#wing patterns turned out great

[slavonicrhapsody]

WHO IS THIS SAULTRY LITTLE BINCH

ok this is my extremely unpolished breakdown of MESSMER THE IMPALER from the shadow of the erdtree trailer

The first thing that stands out about this dude is that he’s wearing EVERY possible symbol of treason against the Erdtree: SNAKES and FLAME

Messmer has snakes on his sigil, helm, and 2 snake friends who have dragon wings. Volcano Manor is known for its statues of winged serpents, but the wings are feathered, not dragonlike. these snakes are bright red-orange and are very unlike the Great Serpent we all know and love, who has a heavier build and is blue-grey in color. 

Regarding snakes as symbolism, the Duelist Helm description reads,

“Bronze helm decorated with innumerable snakes. Worn by gladiators who were driven from the colosseum. The wearer becomes a slightly easier target for foes. The snake is viewed as a traitor to the Erdtree, and the audience delighted in seeing these bronze effigies beaten and battered.”

We can bet that whoever is associating themselves with snakes is a confirmed Erdtree hater (Rykard, hello!!!) or perhaps, this dude could even be part of the reason why snakes are considered traitorous in the first place?

In addition to us seeing Messmer wield fire, this line from the trailer (which I think is spoken about Messmer but not by Messmer) implies that he’s known for his fire: “Those stripped of the Grace of Gold shall all meet death. In the embrace of Messmer’s flame.” 

It’s well known that flame is in many ways a taboo power; particularly the flame of the Fell God, which has the power to burn the Erdtree (the cardinal sin). Messmer’s fire is weird, in some ways it reminds me of the Rune of Death since it starts out black and turns red, but it’s also far too orange to simply be the Rune of Death’s power. 

There’s also this description of the DLC: “The Land of Shadow. A place obscured by the Erdtree. Where the goddess Marika first set foot. A land purged in an unsung battle. Set ablaze by Messmer’s flame.”

I’d guess that the Land of Shadow was the place of Marika’s first conquest, and perhaps Messmer either aided her in razing it or that’s just something he did later? 

so WHO is this dude????

for starters, his name is Messmer the Impaler — M like Marika! Melina, Malenia, Miquella, Mogh, and Morgott. seems to be a pattern...

He says in the trailer, “Mother, wouldst thou truly Lordship sanction, in one so bereft of light?” 

Whoever Messmer’s mother is, she is in a position to “sanction lordship” meaning to give official permission for a lordship to take place. that screams Marika — she is THE goddess, and is responsible for guiding Tarnished to becoming Elden Lord. I can’t think of anyone else who might be called Mother who is in such a position as to allow someone to ascend to the position of Lord. He's also sitting in the same type of throne that the demigods sat in that we see in Morgott's cutscene.

theres 2 ways to interpret this line: 

Messmer could referring to himself when he says this; as if he’s saying, would my mother truly allow me to become Lord even though I’m so dark and edgy?? in a kind of sarcastic way. the flames he produces start out black, and he’s covered himself symbols treasonous to the Erdtree. OR, he’s referring to us, the Tarnished, when he says this; as if he’s saying, would you really let a person with such little light inside them become lord, mother?? (rude!) I’d say we need more context to determine exactly what he means

ALSO, interestingly, his left eye is sealed shut… you know who else has their left eye sealed shut? THAT’S RIGHT… OUR FRIENDS MELINA AND RANNI

The scarseal and soreseal items of Marika and Radagon are also carved into eyeballs… could eye trauma be an empyrean trait?? could Messmer also be an empyrean, one who the current demigods didn’t know the existence of??? 

with all that being said, I really doubt that this guy is Rykard or Rykard’s child as I’ve seen some people speculate… these other clues in the trailer point towards him being another, separate demigod. so what do we make of all the similar imagery?? I think that Messmer might be working against the Erdtree toward his own ends, and he’s embracing similar powers that Rykard did when he turned traitor. 

who is he then? I think he’s a demigod child of Marika, and possibly of Radagon because of the hair (unless his hair color comes elsewhere? a curse?). I think he got banished to the shadow realm for treason reasons, given the heretical symbols. perhaps he was an empyrean with his own agenda who was disposed of by Marika, like the Gloam Eyed Queen? perhaps he has ambitions to return to the real world and become Lord, destroying the Tarnished who might take his throne?

I did this instead of sleeping I hope you’re all happy

#elden ring #elden ring dlc #shadow of the erdtree #messmer the impaler #messmer #elden ring lore #ok now ive got that out of my system i can go about my day

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - blood, mentions of death, slight kidnapping, and spoilers for dungeon meshi.

You could remember Laios once mentioning that dragons mate for life.

It would've been impossible to remember why he brought it up, whether you'd been foolish enough to ask him or if he'd offered the unwanted information in a more general conversation on monster behavior, but the fact stuck. Dragons, like most birds and reptiles, mated for life, and were unlikely to take another partner if their first died. You remembered thinking that it made sense, at the time. Like most monsters in the dungeon, dragons relied on a cycle of reincarnation and didn't age, meaning there was no environmental pressure to reproduce. And, even if it was only on some base, animalistic level, the reincarnation cycle meant that dragons knew their fallen mates would eventually return, even if they would have to wait a few months, a few years, a few decades. If you'd been a kinder person, you might've went so far as to call it romantic.

Dragons mate for life. You guessed that went for Falin too, now - or, the vicious creature that was wearing her face, at least.

You could only be thankful that you didn't have very long left to live.

You could feel it coming. Falin had managed to get you away from the battlefield, but you'd been injured in the fight - whether by her claws or an ally's sword, you couldn't be sure. Blood was rushing out of the deep gash stretching across your chest without reservation, soaking into the leather of your armor and pooling on the stone floor beneath you. You couldn't remember how you got hurt, and you couldn't remember how you'd gotten here, either - to a bell tower tall enough to overlook most of the abandoned city, decorated only with a few colorless feathers and bones you could only hope belonged to yet another wretched creature. Your vision was fogged and dim, your arms too heavy to raise and your legs too numb to move, but you were almost thankful for the paralysis - it kept the worst of the pain at bay. You were thankful to die, too, even if you knew you shouldn't be. There'd be no one to resurrect you, no one to drag your lifeless body back to the surface, but you didn't mind. If you died here, it would mean that you'd never have to find out just how many lives were ended because of a monster with Falin's face, her hands, her magic. If you died here, you'd never have to see the creature she'd become again.

You tried to close your eyes, to let go of the last of your strength before it could be taken from you forcibly, but the sound of talons scraping against stone brought what was left of your conscious back to the surface. With no small amount of effort, you managed to turn your head to the bell tower's largest window - or, more accurately, to Falin, perched on the stone ledge, taking care to tuck her wings against her side in a way that was not totally unsimilar to how she used to take precious seconds to comb her finds through the knots in your hair. Her wounds were still fresh, many of her ivory feather still soaked with red, and she was already looking at you, already smiling so gently that your heart might've beat a little faster, had it been able to beat at all. Despite yourself, you smiled back as you met her eyes. Your smile had never been quite as pretty as hers, of course, but she'd always liked it when you could pretend to believe it was.

Your kept your eyes locked with hers as she approached, the movements of her great body slow, only somewhat labored. The floor of the bell tower shook as she lowered herself to your height, her hand coming down to cup your cheek. You couldn't stop yourself. You leaned into her palm, into her warmth, letting out a rattling exhale as her thumb traced idle patterns into your skin. Maybe she would be kind enough to put you out of your misery a few seconds early, but even if she didn't, you wouldn't mind. So long as you could die in Falin's arms, you'd be happy.

Her lips didn't move. She didn't move. She said nothing, did nothing, and yet, with little more warning than a dull, green glow in the corner of your vision as warning, you felt warmth flood out of her skin and into yours. There was a single bolt of pure, unforgiving agony around the edges of your injury and then, nothing.

For a second, you let yourself believe that you were dead. Falin killed you, and you were dead. You had to be dead.

Your gaze shot back to Falin. Her smile didn't waver, but her hand fell away from your cheek and found your own. Tenderly, she brought to her chest and with her free hand, slid something onto your finger. It took you a moment to recognize the cold burn of chilled metal, the way the ring glinted gold when it caught the light. It was her ring - the ring you'd given her after Marcille's resurrection, the ring you'd fumbled into her palm as you asked her to marry you, then apologized for not having a matching pair.

And then, something hot and thick caught in your throat and you lurched forward, coughing into your hands. By the time you pulled away, your palms were fleshed with bloody tissue and the gash across your chest was gone, replaced with a blank expanse of exposed, in-tact skin. She'd healed you.

She refused to let you die.

She cupped your hand, when she was done, her eyes darting up to meet yours. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse, low, a poor imitation of something wonderful. If you hadn't been so terrified, you might've called it beautiful.

"My love."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi imagines #dungeon meshi x reader #yandere falin #falin x reader #falin touden x reader #yandere falin touden

[n3ptoonz]

I have a pre-relationship request that’s more on the cute side. Can you please write Bi Han, Kenshi, Johnny, Liu Kang, Raiden and Kung Lao reacting to the reader (who is a new kombatant) who has been feeling weary from the training and falling asleep on the men’s shoulder? It can be under different scenarios, whatever you think works the best :)

this is so cute!! i'll be happy to write this😁

no warnings, pure FLUFF <3

Sub-Zero

Being a new kombatant came with a lot of responsibilities. However, for lack of better word, it felt like more of a responsibility being around Bi-Han than any other. He knew not to work you as hard as his recruits, so with the kindness left in his heart he offered to help and train with you. He was quite impressed with your quick learning and determination too. So one day after a long session--this was his way of saying he thought you were good enough to train with him that long--you sat together to cool off in a comfortable silence. After a while he began to ramble on about duties and such when he turned to feel the weight of your head on his shoulder. He was honestly going to wake you up, but then felt you deserved the rest. Anybody who passed by him earned a mean glare if they even tried speaking to him and possibly waking you up, but shh! You didn't hear that from me!

Kenshi Takahashi

After being assigned to work with Kenshi, it's natural that you were nervous. You heard many stories about the blind swordsman, and now you were actually in his presence. Sensing your hesitance to really give your all out of nervousness, he always made sure to let you know you can give everything you got, so gradually over time you two became comfortable during and after training sessions. You've learned a lot from him: from stances, to breathing patterns, to how to efficiently piss Johnny off if he bothered you with his droning on about being in Hollywood, it was no question that you two connected on another level. After a particularly challenging session, he paid no mind to you falling asleep on his shoulder. You earned it. He'd carry on with his own conversations while making sure he didn't budge. It could also be something he brags about to Johnny, cause why the hell not?

Johnny Cage

When you were first introduced to the fighting scene by Liu Kang, you expected to meet all types of esteemed warriors and established individuals that wore their honor on their sleeves. When it came to Johnny, it was weirdly charming. He was the first to offer to train with you because you looked strong. He'd play around with the whole "I'll go easy on you" speech until you showed him what you're capable of. Now, he took you seriously. The Johnny Cage that came to light when he wanted to prove a point was always present when you showed up, but you admired it nonetheless. You liked that he didn't view you as some weakling that could be talked down on. So post intense sparring match with you out like a light once your head laid upon his shoulder, he just quietly laughed it off and patted your head. "You're lucky we tied." he whispered.

Liu Kang

Of course, anybody's heart would be thumping in the presence of a God. The God of Fire himself kindly offered to take you under his wing, seeing great potential in you and your future. Liu Kang took this role very seriously, so while he explained you were hand picked, you immediately snapped into a warrior's mindset. Being a new kombatant was the highest honor in your eyes, especially while being backed by a literal God. Though he will have no issue reminding you to just view him as another friend--glowing eyes and all power aside. Being your Lord eventually felt no different than simply speaking to a superior you could say what's up to. He admired your love for training and being quick on your toes, so no wonder you fell asleep on him. Working with a God is no joke!

Raiden

Getting to train with the champion of Earthrealm was surreal to you. Although when you met Raiden, you didn't think he'd be so sweet and chill. Most of all humble. Letting him know you were new here made him so happy, especially now since he didn't have to deal with Kung Lao's blabbering about if he was champion. It didn't take long to start training longer and harder, but sometimes it may have been a little difficult to keep up. He is the champion for a reason! There'd be a plethora of opportunities to learn from each other and understand each other better through fighting. It was a breath of fresh air to learn you both viewed kombat as a means of expression and art. Falling asleep on his shoulder after a long day made his own tiredness disappear. He was honored that you felt so comfortable and relaxed around him--this much was clear when someone walked past him grinning ear to ear.

Kung Lao

A new kombatant for him to train with?! Let's go! Kung Lao was a man that needed no introduction. Once he eyes laid upon you, he could sense your strength from across the room. He wore his pride on his sleeve, but it honestly didn't bother you much. He was the same man who came this close to being champion of Earthrealm and had his own set of great skill. He loved training with you. You were able to keep up with him in a short amount of time and even develop your own flair being around him so long. In a way he kind of felt like your mentor. The evening that you trained so hard and sparred so well and eventually fell asleep on his shoulder, he expected as much. As a matter of fact, he would joke about it all this time after every session, half of him thinking it probably wouldn't happen. But regardless he found it adorable and wore this moment like a badge of honor.

a/n: lowkey i have no clue if i've reused the same sentiments for some of these characters but hey im used to writing in the format so yall gonna have to deal with it 😤 hope this was what you had in mind!

#n3ptoonz #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat #kung lao #bi han #johnny cage #raiden mk1 #kenshi takahashi #mk fluff #mk1 kung lao #kung lao x reader #mk1 bi han #bi han x reader #johnny cage x reader #raiden x reader #kenshi takashi x reader #liu kang mk1 #liu kang x reader #bi han sub zero

[sunkissed-zegras]

hi my love! can i request a little something of paige comforting her gf through a hard time? i’ve had a rlly tough semester and my car just died so im rlly going through it rn 🥲🥲🩷🩷 i love u and ur writing sm <3333

𝐏𝐈𝐙𝐙𝐀 & 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ─ PB⁵

─ word count | 412

─ warnings | literally nothing but fluff!!!!!!!!

─ ev's notes | hey my love!!! im so so so sorry that your semester has not been the best but i hope summer treats you so much better, and i hope you enjoy!!! i love u sm more, mwha mwah mwah. also this is really short, kinda like a comfort fic type vibe but i hope u enjoy it nonetheless!!!!!!!!

PAIGE'S ARMS ENVELOPED you in a tight hug, feeling the stress of the last week melt into her.

You fought the urge to cry because you were so insanely grateful for your girlfriend. She had been gone for the week because of a series of away games, but now she was back, and her presence brought you comfort like nothing else could. You buried your face in her shoulder, inhaling her familiar perfume, letting the warmth of her embrace chase away the tension that had been building inside you.

Paige's arms tightened around you, her fingers gently tracing soothing patterns on your back. "I missed you so much," she murmured, her voice soft and filled with warmth.

"I missed you too," you admitted, your voice slightly muffled against her shirt. "It's been a rough week without you here."

She pulled back slightly, cupping your face in her hands and searching your eyes with her own. "I'm here now," she said firmly. "I'm sorry, baby. I know it's been hard but I'm here for you always."

You nodded, feeling a rush of relief wash over you at her words. "I know," you replied, your voice wavering slightly with emotion. "And having you back makes everything better."

Paige smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. "Well, I'm not going anywhere," she reassured you, her gaze unwavering. "We'll get through this together."

You leaned into her touch, feeling the weight of the world lift off your shoulders in her presence. "I love you," you whispered, the words spilling out effortlessly.

"I love you too," she replied, her voice filled with tenderness. "You hungry?"

"Not really, I just had-"

She furrowed her eyebrows as she met your gaze, observing your expression before she shook her head. "Nah, you're hungry. What do you wanna eat, baby?"

You couldn't help but chuckle at her persistence. "Okay, maybe I could eat a little something," you admitted, grateful for her caring nature.

"Let's see..." Paige thought for a moment. "How about we order in? Or I can make us some pasta, or we could go for pizza if you're feeling something more indulgent."

"Pizza sounds great," you replied, the corners of your mouth turning up into a smile. "And maybe some wings too?"

Paige grinned, her eyes lighting up at the suggestion. "Wings it is," she agreed, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your lips before pulling out her phone to place the order.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#uconn #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers fic

[hectateovrhere]

Soul, Body, and all

Pairing: Neteyam x male Metkayina reader, eldest son of Tonowari ( the chief)

Summary: you, the aloof eldest son to the chief, do ( your unexpected friend) Neteyam’s ceremonial paint and things get intimate.

A/N: idk how to write summarys but hopeful the story makes up for it this is more first time posting so hope y’all enjoy :) also I added “lore” just to make it more meaningful. Idk-

There was a comfortable silence that hung over you two. Neteyam sat infront of you his eyes catching every detail of your face. You didn’t know what to say and neither did he. An unspoken bond between you two. You were evasive and slippery you were loved but no one really knew you. The chiefs son was what you were and a great warrior; that’s all the reason your tribe needed to love you. You were adamant on keeping everyone at arms length; you weren’t interested in relationships, even with your siblings. No connections meant no feelings getting in the way of what you believed in. no one could have gotten this close to you but somehow he did.

You traced the structure of his face with white paint sharp and delicate at the same time; he stared as you focused. You place your hand on his shoulder as you got closer you grabbed the yellow paint and outlined his eyes with dots.

“What is the ceremony for?” Neteyam broke the silence

“It’s very spiritual… it allows you to be placed under eywas protection and our protection.” You fingers glided down his neck Neteyam gulped at your touch. “The paint is very important each style is different- they have a unique meaning each of us learn a different technique.”

“What does mine mean?” You pause for a moment coating your hand in pale green paint.

“Kind-hearted. A protector and protected.” You place your hand on his chest you feel his heart beating. “A special soul.” Your painted hand print was left on his chest Neteyam refused to utter a word as if they were jammed in his throat. The wind rushed past you with a whistle and the waves crashed to the shore in a musical pattern.

“Turn around.” You ordered softly now it was your turn to break the silence. He obeyed silently his strong back faced you. Coating your hands once again you place them on his shoulders pushing inward to his shoulder blades replicating that of wings. Your hands halted at his braid.

“Can I?

Neteyam nodded slowly you moved it to the side he shivered as you dotted the outline of his spine.

“The back represents freedom and your choice to look after those around you. A leader. People will follow you anywhere.”

“Will you?” The words slipped through Neteyam’s lips. He cringed at the way it came out like his body reacted on its own ignoring the brain and following his heart. It yearned for you. He failed to figure out how to express it to you and the looming possibility that you didn’t feel the same way terrified him. He couldn’t bare the thought of you slipping through his fingers.

Neteyam’s ears twitched at the way your hands paused. He prepared for the worst. What could you possibly think of an outcast?

“You want me to follow you forever?” You reiterated with a light chuckle; Neteyam flushed he knew it came out wrong. Of course he knew you had your duties you were the chiefs son; you made a promise to your people. He knew all about that; it was him once upon a time. It sounded like he wanted you to run away with him to drop everything and leave.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Neteyam whipped around catching you by surprise you took notice to the distance between you. The short distance you watch his pleading eyes you could tell he was struggling to find the right words to say.

“I want you by my side and I want to stay by yours.” He explained “you’re the only person that makes me feel okay with never going back home. I want to stay with you.”

“What are you saying?”

