#river rejuvenation

[water-conservation]

[insightfultake]

Reviving the Yamuna: A Political and Environmental Imperative

The Yamuna River, a lifeline for millions in Delhi and neighboring states, has long suffered from severe pollution, unchecked sewage discharge, and industrial effluents. Successive governments have made grand promises, yet the river continues to be one of the most polluted in the country. Now, the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP)-led government has unveiled a massive initiative to rejuvenate the river, seeking assistance from the central government to fund and execute critical projects aimed at restoring its health. With an estimated ₹9,000 crore set aside for overhauling water and sanitation systems, the Yamuna cleanup has become a high-stakes political and environmental issue.

[calico-strawberry]

I'm gonna hold off on talking about it too much until I'm close to completing 13.5, but just know I am having. Many thoughts of AF Aevia :3

[queerhummingbird]

Spent some time this weekend gardening and taking a nap under a big tree and eating fresh vegetables from my uncle's garden and singing songs with my cousins and reading the newspaper with my grandfather and i think all that is how life's supposed to be

[roomselfcontain2]

Low budget single 1 room affordable self-contained apartment for rent near me cool rooms contemporary accomodation that I can afford right here at Rumuosi new layout in port Harcourt city rivers state Nigeria.

[lilislegacy]

something i feel like we don’t talk about nearly enough is the fact that percy is healed by water.

it’s so normal to us because it’s one of the first abilities we discovered he has. and it makes complete sense. but like… he’s the only demigod with that ability. jason doesn’t get healed by a gust of wind. hazel doesn’t get healed if she touches a diamond. nico doesn’t get healed if a skeleton gives him a hug. annabeth doesn’t get healed if she walks into a library.

like percy could be stabbed in the chest multiple times, he could break every bone in his body, he could be slammed in the head resulting in a crushed skull and hemorrhaging, but get him to some water fast enough and not only is he good as new in no time, but he’s stronger and freshly rejuvenated.

it’s insane when you think about it. no one else can do that. do you know how hard it is to kill percy? even if he’s not near the ocean, he can be healed by rivers and lakes and streams and ponds and all sorts of water sources. water recharges him. it makes him immediately stronger.

that’s a huge reason why i argue percy is the most powerful demigod. yes, he’s shown he has incredible super strength and super speed. yes, he’s a legendary sword fighter - arguably the best one alive. yes, he has control over air, land, and sea. (deadly hurricanes with heavy winds and thunder and lightning, huge volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, tsunamis, floods, etc.) yes, he’s capable of mass destruction. yes he can single handedly cause natural disasters and mass casualties. and yes, he’s capable of controlling people’s bodily fluids, including their blood and saliva. he is terrifying

but even if someone manages to beat him, he dips one toe in some water and he’s immediately healed and even stronger than before. whether the injury is internal or external. he’s healed all on his own. no ambrosia or nectar or external remedies necessary.

guys. percy is insane. he’s way overpowered.

and i love it.

[buckyschair]

AFTERGLOW

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: A sequel part to Flirting, which follows our dear reader (an archivist from Day Court) and the events post-hook-up with Azriel. Don’t worry, his busybody family could never be too sidetracked with running their court to prevent them getting involved in his love life– and, thanks to the properties of transference, yours! Have you stumbled upon something real here with him? Or will it be over before it’s begun? Only Azriel’s shadowy attachment style and maladaptive coping mechanisms will tell! Spoiler: the sex is good. 

read part one on tumblr here

A/N: From the bottom of my heart, what the fuck was I doing when I started writing this fic in the second person present tense. Copy editing this was a nightmare. I am completely demoralized. The only thing that can cure me? Your comments and kudos, baby! 

Content Warnings: porn with plot, kinda switches between your POVS, female reader, Rhys and Cass and Mor being dickheads (affectionate), smut (featuring aftercare <3), mutual masturbation, thigh riding, unprotected PIV sex, explicit language, alcohol, yearning, idiots to lovers, no use of Y/N

Disclaimers: 1. I’m woman enough to admit that I don’t know how the magic system works in this universe. Who has what powers? None of my business. Yet, somehow, this same author spent an hour researching exactly how people with penises like to masturbate. And that’s showbiz, baby! 2. It’s also not my business where these people live. I haven’t read ACOSF yet so I have no idea where they’re all supposed live so just pretend Az has his own place and they all share a house too idk the river house is new and confusing to me kthxbyeeee

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~14k 

Read on AO3

It’s surprisingly domestic, how the morning unfolds in a post-coital haze, breathy moans lapsing into quiet conversation about pillow preferences and the day's looming demands. You’re seriously so glad you went dancing last night, especially since your fun solo night out was cut short in favor of mind blowing sex with Azriel. The male lies beside you, your body tucked into his arm on his massive bed, the pair of you lingering after another round of bliss. You’re reluctant to emerge from your shared cocoon, but you know you can’t stay forever. 

“I don’t know about you, but this is my ideal morning,” Azriel comments lazily.

You murmur something noncommittal. 

He raises himself up on one arm to look at you, affronted. You see the disbelief in his poised face, his quiet accusation: How could it get better than this? It’s sharp enough to uncover your grin as you answer: 

“A bath?” you propose.

Azriel presses a kiss to your temple before grumbling his way out from under the covers. 

“Anything for my esteemed guest,” he says sarcastically.

“I’m so honored,” you say, eyes rolling behind his back as he disappears into the washroom. 

“I saw that!” he calls from inside.

You give him a rude gesture from your place under his sheets, and you hear his chuckle echoing through the open doorway as he draws you a bath. Even his laughter sounds like a whispered secret. You treasure the sound, storing it away in your memory. 

You’re half hoping he’ll join you in the bath, but he leaves you to wash alone once you finally emerge from his bed. Water sluices across your form as you cleanse yourself of the hard earned sweat and stain. While the stickiness washes away, the warmth of your experience remains; an invisible mark at odds with the pale bruises blooming on your chest and thighs. His soap smells of citrus and cedar, a salty scrub that rejuvenates your flesh and invigorates your senses. It was the scent you’d caught in his pillows as you’d been pressed into them this morning. You wipe the images from your mind, clearing your head with some effort. 

When you emerge from your much needed bath, wrapped in a towel, you find your things laid out neatly for you atop his fresh sheets. You pick up an oversized shirt included in the pile. Your brow arches in silent question towards the male currently fussing with dirty sheets. Thankfully, he’s donned some undershorts, so you could expect to keep it together for at least a full conversation. 

“I couldn’t find your shirt,” Azriel confesses, apologetic. He tells you that he looked all over his room while you were bathing, to no avail. 

“Aren’t you a spy? I can’t believe you couldn't track it down,” you laugh as you slip into his tunic. It smells clean, and you’re a little put out that it doesn’t have his aroma. He throws a pillow at you, and you barely catch it before it smacks you in the face. His pout only makes you laugh harder. 

He apologizes again about your top, but as you slip your skirt back on, you remind him that you weren’t protesting last night when he threw it gods know where. His ears burn as he imagines it falling out the window, landing somewhere in the city below, perhaps much to some stranger’s confusion. 

“Not that it would be out of character for this place, with Rhys and Feyre being the way they are,” he concludes, cracking you up again. 

You come to stand before him, in your odd new outfit, short tight skirt and long baggy shirt. Now that you’re dressed, you aren’t sure of what comes next. So far, he’s directed your morning routine, and you’re suddenly dreading the inevitable moment when you have to leave. His eyes are taking you in, and you have no idea how his heart stutters at the sight of you, freshly bathed in his soap and dressed in his clothing. He has half a mind to take you back to bed, if Rhys hadn’t just been in his head reminding him of their upcoming morning appointment. 

Before you can ask him what the plan is, your stomach growls loudly, demanding. 

You curse your traitorous stomach as you walk through the grand halls alone in search of a meal, disoriented since he’d kissed your temple again right after dispatching you to the kitchen. He’d offered to get the two of you food, but you told him he should bathe first. Truth be told, you just needed a moment to get your bearings. This morning was far more normal than you were expecting, and it unnerved you how easily you’d fallen into a mock domestic routine with the warrior. 

Soon enough, you find a well stocked kitchen, exactly where Azriel had explained it would be. You shouldn’t be surprised that his directions were so clear, given the male’s strategic mind. 

You do find yourself surprised, however, that he’s allowing you to wander unchaperoned and barefoot through his court’s inner dwelling. The thought had warmth blooming in your chest as you set water to boil on the stove before looking around for some proper kind of tea. 

Before you know it, you’ve lost yourself to snooping through the full cabinets, inspecting jars and baskets of dry goods as you assemble your small feast. As an archivist, you can’t help admiring neat collections of any kind. You’re as endlessly fascinated with the contents of cabinets as you are with stacks of manuscripts. 

The distraction is why you don’t notice the approaching footsteps until a sarcastic voice calls you out of your reverie. 

“Az? Is that you?” 

You freeze your snacking at the unfamiliar male voice in the hallway. 

“What the hell, brother. So tell me why you tapped out earlier than anyone last night– without saying goodbye, might I add– and yet you’re the only one late to training this–” the voice cuts off as he finally spots you through the door frame. 

“Oh,” the Illyrian stumbles before quickly recovering, “Hello.” A boyish smile breaks upon his face as he takes in your state, dressed in his brother’s shirt over a skintight skirt. 

“You’re not Azriel,” he observes keenly. 

He offers you a wide grin, which you return sheepishly at first but then with real humor. 

“No, I’m not,” you laugh, realizing this must be Cassian. You introduce yourself briefly before adding, “He’ll probably be late this morning.”

“I bet he will be,” Cassian quips, but before he can question you further, you excuse yourself with your tea while it's still hot. 

“It’s nice to meet you!” he calls after you, your name ringing down the corridor. 

Cassian shakes his head once you leave, speechless for a moment before he contacts Rhys. You won’t believe this! he projects excitedly, thrilled to have some gossip on his brooding brother for once. 

You can’t hide your giddy blush when you return to Azriel’s room to eat. He takes the tea with quiet thanks, laughing at the mischief you’d gotten up to in his absence, and even more so at your impression of Cassian. His chest warms at your brief brush with his family. You enjoy a peaceful meal sitting in his chair by the window while he tidies his already very clean room, noting how fastidious he is in his motions as he dresses and styles his hair for the day. 

Once he’s run out of ways to drag out his morning routine, he turns to you with a serious but soft expression. 

“Can I see you again?” Azriel asks. If all logic didn’t defy it, you’d say he sounds nervous. “Perhaps on a real date?” 

“A date?” you ask coyly. You don’t bother to hide your smug delight at his words, feeling like you’ve just won a prize. “Yeah, I think I’d like that. A lot.” 

His resulting smile is so bright– for a second it transports you back to the grand archival library in Day court, where you’d soak up the blinding noon light that would stream in through the tall arched windows. You could always rely on its warmth for a reprieve from your dusty, tedious tasks. You imagine Az must feel similarly in this moment for his shadowy expression to break with such radiance. 

It calms your sorrow at leaving the brilliant palace, confident that you might very well see it again soon. You enjoy this flight more, as he carefully maneuvers through the city’s sky, the journey less disorienting in the daylight. He leaves you on the steps of your accommodations near the library with a lingering kiss and a promise to see you again the next night. 

Once he leaves, your mind goes into overdrive, cataloguing all that had occurred and trying to figure out what exactly drew you together. If there was any sort of common thread, it was invisible, but you felt its undeniable pull all the same. 

You’d have to do some further research, you decide, on Illyrians, and on shadowsingers. And perhaps on sex positions with winged fae. And maybe you should buy a new going out top… though you certainly wouldn’t be returning this new one anytime soon, you think, smoothing Azriel’s shirt down as you step inside your little place. 

You happily plan your list of tasks and activities, unaware of the shadows that slip inside after you, ready to report back to their master, who is equally anticipating your next meeting, even as he arrives unforgivably late to training, only to face the torment of his nosy family. 

Azriel bears their prying questions and bold threats with characteristic stoicism, cracking only to say that they’d better play nice, offering scalding threats of his own lest they scare you off. Deep down, he thinks with pride that you could probably actually handle them in their full chaos.   

After all, he’d felt something shake loose in his chest this morning as he’d laid watching your sleeping form. He recalls how he’d felt last night, when you were backlit and glowing above him. The magnetism that had sparked, a gravity he stepped into fearlessly when in battle, that now gave him pause. Later, when he had a moment, he would examine it more intently, but even at this glance, he felt it strongly.

He swallows his smile as he falls into the motions of sparring with Rhys, feeling that familiar thrill. He’s found a real contender in you, he should have known it from the moment he saw you squaring up back at the club. Azriel can’t wait to see things through with you. 

Hours later, recalling that excitement feels like mockery, as he ponders what one possibly does for a first– second?– date. He curses himself for having such a premature reaction, rather than applying a more rational process to the situation. He’d met you once. He told himself he hardly knew you.

But even as he had that thought, he brought to mind all he’d absorbed about you. Your life in Day, your dedication to your people, your reverence for things of antiquity. His mind wandered to your shared experience, how he’d seen you come alive and undone under his touch. Your small reactions, your fixation on his wings, your quickness to humor. He couldn’t convince himself that he didn’t know you at all. Still, surely many fae knew you better than he could, after just one night. 

The thought fills him with an ugly emotion; he didn’t like that someone else might know you better than he. Azriel scolds himself for his juvenile envy. He hadn’t earned special intimacy with you. Yet , he amends. 

He is a master of spies, and foremost of a scarce population who could wield shadows as easily as any blade, and the trusted right hand of the most formidable High Lord in history. Even in his own right, he is one of the most powerful Illyrians in existence, he reminds himself as he sets to the task of planning your date. 

Azriel is determined to show you a good time. He thinks back to how organic, how right your brief time together at Rita’s had felt. 

How badly could this go? 

✸✸✸ 

“You’re an idiot. I knew you were an asshole, but honestly Az, I hadn’t pegged you as an idiot,” Cassian scoffs, his raven locks shaking derisively. “I don’t know why I expected better.”  

Azriel just glares at him. He should have known it was a mistake to come to Cassian for advice. 

He looks to Rhys, hoping to find more level headed counsel. The three of them were cooling down from their morning sparring the night after his much anticipated date with you, ransacking the kitchen to refuel. Unfortunately, Rhys’ expression isn’t encouraging, the High Lord barely concealing his amusement. 

Azriel sighs, supplicating the ceiling for better guidance. He knows that their strenuous exercises aren’t solely to blame for the distant throbbing in his skull. 

“Quit it with the hysterics,” Rhys teases. 

Azriel levels him with a stare, his shoulders tense and his shadows in pandemonium. 

Rhys sighs, relenting, “So, you were saying you took her out to dinner?” he prompts diplomatically. 

Azriel nods. He had picked you up about an hour after you’d gotten out of work for the day. You’d been elegantly arrayed, but still casual, since you weren’t sure what he had planned. Your wide smile upon seeing him had left him winded as you’d taken in his generous physique. He’d been drinking you in too, and the sight of those same chunky boots on your feet had had him smirking. 

You’d playfully bared your teeth as you laid your hand on his waiting arm. “See something you like, soldier?” you’d teased. 

“Very much so,” he’d responded honestly. 

His candor had struck you off balance with more punch than any sweet talk or sass could have packed. His eyes held the same intensity that they’d burned with the other night; the same intensity that you’d started to doubt in your memory, thinking you must have imagined it in your blissed out daze. 

“You clean up nice, too,” you’d recovered. 

