#it's Mors new favourite story

[itsswritten]

Sometimes actions speak louder than words.

Request: From anon “Could you please write a story in which someone insults Azriel and the reader is so offended for him that she punches the person who insulted him, and Azriel is very impressed that the reader got so upset for him.”

Pairing: azriel x reader

Word count: 2K+

Warnings: Ummm drinking/alcohol, insults, I think that's it

A/n: This is a one-shot for an anon request! I hope you like it. Also the only knowledge I have of the ACOTAR world is what I’ve read in other peoples fics and what I’ve read currently in the series which is halfway through book 2. So sorry if some things don't make sense, I've still got a lot to uncover in the series and this is just for fun! Also I'm taking requests so feel free to drop one in my messages xx

The smell of aged parchment and the hushed whispers of pages turning enveloped you as you lost yourself in the sanctuary of Velaris' grand library. It was your haven, a place where words wove a tapestry of worlds, and the characters within the pages became your companions. Amidst the towering shelves, you could hear the bustle of the city outside as the sun slowly began to drop behind the mountains. The city always did come alive at night.

You had somehow agreed to an evening out. Feyre and Nesta somehow insisted that you would begin to merge into the library's furniture if you didn’t at some point leave. They said you needed a break from the musty scent of books, and maybe they were right. It has been a while since you’d had a break.

You were Rhysands head researcher, spending most of your time holed up in parchment and ancient scrolls scouring for whatever information the court needed. You weren’t always here in Valeris, luckily you had built great relationships with allied courts and frequented their resources when needed. It meant your time with your friends, the inner circle was far and few inbetween. So when Feyre and Nesta came winnowing into the library that afternoon you didn’t have the heart to decline them.

Nesta generously lent you one of her dresses for the night. A delicate fusion of lace and silk that clung to your form, deep midnight blue echoing the colours of the night court.

“Are you sure this looks okay?” Your brows were furrowed as you examined your physique in the mirror. Nesta scoffed, rolling her eyes up from her new book that she was perched on your bed reading.

“Are you questioning my style?” She said in a cold manner, brow quipped.

You shook your head. Of course you weren't. The dress was beautiful. But it had been a while since you’d dressed as such. “I wouldn’t worry, I’m sure it’ll catch the attention of a certain Shadowsinger”

Your cheeks turned hot as you turned to Nesta to object, you weren’t looking for the attention of Azriel but before that lie could leave your lips, she interjected quickly shutting her book shoot and linking her arm under yours. “Come now bookworm, we don’t have time for insecurities. Cassian is taking us to meet the others” Nesta said sharply. 

You winnowed into Rita’s with Cassain and Nesta, finding your gaggle of friends in their usual corner. Drinks were clearly already flowing as Feyre and Mor ran up to you in a drunken frenzy. Rhysand flashes a small smile, greeting you once the girls had jumped back into their seats, urging you to catch up on the many drinks you were behind on.

"My favourite researcher has finally left the confines of the library," he grinned. "We were worried you had moved in there."

You flashed a taut smile to your high lord. "Well, someone has to keep the Night Court in the know. Head researcher for a reason"

Rhysand chuckled warmly, a glimmer of approval in his eyes. "Of course, and you do an impeccable job.” He leaned forward across the table slightly  “But even the most diligent researchers need a break. It's important to let loose and have some fun every now and then."

His words were accompanied by a gentle press of his hand over yours. The touch was warm, reassuring, and it carried the weight of a friendly concern. "Besides, we all miss having you around more often."

Your gaze shifted to Azriel, who sat beside Rhysand, a silent and enigmatic presence. He wore dark, tailored attire that accentuated the lean lines of his physique. His hair, cascading in a controlled chaos of shadows, framed a face that seemed sculpted from moonlight. His shadows slowly inching across the table to touch you. You glanced at them, giving them a silent consent before they fussed around your hands, moving up to caress your face. Oh they had missed you.

As your eyes met his, a familiar warmth spread through you. Azriel dipped his head slightly in acknowledgment, but also in agreement to Rhysand’s comment. They did all miss you, him and his shadows especially. 

The unspoken understanding between you and Azriel had always lingered beneath the surface. It was a friendship that tiptoed along the edges of something more, a dance between shadows and light. At times, it felt as though words weren't necessary between you two.

~~~

As the night unfolded, Rita's pulsated with the beats of music that seemed to spur the drinking on. As the girls had mentioned when you first arrived, you needed to catch up. And so drinks were placed in front of yourself, Nesta, and Cassian in order to get to the same level of drunkenness as your friends, urging you to take shot after shot.

It had been a while since you'd drank this much, and the night really began to blur. Somehow, you now found yourself seated in Rhysand's spot next to Azriel, your sides lightly pressed against one another.

"You might want to slow down," he said softly, as Nesta placed another drink in front of you, a look in her eyes that demanded a finished cup when she next came back. Azriel's shadows slowly but surely moved your drink in front of him, swapping his empty glass for yours. Silently as always looking out for you "We don't want a repeat of last time," he teased, a smug smile pulling on his lips as he gazed down at you.

You chuckled, eyes closing as your hands came to cover your face at the reminder of last time. You couldn't even walk in your drunken state, needing Azirel to practically hold you up right. You also couldn’t stomach a flight, so Azriel had carried you all the way up, princess style, to the House of Wind. Of course, it was nothing to him, but something you couldn't help but feel embarrassed about as you remember the flurry of drunken memories of you pressed against his chest. Maybe it was the alcohol or the Nesta’s earlier comment but your cheeks flushed.

"You're right," you looked up at him. "I really need to slow down if I'm going to last the night."

Azriel was looking down at you, his eyes boring into yours. A flicker of something you didn't recognize washed over his face as he went to speak. "I've been wanting to talk to you about some—"

And, as if perfect timing, Feyre came stumbling over, grabbing your hand as she declared it was girl time on the dance floor. She pulled you up from your spot next to Azriel. Glancing back at him, you apologised with furrowed brows. He simply smiled and mouthed, "It's okay," accepting the interruption.

As you joined the girls on the dance floor, the beats of the music enveloped you, and for a moment, you forgot about the unfinished conversation with Azriel.

~~~

In the midst of laughter and swirling dances, the girls continued to move, giggles and loose footing carrying you all through the music. Every now and then, you would glance back over to Azriel, his gaze always fixed on you. He watched you closely, an intensity in his eyes that perhaps only someone less tipsy might have noticed.

"Heeyyy, what are you doing?" Nesta snarled as you all seemingly got split from your circle of dancing, a drunken fae stumbling through, alcohol reeking from his breath, unsteady steps disrupting the flow on the dance floor. Of course, there is never a night at Rita’s that goes smoothly; there always has to be something. Azriel quickly stepped up, trying to diffuse whatever was about to ignite as the drunken man squared up to Nesta. Not a wise move.

The drunken man sneered, and Cassian was quick to step beside his mate, encouraging the man to turn away. However, his sights quickly set on Azriel, his words dripping with contempt. "Ahh, look who it is... the high lord's puppet!" The room began to fall silent as the insult lingered in the air. Azriel's expression remained composed, but a flicker of irritation danced in his eyes.

The drunken man, oblivious to the charged atmosphere, continued his disruptive path, his target fully set on Azriel, squaring up. The atmosphere grew tense as the insults continued to poison the air.

Feeling a mixture of liquid courage, you found yourself step slightly in front of Azriel. It looked a little comical if you were to take away the tense atmosphere, you stepping in between two large males.  "Enough," you declared, your voice surprisingly steady despite the pulsating emotions within you. The alcohol in your veins gave you newfound confidence.

The drunken man turned his attention to you, looming over your shorter frame. "And what are you going to do about it, little one?" he sneered, his breath was heavy on your face as he stepped to tower in front of you.

You could sense Azriel behind you, a rise beginning to surface under his composed demeanour. His shadows start to dart around, waiting to be unleashed. For a Fae of high intellect and many words, you somehow couldn’t seem to find the right ones. At times your tongue could be more venomous than Nesta’s, always quick-witted and ready to bite back with sharp remarks. However, with several drinks and shots swirling through your veins, you couldn’t seem to find them.

There was a silence in the air, anticipation of what you would say. You could almost feel Nesta’s glare into your skull, begging, pleading for you to say something. But the words wouldn’t leave your tongue; instead, as if by some involuntary reflex, you did something else.

You hit him. You hit him hard.

It was as if something had ignited within you. Someone who was usually so composed and opted for verbal warfare had swung your fist at the insolent man, knocking him out unconscious.

The room was silent, save for a few gasps, until laughter erupted throughout. Cassian and Rhysand were almost in tears at your unusual outburst. Cassian erupted into laughter, clapping you on the back. "I always knew there was a warrior within you!" he exclaimed, revelling in the unexpected turn of events. 

As the laughter echoed, you caught a glimpse of Azriel's surprise. His stoic demeanour momentarily cracked, and his eyes widened ever so slightly. He struggled to stifle a laugh, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. Rhysand, observing the exchange, shot Azriel a knowing look, a silent acknowledgment that Azriel should be pleased – pleased that you had so boldly defended him.

~~~

The room buzzed with laughter and music as the aftermath of your unexpected outburst settled around you. As the laughter gradually subsided, Azriel's shadows retreated to their calm state. "Well," he began, his voice a low murmur that carried the weight of genuine admiration, "that was unexpected and quite impressive."

You grinned, still riding the wave of adrenaline. "Sometimes actions speak louder than words, especially when dealing with arrogant drunks." Azriel's lips quirked in a half-smile, his usual stoic facade momentarily softened. "I suppose you've proven that. Thank you for stepping in."

You waited for embarrassment to seep in as the adrenaline began to ebb away, the ice now on your fist bringing you to a dulling sense of sobriety. You were anticipating humiliation, realising that you had not only stepped out of your usual reserved self but also that the act was driven by something deeper than just loyalty to a friend. It wasn't merely the defence of Azriel; it was a declaration, a line crossed that you could no longer chalk up to mere friendship.

As the reality of the matter settled, you acknowledged that Azriel didn't need saving; he was more than capable of handling himself. Yet, you had found yourself impulsively and entirely defending him, a force beyond your control guiding your actions. The head researcher's bookish and reserved manner had been shed, revealing a side of you that seemed to have been dormant, waiting for the right moment to surface.

There was a light pull on your chest, an unmistakable tug that was a realisation, an acknowledgment of feelings that had lurked beneath the surface, now bubbling to the forefront.

As Rita's began to wind down, Azriel caught your eye, his gaze holding a silent question. His shadows kissed the light bruises on your knuckles. Despite being High fae, you didn’t train much. Your hands usually only bore the weight of books, and the worst types of injuries were a little paper cut. The bruises on your hand, you were sure would be gone by the morning. However this didn’t stop the shadows' attentive touch. It was as if they were worshipping your skin with their whispers for defending their master.

"Can I take you out?" Azriel asked, his voice a low timbre, barely audible over the fading music. The question hung in the air, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

You looked at him, surprise and anticipation dancing in your eyes. "Take me out?"

Azriel nodded, his shadows swirling in a subtle display of nerves. "On a date, if you'd allow it. Consider it my way of properly thanking you."

A genuine smile tugged at your lips, you and Azriel had found yourselves on the threshold of something new. "I'd like that."

~~~

Across the room, Cassian and Rhysand exchanged knowing looks, a silent nod of agreement passing between them. They shared an understanding for their brother, as if they sensed the beginning of something special.

fin

#azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar #acotar azriel

[writingsbychlo]

how we survive | azriel

summary; you and rhysand keep one another sane under the mountain, until you can return to your mate, at long last. word count; 5143 notes; yeah, listen, this is rough. obvious trigger warnings for UTM stuff, not just for rhys but reader too. it's hard going. this is pretty much pure angst. also, it's not romantically rhys, but there's honestly more rhys than az, I think. it's just an angsty little piece, so, roll with it. please take caution when reading though, there are quite a few sensitive triggers in it.

If there was one thing Rhysand had both hated and loved in his time Under the Mountain, it had been your presence. He'd been reluctant to take you to the party at all; the party he'd prepared to go to and never leave, the party at which he'd planned to commit his biggest sin of all. And yet, he hadn't been able to stop you, when he'd banned all of his friends from attending in his company, and you'd laid your own invitation on the dinner table before him. Amarantha had wanted you both, and not bringing you would have risen suspicions from the start. And so, the Night Court's favourite courtier, the infamous star in the dark, the woman known to bring kingdoms to her knees with a well-placed smile, had bowed with mock politeness before the red-haired Queen at his side.

For ten years after that fateful night, Rhysand had told you how he hated himself every day for allowing you to come with him, let his chin wobble in rare moments alone as he apologised profusely. In the eleventh year, even that small part of his restraint had broken. He'd clung to you, sobbing endlessly until his knees had given way, until the two of you had been slumped against the wall in one of your hidden nooks, crying in one another's arms. He'd confessed his pain, that over that last couple of years he'd stopped feeling guilty at all, he'd stopped wishing he could go back and change that day, change the way it all happened. 

You'd watched his face crumble as he confessed he wasn't sorry at all anymore, that he thought himself selfish and heartless, for thanking the Mother you had come, that he had someone, a friend he cared for so much, a friend he loved so dearly, just one person who knew he wasn't truly a monster, even on the days he thought he was slowly becoming one. You'd cried too, and told him he was your only remaining tether to your heart, that as everything else was slowly becoming stone as cold and hard as the walls confining you both, he was your star in the dark.

For forty years after that day, you had shared Rhysand's bed. Every night he wasn't held by Amarantha until morning, he'd crawl back into his bed, into your arms, and cry silently into your neck until he fell asleep. Every night you weren't expected to play the seductive courtier, the role Amarantha had carved for you, a prize she'd reward for loyalty, the only thing keeping you safe, you crawled back to him. And he held you, soothing your hiccuping sobs with soft murmurs, playing with your hair until you dozed off. Every night, you held one another, tethered one another, found new ways, every way possible to stop the other's soul from shattering entirely. 

He would use those lingering pieces of his powers to show you memories of Azriel, when so many decades had passed you'd both begun to forget what their faces looked like, the emotions held in every snapshot warmed you both through. Every story you whispered in the dark, the same ones over and over of your family back home, never failed to bring either of you back from the brink. Jokes from Cassian that you both knew word for word, tales Azriel would tell of all the wonderful places he'd see on his travels, stories from Mor of her parties, myths from Amren, everything that stitched the broken pieces of you both together, holding tight, as long as you could. 

