#i hope you all like the introduction!

[utterlyazriel]

whom the shadows sing for — (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: not gonna even acknowledge the time break between chappies... all i'm gonna say happy cassian chappie ! <3! i hope u all enjoy it mwah thank u for reading

word count: 3.8k

synopsis: Adjusting to life in Velaris means learning to train with new, friendly faces. A tentative friendship forms. Azriel keeps his distance.

CHAPTER NINE :: FRIENDS (IN OTHER PLACES)

Whoosh.

Training staff gripped tightly in your calloused hands, you swing with a muscle memory built over decades, the stick whistling as it cuts through the air with deadly precision. Strike. Twist. Bend. Strike, twice as hard.

You're going through the motions. A simple warm-up, running a drill that you've done enough times you could probably do it in your sleep. The movements are familiar, easy. Routine.

If you close your eyes, you could almost imagine you're still in Exordor.

Except... there's no familiar wind current to perform its melody in the early morning, dancing through the mountainside trees. No frozen chill to the air around you. No crunch of snow beneath your feet to throw your balance. No bound chest to chafe your skin.

No looking over your shoulder in pure panic at every unexpected noise.

Well, not quite that last one. It's a habit you're dedicated to breaking for the sake of your shot nerves — but evidently failing, considering how you straighten up and whip around when the door leading out to the training ring shudders open.

You hold your breath on instinct and clutch the training staff tighter.

Stepping out into the early morning air, the dawn still unbroken, is another Illyrian warrior.

Mother, how many of them were there around here?

You hadn't got to meet anyone else after that encounter on the balcony, almost exactly one week ago. Hadn't exactly wanted to either.

You hadn't even wanted to see Azriel again so soon after the churning, sickening twist of emotions you had barely managed to stumble through after your severe reawakening.

He hadn't come to see you.

You hadn't asked.

Besides Madja, Rhysand was the only new face you had come to know. He had taken to coming by your room a couple times over the week, checking on the progress of your healing, particularly sympathetic on the state of your wings. Revealed his own with a polite flourish.

He was... different than you were expecting. Perhaps you were learning that rumours are not everything — certainly it's clear that there is more to Rhysand than what first appears.

As Highlord, he had to discuss your potential living situations once you were healed enough to leave the infirmary.

I meant what I said. He had said, violet eyes kind as he hovered at the end of your bed. You're no prisoner here. You'll be free to go wherever you wish, even back to Exordor if that's what you decide.

And if I don't? You had whispered, your gaze fixed on the fine sheets of the bed. If I decide that... I have no home there anymore?

Then you'll have a home here. For as long as you would like.

And though it overrode every single instinct you had learned to trust, everything that had kept you alive this long, you chose to take his word for it.

Rhys said no harm would befall you in Velaris and you would be welcome here for as long as wanted.

But... that didn't mean you were exactly looking to make new friends.

Staring the newcomer that enters the balcony with much less grace than that of usual Illyrians, you watch him closely, not quite daring to take a breath.

At a first glance, you had thought it might be Azriel—heart leaping up your throat—but that was quickly washed away. Something in you knew from the hair standing up on the nape of your neck, before you even saw him properly, that this male was utterly unfamiliar to you.

He's taller, you realise. His hair is a longer and he doesn't quite move with the grace of the Shadowsinger — though, perhaps you are just so unused to seeing a male so relaxed. So caught off guard, in fact, that when he turns he gives a little yelp in surprise.

"Fuck!" He says, one of his large hands jumping out and clenching into a fist —his whole body switching to a fighting stance, you realise— before he relaxes again. His fist uncurls into a less threatening open palm.

"I- sorry, just didn't realise anyone else was out here." His fighting stance melts away, open palm still extended. He gives what you think might be a friendly smile.

You don't respond, only gripping the training staff a little tighter. Every hackle is raised, the hair on the back of your neck prickling, and your entire body winding itself up to prepare to fight, if it comes down to it.

The male seems to realise this as his next move is to raise both hands, palms out, the universal signal for surrender. They're large, tanned, and void of the scars you've come to know on Azriel.

However, where there are usually shimmering cobalt blue siphons, this newcomer has dazzling ruby red ones instead. You count each of his. Seven.

Your throat tightens — like all of Illyria, you've heard of this warrior too. The Lord of Bloodshed.

