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#the little palace
starlessmistake · 7 months
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iamthehamburglar · 3 months
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witchthewriter · 1 year
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𝐙𝐨𝐲𝐚 𝐍𝐚𝐳𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐏 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞
⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  
ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ        
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒐𝒈𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒏.
    Seemingly always in a daydream, INTPs are constant thinkers whose curiosity constantly gets the best of them. They’re the type of people to ask why, to wonder how things work and think about the ‘what ifs’.
    They are curious, analytical, and independent – INTPs are often pegged as the “mad scientists” in the world of fiction.
𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿
・You grew up together in the Little Palace. She was the first person you ever saw, a true Grisha. Her powers were incredible. And you were wild with curiosity. 
・But your intrigue for Zoya was thwarted. Not by her, but by work. There seemed to be no time for anything in the Little Palace. 
・Education sucked up all your time. And your grisha powers were in dire need. 
・Your parents didn’t want you to go, especially because you were their eldest child, but the time came for you to be tested. 
・You had alawys fixed up your father’s farmer machines and tools. Your family knew you were grisha, but tried to hide you. 
・Being told you were a Fabrikator wasn’t a shock to you. It was unusual for a child to be able to fix so many things, without knowing how they worked. 
・You could pick up on the mechanics of things within minutes of studing it
・For an INTP, and Fabrikator, you were a little loud. Well, when compared to the others. To many, you were still quiet and bookish. 
・To Zoya, you were a complete nerd. But secretly, she loved that about you. 
・Everyday she would somehow end up at the workshops, saying one of her beloved compacts had broken
・You were always the one to fix them
・Zoya gets butterflies whenever you smile at her. The first time it happened, you were sitting in the workshop and she flounced in. Someone said something passively aggressively towards you, and she shot back without a second thought. 
・You couldn’t help but be entertained by the person’s red face and quick feet as they scurried away with a bruised ego
・The Darkling was intimidating, but you weren’t entirely fazed by him. He was your leader, and you believed in him. He had the Grisha’s best interests at heart. It was only logical for you to accept him. 
・So you became the head Fabrikator over time, and Zoya was even more impressed by you. Because you didn’t need charm, or charisma to get people to like you. It was your honesty and direct outlook on life. 
・Slowly, you became good friends with Zoya. She too was honest. But in a much more brutal way. 
・The years went by and puberty hit both of you like a truck
・Hormones are a crazy thing. And for Zoya, they made her even more beautiful. 
・You’d never felt love for someone before. Family love yes, you missed your parents and siblings dearly. But you had never experienced romantic love
・No one had shown you any attention in that area 
・Well, not until one of your friends had pointed out that Zoya was always looking at you
・You brushed it off. What a ridiculous thing to point out, you thought. It was probably because you always had a smudge of oil on your nose or forehead
・But Zoya kept on staring. And making conversation. 
・And after months of ‘going to different places together’ (as you thought) but your friends calling them DATES! 
・She kissed you. 
・Outright. Pointblank. 
・Put her lips onto yours. 
・And you melted... it felt like all those stories you had read, and songs you heard were all truth
・As a partner, Zoya is very passionate. She can’t keep her hands off of you in private. In public, she isn’t much for PDA.
・But she does like everyone knowing you’re hers
・If someone looks at you for too long, she will verbally murder them
・You always have someone on your side. Someone to rely on. 
・Many people think she’s the ‘one who wears the pants’ in your relationship. But really, you call the shots. 
・She may be intimidating. But she doesn’t tell you what to do. No one can. 
・Zoya loves when you play with her hair, especially if you braid it. 
・And she still comes to you when she needs something fixed
・Will summon wind to cool you down
・She would rather spend all her time with you, than with friends
・Zoya likes to be the little spoon 
・Loves listening to you rant, especially if it’s about something you’re passionate about. Even though she has no idea what you mean if you’re talking about machinery 
・At times you do get a bit possessive of Zoya, and snap at people who are trying to flirt with her. She gets very impressed...