He’d mirrored your blush then, his red dusted cheeks relaxing you as he’d guided the two of you along the Sidra into the center of town. 

The restaurant had been nice, not too nice, but comfortable and intimate. You’d been thrilled with the menu, the seafood more exotic and the spices more daring than what you told him you were used to back in Day. Perhaps he should have commented more of his own thoughts, but he was so satisfied just to listen to your chatter. 

“Dinner was good,” Azriel shares.

Rhys and Cassian share a look at that. They were probably holding a conversation mentally on the side, analyzing and strategizing. 

“Well, don’t bore us with the details,” Rhys prompts sarcastically. 

Azriel swallows his retort, reminding himself that these were his brothers. As much as they pissed him off, they were his family, and they wanted the best for him. They wanted him to be happy. 

“What else do you want to know?!” he groans.

“Did you fuck her?” Cassian deadpans. 

Azriel just sputters in response. He is quickly losing faith that his brothers will be any help, if that was the best Cass could do. 

“No!” Azriel balks. 

“What do you mean no!” Rhys shouts, as Cassian curses and shakes his head more, this time hiding his face in his hands. 

“I mean, we… we did sleep together that first night,” Azriel amends, with a meaningful look at Cassian, who stops snickering. “But not last night.” 

“Why the hell not?” Cassian demands. 

“Is that all you can think about?” Az hedges. He honestly didn’t know why you hadn’t slept together again. He had certainly wanted to. Fuck, what he wouldn’t do for another chance to taste you, to take you back to his place– his real place this time, not the House of Wind– get you in his bed and run his hands over your thighs, and up, up, to brush his thumb through your soaking folds– 

“Brother! You’re one to talk, you’re the one going stupid at the thought of her right now!” Cass’s accusation has him cursing and forcing his mind back to this maddening conversation.  

Rhys regards him with a knowing look which does little to comfort him. The two males across the counter share another meaningful glance. Azriel runs his hand through his hair, he was going to lose his mind if they kept up their silent conversation. 

I’m right here, assholes, he projects into their minds down the bridges Rhys had established centuries ago. Typically, they reserved their use for business, but clearly the High Lord and his Commander had no qualms using their privileged mental bridge to serve their busybody purposes. 

Rhys has the decency to cringe, but Cassian dismisses his insult with the ease of one perfectly aware of his gold certified status as an ass. 

“What did you do to her, Az?” Cass scorns. 

“Okay. So dinner was good. That’s a good start,” Rhys interjects, suddenly playing the diplomat again as his brothers’ fists begin to curl. “What did the two of you talk about?” he prompts helplessly. 

“Just… things.” 

Cassian swears again at Azriel’s curt response, and even as his temper flares, Azriel sees how weak his answer is. “Okay! Okay. We… Well, she talked about her life back in Day. I asked her a lot about her work, and how their recovery efforts are progressing.”

Rhys nods, encouraging him.

“And I asked how she felt about the security of Day, since a myriad of threats remain unchecked, after everything, and since they don’t discriminate between courts but could affect any of us-” 

Cassian groans, and Rhys winces. 

“What! She cares about her people, I was trying to be attentive!” Az defends.

“Brother. It sounds like you were doing recon,” Rhys gently explains. 

Az opens his mouth, then closes it.

“You grilled her about the status of her court’s border security,” Cass adds bluntly. 

“I did not… grill her,” Azriel manages. “I just… fuck. Fuck!” he lets out. “Damn it! I was asking her about her interests,” he helplessly repeats. 

Cassian and Rhys just look at him with pity. 

He scowls, accepting that the dinner conversation was perhaps not as free flowing as things had been at Rita’s. Still, he’d have sworn that you’d enjoyed the evening. He looks up at his brothers, desperation written on his face. “What do I do?”

“Did you make plans to see each other again?” Cass asks hesitantly, a rare sign that he’s taking this seriously after all. 

“No,” Azriel admits, “but she did say she’d like to see me again,” he adds, much to his brothers’ relief. 

Rhys claps his hands together, capturing their attention, his shoulders squaring as he assumes his role as their sovereign strategist. “Alright. We can work with that,” he claims. “How do we go from here? What are the facts?”

“First, we have established that Az is an idiot,” Cassian chirps helpfully. 

“Right,” Rhys confirms, and Azriel just rubs his temples. This was just like their young days at the training camp, only without the license to punch Cassian for mouthing off. “What else?” 

“She wants to see him again.” Azriel opens his eyes and flashes a grateful smile at his brother, who ruins the moment by adding suggestively- ”Or at least she wants to see part of him again.” 

Rhys sighs, mentally reaching out to Feyre to tell her that she’ll have to handle their mid-morning appointments solo. Everything okay? she responds. He replies wordlessly with the scene in front of him, his brothers bickering over their breakfast, Cass creating an impressively explicit insult with a chocolate pastry and Az returning in kind. 

By the afternoon though, the three males have come up with a respectable plan to salvage Azriel’s tenuous connection with you. 

✸✸✸ 

You’re surprised when you see a shadow slip along the stacks toward your spot barricaded in a corner of the Night Court’s library, poring over some dense tomes. They’re full of oblique explanations that reference texts that are equally inaccessible, even to you in your expertise. You’d just about decided it was time for a break when you see the shadow approach. 

It curls around your hand in an affectionate welcome. As warmth flares in your chest, a note materializes, a welcomely legible message compared to the books you’d been buried in. You look around, despite the silent and largely empty library. 

No one is present to witness your blush as you lightly stroke the first line. The note is addressed to your name in a neat script. 

I’m writing with regard to my concern that you’ve had too grand an impression of my court , it reads. You can hear Azriel’s wry tone in the clear letters. 

First the high class of Rita’s, then the dizzying heights of Velaris’ fine dining last night. You smile at his dry, self deprecating words. Your heart thunders as you continue reading. 

I’d like to amend this most grievous picture with a far less elegant evening. Would you be available to join me for dinner tonight? Same time, and meet me at my place instead. 

Please respond at your leisure. I would very much like to see you again–

–He’s included an address and signed merely with an initial, a sloping A , that you trace as you mull over his words. 

His place? That last line too, I would very much like to see you again , seems less neat than the rest of his writing, almost hastily scrawled. As if it had been an afterthought. Or as if he’d been nervous to pen it? 

You shake your head at his shadow twirling around your wrist, the messenger seemingly in no rush. You’d been confused after your date with the shadowsinger, and now even more so. He wanted to see you again. 

The date last night hadn’t been bad. You’d certainly had worse experiences. 

He had shown up right on time to pick you up from your doorstep, sweetly admiring you as you’d shakily locked up your place. When you’d caught his hungry gaze, that still novel thrill had shot through you, and you couldn’t help your smile. You’d been excited, and that feeling remained sparkling in your chest as you’d wound your way through the city towards the spot he’d picked out. 

The meal you’d shared had been amazing, you were impressed with the whole affair. Azriel had looked indecently handsome in a soft black tunic and sleek charcoal pants, his siphons simmering ultramarine. You’d noticed he wore heavier leather boots… 

“Nice boots,” you’d complemented with a small smirk. 

“Thank you,” he had spoken sincerely, without marking your innuendo. 

You’d meant it as a small temperature check, delicately referencing your previous frenzied hook up where you’d neglected to take off your shoes for the first couple rounds. 

Either Azriel had missed your meaning, or he was establishing a boundary. You didn’t imagine the spymaster missed much, so you took it as an indication that he didn’t want to explicitly discuss what had happened between you. 

Even that was confusing, since his eyes had still gravitated towards your lips, followed the movements of your throat, and beheld you with a ferocity you couldn’t tear yourself away from. 

You held your tongue, though, about the research you’d done on how to get freaky with a winged individual. Honestly, that was probably for the best, you reflect, given how your sources were anecdotal at best. But damn! You’d done your due diligence, and you were hoping it would come in handy eventually. 

Azriel had been kind to the staff, who did their best to conceal how unnerved they were by his presence. He’d been perfectly well mannered, you’d enjoyed picking his mind about court security and his entertaining stories about his family. Overall, it had felt like your conversation at Rita’s, free flowing and comfortable. You trace the evening in your mind now, finding it more complex than the books you’d been dissecting all morning. 

You were used to speaking your mind, so you had planned to tell him directly that you’d like him to fuck you again, please and thank you . 

And when he hadn’t responded to your lingering touches, or your meaningful looks, you figured it was the same pattern as last time; where his respectful attitude demanded he unleash his passion only slowly and incrementally as the night progressed. After he’d walked you home and you’d told him what a great time you’d had at dinner, you’d even gone so far as to invite him up to your place. 

But he had declined. 

The male who you thought had been undressing you with his eyes the whole way back had dodged your invitation, citing an early morning. You’d been so blindsided that you’d just accepted it. 

Azriel had kissed you then, confusing you more as his hot mouth worked yours in a riveting connection. Then he had simply pulled away, his hazel eyes molten in the dark.  

“I’d like to see you again.” 

You cringe, recalling your words to him as he’d bade you good night. But he had seemed to practically preen at that, his shadows making lazy, arrogant circles around the horns at the apex of his wings. 

So, all things considered, perhaps this note before you shouldn’t be a total surprise. 

You’ll just have to talk directly with him, you reason. And the best way to do that will be to see him in person tonight. You briefly pen your enthusiastic agreement to send off with the shadow before returning to your work, heart a little lighter. 

Azriel smiles as his shadow appears, depositing his note with your neat reply. 

I look forward to seeing you tonight. Should I wear my boots? He laughs, spine tingling at his memory of you and those godsdamned shoes. He makes a note to remember to take them off of you tonight. If he’s so lucky… 

✸✸✸ 

Azriel considers himself luckier than he deserves when you actually show up at his place that evening. You look resplendent, he thinks, starlight dusting your hair. Much to his embarrassment, his shadows swarm you the instant he opens his front door to your confident knock. He silently curses them and wills them to behave. 

“They say hello, as well,” he says after greeting you. 

“Hello to you too, then, you handsome little devils,” you flirt shamelessly with his shadows.

“Don’t encourage them,” Az chides affectionately, watching them as they double back to twirl in your hair and brush along your cheek. “They’re insufferable enough as is.” 

You just laugh at their antics, flattered by their attention. 

Quite frankly, you’re charmed. You couldn’t find any information on shadowsingers in your brief search on the topic. You aren’t sure how they work or how they speak to him, but you do know that you like them. The more you interact with them, you can sense their personality. 

“You look beautiful,” he offers. 

He takes your jacket, manners impeccable as he crisply hangs it on the back of his door.

“Thank you,” you blush, slyly admiring his wings as he’s turned away. “You don’t look half bad yourself.” 

You’re fooling no one. Azriel looks good. Really good. He’s handsome enough to win a best dressed contest naked, but this outfit works for him too. His sleek vest is a deep green, the first hint of color you’ve seen on him. It complements his eyes well, bringing out their gold. You’re enjoying his exposed forearms too, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

You had caught the faint scent of citrus and cedar as you’d brushed past him to step inside. Your body is activated by the scent, recalling how it had lingered on his pillows. Overwhelmed by the pleasant picture, you swallow the memory. 

Before he can catch you checking him out, you catch a mouthwatering aroma. 

“Did you cook?”

His bashful look has your heart melting as he leads you to his kitchen. Indeed, the male had cooked a glorious meal. The dishes themselves aren’t particularly rich fare, but the volume is definitely more than two can pack away. He's gone all out.

As you marvel at his production, it strikes you how surreal this is, how extraordinary. You’re here. In his kitchen. The famed shadowsinger has made you roast fowl from scratch. 

To distract yourself from the absurdity of the picture, you focus on the details. There's herbs tied up in bundles hanging from his shelves. You get a glance inside one cabinet as he grabs a bottle of wine, and, unsurprisingly, their contents are very neat.

“I’m impressed.”

“That’s the general idea,” he winks as he pours you a nice glass.  

This was one step of his preparation for the evening. One key element of a winning battle was the location, situating your forces in the most optimal position. Now, his simple task is to figure out how to build a beautiful, long lasting relationship with a brilliant female out of a fancy goose carcass and herb potatoes. He grits his teeth. The night isn’t nearly over yet. 

You accept the drink with thanks.

“So, this is your place?” 

Azriel just nods. 

“So, did you rent that palace temporarily, or?” you try again. 

“Oh, that was the House of Wind.”

You raise your eyebrows at the lack of explanation. “It sure was windy.”

He catches your question then, “Oh- sorry, yes. It’s essentially our, that is, the court members’, public house-” he launches into the explanation you’d been looking for. 

You’d imagined he would be more comfortable in his own home, but he seems uneasy. The male remains as inscrutable as ever. You hadn’t realized how much you usually rely on nonverbal cues to read people. He is so reserved– by training– and also obscured– literally, by shadows. 

As you chat amiably about the city and its organization and his confusing housing situation, he leads you to his sitting room. You were surprised at your nerves even as you converse easily, typically you weren’t so easily ruffled. Then again, it’s been a while since you’d been so swept up by someone. 

“It’s nice,” you say, looking around the room. 

“Yeah? You like it?”

“Yeah,” you nod. It’s cozier than the palace was, the sweeping views exchanged for a comfortable and surprisingly cheerful atmosphere. The furniture is cushy, but practical, sturdy. 

“I know it’s not much like the palace,” he reads your mind. 

“No, I like that it's cozier. I just don’t know how you fit in the door,” you joke, gesturing vaguely at his scale, between his muscled form and looming wings. He laughs at that, and you banter back and forth about what a pity it is that there’s such a lack of Illyrian sized accommodations. Your shared laughter fades into a silence only broken by the crack of logs burning slowly in his hearth, crumbling voicelessly into embers. 

You let the moment stretch, taking the moment to appreciate the relaxed evening ahead of you, unwinding from your long day at work. 

Azriel, meanwhile, is counting the remaining threads of his sanity on one hand. Give him a fistfight. Give him an enemy regime to infiltrate. But gods save him from making conversation with a female he likes. He thought the relaxed setting would be more casual, but his chest is still tight as he tries to behave normally. Maybe this was a bad idea…

The pleasant silence continues to grate on Azriel, until he crumbles. “We can eat whenever,” he says, breaking the spell. He curses himself for his cowardice, sidestepping whatever was growing in the lingering quiet between you. 

“This is nice, though,” you say into your wine, undeterred. It really is good stuff. You aren’t a sommelier but you know a drinkable vintage when it hits your tongue. 

“Yeah,” he relaxes somewhat into the couch next to you again. 

Hazel eyes meet yours, the fire from the hearth flickering in their reflection. You really are enjoying the peaceful atmosphere with him. His hair is styled a little differently than you remember, the waves flopping in a charming swoop across his forehead rather than brushed back. Your gaze dips to his lips, damp with wine. His pupils expand almost imperceptibly as they track the movement, like prey scenting a threat. 

A loud knock interrupts your mooning. 

Azriel frowns, one of his shadows streaking off to investigate the front door. His scowl deepens before his scout even returns, as the knocking continues, adamant. 

“One moment,” Azriel says reluctantly, with an apologetic look as he stands. You nod, your attention on his tense form, his wings obscuring the door as he whips it open. 

“What are you doing here?” you hear Azriel hiss. 

“Rhys has no good wine left,” Cassian whines as he brushes past Azriel at the door. “Oh, hello again!” he says to you with a winning smile as he emerges from the entryway, somehow edging around the imposing shadowsinger. 

“Hi,” you say quietly, but not weakly, looking to Azriel for your cues. His face is unreadable, a dark storm clouding his features once more. 

