron.” 

Feyre stormed into the house of wind, the floor shaking with her rage. Cassian breezed into the room with a concerned look, “Feyre- what happened?” He started to walk towards her but she stopped him with a look, “Are you Nesta Archeron?” she asked, her voice dripping with venom. Cassian had the decency to not ask why she had stormed into the room, “No- but I would like to know why you’re asking for her.”

 He looked at her with worry but his body settled into a defensive stance before walking towards her, Feyre’s hand twitched and she bit out,

 “I really don’t need to explain myself to you Cassian, I want to speak to my sister,” his eyebrow raised knowing that the reason was clearly not friendly but she ploughed on, undeterred, “ I’m going to see her whether you like it or not.” She moved to sidestep him saying, “move,” but he blocked her, “Feyre, you look really angry-” she cut him off, “ I said move Cassian.” 

He crossed his arms across his chest, unrelenting.

Feyre slapped him faster than the general to register, using his momentary surprise she kicked him in the groin and gracefully walked away as he doubled over in pain.Feyre looked back at him and said, her voice softer, “ I’m sorry but I really need to see her.”

 Cassian nodded, his eyes closed in pain he said weakly, “I’ll get you for that.” Feyre smirked, a bit of the anger leaving her, “I look forward to it general.” with one last look over her shoulder she walked to the library, knowing exactly where her sorry excuse for a sister will be holed up.

                                                               ~

On seeing her sister look completely unworried in the library, all the anger that was leeched out of Feyre came back in startling force, she straightened her spine and drew herself up to her full height, she stood in front of her older sister and cleared her throat.

Nesta looked up, blinking in surprise and smiled making Feyre see red. 

Nesta was going to die tonight 

Nesta continued, ignoring her sister’s tense stance, “ Feyre, I was coming to see you actually-” she cut her off, her voice dangerously low, “How could you Nesta! How dare you,” Feyre snarled, baring her teeth. 

Nesta looked confused and stood, her book forgotten, “I- what?” she stammered, Feyre laughed darkly, “Of course you wouldn’t know. How could I forget you are the very definition of a hypocrite.” 

Nesta straightened and retorted calmly, “ You talked to Rhysand.”

 Feyre looked at her as if she was a mere inconvenience, “Of course I did, did you think this would get past me?” She held her sister’s glare, “Well, I’m not going to apologise, I meant every word.” Feyre didn’t miss a beat, “You think I came here to ask for an apology, you may not have any dignity left but then again, I’m not you.” 

Nesta’s jaw dropped, but Feyre was far from finished, “I actually thought that you had changed, but there’s no ripping away the deep-rooted poison in you is there?” Nest tried to cut her off but she ignored her, “ I tried confronting you the civil way, but that didn’t work, I left you alone thinking you needed space but then you threw that in my face and I thought- I genuinely thought,” Feyre laughed in disbelief, “ that after saving not only my life-but also Rhys’s and Nyx’s that you had changed but I was wrong again.” 

Nesta shook her head, her eyes flashing with her power, “Feyre what are you saying I love-” She lifted a hand cutting her off, “ You will let me finish, I don’t care about whatever half-assed apology you have planned, “ she looked at her sister, and saw fear reflecting in Nesta’s eyes, only then did she realise that her grip on her powers had lessened. 

Fire was now licking at her fingers and darkness swirled around them but Feyre didn’t care, let her sister realise that she was a wolf who can tear her apart with half a thought.

“You have done nothing for me, you refused to help when we were stuck in that godforsaken cottage and instead opted to leech off of me till I was taken by Tamlin, need I remind you that he looked at you.” she pointed a finger at Nesta accusingly. “ You could’ve gone instead of me but of course, that would deter your plans of being the Queen of a no man’s land right?” 

Nesta only stared at her with her face impassive but she could see the shame in Nesta’s eyes, “ You did help me, yes, only to further the insecurity that you planted in me and when I was killed and drowning in despair I had no one but Rhys.” Feyre’s heart squeezed in pain at the thought of her mate, her breathing became shallow yet she continued,“ He was the only one there for me when I was wasting away, he saved me.” 

Tears were now flowing freely down her cheek but Feyre refused to wipe them away, “He is not perfect, he has made many mistakes, believe me, I know and I haven’t forgotten or forgiven them but I would not be here without him.” her gaze softened briefly as she said, “ You have gone through hell Nesta I know that,” 

Nesta straightened and bit out, “You have no clue what I have gone through while you were busy galavanting with high lords.” Feyre knew this was coming so she drew in a breath before saying, “ Fine. If that’s what you think, be it, but can you disagree with the fact that you weren’t there to help me when I was in a hell hole.” 

Nesta looked down at her feet, feyre smirked, satisfied, “ Of course you can’t and you what I don’t even blame you! When you were suffocating from the pressure of life, I reached out but you refused.” 

Feyre barked a laugh, “ Me being me, I respected your wishes out of love but you  crossed the line when you opted to drink and fuck your life away. So look at where we are now, a year after I forcefully sent you to the Illyrian mountains,” Feyre gestured to Nesta and she looked up with tears in her eyes, Feyre’s anger took a back row on seeing them but she needed to get things off her chest,

 “ You can hold your own in a fight, can use powers and even made friends with people that you call your sisters, remember when you had scoffed at me for saying I forgot you and Elain when I said that I made a different family, one that treated me with  love and respect that my own flesh and blood refused to give me.” 

Nesta opened her mouth to speak but closed it instantly,

 “ Then to add fuel to fire, you insulted the very man who helped me become myself, do you know what he said when he let it slip what you said, “It doesn’t matter darling, I’m sure she didn’t mean it” 

Nesta looked surprised and ashamed, “ Exactly. So all I have to say now is, Fuck you. Don’t you dare disrespect Rhys or my family ever again because if you do Nesta, I will show you exactly how I treat my abusers, because that’s what you are, my abuser.” 

Feyre was exhausted but she spat the words in Nesta’s face knowing that it would hurt and turned on her heel and all but ran to the door but not before hearing Nesta’s whispered words, “I’m sorry Feyre. I truly am.”

Feyre’s tears returned, her knees buckled from the weight of what she had said but she responded softly, twisting the knife deeper into her sister’s heart, 

“Too little too late Nesta” 

 she walked out as sobs racked her body and slammed into a chest, she looked up to find Rhys gazing into her eyes with concern and pride, he gave her a sad smile and she broke down. His arms encircled her stroking her hair, soon  she was in their room, the high lord held her while she wept with pain, hatred and regret.

