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sarahs-library · 1 year

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Forgotten: Part Two

Azriel wakes to find himself with everything he'd never allowed himself to wish for. Now, faced with the reality of all he thought he wanted, he must come to terms with his desires and the unexpected direction his life had taken.

Word count - 3564

A/N - Thank you all so much for reading the first part of my little story and for all the lovely comments and words of encouragement. I'm still learning how to post and interact on here, a few people asked to be added to a taglist which I've tried to create but I'm not sure if it actually works.

Part One ☪ Part Three

Forgotten Universe: Pretty Eyes

Azriel

Azriel was still under Madja’s knurled fingers as they palpated his temples, the soothing chill of her healing magic drifted over tender, swollen skin. Her copper eyes assessed his face closely and he schooled his features into a blank mask. His gaze drifted over the curve of her shoulder to meet Rhys as he lingered by the open doors of the balcony. The bland smile, the loose set of his shoulders, and the hands that hung casually in the pockets of his trousers irked Azriel. After so many years it wasn’t difficult to read this feigned nonchalance, the worry it masked beneath.

“A lingering effect of the head injury, exacerbated by the bloodsbane.” Madja’s fingers continued to probe as Azriel returned his attention to her. Thickness lingered on his tongue; left over from the medication she’d administered on her arrival to reign in his fever. His head felt clearer now, where his shadows had been silent before they sang again, murmuring of the almost imperceptible anxious shift of Rhys’ weight on the floorboards. Elsewhere the House of Wind was quiet and empty, Elain having fled into Rhys’ arms with a demand to be winnowed home without sparing a glance in his direction. Azriel had been left to stew in solitude until his brother had returned with the ancient healer tucked in his arms, greying spindrift hair windswept, her face lined with wrinkles and kind concern.

“Some amnesia isn’t uncommon with an injury like this,” Madja continued finally pulling her hands away from his face. “Though to ascertain its true extent you must tell us what you remember shadow-singer.” She retreated from him into the chair Elain had occupied earlier, righted by Rhys, and slowly lowered herself on creaking joints. Azriel balked a little under the attention as he tried to force himself to recollect. Pain brewed between his eyes. He remembered the visit to Hewn City, the scheming; the gifting of Nesta’s made blade to Eris. He remembered the solstice party, the disaster of his foray with Elain afterward, and his brother’s wrath. The ensuing weeks had been busy, his mornings occupied with training the Valkyries and concocting obstacle courses modeled after the Blood Rite qualifier. The afternoons and evenings spent keeping tabs on Eris and following up on the dead leads from whispers and fables of high-fae women bearing winged babes. Everything after was hazy, difficult to hold, and worsened the pain in his head if he tried to focus for too long.

“Feyre,” he said, and Rhys cocked an eyebrow, his face encouraging him to continue. “We were following leads on the delivery of winged babes.” The darkening of Rhys’ features filled Azriel with a sense of foreboding. “Feyre,” he continued, “is she…Is the babe...” He trailed off, unsure of how to broach the topic. Rhys’ features softened, understanding his brother had misinterpreted the emotion to be driven by his grief and loss and not for the male before him. Shoulders pulled forward in a rare display of vulnerability, scarred fingers clasping his knees for stability, Rhys struggled to recall a recent memory of seeing his brother so open, so vulnerable. He hadn’t seen him this lost since their youth in the war camps.

“Feyre,” Rhy drawled, fixing Azriel with what he hoped was an abating expression. “And the babe, we named him Nyx, they’re both well. Perfect.” Rhys watched his brother process the information, the small twitch of the corner of his mouth the only sign of his surprise. Watched as Azriel came to terms with the missing months in the timeline, Feyre still had half of her pregnancy to go during the solstice. How would he even begin to broach the missing years? “You don’t remember anything about the attack?” Rhys probed, Azriel bristled under the line of questioning.

“No.” His fingers danced over his injured abdomen and trailed the bandages before climbing up to rub over the empty feeling in his chest, worse than any wound he’d ever gotten. It left him feeling cold and empty. The glint of his rings caught his eye. The signet on his little finger embossed with the Night Court symbol, a gift from Rhys centuries ago declaring him part of his found family, rubbed against an unfamiliar band of gold.

Feyre

Feyre locked eyes with Nuala as she crouched over Nyx playing with his toys on the carpet. The shadow-wraith stepped silently over to them and greeted the young heir to the Night Court with a small smile, producing a plate of homemade biscuits warm from the oven and smelling of cinnamon. Nyx fixed her with his cerulean eyes and toothy smile, cheeks chubby from the lingering fat of youth. Reaching out to fist the crumbling treat in one hand he thanked her, proceeding to get more crumbs in the creases of his clothes than he did in his mouth. Feyre’s heart swelled.

“I’ll be back soon,” she reached out to stroke his midnight hair as his arms waved, one brandishing a small wooden figure and the other his half-eaten treat.

“Okay, mama.” His eyes were drawn to her briefly before he returned to his imaginary world, moving his wooden figure into position to conquer the high ground of his drawing table, covered in drying paint and charcoal pencils.

