#best skin care treatment in the new city

[duskandcobalt]

Everywhere, Everything: Chapter Five

Chapter Summary: On her last night in Velaris before she heads home, Elain and Azriel finally gets a chance to talk about what's going on between them.

Word Count: 5.9k

Missed the first four chapters? You can find the Masterlist for this fic here 🥰

A/N: As always, thank you for all the love on the last chapter of this fic. It's always so much fun to hear what you guys think. An extra thank you for your patience with me in getting chapter five out. This past month has been a rough one and I haven't been writing much because of it but I finally managed to sit down and finish this chapter and I'm happy with how it turned out. I hope you are too. As always, I must remind you that this is a slow burn and we must get through a heavy dose of angst before we can reap our reward. The good news is, the reward is coming very soon.

ENJOY XX

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The first time Elain had sex with Graysen was also the first time he’d asked her about the necklace. 

It was the last week of January and he’d invited her back to his apartment after he’d taken her out to dinner at a glamorous hotel that offered unbelievable views of the city for their fourth date. She’d seen the invitation for what it was. Knew exactly what he had in mind from the way he’d lowered his voice to ask her, the pad of his thumb sliding over her bottom lip. Elain had only hesitated for a moment before she’d accepted his offer, Nesta’s voice in her head from a night years ago when she imparted some wisdom to Feyre after a particularly bad breakup, her hands on Feyre’s shoulders as she looked into her teary eyes. 

“Fey, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.” 

Elain had laughed at her sister’s advice at the time but standing there outside the restaurant that night, looking at Graysen as snowflakes drifted lazily from the dark winter to sky to cling to her hair and eyelashes, she’d decided that she wanted to put Nesta’s advice to the test.

She’d spent weeks in a daze, unable to sleep as the memory of Christmas night played on repeat in her mind as if it was some sort of faulty film reel incapable of moving past a certain scene and insistent on torturing her. She had grown sick of it - sick of the guilt that consumed her for still daring to think of Azriel. For wanting him again even though she had been the one to leave. 

Dating Graysen had only done so much to take the edge off, providing her a few hours of distraction each week, but she needed more. She needed to attempt to replace the phantom feeling of Azriel’s weight on top of her, the feeling of him inside her.

In a way, sleeping with Graysen had helped. She’d always liked sex. She enjoyed being close to another person, appreciated the immediate intimacy that came with having a pair of hands gripping her hips and someone’s lips on her skin. In the few times that she’d pondered what Graysen would be like in bed, she’d suspected that he would be much like the other guys she’d been with over the years and she’d been right. 

His initial careful kisses had quickly progressed to deeper, bruising ones. The gentle hands that had slowly undone the zipper on the back of her dress had transitioned into firm hands that held her down and maneuvered her whichever way he liked, taking her how he wanted without taking a second to even check if she enjoyed the things he did.

Elain was used to this treatment. The rough sex. She’d come to like it - crave it, even. But every now and then, there was an occasional moment where her partner would leave and she’d be left by herself in a cold bed, thinking about things a little too long until angry tears welled in her eyes at the realisation that most of the men she’d been with felt entitled to do whatever they wanted to her. That no matter how respectful they may have been towards her or how much they genuinely liked her, they all seemed to get off on debauching a girl that was otherwise quite reserved. Graysen had been no different and because she’d always desired touch, she couldn’t help but take it however it was presented to her. 

Graysen had taken the small golden pendant in between his fingers minutes after they’d finished, propping himself up on one elbow until his shadow loomed over her. His thumb had dragged over the engraving on the front - smoothing over the intricately detailed rose- before he flipped it over to study the back, turning it this way and that until it caught the little bit of dim light streaming in his window from the streetlamp outside. 

“What’s the deal with this?” He’d asked her, the slightest edge to his voice. “You never take it off.”

Elain had tried her best not to freeze at the question but she couldn’t help the way her heart stopped for a split second before her heart rate picked up again, slamming against her chest like an anvil. She gently took the pendant back from him, easing it out of his grip to press it tight against her chest until she knew it would leave an oval shaped indentation on her bare skin. It was a grounding tactic, something she did to bring herself back into her body whenever her anxiety veered out of control.

What was she supposed to tell him? How could she begin to explain the necklace that she’d worn religiously every single day for the last four years? The sentimental value that such a small object held? 

She couldn’t exactly tell him that every time she touched it, she thought of the hands that had made it just for her, thought of the way those same hands had grazed her skin the night Azriel had fastened it around her neck and all the things those hands had done to her the last time she’d visited home before she started dating Graysen. When she’d been propped up on Azriel’s kitchen counter and splayed out in his bed. 

There was no simple way to explain that she’d never mustered up the courage to ask whether the tiny ‘A’ he’d engraved on the back stood for her last name or his first. 

Instead, Elain had settled for the most honest answer she was willing to give him at the time. 

“It was a birthday gift from a friend back home.” 

She’d never thought that they’d get to the point where she’d have to divulge exactly who that friend was, let alone have that friend and her boyfriend in the same room together. She’d been a fool to think that Graysen wouldn’t put two and two together and last night she’d been well and truly caught out. She’d stood in front of him like a deer in headlights, one arm wrapped defensively around her stomach while her other hand clutched the necklace tight in between her fingers as if she was afraid that he’d reach out and pry it right off of her. 

“Is he or is he not the friend that gave you that necklace, Elain?” Graysen had asked her once more, his lips pressed together in a firm line. 

Elain had hesitated for a moment but she knew there was no way around this. There was no lie she could possibly make up to steer him away from the truth. It was plain as day who had given her that necklace and so all she could do was just nod silently and try to keep her hands from shaking.

“Unbelievable,” Graysen ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the short strands. “He’s not just a fucking friend then, is he? Didn’t seem like he goes around making jewelry for all of his friends.” 

He was right. Azriel had never made anything for anyone except her. It was something that Feyre and Nesta never let him forget.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Elain took a deep breath, dropping her necklace back down and crossing her arms in front of her chest. “A friend made me a necklace for my birthday. There’s nothing else to it.”

“Did you date him?” He’d asked, his gaze unwavering as he stared her down. Daring her to try and lie to him.

“No.” Elain answered easily and honestly. “We never dated. Never even came close to it.” 

Even if she’d spent plenty of time daydreaming of what it would be like to date Azriel, she’d never pursued anything more with him for reasons that were all too complicated to explain.

“But you’ve fucked him.” 

He hadn’t phrased it as a question. It was a statement, his shoulders squared and his voice sure. 

Elain had hesitated a second too long and she watched as something settled in his eyes that made her realise that he’d been hoping he’d been wrong and was sorely disappointed to find out that his assumption was correct.  

“How many times?”

She had scoffed, shaking her head. Couldn’t believe that he would have the audacity to even ask her that question. 

She’d been about to open her mouth to argue back, to ask him what number would qualify as too many times or if knowing how many times she’d slept with Azriel would affect anything, but the sound of footsteps running down the hallway caused her to pause. 

She’d been saved by her nephew who had popped his little curly-haired head around the door to Rhysand’s study to innocently ask if she’d read him a book before bed.

Elain hadn’t even spared a second to look at Graysen again before taking Nyx’s small hand and allowing him to lead her up the stairs to his bedroom where he spent entirely too long picking out his book for the night. 

She slipped out of Nyx’s room an hour or so later, only padding down to the kitchen to say goodnight to Feyre and Rhys, before heading back upstairs. She’d been simultaneously relieved and disappointed that Azriel had left just ten minutes before with Nesta and Cassian. 

Elain had tiptoed into the room she and Graysen had taken over for the weekend, had quickly changed and silently crawled into bed, facing away from Graysen who excused himself to bed not long after their ill-fated conversation. He’d sidled up to her after a couple minutes, pulling her back against his chest while one hand slid up her stomach to cup her breast. 

“Gray,” she tried her best not to flinch away from his touch. “We can’t. Not here.”

“El,” he muttered into her hair. “Come on.”

“Thought you were mad at me,” she couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped her as the hand that wasn’t circling her nipple dipped under the waistband of her underwear.

“You can’t blame me for being jealous when someone else looks at you like that.” His teeth scraped over the sliver of skin that the stretched out neckline of her shirt left exposed.

“There’s nothing to be jealous of,” Elain whispered, biting down on her lip as he turned her around and pulled her on top of him. 

He ground his hips upwards, letting her feel him hard against her. “Prove it to me.” 

She wasn’t particularly in the mood for this but she relented, allowing him to lift her shirt over her head before she bent down and pressed kisses all the way down the center of his chest. 

This was the opportunity she needed - not to take her mind off anything that had happened that day. There was nothing that could keep those memories at bay. It was simply a distraction, exactly what she needed to hopefully keep Graysen from asking more questions that she wasn’t ready to answer.

She’d give him this, let him have her just how he liked while her mind wandered elsewhere. To a place where the hands on hips weren’t his but someone else’s. To a night that featured her fingers buried in dark hair while a pair of hazel eyes looked up at her from between her thighs. It was wrong - so unbelievably wrong - to think about someone else in a moment like that. But she couldn’t help it. Couldn’t bring herself to feel guilty as she let herself get lost in the fantasy of tattooed, golden skin sliding over her own bare skin.  She was only thankful that Graysen’s hand was over her mouth to keep her quiet because if it hadn’t been, she would’ve had to fight to keep a different name from slipping out from between her lips. 

One more night. She just needed to make it through one more night and then she could go back to her new city and do what she did best - pretend that the life she had in this town, and the person that she was when she was here, didn’t exist at all. 

…

A few months before their wedding, Nesta and Cassian had moved to a sprawling property on the outskirts of Velaris that featured a gorgeous ranch style home complete with the porch of Elain’s dreams - one that wrapped around the entire perimeter of the house and featured a built-in swing to the right of the front door. It was picture book perfect and it helped to ease the loss both Feyre and Elain felt when Nesta moved… even if she was only a forty-five minute drive away. 

Elain had always looked forward to spending a weekend at Nesta and Cassian’s. She and Feyre would pack a bag and head up to their cousin’s house where the three of them would sit shoulder to shoulder on the swing, a thick blanket draped across their laps as they watched the sun set over the mountains. If they were lucky, Cassian would bring them snacks and drinks until either bugs or the cold sent the three of them heading back inside. 

This time, instead of a gossip filled car ride with her sister, Elain and Graysen had made the journey in almost complete silence. She had hoped that they’d made their peace last night but when she’d awoken this morning, it was clear that there was still some awkwardness lingering between them… perhaps at the knowledge that the subject of their argument would be sharing a wall with them tonight.

He hadn’t left her alone for even a second since they’d walked into the house to find Azriel already there, a dish towel slung over his shoulder as he chopped onions for whatever it was Nesta had on the menu for the evening. Even when she went to greet Azriel with a hug, deciding that it would be more suspicious if she greeted him any differently today, Graysen’s fingers had stayed on her back.

She remained patient with him, pushing aside the anxiety she felt at his constant proximity. She did her best to reassure him any way she could that he had nothing to worry about, all the while hoping that maybe she could convince herself of the very same thing in the process.

There had been no ducking out of his arms or dodging his kisses tonight. There had only been soft smiles and reassuring touches at all the right moments. Still, she couldn’t help that as she stood around the kitchen counter with her family - her attention had shifted, catching the subtle flex of Azriel’s forearms as he leant forward, his hands wrapping around the lip of the counter as he spoke to Cassian.

It was the smallest movement, barely noticeable, yet it triggered something in her brain that thrust her straight back into the memory that she’d tried and failed to avoid for the past few months. 

Suddenly, she couldn’t concentrate on anything else, unable to tear her eyes away from the familiar ridges and veins of his hands. The heat of Graysen’s palm flat against the middle of her back faded into nothing as she remembered the taste of cinnamon and cream. Remembered the way she had once been perched on a counter so similar to the one they were currently standing around. The easy way Azriel had slotted himself between her knees, her dress rising up her thighs. The feeling of his fingers dragging up her legs until they slipped under her hem. The gentleness with which he’d touched her. She swore she could feel his breath against her neck. Swore she could hear the things he’d whispered into her ear that night. 

“Helloooo… Earth to Elain!” Feyre’s voice brought her back to reality, her sister’s hand waving in front of her face as Elain’s vision cleared and she attempted to remember where the hell she was and what she was doing. “I asked if you wanted another drink?” 

Elain could only nod, afraid of how her voice might betray her if she attempted to speak. It didn’t help that she was all too aware of the way Graysen watched her, blue eyes once again filled with the suspicion she’d been working so hard to keep at bay as he  tracked her gaze to the pair of hazel eyes that were now staring directly back at her from the other side of the counter.

She readily accepted the margarita Feyre handed her, not wasting any time before downing half of it in one go. She’d never needed a drink more in her entire life. 

