#dancer mastery

[gentlenekomata]

a name for the baby! | Sakura & Azama

After the winter’s tragedy, the arrival of baby wyverns in the stables is welcomed not just with the usual excitement, but with outright tears of joy. With the traumatic memories still fresh in everyone’s mind, everyone is being extra careful with the babies, and intends to ensure they have the best care possible. Will you volunteer your knowledge and services? Or perhaps do you wish to learn from the best? [Grants Flying +1]

starter for @carefreemonk <3

After the events Sakura and Azama have been through, the very first thought in the priestess’ mind to check on the newly little guy at the stables: she managed to make the baby wyvern accepted by the others wyverns and luckily for her, it was introduced a little later from the winter’s tragedy, giving it the time to properly getting acclimatised and to survive the rigid temperature of the wintry season. Sakura actually paid regularly visits to it, in order to make sure everything was alright and the baby wyvern was doing good.

That exact afternoon the petite princess was doing her usual stroll around the stables, already walking towards the wyverns’ stables and ready to give the little creature all the love it deserved: as she turned the corner, a very familiar face popped from behind a wooden window  and Sakura eyes shone as she immediately recognised the standing figure with a stern expression on his face.

“Azama, it’s so nice to see you here!” she quickly greeted him, though being cautious of not making any alarming or sudden sound that would surely scare the animals, “Are you taking care of the little guy?” she questioned, peeking inside the stables just to see it on the ground, searching for food. “Seems very hungry!” she giggled, returning her glance on Azama’s face.

“By the way, we didn’t even give it a proper name!” she put her right hand under her chin, on a perplexed and pensative position. “Do you have any ideas?” she paused for a moment, eyes observing the little wyvern, “To me, it reminds me of a… delicious biscuit!” she kept pondering, until she eventually came up with a very strange name –at least, strange for a wyvern.

“How about Cookie?” she cocked her head, staring at Azama knowing that the chosen name wouldn’t be accepted.

[machiot]

pas seul

“Child, why do you not frolic and dance with the other children?” 

A gaggle of children, making their own fun while their parents pray indoors, roughhouse with each other in the clearing in front of the church. Snow falls gently, creating clumps here and there, but it does little to distract the children from their games. If anything, it only excites them further. Childish voices squeal and giggle as snowflakes dissolve against their chilled skin. Holding hands, they spin in circles fast enough to make even onlookers dizzy. With their hands in one another's hands, they hardly seem to feel the cold at all even though they’ve been shut out from the warm church.

The question spoken by the priest is not directed toward them, though. It’s meant for the young girl sitting on the steps by herself. She is a pretty little thing, with big doll-like eyes and blonde hair that hangs over her shoulders as coiled ringlets. She sits alone at a distance from the other children, kicking her legs back and forth to keep herself warm on a frigid winter morning. Her frock, provided by the priests for the orphan under their charge, is speckled with blood; remnants of some sort of scuffle.

None of it is her own blood, of course. 

The girl jumps to her feet, tucking her freezing hands behind her back. Like a dog waiting for a treat, she looks up with sparkling eyes and barks out a line as if she’d been waiting to say it. 

“I’m not gonna waste my time with those pathetic weaklings, Father!” 

The priest smiles, eyes crinkling. He’d known the answer before he asked the question aloud, but to hear it is always satisfactory. He places his hand gently on the girl’s head and she giggles. Compared to how withdrawn she had been when she first arrived, it’s hard to tell this lively child had ever been anything but animated. Like a lone ballerina on an abandoned music box, she just needed to be taken in and have her crank wound up by someone who knew her value.

“Good girl,” the priest praises, patting the girl’s head. “Lord Sombron will surely reward your devotion once He is returned to us. You need not pay the other children any mind. They do not understand His intentions as well as you do.”

Rather than playing with the other children, the girl is much prettier when she dances alone. Putting her hand in another’s is a waste of her talents, a distraction from what could be. The twirl of an axe, the spray of crimson blood on snow, blonde ringlets bouncing with her steps; all of it is more beautiful when she’s dancing by herself. If someone else needs to be on stage with her, it should only be to wind her back up so that she may go longer. 

Faster. 

More brutal. 

Around and around, again and again until even onlookers are dizzy.

When the music finally stops, the only person whose approval she needs is the person who taught her the steps.

That is the whole reason she’d been asked to stand outside of mass today rather than join in like usual, after all. A reminder to an abandoned little girl that she’s different from all of those children that would return home with their parents after mass ends. When the crowds thin, all that will remain is the clergy and the girl under their care. It is pointless to desire more when everything she needs is right here. The other children will not welcome a rowdy and violent brat into their throngs, but the priests will welcome her with open arms. When her legs shake from the cold and the tips of her fingers begin to turn blue, they’ll open the doors wide and bring her back into the warmth.

“Marni,” the priest says. He puts his hand on her back, escorting her back through the grand doors of the chapel. “It is still early, but come, there is someone who wishes to be introduced to you. Be on your best behavior; she is favored by Lord Sombron. If all goes well, your position will rise significantly.”

The heavy door creaks shut behind the young girl and the priest walking hand in hand, drowning out the sound of children outside collapsing in a pile of giggles and claps.

Class Mastered: Dancer

[bxldrsdraumar]

Would not, could not, would not, could not

dancer mastery; word count - 637

There had always been the vaguest awareness that he was meant to be seen, from the announcement of his birth, the cannonade that had been reported to leave the air thick with magical smoke and the revelry, the tourneys and balls and the murmurs of an heir, did you hear? An heir for Baldr's blood. Just like his great father. 

His steps had been followed, stumbling across the lush carpeted salles, ambling through the gleaming tiled foyers, then sprinting through halls with Chalphy's stewards and retainers just half a step behind until he left them in the dust entirely, pushing through the great entryway and out into the world. 

One-two, one-two, pret-lunge-parry-ripsote, he learned the basic box of the Grannvallian waltz, could do it with his eyes on his partner - focus, boy! - could do it blindfolded, could do it on horseback as well as he could on his own two feet, eventually could move so fast and so precise that a candle held in one hand would not extinguish. 

His instructors at Belhalla could not have been more pleased. An heir for Baldr's blood, just like his great father. 

Even as he moved from slick tiled floors to slick mud sucking at his boots, his steps were perfect, one-two, one-two, rank and file with all of his fellows, his pace quickening by the day to place him at the head of the column, the spotlight of the sun warm on his shoulders and face as he led the lines of men into familiar patterns, familiar steps against familiar partners, familiar horns and drums and banners a call and response rhythm until the night was over and won. 

Eyes on him ever still, his glide across the stage, the predictable flow of his movements mirroring generations before, the common refrain that Baldr boy a man now, that son of Chalphy followed him wherever he may have gone. 

But what a shame, what a shame there's no pretty partner on his arm. 

He'd never had need of one, in truth, had never yearned in the same way that so many others had, in the way his great father had for as long as he could remember, the heart aching and calling for its missing piece, whose mirrored steps made for the complete picture the audience wanted to see. 

Deirdre did not complete him, but she filled him in a way that was almost the same, and he found his steps lighter as though the eyes on him had not suddenly turned quite heavier, as though the eyes had not suddenly turned to her and placed her in the spotlight beside this heir to Baldr's blood. 

He recalled, occasionally, a moment where he and his sister had peered around the corner, their mother's dressing room where under the hot lights the mother of Chalphy, the wife of Baldr's blood, had covered the weakness in her failing heart with layers of makeup, the strength of her smile carrying her soft steps as she put on show after show, of light, of strength, of courage. 

The virtues of Chalphy, just not her blood. 

Deirdre did not know the steps, did not know what was expected of her when he had whisked her into the spotlight, but it was fine – he was Baldr's heir and he knew these steps by heart, could do them on horseback as well as his own two feet, could do them blindfolded, could take her in his arms and lift her to floating above the stage until she moved in tandem with him in the bright of the sun for all to see. 

And when Seliph had been announced, it was with magical cannonade, the air think with smoke and revelry and expectation, whispers of did you hear? An heir for Baldr's blood. 

Just like his great father. 

[allegreta]

galdr of remembrance (dancer mastery drabble, 453 words)

Anniversaries, celebrated upon the year, are of less consequence to laguz than beorc. Years in and of themselves, while recognized, happen in far greater number to a laguz than a beorc, and thus are less significant.

When one follows the seasons as all living things do, though, times of year get associated with certain things. And the nightmares of fire and smoke and screams signify to Leanne that around now is the time of the Serenes Massacre, some twenty-six years ago. It is something she lives with, a scar that has closed and been soothed but aches from time to time, as is the nature of such a trauma.

She is no longer in Serenes to commemorate this as she has each year since she awoken from her slumber, but the woods by the monastery will do. The same moon shines upon them.

In the dead of night, she takes flight, quickly alighting as she reaches the forest grounds. The half moon flickers, nary a cloud in sight, and the chorus of crickets and owls welcomes her.

Slowly, quietly she joins them, her voice a low tone adjacent to sorrow. But not quite. It is melancholy, it carries sadness, but there is a life to it as well, a bittersweetness, as one might say.

The forest has gone silent, but slowly begins to raise its voice again--some in tune with Leanne. It is a mournful song, a remembering song, a song to honor the dead and grant strength to the living. Though the galdr is sung in ancient, its message is in a language universal.

It is about white wings raised in play and the crooning of loving parents. It spans arguments, festivals, and poetry in equal measure. Thousands of wings, thousands of beautiful minds and caring hearts are honored here, released into the wind with each breath. There is space for anger, space for the acrid smoke on the wind and the smell of charred feathers, blood in one's mouth and indignity at the senselessness of the world. But first and foremost, this is a galdr of remembrance.

Leanne carries this energy in her heart, releases it to the forest, to the spirits of those long passed. With the power of galdr, imparted upon her by the very people she honors in this night, she can bring joy and peace--and if it is necessary, utilize it in battle to protect those dear to her. This she promises to those who have gone before her, lost to time or tragedy. It will not end here. It will not end here. We will love and laugh and celebrate your lives, tell stories to our children and our children's children. It will not end here.

[knighteclipsed]

until your eyes are closed.

a drabble: for valter’s dancer mastery. word count: 767 words

Place your hand in its—no, don’t shy away, it is safe to you. Though it is harsh and unyielding to so many around you, you will find no harm will befall you. It is safe. It is safe. Allow it to guide you as you stand, as you walk. One step, then another. You can begin to run now.

Run like the wind does, invigorating your senses and your breath. Walk at your heart’s pace, every beat the tempo to your rhythm. Stand unbending, unbreaking in the face of it all. You have learned to move, to live, to love?

Perhaps not that last one—not that it ever mattered. They say dancing is a communal thing; a thing that is with or for others. You are wiser than that—let it show you to dance: to guide your footsteps, your hands, your weight. One step, then another, until it is all one fluid motion. You have learned to dance now—alone. It suits you.

