#[artwork] You rarely see them.

[deva-arts]

Testing out CSP Assets hehehe

The city can be pretty beautiful with enough distance and a nice view.

Oh. I forgot what kind of story this was.

She ends up short circuiting the main terminals and letting it crash into a processing facility. Then she takes a stress nap and worsens her insomnia.

[thehaddonfieldboogeyman]

"Can't you hear them?"

Ask + Roleplay Blog

Alternate Universe Variant of the Shape, Dead by Daylight

General:

Follows Dead by Daylight lore, though with its own canon elements. Related closely to the original.

SFW blog, mun is 18+. While there will be elements of canon-typical violence and gore, there will be no excessive gore nor suggestive content.

LGBTQ+ friendly, and any bigoted, racist, or otherwise problematic content will not be tolerated.

No shipping with muse is preferable, and any attempts will be steered away from.

Writing will be semi-lit, literate, or novella length.

Takes interactions with anyone including OC, AU, RP, Ask, and text, though Dead by Daylight oriented blogs are especially encouraged.

Muse Information:

"The Shape", also known as "Myers" or the "Haddonfield Boogeyman"

They/He

5'07", wearing the signature mask and mechanics jumpsuit. Both are well worn and show signs of wear and tear from time. The jumpsuit is ill-fitting, with fabric kept pinned and sewn in place to keep from being too long.

Alternate version of the Shape, while keeping usual canon-typical elements it can be noted that they aren’t quite the same. It’s been noted this certainly isn’t the first Shape, and this is the one that has taken his place.

Mun Information:

Firebug/Red

He/They

18+

Socials are FirebugFrenzical on tumblr and Discord. All likes and follows will be from FirebugFrenzical.

[vi-steponmeplease]

ˋ°•*⁀➷ loser!gf ellie

synopsis: just some random headcanons about what it'd be like to date loser ellie who's js so obsessed with you.

notes: never made any headcanon posts before, so don't mind the setup lmao i have no clue what i'm doing

tw: mostly fluff but there are some smutty hcs (oral — e!receiving)

✧₊⁺ to begin with, ellie defo prefers cozy 'netflix n chill' date nights over dressing up for fancy dinners.

✧₊⁺ cuddling up on the couch with you is something that never fails to make her heart swell, no matter how long you’ve been together.

✧₊⁺ but mostly because it gives her a chance to imagine what domestic life with you might be like—though she’d never admit it, afraid it might seem like she’s moving too fast.

✧₊⁺ she’s a sucker for resting her head on your chest while you thread your fingers through her hair, gently massaging her scalp as the two of you watch some cringey movie you’ll inevitably fall asleep to halfway through.

✧₊⁺ on the rare nights you don’t doze off, ellie grabs her brown acoustic guitar adorned with spongebob stickers and serenades you with a gentle melody while you rest your head on her shoulder.

✧₊⁺ when you’re out with friends, ellie—being the absolute dork she is—seizes the opportunity to practice tricks on her scratched-up skateboard, determined to one day impress you with her skills (even though she can barely land a kickflip without bruising herself)

✧₊⁺ when she eventually heads home with fresh scratches and deep purple bruises on her arms and knees, she does her best to patch herself up and cover them with makeup, hoping you won’t notice.

✧₊⁺ walking around town with ellie is always chaotic, as she can’t help but scream with excitement at the sight of every cat she sees.

✧₊⁺ bonus points if she’s eating chips—she’ll immediately tear open the bag and try to feed the poor animal junk food, no matter how much you explain it’s unhealthy. she just wants the cat to be happy and fed.

✧₊⁺ speaking of cats, she's defo the type to snap 0.5 pictures from every angle, proudly maintaining an entire folder dedicated to her feline encounters.

✧₊⁺ you got her a dino necklace for her birthday, and she’s never taken it off since.

✧₊⁺ ellie also has a whole mini-figure collection of the reptile and loves sending you pictures of two dinos kissing, always captioning them with: us!!

✧₊⁺ this girl lets nothing—absolutely nothing—distract her from a videogame. but the moment you so much as call her name, she’s running to you like a stray dog that just found its owner.

✧₊⁺ sometimes, you sit on her lap as she plays, watching her screen and asking the silliest questions. she always answers with a smile and a soft kiss on your cheek.

"what about there? would you die if you went inside that room?" you ask, your arms draped around her neck as you tilt your head to get a better view of her game.

she chuckles softly, pressing her lips to your jaw before fiddling with the joysticks. "judging by the fact that it’s pitch dark in there, i’d say… probably, yeah."

✧₊⁺ the room eventually falls silent, her focus fully locked on the game. but when she glances down a few moments later, she finds you fast asleep, your head resting on her shoulder, and she can’t help but smile.

✧₊⁺ you’ve never seen a room as messy yet effortlessly aesthetic as ellie’s. somehow, the clutter only adds to her charm and uniqueness.

✧₊⁺ sometimes, as you sit on her bed scrolling through your phone in comfortable silence, ellie sketches little drawings of you.

✧₊⁺ by now, her sketchbook is filled with portraits of you—you’ve become her muse.

✧₊⁺ she used to get shy about showing you her artwork, hesitating before every reveal. but after seeing your excitement over one piece, she proudly gave you a full tour of her sketchbook, secretly basking in the joy of being the reason behind that pretty smile of yours.

✧₊⁺ one time, ellie asked you to press your lipstick-stained lips onto a piece of paper, saying she wanted to create something abstract.

✧₊⁺ that moment quickly escalated into her kissing you with urgency, her lips trailing heated breaths down your neck and collarbone. before you knew it, you were lying on your back, clothes discarded on the floor, as she devoured you like a prisoner savoring a last meal.

✧₊⁺ ellie had never tasted pussy before, but she didn’t need any frame of reference. she’ll always insist yours is the best she could ever have.

✧₊⁺ she’s a soft dom, big on praise—even when you’re the one between her legs.

ellie’s head falls back against the wall, a low groan slipping from her lips as your tongue flicks against her clit. you wrap your lips around the sensitive bud, watching her face contort with pleasure.

“fuck, baby. just like that,” she grunts, her hand threading into your hair and tugging gently to bring you closer. “you’re doing so good.”

✧₊⁺ in the end, ellie is just a hopeless loser who’s madly in love with you and would do anything to make you happy.

[beloveds-embrace]

Hngg more poly 141 x roommate reader thoughts is:

When it comes to decorating, you are the boss. Not a single one of them dares to come between you and your Pinterest boards as you decorate each room.

Johnny might grumble about how “this place is startin’ to look like a bloody showroom” when you insist on fluffing throw pillows just right, but he’s the first to proudly point out your handiwork when guests come over.

Gaz is your shopping buddy, happily trailing behind you at home goods stores, pushing the cart while you debate between two sets of curtains that, to him, are identical. Shopping with you has made his eyes open up to so many new shades he didn’t even know existed.

Price rarely says much, but his approving nods and the way he quietly installs shelves or hangs up your chosen artwork without complaint tell you he doesn’t mind in the slightest. Always nods his head with a “yes, ma’am” that always makes you crack a smile.

Simon, of course, seems utterly uninterested. But the way his eyes linger on the new cozy rug you picked for the living room or how he spends more time in the kitchen now that you’ve added some homely touches- soft dimmable bulbs, a shelf for their personalized mugs, the seasonal towels, that one towel that had “kiss me and tell me I’m pretty” written on it, your little potted herb garden on the windowsill- there speaks louder than words.

Still, they do joke about your decorating “tyranny” but deep down, they love seeing the space slowly transform into someting that truly feels like a home.

[willowed-wisp]

ghost as a dad ( part two ) [ simon riley ]

part one | part three

- Definitely takes your eldest to base when she can walk small distances with him on occasion.

- He literally crouches down and holds her little hands. Her doe eyes wandering everywhere, a pinch of awe and a little bit of fear but when she looks at her dad she gains the courage to continue.

- Definitely calls her, ‘pumpkin’, ‘princess’, and other things that has uncle Soap like a puppy dog.

- Johnny is the only person he trusts with her on base- he is your kids’ god father, along with Simon’s brother, Tommy.

- When Simon notices her getting sluggish, “Come on, sweet pea,” holding her with caution as she has the nerve to bonk him on the nose when talking to his superiors, “what has mummy been teachin’ ya, huh?” Not mad at all, impressed even- she had an impressive right hook for such tiny hands.

- Her head shook, “Not mama, dada,” her finger pointed over to someone, “It was Soapy…” Simon had been on the verge of hysterical laughter but contained himself- remembering the encounter later that day. Even telling you over dinner.

- He has two personalities when your son is born, maybe it was because of his abusive childhood that drove him to leave home but he had a mental block after learning the baby was a boy.

- All of his worry melted away in the delivery room- Simon was the first to hold his baby boy. Something he’d missed with your daughter.

- He decided to be a better father figure to his son than his dad. The BEST father figure even if it fucking killed him.

- Simon’s mother was watching your little girl at home. It was the afternoon that you went into labour. 6 hours down the line it was over and you were hell bent on getting back home.

- Simon takes care of the nitty gritty for the first fortnight, while you get proper rest.

- He rarely sleeps while deployed so he’s used to taking the night shift on. Until your stubborn ass gets him to allow you to take it and that he doesn’t need to do that every night of the week.

- Simon gets his best sleep when your daughter crawls between you in the middle of the night.

- His heart breaks when he sees this little blonde haired figure swaddled in a fluffy blanket waddle through the door he leaves ajar for this exact reason. “What’s wrong, pumpkin?”

- She shuffles over to him, blanket falling at her feet as she jumps into his open arms, “Couldn’t sweep, dada,” Clung to him like a koala bear.

- He gives a gentle boop onto her nose, making her giggle, “Guess you’re gonna have to sleep ‘ere then…” Plopping her down in the middle and giving her one of his pillows.

- She’s such a deep sleeper- good when the baby cries but a nightmare trying to wake her up without getting kicked. She was her dad through and through. Down to the brown eyes, to the little mannerisms she has.

- When she starts nursery, Simon is on school duty. He loves making sure his little girl gets there safe and sound. Ditching the car parked near the packed nursery before walking hand in hand with his pumpkin.

- You wait in the car on the first day, with your boy in his car seat in the back of the Land Rover. In tears watching this 6’5” man crouching down to hold his four-year-old’s daughter’s hand.

- When he returned to the car, his hand at the back of your head dragging you into a breathtaking kiss. You were taken aback, “What was that for?” Said between laughs.

- Tears trapped in his gentle eyes, “You gave me the best kids,” your fingers brushed by his lips before he held them in his, “Thank you…”

- Definitely hangs whatever artwork your girl does on the fridge, praising her macaroni art pieces.

- Gets a call while on base, “Mr Riley?” He acknowledges it’s him. “Hiya, it’s the nursery… there’s been a situation. Y/D/N has gotten into a scuffle with one of the boys…”

- “Is she okay? She hurt?” He blurted out and did the maths on how quickly he could get to his daughter. Not caring how this looked to the other guys.

- “No, Y/D/N punched one of the boys in the face. They were picking on her, when’s the soonest you can pick her up?” He had to hold that laughter, reign it back in a cough.

- “I’ll be there in ten…” He hung up the phone, now giving a small chuckle.

- Price is the first to speak up, “What’s got you so happy, Riley?”

- “Y/D/N just punched a bully in the face…”

- Gaz raised a brow, “That’s a good thing?”

- “I’ve never so proud in my life…”

- He goes to the nursery, doing an act in front of the staff before they get to the car, “Don’t be mad at me, dada…” His heart crushed as she said that, as if he would ever be mad at her.

- “No more punchin’, okay? Call ‘em a prick instead, alright?” Then he turned to her fully. Fist outstretched to her, instead of bumping it she slapped his knuckles. He’d have to teach how to fist bump, “Don’t let people pick on ya… I’m always here…”

- The next day, you received a call. From the nursery… telling both you and Simon to come in.

- Simon carried your son, sound asleep on his dad’s arms. You could tell the staff were maybe a little intimidated by your husband. You were before you discovered he was such a kid under that tough exterior.

- His eyes softer than they had ever been looking at his children, “What’ve you done now, missy?” You studied her features, so much of you in her but that look was all Simon. Determined and a slight scowl, yeah that was Si alright.

- “Y/D/N called one of the other children, something beginning with ‘P’ and ending in ‘Rick’,” Something told you she had some influence from her father.

- He fist-bumped your daughter when you were walking back to the car. You’d have a word with Simon later that day but for that moment. To see him so at peace and her little smile… you wouldn’t spoil that for the world.

- When your son was four years old, you saw the difference with how Simon treated the pair. He instilled kindness in him, took him to football games with the members of 141.

- It affects Simon to be away from them during deployments but you’re the best mother to them. He couldn’t ask for a better partner.

- He lets the kids colour in his tattoos… a pink skull on his arm… green fire… they used sharpie/permanent markers. During deployment it breaks his heart to see the colours fade, he contemplates filling them back in but he says to himself, “Gotta get home so the kiddos can do it…”

————

taglist:

@thychuvaluswife @foxygirl-4287

[indecisivemuch]

Scandalous

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: The reveal of a scandalous detail about yours and Luke's relationship left you both flustered and everybody else gaping. Inspired by one line from So It Goes - Taylor Swift (fluff, established relationship).

Warning: allusions to sex, but no explicit details.

Word count: 2k

You and Luke have been going out for well over a year now. Yet, he never failed to make you feel like it would be an eternal honeymoon phase: whispers of sweet words about a lifetime’s worth of promises, delicate and sacred touches, looks filling in for unspoken words.

Loving Luke was as easy as having a daily routine - so natural and almost like a grounding thing from the life of a Demigod.

Currently, Luke was training with Percy. You were not too far away either, sparring with Clarisse. Despite the area being occupied by many other Demigods engaging in similar activities, Luke could not help but frequently glance over at you.

Luke has always been mesmerized by the way you combat, which he metaphorically compared to a ballerina. So precise, yet deadly. Every move was with intention and purpose. 

The way sweat glided down the side of your face, your cheeks flushed from fighting, eyes darting with strategy, heavy pants in between dodging and attacking your opponent, the smirk hinted on your face - all of it made Luke’s mind grow flustered. Somehow, he found everything you do attractive.

If he was honest, his mind seemed to be doing nothing lately but think of you, especially when you’re not beside him. The memories he has harvested over your time together only transformed his brain into a cinema, which constantly played montages of you. Every morning, he’d wake up from a dream about you to the sight of you in his arms - that is before he had to sneak out of your cabin back to his. You constantly occupy every cell in his mind, like an uncontainable virus spreading. Yet, for some reason, he was not scared. He welcomed this feeling with his whole arms wide open.

You broke eye contact with Clarisse to look at Luke. Almost instantly, your eyes melted into ones filled with adoration and his own eyes mirrored the same emotions - if not tenfold. 