You'd whisper to him, as his head lay on your chest and your fingers combed through dark hair, what it felt like to have a mate. And somehow, despite all the darkness, the smile that would paint his lips let you know that he believed it when you told him he'd have that one day. When you were overwhelmed, when the façade became too much, Rhysand would sweep you up into dances to keep away the filthy hands of those males that always slipped too far, and he'd waltz you across the floor until you could no longer stand. He'd make sure to stay sober on the nights you drank, to keep an eye on you as you sent yourself into oblivion to simply forget it, and you'd do the same for him on the nights he could no longer bare it. He kept you warm, he kept you whole, he kept you sane, as you did for him.

The day he had woken up, gasping for breath and jerking so violently in your arms that it stirred you too, he spilt all about that first dream; when he'd first seen that woman. He told you every morning, as you shared a pillow, with soft smiles before the day truly started, he'd recount every detail of what he'd seen the mysterious woman in his dreams do. He told you about the flowers on the table, the scenes of a forest he didn't recognise, a human town and what it was like. He told you of the night he sent something back, the night sky image he'd pushed to her, the glint in his eyes that had been missing for almost half a century was finally back.

That night, when the two of you recalled one of the many well-worn tales Cassian would tell when drunk, instead of merely smiling fondly, the two of you had laughed. Laughed so hard and loud that tears spilled from your eyes, you'd been clutching one another, gasping for breath at the amusement of old memories. And you'd stayed awake all night, talking and sharing jokes, until the silent halls outside the doors had filled with sound once again. 

He'd come back shaking from his trip to Calanmai, wound up in such a frenzy that when he fell into bed that night you'd had to spread your entire body across the top of his to hold his shaking down. The night after, when he'd returned looking stricken and pale from his visit to Spring Court, he'd thrown up every bite of dinner the two of you had shared, he’d cried his way through three bottles of wine as he told you about how he just knew that woman, the woman from his dreams, the one he'd met, was his mate. How he'd never see her again, but was so grateful for such a gift. You were sure it was breaking the final parts of your heart, as he clung to you that night so tightly, in a way he hadn't done since the first few years of seeking comfort in one another.

When you'd watched his face fall apart as Feyre, her name finally known to you both, had been dragged into the main hall, you'd done what you do best, what you'd done for months-shy of fifty years. You gave your everything to hold Rhys together. When you watched the last threads begin to fray, you'd pressed a drink into his hand, and stood behind his chair, running your fingers through his hair and crooned mocking words at his mate that only made Amarantha laugh; you'd felt Rhys jerk away from your touch in anger at you for saying such wicked things, but you knew it was best. His fear turned to anger, his emotions were directed at you and not his mate, and it saved his life. 

You let him be angry, that night you had let him seethe, you had let him turn away from you in your shared bed, let him sleep so far from your body that not even his wings touched you, even if it broke your heart. The following morning, you did the same, you grinned and giggled as Amarantha practically tortured Feyre, and Rhysand wore his usual mask, the anger broiling at you fuelling all of it. You saved his life, again. He did not come to bed at all that night. In the morning, his smell was in the bathroom, the door locked, as he scrubbed away the scent of Amarantha that lingered in the air. 

And upon the day of Feyre's first trial, you sowed the seeds as he fretted over his mate. You lounged, and gambled on her success to incite others against the Queen, you danced with any male bold enough to try and get his hands on you only to whisper into his ear your own misgivings. When murmurings of Feyre possibly breaking the curse reached Rhysand's ears from the crowd by the end of the night, you watched something spark in his eyes. 

When he came to bed that night, he smelt of the dampness of the mountain dungeons, of blood and of humans, and he collapsed down tiredly with his cheek pressed to your shoulder, whispering his apologies, begging for forgiveness. And you held him, you answered by wrapping your arms so tightly around him he shuddered with suppressed sobs, because you'd felt that craze, that pain, that longing, with your own mate. The one you were so desperate to see once again someday, and you hoped Feyre was the key.

She was. You watched her die to break the curse, you watched Rhysand prepare to give his life with her, and you prepared to give your own to stop him. It took every shred of strength that you'd had to hold him back, everything you had when he'd clawed and fought at you to let him go when he'd watched Amarantha snap her neck, and he'd collapsed to the floor in shock, staring at you in agony and betrayal as the breaking sound of her neck echoed the cavernous room.

You'd cupped his face, fingers smoothing over the tears on his cheeks to clear them, the sounds of Tamlin tearing Amarantha to shreds falling away as background noise. "Hold the bond, Rhysand. Grip it tight, use that power that's coming back, and hold on. Do not let her go, you can keep her with you." And so he had, he hadn't blinked, hadn't flinched, while you'd held his eye and wiped away every tear, until he'd gasped on a hoarse throat, lips flickering at the edges. "I've got her." He had whispered. 

Everything had been a blur after that, watching all of the high Lords bring her back, Rhys' fingers had never left your own for even a second once he'd taken your hand. Everything was changing, too much, too fast from the way it had sat stagnant and rotting for fifty years, and you were both afraid to let the other go. Afraid that if you did, the other would disappear. On the balcony, as he called to her, to make sure she was alright and that everything would begin to fall as it should, he finally let you go, but only when you felt his mind wrap around yours wholly; no walls, nothing between you both now as it had been for so long. With his power back, he dared to, he dared to let his hand leave yours just to step a few metres away onto the balcony, to take a breath of fresh air, as he clung to your mind with his own. A safety net, a reassurance. 

He'd panicked, you'd felt the snapping of his mate bond in his chest, felt it ricochet through his connection to you, and before you’d known it, the two of you were gone. His hands were gripping your shoulders as pure night unfurled around you both, and when you could see again, you were home. 

Walls you thought you'd never lay eyes on again, paintings you'd forgotten the colours of, people whose faces you'd forgotten, smells that had long since faded from your nose, it all came crashing down. Mor had been the first there, and she'd caught Rhysand as he collapsed, mumbling about his mate, the utterly numbing feeling that washed over your whole body when that bond snapped, you'd felt it yourself. And for the first time in fifty years, you felt your bond hum, pulse, and jump-start within your chest. A dead thread as heavy as chains that had been wrapped around your heart with the suppression of that mountain, that curse, it finally came back to life. You felt the pull, so hard and fast you stumbled forward, knees hitting the ground so harshly you winced, your palms shooting out to catch yourself before you hit the tiles. 

You never reached them, though, your shoulders jerked as you were caught, cold shadows whipping as space and time were wrenched open, and then a warm body was holding you. You gasped, a heaving breath, nails scraping over thick leather as you tried to haul heavy breaths into lungs that refused to open. Your head was spinning, you couldn't breathe, you couldn't think. The smells, that same comforting smell you'd forgotten so long ago were now washing over you in waves, every taut muscle went loose as you collapsed into his chest. 

Your mate, your husband, your love. 

His arms circled you, strong and warm and safe, so much like the way Rhysand had held you but never enough, never the same, he hadn't been Azriel. No, now you had him, and he shushed you, his entire body trembling almost as much as yours did, crying as hard and as loudly as you did, gripping with the same fierceness. You were shrouded with darkness, his wings wrapping around you, a warmth that no fire or blanket could ever bring, shadows swirling faster and faster until you were practically concealed inside of a bubble only for the two of you. 

Nothing was said, not as the bond between you both finally sang, a feeling you'd once worried would never come back, a feeling you'd accepted was lost to you years ago, it was back. You felt every burst of Azriel's emotions, crashing in vicious collisions with yours, both of you left breathless to finally be able to feel one another again. That bond was pulling tight, strumming between your two hearts in absolute ecstasy.

When you'd finally been able to pull away, you'd had no strength at all. You'd remained slumped on the floor, surrounded by his wings and a thick wall of shadows, but you mustered enough strength. Enough to cup his face, to run your thumbs over his cheeks, to memorise the way he looked once again, to commit every single piece of him to heart, to promise never again to forget the way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he finally smiled, to never forget the shine in those amber eyes, to never forget the curl of his lips as he whispered your name. 

It was hours before his shadows finally calmed enough to free the two of you, to let the light of the home slip back in. Hours of whispered conversations, hours of confessions and tears, hours of long stretches of silence that consisted of merely holding one another, drowning in one another once again. 

When the light started to leak in, conversation from outside of that bubble was returned, and your chest swelled full of emotions you thought you'd cried out. It was back, great tidal waves of it as you set your eyes on Cassian, who'd dropped to his knees so fast you thought they'd crack, and swept you into a hug so crushing you'd feel it for days. You cried with him, and held him, with Azriel's fingers never quite leaving you, always there, always touching. 

When Mor had taken Cassian's place, Azriel had hovered, finally standing, stretching out legs that had lost sensation, flexing tight wings, his hand resting in your hair as he rubbed soothingly at your scalp. No matter how long passed, he'd never forgotten just how to give you exactly what you needed. Then Amren, she had always been cold, always composed, and yet even she had offered a smile, a thick swallow with a nod of her head, and a hug that lasted barely a few seconds but held everything you needed to know. Even Amren had missed you both.

Dinner that night was quiet, and tense, with everyone waiting for you or Rhys to say something, everyone waiting for someone else to break the silence. You'd taken a seat next to your friend, your best friend, on instinct. Azriel had a hand resting over your knee, on the back of your chair, always touching you in some way. Yet those skittish touches had paused when Rhysand had reached out, instinctively, taking your hand during one of Cassian's stories and lacing your fingers together, hidden under the table to sit on his thigh. You'd felt confusion, and hurt, echo down the bond, as shadows swirled possessively of their own accord around your wrist, tugging at Rhysand’s impatiently.

You squeezed your friend’s hand tighter, and sent nothing but love down the bond to your mate. It was hard, to snap out of a mentality that you'd grown so used to over fifty years. You were lost, sinking in it all, you couldn't breathe, like you were being pulled down through the thick lakes in Oorid. No matter how much you loved your friends, no matter how much you had missed them, it was too much, all at once. 

Your breathing got shallower and shallower, and you could feel Rhysand's pulse beating faster and faster against your own as he felt the same. The night was running on, but the food was tasting like ash in your mouth and the wine was bitter and made you cringe, and you were gripping one another's hands so tightly that each of your knuckles were white. 

Rhysand had snapped first, standing abruptly and taking your hand with him, everyone's gaze closing in on it, and he dropped it a second too late. He said he needed his quiet, he needed some space, needed to think. They understood, and you could have cried when they bid you a soft farewell, before Azriel had winnowed you both home. Home to a bedroom you barely recognised anymore, to unfamiliar smells. A bedroom with windows, the light of the night pouring in, the sounds of happiness in the streets buzzing in your ears. 

Silence, was all that was left after Azriel drew the curtains, and prepared to change for bed. You were frozen, in the middle of the room, because you couldn't remember. You couldn't remember your own home now, you couldn't remember where your pyjamas were, or which side of the bed was yours, or even what your address was. 

And something broke. Tears streamed wordlessly, soundlessly, down your cheeks as you stared at the bed, a bed you hardly remembered. The longer you looked, the harder your chest heaved. It was made of pale wood, covered by thick blue sheets made of cotton and pillows that were fresh and crisp and white. But, dark silk taunted you behind your eyes, mountains of maroon pillows on a black frame, the wicked curve of red lips as you recalled the room Amarantha had given to you, given to both you and Rhysand, a sick gift as she promised you that you could 'have her dripping leftovers' back each night. A game, just another one she'd played with you, as she tested how far she could push you and Rhys, to see if you'd ever both truly snap.

Azriel approached, slowly and cautiously, one hand looping loosely around your waist, the other coming up to weave into your hair, moving until your face was pressed to his neck. "It's okay."

"It's not okay," There was so much wrong, so much you couldn't remember, couldn't shake away, so much you hated about yourself and what had happened that you would never be able to leave behind. Things you may never be able to voice.

"I-I could smell it - him - on you as soon as I held you." His voice cracked, and confusion filled you, sadness of his own meeting yours in a twist between your hearts. Worst of all, came the crushing guilt, because you'd always imagined that coming home to Azriel would be nothing short of perfection, and yet the routine you'd formed with Rhysand was jarring in its absence now. "It's okay, it was so long. He was all you had, and it's okay. I can feel that you still love me, as I still love you. It's okay if you love him too."

"Azriel. Az, my love. Rhysand, he held me together when I missed you so much I thought I'd never-" You choked on a sob, and he only nodded, head moving as it lay atop yours to tell you he understood, you didn't have to say it. "I love him, I love him more than anything, and he gave me everything he had under that mountain, as I gave him everything I had, to keep one another whole. But please, believe me, trust me, and rest assured when I say that I have never been in love with anyone other than you."

He pressed a kiss to your temple, head dipping to kiss your cheeks, your nose, everywhere he could reach, before he was pausing with his lips brushing your own. He believed you, you knew, you felt it, and when his lips closed softly over your own, a fresh batch of tears poured from both of you. It was soft, and delicate, learning the taste of one another once again, and when he pulled back, it was like he was taking all of your thoughts with him. "It's okay. We can learn it all again, everything, I'll show you it all. You are home, you are back with me, and I will not let you go again."

"I was worried this was a dream," you whispered, voice thick as he guided you slowly towards the bed, and you tried to blink back any more tears. Your throat was raw, your eyes burned and your skin was stinging from how much you cried today. You didn't want anymore. you couldn't. "But I know that it's not a dream. I know, because I had forgotten the smallest details of your face, the way you smelled, and how it felt to be held by you. I know it's not a dream, because my mind had lost the ability to conjure you like this for comfort so long ago."

You sat nervously on the side of the bed that he directed you to, and it felt familiar. It felt reassuring, your fingers brushing over the bedside table on this side as it all started to come back to you. You watched as he silently moved to the dresser against the wall. One with a vase full of fresh flowers, you did remember that, you loved those fresh flowers, it had been your pride to get new ones for the bedroom every week, and you'd missed flowers so much when you'd been where none would grow. He opened a drawer, pulling out a set of pyjamas you didn't remember owning, but the fact he'd never packed your things away, they'd always sat here waiting for you, made you settle so much you felt weightless.

"I want to-" You didn't know, didn't know how to say that you couldn't wear those, that they no longer belonged to you, they weren't what you wanted, or needed. Some kind of base need thrummed down the bond, instinctive and subconscious, but the flare of his wings told you that Azriel understood. Slowly, he reached behind himself, unbuttoning the clasps of his leathers, stripping off that top layer and discarding it to the floor. A soft but worn t-shirt sat underneath, stuck to his skin and falling loose with every heavy breath. He undid that too, but rather than throwing it, he held it out.

It was warm, the heat of his body keeping it so as it fell into your hands, and you clutched the bundle up to your nose, taking a deep breath, and feeling the last of the tension drip from your body. Standing on weak and shaky legs, you stripped off your clothes, uncaring of the eyes that never left your form. Your body hadn't been your own for a long time now, simply another possession of Amarantha's, and you were too tired to care about his stare. Even as he took in every new bruise or scar, even as he took in every fresh new whorl of ink on your skin, and itched to know what kind of bargains you'd had to make that branded you. 

