Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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@valkyrshe
DIRECTORY .
𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 .
𝐝𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫 .
𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 .
𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 - 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐨 .
WHERE TO FIND ME .
𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐭𝐦 :@darephi / @starsbore / @tricktress / @serpentlike / @wistcrias / @deldrago
𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 : https://www.pinterest.com/wistcrias/boards/
𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 : @pikefoot
𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 : @princessnicasia
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒:
Gwyneth Berdara (A Court of Thorns and Roses)
- The cold of the waves
MADELINE FORD
Gwyneth Berdara
Valkyrie || “Our stories are worth telling”
I am the rock against which the surf crashes.
Nothing can break me.
“I have been broken once before,” Gwyn said, her voice clear. “I survived it. And I will not be broken again—not even by this mountain.“
A COURT OF SILVER FLAMES
SHE WAS SUNLIGHT ON A WARM SEA –– ii.
The Valkyrie and The Spymaster ❀ Carynthians — ( art by @jemlin_c, go show some love! )
Gwyneth Berdara & Elain Archeron;
➥“Elain had always been gentle and sweet—and I had considered it a different sort of strength. A better strength. To look at the hardness of the world and choose, over and over, to love, to be kind. She had been always so full of light.”
“Gwyn whispered, “I am the rock against which the surf crashes.” Nesta straightened at the words, as if they were a prayer and a summons. Gwyn lifted the blade. “Nothing can break me.”
@nyktous
𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐎𝐅𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 .
@valkyrshe said: ❛ i love you. i know that’s not enough, but i do. ❜
░▒▌╳▐ ʀ ʜ ʏ s ᴀ ɴ ᴅ
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 Rhys questioned the wisdom of the Cauldron is still all too fresh in his mind, despite of the centuries that transpired. He was still a boy of eight then, only days prior to leaving for tIllyria with his mother—Even at that tender age, he was too smart and OBSERVANT for his own good; one of the few lessons the former High Lord got to impart in him before departing to his training. ❛ You can learn more about others by staying silent and letting them talk. Fools will tell the truth all on their own and the smart ones will hide behind their stupidity. You have to be keen of eye to discern the difference, boy. Unless you want to end up a fool yourself. ❜
His CONTEMPT for his father doesn’t let him forget the male he grew up trying to be the OPPOSITE of. That decision took root in his youthful mind that night he heard his parents argue and how as a result, his mother seemed to shrink back—Her warmth and simmering fire was EXTINGUISHED the following days. She would elude his father’s gaze, violet eyes like his own, having turned dismissive and COLDER than the snowcapped illyrian mountains to his own mate. Even when living in the war-camp, there were glimpses of that effect his father had on his mother, and how he DESPISED the male for that.
And now, over five centuries later, Rhysand finds himself doing the same again—Wondering how the Cauldron or the Mother, or whatever force of FATE or nature that’s responsible for the mate bond, chooses to unite them. Feyre, who is in that very moment asleep in one of the rooms of the Mountain Palace, is the mate chosen for him by that mysterious force—But as of late, he wishes it weren’t so. Only because it would make these blooming sentiments for ANOTHER far easier to accept and succumb to. Another, who happens to be confessing the words that have remained unspoken between them, until that instant.
❝ Gwyn… ❞ It BREAKS his heart to hear the rest of the bittersweet truth and it ANGERS him to know there is no denying it. His own parents didn’t seem to be able of refusing the call of that mate bond regardless of their obvious discontent with each other. If finding a way to undo the bond fails, then how can he hope to wholly dismiss the connection with Feyre? The priestess knows this much, and how devastatingly UNFAIR it is. ❝ You are—You’re more than enough. ❞ Rhys assures because she is. Gwyn is beautiful, kind despite the TRAGEDY she’s known, stronger in ways he cannot ever be; and it’s why she deserves so much more than the half-devotion he can give her. She’s never forced him to try and decide, accepting graciously whatever part of himself the male gives her—But the more that goes on, the greater the sense of SELF-LOATHING.
❝ You’re suffering, and it’s all my fault. I know you forgive me because you understand but I can't—I can’t forgive myself for hurting you in any way. ❞ Voice is careful even though the EMOTION seeps into the tone uninvited, and it was impossible to not see it glinting in the silver edges of star-flecked violet eyes. Even if Feyre denies him and their bond, it will still be there for the rest of their very long lives… He can’t place Gwyn in a position that will make her accept that for him. Turning, he begins to walk away to the balcony overlooking the rest of Velaris, strong arms spreading as both hands perch themselves on the railing and his head hangs low. Letting out a long breath, the male speaks in a more collected voice, easier to regain a hold of that CONTROL he’s nearly mastered after several decades of practice.