He doesn't exactly look so fearsome at the moment, his expression easy-going, even friendly, from behind his raised hands.

He seems to be waiting for you to make a move or to speak but after a moment, he realises neither are going to happen.

"Rhys said there might be another Illyrian around." He says, taking a tentative step forward, in the direction of the training ring, letting his hands drop to his side. You notice how he tucks his wings in a little more, like he might be trying to be respectable. Polite.

He's watching you closely. "Didn't mention you were a female, though."

Instinct makes you want to sneer in response — the only time Illyrian males bother bring up the differences in sex is to make some nasty comment about the biological weakness of females.

Not born to be warriors. They spit. Fragility is bred into them from the moment they're conceived. Breakable. Less than. A female in the training ring has as much place does as a male does in the kitchen.

But this male... says female in a way you've never quite heard before. As though he's somewhere closer to awe.

"My name is Cassian," The male introduces himself, his tentative steps becoming more of a stroll as he wanders across to the weapons stand. He eyes them halfheartedly, his focus still on you.

He turns lightly, tucking in one of his wings to peer back at you. "And yours is...?"

You still haven't moved, only tracking his movements with a slight shift of your eyes. Part of you wonders if he already knows your name and he's simply being polite.

Cassian nods as though you've spoken, despite the fact you haven't made a sound.

"Okay, not a big talker, I get it." He dips his head in a little nod, giving you an easy smile, then a quick wink. "Promise I don't bite."

No reaction. You’re not entirely sure if that’s a joke or not.

Either way, Cassian turns and focuses on his selection, pulling one of the training staffs off the weapons rack into his strong, sure grip.

Despite Rhysand's promise, your heart begins to rabbit wildly.

You wonder if this is some sickening game of cat and mouse—if he's perhaps going to tire you out before he selects his true weapon. If he wants you to know he can best you, even without a blade at his disposal.

You're a decent fighter—hell, a great one even—but you know better than to expect to come out on top against the Lord of Bloodshed.

You finally force yourself to move; shifting your feet to face him, you sink into a fighting stance, staff poised to face him, prepared to bare your teeth.

Cassian blinks. It takes another moment for him to realise that none of his friendliness is working to thaw your iciness. He quickly sets the training staff back down with a clatter, raising his hands once more.

"Woah," He says, giving a small shake of his head. "Not looking to fight. Unless you and I are in that ring—" He gestures to the training ring behind him. "I will never try to fight you. And... I hope you can say the same for me."

You don't even realise you've released your breath until you deflate a little, relief coming in small, incremental waves.

He doesn't want to fight. There's no proving yourself, at least not today.

Maybe some day in the near future, he'll demand you get in the ring to earn your space here—because that was the first thing you ever learned as an Illyrian warrior. But not today.

Reluctant and relieved all at once, you lower your training staff.

Your hesitance or silence doesn't seem to hinder Cassian. In fact, he smiles at the motion.

He's quite handsome, you note. In that rugged way, not quite so classically handsome as Azriel. The unexpected thought makes you flush. You shake it away with a shiver.

"You have your reasons for your unease I bet," Cassian continues, his hands drifting back to his sides. His wings have begun to spread out a little more, as if relaxing.

"And if you want me to piss off, I certainly will. My goal is not to make you uncomfortable in the slightest. But... well, I do have just one question."

He pauses, as if waiting for something. Permission, you realise faintly, which surprises you enough that you give a rather jerky nod, permitting him to ask his question.

A brilliant smile spreads across Cassian's face. "Did you really stab Azriel with a fork?"

The question takes you by utter surprise, fresh bewilderment rippling across your features. You shift back almost awkwardly, stepping out of your fighting stance. The memory from months ago rises up inside, the first meeting in your lonely shelter.

How did he know that? He could he know that?

"I—" You trip over the words, not entirely sure how to answer the question. You can't quite tell why he's asking—is he assessing you as a threat? Your voice is tentative and guarded as you murmur out, "...yes?"

You don't think it would've mattered how you answered truly, as the moment you confirm it, Cassian roars in laughter, his head thrown back and his hand clutching his belly. He laughs loudly for a moment, shaking his head with a fond smile.

"Holy shit, I thought Rhys was kidding! Cauldron, what I would've given to see that." His hazel eyes glitter brightly, as though he's excited. "Was he surprised? I bet he was. Where did you stab him?"

