#but also a few of my faves

[impossiblescissorspeachpaper]

I posted 1,972 times in 2022

That's 1,767 more posts than 2021!

108 posts created (5%)

1,864 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@nikethestatue

@offtorivendell

@tswaney17

@fawnandshadows

@ultadverb

I tagged 951 of my posts in 2022

#elriel - 100 posts

#elain archeron - 93 posts

#azriel - 89 posts

#acotar - 52 posts

#t writes - 49 posts

#elain - 43 posts

#elain x azriel - 43 posts

#azriel shadowsinger - 42 posts

#elriel fanfiction - 39 posts

#elriel art - 38 posts

Longest Tag: 127 characters

#reading harry potter 7 as a teen and my tiny mind being blown by all the threads woven throughout the series coming to fruition

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Elriel Month Week 1. “Always”

NSFW

Elain dozed peacefully in Azriel’s arms as he carefully attempted to pry himself away from her soft curves. Her hair was a mess and lay tangled over half of her face, her full, pink lips were parted as her breath puffed out evenly, and her supple body was safely tucked into his chest. He didn’t want to leave the warmth of her bed, her embrace. But he was being summoned by a meddling High Lord. Mind to mind. He scowled and fortified his mental shields, shutting out Rhys for just a little longer, not yet ready to leave the little slice of heaven he found himself in this morning.

Apparently, dealing with an unruly prisoner in the Hewn City dungeons was a more pressing matter than residing between Elain’s legs for the fourth time this morning. He had snuck in from his month long mission well past midnight, finding her awake and waiting for him, and proceeded to attentively, and thoroughly, worship her. The memories of the night before made his cock twitch. The sweet taste of her, her sinful curves, her soft flesh.

His eyes raked down her gloriously naked body, pressed up against his, and smiled. She clung to him— as if even in her sleep, she couldn’t stand to be away from him. They hadn’t bothered to put any clothes back on throughout the night, they’d only be torn off moments later. 

Gods. The sight of her, the scent of her. 

He groaned longingly, pawing at her ample behind, his attempts at trying not to rouse her from sleep flung out the window along with his sanity, apparently.

Elain stirred in his arms and inhaled a deep breath as her eyes fluttered open and focused on Azriel’s face above her. His hazel eyes churned with heat. His hand was still kneading her ass. She smiled softly.

“Good morning.”

He returned her smile, pressing a tender kiss to the tip of her pert nose and shuffling himself free from their tangle of limbs. He hitched himself up on an elbow to gaze down at her, his other hand resting on the curve of her waist.

“You don’t have to go, do you?” her voice was small, still croaky from sleep.

“Soon.” He responded. The light in her eyes stuttered.

“You only just came back.” She didn’t want to sound like a petulant child, but she missed him. Whenever he wasn’t there, she missed him.

“I’m not going far, my love. Rhys just needs me to deal with something in the Court of Nightmares. I’ll be back in the evening.”

“You mean you have to deal with someone,” she corrected, her eyes full of worry for him. Always for him.

He nodded his head in ascent, just once, and reached out a scarred knuckle, trailing it down her smooth cheek. “You needn’t worry about me, Elain. I’ve been doing this for centuries.”

“I will always worry. You’re mi—” she stopped herself from saying that last word.

She would always worry for him, worry about the effect his work had on his well-being. She was well aware he had been the Night Court Spymaster for centuries, longer than Rhys had been High Lord even. But she was also aware that he did not find joy in torturing, did not relish in the game of defiance and mental gambit. If she could spare him from this encumbrance, she would. In a heartbeat…

She nuzzled back into his embrace, hiding her face from his gaze. Casting her eyes down she whispered into his chest, as if uttering the words directly into his heart, “I just... I wish we were both somebody else.”

His brow furrowed slightly in confusion. He didn’t quite follow, but he remained silent and let her finish her thought. He let his thumb trace soothing circles across the smooth skin of her waist.

“Only so… so we wouldn’t be somebody else’s…” she finished shyly, as if weary he might mock or chastise her for sharing her inner most thoughts. She knew he never would, but the feelings of doubt cruelly engrained from years of neglect and mistreatment by her mother had done their job well.

