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avelera · 1 day ago

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Was wondering if you had any theories about Viktor's childhood experiences and how exactly that shapes his politics?

I agree that Viktor is largely apolitical and pacifist, and I'm getting the sense that perhaps he believes politics/the council is incapable of solving the issues. After all, they haven't so far, and Viktor does respect Heimerdinger, so rather than Heimerdinger choosing to look away, Viktor perhaps believes it is impossible to solve the problems in the undercity through the council.

When I first watched season 1, I truly had no clue how they were going to be able to resolve the political conflict. The council kind of sucks, but so does Silco, and I don't think Ekko was powerful enough to fully take over.

I can picture Viktor also having no clue. He refuses to make weapons because he knows they'll be used against innocent people in the undercity (and I think he's also opposed to violence as a solution in general), but at this point he doesn't have an alternative solution. He refuses to side with the council, but he doesn't have an alternative. I doubt he even knows Silco is in charge or that he's someone they might negotiate with at this point (I think the council only learns about Silco when Caitlyn returns), so instead he chooses to stay out of it.

And with his cult, I'm getting the sense Viktor still had no clue how to end the conflict between Zaun and Piltover, so he doesn't try, but instead tries to create a safe place for people who, like him, want to escape the violence. It obviously doesn't work out the way he intends, but I do think that was the idea, and perhaps he hoped because of the remote location and his peaceful seperation from society, no one would really bother him. And when they do, he concludes mass hive mind is the only answer to the violence (because he still had no clue how to resolve any of these conflicts)

And all this gives me the idea that Viktor really is desperate to escape that violence, and makes me wonder what he lived through during his time in the undercity that inspires his actions, since we know so little apart from the time he met Singed.

This got a little long, sorry about that, but wondering what theories you had.

I think there's a core assumption to the question that I'd like to isolate out in the hopes it helps me explain how I see Viktor's views.

There's an assumption inherent here that in political times, everyone must be political. But let me point out, most people are not. All you need to do is look at voting turnout numbers to see most people are not political, especially not at the local level where direct action happens. When was the last time anyone reading this voted in their local, municipal election? Do you even know when the next one is?

Now let me add another aspect to this: Piltover is not a democracy. It is by definition an oligarchy, in which power is held in the hands of a small, elite group.

So, in such a world, why would anyone like Viktor think it's even possible for an individual to impact politics? Which is why I think Viktor always saw the only way of impacting the world for the better as being through where his own gifts lay: in science.

But I do think it's more complicated than that. And I want to take the chance to further explore the political landscape as Viktor would have seen it throughout Arcane and why that would be enough to make him take zero interest in politics and have zero hope for its efficacy at solving the problems he wants to solve for people, and that he wants to solve for people regardless of their political background or national identity, because Viktor is shown to be colorblind when it comes to those concepts.

As far as we can tell, the only people with political power in Piltover are the 7 Councilor. The major Houses have some influence, but that's it. Minor Houses, like House Talis, can't even trade upon their meager levels of influence in their own son's trial. Ximena, the presumed matriarch of House Talis in the absence of any extended family for Jaye being shown, has to trade on sentiment. That's how little political power is spread around.

One thing that Vander and Silco were almost certainly pushing for in their protest at the bridge was for "Zaun" to have a political voice at all. This effort was ruthlessly quashed. The undercity doesn't have a representative on the Council, they don't have any Houses, they are effectively voiceless except through riots and protests.

And, as they say, those who make peaceful revolution impossible make violent revolution inevitable.

Furthermore, organized crime tends to spring up and flourish in places that don't have a law of their own, or a law that common people can rely on. See the Italian mafia in the US, which in part sprang up from the fact these communities needed to be self-governing and self-protecting because the official law of the land wouldn't protect them. But then, of course, the criminal forces that stepped into that power vacuum may gain wide acceptance for keeping the peace and providing other social services, but then in order to hold onto power, they're going to prevent the actual authorities from stepping into their territory. Once they have a hold there, there's no elections either, there's no way to cast out a malfunctioning organized crime unit that's providing those social services.

This is more or less what I think happened with Silco. He stepped in and created a society in the undercity, one that he was able to run because Piltover turned its attention outward with the Hexgates, it no longer needed to rely on the labor of the underclasses in the undercity so they left them to their own devices.

But Silco's government was corrupt. I think that gets lost in a lot of Zaun vs. Piltover debates. Silco's Zaun was just as much an oligarchy as Piltover, they had their own Council with the chem-barons who are directly paralleled in the "Sucker" sequence in 2.02. There is no "Piltover is better" or "Zaun is better" they are both corrupt.

Where in the world would Viktor get the idea that the solution to the political problems between Zaun and Piltover would be solved by handing more political power to people like Silco? Why in the world would he reach the conclusion that two oligarchies would be the solution?

And even in such a world where maybe, self-governance would help some people in the undercity, why in the world would Viktor believe he would personally be able to make that happen?

In a society with no democracy, when the one attempt to gain a voice for the undercity was ruthlessly quashed most likely while Viktor was still a student in the Academy, where in the world where Viktor have developed a sense that he could have impact on politics or wouldn't simply die in the attempt if he joined a political movement, thus improving nothing? And if you can't buy into politics in any meaningful way, why pay attention to it?

Viktor has found his keys to the kingdom in science. He has one avenue to excellence, which is solving the material difficulties facing the undercity like cleaning up the air and making the labor there less backbreaking and difficult. He has a narrow focus. Indeed, one of his flaws is that it's kind of "his way or the highway" he doesn't appear to even seriously entertain other avenues besides science for improving lives in the undercity.

This is particularly interesting because he was an assistant to Heimerdinger, albeit in his role as Dean of the Academy I believe. Yet Viktor doesn't see Jayce's role as a Councilor as an avenue towards meaningful change, why?

I genuinely can only speculate there. Why doesn't Viktor ever try to advocate for the undercity when he has access to Heimerdinger? Or, as two scientists, do both just see it as the role of science to better lives down there, rather than political action? Heimerdinger does seem remarkably politically disinterested for someone who is the nominal head of the government. All the wheeling and dealing happens behind his back. Perhaps Viktor is just as oblivious, who knows? Maybe Viktor's lack of political interest is what made Heimerdinger like him enough to employ him as his assistant in the first place.

Now to further answer your question, I'd say Viktor isn't even trying to politically solve anything because it's unthinkable that he would be able to. That's why the undercity independence play I think makes him cautiously optimistic, if you see his face during the vote right before the rocket hits. He never really thought politics could solve this but maybe it can. Maybe the key is to just let the undercity go its own way. I'd argue Viktor seems a bit skeptical when he announces that Jayce brokered a peace with Silco, I don't think Viktor likes Silco, or likes the idea of handing the reins of power to him. But he does appear optimistic when the vote begins to go that way, in I would argue is one of the rare positive political moments for Viktor (the only other that I can think of is when he speaks favorably of Vander's vision for Zaun).

Then the rocket hits, which must be a gut punch of further disillusionment. It's not just Piltover that's preventing Zaun's independence, it's Zaun, it's the cycle of violence, it's the fact that the conflict has gone on for so long and is so ugly that a solution is no longer possible without more bloodshed.

This inevitable bloodshed includes Jinx and Cait's forces wiping out the remaining chem barons, thus in my opinion making the conflict a moot point, because there's no one on the other side to negotiate with anymore. There is no potential Zaun government anymore if there's no one to hand power to, there's no democracy to set up (not in Piltover either, so there's no example of one). Zaun dies with Silco and goes back to being the undercity, an impoverished community within Piltover. Its Shimmer economy dies, which was the only technology that gave it a prayer of competing with Piltover on the battlefield too.

Quick aside, I get that people are mad there isn't more Zaun vs. Piltover in S2, but that's already dead as a conflict in 2.03. Zaun gets decimated as a political player. It has no leadership, no weapons, nothing that allows it to act as an independent state anymore. Piltover won and it did so because Jinx's rocket gave them the motivation they needed to cut off the head of the snake, the snake Jayce was willing to negotiate with to give them their independence.

That's gone now. There is no Zaun. There's no one to give power to. There's no military, no forces, no money. It is not a state anymore. Sevika is trying to rally the various disaffected factions in 2.04 and even that is slow going because of the old internal hatreds. And even if everyone did rally, all Sevika is hoping for is to make enough of a cohesive Zaunite identity to be able to bring grievances to Piltover. She can't even organize that. Zaun doesn't have an identity anymore in 2.04, and not enough internal organization to begin to form anything resembles a town council let alone the government of a nation.

So in that backdrop, where in the world would Viktor have any notion that he can impact events with politics? Or any desire to when the most promising political hope Zaun had, which he had a hand in, was destroyed the second it arrived by a Zaunite who didn't want the deal? This is a difficult, intractable problem.

Of course Viktor would see the best way to "solve" this problem is to not engage with it at all. It's to sidestep it entirely. Go back down to the individual level, help those in need, give them a place away from conflict in which to flourish and live peaceful lives. He essentially starts a monastery during the political Dark Ages of the collapse of order in the undercity, a very natural human response.

Then, he decides the best way to solve this problem is just to stop it. Get everyone on the same side, even if it's into a hivemind. That's why he's willing to take poor shimmer addicts from Zaun like Huck and rich Councilors like Salo from Piltover.

I also think his view is informed by his parallels in the real world in that he's apolitical because he's a scientist, and to a scientist all these lines of caste and creed and nation are meaningless on a biological level, we are all people. That's how I think Viktor sees it. It's part of why I think too, somewhat speculatively, that Viktor only talks about being from the undercity as a place of origin for him, not as an identity, because I think he thinks all such identities are nonsense, they're missing the point of the general advance of humanity, something many scientists around the world feel. I'm more quick to ascribe an attitude I see amongst scientists, engineers, and astronauts to Viktor than I am to ascribe a political identity to him. I don't think he sees political identities are relevant.

For example, besides noting Jayce's privilege when they first meet, he never denounces Jayce as being from Piltover or sees it as a barrier to them working together. He never singles out details of Jayce's identity by birth as being relevant. Because such details are meaningless in science. He only even brings up Jayce's background, I think, the one time when they first meet to point out to Jayce that while he has lost the benefits of his patron and House Talis name, there's still a path forward for him, the one Viktor started with. He mentions it as a reason that Jayce doesn't need to commit suicide when he loses those things. But he doesn't blame Jayce for having them.

At no point, even when Jayce is othering the people of the undercity, does Viktor other him right back as being from Piltover. In my view, Viktor's response is actually, "Hey, a member of your in-group is also from the undercity, stop framing everyone from there as outgroup/other, you know better than this." And Jayce immediately acknowledges that Viktor is right. They are immediately back on the same page that political identity lines are meaningless when it comes to improving lives (aside, real world people who play identity politics do realize we're all aiming for a world where everyone can flourish regardless of their identity, right??).

However, he does admire those like Vander who imagined a peaceful end to the conflict by establishing a nation of Zaun, however it should be noted, I think Viktor saw Vander's effort as inspiring but tragically doomed to failure. Hence, the need for Glorious Evolution, when the most well-intention dreams have no hope of ever happening. Seeing people like Vander fail is part of the disillusionment that makes Viktor further decide to disregard and supersede all politics through his own scientifically endowed magical power.

So anyway I hope this very long, involved essay helps explain a bit better how I view Viktor's politics, specifically his lack of them.

Edit: I just realized you also asked about Viktor's childhood. I have less to say there because we know so little but I would add:

Viktor was othered by people in the undercity as well as people from Piltover. I think that would lend to his view that people are just people, there are no real lines of politics or point of origin that matter. People will isolate him for his disability in both. No one is better than anyone else. It's just that people in Piltover by and large have more resources than those in the undercity, but both will look down on someone like him and avoid him.

You also have the fact that Viktor emigrated to Piltover presumably while still fairly young, either a teen or a young man, one would guess, based on his intellectual ability. I don't think he inherently sees the two cities as being separate, more like just two different areas of town, one of which is disadvantaged. Like moving from a poor neighborhood in Brooklyn to Manhattan. If Brooklyn began to lobby to become its own city or state, separate from Manhattan, some would see that as a good thing from self-governance perspective, others might see it as nonsense, which is where I think Viktor would mostly fall, but more importantly, I don't think he has faith that Brooklyn and Manhattan becoming separate states would really solve anything that matters, when the issues are things like air filtration systems, which can be solved with science.

As for things like, did young Viktor face violence? I think if he did, it would just add to his sense that a lack of resources breeds violence and the undercity needs prosperity to flourish, prosperity brought by scientific innovation. Politics again isn't going to solve these problems.

And I would finally add, Viktor found success and a sense of belonging in Piltover. I don't think he's as down on the place as people make him out to be sometimes. Jayce is from Piltover. Heimerdinger is too, these are two people who accepted Viktor and arguably who have loved him. I think as a result, Viktor would just see Piltover and the undercity as two places of origin within one city, a city he belongs to and wants to help improve by focusing on those in need.

#viktor arcane #jayvik #arcane meta #arcane #piltover #zaun

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fr0stf4ll · 9 hours ago

Text

A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 6

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 9k (long ass chapter lol)

Trigger warning; //

notes; Hello my loves <3 HAPPY NEW YEAR woohooo!!! Sorry for not posting these last few days, but they’ve been looong with all the celebrations. Plus, I had to travel back to my place, and it took forever. So today, you’ll not only get part 6, but also part 7 ;) (it should be up in the next few minutes). This chapter was actually pretty hard for me to write because I had doubts about where to take the story or if I should give more or fewer clues about Y/N’s background. Either way, don’t hesitate to comment because even if I don’t reply to all of you, I definitely read them, and I loveeee getting those notifications. Well, see you in a few minutes for part 7 lol <3

Link; Part 5 or Part 7

----

Late afternoon shadows stretched across Velaris as you and Cassian stepped off the bridge leading into the quieter district near the clinic. Both of you were weary—three days in Illyria had taxed your energy, even if the journey home was less fraught than the work you’d done in the camps. Your cloak felt heavier than usual, boots scuffing softly on the cobblestones as you approached the modest building that housed the clinic’s entrance and your apartment above it.

