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puppy-steve · 1 day

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april fic rec

a monthly rec list to help me handle my tbr

<- march fic rec ❀ more fic recs ❀ my ao3

jake from state farm - T, complete @matchingbatbites

tags: modern au, cheating (not between steddie), getting together, valentines day

After a moment the ringing stops, and a voice says "Hello?" "Uh, hi, is this Steve?" "It is, who is this?" "It's Eddie, Jake's roommate? I got your number from him." Well, from his phone when he'd left it unattended one day, but Steve doesn't need to know the details. "I really, really hate to be making this call, especially the day before Valentine's, but uh. Jake is cheating on you."

wrong number - G, complete @steddiealltheway

tags: modern au, texting, getting together, friends to lovers

Steve waits a few more minutes before he makes his way out of the house and goes to his own. Once he gets into his room, he pulls out the piece of paper and types it into his contacts - after messing up the password and struggling to find his contacts. Steve: So not a serial killer I hope? There’s instantly some typing back that worries Steve. Shouldn’t Robin be distracted by her date? Robin: Not a serial killer but you might be… who is this? You intrigue me. Not Robin. Steve’s heart races as he looks at the scrap of paper. Damn scribbled mess.

Baby, It's Cold Outside - T, complete @steviewashere

tags: established relationship, nightmares, ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff

He was blissfully asleep in bed when a sudden cold shock to his back awoke him. Steve yelped, “Jesus!” And turned around to see who had snuck into his house this early in the morning (it’s only nine) and came face to face with his boyfriend, Eddie. “Eds, what the fuck? Hello? Hi? What happened to those? Christ.”

Am I The Asshole? - N/A, 5.6k, complete cairparavels

tags: modern au, AITA, getting together, autistic eddie, misunderstandings, fuck chad all my homies hate chad

Eddie hates his best friend’s new boyfriend and believes it is proof that he is homophobic. He takes to reddit to find out.

We could plant a house, we could build a tree - E, 3.7k, complete what_about_the_fish

tags: breeding kink, established relationship, feminization

When Eddie's dirty mouth stumbles into an interesting kink that makes Steve moan, they have to explore it further. A messy smut filled ride through Steve's breeding kink.

Come on Baby, Eat the Rich - E, 4.2k, complete nativity_in_black

tags: mild exhibitionism, daddy kink, feminization, dom/sub

“Eddie, we can’t- you know how they are. Just a bunch of rich snobs who think they own the place. What if we get caught?”, he worried aloud, trying to keep his voice steady as Eddie smoothed his hands along Steve’s waist. “Mm,”, Eddie hummed in thought, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Clicking his tongue, he looked back up at Steve, “Guess we’ll just have to be quiet, then. What do you say, baby?”

Come Back To Me - T, 3.8k, complete @beetlesandstarss

tags: major/temporary character death, grief/mourning, angst with a happy ending

“Where— uh. Where are you gonna bury him?” Eddie asks. “We’ve got… We’ve got some of his stuff. A box. We thought maybe…” “That’s a fine idea, son,” Steve’s grandpa says. And then, “Next to his parents seems the most fitting.” And— oh. Oh, God. No. Steve’s parents are— Are they dead too? (Or, Steve dies. And then he comes back.)

Hazy Shade - T, 5k, complete weird_witchcraft

tags: season 2 compliant, canon divergence, eddie gets involved earlier

Eddie stumbles into Merrill’s farm late at night on Sunday, November 4th, 1984 and runs into the last person he’d expect to see: Steve Harrington.

Worth the Effort - T, 9k, complete @solarmorrigan

tags: post-s2, friends to lovers, eddie takes care of steve, sick fic, hurt/comfort

Eddie ambles up and drapes himself against Steve’s locker door, head tossed back and eyelashes fluttering wildly. “Oh, Steve,” he simpers, high and breathy, “aren’t you going to whisk me away for a whirlwind Valentine’s romance?” “I’d love to, but I’m pretty sure I have a stats test tomorrow,” Steve drawls, sending a sidelong smirk at Eddie. “Ugh. Romance is dead,” Eddie declares. - In which Eddie contends with his crush on Steve Harrington, learns what a migraine is, and gets a valentine, more or less in that order.

nice to meet you, where you been? - T, 3/3, complete @flowercrowngods

tags: modern au, tattoo artist steve, friends to lovers, ace steddie, transmasc eddie, i could scream forever about how lovely this fic is

When Eddie enters the tattoo parlour that Chrissy recommended to him, he doesn't know what'll hit him. Never in a million years would he have expected the pastel or the minimalistic decor or how really fucking polished everything about this place is. It's like an antithesis to Eddie's entire existence has been created with the makings of this shop. The absolute cherry on top is the man that walks into the room to greet him, though. Because there is no way that Steve Harrington, whom Eddie had the maddest crush on in high school, owns a tattoo shop. No way. Nuh-uh. Not dressed in pastel like he is. Eddie wants to hate it. But he doesn't account for how genuinely amazing Steve is, or how crushing on him is the easiest thing. Really, it's a losing game from the start.

Mutually Beneficial - E, 1.2k, complete @steddie-island | kintsugi_kid

tags: mean dom eddie, age difference, power imbalance, choking, bottom steve

It had started innocently enough, with Steve getting kicked out as soon as he’d graduated and with Eddie Munson, town outcast, advertising a room for rent and a kid who needed a sitter. Moving in would be mutually beneficial. It evolved into, “Pretty thing, you take care of me… and I’ll take care of you.” Really, how was Steve supposed to argue with that?

Love and Smoke - T, series, WIP @stevieschrodinger

tags: cottage witch steve, snake familiar eddie, fluff

She sighs, rolling over on the couch like Steve’s just committed a huge offense, “I just don’t understand why you're so against it.” “There are a lot of reasons why a familiar is a bad idea Robbie.” And because they’ve been over this what feels like a hundred times, Steve can list them easily, “it’ll be fur or feathers, so not only would they shed on my furniture, and I’ll have fur or whatever everywhere, you know I don’t do so well with bird dander. Makes me sniffly. They get separation anxiety, so they have to go with you everywhere. Not exactly going to be convenient if I pull a- a – dire wolf or something, and you want to go to the movies. And if I leave them home alone, it would be cruel.” “You might get something small and hairless! Like a- a frog!” Rob insists. Steve just rolls his eyes and huffs, “but I might not. So no. Also, a frog? Really?” Not that Steve has anything against frogs particularly, just...where the hell would it stay? The sink? “Steve!” “I said no Robbie, okay. I’m not lonely. I have my garden, my books, I have plenty to do. I see you at the weekend, I see plenty of people at Tuesday Market. I am fine.”

Can I Kiss You? - G, complete @transvampireboyfriend

tags: crushes, first kiss, fluff

“Can I kiss you?” Steve asks, eyes glued to the side of Eddie’s face. Eddie is sitting on his couch and Steve is hanging out across from him, lounging on Wayne’s recliner. He gets to use it whenever Wayne’s at work, with his explicit permission and now priority, since Eddie was jealous enough to start a mock argument and Wayne took Steve’s side just to tease his nephew. So now Eddie has to give that place up whenever Steve’s over. Which, he almost always is, these days.

