#Granite Peak
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10 Reasons Why Montana Should Be Your Next Outdoor Adventure
Nestled between the Canadian border and the states of Idaho and Wyoming lies Montana, also known as the Treasure State. The name is fitting for a state adorned with granite mountain ranges, cavernous badlands, vast grassy expanses of the Great Plains, and glittering rivers â making it a perfect destination for outdoors enthusiasts who appreciate untouched natural beauty. Despite MontanaâsâŠ
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#1#2#Apgar Campground#Avalanche Lake Campground#Avalanche Lake Trail#backcountry#Badlands#Bitterroot National Forest#Bob Marshall Wilderness Complex#camping#Continental Divide#fishing#Fishtail#Flathead National Forest#Gates of the Mountains Wilderness#Glacier National Park#Going-to-the-Sun Road#Grand Prismatic Hot Spring#Granite Peak#Granite Peak Trail#Great Plains#hiking#Kootenai National Forest#Montana#Montana Hiking Trails#Montana National Parks#Mountains Biking#Old Faithful#Rockies#South Hills Trail System
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Granite Peak fall chairlift rides underway
Love these rides.
Wausau Pilot & Review One of the best ways to experience the beauty of fall color in the Wausau area is too see it from above. Granite Peakâs fall chairlift rides offer a unique vantage point to take in the changing colors of the Wisconsin River Valley, Lake Wausau, and Wisconsinâs second-highest peak, Rib Mountain. Weekend rides extend through Oct. 15 and are weather-permitting. FridayâŠ
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đđđđđđđ đ
đđđđ | woodpine bay's successor. Ëąâżá”á”á” á”á”á”á”
and thank you to our sponsor @softpine without her until dawn psds this preview would not have been made possible.
#ts4#kristen's.sims#*granite falls#*lexi kim#i don't really like the editing on this one?#also i need to get back my old camera mod-#things will change whilst the story begins & when I drop more sneak peak previews
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Fiery Sunrise Sierra Blanca
A crazy-dramatic, mid-winter sunrise in Colorado: The 14,000 ft+ high peaks of the Sierra Blanca are catching the first light of the rising sun, creating the illusion that the mountains are on fire. And the fact that the snow is blowing of the craggy granite peaks further enhances the impression.
Photographer: Christoph Stopka
#christoph stopka#photographer#colorado#sunrise#sierra blanca#mountains#snow#granite peaks#nature#landscape
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Gutzon Borglum began sculpting Mount Rushmore on October 4, 1927.
#Gutzon Borglum#began sculpting#Mount Rushmore National Memorial#USA#4 October 1927#anniversary#US history#controversial memorial#travel#summer 2019#controversy#native american land#South Dakota#vacation#original photography#George Washington#Thomas Jefferson#US President#Teddy Roosevelt#Theodore Roosevelt#Abraham Lincoln#tourist attraction#landmark#Harney Peak granite#Black Hills
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A Granite outcrop rising half a kilometer above the flat surrounding plain. Around 2.6 Billion years old Peak Charles is one of many large outcroppings of ancient bedrock that are exposed across western Australia, this outcrop sits about at the edge of the Yilgarn craton
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Big Snippet for ya
I recently dug up this old Xhakarteta fic I was writing and I started re-writing it today to take a little break from Alltober. Enjoy
#writing#football rpf#football fanfics#football#sneek peak#xhakarteta#mikel arteta#granit xhaka#arsenal fc#ao3#writing snippet
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Soglio, Val Bregaglia/Bergell, Switzerland da Eric Chumachenco - Thanks for over 18 million views!! Tramite Flickr: Photo taken on September 29th, 2023. The Bregaglia granite spires in the background.
#valley#grass#pasture#meadow#green#tree#forest#village#house#stone#roof#church#architecture#sky#blue#mountain#mountainside#peak#dreitausender#granite#rock#pinnacle#ridge#crest#arĂȘte#wall#cliff#face#precipice#ice
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Fountain in Phoenix
Ideas for a sizable, rustic, drought-tolerant, and fully-shaded backyard landscape with a concrete paver water feature.
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Pictures of the granite formations found in Yosemite National Park, CA, has been added to Developing Nature Gallery.
These are: El Capitan, Half Dome, Unicorn Peak, North and Basket Dome, Three Brothers and Glacier Point.
#landscapes#yosemite national park#california#summer#blue sky#trees#granite#tuolumne#glacier point#unicorn peak#half dome#el capitan#three brothers#bridal veil#sentinel dome#river#meadow#valley#scenic view#kimberlyjt#developingnature#photographer#nature#gifts#decor#wall art#posters#mugs#coasters#puzzles
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A Dance With the Dragon I â The Tides Beckon
Yandere Neuvillette x Reader
[Part I â You are here] [Part II] [Part III] [Part IV]
The last thing you expected was to have caught the eye of Fontaineâs Chief Justice. You have no choice but to be swept into the dragonâs dance.
Warnings: Yandere tendencies, possessive behavior, forced imprisonment, unrequited relationship
It all started with your realization that Fontaine has some rather intriguing laws.
For as long as you could recall, you had aspired to become a marine biologist. Though you hailed from Mondstadt, you forged your curiosity in the tide pools and lakes around the edges of the region. You scoured over any novel you could find on marine ecology and animal behavior, spending endless hours lost in the Knights of Favonius library. On your thirteenth birthday, your parents bought you a Kamera, which launched your career in wildlife photography and research. You even went on to publish a book cataloguing pictures of your nationâs aquatic life. It came to no oneâs surprise, then, when you were gifted with a hydro vision.
Although you loved your life in Mondstadt, the vast waters that surrounded the Land of Hydro beckoned you like the pull of a tide. So, on your twenty-fifth birthday, you parted with your family and homeland, traversing across Teyvat and experiencing its many wonders. You relished in the culture and cuisine in Liyue and marveled at the natural architecture of Sumeruâs forests. Yet nothing would ever be as breathtaking as your first glimpse at Fontaine, at the granite peaks rising above the crystalline waters teeming with life of all forms.
You had secured employment with a group researching the sudden uptick in seal strandings across the nation, taking you across Fontaineâs many beaches. Your main base was located near Romaritime Harbor, which prompted you to spend your lunch breaks exploring the Court of Fontaine.
You made quick friends with the Melusines, some of whom were still a bit nervous being around humans; however, you found their stories of the ocean fascinating and often invited them to join you for lunches or strolls through the city.
One in particular, Carole, had become your close friend after you encountered her being pelted with rocks by a mob of Fontainians. You didnât hesitate to use your vision to immobilize the rocks and create a barrier around Carole, quickly ushering her to safety. You couldnât comprehend the prejudices directed towards her and the other Melusines, but after that incident, you made sure to keep an eye out for all of your little friends.
One day, on one of your walks, you ran into said Melusine. She seemed despondent that only a handful of citizens were interested in her hand painted posters, so you decided to treat her to lunch and pastries to cheer her up. Thatâs when you first caught wind of the Hydro Dragon.
âWell, if youâre worried about the seals, you might call upon the Hydro Sovereign himself!â Carole chirped.
You tipped your head curiously, lowering the cup in your hands onto the cafe table. âDonât you mean herself? Although Iâve never met the Hydro Archon, Iâve heard others refer to her as âLadyâ Furina.â
Carole shook her hands back and forth in front of her. âOh, no, I mean the Hydro Dragon! He is responsible for keeping watch over Fontaine, which includes all of its resources and residents. Iâve heard that with every sea creature that passes, the heavens open and the dragon sheds his tears in mourning.â She took a bite of her croissant. âI have a feeling heâd be willing to help.â
You tapped your chin in thought. âYou donât say. Well, we are in a bit of a drought, which could be contributing to the beachings⊠Perhaps Iâll ask this Hydro Sovereign for his favor.â
On the days you were dispatched to Fontaineâs eastern beaches, you opted to sit by the Fountain of Lucine to wish for the Hydro Dragonâs help. It had become a tradition for you to do so ever since your conversation with Carole, for you swore that every time you prayed to his name, rain would grace the shores the next day.
