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ichore · 1 month

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STUDY OF A SCANDAL | NEUVILLETTE

synopsis: a starving journalist, the iudex of fontaine and reader, the most talented soprano of teyvat all attend a ball at the opera epiclese where one scandal follows another as a storm does not allow anyone to leave.

tags, warnings: heavy drugs (aphrodisiac, ecstasy), involuntary drug consumption, neuvillette x afab!reader, reader is a talented singer, reader is secretly a water creature as old as Neuvi, MONSTER FUCKING, Neuvillette's takes reader in semi dragon form, journalist is a pos, cunnilingus, p -> v, unprotected, oh the consequences

wc: est 3.3k

It begins with a tear rolling down on the porcelain skin of the Iudex of Fontaine's full cheek.

As you stand tall all alone on the platform of the Opera Epiclese, not a shred of whisper or mumble leaves the people of the water nation - it's only your voice that vibrates in between their bodies, it crawls at the high walls and crimson drapes and threatens to never leave. You've sung these songs many times across all of Teyvat; you're considered an Honored Guest wherever you decided to set foot. But your heart belongs to Fontaine, and such is evident in the way your gaze lingers on its people ahead of you.

Then, as if it's supposed to be part of your show, as the last note of your last song bubbles in your throat, a clash of thunders shakes the building.

The Melusines are quick on their short legs to inform everyone to stay inside, and whereas there's no need to worry, it would be best if everyone waited in the Opera Epiclese until the storm ended. Curses and hisses rumble across the people meanwhile the Iudex of Fontaine leaves his seat and his noiseless steps carry him to his office. It's only you who notices how his shoulders rise and fall in the familiar motion of weeping, how his cloth napkin soaks in the tears that escape him despite his greatest effort to soothe himself.

“If it's fine with everyone,” you begin with your voice exhausted and slightly croak from your show. “I have enough cakes and fruits to invite everyone for a spontaneous little ball to spend the time. I'm sure my colleagues would love to entertain you with their music, as well.”

The storm is almost like a gift to you: finally you don't have to worry about wasting all the precious food that people gift you. Usually you give the majority away for the poor, but because finding such families takes time, a good amount still spoils. Such kindness in your heart is the second reason Teyvat adores you, and that same tenderness makes you rush after the Iudex with your dress held a bit higher in your fists so you don't trip.

“Excuse me?” you hear a nervous male voice call out to you, and you reluctantly stop in your tracks to offer a smile to the journalist standing ahead of you. He's skinny, too skinny to be healthy, you think. His hair crown is already fading from the top of his head, the lilac bruise of exhaustion rests under his eyes, but you suppose that he cannot be more than thirty.

“I'm happy to give you an interview later. I'm rather busy with something right now, I hope you don't mind.” you say.

“No, not at all. I just wanted to give you this.” He pulls out a heart-shaped, crimson silk wrapped box from under his arm. Chocolate, more food, great. “I know what you're thinking, but this is the Iudex's favorite and the filling is the finest Valberry jam from Mondstadt. It's very hard to get a box of these nowadays.”

“Oh, my,” you fill your heart sink at the thought of the trouble this poor man went through just to please you, and the furrow of your brow lets him know that you're sold before you take away the box. “I can't thank you enough. Is it okay with you if I share it with the Iudex? You mentioned it's also his favorite.”

“Well, yes, of course. Please enjoy. But I suppose you're in a hurry, so I shall leave you to it.” he bows as he takes your free, white silk cloaked hand and presses your knuckles against his chapped lips. “It was a pleasure meeting you. You're just as beautiful and kind as the rumors say so.”

“Thank you, once again.” you bob a quick curtsy to him before leaving him behind. He watches the white, lacy patterns on the bottom of your turquoise dress wash against the floor as you continue your hurried steps to one Melusine to another to find Monsieur Neuvillette. A smirk deepens at the side of his mouth as he watches you open the box and eat the first piece of chocolate while you wait to be let into his office, and he's already thinking about just how many good pictures he's going to take of you and the Iudex.

A shiver runs across your spine, gooseflesh blooms on your skin when you finally stand ahead of Neuvillette. He's facing his high windows, taking in the view of the year's most brutal storm: trees are bending and breaking, the wind carries away the flowers of the streets and he notices some personal possessions fly across the asphalt. As the Iudex, he's already thinking about how to fix this mess. But as Neuvillette, he can't stop his body from shaking.

“Apologies for leaving without a word. Your show was most exquisite … it touched my soul in ways I cannot find the words to describe.” The tremble in his voice is enough for you to understand the waves of emotions that wash through him.

“Don't worry, Monsieur. Knowing my music has these effects on such a great man like yourself is a compliment on its own. I will remember it for the rest of my life with pride.” Despite him having his back facing you, you can see on the reflection of the window that his usually bright gaze is darker and they're fixated on your form. You offer a slight curtsy, and you swear it's only a long second that you close your eyes for, yet when you lift your chin, he's standing closer to you with his face ahead of yours. He's so close, you can smell the lavender oil the Melusines treat his luscious hair with and the sea salt that they use to wash his clothes.

“And proud is what you should be,” he begins. “It's been a long time since I've felt such an emotional turmoil. Yet, I don't think the language you sing in is familiar to me.”

“It's a dead language,” you nod. Your fingers begin to play with the material of your dress at your sides. “My mother taught it to me when I was little. I know phrases and words, but I can't tell you where the language is from or who used it.”

“No one else speaks this language, yet you manage to touch all of Teyvat with it. You're a real talent, and it's been my pleasure to have you visit our nation.”

“Oh, it's been a pleasure more of mine, really.” You flash your pearly white teeth at him in a smile, and you swear that at the same second, from his window, you can see the storm lose its vigor and turn into a windless pour of rain. “I just wanted to check upon you, and share this box of chocolate with you at the same time if it's fine with you. A kind gentleman gave this to me saying that this is your favorite.”

“Strange, I can't recall ever seeing, let alone tasting such a dessert from Mondstadt.” He hums against the side of his index finger while musing. In the back of your mind, you already know that someone would lie about such a thing, but a strange, hurricane-like sensation washes across you as you stare at the man towering right ahead of you. The distinct color of his eyes, the ivory color of his healthy locks, the perfect pale skin are all calling to you for a touch, and you press your thighs together as your liquid desire begins to swell in between your folds. “How was it?”

“I'm sorry, what was the question?” you shake your head and laugh a little to be able to tear your stare away from him. The heat is already rising to your head, painting your cheeks rosy with a deep blush.

“I can see you already ate one. Was it to your liking?” the vibrations of his voice are more apparent, you realize, and it pains you that you can't swallow them in a kiss right now.

“Yes, Monsieur. I think it's quite nice. Has a little bit of a strange aftertaste, but otherwise it's delicious. The Valberry jam filling is extraordinary. ”

“Please, call me Neuvillette,” he returns your smile as he takes one of heart shaped chocolates into his mouth before he motions towards the couch, insisting that you sit down while he places the box on his table. “It's delicious indeed. I suppose I can trust your judgment when it comes to sweets in the future.”

“Thank you, Neuvillette.” You whisper. Sweat already begins to pearl at your hairline and on your nape by the time he takes off his cloak and his weight sinks into the couch so painfully close to you, you can feel his thigh brush against yours through your dress.

“If it isn't too much to ask,” he begins. “Can you tell me what the story is behind your last song?”

“Well… it's a love story. A tragic one.” his colors appear brighter and clearer with each passing second, his icy appearance calling to you for a release from this burning that consumes you within. You can't look him in the eyes anymore, you realize while watching your fingers get lost in the vibrant color of your skirt. “It's about two lovers who were washed apart by the Archons and the primordial sea, never to see each other again, forced to spend their entire lives yearning for the other. But one day, they meet, but one doesn't remember the other anymore.”

“Sounds Fontanian,” Neuvillette muses as he loosens the knot on his scarf, revealing his swan-like neck to you. “Apologies, it's awfully hot in here today.”

“No worries,” you offer a smile, but the first sweat drop already begins to roll down on your temple and in your thoughts, you're mumbling thousands of curses at how tight your corset is. Yet, you do not find yourself wishing for air, but yearning to steal it from Neuvillette’s lungs. “My mother was from Fontaine, so it does make sense that the language originated from somewhere here.”

“Makes it even stranger that I can't recall hearing it before, however - ”

“Neuvillette …I,” you cut into his words, hesitating to continue your words, but you're certain that you're edging closer and closer to fainting if you don't get some air soon. “It's very unethical of me to ask you, but would you be so kind as to loosen my corset for me a little?”

“Of course,” and the moment you touch his reached out hand to help you stand up, you wish you could tell him that it doesn't matter anymore and that you just need to go outside. But the rain is still pouring and the haze on your mind refuses to leave. The touch of his fingers are ever so delicate and delicious as they open the back of your dress to get to your corset. Your neck tilts and a sigh leaves your lips as the pressure on your ribs eases, and in your moment of relief, you don't notice Neuvillette's halt in his movements.

The sight of the crook of your neck invites him in for a kiss as his arms circle around your waist under your dress - at first, his touches are unsure, but as a satisfied hum leaves you, his arms tighten around you and his kisses travel from your neck to your jaw. Your eyelashes flutter when your gaze meets his, as if to give him permission to his begging eyes, that yes, he can very much kiss you. His lips feel like the sweetest sea foam: so delightful and gentle, and you can finally feel your lungs be filled with his being. You push your dress down, making it pool around your feet while Neuvillette's hands brush up on your belly to reach the front of your corset before pushing it off you and letting it fall on the dress.

“You're so beautiful,” he whispers, and you feel his cock twitch against your ass as he begins to fondle your breasts. He swallows every whimper that escapes your lips when he takes each of your nipples in between his fingers, playing a rough game with them. “I adore your voice, the noises you make. The thought of making you sing in pleasure for me is driving me mad. Please, let me make you mine.”

“I'm yours, all yours,” you're ready to beg for more, but as if he can read your thoughts, he lays you across the couch before he frees you of your panties, panty hoes and shoes. For a brief second, you can hear a clicking sound from the distance, but the desire entirely engulf you both that you don't notice the barely open entrance door and the journalist with his camera. If this all wasn't for him being able to put bread on his table, he would've admitted that there is something magical about the way Neuvillette's tongue finds all the right spots in your cunt. It really does make a sensational picture: the Iudex of Fontaine devouring Teyvat's most famous soprano like his life depends on it.

But for Neuvillette, that feeling is as real as your hands holding onto his ivory hair. For a while, he wondered what got into him, but his words to you were true and the sounds that escape you makes him throw away every logical reasoning as to why he shouldn't suck on your clit or push his tongue so deep into you that it makes you cry out.

“Right there, hng, please -” his eyes that were fixated on you the whole time now roll back as he feels the gush of your ecstasy pour into his mouth. He can't help, but get rid of his own clothes in fast but drunken movements, and he's ready to get back on top of you before something feral awakens in him. It's the glowing of his irises that you notice first between your thighs, then you swear that you can see his tongue stretch and part into two at its tip while his suddenly longer nails rake across your sides. This time, he's eating at you with primal hunger while one of his grip finds his growing cock and strokes it in the same fast rhythm his tongue dances inside you. You scream, you squirm, but it only makes him become all the more fast and rough as his upper lip rubs against your clit.

“What the fuck,” the journalist mumbles under his breath, his eyes widening in terror as Neuvillette's lower body grows navy blue scales, a forked tail emerges from the end of his spine and his dick is becoming dark and enormous enough that seemingly only the tip would be enough to fill you up. With shaky hands, he takes a picture.

“So it is you, hng, fuck-” you try to tell Neuvillette as another, but more powerful climax numbs your mind. Your heart flutters at the man standing ahead of you, and your love is the only thing that helps you think straight. “I've been looking for you my whole life, Hydro Dragon, my love.”

“You're not terrified…” Neuvillette notes, his chest sinking with a sigh of relief before he questions what you said to him. It's an animalistic instinct that makes him kneel between your legs, rubbing his entire length across your folds to coat it in the mixture of his spit and your sticky juices. A whimper leaves your lips each time his thick head threatens to push into your entrance. “You're not human either, are you?”

“No,” you say simply as green scales begin to form on your thighs where Neuvillette is stroking you before they disappear again. Fighting your lavender haze of lingering orgasm, you sit up to take his tip in your palm to rub it for him as you continue. “I'm a siren. So don't worry, I can take this.”

“The song…” his brows furrow as you position his cock against your pussy, and begin to push yourself against it. It's painfully slow: he can feel every crook and cany of your insides, the blood in your veins welcoming him, the very wetness and warmth of you swallowing him so eagerly until his balls meet your ass. He shudders.

“It's about us, my love. You forgot about me.” You moan as you feel your insides adjust to his size. No matter how many human lovers you took over the millennium, no one and nothing ever compares to Neuvillette.

“Forgive me,” his lizard-like tongue dances along with yours as he wraps his arms around you and lifts you up into the air. Your legs wrap around his waist, your arms hold him in a sweaty embrace as he begins to slowly pull you up and down on the length of his cock. “Forgive me.”

“It was never your fault, hng, please go faster.” you beg of him as you look down at the sight of the two of you. His legs are of a dragon, his black claws digging at the wooden floor to hold himself in place as he begins to pick up the pace.

“I remember this,” he whispers as he loses himself in the feeling of you wraps around his entire being: your sound, your smell, your eyes. He remembers it all now, and his thrusts become rougher as if he feels angry at all the years you didn't spend together. Not only did they take you from him, they didn't even leave the memory of you. Tears begin to pour from his eyes as he kisses you again, his arms tighten around you and his thrusts become sloppy, but the clenching of your orgasm pushes him over his own pinnacle and he paints your walls white with his seed.

“Don't cry, my love,” you stroke his hair while his tears fall on your collarbone after he gently places you on the couch and he lays on top of you, his body slowly transforming back to human. “We found each other, that's all that matters.”

“What about you? Your loneliness? Your fright?” his voice shakes, and you can hear another powerful wind jerk at the buildings outside.