When you tugged his shirt over your head, feeling the brush of the warm cotton, drenched in his scent, your head spun. And for the first time in the whole night, you finally felt truly at home. You could breathe, lungs filling all the way up, a rush through your blood. Seconds later, Azriel's knuckles were brushing your back, quietly doing up the clasps to hold the material closed, despite the gaping patches from your lack of wings. When he finished, you fell into bed, puffing up the pillows and watching tiredly as he changed himself. He did not bother with a shirt, despite the chill in the air, and you both knew why. 

He plunged the room into darkness before joining you in bed, and the second he was within reach under the covers, you plastered your body to his. He chuckled lightly, though no humour filled it, and his hands gripped you just as tightly as you held him. 

It was within that same tight embrace that you fell asleep. It was soundless sleep, one of exhaustion and weariness that not even nightmares could find you, but the second your subconscious felt Azriel moving, you were snapped from it so violently your stomach churned. 

Your hand flew out to his side of the bed, warm still, fingers grasping the sheets as panic rose. It was dark, so dark, you couldn't see a thing and for a second you were sure you had dreamt it all. You were alone again, wrapped in taunting silk in a horrid shade of red as Rhys was detained by Amarantha again, and it was as you were gulping in harsh breaths that you heard it. Knocking, loud and reverberating through your home from the wooden front door. Shadows whispered across your cheeks as your hand flung out, illuminating the faelight on the bedside table. Your hand crashed into the lamp, knocking it into the wall. 

Swirls of darkness remained around you even as the room was lit, and you took a deep breath. They were comforting, weaving through your hair and nudging across your cheeks to wipe away tears, a sure sign that your mate hadn't been ripped from you once again, but it didn't stop the fear. Nothing stopped it, until he returned, the banging stopped, and he reappeared sleepily in the open bedroom doorway, slipping inside. As you set your eyes on him, you could finally breathe again, and he rubbed tiredly at his face, but rigidly alert the second he took in the tear tracks on your cheeks in the faint glow of the room.

"What happened, my love?"

"You- you can't-" Your heart stammered, chest aching at the tightness, and you held hard onto his hands to tug him closer as soon as his knees hit the bed. "You can't leave me. You can't go. Anywhere. I thought- I was alone again, don't leave me, Azriel, don't go, don't-"

He shook his head, closing in enough to press a shaky kiss to your lips, and when you calmed enough to twist back to your pillows, you realised he hadn't returned alone. Lingering in the doorway was Rhysand, dried tear stains on his own cheeks, feet bare as he stood in the doorway of your bedroom. 

"I'm sorry for coming here." He whispered, shrugging helplessly as a laugh so hollow and self-deprecating left him your own heart ached. You could feel the agony washing down the bond from Azriel, as he took in his long-lost brother. "I... I can't sleep without you. I can't sleep alone. I'm too scared to get in my bed. It's too big, and cold, and-"

You shifted further into the large bed toward the middle, toward Azriel's side, then lifted the covers, and Rhysand cut himself off with a sniffle, holding back his tears like you were trying to do. He shuffled across the room, stumbling in a way so un-lordlike you committed it to memory, until one day, maybe, you'd be healed enough to tease him for it. He settled into the bed, and you tucked the blankets around his body as he settled into the mattress, finally losing a sigh, that carried away everything he'd been holding onto. 

"I'm sorry, Azriel."

Your mate settled in behind you, one arm curling under your body to pull you flush to his back, the other reaching over you, beyond you, to settle a comforting weight on Rhysand's shoulder. The lord's eyes lined with silver, and he squeezed them shut. "You have nothing to be sorry for, brother. You kept my mate alive, you stopped her from breaking, and you brought her home to me. I am happy that you found solace in one another, and that you are both home. If it had to happen, I would not wish it to have happened any other way. If this is what you need, then this is what you shall have."

You settled one hand over Azriel's where it held you tightly to his body, and the other reached out, settling over Rhys' and weaving your friend's fingers through your own from where it sat on his pillow. He gripped back tightly, sniffing back tears once again. "Thank you." He whispered, voice unable to go any louder. 

He winked out the lamp once again, three sets of breaths harmonising in the room as true peace fell over you all. "Thank you, for taking care of her, Rhysand. One day, when you find your mate, I hope I'll somehow be able to repay that debt. But this? You can have this for as long as you need. We are yours for as long as you need us."

Rhys whispered his thanks, the words hanging in the air, and he tapped at your mental shields. You squeezed, knowing what he wanted, and he gave a soft scrape in silent thanks. He wasn't ready to tell them yet, to tell the rest of your family that he had met his mate, that he knew her and lost her, but he would one day. Until then, you'd keep his secret, and you'd slowly heal, together, now that you were home.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel/reader #azriel/you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar/reader #acotar/you #rhysand

[florence-end]

May I have this dance?

Azriel x fem!reader Part 2

Request: Could you write a shy reader × Azriel story? Thank you!

Warnings: none

Summary: Azriel’s new mate is painfully shy, despite his efforts to get closer to her. Something shifts between them when Mor needs help with Cassian’s dance lessons.

You heard Mor calling for you all the way from the dining room, which definitely meant she was up to no good if she hadn’t come to your office to talk to you directly. You set aside the book you were combing through, adding it to the pile of discarded volumes that you and Amren had been scouring for clues on how to beat Koschei. As the recently appointed head scholar of the night court, quietly reading in your office took up most of your time and was exactly how you liked it. Groups of people, social occasions, too much noise, it all made you nervous and you retreated even further into yourself than usual.

Preparing yourself for the whirlwind of energy that was the high lord and lady’s third in command, you made your way to the large dining room at the other end of the corridor. Music was playing inside, and as you pushed open the large wooden door, you were met with the sight of Mor dragging Cassian around in a waltz as he tried desperately to keep up with her speed. Rhysand and Feyre were also stumbling through the steps, looking only slightly more proficient than the clumsy warlord. Off to the side, leaning against the large table that had been pushed against the wall and looking far too amused, was Azriel.

His eyes moved to you immediately as though he couldn’t help himself, and he gave you a small smile and wave. You felt the muted rush of affection flood the bond before he could clamp down on it to avoid overwhelming you, and you gave a small smile back to let him know it was okay.

You and Azriel had met on your first day in the night court a month ago, and the bond had snapped right away. Although you were happy to finally meet your soulmate, your shy demeanour and nervousness when it came to interacting with strangers had caused you to panic a little and you kept your distance at first. He respected your feelings and had committed himself to gently courting you ever since.

Mugs of your favourite tea were waiting for you on your desk every time you left your office to search the library. Little trinkets and decorations for your bedroom were left neatly wrapped for you to find, always hailing from whatever court or country Azriel had most recently visited on his missions. He had taken to spending any downtime he had in your office, settled quietly in the armchair across from your desk and helping you work through the never-ending pile of research in comfortable silence. Once, when you were feeling particularly relaxed after a few glasses of wine at dinner in the river house, he dared to take you on an aerial tour of Velaris as he flew you back to the House of Wind. Just the memory of his secure arms holding you close to the warmth of his body while the chilly breeze whipped around you made your cheeks heat up.

The music came to an end and Mor turned to see you lingering in the doorway. “Perfect, you’re here! Please don’t hate me but I really need your help,” she pleaded. Mor explained that Cassian needed to learn to dance in order to impress Nesta on the next trip to the Court of Nightmares. She had asked Rhys and Feyre to attend the lesson so Cassian could see what the steps were supposed to look as Mor taught him the routines but it turns out dancing was not a talent possessed by the high lord nor the high lady.

“In my defence, I have never needed to dance at the court of nightmares, my role is to sit on the throne and look intimidatingly handsome. And I am fantastic at it,” Rhys protested as Mor continued to criticise his two left feet. Feyre had a better excuse, given she had mostly grown up poor in the human lands.

You giggled as Mor and Rhys bickered for a few more moments before she dismissed her cousin and his wife. They quickly bade their goodbyes and left the dining room hand in hand.

“If you’re going to ask me to dance, Mor, I should say now that I don’t know any of the night court routines,” you warned, knowing where this conversation was going and not liking it one bit.

“That’s alright! Luckily for us all, Azriel possesses all the grace that his brothers do not and he knows them all. He’ll lead and all you need to do is follow,” Mor declared, giving you no time to object as she grabbed your wrist and pulled you over to your mate who was watching your face for any signs of serious discomfort. “Az, show her the hold for the waltz and I’ll run over the steps with Cassian again,” she instructed and left you both on your side of the makeshift dance floor.

“You don’t need to do this, just say the word and I’ll winnow you back to your office before she notices,” Azriel offered kindly.

“No no it’s okay, I want to help plus Nesta is my friend and it’ll make her happy. But I really don’t know what I’m doing,” you murmured back quietly, twisting your hands in front of you.

Azriel offered you his hand in a silent question, letting you make the move to touch him. You know he’s sensitive about his scars and would never want to make him feel any more self conscious by hesitating so you slipped your fingers over his palm to link with his and looked up into his warm hazel eyes.

Although he’s flown with you a few times and you eat most of your meals sat next to each other, the proximity and intimacy of the moment flustered you immediately and you broke eye contact. You missed the flash of pride on Azriel’s face at the evidence of how much his presence affected you.

“Now put your other hand on my shoulder and I’ll place mine on your waist,” he explained and you obeyed his instructions without delay.

“A little closer,” he urged, using the hand on your waist to curl around your lower back and press you further into his chest. You were so close now that his scent hovered all around you, you could feel his warm breath brush across your cheek, and his shadows caressed the hand that lay on his broad shoulder as though wanting to prevent you from withdrawing your touch.

“Perfect,” he whispered, his lips inches from your ear. Mother above, this male was going to be the death of you. Your face couldn’t be any hotter if you were actually ablaze. “When the music starts, all you need to do is close your eyes and trust me.”

The reminder of why you were here burst your bubble as you felt your nerves return. “What if I trip or step on your feet?” You questioned anxiously, beginning it pull back from him.

His hands remained firm, keeping you in place. Once again, his whispers sent shivers along every inch of your skin. “I would never let you trip. And it would be an honour to have you step on my feet,” he teased, helping you relax.

“Okay are we ready to try this from the top?” Mor called from across the room. Azriel nodded on behalf of you both, and reminded you to close your eyes.

As the music began, you quickly started to wonder if the Illyrians gave as much dance training as they did for combat because Azriel was flawless. He moved with a quiet grace and certainty, leading you with such confidence that you didn’t have a chance to feel shy or anxious. Cassian’s cursing and stomping footsteps nearby told you that Azriel’s skills may not have been Illyrian-taught after all but you were feeling too giddy to give it much more thought.

One dance turned into two which turned into five. When the music came to an end half an hour later, Azriel released his hold on your waist and leaned back slightly to take in your dazed expression as your eyes fluttered open, chuckling lowly.

You hadn’t noticed that Mor and Cassian had left sometime while you were dancing, and for once in your life you weren't worrying about looking foolish or trying to find the right thing to say. All of your thoughts were consumed by this miraculous male in front of you who had quite literally whisked you off your feet. And to make it even better, he was looking at you as if you were miraculous too.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x you #acotar

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

The ravishing type

Azriel's week: Day 5

Hosted by: @azrielappreciationweek

Word count: 1200+

From that day Azriel took you out every other day, showing you his favourite cafes, bakeries, shops and parks. You had a lot of fun with him, loving every place he took you to.

Azriel seemed to enjoy himself, too, and you often saw him smiling sincerely and laughing at the various stories and jokes you told each other. Rhysand and Cassian certainly knew this side of him well, but for you it was new and very rare sight. And you loved it.

If you were honest you would admit that you fell for him. However, afraid of a great pain and unrequited feelings, you didn't want to admit it. Males like him would never consider you more than just a friend. He was one of the most powerful persons of this court, possibly in the whole word and who were you. Nobody. Unimportant, useless bookworm.

One day you were walking with Mor to the dining room in the House of Wind, talking about different girl's things when Mor suddenly changed topic.

"So you and Az are dating?" she asked innocently grinning wide.

You stiffed and panicked. What should you say? If it was another male, somebody less significant, less flawless, somebody on the same level like you, you could easily call it dating.

But with Azriel, you couldn't possibly even think about it as about dates even though you'd really like to. More over he had never implied it was supposed to mean more than ordinary outing with friend. Your heart clenched with pain at the thought.

You cleared your throat. "I don't think it's dating," you said nervously. "We are just friends." Quickly you opened the door and stepped to the dining room just to be met with piercing gaze of hazel eyes. You flinched, eyes widening. Azriel certainly heard every single word you said and he seemed to be angry. You swallowed hard, unable to move or say anything.

"Hi, dear," Mor greeted him as if nothing happened and you two weren't talking about him. But Azriel didn't give her a single glance and stormed out of the room.

You hadn't seen him for the rest of the day. You didn't understand why he got so mad, but still you felt a need to apologize for whatever you had done. Sad you returned to your room to rest for a while before the dinner and found a big box and a bouquet of deep red roses on your bed. You picked up the note attached to the box.

Wear this and meet me on the roof top. It wasn't signed. Excitement rose in your chest. Who could leave it here. Azriel was the only one who came to your mind, but this wasn't his style at all and right now he was pissed.

Curiousity was eating you up alive. You opened the box and gasped. There was a simple, but elegant dark blue satin gown that looked like almost black. You carefully caressed the fabric with tips of your fingers and bit down on you lower lip. You needed to try it on immediately.

The gown fitted you like a glove. The tiny straps held it on the place while most of your back was exposed. The skirt reaching to you ankles had a deep cut on one side exposing your leg. You'd never even dreamed about trying on something so beautiful and sexy.

You put the roses in the vase and placed it on the dresser. You stopped just enough long to smell their sweet scent. Then you took out makeup that Mor gave you some time ago and started to prepare.

Your heart beated fast with excitement as you reached the roof top and looked around. But nobody was waiting there. Did you make a mistake or someone was just making fun of you? Your shoulders slumped in disappointment. You were about to return back inside when the air swirled behind you. You turned around expectantly and forgot how to breathe.

Azriel stood in front of you dressed in an expensive looking tailored suit and looked like an angel of darkness. Too sexy angel of darkness. His lips slightly parted as his eyes slid down your body.

"You are beautiful," he whispered, hazel eyes shining. You blushed fiercely and your heart stuttered at his words.

"You look good too," you said shyly.

"I'm so happy you came. I wasn't sure if you would accept my invitation."

"So it was from you."

"Did you expect somebody else?" One of his brows kicked up.

