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quinzzelx · 16 days

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Shadows and Starlight

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Mor return from a long mission on the Continent. Nine Months have passed since your departure and you couldn't wait to reunite with your best friend, a best friend you'd had a crush on for centuries. Only that Azriel wasn't there when you returned home. He would only return on Starfall.

Part 02

Word count: 4.5K

Warnings: A little spice at the end there. But honestly just a little! Otherwise Fluff, Reader being part of the IC!! I have not proof-read it yet.

A/N: Well, hello there! I have never posted writing for this Fandom before, so I truly hope it is enjoyable and finds it's people. Overall, I haven't really been posting on this blog in ages and felt inspired. I would love to write a second part if this is received well. This isn't proofread yet, I will do that eventually, so I apologize for possible errors. Please let me know what you think and feel free to drop into my inbox.

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The night was cool and crisp as you and Mor made your way through the streets of Velaris, the city lights casting a warm glow over the cobblestone streets. Returning to Velaris had been a relief, the mission Rhys had sent you on should have taken no longer than six weeks, lastly spanning nine months that felt like an eternity. What should have been a rather quick trip to the Continent turned out to be far more complicated than anticipated. You were supposed to look into the whereabouts of a magical artifact while Mor should keep up her work as emissary. What you did not take into account whatsoever was the uprising conflict between two of their biggest noble houses, which complicated things. Trust was not easy to come by. Diplomats and Mediators by day and treasure hunters by night. Of course, you also had plenty of time to bask in the sunlight, smothering heat seeping into the marrow of your bones. Even with Mor by your side, there had been moments of homesickness that gnawed at your heart, a longing for the familiar comforts of home that seemed to grow with each passing day.

But now, as you made your way through the streets of Velaris, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. The city was alive with the buzz of activity, its streets bustling with life and energy. Even the stars seemed to shine and twinkle brighter than usually, welcoming you back. It was good to be home. As you stepped into the grand foyer of the House of Wind, you felt a rush of nostalgia wash over you. Albite nine months were nothing for Fae, you had missed this. The scent of fresh bread filled the air, no doubt made by Elain. A soft smile tugged at the corner of your lips at the familiarity, your shoulders relaxing slightly.

Mor wasted no time in making herself comfortable, stomping off to the sitting room and throwing herself onto the chaise with a dramatic sigh. You couldn't help but chuckle at her antics. As she settled into the plush pillows, you perched yourself on the edge of the nearby armchair, your gaze drifting to the flickering flames in the hearth. The crackling fire cast dancing shadows across the room, its warmth a comforting embrace after the long journey home. "So, what is on your mind?" Mor's voice broke through the silence, her eyes fluttering open as she regarded you with a curious expression. You let out a soft sigh, your thoughts drifting back to the tribulations of your time overseas. "It was... intense," you replied, voice tinged with a hint of weariness. "So much happened.” You groaned then. “Cauldron boil me, I really don’t want to fill out that mission report…” Mor nodded in understanding, a sympathetic smile playing on her lips. "I can imagine, me neither" she said, her tone filled with empathy. "But Rhys will not push us. He probably missed us as much as we missed him. It’s been a while after all.”

You smiled gratefully at her words, a sense of relief washing over you. "Yeah, you're right," you agreed, your spirits lifting at the thought of being back in Velaris once more. Back home. You fell into a comfortable silence then, the crackling fire the only sound echoing in the room. But beneath the surface, you felt a restlessness stirring within yourself—a longing to see him, to feel the familiar comfort of his presence. Obviously you missed the entirety of your family wholly. Definitely not thinking about one person more than the others. At least that is what you told yourself.

"I'm going to check on Az," you said suddenly, your voice breaking the silence. "I haven't seen him in a while…" Mor raised an eyebrow inquisitively, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Really now? Here I thought we saw none of them in a while." she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Missing someone, are we?" You felt a blush creeping into your cheeks at Mor's teasing tone, but you brushed it off with a playful roll of your eyes. "Don't be ridiculous," you retorted, though the fluttering in your chest betrayed your true feelings. With a playful wink, Mor waved you off, her attention already drifting back to the warmth of the fire. "Go on then," she said, her voice soft but encouraging. "I'll be here when you get back." And with that, you rose from your seat and made your way to Azriel's room, your heart fluttering with anticipation at the thought of seeing him again after so long. With a sense of anticipation bubbling in your chest, you picked up your pace subconsciously, your steps quick and eager. You had grown so close over the years, so comfortable in each other's company, that knocking on doors had become a formality you rarely bothered with anymore- and even if you usually still found yourself knocking from time to time, you just were too excited.

But as you pushed open the door to Azriel's room, your heart sank at the sight of the empty space before you. The room was quiet and still, save for the faint scent of cedar that lingered in the air—a stark reminder of the Male you had missed so much. Disappointment tugged at your heart as you surveyed the deserted room, your lips curling into a soft frown. It was Starfall in just a few days, you really thought, hoped, he’d be here when you returned. Before you could dwell on your thoughts any longer, a familiar voice broke through the silence, startling you. "So, Y/N, are you finally going to confess your undying love for my brother?" he quipped, his tone laced with amusement. You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of your lips now as you threw yourself into Cassian's awaiting arms. You had missed him, missed all of them, but the absence of Azriel weighed heavily on your heart somehow. After you pull away from your embrace, Cassian offers you a kind smile, his eyes warm with understanding.

"Hey, just so you know, Az has been on a mission for the past few days," The tall Illyrian says gently, his tone filled with reassurance. "But he should be back before Starfall." You feel a surge of relief at the news, your heart fluttering with anticipation at the thought of seeing Azriel again. You waited nine months, you could wait a few more days. "Thank you, Cass," you says sincerely, gratitude shining in your eyes. Then the tall male shifts on his foot, raising an eyebrow in mock offense, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. "Hey now, Y/N, I hope you're not just excited to see Az," he says with a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "I mean, I know I'm not as brooding and mysterious as our Shadowsinger, but a little appreciation for your favorite warrior wouldn't hurt." You roll your eyes again with a grin, shaking your head at Cassian's antics. "Oh, please, Cass. You know you're my second favorite warrior," you quip, your tone teasing as you give him a playful shove. You share a moment of laughter before Cassian's expression turns more serious, his gaze softening as he looks at you with genuine concern. "How was the mission? Everything okay?"

Nodding, your smile faltering slightly as you recall the challenges you faced overseas. "It was... intense, to say the least. But we made it back in one piece, thanks to Mor and her quick thinking."

Cassian nods in understanding, his expression reflecting his relief. "Well, I'm glad you're both safe. We'll have to celebrate your return properly, once you've had a chance to rest." Humming you find yourself relaxing into the familiar warmth of his company. You nod in agreement then. “Yeah, Rhys always has something up his sleeve for Starfall,” you say, voice tinged with anticipation. “I can only imagine what he has planned for this year.” Both of you fall into comfortable silence for a moment. Only when a yawn claws itself up your throat and past your lips does Cassian speak again. “Does Rhys know you’re back?” His gaze is gentle in the way he looks at you, it was easy to tell that the oaf missed you just as much.

Stretching your tired muscles slightly, you nod hastily. "Yeah, you should have seen his face when he came barging into the kitchen and saw us drink tea with Feyre." A soft chuckle leaves him then, and you share a knowing grin as you both recall similar situations.

Making your way down the hall, you find Mor fast asleep on the chaise lounge in the sitting room, her features relaxed in slumber. Cassian retrieves a soft blanket from the nearby cupboard and gently drapes it over Mor's sleeping form, his movements gentle and caring.

You settle into the chairs nearby, he joins you, and the two of you engage in light conversation, catching up on the latest developments with Nesta and the Valkyrie. You share stories and anecdotes, laughter punctuating the quiet of the night as you relish in each other's company. Eventually, exhaustion catches up with you, and you bid Cassian goodnight before retreating to your own chambers for some much-needed rest.

As you settle into bed, your mind can't help but wander towards Azriel. Despite the exhaustion weighing heavy on your limbs, thoughts of him linger at the forefront of your mind, like whispers in the darkness. You can't help but wonder how he's been faring on his mission, what trials and tribulations he's faced in your absence. A pang of guilt tugs at your heart as you realize that you hadn't even sent word of your return, leaving him in the dark about your whereabouts. Closing your eyes, you try to push aside the worry and uncertainty that gnaws at your thoughts, focusing instead on the memory of his warm smile and steady presence. You find solace in the thought of seeing him again, of being reunited with the friend who has always been a steady anchor in your life. With a soft sigh, you let the rhythmic sound of your breathing lull you into a state of calm, allowing yourself to drift into a restless sleep filled with dreams of starlit skies and whispered promises. And as sleep claims you, you hold onto the hope that tomorrow will bring with it the long-awaited reunion you've been yearning for.

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The next days pass in a blur, the absence of Azriel weighing heavily on your heart despite the moments of joy spent with your family. You find solace in the familiar routines of daily life, in the laughter and chatter of your loved ones gathered together in the warmth of the House of Wind.

Mornings are filled with shared meals and lively conversation, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the aroma of freshly baked pastries. On the day before Starfall you find yourself amidst the hustle and bustle of daily life in Velaris, as you join Feyre, Mor, and Nesta for a day of dress shopping. The air is filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked goods, adding to the festive atmosphere of the day.

As you weave through the throngs of people, your eyes alight on a quaint boutique you’re all too familiar with, nestled between two bustling shops. Its windows are adorned with elegant gowns in every shade of the rainbow, their silken fabrics shimmering in the sunlight.

With a shared glance and a knowing smile, you make your way inside, greeted by the tinkling of bells and the warm smile of the shopkeeper. The interior of the boutique is a veritable treasure trove of fashion, with racks of dresses in every style and design imaginable. As you browse through the racks, your eyes are drawn to a stunning gown in a shade of deep midnight blue, its bodice adorned with delicate lace and sparkling sequins. It catches the light in such a way that it seems to shimmer and dance with every movement, and you can't help but feel drawn to it.

Feyre picks up a flowing gown in a shade of pale lavender, holding it up against herself with a thoughtful expression. "What do you think?" she asks, turning to you and the others for their opinion. Mor nods approvingly, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "It's lovely, Feyre. You would look stunning in that." Nesta, ever the pragmatist, arches an eyebrow skeptically. "It's a bit too... ethereal for my taste," she remarks dryly. "But if it makes you happy, then go for it." You can't help but chuckle at Nesta's blunt honesty, knowing that she speaks from a place of genuine concern for her sister's happiness. "I think it's beautiful, Feyre," you offer, a warm smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "But ultimately, it's up to you." Feyre returns your smile gratefully, her eyes sparkling with gratitude. "Thank you, Y/N," she says softly, her voice filled with warmth. "I think I'll give it a try." As Feyre disappears into the dressing room to try on the gown, Mor turns to you with a glint in her eyes. "So, Y/N, have you found anything that catches your eye?" she asks, her tone teasing.

You shrug nonchalantly, though your heart races at the thought of the dress you had spotted earlier. "Maybe," you reply coyly, a playful smile playing at your lips. "There was one that caught my attention." Nesta raises an eyebrow curiously, her gaze sharpening with interest. "Oh? And what does it look like?" she inquires, her tone betraying her curiosity.

You hesitate for a moment, your cheeks flushing slightly as you recall the details of the dress. "It's... um, it's a deep midnight blue," you begin, your voice trailing off as you struggle to find the right words to describe it.

Mor's eyes light up with mischief as she interrupts, a knowing smirk on her lips. "Sounds like something a certain Shadowsinger would most definitely like," she quips, her voice filled with amusement. You feel your cheeks grow even warmer at Mor's teasing remark, knowing that there is some truth to her words. "Maybe," you mumble, unable to hide the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips.

Before the conversation can continue further, Feyre emerges from the dressing room, the lavender gown flowing around her in a cascade of ethereal beauty. You gasp in awe at the sight of her, your heart swelling with pride and admiration.

"Feyre, you look incredible," you exclaim, your voice filled with genuine awe. "That dress was made for you." Feyre blushes at the compliment, her smile radiant as she twirls in front of the mirror. "Thank you, Y/N" she says warmly, her eyes shining with happiness. "I think I've found my dress." As Feyre twirls in front of the mirror, her radiant smile lighting up the room, Mor and Nesta exchange knowing glances before turning their attention to you.

"Well, Y/N, it's your turn now," Mor says with a playful grin, her eyes sparkling again. "You can't just talk about that mysterious midnight blue dress and not show it to us."

Nesta nods in agreement, her expression curious. "Yes, I'm quite intrigued to see this dress that has caught your eye," she adds, a hint of amusement in her voice. With a nod of determination, you make your way to the dressing room, the anticipation building with each step.

As you slip into the dress, you can't help but marvel at how perfectly it fits, clinging to your curves in all the right places. The fabric is soft against your skin, the deep midnight blue hue shimmering in the light, casting an enchanting glow around you. The bodice of the dress is adorned with delicate lace, the intricate patterns weaving a spellbinding tapestry across your skin. The neckline plunges low, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of skin, while the back dips into a daring V, leaving just enough to the imagination. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the reactions of your companions, before stepping out of the dressing room to reveal yourself to them.

Feyre gasps in awe as she lays eyes on you, her expression filled with admiration. "Wow, Y/N, you look absolutely stunning," she exclaims, her voice filled with genuine wonder.

