#( muse; wolfgang )

[confusedlucifer]

i am working on yet more they/them titty at the moment and also one where they become a knife block

im also chipping away at a little two panel first meeting thing but cant quite figure it out yet. been having a great time constantly having like 3 active wips sitting around and gathering ideas until theyre ready to be finished

[sanctumofeld]

The Price of Freedom

I subjected @spellbladerogier to this, now I'm subjecting all of you to the pain of Wolfgang's 'True Ending'.

Read more for length:

Wolfgang does not know he is the son of two gods: Mekauros, God of Whispers, Secrets, Creatures of the Night, and Spiders; Yris, Goddess of Rivers, Rain, Medicine, and Dance. He does not know he is an Empyrean. The first time he goes to take the Elden Ring, under a promise he made to a young lady in desperation, he walks beside the first Elden Lord. He does not tell him of the oath, does not strain his already heavy shoulders with questions, but fights beside him…

He must sacrifice the girl, the young lady, at the pinnacle of flame, and is held back only by the Lord he followed. The one he loved. They go to defeat death, then an old friend, and then – His son, driven to madness over the ash they unleashed upon the capital. Over the great, golden tree that is roaring with great, devouring flames. In the end, they both perish, and it is only Wolfgang… He ushers in an Age of Dusk, in remembrance of his lover.

But no – no, this is not how the story ends!

He will not let it end here. He takes the rings, enacts the Law of Regression.

The clock turns back.

Reverses.

Start again.

Over and over.

The journey changes, the ending shaped each time by his choices, but they are always wrong. Not enough. For the bright and vibrant, aggrieved spellblade; for the mistress of the golden son, lying in her own deathbed; for the General with his lion’s red mane and the stars at his behest; the man who would never be allowed to be anything but a boy and the sister who adored him enough to rot away; the mother of the moon, last Queen of her name; the serpent family but more doting and loving than any other.

The dreaming, moon-adoring doll, the half-wolf who loved her; two brothers forever separated by the tale their house told in blood. The Warrior Jar so bombastic, his enthusiasm unquenchable, spreading then to a vibrant lad, so much smaller and fragile. The sorceress and her hunter, her guile and his honor, their intelligence and stubbornness matched.

The blacksmith at his post, abandoned by all, shackled by a duty no heart should bear. The spirit tuner who stayed by his side, golden haired, and timid, save for the souls in her care. The old man, devoted to his books, scouring for every scrap of knowledge and wisdom that could be seen and heard. The merchant, sitting by his fire, always ready to share his meager belongings as if they were not all he had. The old finger reader, steadfast in her belief, but knowing – and telling – him to follow his own path.

The maiden who handed him a golden ring, who turned his runes to strength, who would turn her own body to ash in offering, because she believed him worthy.

How can he be worthy when they are all gone?

Or… is this all he is worthy of? The cold stone of their graves?

This is not what he chose.

Over and over.

In another life, he finds his hands enshrouded in great paws, with a head of horns brushing his cheeks and jaws. He loathes the scars, the furrows left in his face, but caresses his ivory crown of jagged spires. His shame. And yet, Wolfgang loves him all the more for them. Is this a betrayal of his Lord? No, he has not seen him, nor met him, in this life. He carries the weight of hundreds, now thousands, and he will not fail again –

But fail he does.

And those hands leave him once again.

Through every life he is hunted, by the friends he couldn’t save, the two lovers he abandoned. Their voices follow him through the Mistwood, over the rivers, into the canyons. Sometimes, they whisper in entreating tones, and other times they roar, they hiss and coil. He can feel Serosh’s talons around his throat, Godfrey’s fingers in his hair, Morgott’s nails trailing over his ribs. Roderika’s palm in his, Hewg’s scales brushing his knuckles, Rogier’s warmth pressed to his flank. Diallos’s head in his lap, Blaidd’s shoulders upon his chest, Alexander’s stone and earth hewn grip on his wrist –

They were beside him, assuring him, and then tearing him apart. He cannot remember if he killed them or not – divining out some answer from their blood – no, no, he would never! Had… never… The roots that ensnared Rogier tighten in his lungs, rooting deep in the marrow between his limbs. Or… were they the lives in which they clung to him? Their weight, their breaths, their souls embrace him. Suffocating him. Roderika looks at him strangely now. He hasn’t found it yet, hasn’t discerned what it is, what stops the world, and allows it to twist on without –

He kills. And he kills. He touches Roderika’s hands with the same that murdered her husband – Kale – now nothing more than a bell he hands to the Twin Husks. Was this Melina’s fate? She regards him with weariness as well. The descent, the call, he can feel the flicker better than he can see it. Fire. A burning, grasping, hungry flame that writhes and yet whispers in hushed tones. Perhaps… That is the key?

He knows the descent. He assured Melina once, long ago, that he would never make it again. He broke the vow that day. But he will not the one he made to her:

“To the foot of the Erdtree.”

To the foot of the hell where they buried Kale’s people, where their song summoned something twisted and ancient, curled up in the darkness, but never lost to it. They should have known. He hits the bottom, the rubble whirling around his ankles, and his hands reach for the clasps of his gauntlets. Further, up along his breastplate, leaving a stream of armor from the drop to the mouth of the door.

The cardinal sin flays his arms, his chest, and something deep, deep in the darkened depths of his soul screams. He awakens with the fire, Frenzied and stinging, emblazed on his body. The world burns.

Melina keeps her promise.

But her eyes are different, milky and dusk laden, dripping over his face. His fingers twitch.

One more.

One last time.

The flame is snuffed, his fractured body mended, the runes abandoning him – whisking back to their bearers.

He knows he must wear a different face for this. The Black Knife armor serves its purpose, of an assassin, of a thief in the night. He will be the villain of this play. And all the while, in the form of an Exile, he will give the players their lines, and move the pieces across the board. They don’t know it’s him, none of them do, their memories sealed by time and the passage of ages. Not till the very end, when the outcast in a maroon shawl, hiding his face becomes the dark armored killer before their eyes. But he has what he needs, every rune that could mend: Death, Order, Curse, Moonlight, and then, and only then, is his born.

At the foot of the Erdtree.

He brings them all together, letting them carve their way into his flesh, rippling through his muscles.

But Freedom does not come without sacrifice.

“Is something wrong, my love?” Rogier blinked. He had… What had he been saying?

“Don’t!” His throat still ached with the force of it, pushing out between bloodied teeth, sticking to his tongue. Strange, the last time he’d said that with such vehemence had been when D had left him. Rogier swallowed away the word, the implication, the weight that plummeted into his stomach.

“No, no, nothing. I just…” What could he say?

“Feel like you’ve forgotten something?” Rogier blinked again, taken aback, but his lover didn’t seem the least bit surprised.

“How did you know?” Diallos gave a shrug, though there was something somber to the motion, to the lilt of his smooth lips.

“I… well, to be honest, I’ve been feeling that way too lately, but… I can never place what it is I’ve forgotten.”

Diallos and Rogier owned a florist and dress shop on the east side of Leyendell, across from Kale’s store that sold general goods for adventurers from boluses to arrows, and darts and healing potions, supplied by the ever resourceful and adept Blaidd. He made good money, what with his wife, Roderika – now carrying their fifth child! – being a spirit tuner, and her adoptive father being the best carpenter in all the Lands Between.

Blaidd married the Lunar Princess just four years ago, and they were expecting their fourth child, just behind the triplets. The eldest was just like his father, always ready for a bout but sweet-tempered to a fault, while the daughters were as vibrantly crimson haired as their mother and just as mischievous to their Grandfather Iji.

The wedding had been quite the spectacle, with Pastor Miriel overseeing the proceedings, and the entire Carian royal family in attendance, along with a few… special guests. Radahn had sung for his little sister, a touching ballad that was equal parts a roasting and a tune of adoration. Ranni had cried laughing and then just cried, before being embraced by her brother. He had assured her that every child would have their own stalwart steeds straight from his stables when they were old enough to ride. Rykard, although wheelchair bound, had made the journey from Mount Gelmir with a massive retinue, and was quoted as having been “quite thankful”, that his sister was finally going to give him nieces and nephews to dote upon, as equally as she had young Rya, his eldest daughter. Blaidd’s entire body had puffed at the implication, and Lady Ranni was struck enough to flush herself.

He had, of course, given his own gifts in splendorous fabrics and baby clothes.

Queen Rennala had apparently given him playful chastisement for his choice of words, but did admit she looked forward to more grandchildren.

King Morgott the Graceful had arrived shortly after the proceedings had begun, making a silent entrance, but formally apologized for being late to the bride and groom. The nobility had been giving him awful headaches, but he had said he wasn’t missing it for the world. He gave an enchanted cloak, embroidered with lace from Limgrave, and a few children’s toys from the makers of Leyendell. Amongst the more unusual guests were found Miquella and Malenia, the former of which had gifted gowns tailored for Ranni made by his own hand, and a music box with the most splendid, charming tune. Malenia had, of course, gifted a blade to Blaidd, and assured him that his pups could study under her when they were ready. That, of course, sent General Radahn into a fit. Any child of Carian blood would be studying the sword under him! It turned into a boasting competition which continued well into the evening.

Further down the road, an explosion burst forth from a brightly colored fireplace, spouting a myriad of powders and dust into the air in a cacophony of colors. The blast was so powerful, it actually dislodged his feet from the road. Everyone rushed from their shops, observing the commotion, but more than a few turned back to their homes or businesses, and shook their heads. Lady Sellen had been experimenting again. Her husband, Jerren, standing on the front stoop, groaned and rushed inside to roar: “at least take it onto the porch, woman!” And there went another shouting match.

Their second born, a four-year-old girl named Capella, walked out, and looked both ways. Rogier doubled over, clasping Diallos’s shoulder, who also broke into a fit of laughter. Her usually dark hair was blown around her head like a sunflower, bearing more colors than any rainbow he’d ever witnessed, and her entire front was splattered much the same. He walked over with his husband, patting it down for her, covering their hands in the colorful powder. Sirius, their son of six years, finally appeared, but was no worse for wear. In fact, he was dressed well in linen shorts and shirt, with his leather satchel bag thrown over his shoulder. He patted his sister, who still looked rather frazzled. Jerren finally came out to collect his daughter, shaking his head, and thanked them.