Cassian’s shoulders slumped a little, wings drooping as he glanced at you. “We made it,” he said, voice carrying a note of relief. “Another successful adventure survived.” His smile was a bit lopsided, but genuine.

You managed a small chuckle, rolling your stiff shoulders. “A success, I hope,” you answered quietly. “At least some of them seemed open to new methods.”

He nodded, raking a hand through his hair. “They’ll never admit it, but they’ll use what you taught them. You left an impression, Y/N.”

The simple honesty in his tone warmed you. The clinic door beckoned, safety and rest just inside. You paused at the threshold, turning to face him. “Thank you for coming with me,” you said softly. “I know you had other duties, but I’m grateful you lent your presence—and, frankly, your muscle—to ensure no one gave me too hard a time.”

Cassian shrugged, easy humor returning for a moment. “Any excuse to keep the Illyrians in line.” He sobered a fraction, studying you with quiet sincerity. “I’m glad I could help.”

A silence fell, not uncomfortable but weighted with the fatigue of the journey. At length, Cassian cleared his throat, as if remembering something. “Oh, right,” he said, seeming almost amused by whatever he’d forgotten. “Before I go—Rhys asked me to pass along an invitation. He’d like you to join him, Feyre, and a few others for dinner tomorrow night at their townhouse in Velaris. It’s a sort of… well, I guess a welcome dinner now that you’re truly back in the Night Court.”

Your eyes widened in surprise and a spark of gratitude lit behind them. “Dinner?” you repeated, a bit taken aback. “That’s… an honor. I—” You hesitated, a hundred questions floating to your mind. You weren’t sure what one normally did when invited to the High Lord’s home for a meal. “Should I bring anything?” you asked, half-wondering if a gift or some rare herbs might be customary.

Cassian’s grin turned playful. “Bring yourself,” he said simply. “That’s all they’ll want. Trust me, Rhys and Feyre don’t stand on ceremony with friends. Consider it an evening to relax, maybe talk about what’s next.” His gaze flicked over the clinic’s door, then back to you, voice softening. “You deserve a good meal and a bit of comfort after the work you’ve done.”

Touched by his words, you nodded. “All right,” you agreed. “I’ll be there.”

“Perfect.” He exhaled, one corner of his mouth lifting. “Now, I’d better let you rest. I think we’ve both earned a good night’s sleep.”

A small laugh escaped you. “Absolutely,” you said, resting a hand on the door’s latch. “Sleep well, Cassian.”

He gave you a salute that was half-mocking, half-genuine, wings fluttering as he turned away and headed down the street. You watched him go for a moment, then slipped inside the clinic, fatigue tugging at your limbs. Tomorrow, you would face the High Lord’s table, and perhaps some quieter conversations that might shape the next phase of your return.

For now, rest called, and you followed it gratefully up the stairs to your apartment, thoughts drifting between memories of Illyria’s harsh mountains and the warm promise of dinner among unlikely allies.

Back inside the familiar confines of the clinic, you paused just inside the door, drawing in the scents of linen and dried herbs that always lingered in the halls. Your joints ached a bit from the journey, but routine called, and you answered it. Before heading upstairs to your apartment, you moved through the quiet corridors to the records room. A low lamp flickered there, its glow soft against the shelves.

You ran your fingertips along the ledgers, pulling out the records from the past three days. Your eyes skimmed the entries, scanning notes that Elira and the other healers had left. No major emergencies, you read with relief—only a few minor wounds, a mild fever, the usual aches and pains. The neat handwriting confirmed that Elira had continued training the younger healers as planned. She��d even left a brief note: All went well. The younger ones are picking up the new bandaging technique quickly.

A small smile touched your lips. Good. Progress, even in your absence.

Satisfied that the clinic had fared well without you, you tucked the ledger back into place and turned toward the stairs. The promise of rest beckoned, and you ascended quietly, passing familiar sconces that flickered in the gentle air currents. Upstairs, your apartment welcomed you with its calm silence. You shrugged off your cloak, letting it fall over a chair, and considered the state of your legs and back. A warm bath—yes, that would be perfect.

You crossed to the small bathroom, lighting a few candles along the way. The soft glow gilded the tiled walls and the simple, claw-footed tub. Setting the faucet, you allowed steaming water to pour in, scenting it with a bit of lavender oil you kept for moments like these. As the tub filled and steam rose, you breathed deeply, letting the tension roll off your shoulders.

So much had happened—Illyria, the uncertain dynamics in the Night Court’s inner circle, and tomorrow, a dinner invitation from the High Lord himself. But for now, here, in this private sanctuary, you could let all that fade. Stripping out of your travel-stained clothes, you sank into the bath, the warm water cradling your tired muscles. The quiet of the evening settled over you, and the lavender-soaked steam eased the lingering edges of worry.

Tomorrow would bring its own challenges and discoveries. Tonight, you granted yourself peace.

—————

When evening arrived, you found yourself walking through Velaris’s softly lit streets, a bundle of carefully chosen flowers nestled in the crook of your arm. You’d spent much of the day working at the clinic as usual, but your mind had drifted often to the upcoming dinner. Now, wearing a simple but neat outfit—something presentable without being ostentatious—you followed the directions Cassian had given you, making your way toward the High Lord and High Lady’s townhouse.

Your heart fluttered with a mix of anticipation and nerves. It wasn’t as if you were heading into battle, but meeting them on such personal terms, in their private home, was a new threshold. You hadn’t seen Azriel since returning from Illyria, and though he might be present, you tried not to focus on that too much. This evening wasn’t about your confused feelings or the golden thread that tugged quietly at your awareness. It was about respect, camaraderie, and, hopefully, laughter over good food.

Rounding a corner, you came upon the district where the townhouse stood. The soft glow of streetlamps illuminated quiet lanes, and music drifted faintly from some distant party. Ahead, you spotted the house described to you—a graceful building of warm-colored stone and gently sloping roofs. It was large enough to accommodate their inner circle and guests, yet it didn’t loom or flaunt opulence. Instead, it exuded a gentle, welcoming aura.

Plants climbed trellises along the exterior, flowering vines weaving patterns around balconies and window frames. You caught the scent of night-blooming jasmine mingling with roses and citrus blossoms, an elegant tapestry of nature’s perfume draped over the home. It felt alive, this house—a place nurtured by caring hands. A place of growth and warmth.

Approaching the door, you paused to straighten your posture and smooth your clothes. The flowers you carried were modest and cheerful—nothing exotic or rare, just a vibrant mix of blooms from a local florist. You’d considered bringing wine, but after a moment’s reflection, you realized that whatever bottle you could afford would be outshone by the contents of their likely well-stocked cellar. Flowers, though, offered color, scent, and sincerity. That, you hoped, would be appreciated.

Exhaling slowly, you stepped forward, footfalls muffled by the ivy-softened walkway. The door’s brass knocker gleamed in the lamplight. You raised your free hand and knocked gently, heart fluttering once more. Perhaps it was silly to be nervous. You’d healed impossible wounds, steered conversations with stubborn Lords, and confronted your own uncertainties. You could handle a dinner invitation.

As you waited for someone to answer, you let your gaze drift along the eaves and sills. Lanterns dangled from hooks, their glass panels casting soft patterns of light and shadow across the entryway. Everything felt harmonious and attentive to detail—a reflection, perhaps, of the people who lived inside.

In a moment, you would be ushered in, welcomed as a friend or colleague rather than a mere visitor. The thought steadied you. The flowers shifted in your arms, and their gentle fragrance rose to meet you, a reminder that some gestures spoke volumes without words.

You were here, and you would face whatever the evening brought with an open heart.

The door swung open to reveal Feyre, her hair tumbling in soft waves over her shoulders, a gentle smile illuminating her features. She wore something elegant but not showy, a simple gown that played up her natural grace. When she saw you, her eyes lit even brighter, and she reached out, enfolding you in a warm, unexpected hug. It eased a little of the tension that had coiled in your chest.

“You’re here,” she said, voice calm and welcoming. “We’re so glad you could come.”

You offered her the bouquet, a mix of vivid blooms you’d chosen with care. Her eyes widened slightly, delighted. “They’re beautiful—thank you. I know a perfect spot for these.” She stepped back, holding the flowers with a careful tenderness, as if the gift mattered more than you’d dared hope.

She ushered you inside, and you slipped off your coat. Though it hadn’t snowed that day, a crisp chill still lingered in Velaris’s winter air, and the townhouse’s warmth wrapped around you like a soft cloak. Feyre guided you through a well-lit hallway into the living room, where conversation and laughter wove a gentle tapestry over the hush of the evening.

Rhysand rose from an armchair near the hearth to greet you, his violet eyes reflecting the lamplight. “Welcome,” he said, voice smooth and sincere. “Please, make yourself at home. You’ve already met Cassian and Azriel, but allow me to introduce the rest.”

Your gaze swept over the room. Cassian stood near the mantel, a glass of wine in hand, and as you glanced at him, he offered a lazy grin. Azriel was positioned a bit to the side, one arm resting along the back of a sofa. His bandages were gone, leaving faint lines of healing scars hidden beneath well-tailored clothing. He inclined his head softly when your eyes met, acknowledging your presence without fuss.

Seated near Azriel was a stunning blonde female—radiant and poised. Her beauty caught your attention immediately. Feyre noticed your look and added with a smile, “This is Mor—Morrigan. She’s family.”

Mor raised her glass in greeting, her hazel eyes warm with easy camaraderie. “Nice to finally meet you,” she said, voice touched with a hint of laughter, as if you’d arrived just in time for something pleasant.

Another figure caught your eye next: a smaller female, perched on the arm of a chair. Her silver eyes were sharp, ancient somehow, set into a refined face and framed by dark hair. This, you guessed, must be Amren. Your heart gave a small jolt of surprise—she was the one you’d heard described as powerful and formidable, yet she merely gave you a faint nod, assessing and cool, but not impolite.

Near Cassian stood another woman, her posture elegant, her features bearing a clear familial resemblance to Feyre. This must be Nesta—Feyre’s sister, the one who you’d heard was mated to Cassian. Her gaze was direct, but not hostile; perhaps curious, as if measuring who you were and why you’d been invited into their circle. You offered her a respectful smile, and she inclined her head in a subtle, regal manner.

The atmosphere was cordial, tinted with curiosity and acceptance. The fire crackled softly behind you, the scent of rich food and spices drifting in from another room. Feyre gestured to a free chair and you sat, the others resuming their conversations, weaving you naturally into their midst.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Azriel shift slightly, watching the interplay of introductions. Morrigan turned to say something to him, drawing his attention away and giving you a moment to breathe, to take in that you were truly here, part of this intimate gathering.

“Dinner will be ready soon,” Feyre said, settling beside Rhysand, who’d gently clasped her hand. “Until then, relax. We’ve all been looking forward to getting to know you better.”

With those words and the warmth in the room, you felt some of your lingering tension melt away. You were among allies, in a house so beautifully tended, with plants climbing the windows and laughter in the air. It was easy, in that moment, to let yourself belong just a little more to this court you were slowly making home.

As you settled into a free chair near the hearth, the soft hum of conversation enveloped you. The group arranged themselves in a loose circle of armchairs and sofas, each face illuminated by the gentle firelight and the glow of simple lanterns placed around the room. Feyre had taken a seat beside Rhysand, her hand resting comfortably on his arm, while Cassian lounged near Nesta and Azriel, who remained quietly attentive. Mor perched gracefully on a low ottoman, crossing her long legs with casual elegance, and Amren claimed a small armchair as if it were a throne, her silver eyes keen but not hostile.

Feyre, ever the thoughtful hostess, spoke first. “You’ve just returned from Illyria, haven’t you?” Her voice was warm, genuine curiosity shining through. “Cassian told us a bit about your work there. How did it go?”

You drew a steady breath, aware of more eyes turning your way. “It was… challenging,” you admitted with a half-smile. “The healers were skilled but set in their ways. I managed to introduce a few new techniques. Some were skeptical, but I think a few caught on.”

Cassian gave a snort from his spot by the mantel. “Some of them were more than skeptical. Let’s say they were resistant until they saw the results.” His grin flashed, clearly proud of how you’d handled the situation.

Mor tilted her head, golden curls slipping over one shoulder. “Resistance is standard there,” she said, amused. “I’m impressed you made progress so quickly. Usually, it takes a century or two to change an Illyrian’s mind about anything.”

A ripple of light laughter flowed through the room. Even Nesta’s lips curved slightly, though her gaze remained measured. “They can be stubborn,” Nesta agreed quietly. “But if you got them to listen, you’ve accomplished a minor miracle.”

Azriel’s gaze flicked to you then, calm and thoughtful. “Any particular technique you introduced that might stand out for them?” he asked softly, voice barely above the crackle of the fire. There was interest, maybe respect, underlying the question.

You smoothed a hand over your knee, considering. “I combined some Dawn Court infusion methods with local herbs to create salves that heal burns and cuts faster. Also taught them how to more efficiently close a wound using layered bandaging, so it breathes and doesn’t trap infection.” Your shoulders relaxed as you spoke, talking shop easing the tension in your chest. “It’s subtle changes that matter over time.”

Rhysand inclined his head. “Subtle changes often pave the way for greater shifts. Even if they don’t appreciate it now, they’ll notice the difference when their warriors recover more swiftly.”

Amren’s silver eyes narrowed with interest. “You sound like someone who doesn’t fear digging into traditions,” she commented. “I suppose traveling the continents taught you that?”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Exactly,” you said. “Every place I visited had a different approach to healing. By the time I returned, I carried a blend of knowledge. Challenging ingrained habits is never easy, but I believe if we show results, people adapt.”