If Found, Return to Me - G, complete @steviewashere

tags: established relationship, couples t-shirts

He grips the hem of his shirt and tugs. Chin tucked into his neck so that he can read the text, which is bold and black and dark on the white background. ‘If found, return to Steve.’ Eddie groans. “Do we seriously have to wear these?” He whines.

fear the inky blackness of night - T, complete @griefabyss69

tags: post-s4, pre-steddie, steve getting over his fear of the dark

So when Eddie walks into his room, as he does, you know, like a person will just walk into the room he sleeps in, bed and dresser and guitars and all, he doesn’t expect there to just be… A fucking guy in there.

burgundy kiss - E, 6.5k, complete @hawkinsbnbg

tags: soulmates, modern au, dom/sub, under-negotiated kink, daddy kink, light breeding kink

Steve got Good boy inscribed on his butt, just on the right cheek. It would be funny if it was a tattoo Steve had gotten one time when he was too drunk and on a dare. Except it wasn't a tattoo. At all. Even though it kind of looked like one. In truth, it was the first word his soulmate would say to him.

Or, a meet-sexy story where Steve's soulmate is a man of culture.

dance with the devil - E, 2/?, WIP @sourw0lfs

tags: modern au, guardian angel eddie, monster steve, magic

The apartment is quiet around him, the only sound is the rush in his ears from the growing hangover, but it’s not so big he can’t find the owner. When he finally does, Steve actually throws up. If it weren’t for the smallest sliver of still clean blond hair amidst the sea of blood-clump strands, Steve wouldn’t even believe that the mangled corpse in front of him is the same guy as the night before. What the fuck happened? OR: The one where Steve turns 21 and his life turns upside down in the worst ways, complete with gaining the most obnoxious guardian angel known to man

go for it - T, 4.6k, complete @steveseddie | mseg_21

tags: flirting, getting together, pining, first kiss

Steve huffs. “What makes you so sure that you can convince me?” He asks with an arched eyebrow. “The kids have tried and failed and you know how relentless they are.” “Yeah, but I can be very persuasive.” He gestures at himself with a hand flourish. “You know, as a cult leader and all.” Steve hums. “Of course.” He leans his hip against the counter, only an inch away from Eddie’s thigh. “There’s gotta be something I can do to convince you,” Eddie says, moving his thigh until it touches Steve’s hip. “Something I can give you in exchange. To make it worth your while.” Steve’s eyes immediately dart down to Eddie’s lips. Eddie’s stomach swoops. There it is. or Eddie and Steve finally stop dancing around each other- too bad that the Hellfire Club is there to witness it

The Hawk - T, series, WIP @fastcardotmp3

tags: nancy wheeler centric, "the bear" au, multi pov, grief/mourning, character studies

A "The Bear" AU about the restaurant that falls into Nancy Wheeler's lap and the people that help her make it more than a burden. (Ensemble, Multi-POV)

the sweetest thing - E, 7/7, complete @cranberrymoons

tags: no nut november, established relationship, dom/sub undertones

It had started out simple enough between them, Eddie making some off-hand comment about Steve not being able to hold out for a whole month and Steve, ever unable to back down from a challenge, rising to the bait. “Whatever,” he’d said, rolling his eyes. “A month? Please.” He could do a month. Easy. He just hadn't counted on Eddie being – well. Himself. eddie goads steve into a No Nut November challenge; he never said anything about taking it easy on him

The Hole Story - E, series, complete @griefabyss69

tags: pre-relationship, fantasizing, slow burn, rimming

Steve wishes he hates the way he can't stop thinking about Eddie's tongue.

surface-level freak - E, 7k, complete @starryeyedjanai

tags: modern au, transmasc steve, werewolf eddie, human steve

Steve Harrington, Werewolf Fucker. He thinks he should be able to put that on his business card, but Robin says it's a little crass.

But My Heart Is Just A Little Boy - T, 2k, complete Atalia_Gold

tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, steve has dyscalculia

“Look, just carry on without me,” Steve muttered, and stood up quick enough that his chair scraped on the floor. “Steve -” Dustin started, but Steve was finished, striding towards the stairs and blinking back tears. He wasn’t going to cry in front of the kids, not over a fucking game, not over something his boyfriend loved so much. But they were coming faster than he could blink them back as he headed out of Mike’s stuffy basement and out to the driveway, the cold night air caressing his flushed face. This was supposed to have been a treat for Eddie. It was supposed to be fun, and Steve had ruined the night by being fucking stupid. ***** Steve wanted to surprise Eddie by joining in on D&D. Unfortunately, he's struggling with the math involved, and the kids aren't making it any easier.

Just a Shirt - T, 1k, complete @shares-a-vest

tags: established relationship, fluff, love confessions

Eddie makes Steve a customised Hellfire shirt, just for him.

The Taste of the Divine - E, 4.3k, complete tsmkeeler

tags: steddie as roommates, phone sex operator eddie, dom/sub, getting together

The exhale Steve was releasing staggered, and Eddie’s ears caught what sounded like Steve’s moan. The shuffling on the other side of the line reminded him he was on the clock and this was a good paying customer. He couldn’t just drop the line to handle Steve. He just needed to get him back in position and doing something, then he could get Steve out of there. He made a correcting noise. “On. Your. Knees.” Little brat thought he could do whatever he wanted for the pleasure. To Eddie’s surprise, Steve lowered to his knees. His chin tilted to his chest, hands on the tops of his thighs. He was sitting so pretty. What was stiff was now throbbing against the rough material of his dark jeans. “Yes, sir,” Steve replied breathily. Surely, Eddie was asleep and this was a night fantasy well beyond his best daydreams. There was no way. No fucking way. OR Steve and Eddie aren't only co-workers, they're roommates. While working his second job late at night, Eddie forgets to close the door and is pleasantly surprised by his roommates willingness to join him.

The Right Wrong Number - M, 8/8, complete @apomaro-mellow

tags: wrong number, getting together, phone sex, first meetings, modern au

Steve gets the wrong number and starts texting an interesting guy.

Kinktober 2023 - E, 19/19, complete @stevesjockstrap | deansdemondick

tags: kinktober, multiple pairings

Kinky Drabbles for October 😈

The End Of The Line - E, 6.4k, complete entanglednow

tags: post-s4, nightmares, (platonic) mutual masturbation, phone sex, feelings realization, fantasies, humor (like so much humor this fic made me laugh so hard)

Eddie knows better than to ignore a phone ringing in the middle of the night. After everything they've done for him the least he can do is be there for a friend in need.

Never Caught my Breath - E, 6.1k, complete @emchant3d

tags: established relationship, dom/sub, service dom eddie, role reversal (kind of), needy dom eddie, transmasc steve, daddy kink

“I know you had a long, long day,” he tells him, his touch tracing down, down, down, Eddie’s torso shivering beneath the ticklish drag of his hand, “so why don’t you just let me take care of you, huh? Does that sound nice?” “Yeah, baby,” Eddie says, barely more than a whisper. “Yeah, that sounds real fuckin’ nice.” Eddie works too hard. Steve helps him relax.

You're the Missing Piece - E, 7.9k, complete brokenpromisesandhope

tags: modern au, established stancy, polyamory negotiations, 5+1, stoncy endgame, exhibitionism,my first stoncy read and it made me feel Emotions idk

5 times Steve, Nancy and Jonathan had sex without each other and one time they did it together.