In that moment time stopped all you could feel were his soft lips on yours. you weren’t sure what to do you’ve never kissed anyone before- you’ve never been this close to someone before. Neteyam was struggling as well both of you unsure about what to do and how to continue but doing it anyway; eventually you got the hang of it syncing with his movements. You could feel his energy enter you, careful not to touch him with your painted hands you attempted to deepen the kiss you wanted to be closer.

Neteyam understood what you wanted and did it for you basically grabbing your head and pulling you towards him. An unfamiliar feeling erupted in your stomach is this what it felt like? To be kissed? You never thought you would experience it. You seen your parents kiss and other people your age do it;but it never interested you. Now you could see why everyone liked to do it; it was nice you felt connected to him like you could feel what he felt, his senses were yours and the world seemed to melt away.

When you both pulled away everything felt cold by the way Neteyam was looking at you he felt the same way.

“Do you understand what I mean now?” He questioned his voice was gentle. you placed your forehead on his; your eyesight being filled with his deep yellow eyes only. You saw him for who he was and all he could be; you saw his heart and mind, his internal battles and his responsibilities. You unraveled before him he saw you, he knew you and you felt free knowing someone finally understood you.

“Neteyam..” you trailed “I see you.”

His eyes widened at your confession “I see you too.”

Your lips met again you held each other delicately disregarding the paint on your hands. this time there was less of a struggle both of you had somewhat of an idea on how to do it; all that mattered was the way it made both of you feel. He caressed every inch of your skin like he had been waiting an eternity to do so. Every inch he followed as if to memorize your body; your skin burned where ever Neteyams wandering fingertips grazed; every touch felt like fire and you savoured every second of it.

Neteyam embraced your warmth accepting it into his body, he could feel your soul. He silently thanked Eywa for guiding him to you this was her plan all along.

He was the only one for you. There was no one else. He was worth losing everything over and you would die before you gave your heart to another. Though you were young; in your heart you knew Neteyam was yours. Soul, body, and all.

#avatar #avatar the way of water #neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x male reader #avatar x you #avatar x male reader #avatar x reader #neteyam sully #lo’ak sully #jake sully #metkayina #metkayina reader #avatar 2 #neteyam x you

[implalazz]

Asked for some yokai fusions on reddit, this is the first batch

L-R: Frostysol, Nonoko, Venyan, Lord Lie-in, Slimatina, Whisbuzz

Some thoughts on these designs under the cut

Yayyyyyy thoughts on these because I like talking, esp about my creative process

Frostysol: I WILL SAY RIGHT NOW I KNOW I FUCKED UP THE KOSODE MASSIVELY, IT DOESN’T HAVE SLEEVES & IT’S TOO BIG….. I literally only had two ideas for this desgin, one was inspired by the yuki onna segment's backgrounds from Kwaidan & the other was inspired by the spirits from Kuro Neko. The eyes in the backgrounds of yuki onna were so striking & I had just watched the movie recently so it was still fresh in my mind. I knew I wanted her to be closer to a real yuki onna rather than just a cute snow girl spirit. And in that regard Kuro Neko helped with that. I guess subconsciously I wanted her to give off vibes of an unsuspecting girl who kills you & turns out to be a yokai. I thought a kosode would make more sense historically than a random cape, but also idk if young girls wore kosode like that or if it was just adult women. Had no ideas how to incorporate pallysol so I just used him for little details. He's more prevalent in the design intentionally than physically

Nonoko: Pretty simple what do I say. Uh I thought I could do a clover for the tail rather than a heart like Bloominoko. Wanted to make him even fatter than he is cuz he's Noko x2, also made his spots clover shaped cuz what's more lucky than a four leafed clover? An eight leafed clover! Or two four leafed clovers..... Also gave him double teeth & some little wing shaped clovers on his head kinda like Dudunsparce. This one didn't have a lot of thought go into it, I just kinda did what felt natural

Venyan: The first thing I thought about was what colour to make the fur & what colour to make the hair. I decided on red hair cuz it would pop more with dark blue fur. Also made his face pattern a part of his hair cuz he doesn’t have enough room on his face for it with Venocts bangs. I wanted him to be kind of a shitty little bastard, a real cat kinda cat. A good mix of their personalities y’know. Didn’t have much going on with this design either other than I didn’t want the scarf to be all bulky with the dragons cuz Jibanyan is very squart, so I moved them to the tails. Also just because that looks cooler. Had a hell of a time drawing them, I have experience drawing dragons but I’ve always been bad at drawing them roaring or snarling, they look okay but not great.

Lord Lie-in: Also had a bit of trouble combining these two, makes sense cuz I put this one off for more than a few weeks. Didn’t wanna give him big spiky saiyan hair so he got some stray hairs in the front. Took his face framing bangs & tied them up cuz I always like that look (They’re two different pieces tied individually then tied together, so there’s two mini ponytails instead of one. Also had to deliberate on the hair colours cuz I knew I wanted him to have white fur. One of my favourites was red hair with light blue ends but I didn’t go with that one cuz his outfit is mostly red. I also DID NOT feel like giving him a whole kimono (mostly for silhouette reasons) so I just gave him Miku-like sleeves. I originally wanted to give him split leg hakama but when looking at reference I remembered “Oh yeah these things have a lot of pleats & the crotch is pretty low so that’s not great for the silhouette I have in mind.” I gave him harem-esque pants & if you look closely at the upper thigh you can see a little slit in the side of them. Underneath his waist plate & top, the pants tie together like hakama do so I guess I got the hakama in a little bit. I didn’t have any room for his arm warmers so I made them into gloves & gave him the kind of socks that I don’t know what they’re called (Catra has them & I think they’re cool). Also gave him tengu cuz they look cooler than whatever Lie-in Heart has going on. Also cuz it makes him more like “Woah what a bold guy/character!!” And don’t ask how the sword fits in that sheath, idk magic or something he’s the king of the yokai he can do whatever he wants

Slimatina (or Frostymander): Again not much going on here it’s pretty simple. Gave the lower body muscles cuz I noticed the lower body of Slimamander kind of looked like a chest & also just cuz that makes it more creepy. I gave the main body/head some hair clips resembling the patterns on the bulbs of the other heads. Also made the openings in the head look more like a woman’s mouth cuz again, makes it creepy, but also I just thought it would fit more with the Frostina part. Also gave the main heads head eyelashes that look like the openings on the other heads. Decided to give her a cape this time cuz I’m not fuckin around with another kosode. I don’t know if it comes off in the piece but I wanted her cape to be flying up like she just summoned a harsh wind. Last thing is I gave her an eye ornament on her obi & a specially tied obijime cuz I saw one tied like that on google & I thought it looked cute

Whisbuzz: YET AGAIN SAY IT WITH ME! NOT! MUCH! GOING! ON!!!!!! Uhh gave him a frown cuz he’s depressed or whatever, made the top of his hood look like Whispers…… ahoge???? Made his wings wispy on the ends. That’s about it. Fun fact before I drew that one I had another one but I scrapped it because it looked too much like a sperm cell :]

#🔩.my art #I’m aware the kosode is deeply fucked forgot it was an actual garment & not just a cape #yokai watch #yokai oc #fusion #noko #jibanyan #venoct #frostina #pallysol #lord enma #lie-in heart #slimamander #whisper yokai watch #negatibuzz

[nomiqbomi]

Updated designs for Fophid and Lepignito commissioned by my friend @plus-sizedscribe! Plus a new middle form, Impodster, and 4 distinct formes that Lepignito can take, based on the environment it evolves in.

More info under the tab!

Fophid are timid creatures with many predators. Their carapace has evolved to blend in perfectly with an arboreal environment. When provoked, it wields the branch-like appendage on its abdomen like a lance. It has no venom, it's quite sharp!

Impodster attaches itself firmly to tree limbs, disguising itself as a small branch. Once it has done this, it is impossible to detach until it evolves. (It would be much easier to take the entire branch with it!) It does not budge, even after being discovered. Individuals who have camouflaged themselves poorly can often be found with leaves full of holes, made by bird Pokemon that attempted to carry them away.

When Impodster evolves into Lepignito, it takes on a perfect likeness of its immediate environment. Four unique patternings, based the biomes it occurs in naturally, have been officially recorded; however, it is believed that new patterns could be created by evolving the pokemon in a unique environment.

Even when their immediate environment does not match the markings on their wings, they somehow still manage to obscure themselves from view. Many theories have been pose as to how they are able to do this, but none have been proven, as this behavior is quite difficult to observe.

It prefers to sit motionlessly and evade detection, but when provoked, it uses its stealth to confound opponents and catch them unawares. Once the opponent has become disoriented, it flies off into the shadows, never to be seen again.

---

The line is based on the Peppered Moth, which are a famous example of natural selection that has actually been observed and recorded in real-time. The moth originally evolved to camouflage against lightly-colored trees, but a melanic mutation became more genetically favorable during the industrial revolution, when the trees became blackened with soot. After environmental standards were introduced, the white variant became common again. Today both variations can be found, and they are often mistaken for different species!

Plussized-Scribe helped conceptually with the variations/typing, with his own rom-hack in mind. I may add more variations for my own fan project.

I had originally designed Fophid to camouflage with the forest floor, but during my redesign I found out that the peppered caterpillar camouflages itself as a tree branch. I thought that was neat, to I went with that angle instead.

I also added a middle form to make it a better counterpart for the Pareyeva line who use the opposite form of self defense!

Edit: @plus-sizedscribe wrote some really great Pokedex entries for his hack that he allowed me to share here as well:

"Unlike Sewaddle, the leafy bits Fophid sport are not fashion statements, but specialized organs for camouflage. In autumn, their bodies release chemicals to redden the organs and match the foliage.

The base of the headcrest pulls double duty as a third mandible. Thus, Fophid can chew better while also maintaining camouflage, as the shaking of the crest resembles a leaf trembling in the breeze."

"Having secured themselves on a sturdy tree trunk, Impodster steadfastly await evolution. Very little can dislodge these Pokémon, which are nearly helpless if they happen to end up on the ground.

Impodster with poor camouflage are often found with leaves full of holes. These are made by naïve bird Pokémon attempting to carry them away, only to realize they picked almost the worst prey they could."

"Some people claim to have fallen for a person who always wore a long coat, only for their lover to turn out to be a Lepignito. The veracity of these bizarre anecdotes is suspect, to say the least.

Lepignito live in trees whose bark match their wing patterns. They boast different patterns to blend in with the available types of trees in the regions they inhabit. At least 25 different varieties are known."

#would people like it if i made more comprehensive posts like this of fakemon I've already finished and posted? #I think some consistency would be nice #Pokemon #fakemon #bug type #moth #caterpillar #cocoon #character design #monster design #artists on tumblr #photoshop #digital art #writing #insects #pokemon chartreuse #no offense but ash forme is kind of mothman

[hanakoofthejungle]

HuskerDust watercolor fanart based on the fanfiction, Casino of Love by @artwaterfall. The fanfiction, in turn, was inspired by the Overlord Husk AU created by @celestialalpacaron.

Drawing timelapse 

This scene comes from Chapter 15 where Husk and Angel went on their first date at Fizzmodeus' restaurant. They had lobsters. Angel did not know how to eat a lobster so Husk came to the rescue. Basically, they just abused the hell out of that poor dead creature. (It occurred to me: Where does the lobster's soul go? Does it end up in hell, watching its body being consumed?)

---

Angel tried again to pry the shell off still looking over to the side. “Am I doing it?”

Husk barked a laugh so loud the pianist looked up frowning.

“Ya gotta look at what ya doing.”

“Ugh,” Angel deflated and let the lobster rest on the plate, “ maybe I shouldn't have lobster.”

“Here,” Husk got up and walked behind his chair. He laid his hand over Angel's and resumed trying to pry the poor crustacean body.

Angel blushed at the proximity, Husk was practically whispering into his ear about the damn lobster but Angel had trouble focusing with the overlord's hand on his own.

Still Angel butchered the first half of his lobster and screamed in joy a little too loud at having half of it done. People downstairs looked up at them again, frowning.

Husk was still helping him with the second half, juices and lobster bits flying everywhere at Angel clumsiness but every time they joined stares at each other, he would find the cat laughing along with him.

---

Now why did I choose this scene to draw? Because it is fun, simple, wholesome couple interaction and very relatable. It reminds me of the time when I had lobster for the first time in Brussels, spending more time to crack open the lobster than actually enjoying the dish. Turns out lobster did not taste that great, but at the least the group of elderly American at the next table got a good laugh out of watching me and my friend absolutely butcher that lobster :)))

Having never watched Helluva Boss, I had to look up what the inside of that place looks like, but mistakes ensure due to that very wrong heart shape and lack of patterns on the wallpaper. I was lazy but hey at least I got that lamp thingy on the table right :))) As usual, the clothes are the focal point of my fanarts, "a beautiful deep blue, floor length dress, there was only one shoulder strap and a lace veil came from it all the way to the floor behind his shoulder" and "freshly pressed black suit with a deep blue tie that matched Angel's dress". Husk's suit in this drawing is not actually black but a mix of ultramarine and sepia. I usually don't use colors straight out of the pan, but mixing them. I made an exception in this with the lake red color of Husk's wing. I forgot to draw the wings before I did the line art, so I need the color at its strongest to cover the line art which was not supposed to be there.  

My tools still include pencil and Leningrad watercolor. I have been using that watercolor set for over 10 years and it is still the best watercolor set I have ever had. This time I use the Blue Uni-ball pen by Mitsubishi Pencil instead of black M&G gel pen. The line art looks much smoother and the waterproof blue ink added a nice touch to the drawing. I expect nothing less from one of the best pen manufacturers out there. 

#hazbin hotel #huskerdust #husker x angel dust #overlord husk #angel dust #hazbin angel dust #angel dust x husk #hazbin hotel husker #husk hazbin hotel #hazbin husk #angel dust hazbin hotel

[espion7971]

SeaWing tribe sheet!

seawings my beloved. i didnt do anything too crazy with them but they deserve to be a bit over-the-top. (also, lmk if anyone is interested in a size comparison chart and/or an evolutionary tree for the tribes because i might do those if people would like it)

Physical Appearance + Traits:

-SeaWings are almost entirely aquatic dragons. They can live and breathe out of water, but vastly prefer their ocean habitat, and too much time out of water can dry and dull their scales. 

-They have short legs with wide, webbed talons which they use to propel through the water. They also have long, thick and powerful tails. SeaWings cannot be called comparatively large or small due to these unique proportions.

-Not unlike MudWings, SeaWings can fly, but aren’t skilled at it. Their wings have adapted to be used essentially as large fins to steer accurately through the water, and are not as effective for flight. They sometimes can leap from the water and catch air like flying fish, but they struggle to get fully off the ground; their wings are better suited for passive gliding.

-The pale marks that cover their bodies can be used to create bioluminescent light, so efficiently that SeaWings can turn individual lights on and off at will, and even control the dimness. They use these marks in flashing patterns to communicate underwater, in a language called Aquatic. Phrases in Aquatic are often less about individual words assigned to specific combinations - though that can be applied to some - but more about the overall visual expression. (For example, in the right context, random and scattered twinkling refers to stars, or the night sky.) Aquatic, like much of SeaWing culture, is loose, expressive and artistic.

-Large and airy frills run along their bodies, connecting at the tail. These bolden their appearance and make some swimming patterns almost mesmerizing.

-Colors, like many SeaWing traits, vary greatly, but blues and greens are most common. Grays, purples and even pinks also appear on occasion. 

-Due to the vastness of the oceans, there are multiple variants of the typical SeaWing. Living outside the sea kingdom, near the coral reefs bordering the mud kingdom and rainforest on the east side of Pyrrhia, are the fittingly-named Coral SeaWings, which are brightly-colored with rougher and rockier scales (and even minor color-changing abilities). Another group, with sightings so rare as to be unconfirmed beyond urban legend, is the Deep SeaWings; almost nothing is known about these besides a dark and spiny appearance with vivid bioluminescent markings. 

-Gills allow underwater breathing; small lungs allow above-water breathing, but not as strongly or reliably. SeaWings also have a few adaptations that allow them to withstand pressure changes.

Life Cycle:

-SeaWings are laid in clutches of anywhere between 6 and 12. It’s these large groups that will make up their friends and peers for the first few years of their lives. SeaWing parents are present for the incubation and hatching of the eggs, and they are fiercely protective parents when the dragonets are very young, but most dragonets begin to be more independent after that. 

-While the sibling clutches aren’t as close as MudWing troops, they do tend to be quite interdependent and prefer each other’s company. Once they get a bit older, though, they often branch off and find friends and romantic partners outside this group. 

-SeaWings are monogamous and mate for life. It isn’t uncommon for the first dragon they show interest in to be the one they stay with. Both parents are considered equally responsible for dragonets if they have them.

-Because they’re hatched underwater, dragonets don’t learn to speak aloud, walk on land or fly until they’re several years old; some never do in detail, instead living underwater without contact with other tribes for their entire lives.

Culture and Society:

-SeaWing society is structured and organized around the royal family, who have great cultural influence and wealth. The Deep Palace alone holds about 40% of the SeaWing population, and it is by no means a small tribe.

-Arts are a huge cultural mark of the Sea Kingdom - no other tribe, aside from the NightWings, has such expansive literature, and SeaWing sculpting and jewelry-making is famous across Pyrrhia. Before the war, in fact, one of the main exports of the Sea Kingdom came from art exhibits - festivals held on near-shore islands, where dragons from all different tribes would come, to enjoy the scenery as well as look at and/or buy various displays of SeaWing art. 

-This is one of the most social and closely-bonded tribes; with talons mainly made for mobility, dull horns, and no breath weapon, SeaWings depend on each other for safety, and their society is close-knit. Social norm intricacies, politeness in language, and subtly complex ranks and boundaries are all cultural things that dragons simply adapt to by being around it.

-The SeaWing education system is one of the most successful and robust, with every dragonet attending a school for at least two years. If they choose, there are also more specific career paths they can take if there’s an area they’d like to specialize in. They are taught extensively in literature and history, basic hunting and self-defense, and basic land language and skills, such as how to walk and fly. 

-Even more than other dragons, they take great care to keep their scales and frills shiny and healthy. In-depth cleaning methods are abundant, to keep barnacles and parasites off of them, and SeaWings in general are seen as much more attractive when they’re polished and unscratched. As they get older and move less, it may become harder to keep barnacles and algae off, but some SeaWings accept this and allow themselves to take on a “stones in a tide pool” look as a clear indication of age. SeaWings also enjoy jewelry, particularly made up of pearls and precious stones on strings; gold and silver don’t work as well underwater.

-They are resourceful and use a wide variety of tools; the fact that they have few natural defenses has led to a greater use of weapons than most other tribes, for example.

Diet: Facultative carnivorous (mostly meat). Fish, shellfish and crustaceans make up the vast majority of their diet, but their meals can also include a few types of seaweed, seagrass and other aquatic plants. In the palace, large hunting groups provide food for the entire population, but SeaWings who live outside of it usually provide food for themselves.

#wings of fire #wof art #wof headcanons #seawings #my posts

[funhouse-mirror-barbie]

Rating Hazbin Characters based on if I could tell what animal/creature their supposed to be:

Disclaimer: THIS IS NOT MEANT TO BE AN ATTACK ON HH’s CREATOR/ARTISTS.

