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pascalmode · 1 year

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In The Stars (8 - The Light and The Shadows)

Hiiii!! This chapter is my way of apologizing for the lack of Azriel in the last one. I hope you enjoy!!! (From this point forward things are going to move along veeeery quickly (i hope)). Please let me know what you think! (Also, if anyone wants to draw any scenes from this chapter or any other, i would nooooot be opposed;))

Az x TOG!OC

Words: 6.1K

Warnings; None, I think. Just Asteria being obsessed with Az. Elain is there at some point. idk

Despite taking three baths, each filled with luxuriously scented oils and soaps, Asteria can’t seem to shake the bitter, coppery scent of blood that clings to her.

She’d scrubbed harshly at her skin, only to be twice as rigorous when washing her hair, attempting to free the long, delicate silver strands of the scent to no avail.

It lingers.

Halfway through dinner that night, the entire inner circle and Feyre’s sister Elain gathered around a table filled with beautifully smoked and seasoned meats, steamed vegetables slathered in spices, and roasted potatoes with garlic and butter, Azriel reappeared.

It only took him a couple of seconds to sniff the air and lock a hard, unreadable gaze on Asteria while everyone else peppered him with greetings. One shadow subtly split away from the rest, darting underneath the table and skittering over her entire form, as though attempting to discover the source of the coppery scent.

Having found nothing, the shadow whirls around the length of Asteria’s still-damp braid before it returned to its master.

Azriel had taken the vacant seat across from the silver haired female, hazel eyes flashing with a concern that Asteria picked up on immediately. Beneath the table, Asteria nudged his foot with her own, their gazes met, and she allowed herself to offer him a small smile, enough to tell him; I’m okay.

His shoulders relaxed, and when Cassian sent him a brotherly taunt, the Shadowsinger didn’t miss a beat when he tossed out a smart retort, the entire table chuckled at the interaction.

Except for Elain Archeron. Whose stare remained on Asteria, a slight frown seemingly glued to her lips.

After the meal, the group moved to the living room, lounging on the couches and sharing several bottles of wine.

Azriel, hovering towards a door that would lead out to the yard, catches Asteria’s eye, discreetly nodding towards the dusk-lit lawn that had become their nightly meeting place, a thick blanket in hand.

With everyone’s attention focused on Mor and Rhysand as they delve into a charming story from their childhood, Asteria follows the Shadowsinger outside to the area beyond the training ring.

As soon as they sit down, the cold causes a damp-haired Asteria to shiver.

A blanket drapes around her shoulders, warm hands lingering for an extra moment before Azriel settles beside her.

“Thank you,” Asteria mutters, her hands, which are wearing a new pair of gloves that Feyre had bought for her before they left Velaris, close the thick fabric of the blanket around her, thankful that the spymaster beside her made a habit of bringing one out each night, though it often went unused, “Are you cold?”

“Illyrian,” Azriel states, as through it’s an answer. Asteria arches a brow, as though silently reminding the male that she isn’t from this world, and he didn’t explain as thoroughly as she needs. The Shadowsinger lets out a deep chuckle, lips quirked in a small smile, “I was raised in the mountains. Cold doesn’t bother me.”

“Consider yourself lucky,” Asteria chimes, jealous although cold doesn’t usually get to her so easily. She moves past the weather around her, feeling content that her friend had returned from his assignment, like his presence had removed a weight that the female unknowingly had been holding onto her chest, “I’m glad you’re back.”

“You missed me, Asteria?”

Asteria huffs, unable to hold back her smile when she sees a glint of mischief glinting in the Shadowsinger’s eyes. She nudges him with her elbow, “I never said that.”

“It felt implied.”

“Your feelings may be deceiving you.”

Azriel’s mouth twists, as though holding back a grin, before it settles into an easy smirk, “I don’t think they are.”

“You don’t?”

“No,” Azriel says, his smirk fading as his eyes direct themselves to the darkening sky, the first of the stars beginning to peer brilliantly into the night, “Because I can admit that you smell like blood, and that scares me.”

“It scares you?”

“What happened?”

“They attempted a surprise attack,” Asteria admits, shadows surrounding them growing darker, thicker, “It didn’t work out for them.”

“How many?”

“Ten.”

“Did they survive?”

“No.”

“Do you know what they were after?”

Asteria tries to draw up the memories she’d seen when she plunged into the mind of one of her assailants, trying to recall the orders and succeeding, “I don’t know who sent them, but they had clear orders to kill me.”

Azriel’s brow furrows, and his face is suddenly stone.

Keeping her eyes on the male, she lifts a hand from the confines of the blanket and removes one of her gloves with her teeth, once again revealing the scarred flesh beneath. Pulling a pearl of magic up from her well of power, letting it rest between her fingers and offering it to Azriel.

The Shadowsinger eyes it with interest, the faint light from it illuminating the angles of his face enough that he appears so achingly beautiful that Asteria has to remind herself to take a full breath.

He opens his palm, holding it out to Asteria with silent permission.

Asteria lays the pearl into the center of Azriel’s skin, watching as the light glows beneath the surface, her palm pressing into his.

What had occurred earlier in the day plays out in both of their mind’s eye, and Asteria lets Azriel see it all. She lets him feel the joy of the pianoforte interrupted by the sudden shock of an arrow bursting through the window of Murry’s music shop, and the clear, determined rage that had followed her over the wall of Velaris and led to the death of ten strange males.

She lets him see each and every memory she’d pulled from one of the assailants. She shows him the life she’d wandered through before his neck snapped, and that same life ended. Every detail.

When it’s over, Azriel’s own scarred fingers had wrapped around Asteria’s, the warmth of him blooming all the way up her arm to the center of her chest.

She meets his eyes, expecting to find nothing but horror from the bloodbath. Repulsion after seeing the things she’d done. The lack of mercy.

Instead, he’d softened yet again. Fond eyes searching hers for an answer to a question he had yet to ask.

Swallowing, and trying to slow her own heart, Asteria gingerly pulls her hand back to the warmth of the blanket wrapped around her, though she feels colder than ever, “That’s everything I know.”

Azriel nods, expression unchanging, “It’s useful. I can call in some favours.”

“From your spies?” Asteria is unable from blurting.

“Maybe,” Azriel murmurs, “Maybe not.”

“Very secretive of you.”

“Spymaster, remember?”

“How could I possibly forget?”

Azriel lets out another chuckle, and Asteria lifts her head, eyes taking in the expansive beauty of the darkening night sky, bright white stars gleaming above them. A sight she truly believes she’ll never tire of.

A beat of comfortable silence, quickly broken.

Azriel speaks so softly that she almost doesn’t hear him, “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“I feel more than alright,” Asteria breathes, smiling as she thinks of how the ivory keys of the pianoforte felt under her fingers.

As though he could tell exactly where her mind wandered, Azriel nudges the female softly with his elbow, “You played that pianoforte.”

The memory makes her beam, an uncontrollable grin breaking across her face, and when she turns to Azriel, her careful eyes pick out the way he marks it, whatever tension remaining in his shoulders melting away, “I did. I played the crap out of that pianoforte.”

“I wish I could have heard it.”

“I can show you, if you want,” Asteria offers, the eager magic inside her already stirring.

The Illyrian beside her smiles, the mischief from before returning into his burning hazel gaze, “I like that idea.”

Asteria is about to offer him another bead of magic, but before she can, Azriel stands.

She looks up at his tall, lean form in confusion, “What are you doing?”

“Standing. I thought that was obvious,” Azriel deadpans, “Perhaps you should ask me what I’m thinking about.”

“I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Please, humor me.”

Suspicious, yet tremendously curious, Asteria does, “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking that we fly down to that music store, and you play the pianoforte for me,” The Shadowsinger explains, his wings twitching in anticipation.

“The music store?” Asteria echoes, “The same one I was just attacked in?”

“You’ll be kept safe.”

“You seem sure of yourself,” Asteria says, “What if they send another attack?”

