#LABYRINTH CADENCE

[starstwinkleplanetsshine]

Daughter of the Sea

This one is dedicated to @aswallowssong. Thanks for being the Cady to my Angie, and thanks for trusting me with your beloved daughter of Apollo. It's been a blast getting to know her <3

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Drachma for Your Thoughts (Read on AO3)

“Drachma for your thoughts?” 

Cady’s voice pulled me out of my swirling head and back to where we were sitting on the beach. It was well past curfew, but Percy had left earlier that evening with Nico to finally start the plan that the son of Hades had suggested almost a year ago now. A plan so dangerous, so insane, that the mere thought of my brother going through with it meant I had been on the verge of a total breakdown all day. So when I showed up to the infirmary well past midnight, my eyes bloodshot and my hands trembling, I didn’t argue when Cady suggested we take a walk to the beach. 

The harpies hadn’t been very active this summer, anyway. 

“I’m just thinking about how in a week all this will be over.” I kept my eyes on the dark waves in front of me, but I could feel that Cadys’ were trained on me. I wished I could just walk into the sea and run away from it all, but I knew things weren’t much better under the waves. 

“Four days until your birthday.” Her voice was more somber than I had ever heard it. What she should’ve said was “four days until Percy’s birthday.” It didn’t matter that we were twins. His was the one that counted. 

“Four days until the end of the world.” I was trying to make a joke, but Cady didn’t laugh. 

“Do you ever think about the mortals?” I asked after a couple minutes of the waves being the only sounds between us. 

“What?” 

“They have no idea their whole world is hanging in the balance right now. They have no idea what's going on, the war we’re fighting, the battle that will determine the fate of…everything. They have no clue what we’re about to do for them. They just think there’s some really bad storms.” My words spilled out and I didn't try to stop them. There was no point censoring myself with Cady. 

She was quiet again before chuckling lightly, which caught me by surprise. “I think about them all the time. I think…I think that’s who we’re really fighting for.” 

I finally turned my head towards her, and I could see a look of resolute determination on her face in the pale moonlight. 

“We have to fight for those who can’t fight for themselves,” she continued, “whether that’s the gods who are too busy or mortals who can't know the danger they’re in.” 

I let her words settle on me as a smile crept onto my face. I thought about how much older she looked in the shine of the silver moon, and how much she had taught me about the world we shared in the past year. So much of the half blood I was, or was becoming, was thanks to her, Percy and Annabeth. 

“That’s very heroic, Cady.” 

She shrugged, her expression unchanging. “It’s our job.” 

I had never thought of it that way before, but as soon as she said it, I knew it was true. If demigods had one purpose in the world, it was to span the gap between the gods and mortals—to fight both of their battles. It always had been. 

My gaze wandered from the waves to the sky above and I began absentmindedly searching for stories in the sky, the ones that Annabeth had taught me—anything to get my mind off everything that had happened that day. My eyes landed on a new constellation, the form of a hunter who seemed to be a little older than a girl—Zoë. Percy had told me about her, how she was a Huntress of Artemis who had died fighting the Titan Atlas while defending him and, ultimately, the gods. 

Her place was in the sky now, as Beckendorff’s was underground. Along with Lee Fletcher. And Castor. And so many others that had been lost in the past year. 

Would I, too, find my own place amongst them soon? Would I join my namesake in the sky with my brother close behind as our souls found their way, hopefully, to Elysium? 

“I only met her once.” Cady’s voice once again saved me from my thoughts. I peeled my eyes off the sky and turned to her. 

“The Hunter?” 

She nodded. “I saw you looking at her. She was strong, and brave, and very wise.”

“Do you think we’ll end up there someday?” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them, and Cady furrowed her brow. 

“Angie…”

“I guess there’s already an Andromeda constellation, so probably not—” 

“Angie!” Cady cut off my pathetic attempt to downplay my question. “Why would you say that?” 

I met her eyes and immediately wished I hadn't. Something about them made me drop the walls I always had up. Maybe it was because I was so close to the sea, which always made me feel more honest. Or maybe it was the inherent vulnerability of being under the night sky after midnight. Or maybe it was just because Cady had become the closest thing to a sister I had in the past year. 

But whatever it was didn’t matter as I let out a heavy sigh and took a deep breath. 

“I don’t think I’m walking away from this, Cady.” 

Her eyes got sad. 

“You’re gonna be okay.” 

I started getting flashbacks to my conversation with Percy just the night before that had sounded a lot like this. I heard his words echoed in my own.

“I wish I could trade places with him. Take what is supposed to be his.”

The words were a lot harder to say than I thought they would be. Cady was quiet, but I knew she understood who I was talking about.

“It should be me, anyways.” I finally got out. 

“Why would you say that?” 

“Can you imagine a world without Percy?” 

Her eyes fell to the sand and she took a deep breath before answering. “No.” 

I wondered if she was remembering those awful two weeks last summer like I was. The time we feared we had lost him for good. 

“Me neither. I don’t…I don’t think I’m supposed to live in a world without him. I don’t know how to explain it, but I just know. So if that means I give my life so he lives, it’s what I’ll do.” I had never been more sure of anything in my entire life. 

“Angie—“

“No, Cady. I’m serious.” I met the girl's eyes, and all I saw staring back at me was fear. And pain. And heaviness. Eyes that were usually as bright as the sun, kind and shining with her father’s light, were as cold and dark as the moon. 

“It should be me.” I kept talking in the heavy silence. “Percy’s the hero, he’s the one everyone needs. If he was gone, camp would never be the same. You know it’s true, you felt it last year. Everyone would be…lost.” 

Cady looked like she wanted to say something, but stopped herself. 

“No one needs me that way. Maybe…” tears filled my eyes as I started to verbalize the one thing I had known for so long, but could never utter, “maybe that’s why I was sent here so late. Maybe that’s my destiny. To save my brother, the real hero, so he can fulfill his purpose. Fulfill the prophecy. Maybe I’m supposed to be the spare. And—” my voice broke— ”maybe that’s not a bad thing.” 

“Angie, we’ve talked about this.” Cady’s eyes were filled with exhaustion. 

“I know! But this time…this time these thoughts aren’t coming from Kronos. It’s not because I don’t think I’m good enough. It’s because I think I am. Just maybe. Maybe I’m enough to save him. To give him a future. To give everyone a future.” I watched as Cady's eyes filled with tears, her shoulders slumping even more. She stayed silent, as if she could tell there was more I needed to say, and I took a deep breath. 

“For my whole life I never knew where my place was. It took me fourteen years to find it, to be shown it. And I know I haven’t been a part of this world for very long, but from the second that trident appeared over my head, I stepped into a shadow I didn’t even know was there. And I spent a long time resenting that shadow, even if I wouldn’t admit it. But the past few months, few weeks really, I realized—maybe that’s the point. Maybe if I can be a shield for Percy, somehow, that will be enough. Maybe I was brought here—“ 

“You weren’t brought to camp just to die.” Cady's words were sharp, cutting like the knives she loved to throw. 

“But what if I was?”

Cady just sighed. “What aren’t you telling me?” 

“What?”

“I can see it in your eyes. There’s something you’re not saying”

I took a deep breath, wondering if I was that bad at hiding my feelings or if she was just that good at reading them. 

“Hestia visited me this afternoon.” 

“Hestia?”

“Ya, like the goddess.” 

“I know who Hestia is. But why did she visit?” 

“She…” Now that I had to put it into words, I was having a hard time making sense of it. Between helping Percy prepare to leave, and feeling the need to be strong for the other counselors and younger campers after Beckendorff’s funeral, I hadn’t had much time to process her words. I told Cady everything the goddess said—the parallels between the original Andromeda and myself, the way that the fates of my brother and I were tied just as Perseus and Andromeda’s had been. I told her about the warning she gave me, how I shouldn’t fight Percy's battles. 

“She said that learning to yield is powerful, and sometimes more important than fighting.” She was quiet for a while, probably trying to untie all the words I had laid in a tangled mess at her feet. 

“What does that even mean?” 

“I have no idea.” I began tracing my fingers in the sand, doodling seashells that didn’t hold their shape. 

“There’s more, isn’t there?”

I let out a sigh—keeping any secrets around Cady was hopeless. 

“I told you she warned me. But what that warning was…I’m really scared, Cady.” 

My best friend's eyebrows pulled together as a concerned frown grew on her face. She reached a hand over and gripped mine tightly, the feeling grounding me and giving me the strength to continue. 

“She said that I needed to learn to control myself, learn to yield, or I would ‘doom us all.’ Those are the words she used. ‘Doom us all.’” 

“That’s encouraging.” 

Cady’s words were so dry, I burst into laughter. She quickly joined me, both of us unraveling as we howled into the night. It must’ve been a ridiculous sight—and we were getting too loud, I knew it. Soon the harpies would find us, but we didn’t stop. We laughed until tears pooled in our eyes and our sides hurt. 

It felt strange. There was nothing to be laughing at, really. Percy was gone. We were at war. The titans were getting closer by the day. But even so, we were laughing. It was almost as if we could forget it all, even just for a moment. 

But then that moment ended. 

Our laughter died and soon the sound of the waves was once again the only thing between us. The air grew heavier, and with it, my heart. The lightness the laughter had brought flew away on the wind, and we were left alone in the black night once again. 

“I wish I knew what she meant.” 

“I think…” Cady hesitated, as if she was afraid to keep going. “I think she was pretty clear, actually.” She turned to face me again, and her eyes were that mixture of gentle and serious that I had only ever seen her pull off. “You can’t fight Percy’s battles for him. When the time comes…maybe you step aside.”

I shook my head. “I can’t do that. Maybe…Maybe that’s not what she means.” 

Her eyes got sad. “You need to realize that you’re not Percy.” Those words would’ve been harsh coming from anyone else. “You don’t need to be Percy. You said it yourself—ever since you got here, you’ve been living in his shadow, a shadow you didn’t even know was drowning you. And sometimes I wonder if you stay there because you think you have to. Because you think you’re not worthy of the sun.” 

Tears rushed to my eyes quickly as her words knocked the air out of my lungs. 

“But believe me when I say this, Angie—everyone is deserving of their place in the sun.” She managed a smile, and I swear the stars shined brighter. “You don’t have to live in Percy’s shadow. It’s like the myth—your destinies are intertwined, Percy’s success is yours. That means that you can do different things, be different people, and still stay connected. You don’t need to stay in his shadow for that.” 

“But what if—” my voice caught and I couldn’t stop the tears from falling onto my cheeks. “What if I don’t do enough, and he dies. What if I don’t try and protect him, and we lose him.” 

Cady took a deep breath as if the very thought pained her. “If Percy is…fated to die, there’s little we can do. But we don’t know that. Prophecies are tricky, and hard to understand. And the more we try and change them, or work against them, the quicker we make them come true.” She looked into the sky before continuing. “What if you interfere and that ends up causing more harm?” 

