#Ayla's Theme | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

toodelusionalforreality · 1 month ago

Text

Azriel x OC | Chapter 8

Vice

Both his brothers are mated. Both his brothers are happily in love. But after five centuries of rejection, Azriel doesn’t hope for such luxury in his life. When he meets the bar owner who is too mysterious even for the spymaster to decipher, his intrigue turns into more. Lines between mystery and secret blur. The closer he gets to her, the more his instincts warn him to stay away.

Previous Chapter: Sinner

Word count: ~4k Warning: Mentions of Blood. Mild Torture. Hints of Stalking. [PLOT]

A/N: This is an experimental piece of work. I'm testing a writing style, so feedback is welcome. I'll be adding another tag to from now on. Chapters that include interaction between Azriel and Ayla will have ROMANCE, irrespective of the theme in them, and the rest, PLOT. So you can pick and choose whichever you want to read. This one needs major editing but editing is hard. Hope you still enjoy it.

The beats thrummed through the wood beneath his feet, through the velvet cushion against his wings, and through his very skin. Empty laughter and delirious cries filled the brief, fleeting silences. Globes of lights swirled and shimmered close to the ceiling, their harsh glares coasting over the upper landing where the private booths were situated. The red carpets were too bright, the air too thick, the liquor too strong. Everything that made Rita’s a beacon to the souls who longed for a taste of nightlife.

Yet, the true temptation was across the room. A beaded curtain at the entrance wavered—red flashing behind, like the maw of a beast waiting for its prey to walk right into its belly. Outside, there was no limitation or restriction. Males and females indulged in vices and each other to their hearts’ content. Even so, what lay beyond that veil was far more enticing. Drunk on liquor and lust, it wasn’t a mystery what transpired. It wasn’t merely the pleasure of the body these souls sought. The allure of secrecy and the courage it granted them to explore their urges and unleash their darkness, test it, and perhaps, tame it. Azriel should know, for he had been behind those locked doors a few times himself.

A cheer rumbled through the air sending the shadows wrapped around him in skitters. Azriel took a deep breath. Sweat, smoke, and sex—the stench he once was accustomed to, he now despised with his being.

‘Staring a little early, are we?’ asked Cass, as if he weren’t filling a glass to the brim himself. Though Azriel ignored his smug face, he couldn’t disagree, after all, this was the only thing that numbed his ache.

‘Let me guess,’ said Rhys, ‘Our weaponsmith is being. . .difficult again?’

Our.

Azriel gritted his teeth at how easily the word fell off his lips. He should have known. As he left the House of Wind, Cass gave him a monstrous grin, and no sooner had he found a booth his friends settled on either side, trapping him. For a moment, he considered disappearing amidst the crowd, but one look at the bodies writhing against each other rather obscenely and the decision was made.

Rita’s didn’t hold the same appeal anymore. The fifty years Rhys was. . .gone had changed their lives. They were neither young nor reckless, no matter how much Mor played pretend. While Cass preferred the nights in River House so Nesta spent her evenings with her sisters than in a bar, Rhys would have his wings nailed than spend a day away from his son. And lately, he rarely touched his precious whiskey.

Now, as the two sat beside him giving up everything they had built in the past years only for his company, fear began to unfurl in the depths of his heart.

Azriel glanced across the room again.

A harsh thump broke their silence as Cass set his glass down, ‘Are you sure you want to add one more to that list?’

As fortune would have it, his family overheard his conversation with Ayla three months ago. Azriel knew this day was coming—when the two taunted him as though they hadn’t watched their mates fuck another. He had at least hoped to be drunk enough. Pity, he wasn’t.

Rhys arched his brow. Amusement shone in his eyes. ‘Don’t tell me she is going ahead with it.’

‘I won’t.’ Azriel surveyed the faces of the passersby who gawked at them. The High Lord and his Illyrian General drew too much attention. Shadows enveloped him once again as soon as another flare swept away from the booth. ‘Are you done discussing my sex life?’

‘Sure, if you had one.’ Cass clasped his hands on the table, raising his voice over the steady beats. ‘How long has it been? Four months?’

Six. He couldn’t imagine touching or being touched by anyone but his mate since the bond. Not that he minded the celibacy, but when every inch of his skin ached and that familiar fire burned through his veins, he knew it had to be her.

Seeing that male with her, Azriel solaced himself with petty hope—a male a day and Ayla would free him of this torment soon. But, she was vicious. She savoured this twisted game of hers. Months passed, three, and so was the count of chosen victors to claim her.

Had it been someone else, Azriel would have dragged her into that office, and kissed that smirk off her lips while he sank his fingers into her warmth. Had it been someone else, he would have toyed with her until she begged him to take her.

‘It’s concerning you know that. Aren’t you too invested?’ Rhys’s voice broke the spell of his fantasy. A smirk tugged at his lips.

‘Not when he’s taking it out on me every morning,’ grumbled Cass.

Rhys grinned. ‘It certainly helps your case when you put it like that.’

Laughter began in Azriel’s throat, cutting off into a gasp as a shudder rolled under his skin. He sank back into the cushions, pinched his eyes closed, and tuned out the pounding in his ears. His legs shifted on their own, spreading wide to relieve some tension.

‘Remind me, Az,’ Rhys was staring at him. His eyes carried a glint. Somehow he knew yet he pressed, ‘Did you also tell her what you did to the females you took to your bed?’

Azriel managed to chuckle. ‘Why, are you looking for notes to please Feyre?’

‘I’m not the one a breath away from pleasuring myself with an audience.’

‘Fuck you,’ spat Azriel.

‘Believe me,’ Rhys purred, ‘I’m sorted for tonight.’

Cass laughed loud enough to cut through the wails of delight from below. A wave of shadows knocked the glass from his hand, and before it did the same to Rhys’s, a cloud of starry night blocked its path. Bastards, both of them were.

Wiping a tear from his eye—there clearly was none—and with a cruel smile on his face, Cass said, ‘Did you try talking to her?’

‘That’s what got him here,’ said Rhys. ‘I wouldn’t recommend it again.’

Azriel ran a hand through his hair. For centuries, he managed to keep his life private and with one conversation, he had become the ridicule of his family. If Nyx could talk, Azriel was certain he would taunt him too.

His breaths laboured. A myriad of emotions smothered every bit of his senses. Jealousy for the male who had the honour of coaxing moans from her lips. Longing to be the one witnessing her consumed by ecstasy. Yearning to touch and savour every inch of her body. Shadows crept up his arms but they refused to sing, a mild comfort for they didn’t narrate his embarrassment.

‘Do you need the booth to yourself?’ asked Rhys, prying him away from his agony.

Azriel glared at his stupid smirk. ‘Can’t suck me off anymore?’

Rhys’s response was lost on him as another shiver raked through his body. This was a mistake. He should have stayed in the House of Wind, far away from this square.

‘Ayla?’

No one dared utter her name in his vicinity. Hearing it, even in his prick of a brother’s voice, sounded like a symphony.

‘You sense her,’ said Rhys carefully. His words were more surprised than guarded. He nudged Azriel’s glass closer, the drink still untouched.

‘I don’t.’

The two fell silent at his harsh tone.

Light shifted across the room, fleeting over a movement deep in the hallway. A male walked out through the curtain adjusting the lapels of his tunic. Its intricate gold threadwork, the glinting gems on his fingers, and the delicate red scarf wrapped loosely around his neck were enough indication of which part of the city he was from. He made a desperate effort to tidy his hair, glancing around before he headed for the main doors.

Noting his stare, Cass shook his head, ‘It’s a bad idea.’

‘Is it?’ Rhys grinned watching the empty doorway. ‘His mate is having her fill, why shouldn’t he?’ He shot a wink at Azriel, ‘I’m sure this will win her over after that talk about his conquests.’

If his words were meant to unnerve him, Rhys succeeded. His life sounded pathetic, more so than he felt.

Ignoring Cass's curses to come back, Azriel left the booth making sure to land a kick to Rhys's leg on his way out.

The chill in the night breeze was a soothing balm even before he stepped out. The aroma of charring meat and herbs from the stalls on either side of the pathway sweetened the air. Quiet murmurs replaced the pulsing rhythm behind the closed doors. But Azriel was the most grateful for the dull lights marking the way.

