Tumgik
#phantom thorns
loraliewritesthings · 6 months
Text
LUNAR CHRONICLES BUT ON THEIR EQUIVALENT OF HOT ONES
Cinder does pretty well, excluding the creative string of swear words she comes up with. Finishes all ten wings.
Kai almost quits at 5. The only thing keeping him going is that Thorne quit at six and Kai knew that if he quit at 5 he would never hear the end of it. Gets to da bomb and then is like, Well I mine as well finish this.
Scarlet managed to finish all ten wings but is like beet red in the face. Has significant trouble answering questions
Fun fact, canines can't taste spice and neither can Wolf. Cleans his plate and drinks from da bomb bottle (cause Scarlet is watching) gives himself a stomach ache
Cress. Poor sweet cress. She ate all ten wings, crying, but she did it
Unlike Cress Thorne only got to 6. Talked some big game before hand. Will never live it down.
Winter just straight up doesn't mind the heat. Like this girl ate da bomb with a smile on her pretty little face. Bought a bottle to take with her
Jacin was stoic. So very very stoic. I mean he had the discipline to do it but he also answered in 1 to 3 word answers, also his ears turned red. Told everyone it wasn't that spicy.
248 notes · View notes
tastefulbean · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media
Thorns! Valerie
Full ref of this au coming soon 👀
239 notes · View notes
phantomstatistician · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Fandom: South Park
Sample Size: 1,093 stories (top); 21,780 stories (bottom)
Source: AO3
Note: The top chart contains fics from 2009 until 10/27/2015. The bottom chart contains fics from 10/28/2015 - present. Do not compare colors between charts.
337 notes · View notes
elainemg97 · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
🥀Elriel x Phantom of the Opera
ACOTAR Halloween Series Part 2
“In your mind you’ve already succumbed to me
Dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me
Now you are here with me, no second thoughts
You’ve decided, decided
… Past the point of no return
No backward glances
Our games of make-believe are at an end
… Past all thought of if or when
No use resisting
Abandon thought and let the dream descend…”
Here they are: my two Roman Empires 🥹
111 notes · View notes
arlathavellan · 12 days
Text
Phantom Pains | II
Tumblr media
Fandom: ACOTAR
Pairing: Azriel x Reader
Reader: she/her, (3/4-High Fae, 1/4-Tartera), Y/N used
Genre: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Word Count: 2.8k
Something is... wrong. Time missing, memories missing, thoughts missing. Wondering where things both big and small disappeared to, like the dress you were working on or even the past seventeen hours of your day. Something is very wrong, and the thought seems to slip your mind as soon as it comes. || Azriel has been a part of your life for years now, and has been courting you since the fall of Hybern. Only, things don't seem to be as simple as you'd both assumed they'd be. It seems someone thought you were the weak link-- the easy ticket to infiltrating the inner circle through its spymaster. And maybe you are.
|| Previous Part | Next Part (wip) | Masterlist ||
While there hadn’t been a repeat incident, you never could remember what happened during that near hour you had been standing in the street. The next few weeks passed by like a fog, and Azriel was more dutiful than ever when walking you home, even when you assured him you were fine.
Though, of course, he had his responsibilities. Inevitably, he was going to be called in for a mission that would pull him away from you. Which was how you found yourself in this situation.
"Morrigan," you greet, dipping your head slightly.
She takes the basket from your arms just as easily as your Illyrian, a lighthearted laugh lighting up the street. "Please, it's just Mor. Especially since you're going to be seeing a lot more of me."
That piqued your interest. "Oh? Is Azriel alright?"
"He's alright, it's just work. Duty calls." Her expression gives away nothing to the contrary.
The walk is filled with small talk, mostly carried by Mor. You'd only met her twice before, but she carried herself as if the two of you had been friends for years. It was reassuring in a way, keeping your mind off the melancholy that followed you when Azriel was absent. Even your shadows seemed in a good mood, dancing at your feet and twirling around your legs as you walked.
The conversation drifted into stories about the three Illyrians, mildly embarrassing stories you were certain you'd never get from the shadowsinger himself.
"Of course, Cassian would deny everything if you were to ask," Mor jokes, "though Az might come clean if you bat your eyes at him."
You can't stop the giggle from bubbling in your throat, bringing your hand up instead to cover your mouth. "And the High Lord just… let that happen?" You ask, finding your voice.
