#not the absence of strength or of hardship

[softquietsteadylove]

Can we have some s o f t Thenamesh after some spice?

Thena blinked herself awake, staring up at the ceiling of one of Babylon's many murals. It just wasn't the mural from her ceiling.

Gilgamesh smiled as soon as she looked at him. It was a little surprising that he had woken before her, but then again, last night had left her senses...disengaged.

"Hey."

"Hey," she smiled back, letting him lean in so their lips could meet. Gilgamesh liked kissing--the simple act of touching in any way to convey affection and adoration.

Thena might have said she didn't understand such notions at one time. But being with Gilgamesh, she had no choice but to accept that every look he gave her--every smile, every lingering touch of his hand to her arm, all were just as heartfelt as his flowery words.

And she loved every one of them.

Gilgamesh continued to press soft, light kisses along her cheeks, letting their sighs and the rustle of the sheets underscore their little moment. He pulled her closer, his hands pressing to the skin of her back like a lizard would press to the warmth of a sunbathed rock.

Thena allowed it, purring against him as the sun offered a pleasant warmth, second only to the man next to her. "I have watch."

"No," he denied outright, with a light chuckle as he nestled his face against her breastbone and kissed over her cleavage, "stay."

Thena ran her fingers through his hair, "I would love nothing more, but I do believe my pigheaded brother will have something to say about it. And I don't want him storming in here and spoiling the mood."

Gil snorted, moving his kisses to her shoulder and then to her neck, "he'll check your room first. Probably won't even think to come here."

"Hm," Thena acquiesced, although it had less to do with him being right and more to do with the pleasant tingles she was getting from his kisses.

Gilgamesh loved showering her with little affections like this. She deserved them, and he enjoyed giving them. Even more selfishly, he enjoyed knowing that he was the only one to elicit such contentment from the Warrior Eternal.

Thena was the Goddess of War. She was a creature of strength, and solitude. She commanded respect, commanded any space around her, commanded her powers more efficiently than any army.

But Thena also liked it when he lavished her with kisses along her long column of a neck. She liked it when he scraped his facial hair over her clavicle and she liked it when he nuzzled his nose into her soft, silken hair. Thena was the epitome of strength, but she was also far too beautiful for him not to worship, no matter her protests.

"The only reason I'm leaving this bed, is to make someone some much needed food."

Thena gave him her most playful glare. She enjoyed a bit of mischief, he had come to learn about her. She liked pushing Ikaris around (out of her way), liked passing judgements on their teammates/family with Druig, liked laughing at the results of Sprite's pranks with her.

He loved her laugh.

"I do hope you're talking about yourself," she mused, giving him a smile that bared her teeth. She thought she could come off as menacing but really it was just cute.

Gil moved to capture her lips again. He tasted like the first sunbeams of morning. "I suppose I could eat."

"Very well," Thena let out a deeply feigned sigh, her fingers trailing over the broad expanse of his back muscles. "I trust you to bring back something I will enjoy."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Gil played along, rolling over onto his back and pulling her onto his chest, closer to the window. The rising sun made her positively glow. She emitted radiance the way the sun offered energy. His arms closed around her waist. He angled his head on the pillow to look at her with her chin on top of her hands on top of his chest. "And why wouldn't you be coming with me?"

"You said you would vacate the bed for sustenance," Thena pointed out, entirely correctly, too. She tapped her fingers against chest, "it was never a condition that I join you."

Gil laughed, and the rumbling in his chest sealed Thena even closer to him. She found it comforting to listen to the many sounds of his being alive. He drew his knees up, pulling her knees with one of them and settling her between his legs. "I thought it was a given that I wouldn't be leaving you."

"Not even for your beloved kitchen?" Thena let out a velvety laugh in return, slithering up to kiss him again.

"Nah," Gil breathed between lazy, languid kisses, passing between them like trees swaying together in the same breeze. "Let them starve."

"My poor family," Thena practically giggled, only encouraging Gilgamesh to kiss her more. "They will never forgive me."

"Don't care," Gil whispered against her lips. He rolled them again, so her back could absorb the sunrise and he could admire her glow. The sun was the only other entity allowed to kiss his Thena. "They want you, they have to get through me."

Thena gazed at him, all of her softness built up in her eyes. Her hand raised to his cheek, just as effective an affection as every touch of her lips to his. "Then I can know some peace."

Gilgamesh turned his head into her hand, kissing her palm. Her hand became heavy on his cheek as she sank into the pillow, of which he had given her the majority. He knew the sun's warmth would lure her back into sleep. She was like the many lizards scattered around this desert home of theirs. "I'll be right here."

Thena let out a last, soft purr as she let her eyes slip closed again. She let her hand slide from his cheek to lie limp over his side. It was merely a position in which she could sneak in a little extra rest, but it said what she wanted it to.

Gilgamesh acquiesced, of course. The hand just barely hooked over him was asking him to stay--to move closer again. He granted her wish, as he always did, and always would. He scooched closer to her, unminding of the sheets hopelessly tangled around their bodies, or the morning breeze travelling over his bare arms. He wrapped them around Thena, because if she was warm enough, then his own comfort would follow.

She buried her face in his chest, promising she was happy. And it was with that, that Gilgamesh could also fall back asleep, chasing her even into the bliss of real rest.

[autistichalsin]

If you're curious, this is what Halsin's letter says in the epilogue if you fail to break the Shadow Curse:

My friend, I was truly heartened to learn of your success in the fight against the Absolute- the whole of the Sword Coast and beyond owes you a debt that can never be repaid. I dearly wish I could have joined in your moment of celebration, but the Shadow Curse remains, and so my vigil must continue. Perhaps I shall yet discover a way to restore light to this place, but until then, the memories of my time traveling with you shall sustain me through all manner of hardships. If the Oak Father is kind, one day I shall feel the warmth of the sun and know the joys of your company once again. Yours until the end, Halsin

So... there is a LOT going on here. A lot. One, obviously, the heartbreak of Halsin resigning himself this way. "If the Oak Father is kind," he'll feel the warmth of the sun again?

The way he sees the player's company as something he longs for just as much as the sun. While confining himself to darkness and despair, what he longs for most- even more than nature itself- is sunlight and the player.

Which brings me to... you can feel the pining here. This letter was what finally cemented it for me: Halsin is, canonically, in all "good runs", in love with the player. Not "holds a lot of affection for the player that may or may not become romantic" like the others. This was what finally made me decide, beyond a doubt, he is ALWAYS in love with the player so long as they don't raid the Grove. This is just too much pining, too heavy of a romantic coding, too much he sees in the player, to be anything else.

He puts the player on par with sunlight. The thing he uses as a metaphor time and time again to explain as a basic need, something no life can live without. Something whose absence chokes the nature he loves so much into nothing. A need. That's what he considers the player.

And that's not even getting to "yours until the end," which is so obvious, I think it speaks for itself. With all the "I'm glad to be had"s and the "I am your servant, my love"s, Halsin is someone who- despite loving to be "unbound in nature"- considers a form of "being had" to be something of a love language. And here, knowing he will very possibly never see the player again unless a miracle happens or the player goes on a borderline suicide mission just to visit him, he still calls himself "yours". Even when he devotes himself to the land he couldn't heal, he still sees his heart as belonging with you, first and foremost.

And that's the happier explanation. The sadder explanation is that he's so tormented by the shadows and everything else that he's making up a fantasy in his head, of the player being his tragic, could-have-been love, just to cope. Just to convince himself there's something, someone, waiting for him should the curse ever be broken, so that he can imagine better is waiting for him, to give himself enough strength to endure the shadows for however long it takes, because the alternative is surrendering. And he can't let himself do that as long as he's needed. So, as he has done before, like when he convinced himself he liked being a sex slave to survive being a prisoner in the Underdark, he indulges in fantasy to survive- but instead of enslavement, it's solitary confinement.

Both are HEARTBREAKING options, in a scenario that was already beyond heartbreaking just before the epilogue.

[ecoamerica]

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[ironmandeficiency]

the hobbit + hozier songs

characters included: kíli, bilbo, dwalin, thorin, nori, bofur, ori, fíli, dori, tauriel

word count: 1166

a/n: the amazing and precious @wordbunch inspired me to write these bc of her lotr/th characters as taylor swift songs posts & i couldn't be more excited to finally post this labor of love!! thank you bestie for listening to me scream abt this for nearly two months lol

kíli: foreigner’s god

he loves outside of his race and this fact causes undue scorn to be thrown at his feet. it’s unheard of for almost any dwarf, let alone one from the line of durin, to do such a thing. this does not deter him - it empowers him; if his heart could go against the traditions forged into his bones, molten in his hot blood, how could it not be true? the strength of his love is what helps him ignore the doubts shouted by the prejudice plaguing those who know nothing of his heart. that, and the sound of your laughter at his antics, the soft smiles only given to him when he’s being a little too charming… he could go on.

bilbo: like real people do

as much flack as bilbo gets from the company for not being conventionally tough, he’s not weak by any means. he’s familiar with the pain of loss, and how the ways one tries to rise above the grief that follows aren’t always savory. he knows there’s a respect to be found in the absence of prying questions, choosing simply to coexist in the feelings and allow answers to come in their own sweet time. he’ll put some tea on to cook and scrounge up some leftovers from the previous meal, sitting beside you and letting the comfort flow naturally, his soft lips soothing the most tender aches.

dwalin: work song

just looking at him, you wouldn’t think dwalin a sap. but with his insanely strong sense of loyalty and stalwart dedication, he can’t be anything but. he’s faced down innumerable evils in his time, braved the fiercest of storms that many of his comrades didn’t; none of them even come close to keeping him from you. your arms welcome him home without question after each fight he braves, and your letters tucked into secret compartments in his armor keep him warm between embraces. he’ll read them by the fire every night when he’s away, every gentle word carrying his mind away from thoughts of the day’s turmoil.

thorin: sedated

this sweet, sad man doesn’t think he deserves good things in life. this, unfortunately, includes having someone love him despite his flaws and past mistakes. he couldn’t resist admitting his feelings for you and was ridiculously shocked that you reciprocated & allowed him to love you. on nights when he feels his failures deeper, he’ll try to convince you that he doesn’t deserve you. vitriol will escape from worried lips and terrified heart, piercing you in the way only a lover knows how. a soft kiss, gentle words, and a few strokes through his hair will soothe these wounds from him for a time and allow him some of the peace he’s fought to find, but doesn’t always believe is earned.

nori: it will come back

it was decades since the last time nori thought of love, even longer since he believed himself worthy of it. meeting you only solidified his disbelief; how could someone look at him and see someone that deserved such a pure thing, after everything he’s done in his life? he’s stolen, lied, cheated, and killed to survive (and sometimes not for mere survival). his attempts to spurn you away from him only increased your determination to break through the fortress he built around himself. he could only be strong against your advances for so long before he crumbled, reluctantly accepting the love and peace and safety you offered so freely.

bofur: nobody

bofur’s done a lot in his time. he was born in the blue mountains, a colony that never seemed to find the prosperity needed to do more than simply survive. he is a brother, uncle, cousin, friend, toymaker, miner, member of the great company that reclaimed erebor. but through all his adventures and hardships, he never lost his playful streak. he wants to have fun with who he loves, wants a little bit of mischief to make his laugh louder and brighter. bofur is a fun-loving soul who, despite his wandering past, will always choose you over anywhere that you’re not.

ori: francesca

ori’s life has never been a peaceful one. being raised by dori and being followed by the whispers of his late amad’s reputation (not to mention nori’s) without a mountain to call home, it weighed on his shoulders. even his craft, the pride of every dwarrow worth their beard, happened to be one seen as miniscule in importance compared to smithing. every moment spent with his one, doing anything or nothing at all, eases the burden he carries and makes every moment of strife worth it just to be with the soul made to mirror his.

fíli: i, carrion (icarian)

your love for him seems almost too good to be true, the remnants of stories told in dusty tomes written by those with far more eloquence than he can claim to possess. that being said, he is definitely not one to look a gift boar in the mouth. he relishes in each tender moment, every second spent in your presence that carries him far beyond the constraints life has placed upon him. but he recognizes that life isn’t always so simple, retreating into your arms and wishing that everything around you both just disappears. there’s always reality, waiting patiently outside of your chambers for one faulty misstep to throw you both askew. that’s why he dedicates himself to showing you that if life does what it does best and deals harsh blows, he will be there for you through it all.

dori: shrike

dori never had time for love; he had two brothers to protect, one more wily than the other was young. his focus was on getting his brothers through the days, putting food on their plates and the semi-frequently used stash of bail money well-stocked. he allowed his feelings for his one to fall to the wayside in the name of preservation. he ignored their call for decades and braved out the pain that came with such a silence. he begged for his one’s forgiveness every time they called for him. but once the mountain was reclaimed and his brothers safe, he yearned for what he could have had. he would approach his one with much regret and sorrow for the time lost, but a pure hope that they could find forgiveness in their heart for him.

tauriel: unknown/nth

to earn her love is a feat unlike that which the world has known for a long time. being seen as worth all these mortal struggles and painful toils in the eyes of an elf, let alone one as fierce as tauriel, is quite the achievement to anyone outside looking in. to the red-haired warrior in question, though, giving her love to you has the same unthinking ease as breathing; it’s beyond instinct to do and just as necessary to her survival. you’re worth every century spent alone, every moment after knowing you spent away from you.

