#bring waltzes back to ice dance

[sunskate]

this one always makes me cry without fail - the most musical team ever, skating one of the most beautiful programs ever. so delicate, expressive, nuanced

[cryptidghostgirl]

Destruction//Creation (Vox x Alastor's ex!Reader x Alastor)

Pairing: Technically Vox x Alastor but also a little Alastor x Reader

Description: Alastor refuses to let the past die and Y/n would rather pretend it never existed.

Warnings: Mild angst. Mentions of a past unhealthy relationship. I'll write some fluff of my own accord soon, I promise.

Word Count: 1,523

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

The party was supposed to be a fundraiser of sorts, designed to get the word about the Hazbin Hotel out into the world after their numerous previous failed attempts at doing so. Charlie had insisted all the overlords be there and even when Alastor had tried to leave the Vees off the guest list, she had caught him in the act and admonished him for it.

He cursed himself for not being quicker about it, more slick. Vox wasn't a threat but he was an annoyance and one Alastor would rather not deal with. The added threat of further dressing downs from Charlie should he fail to conduct himself in any less than perfectly pleasant in the mans presence was just the icing on the cake. Vox was screeching, he was haughty, he was overwhelmed by himself, he was-

Alastor's train of thought ran off, his breath caught in his throat. The man in questioned had entered, ready to join the fray, but that wasn't the distraction. No, the distraction came in the form of the charming little demon he was helping take off her heavy fur coat. Alastor watched as she smiled gracefully up at Vox, standing up on her tip toes and planting a tender kiss on his cheek.

How could he have forgotten? In the chaos of the past seven years, she had slipped from his mind. How had looking for her not have been the first thing he did when he was allowed any semblance of freedom? He could blame no one but himself. Now, she had fallen into the enemy's arms. Alastor bristled, seizing the opportunity of Vox bringing her coat over the to coat check Husk was running and using his shadows to appear at her side.

Y/n gasped as he materialized beside her, holding a hand to her chest in shock.

"Jesus... Al?"

Confusion marred her features as Alastor took her hand, whisking Y/n towards the dance floor.

"Hello, my dear." he smiled down at her as the music began.

It was a waltz, something by Shostakovich with all his wild rises and falls, all his nonconformity. The perfect soundtrack to their reunion, Alastor thought. Despite her shock, Y/n kept to the timing of the dance perfectly, never missing a step.

"But how... where..."

"I'm back now, darling. That is what matters."

Alastor dipped her and Y/n let out a sharp laugh. He assumed it was joy, it couldn't be anything other in his mind. She watched him in disbelief as he pulled her to her feet once again.

"I am so sorry."

She seemed only to be growing more confused by the moment. He reveled in her wonder as if it were the finest delicacy, a perfectly cooked steak. He had shown her the world again and again, he hoped never to stop having the opportunity.

"For what?"

Of course she would understand, wouldn't blame him, would know it wasn't his choice. She was always so unbelievably perfect like that, surprising him at every turn. Y/n fell into line without him ever even having to ask, it was just who she was. She didn't even have to try.

"For letting you fall into the arms of scum like that. He doesn't own your soul, does he?"

Y/n opened her mouth to speak but in his newfound joy, Alastor was unable to stop himself. How could he have forgotten? How could he have forgotten?

Her eyes, her smile, her sharp wit -- all of it. Y/n was and had always been, since the first day he had met her, the absolute center of his universe.

"It's no matter. That is easy enough to fix with a contract of our own."

"Alastor."

"Then everything will be all right, things will be just like the old days."

"Alastor."

He spun Y/n out, pulling her back in and catching her in his arms.

"Goodness, I've missed you."

"Alastor!" She pulled himself from his grip, panting.

They stood at the center of the dance floor, still among the whirling bodies. Y/n cleared her throat, smoothing the skirt of her dress. Alastor was thankful that the world around them seemed distracted for the moment, everyone too caught up in themselves and their own lives.

"My dear," he asked softly through gritted teeth, "what are you doing? You'll make an embarrassment of the pair of us."

"That's what I am trying to keep from happening."

"Whatever do you..."

Alastor trailed off, catching sight of Vox as he approached them, weaving in and out of the writhing mass of bodies. His eyes narrowed, his ears laid flat against his head.

Y/n leaned forward slightly, about to ask him what was wrong when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, a smile crept across her face at the sight of Vox.

"There you are, I've been looking everywhere for you."

Vox caught sight of Alastor now. Alastor expected the man to attack him, to boast, to do anything except what he did which was lean down to Y/n, his voice laced with concern.

"Are you alright? He didn't do anything to you, did he?"

Vox scanned her, looking for any visual signs of upset.

"No." Y/n patted Vox's hand reassuringly where it lay on her shoulder, "No I am fine, I promise."

"Alright, I am sorry. I just know..."

"I know. Thank you for remembering."

Alastor cleared his throat and Vox straightened as he and Y/n turned to face him.

"I have to ask you to leave my girlfriend alone." Vox stated.

His civility sparked something in Alastor, a familiar hunger.

"Your girlfriend?"

Before he could say another word, Y/n cut him off. She took a step forward as she spoke, Vox's hand falling from her shoulder.

"Yes, that is what I have been trying to tell you but you wouldn't let me get a word in edgewise, you never do."

"But..."

Alastor was completely at a loss for words, a rare occasion. His eyes flicked back and forth between Y/n and Vox.

"What can he give you that I couldn't? What can that bucket of bolts do better than me? I wasn't right, was I? Did you sell him your soul? I know I was gone but how foolish can you be, Y/n?"

She stiffened at the sound of her name on his lips.

"He lets me breathe, Alastor!" Y/n threw her arms in the air, adding emphasis to her words, "He lets me breathe. You never did that. With you, what you said went and I had to follow perfectly, I had to..."

She took a deep breath, her hands balled into fists. Vox took a step forward, they shared a look of reassurance.

"I was never happy with you." Y/n admitted, "I am with Vox. He is a good man, he treats me well, he listens, he takes me as I am."

"And I didn't?"

"No! No, you didn't. You wanted me blood hungry and ravaged, you wanted me as destroyer but that is not who I am. It never was."

Decisively, Y/n turned to Vox, his hand slipping gently into hers. Alastor watched in a mixture of shock and horror, unable to act.

"Do you want to go get a drink?"

"That sounds like a good idea. I think I saw Velvette already over by the bar."

"Of course." Y/n smiled.

The pair's locked hands turned into locked arms. Things had been good, he had thought they had been perfect. He had seen Y/n as the other piece of himself, the extension of the whole.

"I don't understand."

Y/n and Vox froze, their backs to him. With a soft pat to Vox's arm, Y/n turned to Alastor, her expression firm.

"I don't... I thought you loved me."

He was helpless, lost and floating. Alastor's mind ran wild, trying to regain any semblance of control over the situation. There was none to be found.

"I did." Y/n nodded sadly, "For a long time. I didn't know any better, I didn't know what love had the potential to be."

A moment of silence, a heartbeat.

"And he gives you that potential."

Y/n looked at Vox over her shoulder. When she turned back to Alastor, she was smiling. Alastor had never seen her smile like that before.

"He does." she confirmed.

"Come on, sunshine." Vox hummed softly from behind her, a hand outstretched, "Let's go get that drink."

Eagerly, Y/n ran up to him, their fingers entwining once again. Just as they were about to leave Alastor, standing alone on the dance floor, Y/n looked back at him. A wild hope flashed in his heart that was dashed when he was the conflict in her eyes.

"It was nice seeing you. I am glad you're alright."

"You too." his voice was weak, blurred. There was nothing he could do to stop it from being that way.

"I hope... this hotel seems good for you. I hope it works out the way you want it to."

---

Tags:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet 

@reader3

[aeferkssr]

♫ a night to remember - beabadoobee, laufey

soulmate au, slight royale au, kinda rushed, i got a stroke of inpriration and knew i had to get this out of me today or else it would of rotted in my drafts

the soft hum of conversation surrounds you and your friend, mualani, as you step into the cozy café. the scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries wraps around you like a comforting hug. she has been telling you about this cafe for months now and now that finals are over, you finally have the time.

you order from the cashier — an iced matcha latte with cold foam and extra sweetner, you can't stand bitter things, and a croissant -- and settle into a small table by the window. as you wait for mualani to order hers, your vision gazes around the cozy atmosphere.

the menu written in chalk and accompanied by small seasonal drawings, the wooden chairs you were seated on and the soft jazz playing lowly on the speakers. the windchimes hung on the door outside that swayed and played a soft melody. you close your eyes to fully soak in the ambiance. opening your eyes when you felt the table shift under you, expecting it to be mualani.

and then, you notice him.

long hair tied up in a neat braid flows down his back, shaggy yet kept tufts of hair at the crown of his head. you can't make out the details of his outfit but he seems to be wearing a black band tee with loose fitting jeans. he looks down to his coffee that was just handed to him and he turns around.

you feel... awestruck. immediatly, your head rung with a plethora of questions: "who is that?" "what's he doing here?" and most confusingly, "why does he seem so.. familiar?"

said "familiar stranger" now stands in front of you, gesturing to the chair beside you.

