#irrelevant to me because i love my hair colour
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seriesxwriting · 10 months ago
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Enemies to lovers with rafe Cameron and y/n
Thank you so much for this request, I love this trope and I have never written it for Rafe so it really excited me!! I hope you enjoy the read.
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Maybe I liked you this whole time.
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paring: Rafe Cameron X y/n
Series: outer banks
Warnings: use of guns, swearing, fighting, kissing, sexual talk.
Summary: you and Rafe despise each other. But one little night at a beach party could change all that. That doesn’t come without, flirting, crying and having a gun put to your head, you know- all the normal stuff. Protective Rafe <3.
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“And that’s how my mum crashed her car” Rebecca cackled shaking her head full of mousey blonde hair. She was in stitches over her own story. Me and Chloe looked at each other as if to say what is going on. “Rebecca your mum is going to have to pay out a lot of money for that car, let alone the medical bill for her broken finger” I raised my eyebrow stopping at my locker to put my books away. “And her broken collarbone don’t forget that” she warned me with a bright smile on her face. I pulled a face of horror at her.
“Y/n my mum is fine, she’d laugh about it too, plus who cares- we’re kooks the moneys there isn’t it” she rolled her eyes at my reaction before ignoring me and unlocking her phone to take pictures of herself. I focused my attention back on my locker twisting the right password in to open the door. As I did, unbelievably, golden coloured sand started poring out all over the floor. It buried my feet beneath as I widely stared at the rest tumbling out. There was nothing more I could do.
Once it has stopped falling I blinked at it to double check I wasn’t dreaming. But laughing pulled me out of my fake delusion. I threw my glare around until it landed on the person laughing. Rafe Cameron. And his gang of ass-lickers. “Did you do this?!” I gritted my teeth together, the hallway was silent seems everyone was watching the scene. “Did you steal my test paper out of mr Larry’s office and replace it with one full of nonsense?” Rafe questioned me with his thick eyebrow raised.
I felt my blood boil inside of me, under my skin. The sand was everywhere. And I’d never get it all out of my locker and shoes. “Because you syphoned all the petrol out my car!” I yelled back unable to control my anger. Which was not the right move seems rafes eyes were still full of glee and his dumb smirk was still stuck to his face. He was enjoying this, he thrived off this. “Yeah I only did that because you filled my school bag with jam when sat behind me in maths” he giggled walking slightly closer to me.
“You know why I did that!” I put my finger up at him warning him to stay back. “Well you know why I don’t like you, so you know why there’s sand in your locker” Rafe bounced his shoulders as another annoying laugh tumbled out of his mouth. “You’re such a dick Rafe!” I bent down and picked up the sand in both my hands and launched it at him but he was long gone. Running away down the hall way pissing himself with laughter.
“I hate him! I hate! Him!” I scrunched my fists together “I think he hates you more” Rebecca shrugged her shoulders looking down the hall for him. “No! He doesn’t, I hate him more- more than England hates their government” I put my index finger up making it very clear how serious I was. “Forget him y/n, look- let’s go grab our lunch and talk about what we’re going to wear to the beach party later” Chloe wrapped her arm around my shoulders.
“Ugh- I don’t know Chloe- I’d rather grab lunch and think about how to get Rafe back” I shook my head as she started dragging me towards the doors to get out. “Why do you hate him so much- I mean everyone knows that you’ve played pranks on each other since before we can remember, but what actually started it?” Rebecca questioned following us out the building. I blinked staring at my feet. “I- don’t remember” I admitted in a shaky voice, I’d never sat back and thought about it before. “But it’s irrelevant why it started, I hate him now”.
And that’s what I did, while Chloe and Rebecca spoke the whole of lunch, I sat and planned. There were two options I’d narrowed it down to. Either I could remove all the tires off his car or I could cover his car in slime and dirt, then throw feathers on the top of it. I voiced the ideas to the girls, Chloe didn’t even seem half interested but they made Rebecca laugh. “Why don’t you just pretend to be into him, get him to think it’s going somewhere and then drop him- leave him flabbergasted my love” she shrugged going back to her phone.
My mind raced with the idea “no one would believe y/n was into Rafe” Chloe shook her head negatively. “Negative Nancy much, look at her she could pull it off, he’d be drooling” she flirtatiously winked at me. “Yeah- his ego would be so bruised- that’s a great idea, why’d you hide it from me for so long” I scoffed throwing my note pad on one of the seats. “Really y/n? Or rise above it?” She raised a threaded eyebrow at me. But I just shook my head. “Nope, I’m not a loser, I will win this stupid game” I answered rubbing my hands together.
“Now we can talk about what we’re wearing to the beach party, I need to look sexy, Rafe will be there” I winked at them.
Later that night-
Chloe picked me up, Rebecca was already in the front so I got into the back again. But before I did Rebecca made me do a spin. I’d chosen a white dress because I’d once seen Rafe post something about ‘tanned brunettes dressed in white’. I’d also done my nails and toes in white too, to match. I’d left my hair down but washed it to get the shine back. Incase I did get in the water, I didn’t want my hair to be ruined. I was actually quite confident about the plan, Rafe was easy so I thought it would be easier than it sounded. “My girl looks hot, come on jump in, I’m so excited”
Chloe got us safely to the beach, there was quite a lot of people there already. The music was blearing and the beer appeared to be flowing. “Can anyone see him?” I whispered as we all got out the car. “I’m staying out of this one, don’t ask for my help” Chloe put her hands up shaking her long brunette hair. “There y/n, by the keg” Rebecca whispered to me. “Here- pose next to the car- look hot” she hissed pushing me backwards while whipping out her phone.
I did as she said, as I positioned myself she put her fingers in her mouth and wolf whistled at me. “Hotter, hotter my girl” she shouted as I moved around. “Fuck me it’s working- rafes looking right at you” Chloe whispered gobsmacked that the plan was somewhat working. “What facial expression is he making?” I asked in a low tone, while bending down for a photo. “It’s sorta- neutral- oh he’s biting his lip” Chloe freaked. I stopped posing and went straight to see the photos with Rebecca. “Play it cool guys, keep it normal” she whispered scrolling through them.
“That was quick thinking babe” I nudged her “all because I watched a YouTube video on how to wolf whistle” she winked at me. Eventually we all walked down the stairs to the beach. “I’ll get the drinks” I wiggled my eyebrows at my girls before walking off backwards. I thought if I completely ignored him, he’d start something with some sarcastic, snarky comment. “Do you think you’re hot posing like that in front of all the guys on the beach?”. I was right. He came up behind me making me turn around. Our bodies only inches apart.
“You tell me, were you turned on?” I whispered tilting my head. He looked my body up at down before laughing. “You couldn’t turn me on even if you tried y/n” “not even a little bit?” I whispered smirking. “You uh, ever heard of hate fucking Rafe?” I leant in to his ear, I had to stand on my tippy toes because of his hight. I caught his eye, he looked shell shocked. “Because you turn me on- just a little bit” I showed him with my fingers. “You’re playing games y/n” rafe’s face shifted, his eyebrows knitted together as if he was confused. “Okay- if you’re not interested that’s fine” I shrugged pulling away and attempting to walk off.
He grabbed me by my waist and pulled me back towards him. “I didn’t say that” he whispered back, staring into my eyes. In that moment I really took Rafe in, he was gorgeous. His blue eyes pierced mine and mesmerised me. “Rafe! Rafe look who’s showed up!” Topper came over slapping him on the back. He didn’t let go of me though, he clung to my waist as he turned round to see. The pogues.
Not just any pogues. The pogues. Kelce was already starting on them, they were at the water now causing hassle. I heard him say “this is a kook party only”. Which wasn’t true because there were a bunch of tourons here and a few other pogues dotted around. “You should probably get out of here- I’ll come find you later” “don’t start shit Rafe” I rolled my eyes pulling away from him. He caught me yet again spinning me around to look at him.
“Will you get out of here, before you see something you don’t like?” He raised an eyebrow. “It’s all gonna be over after this huh?”. He nodded at me rubbing an hand on my waist. “I’m leaving” I sighed putting my hands up and walking away from him for good this time. I heard him go over to the pogues but I didn’t watch. In the next moment I heard gun fire. My body froze. What if it was rafe. I turned round to see what was happening but a large group of people came running my way, knocking me to the ground.
I saw topper fighting John B in the water and I now could see JJ was the one holding the gun. “What the fuck are you doing! Why the fuck would you bring that here!” Rafe yelled storming towards him. The crowd had just gotten past me and I sat up looking for Rebecca and Chloe to make sure they were safe. In the next second I was dragged up by my neck and I felt the gun touching my temple. I was face to face with Rafe now. “How’d you like it if it’s your girl huh?” JJ snarled at him. My chest panted up and down heavily as I saw rafes face drop and go red with anger within a few seconds of each other.
“Huh!” JJ yelled out. “Get the fuck off of her, or I swear to god you won’t recognise yourself when you look in the mirror tomorrow” Rafe spat out in a low tone. “JJ stop it! Y/ns done nothing wrong” kiara called out desperately, in tears. JJ looked down at me, I was trembling and my eyes were watering. “Fuck sake” he put the gun back in his trouser band and let go of me. I turned around and slapped him right across the face. “Coward” I hissed but that clearly wasn’t good enough for Rafe.
He came up behind me and punched JJ across the face. “STOP IT! It’s over!” Pope yelled out. But Rafe punched him again in the face. And again. Before grabbing his face and pulling it up to his. “Put your hands on her again, I fucking dare you- you won’t be able to see the sun ever again” he snarled very close to him, but JJ looked like he was about to pass out. “Rafe” I called out putting my hand on his shoulder. He looked up at me seeing my tear stained face, my messed up frizzy hair. He rose and embraced me, my face falling flat on his chest.
“You’re okay, I’ve got you” he whispered stroking my hair. “He had a fucking- strap to my head Rafe” I winced trying to keep it all in. “Let me take you home” he whispered making me look up at him holding my chin. I nodded in agreement, that’s all I wanted right now. We made our way towards the stairs, he didn’t even say a word to his friends. As if by magic Chloe and Rebecca appear from behind the wall. “Y/n! I’m so glad you’re okay- I- we looked for you but hoped you had gone back to the car” Chloe ran over embracing me.
“I’m okay- I’m glad you two are as well” I said in a very timid voice. “Um- im going home can I catch up with you two later” “with- rafe?” Rebecca wondered looking him up and down. “Yeah it’s fine guys, I’ll speak to you later get home safe” I rubbed Chloe’s back and waved to Rebecca before Rafe put his arm around my waist guiding me to his car. Though he’d been drinking I’m sure he’d sobered up after that. He was careful driving me home, even though one hand was always on my thigh. We didn’t talk nothing needed to be said.
When he pulled into my driveway we stopped and looked at each other. “I’m sorry y/n- I’m so fucking sorry” he whispered dragging a thumb down my cheek. “I’m okay” I shook my head taking his hand in my hand. “I have- something I feel guilty about..” I stuttered feeling embarrassed to bring it up. “What are you talking about?” “Me flirting with you- I was just trying to get you back for the sand thing…” I trailed off feeling stupid. Rafe cracked a small smile and adjusted himself in the seat. “Well that’s a shame” he told me before rolling his head towards me. “Because I think I like you y/n”.
I blinked. I blinked a few times not knowing what words to use back. “Don’t look at me like that- I can hardly believe it myself” he chuckled rubbing a thumb over my thigh. “It’s okay- maybe that’s why I enjoyed pranking you so much” “rafe- you didn’t let me finish” I shook my head grasping his hand again. “I know I like you- me pretending to flirt with you made me want it to be true- they way you protected me- I know I like you- I don’t understand it but… that’s how it is”.
He tilted his head to the side. “You’re not just trying to get me back?” “No rafe- I finally realised why I pretend to hate you so much- it was easier believing that then going through the pain of not having a chance”. Rafe moved his hand to my cheek rubbing it gently. He looked me in the eyes as he lent in before we both closed them. Our lips met in a kiss I had never imagined myself wanting until tonight. Our pace matched, my hand slid into his hair holding him closer to me.
“That’s what I call passion, I dunno about you” he whispered after he pulled away, hardly moving his face though. “I can’t believe it- us- who would have thought?” I whispered laughing slightly. He pressed another kiss on my lips. “I love your laugh- you’re so gorgeous” he whispered taking me in.
“Do you want to come in?” I questioned, not letting go of him. Rafe smiled, giving me a little nod.
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Rafe masterlist-
Outerbanks master list-
All series masterlist-
Masterlist of masterlists-
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hybbart · 5 months ago
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i love your magical girl designs for the seablings, could we get some more info on the choices of colour and stuff? i'm super into character design and love seeing peoples thought on stuff like that ^^
Sure!
A big influence was precure, obviously, as a fan. Many palettes aren't too far off from various precure if you look for them. I am generaly a bit unhappy with the mishmash of 20 different colours used in modern cures, but they did help me be a bit bolder with choices as I'll talk about later. I also tossed out their "avoid green as a main colour" rule like everyone else. I have no idea what sort of wack marketting advice convinced every girls show that girls don't like green and we probably will never know. Irrelevant...
My first step was assigning each mode its own colour. Since they're a duo I was tempted to do either contrasting or complimentary colours, but that went out the window quick. E1 seablings already had very distinctly assigned colours of green and purple, and they were the easiest that I already had ideas for, so I tossed that and just tried to not have them overlap. I still ended up with green, cyan, AND blue as main colours but I adjusted it with the secondary colours.
For the e1 seablings outfits it was primarily colour picked from my actual designs for the codfather and ocean queen, but tweaked to be more saturated, so their main colour theme is green (pink secondary) and purple (blue secondary). It's also when I decided to give them a highlight colour in their hair, as is popular with modern magical girls, since my codfather design already has this. (Also I stole the veil from cure Spicy. Her little veil/napkin hat I immediately fell in love with and thought it would work as a lily pad like hat on Jimmy when designing him, and it fit well with the slight wedding theme I gave them.)
Lizzie's colours are pretty much just various shades of purple and and blue based on her axolotl ocean goddess design. Jimmy's colours are supposed to be like a water lily, of course, and I made the greens less sickly than his codfather design which are meant to be more swampy and go with the browns of the cod. Both the seablings' secondary coloura are references to each other in this btw, as is the case in my codfather design to designate him as the ocean queen's family. Jimmy isn't inherently associated with blue in this au but I did manage to slip it into all three designs since outside of it he is.
The life series designs were veeery easy for Jimmy and much more difficult for Lizzie, but the actual colour choices were both easy once I worked out a design. Lizzie never had an actual skin for her faerie fort self, and her base skin is purple just like the ocean queen, which is also the case for her clothes in e2, so this is where I started taking liberties with her and assigned her other things and desided to throw out the idea of the colour palettes being in neat little boxes. This is the closest to a rainbow cure they get, but I made Lizzie's official main colour cyan and secondary green. Jimmy by contrast is the most monochromatic he gets here, with a main colour of blue and secondary yellow.
Butterfly Lizzie is actually the only time I had multiple palette ideas that I had to make a hard choice between because I liked them all so much, usually I was struggling to find shades I enjoyed being paired since I don't usually work with such saturated palettes. I guess it's fitting, since cyan/teal is minecraft's bets colour that's easy to slap on any build to make it look elegant. Jimmy's palette itself was pretty easy, took a lot of notes from cure sky for him in colour AND design, but it was a matter of where to put what colours. I think I changed the colour of his shorts more times than any other article.