#cj talks #fic rec #steddie #steddie fic rec #steddie fic

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bitter69uk · 1 month

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Heartfelt gratitude to the attendees of last night’s Lobotomy Room cinema club presentation of Butterfield 8 (1960) at Fontaine’s! Some musings based on my introduction: Butterfield 8 is the story of the doomed love affair between a Manhattan call girl and a rich married man. (Seriously – who among us can’t relate?). Sure, the film has a terrible reputation but that’s what this film club is for - reappraising “bad” movies. I’d argue Butterfield 8 is juicy, irresistible good fun. If it’s trash, Butterfield 8 is the acme of trash. Rewatching it, I was struck by the persistent strain of melancholy throughout the film. You just know it’s all going to end tragically. The opening moments of Elizabeth Taylor waking up alone, hungover and naked in bed, donning a white slip, sparking the first cigarette of the day and prowling around silently feels like something out of a European art movie. It boasts snappy, biting quotable dialogue. Considering it was made during the Hays Code, it’s a genuine attempt by a Hollywood film to tackle adult content like adultery, premarital sex, promiscuity and prostitution. (It does what it could get away with at the time). As discussed, Taylor hated the script and only took this role begrudgingly (it was her final contractual obligation with MGM, liberating her to make Cleopatra with 20th Century Fox), but you’d never guess from the raw emotion, glamour and sensuality of her performance. Butterfield 8 captures Elizabeth Taylor at her most “Elizabeth Taylor”. She deserved that Oscar, damn it! It also gloriously captures the fashions and décor of 1960: pink marble bathrooms. Powder blue telephones. Swanky cocktail lounges with red flocked wallpaper, gilt-framed mirrors and chandeliers. Bouffant hairstyles. Cocktail dresses with plunging necklines. Full-length mink coats. (Boy, does that mink coat cause a lot of trouble!). Squint your eyes, and Laurence Harvey and Dina Merrill anticipate Don and Betty Draper of Mad Men. There’s no April film club (I’ll be attending the Viva Las Vegas Rockabilly Weekender) but see you again in May. Now go brush your teeth with scotch and scrawl a message on a mirror with pink frosted lipstick!

#lobotomy room #elizabeth taylor #liz taylor #butterfield 8 #melodrama #lurid #sordid #vintage smut #vintage sleaze #bad movies for bad people #bad movies we love #kitsch

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felassan · 6 months

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Merrill's Blood Soup recipe from Dragon Age: The Official Cookbook: Tastes of Thedas.

Transcribed lore blurb:

"Merrill's Blood Soup In the same vein as Llomerryn red, this is not actually blood - it's just red. Th color comes from the beetroot, which gives the soup a rich, earthy flavor that goes well with the roasted chickpeas sprinkled on top. Some might find the vibrant crimson hue off-putting, in the same way that many shun the practice of blood magic. However, as mages like Merrill have shown, I think it's best to not judge by appearances or by what you think you know. Take the time to experience things for yourself, and you might find yourself pleasantly surprised!"

Source: Dragon Age: The Official Cookbook: Tastes of Thedas.

#dragon age #bioware #video games #blood cw #its not blood but jic ^^#i wonder if this is a dalish recipe? ^^

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boatboys · 4 months

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color/lighting studies trying to push myself a little. some of them are based on photos of real people but the rich one is just color-picked from a picture of a fancy butcher block

#Rich Merrill #Solace King #Rafael Caro #Connor Campbell #connor the embodiment of the ''*cocks gun* i'm a healer but--'' meme lol. bad coping mechanisms: the travelling vet!#thank you to the person photographing the butcher block for including a little sprig of some kind of herb so I could color rich's eyes haha

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hexxalite-hecate · 1 month

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I don’t know why because there is absolutely no lore in any of the games to support this (in fact quite the opposite), but somewhere along the line I decided that mages in Dragon Age all have different coloured flames, they can’t choose or control or change it, it just is. And I’d already subconsciously assigned most of the characters their colour.

Amaranthe Amell - lapis blue with a heart of iridescent pearl (because she’s God’s favourite princess)

Neria Surana – bright sunny butter yellow

Morrigan – deep gold with a dark amethyst halo

Jowan – pale silver-green marshlight

Anders – umber with a heart of crimson

Wynne – powder-blue, translucent like glass

Connor – jade green

Lanaya – pale daffodil yellow with a grass-green halo

Velanna – sullen orange like glowing embers

Finn – pretty normal looking, but gets a glint of emerald at the centre if he’s super excited about something

Hawke – blood red. Just blood red

Bethany – soft violet

Merrill – scarlet fading into coral

Dorian – rich magenta with royal purple flashes

Vivienne – pastel lavender

Solas – smoke grey with a blinding white halo, hurts the eyes

I have no idea why I did this but it’s my inescapable headcanon now. Feel free to comment if you have a different vision, or a character I didn’t mention, or your own Warden/Hawke/Inquisitor/OC!

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high-dragon-bait · 2 years

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The thing about Hawke being champion of Kirkwall is... They have to be getting marriage proposals literally constantly. Some in person, but most in the mail, letters from families both in and out of Kirkwall asking for Hawke to marry either them or their heir. Hawke has never once given any of these families indication that they would WANT to marry into them, but that doesn’t stop them from trying

And if Hawke was involved with one of their companions, even married to them instead, these proposals wouldn’t stop. They’d be involved with/married to an elf, an apostate, an elven apostate, or a pirate, none of which nobility would consider “legitimate” matches.

So uh, here’s how I think Hawke’s potential LIs would respond to seeing one of these proposal letters

- Merrill insists on writing back to them herself, which Hawke is skeptical of, explaining that they don’t need to send back a response, the silence is a response in and of itself. But Merrill is very presistant “Oh, but ma vhenan it’s only polite. They took the time to write the letter, we should say something :)” and Hawke is finally like sure. What’s the harm. Go nuts. So she does! She spends hours dilegently replying to each one, and Hawke sends them out without looking at them cause they promised, y’know? Then... the letters start coming a bit more slowly, and then... not at all. Which Hawke doesn’t mind but they do wonder. They ask one day, and Merrill says she just thanked them for reaching out but that Hawke was not interested, and a “few other things.” She never said the nature of the “few other things.” One of the noble families fled their mansion in terror a week later.

- Anders burns the first one he finds, kind of impulsively, he finds himself being more annoyed that he’s being so blatantly ignored by these people than he would’ve expected. He’s a bit... embarrassed about it honestly. He somewhat sheepishly admits to Hawke he found a proposal letter and burnt it before Hawke could read it. Hawke is not annoyed by it like Anders is, Hawke is FURIOUS that Anders is being so disrespected by these rich bastards. FURIOUS. To the point that Anders has to be the one to calm them down. Anders is given free reign to burn any letters that come after, which is kind of a middle ground because Hawke wanted to go burn down their houses, so y’know. Compromises!

- Isabela straight up catfishes them. But Isabela knows how this “arranged marriages” business works, especially fancy noble arranged marriages, and that’s dowries. So, so many dowries. She scams at least twelve noble families out of hundreds of sovereigns. No. Hawke has no idea. They don’t find out until there’s almost a diplomatic incident between Kirkwall and some Orlesian family cause they sent a dowry of 800 sovereigns and Hawke never showed up to the wedding and they were sending threats. Only then does Isabela fess up. Hawke thinks this is hilarious but also doesn’t want to fight off Orlais clown assassins forever and asks Isabela to stop. Varric is so impressed by how well Isabela writes as Hawke he asks her to help on his book.

- Fenris... doesn’t care. Like. I’ve been sitting here thinking of some sort of funny story but there is just not a reality where Fenris cares. What? You think he feels threatened by Lord Tantervale Chantryman sending a betrothal letter to Hawke? No, if anything he uses them to practice reading because they’re wonderfully entertaining. Hawke hears muffled laughter from the library one day and finds Fenris reading a betrothal letter with a Starkhaven seal on it and they just... keep walking.