… 

Azriel stood directly outside the kitchen. He hadn’t turned any lights on when he’d wandered out a little while ago so it was just him, the stars, and the tiny smoldering ember of amber light flickering at the end of the lit cigarette slotted in between his index and middle finger.

He was utterly exhausted, eyes bleary as he tried and failed to link the stars together to form a constellation. He’d tried to fall asleep but he was too distracted by racing thoughts of the way Elain had looked at him from across the kitchen counter. The fleeting want that had appeared in her eyes - there and gone in a second, a lingering blush on her cheeks the only evidence that he hadn’t imagined the whole thing. He told himself it was just the margarita in her hands that had caused the sudden rush of heat to her cheeks but he knew her better than that. He knew all her tells. 

That’s why it had hurt even more to see her disappear down the hallway and into her room, her piece-of-shit boyfriend in tow. Azriel didn’t know how long he’d lasted laying in bed before he’d gotten back up and stumbled outside, too paranoid about each and every noise that he could hear from the room that shared a wall with the one he stayed in each time he found himself crashing at Nesta and Cassian’s for the night. 

If Graysen had been annoying at Nyx’s party yesterday, he’d been ever worse this evening because he’d scaled up the charisma and had seemed hell bent on befriending Azriel only to then become increasingly quietly irritated when Azriel made it clear that he was completely disinterested in anything that even remotely hinted at any sort of camaraderie.

He’d also taken to being even clingier with Elain. Hadn’t given her even a second to breathe all night, trailing behind her every chance he got, pulling her back into his side any time she strayed more than a few inches away. Even stranger, Elain had seemed intent on appeasing him and had stayed faithfully by Graysen’s side the entire time. She hadn’t even disappeared for a moment alone with Feyre and Nesta to talk about whatever the hell those three talked about whenever they were left alone together. All Azriel knew was that it usually resulted in raised voices, either in the form of an argument or incomprehensible half sentences interrupted by high pitched giggles as they all spoke over each other. 

Azriel saw Graysen’s overbearing behaviour for what it was - insecurity. 

Insecurity that came with a front row seat to the realisation that his prized girlfriend had an entire life before him. Without him. That she had family and friends that cared about her. 

Azriel had a feeling Elain’s life in Meadowview revolved heavily around Graysen. They probably spent time with his friends. Went to his favourite restaurants. Did his favourite activities. He wondered if she’d managed to retain any part of herself when she was halfway around the country, isolated in a bubble with Graysen, with no real escape other than her job. 

Maybe it wasn’t fair to jump to conclusions, to assume that she hadn’t been able to maintain a sense of self. He hoped for the best, desperately wanted to be wrong, but he knew her too well to know that he most likely wasn’t far off.  

He wanted to talk to her about it to try and decipher for himself exactly how she was doing but he hadn’t been able to get her alone - either because she’d been avoiding him or because of the five foot ten, blonde, walking trust fund  who’d been glued to her hip for the past eight hours. 

That’s why when the lamp in the kitchen switched on, the soft golden glow illuminating the window over the sink, it felt like a prayer was answered. 

He didn’t know exactly how he knew that she’d been the source of that light or that she’d be the one to walk outside but he knew when he turned to look, she’d be there - hair gilded by the light behind her. It was something about the gentle way the storm door creaked open, the feather light footsteps against the wooden floorboards. Something about the even, familiar rhythm of her breath.

He’d managed to get in one last deep drag of his cigarette before she was standing beside him, close enough that her arm brushed his. She reached up, lazily taking the cigarette from his fingers. She studied it and for one singular moment, he wondered if she’d surprise them both and take it between her lips. But this was Elain and so all he could do was huff out an amused laugh as she frowned, letting the cigarette fall to the floor until she could snub it out with her slipper covered foot. 

“Filthy habit,” Elain muttered. 

It was only then that he really allowed himself to look at her. He was thankful for the little bit of light from the kitchen lamp as his eyes traveled from her feet and up her bare legs to the hint of lilac shorts that he could only see the ruffled hem of because they were largely covered by the sweatshirt that fell right down to the top of her thighs. 

It was a Velaris University sweatshirt that at one point had been black but now resembled a faded gray and included a smattering of tiny holes around the stretched out collar. That sweatshirt had been missing from his closet for the better part of a decade. She’d had it in her possession for so long that Azriel wasn’t entirely sure that she would even remember who its original owner had been. It’s why he didn’t let himself read too much into her wearing that particular sweatshirt while sharing a bed with someone else. 

His eyes continued their journey upwards, over those full lips and the perfect slope of her nose. All the way up to drowsy, brown eyes and the tousled hair that he hoped and prayed was just the result of a restless night’s sleep and not the other option that sprung  to mind. 

Her eyes were fixed on him, clearly drinking in the sight of him just like she’d done when he’d first walked into Nyx’s party. 

There was a beat of silence between them, neither of them really knowing where to begin now that they were alone together. 

“Hi.” Her voice was barely a squeak, nervous and high and he couldn’t stand it. Hated this awkwardness between them. Hated that she felt any level of unease around him. 

“Trouble sleeping?” He raised an eyebrow, offering her a slow, sleepy smile that he hoped would work to put her at ease. 

Satisfaction settled in his chest when he saw her shoulders relax a little, at least a fraction of the tension she held within her melting into the night. 

He fought the urge to reach out and touch her, to place a hand on the back of her neck and slide his thumb around the knot he knew he’d find there. He resisted the temptation to tuck her hair behind her ear so he could see her face without it being half hidden in shadows. 

“Yeah,” Elain nodded. “Couldn’t get the fan to work and I need…”

“The white noise,” Azriel finished for her, another wave of satisfaction flowing through him at the first upward tilt of her lips. 

“What about you?” Elain asked, her gaze still focused straight ahead. “Trouble sleeping?”

“Something like that,” He replied, schooling his expression into one that would hopefully hide the real reason he was awake. “At least it worked in my favour this time.”

“What do you mean?” 

“It means that I’ve been trying to get a minute alone with you for two days now.”

“Oh,” she bit her lip. “Well, yesterday was so busy with all the kids and then tonight has been a lot as well…• 

“Yeah,” Azriel laughed, leaning into her just enough for his arm to press against hers. It was meant to be an innocent, playful touch yet it still managed to send a spark straight down his spine. “It was the kids that were keeping us from talking and definitely not because you’ve been actively avoiding me.” 

“I didn't think it would be so obvious,” Elain groaned, glancing up at him from the corner of her eye. “I was hoping you wouldn't notice.”

“I notice everything about you, Lain.” He adjusted his stance slightly, pivoting at the waist so he was turned towards her. “Always have.” 

There was another second of silence as she looked away from him, nervously running a hand through her hair. “You can’t say things like that.”

“It’s true, though.” He shrugged, choosing to move on with the conversation before she could ruminate on that any further.“How have you been?”

“Thought you noticed everything about me.” He could practically hear her smirk even through the sleepy rasp of her voice and he loved it. Appreciated the fleeting moment of playfulness. Of normalcy. “Shouldn’t you know the answer?”

“I want to hear it from you.”

“I’ve been good,” Elain still didn’t look at him. Her eyes were focused steadily, stubbornly ahead. “Meadowview is good. Work is good. Everything’s good.”

“Say good one more time and maybe I’ll believe you.” He hadn’t missed that she’d neglected to mention her boyfriend.

“Funny,” she rolled her eyes. “How have you been?” 

“Fine,” he shrugged. Then, before he could stop himself he asked her one of the questions that had been haunting him since last night. “Why have you never told me you didn’t like when I called you  ‘Lain?’” 

Elain paused, her brows furrowing. She clearly hadn’t expected that question from him. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Last night… Graysen said that you didn’t like it when he called you that. You said that you preferred to be called ‘El.’” 

She ducked her head, the bridge of her nose wrinkling as she looked down at her feet. A surefire sign she was embarrassed by something. “I only like it when it’s coming from you.” 

He bit back a smile, rocking back on his heels in an attempt to dull the sudden rush of emotion he felt at her admission. 

“Thank god.” He pressed a hand to his chest in a show of relief. “I’ve been worried that I’ve been unknowingly pissing you off for the past ten years.”

Azriel chuckled, teeth dragging over his lower lip as she turned to look at him. She gave him a wry smile and a shake of her head and though he wanted to live in this moment forever, he couldn’t put it off any longer, there were far more pressing matters to discuss.

“Lain,” Azriel let out a breath, his smile slipping into something more serious. He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. “If you’re upset or if I misread the situation that night, I’m sorry but just tell me so I can -”

“Azriel, we can’t.” She whispered, cutting him off before he could even get out everything he wanted and needed to say.

“What?”

“I can’t… we can’t talk about this.” Her voice was strained, her hands twisted in the cuffs of her sweater.

“We have to talk about it, Elain.” He insisted. “It’s been months of silence and we can’t keep going like this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she swallowed, shoulders once again tensing as she turned to face him. 

“You can’t be serious,” Azriel couldn’t keep the exasperation out of his voice. 

Even with such scarce lighting, he could see the blush that crept up her neck as she defensively crossed her arms in front of her chest. 

“Nothing happened. It’s fine.” Elain said, her voice low. “It was just sex. We got caught up in the moment and that’s all it was.”

“Just sex,” Azriel shook his head. “You wouldn’t have left and stopped talking to me if it was just fucking sex.” 

He’d always prided himself on maintaining a mask of cool composure around other people but it always seemed to falter around Elain. He couldn’t hide from her. Had never felt the need to. This was no exception.

“I didn’t -”

“Don’t.” He interrupted her. “Whatever you’re about to say about not cutting me off or about things being fine between us, it’s absolute bullshit and you know it.” 

“Azriel,” Her voice broke, splitting his name into two halves. “I shouldn’t have left and I know that and I’m sorry but I just can’t…”

“Do you regret it?”

“What?”

“Do you regret it?” He asked again, making a point to look directly at her. “Sleeping with me. Do you regret it?”

Azriel watched as she closed her eyes, one hand of hers coming up to clutch at her necklace as she took a deep breath. It felt like a lifetime before she finally spoke. 

“I only regret it in the sense that I can’t stop thinking about it.” He could barely hear her over the crickets and the frogs and whatever other nocturnal creatures occupied the field around his friends’ home. “I only regret it because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t make sense of her saying exactly what he’d hoped but never dreamed that she’d go as far as admitting it. Suddenly, he didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to do. It was involuntary, really… the way he reached for her. One arm extending, his hand mere inches from her hip. The tips of his fingers just grazed her sweatshirt before she stepped back, just out of his reach. 

“Az.” The pounding of his heart came to an abrupt stop in his chest as he watched her eyes fill with tears. “It happened and it was good and I promise you I don’t regret it but I can’t do this. We just can’t…” 

“Just tell me why you left then, Lain.” He pleaded. “Full, complete honesty. I just want to know why you left without saying anything. I thought - everything was fine when I fell asleep.” 

“It doesn’t matter now, Az.” She wiped away a stray tear. “What’s it going to solve? What’s done is done.”

“It does. I need to know. I need to understand.” 

“I don’t know why. I wish I did but I don’t...” she started. “I panicked and then I realised how awful I’d been for leaving like that and I thought you’d be upset.” She took another deep, wavering breath. “I thought you hated me.”

Her voice was once again so small, so timid. It shattered every part of him. 

“Elain,” Azriel reached up and tugged at his hair just so he had something to do with his hands. Too afraid that he’d reach for her again. “If I were capable of hating you, this would all be a whole lot easier.” 

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, tears falling faster now. “I’m so sorry that it’s like this between us but I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this.”

“I just want my friend back, Lain.” He said gently. “I’m not asking for anything more than to have you back in my life as my friend. I miss you so fucking much and if the only thing that’s stopping you from talking to me is what happened between us that night then we can forget it. If that’s what it takes, we can agree to pretend it never happened.”

“It’s not that easy. You know it. I know it. It’s been months and I can’t forget it.” She shook her head. “It’s just easier this way, Az. You and me… we just can’t be friends the way we were. Not right now at least.”

“You don’t mean that, Elain.” His nails dug into the palms of his hands. “I know that’s not what you want. Look me in the eye and tell me you mean it.”

He waited for her to seal their fate. To look him in the eye and tell him that she’d meant every word. That she really wanted nothing more to do with him. But she didn’t look him in the eye. Didn’t really look at him at all. She only stepped further back, her gaze fixed on some arbitrary spot above his right shoulder.

“I miss you, Azriel. More than you know.” Her voice broke as she began to turn away from him, walking towards the door. 

“Wait,” he followed behind her, his fingers closing around her wrist to stop her from reaching for the handle of the screen door. 

She didn’t pull away from him this time. Didn’t try to step back. She just twisted around to face him fully, her pulse rapid under his touch. 