"is this seat taken?" he asks. the round table had 4 chairs surrounding its circumference -- originally planned for you, mualani, and your bags -- so you nod and take your bag up. he places down his coffee and sits on the plush chair.

its a little awkward with a complete stranger sitting next to you, so you look to your phone, swiping between home screens to at least seem busy.

your bag falls from your lap as you shift in your seat. the both of you look down at the soft thud and reach down to pick it up, your hands slightly grazing each other. the both of your eyes meet, then the world starts to blur.

suddenly you've been taken into a grand ballroom, the moonlight illuminating the candle lit. ornate shades of gold and silver start to surround you as your enveloped fully. other couples sway and waltz around you to the live orchestra playing to the corner of the room.

you gaze down in front of you to the same person you had just locked eyes with prior, the stranger dons a suit of ivory and gold, a blazer perfectly draped over his shoulders, and an ebony tie to match with his shoes. his rich, golden hair styled out of his face.

he leans down to press a sincere kiss onto your gloved hand, never once breaking eye contact,

"what's a fine lady as yourself doing at this place?" he queries, his gentle hold on your hand never ceasing.

you hum "clearly you know not who you are talking to. this is the ball father has arranged for my hand."

his gave widens then softens within seconds, a small smile develops on his lips. his hand entangles with your own and he brings his other arm around your waist, bringing you closer to him.

"the, may i have the honour of dancing with you this evening?"

"certainly," you mumble under your breath. too lost in his enchanting titian eyes to notice your shift in location.

"great! so i'll see you tonight at 6?" he squeezes your palm, both his hands encompassing yours as he waits for a response.

you agree half-mindedly as he flashes you one last smile and exits the cafe, the windchimes ringing as he opens the door. you watch him as he walks further and further from you, feeling as if something is missing.

you look down to your palm, still warm (and a little clammy) from the previous interaction. you didn't have the time to process what the hell just happened before mualani hops to your side, yapping about gods knows what.

"helloooo?~ earth to besiteee?~" she says with a sing-song tone, that finally snaps you out of the clouded gaze at your hand.

"oh you're whipped, huh?" mualani teases as she lightly jabs your side, her eyebrows wiggling at the interaction you had with the handsome stranger.

"no way, 'lani. i literally just met the guy." you respond, walking back to the cafe counter to pick up your food.

your mind wonders again when your by yourself. that interaction you had with this stranger was so enchanting, like you could of sworn you've seen him before.

maybe in another lifetime, maybe.

© aeferkssr. don't copy, crosspost, translate my work without persmission.

[sapphic-gardn]

i will

ellie williams x f!reader

summary: grief is complex and painful, ellie comforts you.

warnings: mentions of grief, nudity, ellie and reader take a bath together, mentions of boogers (yk when u have a runny nose from crying? yeah), no specific descriptions of reader other than having boobies and flesh, i dont think there is anything else but let me know!

word count: 1.3k

a/n: hi! i’ve returned from my hundred year long hiatus to torment you all. i started writing this comfort piece while i was experiencing life at Rock Bottom. i also found a lot of inspiration from the song i will by mitski <3 also thank you to @hier--soir for helping me with this one 💓 your writing inspires me, truly—i appreciate you tons & tons.

You find yourself curled up on the floor, the crisp breeze sweeping in from the crack under your front door. Chills dance over your skin, seeping into your body, coating your organs in a thin layer of ice. Your tears shed with a blue hue, painting your lips in a sheer lapis tint. Teeth chatter, bone against bone, reminders of the skeleton that is burrowed beneath layers of adipose tissue. Each exhale is accompanied by a dull ache.

Nights bring you here, disentangling your limbs from the warm confines of cotton sheets, calculated movements so as to not wake your girlfriend from slumber. The numbness creeps in through obscured dreams, visions of faces, now ghosts that haunt every distant memory. You emerge from the darkness, featherlight footsteps over creaky floors, loitering around the house amidst bewitching hours. You converse with the night sky, a one-sided interaction that mostly consists of your pleas—tell me why. Grief consumes you like tidal waves swallowing the shoreline. A mere particle of sand engulfed in foam, getting propelled further, further away from dry land.

The vibrations of Ellie’s bare feet padding on the wooden floor rumble through you. Her rasp breaks the silence. Baby—the only word that leaves her chapped lips, a pitiful tone leaking from her honeyed voice. Her hand caresses your tear stained cheek. Upon contact, a shrill sob rips through your larynx. You choke on anguish that rises like bile, it burns your esophagus as it creeps up.

Gentle hands guide your tenuous form to your feet, securing themselves at your sides. Subtle squeezes to the meat of your hips, wordlessly speaking—I’m here.

In your hazy state, you’re waltzed to the bathroom. One of Ellie’s hands fumbles with the light switch while she delicately maneuvers your entirety to sit upon the closed toilet seat. Cold porcelain hits the backs of your thighs, you hiss at the contact, a wince paints your expression. Ellie coos your name, a hushed thing that warms you from the inside. You study her features, a line forms between her furrowed brows, her green eyes searching for your own. Her gaze brings a settling feeling, something like a merciful wake up call. Ellie’s earthy scent mingles with the air. You inhale, the musky essence settles in your lungs, growing limbs and reaching for your heart; wrapping itself around the muscle in a tight embrace.

A tear slips past your waterline, her calloused thumb swiftly catches it as it trails down your cheek. A smile tugs at Ellie’s lips, “You’ve got boogers,” she gestures to your mucin coated upper lip with her pointer finger. An involuntary chortle escapes your mouth, alighting your saddened expression, “There she is, my pretty girl.”

Her focus shifts to the tub beside you, leaving the spot in front of you to turn the faucet on. Ellie peers over her shoulder to look back at you, “Let’s get you warmed up, yeah?”

Her digits fiddle with the running water as it warms, you examine the way her tendons tug at her knuckles, the freckled skin pulled taut with each swipe under the stream of water. Your eyes land on her side profile, you trace the shape of her nose and the protrusion of her pout like an etch a sketch to your brain. You count the freckles on her face, connecting them like constellations. Admiration blooms in your chest, you clutch your shirt where your heart beats faster.

Once the tub fills halfway, Ellie is undressing you—delicately tugging at the hem of your sleep shirt, pulling the thin material over the peaks and valleys of your body. Her touch is silken, it tickles your nerve endings, chills awaken beneath her fingertips. With each sliver of skin revealed, she whispers, beautiful, you’re so beautiful. And in these moments, you believe her, she utters the words with such conviction. You breathe with ease, allowing yourself to surrender to the woman disarming you.

She guides you towards the tub. Soft hands on your arm, your waist. That low, rasping voice in your ear, one foot, now the other… easy now, until you’re over the lip of the tub and being lowered into warm water. You let yourself sink a little lower, feel the water lap over your neck, your hair. You tilt your head back until everything is submerged except your face. Your eyes close, listening. You let the pressure of the water beat against your eardrums. Oceanic sounds bounce around inside your skull. For a split moment you are the sand and the sea, a shell burrowed in the earth.

When your eyes open, you meet the longing gaze of your partner. She admires the halo-shape your hair forms as it floats, the curve of your breasts breaking the surface, the way your tummy moves in waves with each steady inhale and exhale.

Your eyes wander to where Ellie is stepping out of her boxers, peeling her worn tank top over her auburn bed head, discarding the article in the tile. Her focus never falters from you. She looks so beautiful like this, the soft white light casting an illuminating glow to her supple skin. You sit up, folding your legs in, scooting forward—silent invitations. With two long strides, Ellie’s lanky limbs are climbing into the tub behind you. Your bodies mingle, arms and legs tangle and untangle, an uncoordinated tango.

Ellie surrounds you, she is everywhere. The warmth radiating from her coats every inch of your flesh like a blanket. Her thighs are pressed up against the sides of your own, caging you in, the physical security plucking away at your guardedness. Slippery arms snake around your middle, a vice grip pressing you against her front. You feel her heartbeat thump against your ribcage, feel her chest rise and fall with each breath. A connection so primal, so powerful, tethering you to her. Her lips graze the crook of your neck, a sigh escapes you, releasing the tension held in your abdomen. Taught muscles unfurl; a calmness washes over your senses.

Ellie begins to hum, short breaths tickling the shell of your ear. You recognize the song, familiar but just out of reach.

“What are you singing, baby?”

Ellie hushes you, “Shh, shh, just listen to me.”

Her gravelly tone recites the lyrics, “When all my hair turns grey, enter our twilight years,” you listen intently, the song bubbling at the forefront of your mind. A memory plays, placing a fragile disc in your record player, the needle spinning in its grooves, Ellie excitedly rehashing how she found it on patrol.

Both of you sat on the couch that night and tuned in, entwined and entranced. During the fourth song, Ellie stood, offering a hand—dance with me. And so, your bodies swayed around the living room as one entity. “And our friendships slip away, finding it hard to hear.”

Ellie memorized the lyrics, serenading you for weeks, “No I’ll never be afraid, as long as I still have you,” confessing her feelings through the Alessi Brothers.

And now, she croons the same song, “Together in an ocean of life / Just yours and mine / Motionless time / Love is the answer to eternal life.” Easing your mind, caroling the words that never come easy to her in conversation. Reminders of the fire you alight within her, the tenderness you pull out of her.

She is the breeze, the fierce wind that wrestles with the water. She reels you in from the deep end, a lifeline cast before you take your final breath. Her presence is a sanctuary, your vulnerability takes refuge in her arms—your safe haven.