・She actually initiates most of the cuddling 
・You guys make a lot of sarcastic comments about other people to each other
𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝑷𝒆𝒕 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒀𝒐𝒖: Mouse, Brainiac, Book (because you always carry a book or have one in your bag). Her teasing ways don’t cease even when you’re in a relationship. 
𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑳𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆: Quality Time and Acts of Service. She doesn’t particularly like speaking her feelings, so she shows them through doing. 
𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:
Nordlys by Gaute Storaas
𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:   ✧ Tough On The Outside, Soft On The Inside (Zoya) x The Top (You) ✧ Slowburn Friends to Lovers ✧ “You wear the pants in this relationship” (You to Zoya) x “Oh I wish, I cannot control you at all” (she says back)
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artbymagsn · 1 year
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Chance meeting in the garden
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marvelmusing · 2 years
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Rooms of The Little Palace: The Darkling’s Bedroom
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Some of my personal highlights:
How he has books and papers thrown about everywhere
The cloak stand that sits in front of his wardrobe
The random flag with his symbol on it in the corner of the room
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I really hope that in the rest of the series, the directors will not suggest that the little palace was a Darkling prison for the Grisha... Because yes, that's what King of Scars is insinuating according to my memories, with the Darkling removing grisha from their families, when it's not true. As we know, the little palace is a refuge for the grisha. Not a jail. Grisha are not taken away from their families. They are always entitled to a contract with them and they even receive money for that. Leigh Bardugo's coaster in King of Scars is pathetic. I hope we don't have that in the rest of the series.
I hope so too, I hate the idea of them taking the grisha's only safe haven and twisting it into something sinister or trying to paint it as some wrongdoing on Aleks part. One thing that does give me a bit of hope that they won't is that in season 2 baghra says this about the LP when talking about the grisha being persecuted again: 'driven out of the very palace that you built to keep them safe.' So in the show they do acknowledge that Aleks built it to keep grisha safe and not to imprison them, or steal them from their families. If they did go that route then it would be a contradiction to this moment, that doesn't mean they won't do it but I do think the show has been pretty good at taking out the parts and contradictions that fans didn't like and called out. So fingers crossed.
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Personally I think that Azula should have been redeemed simply so that she can become Zuko's horrible little advisor who whispers evil little plans to him so that he can do the exact opposite
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simpingforpeggy · 1 year
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Change the World | Ch. 1
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summary: When Alina is eight-years-old, she discovers her powers. She leaves everything behind for the Little Palace, and with time, Keramzin fades into a distant memory. tw for ch. 1: mild bullying a/n: i haven't posted a fic on tumblr in so long, but here it is! it was actually on AO3 first but i hope you enjoy it!!
Alina was nobody before the Little Palace.
 She was just another child born out of misfortune, an unwanted mouth to feed, a plucky orphan girl with a face like sour milk. Even in an orphanage full of kids with the same fate as her, she had managed to become an outcast. Always too weak, too ill, and too tired to play with the other children. The other orphans had resented her, then, because Ana Kuya paid her more attention. She’s a pity project, her teachers muttered. Kuya always gets attached to hopeless cases. 
There were plenty of things that made her “different” from the other children. At eight years old, Alina was barely taller than the six-year-olds, her feet callused from tiptoeing, her neck strained from holding her head up high. Regular food tended to disagree with her stomach, but the other kids stopped believing she was faking ill because, on one occasion, she threw up on Ana Kuya’s shoes. Her small frame had earned her the nickname “Sticks” from Mal’s good friend Mikhael. Afterward, the other kids started calling her that, too. Her teachers called her a delicate hothouse flower among weeds, a shame because she was the most literate child in the orphanage.   
Short, thin, and sickly—she was known as Keramzin’s Local Punching Bag among her peers, both literally and figuratively. But she didn’t mind; the other children were simply jealous that she could read and write fluently, and when she was older, she would become a famous author and no one would treat her poorly. Besides, Mal promised her a farmhouse after they both served in the First Army. What were a few insults compared to a farmhouse? 