“Tell Sir Kale I’ll be needing a new stove. Again.” He gave a nod to Sirius. “Be home before ten, aye?”

“Aye, father.” The lad scurried into the street in time to catch a gaggle of other boys, shouting and carrying armfuls of food, towards the Roundtable Hold. Rogier paused, turning to watch them, and smiled.

“Reminiscing, my love?” Rogier gave a low nod, linking his arm with Diallos.

“Yes, I suppose I am.” The Roundtable was no longer necessary in their age of peace, yet Gideon Ofnir maintained his vigil as its leader. However, these days, he worked more on training new incanters and sorcerers, archiving their great works, and acting as a sort of librarian. Some days though, just some, he indulged the local children with legends, using his magics to let the children fling themselves into mock bouts with legendary foes of old. Turned out, the old bastard was actually very good with young ones, and an even better storyteller. It was quite the spectacle he'd heard, though he’d not managed to catch a showing himself.

Rogier turned his head, spying –

A flame, dancing on the edge of a cauldron. What?

Melina waved back to him, his own hand in mid-air. Her light, odd locks bounced as she strode, wavering in the breeze. She’d be going to the Roundtable Hold too then, reading her books in some cloister, laughing as Sir Gideon did his tricks and dazzled the children. Had she been taking lessons from him too?

“Excuse us!” Diallos cut under a load of stones, hoisted by a great Omen in thick, cotton britches, and a red wool sweater. He gave a gruff snort, shaking his head, and continued on his way towards the opposite end of town.

“Poor man, do you think he needs some help?” Diallos shook his head.

“I think he’d be more annoyed if we made him stop to put it down. Having carried a few heavy loads myself, I’m usually not in the mood to set it aside before its reached its destination.” Rogier gave a laugh then a nod. Besides, he didn’t seem to be having too much trouble with it and made it safe and sound to the outer embankment from what he could see. Were they still repairing that wall? It felt like it had been damaged for ages.

Wait – Still?

The world tunneled, then twisted, sloping into a series of gold and grey, a murky image of a shadow dragging across the buildings. His heels and feet slid at the same time, to the side rather than forward, an itching building into his ankles that erupted up into his knees. He could feel it, twisting. Writhing. Straight towards the center of his chest. But it was the darkness, the jagged splinter of stone that wasn’t stone, the skeleton and the body that jutted forth from his memory. Or was it a dream? What was –

“Rogier?” He shook his head.

“Yes, my love?” He just managed to bite back the quiver in his voice.

“Juno will be coming to dinner. He’s been gone so long, having had to guard that caravan from the north, but he’ll be back this evening! He sent word ahead. Apparently, the merchants gave him a bottle of spirits for his services, a special vintage from the Land of Reeds.” Diallos spoke in such warm tones, guiding his steps on a road he couldn’t have walked more than… ten? No, a thousand times. It must have been. “I’m told it would go well with a side of fish. What say you? I’m sure Lord – I mean, Sir Loux,” Rogier was fairly certain he wouldn’t like being called ‘sir’ either, or that ‘Loux’ was necessarily his last name in that sense, “is still open for business.”

“Yes, yes, quite right. I’ll go pick something up.” Diallos beamed at him, leaving his side at the crossroads, the imprint of his hand on Rogier’s sleeve in… red.

“The tale of House Hoslow is told in blood.” When had he first heard those words?

Rogier made the journey towards the entrance of the city, strides heavier, lighter, treading beneath a shadow, and then not. He was certain it was just the glare of the sun, the speckles behind his eyes, but the brim of his hat was too wide for such nonsense. His fingers, stained in blue and white and black, gripped tight to his forearm over the residual warmth Diallos had left through his sleeve.

Merri? Hadn’t Merri mentioned something about the Land of Reeds? Yes, she’d wanted to go, make a boat, and sail but –

Why hadn’t she? She wasn’t a young woman to be trapped, harnessed by either the wind or sea, but… She remained, still, in the Lands Between. He’d seen her, more than once, bothering her father, asking him about the world beyond. And yet, she had not gone to see it herself. Rogier caught her, sinking her toes in the dirt, squeezing them between the grains, biting her lip, and staring at the horizon. Why was she frozen?

Lord Godfrey, the first Elden Lord, had taken up his old moniker: Hoarah Loux. He lived by the sea, in a quiet, one room shack, nestled in a cloister of trees. It was said that King Morgott visited him often, no doubt asking advice on how best to rule the city, but… There were other stories, of something else shifting in the shadows to visit him. Someone else. But they were never seen. Always gone by daylight. No one bothered to figure out who it was, if it was indeed anyone. In their age of peace, there was no reason to spread cruel gossip of treason or coup d’etat.

The beast regent, Serosh, was his only companion these days, never straying from his side or the mantle of his shoulders. Rogier approached slowly along the beach, following the rocks down. He could see his back, the muscles roving as he reached deep into the surf, dragging a net up into his massive arms.

“M – “No, he was a Lord no longer. And yet, even as he turned his head, water glistening off his heavy, scarred brow, and over his wild silver hair, he thought he could see the glint just above his eyes of a band of silver and gold.

“Hoarah Loux! I come seeking salmon!” He did not smile, exactly, but there was the ghost of a smirk on his features. He dragged himself up from the shallows, hauling in his catch behind him, before swinging it over one great shoulder.

“Thou art in luck then, young spellblade!” Rogier hopped down a set of deep rooted rocks, dancing on the balls of his feet all the way to the shack, where the great Serosh laid out in the sun on a series of raised scaffolding. Godfrey bent down, reaching inside the mound of fish, and flicked his wrist to send one over to the lion. He caught it in his mouth without even opening his eyes, his great maw crunching down on all the little bones, swallowing the morsel whole. Rogier doubted that was much more than a small snack.

“I think two shall be more than enough.” He gave a small smile, one he had made time and time again, though for Lord Godfrey… Had he given more? The question comes, in the moments it takes for Hoarah Loux to select the fish he seeks.

“Shouldn’t you be… in the capital?” Not crouching upon its outskirts? Rogier gave a sheepish cough.

"My days there are done." He didn’t even hesitate in his motions, loading in the salmon with massive, scarred hands.

"So... why are you here?" Godfrey paused, raising his head, and turned towards the sea.

"I am waiting."

For whom? And yet, Rogier dared not ask, because his heart was in his throat.

Because he knew –

He was waiting for them too.

0-0-0

In other words:

Wolfgang lives through many, multiple lives till he goes mad, and does the Frenzied Flame thing. He is killed by Melina, but not before he hits the restart button. Again.

Afterwards, in this version, he collects every mending rune from every possible ending, even some I think aren't seen (maybe one from Rykard, or Mohg, or whoever else), which gives birth to his Rune. However, Wolfgang, through either guilt or grief, decides to give everyone a happy ending... but himself. As long as he stays away, no one will remember the hundreds, thousands of shitty past lives before, and they can just live in this happy utopia, worshipping their own gods, free and peaceful.

This, of course, comes with its own issues, but only because this means that everyone is doomed to stay in the Lands Between forever. Wolfgang, in the meantime, is journeying around the world, freeing people, helping others, and mending the land torn asunder by the Shattering and all that came before.

For characters who weren't mentioned: Marika, Radagon, D, Gurranq, Heysel, Atreus, Seluvis, Varre, Alexander, Jar-Bairn and Fia... I mean, depending, they got their own 'happy ending', but weren't mentioned. Lots of people already and I was losing steam because my throat hurts.

[curiosityshop]

“Like I said,” Sebastian says admiringly, his gaze lingering on @oddlies ‘ lips before looking into his eyes. His smile is teasing, eyebrow raised, as he hooks the other’s lapel with his finger to pull him closer. “Full of surprises.” // starter call!

[dxrknessembr8ced]

Once half of her power juiced up Hsien-Ko the T-virus afflicted Jiangshi immediately eyes wide, eyes flashing a red crimson glow that screamed hunger. Devour anything is all she can think about, murder is all she want to do as the virus within her force her to do one thing, to kill...

Large claw gauntlets emerged from her long sleeves, baring her sharp teeth while all the energy pumping up her within her T-Virus afflicted body the former Dark hunter have become predator, where her new targets in front of her are prey.

' HREEEAAAAAAAAERRRRK! '

Letting out a nightmarish roar that shook the two B.O.W.s. to the very core she is now ready to gouge their entrails and eat them alive.

Wolfgang realizing what Hsien-Ko is he step down and become more horrified at what is about to come as he quickly drop his own weapon telling Big Bang that they have to leave.

" A-AWW SHIT, IT'S EREBUS C'MON MAN WE GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE, LESS WE PAYING FOR THE PRICE! IT AIN'T WORTH IT..! "

" You fuckin' kidding me? you stupid fuck! We ain't going nowhere without the god damn titties and I don't care wh- "

' P P R R R A A A C C K K K ! '

" ......Hhrrg..?! "

The lard B.O.W. slowly stared down seeing his entire stomach ripped open, spilling out all those colorful organs from the Jiangshi's powerful attack. Then he stares at the eyes of Hsien-Ko, her gaze while she smile at her prey already bleeding out.

" Fresh...Meat...~! "

Hsien-Ko lunged at the B.O.W. tackling him on the ground with all her strength and she viciously ripped him to shreds, removing all his organs, slashing all over his body over and over again whilst she consumes his body in his final moments while Wolfgang watch in horror.

" FUCK THIS! FUCK BASKETS..!!! "

Wolfgang immediately ran away from the scene but Mei-Ling catch up to him, and she does what she does by slamming her fist at the back of his head, slamming his face on the ground while her sister enjoys her meal.

" WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING YOU PIECE OF SHIT?!?! "

Knocked back onto the ground face flat he got his face up trying to get away from the older sister.

" OH GOD- NO WAIT, PLEASE DON'T KILL ME C'MON MAN I'M SORRY- "

She grabbed him around his head, forcing him on his knees tightening her grip around him.