[end]

a/n: hiii!! if you read this all the way through, thank you! it’s my first time posting an ellie fic so i’m a liiiitle nervous eeee! also im a little rusty on my writing so forgive me if this sucks 🧍🏽‍♀️ and i gave up on editing my last read through bc i need to get this fic out or i will never post it

i have an ellie series and a one shot planned out so hopefully it won’t take me a lifetime to post those!!! okieee byeeee 💓

tagging moots: @ilovepedro @gracieheartspedro @undrthelights @daydreamingmiller @chaotic-mystery @cavillscurls @amanitacowboy (idk who else to tag i dont have an official taglist lol why is this so embarrassing)

[pininghermit]

A God's Worship

Request: I hope you are doing well 💗 I love the new Adrian x dutchess reader story. I got the prompt, 'Psyco'. I was wondering if you could write a Adrian Tepes x female reader story where the reader is a bit unhinged. But he is madly in love with her. Like a dark, twisted tale. 😁

AN: Hello anon, thank you for reading my work! Here is your request. I hope you enjoy this. Unhinged but madly in love readers are my fav. I tried something new by writing this one poetically.

Genre: drama & angst ig

Pairing(s): Alucard x gn Reader

Summary: His breath hitches. His heartbeat slows. His eyes flutter shut beneath your touch. And the world falls apart.

Some sacrifice love for good. Some burn the world for love. Some light it up. And some… create a new one.

This story is for those who become God to worship their love.

"It is not real!"

Adrian clutches Lisa’s hand, his golden eyes wide, trembling with frantic terror.

"You're dead!"

His body, shrouded in blankets, wracks with shivers as he points a shaking finger at his father.

"And you… I killed you. Why are you here?"

He flinches from their touch, ignoring the gentle hands trying to soothe him, to press a cup of medicine to his lips.

"My dear," Lisa whispers, cupping his damp cheeks. "It is a dream. We are here with you."

She pulls him into her arms, a mother’s warmth, he remember it well. Her warmth, the scent of herbs and ink...his mother.

"A nightmare of the past. Your father and I live. We are alive."

But her words are hollow, empty as the castle halls.

Adrian presses his hands over his ears.

"This is a lie… a spell, a dream, an illusion." His voice wavers, a fragile thing on the brink of breaking. Sweat drips from his temple, strands of pale hair clinging to his nape.

Then—

"Shhh."

A voice silences the storm in his mind.

A whisper, just by his ear. Lips brushing his skin.

"You are safe."

His breath hitches. His heartbeat slows. His eyes flutter shut beneath your touch.

And the world falls apart.

Adrian links his arm through yours.

It takes effort, his gaze refuses to leave you tonight.

The winter ball of the Fae glows with silver light, a kingdom sculpted from frost and moonbeams. Next to him, you are a wonder, robes spun from the midnight sky, glimmering with woken stars. Your hair cascades down your back, untamed, luminous with crystals of ice braided in.

The court is frozen in time, statues carved by the careful hands of devoted brownies.

His mother and father are lost in a sea of dancers, their laughter carried by the wind, lost among masked dancers.

Adrian rubs his thumb over your palm.

"You look beautiful, my love."

He leans closer, his breath warm against your skin.

"Dance with me?"

At your nod, he whisks you onto the floor.

His arms around you. Yours around him. Closer than ever.

He dances with the same effortless grace as his father.

Dracula, after all, had taught him the waltz of the Unseelie Court.

Sun-spun hair rests beneath your fingers. He smiles, laughter spilling from his lips, his eyes never leaving yours.

His steps creak—

Not against polished marble, but against worn wooden floors.

Dust shifts beneath his shoes, months of neglect disturbed with each movement.

Yet his smile remains.

His eyes remain lost in the illusion of your faraway court.

Perhaps it would be easier to let him stay here.

If it brings him joy, you would leave Dracula’s crumbling castle in a heartbeat.

"Do you like it here?" You nod to the marvelous sights of your court that your beloved revels in.

Your fingers weave into his hair, cradling the warmth of his head against your palm.

"Why not stay longer?"

The question is light, effortless. Crafted with delicate precision to mask the quiet desperation curling inside you.

What you would not do to have him here, in your world.

To drape him in silks, to spoil him with the everlasting luxuries of your court.

Adrian frowns.

Hesitation lays itself bare upon his face, a fragile thing for you to pluck away at first sight.

Spells make it easier to read him.

"No… please, no." His fingers tighten around your sleeve, his grip trembling. "I cannot leave home."

His steps falter. His eyes clear, gold sharpening through the mist of illusion. "Must stay with mother...and father," he whimpers.

The edges of your glamour wither, fragile as the first frost beneath morning light.

"Alright, beloved."

You pull him into your embrace, his breath shaky against your shoulder.

"No more. We won’t leave. We shall stay where you wish"

With a mere thought, the phantom forms of his parents step closer.

"We shall stay with your parents."

A reassurance. A spell. A carefully woven promise.

You usher him back into the comfort of his dream. The world you have made for him.

Your beloved is happy there. Fulfilled.

Who are you to deny him?

Here, the castle stands untouched, as it had in the past.

Here, the bodies of traitorous friends do not rot in the woods.

Here, the church has never burned.

Here, the humans still live.

Here, you have given him the world he desires.

And in return, Adrian chooses life.

Next to you. Here.

You twirl him in your arms, guiding him through another waltz beneath the dream-lit sky.

He dances with you, laughter slipping through his lips, until exhaustion drapes over his shoulders like a heavy cloak.

His body leans into yours. He tires more easily now. Agitation wears at him faster, the strain of his soul bound to your spell pressing upon his fragile form.

It had been his fading soul that led you to this.

By the time you found him, it was already too late.

Broken by grief, your beloved had been lost to the cold corridors of his misery, wasting away within the crumbling bones of his father’s castle.

But you refused to let go of him.

Your love, your passion, your despair, your grief, it was all his.

But mercy?

No.

You refused to grant him that.

You refused to let his soul wander where you could not follow.

So, you made him a world.

Seared his soul to yours.

Even death would not take him. Not at the cost of him.

You yawn, feigning drowsiness.

"Shall we retire?"

Adrian blinks up at you, bleary-eyed, nodding without question.

You lead him to his room, guiding him to the bed with a gentleness neither of you deserve.

He does not question the sudden shift in scenery.

Does not question the way his vision wavers, as if some part of him knows.

He simply settles into your arms, his face buried against your neck, breathing softly.

And you hold him closer, knowing he will never wake from this dream.

[mintytealfox]

We got vampire Norton and Alice..,

BUT WHAT ABOUT VAMPIRE FOOL'S GOLD AND ALICE???

OOOHH HHOHOHOHHOHOHOHOHOHOOOOOOOOO~

I SEE YOU ANON LOL I GOTCHU 👀🙏🙏🙏🙏

So Fool's Gold comes out when Norton gets TOO MUCH blood heh

So Norton can't have too little blood or too MUCH blood or he starts loosing control of himself hehe

When Fool's Gold comes out, that means he is feeling GOOD, getting all loosie goosy, content, and playful PFF but also dangerous, cause Fool's Gold wants to ALWAYS feel good, which means he wants too much blood always. So he can get way too blood thirsty, and with this form being much stronger and ruthless than his normal form, can prove a problem 🙃

This is when Alice will be of GREAT help lol

I can see her trying to match FG's playfulness to keep his attention on her. Like her doing the waltz by herself waiting for FG to notice her. He just stops in his tracks and hurries over to her to slip into his spot, picking her up and waltzing with her. As he calms down and starts becoming more gentlemanly he lets her down on the ground and is willing to bend all the way over so they can both be dancing. So he can dip her and twirl her as well.

Dancing becoming a major way to mellow him out and soften him up again, remembering how to be gentle.

-----

Once she gets him to the point where he will just sit and listen to her, it is usually a safe bet that anyone else around is now safe, but they still need to stay out of view pff lol

(if he spots anyone but Alice he will started getting all jazzed up again and ready roll and Alice will need to start from square one again PFF)

but the image of FG laying his head on her lap, as she sits next to him, and enjoying the feeling of her fingers through his hair and her gentle touch exploring his facial features.

-----

She will be able to calm him down enough to where he won't bother to look for more blood to stay active since he just wants to enjoy Alice's company ,but he will play at the idea that maybe Alice should share some of her blood with him so he can feel this good for a bit longer, and sometimes she agrees.

In FG mode, he likes to drink blood from the person, and usually not gentle about it, but with Alice, he is the perfect gentleman lol Just carefully lowering himself and bringing her arm up to him to meet somewhere in the middle, to bite just enough to draw some blood and takes very little from her. Her blood could probably be best described as "super rich cake icing" LOL can only handle in small portions 🤣🤣🤣 but even if her blood wasn't like that he would only take very little.

-----

FG would probably carry her around everywhere after wrapping up her arm causing Alice to playfully roll her eyes

Alice: "I am barely bleeding, I am just fine to walk around without this bandage on my arm~" FG: "oooooorrrrr, you can let me do this for you~" Alice: "you barely took a drop of blood this time, I don't think this requires this much special treatment" FG: "ooooohhh milady please don't deny me this opportunity to care for youuuu~" -drama- Alice: "PFF alright alriiight~"

-----

It likely takes around 48 for FG to return to normal Norton form again, but usually 24 hours prior its FG with Norton consciousness which is usually a very pleasant time for the both of them, Cause Norton feels good and gets to be himself again without the feral aspect pff. And Alice gets her usual Norton back and they can just sit and read together and all the things they usually do, just Norton is big lol

-----

But GOSH the scenario when Alice meets Fool's Gold Norton for the first time??? I bet that didn't go overly well PFFFF A lot of trial and error trying to get Norton back to normal OH MY GOSH

[clownakai]

"Dance with me."

Shuuichi very nearly chokes on his drink. "Pardon?"

Scotch smiles beatifically back at him. Definitely tipsy, at least a little bit. "Dance with me."

"I can't dance," he blurts out, the lie slipping past his lips as smooth as breathing.