“Hey, Shu polukrovka!” 
Alina scrunched her nose at the nickname. Shu half-breed. She looked up from her book to see Maksim Kozlov, a boy who was a year older than her, walking towards her. Maksim had a growth spurt last August and was suddenly one of the biggest boys in her grade, towering over her like an ugly giant. “Why are you reading? Don’t you have friends?”
She ignored him. Maksim had the proclivity to torment smaller kids due to his newfound height. Her eyes scanned the grassy fields behind him, desperately trying to find Mal or another familiar face. Mal said he was going exploring to track rabbits, and Alina had simply taken shelter under one of the large trees. No one’s going to help me, she thought grimly. 
“Are you mute?” Maksim taunted. Something threatened to lash out from inside of her. She squashed the feeling and held her head high, “I’m not, Maksim.” But she trembled all the same. He laughed, shaking with mirth, before—to her horror—he ripped the book from her hands. The tattered copy of Istorii Sankt’ya, an old get-well-soon gift from Ana Kuya, was in Maksim’s grubby hands and before she knew it, he was tearing the pages apart. No. 
 An indignant sound bubbled from Alina’s chest, but soon she was upright and was attempting to pry the book from his hands. She was no match for Maksim and a horrifying image conjured itself: her book lying on the ground, completely torn to shreds at the hands of Maksim. Liquid rage pooled in her stomach and something uncoiled itself from her insides. She grabbed his arm without much thought. “That’s mine! Give it back you stu—” 
A wail of pain rang through the air, but it wasn’t Alina’s. Her shoulders tensed, her face hot, suddenly terrified. Did she hurt him? She willed herself to take slower breaths despite her pounding heart, until she noticed his arm. A fresh burn wound, in an angry shade of red, appeared on Maksim’s arm, just where Alina had grabbed him. Her book laid on the grass, long forgotten by him. His eyes darted from the burn to Alina before he yelled, “You—you were glowing! You burned me! You—you’ll pay for this, witch!” 
He ran from her as she stood paralyzed with shock, even though she wasn’t the one who had been injured, and it was only then she realized Maksim had wet himself. 
                                                               ☀☀☀
The other children teased Maksim relentlessly. “Dubrov told me he ran towards them wearing sodden pants while crying like a little kid. Saints, Alina, what’s gotten into him? From Keramzin’s biggest bully to Keramzin’s biggest baby. Unbelievable!” Mal repeated to her for the umpteenth time. There was glee in the way he said it, and Alina couldn’t help but drown with guilt. “He had an ugly burn on his arm, too. Didn’t tell anyone how he got it, but he sobbed when Ana Kuya patched him up. Probably did some stupid stunt to earn it.”
There was a lump in her throat, and her usual meagre appetite became nonexistent. The confession lay on her lips, but Mal wouldn't believe her one bit. <em>By some blight, I was the one who burned him.</em> She stared at the bowl of porridge. “I don’t think we should be talking about this, Mal.”
His face scrunched up and his eyes studied her, concern forming in his face. “I thought you hated him; you’re not sick, are you? If you’re going to throw up again, don’t do it near me, Linka.”
She gave him a playful kick from under the breakfast table. “I’m not ill, Mal. I just feel bad for him. Even if he’s a big bully, I don’t think he deserves to be teased like that. We don’t fight fire with fire.”
Mal chortled, his hand briefly brushing Alina’s. “You really are too kind, Linka. You’re like a living Saint. All hail Sankta Alina, defender of the bullies.” They both weren’t particularly religious, despite being required to pray before meals as a sign of gratitude, but to Alina, it still felt wrong either way. 