And what about props? They are not uncommon. If you must dance alone, you may stylize it as you wish. Weapons, though unconventional, work wonders for the task—you have heard of a sword dance, haven’t you? Why not fashion your own with a lance?

Twist like the wind does. (Mind your breathing and keep it steady.) Step at your heart’s pace. (The tempo is even, just follow along.) Pose at appropriate intervals. (This is all a show, after all.) Let your weapon be an extension of yourself and use it to protect yourself, keep your distance from them.

It is by your side, after all—Death, that old friend of yours. Taking your hand and guiding your every step. It is harsh and unyielding, even cruel—to those around you. You are safe from it, so long as you continue to learn.

Death is not a kind teacher, you know. You may suffer one mistake—and it is fatal; you are through. Some lessons are easier to be learned: how to stand, walk, run. Others, you must witness—you must learn from the mistakes of those before you.

Death is not a kind teacher, but it teaches you all the same.  (Twist, step, pose.)

And at last, it releases your hand—you have learned much now, what with your dances. You have learned from Death and so, too, do you now emulate it. It focuses in your eyes, lights dancing in them like upon the tip of a lance. Death is your teacher, and you are its disciple. Were, now you suppose. You are left to fend on your own.

When again you cross paths, that familiar face has not changed—but yours has, worn by years of isolation and contempt. One lesson you learned, however, was to keep fighting for your survival—even against unfavorable odds. Perhaps you were no longer wanted, but if your will died, so, too, would you with it. Step, step—into the next chapter. Tighten your hands ‘till they are naught more than fists.

You see its silhouette again in the eyes of those that you fell: soldiers and knights, common blood and noble. Its tokens are taken gracefully, with all the skill and elegance of an artisan’s dance. You do not face it head-on just yet, however—you only see its traces. (You are untouchable, after all.)

Your final reunion comes upon sandy dunes—the sand is unstable and unfavorable to dancers. Death is a master and is not impeded—it has had much time to learn. You are but a human, and you do not have that same wisdom. You fight for your survival all the same.

Run like the wind does until you are out of breath. Walk at your heart’s pace through the motions—you are growing slower. Stand, if that is possible, but you have grown weary from your dancing. You never quite learned how to take a break, did you?

You may learn that now, first-hand, from an old friend. Place your hand in its—no, don’t shy away. It is futile all the same. (It is harsh and unyielding and would never have spared you.) Allow it to guide you to the after.

One step, another—until your eyes are closed. You do not hear your footsteps, your heartbeat, your breath.

…And then its hand slips away, and you are in a place unfamiliar—to begin the dance anew. Death was not a kind instructor, but it did not lack its own sense of humor. Though it took with it much of what you recalled of dancing, it was not as if you could not relearn it. You can begin to run now, if you so choose.

[freedomarrow]

The Way of You [Dancer drabble]

Do you remember the steps of this dance, Leonardo? Father’s calm voice asks. It has been so long since you last practiced, why don’t you show me what you can do?

I don’t like this dance, father, you say. It feels stifling, it feels crushing, it feels not like who I am.

But you must, my son, he says. This dance is a way of life, a way of fate, a way of you. We have another ball tomorrow, you must look the part, for the sake of the family, the line, the house. You will take the young lady’s hand, give a smile most charming, and remember:

Remember the correct steps: left, then turn, then bow, return.

Remember to join hands, gentle, warm, in gloves perfectly white.

Remember to turn right, then left, flow with the music, the noble lady in your arms.

So you do your best, but it feels wrong. You do it right, but it feels wrong. The steps are stiff, the hands are cold, the smile soon dies behind a frown. This is difficult, father, you say. Can we please take a break, at least for a little while? I will master it soon, I promise, I know this to be my role, my sworn mission to which I was born.

(Whether I want it or not, you think to yourself, for you shudder at the very thought of leading the house one day, but you are but a simple slave to your destiny, so privileged, and yet chained in this dance you did not desire to perform at all;)

But your father smiles and pats your back gently. Of course, my dearest son, you can take a break. This dance is a way of life, and there is time for a pause - but there is more to this role you have, and you must fill the momentary silence with another tune:

A tune of shouted orders, whistling of arrows, clanging of swords, hard boots marching against the concrete. A nobleman you are, and you have your duty, as a soldier, a warrior, a knight who will give his life for this land. Rhham-ta-ta-ta-tam-tam, rhham-ta-ta-ta-tam-tam, one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four! For Daein, for glory, for might, for your king; for a better world, a world without the inferior race!

Rhham-ta-ta-ta-tam-tam, rhham-ta-ta-ta-tam-tam,

Father’s voice grows silent, why did he stop speaking. You don’t know the next steps, why is he not here to guide you anymore? Father, where are you, I’m lost, please help me. But he does not return; instead a new voice joins the song, a new pair of hands joins the dance, an unwelcome one, an unfriendly one, it hurts as they grab you, tug and pull, throw you to the ground amidst the crying, the shouting, the mocking, the laughing. Did you think that you did well, that it mattered?

It does not matter, nothing you do matters, what matters is that you remember -

Remember the correct steps (to the prison camp),

Remember to join hands (then break away and run),

Remember to turn right, then left (between those trees, they won’t find you there),

.

.

.

Father, I don’t know the rest of the steps, you never taught them to me.

That’s okay son, those are steps that I cannot possibly teach you. Those you must learn from the broken, the abandoned, the dispossessed.

They will take your hands and smile through tears, and you will do the same.

And you will dance through the streets, the fests, days and nights; across the plains and battlefields, you will dance through the way of your life,

and perhaps, one day, it will all be worth it in the end.

[goldoanheart]

Dance of the Evanescent

Dancer Mastery Drabble!

Kurthnaga was never much of a dancer, always lingering off to the side during galas and balls, never quite one to join in the action. Always content to watch from the sidelines, never to join in.

He knew his waltzes, of course, he was a member of Goldoa’s royal family. Those around him had made sure he knew the dances by heart, even if he were to never use them. His sister had danced with him, Almedha’s gentle hands, so much tinier then, reaching over his own that had yet been untouched by time. And when Rajaion had time, he had danced with his elder brother too. Though, his brother had always taken a bit more convincing than his dear older sister. But he had always crumbled eventually, not wanting to disappoint his little brother.

He had danced with Ena, as close in age as they were, learning the dances around the same time, just kids stumbling around and tripping over each other’s toes. And when they had become older, she was one of the few he would drift towards during a gala, always by her side to offer a dance if they both still lingered to the side. Most of the time, though, he had been more than content to just let her dance with Rajaion, watching from the side as they waltzed through each other’s hearts.

He had coaxed Gareth into dancing with him once, when he was still young enough to convince people without having to offer extensive reasoning. To this day, he still wasn’t sure if the older man had agreed to it out of the goodness of his heart, or simply out of a loyalty to his family. Either way, they had danced, messy and energetic, following no particular rhythm. And Kurthanaga, as young as he had been, had been content with that. Content to let loose from his royal constraints every once in a while, and dance as any other kid would have.

The one person he had always wanted to share a waltz with, just to feel closer to him for a moment, had been even more reserved at galas than Kurthnaga had been, even though he had been Goldoa’s king, the one hosting them to begin with. He had never gotten the chance to dance with his father, not formally. Though, there had been one instance, many, many years ago, one time that Kurthnaga barely remembered, hardly old enough to stand on his own, just barely beginning to learn his waltzes under the instruction of a much harsher tutor than the one who had properly taught him later. His father had taken Kurthnaga’s tiny hands into his own rough and aged ones, and they had danced, without another soul around. No one had known, other than the two of them, and they had never spoken of it again. Even if Kurthnaga had wished that they had, his father remained distant and shut off. Perhaps if he had lived after the tower, they could have had another chance, to speak, and to dance one more time.

And now, at the academy, it is harder to remain reserved. Surrounded by so many people he can now call friends, he cannot bear to watch from the side anymore, desperate to join in on the fun in a way that he never had wanted to before. It is a different feeling, than the uptight royal waltzes he had learned as a kid, much more freeing. He is freed from his duties of being a royal, much in the same way that Goldoa has begun to be freed from its walls.

And he dances. Until he is so tired he can’t anymore.

Freedom.

[mmoneystones]

Citrinne B.(rodia) Goode

A young blonde struggles for a moment to open the heavy, metal doors of her castle's ballroom. But her resolve wins over the struggle over weight in the end, and the doors yield. She is able to enter, where two figures meet her on the other side of the wide room.

One of them, her dance professor, that she grew very used to seeing. The other, however, is a sight that she likewise knows yet finds great joy in seeing here. It is her older brother, the eldest one in particular. He has taken time off his precious schedule of representing their family on the battlefield to bless his precious younger sibling!

"Today's lesson will be a review on group ballet. I presume you have no issue with the predetermined partner?"

"None at all, Instructor!" she practically gleams at the opportunity ahead of her. It is so rare for her to have a chance to dance with her close family, let alone her brothers.

The professor has fronted this as a simple lesson, but the noble knows better. She will present her dance with no less effort than as if this was a test. She will ensure her knowledge is on full display for the entire showing. Starting with...

Rule One of a good dance: Introduce yourself.

The partner has decided to dance with you, you and no one else. 

The dance has not even begun, yet Citrinne is well aware that proper ball etiquette begins now.

"How do you do? I'm Citrinne...but you already knew that, didn't you brother?" Citrinne lets out a soft, practiced laugh as she holds out a hand. "Shall we dance?"

He opens his mouth to say some words and connects himself to her with one hand. She is pulled in as his other arm wraps around her shoulders. Good, that settles the formalities. Now for the real part.

Rule Two: Follow their lead.

The dance is yours to give as much as they give it to you. 

It is expected of the man to control their movements, but that does not mean Citrinne walks along idly.

When her brother steps, she steps alongside him. When he stops, she stops right next to him. When he intends to dip, she lowers her body as well.

All of these movements are too simple, Citrinne pouts to herself. He isn't going easy on her because of her age, is she? She has been practicing these moves for many months now, and she will do the same for many years afterwards.

It was time for her to be their guide. The child uses her free arm to lightly tap her brother's side. He only nods, the siblings not needing words to know what she wants next.

Rule Three: Share the dance.

The galas are for more than you and them. 

A teenage blonde is released by one brother, twirling down a straight line. She is then caught by another brother, this one being the younger of the two.

His dance maneuvers are not as polished as her previous partner, his footsteps being the slightest bit slower. But this is acceptable, great even. It is expected for Citrinne to adapt to any type of dancer on the ballroom floor.

And of course, there is no better excuse than now for her to take the lead.

Citrinne's grip tightens to her brother, demanding him to follow wherever she desires. Experience shines through as an awkward strut becomes a prideful march. Proper space is ensured before making proud leaps. Her free hand extends outward to put emphasis on their twirls.

She looks into her brother's eyes. They share a similar shade of red to her own. Even with a deeper hue, the shine within them proves that he is enjoying himself.

Everything is going so well...are there any steps that she is forgetting?