During those research trips, your coworkers would invite you to attend trials at the Opera Epiclese, though you politely declined each time. You had no particular interest in the Opera and were much more inclined to spending your time outside and uninvolved with the courtâs theatrics. Besides, you considered yourself to be a model citizen, so the proceedings of the court were beyond your worries.
Or so you thought.
~*~
The incident that led to your arrest was the violation of the order âno domestic pets shall be named after Furinaâ. Apparently the otter that paddled around the Harbor each morning was undignified of the title of âFocalotterâ. You had thought the name quite clever and humorousâthat is, until a horde of Gardes surrounded you during your shift one afternoon.
You were detained and led into the Opera immediately, which was where you currently found yourself. You frowned at the relatively large crowdâwhich, much to your dismay, included most of your coworkersâdispersed throughout the hall. Had they all come just to spectate your trial? Standing alone on the isolated balcony, you felt like an insect under a magnifying glass, an insignificant pest to be probed at for entertainment.
âAnd how do you plead?â
The deep, commanding voice above you wrenched you from your thoughts. Turning your eyes up, your (e/c) orbs were met with a penetrating gaze.
Pinning you with his lavender and silver eyes from atop his chair at the center of the court was none other than the Chief Justice of Fontaine, the Iudex himself, the face of the law in the Court. Monsieur Neuvillette.
This wasnât your first interaction with the man.
Shortly your move to Fontaine, you had stumbled across his path. At first, it was just sightings from afar; he would be leaving the Opera, or purchasing a drink (Wait, is he paying for water?) from your favorite cafe. Your favorite flowers also began to appear at your doorstep, each time with a brief, cryptic note, usually something along the lines of To my little pearl âSincerely, your guardian dragon. You didnât think anything of it; if anything, it confirmed that your prayers to the Hydro Sovereign had been heard.
Then, however, Neuvillette began to periodically show up around your research stations, claiming to be investigating a court case. Even though the Iudexâs public appearances were supposedly rare, none of your coworkers, yourself included, thought to question his authority, answering his inquiries regarding the baseâs activities to the best of your abilities.
You noticed that he tended to speak to you the most, even asking personal inquiries like your favorite drinks, foods, books, and hobbies, and about your marine photography especially. It must be part of the investigation, you rationalized. He was nothing but gentlemanly and always kept conversations curt and to the point, offering you a gentle smile as he departed.
If only you knew the true extent of his desires.
~*~
Naturally, he first caught wind of you from the Melusines. As his closest advisor, Carole regularly joined him for afternoon tea, and though he was not one for idle talk, the manner in which his friend spoke of you sparked his intrigue.
âAnd when those meanies were throwing rocks at me, (Y/n) was the only one who intervened! If it werenât for her, I donât know what would have happenedâŠâ Carole rubbed her head, as if remembering the sharp pain.
Neuvillette placed a hand over his heart. âI am eternally grateful for her presence. I cannot stand the thought of any harm befalling you.â The hydro dragon looked out the window of his study to the ocean, deep in thought. âPerhaps you could introduce me. It appears I have much to thank her for.â
âOh, thatâs right!â Carole raised a finger. âShe mentioned lots of seal beachings recently, so I suggested that requesting rain from a certain dragon could assist her work!â
Neuvillette nodded, a slight smile pulling at his lips. âAh, so that is why Iâve been hearing Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon echoing throughout my mind the past few weeks. You have quite the imagination, my friend.â
Carole shrugged playfully. âHasnât it been raining more often lately? Seems like her prayers worked!â
That they had, as Neuvillette could attest to.
The first time he heard your soft voice calling to him, he had sent rain the following morningânot for you, but for the seals. His position barred him from forming close relationships with humans, so the notion of attending to your inquiry face-to-face was eliminated immediately.
But when you returned again and again to implore for rain, he couldnât deny his interest. The day after Carole informed him that his little supplicant and Caroleâs hero were one in the same, he knew he had to meet you. He had actually left the Opera to see you for himself; whether he would actually converse with you was still uncertain, but your voice tickled an itch that he needed to scratched.
Neuvillette was an experienced and composed man, but setting his sights on you for the first time stole his breath. This, he thought, must be what it feels like to drown.
Your smile shone brighter than a Beryl conch, and your scent floated around him, sweeter than any marcotte. The light shimmering from the hydro vision on your hip reflected back in your eyes, giving them the appearance of twin pools of blue. You were sitting on a bench by the Fountain, a Kamera in hand as you gestured excitedly towards the screen. To your right was a Melusine he knew well, Kiara, who was clearly enraptured with the technology.
Though he knew of your kindness towards the Melusinesâjumping in to save Carole alone was grounds for a medal of peaceâseeing it before him sent the waters around his heart roiling. The Iudex was moved by the fact that, despite being a foreigner to Fontaineâs customs, you treated them with the utmost respect, going out of your way to befriend and include them in your daily life. Many citizens of Fontaine still harbored prejudice against the Melusines, but you⊠You even used she/her pronouns when referring to them, implementing the very law that he set forth.
âI use this for my research on seal behavior and conservation,â you explained to Kiara. âHaving pictures of each individual helps us identify them in the future. We even give them silly names sometimes. See this one here? We call him Mr. Sealie, and this otter I like to callâŠâ
When the pink Melusine started giggling over the nickname of your otter, a plan formed in his mind.
Whether attributable to his sense of justice or his draconic instincts, he knew one thing for certain. Like a shining pearl, you must be cherished and protectedâand who better to serve than the Hydro Sovereign?
~*~
Those eyes will be my downfall.
Purple and silver locked with (e/c). Despite being newly appointed to the court, Neuvillette was the embodiment of both poise and intimidation. The very air around him seemed to shimmer with power and unyielding authority. His breathtaking eyes swirled with emotionsâwas that desire or disinterest?âyou could not even begin to decipher in your current position.
Archons, help me.
You cleared your throat, hoping you didnât appear too nervous in front of the judge. âAlthough I admit to using a version of the Hydro Archonâs name when referring to that otter, I was unaware of such a law against doing so. Iâm not originally from Fontaine, so some of its, uhâŠlesser discussed laws are new to me.â
Neuvillette gazed around the courtroom as the crowd devoured the trial before them. It was baffling how naive humans could be sometimes; of course there was no rule against applying a silly nickname to a pet.
That is, until this morning when he had signed it into law.
Seeing you frightened and alone in the defendantâs box, however, was torture. It took all of his willpower to not to engulf you in his strong arms like waves around sand. But he had to maintain the facade of immovable judicator for a bit longer in order to mold you to his tide. Retaining his mask of composure, Neuvillette continued, âYou do realize that previous defendants have been jailed for far less, correct?â
Frustration and fear flared within you. âBut Iââ
âDesecration of Lady Furinaâs name is of the highest offense. Your behavior will not be excused, neither by myself nor the Oratrice.â Neuvillette raised the paper with your verdict, barely glancing over the words before he spoke. âThe verdict stands: you, (Y/n) (L/n), are guilty.â
You clenched your fists heatedly. There was no arguing with the Iudex. Clearly, the polite and considerate version of Neuvillette that you had encountered earlier was an anomaly, for the figure looming above you was the complete opposite. Cold, calculating. Distant. A whirlpool cresting a bottomless sea.