She sends you a near-conspiratorial look. "Let? Rhys planned it."
This time she joins you in your laughter, and you can't help but wonder the last time you'd felt such a lightness in your chest. As your shop door comes into view, you clear your throat to calm yourself.
"Well, here I am," you say.
Mor adjusts the basket in her arms, motioning for you to lead the way. You weren't too sure what to expect from the woman, but she slipped in easily as you held the door open for her, making her way to the back to set the basket down on your work table.
"Would you like some tea before you leave?" You can see her perk up, sending you a smile over her shoulder.
"I'd like that very much."
-----
The High Lord's cousin is easy company. She seems accustomed to carrying a conversation, and handles any lapses of silence with a careful grace. The look in her eyes, however, occasionally pricks the hairs on the back of your neck.
She's looking for something.
It makes sense, of course. You hadn't had many interactions with Azriel's family, and this was a casual enough situation to try and understand who you are. Even then, there was a nagging at the back of your mind, a feeling of something lurking in the shadows, trying to hide from her gaze.
Whatever her goal, she gives you a warm smile when her cup runs empty.
"I'll let you get some rest," she says, standing smoothly from her spot on your couch.
You rise as well to walk her to the door. "Thank you, for walking me home and keeping me company."
Mor's eyes soften, and her warm hands rest gently on your upper arms. "I do hope you can talk Azriel into bringing you around for dinner. I know everyone would love to officially meet you."
Heat rises to your face, and your shadows react in a swirl at your waist. The cold skin of the back of your hand is all the more apparent as you press it against your cheek, and she smiles at the gesture.
"Please, don't be afraid to let me know if you need anything." She finally lets go with a reassuring squeeze, making her way to the door.
Something in the back of your mind stirs, like a desperate hand reaching out for her from the darkness. But you simply smile with a hand raised in goodbye as she turns around, and it drops as the door shuts.
You find yourself very, very tired.
-----
The next day follows your usual routine as always. Amaria joining you shifted your schedule slightly, but every day still felt the same as the next.
"You know," you joke one evening as the two of you work on mending, "pretty soon I might have enough money to take a vacation. I should have hired another pair of hands sooner."
Amaria laughs, her hands ever steady despite the slight shake of her shoulders. "You wouldn't take a vacation even if you could. You'd miss working too much."
The smile that splits across your face is almost painful as you laugh with her. "I'm serious, Amaria. I'm going to pack a bag and pick a court. Maybe I'll go to Adriata and spend some time by the sea."
"And pick up some new fabrics while you're at it?" She asks. You look up in time to see your friend and co-worker roll her eyes with a slight smile, and a warmth blooms in your chest as she reads you like a book.
"Summer doesn't trade with us like they used to," you defend yourself. "They have beautiful fabric that you can layer easily—"
"—without bunching or overheating," she recites.
After less than a month, it was as if Amaria had been there forever. Her light and airy laughter echoes in your mind, and you wonder how you managed to do this all on your own the past decades.
She carefully folds the shirt she was working on before stacking it in the basket. "Are we doing deliveries tonight?"
Narrowly avoiding pricking yourself as you push your needle through the breeches you're mending, you nod in response. "We'll be closing earlier than usual, I promised Az I would be careful while he's gone."
"Oh?" Amaria says. "Is he away?"
A smile tugs at your lips as you think about him, your shadows twisting around your legs. "For the next few days, yes. Unfortunately, I can't keep him all to myself."
"I don't mind going home on my own if you'd like to be back before dark," she offers.
You shake your head as you tie off your thread. "Nonsense. He's a little overprotective, but I still know the city better than you. The last thing I need is to send you off into the night on your own."
Amaria laughs as she grabs her coat from its hanger on the wall. "Oh, of course not. How will you ever afford your vacation in Summer without your star employee."
Eyes shining in mirth, you shoot her a playfully scathing look. "Exactly! So you'd better keep yourself out of trouble and make us good money."
The two of you laugh, and she picks up her basket as you prepare your own.
The walk around Velaris is calming, especially as you go from the more populated areas to the more residential ones. Conversation with Amaria is light as ever, and you find yourself quietly appreciating the atmosphere of Velaris for most of the walk. You'd lived in Velaris most of your life, and you hoped she would come to love it as much as you did.
Though, of course, you couldn't fault her for the occasional melancholy that fell over her face when she was deep enough in thought. The Night Court was a very long way from Spring, and you couldn't imagine a shift like that. You wondered just how long she had been away from wherever she considered home.