Azriel holds out his hand, offering it to the silver-haired female, “We deal with it.”

“This is a bad idea,” Asteria mutters as she takes Azriel’s hand, actions betraying her words as he pulls her to her feet, the blanket wrapped around her billowing in a chilled winter breeze.

“Probably,” Azriel nods, “Though I can’t bring myself to care.”

Turning her gaze to where the property ends, a drop off of sudden darkness illuminated only by the stars above and the city lights below.

Flying with Rhysand in broad daylight had been one thing, the High Lord taking half an hour to assure the female that it would be fine, but this– this is something else entirely.

Asteria remembers what it felt like to fall through this sky, and through the skies of whatever distant realms she’d passed on the way here. She recalls how the dagger felt hilt-deep in her chest, and the frigid, icy fear that came with anticipating that her death would arrive sooner rather than later.

The memory sends a shiver down her spine, and not realizing it, the female had taken up a death grip on the Shadowsinger’s hand.

“Don’t drop me,” Asteria meekly get out.

“I won’t.”

“No, seriously, I fell from the stars once already, and I have no intention of doing it again.”

“Asteria, look at me,” Azriel softly utters, waiting for the female’s green eyes to connect with his hazel ones. The moment they do, Azriel’s hand squeezes hers, and the building dread in her chest lessens itself, “Do you trust me?”

“Am I going to regret answering you?”

“Definitely.”

Asteria gulps, “Yes. I trust you.”

“Then I suggest you hang on.”

“What do you mea– AZRIEL!”

In an instant the Shadowsinger sweeps her up, blanket and all, his arms hooking beneath her legs and under her back, holding her tightly to his chest while powerful wings launch them straight up into the air, Asteria’s startled yelp drowned out by the wind rushing past her ears.

Locking her arms as tightly she can muster around his neck, Asteria’s heart drops beneath the pit of her stomach when her eyes lock onto the earth hundreds of feet below them.

And when Azriel suddenly tucks in his wings and dives, her heart plummets even further.

“Ohgodsohgodsohgodsohgods,” The silver-haired female fearfully squeaks out, instinctually squeezing her eyes closed and hiding her face in Azriel’s neck as they pick up speed, far too panicked for his calming night-chilled mist and cedar scent to slow her racing heart.

Then, wings shooting out, they hit an updraft, the plummeting decent halting completely. The sound of wings flapping steadily fills the open air, and Azriel easily glides through the chilled night sky.

“You okay?” The Shadowsinger asks, a slight chuckle catching Asteria’s attention.

She lifts her face from his skin, catching the way his cobalt siphons gleam brightly enough that she can see his face and the amused expression he wears. Asteria curses him in her mind, unable to bring herself to speak this high up.

Chuckling once again, Azriel lets them drift closer to the ever-welcoming ground, “If you think this is bad, then never fly with Cassian.”

Asteria nods, unable to keep herself from hiding her face in Azriel’s neck once more, feeling how the arms that are holding her seem to tighten in response, a silent and unrelenting reassurance that the male would not allow her to fall away from him.

When they finally reach the street, Azriel lands on the cobblestones with confident, practiced ease that seems as natural as the breathes that leave his chest.

Her feet on the ground, Asteria heaves in a relieved breath, allowing herself to release the iron clasp grip she’d had around Azriel’s neck.

The Shadowsinger keeps a hand on the female’s back, the warmth of it reassuring, strong, and steady as some of his shadows flood into the cracks of a now boarded up window. The same window that had completely shattered when an arrow meant for Asteria sprung through it earlier that day.

By impulse, Asteria’s gaze flicks up to the wall the archer had been poised atop of. She can hear the thwang! Of the bowstring releasing, the roar of the arrow soaring towards her. She can feel the centuries old killing calm flood over her, the calm beating of her heart over roaring adrenaline. A death blow. At least, it would have been if she hadn’t snatched it out of midair.

Now, in the dim light of night there’s nothing visible to her. No one besides the Shadowsinger.

It’s safe, the Realm around her nothing but silent.

A silence that’s laid to rest when Azriel uses his dagger, an elegant blade he’s revealed to her as Truth-Teller, to aid him in prying off a the boards covering the window.

As soon as they’re loose, the dark haired male rips the boards loose, gently setting them aside before stepping into the shop with a light-footed ease that must have come with his centuries-long career as the Spymaster of the Night Court.

“This feels criminal,” Asteria whispers with a playful smile, taking Azriel’s hand when he offers it to her, helping her past a remnants of broken glass as he clears it away with his boots. She doesn’t need the help, she’s proven that much, but it’s the kind of gesture that makes her heart pound a bit harder in her chest. A gentleness she’d forgotten a long time ago.

“That’s because it is.”

“Oh, good,” Asteria snorts, “I was starting to think breaking and entering was strictly an Erilean crime.”

Azriel looks at her over his shoulder wearing an amused smile so brightly delightful that it warms the entirety of Asteria’s being.

The Shadowsinger was often unreadable, but when he smiled…

To say the sight is devastating would be the understatement of the century.

Asteria can’t help the breath that leaves her, not even able to comprehend what he’d said to her, and in order to recover and hopefully avoid Azriel taking notice of the effect he has on her, she clears her throat and sets her focus on the very thing they’d come here for.

The pianoforte.

Settling onto the bench, Asteria smiles to herself, removing her gloves and running her hands over the smooth, polished wood that covers the ivory keys beneath. The greedy side of her wants to lift it and play until the joints in her fingers ache and she can’t sit up straight. But the rational part of her, the one that had been screaming for her to be cautious since she fell from the sky, speaks up.

“What if Murry hears?” Asteria finds herself asking, a nervous feeling suddenly gnawing at the pit of her gut.

Azriel’s brow quirks up, and he moves to sit on the bench beside the silver-haired female, his massive form more apparent than ever on the small seat, “He won’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“He lives in an apartment across town, and he doesn’t have any security wards in place. He has no way of knowing we’re here,” Azriel explains, “We’re fine, Ria.”

All the questions, all the caution in Asteria’s mind quiets. Any thought wondering how he knew where Murry lived after a single encounter dancing in the square, how she’s supposed to play for him without alerting anybody, or when Azriel had even checked for wards slips from her mind.

Maybe it’s the nickname, or how he looks down her with a gaze so soft that she could cry, but Asteria realizes two things at once. Two things that are so simple, but also so world shattering that for the second time in only a few moments, the female loses her breath once again.

The first; She trusts Azriel, wholly and completely.

And the second; for the first time in a long time, Asteria has found something, someone, who makes her happy.

It’s the trading of secrets beneath a glorious night sky, and seeking him out in every room she walks into. It’s early morning training and a mischievous glint in hazel eyes before taking off in flight. It’s splitting a bottle of wine and shadows calming building panic. It’s freedom. It’s rediscovering music, and dancing in a square with strangers. It’s sneaking off into the dark to play a piano.

It’s her reality. She could be happy here. In Prythian. She could be happy with Azriel in her life. With the court she’d fallen into.

Her thoughts pulsing in her mind, Asteria doesn’t even realize she’d opened the piano’s cover until the fingers of one of her hands are pressing down on ivory, the chords she unconsciously chooses filling the air with a joyous sound. Bright and warm, like being bathed in sunlight.

Catching herself, Asteria pauses, unable to keep from smiling, blinking away the happy tears that had snuck up on her.

Unfortunately, Azriel notices.

His arm curls around her back, and the silver-haired female allows herself to lean into the Shadowsinger, releasing a breathy chuckle when a shadow swirls around her fingertips.

“What’s wrong?” Azriel asks, frowning.

“Nothing,” Asteria says, beaming up at him and quickly wiping at her eyes, “Absolutely nothing. Anything you want to hear?”

The concern doesn’t leave Azriel’s gleaming Hazel eyes, but he does give her another mischievous smirk, “Do you know anything from this Realm?”

“No,” Asteria grins.

“Then play me something from yours.”