E2 designs were the first I actually designed and thenthe last ones I made palettes for. Their main colours were red and orange... which are quite difficult to work with in such high saturation, and especially with trying to avoid overlaping. I ended up using very unconventional palettes way out of my comfort zone. Brown in general is very unconventional for a magical girl, but there's been a few curea like cure chocolat and cure wing that utilized it that gave the inspiration. It was an easy decision to make her hair and ears based on her calico design after that, though I had trouble deciding exactly where to incorperate the brown into her actual outfit. The purple just came very natural after that. I often use purple instead of actual brown for dark browns so it made sense to me, at least. It was a nice pop against the orange and also contrast the yellow.
E2 Jimmy is the one I am least satisfied with. It was the only one that was not based off his skin the same way Lizzie's weren't. I still look at it and think if theres anything else I could try. By far the most difficult. Red's a very bold colour so it's hard to match without just using different tones of red, and the wrong shade would make the whole rhing look off. I also already knew I wanted yellow/orange in the design because of the sherrif star, but I didn't want it to be his life design with a different primary colour. I decided to try incorperating his blue, and I like it in concept but I still am not sure about the specific shade. After that I thought to add green to make it that classic childish primaries colour, make the design like a space cowboy almost. The star on his hat, the hat in general actually, ended up being the biggest help to decide.
At one point I experimented with a full on rainbow theme but it did not work out. I think it could have with a slightly different design and somekne better at picking colours, but I scrapped it. I also decided to use a lot of darker shades since red is already so bold and bright. Still unhappy with the pants, but white was just a bit too bright and the secondaries were too bold to use. This was the only time I actually messed with the design itself to try and help make colours work, but it didn't work out. I'd say overall I'm happy enough with it but I could have done a lot better.
Also I decided to adjust Lizzie's pink hair slightly with each to match the palettes. I was trying to avoid it, but it's so pink and there's so much it really affected the rest of her design a lot, so I made her e2 hair a more salmon pink and her life design a more bubblegum pink.
As for their wands I just went with an unobtrusive white and pastel rainbow colour scheme. The white matches their outfits and the rainbow doesn't clash too hard with anything. Joel I obbiously just made green and Norman was a bit more awkward but I went with a grey to match the real Norman since a full blue palette made him look like a generic cat faerie and not specifically Norman.
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nottoonedin · 3 months ago
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okay so if you're not asleep/busy Toon, may I request some Isla information? especially about her relationships w/Monica and Asuka but obviously not limited to that (also the drawings you made on the whiteboard of monisla were so cute I love them XD)
anyways i love you I hope you are doing well Toon!!! <3 <3
Heyhey Rock! Hope you're doing well too!! Thank you for giving me a reason to talk about my girl! <3
I do plan to release more info on Isla and Monica's relationship (might make a sideblog for them..🤭), so I'll talk about her relationship with Asuka! (Please let me know if you differ with my thoughts and whatnot :'D)
Firstly, I'm going to just add the things we talked about in dms about them because other people need to know about these things💪🔥🔥:
• The reason Asuka dyed his hair that specific shade of green is because it's the colour of Isla's eyes!💚(And so he wouldn't forget what colour they are.. *sobs*).
Because of this, Isla owns a necklace that has a jewel that's the same colour of Asuka's eyes (brown)!🤎Although she doesn't always wear it, she holds it very dear to her <3
• Asuka sings to himself in French, especially when he's stressed out, because Isla used to sing to him when he was little (I'm still not normal about this information, btw). I imagine Isla still does this, just not as often as she used to.. (Little sample of Isla's voice claim for reference).
• Idk if this was already obvious, but Isla's nationality is French! At least she would be.. if she wasn't in space.. like in the Modern AU? But depending on what you've decided on for Asuka's ethnicity, they could both be mixed..?
• Isla likes to use different variations of Asuka's name as a form of endearment! ('Asu,' 'Ka,' 'Suka,' 'Susu,' etc.) Asuka would probably do the same for Isla, most prominently 'Lala,' because I like to think that when they were younger, Asuka couldn't properly pronounce Isla's name, so he ended up calling her that as a substitute, and the name just sorta stuck lol. He sometimes uses other nicknames, though, like 'Izzy', 'Isa', etc. (Susu and Lala hehehehe-)
• When Isla turned 13, her Guardian deemed her old enough to accompany her to one the current ALNST Season's rounds (for s40 Isla, it would be s39 I think? I say 'I think' is because I'm not entirely sure when in the timeline s40 is goin' on..?). Mostly because her Guardian wanted her to get used to the atmosphere and how ALNST rounds play out.
Don't think too much about that last point, it is totally irrelevant to her story.. :)
Feel free to add any thoughts you have on their relationship, Rock!! Ilysmmmm💖
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notwantedonthemoon · 1 year ago
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I gave Lucy and Ham a design update! Originally I only wanted to do Ham but Lucy barged into the room and no one can make her leave.
Design notes:
• I really was not satisfied with their original colour schemes. I know that Lucy was described as wearing a rose-coloured gown but she’s so purple in my head. • And Ham should be more red. He’s associated with red in the novel (and his brothers with yellow and blue- they’re the primary colour brothers) and that image of Misa Amane in the top left corner was my original reference for him, but he simply doesn’t look right to me unless he looks like a walking Valentine’s Day card. Misa Amane’s picture got to stay because a). I love her and b). I’m gonna talk about her later. • His hair also had to change- I’m probably going to redo Hannah at some point. I was thinking of saving Ham’s original reddish brown colour for Hannah instead, and I don’t want them to look too similar. So now his hair looks like a fox- which is fitting for his character and also very funny because his wife is terrified of foxes. • Don’t ask how the darker ends work without hair dye, we’re going off cartoon logic here. • I am now certain that Lucy’s height exists solely to torment me whenever I want to draw her next to someone else. I was in tears drawing this, wondering why Findley couldn’t have been happy with a six foot tall angel. • Lucy is seven foot five. I have no idea if I drew her tall enough or if I ever will.
The part where Misa Amane is relevant
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• Ham’s character felt like he was being set up for a much more important role than he actually got, and I was waiting for a twist or a character arc or something, but it never happened. This guy is determined to stay irrelevant forever. I saw a source somewhere describe Ham as less of a character and more of an excuse to introduce Lucy. It cracked me up so I had to include it in here. • Just to be clear: I do like Ham as is. He’s an entertaining and also very heartfelt character- one of his defining traits is just, ‘Loves Things A Lot’ (kinda reminds me of Pat of Silver Bush- everyone go read Pat of Silver Bush that book is fantastic). • But also: he could have been better. His character got 10 times more likeable to me when I realized that he kind of resembles Misa Amane from Death Note, so by that logic he’d be a better character if you just make him more like Misa Amane from Death Note. • Also: I only ever watched the Death Note musical and I know next to nothing about the anime. But I heard that Misa is pretty annoying in the anime? Shame. • The parallels are already there. Both characters have complicated relationships with death- Ham’s first action in the book is being forced to kill a lamb, Misa’s entire family got murdered- and then cheating death somehow; Ham spent his childhood nearly dying of like, plague or whatever, and a death god sacrificed his life to extend Misa’s time on Earth. They’re both characterized as being incredibly loving, with Ham defined by his “love of life so great that he could not bear to kill” and Misa being defined by her love for her family that drove her to pledge her loyalty and give away half her life to their unknowing avenger.
• If I were writing Ham I’d establish him as a character who is deeply loyal- to his family and to his values. He thought that that loyalty had to extend to his father be default- they’re family, despite their very very tense relationship. The sacrifice at the start of book one made him do an immediate 180 on that, and it was why he was so willing to throw his oar in completely with Lucy. • That 180 turn was motivated by an unbelievable amount of pent up rage and spite. In terms of general ideals I’d say Ham is pretty traditional and goes along with whatever’s popular because it causes less problems for him- the only principles he sticks firmly to are his scientific ones. He’s not like Lucy, who knows what she believes in and fights for it- him opposing Doctor Noyes is an emotional, reactionary decision, not based off of any deeper principles (other than the no-killing one) or self-reflection about his existing worldviews. • A lot of his development will be directly tied to Lucy, since she’s the more significant character out of the two. And being with Lucy would make him much more willing to make impulsive decisions; which actually isn’t very far from canon, Ham is pretty impulsive. When I first got to the two-day-engagement part of the book I was convinced that a love potion had to be involved somewhere, because I couldn’t wrap my head around the designated ‘logical scientist character’ making such a reckless decision. But then I got further into the book and Ham… runs into a burning building. Keeps on fumbling conversations by blurting out his opinion and immediately regretting it. So… he’s kind of just like that. That lines up. • For a scientist character he’s very emotional- which I like a lot! It’s a nice change of pace. Being a scientist doesn’t automatically make you more rational and reasonable than anyone else. Sometimes you can be a really good scientist and still have the emotional intelligence of a sea sponge. Ham strikes me as someone who doesn’t really ‘get’ emotions because he can’t logic his way through them like with most of the stuff he studies, so he ignores them until they explode ‘completely out of nowhere’. My conclusion here is that someone should hand him a book on mindfulness. • (The real question is why Lucy was down for the two-day-engagement; it’s not to survive the flood. She and Ham were engaged before Yaweh came up with the flood plan.)
• All this is setting Ham up as Lucy’s eventual closest ally and the most fiercely loyal friend she could ever ask for. He thinks the world of her and would do just about anything for her… but he wouldn’t kill for her. That’s a line he crossed once and wouldn’t ever again.
• And Lucy loves him. Of course she does. But sometimes she wonders if her friend’s loyalty is anything like her brother’s blind devotion to Yaweh. She doesn’t like that thought.
• In the novel their relationship is largely just. Very lacklustre, with no development or indication that they really care about each other. But since they’re such a blank slate I can do whatever I want with them, and what I want is Lucy the revolutionary and her aggressively supportive science bestie. • I like to think that Ham and Lucy’s relationship would be best described as a queerplatonic relationship- though they wouldn’t have the vocabulary to describe that exactly. I know that they’re married but… they really don’t have any romantic chemistry. I’m sorry to anyone who thinks that they make a good couple (if you exist. At all) but I simply do not see it.
• (If someone does have an interpretation of their relationship that is romantic I would absolutely love to see it. If someone has anything to say at all about this book I would love to see it.)
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princessbrunette · 1 year ago
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on another note i just wanted to say i LOVE how u write its so good and moreso as a black girl so many writers just unintentionally make the reader white through little things like physical descriptions and actions (so many times im like “we would not do/say that”) but with you its so effortless and i really appreciate it! -🐰
this makes me so happy !!! inclusivity is really important to me. i’m white (passing) but my family aren’t so i definitely have witnessed some first hand of poc being unintentionally left out or marginalised because they’re treated like an afterthought, or that they could never be the centre of a project (in this case the main character / y/n) i think it’s super off putting to read a fic and suddenly be taken out of it by the description of skin/eye colour or hair texture bc why? its pretty much irrelevant to mention (unless ofc you’re writing about an OC or i suppose you specifically mention that you’re writing a self insert or something) but yeah. sorry i went off onto a ramble but im happy you feel represented here 💗💗💗💗💗💗
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lebedame-wegelagerin · 9 months ago
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What are your ultimate historical costuming goals? If money was no object, what kind of ensemble would you put together (including unlimited accessories and props)?
Oof, sorry for inviting you to send Asks and then waiting… looks at Calender …TWO MONTHS to answer, woopsie.
In my Defense, that is actually a really difficult Question. I think I wouldn't rely on specific Materials as much as to go for specific Modes of Processing. One Thing I desperately desire, which seems impossible to get (for affordable Prices), is white, finely, but densely woven Linen in perfect Width for Shirts and Shifts, as it was produced historically. That would be a great Base for any Ensemble. Then I'd really like a Pair of Stays, that is professionally fitted to my Body. I don't necessarily need anyone else to sew them up, but getting the Pattern just right and Help to make it perfectly would be really helpful with Things that depend so much on being well-fitting. I think I'd like those in a beautiful Reproduction Cotton Print in a light Colour. This I'd want topped with a richly handembroidered Linen Petticoat. 18th Century Embroidery is just so pretty and I know I wouldn't have the Patience to do that Embroidery myself and when Budget's irrelevant might as well pay someone to do the Embroidery instead of having it Machine-made. Now it gets complicated again, because what to wear on the upper Body with this? Jacket and Waistcoat? Riding Habit (with or without Waistcoat)? Some Gown? All of those are marvelous and would be very tempting, but given my previous Experiences Jackets and Riding Habits would be the most realistic for myself to just make. So I think for the absolute Goal I'd go for a French/Sackback Gown, loaded with so much Trims and Bows and Ruffles and whatnot. Given how much Effort and Fitting and Fabric and Notions this requires it still likely will be a long Time before I attempt anything like that myself, so it works best for an unrealistic Wish. Can't really decide if I'd prefer a Stomacher fitting the Petticoats Embroidery or being as excessively ornamented as the Gown. Of course with that I'd also need some Understructure in the Form of either a Pannier or Pocket Hoops - which one I can't say, due to having Experience with neither so far, would have to try it out. In any Case wide enough to look fancy and get that Silhouette, but not those ridiculous historical Coronation- or Wedding-Level Widths, I still want to be able to fit through regular Doors without having to rotate. I'm not sure what Kind of Hairstyle would go best with it, but given how I'm feeling entirely unqualified for any of those fancy Styles and my Hair being a bit difficult, I'd love to have that somehow realized for me. Including a perfectly fitting (in Style as in Size) Hat, because I love Hats. Maybe something round, that's nicely decorated. For Accessoires I'd definitely need a cute Fan, as I get warm too easily and what Luxury would it be to have an Outfit-specific Fan? Then I'd also want a Reproduction of the Kind of Glasses my everyday Glasses are based on stylistically. They'd be absolutely anachronistic for the Ensemble, given they seem to have come up past 1810 from what I've seen so far, but I like the Style too much and Glasses on Women in the 18th Century are generally a very rare Sight, I can't recall a single Example right now.
That's everything I can think of right now and it might have been a bit vague, but it honestly is a difficult Question, but interesting to ponder!
Thanks for the Ask and sorry again for letting you wait!
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phoenixcatch7 · 2 years ago
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Just did my first castle run! Had a lot of fun with ascend, it made exploring SO much easier. It was really fun knowing where all the major points were, ie the studies, gatehouses, library, but not remembering the intricacies of the connecting bits.
That and they were full of new monsters, what with the guardians having been thoroughly decimated. It made it a lot, lot easier to get around! The castle is much less scary this time! I do wonder what that means, though, because totk has very much shown itself to be willing to up the fear factor, and given the lacklustre reception of the botw ganon fight and ganons (presumably) human form I thought they'd be driving it home hard.
The zelda... thing, might be phantom, led me on a merry chase around the castle tossing monsters at me, but nothing worrying. A group of fire lizalfos, whatever shall I do, I say, getting out a frost spear and wiping them all out in a single tap. Didn't like that it got in zeldas bedroom but whatever (it's honestly a lovely room).
It was funny because the first time I was determined to ignore it. 'Ugh can't be bothered to deal with whatever's going on there I'll come back another time' I said, immediately before dropping into the gatehouse and getting jumpscared XD.
In zeldas study I climbed in through the window, turned around and saw her floating along above maybe hebra? Highlighted by lightning, framed by the broken shutter through which her old self stared a century and a lifetime ago... I just stood watching.