A sense of hopelessness washed over me. “I don’t want to live without him.” 

I saw a tear streak down Cady's cheek. “I know. But someone has to keep on living when others die.” 

I felt my eyebrows pull together as a terrifying thought crossed my mind. I had never considered that I would live past this week, past my sixteenth birthday. I had made up my mind that Percy was the one walking away from this, not me, and I was determined to do anything I could to make that happen. 

I hadn’t considered other people might be thinking the same thing, might be making those choices, too—regardless of what other people wanted. 

“You don’t think you’re walking out of this either, do you?” 

Cady dropped her head, staring at the sand. “I know I’m not.” 

“Cady—” 

“You’re not the only one who wants to protect people.” Her head snapped up, and I saw a harshness in her eyes. “This is what I’ve been trained for. My siblings walk away from this. You walk away from this. Gods willing, Percy walks away from this. But not me. Not if I can save them.” 

My head felt like it was spinning. No no no, it screamed. This isn’t right. It as to be me, it has to—

“They need you, Cady.” 

She shook her head. “Nobody needs me. They'll miss me, sure. But they’ll be alright. They’re strong.” 

“I need you.” Desperation and fear were swelling in my chest as I choked back a sob. “I can’t do this alone.” 

“You’re not alone, Angie. You never have been. And even when I go, you never will be.” 

Her words weren’t making sense to me, and panic rose in my stomach as I thought about the very real possibility of losing Cady and Percy within the next week. And Annabeth. And Rosie. And—

I was about to break into hysterics when I felt Cady's hand on my arm, with it the familiar feeling of her magic spreading across my nervous system. Usually I didn’t like when Cady used her gifts on me without asking, but in this moment, I was glad. I couldn’t go down that spiral. I would be falling and falling into the darkness for days—that was a bottomless pit I knew I would never be able to climb out of. 

“Thanks, Cades.” I breathed out as her healing touch calmed my anxiety. I took a deep breath, my first one all day, and met her burdened eyes. 

“You’re gonna be okay, Angie. We don’t know what’s going to happen. Maybe we all walk away from this.” But I could tell she didn’t believe her words. “But even if we don’t, you’ll still be okay. Maybe staying behind is what you were sent for—if there’s still a Camp Half Blood in the next week, they’ll need someone to turn to. They’ll need a leader. They’ll need you.” 

I shook my head instinctively. “I’m not—” 

“But you are, Andromeda. You’re Percy’s sister. You’re Poseidon’s daughter. Whether you like it or not, that power is already within you. Everyone else sees it. It’s about time you start seeing it, too.” 

It was all too much. I clenched my eyes shut and forced myself to listen to the waves, to think of nothing else but the sound as they crashed onto the shore. No more wars, or battles, or prophecies, or doomed brothers, or self-sacrificing best friends. No more gods and titans and doomsdays. Just the sand under my fingers and the sea in front of me. 

It didn’t work. 

“I’m not who everyone thinks I am. I can’t be what everyone needs me to be.” 

I was on my feet and sprinting away from the water before Cady had time to call my name, and I didn’t stop running until the door to Cabin 3 was slammed shut behind me.

[dkniade]

タルタリヤ：「俺が欲しいのは勝利ではなく、磨くこと。」

公式の英語翻訳は「It is not victory that I seek, but improvement.」と言うことだ。

「勝利」と「鍾離」が同じ「しょうり」の読み方を持っているのか…？へぇ…それ以外も、面白い見方だね…尾形回帰さんの「セツナドライブ」の作詞もこう言う見方をしま���ね。

「駆け抜けてゆけ　無我夢中でいい

格好なんて気にしないで

ただ衝動に身体委ね」

つまり

「Cut through all that’s in your way; just lose yourself in the moment

And don’t worry about how you look

Just let impulse take over and guide your body」

[laevateinn]

[ID 1: A screenshot of a Tumblr post reading "I see you're trapped in my gay and stupid maze again". A reblog appends a picture of David Bowie as Jareth the Goblin King with a speech bubble edited above him.

ID 2: A screenshot of a comment from OP reading "Im honoured you all think this is ai but its me doing the same bad Bowie impression ive annoyed my friends with for years".

End ID.]

[theinnerunderrain]

Love Me Dead [Yan!Boyfriend x Fem!Reader]

Warnings: Yandere themes, manipulative behaviors, heavily dialogue bc it's just mostly talking and gaslighting, college life, may be somewhat confusing but it's that story that is up to your interpretation!

+

"[First Name]."

A sizable and gentle hand enfolds your wrist, eliciting a startled leap at the unexpected touch. Casting a curious glance over your shoulder, you discern the hand's owner—a figure with a tousle of rich brown locks. The air on campus carries a lingering blend of pumpkin spice and damp rain, while vibrant leaves in hues of red, yellow, and orange blanket the cement walkway, creating a tapestry beneath your feet.

It was none other than your boyfriend, Asuka.

"Why do you keep ignoring me?"

In a hushed plea, etched with concern and confusion, he inquires, his pallid complexion a canvas for the anxious query. A delicate flush graces his cheeks and ears, a subtle scarlet trace, suggesting an earlier pursuit in an attempt to bridge the distance between you.

"Did I do something wrong..? If I did, then just tell me..."

A dance of confusion painted upon your countenance, a pirouette of bewilderment as you gracefully turned, aligning yourself to face him fully. Brows knitted in contemplation, coral lips drawn into a slender seam, your expression spoke the eloquence of perplexity.

"I'm not ignoring you though..?"

"You are..! You barely text me anymore and avoid me around the campus like I'm some sort of infectious disease.."

He spoke anew, his voice ascending to a higher pitch, an accusatory gaze fixated upon you as though your uttered words were mere echoes of deceit. His other hand delicately enveloped your wrist, creating a symmetrical hold that left you suspended in a still, unsettling equilibrium.

"No I'm not..? Asuka, we both have been busy and I can't spend all day messaging you."

In the chill of the season, you grapple with an awkward attempt at reasoning, noticing the warmth and clamminess of his hands. The contrast, his heated touch against your soft skin, sends an uncomfortable shiver down your spine. Asuka, momentarily lost in contemplation, lets his lips curve into a frown. In that moment, he resembles a kicked puppy, the weight of his next words settling heavily in the air.

"..Are you mad at me..?"

In a suspended breath, he momentarily halted, drawing nearer to you. Amidst the bustling backdrop of students hurrying to their classes, you couldn't help but wonder if curious gazes were directed your way, recognizing the peculiarity of your shared moment beneath the open sky.

"Are you still hung up about last time..? If that's the issue then I'm really sorry, and I've already apologized before...!"

As Asuka continued to speak, words flowed incessantly from his lips, a torrent of increasing urgency evident in the rapid cadence of his cherry-toned voice. A palpable hysteria seeped through his every syllable, mirroring the rising heat radiating from his fervent body. It was as though he embodied a ticking bomb, gradually approaching the brink of overheating, poised to unleash an explosive torrent of emotions.

"Hung up on what?"

Inquiring, you sought release, gently weaving your fingers to disentangle from his grasp, a delicate dance to temper the heat that enveloped. Yet, his clasp remained unyielding, an unspoken embrace refusing to relent.

"Hung up on that time when I was being unreasonable and it made both of us late to our classes."

"No..? Why would I be mad about something like that?"

In the labyrinth of his spoken thoughts, you weave a delicate tapestry, attempting to decipher the cryptic echoes of his mention of unreasonableness. Despite the elusive nature of clarity, you gracefully surrender to the intrigue, deciding to waltz within the enigmatic dance of his words, a willing participant in the artful play of understanding.

"No, there's something wrong but you just won't say it...."

Persistently, Asuka insists, and a subtle irritation blooms within you, despite your inner plea for calm. Yet, his next words delicately wound your heart with a touch of sorrow.

"Do you not love me anymore..?"

"What..?"

In incredulity, you queried, gazing at the young man whose eyes teetered on the brink of cascading tears. The threat lingered in the wells of his eyes, poised to spill over and trace the contours of his fevered cheeks. Yet he continues to rambled.

"Ha! Everything makes sense now. All that cold attitude, and you avoiding me everyday. You lost feelings for me, didn't you?"

His voice crescendoed, rising in both volume and pitch as he advanced, closing the distance until his face hovered mere inches from yours. In this intimate proximity, you couldn't help but sense the burgeoning awareness among fellow students, as they subtly turned their attention toward his unfolding, hysterical unraveling.

"Asuka, how can you say something like that?"

You try to calm him down, speaking in a much softer and calmer tone compared to the man, as if you were a mother trying to calm down a crying child.In the hushed cadence of your voice, a gentle river of reassurance flows, seeking to temper the tempest within him. Your words, soft and serene, weave through the tumult like a mother's lullaby, an attempt to pacify a sobbing child.

"You know...If you had just told me normally that you didn't like me anymore then I would have just accepted that as it is."

Yet, like whispers through the air, your words glide past him. Though a subtle calm embraces him, his voice, now a gentle breeze, unveils a softer cadence, a stark departure from the turbulent tone that had echoed before.

"But why'd you have to go ahead and treat me like that?"

He inquires, guiding your hand to caress the contours of his cheek, gently pressing it against the tender warmth of your palm as if seeking solace in its soft embrace.

"Asuka...I understand you're frustrated but I do love you, and I haven't stopped loving you.."

In hushed tones, your words tenderly caressed the air, coaxing him to nestle against your palm. With a gentle touch, you traced the padded side of your fingers across his cheeks, a soothing rhythm to quell the tempest within him. A graceful guidance led you both to a tranquil refuge, where a brown bench cradled the quietude. There were no other students in sight.

"It's just that, everything has been so stressful with finals and stuff....I swear, I'm not trying to ignore you."

You painted on a smile, and Asuka, with an intent ear, absorbed your words, as though orchestrating a delicate symphony of comprehension within the corridors of his mind.

"But how can I be so sure?"

Once you convince yourself of soothing the man's agitation, his voice resurfaces, posing a question that resonates within your chest, setting a subtle cadence to the rhythm of your heartbeat.

"That you're not just saying that, and that you actually mean it? That you still love me?"

In the quiet expanse of a moment, you pondered his words, delicately crafting a response to safeguard the delicate balance of his emotions. At last, your voice returned, accompanied by the gentle caress of your other hand, tracing a tender path beneath the canvas of his eyes.

"I do love you and you should already know that, Asuka."

Your words, like a subtle elixir, lingered momentarily before gracefully permeating his being. He surrendered to your touch, a gentle immersion into the warmth of your embrace, his grasp on your essence unwittingly tightening. Closer he drew, until the shared touch of both your knees wove a delicate closeness, an unspoken harmony.

"I do...?"

"Yes, you do."