[jackiepackiee]

What if, hear me out, Chuuya wasn't left to suffer alone after Dazai left the PM? What if he had someone that would really be there when he went to hardships/silent breakdowns.

Chuuya xmale!reader (patiënt reader)

𝒞𝒽𝓊𝓊𝓎𝒶 𝓍 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝒜𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒟𝒶𝓏𝒶𝒾 𝐿𝑒𝒻𝓉

It’s gn reader, I don’t do male

Life without Osamu Dazai in the port mafia was different

Not better, but not necessarily worse

Less people died, Mori became self sufficient without the prodigy

But Chuuya felt strange

Even if feeling the same as the general consensus of his absence

He wasn’t better or worse because he felt nothing

Then there’s you

Patient with him, understanding

Throughout every stage

Denial

Chuuya Nakahara was fucked

And so was the port mafia is any larger than life issue happened to come by

He could no longer use corruption safely, not without dying

So when the moment comes when a mission requires that sort of strength, only you can save his life

“I have to! You don’t understand, half our god damn organization will die if I don’t!”

Quick words shot from his mouth to your ears, aimed for you. His gloves being removed from his hands will he glared at you. Why were you so stubborn?

“No Chuuya! You’re going to die! You’re going to die and leave me all alone. What if it happens again? What if you can’t save me?”

That was plain cruel, using yourself to convince him. Making a hypothetical of you in pain, but it was necessary. He wouldn’t listen otherwise.

“Fuck… Fuck! Alright, fine!”

Anger

Why would the one person in this world who felt similar to him leave? Get taken away

One who didn’t feel human

He never blamed Dazai, no

He knew it was for the better, he needed help

But your empathy could only go so far

Verlaine didn’t count, because they weren’t close

You didn’t count because you were fully and wonderfully human in his eyes

But Dazai, he was off the same vine of pain

A creature other than

“Chuuya? Hey, I just wanted to check up on you”

His apartment was the place you knew he’d be in not at work. No more late night motorcycle rides or wine galleries. He let you in, of course he did.

“Well, I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to-”

He cut you off.

“I’m. Fine.”

“Chuu, this place is a mess. You’re clearly needing help.”

He didn’t even look at you. Still glued to the glass infront of him, sloshing his wine.

“Do you ever just mind your own business?! I mean fuck! You come into my place, and judge me? I’m sorry I’m not perfect enough for your bullshit standards.”

He was being short with you, uncharacteristically so. Usually this rudeness was reserved for particularly stressful days, in which he’d apologize for after. But for now it’s best not to push.

“…I brought you some chocolate covered strawberries?”

Your meek voice caught his true attention. More than that, the kindness of it. The kindness in you. And guilt ran through like a damn train.

Every little thing was seemingly ticking him off, but you weren’t “every little thing.” No, you deserved better.

He walked over to you, took the container of sweets you offered into his hands, and stared.

Why would someone ever be so kind?

He ate one, wincing at the taste of love you had put in. Pain on his tongue from the unfamiliar feeling of care.

“…I’m sorry, thank you.”

Only you could calm that storm of anger now, and calm the storm you did.

Bargaining

Chuuya’s office was soundproof just like every other room in the headquarters

Locked only on certain occasions

But you knew today was nothing special, and he hadn’t answered to your insistence knocking

So with your key, that he gifted you, you entered his office

To find this

Chuuya was looking through every phone number in the most recent phone record kept by the port mafia.

All across Yokohama, he called every one without a name attached.

“What are you doing?”

He snapped out of it, and stared at you. Confused and a bit hazed after such a long time of silence.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing is nothing, this is psychotic.”

You could tell what he was doing, of course you could. You knew him well.

“What?”

He was no longer snappy as he usually would be with one of your insults, but struck. He knew you meant it this time.

“He isn’t come back, Chuuya. He left, for himself. He didn’t leave because you or I, he left because he needed to. You know that, don’t be a fool.”

Your stern attitude scared him straight, and he stood up. Then walking over to you before giving you a hug.

He seemed so desperate for a reason. You gave him that, and he was grateful.

Depression

Late nights sometimes meant sharing a bed

Staying over each others places after a mission if it was closer

So him turning up at 2am was not shocking

But that fact he looked so down was

His eyes looked dead, and his body trembled. He held nothing, not even a wallet or phone.

Just standing at your door, looking abandoned.

So you ushered him to your bed, and let him settle. You never questioned his moods, but were always there. Petting his hair, in silence.

The silence he needed, only from you.

Acceptance

A glass of wine always represented a victory for Chuuya. A celebration of something. This something though was confusing him.

But if you bring him a vintage bottle and say congratulations, he won’t complain.

Half drunk, bottle half gone, night half over. That’s when your conversations always got the deepest.

“Say, why’d you bring this bottle over anyways?”

“To say congrats, duh!”

You laughed, and smiled at him teasingly.

“No no, I mean seriously. What for?”

“For grieving.”

He stopped. Noticing his expression, you continued.

“You got over Dazai, believe it or not. Even if you’ve been a real bitch about it.”

You giggled, drunk. But a certainty clarity reached your mind. And you looked at him happily, with content.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve been terrible”

“Shh, don’t apologize.”

But you let him, he needed to speak.

“I don’t understand why I’ve been so damn wild. He’s a dick, but he’s my ex partner.”

“Because maybe the world didn’t end when Dazai left, it just kept spinning.”

Not proofread

[leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesworld]

CALM AFTER THE STORM |BTS OT7 X READER| HYBRID AU (M)

{Chapter Seven – Feelings Of Content}

Pairing: OT7 BTS!HYBRID X FEM!HUMAN READER

Kim Namjoon: Black Mackenzie Valley Alpha wolf

Kim Soekjin: White Alpha Lion

Min Yoongi: White Alpha Jaguar

Jung Hosoek: Alpha Snow Leopard

Park Jimin : Alpha Albino Cobra

Kim Taehyung: Alpha White/ Bleached Tiger

Jeon Jungkook: Alpha Black Panther

Reader: Heaven Valentino Human

Status: Ongoing

RATED (M) FOR MATURE

words: 3.7k!

WARNING: EVENTUAL SMUT, BLOOD GORE, DETAILED GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION, ABUSE (ALL FORMS), PROFANITY, VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF SUICIDE, CHARACTER DEATH(MINOR), SADOMASOCHISM ACTS, MENTIONS OF BDSM, ETC...

CHAPTER WARNING: No warning just fluff, enjoy!

Previous Next

MATERIALIST

Heaven's POV

As I walked hand in hand with Taehyung towards Jungkook's room, my heart swelled with happiness. I missed my boys so much while I was away. It felt like a lifetime had passed since I had seen their faces.

My boys? Hmm, it has a nice ring to it. The bond we shared was still in the making but I felt a deep pull towards them, it felt so right.

Despite the affection I felt for them, there were certain aspects of my life that I couldn't share with them. The dangerous and dark world I navigated through was something I wanted to shield them from at all costs. That's why I had taken it upon myself to train them so that they could defend themselves if the need ever arose. I couldn't bear the thought of them getting hurt or dragged into the shadows that haunted my existence.

They had already been through so much, faced numerous obstacles that tested their courage and resilience. I vowed to protect them from any further harm, to be their pillar of strength and support no matter what challenges lay ahead.

As Taehyung animatedly filled me in on all the things the guys had been up to in my absence, a warm feeling of contentment settled in my chest. Knowing that they were safe and happy brought me immense relief. To see them thriving and enjoying life without any restrictions or limitations filled me with pride and joy.

“— And Jungkook has been hooked ever since,” Taehyung concluded, talking about Jungkook's newfound obsession with gaming.

The thought of Jungkook engrossed in something he loved brought a smile to my face. It was moments like these that made all the hardships worth it.

When we finally reached Jungkook's room and I made a move to open the door, I was caught off guard as it swung open before I could even touch the handle. A blur of motion and a strong pair of arms enveloped me, pulling me into a tight hug.

“Noona, I missed you so much, don't ever leave me again,” Jungkook's voice was a mix of longing and playfulness as he squeezed me against his chest. His affectionate gesture warmed my heart.

“Aw, I'll never leave you, baby,” I reassured him, returning his hug with equal fervor. Just being in his presence made me feel whole and at peace.

Jungkook tugged me into his room, shutting the door behind us to block out Taehyung's protests. As he pulled me further into his personal space, I raised an eyebrow in silent question, only to be met with his guilty pout.

“I want to spend time with Noona, you can have her later,” Jungkook said to Taehyung, his voice tinged with a hint of mischief and affection. I chuckled at his antics, knowing that underneath his tough exterior, he was still a lovable and caring individual.

I heard Taehyung grunt from the other side of the door, but he didn't push the issue further. Jungkook had a way of getting what he wanted with his adorable pouts and persuasive tactics. It was a talent that never failed to amuse me.

Jungkook's  POV

As Taehyung left the two of us alone in the room, I guided her to sit on my bed and settled myself comfortably on the floor, resting my head in her lap. A wave of relaxation washed over me as she placed her hands on my head, gently running her fingers through my hair.

I closed my eyes, savoring the moment of pure bliss. She started humming a soft, soothing tune while continuing to play with my hair, almost hypnotizing me into a state of tranquility. Her touch was gentle yet comforting, and I felt a sense of peace wash over me.

“Jungkook, why do you and Jimin call me Noona? From what I read in the files, you guys are older than me,” she asked, a hint of confusion in her voice. I could sense that she was genuinely curious about our choice of address.

I smiled up at her, taking in the sweet scent that always seemed to surround her whenever we called her Noona.

"Because you're like a Noona to us. You're strong, brave, and caring. Ever since the day you brought me and my Hyungs into your life, I could see that fiery passion in you. It just feels right to call you Noona," I explained, my voice filled with affection.

Her fragrance, a delightful mix of lavender and baby powder, enveloped me in a sense of contentment. I inhaled deeply, reveling in the familiar scent that always made me feel at home. Knowing that I was the reason behind her happiness only added to my own.

“Kook, you're such a sweetheart, you know that?” she remarked, her smile warm and genuine.

I couldn't help but grin back at her. "I know," I replied playfully, drawing a chuckle from her. The sound was music to my ears, a reminder of the bond that was steadily growing between us.

Despite knowing her for a relatively short time, she had already managed to bring a sense of peace and acceptance to our little group. As hybrids, trust didn't come easily, especially given our past experiences with humans. However, Heaven – Noona, as we affectionately called her – was different. She exuded kindness, warmth, and a genuine care that set her apart from anyone we had encountered before.

It was evident that I, Jimin, Hosoek and Taehyung weren't the only ones drawn to her. The other members of our pack, though initially wary, had also begun to let down their guard in her presence. She had a way of making us feel valued and accepted, despite the prejudices we had faced due to our hybrid nature.

I closed my eyes again, letting the rhythmic motions of her fingers through my hair lull me into a state of peaceful bliss. In that moment, surrounded by her comforting presence, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for her existence in our lives.

We bask in the serene tranquility, cocooned in a bubble of time where seconds feel like eternity, while her gentle fingers explore the strands of my hair, eliciting a chorus of contented purrs from deep within me. The minutes slip by imperceptibly until she shatters the peace with her soft voice.

“We'll be leaving this place, and I'll be taking you and the guys home,” she announces, her words laced with a sense of belonging that tugs at my heartstrings.

The word 'home' reverberates within me, stirring up a maelstrom of emotions. It's a word I've long forgotten, a concept that feels foreign yet strangely alluring when she includes us in it.

Tears cascade down my cheeks unchecked, catching me off guard until her tender touch on my face brings me back to reality.

“Sweetheart, what's the matter?” Her concern only intensifies my torrent of tears, and she enfolds me in a warm embrace, anchoring me to the present.

Clutching onto her like a lifeline, I release a floodgate of emotions that have been bottled up inside me for years, a deluge of unspoken longing and aching vulnerability.

The love I feel from her is a stark contrast to the protection and care my brothers have showered upon me as the youngest sibling. Despite my physical stature, I am forever the baby brother in their eyes, shielded from the harsh realities of the world.

Countless times, I've been summoned to satisfy the desires of others, yet my brothers have shielded me from the darker aspects of that world, insulating me from its horrors to preserve what little innocence remains in me.

I cherish them for their sacrifices, for the sacrifices they've made to shield me from the brutalities of life. I would willingly lay down my life to shield them from the darkness that threatens to engulf us all.

But now, a new person had entered my life, someone who had quickly become an essential part of it. Heaven. The mere thought of her brought a surge of emotions, a primal need to shield her from any potential harm that might come her way.

