#but I most often use them to in some way grow my love for both characters

[itzpookiepooh]

Hey pookie i had a request for yeww!! would you write where lads smacked your dumpy instead?

Hello my love! I most definitely would!

SMACK THAT!

You were training with Sylus when he called it. You were drinking your water and wiping your sweat off. Sylus couldn’t keep his eyes off you, a smirk growing on his face. What did he do to deserve you?

“I’m gonna shower.” You inform him as you walk by him, the opportunity couldn’t pass. He wouldn’t let it.

He let you pass just a bit before his hand swings and hits your butt. His hand bouncing off as he bit his lip. You freeze before turning to him. Your eyes narrow at him.

“Sylus.” Your tone stern, he shrugs crossing his arms over his chest.

“You look tantalizing in those shorts, sweetie.” He told you as he chuckled. You rolled your eyes playfully at him.

“Hands to yourself mister.” You call to him from behind you. You weren’t alone for long before he came to give you another tap before your shower. Trying to get past him was the hard part.

Xavier couldn’t get enough of you. He had to always touch you in some way. Even you going to the bathroom felt long to him. You guys were watching a movie when you got up. Xavier’s eyes follow your body as you stretch.

As you got to fix your shorts you felt it.

P O W!

“Xavier!” You shout at him. You hold your butt and turn to him. He’s facing you like he did nothing wrong.

“I was tempted.” He admits before relaxing into the couch. You huff, “You’re annoying.” You yell from the hall.

“I love you too!” He shouts back with a smirk. As you continued to walk away he stealthily walks up behind you to pick you up by you waist. He throws you over his shoulder to smack it again. You squeal and hit his back as he laughs uncontrollably.

You were lying in bed after a nice hot shower. You were sprawled out in your pjs waiting for the steam to leave your skin. You sigh as your eyes grow heavier. Caleb peeked into the room to tell you dinner was ready when he saw how you were laying. He could mimic the grinch with how wide he smirked. He whistled and you already knew what was coming but you were too slow.

“Caleb!” You yelled holding your burning cheek. The smacking echoing off the wall as he lays beside you, rubbing the area.

“I couldn’t help myself. It was so inviting.” He chuckled as he kissed the back of your head.

“I hate you so much.” You groan into the pillow. He laughs softly before lifting up off the bed.

“Dinners ready.” He announced. He looks back and slaps your butt one more time before sprinting down the hallway with you on his heels.

Rafayel loved every part of you, down to your bones. He let you know that often too. Rafayel could be in your clothes with you if he could. That’s how much he loves you. Today was no different when you fell asleep on his chest breathing softly. He caressed your back in order to put you to sleep when it hit him. Revenge.

He lifted both his hands into the air before slamming them down on your butt, to which you jolted awake. You groan into his chest clutching his shirt tightly. He chuckles his chest rumbling beneath you. You got him back by pinching his nipple. He yelps swatting your hand away.

“You’re evil.” You tell him as he chuckles. “I was returning a favor.” He informs you making you glare at him.

“That was weeks ago.” You tell him as he shrugs. He rubs the spot he hit and kisses your forehead.

“Maybe it was calling to me.” He rolls his eyes at you. You just blink at him.

“Then I’ll use your phrase against you. Do it again and I’ll spit bubbles at you.” He chuckles at your threat. “Only Lumerian’s can do that.” You just huff and lay back down on his chest, ignoring him.

This was out of character for Zayne, you knew it well. You guys were trying not to be late for your reservation as you quickly finished adding accessories. So imagine how shocked you were when he helped you put on your coat for a night out and felt a soft tap on your butt out the door. You froze and looked at him in confusion. He tilts his head at you also confused as to why you were staring at him.

“Was I moving too slow?” You ask with your arms crossed. He raises an eyebrow, “No? I’m confused.” He replies before you shift your weight onto your other leg.

“You smacked my butt.” You inform him and he stares at you as if to say ‘that’s all?’.

“I’m aware.” His monotone voice unchanged. Your jaw drops at his reply. “I assumed since you touch mine so much it’s only fair to return the favor.” He tells you but you were so shocked you couldn’t move.

“Now come on before we’re late.” He taps your butt once more this time making sure you move from the door. You couldn’t believe he did that.

I was going to make Zayne seem like he did it on accident but with some of his cards y’know how he gets once in a blue moon 😮‍💨

[unstoppableobjects]

some of my headcanons for the pitt:

- Robby is really outdoorsy and loves hiking. In fact, one of his favorite parts about living in Pittsburgh is all the trails in and around the city. He’s been to most of the national parks and used to really love to camp, but now in his “old age” prefers a cabin over a tent (much to the delight of Heather, who’s more of a Turks and Caicos than Yosemite kind of gal).

- Santos loves reality TV and there’s not a show on Bravo that she hasn’t seen or won’t watch. When she moved to Pittsburgh, she was most excited to go see the Abby Lee Dance Company from Dance Moms.

- Mel loves the rush of emergency medicine and the exciting variety of procedures she gets to perform, but her time in the ER teaches her how much she truly loves working with kids and getting to form lasting connections with patients. This ultimately leads her to become an obstetrician - and really damn good one!

(I love my princess pookie bear diva icon legend Dr. Mel and I want her to be on the show forever, but you can’t tell me that she wouldn’t just love and be the absolute best at delivering babies and being a compassionate advocate for expecting and postpartum moms)

- Frank is short for Fitzgerald.

- Mateo convinces Javadi to take a gap year after the end of this year to take some time off and have all the young dumb fun of early adulthood that she’s missed out on being the medical prodigy of overbearing doctor parents (of course, he’s right there with her as often as he can be, helping her make the most of her time off).

- Heather LOVES fashion. She’s got a Nordstrom credit card and reads British Vogue instead of American Vogue because she knows it’s better. Samira says her style is “quiet luxury” - Khaite, The Row, Celine. Sure, her time in finance practically necessitated that she have a familiarity with all the finer things in life (we see that Cartier necklace girl!), but she really loves the art and the craftsmanship behind luxury fashion. Once she went into medicine, her time spent out of scrubs became precious and she doesn’t want to spend a moment of it not as comfortable and pampered as she can possibly be.

- Heather is a major mentor and advocate for Samira, as she knows just how desperately important it is for a doctor to be thorough and stand up for marginalized patients in the way that Samira does. She hates how Robby takes his frustrations with Gloria and the hospital administration out on a doctor as competent as Samira, finding it especially hypocritical knowing how much he detests the way they view patients as numbers instead of people.

- In fact, addressing his internalized biases as a doctor becomes a major point of both tension as well as growth professionally (and personally!) for Robby and Heather, especially as she becomes an attending. She pushes him to confront and correct the blind spots he has around gender and race that can affect how he does his job. It’s not easy, but it makes them both become better leaders, physicians, and people.

- Princess was a travel nurse for a decade and has some absolutely unhinged stories from those years. Even Perlah, more often than not the only one who actually wants to hear them, has yet to get the full breadth of the Princess Lore™️.

- Whitaker was in the 4-H club for most of his life growing up. Santos finds out and teases him relentlessly for it.

- Both Dana and McKay have been with women before. Neither one ever brings it up, but they do sexual tension about it.

(I have more of these and honestly like a million headcanons for robbycollins alone, but lmk what you think. Maybe I’ll post more!)

[coffee-in-rain]

truly agree with everything that's been said here! often, Will is made out to be grieving Abigail post-fall or holding her death over Hannibal (as if Hannibal didn't feel a speck of affection/love for her, even though Hannibal was the one who truly saw her, accepted her as she was, helped her, cared for her during those months she was in hiding—most likely came over and cooked for her multiple times a week, comforted her when she was anxious and grieving the life she used to have, made sure she had necessary things like a bed and room to sleep in/pads/tampons/other hygiene products/clothes and probably bought her other things that would make any young woman happy—she was 19 years-old; not a child even though some people think that to be the case—like makeup and books, and learned about her interests/hobbies, spent time with her after sharing breakfast or lunch or dinner together, discussed what living in Florence would be like, what she would want to do once they settled in, i.e what she'd want to study in college, etc).

This is just my headcanon: Hannibal would even celebrate Abigail's birthday (because it made him feel almost whole again in those moments since he most likely celebrated Mischa's birthday alone yet could never watch her grow older; she was always going to be his baby sister—a baby; a child forever. And Abigail was precious to him, reminding him of Mischa. How she would come to him for comfort. How she depended on him to keep her safe; and with Mischa, he'd failed (even though he was a child himself, he carries that guilt and Mischa's absence forever). He knew what Abigail must be feeling; could recognize his younger self in her. Abigail was the closest thing Hannibal could ever have to loving his lost sister again.

Yes, Will cared for Abigail. But I don't think he ever loved her because he barely even knew her. This'll probably ruffle some people's feathers (so anyone is free to disagree with me because it's simply my headcanon and interpretation), but Will genuinely did not know Abigail. He knew of her and her trauma, but that was the extent of their relationship. He'd killed her father and felt guilty / responsible for changing her life in such an irreversible way that would follow her for the rest of her life, no matter how much she tried to run away from what happened to her. She was a victim in Will's eyes; something broken.

She was both a victim and capable of darkness in Hannibal's eyes. Hannibal knew she did what she had to do to survive her father. He embraced her and stepped up in a way she needed because she still young and the world would eat her alive. He thought doing so would keep Will close to him, and it was selfish; but he seemed to genuinely care for Abigail. He would've done the same for Mischa and that was probably always in the back of his mind when being around Abigail. He was the big brother he always felt he should've been when caring for Abigail—and a father-figure for her, too.

But Will rarely spent time with Abigail. Let's not forget that Abigail despised Will. To put it simply, she seemed to hate him. That's what I gathered from the show. Even though she grew to accept Will because it's what Hannibal wanted (to live a life with her and Will), I don't think she truly loved Will the same way she loved Hannibal. They barely knew each other. Her and Will. They met a few times and talked about each other to Hannibal. They would always remind each other of their own darkness they'd tried to hide for years. If they'd all run away to Florence together, there would probably be tension between Abigail and Will, and eventually Hannibal would value Will over Abigail. He loves Will more than Abigail, even when she's still alive.

Hannibal knows them both and probably (before Mizumono) envisioned what life would be like living with them. He most likely already had a house fully furnished and decorated and stocked with things both Abigail and Will would enjoy. He probably kept track of Abigail's (and Mischa's) birthdays while in the BHSCI. He'd probably dream of her, too, maybe even have nightmares about her. He was probably remembering memories of spending time with her at the cliff house in 3x13. He would probably not have let himself truly grieve her for a long time.

Post-Fall, I think Will understands that while Abigail was important to him, she wouldn't ever love him or be comfortable around him, and maybe it's better she is dead; she would've suffered living with him and Hannibal. He comes to the realization Abigail's death was far more impactful on Hannibal, because Hannibal knew her on a much more intimate level. Abigail reminded Hannibal of Mischa—and that is something Will can never understand. He can acknowledge that she was a reminder of Mischa, but he'll never be able to understand the weight of her loss from Hannibal's perspective. He wouldn't hold her loss over Hannibal. He would take responsibility for being half the cause of her death. He wouldn't make snide remarks about Hannibal being able to kill her with ease as if she didn't matter (as if she only mattered to Will yet not even half as much to Hannibal, someone who grew to know and care for her). Will understands Hannibal's grief is likely unprocessed and tucked away. That Hannibal still thinks of her at the cliff house (as someone mentioned in the prior posts here). There are rarely any fics that depict Hannibal's grief over Abigail, but so many that depict Will's grief over Abigail, and I think exploring that seems very interesting.

Hannibal lost Mischa; the most important person in his life; someone he felt responsible for. Will lost Abigail; someone he felt responsible for. Hannibal probably felt like it was a full-circle-moment. He was hurt. Yes, but maybe he thought if Will experienced such a profound loss (similar to how he felt losing Mischa; yet not nearly as life-altering, because Abigail and Will weren't as close), then Will would be able to truly understand him (the part of himself he could never bear to share with Will; that he once had someone precious ripped away, too, even more unfairly, even more grotesquely than a throat being sliced open). He lost Abigail, too. Will wasn't the only one to lose her. Abigail's death probably hurt Hannibal much more than Will. I'll die on that hill. I can't see Will bringing up Abigail post-fall simply to begrudge Hannibal, because Will cared for her, but he didn't love her, and he knows Hannibal would be the one truly grieving her loss.

edit to add: Hannibal's routine was centered around Abigail when she was in hiding. He had to bring her food and other necessities constantly. Will's life did not revolve around Abigail to the same extent Hannibal's did.

I've often seen posts/fanfics where Will brings up Abigail post-fall, but honestly? I don't think so.

I feel like Will "said goodbye" to Abigail in Primavera. In Dolce he simply stated that Mischa, Abigail and Chiyoh are blurred in Hannibal's mind and he feels guilty of every single crime Hannibal committed, including Abigail's murder.

However, Hannibal? He brought up Abigail as soon as he smelled baby oil on Will, he was thinking about her while being in prison, and when he was at the cliff house with Will in The Wrath of the Lamb he commented that there was more land here when he was here with Abigail?

It seems to me that Will's grief has eased, but Hannibal's grief is still unprocessed and raw. I know mourning never truly really ends, but after Primavera we don't see Will ever think about Abigail ever again (Antipasto actually takes place before Primavera). We see only Hannibal bringing up Abigail all over again.

The dynamic of the three of them is terribly unhealthy, but I believe that Hannibal cared more about Abigail, or at least what she represented in his head.

[szatears]

☆ thinking about modernau!smoke coming home to you and your son...

obviously as a business man, he'd be away a lot, often for days at a time. but he always made sure not to stay away for too long, away from his family.

isaiah was your first born son with smoke. he was a tiny baby, his little body no longer than just over half your forearm when you first held him. that day was full of emotions for both you and smoke but in the end, it all paid off.

smoke was hesitant to leave you both when he got calls from his brother about something that had just come up. he'd try and make excuses, telling stack that he could go handled it and it would be fine, even though he knew when it came to handling business, stack was a little more loose than him.

it was you in the end who pushed him. smoke had been coddling you ever since you found out you were pregnant. wouldn't left you lift nothing heavy, touch anything that he could get for you. hell, you shouldn't even be breathing heavy around him if he could help it.

but you knew what his money meant to him. not more than you and his family, of course. but it was important to smoke that he was able to provide for you. "go, baby," you whispered one night as you lay close to him, your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat. "we'll be okay. plus i've been wanting some time alone with zai, can't have him growing up to be a daddy's boy now, can i?"

reluctantly, he listened to you. and the whole time be was away, all he could do was think about a quick way to do this is he could be back at home, his wife and son in his arms.

smoke couldn't believe he was a father now. it was something he'd dreams of, like a distant future he could never really grasp a hold of, until you came along. you changed his life, almost. gave him that sense of needing and being needed. you made sure that he could be elijah again without having the carry the burden of what he went through. sure, it was always gonna be with him. but with you, it was like he knew how to forget about that.

isaiah wasn't yet old enough to understand that his dad was away for days at a time, nor old enough to understand the reason why. he was just under a year old, gummy smile with two small teeth growing, barely learning how to stand up still for more than seconds at a time.

yet, when he heard the sound of the door opening followed by heavy footsteps, his head would turn, completely disregarding you handing him his toys.

he'd wait until his father walked into his view before he started squirming, a grin on his face as his legs kicked. it would've insulted you how much of a daddy's boy isaiah was if you didn't find it so heartwarming.

"there's my boy," smoke smiled as he picked him. another thing about welcoming a baby boy to the world — you've never seen smoke smile so much. even if he had a rough day, he never let it show around his son. he really was a saving grace to him.

smoke sat isaiah on his lap, leaning his body over towards you for a kiss. "hi, my love," you mumbled against his lips. smoke hummed, genuinely at peace, the day's events all forgotten.

"he been good for you, baby?" he asked, more so directed at isaiah, who only babbled as his dad gently tickled his stomach.

"he slept for most of the day," you yawned, using the arm that rested on the back of the sofa to support your head as you watched them. "wasn't too much trouble. though i'm beginning to think he's happier when you're around."

"yeah, that's my boy," smoke encouraged him, holding isaiah's hand for a high five. he looked over at you, trying to decode based on your body language and facial expressions if you had rested up like you told him you would.

"did you sleep today?" he asked.

"i slept enough last night," you shrugged.

"baby───"

"i'm fine, honestly," you fought a yawn that just so happened to want to be let out at that time.

"no you not. here, c'mon." smoke stood up with isaiah, holding his hand out for you. "it's almost tike for his bedtime, you can sleep too."

"elijah, i'm fine. plus i got a lot to do, i still have to prep for tomorrow───"

"stop making excuses, come on up," he had to speak firmly, you weren’t hearing him.

you stared at him and he stared right back. "woman, you know i'll put him to bed and come drag you up myself if i have to."

you did know. huffing, you walked in front of him, rolling your eyes when he slapped your ass.

whilst you washed your face, brushed your teeth and got ready for bed, smoke managed to put isaiah to sleep, grabbing the baby monitor with him as he came into the bedroom. you weren't in bed yet, at the vanity taking off your jewellery.

he came up behind you, his hands on your hips as he pulled your back into his chest. you caught a scent of the gel he used when he had a shower. "you showered before you came?" you asked.

"yeah, i stopped by stack's... stop changing the topic, c'mon," he tapped your side twice, and you let him lead you to the bed. before he got in though, you grabbed his arm. you had a frown on his face, making him frown to. "what's wrong."