Taglist: let me know if you wanna be tagged💕 

@thebonecarver @story-scribbler @surielandiareendgame @kayla-2​ @feysand-loml @ratabrasileira @feysandandnyxsworld @wintersouldier57 @flyingtortillasworldsblog  @stromysea  @rhysandswingspan   @live-the-fangirl-life @pagemasters  @nehemikkele @pagemasters @evolving-dreamer @tanvee1231

*bolded tags don’t work

[pink-flame]

Like You Could Love Me

So...the Angry Flower Squad was making me SO soft over gifs and @mamirugbee wanted porch fluff with kissing and I remembered that @thedeathdeelers and @missjoolee liked my idea of using this post as a Juke prompt and here we are. I wrote this from 12-2am so it’s quite possibly incoherent and I’m not checking for mistakes until tomorrow so take it for what it is, a late night labor of love. Enjoy! 💜

Julie hadn’t slept for almost 48 hours. 

Her school was hosting a Los Feliz High After Dark event for the lower grades who didn’t get to attend prom. It was pitched as being just as exciting as the dance but in practice was known to be little more than a glorified sleepover in the school gym with PTA members for chaperones. Flynn had been determined that that year would be different, and had talked Julie into joining her on the planning committee. 

The good news was that Flynn had a real flair for party planning and decorating when she was actually invested (see the difference between the dance they tried to forget and the way she had helped Julie’s dad throw together an epic garage party in less than 24 hours). So by the time Julie and Flynn and the other volunteers were done the gym was fully immersed in a carnival theme full of cute booths filled with potential activities and cute backgrounds to take pictures in front of. It was definitely an improvement over the year before which had been an under the sea theme which had consisted mostly of a few blue streamers and Mr. Weaver walking around in an inflatable Nemo costume. 

The bad news was that it had taken a lot longer than they had anticipated and they hadn’t fallen into bed the night before the event until close to 2am. Julie hadn’t been able to sleep even after she slipped into bed next to Flynn and heard her best friend start making the small whistling noises that indicated she was out cold. Julie had been kept up with thoughts of what her bandmates were up to without her and if they had lingered a little longer on what Luke in particular was doing right then, well that wasn’t that surprising. 

She loved Alex and Reggie but neither of them had attempted to hold her hand and remarked on their “interesting little relationship” or suddenly developed the ability to touch her and instinctively joined her in reaching out to gently cradle the other’s face. 

No, Luke was different, not that she wanted to say that in front of him unless she was sure he felt the same overwhelming feelings she did Oddly enough she was much more concerned about the possibility that he didn’t than she was about the fact that he was still..well, a ghost. It wasn’t that she was unaware that his ghostly status could lead to heartache for her later on, of course she was. It just didn’t seem so important suddenly. After what had happened with her mom, what had almost happened with the guys only a couple of months ago...anything could happen at any time. Tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed anyway so why deny herself happiness now if she could have it? If she could have it. Because that was still the question. 

Because Luke obviously liked her but did he like her? That sounded so juvenile but to call it anything else...well, that was really scary. Evil ghosts and the looming possibility of their return had nothing on the insecurity that came with not knowing exactly how the boy you lo...liked felt about you. 

So Julie didn’t get much sleep that night, Flynn’s alarm seeming to go off only moments after she finally drifted off. She had dragged through school that day, trying to match Flynn’s excitement for the night’s upcoming festivities though her own enthusiasm had quickly drained out of her altogether along with her energy. In the end it had been as fun a night as it could be with Julie spending most of it in a semi-exhausted haze. She and Flynn had played some of the games they had set up, and danced to the music they both agreed would have been better if it had been either DJ’d by Flynn or performed by Julie’s band, and when Carrie had sneered something about how tacky the theme was even that had been half hearted and without any real bite. 

So it was a pretty good night all things considered and Julie was in a good mood despite her complete exhaustion by the time Flynn’s mom dropped her off early the next morning. Ok, so maybe part of her good mood was actually because of her exhausted state by that point as she found herself feeling giddy and her mind had gone sort of pleasantly fuzzy. That was her excuse for how she found herself half-skipping up the path towards her front door, singing to herself. 

We create...perfect harmony 

“Somebody had a good time.” 

Julie’s head snapped up to take in the figure of the boy who leaned against the pillar of the porch in front of her, a small smile bordering on a smirk tugging at his lips. 

Luke.

What was he doing there? 

Was he waiting for her?

She had to play it cool. 

She had to be normal. 

She had to not give away all the feelings that had been swirling around inside of her for the last couple of months since they first gained the ability to touch each other whenever they wanted and promptly both became too awkward to touch each other at all. 

She had to…

“I missed you,” She blurted. 

One of Julie’s hands flew up to cover her mouth as she took the last few steps up onto the porch, trying and failing to ignore the way Luke’s eyes widened even as that vaguely infuriating smirk grew larger. 

“I didn’t mean that,” She insisted once her hand had dropped back to her side. “I mean...I didn’t not mean it but...I just meant it would have been fun if you could have come. Any of you. All of you. Um...yeah.” 

Luke let her dig herself deeper, waiting until her stream of words had come to a complete stop. When they finally dried up he pushed off of the pillar with one of his signature little bounces, letting his momentum carry him to within a step of where she stood awkwardly on the porch. 

“Did someone spike the punch at this dance?” He asked her, amusement clear in his tone. 

Julie shook her head a little too fiercely, indignant despite the fact that she couldn’t exactly blame him for suspecting that she was drunk. 

She felt a little drunk. 

Not that she knew what it was like to be drunk but she was pretty sure it was similar to this. 

Not the point. 

“It wasn’t a dance it was a school sanctioned slumber party,” She corrected, focusing all of her energy on not slurring her words or otherwise embarrassing herself. “And nobody spiked anything. And actually nobody drinks punch anymore. Just so you know.” 

Luke held up both hands as though he were surrendering but that smirk of his was impossible to deny at this point, a fact that both made Julie incredibly irritated and simultaneously fighting the urge to lean up and kiss it right off his stupid face. 

Ok, that was not helpful. 

“Not a dance, no punch. Got it,” Luke said, his voice just soft enough to keep her annoyance more or less at bay. 

“Why are you out here anyway?” 

Julie hadn’t meant to ask that but it felt like any filter her brain generally had was long gone at this point. 

Luke tilted his head slightly and reached up to scratch at the back of his neck. 

“Oh, you know, just taking in the view.” 

Julie frowned skeptically. 

“Taking in the view?”

“Yeah,” Luke said, gesturing out at the plant filled yard. “Just communing with nature you know? Honestly, I forgot you were even out last night.” 

“Oh.” 

Julie dipped her head a little so she didn’t have to look directly at Luke as disappointment rushed through her. She was pretty sure she was too tired to keep the evidence of that emotion from being completely visible. She was so frustrated with herself for caring at all. He wasn’t her boyfriend after all. Why would be be waiting for her?

“Julie.” 

She reluctantly raised her head to meet Luke’s gaze which was fixed insistently on her. His smirk had fallen away leaving behind a look at once more open and somehow harder to read at the same time. 

“I’m kidding,” He told her as he took a half-step closer to her, so close that she had to tilt her head up further to maintain eye contact. “I was waiting for you.” 

“Oh,” She said again, very aware that she seemed to have lost the ability to say anything else. 