“I've always known we'd find our way back to each other. When I was lonely, I always recalled nights like this or when you were crying because of a song about a fish family when my parents invited you over to their coral palace. I've always remembered the kindness of your heart, and I carried it with me as my companion.” you comfort him and a smile tugs at your lips as the gray clouds begin to part on the sky, and the sunlight seeps through. You think about asking Neuvillette if he wants to check on the guests, but you find him with his eyes closed and deep in a slumber.

As you are trapped beneath him and you can't hear music anymore, you suppose that everyone else already left and you can also rest.

Until you hear the click sound of a camera.

“Needless to say, you're fired,” the Chief Editor of Steambird doesn't even bother to open the envelope that contains the erotic pictures of Neuvillette and you before she tears it into shreds. “Drugging the Iudex AND a Teyvat famous star? What were you even thinking? Hell, I even doubt you were thinking at all.”

“But…” the journalist begins, but the Editor holds up her hand to halt his words.

“You're to leave this company effective immediately. And if I were you, I'd be crawling on my knees to Monsieur Neuvillette for an apology and a huge thank you for not having you executed for treason.”

And with two boxes of worthless papers and without a penny in his pocket, the only mortal who knows your love story and your true being becomes your enemy.

#neuvillete x reader #neuvillette #genshin impact x reader #iudex neuvillette #header painted by Francesco Paolo Hayez #tw: monster fucking #tw: drugs #tw: smut

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marybeatriceofmodena · 2 years

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What did Andrew Lloyd Webber do to make Patti Lupone upset? Sorry, saw your tags and i was curious

Oh.

Oh honey.

You sweet child.

Anyway, get ready for one of the most infamous showdowns in all musical theatre history, with the guy who writes the straightest musicals on Broadway (derogatory) and the one and only, the matriarch, the queen, two three-time Tony award winner Patti LuPone.

So, Andrew Lloyd Webber was basically kind of a boy genius in his prime - he met his future collaborator Tim Rice when they were 17 and 20 respectively, he wrote his first big hit, Jesus Christ Superstar, at 22, with Tim Rice writing the lyrics. And it was kind of a big deal at the time because the topic was controversial (you know, the Passion with rock music), but also because Broadway wasn't that far off from its golden age and let's just say the music and style were very different from, say, My Fair Lady. Or The Sound of Music. Or Funny Girl. It was basically the Rent/Hamilton of its time. (Yeah, Stephen Sondheim was around at that time, he worked on West Side Story which was revolutionary in of itself, but he's kind of an oddball in this case. You'll understand why later.)

Their real follow up (I'm not counting Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat for a variety of reasons) was a little musical called Evita, which you might know mainly because of a song called Don't Cry For Me Argentina. Or at least, your mom has probably heard it once at the very least. It's that song that's oversung from a musical while being out of context along with I Dreamed a Dream for Les Misérables. Or Memory from Cats.

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Evita tells the story of Eva Peron, the wife of an Argentinian dictator, who basically screws her way to the top and ends up becoming the mistress of Juan Peron and the most beloved woman in her country through guile and deceit. Yes, I know the historical accuracy is very much debated but I know jackshit about Argentina's history except the bare basics so don't come at me. It was first produced in the West End in London, with Elaine Paige in the role, but because of Equity issues, she couldn't reprise her role for the Broadway production. So a Julliard graduate who was mostly starring in David Mamet plays got the part instead, and that was Patti LuPone.

Patti... did not have a good time during Evita, because the part is basically the kind of score where you can tell the composer is used to writing male parts, but most female singers have a two-octave range (yes, you got Julie Andrews who used to have a three-octave range, and many others, but they're exceptions), so she struggled a lot. That being said, if you listen to live recordings of her, you wouldn't be able to tell, and it got a lot easier later on. But she had this to say:

"Evita was the worst experience of my life. I was screaming my way through a part that could only have been written by a man who hates women. And I had no support from the producers, who wanted a star performance onstage but treated me as an unknown backstage. It was like Beirut, and I fought like a banshee."

This is from Patti's autobiography, which she wrote in 2007 - 8 years after shit with ALW went down. With all that said, she won a Tony Award for Evita, and she pretty much became a musical theatre household name from then on. She played Fantine in Les Misérables, Nancy in Oliver!, Reno Sweeney in Anything Goes. Meanwhile, ALW's next big hits were Cats (I'm not even kidding, Cats was a hit), and, you guessed it, The Phantom of the Opera, which he wrote in part to showcase his then wife Sarah Brightman's triple threat talents.

So, you need to understand before I continue that ALW, from my perspective, has always had a bit of an inferiority complex. He's basically associated to writing these commercially successful musicals that show a big spectacle but aren't ultimately substantial. I'm not sure I entirely agree with that, but I do think that if he didn't have Hal Prince, Maria Bjornson, Charles Hart and Gillian Lynne backing him up for Phantom, it would have probably been a Rocky Horror Picture Show knockoff people would have forgotten about pretty quickly. This is what I mean:

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Yep, that was Phantom before any of the people I mentioned above (and Michael Crawford) were really involved.

Remember how I said Stephen Sondheim was an oddball? The thing with him is that his musicals weren't always commercially successful, but in general, in part thanks to being Leonard Bernstein's protégé, he was generally pretty well-respected and it was considered that his work was bringing musicals to a whole other level. Without Sondheim, you wouldn't have Jonathan Larson, and you wouldn't have Lin-Manuel Miranda. I am convinced ALW is resentful of that, and when you stop and think about it for more than 10 seconds, it's so obvious he REALLY wants to be Sondheim or at least command the same level of respect, but that's a story for another day.

So, after Phantom, ALW had other musicals that followed that either got a meh reception or outright flopped. Then there was Sunset Boulevard, which is based on the movie of the same name with Gloria Swanson. Despite all of her griefs for Evita, Patti LuPone agreed to partake in the musical as Norma Desmond, for its production in London, with the promise that she would transfer to Broadway once that production would open. And overall, after a string of flops, Sunset was actually doing pretty well.

HOWEVER. One day, while reading the gossip column of a newspaper, Patti found out that contrary to what she was promised, Glenn Close, who was meanwhile starring as Norma in the Los Angeles production, was to play Norma on Broadway. That was a complete surprise for her since no one on the production team had bothered to tell her it was happening - and keep in mind that for the news to come up the way it did in a gossip column, it probably would have necessitated a delay of a few weeks between the producers and the newspaper, which would have given them plenty of time to break the news to Patti. And Patti kind of needed the leg up because she was pretty bitter that a) Madonna was cast in the Evita adaptation instead of her; b) they actually lowered the key to fit Madonna's voice range, and she still had to expand her own to be able to sing the (lowered) score. And trust me, Patti is mad about it to this day.

So of course, she trashed her dressing room, the cast and crew weren't even mad about it because they were as shocked and angered as she was by the news. Patti sued Andrew Lloyd Webber for breach of contract, namely for 1 MILLION DOLLARS (yup, those are the real numbers), won, used the money she got from the lawsuit to get a swimming pool, which she called (and I SHIT YOU NOT) the Andrew Lloyd Webber Memorial Pool. Since then, Webber is dead to her, to the point rumor has it she had part of a building blocked during an event so she could get out of it without coming across Webber, because she hates him so flipping much she doesn't even want to be in the same building as the guy.

(There's also drama that happened with Faye Dunaway who was supposed to replace Glenn Close after she went from Los Angeles to Broadway, except they abruptly closed the show down after Close left, but that's a story for another day)

So with all the bad press, and with ALW forced to pay 1 million dollars for Patti's lawsuit, that led Sunset's productions to close earlier than expected. ALW has stayed around since, with... mitigated output, so to say. The lowest point for a lot of people is Love Never Dies, the sequel to Phantom, which some people love, and that's fine, but it didn't do well with either critics nor fans of the original show, which ALW is EXTREMELY BUTTHURT ABOUT. And like, there are so many stories I could tell about LND alone, but I will share my own crack theory about it, since it does relate to the ask.

Anyway, buckle up.

So. There have been jokes going around for years that the Phantom in LND is basically ALW's self-insert, where he displays to the world that he's totally not over Sarah Brightman leaving him (in part because making Phantom kinda ruined their marriage lmao), despite, you know, having married since. (Aaaaaakward.) So LND basically becomes this really uncomfortable therapy session where a man writes a self-insert musical about how his ex-wife made a big mistake of leaving a sensitive artistic soul such as himself. The characters from Phantom who appear in LND are all more or less unrecognizable as a result, and one who gets it worse (in my humble opinion) is Meg Giry, who was basically Christine's sweet and loyal ballerina friend who basically went into the Phantom's lair on her own to save her friend despite the danger. In LND, she's basically a bitter hag (because ALW hates women, guess Patti was right about that), who really likes the swim and even has a stripping vaudeville number about it, written in universe by the Phantom, no less.

For comparison, here's Don Juan Triumphant (the Phantom's opera in the original):

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And here's Bathing Beauty (the vaudeville number):

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Yeah, so... do you see why people hate LND already?

And that's not the only thing with Meg! She's also pining for the Phantom to pay attention to her and threatens to drown the Phantom and Christine's secret love child when he makes it clear that he's gonna love Christine for EVA AND EVA.

So, with everything we learned today about ALW, would someone like him view someone like Patti LuPone as some sort of crazy, bitter diva who's obsessed with him for whatever reason? Absolutely. Would he be petty enough to insert Patti LuPone into his self-insert musical, which gave us the version of Meg Giry we got in LND? Of course. Why does Meg love to swim so much and why does she drag Gustave out ostensibly for a swim? Is it a dig at Patti's Andrew Lloyd Webber Memorial Pool? Maybe.

I kind of hope we find out one day if that theory is true. And maybe start a kickstarter so Patti can add this painting from the 2004 movie in her collection.

Fun fact: during the process of casting for the 2004 movie adaptation of POTO, ALW allegedly suggested Patti LuPone to play Carlotta... only for Joel Schumacher to have to awkwardly remind him that they were not on speaking terms. The idea was therefore promptly dropped.

#YOU'RE WELCOME ANON #anon asks #Andrew Lloyd Webber #Patti LuPone #evita #sunset boulevard #phantom of the opera #love never dies

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runningfrom2am · 3 months

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requiem // part one

summary: according to coriolanus snow, his best friend had the most beautiful voice in all of panem. she had been training her whole life constantly to get where she was; being up for a residency at the most elite opera house in all of panem. singing was her passion. her true love; and when that got stripped from her in a second, his world became a whole lot quieter. he loathed every minute of it.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.5k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: opera singer!mentor!reader (blink and you'll miss it), she's kind of a prodigy!! p cool imo, mute!reader, bestfriend!coryo, friends to lovers trope ooo, mentions of graphic violence early on (particularly the prologue) but after that it's pretty safe, depictions of ptsd/trauma, mental illness and minor suicidal ideation but at least she's not entirely alone, descriptions of minor medical treatments and use of medication.

a/n: hi again! obligatory note to say sorry i didn't update a couple days ago i meant to but i got hit by a car and then i was working lmao (i'm fine but the ao3 curse did in fact find me)

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

"Mister Snow." Coriolanus's head jerks up at his name from where it was resting against his palm, nearly having fallen asleep by the side of your bed. You were out cold and had been for close to a week now, but part of him hoped he would be there when you eventually stirred.

"We have to ask you to leave now, but you can come back tomorrow after seven," The nurse tells him, a sympathetic smile on her face. This was the sixth night in a row they'd had this exact conversation.

"Of course, thank you," he grumbles as he stands up, rubbing his eyes.

"How is your mentorship going?" she asks, just for the sake of making conversation. "It is very exciting. Congratulations, by the way."

"Thanks..." he hums, hand sliding over his jaw in slight discomfort. He had little to no interest in his tribute. It was clear Lucy Gray had no shot at winning, and he had an even smaller shot at the Plinth Prize thanks to her. Now, he could hardly even stomach looking at her. "The Songbird," as everyone called her.

In reality, his best friend had been forgotten the moment Lucy Gray Baird set foot on that stage in District Twelve and began to sing, and he loathed her for it. The way that all eyes turned to you next to him during the reaping as soon as his tribute's lips parted and began to sing made his stomach turn even now.

Coriolanus's eyes parted from the screen to look over at you, a small teasing smile on his face as he reached out to nudge you with his elbow when instead he was met with an expression of horror on your face. He could see the way your neck tensed as you swallowed hard, and he looks around to see almost everyone else's eyes on you as well for just a moment at a time, stealing glances in your direction.

Your jaw tightens while you grind your teeth together. She was good. But you were better at masking your discomfort with the whole situation, looking down to smooth out your black skirt where it lay across your lap and ignoring all the eyes that had fallen on you.

"It's going well," he lies in response.

"I'm glad to hear that. She's got a real talent, that girl," She smiles, and Coriolanus knows she's not trying to take a jab at the girl lying unconscious a few feet away, but he couldn't see it any other way. "Well, best of luck to her. And you, of course."

"Thanks. Have a good night," Coriolanus replies almost under his breath, taking a final glance at you fast asleep in the cold-looking hospital bed, neck bandaged down to your bruised shoulders before he leaves for the night.

It's sunny out when Coriolanus makes his daily trek to the Capitol Zoo to feed his tribute, and his academy uniform feels heavier on his shoulders than what he's used to.

His tribute smiles as she gets up and brushes off the front of her rainbow dress, making her way over to the bars to greet him. "Good afternoon, Coriolanus. Doin' well today?" she asks as he gets closer, already digging into his bag for the food he brought her.

"Fine," he mumbles in response, holding the folded napkin out to her that contains a cookie he took from the academy lunchroom.

"Thank you," Lucy Gray says as she takes it, unfolding the small cloth from around it and taking a bite. Chewing on it, she looks up at him again, taking note of the bags forming under his blue eyes. "I'm sorry about your friend."