Mor and Nesta nod in agreement, their eyes wide with astonishment. "That dress was made for you," Mor adds. As you gaze at your reflection in the mirror, a surge of confidence courses through you. It's been so long since you've worn anything other than fighting leathers, and the sensation of silk against your skin is a welcome change. You feel sexy, beautiful, and alive in a way that you haven't in months, the weight of responsibility and duty momentarily lifted from your shoulders. For the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to revel in the simple pleasure of feeling feminine and desirable.

But amidst the rush of excitement and adrenaline, there's a nagging voice in the back of your mind, whispering of doubts and insecurities. What will Azriel think when he sees you like this? Will he be pleased, impressed, or will he merely see you as the same old friend he's always known? You bite your bottom lip nervously at the thought, a flush rising to your cheeks as you imagine his reaction. But deep down, beneath the layers of uncertainty and self-doubt, there's a spark of hope flickering within you, a glimmer of possibility that maybe, just maybe, he'll see you in a new light. That maybe the feelings you had harbored for him for the past two centuries weren’t one-sided.

With a determined shake of your head, you banish the doubts from your mind, focusing instead on the here and now. Tonight, you'll revel in the joy of the moment, surrounded by friends who love and support you unconditionally. And tomorrow, well, tomorrow is another day. "I must say, I almost forgot you had it in you to clean up so nicely."

You roll your eyes playfully at Mor's teasing remark, unable to suppress a laugh at her antics. "Oh, please, Mor," you quip, your tone laced with mock indignation. "You act as if I've been wearing armor for the past century." Feyre chuckles, her eyes dancing with mirth. "Well, you certainly seem to be enjoying yourself in that dress," she remarks with a knowing smile.

Nesta, ever the pragmatist, raises an eyebrow skeptically. "Yes, but can you actually afford it?" she asks dryly, her tone tinged with amusement. You feign offense at Nesta's remark "Of course I can afford it, Nesta," you reply with a playful smirk. "I'll just put it on Rhysand's tab."

The group erupts into laughter at your comment. With a final twirl in front of the mirror, you turn to the shopkeeper with a grin. "I'll take it," you declare confidently, a sense of satisfaction washing over you as you make your purchase. "And put it on Rhysand's tab, of course."

The shopkeeper chuckles at your remark, nodding in agreement as she wraps the dress in delicate tissue paper. "Very well, Miss Y/N" she says with a smile. "I'll be sure to send the bill to the High Lord's estate."

With your new dress in hand and your spirits lifted, you bid farewell to the boutique and make your way back into the bustling streets of Velaris.

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Azriel strolls through the lush gardens of Tarquin's estate, the relentless heat of the Summer Court bearing down on him with an intensity that he finds almost suffocating. Sweat beads on his brow, trickling down his temples as he walks, and he can't help but curse the relentless sun that beats down from above, as if intent on draining him of every last ounce of energy.

He sighs heavily as he reflects on his current predicament, his thoughts drifting to the far-off lands of his homeland where snow, cold, and winter reign supreme. The sweltering heat of the Summer Court is a stark contrast to the familiar chill of the Night Court, and Azriel can't help but wonder if it's possible that he's somehow managed to burn his wings in the sun. But such thoughts are quickly pushed aside as he reminds himself of the task at hand. Everything had gone well with his meeting with Tarquin, and now he simply longs to retire to his chambers and escape the oppressive heat for a few precious hours of rest.

As he continues on his way, Azriel can't help but think about the upcoming Starfall celebration. Tomorrow would mark the end of his short mission in the Summer Court, and he couldn't wait to return home to Velaris. The thought of spending Starfall without Y/N weighs heavily on his mind, and he can't help but feel a pang of longing in his chest at the prospect. Suddenly, a voice breaks through his thoughts, a familiar presence intruding upon his mind with the ease of a whisper on the wind. It's Rhys, reaching out to him.

"Enjoying the summer heat, brother?" Rhys's voice echoes in his mind, a hint of amusement lacing his words. "Remember, not all of us are fortunate enough to have wings to shield us from the sun's rays."

Azriel can't help but snort at Rhys's teasing, the sound reverberating silently within his own mind. "I'd take a blizzard over this heat any day," he replies, his tone dry with sarcasm. "At least in the Winter Court, I wouldn't feel like I'm about to melt into a puddle."

Rhys's laughter fills his mind. "Ah, but where's the fun in that?" he quips "Besides, think of it as a challenge. A test of endurance, if you will."

Azriel shakes his head incredulously at his brother's words, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite himself. "You would find amusement in my suffering, wouldn't you?" he retorts. But Rhys's next words carry a weight of sincerity that catches Azriel off guard. "In all seriousness, Az, you'll be home before you know it," He assures him, his voice filled with warmth and encouragement. "Starfall is just around the corner, and there are loved ones eagerly awaiting your return."

There's a cryptic hint in Rhys's words, a subtle suggestion that Azriel can't quite decipher. He furrows his brows in confusion, his mind racing as he tries to make sense of his brother's words. After all, he's only been gone for a week. Rhys's voice fades from Azriel's mind, leaving him with a sense of calm and reassurance. "Until tomorrow, brother," he murmurs silently.

Azriel retreats for the night, the weight of exhaustion heavy on his shoulders. As he settles into his chambers, a sense of relief washes over him at the thought of returning home tomorrow.

His mind wanders to how he'll spend his first day back in Velaris, imagining the familiar streets and faces that he's missed so dearly the past week. But amidst the anticipation, there's a nagging sense of longing that tugs at his heart. Clasping his scarred hands together, Azriel reaches into the pocket of his bag and pulls out a crumpled piece of parchment. It's a letter from Y/N, the only way they've been able to stay in contact while she's been away on her mission.

He doesn't know why he took the letter with him, but holding it in his hands brings a sense of serenity and comfort. Even though their last exchanged letters had been about a month ago, knowing that Y/N is safe and well brings him a measure of peace.

With a sigh, Azriel unfolds the parchment and reads over her words once more, the familiar handwriting bringing a smile to his lips. He makes a silent promise to himself to write to her as soon as he gets home. But now, as he prepares to return home for the celebration, he can't help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of Y/N missing out. He wonders what she might be doing on Starfall, if she's found a way to make the most of the day despite being apart from their shared family.

Azriel knew how she hadn’t missed a single Starfall since… The heavy feeling of subdued rage settles in the pits of his stomach at the thought of what she endured during those dark years under the Mountain. He wishes he could have been there to protect her, to shield her from the horrors of their captivity.

His thoughts drift to a darker memory then, one that haunts him even now. He remembers her broken body, her spirit shattered and her light dimmed, when she and Rhys returned after Feyre broke the curse. The sight of her lying there, broken and bruised, fills him with a sense of sorrow and rage unlike anything he's ever known. He can still feel the weight of her pain, the echoes of her suffering lingering in the recesses of his mind. In that moment, all he wanted was to take her pain away, to hold her close and mend her broken spirit. Azriel thinks of the first Starfall after they returned from under the mountain, how Y/N had opened up about her grief and trauma for the first time. He can still see the sadness in her eyes, the weight of her pain etched into every line of her face. It was a stark contrast to the joyous celebration unfolding around them, a reminder of the darkness that still lingered. From that day forward, Y/N never missed a single Starfall celebration.

As Azriel drifts off to sleep, frustration gnaws at his insides like a relentless beast. Despite his best efforts to push Y/N from his mind, she lingers there like a haunting specter, her presence weaving through his thoughts and dreams with an undeniable persistence. Rubbing his hand over his face in a futile attempt to banish the memories, Azriel can't help but feel a sense of shame at the intensity of his longing for her. He prides himself on his control, on his ability to keep his emotions in check, but she has a way of unraveling him like no one else.

And then there are the dreams - vivid and all-consuming, they play out like scenes from a forbidden fantasy, leaving Azriel feeling both exhilarated and guilty in their wake. They were friends. Just friends. Best friends, actually. And even though this urge was nothing completely unfamiliar, these thoughts had overtaken him completely as soon as she left.

Again his mind wandered. Asking himself how her lips would feel clashing against his, how she would wrap her arms around his neck, having to crane her neck for a kiss due to their height difference. What she would taste like, what sounds he could coax out of her. How those exact plush lips would feel wrapped around his cock.- A growl leaves him through clenched teeth. His eyebrows pinched as he squeezes his eyes shut, palming himself through his briefs. Confusion etched on his beautiful face then, because he just could not understand. She was his best friend, so why could he not stop thinking about her like this? Thus, so very determined, he decided that this had to change, while simultaneously fisting his heavy cock in one of his hands. "Fuck"

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I hope you enjoyed this little piece of my imagination. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated! Please let me know if you'd like a part 2 :)

#acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel smut #azriel fluff #fem reader #x reader #imagine #bat boys

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madwomansapologist · 12 days

Note

Hello!!! I was wondering if you could write headcannons of the BG3 companions and a dragon bloodline sorcerer tav? Especially their reactions to their more dragon like tendencies like hoarding things or their wings when they level up (draconic sorcerers get wings at lvl 14 table top and 11 in bg3 ) that would be great ❤️

bg3 companions with a draconic sorcerer!tav

Navigation | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: How would they react to their leader as a draconic sorcerer?

warnings: austim be danmed my girl can study about dragons (lae'zel).

note: that made me want to play as a draconic in the future. thanks for your request, i hope you like it!

Lae'zel

You got her attention immediately. All other races are as alien to a githyanki as themselfs are for those across Faêrun, but she knew a lot about draconics still. A interest of hers that she wasn't able of shutting down, don't matter how efficient and practical she achieved to be.

She always had a soft spot for dragons. A gith can't waste its time dreaming, but who can control it? She wanted so bad to be a dragon rider. When she learned there were races of people who descended from dragons, it was only natural she would want to learn about them.

Upon meeting you, part of her brain was just trying to analize. To learn from what type of dragon you descended. Her interest on you was purely academic.

She wondered if you had noticed how possessive you are. Lae'zel knows you're one of the most selfless people she ever met, the amount of times you lose something so someone could be safe... and still, you are so possessive.

You would kill Cazador with your bare hands and bring Astarion his head, but would never let him use one of your necklaces. Once she heard you hissing because he touched your things.

Exploring Baldur's Gate, everyone got stronger. When your wings evolved, Lae'zel seemed allured by them. So intricate and strong. Beautiful. A sign of your effort and talent. You deserved them.

"Just another proof of your strenght, zhak vo'n'ash duj. Our enemies will tremble before you. I already do."

Shadowheart

Something about you felt... familiar. Like she already knew you. Maybe she did. Or perhaps it was someone familiar. Maybe it was just the highs from being saved from a nautiloid. Still, Shadowheart couldn't help but to take a liking to you.

She never had a draconid friend, not that she remember at least, so it took her a bit to get used to the differences. It's impossible not to bring attention upon your group with your height and wide body. The teeth were certainly something she was highly aware.

Shadowheart thought it was enduring how you would always ended with the party's gold on your pockets. You say you will deal with the finances, and you really do that and do it well, but she knows mostly it's because you need to have it near you.

When your wings were strong enough, she would always find an excuse to hug you. It was so warm to feel your wings around her body. Shadowheart feels so save between your arms. So at peace.

"Before you I thought I knew what true embrace felt like. I was wrong. Thank you, my sweetest lover. For opening my eyes."

Astarion

Your size was intimidating. You could be an awful obstacle for his safety, but gladly you were kinder than Astarion could expect. You were way more than Astarion could ever expect.

After a while, it was interesting to learn more about you. So wide, and still so delicate. So scary, and yet so good. So moral, and yet so capable of violence.

For a draconic, it was a bit cliche that your go-to spells were fire ones. And he made sure to tell you that.

Once Astarion saw your wings, for some reason Astarion felt... proud. It just felt right for you to be rewarded after everything you did to them. To him. And it also made you look even more alluring.

"Another fireball, darling? Really? In this tiny room? Alright. Whatever feels right to you."

Gale

It was incrible to have another magic bender in the party! There are a few differences in styles and in the path you both want to go down, but at the end you both share the same goal.

Either as a student or as a natural vessel, the weave conects you both. It feels lovely to have someone who can see how the entire world moves because of it. To have someone to go for when doubts about new spells pop up, or that understands that he can't spend a long time in the battle field. Someone that just understands.

Gale was so curious about the limits of your body. Merely academic curiosity! He meet a few draconics before, but never he spend such a long time beside one.

It was mesmerizing to see you sleep in a nest. Not really one, but basically a nest. Everything looks so comfortable. So you. The best blankets, your favorite jewels, some gold.

Gale Dekarios is a student before all. And you quickly became his favorite subject.

"Don't they make you trip, my love? Ah, I see, your body was made for those, dare I say, beautiful pair of wings. If you ever feel the need to rest while you get used to them, just say the word."

Wyll

You weren't the first draconic Wyll befriended. Your race may be not so common in some parts of Faêrun, but he is not one to be surprised by your needs and habilities. Wyll is always ready to help you, don't matter what.

You need more space at camp, every armor needs to be wide enough to fit your wings, swords can't be tiny so your handle turns weak. Wyll is just waiting for you to need him so he may act.