Irrelevant but I finally got onto farosh's back today too! I hadn't realised we could now ride the other dragons :D!! Climbed up to her head to compare eyes and I think the transformation might have scrambled zeldas brain just a bit because farosh looked calm and watchful, eyes scanning the lands below, half lidded, unbothered. Meanwhile the light dragon looks like that fish eyed cat that doesn't blink in sync :/. Absolutely GINORMOUS eyes compared to farosh.
Anyway then the zelda identity fraud thing went up to the throne room and I was like nah girl you can't trick me I'm not stepping foot in there until I'm good and ready. So I walked right up to the entrance, made direct eye contact with it, and ascended through the ceiling. Went right up to the top! The korok was still there lmao, every time I see it I think of the meme. There was a whole bunch of chests! Chests everywhere! And the whole actual entire dusk bow just lying there in a whole in the spire, fair enough??? Went back down and sort of scurried around the edges trying not to trigger anything while I set things on fire until the bird opened up and I finally got the champions tunic(+)! And it's STILL not dyable!! Let me make it green!! Forest rep!!! Traditional hero colours!! Come on!!
Went to purah like 'have I done the zelda quest now plz' and she laughed in my face and complimented my hair.
Rating: 7/10 the changes and new mobs made it fun and interesting and evil zelda added a bit of flair but the sky was boringly stormy and not a perpetual blood moon and the lack of guardians made me feel practically safe. Bokoblins do not make up for the lack of lynels in the gatehouses!! At least give me a challenge! Points docked because I didn't fear for my life a single time.
But the nagging feeling that I'm going to get flattened into paste in some novel way the second I step in the throne room keeps me from ranking it lower.
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stars-havefallen · 2 years ago
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𝕀𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕕𝕦𝕔𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕄𝕖.
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Salut! Je m’appelle Sofie!!! You can spell it ‘Sophie’ too!! I also go by Lou, because of my middle name. So you can call me Lou too<3 or even..geez this intro was just supposed to be my name, Honestly I don’t care what you call me as long as it’s none of the following:
~Sofia
~Sophia
~Fia
~soapy
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Great!! Now that’s out of the way…
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a little bit about myself<3
I’m sixteen, Ravenclaw, Aphrodite cabin, Erudite, Aries, Ace, Female, my favorite color is mist grey, my favorite song is “blue hair” by TV girl, my favorite Movie is “the song of the sea”, my favorite fruit is mango, and I love peppermint. Also I’m a huge fan of seventies fashion and music and such so that might show up from time to time though that’s mostly a Pinterest thing<3
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Now for some hobbies I have:
~Photography
~Painting (strictly water colour)
~Committing various quotes, poems, and philosophies to memory, many of which are often useless.
~Writing
~Reading (my librarian says she only likes me because I literally “inhale books then come back for more” I took this as a compliment…)
~I’m fairly good at understanding human anatomy so I spend my free time studying it!! (I want to be a mortician)
-ceramics
-poetry
-gardening(who knew I had a green thumb??)
-baking(only when I’m stressed though)
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Fandoms!!!
*six of crows definitely one of my favourites
*twilight (team jacob pre-wolf… now in love with jasper)
*scott pilgrim
*DC
*The Kinks
*Fleetwood Mac
*some Harry Potter but I’m still learning about that…
*PERCY JACKSON!!!
*myth-o-mania
*asoue
*Crave( I mean I know a lot about it cause I did read it but like…I’m not a huge fan tbh)
*musical theatre (I’m a theatre kid..SHOCKER. But yeah)
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Some Links:
(I’ll add these later)
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DNI:
~If I ask you not to interact. Simple.
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My tags are below<3 and most of my dividers come from @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more
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*ALSO IMPORTANT* I’m looking for mutuals..I made this blog awhile ago and I desperately want friends, I promise I’m nice<3, don’t be afraid to ask if you’d like to be mutuals!!
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I’m a bit of a neat freak…sorry not sorry. My blog is organized because today I discovered how tags work!!!
‘✰.。.✵°✵’ more broad categories i.e; stars(people adore/ moots), reblogs (uncategorised/tag games/polls) , rants (shitpost? I think you call them? Basically irrelevant stuff)
’꧁•⊹٭’ specific character/people stuff i.e James potter, Remus lupin, regulus black, Tobias Eaton, etc.
‘ミ★’ related to a specific fandom
★¸.•☆•.¸★ 🄵🄸🄲🅁🄴🄲🅂 ★⡀.•☆•.★ is its own thing. Anything I recommend for you to read will be here.
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Edit to add it was organised but that fell to the wayside I’m more of a neat freak irl but I’ll get around to adding the tags soon not that anyone cares 💀
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peppermintfreak · 2 years ago
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More useless character trivia! A new post since I love writing these on mobile and the original has become unbearable to edit.
Jane shares Oswald's voice. As the story goes on, she eventually becomes the only thing that's left of him.
She is also the only android that is colour blind.
A friend asked me one time if Tasha is trans of gender. She's not, and the sole reason she's sometimes drawn with facial hair is because she just has fuck ton levels of testosterone to spare.
Baker is wearing a contact lense in his left eye.
Oswald was the type of guy to make his own type of cancer and then cure it himself.
The rulers who oversee the past are the smallest in number as their realm has a lengthy history of long-reigning leaders.
Augustus is a caricature of Augustus Caesar written a very long time ago by some bored rich kid.
The reason Hayes took over a new form was due to his face looking all too mighty familiar in the mirror.
Michael is far-sighted. He doesn't do anything about it though.
Annya sleeps with her eyes open.
Arsen encapsulates the person of my world who proudly tells he's 2.1% Indigenous whenever it's irrelevant.
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kassymalone · 2 years ago
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A little rant about something on my mind.
So I've found some new YouTubers to watch lately, and part of their back catalogue is reacting to early 2000s makeover programmes, the kind of which my mother was obsessed with while I was growing up.
Let me tell you, watching them as an adult is so eye opening. They were so toxic and misogynistic, not even borderline bullying the women into throwing away all their bright and different clothes and buying things they hated because they were the current fashion. I don't know what TV in the early 2000s problem was with actually doing nice things for their participants, but watching these women grimace and pretend they loved being forced into clothes they hated and having all their hair cut off when they expressly said they didn't want that was really something.
The worst part, though, was that I recognise a lot of their talking points *to this day*: every time I go clothes shopping (which I pathologically hate, and I'm starting to connect the dots), my mind parrots the same toxic shit back at me that I heard on the programme. Bullshit about stripes and cuts and colours and 'doing nothing for me' and 'you can't wear that because your boobs are too big' and other 'fashion tips' that may have meant something twenty years ago but are irrelevant now.
I've been unpacking a lot of shit about myself for the last few years, after moving from the middle of the countryside to a large city and seeing more types of people. Mostly it happens a bit at a time, like my realisation that my unhealthy relationship with food is due to being my mother's diet buddy since I was seven years old (I wasn't even big as a child, I was a perfectly normal weight. Let me tell you, nothing fucks up your concept of food like being on a different fad diet every month), but sometimes they're absolute lightbulb moments, like seeing this show again after so long.
More than once I've found myself actively keeping my opinion to myself regarding what someone is wearing, particularly the younger girls I work with. I'm a very live-and-let-live person and I honestly don't care what people wear, so when I catch these judgemental thoughts (you're too big to wear a crop top, those look like pyjamas, that pattern makes you look huge) I wonder where the hell they came from.
I've always been in the 'be careful what your kids watch' camp, but seeing it right in front of my eyes is like being slapped with a fish. I can't help but wonder what other toxic bullshit I've internalised from those years and what my next lightbulb moments going to be.
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yowlthinks · 1 year ago
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Just to add something: young people (all young people) need to see diversity in films, and need ti see it normalised. The story can be about love persevering despite societal expectations (which are, btw, mostly expectations and limits of the past for many societies), but it is even better if it is not even the point of the story. It should be just a couple in a romcom, just a couple in a drama, just a couple in a thriller, and who exactly constituted that couple is really irrelevant, the way it is currently irrelevant what hair colour the girl in a romcom currently has.
Because tell you what, as a kid and later as a teen I saw all the following relationships as completely normal:
-Klara Zetkin and Rosa Luzembourg - yep, these two women who we have to thank for the Inernational women's day, I was sure they were besties, spent their life together abd was absolutely shocked abd disappointed when it turned out they were married to some random dudes.
- 8 Women - this masterpiece of French cinema has both queer abd straight women there, and it was totally normal
- Brokeback Mountain - watching at 14 with my parents, first my dad fled, then my mum went to bed, so I was left there, watching it on the computer in the darkness, bawling my eyes out.
And before you assume these films were my sexual awakening, no, not really. I think I have always found men and women equally attractive, just never really considered women as an option, until around my late 20ies. It took me till my mid-thirties to really sort of figure out what I probably am. And that's ok, but the fact that it never seemed weird to me is what I want other young people to have too.
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andromedasummer · 2 years ago
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thank god for my local beauty brand having nice quality cheap single shadows because i was not about to buy a whole $50 colourpop or morphe pallete for one light/dusty green shade
#the 2 morphe ones that have the shade i like were the 30 pan ones and like... im not about to drop $40-50 because they have one/a couple#green shades i like#esp when the other shades were things i already have covered (i have the colourpop basics 30 pan and i got it for like. $20 on sale an#it covers p much most my looks cos of its oranges/browns/golds/whites/silvers#very versatile and very much my colour#normally colourpop dont let me down but rn theyre selling their high school musical collab (very much not my vibe or colours)#and their new hair tint shampoo conditioners which are gorg and so pigmented BUT#irrelevant to me because i love my hair colour#also the stuff on sale is their disney stuff because they have a ton of collabs with disney#they have these awesome like $15 palletes with 9 pans focused around a specific colour#and i wanted to get their red one and their green one (red for my halloween vampire look and green bcos my new party dress)#nope. sold out.#so the only stuff availble was their star wars stuff (i loved the child pallete but. not enough to buy) and their disney princess stuff#and i am a 23 year old woman with no nostalgia for disney. only Disney product i jave was one they sent to me by mistake#and i never complained cos the thing i bought was a $15 9 pan and the one i got while disney princess themed#was 12 pans and $30#oh and there were no other red or green themed pallettes. i wish i was joking#the only one was for their nba collab where they partnered with the teams and made a little set for each team#and i do not basketball#honestly their collabs have kinda sucked recently#i still havent got their best one (sailor moon which is $150#because its a fuckton of makeup!!! that i want to get along with those sailor moon brushes)#and the lizzie macguire one tempts me a LOT....#malibu barbie also a good one was on sale BUT its colours are not at all for me. can still respect a good makeup set tho.#and oh my god their y2k set. wheres it gone. bring it back. i do not CARE about the disney princess super shock shadows. stop the Disney#partner with a horror movie now THAT would fuck#oh and bring back the witches collab for halloween that fucked severely#anyway all this to say i angry at makeup
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reidingdays · 4 years ago
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the first 3 minutes of zugzwang: an ESSAY nobody asked for and i mean an essay the english student really jumped out on this one lads
this scene is arguably the best acting i’ve seen matthew gray gubler ever do and it’s JUST HIM STANDING IN A PARK
so we start in a park, there’s soft music and to me it sounds academic and whimsical, optimistic like you’ve got all the world’s puzzles to explore and endless time to do it in. it’s something straight out of a beautiful mind. it’s autumn, warm colours abound and the cosy vibes continue as spencer’s in good spirits and a warm jacket
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he looks happy!!! peaceful!! content!!! treasure that with me, will you
the music reaches a higher key as he dials maeve’s number and he’s making little chhhh chhh chuu noises, singing his own song under his breath in his own little world, the picture of ease, as he calls and immediately hangs up to let her know it’s only him, not her stalker. his movements are light and fluid and given his aversion to technology and germs he doesn’t falter once as he dials on this very public phone box
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he sighs because he’s done this a thousand times over but it’s not a sad sigh. it seems kind of like acceptance, as if he’s made peace with the situation and he’s in it for the long haul. it's simply routine. he instinctively - subconsciously?? - reaches for his satchel like a safety blanket, like a reminding reassurance that this is working, she’s safe, and he looks EXCITED while awaiting her call back
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he even walks a few steps away, shoves his hands in his pockets, turns away from the phone box, because he knows she’ll call back. there’s no anxiety there, no pressure to stare at the thing until it rings. he trusts her. as he looks around the park he continues the chhh chh chhhh noises, admiring the scene passively among nose scrunches because this is just another liminal space, another random phone box, on his journey to be with maeve
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when the phone rings, boy damn near gives himself WHIPLASH look at that hair flip!!!! majestic!!! he couldn’t care LESS about the beautiful park he wants to talk to maeve!!
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after he practically dives on top of the phone box, he answers with a jaunty lil “hellooOOOoOO!!” and just look at the mischief on that there face. his eyes are squinted because he’s ready to tease and debate obscure literary theories. there’s the hint of a smirk. he’s playful, ready and willing to hang on her every word, and then the happy whimsical walk in the park music CUTS OUT
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CUTS RIGHT OUT
in literally 0.03 seconds his face goes from mischevious lil puppy!!!!!!! to oh shit this isn’t right this isn’t maeve. a collect call from adam worth means danger. his head snaps up, there’s tension in his neck how the hell and his eyebrows are pulled down, eyes wider and can’t focus on anything, BOTH hands clutching the phone and pressing it so close to his face as if doing that could help him concentrate
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the operator tells him to pay 2 dollars to hear the call and he freezes then JERKS his body back from the abyss his mind is so clearly spiraling down, like he has to remind his limbs to work. he smacks his arm against the phone box but doesn’t even register it. my bet is he whacked his funny bone and we all know that hurts like the DICKENS and there's still zero reaction. his pain is irrelevant. his breathing is loud and ragged, offbeat and unnerving against the Dramatic Violins, he scrabbles through his satchel with absolutely no regard for it at all because it’s in the WAY, hair falls in his face, then he just RIPS the bag off his person like it’s rubbish
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tips out its contents like a man possessed. we’re talking books on books on books. and spencer loves books.
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it’s a desperate bid to find enough change to pay for the call. like this guy is a germaphobe. he’s on his KNEES in a public park on a well trodden footpath with a manky phone still glued to his ear, all his possessions are now covered in god knows what, his beloved satchel is cast aside like litter, he’s not even looking at where is hand is in germ city because he’s staring the phone box out in case, knowing his luck, it sets on fire
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all his movements are frantic and jagged and, yes, spencer isn’t known for being a swan but he’s also not a jerky marionette. he staggers upright and shoves his change into the phone box, impatiently pushes his hair out of his face to no avail and he’s blinking like five times more than before
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the intonation of “hello i’m still here” OH GOD it is spoken completely monotone which is beyond out of character, going to show just how!!! unnerved!!!! he is!!!! happy joyful jaunty hellooOOoOs are long forgotten. he doesn’t have time for emotion which again is SO UNSETTLING THIS IS SPENCER REID KING OF EMOTION. the next scene with hotch is when he allows emotion to seep back into his voice, but right now, alone and responsible, he has to block it out. each word is rushed together to get them out faster the SECOND the call connects and when it does, we hear zugzwang. he steadies himself with another breath and not to be as Dramatic as the violins but his eyes go hard?? because he knows the meaning of that word and infers bad things are about to happen because bad things just follow him around.
