NOOOO

NOOOO

FUCKING RUINED IT

BAHAHAHA THIS IS SO GOOD

I posted a small "animation" in my tiktok - katharsiii. I will be glad if you rate it 😔💅🏻

bonus emrys and luca here

Inspired by my two favourite fics atm,

Look at us now my @mariaofdoranelle

And Until proven guilty by @leiawritesstories

Just wjated to show my appreciation :3

Rambling thoughts (NSFW)

I don't know why my Brain is so much more productive producing stories at night time. Like just before I sleep. I'm not getting many ideas right now for a plot line but I just KNOW when I get snug and cozy my bar in will be turning those gears, whirring those machines and the sad part is I won't remember half of it when I wake up,

except the exact positions in which he fucks her and how he "peering up from his lashes, an innocent look on his face" while eating her out like THANKS, BUT I'M GONNA NEED A BIT MORW THAN THAT

THAT'S SO HEARTBREAKING/WARMING AHHHH

over my heart

@throneofglassmicrofics August prompt: "Acceptance"

word count: 700

warnings: discussions of grief, tw: tattoo needles

*monty python narrator voice* and now for something completely different...enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Except for the consultation, neither of them had spoken. Instead, the steady low thrum of the tattoo needle's buzzing filled the cool, dry air, covering the background hum of the shop's air conditioning. The sign in the window had been flipped to "CLOSED" hours ago, but after business hours was the only time Rowan had wanted to come in for his appointment.

It was easier if there was no one else around.

Over the phone, the tattoo artist had initially hesitated, but Rowan was a close friend and she understood his need to be alone. They had traded emails with her initial sketches based on his descriptions of what he wanted, and she'd finally refined the design to fit his vision and agreed to have him come in that quiet Thursday night. Although her shop faced one of the main streets of downtown Orynth, it was a few blocks away from the popular cluster of bars and late-night shops, so there were typically very few people who walked past the shop after dark.

His eyes were closed, and he breathed rhythmically but not too deeply as she worked, bent over his torso. It would be best if you didn't inhale too deeply, since the tattoo will be on your ribs, she'd explained. Her black-gloved hands were steady, and her bright blue eyes were focused sharply on the path of her tattoo needle as it traced precise lines into her client's skin. He'd barely moved since they finished the consultation and she prompted him to get comfortable for the tattoo, and she would have worried that he'd passed out if she didn't know Rowan Whitethorn better than that.

The man could be as impassive as granite when he wanted to be, and now was clearly one of those times. She couldn't blame him---many of her clients came to her for deeply emotional tattoos, and it had taken all of her restraint not to sob when Rowan had first reached out about this particular tattoo. After so many months of watching him draw further and further into himself, of wishing she or anyone else could reach out and pull him from the depths of his anger, his pleas, his bargaining, and his soul-cracking sorrow, it was a massive breath of relief when he'd asked her to ink him.

Lyria had cast her light over the bleakness of Rowan's past, and when that light blinked out, Aelin was afraid Rowan would never see brightness again.

Beneath her buzzing needle, his heart beat steadily, thudding a gentle counterpoint to the mechanical hum of her work. The strokes of the Old Terrasenian characters unfolded under her skilled hands, an epitaph sketched over Rowan's heart, as he'd requested. I need to carry her as close to me as possible; can you place the piece over my heart? The ink that scrolled over Aelin's own heart hummed, as if in reply, a finely spun thread of soul-deep understanding that connected her to him in his grief. She knew what it was like to lose someone who held the keys to her heart. If Rowan needed a tattoo to help him navigate the twisting path of loss (as she did), she considered it her honor to give him that piece of support.

After she set aside her tools, wiped antiseptic solution over Rowan's fresh tattoo, and carefully covered it in clear film, Aelin discarded her gloves and handed Rowan a small mirror. He angled it down so he could see the Old Terrasenian script over his heart, and the suggestion of a smile tugged at one corner of his lips as he read the words she's so carefully rendered.

Lyria, beloved light of my heart

Rowan handed Aelin the mirror and traced a fingertip lightly over the clear film protecting the fresh tattoo. Slowly, he sat up and reached for his shirt, pulling the worn cotton over his head with care. As he stood to leave, he met her eyes, and something that could have been understanding passed between them. His lips moved, the words so soft that she didn't properly hear them until after he'd left the shop and closed the bell-laden door behind him.

"Thank you."

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@renxzs

@anarchiii

@fauna-flora11

Fenrys in progress...

First time drawing a wolf so it's a bit hard, but we vibe