“You’ll behave for Nuala won’t you?” Nyx nodded eagerly in agreement and proceeded to clash the figurine in his hand against a triangle formation of his enemies with a sound of delight. Feyre rose, leaning close to thank the shadow-wraith on her way to the door. After taking an indulgent glance backward she stepped into the breach, winnowing to a familiar path on the outskirts of Velaris.

Well-manicured grass thick with morning dew poked through the paving stones Feyre stepped between on the way up to the front door. The lower level was in darkness, the windows blending into the dark stone and winding vines. The second level blazed, fae light seeping out of the floor-to-ceiling windows though Feyre saw no movement.

The dark wood of the door opened on a wind under her fist, poised to knock, and Feyre took the invitation to enter. The foyer offset the chill of the early morning air and she made a beeline towards the dark staircase. The open door allowed a beam of sunlight into the sitting area, dark with the curtains drawn, illuminating the comfortable leather chairs perched around the large fireplace.

Feyre eyed the portrait hanging above the mantle, a solstice gift to Azriel the year after his mating ceremony, her heart ached. Depicting the moment after the vows had been said and the food exchanged, hands clasped between them bound by thick dark ribbon, Feyre remembered agonizing for days over how to properly encapsulate onto the canvas the shared look of love and adoration. Feyre couldn’t imagine how you had coped over the last few days, in the last months of pregnancy sitting vigil at Azriel’s bedside wondering if he would wake up. Presumably elated to hear he had awake, only to find him in the arms of another woman, one with whom he shared such history.

Continuing up the stairs to the second floor Feyre followed the fae lights towards the front of the house. The door to the nursery was ajar and she stopped short of the threshold. Your back was to her, one hand tracing the soft carved wood of the bassinet Azriel had spent every spare moment painstakingly crafting. The scent of fresh paint hung in the air, leftover from a few weeks ago when the pair of you decorated the walls with murals of snow-capped mountains, lush forest greenery, and frolicking animals.

Suspended over the bassinet in a sea of miniature stars hung multicolored globes, each spinning on their invisible axis. The spiraling constellation, you’d called it a galaxy, held all the planets known to your people. Feyre wondered how many you’d seen in your trips across the stars as you reached up into the field of magic closest to you to trace your fingers over a small planet of russet brown cratered with darker swirls.

“Rhys told me what happened.” Feyre watched as you continued to agitate the floating sphere. You didn’t turn. She crept closer into the room, torn between giving you space and reaching out in comfort. She waited with bated breath to see if you would respond before continuing. “It’s the head injury, he doesn’t remember.”

“He had no idea who I was.” The hand that hung in the stars moved to cradle your abdomen. “He would’ve…” You trailed off. The posturing, the aggression, there was no doubt at that moment Azriel viewed you only as a threat, a stranger, someone who had invaded his home. That was not the male who had doted on you only a week before, hands cradling you gently as his lips brushed your soft skin singing low lullabies to your unborn babe.

“Elain was at the River House earlier,” Rhys had dropped her there with a rushed explanation before disappearing again. “She feels awful, she wanted to come and apologise.” Feyre wasn’t sure why she brought up Elain, as soon as the words were out of her mouth she realised she’d made a grave miscalculation.

“I don’t care what Elain wants right now Feyre.” The temperature in the room plummeted as you finally turned to look at her. For a moment the air in the room thinned and Feyre struggled against the pressure of the vacuum that forced her to exhale. As quickly as it came the atmosphere in the room returned to normal and she sucked in a shaky breath through her teeth.

“I know, I know. I didn’t mean it like that.” Feyre tried to keep her voice low and soothing, pinned under your gaze as she edged closer, reaching out to place an open palm on your arm. “Madja’s with him now, she says that all this is to be expected. When Rhys spoke to her earlier she said these things usually resolve themselves with time.” Your thumb traced gentle circles on your swollen belly.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a little short on that right now.” The anger in your tone was undermined by the tears threatening to spill. Realising there wasn’t anything she could say Feyre moved to pull your body against her own. Arms encircling you in a comforting embrace, she rubbed her fingers between your shoulder blades. You moved to hold her back, resting your face in the space where her neck met her shoulder as you let the tears fall. “What am I going to do?” Your voice was thin and watery, in the time Feyre had known you she’d never heard you speak with so little conviction.

“We’re going to figure this out.” She pulled away slightly and clasped your face between her hands, forcing you to meet her gaze. “I promise. You have all of us, you’re not alone in this. We’ll do everything we can for you, both of you.” Nodding you sniffed, pulling away. Feyre let you go as you turned your attention back out to the window, eying the gilded disc of the sun as it rose across the Valaris skyline.

“I’m heading to the House of Wind,” Feyre continued to observe you as you tracked the ascent. “Would you like to come?” You moved closer to the window. On the opposite side of the city you could see the grand mountain range and it’s carved residence. Through the morning mist blanketing the base a large, winged figure rose, angling to land on one of the balconies.

“I don’t think I can look at him right now.” Feyre acquiesced her desire to push you to come with her.

Azriel

After Madja had left Rhys with strict instructions regarding Azriel’s rehabilitation over the next couple of days, he’d supported his brother’s weight while they made slow progress to the bathroom. Azriel’s limbs felt stiff, uncharacteristically uncoordinated and he concentrated on remaining upright and shuffling one foot in front of the other.

