#this one didn't want to come out

[sad-scarred-sassy]

The tragedy of Spring🥀 - Chapter 6

Summary: Feyre Archeron finds out the truth.

Notes: I needed to get this out before it drove me insane! I hope you guys like it.

Read on AO3 or keep reading below the cut.

“You will be mine” She heard his voice, soft, vibrating over her body and luring her through the haze.

“And I will be yours” She felt his fingers on her waist, the place where she had felt them on her all night, moving her, guiding her. She felt a creeping sensation throughout her body, emerging from the pit of her stomach, screaming at her to run, but when she opened her eyes she saw stars and a universe of calm and comfort. A voice in her mind told her to run towards it, to grasp it and bathe herself in it, in the feeling, in his touch, his words.

But her body felt paralyzed, unsure.

Through the fog in her world she conjured a thought. “I don’t need you” She tried to get away, but his hands held her to him and she couldn’t help but stay still under them.

“Oh but you do” He said, voice soft and breathy, like a beautiful viper. “I can give you what you want, what you need. I can keep you safe”

“Safe?” The word felt so foreign to her now.

“Nothing bad will ever happen to you by my hand” He breathed on her skin and her body reacted. “That’s my word”

She knew something was off, something she couldn’t place, like when trying to hold on to a dream but feeling it slip away.

“Say it. Say it, Feyre” His breath hit her neck and her body trembled, urging her to speak or to flee, she wasn’t sure. The world was too dark, her body felt too tired and she was so desperate for that light, shining from his star-flecked eyes.

“I am yours, you are mine” She chanted, her words coming out monotonously, her vision blurring, hands and legs tingling.

“Perfect” She heard him say. “Close your eyes and rest, my mate ”

——

“Feyre”

She felt a pang in her stomach, like a rock had been dropped inside of it, painfully and all at once. Her arms and legs lost all strength as she looked into her sister’s wide and shocked eyes. She heard a horrible, consistent ringing in her ears, like a woman screeching inside her head, maybe that was her.

“You will be mine. And I will be yours”

Rhysand’s voice rang inside her mind. It couldn’t be. It had to be a mistake, Elain had to be mistaken.

“Feyre, calm down” Elain said, but she wasn’t calm herself, she looked lost too. It didn’t reassure her in the least.

“Y-you have to be mistaken” She felt herself say.

“Feyre I-“ Her brown eyes were glossy, tears beginning to form. Feyre couldn’t accept it.

“No! He’s my mate! I felt it, I felt him!” She was yelling now, but her sister only watched her.

“What I showed you, I didn’t make it up” She said softly, holding her hand tightly, as if she may disappear.

Feyre stared at her and it dawned on her then. How the moment she had come back from the dead she hadn’t felt it anymore, that tether to him that used to be like a piece of her soul, like he owned some of hers the way she owned some of his. How it had been easier to separate her thoughts from him then, easier to reject him, easier to want to leave him. He had broken the bargain.

“Nothing bad will ever happen to you by my hand”

She realized she was hyperventilating when Elain got to her feet and told her to breathe with her, to calm down. But she couldn’t calm down, because she was inside a nightmare, her world was falling apart, her life was a complete lie.

Why? The question popped inside her head and she couldn’t find an answer.

Why? Why? Why?

She realized she was chanting it, holding herself, rocking back and forth. Elain was trying to hold her together, but she was panicking herself.

“What’s happening?” She heard a familiar voice ask. Lucien. She started sobbing then.

“Lucien, help me. You need to get Nesta” The world was a vacuum, the voices were muffled. She needed more air or she was going to die.

“What is happening Elain? Why is she having a panic attack?”

“Listen” Elain rose. “I think we could be in danger, just get Nesta and don’t tell anyone. Not Azriel, not Cassian, not Rhysand. Please”

A moment later Elain was holding her hand again.

“Feyre, listen to me.” Her voice was so clear and solid she had to obey. “You need to breathe slowly, or you will pass out” She held her face in her small hands. “Listen to me, everything will be okay”

“No, it won’t Elain” She was sobbing, her head was throbbing and her whole body was shaking. “Why would he do this? Why would he make me do this?”

“I don’t know” Elain was trying not to cry.

As if on cue she heard Nyx’s cry from his nursery room.

A second rock, a bigger, more disgusting rock dropped inside her stomach and she looked up at Elain’s face with a horrified expression.