“That’s an awful nickname! It implies I’m about to get martyred like Sankt Feliks or Sankta Lizabeta,” she told him honestly. Being a Saint seemed horrible; imagine performing a miracle, then get hanged or roasted alive for something you couldn’t control. She shivered at the thought. Despite its reputation, her now-ruined copy of Istorii Sankt’ya was not exactly a “children’s” picture book. An absurd thought crossed her mind. She hesitated, “Do you think, perhaps, all the Saints were Grisha?”
“What?” Mal faltered. “No way. I don’t even believe in Saints anymore; they don’t answer my prayers. I prayed for blini for breakfast each day for years, but here we are, still stuck with boring old porridge. Saints, are you sure you’re not ill, Linka?”
She scowled and pointedly ignored his question. “You know, for an atheist, you call upon the Saints a lot.” She paused, contemplating, “But my theory makes sense! Sankta Anastasia cured a wasting plague, Sankt Kho created an army from bone and machines, Sankta Maradi cleared the—” 
He grumbled, “I don’t want to spend time theorizing on stuff from kids’ books, Alina. Besides, Grisha are unnatural anyway. I don’t even want to be near those Coporolki people. Do you even know what they can do?” Before she could correct him on his butchered pronunciation on “Corporalki”, he quietly added, “I’m going to the stables with Mikhail and Dubrov and a few other boys. I think the girls are at the market with Ana Kuya. I hope you’ll feel better soon.” He stood up and left, leaving Alina and her porridge alone. 
If only she hadn’t woken up late, maybe someone friendly (for the first time in her life, preferably not Mal) could’ve accompanied her for breakfast—but she had silently cried her eyes out last night, for her favorite book that gave her comfort when Mal wasn’t able to, was barely decipherable anymore. And if anyone were to question the snot on her pillow, well, what can a girl do when she has bad allergies?
Her skin prickled with irritation. Stupid Mal and stupid Maksim and stupid boys with their horse obsessions. It was unkind to think of them that way, but Alina longed for a close female friend. Boys, at least Keramzin boys, were rash and narrow-minded but everyone says boys were simply that way, that it is in their nature to act like baboons. Okay, perhaps she made the last part up. She tried to make friends with some of the girls, but they weren’t any better. Though they were all poor orphans, they managed to find another thing to look down on: her ethnicity. As if it mattered what color her locks were or the shape of her eyes! It was utterly absurd. Stupid Keramzin, stupid mean girls, stupid prejudices—
Before she knew it, tears threatened to fall from her eyes. And over what? Over a few hurt feelings from being lonely? She’d look more stupid than they already thought she was, crying into her untouched porridge like a baby, despite there being no one to witness it. She refused to do that. Instead, she held her head high in spite of her wobbling chin, though she was all alone in a place she called home.  
She entered the one place where she felt safe, the place where she’d spent hours upon hours in: Duke Keramsov’s library. 
                                                               ☀☀☀
Alina was fond of the library, though it remained largely unused and unkempt. It was a shame—Duke Keramsov had a wonderful collection of books, some ranging from war strategy, foreign languages, to children’s books. It was awfully kind of him to convert his country home into an orphanage. The library spanned two floors, with a large window in the center. It was elegant but not ostentatious, though it seemed massive to her. You could see everything from the second floor, from the fuzzy carpets in the children’s section to the subtle carvings in the archway. The library was like a place from a fairy tale; it really didn’t belong in an orphanage.
It remained unused because many of the books in the library were old and of difficult topics.  Even though Alina was an articulate reader for her age and for a peasant, there were books she simply couldn’t comprehend. The words seemed impossible for someone her age. For many of her classmates, playing outdoors was infinitely more rewarding. Admittedly, Alina was a little jealous of them. There were instances where she did try to partake in their activities, but she was always too slow to keep up and had always ended up watching from the sidelines. That was why Ana Kuya often sent her to the library. 