"No," you said quickly. "No, I actually had no idea who could send it to me. You don't seem to be the type of male who does romantic things like this and there's nobody else I could think of."

Azriel huffed. "Why did you do it anyway?"

"Today I heard you when you said to Mor that we are just friends. And it hurt more than I'd like to admit. I was hoping that you would consider our meetings as something more than just casual outings. But I myself wasn't clear enough about it. Tonight I want to fix my mistake. Of course, only if you let me."

You nodded enthusiastically, tears stinging your eyes. It felt like dream coming true. This perfect male in front of you who could have anybody he'd like, had feelings for you. You wanted to pinch yourself to make sure it was real.

Azriel offered you hand and you gladly accepted it. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes," you smiled. Azriel lifted you up and shot to the night sky.

He took you to the one of the best restaurants in Velaris. He even reserved entire place so you could enjoy the dinner.

The whole time Shadowsinger was charming companion, holding your hand while you waited for the next course. Anytime you looked up at him, he was already watching you, flickering candlelight reflecting in his eyes. You had never experienced anything so romantic. It was like the scene from your favourite novels.

After dinner Azriel took you to one of the hidden gardens.

"Whoa.." you breathed out, not believing your own eye. There was a blanket spread out on the grass, bottle of wine and two glasses prepared on it. The atmosphere was complemented by fairy lights scattered in the branches of trees and shrubs, and full moon accompanied by shiny stars above your heads.

"Do you like it?" Azriel searched your face.

"I love it. It's perfect," you smiled widely. "Thank you." You hesitantly approached him and wrapped arms around his waist. Shadowsinger stiffened for a moment, but then he hugged you and tugging you closer he rested his chin on top of your head.

"I'm glad," he hummed.

You sat on the blanket, nested between Azriel's long legs, his arms wrapped around your waist. You were watching the moon. Feeling his gaze on you, you looked back at him. Your eyes met and he swallowed hard. Azriel watched you for a while and then leaned in and kissed you.

The world turned with you and your heart leaped up to your throat. You kissed him back and in that moment you felt it. You gasped when the bond snapped for you.

Azriel broke the kiss, worry in his eyes. Realising what just happened, he smiled brightly. "Finally," he whispered and leaned in for another kiss.

#azrielappreciationweek2023 #az x reader #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel x you #azriel #acotar fanfiction

[starlightandsouls]

Hi, I had this idea and maybe you could write something around it… if you don't want to, that's fine!

Azriel and reader are in a relationship, reader already has a daughter who adores Az, maybe one night the little girl ask him to read her a bedtime story and she says something like "I love you daddy, goodnight" and that was the first time she said those to him and he goes tell reader

I love your writing!

My Angel

Azriel POV...

He should have known better than to be roped into one of Morrigan's plans, but his family had the annoying habit of dragging him into whatever they were doing. Morrigan and Feyre had the idea that things were getting a bit too ‘boring’ so had consequently decided to throw a party at the River House. And that was all good enough. The problem was that they had recruited him to run all their errands.

So now, albeit unwillingly, he found himself with a list in hand, standing in the Rainbow centre, frowning at everything he had to get. Honestly he believed that as the Spymaster of his court, he had much more important things to do. And he had voiced as such to Rhysand, but in the end the High Lord had been unable to deny his mate. Sap.

He had just left a winery after purchasing Cassian and Mor’s long list of demands, face buried in the damn list, when he had stumbled into something. Or someone as it seemed. Grunting, he looked down and found a small girl staring up at him, scowling.

Now Azriel was not good with kids, had never known how to dealt with them. The closest had been his nephew, Nyx. And even with him, Azriel had been terrified at first, too scared that he would do something wrong, would somehow hurt the little boy. For some time, he had downright refused to hold Nyx, consumed by his fear and doubt. It wasn’t until that Rhysand had almost shoved the boy into his arms, slapping him across the head for his ‘stupidity’ as his brother put it, that he had started bonding with the boy more.

Now, however, he was pulled back reality as the girl before him snapped at him,

“Hey! You dropped my ice cream, mister.”

Azriel was taken aback. Usually kids, parents included, shied away from him. They were all too intimidated by him; by his title, his shadows... his scars. So Azriel stopped bothering about them altogether. So for this little girl to be so unabashedly reprimanding him for causing her to drop her ice cream, definitely took him by surprise.

“I’m sorry?” Azriel asked, still not grasping the situation at hand.

“You should really watch where you’re going. That was my favourite flavour and its gone because of you.”

Azriel looked around, trying to locate either of the child’s parents, not wanting to abandon her in the middle of the busy street. Just as he was about to ask her where they were, a woman exited one of the shops and frantically ran over to them. And Azriel’s heart stopped. Before him now was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. The golden light of the Summer sun made you glow as you rushed over. And Azriel was once again speechless, this time by your breath-taking beauty.

“Aria! How many times have I told you to stay close to me. You know you’re not allowed to wander off,” you reprimanded, not even noticing him standing there, watching you, enamoured.

“Mama, I was just waiting for you outside. Its so stuffy in there. And I was just having my ice cream when this man pushed me!”

The blatantly untrue accusation broke him out of his reverie. Azriel made an incredulous sound and shot back,

“I did not! You were in my way.”

The woman then, finally, turned to take him in. Her eyes wide, obviously realising who he was. She started to apologise when her daughter interrupted her again,

“Well you should keep your eyes open while walking, mister. You have to buy me a new ice cream now.”

“Aria!” you started, horror etched across her face, then turning to him she continued, “I’m so sorry. She’s not usually like this, I don’t know what has gotten into her...”

“Please, no need to apologise. I mean, she’s not wrong. I was a bit preoccupied. I should have noticed her,” Azriel agreed all of a sudden, overcome by a need to appease you, wanting to ease the frown marring her beautiful face. Woah. Where did that come from? You had a daughter, so you must have a husband. Therefore he shouldn’t be finding you anything... let alone beautiful.

‘She’s alone, master.’

His shadows, ever the busy bodies, whispered to him. Well that certainly wasn’t any excuse. If she was alone right now, that didn’t mean she didn’t have someone waiting for her somewhere. Although, looking down he notices the stark absence of a ring on her left hand. Strange...

“Exactly. You were in the wrong. So now you have to buy me a new ice cream,” Aria stated, matter of fairly. Azriel laughed at her dedication to her ice cream before asking,

“Well I have to run right now. I was running some errands for my family. Can I get a rain check?”

“Mama what’s a rain check? It’s not going to rain today, the weather so hot, I’m boiling,” Aria inquired, her brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of the word.

“A rain check is when you postpone something and ask for a later date,” you explained.

“Oh. Then when will you buy me ice cream then, mister?” Aria rambled on, unfazed completely.

Both of you laughed at her dedication to her ice cream. Turning to each other you both exchanged names. After some back and forth, the two of you decided to meet at an ice cream parlour that had just opened in town. Azriel had heard nothing but praises of the place from Nesta and the Valkyries who frequented the place often in their book buying sprees.

Several years later, Azriel would remember to thank Morrigan for sending him out that day. As Azriel flew back home, smiling to himself at the ice cream date he now somehow had with the two of you, he was oblivious to the fact that he had just met the love of his life.

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

The ice cream date had been just the beginning of the beautiful journey the three of them would embark on together. The very first thing Azriel had learned about you was that you and Aria were all by yourselves. Aria’s dad, the fucking prick, had taken off just as you had gotten pregnant and had never looked back. The fact shouldn’t have made him as glad as it did. Yes, Azriel was enraged on your behalf and had half the mind of asking you his name just so he could hunt the bastard down. But he was happy because it meant you weren’t off limits. It meant he could maybe, just maybe, convince you to give him a chance.

Although as time passed, Azriel realised it wasn’t you who needed convincing; it was Aria. The eight year old girl was so much more smarter than he had given her credit for. She seemed protective of you in a way. Overtime she put Azriel through so many of, what he later realised, were tests to see if he would stay for the two of them, if he wasn’t just playing around. This continued for some time even after the two of you had officially started dating.

One day, he had been in the middle of going through reports for Rhys, when one his shadows who he always left with the two of you appeared by his side and frantically pulled him up. He had immediately winnowed to your house, knowing his shadow would only leave the two of you if it was an emergency. To say he had been scared would be an understatement. His heart had dropped as he arrived, mind instantly assuming the worst possible scenarios. Was Aria hurt? Were you? What if one of his enemies had gotten to the two of you? If anyone had hurt a single hair on your head, he would-

Storming into the kitchen, Azriel was met by a site of absolute chaos. He was relieved to find the two of you safe and sound. But his relief was short lived, and was replaced by confusion at the state of the usually meticulous kitchen.

Not a single inch of the counter top was empty. Dishes and flour and sugar (was that maple syrup?) were thrown around haphazardly.

You were wiping down the spilled flour when you noticed his presence. Looking up, you exclaimed,

“Oh, Az. When did you get here?”

“Just now. What... what happened here, love?” he inquired, slowly making his way over as he tried to navigate through the mess strewn on the floor.

“Well, I had thought since today was Saturday I could get some more sleep in. But this little miss decided to take it upon herself to make breakfast today,” you answered as you turned to Aria, levelling her with a glare. Azriel was glad he wasn’t on the receiving end. While you were usually the most kind hearted, amicable person he had ever met, he knew you could be firm when you wanted to. Whether that was with Aria whenever she wouldn’t cooperate or some stranger trying to mess with her.

Speaking of Aria, the shadow that had alerted him in the first place, was now playfully slinking around at her feet, like a goddamn pet dog. Ah, the power the two of you had. You, with your endless love and adoration, had reduced Azriel to a love sick puppy within a few months of being together. And little Aria had trained his shadows, the source of his power, the bringer of death and pain for many, to eager puppies. Ah, how love changes a person.

Aria turned to him with a cheeky grin and said,

“I just wanted to do something nice for Mama.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm. I don’t know how it got so messy. That’s why i called you here, Azzy. So you can help her clean up,” Aria answered. Another habit the little girl had was giving him the strangest of nicknames.

“Darling, I don’t think that’s why I left my shadows here. You scared me, you know. I thought something happened,” Azriel admonished. While he was always joking around with her, he felt it was important to teach her some responsibility from time to time.

“Aria!” you remarked as you overheard what your daughter had done.

“What? It’s just so much! And Azzy doesn’t mind. Do you, Azzy?”

“No, no I don’t,” Azriel said as he huffed a laugh. He would do anything for the two of you.

Azriel rolled up his sleeves and started gathering up all the dishes to move to the sink. You were dusting off the spilled flour while Aria observed from the corner. The two of you had forbidden her from entering the kitchen while they cleaned. The little devil would surely have created an even bigger mess.

With all the dishes piled up, Azriel was just about to start washing them when Aria slowly tip toed over to him. With her hands behind her back, an innocent smile on her face, she made it impossible for him to scold her anymore.

“Azzy. I have to tell you something,” Aria whispered. He gestured for her to continue but she shook her head,

“No, no. Come here. Its a secret.”

Azriel sighed and leaned down, knowing the little girl would not relent until she got her way. As Azriel leaned closer so she could say whatever she had to, he was met by her palm smacking across his right cheek. Erupting in giggles, Aria ran away before either of them could say anything.

Standing up, Azriel simply stared at you as your hand flew to your mouth to stop your own laughter. If only his brothers could see him now; standing in a kitchen, doing dishes in a house not his own, cheek covered in a hand print of flour. They would surely think he had been replaced by some clone.

Laughing, you walked over to him. You wiped off the flour covering his face, then wrapped your arms around his waist.

“I’m sorry darling. I hope she didn’t interrupt anything important,” you said as you leaned closer.

“Nonsense. Nothing’s more important to me than you. I’d do anything for my girls,” he replied firmly, hoping you understood how much the two of you meant to him.

“I love you Azriel.”

“I love you too,” Azriel replied, with his own smirk. Before you could have the chance to move away, he had grabbed some flour from a stray bowl and blown it all across your face.

Azriel erupted in laughter, at your expression, at your now completely white face.

“Oh you little shit,” you snapped as you reached over for some flour of your own.

The sight was truly comical; the two of you running around like maniacs, chucking flour at each other. The house filled with sounds of laughter and joy.

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

Several months later, Azriel was staying over at your place for the night. Having been gone to the Winter Court for some recon, Azriel had been away from his girls long enough that he had jumped at the offer.

You were already in bed, waiting for him. Knowing you had a long day at work, Azriel had offered to put away the dishes after dinner and put Aria to bed as well. You had refused at first, knowing he had just returned home and surely must be exhausted as well. But Azriel had heard none of it and had sent you off with your favourite novel and a warm cup of tea.

With everything else done, Azriel now lay in bed with Aria, reading her a story as she slowly dozed off. One thing about Aria was that whenever she was with Azriel, whether that was while he was reading her a bed time story, or sitting on his lap for dinner, or while she rambled about her school to him, she always took his hand. And that always took his breath away.

Just like right now, Aria had his right hand clutched in both of hers. Her soft hands rubbing shapes into his hand, smoothing over the rough scars. When the two of you had started getting closer, he had been hesitant in initiating any contact with Aria, had always kept his distance, since he thought his scars might scare her. You, however had interpreted it as not wanting anything to do with your daughter. And you had expressed this to him with tears in your eyes. Tears that had almost killed him, to think that he had been the cause of your distress. It was then that he had told you of his own insecurities, how he was afraid that his scars might bother the innocent little girl. You had immediately tried to ease his doubt, assuring him that they had never thought any different of him because of his scarred hands.

Looking down, he saw Aria had gone to sleep. He put away the book and slowly eased his hand from hers. He had pulled up the blanket around her, making sure she was properly tucked in. He was just about to get up and leave, when Aria roused. Internally cursing himself for waking her up, Azriel made to run his hands through her hair, knowing it always puts her straight to sleep.

Aria, however, sat up on the bed and threw her arms around his neck whispering,

“I love you, papa. Goodnight.”

And then just as quick got back in bed and went to sleep. Azriel was frozen in place. Tears rolled freely down his face. Aria had never called him that before. Always referring to him through her silly nicknames. And to think... she trusted him enough to consider him her father... it was more than anything Azriel could ever ask for in life.

Leaning down, he kissed the top of her head and slowly said,

“I love you too, my angel.”

Azriel tip toed his way to the door and closed it silently behind him, not wanting to wake the child again.

He moved away from the door quietly for a moment, before practically running down the hallway to tell you what had inspired.

Later that night, as he lay with you in his arms, Azriel couldn’t believe any of this was real. He had a girlfriend, who he loved more than the stars in the sky, who he would give and take a life for. He had a... daughter. He had a family of his own. Each night, he would say a silent prayer to the Mother. Thanking her for bestowing this gift upon him. Azriel knew an eternity would not be enough to express his gratitude, his devotion, to the two of you. His two angels.