She reached deep down inside and mustered up the strength to pull out one further word. 

“Why?” 

His eyes somehow managed to soften even more and his voice was oddly breathy when he answered. 

“Because I missed you too.” 

And Julie knew that the most prudent thing to do was tuck that phrase away as something warm, and happy and precious to examine more closely when she had slept and had the mental prowess to actually determine what it meant for their interesting little relationship. 

She knew that. 

But she was exhausted not only from lack of sleep but from months spent questioning where they stood. She was happy to hear him say that he had missed her, of course she was. But she also found herself feeling strangely...angry. 

How dare he look at her with those big soft eyes and stare at her like that if he wasn’t ever planning on actually putting her out of her misery by telling her how he felt or didn’t feel?

“I wish you wouldn’t look at me like that,” The words burst out of her without her permission. 

Luke was clearly taken aback by her words, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. 

“Like what?” 

“I don’t know,’ She hesitated, just enough awareness seeping back in to make her realize what a truly stupid thing she was about to say. “Like you could love me.” 

She watched as a whole range of emotions rushed over his face too quickly for her to decipher exactly what all of them were. 

“Julie…” 

“Forget I said anything,” Julie interrupted, turning towards the front door with every intention to flee the situation. “I’m just really tired.” 

“Julie!” 

He said her name more forcefully that time and she froze. She didn’t turn back to face him though, the pounding in her chest and the heat spreading across her face giving her all the incentive she needed to keep her head facing away. 

Luke wasn’t having any of that though. 

He reached out to gently tug her back towards him, one hand settling on her cheek while the other rested on her waist. 

If she hadn’t been blushing before she certainly was now. 

“Do you not want me to look at you like that because...because you don’t feel the same?” 

Luke’s voice shook a little as he gave voice to that question, his thumb seeming to stroke across her cheek without his permission. 

Julie was reeling, everything feeling surreal and dreamlike anyway because of her lack of sleep but when combined with Luke’s gentle actions it felt more and more unreal. She couldn’t help but remember the last time he had touched her face, how they had clutched at each other thinking it was the only chance they would ever have. Now they had new chances every day and they had been wasting them. 

Why had they been wasting them?

“Wait...feel the same as what? Feel the same as who?” She asked as her brain finally caught up with what he had actually said. 

He visibly swallowed and she took some comfort in the fact that apparently he was nervous too. 

“The same as I feel,” He paused. “About you. I...I love you, Julie. And if that makes you uncomfortable I never have to say it again, ok? But it’s how I feel and I just wanted to say it. Once or whatever.” 

“But…” Julie felt a giggle rising up inside of her as exhaustion and the pure absurdity of the moment settled in. “But I love you too.” 

Luke’s thumb froze on her face as his eyes lit up with something close to hope. 

“You do?” 

Julie nodded, the giggle finally bursting out of her only to be met with a grin from Luke so radiant she wished she could capture it in a photo to look at later. 

“You love me,” Luke said again as though he needed to confirm beyond any shadow of doubt. 

“I love you,” Julie repeated agreeably. “And you love me?” 

Luke nodded, bouncing a little on his heels as he somehow managed to step even more into her space. 

“I love you.” 

“Well…” Julie sighed happily. “Well, that’s great then.” 

Luke let out a bark of laughter that probably would have been loud enough to bring her dad to the porch if anyone but her had been able to hear it. 

Before she had time to remark on how obnoxiously loud he could be he was crowding her back until she bumped into the pillar he had been leaning against when she got home. The moment her back made contact with its firm surface he was bringing his other hand up until he was cupping both of her cheeks. She barely had time to adjust to that very much welcome sensation before he was lowering his head and aligning his lips with hers, pressing them together in a chaste peck that was still enough to send her heart racing. He started to pull back as if to gauge her reaction but she was having none of that. She had been waiting for this for so long and as previously established she had absolutely none of her usual ability to deny herself what she wanted. 

And what she wanted was her hands on Luke Patterson right then. 

She reached up and latched one hand on the back of his neck and the other threaded deep into his hair giving it a little tug just because she could. She had been wanting to touch him so badly ever since that night in the garage when she’d almost lost him and she’d been wanting to touch his dumb, messy hair ever since “I’m Luke by the way”. So she did. 

He let out a little pleased sound that was cut off when she stretched up to press her mouth back to his, this time with twice as much force and no intention of separating anytime soon. To his credit he took the hint pretty fast, his hands dropping from her face to wrap around her waist tugging her body to press against his as he moved his lips insistently against hers. And wow...that was something, the sensation of almost all of her pressed up against almost all of him. 

He wasn’t warm, not exactly, but he wasn’t cold either like she had feared he would be. It was more like his body was mirroring back exactly her own temperature, leaving it hard to determine where one of them began and the other ended when her eyes were closed as they currently were. 

Or maybe that was just them. 

Maybe it was like that quote she always saw floating around online about souls being made of the same stuff. 

When she was well rested and thinking rationally she had always rolled her eyes a bit at stuff like that but now...she was beginning to see the appeal. 

Julie massaged absentmindedly at the back of his neck as she drew his lower lip into her mouth, the sound he made in response enough to have her pulling back with a giggle. 

“Come back here,” He mumbled, his lips chasing hers even as she turned her face away leaving him to press soft, wet kisses to her cheek. 

“Now you sound drunk,” She told him, turning back to face him and looping both arms around his shoulders. “My dad will be up soon and I have no idea how I’d explain...this...when he can’t even see you.” 

Luke groaned as he leaned down to rest his forehead against hers. 

“You’re right.” 

“I’m right,” Julie echoed. 

It was true but that didn’t mean she was happy about it. 

They stayed like that for another minute or so, just enjoying being this close to each other with nothing to hide. They might have stayed like that longer but Julie suddenly let out a yawn she couldn’t contain directly into Luke’s face. 

Luke pulled back sharply but the soft smile that seemed to always be reserved just for her remained in place. 

“You need to get some sleep,” He told her firmly. 

She wanted to argue but all that came out was another yawn. 

Ok, so there was no arguing with that. 

“Goodnight,” She told him, suddenly feeling shy as she backed towards the front door wanting to keep him in her sight just a little longer. 

Luke gestured around them to the soft light spilling around her yard. 

“Good morning,” He corrected with a grin. 

Never one to let him have the last word, certainly not when she was too tired to be embarrassed, Julie leapt forward to press one final lingering kiss on his lips, retreating before he could do more than return the pressure.

Julie backed towards the front door, the grin now firmly on her face and a rather dumbstruck one adorning his. 

“Band practice later,” She reminded him. “Don’t be late.” 

Then she slipped into the house and up to her bed, incredibly tired and pretty sure of exactly  what she would be dreaming of. 

[aquaaquila]

Regarding Luz: she's absolutely capable alright and has potential, but she may still be overwhelmed or lack experience at times making her slip up, especially when sge at times doesn't think things through. Hunter easily dodged her fireballs the first time they battled and knocked her to the ground. The fireballs certainly were a heavy strike but Luz wasn't prepared for GG.