“Do whatever you need to do.” The words left him in a rush. “ Go home, think about things. I can handle you being with someone else, I’ve done it for a decade… but please…. please don’t stay with someone that doesn’t make you happy just to prove a point to yourself or to me or to anyone else.”

There was another stretch of silence to accompany the crease that formed in between her eyebrows as she mulled over his words.

“Goodnight, Az.” She stepped forward, her chest against his. He released his grasp on her wrist  just in time to wrap his arms around her waist as she reached up on her toes and slung her arms loosely around his neck. Every part of her pressed against him for a split second. It was over before it began but he felt the cool, dampness of her tears against his cheek as her lips brushed his skin just once before she pulled back from the hug.

He let her go, his fingers slipping slowly from her skin. “Goodnight, Lain.”

Elain disappeared inside the house and the kitchen light flickered off a few seconds later. Azriel turned back around, sitting down on the porch step after pulling a stray cigarette and lighter out of his back pocket. He closed his eyes and counted to sixty. When he opened his eyes again, he was right back to what he’d been doing fifteen minutes ago, before she’d come outside. 

Once again, it was just him, the stars,and the dim light from the lit end of his cigarette. He didn’t know how long he stayed out there going over what just happened but he was still there, staring up at the sky and rehashing answers to questions he couldn’t decide if he regretted asking when the sun began to rise.

[arealphrooblem]

A Lost Cause

Synopsis: The trusted keeper of all the Heroes' secrets, Civilian's existence is kept a tightly guarded secret itself. So how did the villain find her? And how will she withstand the attempts of his scientist to break her open and discover those secrets himself?

CW: nonconsensual drugging, medical whump, medical experimentation, mentions of wounds from torture

 They ambushed her at one AM on a Wednesday night. She had just chugged a glass of water and was walking back towards her bedroom when five men appeared like plumes of smoke in the dim light of the living room lamp. 

Immediately she smashed the glass on the head of the nearest one. He stumbled back and tripped over the corner of the coffee table, blood gushing down the side of his face. A second man got a donkey kick to the knees and an elbow to the face. But then she tripped on the baggy hem of her sleep pants and that gave the other three men all the opportunity they needed to hold her arms down and chloroform her. 

When she woke up, mind foggy with cotton mouth, the familiar walls of her home had been replaced with metal. She sat tied to a chair and sitting across the metal table from her was a man she’d never seen before.

It wasn’t the why that perplexed her. Even though she never participated in the famous battles that raged across the cities of the world, or had her face blazoned on billboards, or plastered all over the news like the rest of her superhero brethren, she was the most valuable member of the team for one simple reason:

She knew everyone’s secrets. 

Their real names and social security numbers. Their home addresses and family members. Their bank app passwords. The limitations of their powers and their weaknesses. 

She knew these secrets because that was part of her job. She coordinated their lives. When someone got hurt, she arranged medical treatment. When the teammates that couldn’t fly had to go halfway around the world, she kept the private jet refueled and paid the maintenance crew. When someone’s family was in danger, she put them into hiding. She bought booked air bnb rooms under false names, she ran the grocery lists for their base, she made sure Mother’s day cards and birthday presents were sent on time.

Her teammates trusted her with this because she was a vault herself. Her power nullified everyone else’s in a wide radius around her. She had training in three forms of martial arts, could hack into almost any database around her and thus prevent from being hacked, and could shoot with fairly decent accuracy multiple types of guns. 

And when all of that didn’t work, she had a memory palace like an ancient Greek maze that no telepath could find their way through if they ever caught her at a distance.

But the best protection she had was her anonymity. Her association with her teammates was their most highly guarded secret. So it wasn’t the why so much as the how. 

How did Villain find her? How did he even know she existed?

Of course, no one was interested in answering her questions. 

The man sitting across the table from her gave her a bemused half smile when she demanded this information. It gave him a boyish, non-threatening air despite the dark tinted sunglasses he wore. 

“I’m afraid you have things rather backwards,” he said, voice soft and pleasant. Like they were on a coffee date. “I’m the one who gets the answers and you are the one who gets the questions.”

“You’re not getting shit from me,” she spat. 

Her hands wiggled against the bonds tying her to the chair. The zip ties cut into her skin, tight enough that she worried about her circulation. If the man noticed her testing them out, he did not reveal it. Instead that half smile grew slowly into a smirk. 

“I’m sure you believe that. You seem to have a very strong will. But willpower doesn’t really matter when I’m involved.”

He took his glasses off, folded them with care, and placed them with care inside his coat pocket. Brown eyes, sweet and warm like hot chocolate, looked back at her. He leaned forward, hands clasped before him, and focused those eyes on her. 

“You will answer every question I ask, truthfully, with every relevant detail you can think of.”

His voice was low and soothing, with an easy confidence of someone used to getting their way. It gave her great pleasure to respond to him, leaning forward as much as her bonds would allow.

“You will go to hell,” she murmured, matching his tone, “and on the way there you can kiss my ass.”

The man tilted his head, eyebrows raised. Did he really think she was going to give him everything, just like that?

“Tell me your name,” he commanded in that same soft tone.

“Go fuck yourself.”

Surprise spread across his face. “Do you really feel no compulsion to do as I say?”

“Did you really think it would be that easy?” she retorted.

He just stared at her, eyes wide in delightful curiosity.

“Fascinating,” he murmured, pulling his glasses back out of his coat pocket. “Well, I suppose you and I are at an impasse. I could advise you give me your answers willingly, rather than face torture. But I assume you would not take that advice.”

“Your assumption would be correct.”

“A shame. You have such spirit. It’s a pity they will break it.”

Fear curled in her gut but she refused to let it show. “We’ll see about that.”

He slipped his glasses back on, hiding those sweet brown eyes. “When you feel like death would be a mercy, please remember that I tried to give you a choice.”

That line haunted her as she experienced the worst days of her life. No food, no water, no rest. Endless pain. Even as she burrowed herself further and further into her own mind, the pain followed her through every passage of the maze. She intentionally twisted herself down paths with dead ends, paths that recurved on themselves, keeping herself away from the information they wanted so badly. 

If she could just hold out long enough, her team would rescue her. 

She just had to last. Just a little bit longer. 

The next time she found herself strapped to the chair in front of the table, the zip ties were the only thing holding her up, slippery from the blood. The light from the lamp felt like a laser in her eyes. A different man sat across the table from her, his features hazy from her blurred vision. The man was older, that much she could tell, and dressed in a sharp black suit. 

Villain. She’d seen his face in so many files, in so much research for her team on him. She would know him in her sleep.               

“You are remarkably stubborn,” he said, crossing his legs. “I see why they entrusted their secrets to you. A shame I didn’t find you first. That kind of loyalty is hard to find and even harder to buy.”

She had no quip for him, no scathing remarks. All her focus went to not puking. 

“I am not going to waste any more of my resources trying to break you. That may sound like good news at first, but it simply means you are now completely valueless to me. That’s a very dangerous position to be in. Normally I would kill you and dispose of every trace of your existence, but my top scientist has asked me to spare you.”

He stood up, brushing imaginary dirt from his suit coat. “Again, that may sound like good news, but you will wish that I had killed you before long, that much I can assure you.”

Before she could make sense of this development, something sharp pricked the side of her neck and then she knew nothing at all. 

Life passed in hazy flashes. She was in a bed. She heard birds and felt sunlight. She saw the man in the sunglasses. It was impossible to tell what was a dream and what was real. When she finally fully woke up, the world appeared in stages. 

First the beeping. Then the cozy heaviness of a blanket. A small pain in her hand when she jostled it. When her eyes flittered open, she saw walls of deep green and cream, an IV drip that ran to the back of her left hand, a row of succulents on the window sill. A desk and a man sitting at it, scribbling in a notebook. A familiar, bespectacled man. 

“Where am I?” she asked.

Or tried to ask. All that game out of her dry, dusty throat was a croak. 

The man’s scribbling stopped abruptly and he looked over his shoulder. 

“Are you finally awake?” he asked, standing up. 

Another groan filtered from her cracked lips. He walked over to a side table that held a pitcher of water and poured her a glass, dropping in a plastic straw. His fingers pressed something on the side of the bed and the front half lifted slowly up until she was sitting. 

“Drink slowly,” he said.

He held the glass to her lips and she sipped the water through the straw. It took everything in her not to chug it, not to rip it out of his grasp and drown in it when he pulled it away and set the glass on the table.                        

“Where am I?” she asked again, voice hoarse.

“Ah, here we go again thinking you can ask the questions,” he said with that crooked smile. 

She glared at him, which only made his smile grow wider. 

“I think though, this time I will be more generous with my answers. You are in my personal facilities. This is the medical recovery room. There is also my lab, my rooms, a kitchen. Everything we need, in short, for a long stay.”

Nausea roiled in her stomach, and she wasn’t sure if it came from the medicine he put her on or the implication of his words. 

“Are you . . .the scientist?” she whispered. 

It hurt to talk. 

“I am a scientist, certainly.”

Another glare. Another smile. 

“Why?”

Why was she here? Why did he want her? Why wasn’t she dead? All words that caught in her throat. 

“Why am I a scientist? That story dates to my childhood, and I doubt you have much interest in that. Let’s say that I have a fascination with the rules of the world and how you can manipulate them.”

This man was impossible. If she had any strength left, she would have strangled him with the cord of her IV drip. 

The steady beep of her heart rate monitor spiked with her anger. He glanced over at it with mild surprise.

“Don’t you feel at least a little hypocritical,” he asked, “expecting the truth from me when you refuse to give it yourself?”

Hypocritical? Hypocritical? 

“Are you serious right now?” she hissed.

“As a heart attack. Like the one you might give yourself if you don’t keep your anger in check,” he added. “Take deep, slow breaths. Your body is still fragile. We wouldn’t want to undo all the progress of your recovery, would we?”

She took deep slow breaths, hating him the entire time, if only to keep him from knowing how much he got under her skin. He watched with little nods of approval. 

“That’s it. Good. Now that you’re awake, I will take some of your vitals and check your bandages.”

Bandages? She resisted the sudden, panic laced urge to rip the blanket off and check her over her body. What injuries she sustained, he would reveal soon enough. 

She held herself very still while he listened to her chest with a stethoscope. She realized then someone, most likely him, had dressed her in a medical gown and done away with the tattered remnants of her pajamas. He took her blood pressure, pinched the skin of her forearm for dehydration, took her temperature, before sliding the covers back and revealing bandages on her thighs, her knees, wrapped around her feet. 

“Cuts and burns,” he explained at her morbidly curious expression. 

“I don’t feel them,” she said in surprise. 

“You have very good drugs in that IV drip.” 

He treated her injuries with an antibiotic salve, spreading it oh so gently with gloved fingers. Then he returned the blankets over her lap and tugged up her medical gown. She tried to fight it, fingers gripping the hem as tight as she could manage, but he easily overpowered her. 

“Relax, this is nothing inappropriate. You have bruised ribs.”

He checked her with the cold methodical touch of a professional before gently tugging her dress back down. 

“You’re healing very well,” he said proudly. As if she had anything to do with it. “I expect partial recovery within two weeks and a full recovery within the month.”

He straightened up and slid his stethoscope off. “You should get more rest. Sleep is the most crucial component of healing.”

Her hand snaked out and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. Her grip may have been weak and pathetic, but she held on with all her strength regardless. The man considered her, his expression impressible to tell with his sunglasses on. 

“Why?” she rasps throat aching. “Tell me why . . .please.”

It cost her to beg like that. And maybe he sensed that, because he bent down again and brushed an errant curl back from her face. 

“Villain may consider you a lost cause, but I do not give up so easily. You are a fascinating little puzzle box and I am dying to create the tools that will break you open.”

He chucked her under the chin, and made his way out.

[shitty-fallout-art]

my laziness knows no bounds

-Operating both within and outside of Diamond City, Don Valentine is founder and boss of the Valentine crime family that terrorizes the Commonwealth.

-Initially a private detective long before the bombs ever dropped, Valentine carried his practicality and strong sense of justice all the way from his hometown of Chicago to the streets of Boston, with the purpose of assisting the BPD with investigating and disbanding a local crime syndicate that had grown too powerful and elusive for them to handle.

-The result was, ultimately, beyond anything he could have prepared for, having finally met a criminal with the brains and the pull to consistently slip past between his fingers at every critical moment. Victories were small and irregular, and the consequences he faced for every inch he pulled as met with dire consequences that not even the BPD could protect him from. Of course, this was a factor that he had long since accepted, though he would later think himself foolish for ever believing that those closest too him would be spared from his involvement.

-It was not long after the murder of his fiance that Valentine was pulled from the case, as the agency could no longer justify his presence due to personal involvement with the case. He was ordered to return home and relinquish any files or evidence pertaining to Eddie Winter.