You were absolutely enamored with how Luke looked at you. Even before dating each other, people have mentioned the eyes he was giving you. But being oblivious, you did not see what they were talking about. However, it all became clear when you started dating. You started noticing how he would look at you like you were a rare artwork he would most likely never see again or a shooting star - a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence kind of thing that left him in awe all the time. He would do it so endearingly as if it would help to absorb every detail of you and imprint them into his memory. His looks have always made you feel loved - like you were the only thing that mattered to him, as if he has not told you this verbally and through actions already. Usually, you’d feel slightly insecure if somebody was staring so intensely at you, but he did it in a way that made you feel like your flaws were created to be loved for. 

However, a gasp escaped your lips as Luke was showered by a wave of the ocean. Everybody else also drew their attention to the head of Hermes’ cabin and the newly claimed Poseidon kid.

When Luke looked back at Percy, he was faced with a sheepish grin.

“I had to get your attention somehow. I tried calling your name like ten times already,” Percy shrugged his shoulder with feigned innocence, but the glint of mischief told Luke that the kid was anything but feeling guilty about soaking him from head to toe. 

“Percy,” Luke groaned as he could feel the fabric of his clothes cling to his body. Percy bashfully chuckled and offered another sheepish look to the counselor who was meant to train him. 

The cool water did offer a temporary fix to the boiling summer heat. But mixing that with sweat, combat, and Luke's long-sleeved shirt underneath was disastrous. The Hermes boy sighed as he slowly took off the bright orange camp shirt. After struggling slightly, he managed to pull the shirt off from over his head. However, the gray shirt he was wearing underneath got pulled up more than slightly from the extra friction between wet fabrics, revealing the majority of his back to Percy and others. 

He did not think much of it until gasps - including yours - could be heard as this happened. Chris even whistled as he and everybody else spotted what Luke did not notice.

“What?” Luke asked as he pulled down his gray shirt and started wringing his camp t-shirt, trying to rid it from being as wet as possible. 

“Damn, did you get mauled by a minotaur or something?” Percy asked. 

Almost immediately, Luke paled at Percy’s words as he realized what the kid was talking about.

Indeed, as Luke’s gray shirt underneath got pulled up, which revealed the majority of his back, this had also put on display the scratches down his back left from nights that he spent with you. Some were evidently old and healing, as seen by how Luke’s skin was patching itself up and matching closer to his skin tone. Others were somewhat freshly red, while a few were like wounds being reopened. To make matters worse, they could spot the occasional crescent shape bruises that were indentations of your nails. 

Considering your guys’ relationship was not a secret, there was no room to deny it if somebody pointed fingers at you. You blushed as people now averted their eyes to you as if this was the most scandalous thing all year. Clarisse and Chris, on the other hand, were both smirking. 

The whole camp knew you were the one who left those scratches there, and you sincerely wish you could dig a hole to hide yourself from all the attention right now.

Luke’s eyes darted to you, and you offered him an awkward smile as your face grew a darker shade of red.

“No, seriously, dude, you gotta get it checked out at the infirmary. How did that even happen?” Percy only continued, somehow actually clueless about the cause of those marks. You could see Annabeth sending Percy a somewhat side-eye from nearby at his words while Grover let out a deep sigh. 

You started approaching the two, hoping you could intervene and save the both of you from this situation.

“Uhm…well,” Luke started, unsure how to even answer the kid or divert the attention elsewhere as his cheeks flushed and ears tinted pink from trying to ignore memories of what you two had done the night before.

The Hermes boy has jokingly sweet-talked you before on how he might walk out shirtless after one of your rendezvous to show off the marks you left on him. Never would you two think that that idea would ever happen like this.

“Yeah, I reckon you should get that checked out,” you decided to say as you reached Luke, settling your hand on Luke’s lower back and greeting Percy. “Thank you for worrying about him.”

“Yeah, no problem. I mean, it must have been quite a minotaur to land that much of a number on him,” Percy somehow carried on and was utterly oblivious to Clarisse and Chris, who almost bursted out laughing at his latest comment. You, on the other hand, squinted your eyes at the kid. You turned to Luke and you could see it in his eyes that the boy was on the verge of laughing as well. You were sure he would have done so if it were not for your glare.

“Well, we best go heal those wounds now, right Luke?” you gave your boyfriend a look, hoping he would get the message to play along.

“Right,” he agreed almost instantly. 

“Alright, bye, Percy,” you hastily spoke, before dragging Luke by his hand away from everybody's eyes.

“Bye guys,” you could hear the kid’s voice as the both of you retreated. It felt like a walk of shame as the semi-crowd parted ways for you two to leave the scene. You immediately let out a deep breath as soon as nobody was near anymore.

“Gods, that was so embarrassing. The kid basically repeatedly called me a minotaur.”

“I mean…you can be my minotaur?” Luke cheekily jested, trying to tease you a bit more over the situation.

“Oh, no, no, no, we’re not making that a thing. No, absolutely not are you ever gonna make that a nickname,” Luke only laughed at your reaction before wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you into a hug. As he did so, you wrapped both your arms around his waist, face colliding with his chest the way it would usually do when you guys cuddle. He gave you a few peppered kisses on your forehead, close to your hairline. 

“They’re never gonna let us live that down, will they?” You asked after letting out a muffled groan against his chest.

“Nope,” Luke admitted. Despite the Hermes boy usually easing away your worries, even he knew this would be the talk around camp for a while. Nevertheless, he unwrapped his arms around you and cupped your face with both hands. Using his callus-filled hands, yet gentle touch, he soothed your furrowed eyebrows by rubbing over them to urge you from scowling.

“But…you know what? I’m kind of glad this happened. Sure, it might be awkward and a tad bit embarrassing. But now, they finally get to see how lucky I am to have been given a chance by such a gorgeous and sweet Demigod. And…” he paused, giving you a quick kiss. “This way, any guy potentially still after you know to keep their hands off.” He cheekily winked at you after saying so. 

Gods, you remember how jealous Luke would get before you were together. It was lowkey hot to see him so riled up. Though, after the both of you got together, you have always reassured him that you had eyes on him and only him. 

“I guess that also means any girls still thinking they could steal you from me would know they have no chance?” you questioned, smiling ear to ear when he nodded eagerly at your words.

“Exactly. That’s a win-win in my book. I’m not embarrassed they saw what you left on me. They could talk for all I care. So stop worrying, or else you’ll start getting wrinkles,” he lightly flicked the area between your furrowed eyebrows. As you were about to complain, he quickly kissed you right where he previously flicked you, and that immediately melted away any bit of feigned irritation you had with him. He chuckled at the sight of your furrowed eyebrows untangling itself.

“Thank you,” you muttered, showing your gratitude towards Luke. 

If Luke had a superpower, it would probably be calming you down. He has always managed to tame your emotions whenever they were drowning you. He was like an anchor to you, always grounded you during chaotic times. Sometimes, you wonder how you got so lucky. 

You peered up at him sweetly, and the look alone made him lean down to capture your lips with his again. You chuckled at his action and kissed him back with just as much passion as he was leaving on your lips. Your hands started playing with the hair close to the nape of his neck. He let out a content sigh while still showing your lips just how much he loved them and you. However, he abruptly pulled away before dropping a question. 

“Are we really going to the infirmary?” Luke hesitantly asked, bringing up your words from earlier. He watched as you gave him an amused look.

“What did you think?” As soon as his eyes met yours, he knew exactly what you wanted. He gave you a sheepish grin before the two of you quietly giggled to each other before walking further away from the training grounds.

Let's just say you two did not follow through with your words of going to the infirmary, and neither were you tending to his “wounds”.

——————————

masterlist

Join my Luke Castellan tag list

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Malleus Draconia: Made Up

… Why does Malleus continue to have some of the most “hey are u lost bbg” facial expressions + poses ever on his initial birthday card artworks… 💀

He really looks like his mom when his hair is all pinned back like in his alt and Groovy look. xbjsbsjww The makeup products he’s using… They look like Giorgio Armani 💰

Rise and Shine!

Humans were blessed with two hands with which to do all of their work. Malleus Draconia had no need for either of his.

Lipstick, liquid eyeshadow, and finishing powder lifted into the air, glowing an eerie green. They uncapped and began applying themselves, gliding easily across his lips, painting his lids, and patting down his pale skin. Already, a cloth was busy polishing his horns, and a brush ran through his hair. A mirror, magically suspended before him, displayed his regal visage--a work of art slowly coming into its peak form.

You had heard Scarabia's vice dorm leader mention that he used magic to do his hair--a complex, precise process--but had never in your life witnessed a show like this. You clapped for Malleus, as if a spectator that had just seen a most wonderous trick.

He cut you a curious look. "May I ask why the applause, child of man?"

"It's just so cool seeing you use your magic," you replied truthfully. "There's so many things happening at once, it's hard to know where to keep my eyes. You're really amazing!"

There was a sound akin to a stifled chortle. These, you had grown accustomed to.

"You never cease to surprise. This is but a modicum of what I am capable of." He almost seemed to pout as he said it, as if itching to demonstrate the full extent of his powers. Wanting praise for something more.

"Oh, trust me. I know you are--but it's nice to see the Malleus Draconia using his magic to do normal, everyday stuff too." You grinned, ducking behind him to peek into his mirror. Your gazes met in the sparkling glass. "I wish everyone could see this."

"It is hardly a matter of importance to share the details of my morning routine with the masses. Besides, Grandmother would no doubt grant me a thorough scolding for allowing myself to be seen in such an improper state.”

He yawned, and a hand moved to cover his mouth, where you caught a glimpse of pointed canines. A rare moment of cuteness, of vulnerability. A side of himself kept private. Such a mundane thing--it reminded you that he, too, was but a student, preparing to tackle another day.

"Maybe not, but then again… maybe they'd see what I see too."

You quirked a brow. "And what is it that you see?"

"That you're not as scary as whatever scary made-up version of yourself they have in their heads. It's not all doom and gloom, wrath and lightning. You're someone that laughs and cries too."

"... Do they have that impression of me?" Malleus brought a hand to his chin. "Odd. When I last conversed with a peer of mine, they were so elated to be in my presence that they fainted on the spot. Lilia commended me for making such a strong impression on them."

"Erm... Lilia might not be the best judge for that." You poked at the corners of your mouth. "You have a nice smile, so how about showing it more? That might draw people to you."

"Hmmm. Like this, perhaps?"

He attempted to imitate you. The result was an awkward facsimile of your smile. Not quite the same curve, and with the tips of his fangs poking out. His eyes, still ominous.

Clumsy, but a little dangerous.

Your heart sprouted wings and fluttered. “It’s a good start! You’ll get the hang of it with more practice.”

Malleus sighed, and at once, the items that had been hovering around him collapsed along with his breath. “This is a conundrum. As a public figure and representative of my country, it’s imperative that I maintain my reputation.”

The fluttering in your chest settled like a stone sinking into the bottom of a lake. A sudden weight, a sadness, sitting in your stomach. He cut a gallant figure--but without the fairy lights and fire, he was but a pitiful creature trapped within stone walls.

Lonely and misunderstood.

Without a word, you slipped a hand into his. Malleus felt cold to the touch, like some long-forgotten relic dug up from some ruins.

His eyes shot wide open with alarm. "What are you..."

"Let's walk to class like this," you suggested softly. "I know you wouldn't harm me. If everyone else can see that... they'd understand, right?"

Shock flooded Malleus's face. Then, like a flash of lightning and a fleeting bellow of thunder, it was over, replaced by the faintest chuckle.

"... Very well." He squeezed your hand, the motion sending sparks of electricity through you. "I would not be opposed to this. If they are to weave tall tales, then all we must do is flip the script and write a story of our own to combat theirs."

[bonsiii-art]

*point out my water gun at you* this's a robbery ¯¯̿̿¯̿̿'̿̿̿̿̿̿̿'̿̿'̿̿̿̿̿'̿̿̿)͇̿̿)̿̿̿̿'̿̿̿̿̿̿\̵͇̿̿\=(⌐▀͡ʖ▀)=o/̵͇̿̿/'̿̿¯̿̿¯̿̿

I dmand all your cute Longan HCs or else.../j

Took a while to answer this one bc I wanted to illustrate some of my ideas! I thank you for asking me uwu

Has a natural, booming voice. Doesn't need to try at all to make themselves heard over a raging storm. Also, rarely blinks as part of their intimidation towards others. Towards someone they care about, Longan will naturally blink more and even make an effort to speak more softly to them.

Big thing in my artworks of them is that they're super tall compared to regular cookies. This, of course, gives them a larger stride when walking. They won't slow down, even for their precious weak one. Though, they'll look over their shoulder now and then to watch them struggle to keep up; it's amusing to them :P

DEF NOT THE PERFECT PARTNER. Even if they gain a companion, they'll still be fixated on their goals. If their weak one's interests lie in anything cookiekind-related, Longan will be completely tuned out of it. EVENTUALLY, they'll try to see what all the fuss is about. Just to learn and form their own opinions about it.

Something angsty- if their weak one is a normal cookie and not a dragon, their mortality will become a constant thought in Longan's mind. They'll get more and more attached over time but in turn, put up a stronger aloof front. They have the power to bring back the era of dragons, but they can't bring back a cookie once they're gone... ...unless they can preserve them in some way. cutely petrifies their beloved into stone.-

You know the two NPCs in one of the stages of the Longan Palace Map, Longan Shaman and Longan Lancer? I imagine they would be bit more friendlier towards their master's new partner. :> At least one of the two would be assigned to them to watch over them when Longan's busy. Which means plenty of time to get acquainted!

After looking at their sprites a lot when drawing, I believe that Longan is able to move the spines on their back freely, as those are the most flexible of their horn structure. TBH, I think Longan is almost freakishly flexible, overall. In addition to stretching in any position with ease like a cat, they can also turn their head almost 180 degrees, just for the added creepy effect.

More on the cat thing actually, Longan absolutely does the eye thing where their pupils get wide when they see something they like. Also, purring- *gets shoved off stage*-

Has a tail similar-looking to their dragon form's. They just like having it hidden under their robes, since it tends to show more of their emotional state than they like.

I've been drawing the ears on charas more often and I think that compared to the rest of the dragons, Longan's would be pointy but slightly on the droopy side.

[msflora-lynn]

Rating the fanbase of every Primarch & their legions.

This is my opinion, I love all of you ㅤ♡ྀི ₊

Lion'El Johnson & Dark Angels fans (8/10): I like the fanarts they make, also 100 points for portraying Lion like a rouge kitty cat sometimes. Oh I also like how the Lion fans are embracing the 'our primarch is obviously neurodivergent and we love him for it'

Fulgrim & E.Children fans (10/10): This part of the group always produce the best fanart?? Or at least a lot of artworks for E.Children in general. Though browsing his fanart must be done with caution cause 20% chance I might see schlongous or booty.

Perturabo & I.W fans (8/10): I'm sorry about your favorite character. Not many of them are around though :( But so far their fanart production have been solid. I like how they kinda just chill and embrace the 'neurodivergent manchild' persona for Bo and makes no attempt to refute it.