Humming in agreement, Asteria thinks for a second. It had been so long since she’d played that she doubts she’d even remember any of the pieces she’d written.

But then, a memory slinks forward.

It had been the day she’d showed up at Aelin’s warehouse apartment, much to Rowan and Aedion’s discontent, but Aelin didn’t mind. She’d been welcoming. She wanted Asteria’s raw, unrestrained power on their side.

More than that, Aelin recognized Asteria’s name.

Not as a part of the Cadre, not as a warrior, but as a composer.

Asteria had dreamed up a composition that Aelin had been obsessed with, and the Heir of Terrasen wanted the piece written down.

Asteria had obliged, and promised to one day play it for the blonde female, but she never got the chance before Maeve cast her out on that damned beach.

So, straightening her spine, Asteria closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and she starts to play.

Last time, earlier that day, Asteria had been tentative, almost scared to press her fingers down onto the ivory.

But here, now, whatever had held her back had been killed and left behind in the dust.

The silver haired female plays with vigor, attacking the keys the same way she strikes with a sword; with the precision that only came with decades upon decades of practice and training.

The melody thunders through the instrument, the music rising and swelling only to fade when Asteria commands it to, the highs and lows that make this piece so complex.

It’s something she’d written so long ago, a gift to the male she once believed to be her mate, and for a while it was only his. That is, until he’d encouraged her to turn it into a symphony.

Then, the piece had been played all over the continent, and then beyond. And Asteria’s name became associated with something other than Maeve, other than violence.

Asteria Relridaar’s first act of defiance against the Queen she served.

Focused, Asteria lets the passion pour from her, directly from her soul. Her entire body alight from the music in her mind, soul, and heart. Each press of the keys encourages the next, beckoning to her through the centuries of blood and pain and guiding her to a different path. To a new reality.

The one she lives now. Free. Happy.

Her soul, the deepest, most loveliest part of her, the one where her music comes from, shines.

The piece comes to an eventual end, and when it does, Asteria slowly opens her eyes, lashes fluttering as she eases out of the trance the music had put her in, finding herself surrounded by light.

All around her, small beads of magic, each one glowing like a small sun, hang in the air in every direction, some in front of her, some up high near the ceiling.

In the soft glow that surrounds them, Asteria looks over to Azriel, finding his hazel eyes gleaming, seemingly glowing in the light of the magic, and a small crease between his brows, his mouth parted.

“You…” He trails off, voice a bit more hoarse than the last time she’d heard it, “You are magnificent.”

Heart thudding against her sternum, Asteria tries to catch her breath, his words igniting something deep within her soul that had been cold for so long that she’d forgotten about it completely.

She opens her mouth to speak, Azriel’s dark, mysterious beauty now completely overwhelming.

So overwhelming, that when his gaze briefly darts to her lips, Asteria’s toes curl in her boots, and she finds her mind completely consumed by nothing but the scent of mist and cedar.

Asteria lets herself shift closer to him, feeling Azriel’s hand that hadn’t left her back shift down to her hip, tugging her closer.

He slowly inches down, hazel eyes carefully watching Asteria, as if expecting her to startle, or to bolt away faster than he’d be able to follow.

But she can’t. She doesn’t even know how it would be possible for her to do anything else than melt into the solid male beside her.

Azriel’s forehead rests against hers, warm breath fanning against her face while the knuckles of his other hand slowly graze the edge of her jaw, stirring up a warm, frenzied feeling in her stomach, like a swarm of butterflies taking flight for the first time in a century.

Feeling her own hands trembling, Asteria peels them from the piano, tentatively running her hands up Azriel’s chest and feeling the way he sharply inhales at the touch.

She leans up, letting her eyes flutter shut as their lips brush, just slightly, just enough for every nerve in Asteria’s body to ignite.

A pleasant burn that only blazes hotter when Azriel’s hand slides into her hair, gently tilting her head back to a better angle, one that he needs.

Asteria knows she has no right to touch him, to crave him like the very air she breathes, and yet she finds herself doing both. And when he puts his mouth on hers, kissing her as though she’s something to treasure, she recognizes the taste of him, like he’d been made just for her.

Azriel’s lips are soft, and he tastes like mint and sugar; A taste that Asteria already knows she’ll never get enough of. An addiction that will never be fully satiated.

Barely in control of her own body, her self-control long abandoned, Asteria’s hands travel upwards, her fingers sinking into Azriel’s thick, dark hair, the strands soft against her hands.

Azriel lets out a low noise from the back of her throat, sending a tingle up Asteria’s spine.

Slowly, as though it takes everything in him, Azriel eases away. A new flush of colour tinting his cheeks and the tops of his ears pink, and Asteria is absolutely certain her face mirrors his.

Asteria tries to find something to say, only to find herself so giddy, so in disbelief over what they’d just done, that she can only manage a grin before she’s hiding her face against Azriel’s shoulder, hearing his low chuckle rumble through her bones.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Asteria asks after a long beat, her voice rasping in her throat.

“Please.”

“Earlier, when you asked if I missed you while you were away…” Asteria says, pulling away from Azriel so she’s able to look at his face, “I-I did. Miss you, I mean.”

His eyes shine with something Asteria can’t place in the soft light around them, “I owe you a secret in return.”

“I guess you do.”

“I missed you too, Asteria.”

Asteria feels heat burn her cheeks, a result of their kiss, or his molten gaze threatening to make her melt right where she sits, she isn’t sure.

Just then, there’s movement in her peripheral vision, and with reflexes like an asp, Asteria whips her head towards it, only to find a wisp of shadow curled around one of the smaller beads of magic that surround them. The shadow doesn’t balk, or cower from the light, and the light doesn’t dissipate, or shred through the darkness.

The shadow whips around it curiously, harmlessly.

Like a dance.

The sight makes both Azriel and Asteria chuckle, the sound drawing the shadows attention, making it dart to the female and excitedly whirl around her long silver braid, were it stays, seemingly unable to leave her.

“We should probably go,” Asteria says, mentally trying to find any excuse to stay in the small music shop for a few moments longer.

Azriel looks down at her, a brow quirked, “We can’t.”

“We can’t?”

“No,” The Shadowsinger says, his wondrous smile gracing his lips yet again, “Not until you teach me that piece.”

Asteria can’t help but match the male’s expression, “We may be in for a long night then.”

“I sincerely hope so.”

—-

The Shadowsinger and the Realm Reader return to the house of wind after hours pressed shoulder to shoulder on a piano bench, Asteria teaching Azriel the music of her heart, and him picking up on it immediately.

She had been completely surprised by the Illyrian male’s talent. His long fingers struck the ivory keys of the pianoforte with a deft familiarity that pleased Asteria to no end, and made her soul sing a long forgotten hymn.

They’d been surrounded by music, beams of light and whisps of shadow, while they stole moment after moment in what felt like their own reality. A space, a place in time that belongs only to them. To a few more stolen kisses in empty music shops.

It’s all Asteria thinks about when Azriel lands in their late night meeting spot, her entire body tingling with anticipation and two simple questions;

Will he kiss her again? And will he take her to bed?

Feet meeting the earth, Asteria’s hands linger around Azriel’s neck, his warm palms coming to rest at her waist.

But before anything can be said, a throat clears.

The sound jolts both Asteria and Azriel, the pair of them stepping away from each other in an instant, turning to face the one that had alarmed them.

Elain Archeron.

“Asteria,” The doe-eyed female greets, a kind smile on her lips, “I’ve been waiting to speak to you.”

Suspicion seeps into Asteria’s most primal instinct, and she can’t keep her brow from raising, “About?”

“Az, if you could give us a moment,” Elain kindly requests. The female is in her dress from earlier in the evening, long sleeved and soft pink, a few floral embellishments along the skirt covered by a warm looking jacket, like she had actually been waiting outside for quite some time awaiting the other female’s return.