As I gazed into her eyes, a sense of protectiveness enveloped me like a cloak. I could feel my hybrid instincts clawing to the surface, urging me to keep her safe at all costs. It was a peculiar sensation, one that I had never experienced before, yet I welcomed it with open arms.

The overwhelming desire to safeguard her, to shield her from any danger that might lurk in the shadows, consumed me. It was as if a voice deep within me, primal and raw, whispered fiercely - "Protect what's mine." And in that moment, I knew without a shred of doubt that Heaven was mine to protect.

My eyes blazed with an intensity that startled even me. A fierce determination welled up inside me, igniting a burning need to stand guard between Heaven and any potential threat that dared to come near her. It was a feeling of territoriality and possessiveness, uncharted territory for me, but one that felt undeniably right.

And so, without hesitation, I made her a solemn promise.

“I will protect you, no matter the cost. Even if it means sacrificing myself in the process, I would do so gladly, knowing that I could keep you safe." My voice rumbled, thick with emotion, the words spilling out as a vow not just to her, but to myself as well.

As Heaven gazed back at me, her eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude, trust, and perhaps a hint of vulnerability, I knew that this newfound sense of protectiveness was not just a duty, but a privilege. To have someone to care for, to watch over, to love unconditionally - it was a responsibility I accepted with wholehearted dedication.

~Valentino Mansion~

3rd Person POV

~A Few Hours later~

The boys found themselves in awe as they drove past the grand gates of Heaven's mansion. They couldn't help but stare in wonder at the magnificent sight that was going to be their new home. It all seemed so surreal, like a dream they never wanted to wake up from.

As the car pulled up to the front of the house, they all stepped out, eagerly making their way inside the expansive mansion. Heaven, beaming with excitement, welcomed them with open arms.

“Welcome home, boys!” she squealed happily, her eyes shining with joy.

The boys were speechless, their hearts overflowing with gratitude and happiness. Jimin took the lead, followed by Jin, as they all surrounded Heaven, enveloping her in a tight, protective hug. She was their sanctuary, their comfort, the one who brought light and warmth into their lives.

Just then, a man entered the room, his presence commanding attention. He was strikingly handsome, with neatly groomed black hair and piercing hazel eyes that seemed to see right through them. Dressed in a sharp black suit, he exuded confidence and sophistication.

The hybrids, sensing a potential threat, instinctively formed a protective barrier around Heaven, their growls conveying a clear message of warning. The man, unruffled by their display, flashed a charming smile.

“Well, Heaven, it looks like you've found yourself quite the defence team. I can rest easy knowing you're in capable hands,” he remarked, his tone shifting from cool detachment to genuine warmth.

Heaven's laughter filled the room as she gently disengaged herself from the protective circle, running towards the man and embracing him tightly. The hybrids, though puzzled by the sudden change in atmosphere, maintained their guard, their loyalty unwavering.

With a soft sigh of contentment, Heaven planted a kiss on the man's cheek, eliciting a low growl from the hybrids, their possessiveness evident.

“Guys, I want you to meet someone very special to me, Andre Valentino, the eldest son of the Valentino family—my older brother,” she announced, causing the boys to gasp in surprise and quickly shift their focus. Suddenly, they appeared more like anxious puppies than fierce protectors.

Heaven's POV

"Hey everyone, it's so nice to finally meet all of you," Andre greeted the group with a big smile on his face. His enthusiasm was contagious, but I noticed that the boys seemed a bit hesitant and cautious. I totally understood where they were coming from. Building trust takes time, especially in a situation like this.

I decided not to push the boys to immediately trust Andre. They needed to learn for themselves who they could rely on and who they couldn't. It was all part of their training and growth process.

Namjoon, with a hint of confidence in his stride, stepped forward to greet Andre. The handshake between them was firm and friendly, and I could sense a real connection forming between them. It was clear that they would get along just fine.

As the initial tension melted away, the rest of the boys slowly approached Andre, exchanging introductions and pleasantries. It was a relief to see them starting to warm up to him and accept that he was a trustworthy companion.

"Alright, now that everyone has met, let me show you all to your rooms," I announced, leading the way towards the staircase. The boys followed closely behind, eager to settle into their new environment.

Andre gave us a wave as he headed off on his own, leaving us to continue with our introductions and settling in. The atmosphere was starting to feel more relaxed and welcoming, and I felt hopeful about the bonds that were beginning to form among us.

We finally made it to the fourth floor where my room and the rest of the boys' rooms were located. Jungkook couldn't contain his amazement when he saw the place, and his surprised expression made me chuckle.

As we stepped out of the elevator, Jungkook's eyes widened in awe, "Woah, Heaven Noona, your place is amazing!" he exclaimed.

"Our place, Kookie," I corrected him, giving him a warm smile. He blushed and looked away, his shyness contrasting with the fierce determination he had shown earlier. It was amusing to witness the duality of these boys, how they could switch from protective guardians to blushing messes in a matter of moments.

The space was not just mine but also theirs. I wanted them to feel at home and know that they didn't have to ask for anything because it was all theirs for the taking.

My room was at the far end in the middle, with the boys' rooms branching off to the left and right. I led them to the first room on the left, and their reactions brought tears to my eyes.

"How do you like this room?" I inquired, waiting for their response. Jin's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he spoke, "It's beautiful, Heaven, words can't describe how happy we are."

With a gleam of excitement, I revealed, "You're welcome because this is your room, Jin!" His disbelief was evident as he stammered, "W-what do you mean this entire room is mine? I'm not sharing with the other guys?"

I explained my intention, "Yes, you each have your own rooms. I know you guys enjoy being together, but I wanted to give you the option to have your personal space when needed. It's essential for your mental well-being to have that time for yourself occasionally." They all nodded in agreement, understanding the importance of self-care.

"Feel free to decorate the rooms as you like. They come with built-in bathrooms and a restocked mini kitchen daily. It's like having your own mini flat. Make the most of them, but remember not to drift apart from each other," I advised, emphasizing the significance of their bond.

Jin, overwhelmed with gratitude, managed to blurt out, "Thank you so much, Heaven. It's a bit soon, and I love you all, but please leave, I need some me time." With that, he ushered us out of his room and shut the door.

We couldn't help but burst into laughter at his abrupt dismissal, realizing how much he cherished the idea of having his own space. After showing the boys around the rest of the rooms, I left them to settle in and headed to my room for a long-awaited shower.

I stepped into the warm embrace of the shower, feeling the hot water cascade over my body like gentle waves, relieving the tension in my muscles. It had been a challenging week, but I knew every moment of it was worth it.

After my shower, I settled onto my bed, my mind already drifting to the task at hand - training them. It wasn't going to be a simple process. They were hybrids, each carrying different counterparts that played a crucial role in their development.

While general training methods could be effective, I knew that specific training tailored to their individual counterparts would be necessary. It meant I had to call upon my brothers and my uncle for assistance. In order for the training to be successful, they needed to trust me and my family.

To my surprise, the boys seemed to trust me quicker than I had anticipated. It was both reassuring and concerning, knowing that they were not inherently trusting individuals. They seemed to possess an instinct, a sixth sense, that guided them on who to trust and who to keep at arm's length. It was a trait that could prove to be a valuable asset for them in the future.

I was intrigued by the boys' innate abilities, as it gave them an edge in identifying friend from foe without the need for extensive background checks. I looked forward to helping them embrace their animal sides fully.

Their animalistic instincts had been suppressed for too long, and I knew that during training, there would be risks. They might struggle to control their instincts, leading to moments where they would need to tap into their animal selves. This could potentially unleash a feral side that risked them losing touch with their human nature.

It was a challenge I would tackle when the time was right. For now, my focus was on ensuring their well-being. Showering them with love and kindness, and making sure they were well-fed and content were the first steps towards building trust and establishing a strong foundation for their development.

Lost in my thoughts, I heard a knock on my bedroom door, snapping me out of my reverie.

“Come in!" I called out, wondering who it could be.

The door creaked open, and in walked Hoseok. He flashed me a smile and strolled over to the chair next to my bed.

“Hey,” he greeted me casually, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“What's up, hobi?” I asked, using his nickname.

He plopped down on the chair and rolled his eyes dramatically. “Nothing much, just trying to escape the chaos of the other guys. They're all busy fussing over their rooms, deciding on layouts and scenting every nook and cranny. Not my idea of a good time, you know?"

I chuckled at his exaggerated expression. “I get it. Well, you're always welcome to hang out with me.”

Hoseok's face lit up at the offer. “Really? That would be awesome. What are we gonna do then?”

I thought for a moment before suggesting, “How about we watch a movie together? I've got some good stuff lined up on Netflix.”

He nodded eagerly, adjusting his position on the chair. “Sounds perfect. Let's do it.”

As I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, I chuckled a little remembering his earlier statement.

"Hey, isn't scenting something like a hybrid thing you guys do?” I asked amused

Hoseok chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, it's a hybrid thing. We like to mark our territory, so to speak. Having our scent around makes us feel safe and connected to our humans. It's just a natural instinct for us.”

I couldn't help but smile at his explanation. “That's actually really interesting. I'm glad you guys feel at home here.”

He reached out and gently squeezed my hand, his eyes filled with gratitude. “Thanks for accepting us, it means a lot. You've created a place where we can truly belong.”

I felt a warm wave of affection towards him and lightly touched his cheek, feeling the softness of his skin beneath my fingers. Hoseok leaned into my touch, his gaze intense and filled with unspoken emotion.

In that moment, I realized how lucky I was to have him and the rest of the boys in my life.

I headed to my snack cabinet, ensuring it was stocked with all my favorite munchies. With everything in place, I settled into bed with a cozy throw blanket draping over us, snuggling against each other.

Hobi's eyes sparkled with curiosity as he dove into the world of technology. It was as if he was a toddler discovering new wonders, and his enthusiasm was just too adorable to resist. He bombarded me with countless questions, eager to soak up all the knowledge he had missed out on in his life.

We decided to watch a movie and ended up cuddled together, sharing laughs and tears as we got engrossed in different scenes. One movie led to another, and eventually, we found ourselves binge-watching a whole series.

I must have dozed off without realizing it because the next thing I knew, I was slowly waking up to the sensation of multiple bodies around me. As I fully opened my eyes, I saw the TV turned off and my bed occupied by seven grown men.

Despite the surprise, I felt an overwhelming sense of warmth and contentment. It was a rare moment of tranquility.

In that moment, surrounded by those I cared for, I experienced a sense of peace and belonging that I rarely found elsewhere only around my family. It was in those simple moments of togetherness that I felt like a normal 23-year-old girl, just enjoying the company of my boys.

Those moments made me feel complete, as if all the pieces of my scattered self had finally come together. The feeling of contentment washed over me, enveloping me in its comforting embrace. And in that serenity, I found solace and joy in the embrace of my makeshift family.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Heyyy beautiful people!

I'm so glad you enjoyed this Chapter. Writing this one was really special to me because, let's be real, the initial chapters were quite dark. It's been so refreshing to delve into a fluffier side of the story. It's like a breath of fresh air, you know? But hey, don't get too comfy just yet! We still have a long journey ahead before everything falls into place. Heaven and the boys are just getting started, and trust me, there are a lot of surprises and twists waiting to unfold. 🤫🫣

Jungkook's character development is really starting to shine through. I can see him slowly breaking free from his conditioning, revealing his true self. And let's not forget about Jimin, Taehyung, and Yoongi — they're also on their way to embracing their predator hybrid sides. It won't be long before they all fully transform into the powerful beings they were meant to be. 😁🤭

Oh, and can we take a moment to appreciate Hobi's adorable and dramatic personality? He may seem all sunshine and rainbows on the surface, but trust me, there's more to him than meets the eye. Don't let that pretty face and sweet voice fool you! 😏🥴

I'm beyond excited for you all to witness the growth of the hybrids as the story progresses. It's all just brewing under the surface, waiting for the right moment to burst forth. So hang in there, folks! There's so much more excitement to come. 😆

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading and supporting me. Your votes and comments mean everything to me and keep me inspired to keep writing. You all are the best!

Sending you all my love as your favorite AUTHOR-NIM. 😗🥰 I promise to do my best to update sooner, so stay tuned for more developments.

Borahae! 💜

TAGLIST OPEN!

TAGLIST: @strxwbloody, @strawblueberrys, @taetaeheart22, @canarystwin, @drenix004, @ghostlyworld, @loumin908, @rinkud, @nikkiordonez12 @taekritimin123, @mnguyeeen7(for some reason, I can't tag you because your account is not popping up)

[prythianpages]

ACOSM | The Night she made Azriel dance

azriel x rhysand's sister (oc)

warnings: angst/fluff? some suggestive content but nothing beyond a heated kiss

summary: The Court of Nightmares is celebrating Rhysand's accomplishment of enduring the blood rite. Valeria pulls Azriel for a dance and their unspoken feelings for each other begin to catch the attention of others.