He navigated through the ambling crowd clapping his wings close and his shadows shaded them from curious eyes. Even in a city like Velaris, an Illyrian was still an oddity. Fortunately, Rhys and Cass didn’t pursue him this time. He wondered if they had also followed him on his little detour before he came to Rita’s.

The path ahead forked into two and Azriel slowed his pace, waiting for signs of his friends for another minute. Darkness wreathing around him swallowed every sound, including the fall of his footsteps. As he turned around the building, he tamed his powers dimming the glow of his siphons to a lingering hue.

Moonlight barely illuminated the alley. Red tassels rustled in the stillness. Gravel crunched beneath unsteady feet. The stranger halted and looked over his shoulder, his breath quickening. ‘Is anyone here?’ His words echoed.

Silence answered him, except for the distant melody from the streets.

His eyes darted around lingering on the unlit corners. His shoulders fell. Sighing heavily, the male faced forward only to meet a whorling darkness. He staggered back.

‘They are harmless,’ Azriel whispered into his ear.

With a gasp, the stranger twisted around. Before another sound could escape his parted lips, shadows slid into his mouth. He griped at his throat clawing through his skin to rid of the hollow choking him.

Azriel inched forward. ‘It won’t kill you,’ he said, his voice as gentle as the breeze that drifted past them. ‘But you might want to stop resisting.’

Tears pooled in the corner of his grey eyes as the male let out a strangled cry.

Slowly, Azriel eased his dagger from its sheath making a show for his captive. In moments like these, he preferred the recognition; he didn’t have to imply the consequences. ‘As long as you’re honest. . .you’re safe.’

Shadows rose around them into rippling walls. The male, still clutching his throat, backed away, searching for a way out. When he found none, he nodded.

‘What do you want from her?’

Dark mist sputtered from his mouth. He tried again and again, and with each wasted attempt, his breaths grew ragged and his cries louder. Tears spilt from his eyes freely, and yet, Azriel simply watched.

Pathetic.

When the whispers first reached him, Azriel assumed him to be one of the recent lovers returning for more. He dived into his work, taking on missions in Hewn City on those nights. Days away from Ayla cleared the fog in his mind, however slowly. He had called off his spies long ago and diverted them to other tasks, the ones they were paid for. Still, reports from the borders poured in and among them was the list of travellers to the city. It brought a jolting awareness to the threat Azriel had been so glad to trade for his lovelorn ache.

It worsened when his shadows returned frantic one night, hissing about a “suspicious male”. Whenever Ayla was concerned, Azriel learned to not trust the shadows anymore. Everything he did was wrong, everything he said was wrong.

Although, curiosity was a curse and Azriel was born cursed in more ways than one.

The one in question was tall and muscled, mildly tanned and dark-haired—exactly how his mate preferred her males. There was nothing to suspect. Until the wraiths spotted him following Ayla on her way back from her smithy twice.

The suspect often wandered the streets for hours and only visited Pharus when Ayla stayed upstairs and the bar was crowded. He sat at the counter and entertained anyone who kept him company. As the nights drew late, he honed his attention to the tired bartender charming her with his sympathy. That brought him favour from Uri too.

And none of them noticed the unusual shadow cast by the display. A specific bar owner would have, Azriel was certain. What her friends didn't realise was he never needed to be let in.

Then, it started. ‘The owner, she seems lonely.’

Ever so loyal, that was all it took for Uri to defend Ayla. He spared no details—the hag, the shop, and Orvin. Even a “strange prick” at the back of his neck from a rogue shadow couldn’t stop him.

Though, the male remained unsatisfied. ‘Does she live alone?’ ‘Does she travel often?’ ‘Does she get many visitors?’ ‘When is her next trip?’

In four days, he learnt more than Azriel did in his first month. He picked his moments when the server and bartender were likely to spill in their exhaustion. If they turned wary, he would chuckle and a blush would tinge his cheeks. ‘She’s interesting is all.’ He looked more desperate than a lovesick begging for scraps, and yet, Uri looked to Raya with gleeful eyes.

Azriel lost all reservations then. It was his turn to do some learning.

He expected the stranger to meet with his charge when he went to Rita’s. But all he did was drink more, fuck someone in one of the pleasure chambers, and leave.

This Hewn City lowlife was who her friends deemed fit for Ayla. One who saw her, who knew her, and still fucked another in a backroom. One who couldn’t defend himself, who stood frozen in fear and spewed garbles.

Shadows slithered out his mouth and wrapped around his throat in warning.

The male took a gulp of air. ‘I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you!’ His voice grated from the gagging and choking. ‘She approached me. She wouldn’t stop touching me. I vow on my life.’ An eager step forward. ‘I noticed your eyes on her back in the bar. She’s yours! All yours. Take her.’

‘Ayla,’ said Azriel quietly. The shadows mimicked his temper simmering under the surface, barely restrained. ‘You have been following her.’

Realisation set in those grey eyes and fear darkened them. His fingers slackened around his throat. ‘I—I—’

‘Lying won’t help you walk out of here alive.’

‘I don’t know who she is.’

Azriel smiled. ‘Yes, you do.’ He gently took the male’s wrist and coaxed it forward. When he rolled the sleeve up revealing his arm, the male tensed. ‘You lie,’ Azriel brought the Truth-Teller down in a swift, precise flick, ‘I’m forced to hurt you.’

Blood pooled in the groove of his elbow. His breaths quickened as shock cleared and pain set in. His fingers twitched but he couldn’t move them, nor would he feel them.

‘You won’t need a healer. Your body will heal on its own soon. But that’s what makes this convenient.’ Azriel observed, his prey only stared at his frozen arm. ‘I can do this all night and you’ll still live.’ Hopeful eyes shot up. ‘Until I get the truth out of you.’

The male tugged his hand back. A real scream tore from him, though it didn’t live very long in the shadows. With the nerves and sinew damaged, pain exploded down his arm even with the slightest movement. He pressed his fingers under the cut trying to numb himself. The bleeding began to slow. ‘Please,’ he rasped, ‘please. I haven’t done anything wrong.’

Azriel almost felt terrible. Almost. He gripped the blade again. He took all but one breath and his back collided with the cold wall. His wings thrashed and protested in pain.

Violet eyes glowered through dark night and shadows. Azriel snarled. Rhys shoved an arm against his chest pinning him in place.

Azriel looked over Rhys’s shoulder. The stalker had the wits not to scream again. He backed away from the two fighting for dominance, his gaze only on the blade still gleaming with his blood.

Rhys ordered, ‘Leave,’ but he didn’t trust his brother enough to look away.

Shadows barricading the exits thickened and closed in around them. The male didn’t move. For a brief moment, his eyes glazed over and then he took off. And, right before he broke through the wall, he stopped.

‘Leave.’

His body struggled against Rhys’s command. ‘She told me to,’ the male said, turning around. His eyes were only on Azriel. ‘She wa—She wants to know a—a—about that one.’

Azriel pushed at Rhys. ‘Let him talk.’

‘It’s not me.’

’Sh—’ The male continued, not caring for the words of the other two. ‘She’s waiting.’

‘Who?’ Azriel demanded. ‘Where is she?’

The male blinked. ‘She misses the sun,’ he sighed, removing the scarf from his neck and mindlessly wrapping it around his wound. ‘She misses life.’ He backed towards the exit and Azriel fought against Rhys’s hold. ‘She likes it here. It’s the only place the roses grow.’

‘Who?’ growled Azriel.

Rhys frowned, ‘There’s nothing in his mind. No memories. No thoughts.’

Azriel froze. It had happened before, only once. ‘The crown?’

Rhys returned his worried gaze, ‘No—’

The stranger broke through the veil, claws made of darkness reached for him. Startled cries filled the air, feet pattered on the cobblestones, wood and metal crashed on the ground.

Stop. Rhys’s voice took an edge in his mind, hardening with the High Lord’s power.

Shadows dispersed and became one with the night leaving an eerie calm behind.

Gone, the word echoed in his ear. Azriel shoved his brother off him. ‘You should’ve stayed out of this,’ he gritted his teeth, running his blood-stained hand through his hair. ‘I had him.’