The Shadowsinger nods, warm gaze connecting with Asteria’s for a long beat, a soft smile on his lips when he reaches for her hand, giving it a warm squeeze before he heads towards the house, nodding to Elain when he moves past her and inside.

As soon as the door snicks shut behind him, Elain’s smile doesn’t drop, but something in her gaze becomes more serious– more severe.

Asteria marks the shift, and crosses her arms across her chest, preparing herself for whatever the middle Archeron has to say.

“Rhysand bought a piece of land by the River,” Elain begins, “A solstice gift for Feyre. A place for her to build them a home of her own design. It’s all quite lovely, really.”

Asteria’s eyes narrow, “I’m sure it is.”

“My sister, the High Lady, asked me if I’d like to plan out the estate’s garden.”

“That’s quite the honor.”

Elain’s head tilts thoughtfully, “It is, isn’t it? There is, however, an unfortunate issue.”

“Which would be?”

“I can’t bring myself to plan a garden for a land that’s rotting away.”

The warmth that had been alight within Asteria disappears completely, instead, dread runs up Asteria’s spine. She inhales deeply, fists clenching.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Elain continues, “I don’t know much about you, just what Feyre has told me, which is that you are the only person with the magic capable of healing the realm. I’d hate to watch the land my sister’s Mate bought for her wither away because of a strange female’s irresponsibility.”

Asteria’s words are ice-cold when she speaks, “Believe me when I tell you, I take the well-being of your realm very seriously.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“If you did, I believe that your every free moment should be spent preventing the destruction of-”

“Stop talking,” Asteria suddenly grits out, Elain halting completely from the venom filled voice of the Realm Reader, “From what I understand, your immortality is new to you. Mine is not. I have spent three of your lifetimes learning the rules and laws of nature and magic in my own realm. I did not choose to be here, but I am. I do not have claim to any power, or magic, or trust from this realm. It’s complicated, but I’m trying. I’m learning. I’m doing what I can, so I do apologize if this magic that you don’t understand isn’t moving at a place that you’d like.”

Elain’s once kind smile deepens into a frown, large brown eyes boring at Asteria as the silver haired female takes a couple steps towards her, continuing, “This is beyond you, Elain. It may even be beyond me, but I swear to you that I’m trying.”

Standing within arms length, Asteria watches as Elain’s spine straightens, and she lifts her chin, a look Asteria recognizes immediately; It’s Elain drawing up her courage. Something Asteria can pick out so clearly, because she’s done it a million times herself.

“What about Azriel?” Elain asks.

Asteria’s brows furrow, “What about him?”

“He’s had a difficult life.”

“I know that.”

“I’m sure you think you do,” Elain snaps, something Asteria suspects is a rare thing for her, “He’s been through a lot, far too much to explain, and now, after the war, I think we can agree he’s deserving of something… Gentle.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you’re a jagged edge,” Elain states, “And not what he needs.”

A jagged edge.

The words hit Asteria like a punch to the gut, but she doesn’t show it. She refuses to. She doesn’t get fire back, because if she does, it would be hard to stop.

She can’t imagine the Court would be so accepting of her if she slaughtered the High Lady’s sister exactly where she stands.

Roping in her anger, and the rage slowly starting to burn inside her gut, Asteria takes a deep breath and starts tunneling rapidly into her well of power.

“Hm,” Asteria hums, feeling her eye twitch before she meets Elain’s gaze. The Archeron female flinches at her stare, which Asteria takes as her own small victory, “Plan your garden, Elain.”

“What?”

“Plan your garden,” Asteria sneers, knowing exactly what she’s about to do while moving past the female and into the House of Wind, hearing the greetings of the inner circle, but not stopping to return them.

Asteria moves through the house until she finds the staircase.

When she’d first woken up after her fall from the nigh sky, Rhysand had given her a tour of the house she’d be staying in, explaining that the two ways out of the estate were either by flight, or by ten thousand stairs.

With the rage building inside of her, and her focus spinning deeper and deeper into her own magic, ten thousand seems small.

As she descends, Asteria mutters angrily to herself; harsh curse words and the middle Archeron sister’s name spilling out in the fleury of vexed rambling as she heads down, down, down.

By the time she reaches the ground, Asteria’s legs burn like they did when she first started training as a child in Doranelle, her stomach flips uncomfortably, but she doesn’t care. Not when she hits the bottom of her well of power.

Gritting her teeth, Asteria stalks towards the woods, pushing hard against the barrier of her own magic, trying to find what had been there before Prythian and finding nothing.

She doesn’t stop trying, though. Walking deeper into the treeline she slams again and again into the bottom of the pit, trying to crack the ground, dive through it– anything. But coming up with nothing.

Still, Asteria doesn’ falter.

Finding herself surrounded by trees, the only sound around her being the clicks from insects and the occasional rustle of tree branches in the winter wind, Asteria sinks to her knees.

Ripping her gloves off of her hands, the female sinks them into the earth.

Then, the Realm Reader rips her magic up from the bottom of the pit. She latches onto it with an iron grip, tearing it upwards and through her before plunging it into the Realm.

Elain had been wrong, Asteria isn’t a just a jagged edge, she’s bloody knuckles and layers of scars. She’s more than that– She’s a blade.

A blade that had been forged in fire, beaten again and again, and honed to perfection over the centuries. A fighter. A blademaster. The most powerful fae in all of Erilea.

She knows it. It’s time this Realm learns it too.

When the Realm’s voice comes through, no doubt to dismiss the female, Asteria silences it.

She brings her magic down fiercely, and without mercy, feeling it spread out beneath her. The light burns, singing her hands as the Realm tries to reject it, but Asteria doesn’t care. She grits her teeth, pushing harder, faster– Relentless.

Feeling the surge of energy, Asteria shouts, feeling herself already beginning to tire, to burn out completely.

So she keeps going.

The light floods from her, deeper and deeper into the core of the Realm before whatever had been keeping her at bay, whatever had been resisting her, snaps completely.

Screaming, Asteria watches a web of light beneath her dart out in every direction, disappearing further than she can see before a single beam of light shoots up from the earth and into her chest.

Asteria is silenced by the bone shattering pain that explodes into her chest, the ache flowing upwards into her skull and past her mental shields as though they were made of a single thread.

Her memories, the most painful ones, play out in her mind’s eye. She sees herself swearing her life to Maeve, to the bloodshed she’d carried out in the Queen’s name. She sees the moment she was handed over to Cairn in front of the entire court.

It’s this moment, this excruciating sting, that Asteria knows what’s happening.

Someone is in her head, walking through her life, just as she’s done to so many others.

“No,” Asteria manages to grit out, reaching into her well of power for more magic, just a drop more, enough to stop this as reels of her own torture play out before her, “No!”

With a cry, Asteria whips out the last bead of her magic, the light making itself a blade and plunging into her own chest, severing the connection with a final burst of light that echoes out beyond the forest, shaking trees in its wake.

Gasping, Asteria falls face down into the singed grass, her ears ringing and limbs feeling like they’ve been filled with lead. Her heart beats erratically, and she’s barely able to draw breath into her lungs.

At the edge of consciousness and something unfamiliar, Asteria thinks of her home. She thinks of Erilea. Of the forests and caverns she’d explored and the friends she’d once made. All the things she’d lost.

Before she fades, there’s a voice in her head that she doesn’t recognize.

I understand now, it says, Where no High Lord or Lady would ever return, I will be waiting. With the silence that follows, Asteria plunges into icy darkness.