#Dragon Age #Dragon Age 2 #da2 #FenHawke #Handers #Hawke/Isabela #Hawke/Merrill #hawke x isabela #hawke x merrill

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krscblw · 3 months

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ghoul element perfume associations!

i've done a few scent association lists for individual ghouls, and i thought it would be fun to do one for elements instead! it's a little more general, which lets me include perfume that i really like but that don't fit any of the ghouls exactly. as always, i would love your feedback!!

Usual warning: This might look weird on mobile, but it should be good on desktop. Apologies, I'd fix it if I knew how.

Earth: Dense, earthy, bitter, green scents reminiscent of forests, gardens, and ruins halfway reclaimed by nature.

Notes: wood, vetiver, greenery, moss, soil, fruit, rose, stone, fungus

Rose Fantôme - LVNEA

“Rose Fantôme breathes not the fresh blooming rose but the one that has been cut, left and forgotten. Now one with its surroundings, it blends with the scents of dried grass and lichen, hay, and dirt.”

porcelain roses, immortelle, dried hay, graveyard soil, cepes, oakmoss, oakwood

Duende - Fantôme

“The smell of being lost in an enchanted forest.”

oakmoss, cedar, fir, resinous labdanum, benzoin, tree sap, wild violets, lilac

(i have this one, it's forest-y but also pretty light for a forest perfume. definitely a summery, magical forest smell)

Holy Oak - LVNEA

“Holy Oak alchemizes the aromas of deep, damp oakwood and the dry warmth of cedar to evoke the sound, sight, and smell of a well-worn cabin woodframe creaking against the weight of tempestuous rainfall as it begins to slow.”

galbanum, cedar leaf, petrichor, frankincense, cedarwood, oakwood, oakmoss

Mount Auburn - Little & Grim

“A dizzying array of all the flora that buds in Massachusetts. Fragrant, fruity blossoms and towering trees shading gentle, winding paths.”

fresh raspberry, melon, honeysuckle, blooming lilac, wisteria, spruce

Love Among the Ruins - Alkemia

“An ancient ruin of fallen stonework covered with lichen and tangles of flowering vines slowly disintegrating/returning to nature.”

stone ruins, lichen, tangles of flowering vines

Rochester - Fantôme

rich earth, crisp fallen leaves, sweet tobacco, a hint of patchouli, garden tomato, newly ripened autumn gourds

Vert Sur Le Vert - Alkemia

green grasses, new leaves, tomato seedlings, crushed sweet grasses

Air: Scents that range from cold, sharp, and sweet to thick, powdery, and dusty – reflecting the versatility of air as an element.

Notes: florals, musk, fruit, cold air, dust, sugar, honey, ozone

Lilacs Along the Winding Drive - Alkemia

fresh lilacs, a gentle breeze after a light spring rain, a dusty pebbled driveway, a slightly rusty porch swing, and a small handful of late blooming violets

Hummingbird - Zoologist

“This diaphanous scent alights upon you in a pastel bouquet of honeysuckle, mimosa, lilac and peonies, with just the lightest dusting of natural sugars found in pear, cherry and honey. A finishing dollop of velvety whipped cream melds the tantalizing notes, completing this irresistible and opulent perfume.”

apple, cherry, citrus, lilac, muguet, plum, rose, violet leaf, honey, honeysuckle, mimosa, peony, tulip, ylang, amber, coumarin, cream, moss, musks, sandalwood, white woods

Frost Flowers - LVNEA

“Icy and cold, delicate yet jagged, floral ice crystals slowly melt to reveal a heart of dark florals at the center of this musky and enveloping oil perfume.”

tuberose, jasmine, black currant, ambrette, cypress, elemi resin

Thundersnow - Fyrinnae

“On rare occasions within a system cold enough to produce ground level snow, the conditions are favorable for the right lifting and instability required to also produce lightning.”

cold air, electricity, metallic ozone, gasoline

Veil of Spidersilk - Nui Cobalt Designs

“Slender strands of cotton flower hung with trembling dewdrops… Wear to bless any new beginning and brighten the path ahead.”

cotton flower, dew, pale pink musk, tiny black vanilla beans, Margaret Merril rose, lily of the valley, neroli, honeysuckle, non-indolic jasmine

Mama Gein - Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

crushed baby’s breath dusted with baby powder

Foxfire - Alkemia

white sugar ambers, jasmine aldehydes, night flowering nardo

Fire: Warm, heavy, lingering, spicy scents. Some fire ghouls smell like smoke and fire, but others smell like heat, metal, or spices.

Notes: smoke, incense, spices, metal, patchouli, wood

Paimon - Fantôme

“This is a warm, regal scent conjuring an endless sea of sand with the hint of an oasis of coconut and dark vanilla carried on a warm desert wind. Golden frankincense, black amber, and myrrh stir under the endless dunes of hot sand, grounding the bright, golden notes that shine under the unrelenting sun.”

hot sands, frankincense, myrrh, sun-bleached parchment, vanilla, black amber, coconut husk, gold

Eldritch - Pineward Perfume

“Lair of ancient eldritch abominations, a resinous and dark perfume for the bold and unafraid.”

leather, myrrh, patchouli, fir, oolong tea, opoponax, smoke, pine needles, oakmoss

Stel - Treading Water Perfume

motor oil, metal, desert air, frankincense, oud

Persian Tea Room - Alkemia

spiced black tea, dry desert sand, spices, musk, soft leather

Firebird - Fantôme

“This is a rich, golden scent that emulates the golden apples and warm flame of the Firebird.”

smoldering embers, burning cloves, orange, golden saffron, endless forest, soot on feathers, soft flame, apple

Dwarf - Black Phoenix Alchemy Labs

iron filings, chips of stone, hops, soot-covered leather

Tyrannosaurus Rex - Zoologist

“A sultry heat wafts across the land, lapped up greedily by the abundant flora that thrives in its midst… The Cretaceous period comes of age against a backdrop scorched by wildfire and lightning strikes.”

bergamot, black pepper, fir, laurel leaf, neroli, nutmeg, champaca, geranium, jasmine, osmanthus, rose, ylang ylang, resins, cade, cedar, civet, frankincense, leather, patchouli, sandalwood, vanilla

Water: Water ghouls tend to have smooth, cold scents. Some are sweet, some are sour, some are salty, but all of them reflect different bodies of water.

Notes: ozone, vanilla, water, citrus, seaweed, salt, sand, ice, tropical fruit

Triton - Fantôme

murky sea water, ambergris, ancient forest mosses, crushed ivy, frankincense, resins, ozone, a hint of citrus

Voice of the Sea - Alkemia

“An olfactory musing from the underside of a wooden dock.”

salty sea breezes, sun-bleached driftwood, crushed seashells, lemon peel, barnacles, sand, and sea-soaked timbers

Dragonfly - Zoologist

“Giant lotus pads part to make way for buds that pierce the surface of the jade green pond. They raise their faces to the sun, their delicate fragrance floating around them. In the shadow of the flowers, tiny dragonfly nymphs also emerge from the shallows. They spread their fragile wings and shyly take flight, ready to explore a world beyond the water.”

grapefruit, basil, angelica seed, ginger, rice, aquatic florals, geranium, jasmin sambac, mimosa, orris absolute, rose, violet leaves, rainwater, moss, patchouli, tonka, vetiver, benzoin, cashmeran

Acadia - Alkemia

“An olfactory portrait of coastal Maine.”

atlantic ocean fog, balsam fir pine needles, seaweed, bay leaves, saltwater, charred driftwood

Gelatto - Pineward Perfume

“Suntanned skin and sunny beaches.”

makrut lime, jasmine sambac, mandarin orange, gardenia, massoia bark, sandalwood, ambergris

Squid - Zoologist

“The vast ocean swells and contracts, caught in the relentless tug of the moon. Beneath the surface, a school of squid emerges. Strange, elastic forms propel from the deep in a frantic search for sustenance. They are not alone. Their predators lunge, only to be foiled by blinding jets of murky ink.”

pink pepper, solar salicylate, incense, black ink accord, salty accord, opoponax, ambergris, benzoin, musk

Seahorse - Zoologist

“Balmy sunlight trips across foamy turquoise waves, sending rippling haloes onto the coral below. On the lagoon floor, anemone and seaweed sway in unison, limbs pumping to the rhythm of the current. Hovering among the coral branches, a group of seahorses gazes shyly on.”

guatemala cardamom, fennel, ambrette absolute, clary sage, tuberose, neroli, algae absolute, vetiver, ambergris accord

Quintessence: Heavy, warm, creamy scents. Quintessence ghouls tend to smell comforting, and their scents reflect human creations much more often than other ghouls’.