"can i get a proper kiss?" you were already pulling him back towards you. smoke's face relaxed, a faint smirk on his lips.

he held one side of your face in his hand, pulling you towards his own. you smiled into the kiss, never ever getting tired of the feeling of his lips on yours. as he kissed you, his hands went trailing down your body. you knew what he was going to do so you helped him, lifting your leg up so in turn he could lift you up.

he carried you back to the bed, slowing setting you on it, never once breaking the kiss. you let out a light moan when he was on top of you, your hands raking over his toned body.

smoke groaned, pulling away from you to pull back the covers. "girl, you a damn distraction. get away from me," he joked, getting under the covers with you.

you laughed, settling underneath at the same time he did, letting him pull you close to him. his arm around your waist, you cuddled into his chest. just how you liked it.

taglist: @childishgambinaax @abriefnirvana @blackisy2k @chrisevansmentee @siasoup @amethyst09 @heauxtales @skywalker0809 @thelightknight21 @klssngss @atomicearthquakemusic7 @oc3anbxbyxoxo @honestlyurslol @simpingfor-wakasa

[luvingjeanie]

headcanons | ryohei arisu

author’s note: i started aib and ohmygod this man, smut hc’s are definitely ooc but i just need him so bad so i’m feeding my own delusions.

warnings: nothing much, just my first time writing smut hc’s😭

synopsis: pre-borderlands hc’s! also this is LONGGG, i have too many thoughts.

smut hc’s are definitely ooc. realistically he’s gonna be a nervous wreck but let me pretend.

not proof read

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♡ pre-borderlands

♡ he’s a loser, you know it, he knows it, his friends know it, and his father definitely does. but it makes him all the more endearing.

♡ he’s so, so nervous at first, but once you both grow more comfortable in your relationship he’s giving into your every wish, genuinely at your beck and call. you’re his whole world and he just wants to make you happy <3

♡ he’s a little gamer! mainly pc (unfortunately, i’m a ps5 girly) but he knows his stuff. definitely uses emulators to play games like resident evil and the last of us.

♡ he prefers online shooters and stuff, but he doesn’t mind story based games if they’re more action based, like re4.

♡ i think he’d prefer a girlfriend who doesn’t mind video games (or loves them like him) so you can play together and talk about games :(

♡ would definitely emulate it takes two on both his pc and yours so you could play together, it’s such a cutesy little couple game! you guys would have a blast playing together! :(

♡ if you had a console best believe he’s using it for at least an hour every time he’s over, won’t admit it’s better than his PC but you both know it’s what he’s thinking.

♡ loves it when you sit in his lap while he plays :( and you love it too.

♡ arms wrapped around your waist as he rests his controller on your thighs, chin on your shoulder as he plays, but he always gets distracted, giving you the attention you want so easily, kissing your neck gently, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs and hips as he whispers in your ear.

♡ i can’t imagine he uses pet names often, if he does they’re classics like ‘baby’ and ‘babe’.

♡ “Baby, you wanna hop on call for a bit?” he texts you at least once a day every night you aren’t together, he ends up screen sharing a movie or show you can watch together.

♡ is also a boyfriend that makes you watch him play i’m so sorry but he just is. you see him rage far too often over COD.

♡ loves it when you call him ‘honey’, just does it for him.

♡ he’s a nerd so that definitely extends to different parts of his life other than video games, when you go shopping you always end up browsing new posters, figurines, and mangas.

♡ AOT is my favourite anime/manga so i’m gonna hc that it’s his too! ;)

♡ his favourite character is eren. without a doubt, just thinks he’s so cool, and absolutely loses his mind when he sees him turn into the attack titan for the first time, “Babe! Fucking look, that’s so cool!-“

♡ thinks you’re so pretty. while girls loved karube, the same couldn’t be said for him. in the show he’s in his 20s so i won’t say he’s a virgin, but definitely not super experienced.

♡ just can’t believe he has a girlfriend as pretty as you, no matter what you look like, goth, emo, a girl who loves to dress up and wear makeup, or if you prefer dressing down he thinks you’re so stunning.

♡ “you’re the prettiest girl ever.” (literal heart eyes)

♡ “your makeup looks really nice, baby :)”

♡ *stares at you in the mirror while you brush your hair.*

♡ “baby can you play a game with me, i’m bored :(.”

♡ dates are super lowkey! but you both love it that way.

♡ walks in parks, cinema dates, shopping dates, lazy days on the couch or in his bed watching movies are the most common ones.

♡ he does splurge on an actual restaurant for anniversary’s and valentines and your birthday with whatever little money he has.

♡ dresses up on those days too! He’ll wear a plain black shirt or white button up (whatever is more appropriate) instead of a graphic tee and some nice jeans or black slacks (he steals them from his brother.)

♡ for gifts he also keeps in lowkey, and so do you! you both can’t afford much so you just appreciate what the other gets you.

♡ he gets you little figures and posters he thinks you’ll like, or plushies! if you like makeup he’ll splurge a tad and get you a nice lipgloss you said you’ve been wanting.

♡ is definitely a boyfriend who gets gifts catered to your interests and things you like rather than buying you stuff he thinks all girls like.

♡ just over all very thoughtful, sweet, and very very handsome even though he refuses to believe it.

♡ pre-borderlands smut hc’s

♡ isn’t a virgin, but not experienced. one or two bodies before you i’d guess.

♡ let’s talk abt his dick 🤭

♡ he’s above average, but not insanely big. 6 inches, decently girthy but not so much so that it would hurt. it’s so pretty. a perfect size, two toned, a few veins and perfectly straight.

♡ i see far too many people hc him as a sub, but i honestly don’t see that, he’s neither and doesn’t have much of an interest in power dynamics

♡ you’re his equal, his baby, why would he wanna control you in anyway? :(

♡ such a titty guy. he is’t picky about size, but loves the way yours sit so pretty.

♡ soft pecks slowly grow into heated and lustfully heavy touching above your clothes, his big hands and lithe fingers shyly manoeuvring under your top. Inching their way up your soft flesh, they always find your breasts, caressing them gingerly as he softly loves on you.

♡ positions are nothing crazy, he loves classic missionary sometimes, just staring into your eyes, watching your face contort as you whine and moan. god you just look so good.

♡ but he also loves prone bone, getting you on your stomach, sliding himself in, slowly, almost torturously so. he fills you to the hilt, groaning into your ear softly as your bodies press together, sharing their warmth. he props himself up on his elbows, thrusting into you gently and slowly. he wants to savour every moment. without a doubt, he always brushes your hair away from your face, putting a large hand under you chin to crane your neck around to him, kissing you slowly as he fucks you into the mattress.

♡ bro LOVESSS head. like so bad. he loves giving, of course, he’s never been much of a ladykiller, so knowing he’s able to please you drives him mad.

♡ but he’s always down for you to suck his dick. he prefers laying with his back propped against the headboard, letting you work away. with a hand gripping your hair, or caressing the back of your head, and his other hand behind his own head, his mouth agape and eyes fluttering closed.

♡ on certain days, he thrusts up into your mouth, but poor boy always ends up feeling a bit bad :(

♡ ohgod and his fingers.

♡ long, lithe, slender. his hands are dexterous, soft and not overly calloused. anytime he uses them on you, he has you laying beside him whilst he leans over you, pumping them in and out, his thumb giving all it’s attention to your clit.

♡ the dirty talk is light, just filled with praise and light teasing

♡ he’s just too soft with you, he could never degrade you in the slightest.

♡ “attagirl, baby.”

♡”doing so good f’me.”

♡”you look so pretty, baby, my pretty girl.”

♡”makin’ me feel so good.”

♡ and just strings of curses as he praises and loves on you

♡ he’s just too good to you :(

[takumiraine]

Once Upon A Time chapter 5

<first> <prev> <next>

Jason Todd knew it was only a matter of time until his bubble burst and one of his brothers found out what he was getting up to. He was just hoping he could pull it off for a little longer. Even though the pit still reacted at the strangest times, he felt calmer, more normal, than he had in years. He wanted to hold it close and make sure nobody could take it from him.

From Replacement: you went back to college? Does B know?

Fuck.

—

Danny had been wary at first. Rich boy Jason Todd-Wayne in his college classes. The man was older than Jazz, though not by much, and a freshman with him. Either the guy was a bad influence or Danny just had really shitty luck.

He and the universe both knew the answer to than one really. But 60 bucks a week to reteach the guy basic math and Jason always gave him dinner in the deal? Danny wasn’t going to look that particular gift horse in the mouth. If there was one thing Danny had forgotten during the past almost two years it was how hungry his human side got. Not having money and being on the run meant opportunities to eat were few and far between.

What Danny didn’t expect was how sarcastic and assholish the rich guy could be. He loved trading snark. Danny assumed that it came from them both having older siblings. But between that and the half formed core that was slowly shoring up, Danny found himself growing attached. He had missed having friends. Getting to talk to Sam, Tucker and rarely Jazz through a conspiracy message board wasn’t enough. Most of the time it was just a way to make sure that nobody had been captured by the GIW. They had a way to pass longer messages but to do that too often would be suspicious.

“So I don’t get it,” Danny said, gesturing at Jason with some fries almost a month into tutoring, “What do people actually do at Galas? The tabloid pics just show a bunch of people in uncomfortable looking suits standing around with champagne.”

“….thats really it. It’s boring as shit.” Jason kicked his chair back on two legs, leaning against the wall. “If I liked you less I’d invite you.”

“If you liked me less?”

“Oh yeah. Because then you’d have to meet my brothers, the assorted not quite adopteds, my dad and scarier yet, our butler.” Danny choked on his laugh.

“Your butler is the scary one in that situation?”

“Alfred is like a ghost. Always there when you turn around.” Jason put on the accent “Master Jason, you really must come home more. Nobody quite enjoys my cooking like you.” He let the chair legs settle on the floor. “Now imagine that from behind you in a dark kitchen at two am while you’re half drunk and trying to make a sandwich.”

“Okay, yeah, I could see it being that scary. My sister was….” Shit he hadn’t meant to mention Jazz. “She was the only one who cared sometimes.” May as well rip that bandaid off.

“Yeah?” Jason asked, taking a drink from his coffee cup. “Didn’t know you had a sister.”

“My family and I don’t see each other anymore. It’s for the best.” He hoped Jason wouldn’t ask more questions, because ‘my parents sold me out to the government that only knew where I was because of the Justice League which is why I hate them and by association your dad, and now my sister is in hiding in a different state with a new identity’ was way too difficult to explain. “I left before they could kick me out.”

Danny watched Jason’s face twist into a frown. “Bigots suck. Sorry man.”

“Yeah…. Well…” Danny busied himself with finishing his burger. Then, once he chewed and swallowed. “Wait. Is your dad the one that fell into the champagne tower last year?”

Jason groaned, “he’s not always like that I promise.”

“No I get it. A weird ‘Family Friend’ invited us to his fancy party so he could hit on my mom once. I accidentally on purpose took out the entire buffet table including a cheese fountain so we had to go home.”

“Cheese fountain?”

“You know those chocolate fountains?” Danny asked. Jason nodded. “Like that, but with fondue cheese instead. And before you ask why, all I can say is it was in Wisconsin.”

Jason watched him with an unreadable expression for a moment, and Danny assumed he was processing it, because when the expression broke, Jason was laughing.

He looked so much younger when he laughed like that, and Danny remembered that they had both had, in their own ways, a rough life. “Yeah. I know. I was finding cheese in the weirdest places for weeks.”

“Did you get invited back?” Danny’s heart ached with the fact that a month or so later, Everything Fell Apart.

“No… I…” he cut himself off, remembering the horrified looks his parents gave him as their weapons, the ones he fixed, were turned against the ‘beast’ that ‘possessed’ their son. The looks mimicking the ones they gave him when the party screeched to a halt as he did his best impression of a Scooby Doo villain being unmasked. The screams of shock turning into ones of horror. The -

“-anny? Danny?” He blinked and shook his head.

“What? Oh, sorry.” He took another drink from the coffee, emptying the cup. “No. I never was asked back. You done?” He looked at their empty plates and grabbed the tray. “We should get to the library. Though I’m sure someone as good looking as you has plenty, these x-es won’t find themselves.” He was overcompensating for zoning out now, words coming out faster than normal.

“Yeah… are… you okay?” Jason asked, as Danny bussed their tray and grabbed his backpack, a backpack bought by his tutoring money. A tutoring gig he desperately did not want to fuck up with his own bullshit.

“Me? Fine. More than. I just zone out sometimes. Come on.” Danny’s words were still coming out too fast. He took a few breaths during the couple seconds Jason took getting his things, trying to ground himself as much as possible. He was going to be normal. He was going to be normal if it killed him. Again.

The walk to the library was quiet and Danny was thankful for that. He needed to get his head on straight if he was going to be any help to Jason and he still had his own homework to do after. As they walked in, both Danny and Jason instinctively looked towards the desk where Barbara usually worked, but she wasn’t there, some other guy was checking in books with quiet beeps.

Danny had learned over the last month that while Dick, Tim and Damian were Jason’s official siblings, Barbara was an unofficial one and he liked her the most.

It made sense, since she didn’t seem to pry into Jason’s life the way Jazz would have if she was here. Not that he would have minded her prying for how much he missed her, but four years ago he would have hated it.

—

Jason knew the haunted and hunted look that had settled into Danny’s eyes. The way he trailed off into something vacant. How his breathing seemed to get stuck in his chest. Which is why he tried to interrupt the cycle before he could spiral. Something big happened to him, and Jason knew he wouldn’t want to break down in a cafe in front of people.

Thankfully he seemed to snap out of it quickly, instead overcompensating into energetic. The message was clear. ‘Don’t ask about what just happened.’ Carefully, Jason let Danny lead him into the library, aware of his positioning and making sure not to follow too far behind or loom too much. Considering he had at least six inches on Danny, that last part was hard, but he tried.

He could feel the pit spiraling in him, circling and coiling like a dragon deep in his chest. Itching to do…. Something. It wasn’t punch or claw or fight. This was new. He didn’t like it in the slightest.

He looked over to where Babs usually was, then remembered she had a class, criminal justice degree, how apt, as he and Danny went towards what was now their spot. Jason found he had the sudden impulse to pull Danny’s chair out for him, and shoved that particular useless idea back down into the abyss it belonged in.

—

Danny looked over at Jason who stood at the edge of the table looking…. Angry? Confused? and pulled out his own books. “I promise, my zoning out isn’t contagious.” He said, looking up at Jason and kicking the chair across from him out from under the table for Jason to sit. He gave a wry smile, “if it was, I don’t think anyone in my high school would have made it.”

Jason snorted a laugh, snapping out of whatever thoughts he had been thinking. Jason pulled the chair out further and sat, sitting more comfortably than he used to. More of the true Jason, Danny was realizing, less of the person he was supposed to be. In another lifetime…. But no. He couldn’t… not while he was being hunted. It wouldn’t be fair to Jason to have to hide such a huge part of himself and his past.

Not to mention he hadn’t ever come out to Jazz and his friends. Well he had…. But more in the ‘hey I’m dead but not really’ way and less in the ‘so I like guys’ way.

But in spite of those barriers, this tentative friendship with Jason was enough to keep him happy.

Which made the next kick in the teeth from the universe completely expected.

All he had wanted was to walk home in peace. Sure it was almost midnight, in Gotham, but still. He made it most of the way, and was slinking through the Bowery when it happened.

Guys with dark clothes and weapons were suddenly in front of him. He turned only to see more at his back. There had to be five in total? Or was it six? Danny didn’t have time to count.

“Hey guys.” He hedged, muscles tensing as he raised his hands to show he wasn’t a threat. “Don’t mind me, I’m just trying to get home. Long walk and all that. If I could just…. Scooch past you?” Danny took a step to do just that and the lead goon swung at him with a baton.

He hopped back slightly, dodging the hit when it came. “Not a chance. Boss needs some…. Help with his latest ideas. You’re coming with us.”

Danny ran through his options in his head. Option 1: get kidnapped. Option 2: get the shit kicked out of him. Option 3: beat the shit out of them and get labeled as a possible bat to be or possible rogue to be. Option 4: go fully ghost and either escape unscathed but wind up more firmly on the GIW’s radar.

Option two or three would wind up happening, because he wasn’t going to put himself at the mercy of the Bat-ass again, and he wasn’t going to offer himself up on a silver platter to the GIW.

The moment one tried to grab him, Danny dodged out of the way, and that seemed to bring the goons on him en masse. They seemed well practiced, but considering it was Gotham, there wasn’t a big surprise there. The next few minutes were a flurry of elbows and knees, punches and kicks, batons and clubs.

Danny would dodge and counter, disarm one and fling their weapon across the street. He would have sore ribs and bruises from his elbows to his knuckles come morning but he was slowly winnowing them down. He had a brief thought about the conservation of ninjutsu, as the fewer goons there were the stronger they seemed to get. The realistic answer was they were less concerned with hurting each other when there were fewer of them, he knew that. But everything was more fun with ninjas.

When there were three left, one threw a punch that connected with his nose. There was a pop and crunch and a hot rush of blood down his face even before the pain set in. He spat out the blood that collected in his mouth from the way his head snapped back when he was punched. Another one came at him, and his own years of training caught the guy’s arm, judo throwing them into another look and sending them both careening into a wall. The move was trickier with gravity, but he made it work.

Danny looked up at the last remaining goon. He grinned, teeth too sharp and stained with his own blood, eyes glowing just the faintest green. “Run.”

They did.

Unfortunately for the goon, they ran smack into the chest of one Batman.

[blaircmorgan]

Numbers in ACOTAR

This is the first time I'm sharing a theory of mine... I had posted this before on tiktok and Instagram (November 24th, 2023) I am reposting it bc I wasn't satisfied with the layout and it wasn't as detailed as this one. Oh and also English isn't my first language so pls don't mind if theres anything wrong in the grammar or if im bad at explaining xx

There will be SPOILERS for the entirety of ACOTAR series and House of Sky and Breath aka HOSAB!

SJM is known for using numbers like 3, 7, & 13 as symbolic constants in her worldbuilding. They’re familiar, but they’re also intentional. She uses these numbers like most fantasy authors.

However, there are some additional numbers that she has used, which are unusual of her to use and that make them stand out. Let’s take a look at these numbers:

21 & 5

In ACOSF chapter 56 (I will get back to this number later on) Gwyn gifts both Nesta & Emerie a book at Solstice. She tells them both to look at chapter 21 and page 5 (will come back to this number too).

She then tells us that this chapter is about the Valkyries death & Rebirth (aka herself, Nesta and Emerie).