Rule Four: Express your enjoyment.

Enjoyment? I'm...I'm happy, am I not?

Citrinne recalls the lesson perfectly in her mind, but directs it at herself this time. While she has laughed, cooperated, and moved for the duration of this dance, she can feel her expression remain the same. That same, neutral stare.

She has never forced her lips to curl upwards. It feels unnatural, even if she feels content on the inside. Her brothers tell her that look suits her, but they are always smiling during their dances.

Citrinne looks down at her middle brother's happy expression. She wants so hard to mirror that look, to hold the same grin that her other dance partners have shown her in the past. But no matter the amount of balls she attends, the lessons she takes, Citrinne's face remains the same.

Her brothers said that she is fine the way she is. But...is that true? Are they happy to dance with a bored sister? An emotionless mannequin?

...Citrinne taps his side twice more. She wants to spin again.

Rule Five: Take the dance with you.

The dance floor is your battlefield. Only you can choose to initiate the fight.

An adult blonde lets go of an invisible brother's grip, twirling off by herself within an empty knight's longue. She is alone, yet satisfied enough to go through the routine by her lonesome.

Citrinne's spins shine with the grace of diamonds. Her eyes hold the fiery determination of rubies. She jumps to the rhythm of glistening emeralds.

No one is around to admire her waltzes, but that is okay. She is only practicing the same moves she has pulled off years prior, so that she is ready for the chance to show them off at parties once more.

To be honest, Citrinne holds little specific memory from most of her ballroom dancing lessons. The instructor always pushed her hard, but she held excellent rankings so often that every test is now a blur. That does not mean that she holds no nostalgia from those times, far from it.

She still struggles to smile even while dancing, her greatest place of comfort. Citrinne does not mind anymore, as seeing the smiles of her own partner is enough for her. Dance is her field of expertise, and she will always be happy to share it. That is all she needs to express her enjoyment.

[beholdenning]

activity check // december 2023

status: passed

skill points acquired: 2 (1 reason, 1 monthly) total skill points: 14 -> 16 skill point allocation: sword d (2) -> sword d+ (3) reason e (0) -> reason e+ (1)

accessed: n/a mastery: pending.

completed threads: n/a dropped threads: ✦ threads not yet allocated to mastery: 9

[heartlilith]

Astrology Observations

Here are some of my observations and opinions on various placements - Part 5

🖤Pay attention to the degrees in your natal chart, as they influence the energy projected by a specific planet/placement. Here are some quick notes:

0° - Marks a fresh energy, beginnings, a lot of things to learn, growing into this placement, can make this placement more naive/immature.

1°/ 13° / 25°- Aries/Mars energy - Makes a placement more aggressive/brave, extroverted, and quick. Brings more of a leadership energy to the placement.

2° / 14° / 26° - Taurus/Venus energy - Can make a placement more polite, grounded, sensual, and down to Earth. This degree can also signify wealth. Makes a placement more appealing and agreeable.

3° / 15° / 27°- Gemini/Mercury energy - Placements with these degrees can be more curious, detached, less grounded, more talkative. These degrees can also signify high intellect or a duality.

4° / 16° / 28° - Cancer/Moon energy - Can make a placement more soft, adds feminine energy or placement could be highly influenced by feminine energy (MC in 4° can signify working with women or women having a big impact on your career for example), can make a placement more emotional.

5° / 17° - Leo/Sun energy - The fame degree! Makes a placement more recognizable, popular, self-centered. These degrees also add creativity, boldness, and confidence to a placement.

6° / 18° - Virgo/Mercury energy - Adds more logic/analytical energy to a placement, adds wisdom and nervous energy, makes a placement more "neat" and confined.

7° / 19° - Libra/Venus energy - Emphasizes the beauty of a placement, politeness, creativity. Can make a placement more apt to romanticize (ASC - how you see the world, Venus - how you see love, Mars - liking romantic sex more than casual sex)

8° / 20° - Scorpio/Pluto energy - Signifies a lot of transformations for a specific placement, a lot of breaking and healing in the area of this degree. Can add obsessiveness/powerfulness/mystery/depth to a placement.

9° / 21° - Sagittarius/Jupiter energy - Adds a more "happy go lucky" vibe, more free flowing, popularity, brings luck and wisdom. Jupiter is expansions it could also expand whatever placement you have this degree in (Mars - more physical energy, Sun - more egotistical, 5th house - more children, creativity).

10° / 22° - Capricorn/Saturn energy - Can slow down a placement (Venus - won't be in a relationship until later in life, Mercury - might talk in a slower pace). Brings lessons and trials to the area of this degree, maturity, ambition, seriousness.

11° / 23° - Aquarius/Uranus energy - Brings something unique to a placement, gives a placement some shock factor and flare. Can make a placement more easy going and inclusive.

12° / 24° - Pisces/Neptune energy - Makes a placement more delulu (lol). Higher octave of Venus so it adds to the beauty of a placement (Sun - adds beauty to your energy, Mercury - adds beauty to your writing/speaking abilities, Mars - adds beauty to the way you physically move (like a dancer)).

29° - Can add mastery, maturity, karmic lessons to a placement. Can signify something that is ending, lessons learned, an almost finished book.

🖤There's so much more I could say about degrees and degree theory but that would take me all day. Here is a link that goes more in depth: 360 Symbolic Degrees

🖤Jupiter is the planet of luck and expansion, therefore looking at the sign and house that Jupiter is in can signify how to lean into that luck. Sign = how, house = where. For example, I have Jupiter in Gemini in the 5th house: using my writing/speaking/communication abilities (Gemini) can help me earn luck especially if it has to do with creativity, children, and romance (5th house).

🖤The sign Mercury is in can have an impact on your learning style. Water: Reading/Writing, Fire: Auditory, Air: Kinesthetic, Earth: Visual... (this is strictly opinion based)

🖤When I look at someone's chart that I'm interested in romantically, I like to make a Venn-Diagram in my head with their Venus and Mars signs (this is the most Virgo Moon shit I've ever written). For example, Sagittarius Venus + Capricorn Mars = Detached, money-minded/materalistic, likes to take things slow, hates possessiveness and feeling "anchored".

🖤THANK YOU FOR 1,000 FOLLOWERS🖤

Masterlist

[cerastes]

If Arknights ever managed to land the fabled FromSoft collab somehow, we could get some pretty good alt skins for characters, I think! Such as:

Mudrock -> Havel the Rock skin, complete with Dragon Tooth for extra heavy bonking.

Hellagur -> The Owl skin, they are both Old Men With Massive Odachi, it writes itself.

Kirin R Yato -> Lady Butterfly skin, and also it'd be hilarious to grab what's basically an outfit crossover character and give it another outfit altogether.

Specter/Laurentina -> Valtr, Master of the League skin, to bring things back full circle since Specter is literally a reference to Valtr in the first place.

Gladiia -> Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower skin, same as Specter.

Gravel -> Dancer of the Boreal Valley skin, because you know she'd rock that outfit and the dual blades.

Kirin R Yato -> Skeleton Wheel skin, for that S3.

Reed the Flame Shadow -> Firekeeper skin. But this Firekeeper keeps the fire in people's burning corpses.

Ch'en -> Gaping Dragon skin. Self-explanatory.

Ifrit -> Ceaseless Discharge skin, but it's hilariously shoddily made and it looks cute, clearly made by Ifrit with her own hands and some duct tape.

Kazemaru -> Flexile Sentry skin, the puppet is literally her just turning around and letting her "other body" face to the front.

Typhon -> Starscourge Radahn skin, what with the greatbow mastery and techniques such as shooting multiple greatarrows at once and shooting a rain of pinpoint orbital greatarrows on enemies.

Rosa -> Greatbow Silver Knight skin. You know exactly which one. That one. Yeah.

Gummy -> Aldritch, Devourer of Gods skin. Self-explanatory.

FrostNova -> Ashen One skin. Self-explanatory.

Amiya -> Solaire of Astora skin. Because she's our friend and gives us hope! But watch out. On S3 activation, she gets the Sunlight Parasite.

W -> Unbreakable Patches skin. Because you know she'd rock that leather armor and have fun kicking people right into loot.

Ling -> Rom the Vacuous Spider skin, but also adorably shitty. Ifrit made it with spare materials, including little spiderling fits for Ling's dragons. She finds it funny and cute so she wears it.

[mya-valentine]

Headcanon: Alhaitham x Dancer S/O

Alhaitham is deeply drawn to the grace and precision of his S/O's dancing, even if he doesn't express it verbally. As someone who values intellect and logic, he initially sees dance as an art form that lacks the depth of knowledge he enjoys. However, over time, he begins to see the mastery in their movements, appreciating how every step, turn, and gesture is a calculated expression of emotion and skill.

His S/O's performances bring a sense of tranquility and fascination to his usually book-filled world. Though Alhaitham isn't one for public displays of affection, he often watches their rehearsals from a distance, using the excuse of “just passing by” or “needing some fresh air.” In reality, he finds their presence and movements captivating, almost like a beautiful puzzle that he can’t stop analyzing.

In private, Alhaitham would share his thoughts on the technical aspects of their performances, pointing out details that others might not notice, like how their movements could mirror the flow of ancient texts or how certain dances resemble patterns in nature. He enjoys having philosophical conversations with his S/O about the intersection of art and intellect, making their relationship one of mutual admiration and respect.

Alhaitham may not be a dancer himself, but he quietly supports his S/O in practical ways—whether it’s helping them research traditional dance forms from ancient Sumeru texts or providing them with custom-designed footwear suited to their needs. His gestures are thoughtful and subtle, showing his care in ways that matter most to them.

When his S/O is performing, Alhaitham stands at the edge of the crowd, watching with a calm and composed expression. But anyone who knows him well can see the slight softening of his gaze—a rare sign of how much he cherishes their talent and the beauty they bring into his world.

After particularly intense performances, Alhaitham might offer quiet praise, simply saying, “That was well-executed,” but the understated warmth in his voice speaks volumes. His S/O knows that beneath his reserved demeanor, he deeply admires their artistry, making their bond all the more special.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[ironstrange1991]

Just As Good As I knew It Would Be

Pairing: Defender!Strange x SexWorker!Reader

Synopsis: It was supposed to be just another night with a new client, but Defender Strange was unlike any other and he definitely had other plans.

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: Descriptions of sex work, one or two use of the word 'whore', hickeys and lovebites, oral sex with male and female receiving, protected p n v sex.

A/N: This was planned to be a one shot, but I can easily see this story continuing, so it's up to you guys. Also, I was literary falling asleep over my laptop when I posted this so any typos or grammar errors I will fix tomorrow.

When the weight of his body left you and rolled to the side on the bed, you sighed in relief and also turned to the side, taking a cigarette from the package on the bedside table, lighting it and taking a long drag. It was still one o'clock in the morning and you had a client scheduled for 2:30 and before that you needed a long shower to get rid of all the sweat stuck to your skin.