" SORRY THIS YOU FUCKING...- "

Mei-Ling slams her kneecap directly into his face, breaking half of his white smiling mask off revealing almost half his face.

' P W A A C C K K K ! '

" WHAT WAS THAT ASKING ABOUT MY TITS YOU DEPRAVED LUNATIC?! YOU ABSOLUTE WASTE OF SPACE! "

' P W A A A C C C K K '

" ASK ME AGAIN! TRY TO THREATENED ME AND MY BABY SISTER, C'MON YOU PIG!! "

She kept slamming her kneecap directly in his face multiple times while screaming and insulting him angrily while he moved a his hands around screaming.

The cephalopod child just watched both of her uncles being beaten up and maimed by the sisters and she's cheering on for those two sisters rather than her uncles. Hsien-Ko turned towards her sister whilst eating the organs from Big Bang's obese body while she too cheers on for her.

[writermuses]

[letbludcook]

warning. explicit sexual content

tags. creampie, slight dumbification, blud tried to be gentle only to end up ravaging you, idiots in love type of fucking

you and him having sex for the first time and he's so annoyingly gentle as if you're made of fragile glass. the fact that he still managed to make you cum with his fingers despite all that baffled you.

but then, just right after you came, he hesitates putting his dick inside. he gets out of bed, says something along the lines of "let me get us a bath," until he hears you huff a sob. he turns to you again only to see you touching yourself. begging him, perhaps out of spite, to drop the hesitation.

you're a big girl—his girl, even—and that means you'd be able to take all of him. you know what made him walk back to bed, pet your head, pepper you kisses, and mutter apologies?

"i've been prepping myself like this every night, been imagining you inside me for as long as i can remember."

you incoherently moan your grievances—of how much you need him, of how desperate you are to feel his dick slamming you, of your yearning to hear the slushing wet sounds of his balls slapping against your skin as he pushes even deeper, and most of all, of his cum flooding you at the peak of it all.

what a bad man he is, he thinks to himself, as he pulls your fingers out of your cunt. he brings it to his mouth, holding back a chuckle.

"prepping yourself with this, darling?" he muses, then sucks on your fingers clean, savoring your taste. you nod, pathetically so, and he shakes his head. "but these pretty little fingers are far from enough if we're talking about prepping."

it's the thought that counts, though—his gentle apology kiss on your hand tells you that much. and you quickly come to understand his point when he replaces your fingers with his actual dick.

"you see?"

then he thrusts inside.

god, it is indeed not enough to prep you.

"b-but, yeah," he rasps, then there goes another thrust, "it must be hard for you, no?" he thrusts again; you gape your mouth open, "never knew you like me—fuck, baby—this much."

hell you do like him so much; if you're not a babbling mess you'd be able to throw a banter, but he sucks on your nipple, quickly earning your forgiveness.

"mind repeating what you said earlier?"

which one? you ask in your mind, physically incapable to speak as soon as his fingers flick on your clit.

"you want my cum flooding you? you like me that much to let me do that, huh?"

"yes!" you wail, oh the things that could bring you back from being dumbed by this man. "b-been—hah—yearning for it, please."

his approving hum thereafter just tells how pleasured he'd be to do that. you really are no fragile glass he must mind touching. you're his girl, his woman, and you own every crevice of his body. if you wish a hard one, then a hard one you'll get.

it doesn't take long for him to lose control as per your wishes—his dick slamming, the wet slaps of your skin echoing inside your bedroom in synch with your cries and his growls. much to your pleasure, he eventually traps your legs down so it wouldn't escape as he cums.

you're trapped—helplessly bound, wrists on top of your head by his hand—because you want to. because you wish for it. when he buries his dick deep inside you feel his seed gushing, emptying, as he struggles to flutter his eyes open because he wants to see your face while he empties himself. it brought you to a seemingly endless bliss.

you two take your pretty time coming off your highs.

and despite your weakened state, you still sit up to look down as his cum drips from your cunt.

you giggle softly, thinking; this wouldn't be the last time you'd ask him to do this.

ERWIN smith, LEVI ackerman, WOLFGANG grimmer, KENZO tenma, GOJO satoru, AKI hayakawa, etc.

[xxsycamore]

Can you do Mozart & wet dreams?

Träumerei

╰┈➤ Mozart has never allowed himself as much as to think of her romantically. Strangely, his most recent dreams are all but lascivious, and twice as confusing. träumerei [noun, german] - dreaming

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart x MC • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Wet Dream; Mutual Pining; Feelings Realization; Denial of Feelings; Love Confessions; Miscommunication; Fainting; Hand & Finger Kink; Vanilla; Dream Sex; Ambiguous/Open Ending • wordcount: 1,104 • masterlist

• Welcome to my personal kinktober challenge, Visions of Temptation 2022 - that’s right, 2022. You can find the new one, Visions of Temptation 2023, here. DAY 3: WET DREAM

"Mozart… Mozart, touch me more with your hands, please…!"

It would be too easy, the composer muses in his thoughts, but he can't find it in himself to deny and tease her anymore. It warms him from the inside when she craves him so, his hands, his touch, so much that she's writhing underneath him. But when she lets out these beautiful moans, the spark of warmth blooms into a consuming fire.

"You love it so much when I touch you. You don't need to beg me. If you want me to touch you, then undress and show me where you need to be touched."

***

"No, that's all wrong. Did you not pay attention when I showed you? Here. Look."

Deft fingers dancing on the piano keys, Mozart repeats the chords with ease in yet another demonstration. His gaze moves on her even before the last notes can fill the air, making sure she's paying attention this time.

Even if it does things to his head, being this close to her.

Given that she was in his dreams just last night. Dreams that were not so innocent...

"I did, it's just… it seems like I was watching you play the piano, and not the notes you play. Tehee…"

His hands. He's not the type to seek eye contact, but more often than he catches her looking back, he catches her looking at his hands.

***

"I want more…I need more, please…please, Wolf!"

It catches him by surprise, how naturally it came out of her mouth. In contrast, her face is burning, gaze not as bold as her tongue, making him want to rain kisses on her hot cheeks. She needs to understand how happy she just made him.

He keeps moving inside her, gently removing the hands she tries to hide her face with. He needs to make love to her more, to give her more until she's pliant and spent and satisfied in his arms.

"You finally said my name." Betraying his own wishes, Mozart finds more appealing spots to press his lips against other than her face. Her neck, where her blood pumps in a rhythmic pulse; the metronome telling him to play her like a melody; to eat her one fang-filled bite at a time. "Keep saying it. I want to hear you say it more."

***

"Where do you want me to put those, Wolf?--Oh! I m-mean, Mozart! I'm so sorry. I didn’t mean to sound disrespectful! It just slipped out and-"

Something he didn't expect to hear outside those dreams that haunt him. Just an accident. Merely a slip of the tongue.

"That's fine, don't apologize. Are you okay? You're shaking."

She puts down the folded sheets where Mozart points her to, hurrying to find anything else to keep her hands busy with and mask some of that trembling. While nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she unknowingly barrens her nape for Mozart's gaze.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just…couldn't sleep well last night."

"Me too. Be careful not to overwork yourself."

***

"Wolf… I actually… have feelings for you-…No that's awful! Too straight to the point. Ugh. Wolf, I…."

Listening in disbelief, Mozart is overtaken by all sorts of emotions. Her confession came out of nowhere. But she's so finicky about getting it right, she just keeps saying it again and again.

"The truth is, ever since I came to the mansion, I found myself attracted to you and before I knew it… I was truly in love. I grew up with your music, and hearing it has always soothed me in times of- Nonono, what am I thinking? I grew up with it? I'm definitely not saying that part!"

And from finding himself embarrassed, Mozart now finds himself letting out chuckles he can't control, so much unlike him. His heart feels so light, glowing with the newly discovered reciprocation of his feelings.

"I knew that already… you were being pretty obvious, you know. To think that I doubted it still… Hurry up and settle on your confession so I could make mine, would you?"

***

Today she's nowhere to be seen, and for good. Downing another cup of coffee, Mozart hopes he could drown those pestering, illogical feelings in the bitter liquid along with what remains of his sleepiness. Concentrating on his work has never been this hard and he hates it; the sound of ruckus coming from downstairs joining in the cacophony of distractions until he gets up from his desk and goes to check it for himself.

He sees her then, unconscious in the arms of another man who luckily broke her fall. Somebody answers Mozart's horrified gaze with a brief reassurance that she'd most likely overworked herself and it's nothing any more serious than that. The residents are shocked when it's none other than the composer himself who insists he'll take care of her and carry her to her room.

It's maybe on the way there when he realizes, or maybe it's when he finds himself tucking her in under the covers.

Her room, that is adjacent to his.

Her bed, which is positioned in a way that is mirrored to his own, with only a thin wall separating the headboards.

His keen ear as a composer. One thin wall…

"M-Mozart…"

Her glossy eyes stare at him under heavy lids, gradually widening as if in disbelief.

"Idiot, you're going to work yourself to death. How long has it been since you last had an adequate amount of sleep?"

He's no good scolding for this with those most likely noticeable dark circles under his eyes, alas.

"Alright, alright, I'll rest! I'm closing my eyes the second you go through that door! Jeez…Hey Mozart?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for— Are you okay? Your face is red…"

It's funny how fast the tables turn when her hand touches his forehead in an utmost caring manner, and Mozart has to remind that she might be too warm herself to accurately check for him. And judging by the way she has the energy to frown and bark at him, it must be okay now for him to take his leave.

"I'm right nextdoor if you need anything."

"I know where your room is, Mozart…!"

"And one more thing." He keeps his hand on the doorknob, turning his head to look her in the eye one more time. "Next time you have trouble sleeping because there's something on your mind, just come see me."

The only answer he gets is a shy nod that comes after a rather long pause. And it's satisfying enough of an answer.

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran    @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 ​ @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @lokis-laugh @ndoandou Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[sparkliest-bard-bracket]

Congratulations to ✨FREDDIE MERCURY✨ for being crowned the ✨SPARKLIEST BARD✨ in all the land!!!!