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel imagine #acotar hc #acotar headcanon #azriel headcanon #azriel headcanons #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x oc #acotar fanfiction #imagine acotar #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #acotar #acotar fic

[ae-neon]

The House of Mirrors

Chapter 7

The boutique on Helena Avenue was bigger than Nesta had imagined it would be. The building, like most in the silver quarter, was chic; new; metal and glass. A part of the city that shined as well as the metal from which it got its name.

While she was glad Rhysand had gotten them the invitations – certain it was the first step in the right direction to ensure Feyre’s happiness – they had come at such short notice that it would be almost impossible to find anything suitable to wear.

On the slimmest chance, Nesta had followed a link from her favourite designer to see they were partnered with a store in the city which boasted a small circle of designers all being sold under the same label: Astra Ardour.

She’d emailed the designer, banking on some favour as a long-time client and received a reply that while they themselves were out of the country, they had made a special arrangement with the store managers.

It was even more luck that on arrival Elain was somewhat familiar with the twin managers, Nuala and Cerridwen.

After some back and forth it became clear the Astra Ardour and Elain’s florist shared a large pool of clients with respect to weddings. Elain charmed them with stories of designing bouquets to match their beautiful dresses, recounting some in detail that had the women grinning.

In turn, the consultation and fittings seemed to breeze by with Nuala and Cerridwen showing off not only their fashion expertise and diverse selection but their ability to mediate between Estanna who insisted on more modest, traditional clothing and Feyre whose personality could only be captured in the bold and modern.

In the end, it was their mother forced to give in to a sleek, high waisted suit on which the pair offered to print one of Feyre’s own artworks.

Elain was matched with a fitted pink dress with a heart shaped neckline, subverted by an almost scandalous thigh slit, hemmed in soft pink ruffles that drew even more attention to the skin it showed.

Nesta opted for something simple she could buy on the spot, citing time constraints and wanting to pay the designer back for the favour.

Modest. Black. Repentant. Widow.

Her mother approved, at least; mouth less tensed once she saw Nesta wave off a white dress with daring cutouts along the side.

Nesta had noted the difference before, most recently in the way Feyre threw herself onto the couch between their parents to show off the Gala tickets and the names of the artists attending.

At that age Nesta had been well behaved, academically outstanding and ready to marry a man she did not know without question.

She did not resent Feyre. But it was difficult to not feel some envy.

Feyre had prodigious art talent that set a clear purpose early in life; a pursuit their parents encouraged, pleased when they received just as much praise for her achievements as she did.

And later, when puberty hit, Feyre had Nesta and Elain to fix what they could and cover what they could not – fearful they might shoulder the blame of not setting good enough examples.

Feyre moved through life with open heart – unafraid to express as freely and as fully as it felt.

And even now – violet eyes and an easy grin, art on the wall and the best cheesecake she had ever tasted...

Nesta caught the thought before it fully formed. She would not allow herself to envy that.

~

He had not heard from her in a week.

In truth he had no reason to, was sure she was busy preparing for the Gala if Mor’s to and fro from fittings was any indication of how much more women had to endure simply out of expectation, and he would be reunited with all three Archerons at the Gala anyways.

But he had sworn to himself he would uncover the mystery of Nesta, that it was a necessary precaution and having her go dark was not a good start.

He knew, at least, that she had not made any further contact with Amren and made no attempt to contact Azriel either.

So how had she been spending her days?

His distraction had cost him when it meant Cassian caught him off guard during their early morning sparring.

“You’re distracted,” Cassian had warned.

“I’m thinking.”

“About something more important than my fist flying into your face?” his cousin, hair up in a small bun and tribal tattoos inked across his chest, took a step back and relaxed his stance, “Whatever it is, get it out of your system somewhere else.”

From anyone else, the words might have been a jab meant to rile but Cassian knew enough about the damage humans could inflict on one another to respect it.

They were both better at fighting than they should have been, had been raised by hard men who sought to instill iron into their sons. And had been honed into weapons under the heat of their mandatory military service in Illyria.

Cassian’s steel had at least been born out of some sense of love and pride in tradition, one that grew a ferocious passion in him.

Rhysand’s had come with a crueler sense of purpose. “Hit them so they don’t get back up. Hit them so they get scared to ever question their existence below you. Hit them so that you never question it either.”

When Azriel began joining them, he sensed a similar cold brutality behind the mercenary's eyes.

Only someone as deranged as Cassian, who somehow grew more deadly with each hit, could match them in a fight.

In the ring at least.

Cassian swore as Mor won again.

They sat on the sofa, console controllers in hand, as Azriel and Rhys watched them duel from the dining table.

Mor had almost torn Rhys’ head off when she spotted the bruised swelling of his right cheek. She’d also challenged Cassian in retribution and whoever lost would be in charge of meals for the week.

“She cheats.” Cas said, shoving his controller towards Azriel who met the blonde's bloodthirsty grin with a worried frown.

“He’s just saying that because he’s the worst one here.” Mor said, picking her fighter.

“She definitely cheats.” Rhys warned in Illyrian before he turned back to his laptop and the financial report on Veritas Industries that let him know Keir couldn’t afford to play too close to the edge.

The current financial situation would slow his uncle down enough to give Rhys time to focus on pulling the strings that would secure his foothold in the inner city.

At the gala, Mor would let it slip to some chatterbox socialite that Rhys had his eye on someone there. Then at the New Year’s Starfall ball, Feyre would appear at his side with a ring on her finger.

By the beginning of Spring, they’d be married in a lavish ceremony and all the while he would have gained everything he needed to drive the Hybernians out of the city.

Everything was going according to plan…and yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still missing some piece of the puzzle.

#the house of mirrors #acotar modern au #nesta archeron #rhysta #acotar fanfic #my writing #nestaweek2023 #day 7: free day

[saccharinerose]

Final thoughts on ACOMAF

This book felt like it was actively fighting against my trying to finish it. It was a SLOG to get through, like wading through tar on a treadmill. At some point I started just skimming through pages and even that took an eternity.

I would give SJM kudos for the whole "I just fell in love with the first guy who showed me kindness and security" thing... if Feyre's endgame wasn't Rhysand, the literal second guy who showed her kindness and security. The message just falls kinda flat...

I was suprised the book started out relatively tame with Tamlin's descend into the token hatesink but the descend did happen eventually. I honestly would prefer if he just vanished from the story bc there’s nothing I hate reading about more than a hatesink. If I had cared about his character  in the first book more than I care about stale bread, I might have been annoyed. But I don’t, so I wasn’t.

I find it funny that this book invented a whole new Being That Knows Things for Feyre to ask questions lmao I guess the Suriel was busy in the first half of the book.

The funniest scene was actually with said Being That Knows Things (the Bone Carver) when Rhysand says something and the sound of his voice was described as "velvet over the sharpest steel" (aka the most laughed-at euphemism for dick) or something and I went "Ah, he sounded penis-y"

My favourite part was the awkward dinner with Feyre's sisters because imo it is the only scene that accomplished what it set out to do. It was meant to be an uncomfortable, awkward situation and it felt uncomfortable and awkward. No other scene in the book made me feel the intended feeling.

Well, I guess the ending was somewhat enjoyable too... but maybe that was just the beckoning of sweet release

I still hate Rhys, despite this book trying its damnest to be a wholeass PR campaign for him. It's almost laughably transparent. Everytime he said "Feyre darling" made cringe for the first couple time then gag. Everytime he purred I wanted to spray him with a spray bottle.

Rhysand's Inner Circle is absolutely obnoxious and completely fell flat at an attempt to show a close-knit friend group. They act like 20-somethings who peaked as jocks/mean girls in high school, not 500+ year old immortal beings. 

I also did not buy Feyre's friendship with any of them for a second.

Amren could have been fun. Definitely conceptionally interesting. But the execution was absolutely lackluster. Her smug superiority does not feel functionally different from any other character's. I was also actively disappointed when she just turned out to drink blood instead of something actually horrifying.

Mor does not deserve to be called The Morrigan. I actually got angry at that. The Morrigan had fuck all to do with truth. She was a goddess associated with war, battle and death. Mor can be called Morrigan but not The Morrigan.

An even bigger fuck you was Cerridwen the maid though.

Velaris is unsettling. It's basically faerie Ba Sing Se, but if Ba Sing Se wasn't known to the general public. Everytime the book bust a nut about how super amazing and wonderful Velaris is, I could only think "uhh this place is super weird..."

The world itself is almost hilariously black-and-white. I can not name one good aspect of either the Court of Nightmares, Hybern or the Illyrians

If someone is intended to be evil, everything about them will be EVIL EVIL. Even the architecture!

The Mortal Queens don't bow down to Rhysand, the best thing since sliced bread according to SJM, and enthusiastically hand over an ancient powerful magic artifact? Oh, they’re definitely irredeemably evil. Especially the ugly and old ones, the only beautiful one gets to die horribly after she outlived her usefullness for the protagonists.

SPEAKING OFF, during the first description of the Mortal Queens, I could immidiately predict which one of them was going 1) important, 2) nice and then 3) die horribly. It happened exactly as I expected.

This book also started to really lean into the Humans Bad and Fae Good And Beautiful. The book started with Feyre being "an immortal with a mortal heart" and by the end of it, she had happily drunk the fae superiority koolaid.

I also find it funny how the book and Feyre pat themselves on the back for caring so much about ~*~Lesser Fae~*~ and their oppression but the only Lesser Fae who ever get to be major character are the 3 Hot Wing Warrior Men. The only other named Lesser Fae characters... are maids

Also the male characters have some of the worst drip in book history imo. Literally always just one sentence descriptions of black tunics or jackets. Boring.

I still violently and with an intense, burning fury hate SJM's fae and the use of male and female as nouns. And now we have the Invasion of the Australians with "mate" being said at least 20 times every chapter.

Every scene describing “fae” culture using male (noun) and female (noun) was fun to read in a David Attenborough voice though (”The female offers her mate food to show she has accepted the bond” feels like it would be right at home in some fantasy nature documentary)

Sex scenes were... meh.

At the very least, this book is an effective advertisment for couple's counseling and therapy. Someone should really invent that for Prythian. Might prevent a war next time

I need a much longer break if I ever want to actually torture myself with the third book...

#saccha reads acomaf #anti acomaf #anti acotar #anti sjm

[windupnamazu]

apples to apples

ffxivwrite2022 #10: channel emulate or seem to be inspired by.

lunya/g'raha and their kids, with several mentions: @nuclearanomaly's ninira; @whitherliliesbloom's illya, eulalie, and ipheion; @fistsoflightning's oki; and @hqmillioncorn's cherrypit. post-canon/future fic. 1293wc. ⮞ they say the mirror apple doesn't fall far from the tree, but g'raha and luneth probably could have done this in a less embarrassing manner.

The double cry of "we're home!" drew some but not all eyes away from the board game the family was gathered around at the entrance hall's coffee table.

Lunya's smile grew at the sight of her twins in the doorway, pulling off backpacks and belt attachments and kicking off their shoes. Their father was distracted, frowning at his dice rolls and muttering beneath his breath as he shifted tokens on his faction card—one of the perils of playing a war game with a competitive Sharlayan and former leader of a city-state—but when Nynya bounced over to press her cheek to his own G'raha was all warmth as he reached up to ruffle her hair.

"Welcome back," Lunya cooed as Nynya gave her her beso next while Luneth followed behind her, greeting G'raha first. The week had been long without them around the house, but they both had the satisfied glow of completing a good adventure. "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah!" her little spark chirped, plopping onto the floor by her feet and immediately pawing her sister's hand out of the way in the tortilla chip bowl. Chichiro rolled her eyes, swatting back good naturedly before retreating to spoon more salsa on her plate. "We stopped by Tita Nini's place first thing and she gave Luneth this sick new robe!" (What she didn't say was that the three of them then gorged themselves on Ninira's gigantic stash of cookies she'd been saving for them, forcing Estinien to babysit them overnight as they griped about stomach aches and nausea and Luneth's hypoglycemia kicking in.)

"Second-Mama's Boy," Liliru coughed, sticking her tongue out when Luneth scrunched his face at her. The kids were quite fond of their boldly hypocritical proclamations; none of them were shy about having favourites among Lunya and G'raha's extended family of friends, which Lunya had been far too slow to realize in order to stomp it out of any of them early enough.

Linnet dropped her tortilla chip in the guacamole as she looked up, which Colala snatched and stuffed right in her mouth before she could realize she had. "She's right, sick robe, Neth! Wait, where's my chip?"

The "sick robe" in question was a long cape coat made in a deep blue that shimmered like the night, lined with gold embroidery of four-point stars and constellations, silk tassels and crystals hanging from looping chains at his waist. Inside the hood was a lining made from authentic Thavnairian silk, gold and silver brocade shimmering throughout. Luneth flushed at all the sudden attention and sank into the plush ottoman to Nynya's left, though he was clearly overjoyed with their aunt's gift.

"Oh, oh, get a load of this," Nynya faux-whispered conspiratorially, her sisters and mom leaning in closer. "We stumbled on the Leveilleur twins in Mor Dhona, and y'know what Luneth did?"

"Nynya," hissed Luneth, which meant that this story was going to be particularly juicy. He kicked at her ankle and she yelped as she jerked it away, banging her knee on the underside of the table as she did. "Nynya, stop talking."

But Nynya refused. "He climbed the scaffolding above the Find and jumped into the middle of their conversation!!!" Lunya nearly screamed. On her right, G'raha went completely still. "I thought he was gonna break his legs!"

"Did he do a flip?" Chichiro wondered.

"Doubt it," Liliru decided. "In front of Ate Eu? He'd mess up his hair."

"And Mr. Rammbroes doesn't even blink, he just goes, well, if it isn't G'raha's runt! I take it you're interested in Allagan history as well! and Ipheion's staring at Lun like he's grown another head and I thought Eu was going to faint and we'd have to call Tito Al's linkpearl like, hey sorry, my supergenius brother thought he could impress your daughter by giving her a HEART ATTACK—"

"Alphinaud's done worse to show off in front of Liya," Lunya dismissed. "Like the sea urchin incident."

"So he sets us up with a job (yes, Mama, we got paid, I was listening when you told us we can't just do every task for free) to protect this relic that's being targeted by Ilsabardian smugglers, and it turned into this WHOLE THING. Also he said something about the scaffolding in the Find being far too old for the men in our family to keep doing 'that sort of thing' on?"

Luneth and G'raha both seemed to be trying to melt through the furniture as Nynya's story picked up speed.

