I don't wanna go too deep but I thought I'd ask...? I really adore your blog. I kinda feel like I ruined my reputation on the internet and now nobody wants to talk to me or read my fanfiction work...? I'm sort of someone confusing, speak my mind too much about real life issues, or revert to being an introvert. Kinda bipolar by some people's standards. So now I just don't know how to gain a good reputation...? I'm kinda lost on what to do...
Be kind but take no shit. I guess that’s a good motto.
It’s very, very, very important to learn as soon as possible that you can’t control others nor make them agree with you in every matter. Some things which are important to you aren’t important to others and it will not help you (or them) to try to make them change their minds and views. They will do that themselves when they’re ready - and if they’re ready. Being too aggressive and trying to force others to see things as you are will give you a bad reputation - you don’t like to have your voice suppressed, so why others would be happy when you try to “help” them by trying to suppress their voice, even when you would genuinely mean well?
Don’t step on people’s toes if you don’t want enemies. Instead of resisting of something, point your attention to what you want. If you for example resist hate, turn your attention to kindness instead of yelling about hate and underlining how much hate there is in this world.
It’s time for your redeem arch; be who you are but allow others to be who they are, too. If you feel a need for a formal apology, do it. It’s no shame to realize you have acted poorly but it tells you have grown up, matured enough, to understand your own self better.
In your fics, write what you want to write, in a way you want to write. Those who will dislike it, ignore them. You’re not pleasing here them with your creations, but creating things only you can create, in your own way. With people who don’t like your stuff you can either thank them for their feedback or ignore them completely. Those who will love your work, will read them, now and in the future.
It’s never too late to start again. Start a new. Make a new writing account if you want and thus “abandon” the old you which you are no longer :3
i only watched it once and it was at school when i was around 15/16 years old so i may not remember much. i liked it a lot but then we had a class discussion and people were coming up with the worst homophobic shit. i remember it vividly and it kinda ruined the experience for me, but i did like the movie itself
This one was inspired by this gorgeous pic. I blame it fully for this drabble and its tooth-rotting fluff.
The garden had been a sanctuary for Azriel and Elain since the very start of their relationship, back when they had been nothing more than tentative friends thrown together in a time of need. But even then, Azriel had always enjoyed being able to sit on one of the many benches, wings out as he quietly watched Elain tend to the blooming flowers. It was a still, soothing peace – one that he had often yearned for in his long existence, but rarely attained. His friends were a rowdy bunch after all, and the world was forever a dangerous place; far too dangerous to allow him any measure of rest.
But Elain, lovely Elain… she could calm Azriel down like no other and yet could also set him all ablaze with a single touch. (She was shy and sweet, no doubt, but underneath all of that careful poise, underneath all of the ingrained manners and etiquette, was a fiercely passionate heart. She was truly a wondrous thing to behold, in every aspect of life.)
As their relationship progressed from friendship into something else entirely, they spent more and more of their time in the garden of the house she kept with her sisters. Azriel treasured the moments they had together amidst the carefully manicured plants… Like when he would be lounging on his usual bench, eyes closed against the bright sun, until Elain would suddenly be at his side, a small smile tugging at berry-colored lips. She’d settle softly next to him without out a word, her body half on top of his so they could both fit on the bench’s narrow iron frame.
There was just nothing quite like the sheer warmth of those moments. He hoped the memories of them would forever stay clear in his mind, that even decades, centuries from now, he would remember the feeling of Elain Archeron lying atop his chest, her head tucked into the crook of his neck as he ran his fingers through soft, soft hair.
The first time she’d done it, laid with him like that, she’d been so hesitant, afraid of making the wrong move, of scaring him off… afraid of asking for what she truly wanted after she’d had her heart so brutally broken. But when Azriel had opened his eyes to find her standing nervously in front of his bench, her hand half raised towards him, he had only reached out and tugged her onto him. He could bear her weight easily, and would gladly do so for as long as she wished. Elain, for her part, had worn a soft smile as she slowly relaxed into his body, her cheeks flushed with color. There was no embarrassment in her countenance, however, not with Azriel.
So, yes, their time in the garden was precious. It was a place so wholly peaceful that even Azriel, who lived the majority of his life wreathed in shadows, who greeted pain as an old friend, could not help but bask in it. It was also the only place that seemed to ease the visions that so often plagued Elain. Though it did not happen nearly as often as it once had, there were still days where her mind was so full of the threads of their futures that she could barely think. Days where Azriel could do nothing more than be there and listen to the soft murmurings of futures he could barely decipher, watching over the world around them as Elain’s eyes remained clouded and sightless.