He was a nice guy, plenty of money to spend since he paid for an hour with you almost every week. He was lonely and with the sweat problem you could understand why. You just couldn't remember his name. Andrew? No, Andrew was the one from last night. Nice guy, a little clingy but nice. Would it then be William? Fuck, it didn't matter anyway, you never called them by their names for that very reason.

Madam Elise always said that there was no other way to permanently lose a client than to call them by the wrong name. It's easier to call them all by the same pet name, she always says, and that's what you do. They were all Baby, for you. And they liked it very much.

"I would like you to stay the night with me." He murmured stroking your arm. "I like to think I'm more than just a client to you."

And didn't all of them like to think that way? You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes and took another drag from your cigarette.

"You're too good for this job. I can give you the stability you need..."

"Okay, baby, let's get one thing straight once and for all." You interrupted him, putting out your cigarette in the ashtray and getting up. "I'm not interested in a relationship. Certainly not with one of my clients. And I don't need a man to save me from the life I live because, surprise! I like this life.”

He remained silent, watching as you got dressed and when you finished putting on your shoes he stood up, took out his wallet and took out a few hundred bills.

"Baby, I don't deal with money. I thought you had paid at the club."

He nodded "I did. This is extra."

You smirked, taking the money and putting it inside your bag. "You spoil me."

He smiled. "You deserve it, Y/n. When will we see each other again?"

"Madam Elise takes care of my schedule. But from what I know, it's full until next weekend."

He seemed extremely disappointed.

"But I'm sure she can fit you in some night for an extra fee."

"Money is not a problem." He stated cupping your cheek and threatening to kiss you, but you were quick to pull away from him.

"Then I'll see you next week. Take care."

"My driver will take you back to the club." He informed.

"Thanks, baby. Have a good night."

...

Madam Elise was busy taking care of the Absinthe's accounting after the doors closed. It was already past 3am and the girls were leaving. The night had been very profitable, everything had gone normally, without any mishaps and the girls seemed happy.

Throughout her life, Madam Elise worked at night and with her own effort founded the Absinthe Nightclub, which today has the status of the largest and most renowned nightclub in New York City. No less than 25 girls, 12 dancers, 3 singers, and an entire band worked for her, not counting the waiters, bartenders, security guards, secretaries, suppliers and everything else. It was a big business that she commanded with mastery and love.

However, that night, she was tired and could hardly wait to finally leave the place and go home. She was closing the register when Aline, her personal secretary who helps her take care of the girls' schedules, came to her excitedly.

"You won't believe who called asking for Y/n."

"Whoever it is, her schedule is full until the end of next week." Madam Elise answered nonchalantly, but Aline didn't seem any less excited and handed over a sheet of paper with a name and telephone number written on it.

"That's what I told him, but he didn't seem to mind waiting. He asked us to come back with an all-night date."

"A whole night?" Madam Elise asked surprised. "Does he know her price?"

"He mentioned that money is not a problem." Aline responded, smiling as if just talking to the man had already turned her his biggest fan.

"Why Y/n? Did he ask for her specifically or did you recommend her?"

Aline shook her head "He asked for her and only her. It must have been someone else’s recommendation."

"I highly doubt it." That was all Madam Elise responded to Aline's speculation. "Call him tomorrow, schedule him for the night."

Aline looked at her as if she had said the most absurd thing. "Should I reschedule everyone else? They won't be happy."

"No, but they will accept it. Y/n has already captivated them for life. Now a new client like this one..." She stared at the name scribbled on the sheet of paper. "This is a customer we still need to captivate."

Aline nodded, but continued standing there as if she wanted to ask or say something.

"What is it?" Madam Elise asked impatiently.

"Does madam think he will come here?"

"Don't be silly, of course not. A man like him has an image to maintain. She will go to him."

...

When you woke up the next day, the sun was coming in from behind the gaps in the heavy curtains in your room and it was already past 2PM. The routine of sleeping when it was almost dawn and waking up in the middle of the afternoon was the least rewarding part of the job, but it was something you had to get used to.

You had a very chaotic routine, but you couldn't think of another way to live. Your work has provided you with a beautiful apartment and all the luxury you could have dreamed of, and most importantly, freedom.

You didn't depend on anyone but yourself and contrary to what many might think, you didn't feel used. In fact most of the time you felt like a pop star, with men lining up to have a special appointment with you.

After taking a shower and spending a long time on skin care, you went down to have breakfast - which was actually always afternoon coffee - and took the opportunity to take a look at your schedule. There were two new customers you were excited to meet. One of them was a jazz singer, the other was a politician. A deputy, if you weren't mistaken.

"More coffee, ma'am?" Karen, your maid asked gently.

"Yes please."

Karen had been working for you for a little over a year. It was actually Madam Elise's idea for you to have someone to take care of the house and you, but you suspected that Karen also did a second job: spying on you for her. You would be eternally grateful for everything Madam Elise did for you, but sometimes the woman was too controlling and a little scary. Not that you cared, it wasn't like you had anything to hide.

"Karen, remind me again how you met Madame Elise." You asked, still looking through the names on your cell phone’s notepad and taking a bite of your toast.

"It's been so long, dear, I don't even remember exactly, but I think it was a few years a go when I worked at the nightclub" The old woman responded evasively.

"Hmm" You were sure the last time you asked she said they met each other at a job interview and not once she mentioned she worked at the Absinthe.

"Oh, I almost forgot it! Madam Elise called and asked you to call back as soon as you woke up. She said there were changes in your schedule for the night."

"No, come on! I was looking forward to meeting the deputy." You murmured, finishing your coffee and already calling her.

When you arrived at the Absinthe to get ready, it was already past 6PM and you still didn't know who the special client was that made Madam Elise cancel and reschedule everyone else. She refused to speak on the phone and emphasized that you should spend some extra time taking care of yourself because this client deserved the best.

So you took a bubble bath with some special bath salts, were extra careful with your skin care, using your best oils and creams. Your hair, which you had decided to leave loose and straight, you ended up wrapping in curlers and clips so that you could finish it when you arrived at the nightclub, as well as your makeup, which Madam Elise made a point of saying on the phone that she would do herself.

"I don't know why so much suspense." You said as she finished preparing your skin with foundation.

"You'll understand when you get there." She answered.

"How about this one?" Sofia, one of the new girls who worked with you asked, holding a hanger with a very short strapless red dress.

"No. Too much." Madam Elise replied.

"How about this other one?" Sofia asked showing off a long black dress with an extravagant slit.

"Too much, Sofia. What part of elegant and discreet don't you understand?" Madam Elise responded sharply.

"It would help if you say who the client is." Sofia complained.

"That's what I'm trying to find out." You said taking advantage of Sofia's complaint. "Oh, I got it, He is a rockstar, isn’t he? Don't tell me it's Bono!"

Sofia stared at Madam Elise, waiting for an answer.

“It's not Bono. And he's not a rockstar. He's better than that."

"How about this one?" Sofia showed off a rose midi dress that looked like something Kate Middleton would wear to one of her official events.

"Perfect!" Madame Elise exclaimed, finishing applying the third layer of mascara to your eyelashes.

"Please don't say it's the president. He's too old." You whimpered.

"Don't be silly, Y/n." That's all she replied.

"Older men make the best clients." Sofia reflected as she hung the dress on the chair next to you. "They are kind and don't usually last long. Not to mention they pay extras."

"Girl, You're learning fast!" You praised.

"Learning from the best." Sofia said giving you a wink and you two giggled.

"Perfect. Now let's let this hair down." Madam Elise said as she took the clips out of your hair and used a comb to straighten your curls. She finished with a setting spray and only then let you look in the mirror. The whole thing seemed too much to you, but you didnt say anything.

"Now finish getting dressed. A car is waiting for you outside. The driver knows where to drop you off."

"Yes ma'am."

Surprising you, Madam Elise leaned over and gave you a small kiss on the cheek in a rare display of affection.

"Good luck, my darling."

...

When the driver stopped in front of the old building, you couldn't help but think he had gotten the address wrong.

"Are you sure we're in the right place?"

"177A Bleecker Street. That's the exact address Madam Elise gave me. Do you want me to call her to check?"

You shook your head "No. It's okay. Thank you." You said, opening the door and getting out of the car.

"Should I pick you up in an hour?" He asked.

"No. He paid for the night." You informed, closing the door.

You walked up the steps slowly, somewhat intimidated by the oppressiveness of the place and trying to convince yourself that this was really happening, but when you approached the door, it opened on its own and you were overcome with the realization that you were about to spend the night with none other than Defender Strange himself.

As soon as you entered, the door closed behind you and you stood in the empty entrance hall somewhat disconcerted and not knowing what to do next. It took what seemed like an eternity until you were greeted by a baritone voice.

"Hello. I'm sorry, I was sure the woman I talked to this morning told me you would arrive at 9pm" He said going down the stairs and coming towards you. He was dressed exactly as you had seen him on TV or in the newspapers. Black and red robes, boots and hair tied in a ponytail, but gosh, the TV and newspapers didn't do justice to his beauty. Defined jaw, sharp cheekbones, plump lips and beautiful blue eyes. The man was gorgeous.

"I'm sure Madam Elise wouldn't get confused with my schedule. You must have spoken to Aline, her personal secretary." You said, feeling your cheeks turning red from the strange situation and also from the way he glared at you.

"Well, I have no reason to complain if her mistake gave me more time with you." He smirked, extending his hand for you to hold and bringing it to his lips. You knew that if it was any other man doing that you would roll your eyes at how cliché and ridiculous the gesture was, but with him all you could think about was how elegant and gentle he was. He just seemed so calm and kind.

"I'm sure you already know me, but let me formally introduce myself. Doctor Stephen Strange, or how my friends call me, Defender Strange, but you can call me Stephen."

You smiled "It's a pleasure to meet you, Stephen. I'm Y/n, but of course you already know that."

His smile widened "It's a pleasure to meet you in person, Y/n." He kept your hand in his. "Come, this is my house." He said gesturing ahead and taking you to the lounge and you found yourself analyzing every detail. The place was beautiful. It definitely wasn't to your taste, but it had a certain charm. Everything looked ancient, from the extravagant chandeliers to the reddish wooden furniture, everything seemed to have been there for many, many years.

"It's very nice." You said, still dazzled by every detail that was visible to you. The place was huge. "Do you live alone here?"

"Yes. I am the master of this Sanctum and therefore I live here. It is old and makes strange noises at night, but you learn to like it over time." He seemed to analyze your expressions carefully.

"But it must be lonely living alone in such a big place." You insisted, still amazed by the size of the place and you had only seen the foyer and the lounge.

Stephen smirked "It's rarely empty and work takes up most of my days, so I don't have time to feel lonely."

"Hmm."

"Please, sit. May I offer you something to drink?"

"Sure." You said, sitting on the beautiful victorian sofa.

"Wine? Maybe something stronger?"

"Wine is great."

He nodded. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be back in a moment."