“Wait up, you brute!” a female voice speaks, and Azriel’s face darkens further as a stunning female pushes her way in. You recognize her from the bar, she was one of the group Az had pointed out as his family. Mor , her name surfaces in your mind. She was the one who brought them all to Rita’s frequently. 

You could guess why she might prefer that particular spot, as her eyes rake over you. She flicks her hair flirtatiously. 

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she says boldly, extending a hand as you rise from Azriel’s couch, making your way to join them at the front of the room. You tell her your name, and she flashes you a smile, all teeth as she bites her lip. 

“Mor,” she offers. 

“Yes– it’s nice to meet you officially. Azriel has told me a bit about all of you,” you admit. 

“Really?” she says with genuine interest, looking at the shadowsinger curiously. Her mind seems to be working at top speed as she takes in the two of you, him sulking by the open door and you standing comfortably by the entryway to his sitting area, your glass of wine by his couch half empty. 

“Yes, well,” Azriel begins, trying to reel in his invading family, “we were just about to eat, so–”

“Yes, why don’t you join us!” you suggest. You miss Cassian’s shit eating grin and Azriel’s shocked expression as you turn to Mor. 

“We would hate to intrude,” Cassian lies. He’s schooled his face into one of total propriety, a convincing facade only to you. 

“No, it’ll be fun!” you encourage, finally looking to Azriel. 

You feel bad to take charge, but he is giving you no clues. Welcoming his family seems like a safe play. Even if they were crashing your date, you would be lying if you said you weren’t curious to get to know them after the bits and pieces Az has shared. 

Plus, you’d seen the way his eyes had flashed with alarm when you’d glanced at his lips. Maybe he’d be glad of the diversion... 

“If you insist,” Cassian drawls at the same time as Mor asks “What’s that smell?”

You grab her arm cheerfully to lead her into the kitchen, eagerly sharing about the enticing meal Az had prepared. 

Azriel grabs Cassian, holding him hostage in the entryway as the two females disappear into his home. “This was not the plan!” he spits in a furious whisper.

“It wasn’t your plan,” Cassian corrects in his most infuriating tone: superiority. 

Azriel just growls at him as they move inside, shooting him a look that says Don’t fuck this up for me . 

Cassian’s silent reply comes with mock innocence, Who, me?  

Azriel’s lethal retort is snuffed out as he registers your laugh from around the corner. “Be nice!” is all Az manages before he steps into the kitchen to investigate what potentially devastating story Mor is telling to make you laugh like that. Why did Cassian think that he needed babysitting? 

His anger bluffs as he takes in your red face, your grinning laughter directed at him. He can’t bring himself to feel upset when you’re giggling like a fool in his kitchen.  

“Did you really steal this wine from Amren on a dare?” you wheeze gleefully, hefting the open bottle with newfound interest. 

He mirrors your grin, “What kind of spy would I be if I admitted to it?”

You and Mor squeal at his response, she starts yelling at him that Of course he did it, he could never back down from a dare , and Cassian is laughing now too, butting in to tell you his side of the story, to explain his most elegantly devised dare, as Mor slaps his chest and reminds him about the many shots that had contributed to its flawed design. Azriel takes in the scene, so chaotic and so not what he had planned. You catch his eye from across the small room, your eyes shining with mirth. 

You seem perfectly at home, pouring two extra glasses of wine for your unexpected guests. He shakes his head affectionately, surrendering to the new program for the evening. 

As he sets the table for you and his family, he tries to remember why he was so angry just moments ago. That fire has faded to warmth, calm radiating from his chest at the familiar scene before him. 

Cassian seats himself first, and then Mor insists on sitting next to you, so Azriel ends up facing you across the table. You give him a small smile, a brief look meant just for him, as his brother piles food onto his plate with gusto. You see Azriel swallow his annoyance, his face betraying that he’d cooked those fucking rosemary potatoes for you, not Cass. They’re passed to you next, and you see him relax as you dish yourself a generous portion. As the dishes rotate, the smell of the simple feast nears heavenly. 

The chatter pitches higher too, Cassian asking you about Day and Mor describing the miracle that must have resulted in Azriel’s culinary art. Question after question is posed to you, apparently they find you as fascinating as you find them. 

This is nothing like you’d pictured, you think, as insults and compliments are exchanged around you. And you had pictured it, what meeting Azriel’s family would be like. What else were you supposed to do with yourself last night, having been declined sex after a nice date? 

It had been a clunky vision, more so based on your experiences with the formal dinners you’d attended for work than with meeting a partner’s friends and family. 

You’d struggled to picture how you could possibly connect with his inner circle, elite as they were. The daydream had been promptly abandoned after you’d failed to conjure anything remotely pleasant. Azriel was always charming as ever in the imagined scenarios, but you’d not factored in the wholly unpretentious warmth he has with his closest friends. 

You see that tenderness now as he rolls his eyes at the two imposing faeries, the pair of them representing a significant part of his family. A memory flashes in your mind at the sight, a memory of tenderness when he’d been admiring you in bed that morning a handful of days ago. But they'd all known each other for centuries. You’d known him for a handful of days. Was it foolish of you to dream that you’d earn a place in his world? You thought of the small case of belongings you’d brought with you from Day. Suddenly, it felt paltry, lacking, especially as you pictured your friends and work back at home. 

But who cares if your presence here is inconsequential in the long run? It matters to you that you are here now, and you’re pretty sure it matters to Azriel. You reaffix your smile, deciding to enjoy the moment you’re in. 

“Azriel is a total ladykiller,” Mor cackles, and you regret having zoned out during this particular story. Azriel snorts at her words, but you blush at their partial truth. 

“Yeah,” Cassian catches your attention by speaking your name in a questioning tone, “Can you fight?” 

“Only verbally,” you confess, a little nervous to admit it to your current company of seasoned warriors. 

Cassian grunts in acknowledgement, nonjudgmental. He narrows his eyes, humor dissipating as he assesses you. “We can work with that,” he decides, suddenly sounding serious. “I can teach you the basics, but Azriel might want to show you the more advanced maneuvers himself,” he says with a wink. 

Azriel blushes and glares at the innuendo, while Mor laughs around her bite. Yet the depth behind Cassian’s proposal strikes you. His offer assumes that you’ll be sticking around. 

“I’d like that,” you accept, smiling at the general next to you. 

Azriel feels his chest go weightless at your words, like he’s soaring high above the atmosphere. He flashes his brother a grateful look before clearing his throat. 

“Don’t go easy on her, Cass. She’s lying,” Azriel warns, with a mischievous glance at you. Your shadowsinger has certainly lost whatever hesitation he had earlier, his bold words matching his newfound audacity. “She was totally squaring up with some dipshit at Rita’s before I intervened.” 

You gape at him as Cass and Mor squawk. The two of them launch into an intense interrogation, demanding the full story. 

As you recall the evening in question, you feel yourself precariously close to an embarrassing blush. The mortal blow comes when Azriel laughs, the sound noon-bright and ringing, buzzing loud as gossip.   

Eventually, after several more glasses of wine, with empty plates to match, Azriel disentangles you from Mor and Cassian’s endless chatter. You’re reluctant to see your new friends leave, and the amused male only successfully ushers them out after you make Cassian swear to keep his promise to teach you to fight. Content, you wish everyone a good night and thank them for their warm welcome to the Night Court. 

Once the door closes, Azriel heaves out a good natured sigh. 

“What were you and Mor whispering about just now?” you pry, still giddy in the wake of your departed company. You liked them a lot, and you like who Azriel became around them, as laid-back as a seasoned spy could be. 

“She was telling me how my head might end up on a pike if I don’t watch myself,” he responds drily, and you notice him rub his temple harshly with a knuckle. 

“I’m so sorry,” you blurt out.

His brows furrow, “Why?” 

“I totally invited them to stay when it wasn’t my place,” you explain, shaking your head in regret. “Did I totally ruin our date?” 

“Well I ruined the last one,” he says with humor, “so it was your turn.”

“What? No you didn't!” you defend him. 

You’re shocked by his candid words. The date had been a bit awkward at the end, but it wasn’t a disaster in your eyes. 

“Yes, I did.”

“What do you mean?” you search as you walk back into the kitchen to start cleaning up, “Like how we didn’t have sex?” Azriel chokes, his humor vanishing as you continue, “I was going to ask about that, but I figured it was a topic we should address privately.”

“Thank you for that small mercy,” he recovers. His shadows betray his agitation, floating jerkily around his shoulders in a confused dance. 

You realize with a start that he’s nervous. The war hardened fighter is unnerved by a conversation about sex. 

You’d really meant to ask earlier, but it wasn’t going to happen in front of Cass and Mor. The conversation at dinner had been enthusiastic and expansive, lighthearted at every turn. You’d assumed its levity was due to the fact that you were new, unfamiliar company. Now, seeing Azriel fight demons to self-reflect, you wonder if he ever really opens up to anyone, even his closest family members. 

In all fairness, you aren’t exactly thrilled to talk about it either. You're nervous too, painfully aware that there’s an obvious explanation as to why he didn’t sleep with you again. 

 The male sighs again at your inquisitive look, his hands scrubbing over his face like he can wipe away his confusion. His brows furrow. “I honestly don’t know why we didn’t,” he says quietly. 

You’re surprised at his answer. You’d expected more substance. 

“I wanted to, you know,” you admit, pride be damned. If you were going out, you wanted to leave all your cards on the table. 

“Really?” He mirrors your surprise. “I did too. I wanted you so badly, it scared me.” 

You look at the battle scarred warrior, unimpressed. Even slouching, which he never did, he would still stand at least a good head above you. 

You ask with disbelief, “ I scared you ?”

“Well… not exactly like that,” he explains, and he reaches out carefully to grasp your hand in his large palm. “I guess I was being… cautious. I wanted to be respectful.” 

His words shatter something fledgling in your heart. That was practically code for I’m trying to be nice, I don’t want to lead you on .  

“Oh.” You drop his hand, bracing yourself for the dreaded sting of rejection. 

As he sees your expression harden, Azriel curses himself inwardly. This isn’t going the way he’d strategized it at all. His forehead creases as he desperately tries to remember the points he and his brothers had mapped out to help him with this exact conversation. Maybe Cassian was right to spare him from being alone with you, if he’s fucked it up this quickly. 

Azriel thinks back to the previous night, when he had declined your invitation to come upstairs. He’d seen the chill on your face, a chill from his own closed door. You hadn’t pushed his boundaries. Rhys had pointed out to him that from his behavior, you probably couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Hell, even from inside his own head, Azriel was struggling to work out his thoughts. 

The gravity of his attraction to you is concerning. It was a dangerous thing, the weight of it as great and terrible as a sword in his hands. 

He wants your affection, he realizes. The trouble is: asking the spymaster to share his innermost secrets is like asking a busybody to keep just one. It went against his nature. 

He pictures you as you were when he first saw you, gearing up for a fight at Rita’s. You’d been fearsome as ever, confronting the challenge rather than running. He wills himself the same bravery. He is a fearsome warrior, he absolutely refuses to allow mere emotion to make him a coward. 

“I need you to understand something,” Azriel breathes, his wings tight as his expression. “I can’t do this if it’s just sex.” 

You set down a dish heavily, your once sun-soaked heart breaking. 

“If you, uh, don’t want this, that’s, that’s fine. I respect that,” you affirm, even as you’re reeling.

But then Azriel is shaking his head and wiping under your eyes, which you belatedly realize with embarrassment must mean that you’re crying. He’s trying to tell you how he feels and you’re crying on him. Gods! Get it together! you berate yourself. 

“No, no, no. Angel, look at me,” Azriel panics. You meet his gaze, and you see a tenderness there, as ripe and sweet as the summer plums you used to pick with your mother as a child. “Shit, I’m doing this all wrong,” he curses. 

“I can’t do casual,” he confesses, head still shaking, eyes gone glossy. 

“That’s okay, I get it if you don’t want this–”

“No! No, you don’t get it,” he interrupts, swearing and speaking your name with exasperated affection. “I do want this. I want you .”

You gasp, teeth kissing the air as he continues. 

“I want you. You said it wasn’t your place to invite them to stay tonight, but I want it to be your place. Fuck, I want to see you every day. I want to come home to you, and to know you’re waiting for me when I’m gone. And some days I want to wait for you too, and get jealous of the books you spend your time with.”  

You try to say something clever like What the fuck? or Huh? but you’re too shocked to do much more than stare open mouthed as he lays out his emotions for you. At least you’ve stopped crying. 

Azriel is looking at you as if you were personally responsible for every ounce of goodness he’s ever witnessed. It scares the shit out of you. How could he say all that? He doesn’t even know you. It doesn’t help that three seconds ago you thought he was going to kick you out. 

“Why me?” you finally manage. 

“I’ve never felt this way before,” he says, unblinking. 

In a total inversion of all Azriel had ever known, he felt an overwhelming impulse to bare his soul to you. You’d never been scared of him, even when he’d put on his most frightening persona at the bar. You’d taken his identity in stride, you’d even used it to flirt. 

He wants you to know him, he realizes. All of him. Even the darkest parts, the cruel, mean pieces with which he wouldn’t want to burden anyone but himself. For some unknown reason, at this moment, he can think of no greater honor than your involvement in his world, his reality, ugly as it may be. He hopes you’ll want it. 

He takes your hand and places it on his heart, gripping it over his chest. When he speaks, his voice is ragged, tender and raw. 

“You must know. You burn me,” Azriel confesses. “Surely you feel how you burn me.” 

What you feel is your heart in your throat, pulsing erratically at his words. The naked truth on his face frightens you. 

Your free hand reaches out to caress his high cheekbone as your mind whirls. His eyes close at the contact, his lips parted in silent prayer. 

“I feel it too.”

When your thumb brushes the edge of his bottom lip, those hazel eyes flutter open again. The energy between you is thicker than it was moments ago, something fresh set smoldering in his gaze. His chest heaves under your other palm. 

“You do?” he gasps, and you nod, words failing under the enormity of your emotion. 

He’s equally choked up, so he opts for actions instead, pulling you against him to capture your lips in a messy kiss. It’s all wine-breath and teeth, but it’s perfect. 

Your uncontrollable smile forces you to break away, and when you do he’s smiling at you just the same. His joy is infectious. For a long moment, you just smile at each other like fools, breathing each other's air in the sacred ambiance of the dim kitchen light. You linger in the quiet awe in the wake of your confessions.

When your mouths reconnect, the kiss turns feverish. It’s insatiable, your desire for him, as you suck his tongue, earning a satisfying whine from the hulking Illyrian. 

“Shit,” he groans as he lifts you.

You gasp as your weight shifts off your feet, and he sets you against his counter before reconnecting your panting mouths.  The insufferable Illyrian pushes one of his thighs between your legs, capturing your muffled groans with his warm mouth, tonguing away your soft cries. 

“Make me yours,” you whisper.

“Shit, baby, I think I’d do anything you ask if you say it just like that,” he whines against your mouth. 

He pulls away, standing between your legs like it's a place of special honor. 

“Bedroom?” he begs, shining with unchecked joy.

“Yes,” you eagerly agree. “We can break in the kitchen counter later.” His laughter rattles down the hallway as he carries you to his room. 

Once you’re through the doorway, his movements pause. A tender note hums to life amidst the excitement of your newfound connection. There’s a tender look on his face as he regards you with equal parts lust and affection. It’s a serious step for him, to have you here in his most personal place. 