I do however find it as obnoxious to claim how somehow she has more experience than Hunter when it comes to magic when she's been around for few months top and still had a long way to go whereas Hunter still had his entire life to practice and learn. "More dedication than him" meanwhile Hunter proceeds to rant about wild magic, mindscapes and what's inside Titan's blood mineshafts and casually revealing his training routine. Hunter doesn't lack dedication, dedication literally kept him living and not just alive.

Glyphs require memorisation, and since Luz didn't want to use petrification glyph she most likely forgot about it altogether and it's not a skill we can apply to her.

Luz is a prodigy I will give her that, but we had very little build-up to how badass Luz could be in YBOS when the other episodes of season 1 Luz isn't legit fighting much and she learned plant glyph and fire glyph only 2-3 episodes ago, but we're still supposed to believe she can wipe floor with everyone? Why yes because she trains and we stan her. And who also trains? Hunter.

Regarding Hunter:

I'm sorry but how is Hunter weaker when we never really got to see him fight outside of his brawl with Amity were neither if them tried to kill one another?

I love Amity, but she was on a defensive while battling Hunter because she didn't want to fight. Hunter didn't want to fight either hence he aimed to get the key, but it could've been done without a bloodshed. I also have to mention that King dud save Amity's back at one point during the fight too.

And please tell me, does Luz brag about all the times she almost died on her adventures? Outside of conformatorium, no. Meanwhile Hunter laughs about how making alive from the top of the mountain is "a classic", like no Luz would be tired and not look back fondly towards it even if she would ace it. So I would ultimately let Hunter take some credit and pride in his training.

I’ve always found the argument about who would beat who to be asinine but I gotta say there was something ridiculous about Hunter fans insisting that he totally should’ve defeated Amity in Eclipse Lake, that the circumstances weren’t fair, yadda-yadda. Yeah no that man would’ve put that girl in her place he totally could’ve killed her Hunter was just holding back!!! Nvm that he was so clearly desperate and not holding back because he was afraid for his life.

Oh no he’s using a Palisman he’s not used to that! Except he’s had Flapjack for two episodes, he’s been using staffs in general since Separate Tides and probably sooner! Amity has only been using a Palisman/staff since this episode!

And then they talk about Hunter being in a bad state of mind or not fed well and at some point it’s just massive copium. Amity is better than Hunter. He had to resort to threatening someone who wasn’t even there. You say he could’ve killed Amity at multiple points but never, um, the other way around huh. Y’all love to hype up his ~military training~ but that only goes so far as we’ve seen with the covenscouts, Hunter’s magic lessons were limited by Belos and Hunter mentions it. But yeah no if they weren’t he’d TOTALLY be better than this girl and PoC!!!

I think there’s something obnoxious about having to argue about how your white boy fave is totally stronger than a bunch of other characters who’ve actually dedicated themselves to magic more than he ever has, and bragging about how he was just holding back and totally could’ve defeated and killed them. Before of course you’re devaluing the accomplishments of female/brown characters to make a white guy look better, what are you Philip? Literally just white boys being praised for the bare minimum over say, Luz who has dedicated herself to learning every track and figured out glyphs and various combos and embodied magic literally at one point. The misogyny and racism is insane.

[katnissmellarkkk]

Chapter Four

“Dang it!” I bellow eight days later, as my body gives way and topples over, having used too great of force to yank a now dead primrose from the ground.

Yesterday morning I had come outside to discover the yellow evening primroses, the flowers Peeta had planted upon his arrival back in Twelve, had all but died.

And I didn’t even notice. I’ve been so distracted with everything else going on in my life—namely Peeta and his blonde companion—that I entirely forgot about the flowers. The flowers that my sister was named for. The flowers meant to represent her when she was no longer alive to represent herself.

The idea that I could forget the plant, that I let myself lag on the simple duty of keeping them alive and watered and healthy, felt as if I had let my little sister down all over again. It felt as if I’d failed Prim a second time.

And it’s more than I can handle. I can’t even endure the thought. The very implication that I am, in any way, dishonoring my sister’s memory is entirely unbearable. Even if it is just me implying it, inside my head.

But in any case, it looks like the primroses are too far gone and I don’t have even a chance at resurrecting them back to life. I took too long to notice their wilting, I was too caught up in other things, that I let the plants die and now there’s no going back.

For a split second I consider returning one of my mother’s many calls to ask for gardening advice. She has always had a green thumb and been able to grow whatever she set her mind to. I never had any of those skills. I was a hunter by nature, not a nurturer.

No, that was Prim. The soft and gentle one, who loved animals, who could heal any wound she could identify, who could garden and grow herbs just as well as our mother.

And I miss her so much. I miss my little sister so very much that I almost breakdown into tears right then and there, right in front of the dead primrose bush outside my house.

“Katniss?” I hear someone call in the distance. I recognize the voice instantly.

And rapidly get up and make a beeline towards my front door.

Unfortunately he’s determined to catch me. After eight solid days of evasion, Peeta is dead set on catching me at any given opportunity before him.

It’s almost funny how once upon a time it was him who wished to avoid me. It was him who craved distance between us, who acted icy and detached at every encounter, whether forced or by chance.

Now it’s him trying to force an encounter between us, trying desperately to make up for hurting me, trying to still be a part of my life, even after I pronounced our relationship finished.

The bread he left on my doorstep—that I immediately tossed in the garbage—is proof of that. The cheesebuns he left on my counter who met their demise to a flock of birds on my back porch is proof of that. The cookies he baked and passed through Greasy Sae when I went to trade at the new, rebuilt Hob is glaring proof of his efforts.

I did actually eat those but I made sure to do it in private, where Peeta would never know if his token was accepted or not.

Because I don’t want him to think we’re okay. I don’t want Peeta to believe me and him can still be friends, with Bailey Robyn, the uptight, controlling blonde still lingering over his every move.

Okay, maybe I’m being a bit overdramatic. Bailey isn’t residing over Peeta’s every action. She probably doesn’t even know he’s made all these treats for me. And she surely wasn’t sitting by his side in the corner of Greasy Sae’s booth when our eyes briefly met before I stubbornly stormed out.

But I feel like she is. I feel her presence overcast in every one of Peeta’s actions, in every deed he partakes in, in every moment I run into him. Maybe it’s only inside my head but it’s enough reason for me to avoid Peeta. It’s enough reason that I wish to stand by my words eight days ago and cut him directly out of my life. With a chainsaw if necessary, I wish to cut the invisible cord that has tied me and him together for so long now.

“Katniss!” Peeta calls again, his arms grasping my waist just in time to prevent my escape into the house.

“Go away,” I mutter under my breath, ire and ache still seeping off me even after a week separating this moment here with our last interaction.

“Why are you upset?” He asks, a little breathless now from the race to my front door. But even tired, concern still manages to leak into his tone. His blue eyes still show anxiety for my well-being.