As the conversation in the living room flowed around you, your attention drifted to Azriel, who’d been listening quietly while the others exchanged stories. Under the soft glow of the lamps, he seemed more at ease than the last time you’d seen him—no bandages, no pained tension in his posture. But you knew better than to assume all was perfect.

Leaning forward slightly, you caught his eye. “Azriel,” you began, your voice low enough that the others, caught up in their chatter, wouldn’t be distracted. “How are your injuries feeling now?”

He blinked, as if brought out of private thoughts. The edge of his mouth curved in a faint but genuine smile. “Much better,” he replied softly, voice smooth and controlled. “Your treatments worked wonders.”

A small surge of satisfaction warmed you. “I’m glad. I worried about scarring, especially on the wings, but it seems my methods held.”

Azriel inclined his head, shadows shifting imperceptibly at his shoulders. “They did. I owe you more gratitude than I can put into words.”

You waved a hand dismissively, though not unkindly. “No need for grand thanks. It’s what I do.” After a brief moment, you continued, “If you find yourself running low on ointment or salve—anything for lingering aches—you’re welcome to stop by the clinic. I’ll make sure you have what you need.”

His eyes flickered slightly, a hint of something unreadable passing there. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, voice still gentle. “Though I think it’s my turn to follow the rules this time. I won’t risk mixing anything that’s not from your hands.”

A quiet huff of amusement escaped you. “Good,” you said, pleased to note even the faintest humor there. “I’d prefer no more surprise remedies.”

He almost smiled fully at that, and you found yourself relieved—relieved that he’d healed, relieved that you could speak amicably, and relieved that, even amidst lingering complexities, you could offer him help without awkwardness.

Rhysand leaned forward slightly, his attention shifting fully to you. “Your skill with Illyrian wings is… notable,” he said, voice calm and curious. “It’s not often we see someone outside these mountains who can treat wing injuries with such precision. Where did you learn that?”

You swallowed, noticing how everyone’s gaze had angled your way. Azriel’s dark eyes were steady, Cassian’s brows lifted with mild interest, and Mor sipped her wine, listening quietly. “I owe much to Madja,” you said with a small shrug, trying to sound offhanded. “In my youth, under her tutelage, I spent time observing healings of various kinds. When I traveled to the Dawn Court, I worked extensively with peregryns. Between the two experiences, I pieced together techniques that transfer well.”

Rhysand nodded thoughtfully, and you sensed approval rather than suspicion. Feyre offered a gentle smile, as if pleased to understand more about your background. Azriel only gave the faintest tilt of his head, acknowledging your explanation.

Before anyone could delve deeper, the door opened softly, and you all turned. Elain stepped into the room, cradling a small bundle in her arms. The atmosphere shifted; the hush that followed her appearance was softer, lighter. She carried a baby—a tiny figure swaddled in soft linens. At the sight of you, Elain’s eyes went wide, a brief flicker of something like panic crossing her face. She managed a stiff, silent nod in your direction, acknowledging your presence.

She crossed the floor and carefully handed the baby to Feyre before moving to sit next to Azriel. The subtle tension that flared in the air didn’t go unnoticed by you. Seeing her choose a seat near Azriel struck a chord, stirring a quiet ache in your chest. The memory of misunderstandings and the complexities of their relationship hovered in your mind.

Feyre, noticing the moment, turned toward you with a warm, bright smile and the infant cradled securely in her arms. “This is Nyx,” she said softly, pride and love coloring every syllable. She stepped closer, letting you see the baby’s tiny, delicate features, the soft tufts of dark hair. “Our son.”

Your heart softened at the sight, and you drew a careful breath. “He’s beautiful,” you murmured, the tension easing slightly at the simple purity of this introduction. “Congratulations.”

Feyre’s eyes sparkled. “Thank you,” she said, rocking Nyx gently. After a moment, she glanced toward Elain and then back to you. “I should also introduce you to my sister, Elain. But I believe you’ve already met?”

Your eyes darted to Elain, who offered another small, tense smile. “Yes,” you confirmed quietly. “We’ve met.” The memory of the morning with Azriel’s injury still flickered in the back of your mind. Elain’s panic that day, her attempt to help gone wrong.

The baby cooed softly, wriggling a tiny arm free from the swaddle, and Feyre adjusted him tenderly. The simple, gentle act redirected your focus to something simpler and kinder. In that moment, held in Feyre’s arms, Nyx represented a softness and hope that contrasted sharply against the intricate bonds and tensions that wove this inner circle together.

You lifted your gaze, meeting Elain’s eyes briefly. She looked away, cheeks coloring faintly, before focusing on Azriel and the room’s gentle chatter. A hush of understanding passed—whatever had happened before still lingered, unspoken and unresolved, but for tonight, perhaps it could remain beneath the surface, overshadowed by the presence of family and the simple joy of a new life in their midst.

You blinked, noting the tiny, budding wings peeking out from Nyx’s swaddle. It took a moment for the sight to register—Feyre and Rhysand’s child had wings. The world narrowed briefly to that small detail, a realization that sent a pulse of concern through your chest. Memories stirred of the quiet horrors you’d learned about: how some winged births could end tragically if the mother’s body wasn’t prepared.

“Oh,” you said softly, voice hushed. “He has wings.” The words escaped before you could smooth your tone. You turned your gaze to Feyre, eyes wide with a hint of shock. “Are—are you all right?” you asked, concern lacing your voice. You knew how risky such births could be, how many mothers—non-winged mothers—lost their lives or their children. The knowledge spilled out in your startled tone, too raw and honest.

As soon as the question left your lips, you caught yourself. This was personal, deeply so, and it might not be your place to ask. A flush warmed your cheeks, and you cleared your throat softly. “I’m sorry,” you murmured quickly, lowering your eyes. “That was intrusive. I didn’t mean—”

Feyre’s smile was gentle, understanding. She shifted Nyx slightly, rocking him in a way that spoke of deep maternal comfort. “It’s all right,” she said quietly, voice kind and steady. “I know it can be dangerous. It was. But I’m fine now—truly.”

She exhaled softly, sharing a glance with Rhysand who offered a reassuring nod. “We had a lot of support, the best healers, and… let’s just say there were extraordinary circumstances that helped.” Feyre’s tone carried quiet resilience, as if acknowledging a trial endured and overcome.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Relief and admiration washed over you. “I’m glad,” you said simply, heartfelt. The image of the tiny, safe baby cradled in Feyre’s arms, half winged and wholly loved, took the sting out of your earlier alarm.

Nyx stirred, letting out a small, contented noise, as if confirming that all was indeed well. And so, in that moment, you allowed yourself to trust in their strength and the healing they had found—together, in this extraordinary court.

The dining table was set with care and elegance, an array of dishes spread like a tapestry of flavors and colors. Feyre had returned after settling Nyx down for the night, and now she sat beside Rhysand, her eyes brighter, freer, as though a weight had lifted from her shoulders. You were seated between Amren and Mor, with Azriel directly across from you. The air hummed with conversation, the gentle clink of silverware, and the faint glow of faelight sconces casting a warm gleam over crystal and china.

The food was beyond anything you’d tasted in recent memory—roasted vegetables drizzled with spiced oils, tender meats seasoned to perfection, a fresh salad of night-blooming flowers and herbs that tasted of moonlit gardens. Between bites, you couldn’t help small hums of appreciation. Mor grinned at your delighted expression, whispering that Feyre and Rhys knew how to choose their cooks wisely. Amren, on your left, merely arched an eyebrow, as if such quality was the norm in this household.

Across the table, Rhysand and Feyre spoke quietly with Azriel about the latest developments with Koshiev’s faction. They didn’t hide the topic, but neither did they elaborate on grim details unnecessarily. Still, the tension was palpable.

Cassian, seated beside Nesta, seemed to pick up on the unease radiating from her. He leaned closer, murmuring something low that drew a reluctant smirk from her lips—a rare crack in her otherwise steely demeanor.

The conversation shifted, soft murmurs filling the dining room as everyone seemed to settle into their own thoughts. But your gaze lingered, drawn to the quiet interactions between Azriel and Elain.

They weren’t doing anything outright inappropriate, of course. Yet the way Azriel leaned slightly toward her, his shadows curling faintly around her seat as though they couldn’t help themselves—it was subtle, but unmistakable. And Elain, for all her delicate, quiet nature, didn’t seem to shy away from him. If anything, the small glances she cast in his direction, the way her hand lingered near his on the table, spoke volumes.

Something was going on between those two. That much you were sure of.

But didn’t she have a mate?

The thought gnawed at you. From what you’d learned during your short time with this group, the bond between mates was supposed to be unbreakable, undeniable. A rare gift—or curse, depending on how one saw it. Yet here was Elain, sitting close to Azriel, her mate nowhere to be found.

You couldn’t help but recall the low, tense conversation you’d overheard between Rhysand and Azriel days ago. Their voices had been hushed, but you’d caught enough to piece together fragments. It had been about Elain, about Azriel’s feelings for her—and about how complicated the whole situation was.

Even tonight, the tension was palpable. Rhysand and Feyre avoided looking too long in Azriel and Elain’s direction, as if their mere proximity might ignite something. Cassian’s joviality had dimmed slightly, and even Mor seemed unusually reserved.

You shifted in your seat, the unease settling in your chest like a stone. Whatever was unfolding here felt like a precarious balancing act, one wrong move away from shattering entirely.

It wasn’t jealousy, you told yourself firmly—because at the end of the day, you barely knew him. Whatever flicker of connection you’d felt when you first crossed paths with Azriel had been just that: a flicker.

Still, you couldn’t entirely ignore the truth you’d kept to yourself. That he was your mate.

You hadn’t planned to speak of it, not now, perhaps not ever. What would be the point? He didn’t seem to know, and you weren’t about to disrupt the fragile balance of this group—or his life—by bringing it up.

But watching him now, seeing the way his gaze softened for Elain, the way his shadows seemed drawn to her as if they couldn’t help themselves... it unsettled you.

You reached for your glass of wine, your fingers tightening slightly around the stem. It wasn’t your place to interfere, nor did you want to. And yet, the sight stirred something uncomfortable in you—an ache you couldn’t quite place, an unease that whispered of things better left buried.

For now, you resolved, you would tread carefully. Whatever this was, it wasn’t your story to tell.

As the conversation ebbed and flowed, you caught snippets of Mor and Feyre discussing the upcoming Solstice celebrations. Their voices carried a mix of excitement and warmth, and even those not directly involved in the planning seemed to lean in slightly, drawn by the festive air.

“Everything’s nearly set,” Mor said with a grin, her golden eyes glimmering. “But I still think we need more lights. You can never have too many.”

Feyre laughed softly, shaking her head. “We’re already bordering on blinding half the Sidra with what we’ve got planned.”

“Exactly,” Mor countered. “Bordering. Not quite there yet.”

The exchange drew a small chuckle from the others, and soon the table was animated with chatter about the Solstice—decorations, food, gifts, the music for the evening. You found yourself listening quietly, a faint smile on your lips as their excitement filled the room.

Then Cassian turned to you, curiosity lighting his hazel eyes. “What about you, Y/N? What are you planning for the Solstice?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Working,” you said simply, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

Cassian stared at you, his expression shifting from surprised to faintly unimpressed. “You’re working?” he repeated, as though the concept was completely foreign to him.

You shrugged, taking a sip of your wine. “I gave the night and the day after to the other healers,” you explained matter-of-factly. “They have families to spend it with.”

His blunt stare didn’t waver. “And you don’t?”

The question hung in the air for a beat too long. You didn’t flinch, though. Instead, you gave him a small, wry smile. “Not in the traditional sense,” you replied. “I’ve spent most of my life on the road. Holidays are just... nights like any other to me.”

Mor frowned slightly, her lips parting as though she wanted to say something, but Feyre beat her to it. “You could spend it with us,” she offered warmly, her eyes soft and kind. “If you’re free after your shift, of course.”

You hesitated, glancing around the table at the faces watching you. “That’s kind of you,” you said after a moment, your voice quieter now. “I’ll see how the night goes, but I wouldn’t count on me. Those nights tend to be pretty busy.”

Cassian still didn’t look entirely pleased, but he let the topic drop, turning to Azriel to mutter something under his breath. Across from you, Feyre and Mor resumed their discussion about the preparations, but you noticed the glances they shot your way from time to time.

The Solstice was supposed to be a time of joy, of togetherness. And yet, for you, it had always been a reminder of the distances you’d kept—between yourself and others, between your past and your present. Maybe this year would be different. But you weren’t ready to hope for that just yet.

Nesta, her tone gentle yet curious, asked, “Don’t you have family here in Velaris? Since it’s where you’re from?”

Cassian’s head turned sharply to her, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. He looked like he was about to respond, but you stopped him with a soft smile, silently telling him it was okay.

“It’s fine,” you replied, your voice steady but quieter now, the words laced with a faint melancholy. “My parents passed away when I was still a child. And... it wasn’t exactly a union their families approved of. My father was a High Fae, and my mother was Illyrian.”

The table fell silent, the weight of your admission settling over the group.

Feyre’s expression softened, her brows knitting together as if piecing together what your childhood must have been like. Even Amren’s usually sharp gaze seemed to flicker with a faint glimmer of understanding.

Rhysand leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table, his voice low and thoughtful. “A High Fae and an Illyrian,” he mused, his violet eyes locking onto yours with a knowing look. “That couldn’t have been easy for them—or for you.”

You nodded, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. “It wasn’t. My mother’s family saw her as a traitor for leaving the war-camps. And my father’s family... well, let’s just say they weren’t thrilled about him choosing someone they considered beneath him. They tried to make it work, but the rejection on both sides was... hard.”

Rhysand’s lips curved into a faint, understanding smile tinged with something more—perhaps a trace of his own memories. “My parents were mates,” he said softly. “But even that bond didn’t shield my mother from what she endured because she was Illyrian. My father’s court viewed her as an outsider, no matter that she was his equal in every way.”