As the two of you come up on her apartment complex, the light of the setting sun breaks through the buildings you're walking past and lights up her pristine braid like strands of copper wire. Her hair is long, the tail of her braid swinging at her hips, and you find yourself captivated by the motion.
You wait under the tree in the courtyard as she bids you good night at her door, and take a deep, steadying breath before adjusting the baskets on your arm and making your way home. For hundreds of years you lived in Velaris on your own, but Azriel seemed to sweep you off your feet in no time. It was like a crucial part of your day was missing if you didn't get to speak with him, as if he'd always been there.
Instead, you find yourself walking home alone.
The setting sun keeps you company, its dwindling warmth settling on your shoulder like a comforting hand. Knowing it won't be gone for some time, you let yourself walk slowly.
When you come up on the shop, a familiar face is waiting for you. She perks up as she notices you, raising a hand in greeting.
"Morrigan," you greet, dipping your head slightly.
Something flickers across her face as she lowers her hand, but it's quickly replaced with a smile. "Are you just coming back from deliveries?"
You raise your baskets slightly with a nod. "I wanted to walk Amaria home, so we left earlier than usual. Would you like to come in for tea?"
Mor seems to relax at the offer, readily agreeing and following you into the shop. Setting your baskets down on the table, you head into the kitchen to make some tea for you both.
"Azriel is due to be back tomorrow," Mor says, making herself comfortable on the stool beside your island counter. "It's almost a shame, one more day and it would have been Cassian's turn to keep an eye on you—he was really looking forward to it."
"I never would have considered that the Inner Circle of our great Court had so much time on their hands," you say lightheartedly, filling your kettle with water. "As much as I appreciate it, I haven't had another episode like that night."
Her voice is soft when she responds next, like she can sense the approach of a sensitive subject as you set the kettle on the burner. "If anything, it gives Azriel some peace of mind and the rest of us the chance to get to know you."
You falter as you open your tea cupboard. Gaze scanning each box, you lift and read labels looking for the container of your favorite evening tea. "That's odd…" you mumble to yourself.
Mor made an inquisitive hum, but you shook your head and grabbed a box of a similar blend to brew instead. "You say Azriel’s returning tomorrow; I assume his mission went well? He’s alright?"
“It did, and he is,” she responds happily, as vague as you expected. “I don’t know much he tells you about what he does—”
“Not much,” you interrupt before she can say more that she should. “I suppose he prefers it that way, and I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.”
Mor laughs lightly, before leaning over the counter to continue. “I hope you don’t take it personally. It’s for your own safety more than anything.”
A heavy fog weighs down on your mind as she continues to reassure you. You’d never doubted Azriel’s intentions in keeping his work secret from you, but for some reason hearing it now has a nagging feeling stirring in the back of your mind. He doesn’t trust you, the voice insists. You need to know. You need to know. The overwhelming sensation nearly drowns you, cut only by the whistling of the kettle. You take a few steadying breaths, blinking to clear your hazy sight as you prepare the tea.
“Are you alright?” Mor asks, concerned.
“Yes, of course. Just a bit tired.” A reassuring smile over your shoulder ends your response.
Though she doesn’t seem too convinced, she doesn’t press the issue. Instead, she redirects the conversation to something lighter. Court politics have never been your thing, but you can easily see how she was the third-in-command of your High Lord. Her presence is comforting, like a tether to the docks keeping you from being swept out into the waves.
As the night dwindles and you try to gather your thoughts, its as if you find one long-lost, shoved under a dusty shelf in your mind. “Oh, your dress!”
She startles at the outburst, but recovers smoothly. “My dress?”
"The dress you commissioned for Starfall! I should have it done by tomorrow night if you wouldn't mind staying for a fitting."
Her brows pinch as she examines your face, and you feel something dark stirring at the back of your mind. "My dress. For Starfall."
Your head tilts slightly as confusion settles in. "Yes, the one you asked for last month? It's felt like I haven't been making any progress on it, but it's nearly done now. Do you still want it?"
Anxiety builds in your chest, squeezing your heart tightly as you try and decipher the expression she's wearing. Suddenly, she's smiling again with her hands clasped in front of her. "Oh, of course! Do you think I could see it now?"