In a graceful motion, you extended your arm, inviting the young man into an embrace willingly embraced. He leaned into your touch, his hand delicately finding its place on the small of your back, creating a tender connection. His body emanated warmth, reminiscent of an oven preheated for hours, yearning for the moment when it could be tenderly turned off. In that intimate embrace, moments stretched like delicate strands of time. His hands held firm against your waist, and his chin found solace upon your shoulders, a subtle dance of closeness. The air bore the comforting aroma of cinnamon and coffee, a fragrant reminder of his presence. As the embrace gently loosened, you parted, a reassuring smile gracing your lips.

"Then, it's settled? I promise to make more time for you, so don't go around thinking I don't love you anymore, alright?"

His countenance eased, a gentle nod painting the canvas of his expression. Where tears once traced delicate paths on his visage, they now evaporated, leaving behind a softened countenance. His lips, once adorned with the weight of sorrow, now curved into a tender smile.

"You promise?"

Once more, you inquire, drawing him into a tender embrace. Your hands cradle the back of his head, granting him the sanctuary to bury his face in the crook of your neck. Unmindful of the ticklish dance of his warm breath upon your skin, you remain oblivious to the subtle curvature of his lips into a contented grin. Nor do you discern the palpable brightening of his eyes, responding softly to your words.

"I promise."

[thef1diary]

Above The Chaos | D. Ricciardo

Summary: Amidst your birthday celebration’s chaos, you find solace on the rooftop with a bottle of wine. Daniel joins, offering comfort underneath the starlit sky.

— part of the Birthday Bash fics

Of course I had to post the Danny one on my own birthday 🤭!! I had sm fun writing all of these fics and I hope you loved reading them just as much

pairing: daniel x fem!reader

wc: 1.4k

main masterlist taglist form

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

The bass thumped through the floorboards, reverberating in your chest as you navigate through the throng of partygoers. Smiles flashed, conversations melded into a cacophony of voices, and glasses clinked together in a rhythmic cadence, each toast a testament to the joy and camaraderie of the occasion. It's the kind of party that Daniel always excels at throwing, especially for your birthday.

The air is thick with excitement, and you catch glimpses of familiar faces. "Happy birthday!" friends and family exclaim as they pass, their voices drowned out by the thumping bass of the music. You offer grateful smiles and nods in return, the corners of your lips twitching with the effort of maintaining your facade of enthusiasm.

Yet amidst the lively chaos of your birthday party, a particular longing tugged at the corners of your mind, an unspoken yearning for something more profound than the fleeting euphoria of the crowd, something quiet.

As you maneuvered through the crowd, you found yourself drawn towards the kitchen, spotting an unopened bottle of wine sitting on the counter. Quickly swiping it away, your gaze darted through the crowd, finding an escape.

You slipped away unnoticed, a ghost in the whirlwind of merriment, ascending the staircase leading to the rooftop sanctuary. Each step carried you further from the pulsating chaos below, closer to the solace of the night sky. As you emerged onto the rooftop, a soft breeze greeted you, earning a sigh from your lips.

The city sprawled before you, a labyrinth of twinkling lights. It was your favourite spot in your home as you could spend hours here in peace, watching the bustling cars pass through as everyone was eager to get to their destinations.

You found a quiet corner, away from the glare of the city, slipping your heels off and sinking onto a weathered bench, relishing the cool kiss of the night air on your skin.

Closing your eyes, you allow yourself to breathe deeply, filling your lungs with the crisp night air.

You uncork the bottle of wine, the rich aroma filling the air, but you remember that you forgot to bring a glass from downstairs. Just as you ponder the predicament of forgetting a glass, a familiar voice broke through the stillness of the night.

"Hey, there you are," Daniel said softly, still startling you slightly. You placed a hand on your chest, breathing deeply, "you scared me."

"Sorry, didn't mean to. Mind if I join you?" He spoke as he appeared beside you with a warm smile.

You looked at the twinkling sky for a moment, and then back at him. "Not at all," you replied, shifting over to make room on the bench. Out of all the people in the party, Daniel was the one whose company you always welcomed, even if you only wanted silence.

Daniel settled in beside you, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the vast expanse of the rooftop. He glanced at the bottle of wine in your hand, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Good choice," he commented, making you look down at the bottle and chuckle.

"I didn't even notice." It was a bottle of wine from his collection. "But I forgot to bring glasses," you added.

Daniel's grin widened, and he reached into the pockets of his jacket, presenting two wine glasses with a flourish. "Not to worry," he said, holding out the glasses towards you. "I came prepared."

You couldn't help but laugh at his resourcefulness, accepting the glasses with a grateful nod. "Thanks Danny," you said, pouring a generous amount of wine into each glass before handing one towards him.

"You're seriously wearing a jacket in this weather?" You eye him oddly, a laugh bubbling up in your throat again.

He shrugs, "you know I get cold, feel my hands." He holds out his free hand in front of you, and you easily clasp it in yours. "Aw, you poor baby," you tease him, setting your wine glass down to poke his reddening nose.

Daniel chuckled as you teased him, his cheeks flushing slightly at your playful jab. "Hey now, don't make fun of me," he protested, though his tone was lighthearted. "Some of us are just more sensitive to the cold."

You grinned, unable to resist poking his nose again. "Well, lucky for you, I happen to be an expert at keeping people warm," you said, squeezing his hand affectionately.

Daniel's eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "Is that so?" he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the proximity, the heat of his body radiating against yours. You hummed, your voice barely above a whisper. "A birthday girl special."

He leaned his head against your shoulder, one hand holding on to yours while the other swirled the wine in the glass, still not wanting to sip it just yet.

"Speaking of, why are you up here instead of enjoying the party downstairs? it's for you after all," he questioned, his voice softening.

"Just needed a moment to recharge, away from the chaos downstairs," you explained, squeezing his hand once more.

Daniel nodded in understanding, his gaze drifting to the city skyline as if contemplating your words. "I get that," he said, his voice sympathetic. "Sometimes, a little quiet time is all you need to appreciate the celebration even more."

You sighed contentedly, grateful for his understanding. "Exactly," you agreed. "And having you here makes it even better."

"Oh yeah? You're not gonna tell me to leave?" He grinned, a playful tone returning in his voice.

You rolled your eyes, dropping his hand and pushing him away. "Don't make me change my mind," you teased, giving him a mock glare before breaking into a grin. "You're stuck with me now, whether you like it or not."

Daniel chuckled, leaning back against the bench with a playful smirk. "I thought I already was, from the moment we met years ago."

You jutted your chin out, "touché."

With a grin, you picked up your wine glass, raising it in a toast. "To chaotic parties and rooftop retreats," you declared, your voice filled with sincerity.

Daniel mirrored your gesture, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that made your heart flutter. "To moments like these," he added, his tone soft but filled with meaning.

As your glasses clinked together, the sound echoing softly in the stillness of the night, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude wash over you. Gratitude for the quiet moments of connection, for the laughter, and for the unwavering support of a friend who understood you like no other.

You took a sip of the wine, expecting the familiar taste of Daniel's signature blend. However, to your surprise, the flavor was different, richer and more complex than usual. You furrowed your brows in confusion, glancing at Daniel with a questioning look.

Daniel watched you closely, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Notice anything different?" he asked, a hint of mischief in his tone.

You nodded slowly, the taste of the wine lingering on your palate. "Yeah, it's... different," you admitted, searching for the right words to describe the unexpected flavor profile.

Daniel chuckled softly, leaning in closer to whisper in your ear. "I've been working on this blend for quite a while," he confessed, his breath warm against your skin. "I wanted it to be perfect for your birthday."

Your eyes widened in surprise, touched by his thoughtfulness. "You did all this for me?" you asked, feeling a warmth spread through you at the realization.

Daniel nodded, his gaze meeting yours with sincerity. "Of course," he said softly. "You deserve nothing but the best."

As you sat there together, savoring the exquisite flavor of the wine and the warmth of Daniel's company, you couldn't help but feel a sense of calmness wash over you. With each sip, you could taste the love and care that had gone into crafting the perfect blend, and you knew that this birthday would be one you'd never forget.

You leaned your head against his shoulder this time, finding his hand again and threading your fingers between his. “Thank you for everything; the party, the wine, it's perfect.”

“Anything for you,” he murmured, as if stating a simple fact, but it warmed your heart, making you wonder how you were so lucky all those years ago to meet Daniel.

The night stretched on, the stars twinkling overhead like diamonds scattered across the sky. While you retreated to the rooftop for a moment of peace, you realized that you wouldn’t have found the peace in silence like you did in Daniel’s laughter.

Taglist: @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @xjval @namjoonswaifu @isabellewinchester @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @nikfigueiredo @wonnou @jointhehunt67 @gxuh @landoslutmeout @barcelonaloverf1life @regalbanshee @megudaeggu @c-losur3 @thenotoriouserg

[veronicaphoenix]

the last song | n.s.

With the new album finally completed and a new song dropping in a couple of days, Noah takes his girl to the studio, hoping to show her around without the chaos of past recording days, and maybe, he can get that last song he's been dreaming of.

one shot ✨ | noah sebastian x fem.reader word count: 2.3k tags: established relationship, fluff, fluffy sexual content (it's not too explicit), reader has a slight kink for noah's silver chain (who doesn't, let's be honest), no trigger warnings, just noah being in love and being loved back.

The studio is finally empty. 

After weeks of relentless work and dedication, days blurring into nights, headaches, frustration, last-minute changes, and ups and downs not only in the sounddeck, but also in the mood of the whole team, the album was finally ready, and in a matter of days, new music would fill spaces beyond the studio’s confines.  

         Noah steps aside to let her in. She is enveloped in the grandeur of the space. Never before had she been in a recording studio, and its magnitude overwhelms her. The expanse stretches out before her, a labyrinth of hallways leading into rooms of creativity. There are framed records adorning the walls, a testament to the artistry that thrives within these walls. This feels like the type of place Noah would call home. Too bad she hasn’t fully realized yet that his home is her,no matter how many hours he’s spent away from her locked in this very right place. 

         While she is fascinated by the array of instruments, cables, and other things she doesn’t know the name of, it’s Noah himself who captivates her the most. His joy is palpable as he gives gently explanations about the use of each room, each instrument. His enthusiasm is infectious. He’s so eager to share his world with her. 

         This is one of the reasons why she’s so in love with him. 

         His passion. 

         And she is lucky enough that he’s equally passionate about music as he is about her. 

         Taking her hand, he leads her from one room to another, continuing his explanations and sharing curiosities about this and that, mentioning the guys, the places where each one usually sits while they review the recordings, the Starbucks cups that pile up in the corner of a table when they’ve been locked in there for twelve hours and start to suffer the effects of not seeing the sunlight or hearing the sounds of the outside world, anecdotes that ignite her laughter, a sound that makes Noah’s heart flutter. 

