#apothecary night lord

[kit-williams]

Pastel Bats

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

There were pastel bats upon the walls... this was your new home as you looked down at the infant drinking from the bottle. The room was bright with soft yellow walls and cute looking animals painted upon them. Your humming paused for only a moment and you swear you can hear a distant scream. You look to the large door. You were well fed... you were safe in the nursery... and that was alright. "Such a big boy you are Amir." You coo down to the grey eyed baby.

How a gummy smile is around the teat of the bottle as he slams his little feet against the padded floor of the playpen. No longer content on being contained by any sort of bed for a less active baby... no no the small boy had decided that standing was fun and had taken one to many tumbles on his head meaning he had to go see the doctor.

His eyes still wet from his most recent crying fit as he was a needy little thing with such big demands who liked bananas and didn't like green beans... he wanted to be held to fall asleep... and... you just find yourself holding the little boy with the odd growths on his skin... his mouth hurting because he's teething... and he still growing. You just sigh picking up the impatient to grow up little man to go see the doctor.

You watch Anrir Nor work as the two servo skulls fluttered about... one above Amir just out of reach of his grabby little hands trying to pull on the cabling and thrash it around when he does succeed making the cutes little gurgles. The other keeping notes as you watch the robotic limbs on his back move to grab things or seem to move in an almost behavioral tick.

"Any worrying things you'd like to bring up today." He says akin to how a pediatrician would ask you wonder if he says it on purpose or is simply saying it to make fun of you.

"He's scratching a bit and causing cuts but... other wise it's fine."

You watch him sit Amir up as he listens to his hearts. His eyes closing as he listens. "The scratching is from the subdermal growth of black carapace so its normal." He says with medical precision.

----

That was weeks ago... as you lay in the playpen that you laid with Amir as you and the others here followed protocol and the kids were asleep... they just fell asleep so quickly... it didn't work on you. You had to sing to Amir to get him to settle in his little pod to let whatever was in there to work on him.

There are pastel bats upon the walls... food's run out and the door is locked so tightly as there was a pressure leak outside of this safe haven in hell. You were all going to starve to death looking at the pastel animals upon the walls....

----

"His egg doner died today." Anrir says muttering softly as he continues to check over Amir and give him his shots.

"Oh that's not... good?" You say unuse to him talking to you.

"Yes... but you seem to like Amir so how about a proposition?" He says and you see the wickedness of his grin and all you could think to say was...

"What is the offer?"

----

You killed someone today... he was trying to break one of the pods. You had enough strength to do something about it. You wandered over to Amir's pod to sing to him... ignoring the way how someone... or some others were shamelessly ripping into the body... you sang to him to drown out the sounds... you sang to him as someone came by with cooked meat... and bought into the lie of them finding some... it gave you enough strength to draw... and all your numb mind could draw were those damned pastel bats...

----

"What if I just tell you what you'll get out of it?" Anrir says which that dangerous purr... you shifted as you had learned... or well it was a rumor that this man was also the head of the warband you found yourself in service to. You watch him brush some of that silky black hair behind his ear. "You may talk freely if you need to hear me say that."

"I mean I'd like to hear that too but what do you want from me?"

"Your body my dear."

----

You stopped leaving Amir's side as you hardly had any strength left to do so... you were being fed enough to stay alive... just barely. Someone came by to say that there were people outside and it might be a few more days before they could leave... that or they could just be telling you how you were next to be eaten... you didn't know any more.

----

He told you what he wanted with medical precision as you feel the marker tip tickling your skin and the metal appendages on his back caging you in. But you'd get better rations... you'd get better things... better treatment... it was all very tempting... all for the low low price of your body.

"Why... what do you get out of this?" You ask the black eyed man who looked surprised you even asked.

"Do you want the long answer or the the short answer?"

You broke eye contact with him for a moment as you thought before speaking, "Long?"

"The short version of the long answer is... I'm tired of watching the legion that I love fall apart via treachery and cowardness. Your corpse emperor isn't the answer but neither is the Four. And loyalty is a fickle thing..."

"So you're raising those who would be loyal to you?"

He grinned so wickedly, "Smart girl. Plus I can instill them the meaning of the legion! While fixing a few things that... lets say our environment was lacking at crucial stages of development."

"Giving them something you lacked?"

"Exactly."

"Didn't know childhood development was part of your education."

"Its not I ordained myself to learn it after I decided to say 'fuck it' to my last warband. So... what do you say?"

----

You should have said yes... you think as you stare at the sleeping little boy... the only thing you latched onto in this hell that you were dragged into screaming. Given a baby boy to keep alive and told your survival was tied to his development.

The boom of the bolter causes you to jump as you feel something splatter against your back as red paints the glass of the pods and you struggle to sit up. You see the midnight blue armor something different from the soft pastels around.

"Aww you left a list of his likes." The skull faced mask looks down at you with glowing red eyes. "But did you think of my offer dear?"

You try to say something which causes him to lean in before picking you up and hearing you whisper. "Yes"

#warhammer 40k #night lords #infants #Zhur is an evil genius #his breakthrough is very good for those who have aspirations for the old ways #apothecary #apothecary night lord #This was suppose to be normal horror #but it veered into yandere #I think its yandere #I wrote this at midnight and I need to be in bed for work tomorrow #Oc: Amir #oc: anrir nor #space marines

[wh40kartwork]

Apothecary / Night Lord Vs Necron

by Márton Kapoli

#chaos #necrons #battle #space marines #heretic astartes #night lords #apothecary #necron lord #warhammer #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #40k #marton kapoli #servo skull

[constellationswh40kau]

Surprise Addition!

So most of you guys know that there's been a really bad outbreak of Flesh Change going round lately and that Thousand Sons are super super susceptible, which resulted in one of my little buddies catching it.

Losing Casmekh was super hard even if he was a little shit at times so I just want to thank everyone for their support.

Jasteel is still in isolation and is still clean, but losing Casmekh hit him hard especially since he's of the Apothecary variant. Poor guy's been off his food and crying at all hours of the night.

Then, well, I woke up one morning to a Night Lord perched on my curtain rail.

I don't own a Night Lord. Well, I do now!

He looked feral, and nobody's reported one missing, so I got my gardening gloves and a broom and basket...and utterly failed to catch him. He's a speedy little fucker and stays up high.

I only managed to catch him when I found him in the room I'm isolating Jasteel in, eating Jasteel's honey and dates(I know I know, but honey and dates are Jasteel's favourite treats and like I said he's been refusing food so I thought better he eat treats than nothing at all).

Funnily enough, Jasteel was very calm around the intruder, and was even 'checking' him. Which for those who don't know is an Apothecary Variant thing where they assess the health of Astartes around them(it is NOT a packbonding thing like it is for Scout Sergeants and new parents).

And, the Night Lord was completely calm about being checked out? I got him into a carrier ready to be checked out at the vet anyway but I think they've just really hit it off? Jasteel I can understand, he's lonely, but I've heard that Night Lord's are very picky about fellow Astartes? And even if they've bonded, Night Lords play very rough and I'm worried Jasteel won't be up for that?

My area unfortunately has a low tolerance for certain 'Violent Antisocial Breeds' which includes Night Lords, so there's no chance of a No-Kill Shelter.

I want to take the little guy in, particularly if he stays pretty friendly, but I'm used to Thousand Sons who are pretty low-maintenance, relatively, and aren't messy at all.

#Space marine husbandry #HoneyScar #Night Lords #stray Night Lord befriends grieving TSon Apothecary

[the-consortium]

Duco is beyond thrilled!

(I need this mini)

#warhammer #the consortium #Duco #Night Lords #Apothecary #Goose

[pollswithnogoals]

Let's find people from the same Fandom

#polls #random polls #tumblr polls #my polls #a poll a day #vote #dailyprompt #voting #please vote #fandom #star wars #lord of the rings #anne with an e #awae #our flag means death #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #fnaf #fnaf security breach #five nights at freddy's #bts #bts army #the apothecary diaries #dorama #kdrama #descendants of the sun #lol #league of legends

[tagedeszorns]

Could you draw Duco with his only friend/Lab assistant?

Here's the Night Lords-Apothecary and his goose.

Even if it isn't really his goose. This goose belongs to nobody. It's just some giant waterfowl prowling the crumbling halls of the Consortium's headquarters on Urum.

Convinced of its unchallenged right to reign it struts the deepest vaults and bloodiest laboratories.

If your best friend is a Night Lord (the goose knows nothing of this) you are surprisingly safe, even on Urum.

#warhammer #warhammer 40k #Night Lords #Apothecary #The Consortium #Requested Art

[1silentsiren1]

I continue to work on a peaceful AU, this time it's Orrin Valzen, the chief apothecary of the Night Lords. In this AU, he works as an anesthesiologist-resuscitator. His duties include anesthesia in operations, resuscitation and care for patients in severe conditions. I decided not to remove the augmentation from his face, it does not spoil him. Although the other Night Lords laughed at them, he remained quite handsome

#fun art #warhammer 40000 #40k #30k #night lords #Orrin Valzen #apothecary #au

[ariszed]

New OCs?? 👀 I love Galen's face, what chapter is he from? Also what's the deal with the apothecary??

hehe more like oc concepts that's existed for a while now but this meme finally made me draw their faces and think of names with psi-scribe :'D

Galen is an exiled Silver Skull! It's a custom in the chapter to get tattoos, and the more experienced members can only get face tattoos, so he was once well respected among his brothers. He was exiled because he questioned the authority of the Prognosticators of the chapter, the psyker-chaplains who hold a lot of power and decision making over nearly everything the chapter did, including battles. (Side note: we toyed with the idea of a Silver Skull exile in the warband, esp since they ally with Iron Warriors later, but reading the Gildar Rift certainly cemented concept in our heads <:'3)

And Apothecary Alcyon, well :] He has a sarcastic, dark sense of humor, and can be really sweet and caring if he likes you. And he has to be, especially when caring for newly joining exiles that are often mentally and physically broken. As a result, many warband members care for him. But other than that, he has a bloody reputation if you're on his bad side. An exiled Ultramarine who, along with his squad, plotted the assassination of another UM captain they disliked by killing him on his medical table and framed it as him succumbing to battle wounds. Alcyon was the only surviving conspirator who escaped the chapter's wrath. In the warband, Tacitus calls upon his knowledge of the body for more than just healing :]

#if you want even more of an idea about Alcyon's vibe #one of his exes is a Night Lord who keeps calling him back #zedtalks #not art #warhammer 40k ocs #the Warband #Galen #Apothecary Alcyon

[prythianpages]

A Field of Dandelions

azriel x witch!reader | Your High Lady calls upon you. requesting a remedy that only you know how to make. It requires specific ingredients found between the courts of spring and autumn and you're in need of an escort. Unfortunately for you, she assigns her Shadowsinger to accompany you. The Shadowsinger who hates you...or so you thought.

“Please don’t talk to me like that.”

“Why?”

“It’s cruel and heartless and you don’t even realize.”

warnings: angst but with fluff at the end, mentions of self-hate/abuse. pretty much Azriel thinking he's not worthy of a mate.

a/n: I've been re-reading the Shatter Me series and there's a scene between Aaron and Juliette that drove me to make this along with the song Dandelions by Ruth B. The dialogue above is directly from the book Unravel Me. I used them as a writing prompt along with the general gist of the scene and added my own twist to it. I just wanted to put that disclaimer out there.