His eyes flick from the cookie she was eating back up to hers, a slight glare behind them as he swallows stiffly. "Yes, well, she's alive," he tells her, looking back down as she breaks the cookie in half and holds it out to him.

"No, thank you," he shakes his head, pushing her hand away with his own.

"You should eat. You look like you need the energy," she says sympathetically.

He sighs because she's probably right. He takes it from her hand carefully, already breaking off a piece. "Thanks."

"No problem."

Lucy Gray knew their little routine by now. It was obvious when he brought her food the first time that he was going hungry. She had seen the signs enough back home to recognize it even here, hidden within what was supposed to be the endless opulence of the Capitol.

"Would you like to talk about it?" she asks as he begins to chew the tiny piece of the cookie, mindful of chewing and swallowing it slowly. He looks up at her again, confusion in his eyes. "Your friend, I mean." she explains.

"No." he answers quickly, shaking his head.

His semi-hostile response only leads Lucy Gray to believe that this girl she had seen get attacked meant something to him. Though, she already knew that when they walked into the zoo arm-in-arm like birds of a feather minutes before the girl was attacked, and her mentor had to be dragged away from her by Peacekeepers when a medical team finally arrived.

"Will you tell me about her?"

"About Y/N?" he asks, eyes softening just a bit.

Lucy Gray nods in confirmation, a small smile on her lips as she urges him on.

"She, uh..." Suddenly he doesn't know where to start with you. Your parents' names are what would traditionally come first in the Capitol, but he knew that would mean nothing to the girl in front of him. That you were his best and only real friend? That you were a singer, too, just like her, but you would likely never sing another note again? "She's a singer in training for the Opera House on Presidential Way. She is... she was very good."

Lucy Gray's eyes light up as he speaks. "She was a singer?"

Coriolanus nods, putting his focus back into eating.

"She must have been amazing," Lucy Gray says, trying to make comforting conversation.

"She is," he corrects her quickly, disguising it as agreement, despite having been the one to refer to your singing abilities in the past tense.

"Of course." She agrees, a sympathetic smile on her face. "I didn't mean..."

"They are making some changes to the Games." He cuts her off, wanting to move on to avoid having to think about the current state of his best friend. It makes his heart sink and the accompanying dread causes that awful burning sensation behind his eyes that makes him want to cry. "So... you need to sing again. Get people to like you. Then I'll be able to send you things in the arena to keep you alive."

Lucy Gray seems hesitant, letting out a huff with the slight shake of her head, looking around before locking her eyes back on him. "I don't sing when I'm told. I sing when I have something to say."

Coriolanus is jarred by her statement, tilting his head a bit and clenching his jaw at the notion and her ferocity behind it. He can't help it when the sudden, stark difference between Lucy Gray and his best friend hits him like a thunderstorm coming in quick on a sunny day.

She sang when she had something to say, you sang because you had to. This fact would keep him up at night for weeks.

The games had come and gone, and there had been no winner this year. Your tribute was shot dead the day she attacked you, and Dr. Gaul saw it as some kind of justice that after your assault, the bombing, and the deaths of your other classmates, the death of all those District kids would keep their home districts from rebelling. From seeing the Capitol as vulnerable, or something like that. You really couldn't care less. At least Felix and the twins were lucky enough to have succumbed to their injuries.

The hospital was cold and dark at almost all hours of the day. You couldn't do a thing besides sit there and wait. For what, you weren't even sure.

"She's not having a good day today," The nurse informs Coryo as he checks in to visit you. He comes by every day, sometimes multiple times a day to see you, and you have your good and bad days. He's well used to that by now.

"Has she eaten?" he asks, and the nurse shakes her head.

"Refused to touch anything we brought her," She sighs, but she's fighting back a smile, which makes him raise an eyebrow at her. Why would she be smiling at that?

"She will be able to go home tomorrow," She smiles, hearing the question he never verbalized. "I thought you might like to tell her."

"Oh... I see," Coryo hums, looking down the hall toward the staircase he would soon take to get to you.

"You don't seem pleased," She states quizzically, her grin fading.

"Why is she going home?" He asks. "She still can't even speak."

The nurse looks down, pursing her lips. "As the doctor mentioned, there's no guarantee that she will ever get her voice back. I'm sorry, truly, but there's nothing more we can do for her here. It's better that she's home with her family recovering somewhere more comfortable."

"Right," He swallows, nodding curtly at her. "Thank you," He replies simply, brushing past the nurse's station to go down to your room.

He can always hear it before he sees it, the echo of opera music cycling through your favorite records time and time again, filling the quiet hall with something pleasant as soon as he opens the door from the stairwell.

"Y/N," You look up from where you're sitting in the corner, tilting your head at him. Coryo smiles as he walks in, and you wish you were in a better mood, to be a better host; as good of one as you could be when you were in the hospital and couldn't speak a single word to him. "How are you feeling?" He asks, already knowing the answer.

You shake your head, a pout forming on your lips. The flowers people had brought you in your first couple of weeks were wilting, and then they stopped bringing them. Your whole life you had been praised for your voice; since you were six years old, the Capitol had seemingly been buzzing with hope for your future. You would be the most beautiful, accomplished singer Panem had ever seen - no one doubted it, but within weeks you had been completely forgotten. Replaced by the image of the girl who had sung at the reaping and once in an interview. Your room was quite a sad reflection of this, and you spent every minute of every day forced to wallow in it.

"Bad day?" Coryo asks anyway, but you just shrug, looking out the window at your sad view of the city that had abandoned you.

"Well, I've got some good news," He says, which draws your attention. You tilt your head at him, gesturing in a circular motion with your hand for him to go on.

He laughs, putting his bag down on your empty and perfectly made bed. "One second, here. In case you have questions." He pulls the small chalkboard out from the drawer next to your bed, holding it out to you with a piece of white chalk. You scrunch up your nose and wave rapidly for him to put it back. He knew it would bug you, that's why he did it, recalling the day he brought it for you and you almost threw it at him.

"I HATE writing with chalk," You scribbled quickly on a napkin with a pen you stole from his pocket, throwing the napkin at him and crossing your arms.

"What? Why?" Coryo laughed, dropping the crumpled piece of soft paper on the table next to your bed.

You shook your head, pursed your lips, and looked up, trying to find a way to explain the awful sensation without saying it. He watched you patiently as you thought, until you pretended to hold a piece of the white substance in between your thumb and forefinger, dragging it down the air slowly and pretending to gag. You shook your head again in disgust, waving your hand at him.

"Oh, I didn't know you felt so passionately about this," He drags the chalk down over the board, and you cringe, covering your ears. Coryo couldn't help but think that was just about the cutest thing he had ever seen.

That had been one of your good days, even though at the time your scar was still so fresh it was bandaged, and you were littered with bruises down to your ribs. The room was littered with fallen flower petals by now, yes, but also with what must be hundreds of notes you had shown to Coryo to express yourself in the only way you still could.

That memory still makes you smile, even if you do absolutely hate chalkboards. You walk past him and grab your notebook off the same table, picking it and the pen up as dramatically as you possibly can before sitting down on the bed and looking up at him.

"What?" He asks, just to tease you, and you roll your eyes.

'Get on with it. Also, you're not funny, and I hate you,' You write, turning the page to face him so he could read it.

"Oh, do you?" He chuckles, sitting down next to you.

You smack his arm with the book, motioning again that he should just spit it out.

"Okay! Okay, fine," He sighs emphatically, placing his hands on his thighs and looking down at the floor, just for a few moments to drive you more up the wall before turning his gaze to you. "They told me that you're going home tomorrow."

You open your mouth to speak, suddenly forgetting that you can't. You quickly shut your jaw, furrowing your brow and shaking your head. 'Why?' You mouth to him, neglecting the pad of paper in your lap.

He reads your lips, frowning at your lack of excitement. He was hoping you would be looking forward to it, but he knew you wouldn't be. Not really. "They said there isn't anything more they can do for you here, that you need to heal at home."

You stand up abruptly, throwing the paper down on the ground and clutching the pen so tight that Coryo fears it might shatter.

What do they mean "nothing they can do"? They could fix you, they could operate again, they could pump you so full of drugs that you could finally forget the hell that you're living in, that's what they could do. You couldn't even say that - or scream out your frustrations.

You turn back to Coryo, and the hurt look on your face crushes him. You want to speak to him so badly. Your lips fall open, and you try anyway. 'They're going to leave me like this?' You ask, but not a sound comes out. Not even so much as a whisper. Your throat burns regardless.

"I'm sorry," he says honestly, standing up and reaching out for you. You shake your head, forcing yourself to look anywhere but at him. "Come here..." he says softly, already wrapping his arms around you as the tears brimming in your eyes begin to fall. You can't even hug him back, hands clutched to your chest as you shake under his hold.

"If I could take this from you, I would," He mumbles, shaking his head and resting his chin on your head as he rubs your back. "I'm sorry, Y/N/N."

What he wouldn't give to be able to hear your voice again.

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coryo snow #coryo x reader #tbosas fanfiction #the hunger games #thg fanfic #thg fic #thg tbosas #thg series #thg fanfiction #coriolanus imagine

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marlynnofmany · 9 months

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Singing and Other Noises

If you have to clean the bathroom on a multi-species spaceship, you can at least take the opportunity to annoy your coworkers with some high volume space shanties. The acoustics of most bathrooms I’ve been in are great, and this one was no exception.

“If you find snacks in high places, adhesive eyes making faces…” I sang, passing the sanitation wand over the floor. “Someone gives thanks to the void, and knives to the droid … Then you might have some humans onboard, onboard, you might have some humans onboard!”

Paint laughed in the hallway. “I don’t think anyone would miss the fact that we have a human onboard.” When I leaned out to grin at her, she continued, “You’re very loud.”

“This is the perfect place to sing!” I said, leaning back and switching to a different song. “You’ll hear us singing loud and proud, in halls and hulls and ventilation chutes. You’ll know us by our range and joy, and we sing better than you!” It echoed nicely.

Paint was shaking her lizardy head. “Are there any quiet human songs?”

“Oh sure,” I said, looking for spots I’d missed. “Calm melodies for a relaxing afternoon, lullabies to soothe babies to sleep, plenty of those. They’re just not as fun. I like the ones where you can really feel your lungs vibrate, you know?”

Paint was giving me that cocked-head look that said she wasn’t entirely sure what I was talking about, but didn’t feel like saying so. “Right. I think that one made the floor vibrate too.”

“Oh, you should meet an opera singer. They can shatter glass.”

“What!” Paint stepped closer, switching her tail. “You are making that up.”

“No, really!” I said. “It’s very impressive. A rare talent for sure.” I got to my feet and emptied the sanitation wand into the trash chute. “My voice is nothing special. Pretty good, I like to think, but no kind of superstar. Still, singing is fun.”

Paint seemed to be having trouble coming up with a compliment. “Your voice is very… clear? Low? Is that a good thing?”

“I like to think so.” I put the wand away and washed my hands. “I can sing the low notes easier than high, which is great, because I enjoy them more. I think that makes me an alto? Contralto? Something like that. Not a soprano, at any rate.”

Even with her orange scales, Paint’s expression was a distinct mask of polite blankness. She nodded, hands clasped together.

“Not much for singing, I take it?” I asked.

Paint exhaled and dropped her hands. “I just don’t see the appeal,” she admitted. “It’s only talking! In a distorted voice!”

I switched off the light and joined her in the hall with a head bob of agreement. “Yeah, I suppose it is. Some of it’s fast and good to dance to, though.”

She pointed at me in excitement. “The dancing does make sense! That’s fun! But I just cannot understand the noises that go with it.”

I shrugged. “Eh, don’t worry too much about it. There’s bound to be lots of things that any given species does that makes no sense to others.”

“Like those shiny rocks you insisted on keeping?”

“Hey, that’s not just me,” I protested. “Zhee and Trrili both wanted some too. And you’ve still got those smelly seed-things that you liked so much.”

Paint raised her snout in pride. “They remain beautiful. Coals, Eggskin, and Captain Sunlight will agree with me!”

“And those are all the Heatseekers on the ship, which is exactly my point.”

A high-pitched noise that I’d been barely aware of grew louder, drifting down the hallway all faint and screechy. I had no idea what it was, and judging by Paint’s expression, neither did she.

“Is that metal scraping?” I wondered.

“I don’t think so,” Paint said.

The sound continued, changing in tone like an alien violin. I turned in place, trying to locate it. “Is that music?”

Paint rubbed her earhole. “It’s unpleasant.”

“C’mon, let’s make sure it’s not actually a problem of some kind.”

“Yes,” Paint said with a sigh. “Ignoring a mechanical failure because we passed it off as horrible music is not something I want on my record.”

I started off down the hallway. “I think it’s this way.”

Ready as I was for a long and mysterious hunt for the quiet shrieking, I was almost disappointed to find it coming from the third door we reached. This was the door to Coals and Trrili’s translation workroom. It was shut. I hesitated over the opening panel, then knocked instead.

The noise stopped.

When the door slid open, it was to a vision of exoskeletoned nightmares, shiny black and red, with pincher arms, mandibles, and a pair of antennae angled into a very irritated expression.

“Hi Trrili,” I said. “Everything okay in there?”

Paint added, “We heard a noise—”

The door shut in our faces. After a moment, the screechy serenade resumed.

I blinked. “Rude.”

Paint had her hands over her earholes. “What is it??”

“Probably not a machine failure,” I said, wincing as the noise approached nails-on-chalkboard levels. “Let’s go ask Zhee.”

We walked very quickly away, and found Zhee outside the kitchen talking to Eggskin. The sound was faint here, but still audible.

“Hey Zhee,” I said cheerfully. “Can you tell us what in the seven spherical black holes Trrili is doing right now?”

Zhee threw his own purple pincher arms in the air. “Butchering a classic,” he exclaimed. “I’ve told her that she’s got the middle part backwards, but she insists it’s a regional variant!”

I glanced at Eggskin, who was just shaking their scaly head. “So it is music, then.”

