Listen this is the only place I could go to so I need help finding a fanfic
Ok so this begins with like Nozel being the perfect kid but growing up to love Noelle and after a fight with his father he ends up leaving with Noelle and becoming a treasure hunter and everyone tries to get him to become a magic knight.
Also Charlotte ends up liking him because he saves her from her curse instead of Yami like cannon and I can't find it so I'm running to reddit/tumblr
That sounds like "Knight In Silver Armour". The description is an excited Noelle talking about her bestest of a brother, Nozel who's a great treasure/head hunter.
www.fanfiction . net/s /13349133/ 1 /Knight-In-Silver-Armour
Erase the spaces, should be good to go. If not, feel free to bother me.
@sorainhere
Why do I have a feeling that the skirt was made of Nozel's cape feathers?
One day Helena sees Nozel's half-destroyed cape and makes a skirt out of it, while Nozel's running around the Silva Castle looking for it "Honeeey! Where is my feathered cape?!"
Modern BC medical AU where Nozel and Fuegoleon are both top notch surgeons and want to be the top of their field.Ā
Dorothy is an anesthesiologist, Char is laboratory scientist, and Yami is a physiotherapist who has a very down to earth approach to everything and who practically lives at a local gym complex, The Black Bull, that belongs to Henry, but heās not fit enough to be the front figure of the business.Ā
William is an oncologist and Kaiser is a hematologist.Ā
Jack is an autopsy technician, and Julius is the head of the hospital
Both Nozel and Fuegoleon have insanely low dps scores but one time they were put in operation room to present a simple removal of some sort of cyst from like a finger or whatever, and they present it to newbies surgeons/students and it turns out into horror. Like 600% death rate cus they did it so fast and elegant, no marks of having a hand cut open, and the students just flopped onto the floor and died of shock, they both rushed to the students and somehow ended up slicing the patients leg open and he died too. It was very confusing for everyone involved.
They are not allowed to lead presentations together anymore.
Yami and Jack are not going to let them live it down.
Not one person can explain how this could happen, and no one is allowed to talk about it.
Dorothy was Nozel's therapist after that and helped him get back up. He does not cut anyone open, no matter how small the cut would be, without Dorothy present in the room. She gives the patients some "silly juice" for the sake of Nozel's sanity.
the decrease in costuming quality over the last 20 years has been soooo precipitous & nauseating. iām not even talking abt marvelās cg supersuits or anything this time, look at the fabric quality, structure, layering, character, and craftsmanship of older costumes in 102 dalmations (2000) vs cruella (2021)
ever after (1998) vs cinderella (2021)
lord of the rings (2001-2003) vs the rings of power (2022)
this trend should upset you not just because it looks cheap, but because it suggests a strong anti-art and anti-labor movement in film and tv making. donāt forget costumers are unionized
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Mereoleona pushes Fuegoleon's patience to its absolute limit.
Hey everybody it sure has been a long time since I posted a link to my very much ongoing fic! But it's still going, even if updates are not every other day like we originally planned, and it's still good and funny!!
This is my unofficial announcement on this blog that I have been Going Through Itā¢ and so it's been difficult for me to make my usual zany silly updates with spoilers. But that won't stop the updates and any comments encourage me to keep on truckin! So thank you for your patience and support. I love you all, stay warm!
Stopped Mereleonas punches and fivking shattered the damn cuts Jack dished out, this man is here saying "I will beat your ass without even beating it"
MANS REALLY OUT HERE HANDING OUT THE Ls, not Lucifero literally THROWING SALAMANDER AT FUEGO
IVE NEVER SEEN A MORE BORED MAN
MEANWHILE NOZELS ENTIRE LIFE IS FLASHING BETWEEN HIS EYES AND HIS BRAID
THIS IS THE FACE YOU MAKE WHEN YOU GO TO THE STORE BECAUSE YOU FORGOT THE EGGS YESTERDAY AND HAVE TO GO TO THE STORE AT ASS OF DAWN O'CLOCK BECAUSE YOUR MOM SAID SO
*Patrick star voice* "HES JUST STANDING THERE... MENACINGLY.."
GOOD TO SEE ASTA'S TENACITY RUBBING OFF ON THE CAPTAINS
ALSO THIS LOOKS LIKE A MOMENT WHERE LUCIFERO MIGHT STRAIGHT UP BREAK THE SWORD
Lucifero looks bored as hell and enraged at the same time and I'm living for it, give us that no fucks given energy
Hello! i really really love ur works (ļ½”ā”āæā”ļ½”) thank you for making such a beautiful works! btw, can i request nozel x fem!reader when she get like em, baby blues? she's been gloomy after her child born and how nozel handle this situation? + fluffy please. anw, you can delete this if u feel uncomfort and don't force yourself okayy, thank you and have a good day!