Understanding bloomed across his face. He knew what she was saying; they were always being pulled apart, their actions monitored by those who laid claim to their autonomy. By his High Lord. By her mate.

So, he shared her sentiment. He really did. And he didn’t want to claim her aloud, didn’t want to come off as a typical territorial fae male but, in his heart, she was his. Just as he was hers. His whole heart belonged to her. No other option made sense. And he hated that they had to sneak around. That they had to hide. That their love, although pure - a thing of secret, lovely beauty - remained ultimately forbidden.

“Elain,” he tugged her chin up with deft fingers so she could peer at him, so she could see the sincerity he hoped to convey in his expression. “I am no one else’s, but yours. I’m yours.”

She swallowed thickly, her delicate throat bobbing with the motion. “I want to call you mine. So that everyone knows. And I only want to be yours.”

“We will have that time; I promise you this Elain. But until certain… issues are dealt with, we must remain discreet. More than anything for your safety, as well as the tenuous political alliances of Prythian’s Courts and its’ High Lords.”

He rattled off the last line almost absentmindedly, his voice flat and emotionless. The words tasted like ash in his mouth, regurgitated from his lips mindlessly as he had listened to Rhys spout the same argument to him time and time again— whenever he challenged his High Lord on the matter, which was often.

But her safety was his number one priority. He would never forgive himself if Beron saw fit to lay claim on her in his son’s honour. If he believed it was within his rights to drag her to the Autumn Court and crown her a bride within the amber territory. A growl threatened to rip from his throat at the mere thought.

Her brown eyes bore into his as he spoke those monotonous words. Like she was peering through a window directly into his soul, she understood him. She always had. She recognised his weakness; her safety. Even if it sacrificed her happiness, if only for a little while, Azriel would always ensure her safety. He had gone on suicide missions for her safety, and she didn't doubt he would do so again without hesitation.

Her face softened, letting the thought go in favour of enjoying Azriel’s company for a little while longer. She settled back into the mattress before she whispered, “Lay with me, for a little while?”

See the full post

247 notes - Posted May 1, 2022

#4

Not In My Wildest Dreams

This is a continuation of my fic Not Possible, which you can find here, but can definitely still be read as a stand-alone.

Warning: If you’re familiar with my brand of smut you know this will be very explicit. Read: lots of sexually explicit detail, lots of dirty talk, lots of language, lots of kink. Absolutely not safe for work or young readers.

Happy V Day, lovers! 💙

Elriel. 6k words. Total smutfest.

He was going to burst into flames. Absolutely combust at the seams and burn the entire River House to the ground.

An hour and fifty-seven fucking minutes. That’s how long he had been made to sit here watching Elain eat. Watch her lips wrap around her fork as she took delicate bites of the meal laid out in front of the Inner Circle at their monthly family dinner. Watch her mouth split into an adorable smile as Cassian said something ridiculous. Watch her throat bob as she swallowed her wine. Watch her creamy, elegant neck twitch when she threw back her head in laughter.

The large double doors of the dining room had been flung wide open, allowing the balmy, summer night air to breeze loftily through the space, but it did little to quell the burning of his taut skin. Mercifully, they were finally up to dessert—an enormous platter of cakes and tarts replacing the grilled chicken, bread, fresh scallops and bright salads that were there a moment before.

Elain hovered off her seat to reach over Nesta and select a strawberry custard tart, the front of her low-back gown draping at the bust slightly as she did so. Pausing on her way back to her seat, she gave Azriel seated across from her a clandestine little smile when she noticed his gaze zeroed in on her chest. That little minx. His hands flexed around his utensils with such force that he thought he may warp his fork, rendering it useless.

“Feyre, pass the cream, please?”

Azriel almost groaned. She was doing this on purpose. She knew. She knew it was taking every fibre of his control, every ounce of his training-- expertly honed over the past 500 years-- to not leap over the dining table and tackle her into the air, spiriting her far away. Or simply shattering completely and ravishing her on the fucking table itself, audience be damned.