The hoarding turned into a problem so quickly. Every damn thing "could be necessary". Forks? Rotten watermelons? Half-eaten apples??? And don't you try to say those are culture differences. Those are problems.

Once someone aimed at your wings during a fight. You barely were able to see the energy rays before their body burned to ashes.

"The Blade stands at your side, dear one. My duty is with your safety."

Karlach

Our girl on fire saw more dangerous things than a dragon's bloodline. Still, it was good to see a good fighter. She has the muscles, and you the brains. A perfect duo, one could say.

She thought was sweet your tendencies. How you wrap your tail around your companions that are being threatened. Or how the glow of jewels can make you break your neck just for a glance.

Karlach loves the fact you are also build bigher, just like her. It's good to not have to look down at someone, or to not break her back in a attempt to be at the same high as you.

She got so scared when your wings evolved. She didn't knew it was something that could happen to draconics that turned really strong. For a whole minute, she thought you went through some sort of body horror kinda of shit. She knows a lot about it, so it was really good to hear your explanation.

"Fucking gods, soldier! You almost lost me there. Thought my heart would fucking explode."

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

GENERAL TAGLIST: @lovelyy-moonlight

BALDUR’S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

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brodieland · 2 months

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.˚ 𓈒 ࣪.𝝑𝝔 Secret Artist ?? ´ˎ˗

Leo Valdez x Fem!Apollo!Reader Synopsis: Leo found the secrets drawings you made of him, leading into some confessions !! Warning(s): some cursing and a little blood, nun to crazy Word Count: 2202

You loved art. Painting, drawing, pottery, you name it. You loved creating things, making things that last. That's how you first began to get close to your now best friend, Leo Valdez.

During a sword lesson, you couldn't have been more bored. When it came to fighting you were already remarkable with a bow and arrow, though given your Apollo lineage, you supposed that was a given for you. But moving on. You had found yourself drawing on your hand with a pen you always kept in your pocket (sucks it didn't turn into a sword😒), and when you looked to your side, you saw the Hephaestus boy, whose name you had previously learned was Leo, was pulling random things from his tool belt and started fidgeting with them. What truly confused you about this, the belt was empty.

"Where are those coming from?" You asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

"What-" Leo turned to you, looking wide-eyed for a split second before answering. "Oh um, it's a magic tool belt I found. I can ask for whatever little pieces and it gives them to me."

"Wow, really? Can you ask for a pen, mine ran out mid drawing." You pouted while holding your arm out to Leo, showing the dragon you were drawing around your arm, and showing how the pen ran out before you got to the top.

"Wow, that's so cool, you just did that right now?" Leo grabbed your arm to get a better look.

"Yeah, I was using Ladon as my inspiration." You smiled as you pointed to the tree that used to be Thalia, that is now wrapped with the golding fleece being protected by said dragon.

"I didn't know that dragon had a name. Does he breathe fire like my Festus?"

"Wait you were the one who repaired Beckendorf's dragon that went rouge? WAIT! You're the fire proof kid?" You gushed, you had heard about the fire proof kid, but you didn't know who it was.

"Oh, you've heard?" Leo grinned. "I hope it was all good things you've heard, like how I'm really cool and funny and ripped."

"Oh... yeah!" You said in a joking tone. "But seriously, I heard some kid went out to find the dragon so I got all the burn stuff ready. Then I got bored and took a nap and slept through, well you, flying into camp on your dragon."

"Trust me its a sight you wish you wish you could've seen. God I looked so awesooommeee." Leo started flexing his 'muscles.' You just started laughing before suddenly you interrupted by Luke, the one leading the sword lesson, clearly his throat to get he both of your attentions.

"Well, if you guys are finished we can continue?" You both quickly nodded. You two were already trying not to laugh, so you refused to look at each other with the fear of bursting out in laughter.

After that lesson, you and Leo continued to hang out. Despite both agreeing that sometime artificial life is easier to be around than human life, you found it easy to spend time together. You guys also made a good team, you made him drawings that he turned into 3D machines, and you patched him up from time to time when he gets his hands all cut up.

After a few months of the two you hanging out everyday, you slowly started developing a little crush towards the fire boy. You loved the way when he got excited he started to set himself on fire, you loved his stupid jokes, you loved his stupid grin, and honestly the list went on. When there were times you weren't hanging out with him, you were drawing. Not just drawing anything, but drawing pictures of Leo, or ones of you and Leo together. Of course, since you never wanted to weird Leo out, you never told him of the drawings, and hid them in a shoebox under your bed.

One day, you were hanging out with your half-brother Lee Fletcher. You both were at the archery range, shooting shot after shot, always on target. Bless Apollo genes for this.

"Why couldn't you just tell him that you like him?" Lee said while aiming toward his target.

"Because, it'll make stuff awkward between us."

"There's no way you don't think he likes you back." Lee side-eyed you.

"We're just friends and we're gonna stay like that. He's just girl-crazy, that's what your seeing, not him genuinely liking me."

"Gods, I'll never understand how you live in such an ignorantly bliss bubble." Did that even make sense?

"Now what if I used you as my next target?" You chuckled as you aimed toward Lee.

"Oh of course, now what if got an apple to place on my head?" Lee said sarcastically as he used his hands to make a circle shape above his head, making you both laugh harder. Suddenly, in your peripheral vision, you saw another one of your brothers running toward you with a slightly worried look on his face.

"Hey Austin what's wrong?" You asked him as your laughter died down.

"You and your healing abilities needed back at the infirmary. It's Leo." Austin stated causing your eyes to go wide.

"What? Is he okay?" You asked quickly.

"Well, he's not dying, but he still needs some of your healing." And with that you were off making your way back to the infirmary. When you finally got there, you quickly swung the door open and saw Leo and blood dripping from his hand, more than what he usually comes in with.

"Oh hey there Y/N" Leo said as he threw a playful wink, not really working because his face showed he was clearly in pain.

"Leo, how does this even happen." You scolding as you walked toward him grabbing his hand in yours. You couldn't even bother getting flustered while looking at his hand.

"Oh I-um" Leo looked around for a second, he looked like his face was getting hot (he was always hot but this time in a different way). You raised your eyebrow at him before he finally spoke up. "I just fell into a bunch of screws, their sharper than you think."

"You're such a klutz you know that." You laughed at the boy, who was suddenly more quiet than usual. "Hey, you good there?"

"Huh, oh yeah. Perfect and dandy."

"Uh, okay. Anyways I can't give you nectar and ambrosia for this, but it shouldn't take too long to heal." You said as you smiled and out your hands on your hips.

"Thanks to you and your magic hands."

"My magic hands?"

"Yeah your- never mind." You started laughing while Leo was rolling was rolling his eyes saying that it wasn't even that funny. It was pretty funny.

"Anyways, wanna hang out at my cabin later, I got the delivery guys to bring me back some gummy bears and jolly ranchers." You asked.

"Um, obviously? Who do you think I am?" You just chuckled as you both started walking toward the Apollo cabin. "How do you convince the saytrs to pick stuff up for you when they head out? I've tried so many times and they just tell me no every time."

"You're not as charming and amazing and gorgeous and humble as I am." You joked as you flipped your hair.

"Well... humble might be a little stretch but I'll let you have it."

"Are you just using me for my free candy?" You gasped.

"Ooohhhh I would neverrrrrrr." Leo laughed you opened the doors to your cabin. Leo took the chance to run and jump on your bed like he does every time he comes over. Except this time, Leo jumped a little to far and fell from the side of your bed landing on the floor.

"Leo how do you even manage, your supposed to be taking it easy you know."

"I'm for the workshop not the battle field" he joked as he laid on the ground.

"Excuses is all I'm hearing from here. Anyways I stuffed the candy in Lee's stuff so gimme a sec." You walked toward Lee's nightstand to retrieve your stash.

As you did so you had your back turned away from Leo, not realizing he was still on the floor. What you also didn't know, was that he had in fact, noticed the shoe box that resided under your bed. And with out saying anything he decided to take a peak at what's inside. To say it shocked him was putting it mildly. He stared at them in awe, not realizing you turned around till he heard you drop the bags of candy you were holding.

"Leo.." You whispered out. Your heart literally, just shot outta your ass. These were the last drawings you never wanted him to see. And there were enough to make you look like a total stalker.

"Y/N.. how come you hid these from me. I look so cool. But I do think you made my muscles a little underwhelming though." Leo commented. You continued to stand there with your mouth slightly agape, not knowing what to say and he continued to look through them. You desperately wanted to rip from his hands but you were frozen with embarrassment. Finally you snapped out of your haze.

"Leo.. can you like, put those away.." You said as you sat down in from of him.

"What why, these are so cool." Why is he so obliviousssss??

"Because you weren't supposed to see those." Will he get the hint this time?

"Wh-" He stopped himself. It clicked in Leo's head. It was quiet for a second. You wanted to crawl in a hole and die before he finally spoke up.

"Y/N, do you want to know how I actually messed up my hand?" You nodded and Leo continued. "Well, I was working on random stuff with Charles and Nyssa, when they kept bringing up this one girl. They kept telling me to just man up and ask her out, but I was sure she didn't like me. I got so bothered by them and slammed my hands as hard as I could on my workbench to make a point, but of course it was covered in the screws and they all went through my hand. And well, you know the rest." You sat there in silence. "The girl is you by the way, just in case you didn't get it.

You stared at him in disbelief, to think the both of you were having the same kind of conversations on different ends of the camps made you laugh. The fact he actually liked you back was endearing of course but still, the drawings he found were kind of embarrassing.

"Wow, sounds like you have anger issues really, might wanna get that checked out." You joked. Leo just rolled his eyes.

"Haha, can I kiss you now?" You jumped forward and kissed him. You both continued to make out until Lee and Austin can back into the cabin, standing over the two of you. Lee cleared his throat and got the both of your attentions.

"Do you mind?" Leo asked.

"Yeah, we do actually. Get a room that isn't about to get filled with a bunch of little Apollo campers getting ready for dinner." Austin said. You and Leo groaned as you both stared getting up.

"Yeah take your candy and stalker drawings with you please." Lee joked and you wanted to take the drawings and give him a paper cut in between his index finger and his thumb. Yeah, that'll show him. You didn't though, you choose peace as you put the drawings back and left with Leo and the candy.

"Y/N, can you follow me I want to show you something." Before you even had the chance to respond Leo grabbed your wrist and dragged you away.

"Are you kidnapping me?"

"Of course."

And finally you both made it to Bunker 9. You've actually never been in here before. Most people haven't even heard of it, it's normally kept between Hephaestus campers and a few others. It was empty at the moment with everyone heading out for dinner.

"Leo, what are we doing here?" You saw Leo looking through drawers and cabinets.

"Well, I was making something yesterday and I left it here before the whole hand thing happened. It's somewhere- AH! Here it is." Leo ran up to you and handed you his little creation. "It's just something I did in my free time, you know." It was a mini bouquet of metal flowers. You always got sad when the flowers you had always ended up dying and at some point you mentioned it to Leo.

"Aw Leo, these are so cute." They were in he shape of sunflowers, your favorite flowers. You don't even remember telling him these were your favorites

"Glad you like them, it sucked seeing you upset over dead flowers. So I made ones that would last." Leo grinned, you just walked up to him and kissed him once more.

"This is really sweet, but we should probably rush to dinner."

"Yeah probably."

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson pjo #percy pjo #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez x you #leo valdez fluff #leo valdez #leo valdez pjo

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lou-struck · 11 months

Text

Another Layer

Lucifer x Reader x Mammon

~ After an incident during magic practice, you no longer have a jacker to wear on your chilly walk home.

Genere: Fluff

Wc: 1.4k

Warnings: Brotherly competition, Mc is shorter than the brothers, mention of Mc overworking themselves and not taking care of themselves. Reader lights themselves on fire harmlessly.

It finally happened; you accidentally lit yourself on fire.

The enchanted flames from your fireball spell singe the fabric of your jacket, and you hastily throw it to the ground with a shriek. Your foot stomps frantically on the light pink flames in an attempt to salvage the garment, but you are unsuccessful and can only watch as the enchanted fire eats through the fabric, leaving nothing but a pile of ash in its place.

"Damn," you mutter, biting the inside of your cheek. You really liked that jacket.

With another huff, you grab your bag and prepare to leave. Next time you decide to practice your magic on a day off, you'll remember to wear the magic-proof garments Solomon told you about.

Sensing your presence, the double doors part for you magically. The heated air of the building disappears as soon as you step across the threshold. You shiver; the air is so much colder than you remembered it being on your walk over.

The thin short-sleeved shirt you're wearing does little to keep your body warm as hundreds of little goosebumps prickle your skin, and you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to keep the little heat your body is letting out.

The cold wind seems to make your walk to the House Of Lamination much longer than usual as it whistles a melancholy tune that bounces off the iron fence posts along the walkway. The dark clouds overhead foreshadow a heavy bout of rain coming your way.

You quicken your pace, hoping to soon be back home and in the arms of one of your much warmer demons.

Maybe you can take a nap with Belphie and watch the storm through the roof of the observatory?

Maybe Asmo will let you warm up in his bathtub?

Maybe Satan could read to you by the fireplace?

Whatever it is you end up doing, you know that you will be warm and relaxed, unlike now.