I really hate that I even have to say that, because art critique is part of engaging with art and design. People shouldn’t have to worry about being bullied or sent threats because they don’t like every single thing about a piece of media. I’m not saying these character designs are “objective bad” or anything like that.

I just realized that I didn’t know most of the designs were apparently based on animals for a long time, or until it was pointed out to me, and wanted to kind of review/examine that.

Ratings below:

ANGEL DUST—Spider—2/5:

I’m giving Angel a 2 because his design does look spider-ish to me, but I had to be told he was a spider to see the spider-elements to his design. I don’t think I would have figured it out unless told, the only time I think I could have figured it out on my own is with the spider web elements in Addict. The spots under his eyes being extra spider eyes kind of makes sense, but I don’t think I would have realized they were supposed to be eyes if I hadn’t been told. They did actually get drawn as eyes briefly when Angel got mad in the show when it came out-so that was actually really nice to see.

ALASTOR—DEER—0.5/5

Literally nothing about this man’s design makes him look like a deer to me. I gave the half point for the teeny tiny antlers at the top of his head, and because I do think his shoe print being a deer hoof pattern is kinda clever. But i should be able to see his antlers easily if they are an important part of his character design and if he’s supposed to be a deer. I also thought he was an OWL for like. 2 or 3 years while the Pilot was being animated b/c of his hair tufts. They looked like a great horned owl’s feather tufts to me.

VEE—no I’m not calling her that—MOTH

Pilot: 0/5 // Final Show: 1/5

I wanted to add Pilot Vee b/c other than Charlie her design was probably the one that seems to have changed the most. Pilot Vee gets a 0 sadly b/c, while I actually don’t mind her base design that much, and think she looks good, literally NOTHING about her looks like a moth. Is she even still supposed to be a moth? Asking genuinely b/c that’s what everyone says but if that’s the case I sure as hell couldn’t tell and still can’t.

Show Vee gets 1 point b/c I DO like the design element they brought back from her first ever design where her hair is supposed to mimic a moth’s wings laid back. I thought that was clever and fun. It’s the only thing tho that kind of points towards her being a moth. Again if I’m wrong and she’s not supposed to be a moth lmk but every source I’ve seen says she’s a “moth demon” or that her design was based on a moth.

HUSK—CAT—5/5

I mean just look at him. That’s a fucking cat alright! Only thing I may have docked a point for is the feather tail thing, but tbh it’s still very clear he’s a cat. If someone tells me he’s not supposed to be based on a cat tho I may lose my mind.

NIFFTY—???/5 (???)

Is Niffty supposed to be an animal? No, right? She’s just like. A weird creature/girl. Please tell me Niffty is not supposed to be a certain animal or anything b/c I have NO idea what animal that would be.

VALENTINO—MOTH—0/5

I literally had no idea this guy was supposed to be a moth until his coat turned out to be wings for some reason. Nothing about the coat made it look like wings to me. I thought his “antennae” were just feathers in his hat. Even when his coat became wings I was still very confused and thought for a moment he was supposed to be a butterfly? But no apparently he’s a moth. He’s got extra arms but I didn’t think that was specifically a “bug/moth” thing, b/c so many of the character designs in HH have extra features. I’ll be real I really don’t like anything about Valentino’s design and don’t understand the appeal of him at all. Sorry Val fans :(

KATIE KILLJOY—PRAYING MANTIS—0/5

I’m really sad I have to give out another 0 but like, I had NO idea that Katie was supposed to be a Mantis. I’m not sure if that’s even accurate like maybe that was just a rumor/speculation?? Right? Please let me know b/c I seriously NEVER would have guessed that she’s supposed to be a Praying Mantis. Even in her other form, I would have thought they were trying to imply she’s a spider…why did they give her 4 eyes? I can’t tell if they’re supposed to represent pseudo-pupils or a mantis’ ocelli but I never would have thought of them as that. I just thought she was like. A scary monster white lady/“karen”-type 😭

CHARLIE—PUPPY/PORCELAIN DOLL/LAMB?GOAT? THING???—2.5/5 (?)

So, based on the creator/character designers statements from a podcast, I believe that Charlie is supposed to be a sort of…amalgamation of the above? But honestly I’m not sure. I’m that statement they mentioned she had a lamb or puppy nose, and I think they mentioned before that her heels are supposed to look like hooves? But also the creator made a tweet saying they never intended her design to be a goat, so I don’t really know what she’s supposed to be. I gave Charlie a 2.5 b/c she DOES look like a porcelain doll to me. Or like. A. Clown??? Cause of her cheek marks. Idk. She at least looks like one of the things she’s “supposed” to be according to the creator, and I can see the puppy element with the nose if that’s what was intended. The lower ranking is more because I’ve heard MULTIPLE things about her design elements so I’m not sure what the intention was with her.

I would have bumped her up to a 3 if I knew what she was supposed to be, but b/c it’s been stated that she’s based on several things it’s hard to tell, and I can’t actually tell if that’s still the case.

———

I may do another one of these with some other characters. There are a few in Helluva Boss that I couldn’t really read either but most of those designs make much more sense to me. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#hazbin critique #hazbin hotel critique #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #character design #character design convo #funhouse convo #character design critique #character designs #art #animation #media criticism #media critique #media conversation

[fieldofdaisiies]

Fly, Little Bat

ship: Nessian type: fluffy drabble word count: 1,3k words warnings: none summary: first time flying for Nessian's daughter, for @nessianweek ❤️

The sun is shining brightly in the sky, casting a beautiful glow upon the weathered trees that stand tall in front of the mountainous landscape. Birds chirp somewhere in the distance, leaves rustling in the soft wind that blows around them. 

Cassian, his wings already stretched wide, turns his head to glance over his shoulder. "Ready, little bat?"

Alayla wears an expression of worry. Her brows are furrowed, drawn together over the bridge of the nose, her lips are pressed in a thin line and she drags the tip of her booted foot over the ground. Cassian's heart breaks at the sight. 

His tiny daughter, dressed in her teeny-tiny Illyrian leathers stands in the middle of the forest, and looks so very lost in this moment. Her wings are draped on the ground, dragging over the pine needles and pebbles and he can almost feel the pain. 

The general quickly spins around, taking fast steps towards his little girl and folds in his own wings. He lifts his hand to his mate who was about to approach as well, tilting his head, so she understands that he wants to deal with this now. And this is fine for Nesta, she stays at the little rock she is seated on, looking forward to watching her mate teach their daughter how to fly. 

Nesta, just like always when Cassian and Alayla do something together, feels how her heart swells in her chest, thrumming with happy beats. It is a sight for sore eyes, and she knows she couldn't have hoped for a better father for her little baby than Cassian. He is everything a child can hope for.

"What is up, little bat?" Cassian asks in a calm voice as he crouches down in front of his little girl. 

Alayla only barely lifts her gaze, her fingers fidgeting with a lapel on her Illyrian leathers. 

"What if I fall?" she asks in a shaky voice, her whole body shuddering when her biggest fear is finally revealed. 

"Oh, Layly," Cassian breathes and immediately reaches out to pull her into his strong arm. "You won't fall. We practiced so much, so many days. I know you can fly, you a great at it. There is no chance you will fall." Cassian kisses the top of her head when she relaxes against him, sitting down on his thigh. Cassian is still crouching on the ground, letting his daughter sit down and nestle against him. 

The tip of her index finger pokes into his shoulder and she draws patterns onto his shirt. "But what if I suddenly forget how it works? What if my wings suddenly give in?" 

She leans her head against his shoulder with a dramatic sigh. 

Cassian gives her tight squeeze, and hums. "Little bat, you always have to remember that the wings are an extension of your will. They mirror your thoughts and emotions. If you want them to be strong and carry you, they will do so."

Alayla leans back the slightest bit and gazes at her father's face, eyes wide open. Behind her shoulders her wings quiver with anticipation. "You really mean it?" she asks, her voice a little steadier. 

Cassian nods. "I absolutely do." He lifts her back onto the ground again and straightens up a bit. "But, in case, really just in case, they do give in, I am here to catch you. I am always by your side, and I will catch you when you only as much as tumble."

The young Illyrian girl smiles at that and nods. She looks so much like Cassian, it almost always draws tears to his eyes. But, she has his mate's eyes, his mate's nose, she is just perfect. 

"But, we don't have to do this today, Layly. We can postpone flying until you are ready," Cassian then says, reaching his hand out for his daughter to take. "You don't have to fly today." All of a sudden, something like determination fills her eyes, and she stomps her little foot down. "But I want to do it now, daddy." She smiles up at him, eyes shining brightly. "I decided I want to do it today and I want to fly today."

Cassian chuckles at the sudden change in mood of his daughter and mentally reminds himself that she definitely got that from her mother. 

"Then, nothing can stop you anymore." He grins. 

Once they stop at the edge of the slope, Alayla is a mixture of excitement and nervousness, emotions bubbling up inside of her. 

Cassian slowly extends his wings, and the girl mimics his gesture. "Spread your wings, as if embracing the sky, Layly," he instructs, his words like a soft caress. 

Pride starts to bubble inside of him, and he knows it will only increase when she takes the sky. 

With a slow inhale, Alayla steadies herself on the ground, her feet planted in a stance. 

She imagines herself weightless, as the wind wraps around her and carries her over the sky. 

"And don't forget," Cassian says, "I am always by your side. You are never alone."

Her wings unfurl tentatively at first, the leathery skin shining in the sunlight that filters through the trees. 

Cassian stands beside her, his own wings casting a shadow upon half of her body.

"Let go of your doubts, Layly. And then… let go of ground."

With a determined exhale, Alayla pushes up, wings tense and spread wide. She lifts onto her tiptoes, wings starting to flutter behind her shoulders. Her expression is concentrated. Brows drawn together, teeth clenched, hands balled into fists. 

"Remember what uncle Az always said, you were born listening to song of the wind."

Alayla nods eagerly, somehow hanging between the ground and the air for a split second. And then…she takes off, wings flapping and fluttering eagerly. 

She tumbles a little at first, but suddenly darts towards the open sky. Cassian cheers and hollers behind her, following her. 

Nesta, jumping up from the rock, runs forward and cheers as well, shouting loudly, tears flowing down her cheeks. "Yes!" she shouts up into the sky. "Yes, my little baby. Yes! Look at you go!"

An enormous amount of pride fills Cassian, following after his daughter. He brings a hand up, to brush away a single tear that rolls out of his eyes. But more are coming. 

Alayla was truly born for flying. She dips and soars, happily and freely, giggling and cheering herself. "Daddy, look!" she shouts over to Cassian who follows her with the biggest grin on his face. His daughter's laughter fills the sky, dancing on the wind.

Below, Nesta watches, tears shimmering in her eyes. Her heart swells with an overwhelming love for her family, and so very much pride. She marvels at the sight in the sky above her. 

Cassian is carefully flying behind little Alayla while the little girl blazes through the sky. Nesta knows she is always safe with Cassian, she does not have to worry about her little girl falling. 

The two of them stay in the sky for only the Mother knows how long. 

And until, Cassian captures his little girl in his arms. Her excitement has out-ruled her exhaustion and she did not realise that she was growing tired. 

Alayla rests her head on her father's shoulder, arms curled around Cassian's neck, his strong arm around her, as he lowers the two of them to the ground. She sighs, and her eyes flutter shut. 

"Someone's a little tired," he hums and walks up to Nesta after touching down on the ground. 

He places a soft kiss against his mate's lips, marvelling at the feel of having the two most important people in his life here with him. He is so happy, so proud, so filled with love and joyfulness. 

"It was amazing. She was amazing," Nesta says in a soft voice, eyes still glazed with tears.

"I knew she was going to be great at flying." Cassian speaks with pride and utter admiration, his eyes sparkling and he wraps Nesta into his other arm. 