"—so we gather in the hall BUT THEN," Nynya began to yell all while she was leaping up and down in a bold impression of a younger Lunya or perhaps a frog, "THE GIGAS START BREAKING DOWN THE DOOR, AND YOU KNOW HOW HELPFUL AND RESPONSIBLE OUR LUN IS, RIGHT?"

"Yeaaaah," their sisters chimed in long-suffering unison. Little old ladies loved Luneth as much as their friends complained that their parents were always going on about how they should act more like him.

"HE SLAMS HIS STAFF IN THE GROUND AND HE SAYS—" If the other inhabitants of the house weren't listening in before, they certainly were now, and Lunya thought she caught a flash of her and Luneth's carbuncles zipping after Gyosei through the growing crowd of legs upstairs as Nynya dropped her voice to a pitch more like Luneth's in a rather impressive display of vocal control. "—HEED ME, MY FRIENDS—"

"WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS," Luneth wailed as he jumped to his feet and began to rattle Nynya like a salt shaker. The absurdity of it all was only amplified with their height difference—when Luneth finally hit his growth spurt at fifteen summers he nearly doubled in height and was now a solid ilm taller than G'raha, to the horror of literally everyone else in the house. Admittingly, he was still considered short to the rest of Etheirys, but his mother was a Lalafell. "WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS!!!"

"Indoor voices," Lunya reminded them serenely.

For her ears alone G'raha murmured, "My lodestar," his face red with the trials of enduring second-hand embarrassment and refreshing a memory over two decades old that you were hoping to lose as you approached your 50s, "have pity on our son."

As she always had when he was being silly, Lunya simply reached up and patted his cheek indulgently. "Nah."

"—WE RISE TO UNLIMITED HEIGHTS WHEN WE STAND TOGETHER," Nynya bellowed with a hysterical cackle, voice warbling as Luneth continued to shake her. "TOGETHER, WE CAN ONLY PREVAIL! Eulalie thought this was all very cool, by the way, but Oki thought it would've been better if we threw flower petals while he was making the speech."

"Asdbhfbwngawba," Luneth babbled as he dropped his twin and hid his face in his fancy sleeves.

"Awww, our baby boy's all grown up," Linnet said dotingly. "Look at him, impressing girls."

Chichiro harrumphed. "To think it was just yesterday he was begging us to order his meals for him."

Doing a very terrible attempt at holding back a shit-eating grin, Lunya looked her husband in the eye as she squeezed his knee. "This sounds an awful lot like some of the stunts you pulled when we were younger, Lord Exarch."

G'raha pulled his glasses from his nose so he could bury his face in his hands, making it especially clear which of his parents Luneth got that habit from. "It's… not too late to stop telling them tales…"

"Don't worry, Papa," Liliru said with a patient-yet-remarkably-condescending pat to G'raha's elbow as she offered him a chip, the board game now forgotten completely in between the bowls and plates of that evening's meryenda. "Titito Cherry's already told us all the cringe shit you did when he was a baby."

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2022 #g'raha tia #oc: lunya #oc: linnet #oc: nynya #oc: luneth #oc: chichiro #oc: liliru #g: miqo'fell syrcus #tales from the warriors of light #colala is also here but like shes just there eating chips #*

[longsightmyth]

anti-sjm sentiments increase after every book she releases, which is great, but something deeply uncomfortable I'm realizing, especially in the anti-acotar community, is that ... a lot of new antis do not actually care about the deeply problematic elements and patterns of sjm's works, but only care about them in the context of their favourite character. It's the same mindset as the stan community with the "anti" name.

some Feyre stans, for example (or rather Feysand stans, idk if she has stans of her own because sjm hasn't given her a fucking personality to stand on) are very disillusioned and pissed off with the crap Rhys pulls on her in acofas and acosf, but fail to understand that it is not a random 180 degree character change, it's a perfectly predictable pattern of behaviour from the time he abused her in acotar, something they still continue to dismiss or deny.

Tamlin is another character - while there has been renewed attention given to the way he's treated very unfairly in the narrative (which is good!), some new fans of his veer very close to outright woobificafion. I read a post that criticized Feyre for getting together with rhysand so fast after Tamlin, because it was - I kid you not - disrespectful to Tamlin and her relationship with him. yeah. the dude who emotionally and physically abused her - that's who she should be respecting. I've seen his relationship with Lucien get romantisized as well.

Nesta fans (and I'm one of them so it's doubly irritating) are rightfully furious at how badly sjm treats her, and how the narrative harps on that while blissfully ignoring the crap that other characters have done. But there's...no need to deny & dismiss the fact that she genuinely was very shitty to Feyre in the beginning of acotar (and feyre is very shitty to her now). Like, it's fine to acknowledge it lol, it doesn't mean to have to like Nesta less as a character. And so many stans also ship her with Cassian, which I genuinely do not understand because if they really cared about her, why the fuck are they shipping her with her abuser? Some of those people were rightfully outraged after Silver Flames, but it's the same as feysand fans - they ignore the pattern of abuse that's been existent since Wings and Embers. and some Nesta fans ship her with ERIS of all characters, good god.

Mor's treatment is a fucking mess. She's dismissed by a lot of people, and from what i've seen, there are quite a few Nesta stans vehemently hate her. Which I get to an extent, because she was terrible to Nesta in acosf, but maybe acknowledge that this is the same person who helped Feyre contrary to Rhys's wishes in acomaf, and the fact that she's queer was a complete retcon by sjm followed by a downgrade in her narrative importance, her powers, and her likeability. And that Azriel pursuing her for 500+ years is is fucking CREEPY, she is terribly unnerved and uncomfortable by it, meaning she in *also* in a deeply toxic situation. and I think sometimes she's blamed for sleeping with Cassian, too, idk. People who write pages describing how unfairly other female characters are treated but make no room for her are automatically disregarded by me lol.

... anyway, yeah. I'm not sure this makes sense, I don't remember exact details of the series so maybe I've missed my mark at places, but this is what I've observed.

No I think you're right - it's frustrating when there are problems with a series (especially serious ones) that people either don't see or ignore until it impacts a character or facet of the story they care about.

And yes, while the treatment of women in the series is pretty crappy, the treatment of women IN the series by fandom is even crappier. Whatever you (general you) feel Mor's sexuality is, it shouldn't matter: someone who has shown no interest in another person for 500 YEARS is not at fault for the other person continuing to lust after them, and it rubbed me the wrong way that the only way Feyre could excuse Mor not being into Azriel was that Mor is into women.

In short, the books tie into and encourage protagonist-centered morality, and while the books themselves hold Rhys up as the ultimate protagonist, fans are going to have different favorites.

(I’m sorry this took so long to answer, apparently I typed it up and put it in drafts?!)

#myth rags on a court of thorns and roses

[writingsbychlo]

UNDER THE MISTLETOE (prologue)

summary; a surprise gift from your allies in the Winter Court brings a brand new opportunity for you and the shadowsinger. word count; 2106 notes; this is the beginning of not only a new series, but my first az series! I'm writing as I go, it's not all done, so stick with me on this one, okay? happy holidays, this series is my gift to you all x

Swilling around the last of the wine in your glass, you watched the sweet liquid glitter under the low faelights of Rhys’ sinning room, chuckling on cue at another retelling of one of Cassian’s favourite stories. Alright, you’d heard this story every solstice for almost three decades, but it was practically tradition now. Listening to the general recount ‘that one time Mor fell in the Sidra with all her gift-bags and had to repurchase everything’ somehow never seemed to get old, he had a way of telling stories that made them brand new every time.

However, the recent addition of Feyre to all of these new stories made it that much more touching, watching her face light up as she discovered everything about the group with a fresh perspective. “Wait, doesn’t the Sidra freeze over in, like, October? Did you fall clean through the ice? How did you survive?”

The High Lady was all but gaping at your blonde friend, who only smirked, while Amren scoffed lightly. “Oh, no, Mor here likes to do all her shopping in advance. She’s late to practically every event, but she’s always prepared for them.”

“It’s called being fashionably late, Amren, not that you’d know anything about fashion. You exclusively wear monotone drab!” Mor snipped back, and when Amren’s eyes narrowed at her, ‘challenge accepted’ silently exchanged, you leaned back to get more comfortable in your seat.

“You exclusively wear red. Do not preach to me about fashion choices, girl, when half of your wardrobe consists of what can only be described as scraps of fabric.” Her words were harsh, and yet somehow, there was an underlying warmth to them, to soften the blow, and Mor held her gaze for a second, before both broke out into grins. 

“I don’t know how you do it,” Feyre sighed, shifting her son from his high chair and onto her lap as he gurgled and sucked on the tips of his own fingers. “I can never work out what to get for anyone, no matter how hard I try, I always end up last-minute panic-buying!” She sighed at herself, and you twisted to face her. 

“That’s not a you thing, that's a mate thing. Just another thing you and Rhys have in common.” The lord scoffed, turning to stare at you past Cassian as he and Nesta kicked at one another under the table in the world’s most aggressive game of footsie. 

“What are you trying to say, exactly?” Violet eyes narrowed on you, and you only shrugged, Under that mock-glare, shadows curled protectively over your shoulders loosely, from the shadowsinger sitting on your other side.

“All I’m saying, Rhys, is that in every other aspect of your life you’re incredibly prepared. Yet I have watched you turn up on my doorstep for decades in a row, in a total mess because you realised that you had no gifts at all the day before Solstice.” You shrugged, and he only huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and slouching back in his seat like a petulant child.

“Oh, yeah? Well, perhaps I should have held out on delivering this one.” You didn’t even get a moment to be confused, before he was waving a hand and from the tendrils of smoky darkness, a box fell into your lap, rattling the cutlery as it caught the tablecloth with its entrance. 

“What’s this, an early solstice present? You should have waited for tomorrow night.” You beamed, and all attention around the table seemed to shift to you. Lucien and Elain pulled away from their happy chatter on mumbled breaths, Nesta and Cass seemed to call a truce on their foot war, and Feyre stopped her baby-talk. Even Nyx’s babble ceased momentarily, eyes wide and chubby fingers grabbing at the glittering remnants of his father’s magic on the air. Azriel leaned over, the earthy scent of cedar and mist washing over you in layers as he examined the box. 

Turning to look at him, you got a split-second of an uninterrupted view, close enough to pick out the tiny marks along his skin, the shadow of stubble that was freshly shaved along his skin, the healed-over holes in his ear from his younger phase of having rings decorating it. Then, he turned, bright hazel eyes flicking between yours, a frown sitting on his lips. “It’s got a Winter Court seal.”

“It arrived this morning.” Rhys broke the tension, Azriel leaning back into his seat and out of your space, and as you smoothed your fingers over the pretty box, you watched shadows dart around the seams, trying to break in. You swatted at Azriel’s leg, smirking at the breath he rushed out. 

“Stop prying, let me open it before you know what it is.”

“Stop making us all wait, darling, we’re practically dying of anticipation.” He finished off his drink, and Mor only hummed in agreement. “It seems you made an even better impression over there than you let on. We should send you to make more alliances. Now open that box up, that’s an order.”

“The key is to see it as making friends, not alliances, my lord.” He didn’t bother to give an answer, and you tugged on the tightly knotted bows holding it all closed. The second you free the lid from the box and set it down, a single shadow leapt inside, sweeping through the tissue paper and investigating whatever lay underneath, before reporting back to its master. He seemed satisfied with the findings.

Pushing the coloured tissue out of the way, the first thing revealed to you was an embossed envelope. Lifting it up, you flipped it, finding the pale blue wax seal on the back. Cassian gave up on patience, swiping the box from your lap as you thumbed under the wax stamp to pop it open. Rifling through the package and leaving a heap of torn gift wrap in his wake, Cassian cheered as he pulled out a box of chocolates. “Mine! I called it!”

“You can’t just call it on someone else’s gift!” Mor argued, grabbing for the box as she leaned across the table, and Cassian only smirked. 

“Don’t be jealous just because you didn’t get there first.”

“Now, now, share children,” Rhys muttered, and Nyx picked up one of the ribbons from the table, squealing happily s he waved it around in the air, watching the tail end move. “There’s enough chocolate there to go around.”

“Look at this pretty scarf!” Mor cheered, pulling a hand-knit scarf from the box. It was white, black threads woven through every so often with shimmering glitter barely visible, and tassels adorning the ends. 

Pulling the letter out from within, your eyes scanned over the page, and you could practically feel stoic curiosity pouring out of the man next to you. His impatience was almost stifling. Twisting in your seat and leaning over to him so he could read the letter at the same time as you. That same dissatisfaction turned to placated joy, and the moment you finished reading, his fingers brushed yours as he took the letter from your hands. As soon as he finished reading, it was disappearing from his grip altogether, reappearing in Rhysand’s hands so he could read it too. 

“I've been sent a traditional gift for their version of Solstice celebrations.” The scarf was still being passed around, Elain currently awing over the stitch-work as her mate watched her fawn, and you puffed up with some contented pride at the gift you’d been given. 

“It seems you’ve also been invited to join them for these so-called ‘Christmas’ celebrations.” All eyes once again turned to you, and silence fell across the table again, save for the crinkling of foil when Cassian unwrapped another truffle to pop into his mouth. You could only shrug in response, words escaping you. When you didn’t reply, didn’t offer the enthusiasm he’d clearly been expecting if the furrow in his brow was anything to judge by, he continued; “I think you should go.”

“You do?” 

“I do.” Folding the letter back up carefully and placing it down on the table, he folded his hands together on the surface, and you felt like you were being scrutinised as he took you in. His gaze then moved, only briefly, to Azriel behind you. “It’s a great opportunity, for many reasons. You’d not only be able to reaffirm the Night Court’s alliance with Winter, but you’d also be taking some much-needed time off. You work hard, don’t think I don’t appreciate it, but every time you take ‘time off’, you always end up working in some capacity. Clearly, the only way to get you to truly get some rest is to remove you from work entirely.” 

That made him smirk, and you couldn't disagree. It wasn’t that you were work-obsessed, or that you didn’t have hobbies and guilty pleasures, but it was simply that the work never stopped. When you watched it all pile up for your return, the appeal of taking time off was utterly diminished, until everything seemed easier to just keep going.

“You should take Azriel with you.” 

“What?” It was the exact thought going through your head, but it wasn’t your voice that spoke it. No, it was a much deeper voice, rough and heavy, so soothing it was like a weighted blanket wrapped around you with every word he spoke. “Why?”

Rhys didn’t deign to respond immediately. No, instead, he smirked at the way he left you hanging, refilling his wine glass with what was left of the fifth bottle of the night, and he took a long and slow gulp before putting it down. Licking his lips, you felt like you were seconds away from groaning out loud when he finally took a breath, “It’s a chance for Az to get out of the court for some desperately needed R&R too.”