-Rather than obey directive, Valentine illegally pursued the case on his own, often clashing with the BPD in their own continued efforts to investigate. Accusations of hostility towards officers, illegal possession of evidence, breaking-and-entering, and kidnapping lead to his inevitable arrest and incarceration. Though he told officials that he would continue the case regardless of legal status, the news that the case had been dropped completely by the BPD broke some of his spirit in the end.

-On court orders, Valentine was taken away for psychological evaluation following his arrest, though the procedures were hardly in his benefit. As part of an under-the-covers collaboration between BADTFL and the Commonwealth Institute of Technology, Valentine was subjected to strange physiological treatments and tests that left him severely weakened and partially brain-dead. Afterwords, he would spend the rest of his short life cared for under prison medical staff.

-His story should have ended there, with his life taken by the bombs and everything of the old world buried away beneath a sea of nuclear hell-fire, and yet, almost a hundred years later, Valentine woke up again.

-One day, against all odds, Valentine found himself waking up in a garbage pile, in a place that was not Boston and a with a body that was not his own. Metal and plastic had replaced skin and flesh, the streets were decrepit and ruined, and everyone seemed so strange and hostile towards him.

-He...had adapted to life as best he could. He played fair and worked hard, he never pushed what generosity people would show him, and he kept mostly to himself. He used his talents and abilities when he could, for little gratitude or reward, and for a while, it seemed like people were at least becoming used to seeing this strange metallic man with memories of past in their lives.

-Until he had happened upon that dreaded caravan.

-He had no way of knowing at the time that they were slavers, he had only wanted to do what was right and help them find their "friend" that had run off. He had lead them straight to her, being rewarded with a thick sack of a caps and a promise for future work in the slaving industry should he want it.

-Without much further to go on, Nick did the only responsible thing he could think of to do, and make his way to Diamond City to tell the mayor, and the girl's father, what had happened. He had thought that he could find the opportunity to right the mistake he had made, though he was only dismantled and thrown out into the garbage like the scum he was.

-Nick was at least handy enough to put some of himself back together, and what he needed help with he got from making threats and empty promises to whoever he came across. Years living with head down and his ears to the ground made him a curious and unknown threat, dangerously intelligent and with the means to utilize his knowledge in a way that produced results.

-For months he tracked that caravan, pulling springs within settlements, using force and persuasion to gather information and assistance when needed, doing little favors for big rewards in order to further his goals.

-When he finally found that caravan, he brought the mayors daughter home with a box full of the slavers severed heads, and found himself suddenly feared and respected within the city.

-Though he had no intentions of becoming a detective, he couldn't refuse the luxuries that his work was suddenly providing. People were fearfully and generous, offering him many things in return for his services, and often his services required a heavy hand and an ugly attitude to reach the results they often desired. It was not a life he intended to lead, but one that he had suddenly found himself living, and he became content with juggling the complex morale of his character and his actions so long as it kept the Commonwealth functional and relatively peaceful.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-His character is a strange one, hardly something outright evil or carrying malicious intent, but far from good-nature in how he conducts his business. Results matter, and the means in which you get them can be forgiven so long as it helps somebody down the line. For people, there is often never a price too step for the sake of a loved one, and Valentine understands that all too well. A good person should be willing to get their hands dirty if need be, it just so happens that his hands are dirtier than he'd like to think.

-He is often referred too as the White Dove of the Commonwealth, a figure of wealth, refinery, and peace, able to go anywhere and to hear anything anyone says. What he knows and what he is capable of finding out is a source of great anxiety to his rivals and his allies.

-His gang is curious case as well, operating in favor of local communities with deep pockets and deeper consequences, but toeing that fine line of beneficial to most that ask of their services. They take and savor what they can, they procure funds though under-the-table jobs and extortion of businesses, but many are grateful for their protection.

-He is more uptight and refined compared to his original counterpart, just as snarky and playful, though keeping a short leash on his image and the respect it is supposed to carry with it. Much like General Garvey, his visage carries a purpose, and without it, he could not accomplish his goals as effectively.

-He has a family office within Diamond City, having close ties to the mayors office and the local newspaper, but his reach carries far outside of the city walls.

-Once he learned that Eddie Winter was still alive, his obsession and past feelings resurfaced brutally, causing him to be compulsive, short-fused, and Machiavellian in his hostility towards others. Though he want's to do more than simply kill Winter for what he did to his fiance. The past is dead and buried but those forced to live in the present have to carry on, and the resentment for what Nick had been forced to become had given him some ideas.fa

[fledermoved-too]

PiB AU Scourge and Fuego 🧊🔥

Some thoughts I had for a backstory concerning my request muse Scourge and @firestcr !! This is just an idea ofc, so if this doesn't work for you that's totally fine <33

it's okay to rb this btw!

info under the cut:

This is inspired by the Hawkstorm MAP, which is one of my favorites!

In this AU, Scourge and Fuego are siblings from the same litter, born in a small town just an hour or so out from Mexico City within a run-down, dilapidated hut. Their mother, a stray, does her best to care for the two with limited resources, and they have a fairly normal childhood at first, getting along well. Scourge (then Tiny) is raised as a girl, as that is his assigned gender at birth. He is often adorned with a flower, the anemone, which symbolizes the idea of being forsaken, which is pure coincidence to their reality, but foreshadows his fate.

One night, during a particularly devastating storm, lightning strikes a tree close by to their hut, and it catches fire. The fire spreads with extreme speed as their mother wakes to the roar of the flames and tries to get her children to safety, but can only carry one through the rapidly deconstructing building. Tiny does his best to keep up, but is barred from following as debris collapses, blocking the path to his only exit. Nutmeg flees with her remaining kit, devastated as she assumes Tiny has been crushed.

Fire has destroyed their home and Rusty's only sister, yet he is born from the ashes, and as Nutmeg eventually succumbs to her own burns and smoke inhalation in town, Rusty is taken in by townsfolk and named Fuego after his pelt and past. As he is raised, more and more of the incident falls from his immediate memory, but he never forgets the death of his littermate and mother, promising to carry them within his heart always as he becomes the hero that the town deserves, fighting evil as he travels place to place. As he outgrows the collar handed down to him by townsfolk, he no longer wears it, but keeps the item out of sentimental value. He gains a partisan to utilize as his favored weapon.

It's unknown how Tiny was able to escape that night and survive, but he did make an escape, bearing horrific burns that would result in hair loss, troubled breathing, as well as skin and nerve damage. Fortunately, some of his fur would grow back, but not the full amount, giving him a more mangy appearance and earning him the name El Chupacabra by locals. This treatment comes to the exact opposite of Fuego's, as Scourge decides to give himself a third name for shortness' sake and to keep his anger within his title. This is when he begins to realize he is a tomcat. To him, Tiny is dead as well, though more metaphorically.

He becomes an outlaw, bearing a hatchet ready to kill and a collar of bone and tooth to settle his new look. Though he is a bitter opponent, a few select strays admire the tenacity and fierceness of his work, occasionally grouping with him for resources in hopes of food and shelter, but they are not fully loyal. At a true sniff of danger, they flee, leaving Scourge alone in his mission to rustle livestock and commit vicious theft and killings.

Scourge remembers the night vividly in trauma, and knows who Fuego is. He harbors resentment for his brother, but will not openly acknowledge that he knows Fuego. Instead, he acts as the antagonist, and the opposing force to all that Fuego has built as a reputation. If Fuego is the hero, then El Chupacabra must be the villain.

[thehollowwriter]

The Official Bio of Morrigan Clearcove

Basic Info:

Name: Morrigan Clearcove

Homeland: The Coral Sea

Species: Cookie cutter shark mer

Birthday: 12th October

Age: 50 something(technically, he would be in his 60s...)

Height/length: 158cm

Dominant hand: Right

Unique magic: [REDACTED]

Family:

Husband: Silas Clearcove

Unnamed grandfather (in-law)

Unnamed mother

Unnamed father

Unnamed siblings

Unnamed cousins

Son: Finn Cl- what are you talking about? He and Silas haven't given names yet! There's six on the way, and he's so excited to meet them! He's got a list of names miles long...

Preferences:

Hobbies: Singing, hunting with Silas, learning new spells

Likes: Music, Silas, food, fighting, his students

Dislikes: People that annoy him, his parents low-key (don't tell them he said that), strict rules, "idiots"

Favourite food: Tuna seaweed wraps

Least favourite food: Mussels

Appearance:

Morrigan is notably attractive to most who come across him. He has long, curly, hip length dark green hair, dark green skin, and turquoise eyes. He has long black claws, and his teeth are not as scary as Silas', they just look like the tweels': sharp, except they're smaller, and he has more of them. He has an abundance of freckles and a youthful, clean-shaven face. The only reason he has no scars is because his injuries from fights were always well treated.

In his human form, his hair, eyes, and teeth are the same, but his skin is very tanned. He hasn't been in human form since his NRC days, though

Personality:

Morrigan is short-tempered and abrasive, an act first think later type guy. He's fully capable of being pleasant, which he is to most people, but that falls away real fast when he gets irritated. He can be quite aggressive and wild but has good control over himself as an adult and lets those pent up feelings out through hunting and fighting with Silas.

He can be a bastard when he wants to be and likes to mess around with people, sending them a smug grin when they glare at him.

He has a constant desire to prove himself and be the best that is very difficult for him to break out of.

That aside, he is genuinely quite kind when he wants to be, as well as passionate and protective. He's a jokester, and thinks puns are the funniest thing in the world (Sea Witch save his NRC roommate), along with morbid humour.

Some Fun Facts/Extra Info

•Morrigan comes from a middle class family (that is under constant threat of getting the same treatment Silas' family did, but that's a story for another time) in the city of Atlanta

•Morrigan went to NRC and was in Savanaclaw (rumours say he was dorm leader but was stripped of his position after trying to bite someone's throat out in a very public fight)

•Morrigan is very passionate about teaching and cares deeply for his students

•He taught Cosme before he (Cosme) went to NRC

•He's an adrenaline junkie

•He's an incredibly powerful mage with a knack for mastering spells quickly (he just looks for spells to master-)

•He is an unfortunate victim of both gifted kid and golden child syndrome

Tagging: @distant-velleity @krenenbaker @boopshoops @the-banana-0verlord @cynthinesia

@theleechyskrunkly @elenauaurs @whspermy-name @officialdaydreamer00 @ramshacklerumble

@quartztwst @br3adtoasty @skrimpyskimpy @the-trinket-witch @ghostiidasponk

@natsukishinomiyaswife the demons won, he's got a bio now

[ethers-moth]

Autistic people with the same special interests (the two of you) are about to have a field day.

So. Repo! The genetic opera. The magnus archives. The Archival Repo!. The Repo! Archives.

Anyway

Shiloh is developing corruption

- bug collector

- not a full blown avatar but is kind of in the Jonathan Sims position to be influenced by a LOT of them

- feeds on Nathan’s anxiety (she thinks it’s her illness, but it’s more likely just dread that he’s a failure of a parent. He is.) (I love him why is he like that)

- 17 has her say “I always longed for true affection, but you compared me to a corpse”, so when she leaves at the end of the movie that signifies her evolution into an avatar (or rejection of it?) bc she is left with nothing but her bugs. We don’t really know

Nathan is either Slaughter or Hunt

- I definitely am more inclined for hunt for Nathan

- the hunting at the beginning and later when he and Shiloh are on the phone he definitely could do it a lot faster and less dramatically

- he definitely enjoys it is my point

- “thankless job” is also a prime example of his feelings on this job and or its moral implications

- obviously he’s unstable too and that influences jt but he kind of reminds me of Daisy Tonner where he’s over the ethical issue mostly

Luigi is definitely slaughter

- there’s not a really a need for question man is violent and angry I feel like there’s no question he shanks and yells and gets half naked for fun.

- his treatment of the gentern bringing coffee is a great example, he had no reason to freak out other than. Being like that. And also bc he can

- that’s about it actually he feeds on subordinates fear of his unforgiving temper it’s pretty CUT and dry

Pavi is. Hmmm. Flesh??