‘That’s how far you’d have gotten with him. He wasn’t going to talk.’

Azriel steadied his breath. ‘You said he had no thoughts. What did you mean by that?’

‘I don’t know.’ Rhys frowned skyward. It was unlikely of him to admit it so openly. When he had no answer, he preferred silences and riddles. ‘He could speak. He was aware of what was done to him.’

Just another daemati then—however, adept at hiding even from the most powerful one to exist.

‘You need to stay calm.’ Rhys stated with utter lethargy, although his effort to steer the conversation away didn’t go unnoticed.

Azriel scoffed, stepping around him. ‘That’s rich coming from you. Have you forgotten how “calm” you were when Feyre acted as your spy?’

Rhys pursed his lips.

The war revealed their worst parts to them. Breaking the Hybern soldiers wasn’t as yielding as they hoped it to be, but Azriel had been making progress. As days passed and Feyre’s return seemed precarious, Rhys grew tired of waiting. Night after night, he returned to Hewn City. He ignored every warning and tortured the prisoners himself; he didn’t invade their minds, he broke them, limb by limb. Had Azriel not stepped in, they would have been left with no one to interrogate.

Neither spoke of it again. It was a secret the two brothers shared. Only darkness recognised darkness.

‘It’s why I’m warning you. I can’t have my torturer go berserk on me.’ Rhys looked him up and down, his gaze softening, and with a snap of his fingers, the blood from Azriel’s hands vanished. ‘I understand you worry about Ayla—’

‘You understand nothing.’

‘—I have a mate too,’ he said softly. ‘I live with that fear too, Az. Everyday. Feyre and I—we’ve lost and found each other more than once.’

It was not the same; Rhys had a mate to lose.

Pulling a rag from a pocket of shadow, Azriel wiped at the stains on the Truth-Teller instead. He breathed in the stench of blood clinging to the air. It seemed the only constant in his life; it calmed him even. It proved he wasn’t in the waiting. It proved he wasn’t hopeless, useless. He had done something.

‘Fine, what now? Do you intend to carve everyone who looks at her?’

Azriel cast a glance up and lifted a brow. He wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea.

Rhys slipped his hands into his pockets, the portrait of his usual cool. ‘You need to be stealthy. After all, you wouldn’t want her to learn of the bond this way.’ When Azriel’s eyes hardened, a smirk etched onto his face, smug that he had hit the right nerve. ‘That’s twice she’s been targeted now. We need to know what she’s hiding, and you’re the only one she may be inclined to trust.’

His instincts were right. It was for Ayla that the two had been so brotherly. Azriel growled, struggling to keep the bite from his words, ‘You want to use me against my mate?’

‘No,’ Rhys said slowly, ‘I want you to protect your mate. What occurred tonight will ensure whoever is after her knows she is not alone.’ Azriel shoved the dagger into its sheath rather harshly and made to walk past, but Rhys stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. ‘This isn’t about her, Az. You are bound to her.’

Every minute standing in that alley was a wasted moment to find that stalker or the mystery female. Azriel levelled a look at Rhys, ‘You didn’t follow me here out of concern for my mate.’

The hand slipped off him. Rhys poised himself, the softness marking his face and voice vanishing. ‘It’s quiet in the South. It doesn’t look like Tamlin is eager to revive his court anytime soon.’

Guilt filled him briefly, yet Azriel hid it well like everything else. ‘I’ll have someone look into it.’

Rhys frowned, ‘I want you to do it.’

‘My spies are capable of handling this.’

‘You will leave at dawn,’ continued Rhys, ignoring his words and glare, ‘Lucien should be in the mortal lands. Still, I’d suggest you stick to the shadows.’

Azriel stepped closer, ‘You want information,’ his voice as quiet and lethal as his shadows, ‘It doesn’t matter where it comes from.’

‘Need I remind you, shadowsinger, you are my spymaster.’

Dark power skittered over Azriel’s skin. Soothing and ravenous. The longer he resisted, the stronger it suffocated him, snuffing even his shadows out. His body strained against the urge to bow to his High Lord.

Through it all, the vision of that stranger in Pharus filled his mind—smiling at Raya, talking merrily with Uri. Had he run off to the bar again? Ayla was home that night, alone and unaware.

Had the male been instructed to only spy? Was he the only one sent after her?

Azriel’s breath froze, his body grew cold.

Had they been invited into her home already?

Shadows cut through the star-speckled darkness and writhed around him. His wings flared. Rhys’s eyes glimmered with his power, Azriel snarled back and shot to the sky.

#god's game #azriel x ayla #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel angst #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #azriel x oc #azriel acotar #acotar #acotar x oc #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses

40 notes · View notes

lvrlady · 1 month ago

Text

　　•　　　Alien themed NPT ' s!　　　❤︎

Names　:　Cheicha ¹　Merak　Kuiper　Disk　Epoch　Lumine　Muon　Tauri　Aphelion　Nyxie　Mira　Esfir　Avior　Yufo ²　Caph　Pion　Alcyone　Niyr ²　Alteis　Chao, Chaoph ¹　Errai　Lili　Matza　Naos　Danica　Soraya　Ayla　Enfys　Jovian　Pleiad ¹　Lutetia　Hadean　Claudii　Wisteria　Stelae　Kiva　Lethe　Lepton

text ¹　=　Based on stars, but not the same

text ²　=　Stuff I made up 😭

Prns　:　Stae star　Co cos cosmo　Aster astro　Muo moon　Uni universe　Infinite infinities　Co cosmic　Flu flux　Glow glows　Lue lumin　Gleep glorps　Aer aero　Noe nova　More alien prns here (link)!

Titles　:　She who lives among the stars　The supernova　The extraterrestrial girl　The alien on earth　The silliest thing　Her super intelligence　The unknown (girl)　Her infinite existence　The explorer　She of many forms　This creature　Her alien-ish nature　The space girl

Suggested by @smilepilled !!!

All of these names are from various cultures — please research them before use!

for some reason, the link keeps breaking. If you cant see it, theres a different option under the cut </3

https://www.tumblr.com/caninegrove/769617369766281216/𓆩-alien-pronouns-𓆪

#݁　　•　　　　npt　　　　💝#name suggestions #name request #npt blog #npt help #npt ideas #npt list #npt pack #npt set #pronoun suggestions #pronoun ideas #pronoun sets #neoprns #neopronouns #title ideas #title suggestions #name ideas

22 notes · View notes

carline-k · 4 months ago

Text

The One and Only Vampire I Would (not) Faint On

Chrome x F! Commandant.

Synopsis: How are you going to explain to Chrome– who seems to really like his vampire coating– while you are excited for him, that you fear vampires? Can you make an exception for this one vampire to not allow yourself to lose your mind (and consciousness)? Oh, how you wish it would be that easy.

a.n.: Being someone that was wounded by a certain vampire anime “romance” (you know what you are), I must say vampires alert my fight-or-flight LOL. Mainly because of that Nosferatu became my least favorite coating of his, but I still love its design, really (the splash arts on his memories certainly… *nom*. Just thinking about it flutters my heart, again). Legit, it’s now on rerun and I am contemplating whether I should just buy it for his handsome portrait dkadlskadald ;;; Also, this could be just a piece of my oc/chrome stuff but i just want to make it as skk in general.

Art below was commissioned from this artist! @/maltmochie (go check them out!)

Lastly, Happy Halloween and hopefully you have fun reading this!

“Say… do you guys really have no other option for the coating options other than vampire?”

The rustling noise of the paper suddenly stops, replaced by the sound of a cup being lifted, a chugging noise, then a small ‘tack!’ sound produced by the collusion of the cup’s bottom and a certain researcher’s table. A tired gaze stares into the person that just threw the question. ‘A-kind-of silly question’, according to him.

“I beg your pardon?” Asimov says while his hands continue the previous halted move, arranging the stacks of paper that are almost never absent decorate his table. A drawing of a vampire-themed coating, or its proper name “Nosferatu”, is settled between them, but soon gets picked up by you, who is currently sitting right beside him. Your eyes scan the drawing for the ninth time, flying your attention from the drawing board after checking it briefly back to a certain blonde construct who is busy on the other side of the lab, with Ayla checking every inch of his new coating to see if there’s a dent or any places that are still lacking or needing further adjustment. Once again, your eyes land on the drawing board, re-reading the name and the description of the coating.