Notes: amber, leather, chocolate, alcohol, linen, lavender, wood, milk, vanilla

Amber Witch - Alkemia

aged dark arabian amber, honey musk, creamy bourbon caramels, spiced rum

Moon Magic - Sorcellerie Apothecary

“Smells like your favorite cozy witch.”

lavender sugar, tonka bean, chai spices, vanilla steamed milk, cashmeran, ambroxan, crystals charged by moonlight

Sailing to Byzantium - Alkemia

papyrus, leather, ink, cardamon, orris, tonka, wet tweed, precious incense woods

Novella - Alkemia

“A cozy afternoon curled up in a favorite chair…”

spiced lavender de provence, steaming earl grey tea, old paperback books

The Old Gods Survive - PULP Fragrance

cherry pipe tobacco, golden amber, aged leather, oakmoss, old cedar chests

Solovey - Fantôme

black amber, crushed violets, black currants, dark espresso, labdanum, black agarwood, tobacco

(one of my favorites of all time. it smells like nighttime but magical, somehow. the amber, violets, and espresso are most noticeable and it's so good. if dark purple was a scent it would be this imo)

Fleurs Historiques et Cacao - Alkemia

“A historical recipe from the 1700's court of Versailles created by a mistress to delight a king. A paradox of the decadent and the divine…”

dark cacao, french lavender, piquant black cardamom pods, tea with lemon peel, grapefruit blossom, vanilla musk

thank you for reading, and i would love to hear your thoughts! (also, gentle reminder if you got this far that reblogs are very appreciated!)

#the band ghost #ghost bc #nameless ghouls #nameless ghoulettes #ghoul perfume thoughts #perfume thoughts #fire ghouls #earth ghouls #water ghouls #air ghouls #quintessence ghouls

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herearedragons · 16 days

Note

DA2 - nightfall :D

"You know what I'm going to do when we're done with this - " Hawke waves her hand around vaguely - "mercenary thing?"

It's late, way past nightfall. Anders tapped out a while ago; Merrill just left; Fenris and Isabela both volunteered to walk her home, and something tells Varric they're not coming back either.

He thought Secret would be leaving too, but if she has one more conversation in her, he's happy to play along.

"Dragon hunter," he says.

"Nope."

"Master thief."

"No!"

Varric shrugs:

"Well, I give up."

"You weren't even trying," she laughs, then leans over the table with a conspiratorial grin and says:

"I'm going to be a playwright. I'll act like a boring rich socialite in public and write the craziest stuff under a pseudonym. Oh! - " her eyes light up with a new idea - "And I'm going to start a feud with you. Under the pseudonym. My fake identity is going to despise you."

"Well, didn't you just give the game away by telling me?"

"No-no-no, you're going to be in on it. I'm going to accuse you of stealing my ideas for your books and you're going to write scathing reviews of my plays, and that's how we get them." She snaps her fingers triumphantly. "Double revenue for both of us."

Varric chuckles.

"That's your idea of fun, Hawke?"

She raises an eyebrow:

"You're telling me it's not yours?"

"No, no, I like the way you think."

"Well, I like that you like it." Secret grins, and holds a hand out for a handshake. "Bitter enemies in ten years from now?"

"The bitterest," Varric agrees.

They shake on it.

#dragon age 2 #hawke #female hawke #varric tethras #herearedragons writing #oc: secret hawke #thanks for the prompt!

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the-cryptographer · 10 months

Text

So Merrill's story in DA2 has this whole bend about her having come from a nomadic hunter-gatherer culture and then moving to Kirkwall, which is part of a greater agricultural and proto-industrial network, in order to repair this ancient artifact of her people from a time they themselves were not nomadic. Which is a whole 'nother post and not actually my point here. But, see, because of this, I headcanon that Merrill's favourite foods are starchy, carbohydrate-rich products of an agricultural lifestyle - things like noodles and dumplings and porridge - that she wouldn't actually have had much access to living with Clan Sabrae.

So Merrill over for dinner at Hawke's and Orana has made this incredible spread of food in traditional Seheron style. All the dumplings and noods and all the spices and fixings. And Merrill is completely enamoured of it. So delicious. So luxuriant.

And Merrill is like 'These foods!!' 😋 'They say in the time of Arlathan, there were entire banquets of just dumplings! We elves have lost so much as a People haven’t we?' 😢

And Orana is like 😐

And Fenris is like 'Excuse you??!!' 😠

Like the elves are in the room and they're the ones that preserved and cooked up your shitting cultural experience. What are they, chopped liver?

And Merrill looking at a dumpling like 'Oh, is chopped liver what it's filled with?' 👀😋

#Merrill Sabrae #Merrill #Orana #Fenris #dragon age #lork dragon age opinions #ymmv but Orana and Fenris don't actually get along in my headcanon #She mistrusts and is afraid of the guy she remembers from Tevinter as Danarius's murder wolf and enforcer #And Fenris does not like to be remembered like that #But that doesn't mean he won't fight Merrill for talking down to Orana

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roach-works · 7 months

Note

Hey Roach, coming in a bit late with a Boat Boys universe question - how is the theatre scene in New York in this future? Is Broadway still a thing?

broadway is still a thing, though any number of theaters in the original manhattan theater district have shuttered, decayed, been bought out, and refurbished. new york city remains a very crowded city with a functional upper crust, and humans remain what they are, so there's still plenty of music, dancing, acrobatics, and play performances.

as a patrician, solace king is expected to be a very educated and culturally literate patron of the arts, and personally very much enjoys keeping up with the upper crust theater scene of big-ticket musicals and operas. as he matures as a patrician and gains power, wealth, and reputation, it would be expected that he start funding particular facets of the arts scene that he favored, as well as acting as a direct patron (and sugar daddy) of an artist or even a stable of them.

patronizing athletes isn't at all unusual either, though sol had, until meeting rich merrill, not given a shit about any sport that wasn't dueling, and was young and fit enough to be a duelist himself, so he was a decade or so away from being expected to do anything with sports but watch them, play them, and bet on them.

it would be considered a bit unusual for him to bankroll an athlete at his current age and level of establishment, but everyone is going to take one look at rich's ass and correctly assume that sol is doing the extremely normal wealthy young man thing of handing his very first sidepiece whatever they want.