- I’m stuck on this one, however I think flesh fits best

- his face stealing reminds me of specific serial killer behaviors (usually due to parental issues) that involve using others body parts, usually skin (Ed Gein with his skin suit of his mother I think??) though I think his environment is part of why the face thing is a little less wrong in canon. Idk he’s a fucking FREAK okay

- also we never see his actual face so I feel an argument that it’s tied with dysmorphia isn’t unreasonable

- Pavi feeds off of adoration (even if it’s fake) from the Genterns as well as the fear of having your face skinned

- seriously what is wrong with him

- with the Genterns his boisting of “ask a gentern who they prefer” and overtly unacceptable sexual behavior (“my brother and sister should fuck”) feel like someone who wants validation and attention even if it’s not positive attention

Amber is Flesh too

- I think for a different reason from Pavi, she doesn’t have “inferiority” Dysmorphia that I think he has

- instead, I think Ambers behaviors are “superiority” dysmorphia (both terms I made up)

- in Ambers case she’s changing her appearance to cope with a shifting sense of self and strive for perfection caused by her notoriety and never being told no

- Amber feeds off of being desired and seen and is one of the most famous people in the known canon universe, but her blatant jealousy of Mag really depicts her motivation for perfection

- she also feeds herself to graverobber for drugs (deleted song ‘try my new parts’) I don’t care how good their surgical techniques are nobody is healing their hole that fast without hurting themselves somehow

- basically if Pavi is MAG 90 Amber is MAGP 2

Graverobber is End or Buried

- the end is for obvious reasons with corpse robbing and his lack of fear or caution around death @brainvomitintheparkinglot ‘s idea

- for buried, he’s literally a crack dealer

- he basically feeds the entire cities drug supply (trapping them in addiction that is hard to escape)

- the web usually deals with addiction but I don’t think he has manipulative or controlling motivation, he just works the system against other people

(Rottis corporation supplying everyone is the web, graverobber is a chunk of dust caught in it)

- as shown with Amber, he wont supply without money either, hypothetically pushing his clients into further debt (esp if they have geneco loans) AND addiction

- graverobber feeds off of the metaphorical suffocating nature of debt and addiction as mentioned, and well as literal suffocation

- following the drug thread, I will be treating zydrate like Heroin, in the idea it can be a powder or liquid (even though we only see it as a liquid in canon)

- like most painkilling drugs it can be assumed zydrate can induce vomit and therefore asphyxiation OR in the case of a powder that is inhaled, generally that isn’t optimal for breathing

- also graverobber is probably covered in corpse dust and like. Anthrax

Rotti is web (again, thank you @brainvomitintheparkinglot)

- his company owns the entire city (corporatocrocy)

- he literally controls everyone, his money controls his fucked up kids, and the entire system is his

- the rift with Shiloh and Nathan was organized by Rotti, and I feel like Ambers problem with Mag is somehow his fault too

- as far as I know, Mags blindness is never canonically explained, Rotti could easily be responsible like he was with Marni

- Rotti feeds off the obvious, control over everyone. He also is disappointed his kids found ways around his authority, and yet they’re STILL in his web (addicts and also fucked in the head bc of the circumstances he raised them in)

Mag is. The eye

- yeah. This one is the most direct

- I have a headcanon that she can see through cameras (how she found Shiloh) and how she seems to know all about what is happening in Shilohs life

- mag is both a victim and an avatar of the eye, she sees everything going on around her with the people she loves, but all eyes are always on her, trapping her where she is.

- literally had to do a Melanie king except she didn’t escape, the web and the eye often work in opposition in TMA while also being quite similar, she and Rotti much the same.

- “take these eyes I’d rather be blind” is an inadvertent argument with Rottis control of the web, he kills her for it

Lastly, Marni is either End or Desolation

- she’s not actually present in the film

- End is bc she died and yet is still so so important to the plot

-desolation is bc her actions are kind of why everyone in the story has issues

I could make a whole separate post on Rottis fucked up crack zydrate addicted kids

[draguta]

.a court of fate and fortune | thirty-six.

pairing: lucien vanserra x fem!reader

summary: | book two | lovers separated, powers that won't be controlled, a doomed wedding. with the threat of war looming over prythian, lucien, Y/N, tamlin, and rhysand's inner circle must scramble to find allies and prepare themselves for what is to come. but Y/N only has one aim; to find her way back to lucien, and protect him at all costs.

chapter warnings: canon level violence

chapter word count: 3480

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City Under Siege

The music and rowdy laughter seemed to seep through the very stone bricks of that castle. Lucien’s heart was in his throat as he walked down the winding hallways toward the source, the labyrinth-like layout of the King of Hybern’s home making it almost impossible for him to find his way around. He’d had a swirling nausea in his stomach in the days since they had arrived in Hybern, and had done his best to keep to himself, locked away in the chambers he had been given - even the rooms here were cold and void of any comfort. There were no personal touches, nothing to suggest that this was, in fact, a home and not just a castle, only the blank walls and stone floors and cruel residents. But he couldn’t, not that night, not when the King of Hybern himself had requested his presence alongside the High Lord of Spring.

A party, the messenger had informed him, in honour of their new alliance.

But Hybern was so much like another court he had once been forced to endure living in. A court under a mountain, ruled by a ruthless self-titled High Queen, one who had stolen his eye from him. Who had nearly taken his life. Who had broken the female he loved over and over again.

Of course, Amarantha had been from here, he had to remind himself. She had grown up in Hybern, had been trained by the King himself, had been his greatest General. It made sense that their courts would be so terrifyingly similar, even if the comparison made him sick to his stomach.

The King’s throne room was packed full of people, music wafted from a small minstrel band in the corner, bodies pressed together, dancing without a care in the world. Barbaric laughter echoed from the walls, barked by males who held no respect for the social expectations of a King or High Lord’s court. As he pushed his way through the crowd, he saw those same brutes of men - large with pale skin and dark, hollow eyes - grabbing at the maids that served them, touching them in places that made him grimace. So similar to the treatment of Y/N Under the Mountain. So similar that he had to force himself forward, stop himself from turning around and making those males pay for their depravities.

Tamlin was already hovering at the side of the King’s throne, and the King himself lounged back in that throne of bones, watching the revelry with an almost neutral boredom written across his face. His eyes lit up for just a moment as Lucien approached, but he ignored the King, eyes settling on Tamlin who offered him a low nod as he took a place on the dais beside the High Lord. His eyes fell on Ianthe, flirting and batting her eyelashes at what seemed to be a Commander in Hybern’s army, close to the edge of the dais; he didn’t miss the way her eyes flickered up to the King every so often, as if waiting for him to notice her and extend to her the same invitation to stand by him as he had to Lucien and Tamlin.

But it was a loud clap that sounded through the throne room, silencing the talking and laughter and music in a second as all eyes fell to Hybern. He didn’t even bother to rise from his throne - didn’t even sit up and straighten his spine as he addressed the Fae of his court.

“Today is a day to remember!” The King called in an unmodulated tone. “Today we embark on an alliance with the Spring Court, who will help steer us to the victory that is rightfully ours!”

A sneering cheer came from the crowd, and Lucien tensed at Tamlin’s side as the King rounded on them, his grin snake-like and foul.

“A gift for you,” he crooned, extending a hand to the door to his right. It opened, and a moment later two of Hybern’s guards appeared, a female gripped between them. She thrashed and fought, but the guards were stronger than she was tenfold, pushing her to her knees before the King, who smirked in what Lucien could only assume was glee.

Lucien was thrown back to that day Y/N was taken Under the Mountain, thrust in front of Amarantha for the first time, when she had just been mortal. The day that he had lost his eye, and lost Y/N in one fell swoop.

“Perhaps you don’t know Merida,” the King snarled. “She only works in the kitchens after all.” Lucien tried not to snarl at the insinuation, his mind immediately flashing to Alis, insulted by the insinuation that she was any less because of her occupation. “Well, Merida here has been selling information to the enemy, haven’t you?”

“W-What?” The female Fae before him stuttered, glancing from the King, to Tamlin, to Lucien, and back again. She was pretty, Lucien thought, young with porcelain-like skin. “I-I never, Your Highness!”

“Don’t even try lying,” the King hissed, taking a step down the dais, closer to her. She looked so frail before him, so fragile and feeble. “My guards have told me that they caught you trying to flee, with a notebook filled with detailed outlines of our plans in your bag. How did you get that information? Did you eavesdrop?”

“N-No!” The female blanched. “I didn’t, I swear! I was going to the market to collect an order of venison for the kitchens. P-Please, Your Highness! I never did anything wrong!”

“Enough!” The King’s outburst rippled in waves of malice throughout the room. Every person there was silent, not a single word uttered, barely a breath exhaled. “You are a traitor to your people, to your Kingdom, and you will pay the price for it.”

One flick of his wrist had the female screeching - screaming in a way that made Lucien’s blood run cold. He wanted to run to her, to help her, to stop the King’s barbaric torture…but he couldn’t. Not now they’d made their alliance, not when the safety - the very life - of Y/N hung in the balance.

“P-Please!” The female screeched, her voice cracking and breaking from the pressure of whatever unholy pain was embedding itself into her body. She hunched over, her bound hands still tied behind her back, making it impossible for her to hold herself up as she crashed to the floor, writhing and thrashing on the floor in a futile attempt to fight off the pain. But it was internal, Lucien knew, and there was no fighting it, no getting rid of it. Not unless the King made the decision to stop. “Please!”

Her face turned a startling shade of red as the pressure within her grew too much. It was then that Lucien did the only thing he could think of, the only thing that he could do that wouldn’t jeopardise their alliance, or put his life at risk. He prayed.

“Cauldron save her,” he uttered under his breath, quiet enough that no one would hear him besides Tamlin. The High Lord shot him a glare from the side of his eye, but after a moment, Lucien was sure he heard the whispers of his friend mingle with his own. “Mother hold her, guide her to you. Let her pass through the gates; let her smell that immortal land of milk and honey. Let her fear no evil. Let her feel no pain. Let her enter eternity.”

And then the female drew her last breath, the veins in her forehead and neck bulging, her eyes an alarming purple, and her body fell limp to the floor.

The crowd, much to Lucien’s disgust, cheered. His lips curled up in anger, but he kept it inside. He didn’t want to end up like that female - Merida. Her name had been Merida.

The King swung back to them in a flamboyant flip, a poisonous smile on his conniving face. “And one more gift for our new allies.” He spoke with a low voice, one that didn’t carry over the raucous cheers of the crowd. And when the King uttered his next words, his eyes turning to Lucien with a harsh smile, he realised it was because these words were meant only for the two of them. “My forces are already on the way to the Night Court. That city of theirs will be dust before sunset.”

Two days passed since the meeting with the Mortal Queens - since receiving the second half of the Book of Breathings. Rhysand had disappeared to Hewn City in accompaniment of his cousin to return the Veritas Orb and ensure Keir was preparing his forces for the upcoming war almost immediately after, and had left you with little explanation of what was happening. Feyre had simply muttered something about how you, “should’ve been more present”, before Azriel had returned you to the House of Wind.

That night had been spent sitting before the fire, tea filling your cup rather than wine, as Azriel debriefed you on everything you had missed. On the trip that Rhysand and Feyre had made to the Summer Court, and Feyre’s training, how they had honed the powers that she possessed from all seven courts. He explained about Keir and Hewn City, as well as the Darkbringers, which Rhysand hoped to utilise in the war. The Illyrians in the mountains who would form an aerial force against your enemies. How Hybern reportedly had his hands on the fated Cauldron - the one that so many had thought simply legend - and planned to use it against you.

His face had been taut with concentration as he had explained - as he had gone through every detail that he thought might be salient for you to know. And the Book of Breathings, the key to destroying the Cauldron, was in Amren’s hands, the code that would decipher the spell to hinder the Cauldron useless entirely still not cracked. Yet still, you and Azriel hypothesised, theorised, about what was to come. He talked you through battle strategies that he was planning to discuss with Cassian, spoke so fervently about how exactly they intended to win the upcoming battles. Discussed with you intel that he hoped to gather to help in the plan.

“And where exactly will I be placed during these battles?” You asked one afternoon. The pair of you were sitting in the slithering sunrays that trickled along the cobblestones like liquid gold, reminiscent of the Sidra that flowed only a few streets away. When Azriel had suggested that morning that you head into the city and experience a taster of one of the tea rooms in the Palace of Salt and Bone, you’d been hard-pressed to think of any reason not to. The walk along the Sidra had been a glorious moment of peace amongst the chaos that you had grown so accustomed to, and he’d even allowed you a moment to ponder a dress in the window of a seamstress’ - one of Autumn Court gold.

He paused as he poured himself yet another cup of lemon tea - one of his favourites, he had informed you just before ordering it. His head cocked to the side in confusion, as if he thought the answer should have been plain.

“You’ll be in the camp with Feyre,” he said slowly, hazel eyes scanning your face, gauging your reaction. You blinked once, and then pursed your lips, your brows dropping to a low frown.

“I won’t be on the battlefield?” You asked. Azriel swallowed and shook his head. “I had thought…I thought there would be a place for me within Rhysand’s ranks, if I had wanted it.”

He bit the inside of his cheek. “Well, that’s something you would have to bring up with Rhys,” he countered, resuming the pouring of his tea, although his eyes never left you. “And I’m sure he’ll make the choice your own, but I doubt he’ll be pleased about it, and if Cassian finds out he’s more likely to make sure you stay off the battlefield, rather than on it.”

Your jaw dropped slightly in protest. “So even if Rhys agrees to let me fight, Cassian will still prevent it?” You asked, tone laced with incredulity. “I thought Rhys was the one who made the orders round here.”