Silence falls over the flat, only broken by the sound of Mochi's hissing from inside Scotch's bedroom; Hana has probably been bothering him again.

"That's fine," Scotch eventually replies, "I'll just have to guide you." With all due respect, fuck that.

"Why?"

"Well, I obviously can't let you lead if you don't know how to dance." Scotch leans back against the couch, looking for all the world like someone who just cracked the Twin Prime Conjecture or some other equally convoluted math problem (thank you, Shuukichi).

Shuuichi scowls, bringing his drink to his lips only to realize that the glass is already empty, again. "Why would I want to?" he clarifies.

"Ugh." Scotch rolls his eyes, muttering something about all workaholics being the same. "Live a little, why don't you? We can even turn the lights off if you're that embarrassed."

Way more than slightly tipsy, Shuuichi corrects his previous assessment with a sigh. "I'd be stepping on your toes the entire time if we did that."

"You'd manage it even with the lights on."

Shuuichi's eyes narrow. For the sake of his lie, he doesn't correct Scotch's claim. Let the guy believe what he wants, so that proving him wrong will be that much— hm.

He glances critically at his empty glass. He'd better cut back on the drinking for tonight, lest he want to end up embarrassing himself for real.

Then again, if he doesn't dance at all, those chances will inevitably drop to zero, thus allowing for more drinks to be had. Who knows, he might even get something mildly useful out of his flatmate in that case.

Scotch shifts in his periphery, successfully drawing Shuuichi's gaze to himself. He knows exactly what he's doing: it's in his posture, so loose and relaxed it can be nothing but studiously arranged; in his hands— long, calloused fingers loosely holding up a crystal glass (and petting Hana and chopping vegetables and dancing on bass strings and carding through Shuuichi's hair); in his eyes, so very blue and positively smoldering (there's a sliver of ice in them, ready to pierce and tear and sink: Shuuichi pretends he doesn't see it).

Tipsy, but no less dangerous because of it: Shuuichi had better keep that in mind. He should tread carefully, play it safe— turn down the offer once and for all.

Oh, who is he kidding?

"Fine." He puts his glass down with a clink. "Show me how to dance."

Scotch looks, for lack of a better descriptor, absolutely delighted. Shuuichi suddenly regrets more than a few of his life choices.

The other man stands up with remarkable grace for someone who has been drinking for the past hour and a half; he waits for Shuuichi to do the same, and at no point does he stop looking at him— through him, digging and searching and for a weightless moment Shuuichi wonders—

"I set the music up, you get the lights?" Scotch asks, blinking it all away.

Shuuichi valiantly holds back a grimace, but nonetheless moves to comply. "If we fall and break something, do me a favor and shoot me before Bourbon comes back."

Scotch snorts, and Shuuichi's stomach most definitely does not do a little victory dance. It doesn't.

He flips the light switch, plunging the living room into darkness: the only remaining light sources are Scotch's phone and a stray ray of moonlight feebly peeking past the mostly-closed curtains. Shuuichi takes advantage of those to orient himself, smoothly padding past the couch with nary a sound; he's sadly not fast enough to catch a glimpse of Scotch's screen, instead finding himself being led to the emptiest part of the room as the first notes of a simple waltz begin to fill the air.

"Right. So, the first thing you want to do is—" Shuuichi only has an inch or so on Scotch, height wise; it's certainly not enough of a difference for him to successfully pretend not to be taken by the moonlight striking the man's features, only barely reflected in his eyes.

(There they are, those shards of ice. Primed and ready, a hair's breadth away.

Ever the fool, Shuuichi inches closer.)

"— even listening to me?" Scotch asks, sounding torn between amusement and mild annoyance.

"My right hand in your left," Shuuichi absentmindedly parrots, "my left on your shoulder. You go left foot forward, the other to the right, close with the left, then right foot backwards, the other to the left, and close with the right. I just mirror you."

"... Okay, good." Scotch doesn't sound baffled, but Shuuichi is pretty sure he went a little overboard and recited something the other hadn't said yet. God fucking dammit.

"I know what a waltz is," he tries to salvage, "I've just never tried dancing it." For his own sake, Shuuichi prays that all the drinks he had tonight will help him sell the beginner act he talked himself into.

Scotch gives him no verbal answer; nonetheless, the silence feels as loud as a blaring horn to Shuuichi. Then there are hands on him, one coaxing his own upward while the other slips under his arm and comes to rest on his back, miraculously avoiding getting caught in his hair at it splays right beneath his shoulder blades, and Shuuichi almost forgets to let Scotch guide his hand into the correct position rather than doing it himself.

Right now, he might hate his own shirt more than anything.

"Alright." Scotch is... close. Not quite chest to chest, but still enough for Shuuichi to smell a hint of alcohol when he speaks. "Waltzes are in three quarters, so we're just going to— one, two, three."

Shuuichi doesn't even need to pretend: he stumbles through the first few rounds, the hand on his back burning like a brand. He wonders if Scotch can feel Shuuichi's heart jackrabbiting beneath his fingers, a caged beast in its own right.

(It sure feels to Shuuichi like it's trying to claw its way out of his chest.)

The waltz eventually gives way to a slow song Shuuichi doesn't recognize but is still aware enough to know how to adapt to: he doesn't startle when all of a sudden Scotch is everywhere, chest pressed against his and arm dipping to Shuuichi's waist and face so close the tips of their noses almost touch— yet he's deafened by his own heartbeat, a relentless drumming in his ears as Scotch meets his eyes and smiles.

"So you did lie to me," Scotch murmurs, smile widening when Shuuichi freezes. "This one's in four quarters, so it's no longer a waltz. But you didn't need me to tell you that, did you?"

Shuuichi swallows dryly. With how they're standing— with how Scotch is holding him—, the flush he can feel creeping onto his cheeks is just about the only thing he can feasibly keep to himself; everything else is fair game, from twitching hands and shallow breathing to faltering steps and a heartbeat so loud he struggles to convince himself that the other still can't hear it.

"No," he admits, and watches the ice spin in Scotch's eyes. "I didn't."

Shuuichi almost expects the operative to let go, to step back and put a healthy distance between them; what he gets is Scotch's fingers drumming a silent tune on his waist and one of the guy's legs moving forward in a tacit bid to keep dancing. Shuuichi obligingly follows, happy enough to let the other lead while he gets his shit together, although he puts his foot down the moment Scotch tries to raise their clasped hands above their heads.

"You're not turning me," he huffs, then curses himself for speaking up when Scotch's breathy laugh warms his lips.

"Next time, then." The weight around Shuuichi's waist disappears, and this time Scotch steps away for good, leaving him cold, adrift and hungry for something he can't quite place.

Shuuichi stares at his retreating form— what little he can distinguish of it in the dark, at least—, then sets out to distract himself by clearing the low table of all evidence of their drinking. It'll certainly not be enough to fool someone like Bourbon, but it'll knock 'leaving a mess for others to clean up' off the list of complaints he might receive tomorrow.

He knows what this— all of this— was. He's been taught how to do the same himself and he can't afford to fall for it.

(He thinks of those eyes, dark waters waiting to drown him.)

He really, really can't.

(Scotch took his phone with him, but Shuuichi still hears something: one-two, three-four; one-two, three-four. It's nothing like the all-encompassing drumming from before, and it makes him wonder...

Maybe his heart had felt so loud because it wasn't the only one he'd been hearing.)

[bi-focal12]

This is my first time participating in flash fiction friday but I had a lot of fun, thanks so much for the prompt! @flashfictionfridayofficial

Content Warning: suggestive content

Title: Slip | WC: 591

The moon is bright when Margaret's hand draws me into wakefulness.

Her cold fingertips press against my arm like piano keys- tap, tap, tapping a scale that brings goosebumps to the surface and bores her the second my skin grows used to the touch.

She smiles, a finger raised to her lips, and I remember that Margaret has the prettiest teeth I've ever seen. Pearly and straight and not at all afraid to bear down until I bruise. The memory blooms before my eyes as I watch her sway around the room, picking up her hairbrush, then a headband. The echo of her perfect press of lips will linger in the days to come like a love letter and ache in all the ways that I do when she's not around.

"It's late," I murmur, sparing a glance towards my alarm clock.

Margaret continues to dance like I hadn't said a thing and I continue to watch her, content to swallow down the sentiment.

What did late matter when Margaret was drawing closer with those eyes, leaning down to pluck the observation from behind my teeth like sweet oranges in the summertime? What was the hour compared to the way Margaret crept out of the room with my breath still caught in her lungs?

The floor creaks under my weight when I slip from the bed- a clumsy cat to Margaret's graceful creeping- and I follow her humming out of the bedroom.

Here, the moon peers in like a voyeur and bathes Margaret, elbow to hip, in her soft and hazy glow. Margaret's slip is practically sheer. Pathetically mesmerizing.

My pajamas are threadbare, but they cling to her echoing touch in all the right ways and I can't help but take a few steps forward, hand outstretched and hesitating half an inch before her hip.

"Marg," I say, then I stop. Swallow. "Margaret," I try again.

"That's my name," she whispers back.

My fingers catch in the hole against my own hip, instead.

Don't wear it out, I think. But I don't think a name like Margaret could ever be worn out when it's used for a girl like her.

"Margaret," I croon slowly.

She rolls her eyes with another, secretive, almost-smile, eyes glinting in the low light. I'm close enough to see the way the moon colors her eyelashes silver.

She waltzes into the kitchen and I get the feeling I'm supposed to wait, so I do. I pick up humming the tune Margaret had begun, drifting toward the window to play with the curtain hem, unable to put together a picture based on the sounds she's leaving behind.