“That’s it?” Azriel asked, and for the first time tonight, you didn’t agree with him. Twisting in your seat to stare at him, his arm bracketed you, sitting on the back of your hair, the other on the table to your side, and his attention moved swiftly from his brother to you. 

“What do you mean ‘that’s it’? You say that like you don’t deserve a break.”

“It’s not that, it’s just that it doesn’t seem like a good enough reason to send me away.” He shrugged, and you frown at him, watching the edges of his lips flicker up in evident amusement. “You’re staring at me like I kicked a puppy.”

Your eyes rolled. “I’m just.. you deserve a break too, Azriel. You don’t need any reason to take a break, never mind a good one.”

“So, it’s settled then. Azriel and (y/n) are going to the Winter Court for ‘Christmas’.” Rhys confirmed, a finality to his tone that suggested no arguing, and Azriel gaped at his brother. Some silent conversation seemed to be taking place between their gazes, and for a second, you wondered if it really was, but Rhys’ eyes didn’t go as vacant as they did when he was within someone else’s mind, and Azriel seemed entirely present too. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, brother. Think of it as work, if you must. You’re going to Winter as a guest, you’ll be granted a lot more access and many more privileges, and you can focus on nothing but understanding Winter Court more. We don’t know much about them, their culture, or their beliefs. It could be useful one day. Go and observe.”

Az seemed to want to argue, to object, and he moved his sights down from Rhysand to you. There must have been something on your face, your cheeks felt like they were stretching to form a smile, and the harsh mask he almost always wore softened just a touch as he looked at you. With a deep breath, Azriel simply muttered, “Okay.”

“Okay?” You echoed, cheeks pulling more, and you knew you were grinning now, especially when he gave a breathy laugh and dipped his head in a nod.

“Okay. We go to Winter Court.”

“Excellent! Rhys cheered, straightening at the table, and his son repeated the vague sound of the word in a baby-babble equivalent of his father’s enthusiasm. “I’ll make all the arrangements myself, you can leave right after Solstice.” With one more look at Azriel, you turned back to him, stealing two chocolates from the box Cassian was working his way through quickly, and passing one to your best friend behind you. “Now, how about we have some dessert?”

#azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel x you #azriel/you #azriel shadowsinger #acotar/you #acotar x you #acotar/reader #acotar x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses

[mahvaladara]

The mental/ emotional questions for Anika

For Anika it is. Again, applies to the moment I am now in game with them.

1. How intelligent is this character? Is he book-smart or street-smart? 

Anika has avarage intelligent. She's a hardworking A student. It helps that her father is a teacher and has always helped her with any difficulty she had in terms of school. She's more book-smart when it comes to Non-RoM life. She's always been fairly sheltered, mostly due to her mother's illness.

In RoM, however, her father has never stopped her from exploring her magical side. He believed that keeping her sheltered from magic would cause her more harm than good.

2. Does he think on his feet, or does he need time to deliberate? 

Anika is very intuitive and prone to taking decisions on the time. She thinks on her feet. When pressured, she tends to take quick impulsive decisions.

3. Describe the character’s thought process. Is he more logical, or more intuitive? Idealistic or practical? 

Again, Anika is more intuitive, also more idealistic. Again, results from her sheltered upbringing and being high-rich class. She believes in good and evil and believes in upholding justice and helping the others. But unlike Apollo, she's not as rigid.

4. What kind of education has the character had?

She has studied in private schools all her life and even in RoM, her magical education is supervised directly by her father, despite she leaning mor into the mischief+practical side of magic.

Her education was also more conservative, due to her mother. She has strong family and moral values as a result, but is not as rigid to them as her boyfriend.

  5. What are his areas of expertise? What, if anything, is he interested in learning more about? 

Anika is great at Sciences. It's her favourite subjects. She's also very good and PE and anything physical. People often call her sporty nerd or nerdy jock.

6. Is he an introvert or an extrovert? 

Extrovert through and through. She loves her friends.

7. Describe the character’s temperament. Is he even-tempered or does he have mood swings? Cheerful or melancholy? Laid-back or driven? 

She's more cheerful and laid-back. However, due to her more conservative upbringing, she's also a bit submissive, especially when pressured.

8. How does he respond to new people or situations? Is he suspicious, relaxed, timid, enthusiastic? 

She's very intusiastic and relaxed when responding to new people or new happy situation. Stressful situations however cause her immensive anxiety and she tends to act first, cry about it later.

9. Is he more likely to act, or to react? 

React.

10. Which is his default: fight or flight? 

Flight. If she can avoid a situation, she will.

11. Describe the character’s sense of humor. Does he appreciate jokes? Puns? Gallows humor? Bathroom humor? Pranks? 

She is very humorous. She enjoys jokes, and puns, gallows humor, pranks. She adores someone with a smart sense of humor. That's the one thing she does not like about Apollo (that she can consciously admit). He has 0 sense of humor. While she adores that about Arlo, guy can crack a joke about loosing his own penis!

12. Does the character have any diagnosable mental disorders? If yes, how does he deal with them? 

She does have PTSD due to what Robyn did to her. She also suffers from anxiety, but this one isn't as clear, neither in response or the trigger.

13. What moments in this character’s life have defined him as a person? 

Two moments will define her life. The first moment already happened both in game and story. That was when Roby mortally wounded her to force Apollo to share his heart with her.

The second is systematically and insidiously starting to happen.

Gaslighting

14. What does he fear? 

Anika fears being used, being hurt, and loosing those she loves. She fear loosing her dad, loosing her best friend, loosing Apollo, especially after she got his heart. He sacrificed so much for her.

15. What are his hopes or aspirations? 

She hopes to go to college and take a science degree. She also dreams of achieving the Virtuoso rank is Mischief and Practical Magic and become a magic teacher.

16. What is something he doesn’t want anyone to find out about him? 

She doesn't want to loose Apollo's heart. She wants to keep it, because she knows that heart is a dragon heart, and she knows that heart gives her immense power.

#anika #character development

[valkblue]

Hi Angie!! 👋🏻 2, 4, 6, 9, 10 & 13 for the writer’s asks!!

Alyssa!! 💙✨ How is your day going?!

2. Do you ever hand write any part of your story?

I used to! I used to fill notebooks covers to covers with chunks of a story, entire scenes, character designs and ideas, brainstorming about places and lore, sketches even… I liked it, but it grew old after a while as I piled notebooks after notebooks all full with notes and drawings I had to scan or painstakingly typed back on a computer afterwards…😫 It was taking way too long to transfer all that in a computer, too much physical space on my shelves and I found myself to never go back to any of them as they'd filled their purpose anyway. But I'm not a famous author, so I couldn't even sell them for charity to get rid of those piles of paper while making people happy to have something collector from their favourite author and stories, or something like that! A shame, really… 😁

Anyway, my life changed forever and for the better when I got my first phone with a good enough battery and storage space (and a nifty little sliding keyboard!) to install a writing app on it… and simply write with it! Ok, I couldn't sketch with it anymore (but, now I can!), but I couldn't care less back then! 👍 I wrote entire chapters on this phone and all the new ones I had since; I wrote waiting for my bus, in the bus, in the train, in planes, in the grocery store's queue, in my favourite lounge bars… And honestly, I love how it is so simple and efficient, and comfortable. Even though my phone battery likes it way less than I do!

4. What kind of endings do you prefer?

Happy ones! Or at the very least, open ones. That way you can continue to imagine the story, or something about it and the characters you liked. The big plot has ended but there is still a little story to be told about these characters, their goals, their motivations and actions… I love when there is more to a story then just what there is to read, watch or play, and it stimulate your imagination and creativity!

6. Do you have a favorite snack while writing?

Oh yes, I do!! It might be obvious by now how much I love food in general, and not only when I'm trying to put one word after another! 👍

My top favourite is a big bowl of salted popcorn... if it wasn't that time consuming to prepare! But Lazy Me will prefer tortilla chips, with a lot of little raw veggies!

I definitely have no sweet tooth but, sometimes, I like to munch on a few squares of tasty chocolate (or just M&Ms...) with my tea, as I write. But no matter how tasty the chocolate is, it'll never beat FRUITS, fresh and dry ones!! 💕 (Apples, oranges, watermelon, melon, grapes, ...PEACHES!!! ... almonds and nuts!!!)

9. Describing people or settings?

Both!! To me, both are so far from one another that it's almost not the same kind of writing exercice at all. The lexical field is different, the way your writing is going to focus the attention of a reader is different... In one, you write in very specific details whether the characters are indoor or outdoor, what's the weather outside, is it in space or on solid ground...? But to set a scene and allow the reader to visualise and immerse themselves in a new setting quick and easy, you have to give as much information as you can without dragging too much on this or that and slow down the pace of the whole scene/chapter/story... (why is writing so tricky?! 😭)

And in the other, you focus on everything that makes a character/person who they are, how they look, how they behave or talk, walk, stand... buuuut!!! you can pepper new descriptions, observations and details about said character as the scene goes, whether your POV character reveal something new about themselves or noticed something new about that person in front of them, and so on. In my opinion, describing people requires less instant data than for the reader to set the scene in their mind; you can just give an overall description, what meet the eye and then, dive a little more as the scene, chapter, or story progress...

And for all that, I love both types... but describing settings may be a little easier than describing people in the end! 😅

10. Show a piece from your current WIP/most recent story, up to 30 words.

I have a very confusing piece of dialogue from my episode 9 of Lost and Found that is exactly 30 words:

"On me ?!" she repeated. "What do you mean, on her !?" Din echoed, and Elara guessed how nervous he was just by the tone of his voice, even through the vocoder.

Yeah, Peli, what do you mean?!?! (Sorry for the cheap teasing. Peli is talking about placing bets here 🤫)

13. Ctrl+f: silver/gold/bronze–did anything come up in your WIP and if so, share it?

Well... I did the search and, NONE! I had one use of "golden" in my previous episode ("The Jedi Planet") but, not yet in this new one!

In the previous scene I wrote, I have this though…

A few steps further, long rags of pale and brown sheets had been stretched over and across the street, providing shade to the market stalls under, cluttering both side of the hard sand road to the cantina.

"Brown" can count as bronze-ish, right?! 😁

#ask games #writer ask game #the-blind-assassin-12 #thank you for asking all these!!! #💕 #tocm snippets

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Word count: 2300+

Warnings: mentions of puking, emotional and mental stress, mixed feelings

Honestly, this part was a pure struggle💦 Except of Rhysand's offer that I wanted in this chapter I had nothing..

Also I've got a little carried away🤷

Part X | Part XII

Two weeks had passed since Rhysand, your brother, brought you to his court. You calmed down a bit, partly accepting the situation and giving him the chance he asked you for. Maybe the powder he mixed every morning into your tea, could have something to do with it. Not even honey could beat over the bitterness that remained on the tongue.

Of course, you could refuse the tea, but you were afraid someone would force it down your throat anyway. You felt Rhysand watching you carefully until the teacup was empty and only then the tension in the room eased. And so dutifully pretending you didn't notice anything, you drank it.

Whatever was that powder for, your desire to return home hadn't changed at all. At this point you felt really homesick, trying to hide it in front of others. It was useless to show your weaknesses, your vulnerability. Nobody would help you get out of here anyway.

You were gradually introduced to Rhysand's friends and family. Some of them claimed to know you since you were a newborn, some seemed to be new additions like Feyre, your brother's mate, and her sisters. Everyone was nothing but nice and friendly to you, but you were still uncomfortable around them.

Every time Rhysand had some free time, he spent it with you, showing you the city or taking you for walk in the large garden around the house while telling you stories of past. Morrigan, your cousin, did the same. They tried really hard to make you remember something.

Even now you were sitting with Mor on terrace of some cafe in the city, river running under it, attracting your attention like a magnet.

She told you that before you had been basically best friends, always spending time together and breaking all the rules parents set. However it didn't help to change your feelings or to be more relaxed with her. It was apparent she had a certain expectations and it made you even more uneasy. Just like with Rhysand.

Today she took you out to drink an ice tea, the drink she claimed to be your absolute favourite one. Before.

After the first few sips you swore never touch it again. It was everything except of delicious or tea.

You tried to keep up with her, listening to all the memories that supposed to be yours, but it felt rather as memories of someone else, someone so different it couldn't be you. None of the things you'd been told so far, felt familiar. It just made you tired and your head threatened to explode with pain.

You were trapped in this strange city, with these strangers. You couldn't sleep, eat nor drink, hardly dragging yourself through the days. Large garden around Rhysand's house took some of the stress away, but it wasn't enough. You needed the forest, your cottage, walks in nature, fresh air. You needed even him, although it hurt to even think about him. The first few days you still hoped he would appear and take you back home, but your hope died like plucked flowers in a vase leaving only a bleeding hole in your heart.

Mor finally gave up and took you back to your brother's house. She had that strange expression that reminded you of a mask holding all her emotions back, only her eyes revealed some sort of sadness. You were sure she would go to Rhysand and tell him about your afternoon, about your lack of response or interest. She always did. You couldn't care less. You weren't here by choice, you didn't want this. None of this.

Letting a sigh of relieve out, you went up the stairs and shut the door of your room behind. You needed to be alone, another thing that was very rare to have here. There was always someone with you and even when they left, you still felt eyes hidden in the dark corners following you around. Were you becoming paranoid? Most likely yes. But the unpleasant ticklish feeling on the back of your neck was always present.

You wanted to curl up in a ball and cry your eyes out, but first you had to go to toilet. This city, this house, all of them reeked of magic so strong that you were nonstop on the edge, hardly managing to hide the nausea from them. Another weakness you didn't want them to know about. A few gulps of ice tea you forced in, left your body, but it didn't help. Real relief never came.

Panting you moved to the sink to rinse your mouth. You rather avoided the mirror knowing what you would see. Dark circles under the eyes caused by bloody nightmares that wouldn't let you sleep, sunken cheeks because you couldn't eat and anything you managed to force down, ended up in toilet as soon as you were in your room. You didn't know how long your body could keep going like this, but you knew it wouldn't be long.

You returned to your room and winced in surprise. Rhysand stood in front of the bathroom door with tortured expression, his brows furrowed, jaw tightened, fingers clenched into fists on his sides. His violet-blue eyes searched yours. He seemed to want to say something, but his lips were firmly pressed together.

Great. Now he knew. You tried to avoid his gaze and get to the armchair near the window. But he stopped you. His arms embraced you, pulling you to his chest. You just stood there, unsure what to do. Even if you tried you couldn't fight him off.

"Tell me what should I do," he whispered to your hair. There was so much pain in his voice. Funny.

As far as you knew, he sincerely cared about you. Problem was you couldn't return the sentiment. No smile or amount of shared memories could change it. You weren't the person he remembered anymore. Asking him to let you go back to your cottage was a waste of time, too. You already tried it and he refused.