❝ I offered her to work for my Court today, and I don’t know if she’ll accept it or not, but I had to do something. She was… ❞ Rhys shakes his head, not finishing that sentence but instead straightens his back, wings nowhere to be seen while half-turning towards her again. The copper in her hair was dark in the dimmer light but her skin was almost glowing like moonstone, and the urge to TOUCH her was too swiftly rising to try and hold back. What a damn mess this is, to have his mind set on stopping whatever is going on between them but his heart is BEGGING him to relent. ❝ If she stays… I don’t know what will happen. ❞ The High Lord slowly walks to the female again but is sure to leave some distance, if only to stop himself from reaching out. ❝ What I do know is that you make me feel, Gwyn, unlike anyone before. ❞ Even her, he was tempted to add, but to do so is to grant her HOPE that might end up disappointing and further hurting her in the end. ❝ But we do know that’s all I could give you, and you deserve to be loved fully and unconditionally by someone who’s free to do so. ❞
𝐆𝐖𝐘𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐄. the moment she decided she was finally going to say something, she knew it would be a risk. that it would take all her courage to do so. that it might... no, that it would surely mean rejection. but the truth demanded to be spoken, and she was exhausted. exhausted having to tiptoe around what must shine in her eyes. what others must see when they look at her looking at him. how the other priestess’ must pity poor gwyneth for loving their high lord in ways no one but his mate should. still –– she had to try even if it broke her heart in the process. and it does –– her heart shatters again and again when he walks away. every step he takes away from her after the admission steals the breath from her chest. its all she can do to keep standing straight.
she breathes out hard. her eyes turn steely as she follows, standing back to give him space she thinks he needs. she lets him speak, but her own thoughts grow, and they grow loudly. oh, but rhysand is so quick to blame himself for this when it is no one’s fault but her own. stubborness runs true in the both of them –– she cannot stop herself from feeling how she does, and he cannot stop blaming himself for wrongs he did not commit. it makes her love him even more.
when rhys turns to face her, she has swallowed the words again. all gwyn can hear now are his words and the thumping of her heart, treacherous and fast. she wishes to say she doesn’t understand, but that would be a lie to them both. gwyn looks away, forces herself to tear her gaze from his handsome visage and to the starry sky of velaris. but all she can see are his eyes.
not for the first time, she longs for her sister. her guidance at a time like this. the loss of it –– what was taken from gwyn –– is a double-edged knife that remains lodged in her side. now as she questions how something as true as what she feels can pale in comparison to the white-hot flame of the bond, she longs –– no needs her sister. needs someone to clear her muddled mind. still, it remains muddled. the only clarity comes from her feelings. in knowing that they are real. and still... not enough.
❝ I understand, ❞ she responds, and when gwyn turns her face back to rhys, she wears a smile. a sad one, yes, but still a true one. ❝ I would never forgive myself for holding you back. ❞ moving past him, every part of her holds its breath, exhaling with harsh disappointment once she’s stood at the balcony, facing away from rhys. ❝ I just... I had to say something before I... before I regretted it. ❞ but what now? what now? a treacherous tear slips down her cheek, landing with a splat on the marble. ❝ I suppose... I won’t be seeing you anymore... –– will I...? ❞
MODERN GWYN INSTAGRAM EDIT .