**

The door opens before you can even knock and your dear friend and High Lady pulls you into a warm hug. She beckons you inside with a smile and your eyes dart around the various paintings adorning the walls, finding that some are new.

Surprise etches onto your features when your eyes land on the Night Court’s Spymaster. He stands at the end of one of the winding staircases with his usual stoic expression. Still as devastatingly handsome as always. You drop your gaze as quickly as you had met his and if he notices it, he doesn’t let it show. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge your presence.

Your ears pick up on faint crying. It grows louder and louder. Turning your head toward the source, your eyes land on Nyx. Despite being in the comfort of his father’s arms, his little features contort in pain. You greet your High Lord with a bow of your head, noticing the exhaustion on his face that mirrors Feyre’s.

“Is Mor on her way?” You ask, adjusting the strap of your bag. It’s full with all necessary tools and equipment you need for your venture.

Feyre had requested if you could make a tonic to sooth Nyx’s aches while he’s teething but your apothecary shop was unfortunately out of the main ingredient. Dandelion root. Not just any dandelion root but the ones that grow in the soil between the courts of Spring and Autumn and given the current tensions in Prythian and your status as a former Spring court inhabitant, it was not safe for you to go alone.

“Oh,” Feyre says as she takes the babe into her arms. You coo at Nyx and he blinks up at you, his crying coming to a stop. His lips tug up into a small smile and he wraps a tiny hand around your finger. “She is unfortunately caught up in Vallahan.”

“So then Cassian is to escort me today?” You ask again, looking up at your friend.

You catch the way she looks at Rhysand. They share a look and you know they’re communicating to each other through their mind. It’s Rhysand who answers you this time.

“Cassian isn’t fond of the spring, allergies and all.”

The Shadowsinger steps forward and your smile falls. You turn back to your friend, who gives you a sheepish smile in return.

“Azriel will be escorting you today.”

You almost want to say no. The thought of being alone with Azriel makes your stomach churn with unease and something else that you can’t quite discern at the moment. But Nyx begins to squirm in his mother’s arms with a pout and Feyre’s eyebrows knit in concern.

“Okay,” you sigh.

“Thank you so much for doing this,” Feyre says.

“Our son’s life is in your hands.”

Feyre slaps her husband’s arm with a roll of her eyes. “He’s not dying, Rhys,” she grumbles. “He’s just in some discomfort from teething.”

She then turns to Azriel with a stern look. The corner of her lips threatened to betray her. “Be nice.”

**

Azriel’s shadows envelop you both, whisking you away to the forest of the Spring Court. It was the safest of the two courts to winnow directly to. The air in the dense woods hangs heavy with the scent of blooming blossoms and you’re thankful for the muffled sounds of nature as it provides a soothing background noise, saving you from the awkward silence between you and the impassive Shadowsinger.

Azriel walks ahead, his movements graceful and quiet. His shadows cling to him like the loyal companions they are but some hover over your boots, silencing your own steps. 

He finally breaks the silence. “You’re staring.”

You shift your gaze immediately and wonder if he can also sense the pink that dusts your slightly flustered face. “I’m just surprised you’re the one escorting me,” you answer honestly.

“It’s not like I had much of a choice,” he responds cryptically.

A slight tension settles between you, your heartbeat quickening as you follow him through the forest. “Right,” you say, your face growing pinker.

You shift the weight of your bag to your other shoulder and Azriel comes to a sudden stop. He turns, his hazel eyes scanning you for a moment. Without a word, he takes the bag from your arm, effortlessly hoisting it over his shoulder. 

The unexpected gesture catches you off guard, and a quiet "thanks" escapes your lips. “You’re being awfully nice today,” you can’t help but observe, a mixture of surprise and curiosity in your tone “I think this is the most you’ve talked to me since we met.”

Azriel’s lips curve into an almost-smile. A rare sight that sends a flutter through your chest. “My High Lady told me to be nice.”

“Right,” you repeat quietly to yourself as you exhale, a futile effort to calm your fluttering nerves. It’s almost embarrassing the effect Azriel has on you and as the butterflies in your stomach stir, you hope that the rest of the day unfolds quickly.

**

Mates. Two individuals predestined to be together, brought together by unseen forces and an irresistible bond. Azriel once wondered if he had a mate but after centuries of living, he began to wonder if he was simply destined to be alone.

When his brothers found their mates and he still hadn’t found his, he started to think he was far beyond the reach of love. It was a blessing he could not have. He didn’t need a mate, so he convinced himself he didn’t want one. Romance was not part of his duties and he was starting to come to terms with the fact. 

That is, until, he met you.

Nestled right on the outskirts of the area known as the Rainbow of Velaris was a quaint shop. The wooden sign above, engraved with dark letters spelling out Nightrose Apothecary, swayed gently in the cool morning breeze. Azriel had ignored the frenzied whirlwind of his shadows as he stepped into the shop.

Shelves made of twisted vines and polished wood were neatly arranged with rows of glass jars containing colorful powders, dried herbs and exotic roots. A friendly black cat, lounging on the sunlit windowsill, blinked at him in greeting. As he stepped further into the shop, his senses became overwhelmed with the prominent scent of lavender and chamomile.

Behind a worn, wooden counter is where you stood. You hummed to yourself, immersed in the book in front of you. He found himself unable to take his eyes off of you as you skimmed over the rough edged pages, your fingertips carrying an enchanting green glow and eyes filled with darkness. 

You were a witch but it was no surprise to him. He had heard about you. You were a good friend of Feyre’s. One of the few people she could trust during her time in the Spring court. When the Spring Court fell into chaos, Feyre had brought you with her and helped you open up this shop.

His steps were silent and he’s sure you’re unaware of his presence, so he shifted, parting his mouth to speak–

“Hello, Shadowsinger.”

His steps faltered, eyes widening for a fleeting moment.

When you finally lifted your gaze to meet his, his eyes locked with yours and something deep within him awakened. An exhilarating feeling like no other. He felt light. He felt alive. And he was almost afraid to blink, not wanting the feeling to end.

His shadows peeked out from behind his limbs, curious to see what had their master in a chokehold. They dispersed from his body in a thrilled dance as the darkness left your eyes, revealing their natural color. They’re beautiful and sparkling with kindness, even as his shadows disobey his silent orders and slither up your arms in a cool greeting.

“I’m sorry,” he found himself apologizing, a slight tint in his cheeks. “They usually don’t do that.”

“It’s okay,” you brushed off his worry and he felt lightheaded and bewitched at the smile you directed toward him. “What brings you here?”

Azriel can’t help but feel that you already know why he’s there. He pulled his gaze away, choosing to focus on the crystal orbs on the counter instead. “My High Lady recommended I come to you. I’ve been having trouble…sleeping.”

The green glow returned to your fingertips as you beckoned a small clear vial from one of the shelves behind you. It’s filled with a silver liquid that glistened as it moved, mirroring the twinkle of the stars that light up the night sky.

“This should help.” You told him as you held out the vial to him. “Take a sip before you’re ready for bed and it should quickly pull you into a restful slumber. Some say it even brings forth sweet dreams.”

Azriel nodded his head, taking the small vial from you with a gloved hand. He stored it carefully into the chest pocket of his leathers. His hands then dug into the pockets of his pants but you held out a hand to stop him.

“It’s on the house.”

“But–”

“Any friend of Fey–the High Lady’s is a friend of mine.”

His throat tightened as he realized it’s time for him to leave and he doesn’t want to. He’s caught in a whirlwind of emotions and finds himself torn between hope and fear. Or maybe he fears what it means to be hopeful because for once in his life, he wants something.

He wants you. His mate.

But as he thanked you for your kind gesture, he realized that the bond must have not snapped for you as it had for him. So he reluctantly went on with his day and when the sky darkened and stars awakened, he took a sip from the small vial. He had the best sleep of his life that night and dreamt about you.

The next morning he asked Rhysand and Feyre about what he had experienced because he couldn’t believe it himself. They confirmed his suspicions and they were both delighted. Feyre even more so as you were her dear friend.  

She had taken it upon herself to bring you two together. Her first attempt was a family dinner. It was going well until Elain had spotted a spider and upon the small scream she let out, Nesta had rushed to kill it for her. Your distress was impossible to turn a blind eye to and Feyre quietly asked if you were alright.

“It didn’t need to die,” is all you quietly said, your eyes lined with silver.

Witches were one with nature and given your niche with herbs and creation, Azriel realized the depth of your admiration for all life that night. Then, another harrowing one. You were so innocent, so pure. He was guilty, hands tainted and stained red. He didn’t deserve you.

The Cauldron must’ve made a mistake.

Feyre was undeterred so she gave it another attempt, despite Azriel’s protest. She arranged a night out at Rita’s for the Inner Circle and invited you. Azriel didn’t plan on going but Rhysand had made sure his schedule was clear and when Feyre had sent him an image of you in a skin tight dress, he came as quickly as he could. 

But it was too late.

He arrived to find a high fae leaning toward you in interest and you were smiling at him. A smile Azriel wanted reserved just for him. The male had placed a hand at your waist and Azriel felt his stomach churn when you laughed at something he had said. A sound he wished to be the cause of. You seemed happy and who was he to stand in your way?

The male was everything Azriel was not. Blond, blue eyed and perfectly smooth hands–hands that were all over you and welcomed by you. He unconsciously hid his scarred hands behind his back and when your gaze met his across the room, he looked away. 

Azriel was not worthy of you. He didn’t deserve to have you as his mate. So he reminded himself that romance was not part of his duties and convinced himself that the Cauldron, had indeed, made a mistake. 

He couldn’t bear the thought of being just a friend to you. The mere idea pained him so much that he pushed you away. He didn’t return to your apothecary when he finished the vial you’d given him–not even when his nights became restless again and dark circles appeared beneath his eyes. When he’d see you walking along the streets of Velaris, he’d turn the other away and when you would visit Feyre and he was there, he’d find an excuse to leave.

But there was one thing he couldn’t shake off–the primal instinct to protect you. It was the least he could do for you as he felt indebted to you for the Cauldron’s mistake. 

So when he heard you needed an escort to the border between the Spring and Autumn courts, he was the first to volunteer, despite Mor and Cassian also offering.

**

It’s as if the ground beneath you comes to life in your presence. Birds fly over you, chirping and singing a beautiful melody. As you pass, buds blossom into beautiful flowers as if enchanted by you. Even the animals emerge from their hidden abodes. The squirrels playfully dart between branches while a family of deer gracefully emerges from the trees.

It becomes evident that nature itself is captivated by your presence. and it extends beyond nature, weaving its magic onto Azriel as well. It reaches into the very heart of the Shadowsinger, casting an enchanting spell that even he cannot escape.

A blue butterfly dances playfully around Azriel. It startles him, pulling him out of his trance and you can’t help the small laugh that escapes from you. You raise a finger and the butterfly lands on it softly.

“Hello, little one,” you coo softly. You turn to Azriel, holding out your finger to him. “Would you like to hold it?”

“No.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Are you scared of a butterfly?”

Azriel does not answer your question. Instead, his eyes dart around the forest that still stirs with liveliness around you. “What happened to keeping a low profile?”

“Sorry,” you apologize, even though it’s not your fault. The butterfly grants you one last flutter of its wings before gracefully flying away. “I can’t help but be admired by many.”