She dolloped a generous amount of the whipped cream onto her tart, a rogue droplet landing on her chest just where the swell of her breast begun to curve out. She looked down in feigned dismay and delicately swiped it off with a finger, promptly popping it into her mouth to clean the pad of her digit, her full lips wrapping around the tip.

Azriel’s knee slammed into the underside of the table, the crockery clattering on impact.

His family all turned to him, expressions ranging from curious perplexment to baffled amusement. Amren smirked over the rim of her wineglass at him from the head of the table.

Morrigan tsked. “You Illyrians are so large,” Mor groused from beside him, righting the toppled water goblet before her. “Even with Feyre’s custom furniture, you always seem to bumble your way around.” He saw it for what it was; an innocent excuse to keep everyone ignorant of what was transpiring under his skin. “Here Az, have some carrot cake,” Mor continued, lumping a generous slice on the plate in front of him.

He threw Mor a grateful smile. Whether she had simply guessed, or explicitly knew about he and Elain, he knew he could trust her to keep this secret. Elain and Azriel hadn’t confided to anyone about their secret relationship yet. But Mor had always been astutely observant, she needed to be, in order to survive her years in the Court of Nightmares before her escape. Lately, she had become a sort of buffer between Azriel and Elain and the rest of their family, a scapegoat-- as Cassian had often done between them previously.

“Funny, I’ve never had any complaints about my largeness,” Cassian quipped. Nesta threw him a look and promptly elbowed him in the ribs.

“Swine,” Mor jabbed, laughter lacing her words.

Everyone eased into conversation again and Azriel faded back into the periphery, where he was most comfortable. He dared flick his eyes over to Elain, and was met with her warm brown eyes, sparkling with mischievous delight. She raised her spoon to her lips, piled high with cream and strawberries and her eyes fluttered shut at the taste, a delicate moan escaping her throat. A little cream caught on the corner of her mouth.

He inhaled deeply, biting back a groan. She was going to kill him.

Another 40 minutes of blissful agony later, his family finally started to peel off, taking their leave to their various places of residence across Velaris.

“Elain, are you staying here tonight?” Feyre knew Elain had been increasingly spending more nights at the Town House if it were more convenient for her duties the following day.

“I have to be up early to help an elderly Fae with his garden in the morning, I’ll be staying at the Town House.” A pretty lie. “But, do you need anything?” She glanced toward Nyx, asleep in his fathers’ arms after spending most of the family dinner mashing potatoes into the cherrywood dining table with his chubby little hands.

“No not at all. Go. I can winnow you- “

“I can take her,” Azriel all but cut off his High Lady, having the good sense to look abashed at Feyre’s bemused raised eyebrows before continuing, “I am headed into the city proper to check in with a few of my charges before I retire, it will be on my way.”

Feyre hummed and smiled a little smile, waving her hand in polite dismissal. She turned to follow her mate up the stairs toward the wing containing their personal quarters, no doubt to put their sleeping son to bed.

Finally alone, he turned to Elain, a blazing look in his hazel eyes, and opened his arms. “Are you ready, my lady?”

“I’m always ready, Shadowsinger.” Her coy little smile was just for him. It made his skin feel too tight, stretched across his bones and ready to burst.

Two long strides of his powerful legs and he was in front of her, sweeping her up into his arms. He paced to the open doors of the dining room, leaping off the balcony, his mighty wings catching the breeze and launched them into the balmy night sky.

As soon as he had crossed over the sprawling grounds of the manor, Elain sighed deeply and he felt her body melt deliciously in his arms, as if she’d been holding her breath the entire time they were with the others. Their precious secret bundled up in her chest, tenderly wrapping it in her soft embrace and shrouding it, protecting it, from their loveable yet opinionated family.

See the full post

247 notes - Posted February 14, 2022

#3

Don’t Hold Back

Ok don’t come at me about this, I’ve only read the CC series once and I’m aware this isn’t perfectly in character. I didn’t have a whole heap to go on ok. But we desperately need more Nightbright content so I took matters into my own hands.

It’s very smutty, and ignores some things in HOSAB purely so I can get this to work but here we are.

Also, if you haven’t finished reading CC2 this is spoilery, scroll past NOW!