Steam rose from the bath the House had prepared, swirling to meet the shadows that seeped down his arm as Azriel braced one hand on the edge of the tub. Using the other he edged the loose cotton trousers down over his thighs until they pooled at his feet. Fingers tugged at the cotton on his abdomen to find purchase, loosening and unwinding until the bandaging fell away to reveal an angry pink scar, jagged and stark against tanned skin.

“Want me to wash your back?” Rhys shot him a cheeky grin, but the mirth in his voice didn’t reach his eyes. Azriel appreciated the effort, this small attempt at normalcy. He shot his brother an obscene gesture before raising one leg to step into the tub, thigh muscles twitching as he shifted into the hot water. Using his arms to brace his weight he started to lower himself in, descending too quickly they struggled to hold him up causing a wave of bathwater to soak the floor. Azriel sunk under the warmth of the water, allowing it to soothe him.

“We’ll be in the dining room, come down when you’re ready.” His shadows had already informed him of Cassian and Nesta’s arrival, he assumed the rest of his family wouldn’t be far behind. Azriel nodded, avoiding Rhys’ gaze, pretending to study the shadows roiling over the water. In the mirror on the opposite wall, Azriel watched Rhys’ reflection as he opened his mouth as if to speak, no sound coming out as he considered, before closing it again and disappearing through the doorway.

Dressing had been an arduous process, though no longer stiff and painful his muscles had a weakness that he wasn’t used to. After struggling into the tight second skin of his fighting leathers he felt more himself. Finding truth-teller laid out in its holster on the dresser he strapped it to his thigh. His shadows, now a fuller cohort with the effects of the bloodbane leaving his system, were a thick tangle of moving darkness, sour and agitated in solidarity with their master.

Despite his interrogation, they hadn’t offered him any useful information, it caused Azriel great frustration when they took the stance of purposeful vagueness or outright ignored him. He sent them ahead down the corridor to scout out the dining room only to be turned around by a shield of impenetrable night. Whatever conversations were going on in that room, Rhys did not want him privy to them. His own family, keeping secrets. It left a bad taste in Azriel’s mouth, a sense of betrayal in his chest that sat next to the empty feeling he was growing accustomed to, a limb he didn’t know he had until it was missing.

Azriel reached the closed door, the thick night dissipating as he progressed, the sound from beyond the door returned but he heard no voices. Just the sound of breathing and the clink of porcelain as someone set a cup on a saucer. Rhys must have informed them of his impending arrival. He pushed the door open and took in his family.

Cassian, Nesta, Rhys, Feyre and Amren all sat at the table which had been used for family dinners before the River House was built. Their faces were carefully blank as he assessed them all. Mor was notably absent, information Azriel tucked away, either her efforts across the continent were still ongoing or some other manner of business had her attention. He hadn’t expected to see Elain, not after her spectacular display of anger, but he couldn’t help the feeling of unease and disappointment it left in his gut.

“Finally, the invalid graces us with his presence. Took you long enough,” Cassian sent him an easy grin, arms folded across his stomach as he lounged in his chair. Azriel scowled in response which only made his brother’s smile wider. This had always been Cassian’s modus operadi, an invitation to be provoked into a physical outlet if that’s what was needed, thinly veiled under jibes he rarely meant at heart. For a moment, Azriel considered taking up the unspoken offer, if only to delay what was undoubtedly going to be an uncomfortable conversation.

“Azriel,” it was Feyre who spoke, offering him a small smile, “Why don’t you join us?” Azriel understood that it wasn’t an invitation and slid into the seat next to Amren. His eyes met Nesta’s who sat across from him. They’d reached a tentative understanding, perhaps it could be considered a friendship, in the months he could recall. He remembered her joy at receiving the solstice gift he’d gotten for her, the resulting rare display of physical affection.

Looking at her now, face resolute and stony with blazing anger behind her eyes, barely contained, he had the sense that something had damaged the dynamic between them. He purposely looked away, instead fixing his eyes on Rhys; then Feyre. He waited for someone to speak, break the almost oppressive silence. He half-expected it to be Cassian again, with some throwaway comment or badly timed joke, but it was Rhys who cleared his throat.

“Azriel, thank you for joining us.” Azriel raised an eyebrow at the formality but stayed silent. “There are some matters we need to discuss.”

“Clearly.” He trailed his eyes over his family again, they all seemed uncomfortable to be here, to be around him. As if they knew he was going to react badly to whatever they were going to say. Rhys let his remark go, seeming resolute to power ahead with the conversation.

“What you showed me of your recent memories,” he continued, eyes drifting to Feyre who gave him an encouraging smile. “Lead us to believe that the memory loss is more extensive than we originally feared. Azriel, what you showed me – it was more than five years ago.” Azriel barely seemed to move under the scrutiny of their gazes. He’d lost years of his life. In the grand scheme of his immortality it felt like nothing, but looking at his family and realising that they lived in a future he didn’t remember left him feeling sick.

Azriel tried to find some rational thought to hold onto as he spiralled. He fell back onto the only thing he could rely on, his role as the Night Court’s spymaster. “Was it the work of the Queens? The attack?”