         She asks him about the new music, she pleads to hear at least one song, a piece, ten seconds. Nearly begs him. She knows she just has to utter the word “please” and Noah will give her anything she wants. This evening, she wants to hear the melodic cascade of his voice, get lost in the way Noah turns words into dreamy melodies. It’s not enough to hear him speak; she wants to hear him weave words into a song; she wants to drown in the melodies he has put into lyrics that speak of her, of the moments when they are stripped of all mundanity, of clothes and fear, when they are alone, skin to skin, and when all that can be heard is only the rhythm of their beating hearts and the symphony of their shared passion. 

         He insists he can’t. He wants it to be a surprise. He has hopes that when she listens to the album, one or two songs will get her on her knees, while others will lead her to beg him to fuck her to the cadence of those. 

         Embedded within the lyrics of the new songs are a few confessions, but there’s a time for those to reach her ears, and it’s not tonight. 

         He silences his phone and sets it aside while she occupies herself by tinkering with the buttons on the soundboard. A few minutes later, Noah sneaks up behind her, enveloping her in his warm and slipping his hands beneath the fabric of her white t-shirt.  

         “There’s actually... one last song missing,” he murmurs against the fragrant scent of her hair.  

         “One last song?” She asks, her curiosity piqued. She begins to turn round, but Noah holds her in place. He rests his head on her shoulder, and with a trail of his fingers along the curve of her stomach, he elicits a subtle shiver that she tries to ignore. “I thought you said the album was complete, that you had finished...”

“Not quite yet,” he replies, planting a ghostly kiss on her earlobe. 

         She can sense the cool, minty breath against her neck, and it sends a shiver down her spine. He has been indulging in a mint candy, and her mind wanders to the tantalizing thought of having his mouth between her legs at this moment. The idea of that refreshing sensation sends a rush of desire coursing through her veins, and she can’t help but wonder if it would be enough to push her over the edge. 

         She smells of jasmine and the promise of spring. He wants to inhale her, breathe her in.  

         Concerned, she wriggles in his embrace until she can face him, stepping back a few paces as she speaks. She wants him to take her seriously.

         “I didn’t know, Noah. I wouldn’t have asked you to bring me here if you were still in the middle of—”

         With a single step, he reaches her again, his smile widening at her endearing bewilderment. He captures her lips in a kiss, stealing her breath away. The taste of the candy is still on his lips, and his fresh breath enters her mouth as their lips part.

         It’s in the way their mouths fit together that she finds reassurance that they’re perfect for each other. She knows she’s found the boy of her dreams, and the mere thought of being apart from him feels unbearable. She doesn’t know how she will survive next time he goes away on tour. For now, she will live in the way his tender kisses have a way of evolving into passionate bites that ignite a delightful flutter in her stomach. 

         “You’re adorable,” he says over her lips. 

         For a moment, she feels dizzy. Then, with a determined frown, she grabs a handful of Noah’s black hoodie, attempting to appear assertive, though to Noah, she resembles nothing more than an adorable kitten.  

         “You told me the album was complete, that you would only bring me here once the work was done and this was empty so that you could let me explore and touch things and…”

         “And record the last song,” Noah interjects calmly, looking into her eyes, smile tugging at his lips.

         Her brow furrows even deeper, her head tilting slightly to the side as Noah’s gaze traces the contours of her face, his eyes filled with admiration for every freckle, that little ever so tiny scar earned in a childhood adventure, the faint blush spreading through her cheeks.  

         “Noah, I don’t understand.”

         “Let me show you…”

         With her skin already responding to the anticipation, Noah’s hands find their way under her t-shirt, caressing the skin of her sides. It’s always just one touch and she’s already putty in his hands. She can’t help it; the man has that effect on her, that power over her. She would give him the world if she could because no one ever makes her feel as cherished as he does.  

         So, when he gently lifts her t-shirt, after worshipping her with light, seductive kisses along her neck and jawline, she allows him to undress her. His lips touch her shoulder, his tongue tracing a slow path until it finds the pulsing vein of her neck. A sharp intake of breath escapes her lips as he tenderly sucks at her skin, his fingers expertly finding their way beneath her skirt and underwear, eliciting a low, sweet moan from deep within her.  

         It’s the first of many moans to come.  

         Noah smiles against her flushed skin. His cock twitches. His heartbeat races.  

         The music is playing now. 

         He showers her with kisses, his hand cradling the side of her face as he traces a line with his finger from between her legs, through the valley of her breasts, up to her clavicle. 

         Growing impatient, she tugs at his hoodie, and sensing her urgency, he assists her in removing it. Underneath, Noah wears a black tank top, and her eyes immediately gravitate to the silver chain adorning his neck, previously hidden by the hoodie. With a heated spark in her eyes, she hesitates for a moment before seizing the chain and pulling Noah down to her awaiting mouth. 

         With one hand clutching his chain and the other sliding to the back of his head, she revels in the sensation of his soft hair sliding between her fingers. He emanates the intoxicating scent of masculine perfume and tastes like pure adrenaline—a potent combination that renders him utterly irresistible. He’s as addictive as a man can get. He’s tall, muscular, handsome, and fucking sweet. 

         And best of all, he is hers.  

         Noah scoops her up, intending to place her atop the sound deck. It would be a great place to fuck her on, but he quickly realizes it wouldn’t be comfortable at all, and he doesn’t want her to get hurt. 

         He pivots towards the couch—a place where he had envisioned her countless times before… Sitting there with pen and paper, crafting songs about her, he had often pictured her naked form, her eyes shimmering with anticipation, beckoning him to find his place between her legs, to envelop her with his body, to fill her up with every inch of him.

          With care, he lays her down on the couch, positioning one knee on the cushions to remain close to her, determined to prolong their kiss for as long as possible. He doesn’t think he can breathe without her nearby. 

         She is never shy when it comes to showing how much she wants him, how much she needs him. She’s unapologetically about her desperate desire, and that’s something that drives him to the brink of madness. Her eagerness only serves to make her so fucking attractive that he thinks he could eat her up. He’s consumed by that need, to bite and taste her in a surge of primal instinct, yet he manages to maintain a sweet and seductive demeanor. She brings out both the beast and the tender lover in him, and somehow, it’s a harmonious blend that feels inexplicably beautiful. 

         With each touch, nibble, and kiss, her passionate responses start escaping from her lips, wet with lust for him. Their clothes disappear in a matter of minutes, and as Noah finds himself —and his skilled tongue— nestled between her legs, savoring her essence, and impregnating her with his fresh minty breath, the symphony of his name being carried through long feminine moans fill the studio walls in ways he could never have imagined. 

         But it’s when he’s buried deep inside her that the music truly comes alive. 

         Together, they create a melody of ecstasy, Noah playing her body like a virtuoso, eliciting the perfect notes and sounds with each touch, kiss, thrust. She’s a tangled delicious mess beneath him, but every whimper and sigh and plea for more is a testament to her trust and love for him, a hymn sung in the throes of passion. 

         Occasionally, a primal growl escapes him, the beast within yearning to be unleashed, but she, the angel, the muse,keeps him grounded, wrapped in her wings, guiding him along the lines of their shared musical score. 

         As their bodies glisten with sweat, the tempo of their lovemaking begins to slow, descending from its crescendo, their ragged breaths filling the remaining spaces of their song. She smiles against his cheek, nuzzling her nose against his skin. She holds him close, unwilling to let go just yet. Unwilling to ever let go. 

         “So?” She murmurs, teasingly playing with her teeth on Noah’s earlobe.

          He squirms in an attempt to escape her, but her teeth follow him, leaving him with no choice but to retaliate by biting her shoulder and descending to capture on of her nipples in his mouth, coaxing one new sound from her lips. 

         “So?” he repeats, mumbling between clenched teeth, his tongue teasing her hardened nipple. 

         “Did you record the song?” she asks playfully, gesturing with her eyes towards the sound deck. 

         “No. No, I didn’t,” he admits with a laugh, feeling himself softening inside of her. 

         “Oh, well…” she licks her lips, pretending to think of what to do now. The weight of Noah feels so nice on top of her that it would be enough to just keep on holding him. “What are we going to do about it?” she continues. “Any idea?”

         She does have an idea. 

         Her cheeky tone catches him off guard, and this time, it’s him who frowns as he gazes up at her. His chest and stomach press against hers, and with each laborious breath she takes, he feels the rhythmic rise and fall of her body beneath him. He considers moving, but before he can act, she wraps her leg around his, anchoring him in place.

         She bites her lip, tempting him to do the same; to lower his head and kiss her and bite her and leave her breathless. 

         A second later, she reaches down towards her bag on the carpeted floor beside the couch and retrieves her phone, unlocks it, and opens the voice recording app. 

         “Maybe we should try again, don’t you think? And perhaps we should try to be… a bit louder?”

         His eyes darken. 

         “Think you can do that?” she asks him, a devilish smile painted on her face. 

         “I can definitely make you sing louder,” he growls, feeling himself hardening once more while still inside of her. His home. 

         She has a way of provoking him that never fails to get him hard anywhere, anytime, in no time. 

         “Do I… press play now?” Her fingertip hovers over the screen. 

         Noah responds by pulling a few inches out and thrusting hard into her, their bodies moving in perfect synchronization against the worn fabric of the sofa they are laid on. She lets out a scream as her fingertip presses the play button. The phone falls with a thud on the floor. 

         And with that, they’re making music once again. 

         One last song. 

         One more time. 

         Louder. 

[writtenbylupin]

I have been meticulously reading an immense amount of wolfstar fics since 2021, so I'll give y'all my humble opinion on the best fics I've read, from the popular to the non popular ones:

WOLFSTAR FICS RECOMMENDATIONS ON AO3

POPULAR ONES THAT YOU MIGHT HAVE ALREADY HEAR OF:

"Best Friend's Brother" by bizarrestars (there's jegulus in this one as well. Remus is Regulus' best friend, and James is Sirius'. Regulus and Sirius don't talk anymore)

"Crimson Rivers" by bizarrestars (Hunger Games au. heart breaking. you will cry for months. there's also jegulus, dorlene, and marylily).

"The Cadence of Part-time Poets" by motswolo (High-school plus band au. my pearsonal favorite. I love it)

"Kill Your Darlings" by MesserMoon (Deaf Remus. College. other couples povs like jegulus and marylily. I cried so much. haven't recovered)

"Dear Your Holiness" by MollyMaryMarie (priest Remus. I know, it's weird, give it a chance anyway)

"all my cards are here" by haey1 (band au)

"Not Another Band AU" by TheLovelyZee (band au. I really love band au's)

"Sweater Weather" by lumosinlove (hockey au. Sirius is the captain, Remus is the physical trainer)

NON POPULAR ONE'S (some of it might be popular and I'm just not aware):

"Staying Strangers" by 3amAndCounting (texting. IT'S SO AMAZING. they actually talk about stuff before running away when they're sad, I'm obsessed)

"oh thou, my lovely boy" by bigthief (Dead Poets Society au)

"Blends" by rvltn909 (coffee shop au)

"A Wolf's Heart" by mizdiz (ill Remus. I cried. a lot.)