Jaghatai Khan & W.Scars fans (8/10): Surprisingly not many of them. I'm kinda bummed out about it since I like this character. Though his fanarts are mostly adorable! They're always chill, I'm happy to see them on my feed -`♡´-

Leman Russ & S.W fans (7/10): I would rate it 8/10 but I hate stimky wolf grrrr so -1 point (msflora found dead in fenris more at news 6). Anyways fanart-wise, they're so good!! I like how they always draw Leman like a scrunkly lil guy. I also love to read their fanfictions.

Rogal Dorn & I.Fists fans (6/10): WHERE ARE YOU PEOPLE?! I CAN'T FIND YOU!! I RATE IT LOW BECAUSE I'M SCRAPING THE GROUND FOR ROGAL DORN CONTENT! But in all seriousness, loving how they embrace the 'fortify' meme. I don't like the weird Black Templar larpers from twitter, but that's just a 1% of the fanbase

Konrad Curze & Night Lord fans (8/10): Your fanfictions scares me, most of the hashtags are nowhere written in the bible, but I read them all so who am I to judge. I love how this side of the fandom just embrace the 'we are bad and disturbing and creepy' schtick and go ball. I blame this side of the fandom for making me love Jago Sevatar tho.

Sanguinius & Blood Angels fans (10/10): Insane artworks from this side of the fandom, always impress me. A lot of vampire and angelic stuff, I love you guys. Sorry about your primarch tho.

Ferrus Manus & I.H fans (all six of them) (7/10): I'm sorry about your primarch, I'm sorry he get crumbs in the lore. I rate it low because I'm scraping for any IH/Ferrus content here....

Angron & World Eaters fans (8/10): Loving the contents you guys made here! A lot of red, so many red, oh god. I'm sorry about the sinking ship of Argel Tal x Kharn though.

Roboute Guilliman & Ultramarine fans (9/10): Spoiled, well-fed, their favorite guys have insane plot armor and I'm jealous >:(. Keep the bulky half-naked Rob fanarts coming tho I have them all liked & downloaded.

Mortarion & D.Guards fans (6/10): I do not like Nurgle stuff so I rarely go there... But my god most fanfictions yall made for Mortarion x reader is heartbreaking. Rating it low because I get scared of some fanarts they make, but pre-heresy Mortarion is kinda baddddddd👅

Magnus the Red & Thousand Sons fans (100 Tzaangors/10): We are so cool and awesome, not a biased rating. In all seriousness we Tsons fans r eating GOOODDD this year (thx SM2). Though we suffer from a disease called 'inconsistent writing of our favorite primarch's power levels' and it's not getting better.

Horus & L.Wolves fans (9/10): Guys I understand, Horus is big daddy, a father, he's an icon, you guys made it clear with the abundant of breeding tags in your fanfics. Sorry that the way he's corrupted into chaos is kinda bootycheeks tho :( Wishing they explore more into his corruption.

Lorgar & WB fans (Where Are You Guys/10): While being small, they make the best artworks for Lorgar. Questionable fanfic tags, but I love yall regardless. They kinda eats with all the Word Bearer fanarts tho I've seen. Sadly, Erebus is from here and everyone hates him.

Vulkan & Salamander fans (8/10): I would like to pet them. In all seriousness I'm happy to see the majority of Vulkan fanarts are created with African features in mind ♥︎!! Everyone from this fanbase are cute and sweet!!

Corvus Corax & RG fans (Birds/10): I love all the raven aesthetics often seen in their fanworks. Corvus having wings is so cool, and often I see amazing OCs spawning from this legion.

Alpharius Omegon & A.L fans (What are you guys doing/10): I can't find much about them but I fw with the entire 'we dont know what our primarch is doing so we just ball it'. BUT HEY CONGRATS ON YOUR PRIMARCH COMING BACK!!!

:3 And I love all of you... Thank you for reading this nonsense of a post.

[aphroditelovesu]

Yan!Husband's Bridgerton men? 🥺

❝ 🐝 — lady l: oh, this is so sweet! I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: none, pure fluff.

❝🐝pairing: yandere!anthony bridgerton, yandere!benedict bridgerton and yandere!colin bridgerton x female!reader.

Anthony Bridgerton

Anthony Bridgerton is so in love with you it hurts. He's such a devoted and devoted husband to you that it's sweet, actually. His eyes shine when you are in his presence and everything is forgotten and his attention is focused exclusively on you. His sweet and perfect Viscountess.

Your every gesture, every smile, every word you say delights him in a way he never thought possible. He strives to make every moment with you unforgettable, from small acts of kindness to grand gestures of love.

When you wake up in the morning, it's always with a cuddle or a soft kiss, as if he couldn't wait another second to see you. During the day, he finds ways to surprise you and remind you of his love, whether it's with a flower stolen from the garden, a passionate note left in your favorite place, or a whispered conversation at dusk.

At night, when the world seems to calm down, he likes to hold your hand and hear about your day, laughing and sharing stories as if your every word were a precious jewel. The way he looks at you, as if you were the most precious thing in this world, makes you feel loved and safe.

He's not exactly possessive but Anthony can be very jealous of you. You are his wife, his Viscountess and everyone must know that. Anthony will have no problem dealing with whoever made him jealous later on.

Anthony is a husband who goes to great lengths to ensure you feel happy and fulfilled. He is your confidant, your partner and your greatest admirer. With him, every day is a new opportunity to experience a deep and true love, a love that grows stronger over time and that only becomes sweeter with each moment shared.

Benedict Bridgerton

Benedict Bridgerton can't imagine a time when you aren't in his thoughts. His love for you is so deep and sincere that it has shaped his life in ways he never could have predicted. He became a more caring and dedicated man, always looking for ways to bring a smile to his face.

Benedict puts you above everything and everyone. You are his wife, his family and, most of all, the woman he loves with everything in him. You will always be his priority.

Every brushstroke in his artwork is inspired by you. Benedict often gets lost in daydreams about your smile, your laugh, and the way your eyes sparkle when you are happy. He dedicates each of his creations to you, infusing them with the love and admiration he feels.

Your main goal is your happiness. He is always attentive to your desires and needs, whether preparing a special surprise, organizing a romantic evening or simply listening to you with attention and affection. He wants you to feel loved and valued at every moment, and he does everything to ensure that.

Benedict is not a naturally jealous man, but his deep love for you can awaken a protective feeling. He values ​​your happiness and your relationship so much that, in rare moments, he may feel a pang of jealousy. However, he deals with these feelings in a mature and respectful way. When he realizes that he is becoming jealous, Benedict tries hard not to let it affect your relationship. He prefers to talk openly about what he feels, always seeking to resolve any insecurities with honesty and trust.

Benedict's presence at your side is constant and comforting. He is your confidant, your biggest supporter and your anchor. The love he feels for you is evident in every look, every gesture and every word. He wants to share his life with you, grow together, and face any challenge life may throw at him, always with you in his heart and mind.

Colin Bridgerton

Colin Bridgerton is the epitome of devotion and protectiveness when it comes to you. His love for you is so intense that he considers it his duty to ensure your safety and happiness at all costs. As your husband, he feels a fervent responsibility to take care of you, and no one dares say anything negative about you in his presence.

He is always by your side, attentive to any sign of discomfort or concern, ready to intervene and offer his unconditional support. Colin doesn't tolerate anyone disrespecting you or making you feel less than special. He is your most ardent defender, and his presence is a shield against any adversity.

Colin makes a point of demonstrating his love and dedication daily. Whether through loving gestures, words of encouragement or simply being there when you need it most, he goes out of his way to show you that you are his priority. His love is protective but never suffocating; he respects your independence and values ​​your opinions, always seeking a balanced and harmonious partnership.

Colin, intensely protective, is not naturally possessive. His love for you is great and deep, but he understands the importance of trust and mutual respect in a healthy relationship. Although he can be overprotective, this does not translate into possessiveness. He is jealous at times but not possessive.

He struggles to balance his need to care for you with understanding your independence and autonomy. Colin values ​​your happiness and wants you to feel free and respected in all your choices and actions. He knows that a strong relationship is based on trust, and he never wants you to feel limited or controlled by him.

When you're together, Colin is completely focused on you, his eyes shining with admiration and affection. He does everything he can to create an environment where you feel safe, loved and valued. His love is a constant source of strength and comfort, and he will never stop caring for you with the full intensity of his feelings.

[leidensygdom]

Commission scams: A guide on how to avoid them and find legit artists

Hello! I am writing this guide in order to hopefully help people spot scammers and art thieves, to teach people how to deal with them and to give people ways to actually get real artists for commission work.

For those who do not know, there is a recurring, extremely widespread type of scam where someone will advertise their commissions using stolen artwork, or (sometimes) traced or AI-generated pictures. This started (as far as I know) on Twitter, but it is currently in all sorts of social media (I have found them in Twitter, Instagram, Bluesky and Tumblr) and also on Discord servers, often large Discord servers requiring no invites or that are easy to find through Discord advertisement places.

These do obviously hurt both, the people seeking to buy a commission (who will either get their money stolen, or given a product that is not of the quality that was advertised), and the artists whose work is being stolen, who are not getting the work themselves. It is important for people to learn how to identify these people, and to quickly take action when possible. This post is kind of lengthy, so please press the Keep reading button below for the full guide! (And please do share this post around if possible- This is a very common scam and I have met far too many people who have fallen to it or have got their art stolen due to it, including friends and myself.)

So, how do they work? (in Social media)

In my experience, a lot of these scammers either run multiple accounts or are part of a larger scheme, operating in organized groups that follow similar tactics. They will very often use automated means to advertise en masse. Those in social media will make accounts that post some example artwork, often with a myriad of tags, in styles that do not match (see first example, featuring my stolen art :'')). They very rarely post anything that isn't stolen artwork, or have any actual real following they interact with properly. They will then very often spam heavily through replies (such as it happens in Twitter), posting hundreds of really similar messages in a short period of time. In the second example, you can see an account from one of these scammers that is using automated posts to garner attention, which are shared by similar accounts (notice the same exact wording between the first and third post). The third example (in the Replies tab) shows how one of this accounts replies "Hi" to every single message they get.

They will often seek posts from people who are searching for commissions, answering them (often with a "I do commissions, DM me") or other variants of that. (They often only share their "art" on DMs to not be caught stealing by the original authors.) You can see an example of that on the first screenshot below. On Twitter, Instagram and pretty much any place where you can DM people, they may also come to your DMs, often starting with a "Hello" or something so you answer to them, and then they will suddenly share their commission information (as seen in the second picture).

In any case, they rarely have publicly available commission sheets, and will only disclose their prices on DMs. They may share more stolen artwork in there. From there on, they will often speak in fairly broken English, and try to lead you to commission them. They will haggle the prices if they can- But they tend to be fairly steep, with them going up to $300 a fullbody, which tends to be unusual in people without a fairly established following or popularity.

They will often give you a payment method that does not allow for refunds- Such as sending the money to "Friends and Family" in Paypal. This is actually illegal for commercial work, so if you get an artist telling you to pay them through such a method, please do be incredibly wary: Professionals will use methods that do have an option for refunds.

2. How do they work? (on Discord)

On Discord, they will often enter in servers where there may be a place for them to advertise, or servers available through Disboard and other Discord-community searchable sites. Then, they will often not interact at all with the community itself, but they will jump to advertising channels and post about "seeking for work". I have found out that scammers operating on Discord do only very rarely also have socials, so look out for that. Do reverse searches if you can. Legit artists don't tend to join Discords solely to advertise, so look up "from: [name]" on Discord and check how they have interacted in the server, if they have done that in any way. See the first and second example for an example on how they behave. First example has art from @ydteus (in the second message, the dragonborn's source is unknown.) Second example is from one of these accounts who entered on a Streamers' Discord. Streamers and VTubers are very popular targets for these scammers. Third example (with art from absent_lambeth on instagram, and unknown for the second picture) shows another important point, which I'll explain below.

Many of these scammers do not have solid commission sheets showing examples and prices for them. The third one even mentions "it is under construction", fully knowing a commission sheet is expected. Not every professional artist has them, but most do. It is often expected that people who do commissions will have some sort of Terms of Service at the very least, even if they do not have a commission sheet.

3. What do they do?

They scam you. You may never get any art from them. You may get traced art, or art that is not of the quality they advertised, because the art they used for promotion wasn't theirs on the first place. Or you may get an AI-generated picture, too. In either way: You will find yourself with +$200 less in your pocket and no way to seek a refund. So, it's very important you know how to spot them BEFORE they scam you. I have known people who have lost their money

4. How do I actually spot them?

Simply put, they do not act like normal artists would. Let's make a handy list of suspicious behaviours to look for, though.

Most people who draw commissions won't directly DM you unprompted to ask you to pay them for work. If you get such a DM- Report as spam and block.

Most of them don't act like bots, either. If you're on Twitter or similar pages, seek for extremely repetitive posts, hundreds of Replies in their Replies tab that are copypasted or very similar. If you see that, report as spam and block.

Reverse search is sadly very unreliable nowadays, but it does not hurt to try. A lot of them will modify the picture so it doesn't show in reverse search, but try it- And seek if it links to a different account with a different name.

As an ESL, I hate to say this, but the grand majority of them have really broken English, so look out for that. Not every person with broken English is a scammer, but it is something common amidst them. You will notice they fail to communicate general information. Try to ask them for Terms of Service, for example: They will probably be unable to provide you anything (if they do even understand you.)

You will rarely find them on your own unless you frequent specific tags, such as "commission" or "openforcommission". Or even using completely unrelated tags in their posts. I found one of them using a tag about someone's death to cop violence on their anime art. These people mostly only interact with their fellow scammers, but not with artists you'd find through other means.

As mentioned above, they won't provide you a payment method that allows for refunds the grand majority of the time. If someone tells you to send them money "as friends and family" in Paypal, or through something life Ko-fi's donations (although this one is rare), do not pay them. This is a general advice: Do not use payment methods that do not allow refunds for people you don't know.

Ask them for a commission sheet, a webpage, their Terms of Service and other things. Professionals should be able to provide at least one of these, usually.

5. What do I do if I find out they have stolen art/if my art has been stolen?

If you have found stolen art, let the original artist known ASAP if you can find them. Ask for help from friends if you cannot find them.

If you're the artist, DMCA claim. Every page has it, it is required for them to have it. If you search "dmca form (and the website's name)", it should show up. Bsky only has it in mail form right now, but it's there. A DMCA claim is a Copyright claim, and as long as you can show that you posted your picture somewhere before they did, you can do it. The form may seem scary, but it is not all that much. They will ask for your legal full name, address, a mail + a telephone, the url of the post stealing your art, an url to where you posted it first, and to sign/agree to some terms. DMCA claims tend to be processed swiftly (in about a day) because websites can get in trouble if they allow for copyrighted content to be stolen. And you actually do have rights to any picture you have created without needing to trademark it or anything.