Ruhn x Daybright. 4.3k words. NSFW

Ruhn swung the front door of his home in The Old Square open and stilled, setting his face in a scowl at the triarii member that stood there.

“Prince,” the Hind sneered, her beautiful face set in a mask of contemptuousness. “I have matters to discuss. Members of your Aux said I could find you at your…home.” The last word dripped with disdain as she remained standing out in the street, her eyes flicking over the sad excuse for living quarters that the Prince of the Fae insisted on inhabiting.

“How gracious of them,” his voice exuded annoyance. “I’ll have to tell them that next time my whereabouts are queried, they keep their mouths shut.” The last word snapped from his mouth with a flash of his teeth. Ruhn schooled his face into a look of utter derision as he haughtily stepped aside and allowed the Hind to enter his home.

As soon as the worn door had snicked shut behind her, the cold mask was dropped and he took her small hand in his, cupping her cheek in his other palm as he gazed down into her exquisite face. “Did anyone follow you?” His voice was gentler now. The shadows of ire behind his bright eyes gone.

“Mordoc is prowling the streets in the CBD. Pollux remains behind at the Committium, standing guard of Celestina and Ephraim’s private quarters.” Ruhn winced at the forced mating of the two archangels.

Lidia too, had relinquished her cruel mask now. The voice of the Hind replaced in favour of that of Agent Daybright, the voice he had utterly fallen head over heels for and that filled his dreams. The voice that was truly her. The voice that so few even knew existed.

“Let’s make this time count, then.” The prince smirked conspiratorially, his lip ring glinting in the faded firstlights that dimly illuminated the foyer. He twisted toward the dilapidated staircase, her hand still firmly clasped in his as he led her past the living room where Declan, Flynn and Ithan were sprawled across the sagging, stained couch. Declan was hunched over typing furiously at his laptop, whilst Flynn and Ithan were jostling each other, engrossed in killing the others’ avatar in a videogame.

“Hey Lids,” Declan called after her, never lifting his gaze from the screen before him, at the same time as Flynn hollered “Whattup, Doe!” The three fire sprites draped around Flynn’s shoulders like a boa ooohed and giggled at the nickname.

She smiled back at them over her shoulder and allowed herself to be all but dragged by Ruhn as he impatiently bounded up the stairs toward his room. “Throw her over your shoulder, why don’t you,” Ithan muttered, followed by something that sounded suspiciously like territorial fae males.

No sooner had Ruhn closed the door behind her, he turned and cradled her face between his palms, kissing her soundly on her sensuous mouth, smearing her perfectly applied red lipstick. She sighed, her lips falling open, granting access for his tongue to sweep into her mouth to expertly stroke and lave at her. She clutched at his tattooed biceps as his plush lips slanted across hers, attempting to keep him close as began to pull away, lightly sucking her full bottom lip as he did so.

“How long do we have?” he whispered.

Her eyes flicked down, a glimmer of sadness crossing her features as she whispered back, “That depends on how long Ephraim keeps Celestina occupied for. Pollux will be asking for me not long after.”

Ruhn tried to reign in his sneer at the male’s name. It wasn’t often that Lidia joined her cadre and came to Valbara from her post in Forvos with Emphraim, and it had proven even more difficult for them to orchestrate this secret rendezvous. To see her privately, as Lidia, and not in public as the cruel farce that is the Hind— without the Hammer loitering around— was truly a rarity. Ruhn counted himself lucky for the time he could get, seldom as it was.

She had been pulling away from Pollux as much as she could without rousing too much suspicion. Either feigning covert missions or volunteering for additional assignments whilst in Lunathion, if she were required to travel with Ephraim whilst he visited. She would even often opt for night duties to avoid having to be alone with Pollux in the Committium barracks. But she had to keep up appearances, and she was no stranger to living a double life.

“I can’t wait to watch you rip him limb from limb,” Ruhn snarled savagely. A feral grimace bloomed across her face at the image, but she tucked away the violent thoughts. Time with Ruhn was preciously rare, she didn’t want to spend it growling and brooding.