His easy tone, like he's talking to an old friend, takes you back. You find yourself responding with an unexpected ease. Looking back on it now, it is a little funny.

"He was," You nod, nearly smiling at Cassian's enthusiasm. Your lips twitch and you gesture to your neck, somewhat awkwardly, miming the motion. "In the neck."

Cassian laughs again. "Oh, and I bet he'd deny the whole thing if it ever came up."

You don't know quite what to say to that—Azriel hadn't ever brought it up and you certainly weren't going to remind him of it. You tilt your head to the side a bit, an unknown feeling making itself known in the pit of your stomach. An anxiety of an entirely different kind.

The male before you is not an enemy. He's not an ally either... and you can't understand what he gains from talking to you.

You can't even fathom the idea that he might just want to be your friend.

So, you turn. Tighten your grip and resume the exercise that had been interrupted. Muscles groan as you work through their achiness, slowly becoming warmer as the hot blood pumps around your body.

Despite what Madja had said a week ago on that balcony, today was actually the first morning you were allowed to train.

For the last seven days, the exercise you were restricted to was mere stretches; only enough to ensure each of your wings could extend fully and that your limbs could move without serious cause for concern.

It had driven you stir crazy.

The only time you ever skipped so many days without training was during your cycle—something you had mercifully missed the end of this time around, hidden away in your unconsciousness.

So, at the first opportunity, when you rose from your bed this morning and Madja hadn't given you that pointed stare and instead gave you directions, you had found the training area. Began with old routines, if only for the fact you don't know who you are when you're not training.

Inhaling now, the wood of the training staff creaks beneath your iron grip. You're trying desperately to use it as a tether, to some semblance of normal for yourself. It's difficult when there's so many changes lurking.

The solid stone makes you sturdier than before. There's no snow beneath your feet to sink your boots into, to find your balance on. But your injuries aren't entirely healed either.

The pain is not fresh but it's still hindering enough to be a nuisance. Your left ear still twinges from time to time—sometimes it seems to hum so loudly you can't hear clearly, others it dulls altogether. Neither are particularly pleasant to experience.

Pain, however, you have plenty of experience in. Gritting your teeth and pushing through it is practically standard for the Illyrian way; especially when you know your body. You know how much it can take. You know it's been through worse.

But the pesky problem with your ear keeps you off balance, just enough that it shows in your motions.

You keep stumbling around like a goddamn fledgling with every new attempt, footing clumsy, which makes you burn in humiliation because that's what you learn first. It's impossible not to feel unendingly frustrated as decades of training all get shifted slightly to the left.

It doesn't help either that there's still those holes in the edges of your wings.

Fae healing is incredibly advanced but even so, there is only so much magic can do.

Lacerations can be healed, stabs and slices stitched up with ease — but a hole, torn forcibly in and through the delicate flesh of Illyrian wings? You know that you should be thanking the Mother that they even still work in their complete capacity.

The skin around where the stakes had been forced is puckered and stiff, whitened by the scar tissue and trauma. It had been sickening the first time you had curled them close around you and realised with a faint horror that you could technically see through them — a irregular circular gash preserved in either wing of how you'd been pinned down.

The air passes through them as you shift, causing an uneasy shiver. They don't catch on the wind quite the same as they did before.

You haven't taken to the skies yet. You're torn between your eagerness to fly again, to prove to yourself that they can still, and the sinking fear that that's something new you'll have to relearn as well.

So, instead, you run through the training drill for the nth time, trying to get back in sync with your own body. Trying to push past where it seems to falter and trying and failing to not care that your wavering movements now have an audience.

Watching him subtly out the corner of your eye, Cassian appears to be running drills of his own, a gentle warmup. He stretches his toned arms above his head, the motions limber and easy. Briefly, your mind wanders to Azriel's own morning training —never mind that you did have experience training with him over many mornings — and the most peculiar fluster flows through you.

You bite your cheek and rein in your drifting thoughts, gripping the staff tighter.

Strike. Twist. Bend. Strike, twice as hard. Your left eardrum squeals, jumping abruptly in volume at the motions, and though you manage to contain yourself to a wince, your twist goes off kilter.

Your wings stretch out to counterbalance but they don't catch the wind as well as you're used to. Your feet stumble to realign and all you can think is how fucking easy it would be decimate you in a fight in that second.

Something awful starts to grow in your throat and it takes a full moment to realise its the urge to cry, clawing up your throat.