“At the top of the first page, it merely said, Chapter Twenty-One.”

Notice how Twenty-One is written in cursive? Coincidence? I think not. SJM wanted us to notice this.

I noticed the unusual use of number 21 & 5. This was the first time SJM had used these numbers, so I did as Gwyn said. I checked chapter 21 and page 5 of each ACOTAR books to see what the key points of each chapter and page were. Then I also did some research on the number (21) itself as well.

Symbolism of 21

The number 21 in literature isn’t just a number. The number has been found in various works like art, mythology and literature. The number has been used to serve as a symbol of “completion, transition, or personal growth.”  More so the number has also been used to portray “characters’ coming-of-age, spiritual evolution, or a turning point in the narrative.”

As we hear from Gwyn, she made Merill add the Valkyries in a book, in chapter 21. We see that there is a turning point in the narrative with the Rebirth of the Valkyries.

The number is also used in the Bible. It is associated with resurrection. Death and Rebirth.

Now let’s ask ourselves this: Which two characters are associated with Death & Rebirth in ACOTAR?

Answer: Azriel & Elain

“I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife.” - A Court of Wings and Ruin

(Fawn symbolizes Rebirth)

CHAPTER 21

ACOSF

In ACOSF chapter 21 we see Nesta having a conversation with Elain. The conversation is about wether or not Elain should be scrying for the Dread Troves.

Elain wants to do it, but Nesta doesn’t want Elain to do it. With this they have an argument and Nesta says:

“Look at who decided to grow claws after all (...) Maybe you’ll become interesting at last, Elain.”

“Find me when you wish to begin.”

We see that Elain doesn’t want to just sit and be quiet anymore, she wants to do more, be more involved with helping. There is a turning point in the narrative here and perhaps even a hint at who the next book is about

Let’s also not forget the Feysand bonus chapter is right after chapter 21 so it could count as 21.5 & Feysand talked about Elain: “Let’s focus on helping one sister before we start on the other.” A hint to say  we will first read about Nesta, then Elain.

“I think she’s kind, and I’ll take kindness over nastiness any day. But I also think we haven’t yet seen all she has to offer (…) Don’t forget that gardening often results in something pretty, but it involves getting one’s hand dirty along the way.” “And thorn up by thorns” - Feysand Bonus

Feysand are talking about how there is more to Elain than we know.

ACOTAR

In ACOTAR chapter 21 we see Feyre at Calanmai.

“Everything about the stranger radiated sensual grace and ease. High Fae, no doubt. His short black hair gleamed like a raven’s feathers, offsetting his pale skin and blue eyes so deep they were violet, even in the firelight. They twinkled with amusement as he beheld me.”

This is the moment Feyre meets Rhys. This is the moment where we the readers get introduced to him as well. With Feyre meeting Rhys, there becomes a turning point in the story and as readers we knew Rhysand was going to have a bigger impact on Feyre’s story.

ACOMAF

In ACOMAF chapter 21 we see Feyre at the Weaver’s cottage.

“I froze, the ring now in my pocket of my jacket.”

Feyre gets the ring Rhysand’s mother had given to the Weaver. Rhys’s mother had said only his bride would be able to retrieve it from the Weaver (Which Feyre ofc did) and this ring ends up being Feyre’s engagement ring. Rhys had told Feyre about the ring after she had retrieved it. When they got engaged this ring was important (It’s even on the cover of ACOMAF). Feyre become the first High Lady wearing this ring. A turning point in the narrative; High Lady of Night Court.

ACOWAR

In ACOMAF chapter 21 we see Nesta is starting to train her powers (after being Made) with Amren. Not only that, but we also find out that Feyre is going to the Prison.

“To find my sister and Amren. To see which of them was still standing after their first lesson” “The fewer people who knew about my trip tomorrow to see the Carver, the safer it was”

Nesta training with Amren becomes important for Nesta’s character arc in ACOWAR, but it also becomes important for ACOSF. It also can be seen as a hint given by SJM about Nesta potentially getting her own book (Which she eventually got and again her training her powers were important.

And with Feyre going to the Prison, we get a climpse of Feyre’s future. The Bone Carver shows himself as her son to Feyre.

ACOFAS

In ACOFAS chapter 21 we get into Cassian’s POV for the first time (If we don’t count Wings and Embers). We see that there is something going on between Cassian and Nesta (hinting on the next book is theirs as SJM said; She put breadcrumbs in ACOFAS for the upcoming spin-off books in this book)

“He remained staring after her, that present in his hands. Cassian’s fingertips dug into the soft wood of the small box. He was grateful the streets were empty when he hurled that box into the Sidra.”

Cassian throws away the gift he had gotten for Nesta as she rejects it. This gift was important enough for Cassian to give to Nesta, but when she rejects it, he gets rid of it (seems familiar to another moment right?) The gift gets brought up once again in ACOSF.

(Added: Oh, I just remembered this; let’s not forget Feyre’s birthday is on the 21st of December! And she is 21 when she gives birth to Nyx! Again, Feyre’s birthday was a turning point in the world itself, if Feyre hadn’t been born that day, Prythian could still have been under Amarantha’s rule. with Nyx’s birth, we get a turning point in Feyre’s story, she’s having her own family with her husband/mate and the kid is the heir of Night Court —> Next High Lord)

PAGE 5

Cassian throws away the gift he had gotten for Nesta as she rejects it. This gift was important enough for Cassian to give to Nesta, but when she rejects it, he gets rid of it (seems familiar to another moment right?) The gift gets brought up once again in ACOSF.

ACOTAR & ACOMAF

In ACOTAR, page 5 is where Feyre shoots the wolf (Andras) with her ash arrow. This becomes the beginning of the turning point in Feyre’s story. She shoots a Fae, which leads to her ending up in the Spring Court.

In ACOMAF, page 5 we see Feyre struggling and dealing after everything she had endured Under The Mountain. This also becomes a turning point in Feyre’s story, it’s important for us readers to see, to understand and feel with her. We see that she isn’t doing well mentally.

ACOWAR & ACOFAS & ACOSF

In ACOWAR, there isn’t any pages with the number 5 and that is because Part 1 of the book is there. The Part is called “Princess of Carrion” which is a title given to Feyre.

In ACOFAS, page 5 the twins Naula & Cerridwen get’s mentioned several times. (Who are they friends with? Elain. And who do they get trained by and work for? Azriel.)

And last but not least, ACOSF, page 5 does not exist once again. The fifth page is Part 1 of the book and the Part is called: “Novice”

Novice means: a person who has just started learning or doing something.

This is an indication to Nesta’s journey, her being a Novice in the beginning of her book.

NUMBER 56

(HOSAB SPOILER!)

Now let’s get back to this number before we conclude this whole theory.

Did SJM also give us a hint from HOSAB?

In HOSAB there is someone called BansheeFan56. Now look at the username/address once again... Number 56!

Again, this isn’t a number SJM typically uses and for some reason this number stood out and then I noticed something...

In what chapter did Gwyn give the Solstice gift of Chapter 21 to Nesta & Emerie? (and basically us)

Answer: Chapter 56.

I guess SJM do love to use numbers as a hinting tool

CONCLUSION

Now with everything we know about Chapter 21 & page 5, we can come to the conclusion of who the next book is going to be focusing on.

In ACOSF chapter 21, Nesta notices that Elain is growing. In the bonus chapter 21.5, Feysand talks about how they will focus on helping Elain, after helping Nesta. Nesta’s self healing journey has been written, but her journey may not be over yet. I do think we will see more of her, but I don’t think there will be huge focus on her again like in ACOSF.

It’s time for us to focus on Elain now and there is a lot to discover about Elain.

SJM did say each book in the spin off will focus on a couple and Nessian has had their book now, so I’m certain that Nesta won’t get another book or trilogy.

Numbers has become a pattern in the ACOTAR series.

3 brothers, 3 sisters, 3 stars, 3 peaks, 3 mountains, 7 courts, 7 High Lords etc, but now we can also add 21 & 5 into this.

Chapter 21 gives us a hint for something important that is happening or going to happen

page 5 shows us some turning points as well.

The 21st chapter becomes key to the book and the upcoming one. And the 21st chapter of ACOSF hints for the upcoming book to be Elain's and most likely have Azriel as the love interest since he got a bonus chapter in ACOSF, like Cassian got a bonus chapter in ACOMAF.

Plus both Bonus chapters are focused on Elain as well.

With all that said, I want to say thank you to my friends who has helped and supported me with this theory. And also thank you (reader) for taking your time to read about my theory about SJM’s use of numbers. I hope it makes sense for you guys as it does for me and I hope you enjoyed reading this <33

I also like to thank our Gwynie for giving us the hint that the next book is focusing on Elain <3

[rivalswrites]

Hi! Could you write about how Magik, Iron Fist and Bucky would react to their s/o being jealous? I‘m so happy there is finally someone writing for Rivals😭

Jealousy headcanons

Before you read, please be warned that I'm writing based on my impressions of them not only in the game (though it's the biggest inspiration), but some of them with the movies/shows in mind too.

Characters: Magik, Iron Fist, Winter Soldier

Masterlist

I apologize for how short or long they are, I can never get them the same length even if I try😭

Illyana is someone many could easily adore at first sight. She's beautiful, strong, and a sweetheart if you're close enough to her. She attracts both men and women alike with just her looks, but most seem to back off when they get to know her attitude- lucky you! But of course, there's always that one person.

Seeing you get jealous over her is very flattering. She sees it as proof of loyalty (not that she needed it), proof that you loved her just as much as she did you. And she thinks it's funny seeing you get your boxers in a twist due to some random person she could care less about.

It’s rare for her to stop you, she loves the attention and love you end up giving her during and after the person was around. If she liked your affection before, she loved it more during these moments- your grip on her arm that sat around your shoulders was comforting.

Of course, she tries comforting you, a rough hand on yours as she told you just how much she loved you, how much you were superior to everyone around the two of you.

To her, you were the only person that truly mattered in a room (other than her brother and some friends, but that's different).

He's very, very flattered when you get jealous. It's obvious you love him, you're dating him, but to genuinely not like someone because they showed interest in him? Yeah, he'd never get used to that.

Your glare and hold on him has him blushing, leaning into your arms and trying to calm you down. Again, while it flatters him, he doesn't want anyone to get hurt or even genuine hatred to be held.

Lin is a very handsome man, so it's obvious people will look and even try hitting on him, it's common for you to have to beat people off with a stick while out on dates. Not literally, but people come up to him so much you've both decided at home dates are the better option.

He's got no complaints, obviously.

He wraps his arms around you in return and pats your back, reassuring you no one has his eye than you, and it usually helps. His quiet assurances are sweet and calming.

It's rare he shares the same sentiment, getting jealous that is. He's very assured that your relationship won't break over a random person: not to say you aren't as well.

Your jealousy makes him feel special though, in a way he doesn't often feel. He's never had a full relationship before, sure a side thing here and there, but never an actual- full fledged- relationship, and your swooning and protectiveness over him has his cheeks flushing red and a dumb little smile growing on his face

First of all, Bucky rarely goes out, you'd have to drag him by his good arm- or else he'll just detach the metal one and stay in bed.

Second of all, it's very easy to tell that Bucky is a very, very, handsome man. Guys and girls alike can find something attractive about him, and damn if you didn't know it.

If you're hanging out at a pub don't be surprised if you come back from the bar or bathroom to find someone trying to hit on him; much to your amusement that he isn't paying any attention to them. But that doesn't mean you can't get jealous.

You'll slide into the seat next to him and crawl up to his side, pulling him in almost aggressively (which he doesn't mind at all) and cradling his face, asking him if he missed you. Usually that gets people to leave, but again- sometimes there's someone who thinks they're special.

He'll play along, adding fuel to your fire and leaning all his weight on you, his arms wrapping around your shoulders and enjoying your coddling. Something about being so bored without you will be said and tends to be all that's needed to get the person to leave.

But even then, he won't let go. He'll keep his arms around you and start teasing you, laughing quietly at your show of love over him. But don't take it the wrong way, he would do the exact same thing if the scenario was vice versa.

Your jealousy over him is heartwarming, reminding him that you really do love him just as much as he does.

And he uses people flirting every time he goes out as an excuse to stay in with you, laying on you like a blanket on the couch and watching whatever show you wanted: he'd be paying more attention to you anyways.

----

Taglist: @ihrtsamwinchester

I always forget to tag until after I post 😭

[novy2sirius]

random astrology notes volume 4

༄ ҉ tw: trauma and abuse - please do not read this post if you’re sensitive to any of these subjects and understand that astrology does not guarantee anything

༄ ҉ these notes are based upon isolated placements and aspects, so take these with a grain of salt and remember that the entire chart matters

☁️ every taurus i’ve met has been super shy in the beginning but then once i get to know them they’re one of the craziest people i’ve ever met. i think it’s crazy when i see people call them boring. if you think they’re boring it usually means they haven’t come out of their comfort zone around you yet. what i love about them is that they can be really fun but at the same time have a good balance of knowing when to be serious/chill as well

☁️ cancer suns are often good at understanding peoples emotions and if evolved this can be a good thing because they will have a sweet and caring nature. if unevolved though this could manifest as them trying to emotionally manipulate others and use their weaknesses against them

☁️ i’ve heard people say leo’s or sagittarius’ have the biggest egos but from my perspective it’s the pisces suns. i believe this to be true when they’re unevolved because the sun is associated with the ego and pisces is ruled by both jupiter and neptune. jupiter represents abundance and neptune represents delusion which means having an abundance of ego and extreme delusion in regards to your identity/self

☁️ libra suns daddy issues aren’t talked about enough. the sun is associated with the father and it’s in fall when in the sign libra. 7h suns can also have a hard time forming a close bond with their father because of this since the 7th houses natural ruler is libra, or they could have a father who was abusive in some way

☁️ pisces tend to do this thing where they try to heal everyone around them and have this mentality of “i can fix them”.. trust me you can’t fix everyone. it’s best to be with people who bring out the best version of you and help you grow as a pisces

☁️ everyone i know with a gemini moon in the 9th house is fucking hilarious. like i die every time i’m with them. they’re also just really friendly usually and i feel like i learn so much random things when i’m with them. some of these things may not even be useful but it still fascinates me

☁️ gemini/sagittarius risings typically have lots of hobbies. they usually dabble in everything and are happiest when they’re constantly doing something or learning new things. when they sit still for too long or isolate themselves they usually spiral into a depression from what i’ve seen

☁️ every person i know with a capricorn rising or capricorn rising degree (10°/22��) talks in such a classy and intelligent way. for example: ariana grande, olivia rodrigo, jenna ortega, etc. they come off as old souls to me. a lot of them have dry humor as well

☁️ gemini/virgo placements make really good mental health advocates and are good at relating to others and making them feel like they’re not alone. especially if these signs are in their big six

☁️ everyone talks about mars/pluto in 1h people coming off as intimidating but chiron in 1h people be scaring me too sometimes. i don’t know what it is. some people say chiron has no effect on appearance but when in the 1h i’ve noticed it does make someone have an rbf and seem like they’re judging everyone when they’re not

☁️ venus at 27° can indicate being attracted to really intelligent and spiritual people. the downside is sometimes it can bring challenges in your love life due to numerology. 2 doubles the energy of any number it’s next to and 7 is the most challenging number when it comes to romance. this isn’t because anything is wrong with people that have this placement but because people with this placement are often extremely misunderstood by others. even when it comes to their platonic connections

☁️ placements that are at 1° in your chart can show areas in which you may be more immature or have a lot of growing to do. someone having more than two of these degrees could indicate anger issues and having a big ego if the person is at a lower vibration in life

☁️ the sun/uranus at 5° can indicate someone who’s a daredevil and loves having fun and doing a lot of crazy shit. random but they always have the weirdest kinks also

☁️ chiron can tell about your traumas. for example: having it in the 9th house can indicate having deep spiritual wounds involving religious trauma

☁️ juno to jupiter synastry is not ideal in my opinion considering jupiter (zeus) in mythology cheated on juno. more ideal marriage asteroids would be orpheus (3361) to eurydike (75) synastry because orpheus in mythology literally crawled into hell for his wife eurydike. if these asteroids are conjunct, sextile, or trine in synastry it can be very beneficial for a relationship and indicate loyalty as well as the man’s willingness to do anything for the woman

☁️ the fama asteroid (408) tells the specifics of someone’s fame and what it’s like for them as well as drama they tend to get into when famous. for example: hailey bieber and justin bieber have fama to venus synastry and they’re a famous couple but there’s lots of drama surrounding their relationship as well

☁️ venus in the 12th house in composite is so underrated. i see such beautiful couples with this placement. it typically indicates a couple having a deep spiritual connection and possibly knowing one another in multiple past lives. there is the possibility of an obstacle involving delusion in the relationship if there’s harsh aspects to this placement though

☁️ hot take: if you think 6th house energy in synastry or composite is boring it’s likely because you enjoy toxicity or crave someone who acts uninterested in you (at least a little bit). 6th house energy creates the desire to constantly be doing things for one another and helping each other. it makes you want to constantly improve the relationship together. at worst it usually only means being judgmental or critical of each other, but this is typically for the sake of wanting improvement to occur in the relationship or having concern for the other person about something

☁️ a 10th house stellium in composite isn’t always related to being work partners, doing things for the public, or being famous together. the 10th house is also associated with responsibility and stability. this stellium can create a long term relationship/friendship where two people bring out the more humble and responsible sides of one another because of this. at worst it could create a dynamic where one person feels like the other is too bossy and acts like their parent

☁️ having your venus in the 10th house in a relocation chart can mean being more likely to gain success and wealth in that specific location. you could possibly meet lovers through work as well or socialize a lot more in that area. you could even possibly become famous there for something involving the arts such as acting/theater, singing, dancing, painting, etc

☁️ in my personal opinion i think sun lines really are the best lines to live under in your astro world map. there isn’t a lot of cons to them besides maybe having an ego death or obstacles involving the ego in general. other than that these lines can show locations where we’re happiest, attract success, feel most confident, and can gain lots of popularity or even fame

☁️ living under your sun and pluto line in your astro map at the same time will cause you to have lots of ups and downs with happiness. one day you could feel on top of the world and the next you could feel like you wanna reincarnate into a rock instead of going on

☁️ living under a moon zenith on your astro map can be challenging emotionally if your soul is at a lower vibration at the time. you could experience lots of depression or feel more sensitive in a location with a moon zenith. if you’re at a higher vibration this zenith can bring lots of creativity and help your soul grow emotionally though

☁️ your D9 chart in vedic astrology can give hints about what your spouses name will be

☁️ in 2026 people born under the horse vietnamese zodiac will have a beneficial year or learn a very important lesson that helps them in the long run. since it’s a 1 universal year people born under the horse year are especially likely to become more confident this year and have lots of important new beginnings in their life

☁️ in 2027 people born under the ox vietnamese zodiac should lay low. this is because it’s their enemy year and typically in our enemy year either bad karma strikes or we must learn really challenging lessons. as long as you’re a good person this isn’t a negative thing though

☁️ in 2027 people born under the goat vietnamese zodiac will have a beneficial year or learn a very important lesson. since this is an 11 universal year people born under the goat are especially likely to becoming more spiritual this year or gain fame during this year

[larluce]

Merlin traveling back in time to save Arthur AU but with a twist!!