“The debacle on the continent has been resolved, for the most part. It was only supposed to be a routine investigation, nothing too strenuous or time-consuming given your current…” Rhys paused. “Situation. You were gathering information on some remaining rebellious factions, we didn’t anticipate that you would meet that kind of resistance, that they would have the resources. We’re sorry Az, we never meant for any of this to happen.”

“And what exactly is my current situation, Rhysand? What do you have to apologise for?” Azriel’s voice was low and dangerous. Amren snorted at the display, reaching for her wine glass. He expected a scathing remark, but it never came as Rhys shot her a look, and in a rare moment of deference she adhered as he implored her to remain silent.

“The female that was in the house earlier-“

“The thief.” Azriel interrupted.

“No,” Feyre cut in before Rhys could continue. “Her name is Y/N, and she’s your mate Az. The situation,” Feyre seemed to find describing it as such distasteful, but she continued. “Is that she is pregnant, with your child. That’s why we’re sorry, if we knew how dangerous it would be we never would have asked you to go alone.”

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Three brothers for three sisters, that was what Azriel had always thought about, always dreamed. The cauldron blessing him with undeniable proof that, though not blood-related, he and his brothers were three equal parts in the eyes of fate. He’d wanted that, seeing how happy they were in their relationships filled him with bone-deep envy. Observing from the sidelines as Rhys and Feyre prepared for the new addition to their family with vigour, as Cassian and Nesta had danced around each other in slowly shrinking circles. The other halves of their souls. That should have been him and Elain, never mind the mockery of the bond Vanserra thought they had. Azriel knew it was a mistake, a sick joke that would all work out in the end because there was no other way it could be. Three brothers for three sisters.

He wanted it all. A house on the outskirts of the city, filled with the sweet scent of Elain’s baking and made beautiful by the flowers she cultivated in their gardens. Filled with sunlight and happiness, somewhere to retreat from the darkest corners of his life. He’d dreamed of that life in the secret hours of the dawn, of a future where the issues of Feyre’s pregnancy had been resolved and perhaps their home was filled with the noise of children.

Now he had awoken in a future where he had those things, a mate, an unborn babe on the way, only to find it wasn’t with whom he desired. Elain, whom he had woken in this world for, who had been so tender in his first moments of consciousness, who had kissed him back. Azriel couldn’t imagine choosing to build that life with anyone else.

A/N - Phew! I know, the angst was real. I promise it will get better, but there's definitely a long way to go here! Part three is in the works, not sure when it will be finished but hopefully it won't be too long.

Tag list: @kalulakunundrum @impossibelle @we-were-beautiful @going-through-shit @mulansaucey @sv0430 @naturakaashi @amygdtjhddzvb @airstrip-0 @acourtofsmutandstarlight @myheartfollower @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @valencia-rou @amysangel @furiousbooklover @phoenixgurl030 @imnotsiriusyouare @i-am-infinite

#azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #elain x azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar series #acotar x reader

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a-clown-with-wings · 4 months

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🍉🍉🍉 VERY IMPORTANT!!! 🍉🍉🍉

I know that I usually post about silly robots and my OCs, but for once, this isn't a silly fun post about my hobbies.

Palestine and Gaza are still very much under attack, and their people need our help in order to survive the malicious and hate filled violence that's claiming lives every day. It hurts to know that literal children are being torn apart and being separated from their parents, their homes for nothing. There is no reason for any of this to be happening, but since it still is, it's never too late to take action and help out. Whether it's donating to Palestinian charities to help with removing them from the hostilities being forced on their homes, or if you simply repost this post, you are helping with spreading a message and are bring us one step closer to helping these people and free them from this one sided war. It's not over until they are safe.

For those with money to spare, here are some charities to donate to in order to help out:

Every penny counts, so don't dwell on only donating so much. One dollar is better than nothing.

Slight relation: Companies that support Israel.

(I get that it's impossible to boycott everything, but even reducing the amount of money you give to these companies is spreading a message.)

KFC

McDonald’s

Starbucks

Pizza Hut

Dominos

Kit Kat

Burger King

Häagen-Daz

Costa Coffee

Aroma

Subway

Nestle

Walmart

Hardee

Mars

Pepsi

Coca Cola

Minute Maid

Fanta

Carnation

Smarties

Nerds

Laffy Taffy

SweeTarts

Alpo

Lipton

Tropicana

Dasani

Perrier

Sprite,

Twix

Nike

Addidas

Puma

L’Oréal

Estée Lauder

American Eagle

The Body Shop

Tommy Hilfiger

Lancôme

Ralph Lauren

Johnson and Johnson

Chanel

Kyle Cosmetics

Garnier

Olay

Clinique

Urban Decay

Neutrogena

LifeBuoy

Wix

Motorola

Nido

Giorgio Armani

Victoria Secret

Maybelline

NYX

Revlon

Siemens

Skims

Goop

Marks & Spencer

Smartwater

Aveda

Tom Ford

Covergirl

Nesquik

Papa Johns

MAC

The Ordinary

Disney

Bobbi Brown

Honest

Sabra

Nokia

Nido

Walls

Tom Ford Beauty

Summer Fridays

Soda Stream

Ahava

Keter

Strauss

Danone

Tivall

AXA

Teva Pharmaceuticals

Airbnb

TripAdviser

Again, our society relies on most of these companies, so I'm not expecting you to just live off of air and hopes, but consider your favorite brands you like to shop from and think to yourself if it's worth the harm they are causing. Remember, at the end of the day, they only care about your money, not you.