Nosferatu. Theme: Paradise Lost. Status: Completed, Accepted by the User: Chrome. Description: Drink a glass of redness in the dark night in admiration of all beings. No longer accepted by the light, he will still protect you quietly in the dark.

As much as those description lines send your stomach on somersault due to how romantic it sounds, it is still a weaker feeling compared to what you feel right now. You then look back at Asimov, almost forgetting to answer his previous question if not for the small cough he just let out to grab your attention back to him.

“Hmm, well… Halloween has waaay more varieties of monsters, no? Uhh, for example…” You wave your index finger, thinking hard, trying to come up with a “better” idea, per se. “Demon lord, witches, mages, puppets, grim-reapers, and so on.”

“And a vampire can still be categorized as a creature that is fitting for a spooky event, no?”, he argues back. You internally curse, despite expecting this kind of answer from him. ‘His point is absolutely valid, of course, but…’

“Well, it is. But isn’t it too… cliche and predictable?” a pause, “Corny?”, another pause, “Yeah. It’s totally repetitive and boring!”, you finally exclaimed as you nervously tap the drawing board. For the next whole 15 seconds, both of you suddenly enter what seemingly to be a staring contest, one is waiting for the other party’s response, while the latter is staring in disbelief at how dumb you sound right now. He then breaks the silent first.

"You seem to be bothered by that. Don't tell me…” He leans closer, bringing his face right in front of you as he mutters those words in whispering and low tone, keeping his sharp gaze to you. You instinctively gulp, having a slight suspicion that he already has everything figured out.

“... you are scared of it?"

Like a deer caught in the headlight, you just freeze there, eyes widened, before trying to deny the man’s conclusion as fast as possible to refute his (very true) claim.

"No! No way! What makes you think of that? I – I mean… well, I AM kind of scared, isn't that the whole purpose of a spooky creature? To spook people? Does it not count as a success as it invests fear in me– I mean people?!"

"...sure."

"..."

"So you are scared."

"...yeah."

"But it's Chrome who will be wearing that coating." That sentence alone is enough to spread red color on your cheeks. He knows about your feelings of the blonde construct (a bit too much as you keep babbling about Chrome on him). So much for being one of the close friends of yours since the day you worked with him, or just because he is a great vessel for pouring your heart’s content due to his tight-sealed lips when it comes to personal matters.

"Does that make any difference?" You exhale, slightly pinching the bridge of your nose. Those vampire series “romance” that you watched during your teenage days slowly emerge back in your mind, sending shudders and unpleasant memories. It's unbearable to even watch 30 seconds of the clip of it nowadays. Whoever made that abusive-romance vampire series where they keep sucking the poor girl’s blood and declare that as love, is a totally lunatic– or a masochistic author, to be more precise. Or rather, it's just the fact that it’s just not your cup of tea, but it does become your personal hell nowadays. Everytime you try to overcome it, you feel like you want to sink to the nearest pond to cleanse your soul. You tried many times, only to end up with nightmares later. Does this man really think your crush could make you suddenly forget the fear? Deep down, you really hope so.

"No, it unfortunately does not make any difference to me. It just reminds me of some stories I read because my friend suggested that it ended up giving me nightmares for like... weeks..." You summarize your reasoning to Asimov, who now has leaned back to his chair with crossed legs.

Asimov just hums, seems unbothered by your distraught. After all, the coating has already reached its complete stage, there's no way an opinion from one person could change the initial plan anyway. The user himself had no objection, since he and his teammates seemed to have arranged plans for their own team’s theme for this year’s halloween.

You glance once again at the drawing board that displays the 3D model of "Nosferatu" coating, rotating it around to give it more look. "Though, it does look great, artistically. I just feel.. too disturbed by it. Look at those red eyes… and pointy… uh, wings? And nice cravats, too… still…”, feeling more and more uncomfortable, you lightly shake your head, then slightly move closer so what you are about to say only reaches Asimov’s ears.

“But, Anyway, please don't tell this to Chrome! He already worked hard with WGAA to come up with this coating, he doesn’t have to worry about my feelings, since I know he is pretty self-aware about this kind of stuff, even with his normal frame. I will state this: this is my dumb secret that I will take into my grav–"

"Commandant?"

A familiar voice from behind almost made your heart jump outside your body as you yelped in surprise and nearly spilled Asimov's coffee had it not been held down by a firm mug-cast (thank heavens, you don't want to spend more money on fixing his computers stuff). You turn back, trying to gather your scattered mind after your freak out to regain your composure before embarrassing yourself further in front of Chrome. Well, you tried.

"CH–CHro–Chrome?! Wah– uh, Hello! Uh, do you need something?"

Ah, shit. The voice you just let out really betrays your effort to appear undisturbed right now.

Standing before you is Chrome, which unfortunately for your poor soul, is currently still using the Nosferatu coating you were discussing with Asimov. Red eyes stare into you in surprise due to your previous freak out, a hint of worry is visible on his face. But to your certain fear, that expression is not registered in your head, busy keeping yourself together, to not make the person you adore find out about your silly discomfort. Your hand unconsciously reaching for something on the table, trying to find something to hold your dear life for, something that might become a distraction that offers small comfort to your shaking hand.

“Sorry, did I disturb something?”

“A-Ah! No, not at all! Don’t worry, Asimov just told me a scary story that made me so engrossed that I … didn’t realize you were behind me.”

“I see.”

Seems like he is buying it. Fearing the situation plummet down into awkward silence, you decide to shoot a question. You let out a small cough to compose your voice before continuing, “Do you need something from me, Chrome?”

“Ah, right. Yes, I do need to ask something from you, Commandant. Ayla says this coating is 100% done, but I was wondering if you have any thoughts on it?”, he answers, his right hand plays with the cravat part of this coating, appearing to be a bit flustered after shooting that question at you. His currently red eyes glance at you, Asimov, Ayla, then back at you.

“Uh, my thoughts? Um… I don’t think I understand what you mean…”

“Is this coating lacking something? Your advice always offers new insight, and I think it is just right to ask you about it right now before the finalization.”

Looks like the habit of discussing various things with him backfired at you for this case. “Uh… well…” You think hard, gripping something hard on your left-hand, which is the drawing board you just grabbed on. It helps you to tear your gaze from Chrome to look at the drawing, finally for the tenth time. The gears in your head are spinning fast, hoping something can come out as an idea to throw at Chrome so it can send him away from you. But nothing came up. So you resort to the easiest way, just answer something that screams 'OK'.

“I don’t think there’s anything lacking from this design, Chrome. I think it’s perfect!! Right, Ayla?” you exclaim as you pull the girl behind him into the conversation. As an artist, Ayla is the most knowledgeable one to convince someone about art, so you hope Ayla can indirectly cooperate with your compliment.

The girl’s eyes light up, very happy to hear your statement. “I know right, Commandant~! See, Chrome, there is nothing to worry, even the commandant thinks it’s already perfect~! Did my words not convince you enough that you need to confirm it to the Commandant? That’s a client’s dissatisfaction in my dictionary!” Ayla teases, but you know she means well. Chrome just nervously laughs as he shakes his head. “Please don’t take it that way, Ms. Ayla. I just have the habit of discussing a lot of stuff with Commandant, so this is normal. I am sorry if it offends you,” he replies. That earns a laugh from Ayla, telling him she is joking and doesn’t mind it.

“Then that’s great! We can now finalize the coating to the WGAA then! Let’s go there, Chrome!” pulling his shoulder eagerly, she tries to push Chrome to the door, urging him to follow her back to the WGAA department, looks like Ayla herself wants to release herself from another commission. The pushed man complies, but before walking through the door, he looks back at you. “Commandant, do you want to come with us?”

You shake your head. “No need, I still have something to discuss with Asimov right here.” Well, it’s half truth. ‘Sorry Chrome, I would love to, but right now I feel like I am about to pass out due to fear.’