A/N: this is an imagine among my collection of imagines that follow Rhysand's sister, Valeria. while I'm still working on them, you can find the masterlist for it here. You might be able to read it as a stand alone imagine.

**

The Court of Nightmares, known for its dark allure and fierce celebrations, was adorned with opulence and mystery on this particular night. Silver sconces flickered with ethereal flames, casting long shadows across the grand ballroom. 

At the heart of the grand chamber, a colossal crystal chandelier bathed the dance floor in a cascade of soft, enchanting light. The luminous crystals sparkled like stars, reflecting in the eyes of those gathered beneath. The tapestries, hung with pride and history, depicted battles, bloodshed, and triumphs of the fierce Illyrian warriors.

Tonight, the Court of Nightmares celebrated not only a warrior's coming of age, but the bonds forged through battles and hardships. The High Lord of the Night Court stood at the center of it all. Rhysand, his son and heir, stood to his right. He was dressed in obsidian finery delicately crafted by his mother, radiating charisma and strength. 

Valeria stood alongside her mother at the bottom of the stairs that led to their throne, her gaze avoiding her father at all costs…even as Rhysand kneeled before their father in acceptance of the new crown the High Lord held in his hands. She waited until the crowd that had gathered erupted into cheers, joining the High Lord in celebrating Rhysand, to leave her mother’s side. She needed a drink.

As the musicians began to play a haunting melody, she made her way to the wine table. She wasn’t surprised to find Mor already there and under the influence. She wore an elegant black ball gown instead of her usual shades of red. Her brown eyes that were once full of life were dull and distant. She was still in mourning, joining Valeria in her lament for Mallory.

 Valeria had given her the jewelry box as soon as she had read Mallory’s letter. Upon her arrival to the Court of Nightmares, she had even stopped by Mor’s residence a couple of times to check up on her. She was turned down every time. She had even shut Rhysand completely out, not allowing either of the siblings in. She had chosen to mourn alone.

With a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, she poured a glass for Valeria.

**

Azriel and Cassian stepped into the grand ballroom with an air of ethereal elegance, their large mesmerizing wings unfurled behind them. The two Illyrians, known for their rugged warrior appearance, had traded their customary leathers for a sleek ensemble befitting the grand occasion. They were both clad in tailored black suits that emphasized the lithe strength of their bodies. Despite their fitting attire, they felt strangely out of place.

Azriel, partly concealed in his shadows, had an aura of quiet intensity. His eyes searched the room for a certain winged female. His shadows mirrored his request, sharing his determination. He was met with the same inexplicable magnetic pull that had seized him upon his return from the blood rite.  Following that irresistible thread, his gaze swiftly alighted upon the raven-haired woman, who unknowingly, held the golden thread that beckoned Azriel closer. 

The first thing that struck Azriel was the absence of her wings. He gulped as his eyes raked over her frame.

She appeared as a vision of timeless beauty in a simple yet enchanting long ivory silk gown–a creation no doubt crafted by her mother’s loving and talented hands. The bodice featured a delicate corset adorned with fine lace–lace that appeared to be spun from moonlight itself. Her long, raven hair tumbled down her back in loose curls that framed her face in a cascade of dark silk. At her throat, she still wore the moonstone necklace gifted to her by Azriel, the delicate gemstone shimmering with an otherworldly glow.

Her violet eyes held a depth and intensity that continued to draw Azriel in as they met his hazel ones. Her brows rose slightly and he swore he saw the light return to her eyes for a brief flickering moment. In a blink of an eye, she was rushing toward him.

“Azriel,” she breathed, her voice laced with relief as she threw her arms around his taller, broader frame. She nestled her head against his chest as his shadows also enveloped her in their embrace.

“Valeria.” He replied, matching her tone of relief as he held her tightly, the tension of their separation melting away in that single moment.

“Cassian!”

Valeria pulled away from Azriel sheepishly, still flushed with the emotions of their reunion. She turned to the Illyrian male beside him, who had called out his own name and waited for her with expectant open arms. She didn’t hesitate to move into Cassian’s brotherly embrace and he chuckled with delight.

 “I think you’ve gotten stronger, my little warrior.” He remarked, his grin growing broader.

“There’s nothing to do here.” Valeria replied as she pulled away from Cassian.

She didn’t consciously register it. It was almost instinctive the way her steps drew her closer to Azriel, her body unconsciously seeking to be close to him. Azriel’s body did the same, their fingers brushing against each other lightly.

Cassian couldn’t help but notice the subtle, unspoken connection between them. He wondered if he should say something.

“No one to annoy, unfortunately.” Valeria added, pulling Cassian from his thoughts. She then looked at Azriel, her eyes scanning his shoulders. “Where is–”

“Noctis is resting in your room.” Azriel answered before Valeria could finish. “We thought it would be too chaotic here for him.”--He saw the concern in her eyes at the thought of her bird being left alone.--”I left some of my shadows to keep him company.”

“Thank you.” Valeria breathed a sigh of relief, expressing her gratitude. She made sure to look at both Azriel and Cassian, knowing that they along with her brother–who she already thanked earlier–carefully nursed her beloved bird back to health.

“The house is awfully quiet without you there.” Cassian commented with a small frown.

Rhysand’s voice suddenly emerged from behind. “I never thought I’d be the one to say this but I miss you and that damn bird keeping me up at night with your piano...and those awful chirps of his.” 

Valeria rolled her eyes, turning around to face her brother to make sure he caught the gesture. “His chirps aren’t awful. They’re lovely.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Rhysand chuckled, his eyes looking amongst their group. “Where’s Mor?”

Valeria’s eyes widened as she realized that her cousin had not followed her and chose to remain at the wine table instead. Her heart ached for her. 

Cassian sighed. “I’ll go get her.”

Azriel seated himself at the empty table nearby. Rhysand and Valeria followed after him with the latter taking the empty chair beside him. A wave of magic filled the air, and suddenly, a sumptuous array of food materialized at the center of the table. Empty plates appeared before them, ready to be filled. Azriel was the first to fill his plate with a tempting assortment of delicious food but instead of indulging in it himself, he extended the plate to Valeria. 

“Here,” He urged her, his voice gentle, as he offered her the plate. “You need to eat.”

“It’s been hard to find an appetite these days.” Valeria replied honestly, accepting the plate from him with a small thanks. She found an immense guilt to do anything as she mourned the loss of her friend. She didn’t think anyone had noticed but Azriel had. It was subtle but he noticed her thinner frame and the slightly sunken appearance of her cheeks.

Rhysand’s gaze remained fixed on the two, his violet eyes narrowing as he watched their interactions. Gratitude welled within him for Azriel’s vigilant care for his sister yet a flicker of suspicion ignited in his mind. He wondered if Azriel’s watchful care held a depth of meaning beyond mere brotherly intention…

Rhysand’s gaze abruptly tore from the two upon the arrival of Cassian and Mor at their table. Mor stumbled into her seat, across from him, with Cassian’s careful support. 

“Oh, this food looks ravishing,” she slurred as she stole a piece of bread from Azriel’s plate.

Azriel, amused by her antics, didn’t seem to mind.However, when Cassian reached over to steal the potatoes from his plate, Azriel promptly moved his plate out of Cassian’s reach, fixing him with a glare. There was humor dancing in his eyes. 

“Congrats, bat boys.” Mor grinned, referring to their accomplishment in the blood rite. She hadn’t seen them since Valeria’s birthday.  

“Bat boys?” Azriel questioned, his brows furrowing in slight confusion while Valeria’s amused reaction almost led her to choking on her food. Her laughter bubbled forth, finding their surprised and bewildered expressions highly entertaining. Mor looked at Valeria and joined in.

“Bat boys,” Rhysand echoed, a smile playing on his lips as he swirled the wine in his glass. “I can’t say I hate it.”

The three men shared a knowing look, finding relief and joy in the sound of Valeria’s and Mor’s laughter. A sound they had feared they wouldn't hear again. The five of them continued to enjoy their dinner, engrossed in light conversation and reflecting on their memories together.

When the music began to pick up and people took to the dance floor of the grand ballroom, Rhysand noticed Valeria’s eyes light up. He knew how much she enjoyed dancing as he was often forced to be her dancing partner when they were children. Determined to keep the his sister in bright spirits, he extended his free hand to her.

Valeria hesitated for a moment and a frown fell over her face as a wave of guilt hit her then. Guilt for daring to feel joy when Mallory was robbed of any more experiences. Warmth and reassurance suddenly filled her in that moment, the same strange way it did after her nightmares would wake her, washing away her guilt. It’s okay, it seemed to say.

She accepted her brother’s offer and with a tender smile from Rhysand, they made their way to the dance floor. The people dancing seemed to part for them, allowing them to reach the center. Their presence was compelling and piercing and a cool mask was on both of their faces. Some stopped and stared, admiring the beauty of the son and daughter of the Night Court. 

Rhysand and Valeria began to move together, their steps fluid and graceful. He led with care, guiding Valeria through the steps. His own violet eyes held a promise of better days to come, and in that moment, Valeria felt a sense of hope return to her heart. The music swelled and Rhysand twirled Valeria with a flourish. She couldn’t help but smile again as the weight of her worries lifted.

“There she is,” Rhysand smiled back at her.

As the song came to an end, she curtsied at her brother in gratitude and when the orchestra began another song, her gaze landed on Azriel’s. He remained at the table, nursing a wine glass of his own. His piercing shadows had been watching her every move with a curious intensity as he pretended to be engaged in whatever Cassian was saying as the latter animatedly waved his hands.

Rhysand followed her gaze with an amused smile and then chuckled. “Az doesn’t dance. You’d have better luck with Cassian. Although, he might step on your toes.”

A mischievous glint danced in Valeria’s eyes as Azriel’s gaze lifted to meet hers across the room. It was as if he heard his name being called.

“He will for me."

With a playful spin, Rhysand sent her Azriel's way, and she glided toward him. Azriel recognized the mischievous glint in her eye immediately, already having an excuse ready for her. A lame one at that.

“I can’t dance.”

Valeria's eyes sparkled with an impish charm. "Your shadows tell me that's a lie."

"You can hear them?" Azriel raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised.

His shadows, usually silent and obedient, seemed to have a mind of their own tonight. They coiled back, looking almost sheepish. Only when we want her to, they responded with unexpected sass.

“Sometimes.” Valeria shrugged nonchalantly, as if hearing his shadows was entirely ordinary. "Doesn't everyone?"

Azriel shook his head slowly. "No, not everyone."

"Oh."

His shadows brushed through her hair, their cool tendrils ghosting past her ear. "Well, right now they're telling me your mother actually taught you how to dance."

"Traitors," Azriel muttered grumpily at his defiant shadows, who dared to laugh in his ears, swirling playfully between Valeria and him.

Valeria, however, wasn't about to take no for an answer. With a touch of determination and a hint of playfulness, she intertwined her fingers with Azriel's, catching him off guard. His heart quickened, and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he couldn't resist her any longer.

Complying with her invitation, Azriel rose from his seat, his eyes locked with Valeria's. Together, they stepped onto the dance floor, swaying to the gentle melody of the music. In the midst of the crowd, they danced, their movements synchronized.

It was a dance of shadows and moonlight, and in each other's arms, they found a rare and beautiful harmony.

Rhysand once again found his gaze fixed on the two as his sister and one of his closest friends--someone he considered his brother-- danced as if they were the only two in the room. Beside him, Cassian and Mor also watched the pair.

Cassian noticed the thoughtful furrow in Rhysand’s brow. “Something on your mind, Rhys?”

Rhysand hesitated before replying. “It’s Valeria. She and Azriel…”

“Oh, Rhys, you’re just being an overbearing and overprotective brother.” Mor couldn’t help but chuckle. She looked at Cassian, inclining her head at him to agree.

“Yeah,” Cassian said with a nod of his head. “We all care for Val deeply. She’s like a little sister to me and I’m sure Azriel feels the same.”

But even Cassian began to doubt his words as he remembered their earlier reunion and it did nothing to dwell the concern in Rhysand. He continued to watch his sister and Azriel–a protective instinct tugging at his heart–before Mor pulled his attention away from the dance floor.

**

Valeria swayed gracefully on the dance floor, her white dress catching the light as Azriel spun her around, her laughter ringing through the air. Her violet eyes sparkled with a mixture of joy and something deeper, something unspoken.

As the dance continued, Azriel couldn't help but glance down at Valeria's lips for a fleeting moment. The magnetic pull between them was undeniable, and the world around them seemed to blur as they swayed to the music. It was as if the air was charged with a palpable tension, their hearts beating in unison.

But just as the moment became achingly sweet and full of promise, a striking, dark-haired woman appeared before Azriel, her eyes brimming with charisma. "Would you do me the honor of the next dance, Shadowsinger?" she purred, her voice as seductive as her gaze.