You may also want to ask your friends to help you report the account and/or posts. Often, reporting it for spam will give you the best results. DMCA claims will take down the offending posts, but sadly, reports in most major places are rarely taken seriously, but they may limit an accounts' reach or auto-flag it as spam in DMs, so it is still a fairly effortless option to follow. DO still DMCA claim them though.

6. Where do I actually find real people to commission?

Your best bet is through other real people. Let me explain some good methods for this.

Do you have friends who are artists? Ask them if they have commissions open, or if they know other people who take them. Artists almost always know other artists, and they can quickly find you someone you can trust.

Did a friend of yours get a commission? Ask them who was it from if you like the style, and they may be able to get you a link to their social media!

Do you follow artists for any sort of content you're interested in? (General art, fanart/fandom stuff, people you look up to, etc). You can check their work first and see if they have commissions, or if they share art from other people, and then check those.

Scammers really don't partake in fandoms or have art-related posts go viral (some get some follower-begging bait going viral, but that's it). Chances are that, if you found a cool art in your dashboard or timeline, it is from a real artist.

I think places such as VGen need verification for artists and have ratings. I am not personally experienced with it, but you may want to check that out.

You can always ask people to double check with you if you found someone but are doubtful about them being legit. If you are part of any community, do ask there! If you have artist friends, tell them! A lot of artists are acquittanced with the scam issue.

I have seen people do lists of artists available for commissions in places such as bsky, too. These can be an option, but always do verify that the people doing the list in the first place do seem like an actual person.

Ending notes

This is a very long post, but I really wanted it to be very thorough. I would greatly appreciate if you could share it around, as it is a very widespread issue that not many know how to identify. If you do find out scammers in Discords, please DM the servers' admins and link them to this post so they can get banned, in order to prevent scamming and art theft.

If you have any question or you need someone to help you verify an artist being legit or a scammer, my DMs are open for that too. I have talked about this a bunch in other places and I am fairly experienced with these cases, and I would be very happy to be able to lend a hand and find you an artist, if you do need the help. Thank you for reading!

[luvsupa]

001 | WORK OF ART

tags: sugardaddy!nanami x fem!reader, smut, public sex-ish, toys used, age gap (nanamis late 30s and readers early/ mid 20s), petnames, nanami is in love with reader and her art, mdni.

w.c: 2.6k

a/n: UHMM GUYS THANK U SOSO MUCH FOR 600 FOLLOWERS?! EEKKK ILY GUYSSS 🤍🤍

+ likes and reblogs are appreciated!

the convention center quickly fills up at eight o’clock as hundreds and hundreds of rich people eagerly gather to see and purchase the artworks displayed by you and your fellow artists.

you’re already over the fact that it’s art display season, as obnoxious rich patrons approach your work only to mock it and its price. your coordinator has repeatedly stated that your specific artwork isn’t as eye-catching as the others in your group.

“your art can only sell for one thousand, and that’s pushing it,” your coordinator once said.

one thousand is quite a lot of money, but everyone else’s pieces are selling for five thousand and more! their bland artwork compared to yours shouldn’t be sold for that much—now i’m just sounding jealous.

all the artists stand at their assigned sections in front of their artwork as the paid guests slowly walk in, drawn to whatever catches their attention. you glance at your friend beside you as she wishes you good luck.

the room is brightly lit with led lights, giving it a clean and modern feel. soft, instrumental music plays over the speakers, barely audible over the hum of conversations. waiters weave through the crowd, offering glasses of champagne that clink as guests accept them.

you stand awkwardly, already expecting the nasty glares at your canvas. this year, you went for an erotic art piece titled “a woman’s high.” the painting depicts a woman in an abstract way, in the moment of climax, as a blurred-out male figure gives her oral sex, with the focus solely on the female.

“don’t you think this is quite… inappropriate for an art exhibition?” the middle-aged woman clung to her husband’s arm, both looking disgusted at your erotic painting. she leaned in to read the card with your name, pricing, and title, her brows raising in amusement.

“hah! one thousand for this? oh dear, this is a mockery to all the other talented artists here,” she scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain. the snobby rich couple found it hilarious, unable to control their laughter. “even i wouldn’t keep it if it were free!” she said as they walked away, still laughing as they moved on to the next pieces.

you stood there, their words stinging more than any you’d heard before. nearly five months spent on your painting, and this is how they treated you. damn that couple.

“your talent for oil painting is incredible,” a deep, husky voice said. you looked up to see a tall, middle-aged man with golden blonde hair slicked back, a few strands hanging in front of his beautifully sculpted face. he was looking at you—and complimenting your art?

you rarely got this stunned at one of your exhibitions, but wow. you shamelessly scanned his figure, muscles bulging from his white button-up shirt, a few buttons undone to show his toned chest. his black dress pants hugged his muscled thighs, and you gulped hard, eyes moving back to his-

“nanami! how great it is to finally see you!” your main coordinator appeared, twirling her hair awhile bombarding him with questions.

“there’s something i want to show you, but it requires us being alone,” she giggled, rubbing his arm up and down. you stood there awkwardly, not wanting to listen to their flirtatious conversation.

“i’m afraid i’ll pass. i’m more intrigued by this beautiful art.” he turned to look at you, making your eyes widen. no one had ever been this persistent about wanting to see your artwork. it made you feel giddy inside.

“oh nanami, this artist needs a lot of practice. i mean, look at the painting!” she pointed out, trying to embarrass you in front of this fine man.

“i wasn’t referring to the painting.”

oh.

“s-sir?” she stammered, both of you shocked at his words. he thinks i’m beautiful? he was very slick with that.

“and her skills are beyond amazing. the way she captures the perfect moment of the woman’s orgasm and highlights her expression—there’s no need for more practice,” he said, silencing your coordinator as he praised the parts of your art that he loved. you were still in shock at what had just occurred.

“however, there is one flaw about this,” nanami stated, and your smile slightly dropped. you were ready for him to treat you the same way everyone else had. your coordinator found an opportunity to bully you and your art even more.

“pfft, finally. i’ve noticed a lot wrong with her art—”

“the price,” he cut her off, pulling out a chequebook from his pocket and beginning to write. “how much?” you both gasped at his boldness.

“i-i…” you stuttered, at a loss for words for the first time, while your coordinator fumed. he chuckled at your reaction as he continued writing, then ripped the paper to hand it to you.

“i’d like for you to come see me later, beautiful,” he said, his smooth words leaving you hypnotized. and with that, he walked away as your coordinator followed him, trying to get his attention.

you stared down at the paper, your jaw dropping at the amount he was giving you.

10,000 dollars

holy fuck.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

as the art exhibition continued on all night, you left your painting unattended- searching everywhere throughout the museum to find the mysterious man, nanami. hell, you even had to beg your annoying coordinator for his whereabouts. finally, she gave in.

“he’s going to his car, something about a gift for me!” she exclaimed. you didn’t buy it for a second, but you headed towards the elevator, stepping in to pressing‘P’ as the button illuminated. the doors closed, and the elevator descended to the parking lot.

the button stopped glowing as the doors opened, revealing the eerie parking lot filled with cars on every level. you walked out, your heels clicking against the cold concrete as you quickly rushed to see where he could be.

“are you following me?”

you stopped where you were, hearing his deep voice. you turned around to see his beautiful smirk plastered on his lips, holding his black jacket on his shoulder. fuck, he’s so hot.

“i just wanted to thank you so much for purchasing my art,” you nervously said as he eyed you down. you squeezed your thighs tight as the tension thickened.

“come with me,” he said, smiling as he formed a sinful idea in his mind. he honestly couldn’t control himself, thinking about how delicious you looked in your black mini skirt and white button-up shirt similar to his own.

cute, he thinks.

you wasted no time, immediately picking up your steps as he strode down the long parking lot to his car. finally, his car came into view—a luxurious sports car you’d only seen in movies and tv shows. how rich is he?

he unlocks the driver's door as you stand in front of his car, listening to the muffled chatter and honks of the city coming to life at night. from the corner of your eye, you see him pull out a box as he shuts the door, catching your attention.

"i want you to put this on," he says, walking closer and towering over you as he hands you the box. you carefully read it, and your jaw drops for the second time that night.

bluetooth vibrator.

"i-i can't, i have to be talking to people this whole night," you stammer, attempting to hand the box back, but he doesn't take it.

"that's the whole point, sweetheart. live a little- have fun." he coos, bringing his hands to cup your face, caressing it. "you always seem so serious. let me show you how to enjoy yourself." for the first time your body betrays you as you start feeling aroused by him.

shamelessly, you bring one of your free hands to pull his neck lower to your level, smashing him into a heated kiss. he smirks into the kiss as you suck harshly on his lips, smudging your lipstick onto his. nanami places you against the hood of his luxurious sports car as the box slips from your hand, making a loud thud on the ground.

"eager, aren't we?" he murmurs, his voice dripping with condescension and desire.

nanami parts your thighs with his knee, allowing you to grind on him. your hips move rhythmically as you whimper into the kiss, growing wetter by the second.

he snakes his hand down to your thighs, moving his knee, eliciting a needy whimper from you. wanting more. he replaces his knee with his thick fingers, easily reaching your clothed cunt through your short skirt. he rubs your leaky slit through your panties, and you moan into the kiss. he pulls away, chuckling at how quickly you became this wet.

"such a good girl," he teases, his tone both patronizing and seductive.

you look up at him with needy eyes, craving more of his touch—more of him. you need him.

“i’ll see you inside,” he says, pecking your lips and sliding his hand away from your heat. he walks away, wiping the smudged lipstick off his mouth, leaving you sprawled out on the hood of his car. how can he leave you like this? you’re contemplating on whether you should continue on or leave- oh fuck it.

“w-wait, i’ll put it on,” you say, rising from the hood of the car and wobbling towards him as you quickly pick up the box. he chuckles, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. 

“my sweet girl, i knew you’d give in,” he says, turning around to see you almost losing your balance. he holds you steady as you start unboxing the toy, wanting nothing more than a good release from him.

you stare at the oddly shaped vibrator, confused about how to put it on.

nanami grabs the pink toy from your hand as he kneels to the ground. “may i?” he asks, wanting to insert it for you. you eagerly nod as he bunches up your skirt to your waist, and you stare down at him, watching his every move like a hawk.

he places a soft kiss on your clothed clit, making you nearly fall over. nanami swiftly tugs down your panties, and you step out of them as he rises from the ground, standing tall as he shoves your wet panties into his pocket. how nasty he is.

“geez, you’re soaking,” he points out, swiping two of his fingers along your slit and watching your arousal coat his digits. he brings the toy to your hole, aligning it with the tip before slowly inserting it. you hiss at the stretch of the toy within your velvety walls, the girth painfully good as you bite your lip hard, clenching rapidly around the silicone toy.

you whimper as he positions the other half of the toy against your achy clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to ensure it’s perfectly aligned with your sensitive nub. he’s determined to see you crumble.

nanami smooths down your skirt, pulling it back into place so no one can see the lewd things happening between you two. he retrieves his phone from his pocket and connects to the app, pressing the power button. your knees buckle as the vibrator springs to life, the dual stimulation nearly making you roll your eyes back at the slow, teasing intensity.

“you did so good, baby,” he coos, his praise making you hum in pleasure as he steadies your balance, pressing a tender kiss to the side of your head. he increases the intensity, and broken moans slip from your lips. he finds your reactions amusing as he guides you back to the elevator, pressing the button and standing behind you, holding you in place.

“y-you clicked the wrong f-floor,” you manage to gasp, breathless. he chuckles darkly behind you, making your skin crawl. your eyes shoot up in horror as you realize he’s selected the floor where all the guests enter to get to the museum.

“oh, did I? silly me,” he says, a smirk evident in his voice. as the elevator doors open, you’re met with a small group of guests, including the middle-aged couple who had mocked you earlier. you feel a fleeting sense of relief as he finally turns off the vibrator, but the situation remains unbearably tense.

the elevator is packed with guests, and you’re pressed intimately close to nanami. the heat of his body against yours only heightens your need, as you’re unconsciously grinding against his bulge, desperate for release.

“nanami, i didn’t realize you were with her,” the familiar woman says, clinging to her husband. the bitch who flat out insulted me..

“mhm, yes, i am,” nanami replies smoothly, his hand slipping lower to discreetly control the vibrator. “have you seen her work? i think everyone should join. she’s got a beautiful speech prepared, don’t you?” he adds, his gaze shifting to you with a knowing smile. heads turn in your direction, intrigued by the fact that nanami kento is involved.

“oh, yes, i suppose i’ll prepare something as well—mmf,” you try to stifle a moan as nanami cranks the vibrator to its fullest intensity. you squeeze your thighs tightly, fighting to keep your arousal from dripping down your thighs.

“and what will it be about?” a businessman in the elevator asks curiously. you can barely focus on anything except the overwhelming pleasure of the vibrator thrusting in and out at a relentless pace, your poor clit being ruthlessly stimulated.

“haven’t—hahhh—i haven’t f-finished,” you stammer, casting a pleading look at nanami, desperate for the torture to end. he only smiles in response, his eyes glinting with cruel satisfaction.

ding!

you’ve never been so eager for the elevator’s arrival. the guests say their goodbyes, but just as nanami tries to guide you out, you stop him, hitting a random button.

“what happened to speaking to everyone the whole night, hmm?” he says, his voice dripping with mockery as he gazes down at your dazed expression.

“fuck them,” you mutter, reaching up to kiss him, but he pulls away, eliciting a pout from you.

“such a dirty mouth—do you expect me to kiss you?” he says, bringing a hand to your face. you melt into his touch as he slowly brings his thumb to your mouth, smudging your lipstick. he rests his thumb on your bottom lip, and you open your mouth, looking sultry into his hazel eyes.

you take his thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and slightly bobbing your head as if giving a messy blowjob. nanami watches, his blood rushing to his growing bulge as he takes in your bratty attitude.

you release his thumb with a slight pop, leaving it glistening with your saliva. nanami, shocked by your filthy display, grabs your face and crashes his lips onto yours. this kiss is hungrier, more eager than the last.

ding!

the elevator’s arrival chimes, and the doors start to open. your coordinator, her face a mask of horror, sees you two and screams in shock. she’s so upset that storms off. the doors quickly close, leaving you and nanami in the privacy of the elevator.

you chuckle at her reaction. “i have to get back, nanami,” you say, your hands roaming his chest, a whimper escaping as you remember the toy still buried deep inside you.

“you’re really gonna leave me like this?” he growls, referring to his raging hard-on. you chuckle, feeling a thrill at his reaction. “hmm, you can still toy with me the entire night,” you purr.

nanami reaches into his front pocket and pulls out a business card, his name and phone number neatly printed. “call me when you’re ready to leave. i’m not done with you,” he promises, making you feel excited for what he has planned.

you give him a quick peck on the lips and press the ‘open’ button on the elevator. just as you’re about to step out, you feel a sharp sting on your ass cheek. you hear him hum behind you.

oh how he’s going to cause so much trouble.. 