And it’s still not enough to thaw me.

“You know why,” I say rigidly, pulling my front door open and shoving his hands away from me.

“No, no, I mean,” he quickly tries to correct his question. “I meant, what’s happened out here that has you upset?”

I audibly huff, my eyes about as warm as a popsicle in a snowstorm. The last thing I want to do is stand here and recount just about anything to Peeta, especially in regards to the way I’m currently feeling.

Especially after the last time we spoke about our feelings, when I chose to let him in and allowed him to see the vulnerable parts of me that I never trust anyone with.

Only for him to turn around and side with Bailey over me.

But knowing how persistent Peeta can be when properly determined—his intensity to train like a Career, Brutus’ murder and him warning District Thirteen about Snow’s incoming attack all fly to the top of that list—I merely gesture widely to my backyard, where the dead flowers lie.

It only takes Peeta a moment to click it all together, to his credit. Though I’m hesitant to even offer him that right now.

“I’ll replant them,” he instantly offers, like a dog begging to fetch his owner a carcass bone.

“Don’t bother,” I say, about as rude and uninviting as humanly possible. “It’s not your responsibility.”

I’m just stepping into the house when Peeta’s hand shoves on the door, hard enough to keep it open. For a split second, I contemplate putting all my strength behind it and slamming his fingers in the door. But even as mad as I am—even as wounded as I am—I won’t physically harm Peeta.

After all, he already lost his leg once about I tied it in a tourniquet. I may have saved his life but I also cost him half a limb and that thought alone stops me from nearly taking his fingers off too.

“Katniss, I want to,” he pleads and his eyes are so big and blue and I feel my heart involuntarily melt a bit upon at the sight. “I want to replant them.”

I release an unconscious breath, for the first time in over a week not completely hostile towards the boy with the bread, who in my eyes, completely turned his back on me. Or so it feels. “I’ll just end up killing them again, Peeta. I’m serious. Don’t even bother.”

“Then I’ll tend to them,” Peeta throws out, getting more and more desperate the more I refuse, it seems.

I’m about to brush off his offer once again when another voice joins us. “Oh, let him do it, sweetheart. The boy needs a hobby besides baking,” Haymitch chimes in, standing at the bottom of my porch, looking drunk as ever.

“You love that baking is his only hobby,” I shoot back at the paunchy, old man.

“Well, not anymore. Since you two started fighting he’s been making me fat. I need a break.”

I’m about to come back with another comment, probably one to suggest Haymitch doesn’t have to eat everything Peeta brings, when we’re joined by a third presence.

Of course, she has to join us. Bailey can’t seem to let Peeta go anywhere without her nowadays.

“What’s going on?” She murmurs, looking around at all our tense body language. Well, at mine and Peeta’s tense body language. Haymitch is currently sitting on the bottom step of my porch now, as relaxed as Buttercup is in the window.

Peeta opens his mouth to respond but then shuts it again, glancing back at me. I don’t know if it’s the fact that he doesn’t wish to discuss his offer to help me with his girlfriend or if it’s the fact that he clearly knows I dislike the notion of Bailey in my business, but either way I’m a little pleased when he closes his mouth and adverts eye contact away from the blonde.

Instead it’s my drunken mentor who elaborates. “The girl’s flowers died. Your boyfriend just wants to replant them.”

To my utter astonishment, Bailey seems amendable to the idea. “The flowers for your sister?” She inquires, looking right at me. I shoot her a quizzical—and perhaps slightly unfriendly—look out of the corner of my eye but she continues on anyway. “Peeta, you should help her plant them again. Especially since you let them die-“

But I’ve heard enough from her—and everyone else here, for that matter—and I turn to Peeta, my hand still holding the doorknob tightly, ready to slam it shut. “Fine,” I cave, my tone anything but grateful. “Go ahead and replant the primroses. If that’s going to help you, then go for it.”

I don’t wait to hear a response from any of the parties now camped out on my property. Instead I shove Peeta’s fingers off my door—first time I’ve touched him in eight days—and throw it shut with such a force I feel the walls in my entryway shake.

“She’s always been a spitfire,” I hear Haymitch mumble as three sets of footsteps make their way further from my porch.

I barely catch Peeta’s response. If I hadn’t been standing by the door, unintentionally listening to hear what they may be saying, I would have missed it altogether.

“That’s the best thing about her.”

/

It’s just mere hours later before I’m disturbed once again. This time not by a crew of three but by one solo intruder.

“Sweetheart?” Haymitch barks, evidently not too keen on the fact that I decided to turn every light in my house off after returning home from the Hob.

“Go away,” I mumble out, knowing well and clear that he can’t hear me from upstairs. I’m in my bedroom, lying in the safety of my own bed, in my own private sanctuary, where I do not wish to be disturbed by anyone at any cost.

Of course, it only takes a few minutes of bumping into things and cursing for Haymitch to track me down. “Girl, it’s six at night?” He says incredulously.

“So?” I snap, as he turns my light on, effectively blinding me.

“Did you just forget about dinner tonight?” He asks, his voice neither kind nor hostile. In all honesty, he just sounds puzzled.

“Why are you in my room, Haymitch?” I murmur, rubbing my eyes until they adjust to the beaming brightness and pulling myself upwards now. Off his dismissive glance, I let out a deep sigh. “I wasn’t hungry.”

Of course, we’re not really talking about me skipping a meal. I highly doubt Haymitch truly cares if I miss dinner by my own accord. He surely wasn’t too interested in my meal intake when he brought me home from the Capitol and dropped me off on my doorstep.

No, we’re referring to the weekly dinners me, Peeta and Haymitch have at the old man’s pig sty. The same dinners I’ve brought Delly along to, that Haymitch is constantly passing out drunk during, that Bailey has been crashing nonstop since arriving here in Twelve.

When I came home from trading at the Hob tonight, I decided I was done with those dinners. I don’t need to subject myself to bossy Bailey any longer, and my resolve to keep Peeta out of my life as much as humanly possible is still strong. Despite the fact that I agreed to let him plant the primroses in my garden again and tend to their growth, I still don’t wish for us to be friends. I still don’t want to subject myself any further to him and Bailey’s exhibits.

And I figured no one would mind my absence anyways. At least not for a few dinners. I knew eventually Haymitch would try to push me to come back and Peeta would probably ask me very sweetly to join again, but I didn’t think the first night I skipped would be a huge production.

And okay, maybe there is a small part of me who deep down hopes if I refuse to come, Bailey may be disinvited in order to make me feel welcome again. It’s a long shot and not one I’d consciously admit to counting on, but I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a small, minuscule part of me wishing for that to happen just the same.

Haymitch glances at me suspiciously now. “You’re always hungry, kid.”

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are. You’re the most enthusiastic eater I know.”

Okay, he is blatantly confused apparently. His drunken goggles are blurring his perspective of reality, it would seem.