You did as he asked and as soon as he left, he returned with two glasses and a bottle of red wine which he opened and poured.

"I'm curious" You said, taking the glass he handed to you. "How do you know me? I mean, Madam Elise told me you asked for me specifically."

He smiled and took a long sip of wine.

"It's a long story. The short version is that a friend of mine told me about you."

"Is he a client?"

He chuckled, "I don't really know. I'm just glad he lead me to meet you."

You sipped the wine slowly, savoring the sweet on your tongue as much as you were savoring the enigmatic company of the man in front of you. However he downed the last of his wine and stood up.

"If you allow me, I need to finish a few things before I can dedicate myself entirely to you. Please, make yourself at home. Choose something for us to listen to, if you like music. I have a large collection. I'm sure something will please you."

With that he walked away, disappearing from sight and leaving you alone in the huge lounge.

You did what he suggested. You refilled your glass and ventured into the huge shelf of music in front of you, which to your surprise were not CDs but LPs. You got distracted reading the titles. He had a little bit of everything, from classical to pop music, including R&B and Hip Hop, classic rock and industrial metal and other things you didn't even know.

You opted for Bon Jovi and left it playing at a pleasant ambient volume and distracted yourself by scrolling through your Instagram feed for what seemed like a long time.

When he returned, he was no longer dressed in his sorcerer robes, but rather in dark jeans and a gray shirt. His hair, however, was still tied up in a ponytail and you found yourself thinking that any man in the world would look ridiculous with that hair, but not him.

"Bon Jovi. Good choice."

"A little cheesy, but I like it." You confessed. "I don't think I've ever met anyone who had so much physical music in the days of streaming services."

He chuckled. "Let's just say I'm old-fashioned. I'm not given to technology."

"No, just magic, I presume." You teased, getting up and approaching him, deciding to take the initiative. Men usually liked you to take the initiative, but with him you weren't too sure, but you had already waited too long and to be quite honest, you were eager to finally start the night.

"Are you going to show me some tonight?" You asked in your most seductive voice, and he let you snuggle into his arms and leaned his face against your hand when you touched him and finally, finally, he kissed you. A soft kiss, as if he was tasting a forbidden fruit, but you were eager to deepen the kiss, eager to finally claim him as one of your most valuable conquests.

His lips were thick and soft, his tongue tasted like wine and something else you couldn't identify and the touch of his beard on your face was delicious.

You couldn’t remember the last time you were this turned on by a kiss, but you could feel the slick between your legs. However, he pulled away gently when your hands threatened to unbutton his shirt.

"I can show you one or two things, but I'd like us to have dinner first." He said. "We don't need to rush, we have the whole night ahead of us."

But you had no intention of stopping now, not when your lips were finally on his mouth, down his chin and then his neck, nibbling his ear lobe. "I'm not hungry. Not for food at least." You whispered in his ear and watched him swallow thickly, but he grabbed your hand and pulled you away gently.

"I must insist."

You nodded a little confused, but let yourself be pulled into what soon turned out to be the dining room. The table was set and the food smelled wonderful. You hadn't really noticed that you were hungry until now, but it shouldn't have been a surprise since you had barely eaten all day.

He pulled out the chair for you to sit down and confessed. "I bought the food from my favorite Italian restaurant. I hope you don't mind. I would have cooked, but I didn't have time."

But he knew how to cook. Noted.

You smiled reassuringly, "It's great. It's more than I expected to be honest. Men don't usually serve me dinner. It's usually the other way around, you know?" You chuckled.

He poured your glass and his and then sat down too. "Men rarely know how to value what they have."

You felt your cheeks blushing and disguised it by taking a sip of wine.

"Well, they pay two thousand dollars for the hour." You said finally trying the food. "Wow, this is delicious."

He smiled satisfied and only them allowed himself to start eating too. "I'm not talking about money. For me, having the company of a woman, whether I paid for her or not, is always a privilege.

You stared at him and then gave in to your curiosity. "I wonder why a man like you needs to pay for a woman."

He didn't seem surprised or bothered by the question. He chewed slowly and swallowed, wiped his lips on his napkin and took a sip of his wine and then said simply. "I don't have to pay for women. But I had to pay to have the woman I wanted."

You felt your stomach fluttering at those words and something about the way he glanced at you and said it made you blush, and you smiled shyly. "I hope I'm worth it."

...

After dinner you convinced him to take you on a small tour of the house and your admiration for the place only increased with each new room that was presented to you.

"This is the library." He said, opening the two wooden doors and indicating for you to enter. He entered right behind you and waited in silence while you swept the place with your eyes.

 It was ancient and beautiful, like you expected the library of an old castle or something to be like. So many shelves of books that went from floor to ceiling and small ladders supported on the shelves so that people could get books from higher places. There were also small desks scattered around the place and a larger one in the left corner with a large wooden and leather chair. Some books, paper and pen and a pair of reading glasses on top of it.

"It's my second favorite place in the house." He reported proudly, "It's also where I spend most of my time when I'm not on a mission."

You nodded, walking slowly down one of the corridors and trying to read the titles of the books. Most of them were written in other languages. "Which is the first?"

He smiled getting closer and when he spoke again his voice sounded dangerously close to your ear "I'll show you."

You felt your skin prickle and that didn't go unnoticed by him. He held your shoulders and got close enough for you to feel his body pressed against yours. His fingers slowly pulled the strap of your dress and only then did you notice a tremor in his hands, but before you could ask yourself what had happened to them, he started to place little kisses on your shoulder and little by little he raised them to your neck and you completely forgot what you were thinking.

The little kisses went up to your ear and he nibbled your earlobe and exhaled heavily as if he had been holding his breath for a long time and your body trembled with the sensation of his warm breath.

Without holding back, you turned to face him and pulled him into a kiss and your lips collided with a passion that surprised you. His tongue invaded your mouth and dominated yours easily and your fingers were quick to unbutton the buttons of his shirt, while his fingers unzipped your dress and the two of you desperately undressed without your mouths separating for even a second. Suddenly the idea of ​​being apart from him seemed absurd and you were surprised by the overwhelming passion that took over you. It was as if the two of you were live wires that had finally touched and were now joined by an electric current of passion and lust.

When your dress was lying on the floor and your hands managed to free him from his pants and finally free his cock from his boxers, you pumped him a few times reveling in the realization that he was as big as you needed him to be. He rested his forehead on yours, closing his eyes and indulging in the touch of your hand and you cupped his face and pulled him back to your lips.

"I've waited for this for so long." He rasped in your lips, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you off the floor. You locked your legs around his waist, and he carried you to the largest desk and quickly finished undressing you, but made a point of keeping your high heels on.

He kicked his shoes away and did the same with his pants and boxers, leaving him gloriously naked for you and you watched in fascination as he moved his fingers and a condom materialized in thin air. He opened it quickly with his teeth and put it in with a certain desperation and finally entered you.

You both moaned at the sensation and you held yourself on to the edge of the desk as he thrusted against you with a certain desperation that was surprising and at the same time delicious. The sound of your bodies slamming against each other mixed with your moans and echoed through the empty library.

Your head fell back and he took the opportunity to bury his face between your breasts and took one nipple in his mouth and then another.

"Fuck..." You cursed out and then bit your lips to contain your moans, but they kept escaping as he fucked you so good and with so much passion and you suddenly noticed that you weren't forcing a positive reaction to please him. If anything, you were surprised with yourself, at how he was making you feel.

Your hand grabbed his hair and pulled him back to your lips and he kissed you passionately, thrusting his tongue into your mouth with the same desperation with which he thrusted his cock inside you. Fast, intense and delicious.

He broke the kiss only to run his lips down your neck and pushed you gently so that you lay down on the desk and pulled your hips closer to the edge and with a hand flat on your lower belly he returned to thrust into you and the variation of the position made him hit your g spot with calculous precision and your mouth went agape.

Men didn't usually find your g spot and didn't even bother trying, always desperate to achieve their own pleasure, but he was different, somehow he was different from everyone else.

"Stephen... You're going to make me cum."

You confessed surprise at how the knot seemed to tighten in your stomach. "Do you want me to cum, baby?"

He didn't respond, too involved in his own pleasure, but he put a hand between you touching your clit and rubbing his fingers there in slow circles and that was enough of an answer for you and your body responded to the stimulation quickly pulling you to the edge.

You came hard and he came soon after.

When he finished, he pulled you to meet his lips and something about the sweetness of that kiss made your heart flutter in your chest in a way you hadn't felt in a long time, but you were too caught up in all the sensations to pay attention to what they meant.

It was you who broke the kiss to breathe and he gently pulled out and quickly got rid of the dirty condom with a flick of his fingers and ran his hand through his hair, tucking the strands that came loose from the ponytail behind his ear and then smiled seeming a little embarrassed.

"This wasn't how I imagined." He said and upon noticing how that sentence could be interpreted in a wrong way he ran to explain "I thought I could get to the room. Give you a little comfort at least."

You stood up and approached him, cupping his cheek gently. "Believe me, you gave me something much better." You said letting out a small chuckle and pulling him back to your lips and something between his little moan and how his hand hold you closer to him made you feel like he was melting for you.

"Now will you show me your favorite place in the house?" You asked giving him your cutest smile and he nodded smiling.

"Anything you want."

The two of you got dressed in silence, but the silence wasn't awkward, in fact it was full of smiles and glances, and you found yourself thinking that you didn't remember the last time you felt like that, like you were on a real date rather than being with a client.

Either way, you pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind, remembering very well Madam Elise's words: No matter how incredible a client is, never forget they are just that: a client. Because they will never forget that you are a whore.

You sighed, letting the silly smile on your lips slowly die.

Stephen led you up the stairs and you walked behind him down a long hallway until you stopped in front of a large door, but before he opened it he turned to you and gently informed, "Many of the artifacts you will see in this room are magical and their value is immeasurable. I must ask you not to touch anything."

"Geez, I'm not that clumsy, Stephen." You defended yourself giving him your best smile.

"Please" He insisted.

"Okay, no touching." You promised, showing your hands to him and holding them behind your back dramatically. He smirked and then nodded opening the door and the two of you slowly entered. He snapped his fingers and the lights came on so you could actually look at the place.

It was a large and spacious room full of pedestals with vases and other objects on top, some were protected by glass, others were not. Everything seemed so old, from the heavy amber curtains and the gold and burgundy carpets to the cabinets and book shelves, the paintings on the walls and the ostentatious chandelier in the center of the ceiling. There was a fireplace surrounded by two loveseats and a fluffy dark brown rug. On the floor, next to the rug, there were some books and a forgotten tea cup.

But all of this was nothing compared to the beautiful round window that gave a beautiful view of Greenwich Village. "Wow, this is beautiful."

You approached the window to take a look outside where cars were rushing past. You had already seen that window from the outside, not to mention they sold postcards of the city with the front of the Sanctum Sanctorum printed on them, but being inside, observing the outside through that window was something else entirely.