"Absolutely!" The shift in demeanor almost throws you off balance, but you manage to regain your professionalism and return a smile. You lead her back into your workshop, head spinning like you just got off a swing. The backs of your cold fingers press against your forehead as you try to ground yourself, counting the steps to the dress form.
"I wanted to get your input on how the bodice hangs," you start, lifting up the sheet covering the dress. "I know you mentioned you wanted a draping that was loose and flowy, but I was worried the fa—"
"—fabric might snag on my jewelry," she says, breathless.
You perk up as she finishes your concern. "Exactly!" As you turn to see her, however, the harrowed look on her face stops you in your tracks.
Her eyes trail the near-finished dress, and you feel a creeping dread as you clasp your hands together in front of your chest. "Do you… not like it?"
The silence that stretches between you has alarms sounding in your head, as if something horrible is about to happen. A voice in the back of your mind is screaming, cursing the dress, telling you to send her away, get her out now, it’s just a damn dress. Morrigan's gaze meets yours, and it feels as if you're made of stone. "Y/N, how long have you been working on this dress?"
"I… off and on since you ordered it. It isn't finished yet, I know it's—" her hands clasp onto your upper arms gently yet firmly, cutting off your rambling.
Her next question only serves to worsen the cacophony in your mind, your teeth gnashing as you sway on your feet. "How long ago did I order this dress?"
"About a month ago, I think?" Her hands tighten their grip, enough to keep you steady but not enough to hurt. Something about her expression is scaring you, something soft and scared that tells you something is very, very wrong.
“Y/N,” she says, quiet and gentle like talking to a spooked horse. “I need you to come with me. Right now.”
This isn’t working. We’ll try something else, you useless girl.
The pain hits you at once. Jaw clenching, knees buckling, eyes rolling back into your head as you slam your palms into your temples. Just barely, you can hear the sounds of her shouting something incoherent over the tidal wave of screeching in your head. It’s all encompassing, as if you were submerged in it. Something cold and hard supports your body, and you can vaguely make out the grey stone floor pressed into your cheek.
Dark shapes rush towards you, wrapped in a suffocating power you’d never experienced before. You can feel that tell-tale twist in your gut that came from the rare occasion Azriel would winnow with you in tow, and realize Mor had taken you away from the shop. One of the figures stoops down, though you're unable to focus your erratic gaze enough to see their face. A hand covers your eyes, and everything goes quiet. Nothing but your ragged breathing and heart pounding in your head. Then, the feeling of something requesting entry to the forefront of your mind.
Don’t be afraid, Y/N.
Fear grips you regardless as the same manner of voice fills your head as before. But instead of whispering from some dark corner, this one spoke plainly, as though it had no reason to hide. Your chest tightens, and all you can think of is Azriel. He had been so worried that something more had happened to you, but you had brushed off his concerns like always. What had you done?
“Please,” you manage, barely more than an exhale.
I can get them out, if you let me in.
The weight of consciousness leaves you as you succumb to the encroaching darkness.
I will be quick. Rest, Y/N. Azriel will be here when you wake.
----------
Am I just going to pretend it hasn't been about half a year since I posted part one? Yes, because this is about my fifth rewrite of the overarching plot. Thank you for your patience <3
TAGLIST (comment or message to be added/removed)
@pellucid-constellations @horneybeach1 @hyemishii
53 notes · View notes
aislingxyz · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
orbs :)
616 notes · View notes
foursaints · 3 months
Note
okay so we all know that barty is a little unsanitary, but how do we feel about phlebotomist!barty.... bc why do i feel like evan coming in to get his blood drawn and barty is thirsting over him while watching the blood leave his body (evans so dizzy after bc barty took out too much blood and barty has him sit down and eat something)
ok there was this ask from forever ago about evan regularly drawing barty’s blood for experiments & barty being zonked on blood loss 24/7 that is so canon to me…. but holy shit i never thought about REVERSING it you’re really onto something….
a dynamic where evan is formidable and ruthless as always but he’s still so pretty and frail, isn’t he? and if barty takes a few more vials of blood than medically necessary it’s for evan’s own good, because he needed someone to make him settle down anyway. and barty is there to sit him on a cot and feed him apple juice and crackers and keep the extra vials to himself. he tells himself he’s being caring but really he’s addicted to the sight of evan’s blood leaving his body and the dizzy helpless look evan gets…. how weak he goes for him… my GOD. is this insanely hot to anybody else or am i crazy. holy fuck.