“How about,” she started, a solitary, elegant finger tracing the whorls of tattoos down his muscular forearms, “Instead of talking about what I will one day do to destroy his body,” she continued coyly, now pressing a palm against his broad chest, the back of his legs hitting the mattress of his bed, “I show you precisely what I want to do with yours, now, Prince.”

He growled again, although an entirely different emotion was emanated this time, her toes curling in her boots at the sound. She grasped the hem of his black t-shirt in her hands and hefted it over his head. At the same time, Ruhn reached for the buttons of her white blouse and manically fumbled at them, the desperate need to get each other naked suddenly overwhelming.

Ridding each other of all offending clothing and hidden weapons between them, breathing coming in shallow pants, Ruhn grasped the back of her neck, hand tangled up in her long golden hair, and angled her face how he wanted it. His eyes softened when they beheld her open, regal face—her smooth pale skin, her large sparkling amber eyes, her truly intoxicating scent that had haunted him day and night.

Lidia’s red tinted lips parted, and, knowing Ruhn would always wait for her to make the first move— always wait for her consent— she reached up on her toes, bridging the gap between them, and pressed her lips to his. Her eyes fluttered closed and she kissed him so deeply he couldn’t help but melt into it.

She had missed him. It had been so long since she’d held him, and these stolen little moments were never enough. Always left her wanting more. Left her aching for the Fae Prince. She didn’t know she could harbour these types of feelings for anyone. She always thought of herself as incapable of being so…soft.

She pushes his chest again with a small palm and he reluctantly tears his lips away, wondering if he’s done something wrong. Before he can think too long on it however, he notes the mischief in her eyes and, so quickly that he barely has time to react, she’s shoved him again, causing him to flop heavily onto the bed behind him.

Lidia crawls up his gloriously naked body, straddling his strong legs, her fingers idly fiddling with the piercing through his nipple. She croons down at him, a teasing edge to her voice, “Why Agent Night, what would your superiors say if they saw you so readily subservient in the face of a foe?”

The corner of his mouth twitches into a crooked, sultry smile. “I’m secure enough in my masculinity to be submissive if my lady enjoys it, Agent Daybright.”

Sprawled out beneath her, he smirks, throwing her a flirty wink as his hands come up to brush the soft skin around her taut waist, thumbs sweeping across her ribcage. Her eyes turn molten at the scene.

“Yeah you are,” she mutters before she tips at the waist and kisses him hungrily now. She sweeps her tongue into his mouth — tasting him, savouring him — and sucks his bottom lip between hers, giving his lip ring a flick of her tongue for good measure. Ruhn feels his balls tighten, hips jerking off the bed into hers, granting him the cock-hardening knowledge of just how ready she is for him. He groans as she pulls away, shifting to tuck her face into the crook of his neck, her tongue laving at a particularly tender spot at the base of his throat.

See the full post

262 notes - Posted March 21, 2022

#2

Azriel Week Day 4: Bat Boys

Drunk Confessions. 950 words

Azriel sits on the floor of Rhys’ office in the River manor, his head lolling back onto the plush seat of the sofa at his back. Burying his scarred fingers into the warm rug beneath him, he watches the flames as the fire crackles in the hearth.

Cassian stretches forward from his perch atop the couch where he lounges, long fingers reaching for the ornate decanter of amber liquid they’ve been sipping on all evening. Refilling his crystal tumbler and Azriel’s, he then hands it off to Rhys who is sprawled on the velvet armchair opposite them. His long legs are stretched out before him, and wings spill out across the floor; a show of utter ease for the High Lord.

“I still don’t know why we couldn’t go,” Cassian grumbles for what feels like the hundredth time that evening.

“Let it go, Cass. It’s been hours. They just wanted a fun ladies’ night,” Azriel moans, truly exasperated, having repeated the mantra numerous times already.

“And what, I’m not fun?!”

Pure indignation laces Cassian’s voice as he squawks those words from behind him.

Azriel sighs heavily, angling his face towards the heavens, seeking the patience required to deal with his petulant brother from the Mother, or the Cauldron, or whoever is listening.  

“No, you’re just not a lady.”