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he looks up because how the hell can this be happening WE WERE SO CAREFUL. he almost definitely thought through every potential threat and every precaution made wasn’t enough. his entire face screams desperation, denial, guilt, what the fuck. it’s like he gives himself one split second of panic, pain, doubt and fear but then he shuts it out. you can see his brain kick back in when he asks “sorry can you please repeat that?” in order to engage with whoever this is because maybe that will help? because being polite and soft spoken is his strength AND ALWAYS WILL BE (i digress). but the reply is another zugzwang. farewell happy peaceful and content spencer you lasted literally 21 seconds
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and then he pulls THIS face out of his arsenal and you just know spencer isn’t going to get a happy ending because he never does and what better way to destroy the character development of both spencer and maeve, the woman that was created simply to be murdered and SCENE
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redspiderling · 3 years ago
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MCU Breakdown: Black Widow, Part 1
I can’t believe this is happening 😭
First of all, congratulations to all of you who’ve been here all these years. We got it. We begged for years, and it’s finally here.
For once I wasn't dreading revisiting this film to write down what I got from it. I felt more like I might not do it justice. This film is so special to me, but here it is, the MCU Breakdown of Black Widow, part 1 (of who knows how many).
I remember back when I started running this blog and talking about a hypothetical Black Widow movie that had never been announced, always "yeah, we would be happy to do it, maybe, someday in the future", and arguing that it would be important for women and girls, no matter its content. I'm so glad we got it like this. So, so glad.
The rest under the cut.
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Let's start with some technical details. The film has a lot of setups and callbacks, nothing is done in chance. For example, I love how the light, and the sounds we hear when we first, and last, see Natasha in the film, are the same. We greet her in bright -birds cheeping- morning light, while she's riding her bike home, to her family
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and we leave her in bright -birds cheeping- morning light, while she's riding her bike home, to her family (I'm using the term family very liberally here in reference to the Avengers for the sake of the movie, bear with me, you know how I feel about those dudes).
It's signifying new beginnings, each time, not endings. Notice how, what we see is natural light, which makes this scene pop out, and look more real because the light is coming from the sun, and isn’t artificially made on VFX software. You will notice the stark differences in colours and lighting when the emotions and the atmosphere change in this film, because there is a visual language being employed here, the director has a story to say, and she uses all the tools she has to tell it. The light is exactly the same in those 2 scenes, because Cate wants us to make that connection, even if we make it unconsciously.
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Natasha is placed in such a positive way, both at the start and the end of the film. There's this discussion about how "real" their little family was, but it was the characters that muddled up that image. The reality of their lives in Ohio is presented in a happy way, that had deep rivers under the surface, for sure. This wasn't accidental, for a lot of reasons.
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First of all, if you take it the literal way, they were spies, and had to present themselves as normal. If you take it the allegorical way, any girl could fall victim to trafficking, and if you take it the character way, both Scarlett and Cate wanted to showcase that Natasha is human. They also wanted to give her something that wasn't always dripping with pain and sadness. They were both parts of her life, yes, but there was also joy, and light, and once upon a time she had been a kid, playing with her sister.
Also, and this has been mentioned before but it bears repeating: I love the actress they chose for young Natasha, and I love how they presented her character. She's allowed to be a young teenage girl. She's not sexualised. She's at that gangly stage between childhood and adulthood, and there's nothing sexual about it, no provocative clothing, no excessive makeup. She's a kid.
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Plus, I know Cate said the actress already had her hair dyed blue and they just decided to let her have it, but I think it works well for Natasha's character. That small act of defiance, even that early on, against the system that wanted to break her. Also, the film gives us such great character moments, because they let the camera roll and don't rush through scenes, look at Natasha looking at Melina comforting Yelena. We can see the pain, the fear, where she knows that this isn't going to last, and wonders about what will become of them once their lives begin to unravel.
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We also get to see the joy on her face, the wonder of discovering the world, how often do you get to see Marvel characters do this, just live in the moment?
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Bioluminescence: the production and emission of light by a living organism. Or how Natasha is a bright light, that shines from within. Not my words, Cate Shortland's words. I felt it when I was watching this scene, but it was lovely to have it verified in one of her interviews. I wish I could meet her, and tell her that everything she wanted to put on screen came through, incandescent and crystal clear. Fireflies are a symbol for Natasha, as a bright light that shines from within, and never dies.
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Small details that I love, the magnet on the fridge: Don't forget, above a picture of Natasha. LIKE WE EVER COULD, CATE.
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We have another setup here, where the family gathers up to have dinner together. Even the sitting arrangement is the same as later on in the film.
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Notice also how both young, and adult version of Natasha, communicate so well with Melina, just with their eyes. It doesn't necessary show a deep history between them, but it does show a bone deep level of understanding. Not just of their current circumstance, but of their future, and of what it will do to them. Melina knows what's coming and she's says it "I'm sorry", but they're both resigned to their fate, Melina because she doesn't see a way out, and Natasha because, well, here she's a kid, and therefore is powerless.
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The dynamics between Yelena and Alexei is so different. Yelena is young and doesn't understand, so they're speaking about completely different things. "I don't have my shoes" is what she says, and it's heartbreaking in its innocence, as Alexei is loading his gun and reading himself for battle. We can still see that he's not indifferent to her, telling her she can have "fruit loops in the car". He's not a monster, he just doesn't have a choice (or at least, he thinks he doesn't).
Also, notice how the camera angles are employed here: Natasha and Melina look each other eye to eye, Yelena looks up to Alexei, Alexei looks down on her, there is an imbalance of power and understanding in the second set of images, and the camera tells us that.
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Melina doesn't let Natasha take the photo album. For one thing, it's certain that Natasha wouldn't be able to keep it. For another, Melina wanted the memories, and probably didn't want anyone else to realise/think that they cared about their little family unit.
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There's just a lot of thought that's been put in the details of the script, to show us their bond, their attempts to hide it, to show the characters' personality in everything around them (notice the plants that are ever present in Melina's home, in Ohio and later in Saint Petersburg). She might seem cold, she has been through a lot, but she cares. And that care has brought her pain. And we have to see that pain, because we get the quiet moments like this one, where she stands alone in an empty home knowing that part of her life is over, never to return.
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The mission, is the last thing Melina asks about. The last thing Alexei mentions, the last thing either of them cares about. First, she refused to accept that they had completed the mission and were now hunted, then she accepted it and they loaded their family in the car, and then she asked about the leaked files.
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Also, notice how that shot is framed. Both images silhouetted by the light because it’s the moment and the prop smack down in the middle of the frame that’s important, now what they’re going through, emotionally, they’re not themselves in that moment, they’re nameless, tools of the trade, expendable in front of that tiny floppy disk.
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Yelena is singing while the rest are plunging in despair, but still humour her and play her song.
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I found this shot a bit... Jarring. I get it that for American audiences this would show that they're actually leaving "home" behind, but for the rest of us... Eeeh, I'll give it a pass because it is an American production and this is just something to be expected. I mean, Yelena's song was American Pie. We get it, you still love America, just because you're making a film about Russian spies doesn't mean you're a commie Marvel, it's ok.
But in any case, the setup for the action scene here was excellent. Happy, familiar music playing, car is on the main road, car goes off the main road familiar music gets toned down and eventually completely lost in the darkness.
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Yelena knows what to do, we see it, so that we know that this 6 year old girl who holds her stuffed animal and walks barefoot has practiced for this moment.
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By the way, Natasha did take another item with her along with the photobooth pictures (it also looks like a photo album with Disney princesses on it), it didn't survive the trip. We are informed of this for a very specific reason: Melina didn’t ask Natasha not to take the photo album out of malice, or just because she wanted to keep it for herself. She knew it wouldn’t survive the trip in Natasha’s hands. We also get a close shot of the image strip (and we get it again, during the credits), because it will be important, later on.
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Bet y'all also forgot you were watching a superhero movie until this happened? That wasn't accidental, they wanted us to see them as normal people, this is the moment when that ends.
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Natasha saved her family, even though she was a terrified kid.
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I know that they did the huge titles thing to connect this film to Civil War but... Listen, Civil War needed the huge titles because that script and the way that movie was directed was a complete disaster. We needed to know where the characters were each time with huge ass title because there was NO OTHER WAY TO TELL. Between complete lack of a timeline, and the fact that you couldn't even tell what time of the day it was due to the horrible lighting, you definitely couldn't tell what the location was because it was irrelevant to the plot like, 90% of the time. Not to mention the title cards in Civil War were usually followed by dimly lit grey corridors so, yeah, give us a title so we know at least where they are, generally.
This film. Didn't Need That. For the most part anyway, there are 2 locations where the titles worked. First one was Ohio, the other I'll reveal later.
But here. Guys, they're Russian spies escaping from the US on a small plane... Where else would they go if not to Cuba?!?! This is the Black Widow movie paying for the sins of Civil War, in a small way in this instance.
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Yelena tells Melina that pain only makes you stronger, Natasha cries, and they setup my heartbreak for later.
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Natasha protecting Yelena, terrified, and staring men down the barrel of her gun anyway. Such a badass and heartbreaking callback.
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Notice how this scene makes us look at how men view this. There's an allegory here as well, but I'll address what's actually happening in the film:
Dreykov notices Natasha's natural instinct to protect herself and her sister, and all he sees is something he can use. A tool for violence, instead of sex, in this case. But the implication is there. Not a person, or a terrified girl, just an object to be used by men.
So glad that piece of shit got blown up and never mentioned again. Any man looking for exposition on Dreykov to feel the "loss" when the villain is gone: Fuck you. Go get some therapy.
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Moving on from that piece of shit, difference between Melina and Alexei: Melina apologised. Alexei lied, but he also tried to give them hope. We can see the devastation, because the soldiers never thought of them as girls like he did, and didn't blink before drugging them and taking them away.
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Yet another setup, of Natasha and Yelena, drugged and powerless as they are taken away. Because it wasn't enough that they were kids, they took away all their choices, and rendered them unconscious.
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What can I possibly say about this credits scene.
It's very real, probably the realest minutes in the entire MCU, and it's merciless. They don't try to sugar-coat what's happening, and there are no jokes to diffuse the drama. These are girls being trafficked from all over the world. I don't know about you but I felt the switch from true parallel to real life traffic victims like this shot that looks like footage from Interpol
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to Red Room victims as being a clear shift, and I was actually grateful for it. Because here I could put my back against the fact that the red room wasn't real, otherwise I would have broken down before the credit sequence even ended.
It was a stroke of genius to create an introduction to this entire world like that. We rarely see credit sequences anymore and it's a shame, because when they're well done they tell stories in and of themselves, and this is one of the best I've seen.
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Even the villain is set up here. He's pointing at girls and saying "that one, and her", like he's picking pigs for slaughter. How much more setup than that do you need, to want to murder that man dead? Not any more, that was enough.
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Nobody speak to me I’m crying.
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Subtle, but there. Trafficking (and traffickers) exists because it IS being tolerated by governments around the world.
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Unnecessary title aside, who else says Natasha looks at herself in the mirror hear and repeats "pain only makes you stronger", as she's being hunted away from yet another family.
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Then she's saying it again because it bears repeating and Natasha has been through A Lot these past few years. I love how unfiltered our first image of her is. After all she's been through, we basically see her stripped of all her tricks in a moment where she’s alone with herself and her thoughts(something we later learn she tries not to do much), and she's just a woman having a tiny breakdown in a semi-public bathroom. Again, human.
This is where I will leave you for this first part. Hey, I got through the intro, I count that as a win given just how long this breakdown has already been. If you’ve gotten this far, thank you for reading, come yell at me in my inbox whenever, see you for the next one xo
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exquisitley-obsessed · 4 years ago
Text
Cardinal Catastrophe
Author: @exquisitley-obsessed
Summary: Elain reaches out to Azriel after that dreaded Solstice night and they once again meet under the moonlight in the River House - but everything is different now (post ACOSF, Azriel’s the focalizer) 
Pairings: Azriel x Elain, Elriel
Word Count: 13,300+
Warnings: This does get a bit smutty and then there’s some violence towards the end.
A/N: This is like super long. It basically has everything it’s fluff, smut and angst so yeah, something for everyone. This is probably the longest oneshot I’ve ever written, I don’t know where this has come from but it’s taken me way longer to write than any of my other stuff. There’s a lot of catharsis in this and reflection on how I think both Azriel and Elain think of the situation. You’ll also get a bit of Rhys’ pov towards the ned ;)
Preview: With Elain’s eyes closed he allowed himself to greedily devour the sight of her. Just her face alone captured his attention entirely. With his eyes he memorised the curve of her cheekbones, the specific angle of her brows, even the exact chocolatey shade of her lashes. He went over it again, and again, and again, like a worshipper devouring the holy text. Azriel needed the perfection of Elain committed to memory, because he was sure that one day his luck would run out entirely. That soon he would not be permitted to even these meetings in the dead of night, with only a thousand stars as witness to their mutilated fate.
“Elain...” He tried again; his voice softer than he had ever heard it before. The person he became around Elain was foreign to himself. He had never been someone privileged enough to both love and be loved, not like this. Now that he had tasted such passions, he found he could not always recognise himself. Because he was Azriel, and he was cursed and damned, destined to be alone, to be unloved, mutilated both in mind and morality. He could not love; he shouldn’t be able to love - and yet.
MASTERLIST
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It was no exaggeration to say that Azriel’s work was of a most gruesome nature. His daily routine involved cutting into people, making them sing to his shadows, working them like a carcass in a machine until they’d spilt their guts to him before painting the walls with those same organs. As the Night Court’s spymaster, Azriel knew things that would bring kings to their knees, secrets that were interwoven into the foundations of courts, hidden information that would dissolve alliances in seconds; and yet, here he was, pacing the room like a schoolboy as he tried to swallow the fluttery ‘butterfly-like’ feeling twisting his gut.
He’d noticed the note the minute he’d entered the room. A tiny slip of paper that glowed in the moonlight from where it was perched on his work desk, a stark contrast to Azriel’s messy, tea-stained paperwork. Azriel had smelt her on it before he read it, in fact, the second he opened the door to his River House bedroom he was surrounded by her faded aroma. She must’ve breezed in and out, not wanting to overstep her bounds as she left him a note no one else was to read. Knowing her, she was probably currently riddled with guilt for entering his private space, even though, quite frankly, Azriel wouldn’t mind her invading on every aspect of his life, personal or not. Not wanting to face what her scent in his room did to him, he’d crossed the room in three strides and devoured the note in seconds; the words still rang in his head.
I need to see you.
Everything had been fine. Ever since Rhysand’s outrageous demand of Azriel several months prior, Azriel had fallen into a routine, stricter than the last, for ignoring Elain Archeron. He was working more than he ever had before, not just in quantity but in quality. Unnecessarily detailed reports were showing up on the High Lord’s desk of situations that were entirely irrelevant to the current political climate and yet, Azriel thought it was only fair Rhysand suffered somewhat from this situation too.
I’m sorry for everything.
While he was anywhere but Velaris, Elain was never anywhere else, specifically in the River House, a place he had thus far avoided with painful success. Until his High Lady had demanded he come to dinner to celebrate Nesta’s birthday, Nesta who was happier than he had ever seen her before, practically glowing with the dreaded mating bond. It still baffled him how much prevalence mating bonds had played in his life the past few years after 500 years of silence, strings of fate which seemed to only bring about the greatest happiness or the wickedest pain.
I just want to make things right.