Had this been his plan all along? Had you been the subject of his investigation? But why?
âHowever, because you are not from Fontaine, I will offer you a choice.â
You blinked up at the Justice, a knot of unease forming in your stomach. A choice? What choice did you truly have here? You pursed your lips warily but nodded for him to continue.
Neuvillete raised a gloved finger. âThe first: you will serve a life sentence in the Fortress of Meropide.â
A wave of despair seared your insides like a brand. That was your fate? To be trapped beneath the region where you had always longed to live, never to feel the salty wind on your face or hear the calls of seals and gulls again? Surely, the second option was less cruel?
âOr, alternatively: you will dedicate your life to the court. You will abide by its laws without question and with unwavering commitment. You will relinquish your freedom; you will not be permitted to leave Fontaine and will be bound to this place for eternity.â
A choked sob escaped your lips. No matter what you chose, your lifeâs work and passion would be extinguished. You would be forced to either become an actress in the courtâs performance or resign your soul to a watery grave.
Both option chained you to the Region of Hydro forever.
But one option at least granted you a semblance of freedomâa notion that you soon learned was as transitory as a bubble in water.
The crack of a cane against wood resounded through the Opera, quickly silencing the crowdâs mutterings over your sentence. âWhat is your decision?â
You could have heard a pin drop as the audience waited in rapt anticipation for your answer.
âIâŠI choose the latter,â you declared, tilting your chin up. You maintained direct eye contact with the Iudex all the while, holding onto your last bit of pride.
You could have sworn you saw Neuvillette release a breath of relief. âVery well. I hereby adjourn the court. Gardes, please escort the defendant to my office for further instruction.â
Two Gardes led you out of the Opera and onto an Aquabus to the city. They informed you that you would now be living in the Palais Mermonia and your duties would begin immediately. When you asked about retrieving your belongings and notifying your family, the Gardes exchanged glances.
âThat wonât be necessary,â one said cryptically. âMonsieur Neuvillette will page your relatives and have your possessions seized.â
You frowned, wishing to object, but the Palais doors loomed before you like the entrance to a monsterâs lair. You gulped but swallowed your fears, straightening your back pridefully as you were ushered inside and into the Chief Justiceâs office. The bolting of the lock from the outside set alarm bells off immediately.
Neuvillette stood from his seat as you walked in. He coughed awkwardly, red dusting across his pale complexion. âAh, Lady (Y/n). I do apologize for such a fast-paced series of events. You must be exhausted.â He motioned towards the sofa adjacent to his workspace. âPlease, sit.â
You blinked at him in surprise. What happened to the unwavering judge from the court? Why was he suddenly treating you kindly? And why in the Archonsâ names was he blushing of all things? Unsure how else to react, you obeyed and settled into your seat, with Neuvillette taking his own on the sofa across from you.
Neuvillette poured you a glass of what appeared to be plain water into an exquisitely ornamented cup. You took it wordlessly, noticing his eyes flare with a silver glow when your fingers brushed his own. Gripping his own cup, he raised the chalice towards you. âTo a long and dedicated future together.â
You sketched a brow curiously but raised your glass in tandem toâŠwhatever that was supposed to mean. âTo not being in prison, I guess.â
âIndeed.â A breathy chuckle followed. âNow, Iâm sure youâre wondering as to what this whole business regarding your sentence is.â Neuvillette took a long sip from his chalice. He frowned slightly when you simply placed yours on the coffee table separating the two of you. âAlthough you may have thought youâd be completing droll office work, your duties will be a tad unorthodox.â
At this, your brows furrowed. Wasnât that what all those employees you had passed in the Palais foyer had been doingâpushing papers? You had cringed at the dark bags under many of their eyes, at how many were asleep at their desks, imagining how similar youâll look once your sentence was completed. But based on Neuvilletteâs words, it sounded like you would be doing something very different.
Oh, Archons. Iâm fucked.
You braced yourself to speak, but Neuvillette beat you to it.
âYou are to be my wife.â
You blinked once, twice, waiting for the punchline of the joke.
Neuvillette merely stared at you with his hands folded across his lap, waiting for your response.
After a pregnant pause, you couldnât help the stunned scoff that escaped your lips. âYou canât be serious.â
âQuite, Iâm afraid.â
You shook your head. âWith all due respect, Monsieurââ
âPlease, call me Neuvillette.â
Ignoring him, you continued, âI did not agree to be your wife.â
The Chief Justice leaned back against the posh blue cushions of the sofa. âAlthough that may be the case, you are in no position to refuse. In fact, your sentence mandates that you follow my orders.â
You stood abruptly, sending your goblet toppling over and spilling its contents across the table. âMarriage was not a part of that sentence.â Which was ridiculous to begin with, you added to yourself. I mean, a life sentence for a pet name? Itâs almost like he wanted me arrested.
Neuvillette sighed and flicked his wrist, causing the chalice to right itself and the water to refill. âMarriage is the highest form of dedication, no? Is that not what you pledged to?â
âI dedicated my life to the court,â you clarified.
âMy dear, I am the court.â
You emitted a low hiss, turning to the door. âIâm leaving.â
Before you could take more than a step, Neuvillette moved towards you faster than a crack of lightning across the sea. His large frame straddled yours, pinning you against the sofa. He grabbed your dominant wrist, a foreign bubbling under your skin erecting the hairs on your arms. Your mind reached out for your hydro powers to defend yourself, only to be crushed with the realization that your vision had been confiscated at the court.
Despite your struggles, you could only watch in terror as a glowing silver-blue mark in the shape of a dragon burned across the length of your arm. The leviathanâs scaly body twisted in ringlets up your forearm and bicep, ending in a slender head with twin horns that crested your shoulder.
As soon as Neuvillette loosed his grip, you shoved him away, panting heavily. The mark had already disappeared, but you could still feel the ghost of it under your skin.âWhat have you done?â you whispered breathlessly.
In total contrast to your own contorted expression, Neuvillette appeared completely calm. He smoothed out his robes and adjusted his jabot. âI have lived for centuries, and I have many centuries more. Iâve merely gifted some of them to you.â
Your body began to shake, from fear, sadness, or rage you did not know. âI donât want them.â
âYou do remember that you promised to serve the court for eternity, donât you? How do you expect to persist by my side otherwise?â
Eyes locked on the exit, you tried for a different tactic. âTake me to the Fortress of Meropide.â
Neuvilletteâs expression darkened, his patience clearly thinning. âI will not.â
Your eyes shifted back to his. Although Neuvillette intimidated you beyond belief, youâd be damned if you didnât go down without fighting for your lifeâs hard work. âI want to change my sentence.â
He glanced down at your arm. âItâs a bit too late for that, my dear.â Taking your hand in his, he pulled you to his chest. His form towered over you, capable of resting his chin on the top of your head. âPlease, understand. I mean to keep you from harm, even if it means being your jailor.â
âYouâre insane,â you hissed, futility attempting to pull away. âLet go of me!â
Neuvilletteâs grip was relentless. You stilled when you felt claws ghost up your back in a silent warning. âThat is one thing I will never do.â
The fight in you slowly ebbed awayâfor now. Your resistance was clearly moot, like a gnat trying to down a dragon. Youâd have to play the long game to learn how to get under his skinâand how to rid your own of this new mark. âI will find a way out of this,â was all you could promise, refusing to meet his eyes.
A deep sigh sounded above you. Neuvillette took a step back, looking at you with such longing you thought youâd combust on the spot. With one last stroke of your cheek, he strode towards the officeâs exit and unlocked the door with a flick of his wrist. Looking over his shoulder, he fixed you with a forlorn gaze. âBy the time you realize your place here, there will be nothing for you to escape to. Only I will remain.â He once more turned his back to you and stepped out of the room.