Hello~! ^-^
Thank you! š„ŗ I'm so happy to hear that you like them! And no worries, I'm not uncomfy with pregnancy stuff š„° I hope you'll like this š
Pairing: Nozel Silva x f!reader
Genre: fluff with a bit of an angsty beginning
Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy; the topic is pregnancy "blues"
Fic type: Oneshot
Length: ~0.95k
You sat in a chair in the corner of the room, hugging your legs while staring outside from the nearby window. It was raining outside, and the grey outdoors reflected your mood far too well. The cold, dreary world that was nothing but a collection of hues between white and black. Blank and monotone.
And it made a lump rise to your throat time and time again. It was almost as if each time you managed to swallow it, a new one emerged just as quick. The back of your eyes felt a weight of the tides that came from the tears that you hadnāt shed. And your limbsā¦ they felt the kisses of winter months; something they shouldnāt have felt.
It shouldnāt have been. Not from everything that you had been told. āBeing a mother is a blessing.ā One had said. āYouāll feel so much more love for you child when they are born.ā Said another. āThereās that instant gratification after labour!ā Said a third.
And it made you feelā¦ like there must have been something wrong with you. Because you didnāt feel that. You didnāt feel blessed, or overjoyed, or ā¦ āso in loveā after giving birth. Instead, all you could do, was look at the child, your child, that you were supposed to love with all your heart. The child who was fully, and completely, dependent on you. Your child. And how they would turn out, was largely in our hands.
Of course you took care of the necessities. Feeding, bathingā¦ The things that were expected of you. So, you played the part of a mother. But it scared you. It terrified you. Andā¦ you thought that youā¦ didnāt really want to be one. Not with all the responsibilities that had hit you like a ton of bricks.
āHeyā¦ā
You turned your head towards the voice, towards Nozel, your husband, who you hadnāt noticed because of how immersed into your thoughts you had been. He just stood there, like a stone pillar.
It was so funny, at times. Because you knew just how soft, and sweet, he could be under that shell of his. But most of the time, he looked just like that, like a finely crafted piece of marble. Like he couldnāt be moved with any force on earth, which had to do with how he had learned toā¦ not be moved by a lot of the things around him. Or look like he was. āDonāt let them see how theyāre getting to you,ā was something he told you at times. And it had to do with the vultures, those who lived on gossiping about other nobility or royalty, getting a sense of satisfaction. But behind closed doors, you both had slowly learned to talk about it; just the two of you.
āIsā¦ everything alright?ā He asked while kneeling down, knowing the answer, but asking nonetheless.
You let out half of a chuckle that came out more of a broken cry. And that told him more than he needed to know.
āIāmā¦ Itās scary. Andā¦ sometimes I sneak to their crib to see if theyāre still breathing. Whichā¦ is foolish I know, butā¦ā He admitted, and fumbled, trying to find the right words to tell you. But what even were the right words to tell you.
āTheyāre justā¦ā you shook your head, more as if swaying it from side to side as you looked for words of your own. āSo vulnerableā¦ā You whispered.
His eyes fell, as if as a sign of agreement, and he sighed before standing up and leaning towards the chair.
You scooted a bit to the side, making room for him. And after a bit of shuffling, your arms and legs were tangled together on the recliner that seemed too big for one person, but tight for two. Your back was pressed against his chest, and he held you close.
āYouāre right. They are vulnerable. And itās up to us to care for them. Whichā¦ thereās a lot thatā¦ can happen, even with us around.ā
That didnāt really help the way you were feeling, which made you tense in his embrace.
āSoā¦ We need to beā¦ good parents and teach them. We need to help them grow, so that they can make it even when weāre not there.ā
āBut what if something happens? Or if we mess up?ā
āWith the spunk they get from you, theyāll be alright,ā there was a hint of a smile in his tone. āAndā¦ even if we mess up, someone will love them,ā he paused. There was a swallow; something he didnāt quite want to say, so instead he whispered it. āMy father messed up, and though my mother loved me, it wasnāt enoughā¦ And yetā¦ I am lovedā¦ā
His hold of you grew stronger. Like for the first time in a long, long while he was scared, right down to his core. And this time, again, it was fear of you leaving him because he dared to be vulnerable.
But you wouldnāt.
You wouldnāt.
And the thought of your child being loved, as long as they grew to be a good person, calmed your mind.
āWeāre in it togetherā¦ā he continued with feather light syllables against your skin. And that whisper, those delicate syllables that barely graced you, brushed away the frost that had prickled your skin, leaving instead a warm, lulling sensation.
It was still scary, and it would be for a while longer. But. For what it was worth. Itād be better over time, and youād figure it out. Together.