They were so happy, all of them. Rhysand with Feyre and Nyx, Nesta and Cassian - and though he just wanted to be glad for his family, the miasma of their bliss was suffocating. Because Azriel had never felt more alone, had never been so buried in his work, so achingly tired from the unnecessary flights and dreary missions, and his harmful behaviour was turning his body into something foreign. Azriel never used to have the constant tautness across his shoulders, nor the constant black shadows under his eyes from the sleepless nights, or the aching muscles that never seemed to heal. But it was necessary – if he wanted to obey Rhysand’s order, if he wanted to maintain civility between courts, and for a plethora of other supposed noble reasons – it was necessary.
I miss you.
He just wanted her. Not in any possessive way, he just wanted to be around her. He’d come to find a specific kind of peace in her company, something about that soothed his worries and aches. So, he missed their walks in the gardens, their shared book recommendations, their inside jokes, their unspoken understanding, their healing. And above all he missed her: her smile, her laughter, the shade of her flushed cheeks, her kindness, her silence.
Azriel hadn’t realised what had been happening to him as they had gotten closer, hadn’t realised how far he’d fallen till Rhysand had pulled him out of the air. Now all that was there, was a lacking. He was busier than ever, but all around him hung the privation of her.
Meet me in the foyer when the sun sets.
So he couldn’t be around his family, couldn’t face their overwhelming joy when he was so, so alone. Maybe it would’ve been better if he had never met Elain, or at least if he hadn’t allowed himself to fall for her. But in those soft moments he shared with her, the brushes of fingertips to the sun-kissed smiles, he’d been forced to face just how alone he was, how alone he had always been. Through Elain, Azriel had had a taste of honest, unwavering love - and yet he was expected to turn his back on such a discovery, by his own family no less.
Please.
He would meet her in the foyer when the sun set. He would follow her to the ends of the Earth if she asked him to, because maybe he was just so masochistic that he didn’t mind meeting Elain only to be reminded of everything he couldn’t have. Reading the note Azriel couldn’t help but think bitterly of how the flower-grower was far more courageous than he. That she was reaching out to him after he had rejected her so brutally. Azriel jolted, flaring his wings slightly to stop the train of thought. That pained, confused look in Elain’s eye when he had said that word, haunted him. Mistake. He’d called it a mistake. Azriel raked his hands down his face and sighed.
He wished he were strong enough to either commit or drop it entirely. He wished he had it in him to do something. Azriel should’ve bitten back at Rhysand all those months ago, should’ve just dealt with this catastrophe back then rather than let it fester and rot under the proverbial carpet.
As time passed in Azriel’s knotted thoughts, the sun plummeted towards the horizon. It was a perfect summers evening, and Azriel stilled at the window to watch as the sun melted the sky into shades of pink and purple. He saw it and thought of the colour of her dress tonight, or even that dress she had worn when she’d made traditional Illyrian biscuits and demanded he tried one. He’d taken it in his pocket and only took a bite when he was alone in the shadows of a different court, and he had savoured every bite, quietly smothering his growing adoration as he did so.
Elain, Elain, Elain. His shadows whispered to him, as though they knew they would soon be in her presence. No one had ever had such an effect on his shadows, and around her he was more aware of them being a separate entity to himself. Though they were bound, around Elain they seemed to grow more confident, they acted of their own accord and would often disappear in her presence, as though his shadows knew he wished to be entirely alone with her.
Foyer...Elain...flower-grower...beautiful. Azriel was inclined to agree. And before Azriel could lose himself to shyness, the sun finally dipped behind the curve of the land, allowing a thousand glimmering stars to prickle through the endless black sky.
She would already be waiting for him, and though Azriel was nervous, he had to restrain some part of himself that longed to throw open the door and jump down the stairs two at a time. Instead, he used the shadows, stepping through them to the base of the large foyer staircase. It would be more silent this way. He wouldn’t make the same mistake of not listening to the corridors as they spoke. For Elain’s sake, he would demand the utmost privacy, even from his High Lord and Lady.
He could see her before she saw him. She was leaning of the Foyer’s centre table, fiddling with the bouquet of flowers in a glass vase - of course she was. All he could see of her was the lower half of her pale gown and her dark golden hair, cascading down her back like a waterfall. The moonlight streaming in through the large French windows gave her an angelic glow, whereas the more sensuous light of the flickering candles painted shadows across her thinly veiled curves. Both warm and cold light coming together to worship the woman who seemed to him as light herself. At the sight of her, Azriel involuntarily sucked in a breath and felt her scent hit the back of his throat, his entire body seemed to sing from her aroma alone, as though it were his own personal drug. Dangerous, this was dangerous, to be with her and to be so alone. He didn’t care.
“Elain,” she didn’t start as he spoke into the thick silence. If she had the confidence to call him here tonight, then he must source some of his own. He at least owed her that. Delicately, Elain turned and looked over her shoulder, her beautiful brown eyes finding his and melting the whole world away.
“You came,” She breathed, her shoulders sagging slightly out of relief. She turned to him properly then, and Azriel flickered his eyes over her so quickly she might’ve mistaken it for a mere blink. But he saw her, saw what she was wearing, and some core part of his soul longed to weep at the sight of her beauty.
Elain was in a nightgown, off-white cotton and silk, with cream and dusty pink lace. Pale ribbons pulled the nightdress around her breasts and down to her naval, dipping in a slight ‘v’ before the skirts flowed around her natural curves and then dropped to the floor. The neckline was agonisingly flattering, though Azriel was sure he wouldn’t look twice at the nightdress on anyone else. Her creamy skin seemed browner in the warm candlelight of the house, and as the shadows flickered, he was aware of how her collarbones stretched out to the curve of her shoulders, how she didn’t have freckles on her chest and arms but rather a specific constellation of moles, even how her hair was impossibly thick and, if memory served him well, soft too. Upper sections were pulled away from her face in an intricate pattern of braids and ties, and yet lock after lock of pale brown hair cascaded down her back and over her shoulders, framing her angelic face. Oh, that face. Poets and painters alike would weep at the sight of that face. The small, angled eyebrows that somehow made her doe eyes bigger, the freckles across her cheeks and nose, her plush lips-
“I know that you’re avoiding me,” she began, crashing Azriel back into reality. He shifted slightly, ruffling his wings as though to wake himself up. Her voice wasn’t accusing, but calm and quiet, “I know there’s a reason why you’re never around. For a while I thought you were just cooped up at the House of Wind but Nesta says that she never sees you...no one ever sees you anymore.” Azriel stayed quiet, just holding her gaze. He never needed to speak around Elain, she had quickly understood that when he had something to say, he would say it, but till then, he was comforted by the silence. And so she continued, more nervous now.
“I don’t want to be...narcissistic...but it seems to me that you’ve been distancing yourself with everyone after what happened on Solstice and...” She shifted uncomfortably, her confidence running out as she looked down at the floor and wrung her hands. “I can’t take it. I can’t take being the person whose pushed you away and I...I think we need to talk about it - or not talk about it - I’m not sure. I just, I don’t want you to avoid me anymore, even if that means we pretend that it never happened, that’s fine. I just...”
He could tell her right now the exact reason why he couldn’t be around her. Elain, he would say, I would do anything to be around you. I would kill a thousand men just to have the privilege of your company. But I can’t, Elain. Because when I’m around you, everything turns inside out, I forget everything I’m supposed to be afraid of. I become this person around you Elain, I become someone who I’ve always wanted to be, and I don’t know how to be him, if I even can. I’m not used to this, to wanting something so viscerally it feels as though I might fall apart every day I don’t see you. Elain, I don’t know how to choose happiness, I don’t know how to be selfish in that way, and above all...I don’t know how to fix this.
“I don’t care if you don’t want me like that, not if it comes at the price of your friendship. I still...need you in my life, Az,” Elain was whispering now, her large eyes slightly glassy in the candlelight. 
Azriel couldn’t help but think that Elain was evidentially stronger than him, that she could still want to be around him even if he supposedly didn’t want her. If the roles were reversed, if it had been Elain who had pushed him away, he was pretty certain he would’ve manipulated his work to make him leave the Night Court for at least several years. Of course, she was stronger than him, he was beginning to think she was stronger than them all, because of this exact trait of hers - forgiveness.
“Please...say something,” Elain’s broken voice rose through the silence. She looked at him again, tears threatening to spill. Her looking at him in such a way made something deep in his chest twist, and twist and keep on twisting. 
He didn’t know what to do, so he took a step forward, and another and another, until he was a foot’s distance away from her. The whole time her eyes never left his, her hands still twisting together at the front of her beautiful, beautiful dress. He opened his mouth to speak but once again Elain had rendered him speechless. Where could he begin, how could he begin - how could he fix this?
“Elain...” was all he managed in the end, but that seemed to be enough to soothe her as her eyes fluttered shut and she breathed deeply at the sound of her name mingled with his breath.
With Elain’s eyes closed he allowed himself to greedily devour the sight of her. Just her face alone captured his attention entirely. With his eyes he memorised the curve of her cheekbones, the specific angle of her brows, even the exact chocolatey shade of her lashes. He went over it again, and again, and again, like a worshipper devouring the holy text. Azriel needed the perfection of Elain committed to memory, because he was sure that one day his luck would run out entirely. That soon he would not be permitted to even these meetings in the dead of night, with only a thousand stars as witness to their mutilated fate.
“Elain...” He tried again; his voice softer than he had ever heard it before. The person he became around Elain was foreign to himself. He had never been someone privileged enough to both love and be loved, not like this. Now that he had tasted such passions, he found he could not always recognise himself. Because he was Azriel, and he was cursed and damned, destined to be alone, to be unloved, mutilated both in mind and morality. He could not love; he shouldn’t be able to love - and yet.
“I’m sorry,” He began, his voice barely audible. And by the way Elain’s brows furrowed slightly and her mouth tightened, he knew that she knew he was talking about the last time they’d been here, in this foyer. “I wish things were different,” He whispered, now trying to memorise the exact constellations of her freckles.
“Me too,” She breathed, her eyes still closed. “I wish I was different,” She surprised him by whispering.
“Don’t...” He murmured, silently stunned, “You...you don’t know how you...” But he had to stop himself mid-sentence, had to bite his tongue between his teeth hard enough to draw blood. Because if he started to talk, he wouldn’t stop. He would tell her everything, and he wasn’t quite ready to be so vulnerable, not when he didn’t know how to be vulnerable at all.
“I...” She opened her eyes and seemed to look at him as though for the first time. After a long pause she spoke again, “I wish I had courage.”
“Courage?” Elain paused and shifted slightly from foot to foot, as though she were debating what she would say next.
“I want to be strong, like my sisters...I want to etch out my own path rather than fumble in the dark.” Azriel thought for a moment.
“You are strong, whether you perceive yourself to be or not.” He wanted nothing more than to reach up and stroke his hand along her smooth cheek, instead he dug his nails into his already marred palm and focused on the pain’s bite.
“I will never be a general,” Elain whispered, her eyes still damp, “I will never be a High Lady or a leader, I don’t care for any of that...I wish I did. You can’t imagine how badly I wish I...” Her words ran out and her eyes became slightly glossed over and detached. Again, he felt the urge to touch her, to ground her back in reality, but he just dug his nails in deeper. “I don’t belong on battlefields, though I’d always fight when the world needed me but...I’m not a warrior; and that petrifies me.”
Again, Azriel paused, taking time to absorb every word Elain offered to him under the moonlight. Azriel adored Elain, he could’ve stood there for an hour and listed everything about her that had brought him hope. How her outlook on life had been so foreign to him, so unrealistic when he first met her, that it was extraordinary now just how jealous he was of her ability to look at the morbidity of the world, and still seek out the good.
“In a world of endless bloodshed and bitterness, do not be ashamed of not wanting to be a warrior,” Azriel whispered.
“But I’m useless,” Elain quickly interjected, “I have all this power, I feel it stirring in me and there is no part of me that wishes to manipulate it or-or exploit it.” Elain’s hands came up and danced in the air as she spoke, another quirk of hers he’d both memorised and adored. Azriel thought again, long and hard, before he spoke.
“I’ve been around a lot longer than you, and from what I’ve learnt of people is...that they’re horrible,” Azriel watched as Elain’s eyes widened and drank in his words and something twisted in his chest. People didn’t look at him like that when he talked. His brothers would wink and laugh with him, his enemies cowered and flinched, those whom he bedded would smile slyly or watch his mouth as he murmured dirty things in the dead of night. But no one looked at him like that, as though he were reciting poetry, as though he were beautiful enough to say something worthy of those big eyes and parted lips.
“You wouldn’t believe the horrors I’ve seen, or the court secrets I’ve uncovered. The way people, particular those in positions of power, treat each other, treat those around them and those below them - it’s tragic. It’s merciless and cruel.” Elain was still drinking him in, still hanging onto his every word.
“I think over the centuries, I myself became desensitised to the horrors of power and politics. Especially given my start in life. When you were human I understood your naivety, your belief in the good of the world, especially after your riches had returned and your life was content.
“But what I didn’t understand was how you continued to believe good after everything you went through. After facing the most brutal torture from the Cauldron itself...you still chose to believe in the wonderful and I-I didn’t understand that. Because I couldn’t do that. Because I’d never believed in the good of people the way you do...I had never even believed in the good of myself.
“Please don’t think that kindness is something small, or something that can be overlooked. Because when the world is little more than ruin and rubble, kindness is all we have left. We’ve just been alive so long that we forget about it, us Fae, we’ve spent so much of our lives at war that it’s easy to forget why we’d even engage in such bloodshed. It wasn’t till I met you that I was reminded that such things as tenderness and humanity even existed outside my family, and once the wars were about defending those virtues rather than snuffing them out…I just, I can’t help but think that if there were more people like you in the world, maybe Prythian wouldn’t succumb to carnage every few decades, just so that the heartless noblemen of this land can feel something.”
Azriel hadn’t meant to speak for so long, in fact, he didn’t quite understand where the words had even come from. They were true, of course. He did whole-heartedly believe everything he had just said, he just hadn’t realised how much he’d ached to say it aloud. Elain was still staring at him wide-eyed, and then there was the worst thing of all, a single tear spilling over her damp eyes and trickling down her cheek.
“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-”
“No,” Elain whispered, suddenly reaching out and sliding her palm into his from where it was hanging limp at his side. Electricity shot through his arm, and he forced himself to look at her in the eye as he tensed his legs so that they didn’t crumple underneath him. “No, it’s good I’m, I’m glad you said it I...”
But again, words seemed to evade Elain as she looked up at him. Azriel was now hyperaware of her how close she was, of her smooth palm that fit so nicely in his own. His body often reacted on its own accord around Elain, and he had spent months leashing his desires into chains, beasts that could only come out in the dead of night. But since that dreaded Solstice night last winter, everything had changed.
Life these past few months had consisted of the battle between two extremes. Either he was drowning in the way his body seemed to ache and beg for her, his mind obsessing over their stuttering relationship as though it were a philosophical debate. Especially since he now knew that some part of her wanted him and had wanted to kiss him even with her mate sleeping upstairs. The fact that he now knew what her scent tasted like, how her voice sounded when it was breathy and desperate - it all fuelled the fantasies that haunted him the moment he made it back to his room. He could be on the other side of Prythian and somehow the presence of Elain Archeron would find a way to him.