You glanced at him, surprised by his willingness to share the parallel. A small, genuine smile tugged at your lips. “Then I suppose you understand better than most.”

He inclined his head. “More than you might think. My mother bore the burdens of being Illyrian with grace, but I saw the way it chipped away at her. The way others refused to see her worth simply because of where she came from.”

The room was quiet for a beat longer, the group absorbing the weight of your shared experiences.

“Did they stay in Velaris?” Nesta asked gently, her voice curious but kind.

“They tried,” you said, your voice softening even more. “Velaris was my mother’s dream. She wanted a place where their love could thrive without the judgment of others. But it wasn’t that simple. My father’s family refused to acknowledge me, and my mother’s kin wanted nothing to do with either of us. They both passed when I was young, so... it’s just been me for a long time.”

Cassian shifted, his hand tightening briefly around his glass. He didn’t say anything, but the tension in his body told you all you needed to know—he hated the thought of you enduring that kind of isolation.

“I’m sorry,” Feyre said quietly, her voice warm with empathy.

You offered her a small smile, the sting of the memory softened by time. “It’s all right. I’ve built my life on my own terms since then. And Velaris... it’s still home.”

Rhysand nodded, his gaze steady. “Velaris is the City of Starlight. But it’s also a sanctuary for those who need it. And no matter what, you’ll always have a place here.”

The sincerity in his words caught you off guard, and for a moment, all you could do was nod, your chest tightening with a mix of gratitude and something you couldn’t quite name.

The laughter faded into a comfortable hum, and Rhysand glanced at you again, his tone turning slightly more serious. “Speaking of important matters, are the preparations for your trip to the Dawn Court coming along?”

You nodded, resting your hands on the edge of the table. “It’s going well,” you said. “I’m not rushing, though. The meeting isn’t for a few weeks, so there’s time to finalize everything.”

Azriel, who had been quietly observing, narrowed his eyes slightly. “What meeting?”

You met his gaze evenly. “The head healers of all the courts are gathering to discuss the rising tensions in the world. It’s not something we do often—every ten or twenty years, if that. But given everything that’s been happening lately, it was decided that now’s the time to meet.”

Feyre leaned forward, her brows knitting together in curiosity. “Even though you’ve only recently taken over from Madja, isn’t that going to be... challenging for you?”

Her question was genuine, not unkind, and you offered her a soft smile. “Not as much as you might think,” you replied. “I already know all of them. Either they trained me, or I’ve trained them at some point.”

Cassian let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “Well, look at you. The prodigy of Prythian’s healers.”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing, though the corners of your mouth twitched in amusement. “Hardly. It’s more about connections and trust. It’s easier to work with people when you’ve already built a rapport.”

“True enough,” Rhysand said, his voice thoughtful. “But there’s still a lot of weight in those meetings. Decisions made there could affect countless lives.”

You nodded, meeting his gaze. “I’m aware. That’s why it’s important we all come together now. We have to be prepared for what might come next, no matter where it starts.”

Cassian broke the tension with a grin. “Still betting it’ll be less of a disaster than a High Lords’ meeting?”

Laughter rippled around the table again, and you shrugged with a playful smirk. “I’d say so. We’re less inclined to argue over who’s the most powerful and more focused on practical solutions.”

“Speak for yourself,” Amren muttered dryly. “I’d argue just for fun.”

The table erupted into laughter, the light-heartedness returning as the conversation shifted to lighter topics once more.

Dinner naturally came to an end, and the group shifted to the living room. The atmosphere turned even more relaxed as the evening stretched on. Cups of tea were passed around for some, while others nursed glasses of wine or stronger spirits. The crackle of the fire in the hearth added a cozy backdrop to the low hum of conversation and occasional laughter.

You found yourself sinking into a plush armchair, your fingers wrapped around a warm mug of tea. The soft glow of the firelight played across the room, highlighting the easy camaraderie between everyone. This wasn’t just a group of warriors and leaders—they were a family. Even in their teasing, you could sense the unshakable bonds that connected them, forged by shared history and unwavering loyalty.

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to relax, taking in the sight of them. Feyre and Rhysand were curled up together on a loveseat, Cassian sprawled across a large sofa with Mor perched at the other end, her laughter ringing out as he recounted some likely exaggerated tale. Nesta sat nearby, a book in hand, though her attention occasionally drifted to the conversation.

But as your gaze wandered, you noticed something—or rather, someone—missing. Neither Elain nor Azriel was present. The realization sent a small, unwanted pang through your chest, one you quickly buried. Whatever their reasons for leaving, it wasn’t your concern. It couldn’t be.

When your tea was finished, you placed the empty cup delicately on the table before rising to your feet. “Thank you for the lovely evening,” you said, your voice soft but sincere. “But I should head back. There’s still some work I need to wrap up before the night’s over.”

Cassian glanced up from his drink, his grin playful as always. “You’re leaving already? And here I thought Azriel was the workaholic around here, but you might actually be worse.”

His words, though light-hearted, made something twist in your stomach. You tried to brush it off, but then he glanced around the room and added, “Speaking of which... where is Az? Slacking off for once?”

“Leave it, Cassian,” Rhysand interjected smoothly. His voice was calm, but the sharpness in his violet gaze betrayed a flicker of curiosity—or perhaps understanding—as his eyes darted to you. He didn’t press the issue, but the weight of his brief look lingered all the same.

Feyre stood and approached you, her steps fluid and graceful. She wrapped you in a warm hug, her arms firm but gentle. “Thank you for coming,” she said softly. “It was nice having you here. We’ll have to do this again soon.”

You returned the embrace, her kindness settling some of the unease lingering in your chest. “I’d like that,” you replied sincerely, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Cassian’s voice broke through the moment as Feyre stepped back. “You know, if you’re working this late, you might actually give Az a run for his money,” he teased. Then, with a mock thoughtful look, he added, “Though I guess he’s not here to defend his title. Convenient.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Maybe he’s finally taking a well-deserved break,” you said, keeping your tone light as you glanced toward the door.

Rhysand’s gaze followed yours, but he said nothing. The slight quirk of his lips suggested he’d noticed something, but whatever it was, he chose to keep it to himself—for now.

With a final round of goodnights, you stepped out into the cool night air. They were a family, and while you didn’t quite feel like part of it yet, the warmth they’d shown you was undeniable.

As you walked through the quiet streets of Velaris, the crisp night air nipping at your skin, your gaze lifted instinctively to the sky. The stars above were breathtaking—countless pinpricks of light scattered across an endless expanse of velvet black. They seemed so serene, so untouched by the weight of the world below. For a moment, you let yourself be lost in their beauty, your steps slowing as if the universe itself was urging you to pause.

You didn’t notice the tears until a cold droplet slid down your cheek, and then another. Startled, you reached up to brush your fingers against your face, finding your skin wet. Confusion prickled at the edges of your thoughts as you stared at the small drops clinging to your fingertips. You weren’t sad. At least, you didn’t think you were. The evening had been lovely—warm and full of laughter. Yet here you were, crying under the stars.

A hollow ache settled in your chest as you continued walking, the faint echo of your footsteps the only sound in the stillness. You barely knew Azriel. That thought circled your mind like an unrelenting shadow. For all the moments you’d spent stealing glances at him, observing the way he carried himself with quiet strength and grace, there was still so much you didn’t know. So much you might never know.

And then there was the bond. The invisible thread you could feel humming at the edge of your awareness, a constant reminder of something greater, something unasked for. You’d kept it to yourself, not because of secrecy, but because the mere thought of saying it aloud made your stomach twist with apprehension. It wasn’t fair—not to him, not to you.

Forcing a bond on him, on anyone, was the last thing you wanted. Azriel deserved the freedom to choose, the freedom to love without the weight of a bond dictating his path. But even as you told yourself that, a cruel voice in your mind whispered that the bond wasn’t something he would celebrate—not with you as his mate.

What did you have to offer him? Compared to Elain’s gentle beauty and kindness, you felt like a storm—chaotic and unyielding. You’d spent centuries honing your skills, fighting battles, making sacrifices. Vulnerability wasn’t something you knew how to share.

A sharp breath escaped you, your hands curling into fists as your pace quickened. The tears came faster now, silent but persistent, blurring the cobblestones underfoot. It wasn’t sadness, you told yourself again. It was confusion, frustration, maybe even fear.

You weren’t sure when the walls you’d built around yourself had started to crack, but tonight, surrounded by the warmth of the Inner Circle, you’d felt something shift. It wasn’t just about Azriel. It was about family, connection, belonging—things you’d never let yourself hope for, let alone believe you could have.

But as much as you’d enjoyed the night, as much as you’d appreciated their kindness, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being an outsider looking in. They cared for each other deeply, their bonds unbreakable. And you? You were just passing through, a healer with a tangled past and an uncertain future.

The stars blurred as fresh tears welled up, and you stopped in your tracks, tilting your head back to let the cool night air soothe your burning cheeks. You didn’t know what you were crying for—what you were mourning. Maybe it was for the family you’d lost long ago, or the life you might have had if things had been different. Maybe it was for the bond you hadn’t asked for but couldn’t ignore.

Or maybe, it was for the fragile hope buried deep within you—the hope that one day, you might find a place where you truly belonged.

——

Azriel’s POV

Azriel exhaled a quiet breath as he stepped into the crisp night air, the faint sounds of the dinner fading behind him. The garden of the townhouse was peaceful, blanketed in a soft glow from the moon above. Elain walked beside him, her delicate frame tucked into a thick coat, her hands gripping the fabric tightly against the chill.

The silence stretched between them, comfortable at first. But as they wandered further down the winding paths, Elain drew closer, her arm brushing his. He glanced at her briefly, noticing the faint pink on her cheeks—not from the cold, but something else.

It was when they reached the edge of the garden, where the view of Velaris spread wide and glittering below, that she finally spoke.

"Azriel," she said softly, her voice hesitant.

He turned to face her, noting the awkward expression on her face, the way her hands twisted nervously in front of her. “What is it?” he asked, his tone calm, though a flicker of concern stirred in his chest.

Elain hesitated, her gaze darting away before meeting his again. “Are you sure...we can trust Y/N?”

Azriel blinked, her question catching him off guard. Of all the things he’d anticipated her saying, this hadn’t been one of them. “Why wouldn’t we?” he asked, frowning slightly.

Elain’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s just...the way she talks, the way she carries herself. There’s something...off about her.”

Azriel tilted his head, studying her closely. He hadn’t missed Y/N’s sharp tongue during the meeting at the House of Wind, but her words had been purposeful, her actions deliberate. If Elain was referring to that, it didn’t make sense for her to hold it against Y/N.

“She was doing her job,” Azriel said carefully, keeping his tone neutral. “If this is about what happened at the House of Wind—”

“It’s not just that,” Elain interrupted, her voice rising slightly before softening again. She looked at him with wide, almost pleading eyes. “You don’t realize the way she spoke to me. The way she...looked at me. It was—” She broke off, shaking her head.

Azriel’s frown deepened. He couldn’t recall Y/N being anything but professional, but Elain’s tone suggested she felt otherwise. Still, he wasn’t one to jump to conclusions without evidence.

“Elain,” he said gently, “what exactly are you saying? Is there something specific that’s made you doubt her?”

She hesitated again, her gaze dropping to the ground. Then, after a moment, she said, “I just...feel like she’s hiding something. A lot of things. And it’s not just her past—it’s her power, Azriel. It’s unsettling. What if she’s here for something else? What if she’s working for Koschei?To attack us from the inside?”

Her voice grew more frantic as she spoke, her words tumbling over one another in a rush of worry.

Azriel’s jaw tightened, though he kept his expression calm. He reached out, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Elain,” he said firmly, his voice a quiet anchor. “You’re overthinking this.”

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, uncertainty flickering there.

“She’s not here to harm anyone,” Azriel continued. “If she were, we would’ve seen signs by now. And even if there were any truth to your fears, I’m keeping a close eye on her.”

Elain’s lips parted slightly, but she didn’t interrupt as he added, “Nothing bad will happen while I’m around. I won’t allow it.”

For a moment, Elain simply looked at him, her expression softening at his words. She nodded slowly, though the tension in her shoulders didn’t completely ease.

“I trust you, Azriel,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel gave her a faint nod, his gaze steady. But as they turned to head back toward the townhouse, a shadow of doubt lingered in his mind—not about Y/N, but about the seeds of mistrust Elain had tried to plant.

Elain bid Azriel a soft goodnight, her steps retreating up the stairs until they faded entirely. Azriel lingered in the quiet of the garden for a moment longer, the chill of the night seeping into his skin as he let his mind turn over her words. Doubt, no matter how unwarranted, was a dangerous thing to sow.

Pushing the thoughts aside, he made his way back to the living room. Feyre, Mor, and Nesta were nowhere to be seen, their laughter and conversations long gone. Only Rhysand and Cassian remained, seated comfortably with drinks in hand.

“There he is,” Cassian said with a smirk, raising his glass. “Thought you’d vanished into the shadows for good this time.”

Azriel ignored the jab, heading straight for the sideboard. He poured himself a generous glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the firelight, and crossed the room to join them. He lowered himself into one of the armchairs, cradling the glass in his hand before taking a long sip.

“You missed the part where we solved all the world’s problems,” Cassian quipped, but there was a lightness to his tone.

Azriel shot him a look but didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he turned to Rhysand, his expression thoughtful. “Did you know about Y/N being half Illyrian and half High Fae?”

Rhysand raised a brow, leaning back in his seat. “Madja mentioned it to me when I first spoke with her about Y/N, but beyond that, no. Y/N hasn’t shared much about her personal life—at least not with me.”

Azriel frowned slightly, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “She’s been...secretive.”

“That’s not surprising,” Rhysand said, his voice calm. “She’s lived a long life, Azriel. People who’ve endured as much as she likely has aren’t quick to share their scars.”

Cassian shrugged, setting his empty glass on the table with a faint clink. “It’s not uncommon, though, is it? Half Illyrians without wings? The camps might not like to talk about it, but it happens more often than they’d admit.”