As the lab’s door closes, a loud sigh fills the room. Finally, once again there are only the two of you in the lab. You let yourself collapse at the chair, the feeling of breathlessness throughout the previous conversation seems to take the toll out of you. This is really bad. How are you going to face him on the festival day when right now you are already struggling to keep yourself steady? You have heard this coating is related to the Strike Hawk’s plan for a stage play revolving around the theme called “Paradise Lost”, and Kamui mentioned briefly a few days ago that, “it will make you feel like you are really there to witness the horror of these creatures!” with a confident voice. That’s the last thing you want to feel. Only one idea that appears in your head to avoid such a situation and cause the most minimal damage to your pride and Chrome’s feelings.

“... I think I’ll find a way to make myself sick on that day.”

Scoffing, Asimov looks back at you, “You are crazy.”

“It’s better than hurting his feelings by avoiding to stare or even look at him. And it’ll be twice the nightmare if I see his disappointed face finding out that I am struggling to like his new coating. No way I’ll stain his memory with that. No way! No way!!!”

“Okay, I get it. Suit yourself.” He sounds like he just wants to escape your endless worry right now, and you can’t blame him.

Resolute with your decision, you feel a bit better, and suddenly aware that it seems you already bother Asimov enough. Getting ready to leave to go back to your dorm, you stand a while on the door, pressing the buttons, before looking back once more.

“You don’t happen to have a poison to make up a sick condition only for a day?”

“Get the hell out of my office.”

Well… isn’t it just great?

Turns out, you can’t get sick at all, or rather, you can’t find the window of opportunity to do so. Not without getting an angry-slash-disappointment gaze from Liv instantly making you feeling extremely guilty about it as you put back the ice cream you sneaked earlier back to the freezer (her wrath when it comes to your health is something you wish to avoid, just like your current predicament with Chrome’s coating). Because of that, you can’t consume too much ice cream or iced drinks to at least land you into a “getting sore-throat” situation.

Another attempt was you begged Lucia to cook for you once, to present you with a delicacy that you know very well can send you to the ER of Star of Life, but her frame needs a lot of monitoring lately, which makes no time for her to do such things. Lee even helped you a lot with paperworks, making no rooms for you to stay up late. Hiding a huge stash of documents from him in your room was a futile attempt, in which you were getting scolded instead as he mistaken that action as your bad habit of being a procrastinator at day to work alone as a night-owl.

So here you are now, sitting in the theater room that you once used for the Romeo and Juliet stage play a few years ago. The place is crowded with some of the other squads, anticipating the upcoming play that is presented by Strike Hawk themselves. You sit among the audiences, your team, Cerberus, Dark Aries, and other task forces, even the Engineering and Purifying Force are invited, and to be honest, it’s such a rare sight to see all of them in this kind of mood, the always present grim and tired look evaporated from everyone’s face, putting aside the the endless war with Punishing Virus on Earth that never stops to keep everyone on guard.

“I heard Kamui planned this play, Commandant.” Lucia that sits on your left speaks as she reads the pamphlet she’s currently holding that contains the overview about the stage play.

“‘Planned’ is a generous word for him, Lucia. I am certain he was spewing ideas like bullets and Chrome is the one that has to gather it one by one to arrange it into a more decent plot.” Lee replies, which earns a chuckle from the three other members of Gray Raven. Remembering their constantly-bickering dynamics, it is not a surprise for Lee to have that kind of idea.

You take a look at the pamphlet that you have been holding since entering the theater, reading its synopsis for one more time.

‘Paradise Lost’, where it accepts creatures that are banished from light, engulfed in the eternal darkness not to suffer, but to celebrate a rebirth in an endless banquet.

Below the description is the list of the cast's name, which consists of all members of Strike Hawk. Except for Chrome, you are still in the dark about the roles of his other teammates. Continuing downward, there’s like a bunch of star-shaped designs that usually can be found on advertisements (this design choice is very Kamui, you think).

‘Interactive! Immersive Play! Comedy! Scary! Romance!’

Looks like you missed that part of the pamphlet before until just now. “Interactive and Immersive?” Liv comments as she pays attention to the same part of the pamphlet with you, “Does that mean they will ask audiences to play along with them?”

“Like those magic shows when they invite the audience to join them on stage, probably?” You reply, as she then nods and lets out a small hum. “I guess that’s the possibility, Commandant. Looks like it’ll be fun!”

Fun, huh? For some reason, you have a bad feeling about it. The possibility of something pops in your head but quickly dismissed as the lights of the room turn off, alerting you and all of the audiences that the play is about to start.

‘I’ll just cast aside and try to enjoy the show, I guess…’

Silence fills the room for a moment, before dimmed light starts to brighten up, followed by an ominous toll of bells and melodies of music– consisting of organ and violin from what your ears can pick up– fills the air. Briefly, you feel like you have stepped into a world engulfed by darkness, standing in front of a mansion– a building that could be a magnum opus of an architect but left abandoned and claimed by underworld creatures that stumbled across it, turning it into their abode.

The scene continues to play out, painting the atmosphere and places to create what you call worldbuilding, getting to each scene with a tidy pacing, and it’s now starting to introduce the mansion “residents”. Wanshi, the first one to get the spotlight, is currently laying on a coffin, and seems to take the role of the classic undead creature from Chinese tales with the yellow charms attached on his forehead. For a heavy sleeper like him, this role sort of fits him perfectly (or he suggested it for an easier role that doesn’t involve him moving a lot).

The next spotlight lights up at the center of the stage, drawing all of the audience's attention to Camu that is sitting on a prop that looks like a throne made of swords and skulls, wearing an outfit in which you can describe as the role of someone with high ranking, possibly a ruler of a realm. He sits with crossed legs, showing his authoritativeness. Kamui props himself right next to him, grinning like his usual self, wearing an outfit that is sculpted to look like a skeleton, with a mask sitting on his head– you are still unsure what to call his role.

And finally of course, the person you currently want to see the most and least at the same time, standing at the highest point of the stage, a massive ring-shaped stained glass window emits a bright light, making his figure very imposing. You can’t miss the sharp red eyes of him, for a moment it feels like those very eyes land on you, giving you goosebumps all over your skin. Your breath hitched for a moment.

“Commandant, are you feeling okay?” A whisper from Lucia distracts you, as she squeezes your lower arm with her hand lightly, a soothing gesture from her. Crap, did you display signs of stress just now by being fidgety or something else? Not wanting to distract any audience with your voice to reply to Lucia's question, you just nod to assure her you are fine, well, for now. Lucia seems to buy your answer as she nods back and returns her focus back to the stage, as you do the same.

The whole play continues, and the plot is actually pretty simple. It displays scenes on how each resident of the mansion interacts with each other, from the sleepy-as-ever the undead Wanshi, that no matter how many times Kamui nags him, still able to find the opportunity and places to rest. One scene also gives Camu the time to shine, he exclaims the words of darkness and victory as he stands proud at the rooftop of the mansion, screams of praise from the underworld creatures celebrating his triumph. Chrome is pretty isolated. When it’s his time to receive the spotlight, he stands near a window, holding a glass that’s filled with dark-red liquid. Blood or a wine, you can leave that to your imagination. The glass then being brought to his lips, slowly sips on it as he takes his sweet time to taste the beverage.

There’s a slight smirk on his now red-stained lips.

The same color can be spotted on your face if the lights in the room are not dimmed enough to conceal it. Calm down, Calm down.

As time goes, you begin to grasp the story as well. After the many scenes of them claiming their possession and ruling many creatures, all of them want to hold a banquet in order to celebrate their victory on the night where total lunar eclipse happens, the so-called “Blood moon” night, where their whole plan to flood the land with darkness and reaches their final stage of ruling the entire land. A curse spell will be casted, pulling every living being that’s left to join them on the banquet, bewitching them to enter a new world, leaving the earthly concerns that have been shackling them.

The stage changes, now being set up to show a grand banquet hall, red roses adorning every corner of the stage, with chandeliers hanging and reflecting the “moon” light, which when combined with the light of purple flames from the lanterns on the wall, setting the banquet in gloomy red-and-purple atmosphere, yet still grandiose. How can something so scary appear so aesthetically appealing? At the center, Kamui finally exclaims as he extends his hands to the direction of the audience.

“Shall we start to welcome our esteemed guest as our dance partner?”