Azriel reluctantly pulled his gaze from Valeria to meet the woman’s. He looked back at Valeria. There was hesitation in his eyes, almost begging for Valeria to shake her head at him, to tell him no. Much to his disappointment, Valeria nodded at him and he reluctantly accepted the dark-haired woman's invitation.

As Valeria left Azriel's side, a sense of longing hung in the air–a dance interrupted and a moment deferred. She made her way back to the table with her brother and friends. She watched as Azriel and the woman began to dance with a mixture of curiosity and something she couldn’t quite name. 

Rhysand couldn't resist a teasing chuckle. "Look what you started.”

Valeria tried to hide her jealousy, but the sight of Azriel with another woman had her wrestling with her feelings. A small sigh escaped her lips. She couldn't blame him for being polite. She knew she had no reason to be jealous, but as a third female approached him for a dance, there was an unexpected vulnerability within her. 

The Court of Nightmares' ball raged on, a whirlwind of elegance and extravagance. Valeria, still nursing her feelings of jealousy and insecurity, decided it was time to slip away from the festivities, using Mor’s drunken state as an excuse. Rhysand, her older brother, seemed oblivious to her inner turmoil, chatting with a beautiful stranger. Cassian had left earlier, sneaking away to visit his girlfriend.

“I think it’s time for bed.” Valeria said, looking at Mor’s slumping form at the table.

Rhysand chuckled and nodded. He began to excuse himself from the female, who had sat herself next to him, but Valeria stopped him with a wave of her hand. “I can handle it. I’ll take Mor to my room,” Valeria assured him as she placed the blonde’s arm over her shoulders and carefully lifted her from her seat.

Rhysand nodded, engaging himself in conversation with the pretty stranger once more, and Valeria slipped out into the cool night with Mor in tow. As Valeria discreetly made her way to the exit, her heart heavy with unresolved emotions, Azriel’s shadows noticed her departure and informed him.

As soon as the song came to a stop, a couple of minutes later, he was quick to pull away from the dance, bowing slightly at the female before making his way to where he had seen Valeria disappear into. On his way, he passed by the table that now consisted of Rhysand and a beautiful female, who sat on his lap. 

“Az,” Rhysand called out to him, forcing him to come to a stop. There was a playful glint in his violet eyes while the female on top of him raked Azriel’s body over with hungry eyes. “Care to join us?”

Their scent of arousal hit Azriel. If things were different, he would’ve gladly accepted Rhysand’s offer. It wouldn’t be the first time they shared a woman. But despite the female’s beauty and Rhysand’s promise of an entertaining night, he couldn’t bring himself to say yes.

Instead, he shook his head. “I think I should also call it a night.”

“Suit yourself,” Rhysand replied with a shrug. He feigned nonchalance on the outside but on the inside, his suspicions from earlier resurfaced...

Azriel excused himself and left the ballroom, his true intention to find where Valeria had slipped away to. In the darkness of the night, Azriel's shadows flitted through the corridors of the grand estate, searching for her. It didn't take them long to find Valeria at the opposite end of the palace. 

She was in the moon gardens, amongst the terrace of blooming flowers and serenity. A handful of night-blooming jasmines and gardenias lay beside her. She held a gardenia in her hand, plucking the petals one-by-one deep in thought, as she nestled on the soft grass.

Valeria didn’t seem to notice his arrival.

Plucking a purple peony that matched her eyes from a flourishing bush, he silently settled beside her. “A flower for your thoughts?” 

The gardenia Valeria had been holding slipped from her fingers, landing atop its own ivory petals. She started, caught off guard by the sudden presence of the Shadowsinger. He reached out, brushing a loose curl of her hair away from her face and secured the purple peony behind one of her ears. His shadows swirled around him, enraptured by her beauty, each tendril whispering in hushed admiration.

“You left without saying goodbye.”

"I just need some fresh air.” Valeria brushed off his concern and without considering the meaning of her words, she added: “I didn’t think you’d notice. You seemed to be having an awfully good time with all those beautiful females.”

Azriel’s hazel eyes glinted with amusement, a knowing spark stirring the air between them. “Is this jealousy I sense?”

Valeria scoffed, heat rushing to her cheeks. “Me? Jealous?”

“You’re right, you have no reason to be jealous.” Azriel acknowledged, his voice a soothing murmur of understanding. His lips curled into a smirk as his fingers gently lifted Valeria’s chin, coaxing her to meet his gaze. Reluctantly, her eyes locked with his, and in that moment, a daring boldness took over. 

“I only have eyes for you.”

As Azriel's words hung in the air, the tension between them thickened.

Valeria's heart raced as his thumb brushed softly against her lower lip, his eyes following his movement in a tantalizing tease that sent shivers down her spine. Valeria found herself inching closer and Azriel did the same, his breath mingling with hers.

The world around them faded into insignificance as their faces drew nearer. 

His lips barely brushed hers, almost in a teasing manner, and he rejoiced in the way her eyelids fluttered close and lips parted in anticipation. She wanted this as much as he did. 

“I only want you,” he murmured against her lips before he claimed them in a tender, longing kiss.

Her lips were just as soft as he had imagined. Just as sweet as he imagined and he savored her taste, yearning for more.

Their lips separated for a brief moment as she adjusted herself and before she knew it, their lips were crashing against each other once again in a heated kiss. With the guidance of his hand at her waist, she found herself straddling his hips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and the slit in her dress ripped further up, exposing her thigh but she did not care. All she cared about was the sweet taste of his lips and intoxicating scent of night-chilled mist and cedar. 

Azriel’s hand that had lingered on her chin found itself intertwining into the base of her hair. He pulled on it, angling her closer to him. The hand at her waist traveled down to her thigh before his fingers began to lightly trace their way up the newly exposed skin. His tongue traced against her bottom lip and she allowed him in, a soft moan escaping from her as he explored her mouth with his tongue. He almost moaned at the sound. It sent a shiver throughout his body, fueling his insatiable urge to find out what other pretty sounds he can elicit from her pretty lips.

When they reluctantly pulled away to catch their breaths, their foreheads rested against each other. The garden around them seemed to hold its breath, as if nature itself recognized the significance of this moment and the stars above twinkled like diamonds.

Azriel’s pupils were dilated as he intently gazed down at her, admiration and a hint of lust in his hazel eyes. 

“Only you.” Valeria breathlessly echoed, the look in her eyes mirroring his. 

Azriel smiled, feeling his heart fill with such warmth that he thought he was about to explode. His shadows danced around them as he peppered her face with tender kisses. His nose brushed against hers and as the moonlight casted a soft glow on their faces, their lips met again.

**

A/N: after all the sadness and angst, I wanted to write something more romantic. Rhys and Cass are finally catching onto Az and Val and it seems like Rhys might not be too happy about that...

I hope the kissing scene was okay. I've never written anything beyond a simple kiss or suggestive content but I am willing to try for future imagines. It's just hard and kinda ironic for me to write romantic scenes since I fall under the aroace spectrum and lack the experience. yet I love reading all kinds of romance lol

tag list: @justrepostandlove , @kemillyfreitas, @thelov3lybookworm

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

[bestworstcase]

adjacent to your “sky is falling” thoughts - one line i think about frequently that feels very indicative of oz’s whole. deal. is in response to ruby’s “so all those times you talked about having faith in humanity? that was just for everyone else” where he says“that’s not what i meant to suggest.” regardless of being focused on the relic he doesn’t even try to make a case for his interest or belief in humanity’s value

its really so funny to me. the contrast between what ozpin has to say about humanity vs what salem thinks of mankind.

“humanity is a resilient force. […] there are indeed a misguided few who have filled their hearts with malice; it doesn't take a great number of people to cause harm, but i still believe there are far more people in this world willing to prevent it.”

versus

“man, born from dust, was strong, wise, and resourceful, but he was born into an unforgiving world. an inevitable darkness […] set their sights on man and all of his creations. these forces clashed, and it seemed the darkness was intent on returning man’s brief existence to the void… however, even the smallest spark of hope is enough to ignite change, and in time, man’s passion, resourcefulness, and ingenuity led them to the tools that would help even the odds. […] nature’s wrath in hand, man lit their way through the darkness, and in the shadow’s absence came strength, civilization, and most importantly, life.”

oz looks at remnant and sees a never-ending existential struggle just to endure against a “misguided few” who act with malice and cause great harm, even though most people try to be good.

salem looks at remnant and sees a hard, unforgiving world where humankind defied fate itself—the condemnation of the gods—to survive and flourish just by refusing to give up. even the smallest spark of hope is enough…

he sees resilience, the capacity to endure hardship. she sees strength, wisdom, passion, ingenuity, resourcefulness, the capacity to overcome hardship. oz believes that fear is the one universal experience, the fundament of all life; salem holds that it’s hope.

“that’s not what i meant to suggest” but it is what he meant, and there’s nothing else he can say that won’t ring hollow.

[impossiblescissorspeachpaper]

The Heart of a Wanderer III

Homecoming.

Read the previous part here.

2.3k words. Mild adult themes.

Elain decided she wanted nothing more than to spend the entire morning with her sisters, that same desire shared by Feyre and Nesta, obvious in the way they were barely able to leave her side. Their excitement at her return was palpable in every question they asked and every look of wonder they threw her way when she regaled their curiosities with her responses.

They wanted to know everything. Where she had been, who she had met, what she had learned. And she did her best to recount all the adventures of her travels to them. Feyre had pushed back all her meetings until after lunch and Nesta informed Cassian she would join the Valkyrie training after midday. Their mates happily obliged. It was obvious they had missed their sister.

Elain in turn had wanted to know about everything she had missed. Even though they had written to her often, she wanted it recounted in person. Elain asked about all of Nyx’s milestones, no matter how small or trivial they may have been. She wanted to hear about the progress Nesta had made with the Valkyries, how many more females she had recruited. She even asked about who had won the snowball fight last Solstice. To Rhys and Azriel’s chagrin, it had been Cassian again.

She asked Feyre how her gardens across the city had been faring and if the gardeners she had hired in her steed were doing an adequate job. She asked Nesta if her and Cassian had caused an avalanche across Velaris from their activities at the House of Wind. Nesta was not impressed with that particular line of enquiry, but Feyre had thrown her head back and laughed, agreeing she was unsure how the mountain had withstood their "enthusiasm".

Elain wanted to know everything. The only topic she prudently tiptoed around was one very specific one… That, she was sure, would be a discussion that would have to be had with Nuala and Cerridwen. Unfortunately. They wouldn’t let her skate around that topic for long.

But despite her warring thoughts about the male that continued to plague her mind, she still listened aptly to all the tales and chaos that had happened in her absence, and she couldn’t help but smile. She had almost forgotten just how much went on in Velaris and the Night Court.

Elain had always been her family’s balance. Their happy medium. The glue that had kept them together through all those years of hardship below the wall as well as their time in splendour. It was no different here in Velaris, and her absence the last fourteen months whilst she had been away had been felt very acutely. And apparently by all.

“We’re so happy you’re home, Elain,” Nesta lamented for the dozenth time since she’d returned early that morning, before her sister pinned her with a funny look. “I think Azriel is particularly happy to have you back, too.”

Elain’s breath halted delicately in her throat.

She glanced into her older sisters’ grey eyes, Nesta’s expression not giving away that she may know anything, surely testing the waters of whatever theory she had ticking away in that mind of hers. Nesta remained sitting stiffly beside her, her posture imperious and straight-backed. Elain raked her gaze down her form, noticed the regal way she carried herself. She was a warrior now. In some ways, Elain thought, she always had been. The only difference being that now, instead of spitting harsh words to tear down and maim, Nesta wielded her sword and strength.

Elain glanced back to Nyx who played at their side.

Wanting to take advantage of the last of the sunny weather before autumn truly gave way to winter, the sisters had laid out a large blanket in the gardens at the back of the river house. Elain sat sprawled out beside her nephew, sitting with her knees bent to the side, cups of tea and sugar biscuits and the last of the season’s plums scattered around them. She had changed out of her sodden pants, wearing one of the simple powder blue dresses she had left behind that remained perfectly preserved in her closet.

“I don’t see why he would,” she finally responded, trying in vain to keep the bite out of her voice.

“He was rather morose when you were away. Even for Az,” Feyre supplied, somewhat absent-mindedly. Feyre hadn’t glanced at her to note the slight tightening of her mouth, instead remaining distracted by Nyx who had brought over a small daisy he had picked from the garden, handing it proudly to his mother.

Elain smiled softly at the exchange, watching her nephew wander back down the lawn, his little wings fluttering behind him as he went searching for the next thing that caught his attention. He had grown so much in her absence.

Sensing Nesta’s attention, Elain glanced up, and once again was met with her sister’s steely gaze. But it had turned more contemplative, Nesta’s stormy eyes roaming over her expression as if she were trying to crack a difficult code.

“How was it that you were able to winnow so far on your first attempt, Elain?” Nesta asked suddenly. Elain stilled. Nesta had never been one to mince her words, getting straight to the point.