The other extreme was complete and total deprivation. The reality that he hadn’t seen her for months, that she would soon exist more in memory than experience. Even though his fantasies of her were so visceral, so tangible, the reality that she was not in the room with him always came crashing down by the time his head had cleared - and then he’d feel more alone than ever before.
But when he was here, with her, the argument ceased. The torture and the pain, the writhing mind and aching debates, it all fell into beautiful silence. And so, looking at her now, he was unable to help himself. And without thought, he reached up and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear as he murmured under his breath, no more than a whisper, “Elain Archeron...saviour of the cursed and damned...”
As Azriel’s fingers grazed Elain’s cheek, a horribly confused and upset look twisted her face. She seemed to freeze at the contact and Azriel halted at her discomfort, internally berated himself for pushing her too far, for being so arrogant in thinking he could touch her in such a way.
“I...Azriel...I don’t understand,” Elain’s breathless voice seemed to caress him, and once more he found himself tensing his legs so that they wouldn’t give out under him. “You don’t want me...you said it was a mistake...” Azriel stilled, and he caught her eye in a moment of alarmed sobriety.
“You and I both know that’s not true.”
He couldn’t stop the words before they spilled from his lips. It didn’t matter how soft, how quiet, his voice was, the words were innately harsh and something deep against his spine lurched at the thought of her hurting her - of hurting her again.
But Elain didn’t flinch. Her eyes, instead of widening in shock, stayed stoically still and calm. And then Azriel watched as those honeyed eyes he loved so much lapsed darker and darker, the floral musk of her arousal drifting to him like a moth to a flame, the same scent he’d been dreaming of for months, the memory of it alone making his body achingly hard and taut, as though his own skin existed only to respond to the call of hers.
The scent surrounded him, sending blood to his cock which was now throbbing viscerally against the seams of his leathers. His arousal had never felt so tight before, so extreme and sudden. He felt it, heavy in his lower abdomen, twisting and knotting his guts in both pain and pleasure. That was familiar, that he’d felt a hundred times before, but for Elain Acheron his whole body seemed to sing. His blood burned under his skin as it pounded through his body, whilst his heart was light and fluttery in his chest, as though it might edge up his throat and fall from his lips. His eyes felt heavy lidded as though he were drunk, and even though he were standing stoically still, even though he hadn’t done anything yet, he found himself short of breath.
He had never wanted something more - never. Not Mor. Not a job. Not a secret, not information. Not salvation, not mercy. God, it seemed as though in this instant, Elain had invented want for him.
He would beg for her. Right now, in the foyer where he’d first tasted this personal drug. Had Elain not been holding him up by her eyes and a single palm he would already be on his knees. He moved to fall down before her, like a worshipper at a temple, when movement at her mouth caught his eye. Azriel watched as her delicate, pink tongue slowly dragged along her lower lip to wet it as she blinked innocently at him. Azriel’s resolve was gone in a puff of smoke.
Fuck Rhysand. Fuck Lucien. Fuck the Mother, the Cauldron, the world. Fuck anyone who stood between him and Elain who he knew, he knew, wanted him as badly as he wanted her. Because of course she did. Because whatever this was, whatever was happening between them, was otherworldly and impossible to ignore.
And good luck to them, was the last though Azriel had before he leaned in. Good luck to anyone who ever dare stand between him and her, because he’d kill them - he’d fucking kill them.
Despite his body beating like a drum for Elain’s melody, he did not kiss her right away. Once he’d accepted that he would kiss her, once he’d come to that inevitable conclusion it felt like a thousand doors of golden light opened before his eyes, and it took everything he had to not sob with joy.
All those fantasies he had revelled in for the past year that had been shrouded in a miasma of fantasy and shame, rolled through his mind clear as day. He could kiss her lips. Those soft pads of blushing rose that he had already committed to memory. Or he could trace down and press his lips to the sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder, a crook of intimacy that he’d already figured out from watching her protect it with her hands when someone stood behind her. He could kiss her temples, her cheeks, her throat - every fucking inch of her.
Now that his resolve had snapped like an elastic band stretched too far, he found that he was finally free. Looking at her he hadn’t realised how long he had taken, how slowly he was leaning in until Elain’s fingers suddenly gripped the leathers across his chest and her brows furrowed as she pulled closer to him, her eyes dark and desperate, her mouth wet and parted as she half-gasped, half-whispered, “Please....Azriel...”
He did moan then. A low, throaty sound that escaped him at the sound of his name intertwined with her breathy gasps. He snapped.
He had intended to savour every second of kissing her, but the moment his lips touched hers, he felt fire. Elain’s hands ran up his chest before intertwining themselves in his hair as she pulled herself against him and he moaned again, the second time in a minute, into her mouth. Because he could feel her, all of her, pressed against his hot throbbing body. The soft pressure of her breasts, the bones of her hips, even one of her legs had tucked between his own, the sides of their knees brushing together. She was going to kill him. She was going to fucking kill him.
And then there was her mouth. Softer than petals, and so obviously hers in taste and touch. Every time their lips brushed, every time he felt her perfect breath mingling with his own, shivers erupted across his body. Unable to stop himself he brushed back her hair before firmly grasping the side of her neck, his hand was so large against her velvet skin that he knew he could probably hold her entire throat in one hand. He put it there as an ode to the last time he’d been here. He’d put it there as a fuck you to fate.
His other hand curled around her waist and pressed against her back where - and he moaned again - Elain’s exposed skin greeted him.
He wanted to take her right her. Wanted to lie her down on the carpet and bury his head between her thighs as he had done so many times before in his fantasies. How he ached to taste her, all of her, to pin her writhing thighs back with one hand and wrists with the other. He wanted to look at her perfect angelic face as he made her sing sinful sounds for him. Wanted to make her toes curl and back arch as she came on his tongue. Again, and again, and again.
Elain tugged slightly on Azriel’s hair and he was thrust back into his body, back into the present, and he had to stifle another moan because those thousands of fantasies had nothing, nothing, on this.
In response to Elain’s needy tug, Azriel bent slightly and curled a hand around the back of each of her thighs and hoisted her up against his chest. Elain, much to his delight, snapped her legs around him as he lifted her against his chest, their lips still ferociously dancing. He only had to walk a few paces to set her against the edge of the lobby table, but that particular move was one that had been haunting him more recently of late.
He went to pull away after she was set down on the wooden tabletop. He wanted to see her, with her hair ruffled and her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen and her chest heaving. He wanted to commit that image to memory because there was still some part of him that could not believe this was real.
But as he moved to step back, Elain caught him off guard as her legs tightened from where they were wrapped around his hips, something of a growl arising from the back of her throat as she fisted his leathers and pulled him against her. Azriel obeyed her, like a puppy on a leash, leaning his hands against the table, either side of her hips, in order to stay standing.
She was flushed against him once more. Her breasts pushed against his chest which felt suffocated by the Illyrian leathers, he ached to have her skin brushing against his own, but all in good time. He slipped his tongue into her mouth then and revelled in the juxtaposing thrill and relaxation of exploring her in this way. But there was still an inch of space between their hips. He didn’t know why he left it there, even when Elain dragged him against her, perhaps it was because he knew the minute they were aligned in cardinal perfection, there would be no turning back. He would be hers and vice versa, and she would be his muse and his priority, and he would put her before everything - even his High Lord.
To steady himself, Azriel made the mistake of taking his hand and bracing himself on Elain’s thigh. What he was not expecting was for his palm to find the soft, exposed flesh of her leg from where her dress must’ve mischievously ridden upwards when he had lifted her.
Purely on instinct, Azriel moaned and drove his hips forward into her core, earning a breathy sigh from them both as they finally found an inch of friction in their writhing. There was only fabric now. Measly layers of fabric that came between them.
“Fuck...” Elain gasped into his mouth and some outrageously animalistic part of him growled in satisfaction at having pulled a sinful swear from her angelic mouth. Azriel kept one hand against the wood near her hips to stay steady, to stop himself from grounding his hips into her like an uncontrollable beast, the other stayed on the warm, smooth flesh of her exposed thigh.
Slowly, he began to trace rough circles with his thumb on her inner thigh earning a flutter of breathy sighs to dance from her lips which pleased his soul to no avail. Azriel parted from her lips and began to pepper kisses along her jawline as he torturously inched his thumb up, inch by inch with each circle. When Azriel began to kiss and suck on the spot just below her ear he allowed himself to peek at her as he worked.
Her head was tilted back slightly, her throat bobbing as high hums fluttered from her. If he could paint he would paint the perfect blush of her swollen lips. If he were a poet he would turn her breathy moans into the sweetest of sonnets. And then she tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth as a soft moan escaped her and he had to look away, if only to stop himself from reaching down and fisting himself at the sight of it.
With his head turned Azriel hissed out of surprise as his thumb rubbed against a sticky sweetness coating her inner thigh. God she was wet. And as he rubbed further, coating his thumb in her essence, he had to bite his cheek as to not come in his pants like a schoolboy. Azriel stopped rubbing circles in favour for taking his first finger and tracing back and forth over the highest point of her thigh, slow and torturous as he familiarised himself with the feel of her. His heart threatening to beat out of his chest when his fingers brushed against a lacy frill at the apex of her thigh. Tilting his head Azriel was able to husk into her ear.
“What do you want Elain?” His voice was low and breathy before he caught her lobe between his teeth. Another shuddering gasp floated from her lips. 
“I want you to touch me...and I don’t want you stop,” the sound of her voice so mingled with pleasure and need was almost enough to undo him. “Ever,” She went on, “Not until I don’t know my own name.” 
She was going to kill him. Growling in satisfaction he rewarded her answer with one quick brush over her lace underthing's, the touch was like electricity for them both. Elain physically tremored as Azriel finally brushed where she needed him most, and Azriel shuddered at the contact with the girl of his dreams. 
“Please, Azriel,” Azriel stilled for a moment, wondering how she would react to his instinctual next move. His particular flavour of making love.
“Say that again,” He said slowly, his voice barely more than a brutal, low husk. As he spoke Azriel allowed some of his power to ebb into the words, the siphons a top his hands guttering as they came to life. It felt slightly wrong to use such a voice on her, the one he so often used with enemies, but Azriel watched as Elain’s lips parted, her pupils expanding as her breath grew heavy in response to his dominant voice. Oh, Azriel couldn’t help but think in agonising awe. Maybe his deep assumptions, the ones that only haunted him in that void he entered before he fell asleep, were true. That Elain, the purest of sisters, was also the filthiest.
“Please, Az,” Her voice was breathy and pleading, but there was something alight in her eyes as she begged him.
“Good girl,” Azriel couldn’t stop himself from husking as he peeled back the top of the lace. They both stared unwaveringly into each other’s eyes as Azriel dipped his hands along her, not touching just hovering. He held his hand there, an inch away from where she needed him most, waiting until she almost whimpered before he slid a single finger slowly through her folds. 
Her reaction was blissful to see. The way she bit her lip, her back arched, and her eyes fluttered shut. Azriel moved with her, his own mouth parted, and brows furrowed as he stroked her again.
“Don’t close your eyes,” He murmured in his voice of steel, “Look at me.” Elain’s eyes snapped open, and it was his turn to be caught off guard. Gone was the hazelnut colour, even the sensuous black he had somehow lulled them into, what met him was the colour of bright honey and her eyes, they were glowing. They stood out like gemstones being pierced by golden light. It was then that Azriel began to take note of their surroundings and realise that the thrumming was not just happening inside him but all around him. Ripple after ripple of raw, ancient power was bleeding from Elain, fizzing into the air and turning the entire foyer into something alive and electric. A shiver ran along Azriel’s entire body as his own powers itched to sing in harmony with hers; cobalt energy rising to meet her golden light.
Her folds were dripping, and he was having an internal debate on whether or not to rip off her underwear. On one hand he would have better access, he would be able to pleasure her better, and he could even push her back against the table and lower his head and taste her. On the other, he couldn’t stand being disconnected from her for a second. 
Whilst he debated, he slowly raked his finger up her again before finding that small bundle of nerves. When he caught it with his fingertip and began to drag slow, luxurious circles over it, a throaty, guttural moan escaped her lips. He bit his cheek again. He wondered if anyone had fucked her like this and again, that pride bloomed when he realised that he might be the first. Not her first, but the first person to show her the true ecstasy of pleasure.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Elain gasped as her head fell forward on his shoulder. Azriel allowed the eye contact to break, too absorbed by the feeling of having Elain writhing under his fingers to care.
He’d always thought that he could die a happy man if ever he was blessed enough to experience such a joy as Elain Archeron, but now he realised what a stupid notion that was. Because Elain wasn’t cause for death but cause for life. He’d live for Elain, Azriel realised. Elain who was writhing and mewling into his shoulder as he slowly brought her to the ecstasy she deserved. She was close and following this he would winnow them away to either his unused apartment in central Velaris, or deep in the gardens on this summer night, where they would be entirely alone, and everything would be perfect. And once they’d had their fill on the pure bliss of one another they could talk about everything, and they’d find a solution and they’d work it out, and everything would be okay - and then Rhysand walked in, and everything came crashing down.
Some part of Azriel’s hazy mind had been aware of the movement deep in the house but it had been so, so inconsequential compared to what was in front of him. And his shadows, well his shadows were nowhere to be seen, not with golden light quite literally thrumming from Elain. There had been no warning, and as Rhys met Azriel’s eye when he still had his fingers flush against Elain some primal part of Azriel reared its head.
In an instant Azriel’s siphons were spluttering to life as power surged through Azriel, his wings instinctively flaring as wide as they would stretch, so that the cresting talon of each wing scraped into the polished walls. Rhys, who was standing at the edge of the foyer, an unrecognisable expression scorched into his face, was a threat at that moment, and the whole world seemed to still as Azriel slowly came down from the high of his arousal.
Slowly, Azriel removed his hand from Elain’s underwear and smoothed down her skirts to cover her legs, all the while never moving his eyes from Rhys. He didn’t care if he was in for the doghouse, didn’t give a shit about what consequences his happiness had just induced - Elain came first.
And right now, even though it was a ludicrous thought, Azriel was preparing himself to protect Elain from Rhysand. Elain’s whose nightgown had slipped down her shoulder, whose eyes were wide as she glanced over her shoulder at her brother-in-law, exposed and vulnerable just as she’d been on the worst night of her life.
“Azriel,” Rhysand finally spoke and Azriel shifted slightly to pull Elain closer to his chest. “My office...now.” It seemed as though all sense of formality had dropped as Rhysand’s High Lord voice billowed into the room. Azriel didn’t speak, didn’t move either, just shifted his eyes to Elain whose face was blanch and confused.
“Can’t this wait?” Azriel asked, his voice low and full of strength. Instantly he realised that he should’ve worded his question better. He didn’t want time in order to finish off what he and Elain had begun, but rather to give Elain a moment to breathe, for her to fix her dress and smooth her hair, for her to do whatever she needed to do before she was forced to face her family. Rhysand’s eyes darkened, and he entered the room in a low stride, both hands digging deep into his pockets. Azriel moved instantly, stepping around Elain to put himself in front of her as Rhysand approached.
Without a word Rhysand came closer and closer, and Azriel continued to stretch his wings to cover Elain from whatever vitriol was about to be thrown his way. But Rhysand didn’t say anything, he didn’t even move suddenly, just reached out a single hand until it was barely touching Azriel’s arm as darkness surrounded them both.