61 notes · View notes
darknadaworld · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
I love them your honor they're so fucking dumb I would brainstorm about them at any given opportunity I swear
Also I need to make more Antasma sprites cuz I hate how bro really has like 2 or 3 unique animations and poses in the overworld compared to all the other main characters omg
Here's a sopping wet bat 💜
Tumblr media
And um uh
Tumblr media
BLOSC:BEYOND INFINITY SHOW REAL????????
(No it's not but I wish it was. I love Norséne)
And finally this (idk people who knows me from insta know what DARKnoverse is so like basically silly alternate universe where fuckers won in ROTM instead lmfao idk evil husband's let's go!!!!!)
Tumblr media
72 notes · View notes
Text
I am officially obsessed with Stardust (2007), like it is everything to me? It's so romantic I can't 😭
1. THE CAST IS STELLAR (haha pun intended) LIKE OMG
2. Captain Shakespeare is a literal icon, who needs OFMD?
3. Charlie Cox 😍
4. It's so purely fantastical???
5. Princess Bride vibes
6. The score slaps
7. YVAINE GLOWS WHEN SHE'S HAPPY
Tumblr media
8. The chemistry is so refreshing, they're the most adorable couple istg
9. This scene ⬇️
Tumblr media Tumblr media
10. This man's smile 🤩
Tumblr media
11. Her smile is so cute ahh
Tumblr media
12. The phantom of the opera vibes this scene gave off?!?!
Tumblr media
13. Ghosts, pirates, witches, magic, what more could I want?????
IT.
Tumblr media
IS.
Tumblr media
EVERYTHING
Tumblr media
Thank you for coming to my TEDtalk
358 notes · View notes
murcielagatito · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
but at what cost?
949 notes · View notes
phantomarts · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
Halloween Costume. Phanmi, or Pomni from Amazing Digital Circus
19 notes · View notes
tastefulbean · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
A sketch I started last night
I may finish this later who knows
123 notes · View notes
Photo
Tumblr media
Fandom: South Park
Sample Size: 18,994 stories
Source: AO3
201 notes · View notes
madmanwonder · 1 month
Note
Prompt.
Crossover AU, childhood friends AU.
Fandoms: danny phantom x scooby doo.
Danny fenton x thorn.
Danny now in college is invited by his Friends sam and tucker to the hex girls concert that was going to happen in Amity Park.
At the end of the concert, the three go backstage to meet the band. Danny's friends gets the surprise of their lives when the lead singer of the band saw him and straight out hug him, only to reveal that she was a childhood friend of his that kept in contact with him all these years.
Danny Fenton, known as Danny Phantom, Hero of Amity Park was having the best time in his life ever since he entered college with his good friend Sam and Tucker who just invited him to a Hex Girls concert which was happening in Amity Park.
To make it even better, at the end of the concert he along with Sam and Tucker go backstage to meet up with the band no doubt due to Sam's wealth.
Though it wasn't the only reason he was happy to be backstage with the Hex Girls as he gazed down at the raven-haired gothic beauty hugging him with a bright smile on her black-painted lips.
"It's so good to see you Dan-Man~" Sally McKnight aka Thorn replied with cheer, hugging her old childhood friend with all of her strength and warmth for the half-ghost superhero who chuckles as he hugged the beautiful singer of the Hext Girls.
"Likewise, Sal~" Danny rumbled back with a grin as he gazed at the beautiful singer with a smile much to the excitement of Dusk and Luna, the envy but mad respect of Tucker, and anger of Sam glaring at Thorn.
20 notes · View notes
arlathavellan · 6 months
Text
Phantom Pains | I
Tumblr media
Fandom: ACOTAR
Pairing: Azriel x Reader
Reader: she/her, (3/4-High Fae, 1/4-Tartera), Y/N used
Genre: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Word Count: 2.5k
Something is... wrong. Time missing, memories missing, thoughts missing. Wondering where things both big and small disappeared to, like the dress you were working on or even the past seventeen hours of your day. Something is very wrong, and the thought seems to slip your mind as soon as it comes. || Azriel has been a part of your life for years now, and has been courting you since the fall of Hybern. Only, things don't seem to be as simple as you'd both assumed they'd be. It seems someone thought you were the weak link-- the easy ticket to infiltrating the inner circle through its spymaster. And maybe you are.
|| Next Part | Masterlist ||
Velaris was always a sight to behold at night. Well, it was always a sight to behold regardless of the time, but something about the blanket of night just suited the city.