You’re distracted by the new space as soon as he sets you down, fascinated with his room– his personal room, not the one kept for him at the House of Wind. It’s sparsely decorated, too, but there’s knick knacks and weapons lying around in characteristically organized fashion. 

“A lot of weapons…” you comment, humor bubbling up from your delight at the novelty of his affection and attention. 

There’s several swords on the wall, artfully placed in the columns between windows, and knives and spears are displayed in tasteful and accessible ways. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was compensating for something. Is that a halberd? you think. The last time you saw a halberd was in an illustration on an ancient manuscript. 

“What do you do for work again?” you joke.

He laughs, “I’m afraid the tools come with the trade.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that, but, I mean, seriously. That one?” You gesture above the balcony doors, where a grossly oversized sword rests. “Come on, Az!”

“Come on, I bet your place is full of books!” he counters.

You just scoff, so he knows he’s right.

“Come here,” he says, fondly. “You can inspect my quarters later, you freak.”

“Your freak,” you correct. 

“My freak,” he agrees. 

With that, Azriel grabs your waist, and pulls you in for a sumptuous kiss. The wine on his tongue goes right to your head, while the warmth of him goes due south. You pull away to tug meaningfully at his shirt, but he just follows to place expert kisses along your jaw. His work is so severe that you gasp–

“Shit, Az, I'm not paying you!” 

“Are you calling me a whore?” he answers playfully, unfastening his shirt at the back under his wings. He sucks on his teeth, pulling away to look you in the eyes. “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that, actually. The payment didn’t go through last time–”

“Oh, no–”

“–yeah, so if you could, perhaps, pay in hard gold this time, that would be–”

“Ah, okay. Could you do a payment plan?–” the two of you banter while he shrugs off his vest. You relish the view of his exposed chest. 

He plays into your shameless ogling, flexing to show off his whorling tattoos and the dark hairs trailing down beyond his leathers. The faelights surrounding the room cast a glow through the thin membrane of his wings, softly limning his form with warmth. You laugh at his peep show, but the sound is pitchy with your arousal. The toned male blushes. His easy humor may have returned, but vestiges of his shy personality still remain. 

You whistle softly, continuing to torture him with your attention. His blush deepens impossibly. He’s just so easy to tease, and when he reacts like that, it's easier still to justify. 

“Your turn,” he says, voice gravelly. 

“What first?” you muse suggestively, smoothing down your dress. 

“Boots,” he chooses. 

Before you can toe them off, Azriel sinks suddenly to the floor. The sight of him on his knees before you sends a thrill up your spine. 

Azriel, this most fearsome Illyrian, is totally surrendered to you. Heat throbs through your abdomen at the sight. He’s looking up at you through his lashes, his throat bobbing in anticipation as he pants below you. You haven’t even touched him yet, but his passion is evident, his eyes wild.

He gently grabs the back of your shins. “May I?”

“Please.”

He effortlessly unlaces your boots with capable hands. 

“I’m surprised you want them off,” you tease as he grasps your hands to steady you as you step out of them. 

“You look so sexy in them,” he agrees. “I am making a real sacrifice here, for your comfort.” His hand skims up the back of your calf, brushing your dress over your knee with his thumb. He places a kiss directly on your knee, heat flaring in your stomach at the soft brush. 

“You look sexy in this too,” he compliments. His eyes never leave yours as he hauls himself up, you dress falling back to cover your legs. 

“Would you be mad if I asked you to take it off?” His tone is toying, but his eyes are pools of hot desire. 

“Don’t be an ass,” you rasp, mad only with anticipation. 

Azriel slips two fingers under the straps on your shoulders, kissing your chest as he tugs them down your arms. You’re honestly impressed that he finds the hidden zipper at your side. Nothing escapes him, does it? 

His hands come to brush along your freshly exposed skin, whispering praises into your hot flesh. After he peels off your dress with zeal, you raise a finger in warning. 

“Be careful with that. I actually want it back!”

“I promise I won’t lose it this time.” 

“Your promise is nothing to me! You never found my shirt, huh?” 

“No,” he confesses with an exaggerated air of regret, blowing out his lips in sympathy. Your eyes narrow at his suspicious behavior. 

“How do I know that you didn’t just steal it like a creep so you could jack off with it or something?” you say with mock sensuality. 

“I wish,” he hums, thumbing the discarded material of your shimmering dress as if you’ve given him a brilliant idea. “Honestly, that would have helped me out the other night.”

Azriel freezes, his eyes widening as he realizes his slip. Your grin mirrors his horror at his admission. A dull ache blooms anew below your stomach. 

“Did you touch yourself to the thought of me?” you breathe. 

“Maybe.” 

His voice is thick even as he squirms under your riveted look. His wings flutter briefly before relaxing as he spots the excitement on your flushed face.  

“Fuck,” you groan. “That's hot. Please don’t be embarrassed, that’s so flattering!”

Your words do nothing to prevent the hot flush spreading across his cheeks and chest. You push him to the bed, giggling when he falls onto the cushions dramatically before unceremoniously shucking off his pants. 

He makes grabby hands at you, and you melt at the sight of him, disheveled and unarmed, and as excited as you were. He pulls you towards him, bringing you to rest on his bare thigh. 

You kiss his sternum, looking up at him through your lashes. 

“I want you to show me.” 

Azriel pauses, and his breathing goes a little uneven. 

“Show you?” he repeats, his eyes blown out as you rub encouraging circles into his shoulder from your perch on his thigh.  

“I want you to touch yourself,” you purr. “Show me how you like it.”

His brows twitch, his eyes going predatory under heavy lids.

“It might be your last opportunity for a while, since I’m gonna be pretty fucking jealous of that hand if it steals too much time in my territory,” you admit with a meaningful glance towards his crotch. 

He laughs at that, but it doesn’t dampen the flame in his vision. 

“Okay,” he murmurs devilishly. “Get comfortable.”

It will be a cold day in hell when Azriel denies such a request from you.

He makes a show of shifting to rest comfortably against the cushions, his wings extending lazily to drape across the pillows and trailing to the floor. The wide expanse of his chest shines in the low faelight, his swirling tattoos prominent even in the dimness. The hard ridges of his muscles contract rhythmically in time with his powerful lungs. His nipples are hard, he shivers in the slight chill as he rubs a hand through his dark hair, tugging roughly. 

You come to rest just above his knee on his left thigh, essentially kneeling in the center of his bed. The slight contact has you boiling as you watch him trail a hand along his torso, one hand still teasing his hair. Your focus trails his toned abdomen down to his prominent arousal. 

“Well you won’t have to use your imagination, like I did, for the first part,” he begins lowly, “because, if you must know, I was already this hard before I could get out of my leathers.”

  If you weren’t dripping already, you are now. You’d been joking earlier, but this show really was worth some hard gold. Anyone would kill to see the fearsome Illyrian splayed out like this. 

Azriel hisses as he strokes slowly down his abs, his chest rising and falling in a tortured cadence. After some time stimulating himself in this way, his moans become breathy. 

With one hand, he deftly pulls himself out of his undershorts, and you can’t help yourself from reaching out to slide them a little further down his hips. Your mouth falls open at the sight of his sharp hip bones and the delicious stretch leading to the base of his heavy cock. 

Its red tip bobs temptingly at your knee, but you restrain yourself. You shift slightly, looking for some relief, and your knee accidentally brushes the edge of his wing. His hips buck involuntarily, a whine falling from his lips at the contact. 

“Shit, baby,” he cries. He hasn’t even touched himself, but his dick is straining against his stomach. 

“Sorry,” you say weakly.

“Liar,” he growls, seeing the hunger in your gaze. 

You shrug, unapologetic. Let him see what he did to you. It was his funeral at the moment.

He was focused on you, indeed, eyes roving around your naked form as he flexed his thigh beneath you. You start to circle your hips, your breasts bouncing with the sudden movement, until you hear him hum in pleasure. He was getting off from the vibration. 

“Don’t cheat,” you scold. 

He just whines, reluctantly stopping his thigh flexes. 

“Good boy. I’d hate to have to punish you, baby,” you warn.

You meant it playfully, but his breathing falters and his wings twitch. Interesting. You file the information away for another time.

His fingers catch your attention as they come to play with the soft underbelly of his cock, just under the head. He used two fingers to rub small circles on the tender flesh. The spot was right where it had landed on your tongue when you’d taken him in your mouth briefly the other night. Again, interesting. 

“This- this is supposed to be erotic,” Azriel struggles, “and you’re studying me like, like…”

“You’re a very compelling study,” you inform him in your most sensual voice as he struggles to speak.

“Fuck,” he says, “don’t tease me.” 

But you see the effect your praise has on him. His fingers finally circle his length fully, pulling short strokes at the head. The whimper that falls from your lips would be embarrassing if it wasn’t so melodic in company with his grunts and moans. His expression is so unguarded, lit as it is by ecstasy. 

“You’re doing so good for me,” you murmur. 

The shadow singer's back arches off the bed at one particularly harsh tug, his rhythm never faltering. His accuracy is almost uncanny. He must have honed the art of his pleasure with the same rigor and precision as the rest of his work. The test of the room fades as your focus is wholly captured by the male sighing below you. You’re obsessed with the unholy picture of his hand wrapped around his cock.

His shadows shift along his wings in time with his strokes. Sluggishly, you realize they must be stimulating him as well. The thought renders the ache at your core unbearable. 

Even through his euphoria, Azriel is receptive to your every expression. He sees your frustration.

“What do you need, angel,” he hums. 

You respond reflexively, your hips grinding into his thick thigh. Your face heats as you register the motion. It was just what you needed, though. You certainly didn't want him to stop what he was doing, his fist pumping wickedly.  

“Go on then,” he purrs.

The desire in his eyes encourages you to resume the motion, rocking your pelvis against the solid muscle of his thigh. 

“You look so perfect,” he praises. 

“And you’re sex incarnate, Az.”

You position yourself further up his thigh, balancing on your shins as your knees brush his wingtips again. You’re rewarded with a throaty groan for your flirting. The sight and vibration of your riding his thigh has the male slowing his hand, and gripping at the base of his cock. You’re not faring any better. 

You brace yourself against his chest with your arms, both of you sensitive to the barest touch. The slight pressure on his chest has him hurtling towards the edge again. As he holds off his own strokes, he sends his shadows towards your form, your makeshift rules be damned.

The sighs you breathe are far from a complaint. His shadows lick up your form with tender phantom touches, and you feel the pleasure build in your core. Your rhythm starts to slip as you chase your release. His sculpted thigh should not be making you feel this good, but you start to see stars and you know the male can’t be fully mortal.

“That’s it, baby, let go,” he pants, as enthralled with your euphoria as he is with his own. 

You barely register his praises as your orgasm shatters you, his shadows licking along with the pleasure racing through your body. As the waves wrack you, he drinks in your scrunched features, the soft cavity of your gasping mouth. You meet his eyes as you hurtle over the edge, the image of his carnal devotion seared into your mind. It would be unnerving if it wasn’t such a reflection of your own feral interior.   

“That was so hot,” Azriel praises. 

“Pervert. You were supposed to be giving me a show,” you pant, frowning as you catch your breath. 

“I think I gave you a proper show, if that was your reaction.” 

He’s earned a smug attitude, you figure. Your vision is still a little blurry, but you feel his shadows and fingers rubbing soothing patterns along your upper thighs. A different warmth blooms as you cool down from your blistering orgasm. 

As you marvel at the intimacy of his gestures, Azriel’s head is clearing enough to fully appreciate the sight of you in his bed. 

He had been on the brink of the most mind blowing orgasm of his life, yet he doesn’t even care about the urgency he’s feeling from his dick as he commits the image of you in his room to memory. It feels so right to have you here, just like it felt right to share a drink with you at Rita’s, and to sit down for a meal with you with his family. 

Azriel reflects on the thought he’d had days ago, how he’s fallen into the gravity of powers like this before, but never in such blissful hues. His mind flashes back to battles he’s fought, the enemies he’s faced. Every time, the contact of such powers results in a brief conflict, a decisive end. The conclusion is inevitable; the force of the challenge undeniable in its strength and direction. This attraction, though. What to make of it? 

The intensity is similar– his current adrenaline certainly feels like he’s just seen someone draw a sword, but it’s different. Your power was a challenge, but an invitation too. 

The feeling is like the gravity in his gut at the beginning of a flight, when he’s leaping off of a cliff, that brief tension borne in the short moment between the stability of the ground and the strength of his wings. The feeling is prolonged, like he’s suspended there with you. 

He finds that he doesn’t mind it so much, with you there, caught up in it just as much as he is. Besides, he’s tired of keeping everyone at arm’s length, he decides. He’s always loved flying, even if he came to it later than the others. Why should love be any different?

“Can you fuck me now?”

Your unsubtle words break his delicate reverie.  Oh, he’s in serious trouble, he thinks as he sees you bite your lip. 

“I’m not going to last,” he warns. 

“Same here,” you admit. You were already feeling overstimulated, you doubt you’ll last long at his pace. “I want to feel you though.”

He presses a messy kiss to your mouth, savoring the moment. You’re just as unhurried, glad to linger in any moment with the gorgeous male below you. Strong hands guide you to straddle his hips, his legs bent slightly to support your lower back as he leans against the headboard. 

When he finally enters you, he groans lowly. 

“Fuck, I’ve missed this.”

Your response is garbled by your euphoria. What you feel is euphoric relief, his cock filling you with a satisfying burn. Despite his size, the pain is minimal, your wetness helping him slide in easily. He grips your forearms, bringing your hands to anchor on his shoulders. 

“It’s like you were made for me,” he slurs, delirious already. 

The position is intimate. As he begins to rock you over his hips, your focus falls to explore the stunning male. Azriel is so fucked out already, raw from having edged himself earlier. His body is slick with perspiration, his face set in concentration, eyes blown out. Your hands on his shoulders are broiling with his heat. 

His dark hair falls limply against the cushions, and his wings are hanging loosely, like he has no extra stamina to hold his posture. He meets your gaze, and the eye contact somehow feels even more intimate than the position you’re in. He seems entranced. The agony on his face is underscored by his attention fixed on your every move. It's like he’s seeing your soul, plucking the thread of your need and following it faithfully. 

Using his broad shoulders as leverage, you start to fuck yourself on him. You’re rewarded with a stuttering groan as his hips thrust in time to meet you. Your head falls back in pleasure when your clit is ground deliciously against the coarse hair at the base of his pelvis as you bounce on him. Between his thick cock and his hard abdomen, you're perfectly stimulated. 

The room becomes thick with the heat and scent of your sex. All of your senses are riveted to the male below you, to the pleasure being delivered to your core. Soft sighs and deep groans fill the air as you fuck at an agonizing pace. 

His hands release their death grip on your hips, moving to explore your thighs and chest. The rough sensation of his hands over your skin is fuel to the fire of your appetite. 

Desperate for somewhere to release your energy, you lean forward to connect your mouths. He hums in delight at the sudden kiss. You taste his sweat and his fervor, and it’s intoxicating. 

When you pull away, his lips are shining with spit. Azriel looks like a male possessed. 

“Shit, angel. Can we do this, like… all the time?” he begs. 

“We haven’t even– even finished, and you’re– you’re thinking about doing it again?” you manage. 

“Can you blame me?” he retorts. He emphasizes his words with a particularly vicious thrust that has you gasping. 

“Please,” you cry. “We had better do this often.”

“ Awesome ,” he cheers breathlessly with a small smile to himself. 