"She also had a great teacher," his mate says and kisses his chest. "I love you two so much."

~~~~~~~ tags: @helhjertet@moonlightazriel@aayo-whatt@crushedcloudsx@brekkershadowsinger@girasoli-e-sorrisi@ignite-me@swifti-ed@cassiansbigwingspan@burningsnowleopard@banasheefan56@a-frog-with-a-laptop

#nessian #nessian daughter #nesta x cassian #acotar #acosf #cassian #nesta #nessianweek2023

[futurehunt]

My Old Friend, Fire

Azriel x Eris

Against his better wishes, Azriel has found himself growing close to the new Autumn High Lord, Eris Vanserra. The male has dug himself under his skin and now he can't get him out. An invitation to the Autumn Equinox changes the path of Azriel's life for the better.

Read on AO3

AO3 version is updated with editing and spelling corrections!!

Word count: 15,737

Azriel POV

18+

Content warning: Smut- story can be enjoyed fully without reading it!

*no beta, we die in Prythian

This is long, I apologize! It's a lot of feeling, realizing, and longing. Azriel's got all the emotions. Flashbacks are in italics- they all have important details in them that tie in at the end so don't miss 'em!

~~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

"I would do it all again. I would suffer another five centuries of you loving another, another five centuries of facing my father's cruelty, another five centuries of being hated by all of Prythian just for this- just for you."

~~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

Read full story below

Azriel shifted his weight from one foot to the other, fidgeting at the pinching sensation caused by the buttons on the wing-flaps of his jacket.

Mor had bought it special for him, special for today.

It was a tight-fitted jacket made of a dark, woodsy green fabric. Along the cuffs and collar were sewn black embellishments that swirled and shaped a pattern so complex that Azriel hated to think of how many hours went into creating it. Intricately carved silver buttons ran up the front and finished at a final clasp around the middle of his neck.

Mor said the jacket suited him, brought out the colors in his eyes. Azriel just felt like a fool.

He'd been on edge all week leading up to tonight. The Autumnal Equinox, Mabon. The Autumn Court's Great Rite.

It was Eris's first Equinox as High Lord of Autumn. He had graciously extended an invite to Rhysand, Feyre and the Inner Circle- his treasured allies he mockingly referred to them as in his letter- and encouraged them to come celebrate his new position and experience a true taste of Autumn.

"Treasured?"

Eris remained silent in response, bow drawn tight. His sharp gaze honed in on a pheasant, trackings its movement through the stalks of wheat. Its emerald neck acting as a beacon for the eye.

Azriel wondered what it would be like to be on the receiving end of that gaze, how it would burn.

On an exhale, Eris let the arrow fly. "Don't talk while I'm aiming, it's rude." He turned towards Azriel, not bothering to spare a glance to see if his arrow met its mark. Eris released a shrill whistle and his hounds took off, cutting through the stalks to their target.

"Treasured?" Azriel pressed again.

"I used my thesaurus for that one." Eris quipped back.

Azriel squinted his eyes at the High Lord. "You like being disliked, don't you. You're a masochist."

"You like me".

"I tolerate you." There was a chill in the wind that blew towards them across the field. It dusted red across Eris's pale cheeks, the fire in his blood seemingly not fighting the bite of the cold. "Here are the reports we have on Koschei. He's getting desperate."

Eris reached out for the thin file from Azriel, the full might of the hunter's gaze finally locked onto him. It burned right through him, just as Azriel had suspected. Burned right through to the icy center of him.

Rhysand and Feyre decided they would not attend. While they wanted to put on a good show for diplomacy, they deemed it unnecessary for the High Lord and High Lady to make an appearance. And as it is with them, where one goes so does the other. In their stead, Azriel, Mor, Cassian, and Nesta would be attending as representatives of the Night Court. Azriel was pretty sure Cassian and Nesta only decided to tag along because they wanted to fuck in the woods.

Azriel chuckled to himself as he remembered the conversation in which Cassian crudely explained to Nesta the erotic nature of Great Rite celebrations after nightfall. Nesta had known the basics, brief snippets of information from what Feyre had deigned to share with her about Calanmai, Spring Court's Great Rite, but wasn't aware the seasonal courts all had their own version. Nesta was all too eager to attend after learning everything.

Mor was attending because. . . he wasn't entirely sure. Azriel knew Mor had made great strides in accepting Eris as an ally of the court, knew that she had traveled the path of forgiveness with him and the two were on amicable terms. Amicable, nothing more. Eris certainly did not make it easy, he was still an asshole. Gods was he an asshole.

But Azriel also knew she was still haunted by the past. Saw it in the glaze in her deep brown eyes every time Keir threw barbed comments her way. Azriel gathered that this visit tonight would serve as one of Mor's final steps in conquering the demons of her past. Regardless, she seemed all too willing to attend.

It was part of the reason Azriel agreed to join the visit today- why Rhysand pulled him aside and adamantly requested he tag along. Though Rhysand's request left little room for disagreement.

He wanted Azriel there to keep an eye on Mor. Rhysand knew all too well how suffocating the horrors of your past could be. Azriel remembers vividly the nights, not too long ago, when dark power filled with shadows and stars would burst through his brother's window as he drowned under the weight of everything that haunted him.

.…........................

That's how Azriel found himself here, in the ornately decorated receiving room of the River House, the base of his wings getting pinched to Hel by the jacket Mor bought him for Mabon.

He's the first to arrive as usual.

It was barely past three in the afternoon but the sun, beaming in through the room's westerly windows, was already on a quick descent. His shadows dodged the rays and dissipated whenever they come in contact.

Azriel thumbed the plum, silk curtains that draped the large picture window whose frame he leaned on. Not that he would ever utter the thought out loud but he found the interior of his brother's home a bit gaudy. Fit for a High Lord, no doubt, but it felt impersonal.

Eris's manor smelled of sandalwood and cinnamon. Woodsy and sweet. The scent stuck inside of Azriel's nose, invading his senses. It invoked a nostalgia for an experience he had yet to live.

"The magic in Spring is growing weak- I can feel it in the land at our shared border. We need to get Tamlin back on track," Eris spoke without preamble. He stood opposite Azriel, a smoke gray granite countertop separating them. The texture of the stone rippled and eddied, it felt like the scars on his hands.

"Tea?"

Azriel nodded in assent and looked around the kitchen in which they stood. Dark brown wood laid the foundation of the room, it blended well with the warm colors of the furnishing.

"You made yourself right at home. Was your father's body even cold before you started moving in?" The question was probably too crude, even for Azriel.

Yesterday marked a month since the long awaited death of Beron Vanserra finally came to fruition.

Eris merely smirked over at him, taking his crass question in stride as he poured the second cup of tea. His eyes traced over every inch of Azriel's face before he responded, "You wound me, brute. This manor hasn't been inhabited since my grandfather. My father felt it too exposed and only resided in an apartment deep within the Forest House."

Azriel snorted. His only response. He continued to take in the room.

In the corner of the kitchen was a nook that housed a dining area encased by a dome of windows on one half. It gave the illusion that you were dining out in the jeweled canopy of the woods.

His attention caught on the dining chairs that surrounded the table.

They were all shaped to fit wings.

Growing weary of the solitude, Azriel decided to set out to track down Rhys, Feyre, and Nyx in the massive house when the carved wood door at the home's entrance swung open. From his spot within the receiving room, Azriel watched Mor strut in.

"I knew that color would look great on you," She tittered, looking him up and down, "you really ought to let me buy you more for your wardrobe."

Azriel's face pinched - answer enough to her demand.

"A shame" she bemoaned, throwing herself on to one of the room's stiff cobalt couches. "Where's Cass and his Lady Death? We should be off soon."

"Don't call her that." Azriel chastised, not having an answer for the first part of her question.

Mor just shot him a look, rolling her eyes. It's been a year and a half since Nesta sacrificed her Cauldron-stolen power for the life of her sister and nephew, yet Mor still clung to that infernal nickname. For Mor it's all in good fun, but Azriel never fails to catch the haunted look that ghosts Nesta's face whenever the moniker is used in her presence.

As if on cue, he heard the bustle of Cassian and Nesta coming in through the home's rear entrance. No doubt they landed on the back lawn after flying down from the House of Wind. Cass still likes to give Nesta a good fright by coming in hot for his landings, the back lawn providing a perfect landing zone for him.

Confirming his suspicions, Nesta's face is tinged with green as she rounded the corner and came in sight of Azriel and Mor.

"Cassian, they're in here," she called over her shoulder. Her hair, uncharacteristically, is worn loose today, with a tight braid running down the center of her head segregating both halves of her hair. Her mauve, linen dress was modest in the length of its hem and sleeves but clung to her frame in a way that suggested excellent tailoring. As she twisted to shout to his brother, Azriel noted the deep scoop of the dress's back.

"You look...very good today, Nesta." Azriel said to her as she twisted back around and entered the receiving room. Not that she didn't usually, though she now wore her Valkyrie leathers more often than not.

Mor interjected from the couch, "You didn't say anything to me! I even complimented your jacket".

"Your ego doesn't need anymore stroking, dear sister." Cassian quipped sarcastically, picking up the conversation without pause as he too rounded the corner and entered the room. "And, my even dearer mate is upset with me so she told me she'll be leaving me tonight for our beloved- her words not mine- High Lord of Autumn".

Azriel hummed his acknowledgment, not wanting to voice anything that may incidentally draw himself into the middle of their squabble.

Eris would probably think she looked drab in the linen dress.

"Linen is the fabric of the working class, Azriel," Eris drawled, a mischievous grin lifting the right corner of his mouth.

Even from his position on the leather tufted couch on the opposite end of the room, Azriel could see the mirth glimmering in Eris's eyes from where he sat behind his grand mahogany desk. Azriel twisted away from the sight to look back into the depths of the crackling fireplace that warmed the High Lord's office.

"You're just a snob", he shot at Eris, not bothering to turn around again.

He heard him snort. "Linen is a lightweight, breathable, porous fabric. It is designed to be worn by those working the fields. It's not supposed to be fashionable- I'd look like a fool wearing linen to a dinner with my court representatives. Apologies for knowing the intricacies of garments and how they relate to socio-economic class."

Azriel couldn't help himself. Throwing an arm across the back of the couch he twisted to look back at Eris again.

"Lightweight, breathable, porous fabric? You're a snob and an ass." He secretly delighted in the look of glee that flashed across Eris's face at the insult. "Why even ask for my opinion then? If your own was so decisive."

"I like to hear what you think." Nothing but truth burned in the amber flames of Eris's eyes.

"Thank you, Azriel." Nesta shot sharply at him. She lowered herself gracefully onto the couch opposite of Mor. Not allowing space on either side of her for Cassian and his wings, leaving him to settle in standing next to Azriel.

He felt a nudge on his shoulder and looked over at his brother who leaned in and said, "Nice jacket, Az. You look like a proper little prince of Autumn in it".

Azriel scoffed, taking a wide step away from his brother before quickly twisting his body to punch Cassian in the arm in retribution for his gibe.

Nesta guffawed from where she perched on the couch. Composing herself, she remarked, "At least he made an effort! You look like you're ready for a visit to Windhaven."

It was true. Cassian donned a standard set of his leathers, albeit cleaner and newer than his usual ones.

"Whatever. I'm not making an effort for the prick," Cassian shot, impudence lacing his tone. "It's an Equinox celebration that the entire court is invited to, at most we'll see him to shake his hand before he moves on to others he deems more worthy of his time."

He wasn't wrong. Like Calanmai in Spring, Grianstad in Winter, or Litha in Summer, denizens of Autumn flooded to their court's seat during Mabon to celebrate the equinox and participate in the Great Rite. It's a tradition, Azriel heard, that even Beron nurtured and encouraged. After all, a fruitful turnout for a Great Rite produces a wealth of magic for the court. Azriel is sure that another strong motivator for Beron's patronage of the event were the swaths of young fae females that showed up clambering for his attention, hoping the magic of the Rite would choose them for their High Lord. Even the deep-seated fear and corruption that Beron plagued the land with wasn't enough to dim the honor of being selected by whatever powers governed the Rite.

This year, for the first time, it would be Eris's turn to lead the Great Rite. He would pair off with a lady and together they would fuel enough magic to inundate the land until the next Mabon. The thought settled like glass in Azriel's stomach.

"Even then," Cassian continued "he'll likely only deign to be touched by you, Nesta. The rest of us are too beneath him for an actual handshake."

"Speak for yourself, Cassian," Mor chimed in indignantly.

Nesta hummed in agreement and added, "He'd probably give Azriel a handshake. After all, he's the closest with Eris out of any of us at this point."

"We are not close," Azriel growled at her defensively.

He immediately regretted his tone when he saw the trepidation in her eyes. He felt like his father.

"Is your father still alive?" curiosity clouded Eris's face from across the chessboard between them.

Azriel's eyes flickered up to him for a moment to take in his demeanor before refocusing on the board as he took one of Eris's black marble bishops with his gleaming, white knight.

"How is that a pertinent question?"

"How is playing chess pertinent," Eris countered.

"As the official liaison between the Night and Autumn court, it's my duty to make sure our allies are properly schooled in all forms of strategy," Azriel arrogantly replied. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep his grin from spreading across his face. After six months of working with Eris as liaison between their two courts, he had come to enjoy the haughty banter the pair fell into in each other's presence.

"Azriel," Eris dead-panned.

Azriel would never admit to the shiver that ran through him at the sound of his name in Eris's mouth. Shame washed over him at the mere acknowledgement of the sensation.

"He's dead," he at last replied to Eris, dryly.

"He gave you those burns?"

Azriel only shook his head.

"You're ashamed of them." An observation, not a question from the High Lord.

Azriel settled his face into a sheet of neutrality. His centuries-old mental barriers slamming into place as the topic of conversation entered an area he had no interest in going.

Playing his turn, Azriel hoped to end the game quickly now. He shouldn't have stayed this long anyway, was only there to assess the durability of the security wards around Forest House as a courtesy to Eris.

Quiet blanketed them as the pair finished up their game. Azriel refused to raise his eyes to look at Eris.

"Beron would have healers erase all the scars he etched on me. For five centuries."

"I don't care, Eris." Cruel words that did not reflect the truth. He did care- deep down in a pocket of his soul that he never let see the light of day- he cared about what Eris had to say.

Azriel still refused to raise his gaze up to the High Lord sitting across from him.

"He would erase everything he did to me. No proof that I lived. No proof that I suffered. No proof that I survived. All my torment is trapped inside my head with no evidence that it happened, no outlet for escape... I wish he had left them... but that was probably the point of healing them in the first place."

Eris's declaration cut deep through him, burning through the layers of his defenses in a rage of fire.

He stayed for another round of chess.

Azriel ran a scarred hand down his face, mortification riding through him in waves.

"I'm sorry, Nesta, I didn't mean to snap."

Nesta shook off his words with ease. "I only mean to say, you literally are closest with him," she pressed on "the rest of us haven't even seen him since his crowning ceremony eleven months ago. You're the only one meeting with him anymore."

Of course. He was such an idiot. Of course that's what she meant.

Cassian came up behind him, clamped his hands on his shoulders, and jostled him jovially. His brother's voice boomed behind me, "Don't worry, Az, we know you still hate the lordling as much as ever. We'd never dare suggest otherwise." Azriel could've sworn he heard an undercurrent of sarcasm lacing his brother's tone.

But he didn't hate Eris. Didn't hate him at all. Dreaded the looks on his family's faces when they realized just how much he didn't hate Eris Vanserra anymore.

That was the other part of the reason he agreed to join the visit today. For the past eleven months he'd been working as the Night Court's liaison to Autumn, having taken it over from Cassian, he's found himself... inexplicably drawn to the High Lord. Perhaps in the absence of conflict, Azriel was subconsciously poking around for danger and adrenaline. Eris made his blood boil and he was addicted to it. Not that he would ever admit that out loud.

Mor was looking at him with an expression he couldn't decipher.

"We should go." Was all he said to the room.

The females got up from their respective places on the couches and together they all trundled through the receiving room out into foyer.

"Guess Rhys and Feyre don't want to see us off," Mor observed.

"Ten gold marks they're both dead asleep upstairs. Nuala told us that Nyx has started climbing out of his crib at night and that Rhys and Feyre can't leave him unattended for even a second," Cassian added, laughing.

The four of them headed out to the front courtyard, not wanting to check and risk waking the parents up. They cut across to a point that would put them outside the wards encasing the River House.

Nesta grabbed Cassian's hand. Feyre, in her free time, had been teaching Nesta how to winnow. The eldest sister became adept at it rather quickly and could even carry Cassian along with her over great distances.

Together, they winnowed away to the Autumn Court.

....................

A thrum of voices chattering around him was the first sensation Azriel perceived as his shadows dissipated and left him standing in an area of woods on the outskirts of the Forest House.

The next sensation to follow was an aroma of smoked meat, spun sugar, and baked pastries.

Surrounding him, and stretching out as far as he could see, were merchant stands and food stalls. There seemed to be no coordination with how the stalls were organized. They were dotted randomly throughout the woods, the sea of stands interspersed with giant oak trees that comprised this section of the forest.

Waves of people bustled around him, side-stepping the obstacle of his body in order to reach their next destination.

He snapped his wings tight into him to avoid any unwanted contact.

Azriel looked over the heads of the fae surrounding him to try and locate Mor, Nesta, and Cassian. There had to be thousands here. His eyesight found no end to the mass of people.

At last, he spotted the three of them already together a few hundred paces away, ogling the vendors. He made his way over and heard the last snatch of what Mor was saying.

"- seen these only in Montesere." Her voice was filled with awe.

They were huddled around a table laden with glazed pottery. Plates, mugs, and bowls all painted with rich, vibrant jewel tones.

"Eris reached out to a few territories on the continent to invite local artisans to come sell their wares at this year's Mabon," Azriel confirmed, sidling up beside Mor. "With Calanmai being... not what it used to...with everything going on with Tamlin...Eris is trying to pick up some of the slack."

Mor's face twisted in surprise at his words.

"And I think he's trying to set a good precedent. After all, Beron only allowed upper-class and high fae craftsmen to set up booths here and apparently he even took a cut of their sales," Azriel scoffed out. "Eris didn't limit who could participate this year. He told me a lot of local lesser fae farmers are coming and selling excess crop from the growing season that just concluded- I think he might've gone a bit overboard with how many he's permitted though."

Mor nodded silently, smirking in amusement at him.

Realizing how much he'd just prattled on about Eris and his booths, Azriel felt his face heat up.

He focused his attention of the pottery in front of him, suddenly very interested in inspecting the intricacy of the handiwork.

Azriel pointedly avoided Nesta's stare that was burning a hole through his head. He had easily just proved wrong his statement earlier about how close him and the High Lord had become.

"So...is that where Eris lives?" Nesta's attention had shifted away from him and she was turned around, pointing to the Forest House in the distance. It's oppressive size seemed to have stunned her. Azriel knew from experience that it took around three hours to get from one side to the other, having done the entire walk with Eris a few months ago.

Azriel shook his head, refusing to foolishly prattle on again and reveal precisely how entrenched in Eris's life he really was.

"From what Azriel's told me, he now lives in the High Lord's manor. It has sat vacant since his grandfather. I think it's somewhere on the other side of the Forest House," Mor fills in for him. "Though from the crowd that's gathered around the south entrance, I'm assuming Eris is likely over there now."

Indeed, there was a massive congregation of people milling around the wide, stone stairs that led up to the grand south entrance of the Forest House. The massive wooden doors at the top landing were thrown open. Though due to the row of guards flanking the stairs and entryway doors, Azriel couldn't make out if Eris was up there.

It hit him then.

The hundreds of fae gathered around the steps, the thousands more that wandered through the festival, the countless guards and sentries patrolling the area- they were all here for Eris. Eris Vanserra, the bane of Azriel's immortal existence, the High Lord of Autumn. Eris was a High Lord now; no longer a pestering lordling with dreams brighter than his own damn hair.

Azriel knew this, of course, had been working one-on-one with Eris for months to help ease the transition into his new role. But being here, it all felt more real.

The Eris he played chess with last week in the study of his manor home while they drank out of a shared bottle of wine was the same High Lord who now ruled the court he stood in and drew the crowd of thousands surrounding him. The same High Lord who seemed to already have the admiration and respect of many, given the throng waiting to greet him.

The crowd awaiting Eris seemed to be largely comprised of females, no doubt hoping to be the lucky maiden selected to help him complete the Great Rite that began after sundown.

Azriel's shadows thrashed around him at the thought.