The wind blowing in your ear and the drumming of your heartbeat makes it close to impossible to hear anything else as you turn a corner blindly and bump directly into someone's back.

"Oi, what gives?" a familiar voice says. Taking a step back, you realize that it was Mammon you had just bumped into. Just beyond him, you notice that Lucifer is with him as well, his arms crossed over his chest. "Huh, Mc? What are ya doin out here?" The Avatar of Greed asks, trying to hide the elation on his features at your presence.

"I'm sorry, Mammon, I didn't mean to bump into you," you say quickly. "I was just leaving the private casting room at RAD and wanted to get home before the rain came."

"Mc," Lucifer addresses, looking you over. His discerning gaze lingers on your exposed arms and shivering figure before narrowing his crimson eyes. "Where is your jacket? You had it on when you left earlier today."

Shit, of course, he would notice that kind of thing.

"I kinda set it on fire," you admit with an innocently guilty smile on your face.

"Just the jacket?" he presses, raising a brow.

"I kinda, maybe, sorta was wearing the jacket when it was set on fire," you admit directing your gaze to the all too interesting pavement. The random cracks and stones are much less humbling than this conversation with Lucifer is.

"So you set yourself on fire."

"Yes…accidentally."

Lucifer's hands reach up to rub his temples in exasperation as Mammon gasps.

"What do you mean you set yourself on fire?" he exclaims, reaching out to grab you by the shoulders. His hands are warm on your cold skin, and his face is filled with worry. "What the? Your skin is so cold."

"I was t-trying to get home. "You say softly, doing your best to fight the shivers.

"Silly human, ur gonna get sick out here." Mammon sighs, pulling his leather jacket down his shoulders and placing it over his own. Although leather may not be the best material for generating heat, already, you feel as if you are being held tightly.

Breathing in, you smell just a bit of Mammon's cologne. The scent comforts you, warming you up in a different way as you look up at the handsome demon whose body is physically shielding yours from the wind. "I feel much better now, thank you, Mammon."

His cheeks turn pink at the sight of you wearing his clothes, and he turns away, "It's nothin'; the Great Mammon just doesn't want to hear ya sneezing tonight, that's all."

"I see," you nod, not fooled at all by the tsundere's words. "So that's all?"

"Ya might want to stay close though, so ya don't get too cold."

Just as he is about to take your hand, Lucifer clears his throat.

Mammon, do you really think that will warm them up sufficiently?" The Avatar of Pride says, taking a step between the two of you. He looks down at you affectionately as he speaks. "Mc, you should really wear my cape instead; you would be much warmer.

"Oi, they're not taking it off," Mammon says protectively, zipping up his jacket all the way up to your throat childishly as a way of proving his point.

"Hmmm, then I suppose I'll just have to give them another layer to keep them warm," he replies, taking it off his shoulders and draping it over you like a blanket. The weight warms you even more as you feel the soft fur against your face.

"How is that, Love?" he says, leaning in to secure it in place. "Is this other layer warming you up?"

"Mmhmm, I feel much better," you sigh, giving him a content smile.

"You really shouldn't be so reckless," he breathes into your ear; his breath is warm but sends a different kind of shiver down your spine. "What would I do if you were to catch a cold out here?"

"I'm sorry?" you offer, unconsciously leaning into his warmer frame. He chuckles warmly and allows you to lean on him.

"Sounds about right," Mammon says, wrapping an arm around your other side. "Ya really gotta take better care of yourself, or at least let me take care of ya. I'm your first, after all."

You giggle as the three of you go along, not noticing the subtle way both brothers are trying to steer you closer to their side of the walkway.

"Oh," Lucifer says, placing a hand on your shoulder. "It seems the cape is a bit too long for you; I wouldn't want you to fall. Allow me to take you back."

Looking down, you see that he is right; the dark fabric of his cape is dragging behind you. "Are you sure?" you ask. "We are almost back at the house; I can walk the rest of the way."

"Don't be silly; the rain is about to come down, so it's better if I carry you," he says with the persuasion expected of a demon such as himself. You find yourself nodding, and he scoops you into his arms effortlessly.

"I wanted to take them," Mammon whines, reaching a hand out to you with puppy dog eyes.

"You didn't ask Mammon," Lucifer smirks at his younger brother before looking at you with a loving expression. "Is this comfortable?"

"Very," you nod, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of the two demons' clothing enveloping you.

Lucifer is too proud to ever admit it, but getting to take care of you like this is one of his guiltiest pleasures. Especially when you are draped in his clothing and secure in his arms.

You work too hard, and they all know it.

"Not fair," Mammon pouts, reaching out to hold your hand in hopes of getting some kind of physical contact with you.

You smile and give his hand a squeeze. "Just you wait, Mc; when we get back, I'll make ya the best cup of tea you've ever had, and then we can go and watch a movie under all those blankets you like."

"That sounds good." you say, "We could all watch something together by the fireplace; I can even show you guys the spell I was working on."

Lucifer and Mammon lock eyes worriedly, "Uhhh, maybe not." the white-haired demon says.

"Perhaps you should rest for now." Lucifer offers. "You can go and get changed, and I'll take care of the fire."

#obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me #mammon x reader x lucifer #obey me x mc #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #lucifer x mc #mammon x mc #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #lucifer fluff #x reader

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vecnuthy · 4 months

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new

Late entry for @steddiemicrofic December prompt: pine, and for @steddieholidaydrabbles December 31 prompt: New Year's Eve/Resolution | wc: 508 | G | pre-steddie |

Eddie looked around him and took a deep breath.

Another year had come and gone, and he'd made it.

There in the woods, scattered around a fire among the people that mattered the most to Eddie, it really hit him. All at once. That warmth in his chest, the sting behind his eyes, the pull of the corners of his mouth. He was relieved - happy, he thought, gripping his beer can too tightly. The pop made him jump, which made Jeff jump and yelp beside him.

"Scared the shit out of me, man!"

Eddie laughed.

Jeff nodded toward the cabin's porch where Eddie saw Robin and Steve making sloppy light designs with sparklers, wiping tears from their eyes because they were laughing so hard.

"I never would've thought that he was such a...." Jeff stopped, getting caught on the right word.

"Lame dork with a heart of gold?" Eddie supplied.

Jeff's eyebrows shot up. "Yeah, sure. Robin had it right: he's a dingus. He just genuinely doesn't care, does he?"

Eddie shook his head, eyes glued to the Steve and Robin goofing around. He caught Steve's eye and they smiled at each other.

"You know," Jeff's voice softer. "I know somebody else who doesn't care," he said with a nudge.

Eddie's smile lingered a little longer, then faded as he cast his eyes down and played with the tab on his can. "I care."

"I know," Jeff conceded, understanding, then grinned to himself when he saw Steve look over at Eddie again. Robin disappeared inside the cabin. "New year, new possibilities. You should get a sparkler. You're starting to give this tree over here a run for its money."

Eddie snapped his head up, confused. "What?"

"Pine. It's a pine tree, and you're pining. You know, identify theft is not a jo-"

"Jesus Christ, stop," Eddie shoved him with a laugh. "Fine."

Nineteen steps brought him to the porch, under the glow of the strung Christmas lights and a grinning Steve, who said. "Hi."

"Hi," Eddie breathed out.

The sparklers had made the air smokey, filling it with color from the shining Christmas lights. Red, yellow, green, and blue bloomed and swirled in the smoke, bathing Steve in color and light, and Eddie lost every train of thought he'd ever had.

"Can I use your light?" Steve asked after a few moments, his face kind.

"Yeah," Eddie said after a beat, patting his pockets, then reached up behind Steve's ear, conjuring up the lighter.

Steve's eyes went wide, and he barked a laugh. "Did you just do a magic trick?"

Eddie blushed hard. "No," he lied. Why would he do that? "Why would I do that?"

Steve laughed, bright and colorful in a way that had nothing to do with the lights. "I'm not complaining. I already thought you were magic, but...." Steve shrugged with a smile that Eddie couldn't help but mirror, Christmas lights dancing in their eyes. "...proof."

For Eddie, 1987 started within a cloud of color-soaked smoke, with a boy that would become his. Soon.

#steddiemicroficdecember #steddieholidaydrabbles #steddie #steddie microfic #steddie fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfiction

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mychemicalrachel · 1 year

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Full disclosure, I have not seen the Teen Wolf movie and no I do not plan on it. I have caught a few things through the magic of tumblr and I had some thoughts. So if everything I saw is accurate; Derek has a kid Eli (basically a Stiles replacement since Dylan wasn’t in the movie. Also, nobody knows who his mother is?) and Derek dies, and he leaves his kid to Scott and Allison. Am I right so far? I’ve seen a few posts entertaining the idea of Stiles being Eli’s other dad, fix-its that have him resurrecting/saving Derek in some capacity. And so it got me thinking of my own version of how I would fix this dumpster fire and like,

What if Stiles was not Eli’s dad?

No no no, hear me out, okay?

Derek had Eli with some one night stand or whatever, it’s not important. She’s not in the picture but neither is Stiles. Stiles is just the one that got away, he’s the guy Derek has been pining over for the past fifteen years, and nothing more. Stiles finally got away from the supernatural shitshow and Derek is not going to be the one to drag him back into it just because he has feelings for him.

But Stiles is still the closest thing Derek has ever had to family and it makes sense for Derek to entrust his family with Stiles’ family. So what if he left Eli in the care of John? (hIS NAME IS JOHN, FIGHT ME ON THIS.) And John, he kind of adores the kid, right? Of course when Derek dies (because he does) John takes Eli in just as he promised he would.

But John is getting older. Eli is a handful because he is just like Stiles. John has to tell Stiles eventually what happened and he really could use some help trying to wrangle a grieving teenager, so he calls Stiles.

Stiles is FURIOUS when he finds out what happened. He hasn’t been in contact with Scott for years because he realized what a piece of shit Scott was, but the fact that Scott didn’t even call when everything was happening makes him angry. The fact that they let Derek die?? More than angry. Angry enough to kill somebody. But when he meets Eli, all that anger disappears. Eli, who is this weird mix of Derek and Stiles, who is mourning the loss of his only parent, his only family. He knows what it’s like to lose a parent, but even after his mom died, he always had his dad. Eli doesn’t have that so Stiles makes it his responsibility to become that figure for him. Not his dad because nobody could replace Derek, but a guardian.

He moves back to town, he bonds with Eli, and in his spare time he maybe starts to explore the possibilities of necromancy. Death in a place like Beacon Hills has never been permanent– Peter and now Allison are proof of that. He doesn’t tell anybody because he doesn’t actually plan on bringing Derek back, it’s just a thought that keeps him from falling apart entirely. During this time, he realizes not only his feelings for Derek, but Derek’s feelings for him. He wishes he could have just a few minutes with Derek, wishes he could go back in time and redo everything. Maybe he would have stayed in Beacon Hills, or he would have asked Derek to leave with him. And time travel, yeah that’s a possibility, too, but time is a fickle bitch and Stiles isn’t willing to gamble with it. What if he messes something up and erases Eli from existence?

In the end, bringing Derek back is kind of an accident.

Years have passed and Eli is healing, Stiles is healing– they even manage to fix the jeep together because symbolism. Stiles is going through some old journals or something of Deaton’s and he finds something that looks kind of promising (something about true love being the one thing more powerful than death or something equally as cheesy) and he’s reading it out loud and it just happens. No fanfare, no sparks, almost like it’s not magic at all. One second, Stiles is alone, and the next, Derek is there– older than the last time Stiles saw him, just as beautiful. There’s some panic because what the fuck, the last thing Derek remembers is the fire and being so sure he was going to die and thinking if only I could see Stiles one more time and now he’s here, standing in front of Stiles– also older than the last time Derek saw him, and just as beautiful. But after the panic, there’s some kissing and some crying and some long awaited love confessions, and by the time they go home, Stiles still isn’t sure exactly what happened, what he did, what the consequences might be, but he’s got his arm around Derek’s waist and the burn of Derek’s stubble on his lips and Derek is alive so nothing else fucking matters.

#teen wolf movie #teen wolf movie spoilers #teen wolf #sterek #i haven't written sterek in years #and yet here i am #derek hale #stiles stilinski #anti scott mccall #because i never liked him anyway #fix it #because i hear this movie needs a lot of fixing #eli hale #eli stilinski hale

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fever-fluff · 5 months

Text

Part I - Quick as a Fox

word count: 2.3k (not proof read)

will contain spoilers for the ACOTAR series

“What could Rhysand possibly need that would be out here, Shadowsinger.” Lucien’s voice was thick with disdain, swatting another branch from the thick brush they walked through.

“Scared of getting you breeches a little dirty, Lucien? Doesn’t seem like you do well in the dirt.” Azriel’s sneer was no better, and the innuendo about Elain did not fly past Lucien so easily.

“Believe me, its not the first time I’ve gotten it on my knees, maybe you’d like to hear all about my time in the garden last week-” Lucien was quick to block the fist aiming for his gut, but it threw him off balance all the same, soft ground beneath him not much to grip.

Azriel came at him again, “Shut your filthy mouth, Vanserra.” Lucien just laughed at the male’s brazen behaviour towards the female he’d tried to snatch for himself. It had been months now since the last solstice, and the catastrophe of the necklace had caused a rift between Azriel and Elain that Lucien had, without regret, used to his advantage. Elain was mated to him, and he’d agreed to Rhys’ wish of not inciting a blood rite over the shadowsingers obvious display of disrespect.