ANYWAY. over the last couple decades in this universe there's been a roman-led revival and modernization of classic italian opera forms, as well as a mix of new stories written in the style of classics, as well as ancient greco-roman myths and legends being adapted a bit like how Hadestown has been.

additionally, american audiences and small-scale street and renaissance fair performers have taken whole-heartedly to the lowbrow, satirical, saturday-night-live vibe of comedia del'arte, which has a somewhat updated cast of characters alongside ancient favorites.

notable american additions include Coniglietto, a rabbit-themed trickster-slave who performs a lot of acrobatics in a very skimpy amount of dark rags, and his violently humorless lord and master Signore Lupo d'Argento, who takes the stage in fine pale clothes and white face paint-- but these are the sort of scenes you'd see played out in abandoned courtyards and runoff parks, not on fine Broadway stages with a triple-digit dollar sign pinned to each seat.

#boat boys #the michigan fleet

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kopfkino-o · 11 months

Text

The Seer’s Stone - Chapter Five

Summary: Elain Archeron is tired of being the “lovely, sweet gardener” everyone wants her to be. After losing her beloved, her humanity, her life, she’s ready to claim her own path forward with the help of her friends, Nuala and Cerridwen, as she searches far and wide for the mysterious Seer’s Stone: an ancient artifact of old rumored to once belong to an ancient Oracle. But will fate itself step in to stop her? Or will Elain defy the strings of destiny that bind her and forge her own path forward, choosing her own fate, friendships, future, and love, along the way.

Pairing: Elain x Azriel

Timeline: Post-ACOSF

Wordcount: 3800

Taglist: @downingg2001 @gracie-rosee @nivem565 // Let me know if you want on (or off) the tag list for future updates! Thank you all for reading <3

Read:

Chapter One | The Crone’s Trade

Chapter Two | The Oracle of Seraphyros

Chapter Three | Last of Our Kind (Azriel)

Chapter Four | An Empty Seat

THE SMUTTY STUFF - A PREVIEW

Author’s Note: Not saying I’m going to write a Tarqwyn fic, but also not going to say I’m not gonna. Writing Elain and Azriel together on page was so fun and I can’t wait for where their story here is headed 👀

Thanks for reading, y’all!

- Court

Cassian teased Elain the entire flight up to the House of Wind. He tickled the extra sensitive spot between her collarbone and neck, sought out only the hard updrafts of cold wind that ripped at the skirts of her pale purple dress, and pretended he was about to drop her not once. Not twice.

But thrice.

Elain was pale and wobbling by the time he all but dumped her onto the terrace of the House, his laughter so loud and rich it echoed off the red stone walls that made up the private home and stirred a flock of blackbirds perched amongst the rocks to flight. She would have thrown up right then and there on her brother-in-law's shiny leather boots if she wasn't half as much a proper lady.

“Rhys would have never done that to me,” Elain insisted, stumbling as she tried to make for the wide-open terrace doors.

Cassian’s laughter deepened further. “Well I’m not Rhys, and this is no Riverhouse. Best leave your expectations at the door, sweetheart.”

“I suppose I should expect nothing less from the couple who allows a magic house to cook and clean for them.”

“The House is our friend, thank you very much.”

“My point.”

Cassian cracked a smile. “Is it just me or have you grown some claws, Lainey?”

“Always had them," Elain said, throwing a smile at him. "You all just never bothered to notice.”

With that, she snickered at the look on his face and strode proudly into the House of Wind.

Elain found Emerie and Gwyn sitting inside, both women were slick with sweat and panting heavily, their Illyrian leathers and sheathed weapons somehow perfectly at home amongst the casual décor and sunny interiors. The former waved weakly at her, clearly exhausted, while the latter sprung up to her feet, teal eyes sparkling and a wide smile spreading across her freckled face.

“Elain! Cauldron spare me, I’ve been waiting to talk to you.” Gwyn grinned, bounding eagerly over to her. “I tried that recipe from baking club, the one with cinnamon and cardamom. I browned the sugar and left the butter out to melt overnight, just like you suggest, and well, the dough looked fine. But then when I put them into the oven, well, things sort of took a turn for the worse—”

“What she means to say is she almost set our new apartment on fire,” Emerie said plainly, the Illyrian woman's hazel eyes bright and clear.

“Almost, and did, are two very different words. Linguistically speaking.”

Emerie shrugged. “Schematics.”

Gwyn stuck her tongue out at the other Valkyrie. “If I wanted a grumpy opinion I would have just marched down to the Library and asked Merrill."

Elain cocked her head at the mention of the High Priestess, the woman and her moods all too familiar to her as of late.

“I thought you’d finished your last shift at the Library ahead of your trip down to the Summer Court.” She said.

“Oh, I have, but I still like to visit my friends there to catch up on the drama every now and then. Plus, I just... wanted to spend a little more time there before I depart for Adriata." Gwyn shifted nervously on her feet, her teal eyes flicking toward the wide expanse of widows. “I’ll be away from Velaris for two whole months if you can believe it. Apparently, learning the art of the spear is, apparently, no easy feat.”

Elain nodded, remembering the priestess's mention of her plans to travel south to the Summer Court to learn the art of the three-pronged spear from the southern court from their time spent working together on the details of Nesta's mating ceremony a few months prior.

All of the Valkyries who were comfortable with leaving Velaris were soon due to travel far and wide across Prythian to expand their knowledge of different weapons, fighting styles, and battle strategies. Gwyn amongst the ranks of them, and, apparently, the one who came up with the idea for the journeys in the first place.

“I hear Adriata is beautiful, though. Feyre often speaks highly of the city” Elain said. “And the High Lord who rules it."

Cassin coughed pointedly from where he leaned against the doorway.

."I've always wanted to travel south and see the white-sand beaches and bright blue water of Summer. And the Spear-Daughters of Summer are amongst the fiercest warriors in all of Prythian. Save for us Valkyrie, of course. But,” Gwyn shook her head, teal eyes dropping down to her feet. “ I mean, Mother bless me, I’ve never even left the Night Court before. The idea of traveling so far is just so... new.”

Elain blinked and a lovely, hope-filled image shimmered in her mind's eye.

Yes, so very new but how very beautiful.

She couldn't stop herself from reaching across the space between them and taking Gwyn's hand in her own, squeezing it once and offering a smile she knew was not her place to explain but one she could not suppress.

"I have a feeling you're going to be happy there, Gwyn. Truly happy." She said.

The priestess quirked a copper brow, her freckled lips parting as if to question the statement further, but then Nesta was sweeping into the room, her beautiful face fixed with a general’s hardness and a goddess’s grace, sword flashing silver at her side.

She paused in the doorway, straightening at the sight of her little sister, and raked Elain over with a critical eye that saw everything and missed nothing. Nesta’s lips twitched at the sight of Elain’s unruly hair, her wrinkled and wind-tousled clothes, the flush of green still on her face.

Then frowned.

“Why do you look like you’ve just survived a tornado?” Nesta asked.

Elain threw an accusatory look at where Cassian was leaning in the doorway, smiling smugly as he cleaned his nails with a hunting knife, wings splayed wide and haloed by the sunny terrace beyond.

If Nesta was iron and frozen flames, then he was steel and crackling fire. Two sides to the same coin, honed and tempered by sheer grit and determination. A perfect match.

"Bumpy ride," Elain answered sweetly.

"You're green. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Nesta. Just a touch... flight sick."

Her older sister’s eyes narrowed further. “Well, if you’re going to be sick, try not to lose your lunch on the carpets. The House is willing to do much and more, but cleaning up vomit is not one of them.”

Cassian barked a laugh. Emerie merely rolled her eyes.

But it was Gwyn who leaned in close and whispered to Elain, “She found that out the hard way.”

Nesta scowled. "I can hear you, Berdara."