In any case, I flop backwards on my bed and roll away, hoping if I ignore my mentor long enough he’ll just evaporate into thin air.

But for some reason, Haymitch is weirdly dogged tonight. “Come on,” he urges, shaking my shoulder a bit too roughly. “I know the boy always says you’re just like me, but this little display is over the top, Katniss.”

I roll my eyes. “Why do you even want me at those dinners, Haymitch? You have Peeta and Bailey there.” I can’t stop myself from throwing the extra emphasis on Bailey, as immature as it may be.

However, the old man isn’t interested in dignifying me with a response. “And Delly. And Johanna. And Annie Cresta.”

That catches me completely off-guard. “What?”

In the time since the war ended and I returned to Twelve—or rather, was exiled to Twelve—no one from the other districts have visited. I have barely seen anyone I know in the last few months, outside Haymitch, Peeta and Delly.

“Some of which are anxious to see you at dinner,” he adds, gesturing for me to get up.

I shoot him a mordant glance. “Johanna’s anxious to see me?”

“I said some. Meaning Delly and Annie,” he clarifies. Off my still hesitant expression, he reaches down and tugs on my wrist, trying to get me out of bed.

“Fine!” I exclaim, feeling strangely embarrassed now as I realize that our roles are suddenly being reversed. I’m the one who always forced him out of bed, who made him come to meals, who fought with him to hurry up and get moving.

In the end, I don’t bother cleaning myself up or trying to appear presentable. Johanna and Annie won’t care and Peeta doesn’t get to care anymore.

And it wouldn’t matter anyway. Even if Effie Trinket or my entire prep team were here, I’d never stand a chance of looking anything but plain next to Bailey.

It’s not that I care that she’s so blatantly pretty. It’s just that her looks are one more thing about her presence to be bothered by, and that list is getting long and extensive. Even after her apparent approval of Peeta gardening my primroses, even after no negative interactions in eight days, I still sense hostility with her. And I still can’t stare at her without feeling my stomach churn.

Because every time she’s around, I know I’m about to be the odd one out. For whatever reason, outside of Delly, the people I care for, hold a deep affinity for Bailey Robyn.

And it bothers me above anything I can express. It bothers me beyond words, beyond measure, beyond any sense of feeling.

“Look who I found,” Haymitch announces as we enter through the threshold of his filthy residence.

“Katniss!” Annie exclaims and tosses her arms around my neck, despite the fact that we’ve never been too close. I can’t even remember the last time we had a conversation in person. The only true communication between me and Annie is the letters she sends, the ones filled with details of her life in Four and Finnick’s son. The ones I rarely respond to, but always read just the same.

Still, despite the fact that Annie might as well be a glorified stranger to me, I return the embrace, instinctively at first and then, simply because I want to. Because no one besides Peeta has given me any sort of affection in months and I miss it. Now that Peeta has put conditions on our relationship, I am hungry for any physical touch at all.

It shocks me to realize, in that moment, just how completely starved I am, for closeness.

I hug Annie for far longer than I think anyone watching anticipated but she doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, she seems to welcome it too.

Then again, her husband died and left her with seemingly no family at all to help raise their baby. So perhaps she’s just as desperate for a human touch—I suppose besides her son—as I am.

I don’t receive the same welcome from Johanna, unsurprisingly, but as soon as me and Annie break apart, she shoots me a satirical glance and pulls on a piece of my hair.

“Ow!” I exclaim, my thick brows furrowing in confusion. “What was that for?”

“It was sticking up,” she explains with a shrug and then smirks. “Did you just roll out of bed and come here?”

“Did you?” Her outfit is just denim pants and a low cut t-shirt. Not that different from my attire.

“Yes. And I’m not ashamed of it.” She runs a hand over her hair which has grown out to about length with her shoulders. “But I know how to use a hairbrush, at least.”

I roll my eyes as she nudges me. “This is dinner,” Haymitch deadpans as he makes his way to the table. “Not a Capitol Beauty Contest.”

Jo examines the unwashed table as we follow the grumpy man’s lead. As of right now, the table is completely void of substance. “Doesn’t dinner imply food?” She asks and Annie laughs lightly, suggesting she was thinking along the same lines.

“Haymitch doesn’t believe in cooking himself,” I retort, earning a look from the old man. “He’s waiting for Peeta to arrive with food.”

“You’re more than welcome to provide the meal, sweetheart.”

“And what are you providing?”

“The residence the meal is served at.”

“And what a residence it is!” Exclaims a completely different voice, a higher pitched soprano.

And like clockwork, three blonde heads round the corner of the dining room, abruptly joining the party.

Delly looks as enthusiastic to be walking with Peeta and Bailey as I am to be in their company right now. Which she further evidences by hurrying to the seat at my right.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a grin,” Haymitch remarks as he pulls out a bottle of white liquor and pours it into a half-clean glass.

“Wonder why that is,” I murmur out loud before thinking better of it. After all, Haymitch seems to care for Bailey more than me nowadays. I should probably not stir the pot before the food is even presented before me.

But he doesn’t reply back. Even if he did, I doubt I’d notice anyway.

Because, in the flash of a second, the attention of the room is completely shifted.

I knew Bailey was coming with Peeta. She’s practically glued to his hip at all times of day, almost as if she’s afraid to let him out of her sight. But it would seem that Haymitch did not inform Johanna or Annie about Peeta’s new relationship, effectively catching them both by surprise at the additional dinner guest.

And there’s little room for doubt to anyone with eyes that they’re together. Their hands are practically singed as one, in an airtight grasp, her manicured nails intertwined with his long fingers.

For a split second I wonder if that’s what my hand looked like inside Peeta’s last week. I wonder if this is what Bailey saw before her, when she caught us roaming through town at the crack of dawn.

“Barley?” Johanna says in a shocked voice.

It takes a moment for her comment to compute in my brain. “Bailey,” I correct, trying to be helpful. Though I’m unsure where she even managed to get the name Barley at all. Especially if Haymitch didn’t warn her about the girl Peeta was bringing and I strongly suspect he didn’t.

Jo looks at me like I’m insane for the amendment before turning back to Bailey and Peeta. “You’re dating Bailey Barley?” She say incredulously.

Bailey Barley? Is that a nickname? Now I’m the one who’s completely lost at sea, feeling like there was a good chunk of time I somehow missed.

Bailey’s blue eyes stare into Jo’s now, not exactly friendly but not as belligerent as I’ve seen her before. As I saw her last week.

I don’t know nor do I understand what they’re silently communicating, but I do comprehend one thing without a doubt.

Johanna knows Bailey. Somehow, someway, Johanna knows Bailey even more than I do.

Peeta doesn’t seem too confused though. He doesn’t even seem fazed by the exchange at all. Instead he drops Bailey’s hand—not soon enough, in my opinion—and moves to set some kind of meat and potato meal down on the table.

“Where did you get the meat?” I ask abruptly, recognizing it as deer. I just shot my first in a long time only the other day. How on Earth did Peeta get deer meat around the same time I did.