“No” Elain whispered. She shook her head softly. “It couldn’t be” But her brown eyes cleared, and she could see the truth hitting her in the face.

“An heir” She coughed.

Something inside of her snapped, and she stood up, running towards his room. She almost tripped a few times, dodging vases and furniture as she kept going towards the voice of her son crying.

When she finally arrived she almost threw herself at him, picking him up and cradling him in her trembling arms.

Feyre Archeron knew two things. One, the love of her life had lied to her, manipulated her and used her. Two, she would not let anyone take her baby away from her.

Elain caught up to her, Lucien and Nesta trailing behind her with concerned faces.

“Feyre-“ Nesta said, her grey eyes looking at her with such concern it made her want to keep crying. She looked at her older sister straight in the eyes.

“Run” She said and she winnowed.

——

When she arrived in Spring, she didn’t have any time to question herself, question why she had come here, she only had time to hold her baby tight to her body, as if scared someone might rip him away from her at any moment, and started running through the thick foliage of the forest. She knew she was close to the old manor, she had memorized these woods thoroughly.

Her bare feet were aching as she kept going, Nyx crying in her arms as she felt her own tears stream down her face. She was scared and hurt, and she couldn’t stop crying too.

When she finally reached the old manor she halted abruptly as she saw faeries of all kinds stopping whatever they were doing to look at her curiously.

Her chest was rising and falling quickly as she looked at their faces. Fae of all colors, shapes and sizes appeared to be working on the manor, reconstructing it. In that moment she felt the guilt of her past actions hit her like a thunder.

There she was running for help to the place she willingly destroyed, condemned thousands and never looked back. She wanted someone to step up and kill her right then and there. To make her pay. Make it all go away. The fae folk only stared at her some more.

“Feyre Cursebreaker?” One of them said and she couldn’t help a sob.

She shouldn’t be here, she should leave. Go somewhere else, somewhere no one will know.

“Feyre?” A voice soft but low that she knew all too well said from her back. She swirled to look at him, as if she couldn’t help it.

She saw his green eyes first, his tied golden hair second, strands falling on his perfect but sweaty face.

“Tamlin” She choked slightly. She looked down at her baby and then at him again. “I need-I don’t know where else to go and I-we need help” She sobbed, feeling like the worst person, the smallest most pathetic worm in the universe as he approached her slowly, as if scared she may run away, with only deep concern in his emerald gaze. As much as she looked for it, she couldn't find one hint of gloating in his eyes, not a pinch of contempt. She only wanted to crumble down and cry.

When he stepped in front of her, hands up as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them, he steadied a breath.

“What do you need?”

----

The wrath of a High Lord was something Nesta Archeron had been strangely acquainted with by now. When Rhysand snarled in her face, waves of dark power emanating from his tall frame as his muscles rippled, she didn't even flinch. 

“You let her leave” He spat at her, staring her down. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know” She said, but her own anger was already beginning to drown her, she could feel the cold fire tingling in her fingers, waiting, like a snake before it strikes. 

“I said, where is she?!” He screamed, pushing the table that had been between them like it was nothing, making it crash against the wall with a loud thump. She only stared at him, unamused. 

“Rhys, let’s just calm down” Her mate’s voice sounded from her side. Cassian was wincing with each word spoken, unsure what to do, what to say. She tightened her fisted hands, the weight of Ataraxia on her hip comforting her. “I’m sure whatever is going on can be resolved if we all just calm down” 

Feyre had told her to run, but she would be damned before she did that. Nesta Archeron would never cower before a male ever again, she had promised herself that, and this one wasn’t any different, most powerful High Lord or not. Besides, she wanted to be the one to have the pleasure of delivering the news.

“No” She said and both males pinned their eyes on her. She pointed at Rhysand. “He is a liar” She made sure her voice was clear and sharp as Cassian’s eyes only looked more shocked by the second. “He machinated a mating bond with my sister, your so-called High Lady, made her seal a bargain and then made sure she forgot about it” She cocked her head at Rhysand. “Now she knows, and she left you”

Rhysand’s face was suddenly displaying a cold, calculated fury she had the displeasure of knowing too well.