Your feet drag slightly as you walk, the fatigue of the day creeping up on you as you make your way home. A large basket weighs your arms down, your fingers barely able to interlock on the other side. The last errand for the night before you can bunker in and sleep until dawn. Well, maybe even a little later than that.
The city is still alive around you; though people are careful to give you room lest they knock your package from your arms. Your eyes barely peeked over the top, even with your chin lifted high, just to be sure you won’t run into anyone who isn’t paying attention. Your routine seemed to be predictably well-known by the residents in the area.
Routine was good, it meant you would know if something was wrong. And, as you come up upon the steps leading to your shop, your favorite part of the night comes. A shadow casts over you from behind, and the familiar sensation of a gentle sentient darkness winds itself up your waist to mingle with your own shadows.
“Allow me,” a gentle voice says.
The weight of the basket is suddenly gone, and you look over your shoulder at your new aide.
“Good evening, Azriel,” you greet, resting your hand in the crook of his offered elbow as he leads you up the stairs.
“Good evening, Y/N.” His smile is soft, not at all like the cold mask he’d wear when you first met.
His wing closest to you curls out slightly, acting as a barrier against the street traffic to make sure no one would bump into you. No one ever did, of course, but you weren’t going to complain about the gesture.
“It’s heavier than last week.”
He tests the weight with a slight bounce as you smile up at him. “Not too much, I hope. I’ve been getting more orders than usual since a certain High Lady was seen wearing one of my dresses on a very casual stroll through the markets.”
The brief puff of his chest doesn’t escape your attention as you reach the top of the stairs. “Our High Lady is certainly a patron of the arts.”
You bump into him lightly, but it does nothing to affect his stride. “Well, thanks to her generosity, I’ve found myself in need of assistance filling orders. I met my new seamstress at lunch today to get to know her; she starts in the morning.”
An utterly soft expression comes over his face, hazel eyes shining as he looks down at you. The walk to your shop was never more lovely than when he was at your side, telling you as much about his day as possible.
When you finally make it to your shop it seems all too soon. Never one to risk overstaying his welcome, Azriel sets the basket down on the front desk before turning to take your hand, placing a kiss on your knuckle.
“Until tomorrow,” he says, breath hot against your skin.
“Until tomorrow.” Your hand follows his for as long as possible as he backs into a dark corner, a sudden coldness replacing his warmth as he leaves for wherever he is needed next.
“One of these days,” you sigh to yourself. “I’ll get you to at least stay for tea before you leave.”
~~
When you first arrived at Velaris, you could only dream of your shop being a staple of the city. Even five years ago you wouldn't have imagined the High Lady of the Night Court wearing one of your gowns just to support you; at the request of the man courting you nonetheless.
You started as a barely-paid aid, working off your family’s debts to the store owner. She was an old, haughty woman who tended to look down her nose at lesser fae like your half-tartera father, and by extension yourself, but even she couldn’t deny a hundred years of your beautiful work.
Even still, you were shocked when the store passed to you upon her death. It was a bit of a struggle, keeping it afloat by yourself during the last decade of Amarantha’s reign of terror. But now, the city was healing after yet another war, and with a little support from the fae who had been courting you, your business had never been better.
The bell above the shop’s door chimes, and you lean back to see your new employee.
“Amaria!” you call, catching her attention.
She smiles as she sees you and makes her way behind the counter to join you.
“Good morning, Y/N. I hope I’m not too late, I don’t have too much experience on this side of town.” The fae woman sits in the chair next to you, her copper braid sliding off her shoulder and falling at her back.
“No worries, I’m just getting an early start on some mending. Care to join me?” You lean across the table to slide a box towards her.
She takes it gracefully, lifting the blouse inside of it to find the damage. A small hole along the seam of the left arm catches her eye, and she picks up the matching spool of thread you’d left in the box.
You find yourself watching her thread a needle from your kit out of the corner of your eye, your own work stopping for a moment. It takes about three pokes for the thread to pass through, and you’re back to your own patching before her eyes turn towards you.
“If you don’t mind me asking; didn’t you mention an influx of dress orders at lunch yesterday? I’m sure those pay better than fixing some shirts.”
A smile pulls across your lips as you tie off your thread. “These customers were here first. I love making my own gowns, but if it weren’t for the people asking me to mend their clothes, the store would have been out of my hands decades ago.”