Azriel lets out a hum. You’re too distracted to pick up on the subtle resonance of agreement, your eyes widening as the meadow finally comes into view in the distance.

**

You inhale deeply, flooding your senses with the delicate fragrance surrounding you–a symphony of floral notes. Time seems to slow and your worries dissipate away as you kneel down, gently touching the soft sea of green, white and yellow. The gentle sway of the dandelions becomes a mesmerizing dance, their feathery plumes catching the morning breeze like wishes ready to be set free.

Azriel watches you and his eyes are a reflection of an adoration deeper than any meadow bloom. There’s a bittersweet ache in his chest. You close your eyes, a serene expression on your face. Strands of sunlight weave through your hair, creating a halo of warmth and Azriel finds it hard to breathe when your lips bloom into a tender smile.

Your eyes open and meet his hazel eyes and suddenly, he’s looking away. He clears his throat, eyes looking around the field. “What’s so special about this place?” He asks, a desperate attempt to reclaim the distance between desire and reality.

“All life is a delicate balance of give and take. Spring brings forth new life and beauty, new beginnings. Autumn leaves showers of gold, recognizing the temporary nature of all things. “ You answer as if it's common knowledge and upon the bewildered expression on Azriel’s face, you offer the simpler explanation:  “The soil between Spring and Autumn is very potent.” 

“These are weeds. They’ll grow anywhere.” Azriel deadpans. He regrets it immediately at the brief darkening of your eyes and the slight frown that forms at his casual dismissal.

“You may see a weed,” you begin, plucking a single dandelion from the ground as you rise to your feet. You approach the Shadowsinger. “But I see wishes.”

You extend the dandelion to him with a softness in your eyes that he’s never been on the receiving end of. “They say a single dandelion possesses the power to grant one-hundred wishes. But their beauty lies in their resilience because when they fall apart, they simply start again. A reminder to us all of boundless hope.”

Azriel hesitates, his gaze fixed on the dandelion. His gloved fingers brush against yours and for a fleeting moment, he wonders what your skin would feel like against his. The mere thought dares to send a shiver through him but he swiftly pushes the thought away. He doesn’t deserve you.

You smile at him as he carefully accepts the delicate stem from you. His shadows remain dispersed around the field but from where he stands, he can feel them vibrating in a joyful dance. Your smile is so bright, so dazzling and for the first time since he met you, it’s all for him. A sudden warmth floods through him, a sensation he never anticipated, and he finds himself utterly captivated.

“Make a wish,” you whisper to him, your voice a gentle prompt that lingers in the air like a spell waiting to be cast.

Azriel is not one to believe in things like this but he finds himself surrendering to the magic of the moment. For you.

Under the tender gaze of a field of dandelions, he closes his eyes. He lets out a silent breath, and makes a wish. A gentle breeze courses through you both in that moment. The dandelion’s wispy seeds take flight, unraveling into a delicate constellation of possibilities. 

The soft bristles of hope travel through the air and find their way to you and a laugh escapes from you in response to the tickling sensation as they caress your face. Azriel’s heart feels strangely gentle–as if the weight that often accompanies his existence has momentarily dissipated. His entire body seems to soften in the glow of your laughter and a rare smile graces his lips.

He’s stuck in a trance, mesmerized by you, failing to catch the sounds of the creatures approaching. Before he knows it, there are arrows whistling around you both. He barely has enough time to respond as one hisses by his ear and darts to you. He immediately raises his hand up, his shadows rushing to the rescue and forming a protective shield around you both.

**

Your eyes are wide as you stare at the tip of an arrow that is a couple of inches away from you. It’s coated with blood. Azriel’s blood. Your breath hitches at the sight. There's an arrow embedded into his gloved hand and if it weren’t for Azriel’s other hand at the small of your back, you would’ve fallen backwards.

“Are you alright?” His gaze is examining you carefully, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

You blink at his words. “Are you alright?”

“Well, well, well.” A voice drawls followed by deep, rumbling growls from the hounds that surround you. They’re kept at bay by Azriel’s shadows. “What do we have here?”

Azriel turns around, ready to face the threat head on. His shadows remain at your side protectively. Some slither up and down your arms, their touch aimed at offering comfort and reassurance. 

“Eris.”

The red head smirks and his teeth flash when he catches the sight of the Shadowsinger’s injured and bleeding hand. “My apologies,” Eris sneers. “If I had known it was you, I would’ve aimed for the heart.”

A sound escapes from you–one you didn’t know you were capable of making and you step out from the shadows. It draws Eris’s attention to you. His amber eyes drink you in and you feel Azriel stiffen beside you. The Autumn’s male’s eyes land on the obsidian necklace around your neck and they narrow.

“What is a witch doing in my lands?” His hounds that are still surrounding let out another growl, prompted by their master’s tone of voice. They snap their teeth menacingly.

But you’re unfazed.

Perhaps, it’s Azriel’s protective shadows or the overwhelming anger set alight by Eris’s words that grant you the confidence and push you forward. Your eyes fill with darkness, resembling a night sky without any stars and Azriel can feel the energy coursing through your veins as you call upon your magic.

“Keep wasting the air with that breath of yours and I might just cur–”

A hand comes over your mouth, stopping you from saying anything else and you’re being pulled flush into Azriel’s chest. You grimace at the taste of leather and squirm only for Azriel’s arms to tighten around you.

“Cute,” Eris remarks with a hint of amusement but there’s an unmistakable fear that flashes in his eyes for a short lived moment.

 “We’re just passing through,” Azriel states, his voice void of emotion. 

Eris observes you both in contemplative silence. He must discern something in Azriel that prompts him to stand down. With a thoughtful hum, he gracefully turns away. His hounds follow suit and as he walks away, he calls over his shoulders: “Make it quick.”

You watch as Eris disappears into the forest, still wrapped tightly in Azriel’s arms. It isn’t until Eris is completely out of view that you squirm again and without thinking, you bite on his gloved hand. Hard. Azriel flinches and finally releases his grip on you.

You turn to him with a glare that he returns.

“Threatening to curse the heir to Autumn? Are you out of your mind?”

“I should curse you for stopping me!” You exclaim, crossing your arms with a scowl. Your gaze then softens as you quietly add:  “He hurt you.”

“Gods,” Azriel breathes, stepping away from you and tilting his head backwards. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

“You mean besides piss you off by merely existing?” You huff as you snatch your bag away from him to get the jars you brought. “Can’t imagine it gets any worse than that.”

**

The walk to your apartment is silent and you begin to wonder if you should apologize for your outburst earlier. It was not within your nature to raise your voice at anyone…or harbor anger toward someone. But Eris had tried to hurt you, hurt Azriel and then shamelessly sneered about it.

Azriel follows you into your home, watching as you set the ingredients you collected down. He expects you to bid him farewell and kick him out but as you turn to him and your gaze falls to his injured hand, you sigh.

“Come on,” you offer, reaching out for his hand and he recoils. You frown.  “Does it hurt?”

“No.” 

You know he’s lying by the way his jaw clenches and you can’t help but notice that he appears to be repelled by your touch. You almost laugh. “I promise I won’t curse you. I actually never cursed anyone before.”

Azriel’s expression remains unreadable.

“Just let me see. I can help you.”

“I’m fine.” He says through gritted teeth.

“You’re bleeding all over my floor.” You say in hopes to get him to accept your help and when it doesn’t, you cross your arms against your chest. “Do you really hate me that much? To be repulsed by my touch?”

“I don’t hate you.” Azriel confesses and his voice is much quieter, much softer when he speaks again. “I could never.”

Azriel holds your gaze in contemplation for a long moment. Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see his shadows pushing him toward you so you try again. This time, when you step forward, your hand reaching for him, he doesn’t pull away. 

 “Sit,” you tell him, nodding your head at one of the chairs in your kitchen. 

With a hard swallow, he does. He is entirely still as you hold his gloved hand in yours. Even his shadows are eerily still as if holding their breath. His eyes are boring into you with an intensity that heats your skin. You bring your other hand up, a soft green glow emitting from your fingertips. With the help of your magic, you carefully take the arrow out, drawing a sharp gasp from him. 

“Sorry,” you say, turning your attention to his glove next. You use your magic to remove it as well, not wanting to cause him any more pain or discomfort.

As the green mist of your magic dissipates, revealing the scarred skin beneath, your eyes widen. The scars are extensive, streaking around his fingers and the palm of his hand and the bleeding gash in the middle is nothing compared to them. You lift your gaze to meet his only to find his eyes are dead of emotion.

“Azriel.” You breathe and it’s the first time you’ve ever addressed him by his name and it sounds so pretty, so beautiful but the way you’re looking at him…

“Don’t.” His throat feels tight and he starts to withdraw his hand from yours but you stop him. You want to know who hurt him this deeply. Today was a day of firsts for you–first smile from Azriel, first time you ever felt so angry, first time you growled at someone and you were more than willing to add another first to that list. Cursing someone.

But Azriel looks like he’s about to break so you push your rage aside. Realization dawns on you as you now understand why he’s always wearing gloves around you, why he avoided you at all costs before. Your heart aches.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” you say softly as you begin to heal his hand. “Your scars may forever carry their stories with them but they do not define you. Your heart does and I can see it now. It’s bright and beautiful. You’re beautiful and–”

“y/n,” he almost begs. “Please don’t talk to me like that.”

The gash on his palm is now completely healed and you tighten your hold on it. “Why?”

“It’s cruel and heartless and you don’t even realize.” His voice drops to a pained whisper and his eyes are fluttering shut, body trembling. Shadows cling on to him, embracing him in an attempt to comfort their master. You’ve never beheld anything more heartbreaking.

“Do you think that lowly of me?” You begin, your voice quiet. “That I would be put off by your scars?”

When he doesn’t answer, your free hand reaches for his face, lifting his chin up. But his eyes are still closed and deep lines form on his forehead because your skin is so soft, so warm and he’s not worthy.

“Azriel,” you steady your breath. “You’re my mate.”

His eyes shoot open, hazel orbs glistening with tears as he looks up at you. “You know?”

“I’ve known since the moment I met you.” You confess with a pained smile. “I wanted to tell you right away but I didn’t want to scare you and when I was ready to tell you, you were avoiding me. I thought you hated me because, well, I’m a witch and not everyone is fond of them.”

“But that night at Rita’s–”

“My stupid attempt at making you jealous,” you explain to him sheepishly. “I thought it would prompt you to talk to me but it backfired immensely.”

Silence falls over you two. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “For what?”

“For being your mate.” Azriel responds. “I don’t deserve you. My hands are not only scarred but stained red. I’ve tortured many. I’ve killed many. You value life but I take it.”

“I value innocent life. It’s my duty to protect nature–to protect those that cannot speak for themselves.” You clarify. “I understand that it’s your duty to protect this court. I don’t see you any different for it.”

The hand at his face drops and you use it to remove the glove from his other hand. Your hands grasp onto his larger ones and you lace your fingers with his, embracing the thickened and roughened skin. Azriel’s breath hitches.

 “This can’t be real,” he murmurs to himself, dropping his gaze. “In that field of dandelions, I wished upon every one of them. For you.”

“Magic doesn’t work that way,” you tell him with a smile as an overwhelming rush of tenderness comes over you. “It cannot create or destroy love. It can only heighten what is already there.”

Azriel’s expression softens and he looks back up at you. Half terrified. Half hopeful. “So this is real?”