“No, that’s not true, where did you come up with something like that?” Cassian was saying, but her eyes were on the High Lord. When Rhysand didn’t utter a word, Cassian became more agitated. “Rhys, what-” 

“Tell him” She said softly, tenderly, like speaking to a toddler. “Tell him what you did to her. You can also mention all the ways in which you tormented her Under The Mountain, then pretended to be her savior” She savoured the venom in her tongue. 

Shadows sizzled in the corner and she knew Azriel had been listening for a long while.

“Rhys?” Cassian tried, but Rhysand’s violet eyes were fixed on her, weighing what to do, probably planning how to kill her without making Cassian go mad.

“She took my son” He said and the whole house trembled. 

“She took her son” Nesta said. “She died for him, remember?” She was sure he would try to kill her now.

“Rhys tell me this is not true” Cassian was pacing now, his heavy steps reverberating through the wooden floors of the River House. “It cannot be true”

“It is” A melodic voice sounded from her periphery. Azriel. “You did that to her. You made her believe she was your mate? How could you do that?” Azriel’s shadows swarmed him, the anger and betrayal on his face was cold and horrifying.

Rhysand’s eyes left her for a second to look at his favorite subject. “I had no choice”

Nesta scoffed, Cassian ran his hands through his long hair. 

“I will not repeat myself, where is she?” He commanded with such force her body fought to stay still. She straightened. 

“I don’t know, and even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you even if you made him torture me” She pointed at Azriel, who was stiffly looking at his High Lord. Centuries of blind loyalty and undying brotherhood, hanging by a thread, a thread she had no issues in cutting. “I will leave now, and if you try to stop me, I will make you eat shit”

She turned to leave but Cassian held her back. “Wait, Nesta let’s just, let’s hear him out” 

“No” She said. “I don’t give a fuck about his reasons. There is no justification, not this time” She spat. Her mate’s amber eyes were devastated, lost, like he was a stranded child, he looked like he may cry, and she didn’t fault him for that. She tightened her fists again as she fought the urge to simply stay, give in to him and comfort him. But she couldn’t, and Cassian knew it, he was trying to deny it but he knew there was no coming back from this.

She looked at Rhysand one more time and her eyes of steel met the violet fury of his. He disgusted her. “Leave her alone, or I will put you down, and you know I don’t make false promises”

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Five foot something and he's royalty.

[expelliarmus]

[mimimar]

finally completed my comic based on the song ivy by taylor swift!✿ please zoom in to read the text and see the details~

✿.✿.✿

you can get the digital zine pdf here! it includes extras like character profiles, costume design, more art of willow and ivy, zine-exclusive sketches and an illustrated guide to the symbolism of all the flowers in this comic.

you can also get prints of individual pages here!

✿.✿.✿

[vaxxman]

Could I request Medic having The Mom Grip on Scout’s shoulder after the speedy moron almost let a mercenary secret slip while they weee getting groceries?

Three Europeans and two Americans walk into a grocery store in New Mexico.

I hope this is the right meme.

More silliness below.

This comic is the antithesis of the "wtf is a kilometre" joke.

The faces they make when they can't quite identify the type of brown bread in the bread aisle.

You don't know how [insert nationality here] you are until you go overseas and things are different.

Spy obviously has no problems with pretending to know how much a gallon of milk is, he just peeks into his conversion chart notes, pretending it's his shopping list.

I want to think Heavy is completely fine with having to readjust to a new unit system, he just eyeballs most practical things anyways by holding them up and mumbling about how they approximately weigh like a chicken or his kettle bell etc. He's always been living in practical ignorant bliss.

Medic has a peer reviewed meltdown the first time he realises there's no uniformity in "a cup of ____" because every object has different densities. He's diligent about memorising the conversion rates for ounces, pounds, the most common things etc., and recovers ok. He goes through the same stages of grief rage when he finds out about distances and lengths.

Just remember four inches are 10.16 cm and pray no one asks you to specify anything bigger than inches.

Everyone does a mental victory lap when they manage to guess how much Celsius the weather is because they keep forgetting it's Celsius*5/9+32=Fahrenheit, Engineer reminds them patiently.

The true victories are the correct temperature guesses we've made along the way.

One time, a friend asked me if I actually knew how much a tablespoon of flour was in gramms to convince me that metric users also make use of volume based units without thinking about them. But little did she know a heaped spoonful of 405 flour is about 15g and a level tablespoon is 10g.

They claim Oolong just tastes better when it's boiled to 80°C exactly with a Bunsen burner.