“If you can’t be useful now, at least you’ll have some smarts in the future. Well-read girls are always the best kind of girls, though it’s a shame your friends don’t share your interests,” Ana Kuya told her, all those years ago. She was wrong though, it wasn’t that the other kids had no interest in learning to fluently read, they simply didn’t have good teachers. Alina’s Ravkan teacher had no passion in teaching; he simply wrote words on the blackboard and made the kids rewrite them without actually explaining anything. Slowly, Alina developed a pastime of teaching the young children to read, even though she was a child herself.  Coercing her peers, though, was a different thing entirely.
Books were where she found refuge. They made her feel a little less different. She liked fantasy stories the best of all (there was a particularly hilarious one titled Bob’s Missing White Paint), and she was always in awe of how awesome words were. You could create universes, make people cry or laugh, and earn money off of them. In fiction, anything was possible.
She trailed the spine of a few old books, but there was one that caught her eye. It was a green leather-bound book, titled “An Introduction to Grisha Ranks”. She stilled for a moment. Mal wouldn’t like it at all. It was an intriguing book in the color of pine leaves, with golden loops etched in its corners. Alina had no business reading something about Grisha; Keramzin folk weren’t the most welcoming to them. They saw them as burdens who squandered the country’s funds. Yet…she still plucked the book from the shelf, wiping the decades of dust off its edge before her allergies kicked in.
She checked her surroundings once more to make sure she was completely alone. Then, she found a cozy spot near the window, sitting crisscross on the floor, soaking up the sunlight that was streaming in. The author was a man called Leonid, which she assumed was also Grisha. A quick skim of the preface indicated that Alina’s vocabulary would manage while reading the book. 
Alina read to herself quietly lest anyone hear her, “...Grisha orders are separated into three categories: Corporalki, the highest rank among Grisha, also referred to as the Order of the Living and the Dead; Etherealki, referred to as Summoners who can either summon water, wind, or fire and…” She paused. Then a funny thought popped up in her head. 
Fire. Maksim’s burn. Her “alleged” glow. 
Maksim could’ve made up the glowing, but the burn mark wasn’t a trick of the eye. He had cried real tears over that burn. And he called her—he had called her a witch. Alina had the sudden urge to vomit.
There were three logical conclusions. Either she had lost her mind, had gotten a fever somehow, or there was always the third unspoken option.
She drew in a sharp breath and slammed the book shut. There was a high possibility that she was, in fact, Grisha. 
                                                           ☀☀☀
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lesbianyaomo · 6 months
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it's actually very nice that apothecary diaries chose maomao as the protagonist, a girl who was raised in the pleasure district and severely under-ranks(?) many of the other characters in the story. through her, we get proximity to the status of those who were expendable to the royal court, a fact that she herself is highly aware of, and because of this she routinely positions herself between those who are of high rank and low rank. i really like that the series draws attention to notions of hierarchy and expendability, again without being preachy about it, because to be sure, it's not gritty at all, it tends to maintain a lighthearted tone with a focus on interpersonal relationships.
but this direction contrasts strongly with the dozens of western historical/historical fantasy dramas that focus mostly on the upper class and invisibilises the labor that sustains their lifestyles. meanwhile apothecary diaries leans into maomao's skills, the certain amount of ingenuity and knowledge that comes from her being poor and growing up in the pleasure district, and the way her rapport and proximity to the servants of the court enable her to reach places the high-ranked characters can't.
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personinthepalace · 1 year
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My favorite bits from the Thinking Cloth
George's and Lockwood's doodles of each other
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CEO of Cooking Cocking
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Compliments :)
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Mustard is the fools condiment ≠ Lockwood is a fool
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Food
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Locklyle grammar flirting
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Literature quotes from Lockwood
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To-do list
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It's the cat again
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The trio 🥺
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the full thinking cloth (x) from Sophie Powell's instagram
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beannary · 5 days
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So I named TLP after the book The Little Prince because I went to a French school so we read that book constantly so I thought it would be funny if I made little drawings of TLP Donnie if I had named au after different French books I read as a kid!
