#everpoet

🐆 : randomised muse lists meme / accepting!

ellie & claudia -- in the iw.tv world, ellie would LOVE claudia i feel. she doesn't even need to know she's a vamp, but i definitely think they could be friends!

wylan & kevin -- there's a case to be made for foxes-wylan IF he had a sports-player bone in his body... alas... nonetheless, i do think they could be fun to put together if we could figure out a way for them to meet. i could see wylan as a busker around some of the bars the team might go to, OR andrew and kaz have a. i'm not gonna say friendship but an agreement about SOMETHING and wylan and kevin meet through them.

jean & peeta -- jean has a hg verse! i had the ravens/the moriyamas as a district one group that train up career tributes who volunteer in their last reaping and he was sent to train with them and then (unwillingly) volunteered etc etc. SO. either he's part of peeta & katniss' games OR he's around 13 when they arrive OR part of ur peeta's au

A resigned sigh escaped her as she strolled through the dimly lit corridors of the grand palace. The royal wing was a maze of turns and doors. Lark knew she should feel sorry for striking that old perverted noble, but she didn't. She only felt sorry that Nikolai; in his charming ways dealt with the situation with grace and humility. However, he didn't hear what the geezer had said.

Lark could endure many things, insults to herself were not uncommon. She had endured far worse under the darkling and tolerating the names under whispered breaths. Weapon. Doll. Whore. Monster. She had heard it all, but she found she could not stand the blatant insults toward the new King of Ravka. Murmurs of parentage being questioned, a weakling too young for his duty. While Nikolai had the grace to not be affected by rumors, Lark was surprised to find she did not. Would not. And so, like a strike of a viper, she struck him the moment that damn noble uttered the word: Bastard.

Lark turned down the hallway and gave a quiet nod to Tolya and Tamar who dutifully stood by the King's door, a quiet vigil, and one that Lark appreciated. However, she surmised that the reason for the silence was to keep Tolya from reciting poetry. She slipped past them and into the King's private chamber. Half of her suspected that he would be asleep, for it was incredibly late. The logical half told her he would be up tinkering with something or working on the bountiful stacks of paperwork.

Her sapphire gaze fell upon the man, and a pang of guilt rippled through her, she slipped her bruised hand into the pocket of her form-fitting trousers as she approached.

❝ You're up late. ❞ Said Lark as she settled into a vacant, velvet-bound chair. Slowly, she canted her head to the side, long waves of copper ginger hair were draped around her, it wasn't often she elected to wear it completely down but she found it too much a challenge to rebraid it into something neat and tidy as she wore it during the day.

❝ I think we need to talk...❞

024. a hotel room with only one bed

she should not allow this. patrick entering her orbit again only has potential to lead toward one thing — absolute and ultimate destruction. and yet, as they sit here in the sort of silence that neither is comfortable with, her life she's built with art is the farthest thing from her mind, while still ever-present in the way that it always is between the three of them. one pushes, one pulls, and one gets left in the dust. it's a tale as old as time. tonight, she is the match and he is the gasoline, ready to burn the kindling that her betrothed is all the way down to ash.

" you can't stay here tonight. " not when art's supposed to arrive in the morning, not when she doesn't know when he'll walk in and what he might walk in on.

but then he looks at her with those wet, pathetic eyes and although her armor is impenetrable, there's something there that comes close to fucking moving her. she knows it'll be another night in his car or another night slipping into the bed of a stranger that is decidedly not her — tashi's not sure which outcome makes her feel worse.

" fuck. you're pathetic. " he's got her right where he wants her. maybe not right where he wants her, but has her feeling badly enough for him that she makes room for him on the other side of the bed. she takes the opposite side than she usually does, finding it easier to make her peace with this if she doesn't roll over in her typical direction and expect to see art looking all moon-eyed back at her.

" fine. just don't hog the covers. " with that, she slips into the bathroom, door left open behind her as she goes to wash up for the evening, standing heavy with the weight of her choices once more.

spotify wrapped has arrived. send me a number from 1-100 for a starter based on that song, or a lyric from it, or send a 🎁 for me to shuffle.

accepting @everpoet // Marbles by The Amazing Devil

𝑰𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑬𝑽𝑰𝑫𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑳𝑨𝑹𝑲𝑺𝑷𝑼𝑹 𝑶𝑨𝑲𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑵 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑮𝑹𝑶𝑾𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑻𝑰𝑹𝑬𝑫. A social butterfly she was not. So when she had to endure another state dinner on Nikolai's behalf, she was attempting to be the best she could be. 