#free palestine #free gaza #palestine #israel #help palestine #putting this under my main tags to spread the word #mxiize #fnaf #fnaf security breach #fnaf daycare attendant #dca community #sun fnaf #fnaf dca #digital aritst #donations #donate if you can #please donate #spread the word

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tadpoles-and-daydreams · 4 months

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A ramble on imposter syndrome and the accessibility of witchcraft

So, I’ve been thinking. I think a lot in case you haven’t noticed. Specifically, I’ve been thinking about the major imposter syndrome I’ve been feeling lately in regards to this blog. TL;DR is at the bottom of this post.

People have been, occasionally, sending me asks requesting my opinion on things/how I do things/what I know about XYZ topic. If you are one of these people, I promise I’m not vagueposting about you in particular- in fact, I love these questions! They’re so fun to get and they actually make me sit and think sometimes, or even encourage me to write out something that I’ve been meaning to for my book of shadows. Genuinely, they're wonderful asks to receive. These questions have made me confront something, however; my blog is still small, but some people actually like what I write and value my opinion even if just a little.

I feel like a mimic hiding in the witchcraft community. I feel like, were people to truly understand my experiences, they would want to “expose” me for knowing so little.

So I sat down with those feelings and turned it over in my head and I’ve come to a conclusion. The fact is, I don’t do research. At least- not what I think of when people talk about research. My "research" consists of the occasional rabbit hole I go down, one and two halves of different books I never finished under my belt, what I see scrolling through various social medias, and conversations I've had with other witches. I check to make sure I'm not stepping on the toes of any closed practices- in fact, that's what most of my energy goes to when it comes to research. This isn't a complaint; I'd much rather know that my craft isn't appropriative.

But I don’t know much about mythology, even that of the deities I work with. I don't even remember the holidays and what they're for. I thought Nyx was an Egyptian deity until like four months ago because I'd just heard her name in passing as a child and had never looked into the mythology... Even though I mainly work with the pantheon she belongs to. Y’all, I’ve done like three spells that I remember. My book of shadows is a messy disaster and I love it but it's got so little information in it, because I rarely write things down. Most resources (especially mythology resources) are academically worded or difficult to read for me personally, and all of these things feel like secrets I have to guard with my life because if I were to ever say them aloud, people would know I'm a fraud.

Today I've come to the conclusion that that is, in fact, absolute bullshit.

Maybe it's not, maybe this post will make some people really upset, but in my practice it's bullshit. All of the above is a result of my ADHD and the fact that I am nothing if not a hands-on learner. My craft is mostly my own experiences because that's how my whole life is; I learn by doing. My ideal learning style is sitting with another autistic person whose special interest is whatever I'm learning about and just talking for five hours, but if that's not something I can do, puzzling it out myself is the next best thing. That's what I've been doing ever since I felt had a basic foundation for my craft. Hell, even before I had a foundation I was putting my own experiences into my craft because "Well that rule just doesn't fucking vibe with me."

This post is mostly for me, but partially for anyone who feels similar. We are not broken or doing witchcraft/paganism wrong. We are simply what happens when the kid who could never do homework ends up practicing the "religion/spirituality that comes with homework." Witchcraft and paganism, in my experience, is far from accessible when it comes to the typical image of it. UPG is what makes it accessible. So yes, my practice is heavily UPG, and I don't do as much research as I think people have assumed. But I'm going to let go of the idea that I'm a fraud, because frankly I know enough about witchcraft to have supported my practice this whole time and my deities haven't smited me yet so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TL:DR:

Fuck the rules, I don't do much research. I've researched the "basics" and what I need to so I'm not stepping on any toes of closed practices, but people seem to think I know way more than I actually do. I've felt like I was lying this whole time but frankly witchcraft just isn't accessible to someone with my flavor of auDHD, so my craft relies heavily on UPG and I've decided that I'm not broken or wrong for that and neither is anyone else. I'm tired of seeing myself as an imposter just because I make my practice doable for me.

#I feel weird about posting this but Loki seems thrilled #of course he is though #“fuck the rules” energy is their whole deal #Frog's writing #shit did I use caps in my previous posts?#Frog's Writing #frog's writing #there we go now it doesn't matter lol #witchcraft #witchblr #pagan witch #pagan #witch community #paganism #deity work #eclectic pagan #paganblr #witch blog

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disasterchild-666 · 5 months

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I haven't posted any drawings lately so here's some dressed-up disaster twins <3

#its fun drawing turtles in dresses #I love them lots!!#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #disaster twins #rise donnie #rise leo #my art <3 #drawings by nyx

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todreamadream · 2 months

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Gwynriel One-Shot: Hair Disaster

Azriel walked into the training ring a little earlier than usual to set up for a new exercise he thought of last night. He knew it would hex the pretty Priestess and it was with that thought he fell into slumber, dreaming of her bottomless teal eyes.

He expected the cool chill in the air and the foggy morning, he expected to see Gwyn who typically comes early to get ahead, but he did not expect to see his brother kneeling behind the teal-eyes Valkyrie. Cassian’s hands were entangled in knots within her coppery strands, his head bent over the mess. He was muttering curses under her breath and Gwyn was covering her laugh at him struggling.