Merlin makes it to the sidhes, bringing a barely breathing Arthur with him. As expected, they ask for a price and Merlin offers his life, ignoring Arthur's protests.

Sidhe1: You're inmortal you can't die

Sidhe2: And even if you could, killing you would mean killing magic itself, therefore killing the earth itself.

Merlin: (crying desperate) I don't care! Take what you need! My blood, my magic, anything! Just save him!

Sidhe1: (smiling evily) I might know just the thing.

They never tell him what are they going to take from him, but he agrees. The sidhes start the ritual, while Arthur just keeps pleading weakely

Merlin: (smiling) If I somehow don't come back-

Arthur: (crying) Stop! Merlin don't do this. Please!

Merlin: I just want you to know that I love you.

Before Arthur can answer the ritual ends and Merlin blacks out.

When he wakes up he is in his way to Camelot in his old clothes and 10 years younger. He soon discovers he's been brought back to the very first day he met Arthur. He's confused. Have the Sidhes taken from him years of his life as a price? It doesn't make sense to him, but he decides to take advantage of this to prevent some things from happening.

Time goes by and while, in general, all events are repeating, not everything is happening as he remembers. Some people arrive in his live early, like Lancelot or Gawain. And Arthur treats him better? Like he says thank you to him more often and listens to him more. Merlin thinks it’s weird, but brushes it off thinking it’s due to the changes he's been making that some things are not quite the same.

Then the day comes when he finally reveals his magic to Arthur. He cries and Arthur hugs him telling everything its okey. Nothing its going to happen to him. Shortly after however Arthur also has a confession.

Arthur: I already knew.

Merlin: What?! Since when?

Arthur: the very start.

Merlin: How? I've been careful! More careful than before!

Arthur: Because you told me before. Well, not really before, but in the future. It’s complicated.

Merlin: Wait... you are from the future too?!

They are both surprised. They thought they were alone in this and it turns out they never were. Merlin cries all over again, apologazing for everything, for failing him, for not being able to save him, but-

Arthur: You did.

Merlin: ... What?

Arthur: You did save me.

Merlin: No, the sidhes tricked me. They sent us back in time-

Arthur: It was not them who did that. It was me.

Merlin: What... what are you saying?

Turns out what the ritual really did was turn Merlin into a small tree in exchange for saving Arthur’s life. A magic tree that would grow taller and taller and never die and whose ruts would expand making magic florish in the earth forever. Arthur of course was really upset after that. He demanded the sidhes to turn Merlin back but they only told him "what's done it's done" and that all he could do was pick the tree up before the roots growed if he wanted to move it elsewhere.

Arthur put the tree in a pot and brought it back to Camelot. Everyone was devasted with the news but they were also glad their king was alive and safe. No one blamed him, but Arthur always blamed himself. He repealed the ban as soon as he could and made sure everyone knew Merlin's involvement in the battle and later the other things he find out Merlin did for Camelot through Gaius. He made an anual event and a statue in Merlin's honor. Camelot slowly but surely welcomed magic again and became the most prosperous kingdom in the land.

Merlin: Oh...I don't remember being a tree.

Arthur: Yeah, I figured.

Merlin: But you repealed the ban! That's great! Magic was free again in the-wait... so why did you do all this if everything was fine? And how did you do it?

Arthur: Everything was NOT fine Merlin. You weren't there!

Merlin: (utterly confused) I was. As a tree.

Arthur: You know what I mean! You were there but you weren't. We mourned you but you were still alive. I kept you in that pot for longer that I should have because I wanted to keep you close all the time, yet looking at you was so painful... Gwen had to scold me into finally plant you in the garden so you could grow properly. I was broken inside, while trying to rule a kingdom. I kingdom we should have ruled together from the start!

Merlin: ...

Merlin: You're telling me you somehow traveled us back in time and throw away the golden age, your dream of uniting all Albion and all you worked hard for... just because you missed me?

Arthur: And because I couldn't say it back.

Merlin: What?

Arthur: That I love you too.

NEXT PART OF THIS AU HERE -> PART 2

[hamliet]

Jentry Chau Vs Netflix

So, I watched Jentry Chau Vs. The Underworld.

If you like beautiful (and unique) animation, complex storytelling, themes of coming of age and grief, and references to my favorite band (shout out NCT127), this is a story you should definitely check out. I would recommend it highly, even though I'm going to critique later on in this review.

Complex People and Complex Love

Gugu was a very complex character whom you could both hate as someone who was clearly manipulating Jentry in an almost unforgivable way after doing the unforgivable to her family. And yet, the series opening literally had Gugu sacrificing her life for Jentry, so no matter what was revealed, you always had to handle the uncomfortable reality that Gugu really loved Jentry.

And therein the series explored complexities in love and life, an understanding that comes with growing up and brings on its own grief. The people who raise us, our heroes, turn out to have their own lives and worlds too, their own motivations, that are often not exactly altruistic. We are not at the center of their world as much as we, as children, thought we were.

Jentry's wrestling with her relationship with Gugu was complex and interesting. The handling of Gugu's character was consistently the best in the series, and I loved it even if I'm still not sure I like Gugu. That's a good character--someone you're left pondering the legacy of.

Grief

Jentry working through her grief was a major theme of the series--grief for her parents, and grief for Gugu, not just in terms of her actually dying (which does happen), but in terms of her understanding of who Gugu was and who her parents were.

Jentry's grief journey contrasts with Gugu's grief for Iris and of course Cheng's for Xiao Lan. Which is why Jentry reaching out and healing her inner child through saving Xiao Lan was ultimately a beautiful way of handling her arc. She saw a child who was scared and didn't know what was going on, and destructive in that pain, and saved her.

If you look at the series, Gugu was scared and didn't fully understand the consequences of her actions and destroyed Jentry's family as a result. Kit was scared and didn't understand how to be human and was destructive in that pain.J entry too grieves Kit and projects that fear onto the possibility of losing Michael, which leads to a rift in their relationship. And some of that fear is not understanding who they wanted to be. To quote C.S. Lewis after the death of his wife:

No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. 

Grief and fear intertwine in many ways in Jentry Chau, including through Moonie allowing herself to be possessed by the Mogui to get her husband back. This also then leads to Gugu's second death.

Gugu's farewell at the end had me full-on sobbing. In a sense, Jentry's entire arc throughout the story is a symbolic way of working through her grief for Gugu, settling with her accepting via choosing to focus on Gugu's love for her, and carrying her memory on in a literal form (the necklace). After accepting Gugu loved her, Jentry loses her fear of the underworld and her powers, and her fear of losing the people closest to her as well.

A Soul Is What You Choose

Jentry's ultimate power isn't burning, but it's being able to see people for whom they want to be. Kit and being human. Ed and being scary. Michael and joining the band.

In a world where everyone, demon or human, is trying to be what they think they need to be, trying to please others, Jentry asks them to be who they want to be, to live how they want to live.

The Best Character and the Worst Writing: Kit

Kit is by far the most compelling character. He's continually sympathetic (while Gugu is somewhat not), conflicted, and torn between how desperately he wants to be human and the inhuman acts he believes he has to commit to be one. Plus, he doesn't understand what it means to be human, nor the complexities of human relationships.

The scene where he helps Jentry create a skinsuit is really a metaphorical sex scene--like fairly obviously. It isn't subtle.

It starts in a bedroom (and yes, animators know what they're doing when they choose setting and objects).

Then we have talking about looking under layers.

Then we have some yonic symbols and this.

Like. And he uses a knife (a traditionally phallic symbol), and the next thing we see is cloth falling... with literal the next frame being clothes (ie, clothes coming off).

Sticking a brush (another traditional phallic symbol) in a vat of wet paint (yonic).

Kit: I've never done this before. It's strange. Jentry: I stand by what I said in class. You do have a soul, and you're more human than you know.

Also note the hand clasped position.

It ends with them literally "becoming one" in Kit embodying a Jentry skin to help Jentry uncover the truth--in other words, they help each other be human.

Which is why what happens next really doesn't make storytelling sense, and is actually kinda offensive.

Love Triangle: What Not To Write

The love triangle pretty clearly was supposed to represent Jentry's links to the supernatural (via Kit) and her links to the human world (via Michael). Great potential for a love triangle, a trope I generally hate because it's almost never well done.

This was not well done. What makes it even more frustrating is that it had a ton of potential to be well done via the thematic and symbolic potential.

Having Kit suddenly go aggressive ex who can't take "no" for an answer was lazy writing, nonsensical within the characters they'd set up, and offensive. Offensive, primarily, because you absolutely should never introduce a triggering element like, oh, harassment and controlling men if you don't plan on dealing with it in the story. And they didn't. At all.

The only reason that element was there was to resolve the love triangle in a clear way--oh, Jentry should be with Michael because Kit acted threatening, even though he never had before. That's just bad writing, because if there's a clear choice in a love triangle, you gotta actually write it. Make Michael the more compelling love interest. (More on how they didn't do this later.)

The entire sequence with Kit makes no sense. Jentry tells him he's actually "hundreds of years old," parroting Tumblr-esque anti arguments about Twilight and every other paranormal love story ever. Except, the story had always explicitly framed Kit as a child being abused by Cheng and "parented" by puppets. His journey to understand who he was, that he mattered, that he could be a human too, was clearly a coming-of-age story.

You don't tend to end coming-of-age stories with death, but they did, pretty much because after the threatening scene there was no coming back.

Plus, Jentry's treatment of Kit actually was pretty bad. Now, there's never an excuse for a threatening ex, but--Kit was right about her hypocrisy in terms of how she treated demons like Ed and himself, something that Jentry isn't really asked to reckon with.

If they wanted Jentry to end up with Michael, that's fair, but her decision was taken away from her because they just decided to stamp Kit with a lazy and offensive development and then kill him off in a redemptive death that emphasizes everything that can go wrong with that trope.

Michael Deserved Better

I feel like they didn't know entirely what to do with Michael. He started off with a cool arc, torn between his desire to be a band geek and his talent for football. His indecision leading to conflict with Stella and Jentry was also a great flaw, especially given that he also has visions of the future. An indecisive teenager with precognition has a ton of potential.

But, Michael's arc vanishes after the festival. Instead he's just... kinda there. Jentry chooses him because she wants to be a normal, human girl. But this isn't a good reason, because she's not (and arguably, he's not either!). Yet this isn't unpacked--the idea that everyone in this triangle is both human and supernatural, to varying degrees.

One interesting idea I spotted during the scene where Kit (as Jentry) gets asked out by Michael is that--well, it's a romantic-coded scene with two men, even if Kit turns him down for Jentry.

But it also coming on the heels of the metaphorical sex scene kinda seemed to almost hint at a throuple. Plus the scene after Kit's death where Jentry views them as merging, and where Michael expresses that Jentry views them the same. This would have actually been a very interesting turn for the story to take in future seasons, if they get those (especially since Stella x Tokki is apparently a thing?).

Because ultimately:

Netflix: The True Enemy

Honestly, almost all of the writing flaws I've talked about come down to the writers just not having enough time. If they had a guarantee of further seasons, they wouldn't have needed to rush to finish the love triangle. They wouldn't have needed to kill Kit. They wouldn't have needed to abort Michael's arc and conflict with Stella.

And really, Netflix continues to disappoint me in emphasizing just how much they focus on profits and money over art. They prefer fast food over an actual nutritious meal. They give shows like one season to get record ratings and if they don't, they get axed. Of course writers are going to rush to cram their story into a single season, because there's no guarantee of another season. Series aren't given any leeway to explore their interesting elements, or to find their footing. It's bad for art. However, Warner Bros exists so Netflix can't fully win the crown for worst example of capitalistic corporations killing art just yet.

I continue to be disappointed that series with no actual story that the writers want to tell (merely a concept of a plan) get renewed for seven seasons based on the writer's reputations (that they then tank with their terrible non-writing) while interesting stories with beautiful art and animation, complex ideas on grief and growing up, have to scramble to beg for another season.

[lanalace]

Gifts Given [Yandere Merman x FemReader]

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Word count: 2,328

Summary: Nero Sol Nifan has waited for a mate for years while suffering from the madness that came as a side effect of the power he was bestowed. One day, he met you. His salvation. The only obstacle is that you were human. However, that was only an obstacle for you because he doesn’t plan to let you go.

Chapter 1 - Lost and Found

Life was a routine. Wake up, hunt, sleep and repeat. Occasionally the merman would share in song with the rest of his kind but that was it. He hated it. He was forever bored and life just felt mundane. Nero Sol Nifan was a 250 years old merman. He had reached maturity at 200 and had expected to find his mate within the first decade but no such luck. For a being so highly valued, it crushed his spirits. 

Most merfolk found their mates within the first decade of reaching reproductive age, so why hadn’t he? Every decade after that was just an insult to injury. It was an open wound that grew larger with each year that passed without finding his mate and he was becoming desperate, though he would never show it on the outside.

He was told by an elder that most unmated males felt this way at his age and that this was quite normal to feel anxious and desperate. But being unmated for years would start to dull the outlook on life and not a single female that has sought him out was his fated one. None so much as interests him. Every mermaid had a destined match, however that never stopped them from copulating until the day they found their mate.  He had both females and males fawn over him, within and outside of the mating cycles. But he rejected every single one of them. ‘If swimming to warmer waters was not ingrained in my biology, I would avoid it all together.’ Merfolk could enjoy each other's bodies whenever they pleased but only during mating cycles could offspring be produced and that's usually when most of his kind met their fated partner. 

He still held hope that he would be able to find his mate despite his age. So he made sure to always carry the betroval item in a white satchel around his hip, inside was a bracelet of brilliant large baroque pearls and shiny yellow gold spacers. It was of the highest quality and extremely rare/hard to acquire which is why he was the only merman to have such jewels grace his body and soon so would his person who he’d live out his days with. For now, having to watch the rest of his kind find their pair and their release in each other every year while he could not just enraged him. He was almost tempted to kill some of those pretentious merfolk. He could do so very easily but he decided against it. He could do it so very easily.

Nero Sol Nifan was the strongest, priding himself on becoming most desirable for when he found his future mate. Due to him not finding his mate for many cycles, he focused on honing his skill, reaching new heights that others previously could not. Now he was almost twice the size of a normal mermen, more muscular than the rest of his kind which would usually put him at a disadvantage for being so dense. It did mark him slower, however, that didn’t last long, he had trained his body night and day to be the fastest. Not only that, due to his intense training, he developed a power, a gift believed to be given from the great goddess of the sea. He had gained the ability to not only communicate telepathically with all sea life but he could also manipulate them freely to do his bidding. This made the fear, envy and love of him grow. He was like a God among his people.

Though his people viewed it as a gift, he couldn’t completely see it as such. Telepathy was a very useful skill to have but it was not within his control. It doesn’t turn off and more often than not, it was absolutely maddening. He was subjected to countless screams of pain, secrets he didn’t care to know, hatred, envy, unwanted depraved desires from unworthy mermaids. All of it was simply too much. As a result, he quickly began isolating himself, moving farther and further away from merfolk and into less populated waters. He was hoping distance might somehow help with the constant radio noise in his head. But he found it within an underwater cave, instead.

There cave was huge. It looked like an enclosed beach. There were bioluminescent fungi scattered along the ceiling and walls, giving the cave an almost magical feel. He looked at the beautiful glow of the cave, watching the pool leading to the ocean reflect off of the jagged walls. 

“Magnificent.” He said under his breath. He had never seen such a wondrous sight this deep under water. 

Nero Sol Nifan beached himself on the sandy floor of the cave, slipping his massive silver-white tail out of the water and curling it by his side. The moment he did that the noise in his head quieted down just a bit. It was still ever so present but it took the edge off. 

“Why is it that I was cursed by you, my goddess?” He spoke to the pool of water before him. He was expecting a response of some kind but was met with silence, the surface only reflecting his beautiful, milky face back at him. How he wished that he could go back to the time where he thought life was mundane. 

He sighed and laid himself down on a nearby rock that could pass as somewhat of a diving board. He was angry with the goddess, he cursed her name in his head and his hatred built for this deceitful deity who had taken his sanity. But he needed to rest. 

50 years later~

Nero Sol Nifan woke up to the sound of fish screaming in his head. He never got use to this day in and day out chaotic noise. He looked a little worse for wear since the days before his life became his own personal hell. His eyes looked dull, dark circles have taken up permanent residence under his eyes, tinged with red from the endless stress. His handsome face looked a bit haggard but that was not enough to take away much from his beauty. 

He dragged himself out of his cave and into the water. He hadn’t eaten in a few days, wishing to just parish within the walls of his cave. But today, something told him to go out. He didn’t understand the urgency amidst the buzzing chatter in his mind but he followed his instincts.