Zhee folded his pinchers with a flare of antennae. “There’s a skreeking competition at Basal Station,” he said. “She’s under the impression that the judges there will enjoy regional variants that are wrong.”

“I see,” I said, wondering if I should ask the obvious question.

Paint beat me to it. “What’s skreeking?”

“Leg-singing,” Zhee said. “You know.” He moved a hind leg in a way that made a brief screech.

I knew I was staring, but it was either that or burst out laughing, and that was rarely complimentary. You’d think I’d get used to discovering ways that my alien crewmates resembled Earth animals, but you’d be very wrong.

Paint let out a gusty sigh. “I don’t understand that kind of singing either,” she said. “This makes even less sense than the other one!”

“Remember, there’s always dancing,” I told her. “And if it makes you feel better, I have no idea how to dance to the noise Trrili’s making.”

Zhee hissed quietly. “No one could dance to that. Not without tripping over every other limb.”

Eggskin spoke up. “Well, I’m certainly not going to try. Would you three like to help me settle on the primary meal for tonight’s dinner?”

I smiled. “Oh, I’m sure we won’t disagree on anything there.”

~~~

Keen eyes might recognize the shanty lyrics from a couple older posts. I even used one song in The First Time Traveler to Survive, which is a different storyverse entirely, but it's too much fun to leave there. I'm going to say humans invented it twice, and no one's going to stop me!

Anyways, this is the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

#somebody did a lovely recording of one of those songs #but the link isn't working anymore #so I guess I won't share that #more's the pity #my writing #The Token Human #space shanties #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #science fiction #writeblr

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lactoseintolerentswag · 1 year

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Rise Characterizations Pt. 5!!!!!

Okay I promised I'd share my Splinter reference notes, so here I am! Also wanna take a moment to thank everyone reblogging the prev. parts. All the tags/notes are so sweet!!! Anyway, here's our one and only Rat Man,

Splinter Character Notes

Language Habits:

Catchphrase: "HOOOOOT SOUP!!!"

Will yell "whoa/oh nelly!" when in a tight spot or stumbling around

Makes puns/dad jokes, and laughs at said jokes to himself

A poor liar, will skirt around the truth until you drop it

Penchant for interrupting people if he's not interested, devout user of "yada, yada", "ah, bup, bup, bup"

Verbalizes his attacks/moves, something his sons pick up on. Could be a habit picked up from his action star days, such moves include: lights off jitsu, and slow motion jitsu

Uses 2010's slang, (i.e. "totes", "chillaxed"), could see him incorrectly using up to date slang to embarrass his boys

In a group refers to his sons as "boys"

One by one will refer to his sons by their designated colors, but will pull out the full name (not nickname) if the situation is serious

Also refers to Donnie as "the funny one"

Personality:

A performer, well he is an actor after all. He knows how to captivate an audience. Splinter likes attention--something that may be connected to his strict childhood with high expectations--but he also performs for his boys. To keep them happy, but most importantly safe. This also means he keeps his true emotions tucked closely to his chest

Jovial. Despite his dark past and heavy responsibility thrust upon him at a young age, Splinter is always laughing. He finds the fun in everything

Secretive. As mentioned before, Splinter tends to keep things close to his chest. Despite this, he's a terrible liar. He'll just avoid the truth until it comes back to bite him in the ass. This makes him sometimes a little emotionally unavailable

Lazy. He always finds the easiest way to do something, and procrastinate on his responsibilities as long as possible

Vain. He's glory seeking for all the proper attention he lost in his youth. So the Lou Jitsu aspect of his life boosted his ego in irreparable ways. He also uses the identity of Lou Jitsu to escape from the idea of being stuck as a rat. Glorifying the past is way to find comfort for him

Adrenaline junkie. Part of that glory-seeking and glorification of the past manifests into him needing adrenaline to feel alive. (i.e. when he steals the tank)

Attentive and empathetic. He can be a little hare-brained when it comes to remembering the details, but he's always very attentive to his sons needs. In flashbacks he's shown to supply them with items needed for their interests (i.e. little Mikey gets art supplies), and always apologizes when he messes up (i.e. the conversation he had with Donnie). This empathy also extends to other people and animals, as he was sympathetic with Cassandra when she was lamenting about the foot clan and was immediately worried about the turtles Draxum had in his lab

Protective. He would sacrifice everything to save his sons, and he does

Miscellaneous:

His tail is Very expressive, and one of the most active parts of his body, so if you want to subtley show emotion I'd focus on that

Has a Lou Jitsu body pillow

Remembers all his stunt double's names

Snores loudly

Talented singer, can sing opera and lived next to a karaoke bar in Japan

The show he watches the most is called "Soapy Treadmill", a Japanese game show where they throw things like scorpions at people who are soapy on treadmills

Has a "do not touch!" cabinet, full of trophies, mystic artifacts, and mementos of his past

I have a List of all the mentioned Lou Jitsu movie names mentioned in S1, but I'm probably gonna wait till the end of my S2 rewatch and post it separately (it's also long too). Will link here!

I'm also gonna add a recommendation here at the end.

This is for the white and non East Asian folks. I'm not as well-versed in East Asian or Japanese culture, but Splinter is a first generation immigrant! He keeps a distance from his heritage because of the trauma of his youth, and the role Lou Jitsu probably also forced him to westernize his identity to make it more palpable to Hollywood. But it would be a disservice to sever parts of his identity, because one is uncomfortable or not knowledgeable in writing it.

For my white folks intimidated by writing a person of color because they want to get it right, research always helps. Research helps with everything!!! writingwithcolor here on tumblr actually has a lot of useful resources, here's their guideline, and a research chart one of their moderators created, which I personally found to be very helpful. I believe their ask box is closed right now, but if you ask questions in the future be nice!!!!

Anyway I'm gonna do April next :)

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant turtles #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt splinter #rottmnt hamato yoshi #character analysis #writing #fanfic #long post #critter talks #rottmnt lou jitsu

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kadextra · 1 year

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IRONMOUSE INTRODUCTION POST!

Mouse is a Puerto Rican streamer & VTuber (like Jaiden!) who is fluent in Spanish, English, and speaks some Japanese and Korean!

Irl she has an immunodeficiency disorder called CVID which causes her to have pain and be bedridden. Before getting diagnosed she was training with goals of being an opera singer. Due to the isolation of her condition she turned to streaming as a career, and complications from this condition also caused her speaking voice to become higher-pitched. She is a champion for health and encourages donations to immunodeficiency foundations!

Despite her struggles she has very positive, fun-loving mindset. She is sweet, a talented creator, as I said before also a very skilled operatic singer, (her singing voice is very deep) ! and is a member of VTuber agency VShojo. This year she won “Best Vtuber” at the Streamer Awards too :D

She loves to diversify her content as a variety streamer and try doing different things. Her out-of-pocket sense of humor and kindness will mesh perfectly with the other members. She also enjoys making stories for her avatar character (a demon queen) and has been wanting to get into more voice acting lately, so expect her to do some cool lore in the server! :3

Now a clip of her singing :D and another

#qsmp #qsmp ironmouse #and she is not new to mc / modded mc! she loves the game

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lexirosewrites · 22 days

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Phantom of the Opera AU!!!! My very favorite Andrew Lloyd Webber creation!! Especially the 25th anniversary performance at Royal Albert Hall!!!!! There's a free upload on YouTube but the person has their very annoying notification sounds going off every 5 seconds, so I personally bought the video YouTube offers😅

O!Steve is a shy but talented soprano, he's been training with the Loch Nora Opera House since he was all but dumped there by his rich father following his mother's death, his mother often spoke of an Angel of Music in her final days

A!Eddie who is a wealthy Viscount within the Hawkins nobility, he was childhood friends with Steve before Steve fully presented as an omega & he as an alpha, the Harrington family were savvy business owners who had the Munson noble family as one of their investors, he learned violin from Steve's mother

A!Henry/Vecna/One who is the possessive & obsessive Phantom who took particular interest in Steve a year after he came to the Opera House & trained him as a singer while grooming him using the delusion tht he's the Angel of Music his dead mother spoke about

Idea for an excerpt:

An auction takes place quietly within the theater of a dilapidated opera house. A music box in the shape of a pipe organ with a figurine of a demonic faceless dog is auctioned off as Lot 665 to an old man resting in a wheelchair, attended to by a man servant.

The servant retrieves the music box at the old mans request. The man holds the music box carefully, examining it. Then he speaks, as if to himself.

"A collectors piece indeed, every detail exactly as he said. He often spoke of you, my friend. Your velvet lining, and your figurine of lead. Will you still play when the rest of us are dead?"

END EXCERPT IDEA

Blah blah blah the reader travels back in time to many decades ago when the opera house was dazzling & noisy with rehearsals & full of life

Scott Clarke the owner of the Opera leads an interested Owens & Hopper through the audience up to the stage where the cast of the current production were rehearsing, Clarke reveals he's sold the opera to the two gentlemen & promptly leaves upon a suspicious noise followed by a back drop falling.

Something something something

Steve replaces the prima soprano as she refuses to work under the tyranny of the phantom. He gives an astounding standing ovation of a performance tht Eddie happened to b watching.

He reunites w Eddie upon retiring to his dressing room, they share a tender moment, & Eddie invites Steve to come w him & his companions to dinner. Steve tries to object but is persuaded & Eddie leaves exuberant. Then the Phantom speaks, disapproving of this bold suitor & his advances upon his student. Steve apologizes & begs the Phantom to forgive his moment of weakness where he forgot abt his duty as a singer for the Angel of Music. Henry/Vecna/One brings Steve to his domain beneath the opera house & indeed beneath the capital of Hawkins entirely. While Eddie rushes to open the door at the sound of an unfamiliar voice in Steve's room, but it is too late.

Steve is gone w his Angel.

Steve awakes in the Phantoms lair & somehow sees the face beneath the mask, horrified he tries to run, but Henry/Vecna/One catches him & extolls abt his ugliness while deluding himself with talk of Steve growing to love him. Then abruptly he brings Steve back to the theater.

Something or other

Steve reunites w Eddie & begs to never return to the Opera while also fearing for the safety of those still in the opera. The two affirm their love for the other, and Eddie promises to keep Steve safe. Of course the Phantom hears all of this, and begins plotting.

Some time later...

A masquerade is being thrown in the opera house with every cast member & benefactor in attendance. Steve is nervous & Eddie reassures him. Then suddenly the Phantom is there! Interrupting the masquerade! He demands his opera be put on, tht Steve play the prima soprano, & tht his box be left empty. He's already killed the worker in charge of the ropes as proof of his ire.

Steve goes to the graveyard where his mother is buried. He sings a song his mother taught him, and then there is the Phantom! Ready to grab Steve & steal him back to his lair! Eddie charges onto the scene just missing the chance to apprehend the offending Phantom & contents himself w comforting his soon to be wife.

The rest of the plot happens, & while in the end Steve & Eddie r safe, able to leave, & more in love than before...

the Phantom of the Opera seems to have disappeared into the night with no evidence of his death or survival

oooh Phantom is one of my favorite musicals! I lowkey thought Eddie was gonna be the phantom at first, but a happy ending is nice too I guess😂

#slick sunday #steddie #steddie omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #steve x eddie #a/b/o #omegaverse #my asks

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stars-and-the-min · 5 months

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☆ the wrong way to hard launch (7) | OP81

summary : oscar's girlfriend is a walking pr problem for literally everyone (including herself) social media au

pairing : oscar piastri x zhou!fem!singer!oc

a/n switch out one shitty ex for a slightly less shitty one

masterlist | last part | part 7 | next part

ARTICLE

Revisiting 'Twelve More Days' : How Empty Bottles Spun Their Signature Sound on its Head on Tour April 12, 2024 · Written by Catherine Moore

Almost halfway through the Asian leg of their world tour, it's finally time to talk about what the pandemic-era rock band Empty Bottles has been up to. For greener artists, it's the cookie-cutter way to stick to a genre that has previously worked and give the masses what they want but instead, Empty Bottles have taken their 2022 sophomore sensation 'Twelve More Days' and tweaked the songs for their world tour.

Long-time fans of the Sydney-born band are familiar with the classic rock elements that brought Empty Bottles into the spotlight; claiming influence from fellow Sydneysiders 5 Seconds of Summer, Arctic Monkeys and other croony rock artists, so it was a rather big surprise for critics and fans alike when the album opened with a much softer, hypnotising approach.

The even bigger surprise was the creative and musical approach they took with their tour. As noted by various critics back during the album release, 'Twelve More Days' had a not-so-subtle jazz flavour to their sound, and the band seems to have embraced the jazz-rock sound by opening their tour with a speakeasy-style set, complete with the band decked out in snazzy 1930s reminiscent suits and frontwoman Selina Bui in glittery minidresses, opera gloves and a thematic vintage ribbon microphone.

Despite close to three years since she last performed in front of a live audience, Bui took to the stage like a fish to water, instantly entrancing her audience with her universally acknowledged rich sirenic vocals, drawing in the attention and sending the venue back to a 1930s speakeasy. Strangely, she performs this part of the show without her trusty guitar, leaving the grunt work on the other lead guitarist, talented Lukas Zhang, who delivers without a hiccup with no twin guitar to help cover any mistakes.

Quite a few of the sophomore album's songs are given a jazz-rock twist that nobody could have predicted. Other already jazz-influenced songs - namely deluxe track number 13 'money talks' and track 6 'typo' - have been breathed to life, as well as a couple of songs from the band's debut album 'overtime'.

Empty Bottles then returns after a brief intermission with their award-winning pop-rock sound, spending the rest of the set in much more familiar-looking leather jackets and t-shirts and a guitar returned to Bui's hand. Bui, very well known for having an interesting sense of humour, made the choice of returning to the stage with the fitting song choice of 'do you remember me?'. One thing you have to give the 22-year-old is that she really does know how to pick her moments, and the now-iconic first chords of the cocky, energetic track are enough to send the crowd screaming.