‘Well, well, you never told me you were a hair stylist Cass. If I knew sooner I would’ve booked an appointment.’

His brother continued and ignored him. Rude.

‘Shadowsinger, run while you still can. Cassian here has been at this since the sun rose and he’s still so terrible.’

That got a reaction out of the infamous General, ‘Hey! I’ve done this before, and been quite good at it. It’s your hair that’s the problem. It’s too long and thick and there’s just so much of it.’

‘So, it’s my fault that I have luscious locks? You never should have suggested braiding it if you knew that it was too advanced for you.’

‘It’s my first time doing your hair Gwynnie. It will go better the more I practice!’

She looked horrified at the thought, Az couldn’t help but grin at the thought of this becoming a usual thing.

‘For Cauldran’s sake Cassian, I said NO, N - O. I told you to stay away from Gwyn’s hair, you can’t do complex braids until you leave the beginner status.’ Nesta scolds her mate and approaches them to undo the mess he created.

Cassian looks sheepish as he tries to remove his fingers from Gwyn’s hair, ‘What is everybody doing here? Isn’t training cancelled?’

‘Wow Cassian, this is why you wanted to braid my hair on the roof? Because Nesta forbade you to do hers and you thought you could torture me in peace?’ Gwyn raises an eyebrow and turns her head to the side to glare at his brother who in turn smiles adorably.

‘Sorry Gwynnie, but I had to get my practice in somehow. You can untangle the rest on your own right? Nesta and I are going to the Town House to babysit Nyx.’

‘You just wait until I get my hands on your hair.’ the General smiles at her threat and gives her a peck on the cheek. Nesta gives Gwyn a look, one Az can’t decipher but she seems to understand the message because she smiles and rolls her eyes at her sister. With that weird interaction, the two of them leave, Nesta’s screaming can be heard as Cass laughs.

‘I’m going to have to cut off all this hair that Cassian tangled up’ Now this was a truly horrifying thought, Az could not let that happen. Not in his watch.

Azrie heads back to the House and gestures to Gwyn to follow him, ‘Berdara don’t be a quitter. You’ve thrived over feats more worrisome than this.’

‘Shadowsinger, I am a woman. There is nothing more stress-inducing than a bad hair day.’

‘Really? There is nothing more troublesome than your hair?’

‘Well, other than your face of course.’

‘I have it on good authority that I have a very nice face’

‘Who’s authority? And your best friend the High Lord doesn’t count.’ cheeky girl.

He turns to face her, ‘Take a good look at these handsome features Berdara.’

‘I’m looking’, her eyes flick over his face.

‘And?’

‘And…am I supposed to be impressed?’ yes, she was meant to be in awe of his beauty. Az couldn’t tell if this was a ploy or not. Did she genuinely not think he was attractive? He’s never had that problem before, he never needed to ask for female attention. It’s a little vain but he never had to flirt with someone, not like Rhys and Cassian did.

‘So you’re telling me that if you saw me while you were at a restaurant or at a bar, you wouldn’t notice me.’

She huffs, ‘I never said that. I would most definitely notice the broody bat sulking in a corner.’ He tries to hide the smile threatening to split his face in half. She probably would notice him, and offer him a milkshake. And if he said no she would dump it over his head.

‘If I saw you in public I would definitely notice you too.’

‘Yeah?’ her face has the slightest hue of red on the apples of her cheeks and the tip of her nose. If he didn’t know any better he would think she was blushing. Unfortunately, he did know better and her face was probably reacting to the crisp dawn air.

‘Yeah. The rat’s nest on your head would be pretty hard to ignore.’

She narrows her teal eyes, ‘Now you’ve taken things too far.’

‘Gwyn, by tonight you’re hair will be returned to its normal flowing and untangled self. That’s a promise.’ Her eyes widened in surprise, probably at how seriously he was taking this. They arrived in front of Azriel’s room and he opened the door heading towards the bathing chamber.

He wishes he had time to dust and scrub at his room before she entered it. He feels self-conscious as her gaze moves around his room, the small bookshelf, the big bed covered in black satin sheets, the closed curtains, and the big rack of weapons along an entire wall on the opposite side of his bed.

She stays silent as he drags a chair in front of the mirrored sink. He motions for her to come sit in the high seat and turns the tap on to fill the bowl.

‘Are you planning on fixing my hair on your own?’ she questions him.

‘Yes. Sit down and close your eyes.’ she listens to him and he moves to grab his shampoo when the House drops several products on his head.

‘Ouch. This is why you should be nicer to the House Shadowsinger. Then maybe it’ll stop attacking you.’

He raises an eyebrow, ‘The House attacks everyone with the exception of you, Nesta, and Emerie.’

‘Fair enough’

He turns on the faucet and begins to lather the shampoo in his hands before finally touching her hair. He massages her scalp with his hands and he knows he’s not imagining the satisfied sighs coming out of her mouth. His heart is racing and he does his best to savour this moment, to be satisfied with this memory of running his hands through her delicious coppery hair. The scent of the shampoo is so familiar, he smells it from Gwyn every day and he can’t resist inhaling deep breaths to take in all the lilac and ocean-breezed aroma.