"cruel summer" by moonystarx (girl__almighty) (teenargers spending the summer toguether)

"Of Memories and Milk Thievery" by moonymoment (divorced wolfstar raising Teddy)

"Show Me Love" by EtoilesLaNuit (a one-shot of a universe where wolfstar didn't work out and everything falls apart. I sobbed reading this. If you feel like crying, this is your fic. If you're looking for a happy ending, run away from here)

"labyrinth" by moonymoment (they have a past, but now Remus is back, and Sirius doesn't know what to do)

"sirius black and the "mystery girl"" by tjmcharg (lily tries to figure out who is this person sirius is dating. Hogwarts au)

"every christmas from now on" by mandarino_o (fake dating. they're so obvious. im in love)

"Godlight" by Badhairred (F1 DRIVERS!!!! wolfstar and jegulus. they hate each other at first)

"Best Friend's Wedding" by amberlink (fake dating. famous sirius. remus works for him. past romantic prongsfoot)

"saccharine" by moonymoment (GHOST SIRIUS!!!)

This is it everybody, these are the main ones for me. enjoy and thank me later (:

[cherri-ying]

Sing for me, little Nightingale (Yan! Scaramouche x Reader)

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56024689

Felines are deserving of their accolades. Merit embodies their nimble spines and ductile limbs; bodies like pliable sand, threading their way through knots, twists, cavities and labyrinths. The prince of the hunt flexes and swipes his talons and his victims are swift to falter, their necks wringed and their spines contorted in ways that are unnatural to their physicality.

“I’ve got you now.”

At times, though, even a cat doesn't remain undefeated.

“How stupid are you to think that a cheap disguise would work against me?” He almost sounds amused, his words an arctic hiss against your ear. Reaching up, Scaramouche claws at the thick cloak that veils your face and tears it to your shoulders. Your hair is quick to mime the departed elements, hanging in disarray across your face. A mantilla of unkempt tresses, veiling whatever thoughts sketch your visage.

The Balladeer regards the sight of your person with a sort of contemptuous delight. Forcefully knelt at his feet with your wrists bound behind you and your head drooped in defeat—or in pensiveness. It's a shame Zapolyarny is so devoid of windows. What light finds it's way into these all-too familiar stone chambers is too sparse to see what expression you're making.

“Well? Say something. Or have I rendered you incapable of speech?”

Tentatively—begrudgingly—you tip your head back, back, back until your irises lock with the hypnotic indigo tinctures belonging to the puppet who leers dauntingly above you. Locks of such a hue that only you could wear part like the red sea, revealing a thin, perhaps solemn, ambiguous smile—the last expression the harbinger could anticipate. Or desire.

“Thwarted again, hm?” You chuckle and it sounds like frost, “and I even took extensive measures to conceal my tracks. No good?”

“Failures are bound to repeat themselves.” Scaramouche doesn't nuisance himself with that syrupy facade he wears to rope his targets right between his molars. Malice is a noisome stench in the air as he adds, “This is the seventh time I’ve had to retrieve you. I'd figure you’d have learned your lesson by now, but time after time you insist on making yourself a burden to fetch.”

“There's no harm in trying, is there?” You maintain that strange curve on your plush lips. It’s difficult to tell what you're thinking, or feeling.

“‘No harm’, yet you delude yourself into believing that a time would come when you could successfully evade me. I wonder how long it’ll take until those dreams of yours crumble and die.”

“You know, there’s a word for what you are,” you state after a thoughtful pause. “I think it’s called: overbearing.”

What a strange person, with a strange smile. Normally, Scaramouche would meet such defiance by smiting his poor victim to dust within the blink of an eye. In your displays of resolve, though, the invincible harbinger finds himself crouching to your level, trailing a slender hand against your windpipe. How easily he could squeeze the life from your throat until you begs for reprieve; choke you of your indignation. Instead, he allows it to linger there without purpose, applying no pressure, grasping nothing.

“And there’s a word for what you are.” He nearly whispers. Difficult. Stubborn. Irrevocably his. “Irrational, when I only want what’s best for you. And what’s best for you, is to offer me your complete submission.”

“Even though I’d sooner offer my life than yield to you?” A new tone makes itself heard in your cadence. Such words, such simple, few words, reveal what lingers beneath your otherwise indifferent facade.

Sagacious. Provocative. Challenging.

Of course, you're testing the boundaries of Scaramouche's resolve, as he does with yours. Suddenly, the atmosphere is taut and palpable with tension for what may become of the future.

Sly, sly little songbird.

Something most unanticipated happens, and you reveal your hands, which you freed from their binds. Maybe it shouldn’t surprise Scaramouche, what with your prowess in the art of escape, but regardless your smile stretches in the presence of the astonishment that lifts his eyebrows and makes his eyes flash white, if only briefly. You take your time observing such a paltry display of rare, raw, emotion, how it shapes the contours of his features at the command of your actions. And gently, you take his hand that graces your throat and tenderly place it on your cheek.

"Ah... You've always been this way, haven't you, Kunikuzushi? Since the very day fate first connected your eyes to mine? " You slant your head into his cold hand with all the fragility of a shedding lotus petal descending into a reservoir, resting your cheek against his cold, liquid touch. Although, the action is far from affectionate. Rather, it's reminiscent of a sort of obstinacy, wearing the facade of love.

"You pine for my heart like you're starved for my flesh.” You take his hand and pass it through your cloak, poising it on your chest, right above your pumping heart.

"But... Perhaps I have no heart to offer you. What then? What will you do when you realize, there is no flesh to pick from my bones? No heart beneath my ribs?"

Scaramouche trudges through your words, running them across his mind. No plausible answer makes itself seen. He relinquishes his hand from your chest.

A cat may not have wings, but it is unrelenting.

“If you have no heart…” He murmurs, before smiling a bitter smile, “Then I’ll make you learn how to love.” how to love him. “I’ll create a heart in the shape of my love, and then I’ll take it. By force if I must.”

"You're willing to create something, just to seize and destroy it..." His words taste like blood upon your tongue. Strange. Carrying pleasantry and uncanniness in a sordid congruence. your lips falter from their smile.

"What a rotten soul you have... When will you realize that your avarice will be your demise?"

A wry, perhaps relenting chuckle emerges from your throat. Then you sigh.

"Perhaps we were made for each other." “

Then why do you run from me? Why do you fight, when you’re meant to be mine?” He asks, vehement, pertinacious.

"But that is where you're mistaken, Scaramouche. You see—” You direct your pointer finger to his chest, resting it in the junction between his collarbones.

“—You're tenacious in pursuing me. But I'm," You points at herself, "Tenacious in avoiding you. We are made for each other like the same ends of two magnets. The same, yet destined to be apart."

There it is, another one of your challenging remarks. The chirping nightingale wriggles free and unfurls it's wings, just as the cat thinks the bird is trapped beneath its paws. And oh, how infuriating, how exhilarating you are. Hatred is a simmering tempest that ignites the harbinger's temper. He despises how affixed he is to you, to the thought of trapping you beneath his claws, only for you to fly free and rejoice your liberation in song. It's petty. It's pathetic. It's irresistible. The Balladeer scoffs.

“Is this all just a game of push and pull to you? Just how long are you willing to avoid me?”

 “How long are you willing to pursue me?”

“Until you submit to me.”

“Then, until you set me free.”

Scaramouche can only watch as you put on your hideous, inhuman, anomalistic smile. Fine, then. If nothing else, he’ll build you a gilded cage to lure you into a golden prison disguised as a paradise. He’ll rip your wings from your body, flesh and bone marrow hanging in loose tendrils, so to erase all notions of flying free from your unreadable mind that he tends to make his possession, until you’re bleeding so sweetly beneath his claws. His beautiful songbird, who sings in the shape of his love.

Because you were made for him. He, the heartless one, who wishes for a heart. For your heart, which you are't willing to offer. Which you wish you never had.

You’re the only one who believes he still has a soul; that he ever had one, rotten as it may be.

Scaramouche cannot let that go. Regardless of how many times you flee from his talons, he will find you and chase you to the very ends of this earth.

Fly away, little singing nightingale.

[soulessjourney]

Quiet Confessions

Paring: Astarion x fem!DurgTavReader

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: As memories flood back, Tav opens up to Astarion beneath the moonlight, sharing the chains that bind her.

Warnings: Truama talk, mentions of abuse and violence, Angst, fluff, hurt and comfort, Tav being an emotional wreck in the softest way possible, talk of self hatred

A/N: I'm gradually working my way down the list of tasks I need to complete, which means I'm getting closer to the fantastic requests I've been receiving. If you have a request, feel free to share it! I thoroughly enjoy bringing your ideas to life!

Uncertain of how long you had been away from camp, you found yourself lying in the grass, gazing up at the moon. Time slipped away as you became lost in the labyrinth of your thoughts. The journey began when a torrent of memories, once erased during your escape from the ship's pod, flooded back, triggering a piercing headache. These recollections unveiled a darker version of yourself, one capable of committing unspeakable acts in pursuit of power. The realization of your own monstrous nature left you feeling contaminated, haunted by the deeds done beyond your control.

Choosing to forget the past, you had embarked on a new life, hoping to bury the shadow of the person you once were. Yearning for the demise of that former self and its memories, you couldn't help but wish they had perished the day you awoke on that ship.

The serenity of your contemplation was interrupted by the soft cadence of approaching footsteps. Astarion, with his distinctive gait, revealed his presence. Over the past few months, you had honed the ability to identify individuals by the sound of their steps—a skill cultivated, perhaps, by the constant threat of someone attempting to sneak up on you.

Sitting up, you turned to Astarion, offering a tender smile, reciprocated by his affectionate gaze. "Once again, I fail to surprise you, my love," he remarked, settling down beside you.

You shrugged, reclining in the grass, allowing your gaze to settle on the moon. A comfortable silence enveloped the space between you as Astarion leaned back on one hand, holding a book in the other. He never felt the need to inquire if something was amiss; he understood that you would approach him when ready, just as you had done for him. Neither of you pressured the other, always waiting until one felt inclined to share what weighed on your minds. This dynamic defined the perfection of your relationship—rooted in trust and patience, creating a beautiful harmony. Astarion sensed your internal struggle and refrained from prying, recognizing the feeling of being bound to something without an escape.