anne sexton // richard siken// margaret atwood // virginia woolf
@thehighlordofnight
memes for that specific brand of ships
SOFTER: “ stop doing that— stop trying to hide your emotions from me. ” “ i can’t make you trust me. but i’m gonna stick around long enough for you to realize you can. ” “ not everyone is just gonna become another scar. some people will stay, if you let them. ” “ i feel like i’ve been living in a storm for so long, like i’m just drifting from wave or wave hoping i won’t drown. ” “ what happened to you? what made you so scared to stay still long enough to let someone in? ” “ i don’t wanna be scared anymore. ” “ even when you smile, your eyes are still sad. ” “ you’re safe with me. you can let go. breathe. ” “ i just want to belong somewhere again. or to someone, i guess. ” “ the thing about never having a home, is you don’t know what to do when you’re finally given one. you just feel like you’re waiting for something to take it away again. ” “ would you just sit still? you’re gonna get an infection if you don’t let me clean this up. ” “ i’m not gonna hurt you. i’m just here to help. ” “ close your eyes. go back to sleep. nothing can hurt you while i’m here. ” “ you looked so peaceful while you were sleeping…i couldn’t bring myself to wake you up. ” “ why do you trust me? ” “ don’t do that— don’t shut down on me. let me in. ” “ you were talking in your sleep again. i’m starting to think they’re memories and not just dreams. ” “ i’m not used to letting people close. i don’t like being vulnerable— but i want to, with you. i want to let you in. ” “ how did you get this scar? ” “ i don’t always need you to fix everything. i just— sometimes i just want you to listen. ” “ you’re so beautiful when you laugh. i wish i could see it more, but maybe it’s the rarity of it that makes it so captivating. ”
DARKER: “ every time i touch you, there’s a moment where you look like you think it will hurt. ” “ why aren’t you scared of me? ” “ you’d accept a caress from the same hands that leave you bruised, just to feel warm. ” “ i’ll kill anyone that makes you hurt like that again. i’d kill them just for taking your smile. ” “ i want to keep you all to myself. i don’t want anyone but us to know the things we do in secret. ” “ you’re mine now. and i won’t let anyone take you from me. ” “ would you kill for me? ” “ i’d cut my heart out and place it in your hands if it would prove my devotion to you. ” “ you love me so fiercely. i’m almost afraid of it. ” “ i know if anyone hurt me, you’d never let them see another day. and i think i like that a little too much. ” “ i know you’re dangerous, but i also know you won’t hurt me. you bark, and you growl, but you never bite. not me, at least. ” “ who hurt you? who made you so sad and lonely? tell me so i can make them pay. ” “ i don’t like the way they look at you. perhaps i’ll cut their eyes out. ” “ “ they hurt me. now i want you to make it better. make them hurt too. ” “ if anyone lays even a single finger on you, i’ll cut it off and feed it to them. ” “ yes. i killed them— but i did it for you. ” “ i had to do it. no one gets to make you sad and get away with it. ” “ i told you, i’ll love you no matter what. i’ll wipe the blood off your skin. i’ll clean the dirt off your hands from every grave you dig. i don’t care if you’re a monster. ” “ you should be scared of me. i like that you’re not. ” “ don’t you know my love could destroy you? ” “ come, sit in my lap and tell me whose blood i should spill tonight. ”
@valkyrshe said: ❛ i want you inside me. ❜
░▒▌╳▐ ʀ ʜ ʏ s ᴀ ɴ ᴅ
𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓, once Gwyn stepped out of the library, the intimacy of their conversations would be dulled by the open air and space. A thought that too quickly was proven to be a mistake. Seeing her take that courageous leap of crossing the boundary, the REFUGE inside the mountain, fueled the sense of admiration that has so swiftly grown in the past months. From there, all hope of dismissing those FEELINGS flickering to life was eclipsed by their increasing, burning intensity. Selfish, so selfish—Letting her move close, touching her, teasing and provoking just so he could witness that smile. It was nearly impossible to not let his mind wander, to think of all the ways he could coax out more, even use the wings that she’s such a big fan of. And the priestess herself made it so damn HARD to tame his imagination—Not even the unrequited mate bond to another female seemed to smother it.
❝ Well, someone’s being greedy, ❞ he murmurs. Their lips were parted, barely an inch keeping them from brushing but their warm and uneven breaths merged. How he ACHED to become one just like that with her—The evidence of that hunger hard and throbbing in his suddenly very tight pants. Gwyneth could feel it, and despite the blush coloring her cheeks in that lovely flush, there was CONFIDENCE when she spoke those words. Rhys himself has no doubts of his own desire, not even that part of him that refused to take what he was UNDESERVING of, could deny it any longer. The question of whether he truly was ready to oblige by it, however; was pushed down before it could really have a chance to stay. But it still so stubbornly whispered the warning, the reminder of what she’s endured, and it was too soon to succumb.
Bending lower, his mouth moved to the edge of hers, lips caressing the skin while trailing towards her ear as a hand deftly maneuvered to slip inside her pants. Thumb traced soothing circles under her bellybutton, down to her navel and then halting. Teeth grazed the lobe as he almost purred, the feline smile lacing his tone with the promise of MISCHIEF. ❝ I’ve thought about how it would feel like, you know… ❞ A seduction and a distraction both—To give her some satiation that might be enough to quench that need he can SCENT from her, without having to go too far. At least, for now. The hand resumed its venture until calloused fingers touched that wet flesh that sent shooting HEAT down his spine. A shuddering breath escaped along with the traitorous twitch of his length.