Before Azriel even had a chance to realise that Rhysand was winnowing them away – away from Elain – they were standing in his office, and Azriel couldn’t help but shake his head at the slight Deja-vu of the whole situation. Except this time, he wouldn’t be bounding himself in shackles, he’d be setting himself free, whether Rhys wanted him to or not.
Azriel was standing in front of the large mahogany desk of Rhysand’s office whilst it’s owner moved behind it, one hand still in his pocket. Already the air in the room was taut with energy, as though the very air were cowering in the face of the upcoming argument. And still Azriel’s mind was still thinking of the girl in the foyer, her name like a mantra beating through his body,
“Put your cock away Azriel,” Rhys immediately spat in response to the ripples of cobalt energy rippling from Azriel’s form. Azriel didn’t deem the childish comment with a retort, though his arousal was already gone, and quickly replaced by the tautness of anger and frustration. His shadows had returned to him now that he was away from Elain, and they were writhing uncontrollably around his legs and back.
Azriel stayed standing, folding his arms over his chest just for something to do. It was then that Rhys sighed heavily, leaning against his desk and hanging his head. He wasn’t as tired nor as desperate as when they’d last spoken like this - of this. No, now Rhys had everything. Everything he had ever, and could ever want, and now his fight lay in protecting the paradise he had found in Feyre and Nyx. Whilst Azriel was still in the dark, still alone, still secretly in agony - they were not the same.
“I gave you the simplest of orders,” Rhys sighed like a disappointed father and something brutally aggressive awoke in Azriel. How dare he, how dare Rhys speak to him like that?
“I know,” Azriel said, his voice indiscernible and calm. Rhys swung his head up to glare at Azriel, something emotional lingering in his violet eyes.
“You know? Then, Azriel, why did you take it upon yourself to disobey me?” Azriel’s grip on his biceps tightened. 
“Elain is...” Azriel began before he had to lower his eyes. What was Elain? How could he explain to Rhys the inexplicable way he felt about the angelic gardener? The effect she had on him, it was both irrational and yet made perfect sense. And right now, he could barely focus with knowing that somewhere in this house she was looking around confused, wondering what the hell had just happened. “She’s important to me. More than you realise.”
“She has a mate.”
“That is irrelevant-”
“Irrelevant?” Rhysand looked as though he might laugh and Azriel once more gripped his arms tight enough to bruise. “I thought I made it perfectly clear to you Azriel that the bond between Elain and Lucien-” Azriel growled at his name, Rhys ignored him, “-is paramount to the civility between us and not just the Autumn Court, not just the Spring Court or the Day Court, but also the Band of Exiles and the Human realms.”
“And have you ever wondered if maybe Elain deserves better?”
“Better than Lucien-” Rhys practically squawked. 
“No,” Azriel growled, allowing his anger to show, “Better than us. Better than a family who reduce her to little more than a political pawn-”
“She is my sister,” Rhysand spat, standing up straight with a newfound intensity. “Don’t you dare question my treatment of her, don’t you dare suggest I don’t care for her.”
“Are you truly so out of touch that you do not see the shackles you’ve tied around her wrists?” Azriel uncurled his arms, “You’ve stripped her of any choice-”
“This is not about choice!”
“This has everything to do with choice!”
“Elain is a valued member of my family but also of my court. As her High Lord, I have made a difficult decision but one that will undoubtedly strengthen this us in the now impending war. It was a tough decision and if you want me to be the bad guy, fine, I’ll be the bad guy, but you will obey my orders as this is the best choice for Elain.”
“Then why don’t you ask her,” Azriel growled, grappling with the internal leash on his powers, “Why don’t you actually include her in the decisions you’ve made about her life.”
“I don’t know what you’re insinuating,” Rhys flicked invisible lint from his suit, “But Elain is a valued member of these discussions.” 
“Then why isn’t she here?” Azriel husked quietly, full of venom. Rhysand apparently didn’t have anything to say to that, so Azriel went on. “You claim to value choice Rhysand, and yet you’ve stripped Elain of not just her own volition, but the simple knowledge of the choices made about her life.”
There was something bitter clanging through Azriel as he spat the words, he knew what it was, it was a word - hypocrite. Because whilst Azriel was fighting for Elain, really he should be allowing for Elain to fight for herself. He should’ve left the office the minute Rhysand winnowed them and searched for Elain. He should’ve told her, all those months ago, about why he could no longer be around her. And that’s why Elain deserved better, better than Rhys and better than him, because even now they talked of her rather than with her.
“You are to stay away from her,” Rhysand said at last, glaring out the study’s window almost as though he was ignoring Azriel.
“I can’t do that. Not anymore,” Azriel husked, and Rhys paused, catching Azriel’s eye before he hastily looked to the side and raked a hand through his hair. 
“I told you, Azriel. I told you to stay away from Ly-” Both Azriel and Rhys’ eyes widened at the name that nearly fell from Rhysand’s lips. A revelation occurring to them both as the name Rhys’ long deceased sister was brought into the room. “Elain,” Rhys corrected himself, acting unbothered by his slip. “I told you stay away.”
Azriel didn’t know how to respond. He’d spend hours in training rings, on long haul flights or espionage ventures thinking of this specific argument. The way he’d tell Rhys all the things he should’ve said on that Solstice night, about the disservice they were both doing to Elain, about how it was outrageous of Rhys to demand Azriel put politics before his happiness after, well, everything. 
After Azriel had spent 500 years alone with only a doomed infatuation with a woman who would never love him back. After Azriel had always favoured to be alone, to suffer in silence, to take the blame, and now he finally had an out. After Azriel had to put up with both his brothers finding their perfect happiness, Rhys himself almost starting a war by perusing and protecting Feyre.
Why was it so different for him? Why was it the moment Azriel had happiness within an arm’s reach there were a thousand excuses for him not to have it? What was so poisonous about his desires? About him?
“She’s not Lydia,” Azriel said at last. It was a low blow. Especially since Rhys had so clearly tried to cover up his slip a moment ago. “For one, you would never treat Lydia with such little respect. Elain is her own person and I’m not going to fight with you, or Lucien, or anyone for that matter like she’s some kind of prize.”
This argument was too real. Of course, they’d had arguments before, all three of them had. Azriel could remember a particularly nasty one between Cassian and Rhys where they hadn’t spoken for a year, Azriel bouncing between them like an owl. But this wasn’t a brotherly squabble, not when the stakes were so high.
Rhys sighed, still not meeting Azriel’s eye as a muscle in his jaw ticked. It seemed as though the High Lord also understood the irregularity of the dispute, or maybe he was just furious at facing his own errors, at his spymaster criticising him on failing someone so important on a matter which Rhysand prided himself on - the volition of the women in his life. After what happened with his mother and his sister, to find out he was now failing his new family must be driving him mad.
“You just can’t keep it in your pants can you Azriel?” 
It may have been less shocking if Rhys had just leaned over and stabbed Azriel in the gut. His words clanged into the air with a sour metallic taste, and for a moment Azriel lost his breath, his jaw slackening as his shock registered before he could swiftly cover the expression with the mask of steel he’d perfected. The silence following the comment was perhaps worse than the blow itself. Now it was Azriel who couldn’t stand looking at his brother. He didn’t care if Rhys looked apologetic, didn’t care for him at all. 
“Do you really think so low of me?” Azriel’s voice was deathly quiet, before he finally shifted his eyes up to see the raw regret plastered on his brothers face.
“No, I-” A vicious knock came at the door then, interrupting whatever apology Rhys was going to throw his way.
“Open the door,” Came Elain’s voice, more brutal than he’d ever heard it before. Something electric shot through Azriel at the sound of it, of her. If anything, her voice was a reminder that this was real, that his hair was tousled, and lips swollen because of Elain-fucking-Archeron.
Rhys didn’t move for the door, so Azriel did. Turning around, he walked the length of Rhys’ office to the large double oak doors and pulled one back without hesitation. He knew she deserved to be here, that she should’ve been here from the start. 
Azriel was so set on opening the door for the sake of justice and fairness that he momentarily forget that it was Elain on the other side, and the sight of her made his breath stop in his throat. Her hair was still ruffled from where he had raked his hands through it, and her lips still blushed from where he had tugged on them with his teeth. There was also a faint flush of her cheeks, either from their previous activities or from running through the River House searching for him and his brother.
Something electric and charged ran the entire length of his body at the sight of her - not arousal, something deeper. And by the way her glowing eyes drank him in, he knew she felt it too. Azriel stepped aside and let her pass into the office and walk up to Rhysand’s desk. As he followed her, something bitter twisted in his gut - whatever was blooming between himself and the gardener was a thing to celebrate. Such love, light and warmth in his life which had thus far consisted of cold loneliness was a joyous and wonderful thing. And yet he was made to feel ashamed of his happiness, by his brother. His own damn brother.
“What’s going on?” Elain spoke in her traditionally soft voice, but even Rhys must’ve picked up and the unwavering steel that seeped from her tone, so similar to Nesta’s pitch. 
“Nothing, Elain. Just a dispute between myself and Azriel. It’s nothing you need concern yourself with,” Rhysand’s easy smile warmed through his cheeks and Azriel was sure he was going to punch him before the night was out.  
“Don’t lie to me Rhysand, it’s not a good look for a High Lord,” Elain spoke smoothly, folding her arms over her chest as Azriel had done moments ago. Rhys’ expression only flickered in response. “Now, what’s going on?” Elain asked again.
“Well,” Rhysand began, “Me and Azriel have been discussing you actually, you see, your bond with Lucien is unfortunately paramount to a lot of peace and unity between our court and others.” Rhysand looked blankly at Evie as he spoke, completely dethatched from the emotional anger he’d unleashed on Azriel moments ago.
“Is this about me breaking the bond?” Elain said, her voice smooth like honey, healing the sparking energy in the room as Azriel and Rhysand had geared up for a fight. Something about the question twisted Azriel’s guts. It was her terminology; it was all wrong. There was no such thing as breaking a bond, one could reject it and render the attachment limp and lifeless, but breaking a bond was only achieved in death, and even then some believe the bond to continue in the next life. It was just a reminder that Elain knew nothing about this world, Lucien had placed the acceptance or rejection of the bond in her hands, but she did not even know what either option would truly entail. Her education, it was another thing they’d all failed her on.
“If you wish to reject your bond with Lucien I, nor anyone in this court, will prevent you from doing so,” Rhysand said smoothly, “However, given the current political climate, I must say it would be best to leave this till after the war.” Elain did not look away as she thought.
“I don’t want the bond,”
“That’s perfectly okay-”
“No,” Elain interrupted, “I don’t want the bond at all. I don’t want to have to accept or reject anything - I just don’t want it...you....you don’t know what it’s like, to be pulled apart limb by limb, and be remade against your will, to find yourself destroyed and then re-crafted by something as unapologetic as the Cauldron itself. I was violated to the most extravagant degree and when I finally came around, when I finally managed to find something recognisable in myself, months after that night, I came around to find that I had been reduced to some ancient claim a stranger possessed over me. You are all kind, and you all mean well, but I know you all see myself as his.
“It was on the worst night of my life, the night when I had been pulled apart till I was only vessels and blood, he called me his. He is not a bad person I can see that,” her voice wobbled slightly then, “He is kind and witty, he’s working harder than any of you for the forgiveness of my sister. He doesn’t deserve…” She choked up slightly, but cleared her throat to cover it up, “He’s not bad…but this bond is terrible, it’s worst then terrible, it’s suffocating. And when I think of that bond, tied around my ribs like some kind of violating shackle, I just think of how it felt to suffocate on black water...that’s what this bond means to me, it’s a violation on top of a violation. So, to hear that to you, this bond gives you a political advantage, that you get a gain out of it and that you wish me to continue living in torment I...
“I wish I could be sorry about feeling this way, but I don’t. I have stayed quiet, and I have played the role you needed me to play. I keep out of your way; I busy myself with the gardens and dinner and I do everything I can to not bare my teeth every time he visits. But I...” Her wide, damp eyes turned to look at Azriel, “I have found something living in the never ending grave of my life. After I found myself again, all those months after the Cauldron, it felt as though it was only then I emerged from the black water. After I found...” She trailed off, stilling holding Azriel’s eye, “...I was not just out the black water, but back on the ground.” 
A small silence settled over the room as Azriel and Elain found themselves quickly lost in one another again, Rhys was merely glancing between the two, his mind whirring as he tried to click together the puzzle in front of him.
“I tried Rhys…I really did,” Azriel finally whispered into the heavy silence, still not looking away from his beloved. “I’ve done everything short of chaining myself in the dungeons to stay away, but I can’t.” It wasn’t until the words had left Azriel’s mouth that he realised his error. And it wasn’t until Elain’s brows furrowed and her eyes moved to Rhysand, that he felt his heart drop.
“What?” Elain whispered. One of the thousand questions she no doubt harvested. Azriel couldn’t look away from her, couldn’t meet his brothers eye. He had this awful feeling now twisting his guts, the feeling that everything was about to come crashing down.
“I ordered Azriel to stay away from you,” Rhys said evenly. Always the honest man.
“I...what?” Elain spluttered softly, her eyes narrowing on Rhysand. “What?”
“He called me away on solstice night when I was about to kiss you, that’s why I stopped.” That’s why I called it a mistake. Elain’s eyes burned even brighter and Azriel wondered if he should’ve held his tongue. If he should’ve just waited to have this conversation tomorrow where whatever ancient power that was stirring in Elain had calmed down. Now Elain’s glowing eyes seemed to fill the room with golden light, even the black night shrouding Rhysand’s figure ebbed back and inch.
“What?” Elain’s voice rung out, the magic in the room quickly turning volatile.
“I am sorry Elain; I didn’t mean to meddle with your private affairs, but with Lucien under the same roof it would’ve been too risky for those in the house. He could’ve invoked something called a ‘blood duel’.” Of course, Elain didn’t know that, of course none of her friends or family had taken the time to explain that to her. 
“You…you sanctimonious dick,” Elain spat. Had it been any other day, Azriel would’ve had to fight an astonished grin at hearing the words on her lips, but not tonight, not when everything was turning so morbid in front of his eyes.
“I’m sorry Elain, I truly am. But I’m not just your brother-in-law but your High Lord and I cannot risk my entire court for the mild infatuation of a-”
“Don’t speak to her like that,” The words were writhing in venom as Azriel spat them out. He would go down with her. 
“No, Azriel, you don’t speak to me like that,” And with that Rhys’ last straw was gone. In an instant his power was billowing into the room in clouds of black smoke. Rhys acting in such a way in front of Elain, who was already vulnerable, her dress already ruffled and her eyes wide in alarm, made Azriel furious.
“I am your high lord, Azriel, and I gave you a direct command and you have disobeyed me-” Without thinking Azriel’s own icy power rose to the surface, his siphons lighting on fire at the surge. If Elain was frightened by their display of bottomless power she did not show it, perhaps as her own fire was still burning vividly behind her eyes, perhaps since she knew she had more power than them both.
“Have you ever thought perhaps you stepped out of line by asking such a thing of me?” Azriel had never heard his voice so loud and angry before. He didn’t do this. His arguments were stoic and brutal, but mostly silent. He never fought politics - he carved into people who were in chains, and when there was an argument he stayed in the shadows and listened.
“You are my spymaster-”
“I am your brother!” Azriel’s choked sob echoed into the room. “Do I not deserve to be happy?” Rhysand at least had the decency to flinch, to reel back and allow his jaw to slacken in shock.