The exploration into the many subgenres of what is considered rock 'n' roll has always been a very fuzzy point of conversation, and it's been an honour seeing Empty Bottles have fun playing jump rope over that line. What makes this tour such a raving success is their perfect balance of experimentation and keeping to what is tried and true for them; the classic, hard-hitting, no-nonsense, inane-lyricism rock coupled magnetically with Bui's captivating execution on stage.

Would you find me at one of their shows again? Absolutely, there was truly nothing more thrilling than the first moments you see Selina Bui walk onto stage with her infamous cheshire cat smile. What did I personally think about the sound change? I was pleasantly surprised at how seamlessly they've adjusted the songs to fit the jazz-rock genre, I also believe that they have found the perfect sound to complement Selina Bui's voice. It's uncanny how it just clicked that she was born to sing the soft, almost lullaby-like, calming songs. If they were to release another album with a similar soft sound, I would happily eat it up.

Empty Bottles wrap up the Asian leg of the tour in Bangkok, Thailand later this month and then shortly begin the European leg in Sofia, Bulgaria.

INSTAGRAM

cameliazzz

liked by aidan_ebass and 122,394 others

cameliazzz life lately 🐾 tagged: selinabui

aidan_ebass Yes ma'am 🫡 ↳ selinabui @aidan_ebass i'm dying u are such an old man ↳ lukaszhang @ selinabui he's like barely a year older than you??

cami.png the hottest drummer ever 💜💜💜

conangray a little commotion for the drummer pls and thank you ↳ cameliazzz @ conangray stop i'm blushing 🙈

TWITTER

fiona🩷 @fififorlina · 4h i mean we can all thank tommy for one thing and that's for twelve more days lmao ↳ lina bui x2 grammy winner @urdaisea · 3h i forget that not all empty bottles fans have read this article but i think they all should: Why 'Twelve More Days' isn't a Break-Up Album, it's a Healing One

emme @flowersforcami · 1h yes twelve more days is full of t*mmy slander BUT remember that all the band members have writing credits and they ALL helped write songs so basically what i'm trying to say is that twelve more days is actually the rest of the band roasting the shit out of lina's ex ↳ emme @flowersforcami · 1h every one of those bitches rocked up to the studio and went for blood. that is a universally hated man in their group chat.

amie <3 @mieflrs · 2h it's been 3 years, i think it's time to admit that keeping tabs is absolutely not about thomas fucking howard ↳ amie <3 @mieflrs · 2h i don't care how delusional u are, where in those 3 minutes 54 seconds did you hear a single line that sounds like anything like that sorry excuse of a man??? now a certain japanese-american singer who is exceptionally hot playing the guitar on the other hand... ↳ lukas 🔛🔝 @lukiepookie28 · 2h yes i agree it's not about t*mmy but it's also not about CHRISTOPHER like WTF R U ON???

oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 32m we're in an oscalina drought and it's plain to see not all of us are coping well

MESSAGES

from the phone of selina bui

INSTAGRAM

selinabui

liked by chrisyamada, oscarpiastri and 279,384 others

selinabui now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh is it that sweet? i guess so

amelia_belrose pop!lina perhaps 🫣

oscarpiastri Didn't need to call me out like that ↳ selinabui @ oscarpiastri don't tell me u miss me already

sabrinacarpenter she's working late coz she's a singer

lukaszhang woman you hate coffee what are you on ↳ selinabui @lukaszhang why are u even here

MESSAGES

from the phone of selina bui

TWITTER

Yamada Updates @chrisyamadanews · 2h 🚨| Chris spotted at the Empty Bottles 'Twelve More Days' Tour in Seoul Night 2

Yamada Updates @chrisyamadanews · 32m 🚨| CHRIS ONSTAGE WITH EMPTY BOTTLES!!!

↳ Yamada Updates @chrisyamadanews · 30m this made me break ok, i am so fucking thrown off. WDYM WE GOT SELINA BUI AND CHRISTOPHER YAMADA ON STAGE TOGETHER IN THE YEAR 2024???

mabel @ maplemabel32 · 25m i can't breathe chris and lina??? chris and lina???????? after so long??? CHRISTOPHER AND SELINA???? as in "hello it's chris" "and lina"??? MY BESTIES REUNITED???

june @linafesting · 18m sometimes, i'm convinced lina spins a wheel on how to break the internet today

↳ kat ୨୧ @yamayaps · 2m with all due respect, this stunt was NAUT selina's idea, this was a move that christopher 'no boundaries' yamada suggested

INSTAGRAM

emptybottles_official Olympic Gymnastics Arena

liked by chrisyamada and 334,294 others

emptybottles_official Nowhere as incredible as Seoul! Always special to have @chrisyamada join us on stage. tagged: chrisyamada

chrisyamada someone better return the favor later 👀 ↳ selinabui @chrisyamada u begged me to let u come what are u on ↳ chrisyamada @ selinabui ok maybe i did

pi4str1 ok someone catch me up bc i did not know chris and lina were friends??? ↳ linasgirl4 @pi4str1 it's probably best we don't get into it

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

taglist @ririyulife @ashy-kit @fionaschicken @namgification @cherry-piee

#f1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x oc #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri smau #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 smau #f1 fic #f1 smau #f1 imagine #f1 social media au

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spaceagebachelormann · 6 months

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Alright, I'm hooked. Jekyll and Hyde (and maybe Adam Frankenstein?) with a partner who likes to sing? Disney princess singing, or any kinda singing they'd like. She'd sing to them if they asked, and she often sings whenever she isn't doing anything else or when she's doing something that doesn't require her to be thinking about what she's doing. I think she'd offer to sing lullabies if they wanted.

✧.* 𝐉𝐄𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐋, 𝐇𝐘𝐃𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐌 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐒/𝐎 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

╰┈➤ MASTERLIST. NAVIGATION.

╰┈➤ CARMILLAS NOTES: i’m so happy about this actually. frankenstein and jekyll and hyde are two of my biggest hyperfixations atm 🫶 also it was kinda hard to make this fem reader

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: none!

𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 𝐉𝐄𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐋

he could listen to you sing forever

it’s actually his most favourite thing in the world

while hyde likes just normal music with no singing, like compositions and all that, jekyll actually prefers singing

helps him remember someone else, his favourite girl, is actually there <3

he’ll probably ask you sing at the most random parts of the day, he doesn’t really care what it is as long as you’re singing

i think he’d like to do his work and just let you do yours in the same room, but he will request you to sing, if not sing than atleast hum

at some point anybody singing in general just starts to remind him of you

i feel like for some reason he knows how to play piano so if you really wanted he’d play piano while you sang and it’s like a little duet

yes he’d ask you to sing him to sleep

either laying on the actual pillow or his head in your lap, he barely sleeps but your singing helps him so much

within ten minutes he’s knocked out

nobody loves girls who sing more than henry jekyll

𝐄𝐃𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐇𝐘𝐃𝐄

he does think you have a nice voice, but he doesn’t care for it as much as jekyll

he’ll let you sing to him, but he might not pay as much attention

but i do think there’s certain days where he’s just too tired to actually get up and wreak havoc so he just has you sit in front of him, and he just plays with your hair while you sing/hum

i feel like he might just subconsciously call you songbird every once in a while but idk (it’s 1am leave me alone my brain is cooked)

if you’re lucky he might let you show him different exercises for fun or see what the highest and lowest pitches you can go see but he’d probably have to be in a very good mood

although usually he won’t ask you to sing to him and kind of just gets used to you normally doing it, there have been days where he’s actually requested that you sing for him

at some point after months of this he just gives you a look that lets you know he wants you to sing

“sing for me?” to “sing?” to just a certain glance that you’d know a mile away

𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐌 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍

he adores you

i think he might’ve been a little shocked the first time you sing in front of him, since there’s a big chance he’d never heard it before

will stop you and just be like “what was that??” and let you explain it to him

from that day on he gets very interested in music and wants you to tell him everything you know about and will want you to sing to him quite a few times a day

he’s very interested in your vocal range (vocal range is fascinating istg)

would love lullabies to be song to him

sometimes, after you guys get a house or somewhere you can actually live in peace, he likes to just lay in bed with you and have you sing

he learns his favourite type of singing is like. kind of opera but also not quite (like christine in phantom of the opera kind of)

he’s so proud of your talent and tells you all the time you should get a job with your voice

he also says nobody in their right mind would refuse your voice

he gets interested in lots of singers after that, but you’re always his favourite

#mars writing 🧈#jekyll and hyde (marlees version 🧪)#frankenstein (marlees version 🫀)#the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde #dr jekyll and mr hyde #jekyll and hyde #henry jekyll #edward hyde #henry jekyll x reader #edward hyde x reader #jekyll and hyde x reader #frankenstein #adam frankenstein #adam frankenstein x reader

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anmaje · 7 months

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S&Co Sherlock recommended Vivaldi to John and I Lost My Mind

The fact that our Sherlock Holmes recommended Vivaldi to John so suddenly and apruptly is something SO personal! When I read a transcript of the mailbag episode (thank you @eardefenders ) I could NOT stop thinking about it, and have been listening to his many wonderful concertos since. I work in a church choir and am therefore somewhat classically trained, I have also played violin for many years as a child, and still do at times, so allow me to go on a geeky tirade about Antonio Vivaldi and Sherlock's understanding of John.

🎻🌱🌻🍂❄

In the second mailbag episode, a question is asked "If you could make a Spotify playlist for eachother of your own favourite songs, what would some of the highlights be [...] ?"

John answers with the rockband Elbow, who use orchestra and especially strings in their music. Which is why he recommends it to armature violinist Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock says that he would probably never make such a playlist, as he wouldn't find the task fulfilling, but he has an epiphany and IMMEDIATELY interrupts himself, not even finishing his sentence, and he simply says "Vivaldi". I have not heard the delivery of this line(cause I'm poor ✌), but the fact that the answer falls to him so suddenly and it simply MUST leave him immediately so John hears is delicious characterisation. Sherlock also answers with pop, as John likes popculture (a somewhat less personal answer, but still very considerate).

After another question it is established that Vivaldi isn't even a favourite of Sherlock's. He much prefers Mozart, Bach(I will come back to Bach) and Tchaikovsky. Now Sherlock is a violinist, so there is no way he has escaped the genius of Antonio Vivaldi, like he's escaped pop. And so this recommendation is really because he feels John would like it.

But why does Sherlock think that? What would John Watson, a middle class everyman, like about Vivaldi?

Let me tell you:

When we analyse the symbolic meaning of instrumental classical(in this case baroque) music, we often look at the biography of the composer (Vivaldi gives us a little more to work with, which I will return to). I will start here. Antonio Vivaldi of Venice was taught the violin by his father and was ordained at 25 but didn't work as a priest for long due to illness. He instead became a violin teacher and composer. (Who else do we know that took up a very respected line of work but ended up where his father did? Why John Watson of course!) Vivaldi taught abandoned girls at an orphanage for more than 30 years, and saw immense potential in them and their education. The most talented of the girls stayed into adulthood as a part of their renowned orchestra and choir. He wrote most of his music for these girls and women to perform. He also took the talented singer Anna Tessiseri Giro and her sister under his wing, and Anna became his protégé. What a great guy! Supporting the talents of young women! Of course John would love him.

Going into Vivaldi's musical genius, we have to talk about baroque music. Vivaldi left a huge mark on the late baroque period. Especially the form of concertos which I won't bore you with (🤓), but also the general style of the period. That style is characterised by grand ornamentation (like the baroque in general), driving movement (in rythm) and contrast such as ascending and descending notes. All this produces beautiful an grand pieces. Additionally, Vivaldi used melodic repetition(his critics say too much), which is what gets the new hit pop song stuck in our heads. Something our John is very prone to suffer under. Vivaldi also took a narrative approach to music. Not only through his many operas, but also in his concertos. Everyone knows his Four Seasons, whether you want to or not. He wrote four concertos, one for each season, and for each season there was an accompanying sonnet(which he presumably wrote). These concertos and sonnets depict both the gentleness and wrath of nature, all beautiful. But also people: herders, shepherds, drunk peasants celebrating the harvest and hunters. These are working people that Vivaldi chose to portray. John has a working class background, despite his social climb, he still shares most empathy with these people. Of course he would enjoy a celebration of their troubles and joys throughout the year.

Now back to Bach. A baroque man that Sherlock enjoys. The baroque ends with Bach, that is atleast what I've been taught. All of the period leads up to him. His complicated polyphonic(2 or more lines of melody at once) pieces are iconic and definitive of the period. And who inspired J. S. Bach? Well Vivaldi of course! Bach adapted several of Vivaldi's works and quoted him directly in his own compositions. Bach used bigger orchestras and different instruments (organ and harpsichord as he played them himself) and his works are generally more complicated than Vivaldi's Italian one-melody-centric works, but Bach is the metaphorical student! And Sherlock must absolutely be aware of this.

To me reading the mailbag episode, Sherlock started out uninterested, but the question had him think through his favourites. All complicated and very much not to John's tastes. But when thinking of Bach he went back to Vivaldi, which you must, and he is different. Vivaldi the sick priest, Vivaldi the teacher, the life long supporter of young womens' and abandoned girls' careers. Creative Vivaldi, Vivaldi the storyteller, which John is also. Vivaldi who celebrates nature and the dramatic lives of incredibly normal working people. Vivaldi and his repetitive melodies, although not in Sherlock's taste, fits John's so well. Vivaldi who inspired Bach. John who inspires Sherlock. ❤🎻

Tirade over! Thank you for reading. If you want to listen to some of Vivaldi's work I recommend The Four Seasons and a spot near a window with a suitable drink for the weather in your part of the world. For Bach you might want to look up whether your local church/music school holds concerts or similar events where Bach features, organ is a thousand times better live (if not, stick to his piano or string work).

#sherlock & co #sherlock holmes #dr john watson #My mind is only slightly elated #the brainrot continues #sherlock and co

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tmbgareok · 6 months

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Did you and John L. ever receive any formal vocal training or are you mostly self-taught singers?

JF: I went to formal singing coaches for a moment in the 90s and while they were impossibly square in their approach (essentially an opera couple teaching mostly Broadway singers how to belt) I got a little bit of good info (and got next to wait in a room with some extremely talented opera singers/waitresses with a level of dedication to their craft that was quite righteous) In more recent years I got some coaching from a friend which was great while I was in NYC. I have also worked with YouTube vocal warm-ups which are very useful just preparing to do a long show as well as being able to drill things that I have had specific issues with (singing smaller intervals more accurately, avoiding skating on bigger leaps, odd interval training like tritones, etc.) I wish I had started years ago.