Far too soon her hair is back to its natural gorgeous state. Gwyn’s eyes are still closed and she’s humming some indecipherable tune under her breath.

‘Gwyn, I’m done now. You can open your eyes.’ That was the wrong thing to say. Her eyes flash open and he’s in direct eye contact with an ocean of glimmering teal.

‘Thanks, Shadowsinger. Anytime you need I’ll return the favour.’

‘Berdara, I doubt I would need help detangling my hair.’ He gestures towards his much shorter hair compared to hers.

She smiles and his heart goes into overdrive, ‘Az, I meant I’ll be happy to cut your hair anytime you need.’

‘You know how to cut hair?’ They’re walking to his door and he wishes he could just keep her with him in his room with his things. Wishes they didn’t have to depart ways so soon.

She replies to his earlier statement, ‘I know how to do a lot of things.’ And she winks. She fucking winks. He was light-headed all of a sudden, she couldn’t possibly be flirting with him. The Priestess is a know-it-all and a smartass, of course, she knows a lot of things. All Azriel thought about that night was how soon it was to get a haircut from the Priestess. And how it would feel to bask in her warm presence once again. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

Notes: Thanks for reading! The grammar isn’t the best I am aware. But I wrote the first portion of this one-shot so long ago and I needed to just hurry up and complete it or I never would have posted this. Should I do a part 2 of Gwyn giving Azriel a haircut?

#gwyneth berdara #azriel acotar #gwynriel #nesta acotar #cassian acotar #pro gwyn #gwyn x azriel

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nilobunny · 5 months

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As mentioned before, Echo is part of a special rescue team called Crescent Wings who are employed by Adrienne's family who founded the beach town. Not only to they save others from disaster, monitor weather conditions of the beach town, and come to the call of civilian help, Echo (and a few others) also team up with dream and sleep specialists Nyx and Aziza from the strange nightmare condition that plagues the town, flying through dreams to guide the dreamers back to the waking world.

Echo is prideful and dedicated to her career, and has a heart of pure gold. She has no problem risking her life to save others, but never at the cost of her teammates or anyone else. Many of her lineage have gone from this world with such ideals, and she lives life following in their footsteps. On the same side of the coin, off duty she can be found partying safely and always having a good time, loving life as well.

made for the monthly patreon art! Please support me there! https://www.patreon.com/nilobunny

#nilobunny #patreon #pokemon #furry #latias #echo

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writerfae · 3 months

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Wow, I wrote something. And it’s even canon!

Well, of course it won’t be in the story word for word, but it’s a scene that somehow like this will be included. Yay!

Takes place after Aiden got freed from the Knights.

The night was full of stars and the surface of the starlight lake, too, was littered with the sparkling reflections of the same bright lights that decorated the dark sky.

Aiden sighed as he lowered himself deeper into the water, the cool sensation a boon for his heated skin.

It felt good to wash off the dirt from the last couple days. And to get a few minutes of quiet to clear his head.

He had always hated to be alone, but after the last few hours he almost found himself missing it.

His head was brimming with all the informations he was confronted with, with thoughts of his mother, his brother, of the insanity he found himself in.

Never would he have expected such a mess when he followed Halea into the other realm to find Henry.

Find him he did, but he also found so much more. It was almost too much to handle.

Aiden wanted to run. He genuinely planned to do so, to leave everything behind and go home to hide from the truth he learned.

And then the Knights had captured him and everything changed yet again.

With what he knew now, he couldn’t possibly leave. He had to warn Henry. To help him and the others.

He lifted his hand and let the water slip through his fingers. The water made his skin sparkle just like the stars above.

Whether he liked it or not, he was now right in the middle of this whole disaster and he had his part to fulfill. People were relying on him to help and stop Morena.

Only he could do it. After all, the sword had chosen him. After all, it was in his blood.

He stared at his fingers, at the starlight on his skin, then he clenched his hand into a fist.

Yes, he would stop this. He’ll warn Henry, stop the madness and when all of this was done, the two of them could talk.

When they survived, whispered a voice in his head, but Aiden decided to ignore it.

He wasn’t alone anymore. He stood a chance. They stood a chance. If only they worked together.

“Aiden,” a voice called to him. As he looked over his shoulder, he could see Talon standing at the lake side.

Moonlight caught itself in his light hair and made it shine almost like a saint’s halo, which was an irony Aiden didn’t miss out on.

He slowly rose from the water, making his way over to the other boy.

When the water barely reached his navel, he stopped, suddenly realizing that he was very much naked underneath the water surface.

Not that Talon would have noticed it if Aiden had broken the rules of modesty, since he still refused to look at him.

Aiden wondered when he’ll ever have the courage to meet him eye to eye.

“You should come,” Talon said, eyes lowered, his voice barely loud enough so Aiden could hear.

“Get some rest before we make our way back to court. Nyx says we are safe here, but we should make sure to leave before sunrise if we want to be there before them.”

Aiden nodded. “I will. Give me a second to uh…” he looked down at himself. “get dressed.”

Talon didn’t say anything to that. He just nodded quickly, before turning around a bit too fast and making his way back to the bonfire.