“He is,” Azriel said, slightly dejected. “But Cassian is the General of Rhysand’s armies. When it comes to you, Rhysand would never order Cassian to do something he’s uncomfortable with, and having you on the battlefield - someone that we all care about - would definitely make Cassian uncomfortable.”

“Why?” You countered, your confusion palpable. Azriel shrugged, hazel eyes boring into yours as he placed down the teapot and leaned ever-so-slightly closer to you.

“Because he’d be worried about you,” he explained matter-of-factly. “We’d all be worried about you, and we can’t fight to the best of our abilities if we’re too focused keeping an eye on you and making sure you’re not getting yourself killed out there. It’s the same with Feyre, although I don’t think Feyre has any intention of fighting in battle anytime soon.”

You let out a deflated sigh. “Then what the hell have I been doing all this training for if not to fight?”

He fiddled with the signet ring on his left pinky finger, the one that housed the insignia of the Night Court, twirling it round and round just below his knuckle. “To protect yourself,” he stated, face suddenly stern. “We can’t always be there to protect you.”

You bit your lip, your mind suddenly replaying everything the Suriel had told you. ‘In order for the High King’s destiny to come to fruition, you must sacrifice your life on the battlefield in place of his. And his destiny must happen, for the sake of all Prythian.’

You had to find a way onto that battlefield, regardless of if the Illyrian males agreed with it or not. It was your destiny, the reason, you presumed, that you had found your way to Prythian in the first place. There was nothing in this life that would stop you from making that sacrifice - that decision had been made already, whether you felt that you were ready for it or not.

You opened your mouth, ready to find some way of convincing Azriel that you had to fight, that you had to stand on that battlefield, staring down the enemy, no matter what. But it was then that a shiver ran up your spine, silencing your arguments before they had even left your tongue when the wind turned harsh, and the air colder. An alteration in the city around you, a tremor shifting down the river, leaving ripples in its wake.

Your eyes snapped to Azriel, but he was already on his feet, black scaled armour overlapping across his arms and chest, blue Siphons gleaming. “Get back to the House,” was his only command before he was shooting into the air, hovering above the rooftops, scanning the perimeter, seeking out a threat that had not yet come to light.

Your feet pushed you upward out of your seat and toward the river edge, careening over the railing. Your eyes scanned that river, the point where the glistening water met the seamless horizon - there was nothing there. The sky was clear and cloudless, the streets lively and vivid as ever, the residents of Rhysand’s hidden city cheerfully going about their day as always. Azriel remained hovering above, and in the near distance you were sure you saw Cassian doing the same, swooping low over the streets.

Heart beating rapidly, you swallowed down your dry throat, and that was when you saw them. A smudge in the sky straight ahead, coming from the ocean, wings flapping sleekly, cutting through the air with ease as the smudge split into multiples, and continued directly toward the city.

People began shouting then, pointing at those things in the sky, figures that grew and grew, wider and wider, more threatening with every inch they came closer. Pushing yourself from the railing, you dragged your feet across the cobblestones toward the nearest group of onlookers.

“Get inside!” You snapped frantically at them. “Get inside now, and take as many people as you can. Spread the word. Get to safety.”

“What is it?” One female said, dark midnight blue eyes widening at your panicked demeanour. Your eyes flashed back to the oncoming threat, breathing in a calming breath through your nose.

“Nothing good.” You hiked up your skirt, turning from them, shouting over your shoulder, “Go, now!”

The restaurants and cafés of the Palace of Salt and Bone whizzed past as you ran; the patrons and customers there seemed to sense the danger, perhaps from your frantic run, or those behind you who shouted to hide. To get to safety.

Safety. That wasn’t where you were going. You wouldn’t cower and hide, not this time. You circled through the streets, warning as many people as you could, until you reached that little tea room once again. The pot of lemon tea sat cold on the outside table, the chocolate torte that Azriel had bought for you untouched. But it was neither of these that caught your eye, but rather the glint of the meat knives on the next table, abandoned by the customer who had ordered venison for their lunch and scrambled to find sanctuary before even having their first bite. Two knives, sharp enough to cause some damage if used properly, but small. They would have to do, with no signs of any swords in any of the shops nearby.

A feral shriek sounded from somewhere further to the heart of the labyrinth of city streets. The arrows - they were shooting arrows from those flying creatures above down into the streets. The sky shone in bright bursts of red and blue as Azriel and Cassian’s Siphons bounced arrows back and away from the streets. But it wasn’t enough, you knew, to shield everyone.

A wall of red encased the city border where the streets met the ocean - Cassian on the far side, near the Rainbow of Velaris, guarding his home with everything he had. But those flying creatures - reminiscent of that nightmarish creature named the Attor that you had encountered Under the Mountain - lunged for it, pushing and reaching through it, battling with their every might to reach this city. Another wall of red, pushing some of those forces back, but the majority remained even as those that peeled away from the shield rained hell upon the city outskirts, the screams of those left outside of Cassian’s shields echoing even to your own ears from so far away.

You began running, not back to the safety of the city, nor the mountain that housed the House of Wind where you would no doubt be safe. Not even in the direction of Rhysand’s townhouse that would provide some semblance of safety. Rather, your feet began running directly toward that shield, down the path that paralleled the river. Azriel’s bellow of your name could be heard above the chaos, but you ignored it. You kept running, faster and faster, breaths coming out in pants, just as a gaping hole ripped open at the centre of the shield of red and Hybern’s legions leached through.

A swarm passed through that hole, like ants bursting from their nest, and each one carried with them a soldier of Hybern, each of them wielding a weapon that promised imminent death to whomever came into contact with it. Each street turned to a blur as you hurtled past them, one by one, and caught glimpses of Hybern Soldiers dropping to the cobblestones, weapons at the ready. The thuds of their heavy boots ricocheted down the spiralling streets. I tried to ignore the blood that splattered up my legs with every step, the trickles running between each stone. Even the air smelt of death and decay.

I reached the end of the street and hurtled around the corner - there was no intention in my mind of where exactly I was going, I simply had to be there, to defend this place as Cassian and Azriel were doing. Defend these people against the anguish that the enemy had brought upon them.

It was a few moments before you realised where you had found myself; the alley that homed Rita’s. But it wasn’t that little bar where you had spent so many days wallowing in your own misery that your eyes landed on, but rather the landlord of that establishment. Rita was stood on the front step of her bar, a fire poker in her hand raised up in front of her, the pointed end jabbed in the direction of four Hybern soldiers, their eyes gleaming with greed and hunger.

One deep breath, and you lunged.

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Wyllvember Day 4: Youth/Spa Day

A/N: Here we go, Day 4 of Wyll appreciation month! Hope you enjoy. Prompt credits go to @sagscrib and @commander-yinello

WC: 895

Wyll Ravengard loved these types of days. Sure, it took literal hours, and he couldn’t do much other than read or ogle his surroundings, but getting pampered by skilful hands, tight knots massaged out of his shoulders and delicious food being brought to him on a silver platter? He didn’t mind trading some of his free time for that. Of course, he didn’t like doing these things too often, mainly because it meant he would need to attend a rather important social function, and although he enjoyed dancing the night away or sneaking bites of some of the hors d’oeuvres, the noble’s scrutiny was far down the list of things he liked.

Although his father was rigid and strict, he didn’t ask much of him other than to not cause trouble and look somewhat presentable while at such an event. As a military man, he despised such social functions, believing them to be a waste of time and resources. But they were a necessary part of being in a position of power, be it a military one or a political one. One of the many woes of being a Grand Duke, he liked to say. Still, Wyll thought as a masseur pressed into his hand, he really should come here occasionally, if only to get his back rubbed. Gods know that man is in a dire need of relaxation. Alas, even he did decide, by some miracle, that he needed to relax, he had an appointment with a new arrival to the city.

But as the young man lowered himself into a scented bath (were those roses he smelled? With a hint of bergamot?), he wondered why he had to attend balls. It’s not like he disliked them, they were sometimes a welcome change to his routine training and education, but there wasn’t a very good reason for his attendance. Granted, he was the son of a Grand Duke, and a fifteen-year-old one too, rapidly approaching adulthood, but his father never even mentioned marriage to him, most certainly not arranged marriages, nor did he talk about his future position in society much. Perhaps it was for connections? Meet new people, establish some kind of friendly rapport, gain allies, rinse, and repeat? His father may not care for such things, but he maybe he wanted a different life for his son. Who knows. Ulder Ravengard was a hard man to read when it came to his personal feelings on the best of days, and Wyll doubted that he would start explaining his reasonings now.

A brief sliver of doubt made its way into his mind. What if his father didn’t think him capable enough to follow in his footsteps? That thought was quickly banished. Despite his father not expressing most of his emotions, he was rather clear on what he disapproved of or wasn’t happy about. And although he did admonish his son when he caused trouble, he often times did so with a spark of amusement in those stern eyes. No, his father most certainly was proud of him and cared for him very much, even if he didn’t express it properly, Wyll had no doubts about it.

The teenager spent an hour or two in that bath, long enough for his fingers to wrinkle considerably. It was only when a maid came to fetch him for a skin treatment did he leave the still warm water. Oh, how he loved those enchantments. Convenience aside, they were fascinating to him. Sometimes he even wondered if it was too late to become a wizard Though he supposes that would require him to spend hours in a stuffy library, and he would much rather explore the city.

As he dried himself off and slipped into the light linens that were prepared for him, he couldn’t help but wonder about his father’s visitor. From what he could gather the new arrival was a diplomat, and a very good one at that, but his father hated politicians, and diplomatic emissaries often fell under that category. Maybe it was an old friend? Hard to imagine his father become friends with someone such as this, but he wasn’t always a figure of authority, so perhaps this man wasn’t always a noble? Who knows. He was more interested in the fact that he brought his child with him. A daughter, he had heard, though not much more than that. Maybe she would be willing to help him out with a small prank? Or maybe she would refuse and avoid him for the rest of her life. Gods, sometimes he truly wishes he could peer into people’s heads, see their thoughts. But if he did that, they could probably do so to him too, so other than the ethical side of things, he might get his head invaded as well. On second thought, such fantasies were more akin to nightmares. Maybe he should wait to meet the girl in a more organic way than ambushing her with a question about whether she would like to get into trouble with him.

And so, he headed into the next room as he tried to push out the thought of mind reading and girls from his mind, entirely oblivious to the fact that fate had other plans for him in nine years or so. Who knew that nightmares and delayed meetings would happen at the same time?

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In today's busy world we are on the verge of losing our "me" time. To utilize the most of it and save some good "me" time we must delve into the ecstasy of spa treatments. Aroundme provides every bit of it. Aroundme provides you with information on the best spa centers and best services. Aroundme also saves your time and offers the best deals, coupon codes, and huge discounts.

It is also said that "Don't wait for the perfect time to come, take some time and make it perfect."  So our esteemed clients take out your time and connect with aroundme to get your desired services done.

Customized services for men and women available at beauty spas in Mumbai

In this rapidly moving and progressing world, people are tirelessly working to achieve their goals. In this rush to reach the heights of success, most people often tend to ignore the importance of spending some time to rejuvenate their tired mind and body. Often people do not take good care of their skin which makes them look more aged and tired than they actually are. Massage therapists, aestheticians, nail technicians, and assistants working at beauty spas in Mumbai provide the much-required relief from the monotonous and hectic lifestyle to people visiting the spa along with professional assistance to groom and enhance their overall personality. Beauty spas not only provide services that rejuvenate a person physically but also sooth mentally. There are some services which are specifically made for men and some for women.

Aroundme have a clear vision of connecting local businesses with diversified customers and bridging the gap between them. We help local merchants to discover new customers and their tastes and interests accordingly. As well, we enable our customers to discover the best dealers from among the various local businesses listed on our website.

Email: info@aroundme.co.in | Call Us: +91 9392080762 You Can Visit Our Website For More Details https://www.aroundme.co.in/

[farmergilesofham]

My Second Destiny OC Story (Part 2 of the first)

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Having dealt with the wanderers' Hive-related problem, I found myself showered by invitations to accompany the group in their journey towards the Last City, of which they too had heard tell. Their accounts differed somewhat from the stories Loxley had regaled me with, but remained much the same in the important respects: it was a safe haven, it was a place of rest, it was a place where they could raise their children without fear. The Last City, in my travels with these people and others, took on mythical form - it was with a religious fervor that the young and old alike spoke of it, of its flying buttresses, of its valiant defenders, of a city bathed in the eternal reverent Light of the Traveler.

All told, I was their protector for ninety-seven years. We crossed an ocean together.

Before my arrival, the party (whom the children tried to name all manner of creative things, to little avail) had subsisted mainly by scavenging for food, water, and supplies. Their defensive capabilities were nonexistent, and their pursuit by a single contingent of Hive had left everyone ragged and on the near edge of despair. I soon set about rectifying their situation.