You decide to show him instead by leaning down and kissing him. 

Azriel’s body relaxes and then he’s using his hands to tug you forward and onto his lap. He kisses you back. Deeply and desperately. He places his hands on your face, your neck and then they’re at your waist, slipping under your shirt. He wants to feel your skin, all of you and you welcome it, arching into him because his touch feels so good.

It stirs a light of desire in you–a desire so bright that it rivals the sun and blossoms flowers of its own. A desire to love and be loved. 

“What else did you wish for?” You gasp out when you both pull away for air. His hands are right under the curve of your chest and he leans his forehead against yours.

His breath is heavy but he smiles at you and you engrave the image into your mind because you’ve never seen anything so beautiful. You’re inclined to ask Feyre to paint it for you later.

“I only wished for you to be mine.” He says, pressing a kiss to your nose.

“Done.”

And then he’s kissing you again.

Azriel has heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime–he’s seen it come to his brothers. He never thought it would come to him but he’s pretty sure that you are that love of his and he was a fool to push it away. He knows this now because when he gazes into your eyes, he can see forever in them.

**

here's like an alternate scene, where y/n is the one who says "please don't talk to me like that" instead of az: read here

here's a scene if you're curious about feyre's reaction: read here

if you're interested in reading more about this au you can find the masterlist for this series here

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel imagine #azriel fluff #azriel angst #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #azriel x y/n #acotar x you #az!dandelions

[arthenaa]

nocturne (interlude) — mizu x f!reader

synopsis: it seems as if you've always managed to bump into your father's regular in untimely situations. it also can't be helped that you think he's absolutely handsome.

content: reader is a daughter of a medic and an apothecary, golden retriever x black cat trope, might contain historically inaccurate terms (not that well versed in the edo period or japanese culture. forgive me), mizu will be referred with he/him pronouns, mizu being emotionally constipated ig, slight mention of violence and gore, fluff, pre-relationship, meet cute, sfw.

a/n: heyaaa :D its been awhile since ive posteddd. considering this as a break from comms and sch!! ill try to be more active in posting as my xmas break is approaching hehe <33 current hyperfixation is mizu from blue eyed samurai. (I HIGHLY SUGGEST WATCHING IT !!!) enjoyy part 2!! (my love mine all mine)

You can still remember the first time you met him.

It was quite easy to recall the memory with ease. It was after all one of the nights where there weren't many customers fluttering about to avail your father's services in medicine due to idiotic accidents and miscalculated duels. You watched your father pull out herb after herb, vial after vial, stitch after stitch as more and more swordsmen of all ranks came in and out of the shop.

You were quite well-known around town as the daughter of the medic—often smiling and huffing about. Some say you were too naive to be comfortable and accommodating to your father's customers but others also claim you were elegant and a ray of sunshine due to your approachable and easygoing nature. None of that mattered anyway, not when the field of medicine was your only focus in life.

Your father doesn't like to call you his apprentice but you knew you were his. After all, with all the knowledge he's passed down unto you, you might as well run your own apothecary but alas, you still had much to learn.

It was also a quiet agreement among men that no one pays too much attention to the daughter of the skilled medic and apothecary. You suppose it's because of your father's standing and reputation that most men would rather cut off their arms than get on the bad side of one of the only medics who can actually do a decent job in life-threatening situations.

Which brings us to the current topic at hand.

It had been a cold winter that night. Your father had been busy making fresh medicine at the behest of a high lord in one of the rich provincial states up north. It was up to you to man the front and be alert in case any wanderers might walk in asking for help.

The harsh breeze of that winter night was your first cue. The doors had swung open which left you scrambling off your seat then a second later, a man with a lean stature stumbles his way through—arm clutching the side of his stomach.

Your breath hitches as he props himself against the wooden pillar. He looks up at you, blue eyes clear and intense that it left you speechless from where you stood.

"I-I," He gasps for air, eyebrows scrunching from the pain. "Help-I need—"

You wasted no time in aiding him as you took wide strides to his injured form, arms holding out to keep him steady as he began to wobble back and forth. You scream for your father, worried that the man before you would pass out at any moment.

Thankfully aware of the situation, your father prepares the receiving area. You look back at the injured patient with worry in your eyes as you further assess all sorts of damage on his figure.

However, you can't help but find yourself entranced by his clear blue eyes. Despite being on the brink of utter exhaustion, he has managed to keep himself awake perched up on your shoulder.

He locks eyes with you, blinking slowly, and just as you begin to get lost in those blue hues of his, his body begins to fall.

"Sir, wait—!"

Then he's out like a light.

The next time you met him had been purely coincidental.

After that night, the man left quietly like the leaves falling gently along the stream. He left quite a hefty sum of money on your father's desk and kept the bed clean at his departure. It's safe to say that your father was overjoyed by the payment.

Your father had sent you on an errand to town to gather some supplies from a supplier he trusts. He had been busy attending to patients and manning the counter to be the one to get the package himself.

"You have nothing better to do anyway, might as well be useful to your old dad," Your father scrunched his nose playfully as he placed a bag of money on your palms. "And if a man approaches you, remember to use that knife I gave you and make clean perforation at the jugular vein—"

You had stopped your father right there.

It didn't bother you that much and this also was an opportunity to get some leisure time. You did as you were told and saved a bit of money for window shopping.

Stumbling upon an artisan selling hair ornaments, your eyes immediately dart toward a golden hairpin with imitations of sakura leaves. Upon reaching out to inspect it, a hand collides with your own causing you to let out a gasp.

"Apologies—" Your eyes dart up to look at the stranger but is met instead with familiar blue eyes, this time under the disguise of orange tint sunglasses. "Oh! It's you."

The man furrows his eyebrows in confusion. "Are you Mr. Gojo's—?"

"Daughter?" You perk up with a smile. You shift from heel to heel at the intensity of his gaze. Somehow, you're feeling quite nervous with this gentleman. "Yeah. I caught you that night."

"Ah," The man nods, awkward in his stance before turning back toward the array of ornaments in front of him. "Thank you."

"I-It was no problem," You stammered, hands smoothing out the fabric of your kimono. "It's what we do after all."

There's a hum of response coming from the man before silence ensues between the two of you. He had gotten back to analyzing other items that the vendor was offering and you could only stand there, discreetly watching his every move.

You didn't have the opportunity to take a good look at him besides his eyes that night. Your father seemed like he had recognized the man before you and ushered you out of the room before you could have the chance to offer help. Though, now, you could see that he had a proportionate height—a few inches taller than you but still tall nonetheless. His shoulders evoke confidence with every move of his body but his face talks of the mystery hidden under the guise of his kasa. He was pretty, yet... handsome. You've never come across a man who could embody both sides of the spectrum.

"Do you need something?" His voice had startled you out of your daydream causing your cheeks to flush. He raises his eyebrow with his ever-perpetual glare. You give him a sheepish smile.

"I've never gotten your name, sir." You purse your lips, tilting your head as he squints his eyes at your request.

"My name? Why?"

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water at his response. Why? What does he mean why? This man was truly cynical, you think.

"Well, I saved you, didn't I?"

"Correction. Your father did." The man deadpans. You giggle at his tone, eyes crinkling in amusement.

"Alright, no need to get so philosophical with me," You jest, trying to get him to lighten up to you. You take a step closer, trying to gauge his expressions as you give him a lighthearted smile. "Is getting to know people a crime now?"

The man sighs before looking at the array of hair ornaments to your right. He then grabs the hairpin you were looking at and tosses a bag of coins toward the vendor. He places it within your palms before adjusting his cloak. You flinch at the sudden gesture, unaware of his intentions.

"It's Mizu." He says before turning and leaving without further explanation. You stand, agape as the man further blends in with crowd with each step he takes away from you.

This man—No, Mizu, surely is interesting.

This next meeting was one you were thankful of.

Now, it wasn't as if your meetings were solely limited by chance. He became a regular after your father's incredible work on him. You watch him arrive usually at the end of every week, either looking to restock the medicine that your father gave him or get himself treated for an unwanted injury.

You tried interacting with him during his visits but Mizu always either cut the conversation short or grunted in annoyance. He never tried to entertain much of your whims and only left you grasping at straws for whatever possible chance of interaction he might give you.

Although, despite being cold towards you, he still has the heart to help you in mundane tasks whenever he encounters the chance. For instance, upon seeing you struggling with the basin, he immediately walked over and carried to where your father is with ease. He also grabbed your freshly bought basket of fruits and guarded you on your way back home. He even thumped the back of your head lightly with his hand on his way out while you were fixing up the front.

He was an enigma. A puzzle you desperately tried to solve but always failed.

The thought of his gentlemanly actions had always left your heart thumping faster and louder within the confines of your chest. Wanting to know him, get closer to him, see the corners of his lips upturned—anything to see a version of him only you can keep.

It also seems that your father is familiar with his master. You hear talks between them, asking about the well-being of a man named 'Master Eiji', the one whom Mizu calls his swordfather. You ought to know better than to eavesdrop but somehow your attention has always been led towards his very existence.

Your father had always been strict about you ever since you were but a wee girl. He had expressed the importance of having a fruitful marriage with someone who is of your deserving. He, after all, was in a true love marriage with your mother and was together for at least 25 years before your mother succumbed to her illness at the age of 45.

It also didn't help that you were deemed the sunlight of the town, often getting several interested looks from promising men. But all your suitors couldn't take the intensity of your father's expectations. It's safe to say that you won't be getting married for awhile.

"Just stay here, my daughter," Your father sighs as he serves you seconds of your favorite food. "Who the hell cares about marriage anyway."

You laugh, reaching out to pat your old man's hand. "It's going to look bad for you if you don't marry off your one and only daughter, y'know?"

"That's precisely why I don't want to do any of that," Your father grumbles, taking a sip of his soup. "Work here, eat, sleep, go have fun. That's what your mother would've wanted anyway."

You were grateful for your circumstances, yes, but you've always wanted to help out as much as you can for your dad. His reputation as a skilled medic can only take so much before others will come to expect more. So as long as you're in his care, you try to help out around his shop as much as you can.

Although you wonder if your father would allow him to—

Ah, forget it. Convincing your father was a lost cause.

Back to the current task at hand, your father had tasked you to gather some herbs from the forest near your humble abode as it is less taxing for your finances when you have easy access to one nearby. Gearing up for the coldness of winter, you stepped out of your house in pursuit of such herbs. With a hop on your step, you wish to finish your task sooner than later to prepare for a certain gentleman possibly visiting later at night.

The only you thing you didn't account for was the possible danger you'd be encountering.

"Listen, I-I don't want any trouble," You slowly backed away as a group of men began surrounding you. It was uncommon to encounter bandits around this area as this was situated near the town. You're not so sure as to what prompted this criminals to stage a robbery in broad daylight.

"Oh, c'mon little miss," One of the bandits chuckled. He twirled a knife in his hand as he approached you menacingly. "We just wanna know what you're up to."

Your breath speeds up as one of his companions playfully advanced with a jump in his step. You flinched back, heartbeat thumping as the crunch of leaves around you signified their slow advance towards your figure. You clutched the knife your father gave you within your hands, ready to use it in case one of them tries something.

Jugular vein. Neck. Neck. Vein. Keep it fast. Right side.

"Perhaps we could do something fun, darling? I'm sure you'd love it." Wide grins and loud laughter erupted from their lips.