❝ Imagined how ready you were for me, how you’d breathe out when I did this… ❞ Smoothly, the male inserts a finger between those folds, being welcomed by slick and snug warmth. A low curse falls from his lips at the contact, eyes fluttering close for a moment as his mouth presses to her neck—Inhaling that scent that reminds him of the sea. Rhysand wouldn’t mind DROWNING right now. The finger curled lightly before pulling back halfway, only to move in deeper, tantalizingly slow just so he can bask in how she feels. ❝ But you feel—You feel even better, Gwyn… ❞
𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐒𝐊 –– to finally allow rhysand to take to the skies with gwyn in hand. nervousness had floated in her stomach all the way up to the flight itself, but once she’d been in the air with him... it all faded away. all gwyn could think was how wonderful it was to be outside again. and how free she felt, even if rhys was all that stood between her and a thousand foot drop to the ground. she’d laughed wildly then, tightening her leather-clad legs around him so that she could tilt herself back against the wind. she trusted him to hold her aloft. she trusted him to keep her safe. she trusted him –– period.
and then they’d arrived –– too shortly later, in her opinion –– and some time later, she somehow found herself perched on his lap, unable to keep herself from admitting what she wanted more than anything in that moment. “ you told me not deny myself asking for anything from you. this is me asking. politely, of course. ” a smile, as her front teeth bite down on her lower lip, teal eyes darkened with wanting. she glances down at his mouth and can’t help the clench between her legs.
but before gwyn can lean in to prove that she can be even greedier, his words register, and all coherent thought scatters. his length –– a hardness that is both intimidating and exciting all at once –– sits firmly beneath her, and in that moment –– she could have sworn she’d felt it twitch. ❝ rhys, ❞ she breathes, looking wrecked by the very thought. he is everywhere now. and when his lips brace against her neck, eliciting terrible shivers that run the length of her spine, and his hand finds the wetness between her legs, she can’t help the shaky breath that escapes. cannot help the restless rock of her hips above his. rhys moves slow so as to not to hurt her, gwyneth knows this in her heart, but for now it’s unnecessary. nothing hurts –– his finger is larger than all her own, but it feels so right inside her. the way he caresses her... it blankets her mind in open-mouthed pleasure.
she swallows, all words failing as gwyn reaches up to cup the back of rhys’ neck. guiding his face up, what she sees there has gooseflesh rising in waves down her body. darkness –– and so many stars, twinkling like pinpricks of silver light. she can’t help the smile that rises, the glow that erupts within her. ❝ tell me what you feel. I want to hear it all. I want everything you can give me. ❞
@valkyrshe said: ❛ i want you. and the thought of anyone else having you is like a knife twist in my soul. ❜
░▒▌╳▐ ʀ ʜ ʏ s ᴀ ɴ ᴅ
𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒. 𝐒𝐎 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒. The line was being blurred with every seemingly innocent, flirtatious exchange between the High Lord and priestess. At first, it was only meant as a banter to lighten the conversation whenever it edged on turning SOMBER, diverting her before she could get a GLIMPSE inside. What he did not expect was how she responded—Color blushing those cheeks but not holding her back from returning his playful and mischievous little comments with her own. It wasn’t long until Rhys found himself LONGING for their time together. To visit the library not only to continue researching the bond, or to find solace, but to see HER. The truth one day fell from his lips in a moment of weariness, the struggle and conflict gnawing; of DENYING what was the instinctive ache of that unreciprocated mate bond. Gwyn became the third person ( after Mor and Amren ) to learn of who exactly Feyre is to him, and why he is so silently DESPERATE to undo it—To FREE her of being shackled to someone like him against her will.
The male can’t quite remember just when it all changed but right then, as she confesses those words, he knows they’re standing on a dangerous THRESHOLD. They’ve both suffered in too similar ways and have found some kind of understanding, despite of how Rhysand has barely allowed her to see those SHADOWS of pain—But she has seen them, nonetheless. It’s as though Gwyn can sweep them away just enough to peek through with a spell of her smile, her voice. That part of him that insists on unworthiness and self-loathing wonders if that’s the only reason why she can make him forget, if only for a while. Make his mind finally push away the memories of those decades, and the pull of that bond, but… Oh, he can only lie to himself for so long, and now is the moment when truth slams into him MERCILESSLY.
The High Lord went utterly STILL the instant she gives voice to her feelings, violet eyes unreadable as they line with silver, not meeting her teal gaze. They were so close on the settee that her breath trickled over the exposed skin of his neck and despite that preternatural stillness, his own breathing was uneven. It’s only when one of his hands shifts that he begins to turn fully towards the priestess, fingers almost HESITANT in their slow touch above her own. A long breath leaves flared nostrils and finally, their gazes meet.