[utterlyotterlyx]

The Girl Who Cheated Death

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - There was no one in any universe who would dare to approach you without fear, that is until you meet a certain Shadowsinger. Once stone cold and vicious in your own right, you soon come to realise that perhaps all it takes is a pretty male with hazel eyes to set you free.

Warnings - kinda dark reader, stone cold, lots of sass, swearing, drinking, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of trauma, some subtle sexual tension, everyone being afraid of the reader because she's giving death vibes x

Word Count - 8.9k

Physical descriptions are present in this fic.

Based on this ask! Thank you @cleverzonkwombatsludge for the request 🫶🏻

"Can I offer some criticism?"

"If it's constructive..."

"You're an idiot," the unwinding braid at your side loosened more with each twist of your fingers, and to your right, through the reflection of the recently polished vanity mirror stood Amren, your closest friend that you had gained when you had first moved to the Night Court one hundred years ago.

It had been no accident that you and Amren had met, in fact, she had been the one to seek you out after a rather intriguing show you had directed at Rita's. Amren watched man after man almost break their necks to look at you, the most beautiful resident of the Night Court, and in all of Prythian. Hair that reminded Amren of a black widow swayed behind you in perfectly loose curls, it was sinfully dark and shone in the faelight, shimmering so brilliantly that Amren had thought that threads of silken web were weaved between each glossy black strand.

Amren also remembered the dress you had worn, it was short and tight, the fabric hugged every curve of your body and kissed the thighs that were connected to those incredible taut calves. If looks could kill then the Night Court would certainly fall to its knees.

It wasn't what you looked like that caught Amren's attention, however. It was the way that every single person in that room shrunk away from your stare, a stone iced glare that was void of any life, all that lay in them was ire and boredom, which quite perfectly summed up what you felt about life in general.

The firedrake sought you out, coming by the gallery you had opened in the city which held an array of carefully collected artworks and mysteriously rare antiques, just to get a glimpse of you, to see the one who had been the first to pique her eye in centuries. Amren had not been disappointed by you. There was something about the way you carried yourself that attracted her to your aura, the perfect posture and slightly hooded eyelids that encased walnut orbs that glimmered gold in the sun. That wasn't all, no, it was also the way you spoke, so sultry and dark, but there was a certain elegance your words. A siren luring souls to the darkest depths of the ocean floor.

Rhys had once suggested that you'd never truly age considering you never smiled. That had earned him a rare small quirk of your lip, and he considered it to be his greatest achievement of his life to date.

It had made sense that the Night Court had been the place where you had chosen to settle, it had moulded very well with you, to the point where Day had become an infantile dream that was floating away in your subconscious. Forgotten.

Despite being a collector of sorts, Amren had soon found out just how far your talented talons stretched, you were incredibly well versed in old dialects, ancient symbols and traditions, a talent that Rhys had soon asked Amren to take advantage of since he was too afraid of you to ask you for aid himself.

Seemed as though the terrifying High Lord of the Night Court was actually scared of something.

"How exactly am I an idiot?" Amren enquired with darkened orbs that kept on glancing downward to the scars that littered the bare spine from the licks of Illyrian whips. They were slightly raised and pallid in comparison to the rest of your healthy glowing hue.

Untethering the last of your braid, you ran your nails over your scalp and pulled slightly, shivering at the relief that surged through you as your hair fell unbound down your spine. All the taut tension in your body quickly evaporated. Silently, you turned on your seat to face your friend, "You're asking me to revamp my evil lair to make it more welcoming for your odd little family," you said incredulously and unblinking, "You're an idiot."

Amren wasn't exactly asking you to make your own home more appeasing to the Inner Circle, she simply meant the private office that Rhys had bestowed to you for whenever he needed your help with something, and it had become a place that you frequented often. It was located in the library of the House of Wind so that your nimble fingers had access to all of the books and ancient texts they needed.

The only settling thing about that office was the view of the golden valley of Velaris, of the snow-capped mountains that loomed to the north. Everything else filled any resident with dread. Tall well-loved candles were scattered about the space, cloths stained with millennia old text hung from the ceilings, tomes lay splayed open on the desk and centre table, each depicting some form of terror. To you, your work was fascinating, studying the origins of evil and all of its forms, to others it was petrifying.

It wasn't odd to find the firedrake confined in your apartment, whether you be with her or not, glass of red in hand and reading some sort of research text. Amren often didn't even glace up at you when you entered your own home, all she noticed was your shadow gliding across the room, drowning out the golden candlelight.

"Rhys would spend more time with you if you did. He's actually really insightful, he could help you with your study."

"Why would I want to spend time with him?"

A poor attempt from Amren to try and push you into a monotone civilian life yet again.

"Fine," Amren rolled her coiling silver eyes and tutted, "Are you ready? Rhys doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Irritation was rife in her voice, you clasped a dainty blood diamond around your neck and allowed your shoulders to drop, "I don't particularly care for your High Lord's time." Rhys was not your High Lord and he knew it, he knew that you couldn't be ruled over and would never answer to anyone but yourself. A queen of her own kingdom. But one he very much wanted to keep on his side.

"Y/N," Amren bit, and you too tugged back the smirk that was quaking in the corners of your mouth.

Meeting her fiery gaze in the mirror, you rolled your head to the side in one swooped graceful motion, "I'm teasing, Amren." Rising from the bench before the vanity, you felt the silken hem of your dress brush against your feet. It was a simple garment, black buttoned up fabric, a deep v-neckline that showed the beginnings of your cleavage, short and soft floating sleeves that cuffed above your elbows.

Smirking with approval, Amren moved to the front door of your ornately beautiful apartment, a personal haven of yours that was vastly different to the office at the House of Wind. Brunette carpets thick enough to sleep upon covered the space, the walls were a shade of milked coffee, warm and inviting, and the ceilings were a soft cream and coved with intricate carvings. A large fire bundled into the far wall at the centre of a wall of windows, before it was a onyx seating area of plush deep seated sofas and armchairs.

It was charming. One of the best views of Velaris was from your living room window.

Leaving your home with the click of the lock, you followed after Amren, falling into place beside her as you walked up the winding paths to the House of Wind. The feeling of people's eyes trailing you had become something you'd become rather accustomed to, they were astounded by your beauty, amazed by how someone could look so breath-taking yet so horrifying.

The House of Wind was as it always was, incredibly luxurious in its own right and shivering at your entrance. It wasn't like the house didn't like you, it just struggled to adjust to your energy, it was starkly different to the usual joy it mostly held.

The echoing voices halted when you rounded the corner, your scent of jasmine and sandalwood soaring through the air, infecting their oxygen. Violet eyes appeared before you within a couple of moments, always wary, always laced with the tiniest bit of fear, "Thank you for meeting with us."

"Well," your eyes sliced across the room, absorbing every face and feature and feeling somewhat intrigued by a face you had never seen before. Tall and tan, shadows swirling at his shoulders, large wings that he had mindfully tucked behind his back, and shiny black hair that fell over his forehead. Rhys stood before you waiting for you to speak, your eyes found his and you hummed, tapping your finger against your clothed thigh, "Anything for the firedrake."

A chortled scoff flew from Cassian and Rhys stepped aside slightly to expose you to the general who soon choked on the air, "Something funny, Cass?" Rhys asked with a smirk, he motioned for you to find a seat and make yourself comfortable.

A deep rooted velvet armchair called to you and you moved to it, paying little attention to the hazel eyes fixated upon you. "No, not at all," Cassian sent you a tight-lipped smile which made Nesta grin, enjoying his discomfort nearly as much as you.

Flames danced in your eyes, the fire burning brightly in the fireplace that welcomed your gaze as though it was a mirror. Turning your head, you folded your hands over your thighs, feeling the exposed skin that lay there from the seamless slit in the fabric.

"How about you skip whatever small talk you were going to offer and get to the point, Rhysand?"

Widened pupils possessed Nesta's gaze, she leaned back into her seat and smirked, a wickedly feline feature, and spoke, "I like you."

No words left your lips, you held her gaze and felt your darkness bubble at her determination to withstand your stare, but she soon stood down; though, she continued to watch you, noting your posture and the way you held yourself. Nesta was in awe.

And she wasn't the only one.

"Straight to the point as always, y/n."

"Am I supposed to be anything but?" Rhys sighed, a headache already forming at his temples from your dry sassing. Perhaps he needed some of that powder that Elain had gifted to Azriel last solstice.

The High Lord pinched the bridge of his nose and slid his hand to rest on Feyre's knee, a sweet gesture, "We need your help with some particular text that none of us can translate. If anyone is going to be able to decipher it then it would be you."

"What text?"

Boredom coiled in your gut, "It's the story of Koschei, we believe that there may be a key hidden within the text that could help us to defeat him." The coil loosened and your eyebrow twitched, and a dark spot to your left caught that millisecond-long expression, sliding back to its master and humming in his ear.

Koschei was a death-god, a personification of evil. To have your hands on such a text would more than aid your research. It would make you infamous in the underworld of Prythian.

"Is it in my office?" Rhys straightened and nodded stiffly; rising to your feet, you brushed down the pleats of your skirt, "I'll take a look."

Before you could move from the room, a gentle clearing of a throat sounded from behind you, beckoning and hesitant. Slowly, you turned around, noticing how Rhys was now standing, "I would like Azriel to help you with this. I believe that your collective talents will be able to decipher the message faster."

Of course. The illustrious Shadowsinger that you had never had the displeasure of meeting. Azriel, Spymaster of the Night Court.

"Studies have shown that I didn't ask for your opinion, High Lord," if anyone else had used the mocking tone toward his title they would have been misted on the spot. But not you, never you. Rhys was too afraid that Hell would rise from your ashes and devour the continent if he even tried it.

A cool kiss slithered around your ankle, and when you peered down you found a shadow curling there, caressing your skin and shivering in delight. Your eyes followed the tendril back to its owner who was clearly mentally scrambling to pull his shadow back to the others. Hazel collided with molten gold and you found yourself yearning for the shadow to return.

"I have to insist," his voice wavered and it didn't go unnoticed by you.

Amren sucked in a breath, shrinking further into her spot wedged between Mor and Elain, knowing that she told had told Rhys multiple times to never order you to do anything.

"What do you fear, Rhysand?"

"I think that you'll find that the word fear is not in my vocabulary," he doubled down and you couldn't blame him, he was an alpha protecting his territory.

Ticking your head to the side, your eyes dragged up his body, and you smirked, a real one that made his blood chill, "Perhaps. But it's in your eyes," not giving him a chance to respond, you turned to Azriel, finding him looking up at you with an almost bewitched possession in his eyes, "Stay out of my way."

Not another word was spoken as you stalked from the room, the only sound being the footsteps of Azriel who had speedily followed after you. Neither of you spoke on the descent down to the library, even that vast space of aged excellence watched you enter; you almost floated across the room, a grace in your steps that Azriel had never seen before, and it had him needing to know more.

How Azriel had never met you astounded him, he would certainly remember a face like yours. It was one that held the power to haunt his dreams.

As promised, the texts had been left on your desk, and you moved to them instantly, tracing your fingers down the bound leather spine and examining the golden embossment, picking apart the symbols in your mind. Rounding the large oaken desk, you pulled the text with you, opening the cover and not even flinching when it thudded against the desktop.

Thick waves fell over your shoulder and you mindlessly tucked them back from where they had originated, not caring about the effect it had on the Shadowsinger who noted how your fingers grazed against your collarbone on its return to the ancient pages before your insightful eye.

"I've never been in here before," a weak attempt to strike up conversation with you. Azriel had heard much about you from Cassian and Rhys, of how awful terrifying you were, how you intimidated every single person that crossed your path and seemingly enjoyed the terror of it.

Azriel understood it, there was something about you that was unnerving, that he could understand why people were uncomfortable in your presence, but he only found himself in wonderment of it.

Without looking up, you turned the page gently and muttered, "Why would you? It's my office."

Displeasure was prominent on your tongue, the taste of it swelled in the muscle but you didn't allow it to be vile, you pulled the bile back and silently choked on it.

Azriel drank in the room, the begging to be lit candles and the large arched windows, the aged tapestries of history that were clearly too valuable to display in your gallery, "The creation of the cauldron," the words pulled you from the text and your gaze narrowed in on the Shadowsinger rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet with his hands folded neatly at his back.

"How do you know that?"

The Shadowsinger circled to face you and took a tentative step to the edge of the desk, "I've seen a couple of the same markings in a cave. This is the original?"

"Yes," there were many deplorable things you had taken part in to secure your collection as the most impressive in the entire universe, some things you weren't proud of, others, you were very much so.

"How did you get it?" Azriel admired the piece, a depiction of Prythian's creation that no one would ever guess was as important as it was, all because they couldn't read the first language of the fae.

Sitting back in your seat, you placed your magniscope on the surface, an ornate tool used by curators and researchers alike to read between the lines of existence, and watched him, "There are some things in this world that would make even your blood burn, Shadowsinger."

The way you said his name had a shudder flickering down his spine, your tone was sultry and low, like you knew of his darkness and had decided that it was a star in comparison to whatever lived within you.

A golden glow shrouded the room from the setting sun kissing the mountain peak, it washed over you, its light glittering your skin with shimmer, turning your eyes into burnished gold. The blood diamond around your neck cascaded speckles of its hue across the ceiling, and your chest rise an fell with even, calm breaths.

Forgetting the reason why he stood before you, Azriel allowed himself a moment to examine you, the beautifully loose hair that swam down that perfectly curved spine, the eyes and cheekbones, the full lips and the indents of your collarbone. You were by far the most incredible thing he had ever seen.

The stolen moment wasn't one that escaped your eye, a gentle heat pooled at your cheeks and you had no option but to look away, clearing your throat and pouring your attention back into the text in front of you.

Coiling the magniscope in your fingers, you hovered it over the written symbols on the page, moving it in line with every line and swirl you could see. It was a heavy object, and you hadn't been surprised when Amren had mistook the glass orb as a bookend.

"What do you know of Koschei?" Azriel found a place in the seat opposite you, his shadows danced from his shoulders and began to inch toward you, and he made no move or command to stop them.

"There are many legends," you began, craning your neck to peer at the top of the adjacent page, "Attacking his physical body won't harm him, he has split his soul into parts and placed them in other living creatures or sentient objects. Destroy the objects and you have a better chance of ending him."

Azriel angled himself forward, propping his elbows on his knees, "How do you know that?"

Again, without looking up, you spoke, "When you spend a lot of time in the Underworld of this continent you pick up a few things. You also learn how to decipher the truth from the lies."

Another gentle turn of the page.

The taupe scribing possessed the faintest words written in a pale gold ink, so miniscule that any other magniscope wouldn't be able to see it. Though yours wasn't just any ordinary magniscope, it was forged with the stardust of a fallen star, a star that used to burn the brightest in the northern skies.