Azriel’s shadows curled faintly around his shoulders, his gaze distant. “It’s not just that. She’s...different. There’s a weight to her that’s hard to ignore.”

Rhysand regarded him carefully, his violet eyes sharp. “What are you trying to say, Az?”

Azriel hesitated, the words forming slowly. “She doesn’t seem like someone who’s just here to replace Madja or take up the work of healing. There’s more to her, something she’s not saying.”

Rhysand nodded thoughtfully. “She’s a healer, yes, but she’s also a warrior. And from what I’ve gathered, she’s someone who’s fiercely loyal to those she chooses to protect. That doesn’t mean she owes us every detail of her life.”

Cassian leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “It’s not like we’ve shared all our dirty laundry with her either. Hell, Az, you’ve been watching her like a hawk since she got here, and she hasn’t so much as flinched. If she were hiding something dangerous, don’t you think she’d have slipped up by now?”

Azriel didn’t respond immediately, his shadows whispering quietly in his ears. He took another sip of whiskey, letting the burn settle in his throat.

“I’m not saying she’s a threat,” he said finally. “But there’s something...unsettling about not knowing where she stands. Especially now, with everything happening in Prythian.”

Rhysand sighed, his expression softening. “You’re not wrong to be cautious, Az. But until she gives us a reason to doubt her, we owe her the benefit of the doubt. She’s earned that much through her work alone.”

“Relax, brother,” Cassian said with a chuckle. “Not everyone is out to stab us in the back. Besides, if she wanted to, she’s had plenty of chances.”

The conversation lulled, the crackling of the fire filling the silence. Azriel leaned back in his chair, the whiskey warming him from the inside out. Despite Cassian’s teasing and Rhysand’s reassurances, the unease in his chest didn’t fully fade.

He’d keep watching. Just in case.

Rhysand shifted in his seat, his sharp gaze settling on Azriel. His expression was calm, but there was a note of seriousness in his voice as he spoke. “Maybe it’s time for you to look elsewhere, brother. To seek someone who could truly bring you peace.”

Azriel sighed heavily, the sound filled with equal parts exhaustion and frustration. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, staring into it as if the whiskey held answers he couldn’t find.

Cassian, never one to miss an opportunity, smirked. “You know, Az, Rhys might actually have a point for once. The world won’t end if you let yourself—”

Azriel’s sharp glare cut him off, but it was Rhysand who pressed on, his tone gentle but firm. “Listen, brother, I’m not here to tell you how to live your life or whom to care for. But Lucien is coming back to Velaris for the Solstice, and I don’t want you to—”

Azriel’s head snapped up, and his voice was cold and clipped as he interrupted. “You didn’t have to invite him.”

Rhysand’s brows rose slightly, but his voice remained steady. “He is her mate, Azriel. Whether we like it or not, that bond exists. Ignoring it won’t make it disappear.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, his shadows curling more protectively around him. “I’m well aware of that, Rhys. But you didn’t need to bring him here. Solstice is for family.”

Cassian leaned forward slightly, holding up a hand as if to diffuse the tension. “Alright, let’s all take a deep breath. It’s been a long day, and we don’t need to—”

“I don’t need your advice,” Azriel snapped, cutting him off as well. His voice was calm but laced with a quiet, simmering anger. He stood, setting his glass down with more force than necessary. “I’m grown enough to make my own decisions, and I don’t need either of you meddling in my personal life.”

Rhysand’s violet eyes followed Azriel carefully, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them. But he didn’t press further, simply nodding once.

Cassian leaned back in his chair, muttering under his breath, “Well, that went well.”

Azriel didn’t respond, his shadows coiling around him as he turned and left the room. He felt their eyes on him as he walked away, but he didn’t look back.

As he stepped into the cool night air, the weight of their words still lingered. His chest felt tight, his thoughts a tangled mess of anger, guilt, and something he couldn’t quite name. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore. Or maybe he did, and that was the problem.

----

don't hesitate to comment if you want to be added to the tag list ;)))

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#azriel fic #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #acotar fanart #acotar #rhysand #azriel acotar #cassian #a court of thorns and roses #acotar x y/n #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #elain #feyre

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x--sinner--x · 14 hours ago

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I love the concept of coincidental rape. Like just imagine being neighbours, but we found each other on a dating app. We talk and flirt for days, and eventually we reach the point of exchanging selfies and other spicy pictures.

And then one day I noticed something. In one of the pics you sent me, I could see my own house in the reflection. You took one right by your window and that's how I realized it.

With this newfound information I had to act upon it. I eagerly knock on your door, and you don't disappoint as you answer the door quickly.

"Hey, we haven't really met but I am your neighbour," I introduce myself, "and this is my house behind me. Can I come in? I would like to get acquainted."

I didn't know such a bombshell was talking to me on a dating app while being my neighbour.

"Yeah, sure. Please come in." The funny part is, as I am walking into the hallway of your house, you are texting me on the dating app. "Sorry daddy, but I have a visitor. I'll talk to you later. 💋💋"

And my phone pings with the notification you just sent me. While I know the cause behind the ping, you have no idea as it's just a normal notification in your eyes.

"Thanks for letting me in. You have a gorgeous house." I pause for a moment to take in the view and proceed to talk again. "And here you go. I wanted to bring you a gift to introduce myself."

"Thank you for the compliment... and for the gift as well. What is it?" You ask curiously.

"It's a pretty rare vintage wine bottle. My dad had a wine cellar and was an avid wine collector. When I moved here, I brought some of his collections with me, and I thought you would enjoy it. Wanna drink with me?"

"Aw that's lovely. And yeah sure, we could have a drink." But little did you know, I had put in a little substance to knock you out in a matter of seconds.

We both make our way to your living room, where sofas are arranged around a small glass table with some glasses. You use a bottle opener and pour some for both of us. We take seats opposite each other and I take my glass of wine and bring it up to my mouth, but I don't drink it. I waited patiently until you took the first sip and it wasn't long before that happened.

"Do you live here alone? Seems pretty big for you." I ask you a simple question, just to break the ice until you fall unconscious.

"Well, this is my friend's house actually. She has moved abroad with her family, and I was searching for a house and she rented it to me a year back." You take another pause to take a few quick sips and then continue. "Damn, this wine really tastes good. Great choi---- huh.. what's happe--"

The wine glass shatters on the ground as you pass out on your side of the sofa. I placed my glass back on the table as I had accomplished what I was hoping for.

I carry your passed out body to your bedroom and place you down gently on the bed. I whip out my phone and take some pictures of you - for keepsake purposes.

I slowly proceed to take off your clothes and look at you in all of your glory. You look much more pretty than the pictures you keep sending me in a teasing way. I couldn't hold it in anymore and I come on top of you and mount my cock next to your entrance and start thrusting it inside you.

Your pussy feels so tight even as you are passed out. Your breasts flop up and down with each thrust and when I look up at you, you look just like a dainty little flower. People might always look at your cute and demure side of you, but what I'm seeing now is a whole another side of you.

Your glowing skin puts infectious thoughts into my brain, forcing me to act upon them. I give into my desires, violating your supple skin and leaving marks as I go. I smell the perfume on your hair and it only makes me all the more feral. Your breasts are so milky that my hands sink in with every squeeze.

I take your breasts into my mouth and suck on it like a baby and it feels so good. I was picking up the pace with which my cock was moving inside your pussy. I grab onto your hips as I thrust harder, reaching further parts of your pussy with subsequent thrusts.

I think I overestimated my own resistance to cum, because it didn't take me too long, combusting all that pent up cum straight up her womb. I pull my cock out and see some of it dripping out onto the sheets - and it made me only want to continue. I pushed my cock back in her hole - in every hole in fact, taking turns - until I unloaded my cum several times in each one of them - and watching my cum drip out of every hole was very satisfying to see.

I took some more photos of you in that state, and sent you those pictures in the dating app.

"No worries baby. Here are some souvenirs of our first encounter with each other. Thanks for the return present. It was really lovely. Hope you liked all of my presents.

- Your visitor. 💋💋💋"

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leoneliterary · 23 hours ago

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I might be in the 10% of people that decided to spare our newest chess piece but I really hope that we get to finish where we left off if he proves to be less than useful. I ALSO HOPE WE GET TO ROB HIM WHENEVER WE CAN IT’S ONLY FAIR. 100% of what I’m about to take from this man is going straight into Desma’s paycheck (I am willing to take a lot).

I’m also really grateful that you put in so many choices for the more curious MCs! I definitely want to know what’s up with the deer monster. Its eyes are glazed over and it seemed to harbor traits from multiple different animals. Was it dead/near death and then maliciously experimented on with dark magic? How was it so strong? Why was it in the forest? There were multiple calls - how many of them are there? What were they calling for? The timing was super suspicious too - it decided to show up NOW of all times? When the new king was near vicinity?

Gosh, this chapter gave so much intrigue!! You’re really such a talented writer!

P.S. I’m imagining the monster to look a bit like Banbaro from the Monster Hunter series! Except with sharper rows of teeth and a deeper hunger for flesh…

Thank you so much! I want the MC and you, the reader, to be able to start coming up with theories and ideas as to what is going on. So I am loving all of the questions you've come up with! Hopefully you'll like the answers...

I love that you called Catellus a chess piece! If I do my job right, it should feel like, depending on the type of MC you're playing, like you're assembling a team. (Or collecting people like pawns)

I looked up Banbaro and it definitely fits the vibe of what I was going for! Thank you for a useful reference!

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy what's in store for the new year!!

#interactive fiction #honor amongst thieves #if wip #game development #interactive novel #worldbuilding #hat if #mc customization

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freesia-writes · 3 days ago

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Behind the Scenes of a Writer's Mind

I noticed something tonight that I thought might be helpful to share. You [hopefully] often hear fanfic writers urging interaction and support. It may seem selfish or prideful at first glance, but there's a lot more to it. Have a seat. 😉

The best metaphor I've heard is someone who loves cooking for others. Yes, they do it because they like it, but there's a deep gratification in sharing that work and talent with others and getting to hear how much it was loved and enjoyed. Same with writing.

I asked my favorite author @dystopicjumpsuit about her works -- which had the most emotional impact, which was the tastiest smut, which is her best piece, etc -- and was delighted to hear her answers because there were elements that I hadn't known or noticed, and it made me so excited to read them again (and a few for the first time, haha). It gave a new appreciation, a neat back story, and a richer experience to the fics. (READ THE ASK/ANSWER HERE)

She turned the ask back on me, and while I hadn't expected that, I was surprised at the process as I tried to answer. I had taken a good half a year off from writing after finishing the Hunter longfic. I had poured my heart and soul into it, and when it was done posting, it was kinda... empty. Life also was fairly crazy, so this side of me kinda went away for a while. I still wanted to write. I missed being here. But there was just no inspiration or motivation, and you can't force that.

But something neat happened when DJ gave me the chance to consider my own work. I reread some oldies. I smiled at things I'd forgotten about. The questions forced me to look at the good parts, my favorite parts, the best parts that I'm most proud of.

As a writer, it's easy to forget that. You get used to writing, you get used to your style and approach and voice, and sometimes it just gets to a point of "why bother"? ESPECIALLY if there's no feedback from readers. But it was awesome to be reminded of how my writing brings me joy, and that it's a particular area of gifting but also something that's honed and developed and refined over the years.

Considering the beautiful elements of what I've been able to create breathed fresh life into me. It brought confidence where there had been indifference. It reminded me of the fun of writing and the unpredictable nature of how it all goes down. It rekindled some of that joy of bringing delight to others with my time and effort. It rejuvenated the creative part of me that loves the process as well as the product.

So WRITERS -- if you're in a pit, perhaps read some of your own stuff. Enjoy it. Read works by other authors you love and ask them about it -- it'll likely remind you of some experiences of your own. But also, if the motivation isn't there, don't sweat it. Enjoy what you can and, if the fickle mistress of inspiration returns, bang that thang til fics fall out. (I'll see myself out, thank you.)

And READERS -- you enjoy what we create, yeah? Do you know that you'd likely enjoy it wayyy more if you had a lil behind-the-scenes knowledge? It truly enriches the experience all around, AND it's so encouraging to authors to be able to share not only the finished product but some of the joy of the process. So don't be afraid -- drop some asks, leave questions in reblogs, engage!!

If you've read this far (without skipping, you weasels), please consider this a free ticket for a fic request. ;) Drop one in my inbox and we shall see if the gods smile upon my mushy brain and clumsy fingers. But also, thank you for reading, and I hope that both writers and readers are encouraged to enjoy this space more fully!

FREESIA OUT 😘

#hot damn #ya girl got on a roll #too bad this didn't go toward a fic #LOL #but still worthwhile I think!#I think I just need some Crosshair d--#DISCOURSE you perverts #or something that ends in 'course'#hehehehe #please take my computer away from me

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angrycatlovesfandoms · 1 day ago

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WATCH TILL THE END OF THE

MOON!!

It was probably the best xianxia of 2023 (and one of the few that's sticked on my mind )

It tells the story of Li SuSu, a female cultivator that gets sent back in time to avoid the destruction of the world by the Demon King, and stop him before he became well, the demon king. She gets sent to the body of one Ye Xiwu, a noble girl with a horrible personality. It's a story about love, breaking free and changing destiny, and so so good so Please!!!! Watch it!!!!

Also watch The Untamed, it's the best plot of any show I've ever watched, ever. It's campy, silly, heartbreaking and hopeful all at the same time, made with such love that you can feel it. Seriously, the actors really put their heart and soul into the performance. It's also full of plot twist and turns that you never see coming, but also make so much sense it feels like their giving you answers to question you never thought to even ask.