You suddenly paled, realizing the implication of his words. If his declaration was true and you were to live as long as him, then your family, your career, the world as you know it would be completely gone. Your only company, your only solace, the only one who would remember your name, would be him. âWait, no, you canâtâ!â
He closed the doors.
~*~
Neuvillette was many things, but a liar was not one of them.
True to his word, you remained locked almost exclusively in the Palais Mermonia. On the rare occasions he let you outside, the Iudex served as your only company, diligently making sure you were hidden. Your vision was permanently taken, supposedly to prevent danger to yourself. It didnât go unnoticed when he would wear it on his hip at important or potentially volatile trials. When you finally askedâor growled at him, reallyâwhy he kept it on his person, he had merely frowned and replied, âI originally thought the idea of a fake vision preposterous, I admit. I have no need for one. Yet having it feels as if you are constantly by my side.â
The draconic tattoo he had branded onto your arm not only extended your lifespan but also gave you a minuscule drop of his abilitiesâthough only when you were in his presence (and most definitely not against himâyou had tried). That allowed the two of you to transport to and breath in the depths of Fontaine whenever you begged to go out. In his mind, it was perfectânot only was the sea his realm, but no one and nothing could touch you. You were his alone to hold, to see, to have.
Those trips were torture for you. Free, but trapped; floating, but tied down to the man who was supposed to be the symbol of justice.
You, on the other hand, had tried a variety of (fruitless) tactics to convince the judge to free you. Any attempt at conversation or advance in his part was met with either vitriol or indifference on your part. You had once tried to charm him into letting his guard down, hoping you could sneak away while he was preoccupied at the court. This plan epically backfired on you when he mistook your subtle touches as permission to devour you with kisses and love bites, covering you in bruises from his sharp teeth for the next week. You wouldnât so much as let him tap your shoulder for the next month afterâthe spark of silver in his eyes while he kissed you foretold of a deep, overwhelming desire that far surpassed simple kisses. You feared what might occur if the composed Chief Justice were given the opportunity to release his more primal urges.
And so, each day was passed much in the same:
1) Wake up on the floor or couch of his suite in the Palaisâlike hell youâd be sharing a bed with him. Oh, how he had tried in the beginning to usher you into bed, into his arms. It was childish, yes, but at least your refusal have you some semblance of autonomy.
2) Ponder on how you would greet Neuvillette that day.
3) Choose between fury or pretending he didnât exist, typically the latter.
4) Look for a way to escape after he left for the Opera. Fail.
5) Spend most of the day scouring court cases in his office for clues to overturn your cause. Fail again.
6) Look out the window pitifully at the water beyond the Court of Fontaine (were the levels rising?). You often thought of your family back in Mondstadt; what were they told of your imprisonment, if anything? How long had you been stuck with the Chief Justice? The days blurred like ink in water.
7) Immediately exit the office towards his attached suite the moment he returnedâany other room was preferable to his suffocating presence.
Today, though, he had chosen to interrupt your musings out the window before you could make your exit.
âYou know, I find the beauty of the bright sunlight is best appreciated from the indoors through a window.â
Turning your head from the glass pane, your attention was brought to the figure standing in the doorway. He was wearing nothing but a simple pair of dark blue slacks and a white tunic, his robes hooked over his arm. At the start of your captivity you had mused how strange it was to see him without his normal ornamentation; now his comparatively plain appearance was a daily sight for you.
You crossed your arms and leaned against the window, relishing the heat from the coastal sun against your back. It was nothing like the dark pits he practically dragged you to now that you could breathe underwater. âPersonally, I prefer to enjoy it with the company of a cool breeze by the shoreline.â
The Chief Justice loosed a deep sigh as he approached you. He extended his palm, caressing your cheek gently. âIf you desire it so, I will rearrange some meetings and escort youââ
Below the waves, where he clung to you like a Lumitoile to a rock? âNo need. Present company would ruin the experience. I prefer to be above water.â
Neuvillette had the audacity to wince at your retort. âSo you instead choose to wallow in your self-inflicted solitude?â
You wanted to laugh at the hurt edge to his voice. Self-inflicted your assâevery moment of your life now centered on him, depended on his permission. Solitude was a disguise for any reprieve you could get from his constant attempts to court you.
The ironic part was that, if he had approached you normally, you could have seen yourself falling for him. He brought and cooked your favorite foods and beverages, showered you with gifts and books on photography, and tried his utmost to make you comfortable.
But you knew it was as nothing but glitter in a gilded cage. Neuvillette had drowned your whole world. So no, you wouldnât act like any of this is normal.
Resisting the urge to bite his bare hand, you glared at your captor. âYou could simply, oh, I donât know, let me go.â
Neuvilletteâs jaw tightened. His patience might run deeper than the Trench of Elton, but it was not everlasting. âWeâve discussed this.â
At that, you shrugged his hand off. âCan I at least speak with my family? My friends?â
A pained look flickered across Neuvilletteâs face. âThat isnât possible.â
Your lip curled in response to his expression. âDonât act like you actually care.â
Pursing his lips, he settled onto the window seat next to you. Though you were twitching with the urge to escape, he placed a large hand on your thigh, a gentle warning. â(Y/n), thereâs something we must discuss.â
You narrowed your eyes, though your heart rate spiked. By now, he recognized your silence as a sign to continue.
âDo you wish to walk around the Court of Fontaine with me?â
Blinking, your throat dried. You swore you heard him wrong. âIâm sorry?â
Neuvillette squeezed your leg in what he thought was a comforting manner. His eyesâfuck, you had to admit they were wickedly beautiful, silver and sharp as a swordânever left your own. âYou have been justified in your anger with me. I have restricted you for far too long. I would like to extend an olive branch, if you willâan agreement that we will both retain civility. I will grant you freedoms, but you must adhere to your sentence. Any deviation will not be tolerated.â
Your head was spinning, so you didnât even consider the implications of his words. He was letting you out. âCan we go now?â
Neuvillette smiled softly. âOf course.â Standing, he offered you a hand. You tentatively took it, more awestruck than anything as he unlocked the doors to the outside. Youâd finally get to see your family, your colleagues, the sunâ!
Fontaine was unrecognizable.
The last time you seen the square of the Statue of the Seven, the roads were cobblestone. Now, strange machines roamed the paved streets, clearly serving as sentinels. None of the shops or restaurants were familiarâyour favorite coffee shop, where you had so many chats with Carole, was now boasting signs for upscale fashion. A Melusine hopped by, wearing a Gardeâs uniform, something that you remembered as being rare due to the increased chances of them being targeted. Your heart rate spiked in worry when the Melusine approached a group of children and their parents, only for a stunned expression to hit you when the creature was hugged by a little girl, her parents cooing in delight.
âWhereâŠwhat?â you stammered. Fontaine had seemingly changed overnightâat least in your experience of time. Dread pooled in your stomach.
You attempted to pull your arm away from him, but his grip on you was steadfast. That same pained look from before marred his handsome features. âI did not lie when I said you have nothing to return to.â The Chief Justice sounded melancholicâhe wished it hadnât come to this, but he had to eliminate any prompts for you to leave.
âNo, no.â Your heart dropped. âWhat⊠What year is it?â
The silence that followed was all you needed to know.
âHow many years has it been, Neuvillette?â you repeated, your voice cracking with a desperate tone.
For once, Neuvillette avoided eye contact with you. He simply gestured towards a bulletin board, where the latest issue of The Steambird (at least one thing was consistent) was posted. You tore it from its pin, choking back a sob as you read the date.
Hands shaking, the issue fell to the ground. It landed in a puddle, its edges slowing soaking and blurring the ink. A steady rain had started to fall, quickly turning into a torrential downpour.