Your heart sputters at the sweetly boyish comment. Here he was, inside you, and he was excited at the idea of fucking you again later. It isn't just your body either, which was a major plus, but he likes you . Earlier he’d confessed that he wants more than sex. He wants to bring you into his life in a more serious way too. 

You envision yourself bringing some belongings here, working at the library during the day, dining with Azriel and his family in the evenings. And at night, he would bring you here, to his bed, where he would ravish you. You relax into his body further as you realize you’ll have many opportunities to fuck him. He’d gotten excited earlier when you’d suggested some kinkier things. And, sure, he’d laughed when you’d joked about fucking in the kitchen, but he’d not seemed opposed. 

“Are you with me?”

You blink, coming back to the present. If you were going to blame him for getting excited about future sexual escapades in the middle of fucking, you were guilty too. Thankfully, your body kept up the rhythm on reflex, cause you were just miles away in a diaphanous dream of your mutual future. 

“There she is,” he smiles at you fondly as he rocks you mercilessly onto his cock. 

His stamina was impressive. Despite your fatigue, arousal has your body pulsing with adrenaline. The familiar pressure mounts in your abdomen as you grind onto him. 

As he eases your pleasure along, he’s transfixed by the sight of your bodies meeting, your hips swallowing him into your soaking hole. The feeling of your nails scraping at his scalp plunges him further into rapture, the slight sting heightening his sensitivity. 

“I’m close,” you warn him. 

“I’m with you, angel,” he pants. “Come on, baby.”

You abandon your bouncing to grind selfishly against him, chasing your bliss. He’s content with the debauched sight and the warmth of you around him. When your hand tugs his hair again, his dick twitches. Then your fisted knuckles brush his wings ever so delicately and his hips lurch, his shadows rioting. 

Azriel is dangerously on the edge, but he’s determined to watch you unravel first, his competitive and generous spirits united under his indecent desire to see you come undone. Even as he appears depraved, he feels devoted. Your ecstasy was his own. 

One last delicious shift of his cock scraping your walls, and your release staggers you. Your eyes flutter shut as crystalized bliss shatters over you. His scent envelops you, the salt of sweat mixing with tangy citrus. It transports you to a realm of bliss, where the only presence is yours and his, a delicious meeting of your senses. 

The agonizing image of your ecstasy has him spilling inside you, his whines cresting as he climaxes. His teeth scrape yours in a sloppy openmouthed kiss. You ride out your orgasms, hips jerking erratically, waves of pleasure ebbing languidly. 

You’re left with a warm buzz, even the discomfort of your stickiness feels rather like sweetness as you take in the glorious male. When your eyes catch, his lips curl into a smile. Your heart skips a beat at the tender sight of him spent and glowing beneath you. His shadows bleed into the cushions, baring him to you completely. 

“Can I lie down?”

“Please,” he shifts to help you off of him. 

You hiss as he slips out of you. “Sorry,” he mumbles, concerned. 

“You’re good.”

“Are you okay?” His shadows rove over you, assessing for damage, and he winces at the mess between your thighs. You laugh at his concern, waving it off. 

“I feel great. Just overstimulated,” you assure him as you curl into his pillows, your muscles grateful for the break. He nods and kisses your temple. The gesture is endearing, even as your thighs burn. You pull him down to rest next to you. 

His eyes never leave yours, monitoring your movements and drinking in the image of you snuggled into his bed. You reach out to trace his features, avoiding the intensity of his gaze. It isn’t uncomfortable, you’re just so overloaded already; you aren’t sure you can handle its palpable energy. His skin is soft under your fingers, the fleshiness of his sharp face surprising you. Azriel hums under your soothing touch. 

The unmistakable sentiment in his gaze has you melting into the comfort of his cushions, utterly relaxed. After all the uncertainty of the past few days, the surety of this moment is crisp, intoxicating. Nothing was guaranteed, of course, but you like your odds with him. You'd never been one to back down from a challenge. 

“I thought you were going to ask me to leave,” you confess into the tender silence of the aftermath.

He frowns. “When?” 

“Before,” you explain. “Right before you told me how you felt.”

He groans, regret clouding his features. “I’m so sorry. I haven’t made things easy for you. I definitely didn’t want you to leave.” 

You shrug. You’re here now, what was passed is past. “You’re worth a little torture.” 

“Why did you think that?” he asks, ignoring your lighthearted response. He avoids your eyes, fidgeting absently with the edge of the duvet. 

“Well,” you begin, unsure of how honest to be. You opt for full truth, the words rushing out of you. “You didn’t fuck me! I was throwing eyes at you all night and things were going well–”

“Things were going well? Do you really think that?” he interrupts. “‘Cause Cass said I ‘grilled you on border security’.”

You snort at his air quotes. 

“Well, yeah,” you frown, recalling the conversation, “but only after I asked you about how recovery efforts were going here, which is kind of a killjoy topic anyways.”

“We suck at this,” he decides brightly. 

“Excuse you!” you leap to defend yourself. “I'm amazing at this– anyways! Totally not the point. You didn’t respond to my hints, so I thought maybe you’d changed your mind, and that you weren’t into me.” 

Azriel shakes his head, and his rough fingers tenderly brush your hair away from your face.

“You were way off target, cause I’m totally into you. Remind me never to hire you for intelligence,” he teases, the words affectionate. 

“In my defense, you are kind of hard to read,” you admit.

He hums, not denying it.

“Holy shit! See? I was just about to tell you off and you slithered out of it!” you look at him, equally impressed and incredulous at his evasive skills. 

Now it's his turn to be unnerved, clearly caught out by your acute perception. You’re satisfied with yourself. 

“Wow. Okay, I'll take it back, you’re hired,” he dodges. You don’t take the bait. His words make you think about his long career in intelligence. Suddenly, it makes perfect sense how he struggles with expressing himself verbally. He knew firsthand what the wrong words falling into the wrong ears could do. Pair that with whatever other… unique emotional baggage he has going on… shit. He’s probably actually very well adjusted, given everything he’s experienced. 

Shit. She’s good , he thinks as you watch him silently. It was a classic technique, one he used often in interrogations. 

He sighs. “Alright. So you may have picked up that I’m… guarded.”

“ No ,” you say with sarcasm. 

“ Yes ," he laughs, before groaning and sitting up to look you in the eyes as he continues. “I’m sorry I wasn't upfront about how I felt. Like I said, I can't do casual. So I didn't know what I was doing. I was trying to protect myself from, well, doing what I did, and spilling my guts to you.”

“You were very brave to do that,” you tell him seriously. 

He rolls his eyes.

“No, I mean it,” you press, suddenly sure of your recent revelation, desperate to assure him. “I’m glad you decided to trust me. I’m honored.”

You really are. Every glimpse you’ve gotten into his inner world has only deepened your affection for him. Strangely, you feel like you fit into his world, as new as it all is to you. 

Occasionally in your work, you would come across a book from the archives, and it would be just what you needed for your project, even though you hadn’t known it had existed. What a thrill it always was, to find a gift in the world, unasked for and unplanned. The same sweet serendipity floods your senses now, as Azriel’s eyes shine with emotion. 

“I might need you to be patient with me,” he whispers, like the words are too dangerous to handle in the open.

“Of course. Whatever you need,” you promise him. 

With that, you press a kiss to his lips, thick with feeling.

His hand grips your jaw, holding you there to convey the depth of his adoration. He strokes your face fondly.

You pull him close, and he envelops you in his strong arms and soft wings. You lay there for a while, nestled in the security of his warmth. 

“Bath?” he offers eventually.

You hum thoughtfully. “Honestly? I’m too tired to move.”

“I’ll carry you.”

A luxurious soak later, Azriel slips one of his shirts over your clean, drowsy form. Drained as you are, you keep yourself awake to watch him towel his hair dry from your place on his duvet. 

You exhale abruptly, and his attention fixes on your drawn brows. You raise them as you finally ask the question you’ve been deliberating. 

“I was just thinking… you have libraries here, right?” you search meaningfully. 

“Yes, we do,” he answers casually, lips curling into the beginnings of a smile. “There’s one just down the hall, actually.” 

“Huh?”

“Why do you ask?” Azriel continues coyly, coming to stand before you. “Are you thinking of settling down here, or something?” 

“I said, huh ?” you repeat. Does he have a home library? Oh, you’re a goner. 

“Come on, I’ll show you.” 

You shake your head in amusement. “You are so full of secrets,” you accuse.

“Full of surprises,” he corrects, rewarding you with a wide grin. 

You wonder if you’d ever reach the last of them, you muse as the lovesick Illyrian moves to make good on his words. You imagine you never will, but it sounds like a nice fate to die trying. 

After all, it seems like you’ll be needing a new hobby, now that you’ll have to give up recreational flirting. Azriel is happy to keep you occupied. 

✸✸✸ 

Later, when the night was deep, the stars shining brightly with the soft promise of new beginnings, Azriel remembers a threat that he needs to make good on. 

I’m gonna fucking kill you guys , Azriel projects to Rhys and Cassian. You’ll never see me coming. It will be long, and painful. NEVER mess with my plans – never again!

Well! Rhys' response arrives instantly, dripping with sarcasm. That sure was a delayed reaction… I hope you’ve had a productive evening.

Cassian’s reply is more direct. You’re welcome, brother dearest!  

Despite his vexation with his brothers, Azriel smiles into the dark, content as he is to have you in his arms. He thinks dimly of your face under the flashing lights at Rita’s, how close he had come to losing his nerve to speak to you, how grateful he’d been to have an excuse to talk to you, and how foolish he’d felt when he left you alone on your doorstep after your last date. 

His racing mind quiets as he traces your features, sleeping soundly in his bed. He has no intention of letting you go this time. 

_

A/N: I hope y’all enjoyed!! I really fell in love with these two. It was so fun crafting their dynamic in part one, I had to expand the plot a little to allow their connection to develop more in this one. Sorry to make you read like 9k of plot and banter before the sexy part! 

Here’s a little of my thought process behind this part 2: The more I thought about it, I just realized Azriel can’t do casual relationships. 

In the books, it’s heavily implied that he pined after Mor for centuries, so like he’s a truly long-suffering loverboy. It would actually be so out of character for him to casually date. Even if he were to turn a new leaf and pursue someone, he's too guarded, too high profile to be comfortable with just a fling. If he’s in, he’s all in. 

So I was like how do we break the ice? I imagined that Cass and Rhys could sense how invested he was in Reader, and that they knew he’d flounder in his attempts to approach it casually. Devotion and quiet intensity are just so key to Azriel’s personality. I wanted to explore what it would look like if he felt the green light from someone - personally I think it would unlock some of his private nature and allow him to safely express his feelings (which we see him try for the first time here!). Normally, I don't like it when fics have a love confession after one whole date, but in this case it just felt right.  

Not to write a thesis and spend hours critically thinking so that my premises perfectly align to support my porn with plot LOL just girly things :) 

[probablyasocialecologist]

The likelihood that other technologically sophisticated societies exist is smaller than previously thought, because basic amenities we take for granted on Earth—continents, oceans, and plate tectonics—are cosmically rare.

[...]

Most geologists will agree with Stern’s and Gerya’s argument that plate tectonics should be included as a criterion for long-term planetary habitability. Earth’s tectonic system allows the planet’s atmosphere and hydrosphere to remain in communication with its interior, in a remarkable, self-perpetuating cycle. Subducted ocean crust—seafloor that slips down into Earth’s interior—carries water back into the mantle, and at shallow depths, this water lowers the melting temperature of mantle rock, giving rise to unusual magmas that create the continental crust—what we surface dwellers live on—which is rich in rare elements, like phosphorus, that are critical to life.  At greater depths, subducted water acts to decrease the viscosity of the mantle, allowing it to churn, or convect, more vigorously—which in turn drives plate motion. When the Earth’s mantle exports heat via convection, it encourages the liquid iron outer core to convect as well, and this generates Earth’s protective magnetic field, which shields the surface environment from harmful cosmic radiation. Without plate tectonics, continents would quickly be eroded to sea level. But tectonic collisions continuously rejuvenate Earth’s topography, providing rivers with more energy to transport nutrient-rich sediments to shallow marine environments. In other words, plate tectonics is entangled with all the phenomena that support life on Earth.

17 July 2024

[frodosrings]

okay guys... the announcement is finally here...

join us for.....

☀️SAMFRO SUMMER☀️

myself and @silme-lorien present to you all the Samfro Summer 10 Day Event! From July 1st-10th, join us in creating writing, artwork, and any other creative endeavour for Samfro Summer! This 10 day event will have daily summer themes that we can all follow along with, and you can post your works with the hashtag #samfrosummer !! the daily themes are listed below :)

Day 1: Large Gatherings / Festivities examples/prompts:

county fair, carnival, summer festival, backyard parties, cultural celebrations, weddings, party time, meeting family

Day 2: Sun / Heat examples/prompts:

solstice, freckles, sunburn, tanned skin, sweat, blinding lights, searching for shade, sunrise/sunset, glowing, ethereal, wind/breeze 

Day 3: Nature / Wilderness  examples/prompts:

camping trip, hiking, bonfire, wildflowers, stargazing, shapes in the clouds, grass beneath your feet, mountains, wildlife, storms

Day 4: Rebirth, Regrowth, Rejuvenation examples/prompts:

finding yourself, family, change of seasons, trying something new/trying again, refreshing love, planting the seeds

Day 5: Snacks & Refreshments  examples/prompts:

lemonade stand, ice cream, picnic, barbeque, cooking together, picking berries, come over for a meal, farmers market

Day 6: Summer Pastimes  examples/prompts:

reading a book, lazy mornings, going for a walk, hammock, summer routines, boredom, domesticity, loving in secret

Day 7: Water / Beach examples/prompts:

beach day, swimming, tanning, in the sand, cooling off, lakes/rivers, cool bath, waterfalls, a quick dip, skipping stones

Day 8: Games & Creativity  examples/prompts:

board/card games, art, writing, muse, sports, sculpt, gifts, scrapbook, paint, teaching the rules, having fun, crafting, sewing

Day 9: Hard Work examples/prompts:

yard work, gardening, building something, rekindling, getting out of your comfort zone, chores/housework, making up

Day 10: Wildcard   examples/prompts:

it’s a wildcard!! create something for a summer prompt we haven’t covered OR go back and do a prompt you couldn’t get to / had more than one idea for :)

GET EXCITED!

Rules below:

DO:

from the daily themes, either pick one of the “example/prompts” (or combine a few) or choose your own related to the daily theme and create a work of writing/art/some other creative endeavour to share!

tag your works each day with #samfrosummer

support each other! reblog and share one another’s works/pieces!

tag nsfw/mature/triggering content properly, we want everyone to be included and we don’t want anyone to see things they are uncomfortable with

create some hype so we can get this event to as many people as possible! reblogs on this and/or @silme_lorien ‘s post is greatly appreciated!

use the same hashtag if you post your works on other sites so that we can keep them all together

take creative liberties! make works in canon universe, in different au’s or timelines, gender-swapped, anything you want! all we ask is that you stick with the daily summer related theme :)

send an ask to mine or @silme_lorien ‘s inbox if you have any questions!

let us know if you will be participating!

DON’T:

spread hate or ship discourse. don’t like? don't participate! easy

if you live in the southern hemisphere, i apologize and please ask that you still participate and just pretend it will be summer in july :P

[water-conservation]

 From Ideas to Action: Effective Water Conservation Projects for a Sustainable Future

1. Introduction

The global concerns of water scarcity and the impending water crisis demand immediate attention. It is our duty as humans to preserve and guard this priceless resource for coming generations. Projects aimed at conserving water are one of the main areas where creative solutions are required. These initiatives look for fresh and inventive approaches to lessen waste, restore rivers, and conserve water. 