I imagine the curtain is Margaret's slip, instead. They're almost the same color.

"Is this what you wanted, Beth?" Margaret calls out, voice cutting through the empty space between us like she's right beside me.

I drift forward toward the kitchen, smiling, still rubbing the sleep from my eye, and the expression wobbles like a figure skater on the ice- spinning, spinning, spinning.

The eggs are on the floor. The ones that she bought.

Margaret's coat is gone from the rack.

"I really tried, you know?"

Yolks spill slowly out of their fragile shells, bathed in a refrigerator halo, trembling under the weight of the front door- closed, firmly.

Unlocked.

Margaret's key is still hanging by the door.

Spinning...spinning...spinning...

Something wobbles, something burns, and I'm crouched down beside the eggs, my father's voice in my head and Margaret's perfume on my skin, already fading.

Don't wear it out, I think again.

[looneyleyle]

bitchy kie ~ j. maybank

synopsis: midsummer's and john b's hospital visit seem to push kie to snap, at her best friend in the world nonetheless. snap crackle pop!

warnings: some kie hate

words: 1882 words

note: from my wattpad account, written april 18 2022

paisley pov

kiara and i rarely ever fought. sure, we'd have petty quarrels every now and again, but never any full blown fight. this, however, was much different than any other time, and i didn't have the slightest clue as to what i did wrong.

kiara had invited me to midsummer's, despite me being a pogue. her parents had essentially taken me in when i started working at the wreck two years ago. they had even lent me a beautiful dress for the occasion. it was short, wavy at the skirt, and light orange, paired with a beautiful moon necklace. mrs. carrera even made me a flower crown, which i couldn't thank her enough for.

everything leading up to midsummer's went just fine. kie and i got ready, throwing compliments at each other left and right. we blasted music throughout the room, dancing playfully like the two teenage girls we are. when we got to midsummer's, we made snarky comments about the kooks, and we had to hold each other to contain our laughter when rose cameron waltzed in with that absolute monstrosity perched upon her head. when pope arrived, the air was still light, the three of us joking around, trying to keep our minds off of the incident with jj earlier on.

i think it all went downhill when jj was being escorted off of the premises by one of the guards. as kie was going to speak up for him, i yelled out about how he was my date, and that they had no right to throw him out. kie had her parents watching, and us pogues were already on thin ice with them. it was best for them to be mad at me for bringing jj than for them to be mad at kie for bringing him and 'embarrassing the family name' or some other bullshit kook idea they have.

when the words escaped my lips, the guard pushed jj my way. i caught him and he put an arm around my waist, making my lie more believable. he then twirled me away from the scene to the music, downed some man's drink, and yelled for a mandatory pogue meeting at rixon's. holding my hand, he didn't wait for the others to follow behind us.

we all whooped and hollered, having a great time, before settling down for this mandatory meeting. john b brought up his treasure hunt again, leading me to look at jj skeptically. he squeezed my hand, motioning for me to keep listening.

i didn't look at kiara at all during the first half of the meeting, but when the name 'sarah cameron' was slipped, she went apeshit.

"you let a kook in on our secret?!" she screamed. they all went back and forth for a bit, kiara not calming down in the slightest.

when john b and kiara were done arguing, everything went silent.

"so…" jj trailed off, trying to find something, anything, to say. kiara raised her eyebrows at him, and then did the same to me. i looked at her questioningly, not understanding why she all of a sudden had beef with me. jj shifted a bit, making me aware of the arm that had been around my shoulders throughout the argument. i didn't pull away, however, and despite kiara's piercing glare boring into my soul, i found myself becoming drowsy. my eyes drooped as my head fell onto jj's shoulder.

when i woke up, i was in roughly the same position, but in the back of the van instead of around the fire pit. john b was nowhere to be seen, pope and jj were immersed in conversation, and kiara sat alone, staring out the window and towards hawks nest. i stayed in jj's arms, still teetering on the line between sleep and consciousness.

if possible, kiara's mood was soured even more by sarah cameron leaning over john b's limp body, crying, kissing his lips as if it were a disney movie. that mood continued as sarah insisted on staying by him at all times, waiting for him to wake up.

"i could honestly care less that john b decided to befriend that snake, but she acts as if she's the only one there for him! hello, he has four perfectly good friends right here who care about him way more than she could ever even fathom!" kiara ranted, the four of us sitting around the château. due to all the injuries agatha caused, there was a limit of two visitors per person in the hospital, and some mystery man and sarah cameron filled up those two spots before the rest of us could have a say.

"at least we know that he's in stable condition. he won't drop dead, it's just a matter of time before he wakes up." i suggested, trying to calm her down. she chuckled bitterly. a burst of anger went through my body, what did i do?

"if you have something to say, by all means, get it off your chest. you've been acting like a bitch ever since we left midsummer's." i told her, arms crossed in front of me. a quiet "ooooooh" came from jj, but i was focused on kie.

"it's easy for you to be all easy-going right now, isn't it? it's only john b in the hospital. but if your boy toy were in there, you'd be raising hell over the fact that we can't go and visit."

"my 'boy toy'? and who exactly is that?" i asked, irked and a bit genuinely confused as to who she's referring to.

"isn't it obvious? you two are practically joint at the hip! all you ever do is eye-fuck each other!" kie yelled. jj shifted against me, nearly glaring at kiara.

"drop it kie." he said lowly. she just laughed sarcastically at that, deflating. i didn't feel like talking to her anymore, so i dropped it and got up to leave.

"paisley? where're you going?" jj asked, also getting up.

"i'm going home. goodnight." i told him, already walking away. i heard him follow me, but i didn't protest.

surprisingly, jj didn't say anything for the whole walk. he stayed in stride with me, occasionally whistling a little tune. when we got to the little house i shared with my mom and siblings, he spoke up.

"you okay? i've never seen you and kie fight like that." a sigh escaped my lips.

"i don't know why she's being so pissy right now. we were fine up until midsummer's! then she's mad at me for trying to calm her down? like what the fuck was that all about?" i ranted. jj nodded, not saying anything.

"and then the whole 'boy toy' comment? like what was that?" at that, jj stayed silent for a bit.

"just give her some time, i'm sure she'll realize she's being crazy after all of this sarah stuff blows over." i nodded. the door to the house creaked open, making me jump. out of the door came my little brother, charlie. i crouched down and picked up his tired figure.

"hey charlie, why're you still up?" i asked, slightly bouncing him on my hip.

"i was waiting for you to come home. momma is at work and i need my night-night kisses." he said seriously, pouting. jj smiled softly at this and took charlie from me, holding him up in the air slightly.

"how 'bout i tuck you in while your sister gets ready for bed?" he asked in a slight baby voice. charlie gave jj a tired smile, nodding. my heart melted at the sight; two of the most important boys in my life together. jj carried charlie inside, holding the door open for me with his foot. i followed after the two quietly, not wanting to wake up anyone else in the house.

jj and charlie turned into the first bedroom on the right, while i crept further into the house until i got to my room. after wiping off my makeup and putting my hair up, i made my way back to the boys.

peering into the room, i watched as jj delicately placed the blankets around charlie.

"where are my goodnight kissies??" charlie whined tiredly. jj chuckled before moving some of charlie's hair out of his face and gave him a light kiss on the forehead.

"g'night buddy." he whispered, staying near the boy until his eyes closed and breathing softened. my heart squeezed as i watched the interaction. jj was so soft and loving with charlie and it absolutely melted my heart. i tiptoed in and placed a light kiss on charlie's head. i put his favorite stuffed animal in his arms and, together, jj and i walked out of his room.

i closed the door ever so slowly as to not disturb the sleeping child. when i turned around, jj was there, staring at me. the cocky smirk he usually held was nowhere to be seen. instead, a small smile played at his lips, his soft blue eyes focused on my face. for reasons i tried to repress for many months, i couldn't look at him for more than a couple seconds before fidgeting nervously. jj placed his hand under my chin and lifted it, gently forcing me to hold his stare. when his hand dropped, my eyes remained locked on his, anticipating his next move. however, after a couple moments passed by, jj looked away and scratched at the back of his neck.

"it's been a long day, let's get you to bed."

i let out a light chuckle at that, but followed him to my room regardless. he stood near the edge of my room as i grabbed my pajamas and, as i reach to take off my shirt, he turned around, giving me the privacy that i didn't even ask for. i stopped for a moment to take in the action before continuing to strip and change into comfier clothes. when i finished, jj was still turned around. off of a whim and slight exhaustion, i walked right up behind him and hugged him, burying my face into his back. all the emotions i had buried for the boy in front of me came bubbling up, making me squeeze the boy a bit tighter. he clasped his hands over mine, letting out a deep, content sigh.

"c'mon," he said quietly, shuffling us towards the bed. he crawled in after me, leaving a sizable distance between the two of us.

once settled in, the two of us simply stared up at the ceiling, deep in thought. after a while, i closed me eyes, taking in everything that had happened in the past couple of weeks, including what was happening in that moment.

"it feels like everything is falling apart." i whispered, not opening my eyes.

"yeah, it does," he replied. after a few seconds, there was a rustling besides me. i opened my eyes ever so slightly and turned, seeing jj laying there, giving me a soft smile.

"but we always manage to get through it together." he finished.

"together." i repeated, my eyes getting heavier, the weight of everything pushing down onto my body. and so, the two of us fell asleep, just a couple inches closer than when we first laid down.

[favouritefi]

Original catboy Jopson x dogboy Tozer anon here. I have no idea if or how it could be plausible in Purror & Erebark lore but maybe...?