The white tailed merman swam out into the open ocean in search of his next meal. He felt uneasy today but brushed it off. It happened to be a rather dreary day, the waters were turbulent and a bit colder than normal while the world above was crying heavily. He knew that he could simply manipulate any fish to come to him and have an easy meal but he enjoyed hunting. It gave him a chance to release a small bit of the madness that he lives with daily on his prey. 

That’s when he spotted a school of red snapper fish. The bright color caught his sharp lilac eyes in an instant and he was off. Speeding quickly in their direction, with his large tail pistoling him forward. The smaller prey was easily more elusive than a larger catch but he made quick work of them. Keeping up with the fast changing paths of the snappers, he allowed the chase to go on a tad bit longer than necessary before slicing through the school with his massive claws, skewering 8 of them onto his claws. That was enough for a meal so he indulged right then and there as the rest of the school swam off. 

He was pleased, this meal would sustain him for the next two days. With a full stomach, the handsome merman lazily began his journey back to his cave. Had the water been steady today he would have basked in the rays of the sun instead. 

“Unfortunate.” He grimaced to himself.

He didn’t get more than a few feet away from his original position when he heard and unusual crash behind him. The white hair merman turned tin the direction of the sound and what he saw confused him

“A human?”

‘What was a human doing so far away from land?’ He thought to himself. There were no ships in the water, he would have seen it. Heck, he would have heard all the fish nearby chattering about it. His tired eyes landed on the sinking figure and his heart tightened. He felt something akin to panic start to take over him. It had been so long since he had felt anything outside of rage or pity for himself. He had the human in his arms before he even realized that he moved to catch her.And just like that, his world grew quiet. Nero Sol Nifan’s face grew into an incredulous look and his body trembled. 

“I can’t hear anything anymore.” His eye expanded in shock as he slowly looked down at the human in his arms and his grip tightened around the creature’s body. 

With a clear mind for the first time in ages, the merman blew a large bubble around the girl, encasing her within the translucent orb. He swam full speed to his cave, reaching there in record time. He pushed the bubble to the surface of the pool and burst it, catching the being and resting her on the crystal like sand. He brought his head to her face and listened carefully but no sound escaped those lips. 

“No!” He cried out. ‘I will not lose my salvation the moment I finally have it.’

 He gripped the creature's shoulder and shook hard a few times, noting how small and fragile you felt in his hands. Unfortunately, that did not work either. His panic rose because he thought that the human might have died so he placed his hand on its head.

“Still warm.” He whispered and that knowledge calmed him. Thinking quickly, he performed the maneuver that he had witnessed sailors use on their own kind on several occasions by pressing his palm on breast bone and applying pressure repeatedly. He was careful of his strength, knowing he could break such weak bones easily. It took about 30 seconds before the human's eyes flew open and it sat up, coughing up water.

‘It actually worked.  Thank goodness that I was able to preserve this human life.’ He sighed with relief. The merman eye the frail thing as it continued coughing and sucking in air, he could only see the back of its head from where he sat. ‘It looks so weak compared to the ship dwellers.’ His thoughts stopped there because that object of his quiet thoughts turned to face him and met his inquisitive gaze. 

The moment their eyes met, his cold heart froze. It was as if time stopped in that moment as he looked upon the tiny human. She was female, with thick, long h/c hair clinging to her face and back. Her dazzling e/c eyes sparkled like jewels with the tears she had yet to fully shed and a small coral pink lips that attracted he wished to touch. His heart started back up and it throbbed in his chest. He never thought his cold heart would beat for a human. His body felt so hot from the top of his cheeks to the base of his tail. 

‘What is this? My body feels so hot. Almost like it is mating season yet different. I feel drawn to this creature. Could this be my mate? Is this what all my suffering was for? To make sure that I was kept pure for this little human?’ It was uncomfortable but strangely pleasant. It was like nothing he had ever felt before but he decided he liked the feeling. It was exciting. ‘So this is my mate. I have cursed the goddess of the sea everyday for the past five decades because of this damned curse but she not only bestowed me with power, she also has gifted me this precious female. I am terribly sorry goddess I have wronged you and been ungrateful and undeserving. I will never look down on the blessing you have provided me again. I will never question you again.’ 

He was so caught up in his own inner thoughts that hadn’t even realized how terrified his tiny mate-to-be looked. She eyed him with fascination and great fear while she inched away from him. He didn’t like that one bit, narrowing his eyes, he yelled at her.

“Stay!” 

But the little female squealed in response, throwing her small hands out in front of her in defense. Her little scream sounded melodic to his ears. He found himself wanting to hear her talk to him so he spoke again, this time gentler. 

“Female, you are safe. I have saved your life. I will not harm you.” He reached a webbed hand out to her slowly, intending to wipe away the tears on her cheeks. But the girl flinched away and started speaking in a rushed manner. 

“Please don’t eat me. Please don’t eat me. I promise I don’t taste good. Even sharks don’t like people meat. So please just stay where you are.” 

He retracted his arm and gave a small smile endearingly. Due to all the excitement, he had completely forgotten the language barrier. He did not understand her at all but her voice was so pretty and soft that he instantly liked it. It suited her feminine appearance well. If she had had a tail, he wouldn’t even blink twice and acknowledge her as a beautiful mermaid just based on her appearance and voice. 

Fast as lightning, he snatched the human's outstretched wrist and pulled her to him. Before she could so much as scream, the merman pressed his lips to her. 

[Chapter 2 is out!]

[northopalshore]

So me and my gf met really young and haven't been together for so long and I know it is unrealistic to think that she's the one but astrology and destiny matrix call us soulmates all the time and even tho I know soulmates doesn't need to mean the one I end up with so I wonder, what are signs that you met the one young or in synastry or composite chart, what are indicators that they are "the one"?

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ For this question, it is a bit difficult to answer. Although there are many possible "the one"/ true love indicators in synastry & composite, I'd still say that the future is vast and we never really know until we get there for the most part. Still, here are:

"The One" placements

in romantic synastry & composite astrology

:¨ ·.· ¨:⠀Juno persona chart masterlist, Union persona chart masterlist

`· . ୨୧⠀Note that overall synastry & magnetism aspects outside of these are also necessary, but these placements are more like additional driving forces which can make you feel like you belong together or are literally a match made in heaven. Still, try not to be fully dependent on these aspects alone. Most of the context here will be in relation to marriage/long-term commitment.

⋆°.☾⋆.ೃ࿔*:⋆⋆°.☾⋆.ೃ࿔*:⋆⋆°.☾⋆.ೃ࿔*:⋆⋆°.☾⋆.ೃ࿔*:⋆⋆°.☾⋆.ೃ࿔*:⋆⋆°.☾⋆.☾⋆

♀ Personal planets in the 6th house (preferably Sun, Moon, Venus, Mars & Jupiter)

Shows that a couple is always together, and may continue to be together in the long-term. Quite common within married couples.

♀ Personal planets in the 7th house

Having a tie to them both romantically & contractually.

♀ Ascendant conjunct Juno/ Briede(19029) /Groom(5129)

Your partner embodies a lot of what you are attracted to in the long-term, the type of partner you want to have in your life.

♀ Boda (1487) conjunct Venus /Neptune

It can give you both a sense of completion where romance fills the room everytime you're with them. You reflect each other's ideal marriage life.

♀ Boda (1487) conjunct Boda (1487)

Having the same ideals when it comes to marriage, i.e on the same page. It can act as a booster for those already in love with their partner.

♀ Boda (1487) conjunct North node

In some way shape or form, this person will change your

♀ Moon conjunct/Trine North Node

Life with them feels natural. This is a very valuable synastry aspect in my opinion because your partner is able to understand your sense of destiny or see you for you. You will both feel like you were fated to meet.

♀ Vertex conjunct Boda (1487)

Can mean fated marriage, or at the very least they help form your idea around marriage

♀ Alma ( 390) conjunct Jupiter/Venus/North Node/Boda/Juno/Briede/Groom

This is more of a soulmate placement, but it can also contribute to feeling like you belong with your partner.

♀ Boda (1487) conjunct Jupiter

Marriage or commitment can feel natural with them, or it will make you feel like you're over the moon. It can often indicate a happy marriage with your lover too.

♀ Juno conjunct Jupiter

Jupiter is also a common form of commitment or the "husband" in most cases, but I think it works with any sexual orientation. A common indicator or marriage or at least feeling like you're just each other's type. It makes you more willing to commit.

♀ Juno conjunct Juno/Saturn

Being each other's type is one thing, but this is a placement that can show you being tied to this person through an invisible bond that only grows stronger with time.

♀ Sun conjunct Juno/ Briede (19029) / Groom (5129)

The sun often embodies the very traits that Juno/Briede/ Groom is attracted to (whether they realize it or not) and thus may feel strongly attached to the Sun person.

♀ Venus conjunct Juno

This placement can make both parties feel very naturally drawn to each other, both make great romantic partners and share the same ideals when it comes to love & expression of art. Can indicate long-term compatibility between the two of you.

♀ Vertex conjunct Briede (19029)/Groom (19029)

This is quite self explanatory. A fated marriage. At the very least, again with this placement you partner will change help solidify your desires in a spouse (or as a spouse).

♀ Vertex conjunct Juno

A contractual lover, often can indicate a long-term relationship & has that soulmate flair between you and your partner. This relationship has the ability to both stand the test of time but at the same time help solidify your view around marriage.

♀ Vertex conjunct Venus

Fated romance, love interests, feeling like this love is meant to be.

˚₊‧꒰ა paid readings available ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

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For those of you reading this & haven't met their long-term significant other (and is seeking them), you'll never truly know the next cluster of people that may walk into your life until you meet them. So keep an open mind about your future love interests & set aside that tunnel vision. The love that is mean for you will come when it's time.

Try not to attach a face to the "love of your life". As much as you may love them and they you, it's not your purpose to have them consume your every waking hour. You still have much to do, & much to learn don't you? Love will never be separated from man no matter what happens. We always yearn for it no matter what form it takes. It's just not healthy to plague yourself with their image, trust me I've been there.

"The one" to me, translates into an amalgamation of different details that somehow fit right beside you no matter how wonky it may look at first. Don't blame it on the stars, let the stars guide you.

Hope this helps ♡

@northopalshore

[ghelullu]

I have tried to sort my thoughts about Skeletá and mostly failed, but still wanted to talk about it because it’s such an interesting little big album already after only a handful of listens

tl;dr: I like it alot, it has some certified bangers on it, some songs didn’t fully land for me personally, I love the variety and his voice is amazing.

I think what stood out to me the most – apart from the very obvious and super cool 80s vibe going on (80s lovers WIN) – is the sheer variety of songs on it and how most of them did not sound the way I expected them to sound at all: Cenotaph was so much groovier and uplifting than I thought (looking back and knowing it’s about his brother, I feel like I should’ve seen that coming), De Profundis Borealis is less heavy than I thought (and hoped; insert the "I know it's not a black metal song" clip), Marks of the Evil one is just so much etc! And I do mean this as an absolute positive in a time where most successful music does not surprise us often anymore.

I totally applaud and respect him for not doing the easy thing: Making an album that follows directly down Impera’s path sound wise – that would have been safe, considering the commercial and critical success it had. Instead he took some of Impera’s (and Phantomime’s) sound, threw in some things from the old albums and a ton of stuff out of his Very Normal brilliant brain to mix something… well. Different.

It is not an album aimed to please people, it’s not targeted at his „old“ fans, not at his new fans from the last album, not at critics or whatever; it’s not a people pleaser album, in my opinion (I’ve seen people say it’s too „commercial“, gotta disagree; I think they just heard it's more „pop", not understanding how 80s Rock worked), but rather Tobias doing what *he* thinks fits, what he thinks needs to be done, what he thinks would be cool, interesting, fun.

While doing that he’s once again not afraid of things that are bordering on too cringe, too corny, too whatever. We’ve all seen that one Reddit review of Missilia Amori – but one thing about his music I really respect is how he can take stuff that wouldn’t work with other artists, would be painfully cringe, and make it work. Because with him it is (and comes across as such) intentional and well handled, often with a wink; he’s been doing that literally from the beginning, because he, unlike some people on Reddit, is capable of not taking himself and things *so* fucking seriously all the time.

He knows that things, art, music, yes, even Big Serious Metal, can just be fucking FUN. (Plus, have these people never listened to any bit of 80s Rock? Like, really?)

And there is so much going on in this album. Lyrics wise, yes, some absolute gold (the 3rd rider "looking cool" absolutely took me out, though), I won’t even touch on that here, because I haven’t studied them enough. But every song is very different: Different vibe, different themes, different *things* that make them stand out (something I LOVE about his music is how every song has at least 1-2 thingies, special, interesting melodies, intrument bits, vocal moments, whatever, that just scratch the brain right and make you come back again and again).

While there are many callbacks to his previous works (and obviously even way more to other artists; it's once again a loveletter of his to his favourite artists growing up), in my opinion it’s also the least „typical Ghost“ album to date; in a way it’s more a Tobias album, which is fine to me, and fitting, considering how incredibly personal it is – and a fun coincidence with the other Tobias album, Passiflora, having finally blessed our ears earlier this year. I think there are surprisingly many similarities? Obviously he has developed all of his skills enormously since, but… It was fun listening to both of these very personal albums back to back, highly recommended.

Lots of high praise, is it my new fave? It doesn’t beat Prequelle, my #1, at this moment in time, and I don’t think it will, even after multiple listens. It’s an album that definitely requires being listened to at least a dozen times. Many songs on it – on Tobias’ work in general – are absolutely required to be listened to multiple times before you can fully appreciate and connect with it (which is, i may add, a GOOD thing. He puts in so much stuff to discover!).

First of all, for me the ballads didn’t land. And this is mostly a personal preference, I am not a ballads person, they rarely hit for me (Life Eternal taking me out almost immediately was an outlier and to this day the Helvetesfönster – Life Eternal combo is the only music that ever made me bawl my eyes out). Both Guiding Lights (his vocals are so, so good) and Excelsis are objectively fantastic songs and I understand why people love them so much, but especially Excelsis is musically just a bit too much...I don’t have the right word...; the end however is wonderful (and circles nicely back to Life Eternal (and also Respite!))

I would have very, very, VERY much preferred a heavy song instead of one of these two. A Faith, a Mummy Dust, a Twenties, you know, some growls? The heavy riff in Lachryma gave me hope there’d be more in another song, but it’s fine, it’s his baby! I expected De Profundis to be the heavier song, but it turned out softer than i thought, but it’s still super fun and I think it will do a bit of a Watcher in the Sky, where it’s cool on the album and then FUCK live!

Speaking of live, many of these songs will shine live, as the 4 already played prove. The vocals on the album – SO good, so much variety! Sometimes he sounds like Ozzy, sometimes like Phil Collins, sometimes very Phantomime, the high notes but also more lower register, bless him (that was one of my big wishes), just great! – show that he’s experimented with his voice (despite talking shit about it all the time) a lot and that he has much more trust into his abilities to perform them live (with the reduced mask; and he’s already proven that; I cannot stress enough how incredible he sounds live now).

The instrumentals are fantastic, such nice guitar solos, the synths, the keyboard-guitar sex in Umbra is just 👌🏽, but really, they shine in all songs. And you cannot forget the Cowbell, bless him.

My favourite is Lachryma with the heavy guitars and the catchy pop-y chorus, followed by Peacefield (esp live) and Umbra; honorable mention Marks of the Evil one and Missilia Amori, and De Profundis

There is so much to love about this album; how personal it is for him, how much it feels like a big hug (and punch in the gut, followed by another hug tbh and of course some horny) from him to the world. How much growth both as a singer, instrumentalist, producer etc but also in his...presentation of himself and his art he has shown.

He doesn’t hide behind a full latex mask on stage anymore, but he also doesn’t hide his messages behind a mask of 3 layers of satanic lyrics anymore.

It’s in every way such a vulnerable, wonderful work and I’m very grateful he shared this with us

[illyrianbitch]

An Education in Malice — Part Six

Pairing: Vanserra!Reader x Azriel

Summary: With the sharp tongue of your notorious family, you are Azriel's most tantalizing challenge yet. It only takes one small meeting before you both realize that the line between hate and desire is dangerously thin.

Warnings: mentions and descriptions of wounds, scars, and allusions to torture, canon-typical violence, fighting, killing, death— all the fun stuff really. reader being a lil badass, az being emotionally vulnerable, a turning point in their relationship!!!!

Word Count: 9.8k this was originally going to be like 2-3 diff parts, but i loved reading it all as one, so consider this my lil offering since i disappeared for like 2 weeks <3

Part Five | Series Masterlist | Part Seven

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You always hated the ornate mirror that had stood in your room — its gaudy, gilded and tarnished frame was far too large for your liking.  You hated how much space it took up, how much of yourself you could see as you passed it. 

On most days, the female staring back at you felt like a stranger— someone wearing your face yet existing in a distant world. She moved when you did, blinked when you did, too. But she wasn’t you. And you hated it. So you didn’t often linger on your reflection. 

Except for today. 

Your hair was damp from the bath and a faint smell of sage and patchouli clung to your skin from the residue of your bath soap. 

Your eyes traced the lines of your face, following the tired shadows beneath your eyes and scars that marred the skin of your stomach. Normally, when you stood there with a focused gaze and a troubled spirit, it was because you were examining new wounds, cataloging the fresh marks left behind from nights where your father was particularly angry. All of those wounds were hidden beneath clothing, concealed where no one but you would ever see— carefully, strategically, placed. 

You’d gotten used to the marks, comfortable with them, even. There were many things in your life that weren’t yours. But these— these scarred areas of skin, these were yours. Proof that your body had worked to protect you, to fix and heal itself despite what had been inflicted unto it. And in some strange way, it made you feel less lonely. 

If it was any other day, you wouldn’t have looked any longer than a second, a minute at most. You’d walk past the mirror, change into a dress fit for an audience, and leave. 