It begins by telling us the story of this very evil totally bad demonic cultivator wei wuxian that gets killed and revived 16 years later. We then, almost immediately, go back in time to his youth on how he met his Very Good Friend Lan Zhan and how he ended up where he was. (This is a very big simplification, but I feel if I say anything more I will start going episode by episode and spoil you the whole thing 🤣)

This show is such a heart breaking tragedy but also so so good and romantic, in the constrictions of Chinese censorship. I've rewatched it on its full 50 episode glory (they're only 40min each) for more times than I can count since my first time in 2021. I couldn't recommend it less

( beware, until ep 12/13 if has a relatively slow pace that is also very cool but! Might be slightly off putting. Trust me though, it picks up fast, they just want you to relax first before they start digging with the knives)

So who was going to tell me that xianxia was the genre (?) I didn't know I needed in my life?

I've watched Love Between Fairy and Devil and Love Game in Eastern Fantasy (almost) and I need to know what to watch next!

Please help this ignorant, white, Australian girl who is in love.

#sorry if this is too much op hahahaha i love xianxias too much

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elbiotipo · 11 months ago

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What would be the main differences between a template forest and a tropical jungle for fantasy? I guess that things like iron armor pieces would never become a thing since historically they weren't popular in other hot climates, winters without snow might be less feared but summers with big floods might be more worrisome? I guess that cuisine and farming would also be massively different although I don't know exactly how.

Out of the top of my head:

Equatorial climates are notoriously stable, since it's always the same day lenght there are no seasons, especially if you live near the ocean which estabilizes the temperature. You will get dry and wet seasons (and sometimes even hurricane seasons) depending on particular geographic conditions

Tropical/subtropical climates often have harsher seasons the farther away from the ocean they are, but never snow (that's the difference actually; temperate climates can get snow, subtropical can get frost but not snow, tropical neither). So yes, in general in a tropical or subtropical the main difference between seasons is rain, and perhaps frost which does play a role in some plants like citrics. Rainforests, of course, get it all year, subtropical forests have dry and rainy seasons. You can see a mixture of both: in my home (Northern Argentina) we do get marked winters with ocassional frost, but the main fact is that they're dry compared to summer.

ANYWAYS. Cultural stuff! Yes, one of the main differences you will find is clothing. It's difficult to make generalizations, but overall, tropical cultures just wear less, if there is armor at all. Don't get mistaken and say that it's because they don't have metallurgy, though, it's just that metal armor is indeed heavy, hot, and not much use if the opponet isn't wearing anything either. At most, you would see padded cloth armor (cotton mostly) or hide/leather at most. If you look at soldiers from, for example, Mesoamerica or Southeast Asia, you will find little armor.

Similarily, while you can go wild with noble clothing and colors, and the preferred materials are indeed cotton or silk, you will find very simple clothes among the general population. To give you an idea, here's a sample of Aztec clothes (including armor!)

Note how simple and lightweight they are, even for rulers. They are colorful too (the artist, Daniel Parada, has more pictures like this for other cultures based on historical records) but although tropical enviroments might seem to have greater access to dyes, medieval european did also have dyes, often not as vibrant as carmine though.

Farming, of course, affects cuisine. I think that instead of thinking about a "pan-tropical" farming, we could analyze this by centers of origin of crops:

From Southeast Asia we got soy, several types of beans (or Fabaceae if you wanna get technical), all citrics, mango, banana, pear, cherry,, but this pales in comparison to rice, of course. Rice defines the tropical and subtropical diet of Asia, being what wheat is to the Mediterranean. Rice cultivation is particular in that is labor extensive, much more productive by area compared to other crops (so smaller plots) and requires extensive irrigation, resulting in complex managed enviroments.

From tropical America we got manioc, squashes (all sorts of curcubita actually), beans, peppers, pineapples, papaya, so much more, but it's especifically from Mesoamerica we got corn, and from the Andes we got potatoes. Potatoes are key in cold climates. Meanwhile, the corn-beans-squash trio, that is known in North America as "three sisters" and in Latin America as "milpa" is spread all over the continent. These three kinds of plants are very adaptable to tropical and subtropical conditions, and combined are very productive.

I will admit that my knowledge about tropical Africa is less than ideal. There are native species of rice that can be found in Western Africa, Ethiopia has traditionally grown barley and sorghum (and is the home of coffee), and millet, like corn for the Americas, seem to be widespread.

As for spices, tropical areas do seem to be blessed with spices, this is true. I recommend this guy to tell you about it. Hell, I recommend his channel in general.

What IS a common theme, regardless, is that jungles are NOT pristine enviroments or wild enviroments untouched by human activity. Jungles have been managed, in overt ways (like for example, rice cultivation) or more subtle ways (planting domesticated species inside the forest) for thousands of years. This is also done by controlled burns, conscious planting, or even accidental things, like, for example, peoples settling in a place and bringing domesticated plants to that place that then grow semi-wildly.

THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING TO TALK ABOUT BECAUSE EVEN IF I STUDY THIS EXACT THING, I HAVE NO REAL DEFINITION OF IT YOU CAN SEARCH. You can find about this phenomenon of "humans managing and changing forest enviroments" by lots of terms, like agroforestry, silviculture, and so many more. The term I use is "landscape management" (no, not "landscaping") where a "landscape" is a term for an enviroment were both humans and natural factors build it (like I said, there is no thing as "pristine nature" ALL natural enviroments have been managed and modified by humans, and you can find evidence of that in tropical America, Asia, and Africa).

In fact, the reason why those enviroments seem "natural" and unchanged to Western views is precisely, because tropical cultures often use wood and adobe to build structures (if they have them at all), which don'r preserve well at all. But also, jungles are fast growing and often eat everything, remaining, interestingly, these subtle domestication and managment efforts in what once were thriving settlements.

Which doesn't mean you haven't tropical cultures to study. THERE ARE PLENTY. You got, like I said, the whole of tropical America, tropical Africa, and tropical Asia and Oceania. It is getting very difficult to me to generalize, and yet, one can see some similarities.

Since this post is general enough, I encourage you to ask more about what you want. What would you like me to focus on?

oh, and you can throw me a tip, if you want! Sorry for selling out, but I'm living under an insane libertarian president right now, so every bit helps!

#worldbuilding #sorry this is such a rant #but I hope it might be useful for you to get questions I can answer better!#biotipo worldbuilding

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always-a-slut-4-ghouls · 6 months ago

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On tumblr when you post you’re just playing Russian roulette with your post getting attention, but it’ll probably get ignored.

On Reddit any comment you make outside of some very niche community will immediately have someone downvoting you and calling you like, three different insults. Then they will wonder why you only log in every couple months. Like, it’s a very helpful website when you have a question for another community you’re in, but you’ll also get someone being immediately hostile when you make an innocuous post on a garden subreddit 😑

At least on tumblr people have to actually seek out your random ass text posts and go out of their way to start shit, and you don’t have the up and down vote system that feels like playing with my self confidence and worth issues.

Both websites are toxic part of the time (what social media isn’t?) and both are actually more useful for weird people, but holy shit does Reddit feel more aggressive about shit. Maybe it’s just the devil you know, but at least on this mess of a website half your hate will be for the most random shit and misunderstandings that people have to seek out finding if your blog is a normal size. Reddit is either posting on a dead sub or getting immediately thrown to the, well, sharks and wolves aren’t actually super aggressive towards humans under normal circumstances, so something else that could tear you apart instantly for just existing in the same space as them.

#emma posts #there’s a reason i stopped spending as much time on that site #multiple actually. but one of them is that website is like ‘rsd trigger simulator’#and tumblr is like ‘how dare you say we piss on the poor’#everyone is an idiot in both places. but one is instantly more volatile #it’s preactically on sight #other social media is mostly being used by me to post my art or talk to irl friends and family #some of those sites are wild. but not in such an instant way #provided you aren’t huge or have some internet hate stalker #my first deviantart account was wild like that. you phrase something awkwardly at the age of 13 and you suddenly have one or two 16ish year #olds stalking you and telling you to Kys and threatening your family #but that was in the old days. haven’t run into that in years #but seriously. whoever those people were. I hope you feel like shit about those past actions #especially because that 13 year old had made art and posts about her depression 😑#and irl bullying #I hope you got better. sincerely. but if not? die #jk. but still #actually. no. if you’re still telling people that sort of thing try it on yourself #i don’t have a twitter. I don’t plan on getting one. but I’ve heard that’s toxic too. but for the brief time I did try it years ago I was #just ignored by most people #I also like websites where you can share other posts with followers but that might be because one of my first socials was facebook #Facebook is still useful for local stuff. but it’s not as anonymous I guess #even on Facebook though it feels somewhat less ‘on sight’ attacking #but gods. the ‘piss poor reading comprehension’ website is so much more comfortable than the ‘dog piled for asking about a plant’ website #and the ‘just block them’ culture is so useful #i make a post on Reddit like ‘anyone know of houseplants that are like this?’ and have some dude downvote me and respond like #‘are we supposed to be your servants’ like dude. just ignore the post if you don’t want to answer the question #and I’m not touching anime subs with a 10ft pole #looked at one once and went ‘never touching that again’

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hotwaterandmilk · 1 year ago

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Questions are being taken until after episode 8 airs!

Thank goodness someone already asked about the necklace so I don't have to do it myself. I enjoyed all the questions about Kongming's headwear logistics and Maezono Keiji's shorts too.

A+ great show, great fandom, great thighs on Sekiguchi Mandy.

#paripi koumei #ya boy kongming #ya boy kongming!#no but seriously i hope they answer the necklace question because i want to understand whyyyyy #you can go 'oh it's completing the costume' for kongming's inflitration #but it's the set kobayashi wears in every other present-day scene #so like ???#did kongming NEED to wear both necklaces? or any at all? it's a flashy suit and besides does kobayashi have absolutely no others?#this is on top of the whole suit thing to begin with mind you #i genuinely want to know the non-gay answer #the idea of a talisman might work i guess? but idk man #anyway i'm really living my best life thanks to this drama #there were some good interviews out this week too like the one with the costume designer that was like #'you absolutely couldn't put kongming's outfit into a dryer like that and have it survive. at least use a bag!'#(not exact quote of course but you get the gist)#all the staff and cast interviews have been so good #what will i do in 2 weeks?? :(#i definitely want confirmation re: which items eiko wears that were actually moka's personal clothing & accessories it's all so cute #i need to shut up and go to sleep zzz

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freydis-freydat · 2 hours ago

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Eivor was not wrong, she had responded to the call from the Feywilds in the hopes it would bring her closer to the strange half-prophecy the Veilmaiden Tove had given her before fading out of existence. It hadn’t; like most things, it had led to another endless list of questions. But Freydis felt even knowing what to question now was progress in and of its own. She did not doubt the truth in his warning that Aetheron would just as soon see her dead, whether they deemed her a meaningful threat or not. Her forehead fell against the side of his neck as she listened to him in silence, the flame that led to her small outburst now snuffed out for the time being. “For now, you will fight your war and I will fight mine,” she conceded. It was conditional–for now–but for the time being she truly meant it. “I won’t get in your way, and I won’t go looking for trouble,” she promised regarding the Aetheron, not that trouble had any issue finding her when she was so resolute that her place was in the frontlines of that battle against the Dark One and his army: what she considered her war. “But I won’t abandon paths I suspect may bring future advantages. I won’t ignore a call for help if I can be of use, just the same as the call from the Dúnedain.” Her hands balled into fists in her lap until she dug her fingernails so deep into her palms even her nail beds ached. She had responded to Deimos call because of her shrouded greater purpose, but that was not the only reason. Freydis continued to hope against reason that she still might accumulate and bring more power to herself from within the Arches or the veil.

Freydis nodded in an uncharacteristic silence when he disclosed that all Eivor knew was that he knew nothing. Perhaps she could look into it further if she could find a manner in which to do so with enough secrecy. She was busy unweaving the great length of her golden braid when he stated an observation about her and looked apologetic until he assured her he hadn’t grown exhausted with her. “I’ve told you before, I find comfort in your answers, knowing what you think,” she admitted, but this was only a piece of it. “I also know there is so little about this world and what exists beyond it. Sometimes I think if I just push enough at what I know, if I branch out enough what-ifs, then perhaps I could be lucky enough to be prepared for anything. But it’s a greater mind than mine that will puzzle out how to win this war.” She felt he ducked below the water to avoid her talking about love, even she was a little tired of herself, but he responded once he resurfaced. Quietly, her internal fear resounded in her subconscious: what person would want her around if she wasn’t of any use to them? Instead, she poured a few small drops of one of the oils she’d brought along into the palm of her hand and gestured for him to come close again. “I don’t fully understand what that title means,” she mumbled quietly before asking, “May I ask the last of my questions for tonight? They have nothing to do with Aetheron, I promise.”

Eivor wasn't the warmest, nor the most touchy, but he did it for Freydis' sake. She seemed to want to reach out often, touch and hold and get close, and he didn't mind it for the time being. She curled beneath his arm, his warmth shared with her, in a comfortable position. Her rage sparked his interest, only because his was so easily kindled, "You helped for the Dúnedain, for the Arches, for what you believe is your purpose. Not for me. And it should stay that way. Aetheron will kill you." That was spoken with vehemence; the dragon didn't wish to have her waste another moment or breath on the idea. But the truth was unspoken, and Eivor didn't have to say it to understand it. He could speak, and Freydis most likely wouldn't listen. "I understand you want to. And I will not stand in your way or stop you, but I will warn you. That's all I can do. For all I fuckin' ask in return – is to not get in my way."

He released his grip on her, moving instead to grab whatever it was she had brought along. Eivor ducked beneath the hot water, coming back up to use his free hand to push his wet hair out of his eyes. She'd perhaps missed his test about the spirit, ignored his look, or perhaps she wasn't privy enough to his actions to pick up on it. Still his actions were always intentional, and he'd let it drop to not ruin what was building.