1. Hickey manipulates Tozer into attempting to seduce Jopson for ??? scheming reasons????

2. Tozer witnesses the fabled Jopson x Hickey dance and feels inadequate because his marines upbringing did not permit for such frivlous training as dancing and idk asks Jopson for dance lessons and then they smooch about it?

3. ???????????????

4. Anyway like you said to other anon I'm also down for Jopson giving Tozer the slap to punish his audacity.

anon if im correct you're a jopson x tozer shipper and im sorry to say there isnt a lot of that in this au bc of the jopzier predominance but they do have some moments together. for example out on the ice jopson was one of the best hunters and initially when crozier ordered that the marines bring jopson they grumbled about it bc no way a fancy shmancy siamese like jopson knows how to hunt like proper dogs do. so tozer paired himself up with jopson to "compensate" for jopsons supposed lack and quickly realized that jopsons a helluva shot and they ended up being the pair that brought back the most meat that day. then when dundy starts brewing his mutiny and planning to abandon the sick tozer objects on the grounds that jopsons one of the sick and hes one of their best hunters. also, because of tozers crush on little, jopsons almost like little's scary older brother that tozer needs to impress to get his blessing to court little. i think tozer might drunkenly kiss jopson on the cheek and jopson would daintily dab it away with a hankie but im not sure jops really has the heart to pursue anyone besides crozier in this au.

marines arent trained to dance but they do dance for fun. sort of like hootenanny style rowdy throwdowns that occasionally feature spontaneous dogpiles / wrestling. no waltzing or ballroom and such (which is what jops and hickey do). tozer, like hickey, sort of sees past all the artifice of upper class cat/dogboy living but, unlike hickey, isn't drawn to it as a fancy shiny thing to obtain for prestige and safety reasons. which makes it all the stranger for him to be part of jfj's (wealthy) household. dundy deffo had to teach him some etiquette and maybe taught him some dancing too, but he'll always prefer a marine dogboy party over a soiree and he'd rather be yelling and clapping and twirling heather around than trying to avoid stepping on dundys feet. i felt the need to clarify this because tozer is probably the only person in the main cast who doesnt actually want this upper class life. he'd be happy doing what blanky's doing: running a bar and making enough to care for the people he loves.

[thewisecheerio]

Elden Ring's Soundtrack

I'm in love with the Elden Ring soundtrack, DLC and base game alike. I think every track does a great job of evoking imagery and feelings of the boss or environment it was designed for.

The post will cover the following soundtracks with more to come in other posts: Divine Beast Dancing Lion The Twin Moon Knight The Lord of Frenzied Flame

Part 2 contains Shaman Village/Elden Ring, The Putrescent Knight, and Messmer, the Impaler: https://www.tumblr.com/thewisecheerio/757701649550704640/elden-rings-soundtrack-part-2

Divine Beast Dancing Lion

The Divine Beast Dancing Lion is first and foremost an incarnation of storms. In its later phase, it deftly swaps between lightning and ice, pummeling the battlefield with frostbite and thunder.

The woodwind you can hear just as the music begins remind me of flurries of snow, zipping about in winter winds. The music's grandeur reminds me of the overpowering force of a blizzard or a hurricane.

Much of the soundtrack is in 3- or 6-counts, but this piece is in rapidly-paced 3-count timing. This is the same structure and tempo used for the Viennese waltz, a dance of frenzied spirals and turns. With the spiral being a sacred shape to the Hornsent, I find the use of music that evokes such a shape highly appropriate. Not just this, but look at how the Divine Beast moves during its breath attacks and just try to tell me that it isn't waltzing (1:38 if the timestamp doesn't take you right to it):

The punctuated bass voices that come in during the Phase 2 music transition at 1:30 bring the booming depths of thunder and lightning.

The pause at 2:37 brings a clarity reminiscent of clouds parting, perhaps as the eye of the storm passes over, only to close back up and bring forth more wind and rain.

The ending of the song is sudden. This is a storm that comes and goes with equal violence—not a gentle summer rain, but ferocious outpouring of the heavens that leaves destruction in its wake.

The Twin Moon Knight

Delicate percussion open this track, evoking a fine mist of starry glintstone sparkling through the air.

Like the Divine Beast Dancing Lion soundtrack, this song is composed in a 3-count, creating a sense of circular movement. But here I think we are bearing witness to the grace and elegance with which Rellana moves instead of a rapid waltz. She dances across the battlefield in a pattern carefully woven from her twirling body and swords.

I like to think that the gentleness of the Phase 2 transition that begins at 2:01 is a moment of contemplation for this highly intelligent Carian royal. In this instant, she dances out of the way to assess her options as she prepares for Phase 2 of the battle.

At 2:13, we are met with a powerful drumroll that signals the ignition of her swords with flame and sorcery. The music becomes more energetic to match her increased aggression.

I like to think that we can hear the dropping of her twin moons in the music at 2:55 with the delicately pealing bells.

The ending of her soundtrack is long, signaled by rolling strings and percussion, finally fading into nothingness. At least for me, this is how the end of her fight felt: not a sudden finale, but a victory slowly earned by chipping away carefully between her long combos. The adrenaline of the fight slowly fades out, just as the soundtrack rolls into a final goodbye.

The Lord of Frenzied Flame

Midra's soundtrack opens with a choral line, evoking a sense of beauty and the celestial. But only 17 seconds into the song, the chorus skews off-key. Something eldritch has entered the chat. The next phrase is rife with discord and cacophony as horrors ooze forth from the shadows.

A horrifying string motif begins at 0:31, but never really finds resolution. The lack of payoff creates a sense of unimaginable horror, a constant building of adrenaline as you wait for an unseen but easily sensed terror to stop chasing and finally catch you. Instead of resolving, it is overtaken by an eerie cello 10 seconds later, reminding you to fear that which is right in front of you—the Lord of Frenzied Flame—as well.

The music begins to respond to its own horrors: at 1:18, shrill strings mimic high-pitched screams of terror. At 1:55, these high-pitched strings decay into a sharp descending phrase, evoking a sense of something cracking or falling apart. Frenzy runs this business; the sane need not apply.

After the Phase 2 transition at 2:55, a violent and cacophonous sound ushers in Midra's Big Flame Explosion. The disruptive Chase Scene violins are back, this time amplified by brass, echoing the fight as Midra closes in on the Tarnished with increased fervor.

A supremely intrusive, distorted violin enters at 3:35 reminding us that something isn't quite right about this onslaught—as if we could forget while being swatted across the battlefield by the Frenzied Flame's chosen. I wonder if this sad, solo violin is meant to represent the crying of Midra's and Nanaya's child as the Inquisitors invaded.

The end of the soundtrack returns to the opening choral line, but this time dominated by tenors. Compared to the onslaught of the rest of the soundtrack, they almost sound peaceful. They echo the quiet that death brings for the long-suffering Midra, who so endured at Nanaya's request. Now, he can rest.

Access the Soundtracks

You can listen to the entire DLC soundtrack here:

You can listen to the entire base game soundtrack here:

[ellsey]

I mean the approved compulsory dance music is kind of terrible all around and is more about matching the required bpm than catching the flavor of the music though lol. Before I tested my coach would make sure I practiced to each one because they all feel a little different/

These days novices down are picking their own music to compete the pattern dance, they could choose one of the Compulsory Standards if they wanted to, but as long as it fits the music reqs theyre allowed to do whatever

so most teams aren't learning dances with music that would suit the original intent or style - like a Paso to Another One Bites the Dust for novices is cute but might not have the Spanish flair the ballroom dancer anon would be looking for

it sounds like a balancing act between keeping kids engaged and honoring the integrity of the sport and its origins in ballroom on ice. but if they don't teach them to really do the dance and not just the patterns when they're young, when are they going to learn it? they're throwing a lot of that out in junior and senior and saying skaters will learn it when they're younger. but it sounds like it's getting watered down at the younger levels too

[raainberry]

Last Waltz

« A last dance refers to the final opportunity for someone to engage in or enjoy an experience before it ends. »

Spy!Yeji x Vigilente!reader

Angst

synopsis - you and yeji’s ambiguous rivalry gets tangled in a last waltz

wordcount - 1.9K

T/W - Violence (?), Blood (mentions), Death (allusion but not really)

A/N - In celebration of Itzy’s latest banger and Yeji’s solo, may I present to you my latest piece of work that i finished half an hour ago but started two weeks ago. I did not mean for it to be as dark but alas, the voices. Too late Enjoy!

You squinted your eyes as you looked through the glass ceiling.

It was hard to focus when your own reflection kept getting in the way, staring back at you within such an obscure silhouette.

You struggled to see past it at times, but the changes you witnessed were necessary. You needed to become someone else to take on such a mission.

Cold blood was the most difficult trait you had to develop, you hated feeling it running through your veins. It’s been years now, and you knew it would never go back to the way once was, back to normal: warm and senseless.

Now it seems as though it could only run in two extremes.

Ice cold, when facing the enemy. Whoever it was, you couldn’t bring yourseld to care. Getting them out of the way is all that matters.

Burning hot was a rare one. Losing your cool was something you forbid to yourself, or else you’d be as good as dead. It only happened twice, and twice you escaped death by what you could only take as pity.

If her tongue held itself back, her eyes made sure to let you know.

She could have easily killed you both times.

Third time’s a charm?

You wondered as you reminisced about Yeji’s figure the last time you’d crossed paths. She seemed so flawless from afar. The way her dress fit her body, an accomplice in the act she put on around all those unlawful citizens…

Both of you had a past, one that lead to very different paths until they became one in this hunt of evil.