You inhale shakily, eyes fixed on the stone beneath you, and will them away. You weren't a crier — but then again, never had you ever felt quite so utterly hopeless as you were right now.

You've always had this—always had the fight from within your bones, always had your body, always relied on your dexterity to push you forward.

Shadow covers the stone before you. Your head shoots ups, that same panic you can't shake jolting in your chest.

"Hi." Cassian says, giving a little two-fingered salute. He smiles kindly. "Cassian. We met maybe, uh, 5 minutes ago? Remember that?"

You blink at him, not even noticing how the distraction sends away the urge to cry. Swallowing thickly, you give a tentative nod.

"Fantastic. Great memory." His smile melts into a grin and though it sounds like he's teasing, you don't exactly feel like it you who's being made fun of. "I— I have no doubt you're an excellent fighter, especially considering you managed to land a hit on a warrior such as Azriel."

Cassian seems to hear his words only after he's said them and gives a minuscule frown. "Wait, don't tell him I said that. He'll never let me live it down."

When you don't react in amusement as he was aiming for, Cassian changes his tone again, more serious this time.

"Look, I might not be exactly sure what happened that meant you ended up here. I know it might not seem like a welcome change of pace but��� well- and what I mean to say is— I can see your missteps."

The admittance of your failings makes humiliation swell up within you. You avert your eyes. Cassian, aware of his awful blunder, barrels on.

"But I can see you're getting your feet again." He adds, softer than before. "After whatever happened to you and your wings, I can tell you're already doing better than most Illyrians would. I also know that everything is easier with a little support."

Your gaze tugs back to Cassian's face as his sentence ends, the offer within it leaving you momentarily dazed. He wants... to help you?

You open your mouth to say just that—but instead, say, "They... didn't tell you?"

Something foreign yanks on your heartstrings. You can't say you had expected privacy, not when Rhysand was already generously providing you with both medical aid and a place to lay low and recover. You were in no position to ask for more.

Suddenly, you become hyper aware of your wings and their gaping, obvious scars to pair with the thin white lines of the lashes adorned across them. You rein them back self-consciously, keeping them tucked close against your back. There's relief in that simple motion alone.

"It is not their story to tell." Cassian nods, grave and serious. "And, just as important, sharing it is not a requirement to be allow yourself a little support."

You don't have to tell him, if you don't want to.

Before you, an Illyrian male, like so many that you've detested all your miserable life, and he doesn't know a thing about you. He doesn't get to know what happened unless you decide to tell him.

You taste his words, mulling them over in your mind as you try to figure out what he means. In the heart of it, you can't understand what he truly stands to gain from this offer of support.

"What... kind of support?" You question warily.

Unthinkingly, your grip tightens on the training staff once more—a knee-jerk reaction to the idea of baring your vulnerabilities. It had been well-trained out of you. Connections of any kind risked exposure... and well, the one time in your life you had given it a go, it had only been proven true.

"Whatever you wish." Cassian grins, as if pleased you had asked that exact question. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind his ear and rattles off his list easily, with a slight shrug of his armoured shoulders. "Friendship? Training? Someone to listen when you need it or to drink your sorrows with? I've had plentiful practice with all."

He sends you another wink, teasing and easy like everything else about him. It's disarming actually, just how different he is from what you had been expecting from only the rumours around Exordor. Lord of Bloodshed. He's so...casual.

After another beat of silence, Cassian clears his throat when it becomes clear you aren't exactly jumping onto any of his initial offers. The caginess you exude is palpable and something ragged in Cassian's chest tears wider at whatever his mind conjures up about what might be lurking your past.

True to his word, Rhys hadn't delved into your story or how you came to end up here at the House of Wind.

All Cassian knew for sure is that Azriel had talked of training with a bastard some months ago and now, you were here. A female warrior from Exordor.

Cassian thinks that Azriel likely would've mentioned it if the bastard he was working with was female—but he hadn't. There's much more to your story, he can tell, and it seems to ripple from the edges of your wary, dangerous form at just a glance. Almost a full picture for him to realise, to see clearly.

But... these things were earned.

If Cassian wanted to be your friend, to know your story, he would do it the honourable and hard way.

He would become someone that you could trust in this new, unfamiliar place and he knew it was possible because what Cassian knew lay within him was reflected in you. The one clear part of the picture.

A warrior who knows themselves best when they're fighting.