Vein. Lethal point. Could head straight through the liver. Artery. Perforation.

Your head had begun to ramble, your father's words echoing within the depths of your mind. Just as you adjusted your grip on your knife and one of the bandits had began to finally get whatever they aimed for in the first place, a breeze of wind suddenly alerted you of a new presence.

You shut your eyes in fear as one of the men at the far back screamed.

"What the fuck?!" The leader bellowed as he watched his man crumple to the ground, holding what was left of his dismembered arm. The other bandits begin turning towards the new opponent, swords ready as they watched him step over their comrade.

You open your teary eyes, locking gazes with the familiar hues of blue hidden under orange tint. There's some sort of hardened glare as Mizu looked at you up and down, assessing your well-being within a matter of seconds.

"This is Takayama's jurisdiction," Mizu's deep voice bellowed as he placed his hand on the scabbard of his sword. "I suggest you leave."

The leader lets out a scoff as he widens his shoulders to appear more menacing to him. Mizu only looks at him under the guise of his kasa.

"You are outnumbered, samurai," The man smirks. It might've been intimidating with the number of men that surrounded Mizu but you were well aware of his prowess as a swordsman and completely had faith in his abilities. "Your talks of dominance do not affect me."

Mizu chuckles, one hand reaching up to push back his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"We'll see about that."

"Thank you," You smile widely, eyes crinkling as you grab his extended hand.

The bandits groaned in pain as they crumbled to the ground. Some have even passed out from the harsh hits that Mizu had inflicted. You watched him twirl and move with elegance, slicing and hitting with precise angles that left you in awe at his performance.

It took at most 15 minutes for him to finish all of them and another 3 minutes for you to pick your jaw off the floor and fix yourself up.

"It's no problem," Mizu nods at your gratitude. He holds your hand firm as you wobble back and forth to stay back in balance. "Although, I advise that you venture towards areas within the town vicinity. This area is bordering outside of Takayama, thus the bandits."

"Ah," You let out a soft laugh. "There were more herbs here. I thought it was safe."

Mizu doesn't reply back as he gazes at you from the comforts of his glasses. You flush at his stare, still not being able to handle its intensity. You look down to busy yourself with, staring at your conjoined hands before finally taking notice of a scratch on the side of his hand to his wrist.

"You're injured," You whispered as you pulled his hand close to yours. You hear Mizu's breath hitch as he stumbles slightly at the pull of your hand. You look up at him as he furrows his eyebrows.

"I-It's fine, it doesn't hurt." He tries to reason with you but your grip on his hand remains steady.

"You saved me so I'll repay you by treating this. Alright?" You give him your best smile and suddenly the samurai doesn't have the heart in him to say no. At the sound of his reluctant silence, you enthusiastically pull out your satchel filled with medicinal tools. It was handy that you always kept your tools with you no matter where you went.

You applied antiseptic, brushing it with a clean cloth along the wound. Whether Mizu felt the pain or not, he only remained as still as a rock while you worked.

"You're early today," You try to make conversation as you clean his wound up. Mizu stays silent for a few seconds before replying.

"I had free time," He says. "I... was also out of medicine so..."

You hum, nodding along his words as you make gentle strokes to ease the pain (if he ever felt it).

"If you ever need to go out like this again," He picks up the conversation making your heart skip a beat. There's a pause of silence before he continues. "Let me—If I'm there, let me know. You don't need to endanger yourself like this."

You let out a quiet laugh as you finally wrapped his wound with a white strip of cloth. You look at him with softened eyes, reveling in his slightly flushed cheeks and gaze dulled by sincerity. There's a pause of comfortable silence between the two of you, only lost in each other's gazes.

You slowly reach out, hands pausing as you communicate a request for consent. Mizu only gives you a small nod before you reach out to pull off his glasses. Those same beautiful blue orbs stare back at you as you revel in their gaze.

"You're more handsome like this," You whisper as you take a step closer to him. Snow gently falls around you, cascading in gentle flow as you breathe out puffs of air. Mizu tilts his head with an upturn of the corner of his lips.

There it is.

You flush in his gaze as he reaches up to brush a stray hair away from your face. "You're jesting," He says with a quiet tone.

Your gaze at him doesn't waver. "I'd say yes if you asked me to marry you."

Mizu let's out a chuckle, eyebrow raised at your bold response. "You are one dangerous lady, Y/N. Does your father know that?"

You roll your eyes at him. "How could he know when all he does is keep men away from me," You tilt your head playfully, "Although, I do wonder why he often keeps you close. Perhaps, he's found you to be worthy of a man."

Mizu laughs at your praises, shoulders shaking as the two of you stand close to one another, basking in the soft breeze of the winter sky. He lifts his hand up and flicks your forehead. You flinch back, holding your forehead in pain as you give him a glare.

"Ow?!" You frown as he looks at you with a smirk on his lips. "What a way to turn off a lady!"

"You're too adorable to be a lady," Mizu teases as he crosses his arms over his chest. He tilts his head as he looks at you with squinted eyes in thought. "Kind of like a.... puppy."

Your jaw drops at his comparison causing him to release a few chuckles. It wasn't fair that he was out here causing poor things to your heart and raised by a father who was direct and determined to achieve the things he wanted in life, you didn't allow yourself to back down.

With wide strides, you easily reach where he stands before standing on your toes and grabbing his face as you placed a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"Wha-?!" His face flushes a deep red as he moves back holding his cheek. You flash him a cheeky grin as he looks at you with wide eyes.

"I'll be waiting for your proposal, Mizu," You giggle, swaying back and forth with your hands tucked behind you. You put on his glasses before leaning slightly forward with eyes squinted playfully. "Or shall I be the one to propose, hm? Seeing as your blushing from just a kiss on the cheek."

Mizu takes a few seconds before collecting himself. There's an unreadable look on his face before makes careful steps towards you. You watch him, curious as he stops in front of you—hand reaching out to pull his glasses off from your face. You expect him to start berating you for invading his space but what you received after was certainly something you never took into account.

He leans down and gingerly places a kiss on your lips. Your breath hitches as he presses himself close before pulling away all to fast. Your lips tingle as you watch him put on his glasses back with a smile.

"I'm no coward, Y/N," He adjusts your cloak as you remain speechless in front of him. "I don't make promises I can't keep."

And just as he enters, he walks off with quiet footsteps, leaving you grasping at whatever was left of your brain after what he just did. Your face flushes a deep red as your fingertips touches your lips with shaky movements.

Did this man just—

"Are you coming?!" He calls over from the dirt path back to your house. You stumble in your footing as you rush over to him.

"I-I'm coming!" You stammer as you gather your things and rushed towards him. He greets you with a smile and this time with his glasses tucked away. Blue hues greet your flushed form and suddenly an overwhelming realization washes over you.

Oh, I'm definitely not going to let this man go.

a/n: MY WIFE MIZU MY WIFEEE,,,,, planning to make a pt2 idk lemme guys know if u want one. will also fix my archive, tumblr's getting messy. NOT PROOFREAD but will fix if ever i do go back on this after my finals. HOPE YALL ENJOYED THIS!

#arthenaa #mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai x reader #the blue eyed samurai #Spotify

[fangsandfeels]

Got hit with more thoughts about spawns and Cazador...

...and naturally, I'm posting it here because I'm no longer a functional human being.

I remember the lingering question that Astarion seemingly being only one of the spawns using seduction to lure victims in. At least, there is no menition of other’s doing so, except for Petras. So, why is that? Why Astarion was the only one?

In my opinion, it stems from Cazador’s very particular choice of victims. In all these years, he acquired only seven spawns (except for the thousands of Turned nobody knew about), and almost all of them used to be accomplished or talented people:

- Violet, a beloved and talented songbird from Reithwin;

- Dalyria, a respected doctor working in the Parliament;

- Leon, a sorcerer (a spell modifiaction he came up with shows how good he is at his magic);

- Astarion, a magistrate with a promising future, centuries of life ahead of him, and a beauty worthy of a thousand paintings.

Following this tendency, we can assume that Yousen, Aurelia, and Petras also were similarly talented or good at something enough to attract Cazador’s attention and make him envious.

The bastard thinks very highly of himself. He calls himself the most intelligent and beautiful creature out there, and spends hours writing letters to other vampire lords, trying to convince them of his grandeur. He attempts to inflate his ego, making it finally big enough to overcompensate for his miserable inferiority complex, in any way he can: so, whenever he spies someone with a talent or potential, someone who might be better than him at anything, he snuffs them away, adds to his collection, and then breaks them over and over, making them believe that they’re nothing. He is the father who gives them purpose; they are his spawn who owe him everything; and everything they have belongs to him.

And maybe, aside from tortures, and humiliation, and gaslighting, and forcing “siblings” to hurt each other, he came up with one more way to break them - when he forces them to hunt, he forces them to use everything that made them special, loved, respected, and admired for the most gruesome things.

- Violet, previously a talented singer whose voice was fondly remembered up to Reithwin’s fall, using her voice to catch attention; using her image and charm to lure people into the palace to their death.

- Dalyria, picking her victims around apothecaries and temples that responded to the people's suffering by closing doors in their faces, seeking out refugees and ailing citizens low on coin, offering to help them, kindly inviting them to “her place” (if we take Karlach’s family as an example, finding a healer who would agree to help a less-than-wealthy family is quite a problem at the city).

- Leon, using his talents and magic to nab people from the street, to drag them to Cazador without a fight while knowing that he will never be able to use the same power against the bastard himself.

- Astarion, a previously sophisticated, proud, and beautiful elf, stripped of his dignity and pride, using his body to either seduce poor young and inexperienced souls (fulfilling their image of an ethereal and caring lover) or let himself be pawed at by drunkards and brothel-goers.

I don’t think any of Cazador’s choices were accidental. I don't think he had to roam the streets at night, looking for potential candidates; that he ever Turned any of them by chance.  

They all caught his eye at some point, became an object of his obsession, and then fell victim to a scenario where they were confronted by a promise of salvation - and each time, it made Cazador giddy with excitement and a sense of self-importance. He took them away from the world because he could. He will twist and shape them to his whim because he can. And then, he will take everything from them, reducing them to miserable wretches because this is who they should be, compared to him.

They will belong under his heel, scared, helpless, and obedient, worshipping him and fearing him. Forever.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 dalyria #bg3 leon #bg3 aurelia #bg3 yousen #bg3 petras #bg3 violet #shit-hunter the diva

[atinylittlepain]

Apothecary - Chapter Two

joel miller x witchy!reader

series masterlist

everyone's got something to say about her, and Joel doesn't know what to make of it. when he returns the favor he owes her, he tries to get some answers up in the mountains and away from the wagging tongues of Jackson.

warnings | 18+ angst, mentions of death, spooky-ooky vibes, people being superstitious dickheads

a/n | thank you all for the love on the first part of this series! i just got so excited i couldn't help but write the second part :) keep letting me know what you think, my inbox is always open and i love to hear from you!

.................................

“My son had a cough since he was two years old. She cured it with whatever she keeps bubbling on that stove of hers.”

“I had a rash that just wouldn’t go away. She gave me a balm that cleared it right up. A godsend, really.”

“Wouldn’t be alive today if she hadn’t nursed me back to health with all those herbs and plants she tends to.” 