“Technicalities…” Cassian grumbles again, his toes digging into the arm of the couch where he kicks at it impatiently as he lays sprawled across the deep leather cushions.

Rhys chuckles before a wistful look crosses his features and utters, “They deserve it. A night out.”

Cassian and Azriel pause their bickering for a moment, both staring longingly toward the ceiling, lost in their own thoughts, before replying in unison, “Yeah.”

“They deserve it all.”

The three males all still, their minds filling with thoughts of the Archeron women, and what their lives would have consisted of if they had never crossed paths. If fate had never been so serendipitous to allow the three Illyrians the honour of knowing them, loving them.

Their little rabble-rousing trio had only had each other to depend on for so long; centuries, really. Even though they’d hated each other at first, they'd grown to be closer than brothers, truly proving its the family you choose rather than the one you are born into that defines you, lifts you up, and loves you. It was no wonder that these indomitable females had managed to ingrain themselves in their lives so thoroughly that they couldn’t imagine a life without them. They had always been destined to be here, with them. 

Cassian clears his throat thickly before rasping, “Nesta, she does this thing in the bath—”

“Caaass,” Rhys groans, “We don’t want to hear about you and Nesta in the bath.”

“It’s not like that, you prick.” He throws a beaded cushion, Feyre’s pick no doubt, at the High Lord before continuing. “I have this damned spot, right between my wings that I can never properly reach. She always scratches it for me. Every day, whether its itchy or not. She saw me struggling one time… that’s all it took.”

Rhys smiles at his brother faintly, taking another sip from his glass and allowing the liquor to further warm his insides. The thought of Nesta being so soft was still a side of her he had yet to make acquaintance with, but he suspected she preferred it that way. All the same, he was glad his brother had found happiness with her.

“Feyre calls me best daddy—” Rhys murmurs before abruptly halting as Azriel splutters, choking on the sip of drink he had just taken, and Cassian sprays a mouthful of whiskey all over Azriel’s head through pursed lips at Rhys’ admission.

“Not like that, you assholes!” Rhys interjects, scowling at his brothers’ horror-struck faces, throwing the beaded pillow back at them.

“With Nyx. She knows the kind of father I had. None of us had good role models in that department. She knows, that it’s a point of…trepidation. That I’m terrified I’ll become like him, or my child will fear me, resent me. I always hear her talking to Nyx, calling me the best daddy. I love it. I— I hope she means it.”

“She does,” Azriel utters simply, having recovered from the asphyxiation he briefly suffered, his face conveying nothing but the truth of the words he had spoken. For out of all of them, it can be argued that Azriel’s father was the worst monster of them all.

Azriel tilts the glass between a thumb and finger, his eyes downcast as he murmurs, “Elain will always capture my attention from across the room and smile. Every time her eyes meet mine, she gifts me with that smile. No one has ever been as happy to see me as she is. Every damn time…” he trails off.

Rhys peers from Azriel’s love-struck face, to Cassian’s, who is sprawled behind the Shadowsinger in a tangle of long limbs and large wings. A look of quiet elation permeates across the General’s face, feelings of shared contentment for his own brother’s long-awaited bliss.

Silence fills the study for a beat of several moments before Rhys raises his glass in a toast. His voice is hoarse, thick with emotion, both for himself and the life his brothers have been granted through the twists of fate that some higher motion of power bestowed upon them. Their chosen females providing that last divine piece of the half-a-millennium old puzzle.

“Here’s to those strong, stubborn, stunning Archeron women. May they never figure out just how much better they could have done than our sorry asses.”

“Cheers to that,” Azriel quietly agrees, clinking his glass with Rhys and then Cass.

They all drink deeply, contemplating their incredibly good fortune, before a shadow passes Cassian’s face once more.

See the full post

274 notes - Posted August 4, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Junior Spymaster

Azriel Week Day One: spymaster

Fluff. 1.2k words.

Azriel fought the smile that was threatening to curl his lips as he lay in bed, perfectly still, feigning sleep. The footsteps shuffling across the floorboards of his bedroom were short, hurried, a little too excited. The soft drag of fabric across the hardwood followed the footsteps like a shadow, and from the dim light he could sense shining behind his closed eyelids, he could tell that it was still early dawn.