Did Aiden only imagine it, or did the fae’s ears seem a little red in the light of the moon?

He shook that thought off and made his way to the water’s edge to gather his clothes.

Talon was right, he’d need some rest. They had a long day ahead.

tag list: @andifthestarsweretodie @bloodlessheirbyjacques @bluehourskyeli @deadlycupid @dustylovelyrun @justafrogandherumbrella @ladywithalamp @magic-is-something-we-create @myhusbandsasemni @my-cursed-prince @phantasticdomains @rhikasa @sleepy-night-child @soupopoireau @theguywithnonickname @vampywriter @vsnotresponding @writing-is-a-martial-art (if you want to be added or removed from the tag list let me know!)

#I was struck with a hint of inspiration last night apparently #this is the result #Aiden wanted a bath I guess xD #writer speaks #writeblr #wip: the knights of the alder #writing #my writing

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theoperativeif · 1 year

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The First Generation

The First Generation of Operatives... (Would love to hear your thoughts on this list ;) )

001 "The First"

Redacted

002 "The Second"

Redacted

003 "Hex"

Cheerful and hyper-violent 003, or Hex, as her siblings have named her is a master of deception. Utilizing a mix of traps, holograms, and stealth armor, she has already shown herself as a dangerous foe, even against her siblings. One of the oldest Operatives, she has also adopted a big sister role to some of her more outcast kin. She displays affection by utilizing ambush hugs and gift-giving.

004 "Shrike"

Unlike most of his siblings, 004 was nicknamed Shrike by the staff here at the lab for his propensity to impale his opponents on premade hooks and left to die or decompose slowly. Competitive and energetic, he has developed a friendly rivalry with 003, whom he always seeks to upstage and harass at every opportunity.

005 "Ari"

Redacted

006 "Mamba"

Smaller and much shyer, similar to his younger sister 013, "Mamba" earned his name from his siblings much later than the others. Weaker and less adept at combat than his siblings, 006 was assigned to frontline duty, hoping to become a good soldier. On the frontlines, sporting light operative combat armor Mamba began using various poisons along with his weapons, earning him a reputation similar to his more prominent and more adept kin.

007 "Stalker"

A hunter, first and foremost, 007 is an expert tracker, often paired with the Heartbreaker Agency and assigned to hunt down their targets. Cautious and slow to trust, he mostly keeps to himself, though he has often been seen spending time with 008. He was last seen nine months after the disaster at Paradise, attempting to track down an unknown target in Commonwealth space...

008 "Nightingale"

Loyal to a fault, 008 has shown herself to be as talented at saving lives as taking them. Always carrying around a medical kit, 008 is constantly on the alert to help her fellow soldiers. Her dedication to those around her has come at a cost, as she will throw herself between those she cares about and danger. She is littered with old scars, including a robotic leg and metal plating in her back. Devastated at the loss she experienced on Paradise, Nightingale or Gale has become a shallow husk of her former self, shutting herself off from others, including her close friend 007.

Currently under observation at the lab.

009 "Mad Dog/ Maximillian"

One would not expect the words of a gentleman to fit the large and equally terrifying Operative. But 009, despite being an expert in messy close-quarters combat, is similarly interested in reading and studying the arts. Assigned as Prince Vasily's guard, the two are unusually close.

010 "Nyx"

Redacted

011 "Ceto"

011 or Ceto, is an expert in aquatic warfare, sporting a unique bright blue combat suit capable of diving into the depths of the galaxy's most dangerous water environments. Relatively friendly and calm, Ceto is loyal to the people of the Empire, above all else. She always professionally presents herself, making it easy for her to integrate with military personnel.

012 "Griffin"

Charismatic and manipulative, Griffin is as power-hungry as he is cruel. Appearing as an average human, 012 has shown themselves capable of manipulating those around him. A smooth voice and innocent smile have earned him many allies in the military, with most viewing him as a grand hero of the Empire. His siblings and those at the lab know the true face hidden behind his hero façade.

013 "The Doll/Little sister"

One of the smaller Operatives, 013, is a proficient hunter and tracker, preferring to let the enemy come to her. She sets traps and carefully scouts positions to fight in. Sporting an oddly flashy personality despite being one of few words she does like to show off when her older brothers and sisters are around, as well as collecting pieces of armor to add to her own, giving off a strange mix of color and armor types. Her armor possesses a form of audio mimicry, allowing her to mimic the voices of her opponents.

014 "The General"

Towering over most on the battlefield, 014 appears as a large shining knight with bulky, heavy armor and a large sword. Charismatic and friendly, this honorable knight has been given the rare honor of receiving an official rank within the army. He has an odd friendship with 015.

015 "Wendigo"

Seeking to finally create a true equal to 001 and 002, the Emperor forced 'Mother' to recreate the original recipe used on the first two. The result was 015. Sporting advanced close-quarter combat armor, this Operative was given the callsign Wendigo by the military and deployed to areas devoid of friendly forces. 015 has exhibited concerning tendencies. When first deployed, they modified their armors mask to have a sort of robotic jaw, which they use to 'consume' their victims ritualistically.

015 is affectionate to those they deem as worthy while mostly ignoring others as if they don't even exist.

#the operative #if: the operative #interactive fiction #writing #lore #if characters #operatives

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