"You know of the Underworld?"

For a moment, your gaze flickered upward, golden pools peering through your long thick lashes, "Very well."

It wasn't surprising that you had dabbled in the darkest reality of the continent, your knowledge was not cheap, and it wasn't knowledge that you could gain from books alone. Azriel wondered how many souls you had stripped from the earth on your quest for knowledge, perhaps it would cause his count to pale in comparison.

"I could only imagine what someone would do for this level of knowledge," his voice lingered, questioning, requiring to know every corner of the mind locked within the female in front of him.

"Are you trying to compare body counts, Spymaster? If so, I assume I would be disappointed with your lacklustre attempts."

Then you were back on the text, scribbling words down in the notepad to your left without even glancing to it, focused to the point where no letter strayed from the lines. But you still felt his eyes on you, waiting, scouring your face and trying to figure out why exactly he had never crossed paths with you before considering your occupation.

"Don't you have some doe-eyed damsel to go and rescue?"

Even with the fleeting few minutes spent with the Inner Circle, you saw how Elain Archeron looked at him, all love-sick and hopeful. Elain was a perfectly mundane being, content with all things bright and pretty. It was sickening.

Biting back the urge to roll his eyes at the thought, Azriel shuffled into his seat, seemingly getting more comfortable, "No."

"Shame," you mused, impressing Azriel with how you scribed, analysed and spoke all at the same time. A very powerful mind was dwelling within you, and it had his attention.

Azriel was finding your dry words quite amusing, though he was spending his time sat before you in silence, sketching every inch of your face and body to his memory.

A soft tug pulled at your brows, and if Azriel wasn't fixated upon you then he surely would have missed it. He let a minute pass, a minute where the pace of your analysation quickened alongside the rate of your writing. Again, your hair fell over your shoulder, clearly bothering you but you couldn't move it, not when you were so entranced, and it took all of his will to not do it for you.

Questioning you on your findings, your eyes held a certain twinkle to them as you explained your theory. That Koschei had in fact fractured his soul and implanted the pieces of it within other living creatures and objects, and that to hunt those objects down was the only way to be able to banish him from the world.

"Run and tell your master," you told him after you were done explaining how to find the first host of Koschei's soul, "I'm sure he will be thrilled with your input."

Which was very little, Azriel hadn't done anything other than invade your space and make himself far too comfortable, but he didn't argue, he simply stood from his seat and bowed, taking your hand in his marred digits and raising it to his lips, brushing them against your knuckles and thanking you before leaving you to your silence.

The ghost of his touch lingered on you skin, as did the licks at your calves from the shadows he hadn't cared to reign in upon his exit.

It was then that a small yet foreign warmth pooled in your chest, you rubbed the spot gingerly and sighed, returning to reality and shaking your head back to sense. Finding peace in the confined corners of your mind.

The next instance where you found yourself in Azriel's presence had been one warm afternoon in the library.

Velaris had been scorched by the sun, the summer breezes swept across the city, and you had decided to wear a simple grey dress that afternoon, it was lightweight enough to flow in the gentle caress of the wind but still managed to keep to your usual elegant yet sharp style.

Since that insisted couple of hours in your office a couple of weeks ago, you were ashamed to admit just how much your thoughts drifted to the Shadowsinger you had seen lurking in the corners of your consciousness. The darkness was lingering in the farthest reaches, as if it didn't wish to be discovered by you but couldn't steer itself away.

The ladder beneath your feet creaked as you reached across the shelf, tongue stuck out of the side of your mouth as you strained slightly, your fingers barely brushing against the spine of the book you needed. A familiar cool presence washed over you, trailing up your skirt and arms and extending from your fingers to remove the book from the shelf and place it in your awaiting grasp.

Peering back to the ground, you saw Azriel stood at the foot of the ladder with his hands resting at his sides; balling the skirt up in your fingers, you used the railing the lower yourself back to the earth and paused in front of Azriel who had a brow quirked in curiosity, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," his voice matched your own but he found himself faltering when you went to walk by him. His voice called out to you, "I just wanted to let you know that we found the first host."

You paused your steps and turned, "And?"

"It's destroyed," and clearly the gravity of it weighed on him, he had to have known that Koschei wasn't exactly going to make the objects easy to destroy, but it still didn't mean that it wasn't traumatising.

Understanding what he meant, at the life he had just taken to protect to continent, you took a step toward him, an olive branch of sorts, "Are you alright?"

Itching with confusion, Azriel nodded slowly, "I didn't think you cared."

You shrugged, nonchalant, and scuffed the heel of your sandal against the floor with your gentle kick, "I don't."

Azriel hummed, a serene grin tugging at the corners of his lips, "I think that you do," Azriel took a step forward and noticed how your back straightened and shoulders rolled back.

The book became plastered to your chest, "Whatever you think is of little concern to me."

Two weeks had passed, two weeks of not only searching for the first host of Koschei thanks to your wildly impressive knowledge, but two weeks of Azriel doing all he could to gain your attention. It had been difficult to see you at Rita's, swaying to the music without a care in the world beside Amren, and not be able to touch the skin that seemed as smooth as honey.

His shadows had been following you, reporting back to him of how you spent your days cooped up in your apartment reading or in your office analysing another ancient text. They reported no men, nothing untoward or damning, they simply whispering to him how pretty you were. They had been bewitched by you, utterly obsessed with everything that you were, and he couldn't blame them.

Turning on the balls of your feet again, you entered your office, leaving the door open in silent permission that Azriel basked in as he followed you inside, "I'm trying to talk to you, y/n."

A soft hum vibrated against your lips. Placing the book once glued to your chest on the centre table of the room, you faced Azriel once more. The office was cold, as was every chamber built below the main infrastructure of the house, and Azriel wondered how you could be so at home within it.

It was entrancing how a room so dark and full of evil texts and passages could make you look so ethereal. The glossed black hair he had often dreamt of running his fingers through was tied back in a loose thick braid, whisps of hair fell from the vines of it and settled over your eyes. Ornate jewellery twinkled in the pale sunlight, swirls of gold encased your fingers and wrists, and a coiled necklace that resembled a scaled serpent glided around the base of your neck.

"What would you like me to say? I did tell you how to find the first host so that you could destroy it. I don't require updates, Azriel," the movement of your tongue as you said his name for the first time had his resolve withering.

"Well, I suppose we'll have to warm ourselves by the glow of your I told you so."

Then, as though the sun was blessing the earth after eons of slumber, your lips widened into a grin, one big enough to expose your perfectly white teeth and Azriel felt the dark storm clouds in his soul splinter. A golden threat soared through him, reaching out to you and entwining itself with the thread bristling at your centre.

Sculpted fingers drifted over that spot in your chest that had become increasingly hard to ignore and you inhaled sharply. Azriel's pupils had dilated, they were wide and frenzied, and his hand was outstretched to you.

The smile on your face dropped.

"You're my mate," Azriel nodded at the words you had managed to utter, the same ones that had become lodged in his throat.

Heat prickled at his skin, nerves seeped into his bones. You were so unreadable, and Azriel was scrambling his thoughts to clear so that he may be able to figure out how you felt about it. About being fated to be his.

Azriel had learnt from Amren how unaffectionate you were, how much you hated anyone touching you. It was because of the Illyrian camps you had visited in your younger years where they had thought you a witch, and had punished you for it in a barbaric way; the evidence still lingered on your skin in long angry streaks, and Amren had admitted that night is what spurred on your need to understand the roots of evil.

It was understandable, to spend a lifetime studying the one thing that had ever truly hurt you. For what reason, Azriel didn't know, but he liked to think that it was to cause evil to cower in your presence.

Silence shrouded the room like a disease, infecting and poisoning everything in its path, and Azriel way becoming increasingly worried about how your smile had dropped. Was he truly that repulsive to you? He could only ever dream to be mated with someone like you, someone who welcomed death like an old friend and would entertain it in an eons long waltz, someone who was poised and elegant but so brilliantly lethal that it made even him shudder.

Taking an unsettling step toward you, Azriel loosened a breath when he saw that you hadn't retreated, his eyes were trained on you as he took another step, and then another, until his shadow danced with you own, "I'm your mate."

Rhys and Cassian would be mortified of the news, Azriel was sure that Rhys found you terrifying in the same way that Cassian found Bryaxis. No of that mattered though. Not to him. Not when he now belonged to a female as striking and dangerous as the blood in his veins.

A faint blush crept up your cheeks at the proximity, the tendrils connected to his essence peered over his shoulders seemingly apprehensively thrilled that it was you stood before them, "Yes, you are."

Azriel's gaze drifted down to your lips and left dragged back upward to your eyes, "Can I touch you?"

A part of you froze at the desperate question. You hadn't let anyone touch you in years, you couldn't remember the last time you laid with a male or female, you couldn't remember what a simple even felt like. Amren had never even tried to get too close to you let alone anyone else.

In the first vulnerable emotion you had ever let anyone see, you sheepishly nodded, eyes boring into his own and he didn't break his stare as his fingers twitched toward you, ghosting along your skin and melting at the heat they found there. Mindlessly, you shifted when his palm lingered a whisker away from the slope of your neck and his eyes became stitched with concern but softened when you had won the fight against your fear to stand still once more.

Azriel's hand lowered, resting against your skin that was softer than his imagination could ever fathom. His thumb drifted down the column of your throat and you swallowed, hard.

"You don't have to accept this or me," he told you, his voice tantalisingly cooing to you in a hush above a whisper, "But gods, y/n. I really hope that you do."

Azriel saw through you then, through that façade you wore like a medal. And he found what saw to be quite heart-breaking. Stood before him was a woman, one that possessed a brilliant mind and equally captivating beauty, but beneath it all was the girl who was brutalised so badly that she vowed to never allow another person close again.

"You're my mate," you spoke with a certain conviction that hadn't graced your words the last time, Azriel watched your lashes flutter, and he felt his soul singing when those eyes found him again, "I'm not letting you go."

Gracefully, your fingers curled around his wrist, your index finger sleeping just over the faint beat of his pulse, just where his marred flesh faded to memory, "You accept it?"

"I- yes, I do."

Jasmine and sandalwood drowned his lungs, and he would have died happy just to be able to say that he knew what your shampoo smelt like. Papaya and coconuts. He gingerly ran his fingers through your hair, noting how much you loved the feeling of it as you shivered in his arms. Azriel pressed a dainty but tender kiss to your brow, and it had you realising that maybe you were allowed to give yourself this one thing that the younger version of you had always dreamt of.

Azriel hadn't tried to push you further, he knew that the moment of allowing someone to touch you, to hold you, was far more momentous than finding your mate.

Instead he asked you a simple question, it was more of an offering than anything. To spend time together away from the prying eyes of his family, so that you may become comfortable with one another before allowing anyone else into it. You had agreed. Eagerly.

So the next few weeks drifted by, afternoon walks along the Sidra, morning breakfast drop-offs at your office, after hours visits to the gallery where you would tell him of your adventures and how on some occasions you barely survived. Azriel was in complete awe of you, he sat beside you on your love seat completely captivated by you, his fingers tracing small circles into your thighs and his shadows curling through your hair. And that smile, gods, that smile could make even the most poised male lose all sense. It was bright and gleaming, and your skin glowed with the happiness of it.

Then you had decided to break the news to the Inner Circle, and as you stood before those doors oozing with grandeur, you felt nerves pinch at your skin, "Are you ready?" Azriel's fingers were tangled with yours and he bowed his head to place his lips on your bare shoulder.

"Yes." Azriel gave your hand a gentle tug, willing you to move from your spot located just behind him.

The aura of the house had shifted, now, it was inquisitive, glancing to the mirrors and then back to your hands to see if what it was seeing was real. Laughter echoed at the end of the hall, your scent had usually silenced them by now, but not this time. Now that your scent was mixed with Azriel’s it seemed much less threatening. Pity.

Turning the corner, you became startled by the smash of a glass, shards of it glided along the floor and fell at your feet. Looking up, you found Mor frozen in place, wide eyes and bewildered. The rest of the room craned to attention, collectively moving their eyes from Mor, to you, and then to Azriel, and then to your entwined fingers.

It took a minute, but you could have sworn you heard the bell ding in Cassian’s empty brain, “Oh shit,” he rose to his feet, wings flaring slightly as a wide grin gripped his mouth.

Rhys appeared before you both, gaze lowered in surprise, clearly trying to picture a timeline in his mind. The High Lord looked to his Spymaster, “Are you-“

“Mates?” Azriel finished incredulously, knowing that your moulded scents had already infected the room, and turned his head to you, orbs gleaming and adoration speckled on his cheeks, “Yes.”

Elain Archeron had sank into her seat, doing her best to not pay attention to you in particular whilst her stomach churned with the scent seeping into her bones. Subconsciously, you moved closer to Azriel, a slightly territorial action that made him smirk.

It had been a brief conversation that you had suffered through, the one where Azriel had made it very clear that the situation with Elain was brutally one-sided. Azriel had only sought to be nice to her, to help her to adjust to her new body and life because she was Feyre's sister and Feyre was his High Lady, and she had taken his kindness for something much more than what it truly was.

Leading you to the velvet armchair that you would usually slither into, Azriel sat and motioned for you, turning you in his hands so that his touch never left your thighs, and pulled you to his lap. A bashful smile formed on your face and you could feel the eyes of the room on you, equally as confused as shocked.

"Since when?" Nesta had asked after sipping from the goblet of red wine between her fingers, the liquid staining her plump pale lips, and she used her thumb to wipe a singular droplet before it ran down her chin. Her eyes held an emotion you couldn't quite make out, Azriel had admitted that Nesta was just as unreadable as you at times, but the way his digits dug into your flesh told you that what the eldest sister was feeling was an assortment of jealousy. Not toward you, toward him.

"The bond snapped just over a month ago," Nesta hummed and burrowed herself into the cushions, pouting slightly, like she was an infant who had her favourite toy taken from her grasp. "We wanted to explore it before we properly accepted it or told anyone."

That made Elain's doe-like stare move from the floor to your mate who was sat with you on his thighs rubbing small circles into your shoulders, "So you haven't accepted it?"

Your jaw clenched at the question, the question that was perfumed with the last splatters of hope, "If you're asking if we've fucked yet, Elain, then no, we haven't. Does that answer your question?"

Azriel's fingers moved to play with the ends of your hair, knowing that the sensation of slight tugging over your scalp relaxed you infinitely, "I only ask because I know how physical Azriel can be. Surely you've heard the stories?" Elain feigned innocence, Feyre sighed from her seat and glanced to you apologetically, silently begging you to not tear her sister apart.

In fact, you had heard the stories. Trying to ignore the gossip of the city was difficult considering how used you were to eavesdropping into certain conversations in the underworld. So, unfortunately, you had heard about Azriel's many lovers, and you'd be silly to not feel insecure of it, but you wouldn't let her see that. Ever.