“Of course, you deserve to be happy brother,” Rhysand’s voice was low and strangled, “But this isn’t just romance – it’s never just romance – this will be a battle-”
“And I’m willing to fight!” Azriel roared, his hands slamming into Rhysand’s desk, his power causing the entire house to shudder, right down to the foundations.
“Azriel,” Rhys’ voice was deathly quiet, “I need you to calm down.” For a moment Azriel didn’t understand, his mind was so focused on Elain, on his own shuddering heart and writhing powers that he simply could not comprehend the words that came out his brothers mouth. Finally, the message registered in his mind and he became aware of his shadows, flourishing and filling the entire room, crawling over the windows and blocking out all the light. The only way he was seeing Rhysand was via the golden glow that came from Elain’s eyes. Disgust racked through his body at the sight of the manifestation of his swirling pain, but before he could do anything, the leash on his powers snapped.
“Azriel-” The next series of events was a blur. Power billowed into the room in a quick explosion, God knows whose it was. Perhaps it was initially Azriel who had finally lost control on that leash on his Illyrian gifts, perhaps Rhysand moved to repress Azriel’s powers with his own, premature or not. Maybe the quiet Elain had had enough of the noise. In an instant, a cocktail of three brands of magic billowed towards each other before exploding outwards, sending a wave of pure, unhinged chaos through the room, the house, and the whole of Velaris.
They all were thrown back from each other, Rhys flying up and landing on his feet, bracing himself against the ornamental globe as his wings appeared and flared. But even he, the most powerful High Lord in history had his knees bent and his arms raised as he braced himself against the fizzling aftershock of the ancient power that tore through the air. Azriel’s centuries of training kicked in as he was catapulted the length of the room, his own wings flared to slow his flight before he caught himself on the doorframe, the weighty wooden doors having flung open, it took an immense amount of physical upper body strength to keep himself upright as the wave of power subsided, his teeth grinding together as his muscles screamed.
But he wasn’t aware of the pain of his screaming muscles, wasn’t thinking about how his wings were in danger of being shredded by the power that ripped through the room. There was only one person, that his entire being seemed to lurch for as his mind screamed her name over and over. Elain.
Elain.
Elain.
He had seen as her pale form was flung away from him towards the cabinets, had heard the shattering of glass over the howling in his ears. Of course, he and Rhysand were okay, they had centuries of power and training under their belts but Elain…Elain didn’t have training, and she had flown through the air the fastest, taking the brunt of the powers rebound, her small form crashing into the case of Rhysand’s prized artefacts.
The minute Azriel had control of his own body and wasn’t being thrust back into the hallway, he winnowed to her, stepped into the shadows with a haste and urgency he’d never felt before. Wrong. He’d felt this fear before, he recognised it’s taste from the poisonous memories of that night Elain had been ripped away from them, leaving behind nothing but a vacant cot and warm sheets. Memories of that night often haunted his dreams; how ridiculously lucky they had gotten that they had reached Elain minutes before the King of Hybern got his hands on her. In his dreams he was too late. In his nightmares he fails her, and by the time he and Feyre find the tent she’s already gone. Sometimes there’s a body, and sometimes his unconscious mind is kind enough to just leave behind her lingering scent. That night he learned what it was like to truly fear, to have the blood leave your body, to feel the world still.
And that’s what the world did as he stepped onto the other side of the shadows. Elain was crumpled on the floor underneath the large bay windows, moonlight streaming into the mutilated room and illuminating her still form. It was as though the starlight was searching for her, reaching out to her with hands made of silver shadows.
Glass crunched under Azriel’s boots as he took a step forward, and another, and another. Because he could scent it before he saw it – the blood. The sour metallic taste that clogged up the air, interwoven with her own delicate scent. Wrong, it was so wrong, to have Elain’s scent fused with that of blood. She was facing away from him, crumpled on her side in a foetal position, and he could see her arms, her beautiful nimble arms so like the legs of a doe, limp on the floor and marred with what seemed to be a thousand cuts.
Her blood was black in the moonlight, and was colouring her beautiful, beautiful night dress. The roaring in Azriel’s ears was nothing short of explosive. And before him he saw a black wave, taller than the Ramiel, heading straight for him. One that was made of self-loathing, anger, frustration and agony, and as he dropped to his knees in front of Elain he felt it wash over him, burying him deeper in himself than he’d ever been before, and he knew he would not resurface.
Slowly, as not to hurt her further, Azriel rolled Elain over onto her back and into his lap. With shaky fingers he pushed back her hair, just as he had done less than an hour earlier. Her eyes were shut again, but this time he didn’t look at her face for beauty, but for a sign of life.
“Elain…” He whispered; his voice was softer than petals. She did not stir.
“Elain…” He murmured again as he bowed his head and pressed it against her chest, sticky blood rubbing against his cheek as he did so. For a moment it was all silent, and Azriel felt the world drop away, felt himself falling through bottomless black water only to never resurface.
And then there it was. The familiar ‘thu-thump’ beating slow and steady in her chest, the sweetest melody Azriel had ever heard. But before he could revel in the relief of Elain being alive, movement at the side of his eye made him snap his head, turn up his top lip and let loose a nothing but feral growl. It was his brother, and a small wave of shame rolled through him at having behaved in such a way to someone whom he owed so much.
“Azriel…” Rhysand’s voice was soothing, calm, “She’s having a vision…look, Azriel look. She’s okay, she’s just having a vision.”
And so, he looked again and yes, she was having a vision. Behind her eyelids Azriel could see her pupils flurrying side to side as though she were engaged in some riveting dream.
She’s having a vision; she’s having a vision. His shadows chanted to him, running up his back and whispering in his ear. It didn’t soothe him, but rather caused the cloud of anger around him to disappear, so that he was numb again. Some movement deep in the house pulled at his attention, but it was like a ribbon trying to move an ocean, there was nothing for it to hold onto.
And soon both men were turning to the worst thing of all: Feyre and Nesta, standing at the doorway looking at their sister unresponsive in a pool of blood, both primed and ready to kill. 
“Get away from her.” Nesta’s voice clanged through the room like steel as she strode forward, seeming to fill the broken room with her strength alone. As she moved she revealed a slightly dazed Cassian behind her, still dressed in his night clothes and yet armed to the teeth, clearly having been awoken in a haste. Rhys took a step back, there was too much power, too much energy, in the room already, provoking Nesta would surely lead them all to their sudden deaths.
Then there was Feyre, walking into the room behind her sister, quiet but observant, the perfect High Lady. She seemed to assess everything around her. The tautness of her husband’s stature, the silent flood of emotions that seemed to be rippling from her spymaster, Elain’s shallow breaths and bloodied night gown. After a moment of quiet assessment, she moved forth to the stoic and emotionless figure of her shadowsinger.
“Azriel,” Rhys recognised Feyre’s tone as she approached his brother, it was the tone she used with Nyx, motherly and soft. Azriel pulled his eyes from Elain to look at Feyre vacantly. “It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay…but I need you to let me take her.” Azriel’s mouth contorted in pain as he pulled Elain slighter closer to his chest.
“I know,” Feyre whispered, dropping to her knees next to him, not caring that her own silken nightgown was turning splotchy and red. “I know it’s hard but everything’s going to be okay. She’s my sister, and I as your High Lady will not let anything harm her.” There’s no need, Azriel thought bitterly as he looked down at Elain’s deathly pale skin, her abuser is here, right in front of you. The only harm you need protect her from, is me.
But he didn’t say any of that out loud, he wasn’t even sure his voice would work for him in that moment. Azriel didn’t quite hand Elain over to Feyre, rather he just let his arms go limp around her, and Feyre was able to scoop her sister out of his arms as though they were passing Nyx from one another. Every instinct Azriel had was screaming at him to take Elain back, to at least look at her unconscious form in Feyre’s arms as they moved away from him, but he kept his eyes on the floor, now kneeling to only the pools of Elain’s blood.
Voices began to erupt around him in hushes whispers, he could distantly hear Rhysand guiding his subjects through the plan, explaining to them what had happened whilst withholding the reason why. It was all numb to him as he continued to float under that black wave, sinking deeper and deeper, their voices were above the surface and so they just sounded warbled and strange.
But one movement did catch Azriel’s eye. It cut through the room’s silent chaos like a knife, a figure appearing at the ruined doorway that caught Azriel’s attention the same way an earthquake would. It was him.
Lucien.
“What happened?” Lucien growled out and something roared in Azriel. He knew that tone of voice, could smell the mate-tarnished anger that was rolling out of him. That animalistic claim on the woman Azriel had nearly lost himself in only moments ago. That’s why he was here, because he would’ve felt the energy down the bond, because even though he was at the other end of Prythian with his own family, he had that claim. 
“She’s okay,” Feyre breathed softly as she lifted her sister up into her arms, “Her cuts are already healing, it looks worse than it is. She’s just had a vision so it might take a while for her to come around.” Feyre’s voice was so like her husband’s, even and balanced, reassuring everyone in the room that everything was okay, even if that were not necessarily true.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
Azriel didn’t want to hate Lucien, even now he could see that the Autumn son was grappling with the bond that was no doubt screaming at him to rip his mate from Feyre’s arms and winnow them both to the other side of the continent. Azriel knew, because he felt it too. Like Elain he didn’t really hate Lucien, he hated the bond, hated what it told him about himself, clear as day, that he wasn’t worthy of Elain. And though some part of him already assumed just as much, no one was so self-deprecating to not at least hold of a sliver of hope in the face of such agony.
“She’s fine,” Nesta snarled at Lucien, one hand on Feyre’s shoulder, the other on Elain’s pale and bloodied forehead as she guided her sisters towards to mutilated door frame. They were right to take their sister away from the scene, God knew that no one there could help Elain now.
And so Elain disappeared around the corner, and Azriel slowly brought himself off the floor, trying to ignore the sight of his marred hands, covered in her blood.
What...even...Cassian’s voice swam into Rhys mind, dripping in confusion and concern. Did you and Az have a fight?
Rhys put off audibly groaning. Whenever he and Az fought it was normally not difficult to keep Cassian oblivious, he didn’t always pick up and stuff like that and sometimes it was just easier to deal with debates behind closed doors. Not to treat Cassian as his and Az’s overgrown child, it was just that Cassian was never meant to be a mediator.
It’s complicated, Rhys reported back keeping his voice level and calm - his High Lord voice.
I’ll let you off for tonight but, Rhys, you have to let me help you. Especially when it comes to Az. He was right of course, just like Azriel had been.
Deal, Rhys shot back, for tonight I need eyes on Az, I don’t care if he pushes you away I need someone with him at all times, at least until Elain comes around. We’ll re-group then. Cassian didn’t respond besides the smallest of nods. He stayed where he was, more awake now with his eyes trained on their other brother, and Rhys knew Cassian wouldn’t take his eyes off him for the foreseeable future.
Rhysand couldn’t help but sigh, it’s not as though Azriel or Lucien were aware of him to notice. This was a mess. Worse than a mess, it was a catastrophe. Everything Azriel had said was right but, he had broken his order, he had defied rank in a way he’d never done before and that squeezed something deep in Rhysand’s gut. Above all he needed to be able to trust his friends, so that when push came to shove he’d be able to make the tough decisions and his friends would let him go into the belly of the beast. But tonight, that had changed. Everything had changed.
And Elain, Elain who he had nearly called by his sisters name, she’d stood up for herself tonight. And then there was the situation of her powers, savage and rippling out of her like a beast. He had tasted those powers when they’d tore out of her, and they were ancient. The same power that was interwoven in the very fields of the earth, concentrated in the form of the sweetest girl of all. Rhys knew at least a thousand fae who would pay a hefty price to possess Elain, a hundred who might be willing to go to war - and then there were the Fae who would claw for her hand, the noblemen who would see her for her potential offspring. Rhysand physically shuddered as he sent his wings away.
Yes, tonight had been a catastrophe all right.
Rhysand looked away from Cassian’s half-hidden grimace and turned to the two males standing off, the blood of the woman they were unspokenly fighting over still pooling across the hardwood floors. Lucien glaring with restrained anger at Azriel, his masculine mating bond clogging up the air, whilst Azriel wore an impenetrable mask, hiding the bottomless torment and agony that was no doubt running rife in the shadowsinger, as he stared at the weeping puddle of Elain’s blood.
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inglourious-imagines · 4 years ago
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You And Only You (George Weasley x Fem!Reader)
Summary: George's asleep after he lost his ear and reader runs her fingers through his hair, not aware of the fact that George isn't sleeping anymore.
Author's Note: I've been going through some writers block recently so that's why this kinda sucks but this idea's been circling in my head and i simply had to write it down. Requests are open ♡
HP Taglist: @alienoresimagines @95swifi
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"Any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again." - Homer, The Iliad
Y/N's trembling fingers ran through his dirty hair softly as if she was afraid she might break him. George's eyelashes fluttered every time he breathed out. He seemed as if he unconsciously relaxed with her tender touch as she was brushing all the pain and suffering out of his red locks. 
"Y/N..." George mumbled out of his sleep. Her lips curled into a soft smile and a single tear rolled down her cheek. 
"How are you feeling, dear?" she whispered as she sat down on the ground right next to George's head. He was still asleep and Y/N didn't have the heart to wake him up just to make sure he's doing fine when he obviously was - his cheeks were finally gaining some colour again, the bleeding already stopped and his breathing was steady as well. It was like a thousands of heavy stones fell off of her heart leaving her not so stressed as before. George was here with her and he was going to be fine again.
"You scared me so much today, Weasley," Y/N tried to alleviate the situation but she knew she's at the verge of tears, "I thought I lost you." The young witch had to stop for a moment to take a few deep breaths to calm herself down a bit.
"I know we've been together only for two months now," Y/N proceeded, "but you became such an important part of my life. I've never felt happier in my life than when I'm with you, Georgie."
Y/N silenced herself for a brief moment. She admire the man in front of her, enjoying his calming presence as she kept on running her fingers through his red hair.
•••
"Y/N, wake up." Fred's soft voice disturbed her sleep, his hand slightly touching her shoulder. "Go to bed, I'll take it from here."
She sleepily looked around trying to orientate herself - she must have fallen asleep on the ground with her head resting on George's chest and her one hand still tangled in his hair.
Y/N hesitated for a moment but gave in eventually, she knew she needed a proper sleep. "Thanks, Fred. Wake me up if anything, even the most irrelevant thing, happens." she sent him a tired smile, kissed George's forehead gently and stumbled out of the room. 
•••
Y/N had never felt so scared in her entire life like she did that night when Harry brought her bleeding boyfriend in the Burrow. But the fear made her realise so many things, it gave her probably too much to think about. Y/N always knew she liked George very much, they were two young people freshly in love still discovering the emotion, but what she did not know was that she felt so strongly about the red-head. Maybe it was too early to state something like this but-
"Thinkin' about me, huh?" his familiar voice brought her back from her daydreaming as she was met with his typical grin. 
"Always the charmer, right?" Y/N laughed but her pounding heart told her that this man knew her probably better than she even knew herself. 
"Only for you, Y/N," George's eyes suddenly softened, "did you really mean it?"
"Meant what? What's going on, Georgie?"
"What you said last night."
Now she was definitely certain he can hear her fast heartbeat. 
"Every single word." Y/N whispered, her eyes focused only on his approaching figure. 
"That's good to know, baby, 'cause I've never wanted anything more than to be with you."
"Oh yeah?"
"Oh yeah."
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