"Perhaps that's the point, Nes," Gwyn said sweetly, tossing a curtain of copper-brown hair over an armored shoulder before turning to Elain and gently patting her arm. "I'll send you those spices you asked for as I find them. But, until then, best of wishes, Elain. The next time you see me, I'll be good and properly trained on how to drive a spear thrown a grown male's gut."

With a wide smile and dramatic flourish, Gwyn scooped up a wooden stave from the corner of the room, brushed past Cassian as if he were nothing more than a mere stalk of wheat, and sauntered out into the blinding light of the terrace and training ring beyond.

"Mother spare me," Nesta rolled her eyes, though even she couldn't hide the smile turning up the corner of her lips. "A few months out of the Library and she's got enough confidence one might think she's the future Princess of Adriata."

Elain only smiled.

A lapse of silence settled between them and Elain used it to glance around the room, noting the changes that had been made to the House since the last time she visited. The once heavy velvet curtains were replaced with light linens that billowed in the wind and light bright, natural light pour into the space. The old, dusty furniture had been replaced with more modern, but still comfortable, outfittings and nearly everywhere she looked a bookshelf lined the wall.

Even the marble of the hearth was new, the stone simple but chic and, above it, hung a portrait of Nesta and Cassian clad in armor and proud atop the high peak of Ramiel, swords raised and heads haloed with writhing crowns of silver flame.

Something in Elain's heart tightened. It felt strange to see this place, this home, filled with so many things that reminded her of her sister. And the new healing and happiness she’d found within it.

"What?" Nesta asked, the question almost self-conscious.

Elain shrugged. "Nothing. I just like what you've done with the place."

"You came all the way here to assess my interior design tastes, then?"

"No."

Nesta glanced over at Emerie and Cassian and gestured with a slight jerk of her chin toward the open doorway. Leave us, that gesture said. The former groaned as she rose and trudged, albeit slowly, on muscular legs for the door, collecting a longsword and wooden shield as she went. The latter merely winked, blowing Elain a kiss and offering Nesta a look that would have had anyone else blushing red before swaggering out to the training ring.

Finally alone, Nesta let her guard down, the hardened general softening to a concerned older sister. Even the hard glint in her blue eyes seemed to ease up.

"Is everything okay? Your head, the visions?" She asked softly.

"Yes, Nesta. I'm—"

"And Feyre, the babe?"

"Everything is fine, Nesta. I swear it.” Elain assured feverishly. “I've just come to fetch a book, that's all. No need for any worries. Everything is perfectly fine. ”

Nesta blew out what very well might have been a sigh of relief but then the worry furrowing her brow turned hard one more and the thin line of her lips became a scowl.

"You came all the way here for a bloody book?"

Elain nodded. "I need it for a gardening project. The collection of the local flora and fauna is far more impressive in the library here than in the one Rhys and Feyre keep at the Riverhouse."

The lie came so easily it felt almost as if it were the truth.

Elain's gut twisted at the realization, twisted and withered at the utter lack of suspicion in Nesta's eyes. Nesta, who she had shared every secret with. Nesta, who had always been there and always understood. Nesta, who was her older sister and closest friend. Elain had never lied to her, never had a reason to, until now.

Until these last few months.

A clash of steel on steel drew Nesta's gaze out towards the veranda. Once that might have hurt her, might have made Elain feel small and overlooked, but she understood more now, could See more now. She and her sister had different purposes now, new lives and relationships that demanded more focus, more attention. Nesta had her Valkyries and her mate. Elain had the twins and her gardens and her ugly little secrets.

"Alright," Nesta said finally, nodding slowly. "Ask the House if you need help. It can find just about anything, anywhere, but only if you're polite. Come find me before you depart. We can take the stairs together if you're feeling up for it."

"I'm not sure my body could physically handle that," Elain chuckled.

"You'd be surprised what your body can do when you put your mind to it."

Oh, but Elain did know. Perhaps a little too well.

But she merely smiled, grabbing her sister and hugging her tight, before bidding Nesta goodbye and watching, lovingly, almost enviously, as her older sister strode out to the training ring and her new life that waited within.

Alone and unwatched, Elain wasted no time getting down to business, hurrying at once for the stairwell.

The floor above was occupied by House of Wind’s library at the end of the hall with private bedrooms lining the narrow space on either side. Elain moved swiftly past them on silent feet, checking every other heartbeat over her shoulder until she stood before the closed door of the last bedroom on the left.

She wasn’t sure how she knew this particular one was his, only that she could feel it. Could scent it. She’d never been inside, never even been close, but she knew it in her bones.

Heart in her throat, she knocked once.

And waited.

When there was no answer she knocked again, louder now.

Again, no answer.

So Elain rallied her spirits, forcing down every worry and fear that warred within her and tried the doorknob. Unlocked. She glanced one last time down the hallway towards the stairwell before slowly pushing the door open.

The space beyond was well-lit, the linen curtains thrown away from the wide panel of windows that illuminated the meticulously neat and utterly empty room.

The worn leather couch was unoccupied and the nearby neat column of books was seemingly untouched. No cloak hung from the iron peg in the entryway and her delicate ears caught no whisper of movement within.

“Hello?” Elain called out anyway, nerves a maelstrom in her stomach.

But, again, no answer came.

So she gathered her skirts and slipped quietly into the Spymaster’s bedroom.

The scent of mist and cedar and something more floral hit her at once. It was so familiar, yet the space around her so foreign. Elain couldn’t stop herself from taking in her surroundings, feeling as if she'd d stepped into another realm, a world entirely of his own that gave her the chance to steal an intimate look into his personality.

The unlit heart was completely devoid of ash or burned logs as if it’d been a long time since a fire had been lit within it, if ever at all. Nearly every visible surface was lacking even a speck of dust and every single thing within the room seemed to have a methodically dedicated place.

Artwork hung on the walls, some pieces clearly done by Feyre’s hand, others older, more classic. A long bookshelf occupied the western wall and was stuffed full of books and greenery and trinkets from worlds Elain could only ever dream of visiting. Whirling golden instruments from the Dawn Court, fur-trimmed masks from the Winter Court, and tiny, carved wooden bobbles that could only hail from the Human Lands.

A potted Kingsflame flower bloomed in the corner, healthy and vibrant as if it’d been tended to both night and day, while a collection of seedlings were just now greening on the window sill. A star-sphere and a looking glass sat upon a nearby table, a bushel of carefully dried flowers and a worn hunting tapestry hung carefully above it.

And the books, Mother bless him, there were so many books. Perhaps even enough to rival the collection in the Library just down the hall. They occupied every spare space, all neatly stacked with obvious care.

Elain drifted further into the room, rounding a cutout in the wall and mounting a small set of stairs up to where a large, four-poster bed occupied most the space. It was made, clearly long-since slept in, but the bedding was surprisingly worn, the cobalt and amethyst quilt threadbare and bearing the hallmarks of something obviously handmade.

She found what she was looking for just beyond the bed.

The large, elegant desk was framed perfectly by a cascading beam of sunlight as if it’d been waiting just for her.

The stacks of papers atop it were neat, the collection of scrolls and tomes in the cubby nearby even neater. A large ale glass that reminded her of the one her father used to drink from held a collection of quills and writing utensils, a fresh pot of ink capped and waiting beside it. Even the small astrolabe resting at the desk’s edge was clean and neat, the interlocking golden spheres polished so thoroughly they shined in the sunlight.

Elain approached it as if she were in a dream, her attention clouded by her plan.

Find a map of the Prison, commit to memory, and bring it back to Kalla and the Twins so they could help her design a plan for infiltration. Find the fragments of the Stone, find the Staff.

Easy enough, Elain thought sarcastically.