-----

Taglist; let me know if you'd like to be added!:)

@bionic-donut @hollyismentallyillhelp @younxii @feyretopia @hideing @eat-cake @warzaines @brekkershadowsinger

Let me know what you think, and if you have any predictions about what happens next!:)

#acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #tog!oc #tog oc #acotar fanfiction #acotar oc #acomaf #acowar #inner circle x oc #in the stars #elain archeron #azriel fanfiction #inner circle #sjm books #bookfic

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the-messenger-hawk · 11 months

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ToG OC (I literally had a dream about this guy, so it's only fair that I draw him):

"Cheongryong" or Fang informally

He's another failed "prince" candidate who wanders the Tower. Fang is the victim of a genetic mutation that caused him to be afflicted with a thought to be incurable degenerative disease. As a result, he ages at an accelerated rate and appears far older than he should, including all the drawbacks on his health. Although he holds some small hope on the possibility of a cure, Fang has mostly resigned himself to his body giving out first. Despite his situation, he's been known to lean into the 'old man' persona for the sake of convenience or humor, and is patient with other peoples' misunderstandings of him. Also, he is an accomplished poet. Although an extraordinary wave controller, Fang's degeneration limits his physicality in a fight.

#tower of god #my ocs #ocs #oc: cheongryong #tog oc

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local-writer · 1 month

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Me, wanting to see tog ocs like;

Pls I beg, I can't pay with money cause I'm broke but I can pay with all the love for your characters just lemme see, I wanna talk about tog and all the badass characters people come up with 😭

#tower of god #tog #tog oc #pls #tower of god oc #or we can just talk about tog

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mj-chan · 11 months

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Jules Viole Khun

Age: 17

Position: mainly light bearer but he can also use the ice spear.

Jules is smarter than the average kid, he likes to think he is a genius that surpasses his father. When he got older, he began to skip classes since these were too boring for him. He likes having a good challenge, something that can stimulate his brain. Being the oldest of the siblings is always a huge responsibility for Jules. If something were to happen to his father, he would be the next head of family. Which is a thing he didn't like to think about. Knowing how strong his parents are, it's not something that is bound to happen soon.

Jules' relationship with Khun is complex. Due to their prideful nature, arguments are bound to happen. Part of him admires his father's brilliant mind while another part of him hates how different and strict he is around him, compared to his sister. There are times where he feels unloved even if it's not the case. On some rare occasions, Khun does take Jules on some father and son fishing trips. It's not much, but Jules enjoys those moments of peace and quiet.

As for Bam, his other dad, he always lends a listening ear to whatever concerns or problems Jules might have. He tries to spend as much time as he can with him. Jules can always count on his dad's wise words and comfort when times are hard. Jules tends to hide his feelings behind some snarky remarks and his overconfident demeanor. Rare are the people that can truly see Jules' kind side. He thinks that showing too much of his emotional side makes him weak. He is not much of a hugger even if deep down he would love some physical affection. The only time he lets loose is around his little sister.

He tries his hardest to be a good older brother and will even prioritize her safety over his. He never blamed her for the changes in his life. Jules is convincing with his words, making sure she doesn't worry too much about him. That doesn't mean he neglected his physical training. Jules is proficient at using knives, his throws are almost impeccable. Sometimes, he will infuse his blades with ice shinsu. He can also create an ice spear but barely uses it because he isn't totally confident in his skills. He doesn't like how cold and heavy it is to hold. He prefers playing around his lighthouse, he could spend nights thinking of new clevers ways to make use of it. He even pestered Hachuling to teach him some of his hacking skills.

Charlène Grace Khun

Age: 16

Position: Wave controller (can uses lightning shinsu)

Charlène is seen as elegant and polite. Some may think she is intimidating but on the contrary she is kind with a heart of gold and an affectionate side. Jules might even say she is too kind for her own good. She worries for the people around her and she looks out for her family's well being. She tries to put out her brightest smile whenever she can. She seems to be the perfect child, but behind her smiles hides all her insecurities and fears. She admires both her fathers and her brother deeply and tries her best to be at their level. Sometimes, she feels like she is behind them. She doesn't have a lot of confidence when it comes to her abilities even if she has great potential.

In all honesty, she never liked fighting or conflicts and tries to keep peace around her. There is always this fear of hurting the ones she holds dear to her heart and being alone. Nonetheless, she still learnt martial arts along with her uncle Ji sung and how to use shinsu so she can defend herself in dire situations. Charlène has a natural talent when it comes to shinsu, similar to Bam. She is also proficient with lightning which is why Khun "asked" Maschenny to teach her some things or two. One time, Charlène accidently zapped Jules with her lightning. She apologized so many times, he couldn't stay mad at her.

Khun has a much more soft side when it comes to Charlène. She is the youngest and her gentle personality reminds him so much of Bam in his younger days. Rumors are that Khun sometimes lets her win against him at chess. Bam can understand Charlène struggles and will be there when she needs his support. He is always here to remind her that being different from Khun and Jules isn't a bad thing and that nothing could replace her kindness. He does teach her some useful things based on his own experiences. She is always eager to spend time with Bam

Charlène is very supportive of her older brother. She will be the first one to cheer on him whenever he accomplishes something or when he feels down. She admires his skills and guts, she secretly wishes she could be more like him. Charlène could spend hours sitting on the grass while watching the night sky along with her family. Whenever there was a shooting star, she closed her eyes and wished for her family's happiness.

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immersilly · 1 year

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Immer ito again 😔☹️

#tog #tower of god #Tog anime #Anime #kami no tou #Fake screenshot #Screenshot #Oc #Tog oc #Kami not tou oc #tower of god oc #art #immer ito #immer kamiyama #tower of god immer #oc

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notsomeloncholy · 2 months

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Gave Uvee a redesign-she's like a chameleon...togruta. now. ✨️

#art #artists on tumblr #illustration #illustrators on tumblr #star wars #swocs #togruta #melonography #melons ocs #uvee #still a watermelon tog #cant be caught goin off brand can we

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readychilledwine · 3 months

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💕Valentine's Day Bingo Masterlist💕

We have a Bingo Blackout

(Not in posting order)

Breeding Cassian x reader

Housewife Azriel x reader

CNC - manorian X reader

Group Play - Tamlin x Tarquin x Lucien x Reader

Cuckold - Helion x Feyre x Rhys

Monsterfucking - Tamlin x Reader

Temperature play - Lucien x reader

Size Kink - Azriel x reader

Glory Hole - Cassian x reader

Dollification - Azriel x Seraphina

Praise - Eris X Reader

Threesome - Azriel x Reader x Lucien

Exhibition - Rhys x Drumming Song Reader

Orgasm Control - Ruhn x Reader

Discipline - Helion x Reader

Shadow Play - Rhys x Reader

Somno - Rhys x reader

Predator/Prey - Eris x Reader

Tagteam - Lorcan x Reader x Rowan

Impact Play - Helion x Reader

Shibari - Tarquin x Reader

Breathplay - Rowan x Reader

Auralism- Rhys x Reader

Bonus content:

Pet play - Eris x Reader

Predator/Prey - Rhys x Nesta

Electricity Play - Hunt x Reader

Shadow Play - Ruhn x Reader

Voyeurism - Amarantha x reader x dark!rhys

Edge Play - sub!Lucien x domme! Reader

Collaring - Hunt x reader

As you all know, I am a slut for dividers and love using different ones for my characters and special little events. I am trying to get better at crediting the artists who make them because that takes some time and dedication. Plus, they are also typically sharing their skills and content for free.

That being said:

Special thank you to:

@cafekitsune for sharing their beautiful graphic design skills with all of us. I am using this divider from them, but there are SO MANY options. Please peep their page! 💕

Another special thank you to @saradika-graphics When I was hunting for a MDNI divider, I ended up finding this instead, and it does match my feelings so much more. She also has a ton of graphic design work that she shared for free. Please check out her work as well 💕

#acotar #acotar x reader #send asks #send anons #tog x oc #throne of glass x reader #cc x reader #crescent city x reader #readychilledwine valentines day bingo

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oliviajdjarin · 11 months

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Azriel Shadowsinger: Inertia

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Request: "Hello, I just finished reading your most recent Az work & it was so wonderful ❤️ & I was wondering if you are still taking requests? If so, I was thinking maybe one where reader is helping Az into his leathers and like tying all his armor into place and stuff before he goes off to the war (or just a dangerous mission) and then after he comes back reader also helps him take it all off & just go to bed🥺❤️ If you have time or feel inspired to write this, I would appreciate it."