"Train with me. Please." Cassian tries once more, ready to relent if it was too much, too soon. "There is a lot we can teach each other, I'm sure."

That seems to catch you by surprise, your brows jumping a fraction up your face. You school the expression away quickly but not before Cassian catches it. He nods.

"What do you say?" Cassian grins again, holding out his hand, palm up. Nonthreatening as can be. "Friends? Allies? Reluctant rooftop sharers? I'll take any happily."

You eye his hand, that still cautious air in your gaze, but Cassian can see as something settles within you. Tentatively, you reach forward and put your hand in his, giving it an awkward, stilted shake.

"I'll take allies for now," You say, somewhat demurely. It's taking a mountain load of trust for you to do so, Cassian knows. He does not take that trust lightly.

Cassian grins. "Allies it is."

[NEXT PART: SHADOWS]

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[moonshynecybin]

hi hello i'm back from the dead (temporary) and during the race yesterday. for the split second while marc was falling it seemed like he'd land right in front of the whole pack and now i need to dissect vale's reaction to that

oh my goooooood… okay FIRST we have to remember a few of things here. three pronged attack. 1. vale is hot girl repressed and has been convincing himself marc is the evilest motorcycle racer who ever lived for the better part of a decade, 2. the FACE he made when marc went FLYINGGGGG through the air last year at valencia (with jorge martin also crashing, this won pecco the title). like. okay! FUCK YOU! but. it also kind of pulls into perspective the fact that this IS a very normal part of the sport, and probably once marc got up and started moving (IT DID LOOK BAD THOUGH.) he was like okay hell yeah. protege wins second title. enemy crashed. ideal situation here.

3. my king is still SO fucking weird about injury in comparison to all these insane bitches and has been for a long time. but mostly post sic. he hates hearing about it, he CARES about the safety of himself and others, and he tries to instill that in those around him especially his large excitable homoerotic children. who never once listen to him. i’m THINKING of all of those riders safety meetings that he was at every goddamn race and would basically lead until sepang happened and he ghosted them for years either to avoid marc or as an impotent “protest” against racing direction. like he is VERY COMPLEX on this issue and he balances the plates of safety BUT he WILL let one drop if the grudge is there. and it’s there !! it’s been dropped !!!

so all of this to say. vale IS weird about injury. but he’s used to it. and he occasionally lets the petty streak shine the fuck through. so when something like that happens to MARC it’s all wrapped up in this. insane emotional cocktail i think (repression features here ! i really think it does !! tell yourself you hate him so if he gets injured WHICH HE WILL you care less !!!!). like he’ll cheer when marc crashes if it benefits his academy kid, but ALSO the most concrete step he ever took towards reconciliation was in 2016 after the rider in moto2 died, and he said that their feud wasn’t important in the scheme of something like that happening (SO much to think about like. he told the press and MARC that things had changed. amd that they could put it behind them but they really HADNT and he DIDNT.) so i think he has these flashes of concern and relief and doubt and resentment and WORRY alllllll of the time because marc does insane shit all of the time, but rarely does he let himself reach out about it… the resentment HAS to keep him warm at night so he ignores his better angels… i may care about you, but NEVER forget i still hate you….

[xxplastic-cubexx]

your mcavoy!charles is so incredibly squishable to me i just. like. the way everyone was talking about comics erik using comics charles’ waist as a stress toy? that’s how i feel about your mcavoy!charles but with literally all of him. i want to click and drag him at the corners to compress him like a photoshop layer. i want to put him in a hydraulic press and watch him pop in it. i want to melt him in my toaster oven<3 <- i am normal and can be trusted around fictional characters

hello Perfectly Normal And Hinged Xmen Fan anon sometimes people call me snap its lovely to meet you :)

[icewindandboringhorror]

finally finished all of one character's entire quests/optional dialogue/questions/etc.... 100,000 words... .... aughhh

[iluvmatt]

unearthly, a matt sturniolo fic. synopsis: in a small suburban area of boston, a group of teenagers—matthew sturniolo and his two triplet brothers, nick and chris, and a childhood friend of theirs, y/n—travel to an old destination named granger’s deathly hill; a place in which hadn’t been visited merely since the early 1970s. atop of the old haunted hill, the group soon realize things aren’t truly as picturesque as they imagined and conclude that they are in grave danger. as they meet people along the way, they realize that the journey home may be harder than expected. knowing that they are in a situation that could ultimately ruin their lives or end them entirely, they make up a plan to make it back home safe, or better yet, alive. amongst the chaos, while trying to save each other, matt and y/n realize that there is more to them than just friendship.