Amaria hums in response, focusing intently on the garment in her hands. Lithe and elegant, she almost reminds you of a spider weaving a web as she works the needle between long fingers. The two of you work for hours with the occasional work-related conversation until all of the garments sent in for mending are carefully folded on the far end of the table, client tags attached.
You roll your shoulders back, sighing at the accompanying crackle. “What would you say to a lunch break before we get started on those orders?”
A light, airy laugh is your response as Amaria follows your lead in standing from the table. “I had worried you might be the type to work until your body said otherwise.”
You can’t help your smile as you lead her out of the shop. “Oh, I do some days. I just don’t want to scare you off on your first day here.”
She falls in step with you, and you walk a little faster than normal to meet a compromising pace for the both of you. The streets are busy around this time of day, and your shadows dance around your feet when another fae walks too close.
Amaria breaks the silence as the two of you walk to the cafe you’d met her at yesterday. “You mentioned your father was tarteran, correct?”
“And one of the best jewelsmiths in the Court,” you answered. “He made quite a living before my mother fell ill.”
“So why dresses? If you don’t mind me asking.”
You focused on the steady fall of your feet as the two of you walked down the cobbled street. “It started out of convenience. My mother was a seamstress, so I had easy access to training, and could help with her work as her condition got worse. Eventually, I took over for her so she didn’t have to worry about that kind of thing in the few years before she passed.”
A silence fell between you, so you sent her a smile to quell the apprehensive look you noticed on her face. “I don’t mind talking about it. I’ve had my time to grieve, and will gladly take any opportunity to talk someone’s ear off about them. Keeps their memory alive.”
She tries to return your smile, but you can tell it isn’t completely there.
“What of you? Family or profession, whichever you’re comfortable sharing.”
Amaria’s gaze flickers up towards the horizon, and the pause before she speaks has you on the edge of backtracking. “My parents died when I was young; my siblings as well. I was taken in by a family friend who paid for sewing lessons so I could make dresses for myself and his daughter. We were originally in Spring, but tensions during the war had us moving up here with his sister to escape the fighting.”
Her words are tense, almost feeling rehearsed with their near-monotonous tone. An uneasy feeling in your gut has you redirecting the conversation as you approach the cafe.
“Well, as painful as our journeys may have been, I'm glad they led us here. What better place to make your dreams come true than the City of Dreams itself?” You catch another not-quite smile as you lead her inside.
~~
After lunch, you and Amaria fall into a steady rhythm working on an order for Morrigan as the sun begins to set. You’d only met her a few times since Azriel had begun courting you, but she was a frequent patron and always paid more than fair. One of her requests had even led to a collaboration between yourself and Neve to design both gown and jewelry to complement each other. You’d always longed for connections in the Palace of Thread and Jewels, and her shop reminded you of your late father.
“I’ve heard tales of our great Inner Court,” Amaria says, working on the hem of Morrigan’s flowing skirt. “I never thought I’d be making something for them, especially not on my first day.”
You flash a smile as you arrange the fabric for the bodice on the dressform you’d had made for her. “Morrigan and Lady Feyre have been more than generous in their support. They’re actually the reason I needed to hire another pair of hands; everyone wants to see what’s so special about a gown to be worn by the High Lady herself.”
Amaria hums in response, and you’ve gotten the impression it's something she does often.
“And the others?” Her voice has you peeking over your shoulder, but her face is practically buried in the skirt. “The High Lady’s sisters, or the High Lord’s brothers?”
A slight tug at your lips betrays you as you think of your shadowsinger. “I get some repairs from them, but I don’t believe any of them have the taste for my gowns.”
Her laugh is light and airy, and you can hear the spring court in her. A few pins later, and you stepped back to get a better vantage on the pleats of the chest. A quick look over your shoulder showed that Amaria was finishing up the hem.
“Well, I believe this is a good place to call it a night.”
She looks up at you, blinking to clear her eyesight. “I don’t think I’ve sewed for this long in ages.”
You laugh as she stretches and curls her fingers. “If we don’t stop here I might end up working through the night, sleep be damned.”
Sighing with a smile, she stood from her chair and worked the strain out of her back and arms.
“Would you mind if I walked you home?” You asked, closing up your pins. “It’s getting dark out, and I know you mentioned getting turned around this morning. I can drop off some of the repairs we did as well.”