Warnings: blood, descriptions of gore, knives, cuts, vivid descriptions of anxiety, descriptions of scars, nudity, nightmares, bruises, kissing, very much off canon, pretty much just hurt comfort.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Thank you very much to the person who requested this to me. I am so sorry I cannot find your username anymore, but I hope I have done justice to your idea. And of course thank you to my readers for all the love on my recent fics :)

If you'd like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3

SJM Masterlist

(pic credit to pinterest)

The Spymaster of the Night Court liked to think he was split in half. Two persons in one body.

The first, the Shadowsinger. Carynthian. One of the most powerful Illyrian warriors to ever exist. Member of the most powerful High Lord's inner circle. Servant of his shadows and infamous throughout all of Prythian.

The second, completely, utterly, entirely owned by the female in his arms.

Your breaths spanned across his chest like waves on sand, spreading across his skin like water, leaving trails of chills in their wake. Your nude body was warm, silky, and serene, rested completely on top of him as if you were holding him down against his will.

In reality, Azriel prayed he died like this. Fully encapsulated by you and only you.

Your body rose as he inhaled and lowered as he exhaled. Your tiny squeaks of breath were a rush of blood to his head. He continually ran his scarred hands across your back and down your spine as you slept, soaking in the feeling of your skin and the storm within his chest at bay. He knew it wouldn't be for long.

He seemed to always be running out of time.

As the minutes ticked on, made apparent by the wooden clock next to his bed, he could feel the first half of his self slowly taking over the second. He could feel the blood lust, the cool rage, the hardening of his heart already beginning to take place. With his mate in his arms, it felt wrong, like he was holding glass his body was itching to drop.

Because of this, he kissed you.

"Y/N," he mumbled against your lips, kissing you again. "Y/N."

He was met with a lucid groan deep within your throat, and he kissed you again.

"I have to go."

With those words your eyes opened, and Az was blinded by their radiance, as he is every day. The area around your eyes was slightly puffed from sleep, adding to the intimacy and mundanity of simply waking up together. Azriel wished he could drink it. Pour it into a glass to perhaps sip on later, when the half of himself he was becoming less and less proud of as the years went on became too much.

You rubbed at said eyes, your body heat against his warming at your increasing blood flow. You leaned forward, propping yourself up and away from him. He sat up with you and wrapped an arm around your waist.

He was desolate without your touch, desperate for as much of it as he could have before having to leave it.

"I'm up," you whispered, yawning. "I'm up."

He chuckled and tucked his mouth against your neck, kissing just underneath your jaw. The softest, most favorite area of his to kiss on you. Your pulse thumping against his lips. Your very life against his mouth.

He was going to fucking miss you.

You pulled him away from you to give his lips a peck before scooting down to the edge of the bed, standing completely up, and stretching your spine and shoulders. Rolling them backwards and forwards, side to side. The line down your back was accentuated as you did this, as well as the shade of your skin in the rising sun.

If Azriel had the choice, he would have kept you in that bedroom all day, and all night, and for all of eternity.

You then made your way across the room to a cushioned chair, draped with every piece of his leathers laid out and ready. He hated the look of it - these agents of carnage on such delicate fabric. It felt absurd, almost sinister.

What was worse was the image of you walking towards them and lifting his tunic into your arms. You faced him, holding it at the ready, and he got up from bed with a sigh. It was deep, bottomless.

He stayed standing anyway.

He walked to you, also nude, and held eye-contact as he did. Your eyes were sunken and sad, but in a way that was not vibrant or pungent. It was in a way that showed you were used to this sadness and fear, that you and your body knew how to handle it.

Always running out of time.

He held up his arms and you slid the tunic over his head. You then turned back around and retrieved his pants, allowing him to step into them. As you buttoned them securely, making sure they were tight enough for his comfort, you began to speak.

"Where to today?" you asked, and despite the dread growing in his stomach, he smiled.

You always asked him for details of his missions before he left for them, desperate for any and every characteristic of them. He always wondered why you did this. He didn't know if you wanted an image of everything that could go wrong, everything that could go right, or even a bit of both.

Part of him wanted to know, but most of him did not.

"Rhys is worried," Azriel replied. "Beron is getting worse, according to Eris anyway, and plans on meeting with the mortal queens in the Autumn Court tonight at dusk. Eris is meant to sneak me in so I can get a read on what they're planning."

You hummed, finishing off his pants and reaching behind you to add his vest. You then began adding his padding, and your eyes remained focused on his body.

"You don't like that?"

You shrugged. "I don't trust Eris."

He nodded, helping you smooth the vest down comfortably to his body. "I wish I could disagree with you."

You looked up at him then, leaving your hands on his pecks. "You shouldn't be going alone."

"I have to," he replied. "Cassian can't be incognito for shit."

You smiled faintly, but the dull fear remained.

"Besides, I'm never alone," he said, gesturing behind him. "My shadows will keep me safe, alert me if something is going wrong, and protect me."

Your breath was warm against his face as you said, "And you will get out of there if they tell you to, if your gut is telling you to."

He held your face in his hands. "I will get out of there, and I will come back home."

You nodded, still unconvinced, but kissed him anyway.

You then added his pauldrons to his legs and thighs, smoothing them against his pants and assisting him with his boots, before finally latching on his shoulder and stomach spaulder. He could feel some tension relieve on your shoulders as you did this, allowing the knowledge that despite entering enemy territory, he was still protected. His heart and vital organs were protected by the best Rhysand could get.

He could see a little bit of his mate come back into herself as you processed that knowledge. It wasn't enough, he knew that, but it helped you, and that was more than enough for him.

You gave the covering a quick jab, both to test the strength and cut the tension, sending Az staggering back a few steps. You both smiled at each other as he found his footing.

"How does a warning sound for next time?" he chuckled.

"Tell that to your fancy shadows," you countered, and he shook his head, his eyes a glowing gold.

Never enough time.

You then picked up his gloves from the cushioned chair, and held the pair of them in one hand while taking his left hand in the other. You rubbed a thumb down his scars, tracing each divot and crease, before pressing a swift kiss to his palm. You then pulled the matching glove on over the skin, and repeated the process with his right hand.

That act, that simple kiss and touch, was more intimate and profound than any act of sex the two of you had ever and would ever share to him. It showed him that you acknowledged it for what it was - painful, foreign, damaged - but also saw it for its beauty. Its symbolism of survival and strength. Its necessity for him to become the male he was today.

It's safe to say he cried like a true Illyrian baby when you kissed him like that the first time, and teared up every time after that.

After his gloves were on him comfortably, you put on the finishing touches of his leathers before taking a few steps back, you admiring him, and him admiring you. Him wrapped in wealth and power, shadow and danger, death and cool, icy focus on his objective. You, bare to him, soft, vulnerable, pure, stripped clean of anything and everything except for who you truly were.

On Azriel's dark days, he believed that in that moment, you both were who you truly were.

You looked him up and down, the playfulness and peace from a few moments before slowly dissipating from the air, and he pulled you back to him when he saw the fear enter your eyes again. The rough leather against your soft skin made him feel dirty, nauseous even at the thought of you getting anywhere close to the person he became when he wore them, but he pushed the feeling to the side as best as he could.

"I will come home," he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. "I will come home."

You nodded, eyes slowly lining with tears, and he elected to console you with touch. Bestowing kisses against your hairline, down your temples, across your cheeks, down your nose, and nearly against your lips.

Never to your lips. It was his silent promise that he would be back, and he would kiss you well.

He pressed one last kiss against your mouth before departing from the room, not looking back, the first half of his personhood taking control, and the cool focus of the Spymaster and Shadowsinger of the Night Court overtook his being completely.

~*~

Azriel's wish came true. He could disagree with you about not trusting Eris, because he was the only reason Azriel got out of there undetected, unscathed, and uninjured.