“She talks to animals. Calmed a bucking colt with a whisper– I saw it myself!”

“I heard that infected don’t even notice her. Just walk right past her. That ain’t human, if you ask me.”

“That cat of hers spies on people and brings all their secrets back to her. You can’t tell me that’s a normal cat, not with the way it stares at folks.”

“Some of the women say they’ve seen her out in the middle of the night, dancing naked in her backyard whenever it’s a full moon.”

“I don’t know about dancing naked, but I have seen some strange lights coming from her shop on my way home from the Tipsy Bison. Lord knows what she gets up to in there.”

“She curses men. Lures them up into the mountains and puts them under her spell. But they always end up dead.”

“Dead?”

“As a doornail. It ain’t a coincidence that any man that crosses paths with her seems to wind up with one really unlucky patrol shift. Luck’s got nothing to do with it, lemme tell you.” 

Even though Tommy told him to forget about it, Joel’s been doing a bit of recon, asking people around town about her, and every new anecdote only further confuses him. It seems like everyone’s got some sort of opinion about the resident witch.

It has shocked him, really, how openly folks call her that. Even the ones that speak highly of her. He had asked Ellie about what she had heard one day after she came home from her classes at the community school. She had shrugged, a knowing grin on her face

“Well, she sure helped me out, old man. But yeah, my friends say their moms call her a lot worse names than witch. Personally, I think it’s fucking cool. D’you think she can fly around on a broom like in the movies?” Joel had not been particularly amused by that question.

He’s not sure what to make of any of it. Some people call her a saint. Others call her the devil incarnate. But there does seem to be a general consensus that any man that sets her in his sights is doomed to meet a timely demise.

It’s been two weeks since he saw her at the town market, and he hasn’t even caught a glimpse of her since. According to Maria, she’s been busy with a flare-up of some sort of stomach bug in the community, making house calls and – Joel supposes – working her magic. 

He can’t figure out why he even cares. After all, he’s only met the woman once. But he can’t seem to shake her out of his thoughts, replaying their meeting over and over in his head, particularly the moment she had said Sarah’s name with such certainty.

He finds himself rolling all this over in his mind most nights, sitting out on his front porch as the summer sun turns to thick liquid over the mountains. It’s in such a position that he finally sees her again, approaching his house with a tired smile on her face.

“Hey there, stranger.” She walks up the first step to his porch, leaning against the wooden beam as she speaks. He can’t help the way his eyes trail over her, a pair of coveralls like the kind mechanics used to wear pulled distractingly taut around the swell of her hips and a cloth bag slung over her shoulder, the tops of jars and bottles peeking out of it. When his eyes finally slip back up to her face, the quirk of her eyebrows lets him know that she totally clocked him checking her out, and he has to clear his throat, swallowing his embarrassment before he responds.

“Um, hey– hi. I, uh, haven’t seen you around lately.” She tilts her head at him, smile simmering down to a crooked smirk.

“I’ve been a little busy with all the– y’know, vomiting and diarrhea around town. But I think folks are finally out of the woods now.” Joel has to wonder to himself how she can still manage to look pretty while talking about vomiting and diarrhea.

“How exactly do you help– with that?” Her smile broadens.

“For the stuff coming out the top end, peppermint oil mostly. Ginger is king, but I’ve only got so much of it cultivating at the shop. For the problem down below, you just gotta push fluids and tell them it’ll pass.” 

“Can I ask– how do you know this stuff?” 

“Most of what I know comes from my mom. She was a lady of the plants, knew just about everything about anything that grows.” Fondness laces through her words, a soft smile as she tells him this, and he finds himself mirroring her expression.

“Lady of the plants– that’s a new one to me.” 

“Well, it’s better than witch, right?” Joel’s smile falls, but she just laughs.

“So I take it you’ve heard the rumors about me?” He’s not sure how to respond, a thickness settling in his throat and ice prickling the back of his neck. His voice comes out a bit hoarse when he does finally answer.

“Heard a lot of things about you. Not really sure what to believe though.” Her smile screws up at that, eyes crinkling as she looks at him.

“Why don’t you just ask me what you’re wondering then? Get it straight from the source.” She crosses her arms over her chest, the unbuttoned snaps of her coveralls splaying open to reveal the edge of a white tank-top, the suggestion of cleavage drawing Joel’s eyes before he can help it. He swallows hard, eyes darting back up to hers.

“Is it– I mean– are you?”

“Am I what?” She wants to hear him say it, he can tell by the ghosting curve of her lips. The word feels silly coming out of his mouth.

“Are you a– a witch?” Her smile goes practically radioactive at that, big and bright as she throws her head back in a laugh. She looks back at him, her lips pursed, eyes narrowed.

“Oh yeah, certified. Got the black cat to prove it and everything.” As if on cue, Stevie jumps up onto the railing of the porch, making Joel jump in his seat. She stifles a giggle behind her hand, Stevie nuzzling against her arm that’s wrapped around the porch beam. Joel huffs.

“Look, it seems like everyone’s got something to say about you. But I’m not the kind of guy to buy into a bunch of bullshit rumors.” She hums at that.

“Oh, no? What kind of guy are you then, Joel?” 

“The kind that likes to work things out for himself.” 

“Is that what this is? You working me out?” 

“Sure am trying to.” She sucks her teeth, squinting at him.

“And?” Joel sighs.

“And– I’m thinking it’s gonna take me a while to reach any kind of conclusion.” She nods lightly at that, smiling at Stevie as scratches under the cat’s chin.

“Hmm, alright. You let me know when you reach your conclusion then.” A thick blink of silence falls between them, and Joel finds himself unable to tear his eyes away from hers, only breaking when she lets out a sigh.

“I didn’t just come over here to give you a hard time. Was actually hoping to cash in on that favor you owe me.” He sits up a little straighter at that, nodding.

“Alright, when did you wanna go out– I mean– not– go out– like– not like a–” She laughs, silencing his floundering. 

“I know what you meant. And I was thinking the end of this week? Do you have time on Friday?” 

“Uh-huh, yep. That’s my day off.” Her face falls.

“Oh, I don’t wanna take up your day off, I’m–”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m happy to help, really.” Her frown softens into a suggestion of a smile, and she nods.

“Well, alright. Thank you, Joel. You good to meet at the gates that morning?” 

“I’ll be there, darlin. Sounds like a plan.” She grins.

“Until then, Joel.” She turns, hopping down from the porch step, before glancing over her shoulder to look at him.

“Oh, and don’t worry. I’m not gonna curse you. Not yet at least.” It’s so unexpected, he ends up choking on an inhale, but his coughing doesn’t drown out the sound of her laugh as she slinks away from his house. He’s so busy watching her saunter off that he doesn’t notice the cat jumping down from the railing, startling him when she starts twining between his legs. Stevie looks up at him, yellow eyes unblinking, as if she’s expecting something from him. He tentatively leans forward, holding out his open hand which the cat sniffs at before nudging her head into his palm, a low purr vibrating through her body. 

“You gonna go tell her all my secrets, Stevie?” The cat looks up at him, head tilted. A little too human-like for Joel’s taste. She lets out a small mrrp, before going back to twining between his legs, sleek spine arching up into Joel’s hand. Then, just as quickly as she had appeared, she pads off down the steps of his porch and out into the night. 

…

“Rumor has it you’re helping a certain lady out with some work up in the mountains tomorrow.” Joel huffs at his brother’s cocked eyebrow and crooked smirk.  He takes a sharp swig of his drink before responding.

“Owe her a favor, that's all. And before you tell me I’m not gonna come back alive, I’ve already heard that from four other people this week.” That gets a laugh out of Tommy, his eyes glancing around the bar before focusing back on Joel. 

“Nah, you’ll come back alive. It’s the days after when they always end up dead.” 

“You serious?” Tommy shrugs.

“There’s been a couple of guys, sure. But if you ask me, that has more to do with the stories people believe than it does with her. What we believe, we create, brother. The mind is a powerful thing.” He punctuates his words with a tap of his fingers to his temple. Joel grumbles.

“Yeah, yeah, alright, wise ass. But you’re telling me there really have been men who’ve–”

“It’s all coincidence, Joel. Like I said, there have been a few guys who started chasing after her. Went up into the mountains with her, y’know, all romantic and shit. And then, well, it seems like every time, only a few days later, they wound up dead. But in every instance, it was a bad patrol shift that got them. S’just coincidence that it happened after they got with her.”

“How many coincidences?” Tommy sighs.

“Four. In the last four years or so.” Joel feels his brows lift at that.

“That’s a lot of fucking coincidences, Tommy.” Tommy shrugs.

“Look, folks always talk about how horrible it is that all these men died. And it is. But no one thinks to mention what that must have done to her. To like someone? Hell, maybe even love someone? And then not only have them taken away from you, but to then be blamed for it too? It’s fucking atrocious, man.” When Tommy finishes speaking, silence falls between them, Joel a bit stunned by the clear compassion Tommy speaks with about her.

“Why d’you even care? Why not join the crowd, huh?” Tommy frowns at that, twirling his liquor in his glass rather than looking at his brother.

“I didn’t tell you this– I mean, why would I? But, Maria had a pretty difficult pregnancy.” He takes a sharp inhale before continuing to speak.

“We weren’t sure if– if the baby– if we were gonna be ok. And she was there for us, through it all.” Joel can see the tears pooling in his brother’s eyes, glinting in the low light of the bar when he finally looks at him.

“I don’t know if we’d have our boy today if it hadn’t been for her. So yeah, I care about her. And I’ll side with her every time. And most folks will too, when push comes to shove. She’s done a lot for this community. But it’s easy to spread poison behind people’s backs. So that’s what they do.” Tommy sits back on his stool, sighing deeply.

“Suppose a lot of the men see her as a challenge, y’know? Steal a cursed kiss and live to tell the tale, or some bullshit like that. And the women see the men pining after her, and they don’t like that one bit. Either way, they talk, way more than they should.” Tommy throws back the last of his drink, wincing at the burn. Joel, meanwhile, is still trying to process everything his brother just told him.

“So should I tell the kid to start planning my funeral, or what?” Tommy laughs, shaking his head.

“Nah, I think you’re too much of a stubborn ass to let a rinky-dink curse sway you. Besides, I think you’re getting ahead of yourself.” Joel squints at his brother.

“Why’s that?” 

“You said you’re just doing a favor for her. She might not even like you enough to curse you, brother.”

…

Joel doesn’t sleep at all that night. His mind works over what Tommy told him again and again, trying to reach some sort of conclusion about everything he’s learned, and coming up short every time. He shuffles out in the early morning light, eyes bleary as he nears the gate. She, however, is chipper as anything, smiling broadly when she sees him.

“Hey there, you ready to go?” He nods, grumbling out a quiet affirmation, and then they’re off.

Most of the morning is spent in silence, hiking up into the mountains. Joel knows that it’s not infected they have to worry about, not out here. But raiders are a whole other story, so he keeps a steady hand on his rifle slung over his shoulder, letting her lead them a few paces ahead of him. 

“You’re quiet this morning.” She glances at him over her shoulder as she speaks, eyebrow lifted.

“I’m thinking.” 

“About?” He huffs, stopping where he stands in the underbrush of the woods. When she realizes he’s no longer following, she turns back around, hands on her hips as she looks at him.