🎶HE. IS. THE CHAMPION. 🎶

Over the course of this bracket, he has faced off against many worthy bards, including an inter-dimensional storyteller, multiple irl musical artists, an immortal musically talented war criminal, and a muppet, and he proved himself to be the most sparkliest of them all.

Excellent singing, excellent piano playing, excellent songwriting, excellent fashion sense, and overall ~glamour~, Freddie Mercury has it all. Here are some of my favorite of Freddie's bardly moments, and feel free to reblog and add your own to celebrate our Bardly Champion!:

And to honor Freddie Mercury's wonderful legacy, I present my favorite Bohemian Rhapsody video ever -- he didn't even need to be alive to have a concert!:

And while we celebrate and throw a Queen-themed party for our Champion of Bards, do not forget to give a round of applause to all of the incredible bards who participated in this bardly showdown!! You can find all of their names and fandoms, along with the full completed bracket under the cut :D

That's all from me for now, folks!! I may make a poll for 3rd place if people are interested, and if people are very enthusiastic, I might make a round 2: fictional characters only! Lemme know if you'd be interested in either of those things, and thank you oh so much for your support through this whole bracket, and have a wonderful day all you fantastic bards and bard fans!!!

Complete Bracket in image format:

And the names and fandoms of all of our bards from the whole bracket!:

Jareth the Goblin King (Labyrinth)

David Bowie (Real Life)

Thom Merrilin (Wheel of Time)

Gurney Halleck (Dune)

The Bard/Kiwi (Wandersong)

Daeron (The Silmarillion)

Callie Cuttlefish (Splatoon)

Finrod (The Silmarillion)

Apollo/Lester Papadopoulos (The Trials of Apollo)

Apollo (Greek Mythology)

Bill Cypher (Gravity Falls)

Chong (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Max Rebo (Star Wars)

Edgin Darvis (Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves)

Dimentio (Super Paper Mario)

Will Scarlet (Robin Hood)

Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem (The Muppets)

Link (The Legend of Zelda)

Katalina (Tabletop Time)

Starling Birdsong (Realm of the Elderlings)

Orpheus (Greek Mythology)

“Weird Al” Yankovic (Real Life)

Dave BruBot/The Major Player (Toontown: Corporate Clash)

Carrie Wilson (Julie and the Phantoms)

Kvothe (The Kingkiller Chronicle)

Elan (Order of the Stick)

Raz'ul, Son of Daz'ul (BomBARDed)

Edward Chris von Muir (Final Fantasy IV)

Binary Bard (Poptropica)

Christian (Moulin Rouge)

The Bard (Shovel Knight)

Fflewddur Fflam (The Chronicles of Prydain)

Man with the Harmonica (Once Upon a Time in the West)

Kyoami/The Fool (Ran/King Lear)

Diedrich Knickerbocker (Headless: A Sleepy Hollow Story)

Hannah Montana (Hannah Montana)

Bard the Bowman (The Hobbit)

Leliana (Dragon Age)

Sprig Plantar (Amphibia)

Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer)

Neil Banging Out the Tunes (Tumblr)

The Muses (Disney Hercules)

Robinton (Pern)

Thistle/Sissel (Delicious in Dungeon)

Loquatius Seelie (Critical Role)

Cicero (Skyrim)

Michael Jackson (Real Life)

Oli/TheOrionSound (Empires SMP)

Megamind (Megamind)

The Onceler (The Lorax)

Mettaton (Undertale)

Gamzee Makara (Homestuck)

William Shakespeare (Real Life)

William Shakespeare (Something Rotten)

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Classicaloid)

William Shamspeare (Ace Attorney)

Marceline the Vampire Queen (Adventure Time)

Brook (One Piece)

Gerard Way (Real Life)

Sea Hawk (She-Ra and the Princess of Power)

Snufkin (Moomin)

Frank Sinatra (Real Life)

Lias "Cliff" Bluestone (Discworld)

Rick Astley (Real Life)

Alan-a-Dale (Robin Hood)

Essi Daven (The Witcher)

Lúthien Tinúviel (The Silmarillion)

Stefen (The Heralds of Valdemar)

Roman Sanders (Sanders Sides)

Remus Sanders (Sanders Sides)

Bard (Crypt of the Necrodancer)

Kass (Legend of Zelda/Breath of the Wild)

Steven Universe (Steven Universe)

Glenn Close (Dungeons & Daddies)

Miss Piggy (The Muppets)

Nydas Okiro (Critical Role)

Charlie Pace (Lost)

Dob the Half-Orc Bard (Oxventure)

Kitagra (Kings of the Wyld)

Kaylie Shorthalt (Critical Role)

Father Gabriel (The Mission)

Gabrielle the Battling Bard (Xena: The Warrior Princess)

Haer'Dalis (Baldur's Gate)

Tsukasa Tenma (Project Sekai: Colorful Stage!)

Tom Bombadil (The Lord of the Rings)

Sylvando (Dragon Quest 11)

Steve McKenzie/Jester (Galavant)

Gieve (The Heroic Legend of Arslan)

Jaskier/Dandelion (The Witcher)

Kubo (Kubo and the Two Strings)

Guiliastes/Gui (1/2 Prince)

Rocky (Lackadaisy)

Asmodean (Wheel of Time)

Neil Cicierega/Lemon Demon (Real Life)

Kermit the Bard (Tales of Tinkerdee)

The Pied Piper (The Pied Piper of Hamelin)

Venti (Genshin Impact)

Sir Robin's Minstrels (Monty Python and the Holy Grail)

Oscar Wilde (Rusty Quill Gaming)

Franz Liszt (Classicaloid)

Eddie Munson (Stranger Things)

Puss in Boots (Shrek)

Freddie Mercury (Real Life)

Hoid/Wit (Cosmere)

Noise (Roleslaying with Roman)

The Amazing Devil (Real Life)

Klavier Gavin (Ace Attorney)

Rickety Stitch (Rickety Stitch and the Gelatinous Goo)

Ron Stampler (Dungeons & Daddies)

Thancred Waters (Final Fantasy XIV)

Raine Whispers (The Owl House)

Jack Black (Real Life)

Scanlan Shorthalt (Critical Role)

Éile (The Witcher: Blood Origin)

Hap Gladheart (Realm of the Elderlings)

Alastair Nobledrifter (Saving Throw - DnD Podcast)

Maglor (The Silmarillion)

Bill & Ted (Bill & Ted)

DJ Cadence (Club Penguin)

Imp Y Celyn (Discworld)

Bard Otter (The Last Dragonlord)

Yara of Nowhere, the Wandering Bard (A Practical Guide to Evil)

Dorian Storm (Critical Role)

Maria von Trapp (The Sound of Music)

Demyx (Kingdom Hearts)

Hisirdoux "Douxie" Casperan (Tales of Arcadia: Wizards)

Bilbo Baggins (The Hobbit)

BMO (Adventure Time)

[bucketkicked]

in an effort to downsize to muses I actually write/want to write, I’m removing a few (off of the muse page, I’m keeping their actual pages in case the urge to write them comes back):

ada strange

jean strange

wolfgang strange

ernest bosko

kyrie savva

penny penzik

And like all of my 90s-now muses.

I’m sorry if this disappoints someone, but I’m trying to make things easier for ME! 🤠 I’ve also decided to remove WIP muses off of the list to make things less cluttered.

[minkimoop]

Muse/Character List

(Edited July 25 2024)

3/5 slots are taken

✔ is a character I like to play

💛 is a character I would like to try or don't often play

✒ means that I have a plot idea for said character or fandom

💖 Is a character that I am itching to rp as.

🛎Is a fandom that I have OCs for

If you don't see a character or fandom you like, feel free to ask! I probably just forgot to put it on the list.

Anime Fandoms

Banana Fish

✔Shorter Wong✔✒

✔Yut-Lung✔

💛Ash Lynx💛

Black Butler

✔Sebastian✔

✔Undertaker✔

Bungou Stray Dogs 🛎

✔Dazai Osamu✔

✔Kunikida Doppo✔

✔Odasaku✔

💛Chuuya Nakahara💛

Code Geass 🛎

✔Lelouch Lamperouge✔✒

✔Euphemia Li Britannia✔

✔Shirley Fenette✔

💛Kururugi Suzaku💛

Fruits Basket

💖✔Ayame Sohma✔✒

✔Yuki Sohma✔

✔Hatori Sohma✔

💛Hatsuharu Sohma💛

💛Shigure Sohma💛

Given

✔Akihiko✔

✔Haruki✔

Ouran Highschool Host Club

✔Kyoya Ootori✔✒

✔Tamaki Suoh✔

💛Takashi Morinozuka💛

Yona of the Dawn

✔Jaeha✔

💛Shinah💛

💛Hak💛

💛Zeno💛

Video Games

Detroit Become Human 🛎

💖✔Connor RK-800✔✒

✔Hank Anderson✔

💛Markus💛

Ikemen Vampire 🛎

💖✔Arthur Conan Doyle✔

💖✔Leonardo Da Vinci✔

✔Dazai Osamu✔

✔Sebastian✔

💛Vincent van Gogh💛

💛Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart💛

Ikemen Sengoku

✔Mouri Motonari✔

✔Date Masamune✔

💛Oda Nubunaga💛

Mystic Messenger

💖✔Jumin Han✔✒

✔Saeran Choi✔

💛Zen💛

💛707💛

That's Not My Neighbor

💖✔Francis Mosses✔✒

The Legend of Zelda Series 🛎

✔Ganondorf (OOT,TP)✔ ✒

✔Ghirahim✔ ✒

✔Majora (MM)✔

✔Nabooru (OOT)✔

✔Zant✔

💛Impa (OOT,SS)💛

💛Midna💛

💛Zelda (OOT,TP,SS)💛

Television

Rwby🛎

💖✔Qrow Branwen✔✒

💖✔Ozpin✔✒

✔Lie Ren✔

✔Nora Valkyrie✔

✔Pyhrra Nikos✔

✔Weiss Schnee✔

Jessica Jones

💖✔Kilgrave✔

✔Luke Cage✔

Avatar the Last Airbender

✔Zuko✔

✔Sokka✔

✔Toph✔

💛Aang💛

💛Katara💛

Movies

Hunger Games series

✔Corilanus Snow✔

✔Haymitch Abernathy✔

✔Finnick Odair✔

💛Lucy Gray Baird💛

💛Peeta Mellark💛

[hyperions-fate]

See in each beginning, ending,

Double aspects of the One;

Here, amid stampeding objects,

Be among the first to run,

Thankful to a muse whose favor

Grants you one unchanging thing:

What the heart can hold to ponder,

What the spirit shape to sing.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, 'Permanence in Change' (Trans. John Frederick Nims)

[amplifyme]

Okay, so. Rules. Shuffle your on repeat playlist and post the first 10 tracks, then tag ten people.