Very early. The sun was most likely only just peeking over the horizon.

The footsteps halted at his bedside, and a stifled giggle was promptly muffled by a blanket that was surely being pressed across the bedroom creeper’s lips. Azriel braced his abdominals for what he knew was to come, just as he knew his daughters’ knees were bending, readying herself to push off the ground as she fluttered her little wings and landed feet first on his stomach, her bottom following soon after.

Umph! He heard the little puff of her breath leave her as she landed on his stomach, shuffling to straddle his torso. She was still working on her crash landings, or rather, learning how to try to avoid them.

“Wake up daddy! I got you!” Rune squealed, her little fingers poked at his face, giggling as she did so. The sound of her tinkling laughter filled his heart with unbridled joy. He never thought he’d be the reason for a youngling’s happiness.

Azriel made a display of acting surprised, exclaiming theatrically “Rue! You got me good today, baby.”

Rune giggled and wrapped her little arms around his neck, stretching herself over her father’s chest, pulling her blanket up with her. A broad hand came up to rest on her back, stroking her long, unruly mane. So much like his own but softer, finer in the delicate way only a child’s hair can be. He breathed in her honey and morning dew scent.

“I’m a good sneaker, you know.”

Azriel smiled down at his four-year-old. Her little feet were planted either side of his waist as she rested her chin on a fist, her elbows digging into his chest.

Azriel arched an eyebrow, regarding his daughter. “A sneaker? Or a spy?”

“Oh, a spy!” she corrected.  “I’m gonna be Spymaster for Nyxie when we’re all grown up. Just like you and Uncle Rhysie.”

Azriel chuckled, “Oh really?”

She nodded matter of factly. “Ahuh! I’m good at finding secrets.”

He snorted, knowing very well how much of a snoop Rune was. He barely had a spare second with her mother alone.

“I know you are. But you see, what you also must understand is that you have to be good at keeping secrets, too.”

Azriel gave her a smirk as he bopped her on the nose pointedly. It was only just last week that Rune had announced to his brothers at family dinner that mama and daddy were doing yoga in bed again when Rhys had been ribbing Azriel about missing morning training sessions for three consecutive days. Cassian had looked like he was about to combust from laughter.

“I can keep ‘em!” Her bright eyes gazed back into his, the perfect portrait of righteous indignation painted across her features. She looked so much like him, big hazel eyes, raven black hair and golden-brown skin, thankfully still smooth and mostly unblemished. The only thing marring her perfect skin were the regular knicks and grazes a happy child would encounter. But her temperament, her way with people and her kindness, that was all her mother.

“Oh really? Didn’t you tell me just yesterday at bedtime that Benedict has been sneaking mama’s cookies from the kitchen?”

Rune blushed, fiddling with her blanket between her hands, her mind working to form a rebuttal to her father’s accusation.

“Yeah but… I’m just being a good spy for you daddy! You still the master now, so I tell you all the secrets. But when I’m the master, you gotta tell me when Beny steals the cookies!”

“Well in that case I guess you were just being a loyal subject then, is that right? It had nothing to do with tattling on your brother.”

“Yep! Mama said that the master is nothing without the network, daddy.” She waved her arms about as she spoke and that combined with the stern look on her little face had Azriel grimacing to contain his amusement.

“That’s very true, Rue. Mama is very smart; the Master is nothing without his network. That is why you have to all work together to protect the ones you love and the ones that trust you to protect them.”

Rune nodded solemnly; glimpses of such wisdom shown beyond her years already.

“Is that why you’re Spymaster daddy? So you can protect mama and Beny and me?”

Azriel smiled at his daughter. A whisper of sadness at the edge of his mind as he thought about the solitary reason he had been employed as Spymaster by Rhys’ cruel father centuries ago.

Shadowsinger.