"Well, let's go get the greetings over with. One of Eris's weasly guards probably already informed him of our arrival," Mor said bluntly, stepping away from the table of pottery.

Azriel steeled himself with a breath and dropped into step next to her as the four of them weaved their way through the festival-goers and headed for the south entrance steps.

He was thankful for the push of the crowd that slowed their journey down.

A wave of anxiety flooded through Azriel, causing his stomach to clench. His lungs wouldn't expand to take a full breath and it was making his surroundings spin. He felt like he was standing on the precipice of a battle that he was guaranteed to lose.

Why was he nervous?

Azriel willed his centuries of training to take over and took a deep breath to release the tension that seized him.

He pulled at the high-neck collar of his jacket, hoping to loosen it. It felt like a leash growing tighter with every step he took towards the Forest House.

Eris was going to mock the jacket, he was sure of it. He was going to call Azriel 'a want-to-be Autumn aristocrat fool', he never should have let Mor dress him in this.

He just hated seeing Eris. Hated the male's all-knowing gaze that could tear through Azriel's defenses without a thought. Mor, Cassian, and Nesta were going to see it. They were going to see the way Eris could pick him apart and expose a layer of Azriel he never showed. They were going to witness first-hand just how much the Autumn High Lord affected him.

As they reached the rear of the crowd huddled around the bottom of the staircase, Azriel's eyes darted around the top trying to spot the High Lord.

He couldn't see him. Where was he? Was something wrong?

And as much as he was dreading speaking to the male, his absence made Azriel's stomach drop even further.

His mind whirled with unexplainable anxiety.

He needed the Cauldron-damned crowd to get out of his way so he could get up there and see if something was wrong.

Fae tended to retreat willingly away from Azriel. His oppressive height, writhing shadows, and intimidating wingspan conveyed what he usually didn't need words for. It seemed the prospect of catching sight of the new Autumn High Lord distracted the fae in front of him enough that none marked his presence behind them.

"Move," Azriel's deep, menacing voice broke through the thrum of sound. He felt no inclination to add pleasantries to his request.

As the fae closest heard him, they turned to look at the source of the sound and scrambled back at the sight of him.

With ease, Azriel marched through the pathway that opened for him and led Mor, Nesta, and Cassian to the stairs.

Five flights made up the grand entrance and by the second landing Azriel still couldn't catch sight of Eris.

Desperation quickened his pace.

At last he reached the third landing, coming into view of the palatial wooden doors of the Forest House thrown open at the top. And there he was.

Eris.

A full breath of air whooshed into Azriel's lungs as he finally gazed upon the High Lord.

Eris's beauty was undeniable. It was almost laughable the way he made everyone around him look simple. A God stood amongst fae-kind.

In the afternoon sun, Eris's hair glowed like living flames; the ends of those fiery locks pushed back behind his pointed ears. Those very ears were adorned with a handful of small golden hoops in the upper cartilage, drawing Azriel's eye to trace along their curve.

His beautiful, wicked face was twisted into a wry grin in reaction to whomever he was speaking to. Azriel couldn't tear his eyes away from the High Lord to check. With his unmarred porcelain skin, Eris appeared to have been carved from marble.

Azriel's eyes continued their journey down the slope of Eris's neck, taking his time to trace its length. He was surprised Eris couldn't feel his gaze burning into him.

The male wore a billowing white silk shirt whose neck hung open to reveal a hint of the muscled chest that lay underneath. He wondered what more lay unexposed. The shirt was tucked into a pair of dark, well-tailored pants- very well-tailored pants.

On top of his ensemble, Eris donned a cloak whose hemmed reached to the bottom of his boots. The garment was a rich, velvety maroon, with gold details running down the sides of the opening.

Perfectly put together as always. Eris was skilled at wielding clothes like a weapon, he always knew how to arm himself properly for the occasion. And today he looked so damn regal and powerful, commanding the attention of everyone around him.

As if finally registering the weight of his observation, Eris turned and caught sight of Azriel and the others.

A wide smile broke across Eris's face.

Azriel's head whipped around to look behind himself. Who the hell was Eris smiling at? Mor? Nesta? Had someone else followed them up the stairs?

Cassian and the two females had come to a stop behind Azriel, no longer ascending the stairs.

When had he stopped walking?

Azriel looked back and the smile that had cut across Eris's face was gone. The male was now biting his lower lip, keeping it still.

Cassian gave him a push from behind before sliding around Azriel to take the lead with Nesta.

"Let's go you fool," his brother said to him gruffly.

The shove and command from his brother broke Azriel out of his reverie. It must be the magic of Mabon that entranced Azriel when he was regarding Eris. The magic flows most acutely through the High Lord after all. Azriel had become as spell bound as the hoard of fae below him.

Azriel resumed his climb, drawing nearer and nearer to Eris.

As Cassian reached the final landing ahead of him and approached Eris, Azriel heard the High Lord say in greeting, "Well, if it isn't my favorite court. Behind the four others. I'll be generous and put Tamlin at the bottom of my ranking."

Still an asshole. A beautiful asshole.

"You're look very pretty today. I like what that jacket does for your eyes." Azriel chuckled at his brother's words. Cassian had learned well how to get under Eris's skin.

Eris sneered at him, not responding, before turning his gaze to Nesta. His expression lightened as he looked to her. "Nesta, you do yourself no favors with the company you keep."

To Azriel's surprise, Cassian chuckled good-naturedly at the High Lord's remark.

"It's lovely to see you again, Eris." replied Nesta, politely. "I think you might be right. I find myself occasionally regretting my refusal of your proposal."

Eris nodded his head in the mockery of a bow before replying sarcastically, "At your earliest convenience Lady Archeron, I will eagerly make you my bride." His eyes glittered with derision.

Nesta chuckled, curtseying before Eris, before grabbing Cassian's hand and pulling him out of the way.

Eris shifted his attention to Mor. "Morrigan, I must say I did not anticipate your appearance today."

"Eris," Mor nodded in greeting. "It's been a while since my last visit."

Visit is not how Azriel would categorize it.

She continued, "I wanted to reacquaint myself with the court and I heard," her eyes shot to Azriel, "that this event was not to be missed."

Azriel's face twisted. He said no such thing.

"Hmm," Eris hummed as his gaze quickly darted to Azriel, "Well I'm happy you could attend. I hope everything is up to your standards."

Perfectly cordial, the two of them. They had come such a long way.

Mor gave no reply before bowing out of the way.

She turned to Azriel, squeezed his arm and said quietly, "We'll wait for you at the bottom of the steps."

Why? He didn't voice the question aloud.

He turned to face Eris who was glaring pointedly at the spot on Azriel's arm that Mor just touched.

Azriel stood in silence, waiting. After a moment, Eris's stare rose to his.

"Azriel."

"Eris."

More silence.

Eris's gaze darted down Azriel's frame, taking him in.

With surprise lacing his tone, the High Lord said, "Your jacket... I like it."

Azriel's brows shot up his face.

"The color. It suits you. I don't think I've ever seen you in something other than black. I appreciate that you made an effort with my court's style," Eris added on. Genuine sincerity shone in his face.

Azriel merely nodded in thanks.

A slight weight lifted off of Azriel's chest at the High Lord's words. Why did he give a damn what Eris thought about his clothing? It was humiliating. Why did he have this irritating need to impress him, to get his approval?

Azriel wanted to run away from the knowing glint in Eris's eye, the ghost of the smirk that danced on his lips, like he knew exactly the effect his comments would have on Azriel.

Planning to do just that, Azriel spun on his heels angling to catch up with the rest of his companions who already reached the bottom of the staircase.

"Wait." Eris's voice stopped Azriel in his descent.

The Illyrian turned to look up at the High Lord who now descended the few steps Azriel was able to make.

Eris came to a stop on the same stair as Azriel. They were eye level. How had Azriel never realized the two of them were the same height? Perhaps it was due to Eris's new commanding presence, it was now impossible not to be aware of every detail about the High Lord. Azriel tried desperately to tamp down the flush in his cheeks.

Eris continued on, cool confidence lacing his tone, "I'm heading out to tour the vendors, would you join me?"

A lifetime of stoicism is the only thing that kept Azriel from reacting visibly.

There was a crowd of people waiting to meet the High Lord. More dignitaries were set to arrive, surely Eris had to wait to greet them.

But Eris was looking at him with such an earnest expression that Azriel couldn't find it in himself to care about what duties of his might take precedence.

"Is that... a request or a command, High Lord?" Azriel responded after a moment, keeping his features neutral.

Eris's eyes narrowed slightly.

"A command. I don't want you off on your own scaring away all my visitors"

Laughter broke from Azriel's mouth before he could catch it.

The corner of Eris's mouth quirked up in satisfaction.

That wouldn't do.

"No, thank you." That should humble the High Lord. Azriel took off down the flight of steps at a much quicker pace this time.

Silence. And then, "No?!" Eris called after him.

The smack of boots against stone rang out as Azriel heard Eris follow him.

Azriel made it down two flights, nearly halfway to the bottom, before Eris caught up. He could see Mor, Cassian, and Nesta looking up at them from below.

Eris grabbed his arm. His cheeks were flushed and eyes a bit wild as he demanded, "You really won't come with me?"

His arm tingled under the hand grasping it.

"Ask nicely."

Eris huffed out an exasperated laugh.

"-Azriel!" That was Mor's voice this time from two flights below.

He could see Eris's face bunch up in frustration. The grip on his forearm tightened infinitesimally.

She called up at him, "I promised Emerie I'd get her something so I'm going to go look around. Alright?"

Azriel nodded in understanding. It was then that he realized Nesta and Cassian had already peeled away and were reentering the thick bustle of the festival.

At his assent, Mor followed after them.

His attention returned to Eris.

"Azriel. Would you please join me?"

He was quiet for a moment, before, "Yes... what about them?" He nodded at the throng waiting for Eris.

The hand on him gripped hard and then Eris was winnowing them in a spark of heat and light.

..........................

They reappeared on the outskirts of the Forest House's northern side. A few hours walk from their last location.

The festival stands and crowds were sparser here. But in a small field of grass close to the northern entrance of the estate, a group of children were playing. Squeals of delight rang in Azriel's ear as the children ran around, tossing a ball between themselves. His shadows jumped at the shrill noises, darting out as if they'd investigate.

A pleasant, carefree atmosphere hung in the air.

"It's so... different here now," Azriel said carefully.

So different from Beron.

Eris hummed quietly in confirmation at Azriel's words. He wistfully watched the children play. "Rhysand once advised me that change is slow in our world and to prepare myself accordingly. I've personally found that it's only slow if you don't care to try hard enough."

Azriel's eyes narrowed at the slight jab to his brother.

Eris pulled his attention from the children and dropped his hand from where it still wrapped around Azriel's forearm. Azriel hadn't registered it was there but the cold it's absence left in its wake sent a shudder down his spine.

Leaves crunched under the heels of their boots as the pair walked leisurely into the festival.

"You think you care more than Rhys? Care more about your court?" The comment rubbed Azriel the wrong way, he couldn't let it go.

"I think Rhysand cares an awful lot about Velaris. I know he sacrificed greatly to keep them safe from Amarantha. But a High Lord's duty is to the well-being of everyone in his court, not just those he favors."

Azriel stopped in his tracks. "Don't speak about it as if you have any idea."

"Don't I?" Eris said, stopping with him. His brow quirked up on his face. "Aren't I one of the few that can now judge him?"

"You know nothing of the Night Court. Since when were you an advocate for the rights of Illyrians?"

"It's not the Illyrians about which I'm concerned."

Azriel's mouth dropped slightly, "The Court of Nightmares? You can't be serious. Keir has gotten to you."

Eris whooshed out a frustrated breath. "Keir is a pest. But he's not the only one that lives there. You forget that I have experience at Hewn City, not only now, but from before."

Rhys had snuck Cassian and Azriel into Hewn City earlier that morning. It was the first time Azriel had been anywhere but the steppes of Illyria.

His shadows writhed over his wings, something in the bowels of the mountain called to them.

The three of them stood a few hundred paces from the entrance to the Court of Nightmare's receiving hall.

She was in there. Mor.

She was in there with Keir getting introduced to her new captors, the Vanserras.

It was the reason for Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel's visit today. Mor would never admit it, that beautiful, proud female, but Azriel knew she was terrified for the encounter. He had practically begged on his knees for Rhys to take them there so they could keep an eye on her.

The grand obsidian doors that kept Mor from view creaked open suddenly, startlingly the three males.

They stood straight, imbuing confidence into their features. Despite being barely of age, the three of them refused to cower under the presence of Keir and the Autum High Lord.

Beron Vanserra exited first, Keir keeping at heels like an overexcited dog. Pathetic.

A few paces behind was Mor, eyes blazing as she kept her stare straight forward. And there he was.

Eris.

His cruel, cold beauty matched his reputation.

The second Azriel laid eyes on him, he felt a searing hatred for the male tear through his chest.

Azriel had hated before; hated his father, his half-brothers, the camp lords that shunned him. That hatred had been iced-cold, settling inside him like a stone. It followed him everywhere and pushed him to work harder, fight harder.

What he felt now, staring at the Autumn male before him, was a passion so bright it ached deep inside him. It set his blood on fire.

As if sensing Azriel's glare, the princeling's eyes slid over to him. Eris's mouth parted slightly, eyes widening, as he looked at him. The shadows often taken people by surprise.

Azriel sneered at him before tearing his eyes away to look at Mor. As she passed Azriel, she gave him a reassuring nod. She was alright.

He shot her a gentle smile in return.

He kept his attention on her as she walked away but had the odd sensation of another stare burning into him.

"I don't think you went there more than once," Azriel scoffed.

"I was enough."

"Enough for what?" Azriel grew exasperated.

"Enough to see that Mor was not the only young female desperate to escape that prison. She was just the only one that had a lifeline out of there. Rhysand condemns everyone in there for the crimes of their ancestors. For the crimes of Keir and his ilk. I know monsters lurk in every shadow corner of that gods-forsaken place but it's Rhysand's responsibility to not abandon those that need help. Who want something better."

That immediately shut Azriel up. He looked to Eris's face and saw a passionate fury on it, saw a look of someone who related intimately to about that which they spoke.

"Perhaps you're right." Damning words from Azriel's mouth. But today was not the day to delve into it, to process just how much a part Azriel played in keeping those people trapped within the confines of the Court of Nightmares.

A slight burst of guilt churned his stomach.

Eris observed him with an understanding he didn't deserve.

"Anyway," Eris shifted the topic onwards, "I am hungry." He made a show of looking around the booths around them as they walked. "What interests you?"

Azriel shrugged noncommittally. "Whatever doesn't have a line."

"Why would I want the food that doesn't have a line. Don't you think that would suggest it's not worth eating."

Azriel rolled his eyes and said, "Nothing can be that bad. Food is food."

"Very well. But if it is bad you still need to eat it all." Eris said and took off towards a food stand that stood patron-less.

As the two of them approached, the man standing behind the stand's counter eye's widened. A High Lord and an Illyrian shadowsinger marching towards you was likely an intimidating sight.

A basin of cooking oil bubbled away behind the stall, lit by a large fire kindled underneath. On a small table next to it two trays were filled; one with a rough flour mixture and one with beaten, uncooked eggs. A container full of wooden skewers sat next to it. On the ground, off to the side was an ice-box whose lid was firmly shut.

"My lord!" The stall's operator rose from his stool and gave Eris a sweeping bow.

He then merely jerked his head at Azriel, saying nothing. A look of contempt flashed across Eris's face at that.

Eris shook the look off his face and smiled stiltedly in greeting to the vendor. "We are looking for food, sir. What are you making here today?"

"Amazing," the vendor exclaimed, "I am the premier maker of fried Autumn frogs!"

Azriel watched Eris's brows shoot up his forehead.

That explained the lack of line.

Now that Azriel looked, he saw a crudely painted wooden sign depicting a frog skewered onto a stick. He should've been paying better attention on their approach.

"Wonderful." Even centuries of courtier skills couldn't stop the trepidation from slipping into Eris's voice.

"We-," Eris darted his eyes over to Azriel and he could see a dark humor glittering on the High Lord's face, "We will take three, please, one for me and two for my friend. He's very hungry."

Azriel stomped on the male's foot as soon as the vendor turned to start preparing their order.

"Food is food," the High Lord whispered at him, wincing in pain at his foot.

"I'm not even hungry," the Illyrian hissed back.

"Too bad, you are now." The High Lord chuckled at his own antics.

They stood there waiting for their food. Azriel scowled as he watched the frogs get dipped in the batter and then dunked into bubbling oil.

He was deeply regretting his earlier statement.

Eris slid a few silver marks onto the stall's table as Azriel grabbed two of the skewers from the vendor. He'd let Eris grab his own.

The pair strolled away, eyeing the food in their hands.

Azriel gulped before braving a small bite from the fried meat. He swallowed roughly.

"So?" Eris questioned.

Azriel contemplated for a moment before replying, "It's... not that bad." He went in for a second bite.

Following his approval, Eris raised his own skewer to his mouth and took a sizable bite.

The High Lord's face dropped at the taste that met him. His stare burned through Azriel with fury as he slowly chewed and swallowed the large bite that was in his mouth.

Azriel threw his head back roaring with laughter.

Eris chucked the food into a nearby trash bin, "That. was. disgusting," he seethed. "Why did you say it was good."

"You deserved it you ass." Azriel threw his skewers into the bin as well.

"It was sour!?"

Azriel continued to laugh.

Eris's eyes softened imperceptibly as he looked down at Azriel's smile. It sent a jolt through Azriel's system.

The two of them wandered on, appetite gone.

They stopped at many stalls along their walk. Eris thumbed through heavy, fur garments on display from a Winter Court seamstress. Azriel weighed and handled Raskian throwing knives brought from a merchant on the continent. The pair chuckled at a table that displayed men's silk undershorts, saying they were going to send a collection to Helion. Eris grimaced when Azriel reminded him his mother would be on the receiving end of the silk shorts, the male's amusement dissipated immediately. Azriel had to drag Eris away from buying a dozen handmade leather collars for his hounds. Eris did end up buying a thin silver chain bracelet from a local Autumn crasftwoman. It was made from a metal found only in this court, Eris told him, and the metal is the only known deterrent to the fire magic the flowed through the blood of Autumn court fae.

"It's incredibly hard to find, near impossible to forge into something wearable, and gods-damned expensive as a result. I can't explain to you how it works, just that it'll lessen the effect of fire magic on the wearer. The Mother balances all things she creates."

Eris pivoted towards him and in the blink of an eye clipped the bracelet around Azriel's own wrist. It sat right below where the scars on his hand faded into unmarred skin.

Azriel gaped at the High Lord.

"Well it's not like I need it," Eris said in response to his expression. "I am the Lord of fire. It's not exactly going to hurt me."

Fluttering ignited within Azriel's chest, it tickled along his ribs.

"Will it protect me from you?" He meant the question to sound coy but it came across strained.

Flames flickered in Eris's irises as he said, "Nothing could stop me from reaching you, Azriel."

Azriel's heart ponded painfully within him. "Your fire, you mean?"

"Yes, my fire." The flames in his eyes shuttered and he took a step away.

They strolled on.

It was impossible to miss the way passersby looked at Eris. Hunger. Longing.

It reminded Azriel that nightfall was rapidly approaching, only two hours away. The notion saddened him.

"How does tonight work. For you?" questioned Azriel, although he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

Eris smirked in amusement at him, "When two people are attracted to one another, Azriel, they do something called-"

"You ass," he growled, cutting Eris off, "What's the ritual? I know Calanmai has a cave, Summer a beach cove, Winter... I don't know- a glacier? What's the landmark of choice for Autumn."

"A tree."

"A tree?"

"Yes. A tree. Don't give me that look, I didn't pick it. There's a large oak tree at the center of Autumn, I'm told it's been there since the court's creation. It's said to be the center, the beating heart, of all magic here. A load of nonsense but it's tradition at this point. I've seen it a few times. It's this massive thing, so large that a hundred people wouldn't be enough to line its entire perimeter. According to my father, it's hollow inside. I'm not sure how that works out. There's ancient wards around the oak that only allow the High Lord to approach or winnow inside the tree. And that- that is where the magic happens." Literally and figuratively.

"A magic sex tree?" Azriel said crudely.

"It's no worse than a magic sex cave. Certainly better than a glacier. Or snow bank. We should really find out what it is in Winter."

"Well I feel bad for whatever poor female gets chosen for you tonight. She has your company and a floor of dirt to look forward to." Bitterness laced Azriel's words and he hoped it sounded like contempt for the High Lord.

"Don't sound too jealous now, Azriel." The fire was back raging in the High Lord's eyes, "After all, no one said it had to be a female."

Azriel couldn't help it as his attention dropped down to Eris's full lips at the words. Dropped to look at the High Lord's muscled body hidden beneath his clothing. Azriel wondered what his skin tasted like, if it was sweet and woodsy like the cinnamon and sandalwood that wafted on his scent.

"Unfortunately," Azriel choked out, "I will not be here to see the lucky chosen person. Female or male."

"What?" Eris sounded frantic.