I don't think John has ever done anything formally, and I am not sure he believes in warming up--which is easy to be around! (I hate being the "la so fa ti do" guy backstage--so I hide!)

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shadowsingercassia · 17 days

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Masked Christine of the Opera | She was Cauldron-cursed

Azrielxreader

Summary: Rhysand was taking the IC to the Day Court for a meeting he had with Helion. But Helion had also gotten them tickets to an opera show 'Phantom of the Opera' which was performed by a very talented opera singer. And Azriel found himself obsessed with her before he even met her.

Words: 6.2k (got carried away!)

Warnings: sexual tension, suggestiveness, and that's it (oh, and angst) (the amount of angst I write is concerning)

This is my attempt at a third-person point of view! Please give me any feedback!

Pre-acotar timeline! (like at least two centuries before)

FINALLY I edited thiss!!

Azriel was in his own dungeons, walking through the familiar stone corridors. His gaze scanned the cells, most of them empty, except from a few. The people being held inside shrank under his presence, as they were chained and marred with cuts and bruises he gave them. A few of the braver ones dared to glare at him. Azriel didn't particularly care. He wasn't in the mood for violence at the time as his mind swirled with the news Rhysand delivered to him.

They were going to the Day Court, all of the Inner Circle, to one of the Solar Courts. Rhysand said that Helion had wanted to have a meeting with Rhysand to talk about ways to strengthen alliances and a few other things Azriel didnt remember. He hadn't paid attention to Rhysand as he had talked about the political part. His thoughts were just spinning about another thing that Rhysand had mentioned. He was going to take the IC to watch an opera.

Helion had told him that there was a talented opera singer making her debut in the Day Court that has had months full of sold-out shows, performing many classic Day Court operas but her most famous one, was the 'Phantom of the Opera.' Azriel had heard the story of it before, but only briefly, nonetheless, he wondered how the female had managed to have each one of her shows sold-out, for months straight. She must be very talented, then, Azriel supposed.

Earlier today, Rhysand had requested Azriel to pack a bag as they would be staying for a two days, and thankfully, Helion had been kind enough to offer them to stay in his palace for the duration of their stay. His pack contained a couple of leathers, Truth-Teller, and that made the most of it. But he had also packed something else, a white button-up and black trousers as well as a black overcoat. Azriel wasn't sure why he had bothered to pick out an elegant change of clothing, but he found himself not caring as he had shoved the clothes into the pack, hoping no one would comment on it once they would see it.

His boots made soft clinking sounds as they made contact with the cobblestone of the dungeons, thoughts drifting off to how she would look like. Would she be pretty? Or did she just have a beautiful voice? Already, he was practically obsessed. Shadows swirled around him as the anticipation in his mind grew, and he was half-tempted to winnow into the Day Court right then and there to see her.

His feet carried him up the spiral staircase and led him back to his room, where he filled the bathtub with warm water. Stripping from his bloody and sweaty leathers, he sunk into the tub, water enveloping his body. Azriel moaned at the feeling of the warmth seeping into his body.

Scrubbing his hair and body clean, he waited until the water had went from hot to cold before getting out. Grabbing a towel, he dried himself off before walking over to his bed, stretching his wings before settling back beneath the sheets.

Today had been hard. He had managed to capture a couple of Autumn Court spies lurking in Velaris and torture information out of them, for hours, until Azriel knew that it was late, perhaps around midnight, he had guessed.

But that night, despite his exhaustion, he tossed and turned but didn't sleep. He couldn't. Even if his eyelids fluttered shut, his mind wandered off to her, again, depriving him of his much nedded sleep. Not wanting to admit it, he blamed it on everything else, pillows being too uncomfortable, sheets too itchy, mattress too hard. She was driving him insane.

Dawn came, not nearly as soon as Azriel wanted. But Azriel found himself wanting a lot of things, and on top of that list was her. He wanted, no, needed, to see her. To listen to her angelic voice, as people described it. As the golden rays of sunlight seeped through the window, bathing the room in daylight, the shadowsinger sat at the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees. He lowered his head to his palms, breathing deeply.

Biting back a yawn, he stood, shadows immediately on his side as he walked towards the wooden armoire at the other end of his bedroom to dress up. He had dressed quickly, too rapidly, considering he usually took two or three minutes. Today, he wasn't sure if he had slept in his clothes or not.

Winnowing to the Town House, he stood, tapping his foot on the ground. Impatiently, he waited for Rhysand and the rest of the IC. Even his shadows were swirling around him in a way that showed clear signs of impatience. As if they wanted time to pass quicker. So they could also see her. Azriel really needed to get a hand on himself.

"Up early, Shadowsinger?" Morrigan asked from a few feet behind him, having just winnowed here herself. She wore one of her various red dresses, this time a shade darker than what she was used to wearing. The silky fabric hugged her body and sparkled in the daylight. Thin straps supported the bodice, which clung to her torso, showing just the right amount of cleavage.

Azriel had always loved Morrigan, always pining over her. Lingering glances, accidental brushing of their hands that he should've forgotten about long ago, and yet he still couldn't. Watching from afar as she had been with other men. But it was after she had slept with Cassian, that he and Cassian hadn't been on proper speaking terms. Rhysand had taken Azriel's side but yet, Azriel still distanced himself from both of his brothers, and their friendship had gone to ruins because of Morrigan.

He never blamed her, though. Morrigan just somehow happened to be in the middle of it, but he could never blame her. Not for something she didn't even intend to happen. So he had tried, to get over it, get over Morrigan.

Slowly, the IC had gathered, and then they all winnowed to the front of the Day Court palace.

As they passed under the entrance archway, the royal gardens came into view, filled with various different flowers, all of them in vibrant and different colors. A towering fountain made out of white stone sat in the middle, and through a statue made out of gold resembling an angel, water poured out, from a small hole on its mouth.

Azriel surveyed the towering wings of the angel, looking like wings out of golden feathers. The sculpture was overly detailed, and truly, it was a piece of art.

Making their way through the soft blades of grass, the white marble architecture - Helion's palace - came closer and closer. Towers, walls, keeps, all out of white marble and gold accents of a material that was quite strange. Azriel could tell it wasn't metal but it also wasn't stone or marble.

Entering the place, Azriel stared at the intricate chandeliers, adorned with crystals, gazed at the tall ceilings. Paintings hung on the brightly colored walls, scenes of Prythian mythology, as well as unique places with green rolling hills and flowers all over the place. Helion sure did have a thing for interior design.

In the throne room, all the IC inclined their heads down in a bow, even Rhysand, and Helion returned the gesture before standing up from his throne and approaching them.

Clad in white silk that covered a part of his chest, then fell down to conceal most of his legs, excluding the slits up his muscular thighs. Low around his hips hung a belt made out of gold, on either side of his hips a sun cresent sat.

His dark skin was a contrast to the silk, dark hair cascading in waves down his back. Helion always looked like a man straight out of mythology, and incredibly charming.

"Rhysand, it's such a pleasure to see you here in the Day Court's palace," he extended his hand to Rhysand, which he took in a tight grip, shaking it once. Then something broke the moment.

From the door emerged a figure, wearing a metal corset, two gold circles resembling two suns covered her breasts, a thin line connecting the two and then curving down to meet a thick line of metal around her waist. Another two lines hanging off-shoulder made up the sleeves and golden chains dangled down to her wrists.

Satin skirts reached her knees, matching the color of the complicated corset that was so damn addicting to look at.

Her hair was braided into a unique pattern. Three main french braids going from the start of her scalp moving to the back of her head where they end, wrapping around in a bun, pinned in place by a pin. The rays of the sun pin poked over her head, making it seem almost like a crown.

Azriel's jaw would have dropped at the incredible beauty that was her. A vision, a goddess, that was what she was, but even these words were an understatement to describe her. She's more beautiful than the Mother herself.

Immediately two tendrils of dark shadows wrapped around each one of her ankles and her own power, her light tendrils eagerly greeted his darkness. Smiling down at their mixed powers, how the two opposites seemed to bond together, Azriel was struck dumb as her smile widened. She was going to be the death of him.

"Ah, everyone, meet my daughter, Y/n. She's my heir, future High Lady of the Day Court, and she's an opera singer, more specifically the opera singer i told you all about," Helion said, gesturing towards her. She inclined her head to her father, in an act of respect for him.

The opera singer. This was her, Helion's daughter, the talented soprano.

Azriel was utterly obsessed.

He couldn't even think straight. She was divine. The color of her skin, her hair, her eyes, gods, her eyes. Azriel could see the faint glimmer in them and the bright aura that surrounded her. Her powers, light, sun, she was Light, she was the Sun. A brief smile graced her lips. Oh, how he wanted to taste those lips. As she bowed down to Rhysand, Azriel found himself drawn to her every movement.

"High Lady? I didn't know that was a thing," Rhysand said, but his tone wasn't offensive I nthe least. Likewise, his tone held a hint of curiosity as his eyebrows furrowed. That powerful female, a future High Lady, a title no other woman has ever had or that Prythian has ever heard.

Everyone would - and should - be falling to their knees immediately in front of her.

"I believed, since she's my only child and I'm not exactly wanting another, she be a High Lady. The title may not exist yet, but it will, and Y/n will be the first one to ever have that title." Rhysand nodded to Helion's words, eyebrows raising, showing a brief flicker of respect.

And there was one thing that had caught Azriel's attention. A mask. A metal mask concealed her nose and half of her cheekbones, the ends curving and twisting, expanding into thin lines resembling rays of sun.

Azriel wondered why she wore it, if it was permanent, or if it was just an accessory. He couldn't tell, and she most likely wasn't going to tell him. Once again, he found himself stunned, and he wasn't the only one, Cassian was gaping and ogling, Morrigan's jaw hanging open. Even Amren's eyebrows had risen as she couldn't bring herself to avert her eyes from her.

Azriel was the first to fall on his knees, lowering his head into a bow, Cassian following swift, Morrigan getting on one knee. Rhysand bowed lower than he usually does, and even Amren bowed waist deep.

Wide-eyed, Y/n stared as the IC kneeled and bowed in front of her.

Even Helion didn't speak as slowly, each member of the IC slowly stood up, Azriel being the last to stand. Azriel thought she should have everyone kneeling at her feet, that she deserved it, but Azriel thought she deserved the whole world. And he'd give her the world in a heartbeat, if it meant seeing her smile.

During the meeting, she sat by her father's side, and Azriel couldn't even pay attention to what was being discussed, his focus was solely on her and that damn corset, his thoughts going as far as wondering how this thing could be taken off. Gods, she wasn't sure he'd be able to contain himself.

His gaze was locked onto her lips as she said something. Full, kissable lips, painted a redish pink. Damn it, he had to stop that.

Talons scraped against his mental shields. I get it Azriel, she's pretty, but stop ogling, Rhysand's mental voice rang in his mind. Don't forget you bowed to her, he retorted. You got on your knees, Azriel resisted rolling his eyes as he heard Rhysand's voice again.

Azriel tried, he truly tried to keep his gaze from traveling south or locking into her eyes. Yet he couldn't, it was so damn hard not to.

She was Light, the future High Lady of the Day Court, heir of Light, princess of the Day Court, the Sun heir. A sun and light goddess. A female who deserved to be worshiped, and he'd worship her with every chance he got if she'd let him.

After the seemingly endless meeting, Azriel stood at his room in the palace. A four-poster bed sat in the middle of the room, clean white sheets arranged on top of it, a pile of pillows from the finest Day Court silk set against the headboard. The curtains blew in the chill night breeze. Helion had really made sure everything was in place.

Watching himself in the mirror, he slipped in the button-up, struggling slightly with the buttons due to his scarred hands.

The door to his room opened with a soft click, and he saw her entering. "Oh, I'm so sorry. It seems like I entered the wrong chamber," she spoke to him, shooting him an apologetic smile. Her gaze drifted to the scars on his hands and the way his fingers fumbled on the buttons. Nodding, Azriel met her gaze as if to say that it's alright.

"You seem to be struggling, may I... help?" Her question was so innocent, and yet it brought Azriel so many conflicting emotions. "It's fine," he answered.

But she only moved closer, and as she stepped through the doorway, he saw her dress. Cobalt blue fabric flowed down her body. The thick fabric hugged her breasts, the sweetheart neckline of the dress teasing his restraint. Off shoulder sleeves clung to her biceps. Heavy gold jewelry decorated her neck and ears, chain weaving through the blue stones, matching the color of her dress.

As she came closer and the dim faelight of the room illuminated her, he saw the intricate hairstyle she wore. The front part of her hair was puffed up, and the rest hung down in curls down her back. A few pins held various of the curls up, the tiny crystals on them gleaming in the light.

Her lips were painted a dark red, and kohl lined her eyes but... that mask again.

Fighting the curiosity, he finally gave in.

"Why do you wear that mask?"

"How did you get these scars?"

A giggle bubbled out of her as they both spoke at the same time. His hand shot to the back of his neck as he rubbed it, a chuckle leaving his own lips.

Azriel was convinced she was divine in every sense and way. Her fingers brushed against his exposed chest as she buttoned his shirt up skillfully. Her gaze drifted over his Illyrian tattoos, peeking through the fabric of his button-up. His muscles stiffened under her touch, as her gaze was practically stripping him bare. "There you go," she whispered.

"You still haven't answered my question," he stated, and she chuckled, shaking her head slightly before meeting his gaze once again. "Neither have you, Azriel," the way she said his name was enough to send his head spinning. It rolled off her tongue so perfectly. He swore he could have fallen to his knees right now. Averting his gaze, he tried to look at anywhere but her.

Their gazes locked together, again, and for a moment, he noticed her eyes darkened a fraction as she gazed at his now practically black eyes as his pupils took up all the hazel. Gone were the golden pools of hazel that she would gladly lose herself in. But she loved his darkened gaze, the way it showed her how much he wanted her.