You only asked for one scene but somehow I came up with a bunch of other things. This post was drawn across 2 months so the artstyle is all over the place. Thanks for your ask!

[somerandomcockroach]

SNOW BOTS ARE BACK BABE, IF IT WILL BE LIKE THAT EVERY YEAR I MIGHT DIE ONE DAY OF HAPPINESS WHEEEZE (I mean, drawing them like that is so much faster, plus colors, plus snow, plus they all are alive, COME ON IT'S A DREAM) Go smooch @keferon and everyone who makes "everyone is happy" content wheeeeeze

[anoant-haikyuu-dump]

Kenma meets his future self

[starry-bi-sky]

do yall ever think about bruce/batman!clone danny standing in front of his bathroom mirror after finding out he was a clone and silently tracing his face. The slope of his jaw and point of his chin. The high angle of his cheekbones and the shape of his eyes, the curve of his brow bones and the shape of his nose. The volume of his hair and the way it curls and gets fluffy when it gets too long.

His hair is black the same way a crow's wing is black. His dad's hair is black the same way a black bear's fur is black. His dad's eyes are blue like the ocean is blue. Danny's eyes are blue the same way a glacier is blue.

His dad has a square jaw and straight flat hair, and he tans and gets a face full of freckles when he's out in the sun for too long. Danny burns like a lobster and his face remains untouched. Danny has a sharp jaw and tall cheekbones, and Sam says when he's not smiling there's almost something regal about him. You would never call Jack Fenton "regal" when he's not smiling.

Sam says when he's not smiling he looks scary the same way a stone statue is. Jack Fenton when he's not smiling looks scary the same way that german shepherd staring at you across the street is.

Do you ever think he grew up wondering if he was adopted. Because of course, he has black hair and blue eyes like his dad. But having the same color doesn't make you someone's child.

Or, worse, things he's heard from the other kids and the other parents and even some of his teachers growing up; that he was the product of an affair. And that his dad was just too stupid to notice. And Danny would defend his parents until the day he died, because Jack Fenton wasn't an idiot and Maddie Fenton wasn't a cheater.

But doubt comes in with fickle tongue. his parents swear up and down that he is their child when he asks about either. That Danny just had his grandparents' features, but he was their son and they loved him.

But Danny doesn't look like either of his parents. His mom's eyes are blue like an aquamarine and Jazz's too. And they burn like lobsters in the sun too, but Jazz gets freckles on her face and so does Maddie. And as Danny grows up he doesn't bulk up or get stocky like his dad did, and when he hits puberty he doesn't shoot up like a tree like Jack Fenton did.

He stays small, and they say he's a late bloomer (and he is), or that he just has his mom's height. But he's fast and has good stamina, and some days it feels like he's built entirely different from his family. That the things they went through growing up just didn't apply to him. Jack and Maddie Fenton both had acne and breakouts when they hit puberty, and Jazz inherits it and he's seen the amount of skincare products she keeps on her side of the bathroom.

And then he hits puberty and breaks out maybe once or twice, but his skin stays clear for the most part and the problems and changes his dad went through just don't happen to him.

And the truth is worse than all of the lies.

How horrifying.

[yuwuta]

olympics coming up…… athlete aus on the mind….. satoru as a swimmer….. unreasonably large wingspan…. huge hands..... thinks “official” competitions and tournaments are boring because he can’t use the goofy purple googly eyes goggles he likes to practice in…… practices at ungodly hours solely because he likes when the pool is empty because that means you’ll dip your feet in at the edge and be there to greet him with a kiss when he’s finished his laps….. they bring up the stats board and it’s just his name ten times before the next fastest person and he could still lap them, and even tho he’ll always put so much pressure on himself to be the best, it’s worth it to have you hold his face and tell him you’re proud of him... he’s gotten so much merch from events and sponsorships and he used to think they just created clutter but that all changes when you start to wear his clothes (esp the ones with his name on it… he’s not proud to admit that does Something to him)…. always looks up to the stands when he finishes a race and if he knows you’re not there, he looks right at the camera, draws an infinity sign with his fingers, and blows a kiss (which, some commentators routinely call “unsportsmanlike conduct” but he doesn’t care, and always, publicly says he’ll pay the fees if it means blowing a kiss to his girl at home)

[anewp0tat0]

i lied i had like atleast one more weston thought to expell from my brain, before i miss this boat entirely. we're heading to green lands woooo

[claraoswalds]

#mrs flood who are you: time lord edition

[buglaur]

wanted to make a render to get back into the hang of things

[deoidesign]

One of my first digital pieces (2010) versus one of my recent ones (2024)

We all start somewhere!