"I'm not staying. Mor and I are leaving before nightfall. Nesta and Cassian are the only ones remaining."

Eris stared at him, eyes wide, searching Azriel's face. "Are you serious? You're leaving? Why did you come?"

"You invited us. Mor was adamant on coming and I didn't want her to come alone, Nesta and Cassian aren't much for company." It was a lie, one that Azriel spouted again.

"Then where is your precious Morrigan?" Eris made a show of looking around them.

"I'm here if she needs me."

"You really came here only for her?" Devastation etched across Eris's face. Azriel refused to read into the expression but his shadows were jumping around him, slithering out as if they wanted to wipe that look off the High Lord's face.

"Why do you care anyway? What's it to you if I stay and find some stranger to fuck in the woods and add a little magic to your Great Rite. It doesn't interest me." The words were a barrier to hide the war raging inside Azriel; to hide the feelings ripping away inside of him desperate to get out.

Eris looked away from him and stared up into the vibrant canopy of leaves above them. The setting sun shone down through the branches, making his fair skin glow. He seemed to be counting every leaf on the oak that towered over them. As Eris got lost in the scenery above them, Azriel took a moment to map out every detail of his face.

Eventually Eris said, voice controlled, "You're right, I don't care. I'll be preoccupied with someone else anyway."

Eris glared at him, staring deep into his soul, as if he could see the animal that went wild inside of Azriel at his words.

They walked for an hour longer, finally approaching the south entrance again. Their conversation was noticeably more stilted.

The disgust from the fried frogs had abated but Azriel found he was no longer hungry for an entirely different reason.

The sun was cresting the horizon. Soon it would set completely and the Great Rite would begin. He could feel the magic thrumming in the air, ready to break free from the confines restricting it.

He looked at Eris next to him. The High Lord looked agitated, twitchy. The magic must be beating away at him as the Rite's beginning drew nearer.

Now that he had his gaze on him, Azriel couldn't look away. There was a magnet inside of him drawing him closer as if its match was inside the High Lord. He understood now why people went mad during Great Rites, this heady sensation made him want to disregard all expectations and let loose. Azriel wanted to lean in and taste the sweat beading up on Eris's skin.

Unknowingly, Azriel had taken a few steps closer to Eris who darted his attention over to him. He wanted to keep those amber eyes on him- didn't want anyone else to come in between them. He wanted to feel Eris's burning palms running along the skin under his jacket. Wanted to feel those lips against his neck, sucking marks for everyone to see.

Azriel needed him. He couldn't let anyone else have him- not tonight.

He was going to tell him as such, "I-"

"Azriel!"

The call from Mor broke through the haze Azriel was lost in.

"What? Azriel, what?" Eris grabbed him by his jacket bringing his attention towards the High Lord again.

Azriel wanted to step into the fire inside of Eris's eyes and burn.

"Azriel" Mor's hand clamped down on his shoulder as she said his name a second time.

He turned to look at her.

"It's nearly nightfall, we should go. I'm feeling pretty drained, do you think you can winnow both of us back? I don't think I can make it the entire way?" she looked up at him expectantly.

He needed to go. He couldn't leave her here alone. He looked back at Eris.

The High Lord looked like he was seconds from dropping to his knees to beg Azriel to stay. The hand holding his jacket twisted tighter.

"What were you going to say, Azriel?" Eris sounded manic.

"I need to go, Eris"

"Yes. Okay." He looked crestfallen. His hand still gripped Azriel's jacket.

"You need to let go."

The High Lord actually shook his head no in response to that.

"Of the jacket. You need to let go of my jacket." Azriel felt like his heart was ripping out of his chest. Desire was swallowing him whole.

He at last dropped his hand away.

Azriel spun on his heels, grabbed Mor, and winnowed away without glancing back.

.…........................

Azriel bid Mor goodnight in the dimly lit foyer of the River House and dazedly made his way up to his room on the second floor of the home. Dropping onto the foot of his bed, he propped his elbows on his knees, stuffed the heels of his hands into his eyes and pressed so hard that a constellation of lights popped into his vision.

He needed to get up. He needed to fly. He needed to lay down. He needed to get drunk. He needed to go to sleep. He needed to scream until there was nothing left in him. He needed to curl up and cry.

There was an animal inside of him clawing to get out, ripping at his chest so hard he swore he could feel it tearing underneath his ribs.

What was wrong with him?

After a few minutes there was a knock on his door and Azriel jolted up from the hunched position he'd been in.

Peering in through the cracked doorway was Mor. When she met his gaze, she gently swung the door open the rest of the way. It was silent for a moment as she looked over him as he remained sitting on the foot of the bed.

"You should go back", Mor whispered delicately into the depth of the room.

Azriel's brows furrowed. He just stared at her, tried to read her expression. There was nothing but quiet contemplation on her beautiful face.

"You should go back", she repeated, simply. Mor's assessing gaze tore into him. He could feel the truth she wielded cutting through him as they looked at one another.

Azriel said nothing. Couldn't choke out the words and only shook his head.

Mor at last entered the room fully and crossed over to where he remained sitting.

She gently grasped his face between both of her hands and angled him up to look at her. Her fingers were delicate and soft against his skin as her thumbs stroked short arcs soothingly against his cheeks. There was a time that he would've killed for a touch like this from her.

Now all Azriel could think about is what the same touch would feel like under wider, stronger, warmer palms. If there were fiery amber eyes looking back at him instead of warm brown ones.

His eyes pricked at the thought and he attempted to duck out of Mor's grip, cowering at the weight of everything he felt.

"You're the one who asked me to leave with you. Why should I go back," he asked her, staring at the tile underneath her shoes.

"I wanted you to have a few moments alone, away from the Rite's magic so you could clear your head and think without it influencing you."

His shook his head again, "I don't want to go back."

"Yes you do. You know you do."

"I don't want to want to go back." He looked back up at her.

"You don't need to be afraid of it anymore, Azriel. We love you, every part of you. No matter what you choose." This was the Morrigan of Truth who spoke to him now. The fae who saw every facet of the world around her with uncharacteristic clarity.

She didn't elaborate before heading back out of Azriel's room and down the hall. She left his door open.

Azriel sat there. He counted to a hundred before standing up and hurtling out the door and down the stairs. He rushed out into the front courtyard, made his way to the ward boundaries and winnowed away in a swirl of shadows.

.…........................

The hum of a crowd didn't meet him this time as his feet touched down in the Autumn court for the second time that day. The buzzing of insects and the rustling of wind blowing through leaves were the only sounds that kept him company.

He didn't recognize the land where his pesky shadows deposited him. He intended to go back to the same spot he originally left.

He felt, more than he heard, someone winnow into existence behind him.

Azriel drew his blade and spun around, expecting to find an attacker awaiting him.

It was Eris.

His hand holding the knife went limp and dropped down in shock.

"How did you find me so quickly?" he asked.

"I could find you anywhere you go, Azriel."

His name was butter in the High Lord's mouth. He wanted to grab Eris and taste the tongue that said his name like that.

"You came back." Eris's pupils were blown wide as he looked Azriel up and down. He'd become a creature of the Rite, the power making him more monster than male.

Azriel's blood rushed in his ears in response.

"I did."

"Why?"

"Why do you think?"

"I need to hear you say it." The male clawed back control to ask that question. To hear Azriel give his consent.

Azriel let him stew in silence, driving Eris mad. He was nervous to let the words out of his mouth.

Growing impatient, Eris said, "Azriel."

"I want you... Eris. I want this. I want you."

With a groan at his words, Eris rushed to Azriel and slammed his lips into his.

The first press of Eris's lips against his own was like a lightning strike. It made Azriel's skin burst to life with the power of it.

Azriel slid his hands into the silky red strands of the male and held him close. He angled the male's head to the side to deepen the glide of their lips along one another.

Eris's hands, which had gripped his waist, moved down underneath Azriel's jacket to brush along the skin of his lower back. His hands burned a path along Azriel's skin, just how he imagined they would. At the sensation, Azriel let out a small groan.

Eris used the opportunity to slide his tongue into Azriel's mouth. His tongue stroked along Azriel's own, sending a shiver of desire down his spine.

The taste of Eris was better than he ever expected; it made him feel high. He barely drew a breath, not wanting to part from Eris's mouth for more than a second. His taste was more gratifying than air.

Azriel pressed his front into Eris until they were fully flush, his hardness pressing into the other male's own.

"Azriel, fuck," Eris backed away for a moment to murmur on his lips. "I need- I need-," he didn't finish that thought before leaning in to give more sucking kisses to Azriel's bottom lip.

A broken groan escaped Azriel as the High Lord bit down on his lower lip, his cock growing harder in his pants.

Eris pulled off him again and grabbed Azriel's face between his hands to keep him still. That didn't stop Azriel from chasing his lips for more.

"Have you been with a male before?" Eris asked him.

"I'm 545 years old, Eris, of course I've fucked males."

Eris growled at the statement, eyes blazing. He grabbed Azriel's ass and dragged him back in for a few moments.

Panting to catch his breath, Eris said, "That's not what I mean." He squeezed his ass for emphasis.

Oh.

No, he hadn't. Not that it didn't appeal to him but he could never give someone control of him like that. But looking at Eris, into the face of the male he'd grown to know so well the past year, Azriel didn't feel the same trepidation that tended to hold him back. Azriel realized that he actually trusted Eris. He wondered when that happened.

"I want to." With you, only with you. He hoped his eyes conveyed the truth he wouldn't speak.

Eris leaned in and gave Azriel a gentle kiss before winnowing them away.

They reappeared inside the hollow of a massive tree. It must've been the oak Eris spoke about before.

It smelled mossy and the air was damp inside the trunk. As Azriel predicated, only dirt lined the floor.

Eris conjured a couple faelights that rose above them and sent a gentle glow cascading down upon the pair.

There was a beat thrumming in the air. It pounded so loud through Azriel that he felt his heart skip to match its beat. The sound made his head swim with a heady sensation.

He saw Eris in front of him similarly affected.

His gaze dropped to see tenting at the front of Eris's pants. His wings twitched with the arousal that flooded him in response. He needed him. Now.

Always knowing what was on Azriel's mind, Eris hooked a finger through one of Azriel's belt loops and dragged him back toward him.

Instead of his mouth, this time Eris ran his lips down Azriel's throat. They were delicate kisses that sent goosebumps over Azriel's arm. The male seemed to be savoring the pounding of Azriel's pulse beneath him. When he reached the soft hollow between his neck and shoulder, Eris sucked hard.

Azriel's knees buckled beneath him. Only Eris's strong arms supporting him kept Azriel up as the High Lord laid claim to the sensitive spot.

Azriel shoved at the coat draped around Eris's shoulders. The maroon garment thudded to the dirt floor with success.

Once that was gone, Azriel slid his hands under Eris's silk white shirt and traced along his back and chest. Though Eris was leaner than him, shapely muscle lay underneath his clothes. He had been general of Autumn for close to five centuries, the training required for that now showed in the strong chest and abdomen that Azriel's fingers ghosted down.

Eris moved on to sucking a matching mark on the other side of his neck. Azriel's head fell to the side as he let out a low, deep whine at the sensation.

"You taste so good," the High Lord whispered into his skin.

Azriel rolled his hips against Eris's in a desperate search for friction. Eris snapped his fingers and the entirety of both the males' clothes disappeared.

A wobbling sound left his mouth as he took in the sight of the naked male against him. Eris's muscled, pale chest and long lean legs made his mouth water. He wanted to taste every inch of him. He pushed Eris to the ground and did just that.

Azriel nipped and sucked down the male's chest, leaving marks and savoring the taste of his skin. He paused when he reached Eris's cock. Where Azriel was long, Eris was thick.

He bent down aiming to take him in his mouth when he was stopped.

"No." Eris's chest was heaving. "I can't- don't want to finish yet. If you take me in your mouth, this'll be over far too quick."

Azriel smirked, leaning down to lick a long stripe up the underside of him anyway before leaning back on his knees.

Eris followed him up and pushed him down onto his back. The male settled between Azriel's legs and looked down at him.

"Is this okay for your wings?"

Azriel never let his wings get trapped like this. In his centuries of taking lovers, would only ever be on top. But the sight of Eris above him made his cock twitch and blood heat, and Azriel knew it was alright.

"It's fine."

Spurred on by his confirmation, Eris bent down and took Azriel in his mouth without preamble.

Azriel shouted a groan at the warm sensation of Eris's mouth around him. He worked Azriel slowly, tongue dragging along him. Eris was looking at him, watching his every reaction with blazing eyes.

After a minute, Azriel started to feel a tightening in his lower stomach. He was already so close.

Just then, Eris's hand that rested on his thigh, slid over to press into the area beneath Azriel's balls. Questioning eyes looked to him and Azriel nodded his approval.

A bottle of oil appeared out of thin air into Eris's other hand and Azriel felt a zap of cleaning magic rush through him. Convenient.

Eris pulled away to pour oil onto the fingers of his right hand. After slicking them up, Eris grabbed one of Azriel's thighs and pushed it up out of the way. He then ducked down and took Azriel in his mouth again while gently pressing the tip of his pointer finger against Azriel's hole.

The Illyrian let out a choppy moan and the High Lord slowly pressed his entire, long finger into him. It was a weird sensation. Neither pleasant or unpleasant, just new. Eris's mouth continued to move up and down him, keeping the pleasure stable. After a few seconds Eris moved the finger within him, steadily withdrawing and pushing back in.

Azriel relaxed around the finger after a few moments and felt Eris's middle finger push in to join it. He hissed at the slight burning sensation that went with it. The High Lord shot him an apologetic look.

Both fingers pressed in all the way together and repeated the same cycle of moving slowly to loosen Azriel up. The only noises were the sounds of Eris's mouth on his cock, the slide of the fingers inside him, and the gentle moans coming from his mouth. As Azriel once again relaxed around the fingers, Eris pulled off him.

He gave Azriel a wicked smirk before curling his fingers up and brushing along a spot that he hadn't yet touched. Azriel's legs spasmed at the jolt of pleasure that shot through him.

"Gods, what was that." he moaned out.

"You must not have been pleasuring those male's very well if you don't know what that is, Azriel."

Eris started thrusting his two fingers harder inside of him, keeping steady pressure on the spot.

Azriel threw his head back, moaning loudly.

Eris pushed a third slicked finger in. The burning only heightened his pleasure this time.

Azriel drew his second leg up as Eris rammed his three fingers into him, no longer taking Azriel in his mouth. He didn't need it. The High Lord's fingers alone felt amazing.

Azriel's hole eased around the three fingers and was taking a fourth appendage in no time. He felt stretched so wide. The amount of fingers Eris had stuffed into him allowed him to brush roughly against that spot every time. Knees drawn up, Azriel's eyes rolled back into his head as he laid there getting fingered by the High Lord. His hands clenched at the ground above his head.

The drums of the Great Rite thrummed around them. The sound clanged in Azriel's ears. The closer he got to finishing, the louder they grew. They reached a deafening crescendo before Eris's movements came to a stop inside of him.

Azriel groaned out in protest. He was about to cum from Eris's fingers alone. His hips thrusted uselessly as he tried to get him moving again

Eris leaned down and sucked Azriel's lips into a kiss. "You're not cumming until you're on my cock, you big bat." He slipped his fingers out of Azriel.

Eris sat back and started slicking his cock up with oil.

"I want you to start off riding me," he said, "that way I know you're in control in the start. The magic is getting to me, I don't know how much longer I can keep it contained and I don't want to hurt you."

The sentiment thrummed in Azriel's chest.

He swung a leg over the male and settled up against his chest. Eris was sat up, a hand on the ground behind him to prop himself. The other was still stroking his cock.

Since the males were the same height standing, Azriel rose over him a bit while sitting in his lap. He leaned forward, unable to resist the temptation of kissing Eris.

When he pulled back, Eris was giving him a look that knocked the wind out of him. There was a well of desire and admiration in his eyes. No one had ever looked at Azriel with such raw longing before.

He felt Eris line himself up behind him. The head pressed against him and Azriel rocked his hips back slightly. He had to press hard to get the tip to pop in and when he did, he released a long whine at the burn.

Azriel gripped the High Lord's shoulders tightly. His features twisted at the discomfort and he stayed motionless for a while. With one hand still holding himself, Eris raised the other to rub along Azriel's lower back.

Eris tilted his chin up and recaptured Azriel's lips. It proved a welcome distraction and shortly Azriel was rocking his hips again, taking more of Eris's cock in him.

The hand Eris had on his lower back was gently pushing him down on every rock, increasing the pace at which Azriel took him. It was the only sign of desperation from the High Lord.

Once Eris was far enough inside him that he didn't need to guide his cock in anymore, his hand reached around Azriel's front to press a thumb against the skin between Azriel's balls and hole.

The jolt that shot through Azriel was similar to the one from the spot inside him. With a renewed desired, Azriel pushed down into the press of Eris's thumb. As his hips chased the pleasure of the pressure, Azriel was surprised to find himself meet the jut of Eris's hips below him. He had taken him to the hilt.

He leaned into Eris's neck and moaned loudly at the feeling of the male's cock fully enclosed within him.

"Fuck. So good Azriel. You're so good."

Azriel was stretched so wide on the base of Eris's thick cock. He felt the tip deep within his stomach.

In that moment, Azriel was completely owned by the High Lord.

He raised his hips up a few inches and dropped back down. Eris let out a rasping groan and tightened his arms around Azriel.

Azriel's shadows wrapped around the pair as he began to ride Eris in earnest. Eris's cock scrapped deliciously along that spot inside of him and Azriel rode him hard, addicted to the feeling.

His full, leaking cock bounced forgotten beneath their stomachs.

"You're riding me so good, Azriel. You feel fucking amazing." Eris groaned into his ear.

The praise made Azriel's skin flush. He wanted to erase every fae from Eris's memory. Make him forget anyone that wasn't him.

He bounced mindlessly on Eris's length. Content to stay like that, wringing the helpless moans from the male's mouth.

But the pressure on his thighs grew to be too much and Azriel still needed it harder. He couldn't ride Eris's cock hard or fast enough to get what he wanted.

"Eris," he moaned deeply. "More. I want more."

"Gods, Azriel. Anything. I'll give you anything you want."

"Fuck me, please."

Without pulling out, Eris flipped him onto his back, showing care for his wings. He hooked both of Azriel's legs over his arms and placed his hands onto the dirt floor in the gap between Azriel's waist and wings. He then started pounding so hard into Azriel that the Illyrian saw stars.

The feeling of the full length of Eris's thick cock pistoning in and out him rendered Azriel speechless. All he could do was grip Eris's back and moan into the air in the hollow of the tree.

The beat of the Great Rite's drums resumed, matching the rhythm at which Eris fucked in to him. The slap of their pelvises reverberated in the enclosed space.

Eris dropped his legs and lowered himself on to his forearms by Azriel's head. The shallower angle made him grind furiously against that spot along Azriel's walls. Eris nipped at his lower lip, panting into his mouth.

"You're so gods damn perfect Azriel."

Azriel moaned at the words.

The drums raced around them.

"So. fucking. beautiful." Each word from Eris was interrupted by a brutally deep thrust.

"I wish I could fuck you all night but I'm so close," the High Lord continued on.

Azriel nodded in agreement, wrapping his legs tight around Eris's hips. He didn't want the male pulling too far away from him, not now. He hole was squeezing sporadically around Eris's length.

"I-" Azriel couldn't get anything out, too busy moaning.

The drumming was reaching a crescendo again. It rocked against Azriel's skin.

"What is it." Eris brushed kisses along Azriel's jaw as he fucked him.

The beat around them was deafening.

"I feel so good, Eris-" Azriel groaned out the male's name.

It must've been from witnessing the delirium of Azriel's pleasure that he caused but at his words, Eris shouted out a long surprised groan. Azriel felt the male's cock twitching inside of him and his thrusts stuttered to quick, deep jabs. Heat bloomed within Azriel's stomach from the High Lord cumming.

At the sensation of the pulsing warmth of Eris's cum inside him, Azriel felt his own cock start to shoot. He grabbed himself moaning as his strokes heightened his finish.

As Azriel plummeted down into his orgasm, the drums of the Rite's magic pulsed through him. The beat matching the rhythm of his heart hammering inside him. Azriel's legs tightened around Eris as they both rose and fell through the waves of their pleasure, creating their own rhythm that sang with the magic of the night.

Fingers still dug tightly into the pale muscled back above him, Azriel's release came to an end. His legs dropped and relaxed to the ground as all his strength flooded away. He felt Eris's cock give one final kick inside him before he too finished and relaxed fully down onto Azriel's front.

The thrum of the magic in the air came to a stop, the sounds of the woods rushing in to fill the silence left by the drum's departure.

They laid there, Azriel wasn't sure how long, catching their breath. He closed his eyes, laid his head back, and enjoyed the warmth of Eris pressed against him.

The pressure on his wings soon became too much and he shifted, pushing slightly at Eris's hips.

With a groan, the male on top of him pushed up onto him arms, staring down between them as he pulled out. Azriel hissed at the sensation.