"I've only heard of Tiamat. I don't know who or what they entail." His answer was lackluster, he knew it, but even so, all her prying about Aetheron was starting to make him feel more closed in. "You like to live in assumptions and possibilities." It was another statement, an observation, as Eivor combed through wet curls for a few moments, "It's not you that is tiring. Asking questions is tiring. Assumptions and possibilities," he pointed out again, like he was proud of the fact he'd just caught her doing that exactly once more. She puffed about love again, and Eivor dunked under the hot water once more somewhat quickly before coming back up to look at her, "Silly. Unnecessary. That's how people use you. You are a veilmaiden, not a hired shield."

#eivor #eivor 07 #catch me pretending its shorter cut its only 2 paragraphs #but as i call them to gia “paypal paragraphs”#twice as long as a normal one

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tvrningout-a · 2 years ago

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i'm gonna try to move some boxes back into my room so i can start putting my room back together, but!! maybe perhaps send me some of these hc questions to answer when i get back bc i'm feeling very soft today uvu

#you can send the category or individual questions -- whatever floats your boat!#but i might work on a bunch of headcanon stuff bc i have some other asks to answer as well #and i'll slide it into the queue maybe? we'll see #i need to start using the queue again but i just enjoy seeing people's reactions as soon as i can too uvu #the dash is slow though so it's honestly a good time to queue instead of posting immediately #ANYWAY i'll be back later!! i hope this monday is lovely for everyone!!#get ready to ramble | ooc

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after-nine-at-the-oasis · 2 years ago

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WHAT

WHAAAAAAAAAT

WHATWHATWHATWHATWHATWHAT W H A A A A A T

AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

A) LOL it's that couple again xD

B) SKFHDHFLDKS O W E N

C) AAAAAAH I KIND OF REGRET WATCHING THE PROMOS IF ONLY BC I WANNA REACT MORE WHEN I SEE IT BUT I'M SURE I STILL WILL, ANYWAY, "FIANCE" AND "FUTURE HUSBAND" AND AAHHHHHHHHHHHH

But also I mentioned seeing the top comment was something like "Now I'm even more confused" and I AGREE like WHAT THE HECK

AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

#I don't like the past marriage theory but that one's looking like its options are good #I don't GENUINELY believe it but I think they might be trying to make us think it's something like that xD #but agh I don't know xD #anyway AAAAHHHHHHH CARLOS AND ANDREA THOUGH :DDD that scene was so cute 🥰🥰🥰#yk besides the cloud of mystery and dread hanging over it XD #to us anyway and kinda to them but with less mystery lol #but yeah I do kiiind of regret watching them but at least I can have my live reactions here :))#also :DDD AAH still to the 'as long as he doesn't wear leather to the wedding' xDD #and like tk I love you but I don't think that's really answering the question xDD anyway though lol man's got his priorities straight XD #9-1-1 lone star #911 lone star #oasis's 9-1-1 chatter #911 lone star season 4 #911 lone star s4 #I hope they don't have to plan that quickly but I get the feeling they will xdd #I still want a finale wedding just for the importance of finales but I mean I'll love it any time XD #when will one of my ships finally get to plan a wedding and go through with it <33 #(looking at you malec and wopez)#XDD #anyway lol #I'm not gonna rewatch them no matter how much I want to bc I still want details to surprise me later lol #anyway AAH they were amazing and even if I regret it a bit I'm sure I'll get over it (I'm already starting too a bit and it wasn't toooo #much anyway more just 'these might be first scenes/first times we see this' (like saying fiance lol) and seeing them before xdd #but I still enjoyed and loved them :)))#the promos and the moments lol #but yeah I am SO EXCITED :DDDD #as I predicted tgd took over for a bit and I do still have to finish my review for that but lone star's already coming back (it only #backed off a bit lol) it's just now tgd had more space in there too XDD they're not encroaching on each other they're just chilling lol #anyway xDD bye y'all lol :)))!#love you guys <333 ❤️🥰🥰!

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anistarrose · 3 months ago

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Please don't tune out when you get to the non-partisan section of your ballot this November. First off, where state Supreme Court justices are elected, Republicans are trying their darndest to elect candidates who will destroy reproductive freedom, gut voting rights, and do everything in their power to give "contested" elections to Republicans. Contrast Wisconsin electing a justice in 2023 who helped rule two partisan gerrymanders unconstitutional, versus North Carolina electing a conservative majority in 2022, who upheld a racist voter ID law and a partisan gerrymander that liberal justices had previously struck down both of.

Second, local judicial offices will make infinitely more of an impact on your community than a divided state or federal legislature will. District and circuit courts, especially, are where criminalization of homelessness and poverty play out, and where electing a progressive judge with a commitment to criminal justice reform can make an immediate difference in people's lives.

It's a premier example of buying people time, and doing profound-short-term good, while we work to eventually change the system. You might not think there will be any such progressive justices running in your district, but you won't know unless you do your research. (More on "research" in a moment.)

The candidates you elect to your non-partisan city council will determine whether those laws criminalizing homelessness get passed, how many blank checks the police get to surveil and oppress, and whether lifesaving harm reduction programs, like needle exchanges and even fentanyl test strips, are legal in your municipality. Your non-partisan school board might need your vote to fend off Moms for Liberty candidates and their ilk, who want to ban every book with a queer person or acknowledgement of racism in it.

Of course, this begs the question — if these candidates are non-partisan, and often hyper-local, then how do I research them? There's so much less information and press about them, so how do I make an informed decision?

I'm not an expert, myself. But I do think/hope I have enough tips to consist of a useful conclusion to this post:

Plan ahead. If you vote in person, figure out what's on your ballot before you show up and get jumpscared by names you don't know. Find out what's on your ballot beforehand, and bring notes with you when you vote. Your city website should have a sample ballot, and if they drop the ball, go to Ballotpedia.

Ballotpedia in general, speaking of which. Candidates often answer Ballotpedia's interviews, and if you're lucky, you'll also get all the dirt on who's donating to their campaign.

Check endorsements. Usually candidates are very vocal about these on their websites. If local/state progressive leaders and a couple unions (not counting police unions lol) are endorsing a candidate, then that's not the end of my personal research process per se, but it usually speeds things up.

Check the back of the ballot. That's where non-partisan races usually bleed over to. This is the other reason why notes are helpful, because they can confirm you're not missing anything.

I've seen some misconceptions in the reblogs, so an addendum to my point about bringing notes on the candidates: I strongly suggest making those notes a physical list that you bring polling place with you. Many states do allow phones at the polling place, but several states explicitly don't — Nevada, Maryland, and Texas all ban phones, and that may not be an exhaustive list. There may also be states that allow individual city clerks to set policies.

You should also pause and think before you take a photo of your ballot, because even some states that don't ban phones still ban ballot photographs. But whether it's a photo, or just having your phone in general — in an environment as high-risk for voter suppression as the current one, you don't want even a little bit of ambiguity about your conduct. Physical notes are your friends.

#politics #us politics

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simpforboys · 20 days ago

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surprise!

drew starkey x fem!singer!reader

summary: ever since the reader started blowing up, all the interviews and promotions that would ask her who her celebrity crush is, she always had the same answer. so when Jimmy Fallon invites her on his show, he might have a surprise in store…

warnings: fluff!! second hand embarrassment, reader gushes about Drew, she’s just a fangirl at heart

‘perfume’ by del water gap mentioned <3

part two , part three, part four

2020

“Who’s your celebrity crush?”

“Drew Starkey, he plays Rafe in Outer Banks.”

“Do you have a celebrity crush?

“Yeah, Drew Starkey from Outer Banks.”

“Are there any people you would hope to collab with or meet?”

“Definitely Drew Starkey from Outer Banks.”

2021

“Last year you said multiple times Drew Starkey is your celebrity crush, is this still true?”

“Yeah, he’s still my main one.”

“Are there any guys you’re interested in?”

“My dream guy is Drew Starkey, if that’s what you mean.”

“What’s your type in a man?”

“Umm… probably Drew Starkey.”

2022

“Update us on all the boy drama! Anyone interesting?”

“Just waiting for Drew Starkey.”

“You look stunning! Are you here with anyone tonight?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Your crush around Drew Starkey, is that still a thing?”

“It still is… have you seen his new movie ‘Hellraiser’?”

2023

“Your new EP just released, are any of the songs about Drew Starkey?”

“Not on this one, no. Maybe the next one.”

“Are you seeing anyone? Has Drew Starkey called?”

“No, not yet. Maybe next year.”

“Have you seen season three of ‘Outer Banks’ yet?”

“Yes, oh my god! Drew looked so good.”

2024

“Your new song ‘Perfume’ is an absolute hit! Is it about Drew Starkey?”

“Omg, no, but it should’ve been.”

“You’ve quickly risen to fame! Has Drew Starkey noticed you yet?”

“Unfortunately, no. He’s probably hiding.”

Ever since your career started, in every single interview you get the question regarding celebrity crushes, the answer was always the same.

Drew Starkey.

It became a known meme revolving you and your fans, along with the media. Practically every interview just loved to teased you about your known celebrity crush.

Your popularity rose more in 2023 to 2024, so, when Jimmy Fallon reached out to you to have you on his show, your agency immediately agreed.

Standing behind the curtain wearing a tight brown suit, the pants wide-leg. Black boots were your choice of footwear, your makeup done perfectly to match the outfit.

“Ladies and gentlemen, bring your hands together for Y/n L/n!”

When Jimmy announced your name, you came out from behind the curtain, a big smile on your face as you waved to the audience.

Shaking hands and hugging some of the crew members before you finally hugged Jimmy, settling down in the blue chair.

“How are you doing tonight?” Jimmy asks with a warm smile.

“I’m doing good! Pretty nervous to be honest, this is my first talkshow.” You answered sincerely.

The audience clapped and Jimmy sunk back in his seat a little more.

“Well, I’m glad to be your first one! So, your new song ‘Perfume’ recently came out, congratulations on 200 million streams.”

“Thank you so much, really.” Your hands were shaking as you fidgeted with the brown fabric on your knee, one leg crossed over the other.

“So, you’ve been singing since 2020?” Jimmy asks.

“Yeah, I started posting videos on Tik Tok but my career really took off at the end of 2023 and now here we are.” You smile, the whole experience still so surreal.

“Your voice is phenomenal, seriously. I’ll need to have you come back and sing on the show for us.” Jimmy says, causing the audience to erupt into cheers.

You laughed a little, nodding your head. “Of course, anytime.”

Jimmy continued to talk to you for a few more minutes about your career, the conversation flowing smoothly as you cracked some nervous jokes.

“So, I have to ask, Y/n. Since your career began you’ve said your celebrity crush is Drew Starkey, can you tell us more about this?”

You felt your face get a little warm as you shifted in your seat, an anxious smile on your lips.

“I dunno, I guess I’ve just always found him attractive. He’s insanely talented and just seems like a very genuine soul.” You say sheepishly, avoiding looking at the camera.

“He’s also becoming more and more popular right now, with season four of ‘Outer Banks’ that came out in October and November along with his new movie ‘Queer’.” Jimmy adds on.

“Yeah, I’m a pretty big fan so I’ve been following along with it. I’m very proud of him, in like a supportive-fan way.” You say, making the audience laugh at the last part.

You were completely oblivious to Jimmy looking behind you, motioning with his hand underneath his desk.

“So it’s not just his looks?” Jimmy teases.

“I mean, he’s a very beautiful man. He looks good with any haircut especially that mullet he had last year — and oh my god, he just looked so good in season four of ‘Outer Banks.’ Plus he has these big biceps that just bulge out of any shirt.”

You hadn’t even realized you were gushing over your celebrity crush until you finally caught yourself, hearing the audience laughing.

“Oh, gosh. You are really into him, huh?” Jimmy teases.

“What would you do if he was standing right behind you?” The host asks.

If you weren’t so nervous from being on a national talkshow you probably would’ve understood his message.

But your brain caused you to miss it, being as oblivious as ever.

“Probably pass out.” You answered, hearing the audience giggle more. Jimmy had an amused grin on his face.

“Please don’t pass out.”

Your posture immediately straightened, body tense as you stood up from the seat.

Turning around, your heart dropped to your stomach when you saw Drew fucking Starkey standing there.

The audience’s laughter grew as well as Jimmy’s, clearly satisfied with the surprise.

Your hands went to cover your mouth, face feeling hot like you had a fever. You just gushed about this man practically to his face.

“Hi, Y/n. I’m Drew.”

You couldn’t respond, just in pure shock as you stare at the tall man.

Drew also looked a little sheepish, his cheeks pink as he grinned at you.

“Did you— did you hear everything?” You finally managed to choke out.

“Maybe.” Drew chuckled, scratching the side of his neck.

“How do you feel after hearing all that, Drew?” Jimmy chuckles.

“I’m honored,” Drew replies.

You hated the way he fucking said that and the way you understood that reference.

Drew held his hand out for you to shake, but your heart was beating too fast and your brain was turning into nervous mush that you just embarrassed yourself in front of your dream man.

“Are you going to shake his hand? Hug him?” Jimmy chuckled.

“I’m… scared.” You murmured, the audience swooning and giggling over your shyness.

“Can I hug you?” Drew asked.

Stunned, your head slowly nodded. His strong arms wrapped around your body, your forehead resting against his shoulder.

You couldn’t even hug him back properly, just too much in shock. He smelt like cologne and it made your knees weak.

“I love your new song, by the way.” Drew murmured softly in your ear.

“Yeah?” You whisper, feeling like an idiot for the way you were reacting in front of him.

Drew just nods and hums, soothingly caressing your back in an effort to calm you down.

“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up one last time for Y/n L/n and Drew Starkey!” Jimmy has to end the segment.

The audience cheers as Drew continues to embrace you.

He had known about you for the last few months, having a few of your songs in his playlists.

He was just constantly busy so he never really got the chance to reach out, but when Jimmy’s team contacted him about surprising you on the show, he was excited.

And nervous.

“Sorry about surprising you like that.” Jimmy comes over, causing you and Drew to finally pull away.

“You gave me trust issues for talkshows now.” You said jokingly, finally calming down a bit.