Craning your neck to the side, you smiled, your iced gaze slicing into her and making Elain shrink under the weight of it, "With all due respect, which is none," you leaned to the side, accepting the goblet of wine that the house had presented to you in premature thanks for the forthcoming words you were about to utter, "Your existence gives me a headache, so please go and find somewhere else to be."

Rhys' eyes widened but he suppressed the smirk forming on his face, hiding his lips behind his fist and closing his eyes. Not even Feyre or Nesta spoke up over it, they clearly knew better than to challenge you. Cassian however didn't really care if Elain saw his joy at your words, he had been growing more tired each passing day of her pining affection toward his brother, and now he understood why Azriel had withdrawn further from the female over the last few weeks.

It was because of the unique female before their very eyes.

The middle sister went to open her mouth, to retort something that wouldn't even irk you, but Amren shushed her, halted the words in her throat and willed her to die with them, "Don't even try it," Amren served you more than her own court, finding a kindred spirit within you, and she would shame herself if she let Elain speak to you as if you were nothing.

Elain would never understand someone like you. She wasn't worthy of it anyway.

No one had ever tried to understand Amren, not really, they thought her too complicated to be worth it. As long as they brought her pretty jewels and respected her then there was little else to worry of in their eyes. But you, you had understood her instantly and had found a particular solace with her, like you were peering through a mirror and she was your reflection.

Sipping the potent liquid in your goblet, you bowed your head to her, quietly thanking your friend for halting the small spat before it escalated and ruined the evening entirely. Tonight was not about Elain and her fragile feelings, it was about showing the Inner Circle who now owned your heart.

So, the middle sister vacated the room feigning a migraine, and the aura instantly lifted. A soft smile formed on your lips when your eyes landed on your mate, your entire face relaxed; entwining your fingers with his, you blushed when he pressed his lips to your knuckles and dragged your index finger down his cheek.

The Inner Circle watched on, knowing that they had never seen Azriel so taken by anything. They feasted on the sight of his shadows purring through your hair, on your colliding smiles, and how your gentle words to one another were contained in an ornate bubble around your bodies.

As the evening continued, you found yourself quite enjoying their company, you sat bundled into Azriel's embrace, finding comfort in the arms that were wrapped around you whilst Cassian spewed war stories, bragging at his prowess.

"Not to brag," you began with a smirk, "But at least eight men have described me as 'terrifying', and two of them are in this room. Choke on that ego, Cassian."

Nesta's grin turned feline and excitement bubbled in the pit of her stomach. What she wouldn't give to spar with you, to have your legs wound around her and that tense gaze splitting her in half. From the whisperings of Prythian, it was very clear that you had done some rather diabolical things in order to obtain certain artifacts that had been locked away in your most prized and personal collection. So prized that its location was unknown. She could only imagine what trinkets you possessed, and the things you had witnessed.

"What about Azriel?!"

The Shadowsinger shrugged, his hand resting on your thigh and squeezing the flesh there, "I've only ever been entranced by my mate, Cassian," Azriel drawled, sipping the amber liquid swirling in his rocks glass like molten bronze, "It's you and Rhys who are afraid of her."

"If it's any consolation, I don't blame you."

Cassian frowned, turning to Nesta and asking, "Are you scared of her?"

"No," she answered a little too quickly, so quickly that you had quirked your brow at the sound, "I find y/n to be quite exciting."

"Exciting?" Cassian moved to Feyre and asked the same question, his manhood decaying when she too said that you didn't scare her, "Mor?"

The blonde who could not rival your beauty had always watched you from afar, and had always enjoyed how you made males squirm. Mor rose her glass to the stars and stated, "Bring every man you meet to their motherfucking knees, y/n."

"Amen to that," Amren tipped her glass in response, downing the rest of the thick red sap and finally feeling at home in the presence of her family thanks to you, and she eternally thanked the male sat beside you for being able to breathe some light into the storm cloud that was your mind.

"Mother above," Rhys grumbled, the women in his life uniting and itching to wreck havoc. The action of Rhys swiping his hand down his face, dragging the skin slightly toward in frustration, made a deep chuckle float from your lips, so serene that Nesta likened the sound to a siren call and found herself drawn to it. "Did I just make you laugh?" Rolling your eyes, you nodded at the High Lord who turned toward his mate, "This is the best day of my life," then back to you, "Does this mean that we're friends?"

Rhys waited expectantly, childlike orbs pleading to you with their innocence. You had no friends bar Amren and you were content with that. It meant that you only had one thing to lose. But as Azriel laid his hand on the small of your back, gaining your attention and giving you an expression of promise, the resolve of your solitude cracked, "Why not?"

The door to the River House flew open, a sudden shrill chill soaring through the air from the wild winds battering against the city, no doubt spurred on by your fury.

Many months had passed, and in that time you had truly blossomed, sure you still wore the mask of the devil on your features in public, but when you were with the Inner Circle, a group of people you now proudly belonged to, that mask drifted away like ash in the autumn breeze; and when Azriel was beside you, it felt as though warmth and happiness was all that you ever knew.

Much to Elain's upset, you and Azriel had officially accepted the bond and had locked yourselves away for four weeks to make the most out of every single moment together, and Rhys had been understanding enough of the bond between you both to not drag your mate away on another mission. The bond between you and Azriel was something that Rhys had never seen before, not even between him and Feyre.

"She tastes like every dark thought I've ever had."

The ceremony itself had been astonishing.

The women of the Inner Circle had spent the better part of two days dressing your apartment for the occasion and Feyre had made it quite clear that the upcoming ceremony was going to make theirs look ridiculous in comparison. Rhys was split between jealousy and awe when he saw it.

No one had ever stepped into the apartment beside Amren and Azriel, he had decided to move into the apartment after your return from the four-week sabbatical at the cabin, it was as though you were gifting them with the last part of you, allowing them to see what they could never fathom.

Faelights were strewn across the ceiling, curling around the arched windows that displayed the golden valley of the city in a way Rhys had never been able to appreciate before; tucked between the vines of the lights was fresh foliage, an array of green hue ferns caressing fully blossomed white roses and pale blue peonies. Sprigs of cedar and rosemary had been wove between the foliage and flowers alongside splinters of sandalwood, filling the room with the physical aspects of your scents.

Only the Inner Circle had been invited, and as you were dressing in your room with Amren, you could hear Nesta whining of her foolish jealousy of having to watch Azriel marry you. Amren had simply raised a brow and smirked at you through the mirror as she finished securing your veil to the back of your head.

There was no one you would want to share the moment with other than her.

Amren had blindfolded you, leading you through the home so that the gift wouldn't be ruined just so that you could get ready together, for the most important and deserving night of your life.

The dress that you had meticulously chosen was the most incredible garment Amren had ever seen, so much so that the first time you had tried it on in front of her, she had nearly cried at the beauty of it; and there you now stood, twisting in the mirror and running your hands down the hem of your veil and then your hips. The dress was made entirely of white lace that you had imported from the Day Court, an off-the-shoulder neckline and sleeves that kissed your wrists, it was elegant and graceful, and made the freckles of your trauma glow like shooting stars.

A gentle knock had sounded at the door and Rhys stepped in, taking one look at you and finding his breath catching in his throat. "You look amazing," he breathed, approaching you with his hands deep within his pockets.

The High Lord had been honoured when you had sheepishly asked him to walk you down the aisle; Rhys had found himself consumed with the need to protect you, after seeing your guard disappear, he saw who you truly were, a woman who just wanted to be loved and protected, and ready to allow other people to do it for her after spending so long doing it herself.

"Are you ready?" Inhaling deeply, you nodded and turned to him, noting the outstretched hand before you and feeling your usual anxiety bubbling in your gut. Rhys, realising that he shouldn't have done something so bold, went to retreat but halted when you took a small step toward him, reaching your fingers out to his palm and sliding them into his grasp.

Azriel was right, your skin was a smooth as honey.

A gentle smile of triumph later, you spoke, "I'm ready."

It was that moment that Rhys was begging you to remember as you barrelled through his house, no doubt heading straight for him in the confinements of his office.

He could feel your anger slam through the walls, your footsteps sounding up the staircase and stopping at the top of the hall, a pause to remember just how much you liked him before stalking down the hall and bursting into his office. Rhys cringed, knowing what was coming as you strode to his desk and slapped your palms flat against the wood.

"If you ever," you pointed your perfectly manicured finger in his face, "Send my mate back to me in that state again. I. Will. Destroy. You."

The snarl of your words sent a shiver coursing down his spine, and in that moment you were the y/n he had met one-hundred years ago. Cold. Distant. Almost demonic.

In his defence, he hadn't sent Azriel on an overly dangerous mission, it wasn't his fault that his Spymaster was ambushed in The Middle. Azriel's spilled blood was entirely his own fault in Rhys' eyes, "I didn't mean for him to get hurt, y/n."

The rushed footsteps of another sounded in the hall, and when Rhys looked past your deeply heaving form, he was relieved beyond compare when he saw a bruised Azriel approaching, "Angel, it wasn't his fault. I was distracted," his voice grew louder as he paced closer to the pair of you, appearing at your side and turning your head in his fingers to face him, "I was thinking about you and I didn't hear them coming."

Watching your shoulders drop, Rhys sighed and wiped away an invisible bead of sweat from his brow, sitting back down and continuing his viewing just as you tilted your head to the side and popped out your bottom lip.

"You were?" Azriel's eyes softened and he dipped his gaze to meet yours, "That's the most romantic thing you've ever done. You were attacked because you were thinking about me, you actually bled because you were thinking about me?"

Rhys could only watch on perplexed at your words, you threw yourself into Azriel's arms, muttering small apologies for brushing against the bruises littering his abdomen, "She's crazy."

The Shadowsinger could only huff, too entrapped by you to really reprimand him, "Yeah," his eyes opened lazily, brimming with exhaustion, "But she's my crazy."

Azriel's shadows curled over your shoulders and shuddered, crying to be as close to you as possible, like they were trying to entwine with your soul so that you one day may carry them with you wherever you walked. In whatever world.

A bond like yours was made to topple temples and shatter worlds, it was made to transcend time and space; and as you wrapped an arm around your mate and led him from the office, not without sending one more warning glare to the male you had come to love as a brother, Rhys knew that no matter where either of you went, there would be no place that you could travel to where the other would not follow.

Author’s Note

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[serpentface]

GUARDIAN LIONS

An Odomache guardian lion cult statue (alabaster with gold plating and inlaid pearl and lapis lazuli), of the curved-reposed maned lioness variant.

Guardian lions are a Wardi architectural/artistic motif that confers protective benefits to the buildings or utilitarian objects on which they are placed. The practice of artworks depicting lions as place-guardians long predates the Faith of the Seven Faced God, and has been translated into contemporary practice as aspects of the Face Odomache.

This Face has core functions as a representation of sovereignty and military might, but additionally is interpreted as both a protective patriarch and nurturing mother to Its people. Lions represent this function well, as a powerful and venerated animal capable of both tremendous ferocity and gentleness (these functions combined in their renowned fierce protection of their own cubs).

Guardian lions come in three distinct sex variants, which impart different meanings.

Male guardian lions most typically are used to represent the Patriarch Odomache, the Face as a divine father that watches over the collective household of Its people. This iconography is most common in architectural guardian lions placed upon homes, as a representative of the father's intended function as the protector and arbiter of his family. They effectively 'guard' the culturally important private familial sphere, with their presence being a reminder to potential trespassers (literal and figurative) that retribution will be severe.

Maneless guardian lionesses are used to represent Odomache as a protector of pregnant women and children, in a form that suggests both an underlying ferocity and a feminine ideal of gentle nurturing. These are less common than the other variants, and mostly appear on smaller art and ritual objects used in conjunction with pregnancy and childrearing. Their most prominent core use is being a standard decoration on the carved ox horns used by midwives to bear oil (anointed upon mothers and newborns) and to pass over women in labor for spiritual protection. They're also common as small art objects or toys for babies and young children.

Maned guardian lionesses express a totality of these functions. Core depictions of the Face Odomache usually use a maned lioness, with the androgyny unifying Its functions as the Patriarch and the nurturing mother into a protective guardian mother to the collective people. These depictions have ubiquitous uses (the only context you Rarely see them in are as household guardians), and are the typical variant seen in important public spaces, and standard as cult statues to Odomache.

The guardian lion is a very old motif with regional variants, and comes in a variety of stylistic forms. There is very little standardization to the style (with some standardized elements only just beginning to develop in cult objects in recent history). However, there are very well-established conventions for the lion's posture that often distinguishes these guardian figures from non-functional, generic lion art, and imply more specified meanings.

STANDARD POSTURES:

Nursing lioness:

Glazed pottery nursing lioness. This is a decorative art object with guardian functions, likely to be placed near a child's bed.

The lion is at rest, belly turned out to the side to expose teats (occasionally accompanied by suckling cubs). Some unique variants are partially anthropomorphized, placing humanoid breasts in the chest area (rather than the more typical anatomically accurate teats). The posture is relaxed but alert, and will be positioned so that the face looks upon the point of approach. This pose is almost exclusively used for guardian lions as protectors for children, displaying a fierce animal mother figure in an entirely gentle, nurturing form.

Reposed:

Unpainted stone statue of a reposed male lion.

The lion is at rest. There is little active threat in its pose, instead invoking a relaxed, self-assured guardian. This motif appears often in non location-specific decoration or general public spaces.

Curved reposed:

Sketch of the curved-reposed alabaster maned lioness as seen from above, as it would appear in a temple shrine. A bowl is placed for libations, a tray for small offerings of flowers and grain.

The lion is at rest, with its front positioned to confront the viewer while the length of its body is simultaneously visible. It is a relaxed pose in a resting position, but the body's contortion makes it more confrontational towards onlookers, suggesting that a cautious and humble approach is necessary. This is most common in cult statues (where offerings will be placed along the length of its body).

Seated:

Seated Loberan house statue guardian, painted stone.

The lion is seated on its haunches, suggesting watchful alertness and an implied threat, but that the animal is secure in its strength and at rest. This type is the most common as an architectural feature for homes, representing patriarchal guardianship of the family and the domestic sphere within. This pose is almost always male, with very occasional maned lioness variants.

Standing/Striding:

Painted marble statue showing a standing/striding maned lioness. The statue is three dimensional with its sides carved in high relief; the pose will appear to be static when viewed from the front, and is mid-stride from the sides. The tail between the legs is unusual for a guardian lion motif and its placement is entirely due to the physical restrictions of this statue's form.

The lion is standing at attention or depicted mid-stride (often both simultaneously), suggesting readiness to strike. This confers a sense active protection and intimidation, and most often appears flanking the entrance in high status public spaces like temples and palaces. As a person approaches a standing+striding variant, they are greeted with a static front staring them down, and the lion appears to walk as they pass, suggesting they have entered an important space being guarded with high alertness- they can feel safe under its active protection (or know that it can and will (figuratively) come after them if they are a trespasser).