The question wasn’t unkind, but genuinely curious. Elain could see her sisters’ mind working at something, Nesta’s subconscious stitching whatever pieces she had collected and attempting to put them into some sort of semblance of order. Elain struggled not to squirm under the scrutiny.

Feyre had looked up at that, at the sudden change of topic, her attention finally drawn away from her son.

Elain didn’t let her discomfort show, schooling her face into one of mild indifference. She had always been adept at hiding her true emotions. Had become proficient at wearing an unassuming mask, like many others in this Court.

“I told you all before, I simply thought of home. Longed for it, in fact. To be here with all of you, and then I just stepped into the Void and…something showed me the way.”

She tried not to let the guilt of the white lie consume her, it wasn’t all untrue after all. She had been missing them all. It was just the thought of Azriel that had pushed her to make that move.

“Yes, and you ended up in Azriel’s bath,” Nesta said pointedly. “That seems curious, don’t you think?”

Rhysand had said the same thing. Curious. She fought the blush that was threatening to colour the tops of her cheeks at the memory of what she had seen in that bath mere hours ago.

She wasn’t sure why she couldn’t tell her sisters about the suspicions she had for being able to winnow, or the thoughts she had been overcome with just before she had. She supposed it was because if she told them she suspected it was her desire to return to Azriel, then she would have to admit to the feelings she had for him. Which would in turn lead to conversations about why she had been so cold toward him of late, and therefore lead to admitting to the rejection she still felt so heavily from that Solstice night the year before last.

No, she couldn’t deal with all of that now. At least not yet. The humiliation still felt too raw. She had buried those feelings whilst she had been travelling, shoving them down as far as they would go. She realised she had been running from both the hurt of that rejection as well as her feelings for the Shadowsinger. But… she had returned to talk to him. She should at least do that before divulging anything to anyone else.

“I guess something was bound to go wrong. It was my first time winnowing, like you said,” Elain answered nonchalantly with a wave of her hand.

She brushed the back of a finger against Nyx’s smooth cheek, relishing in the soft texture, noting the distinct, sweet scent he exuded that she had missed so much whilst she was away. With a wide blink, the toddler presented a daisy for her too, the petals half crushed in his tiny fist, before he tottered back off again. She smiled down at the yellow flower in her hand.

“Have I told either of you about the parties Helion hosts in the private quarters of his palace?” Elain whispered, wanting to lead her sisters off the topic of Azriel, and into safer territory. She knew it was a cheap shot, but the Day Court orgies seemed enticing enough for the job.

Nesta’s eyes widened, the shock and intrigue evident on her face at Elain’s admission. “Elain! You didn’t go, did you?”

Elain smiled conspiratorially, her lips lifting into a sly grin. “I may have attended. Just to watch,” she verified.

Nesta regarded her sister with curious eyes at that admission, an interest creeping in that she had possibly never considered before.

Feyre’s eyes lit up like all her Solstices had come at once. “I knew it!” she exclaimed. “Elain, tell us every little detail.”

Elain beamed as she delved into a somewhat scandalous story about the infamous parties the High Lord of Day was known to throw. Perhaps she would allow herself to enjoy just one day with her sisters before her male problems would come knocking on her door again.

~

It was naive of Elain to believe she could have an entire day of reprieve before she was confronted with anything to do with the mess that was her love life. If she could even call her situation a love life. It was more like an unwanted mateship with a smattering of stubborn males’ life. Elain shook her head. That made no sense.

But as she walked into the kitchen at the river manor, she was met with twin smirks glancing up at her. Elain halted suddenly as she took in their faces, smug with silent glee, as if they had been awaiting her company all morning.

“Do not even start,” Elain begged, one hand held up, her palm facing Nuala and Cerridwen.

“Why Lady Elain!” Nuala began in mock offense, “I was merely going to express our happiness at your return to the esteemed Night Court.”

Cerridwen’s shoulders shook with laughter as she beat eggs in a bowl, the preparations for dinner already underway.

Elain’s eyes narrowed at her friends. “I’ll have you know; I did not return home to be mocked by the two of you. Thank you very much.”

“What did you return home for, then?” Cerridwen asked without missing a beat, her face alight with mirth.

Elain sighed. Stepping into the warm kitchen, her eyes roving over the workbench the twins were standing behind.

“I missed you guys, too. Although I can do without the ribbing,” Elain responded, choosing to ignore her friend’s question. She reached over and popped a plump cherry into her mouth.

“We are grateful for your safe return, El. But from what we gathered from your letters; you had not been planning your homecoming yet? We wanted to throw you a party upon your return.”

Elain glanced around at the platters of already prepared roast meats, salads, terrines, and various pickles and chutneys. The delicious smell of crusty bread filled the kitchen. This was much more food than a standard dinner at the river house. Her friends had been preparing a feast in her honour. She was touched.

“Well, I decided to come home early, before winter truly took hold,” she replied.

“It seemed you surprised us all with your sudden appearance. I’m sure Master Azriel will not forget your…faux pas anytime soon.”

Elain couldn’t see her friends face as Nuala’s voice floated out from the large pantry, but she was sure the wraith was fighting off a smirk.

Elain groaned.

“Please, do not remind me.”

Cerridwen’s eyes lit up. “Why, are the rumours untrue? Does an Illyrian’s wingspan truly mean nothing?”

“Cerr!” Elain hissed harshly, a blush creeping up her cheeks, “Of course not!”

“So then, the whispers are true? His endowment is as impressive as they all say?” Nuala supplemented mischievously.

“By the Mother,” Elain groaned, sinking into the stool propped near the back door. “You two are insufferable. It’s not fair, there are two of you and only one of me.”

They just shot back twin grins, mischief lining every feature of their stunning faces. Nuala’s face softened slightly as she gazed upon her friend.

“We only tease you, Lady. But do you not find it curious at all that of all the places you could have winnowed to, you appear where the Shadowsinger happened to be?”

Curious. There was that word again. Elain couldn’t lie to her friends, because if she was being honest with herself, it certainly was curious that when she thought of home, she also thought of Azriel. It was silly of her to do so. He clearly did not want her in the same way, but he had always offered her the most comfort. She felt safe with him. Was it truly so curious that home and Azriel had somehow become synonymous in her mind?

Of course it ruddy was curious. He was not her mate, after all. He had no business meaning anything to her, at least that’s what everyone seemed to believe.

She sighed. They were so confusing, these feelings. Sometimes she wondered if the pull she felt toward Azriel was merely a figment of her imagination. She often found herself pondering if his shadows matched the ones in her visions, the ones that twisted and twined until they depicted images of the future in swirling tableaus of black and white and grey.

“I guess it is curious,” Elain pondered quietly. “But it could also have been mere coincidence.” Her words sounded like a lie, even in her own ears.

Cerridwen gave her a kind, knowing smile, her eyes slightly sad as she gazed upon her friend. As if she could sense her denial, her confusion.

“One thing you must learn, Lady Elain, is that nothing in this world is mere coincidence.”

*******

tagging my OG list. If you'd like to be added or removed please let me know: @offtorivendell @fawnandshadows @the-laughing-bubble @swankii-art-teacher @pagemasters @tswaney17 @sakurakittypeach @thefangirlofhp @wingedblooms @duskwhisperer @ultadverb @reverie-tales

[wishcamper]

The Fifty Years

Here is a short lil bonus chapter prequel to my main fic, A Court of Vice and Victors. No spoilers. And no happy endings. Enjoy!(?)

CW: suicidal ideation, alcohol abuse, sexual assault

The first several years were full of activity, devising and implementing long-term plans to sustain the city through what looked to be a long siege. It was quickly discovered that while they could not leave without disrupting the wards, the citizens of Velaris were perfectly free to come and go as they pleased. Azriel’s network was robust enough they learned the particulars of Rhys’ capture not long after he shouted that frantic message in their minds, when the pulse of magic gushed over them like hot blood. They even managed to get someone inside the mountain, to give him the strength of their love and promises of rescue. 

He sent a single word back. 

Don’t.  

Don’t come. Don’t burn the world down, like he knew they wanted to. Don’t let this sacrifice be in vain.

After that, messengers returned bearing nothing. Eventually they stopped returning altogether.

Still, there were things to do in the beginning, enough to keep the blind panic at bay, resources to inventory and ration, information streams to create. Amren wrote for days on end contacting the other courts and hunting down every lead she could. Azriel recruited and trained to expand his spy network and Cassian assigned proxies in Illyria to make sure the camps didn’t collapse into all-out war in his absence.

Mor did something helpful, she guessed, though mostly she just wandered around the empty townhouse twisting her hands and wondering what the fuck they were going to do.

Her despair set in long before everyone else’s, who seemed to think it was a temporary obstacle, victory well within reach. But Mor saw the blood-red writing on the wall - her gift, to know the depth of a thing for what it truly was.

This was going to be bad. For a long time. Maybe forever.

So it was with hollow words that Mor whispered comfort to the other two, with liar’s hands she brushed the hair from their faces where they fell asleep resting against one another on the sofa in front of the fire.

Hardship has a habit of bringing out the best and worst in folks, and Mor ricocheted from one to the other so fast her head spun. She found herself drawing from that well of golden light within her, showering a scared mother or fretful shop owner with fortitude while her hands were cold and slick with sweat. Flirting shamelessly with a male before slipping into Velaris’ most discreet pleasure hall to fall apart under the female who no longer charged her for the visit.

And the wine was just too easy, from the beginning. Cassian was coping by treating every small success with as much enthusiasm as he could, so he was always game to end up somewhere weird, the right amount of drunk and laughing a little too loud. And it was nice, having him there, his massive frame making the males give her a wide berth. She was safe with him, she always had been, so it wasn’t difficult to overindulge and need help walking home and tumble into bed like a child. To let him yank off her shoes and toss a blanket over her before heading to his room down the hall.

And though he never said it outright, she knew he liked having someone to care for, to fuss over. His natural bent toward monogamy was completely at odds with the realities of his life, especially now, so he split his need, got the emotional intimacy from Mor and the physical intimacy decidedly elsewhere.

Mor loved Cassian in a way that was incorruptible, never marred by something so idiotic as attraction, but sometimes she felt the gap it left between them, like she could never quite get close enough. The nights his eyes flashed at a female across the bar, she felt the curl of dread rise in her stomach, knowing she’d be bumped down the list, always. 

He kept a chamber of his heart closed to her that he’d one day open for someone else, someone who made him walk like that, like he was the best he’d ever be. Those nights she drank alone until the sun kissed the horizon, until she was too dizzy to stand as the world was shrouded in the watercolors of the dawn.

But they clung to each other, with the unspoken rule between the three that only one of them could fall apart at a time. And so it went, year after year.

There’s a time, in a long wait, when the hope dies. When the heart becomes too heavy and sinks into the well of darkness that lurks in all living things.

Azriel hit the wall first, about a decade in.

He shuffled into her room one night, wings backlit from the hall, and muttered He’s not coming back before continuing toward his bedroom like he said nothing at all. After that, he retreated further into himself, his shadows thick and sluggish where they draped over his body like tendrils of limp seaweed. Cassian and Mor fretted over it for months, heads bent low over a flickering candle in the library, searching for anything that could set their brothers free. Az became almost entirely nocturnal in response to their pushing.

And then the rumors began.

Traitor. Murderer. Amarantha’s whore. Nasty whisperings reached Velaris of Rhys and his new role as consort and enforcer Under the Mountain. Mor was sick the first time she heard them, doubled over on the docks of the Sidra while Cassian held back her hair. She clutched his offered handkerchief to her mouth, the wild beating of her heart telling her to run, run, run , with no idea where to go. 

But the eternal bent of all beings is adaptation, and as the years wore on Velaris settled into a new normal. Mor began to forget the world outside the city, as if the beaches of Summer or yawning halls of Day were just a story she’d heard once. In moments she’d think vaguely that her horses at Athelwood must’ve foaled several times by now, that her father was likely pushing his fundamentalist filth on a new generation of females. But none of it felt real, just a passing thought floating by on the inconstant wind. She could only block out the memories of Rhys, until he too became a symbol, frozen in time. 

The forty-nine year curse felt just as false, and she didn’t have the strength to do much more than wait for her final judgment. Guilt consumed her every time the wish for Rhys’ death crossed her mind, if only because it might set them free, and she'd drink until the sharp edges smoothed like glass tumbled in the sea.

Cassian’s fury at their resignation was not surprising but unwelcome all the same. His encouragement quickly morphed to a sense of betrayal, and he raged at her and Azriel, calling them traitors, cowards. When that didn’t work, he begged them not to give up and, while he said it was for Rhys, Mor couldn’t help but feel his knees hit the moldering carpet for his own life, too. Finding them unmoved, he disappeared into the outer edge of the Palace of Bone and Salt, dominating the underground boxing rings and fucking anything that breathed.