“I just– I wish you’d give me some straight answers here. I’ve heard something different about you from just about everyone in town– and I’m not sure if I believe any of it. Just– please.” Her brow is furrowed, eyes squinted at him as she worries her bottom lip between her teeth. 

“What do you want from me, Joel?” He swallows hard, eyes glancing around the thick trees before looking back at her.

“The truth– I want the truth.” She sighs, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific than that.” He has to laugh out of frustration at this little game they’re playing, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a low curse before focusing back on her.

“Alright, I’ll be specific. All those men that died. A lot of folks around town are convinced that you had something to do with it. S’that true?” When she speaks, Joel’s taken aback by her tone, her usual lightness replaced by a steeled stoicism.

“I had nothing to do with that. Any of it. The only curse that was on those men was their own goddamn minds buying into the town bullshit.” He’s inclined to believe her, judging by her unwavering gaze and the sure tilt of her chin as she speaks, but there’s still more that he needs to know.

“But you are– different. Aren’t you?” That coaxes a smile out of her, and she steps a bit closer to him.

“Different.” She says the word like a challenge, and he nods, taking his own steps closer to her.

“Is that your conclusion, Joel?” Both of them have their arms crossed over their chests, and they now stand so close that their forearms lightly brush.

“Starting to think I ain’t ever gonna reach a conclusion about you, darlin.” Her eyes crinkle, smile threatening to crook into a full-blown grin.

“Would that be such a bad thing? No conclusion?” It’s like magnets, the way their faces tilt, subtle shifts toward one another until he can feel the light air of her exhale across his mouth. He hums, a low sound in his chest.

“I think I’ll live.” He can practically feel the stretch of her grin at his words.

“I think you will too.” It happens as easily as a tide rolling in, languid in the way their lips slip together. His hands find the sweep of her jaw, pulling her in deeper, her palms splaying over his chest. He’s a little surprised when she swipes her tongue over the curve of his bottom lip, coaxing him open and tangling even closer with him. A woman has never taken charge like this with him, and it’s making his head spin. When she does pull away, he’s only a little embarrassed by the way he chases after her lips, stuttering into some sort of composure when she grins at him.

“For the record, you’re not wrong.” Not entirely sure what she means, he frowns at her, shaking his head. She laughs.

“I am different, Joel.”

“That wasn’t just a lucky guess, was it? About– about Sarah?” Her eyes soften, features dropping into a sad understanding. She slides her palms up from his chest to twine behind his neck. 

“No, it wasn’t.” 

…

“This is lemon balm.” She glances over her shoulder at him from where she’s crouched down, thumbing at a cropping of large, waxy leaves. He’s learned the names of more plants today than he could ever remember, though he still nods when she shows him a new one like he has any clue what it is.

“What do you use that for?” 

“You dry it, and then you can brew tea with it. It’s calming– helps with sleep and stress. Or you can mix it into salve to treat cold sores. Though not many people in Jackson come to me with that problem.” She clips several leaves from the plant, carefully tucking them into her pack and slinging it over her shoulder as she stands back up. 

They’ve been out all day, moving through the woods as she collects various plant snippings, explaining each one to him, how to use it and what its use is. And between them, a silent understanding has settled, even though Joel hasn’t asked anymore questions about her. But he knows that Tommy was right. Whatever she is, she’s a good one.

“We oughta head back soon. Sun’s starting to set.” She nods, wiping her hands off on the front of her jeans, and they easily step into stride with one another. They spend most of the hike back in a comfortable silence. Joel finds himself wanting to say something, ask something more, but always hesitating, mind hazy from the heat of the day, and from the stamped memory of the kiss they shared. Even if it was cursed, he reckons that he wouldn’t mind that.

“Joel? I want to say thank you.” He glances at her walking alongside him, the quick-fading light casting syrupy shadows across her features. He has to blink a few times to keep himself from staring.

“No need for thanks. I was happy to repay the favor.” 

“No, that’s– that’s not what I meant. I mean– thank you for coming out today with me, I appreciate it. But– I wanted to thank you for– thinking for yourself– about me.” That makes him stop in his stride, turning to fully look at her as she does the same. They’ve just crested a hill, the gates of Jackson coming into view, and her eyes keep glancing back toward it, a nervous crease between her brows.

“It’s just– you’re right– I know everyone has something to say about me. And I guess I don’t have too many friends because of it. Most folks make up their minds about me before they even talk to me. So, thank you– for not doing that.” His chest twists at her words, the worried look scrunched across her face. He’d like to take the pain away that’s clear in her expression. And then, that tightness in his chest grows for a different reason, as he realizes that he’s already in far too deep with her. He has to clear his throat to shake away the thickening feeling, tentatively reaching his hand out to her, his fingers skating over the faint dip of her collarbone. He can see her breath catch at his touch, and he revels in it, letting his hand trail down her arm until their fingers are tangling together.

“You shouldn’t have to thank me for that. Whatever may or may not be true about you– no one deserves that. I just– why do you help them– when they treat you the way they do?” She sighs, squeezing his hand in hers, and giving a weak shrug of her shoulders.

“Because it’s what I’m good at. I always wanted to help people– and that’s what I get to do. Even if some of them are fucking dicks about it.” Her crassness catches him off guard, pulling a stuttering laugh from his chest as she grins. But she’s all seriousness again, clearing her throat, her brow pulling down.

“Suppose I should warn you now that they’ll talk about you too– if you stick around me. And I don’t blame you if you don’t want–” He’s heard enough, and does something entirely too bold by closing the distance between them to steal another kiss, her wide eyes meeting his when he pulls away.

“Don’t care what any of ‘em have to say about me, or about you. They can talk all they want, darlin.” He can feel the relief in her sigh. She nods, giving his hand one final squeeze before breaking away, continuing the walk back to town. 

When they get back inside the gates, she offers him a small smile, her hands fidgeting with the straps of her pack.

“Thank you again. I really appreciated your help.” 

“Like I said, it was no–”

“Well, well, well– what do we have here? Looks like she’s got Miller under her spell, boys!” The change in her demeanor is instant, face scrunching up as they both turn to see where the commentary is coming from. Joel recognizes the man, Mason, if he remembers right, and a small group of other guys he knows from past patrol meetings. They’ve all got a similar sneer across their faces, eyes zeroed in on her, and he has to fight the urge to step in front of her to get them to stop looking at her like that.

“Guess we better get another coffin ready, huh? Hate to break it to you, Miller. She may be pretty, but she ain’t nothing but bad news.” Joel’s fists clench at his sides, and as the men break into another howl of laughter, his feet start moving toward them before his brain can catch up. But she’s quick to step in front of him, hands pressing into his chest and eyes fierce.

“Don’t– it’s not worth it.” It’s immediate, the calm that washes over him with her words, though he still glares over her shoulder at the men, whose laughter has only escalated.

“Awww, she got you good, man! Hey, witchy-poo! What kinda magic you got working on Miller to have him so whipped?” And with that, Joel is ready to bash their heads in all over again, though she holds him back with her palms firm against the front of his shirt. 

“Joel, it’s fine. They’re harmless, really.” He glances at the men one more time before finally focusing back on her, huffing as he nods. She gives him what she can of a smile, worry still pressed between her brows. 

“I’ll see you soon, ok?” His hands flex at his sides, wanting more than anything to tuck her under his arm and walk off together, but he settles for another nod, and a whispered acquiescence. She’s gone in a blink, walking off to the hollering of the men behind her. Before he can do something stupid, Joel heads off in the opposite direction toward the Tipsy Bison. He needs a fucking drink.

…

Joel is nursing his second tumbler of whiskey when just about the last person he’d like to see sidles up next to him at the bar. 

“Miller.” Mason sits down on the stool next to him, but Joel keeps his eyes on his swirling glass. 

“Look, man, I’m sorry for giving you a hard time out there. But I’m trying to help you out.” Joel rests his elbows on the bar, glancing briefly at Mason.

“Don’t remember asking for your help, man.” Mason laughs, turning on his stool to fully face Joel, a stupid grin across his face.

“Well then you don’t know her as well as we all do. I meant what I said, y’know. She’s bad news.” Joel’s starting to feel that anger creeping up his throat, angling himself just slightly in Mason’s direction to get a good look at him.

“Son, I’ve heard enough stories this week to have a pretty good idea of just how full of shit you all are. I thought this was a community of decent people, really. But after being told one too many times about some ridiculous curse, I realize you’re nothing but fools and cowards.” Mason laughs again, and Joel’s a blink away from slapping the sound right out of his mouth. 

“I’m not talking about that bullshit curse.” Joel squints at him.

“Come again?” 

“That curse you’re referring to? I agree with you that it’s town nonsense. But that’s not what I’m talking about.” When Joel stays silent, Mason’s mouth stretches into a smile.

“She may not be sending men to their graves, but she ain’t so innocent either. See, she likes to meddle.”

“Meddle?” Mason nods.

“In other people’s business. Sure, she helps folks all the time. But that’s not all she’s doing in that shop of hers.” Joel huffs, getting tired of the way this man seems to be stringing him along.

“Talk plainly, son. It’s getting late.” Mason barks out a laugh, sliding off his stool before laying a hand on Joel’s shoulder, a squinted smile on his face.

“Why don’t you go see what she’s got cooking up in that kitchen of hers in the middle of the night. Because I can tell you right now, it ain’t fucking tea.”

#joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller au #joel miller series #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #tlou

[wh40kartwork]

by Israel Llona

#horus heresy #chaos #khorne #nurgle #space marines #heretic astartes #death guard #terminator #plague marines #night lords #psyker #sorcerer #world eaters #apothecary #israel llona #warhammer #warhammer 30k #30k

[mentality-project]

Carry Me Home - Part 2

Morpheus x fem!reader

While being tucked into bed by the King of the Nightmare Realm was lovely, waking up with a hangover from Hell was not.

A pitiful groan works its way up your throat as you roll over to the cool side of your bed, trying to find relief for your overheated skin. You kick off the blanket as you snuggle into the cold, trying to will your body back to sleep as you chase after the last scene of your dream.

After a few more moments of tossing and turning, you admit defeat and blink open weary eyes. Once the waking world comes into focus, the sight of painkillers and a tall glass of water on your beside table greet you.

It could only be Morpheus’ doing. You weren’t capable of such forethought last night. With a grimace on your face, you drag yourself upright enough to pop the pills in your mouth and chase them down with a gulp of water. Its at the temperature of ice water despite the lack of condensation and you could cry from the relief it brings your parched throat.

“Fuckkk…I love you, Morph.” you mumble against the rim of your glass as you lean back against the headboard.

“He loves it when you say that.”

The speed at which you turn your head towards the raven perched at the end of your bed nearly gives you whiplash.

“How the fuck did you get in?”

“The bathroom window was open.”

“Oh.”

You and Matthew sit in comfortable silence as you continue to sip your glass of heavenly water.

“What did you mean by that?”

“What?”

You shoot Matthew a death stare over the rim of your glass.

“Oh, the boss loves it every time you say you love him. Makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”

You nearly snort water out of your nose. “Dream? Warm and fuzzy? Seriously?”

“I am being serious!” Matthew’s feathers puff up with indignation, "Every time you say those words, Dream becomes a much more lenient boss. He takes whatever opportunity he can get to be close to you." "That's..." you clear you throat, wishing there was some water left in your glass, "That's a lot of information before breakfast."

"Sorry, kid. Rough night?"