"I usually come here when I need to think or just disconnect from my sorcerer problems." He explained, approaching you from behind and wrapping his arms around your waist. "This window is special, it allows me to see more of what is in front of me."

You raised an eyebrow "Is this some wizard code for something?"

He chuckled in your ear making your body tingle and then pointed to the window "This pattern is the seal of Vishanti, I don't expect you to know what it means, but it is very important and protects the Sanctum from various types of threats."

You nodded, looking at the intricate symbol in the window, but more precisely looking at him, so serious when he was talking about his work and so beautiful with that long hair, the gray strands just made him even more attractive and the beard, those cheekbones and the eyes...

"The window of worlds allows me to see other realities and dimensions. Some are pleasant to look at, benevolent so to speak, so you can easily get lost while watching them, others are dark and frightening, but it is my job to observe them and assure that everything remains in its natural state, without interference in our real world."

You smiled shyly admitting, "It's hard to combine the things you're explaining with the term real world. I live in the real world, this is… something else."

He let out a small laugh and then buried his nose in your hair and inhaled deeply, "You weren't real to me until tonight."

You turned to look at him "You talk about me like you know me."

He sighed, closing his eyes when your hand cupped his cheek, but before you could ask anything he pulled you to his lips and you felt your entire body shaking with that kiss, your heart pounding in your head as you gave in to the certainty that there was more than just sex involved tonight, even though you knew it was crazy, you couldn't help but feel that way. He was different, special and it wasn't because of who he was or the things he could do - magically speaking - but rather because of the way he could turn you into a puddle of goo with a look, a smile, a touch of his trembling hands and that kiss.

He was the one who broke the kiss first and before he could pull away, you pulled him to your lips again kissing him one more time. He smiled satisfied pulling away, but made sure to keep holding your hand and gently directed you to the rug next to the fireplace.

You watched him get rid of his shoes and did the same, letting your sore feet be caressed by the softness of the rug.

"I usually meditate here." He said, picking up the cup from the floor and disposing of it with a movement of his hand. "And I read. It helps keep me grounded. It's where I can have privacy, besides my room, of course."

You nodded, sitting on the carpet and reaching out to pick up one of the books, but he quickly took them out of your reach and returned them to the bookshelf.

"I'm surprised I can touch you, since everything here is sacred." You teased watching as he sat next to you, his hands automatically pulled you close and his fingers played with the strap of your dress pulling it down and placing little kisses on your shoulder. With his other hand he started to unzip your dress on your back and you felt your skin prickling.

"I am not sacred." He explained, searching for your lips and kissing you hungrily "Actually, I'm very human..." He continued kissing you, but his hands helped you get rid of the straps of your dress, letting it fall to your waist and undressing your breasts to him as he held one of them in his hand, pinching a nipple "...with human needs that I want you to satisfy."

You intertwined your fingers in his hair when his lips went down to your neck and he began to suck on your throat. He stopped and admired his work and then continued making sure the mark stayed.

"Y-you... can't..." You tried to warn him in vain when you finally noticed what he was doing, but he covered your lips with his index finger and continued until he was satisfied.

"What can't I do?" He asked with a cute smirk on his lips once he was satisfied with his work.

You swallow thickly feeling drunk, even though all you had drank that night was three glasses of wine.

"Mark me." You finally managed to say and his smirk turned into a grin.

"Too late for that, baby. Skin is very nice and soft, can't help it." And as if to prove what he was saying, he lightly bit the spot just below your ear and then sucked on the skin, eliciting a moan from your lips.

You couldn't tell what he had, but he managed to mess with you in a way that you couldn't understand, you could either think straight or formulate a coherent sentence while he had his lips on you. He made you melt, all your self-confidence and control seemed to melt before him.

"What's going on inside this pretty head of yours?" He asked, biting your chin and sticking his tongue in your mouth in another breathtaking kiss.

You hummed into his lips and tried to formulate a response when he finally broke the kiss.

"You. Right now, there is only you."

He smiled proudly, "Yeah? But there's another place I'd rather be at the moment."

You bit your bottom lip and waited for him to tell you.

"With my face between your legs." He rasped in your ear "Would you like that?"

God yes, please. But you just nodded letting yourself be manhandled as he laid you down on the fluffy rug and finished taking off your dress and panties. Your legs hung to the sides and he didn't wait to dive between them, lapping his tongue into your folds to make you even wetter than you already were.

He used his fingers to open your folds and licked your clit lightly with the tip of his tongue making your entire body tremble, your hands searched for something to grab and stopped in his hair, grabbing his ponytail, but you policed ​​yourself to don't pull.

"Oh fuck... oh yes, yes..."

He hummed approvingly at your reaction and the vibration made your body shake. Without waiting any longer, he took your clit between his lips and began to suck slowly and then increasing the pressure and you saw stars.

You loved oral sex, but the men you had sex with never cared enough to waste time pleasuring you like this, after all they were paying a lot of money, it was understandable they preferred to receive rather than give, but Defender Strange was different from all of your other clients, he was actually taking pleasure in giving pleasure to you and he was wonderful. You couldn't remember the last time you had your clit sucked with such dexterity, if anyone had ever managed to reach that level of excellence, that is, and your clit suckers could only do so much and were nothing compared to the real thing and Stephen, oh god, Stephen was even better than the real thing. He was perfect.

You could feel the knot inside you threatening to break, your legs shaking under the grip of his hands and the next thing you knew you were tugging at his hair, the hair tie came loose in your hand and you finished getting rid of it letting his soft locks fall like a curtain of dark brown and gray.

Of course he could feel you were close, your body was shaking, your breathing was faster, your wet, neglected hole was clenching around nothing and your moans were getting louder and louder, but then he stopped, brought his hand down to his hair moving them away from his face and stared at you with those blue eyes and a satisfied smile on his lips that somehow took your breath away.

"Please... don't..." You could barely speak.

"I don't want you to cum yet." He confessed and then crawled on top of you "You're so delicious, you know that, right?"

You pulled him to your lips instead of responding. The taste of your cunt in his mouth was so obscene and so delicious that you couldn't control a moan. He chuckled between your lips letting you control the kiss for the first time that night. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you couldn't resist, you pulled just a little to see his reaction and to your surprise and delight he moaned, a loud and unmistakable moan.

When your lips parted, he glanced at you and you took the opportunity to caress his face, tracing the outline of his beard with your finger.

"You're so beautiful." You confessed "You're even more beautiful in person than on TV."

He let out a little giggle and you could see a light shade of pink fill his cheeks and you thought it was adorable.

He kissed your lips softly and held your chin between his thumb and forefinger "You're beautiful. You have the most beautiful pair of eyes I've ever seen and your smile... it does things to me."

You smiled shyly with the way he was glancing at you and then watched as he seemed to go somewhere else in his mind for a second but soon after he smiled back. "Where have you been all this time?" He asked.

You weren't sure what to say, so you just pulled him to your lips again and kissed him, feeling a strange sensation in your stomach. His lips moved down your chin and he touched your lips with his thumb, gently forcing them apart. You took his digit in your mouth and sucked on it, teasing him to which he smirked.

"I want your mouth now." He asked, taking his finger out of your mouth and replacing it with his tongue and kissed you hard.

You cupped his cheek and asked, "Tell me how you like it."

There were many things you could do with a man's cock in your mouth and you mastered that art masterfully, but with him you were insecure, you couldn't read him and while that was frustrating, it was also what made it all the most exciting.

"Do you ask this of all your clients?" He asked, looking genuinely curious.

You shook your head "No. Usually I know what they like right away, but you... you're different."

He seemed to like your answer. He rolled onto his side and lay on his back on the carpet. "You can start by undressing me and then you can take good care of me."

You sat down next to him and let your fingers run down his chest, playing with the buttons on his shirt.

"Do you like being taken care of?" You checked.

"Very much."

You unbuttoned his shirt, pulling the fabric aside and placing kisses on his chest, lowered your hand to his belt and bit your lip, noticing his hard on contained inside his pants. It twitched with the lightest of touches from your fingers and you couldn't help the proud smile on your lips. You moved to straddle his legs and unbuckled his belt and pants and with both hands you pulled down his pants and boxers, moving to take them off completely and throwing them in a pile on the floor.

You went back to straddling his legs and finally laid your eyes on his cock. You had felt him in your hands and felt him impaling you, but it was the first time you were looking directly at him and god, it was beautiful. The curvature that let it lean towards his stomach and the veins bulging around it combined with the fat, pink head made your mouth water. He was pulsing and leaking from the head and without holding back you bent down and licked the slit to collect the precum and it tasted so good. Salt and sweet at the same time.

"I can take care of you." You purred. "Just tell me exactly how you like it."

He bit his bottom lip to hold back a moan when you finally took him in your hand, holding him tight.

"Slowly. There's no need to gag on it, just take as much as you can. And I will love if you suck my balls, lightly, I'm very sensitive there."

You listened carefully. All you wanted was to please him.

"Can I make you cum in my mouth?"

"Fuck, yes" He replied and his cock twitched in your hand.

"But there will be another round for me, right?" You confirmed, smiling mischievously.

"As many as you want." He promised.

Your mouth was salivating to have him, but you started slowly, just giving little cat licks on the head and running your tongue down his entire length while your eyes remained fixed on his. If there was one thing that was certain about all men, it's that they love it when you suck their dicks while looking at them with big dull eyes. Defender Strange was no exception. He bit his lip to try to suppress a groan and his hands grabbed the fur on the rug.

You contained a giggle watching his reaction and continued with your work, lowering your tongue to the base and then taking one of his heavy balls in your mouth. You sucked slowly and then took the other one and repeated the same process while your hand moved up and down, slowly pumping him.

"Oh fuck, it's so good." He praised you and you felt that strange feeling in your stomach again, quickly realizing that you liked hearing him praising you and trying your best to have more of that.

You moved your lips up, placing small wet kisses along his entire length and stopped at his frenulum, licking it lightly with the tip of your tongue. For most men, the frenulum was the most sensitive part of their cocks and gave them the most pleasure when stimulated, however it used to be neglected most of the time by women, but you weren't like all women, you knew how to pleasure a man and there was nothing you wanted more than to pleasure Stephen. Not only that, you wanted to be the best he ever had.

You alternated the licks with light sucks on the delicate area and he began to writhe beneath you, moans began to escape his lips and you noticed how his baritone was even sexier in that context.

"Oh, right there, f-feels so good. J-just keep doing what you're doing with your tongue." He asked and you hummed satisfied, flicking your tongue in his frenulum and with one of your hands you began to massage his balls, giving them a light squeeze. With the other hand you continued pumping him at the base and he started to pulse in your hand and you knew that if you didn't reduce the stimulation he would cum before you even put him in your mouth, but you didn't care, you wanted to see him cumming like that, you wanted to prove to him that you were that good, so you increased the stimulation on his frenulum, changing the light licks for a more efficient suction while still using your tongue, but now not quickly, but like a kiss, slowly and with more passion.