Her expression turns to shock for a moment, but fades to a grateful smile. “It would be much appreciated. I can’t say I’m too familiar with navigating the market squares at night.”
The night is cool and the walk is pleasant. Amaria is easy company, and you find the two of you don’t need to make much conversation. You even get to introduce her to a few customers, and they take to her easily. 
Her apartment is at the back of a c-shaped complex, through a brief alleyway that opens into a shared courtyard.
“It’s beautiful,” you appraise, looking up at the large tree in the center as you pass. The last fading light of sunset filters through its leaves.
“I was fortunate to find this place. The neighbors are kind, and good company on sleepless nights.” Her voice is gentle, like she’s already more at home in the courtyard than she was in the streets of Velaris.
A sentiment you understood all too well.
“Thank you, Y/N. For walking me home.”
You smile at her as she reaches her door, and she returns it brightly. ”I’ll see you in the morning, then?”
Her head dips into a low nod. “Until then.”
The courtyard is silent as her door closes behind her. A night chill settles on your shoulders like a cloak, and you find yourself shivering as you enter the alleyway. It was getting late, which meant your shadowsinger would soon make his appearance. Feeling light and giddy, your pace is enthusiastic as you make your way back to your shop and home.
There weren’t many people out tonight, those that were awake likely seeking something in one of the districts. Your feet slow despite yourself, a sluggish feeling overcoming your body as you come to a stop in the middle of the street
The light behind you is partially blocked, and you feel the hair on the back of your neck prickle as your shadows swirl in a panic at your feet. Every survival sense in your body screams at once as spindly fingers enter your peripheral vision, caging your head. A feeling of claustrophobia overwhelms your senses, and suddenly every inch of you is paralyzed. All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut tight at the sudden pain blooming in your head.
When your senses return, it's to the sound of wings. You inhale like you’ve been stuck underwater, swaying on your feet as the blackness in your vision recedes, showing the streets of Velaris once more.
“There you are!” Azriel calls, landing in front of you and grasping on your shoulders as you sway on your feet.
The heel of your palm digs into your temple as you wince at the volume of his voice.
“Are you alright?” His hands and shadows both brush against you, searching for any obvious injuries.
You blink the fog out of your eyes and steady yourself against him. “I’m… I’m okay. Just got lightheaded for a moment.”
A familiar, comforting feeling of silence surrounds you as arms and wings alike shield you from the world. “I was waiting for you by the bridge, but it was starting to get late. What’re you doing out here?”
You swallow a lump in your throat as you regain your bearings. Recounting your deliveries and how you walked Amaria home, you notice the sky is much darker than it was a moment ago. Azriel’s brows are pinched, his thumb running from your temple to cheek.
“Let me take you home?” Both an offer and plea, one you don’t plan on denying.
----------------------------
Want to join a taglist? Reply or reblog with the url you want tagged and what you want to be tagged for! Fandom specific, character specific, and/or story specific are all accepted.
90 notes · View notes
kettlefire · 1 year
Text
Danny knew something was horribly wrong the moment his sense's came back to him.
The air felt off. The smells and sounds that slowly came into focus was completely different. Everything felt so strange, but also so familiar.
Before he even tried opening his eyes and facing the people before him, he turned his focus inwards. Trying to piece together the hazy memories he had.
First was the evident moment everything started going downhill. A normal day suddenly shifting as the sky started to turn purple and green.
Harsh winds, and ghostly beings filled the air. Danny remembers sending Sam and Tucker to his house. Told them to find his parents and sister, get to the ops center.
He'd contact them when he can.
He doesn't think he did. It was a vague mess of fighting ghosts, teaming up with Vlad, and tracking why the living realm suddenly started looking like the zone.
While also getting the worse bruises and injuries he has had in ages.
Then he found the source. He's 97% sure he found himself up against Freakshow, but at this point it felt like he fought all of his rivals.
There was a strange pool, different from regular ectoplasm. Even with Freakshow's monologuing, he had no clue what it was.
Then he got shoved in.
Shoved in.
He didn't resurface. Some unknown energy pulling him deeper. He felt like he was drowning, being crushed, then oblivion.
Which left the question of who pulled him out, and where he was. This wasn't home. He didn't need to open his eyes to see that.
When he did finally open his eyes, he didn't expect what he saw.
Seriously, why are there so many people? And why do they have so much sharp and pointy things pointed at him???
170 notes · View notes