is this the end times

Hello sweets!

Trash here to tell you that em…

I’ve been in the worst of moods lately, and not only that but have some big big things coming up that I really need to focus on. You all are very supportive of what I do, and I appreciate that! But after some thought, I’ve been considering the following.

With that said:

I might go on a hiatus from Tumblr. Possibly for a month.

It’s not guaranteed, but I’m really thinking about it. So if I do go on with this and anybody wants to contact me, do so via Twitter, deviantArt, or Discord (if you have my thing on there). 

Love you all! <3 Have a good day!

Waiting Game part 4 - Moriel fic

Summary: 50 years after the events of the last chapter, the Inner Circle celebrate Starfall for the first time since Rhysand was stripped of his power and separated from his friends. Afterward, Mor and Az discuss the changes they have gone through and come to a decision.

Part 1 (Waiting Game), Part 2 (Bedroom Wall), Part 3 (A Nearly Perfect Place)

Note: The first poem they read is Love Sonnet XVII, the second is Love Sonnet XI, both by Pablo Neruda. You can also read Full Circle as somewhat of a continuation of this series, btw, as it alludes to events in the second chapter.

NSFW towards the end – read on AO3



Morrigan took herself in in the full-length mirror before her. She had chosen a white dress for tonight, the silk hugging her curves, the color complementing her blond waves and golden brown eyes. She ran her hands over her hips, smoothing the fabric, and thought of what she and her friends had been through over the last 50 years. They deserved this. To have one night where they were together, and at least a few of them were happy. It was their favorite holiday, and she didn’t want Rhysand distracted from Feyre, from his potential happiness, by being worried about her.

She sighed quietly. Her cousin had suffered, and she was glad to see him finding some kind of happiness. When he had come to her, throwing the words at her – she’s my mate – Mor hadn’t known what to make of it. 50 years apart, afraid at any moment that Amarantha would kill him… He had been her champion repeatedly over the years, and the thought that she was helpless to aid him had nearly been too much sometimes. She had been overjoyed at his freedom, that he had his powers, that he had found his mate. But of course, that was quickly tempered by the fact that Feyre was not really his, by the little he had been willing to tell Mor about his time with Amarantha. She knew that he had endured far worse than what he had told her, and that she might never know the full extent of it.

Now they were facing an entirely new host of potential problems… But Feyre was here. And not only had Rhys found someone to help him heal, Mor had found one of the closest friends she had had in ages.

Before everything had changed, Mor had been so close to happiness herself, to what she had always wanted. Thoughts of their dinner at Rita’s flitted through her mind, Azriel pressing himself into her, telling her he loved her, his lips on hers… The evening before Rhys left they had been practically giddy, Azriel teasing and playing with her in ways that still pained her to remember. He hadn’t looked at her the same way since, with such joy in his eyes, and she didn’t blame him. The guilt for sending his lover Under the Mountain, the limbo it had left them in, had been too much.

She wouldn’t let herself regret the past too much; it was rarely ever productive. But sometimes, she wondered if things were now coming together… She shook her head, clearing it. If it wasn’t helpful to think of the past, perhaps it was no more so to think of what could be in the future. She could be hopeful, optimistic, but she didn’t want to have to live with the pain of seeing things fail to pass. Again.

After one last glance back in the mirror, she wandered downstairs to meet her friends.

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