"You're going to make me cum if you keep this up." He rasped bringing his hands to your head, but he didn't push or pull, he just grabbed your hair in a ponytail to move it away from your face and allow him to have a good view of what you were doing. Men were visual creatures.

"Do you want me to stop?" You asked, stopping to make sure, but he shook his head vehemently.

"Please, don't stop. Just keep working your tongue like that."

You did as he asked, but stopped pumping him and let his cock fall heavily onto his stomach, using only your mouth to stimulate him and your hand on his balls.

You licked, sucked, kissed his frenulum and started all over again until his grip on your hair got stronger, pulling at the roots and with a loud moan he came on his stomach.

"F-fuck yes. Oh shit... oh baby..."

You couldn't contain the smile on your lips when you saw him in that state, you were so proud of yourself, and you hadn’t even put him in your mouth. The man was so sensitive to touch, you wanted to ravish him so much.

You crawled on top of him and he cupped your cheek, still panting, but there was a wide smile on his lips.

"How did you do that?"

"I barely did anything. You are very sensitive."

He smirked, "Or maybe you're just too good with that tongue. No woman has ever made me cum like this." He confessed.

You felt your cheeks blushing and that was also an effect of him over you. You weren't shy, but when he looked at you like that and talked to you like that you felt yourself melting. Instead of saying anything, you kissed him softly, but then went down your lips to his neck, licking, biting, sucking on his pulse point and continued moving your lips down to his chest, taking one of his nipples in your mouth and sucking and pinching the other. He moaned softly and you felt him twitching in your stomach, his cum running down his sides, making your skin and his stick together and making a mess, but you couldn't care less.

He was soft now, but not completely and as soon as the stimulation on his nipples intensified he began to harden again for you. The man had a lot of stamina and you could only be grateful for that because you couldn’t wait to have him inside you again.

"R-ride me." His voice sounded shaky above your head. You brushed your hair away from your face to look at him and he cupped your face with both hands "Ride me, baby. Use me. Wanna see you getting off on my cock." He asked and you felt your heart pounding on your chest. You nodded and kissed him.

"Condom?" You asked, trying hard to reason. He moved his fingers and a condom materialized between his index finger and his middle finger and he handed it to you. With another movement of his fingers his shirt disappeared, and he was completely bare for you.

Opening the package, you took his lips in a hungry kiss and your hands went down to meet his cock, pumping him slowly, but with a firm grip on your hands, making him moan on your lips.

You dedicated yourself to putting the condom on him, but first you bent down to put him whole in your mouth. His hands automatically grabbed your hair as he hardened until it was rock hard in your mouth as you bobbed your head on his length, finally giving him the oral he deserved.

"S-such a delicious mouth. So f-fucking perfect... I knew you'd be so fucking good to me..."

You couldn't shake the thought that he spoke to you as if he knew you and that it wasn't just because a friend had recommended you to him, it seemed to be something more, but at the same time you also knew that something in him was awakening a different type of attraction and that you were probably only seeing things where nothing existed because you were too involved, so you tried hard to push away those thoughts and dedicated yourself to giving him the best blowjob, using your tongue the entire time, swirling it along his entire length while taking turns going up and down and using a little suction on his head. You knew it was going well because he continued praising you between moans that grew louder and louder, however he held your chin and gently took his cock out of your mouth.

"As incredible as this is, I really want to cum with my cock inside you this time." He explained. "And not before you."

You smiled nodding and finally – reluctantly - put on the condom. Part of you wanted to fuck him raw, but in your profession, that was never an option.

Moving to straddle him, you directed his cock at your entrance which was dripping wet and let yourself sink into him feeling him stretch you deliciously.

You had seen dicks of all sizes and learned to get the best out of each one, but you couldn't be a hypocrite or lie and say that size doesn't matter. Yes, it matters a lot, and you were so grateful that Defender Strange was this big, providing you with the perfect amount of stretch and with that perfect curvature that found your g spot with surprising ease. All you had to do was lean forward a little, resting both hands on his chest and that was it.

"Oh y-yes baby... right there."

Stephen groaned in satisfaction, both of his hands grabbed and squeezed the fat of your waist, his eyes fixed on yours the entire time.

"Hit that sweet special spot uh? I can feel it. Feels so good, so fucking warm and wet... shit... squeezing me so tight."

You bit your lip, moving your hips up and down, turning it sensually every time you went down, letting his pelvic bone and hair massage your clit, providing shocks of pleasure that felt like electric currents running through your entire body.

"I love seeing you riding me like this, so fucking gorgeous" He purred "Come on, baby, need more, fuck me harder."

You increased the pace until you were both panting, the sensuality giving way to the tireless search for your release that you knew wasn't too far away. You couldn't help it, he was so perfect, everything about him exuded sex, the looks, the moans, the dirty words of submission taking you to the limit and at the same time making you hold on to the edge because you didn't want it to end, you wanted to let that continue forever.

However, he seemed to understand that you were stalling because he wrapped his arm around your waist and sat down leaving the two of you in a lotus position and began to move you faster on top of him, thrusting his hips against you to increase the intensity of the thrusts.

Getting carried away by all the sensations and feeling the knot threatening to break, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and grabbed a handful of his hair tugging at it with more force than you should have while the movements of your hips on top of him became faster and more desperate.

"Do it again." He urged in your ear, his baritone little more than a whisper.

You pulled his hair again, even harder this time and his head fell back and you felt his cock throb inside you. A part of you loved that and without him asking you did it again and again and took advantage of the fact that his neck was on display for you and started sucking it hard, biting it and sucking again until it left a purple mark. Satisfied, you grabbed his chin and pulled him to your lips, sticking your tongue in his mouth and being surprised by the way he let himself be dominated and when he let out a sweet moan in your mouth and his dick throbbed again Inside you, you knew he had reached his limit.

You sunk your teeth into his shoulder, feeling the wave of pleasure and euphoria wash over you as the knot broke and you came hard on his cock and with a loud, animalistic groan he came soon after, his cock pulsing and spilling into the condom. God, how you wish it were your walls that he was painting white.

That thought alone should have been enough for you to question your sudden involvement with that man, but at that moment you didn't want to reason, you just wanted to feel.

...

You were still lying on the rug, staring at the ceiling in silence and immersed in your own thoughts. Although your head was still spinning, your breathing had finally returned to normal, and the reason seemed to be coming back to you because you were suddenly too self-aware of everything that had happened that night.

Stephen had left you for a few minutes and you could hear him cleaning himself in the bathroom. You should also get up and get dressed, but your legs felt like jelly and you couldn't find the will within you to do so.

When he came back and laid back down next to you he was dressed in gray sweatpants and his hair had been pulled back into a ponytail.

"Don't you think sex is a weird thing?" You said, verbalizing the confused thoughts in your head. "I mean, you say things you would never say if you weren't aroused, you do things you can't imagine doing under any other circumstances."

He smiled thinking for a second. "I think it's called intimacy."

"Yes and no. Personally, I think intimacy is different. It's when you feel free to continue talking after sex is over and how you feel about it."

"Like now?" He asked.

You didn't respond, instead you sat down and faced the fireplace.

"I have a list of things I don't do or don't let people do to me." You admitted it.

"What for example?"

"Hickeys" You replied holding back a smile "As you can imagine it's not smart of me to arrive at the appointment with my client marked by the previous client."

"And why do I think you weren't reluctant enough when you realized what I was doing?"

"Because I wasn't." You sighed. "I also don't usually kiss my clients. I mean, it's not a rule, but I avoid it if possible. It makes me uncomfortable."

He sat down, seeming to watch you closely, but didn't say anything.

"Talking about personal things, like I'm doing now, is also on my list." You hugged your legs and rested your chin on your knee giving him an apologetic smile. "You left me disconcerted."

He smiled touching your knee and with his other hand he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and then caressed your cheek.

"I'm not usually like this with other women. Although I enjoy it, I rarely let myself be in a position where I'm not in control. I think it's safe to say that we both did things tonight that we don't usually do, and I don't know about you, but I really liked it and I really hope you liked it."

You sighed, feeling that strange feeling in your stomach again. "That's the problem, Stephen. You shouldn't care what I like or don't like."

"But I care." He replied chuckling dryly. "Is it really that bad that I care?"

You shook your head trying to think straight. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have started this conversation."

"You can tell me whatever you want." He said moving to kiss you, but then stopped and decided to confirm, "Is it okay to keep kissing you?"

"I don't know." You admitted with a sigh, but surrendered and threw yourself into his arms anyway.

He let out a small giggle when your lips collided, but then he took control of the kiss, kissing you like that was the only thing that mattered to him and god, he was such a good kisser. One of the reasons you hated kissing your clients was because they were terrible kissers and also because you thought it was too intimate. But with Defender Strange neither of those things applied.

When he finally got tired of your lips, he stood up and held out his hand for you to do the same. "Come on, let's go to bed."

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

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@thealleydog @anadlockfan @pinkthick @loverofallbroken @butchers-girl @ironstrangeheart

[blkdaddie]

The Births of Hip-Hop

The air buzzed with anticipation, thick with the scent of street food and the rhythm of countless conversations. The stage, a colossal testament to fifty years of Hip Hop, stood at the center of the park, bathed in a kaleidoscope of lights. Thousands of fans, from old-school purists to the youngest enthusiasts, gathered to celebrate a culture that had shaped generations.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the first beats of the night reverberated through the crowd, signaling the start of an unforgettable evening. Iconic DJs and dancers took turns electrifying the audience, their movements and mixes paying homage to Hip Hop's evolution. But it was the sight of several visibly pregnant male performers that truly captivated everyone.

The headliner, a legendary rapper known as King Mic, stepped forward, his hand resting protectively on his pronounced belly. The crowd erupted into cheers, their admiration palpable. Mic raised a hand, signaling for quiet. His voice, seasoned by years of spitting bars and dropping wisdom, echoed through the speakers.

"Yo, yo, yo! Thank you, family, for showing up tonight! Fifty years of Hip Hop, can you believe it?" The crowd roared in response. "We've dedicated our lives to this culture, to this music. We've given it our sweat, our tears, and our blood. And now, we're here to give birth to the next generation, literally and metaphorically."

His words resonated, a powerful metaphor for the legacy they had built and were continuing to build. As the night progressed, each act brought their unique flavor to the stage. DJ Spin, known for his turntable mastery, spun tracks with one hand while the other cradled his round stomach. His movements were fluid, his energy infectious, despite the extra weight he carried.

Midway through the concert, another performer, MC Rhythm, took the mic. His belly stretched the fabric of his shirt, a testament to the life growing inside him. He smiled broadly, the crowd's energy fueling him. "This ain't just about music," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "It's about family, about legacy. Hip Hop taught me how to be strong, how to survive, and now, it's teaching me how to nurture and bring new life into this world."