Drew and Jimmy both laughed softly.

The film crew told you and Drew that the commercial break would be ending soon so to step off stage.

You did your signature on the wall dedicated to Jimmy’s guests, feeling familiar blue eyes gazing at you.

After thanking each crew member and shaking hands or hugging, an assistant pointed you and Drew towards where a car will take you both back to your perspective hotels.

“You ready?” Drew asked you.

You nodded, feeling nervous due to the fact that you were about to be alone in the back of a car with your celebrity crush, other than the driver in the front.

Drew opened the door for you as you climbed in, hyperaware of how he slid in behind you onto the leather seat.

It was quiet for a few moments, you nervously fidgeting with the rings on your fingers.

“So… you like my new song?”

You finally manage to choke out.

Drew smiled softly, turning his head to look at you. He was still a little flustered at everything that happened, but also very amused.

“I do, yeah. Are you going to shoot a music video for it?” Drew asked.

You nod, making eye contact with him.

“Yeah, my idea is to tell a story about these two lovers who move to like a quieter part, I was thinking either the forest or a desert, that live in poorer conditions but are completely happy and content because they have each other. I want it to be full of love, so kissing, affection, a sex scene.”

You rambled on to him, your eyes falling to your hands as you played with your rings.

“Oh, wow. That sounds cool as fuck.” Drew murmured, also watching your hands fidget. He thought it was cute.

“I’ve had the idea in my head for a few years, actually. I started writing ‘Perfume’ in like… 2021? So, I just want everything to be perfect.”

You added on, looking back at him. He had his left leg crossed over his knee, his body language towards you.

“Well… if you need a male costar, I would love to do it.” He gave you a smile.

A small grin curled onto your lips, stomach hurting at realization of what he just implied.

“Yeah?”

He nodded, licking his lips.

“Mhm. I told you, I love the song. Plus, your idea sounds amazing, and if you want me to, I would love to be apart of it.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat when it finally hit you that Drew fucking Starkey wanted to be your on-screen lover.

“You’re not just fucking with me, right?”

You had to ask, blurting it out of your nervous mouth.

Drew just snorted, shaking his head in amusement. “No, I’m not.”

“Okay… I’ll have my manager reach out to your’s about details for when we start shooting. I appreciate it a lot.”

You were unaware the car finally came to a stop, parked outside your hotel, fans and security guards waiting for you.

“Yeah, I’ll definitely be there. Have a good night, Y/n.”

Drew smiled at you, your heart fluttering.

“You too, Drew.”

You got out of the car, letting the security guards guide you inside the hotel. You tried your best to take photos or sign autographs for your dedicated fans, something Drew admired as he watched from the back of the SUV.

By the time you finally got back into your hotel room and kicked off your boots, you started taking off your jewelry.

Flopping down onto the bed, you grabbed your phone.

It felt like your heart dropped to your stomach when one notification specifically caught your eye.

@/drewstarkey started following you back

#simpforboys #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x singer!reader #drew starkey angst #drew starkey smut #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron imagine #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you

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inkedbybarnes · 10 months ago

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unclear

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: everyone thinks you're dating bucky, except yourself.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: 18+ minors dni. miscommunication (i love this trope, sue me), angst with a happy fluffy ending, quite stubborn reader, implied smut if you squint, usage of petnames such as baby and doll. lowercase for basically everything.

i haven't finished anything in decades, but i suddenly had an idea just now and decided to write it down. surprisingly, i finished it? might have a lot of mistakes and such since i haven't proofread it yet. also, sorry for using lowercase for this, i kinda like how it looks. hope you enjoy this one!

dividers by @cafekitsune!

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“you're confusing me. so... you're not dating bucky?”

wanda tilted her head, confusion etched on her face as you spent your weekly girl's night with natasha. it usually consisted of eating food you all desired, drinking until you got wasted, and spilling secrets to one another.

although tonight, you weren't sure if you had any secrets to spill.

"as far as i know, no. we're just friends, teammates. nothing else," you answered with a heavy sigh. "can we talk about something else?"

"hold your horses, young lady! we are not skipping this topic again. you obviously want a label but he isn't giving you one!" wanda protested. she has been constantly asking about you and bucky's relationship for the past weeks, and you always had the same answer. you don't know.

"have you never talked about it with bucky? he looks at you like you'd get lost if he looks away for a second. not a single soul in the tower would think that you're just friends," natasha interjected, taking another sip from the bottle of beer she held. she had a point, as always. "if he's just playing with you, which i highly doubt for barnes, then just end whatever that is. you deserve better than having doubts and confusion, babe."

you've tried asking him multiple times, but every attempt felt like you were stepping on his boundaries. after years of being controlled by hydra, you knew it was possible that he'd hate the feeling of being rushed and entering a relationship that could potentially feel like a cage to him.

but natasha was right. your "relationship" was no longer anything friendly. he sleeps in your bed, claiming he slept better in it, and wakes up beside you to shower you with kisses. none of you even tried to hide it after some time. you always cooked your meals and ate them together, casually feeding one another and stealing kisses in between. you even stopped going on dates and you had no idea if you were exclusive. you deserved to know what your relationship with bucky was, but you were too scared to lose everything once you asked.

"we're not dating. i only see him as a friend, so you can both stop worrying about me." you lied through your teeth, your chest aching as you realised how stupid this was. you sighed and faked a smile, shifting the attention to natasha. "so, tell me about your date with steve! how was the first ever date of captain america since the 40s?"

wanda was distracted by the question, immediately bombarding the now blushing widow with questions. on the other hand, your mind flew away for a minute, finally deciding to get an answer from bucky.

the annual ball that tony stark held for, well, nearly anyone, was nearing. you only had two weeks left, and you haven't even gone out to find something to wear. it was hard to find any motivation to do all that effort when the person you've been waiting to ask you as his date hasn't asked you yet.

although, bucky had a tendency to get shy and hold back. you knew that. so here you were, standing behind the doors to the gym, knowing that bucky would be training at this hour. you still haven't asked him the question you were supposed to ask him, so you decided to do it all at once.

after you've finished your small pep talk, you opened the door to enter the room and your first instinct was to search for bucky.

considering that he was a huge chunk of a man, he was easy to find. however, the sight of him standing in front of a woman that was too close for your comfort wasn't delightful.

he didn't see you entering the room since he was facing the opposite direction, conversing with the agent that happened to be training as well. she had the sweetest and flirtiest smile on her face, bringing her hand up to his arm, slowly caressing it. you didn't mean to easily hear their conversation as you walked closer.

"so, do you happen to have someone for me to have as a date for the ball? i don't want to be lonely on that night, sergeant," the agent said with an extra pout, swaying her hips side to side like a child asking for candy.

"oh, yeah? i think i have someone for you," bucky replied, breaking your heart into pieces with how enthusiastic he was with his answer. "i'm sure you'll—"

you sniffed. unconsciously. not knowing that your tears were already falling, causing your nose to get stuffy. how pathetic, you thought.

your little sniff caught the attention of both the agent and bucky, looking at you in shock. although, the girl was more pleasantly surprised than the opposite. thankfully, you already had your tears wiped before they could see them.

"oh, we didn't see you there!" she greeted you with your name. "we were just talking about our date for this year's ball. who are you bringing?"

"i haven't decided yet, no one's worth it even if i try," you answered bitterly. "so you're going together?"

before bucky could answer, the agent already had her arm wrapped around his, happily smiling at your question. "yeah! amazing, right? i actually thought you two had a thing, but i guess not. glad things worked out in the end."

and that was your last straw. "well, enjoy yourselves. i have to go and find natasha."

you turned to leave, ignoring the loud calls of bucky. you were glad that you never asked him about your relationship and the ball. you were going to be hurt either way.

you spent the next hours stuck in your room, body covered with a thick sheet as you ranted about your frustrations to friday.

it was silly, you knew that, but you refused to call natasha and wanda to remind you of your stupidity and decided to let an ai robot listen to your problems instead.

"and he even flirted back! answering coyly like a teenager. he's 107 years old, fri!" you whined, not noticing the new nickname you've given the alternative intelligence. "ugh, now i have a broken heart and no date in sight. how did it get to this?"

"perhaps you must discuss this matter with sergeant barnes first. your conversation ended quite abruptly with no clear conclusion."

"no, i don't want the truth rubbed on my face," you said, grabbing another piece of tissue to sneeze in. "you restricted him from entering my room, right?"

friday answered with a yes, then you thanked her for listening and decided to get some sleep after tirelessly crying for hours. you knew you had a team meeting with the avengers in a bit, but you couldn't bring yourself to even walk a few steps.

your sleep ended and you were woken up with friday's reminder that it was time for dinner with the team.

with a groan, you pushed yourself off your bed. bucky would be there, but you were too hungry to care. it would be awkward, of course, but you had to face him at some point anyway.

your feet padded towards the door, opening it after trying your hair in a bun.

"ah, fuck."

you jumped at the voice and the body falling to the floor as you opened the door.

"bucky?" you asked, still in shock. "were you sleeping outside of my room?"

you watched bucky stand up, his hand massaging his aching nape as he looked for your eyes. "friday won't let me in. i waited outside instead. i guess i fell asleep during that," he explained, a frown forming on his face. "did you restrict me from entering our room?"

your eyes widened at his choice of words. our room. he considered your room to be his room as well. while that would've made you melt in an instant, you were still hurt to entertain that possibility.

"this is my room, barnes. not yours, not ours. and yes, i had you restricted because i couldn't face you yet. what do you need anyway?"

"i wanted to see you, talk to you." a flash of pain crossed his eyes. "whatever happened at the gym, it's—"

"bucky, you don't have to explain anything to me. we're just friends. it's my fault i assumed we were something. i just need some time to get over it."

"but i thought we were something as well..." he replied, his voice was almost as quiet as a whisper. "i thought we were dating."

"were we?" you asked, genuinely curious. "we never.. you never said anything. i mean, yeah, i wished it meant something, but i thought you wouldn't want to be trapped in a relationship with me, so i just waited. apparently, i was right and i can't blame you for that."

"right about what? the thing that happened in the gym this morning?" he asked. you nodded in response. "i know it sounds like i was flirting back, well i didn't know at the moment, until i asked steve who was clueless but he called nat to help me out and explained that it looked like i was flirting back. i wasn't. i was just going to suggest sam as a date for her. i would never agree to anyone."

oh. so he just wasn't interested in anyone at all.

"besides this one girl who's constantly been in my head. that's if she'd even give me a chance and say yes. i fucked it up badly before i could even ask her properly."

you knew what hoping got you, but you couldn't help but think that he was talking about you. he'd have to be clueless to say all those things in front of you only for it to be someone else.

"i love you, baby. i should've told you that, i should've made it clear sooner. i'm so sorry i let you have doubts when i could've been reassuring you about what i feel for you."

"bucky..."

"i would never feel trapped with you, doll. only you made me feel so much love and freedom. i'd be a fool to let go of that. i'm sorry it took a few hits and harsh words from natasha to make me realise that i wasn't giving you enough when you deserve everything." he held your face in his hands, bringing you closer to him. you felt breathless, tears threatening to fall but this time it was out of joy. "hydra made sure i had no voice to express myself. now, i'll use it to let you know that i love you so fucking much that it hurts when you're not around. i promise to work on it. if anything like this happens again, ask me, baby. demand things from me. i'll give you everything in a heartbeat."

"even if i ask for your arm?"

he laughed, a sound that was music to your ears. "it's yours baby. although, i do like fucking you with my metal—"

"bucky!" you scolded him, hitting him lightly on the chest.

"sorry, baby. couldn't help it. missed my girl so much."

his girl. you loved hearing that.

"it's only been a few hours. don't be silly," you reminded him, but you knew you also felt the same.

"i miss you even when i don't see you for a second." you couldn't help but laugh at his words. "something funny, doll?"

"sorry, natasha said something similar about you a few days ago," you answered. "i'm sorry for assuming so quickly, bucky. you deserved the chance to explain."

"and you did let me explain. i can't blame you for assuming and getting hurt when i never gave you the confirmation to believe otherwise. don't apologise for it, baby."

"i love you," you said, causing him to grin widely.

"yeah? you love me too?" he asked, a hint of pink tinting his cheeks. "this is official now, right? we're dating?"

you nodded happily, giggling as he landed a kiss to your mouth. "so, you wanna go to the ball with me?"

he kissed you again. "don't. i'm supposed to be asking you that. i had an entire thing prepared for you, i even dragged half of the team to help me out days ago. besides wanda and natasha, of course. couldn't let them tell you about it."

your heart swelled, he was already planning to ask you before all of this misunderstanding happened, and it could've been solved with communication. lesson learned, indeed.

"well hurry because i can't wait to say yes," you playfully threatened him, kissing the tip of his nose until the loud rumble of your stomach interrupted your sweet moment. "ah, right. i was on my way to eat dinner when i opened the door."

bucky laughed, his eyes twinkling witth adoration as he kept his eyes on you. "we can't have you starving, that's for sure. come, let's get you something." he held your hand, and dragged you to the kitchen. he turned to look at you with a playful smile. "wanna cook together like the old times?"

you smiled. "like the old times."

in the middle of your cooking session, you heard whistles and claps along with the footsteps that entered the kitchen. you both turned to find the rest of the team with shit eating grins.

"finally! so is this real or do we need to smack your heads?" tony asked, his hand placed on his hip.

"it's always been real, stark," bucky answered, wrapping his arm around your waist. "except this time, i'm making sure my entire world knows it."

"i think everybody knows you have a thing for each other, barnes." clint added.

"i meant my entire world, not everybody." bucky looked at you with awe. "she's my world."

bucky's answer gained various loud reactions from the team, mostly calling him a cheesy old man and fake gags, but there you were, cheeks heating up as you looked back at him with the same amount of love, if not more.

and he did ask you to be his date to the ball the day after, surprising you with his so-called secret plan.

a year later, he surprised you with a ring as he knelt on one knee.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

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