He had not pushed Elain in the slightest with his affections, but he had made it clear they were there. And after finding a bitterness under all that façade of sweet, Lucien had coaxed it out. It turned out she had more in common with Nesta than they’d all first thought, and he relished in the fire when she let it out.

The two tumbled as they fought, both to engrossed in getting another blow to the others face when they stumbled down a concealed ridge. They had separated just as the reached the bottom, and went to got at it again until Lucien noticed what they’d fallen into.

“Mother above”

Azriel looked to what was behind him, sucking in a breath and the grove of statues they’d landed in. “What the damned is this place?” walking around, the two noticed now that they were not statues, but petrified bodies of fae of all kinds. Lucien stopped in front of a certain one, loosing a shudder as he recognised the face in front of him. “I can’t be…”

Azriel joined his side, analysing the kneeling figure in from of him. The arms were twisted as if two fae had hold of her while the magic took effect. A sneer crossed her features, and he felt a shiver as he though of what it might have looked like in flesh. There was pure hatred in those eyes, and the snarl of her lips was something that he’d only seen on the most animalistic of his kind. Though she looked to be high fae, with pointed sharp ears, her demeanour was something he’d place in a wild beast.

“We need to free her.” “Are you mad?!” Lucien had already turned and began sifting through his sack, pulling viles as he went. “Lucien, who the Hel is she?!” he started mixing different liquids together, the mixture turning all different shades of different colours too quick for Azriel to catch.

“Someone who may be able to help.” “Hah…?”

Before Azriel could stop him, Lucien poured the new potion on to the top of the statue, and waited as it took effect. It was a simple reversal but depending on the depth of the initial fae's magic when she had been petrified, the time to undo the curse was debatable.

So they sat a respectable distance apart, and watched the statue like hawks. The sun had started to dip in the sky by the time they noticed the stone slowly shift, and a pale complexion took its place. Her chest began to slowly rise and fall, and a flutter of her eyelids became stronger as the hours passed on.

The moon had taken its place in the sky, and both males had drifted off into the land of the unconscious until they heard harsh coughing. The statue, now skin, moved achingly while the faes body returned to normal. Lucien cautiously moved towards her with a canister of water, “Fox, its alright, we’re not here to harm you...” The slap of the canister from Lucien’s hand was quick and strong, too strong for someone who had atrophied for mother only knows how long now. What was even more miraculous was the speed she moved towards the brush to their right, finding a small stream to gulp out of heavily. Azriel made to move on her, but Lucien held his hand up as a signal to wait, “don’t spook her, unless you don’t like having limbs anymore.”

Once she’d had her fill, she turned her eyes to the two of them, and he could have sworn they flickered between a serpent’s slits to the fae oval. As she spoke, her voice cracked from years of disuse, but he could hear the power she could wield it with, “I suggest you both start talking before you have no more tongues to do so.”

Azriel’s responding growl was low, truth-teller now grasped in his hand as he etched closer to her, “you shouldn’t make threats you can’t follow through on, bitch. In your state, this is going to go only one way. With your throat at my bla-”

Too fast. Way too fast for someone only after waking from such a long prison did the woman lunge for Azriel, snapping at his wrist with both hands and knocking the knife from his hand. He didn’t have time to reach for another as her body morphed, twisting into muscle and scales, wrapping round his body and wings and tightening instantly. She’d wrapped the latter half of her body round him like a snake, leaving her upper body in the fae state and sneered when he choked for air as she squeezed, “what was that? Sorry, I cant hear you over your own spit.”

“Fox, let him go, please.” Lucien had backed up, hands in surrender. Her gaze moved to him, and the recognition that lanced through her eyes did nothing to ease the grip she had on Azriel’s body. “I never thought I’d see a child of autumn beg for the life of an Illyrian.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know. But the High Lord of Night won’t take it well if you kill his spymaster on my watch.” Finally, she eased herself off, and Aziel gasped for the precious air he’d missed. She’d put a reasonable amount of distance between them all, still on guard with how the serpentine part of her body coiled like a spring. Once he’d finally reached his feet again, she started looking for answers, “How long have I been asleep? How do you know who I am?”

“If my brother’s words are something to go off of, half a century, maybe more.” Lucien flashed her that goddamned smile, “I’m Lucien, Beron’s youngest son.”

That didn’t seem to placate her like he’d hoped, and Lucien wasn’t quick enough to move away from her attack. Talons retched from her fingernails, and she had him in her grip before he even had a chance to realise. “I suggest you keep his name out of your mouth, child, before I really do rip out your tongue.”

“He’s telling the truth, he’s a Vanserra.” Azriel wouldn’t make it in time to stop her if she made for his neck. She snorted, “And what makes you think I would believe a word that comes out of your mouth, Shadowsinger.” Shit, she’d caught on to his shadows. He pulled them back from the two, holding up his hands in the fashion Lucien had before. “You know who I am?”

“Everyone knows the little toy the High Lord of Night uses in his arsenal of weapons, though congrats on the promotion. Spymaster seems fitting for your type of… constitution.”

She’s turned her attention back to the redhead lying beneath her, “If you are telling the truth, my lord won’t be too happy if I slit this lovely, tanned neck of yours. So, I suggest you both stay where you are until I am far enough away to not turn back and change my mind.”

“wha-”

She was gone before the two could blink.

“What in gods damned was that, Lucien?!” Azriel’s anger was far beyond livid. But the autumn male simply stood, rubbing at his neck, still feeling the ghost of her claws on his skin.

“Her name’s fox. She’s been missing since before the war. One of the most dangerous fae Beron ever had under his control. He used to tell me stories of her, to scare me into going to bed.”

“And you didn’t think waking her would be a bad idea, considering she has no clue who you are?!” Lucien winced under his tone, “I thought she’d smell that we were related, nothing gets past her senses. But I suppose I really didn’t think…”

“Rhysand is gonna be pissed, you realise this?” Azriel started to pace. If they really had released something like that with no safeguards, nothing to stop her from returning to Autumn, they could be in for a lot more trouble with Beron than they first expected.

“Yea, I know.” The two made to go back to Velaris, winnowing silently.

Quick. Quick as a fox. You need to be fast, faster than anything that might catch you. His voice rang in your ears as you sprinted through the thicket, four paws pushing silently off the ground at each lurch of your body. Come on, fox. I know you’re faster than that. The hounds are going to rip you to shreds if they catch you, I wont hold them back. Gods, you needed to run. If you were still in the grove, that meant you were only one court away from Autumn, the winter court.

Sure enough, a border of ice and snow came into view, and the fur you wore changed from the fire red of his hair to the white of winter. They’d never feel you breach the border; animals came and went as seasons changed, even in the eternal courts. And your winter body would blend you into one of them long enough for you to pass through unnoticed. You’d run, run as fast as you could until you reached him.

Five hundred years you haven’t been watching from the shadows. Watching and waiting. You knew the day they took you he wouldn’t look for you. You had failed him, had gotten caught. You are my fox, quick and sly. But if you get caught in a snare, there will be nothing I can do to stop the hunters from claiming their game.

Hours had passed until you reached the land of Autumn, and your body returned to the red that you never forgot in your imprisonment. It was all you could remember of him, that and his cruel disposition. You had forgotten his eyes, but never the feeling as they landed on you with cold contempt.

You made for the cabin on the base of the mountains. You knew he’d keep it warded. And all you had to do was cross the threshold and he’d come for you.

Being encased in that stone should have turned you mad, but the hot anger you had been laced with for the change had kept you burning with sanity. You would be no good to him if you’d freed yourself and come back with no wits. So it had burned, for year upon year, until the red head idiot decided he knew who you were and released you.

He hadn’t smelt like Beron, you’d checked. Lady of Autumn, sure, but Beron was no where in his blood. You wondered what happened there.

The cabin was in sight when you felt your legs give out. Shifting back, you wobbled on fae legs to the front of the porch. But you couldn’t sit. If he came and couldn’t remember you, you’d have to make fast work at fleeing before he decided you were a threat to his oasis.

It didn’t take long for the beating of hooves and the pounding of paws to reach your ears. Light flickered in the distance, one lone torch among the forest of orange and yellow.

Standing steady, you raised your head as the face you’d forgotten became clear. Gods, now that it was in front of you again, you realised it had never left you. It haunted your dreams, your nightmares, and every waking moment you sat kneeling in that grove. You'd only forgotten that it was real, and not a figment of your trapped mind.

Nothing was said as the hounds came charging, ready to tear whatever decided to breach their master’s property. But the wave of scent you let wash over you had them stopping in their tracks. Now unsure of whether you were truly the threat they were first ordered to rid.

“State your business, before I am no longer lenient with my dogs’ lag.” He voice sounded harder than you could think to remember. You hated it, wondering what he'd done in the time you were gone to sound like that. But you bowed deep, knee hitting the wood beneath you in reverence, “my lord.”

You didn’t dare lift your head, couldn’t bear it if you looked up and saw nothing of recognition in his eyes. But the sharp inhale, small enough that only you would ever hear it, loosed the fear filling your chest. “Fox?” you smiled.

“It’s been a long time, Eris.”

#pro eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris vanserra angst #eris vanserra #autumn court #acotar fandom #acomaf #a court of thorns and roses #azriel acotar #lucien vanserra #beron vanserra #high lord eris #high lord of autumn

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girlactionfigure · 3 months

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Ok, you want to know from a lawyer why the allegation that Israel is committing genocide is false?

Fine.

I prefer to focus on the absurdity of the allegation, especially since it is Hamas that expressly seeks Jewish & Israeli genocide; but it's clear people want this analysis.

Genocide is defined by the 1948 UN Convention on Prevention & Punishment of the Crime of Genocide as: (1) the coordinated; (2) planned; and (3) intentional destruction, in whole or in part, of a national, ethnical, racial or religious group.

Let's set aside for a minute the fact that the the #UN Convention regarding #genocide was adopted because of what the #Nazis had done to the #Jewsthereby making its invocation here not only absurdly false, but also unforgivably offensive.

That outrageousness aside, we can analyze the elements of the crime of genocide under the present situation in #Gaza.

The requisite mens rea to find a government guilty of genocide is the intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a particular group of people.

This intent to commit genocide doesn't magically come into being just because people want to believe it exists. There must be actual proof of criminal intent to destroy a particular group of people.

#SouthAfrica cannot possibly carry its burden of showing Israel "intended or intends to commit genocide"; thus, the allegation fails.

Just some of the obvious reasons intent to commit genocide could not possibly be shown follow:

- 10/7 & Hamas' words since 10/7 have proven the #terror group would, if it could, continue carrying out massacres until it killed every #Israeli & potentially every #Jew on Earth. Israel, like every other UN member state, has the inherent right to self-defense under Article 51 of the UN Charter. In this case, Israel's right to self-defense continues until it has done everything "necessary" to to ensure #Hamas can never attack Israeli civilians again because of: (1) the genocidal brutality of the #October7Massacre; (2) Hamas' 35+ years of genocidal warfare against Israel & Jews; & (3) Hamas' express & repeated commitment to repeat massacres like 10/7 "again and again." Therefore, Israel's right to self-defense includes both the right to eliminate the threat from Hamas to its civilians & to restore a sense of security to its civilians.

- The Hamas-run Gaza Health Ministry claims 22,000 #Palestinians have died. Even if that number was reliable (it is not), Hamas claims every one of the deaths was a civilian, not a #HamasTerrorist. That is obviously not the case. Israel claims to have killed ~9,000 Hamas terrorists. Even assuming the Hamas numbers were correct, that would mean about 1.45 civilians have been killed for every 1 "combatant" (Hamas terrorist). As horrible as the loss of any civilian life is, it is simply a fact that civilians suffer disproportionately in war & what Israel has done in protecting civilian lives is unprecedented in the history of urban warfare. In fact, according to the UN statistics of global conflict, the average civilian to combatant killed ratio is 9 civilians killed for every 1 combatant killed. This ratio in and of itself makes the allegation of "genocide" a complete absurdity.

- Even assuming the "worst case scenario" numbers above of ~9,000 terrorists killed & ~13,000 civilians killed still does not take into account the cause of those civilian deaths. We know that somewhere between 20%-35% of all Hamas & #Palestinian #Islamic #Jihad missiles misfire & land in Gaza (like the one that landed at a Gaza hospital that Israel was wrongly accused of bombing). So, how many Gaza civilians were killed by misfired rockets from Palestinian terror groups? Suddenly, that already incredible ratio of civilians:combatants in the annals of warfare is improving even further.

- There are at least dozens of videos of Hamas #terrorists firing at #IDF troops while wearing civilian clothing (which is itself a #WarCrime) to blend in with the civilian population. So, how many Gaza "civilians" who were killed were actually just Hamas terrorists wearing #civilian clothing? That civilian:combatant ratio is improving once again.

- We know from video, reconnaissance, audio, interrogations, & eye-witness accounts (including from #Gazans themselves) that Hamas uses both voluntary & involuntary human shields to protect Hamas terrorists & their weapons (each time they do it, that is also a war crime). So, how many Gaza "civilians" who were killed were voluntarily acting as human shields for Hamas? And while Israel has made significant efforts to limit civilians casualties, those involuntary human shields who die are legally dead at the hands of Hamas. Wow, that civilian:combatant ratio is looking beyond amazing now!