a basic overview and establishment of characters: growing up with the triplets always got you in difficult situations, let it be coming home late after playing games all night, watching horror movies until nick and chris cried, or now trailing up a haunted hill. whatever situation there was in the world, you were bound to get in it. matt was the nonchalant one, always down to do whatever the rest of the group wanted, as he just wanted to be included in a good time. matt loved being able to see you, even if it was doing the craziest things in the world. from chris knew about matt and his crush, but the rest of the group had no idea that you felt merely the same for matt, although nick seemed to have somewhat of an idea. now, as you venture to granger’s deathly hill, there is only one thing on your mind; how could you do something more extreme than any of the ghost adventures and terrifying trips to local bridges and not wonder about how you may never know when it’s the right time to tell matt that you love him? little did you know, that matt, who acted as if he wasn’t scared of a thing in the world, was thinking the same thing.

taglist: @taking-a-footnote-in-your-life​, @lostwonderwall​, @lomlolivia​, @sturniolomads​​, @kylespencersvocalcords, @stxrniqlo, @sophialimass, @loonielol, @siriusfahey, @getbillzoned, @kjd55, @ceceswritings​​, @dancingintheedark​, @yoongoboongo, reach out to be added!

masterlist © iluvmatt, 2023.

[ayyponine]

not to be a milennial but harry potter and the prisoner of azkaban really is that bitch....

[shtrawburrymilk]

I miss PTS but most of all Baratie&Alabasta sanji so bad. that guy was peak fiction

[leafith]

Okay, hello fellow sky people or whoever is watching this stuff. You know, since Leaf is finally finishing her fanfiction, maybe I can just drop this and continue when I have time...

A kind of introduction about every character and their changes. Here we are with the first one, the main character! This drawings will be present in some ending chapter idk. Also, I took inspiration from another creator, I'll try to tag them because they are totally amazing<3 @amity206 I love your art!

I'll probably continue when Creator's school won't take my time.

Also, two small facts that I forgot to add: Sentinekka has different nicknames as Sen' and Senny, and she has a really cute voice, so she can sing very well; she loves Aurora's songs (duh who doesn't?).

[sadsongsandstories]

Heya y'all!!!

Not exactly sure how this works, but I think this will be an introductory post of sorts, just in case anyone comes aknocking and wants to know what my deal is!!

Speaking of, my name is Eden 🌻 I'm an Aussie boy who loves musicals and art and stories and will things ✨beautiful✨ and wonderful and fun!!

My favourite musicals are Hamilton, hadestown🌹, Heather's, hairspray, dear even Hansen, and legally blonde💁, with plenty more close behind

Currently obsessed with hunger games and BOSBAS 🪶 (in case you couldn't tell). The other books that have shaped my very being are harry Potter (no surprise there), Percy Jackson (again unsurprising, Leo best character) and Scythe, Ready player one, the darkest minds, the name of the wind, and project hail Mary.

As you can see, big on SciFi/fantasy

Although right now I am stuck into The Fault in our Stars (and preparing to cry!! It is so beautiful and fun and hilarious and I just know something terrible is going to happen!!! 😭😭)

And speaking of SciFi, star wars is another thing that exists and that I am obsessed with!! Mainly clone wars, which is the best of star wars, and Fallen Order, which is the best video game I have ever played.

Anyway, random rant aside, if you'd like to chat with me about any of this, or more, don't hesitate to reach out!! I'll likely be using this page to spill whatever random thoughts, ideas, revelations, feelings, or vibes I feel boiling up inside me, likely as a long-winded rant (like this) or a poem. Previously such artistry was reserved for my notes app, but now I crave the dopamine of interaction and community, so you all get the honour of me sharing with the universe!!

Anywho, that's enough from me. If you actually made it this far, thanks!! Please drop by to say hi, it will make me very happy and I will even say hi back 😊 Otherwise, hope you have a wonderful day(/evening/midnight) and have fun perusing my or someone else's wonderful imagination.