It had been over four hundred years since Neuvillette had taken you.
If it werenât for Neuvilleteâs hand on your hip, you would have crumpled to your knees. âH-how?â
Neuvillete looked to the skies solemnly. âTime passes differently for us long-lived species.â You cringed at his use of us, and how he actually sounded remorseful. âBut this is our opportunity for a fresh start.â
Silent tears streamed down your face. For what could you do? Everyone and everything you knew was gone. Lost to the sea of time forever. You had nothing.
He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, placing a delicate kiss on the top of your head. âCry not, my little pearl. No matter how many centuries pass, you will always have me.â
~*~
Neuvillette was many things.
And now, just as he dreamed since the moment he set his eyes on you, he was your everything.
And yet, you refused to drown.
As the years flowed like water through a stream, you began to learn the beat of Neuvilletteâs dance. His emotions, his moods, his thoughts, all reflected themselves within the waltz of his life, and soon maneuvering around the steps became second nature to you. The balance of power laid within the count, and you were determined to be the one leading,
The dragon wanted to dance? So be it.
Youâd give him the most challenging dance of his life.
#yandere#neuvillette#yandere neuvillette#genshin impact#yandere genshin impact#yandere genshin x you#yandere genshin x reader#neuvillette x reader#fontaine#ao3 fanfic
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Trail planning begins for Rib Mountain State Park
The department anticipates a public engagement period as part of the trail planning process in early 2025.
The Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources today announced that it has begun the conceptual trail planning process for a property-wide trail plan at Rib Mountain State Park. The concept phase begins the implementation of the property master plan approved by the Natural Resources Board in December 2022. It includes hiking, climbing and bouldering, mountain biking, shared use, snowshoeing,âŠ
#Central Wisconsin Off-Road Cycling Coalition#Diane Brusoe#Friends of Rib Mountain State Park#Granite Peak Corp.#Greater Wausau Prosperity Partnership#Marathon County#Rib Mountain State Park#Village of Rib Mountain#Wisconsin Climberâs Association#Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources
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â đđđđ đđđđ đđđđđđđđđđđ đđđđđđ đđ đđ â
â ïž Characters: bf! toji zenin x gf! fem reader
â ïž Warnings: 18+, cunnilingus, explicit smut, nipple play, nicknames, established relationship, toji showing off his strength and his insatiable appetite for you.
â ïž Synopsis: Toji loves to get his hands on you when you slip on his t-shirts after a long night of love making and wants more.
A/N: a repost because tumblr loves to be a bish and send complaints abt one of my best works.
He's been at this for a while now.
Ever since Toji slid his hands up your thighs, smirking when learnt the absence of your panties, his chuckle in your ears makes you shudder.
"An open invite for me, huh sweetheart? Well, who am I to say no to that?"
So when you found yourself laying on the cold kitchen counter, bare for his eyes to feast upon, a blush streaks the plum of your cheeks. His eyes soften when they catch you blushing, but the predatory look never fades.
He hums and buries his raven head between your thighs, immediately gaining moans from you as his mouth greedily takes what he wanted.
"I eat pussy for myself." He'd said, the first time he ate you out.
Loud slurping sounds, provocative and loud, now fill the kitchen as the aroma of freshly made coffee and toast linger in the air.
"T-Toji."
You mewl, tugging at his free raven locks and your thighs threaten to close around his head. Calloused hands grip them open, squeezing or running his thumbs over your skin mindlessly.
Toji was a starved man, finally finding his elixir of life between your thighs, his own personal heaven. He was selfish with the way he eats you out but knew exactly what triggers you.
Your moans grow high-pitched when he slowly drives his tongue into your pussy, drawing the beginning of an orgasm from you. His slurps become louder; filthier. Your nipples tighten, and he notices the effect of his actions in your bodily reactions.
"Toji- Toji- please- please-"
"Shhh, little girl. You're distracting me."
He says in a reprimanding tone and hooks his brawny arms under your thighs, pulling you impossibly close to his greedy mouth.
"Ha- Toji!"
He doesn't stop at all.
You feel the peak of your orgasm unraveling quickly, but steadily, reducing all your moans into mewls of his name, your fingers tugging at your nipples.
He suddenly lets go of you, shock registering into your body when he slides his hands up your back, supporting your lower half and one around your neck, lifting you quite effortlessly, the position allowing him a lot more access to your pretty pussy as you squeal and your thighs twitch.
Toji's head is sandwiched between your thighs and he couldn't be more happier.
"I love your pussy. So wet and complaint for me."
He groans, the vibrations arousing goosebumps on your hypersensitive body. And then, his swollen lips suck on your clit so hard, your vision is reduced to black spots and then you come, his tongue going back to dive into your hole, not wasting a single drop of your juices.
"Fuck. You squirted."
Rising up from between your legs, the emerald green of his eyes blown wide with the lust occupying him. His mouth is red, coated in a sheen layer of your transparent juices and he darts out his tongue to lick it; and you groan, hiding your burning face behind your hands.
"You're so filthy." You tell him as you sit up, and he laughs, throwing his head back and eyes scrunching.
"Only for you, darling."
"Gimme my shirt. I'm cold and hungry." You pout, the coldness of the granite slab chilling you despite your previous activity.
"Nuh-uh. I'm hungry for your pussy. Breakfast can wait." He growls, sending another spark of desire to your belly. You don't have the opportunity to protest when he picks you up and makes his way to your shared room.
The neighbours hate the both of you for sure.
© 2023 all rights to multistan-247 - do not copy or modify.
#toji zenin#zenin toji#jjk anime#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk#jjk toji#fushiguro toji#toji fushiguro#toji fushiguro x reader#toji smut#toji fushiguro smut#jjk fanfic#toji x reader#toji x y/n#toji x you#jjk manga#jjk imagines#toji imagine#Spotify
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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Eighteen
Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.
Warnings: Nothing super specific, but things get pretty dark (at least in my opinion). Mentions of torture.
The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist
Masterlist of Masterlists
Azriel grabbed Rhys by the front of his jacket, hands shaking horribly despite all his efforts to stop. It had started this morning, when another disastrous attempt to talk to Andrian had left Azriel with his mind in shambles, knife pressed against his own throat. It had been going on for weeks now. Someway, somehow, Andrian would find a way to break through Azrielâs defenses and force him to relieve his worst memories. Sometimes he dreamt of his burning hands. Mostly he thought of you, and the day heâd nearly killed you.Â
âTell me you didnât,â Azriel growled desperately. âTell me!âÂ
It was too easy for him to pick out when his brother was speaking with Feyre, and something about the way Rhysand had been looking at himâ like he was a fraction of a second away from splintering into a million pieces â told Azriel enough about who had been sent for. You were the only one who could calm him. The only one who could do what he and Rhys had failed to do.Â
Violet eyes shone from a perfectly handsome face. A face he knew too well. A face that he wanted to punch right now.Â
âIâm afraid I canât, brother,â Rhysand responded gravely.Â
Azriel slammed his fist against the wall instead, taking out a chunk of granite that spit grey dust into the air. He swore beneath his breath, pacing the hallway and trying to steady his racing heart. Heâd never wanted you to see this place. Heâd never even wanted you to step foot on the island above, its rolling peaks a stark contrast to the tunnels below where Azriel conducted his business. Business that stained his hands a thousand shades of red.Â
âYouâve been working yourself ragged, Az, and Andrian still hasnât said anything. Not to you. Not to me. We need to know all we can about Koschei. Vassaâs on the brink of madness. Hennaâs dead. I canât even get past Andrianâs mental wards. What the fuck are we meant to do?âÂ
âSo you thought to go behind my back and bring Y/n into this?! Sheâs not something for you to use, Rhys.âÂ
âSheâs already in this mess.â Rhys reminded him, as he often did. His eyes softened as he looked to the locked door at the end of the hall with its small, rectangular window. Bars breaking up the lamplight glowing from within. âAnd you know sheâd agree this is the best course of action. Sheâll be able to do it.âÂ
Azrielâs hands shook. âGive me another week and Iâll get us the information we need. Tell Feyre to turn around. Donât bring Y/n here.â Donât let her see this part of me.