[crystalpalacesasaki]

quote by @the-alethiometer

For @crystal-week Day 7: Free Day

[bonefall]

Hey, what makes a character a 'plot device but not a character'? And how do you not do that? I'm trying to do it on purpose but also I need to still make them interesting because it's on purpose, yknow?

A good skill to pick up is to learn to criticise criticism itself. A "plot device" is simply a thing that moves the plot along, it's a neutral literary analysis term! Usually, when people are angry that "a character has been used as a plot device," it doesn't mean they hate plot devices. It means they're gesturing at something deeper.

Runningwind and Bumble are equally plot devices in their deaths. They are both killed by the antagonist to escalate political tension. Runningwind is rarely "accused" of just being a plot device, and yet, we're talking about Bumble for the same thing.

So, why?

Well, Runningwind is just a background character, but in life, he was a part of the community. He was characterized as impatient but responsible. Yet, he wasn't SO important that he died with a bunch of unresolved plot threads.

He is mostly an extension of the entity of ThunderClan. His killing by Tigerstar, and the fear and paranoia that settles on the group after this, feel like a progression of the story insteas of something forced.

Bumble, on the other hand...

Is hated immediately by Gray Wing, when she's established as Turtle Tail's friend. Bumble's abuse at Tom the Wifebeater's hands invites even MORE investment. The rejection is shocking and upsetting. There's a story there about our main characters being imperfect; jealous, bigoted, and judgemental.

But, she is simply killed off. Everything they set up for this character is gone with little personalized fanfare. It's not a tragedy with a lesson about cruelty, or something anyone regrets.

It's just... plot. Gray Wing whinging that no one will like his shitty brother now that his body count is 2.

More than that, in the discussion of women in particular, "Fridging" was coined to give a name to the way women characters often don't get their stories told at all. There is a CULTURAL trend of female characters facing disproportionate violence, for the sake of advancing male plots.

Bumble has a lot going for her. Petal had a lot going for her. Turtle Tail had a lot going for her. Bright Stream had a lot going for her. When they died, they took their potential with them.

It's not always wrong to kill off a character of high potential, mind you. In Gurren Lagann, Kamina's death is sudden and shocking, leaving a massive hole in the hearts of the cast that never heals. Grappling with that loss, but also letting his memory fuel them, is a major theme of that story.

All that to say... there's no formula for avoiding it. You've gotta identify what the deeper issue is, in your specific narrative.

I can't say for certain what that will look like for your story, but here's some things I keep in mind;

When you make characters who exist to die, make sure they're people before you axe them.

Ask yourself; what about them does the cast miss?

If they just miss them because they were (pre-existing relationship), go back to the drawing board.

Fluttering Bird as an example. Who was she? Dead sister. Why do they miss her? Dead sister. No traits until after her death.

Runningwind was short-tempered and helpful. Kamina was a valuable leader who made people believe in a brighter future. Swiftpaw was fiesty and desperate to prove himself. The better characterized, the more profound the loss usually is.

If this is a female character who is dying just to serve the plot, be aware of cultural bias and tropes. How is the gender ratio looking in your cast? Is this happening disproportionately with your girls?

Note how Quiet Rain's litter had both a boy and a girl, but the girl was chosen to be "weaker" and wither away.

And how most of the time in DOTC, whenever a man had to be upset, a girl would get killed for it.

If you ever feel like the character on the chopping block is NOT a full character, ask yourself why it needs to be a character at all. You don't need to spend narrative time building out someone when a literal object of high value might suffice.

"My sister died when I swore to protect her and I can't face my family" = Old. Tired. Ive seen this.

"I lost my heirloom sword when I swore to protect it and I can't face my family." = Fascinating. Why was the sword so valuable? Will they really not take you back? How did you lose it?

When you do kill off "high value" characters, try to make sure you're not leaving too many plot threads hanging. Or at least make a point of how they will never get closure.

[somegrumpynerd]

Cross has trouble getting to sleep alone in his room and goes looking for a distraction, but ends up finding a solution for both of them