Today was different. Today, your eyes were drawn to the intricate tattoo etched just beneath your left breast, wrapping around your rib cage. It was the first time you’d really looked at it, the first time you’d allowed yourself to acknowledge its presence since its creation. 

The tattoo was a delicate masterpiece, a swirling pattern of dark ink that almost resembled Azriel’s shadows perfectly— so perfectly it made you nauseous, made you flinch at the first sighting because it seemed too real.  It was beautiful, haunting, and undeniably meaningful.

It made you feel sick.

You traced the pattern with your fingertips, thinking back to how Azriel’s hand felt in yours, to the warm feeling you felt in your chest. You’d never made a bargain before— not even in Autumn. Perhaps all bargains caused this feeling you now felt, a sense of residue that your body held of him, as if you had crumbs of his being stuck to you. 

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. 

You turned to see Laney's ears twitch as she registered the sound. Whenever you showered, whenever you were naked and vulnerable at all, really, she always guarded the door heavily, never moving. The knock was so gentle that she didn’t growl; instead, she sniffed under the door, her movements growing excited— happy. You could tell by her posture that the visitor was no threat. Not only that, but the knock was delicate— patient, almost. You knew who it was by that fact alone. 

Scrambling, you hastily pulled on your clothes, trying to regain some semblance of composure as you blinked away the last remaining images of Azriel from your mind. 

The tension in your body eased as you opened your door. 

"There’s my beautiful girl."

A small smile tugged at your lips as you embraced your mother, feeling the warmth of her body fold over you like a comforting cloak. You held her for another moment, savoring the softness of her touch and her heartbeat beneath you, and then you stepped aside to let her in. 

Your eyes flickered to the back of the hallway she’d come from. 

Your mother caught your gaze swiftly. "He’s with some of his men. Drunk. He’ll be busy for the night."

You swallowed, trying to suppress the unease that settled in your stomach. She placed a gentle hand on your arm.

"It’s alright," she said gently, “Too drunk to even function.”

You hated that you knew what she meant, that you and your mother had grown to develop your own language regarding the males in your home—regarding the one that owned you both. Her words meant that Beron had an enjoyable day, one that filled him with enough joy to celebrate— that such celebrations were going to tire him so deeply that he’d fall asleep straight after. No issues for you, no issues for your mother. You nodded slowly.

Your mother stepped closer, her fingers brushing through your still slightly damp hair. "Let me braid this mane of yours," she said softly, her touch light as she affectionately stroked your cheek. You casted a wary glance behind you, towards the darkened hallways, but nodded nonetheless, closing the door behind you with a soft click. 

Laney curled up comfortably on your bed, her relaxed posture easing some of the remaining tension in your shoulders.  The act alone was a sign of her trust, a reminder that she felt safe and saw no threats nearby. If Beron ever caught her on any furniture, she’d be punished. But in this moment, she was calm and content, and you let that calm you too.

And then you were back in front of the mirror again. 

Your mother pulled a small velvet stool in front, gesturing for you to take a spot. The large frame of the mirror seemed to laugh at you and as your mother stood behind you, delicate arms reaching for a hairbrush, you felt like a child again. The mirror seemed to grow even larger, even grander, and you fought to recognize the female that stared at you through it. 

You watched as your mother moved with the same gentle grace she had always possessed, bringing a hairbrush to your damp hair. Your mother was beautiful. She always had been. Even now, with the sadness in her eyes— a trait specific to Vanserras, you were certain—she was one of the most beautiful people you knew. Your thoughts drifted to what she must have been like when she was a bit younger, how she was when Helion first met her. You wanted to know it all, wanted to know your mother as a teenager, wanted to know how she fell in love. 

Her eyes caught yours in the mirror and her movements slowed. The expression on her face softened. 

"Where has that mind drifted off to?" 

You blinked, shrugging slightly. There was a lump in your throat as you responded, "Nothing real."

She frowned, and her eyes danced across your face before she continued brushing your hair. A thoughtful hum left her lips. "You've been gone a lot recently. Done a great job of stressing your poor brother out. Where is it you've been running off to?"

Her voice was soft and kind and just below a whisper—  as if you two were sharing a secret. It was her classic motherly way of interrogating you. The gentleness in her tone made it clear that she didn't mind, no matter the answer. She never did.

A soft laugh escaped you. "I have to visit all of my many admirers."

Her answering laugh was sweet and quiet, a sound so pure it almost felt out of place in this house. You resisted the urge to look back at your closed door, to wait in fear for heavy footsteps. But your mother didn’t seem worried about an intrusion. Instead, she looked at you with a glint in her eyes, a mischievous sparkle that reminded you so much of Eris—right down to the playful eyebrow raise.

"Joke as much as you'd like. We both know you have plenty of those," she teased.

You smiled to yourself.  

"How could you not when you're so beautiful?" she added, her voice filled with a sincerity that made your throat tighten.

You looked at her in the mirror again. Her eyes were so kind. They held the same warmth you’d see in Lucien’s— a warmth that you’d see even in Eris’s when he was at ease, comfortable. Those times were rare now, if not impossible. 

You looked at your own reflection.

You didn’t have kind eyes. You had your father’s eyes. Beron's eyes—hard, angry, simmering with rage. You had his temper, his unforgiving nature. You were every part of him that you hated, and you were reminded of it every day. Reminded of it when you struggled to control your powers, when you failed to harness the very essence of who you were. Reminded of it when you looked in the mirror for too long— when you thought about how you would never be soft like the females males often loved. That your pain didn’t lead you to be kinder, didn’t teach you to be gentle.

Your hand drifted to your heart instinctively, fingers brushing on the fabric just above your breast. You trailed down to the side of your ribs, to where a spiral of ink now adorned your skin. 

Your mother finished the large braid, bringing it around your shoulder. She caught your gaze in the mirror and smiled. "Do you like it?"

She had a freckle above her eyebrow, the same freckle your brothers each had in different places on their faces. Eris had the most freckles out of all of you. They painted the bridge of his nose and his arms the most—

"Honey?" 

You blinked. Your body felt fuzzy as you reached up to touch the braid. "Yeah,” you said, clearing your throat. “Thank you."

Her kind eyes softened at you— softened in a way you didn’t feel worthy for. There was a faint simmering in her eyes, a fire that she still held despite how her life had treated her. It had dimmed over the centuries, lessened to a small flicker. But the flame was still there. You saw it. 

You took a deep breath, maneuvering yourself to turn in the chair and face her. You made room for her to sit next to you, gesturing with a small smile and a lift of your chin. 

"I have to tell you something.”

She sat and frowned slightly, eyes scanning your face. But she said nothing, waiting for you to continue.

"Do you remember when I was little? And you used to love reading me that one poem?"

Her expression softened, and a gentle smile played on her lips as a distant look grew in her eyes. She knew, without you even saying the title, exactly what you were referring to— after countless nights spent curled around you, running her hands through your hair as she repeated the words she’d memorized so long ago, how could she not?

So she watched you, her gaze unwavering, as you began to recite your favorite stanza. "In life's cruel grasp we could not abide, so we made a pact with the Reaper's side."

Her voice joined yours. "And in death's embrace our freedom lies, where we'll find each other beneath somber skies."

You smiled to yourself, looking at her, scanning her face. "I know why you love it so much."

She furrowed her brows, yet even then she looked so patient, like she'd sit there and wait for hours until you were ready to speak again. This was someone who had been made kind by what they had gone through. You almost felt ashamed that you had turned out differently.

Finally, you said, "I found the book. In Helion's library."

A flash of recognition crossed her face, and she softened, her eyes taking on a distant, wistful look. "You did?"

You nodded again, watching her closely as a tender, almost nostalgic smile played on her lips. She tried to compose herself, her eyes growing distant and glazing over. "I've heard he loves to collect stories." She paused, then asked, "What were you doing all the way over there?"

You thought about her question, about answering, about maybe telling her everything. But there was only one thing you could pull yourself to say. "I know," you said softly. "About Helion. I know."

She understood what you were truly saying. A sigh left her lips and an echo of her younger self appeared in her eyes, a female who had fallen hopelessly and madly in love. A version much younger—much more innocent. More hopeful.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, your voice breaking as she met your gaze. Her face seemed pained, shocked almost, and her eyes filled with confusion. She moved closer to you, grabbing your hands in her own.

"What could you possibly be sorry for?"

It was becoming increasingly difficult to draw a full breath. There was something constricting around your chest. Perhaps it was all of the recent stress, the worry of how much harder things had gotten, the image of a life your mother could have had— this suffocating tie to Azriel that you now had etched into your very flesh. 

"You were loved. And you deserve better,”  Your voice caught in your throat and a tear trickled down your cheek as you shook your head slightly. “And I can't do anything to help—"

“No, no,” She interrupted you, bringing her warm hands to cup your cheeks— pulling your eyes to her kind ones.  "I'm your mother. I'm supposed to help you."

Tears welled in your eyes as she continued. "I should be apologizing to you,” she murmured, “I could be better, stronger. I should apologize that I was selfish and brought you into this world."

"Selfish?" 

How could she ever consider herself selfish? You knew the pain she carried, the weight of responsibility that seemed to crush her at times. You saw it reflected in Eris— a specific pain that came from feeling like you could never do enough. But even with your older brothers, despite their cruelty and callousness, your mother loved them fiercely, passionately. Loved them with every fiber of her being, every part of her that she gave to them. 

"Yes," she replied softly, her touch gentle as she rubbed your cheek, her eyes full of emotion. "Oh, how excited I was to have a girl. You, my sweet, are one of my greatest blessings. My beautiful daughter. So strong, so loyal. I just couldn't imagine a life without you."

You wanted to reassure her, to alleviate her guilt, but words seemed inadequate in the face of such profound love. Instead, you leaned into her touch, covering her hand with yours, and held on tightly.

"One day, things will be different," she said, her voice soft but filled with conviction— enough of it that it eased the anger that bit at your gut. "You can be different. And you won't be like him."

She paused, her eyes locking onto yours with a depth of understanding that made your chest tighten. "You’ll know what love is. And you won’t have to resort to reciting poetry to know how powerful it can be."

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The dense canopy of trees above barely let any light through as you hurried along the forest path. Spring along the border was always odd, with dense forests giving way to large rolling hills. The difference in scenery, usually something you welcomed, felt nauseating today. All the sights, the smells, even the sunshine, seemed overwhelming.

You walked faster than usual, eyes fixed ahead, hands clenched at your sides. Azriel’s keen senses had already picked up on the subtle signs—your shallow breaths, the way your shoulders were stiff with tension. 

"Why are you walking through the woods and not even looking at me?"

You stopped as Azriel’s voice rang in your ears. 

You’d come to rely on these meetings with Azriel to exchange information, to strategize, to plan how to give your brother an edge. They’d eased your anxiety slightly, giving you a sense of support that you’d never thought would be found in Azriel of all people. But he was smart, as much as you hated to admit it, and had dedicated time to offering you aid. 

The truth was, you didn't quite trust your self-control right now. For some inexplicable reason, Azriel's scent was intoxicating, flooding your senses and causing your thoughts to swirl in a disorienting mix of attraction and confusion. Despite how hard you tried to fight it, you found yourself looking forward to these encounters. And that was a dangerous reality. 

"I like to stretch my legs," you finally responded, attempting to sound casual. "And maybe I just don't want to face you."

“Is that so? Nervous to stare at me too long?"

You could already picture the hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips— a bit of personality that you’d seen grow over your time together. You rolled your eyes, turning around and facing him with a blank look.

He stepped closer to you, eying you closely. “Worried that you’ll go crazy with desire?”

His smirk deepened, a rare, genuine smile breaking through his usual stoic mask. You bit the inside of your cheek in response.  "Don't flatter yourself,” you scowled. “Maybe I’m being kind and saving you from embarrassing yourself with how badly you’ll want me.”

This was dangerous— it was entirely too playful, too close to the brink of what you assumed friendship felt like. 

“Are you?” he asked, his voice dropping lower, more intimate. “Being kind?”

Azriel’s hazel eyes bore into yours and your chest tightened at the eye contact. You cleared your throat, turning away and resuming your brisk pace. “Shut up and let's just go.”

Behind you, Azriel chuckled softly, the sound rolling across your senses like an unwelcomed caress, making you shiver involuntarily. 

"Stop laughing," you gritted out, “I’ve never heard a worse sound.”

The chuckle faded and you heard him come to a stop. You turned around, meeting his gaze with a glare. He stood there, arms crossed, a faint smirk still playing on his lips. He seemed amused, at ease, even.

“What?” you snapped, your patience wearing thin.

He nodded towards you. “What’s your problem?”

“You standing there. That’s my problem.”

Azriel raised a brow, uncrossing his arms as he took a few steps forward to stand directly in front of you. He narrowed his eyes, studying you intently. “You’re bitchier than usual.”

“Careful,” you gritted out, staring at him with a heavy, burning gaze. 

“I’m here helping you,” he said evenly, his voice holding a hint of reproach. “You can drop the attitude.”

"You’re only helping me because you want to get rid of me and, sadly, you can’t kill me," you shot back, bitterness lacing your words.

Azriel's jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with something that almost seemed to resemble something like anger— like hurt. 

"I believe I've made it clear that your death is something I've purposely avoided."

Something about the way he was staring at you made you shiver. You fought the urge to run your hands over the area where your skin was now marked with the tattoo of a bargain. You met his gaze, steadying yourself. "Why didn't you tell me that Rhys presented my father with a proposition? That he requested an audience with him?"

Azriel blinked. "I wasn't aware that Rhysand had already done so."

"But you knew?" 

"Yes," he replied,  "I did."

"What good is this stupid bargain of ours if you don't even uphold it?" 

Azriel's expression hardened and he leaned down further. The scent of him filled your nostrils and you sucked in a tight breath, feeling your chest constrict with the motion. "I take my bargains very seriously. Our deal was that I would help you, that you would get what you wanted. Not that I would tell you everything."

Your nostrils flared.

"Do you realize how much danger Rhysand has put us in? Put me in?" Your voice trembled with barely restrained anger. "Beron is upset that Rhysand thinks of him as someone so conforming. He's convinced he has a traitor in his ranks. And if you haven’t noticed, Shadowsinger, he does!" 

You pointed to yourself and Azriel’s face seemed to darken with understanding. 

"Y/n—" he started, but he stopped abruptly, his gaze shooting to the trees beyond you.

Annoyance flared within you. "What?" you snapped, but he ignored you, his focus elsewhere.

"Can you just finish whatever the hell—"

Azriel moved with lightning speed, grabbing you and pushing you against a tree. His hand flew to your mouth, covering it as he brought his other hand to his face, a finger on own lips in a gesture of silence. Your eyes widened, watching as a muscle feathered in his cheek, his wings flaring slightly, shadows skittering around him.

Then you heard it too—a familiar laugh. 

"I know you're here, Shadowsinger. I can smell the bastard on you," Renard's voice echoed through the trees, taunting and cruel.

Desperation clawed at you. In a surge of panic, you bit down hard on Azriel's hand. He pulled back with a sharp intake of breath and you gave him one last look before you winnowed away. You could've sworn you saw a flicker of hurt, a sense of betrayal in the whites of his eyes. 

And then he was gone from your view. 

You didn’t get far, appearing in another thicket of trees within the same forest. Breathing heavily, you leaned against a sturdy oak.

Why hadn’t you winnowed farther? Straight to Autumn?

A tug in your chest nagged at you.

Faintly, the sounds of a struggle reached your ear—grunts and the clash of metal. You clenched your fists, chastising yourself. Do not go back, you thought. It's dangerous. You're putting yourself at risk—you and Eris, you and your mother. If they find you, if they manage to tell your father, you're dead. He'll kill you.

Azriel doesn’t matter, you tried to convince yourself. He can handle himself. And if not—

“Damnit.”

You made the decision before you could second-guess yourself, winnowing back immediately to where you had left him.

Disorientation clouded your vision the moment you landed. You blinked rapidly, taking in the chaotic scene before you. Azriel was engaged in a flurry of combat with three men— soldiers adorning the colors of your court. His gaze flicked to you for a split second, and his face softened with a brief, almost imperceptible relief.

You gave him what felt like a smile—an acknowledgment, a reassurance—before the reality of the situation snapped you back. Countless men surrounded you both, their eyes glinting with malice, with something that felt awfully like hunger. 

You had no weapon, but Eris had taught you ways to deflect attacks. 

One of the men lunged, and you dodged, feeling the blade cut through the air dangerously close to your side. With a swift kick, you sent him stumbling backward, then followed up with a sharp jab to his throat. He gasped, clutching at his neck, and you swiftly disarmed him.

Steel clashed against steel as you parried another strike, your movements agile and precise. A second attacker closed in, and you deflected his blade before stepping inside his guard, driving your elbow into his face. Blood sprayed as he staggered back, dazed. With a decisive motion, you brought his own weapon down through him, a sickening squelch filling your ears as he dropped to the ground.

Azriel was a blur beside you, his movements so swift and deadly it was almost poetic.

You managed to disarm another man, twisting his wrist until he dropped his weapon with a cry of pain. You kicked the sword away and followed up with a decisive strike to his chest, sending him sprawling to the ground. Your weapon found its way clean through his throat next.

Breathing heavily, you scanned the clearing, your eyes darting from one enemy to the next. There were countless bodies now, sprawled across the ground like fallen leaves— but none of their faces matched the one in your mind. You surveyed your surroundings once more. 

"Looking for me, princess?" The voice cut through the air, raspy and filled with disdain.

You spun around as Renard emerged from the trees, stalking closer with predatory grace, like an animal preparing for a kill. "Because I was looking for you."

He looked worse than the last time you’d seen him, barely alive, supporting swollen eyes and blackened marks around his neck. Beron had indeed tortured him, and the sight filled you with a grim satisfaction.

"Must be hard looking for anything with those eyes," you retorted, a grin on your lips.

"You did this to me, you traitorous whore," Renard spat, his face contorted with anger. He made a move towards you, eyes narrowing as he caught sight of the flames flickering against your hands, unsteady.

"Real cute," he mocked. You bit back the frustration boiling in your gut, gritting your teeth as you focused on the simmering underneath your skin. 