2. The importance of water conservation

Saving water is essential to guaranteeing that there will be clean, safe water for present and future generations. The need for water has grown rapidly as a result of the fast urbanization, industrialization, and population development, placing a heavy burden on available supplies.

Water conservation helps save money on water bills and safeguards the environment. We can lessen the need for excessive water withdrawal from rivers, lakes, and underground aquifers by putting water conservation methods into effect. Thus, a sustainable water balance in ecosystems may be maintained and the depletion of these water sources can be avoided.

3. Sustainable solutions for water conservation

It's critical that we search for sustainable solutions in our efforts to preserve water that have the least negative effects on the environment. The following creative project ideas for water conservation are setting the standard for a sustainable water future:

1. Rainwater Harvesting: One efficient technique to cut back on water use is to collect and store rainwater for later use. Installing rain barrels or cisterns to collect rainwater from rooftops is one way to accomplish this.

2. Greywater Recycling: Wastewater from daily activities like washing and showering can be cleaned up and utilized again for landscape irrigation and other non-potable uses. It's a clever technique to lessen the demand on freshwater supplies.

3. Drip Irrigation Systems: These systems reduce water waste by delivering water straight to the roots of the plant, in contrast to traditional sprinklers. This technique guarantees water conservation in landscapes, gardens, and agriculture.

4. Installing smart water meters can assist with real-time monitoring and control of water usage. Water waste may be recognized and addressed by individuals and enterprises with the use of precise data and immediate feedback.

5. Water-Efficient Appliances: Purchasing water-efficient fixtures such as low-flow showerheads, faucets, and toilets can significantly cut down on the amount of water used in residential and business settings.

6. Permeable Pavement: Rainwater can seep into the ground when permeable materials are used for parking lots, driveways, and sidewalks. This replenishes groundwater and eases the strain on stormwater management systems.

4. Innovative project idea: Rainwater harvesting

Rainwater harvesting is a time-tested technique that has become more and more popular in recent years for water conservation. In order to lessen the burden on freshwater resources and reduce water wastage, this project proposal involves collecting rainwater and storing it for later use.

Depending on the project's objectives and scale, rainwater collecting can be implemented in a variety of creative methods. Rainwater from rooftops and gutters can be collected for household use by installing rain barrels or cisterns. After that, you can use this water for non-potable uses including cleaning, toilet flushing, and plant watering.

Rainwater harvesting can be integrated into infrastructure and building design on a bigger scale. For instance, subterranean storage tanks that gather rainfall for irrigation and cooling purposes can be built into structures.

5. Innovative project idea: Graywater recycling

Reducing water waste in agriculture is the goal of a creative project idea called graywater recycling. Graywater is the term for wastewater that is produced by appliances like washing machines, sinks, and showers and can be recovered and used again for irrigation. We can lessen the demand on water resources and the quantity of freshwater needed for crop irrigation by putting in place graywater recycling technologies.

Graywater recycling can be used in agricultural activities in a variety of ways. Before using graywater for irrigation, farmers might install filtration systems to clean it up and remove any pollutants. Drip irrigation systems can also be used to provide effective and precise water distribution, minimizing water loss from runoff and evaporation.

Graywater recycling not only saves water but also gives plants nutrients because it contains trace amounts of organic debris and home cleansers. We can assist ensure our water future and support sustainable agriculture by implementing this creative project proposal.

6. Innovative project idea: Artificial wetlands

Artificial wetlands are another innovative project idea that can contribute to water conservation efforts. These man-made ecosystems mimic the functions of natural wetlands and provide a range of environmental benefits, including water purification and habitat creation.

In an artificial wetland system, wastewater or stormwater is directed to the wetland, where natural processes such as filtration, sedimentation, and biological action help to remove pollutants and contaminants. As the water passes through the wetland, plants and microorganisms break down and absorb the harmful substances, resulting in cleaner water that can be safely discharged into rivers or reused for non-potable purposes.

Artificial wetlands not only help to conserve water by treating and recycling wastewater but also provide valuable wildlife habitats, improve water quality, and enhance overall ecosystem health. Whether implemented on a small scale in residential areas or on a larger scale for industrial or municipal purposes, artificial wetlands are an effective and sustainable way to conserve our precious water resources.

7. Innovative project idea: Water-efficient landscaping

Water-efficient landscaping is a creative project idea that can significantly contribute to water conservation efforts. Traditional landscaping practices often involve high water usage, but by implementing water-efficient techniques, we can reduce water consumption while still maintaining beautiful outdoor spaces.

One approach to water-efficient landscaping is using native plants that are well-adapted to the local climate and require minimal irrigation. These plants are naturally acclimated to the area's rainfall patterns and soil conditions, making them more resistant to drought and reducing the need for supplemental watering.

Additionally, incorporating efficient irrigation systems can further enhance water conservation. Drip irrigation, for example, delivers water directly to the plant roots, minimizing evaporation and ensuring more efficient water usage. Smart irrigation controllers can also be used to automatically adjust watering schedules based on weather conditions and soil moisture levels, preventing overwatering and ensuring water is used optimally.

Water-efficient landscaping not only saves water but also helps to prevent soil erosion, promotes biodiversity, and reduces the need for chemical fertilizers and pesticides. By embracing these innovative practices, we can make a positive impact on our water resources while still enjoying the beauty of our outdoor spaces.

8. Innovative project idea: Water recycling systems

Systems for reusing used water are yet another creative project concept that can support water conservation initiatives. These systems gather and clean water from a variety of sources, including effluent from specific activities, greywater from sinks and showers, and even rainfall.

The need for freshwater resources can be decreased by using treated recycled water for non-potable uses such as industrial processes, toilet flushing, and irrigation. Water recycling systems range in complexity from expensive treatment technology to basic installations like rain buckets.

Water recycling not only helps preserve water supplies but also lessens the load on wastewater treatment facilities and lowers the energy and expenses involved in purifying and delivering freshwater.

10. Innovative project idea: Community awareness campaigns

These campaigns can take various forms, including educational programs, workshops, online campaigns, and community events. One effective strategy is to collaborate with local schools, environmental organizations, and community centers to reach a wider audience.

Through community awareness campaigns, individuals can learn about efficient water use, the impact of their daily habits on water consumption, and practical steps they can take to conserve water.

11. Conclusion

In conclusion, raising awareness about water conservation through community campaigns is an effective strategy to educate individuals about the importance of conserving our precious resource. By collaborating with local schools, environmental organizations, and community centers, we can reach a wider audience and empower them to take action.

By implementing these innovative ideas, we can create a positive impact on water conservation efforts and ensure a sustainable future for generations to come.

[insightfultake]

Reviving the Yamuna: A Mission To Save India’s Sacred River

The Yamuna River, once a symbol of purity and prosperity, has now become a victim of unchecked pollution and administrative neglect. Flowing through the heart of northern India, it serves as a crucial water source for millions, yet it has been reduced to a toxic stream filled with industrial waste, untreated sewage, and encroachments. Over the years, numerous efforts have been made to rejuvenate the river, but tangible results remain elusive. The latest initiative by the Delhi government aims to restore the river through large-scale cleaning drives and stricter pollution control measures. However, given the scale of degradation, a singular approach will not suffice—reviving the Yamuna requires a concerted and collaborative effort across states.

[perlelune]

no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | vi.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

An eternity seems to fly by as you wait for Coriolanus to do what you’re too terrified to do on your own. During the agonizing minutes, you picture William’s face. The confusion, the hurt. Tears skip down your cheeks as you curl over the blankets, knees against your chest.

Hopefully your reckless actions haven’t ruined what you two have. Maybe one day, you’ll even jest about it, the pre-wedding jitters that caused you to hide for a week.

It’s the meager hope you cling onto as the soft tap on the door draws you from your thoughts.

Coriolanus nudges the door open, a silver tray between his hands. A matching porcelain kettle and cup sit on the tray.

The mattress sinks as he sits on the edge of the bed, placing the steaming teapot at your bedside. Your gaze drags over the colorful roses painted on the porcelain set. 

Tearful eyes rising to his face, you ask “H-How did it go?”

His long fingers drape over your cheek, wiping your tears as he smiles down at you. “Everything’s alright.” His deep soothing voice brings you comfort as it rolls over you. “Things will work out the way they’re supposed to, just like I promised you.” He collects the tea cup from the tray. The steam rising from it caresses your face.

“It’s my own personal blend of chamomile, peppermint and lavender, for your nerves.”

“I don’t need that.”

Concern sways in Coryo’s blue orbs, his thumb collecting another stray tear.

“You had an emotional day. It’ll help you sleep, trust me.”

You don’t reply, laying the side of your face against the pillow. Do you even deserve to sleep soundly after causing the people in your life so much unnecessary distress?

Maybe this is what you deserve, unending nights wrestling with your own mind while you drown in a river of your own tears. After all, if you hadn’t overindulged in alcohol that night, you wouldn’t be here. You still remember the way Coryo described it. Were you truly that desperate to bury Sejanus’ memory, to forget?

Coriolanus strokes the crown of your head.

“I just want you to get one good night of rest. You need it. Do you really want to spend the entire night torturing yourself when you’ve done nothing wrong?”

For a while, silence hangs between the two of you, Coriolanus letting you weep as he patiently cups your face. The aromatic scents of the herbs he mixed in the tea tickle your nose. You have to admit, it smells heavenly. Like peace. The thing you’re craving most at this very moment. For your thoughts and emotions to fall silent, allowing you to drift into a dreamless slumber.

So you surrender.

You sit up and graciously accept the cup Coryo offers you. As soon as the first few drops of the warm liquid coat your tongue, a heady, pleasant feeling swaddles your mind. It makes your body feel heavy, pleasant warm tingles swirling over your flesh.

“I’m starting to feel…”

Coryo’s beaming face starts blurring in your line of sight. Your grip on the cup weakens. He assists you in holding it, tipping the rim against your lips so you gulp another sip.

“Drink more. All of it.” You heed his instruction. The drowsiness grows tenfold. Your lids sag. Your body slumps over the pillows. You feel the soft brush of Coriolanus’s lips on your forehead. “Sweet dreams, princess.”

You awake from the best sleep you’ve had in literal weeks, a wide smile stretching over your lips as you unfurl from the sheets.

Unlike the nights before, you didn’t wake up in the middle of the night, screaming, crying or tossing and turning in bed.

You pivot to the sun rays spilling from between the curtains. You bask in the rejuvenating warmth kissing your skin. For a while, you stay like that, in awe that your mind isn’t crowded with anxious thoughts. Instead, you’re calm, rested, your head light as feathers. Even your grief is a faint noise when it’s usually so loud, its uproarious presence twisting your heart first thing most mornings. 

It’s a newfound serenity you haven’t known in many weeks.

Even the bone-deep ache sitting in your limbs cannot cast a pale on the day. As you step in the rose-scented bath that’s been drawn for you, the soreness lingers. You grimace a little.

Perhaps you slept so heavily, your entire body is tense from it.

But as you lie back and let the hot water work its magic, the pain starts to fade. You let the strange sensation melt away, smiling once more.

You enjoy your bath. A bright, wonderful day awaits you.

When you’re done, you put on one of your favorite day dresses and hop down the stairs.

You find the entire Snow clan having breakfast in the dining room.

Coriolanus peeks from above the morning paper, his face brightening as his gaze flicks over you.

As you approach the empty chair near Grandma’am, Coriolanus rises and pulls it for you.

“Good morning,” you chime while plopping into your seat.

Tigris beams at you. “Good morning. I see someone’s feeling better.”

You tuck your hands into your lap as a maid places a scrumptious plate of eggs and meat in front of you. Your stomach growls at the sight and you pick up your fork, excited to dig into the food. You haven’t had a proper meal since you left Ma and Dad’s house.

Although, even that is a fuzzy memory, as you can’t remember the last time all of you sat down and had a proper breakfast as a family since Janus passed away.

It’s been too hard.

Shoving the fork into your mouth, you acquiesce, “Much better.” You hum as the flavors melt on your tongue.

The corner of Coriolanus’s lip quirk as he observes you. He returns to his seat and bends forward.

“I take it you’ve had a restful night, princess?”

“Yes, and I have you to thank for that. I don’t know what’s in that tea exactly but it works wonders.”

“I’ve had the opportunity to experiment with many natural remedies while working under Dr Gaul.” A glint dances in his blue eyes. “Some plants have the most…fascinating benefits.”

“I think I’ll take some with me home, if you don’t mind. Not just for me but Ma has struggled with sleep ever since…”

Your voice dwindles as an abrupt wave of sadness passes over you.

Tigris grabs your hand and squeezes it across the table.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Coriolanus nods in agreement. “She’s right. Take it one day at a time, princess.”

You ponder what he just said. You are feeling markedly better today, but you loathe thinking about your mom and dad alone.

You swallow a wide lungful.

“Maybe I should go back home tomorrow.”

Coriolanus’ gaze narrows, his smile vanishing momentarily before sliding back into place.

“This early? Shouldn’t you rest a bit more first? It’s clear that you need it.” He studies you for a long time. “You can’t be here for others when you aren’t healed yourself.” You shudder. Sometimes the blond seems to possess the uncanny ability to peer right inside your head. He reaches over the table to place his hand over yours. “Don’t rush it. Like I told you before, our home is your home.”

You don’t find it in yourself to argue, Coriolanus’ gentle yet firm grip on your hand and his smile chasing away your doubts.

“O-Okay.”

Satisfaction glimmers in his gaze at your response.

As Coryo advises, you remain with his family a little while longer. Everyday, he finds gentle words to convince you to extend your stay. It doesn’t take much for you to believe him as you trust him fully, his caring demeanor reminding you of your brother. If Coryo thinks you need a bit more time, he must be right. He only wants what’s best for you.

So a few days turn into a week, which eventually becomes two weeks. Surprisingly, you and the Snows’ daily routines twine with ease. In the morning, you have breakfast together in the dining room. Then you tend to the roses with Grandma’am while she hums songs to herself, an endearing habit you’ve grown quite fond of.

And you usually spend the rest of the day with Tigris, chatting or playing board games, or on your own, reading most of the time. Coriolanus’ library is massive enough to rival the one you have at home. You never run out of things to do in the gigantic penthouse, even sometimes cleaning and cooking to pass the time, efforts Coriolanus never fails to praise you for.

Whenever he returns home to a spotless house or one of your delicious meals, his blue eyes light up with happiness.

And of course, at night, Coryo talks to you in your bed while you dutifully drink your tea, regaling you with stories about his apprenticeship and the University. Most of the time, you never get to learn how they end because you fall asleep.

Thanks to Coriolanus’ herbal mixture, your sleeping schedule is back to relative normalcy. The only downsides are the tea’s peculiar side effects, as near everyday you wake up sore and aching. But the slight inconvenience is minor compared to the benefits you’ve experienced.

All is good and well until one day glimpses of lost memories flash in your brain.

You’re starting to remember the night of Clemensia’s party.

It first happens as you’re gardening with Grandma’am. You’re watering one of the rose bushes when something rushes back to you, something so vivid the watering can in your hand clatters to the ground.

You stumble back, your breaths quickening. Placing a hand between your shoulder blades, Grandma’am helps you find your way to a nearby bench. You collapse atop the bench, your mind whirling.