Youād do your best, and heād do his, staying by each otherās sides. Which was all any parent could hope to do, their best.
a/n: it's finally the 4th here my people, and on this day several hundred years ago, we were all blessed with a gem of a person <3 @arcanestage this one's for you my love, i'm so inexplicably grateful to have gotten the chance to know you and i wish you nothing but the very best always š this is the first of a fairytale au! series, alladdin inspired, and i hope that if nothing else, it at least makes you smile!! (also everyone go wish her rn if you haven't already or else š¤š¤)
nozel silva ā ( how i soften when you pull me against you )
"do you trust me?" he asks, with a certainty you've only known love interests from the stack of romance novels by your bedside to have.
"not at all." you accept his outstretched hand, raising a leg onto the railing of your balcony. nozel's arm supports you onto the back of the large, silver eagle easily. it doesn't take long for the birdāshaped met to begin moving ā the surface feels sturdy under your feet, somehow comfortable too, and the breeze pleasant rushing past your face. "but perhaps i am finally taking you up on your offer to kidnap me."
he scoffs, and you are quick to catch the hints of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "well, it's not an offer many would make."
the humiliation he'd felt at being caught sneaking out of agrabah's new art gallery with stolen art in his arms ā and by the princess herself, at that ā nozel remembers, had been brutal. then being caught in his lie of being a professional assassin to scare you off, and following that the empty threat to kidnap you ā what would he do with a princess when the job had been to sneak out the odd piece of abstract art? would the ransom be worth the price the sultan would put on his neck? he thought himself above labelling prices on human lives, at the very least ā all that aside, that day should've been the end of his career, really.
he'd never expected you to let him go, correctly identifying as a mercenary and even helping with a distraction for his escape ā with the simple explanation that you hated the stolen painting with a seething passion.
recalling the smug grin on your face, he wouldn't have been surprised to find that his contractor for that job had been one of your own men. the beloved innocent princess of agrabah, organising a heist to remove a horrid painting from the national gallery ā what a headline.
you grin sweetly, faux innocence evident in your features. "not all kidnappers are as kind as you, your highness."
his face burns, and he is eternally glad for the darkness ā this is, after all, the second time you've caught his act. he'd been parading around the palace, all dressed up as a prince for the newest job, unaware of your eyes fixated on his familiar gait.
your father the sultan had caught your lingering gazes on him and reached the conclusion farthest from the truth, mischievous glints in his eyes as he asked how the pair of you knew each other.
your steady gaze on nozel didn't falter at the slightest as you answered truthfully, the art gallery, papa.
you had later, in private, jokingly asked if his job this time was to whisk you away, only for him to reply with a shake of his head no, instead telling you, though that may be arranged.
he rolls his eyes, unimpressed. "it isn't an offer many would accept, either."
"well, not all victims are as exciting as i."
the eagle takes a dip, eliciting a yelp from you, and instinctively, your fingers reach out for him. your hand grabs onto his forearm in your surprise, and you send him a clear if i go, you go glare.
nights in agrabah, nozel finds, are as cold as the days are hot ā well equipped with this knowledge, you've brought along a shawl with you. he, on the other hand, stands atop the flying eagle with the chill seeping into his bones with frightening ease.
cautiously, you lower yourself until you're seated on the eagle, your fingers pulling on nozel's sleeve to urge him down beside you. after a moment's hesitation, the pair of you are comfortably sitting side by side, silence threatening to drown your conversation into the dark of the night.
your arms rise to move your shawl from your shoulders so it covers you both.
the gesture has his eyes widening, and for a moment you wonder whether it was the wrong move ā his body stills at the fabric's scent of roses and jasmine, likely from the flowers you care for in your room, suddenly invading his senses relentlessly.
you are evil, nozel decides. wicked.
the words caught in his throat for this long are now let free, a different sort of warmth rising to his cheeks. "happy birthday, princess." a particularly strong gist of wind brushes past you, the shawl nearly flown away as you attempt to process the mercenary's words. he clears his throat, "i thought you might enjoy a touch of..."
"memento mori?" you offer, your humourous tone bringing a small laugh of disbelief to nozel. flying so high, and with his dauntless nature regarding the bird's speed, the idea had definitely crossed your mind a few times.
it's enough to deflect his attention from the heat rising up your face, at least.
nozel shakes his head, language seeming to have forsaken him the moment your fingers brush against his. "of something new," he corrects.
you absently reach out for rajah to your right, wanting to curl your fingers in his soft fur and calm the pounding of your heart.
you suppose it would be fine to...settle, for something else, for now. hesitance lacing your actions, you place your hand in the space between you and nozel. your pinky finger brushes against his.
your stomach flips.
his hand inches closer to yours, just barely letting your finger rest atop his.
you curl your pinkie around his, carefully, not daring to let your eyes meet.
sharing the sentiment, nozel tightens his grip on your finger, breath bated.
this moment is yours alone, to cherish and to keep ā under a sky littered with twinkling stars and the moon full, your hearts in tandem giving way for a tender seedling of warmth, of innocent fondness, to blossom in the midst of the harsh deserts of agrabah.
Art Dump during med times @thurilostiel - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