She opened the unlocked center drawer and began to shuffle through the papers inside. Her eyes flew over the papers, drinking in different codenames and dossier titles and reports from spies in any and every court. If there was a secret, it was here. If there was any kernel of hidden knowledge, it was here. None of it mattered to her, though. Her course was set, her mind decided.

The Prison, the Middle, the Autumn Court. The Stone, the Staff, the—

"I never took you for a snoop."

Elain jumped at the low, soft voice and her hand immediately fell away from the map of the Prison she'd wriggled free, flashing instead to the dagger concealed at her side, and whirled.

Only to find Death standing in the doorway.

Azriel was dressed all in black: black knee-high leather boots, black leather breeches, a black tunic with black iron fastenings, black scaled pauldrons with matching black gauntlets, and a black cloak that flowed from his shoulders like smoke, even his hair was fully black in this light, but his eyes were bright gold and his face was flushed with life and color, as if he'd just come off a cold wind. Shadows swarmed around him, snakes twinning and whispering around his hands and shoulders, already murmuring her secrets.

Beautiful. Terrifying. A face she’d seen in countless dreams.

Elain snapped her hand behind her back, straightening at the sight of him, and forced a demure smile, steeling herself against his assessing gaze until she was nothing more than a trembling fawn. Innocent, unaware, and entirely unassuming.

"Cassian asked me to fetch something," She said sweetly.

Azriel only cocked his head. "Did he?"

"Training plans. For the Valkyrie’s afternoon drills."

Azriel took another step into the room, shadows swirling. One in particular curled around his neck and murmured in his ear, whatever secrets it whispered drawing a small smile across his lips.

“They tell me when you lie, you know.” He said softly.

Cauldron spare me.

Elain swallowed hard, racking her brain for an excuse. “Nesta asked me to help find your travel long. She wanted to know if you'd be back before the Valkyries head out for their trips abroad."

"That's not it either, is it."

He took a step.

"Mor was worried about you."

Another step.

"You lie again."

They were so close now she could smell the wind on him, could see the veins of emerald in his hazel eyes. Could see the pale smattering of freckles that graced his cheeks, tiny constellations dusting his golden skin as if the Mother herself had tossed them there.

“I needed a map.” Elain breathed.

Azriel hummed. “That’s more like it.”

He reached behind her and gently plucked up the documents she'd discarded between scarred fingers. Elain watched anticipatingly, heart hammering in her chest, as he unfolded them and studied the various maps of the Prison Isle with eyes that gave away nothing. A beautiful, tortuous face that gave away absolutely nothing.

“Why?” He asked after a long moment.

Elain straightened. “It’s none of your business.”

“Is it not?" Azriel countered. "You are here in my bedroom, uninvited, trying to steal from me after all."

“I wasn’t stealing, merely borrowing. And your door was unlocked besides.”

Azriel leafed through the maps again, hazel eyes churning. Unable to bare the tension between them, Elain eached for the map and tried to snatch it from him, but he was too tall, too fast, for her to even come close. Instead, she found her fingers curling over the strong expanse of his forearm, his burnt skin warm beneath her grip. Their eyes met over the sparse space between them.

This was a mistake.

Elain yanked her hand away, fumbling as she took a step back. The edge of the desk pressed into the column of her spine but the dul pinch was a welcome reprieve from the heat building in her blood. Mother spare her, why did he have to have this effect on her?

"Why?" Azriel asked again, voice softer this time.

Elain sighed. "I just...I need to see if something's there. If something I thought might not be real is, in fact, very real after all."

"You saw something."

I wasn't a question. And Elain certainly wasn't about to answer. She tried to draw further away from him, desperate to put space between them, if only to stop the strange feeling that swirled in her belly whenever he was near, but Azriel only drew nearer.

"The Prison is not to be considered lightly," Azriel said. "The Isle itself is largely uncharted. The land is just as much a monster as the creatures locked away on it. It's law unto itself, unchecked and untamed."

"Right, because I'm utterly incapable of taking care of myself. I suppose you've forgotten it was me who stabbed the King of Hybern just like everyone else."

Elain could see the blow land. Something in Azriel's eyes flickered out at her words, the harshness with which she spoke them, but Elain refused to let herself feel guilt over them.

Desperate to be away from her, from the weight of his sad hazel eyes, Elain moved to shove past him. She didn't need the physical maps to navigate the Prison's vast isle and complex passageways. The mere glimpse of documents was all she needed. Her magic could help her recall them later, and in near-perfect detail too.

Azriel's hand flashed out and caught her wrist. A bolt of static skittered up her skin from where their bodies touched. "I don't doubt you, Elain. I never have." He said gently. "But you just can't wander into the Prison without a plan. There are residents there who scare even Rhysand. Who scare even me. I won't let you go alone."

"I'm not going alone. I do have friends, you know."

“The twins might be privy to a lot of things, but access to the Prison is not one of them. Rhys has only granted myself and a select other few the ability to bypass the wards there. No one else could ever even dream of getting past that sort of magic without his knowledge. Or his approval." Azriel released her wrist. Her skin felt cold without the warmth of his touch. "And something tells me you don't intend to ask Rhysand for that."

"Rhys would grant me a palace amongst the stars if I asked nicely enough. Feyre too, for that matter." Elain said defiantly. She wasn't going to back down on this, not now that she'd finally spoken her mind. "Besides, I don't need Rhysand's permission. I don't need anyone's."

Azriel chuckled, the sound sending his shadows skittering and warmth radiating through her bones. "I’m not sure I’d call that spelllspinner you’re hiding away in the Library a friend. She’s far from trustworthy from what I’ve gathered.” He said and Elain did not fail to note the sly little smile that curved his lips. He knows about Kalla then. She did her best to master herself, unwilling in letting him know he’d surprised her with that reveal. “It’s not like she’ll do you much good, either way,” He continued. “One mere tug at the threads of those binding the spells to the Prison and your spellspinner will scramble her mind so thoroughly she'll forget her own name.”

Elain had been afraid of that. While Kalla was confident within her own abilities to manipulate and break the threads of magic, the twins hadn’t been so convinced, both Nuala and Cerridwen afraid of something exactly like this. The Prison was old, they’d warned her, and it’s magic older still. Breaking past those wards would be no easy task, especially not without Rhys or someone who carried his expression permission to step foot on the Prison Isle.

But Elain had hoped, Mother had she hoped…

Closing her eyes, Elain drew in a long, steadying breath and loosed it on a slow exhale. "Are you going to try and stop me?" She asked him finally.

“No. Never.”

“Then what do you want, Azriel?”

Now it was the shadowsinger who drew in a deep breath of his own. Azriel met her eyes when he finally answered, his voice soft but resolute. “Let me help you, and Nuala and Cerridwen, with… whatever it is you’re trying to do. I won’t ask questions, won’t pass judgment, only lend help where I can.” He said. “You want on the island without Rhys or Feyre knowing? Fine, consider it done. The Prison is no place for recklessness. I won’t stop you, Elain, but I’ll be damned if I don’t do everything in my power to try and keep you safe.”

Azriel extended the maps he’d caught her with as if he were offering an olive branch. Elain could only stare at him. His words were both hope and heartbreak.

“You don’t have to face the darkness of that wretched place alone. Let me help you, Elain.” The spy master of the Night Court, the man who they claimed was Death given form, pressed. “Let me face that darkness with you.”

Elain eased the maps from his burnt fingers and tucked them into the pocket hidden in her cloak lining before meeting Azriel’s hazel eyes. She offered him only one word in answer before brushing past him and striding from the room.

“Fine.”

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