❝ I don’t want you to hurt because of me, Gwyn, ❞ Rhys begins. ❝ Wanting me—Being with me… ❞ The words hang, knowing she will understand the rest of what was left unsaid. He’s the Lord of Night, cruel and unforgiving as the darkness that ripples from him, having others tremble in his very presence. The MASK he chooses to wear to shield his people and those he loves most. Wanting him is to hurt—Not only because his very BEING is compelled to need another female, but because what returned from Under the Mountain was a ghost. It’s what she’s seeing now, with that layer of arrogance gone, baring before her the swirling darkness that visits his sleep and plagues him with NIGHTMARES. ❝ I don’t deserve someone like you. ❞ No, he doesn’t, and the male doubts that breaking the mate bond to Feyre would change that. Regardless of how his heart, his very soul, burns to lean in and kiss her.
𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆. gwyn knows this and yet still couldn’t help herself. her heart is a traitorous thing, capable of betraying both reason and logic. and now that she’d said it, there was no going back –– rhysand knows exactly how she feels, and while she’d felt relief in the moment, now nothing but dread has her frozen –– and beneath it all, the slightest sliver of oh, so foolish hope. she waits, it feels, an hour before he says anything. I don’t want you–– he says and something inside her fractures. but then he continues and it’s both better and worse. gwyn frowns, but he’s not done yet. he goes on, says he doesn’t deserve someone like her. whatever that means, though she may be able to guess. in the same way she’d had a shuttered understanding of his character –– and still does, having only ever seen him within the walls of the library –– the same can be said about the way he sees her. but something inside him calls to her, and it does so for a reason. whatever darkness lingers inside him, it lingers inside her too, and she’s not scared of it. not even close.
she almost forgets the hand on hers until she shifts and feels his fingers there, a blast of longing blowing through her. ❝ I didn’t... expect anything from you, ❞ she breathes. stupid, stupid, stupid, she feels. her eyes meet his again, the silver in his as striking as lightning in a violet sky. she takes in a bracing breath. ❝ I’m not so foolish to think that you could return my feelings. I’m aware that I’m young, and inexperienced, and... ❞ not the cursebreaker? she smiles softly, for she feels nothing but admiration for feyre archeron. ❝ not... her. I never expected reciprocation and you are completely free of obligation to me. I just wanted you to know. just in case it... made a difference. ❞
and maybe she’d dared to hope... even if rhysand hadn’t felt it, she could have sworn there was something there. still, even if there was, naturally it paled to whatever he felt for feyre archeron. how could she ever dream to compete? it was better to give in now. better to spare herself the heartbreak. yes, better to do that.
but how could she, when he was so close? when all he cared about was hurting her? when she cared so little about any of that, sitting next to him here, feeling like the rest of the world was so far away. gwyn blinks, and suddenly remembers how close she is to rhys, kneeling here beside him, his face only some inches away. ❝ for what it’s worth, ❞ she whispers like it’s a secret, ❝ I might not look like much, but I’m made of steel. ❞ I am the rock against which the shore crashes. nothing can break me. not even you, rhys. ❝ you could never hurt me, ❞ gwyn murmurs, her lips only a hair’s breath away from his.
Y2K!GWYN
small sex-related headcanon that woke me up today –– while sex with a new partner is challenging for gwyn regardless of who the partner is, I was thinking that for her, there are two things that are especially triggering. these two things are the missionary position and having a man’s weight on her –– they usually go hand in hand, which is to say that it’s not necessarily the missionary position itself that triggers her, but the feeling of helplessness that could potentially come from then having a man’s weight on her. it’s safe to say it could easily bring up some heavily repressed memories and emotions.
I also wanted to note that gwyn works hard to teach herself that what happened to her wasn’t sex –– it was r*pe, and that she isn’t triggered by sex itself, but by r*pe and things that remind her of what happened to her in sangravah. I’ve seen cognitive therapists emphasize the importance of making that distinction with survivors so that, if they want to, they are able to go on and have happy and safe sexual lifestyles. still, of course it’s going to be rough going because of many reasons I don’t feel comfortable spelling out here in case they trigger anyone.
as with a lot of different kinds of trauma, it’s hard to predict what will trigger someone. the best any partner of hers can do is just be patient and understanding through it all, which is the most she could ever ask of someone.