- There is video, photo, interrogation, & eye-witness accounts that Hamas uses women & children under 18 in combat roles. Therefore, not every allegedly killed woman or child counts as a "civilian."

- What kind of genocidal army would do what Israel has been doing in engaging in massive warning campaigns before it attacks via hundreds of thousands of phone calls, text messages, leaflets, & via roof knocking? Gazans are actually given so much warning & time to evacuate that the extreme majority of "civilians" who remain in a targeted area are there either because they support Hamas or because they were forced to stay & act as human shields by Hamas. Essentially, not only is Israel obviously not conducting a genocide, it has completely eliminated their own advantage of surprise that would have helped Israel eradicate Hamas much quicker by providing warnings that reach both civilians & Hamas terrorists.

- A large percentage of Palestinian deaths in Gaza have been due to their combined use by Hamas as human shields & by Hamas' refusal to permit Gaza civilians to either to use Hamas tunnels as bomb shelters or to flee via safe corridors provided by the

@IDF

(what kind of genocidal army provides safe corridors for civilians even knowing some Hamas terrorists will manage to escape by blending in with the crowd???). In other words, it is Hamas that is by far the most responsible party for putting #Gazan #civilians in harm's way; and the mere fact that civilians have died is in no way indicative of any deliberate intent on the part of Israel to kill Palestinian civilians - let alone intentionally "destroy" the population, as required to prove genocide.

- A country's intention to destroy a group in whole or in part is typically found in state policy (as it was with the Nazis & as it is with Hamas). However, no such policy in Israel has ever existed. Israel has made clear repeatedly (and its actions, with some examples stated above, show this is more than just words) that its goal is to "operate[] against Hamas & other terrorist groups in Gaza, not against the civilian population ... Israel wishes no harm to civilians & is committed to addressing the humanitarian needs of those suffering ..."

- Simply, the loss of lives in Gaza are reasonably explained by & attributable to Israel's necessary self-defense military goal of eradicating Hamas' ability to make war. The loss of lives in Gaza are not, however, reasonably explained by some claimed genocide on the part of Israel, as there is no actual evidence to support a finding of the type of criminal intent required to prove genocide.

- Israel is a straight-up parliamentary #democracy; thus, it has voices in the Knesset that can be extreme. Those voices, however, are not mainstream; and, more importantly, those voices are not the ones who are responsible for prosecuting the war against Hamas. Therefore, their words (indelicate as they may have been) are irrelevant to a finding of genocide on the part of the government of Israel. The Israeli war cabinet in charge of prosecuting the war to eradicate Hamas consists of only five people: PM Benjamin Netanyahu, Defense Minister Yoav Gallant, unity coalition member, former Deputy PM, & Minister of Defense Benny Gantz, former military Chief of Staff Gadi Eisenkot, & Minister of Strategic Affairs Ron Dermer. Attempting to attribute the words of anyone else, especially in the very fringes of Israel's eclectic democratic government, to try to show proof of government intent to commit genocide fails as a matter of both fact & law. Any comments by the five members of the war cabinet at which any dishonest person may wish to point to try to prove "intent to commit genocide," in reality can only be reasonably interpreted as statements referring to the destruction of the Hamas terrorist regime.

So, what is the takeaway?

It is South Africa's burden to show Israel had/has the intent to carry out a "genocide" of the Palestinian people in Gaza. For the foregoing reasons (among many others - but this is long enough for X), South Africa cannot possibly prove intent to commit genocide.

South Africa's allegations are defamatory & are an attempt to hold the world's only Jewish State to a different standard than every other state in the history of humankind; and, perhaps worse, to try to turn the victims of a genocide into the alleged committers of a genocide.

Were the #ICJ to find intent to commit "genocide" here, then no country on Earth would be permitted to act in self-defense in the event it is attacked - no matter how horrible the attack - if any civilians may be killed in the process.

If that were the case, Hamas & other terrorist organizations would be given carte blanche to attack countries with impunity & then simply hide behind civilians to suddenly become entirely immune from justice. That obviously can never be the law.

Captain Allen

#Education #Israel #Palestine

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 4 months

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Could you do Malleus x Yuu or reader, it is in the future when they are married and have a son named (ironically) Tsunotaro. It is the celebration of either Yuus/ reader and Malleus wedding anniversary or their sons birthday. Everyone in the realm is invited/ their old school friends. Their ages normally at first due to his mothers human side and has her hair but the rest they have from their father. (Cute horns and all) Rollo (secret Yandere for them) is in attendance with his son Neige (snow in French) his mother died in childbirth and views Yuu/ reader as a mother figure since they are over at the kingdom quite a lot and play with the young prince. Leona’s son Sonbaai (sun bathe) is starting his first year at Night Raven College is in attendance reluctantly. (Doesn’t share his father’s laziness) the event is sabotaged and chaos ensues. Malleus and his family separated. Rollo set it all up, not giving up his goal from the masquerade event and offers them a place with him if they leave Malleus and their son behind. They refuse and he uses the chaos to trap the two and burn them alive. The reader is clutching Tsunotaro telling them it’s going to be okay as the fire they are trapped in worsens (maybe they are in a room or stuck) Tsunotaro and his mother are saved by either Sebek or Silver. the Queen is in severe condition, but Tsunotaro is unharmed as he is fire proof. They are helped by their Allie’s but the Queen is put into a coma for healing and Malleus wants vengeance and gathers his friends from their school days.

Jealousy Burns | Yandere Rollo Flamm

Rollo would never hurt you

Or attempt to mortally wound you without guaranteeing your safety

Nor would he jeopardize his appearance in your eyes

Since you’ve met he’s already have the image of someone untrustworthy

But he’s grown and kept in touch with you to build something new

Slowly and quietly biding his time

“Congratulations on your…engagement.”

He’ll stifle it

Shove his anger down to fester and boil as he brews a plan

A plan that will leave you coming to him in the end

But he has to be careful

His enemy is wiser, older, and plenty protective of his spouse more than ever

But he’ll find a way

Find some easily manipulated pawns and begin an orchestra of a kingdom’s demise

It is his passion, afterall

The fire flower now cultivated into another blossom

A different color, a more volatile effect, and a more durable network of roots

He doesn’t plan them

He has nothing to do with them

…but his followers on the otherhand…

His followers know better than to let his name even leave their lips, magicing themselves dead before they can even be tortured

So when the King and their spawn are rendered nearly comatose by the outbreak it’s easy for those nobles to push the human away

And its so easy for Rollo to open his doors and his aide…in your separate research

“I fear this new plant was a cross breed, with the one I used all those years ago….I am…so sorry.”

“Oh Rollo it’s okay. It’s not your fault!”

Yes, it’s not his fault at all

So your guard is let down while you have his shoulder to cry on

A drop of mere suggestion as you share a spot of tea

“I’d hate to have your mind full of something so despairing….so how about I help distract you.”

#yandere rollo flamme #yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yanderes #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst x reader #yandere twst #yandere #yandere rollo #yandere rollo flamm #yandere rollo flamme x reader #yandere rollo flamm x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader

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fishing-lesbian-catgirl · 4 months

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are the arknights girls gijinkas of their names or are they just named like that

Uhh kind of neither. Arknights girls choose an operator code name for themselves when they join Rhodes Island. Some choose their actual names and are just named that, which means you can have an operator named Dorothy Franks choose Dorothy, but you can also have an operator named Olivia Silence choose Silence. Why is her last name Silence? Not important. Other people choose things that are thematically appropriate for who they are, construction worker Shana Moleman also works in combat as a defender who carries a big shield and acts as a wall to protect people behind her, so she choose the name Cement. There are all sorts of reasons to choose the names they do, Pudding choose Pudding because her new boss that was flirting with her called her Pudding and she just thought it was a nickname. The in universe animal/monster-girl race that is on Manticore’s medical record is just “Manticore”. Every character is different

This is to say that the people who design Arknights operators have their own reasons for choosing their names. For Asbestos’s case she is a salamander girl, her role in a team is tanking magical damage that is often in the form of fire. Salamanders used to be thought to be made from fire, as when they set logs that they were sleeping in on fire they would scurry out of the flames, this connection between salamanders and fire went on for a long time and also inspired things like charmander from Pokemon. Because salamanders were thought to be connected to fire or even fireproof, when the soft, fibrous, and extremely fireproof material asbestos was discovered it became known as “salamander wool”. Asbestos the material is toxic and carcinogenic, Asbestos the character exists in a world where there is a somewhat common terminal illness called oripathy that is essentially a magic rock cancer, people tend to be very afraid of the infected as its grants them increased ability to do powerful magic and when the disease kills them their body spreads infectious particles everywhere around them. Asbestos the character is one of the infected, and she’s also a toxic asshole who has only one friend because she’s very abrasive and rude to basically everyone and likes to be alone. All of the things about asbestos the material fit perfectly in the package of Asbestos the character. She’s a fire-proof, flamethrower-wielding, magic resistant magic tank, who has cancer, has the potential to spread cancer, has a toxic personality, and is a salamander girl. While in canon it seems there’s just an extremely fitting hazardous material that she named herself off of, in reality her name was likely decided early in her design to make all the elements of her fit together perfectly

Sorry that’s probably a longer answer than you wanted lol

#arknights #asbestos #asks

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chaikachi · 9 months

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Little Red Riding Hood, The Big Bad Wolf, & The Silver Bullet

Aka I did an Oscar as The Little Prince analysis and now I wanna do one for Ruby's allusion in honour of the 10th Anniversary.

I know most if not all of us are familiar, but I'm still going to start with a summary.

Little Red is a story about a young girl in a red cloak who is sent into the woods at her mother's behest to bring baked goods to her sick grandmother. There, she meets a malicious wolf that asks her many questions, to which she answers all truthfully and without hesitation. The wolf takes this information and uses it to beat the girl to her destination where he then swallows her grandma whole and disguises himself in the woman's clothes. There he waits for the child to arrive and come closer so he can swallow her up too.

There are actually two popular versions of this story with different endings that we often look back to.

In Perrault's story, there is no happy ending. They're both eaten up, the wolf is content. The end. But in the Grimm version, there is an additional character... the Huntsman (aka the woodsman). He hears the wolf snoring after its meal and ends up cutting the beast open & saving the victims. Then, with the help of Little Red Riding Hood, he kills the wolf before it can do anymore harm.

All in all, it's a story about childhood innocence being lost, learning not to trust strangers, and being mindful to always follow the correct path. For if you stray too far, you may lose track of time, invite unwanted danger, or find yourself lost.

In RWBY, we have some very clear allusions here since it's the basis for so much of the show as a whole:

Little Red - Ruby Rose

The Mother - Summer Rose

The Grandmother - Maria

The Hunstman/Woodsman - All Three of Them

The Wolf - Salem and her Grimm (but ESPECIALLY The Hound)

They're all pretty self explanatory.

Ruby has the red cloak, her og trailer is clearly inspired by the tale, she loves baked goods, she's referred to as "Red" and "Little Red" by Torchwick & Cinder. She's also a huntress. And, by and large, her entire arc is about losing that childhood innocence and the view that life "is like a fairytale" as well as struggling with what the "right path" to follow is.

Summer is the mother (baker of cookies) and also the huntsman (slayer of giant monsters). The battle axe being her weapon choice alludes well to the alternate name, Woodsman, as well.

While Maria as the grandmother makes the most sense. Another silver eyed huntress that becomes a mentor figure for Ruby.

And while Salem, her war, & the Grimm (that are all emblematic of that loss of innocence) can absolutely symbolize the wolf... There's a reason why I want to focus on The Hound.

All three previous characters are connected by a very specific common denominator: Silver Eyes.

And the hound is no different.

Just another huntsman... but one devoured by the malice of a canine. And, if Ruby's theory is right, that's the same fate that Summer met as well.

And if you think about Silver Eyes specifically... What is one of the most famous lines from the original fairytale?

"My, what big eyes you have grandmother." "The better to see you with, my dear."

Which, when applied to the grimmification of SEWs, is HAUNTING.

Terrifying when you remember "Woah... you have silver eyes". Also thanks to Behind The Scenes content, that Ruby's hair design was always meant to "be a bit wolf-y". And that since Volume 4, Salem has been interested in capturing Ruby alive... I am WORRIED ABOUT HER.

Some interesting things about silver though that ARE worth noting...

1. "In folklore, a bullet cast from silver is often one of the few weapons that are effective against a werewolf or witch."

2. "The term silver bullet is also a metaphor for a simple, seemingly magical, solution to a difficult problem."

3. "In the Brothers Grimm fairy-tale of The Two Brothers, a bullet-proof witch is shot down by silver buttons, fired from a gun."

The lyric "Yeah I'm a girl but I'm also a gun" from Triumph really tells us point blank (lol) why Ruby is so important to this war against Salem, huh.

I'm gonna end this meta on a fun little easter egg; a hidden fifth character allusion to the original Red Riding Hood fairytale: The Woods.

Now I know what you're thinking, the woods aren't a person, they're a location. But they're INCREDIBLY important to the story.

