When I Just Want To Talk About Characters I've Loved Since Childhood And Learned Valuable Life Lessons

people are literally so boring a male character will kill 10000 people and steal candy from babies and theyll be like omg thats my king! but a female character is rude once and theyre like i hope she dies violently

rb to tell prev they're being so brave right now and pat their head a little please

a writing competition i was going to participate in again this year has announced that they now allow AI generated content to be submitted

their reasoning being that "we couldn't ban it even if we wanted to, every writer already uses it anyway"

"Every writer"?

come on

“This is your daily, friendly reminder to use commas instead of periods during the dialogue of your story,” she said with a smile.

What Once Was

pairing: Tamlin x Lucien

word count: 697

warnings: none

a/n: written for day 1 of @tamlinweek using the forgiveness prompt. also if i have any hotd fans you may recognize a line at the end, i just thought it worked so well for Tamlin hehe

The Spring Court was quieter than Lucien remembered.

The wind whispered through the overgrown hedges, the scent of wildflowers heavy in the warm air. The once-perfect gardens looked like they had surrendered to time—petals spilling, ivy climbing unchecked, a kind of disarray that made Lucien’s chest ache.

He hadn’t been here in months. But after that dreaded solstice where his mate kissed another and Feyre’s pregnancy where he was treated like a threat to someone he used to call a friend…he hadn’t known where else to go.

But now, his boots crunched across the gravel path that led to the manor, and he felt like a ghost in his own memory. The manor loomed in front of him, sunlit and crumbling around the edges, just like the male inside it.

Lucien swallowed hard and knocked. The door creaked as it opened on its own, and he tentatively stepped through the threshold. His steps echoed on the marble floors. His eyes roamed over the interior. Furniture destroyed, the wooden pieces scattered. Dust covered every surface and flew about the room. And the smell—Cauldron the smell—lead Lucien to believe Tamlin must be bringing his prey back here and leaving the carcass…somewhere.

Lucien was about to open a window or two when he heard the familiar tapping of claws against the floor.

“You have some nerve,” Tamlin growled. Even his beast form had seen better days. Dried blood covered his maw and his golden fur was matted.

Lucien didn’t flinch. He met Tamlin’s sharp green eyes and said, voice soft, “I know.”

“Do you?” Tamlin stalked the rest of the way into the room. “You disappeared. Left when everything was crumbling. When I was crumbling. You didn’t even say goodbye.”

Lucien looked away, jaw tightening. “I didn’t know how to face you.”

“Because of Elain?” Tamlin sneered. “Or because you abandoned your court?”

Lucien’s throat bobbed. “Because I abandoned you.”

Tamlin reared back like he had been slapped.

The tension crackled between, years of history unspoken. Lucien clenched his fists at his sides, then stepped closer. “I came back because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About you. I miss what we had—what we were before everything fell apart.”

Tamlin laughed, bitter and low. “What we had? You mean the friendship you walked away from? Or the thing you never let yourself name?”

Lucien’s voice cracked. “It had a name to me. I was just too much of a coward to say it to your face.”

Tamlin stared at him, chest heaving. “You think you can just show up and expect forgiveness?”

“No.” Lucien dropped to one knee, head bowed. “But I’ll ask anyway. I’ll beg if I have to. I failed you, Tamlin. I left when I should’ve stayed. I was selfish and afraid, and Mother help me, I regret it every day.”

Silence stretched like a chasm between them. Then there was a flash of light.

Tamlin knelt too, one hand cupping Lucien’s jaw, forcing his head up. There was pain in his eyes. Longing. The kind of grief that never quite heals. Lucien couldn’t help but notice his golden hair was longer than he remembered.

“I wasn’t perfect either,” Tamlin murmured. “I pushed you away. Let the rage win. Said things I didn’t mean.”

“You meant some of them,” Lucien said, a rueful smile curling his lips.

Tamlin huffed a laugh, eyes glinting. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Lucien’s fingers found the edge of Tamlin’s wrist, tentative. “But I never stopped loving you. Even when it hurt. Even when you hated me.”

The hand on his face tightened. Tamlin leaned in slowly like he didn’t trust the moment. Like he expected it to vanish.

Lucien didn’t let it.

He surged forward, lips meeting Tamlin’s in a kiss that was all rage and sorrow and grief. Tamlin responded with a low sound, hands tangling in Lucien’s red hair, gripping him like he might disappear.

They kissed like it was the first time. Like it was the last. Like all the pain they’d carried could finally be set down.

When they pulled apart, foreheads pressed together, Tamlin whispered, “Leave me again at your own peril.”

Lucien breathed, “Not unless you make me.”

The Spring Storm

Tamlin week 2025 prompt for Day Two|Dark Spring

@tamlinweek

What if after that you spent decades trying to bring my decying, lifeless body home, while with every year, my last wish doesn't just become a promise to your brother- it becomes an obsession. Your eyes slowly become darker and stop reflecting what you see; they only see one goal anymore, Earth. What if every roadblock becomes a mortal enemy to you as you try to bring the pile of bones, the ones that used to contain my soul, back- they're stripped of their flesh because you had nothing to eat on one of those long, Europa days when you were stranded from the rest of your brothers in arms. In fact, what if those brothers slowly began looking at you differently, and you know they're talking through their suits about something, but they're not including you. You can tell they're afraid of you, afraid after that night where they dug you out of the snow to see you gnawing on my skeleton, the remains of my moldy flesh scattered on the floor around you and spattered on your face. You didn't mind. Everything was for me, after all. So what if the others minded? You only had to finish the war to get back; you only had to defeat everyone else. You had to hurt the people who had taken me away. And as your good memories of me faded, they became the scraps of life you clung to, because you no longer had anything else. Your brothers never understood why if was so important to you to get me back to Earth, never understood that it wasn't because of my last wish anymore, it was because everything else around you had faded into static and your only peace would be found from burying me in my native land. You weren't even sure what you would do after, but you didn't think about that, all you had to do was keep on putting one foot in front of the other; keep killing one person after another. And what if, as the faces blurred together, you accidently killed your family? Your pack, that had traveled along with you, now lay silent among the pink-stained ice and snow? Well, you were fighting a war. Casualties were bound to happen. It wasn't even really your fault, was it- they were holding you back, trying to make you see that you were slowly dying from some disease you contracted after eating my flesh. But you knew, of course, that that wasn't true. They were only trying to keep you from returning with your brother to Earth, to stay there forevermore. If they were right? You didn't care. You trudged on, through snow and ice and sleet and bullets and guns and fighting and death, even though you were getting slower with every step, you kept walking. And what if, in the end, you looked around and saw that not even my bones were there anymore; your soul was now lost somewhere in the rubble. What if you looked up and thought you saw a glimpse of blue and green, somewhere out there, and felt your heart stop, there amongst the snow.

What if, later, your body was found and brought back to Earth, and I was finally able to rest happily?

What if that's when it ends?

What if it goes on forever?

what if we were brothers in arms in the war torn landscape of europa and i held your bleeding wound as the blood stained the endless, blinding white tundra, your bated breath asking me to bury you back home and our last memory together was looking up to the swirling rings of color on jupiter. what then.

It might be an obsession guys...

Me every month or so

Emerie of Illyria