See the full post

522 notes - Posted September 18, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[its-your-mind]

[kkoct-ik]

yttdisms now im moved in

[circuscountdowns]

I love your interpretation of the lamb, who's almost always calm and not much surprises them anymore. When's the last time they had a serious emotional moment, either angry or sad, where their facade totally cracked? I can't help but imagine it must have been a very long time ago.

sometimes you find out that the divinity you worshipped wholeheartedly has a mortal name and was once the brother of the bishops you vowed to slaughter, chained for a petty familial disagreement, trivializing the deaths of your people, and proving that all gods were inherently false idols as they were made through crowns and not born, and you have to separate your feelings for your god from the pedestal you put him on, and reassess what it actually means to kill a god. But figure it out quick because you’ll have to lay your life down for that god soon to set him free ❤️

[breakbleheavens]

✨ her ✨

TAYLOR SWIFT Taylor Swift: The Eras Tour (2023) dir. Sam Wrench

[m1nsur0]

[JTTW OC: 智平] “分桃” The Shared Peach

Originally an act of courtship, Wukong would always share a peach with the Violet Dragon, taking a single bite to ensure it was of high enough standard for him. No matter how many years pass, most mornings spent together begin with the Monkey King passing a peach with a bite taken out of it to his lover.

[timethehobo]

Yall don’t think I have a type, right? 🧐 //sarcasm

[poirott]

David Suchet on his moustache in AGATHA CHRISTIE'S POIROT tv show → Studio 10 interview, Aug 13 2019

"By the step leading up into the sleeping car stood a young French lieutenant, resplendent in uniform, conversing with a small lean man, muffled up to the ears, of whom nothing was visible but a pink-tipped nose and the two points of an upward curled moustache. [...] Two men below her window were talking French. One was a French officer, the other was a little man with enormous moustaches. She smiled faintly. She had never seen anyone quite so heavily muffled up." - Agatha Christie, Murder on the Orient Express

[mynabirb]

This sunshine beats down on the best day ever!

[ratwithhands]

Read Right to Left (Manga Format)

I have returned to watching demon slayer after a year and it came up while I was having a serious late night talk with my big sister. I was talking about the relationship between Michikatsu/Kokushibo and Yoriichi and it turns out we both see each other in Yoriichi's shoes and ourselves in Michikatsu's place. Definitely surprising, but really relieving to know that we both worry too much and we are not so far apart in skill as we believe.

This is technically the first piece of fanart I've ever made for the characters in Demon Slayer, I have made OCs before but I never drew an actual character from the story. For context this is mostly just a fun "what if" scenario with them meeting in the afterlife. I like to think Yoriichi's love would reawaken Michikatsu's humanity.

[esmes]

2023 revival todd/lovett + touch

[solaestial]

new kids in town 😳

(bonus ver without omori ui under the cut)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

favourite variant covers? 👀

oh lord i cant think much right now but i know i love this cover a lot.... whot he hell gave charles a juice jox... scott on tha fucki tire swing is gonna kill me i love them all so much guys thats my fucjing FAM theyr emy darlings...

i also thought this cover was a lil sillly ..... i love silly.... erik looks like a beetle again and i love it when erik looks like a beetle

one more cover i like is this one:

tho- and forgive me for i dont have my issue on hand to demonstrate- the physical versin of this has parts of the cover be reflective/metal like and i think thats pretty nifty .... very cool even..

i also love the RoM covers where eriks in that uckinnn black sleeveless otufit ???? gen the sexiest thin iget to look at when rereading this run i love it so much

tho ithis is also na incredbly zesty cover i wouldnt mind owning this either

like bro relax no one is TAKING HIM from you ...

[r-aindr0p]

Glam metal Idia ✨️

And actually the second time I draw him in a glam outfit heehee. That concludes the lil' drawings of my faves in outfits from different musical scenes

Well, almost..

Country Rook take me home jumpscare

I put way too much effort in this joke no way I'm rendering this

+lil bonus of all of the faves, rook is casually comitting country crimes and got banned from many states

[jacobglaser]

Well this absolutely sucks.

[heynhay]

citizens! i have heard your (subconscious) pleas!

several of you sent me klance song recs so i just decided why not make us a cute little collab playlist for the klanceissance 2023?? add all your favorite klance-y songs but please treat it with care!

(this should be a collaborator link but if its not working lmk!)

(Link)