Thanks to @randomfoggytiger for tagging me!

Emoji of a Wave ~ John Mayer

The Weight of Us ~ Sanders Bohlke

Heather ~ Conan Gray

Labyrinth ~ Don Davis

Landslide (Live on PBS in Boston) ~ Fleetwood Mac

I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me) ~ Morgan Harper-Jones

Clarinet Concerto in A Major, Adagio - Wolfgang Mozart

Let It Be Me ~ Ray LaMontagne

look up ~ Joy Oladokun

The Road ~ Nick Cave & Warren Ellis

For those curious few, the repeat playlist is titled Vincent & Diana. The muse approves. 😉

I'm tagging... @habitofmind @nobodysuspectsthebutterfly @kateofthecanals @daisies-cats-and-spacemen @storybycorey @dd-is-my-guiltypleasure @xxsksxxx @tossingmyglossymane @littlefeatherr @cecilysass

Don't play if you don't want to. No pressure.

[buckybarnesss]

on fire: a teen wolf novel chapters 17-19 and final thoughts previous chapter

it is done. the final installment of on fire is here and i am finally free.

thank you @dear-massacre for listening to me rant about this book and encouraging me to finish it.

and a thank you to @give-emhalekid for inspiring this re-read of on fire to begin with. i can finally answer your asks appropriately!

in addition to my notes and final thoughts on this novel i did make contact with the author nancy holder and have been sitting on that email for over a month now. so i'll be talking about that too.

anyway.

We start this chapter in Kate’s narration in yet another flashback to six years prior. This is when she gets information out of Mr. Harris. 

The bar is called Randy Andy’s by the way. Which, and it may just be me, makes me fully believe this bar is playing Brooks and Dunn's 1991 hit Boot Scootin' Boogie on repeat.

She mentions that Harris hadn’t seen her around the school but she had pinpointed him quickly as someone weak and that she could use. This tracks.

She gets what she wants out of Harris and as she leaves the bar (which is handily across from her apartment) she sees Derek leaving with his school bag. She freaks out worried he’s onto her or found something in her apartment. 

She follows him home just to be sure she’s in the clear. Like a freak.

When she returns she finds a note Derek left her explaining what happened. 

However, feeling as though she could’ve been exposed, Kate decides to up the timetable of setting the fire. 

Because we cannot have nice things.

We then get a small scene where she’s filling the gas cans and apparently Alt Version of Mr. McCall is the gas station attendant but he’s on the phone arguing with Melissa over money and blaming her for things. He's actually worse than canon Mr. McCall which I didn't think was possible.

Kate goes on to have her inner celebration and reminisce over her seduction of Derek. You know, just girlie things.

Once again the timeline is throwing me off. Holder places the Hale fire near Wolf Moon which makes the show starting around the same time a nice call forward but she also has homecoming around the same time. Derek muses about Kate being a chaperone for the dance and Laura is at school that morning to attend a committee meeting for the dance. For me, Homecoming was always during the Football season in September. Not that I ever went but this in January if it’s the Wolf Moon. Football season is over. This doesn't make any sense to me.

We finally return to both the present day and to Derek and Stiles. It’s been 84 years. I've aged lifetimes.

Derek tells Stiles that you can’t trust human women and leaves him once more as Derek has caught the Alpha’s scent. This is Bizzaro Derek.

Holder has given us two different wolf references mere pages from each other. She has Derek listen to Wolfgang Gartner and Stiles apparently playing Wolfenstein on his phone (this may be Wolfenstien RPG which apparently came out on mobile in 2008).

I looked up Wolfgang Gartner -- because this is what I do -- and according to Wikipedia the earliest single he released under this particular name was in 2007 which would be after the fire. He does however have a single called Hot for Teacher. I am going to fight the author.

We’re back in Scott’s narration now. He’s not having a good time. There’s smoke making everything hazy and he senses the werewolf that bit him. He calls it his “waking, walking nightmare.” and the wolf side of him is conflicted by the threat but also by the sense of pack. 

Through the haze Scott does see the Alpha and they make eye contact. Once again Scott refuses to kill like in Pack Mentality. He references the incident by name. 

A burning tree falls down because of course it does. Some of the sparks get on Scott so he has to remove his jacket and shirt. This is Teen Wolf after all.

Scott fights the shift trying to figure out how to save himself and Allison from the blaze.

Allison begins to become overwhelmed by the smoke and goes into a coughing fit.’ Which, heh, kinda fits with Scott having asthma previously before the bite.

Next chapter opens back on Jackson who is still having a very bad time. His vision is doubled and tripled as he passes out.

Scott remembers that Allison once did gymnastics and suggests that she use those skills to get out so he lifts her up and she somersaults out I suppose. Like a goddamned Power Ranger.

I swear Stiles is the author’s least favorite. Stiles hears a howl and begins looking for Scott and or Derek. He’s yelling for them both as he attempts to track Scott’s phone. Derek shows up with a “Yeah.” 

Though I’ll admit this exchange made me laugh:

“Yeah,” Derek said, bursting from the trees. He was wolfed out, and Stiles let fly with a high-pitched, girly scream. “Was that you?” Stiles yelled. “No, that was you,” Derek said in disgust. “I mean the howl.”

Derek tries to assure Stiles the Alpha needs Scott but Stiles reminds him that he doesn’t need Allison. Derek says he also doesn’t need Allison which is a sentiment that Stiles disagrees with. Canon Derek would never. 

They talk about mountain ash because Derek recognizes it from the pictures Scott was able to send. The explanation holds up fairly well to what we’re told in the show.

They find Scott and Stiles tries to instruct him but he’s in a state of panic. Derek points out that he cannot make sense of what Stiles is trying to tell him due to the panic. 

E x c u s e M e. What the fuck did I just read?

Stiles wants to call 911 so a fire truck can gain access but Derek warns against it due to Scott being shifted. Derek then takes a swing at Stiles, Stiles shoves him and Derek falls off the cliff. 

I am so tired. 

This is a Stiles accurate line at least: “So many times, Stiles had wished for Derek to up and die. But he hadn’t meant for him to really die. Except that maybe had meant for him to really die. Just maybe not in pain, and not in front of Stiles.”

Scott pounces on Derek and they tussle. Stiles is conflicted on who he’s cheering for. 

Scott doesn’t have a shirt on.

And a moment later --

“A wind washed through the tops of the bushes and showered Derek with fiery debris, setting his jacket on fire.”

Derek rips off his jacket (RIP jacket) and his shirt now leaving him also shirtless. 

I see you Teen Wolf. The Weather Girls It's Raining Men is the unofficial anthem.

Stiles calls 911 because he clearly is the one holding the brain cell.

We’re back to Allison. She’s running through the woods calling for help when she spots what could only be the Alpha as she calls it an evil animal. It stalks closer to her but it moves away and she sees the wolf that she and Scott had seen earlier. 

The “good” wolf’s presence seems to scare off the Alpha. It then guides Allison to safety. This wolf is never explained but it gives me Expecto Patronum vibes.

Except her safety is Kate. 

Allison is now lying her ass off about why she was at the Preserve rather than with Lydia and Kate’s questioning her hard.

I had forgotten about Jackson. The van exploded by the way as the police came into the parking lot. He feels momentarily guilty about Cassie then he promptly passes out, which honestly I don’t blame him for. He’s had a shitty day.

Meanwhile back at Werewolf Rumble Derek is able to bring Scott back to himself and just as they begin to try to escape they accidentally do the memory ritual via Derek’s claws accidentally slicing Scott’s wrist and you know what? I don’t care anymore. 

We get one last flashback to Derek and Laura post fire. They’re at their burned home and insane with grief. In the remains Derek finds that stupid ring he gave Kate because she’s so evil and terrible. Like. Fucking hell. 

We cut to Jackson being taken to the hospital and Lydia ignoring the paramedics to ride with him. He feels guilty about Cassie’s death and tries to convince himself there was nothing he could do. In truth, there probably wasn’t. He ends up wondering if Bailey had really known about his biological father.

Allison at this point does in fact find it sus that Kate just happened to be out driving to the fire but she doesn’t examine anything too closely yet as she finds Scott and Stiles. She’s relieved that Scott's okay. 

The book ends with Derek watching the scene from afar. Kate catches his eye and taunts him one last time because of course Kate does. Derek doesn’t respond. 

The final line is kind of baller though. “There are more of us, bent on payback. And domination. And death. And we are coming.”

Some parting thoughts:

I remember mostly enjoying this book back when I first read it upon it's release in 2012. I think it's because I was so thirsty for more backstory on the characters and more adventures in the world.

There's a post somewhere on my blog about the book somewhere but re-reading ten years later I was definitely more critical of it and found it to be a frustrating endeavor. Maybe it's because I'm older or maybe it's because the show is over.

Largely I think it's because the book itself had no real resolution. It couldn't but I'll explain that later.

Even if there's reason for the open-ended nature of the novel it's still genuinely frustrating especially because this is a stand alone novel with no follow up.

I thought there were too many flashbacks and not enough time spent on the actual plot. Jackson is the entire plot yet we spend very little time with him in the book and he never actually interacts with the main cast except with Lydia through a text. Fucking wild. Some of Jackson's best character stuff is when he's bouncing off the other characters so it was a real shame he didn't interact with them.