Conquering:

An oil lamp depicting a conquering maned lioness. The trampled figure's nudity in this context codifies him as a 'barbarian', while the artificially lengthened skull and long beard distinctly identifies him as a Finn king. This is a piece in the ancient artistic tradition known as 'seething and coping'.

The guardian lion stands over and/or actively tramples a prone form, usually human. It shows the conclusion of the guardian lion's function- the defeat and subduing of a threatening enemy. This enemy figure will often be expressed as a generic 'barbarian' (usually coded via nudity) or representing a specific population by depicting recognizable (real or imagined) practices of dress and adornment. Animals sometimes appear as 'enemies' instead, which can vary depending on the purpose- a dog (generally disliked animal) casts the enemy figure as pathetic and easily destroyed, a king hyena or crocodile (respected/feared large predators) casts the enemy as powerful but overcome by greater might.

This motif most often occurs in art used in state/military contexts (where it quite literally shows an embodiment of the state trampling a foreign enemy to death), but is used in everyday objects as well. The 'enemy' figure (whether a human caricature or an animal) can represent any number of threats perceived by an everyday person - bad luck, curses, a hated neighbor, thieves, livestock predators - and conveys a guardian spirit overcoming these threats.

[juliewillruinu]

"One Last Time" | Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Pov: You're being married off by your clan which caused you to distance yourself from Toji, but how will you react to finding out he is also being arranged to marry another woman?

18+ MDNI

Dom Toji x fem!reader, smut, P in V, no protection, overflowing cum, slight degrading, cheating (kinda, but not really), ass smacking, and a bit of fingering. (I do not own the artwork above.)

You promised yourself you wouldn't see him again. That your eyes would never meet his.

You promised yourself that you'd live a good life without him. You didn't need him any longer.

You promised yourself to do what was best for your clan. They were your priority.

You promised yourself that you'd be happy with your future husband. You'd learn to love him.

You smiled whenever someone mentioned the name of your fiance, a man, not named Toji. A man you've never met in person. You'd tell them, "I know I'll be happy with him. I've heard so many good things about him."

Everything was sunshine and rainbows until you heard the news that Toji was to be marry into another clan. You acted as if you were fine with it but you were not. Toji was yours. Your family could sell you off to another clan all they wanted, but to know that while you were gone another woman would keep him company, take over your role in his life, it saddened you, it pissed you off, it made you want to strangle yourself. You spent nights crying yourself to sleep. What were you going to do? Was there anything you could do? You could only choose family or love. In this time and age, you couldn't dare have both.

You promised yourself you'd never let his skin grace yours again.

Yet, here you are. Crying in Toji's arms, your face buried in the crook of his neck as his back is rested against the wall of your room. He entered carefully and quietly through your window. He heard how you shut yourself away recently, he knew why. He knew he had to comfort you. One last time.

You told him, "I can be without you, Toji."

"You told me you didn't need me."

You pulled away to bore your red orbs into his and spoke hastily. "I lied! I do need you so don't marry that woman. Don't hurt me like this anymore."

Toji yanked your chin, drawing your face close to his. In that moment, you saw an intensity in his eyes that was unlike anything you had ever witnessed before. His usual demeanor, so often marked by indifference and a seemingly impenetrable exterior, was shattered. The anger and vulnerability in his gaze revealed a depth of emotion you had never seen in him.

He had always seemed untouchable, as though nothing could truly affect him. But now, with you so close, everything was different. You were the only person who had ever seen beyond his Zenin lineage, who had looked at him not as a member of a powerful clan but simply as Toji. The memory of your words, "You're not a Zenin to me. I see you as just Toji," echoed in his mind, a poignant reminder of the rare connection you shared.

"You're not the only one who feels hurt by this. Do you think I like the idea of another man having his lips against yours?" His lips were dangerously close to yours. It made you shiver in anticipation. "Do you think I want him to touch what is mine? Just knowing you'll spend your wedding night with him makes me want to rip his head off. I can't let you go like that."

"Then don't." You said almost pleading. "Don't let him take me away, Toji."

"Do you think he could fuck you this good, huh? I know all your weak spots. He'd be an amateur compared to me. Don't you think?"

"...yes, yes, yes..."

Your moans filled the room as you watched how mercilessly Toji was fucking you through your vanity mirror. His eyes scrunched close as his hand held one of your wrists down and held your hand in his other. His large, vainy cock had you stretched out, vigorously entering to hit your vulnerable spots and your insides, sucking him right back in when he pulled back. Sweat glistened off both your bodies as the force he was using was causing your bed to shake. The heavy storm outside kept your screams from being heard by the servants who might be walking around during these late hours. Toji kept his promise when he told you that'd he'd fuck you so hard you wouldn't be able to get out of bed for your wedding.

Red love bites were left on your neck and breasts while you returned the favor by leaving faint scratch marks on his chest and back and teeth marks on his shoulders.

You hissed as Toji's tip pounded against the one spot you enjoyed the most. You were close again. Just a little longer and you'd melt for him again. Toji must have gotten the message as his eyes fluttered open before making contact with yours through the mirror. You could see a mischievous smirk grow on his face. He could feel your insides slowly clamping down on his cock, almost ready to rip it off him.

"Who gave you permission to come yet?" Before you had a chance to answer, Toji had already pulled his cock out causing a slight "pop" noise to occur. His cum from previous rounds began to ooze out of you now that there wasn't anything to keep it inside. It practically left you whining.

"Don't take it out. I was s'close."

"Naughty girl, you have no shame do you? Tomorrow you'll be someone's wife and here you are drooling for your lovers cock?"

He took his teasing further and inserted his index finger which he pumped back and forth against your walls. He wouldn't even give you at least two fingers, not that it would have been enough to help you finish, but it would give much better results than one finger and Toji knew this well.

"Toji, put it back in...please."

"Do you want it that bad?" You nodded frantically. "Then go ahead take it. Milk it, make yourself cum on it, but you'll be the one doing all the work."

You sat up seeing Toji lay his scratched back against the bed before getting on top of him with your shaking legs. You weren't used to being on top and his posture made it seem as if he'd have you do all the work, but you didn't mind. If he was allowed to prove to you that no man could fuck you the way he could, it was only right to prove to him that no woman would ever be good enough for him unless it was you.

One of his hands traveled up your thigh, fingers caressing your supple skin while the other attempted to align his cock to your entrance. His hand went to your hips, ready to help ease you down on it only to be met by your boldness as you slammed yourself down on his thick length. He threw his head back, grunting as your insides molded around him perfectly causing his cock to pulsate in excitement. His large hands gripped each side of your bum, begging for you to move already. You placed your hands on his toned stomach to keep yourself balanced and began to move up and down. You took your precious time, taking it nice and slow. Toji shouldn't be the only one allowed to tease.

"What do you think you’re doing?"

"Teaching you a lesson from earlier."

"Ah!"

He growled giving your ass a hard smack that left a burning sensation, "don't be a brat."

'You're the one acting like one,' you said to yourself before you picked up the pace. Each time you move down his cock the skin of your bum and his shaft made loud slapping noises that left his gulping.

"Fuck, just like, princess. So fucking tight. You like that don't you?"

You met another slap on your ass when you didn't respond fast enough.

"Yes! It's the best, Toji! It's so fucking good!"

The bed creaked underneath the both of you, his cock hitting every spot imaginable. You could feel his cock start to swell, he was close just as were you. He pulled you down against his chest, wrapping a arm around you waist to keep you attached to him while his other hand pushed down on your bum as he jerks his hips up. There's no doubt about it. You were so cock drunk that even your moans sounded incoherent. It felt like your mind was elsewhere while the center of your stomach tightened.

His hot breath brushed against your skin, "Tell me who you love. Come on, tell me, little whore."

"You! I love you! Fuck, Toji. I love you." He hungrily smashed his lips against yours giving you no time to breathe. His tongue wrestling against yours, seeking for its submission to him. You fisted at the pillows near his head as his cock was destroying your insides. Your thoughts only focused on Toji as he nipped at your bottom lip.

"I can't hold it anymore~"

"Fuck, me too. Come on, princess. Give it to me and I'll reward you."

Toji, in the throes of passion, drives his hips firmly against you one last time. His release is powerful, filling you with a warm, thick sensation as his cum spreads inside you. You feel him pulse and release, the heat and pressure intensifying as he finishes.

As he remains inside you, the sensation of his cum beginning to overflow adds a heightened sense of fullness. Your body responds instinctively, your lower body jolting slightly as the sensation of his release overwhelms you. The tightness in your stomach starts to ease, replaced by a warm, satisfying relaxation.

•••

You and Toji laid sideway near each other, your bodies hidden underneath the silk sheets. You could feel his warm lips press against your head as you buried your face in his chest. His strong hand move up and down your back. His touch, his scent his breathing, they were all so comforting. How could you possible live without this man?

"Toji, let's run away. Tonight. Just me and you. Let's never come back here." Your spoke with a straight face, Toji rested his chin over your head, chuckling at your serious tone.

"What about your clan, hmm?"

"..Screw them.."

[neurospiczzzziee]

Blitzø is actually really good at Art

From an Art Educator Perspective

Okay so I saw some posts on Blitzø actually really enjoying art and that being his passion other than horses. I don't know if in the fandom we have had this consensus or if this is a hot take on my part, but Blitzø is actually really good at drawing.

You may ask why I know this and why I am so confident?

My credibility: I literally specialize in it.

I am a professional artist. I am a High School Art Teacher, who got their degree in art education and attended a well acclaimed art school.

(Self-taught artists are extremely valid and you do not need to go to art school to be an "actual artist". I am bringing up my background to show that I have a lot of knowledge of the development of fine motor skills and the ranges of art abilities and how to further improve them.)

As an educator, if Blitzø was a student and I saw Blitzø's drawings/doodles I would automatically recognize that he was actually advanced in abilities. Based on looking at his drawings I can tell if he were to actually take his time and focus on something he could create really beautifully detailed/rendered artwork.

You may ask how I know this??? I'm glad you asked.

THE AMOUNT OF LINE QUALITY THAT IS DEMONSTRATED IN BLITZØ'S DRAWINGS IS INSANE.

✨Art Lesson time✨

Okay so everyone learning to draw goes through the necessary stages of development

I'm just going to give humans as an example because obviously this is a fictional demon we are talking about.

Generally everyone goes through these stages as they grow and work on learning to draw. (Prodigies are extremely rare and I've only seen one once)

Art skills are like a sport. You need to train in order to develop fine motor abilities and control in your hands. The more you draw and do art the more you gain control of your muscles. It takes a lot of time and years of work to improve.

When a person's fine motor skills aren't as developed their lines tend to be shaky and they have less control. The more a person draws the better their line control becomes.

(Think of when you were little and you were first learning how to write)

The way I can tell how advanced Blitzø is, is through his line quality.

Now what is Line Quality?

This is a screenshot from this wonderful article

So in Blitzø's artwork he very much illustrates good Line control, force, thickness, and fluidity.

Okay first of all I want to Mention

THAT BLITZØ IS DRAWING IN PEN. You can tell this because different parts of the Calendar are crossed out with his scribbles. Also anybody with a calendar knows you have to write with a pen.

LOOK AT HOW CLEAN, FLUID AND CONFIDENT THESE LINES ARE DESPITE THAT HE IS DRAWING IN PEN!???

My assumption is that Blitzø is not using a reference for these drawings. You could make the argument that he has photos for M&M, Loona, and Stolas; however, he definitely does not have a photo of Striker.

I want to mention how dynamic of a pose he is drawing people in. He isn't avoiding hands at all. All of the hands are relatively accurate (Strikers especially).

In these drawings you see variation in line weight meaning parts of his lines are thicker to thinner. So Blitzø is purposely pressing harder and lighter to show variation and depth. His lines are very clean. I don't see repetitive Stokes and lines for the shapes. He is really confident with his mark making and you can tell because his lines aren't shaky at all.

By looking at his line quality and how clean it is you can tell he drew it quickly.

Not to mention he actually has a huge range of items he can draw confidently including and not limited to horses, weapons, leashes, cars, demons, and of course genitalia.

Blitzø isn't what you call a one trick pony 🐴 when it comes to what he can draw.

You can see this skill demonstrated in his other doodles.

You can even see this ability demonstrated in his drawings on the whiteboard

Okay anybody who has drawn on a whiteboard knows that they are difficult to draw on.

Whiteboards smear and are very streaky. In this photo you can tell where Blitzø made a mistake or changed information. Notice that none of his drawings have any smears. That means he did these drawings in literally one take.

I also want to mention his drawings in spring breakers. He is speed drawing directions and illustrating a plan perfectly to his employees.

HE IS LITERALLY RAPID FIRE SPEED DRAWING HERE

His drawing of Veroskika which he DREW FROM MEMORY.

Demonstrates the following:

Line control, Line Confidence, Line Fluidity, Variation in Line weight, and still has relatively correct proportions!?

Basically shut up MOXIE?!!! He did a good job!

Why have we not seen more detailed Blitzø artwork?

Okay so I as we know in the show Blitzø puts his doodles everywhere. So if he is good at Art why isn't he showing his artwork he spent a long time on????

The answer: he's insecure

Showing someone your art is a very vulnerable action. This is especially true if you spent a long time on it.

If someone doesn't like or makes fun of your doodle you can brush it off and be like well it's only a sketch and I did it in under 5 min.

It's a lot easier to show someone a silly little horse drawing you did than something you poured your heart and soul into.

We already are aware that Blitzø is insecure and has self-esteem issues. He literally covers his face in the photos of himself throughout his apartment. He is a very guarded individual. Of course he wouldn't show people the art he spent hours on. What if people reject them? They judge him for spending that much time? What if they see how much he actually loves them?

Blitzø feels like the kind of person who would crumple up or destroy his art that he spends long amounts of time on. It's a way of self-sabotaging yourself and further self-loathing.

Now do I think he has these hours long art pieces/drawings????

ABSOLUTELY

My guess is that Blitzø most likely has a hidden sketchbook. Artists tend to draw their loved ones and especially their children and partners.

There is no doubt in my mind that Blitzø hasn't been doing long observational drawings of Stola's especially when he is sleeping.

He has most likely been drawing Loona all the time. Why do you think he takes all the photos? Those are his references. He has probably been drawing detailed artwork of his loved ones this whole time (and of course horses too lol).

In conclusion

Blitzø actually can draw really well because his doodles demonstrate high levels of skill in line quality.

Going forward I would really appreciate if someone actually finds Blitzø's sketchbook or portfolio of his artwork he spent large amounts of time on. It would be really cute. It would be adorable if Loona or Stolas found them.

Blitzø could gain more confidence and put is artwork he really cares about on display 🥺

I also just want Moxie to find out and eat his words. (Guys I swear I don't hate Moxie 😂)

Thank you for joining me here today on my Ted talk on how I think Blitzø is actually a talented artist. I'm just an art teacher who has problems with how much helluva boss lives in rent free in my head.