“I traded a cake for it. At the Hob,” he explains nonchalantly, avoiding my bewildered eyes now.

I just stare at him for a second, debating on even further commenting.

The Hob is where I traded the deer after killing it. Peeta literally baked a cake and traded it for meat, just because I wouldn’t speak to him.

He literally traded a cake so I could eat the meat that I hunted myself.

Something about that scenario vindicates me slightly. And I have to wonder if I’ve become sadistic with time and solitude.

My attention though is pulled back to Johanna and Bailey now. “What’re you doing in Twelve?”

Bailey takes her seat, between Haymitch and Peeta, with grace. “Peeta and I met in the Capitol,” she states simply. “I decided to come here and spend some more time with him. Get to know him a little better.”

As if to punctuate her words, she places one dainty hand on top of Peeta’s and gives it a squeeze.

I can’t even fight my eye roll.

“I see,” Jo murmurs, casting a sideway glance at me, none too subtle. “Well, it looks like you did... that.”

Delly snickers into her water glass and I don’t miss the way Bailey shoots her an irritated glance. Peeta seemingly does though. Haymitch is already too tipsy to care if an actual fight breaks out among us, his white liquor kicking in quick.

Annie on the other hand, who I’ve always believed to often be oblivious to all those around her, decidedly cuts the tension here. “Well, I’m hungry. Peeta, pass me a plate.”

And just like that, we’re having one of the most awkward meals I’ve ever had to endure.

Read More On AO3

[skyfireflight-writes]

Find the Word

Tagged by @new-royston-cursebreakers

My words are eat, water, fun, pop, create, and thank.

From Letters from the Forest:

Eat

We trekked quite a bit further into this forest. We started not long after the sun rose, and didn’t even stop while we ate lunch. Adiel nearly forgot about eating altogether, so engrossed he was with sketching nearly every new thing he saw.

Water

I know you’re curious as to what we’ve found. Adiel and I have recorded various types of plants. The most notable one is a type of medicinal plant that we have used so often at home. What appeared to be that same plant in multiple locations on our journey turned out to be plants that were nearly identical, with only slight variations. The leaves – their shape and their pattern, were the same, yet on one, the leaves were waxy and shiny, while on another, though growing just a few feet away, had a flow of water coming up from the stem and over the leaves, dripping down from each leaf like an array of fountains arranged like a star. It was beautiful! The water, when it dripped from the pointed edge of the leaf, fell like a spherical gemstone, clear and glistening in the sun. You would have loved to see it. It was fascinating!

Thank

We’ve discovered and recorded a few new incredible plant species: one whose leaves rose from its stem to spiral around each other, taller than Adiel and me stacked atop each other. Adiel wanted to stand on my shoulders to see how tall it truly was and whether or not the top was sharp. I had to disagree to that; I am not a strong man, and my clothes are dirty enough without having muddy boot prints on my shoulders, thank you very much. Not to mention that if we had to run from a predator of some sort, having to get him down off my shoulders would just delay our escape.

From Race Planet:

Fun

“Arlan said that the city has tall buildings,” she said, raising her hand up, palm down, to indicate how tall, before dropping it against her thigh, “and that thousands of people live there.”

Nattil furrowed his eyebrows. “Thousands?” None of the known communities reached even a population of one thousand people.

“Yeah. Crazy, right? And how do they build all those tall buildings?” Talin had her knees up again, and was leaning back with her arms wrapped around her knees for support. “We have one. But that would take a lot of wood, to have so many, and to shelter so many people.”

Nattil hummed in agreement. “And how tall do you think those buildings are?” Honestly, Talin herself could not imagine any building being taller than the community’s storehouse; it was five floors high, and wider than it was tall. How wide would a taller building have to be? she wondered. But it was fun to let her imagination go wild.

Pop

The food was served – the usual rationed amounts that Talin knew was not enough to fill Nattil’s stomach. She scooted the full meat container closer to Nattil, and tensed when she opened it, the lid coming undone with a sharp pop!, wondering how her father would react.

It wasn’t the first time Talin had brought something home from Suzayne’s, but, as she scooped some of the meat insistently into Nattil’s bowl despite his protests, this was the first time she had made it so obvious.

“Where did that come from?” her father asked. His voice was not accusatory, just curious.

Create

Her thoughts turn as she gazed at the building, and she imagined forge workers manipulating metal, gathered from the caves to the west and beyond the storehouse, shaping and hammering it with their tools to create other tools and parts, including the motorcycle parts that Nattil liked to work with.

[lpham2525]

Shirou x Reader Coldest Night of the Year (Long Version)

Shirou awakens in the night to feel tremors coming from next to him. Opening one eye, he sees you shivering on the bed. Damn, he forgot that humans did not have a fur coat like he did. Both of you were under two blankets already, but it didn’t seem like enough. Shirou gets up to retrieve another blanket for you, but then he realizes that all of the other blankets were already taken. The coldest night of the year; he wasn’t going to deprive anyone of anything. He decides to make tea instead. When he returns to the room with the steaming teacups, an idea occurs to him.

His half of the blankets wasn’t being used. Shirou didn’t need it. The wolf man sets down the tea and picks up the edge of the blankets. Then, working carefully, he throws it over you, doubling up the folds and tucking in the corners. He waits and watches, but you’re still shivering. Finally, he places a hand on your shoulder and calls out your name.

“Hmmm?” you say groggily. “Shirou?”

“You’re shivering.”

“What? Oh, no. I’m…I’m fine.” You pat his hand to reassure him, but as soon as he feels your fingers, he pulls your hand towards him and clasps it between his palms.

“Don’t lie to me. Your hand feels like a sheet of ice.” Shirou sighs. “You can’t sleep like this. Worse, you might catch cold or pneumonia and then I would be…very displeased.” He gestures towards the teacups. “I made you tea. Drink some.”

You glance over at the nightstand, surprised to see two porcelain cups there. He even poured them into the special teacups, the ones with the Silver Wolf painted on them that you gave him for his birthday. You glance over at Shirou. He really was a considerate creature, despite his tough exterior. Gratefully, you reach for the tea, but your hands are shaking so badly that the teacups are rattling against their saucers. In an instant, you see Shirou kneeling beside you. He picks up a teacup and instructs you to sit up so he can help you drink it.

“I’m not an invalid,” you say, mock defiantly. “I can handle a cup of tea.”

“Your hands are shaking. I want the tea in your system, not in your lap.” You playfully swat at him, but he coolly dodges your fingers. His expression softens. “Just let me help you,” he states quietly. 

Obediently, you sit up and he lifts the teacup gently so you can drink. It’s a warm, rich tea, perfect for nights like this. Once you drink the whole cup, he sets it down and picks up the other one, bringing it towards your lips. You glare at him, but he stares back, unflinching. He knows you’ll give in. And you do. Once you finish the second cup, Shirou lifts your hand into his. Your shivering has subsided somewhat, but your skin still feels like a skating rink for the cold. The wolf man frowns.