It was an utter surprise when Nikolai announced that she would be going to the dinner after her shameful display of punching a noble so hard it broke his nose ( and her hand ); she surely thought she would be barred from social functions and be made to hide among the other awkward Grisha. She had been looking forward to it. She wanted to spend the evening stowed away in the library to catch up on her reading. 

Now that she was dressed to the nines in Ravkan finery; a dark blue gown adorned with bits of satin fabric of gold and silver, while the trim flowed into a muted vermillion. This time she wore her hair up, and a bit of makeup, but nothing to hide her sprawling of freckles. She was covered in them, and there was no point in hiding them when she had them in abundance. 

She tried her best to be amiable. She was polite and tried small talk with the nobles. She quickly realized how exhausting all of this peacocking was. How did Nikolai do it? She had to get away lest she die of boredom. She didn't care about shoe buckles. She didn't care about what kind of grain goats ate. Yet, she feigned interest, and this earned her to be talked down to or flirted with. She detested both. She had to slip away at the first opportunity. She slipped away into a private room. 

Except it didn't seem all that private. Sapphire hues shot to Nikolai and she watched him for a moment. 

❝ 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐝, 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐥𝐥. ❞ She seethed quietly. 

lily wakes with a start. heart pounding, chest heaving, fingers gripping the silk sheets. there's a haze over her mind, a confusion clouding her senses. eyes struggle to adjust in the pitch black room, the outside world hidden away from view. the only indication of her whereabouts is a clock on the nightstand that informs her it's very early morning. it takes a moment for the memories to return. the final blow being dealt to her opponent. the sound of trumpets, the cheering of the crowd. the aches and pains in every part of her body. clothes soaked with blood, both hers and the deceased, and bones surely broken. and then the hovercraft taking her back to safety, and the needle that had sent her resistance to sleep.

now she's here. back where it all started, she would guess.

bare feet don't make a sound against carpeted floor, as hands use the walls to guide her way there's a small glow of light coming from the small gap underneath the door, and she can hear voices on the other side. one, she realises with a jolt, belongs to @everpoet. suddenly time becomes of the essence. she pulls the door open, not hearing it slam against the wall behind her, and almost runs towards james. at least, she does the best she can on unsteady feet. and he's right there, so close that she can touch. real and solid, and it's like everything hits her at once. lily survived. she won. she made it home.

then her lips are on his, hands pulling him as close as possible. their kiss mingling with the tears that roll down her cheeks. none of it is enough. she needs him closer still, so she can feel the beat of his heart and know they're both alive. she grips at every part of him that she can. the fabric of his shirt, his shoulders, and up to his hair. if there is an audience, she doesn't notice them leave the room with smiles on their faces and small tears in their eyes. they're just as taken with their love story as everyone else.

lily only breaks away when her lungs start to burn. cheeks wet with tears, lips turning a dark shade of red, hair completely out of place. she must look a mess, she thinks. who cares.

she can still hear the crowd cheering behind them, demanding more, more, more ! lily doesn't have more to give. doesn't really register the cheers turn to boos when the venue lights come on and security starts to usher them out. hadn't noticed the rest of the band have a wordless conversation, deciding to leave the two of them alone. no - everything is him. the way he made her feel a fool on stage, gave her a buzz that had nothing to do with the performance and everything to do with how close he was, how he was looking at her, how she could have so easily kissed him there and then.

until she reminded herself it wasn't real. that all that exists between them is mutual dislike.

and her heart still hasn't recovered. her chest heaving with the extra effort to catch her breath, sweating running down the side of her face. lily is furious. ❝ what the fuck was that? ❞ she doesn't raise her voice, in fact she sounds relatively calm for the amount of anger that's flowing through her veins. ❝ why would - what - ❞ she doesn't finish her sentence, @everpoet gets there first. and she's stunned. silence stretches on as lily finds the words to say. other than the obvious, of course. that she loves him too. has loved him since the first song. all these years, all this time.

@everpoet

nikolai & alucard

adam & gansey

tao & nick

james & shae

james & simon

florence & martin