Azriel did not, however, trust him to keep his fucking mouth shut. The entire way there and back, constantly vague, rogue comments about Mor never telling anyone the full story of what happened between her and him, how Rhys was too much unchecked power, and how Nesta would be much happier elsewhere.

Azriel's heart went out to the male, knowing how he was treated at home and the abuse he had endured from his father, but that didn't mean he never wanted to clock his teeth in.

Despite the fact that Azriel was coated in sweat and mud, exhausted beyond belief, his inertia that was fueled by adrenaline was slowly fading, and that he desperate to be horizontal, when Eris suggested stopping at an Inn until morning, Azriel would not budge.

"I'm going home," he responded, "with or without you, I'm going home."

Eris was smart enough to keep his mouth shut for the rest of the journey.

After days that felt like weeks, Azriel was at your doorstep - sore, tired, but so fucking happy he could barely contain himself. He knocked, a pattern of one-two-one, but the door nearly flew off its hinges before his second beat. He was met with only a flash of your face through his hazed, swollen eyes, before you wrapped yourself around him, colliding with him in an embrace unique to lovers. One of complete surrender and relief, and he met you head on, holding you so tight to him he raised you off the ground and could feel your ribs squeezing against him so harshly it was painful for the both of you.

Neither of you felt any pain, only relief, and true completeness.

He tucked his head in your neck, listening to your pulse and kissing that spot he loved so much, as you ran your hands through his hair.

"Azriel," you whispered against him, "Azriel."

He put you down and looked into your eyes. "What?"

You smiled, only mischief, play, and knowing written on your face. A look that said, "pay up."

He gladly obliged.

He didn't kiss you softly, or slowly, or reverently. He kissed you like he had been wanting to for days - hungrily. He was starving, aching for you in a way that he was unable to describe. It was down to his bones, the tether in his chest clamoring to connect with its other half.

He felt whole again, and he wanted the feeling forever.

His kisses slowed down as he pushed you into the house, shutting and locking the door behind him without leaving your lips. The two of you could not stop fucking smiling as you moved into the bedroom, and he sat himself down on the cushioned chair. You climbed onto his lap, kissing him with only love, only passion.

You slowly pulled away after a few more short kisses to frame his face with your hands, caressing his skin, looking into his eyes, reaffirming what you already knew.

The most beautiful male you had ever known was completely, utterly, entirely yours.

You could not deny, however, that his under-eyes were a dark shade of violet, as well as the area around them puffy and red.

He was tired.

"Come on," you whispered, climbing off of him. "Stand up."

You pulled him to his feet, his stance unsteady and weak, and began to pull his leathers off, piece by piece. You set them back onto the chair behind you delicately, but quickly, as the male standing before was practically sleeping standing up.

He couldn't help it. His chest was warm. His heart was full. His love was back in his arms.

After removing every inch down to his tunic and boots, he pulled you back up to his mouth, and you kissed him softly. Your fingertips lined his jaw while his gripped your waist.

You kissed him once, twice, three times before pulling away. "You need to sleep."

He blinked, then blinked again. Like he was trying to wake up from a dream. "You're right."

You chuckled and led him to bed, helping him to lay down. You then stripped yourself of all your clothing and tucked yourself in beside him. His eyes were already closed, his breaths were already evening, but with one last burst of energy, he pulled you into his chest, laying you on top of him the same way he did on your final morning together. He kissed you one last time, and you could have sworn he was asleep already when he mumbled against your mouth.

"Told you I'd come home."

You smiled against his neck, listening to the sounds of him in sleep and whispered, "I missed you."

For once, the two of you had all the time in the world.

Tag list: (if you would like to be added please let me know!)

@leahkenobi @notquitehero @lovelyladymayyy@seraphqueen @em---r @azaideen @katiebellf @llovelydove @tinasbookishlife @xxpeachyxo @evlyncelia @icarusave @forever-paramore28 @peachyxlynch @feyretopiapia @wingedmiken @moonslattes @hollyismentallyillhelp @esposadomd @redhighlady @bsenpai-blog @buttercake2234 @perssepeony @whor-3-crux @avengerswhre @mystic-sculptorture @wolfyland7 @are-y0u-serious-blog @hilism @tooobsessedsstuff @simplysensual @hernameispa @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @i-am-fascinated @seraphimluxe @just-living5 @saphiraprince22 @azsazz @thatonespriteobsessedbitch @moisyinfluencerstrawberry @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @azsazz

#azriel x oc #huge azz #azriel smut #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel angst #azriel #gwyn acotar #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf fanfiction #crescent city fanfic #tog imagine #cassian fanfic #rhysand #feyre archeron

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muppet-facts · 5 months

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Muppet Fact #916

One of the first appearances of the Muppet Babies was on a line of children's pajamas released in 1983 called Muppet Togs by Andover Togs. The designs were of a Baby Kermit, who was a tadpole, and a Baby Miss Piggy. In the same year, a pajama and turn around line by Lullaby Land also featured early Muppet Baby designs, with Baby Kermit, Baby Miss Piggy, and Baby Fozzie.

Sources:

Muppet Togs. Andover Togs. 1983.

Muppet Pajamas and Turn Arounds. Lullaby Land. 1983.

#muppet facts oc #jim henson #the muppets #muppets #muppet facts #fun facts #muppet babies #Lullaby Land #Andover Togs

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 month

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Hiii! I really love your work and I saw that your requests are open. So I was wondering if you could do something for Rowan? Maybe a fluff one <3

Trouble

Rowan had been clenching his jaw the moment he was dragged out of bed to go to that stupid meeting early in the morning. Peeling away from your warm body had been torture. He had stood in the doorway for a solid five minutes just looking at your sleeping form. Thinking about how he could escape the order. Until Gavriel had practically dragged him out.

“You’ll be back soon, don’t frown so hard, might get permanent lines on your face”, Gavriel teased from beside him, making Rowan scowl even harder. “She’s safe back there. The rest of us are looking over her”, he reassured Rowan. “It’s not that”, the male argued, “I wish I didn’t have to leave her at all. “How is she still alive with you smothering her like that”, Gavriel chuckled but resulted to only smirking once Rowan flashed his teeth at him.

His mood shifted instantly when the familiar cottage came into view. Tightness in his shoulders slipped like the rain off his feathers. A slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Nothing beat the feeling of coming home to you. The laughter caught up with the two soldiers at the bottom of the litter valley dip. Even Gavriel visibly relaxed at the sound of it.

“Get your paws off the table”, you huffed batting the white wolf away from the freshly baked goods. “Connall, I see you”, you warned the second twin with a warning finger. Golden eyes rolling back even in the shifter's form. “I saw that”, you warned them both but they simply nudged you with their snouts before lying down by the fire. The two often lounged in the furry coats. Gavriel said it most definitely was a self-comforting thing.

“I leave for a day and the kids are already misbehaving”, Rowan teased making you turn to him in a gasp. A loud squeal followed right suit as you rushed towards him, jumping into his arms. “You’re home way earlier”, you beamed cupping his face, before pulling away to look him all over. “Not a single scratch, don’t worry”, Rowan reassured you pulling you back into his embrace. You tilted your head to look past his shoulder at Gavreil who simply smiled, “All good here as well, darling”, the worrier nodded your way before stepping deeper into the house.

“Spirits above, I’ve missed you”, your lover breathed out, brushing his lips over your cheek. “Look at you being all clingy”, you teased him playfully before kissing him softly. “Don’t you even dare find a single excuse to not be with me”, Rowan breathed against your lips making you giggle. “So even in the bathroom…”, you started but he cut you off with a sharp nod, “Even in the bathroom”.

You were about to tease him some more when a loud clank of a tray hitting the floor echoed through the room. Rowan instantly pulled you behind him, his protective instincts not missing the beat. But from a low whine, you already knew what that was about. “You two are in deep shit”, you frowned, barely catching the sight of the white and black fur flashing out the back door.