âThe boy doesnât have another week. He doesnât even have a day.âÂ
The shaking traveled throughout Azrielâs entire body. His eyes darkened and he began the process of hiding his heart away within the void that curled inside of him. That wicked beast that was always on the verge of swallowing him whole.Â
Feyre winnowed you both to the outskirts of the northern territories and you went from sweating in your fur-lined leathers to shivering in the knee deep snow. The Illyrian Mountains rose behind you like predatorial rows of shark teeth and the endless sea stretched in front, slate grey and empty except for lonely ripples of sea foam. Through the frosty haze you could make out a smattering of islands, each with their own tooth-like tips capped with snow and ice. Feyre looked at you, her eyes leaning more towards blue now that sheâd tapped into the Winter Courtâs power to stave off the cold.Â
The Warren was protected by wards that made winnowing impossible, so you let Feyre scoop you up in her powerful arms, wings growing from her back like unfurling shadows before the ground dropped away from her feet and she took off into the sky.Â
You clung to her shoulders, eyes slamming shut so you wouldnât have to look down at the churning black waters and the rocks they crashed against. If you were to fall now, you could only hope you drown before the waves ripped your body to pieces against the rocks like meat torn between a pair of canines.Â
You stayed frozen and tight as a coil until the rush of wind stopped and you no longer felt your stomach creeping up into your throat. You could have dropped to your knees and kissed the ground if you werenât sure your lips would freeze there. You did shove your hands into the gritty sand though, breathing slowly through your nose until you finally had the strength to stand.Â
Feyre led you down the long stretch of beach, waves whistling in the wind â a haunting, beautiful melody, like a woman crying.Â
Azriel had discovered The Warren centuries ago. After a particularly brutal brawl that had left him with a broken arm and cracked ribs, heâd taken to the skies, desperate to escape the hard packed floors and burning scent of sex mixed with alcohol that seemed to invade every corner of the Windhaven barracks. Heâd been fighting over a woman, a woman that had been dragged into the rowdy common room trembling with the telltale sign of a whisky haze over her burnt umber eyes, dress ripped and muddy.Â
Did it even matter that heâd brought her back untouched to that leaning house with its wooden slabs frosted over and the chimney coughing up black smoke like a diseased lung? Azriel had wondered as he flew without a destination in mind. And when heâd finally collapsed on the island, frozen ground beneath his hands and knees and spitting out blood from his cut up gums, his shadows had tugged him towards the gaping mouth of The Warren, urging him to explore a darkness that was his and his alone. It had been his escape. A safe place in the world that had so few. But when Rhysand became High Lord and he the Spymaster, Azriel hadnât hesitated to give up The Warren in the service of the Night Court, adding it to the long list of sacrifices he made so that he might actually start to feel like he deserved his place with his family.Â
You stilled in front of The Warrenâs entrance, black walls glittering and damp from sea spray. Jagged, cracked bone rocks hovered overhead like axes ready to fall, jutting out of a cliffside and curling over the beach in the shape of a hunched back or an unhinged jaw. Wind whistled from within like asthma â high-pitched and keening.Â
âThis is where you keep all your prisoners.â You werenât asking a question, merely stating a fact.Â
Feyre had had little time for explanations back at the House. Sheâd focused on defending your body against the frigid cold to come, her mind split between you and Rhysand as he worried over Azriel from miles away.Â
âNot all of them. Only the ones Azriel finds useful.âÂ
âThe ones he plans to torture for information.âÂ
From somewhere deep within the earth you swore you heard the clanging of chains, a growl, and a desperate groan that had the hair on your neck rising.Â
Feyreâs usual warmth was gone, replaced by something with more tact and less care. âThis isnât a place for the faint of heart, Y/n. And neither is Azriel. Heâs tried to hide this from you, but itâs as much a part of him as anything else and if you care for him as much as I believe you do, youâre going to need to get used to this.âÂ
There was the faintest flicker of doubt in your heart. âAndrian⊠heâs just a boy⊠you havenâtâAz hasnâtââ
âNo,â Feyre said quickly. Horrified. âAzriel found him weeks ago trying to slip back into Day Court. We brought him here because itâs the most heavily warded place in Prythian and because the world needs to be protected from him as much as he needs to be protected from the world.â She grabbed your hands. They felt cold as ice. âY/n. I swear to you, we havenât hurt that boy. We wonât hurt him.âÂ
âI know. I just⊠Iâm sorry, I donât know what I was thinking.â Already you felt sick to your stomach just for asking. Azriel was many things â dangerous, cruel to those he felt were deserving of it, maybe even murderous at times â but he was still Az⊠and you werenât afraid. Not even as you let Feyre lead you into The Warren, and you were swallowed whole. Â
The mouth of the cave quickly narrowed into a tunnel before turning at a severe angle and twisting like a corkscrew downward. If it werenât for you and Feyreâs glowing bodies, you might have missed one of The Warrenâs slick steps and tumbled down forever.Â
You passed by two offshoots, each branching out into their own secret tunnels that whispered and echoed and smelled faintly of blood. Coppery and sour.Â
One of the rooms you walked through smelled like metal and limestone. The rust-colored ground and drain in the center of the floor told you all you needed to know about its purpose and before you could stop yourself, before you could even think about whether this was truly a good idea, you found yourself pressing a hand against one of the chains hanging from the ceiling.Â
If Feyre was right and this was truly a part of Azriel â something horrible that needed to come with all of the good that he was â then you wanted to know. You felt that you had some right to know, and if it was the power the Mother had granted you, then you would use it when you saw fit.Â
Feyre froze when your power flooded the room without warning, feeling the energy and fury radiating off your skin without even turning to look at you. You kept the memories a safe distance away, but drank in the knowledge of every horrible hand that had hung from that ceiling like you were reading a list of names from a book. You read their crimes. You read every drop of blood that Azriel had spilled on the ground.Â
âY/n?â Feyre asked tentatively, fearfully, when you blinked and released the chain.Â
She had every hope the bond would snap in place for you soon and that youâd help end Azrielâs centuries of loneliness. That you might be the one to finally show him he was deserving of kindness. But to love Azriel as he was, with all his rough edges and the pain he could inflict as much as he carried⊠it was not for the faint of heart. Â
âI understand why Azriel wanted to hide this place from me. This part of him,â you said quietly and to no one in particular. Not even to Feyre. âBut he shouldnât have.â Your eyes turned harder than stone. âThey deserved it. Each and every one of them.âÂ
Feyre stood, shocked into silence, and it wasnât until you gripped her arm and nudged her into the next room that she found she was able to walk again.Â
You passed by more hallways and more rooms, some disturbingly clean and empty, others with chains hanging from the ceiling or littered on the floor. But the strangest part was, you could smell Azriel within these cramped walls, and that alone made you quicken your steps.Â
You chased that familiar scent, walking confidently through the dark and passing Feyre until you were spit out in a long, neat tunnel with one metal door at the end. Tendrils of shadow flickered from around the corner.Â
âAzriel?âÂ
Your heart pounded in your chest when you saw him leaning against the wall, hands folded behind his back. Rhysâs eyes flickered to you, then to his mate as she followed closely behind. Azriel stiffened, his eyes locked and heavy. Shadows tugged at his eyes and accentuated the sharpness of his cheeks. He looked like he hadnât slept since the day he left you⊠which wasnât so far from the truth. Because the whole time heâd been here, heâd been thinking of you, and the ways you might hate him for what he did and the sick corners of his soul. Forâ