…Dance Partner?

You look around the stage, scanning your eyes expecting to see some side characters emerge from the curtains or between audiences, where they might pretend to be one before their time to perform arrives.

Nothing.

Does this mean…? No wonder you feel like something is missing as it finally clicks. You totally forgot the so-called "immersion play" the pamphlet mentioned. So the “immersive” means they want the audience to participate in a dance for their banquet scene? Your eyes wander around, seeing how Wanshi, Kamui, and Camu already picked their partners from different spots, some cheers and squeals can be heard from the crowds that surround them.

And how is Chrome walking in your direction, his steps as perfect as his usual self, but his face is showing a confident smirk, which for a moment makes you think it’s very unfitting to him? If someone puts a mic close to your chest, it will surely pick up the loud thumping it’s making right now.

Like the Romeo and Juliet play both of you enacted back then, he reaches his hand to your right hand, bringing it close to his fanged-lips (for a moment you really thought you’ll lose your hand right then and there), kissing it so lightly. The difference is, this time the hand kiss leaves a chilling sensation at the back of your hand. Is it the Nosferatu frame’s design that’s grasping the characteristics of a vampire, whose body lacks warmth, or is it your skin that is currently getting cold from the nervousness and fear?

You feel another tug on your right hand that he has been holding, pulling you as it is prompting you to stand on your feet, and your currently numb body does exactly that, robotically following his lead. He guides you to walk carefully on the stairs to the center of the stage, approaching one of the spotlights with a chandelier decorating the ceiling.

The scenery around you, for a moment, reminds you of how you have been practicing and participating in many dances with Chrome all this time. At the start, it was just because it was required in order to attend some ceremonies, banquets, or whatever higher-ups social parties in which both of you were invited. It started solely for that reason, but deep down, at least for you, this is merely an excuse to be closer and spend any free time you have to fill your days with him. All those missions and practices tighten bonds between you, just like this position where he carefully wraps his other hand to your waist to lock you in place, waiting for his next move.

Chrome clearly plans this with how he adjusts everything– the pose, the beat of the music, the movement– to make sure you feel familiar despite the sudden situation he’s putting you through right now. The counts of the dance-steps you both have grown familiar with, the sways he leads your hand and body, the warmth that grows as you come chest-to-chest with him. For some minutes, you let your mind wander off to just think of this as one of those banquet dances.

Illuminated by the spotlight, both of you just sways around, light steps decorating the floor, the world blur into colors like butterflies surrounding two lovers in a sacred ritual.

It goes for a while until the music fades out, slowing down everything you just experience and finally it comes to a halt. Now you both just stand there, still under the spotlight, though now you are completely unsure what to do. A sudden sensation of cold lands on your neck, making you flinch a bit. You cast your gaze to your side, seeing how Chrome’s hand is now touching the side part of your neck, then look up to find Chrome slightly bringing his head down, catching his eye that’s still glinting briefly, before closing the gap between you and leaning himself close to your ear. At first, you hear a rushed whisper of ‘Sorry, give me a moment’, before registering what’s happening.

The strands of his hair tickle your face as he buries himself into your shoulder. His warm breath fans your neck, but the same cold sensation from his fingers remains unmoved. A small smooch noise could be heard clearly due to his mic, and it finally hits you. He kisses your “neck” through his own hand, where his lips come in contact with his own fingers that’s shielding your neck, and from the audience's perspective, it looks like he actually kisses your neck. Like a vampire trying to get the taste of its prey. That action instantly makes you feel like you are thrown into an icy pool and a sensation of cold water a.k.a cold sweat starts to seep into your palm.

The theater erupts into a sea of squeals from the audiences. Some girls are having a good time watching this tale unfolding right now.

It remains for some time before he pulls back, now filling your view with only his face that appears imposing with the lights of the stage framing his features. The cold fingers that touched your neck are now moving to touch your chin, twisting your head to face the owner.

“A fine lady stranded– or rather, walked willingly with me into my abode, danced with me without questioning anything until now? Amusing.” He recites, displaying a face of amusement followed by a low chuckle.

His hand traces your chin, exploring your jawline before landing back to the neck, brushing it tenderly, “Skin so delicate, and it makes me want to claim you as mine once I mark you. Though, from the time we spent until now, you don’t mind that, do you?” He says, now smirking as he is entertained with the idea of it. “Tell me with your sweet voice, fine lady, do you want to spend an eternity with me in this endless-banquet? I promise an eternity full of euphoria, more than the seventh heaven could offer you.”

…

…Wow.

Since when can Chrome make such a face and say such playful words?!

His lines render you silent for a full five seconds, then your lips let out high-pitched sputters with incomprehensible words. The whole event brings bewilderment looks and excited cheers from most of the audience, Gray Raven included (you swear from the corner of your eyes your team would react as if you are about to get kidnapped). People inside the theater won’t expect the usually composed commandant to be stupefied, remaining frozen on spot over a cheesy-flirting. It’s unsure whether you are freezing from the fear or from the lovestruck– no kidding, it’s both.

As you are about to reply (to be honest, you just can’t think of anything else other than using “huh?” to at least make the scene continue to flow), Chrome cuts you up, aware of your bewilderment, with something he had planned as impromptu in case the “dance partner” is not responding. He gets closer even more, breath fanning your left cheek.

“Should I give you a foretaste of it, to let you know how intoxicating it is?”

He opens his mouth, showing a full view of fangs with a sadistic look. Red eyes shine brighter as it stares at you like a feast. A sight that will swoon most people who are familiar with this concept of story, but unfortunately, you are not among them. It sways your stomach, dropping it to the ground like being dragged down by a roller coaster instead.

Your feet turn cold as the world suddenly twists around you, dark spots fill every corner of your eyes. The last strength of your feet that’s been supporting you vanishes as you proceed to smooch the cold stage floor with your body.

The last thing you heard was a bunch of screams of your name and the feeling of a pair of cold hands cradling your figure before completely drowning in darkness.

The warm feeling of a blanket and fluffy pillow envelopes you, giving you a sense of comfort. You struggle to open your eyes, your head feels so light whilst you try to collect your consciousness. The white ceiling and familiar decorated walls surrounding you are the signs that indicate you are currently back in your room. Did you feel so exhausted that you straightly fell asleep after the stage play? But you didn’t remember how it ends or you or when you and the others leave the theater–

Oh.

You fainted. On stage.

Consciousness fully returns to you, as you come to a realization that you really did mess up there. The sense of panic quickly fills your heart and urges your body to leave the bed and rush back to the theater. So you just do so, sitting up and mentally preparing yourself to apologize to everyone, especially him. Only for a hand to hold you firmly on your wrist preventing you from moving any further. You look to your left to the individual that apparently has been in the room, sitting quietly beside your bed this whole time.

“Chrome?”

Sitting there is the blonde-construct, back at his usual frame. His hair is strangely down, not the usual slicked-up hair you are so used to seeing these days. The realization dawns on you shortly though, as he once self-consciously asked if leaving his hair like that will make him appears weary (he was afraid you misunderstood it as he is too reluctant to see you that night, which you waved off and lightly joked how you would like to see it more often if it’s possible).

This time you can conclude that he is really in a very down mood.

For a moment, both of you just stare at each other, too lost in the thought of how to begin the conversation. In the end, Chrome is the one that takes initiative.

“You fainted, Commandant.” He jumps straight to the point.

“That I did…” is all you can say.

“I have been informed about your situation from Asimov.” Oh, the beans have been spilled. Guess you don’t have to explain it anymore? Still, you feel guilty– extremely guilty– about this. Avoiding his eyes, you cast your attention to the blanket, fiddling with your right hand as the left one being held by the man beside you. Noticing your silence and your unwillingness to look at him, he grows anxious as well.

“Commandant, please look at me…”

“...”

“Is this coating… really that bad? Do you really dislike it that much?”

“NO!” Your voice finds a sudden strength to deny his absurd claim. Your hand tries to grip his wrist, keeping him to stay before drifting himself into negative thoughts any further.

Godness, that’s a very harsh assumption. Did Asimov just tell him you are disliking his frame, leaving no further explanation? Oh.