“Come closer,” you sneered, “Let’s see how cute they feel on your burning flesh.”

“You always had such a foul mouth on you. It’s like you’re begging to be killed.”

Without hesitation, Renard lunged at you with a speed fueled by rage and desperation. You both collided in a flurry of strikes and parries, the sound of clashing metal ringing through the clearing. The flames in your hands flickered erratically as you tried to maintain focus amid the chaos.

You had always observed your father's men so you could be one step ahead— just in case. Now, facing Renard, you could sense his frustration with every move you countered, every strike you parried.

"You think you can match me, girl?" His voice dripped with contempt as he circled you, "I'll make your father's punishments seem gentle compared to what I have in mind."

"You talk too much," you managed to rasp out between clenched teeth. 

Renard's face twisted into a cruel smile as he pressed on, his strikes growing more aggressive. "I wonder what Beron will do with your body," he taunted, "If your mother will even be allowed to mourn you."

The thought hit you like a physical blow, momentarily freezing your movements. In that moment of hesitation, Renard seized the advantage. With a swift and brutal maneuver, he knocked your weapon from your grasp and delivered a fierce blow that sent you sprawling to the ground. Before you could react, he was upon you, gripping your hair and wrenching your arms behind your back, a hold tightening around your throat.

Panic surged through you as you tried desperately to summon your fire, but it wouldn't respond. You tightened your jaw, focusing every ounce of concentration to call forth that spark of heat, cursing the world—the training that was never enough, your father's prevention of you perfecting the skill.

Renard's breath was hot against your ear as you writhed beneath him. He gripped your chin roughly, forcing you to watch as Azriel fought against overwhelming odds. Men surrounded him, their blows raining down on him relentlessly.

"Is this how he had you?" Renard's voice dripped with venom. "From behind?"

You closed your eyes, summoning images of Eris, your mother, Lucien— each face a steadying breath in your mind. When you opened your eyes, your gaze landed on Azriel, surrounded by a sapphire aura that blurred with his swift movements. 

With a surge of willpower, you summoned every ounce of strength, every flicker of fire you could muster. Flames erupted from your hands with a hot burst of energy, startling Renard and giving you a split-second window of opportunity.

You turned around and seized him, your grip iron against his throat as you backed him into a nearby tree. With cold intensity, you stared into Renard's eyes, the flames casting flickering shadows across his face. 

"Don't worry,” you growled, “I won't be gentle."

Within seconds, flames engulfed Renard's throat and face, the heat and light blinding in their intensity. He screamed in agony, thrashing under your grasp, but you held on, firmer and harder each time he flailed.

As the flames dwindled, leaving behind only smoldering ruins, you staggered back, hands trembling and covered in ash and the stench of burnt flesh. But before you could dwell on the burnt remains of Renard that lay at your feet, you spun around to focus on Azriel, still fighting off multiple men, surrounded by the shimmering sapphire light of his power.

Two men stood directly in front of him, while another pair prepared to strike from behind. You glanced down at your hands and screwed your eyes shut for a fleeting moment. When you opened them again, the fire was there—steady and trained. With a fierce determination, you summoned the flames into existence, shaping them swiftly into whips of fire that crackled and danced in the air.

You brought your hands out towards the two men, feeling the fire respond to your command, crackling and whispering with power as it morphed itself at your will. The flames transformed into fiery whips, extending from your outstretched arms like extensions of your fury, connecting with the two bodies threatening Azriel.

The fiery tendrils snaked around their necks like vengeful serpents, searing flesh and scorching hands as the men futilely tried to break free. With agonized screams, they collapsed to the ground. The flames dwindled down to mere embers. When you looked up, Azriel met your gaze, his face bloodied and his leathers splattered with crimson. Shadows writhed around him, dancing on the forest floor towards your feet.

He walked towards you, his eyes shifting to the fallen bodies at your feet. He took in the sight for a moment, gaze focusing on the marred flesh across their throats. Then he blinked and brought his focus to you. "Where's Renard?"

You glanced over to the disfigured body and pile of ash near a tree. Azriel followed your gaze and he blinked once more, his eyes widening as he took in the sight. His lips parted as if to speak, but before he could utter a word, his attention abruptly shifted.

He pulled your body into him, his wing extending protectively in front of you right as a sudden ripping sound tore through the air. You were pushed away from him just in time to witness a thick weapon—a sharp, wide blade welded to a spear—pierce through the membrane of his wing. 

He cried out in agony, falling forward slightly, enough for you to catch the gaze of a lone soldier peering over the apex of his wing. You grabbed a nearby weapon and hurled it with all your might. The blade found its mark, burying itself in the soldier's neck. He collapsed instantly, motionless on the forest floor.

Azriel let out a cry of pain as he ripped the weapon out from his wing, causing it to twitch involuntarily. "C'mon, we need to go," you urged, moving closer to him. With great effort, he tried to adjust himself as you lifted his arm over your shoulder, feeling his weight and warmth press into you.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The journey back to the cabin was a blur of frantic winnowing and determined dragging through the dense forest. Your muscles ached as Azriel’s weight dragged heavily against you, stumbling with every move as the pain in his body grew. He groaned in pain as you lowered him onto the couch, the sound raw and unsettling in the quiet home.

Kneeling beside him, you moved closer to get a better look at the injury on his wing, but Azriel scrambled away from your touch and further into the couch. Your gaze settled on his face— eyes screwed shut, jaw clenched so tightly that you could see the strain in every muscle. His siphons glowed with an intense, flickering light and his shadows seemed to respond to his distress, curling protectively around him. For a moment, you felt a pang of envy. Even in his delirium, he had something to shield him from the world. 

The sight of him like this—so vulnerable, so raw—made your stomach churn. His breathing was ragged, each exhale accompanied by a soft whimper that he seemed to be fighting to suppress. Sweat matted his hair to his forehead, and every so often, he would twitch. 

You always thought that seeing Azriel suffer would make you feel good, make you feel some sort of vindication. Often, you used to imagine it would be you bringing him to his knees in pain, him and the rest of Prythian—making them suffer as you and your family had for centuries. But now, as you watched him writhing in pain on the couch, your heart hurt in a way you had only ever felt for your family—and even worse. You felt like you were in pain too.

But you had no wounds comparable to Azriel. 

A knot tightened in your chest and an unexpected urge surged through you—to comfort him, to wipe the sweat-dampened hair away from his forehead, to ease his torment. You blinked the thought away— nauseating and entirely too heavy for you to acknowledge further. You brought your attention back to his wing.

The membrane was pierced clean through by the weapon, a gaping wound from which blood and darkened poison gushed. The sight made you nauseous and you pushed away the haunting images of your father's face, the sound of leather striking flesh, and the memory of Eris's scarred back.

"I need to burn it out.”

Azriel's eyes shot open. "No, no," he pleaded weakly, his voice strained heavily. "Please."

Your hands hovered uncertainly above him. The first time you’d felt this poison in your wounds, it had felt like your body was eating itself from the inside out. You’d gotten used to the pain after a while, but Azriel was new to it— and Illyrian wings were incredibly sensitive from what you’d learned. He was in blinding pain.

"It's the only way to stop it from spreading," you insisted. "It'll only get worse if I don’t. You won’t be able to heal otherwise."

"That's—that's not how faebane works," he stammered, shaking his head vehemently. 

You gritted your teeth, letting out an exasperated breath as he rambled. "Because it's not faebane–”

Something seemed to snap. Azriel flinched, his eyes snapping to you with a wild intensity. His pupils were blown wide with fear, like a trapped animal. "You set me up."

Your stomach dropped.

"What?" 

You pulled your hand away, feeling an unfamiliar sting of offense wrapping itself around your chest. Azriel’s jaw clenched and his gaze darkened into a dangerous, skeptical narrow. 

"You're not hurt," he continued. "Was this some setup?"

Azriel's shadows flickered and writhed around him, siphons glaring with an iridescent light. He clutched at his injured wing, muttering through gritted teeth, "I knew it. You— you Vanserras."

He spat your family's name with such venom that for a fleeting second you questioned whether poison had lined his mouth rather than the wound on his wing. 

You were a fool. Azriel’s pain shouldn’t have bothered you so deeply. You should have never went back to help him. The hurt boiling under your skin made you feel weak, made you feel small.

"I will never be trusted by you, will I?" you asked, the words weak on your tongue. You looked at him and fought to push that stupid empathy away. Azriel said nothing as he grimaced further in pain. You let out a humorless laugh.

 "Right,” you said, “Deal with it yourself then. Stay here and die for all I care.”

You turned to leave, but his hand shot out and grabbed yours. The grip was firm, but not hard enough to hurt you. He adjusted his fingers around yours. When you looked down, Azriel’s pleading gaze met yours, sweat clinging to his hair as he looked up at you through darkened lashes. "No, no, I'm sorry," he murmured, "Please."

You hesitated. 

A surge of conflicting emotions—anger, hurt, and an unsettling tenderness you didn't want to acknowledge—washed over you.

Pull away. Leave him.  

And then you swallowed down the hatred, the cruelty that had risen, and knelt back down in front of him. He let out a relieved sigh. Your eyes fell to his hands, taking in the scarred tissue covering his skin— deep marks etched by fire and flame. 

"Close your eyes and pretend I’m Morrigan.”

His eyes flickered to you. "What?"

“Azriel,” You took a deep breath, training your eyes on him. "I need you to trust me. And since you don’t—close your eyes and pretend that I’m not me."

Your voice was gentler than you’d ever heard it, softer than you ever thought yourself capable of.  Azriel swallowed hard, then gave a small nod. His eyes shuttered closed.

You gently placed your palm on his injured wing, feeling the delicate membrane beneath your touch. Your other fingers trembled slightly as you summoned Eris' voice into your mind, calling upon that familiar heat and flicker as the flame began to rise through your hands. You struggled to keep it steady, each breath becoming more labored as you bit back your frustration.

Slowly, soft tendrils of shadows began weaving around your hand– a soft, cooling touch that made you blink. They drifted over you, calming the flickering flame to a steady warmth.  You took a deep breath and cautiously brought your fingers to the wound.

As the fire met his skin, Azriel tensed, a strangled sound escaping his throat. You could feel the poison reacting to the heat, the black substance dissipating under your fingertips.

"I can do this," you murmured, more for your own benefit than his. "It’ll be alright."

You weren’t sure if he could hear you, but you kept talking, hoping that your voice might anchor him to something other than his pain. It always helped you when Eris told you it would be alright, when he talked to you as he tended to your wounds, gently, tenderly, lovingly. 

You focused solely on the task at hand, blocking out the rest of your thoughts and the tightness in your chest. Finally, when you felt the last remnants of poison retreat, you withdrew your hand, the flames extinguishing with a final flicker.

Azriel’s breathing, though still ragged, had eased from the strained gasps earlier. Encouraged by this small sign, you withdrew your hand, a quiet smile of satisfaction tugging at your lips.

Looking down at Azriel, who had slipped into unconsciousness, you took a deep breath. "Thank you," you whispered to the shadows that continued to hover around you. For a moment, you felt silly for speaking to something so intangible— to things that probably didn’t even understand. Yet, as if in response, they slithered back toward Azriel, settling near the crook of his neck.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel’s eyelids felt heavy as he finally came to, his surroundings blurry and unfamiliar. 

It took him a few moments to orient himself, to remember where he was. He noticed three things first: it was nighttime, and a gentle moonlight bathed the space he was in; he was covered in a thin orange blanket, the fabric soft and worn, smelling faintly of pine and something sweet; and he was no longer in the agonizing pain he had succumbed to earlier.

Azriel shifted slightly, grimacing as a dull ache radiated from his wing. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to sit up, the blanket sliding off his shoulders. He glanced at his wing, noting the faint hole where the gaping wound had been. He extended it in a light stretch, feeling a slight sting, but it was bearable. Healable. His mind replayed the events leading up to this moment, your voice echoing in his thoughts—soft, concerned, saying his name. 

Pretend I’m Morrigan.

He had nodded, closed his eyes— but he hadn’t pretended. It was you kneeling beside him, not Mor.

Azriel's gaze wandered around the room. His shadows had left their original position, perched and curled around the apex of his wings, and now seemed to be leading him across the small living area. He frowned, his boots heavy against the aged floors as he followed them past the wooden table— he pushed away memories of you bent over the furniture, shaking his head as he approached a small bookshelf tucked in the corner. 

The shelves were adorned with an assortment of well-loved books, spines worn from what Azriel could only assume were countless readings. His shadows hovered near the middle shelf, where something caught his eye—a slight indentation in the wood, partially concealed by the darkness they casted.

As he drew closer, the shadows dissipated, revealing a carving etched into the wood—

L.V., Y/N. V. 

Azriel blinked, brows furrowing as he inspected the letters further. He traced the letters with his fingers, feeling the rough wood against his scarred, ridged skin. 

You had mentioned offhandedly that you kept in contact with Lucien, that you visited the Spring Court. But he hadn’t given the statement any further thought.

He glanced around the room. 

The space seemed to come alive around him, details he had previously overlooked now asserting their presence. He had never paid proper attention to the home, never questioned why it seemed to be so oddly clean, why you favored it so much. His fingers hovered over the initials once more.

Y/N. V. 

Glancing down at his shadows, they stilled momentarily before slithering across the floor, guiding his gaze towards the doorway. There, through the windowpane, he caught sight of you standing a short distance away from the house, beneath the starlit sky.

Azriel approached the door with cautious steps, ensuring every footfall was quiet– undetected. He reached out, his shadows wrapping around the door handle to muffle any noise it might make. With a gentle push, he swung the door open just wide enough to slip through, his shadows ensuring the hinges made no sound, either. Leaning against the sturdy frame, he allowed the darkness to envelop him further, becoming one with its comforting embrace as he observed you in the distance.

From this vantage point, he watched you, bathed in the soft light that painted the sky with a silvery hue. A gentle breeze stirred, ruffling a few strands of your hair and carrying your faint, familiar scent to him. Sweet with a hint of spice, a smell that he’d grown used to recently. There's an emotion woven into it that he can’t decipher, and for a brief moment, it frustrated him. You seemed at odds. Peaceful, in this night air, but stiff. 

There was a tightening in his chest. 

Seeing you now, basking in the moonlight as the cold air licked at him, Azriel wondered if you were the same Y/N he had so violently hated. Could someone so cruel enjoy the light of the moon? Did his other enemies also watch the stars?

“How long are you going to stand there and stare at me?”

Azriel stiffened and a heat rose to his cheeks. He looked down at his shadows in accusation. Maybe they had betrayed him, not covered his approach adequately. He glanced back up, meeting your gaze as you looked over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

Azriel waited for it— the expected glare, the indifference, or even a cruel smile. Something foreign, something that aligned with the adversarial image he held of you. But it didn't come. There was no hostility, no cruelty, no snark. Only a softness reminiscent of one that he had seen those in his family hold many times before. It caught him off guard.

You snickered softly. "I can feel your stare burning a hole into my dress."

Azriel swallowed and cleared his throat, willing himself to regain composure as he walked towards you. You turned to face him, arms crossed, eyes flicking to his wing.

"You don't look like death anymore," you remarked, a faint hint of amusement in your tone.

Azriel offered a wry smile. "I suppose I have you to thank for that." He paused, searching for the right words. He had too many questions in his mind— too many thoughts floating around, headless, bodiless. 

— You had called him by his name. You had been here with Lucien. You left and you came back. He shielded you with his wing. You healed him. You stayed. You watched the stars. 

Crickets chirped, and a soft breeze rustled the leaves overhead. Azriel's mind wandered to the initials carved into the wood.

"This was your home," he finally said, his voice quiet. "With Lucien."

Your head snapped towards him, eyes widened and lips parting in surprise. "What?"

Azriel simply looked at you, taking in the contours of your face, the way the moonlight painted soft shadows on your features. You had always been attractive, dangerously, irritatingly so. But you looked softer in this light. Someone more approachable, more real—someone he could dare to care for.

Someone he cared for enough to protect.

"Am I right?" he asked again, his voice steady.

You glanced back at the modest house. With a small sigh, you met his gaze briefly before your eyes looked down, unfocused. 

“It was Lucien’s.”

Azriel remained quiet, steading his breath as your eyes met his again. The normal simmering rage within them was replaced now with a distant sadness. 

"After Lucien fled Autumn, Tamlin had this made for him," you continued, gesturing subtly towards the house. "A place close enough to the border that Eris could sneak me to. A place for me to see Lucien, to stay with him when it was possible."

Azriel’s chest tightened further. This wasn't a Spring Court citizens home— it was yours. He thought back to the first time he’d found you here, how bitter you had seemed when you talked of its emptiness. To you, Feyre had taken away the only place you had to escape— when Lucien was forced to flee from another court, when Hybern took advantage of a weakened Spring.

"Why risk sneaking away constantly? Why not seek refuge like Lucien did?" 

Your face seemed to harden briefly at his question, a flicker of defensiveness crossing your features. "I could have," you replied, your tone tinged with a hint of regret as you offered a shrug. "Lucien begged me to."

"Yet you stayed. In Autumn.”

You tilted your chin to look at him properly, meeting his eyes with an intense, burrowing gaze. 

“Would you leave your family? Your court?" 

"My court is not known for its cruelty." 

The words slipped out almost automatically, like a response that had been trained in your presence. He cursed himself inwardly. Something flashed in your eyes and your jaw twitched imperceptibly.  For a brief moment, he braced himself for the anticipated flash of anger, the potential for conflict that could leave him stranded in this spot he now believed himself tethered to. 

But you only raised a brow. 

"Isn't it, though?" you retorted with a slight snicker.  "The all-powerful and brutal Rhysand, feared High Lord of the Night Court."

Azriel bit back the discomfort at the sound of Rhysands name, at the way you disregarded his title so flippantly. He took a deep inhale, and you recognized the action as the response that it was. 

"Autumn is my home.”