Overall, the woods are the world outside of the cabin that Little Red grows up in. Whenever she travels beyond it, she's liable to meet all sorts of horrible tragedies and monsters. But I want to talk again specifically about The Hound & just where Ruby first meets them: Atlas.

Or, more specifically, Ironwood's kingdom.

For those unfamiliar, while Jimmy's main allusion is the Tin Man from Oz, his last name gives us a hint to another subtle allusion: Járnviðr. Aka the Iron Wood of Midgard in Norse Mythology (a mythos that's been alluded to a lot in RWBY).

Whiiich if you look at a stanza (40) in the infamous Völuspá, a historic poem which is chalk full of Norse myths, you get the following passage:

In the east sat an old woman in Iron-wood and nurtured there offspring of Fenrir a certain one of them in monstrous form will be the snatcher of the moon

A poem that talks all about the Biggest Baddest Wolf of the Norse pantheon, Fenrir... who is the offspring of a powerful Witch...

and is destined to eat the moon...

All within the Iron Wood, a character Ruby spends an entire volume contemplating on whether or not she can trust...

And the moment she does finally tell Ironwood the truth? The secrets she was keeping? The woods become unsafe, the witch and the wolf appear, and everything else falls apart. Resulting her and her team lost and very far from home.

Say what you want about analyses like these but CRWBY knows what they're doing, okay?

#rwby #ruby rose #rwby meta #analysis #rwby analysis #chainalysis #little red riding hood #did I wanna tie this into warrior in the woods to make it about rg? yes #was i able to? no #that'll have to be its own thing #greenlightvolume10 #long post

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cassiefromhell · 7 months

Text

Bats and Fire: The Very Beginnings

What if we took y/n (who is, in this fic, a monster researcher/hunter) being mated to a couple acotar men... then made it all the acotar men (batboys, eris, lucien)....

So this was a silly joke. Then I wrote it. Then I realized that this could be multiple parts... so welcome to:

Bats and Fire

01 - The Very Beginnings

(this is such proof that i will write anything and i'm 6x more likely to write it if its MESSY and CHAOTIC)

Warnings: none

WC: 2k

Finding out you’re mated to all the ACOTAR men would be a doozy.

At first it’s Rhys, when you make eye contact with him while on a business visit in Velaris…

“I know,” you laugh, gently nudging your friend’s shoulder. “Boo hoo, you don’t like the Night Court. But it’s beautiful. We’ve been in worse places on business.”

“That’s tru— oh my cauldron, look who it is!” She points to the back of a man walking with a tall blonde woman, and you can immediately sense the power radiating off of him. He must be who you’re looking for: the High Lord of Night.

“Yes!” you grin, tightening your grip on the jar in your hands — which holds a very menacing pixie that has been stealing magic from residents of Prythian all over. The High Lord of Autumn had commissioned its capture, and you had tracked it back to night, and well… here you were.

“Lord Rhysand!” you call out, gracefully sliding your way through the crowd. “Lord Rhysand, I must speak with you!”

Someone bumps into you, and you stumble, crashing straight into the High Lord’s chest.

“You bellowed?”

“Yes, yes— sorry, my Lord. But you see, this pixie—”

But then you look up, meeting his stunning violet-blue gaze.

You drop your jar, and it shatters on the cobblestone ground, the pixie exploding out of the rubble, trying to make a break for it. The creature is immediately surrounded by darkness, unable to make its grand escape.

“You’re…” you whisper, covering your mouth with a hand.

“…My mate.”

Cassian and Azriel came shortly after. You and Rhys got close quickly, so why wouldn’t you be introduced to his friends?

“Darling?” Rhysand says, glancing around the room, his eyes finally landing on you. “Oh, good— you’re all ready. Remember that it’s cold, so wear plenty of layers—”

You blink up at him, gesturing to the not one, not two, not three, but four layers he’s made you put on. “Rhys. I’m going to be very warm. I’ve been to the Illyrian mountains on hunting trips before and I can confirm that this is too much.”

“It’s gotten colder in recent years.”

“Sure.”

Rhys grins, kisses the side of your head, and takes your hand. “Ready? We won’t be there for two long, I just want to do a little surveillance with the camps and introduce you to my brothers while we’re there.”

With a quick nod, you’re enveloped by darkness and wind. And then it all fades, and chill air bites at your cheeks and nose.

Rhysand holds you close to his side as you trudge through the snow. You wrap your coats tighter around yourself, leaning into his warmth.

And then you feel it.

You freeze.

An electric connection stuns you, seeming to form at your heart and spread through your chest.

And then another.

You reluctantly look over your shoulder, cursing when you see them. Two tall Illyrian males, staring at you. They definitely know. And you have the gut feeling that these two males are the Cassian and Azriel that Rhys told you about.

“Ah, look, there they are,” Rhys grins, waving towards the two males, who have both started in your direction.

This is your moment: fight, flight, or freeze? Your heart pounds in your chest—they’re getting closer—and the crowd is so thick with people…

As a monster researcher and hunter, you’ve never fled once in your life.

…But now is a fantastic time to start.

“Restroom,” you blurt, and then sprint from Rhys’s side, burying yourself in the crowd of taller Fae and wings and fur coats.

You weave between the people, attempting to mask your scent, and then burst into a small corner shop. A bakery, filled with the smells of bread and pastries. Perfect to cover your trail.

You walk up to the counter, fishing out a few coppers. “Do you have anything particularly smelly?”

The baker raises a brow, his wings shifting behind him as he gives you a once-over dripping with judgment. “Excuse me?”

“Love?”

You curse under your breath at the sound of Rhys’s voice. And then you slowly turn around, finding your mate… and your other two mates.

So you face your fate.

The Illyrians were easy to love. You got to know them in a matter of weeks, but you had other jobs to attend to, and was soon in the Autumn Court, where you had to finally turn in that damned pixie to High Lord Eris…

Are you sure you feel safe there? Azriel asks down the bond. One of us can come and accompany you.

Yes, you confirm. All is well. I’m just turning in this little beast. I’ll be back before sundown.

He sent you a wave of love, paired with a sarcastic you have fun with that.

So here you are, climbing a ladder to get to the top level of the Autumn palace. It’s built like a treehouse, with ladders separating the levels unless you’re nobility or a special guest, in which case you get to use the fancy-dancy wooden staircases in the center.

But being a monster specialist is pretty damn far from nobility. So you get the ladders route.

You decide that you hate this place.

Hoisting yourself up onto the final platform, where the throne room is, you climb to your feet.

A guard gives you a dirty look, holding out a spear to stop you in your path. “Female. State your name and business.”

You say your name, and hold up the jar containing a very angry pixie. “The High Lord commissioned this pixie’s capture. Now, if you’ll let me go, this Tinkerbelle is very eager to find an escape route.”

“You didn’t give advance warning of your visit.”

“I sent word a month ago,” you snarl, baring your teeth.

His spear strikes you quicker than your Fae reflexes can react. It collides with your cheek, sending you stumbling back, blood rushing down your jaw.

“What in Prythian are you doing, Magus?” an unfamiliar male voice enters the encounter, and you immediately see boots approaching.

“She was trying to force her way in—”

“Liar,” you hiss. You wipe away the blood and face the guard once more, free hand tightening on the pixie jar. “I have proper certification, if you would just let me—”

“She’s aggressive, your majesty.”

Your majesty?

You look up at the male who had approached. You’re met with a golden-skinned male, with a scar through one eye and a whirring, mechanical eyeball. When he too looks at you, you feel the slightest… ittiest bittiest… tug.

Shit.

His jaw drops, long ginger hair falling over his shoulder. “You’re…”

The doors to the throne room swing open, revealing a male that looks like your newfound fourth mate. But he’s wearing a crown, so he must be the High Lord that you came for.

And when his stunning copper eyes turn to you, it happens.

For the fifth time.

“Nope,” you say, throwing the jar in High Lord Eris’s direction. “Nope. Not again. Not doing this.”

With that, you turn on your heel, starting back towards the ladder.

“Wait,” the first male jumps in front of you, eyes glimmering. “You’re… you’re my mate.”

“What do you mean?” Eris jumps in, stepping into view and rapidly approaching. “She’s my mate.”

“See, so there’s this phenomenon,” you start, gritting your teeth. “I already have three mates. I don’t feel the need for another two. The Mother is cruel and she thinks that building me a harem is great entertainment. But you two are officially out. Capishe?”

The two males looked at eachother, and then back to you—

But you were gone.

We have an issue, you stated down the bond to your Illyrian mates.

You knew that blocking out two mates would not work. And it didn’t. They sent you flowers and gifts, and... oh, the gifts... such expensive and exquisite things... for weeks, until you caved… and called a meeting for all of your mates.

You sit in silence at The House of Wind’s dining table, monitoring the males’ expressions. They're all glaring at each other. The Mother definitely could have given you a less… volatile… group.

“Okay,” you start, scratching the back of your neck. “So… I think this is it.”

“I’d like to put it on the record that you said you were sure we were all last time,” Cassian grits out, wings rigid at his back.

“This is different. Now, we need to go over rules, boundaries… anything that comes to mind?”

“Separated court times,” Lucien starts, seeming rather open to the situation. “Eris and I manage the Autumn Court, and these three are always in Night, so it makes sense to do a week-on, week-off schedule.”

“Her work requires her to travel,” Azriel joins in, twirling Truth-Teller in his hand. “You couldn’t expect her to just stay in your court for a week at a time.”

“Of course he didn’t mean that,” Eris snarls, ear twitching. “He meant during her off time.”

“I could—” you try to join in, but it doesn’t really work out for you.

“I plan on making her my High Lady, which she has already agreed to,” Rhysand growls. “So she’ll be spending a lot of time in the Night Court.”

Cassian nods, joining in. “And we don’t want her to give up her passions. Which seems to be what you want. So she’ll be either at the Night Court or traveling. You two can… visit… her.”

“I really wouldn’t mind—”

“And what if I want her to be my High Lady?” Eris stands, lips pulling back as he faces Rhys. “Perhaps she’d prefer to reside in a more respectable court than Night.”

That prompts both Azriel and Cassian to stand, growling and wings flaring. “You’re a piece of scum and she does not deserve to be tied to the likes of you,” Azriel responds, bitterness and anger dripping in his tone.

“Have you lost all your dignity?” Lucien shoots to his feet too, and Rhys follows suit.

They start yelling. And arguing. And every time you try to cut in, they ignore you.

So you conjure up something that should get their attention.

“Contraceptive brews!” you shout, throwing your arms in the air.

Sure enough, the males go silent, turning to look at you.

“Sit down.”

And they all do.

Like puppies taking a command.

“Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel and I have all agreed that the males take the contraceptive brews. I have a rigorous travel schedule that often includes random overnights in the woods or mountains while hunting or researching, so I don’t always have access to them,” you explain, gesturing to the Illyrians.

Eris raises a brow. “Wouldn’t it make sense for you to just carry it with you rather than all five of us taking—”

“Drink the brew or you don’t get it,” Cassian growls, making a lewd gesture.

“New rule. No more fighting. It’s overwhelming and stupid.” you announce, taking the ribbon out of your hair and putting it in the middle of the table. “This is the Talking Ribbon. When you want to talk, you must have the ribbon. Else you shut the fuck up.”

“That is your—”

“Rhys. Talking Ribbon.”

Rhys obediently takes the ribbon, then tries speaking again. “This is your favorite ribbon. I wouldn’t risk this being used… it could get torn.”

Lucien takes the ribbon gingerly, and then faces you. “Then we will not tear the ribbon. Right, everyone?”

The males all nod.

You sigh, and then gesture around the group. “My time will be spent as I please. Now, I think I’ve been here for as long as I need to, so you five can work out the details on your own.” You stand, and walk away from the table.

“Love,” Rhys calls after you. “Love, I think that maybe we would benefit from your presence—”

“I can’t always be your mediator. I have a Wyrm to hunt. Good night.”

And you leave the males to grumble amongst each other.

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theold-ultraviolence · 1 year

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The Loneliest (1/2) • Aemond Targaryen x reader

Summary: 1925. They say that the Sunfyre Cinema is haunted. Floris, your best friend and neighbor, warns you not to spend all your time there, claiming that a ghost operates the movie projector. Still, The Sunfyre is your home, as you seek comfort to escape the loneliness that marks your days. CW: 1920's au, mixes fictional & historical elements. I envision Westeros as a stand in for the U.K here. The idea of movie projectionist!Aemond came from watching the movie Pearl, although this isn't 100% based on that. Smut will come in part 2. Words: 3k.

1925

They say the movie theater in the town of Dorne is haunted.

They say it belongs to the heirs of one the wealthiest families in the European country of Westeros; four siblings who didn’t quite know what to do with their inheritance, so they spent their money importing pictures from the other side of the Atlantic. Regardless of whoever runs it, some said the movie business, despite its novelty, had no chance of lifting off after the war. Who could’ve had time for such banalities?

Only lost souls, apparently.

Lonely people seeking comfort in the dusty silver light that carries stories within it – desperately seeking a bit of magic in dark rooms to escape their isolated days.

And you? You might be the loneliest of all. No family, no prospects, and a job at a sleazy pub that will run you to an early grave.

The Sunfyre Cinema still stands, for people like you, with its yellowish lights shining like a beacon of hope in the cold winter nights.