The biggest issue I have though is with Derek's characterization. It just doesn't even seem like Derek to me even early season 1 Derek. The whole human slander isn't ever a thing with him.

I loathed how Laura was handled. The information we have on Laura doesn't even fill a thimble but I'd rather not know a damn thing than this version where she said the word "mateable" and isn't all that bothered by her sixteen year old brother being involved with not only an older woman but a teacher that has authority over him. Her reaction shuts Derek down so he no longer expresses his misgivings. I couldn't tell if this was on purpose or not.

I also didn't like how Stiles felt like the unfavorite here. Holder, I think had a decent grasp of his voice, but not how others reacted to him.

I also have mixed feelings about the world building Holder did via the werewolves. There were aspects I did like but overall I found it too heavy handed and too patriarchal. I think the direction the show took it was better. Talia Hale is a much better and more interesting choice.

I still do not understand why this book was commissioned at all. It isn't canon and it doesn't even follow the plot of season 1. Basically this was a promotional tool that fell short in my opinion. A waste of Holder's talent and the reader's interest.

However, there are reasons for some of this though like I said.

Back in November when I was in the middle of the book I did some research because I was insanely curious as to why this book was written the way it was. I found Nancy Holder's website which had a contact form.

I screwed up my courage and sent her a brief message asking about why the novel only referred to the first 5 episodes while largely being it's own plot. It's very unusual for a tie in novel

She answered really quickly and while her explanation didn't surprise me it still sort of did.

Essentially she was given a lot of freedom in developing her own plot as she was instructed to not give away any spoilers for the second half of the season. Which is why there's hardly anything to do with the Alpha plot line and Peter is largely left alone.

According to Holder, she is the one who asked Jeff if she would be able to fill in Derek and Kate's backstory so that whole plot is her own creation and he told to "go for it".

I think a lot of fanon seems to possibly originate with her due to this freedom which is interesting.

She's a huge fan of Teen Wolf and I found it super endearing even if I didn't like all her writing choices.

In conclusion:

[oksana-moods]

Queens of Promise - Part 8

Summary: The search for the unknown has proven to be harder than one previously thought, however you had gone too far to back down now. From your search or from Wanda. A/N: Hey guys, sorry to leave you hanging for this part. There were some changes that I wanted to do, and I was also trying to decide on some details. Hope you like it! Thank you for all your love, it means a lot.

Warning: Violence, gore, mentions of blood, mentions of death – you know the drill by now.

Previous parts here

"Have only just begun"

Wolfgang City – Sokovia

The air reeked to smoke and spice as it would in every single closed place in this city. Their wine was one of the finest, even the cheapest ones, but people still prefer to keep their warmth by inhaling the smoke of their thick cigars.

And the spice? Well, everything had spice. Cigars, wine, food, clothes, women. Spice, after all, saved Sokovians banks through their darkest times and they were the paramount seller of the world. If the gold mines ran out of its material, the red and green powder would make the gold come to their hands.

The man you were after stood several feet from you, enjoying the pleasures of life. You and Barton had been doing this dance for weeks now, and you’ve been trying to take him down for a chat for days, but you’re yet to be lucky.

Every day a different commotion gets in the way of your plans, however, tonight, he’d be the commotion.

Soon, the man started to cough and looked at his cigar as if it were the cause of it. He gasped for air and his companions started to run erratically around the brothel while the woman keeping him company dragged him into a room with clear, open windows so he could breathe properly.

The room you were at.

An hour later, the man woke up and, much to his consternation, he was strapped into a chair. He swallowed hard and looked around the room as if trying to remember where he was and how he ended up in this situation. Then, he saw you.

Comfortably seated across the room, there was you, patiently waiting for your time to shine. You saw his eyes assess you and by the wicked smile on his face, he didn’t see the threat on your pose, on your expressions or in your eyes.

‘Men, why do they always underestimate a woman?’  You mused to yourself while closing the distance between you and your prisoner.

His smile never waved, if anything, it grew wider as you approached him. “Never seen you ‘round ‘re, doll.”

You punctuated his sentence by punching him hard in the face. His chair almost toppled over to the side such was the force of your jab. “Don’t be a freak kinky.” You spat at him as he tried to gather his bearings.

“I thought we agreed I’d play the bad guard this time.” Barton’s voice filled the room as he walked out of the shadows, and you looked at him.

“He pushed his luck too early for my taste.” You growled and Clint chuckled at your short fuse.

“Who ‘re ya?” The man asked, eyes darting from the man to the woman standing in front of him. Now visibly concerned about the situation he found himself in.

“I am your friend.” Barton pointed to himself and grabbed a chair so he could take a seat, then pointed at you. “She? Not so much.”

Though, Clint barely gave the man time to sink in what he had just said, for he continued. “You see, we were told that you’d know where Harv Krickitt is.” The man looked at him as if terrified by the name, so he asked. “And would be wise of you to tell us where he is.”

The man grunted and howled in his chains as if he could summon the strength of a god to set himself free, but nothing happened. The gods wouldn’t hear him now.

“I will tell you nothing.” He bravely snarled at Barton, and you rolled your eyes. Soon, his face turned sharply to the side after another punch found his jaw.

“You know, she can do this all day.” Clint said, patronizingly, pretending to be bored already.

However, before he could do or say anything else. The man started to contort again, but this time, only his head. A second too late, Clint realized what he was about to do, but when he reached the prisoner, it was too late.

“Hail Hydra.” Were the man’s last words.

Out of anger, you kicked the chair closest to you and it hit the wall nearby with impressive force, as it shattered on the ground, you shouted. “Again! We’ve been chasing him for days and now he’s dead. Just like the others.”

Lord Barton was more than used to your short temper that seemed to fade shorter with every passing day without answers. After the first lead they received from Romanoff, they started to trail their own way of investigation, but every time they reached another dead end. Literally.

Harv Krickitt was the artist who produced the lion pendant that was used both as target setting and payment for your head three moons ago. Therefore, he was the one who could point them in the direction of who asked for his services about the necklace.

Once they knew who had asked for the jewelry, they’d find the trail of the conspirator and the conspiracy itself. The only problem was the artist had gone missing and his family didn’t see him for a while now, hence the interrogations. Though they always ended with a dramatic hail to hydra.

The only positive prospect of this mess was that someone from the Noble House of Hydra was meddling and working from the shadows to keep things out of the spotlight. The question was why someone from Hydrarr Realm, let alone from such important family, would go so many lengths to interfere with Sokovian politics?

As the night advanced, they got rid of the body and returned to their “house” for this mission. However, as soon as they entered the brothel, something seemed off.

The ladies seemed tense, the men and women attending the house were forcibly enjoying their evening in a way that verged the suspicious. Then, you saw a blade and another. Before you could warn your friend, he was already drawing his sword and attacking the closest person his metal could find.

“Get him, I’m sure he’ll make a nice slave. As for the girl, you may have your way with her, then kill her.” A man with broad shoulders and thick beard spat orders to his goons as he strolled towards Barton, drawing his sword.

‘The nerve of him’ You mused angrily. ‘Do all men in this city underestimate women?’ You attacked the person closest to you, which happened to be a woman, but she never stood the chance. Nor your next opponent who tried to use a double hand sword in a place full of furniture.

Really? This was combat rules 101. Small blades for small places.

One single movement of your sword and the man was no more. You jumped over a sofa when two men tried to strike at the same time, the first lost his arm and the second his life.

From the corner of your eye, you kept track of Barton’s whereabouts, and saw him struggling with two opponents plus the big, bearded guy. The leader of this attack.

“Greygov!” Someone shouted and the bearded man turned just in time to block your attack. He laughed rather maniacally when he parried your sword one more time.

He invested, and with a start, you knew you couldn’t beat him in this sword game. So, you stepped to the side, grabbed his extended arm and climbed through his body using his leg as step and pressed your own legs around his neck in a chokehold.

Two heartbeats later and the man fell. Quickly, you pulled your sword again and rested your blade on his neck, while your hand kept a firm grip on his collar. He knew you had his life at the palm of your hand.

You had Greygov kneeled in front of you, his back pressed against your front, and you were about to slice the life out of him when he spoke. “You didn’t mention you were a weirded, fighter woman.”

“Conversation was short, if I’m not mistaken.” You supplied and he laughed, more like growled, louder than someone in his position should.

“Do it, girl.” He basically asked you to end his life.

What was wrong with these people?

Regardless of your intentions in conceding his wish, a clap of hands filled the room that death had recently claimed, except for you, Barton and Greygov, who was still kneeled.

The source of the sarcastic applause was the one and only Wanda Maximoff, who waltzed into the destroyed saloon with all her glory in a crimson red gown. Her hair cascaded down past her shoulders and framed her face flawlessly and her lips, they had never looked so red before.

She was a walking masterpiece.

For a second, your hand with a death grip on Greygov’s collar faltered. It’s been almost three moons since you last saw her, yet she was still the epitome of perfection. If anything, she seemed almost ethereal to you.

The intensity portrayed by her eyes were like a punch in your stomach, but you held her gaze, nonetheless. This woman did things to you without even trying and she didn’t even know the power she had over you.

Or maybe she did know and did it on purpose.

You wanted to smile but you bit back and remained stoic. Your face would not betray your heart.

“When I heard about two outsiders leaving a trail of corpses, never in my life I’d guess that it was you.” Wanda spoke solely looking at you as if her eyes could devour your soul right then and there.

“And here I thought we were being subtle about it.” You didn’t know whether her comment was coated with sarcasm or not, but yours surely dripped with it. Every single body was a message to the next victim.

“Why are you here?” She demanded but you wouldn’t back down.

“Could you show some manners, Princess? This is our house and these fine gentlemen decided to pay us a visit, though I must say we partied too hard tonight.”

“Enough.” She yelled and you blinked. She was tense and you could see it.

“Romanoff, take Greygov and whoever was left alive. I want answers this time. Remove his teeth if that means he’ll live long enough to share some of his memories with us.” Wanda’s eyes were dark and the man by your feet whimpered lightly when her gaze fell on him.