The freckles on your face seemed more visible in the moonlight. All the times he'd been with you, the weeks spent meeting you, fucking you, he couldn't remember a proper conversation, face to face, that had lasted this long without a cruel, vile insult. He found it hard to picture you in Autumn anymore, to see you alongside your other brothers, alongside Beron. The image of you among the autumn leaves, your fire-red hair blending with the fiery landscape, felt almost surreal now.

“It was Lucien's too."

“No.” You shook your head gently, a rueful smile touching your lips. “Lucien spent most of his life in other courts. He was always too kind for us. Him and his large heart were destined to leave. A bleeding heart in Autumn gets you nothing but a loss of blood."

You looked like Lucien now, more so than Azriel had seen before. The snark of Eris was still there, the same guarded, calculated movements— even the still, low cadence of your voice, like a practiced talent. Seemingly emotionless despite the topic of conversation.

Seemingly.

Gods, he hated how much you looked like Lucien now.

Because Lucien was fair. Just. Lucien had every reason, as Azriel was beginning to see like you had, to hate him. He'd gone after his mate, had rushed to prove himself in a battle to the death, hadn’t thought about Lucien as a life, as a person, beyond an adversary standing in front of a prize he wanted—that was what Elain had been. A prize. Something he wanted to deserve. Something to prove he was good.

But Lucien was kind. Lucien was diplomatic, good with people. Lucien had won Elain over with his patience, with that good heart you spoke of.

Azriel studied you, wondering how much of Lucien’s qualities you had in you that he had refused to acknowledge. That heart—it was there, beneath the layers of bitterness and guardedness. He had seen glimpses of it tonight, in the way you tended to his wounds, in the way your voice softened despite the hatred you held so deeply, so fiercely. 

He found himself wondering, not for the first time, what you could have been had you left with Lucien.

Azriel cleared his throat. “So you stayed.”

You held his gaze for a moment. He wondered if you were deciding whether to answer, waited anxiously to see whether this openness of yours would vanish. 

"I couldn't leave my mother. I couldn't leave Eris."

Azriel opened his mouth— to say what, he wasn’t sure. But you beat him to it.

"And besides that," you added, your tone shifting slightly, "I fit. You're the one who's talked about my cruelty. I belong in Autumn."

A familiar hardness began returning to your expression. He could see it building, a wall of cold resolve. Your arms tightened around yourself, nails digging into your biceps. You were cruel—this was a fact he knew well. Cruel, calculated, and dangerous for him. Yet, despite all this, an inexplicable urge to apologize welled up within him. 

He had always known getting involved with you was a bad idea. He had rationalized it as a way to fulfill his urges, telling himself that fucking you was the path of least resistance compared to killing you. One option provided a release, the other would only escalate into more chaos. But now, as he stood here, the realization hit him: perhaps it was more dangerous than he had thought. Perhaps he had been dipping into something more addictive than he realized, and now he couldn’t think straight.

Why had he protected you with his wing?

You glanced back at the house, your gaze softening, body relaxing. "I don't think Lucien ever truly got over that," you whispered, almost to yourself. "The hurt that came from his belief that I had chosen my cruel brother over my kind one."

It felt like an admission not meant for Azriel, like you hadn’t realized you’d confessed it out loud. You blinked and the flicker of vulnerability he had seen was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the guarded expression he had come to know.

"But that's not the truth,” Azriel said.

You met his gaze again. Years of sacrifice and loyalty that bound you to a life you never chose. A curved smile touched your lips, a mask slipping back into place— so easily, so swiftly, it almost made him sick. 

"People believe the stories that make the most sense to them. I'd say you're more than familiar with that habit, Shadowsinger."

Azriel's brows furrowed as he straightened, instinctively pulling his wings closer. A small ache radiated from his injured wing, and his mind drifted back to the wound. His shadows coiled protectively around him. Through their whisperings he felt an inexplicable urge to ask, "How did you know it wasn't faebane?"

You looked at him, your expression unreadable. With a nonchalant shrug, you replied, "Lucky guess."

He shook his head. "Do not lie to me."

“I don’t take orders from you.” Your jaw tightened, a flicker of defiance danced in your eyes. "And does it matter? You're healed. You’re welcome. Move on.”

"It matters," he insisted, his voice firm. "How did you know it wasn't faebane? That you needed to burn it out?"

You sighed in irritation. "You're supposed to be smart. Why do you think I knew?"

Azriel's heart pounded. He did know. Deep down, he knew the answer, but he needed to hear it from you. "How did you know?" he pressed.

You looked away, a dry laugh escaping your lips. Shaking your head, you said, "Faebane became useless to my father when an antidote was created for it."

Azriel's brows furrowed further, a sick feeling churning in his stomach. His fists curled at his sides as he asked, "What does that mean?"

A bitter smile twisted your lips as you met his gaze again. "He needed something else to make his punishments effective. So he created a new type of poison, similar to faebane. You can burn it out, which he loves. It's like a fun game for him—inflict the wound, heal it with even more pain, just to do it all over again."

Azriel's shadows seemed to still, softening in their movements. He fought the urge to keep them close, feeling them drift away towards the night air, towards you.

He scanned you with a burning gaze. He’d never noticed any scarring before, but then again, he'd only ever seen you from the back, your dress hitched up to your waist as he rutted into you from behind.  A tightness in his chest made him feel sick.

"I'm sorry," Azriel whispered before he even realized what he was saying, the honesty in his voice surprising even himself. Azriel didn’t apologize. He never did. Even when he should’ve.

You let out a wicked, cold snicker. "Don't go soft on me, Shadowsinger. We both know you're not really sorry. Just like your brute brother wasn't sorry when he figured out the same thing about Eris."

He shivered at the tone of your voice— a bite stronger than the night air that surrounded you both. His fists tightened at his sides as an image of Cassian came into his mind. He felt a rush of two things: blinding rage and blistering guilt. You had no right to call Cass a brute— Cass was a good brother, a loyal brother. And he and Azriel had talked about Eris, had talked about your brother, how little they cared about his punishments. The guilt bubbled up faster than the anger did, swallowing the rage entirely. 

The nighttime air felt suffocating now, pressing against his skin. As if you sensed it too, a cough escaped your lips, breaking the silence that had settled between you as Azriel observed you further. 

"That's enough sweet talk for me. I'll be leaving now," you declared, making a move to step away. Azriel intercepted your path, stepping in front of you with a determined stance.

You shot him a pointed glare. "I can just winnow away. You are aware of this, yes?"

Azriel ignored you, his gaze fixed on you as he searched your face for the answer to a question he didn’t know how to ask. 

"You left me earlier," he said.

You rolled your eyes, an incredulous scoff leaving your curved lips. “Gods, what is this, an exit interrogation? I just saved your ass and—”

He cut you off. “Earlier. When Renard ambushed us. You left.”

"Yes, Azriel, I did," you replied evenly.

The sound of his name seemed to cause a ripple, almost imperceptible, through the shadows around him. He flinched slightly and his stomach twisted into a small, tight knot. Azriel. 

Azriel's eyes darted between yours. “And then you came back.”

He could sense your growing annoyance, could see the simmering flame in your darkened eyes, the tightening of your hands.

"Are we summarizing the events of tonight?" 

He ignored you. “Why?”

"I'm not doing this with you," you shot back, frustration lacing your words as you attempted to push past him. But Azriel moved with a swiftness that caused a small sound of surprise to leave your lips. His strong grip closed around your arm, halting your movements and pulling you back into him.

Now, you were standing close, barely an inch separating your bodies. He could feel the heat of your body radiating against his and the faintest hint of a question lingered in his gaze. His shadows wrapped around your arm.

“Why?”

Your eyes locked with his and you sucked in a breath. "Because you're no use to me if you're dead.”

Azriel's thoughts raced. He hadn't meant those words when he said them, either. 

His shadows whispered things he couldn't quite focus on, their murmurs blending into the background as all he saw was you—so close to him. Someone who could have left him for dead. If Renard's men hadn't taken him so off guard, the poison would have. But you helped him, even after he insulted you, accused you of setting him up.

You looked like Lucien. You looked like Lady Autumn. You looked like Eris. But for the first time, you didn't look like someone he hated. 

"You are not Beron," Azriel said, his voice rough like gravel. He watched as your brows furrowed, your lips falling into a slight frown. "I should never have compared you to him. You are not your father.”

He could see the conflict in your eyes, darting across his face as you began to fall lax in his touch.

"And you're not your brother either," he added quietly.

The words felt like a confession from his lips, as if he was saying something besides the actual words he uttered. 

You blinked, staring at him as you pulled away slightly. Confusion flickered in his expression, his hand hovering where you had been in his hold. You took another step back.

"I am not my father," you affirmed, your voice steady. "I'm loyal. And I'm smart. And—" Your voice faltered. "And I get those things from Eris.”

Azriel stiffened, feeling his shadows tighten around him involuntarily as he watched you. He saw the softness fade from your face, replaced by a steely determination that caused a pang in his chest. You shook your head slightly, swallowed hard, and locked eyes with him.

"I am exactly like my brother. It's one of the things I'm most proud of.”

Before Azriel could respond, before he could even make a move toward you, you turned on your heel and were gone. The night swallowed you up, leaving him standing alone amidst the whispering shadows, grappling with the sickening vulnerability that washed over him like a wave. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

IM BACK BABIES AND IM WRITIN LIKE ITS A FULL TIME JOB

ill make parts shorter i swear (actually....will i???) but alas.... azzie baby has been hit in the face with the beginning of his FEELINGS!!!!

also, in case you wanna SEE our angsty hate-love birds, the super talented @micahssketchbook has sketched them not ONCE, but twice!!

The scene in part three where Azriel has reader in a chokehold and she pulls one on his ass by taking Truth-Teller

and what theyre about to be like in future parts with Az caressing readers face!!

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @panther-girl-124 @bubybubsters

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @vansaddy

[thegnomelord]

Ok, so I loved your dragon reader/ dragon price fic. The detailed courting rituals got me thinking about how different members of TF 141 react to a s/o who has different courting rituals than them.

The one rolling around in my mind rn is Gaz (which I'm pretty sure is a harpy or bird hybrid of some kind) with a dragon reader.

So Gaz tries to court reader through a more fancy version of pebbling. But, instead of giving cool rocks and sticks, it's gemstones and weapons. Yknow, expensive/fancy things that Gaz thinks the reader might want to add to his hoard.

Btw do you have an anon list? If so, is 👑 anon available?

I don't have an anon list yet but you're welcome to be 👑anon!

It's cool to think how they'd try to court you. I hc that werewolves, and Johnny by extension, are really straightforward. Like sitting way too close, hands roaming over your body, trying to lick into your mouth and going "Hey wanna make more of us?"

Ghost, the poor thing, is completely fucked bc he was human before becoming a wraith, how the Hell is he supposed to know? Que him going through Wikipedia articles and watching documentaries of your species courting and mating (having to rub one out imaging you and him in that position ofc) and just stumbling through the whole courting thing.

CW:NSFW

But Gaz? Oooh Gaz—

Safe to say he's fallen ass over tits for you.

It's the way you take care of them, of him, of the monstrous strength used to defend them turning velvet soft when Gaz needs emotional support that has his harpy hindmind demanding to lock you down before a competitor snatches you away.

Only problem — you're not a harpy. And Gaz has no idea how courtship works, as when he asks Price about it (under the guise of just being curious) the old fart just gives him an amused look and tells him to figure it out.

Though harpies and dragons are two different species, he figures there must be some similarities, so he figures to listen to the old fairy tales about your kind and looks for the shiniest thing he can find, because Harpies court by giving gifts and dragons like to hoard and both of them like shiny stuff right?

You're confused like Hell when one day you wake up to find a silver ring with a shiny amethyst sitting on your windowsill. You know for a fact it's not yours as the instinct to catalogue every item in your hoard is as old as the draconic blood running through your veins and you'd remember if you had it.

When you make sure it's not stolen and no owner can be found, (because who'd wear that type of ring in a military base?) you decide to keep it, failing to notice how the way Gaz's pupils get bigger when you put the ring in your pocket.

It is a nice ring, the shine of the gemstone tickling your brain in a pleasant way. The military doesn't allow dragons to have large hoards, most of the items you've gathered over the decades and centuries safely hidden in vaults, but it feels good to have a small hoard in your den.

You expect this to be a one off event. But. No. Every few weeks you find a new thing on your windowsill, from gems to guns to additions to weapons you've expressed you'd like to get. Each new thing leaves you scratching your head, annoyance growing bit by bit as there's never enough scent on the items to track the culprit down and it's not like you can turn the base upside down looking for them (again).

You're unsure how to feel; it's obvious someone is trying to court you, but it definitely can't be Price because no dragon would go about it like this. But you have to admit it's nice to be desired, regardless how odd the method may be.

Then you notice how Gaz has started acting. . . different. He'll ruffle his feathers and flutter his wings more than usual when you two are alone, purposely stretch more often to make your eyes naturally draw to him, sticking to your side as he talks about everything and anything under the sun.

You're also not a fool. You can figure out it's a harpy's way of trying to show off, but without any open hostility you can only assume he's trying to court you. And you let him, you like his presence and the sound of his voice, the way he gives you a lopsided smile and the way his dark feathers shine like onyx gems when the light hits them juuust right and the way he flushes and stutters when your tail wraps around his leg.

Then one late evening when you're doing paperwork you catch sight of something behind your window in the corner of your eye. Like a flash you're opening the window, your clawed hand gripping Gaz's hand before he can scatter.

Gaz's wings spread out wide, a surprised squawk leaving him as he looks into your slitted eyes. "Uh-, I, eh- Hi?" He says, gulping, his newest gift, a very shiny ruby, held in his hand. But what draws your eye are his dark feathers.

You let out an amused snort, "Hello." You purr, leaning in so your faces are close, enjoying the way he flushes from the proximity. "So you're the little thief that's been visiting me."

Gaz's feather puff up to make his silhouette twice as big, his eyes narrowing, a hurt and angry look spreading across his features. "I'm no thief!" He says, insulted that you'd suggest he can't get you gifts on his own. "I-"

"You are," You hum, reaching out your other hand to hold his jaw, and even with his anger he feels his mind croon at how softly you touch him. "You're in the process of stealing my heart."

"Oh." Is the most intelligent thing he can come up with, his pupils blowing wide like he'd just seen the shiniest thing in his life. "Oh."

"Yes," You shrug and pull your hand back to yank one of your scales out of your shoulder, giving it to him as you take the ruby. "Keep this safe for me, yeah?" You hum and then you let him go, going back to your work while he's left dumbstruck, clutching the scale close to his chest.

When it finally settles in his head that you'd just given him a gift, that you'd reciprocated, and given him a shiny gift, oh he's treating that scale like it's the most precious thing in his world. He keeps it close to him, cooing to it in the privacy of his room, keeping it on his pillow so he can fall asleep with your scent in his nose.

He also doubles down on the gifts, but now he's very open about it, to the point you'll have him randomly come into your office to give you something shiny or another weapon, preening so prettily when you praise the thing he's brought back, nuzzling into your neck and fluffing up his feathers. His heart swoons when you show him the small hoard you've made with all the things he's brought you, and you end up spending the entire evening with him cuddled up to you, chirping happily.

"Hey, can I see that scale I gave you?" You ask after a couple of weeks, curious to see how he's treated it.

"Uh, sure." Gaz can swear his heart's beating like a war drum as he watches you inspect your scale, checking for scratches or cracks.

But you find none, it's still as shiny as the day you'd given it to him. Maybe even shinier.

You smile and before he can do anything you pull him close to you by a hand on his hip. "Very well done, little thief." You hum, kissing him. Gaz melts against you, not even your lips able to muffle the happy chirps and croons that escape his chest.

You spend the next few months getting familiar with each other's bodies, lazy evenings spent with your clawed hands preening his wings, Gaz steadily melting into the bed with every brush of your fingers. Kyle taking a few extra minutes in the morning to rub his face between your wing, chirping and crooning.

Harpy mating season comes around and you're caught off guard when you come to your room to find your covers and pillows and entire wardrobe on the ground, turned into a makeshift nest with a very naked, and very horny, Gaz sitting in the middle of it.

His eyes are hazy but he knows you're there the second your scent hits his nose, the most desperate sound you've ever heard leaving his lips, bruised from how hard he'd been biting them to reign his noises in, to keep them only for you.

"Mate-" Kyle whines, shuffles in the nest that has the pretty gems he'd gifted you strewn amongst the fabric, "-need you, please- I-"

One more needy sound is all it takes to have you tumbling naked into the nest in record time, deep guttural purrs answering his pleased coos. He presses flush against you, seeking out your mouth, whole body burning up and his thighs shaking, his cock rock hard.

"I got you, pretty thief." You rumble, pulling him into your lap, his wings spreading out and feathers puffing up, as if he needs to make himself look even more desirable. "What do you need Kyle?"

"Need you," Kyle whines, pawing at your own erection, desperate fingers shaking as he strokes you, "Please- hurts, I need- mate."

You shush him with sweet kisses, your hand sliding down to very carefully stretch him open while avoiding injuring him with your claws, your mind purring at how willingly he opens up for you, wings and limbs shaking as he whimpers against your lips, his mind steadily leaking from his cock.

"You're alright," You calm him when you pull your fingers out, positioning him so your cock head rests against his entrance, not missing how Kyle preens at your strength. "Going to breed you right, gonna take care of you."

"Yes, yes, yes!" Kyle moans are loud as you steadily push your cock into him, his walls clamping down on every inch of your length. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank- mate." His claws dig into your shoulders, clutching you tight as you bottom out in him, his hole clenching you in sync with his ragged breathing.

"I'm here," You hum, barely able to think, "Just relax, let me take care of you." You say, feeling him relax into you, and with deep purrs and lots of praise you begin to fuck him, moving him like a fleshlight on your cock, letting him moan and groan and scream his heart out uncaring who hears it, your ancient blood singing at the thought of his noises being a testament to your abilities as a mate.

Then the tight heat and the scent and just Kyle has your mind forgetting how to think, your body moving on it's own to show Kyle he'd picked a good mate.