You sailed into his arms, wrapping yourself around his torso and pressing your face into the hollow of his neck. Part of your mind chastised you, calling you silly and desperate as it reminded you it had only been ten days since youâd last seen him. But you didnât care. It felt far longer than that. Too long.Â
You needed this almost as much as he did.Â
You disappeared behind his wings, cocooned safely in membranous folds and shadows that kissed your skin. Azriel himself buried his face in your hair, feeling some of his worst worries dissipate. You hadnât run away. You hadnât been so disgusted as to leave just yet.Â
âY/n,â he murmured your name before kissing your temple. âGods, I missed you.âÂ
âI would hope so.â You murmured into the curve of his jaw, âI might be a boring bookworm but Iâm better company than this place.âÂ
Azriel winced. âYou have no idea.â
You missed the pointed look that Rhys and Feyre threw your way, but Azriel didnât. He was tall enough to see over your head as Feyre pointed to the door at the end of the hallway, eyes glistening. They had come here for a purpose, and the sooner it was over with, the sooner they could all go home.Â
Azrielâs arms tightened around you. âI didnât want you to come here. I didnât want⊠I didnât want you to see the things I do.âÂ
âI know.â You traced the curve of his jaw, thumb smoothing over his cheek. âBut Iâm not afraid, Azriel.âÂ
His eyes flickered from fear to relief to love, like one of those picture books you had to flip through to see the scene play out.Â
âYouâre not?âÂ
You shook your head no. Then you kissed him on the lips and whispered the words for him and him alone. âI trust you. Youâre the most terrifying thing here anyway, and youâre mine.âÂ
Yours.Â
Azriel quitel liked the sound of that.Â
Even here in the dungeons burrowed beneath empty frozen lands, Azriel found it within him to hope. Horrid creatures might be hidden elsewhere, creeping like slugs under the earth that heâd have to crush beneath his boot or tear treasured secrets from, but for now you were still by his side. For now you were still his and he would always be yours.Â
You looped your arm through his and moved towards that door at the end of the hallway, steeling yourself for what you already knew was behind it.Â
The light from the barred window flashed warm and cool then warm again. Light warped and pranced. The scent of rot hung in the air, humid and choking. You touched the door handle, feeling the magic fall away like it recognized you and opened up into a makeshift, but quaint bedroom. There were no windows here for there was nothing to see below ground, but some of Feyreâs landscape paintings hung on the wall. Faelights bloomed overhead, throwing light and heat on a childâs bed with green sheets, a table, and a bookcase overflowing with an assortment of puzzles and novels and toys. You felt your blood turn cold. Theyâd once belonged to Nyx before being repurposed for the little boy trembling on the floor.Â
You stared at him in horror.Â
The little boy whoâd been so violently bright that morning in the marketplace was dull. Although he was wearing fresh clothes, his skin had turned a stone gray, black marks dotting his once silken, silver skin like a disease. He was aware of his condition, weeping on the plush rug cut in the shape of a flower as he batted at his arms, willing them to turn healthy again.Â
âNo no no no no no,â he sobbed. He grabbed at his pillowy hair in frustration and tugged. A cloud of fragile strands came away and he cried harder, trying to stick them back to his scalp.Â
Rhysandâs face was broken and pale. He tried not to look at Andrian. He was too young. Reminded him too much of his own son.Â
âYou were right.â Rhysandâs voice was hollow, laced with a pain that grabbed your throat and squeezed. âKoschei did kill him. Heâs been dead this whole time.â
âNO!â Andrian screamed. âHE DIDNâT! HE PROTECTED ME!âÂ
Fat tears rolled out of filmy eyes, dusty and brown as pond water. Rage filled him with new energy and he tried to attack your mind as heâd already done with Azriel. But there was something altogether different about your magic, something flexible that morphed and rearranged your mental walls until it felt like he was trying to attack himself.Â
He gave up when your walls didnât fall, and chose the physical route instead. You recoiled as he took a swipe, bony arms reaching out in an awkward lunge. But his legs were too weak and crumpled beneath him. He looked like a fish laid out to rot on a summer day â bloated and slick.Â
âKoschei brought him back to life for his powersââ
âHE LOVES ME! PAPA LOVES ME!âÂ
âTo use as he saw fit when the time was right.â
âBut he canât survive being separated for so long from Koscheiâs power, can he?âÂ
Just like Vassa. Left on their own without their maker they couldnât handle the curses that had been placed on them. Theyâd bend until they broke⊠unless they found another wayâŠÂ
âThe killings,â You murmured as the pieces slowly fell into place, âHe killed those Librarians and the tailor and the floristâŠâ You didnât want to be right about this. You prayed to the Mother that you were wrong.Â
But Azriel read the thoughts in your eyes and nodded. Feyre could only stand still and Rhysand couldnât do more than speak out in that dead voice of his.Â
Andrian had killed those fae, not just to send a message, but because that was the price for going against nature, for being brought back from the dead. Power demanded balance. To stay alive, Andrian had needed others to take his place. Those Librarians and the Velarians hadnât been murdered. Theyâd been sacrificed.Â
What Koschei had done to this boy â what heâd turned him into â made you want to crawl into a dark corner and stay there forever.Â
Andrianâs sobs died out. A crack of lightning followed by unnerving silence that had Azrielâs blood freezing in his veins. Andrian wasnât much older than heâd been when heâd first been tossed into that dark cellar. When his brothers had set his hands aflame.Â
âHe loves me,â he declared, as if saying it would make it true. He stayed curled up in a ball on the floor, rocking back and forth on his heels. âHe stayed when Henna left me. He wasnât afraid of me like the others. He took care of me.â
But Koschei hadnât taken care of him. Heâd taught Andrian to love him. To worship him, because thatâs what he craved above all else. Heâd helped the boy control his powers and had allowed him to live so he could send him off to die when it was most convenient. Youâd thought Henna was Koscheiâs perfect soldier, but you were wrong. Andrian was. Heâd been broken and molded into something that should never have existed. Heâd been sent to Prythian after his sisterâs death to take her place. A boy who would have no choice but to return to the lake or die trying.Â
And he was dying. You could see it clear as day. Two teeth clinked onto the floor and Andrianâs hands flew up to his mouth. He whimpered, eyes locking on you like you might be able to fix this.Â
You wanted to beg Rhys and Feyre to do something, to fix him, but it was a useless endeavor. They wouldnât have brought you here if they could just reach into Andrianâs mind and end it all peacefully. Andrian was too powerful for that. But you could use another way.Â
You approached him like a wild, injured animal, grimacing when he tried to run at you only for his ankle to twist and then snap. He fell to the floor in a pathetic sprawl.Â
âHey there, little feather.âÂ
Andrian paused at that familiar nickname, watery eyes looking up. You said it just like Henna had once upon a time. The same inflection in a differently pitched voice. His lips trembled.Â
âShe left me.âÂ
You shook your head before kneeling on the ground in front of him. He smelled of death. It clung to his linen shirt and trousers. It clung to the few strands of hair still woven into his scalp, skin so thin you could make out his skull.Â
âShe didnât leave you, Andrian.â You poured your voice out over him, as soothing as you could make it, forcing the tears down. âShe thought youâd died and that youâd stayed dead. She had a little ceremony for you out near the willow tree and buried your favorite toy beneath it with a handful of water lilies. Do you remember it? The little wooden doll you dressed up like a soldier with the red cap and the silver shoes?âÂ
He clamped his hands over his ears, shaking his head while his weak neck teetered dangerously atop his shoulders.Â
âAndrianââ You pulled his hands away and in a bold, dangerous move brought them to your temple and slowly lowered your mental wards. You didnât give him free reign, but rather guided him through snippets of memories youâd taken from Henna before her death. They all revolved around him. Before, and even after Koschei had poisoned their minds, Andrian had remained her true priority.Â
The boyâs eyes flashed from anger to confusion then, finally, to despair.