"M'sorry," Eris murmured, rubbing a hand down Azriel's thigh soothingly.

Eris Vanserra was rubbing his thigh.

Hundreds of fae showed up tonight with the hopes they'd be the lucky ones selected to sleep with the High Lord. And here Azriel was, in the middle of some historic magical tree, spend dripping out of him, getting his thigh rubbed by Cauldron-damned Eris Vanserra.

It was completely fucking surreal.

Azriel giggled. He didn't think he'd ever giggled in his life.

He felt drunk on the atmosphere. Maybe this was an after-effect of the magic's let-down; after the high of Rite abated you were left feeling delirious.

Eris took one look at him and started laughing too. They were definitely delirious.

Leaning his weight forward into his forearms again, Eris rested his forehead against Azriel's collarbone as laughter kept rocking his frame. Azriel buried his face in the silky red hair below him, chuckling into it.

With deep breaths, they both collected themselves.

Eris rose up onto his knees and glanced down between Azriel's legs.

"Fuck," Eris groaned, throwing his head back," You need to close your legs or I'm going to be ready for round two in a few seconds."

Azriel burst into laughter again, kicking Eris away from him.

"Gods," Eris moaned as he clambered to his feet. He reached a hand out for Azriel who took it and forced Eris to do most of the work pulling him up.

Azriel wrapped his arms around Eris's hips, the other male grabbing his bicep and throwing his second arm around Azriel's neck.

Silence weighed down on them as they stood facing each other. Eris's thumb left a path of heat in the arcs it swiped along Azriel's bicep. His other hand played in the short cropped hair at the base of Azriel's head.

With the high of the night seeping from his system and Eris's hands tracing warm paths along his skin, Azriel felt his eyes start to droop.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" Eris whispered, lips only mere inches away from Azriel's own. Anything louder would've felt like a shout in the calm atmosphere around them.

Azriel nodded in assent, he wasn't sure any words would make it out of him.

He leaned forward capturing Eris's lips in a delicate kiss. They stayed like that, mouths moving slowly together, until Eris pulled again with one last nip to Azriel's lower lip.

"C'mon," he murmured, backing away from Azriel. With a snap of his fingers, Eris magicked both of their clothes back on.

Azriel walked up to press into Eris's front again and raised his hands to straighten the male's cloak which skewed haphazardly on his shoulders.

"Magic is not a precise science," Eris justified.

Mustering up the energy to speak, he replied, "You're such an ass."

Cackling, Eris winnowed them away in a crack of flames and light.

...........................................

The large rustic living room of Eris's manor was blessedly cool.

Warmth prickled along Azriel's skin, it felt like the sun was beaming down on him. He'd lived most of his life at a temperature that matched the night-time air on a crisp autumn night. This was a welcome change but an odd adjustment.

Azriel had a feeling the fire lord with him had something to do with it.

His eyes traced the wooden beams that led to the top of the room's vaulted ceilings as Eris moved around the kitchen in the distance.

Shuffling alerted Azriel to his entrance back into the living room.

He eagerly accepted the tall glass of water Eris handed to him and chugged it in one go, spilling a good portion of it down his chin.

"Brute"

Azriel glared at him through the glass.

"Didn't stop you from fucking me."

Eris's eyes darkened at the words, the right side of his face was lit up from the moonlight pouring in through the sizable windows that framed the woods outside. The High Lord only shrugged, grinning wildly.

His own grin grew in response. This was probably the most he'd smiled in one day. There was an ache in his cheeks from his overuse of the action; mindlessly he rubbed at the sore spots.

"Get used to it," Eris said.

Azriel didn't know if he meant the fucking or the smiling. Both would be fine, he figured.

They stumbled upstairs, giggling like a pair of drunk younglings every time Azriel's wings caught on the stairs. He was usually much better about keeping them raised but his body felt like it'd been sitting in the birchin for an hour- every muscle loose and tired.

Eris's bedroom was large and its foundation was laid by the same rich, dark wood that Azriel had loved in the kitchen. On the opposite side of the bedroom's entryway was a wall of windows and a glass door that led out to a partially enclosed terrace.

In the moonlight, Azriel vaguely deciphered a few plush couches and ottomans clustered together out there. They were enclosed by concrete columns that lined the terrace's perimeter. Enough space was between each column that, if Azriel wished, he could climb the railing and sail out over the autumnal canopy on his wings.

"You look like you're plotting your escape." Eris's sharp gaze tracked Azriel's own. He'd always been able to read him like book much to Azriel's chagrin.

"A good fighter always has an exit strategy."

A flash of sadness crossed Eris's expression at his words. There- and then gone- before Azriel could truly register it.

Reality began crashing in around him, settling a heavy weight on his chest.

To distract himself, he stepped onwards into the room and continued his assessment of the space. To the right was a massive fireplace framed by a large picture window on either side. Azriel saw the glow of faelights at the Forest House in the distance. There were two leather armchairs placed in front of the fireplace.

The left of the room held a palatial bed, wide enough to comfortably fit two winged fae if desired.

It was a wonderful space. If Azriel had ever desired to design his own, it likely would've looked a lot like this. It was nothing akin to Feyre and Rhy's palatial, overly ornate estate, or the soulless sandstone interiors of the House of Wind. Eris's room- his house- was warm and inviting, it beckoned Azriel in like a moth to a flame.

Eris, having followed Azriel into the room, continued on, "There are stairs up to the roof... if you wanted to know other escape options. It'd probably be easier to take off and land there."

Azriel turned to face the male behind him and asked, "Why do you have stairs to your roof?" Odd indeed for a male who could never and would ever be able to fly himself.

"Why not?" Eris wouldn't meet his eyes then.

But Azriel knew. Deep down he knew, had always known.

The roof. The two armchairs in front of the fire place. The dining chairs carved for wings. The male's burning gaze that was able to melt away centuries of ice that coated the outside of Azriel's soul.

He knew what it all meant, used to be terrified of it. Yesterday afternoon he feared it so much he could hardly breath.

He wasn't scared anymore.

And Eris knew too. Had likely known far longer than Azriel- he was always so clever.

Eris had probably figured it out forever ago and let it rot away inside of him. Trapped in his mind, tormenting him like the scars from his father that would never mar his skin.

"Centuries, Azriel," Eris muttered. It was as if the fire-blooded male in front of him, who still would not look at Azriel, could read every thought that ran through his mind. Could he?

Silence settled around them. Eris's attention focused on the dew fogged window next to them. He looked fixedly at the Forest House lights gleaming in the distance.

"I've wanted you- this- for centuries," Eris ground out. The truth, at last.

"I have known for centuries." Each word out of Eris's mouth sounded pained.

Azriel walked up to the male, reached out a scarred hand to gently grab his chin and turned his face towards him.

He traced every inch of Eris's face with his thumb. The strong jaw that framed everything. The sharp cut of the cupid's bow on his full lips. The long, straight bridge of his nose. The flushed cheeks that burned under Azriel's touch. The constellation of freckles that dotted his porcelain skin. The permanent crease between his brows, the only sign of mortality on his beautiful, immortal face.

He looked nothing like Azriel but looking upon him was like gazing into a mirror.

"All this time? Everything?" Azriel whispered. He couldn't find it in himself to elaborate, desperately hoped that Eris would once again understand what he meant.

"Everything. Always. It was always you." Eris's brows cut together, a look of sorrow and desperation overtaking the face under Azriel's thumb.

A small whimper escaped Azriel's lips but he clamped down on it.

The small sound must've been enough for Eris because it seemed a dam broke inside of him with the way his next words poured out.

"From the first moment I saw you at Hewn City, I knew Azriel. I could feel it so deep in my bones that it ached. But the engagement to Mor had already been finalized and I had no clue what to do. I knew you loved her, saw how you looked at her. I felt sick. My mate-"

Another whimper broke from Azriel's lips at the word. Eris spoke it with such finality and confidence.

At its utterance, a key clicked into place deep inside Azriel's chest and opened a truth that he had known all along.

"My mate," Eris continued "was in love with the female I was set to marry. Quickly, I grew to realize Mor's desperation for freedom, the truth about herself she kept hidden away. I couldn't help her. Azriel, you have to believe me. I tried. But, I had so little power to fix the situation. Leaving her there- in the woods, leaving her to her freedom, it was the best I could do. I thought she would understand. I thought you would underst-" Eris's voice cracked on the last word and he ducked his head down out of Azriel's hands to hide it from view.

Composing himself with a deep breath, Eris raised his head and continued on.

"I never imagined my actions would lead to you hating me for centuries. I thought I'd have a chance to explain. I thought you- Mor- Rhysand- anybody- I thought somebody would understand that if I helped her, she would have become a ward of my court. Trapped there. Keir knew; that's why he left her in my woods. Eventually I realized it was for the better- you hating me. I was a fool for ever thinking otherwise. I still had no power against my father and if he ever suspected, ever got a whiff, of what you were to me, he would have tried to kill you. He most certainly would have killed me. And it all would have been for nothing. I knew I did the right thing after he executed Jesminda. She was harmless, so innocent, a member of his own court, and he still killed her for the crime of being a lesser fae in love with my brother. It was then that I decided to never do anything but make you hate me. I wanted you as far away from me as possible. I could handle the torture my father inflicted upon me but the one thing I'd never be able to bare was him hurting you. Not you. Never you."

Eris's voice shook as silent tears cut across his cheeks. Azriel wondered how he could still be so beautiful while he cried.

"You were this precious thing that the Mother had blessed me with and the only thing that mattered to me was keeping you safe. And the only way I could do that was by keeping you far away from me and the reaches of Beron. Then everything with Amarantha happened. Forty-nine years under there and Azriel, you were the only thing that got me through it. Knowing you were safe, wherever you were, and that you were out there. I made a vow to myself that if I lived through the ordeal, if I ever managed to be free, I'd fix my wrongs. I didn't want to die knowing you still hated me. I wanted to see you, at least once, look upon me with something other than loathing. But then I got addicted to it- addicted to you not hating me anymore. Addicted to being with you, speaking to you, learning about you, playing gods damned chess with you. I crave it more than I crave my next breath. Five hundred years of torment and the past year has made every second worth it. I would do it all again. I would suffer another five centuries of you loving another, another five centuries of facing my father's cruelty, another five centuries of being hated by all of Prythian just for this- just for you."

Azriel's vision blurred from the tears flooding in his eyes, mind whirring as he tried to process the weight of Eris's confessions. No words came to him. Instead, he leaned forward into Eris's shoulder and sobbed. He sobbed and sobbed, releasing centuries worth of sadness and pain and loneliness that had built up inside him. He found a comfort in the crook of Eris's neck that he'd felt never anywhere else before.

It was as if his soul knew he'd met his mate all those years ago in the depths of Hewn City and had been decaying inside him ever since, growing sick at the distance that separated it from its other half. As Azriel leaned into the warmth of Eris, he felt a small part of his frozen, sad soul started to heal.

Eris said nothing, stroking a thumb across the back of Azriel's neck. He leaned more heavily into the sturdy support of Eris's body with each soothing swipe.

"Let's go to bed," Eris whispered into his ear once the sobs stopped racking Azriel's body and his choppy breathing evened out.

There'd be more time to talk tomorrow. The darkness of the night felt too fragile for the words they would need to share, the decisions that needed to be made.

Eris turned his head and gently brushed his lips across Azriel's. They fell in to one another, deepening the kiss before pulling away to catch their breath.

Eris ran the hand that was on the back of his neck down his arm, fingers ghosting across the sleeve of the dark green jacket Azriel wore. At the cuff, he danced along the black sewn embellishments before finally trailing down to tangle his fingers with Azriel's.

Wordlessly, he pulled him towards the bed.

When they got to the foot of it, Eris raised his hands up and began unclasping the silver buttons that held Azriel's jacket closed. He then reached around his back and unbuttoned the ones that ran from the bottom hem to the base of his wings.

"I really do like this jacket on you," Eris whispered into the depth of the silence.

"I knew you would," Azriel murmured back.

He said nothing about the disbelief that twinkled in Eris's eyes. He knew Azriel too well.

Kicking off his shoes and shucking down the tight black trousers he wore, Azriel rounded the bed to the right side closest to the wall of windows. Behind him, he heard Eris also undressing.

Azriel lifted back the heavy duvet and stretched out on his stomach, hoping to give his wings some reprieve from the pressure they'd endured that night. The cool cotton sheets tempered the burning he felt inside of him.

Eris climbed in next to him and laid on his back.

Turning to face the High Lord, his High Lord, he reached out a hand to grasp the wrist that lay closest to him and stroked the delicate skin there.

At the contact, Eris slid over underneath Azriel's outstretched wing, moving closer to him as their gaze locked.

Fire blazed deep inside his amber eyes. It felt like an old friend; one that had scarred him long ago but would never again.

They probably should've bathed, should've eaten something, should've talked more. But the smell of sandalwood and cinnamon flooded Azriel's senses, seeping the energy from his body. All he could do was watch the fire dance in the eyes next to him and think about how Eris smelled like a long-lost nostalgia that he'd finally found.

For the first time, sleep welcomed Azriel with open arms and he felt at peace.

#azris #azris fanfiction #azriel x eris #azriel x eris fanfiction #eris vanserra #azriel #azriel acotar #azris supremacy #acotar #acotar fanfic #azriel fanfic #eris fanfic #my old friend fire

[brisquad-unit-4402]

christmas cookies

it's christmas now in my timezone. so happy holidays from unit 4402, and a lovely winter ahead. please stay warm comfy and loved wherever you are. this was inspired by a george strait song of the same name sans vox. he is one of the few country artists i trust. please be kind to him and enjoy my guilty pleasure corny christmas music fave

(btw i've always wanted vox to do a karaoke and sing at least one george strait song i just know he'd eat it up. tbh christmas cookies is the song i associate with vox the most even more than new cydonia. you have to understand how important the imagery of vox singing this song is to me i can't describe it in words nor fanfic)

tags: gender neutral reader, established relationship, fluff, food descriptions

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A comfy night in while the air turns icy outside. Your home runs warm, especially as you pass by the oven, and when you lean over Vox's wing-and-shoulder to watch him mix some icing together.

"Pass me the powdered sugar, Reader?"

"Sure thing."

"Thank you, baby."

Before you can utter any sweet nothings back to him the oven interrupts you as the timer goes off. You slip on one of Vox's mitts (a ruby red with a paw-print pattern and a scorch mark on the side, what were you expecting) and open the oven door.

The sweet smell of freshly baked cookies pours out from the oven, and as you set them on the cooling rack the scent grows only more enticing. Vox insisted on making cookies from scratch this year rather than from a box, and you have to admit, you don't even need to sneak a bite to admit he was right. The scent and golden-brown color is already miles ahead of the batches you made alone in the past.

The heat spreads behind you, trademark Vox and his demonic blood. Your suspicions are confirmed once he peers over your shoulder just as you did, and swipes an oven-hot cookie from the rack.

"What the—Vox!" You lightly slap his hand. "Those are hot!"

"I was born in Hell," he says, mouth full of cookie. He swallows. "Mmm, tasty."

"They aren't even frosted yet!"

"It's a good goddamn cookie, Reader, what do you want me to do, say they taste like charcoal?"

"No, Vox, I want you to be patient and wait for them to cool and decorate them like a normal person before eating them! We're going to have a full bowl of icing and no cookies to ice if you keep taking them like that!"

He pops another cookie into his mouth much to your playful dismay. "What kind of normal person doesn't eat a cookie straight out of the oven?" Then he takes another, places it on a napkin, and sets it on the counter in front of you. "Would having a cookie yourself make you feel better?"

"Normal people that don't have heat resistance like you." You stare down at the cookie. It has a soft crack through the side from cooling improperly, so of course it would be perfect for a taste test. "But... thanks."

Vox brightens. "Eat up. Er, in ten to fifteen minutes when cooled."

You nod, and watch as Vox shovels cookie dough onto a new pan. You snuck a tiny Santa hat onto one of his horns earlier this evening, and even now the pompom at the end sways as he moves the next batch into the oven.

The oven settings chirp, chirp, chirp until the temperature and timer is set.

"Should be fine to eat your cookie once those are out of the oven," he says. Baking your holiday sweets was an equal effort, but his lips are curved upwards and his wings raise in quiet pride. "I can tell you what it tastes like if you're too impatient to wait."

He's right. You're impatient. So you take Vox's hand to lower him just enough for your mouth to meet his.

You return back down from your tiptoes a second later, sugar on your tongue and sweetness all the way through. "Damn, we did great."

He scoffs but his wings let out a happy little flap. "If you wanted me to kiss you, you could've just asked."

"Well, we have—"your eyes flit to the timer—"Ten minutes until the next batch is done." You squeeze his hand. "Gotta spend the time somehow."

The corners of Vox's lips curve a little higher. He sweeps you up only to seat you on the clean side of the counter, just so you can see that eager, dorky little grin at eye-level, wings around you and arms on either side. "'Tis the season for giving, mm?"

"Cheeky bastard." You close your eyes as if you were irritated, but you're the one that leans in first, and the taste of the cookies spreads through your mouth as the minutes go by.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ masterpost ✧. ┊ kofi

#vox akuma #vox akuma x reader #nijisanji en #nijisanji x reader #luxiem #luxiem x reader #4402 writes #vox akuma fluff #vox akuma headcanons #vox akuma imagines #someone send me an ask i need to rant abt how fucked up it is that my V0x Akum4 brain receptors are the exact same as my George Strait ones

[some-pers0n]

Memoir of an Albatross

Chapter 2 - Blood in the Water

[1] [2] [3]

(Art by Loquatic)

Chapter Description: Albatross, a lonely and ostracized dragonet, finds himself on the Sunset Beach. To entertain himself, he chases a seagull, only to then be interrupted by his two sisters.

[CW: Blood, gore, derealization, verbal abuse, bullying]

Albatross was the type of dragon you wouldn't want to be seen around. He was a dragon that others would make up wild rumours about to explain their natural repulsion to him. The kind of dragon that they would whisper about behind his back, yet put on a face of false kindness to try and hide their disdain. There was something fundamentally different about Albatross. Something that made him undesirable.

He understood this from the moment he hatched. He had vague memories of that day. Distant, fuzzy recollections of the looks given to him by the surrounding dragons. How could there not be some discussion? The newest prince of the SeaWings turning out in such a repugnant way? Why did this happen? Was this the result of some secret affair that the queen had with an IceWing? From his unnaturally pale scales and nearly pitch-black eyes, that wouldn't be such a far-fetched assumption. Maybe a curse had been placed on this egg by a rogue IceWing animus, or perhaps it was some genetic mutation.

Whatever the cause may be, Albatross was not seen as the same in the eyes of many. His sisters, Sapphire and Lagoon, were perfect examples of what a SeaWing should be. Rich, royal blue scales with gorgeous wing patterns. They were naturally gifted with those looks. They were the sorts of dragons that artists in the future would look back on, painting their lavish features and gushing about them and their beauty.

Comparatively? Albatross was a freakshow. His scales were a ghastly grey, looking almost entirely snow-white in certain lighting. His eyes were a deep, dark blue that one could easily mistake for being entirely black. His neck was too long and his wings were too big for his body. His snout was hooked and his teeth seemed far too small, even for his relatively young age. His tail was pointy and whip-like. He smelt vaguely of rotting fish no matter what he tried. Not exactly a great sight for the eyes.

Because of his outward appearance, the others judged him. Something beyond his control or will made him into a circus act for others to gawk at. They look at him and either laugh at his features or worse, pity. Show condescending compassion. Say "I'm so sorry for you" or apologize for something he was hatched with.

He wasn't a tragedy. He didn't want to be remembered as a dragon to pity or be seen as some lost cause. He wanted to be seen for who he was. He would do great things one day. He doesn't want his looks or how others treat him to get in the way of that perception. He wanted to be known as Prince Albatross, a SeaWing who did...something. What that would be was still unclear, but he wanted it to be grand. Important. He wanted to be remembered for years to come for what he did during his life.

For now though? He was alone. Better to be ignored and out of sight from the others than to be acknowledged and seen.

It was peaceful at the Sunset Beach. The Island Palace was a quiet place he liked going to whenever he felt stressed or wanted some time to himself. It was only ever used for visiting diplomats to stay, so it was empty most days. The Sunset Beach was a large stretch of pearl-white sand right next to the beautiful ocean. The waves were foamy and the water was crystal blue. Dotted around were small pavilions covered in decorative lanterns.

Albatross found himself sitting on the sand, just a fair bit away from the waves. He had been digging around in the sand, entertained by playing around with the driftwood and whatever else floated onto the shore. Alone with nothing more than himself and the gentle, yet nevertheless powerful calmness of the ocean.