The chase brought you together, got you close enough to dance around danger and betrayal for far too long.

As far as you “knew”, she was part of that ring, attached to that man’s arm like candy he waved around to subdue whoever he needed.

You couldn’t blame anyone involved, she was stunning. Strikingly gorgeous in both literal and figurative sense.

She wasn’t your target. She never was, but it seemed as though she decided to be. You always ended up fighting her instead of her boyfriend.

A too powerful ring leader, one that caused harm on a much bigger scale than any criminal should be able to.

You couldn’t help but wonder how she’d landed by his side.

Such talent. Such beauty. It was almost too pure of a stain in the midst of all this filth.

To some extent, it felt wrong to feel bad for her. You certainly regretted it when it caused you to lower your guard the first time. When you let that sweet, tempting smile lure you to the harmful consequences of a brainless heart.

Waking up in need of stitches to several spots on your face didn’t prevent you from lowering it again a second time, weeks ago. She’d become too familiar. You’d gotten too comfortable. The bathroom of an underground Gala would have become the stage to your public execution if it weren’t for the public itself.

“Get in my way again, I’ll take you out of it for good.” You remember hearing.

Her voice was distorted, taken over by the ringing in your ear as the cold tiles beneath kept you conscious.

The sound of her heels against them as she left… It was identical to the one that had followed you into this third meeting.

A once cold and deserted hotel in which heat and chaos had emerged as you made sure to take everything out of your way…

It was obvious there was no one to care for what was within these walls in years.

The curtains danced in the wind welcomed by the missing bay windows as you slowly walked alongside them. Each step offered a new view, new information to take in.

The moon highlighted the dust on the ground, various trash items undoubtedly accumulated by some brave and rowdy teenagers. You made sure not to kick any of it, mindful of your surroundings.

The dim emergency lighting made it difficult to assess them, but you remained focused. Broken chandeliers glimmered, fighting for your attention along with the detailed marble floors.

The design was sophisticated. A perfect, oddly beautiful ambush spot you’d willingly stepped right into.

All because of her.

The air suddenly felt cold on your face, allowing it to breathe after so long in that mask you proudly wore for years now.

It felt good. If only your lungs were allowed the same breath as the skin on your bruised cheeks.

You choked up, feeling a fifth punch landing on your jaw. Not that you kept count, you couldn’t even tell how many of your own fingers if you were to hold some of them up.

That girl could fight. She’d rightfully earned her title in your books, all you cared about at the moment was to make it out alive.

Not because you had to live, rather because you couldn’t give her the pleasure of seeing you surrender to her blows.

That kind of pleasure she only could relish from pride. It made your blood boil.

If you could just get everything to stop spinning… Maybe you could try to bruise that ego of hers.

“I have to say, Y/N, you got me used to better.” You heard her say. Her voice was distorted again. Almost unfamiliar if it weren’t for the echo in your mind. “Get yourself together.”

Her foot found your stomach, making you aware of how low you’d fallen. That last hit had sent you to the ground, and the kick only made you sink further into it.

The marble felt as good as it looked earlier; cold to the touch and so relieving to your burning, wounded skin, but the feeling startled you.

You couldn’t give up. Not against her.

So you listened to her, pushing yourself up to your knees, and sitting back on your heels. You were thankful she allowed it, but wondered what she had in mind.

Her eyes were darker than you remembered. They looked so pretty just a few weeks ago, you couldn’t blame yourself for falling for them.

“So much for not showing me mercy, Yeji.” A broken smile pulled on your lips in an attempt to taunt her.

Months of rivalry. You knew her patience ran as thin as a strand of her own hair.

“The spy I know would have broken my back already.”

The moonlight betrayed her cold features, shedding light on the way your words managed to get to her.

It was for a split second, but you caught that eye twitch. It filled your worn out body with hope. You still had a chance.

“Spy…?” She repeated, out of breath.

You knew this whole time? Or had you figured it out? If so, how? When?

She’s been undercover so many times before. This wasn’t her toughest job, but you sure made it difficult. As if getting in her way wasn’t enough, you’d now just revealed yourself to be a genuine threat to her mission.

In her eyes, it was a permission to kill.

“Get up.” She ordered through her teeth.

The weak chuckle you gave in response only riled her up. She didn’t know what was with you, but something made her want to push not only you but herself as well to your absolute limits.

Some vigilente popping out of nowhere, sabotaging plans she’d spend days on, ruining a reputation she spent years building within her division—she could never let you get away unscathed.

Much less alive now that you’d blown her cover.

Though, if this was the last time she’d fight you, she had to make the fun last.

She reached for the collar of the rough tactical gear you mainly wore to look the part, furrowing her eybrows at the feeling of the fabric.

She hated the sight of it. It was as though you were mocking her silently, replicating and treating her uniform as a mere costume.

Your body suddenly rose closer to her, her pull strong enough to hold it there as she stared right into your eyes.

“Fight me.”

If that last laugh of yours hadn’t used up most of your remaining strength, you’d have done it again.

Was she begging? It sure sounded like it. What you were sure of was she certainly intended for her words to come out as an order.

Unfortunately, her voice betrayed her the same way her eyes had.

“I know you’re doing this on purpose.”

You smiled. She knew you so well.

You’d caught enough of your breath to retaliate, grabbing her waist and leg in order to pull her to the ground.

She barely had time to blink that her back hit the floor, the latter knocking the wind out of her lungs. The bit of air she managed to gasp for was soon trapped when your arm found her throat.

You made sure to look into her eyes as you applied just enough pressure to make her panic. You wanted to see it; her desperation to stay alive.

It showed she was human too, despite seemingly doing her best to hide it for that character of hers.

“All I’m asking for…” You panted, “Is you get out of my way.”

Taking that ring leader down was another job her boss had assigned to her.

You… You’d assigned it to yourself the day his power spread enough to reach your family.

She always got the job done, and she was set on completing this one too, going so far as going undercover and infiltrating the ranks as the leader’s girlfriend.

Unfortunately for her plans, you promised to yourself that man would be ruined beyond one could imagine by your hands.

“I was looking forward to this.” She managed to croak out.

She struggling as much as you were, but her words made you lessen the pressure on her throat as they made you realize something.

So were you.

Your eyes were defiant against hers, yet no pity in sight. The blood felt cold in your veins, despite her ever so provocative smile.

A soft chuckle left your lips in disbelief. You finally managed to overpower her.

Yeji fought to even get a couple breaths in, but she wouldn’t be caught wasting a single second to overthrow her opponent. She exploited that second of vulnerability your own body displayed against your will.

Another blink, and her hands shoved you away from her before her boots launched you back to the ground.

It was a last effort kind of move on her part, although not in the desperate way you might think. She was set on putting an end to this rivalry tonight, and nothing could stop her.

This was the last effort she’d put into this side quest. Her last attempt at getting you out of the way for good. It had to be.

She dragged herself up, making sure to look down at you as she walked to your side, priding herself at how weak she’d rendered you.

The glow in her eyes was entrancing. The longer you looked into them, the more you confused the weak fluorescent light it came from as sympathy.

“I told you to get out of my way…” She taunted from above.

You could only stare at her, following her hypnotizing figure as she lowered a knee to the ground. You would have loved to look at her a little longer before your eyes fluttered shut under her touch.

It was light as a feather. Her fingers were so delicate all of a sudden, it almost erased the blood she’d spilled from your veins.

“Why didn’t you listen?” She whispered.

She could draw a small shape with the amount of it on your face that night.

Maybe it was the fruit of your imagination. A last attempt at hope from your weakened brain as it fought to stay afloat.

You swore you she’d drawn a heart before plunging it under the surface.

[knownangels]

deadly premonition (october prompt)

Maran sidles up to Xavier, who looks frustrated and uncomfortable in the massive throng of partygoers.

He nudges their shoulders together. Before Xavier loosens up, he stiffens full-body. Like a spooked dog, ears straight and tail perked. 

“Relax mate.” Maran raises his voice enough for his best friend to hear, and no one else. “Hey, d’you reckon there’s an iced cream flavor you’d toss over?”

Xavier barks out a startled, incredulous laugh. Several people turn to look at him, so naturally his ears go red. Maran fights a grin, fingertip grip on the ledge of proper, polite.

“What?” Xavier whispers back, somehow also shouting. “Maran. You’re joking.”

“Mine’s Pandyssian Plum, without a doubt.”

Xavier’s mouth does something funny before stretching into a grin. “I hear they don’t even ship those plums in from the continent. They’re just normal Tyvian plums.”

“Well they’d get a hole put in ‘em,” Maran says mildly, expression never faltering from graceful, host-of-the-party noble. 

Xavier bursts into another volley of laughs that peeter off with gasping breaths and a few shy apologies to the surrounding crowd. 

When the circus comes to Dunwall (base and low-brow and dirty and wild in the way that his father hates) every year, Maran sneaks out his third-story window and down to the outskirts docks. It’s at the filthy end of the city, where industrialization lingers in smog and coal pillars half the sky tall. 

But Maran loves it. 

The exotic animals from distant lands always make him sad, of course: even though the ringleader always assures his father when inspections and meetings about land fees and fancy ball fundraisers, Maran knows the truth is far uglier. He’s made friends with the acrobats. 

Years ago, actually, when they were around his age. They’d swap real stories of the life they led; Maran, his. Them, how to fool some of the game masters to actually get a prize; Maran, the pubs that would turn an eye if you looked a bit young. 