You debated with yourself on how to approach the topic. Keeping your gaze fixed on the sky, you decided to let your thoughts flow into words. "Sometimes when I look in the mirror, all I can see is a monster—a cold-blooded killer who gazes into people's eyes as life leaves them. I hate how good it makes me feel when it happens," you suddenly confessed, pulling Astarion's attention away from the book. He closed it, placing it beside him, and lays back beside you, offering his undivided attention. He was prepared to listen to every word, no matter how violent or disturbing, understanding that being present for you in this moment was the best form of support.

"As I would take off my armor and examine my arms, a part of me felt ashamed of what I saw. Scars where the skin was rubbed raw. Initially, I thought nothing of it, but now I can feel those shackles that kept me confined to that room. A room with a window too high for me to look out, allowing sunlight to reveal its true small and decaying nature. A room where the body of the person I murdered lay in the corner, reeking of death, and I was forced to stare at it for days until the stench drove me mad," you whispered, furrowing your eyebrows as your mind wandered back into that haunting memory.

Anger surged through Astarion upon your confession. You were a prisoner of your own mind, with no escape until recently, just like him. Astarion refrained from touching you as he observed you beginning to fall back into the past—a familiar experience, losing oneself in a memory and reliving it.

"The day I felt those chains break from the ground was the day I learned how to truly walk. It was the day I killed so many people, and every single one of them begged for their life. I remember laughing and smiling like an accomplished fool when I took their lives. It's so disgusting, knowing that I did what I did, how I killed the people that I did. With that came the pure torture my so-called father put me through. He would lock me in this room with his followers and see just how much pain I could take. He claimed it was to make me stronger, to be the perfect killer I was born to be. But each time they cut into me, I lost myself piece by piece," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Astarion rolled onto his side to look at you, studying your features as you spoke. He noticed the subtle cues—how your jaw clenched when discussing anger-inducing events, how your eyes softened when recalling taking an innocent life, and how your nose would scrunch when lost in thought. Everything about you was beautiful, breathtaking even, which intensified his resentment for the pain you had endured.

As you spoke, Astarion began to grasp why you lingered sometimes, gazing at views or exploring houses and temples. These were sights stripped from most of your life, confined to the inside of a cell or a room, enduring unimaginable pain.

What you chose to share next shattered Astarion and revealed the depth of your strength. "But now that I have Wyll, Gale, Karlach, Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Halsin, and even you, I'm learning how to be strong for the first time ever. I'm learning how to confront the darkness and face my own reflection without resentment, knowing that I bear the face you love and cherish. I'm learning how to truly live for the first time, and it terrifies me," you confessed. Astarion felt his eyes soften, his hand moving to rest beside yours, his pinky gently brushing against the side of your hand in a small gesture of comfort.

Lost in your memories, you didn't even register the subtle caress of his finger on your hand. Your eyes had glazed over, ensnared in the labyrinth of your mind, silent tears tracing their path from the corners of your eyes. Your profound silence began to concern Astarion; it seemed as if you were paralyzed in that moment, with no discernible movement. He felt a sense of helplessness, unable to assist you in the way he desired, as he, too, often succumbed to the torturous memories inflicted by Cazador.

When a strangled sob shattered the silence between you, Astarion sat up and enveloped you in his arms. This was a method he knew could often bring comfort when you broke down. No words needed to be spoken as he held you tightly. You were someone who wore a mask around others, refusing to reveal your vulnerabilities. Yet, with him, you found solace and strength, as he did with you. Lae’zel often remarked on how you both carried the weight of the world, calling you two sides of the same coin.

Or when rejecting Gale, he commented on the irony of your love for Astarion, noting the striking similarity in your personalities. While said to hurt you, there was truth in his words. You and Astarion understood the shared pain and the deep connection between you, choosing to be there for one another and share love you both craved.

Drawing you closer, Astarion let your head rest in the crook of his neck, his cheek against the side of your head. He released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding when he felt your arms wrap around his middle, bringing you back from the daze you were trapped in. You were here, in his arms, holding on as if afraid he would vanish if you let go. Leaning back slightly, he cupped your face in his hand, running his thumbs over your cheeks in a soothing manner. "There you are, my love. I was worried I lost you," he said, the concern and fear evident in his voice.

Shaking your head, you placed your hands over his, leaning into his touch. Although your response was silent, he understood. "Can we stay and watch the sunrise? I've never seen it before, and I want to experience this new thing with you," you whispered, searching his eyes for any sign of rejection. You wanted to linger, to feel alive, if only for a moment, before returning to the mask you had carefully crafted.

Pressing his lips to the crown of your head, he nodded, pulling you closer and shifting so you both could sit in a more comfortable position. "Of course, my love. For you, I'd sit through a million sunrises if you asked me to," he said, prompting a small smile to grace your lips. This moment with the person you cherished was your sanctuary, he was your home.

[freedomfireflies]

more stiles blurbs??? last one was hot

A tense silence settles over the hallway as you look at the massacre and bloodshed, the ruby marks splattered across the wall, across your dress, and across Stiles’ face. 

His chest is heaving, his cheeks are flushed, and his stained hands are balled into fists by his side. He’s done what he came to do. He’s managed the threat. He’s executed the entire council.

He looks at the damage he’s done as he regains control of his breathing pattern and once he manages to ground himself, he looks up and meets your eye.

You gaze at the face of the man you’ve grown to love these past few months. The face of a man who gave up sanity and freedom and his entire life just to be with you. The man who chose to crawl back into the labyrinth of the nogitsune just to keep you.

You step over the lifeless body at your feet, your heels clicking across the marble floor as you make your way for him. He watches you, still a bit lost in his own mind, but with each step you take, he becomes increasingly more aware of himself. Of you. Of why he’s here.

You take his face in your hands, thumb swiping a stray drop of blood from his lip. “How do you feel?” you whisper. You’re desperate to taste just a fraction of the ecstasy you’re sure is coursing through his veins. All that pain, all that agony, all that strife…you need it. More than you need air in your lungs.

His eyes flick between yours as he finds his voice. “So fucking good.”

You smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His hands find your hips, tugging you into his body as your chest meets his. “Better than the last time.”

Your lashes flutter at the rough cadence of his voice. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs as he nudges his nose against yours. “S’fucking good, Angel. Promise you’ll like it.”

“I know,” you tell him within an instant, ready to find out. “I know, I can feel it.”

“Yeah?” His breathing is becoming sporadic, as is your own, both of you beginning to claw at the fancy outfits you’ve chosen for the evening in a desperate attempt to take. “This what you wanted?”

He pushes you back until you meet the wall, and you gasp at the contact as he begins to fist your dress in his large hand. 

This is what you wanted. It’s all you’ve wanted ever since he took you to the woods and introduced you to the Nemeton. Introduced you to the power. To Void. To the possibilities.

You’ve never seen a man more glorious. Never seen someone so comfortable in this type of light. This type of revenge. 

The Stiles you met back at the academy was quiet. Frustrated. Kept to himself and didn’t talk much about his past.

Spencer Reid had introduced you. Said Stiles needed a friend. A reminder that the future was louder than the past. 

You befriended the quiet, tortured boy. Figured out why he hid in the shadows. What he was trying to hide from.

He didn’t just let you in that night. He let the darkness in as well.

“We should…we should go,” you pant as he trails his open-mouthed and desperate kisses along your jaw. “They’ll be here soon, and you know Hotch won’t let this go—”

“Don’t fucking care,” he whispers, fingers slipping up the inside of your thighs as he kicks your feet apart. “Don’t care, Angel. Know you don’t, either.”

Your eyes roll back as he cups the back of your neck just to bite on your bottom lip. As he takes. “I care about keeping you safe—”

“M’safe right fucking here. Right here, with you.”

You whine when you feel him press the heel of his hand to your clit, rolling his wrist just to watch you squirm. “Stiles—”

“What?”

You gasp for air. “We have to go—”

“Not yet. Not until I get what I came for.”

“Stiles—”

“What?” he whispers, nose against your cheek as he slips his fingers inside. As he curls and beckons you toward what you want. What you both want. “You know the deal. Know it’s all for you—”

“Fuck.” Your head falls back against the wall with a thump. You’re not even sure how you’re still standing or why he’s so set on doing this now, but you suppose he’s right. A deal was made that day in the woods. A deal you can’t exactly opt out of and wouldn’t want to if you could. 

“If you wanna go so bad…” he murmurs as he drags his teeth along the outer shell of your ear. “…then I guess you better give me what I want.”

He wants to ruin you. See tears streaming down your face as you beg him for the power he wields. For the euphoria that comes from the dark kitsune spirit. For the touch that bends you, the touch that breaks you, the touch that belongs to nobody else but him.

The lifeless bodies on the floor, the blood painted across the walls, the strife he’s caused here…that’s only the tip of the iceberg. It’s only a fraction of what he feeds off of. 

What he truly needs to survive…is you.

You know this. You’ve always known this. And you adore it, truthfully. Adore the way your body, your pleasure, your pain is his destiny. Is the reason he exists. The way he spends each moment tortured by the thought of consuming you. 

It’s what drives him.

Like now. With all this chaos in the air (and on the floor), he can’t leave, he can’t move on until he gets what he really came for.

You.

And you’re not cruel. You’re not unfair. You’ll give him exactly what he wants, and you’ll do it gleefully.

He growls in the back of his throat when he feels you clench around his fingers. When he feels your nails scratch down his white shirt that’s stained crimson. When he feels you finally let yourself go.

And each kiss, each bite, each thrust is made for you. To own you, to have you, to ravish you. 

Stiles Stilinski is many things.

Focused has always been one of them.

You can hear the sirens in the distance. The fleet of vehicles as they surround the building and screech to a stop. The sounds of stomping boots and the cocking of guns as they yell their orders and positions.

They’ve come to take him away.

And while Spencer has always done a rather good job of giving you both a head start, you don’t imagine Stiles’ old boss will be pleased to see him at the center of this unjust crime.

So, just before they can swing the doors to the hotel lobby open, you give him what he wants. You gasp his name and fall into his arms as he carries you through the moment. As he whispers, “S’a good fucking girl,” over and over until you wilt into his chest in an attempt to catch your breath. 

And he seethes your name under his breath, the power you’ve just given him unlike any other. The rush of control and dominance almost enough to knock him off his feet. 

But you’re both out of time. You can hear the sound of Hotch’s voice as he leads his men toward the hallway you both currently reside in. 

And as Stiles leans back, ready to flee, you catch his eye. His smug smile rather victorious and so fucking pleased as he takes your hand and yanks you away from the wall.

You manage to slip through the emergency exit in seconds before you race down the steps, away from the mess you helped create and toward your getaway car.

Tonight, he got lucky. You both did. Perhaps next time, you won’t be able to say the same. 

But then again...you suppose you’ll just have to wait to find out.

I’m in a Stiles mood, sorry 😭

~ Full Masterlist

~ Other Dylan Blurbs

[wandashousewife]

“Dear Child.” (Chapter Three)

Pairing — Wanda x Reader

Synopsis — Your father was notorious for going on failed tinder dates for years after your mother had left for her own reasons which she never told you. You never actually thought your father had a chance in the vast sea of relationships until you found out that one of his friends knew a European woman a couple years older than you who wanted to marry him. Strange.