"Fun night, rough hangover." you manage a grin as you set the empty glass back down, "Wanna stick around for a cuppa tea, Matthew?"

"I'd love to."

"Cool. Be a dear and boil the kettle for me, would you? There should be enough water in it. I'm gonna have a quick shower first, feel free to help yourself to whatever's in the kitchen."

"Don't have to tell me twice."

Matthew swoops out the door as you drag yourself off to the bathroom.

--- You hear the sound of the kettle switch flicking off and the rumble of boiling water as you round the corner, drying your hair off with the towel draped around your shoulders.

"Feeling better?" Matthew asks from his spot on the kitchen counter.

"Definitely," you sigh as you hang the damp towel over the back of one of the chairs, "What kind of tea do you fancy today, Matthew?"

"Earl Grey, please." "Milk, sugar?"

"Yes to both." You take two mugs out of the cupboard, pausing as you notice the small parcel by the kettle. It has your name on it.

"What's this?" you ask as you tug at the string to unwrap it.

"Hangover cure from the Boss."

"Dream was here?" you blink over your shoulder at Matthew.

"Nah, he had me send it over. Under strict instructions to make sure that you drink it. Not allowed to come back until you do."

No wonder Matthew agreed to stick around for breakfast. You almost snort with laughter as you unfold the wrapping, which turns out to also be a handwritten note from Dream. Upon seeing the size of the cloth teabag, you swap your mug for a tea bowl and begin to read as you pour the hot water into it.

Your Grace,

The corners of your mouth creep up into a smile. Could it be? Do you share an inside joke with the Dream Lord now?

According to the dreams of the best apothecaries in the Waking World over the last millennia, this tea contains the best herbs to help alleviate the aftermath of overindulging in alcohol. I hope it is of use to you. - Morpheus

You are practically glowing as you lift the note to your lips and press a kiss to the parchment.

"I love you." your whisper, watching in amazement as the note dissipates into sand and stardust.

You lift the bowl to your lips, taking care to blow a couple of times before taking a careful sip, eyes widening in surprise.

"Huh...not bad."

"Where's mine?" Matthew squawks in an accusatory tone.

"Sorry, sorry."

You get to work brewing Matthew his cuppa, changing your mind about the kind of mug you originally picked and deciding on a wide teacup to make drinking more convenient for him. You ratio the water and milk out so the tea is at the perfect drinking temperature before placing the drink in front of him and heading over to the toaster.

"Would you like some toast, Matthew?"

"Sure, I'll have a slice."

"What do you want on it?"

"Got any butter?"

You retrieve the tub of butter from the fridge, along with some avocado and smoked salmon for yourself - that combo with a sprinkle of black pepper has you in a chokehold lately. After you butter Matthew's toast accordingly, you rip it up into bite-sized pieces before sliding the plate towards him. Matthew murmurs his thanks before digging in with gusto. You lean your head against your palm as your elbow presses into the countertop, watching Matthew as you chew your own mouthful of toast, contemplating. Eventually, you're brave enough to break the silence.

"Why'd you tell me all that stuff?"

"Hmm?" Matthew buries his beak in his tea, the hum being the only indication that he heard you.

"About Morph, and how...how he feels about me...?" "Honestly?" Matthew stares you down and you stare back at him, "there's only so much one can take of watching the slowest slow-burn ever." You gulp down on your tea so fast you start to choke on it.

"C'mon kid, between you and me, you know you've gotta be the one to say something. The Boss has all the time in the world. He's Endless. By the time he works up the courage to make first move, you'll be dead and buried. No offence."

"None taken." you mumble around a mouthful of toast. There's not much conversation after that and you're quite content to eat the rest of your breakfast in silence. Matthew's given you a lot to think about. -- "Hey Boss, how's it going? (Y/N) drank that tea you sent her, all of it. And...Boss? Hey, you okay? Boss?"

Matthew tilts his head at the sight of Morpheus on his throne, but for all his trying, Morpheus doesn't appear to hear the loyal raven.

No, he's far too occupied with the lingering feeling of your kiss pressed into his cheek from his stardust, fingertips still on his cheekbone as if he's trying to keep the feeling there. In his other hand, the parchment materialises, your words scrawled in the smallest print as if it is a secret:

'I love you.'

#not my gifs #the sandman #netflix the sandman #morpheus x fem!reader #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #dream of the endless #lord morpheus

[the-consortium]

Excuse me. Mr Duco? What's your relationship between Herik? Is it like a love hate kinda deal?

A disbelieving, raucous laugh. It echoes from the atrium's soaring galleries and fades into the archways as if it doesn't know where to go. From higher up comes the startled rustle of small claws. Whatever lives in the unused, long-neglected palace rooms is not used to such outbursts of emotion and reacts with surprise.

Duco shakes his head once more, his laughter bubbling out, becoming a grating chuckle, and finally petering out altogether.

In the back of the lab, a door opens briefly. Light falls in and a dark silhouette can be made out. Duco just waves it off, not even bothering to answer. The door closes again, taking the light with it. The lab atrium itself is shrouded in semi-darkness. The Night Lord prefers to work with less light, which otherwise only hurts his eyes. Everything around him is shadows and towering black shapes, interspersed with the points of light from the medical equipment. A miniature version of one of the hive cities on Nostramo. It's not that he's homesick. No, it's perfectly fine for the Night Haunter to have blown up the wretched crap hole. Duco remembers the hard edges of light from the tumbling debris spinning in the last remnants of athmosphere. The tumor was completely removed.

Not that it helped his legion much. The cancer had long since metastasized.

Duco blinks in annoyance. Pushes aside the melancholy. Things have happened, you can't change them. Curze is dead, the Legion is shattered, and now what to say?

He leans against one of the tiled tables and begins to write in his methodical, choppy way.

"I don't think I have any relationship with Herik at all. Or at least nothing beyond the usual professional attachment. On the one hand, the Consortium is a very typical warband - us against the rest of the galaxy. But on the other hand, we are scientists and rivalry in any form is in our blood. Herik doesn't enjoy these fights and mostly avoids them by retreating to the planet where he conducts his experiments. There is nothing of interest there for anyone but him, so he has his peace there. I have a hunch that the Chief Apothecary is also storing something there that Herik is protecting for him - but that's not something I need to worry about.

But currently the Chief Apothecary has a project using Herik's expertise with avian creatures, and so Herik needs to stay on Urum. And for some reason, he's decided that I'm the least likely of all his colleagues to be a pain in the ass. So we spend work time together.

I don't mind. He's quite pleasant to deal with. Like all of Fulgrim's sons, he's a fucking diva, but that's occasionally amusing. He's damn good at what he does. But that's to be expected, of course. Nobody here is just mediocre in his field. Mediocrity does not survive on Urum.

It's safe to say that so far we haven't tried to kill each other. And by the standards of the Eye of Terror, that means we're practically married."

He chuckles again and sends the reply. Looks into the darkness of the high galleries and tilts his head. Listens for the creatures that move there and are way too easy prey.

#Warhammer #The Consortium #Night Lords #Apothecary #Ask Post #Duco

[miquella-everywhere]

Godwyn the Golden and the Cursed Empyrean Twins

So starting off, Godwyn the Golden is simultaneously one of the most important and enigmatic figure in Elden Ring Lore. What we do know is that he a charismatic and powerful Demigod, having lead the War of the Ancient Dragons to victory while also befriending is enemies, but at his end becoming a Martyr during the Night of the Black Knives and subsequently the Prince of Death, which has caused, so many problems throughout the Lands Between.

But I am here to analyze the relationship between Godwyn, Miquella and Malenia, and how much of Godwyns influence made the twins into in the people that they are currently.

Godwyn lorewise is a pretty fantastic dude. He was a valiant warrior, he befriends one of his greatest enemies and their friendship was so string said enemy turned friend, loved him so much he went inside of Godwyn to fight literal Death, and more importantly, he is clearly a revered and beloved figure between the Empyrean Twins, Miquella and Malenia.

Godwyn was close with the twins and the statue of him in the Haligtree Promenade has the Golden Demigod depicted as a protector and possible nurturer of the Twins, so he cared for them a great deal and Miquella and Malenia loved and adored Godwyn in turn.

In Leyndell there's a house in the far corner of the city that has several Miquella's Lily's growing in the front implying that Miquella lived there along with Malenia in their youth, and the fact that it's segregated from the rest of the city, and that you have to go by the apothecary building to get to it, it was likely that the rest of the populace was afraid of the Twins, but more specifically Malenias Rot.

But there was probably one person who wasn't afraid. That was Godwyn. And it wouldn't surprise me if Godwyn was Miquella and Malenia's primary caretaker in the beginning of their lives.

So when I think about it, Godwyn was probably there for them at the very beginning, he empathized with their afflictions and how their curses practically stunted and crippled their lives.

But I also believe that Godwyn was an encouraging figure and gave hope to the Twins. Godwyn was a fierce warrior in his own right and Malenia, who grew up to be just the same, was likely given instruction in the art of battle from Godwyn in her younger years, and he was likely her main tutor before she set off on her own journey in her adolescence and met her Blind Master.

The one thing that I love about this statue is the fact that it is Malenia who is embracing Godwyn, with her remaining arm wrapped tightly around her older brothers chest

Godwyn and Miquellas relationship is an interesting one to look closer at because the one thing that we know about Godwyn is that he was likely very kind due to his relationship with Fortissax, and Miquella too is kind, as he is well known for his acceptance of those rejected by the Golden Order. So if anything, it is a strong indicator that Godwyns kindness heavily influenced Miquella.

Not mention the fact that, at this point, Godwyn is the oldest of all the Demigods, the years that he has behind him and the wisdom/historical knowledge he has about the world would have been immense. And Miquella who is very curious by nature, had Godwyn there to answer the many questions Miquella had about the world. Miquella without a doubt looked up to Godwyns heroic demeanor and worldly knowledge with absolute awe.

Godwyn: *talking about how fast he can go on fortissax before the sheer wind force yeets him off*

Miquella: :D✨

And now, whatever the truth is behind the Night of the Black Knives, it very clearly was a tragedy that weighed heavily on the Twins as Miquella went on to create Golden Epitaph in commemoration of Godwyns death.

A golden sword imbued with the humble prayer of a young boy: "O brother, Lord Brother, please die a true death."

Golden Epitaphs description explains to us that Miquella wishes for Godwyn to be free from the horrific curse that has been placed upon his flesh, and the commemorative sword wasn't the only thing that Miquella has done for Godwyn after his death.

The Wandering Mausoleums are a bit of a mystery, but the more you read into them it becomes very apparent that they are in some way connected to Godwyn and Miquella devising a way to either free Godwyn from his state of Undeath, or to somehow restore his soul to his body. And this ritual involves the Eclipse

So we can easily deduce that one of Miquellas primary goals is to save Godwyn from the terrible fate that has been handed to him either by restoring his soul to his body or by granting him a true death. And with the new trailer shedding more light on the DLC, I am almost certain that Godwyn will have a pivotal role and more information will be revealed surrounding him.

But what can be said for certain is that Miquellas motives are driven by the love that he has for his older brother.

And now we can only wait.

#míquella ABSOLUTELY wept the night godwÿn was killed #mal would have wept if she could but her emtions were just as tumultuous 😭 #elden ring #miquella the unalloyed #godwyn the golden #malenia blade of miquella #elden ring theory #uri posts