Her wrinkled features crease in concern.

“Are you alright, sweet girl? Should we call a doctor?”

“I’m fine, grandma’am. Just got dizzy for a bit.”

You smile, hating that you just lied to the older woman. You’re not fine. You’re starting to remember things, things that don’t match up, make no sense.

Terrible things.

I knew you’d feel just perfect around me.

Chills bounce across your spine. Your fingers tighten around the edge of the bench as your breath flows back to your lungs.

You come to a decision. 

You need to talk to Coriolanus. 

Your brows squeeze together in frustration as the balding man checks your pulse and shines a light in your eyes again. It’s the third time tonight. Coriolanus insisted upon it.

“I told you there was no need for a physician, Coryo.”

“Grandma’am said you almost passed out,” the blonde retaliates.

You heave out a deep exhale as you glance at Tigris and Grandma’am standing nervously by the wall. They’re wearing the same concerned expression. 

You wished Grandma’am hadn’t made such a big deal of your little moment in the garden. You feel fine…well, physically at least.

You flash a feeble smile at Coriolanus.

“I didn’t…it was just a dizzy spell. Nothing honestly.”

Brows knitting, he turns to the bespectacled older man at his side.

“Doctor?”

As the man nearly approaches you again, you shoot him a warning glare. You refuse to be poked and prodded once more. Lifting his hands, the man falls back.

He adjusts the stethoscope around his neck.

“I see nothing wrong,” he says. Your shoulders sag in relief. “Still, I’d recommend that your wife takes it easy, sir.”

His words make every hair on your skin stand on end.

“I’m not his wife,” you snap.

Coriolanus’ jaw ticks. 

He turns to the others and instructs, “Everyone, leave us alone.”

There’s a flicker of hesitation on Tigris’ face. She lingers at your doorstep after Grandma’am and the doctor take their leave.

“Are you really sure that you’re okay?” she asks.

You purse your lips. “I’d feel better if everyone stopped fussing over me.”

She nods before leaving as well.

As soon as the door to your bedroom closes, Coriolanus sinks to one knee in front of you. He takes your hands in his, his thumbs brushing circles into your skin.

His cobalt eyes are wide and worried.

“Is something wrong?”

Your stomach knots. “Coriolanus…”

“Yes?”

You draw your hands back, placing them on your lap. His gaze tracks the tiny motion and he squints. 

“That night…” You lick your lips, nerves flaring as your fingers bounce. Just these two words have Coriolanus’ attention on you sharpen in a way that turns your blood to ice. Still you gather your courage and continue, “Did I say no at any point, tried to…stop it? Did…Did you, Coryo?”

The moment your doubts are uttered aloud, you loathe yourself. It’s an awful thing to even suggest. But you can't shake the feeling that there is something Coriolanus isn’t telling you. 

And maybe you always felt that way, like something isn’t quite right, but you craved so badly to have a piece of your brother near that you ignored the glaring signs. 

Shock paints Coriolanus’ handsome face.

“What? I already told you everything that happened, that I was drunk, we both were.”

You peer at Coriolanus. It hurts. So goddamn much. A knife twisting in your chest, again and again. Especially that look of utter betrayal on his face. You don’t want to casually toss those kinds of accusations at your friend. 

But your mind…

It’s bursting at the seams, moments you’re beginning to recall seeping through the cracks. You can’t ignore that. Not the sick echo of Coriolanus’ lustful tone. Not the terrifying glint swaying in his blue eyes. Not the way he panted and grunted above you as you told him to stop. Or at least you think you told him?

You’re not even sure. You’re torn. Coriolanus wouldn’t do that…right? Someone you trust. Someone Sejanus trusted…with you.

Tears swell in your eyes, threatening to break past the confine of your lashes.

Anger flashes in Coriolanus’ eyes. “Really?” he scoffs, bolting to his feet. “You don’t trust me?”

He blurs in your tear-stained vision, distorting to hazy colors you don’t recognize anymore.

“Coryo…” you sob.

He hunkers in front of you again. The anger vanishes, making space for disappointment and sadness.

He cradles your face, his tone softening.

“I would never hurt you,” he mumbles. “How could you even imply…after everything I’ve done for you.”

A shaky breath flutters through your lips. You search Coriolanus’ face, hoping to find something. A truth, an emotion, a lie. Anything, really. Any proof that you’re not crazy, that your mind isn’t just spinning wild stories out of thin air.

Nothing comes up. Coriolanus’ face is a perfect mask of genuine concern and sincerity, right down to his glistening gaze. Doubts even begin to creep inside you beneath his intense stare. 

But the longer you look into his eyes, the more unnerved you grow. 

Something is off. No one can convince you otherwise. Not anymore.

Goosebumps erupt all over your skin.

“I-I think I need to go home now, Coriolanus.”

You don’t want to be here anymore, in this house you don’t know, with this man…you’re beginning to realize you don’t know either.

You want to be back home, your real home. You crave the safety of your own bed, of Ma’s warm embrace, of the familiar walls of your childhood home.

Instead of acknowledging what you just said, Coriolanus flashes you a bright grin.

“We can discuss it tomorrow.”

A sinking feeling spreads through you. You frown.

“But Coryo-”

He leans to place a tender kiss on your forehead and you freeze. Every cell in your body longs to flinch away from him but gut-gripping fear keeps you in your spot.

“Tomorrow, princess,” he whispers. He fondles your cheek. You can’t tamp down your shudder. Coriolanus’ brow pinches as he gets to his feet. “It’s getting late. You should go to bed.”

Coriolanus heads for the door. 

“Sweet dreams,” he coos, smiling. But it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

When the door slams shut, a sound you never heard before echoes from outside. The sound of a key slotting and turning inside a lock. The kind of sound suggesting you’re now trapped in the room.

Your gut sinks.

You find yourself wondering; will tomorrow ever come?

[silme-lorien]

hi everyone, @frodosrings and I are so excited to announce our new event…

SAMFRO SUMMER!

This event will be running for TEN DAYS, July 1st-10th! Each day will have a theme to follow, and you can create fanfiction, fanart, or any other kind of creative project! In order to keep all these lovely works together, please use the hashtag #samfrosummer !

here are the themes!

Day 1: Large Gatherings / Festivities

examples/prompts:

county fair, carnival, summer festival, backyard parties, cultural celebrations, weddings, party time, meeting family

Day 2: Sun / Heat

examples/prompts:

solstice, freckles, sunburn, tanned skin, sweat, blinding lights, searching for shade, sunrise/sunset, glowing, ethereal, wind/breeze 

Day 3: Nature / Wilderness 

examples/prompts:

camping trip, hiking, bonfire, wildflowers, stargazing, shapes in the clouds, grass beneath your feet, mountains, wildlife, storms

Day 4: Rebirth, Regrowth, Rejuvenation

examples/prompts:

finding yourself, family, change of seasons, trying something new/trying again, refreshing love, planting the seeds

Day 5: Snacks & Refreshments 

examples/prompts:

lemonade stand, ice cream, picnic, barbeque, cooking together, picnic, picking berries, come over for a meal, farmers market

Day 6: Summer Pastimes 

examples/prompts:

reading a book, lazy mornings, going for a walk, hammock, summer routines, boredom, domesticity, loving in secret

Day 7: Water / Beach

examples/prompts:

beach day, swimming, tanning, in the sand, cooling off, lakes/rivers, cool bath, waterfalls, a quick dip, skipping stones

Day 8: Games & Creativity 

examples/prompts:

board/card games, art, writing, muse, sports, sculpt, gifts, scrapbook, paint, teaching the rules, having fun, crafting, sewing

Day 9: Hard Work

examples/prompts:

yard work, gardening, building something, rekindling, getting out of your comfort zone, chores/housework, making up

Day 10: Wildcard  

examples/prompts:

it’s a wildcard!! create something for a summer prompt we haven’t covered OR go back and do a prompt you couldn’t get to / had more than one idea for :)

here are the rules !!

-you can choose any of the examples below the main themes, or if you have a different idea for the theme you can absolutely do that! please just try to stick to the daily themes :)

-along those lines, please try to post works that are under a certain theme ON THAT DAY!

-again, if you're posting your work here, please use the hashtag #samfrosummer so that we can keep them together and easily accessible <3

-you can create works that are in universe, canon divergent, or in a completely different universe! be creative!!

-support other authors /artists participating in the event by reblogging and liking!

-NO discourse, hating, or any other unsavory activities of that nature

-properly tag any NSFW or triggering topics that may be present in your work :)

do you have any questions? please send an ask to either myself or @frodosrings <3

have fun!

[s-4pphics]

dial. 5 (e.w.)

wc;cw: 3.9k, fratadjacent!ellie, all ocs r black coded<3, angst, weed, nun crazy… yet😝😝😝😝

SEVEN MONTHS LATER 

You’re finally a fucking senior! Joy to the queer world! 

After barely surviving your last term due to heartbreak and an intense depressive episode, the future ahead of you brightened the second you stepped into your aunt's home. Your summer was the highlight of your year… maybe even your life. What had you done in your past life to be blessed with such an amazing auntie? 

She took you any and everywhere you wanted to go. You never imagined Iceland would be the home country you wished to be born in. The mountains, the bright green grass, the fucking waterfalls you only dreamt of diving into. You became a mermaid the second you and Niah jumped into the Reykjadalur River. 

Every fiber of your being rejuvenated after your much needed break, and you were ready to get through your last year without chips on your shoulder. Fuck everyone from your past!

Moving in was always the worst part of the year. As much as you loved decorating, you never fully threw yourself into it until your third week on campus. Your fairy lights would have to sit in their box until you got your schedule in order. 

You and Niah trekked back and forth from your dorm to your auntie’s truck, hauling in box after box until your arms burned. Your back was already killing you. 

“Fucking son of a bitch— “

You interrupted Niah’s exhausted exclamations, “Swear ja— “

“Bitch, fuck you! I'm grown!” She dropped the last box near your work desk before slumping onto your chair. 

“Alright, my loves!” Your aunt entered your shared room with bags of new bedding. “This is the last of it. Need help making your bed?” 

You blankly stared at your aunt, and she smiled slyly, “Don’t look at me like that! You’re my baby!” 

You shook your head, snagging the neatly wrapped blankets from her hands, tossing them to the floor and engulfing her in the tightest hug you could muster. 

“I love you,” you mumbled into her shoulder. 

“I love you, baby. You’re almost done, you got this,” she kissed your cheek a dozen times before pulling back to plant more on your forehead. And nose. 

“Want me t’walk you out?” 

“I got it. Unpack and get comfy. I’ll see you in a couple months, okay?” She bopped your nose and you nodded, embracing her one last time before seeing her out. Niah gave her a goodbye hug and watched her dodge exhausted bodies down the hallway. 

Niah helped you set up your mattress topper and stuffed your pillow cases before your phone vibrated in your pocket. 

“Dina’s having din-din downstairs in a feeew,” you sing-songed, “Come with us?” You gave Niah the best puppy dog eyes you could muster, her lips pursing as she glared at you. 

“Girl… Y’all always wanna do shit when I’m fucking tired— “

“Pleeease.”

She sighed heavily before conceding, “If that bitch show up, I swear to god— “

“Dina wouldn’t let that happen,” you defended. 

“Oh, she wouldn’t? Really?” Niah scowled. 

“Stop,” you huffed in agitation, “Nothing that happened was her fault. She did what she could at the time.” 

Niah and Dina never explained to you why their relationship rifted, but you could only assume that it was due to you and Ellie falling out. They haven’t spoken since the beginning of summer, according to Niah, and it upset you greatly. You all used to fall asleep on the phone together every night during your scheduled breaks, and now you were hesitant to have them in the same room. 

You were never against Dina and Ellie being friends, even after she blew up on you; They grew up right next to each other, for fucks sake! They’ve always had a strong bond, and not even Dina’s loyalty to you would ruin that. Niah would just have to understand. 

Your best friend rolled her eyes, but dropped the tensity in her shoulders. 

“I’m not eating.” 

You pouted. 

“I don’t care about that,” she pointed at your stuck-out lip, “Get my purse.” 

The booth you shared with your friends in the dining hall was tense. 

You awkwardly forked your pasta while Niah and Dina stared at each other. You didn’t notice any hatred in their gaze, but the fire was there without a doubt. 

This was the worst dinner ever. 

“Sooo…” you twirled your noodles, “How was your summer, Dee!” 

“Fine.” 

Your bright smile dropped at her empty response, but you tried again. 

“Cool! Did anything exciting happen? I saw you and Jess traveled a bit!”

“We did.” 

Your eyes flickered between your two friends, their eyes distant. 

“Guys, c’mon! This is so stupid!” You nearly threw your fork on your plate. “Why are y’all even mad at each othe— “

“I’m not fucking mad— “

“Ask her that— “

Both friends brushed you off in their fit of rambles, and you exploded. 

“CAN Y’ALL STOP!” 

Neighboring students began to stare at all three of you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

“I don’t fucking care about Ellie anymore! I’m over it! It’s a new fucking year and I wanna move on, but I can’t if y’all keep bringing it up every time you see each other!” Niah tried to interrupt, but you cut her off with a stern finger. 

“I know why you’re mad and I appreciate you for caring, but Dina didn’t do anything wrong! You’re taking your anger out on the wrong person!” You took some breaths through your nose to calm yourself.

“I don't wanna see y’all fighting over this bullshit anymore. I mean it! Or we’re…” you looked between them with a harsh glare. “We’re gonna have a problem.” 

Moments of thick silence passed before you heard a gentle snicker. Followed by a snort. 

Boisterous laughter escaped both your friends while you stared in confusion. 

“What’s so funny?” 

Niah clapped her hands in hysteria. 

“Who the fuck are you tryna intimidate— “

“She pulls one little prank and suddenly her balls dropped. How cute! —“

Your head jerked in Dina’s direction, “Wait—” 

“Oh! You thought I didn’t know about that shit? Seriously?” Dina wiped away tears, “You’re nasty, by the way.” 

Heat washed over your entire body at her smirk and arched brow, “My baby’s a fucking freak! Who woulda thought.” 

Niah muttered whores around her straw with a shake of her head. 

“… You still got the vid, or.” 

“DINA!” 

More laughter erupted from your table, and your arms folded across your chest. Dina’s hand met Niah’s from across the table in a high five. 

“She does still have it, not gon’ lie— “

“SHUT UP, NIAH!” 

The second Ellie saw you, Niah, and Dina laughing through the windows of the canteen, she hit the fastest fucking U-turn of the century. Her appetite dissipated in an instant and she booked it towards the parking lot and into her car. 

She hated the physical reaction that took over her body whenever she saw you, the only thought on her mind being run, run, run. 

After her last… encounter with you and fucking Abby, she made a request to move to the complete opposite side of campus. She packed all her belongings and was out of her and Jesse’s shared place in the nick of time, surrounded by faces she wasn’t used to. The thought of switching schools raced through her mind days after it happened, but when she realized that you hadn’t had plans to broadcast your porno across the campus’ Snapchat, she was at ease.

At least for a little bit. 

Telling Dina and Jesse was, by far, one of the worst parts of this whole experience. 

She hadn’t mustered up the courage to do it until two months later when Abby brushed past her with a mere nod of acknowledgment at a house party. Her hazy mind thought that coming clean would erase some of the guilt she felt, but it was all for naught. 

All she got was a theoretical pie thrown at her face when both her best friends' exploded into the biggest laughing fit, she’d ever seen from them. They knew she deserved all the smoke she got from you and Abby after everything she did, and despite her attempts at being prideful, she knew she did too. 