Warnings — Failure dad, absent mother

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

In the intervening weeks since that pivotal night, a remarkable transformation had unfolded within the confines of your household—a metamorphosis characterized by the gradual dissolution of barriers and the emergence of newfound camaraderie between you and Wanda. What had once been shrouded in uncertainty and apprehension now blossomed into a blossoming friendship, marked by shared moments of laughter, companionship, and mutual understanding.

The advent of movie nights and shopping excursions served as tangible evidence of the deepening bond that now flourished between you, each shared experience a testament to the enduring power of connection forged amidst the backdrop of unlikely circumstances. In Wanda, you found not just a stepmother, but a confidante—a kindred spirit with whom to share life's joys and sorrows, a beacon of support amidst the tumult of adolescence.

As the days stretched into weeks, the once-distant horizon of familiarity now beckoned with the promise of shared adventures and cherished memories, a testament to the transformative power of human connection to bridge the vast expanse that separates strangers and kindred spirits alike. In Wanda, you had found not just a best friend, but a cherished companion—a steadfast ally whose presence illuminated the path forward, guiding you through the labyrinth of life's uncertainties with unwavering grace and unspoken understanding.

The two of you had started to really open up with one another. You trusted Wanda with the little nuances of your life that you didn’t want to share with anyone else—your family, friends, other classmates; no one except her. It was as if she saw you, really saw you, in a way that felt so natural, but so intimate, like she could read your heart. You had started to think of Wanda not only as your best friend and stepmother, but also as your confidante.

As the rain pelted against the windowpanes with a rhythmic cadence, enveloping the world outside in a shroud of gray, the comforting aroma of dinner wafted through the air, drawing you irresistibly into the heart of the kitchen. Against the backdrop of inclement weather, Wanda moved with effortless grace amidst the array of pots and pans, her deft hands orchestrating a culinary symphony that promised warmth and nourishment in equal measure.

The tantalizing scent of simmering spices and savory delights enveloped you like a welcoming embrace, coaxing you closer to the source of this culinary magic. With each step, anticipation swelled within you, mingling with the soothing patter of raindrops against the window as you crossed the threshold into the heart of the bustling kitchen.

There, amidst the gentle glow of lamplight, Wanda greeted you with a warm smile, her eyes alight with the flickering dance of candle flames. In her presence, the dreariness of the rainy evening faded into insignificance, replaced by a sense of comfort and camaraderie that transcended the confines of mere companionship. As you settled into the comforting embrace of the kitchen, the promise of shared moments and cherished memories beckoned, a beacon of light amidst the encroaching darkness of the stormy night.

You and Wanda chatted for a bit about your respective day before Wanda went to the stove to stir and check on whatever she was cooking. Her back was turned towards you, giving you the excuse to look at her for a few seconds longer; to take in her form. It was always fascinating to watch how she carried herself. She had this air of grace and elegance that, even in casual clothes, made Wanda just… breathtaking, if you dare say.

You had been staring at her for a few good seconds—a few seconds too long, as it turns out—because before you knew it, Wanda had turned around to face you, a bright smile playing on her lips. She had noticed that you were staring at her and hadn’t been shy to call you out. “You looking at something?” “The air.”

She raises her eyebrow, clearly amused by your response. She knows you were staring at her and was testing you. “Really? I could’ve sworn you were staring at something else.”

“Nope!”

Wanda smiles slightly. “Uh-huh.” She leans back against the countertop. “You sure about that?” Her tone is playful, as if she’s teasing you. But the underlying meaning in her question is one of suspicion—after all, she had just caught you peeking.

You then lifted yourself on the countertop and sat down, your legs dangling from the strangely tall height.

Wanda couldn’t help but notice how your feet dangled from the countertop, how much closer you were physically to her. She wasn’t sure when, but you hadn’t sat this close to her before either. It made her feel a bit uneasy, but she pushed those thoughts away and tried to ignore her nervousness.

“So,” she starts, smiling at you, “anything on your mind tonight?”

“Not really, I might head to the mall with my friends later. Apparently there’s a sale.” You sighed, remembering how hyped your friends were to go to this stupid sale. You couldn’t care less that it was Black Friday.

She chuckles. “I don’t get the obsession with Black Friday deals when you can literally buy stuff cheaper online.” She shrugs. “But I guess the appeal might be that it’s the holiday season. Plus, it’s a great excuse to get out of the house and just be with friends.” She adds the last part with a slight glint in her eyes, obviously hinting at something.

“Hey, can I borrow your hoodie? It’s just going to be for the store and mine isn’t really dry yet…”

She smiles softly, and without hesitation, takes off her pink hoodie and hands it to you. It drapes perfectly over your body. You notice her staring at you again, taking in the sight of you in one of her hoodies. Her eyes seem to be locked onto your form, as if she were imagining something else. You notice this.

As you finish adjusting the garment, you notice a subtle shift in Wanda's demeanor—a fleeting moment of vulnerability that belies her usual confidence. With arms crossed over her chest and lips caught between her teeth, she exudes an air of uncertainty, her voice tinged with a softness that speaks volumes of the inner turmoil she seeks to conceal.

"It fits…" Her words hang in the air, suffused with a delicate balance of hope and trepidation. Beneath the surface, a palpable tension lingers—a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken emotions that swirl between you, waiting to be acknowledged and embraced.

In that fleeting moment, you catch a glimpse of the woman behind the facade—the layers of strength and vulnerability intertwined in a delicate dance of authenticity. As you meet her gaze, a silent understanding passes between you, bridging the gap that separates your respective worlds with the shared language of empathy and compassion.

“It does fit.” You smile, looking at her.

Her heart skips a beat as she stares at you, her eyes widening with sudden realization. Your eyes are fixed on her lips, and she can almost feel the intense scrutiny and the burning stare of your gaze. She fidgets nervously, taking a step away from you.

There's a brief, awkward moment of silence as the two of you exchange glances with one another. And then Wanda breaks the silence with a joke. “Does it really fit, though?”

“Girl, what are you talking about?” Your response makes Wanda blush. It was subtle, but nevertheless, you could tell she was caught off guard. Her cheeks turned a rosy pink and her eyes widened. A brief, awkward moment of silence ensued before Wanda spoke up, “Well, you're—you know—” She trails off, the smile disappearing from her face.

“I’m what?”

Wanda blushes even more and her voice is barely audible. “You’re beautiful, that's what I mean.” She clears her throat. “The sweatshirt covers you in a way that makes you look amazing. More so than me, I’d say.”

Her compliment seems genuine, almost as if she’s unaware of her own beauty. But as she’s talking, her gaze shifts away from you and down towards her hands, which she’s fidgeting with. There’s a brief flicker in the girlish sparkle of her eyes.

“Thanks, but I have to go now.” You softly laughed at her awkwardness, taking it as platonic compliments. “Dads about to come home from work and I am not going to hear his complaining.”

Her face falls slightly, but she forces a smile on her lips to conceal her sudden dismay. “Yeah. Have a good one.” She shrugs, glancing down as she watches you leave.

But despite your reassurance, she can’t shake the sense that there was something more. A hint of longing in your eyes. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

She watches your back as you walk out of the kitchen, biting her lip as she struggles to process her own feelings.

[ringleaderising]

@avalonianrising You might want to up your security.

"He surely can't be far now, we just caught his trail near shadow two days ago, Pig- at this rate we're going to miss the girls' first godfall-" "it's fine, we've got weeks before then- of course, we could just call it here an' let him terrorize every clan he stumbles into-" "No, no, we'll find him." "Then stop hasslin' me! the boy can't be far, I just need to focus on sniffin' him out in these here woods."

Though occluding mist might be a pitfall for his father, it's hardly a stopping block for someone short enough that the mists hang above his range of vision, and finding his next hideout seems to be just as simple as following desire paths cut through towering trees. He's no stranger to Nature's forests, learning how to climb and eventually to fly in an effort to ensure he could keep up with his stronger sisters meant quite a bit of time spent in the Viridian Labyrinth- but this clan is new! Runt supposes Pig's distaste for meeting any strangers extends to avoiding the dragons who populate even the wooded safety of the lush greenery Runt remembers from when his siblings were his size.

So maybe it's just luck, that in the face of having never been here before, Runt finds a tavern not unlike the one at Vaudemire Way- he'd stopped there before, and the guardian barkeep in shiny white armor was a far cry from what he's seeing now. He's barely tall enough to reach the counter, stood on tiptoes and balancing on his tail as he attempts to get the attention of the imperial behind it- but over the din of the visitors, it's easier said than done.

"hey! hey mister!" He puffs his cheeks, as he finds it impossible to get the stranger's attention- but his attention is quickly taken by the presence of a pile of shiny golden treasure left behind on the counter as Vanadev walks by.

He's got sticky little claws on the coins a moment later, knocking them into the floor and smearing red on the countertops before he realizes the imp bartender's attention is now decidedly on him.

"Thank you! I can buy my cleaver with this! I'm gonna get- get a big one. One... one even bigger than Daddy's- with flames. oh oh! made out of obsidian-" ignoring the morality of small children entrusted with giant knives, that is Vanadev's tip- so maybe it's no surprise when he's soundly shooed out of the tavern doors.

But they should really lock their back ones. It's the smell of something tasty that lures the little menace back inside, and into the comfortable embrace of something to eat- he appears from a barrel of fish just in time to come nose-to-nose with who certainly seems to be the chef of the tavern, the Coatl clearly a little alarmed at the presence of a dirty little circus clown in their ingredients.

"You have good fish here-" He declares, spilling bodily out of the bucket, rounder than he'd been when he entered it. He expects to be shooed off again- but he's quickly offered a proper meal- something he'd probably take Cahir up on, if he didn't hear the bartender conversing with someone with a familiar, rough cadence.

"looking for a guardian hatchling. about yay-tall." "Clown paint?" "...that's the one." "I just shooed him off for- HEY WAIT- He stole-" "Lady above- Sow, pay the man."

"Oh boy- Thanks for the fish! and the tea! I gotta go!"

[cutebutalsostabby]

So today I learned that Shadow Zelda is a character from Cadence of Hyrule and now I need to know if there's a Shadow version of Ganondorf to complete the Shadow Triforce. The closest thing I know of is Phantom Ganon, but he's made out of malice or something, right?

Also, going back to the stuff about Hyrule's backstory, I think he could probably be from one of the countries that Legend visited? Like Hytopia or something. He did quests in neighboring countries, and since Hyrule isn't technically from Hyrule I'm kind of assuming that somewhere along the line Legend had a kid or kids somewhere like that. And it wouldn't be unreasonable for bordering countries to absorb pieces of Hyrule or for it to be no man's land depending on how politics work there. Does that make any sense?

