#iihah

[whimsicallyreading]

I am reluctant to announce that I will be removing all of my fics until further notice. I didn’t come to this decision easily, but if you would like to know why, then I’ve given a full explanation down below

April foooooools 🥳

Couldn’t let the day go by without doing anything. I love you all so much. All of my love to anyone who cared 😂💜

[whimsicallyreading]

🌹🌹🌹!!!!!

Vikings for you?

Aelin setting those men ablaze was burned in his memory. The glow of the firelight against her blonde hair, the wildness in her eyes, she looking like a living flame personified. Rowan could see her being an asset in a fight, but for now, that wild woman laid limp and lifeless against his shoulder.

Thank you!!! 😉

[peyton-stone]

If I Had A Heart II Self II

Peyton sat in his car in the driveway of his parents’ house in Ariadne. He peered up into the rearview only to catch a tired man staring back at him. There were more calls than usual at the station from every parent yapping into his ear about their kids’ traumatic experience at the Castello bachelor pad. By the eighth call, Peyton had pushed a rookie to answer the calls while he escaped for a temporary haven. The man didn’t know why exactly he had to go visit his folks, but with the severity of the incidents he knew that his father had to head into the station and provide a statement to the journal and all citizens.

Finally sliding out of his SUV, Peyton sauntered up the familiar steps and used his old home key to enter the place. He headed straight for the kitchen, wanting nothing more than to drink some alcohol, but reaching for the coffee pot instead to get some caffeine pumping through his veins. The sound of creaky steps reached his ears, but the man kept his back faced away and took more sips of the scalding beverage. 

“Peyton…it’s so late. Why are you here?”

He turned to face his mother who was wiping the dust from her eyes. “Dad needs to come into the office and make a bunch of statements about the Castello Party.” His voice was monotone, but his eyes held resentment and bitterness at the woman he rarely called his mother. Harper bit her bottom lip; fiddling with her sleeping robe band, as she couldn’t stand the harsh look her own son gave her. She took a seat at the island, placing her hands on the cold granite countertop before speaking once more, “Did you get a call?” 

Peyton shook his head while taking another sip, “Nope. I saw and waited. Kept ignoring the noise complaint calls.” Harper gave a silent nod listening as her son talked. She wanted to give him some words of encouragement, to be hopeful and keep going, but those talks only delayed the cynicism that crept into his heart like a slow acting poison. “Pey, I’m sor—“

His eyes flared up hearing the trademark sorry slip out from the cracks of his mother’s mouth before slamming the coffee cup down on the counter. “Shut up! I don’t want to hear those fucking words from you!” He ran his fingers through his soft curls tirelessly. “Sorry doesn’t change this shit. Everything still keeps going like a ticking clock.” He strolled over to his mother, and kneeled until they were eye level. “What was it that you used to tell me…Pray to the winds? What bullshit!" 

Taking the half empty cup of coffee, Peyton chugged of the liquid down his throat before wiping his mouth with the cuff of his sleeve. “Tell Dad to get to the station,” he said while taking his leave. There were places to be and people that needed to yell into his ear.

You can’t delay the inevitable.