The surrounding landscape still seemed shockingly devoid of life, despite being so close to fairly dense woodland, yet it was not awfully long before careful snares found a dozen oversized hares, and scrummaging in the undergrowth produced some of the most excellent mushrooms I have ever had the genuine pleasure to set eyes upon. Travel was essential, however, so I set about having the strongest of the adults fell a few thin beeches, which were swiftly lashed together into the base of a hand-cart. However, with the sun beginning to dip below the horizon, I despaired for the lack of some solid wooden wheels, until I was shown the most excellent invention made popular at some point after my death - wheels crafted from solid metal! Quite the invention indeed.

Fitted with a proper set of wheels, repurposed from some terribly rusted machine, the cart housed most of the group's possessions, and seated the children when travelling across difficult terrain. We set out that same evening, the group filled with a sudden confidence that my arrival meant they could finally entertain their dream of reaching the Last City, alive.

The stars are different now than I remember them, if only slightly. There are somewhat fewer of them.

Our first meal, taken around midnight as we reached a more defensible location - a wooded hollow, in the midst of three rotund boulders - was apparently the best they had had in months. It was the first thing I had eaten in centuries, but to mention such a thing would have been rude, I figured. The spit-roasted hares were delicious, as were the mushrooms we fried on a large, flat rock. I found some small root vegetables quite similar to potatoes growing just at the foot of one boulder, and a treatment on the rock found they were, indeed, some variation of potato hitherto unknown to me. I have made note of these and other new plants in my personal journal, which for now I shall be keeping to myself. I can't have you stealing my best recipes, can I?

I watched over them, sleeping huddled together around the long fire, as the gentle light of the stars slipped away in lieu of a warm, bright sunrise. We set off shortly thereafter, and that is when I learned all their names.

The eldest members of the party, each at least sixty when I joined them, if not older, were Darma, Mago, and Kara. Darma was a surprisingly spry, chestnut-brown woman, with all the telltale signs of a long and active life resplendent on her ever-smiling face. Mago, a crotchety old fellow ever possessed of more bark than bite, as he snuck little sugardrops to the children while their parents weren't looking, only to complain over some ache of his or another when eyes turned back to him. He, too, had skin dark by nature, and darkened still by so much time in the sun, in contrast with the shock of white hair miraculously clinging on to his aged scalp. Kara was... she was kind. She was easily the most able of the elders, and used that ability wisely indeed. In the end, she outlived even some of the younger generation, and we buried her under the shade of an aged oak in sight of the sea. She always said that if nothing else, she wanted to see the ocean at least once before she died.

I sat with her, in the light of the setting sun, and held her hand as she passed with the ending of the day.

The other original members of the party were Aulia, Alina, Siobhan, Kronan, Salieri, Perrhe, and Himilco among the adults, along with the children: Stora, Sinon, Parrha, Arrhon, Siti, Velasqua, and Kastor. Most folk were unrelated, stragglers picked up along the road or secreted away from unfavourable situations. Perrhe, Parrha and Arrhon were the only ones there related by blood, and they flourished when everyone worked together. It was after learning everyone's names that I taught the children how to make themselves a sling, with which they might catch themselves a bird for dinner, or knock down anything stuck higher than they could reach it. For the rest, as we made camp the following evening, I fashioned in short order a set of staves, with slots for lashing on simple metal points.

Though the stars are a little different, I can still navigate by their position, and indeed I used this to our advantage... until Lox chimed in, helpfully pointing out that in fact he had had a compass embedded somewhere in that biscuit tin of a body this entire time. Alas, my chances of seeming the all-knowing leader were dashed, and Lox was unbearable for the rest of the week. Do not believe anything he tells you about my being weepy and inconsolable, it is nonsense.

At a certain point, a hazy, jagged mass appeared on the horizon. We spent much of the day walking along well-beaten earth towards it, each mile passed emphasising the enormity of what we then thought was a low mountain, encrusted with outcrops of jagged stone.

That is all, for now. Of my first meeting with a Warlord, and the events which transpired thereafter, I may yet relay at a later date.

[indicure-health-tours]

Affordable Breast Implant Surgery in India: Your Path to a New You

Table of Contents:

Introduction

Why Choose Breast Implant Surgery in India?

Types of Best Breast Implants Used in India – Which to Choose?

Common Myths About Breast Implant Surgery in India

Breast Implants in India with IndiCure Health Tours

Start Your Path to a New You by Contacting IndiCure

Every woman deserves to feel confident and beautiful in her skin. In today’s world, the shape, size, and firmness of a woman’s breasts can profoundly impact a woman’s self-esteem. Yet, not every woman feels content with her natural appearance, with women having concerns about the size or volume of their breasts, and addressing these personal concerns can be challenging. 

That’s where breast augmentation—commonly called a ‘boob job’ or breast implant surgery—comes into play. This transformative procedure offers a lasting solution for women who wish to enhance the size, shape, or symmetry of their breasts. Known medically as augmentation mammoplasty  and more commonly as breast enlargement, the surgery allows women to achieve their desired look with enhanced breast size, while maintaining the natural texture of their breasts. 

In this article, we’ll explore the cost of breast implant surgery in India, the types of implants available, the recovery process, and how partnering with a trusted medical tourism facilitator like IndiCure Health Tours can help you save significantly while ensuring a seamless experience.

Why Choose Breast Implant Surgery in India?

For those seeking affordable yet world-class options, India has emerged as a leading destination for breast implant surgery. Plastic surgery tourism in India combines exceptional plastic surgery procedures, and care with cost savings, making it an attractive choice for international patients.  Here’s why India stands out as a preferred destination for breast implant surgery:

1. Affordable Costs Without Compromising Quality

One of the biggest advantages of choosing breast implant surgery in India is the cost. The procedure in India typically costs 50-70% less than in Western countries like the US, UK, or Australia. Despite the affordability, the quality of care and outcomes rival or even exceed international standards, making it a cost-effective solution.

2. Highly Experienced Plastic Surgeons

India is home to some of the most skilled and internationally trained plastic surgeons. Many Indian surgeons hold certifications from renowned global medical bodies and have extensive experience performing breast implant surgeries. They are well-versed in the latest techniques, ensuring that patients achieve safe and aesthetically pleasing results.

3. Advanced Medical Facilities

The best plastic surgery clinics in India are equipped with cutting-edge technology and adhere to stringent hygiene protocols. Many facilities are accredited by global organizations like the Joint Commission International (JCI) or the National Accreditation Board for Hospitals & Healthcare Providers (NABH), assuring patients of top-notch care.

4. Customizable Treatment Options

Indian plastic surgeons offer a variety of implant types (silicone, gummy bear, high profile round implants etc.) and surgical approaches, allowing patients to choose options that best suit their aesthetic goals and individual needs. Personalized consultations ensure that every patient feels confident and informed about their choices.

5. Opportunity to Combine Surgery with Travel

India’s rich culture, history, and natural beauty offer a unique opportunity to combine medical treatment with a memorable travel experience. Many patients choose to explore top tourist destinations in India like the Taj Mahal, vibrant cities, and serene beaches while recovering post-surgery.

6. Privacy and Discretion

For women seeking a private and discreet experience, India offers a welcoming and professional environment. Clinics and hospitals prioritize patient confidentiality, ensuring a comfortable experience throughout the treatment journey.

Types of Best Breast Implants Used in India – Which to Choose?

During your breast implant surgery procedure, your plastic surgeon will place the selected breast implant either beneath the breast tissue or the chest muscle. While the process is generally safe, choosing the right type of implant is essential to achieve the desired results and minimize risks. 

Each type of breast implant comes with unique features and considerations, and some may only be suitable for specific age groups or individual needs. Consulting with your surgeon is vital to determine the best option for your body. Let’s dive into the different types of breast implants available: 

1. Saline Breast Implants

Saline breast implants are filled with sterile salt water, making them a highly safe option. In the rare event of a rupture, the saline water is harmlessly absorbed and eliminated by the body. These implants are designed to be durable and flexible, with minimal risk of breakage. Their primary appeal lies in their safety and simplicity.

2. Silicone Breast Implants

Silicone implants are filled with a high-quality silicone gel, offering a more stable and natural feel compared to saline implants. Following FDA clearance for silicone implants in cosmetic surgery, they have become the most popular choice due to their natural feel and texture. Modern implants use cohesive gel, making them completely safe, which contributes to their preference over saline implants globally. Among these, round-shaped cohesive silicone gel implants are the most commonly chosen option.

3.. Form-Stable Breast Implants (Gummy Bear Implants) 

Form-stable implants, often called gummy bear implants, represent an advanced type of silicone implant. They contain a thicker silicone gel that maintains its shape even if the implant shell breaks. These implants are firm and stable, providing a natural look and feel with added durability. However, they require a slightly longer incision during surgery.

4. Round Breast Implants

Round implants are designed to create fuller, rounder breasts. They are a preferred choice for those seeking enhanced cleavage and volume. One major advantage of round implants is their consistent appearance, even if they shift slightly within the breast pocket. Their symmetrical shape ensures that the breasts retain their aesthetic appeal. 

5. Smooth Breast Implants

Smooth implants are the softest and most natural-looking option. Their smooth outer surface allows for natural movement, mimicking the behaviour of real breasts. These implants are ideal for patients who prioritize a lifelike look and feel. 

6. Textured Breast Implants

Textured implants are designed to stay firmly in place. Their surface encourages the formation of scar tissue around the implant, preventing it from shifting within the breast pocket. While effective at maintaining their position, these implants require regular monitoring to ensure their condition remains optimal. 

Choosing the right breast implant is a personal decision that depends on your aesthetic goals, lifestyle, and health considerations. Each implant type offers distinct advantages, whether it’s the durability of gummy bear implants, or the natural appearance of smooth implants. 

A detailed consultation with your surgeon is essential to explore these options and determine the best fit for your body and expectations. With the variety of breast implants available, achieving your desired look has never been more achievable.

Common Myths About Breast Implant Surgery in India

Despite the widespread acceptance of breast implant surgery in India, the procedure is surrounded by numerous myths and misconceptions that can deter women from considering it. Let’s debunk some of the most common myths about breast implant surgery and uncover the truths behind them.

1.Breast Implants Look Fake

The Myth: Many people believe that breast implants result in an unnatural or "fake" appearance.

The Truth: Advances in surgical techniques and implant technology in India have made it possible to achieve highly natural results. Surgeons now customize the procedure based on a patient’s body type, breast shape, and aesthetic preferences. With options like smooth, round, or gummy bear implants, patients can enhance their appearance while maintaining a realistic look and feel.

2. Breast Implants Are Unsafe

The Myth: Breast implants are dangerous and pose serious health risks.

The Truth: Modern breast implants are thoroughly tested and regulated by international health authorities like the FDA. Both saline and silicone implants have been deemed safe for use. While no medical procedure is entirely without risk, complications from breast implant surgery are rare when performed by a qualified surgeon. Regular checkups and monitoring further ensure long-term safety.

3. Recovery Is Long and Painful

The Myth: Breast implant surgery requires an extended recovery period filled with pain and discomfort.

The Truth: While recovery varies for each individual, most women can resume light activities within a week. Modern surgical techniques focus on minimizing pain and downtime. Discomfort is typically manageable with prescribed medication, and patients often return to their normal routines within a few weeks.

4. Implants Prevent You from Feeling Your Breasts

The Myth: Breast implants cause complete loss of sensation in the breasts or nipples.

The Truth: Temporary numbness is common after surgery, but sensation usually returns as the body heals. Permanent loss of sensation is extremely rare and often depends on the surgical approach and individual anatomy. Discussing concerns with your surgeon can help reduce risks.

5. Implants Are Only for Young Women

The Myth: Breast implants are meant only for younger women.

The Truth: Women of all ages can benefit from breast implant surgery in India. Whether it's to restore volume lost due to aging, pregnancy, or weight loss, breast implants can help women feel confident at any stage of life. Surgeons carefully assess a patient’s overall health to ensure suitability for the procedure.

6. Breast Implants Feel Heavy and Uncomfortable

The Myth: Implants feel unnatural and weigh down the chest.

The Truth: Modern breast implants are designed to mimic the natural texture and feel of breast tissue. They are lightweight and proportionate to your body’s structure. A skilled surgeon ensures the right size and placement for comfort and balance.

Breast Implants in India with IndiCure Health Tours

At the forefront of this growing plastic tourism trend is IndiCure Health Tours, a trusted name that bridges the gap between international patients and India’s leading cosmetic surgeons and hospitals. IndiCure has a proven track record of satisfied clients from around the world who have successfully undergone breast implant surgery in India.