“You’re still cold.”

“Yes, but I’m better now. I’m warmer.”

“Not as warm as I would like.” He presses your hand to his face and his nose twitches as he thinks for a moment.

“Shirou.”

“Hmm?”

“You don’t seem cold at all.”

“I’m a beastman,” he says, without opening his eyes. “I have a—” He breaks off suddenly. “I have an idea. Get back under the covers,” he orders.

You obey, then watch as he moves to the other side of the bed and slips in beside you.

“Come here,” he instructs, reaching out and pulling you toward him. You gladly scoot closer to him and by the time you make contact, you’re nestled against a soft mane of white fur. The fur tickles, but hey, it’s warm. You pull back to give him a kiss on the nose, but he misinterprets the gesture and suddenly stiffens.

“I’m sorry. I should have asked you first,” he blurts quickly. His voice is tense, nervous.

“What do you mean?”

Shirou glances away. “Not everyone is comfortable around a beastman. Especially a wolf. If my beast form bothers you, I can change back—”

“What makes you think I’m uncomfortable?”

Shirou’s ears perk up and he dares to look at you. Finally, he sighs. “When you touched my fur, you moved away. You probably weren’t expecting me to morph—”

He’s interrupted by your fingers, which have now laced themselves through his thick fur and pulled his face toward you. You plant a soft kiss on his nose. He stiffens again, then visibly relaxes beside you.

“I was going to kiss you, you dolt.”

“Oh,” he whines softly.

You release him and roll your eyes. “But not everyone is comfortable around a human. Especially an affectionate one. If my human form bothers you, I can change…oh, wait, I can’t.”

The wolf man emits a strange sound, something like a cross between a bark and a yelp. You glance at him and are surprised to see his body shaking. However, it did not seem to be from cold. Perhaps from…mirth? Was this his way of laughing?

“Humans have a sense of humor,” he chuckles.

“Of course we do,” you retort, crossing your arms. “We’re not all bloodthirsty killers.”

“Forgive me. I don’t have many…positive experiences with them.”

“You should get to know them better.”

“I will.” Shirou shifts in bed. “BUT...right now, I’m especially interested in this one.” Here, he reaches for your hands again and digs them into his fur. You need no explanation. The next few minutes pass in quiet bliss as you stroke Shirou’s fur and tickle his neck. The spell is only broken when Shirou whispers your name.

You open your eyes to find that Shirou is looking at you with no small expression of wonder. “You’re really okay with my beast form.”

You sigh and pull him towards you again. Then you tilt forward until your foreheads are touching. “Shirou. I’m not only okay with your beast form. I love your beast form. And your human form. I love you no matter what form you’re in. You could be a lump of coal and I’d still—”  

You feel Shirou freeze under your fingers. Then you realize that it’s the first time you’ve said those words out loud.

You want to smack yourself for your impulsiveness. I said it too soon, you realize with a sinking heart. Maybe he won’t notice? You think desperately. But it was too late. The words were said. The secret was out. Not that it was much of a secret. Michiru had been hounding you for days to fess up. Even Melissa and Gem grinned at each other whenever they saw you around Shirou. It was probably obvious to everyone but him. Well, now it’s not an open secret anymore. Now he knows.

Feeling self-conscious, you slowly remove your fingers from his fur and clamp them between your knees. You’re hoping to subtly slide away and pretend to be asleep. The wolf god was not fooled.

“Y/N,” he says quietly. You don’t respond. After a moment, you feel gentle claws slide down your arms and lift your hands out from under the covers. “If you think I’m going to let you slip away after that, you’re sorely mistaken.”

You open your eyes to see Shirou staring at you intensely. You know that you can’t wriggle your way out of this one.

“I didn’t mean to say it,” you state miserably, attempting to keep your voice steady. Shirou’s grip loosens, but he doesn’t let go completely. A long moment of silence passes.

“So you didn’t mean it,” Shirou says finally.

“No, I did mean it. I meant every word. I just didn’t mean to say it…so soon.”

“Why do you think it’s too soon?”

“Because…because we’re just starting out. And we’re taking it slow. And maybe you don’t feel the same way and I just ruined everything.”

Shirou kisses your forehead and envelopes you in a furry embrace. “If you think that what you said was going to ruin everything, then I don’t ever want you to stop. If you think that we’re just starting out and going too slow and your emotions are far ahead, then please destroy me at your leisure. Surely, this is a dream I’m having and when I wake, you will be gone and I will have nothing more than the elated aftertaste of the dream and the bitterness of you missing from beside me. But, for now, ruin me. I would love nothing more than to be utterly devastated by your words of confession.”

You take a deep breath. Maybe this was all a dream. In that case, you can be as free in your emotions as you want. So you sidle even closer to him and tangle yourself into his fur. Then you pour your heart out. “Shirou, my wild heart and shining soul, you cannot begin to fathom the extent of my feelings for you. It runs through my blood and warms my soul. It also makes me worry. And fear for you. I am thrown into panic whenever you are in danger, even if you are immortal, and I am flooded with relief when I am sure you are safe. You can reduce me to nothing with the lightest touch, the merest glance, the softest word, the tiniest gesture. Yet you also make me feel strong and electric and alive. How much do I love you? I love you to the deepest chambers of my heart and the weight of it is so much that my heart can hardly bear it. I long for your presence so achingly that I can barely keep myself together when you’re not around. You make me tremble and you make me still. You make me think of the future and you render me unable to think at all. If I loved you any more, I think I would dissolve altogether because my body could not longer contain it all. If I loved you any less, I would cease to exist because my love for you has become intertwined with the very essence of my being and I would unravel. I love you even more than these pathetic, futile words can express, but for now, this is all I have to offer you so I hope it is enough.”

You stop because you feel something wet trickle down your face. But…I’m not crying, am I? you think. Then you realize that the tears are not coming from you.

“Shirou!” you exclaim, alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

Shirou doesn’t bother wiping his tears. “Nothing is wrong. Nothing at all. How can anything be wrong right now?”

“Then why are you crying?”

“It’s just…I never imagined…” Shirou clears his throat, but when he speaks, his voice is still choked with emotion. “I find being thoroughly loved to be…thoroughly moving.”

“Well, you better get used to it,” you say. “Because I’m going to thoroughly love you every day.”

You both drift off to sleep like this. As sleep slowly overtakes you, an old poem comes to your mind, but your muddled brain scrambles it slightly:

“The cold is lovely, dark, and deep,

But I have my lover’s warmth to keep,

And Shirou to hold me while I sleep,

And Shirou to hold me while I sleep.” *** ***Author’s Note: For those of you who are unfamiliar, the last four lines are inspired by Robert Frost’s “Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening”  from The Poetry of Robert Frost, edited by Edward Connery Lathem. Copyright 1923, © 1969 by Henry Holt and Company, Inc., renewed 1951, by Robert Frost.