You couldn’t blame him, though. Few people wouldn’t cower under such scrutiny, for Wanda’s eyes were filled with pure power.

“I already took a few, but one could never be sure.” Your sly smile came to your lips almost involuntarily. You knew this would rile Wanda and the hell if you loved her hatred directed at you. Somehow, she was even more beautiful mad and angry.

If you couldn’t have her, at least you’d have her attention. Because there was something about her that made you desperate for her attention and you knew how short her patience was when it came to you doing or speaking infuriating things.

“You, outsider. Follow me.” Wanda commanded and, though you were about to throw a remark, you realized that she didn’t use your title. She didn’t reveal your true identity. So, you followed her.

On your way out, you saw Bishop already offering some bandages to Clint so your friend could patch up some of his wounds. When you locked eyes, you nodded at him.

Outside the two-store building that you and Clint were residing in for the past weeks, you saw two horses ready and waiting to be mounted. Two other guards were guarding said horses. The night was pitch black and there wasn’t a single soul walking the streets.

Though, one could never be sure, especially in this neighborhood.

You watched as the redhead mounts her horse, and you pick the other. The woman doesn’t even spare you a glance, so you silently follow her. Several minutes later, you’re walking on a different neighborhood, not that you knew which one, but the houses were bigger, fancier.

Then, Wanda drops to her feet and walk towards a specific house. The exterior was imposing, vibrating colors and the riches promised outside were indeed founded when you followed her inside.

The room you were at was rather small but beautifully decorated with paintings and tapestries. The details of the furniture screamed Essos design and, though you didn’t climb to the second floor, you knew the room above would be just as elegant as the one you were in.

The place was warm and inviting, especially after riding a horse in a cold night. For a stance, there isn’t smoke or spice impregnating the place. It was warm without using the common subterfuges.

“What is this place?” You asked, after taking in every single detail you could from the room you’re standing in. “And please, don’t say it’s a house.” You added mocking an annoyed tone.

“This is the type of answer you should expect from someone like you.” Wanda spoke, closing the door after giving some orders to her men. “I’m educated; therefore, I’ll clarify that this house belongs to the crown. Dignitaries or emissaries from other realms stay in places like this if they wish not to stay in the castle.”

“Fancy house.” You reply, still looking around. But this time you do so to avoid the weight of her eyes. There was an energy emanating from Wanda that you couldn’t put your finger on, but it was starting to feel overwhelming. “Does this mean I’m now your prisoner?”

“What?” Wanda tilted her head to side, brows furrowed.

“You took me from the brothel and brought me here. What do you want?” You asked, now looking directly at her.

“What do I want?” She snorted, exasperated. “Are you mad?” It’s possible to see her face turning red with anger.

You knew there were some flags about her stance, but you stood your ground. Wanda Maximoff could be stubborn all she wanted, for you were just the same. “I’m afraid I don’t follow, Princess.”

“What were you thinking?” She shouted, patience waning little by little. Wanda couldn’t, for the life in her, understand how you could be so blind. And stupid. “Coming into Wolfgang! Don’t you see how dangerous this place is for you?”

The northern princess shakes her head, it’s unbelievable how reckless you were. “Want to get yourself killed? To enrage your mother so she can march with the whole south until she’s breaking our necks with her bare hands?”

“Look, you don’t need to get so worked up. Barton and I were keeping a low profile, the corpses were there, but no one really knew that we were the culprits.” You rested your back on a table behind you, but your arms were crossed on your chest as if to protect you from her energy.

“You can’t parade around my city leaving a track of dead people behind. What do you think this is?” Wanda snarls, and it was plain to see that she was annoyed at your actions. But you couldn’t dwell on her wellbeing right now, there was too much at stake.  

“We were investigating, Wanda. Don’t know if you forgot, but last time you and I were in the same room a fucking assassin tried to kill us both. To kill me.” You shouted back, patience long gone. “Someone is playing with us, and I want to know who the fuck is.”

“And you think I’m not aware of this? But someone is bound to learn who’s behind this creepy investigation of yours. You won’t do this anymore, I demand you.” Wanda’s tone was enlaced with an emotion that you couldn’t grasp, her eyes burned but it wasn’t hatred anymore.

“Why not?” You ask simply, ignoring her demand. You wanted to get to the bottom of this, but you couldn’t if the princess kept interfering with your business.

“Don’t you see how dangerous this is?” She repeated, louder this time, frustrated with your lack of perspective. “You pulled off with Greygov’s men because they didn’t know who you really are, but they won’t hesitate in kill you.” Her eyes turned soft for the first time that evening. “And by the gods, if they ever learn who you really are, I don’t even wanna know.”

“What’s the matter?” You shot back. Her worries ignited some sort of fire in you, yet you didn’t have a name for it. The air was impregnated with some sort of tension that could be sliced with a sword; it was suffocating.

“What’s the matter?” She repeated your words, exasperatedly. “Are you insane? Or just can’t see past your reckless ass?” Wanda ran her hands through her hair, now beyond angry.

You smirked, internally, at her choice of words, the Wanda you knew from the past would never use such mundane words. Yet here she was, speaking freely like a commoner as she always claimed she’d never.

“If I get killed is just a win-win for you, isn’t it?” Your eyes were harder than obsidian, death never frightened you. Failure does. “One less lioness to kill. Don’t need to act like you care about-”. You could never finish your sentence, for she cut you off before you could continue your little speech.

“Only I care.” Her voice went from full power to small, devoid of strength, yet it lit the flames in your heart. “I wish I didn’t, but I do care about you.” Her green eyes bored into you with the same force as thousands of horses would.

They were limpid, crystal clear. She meant every single word.

Once more, everything was Wanda.

You lunched your body forward and kissed her fiercely. You poured into a searing kiss every emotion you’ve bottled up inside your chest and oh you saw heaven when she laced her hands behind your shoulders, pulling you closer.

“You’re stupid.” She muttered between kisses, and you smiled at her.

“I know.” You replied right before leaning in for another round of pleasure obtained through her lips. Then, both pulled back a little for air and Wanda rested her forehead on yours, eyes closed in a bliss.

“I’ve missed you.” You whispered, as if afraid of speaking any louder could startle her and she’d flee back to the walls she keeps around her heart. As if any louder could break the moment and you’d realize it’s nothing but a dream. Again.

Apparently, you shouldn’t have spoken at all, for a second later, Wanda pulled back as if your skin was setting hers on fire. You watched as she took few steps back, shaking her head lightly the same way one does when they need to focus.

“This is a mistake.” Her words pierced through your skin sharper than any blade.

“Wanda-” You try but she cuts you again.

“No.” This time, her eyes are sad, and she’s long gone back to the walls she built around herself. “You are the Princess of Taharr, and you’re not supposed to be here or doing what we just did.”

It’s plain to see that she speaks as if trying to convince or remember herself of the situation you were in. You wouldn’t forget your duty but couldn’t deny your feelings towards her either. There should be a way of doing both.

“You don’t believe that.” You tentatively try, heart pounding on your ribcage.

“I- I do!” She asserts, but you caught her light stutter. She’s afraid of something. The same thing that’s been holding her back since Fury Valley and your first kiss. “I hate you.” She vowed.

“You just kissed me.” You snorted, slightly confused at her sudden change of heart. It was easier to follow a whiplash than the woman in front of you.

“So what?” Wanda snorts but you see right through her. Trying to hide something, she derisively retorts. “Who said I can’t kiss someone just because I hate them?” The redhead flashes you a smirk but it’s all for a show.

Squinting your eyes, you ignore her snide remark for the moment and try to see past her words to grasp what was behind it. Her eyes, her stance… everything felt like it was backwards. She wasn’t just fooling around when she kissed you. You felt how she meant it, for her passion still burned your very own tongue.

You take one step towards her and try again. “What are you so afraid of?” Your voice was soft, you had never felt so vulnerable before as you do now.

“You.” It was your turn to be startled by her voice, or by what she had just said. “I- Yo-… I don’t understand the things I feel when I’m around you. Or with you.” Wanda voices, for the first time, out loud, part of all the trouble she’d been guarding inside her heart.

“Well, I do.” You take another step and lock eyes with the goddess standing in front of you. “I know that I never felt this way for no one and whenever you’re gone I just can’t-.” You search your poor brain but there aren’t words to express what you feel. You too don’t quite understand, you’re so new to this.

You’re so new to love, because all this time you’ve been doing war. Up and down. Left and right. Even the one thing that could resemble to love in your life was, in the end, part of a ploy. Politics.

“Can’t?” The Scarlet Knight asked, and her voice brought you out of your head, out of your search. Wanda looked at you curiously, and genuinely waiting for you to explain something that you couldn’t.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” You said, finally, and you saw the ghost of a smile gracing her lips, only for it to fade back into a thin line.

“You’re my enemy.” She says one more time and were you counting, you’d have surpassed the number of the stars in the sky with how many times she tried to remember herself or you of that little important fact.

“You sound like a broken tune, Maximoff.” A dashing smile comes to your lips as you remember the last time you spoke that exact same sentence to her. It felt like a lifetime ago, but her scent still invaded your nostrils.

Just like now.

Once more, you were one step away from her and you could see her eyes darting from your eyes to your lips. Searching for something that only the gods could know. Yet, you stood there. Waiting.

“You know what I hate the most about you?” Her eyes narrow, but you catch a hint of humor on her rhetorical, what makes your grin go wider. “I hate your perfect teeth.”

Your laugh filled the room entirely. You loved the passion seeping through every single word coming out of her mouth and you knew she meant it. Wanda never lied; she just didn’t understand that hate didn’t fit in it anymore.

“If you really hate me would be so much easier for you, wouldn’t it?” You ask shuffling closer to her, without taking a proper step. Wanda, much like a wild mare, tended to see danger on the slightest of movements. Or words.

“Who said I don’t really hate you?” The redhead dropped her hands to her hips, consternation covering her like a coat. The action made your knees weak, her beauty verges the unholiness.

Boldly, you grabbed her cheeks with your hands as to lock her in place. “If that’s so, look into my eyes and say it.” You defied, there was a confidence present in your words that you didn’t feel it in yourself.