Desire coiled deep into his stomach as his gaze grew more lustful as the moments passed. Her own core throbbed as arousal pooled between her legs. Mentally, she scolded herself for not wearing any undergarments, but she knew it was for the best, since the undergarment's outline would show through the fabric.

His eyes flickered between her eyes and her lips that had now parted, and he caught a whiff of the scent of her sweet arousal. "Gods, you're testing my restraint," he admitted, and then his cheeks tinged with pink from the embarrassment at what he had confessed. The corner of her lips tugged up into a smirk as she saw the blush spreading through his cheeks.

"I'd love to break that restraint," she answered, and Azriel's eyes widened ever so slightly. Her smirk widened, a hint of mischief in her eyes. Charmer, just like her father.

"Believe me, sometimes I am thinking about letting you break that restraint, break me," at that, her breath hitched. Not only because of his rough tone, laced with desire so deep that she would have dropped to her knees right then and there. But the meaning of it, the confession of what he wanted her to do to him. Break him. He wanted her to break him. Azriel was all too aware of how her chest was so close to his, and with each rise and fall of it, with her every breath, her breasts scraped against his sternum. Through the fabric of the dress, he could feel her hard nipples peeking through, and a groan ripped from his throat as they brushed against his chest.

His hands shot out, gripping her waist, anchoring himself, but still needing to be closer to her. "Not yet, Azriel," she said, her voice low and full of desire. She hadn't rejected him, and yet, her words, not yet, they drived him crazy. Later, not yet, but later.

Letting go of her waist, letting his hands drop to his sides, he took a step back, she did the same and then headed for the door. "See you at the opera," he said and then saw the brief smile that tugged on her lips before she left the room, sparing a glance at him over her shoulder one last time.

The Day Court's opera house was a spectacular building, part of it made out of golden glass and a unique material Helion calls sunstone, a gift from the sun goddess. It was named like that as it glows in the light of the sun.

As they walked towards the entrance, two men opened the glass double doors that were no doubt heavy, considering their gigantic size. Inside, it was decorated with gold tones, a massive chandelier, more expensive than every other thing inside the opera, and bigger than Helion's pegasus, with crystals handing off from it and thin carpets. The ceiling stretched high above them, about thirty to forty feet high, Azriel guessed.

Black and white marble made the tiles of the floor, a cheesboard like pattern design taking up the expanse of the surface, and their shoes clinked as they their all made their way to Helion's private suite in the opera house. The seats were topped in red velvet and comfortable cushions, and Azriel had moved to sit in one of the front ones, Rhysand on his right and Helion on Rhysand's right.

The curtains of the stage were closed, and people gathered down. Azriel looked over the railing as the room started filling with citizens, most of them from the Day Court, but he could see a few from the Dawn and Summer Courts as well as the Winter Court, most likely having come just to see her perform. Seeing all those people only made Azriel want to hear her more. He craved to listen to the sound of her voice, and gods, he feared he was going to go mad without the sound of her singing.

Lights dimmed, signaling the start of the show, and then darkness as the curtains drew back, slowly, revealing her, in that same cobalt blue gown, with the uniquely styled hair, jewelry and that mask that Azriel did not mind at all. The room remained silent, choosing to respect her instead of interrupt her performance as she took a deep breath and the music started.

Violins opened with the melody, the musicians drawing down their bows, taking the lead, piano fortes following suit, the ivory and black keys playing in tandem with the rest of the orchestra as more instruments joined. As the music came to life, and then died down, her mouth opened and the notes flowed out of her.

The moment she started singing, Azriel was taken back by her angelic voice, the music playing along, with her. Her soft high notes were Azriel's new favorite sound and he could listen to her for hours and hours. The crescendo came crashing as her voice reached a high note, the echo of it bouncing off the opera's walls. Instruments intensified, the melody growing louder.

His mind didn't dare drift, as he stared at her, wanting to hear only her, see only her, be with her and only her. Her, her, her. He loved her.

Throughout the performance, the dress had transitioned from a blue one to a thin white one. A nightgown-like fabric hugged her curves, the silk covering her breasts. See-through fabric left the expanse of her ribs and sides bare, and a strip of fabric connected the two sides and concealed her abdomen. The skirt flowed all the way down to her ankles, like waves but out of silk.

On top, a thin cloak that stopped just above her shoulder blades provided the sleeves. Lace was embedded all over the outfit.

Her hair had remained the same, although they changed the color of her lips to a softer red, that almost appeared pinkish. The jewelry was gone, but the mask remained on her face. He couldn't help his curiosity and her avoidance of the question earlier was quite strange but he wouldn't blame her, it could be something sensitive to her.

As the performance progressed, he savored every note that came from her lips, relished in the music, the instruments that played different tunes, in synchronization, creating a unique song each time. A song that he got to hear her sing. And gods he loved it.

He watched her glide over the stage, twirling, smiling, dancing, crying, living her life, expressing herself through opera singing, music, and he tried to perceive every little detail. The hints of her changing emotions as she acted out her role perfectly, as the Phantom held her captive and once she was free. Emotions.

She showed emotions that felt so genuine he might have even mistaken them for genuine ones. Fear, relief, despair, joy, love.

Azriel didn't know when or how but his eyes were lined with silver, and a few tears had escaped his lips already. A faint sob came from Morrigan and he also heard Cassian's barely holded back whimpers. Even Helion was blowing his nose on a tissue box that Azriel didn't know of Helion had brought it with him or if it was permanently there for him. He ended up agreeing it was the second option.

Then show progressed and now, almost at the end, Erik kisses Christine, and Christine kisses him back. Azriel clenched his fingers into fists, tears long forgotten, until his knuckles turned white as her lips connected with this man's. As her mouth moved against another one. One that was not his. Gripping the nearest armrest, which happened to be Rhysand's, he held it tightly.

He locked his gaze to the kiss, watching exactly how the male grabbed her, his hand resting under her chin, and then, she pulled away first, but still Azriel was... jealous. It wasn't the first time he's been jealous, but he had never expected to feel like that for anybody, not after Morrigan, and yet, once he met her, he hadn't thought of Morrigan since.

After the show was finished, he was out of his seat, shooting to his feet, and using his carefully crafted excuse to retire for the night earlier. But he only sneaked backstage, waiting for her to appear.

Entering her dressing room, she found him sitting on the cushions of the couch, legs spread out in front of him. As she stepped through the doorframe, his gaze locked with hers. She found something other than lust in his stare. Possessiveness, jealousy.

"You kissed him," he stated firmly, his jaw ticking once. Y/n could see the tension in his muscles, and the Illyrian tattoos showing from the half unbuttoned tunic he wore. He probably had undone it on the way here.

"It was part of the show. Why? Are you jealous, Azzy?" The nickname had a wave of desire course through him, going straight to his core. Standing up to his feet, he pinned her against the door, the wood pressing onto her back, that was only partially covered. Gently, he grabbed her wrists, pinning each one on either side of your head. His warm chest was flush against hers, and he could feel her hardened nipples through the thin lace like fabric of the outfit she wore for the show against his chest. Breaths mingling, he leaned in closer, her scent invading his senses. Lavender and a hint of something sweeter. Intoxicating and utterly addictive. He loved it.

Releasing her one wrist, his hand moved and with a click, he locked the door, her gaze meeting his, already dark with desire. She fluttered her lashes, darkened by whatever they had used on them earlier. Azriel's eyes flickered to her lips. He wanted to ruin the red painting them. All this time holding back, she was testing his restraint so damn much, challenged it, teased it and the thing was, she didn't even realize she was doing it. Because to Azriel, everything she did just made him want her more. To hell if she'd ever killed anyone, or done anything bad. Damn it all, he didn't care.

And so, he leaned in closer and closer, his warm breath fanning against her lips, and latching his mouth on hers. It sent sparks singing and flaring to life all over him. A fire burned in his chest, flaring and threatening to consume him whole. Her lips felt as good as they looked. Better even. They were perfect and they were made for him.

Her light danced with his shadows, her sun singing to his darkness as it singed back. "Azriel," she whispered against his mouth, and he let out a low groan. Pulling back enough to speak, he looked into her eyes. Sincerity gleamed in them.

"Since the moment I saw you, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. I have been obsessed with you ever since Rhysand mentioned the talented opera singer in the Day Court. I love you, I've loved you since before I met you. My shadows sing for you, and your light sings for me." As if their powers had heard his words, her light flared, so did his shadows, as they wrapped together, tangling and entwining themselves with eachother.

His mouth connected to her neck "You. Are. My. Mate." For each word, he pressed one open-mouthed kiss on her skin, moving towards her throat. His mouth was demanding, and hot. Then, he pulled back to continue speaking.

"When I saw you kissing that man, it drove me insane, and if I could, I would've came on that stage, ripped him right off of you and take you, right there, in front of his eyes, so he could see that you were mine. But do you know what held me back?" Azriel paused for a moment, lowering his head. His forehead pressed against the crook of her neck as he breathed in her scent, letting it wrap around him.

"I don't want anyone see you like this. You are mine to see. I want to take my time with you, Y/n, map out your body, with my hands, my lips. I want to make you moan for me, and only me. No one else."

His eyebrows furrowed as he took in the tears in her eyes, as they fell down, ruining the kohl, but that was the least of his concerns. "Don't cry, what's wrong, darling, what's wrong?" Tears continued to fall, and he wiped them from her face. "Mate." That was the only word she would utter, and her voice broke as she said it. It shattered his own heart at the same time.

Her hands moved to the mask, touching it, tracing the shape of the thinner metal parts shaped like sun rays. "It's not possible, no, Azriel, you're not my mate, you're not my mate, you-"

"I am your mate, Y/n," he stopped her mid-sentence, grabbing her wrists and prying then away from the mask. She didn't budge as she kept touching the mask, that mask.

"But my mate is dead."

Azriel freezed in his place, hands falling to his sides as he stared at her with a wide-eyed expression on his face. She continued.

"My mate is dead, Azriel. I saw it, with my own eyes, he was stabbed, ten times, and I couldn't save him. I could only stare as she killed him, and then placed that mask on my face, declaring me Cauldron-cursed. I am Cauldron-cursed."

Azriel had heard about Cauldron-blessed people, and Cauldron-born people. But never cursed. Cauldron-cursed.

"I am the sun goddess. She's my sister, Amarantha. Our mother was mortal, my father is Helion, she doesn't know hers."

Amarantha, Amarantha, Amarantha. He knew that name, he recognized it. That queen, the one who had marched her armies into the mortal lands in the First War.

"Amarantha and I weren't on good terms. Once I had found my mate, she found him and chained me as she stabbed him, again and again. Ten times. She had made me a mask, this golden mask. It looks so innocent and yet it drains me, Azriel. It hurts. I'm dying slowly, and I don't know how to stop it."

Azriel was left speechless by her words. Trying to process everything. Her sister had killed her mate and placed that mask on her. And she's dying, his mate is dying. But her mate is dead.

Trying to make sense of it, he took a step back, not from fear or anything like that. He stepped away in order to think, to process everything. People don't have two mates, it's not possible.

"Take it off," she said to him, determination coursing through her veins. She guided his hands to the mask. "Take it off," she repeated, voice cracking slightly as tears fell from her eyes. They rolled down her cheeks as she looked at Azriel. Her entire body started to hurt, every inch of her aching. That pain clawed at her, as if slowly killing her from the inside, and that's exactly what it was doing. It was killing her, and Azriel was couldn't move, he was frozen in shock.

He was frozen in place, too frozen to react or hear her. His mind was reeling. "Take it off," her tone became firmer yet that breaking in her tone lingered. Azriel tried, to fight it, to grip that damn mask and take it off her face, to free her from the pain that would soon be her death. If he didn't stop it, she'd die. His mate, his mate, his mate. She would die and it would be his fault.

"Azriel, take it off!" Her words rang in his ears, as her voice became louder. He felt her breath quickening, heartbeat growing faster and yet somehow weaker. His mind worked, trying to piece together the information. Every detail, every word, connecting it to make sense. He couldn't save her, not until he figured it out. That was his own curse, that Amarantha managed to place on him. His own curse. Cauldron-cursed.

She was Cauldron-cursed, because of the mask. Cursed to die once she would meet her true mate.

He was Cauldron-cursed because he's her true mate, and a curse had been placed on him too, by Amarantha, who had stolen the powers of the Cauldron.

Because Amaranta had deceived her, she had manipulated her into thinking she had already met her mate, that her mate has died, and then living with that mask that hurt her only for it to kill her once she had found her true mate. He figured it out, he figured it out.

Amarantha had stolen the powers of the Cauldron so she could deceive he into thinking she had met her mate. He had figured it out, he had figured it out, he had figured it out.

"Take it off, take if off, take it off!" She repeated her voice faltering. He could see her fighting to keep consciousness as she begged at him to take the mask off. "Take it off, Azriel! Azriel! Take it off, please!"

Because she couldn't take it off herself, she had tried. Perhaps nobody could take it off, but she had to try. Repeating the words again and again, she took his wrists, placing them in either side of her mask.

So this was what death felt like, feeling her heartbeat in her ears, feeling as if it was pounding and yet it was only weakening. She felt every ounce of blood in her veins, and the amount felt lower with each second that passed. Throat closing, her vocal chords felt as if they might stop working at any second.

"Take it off, please, take it off, Azriel... please..." her pleads broke his heart, shattered it into a million pieces, and Azriel wasn't sure if he could ever pick up the pieces if he let her die. He had figured the truth out, his curse was broken and he was the only one who could break hers. His fingers closed over the thin metal of her mask. Grasping it in his hands, he gently tried to pry it off. Pulling it lightly, he didnt want to hurt her.

"Rip it off, Azriel, claw it off, there is no other way, just take it off, please..." and she was right.