“It looks like I don’t feed them”, you shook your head with a laugh. “You do but you’re also the only female and the only one who cooks godly stuff”, Rowan bent down to pick up the tray before resting his hands on your hips, “I don’t blame them”. You hummed, “But I blame you cause you distracted me and now look”, you crossed your arms over your cheeks. “How am I in trouble”, he whined softly making you let out yet another chuckle. “Don’t even start”, you raised your palm at him playfully but Rowan only used that as a way to pull you closer as his fingers started ticking your side. The house once again beating with laughter.

#rowan whitethorn #rowan whitethorn imagine #rowan whitethorn x reader #rowan whitethorn x oc #rowan whitethorn tog #tog imagine #tog x reader #tog x you #throne of glass x you #throne of glass imsgine #throne of glass x reader

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animekissingblog · 4 months

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Working on a Tower of God self insert :3, So far shes gonna be an irregular who kisses Urek Mazino and she live streams all her fights.

#tower of god original character #wip #tog oc #personal #my art

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pascalmode · 2 years

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In The Stars (1 - The Fall)

My first az fic! Also posted on my ao3 (fortheloveofstark) I know nothing about formatting on here or on ao3, so if you have tips or tricks, please message me!

AZ + TOG OC (this is a work of fanfiction)

Age: 18+

Warnings: Cannon level violence, sad shit, mentions of torture, Cairn and Maeve, a whip.

The dagger in her chest had missed her heart.

And yet, she can feel the curve of the blade with each of her laborious inhales, the crimson of her blood dribbling down the front of her and filling her mouth with the taste of copper.

Asteria looks around in her bloody haze, her brothers collapsed in the sand around her, fighting the oath that runs deep in their blood, the very oath that had taken her two hundred years and nearly all of her magic to shatter.

The ironteeth witch is too far out of reach, near her, a weeping would-be-lady of a far away land is held in the steel-like grip of the male she once loved. The male she wished for so long to return her feelings.

Directly across from her, the heir of the land, the heir of fire, is on her knees; reflecting Asteria’s own posture, held up by two males, having just been lashed by the whip of Asteria’s own centuries-long tormentor.

As the Fae Queen glowers down at her, the same Queen the female had pledged herself to when she was too young to know better.

Asteria lets a weak growl past her lips as the raven haired terror crouches down, her hand raising to stroke down the blood soaked female’s silver hair.

Asteria had thought she could help, that she could fight and make a difference in this war. That she would be the one driving the blade into the Queen’s heart.

She’d been wrong.

“You have been so strong for such a long time, Anaira,” Maeve whispers, her nail scraping along Asteria’s jaw. It isn’t the touch, but rather the false name that makes angry goosebumps rise along every scarred part of her. The blood leaching out of her has made her weak, weak enough that she can’t salvage the energy to bat away her hand, “Your magic is like nothing else. Through the Realm, you can do anything. And I have watched you, for more than three hundred years, waste that magic. That potential.”

Asteria opens her mouth, wanting to yell, and to scream to the queen. Tell her that she’ll never win. That the lashed would-be-queen would be her downfall. But she can barely manage more than a shaky breath and droopy eyes.

Her brothers are snarling where they lay, trying to get to her. But they can’t. They’re still bound by blood.

“You are going to do one more thing for me,” Maeve sneers, “Open the door between worlds. Right behind you.”

“Maeve!” The blonde heir shouts from behind, “Leave her alone, she has no part in this!”

The Fae Queen doesn’t spare a glance towards her, muttering, “Cairn.”

The sound of the whip cracking through the air shudders through Asteria, and the shriek that follows rumbles through her bones.

“You should be grateful, all of you should be,” Maeve announces, her voice moving beyond Asteria, to the entire beach, “I’m doing you all a favor. The most powerful full-blooded female on her knees, drawing her last breathes. Soon to be cast out from her own realm and doomed to fall forever, long past her own death,” Maeve’s hand comes to grip the handle of the dagger that she had plunged into Asteria’s chest, “Open the portal.”

The injured female shakes her head, weakly managing, “I don’t serve you.”

“If you want your brothers to survive the day, you will,” Maeve sneers, twisting the blade.

With the jerking motion, Asteria screams, her magic surging out of her and into the realm beneath her. Maeve could hurt her all she wants, having done so for centuries, but Asteria will be damned if her brothers meet that same pain. That same torture. The ground quakes with the force of Asteria’s dying magic, light rising from the sand as though the stars had embedded themselves in the grains.

With a noise loud enough to shatter the sky itself, the galaxy rips open behind Asteria. The winds rise, whipping around violently, as if it could protest the very thing that is happening.

Asteria is dying, and there is nothing that the Realm can do to save her.

The door between worlds hadn’t been opened; Her desperate magic had shattered it.

Maeve’s motion is quick and ruthless, ripping the dagger from Asteria’s chest, earning a pained grunt from the green-eyed female. Maeve’s long fingers grab onto Asteria’s chin, making her look directly into her own, endlessly dark eyes, “Very good, my Anaira. Do you remember why I named you this?”

Asteria says nothing, the space between them filled with her own shaking breathes as Maeve continues, “It means despair. A constant reminder of what you are, and what you bring to others. Pain, fear, suffering. They have all been yours to wield, Anaira.”

Asteria hates that she feels helpless tears roll down her cheeks. She hates that Maeve had won.

She’d succeeded in the one thing she set out to do; she had broken Asteria beyond recognition. Turned her into a picture of despair, as she had been named two hundred years ago and thought that she’d escaped.

“Any last words, Realm Reader?” Maeve asks, releasing the female with a smirk. Taunting. Dangerous.

She looks upon those surrounding her again, the warriors who would have made up a court that she’d have honored to be a part of; to fight alongside. Gavriel. Fenrys. Elide. Lorcan. Manon. The ones still at battle in the sea beyond the sands; Rowan. Lysandra. Aedion. Countless others. And Aelin. Asteria had done it all for Aelin; because she believed in her; Believed that she could be good when no one else did.

And now she’s dying because of it.

Aelin Galathynius meets her gaze, naked chest rising and falling from the pain in her back.

“Make her pay,” Asteria says over the roaring winds, looking at no one but Aelin, her voice strained with effort and nearly muddled by the blood pooling in her mouth, “And do right by this Realm. By me. Keep your promise, Aelin, even though I can’t see it to it’s end.”

The fire-bringer’s eyes are lined with silver, and a sob rips through her, “A better world.”

“A better world,” Asteria repeats, every ounce of faith put into that idea. The one she’d believed in so deeply when she’d showed up in Adarlan, to Aelin’s warehouse apartment, before magic had been freed.

A better world. One she’ll never see.

Maeve grabs her chin again, “After all of our time together, do you have nothing to say to me?”

Asteria’s green eyes bore into Maeve’s, the female who had taken everything from her. Who had renamed her at the first sign of her centuries long defiance. Her tormenter who had called her despair and brought nothing but that.

But she is not despair. She is not Anaira. She is Asteria Relridaar, and like the Heir of Terrasen she loyally follows, she would not be afraid.

So, Asteria opens her mouth, and spits on the Fae Queen, blood staining the porcelain skin of her oppressor. One last act of defiance.

“What’s my name?” Asteria growls, a smirk growing on her crimson lips. Taunting. Dangerous.

She wants Maeve to say it. To know that just because the most powerful female of the realm will be gone, she will be remembered. She had shattered the blood oath and taken her own name back by her sheer will. Something that had never been done before.

Maeve doesn’t wipe at her face, her dark eyes flicking from Asteria to the portal that she’d ripped open. Something Maeve could never do on her own even if she tried.

The Fae Queen smiles wickedly saying, “It doesn’t matter.”

With a single push, Asteria is shoved through the door between worlds.

And she falls.

#azriel x oc #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #shadowsinger #acotar #acotar oc #tog oc #tog #azriel x reader #a court of thornes and roses #inner circle #inner circle x oc #oc #acotar fanfiction #azriel fanfic

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