But after so many years practicing to hide your fears and let people see what they expected to see, hide your true feelings was now an easy feature or accessible tool whenever you needed it. Like the exact moment you were in.

Your eyes focused on hers, and this close, they were bigger than the moon. Certainly, they could swallow you inside her pools without sparing you a second to think if you knew how to swim. Right then and there, they invited you to dive in without a promise that you’d ever come back.

As for Wanda, she felt as though her heart was about to jump out of her chest and every inch of her skin burned, a very good and pleasant burn, where your hands touched her. She could feel the softness which you held her despite your calloused hands.

She could see, written in your eyes, just how scary this was for you. It was scary, indeed. All Wanda had come to know was hate, yet she hated how fast her heart beats whenever you flash that smile, whenever your eyes tried to pierce her soul.

She hated how physically gut-wrenching her jealousy was the second she learnt that you were in a brothel, with so many women at your disposal. She hated how, whenever you were around, nothing else mattered to her.

She hated, foremost, how desperately torn she felt when, right after touching your heavenly lips with hers, she thought she’d lose you. Wanda Maximoff was scared that she wasn’t good enough to protect you. From the world. From herself.

“I- I-.” She tried, but again, the words faltered. Wanda closed her eyes, suddenly, too tired to keep trying to fight back the emotions hidden, buried in her chest.

“I hate that I adore you.” The statement seemed to resonate on the walls and lingered.

The redhead felt a pair of oh so soft lips touching her forehead tenderly, then your hands leaving her face. She had to physically stop herself from whining at the loss of contact, but soon your hands were back, this time picking her up bridal style.

She let her head fall on to your shoulder as you climbed the stairs. The bedroom was even more beautiful than you expected, but you didn’t have eyes for anything else other than the beauty resting in your arms.

Carefully, you lowered her and laid Wanda on the bed. You could see how tense and how tired she was. She deserved to rest. You brushed few strands of her silky hair out of her face just so you could engrave her perfection on to your mind, then, kissed her one more time and left.

Though, you couldn’t have gone so far but the door until her voice echoed throughout the room again and stopped you in your tracks.

“Where are you going?” She asked, already climbing off the bed.

“You’re tired.” You reply matter-of-factly as if this could explain your absence when the real reason was that now it was your turn to be scared. The things you felt for Wanda went beyond your imagination, but you knew you didn’t want to mess things up and treat her any less than she should be treated.

“Don’t leave.” Wanda asked, now closer to you. So much so that goosebumps shot up and down your spine. “Please.” A hand – her hand reaches, tentatively, for yours and it’s so tender and so warm that it hurts.

She makes you turn to look at her and, once you do, her eyes sparkled in the poor light coming from the fireplace in a way that was utterly unfair with your heart. She slips one hand over your cheek, and you lean into her touch as if touch-starved for centuries.

The thump of your heart was so loud in your ears that you thought she’d be able to hear it too. However, she rested her other hand over your chest, and she did feel the thundering going on beneath her soft palm. Her eyes trailed from her hand to your eyes in that inquisitorial way without saying any word and by the gods, you were metaphorically on your knees for Princess Wanda Maximoff of Sokovia.

Smut Part Part 9

Taglist: @californianwhiterabbit

[thekristinhersharchives]

Throwing Muses. Ticket and setlist in silver letters for the band's show at L’Elysée-Montmartre in Paris, with Pixies and The Wolfgang Press, on April 11th 1988.

via Jon Betts on Twitter.

[namesforwriters]

Music Inspired Names (masc)

Adagio ~ Italian, meaning "slowly."

Derived from the musical term "adagio" indicating the tempo, or speed, at which a piece should be played. Adagio indicates the tempo should be slow and with great expression. pronunciation: ah-dah-jee-oh

Allegro ~ Italian, meaning "cheerful," "lively," "playful."

Derived from the musical term "allegro" indicating the tempo, or speed, at which a piece should be played. Allegro usually indicates a lively and fast tempo. pronunciation: ah-leg-grah

Alto ~ Italian, meaning "high."

Alto is a term used to describe a pitch range in music. "Alto" is usually the lowest range of a female vocal range, and second-highest in general, but some instruments are tuned in the alto range as well, including the viola and alto trombone. pronunciation: ahl-toe, al-toe

Amadeus ~ Latin, "loved by God," "love of God."

The most recognizable person with this name is the famous composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, a musical genius and prolific composer in his life time. Born in Salzburg, Mozart is considered one of the greatest composers in Western classical music. pronunciation: ah-mah-day-oos

Antonio ~ Italian, meaning "flower," "priceless."

Antonio was the given name of famous Italian composer Antonio Vivaldi. Vivaldi's most famous composition is titled "The Four Seasons," a series of violin concertos inspired by the seasons of the year. pronunciation: an-toh-nee-oh

Apollo ~ Greek, meaning "to destroy," "redemption."

Apollo is a major deity in Greek and Roman mythology. On top of being the god of light, prophecy, and archery, he is also the god of music and the leader of the nine Muses. pronunciation: ah-pahl-low

Bardo ~ Irish, meaning "minstrel," "singer-poet."

Related to the term "bard," this is a very musical name. Bards and minstrels were musically talented storytellers and poets in medieval Gaelic and British culture. Shakespeare is known as "The Bard of Avon." pronunciation: bar-doe

Bragi ~ Norse, meaning "poem," "melody," "wise."

In Norse mythology, Bragi is the god of poetry renowned for his wisdom and fluency of speech. Bragi is especially associated with skaldic poetry, which often honored kings, and was more stylistically ornate than Eddic poetry. pronunciation: brah-gee

Brio ~ Italian, meaning "vivacious."

Brio is a term usually shortened from "con brio," which is a musical direction term. It indicates that something should be played with vigor, with spirit, with vivaciousness. pronunciation: bree-oh

Canto ~ Latin, Italian, meaning "song," "singing."

Derived from both the Latin and Italian words for songs and singing, canto was a form of medieval and modern long poetry. The canto form usually meant the poetry was meant to be sung by a minstrel to accompaniment rather than dictated. pronunciation: cahn-toe

Carmine ~ Latin, meaning "song."

Originally a Latin name related to the word for "song," Carmine is also the name of a famous contemporary film composer, Carmine Coppola, who composed the score for the Godfather films. pronunciation: car-mine

Chevalier ~ French, meaning "horseman," "rider."

A title of French noble distinction, Joseph Bologne, Chevalier de Saint-Georges was the first composer of African heritage to achieve acclaim and fame in Western classical music. He was also an accomplished dancer and fencer. pronunciation: sheh-val-ee-ay, sheh-val-ee-er

Claude ~ French, meaning "enclosure."

Claude is the given name of the famous composer Claude Debussy. Despite his modest background, Debussy was admitted to the Conservatoire de Paris. He pushed the boundaries of classical music at the time, and his most famous composition is the piano piece "Clair du Lune." pronunciation: claw-d

Dorian ~ Greek, meaning "gift," "of Doris."

Dorian is a term a few things in the world of music. Usually, "dorian" is a term used to describe a type of scale (a series of eight octave notes played one by one in a minor chord) pronunciation: door-ee-en

Herod ~ Greek, meaning "song of the hero."

This name originates from Ancient Greece and literally means "song of the hero." For that reason, it makes "Herod" a very musical name indeed. pronunciation: hair-odd

Linus ~ Greek, meaning "flax," "flax-colored."

In Greek mythology, Linus is the son of Apollo and the first leader of lyric song. In some myths, his musical talent rivaled that of his father, so Apollo killed him. In others, Linus is the music teacher of both Orpheus and Heracles. pronunciation: lie-nus

Locrian ~ Greek, meaning "of Locris."

Locrian, like "dorian," is a term used in music theory for a type of musical scale (a series of eight notes played in an octave one by one. A locrian scale is more complicated than a dorian scale. pronunciation: low-cree-en

Maestro ~ Italian, meaning "master," "teacher."

Similar to the musical direction term "maestroso" meaning to play a piece with majesty, "Maestro" is also an honorific given to a conductor or director. pronunciation: mai-stroh

Mesto ~ Italian, meaning "sad," "pensive."

A music direction term, seeing the term "mesto" indicates that the piece should be played with a sad, mournful quality or tone. pronunciation: mess-toe

Octavian ~ Latin, meaning "the eighth."

Octavia is a name taken from the Latin octave, meaning "eight." In music, an octave is a range of typically eight notes. The first and eighth note are always the same, with one higher than the other in pitch. pronunciation: oct-ehve

Opus ~ Latin, meaning "work," "work of art."

In Western classical music, composers would often number their compositions and works. For example, the first movement of Beethoven's 5th Symphony is titled "Symphony No. 5 In C Minor, Op. 67 "Fate." This means this is Beethoven's 67th composition. pronunciation: oh-pus

Orpheus ~ Greek, meaning "orphan," "best voice."

Orpheus was a Greek hero who helped Jason on his quest for the Golden Fleece. Following the quest, Orpheus journeyed to the Underworld to recover his love wife, Eurydice. Orpheus was an amazing musician. pronunciation: or-phee-us

Reed ~ Old English, meaning "red."

In music, a reed is a mouthpiece with which certain instruments are played, including clarinets, oboes, bassoons, and saxophones. Reeds are usually made of grass cane or wood and come in different strengths. pronunciation: reed

Vesper ~ Latin, meaning "evening."

In Western classical music, a "vesper" or "vespers" is an evening song or composition. A vesper is traditionally an evening prayer. The most famous "vespers" composition is "All-Night Vigil," a choral work by Sergei Rachmaninoff. pronunciation: ves-per

Vox ~ Latin, meaning "voice."

Coming from the Latin word for "voice," this is very much a musical name, one for singers and orators in particular. pronunciation: vox

These name lists are intended to help writers and artists. There is no expectation of credit, and these lists aren't meant to be the end-all be-all lists of possible names. There are millions out there, and this is just for fun!

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And if you see something that is wrong (a pronunciation, a meaning, an origin), again, feel free to let me know!