There was nothing else he could do… but bring her into their favorite sanctuary. The peace of the garden helped to rein in her visions, the quiet buzz of life around them giving her strength. It was the familiarity, Azriel thought, that helped her most; the one tie apart from her sisters that she continued to have to her former mortal life.
Today was another bad day. Azriel had awoken to Elain’s feverish mutterings, had tried to calm her in his usual way (soft hands stroking down her sides, kisses pressed to her shoulders as he tried to bring her back into the present). When that didn’t work, he immediately wrapped a shawl around Elain’s shoulders (modest even in immortality, Azriel knew she be humiliated if she woke to find herself in nothing but her thin night gown) and spared a brief moment to pull on some pants, forgoing a shirt in his urgency. He lifted Elain gently, holding her tight to his bare chest as he walked them down into the ever-peaceful garden.
Instead of heading to their bench, however, he sat amidst the grass, Elain laying against him in the v of his legs. He knew that she would come back faster down here, amidst the product of all her hard work, the flowers rustling in a gentle breeze. So Azriel sat, keeping his arms around the seer as a reminder that he was there, but loose enough that she didn’t feel locked in. (It was hard for her, when her body was here with him, but her mind elsewhere. She was often panicked when she came back.)
Azriel sat and he did what he did best. He listened. His wings were a shelter around them, the riddles of Elain’s visions contained within as she muttered them to him. Azriel memorized them all, catalogued them for later. He was the spymaster after all, even on days like these.
Slowly, slowly he felt Elain return from wherever she’d been. He only relaxed fully when she crawled away from him though, her hands going into the flowers all around them. Her mind was still half in the future, eyes slightly glazed, but she kept her hands busy, using the task in front of her to regain control. Azriel watched as she methodically picked flowers, weaving them together with a kind of artistry that all of the Archeron sisters, even Nesta, seemed to possess.
He stayed carefully silent as he leaned back onto his elbows, his attention never wavering from Elain. She looked so heart-achingly beautiful in the dawn light, soft and gentle but with that innate strength of hers shining through as she slowly mastered her powers.
And then she finally, finally blinked. Her eyes were clear as they gazed at him. Blessedly lucid.
“There she is,” he said softly, proudly.
Elain immediately smiled, even through her exhaustion and pain. She crawled back into his embrace, wrapped loose arms around his shoulders as she ducked her forehead against his. Her eyes closed. “Hello,” she said, her voice filled with relief.
Azriel’s hand went under her hair to rest on the back of her neck. “Hello,” he responded in kind.
(There would be time to question her about the visions later. She deserved a little bit of peace first. She always did. Azriel would have given everything he had, if only he could continue to give Elain Archeron the peace she deserved.)
She shifted back a bit from him, her arms falling into her lap as she looked at the flowery creation she held in one hand. Her fingers trailed over the red and pink petals.
“What’s that?” he asked.
A mischievous glint lit in Elain’s tired eyes. “It’s for you.” She crooked a finger at him, gesturing for him to duck forward.
He did so. And then Elain reached up placed the flowers atop his head, hands almost benevolent as she settled them in his hair. Azriel blinked in surprise. A crown. She’d made him a crown. He felt something like heat fly to his cheeks.
“I’m not entirely sure a spy like me is fit to wear a crown,” Azriel finally managed to reply, sardonic.
Elain watched him for a moment, her fingers tracing over the whorls of the Illyrian tattoos that covered his shoulders. (Their design was unlike those of his brothers – these swirls looked like smoke and mist and shadow.) Finally, she looked up to meet his burning gaze. “You’re much more than just a spy, Azriel,” she said in a soft voice that left no room for argument. “And you deserve more than just a crown.”
He had to swallow past the emotion in his throat when she took one of his hands in hers, kissing the inside of his scarred palm without fear or revulsion.
“Regardless, I think something’s missing here,” Azriel told her after a pause, reaching out to pick a pretty white flower with his free hand. He put it gently behind her ear, tucking her hair around it. “There. Now we match.”
Elain responded with rosy cheeks and a smile… and then by throwing her arms around him again, pressing kisses to his jaw. She was always so beautifully tactile with him, especially after a vision. He buried his head in her neck for a long moment, wanting to just breathe her in. Her arms tightened around him at that, fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck. Azriel held on long enough to be surrounded by nothing but Elain, by her comforting scent.
When he reluctantly loosened his hold, she didn’t go far, only placing her forehead against his. This time she kept her eyes open though, and he would had to be blind not to see the love and adoration and want shining there.
“Hello,” he said again, his mouth mere inches from hers, his voice rough.
“Hello,” she replied, breathless.
Azriel’s eyes flicked down to her lips for the briefest moment. “I’m going to have to kiss you now.”
Elain smiled, a thing so bright it was almost painful. “If you insist.”
And he did. After all, how could he not? It was Elain.