You never came along when Ellie was around for the remainder of the term, and she didn’t know whether to be thankful or full of fucking shame. It became a bit of both overtime. 

She’d only seen you once after the sextape fiasco. It was during move-out week: your face was droopy and tired—probably due to finals— as you and your family hauled box after box into a truck. 

Ellie hadn’t had a reaction to anyone like that since her first fucking girlfriend. The sweaty hands, the swirls in her tummy, the jitters of her fingers. It all came back to her and she wanted to vomit. 

Looking as cuddly as you did that day shouldn’t be allowed. Ellie knew she didn’t deserve a hug from you, but she allowed her imagination to take over anyway, her subconscious completely engulfed by your scent and forgiveness. 

Ellie’s head rested on her steering wheel, her head banging against it and accidentally sounding the horn. 

Ellie’s never been in a relationship with someone who wasn’t selfish. She allowed people to take and take and take so much from her in the past, gladly accepting their overstepping and lack of boundaries if it meant she received their affection. It went on for so long until it abruptly halted and left her destroyed and alone. Her heart iced over after her last relationship went up in flames, and she vowed to keep it that way. If there’s no love, there’s no heartbreak. 

She thought she could do that to someone else. Prey on someone as sweet and comforting as you. 

But it didn’t work. You fucking cracked her. You’re a witch, and your pussy is godsent. 

Ellie brought out that side of you and she regretted it (despite the jerks in her clit every time she reminisced about your glittery tears), and she owed you the most respectable apology she’s ever given.

Ellie reached into her hoodie pocket and pulled up her phone, messages filled with students asking if she’s around to sell. She ignored them all and searched for your contact that she selfishly never deleted. 

Her thumb hovered over the unblock button. 

Ellie’s heart is racing and she thinks she might pass out. 

She got used to hearing the small ding from the bell of the Starbucks entrance that she hardly ever looks up at who’s waltzing in. 

When she heard you and your best friend’s laughter, she almost dropped to the floor to hide behind the service counter. She was not fucking prepared to see you. Nausea and butterflies stirred in her gut at the sound of your giggles. 

H-Have a good day, she cringed when her voice cracked, scribbling the customer's names on their cup before passing it down to the mixing station. 

The minutes that passed felt like years, endless seconds of anticipation of seeing you face to face for the first time in months. Her eyes scattered to the end of the lines where the two of you stood every two seconds, observing how you inched up the line. 

Until the two of you stood in front of her, Niah’s intense glare searing through her skin and shaking her bones. She shakily asked for both your orders, but you took over, answering for you and your roommate with your classic smile. You’re too sweet for your own good; She couldn’t imagine being this cordial in public with someone who did what she did. Said what she said. 

You looked fucking adorable: hair twisted, dangly earrings, glossy lips. Her hands wouldn’t stop as she scribbled your name on your cup and cake pop baggie. 

Niah was fucking grilling her, and rightfully so. Ellie’s shocked she didn’t reach over and strangle her with her bare hands. Her presence was a threat on its own, Jesus Christ. 

You swiped your student ID and yanked a stiff Niah by the arm over to the pick-up line, the wind sitting in Ellie’s lungs finally releasing. 

She peered over at the two of you as she collected the rest of the orders from caffeine-withdrawal students, anxiety pitting in her gut when she watched you snag your cup and bag, reading the messy scribbles she left at the bottom.  

hi. can we talk when you’re ready?

You had enough courtesy to hide the baggie from an already pissed Niah, and she was grateful. It gave her an inkling of hope before you frowned, your eyes surprised, then confused. Then angry. 

Ellie almost cried at the scoff that left your mouth when you shot her a pissed glare, before you snatched your dessert from its encasing, crumpled the paper and threw it into the trash by the exit. She watched the two of you leave with a heavy heart, embarrassment overtaking her when you refused to look back. 

Ellie couldn’t shake the feeling that you experienced this same disappointment whenever she shut you down previously, and it made her feel even worse. 

Ellie started seeing you everywhere you went after that: in the quad, on the way to class, even in the fucking library (a place she never went!), but you never seemed to notice her. She hadn’t been in the study center since she was a fucking sophomore, and she instantly remembered why when she caught a glimpse of you in your own world, headphones on as you scribbled down your notes. 

Remorse flooded her gut when she remembered the time, she dismissed your proposal of listening to a playlist you made for her a couple days after you fucked a couple times. She didn’t even know what artists you liked. 

Even after all this time, she refused to forget all the times she upset you, intentionally or not. 

The twisted part of her brain was already prepared to march over and speak with you, but she had enough sense to overpower her selfish desires. 

She managed to get past you without hassle, rushing onto the elevator to find her usual spot in the second-floor corner. It was her safe place whenever she came in here; She’ll never forget when she and Dina tripped balls atop the beanbags pressed up against the window. 

Going to the library was pointless; The thought of you and your sprinkled cupcakes dominated her mind for the rest of her study session. 

It was the best part of the entire year. 

The month of October has its own presence: it’s grand and dark, gloomy, fun. Evil. You would never wear bright orange on a normal day, but during October, you might as well be a pumpkin! 

All your friends were already in the Halloween spirit, baking and decorating some of the strongest edibles you’ve ever smelt in your damn life. You were shocked that none of Jesse’s neighbors called to complain about the loud scent. 

“You wanna hit?” 

You peered up at Abby’s invitation puff from her blunt with a polite smile and a shake of your head, “You know I have to drive that one home,” You pointed out an already wobbling Niah in the kitchen. 

Abby chuckled around her next puff, “They’re gonna go fucking crazy with those.” 

“I’m scared,” You huffed, “Niah literally turns into a fucking potato when she’s high. I can never get her to move anywhere.” 

Abby giggled at your eye roll while she ashed. 

Running into Abby after what happened last year was much different than you expected. 

After you two went your separate ways at the party, you assumed she would never want to see you again, blow off any invitations you had to hang out, go back to fucking Ellie like nothing happened, but she did nothing of the sort. 

She always waved you over when she saw you sitting by yourself, greeted you with the brightest smiles and warmest hugs, texted you first. She was everything you could’ve wanted from someone. From a partner. 

So why didn’t you feel that spark whenever she looked at you with those pretty, blue eyes? 

You could always be honest with Abby, so bringing up your predicament was easy. She took it with a grain of salt and told you not to worry because she’s still a whore. It’s college! Her energy always calmed you. 

Niah’s weight plopping down next to you broke your trance. She slumped onto your shoulder with a weak giggle of it’s October 3rd. 

You stared down at her blankly, “It’s the tenth, bonehead— “

“Shhh, shh, i-it’s October 3rd,” she sloppily pressed her index finger to your mouth. 

Abby’s laughter rang from next to you like bells in winter. 

Ellie was… sad. And felt like a fucking loser. 

She’d been lazily lying on her couch with her dab in hand, scrolling through Instagram and watching 5-minute crafts when she received a notification from Dina. 

She felt a subtle crack in her chest when she saw her best friend caption the post the ‘best time of the year 👻’. She was dawned in her usual witch's hat while Jesse had a pumpkin carving imprinted on his shirt, both decorating what she assumed to be laced sugar cookies. 

Her heart shattered when she scrolled through the slides and saw pictures of a slumped Niah, Abby with her tongue out and middle finger up, and you, eyes gentle and smile doll-like with two peace signs by your face. You looked so cozy under the yellow glow of the decorative lamp. So comfortable in the place she used to call home. 

… She’s never not received an invite to decorate edibles. Why was a lump growing in her throat? Her high was fucked. 

Another notification from Jesse’s Snap highlighted across the top of her screen. Her thumb tapped it without hesitation, and some tears fell from her eyes to her cheeks. 

It was a clip of you, Dina, and Jesse squeezing out icing from a tube onto a loudly snoring Niah’s face, snickering softly when the traces of sugar didn’t go where you wanted. 

Stick it up her nose!

Ellie’s body tensed when she recognized Abby’s low whisper in the background. That was definitely the final nail in her coffin. 

The Snap ended with Niah’s eyes peeling open like a zombie and your heavenly laughter. 

Ellie dropped her phone and sat up, resting her head atop the back of the couch, palms digging into her teary eyes. She tried to convince herself that she was angry, pissed the fuck off, ready to fight everybody, even her closest friends. But she wasn’t at all. 

She was lonely and sad, and no one was there to comfort her. 

Class dragged on the entire week leading up to Halloweekend. 

Your shoulders were heavy and slumped from exhaustion. What kind of professor assigns projects the week before Halloween? They’re pretending as if they’ve never been students before; They know you’re all getting faded soon! 

You and Niah were grinding in the library the entire week, perfecting your papers and presentations for the following week. You didn’t want anything to ruin this weekend. Distractions, be gone! 

You’ve dedicated a couple hours each day to prepping your costumes for Friday and Saturday. The excitement to adorn your fairy getup was nearly bursting through your eyes. You decorated your wings with sequins and glitter, made your own flower crown, and designed your own spirit guide by snipping and re-stuffing a Squishmallow. 

You were a little too antsy to start the weekend; Niah almost called Dina to help tape you down to a chair. 

You bolted down the crosswalk after your scheduled library visit, a bright grin on your face at the thought of showcasing your designs for your costume. Dina and Jesse are your best critics. 

You turned the corner and hit a hard chest, almost falling to the floor before a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist. 

“Lookin’ for rings?” 

Your smile widened at the all too familiar voice, “What does that mean?” 

Abby separated from you with a gentle smile, pointing at your sky-blue sweatshirt, “Blue sweater… running… Sonic— “

“Oh fuck!” You paused before a lightbulb appeared atop your head. “Oh fuck! Sonic would’ve been such a cute costume— “

“Still stressing Niah out?” Her brow arched. 

“Of course! Dina and Jes are about t’get the same treatment!” You rushed past Abby, throwing her a wild wave, “I'll see you on Friday bitch!”

Her airy laugh aired behind you before you eased past departing students and into the apartment lobby. 

It’s almost impressive how much your mood can deplete due to one person. 

You instantly recognized Ellie’s back muscles over her muscle-tee, her tattoo sleeve completely exposed as she murmured to the receptionist. The bun at the back of her head was coming loose with each nod of approval she gave. 

Anger and embarrassment and sadness battled for power in your gut as you glared through her skin and down to her bones. And she must’ve felt it.

She spun at the sound of the door shutting, and her eyes immediately glossed over when they locked with yours. She looked like a deer caught in headlights before she whispered hey.

You ignored and looked behind her and greeted the familiar receptionist, “Hey, is Jesse home?” 

“Yeah, babe! You just missed him— “

“W-Wait— “

“Cool, thanks,” You didn’t hesitate to book it for the second entrance, Ellie’s urgent calls of your name ringing behind you. You heard her following you down the hall like a horse. 

She called your name out louder, “Fuck, wait, wait— “

You frantically pressed the up button on the elevator but it was for naught. 

You felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, “Hey— “

“Ellie, don’t fuckin’ touch me, I’m serious,” you spat. 

Her touch dropped, her hands raising in the air, “Okay, okay, I’m sorr— “

“You’re sorry? Really?” You scoffed. “Fuck off, bro.” 

… Where the fuck was this elevator?! You were this close to holding the button down until the doors opened. 

Ellie sighed, “No, I’ve… I've been meaning to talk to you. Can I— “

“I don’t give a fuck about anything you’re saying, genuinely,” You harshly turned to glare into her eyes. Her gorgeous, green eyes that, for the first time, seemed so soft for you. Desperate, and not lustful. 

She didn’t seem to care about your protests, “I know I fucked up and I was… awful— “

The dings sounding from the elevator sounded like alarms. 

“Ellie, please, I’m begging you, just leave me the fuck alone,” Rageful tears flooded in your eyes. “Get the fuck away from me! Just g-go away!” 

Ellie’s small glimmer of hope died in her orbs, her body flinching at your tone as she peered to the floor with red cheeks. 

The doors peeled open after what seemed like a lifetime and you threw yourself between them, slamming the fourth-floor button like your life depended on it. You refused to look at Ellie as the doors shut, your heart pounding in your chest as you heaved, your hands resting on your knees. 

You vowed that absolutely nothing could ruin your weekend, but why was Ellie’s flushed cheeks and sniffly nose almost enough to make you fold? 

Almost. 

okkkaaaaayyyyy im switching shit up fr so excited to write the next part stay with me yall lemme cook lemme coooook

taggie waggies love yall down :3 @dyk3ang3l @iced-metal @sawaagyapong @kittnii @mariefilms @villainousbear @pick-me-up-im-scared @dragonasflowercrown @elsmissingfingers @bugaboodarling @freakumfilm @robinismywifee @ohitsjordynn @womenofarcane @inf3ct3dd @nil-eena @kaispaws @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @yuckyfucky @machetegirl109 @ximtiredx @mattm1964 @liabadoobee @tfuuka @aouiaa @lastofvenus @iove-bbb

teaser, one, two, three, four

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[the-dixon-effect]

you are the river of light, that i cling to in the empty night

a/n: im back whores

You thumbed the copper pendant daintily hanging from your neck, a little bronze sun - a testament to how much Daryl loved you before you even knew. You were Daryl's sun, the light that sustained all life, all good. Though he wouldn't say it, this was his way of telling you. Years later, your shared apartment in the commonwealth, however dreary, was the home that you had been longing for ever since the fall. Decorated with antique lamps and watercolours and soft music pouring out of the vintage record player in the corner of the room, time seemed to slow and warp when you spent your evenings with the man you loved so. Perched on the kitchen counter, you eagerly waited for him to return home.

Daryl's new job as a commonwealth soldier felt taxing to him - though he never complained in fear of boring or scaring you. Home was his sacred place; cooking, laughing, drinking, loving, a place where he could escape the past and present. The future was you, and however tempestuous and unstable life proved to be these days, you were his constant. In fear of seeming poetic, he kept his thoughts about you to himself, however badly he wanted to tell the world. Your touch was medicine, your love was rejuvenating.

As he entered, you whistled at his arrival and jumped to greet your man.

"Hey baby," he said, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in closer with a fistful of your hair. "Missed ya'," he moved a hand up to your cheek, adjusting your head so he could gaze into your sweet, loving eyes for a moment before moving in to kiss you with the passion of a starved man.

"And I waited for ya'," you flirted once pulling away. "Tell me 'bout your day, cause mine was boring as hell," you withdrew the embrace yet he pursued you towards the living room still holding your hand.

"Handled some rotters down the south fence, ya' know they can climb now?" you shivered, imagining Daryl surrounded by hungry walkers, all day, every day thanks to Pamela Milton and Michael Mercer, the ones that decided he needed to be here. Of course it was admriable, putting his life on the line every day, but for a government that doesn't even know his name? If you could convince him to stay in bed each morning, away from the danger, you could be ever satisfied knowing he would only exist in your arms. "Wha's wrong?" you must have frowned without answering, because he now pulled you over his thighs and held you firmly, not wanting to let you go.

You only hummed, afraid to meet his eyes covered by those chocolate bangs. "I want you... here. If somethin' happened to you out there-"

"Baby, ya' know it won't. 'M sorry," he spoke softly into your neck, gently rubbing your thighs with tenderness much unlike the stoic soldier known to you and your friends. "I love ya', I ain't givin' that up,"

"Don't try to be heroic. Don't be the person that's gotta save the day. If somethin' goes wrong, just run. Please.. promise for me," you held eye contact, stroking your fingers through his tangled tresses.

"Promise."