This mask couldn't be taken off any other way, he had to rip it off. Taking a deep breath, he gripped it tighter, the sharp edge of the metal digging into his palm. "It hurts..." she whispers, her voice cracking. Blood wells up on his palms and a few droplets roll down. But her pleas, the way she told him that it hurts... that the mask hurts her, that it's killing her, he couldn't stand listening to her pain, see it, feel it through the bond. As he felt her pain through the bond, he for a moment, felt as if he too might die. So much pain, too many sensations blending together. Hopeless, that was how she felt right now. He felt it. All of it.

"It hurts..."

Azriel finally tore the mask from her face and it made a sickening sound as it left her skin. Holding it in his palms, he let it linger in his hands as they gripped it from the two edges of it. Looking back up at her, he noticed it had left a pale scar, the outline of the mask was now a line on the skin of her face. Discarding the mask somewhere inside the room, he raised one of his hands, tracing the scar with his index and middle fingers. A red droplet of his blood from his palm fell down on her chest, exactly at the place of her weakly beating heart.

He looked at her and he still thought was the most beautiful female he had ever seen, mask or no mask. His hand gently explored her now visible cheekbones, finger tracing the line of it and then moving to her eyebrows and lastly his thumb trailed over the line of her nose. Perfect, that was what she was. Utterly perfect, and he was utterly obsessed.

The golden thread that tied her to him hummed as it flared to life.

-------------------------☆-------------------------

a/n: I don't say this often but I am very proud of this fic 😁❤️ I have read over it at least three times and at first, I had thought of this plot line as an acotar adaption of 'Phantom of the Opera' but like reversed, but I'm very glad I adjusted it to this because I actually love it so much! Also I know some information does not exactly add up to the original acotar but it made sense with this fic (I hope) Also, when Azriel couldn't help her at the start, if anyone was confused it was because he was also cursed by Amarantha although he didn't know it. His curse was that he could only help her if he figured out what Amarantha had done (I know it's a bit weird but it just came to me on the spot and I wanted to extend the scene so... here we are)

general taglist: @blessthepizzaman @amara-moonlight @homeslices @flourishandblotts-inc

comment '💕' to be added to my general taglist!

Love, Cassia ❤️

#acotar #fanfic #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #angst #acotar angst #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #phantom of the opera #azriel spymaster #sun goddess #opera singer #opera #opera x acotar

33 notes · View notes

baratiddyappreciator · 8 months

Note

S/o who can sing good and like high notes like mariah carey

I won't lie chief, most of these giant buff nerds would try and find a way to use what we're going to refer to as The Note from this point on in a combat situation because that's powerful, but I digress.

Baki:

He 100% believes you when you say you're a good singer, but giving him proof is always going to be appreciated greatly. If his baby wants to sing for him, that's great and he loves it a lot, thank you kindly pookie.

He expects the singing to be good, some of the best he's ever heard, but what he isn't expecting is THE high note. Like how do you do that??? HOW?!

Of course, after hearing the high note and witnessing THE POWER of said high note, he'll immediately start wondering if it can be weaponized. Imagine if he could literally stun-lock an opponent in real life?!?

Definitely tries to get you to sing along to any songs with high notes so he can hear you hit them with ease and then brag about it to everyone he knows, even his dad.

"Oh yeah, my partner is super talented, listen to this!" Becomes a common thing to hear, he's so proud of you!

Kozue:

Silent wonder and admiration. How on earth do you get your voice to sound so angelic and in tune when you sing?! That's seriously impressive stuff! She doesn't understand any of it beyond it's hard work and impressive.

If she thought your regular singing was impressive (it is) then you hitting the high note is mind boggling (it is) and she doesn't know how you did that (sorcery, probably) but could you please do it again, because she's setting it as her notification tone.

The high note must be studied and admired. How loud can you go? Can you do wacky stuff like breaking a glass? Could you do better than an opera singer?! Probably not, but it's fun to ask and get so carried away the both of you just wind up dying of laughter on the floor.

She tries to get you to teach her how to hit a high note like that. It's impressive and she wants to know if she can get her voice like yours, though the look of disappointment in her eyes as you mention that dairy will make it harder to hit higher notes just after she's finished her iced coffee is palpable.

She's very proud when people compliment her new notification tone, and will purposefully send you a text to be answered whenever she's in a crowd so she can hear it over and over again.

Hanayama:

He'd act all unimpressed in front of his guys and just nod and give you a gruff little grunt (high praise from him, really) but behind closed doors he's practically begging you to sing him some old-timey song that he really liked as a kid.

The high note is a shock to be sure, but not an unpleasant one. He definitely didn't expect you to go so hard with your rendition of Frank Sinatra's Fly Me To The Moon, but he's glad you did, adds your own personal flare.

He thinks you're great and really skilled, it's super impressive he promises, but he can't really handle the high note all that often. On occasion, sure, but if he's gotta hear it multiple times in one day then he simply can't. He's got a limit on how much loud noises he can handle.

If you're ever wanting to look into getting a gig, however, he can 100% hook you up by calling on some old favors that he's owed by a few club owners, he's sure that they'd be more than happy to accept you on stage!

There's a silent pride in him when people talk about you, especially if you're up on stage. All those eyes on you as people talk about how skilled you are, but he's the one that gets to take you home.

Chiharu:

He's not a graceful singer, but can try. You start up, and he'll 100% join you. Sounds like a drunk old cat, but it's fine because it's fun! He greatly appreciates your skill regardless of his inability.

You hit a high note and he immediately demands you hit another. And then another, and another. He's fascinated. Sure his ears might hurt, but he adores your voice and he's going to listen to you.

He'll try to match the vibes and hit high notes with you, but he gets one voice crack and stops for weeks, can't look you in the eye. He demands you teach him how, but he's not the best at practicing. Once he gets it down enough for him to hit a relatively high note though, he absolutely will use it in a fight. He gets hit? He's gonna let out the highest damn squeak you've ever heard out of spite before he rocks his opponents shit.

He takes you out to karaoke bars often, especially if there are competitions so you can breeze through the others and enjoy the benefits of your superiority. And he's absolutely going to refer to you winning as you being superior, because in his eyes you are.

Loudly proud about you being so skilled. You start humming and he's ready to shout from the rooftops about how talented and skilled and good looking and amazing you are. As a matter of fact, he's done it at least once when he's had enough to drink.

Katsumi:

Oh he's definitely going to forget how to speak for a while, but if you're both having a fun moment he's joining in. His boys tell him he sounds like a dying echidna, but he doesn't really care, he's having fun with his baby and admiring their skill.

The high note takes everyone off-guard. That's just impressive. There's nothing more to be said other than "holy shit" and "wow" because that's the only words in their brains. The Karate boys are smart (ish) on their own, but together they have one braincell and it's completely overwhelmed by the Wow that they're all thinking.

Katsumi has no problem bragging about your skill. He doesn't stop doing it, actually, but asking him to stop is like asking him to NOT be proud that he bagged a skilled individual with the voice of a goddess, and that's basically impossible.

He's only ever hit the high note once and it's because Katou slapped his butt at full force while he was talking. Katou hasn't, and probably won't ever, let him live that down. On the plus side, he learned that he can hit the high notes like you, it's just hard.

He honestly might just get a billboard with your face on it in front of and on the Shin-Shin-Kai building so he can brag to everyone that walks past that his partner is super talented.

Jack:

A bit fuckin dense, he's probably not going to notice it's you singing until he actually physically sees you singing, in which case he'll happily just stand there and admire you while you're unaware.

The high note catches him completely off-guard, especially if you're singing in the other room and then hit it out of nowhere. That's a guaranteed way for him to come rushing in ready to either swing on someone or rush you to a hospital.

He entertains the same train of thought as Baki for a few seconds because yeah that'd be funny, and then he remembers that Gaia basically has done that before and his interest completely dies out from that point because he doesn't need a headache like that again. He's never letting the two of you be in the same room if he can help it though, just to be on the safe side.

The high note is one of the few things that wake him from a dead sleep beyond you screaming like you're being murdered. All it takes is for him to break through a door once for that fact to become clear, so there's no practicing within his earshot while he's sleeping.

He's definitely a silently proud individual. He admires the hard work and dedication you've put into it, but it's pretty rare that he brags about anything. That being said, given the chance he absolutely will sing your praises, he knows it's nice to hear.

Kosho:

He thinks it's good that you have a creative outlet that isn't dangerous to yourself or him, and he doesn't mind hearing you singing around the house while he stretches or trains.

His reaction to the high note is very similar to Jack, where he comes rushing in in a blind panic if you hit it out of nowhere, but he quickly processes it and it's something the both of you will laugh about eventually.

Oh he knows that a high note like that can be used in combat, but unless you have an interest in fighting yourself, he's not likely to ever see it in action, and even if you do it's not going to be something he wants used on himself, so please be merciful. Sometimes.

He knows that he hasn't been able to hit a high note like that since he was little, before puberty hit him like a bus, so he won't even attempt, but he'd definitely love to hear the technical part of how you make a sound like that.

He constantly humble brags whenever he gets the chance. "Oh your girlfriend is a singer? Yeah well my partner is the next Mariah Carey, get on my level." Do not put him in a room with the actual Mariah Carey, because he will tell her that you're coming after her crown.

Kureha:

Lowkey annoyed that you won't shut up but he does think your voice is pretty. Just, you know, in moderation. Just a little bit. He's trying to work baby, please just go practice in another room, where he can still hear you but it won't be as distracting.

Better hope he isn't drinking when you hit the high note because he will choke on it. The "perfect" Dr.Kureha Shinogi forgets how to human every time the high note is done in his presence, even if he's expecting it.

He knows that theoretically the high note could be used in combat, and Jack has told him about Gaia's screaming, but he shudders to think of anyone combining the volume and pitch in a combat situation, he'd break and he knows it.

If there's ever a work function or a conference that calls for live entertainment then SURPRISE SHAWTY! He's signed you up! Hope you don't get nervous in front of large crows. Oh also you only have two weeks to prepare. He's only a little sorry.

Given the chance, he loudly brags, but it's a shared brag. Why yes! You're both prodigies! It's only right that you wind up together! It's almost like the universe recognized that you both deserved someone with the same amount of skill!

Retsu:

Mystified and happy. He's flourishing, practically glowing as he listens to you. You're going to be totally unaware that he's there the first time you sing in front of him (unless you purposefully waited to show him) but either way, he's there and he's enjoying himself.

The high note catches him WAY off-guard. How did someone as sweet and soft (to him) manage to make such a big noise?! It takes him a solid minute but you'll both wind up laughing about how shocked he was.

He wouldn't dare think of using the high note as a fighting tactic, but he definitely can appreciate the shock value it caries when someone isn't expecting it. He'd definitely bring you to the arena and do a little trolling with you, just because he deserves to have some fun and you do to.

Oh he definitely tries to get you to sing along to some Mariah songs, she's talented and a genius with some real catchy ones, and if he ever gets the opportunity he's taking you to a concert, front row seats.

Highkey proud of you and not afraid to show it, but he's not interested in bragging to others about your skills, he wants to show you how great he thinks you are. He's constantly complimenting you anyways, this just gives him additional ammunition!

Doppo & Natsue:

Doppo's used to Natsue humming and singing around the house while she's doing her thing, be it chores or just going about her day, but having the both of you do it is something that brings him great joy and amusement, mostly because the both of you tend to completely stop once you hear the other and that's just hilarious to him.

The high note takes them both by surprise. Nobody's beating you on that one, Natsue's not going to try and Doppo knows damn well that he can't. That being said, he'd gladly give you a light teasing about being inspired by Mariah.

He's honestly more confident about leaving you and Natsue at home together whenever he leaves because he knows that if you need help you'll definitely be able to get the neighbors attention and stun an attacker, especially after what happened with Dorian, while Natsue just thinks it's neat and a skill that she's proud you've developed.

Both of them try and get you to sing more around the house, and if given the chance Natsue is throwing down with you on a Karaoke machine just so she can see you smile. Doppo, on the other hand, tries to recruit you for mischief. Katsumi has learned to survey his room whenever he's over in case you're hiding, waiting to pounce.

Non stop bragging on Doppo's part, but he does that anyways. His two loves are the best in the world and everyone deserves to know, especially the both of you, while Natsue is more than happy to gossip with the other moms in the area and brag about how talented you are.

Shibukawa:

He's pretty nice when it comes to your singing, even if he might give you a hard time just to get a laugh out of you, or see if he can break your composure. Bonus points if he gets you to break at the worst moment.

The high note inspires thoughts of evil in him. All those youngsters in the arena won't know what hit them the next time he gets a text or a phone call, because he's setting it up as his ringtone and he's not putting his phone on mute. You are the singular cause to every jumpscare in the arena from that point on. The others don't hate you, but hearing your voice for the first time in person definitely gets some interesting reactions.

He doesn't need to use tricks in combat, he already has some. Plenty, as a matter of fact. The high note is specifically for pranks only, thank you very much. He's going to recruit you.

He definitely takes you out to karaoke and introduces you as a beginner so that you can wipe the floor with the competition and laugh about it later over the prizes and stunned looks.

Oh he doesn't need to brag, everyone knows that he's proud of you. He doesn't even need to say anything, it's just insanely obvious. Especially with how many times he's scared the living shit out of Jack and Katsumi by playing your high notes. He's got different ones recorded too. You're his partner in crime, whether you like it or not.

#baki the grappler #baki son of ogre #grappler baki #baki dou #baki rahen #baki headcanons #baki hanma #kozue matsumoto #hanayama kaoru #chiharu shiba #katsumi orochi #jack hanma #kosho shinogi #kureha shinogi #retsu kaioh #doppo orochi #natsue orochi #shibukawa gouki

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