After a few heartbeats Rhysand recovered, his hands stopped trembling. Instead he moved them to your cheeks, thumbs caressing them gently.

"I talked with Madja, the healer who visited you this morning," he led you to bed and sat down. You did so, too. "She said you are exhausted and need a good night sleep. She left this tonic to help you sleep soundly." He put small bottle on the nightstand. "Two drops before going to bed would do," he smirked, but his eyes stayed sad.

You looked at vial. Another medicine to control you and your feelings. Even though you knew he meant this well, it only added on your anger. You rather stayed silent, decided to never take the mixture.

He seemed to choose next words carefully. "However she couldn't find a cause for your.." His voice died out and eyes wandered back to bathroom door. So he had noticed it even before. Of course. It wasn't surprising at all. He also knew about the nightmares after all. "Until now I didn't want to pressure you. I hoped you could meet our family, get to know them again and the memories would begin to appear on it's own. But it doesn't work, does it."

You shook head. He gave you another sad smile and looking down Rhys started to play with your fingers. Silence filled the room.

"Aury-"

"Don't call me that," you snapped. You were allergic to that name. Whoever that Auriela person was, she was dead. You weren't her.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to offend you.. It's just.. habit.. kind of comfort. I didn't hope that I would ever see you again or talk to you. But I wished every day you were here with me. I wished you were alive. You and our mother." Tears filled his eyes and he blinked to get rid of them. You didn't react.

High Lord cleared his throat. "I.. Let's talk openly. About everything." He swallowed hard. "I'm trying to understand how you feel, what's going on with you, how you lived all this time.. and I'm terribly failing. Please. I want to understand. Whoever you are now, I'm accepting it. I don't want to change you. I just want my sister back. The closeness we had." He watched you with desperate expression.

You frowned, confused. No matter how many times he reminded you that he was your family, for you they were only words. It'd never occurred to you to try to see it from his point of view. Apparently you weren't the only one to suffer in this situation. Thinking that maybe he deserved to get a chance, that you should give him a chance to get closer, you nodded.

His eyes widened for a moment, then he blinked rapidly and ran fingers through his dark hair. "Okay." He cleared his throat again.

"To be honest I thought you wouldn't accept my offer," he muttered, visibly taken aback by your willingness to discuss things with him openly. "I haven't thought the things over-.. Where to start?"

"How about you tell me what's that powder you add to my drink?" You frowned at him, expecting him to deny it.

"Oh, that," he gave you a small smile, squeezing your hands. "We noticed you are still in pain. Azriel said you seem to have headache constantly. He also suffers from it, so no wonder he noticed the subtle signs. And I quite often saw you wincing while moving around," he explained, noting the disbelief on your face. Then he added quietly. "I'm really sorry for what happened when we arrived. It's all my fault."

You were speechless. It was hard to believe it, but all about the headache and the muscle pain was true. It also made you realise how much they paid you attention even if they weren't looking directly at you. "Thank you," you murmured.

Silence stretched.

Rhysand watched you, pondering. "Would you tell me why.. what causes.." his head tilted in the bathroom door's direction.

Did he have to take out that topic again? You inhaled deeply, preparing for the worst kind of conversation. You wished for Tamlin to be with you. He'd never asked these things. He was very observant and intuitive. He noticed your fear of magic and never asked you why or what caused it. Not that you could explain any of that. He silently accepted that part of you and avoided using powers around you. With him, it was so easy. Everything was easy and full of happiness. You blinked quickly to get rid of such thoughts.

"It's because of magic.." you said, taking your hands from Rhysand's and instead you wrapped them around your chest protectively. "I don't like it. It makes me feel sick. Always did. This city, this house, you all stink with magic.."

Rhysand froze on the spot, he seemingly forgot to even breathe. "I had no idea," he whispered. His scent shifted, the air in your room changed, too. The smell of power disappeared, only the subtle citrus scent remained. After weeks you could finally breathe freely and relax a bit. It felt so good that closing your eyes you smiled. Rhysand's eyes tracked that movement. "Is it better now?"

"Much better. Thank you."

"What happened? You used to have no problems with magic before, even used it yourself."

"I don't know," you answered honestly. Walls around your heart cracked a bit, letting him in. "I don't remember what or who I was before. I don't remember any of you."

This time he only nodded, probably expecting it.

He asked you to be honest, so you were. You almost regretted what you were about to tell him. "All this time it feels as if you were telling me about a life of someone else. I couldn't be more different from the person you knew."

Lowering his gaze Rhysand stood up and strolled to the window. Leaning against its frame he looked out to the garden, his back turned to you. You didn't know what he felt at that moment, but you were torn. He was still stranger to you, yet you didn't want to hurt him. After all you weren't a cruel being and maybe, just maybe, you began to feel a certain kind of affection for him that you didn't want to admit.

"So you really don't remember what happened that night," he asked, snapping you out of thoughts.

"That night?"

"The night our mother died. The night you supposedly died, too."

"I-.." Images of streams of blood staining the ground, running down your arms that you saw in your nightmares, popped out. Pressing fingers to your temple you shook your head to push them away. Rhysand watched you out of the corner of his eyes over the shoulder. "I'm not sure."

"Dear sister," he sighed, his voice suddenly cold and distanced. "Do you know what my powers are? What daemati can do?"

You'd never heard about daemati, but the feeling that you should know that, remained and was strong. It sounded like something you should be afraid of. "No, I don't."

"I can look into your pretty head, see any memory I want, change them if I wish so. I can also crush the minds, but that's not what I'm offering you here. I could try to revive your memories. I could take away the fear that some of them make you feel." He slowly turned to you, watching you with wariness. "Would you like me to try that? Do you want to remember your past life?"

You stiffened, cold shiver running down your spine, breath catching in your throat. Could he do that? And more importantly did you want him to do it? You needed time to consider his offer. It wasn't an easy decision.

"It's up to you. You have as much time as you need." And with these words he left, leaving you alone with your confused mind.

Taglist:

@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay

#english isnt my first language #acotar #acotar fanfiction #sarah j maas #tamlin acotar #tamlin x reader #tamlin #pro tamlin #tamlin fanfiction #tamlin week #rhysand fanart #rhysand acotar #rhysand

[goth-ethite]

Fave goth songs this year: 1. Crescent and the star - Sunshine Blind Gothic Rock

Honestly my favourite Sunshine Blind song objectively is probably burned at the stake now, but I'm a bit emotionally attached to this one. I spent a lot of time this year driving around alone and camping etc. to see cool landscapes and stuff + moving around between states so yeah. I really like the buzzing instrumentals and the way the singers vocals kind of match that in a way that's a bit hard to describe.

2. Telekinesis - Altar de fey Deathrock

I really like all the space imagery and stuff in this song, I read a lot of science fiction and this song just feels like a scifi short story thing. Also I really like the way the fast, discrete drumming contrasts with the guitar where all the notes blend into each other.

3. A fever dream - Mors Syphilitica Ethereal wave

This was my ethereal wave year tbh, I used to not listen to it much but it was probably my top genre this year. I love the really dramatic soaring instrumentals and vocals but the drums make it a lot more like, heavier and driving in contrast to a lot of ethereal wave I find a bit boring. Also the singer's vocals are so cool.

4. Silent Thunder - Mephisto Walz Deathrock

So according to spotify Mephisto Walz was my top artist, and though I also listened to a ton of stuff on youtube, bandcamp and mp3s that's probably right overall. I absolutely love Mephisto Walz's instrumentals and the kind of monotone sinister vocals go so well with them... they're probably my favourite of any bands I can think of.

5. Strange Weather - Dead Spells Deathrock? Their bandcamp and stuff says post punk and darkwave but the drumming and guitar sounds make me think deathrock tbh

Ok usually I like really dramatic instrumentals and stuff but I also really like the spooky more hollow sounding usually deathrock stuff but I think it's reallyyyy hard to do well without sounding boring but all this band's stuff is great. The lead singer's voice is great and I like the kind of tense tone of the lyrics. I could listen to this song on repeat for hours tbh.

6. The Future - Second Still Post Punk

Second Still is a really great band I'm so sad they broke up :(. They're also influenced by no wave so they've got some really interesting rhythms and stuff, it's more obvious in some of they're other songs on the album. The lyrics and stuff are also interesting it's very detached yet kind of upbeat which like so true...

7.Valentine - Sisters of Mercy Gothic Rock

The instrumentals and stuff make such a spooky ambience I love it. Also I think the anti war and militarism message is really relevant (Like yeah Andy's pretty obnoxious in a lot of ways but the anti militarism messages and critique of cold war unhinged nationalist mutually assured destruction stuff are so true. I keep seeing people going 'gothic rock has always been apolitical' and it's like mate. sisters of mercy is NOT subtle lmao what do you think the rain in first and last and always represents...) + the juxtaposition of really mundane imagery of everyday stuff and descriptions of like conflict really feel like this year tbh like I wake up in the morning and read the news and it's like wow. there's a lot of horrible stuff happening, a terrifying rise of far right groups and climate change and stuff. ok time to make breakfast and go running and study for my bio test I guess.

8. Dusk of Hallows Gothic rock? Post punk?

Corpus delicti has the best synth of goth bands imo. ok 100 years by the cure is extremely good too but the echoey soaring synth in corpus delicti is really good in way more songs it's so dramatic and the switching between the quieter synthy bits and the loud drumming and guitar works really well.

9. Remedios the Beauty - Strange Boutique Ethereal wave

I love the instrumentals in this, like I love screechy soary synth and guitars and stuff but this song kind of did the opposite with more clear instrumentals sounding a bit more like plucked strings I guess and it sounds really cool! Another of the songs that got me really into ethereal wave this year.

10. You bleed me - Suspiria Darkwave/Gothic rock

Over the last year Suspiria has become my go to 'it's 4 hours past time to go to sleep but I really need to finish this essay'. Very upbeat and also kind of fun in a silly vampire way. In a slightly different world where I was a more social person this would be the drag king music I would pick tbh.

#Bandcamp #Spotify #2023 #goth music #and some of my favourite non goth songs this year were probably happy - mitski dead lines - skinny puppy and dilaudid - the mountain goats

[authenticjust]

Papyrus author review

The ever-present sand promotes an entirely new vocabulary. I found it clever to introduce several new terms for sand in its various manifestations for example: scoop – sand that collects in boots, matte – sand that collects in hair. I also sensed a hint of the Dust Bowl era, with its poverty and pervasive grit. The adaptation to a world of sand brings Frank Herbert’s Arrakis to mind with a focus on civilisation rather than religion and prophecy. We are stockpiling post-apocalyptic lectures on the kind of future to which our present may lead us, so it’s refreshing to bypass the lesson for a change and focus on the setting. One of the aspects I enjoyed is that there was no attempt to explain why our previous world has been buried in sand. The world Howey has created is completely satisfying as a setting for a gripping story filled with mysteries, conspiracies and danger. The sand dunes form the landscape and the scraps of a previous civilization form the major currency. Sand is a far future tale of an earth that has been buried. However, after being commissioned by a band of mysterious rebels, a lucrative dive job may end up being his last and a secret is uncovered that can threaten all he knows. The sand is the only place he feels at home. What’s not to love? Rating: 5/5Ī dive in the sand for Palmer is not only a profitable venture, it’s also his passion. There’s plenty of action, an icy subterranean world to explore, artificial intelligence, a completely novel species to meet and the old favourites of politics, petty rivalries and deceit. I would highly recommend both of Carlson’s novels The Frozen Sky and Betrayed. I read this feeling like the Europa mission was a possibility in our future and the attempts to understand an alien discourse also felt plausible. The concepts presented seem well-researched from my inexpert perspective. I didn’t sense any awkwardness or gaffs in the prose and the atmosphere remained consistently tense and exciting throughout. The writing matched the pace of the story well. Her feelings towards Koebsch and Ben added nuance to the story without dominating it. However, romance is introduced through Vonnie in a way that added to my appreciation of her character. I’m not one for too much romance, especially if it feels “bolted on”. Her self-doubts and internal conflicts are exposed which allows us to see more than just a tough and determined heroine. As a reader we essentially inhabit Vonnie over the course of the story and everything is related from her perspective. She has become a controversial celebrity back on earth and we see her developing some political smarts whilst trying to stay true to her mission of developing a truce with the Sunfish species. Vonnie, the engineer and main character of the first novel returns in this novel as an ambassador for the Europa mission, working directly with the Sunfish. It was a thrill ride that I thoroughly enjoyed. What develops, does so very quickly leaving the onus on the reader to keep pace with several intelligent scientists and engineers as they interpret the actions of the Sunfish and attempt to avert a war. Instead the entire story fits within a matter of a day or so, and as such, is a tense, action-packed sequence. It does not attempt to build up the situation over days or weeks, nor does the crisis endure over a long period. In this novel, the plot covers a crisis point in the ongoing truce between Humankind and Sunfish. The environment in which the story takes place is rich, plausible and fascinating. The story revolves around discovery of and interactions with a species of life-form on Europa known as the Sunfish. It’s not the first time that I’ve seen this moon as a focus of first-encounter fiction. Both novels are set of Europa, a moon of Jupiter. The Frozen Sky was a terrific read, so I was quite eager to see what he did with the sequel. How do you maintain a truce with a harsh alien species with which you can barely communicate? And how much more fragile is that truce when all your decisions are made by a distant bureaucracy riddled with self-interest and political agendas? One betrayal could start an inter-species war.īetrayed is the sequel to The Frozen Sky by Jeff Carlson, an author who has had a number of novels which seem to be a mixture of self-published and traditionally published works.

#Papyrus author review

[taupewolfy]

thank fuck sable exists because if i had to deal with another open world game that scratches the exploration itch but with hard as combat i’d yell

#the mor ei think on it the more i realise sable and ring of eld achieve roughly the same feeling with their open world #and i believe it's got to do with how exploration rewards you with usefull items #as in items you will use and items that are new #not like crap items you get that are randomised and only do like 0.5%increase in [dmg value] or some shit #in regards to the combat in ring of eld good god what the fuck is going on in there #why is it so hard to do damage at the start because finding upgrade materials is so hard for that first tier #and thn why does it feel like the area you are meant to go to can kill you so fast #like what is going on #i know if im getting one-shot or an enemy is taking more than half my health - then that probably means im not meant to be there #or trying to fight it but like...........the last required story location i did felt so hard...getting ganked by magic was awful #LOOK i like these games but the combat is forever my least favourite thing in it #also hate that so many that try to repolicate them just focus on combat (and don't even do anything to make it interesting) #say someone call them 'simon says bosses' and that's pretty correct bh #because yeah you do have to react to them in a certain pattern but unlike something say like mh #it's a lot more strict