For twelve years, they didn’t speak to each other outside of monthly council meetings. Mor started drinking in the morning, as much to brace herself to see them as for the repulsive normalcy of their courtly tasks. All discussion of rescue plans died a quiet death long ago. Amren alone seemed somewhat content helming the city in Rhys’ stead, and at times Mor was even grateful for the female’s callousness if only because she could see the future no one else would.

As the deadline loomed her despair picked up in fervor, a buzzing under her skin that begged for release. So the night she ran into Azriel skulking in front of a pleasure hall she couldn’t help wrapping him in her arms and squeezing with all her might, as if she could hold him tightly enough to snap all their pieces back in place. Their fate would be decided in three months, and it felt wrong to be apart.

They began this time together; it was only right it should end that way, too.

Without a word, Az winnowed them to the fighting rings and pulled a dull-eyed Cassian out by the collar. After a bout of faltering conversation, they ended up on the roof of the townhouse, passing a bottle of wine between them and trading gallows humor at the wreckage of it all. Mor savored the tastes on her tongue, both the wine and the laughter, small comforts at the end of the world. 

They did the same the next week. And then a few days later, and again, until every night culminated in the trio sprawled on the carpet of the townhouse in various states of impairment, sharing the stories they hadn’t let themselves remember in years because now they had nothing to lose. The idea of her own death was a comfort, wishing for it at times in her sleep, at the bottom of a glass. But she was too far gone to be afraid, to feel anything at all, and she’d always been a coward at heart.

So when Mor stumbled in from the street to find Cassian prone in front of the fire reeking of skullcap and sex, it only made sense to lie next to him and place her head on his broad chest. Feeling the erratic thump of his broken heart against her cheek, she closed her eyes and pictured jumping outside the wards, how she might dissolve into ash and float away on the breeze.

“You’re home early.” His voice was thick with intoxication, the arm he slung around her back limp and heavy.

She shifted to look at the side of his face, silhouetted by the flames. His nose had a new crook in it, and she ran a finger over the bump. “Cass?” 

“Mm.”

“Do you love me?”

She knew the answer, but it still set an ache in her chest when he said, “Of course I do.”

“Would you, if it doesn’t end.. If I don’t have the courage..”

Would you please kill me?

“Mor,” His lips brushed the top of her head, and for a moment she felt as his lovers must in the wake of their pleasure, exhausted and held. “I can’t, I’m sorry. I don’t think I can ever give up. I don’t have it in me.”

She knew he was right. It was why she could never follow through on her fantasies, and as Azriel shuffled into the parlor and threw himself on a sofa she knew she’d never give up either. Because the ghost of her hope had lingered after it died, waiting to be reborn.

The hope for hope itself is unkillable, enduring, even as it tortures the heart eternally.

Mor reached a hand above her head and Azriel took it, and she savored the feeling of the scars she so rarely got to touch. “I miss Rhys,” he murmured and the tears overtook her then, the love and despair and alcohol mixing in her blood, the smell of salt thick in the air.

Those final months they spent huddled before the fire felt longer than the fifty years before. And then Rhys appeared on the balcony, sobbing and repeating she’s my mate, she’s my mate.

For a world-stalling moment, Mor thought he meant Amarantha.

But he brought them his savior, and she stayed the course through his agony, through Feyre’s depression, held to the rule that only one of them could fall apart at a time because one day it would be her turn again. Through war, through upheaval in the family she held fast, waiting for another ending that would never come. 

It wasn’t until much later, when she stared dumbfounded as her cousin sold her out to her father, to the male who’d left her to rot, that she realized a truth even her gift couldn’t see. 

The hope only dies if someone kills it.

[taqwatawheedtales]

As we come together to celebrate Eid with our families, friends, and loved ones, it's crucial to remember those whose hearts are heavy with loss and grief. In Gaza, orphan children are mourning the absence of their parents and siblings, finding solace in makeshift tents instead of festive homes. While we adorn our spaces with decorations, they adorn their tents with resilience and hope amidst adversity. As we bow in prayer at mosques, they gather amidst the remnants of their sacred places, offering prayers and praises to Allah amidst ruins. And as we indulge in lavish feasts and desserts, parents in Gaza witness the heartbreaking reality of their children suffering from hunger and deprivation.

Eid is a time of joy and celebration, but it's also a time for reflection and compassion. Let us not forget those who are struggling, whose Eid is marked by unimaginable hardships and losses. Our prayers and support can make a difference in their lives, offering them hope and strength during these challenging times. May this Eid be a reminder of the importance of unity, empathy, and solidarity, extending our love and blessings to those in need. Eid Mubarak to all, with prayers for peace and healing for everyone, especially those facing adversity in Gaza and beyond. 💔🌙

[reflectonlike]

Happy Birthday FACE!!

I wanted to celebrate the album by diving and exploring the possible meaning of colors behind it (and also listening to the album), why isn’t letter on streaming platforms yet?

FACE concept primary color is Grey/gray. The cover, color palette, promotional material and even the merch contains it.

Grey:

“grey is too weak to be considered masculine, but too menacing to be considered a feminine color. It is neither warm nor cold, neither material or spiritual. With grey, nothing seems to be decided” -Eva Heller

🩶Pewter:

The color pewter lands in the middle of cool and warm without a trace of either. Pewter is a versatile color that can serve as a soothing background or as an understated accent color - Adobe Express

Grey color (under pewter shade) can carry some negative connotations, and is often linked to depression and loss. Being a dark and muted color, grey also belongs to a group of ’’sad’’ colors. It is somewhat viewed as a dull, boring shade, due to its absence of color. Too much of the color grey can also evoke feelings of sadness and loneliness. On the other hand, grey can appear very professional, modern looking, sophisticated - colorpsychology.org

🩶Silver: From a color psychology viewpoint, it signals a time of reflection and a change of direction as it illuminates the way forward. It helps with the cleansing and releasing of mental, physical and emotional issues and blockages as it opens new doors and lights the way to the future.

Silver is a gentler colour than gold (or bronze) representing feminine energy and the sensitivity of the moon. It is also the colour of grace and elegance -SignetBranding.

🩶Platinum:

The properties of its namesake (the element) make the color platinum a symbol of strength and rarity, too. - Adobe express

Even under pressure and heat, the metal platinum retains its brightness. It also has a high melting point and is highly resistant to corrosion. Due to its brilliance and shine, platinum is also imbued with meanings of discovery and expressions of integrity.

Often, it symbolizes the act of people looking into themselves and finding the truth.

This last part is from a marketing perspective on defining color for branding purposes, it’s quite interesting.

Bonus

The complementary color of rose gold, which is the color directly across from it on the color wheel, is gray (#6DB7AC). -Picsart Blog

🩰Rose gold: Gold + copper. Some people associate rose gold with spiritualism. As a spiritual color, rose gold is incredibly comforting. It can imbue in you the emotional strength required to overcome hardships or at least face them with long-suffering.

What a joy is to discover new things thanks to art. 🩶🩰

[sound-of-god]

"Echoes of Love in Ruins: A Symphony of Loss"

( Disclaimer:English is not my first language)

In the desolation of a world ravaged by war, König's heart discovered an unexpected sanctuary in the midst of ruins – a connection with.. You, a civilian whose resilience mirrored the strength of the crumbling city around them.

Their paths crossed by chance amid the skeletal remains of what was once a vibrant neighborhood. You, a survivor of the war's indiscriminate wrath, bore the scars of loss with a quiet dignity. König, the war-weary soldier, found himself drawn to her like a moth to a flame, seeking solace in the simplicity of her existence.

Their initial encounters were tentative, marked by shared glances and fleeting smiles. You, with a grace born of hardship, extended a hand of understanding to König, recognizing the unspoken pain etched on his weathered face. In the hushed moments between air raids and distant gunfire, a connection blossomed – a fragile respite from the brutality of their surroundings.

As the war continued its relentless assault, König and Your bond deepened, transcending the boundaries of their disparate worlds. She became the anchor in his storm, a source of comfort in the chaos that defined their existence. Their love story unfolded in stolen moments, whispered confessions, and the warmth of shared silences.

However, fate, indifferent to their burgeoning love, intervened with a cruel twist. You, a civilian caught in the crossfire, became another casualty of the war's unforgiving nature. König stood amidst the ruins of what once was their haven, his heart shattered by the abrupt silence that followed her absence.

The remnants of the city, once witnesses to their shared moments, now stood as melancholic monuments to a love cut short. Every step König took through the deserted streets echoed with the haunting memories of Your laughter and the gentle touch of her hand.

As he moved through the desolate landscapes, the weight of her absence bore down on him, turning each corner into a reminder of the love he had lost. The once stoic warrior now navigated the ruins with a heart burdened by the void that You left behind.

In the quiet moments between battles, König revisited the fragments of their love – the stolen glances, whispered confessions, and the dreams that now lay shattered like the city around him. The symphony of war played on, but for König, the notes were forever laced with the somber melody of a love that had slipped through his grasp, leaving behind an ache that echoed through the ruins of their once-hopeful sanctuary.

[lifephilosophys-blog]

عندما نتحدث عن اختيار الألم، فإنه يعتبر قراراً شجاعاً ومعقداً في آن واحد. فالألم ليس دليلاً على الشجاعة بحد ذاته، بل هو اختيار يتم بعمق وتأملاً في الظروف والمواقف. يمكن أن يكون الألم خياراً لأنه قد يحمل في طياته فوائد لا يُمكن للسعادة الرخوة أن تقدمها.

ربما يكون الألم المعجز الذي تنتجه تجارب الحياة هو ما يساهم في النمو الشخصي والروحي. ففي بعض الأحيان، نجد في الألم والصعوبات العميقة الدروس التي لا يمكن أن تُدرَك في غيابها. قد يساعد الألم في بناء الصلابة والتحمل، وفي تقوية الإرادة والعزيمة، وهو بذلك يمثل تحدٍ يُثبت شجاعة الفرد وقوته الداخلية.

في العديد من الحالات، يتم اختيار الألم كوسيلة لتبرير التواجد أو الاستمرار في مواقف أو علاقات قد تكون مؤلمة. فقد يشعر الشخص بأن الألم قد يُبعِد الناس عنه أو قد يمنحه مبرراً لعدم الوصول إلى مستوى معين من السعادة. ولكن ينبغي أن نتساءل هنا، هل هذا الألم الذي نختاره حقاً مبرراً يساعدنا في التقدم نحو علاقات وظروف أكثر صحة وسعادة؟

الرضا الساكن، بدلاً من الألم المستمر، قد يكون خياراً أكثر شجاعة وأكثر تحدٍّا. إن القدرة على الاستفادة من التحديات والتعلم من الصعوبات تمثل شجاعة حقيقية. وقد يكون الرضا الداخلي والقدرة على الاستمتاع بالسعادة البسيطة والثابتة أشرف من البقاء في حالة من التبرير المستمر للعجز من خلال الألم.

لذا، عندما نجد أنفسنا في مواقف تدعونا إلى اختيار الألم كوسيلة لتبرير عدم القدرة على التغيير أو التحسن، يجب أن نعيد تقييم تلك الاختيارات. الشجاعة لا تكمن في تحمُّل الألم بلا داعٍ، بل في استخدام القوة الداخلية لنحدد مسارنا نحو الشفاء والسعادة.

في النهاية، الحياة ليست عبارة عن البقاء في حالة من الألم المستمر لتبرير العجز. بل هي عن الشجاعة لنحدد مسارنا نحو النمو وتحقيق السعادة الحقيقية والرضا. ولذلك، ينبغي لنا أن نحمل في أذهاننا أن الألم ليس بالضرورة خياراً شجاعاً، بل قد يكون الشجاعة تكمن في الاختيارات التي تقودنا نحو الشفاء، النمو، والسعادة الدائمة.

Choosing pain is a brave and complex decision. Pain is not a sign of bravery in itself, but rather a choice made deeply and thoughtfully considering the circumstances and situations. Pain might be chosen because it holds benefits that fleeting happiness cannot offer.

The miracles born from life's experiences might contribute to personal and spiritual growth. Sometimes, deep lessons can be found in pain and hardships that cannot be grasped in their absence. Pain might help build resilience and endurance, strengthen willpower and determination, and represent a challenge that proves an individual's courage and inner strength.

In many cases, pain is chosen as a means to justify staying in situations or relationships that may be hurtful. An individual might feel that pain keeps people away or gives them a reason for not reaching a certain level of happiness. However, we should ask ourselves – is the pain we choose truly a justifiable means to progress towards healthier and happier relationships and circumstances?

Choosing contentment over perpetual pain might be a braver and more challenging choice. The ability to benefit from challenges and learn from difficulties represents true courage. Inner contentment and the ability to embrace simple and consistent happiness might be nobler than continuously justifying incapacity through pain.

Therefore, when we find ourselves in situations that call for choosing pain as a means to justify an inability to change or improve, we must reassess those choices. Bravery does not lie in enduring unjustified pain, but in using inner strength to chart our path towards healing and happiness.