He likely wants you to explain it to Chrome by yourself, giving you the opportunity to talk about it, which in some ways you are glad to have, though right now it’s too straight to the point to your liking after the whole chaos you just made. You are unsure whether to ‘accidentally’ spill his favorite coffee at the nearest sink for the badly provided information or give him a bag of expensive coffee as a thank-you gift for forcefully pulling you and Chrome in this conversation.

“No, please trust me Chrome, it’s gorgeous, magnificent, perfect!! It’s just…It’s just on me…”

Pulling your legs to your chest, you try to hide yourself, at least your face, obscuring your eyes as you feel you are about to embarrass yourself any further in front of him. His hands clasp your left hand, a small gesture that turns into a silent reassuring for you to keep going.

“I can’t help but to feel my body shaking to the core and feeling myself shutting off due to my fear of… you know…” Finally, a confession escapes your lips. Who would have thought the first confession you tell him would be this? But you really just want to tell him the truth, your reason, and your feelings, as it is what you must do for him. “But I am fighting it. I don’t want my selfish fear to affect you.”

‘You have given me a lot all these years, I should not ask too much.’

Your feet are surely shaking so much, an icy feeling spreads despite the warm blanket still wraps around them. You don’t want him to feel guilty and feel the necessity to act based on your opinion. It’s stupid, really. You are aware of his personality, one of them being the amazing leader that always comes with the most optimal answer, and it’s something you have always respected and learned a lot from him as there are times where you feel you are not good enough to be one for Gray Raven.

You thought it was just a one-sided feeling of admiration to him, but apparently, you became aware of his opinion towards you as well. The ear-studs that he once felt insecure about and asked if it looked out of place, are now being kept on his final Glory frame adjustment. That’s the point where you start to feel a bit self-conscious when it comes to discussing stuff with him. Including this whole problem.

Feeling suffocated enough after hiding your face, you slightly turn your face to your left, eyes peeking at his face but quickly turn to the bed sheet or floor, whatever you can land your gaze on right now. “When you performed that role so well on the stage, just like the pamphlet said, it is so entrancing that… for a moment I felt like I was actually about to be taken away by an actual vampire…”

Only your voice fills your room right now as Chrome listens to your explanation, his hands that’s still holding yours, softly tracing the back of your hand with his thumbs, successfully soothing your racing heart. One could say it’s also a way for Chrome to calm himself as well, given hearing your entire rambling just now increased his worries about you, yet at the same time, relieving as it’s not because his Nosferatu coating looks hideous that you hate it.

But truthfully, Chrome could craft any scenarios from A to N when he reviewed the scripts for the past few weeks, from anticipating random impromptu from Kamui to guiding dialogues when the other party confused on what to say, but none of them prepared in case you out of nowhere passed out on stage.

A small cough grabs your attention, pulling your unfocused eyes now at Chrome. “I am glad to hear your explanation, Commandant. I assure you don’t have to feel guilty about it as well. But please…” His grip on your hand tightens a bit, before continuing.

“Don’t hide such things from me in the future. I understand you think it as a burden, but I assure you it’s not. We have been solving harder obstacles, this is not something impossible.”

He is right. War rages over, yet both of you still pave the same path, reaching for the glorious day that one day must come.

Sheepishly, you chuckle and finally let out the breath you’ve been holding. “Thank you Chrome, and I know you said I don’t have to feel guilty, but I still want to say I’m sorry.”

“Ah… Apology accepted. You can relax now, Commandant.”

Finally, it feels like a huge weight left your heart, now the sense of relief washes over you. You straighten your feet, now turning yourself to face him as you sit on the edge of your bed. Now the tension is over, you just want to dwell on idle chit-chat with him. So, you bring up today’s performance, before the whole fainting stuff, of course.

“Like I said earlier, your performance, Wanshi, Kamui, and Camu were so impressive. With big missions and little free time you guys had, there were barely any mistakes during the play. It was as if Strike Hawk was an actual theater kids group. And costumes too, especially yours, Chrome.”

“Really? Doesn’t my ‘nice costume’ points be reduced from your perspective?” He teases.

“I mean, kind of. But, objectively, it surely is well-crafted. Every gaze seems like they are all over the heels for you!” You beam, the smile on your face as you cheerful state is back mirrored on Chrome’s face for a moment before it turns into a slight sad smile. Did you say something wrong? Before your mind once again flies everywhere, his voice, slightly whispering, reaches your ears.

“But it’s meaningless if it’s not from you.”

His rebuttal catches you out of your guard, like getting splashed with cold water.

“I want you to see me in that light as well. I will feel content even if it is just from you.”

“Ah… I… I see.” You stammer as blush starts to decorate your face. Deep down, you feel like you know what he implies with those words, and because of that, you come with a new objective, it’s a way to make it up after all. “Then, let’s work it out together, Chrome. Help me go through this?” It’s your turn now to wrap your palm on his, though you need not to plead, as you are certain the person in front of you will give a certain answer.

“That we will.”

Reassuring smiles decorates both of your faces.

“But, also… Chrome?”

Now it’s his turn to wonder what you are about to say.

“About those lines you said to me, I haven’t responded, have I?”

“Hmm?”

Suddenly, you wrap your hand on his neck, hugging him as you sink your head on his shoulder.

“Wherever you take me, that's where I'll follow you. If it's an eternal banquet where you and I will have a happy ending, I will succumb to darkness just to be with you.”

The hands that wrap around your waist is all you need to know that he understands. Shortly, a small peck from his lips lands on your neck, a small gesture mimicking a vampire marking its prey– or rather, his lover.

“Then so be it.”

“I was wondering, are there any reasons for you to pick me out of all the audience?”

After exiting your room, then settling at the kitchen bar to enjoy a cup of iced-water, Chrome explains the concept of his role.

“Kamui said you sometimes fangirl over villains in the video game doing ‘evil stuff’, so… I thought by doing something that related to that, one of them I read from a Golden Age novel about how evil vampires catch their prey, you would react the same. He said you will surely love it.”

That just makes you rack your mind a bit, trying to remember the time which this information took place. Now it makes a lot of sense.

“I guess he mistook me fangirling over an evil-prefect that wants to rule the world in one of those visual novels we played and generalized it as I like everything that screams ‘villain’. Can’t blame him, though.” Shaking your head, you think you have to tone down your fangirling in the future, especially in front of Kamui, so he won’t take things too far in the future.

You still have one more question though. The heaviest question.

“Did I destroy the entire play after I fainted?”

Chrome knows beforehand you will ask about this, quickly answer you to cast away your worry. “It was in fact almost becoming disastrous, but I ended up just doing anything that came to my mind.”

“And that is?”

“... Remember the time where I carried you escaping Hetero-Hive Mother?”

“Yeah? By– Ohhh…”

You can picture it somehow, very clearly. You just hope next time you are conscious to fully tuck that memory inside your head.

#punishing gray raven #pgr #chrome pgr #chrome x reader #chrome pgr x reader #reader insert #female reader #no y/n #KG this is my begging message for you to make a story for his coating

31 notes · View notes

franzkafkagf · 9 months ago

Note

oh look

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSYNPtJL1/

ayla... i straight up started BAWLING. helaegon + fam make me SO EMO! They deserved better.... also I agree haters r corny helaena obvs doesn't hate aegon and he is not indifferent to her AT ALL.

Some thoughts:

I never realized that she wears a sun-themed ring but it's literally so cute??? oh WOW.

You just need to watch the dinner scene... she's laughing when aegon being a clown w jace (lmao)

THE HELAEGON BEATLE OH GOD THE HELAEGON BEATLE.... that's canon to me. the way he is holding it watching her dance w jace LMAO

dinner scene keeps on giving. aegon is obviously jealous that she's dancing w another man... people really love to point out the scene where he calls her an idiot as if he wasn't 14 in that clip. people change their opinions on others...

Her dressing up in gold, jaehaerys funeral sigil, her crying at his coronation, him looking at her for affirmation.... yeah im emo yeah they are the ultimate tragic pairing its so crazy

in conclusion;

#aegon ii targaryen #helaena targaryen #helaegon #hotd #ales.txt #beloved mutuals

50 notes · View notes

practically-an-x-man · 4 months ago

Text

Since I was just talking about this with a friend... here's the symbolism for my various OCs' names!