It was hard to think of some that were actually French and not just translations lol turns out a lot of the books that I thought were French were really just English books with French translations :P
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lesbaurinkos · 8 days
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swifties claim taylor is the lyricist of a generation but she could never come up with half the shit dan howell was tweeting in 2009. she couldnt even come up with youre what would happen if winnie the pooh fucked slenderman let alone i want to be there so you dont have to be brave
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witchthewriter · 2 years
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𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐙𝐨𝐲𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬
⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  
ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ    
SFW🌿
⭑ We know Zoya has a fire within that will snap at anyone who dares step out of line. 
⭑ So when the two of you entered a relationship, you know became apart of her very heart. Whoever said a bad word, even a bad look your way - she would tear them apart. 
⭑ Zoya will always seek you out - no matter whether it’s during training, schooling, prayer, balls etc. You are her focus. You are her world. 
⭑ Zoya loves having an arm around you, or a hand somewhere on your body; on your own, your waist, an arm wrapped around your own. 
⭑ She loves gazing into your eyes while you play with her hair. 
    “You are the prettiest woman I have ever seen,” you coo. Nuzzling your nose against her own. 
⭑ She doesn’t care about others’ opinions. Only your own. 
⭑ She’ll visit you in your chamber, staying as long as she can until she’s stationed somewhere in the castle
⭑ You like to tease her at times, rile her up - but never going too far because you know she feels insecure at times 
⭑ I think her grandiosity is because she doubts herself. She would only ever let her walls come down with you’re alone with her
⭑ She absolutely loves wearing your clothes and will parade around your room. 
⭑ If someone was flirting with you, she would come up behind you and wrap her arms around you. Her lips would connect to your face, neck, lips, and cheeks. Absolutely devouring you in them. 
⭑ The other person would be so awkward - they would sort of ... shuffle away. And Zoya would stare after them, and when they turn around, she would sneer. 
⭑ When someone makes fun of you, and she’s not there, you’ll tell her about your day and what happened. Even if it didn’t hurt you, or sting you that badly - -she would get up from wherever she was and find the person. Or she would wait until the next day and tear them to shreds with her words. 
⭑ Zoya’s silver tongue is just as potent as her Grisha power. 
⭑ If she’s there when someone insults you, she radiates coolness. Absolute ice. Cold. Like an ice queen, or viper waiting to strike
⭑ You always feel safe with Zoya, and she feels proud that you feel that way. 
⭑ Zoya loves showing affection to you in public, to let as many people know that you’re taken. 
⭑ She likes sharing jewelry; earrings, bracelets, necklaces, and especially rings. It’s almost like an unofficial promise ring.
⭑ Everyone knows that you’re Zoya’s Queen. Almost like you’re the rulers amongst the grisha at the Little Palace. 
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artbymagsn · 1 year
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Etheralki corporalki drama at the little palace 🙄 I know the durasts are so over them
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marvelmusing · 2 years
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Rooms of The Little Palace: The Darkling’s War Room
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I’m not a mapmaker but I would spend literal hours reading every single scrap of paper in this room. And the books!!!
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bunthebreadboy · 28 days
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redeemed!azula au where she and katara are absolutely fed up by their brothers when they’re all staying at the fire nation palace
zuko & sokka: *literally just holding hands*
katara: spirits, they’re disgusting
azula: absolutely vile
katara: so much pda
azula: they need to get a room
katara: you’re so right
azula: besides, we’d be cuter than them anyways and we could destroy the world
katara: i hope you mean that hypothetically
azula: us being cuter than them?
katara: no, destroying the world
azula: …oh, yeah, that was a joke
katara: good! so…wanna go prove we can be cuter than them
azula: don’t have to ask me twice
katara & azula: *making out somewhere*
toph, seeing them via earth vibrations despite being half way across the palace, looking straight into the camera like she’s on an episode of the office: yknow, i didn’t think it was possible to be more dramatic than zuko and sokka. i was WRONG.
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