Floris, your best friend and neighbor, warns you not to walk by yourself at night all the way to The Sunfyre. She’s often stayed with you when the midnight wind sounds too much like the cries of wounded soldiers she’s tended to. Those nights, bundled up by the fire with a warm cup of tea, she tells you stories of a ghost operating the film projector.

"The ghost that haunts The Sunfyre", Floris calls it. "A creature like The Phantom from your favorite novel by Gaston Leroux." She’s recounted her tale so many times that she’s even started to spice up its details here and there.

Sometimes, the ghost was once a prince who had his eye taken out by his own nephews; others, the prince took his own eye as a gift for his grieving mother after having lost her husband to the Spanish Flu. Knowing your taste for spooks, she’s told you that he was the suitor of a witch, who asked him for his left eye as a proof of his devotion.

You’re endlessly entertained, but in the end you can’t help but shake your head. You practically live in The Sunfyre and have never seen such an apparition. If there was truly a monster living in the projection room, you’d be the first to know.

Almost every night after your work shifts, you either walk or ride your bike to the deserted town of Dorne to watch a picture. Rarely are there people there with you – mostly rows of empty dark velvet seats as your companions. Often, you’ve turned around towards the spear of light that emanates from the little booth at the very top of the room, trying to catch the shadow of the mysterious being your friend has told you about, but you see nothing.

When the picture ends, you stay for a moment, fixing your hearing to detect a huff or a growl to indicate that there’s someone cooped up in there indeed, but nothing. There’s only the grainy static as the movie comes to an end, and the slide-and-click sound of the film roll being ejected.

It’s as if the projector operates itself.

Could there really be a ghost in there, after all?

You really shouldn’t be out in the rain like this. Shouldn’t be spending your last coins on a movie ticket, but as you rush through the downpour, holding on to your raincoat for dear life, you cannot contain the excitement bubbling up inside you.

You had this day marked on your calendar for weeks. The Sunfyre was going to project an adaptation of the Phantom of the Opera with Lon Chaney. The fact that the theater even bothered to import new releases despite you practically being their sole customer – at least the only constant one – amazed you. So you really, really, really couldn’t miss it for the world.

Floris had insisted that it was irresponsible. That you weren’t going to have enough money left for your month’s rent, that you were gonna catch a cold if you went out on a stormy night. Yet, as reckless as it is, you don’t care. You had been looking forward to this from the moment you’d read in the newspapers that Carl Laemmle was producing an adaptation of the novel – and even more thrilled when you saw the poster for it at The Sunfyre.

Floris was certainly right, but you were desperate for anything that would make your gray days seem a little brighter – desperate for any novelty to the lonesome routine that sucked the life out of you, morning by morning. Desperate for a way out of the countryside. Only the pictures could offer that escape.

So you scurry out of the rain to shield yourself under the marquee of The Sunfyre, giddily paying for your ticket before making your way to the hall that has now become a second home to you. As in most nights, you’re alone despite it being a premiere, but this was to be expected for a monday night.

The lights go down, and the ghoulish text of the opening credits immediately envelops you into an eerie atmosphere; a score of dramatic strings carries you to the first scene of the picture, showing a man dwelling along catacombs, unknowingly followed by a cloaked figure that hides in the shadows.

You’re on the edge of your seat the entire time – biting your fingernails and grinning as you read each subtitle slide, following along the action and suspense all doubled over yourself on your seat. As if you’ll get any closer to the screen and be pulled right into the story. Especially when the character of Christine looms closer to the phantom as he plays the piano; she curiously eyes him from the back, hesitating on calling for him to turn.

The camera shot changes quickly, just as she’s about to unmask him! And then!

– the film jams, cutting the action, engulfing the hall in darkness.

The spectral vibe of the film taints the room; the longer you spend in darkness as you wait for the projection to come back on, the more you tremble. The silence is so dense it could be cut with a knife; the distant sound of the storm being of no aid to your shivering. You hug yourself tight and repeat to yourself in your head – it’s just a movie, it’s just a movie, it’s just a movie.

But an odd sound jabs at your mental spiral.

A grunt.

Followed by muffled curses and clanks – as if someone was struggling with the machinery in the booth upstairs.

Tentatively, you turn in your seat, and your heart drops to the floor when you see a silhouette from a distance.

Gulping down your courage, you rise from your seat and walk up the stairs, aiming to reach the top row seats that are inches below the projection booth.

You rise to your tiptoes to peek inside the booth but a sudden flash of light blinds you.

You recoil from the stab of light only to be met with the monstrous face of the Phantom after being unmasked. The frightful sight makes you plop back down onto the seats immediately, covering your eyes while you try to steady your breathing.

From the space between your fingers you check for the scene to be over, and once you’re calm, curiosity stirs you to look up once more.

What makes your breathing come up in quick pants is not the fear of the movie.

It's the brief image of a man in the projection booth.

Floris hadn’t believed you when you said you’d seen the supposed ghost. Not after she’d asked for you to describe him, and you found yourself at a loss for words.

Alright, so you hadn’t really seen the man, merely his shadow.

For all you know, it could've been an actual spirit in there. But it sparked a sense of determination, to see what the projectionist at the cinema looked like.

You didn’t know why it compelled you so much. Maybe it was the deeply rooted ache in you to find a friend? To know more about the man who handled all the motion pictures you lived for? In your mind, he had the luckiest job in the world, and you wished to learn more about him. Floris, after all, didn’t share your interests. Found them odd, even though she always listened to you with great care

“You’re always yearning for worlds that don’t exist,” she would tell you. “You’re so busy daydreaming about pictures that you’re going to miss what’s happening in the present. Embrace the real world, deary. It’s the only one we’ve got.”

Two mornings later, you bike your way to Dorne, right before your evening shift at the pub.

A silver-blonde woman in denim overalls, dirt-stained boots and a heavy wool coat was hiked up a wooden ladder, changing the names of the next features on the marquee. You recognize her as Helaena, for she normally worked in the ticket booth and greeted you with a kind smile every time – so pleased to see a regular, that she gifted you the pamphlets of the pictures you’d seen twice or thrice.

You let her work, and instead wander around to the alleyway, until you stumble upon the door in the back of the cinema that had a sign hung up that read, ‘do not enter’.

With fidgety fingers, you linger for a few moments, merely eyeing the door.

What are you expecting to find anyway?, you ponder while chewing on your lips, over and over. Whoever lurked behind it most definitely wouldn’t want their privacy being intruded.

Besides, what if you were banned from The Sunfyre for sticking your nose in places it didn’t belong? You’d rather be shot dead than risk not being welcomed in the one place that had become your sanctuary.

But right as you’re about to turn the other way, the door opens.

Both you and the man at the door freeze.

The first thing you notice is a head of silver hair, before seeing the eyepatch over his left eye and a luminous violet-blue eye on the right – which looked big and hopeful until a frown cast a shadow over his elegant face.

“You’re not supposed to be here!” he grunts, “Can’t you read the sign?”

You flinch and recoil from his harsh tone, heart dropping to your stomach. “I - I’m sorry! I was just – I was just leaving.”

You shake your head and make a run for it, but before you know it he grasps your hand and pulls you back. “Wait! I’m sorry. I know who you are.”

“You do!?”

He’s just as flustered as you, with a pretty pink blush spreading over his cheeks and neck. Despite his height, he seemed to be trying to make himself smaller, with one foot inside the projection room and the left side of his face leaning sideways, extra conscious of the eyepatch, wanting to hide it from you.

“Of course I do,” the man continues. He looks tough and hardened by life which makes his tone of voice an utter contradiction – all soft spoken and eloquent, with an accent that betrayed his upper class upbringing.

“You’re our best customer. Hells, you’re the reason why we haven’t even closed in the first place.”

“I am!?”

“Hmm.” He hums in affirmation and continues to stare. The lack of an eye didn’t make his gaze any less penetrating.

“I’m Aemond,” he breaks the awkward silence, offering his hand back to shake, which makes you smile, and heat to spread from within.

“Aemond Targaryen. Me and my three siblings own this place. Were you looking for something today? We don’t have a matinee scheduled – I should know, I’m the projectionist.”

So the legends were true – it was the Targaryens who owned the theater. No wonder he didn’t sound like he was from the countryside. You’re so struck untangling his words that it doesn’t even faze you that you were standing right in front of the subject of Floris’ nightmares and your own wonder – the ghost.

And, well, despite his pale skin he’s certainly no phantom. In fact, he’s rather handsome and regal-looking, even if he’s wearing nothing but a simple white shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows, and black wool pants fitted around his waist with black suspenders. You shake your head once more, laughing to yourself as you search for a coherent reply from all the excitement you’re feeling.

“No, not specifically. I…”

Should you confess that he was the reason you were here? Under any other circumstance, this probably would’ve been an idiotic thing to admit, but you figured, if you wanted to make a friend out of Aemond, you might as well be transparent from the start.

“Well, I actually came by to see if I could speak to the projectionist.” You smile kindly at him, and delight in the way his eye widens in surprise, the way his stern lips tilt ever so slightly. “I wanted to thank him for the wonderful job he does. I…”

You look down with a little bit of embarrassment, but he leans a little bit to be on your eye level and nods, encouraging you to continue.

“You see, I come here all the time, as you know,” you chuckle, “I suppose I wanted someone to chat about films with. I’m very passionate about them, and I’ve no one else to talk to.”

It’s as if the gray clouds parted, bringing in a beam of sunshine shining right down on Aemond’s entire face, making his silver hair gleam and his crystalline eye twinkle as he grins at you – so wide, you can see a hidden dimple appearing on his cheeks.

“You wanted to talk about films? With me?”

You nod, finally offering your name – as you’d been too caught up admiring the man before you, you’d completely forgotten to introduce yourself. It makes him huff out a timid laugh that you instantly count as a win, as he steps to the side to let you into his little room.

You soon note that the little projection room is far smaller than you had anticipated, though the size didn’t make for a messy space in the least. Every corner is neatly arranged; the walls are plastered with movie posters shelves full of film stock in their circular, metal encasing.

When you turn, you sigh in awe, as if you were witnessing one of the wonders of the world: the film projector, mounted right before a tiny square from which the light filtered through and expanded onto the screen. You gravitate towards it, peaking through the window to look at the empty rows of seats below you. Of course Aemond would’ve noticed you, when he had this kind of panoramic view of the cinema hall.

“It’s something to behold, isn’t it?” he murmurs from behind you.

“It certainly is. You’re so lucky to do this for a living. I’m on my feet wiping tables and serving cuppas back and forth until my feet can’t take it.”

He hums again – in what you’re quickly learning is a trademark of his – before you turn. You hadn’t expected to see a slight slouch to his demeanor, and that handsome smirk to have turned down, as if a cloud had passed through his face. A look to his left and you see it: an individual bed with fuzzy looking blankets is pushed to one wall,

“Wait, you live here? I thought –”

“My father disinherited me and my siblings. Gave it all to my half-sister, his eldest from his first marriage. At first we didn’t know what to do with the money he gave us to keep us tamed, so we built this. This is all we have now.”

You can tell there’s more storming underneath his facade, but you refrain from asking. Instead, you murmur a simple, “I’m sorry. The war has been tough for everyone.”

The last bit has you wincing mentally, feeling so lost as to what could be appropriate to say, weary of coming out too innocent and childish, when truthfully due to the isolation everyone endured during The Great War you feel like you’ve lost the touch for communication. Often at work you find yourself stuttering, unable to complete your sentences fluidly. Maybe it’s yet another reason why you preferred the movies. Anyone can understand images.

Aemond seems to read you thoroughly, shaking his head with a half-smile before looking down.

You wonder then if he had lost his eye because of the Great War.

Wonder if he’ll tell you all his stories eventually.

Aemond finally interjects your spiral of thoughts. “So what did you think of our newest feature?”

“The Phantom!? I loved it! Thought it was terrifying actually, but so great.”

Aemond shrugs, leaning against his movie shelf with his hands in the pockets of his suit pants. “It was alright. They definitely strayed from the novel to make some bits scarier. I found the make-up on Lon Chaney quite excellent, however.”

Your chest warms, all self-consciousness from before vanishing, having found someone that speaks your language.

Nearly all noon is spent with Aemond in the projection room, exchanging views about film and literature, and he even gives you a couple of pamphlets and flyers, after assuring him that it would be your absolute delight and pleasure to promote The Sunfyre at your workplace. You even tell him he’s welcomed there anytime he feels like it. It’s a bit of a trek from Dorne, and not an elegant place in the least – much less for a Targaryen – but at least the drinks were decent, and every now and again you were in charge of preparing the soup of the day, which, not to toot your own horn, was a favorite amongst patrons.

After you’ve said your goodbyes, Aemond halts as you walk away, “Wait!”

He turns inside the projection room and comes back to hand a little celluloid square to you. “Here.”

You bring it up against the sunlight and feel giddy realizing it’s a still from the movie.

“I cut this little bit when the film jammed.” Aemond confesses, making your heart swoon.

“Won’t someone notice the missing scene?”

He just shakes his head and smiles, “It must be only a second. No one will notice."

“Thank you.” You bring the delicate still to your heart and go on your way, completely missing the way Aemond was left gazing longingly at your figure for a moment before retreating to the confine of the cinema.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen fanfiction #1920s au #1920s #historical au #ewan mitchell #my writing

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