Until...a seagull came down. From a nearby palm tree. It swooped from on high, landing gracefully onto the shores. It stood there, beak digging around for whatever fish or creature the ocean had spat onto the beach. Albatross watched it intently. He was content with simply seeing it pick the grains and scavenge for remains. Yet, as he did so, he couldn't help but feel a small thought worm its way into him.

Chase it.

He didn't know why he wanted to do it. It simply felt right. He had seen Lagoon and Sapphire do the same with their prey. Albatross could never swim fast enough to catch his own food. Too slow. Too weak. Perhaps now would be his time. He could sneak up on the seagull. Grasp it. Feel it writhe and struggle to break free. Feel the fear course through its body as it tries desperately to live on. Feel some semblance of control and power.

The thought disturbed him though. The other dragons seemed just fine with it. They would tear into sharks, whales; for moon's sake,  his fellow peers would cheer and holler in joy upon seeing a prisoner of war be gutted. Was there something odd about him? Perhaps others simply never talked about that part. Kept it under a rug. It was shameful. Some sort of animalistic desire for violence and bloodshed. For dominance. To be a dragon.

They were civilized. They had palaces and kingdoms. Complicated societies and systems put in place to keep a gentle balance. A semblance that they were above the likes of wolf packs. Albatross wasn't an animal. He was a prince of the SeaWings.

...but maybe, for just a moment, he could live a little.

He dug his claws into the sand and pounced. He dove where the seagull was, only to be met with a cloud of dust and debris. It flew away.

"No, come back!" Albatross yelled, spitting out all the sand in his mouth. "Please?"

Miraculously, the seagull seemed to listen. It turned back to him. Eventually, it landed back on the beach. It was entertaining him.

He smiled back. He was about to fling himself at the seagull once more, when he felt something brush against his claws. It was a clamshell. Big one. One of the halves was as big as his talons. It was a dusty white colour, blending in with the rest of the beach.

He grabbed it. "I'm gonna eat you!" he giggled, pointing the shell at the seagull. He imagined it as though it was a dragon's mouth. That it could open up and snap at the bird just like any other set of razor-sharp fangs.

The two continued their dance. Albatross wanted to get it, but at this point, he had more fun playing around. He would leap towards it, the seagull hopping away right in time, and once both parties recovered they'd go again. It was fun. Simple, extraordinary fun. Much better than boring lessons or whatever else his tutors had in store for him. He didn't want it to end.

But, of course, things had to take a turn for the worse, didn't they?

After a couple minutes, Albatross became aware of something. A shift in the air. It wasn't sudden, but it was certainly different. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was most definitely another being present. Watching him. Judging him.

He looked to the ocean. Under the waves were two pairs of glistening blue eyes, glaring at him.

He felt a drop in his stomach as the two dragons rose out of the water, their laughter an ear-splintering chorus of noise. What was once a peaceful and tranquil afternoon on the beach became a playground for them. His sisters.

"Finally! I thought you'd gone blind or something," Sapphire giggled. "I was wondering when you would look over and see us."

"Really? I was enjoying watching him. I didn't think you were actually capable of running." Lagoon teased.

"Why are you here?" Albatross asked. "I thought you both had queen lessons."

"We finished early. Apparently, something happened with Mother, needing to call over all of her advisors. Thank the moons for that. So boring having to learn how to be a queen and to, well, rule over everyone," Lagoon said, passively looking at her claws.

His sisters weren't exactly the greatest of dragons, especially towards Albatross. They made it clear that they didn't like him. He was their weird brother who came out wrong. Who was a blemish on the otherwise perfect royal family. A pathetic good-for-nothing blob that should've been strangled the moment he crawled out of his egg.

Sapphire, despite being the middle dragonet, bossed around everyone. She was next in line for the throne. Even though that'd be years away from now, she acted as though she was on top of the world. Queen of everything. Most of their antics against him were her ideas, with Lagoon tagging along just because she found it funny.

Of course, right when he was having a bit of fun by himself, they'd have to ruin it all.

"So you came over to annoy me?" he asked.

"Annoy you? Why would you think we would do that?" Sapphire gasped. "No, no, we were very interested in talking with you. Seeing what our precious brother is up to! We were so worried about you. We thought you ran off."

Her words were sickening to hear. That fake sympathy and compassion that made his stomach churn. "I was doing just fine before you got here." He swiped at the sand.

"You don't like us?" Lagoon crooned. "I thought you cared about us. Aren't we your sisters? I mean, we could always treat you worse." They walked up onto the shore. They were far bigger than him, perhaps another head taller. "I don't think you'd like that. You're already so weak."

"I am not weak!" he snapped back.

Sapphire let out a squawk of a laugh. "You couldn't even catch a seagull! You just kept jumping around it. Great reefs, that's sad to see."

Albatross turned around and tried to get away, only to trip and fall. His tail was caught under their talons. His chin hit the sand with a distinct thump.

"Where are you going?" They both said in an eerie harmony. "We just got here!"

"Just leave me alone..." Albatross grabbed at his ears, pulling them down to try and block their words out. But, to no avail.

"What? Can't handle a little light teasing? Moons above, that's so sad." Sapphire walked in front of him, looking him up and down. Her eyes landed on the seashell clutched to his chest.

A wicked grin cracked across her snout as she said, "ooh, what's that you've got there?" Her voice was grating, like claws against metal.

"It's mine!" he yelled back. He tried to sound intimidating, but it came out as a mere squak.

"Give it." Sapphire grabbed at it, tugging the shell.

"No! Please, Sapphire..." He held onto it tighter, pulling it back.

"Why do you care so much about this stupid thing?" she laughed. "Do you really not have anything else to care about."

Albatross tried to speak, but the words never found their footing. He stammered and stuttered, choking back tears. Yet, he kept holding on. He couldn't let them take another thing from him. Even if it was as small as a shell, he wanted something to call his own.

"What, are you going to cry?" Sapphire mocked. "Boo hoo, my mean ol' sister took my stupid shell." She whacked him in the stomach with her tail.

He recoiled, letting go. The pain shot through his system, taking the air from his lungs. He gasped for breath as he looked up to her.

She stood there, absently inspecting the shell. "Stupid shell," she said, "I can't believe you fought so much over it. Besides, it'll be mine anyway. Everything here will be mine. I'm the eldest daughter, right? So, obviously, I'll be queen. And when I'm queen, I own everything. You're just a prince."

She tilted her head to the side, mocking his mannerisms. "But, nobody will care. Nobody loves you. We just have to put up with you and your weird, ugly self."

Albatross dug into the sand. Tears welled in his eyes. "That's...not true." He mumbled.

"What's that?" Lagoon asked. "What did you say? Say it again!" She grabbed him by the neck.

"I said it's not true!"

The both of them cackled like a flock of seagulls. "What?! Of course it is! Who even likes you?" Sapphire flicked her tail at him. "You could die right here and nobody would cry. Nobody would care."

Then, a shift in Sapphire's eyes. "You know, that won't be the worst thing in the world. Mother wouldn't even be upset. Princes are only meant to be married off, but who could even stand to be with you." She raised her talons, claws still on the shell. "Wouldn't you like that, brother?"

Albatross's stomach dropped. "No...no, no, no please, Sapphire, no..."

"Sapphire?" Lagoon said, "I'm not...I don't think that's a good idea." She sounded genuine.

"Why not? What has he ever done to us? For anybody? He just makes everything worse." She brandished her claws. "It'd be better for everyone."

Fear took hold of his body. He flailed in all directions, yet he could not free himself from Lagoon's hold. The only free thing was his mouth.

He looked up. He saw the shell. Then, as though instinct itself was speaking through him, he screamed. He could barely comprehend it before the words left his mouth.

"BITE HER!" he yelled, crying louder than he ever had before. "TEAR HER CLAWS OFF!"

The next moment was painted in scarlet. A splatter of ruby liquid on the sand. It pooled and grew larger, dripping down from above.

Albatross didn't feel like himself. There was a loud, piercing ring in his ears that drowned the world out. His body felt cold and numb. His brain was full of fog and he could barely think. He felt detached from reality, like an observer of the chaos.

The pressure that was on him– Lagoon, definitely– released. He pushed himself upwards, staggering to his talons. He looked blankly ahead.

She was thrashing. Her mouth was unhinged as though she was screaming, but Albatross couldn't hear a thing through the ring. Her wails and cries, while inaudible, were full of agony. Her face was painted with horror.

Lagoon was by her side, similarly in shock. She was trying to stop Sapphire, keep her still. Eventually, she tore something from Sapphire's claws. It landed by Albatross's talons, splashing in the puddle of blood. It splattered onto him, his talons, everything.

It was the clamshell. Its jaws held bits and pieces of flesh and gore in them.

He looked back at Sapphire. She held her talons up. Where her claws should have been were fountains of viscera. They were both screaming. Lagoon turned to him, yet he couldn't hear a word. He felt hollow. Absent. There should have been emotion, but instead, everything was muted. 

This...couldn't be real. Why was this happening? He didn't mean to hurt her. He didn't want to hurt her. Whatever it was, he knew it was his fault.

He looked at his talons, and for the first time in his life, he became aware of the slight burning sensation within his claws.

Rapidly, he gained feeling all over his body, as if suddenly pulled back into reality. His knees gave way and he fell to the ground. He shook, trying desperately to make so much as a squeak, yet nothing came out. His eyes were wide with fear.

The screams. By the tides the screaming. It was unlike anything he could properly fathom. A shrill shriek that made his blood run cold. He couldn't properly think of what else to compare it to. He had never heard somebody in so much pain before. 

Lagoon quivered, tears rolling down her face. She looked back at Albatross, her expression shifting to one of hatred and anger. "YOU KILLED HER!" she snapped. "How could you do this?! You- you monster!"

"I didn't mean to-"

"You did! You killed her! She's going to die!"

Albatross tried choking out another response, but he couldn't. He backed away. The sands were stained with Sapphire's blood. Everywhere he stepped his talons became soaked in it. 

It was his fault. Everything. He's to blame. Sapphire is dying. All that happened was a little squabble. She probably didn't mean it when she said she was going to kill him. 

But how? How could he do this? He was just a SeaWing. A normal, typical dragon.

He felt sick to stand there. Slimy and disgusting. A passive observer while watching her sister bleed out and die. She didn't deserve this.

He stared at Sapphire's stubby talons. They gushed blood. He held out his claws, pointing to it. He didn't know why. It felt right. That same instinct rushed through him. This deep-rooted knowledge that he never knew he had.

"Stop bleeding!" he cried out. The words were loud and clear, as if he was ordering Sapphire.

Then, stillness. Sapphire held up her claws. The three stood in silence as the scales began to heal. They did not regrow the talons but left them as is. They were healed.

Sapphire stared blankly at her talons, eyes wide and transfixed on them. Then, she promptly fainted. Not dead, but simply overwhelmed. She wasn't going to die. He saved her.

"It's...healed?" Albatross muttered. "How? Why? There can't be any-"

"Magic."

A pang in his heart. He turned back to Lagoon. "What?"

"Animus magic." She looked at him, her eyes piercing his very soul. "That was magic. You're an animus."

#wof #wings of fire #sp-writing #albatross wof #wings of fire fanfic #wof fanfic

[discord-lurking]

Dungeons and Daddies Wiki Drama: A Greek Tragedy Told through the Medium of Forum Posts (Part 2)

Act 2: The Wax Melts, The Sea Beckons

In which the wings begin to fall apart.

Despite the drama unfolding over the November admin discussion post, wiki life continued. User posts showed cracks in the foundation. Something was rotten in the state of Wikia.

November 6th, 2023:

November 9th, 2023:

It seems that the administrators were deleting pages, instituting rigid new rules about how long a post could stay unfinished (and, apparently, what qualified as unfinished).

Enter anonymous wiki user Chekovsnakess.

November 23rd, 2023:

Chekovsnakess pointed out the issue inherent in the deletions- moderators wanted more people to engage with the wiki, but what's the point, when the page will get nuked?

Chekovsnakess: "The wiki feels more of the admins' wiki rather than a community wiki."

The admins didn't take well to this critique.

TwoRatner: "In no way have we, the admins, been hostile."

TheOneTrueGod41: "It can't be unprofessional if we absolutely mean it."

PawnSum: "Uh, you can't type fast or something? I can, so that shouldn't be a problem."

Also, iconic quote from PawnSum: "I literally broke my ankle and couldn't get home, so I understand what pain is."

PawnSum makes a good point- only they, a wiki editor experiencing mild criticism and a broken ankle, could ever understand true pain.

Opening a paragraph with "you also don't seem to understand that your opinions aren't facts" and closing it with "Please stop leaving and just stay!"

A masterpiece of salesmanship. Glenn and his high Persuasion rolls could only hope to reach the levels of charisma displayed by wiki administrator TwoRatner.

Other iconic TwoRatner quotes:

"Admins are like princiPALS after all, or a nice janitor."

"You want me to quick my job? I can't! I already paid for the funeral and now I need more money to feed my family."

After this, Chekovsnakess remained silent, perhaps choosing to disengage from fandom wiki drama and move on with their life. An unthinkable choice, to be sure.

More users turned to the forums to express frustrations with the wiki, falling on the administrator's deaf ears.

November 29th, 2023:

December 3rd, 2023:

With this, we segue to the moderator response to wiki user critiques: splitting the wiki into two websites with separate mod teams, one for season 1 of the podcast and one for season 2.

In haunting Anakin-like fashion, TwoRatner says "I promise to bring about a satisfying future to this wiki." A promise they would be unable to live up to.

December 2nd, 2023:

TwoRatner's attempt to bring peace to their new empire wiki would first involve mysterious user Largeo and a separation on par with the Great Church Schism of 1054. Equally important decisions with equally worldwide consequences.

TwoRatner made the generous decision to put this up for a community vote, with only one dissenter: Zilstreet.

Zilstreet pointed out the obvious criticism: wouldn't splitting a wiki for a single show between two different places make it confusing for casual browsers? What about characters that appear in both seasons? Was there a specific game plan?

This was met with a measured, thoughtful response from the administrators.

"When life gives you grapefruit, you make grapefruit pellets to shoot at your friends, because plastic pellets hurt." -HungerBunger, December 5th 2023

How dare Zilstreet not take into account HungerBunger's trauma and exercises in extending trust???

"It's very obvious. We clearly thought about this."

Indeed.

More users with suspiciously similar speech patterns chime in to support TwoRatner's proposal.

Interestingly, MotPot brings up jazz unprompted. Where have we seen that before? Honic Washington and The One True God 41, in Part 1.

Clearly, there must be a lot of overlap between jazz fans and D&D podcast wiki editors.

Marth8204 came out swinging, telling Zilstreet that they should be ashamed for having the audacity to ask questions about a drastic site change, but seemed pacified by TwoRatner's warning to "tone it down a bit."

TwoRatner imposed a deadline for users to vote on the change.

FunderStun also came out swinging- this time, against Gaycowboyrats (featured in Part 1) and... Amber Heard? Then they delivered this line: "There is no savior, so we have to be."

Again, poetry.

And again, I'd like to put a pin in the Gaycowboyrats reference.

Thus ended the split discussion thread, leaving me with more questions than answers.

Nicoh Watonshing seems to be referring to wiki security breaches. Was this an ongoing issue? Were admins getting hacked? If so, by whom? What could hackers possibly want from the wiki?

What happened between Brazil86 and TwoMarshall? What did Brazil86 do wrong? Are there any words in the English language that can strike as much fear in one's heart as "abnormally long Discord call"?

Note the TwoMarshall brother reference: this is very similar to references made by TwoRatner to a brother that died. How coincidental.

This period of forum volatility closely follows the themes established in Act 1: a strict, opaque sense of wiki justice, wiki moderator power as a status more important than wiki functionality, calling for more community engagement while largely ignoring community engagement when it happened, and making drastic changes in response to real or perceived wiki problems.

Here, we see more new administrator names pop up in the forums with similar styles of speech and occasional non-sequiturs, even after Honic Washington's (apparent) departure.

Here, we see new discontent in the moderator ranks- some apparent failure by Brazil86, and its severe consequences with TwoMarshall.

Here, we see two moderators (TwoRatner and TwoMarshall) with similar brother-related situations. Did TwoRatner switch accounts? Was this related to the alleged security breaches in the wiki?

Despite being active in the forums and wiki at large before this, Gaycowboyrats is now conspicuously absent except for the reference by FunderStun, who wants to remove Gaycowboyrats from his position of influence and "free" the fandom.

Has the Dungeons and Daddies wiki been subject to some kind of administrator security breach and subsequent overthrow, resulting in a schism?

Life seems to be giving this wiki a lot of grapefruit.

And when life gives you grapefuit, you make grapefruit pellets to shoot your friends.

Chorus:

A statement from Zil Street.

Interim attempts at community engagement by the administrators.

Stay tuned for part 3 tomorrow with the thrilling conclusion of the wiki split saga!

#dungeons and daddies

[rotdistressxox]

since it was like a week ago but OMG ACTIVE KENGAN BLOG..i legit just got back into the fandom because i was here when it hit it's peak😭 i miss that sm ngl

BUT..can i request Kanoh Agito and characters of your choice with a reader that's around the same size and them and is of equal powerlevel/skill level..

also sidenote because i had a dream about this but how do you think characters would feel if reader that was somewhat like fang (multiple wins) didn't have a style/techniques and just..makes moves up?? LIKE IT WOULD BE SO FUNNY BECAUSE YOUR SO STRONG?? JUST FOR THEM TO FIND OUT YOU DONT EVEN HAVE A..AN ANYTHING

Omg ofcourse Anon, thank you for being my first request! Ah yes, the great Kengan boom of 2020. I'm not gonna do as many characters this time around. Anyways, let's get started!

Headcanons: Kengan Men with an 'Experienced' Fighter S/O

Kanoh Agito

• When the two of you weren't together, he felt a little threatened by you. Not afraid, but threatened. There was only so many people who made he feel that way since he was still high and mighty.

• At first when he saw you fight, he thought they were some sort of forbidden moves or secret techniques.

• After later investigation, he finds out from the other fighters that you have no background in any martial arts. It's just sheer luck, strength, and wit that you have by your side.

• Can such a person exist? You had racked up so many wins just by doing that?

• Things happened, and now the two of you are dating.

• Is still confused by the whole 'winging it' thing that you do when you fight. You're very unpredictable afterall

• Doesn't feel threatened anymore by your prowess. But would rather not spar with you, only analyze.

• Being his size means you have an advantage at A LOT of things when it comes to fighting. You've gotten an earful from Kanoh that you shouldn't take what you have for granted.

• But it's the best when he's there for you after fights or seeing him in a crowd.

Ohma Tokita

• "Hahh? You think you're all that, huh"

• You have more wins than him because he was still wasn't in any Kengan matches at the time.

• Needs to see it to believe it.

• Completely shocks him when you wipe the floor with your opponent doing nothing but fancy kicks and brute strength.

• He challenges you to a fight because that can't be all, can it?

• It can

• He couldn't see any patterns in your movement, redirect your flow of energy. Nothing. He almost uses advance, you break it up before it gets any further since you didn't want to hurt him

• You bond over sparring together. Surprisingly you two make a good match.

• Ohma and you start dating before the Kengan Annihilation tournament. You happily announce that you'll be taking part in it alongside him.

• He trusts your skills, but still doesn't want to see you get hurt.

• He's glad that he's not up against you in the tournament. He also doesn't wanna hurt you, duh.

• If people insult you or your fighting 'style' when he's near, there will be blood.

Raian Kure

• Insults your fighting style despite never seeing it for himself.

• Calls you "Just a brute with no skills, how pathetic!"

• Boy is he wrong. Once you two fight, everything catches him off guard. Just as he's turned on removal, you accidentally knock him out when your leg goes to far from a kick, kneeing him on the side of his head

• "Oopsie"

• After, an unlikely friendship forms. Which soon turns into romance.

• Always has to flex that he's won several more fights than you. But then you bring up how you beat him and he gets flustered.

• Has tried many times to replicate or copy your 'style' but it's too inconsistent besides a few moves you do regularly.

• Supportive as he can be. When he's not assassinating people, he watches your fights or spends time with you.

• "That's my (Reader) assholes! Watch and learn!"

Gaolang Wongsawat

• Didn't figure out you were a fighter until after you started dating.

• Highly critical of how you fight. Even after he started to date you he wasnt 100% supportive of it. Let's say he was 95%

• You always know how to prove him wrong though.

• Tries to teach you boxing, which goes pretty well and you end up adding some to your moveset. Though, you'll still be unpredictable in the end.

• He's well aware that you and him are pretty evenly matched when it comes to power and skill. Though he always considers you lucky that your current skillset has brought you this far.

• Is proud that you've won a lot of fights. Is not ashamed to call you his.

• Gets a little freaked out while seeing you fight sometimes.

• "Did they just...yeah they did"

• Is a worry wart.

• "You sure you're okay?" "Your knuckles are bruised, do you need some ice?" "You need to rest, lay back down"

#kengan ashura #kenganverse #agito kanoh #kanoh agito #ohma tokita #tokita ohma #raian kure #gaolang wongsawat #x reader