âShe didnât leave you.âÂ
Andrian waited a few moments that had your heart seizing, then rushed into your arms, tightening them like a vice around your shoulders and burying his face in your hair. You held your breath, but tightened your grip. You werenât his sister, but you were the closest thing he had.Â
Slowly, like sand falling through an hourglass, you felt his arms weaken and fall from your shoulders. He stared at you, wide and terrified as his hand snapped off at the wrist and fell to your side in a grey heap.Â
âMake it stop. Please make it stop.â
You smoothed back his hair, shoving down the tears that threatened to fall. His eyes were white now and unseeing. âItâs ok, little feather. Itâs ok.âÂ
âI donâtââ Even his voice was crumbling apart. Raspy and broken like cracked glass. He had little time left. The fight in him gone. âI donât want to go. I donât want to go to that dark place. Please donât make me go.â Â
Azriel had been watching the entire time, trying not to picture the little boy with dark hair, weak wings, and bandaged hands. He went so, so still.Â
âHey, hey, itâs ok. Itâs going to be ok.â You promised. You forced your trembling lips into a smile.Â
He took in a rasping breath. âWill you go with me this time, Henna? Please.âÂ
You gritted your teeth, brows furrowed in an effort to stay here instead of turning and sprinting back to the surface.Â
âI will. Thatâs why I cameâ You brushed his hair away from his forehead, saying nothing when the wispy white strands were torn away from his scalp like silk⊠just like the memories of Koscheiâs lake you plucked from his mind without him knowing. You swallowed the pain of what you knew was coming. âI wonât let you be alone.âÂ
He went quiet after that. Maybe his voice had deteriorated beyond saving, maybe he finally felt at peace. All you knew is that you needed to keep brushing his hair and holding onto his hand when he laid down and placed his head in your lap. He was like a little windup doll that had run out of string. He kept breathing until he finally stopped.Â
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Author's Note:
So... this was a rather sad one, bit of a tonal shift if you ask me, but I wanted to wrap up the stuff with Henna and Andrian before we continue on to other things.
BUT, you have to appreciate when Y/n walks into what's effectively a torture chamber and goes "yeah, nope, still in love with Azriel." It's just one of those things that gets brushed under the rug but like... this guy's WHOLE JOB is inflicting pain upon people.... and you know what, it's a fantasy book, so who the hell cares. We stan Y/n being supportive of Azriel's career lol
#the shadowsinger and the inkbird#azriel x reader#azriel x y/n#azriel x you#acotar fanfiction#azriel x reader slowburn#azriel shadowsinger
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Lemon cake â§
Plot: Youâre his cute little wife, happily waiting for him to come home.
The rumbling roar of his motorcycle growling up the driveway had your face instantly lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning.
Toji was finally home after being gone for that extended undercover op - the first real solo mission he'd taken since you both decided to get married six months ago.
You barely had a chance to set down the mixing bowl cradled against your apron-covered belly before the front door was banging open to admit your husband's hulking, sweat-slick frame stomping across the threshold in a cloud of gunpowder and grime.
"Toji!" Came your gleeful squeal of delight as you scrambled towards those outstretched arms opening to envelop your petite figure against his heaving chest at last.
Nothing could've prepared you for just how fiercely those steel bands would clutch you close once they encircled your waist, though.
As if he'd been withering away without your warmth to cling to while facing down whatever fresh hells the past weeks had dragged him through beyond those city limits.
"Missed you so damn much, baby..." came the deep, guttural rasp muffled into the crown of your soft tresses while his battle-roughened palms roamed up and down your arched spine in long, soothing sweeps.
Like a man dying of thirst finally gulping down the most deliriously refreshing oasis.
Even the woodsy cologne teasing your senses beneath all those lingering metallic and cordite odors couldn't disguise just how eager he was to soak up your delicate floral fragrance again.
Taking heady lungfuls directly from the sensitive curve where your shoulder met your throat as he swayed you both lightly while cradling you so reverently against that granite-sculpted torso.
"I can tell..." you giggled out through beaming cheeks squished against that solid wall of muscle.
Making a show of pinching your nose shut and leaning back with a dramatized look of disgust to take in his weathered, disheveled appearance head-to-toe.
"Youâre stinking, mister! What was this mission you went on - crawling through a septic tank?"
That deep timbre rumbled out past his smirking lips while one large palm cupped the back of your tousled crown to guide you forward again for a lingering brush against your forehead.
Tender as a whisper of gratitude for welcoming him back to your shared sanctuary after facing the ugliness of the world beyond too long...too lonely without your healing glow to guide him home once more.
"Let me rinse off this filth then we can snuggle back up on the couch and I'll tell you all about it, doll..."
Punctuating the promise with a gratuitous squeeze over your trim waist to savor that tiny, soft frame of yours safe in his crushing embrace once more.
"...Right after I take a sniff of whatever mouthwatering treat you got baking back there."
Squirming out of his covetous clutches with a dismissive roll of your eyes, you swatted his bicep before padding back over to the industrial oven's open portal just as the rich citrus zest began wafting forth on a fresh wave of heat pouring into the kitchen.
"Lemon cake - your favorite."
You sent him a cheeky smirk over one bare shoulder as the first molten golden peaks came spilling out.
"Figured you'd be too strung-out from your solo run to want a full spread waiting. So I made sure to have dessert ready for when you finally dragged that ass of yours back here again."
The grin bisecting those ruggedly chiseled features was positively rapacious now. Gray irises already devouring every succulent curve of your flushed, glistening silhouette framed within the oven's honeyed glow while he shed his combat boots to recline back onto the plush leather sofa.
"Less yappin', more strippin', Pipsqueak...then bring that sweet peach right over so we can kill two birds with one load of cream filling together."
With a derisive albeit thoroughly entertained scoff tossed over your shoulder, you bit back the indulgent smile tugging at your mouth before reaching up to unfasten your apron strings one-handed.
Just like that, that infuriatingly cocky beast was back on the prowl - chasing your suddenly racing pulse with each molten syllable leaking out past those sensuous lips already glistening with promise.
As if he'd only been lying in wait to pounce on that tantalizing opportunity to make up for all your nights spent far too cold and lonely without him crowding his overwhelming presence back where it belonged.
Maybe there wouldn't be any 'snuggling' for the next few hours after all...just another brand of delicious perspiration dripping between your tangled bodies throughout this indulgent reunion instead.
But what you agreed on, is that you werenât approaching this man until he took a very long shower.
#fluff#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk x fem!reader#jjk fluff#jjk headcanons#jjk toji#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#toji x you#toji x y/n#Toji x sukuna wtf is that?#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushigro x reader#toji fushiguro x you#toji fluff
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Sugar Loaf Mountain, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil: Sugarloaf Mountain is a peak situated in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, on a peninsula at the mouth of Guanabara Bay. Rising 396 m above the harbor, the peak is named for its resemblance to the traditional shape of concentrated refined loaf sugar. It is known worldwide for its cableway and panoramic views of the city and beyond. The mountain is one of several monolithic granite and quartz mountains that rise straight from the water's edge around Rio de Janeiro. Wikipedia
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