Let us explore why choosing IndiCure Health Tours for breast implant surgery in India is a decision that ensures excellence, safety, and unmatched value. Here are the key benefits of choosing IndiCure Health Tours:

IndiCure collaborates with India’s best plastic surgeons and accredited hospitals, ensuring that you are treated by professionals with proven expertise in breast augmentation.

Every patient has unique goals and preferences. IndiCure works closely with patients to understand their needs and create tailored treatment plans that align with their expectations.

IndiCure provides clear and upfront cost estimates, covering every aspect of your medical tour. This transparency eliminates surprises and ensures complete peace of mind.

From your initial inquiry to post-operative care, IndiCure offers end-to-end support. This includes helping with visa arrangements, travel bookings, local transportation, and accommodation near your treatment center.

IndiCure offers all-inclusive plastic surgery packages that include surgery, hospital stays, hotel accommodations, and even sightseeing options, giving patients a holistic experience at an affordable price.

IndiCure’s extensive gallery of before-and-after photos showcasing the remarkable results of breast implant surgery and other breast surgery procedures performed by their expert plastic surgeons. Witness the satisfaction and confidence their patients have gained from these outstanding outcomes.

Start Your Path to a New You by Contacting IndiCure

Breast implant surgery in India is a significant decision, and partnering with IndiCure Health Tours ensures you’re in the best hands. Transform your confidence and appearance with breast implant surgery in India.

Here is what IndiCure Health Tours does for you when you choose to undergo breast implant surgery in India with their assistance -

IndiCure Health Tours arranges virtual consultations with experienced plastic surgeons to discuss your goals, expectations, and medical history. Once your surgery is scheduled, IndiCure helps organize your travel itinerary, accommodation, and treatment schedule. Your surgery will take place in a world-class facility under the care of expert surgeons. Post-surgery, you’ll receive personalized follow-up care to ensure a smooth recovery. Let IndiCure guide you on this journey to beauty and self-assurance. Reach out today to take the first step!

[aestheticclinicdubai]

Expert Skincare Clinics in Dubai: Why Roxana Aesthetics Is the Best

If you're searching for the best expert skincare clinic in Dubai, Roxana Aesthetics stands out with its perfect blend of innovation, personalization, and advanced technology. You'll experience cutting-edge facial therapies and precision treatments tailored to your unique skin needs, all done by a highly skilled team passionate about skincare. Their state-of-the-art technologies, like laser resurfacing and cryotherapy, are designed to rejuvenate and raise, offering holistic and science-backed solutions. Personalized care guarantees your skincare journey is as unique as you are, with attention given to every detail. Discover how Roxana Aesthetics can enhance your skincare experience.

Innovative Skincare Treatments

In the bustling world of skincare clinics in Dubai, innovative treatments are constantly evolving to meet the demand for youthful, radiant skin.

You're in a city where beauty thrives, and the promise of a glowing complexion is within reach. With advanced facial therapies, you'll experience the magic of cutting-edge products that transform your skin like never before.

Imagine a treatment that's tailored to your unique needs, using the latest technology to target your specific concerns.

These therapies don't just promise change; they deliver with precision, offering a journey to a more confident you.

Feel the difference as these innovations work their wonders, enhancing your natural beauty.

Embrace the future of skincare, where science meets luxury, and every session brings you closer to your dream skin.

Personalized Client Care

Amidst the ever-evolving treatments in Dubai's skincare scene, the focus shifts to personalized client care that guarantees your specific needs are at the forefront.

At Roxana Aesthetics, your journey begins with a genuine connection. We listen closely to your concerns, valuing client feedback as an integral part of our process. This isn't just a one-size-fits-all approach; it's about you.

We believe in treatment customization, tailoring each session to suit your unique skin type and goals. Our expert team crafts a plan that aligns with your lifestyle, ensuring ideal results.

You'll feel cared for, understood, and confident that your skincare journey is in capable hands. Here, intimacy isn't just desired—it's delivered with every personalized touch, making your experience truly exceptional.

State-of-the-Art Technology

Dubai's skincare clinics embrace cutting-edge technology to enhance your beauty regimen to new heights. Roxana Aesthetics leads the way by integrating the most advanced equipment and techniques, ensuring you get the best results possible.

Imagine a world where your skin dreams become reality, all thanks to state-of-the-art innovations. Here's what sets Roxana Aesthetics apart:

- **Laser Resurfacing**: Redefine your skin's texture and tone with precision.

- **Radiofrequency Treatments**: Firm and lift your skin with non-invasive methods.

- **Cryotherapy**: Revitalize and rejuvenate your complexion using cold therapy.

- **Ultrasound Technology**: Deeply penetrate and treat your skin without discomfort.

These cutting-edge techniques make a noticeable difference, allowing you to enjoy personalized treatments tailored to your unique skin needs.

Your journey to radiant skin starts here.

Skilled Professional Team

A skilled professional team is the backbone of any successful skincare clinic, and Roxana Aesthetics is no exception. You'll immediately sense the difference when you meet the highly qualified experts dedicated to meeting your skincare needs.

Each team member boasts impressive qualifications, ensuring they're equipped to provide exceptional care. But it's not just about credentials; it's their passion for skincare that truly sets them apart.

At Roxana Aesthetics, continuous training is a priority. The team stays updated with the latest advancements and techniques, guaranteeing you the best possible experience.

You'll notice their commitment to excellence in every consultation and treatment. With their expert touch, they're ready to guide you on your journey to radiant skin, making you feel genuinely cared for.

Holistic Skincare Approach

Roxana Aesthetics doesn't stop at expertise; they embrace a holistic skincare approach that goes beyond the surface.

Imagine a sanctuary where your skin's health is nurtured with care and precision. At Roxana, they recognize that true beauty is intertwined with your lifestyle.

They focus on:

- Harnessing **natural ingredients** to nourish and rejuvenate your skin.

- Analyzing your **lifestyle factors** to tailor treatments that fit seamlessly into your life.

- Creating personalized regimens that honor your unique skin story.

- Providing guidance that empowers you to maintain radiant skin at home.

You'll find yourself embraced in a world where every detail is designed to cater to your needs.

Roxana Aesthetics guarantees that your skincare journey is as unique as you are, fostering a connection that feels both personal and profound.

Conclusion

Imagine your skin as a garden. At Roxana Aesthetics, they don't just water the plants; they nurture every seed. With personalized care and state-of-the-art technology, their skilled team helps your skin bloom beautifully. Clients often say it's like having a master gardener for your skin, ensuring every treatment is tailored just for you. With their holistic approach, Roxana Aesthetics transforms skincare into an art, making it the best choice for your skincare journey in Dubai.

[drpauls]

Achieve a New Look with Hair Transplant in Kolkata

Dealing with hair loss can be a distressing experience, impacting your confidence and self-esteem. Thankfully, advanced solutions like Hair Transplant in Kolkata provide an effective way to restore your hair and reclaim your confidence. Dr. Paul's Advanced Hair and Skin Solutions offers world-class hair transplant procedures, ensuring excellent results tailored to individual needs.

What is Hair Transplantation?

Hair transplantation is a minimally invasive surgical procedure that involves moving hair follicles from a donor area (usually the back of the scalp) to areas experiencing thinning or baldness. With cutting-edge technology and experienced specialists, the Hair Transplant in Kolkata process at Dr. Paul's clinic is seamless, safe, and delivers natural-looking results.

Why Choose Hair Transplant in Kolkata?

State-of-the-Art Clinics: Clinics like Dr. Paul's are equipped with the latest tools and technologies, ensuring a hassle-free experience.

Experienced Professionals: The specialists have years of experience performing successful procedures tailored to clients’ needs.

Customized Solutions: Whether it's FUE (Follicular Unit Extraction) or FUT (Follicular Unit Transplantation), you get personalized options for your specific condition.

Cost-Effective Treatment: Compared to other cities, Hair Transplant in Kolkata offers premium services at competitive prices.

Benefits of Hair Transplantation

Permanent Solution: Unlike other treatments, hair transplantation provides a long-lasting fix for hair loss.

Natural Appearance: The transplanted hair blends seamlessly with your existing hair.

Boosts Confidence: Restoring your hairline can significantly improve your self-esteem.

Minimal Downtime: Modern techniques ensure quick recovery.

Dr. Paul’s Advanced Hair and Skin Solutions: Your Trusted Partner

When it comes to Hair Transplant in Kolkata, Dr. Paul's clinic stands out for its:

Expert Team: Highly trained professionals with a proven track record in successful transplants.

Cutting-Edge Technology: Use of the latest techniques, including robotic hair transplantation.

Personalized Care: Comprehensive pre- and post-treatment care for optimal results.

Affordable Packages: Flexible pricing options without compromising on quality.

Why Hair Transplantation is Popular in Kolkata

Kolkata has become a hub for advanced medical treatments, attracting patients from across the country. The city’s clinics, including Dr. Paul’s, combine affordability with excellence, making Hair Transplant in Kolkata a preferred choice for individuals seeking quality care.

The Process of Hair Transplantation

Consultation: Assess your hair loss condition and discuss expectations.

Planning: Choose the best technique, whether FUE or FUT, based on individual needs.

Procedure: Graft extraction and implantation are done with precision.

Post-Care: Guidance on care and recovery to ensure the best outcomes.

Conclusion

If you’re looking for a reliable, effective solution for hair loss, Hair Transplantation in Kolkata at Dr. Paul’s Advanced Hair and Skin Solutions is the answer. With their advanced techniques and exceptional care, you can achieve the look you’ve always desired.

Visit Dr. Paul’s Hair Transplant Clinic in Kolkata to book your consultation today and take the first step towards a confident you!

[lafemmeindiain]

hair, skin, bridal salon, Special offers by lafemmeindia Ahmedabad

Hair, Skin & Bridal Salon: Special Offers by La Femme India in Ahmedabad

La Femme India, located in the heart of Ahmedabad, is a premier hair, skin, and bridal salon dedicated to enhancing your natural beauty. With a commitment to delivering exceptional services and an outstanding customer experience, La Femme India stands out as a top destination for beauty treatments in the city.

Hair Botox Ahmedabad

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Unmatched Services for Hair, Skin, and Bridal Care

At La Femme India, we believe that every individual deserves to look and feel their best. Our salon offers a wide range of services tailored to meet the unique needs of every client:

Hair Care Services

Our expert stylists specialize in cutting, coloring, and styling your hair to perfection. Whether you want a trendy new look, a classic style, or a rejuvenating hair treatment, our team uses the best products and techniques to give you the healthiest, most stylish hair possible.

Cysteine hair treatment Ahmedabad

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Haircuts & Styling: From trims to dramatic makeovers, we ensure your hair looks flawless.

Hair Coloring: Explore a variety of shades and techniques, including balayage, highlights, and ombré.

Hair Treatments: Nourish your locks with deep-conditioning and restorative treatments to maintain shine and vitality.

Skin Care Treatments

Achieving glowing and youthful skin has never been easier with our comprehensive skincare solutions. Our skilled professionals provide customized facials and treatments that cater to your skin type and concerns.

Pre-Bridal Packages Vastrapur

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Facials & Skin Treatments: Rejuvenate your skin with our luxurious facials, designed to hydrate, brighten, and detoxify.

Anti-Aging Solutions: Address fine lines, wrinkles, and skin elasticity with advanced treatments.

Acne & Pigmentation Treatments: Get clearer skin with our targeted treatments for acne and pigmentation.

Bridal Services

Your wedding day is one of the most important days of your life, and La Femme India ensures you look nothing less than perfect. Our bridal services are designed to make you feel radiant and stress-free on your special day.

Bridal Beauty Treatments Ahmedabad

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Bridal Makeup & Hair: Our experienced artists will create a flawless look that complements your wedding attire and theme.

Pre-Wedding Skin & Hair Care: We offer packages to prepare you for the big day, including facials, hair treatments, and body polishing.

Special Offers at La Femme India

To make your beauty experience even more delightful, La Femme India offers exclusive discounts and packages:

Balayage hair color treatment in Ahmedabad

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Bridal Package Discount: Book a bridal package and receive up to 20% off on selected services.

Hair Care Special: Avail 15% off on all hair treatments, cuts, and coloring services for first-time clients.

Skin Care Package Offer: Get a free facial with every purchase of a 5-session skin treatment package.

Book your appointment today and indulge in the best beauty treatments at unbeatable prices. Visit La Femme India in Ahmedabad, where beauty meets excellence!

Balayage Highlights Ahmedabad

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Visit us today at: 103, Abhishilp Complex, Opp. ITC Narmada, Vastrapur, Ahmedabad 380 015, Gujarat, INDIA.

Call us on : +91 - 79 - 4003 7363, +91 - 79 - 4002 7363,

(M) : +91 - 99982 40900 ( Whatsapp )

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Email us - info@lafemmeindia.com

Inquire us – https://www.lafemmeindia.com/contact-us.html

Website: https://www.lafemmeindia.com/