Ultimately, life is not about enduring perpetual pain to justify helplessness. It is about the courage to chart our path towards growth and true happiness and satisfaction. Therefore, we should bear in mind that pain is not necessarily a brave choice; true bravery might lie in choosing paths that lead us towards healing, growth, and enduring happiness.

Acıyı seçmek cesur ve karmaşık bir karardır. Acı kendisi başlı başına cesaretin bir göstergesi değil, daha çok derin ve düşünceli bir şekilde yapılan bir seçimdir, koşullar ve durumlar göz önüne alınarak. Acı, geçici bir mutluluk sunamayacağı faydaları taşıdığı için tercih edilebilir.

Hayatın deneyimlerinden doğan mucizeler, kişisel ve ruhsal büyümeye katkıda bulunabilir. Bazı durumlarda, acı ve zorluklarda bulunamayacak derin dersler bulunabilir. Acı, direncin ve dayanıklılığın oluşturulmasına yardımcı olabilir, iradeyi ve azmi güçlendirebilir, bireyin cesaretini ve iç gücünü kanıtlayan bir meydan okuma olabilir.

Birçok durumda, acı, incitici olabilecek durumlar veya ilişkilerde kalmayı haklı çıkarmak için bir araç olarak seçilir. Birey, acının insanları uzak tuttuğunu veya belirli bir mutluluk seviyesine ulaşamama nedeni olarak kullanabilir. Ancak kendimize sormalıyız - seçtiğimiz acı gerçekten daha sağlıklı ve mutlu ilişkilere ve durumlara doğru ilerlemenin haklı bir aracı mı?

Sonsuz acı yerine iç huzuru tercih etmek, daha cesur ve zorlu bir seçim olabilir. Zorluklardan yararlanma ve zorluklardan öğrenme yeteneği, gerçek cesareti temsil eder. İç huzur ve basit ve sürekli mutluluğu kucaklayabilme yeteneği, acıyı sürekli bir mazeret olarak kullanmaktan daha asil olabilir.

Bu nedenle, kendimizi değişememe veya gelişememe konusundaki bir acıyı seçme gerektiren durumlarda bulduğumuzda, bu seçimleri tekrar gözden geçirmemiz gerekir. Cesaret, haksız yere acı çekmekle değil, iç gücü kullanarak iyileşme ve mutluluk yolculuğumuzu izlemekte yatar.

Sonuç olarak, hayat, çaresizliği haklı çıkarmak için sonsuz acıya dayanmakla ilgili değildir. Gerçek cesaret, büyümeye, gerçek mutluluk ve memnuniyete doğru yolculuğumuzu belirleyecek yolları seçmekte yatabilir. Bu nedenle, acı her zaman cesur bir tercih olmayabilir; gerçek cesaret, bizi iyileşmeye, büyümeye ve kalıcı mutluluğa götürecek yolları seçebilmekte yatabilir.

Escolher a dor é uma decisão corajosa e complexa. A dor não é em si um sinal de coragem, mas sim uma escolha feita com profunda reflexão e consideração das circunstâncias e situações pessoais. A dor pode contribuir para um crescimento pessoal e espiritual, oferecendo benefícios que a simples e passageira felicidade não pode proporcionar.

As lições profundas podem ser encontradas nas dores e dificuldades da vida. A dor pode auxiliar na construção de resiliência e determinação, fortalecendo a força de vontade e servindo como um desafio que comprova a coragem e a força interior de uma pessoa.

Em muitos casos, a dor é escolhida como uma justificação para permanecer em situações ou relacionamentos dolorosos. Alguém pode usar a dor como uma desculpa para se afastar das pessoas ou para justificar a incapacidade de alcançar um certo nível de felicidade. No entanto, devemos nos questionar se a dor que escolhemos realmente nos leva a avançar em direção a relações e situações mais saudáveis e felizes.

Optar pela paz interior em vez de uma dor contínua pode ser uma escolha mais corajosa e desafiadora. A capacidade de aprender com as dificuldades e transformá-las em crescimento representa a verdadeira coragem. A habilidade de encontrar paz interior e abraçar a felicidade simples e duradoura pode ser mais nobre do que usar a dor como uma desculpa constante.

Portanto, quando nos encontramos em situações que exigem escolher a dor da incapacidade ou da falta de crescimento, é necessário rever essas escolhas. A verdadeira coragem não reside em suportar inutilmente a dor, mas sim em utilizar a força interior para seguir um caminho em direção à cura e à felicidade.

Em última análise, a vida não se trata de justificar a angústia, mas sim de optar por caminhos que nos levem ao crescimento, à verdadeira felicidade e satisfação. Assim, a dor nem sempre pode ser uma escolha corajosa; a verdadeira coragem pode residir em escolher os caminhos que nos levem à cura, ao crescimento e à felicidade duradoura.

[murasakibonnet]

Liminal Space

A ROTTMNT Experimental AU Masterpost

Based off the 2003 TMNT episode Same as it Never Was, Liminal Space is a ROTTMNT AU meant to twist the central plot of the original. It asks: what if instead of Donatello traveling to distant dystopian future scarred by his absence, it was his brothers that were sent in his place.

Now twenty plus years into the future, Leo, Mikey and Raph must navigate through a whole new world occupied with familiar yet different faces. They’ll come to learn that during their absence, war broke out between yokai and humans with mutants simply caught in the middle. And though it’s been years since the war has ceased, the world is still working to heal from it’s fallout. 

Peace was established but tensions are high, taking the combined strength of a mysterious power hierarchy to keep it all civil.

Surprisingly, it isn’t the foot clan that’s up to anything foolish, though, why is someone running around in armor that bears distinct similarities to the Kuroi Yoroi? 

And what’s all this talk of multiple universes and bifurcated time branches?

Leo’s worried about getting back to the past. Raph’s focused on “fixing” this dreary future. And Mikey just hopes they’ll make it through all this alive.  

... Except we’re not just following their story ...

Now faced with the reality that his brothers have disappeared with no real method of getting them back, present timeline Donatello must overcome hardships and obstacles that threaten his home, friends and family. 

He’ll have to make new allies amongst faces that have yet to appear in the ROTTMNT universe, if he hopes to survive with his sanity intact. 

At the end of the day, though his brothers are not there to help him, he is not alone.

Additional info:

- This takes place two years after the movie so the brothers are aged 17,18 and 19 respectively.

- As mentioned, this is an experimental AU which means I’m moreso using it to learn and experiment with my art style than to create a cohesive story. Maybe something resembling one will come through with enough time and posts. *shrugs* But my main concern is having fun with worldbuilding and learning about techniques used for comics and maybe animatics. 

- Feel free to ask me questions, I’m gonna be pretty generous on answers. I’ll place a general *SPOILERS* warning on top of my posts should it feel necessary. 

Plot:

The plot is going to be divided in two different story lines respectively called Cause and Effect.

Murphy’s Law (How’d we get here?)

The obligatory set-up to the whole story which can be found here. 

Cause largely goes over how present Donatello had to deal with his brothers being otherwise preoccupied as the relation between humanity and mysticism reach boiling point.

Effect is primarily from Leo, Mikey and Raph’s point of view in the future. I don’t plan to actually post these details in a chronological order so I’m just warning you all this now and hence the Effect Arc is absolutely going to have spoilers from the Cause Arc. 

Honestly, I’m hoping to focus on funny moments for this portion of the story. An overarching plot is in the works but shenanigans is the prime goal. 

Bonus Content:

Effect Arc Wardrobe Concepts-  Mikey Leon Raphie

Toughest Shell

Power UP!

Progress Update

[sinful-morningstar]

Spartober 2023 Day 7 Brood (Vergil)

Author's note: this is just a look into Vergil's thoughts and there are hints of VerDante of course but other than that it's just a bit of angst, Enjoy! Prompts by whatisanapocolae1 (I use a combination of SPartober and Devil MayTober Prompts)

{I am almost finally caught up to all the prompts now i can start doing daily posts starting tomorrow!} 7: Brood (Vergil)

Vergil stood at the top of the Qliphoth as felt the breeze blow past him closing his eyes he took it all in, he had returned to Dante after years of his absence, when he was a shell of himself ;his vessel used like a puppet for Nelo Angelo…he had little strength to separate himself and put himself back together again… He had a son..Nero.. that was a long time ago..the circumstances were unknown as to why and how he had Nero in the first place. He shook his head gently. His memories were not what they once were, after all the hardship and trauma it did get to him in the end. His focus is still on Dante… “Dante..” Vergil sighed softly he knew he would do as he was told, Heal his wound..get Stronger.. They would soon settle the matter he was sure of as he created a seat for himself so rest and contemplate all that had happened, Urizen and V combined in his mind sharing different memories and different thoughts but they all held one thing in common..Dante.. he remembered what they once shared..would they continue that dreaded ballad of Determination or would they finally yield to their swords…breaking up themselves into something lesser?. Vergil wasn't so sure..he just Sat there wondering where he went wrong. He tried not to let the thought enter his mind..but it did ..and it hurt..it hurt like hell..this all started this all happened because he couldn't protect Eva…he was weak..a child …but he still fought with each breath he fought knowing he could do better, be better, he remembers seeking out power in others. Falling for Arkham's tricks and manipulation as a young man. Images of previous battles with Dante. Impaling him with the yamato leaving him to his own devices. He sighed, shaking his head. He hadn't been plagued with these thoughts in so long that part of him even wondered what the point was moving on and pressing forward. He clicked open the sheath of the Yamato pulling it out admiring the blade as he recalled the blood dripping off of it every time he had hurt Dante everytime he had to prove himself..but to whom? You ask? He wasn't so sure himself… Yet here he sat waiting knowing that Dante was on his way …and he was ready…

Vergil looked out to the distance exhaling slowly as he held the blade in his hands tracing over the intricate details of the handle and sliding his fingertips over the sharp edge as beads of his own blood formed.

"That day, if our positions were switched... Would our fates be different? Would I have your life, and you mine?” he wondered out loud.

He heard Dante’s footsteps as he sighed gently knowing he was approaching, he sighed to himself wiping the blood off his fingers on his coat as he got up from the seat making it vanish with the snap of his fingers.

“So be it..” he hummed as he faced Dante one last time…

[jigawattsims]

hey everyone! so excited to kick off my simblr journey by introducing you to my current legacy family!

ʚ ═══･୨ ꕤ ୧･═══ ɞ

Madeline, the second youngest among seven siblings, was raised in the warm embrace of her four older sisters. This was a household filled with laughter, creativity, and an unbreakable bond forged through shared experiences and familial love. Despite the absence of her brother, who remained a mystery, Madeline found solace and companionship in the company of her sisters, each one contributing to the vibrant tapestry of their upbringing.

With an innate sense of individuality and a penchant for artistic expression, Madeline's unique style and passion for painting set her apart from her peers. High school, however, proved to be a tumultuous period marked by heartache and betrayal when her high school sweetheart cheated on her with her sworn enemy. The wounds of betrayal ran deep, casting a shadow over Madeline's youthful optimism and leaving her grappling with feelings of anger and sadness for years to come.

Enter Salvatore, a rugged yet charming figure whose life stood in stark contrast to Madeline's. Raised in the tranquility of the countryside, Salvatore shouldered the weight of responsibility from a young age, caring for his younger brother amidst the challenges posed by an alcoholic father. Despite the hardships he faced, Salvatore's encounter with Madeline at a farmer's market proved to be a turning point, infusing his world with color and hope as their love blossomed against the odds.

Their wedding in the picturesque setting of Sulani was a celebration of love and unity, with Madeline's mother playing a poignant role in the ceremony. Yet, tragedy struck with devastating force when Madeline's mother passed away unexpectedly during childbirth, unraveling long-held family secrets that sent shockwaves through their lives. The revelation that Salvatore's father was the father of the newborn baby, Estelle, shattered their sense of stability and left them grappling with a whirlwind of emotions.

Amidst the turmoil, Salvatore's brother emerged as a beacon of support, offering a home and a name to Estelle, the innocent child caught in the crossfire of scandal. As they navigated the complexities of parenthood, Madeline and Salvatore welcomed Javier, and then two years later Emilio into their family, finding solace in the rhythm of everyday life and the bonds of love that held them together.

But fate had one more surprise in store for them, as Madeline discovered she was pregnant once again, this time with triplets. The arrival of Astrid, Florence, and Gabriel brought both joy and chaos into their lives, each child adding their own unique personality to the family dynamic. From Astrid's infectious laughter to Florence's regal demeanor and Gabriel's timid nature, the triplets added an extra dimension to the already bustling household, creating a symphony of chaos and love that reverberated through the walls of their home.

As they journeyed through the highs and lows of parenthood, Madeline and Salvatore remained steadfast in their love and commitment to each other, drawing strength from the bonds of family that held them together. Theirs is a story of resilience, perseverance, and the enduring power of love to overcome even the greatest of obstacles.

But the life of the Mendoza's is only starting!

ʚ ═══･୨ ꕤ ୧･═══ ɞ