One of his favorite games had been this hole-and-mallet style thing. It consisted of violently bludgeoning tentacles of a kraken as they sprouted from the holes of a finely hand carved pirate ship. If you smashed enough of them, the gamemaster would bring out a little ceramic kraken’s eye. They were all handmade, too. His wife had been a clay artist, before they came to the empire; Maran could only imagine how many she made a week. He had a shattered kraken eye, shining keen and pretty on the bedroom mantle. She put an extra layer of pearlescent glaze on it because he asked. 

Sometimes minding Xavier reminded him of that game. Waiting vigilantly for some little anxiety or hint of embarrassment to appear — then smashing as quick as he could. 

Maran cups his elbow to do that now, imagining his hammer as it swings down. I’ve got you, mate. 

“Want to go dance, then?”

Xavier’s cheeks burn. “It’s…kind of improper?” 

Maran blinks at him. 

“We’re not married.” Xavier clarifies. 

“Xavier!” Maran yells, his turn to draw attention. 

It’s briefer than it had been on his friend, though: Maran is familiar and well-known nobility. Xavier has messy clipped hair and the aura of working class, the way his cuticles bend from stress-biting and his trousers have been visibly mended, no matter how no nice they were originally. Not to mention the size of the lad, the mad little gleam in his eye that not everyone is intelligent enough to appreciate. 

Unlike Maran. 

“I cannot believe you think I’d want to —“ he glances around, peeks over his shoulder, leans closer. “Waltz.”

Xavier smiles, but his brows are softly arched. “Well…that’s kind of your only option?” 

It’s what people do at these things, is what Maran means. And he’s right. It’s still just about the only acceptable form of social-event dance, because Dunwall’s utterly shit at adapting. She’ll rot into the sea before she sees change of her own will. 

“Of course it’s not our only option.” Maran dutifully nods and waves and exchanges pleasantries as he pulls Xavier from the ballroom. “There’s a party going on at the little dock, y’know? The one off the back garden. Invite only, a bunch of the employees get together during this annual shitfest.”

A bit more of him comes out now that they’re alone, cool air against skin from the swinging patio doors. They lope down the stairs in a giggling race, and then they’re off towards the far-off fence. The estate’s grounds are sprawling; it takes them time to stumble closer to the sound of revelry and genuine enjoyment of a party. 

I’m going to miss you, Maran thinks. It’s so sudden and strange a thought in that moment, no reason or rhyme to that sort of melancholy. He’s happy, he���s laughing, he loves Xavier to death and they’re about to spend what he hopes is the most memorable night of their lives shit-faced and together. 

Together is what matters. So that’s why: I’m going to miss you. 

It feels like a deadly premonition, a warning, and advice from his mother all at the same time. 

*

Maran can hear them talking out on the roof. One voice sounds as he hears it every day. One sounds like he could only grasp the entirety of it if he swum five leagues below the ocean and pulled it from the depths himself. 

Xavier’s voice warbles strangely. He imagines the sound of it would look a bit like the vortex you get if you swirl wine in the bottle. Maran prefers doing that to wine rather than drinking it. 

But he’s considering the latter now. And very seriously. 

It would be nice if just once he could hear what Xavier says. He gets jack all from Benji’s one half of a conversation. Emotionally constipated little prick.

He could march out and demand why. Of course there was a difference, that link between he and Benji, between he and Maran. No visits, no conversations, no signs on the wind or message in the stars. He tried not to be too sore about that. But it was near impossible. Most days, he figured he could understand what it would feel like to be one of those delicate ceramic eyes. 

Maran squeezes his eyes shut. He takes a deep, lingering breath and pretends it sticks in his lungs like honey. Lets them expand, push out all the empty loneliness. 

It wasn’t right to put the blame on Xavier. He repeats that to himself, gritted teeth slowly unclamping as his jaw loosens. It wasn’t right. Surely it wasn’t easy. 

Maran didn’t know much, but he wasn’t stupid. He pieced what he could together, from what little he knew.

He longed for just one more dance, though. 

Fuck. He’d settle for a waltz. 

[onlymurdersintheafterparty]

Loustat Human AU: Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s Eve

This post was created out of boredom and missing these chaotic vampires so here’s my headcanon of how I think they’d spend some of the holiday seasons if they were human. It’s in bullet points because it’s easier for me than fully writing it out 🤷🏽‍♀️

Thanksgiving 🦃

Florence and Lestat got into an argument during the family dinner so they had to leave early and were disinvited from attending the next one

She made a snide comment about him not using enough salt and he made a witty comeback about her salty attitude

Louis: 🤦🏽‍♂️ Claudia: 🤭 Grace: 😬 Levi: 👀 The twins: 🫣

Claudia’s cousins helped her pack to-go plates and they all laughed the whole time at the messiness of it all

On the ride home while Louis and Lestat were arguing in French over Lestat taking Florence’s bait and “being unnecessarily rude”, Claudia was texting the group chat with her cousins to get the tea on what happened after they left

Later that night while Louis was still pouting about leaving before dessert, Claudia presented him with a slice of sweet potato pie and the drama was briefly forgotten

Christmas 🎄

Every year the neighborhood goes all out with Christmas decorations and it gets really competitive

Which is wild because there’s not even an official contest or prize to be won

Lestat still plans the house’s theme a year in advance though so they won’t get caught slipping. This year it’s the board game Candyland

Louis commissioned some artist friends to create ice sculptures of the iconic characters and Claudia gets slid $20 for spying on the neighbors’ decorations whenever she hangs out with the other teens

Armand and Daniel are spending Christmas in Miami so that’s one major opponent out the way.. until Laszlo breaks out his keyboard one night and starts playing live music for the people driving through. Lestat then brings out his own keyboard and it’s a duel of pianos every night until the HOA president shuts them down because of noise complaints received from them playing way after 10pm

New Year’s Eve 🥂

Every year Louis’s art gallery has a New Year’s Eve gala to end the year and announce goals for the upcoming year.

Claudia usually has no desire to be paraded around old, rich people but decided to attend this time around when she found out her crush Madeleine would be there

Sam was the DJ and played all kinds of hits. From salsa and bachata to line dances and waltzes there was something for everyone to enjoy.

Louis being the uncurious, workaholic that he is was shook to look over and see Claudia and Madeleine dancing together. He wasn’t mad or anything just disappointed at being out of the loop and the last to find out.

Meanwhile the more the drinks flow the more tipsy and drunk the guests become. The tipsier Armand gets the more giggly he gets and with each drink starts to unbutton his shirt a bit more so after a few drinks Daniel calls it a night and takes him home.

Louis’ nemesis Esme showed up despite not being invited and was fashionably late on top of that so it was a true lesson of self restraint. Carmelita and Claudia also have an on sight relationship so Rashid had his hands full trying to keep the peace.

Fortunately this happened before Daniel left and he was able to hint at a potential scandal being revealed if she didn’t turn around and go back home

Minor drama aside the night was magical and they celebrated another year of enduring the chaos in their lives

[intcritus]

 Kaeya had spent a long time, living in the guilt of being a spy, of infiltrating Mondstat, but after all these years, he realizes it’s good to let go. To  live in the moment, have a little fun and never take life too seriously. The Cavalry Captain finds himself smiling, always enamored by Kaveh, even when he’s giving Kaeya the stink eye.

It’s another late night, Sumeru’s back ways and long pathways quiet, sans the occasional twitter from birds and wildlife. No more melons have been stolen, not yet atleast and if his thoughts seem to seep from him, the architect’s pointed look only makes him grin coyly, one hand reaching out to pull the other toward him, arm slipping around his waist to keep him close. 

❝ ━ Come now, Sunshine, you’re gonna make me feel bad. It was only one time,❞  It’d definitely happen again. How else can he convince his stunning companion to relax ? ❝ ━ Archons, I love your eyes. ❞  Free hand cups Kaveh’s cheek, thumb brushing along his bottom lip with an appreciative hum, ❝ ━ Every time you look at me, the color fascinates me. It’s like you’re looking into me, seeing all my secrets. ❞

A chuckle before he leans in to steal a quick kiss, ❝ ━ Thankfully, you’re welcome to all my secrets. I don’t think I’d want to hide anything from you. ❞  Which is a weird admittance for someone who simply didn’t tell anyone anything worth its weight in salt.

They’re secluded now, by the river, ripples in the water from frogs and moonbeams through the leaves giving the water an ethereal glow. It’s pretty but the person in his arms is far prettier, and he hardly wants to take his eyes away.

❝ ━ Let’s do something silly, yeah ? Dance with me. I’ll sing for you. ❞ He keeps his arm around Kaveh, but his free hand captures the blond’s, bringing it to his mouth so the Captain can brush a kiss over knuckles. It’s something he used to do as a kid, dancing while standing on his mother’s feet, waltzing around in the grass.

But he only leads now, keeping Kaveh close, cheek to cheek as they sway in the moonlight, Kaveh’s voice a melodic tenor as he softly sings to Kaveh. It’s only them, the moonlight and the sound of swaying grass as they dance over the blades.

He hadn’t realized what this emotion in his chest is – when he’s with Kaveh, it lingers there, expanding until his smiles are genuine, until he can no longer keep his besotted anywhere but the pretty architect. It feels a lot like warmth, like being frozen, lonely then getting to feel the first rays of sunshine, of the warmth that cradles him: it’s contentment. Soul-deep contentment and Kaveh will never see the dampness of Kaeya’s lashes but he’ll feel how he holds him a little tighter, that his voice mellows out, and the smile against his temple, and for Kaeya, this is worth letting his own walls down. Kaveh, he was so worth it.

in which, even ice needs to melt sometimes. / @avaere