There are shadow versions of each of the protagonists in Cadence of Hyrule, but not Ganondorf. In fact, I'm pretty sure the game only features Beast Ganon? You can fight Dark versions of a whole heap of characters in Hyrule Warriors adventure mode. Only actual canonical Dark Ganondorf would be Phantom Ganon though.

Yeah, Hyrule could totally be from one of the surrounding countries Legend visited, or from a new nation that emerged over time! The Zelda II map vaguely matches the very top right corner of the BotW map, including Death Mountain and Labyrinth Island, but that leaves a LOT of land unaccounted for. So even if Legend's family stayed in or around his old home in central Hyrule (a little south-east of the castle, based on the ALttP map), that would be well outside of the Hyrule of Hyrule's era.

Zelda II map:

Rough match on the BotW map, give or take some volcanic activity:

Overall BotW map:

[desmorotu]

vincent’s playlist 🫧 (a glimpse)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒

☆ as the world falls down - david bowie (at the Summit, if Lovely was revealed to Vincent instead of greeting guests with him, this would have been the song that played while they made their way to him. just like in the Labyrinth, this song gives that mystical, romantic feel. he’d stare in awe, mouth agape until he swallows thickly or until Sam comes up to close it for him LMAO. he’d chuckle in disbelief, looking deeply into their eyes with his kohl-lined ones and stuttering his words. he’d lick his glossy lips and trace his gaze down. “ex-fucking-scuse me? you look incredible, Lovely.”)

☆ square hammer - ghost (loves the intro, the lyric cadence, the sound of papa’s voice, and especially the thought of seeing it live. he was more of a rocker kind of guy growing up, always adorning band tees and silver chains of some kind. the year he was turned, in fact, was when he was the most into the style part of the subculture. after he turned he had decided to keep most of his piercings, including his triple lobe, helix, eyebrow, and nose ones. he fears that taking them out will heal them immediately because of his power, even if he knows it’s not technically true. he keeps this kind of music near and dear to his heart.)

☆ lovesong - the cure (loves driving to this song. whether it’s sunshine, rain, clear skies or cloudy, this song has to play at least once. he puts on his sunglasses and bobs his head to the beat, glancing over at Lovely often and smiling to himself when they’re doing the same. he plays it when they’re at home doing chores too, having a mini dance party for themselves. they go out to goth clubs often for the same atmosphere and to get new songs on their lists.)

☆ kiss me until my lips fall off - lebanon hanover (loves the bass. he sways his whole body if he chooses to dance, raising his hands above his head and “plucking cobwebs.” he likes reciting the lyrics to Lovely as a silly way to ask for kisses. loves the drums and the deep tone of the vocals, humming it to himself even if he’s not much of a singer.)

(suggestive/sexual annotation below)

☆ not my type: dead as fuck 2 - motionless in white (“she loves me ‘cause i like to give head like a zombie—eat! eat! eat!—‘til her insides are on me” …those lyrics low key [high key] turn him on and they burn a fiery heat into his chest. as a man with an oral fixation on both the giving and receiving end, the thought of his lover being so desperate to have their mouth on him sends his thoughts into a carnal frenzy. simultaneously, the lyrics make him want to grab Lovely, throw them on any flat surface, and let the lyrics speak for themselves. he always has his mouth on them, whether he’s kissing their neck + shoulders, back, hands, arms, chest, stomach, thighs—anywhere they’ll allow him, really. there’s rarely a time where Lovely doesn’t have hickeys, but it’s not always in a sexual light. he just likes to have his mouth on them.)

☆ dive in - pierce the veil (this song strikes a chord in his heart for a reason he can’t explain; perhaps it’s the piano mixed in with the intense guitar and drums? perhaps it’s because the song goes too fast for him to focus on his thoughts? he plays this in his headphones on full blast when he needs to pay attention to anything other than his mind. his favorite part is the octave jump and the beat drop near the end!)

☆ props and mayhem - pierce the veil (he doesn’t branch out too much when it comes to music, so a lot of his playlist is just ptv. he loves the lyrics and finds solace in them, despite how vic fuentes probably does not understand that he wrote lyrics relatable to a vampire and his supernatural culture. the song strangely reminds him of his last few years as a human. when this song plays, he thinks about the stranger from the Surge line. he hopes they’re peaceful.)

(slightly suggestive annotation below)

☆ god complex - violent vira (when he listens to this song, his movements instinctively get more sensual and calculated. it’s not intentional, but the slow feeling of the music brings him to be a more captivating “predator.” sultry eyes, wet lips, and smooth touches often bring Lovely to a state of “aroused confusion,” as they call it. it’s like a switch; as soon as the song’s off, he goes back to normal. in most cases, however, the song ends long before Lovely is done with him. if vincent had a sex playlist, he’d think of adding this song.)

☆ love gun - kiss (SAM SHOWED HIM THIS SONG!! he absolutely loves the sick ass bass line and the cool lyrics. he agrees with sam’s sentiments that paul stanley’s voice is one of the best in rock history. he feels cool as fuck when this song comes on—especially when he’s driving. he drums on the steering wheel and taps his free foot in the floorboard. when he’s able to dance, you bet he most certainly will. he wishes he pursued his talent on the guitar, but he unfortunately no longer practices.)

☆ rosemary - deftones (“TIIIIIME SHIFT.” he loves the build up, the guitar, the seeming desperation in the vocals, and the overall tone of the song. he has to bite his knuckles to shut down the feeling that this song gives him. he breaks out in goosebumps and he loves how full and warm the sound is, especially when listening with headphones. he doesn’t really like how long it is, but it’s a personal preference that he excuses for the “dope ass vibes,” as Lovely likes to say.”

refer to vincent’s playlist cover at the bottom :)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒

vincent is honestly the inspiration behind the song association in general, but asher’s song happened to come on while casually listening and i couldn’t help but make his post then and there. this one stays in the same kind of realm of music for the most part; i feel like vincent isn’t a super musical person anymore but he used to really enjoy it and is trying to get back into it. these are just my opinions! in my mind, vincent is on the goth side of things with a mix of a bunch of different musical subcultures thrown in. if you want more, lmk :3 (i will make them anyways, but if you desire a specific character then you need only ask!) @morgansplace

i wanna write mini fics but UGHHH i don’t think my writing is good enough smh. maybe i’ll do it anyways at some point.

k bye 💟

[desisutra]

Sukha Darpana - The Mirror of Pleasure

In the intoxicating tapestry of tradition, Shobagini Sundari emerges anew, draped in the divine Kanakavarna saree. The sacred illusion shattered, her form is no longer a mere reflection of virtue; it's a lascivious dance of desires veiled beneath golden threads. The royal blue Nila Peetavastra clings provocatively, telling tales that titillate and tantalize, mirroring the bewitching contrast she embodies.

As Shobagini Sundari sensually graces the vibrant streets, passion ignites in her eyes, beckoning you into a secret world beneath the sanskari illusion. The regal dance begins—a rhythmic seduction accentuating the explicit contrast between tradition and the unshackled Veshya spirit within.

Feel the golden saree's lascivious rustle against Shobagini's skin, a symphony crescendoing with each sensuous step. The fragrance of jasmine doesn't just waft; it envelops as if the blossoms themselves whisper carnal secrets with every breeze. The subtle hum of bustling streets intertwines with the enticing cadence of her movements, inviting you to lose yourself in the alluring dance of opulence.

"In the embrace of Kanakavarna, I become a living poem, each fold whispering tales of desire. The Nila Peetavastra? It's the provocateur, revealing more than it conceals. As jasmine weaves through the tale, the narrative unfolds, a provocative script written in the language of passion."

However, Shobagini's journey into decadence takes an audacious turn. The allure of tradition is momentarily set aside as she ventures into the indulgent world of the Aqua Blue Bikini. The transition is not just a change of attire; it's a decadent narrative shift, a departure from the restrained elegance of the saree to the unabashed sensuality of the bikini.

Guided by enigmatic mentors in the secret chambers of luxury, Shobagini learns the art of showcasing her body with an alluring flair. Private tutors in the erotic arts impart the secrets of allure, transforming her into a mistress of temptation. This education extends beyond the secluded confines of her opulent estate, where Shobagini discreetly invites royal kings for private shows, each encounter becoming a lesson in intimate exploration, a dance of pleasure tailored to the whims of royalty.

"In the dimly lit chambers where she entertains kings, Shobagini's lewd whispers fill the air. 'Kneel not just in admiration but in surrender, as kings before you have. My body, a throne of pleasure, awaits your royal decree. Shall we rule the kingdom of ecstasy together?' she provocatively challenges, her eyes ablaze with the audacity of her desires."

Close your eyes, and let the lascivious rustle of the golden saree infiltrate your senses—a symphony harmonizing with the alluring hum of bustling streets. As the aqua blue bikini strings delicately caress Shobagini's sun-kissed skin, experience a lewd journey—an intoxicating combination drawing you into a state where the opulence of Shobagini Sundari's world becomes a symphony of pleasure, each movement an unabashed act of allure.

"In the kingdom of decadence, I reign supreme, and my whims are the law. Can you keep up with the tempo of my desires or will you be lost in the opulent labyrinth of my cravings?" she provocatively questions, her tone challenging the very essence of your ability to navigate her world.

Shobagini's eyes, deep pools of desire, gaze unapologetically into your soul, inviting you to surrender to the intoxicating allure of her world. Her lips, painted in a subtle hue, part sensuously, whispering forbidden secrets that linger in the air like an irresistible spell. As she raises her arms, the scent of jasmine unveils the delicate curve of her armpits, an intimate revelation that adds an alluring layer to the symphony of indulgence.

"Adorned in the jewels of desire, I beckon you into the realm of ecstasy. My gaze, a bewitching spell; my lips, a tapestry of temptation. Can you resist the allure or shall you succumb to the seduction woven into every fiber of my being?" Shobagini challenges, her voice a sultry melody resonating with the promise of untamed pleasure.

The Aqua Blue Bikini, a mere whisper against her sun-kissed skin, becomes a vessel of decadence, accentuating curves that defy the constraints of modesty. Shobagini's laughter, a provocative aria, echoes through the chambers of luxury, each note an invitation to revel in the lascivious dance of indulgence.

"In the embrace of the Aqua Blue Bikini, I shed the veils of modesty, embracing the unabashed dance of desire. The strings that adorn me, a symphony of pleasure, inviting you to explore the opulent landscape of my sensuality," she declares, her voice a bold proclamation that resonates with the promise of hedonistic exploration.

In this saga of opulence and eroticism, Shobagini Sundari stands as a living paradox—a Sanskara illusion shattered, a trophy of decadence and desire, beckoning you to partake in the forbidden fruits of her world. 💖👑🔥