At least... here are the main OCs, though I usually apply symbolism to the antagonists, secondary characters, etc. as well (I can talk about them too, but that would make this post ridiculously long)

____

Rachel "Rae" Ayla McKinney: the name Rae is used as a shortened nickname from Rachel, but on its own means "protector" - fitting, with her protective personality and ability to create impenetrable energy shields! Middle name was chosen from her grandmother's first name; the same grandmother that she inherited her mutation from. Surname was not chosen with intentional deeper meaning, just chosen for a Scottish surname. Hero name, Aegis, is a reference to Athena's mythological shield.

Robin Eleanor Cassidy: first name is both a traditionally Irish name and links back to the music- and sound-based themes within her story. Middle name is also Irish in origin, and can be seen as a variation on the name Leonore, as in the opera Fidelio. Surname wasn't chosen with deeper symbolic meaning, just to connect her to the X-Men's Cassidy family as a whole. Hero name, Aria, is a reference to her sound-based mutation and operatic background.

Madison Sarah Douglas: first name has multiple derived forms, one of which means "strength in battle", and was also chosen with nicknames in mind to symbolize the stages of her life: she goes by Maddie until she's 15, then leaves that behind once she runs to the wilderness and begins going only by her full name, then begins to adopt the nickname "Mads" as she grows comfortable with Alex. Middle name was chosen from a list of popular names for the time, intended to be simple and unassuming like Madison's parents (her mother especially) expected her to be. Surname is can be translated from Gaidhlig to mean "black stream", a symbol towards her aquatic-based mutation. Hero name, Lionfish, is a reference to the physical traits her mutation grants her, and in the earlier stages of her story can be seen as foreshadowing towards the venomous fins and more lionfish-like traits she will later develop.

Ophelia Jo Octavius: first name stems from the Shakespearean Ophelia, intended both to connect her to her literary-focused mother and to foreshadow the tragedy she will experience throughout her life (and at one point, foreshadows her multiversal variant that genuinely goes mad and later dies to her own actions). Middle name is also literary, stemming from Little Women; however, her middle name is only Jo, not the full Josephine, meant to symbolism Ophelia standing apart from expectations. Surname is not chosen with deeper meaning, just to tie her into the canon Octavius family, but the alliteration of her first and last name is meant to be "superhero-like" and further connect her to her father. Hero name, Argonaut, represents both Jason's mythological Argo and a species of pelagic octopus.

Giovanna "Gia" Isabelle Pantazis: First name, in both its full and shortened forms, translates to "God is gracious", symbolizing Gia's faith and feeling that her surviving HYDRA was an act of God's will. Middle name also holds faith-based translations to further this symbolism. Surname is derived from the Greek blessing "live forever!", representing how having her life force bound to her clover makes her effectively immortal (at least in certain ways).

Jasper Nightingale Wilson: First name was chosen from a list of modern gender-neutral names, mainly meant to be a fitting, likely choice for a name a genderfluid teen would choose for themself in the 2010s. Middle name was chosen to honor Florence Nightingale, Jasper's personal hero and the person that inspired them to go into nursing. Surname can be derived in some ways from "desire", but was also chosen for an ongoing joke with their partner about having "two first names". Derby name, Gemstone, is meant as a connection to the name Jasper. [note: I will not be analyzing the symbolism of their deadname, and I didn't choose extensive symbolism for their deadname even if there's some to potentially be found. The only thing I chose to line up is that they chose their former derby name to be derivative of their first name, the same way Gemstone is derived from Jasper]

Indigo: Uses no surname until marriage - first because she didn't know her family, later as an act of rebellion for how "loaded" her family surnames would be. She chose her first name herself, for the deep blue color of her eyes, because being a foundling on the dog-eat-dog world of Corellia meant nobody bothered to choose a proper name for her (prior to choosing her name, her guardians would just summon her with "girl!" or "hey, you!"). Name was also chosen with a nickname in mind, both to provide variety and as a symbol of familiarity as she moves through the story.

Prometheus: Name as a nightmare was Nyx (from the Greek god of night), or the Fear of the Dark, for them being a primal nightmare of the dark. Name as a dream keeps the Greek mythological roots, but represents them claiming fire for the sake of the human dreamers they choose to protect, as well as representing the day-by-day injury they undergo in order to protect those same dreamers. The transition from Nyx to Prometheus also represents them becoming closer to their human dreamers - beginning as a primordial god, ending as a human hero.

Eris: Given name from Themyscira was Adamantia, meaning "untameable" or "unbreakable". After their bloodlust and sense for conflict became clear to the people around them, those on Themyscira began referring to them as Eris - believing they were an embodiment of conflict itself, a reincarnation of the Greek god Eris (similar to the Ares story in Wonder Woman)

Nikoletta Bordeaux: First name means "victorious" and is drawn from the Greek Nike. Surname is a region in France, but has no other translated or derived meaning (especially considering that Nikoletta's family stem from Louisiana Cajun French, not traditional French, and the further linguistic separation there). Altogether, her name symbolizes "a victory that means nothing", indicating the various façades she implements while in Belle Reve - holding a position that only grants her power while within the prison, and her abilities themselves being used as a symbol for death while actually having no tangible danger.

Azalea Jordan "AJ" Campbell: First name is a flower, connecting her to her mother Violet as well as representing her career as an assassin in disguise: azaleas are beautiful flowers, but are toxic to humans and animals. Middle name, as well as her nickname, are intentionally gender-neutral, meant to symbolize her ongoing disguises and anonymity as an assassin (since the names apply to any gender, there are fewer visual assumptions that can be made about her). Surname translates to "crooked mouth", representing and foreshadowing the reveal of her facial scars.

Quinn: Any surname or former name for her have not been revealed or even decided, and I don't intend to choose any - that stage of her life has been left long in the past, and she's intentionally placed a distinction between that life and her current identity. The name Quinn has various meanings: it can be derived from "wise", "beautiful", or "chief", but was also chosen in-universe as a reference to Harley Quinn. Her rooftop name, Aces, furthers the association with Harley Quinn, decks/suits of cards, and luck/gambling.

Kestrel: Name and character design as a whole are pulled from an American kestrel - solitary animals save for their lifelong mating bonds, known to be adaptable to a variety of habitats and nesting conditions, and extremely effective hunters despite their small size. Former name, Deborah "Debbie" Browning, was merely meant as a mundane and human identity for them to have held before they revealed themself as a changeling.

Katherine Alessia Johnson: Name is largely derived from the NASA astronomer Katherine Johnson, known for contributing valuable research and computations to the moon landing (the moon symbolism also being tied back to the moonlight-powered Tablet of Khonsu). Middle name Alessia means "defender" or "truthful", notable elements of Katherine's character as well as her connection to Bastet, the Egyptian god of domestic protectiveness.

James "Jimmy" Aaron Luciano: As a whole, name was just chosen on a whim based on what sounded right, and wasn't intended with particular deeper meaning aside from being a period-accurate name for an Italian-American New Yorker in the 1910s. However, there is symbolism to be found in that both his former partner Robert and current love interest Lars choose to refer to him as James rather than his nickname.

Vivienne Siversdatter Andenæs: First name means "life", representing her being saved from death by her transformation into a siren - the name was also chosen to be a classically beautiful and feminine name, both for a siren's ethereal beauty and as a subversion towards Vivienne being nonbinary (at least, that it would be nonbinary by modern standards). Middle name is a family surname from Norwegian naming conventions, preserving her father's name. Surname has no listed translation or meaning, but is also Norwegian in origin.

Souriya "Spider" Prakash-Cooper: First name is Lao in origin and means "sun" to symbolize his explosive energy and social "brightness", and was chosen by his parents to honor his maternal grandfather. Surname is his parents hyphenated last names - his mother Adhira Prakash and his father Darius Cooper. Prakash also means "sunlight" to double that earlier symbolism; and while the surname Cooper originally derives from barrel-making, the name was chosen more for the juxtaposition between his father's family in America and his mother's family across India and Laos. His nickname Spider comes from friends at his speed-climbing gym, who gave him the nickname for his long limbs and fast, eclectic climbing strategy.

23 notes · View notes