Love ya 🌻

Eden

[catgirlkirigiri]

Today on jjk furries: world’s most normal family, gay people of course, projecting my blue eyes issues onto mr pretty blue eyes, and also Sukuna is here

[starlitmeadows]

OKAY I want to ask one more question, hope you don't mind

HFD, have you done any art yourself? If not – why?

[cappucosmico]

does anyone have that post where the op asks a drunk guy if he could have any superpower what would it be and he very confidently replies "summon creatures"

[fucktherulesletsseetheruins]

Hola, Rotumblr!

My name is Professor Amo (She/her by the way!), I've been the Naranja/Uva Academy's Archeology professor for about two years now (as of 2024) -One of the kids in my class (@trainergraceneedstherapy I KNOW you've been talking about me. Tell Will I said hello!) convinced me to give this whole thing a shot-who knows, with this team nightmare shit going on It may be a good idea, easier to communicate that way if something goes wrong. But if they so much as DARE touch my academy, my classroom, or my students-..well-let's just say I may not battle a lot-but I have the skill to back myself up, and a boot up their ass with THEIR NAME ON IT!

I've lived in Paldea most of my life-..I don't talk to my family much, if you're curious about them-you'll probably find on my record they're champion ranked trainers. Except me, y'know-the family disappointment. But I get along where I am just fine, sneak off to see the ruins occasionally-call it an impromptu field trip!

I guess I should probably make like-a photo of myself or some shit-I'm not good with pictures, It's-a little awkward.

(OOC: Made with https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/1759442 )

(Staff Photo)

Annnnnd-I guess I should show my teams. One from Here in Paldea, one when I went overseas to check out the ruins in Sinnoh- I love all of them dearly, and they are mis dulces bebes <3 (I know some of you may be a bit shocked seeing Spero. I don't know why the little thing chose me, but-I wound up with it in Sinnoh and I'm not letting the little one go without a fight until they choose to leave.)

[ngmn2002]

Hmm... Hmm... Hmmmmmm........

I don't know but... these 2 things give me the same vibes. I mean... I don't know how to put it... it's nice to see some similarities between one's past and present self.

[katherines-howard]

damn well my account is doing pretty okay so i might as well do one of these!!

hi, hello, greetings, pleasant morrow. welcome to my corner of this godforsaken hellsite

about me 🍊

name : sandra

age : big ol’ 17😎

pronouns: she/her

sexuality: bi??? pan??? i dunno man, if you figure out for me then please tell me

also: you might also recognise me from my AO3 comments as sandra_romanoff!

about this blog 🌿

well you see, this started out as a six the musical blog (as per the name) but it’s not just that anymore so i guess i’m now a

M U L T I F A N D O M B L O G

fandoms i make my own posts for

six the musical

ride the cyclone

wednesday

i will reblog

literally anything

wanna talk? 🔮

asks : always open!!! ask tag : a wild ask has been encountered

dm’s : always open!! i’m always down for a chat about literally anything

discord: i’m more than happy to give my discord!! just ask me for it in my dm’s

yeh…sorry my lovelies if you came to this blog for one particular fandom…i guess you’re in for a treat?

[bananarose]

Lhili Rhutree White Mage

Passionate healer and friend to the elementals, Lhili will do anything to see her allies return from battle hale and healthy... even to the potential detriment of herself. Born with a poor constitution and an already ailing body, she was not dealt the best hand. But by the grace of the twelve, and many visits to the conjurer's guild, she has made it this far- and damn it all if she can't keep going.

Lhili wasn't able to help much around her woodland home, the other young miqo'te were able to hunt and she couldn't even pull the string of a bow back. She did what she could, some foraging here and there, mainly repairing clothing for her family and neighbors. But she had a dream, and the passion to see it fulfilled.

Lhili defied all expectations, standing up for herself and convincing her family that she was capable, and left on her own to join the conjurer's guild. She put the work in, determined to become a great healer like those who cared for her as a child.

Thanks for reading! Here's some more info about Lhili! Full Name: Lhili Rhutree Pronouns: She/Her Canon Classes/Jobs: Conjurer, White Mage, Weaver Origin City: Gridania Likes: Helping others, studying conjury, warm drinks Dislikes: Failing, being babied, when nature is disrespected I'm convinced if lalafell wasn't an option that I would have made a cat girl like Lhili when I started the game. My lalafell also started as a conjurer/white mage so in a lot of ways she and Lhili are similar. I'm still sorting out a few things with Lhili's lore, but I really love what I've done for her so far!