The audience was spellbound, the connection between the performers and their fans deepening with each word. The night was a tapestry of beats, rhymes, and the shared experience of life and growth. The pregnant performers embodied the essence of Hip Hop—resilience, creativity, and the power to bring something new into the world.

As the final act took the stage, the crowd's excitement reached a fever pitch. The lights dimmed, and a single spotlight illuminated the center. King Mic returned, joined by all the performers from the night. They stood together, a united front, each one a pillar of Hip Hop's enduring legacy.

"Tonight, we celebrate fifty years of Hip Hop," Mic declared, his voice unwavering. "And we look forward to the future, to the new generation we're bringing into this world. Hip Hop is family, and family is everything."

The crowd erupted in applause, their cheers blending with the beats that had defined the night. The concert ended with a final, powerful performance, the music a heartbeat that connected everyone present. It was a night of celebration, of legacy, and of the unbreakable bond between Hip Hop and its people. As the last notes faded into the night, the future of Hip Hop shone brightly, carried forward by those who had given it life and those who would continue its story.

[littlest-w01f]

In the Shadows

Azriel x Dancer!OC (Mohini)

AZRIEL MASTERLIST

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Summary: He's watching her, and has been since he first came to Dawn Court for business, the ethereal dancer that struck in the hearts of not only her people but all of Prythian with every performance

Cw: Stalker!Az

part one

The halls of the most popular Dawn Theatre were bustling with the audience, fae of all kinds trying to get inside, it had been a week of busy days for the theatre, everyone wanting a glimpse of the ethereal beauty that was Mohini, the dancer who's portraits had been handing all over the court, even fae from other Courts were present, not wanting a miss a chance to see her dance. Among the crowd, was Thesan, the High Lord of Dawn, with him stood Aizen, his lover, and the High Lord and Lady of Night, Rhysand and Feyre, with their little Heir, Nyx.

As the doors finally opened, the crowd surged forward, their excitement palpable as they rushed into the grand auditorium. The air was thick with anticipation, each fae eager to lay eyes upon the enchanting Mohini, whose talent had captured the hearts of so many. While Thesan and Aizen led their guests to one of the private boxes on top of the audience.

The theatre's opulent interior gleamed under the soft glow of luminescent orbs suspended from the vaulted ceiling. Velvet curtains in rich jewel tones framed the stage, while ornate golden railings encircled the seating areas. A hush fell over the audience as they took their places, the whispers dying down like embers smothered by ash.

As the lights dimmed and the last fae found their seats, a profound silence enveloped the grand auditorium. The only sound was the faint rustling of silken gowns and the soft hum of anticipation building in the chests of the assembled fae. On the stage, a solitary figure emerged from the shadows, her presence commanding attention without uttering a word.

Mohini, the dancer extraordinaire, stood poised at centre stage. Her form was a vision of elegance, clad in a gown of iridescent blues, pinks and greens. Delicate tendrils of silver embroidery danced across the fabric, catching the light and weaving an ethereal aura around her. Her raven hair cascaded down her back in a glossy braid, adorned with gold, a few loose strands framing her heart-shaped face.

"By the stars," Feyre breathed, her eyes wide with awe as she gazed upon the mesmerizing sight before them, despite the background dancers, Mohini held everyone's focus. Beside Feyre, Rhysand nodded approvingly, talking with his mate in their heads, his hand resting on the small of her back. Little Nyx craned his neck, his eyes shining with childlike wonder at the magnificent display unfolding onstage.

Thesan smiled enigmatically, his gaze never leaving Mohini's form. "There are rumors that she possesses magic beyond our comprehension, a gift granted by the Mother herself with how enchanting her display is." His fingers curled imperceptibly around Aizen's own.

Mohini moved with grace, each step, each breath was measured to perfection, her heavy gown moving in sync, she had her feet in a wrap, to make sure they wouldn't swell with all the dancing she did. Each subtle shift of her weight, each delicate arch of her foot, spoke volumes about the mastery of her artistry. The intricate choreography wove through tales both ancient and modern, each tale told through the language of dance.

The rhythm of the music dictated the tempo of her performance, yet there was something more - a pulse of energy that seemed to emanate from within her. It was as though she were a vessel for the very essence of dance itself, channeling the spirits of those who came before her and giving voice to the hopes and dreams of those watching.

With every movement, Mohini seemed to defy gravity itself. Her steps were precise and deliberate, yet there was an underlying rhythm that spoke of ancient dances performed beneath the faerie lights. The delicate fabric of her gown flowed around her like liquid light, accentuating the curves of her body without ever being overtly revealing.

She began to spin, her arms extended outward like wings, her head tilted back in silent prayer to whatever deity had gifted her with such extraordinary grace. Each revolution brought a new pattern to life within the folds of her dress, the intricate embroidery shimmering like a constellation against the black velvet backdrop of the stage.

Then, suddenly, the tempo quickened, and the rhythm of the music became more complex. Mohini responded in kind, her steps now intricate and precise, each footfall a delicate dance of power and precision. Her dress swayed and fluttered, mirroring the fluidity of her movements. As the performance progressed, Mohini introduced new elements - spins, leaps, twirls - each more breathtaking than the last. The crowd watched, enraptured, their breaths caught in their throats.

A low murmur rippled through the audience as they watched her, spellbound by her artistry. Even those who'd seen her perform countless times before found themselves captivated anew by the sheer mastery of her craft.

Each partner she danced with, felt the same electrifying thrill course through them, as if they were the sole object of her affection, as if the current male she was dancing with, the two of them were the only people that existed, her eyes still always seeming to look past them, as if lost in another world entirely. Her movements were a whirlwind of energy and emotion, yet there was something distant about her, almost untouchable.

As the music reached its crescendo, Mohini's movements became more frenetic, her body a blur of color and motion. She leapt and twirled, her feet barely seeming to touch the ground as she traversed the stage with breathtaking agility. The audience held their collective breath, scarcely daring to blink lest they miss a single moment of her sublime performance.

Suddenly, Mohini froze mid-leap, her body arched in a pose that defied fae physiology. For a single, agonizing heartbeat, she felt suspended in the air, her gown billowing out around her like a light halo. Then, with a graceful flick of her wrists, she descended back to the lands, straightening back up. The auditorium erupted into thunderous applause, fae rising to their feet as they cheered and whistled their appreciation.

Mohini stood, her chest heaving with heavy breaths, she then took a deep bow. As Mohini bowed deeply, acknowledging the overwhelming ovation, even from her dancers, the applause only intensified. Flowers showered down from the balconies above, petals drifting gently onto the stage like confetti. As the ovation died down, she made her way backstage with a poise that suggested she was used to such adulation.

When she reached back, she looked curiously at the bouquet of Night Blooms, and a note in the flowers, it wasn't special to find flowers or gifts from her admirers, but most people didn't sneak into her private rooms in the theaters to send these gifts.

With a puzzled expression, Mohini unfolded the note and read its contents. The handwriting was neat and elegant, but the words were cryptic, causing a frown to crease her brow.

"Your dance tonight was exquisite, sweet thing"

The sender remained anonymous, which wasn't unusual, nevertheless, something about this particular message stirred a sense of unease within her. It was far too personal, too intimate for someone she hadn't met.

Mohini frowned slightly as she read the note again, a strange mix of flattery and unease swirling within her. It was unusual for someone to slip past her guards undetected, let alone gain access to her private chambers. She glanced around warily, half-expecting some mysterious figure to materialize from the shadows. She was sure her mind was just playing tricks on her when she noted something move in the darkness.

She didn't have time to ponder over the secret note as she was supposed to be outside, taking the people who took time out of their day to see her. Her fans awaited, eager for a glimpse of the legendary dancer. With a deep breath, she composed herself and stepped back out onto the stage, a warm smile on her lips.

As she descended the stairs, a sea of faces turned towards her, eyes shining with admiration and gratitude. Mohini waved graciously, her hands fluttering like butterflies as she acknowledged the enthusiastic crowd. She paused to engage with her public.

Mohini's radiant smile and effortless charm worked their usual magic on the audience, many of whom had traveled great distances simply to catch a glimpse of her. She signed scrolls and parchments, and accepted tokens of appreciation with gracious humility. Despite the weariness etched on her features, her spirit remained bright and unflagging, a true testament to her dedication to her craft and her people.

She had met the High Lords and Lady as well as the little heir they had brought, she didn't mention the flowers but the Night Blooms made sense from the Lord and Lady of Night, even if it was weird either of them would call her "sweet thing". She was respectful throughout the meeting as Thesan, her High Lord kept reminding her there was no need for strict formalities.

As the evening drew to a close, Mohini bid farewell to her fans with heartfelt thanks, promising to return soon with more performances to delight and inspire them. With a final wave, she retreated to her private quarters, her mind already turning to the next show, the next challenge. But first, she would need to unravel the mystery of the cryptic note, and perhaps, uncover the identity of the elusive admirer who had managed to breach her defences so effortlessly.

Azriel Shadowsinger watched intently as Mohini removed her elaborate jewellery piece by piece, placing them carefully on a silver tray. Her fingers were nimble and practised, betraying years of experience handling precious stones and delicate ornaments. Next came the intricate hairpins, each one seemingly more beautiful than the last, until her dark tresses fell freely around her shoulders, cascading down to her waist.

For a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it might feel like to run his fingers through those locks, to explore the gentle contours of her body with his hands.

Finally, she approached a large mirror, peeling off layer after layer of makeup, revealing the natural beauty beneath. There was an intimacy to the act that was both fascinating and strangely arousing to watch. Azriel found himself transfixed, unable to tear his gaze away from the captivating image before him.

He had followed his High Lord and Lady to Dawn, not because he didn't trust Thesan's genuine offer to his High Lady who had wanted to watch Mohini after she had heard of her from someone in the Rainbow but rather because he had seen her before, he was drawn to her, unable to keep the thought of her away from him.

Azriel silently watched her step behind a dressing screen to remove her clothing, her silhouette was shadowed against the white screen, giving him a straight view of her curves.

Azriel watched as her form from behind the dressing screen, her skin glowing under the soft moonlight streaming through the window. He could make out the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts, the smooth expanse of her stomach. His pulse quickened as he imagined the warmth of her skin, the softness of her flesh. He knew he should turn away, that he had no right to invade her privacy in this manner, but he was helpless to resist the allure of the vision before him.

His heart pounded in his chest as he watched her, mesmerized by the sight of her naked form bathed in the ethereal glow of the moonlight, his shadows were all over the room, just as crazed as him. He swallowed hard, his throat dry as he stared at her, drinking in every detail. He could see the rise and fall of her chest, the gentle sway of her hips, the soft curve of her thighs. His arousal grew with each passing second, fueled by the forbidden nature of his actions.

She slipped on a pair of casual clothes, reaching her dresser to pack some of her important things up, he watched her eyes go over the flowers he had gotten her. Azriel's breath hitched as he saw her eyes linger on the flowers, his heart pounding in his chest. He wondered what she was thinking, whether she suspected anything, or if she was oblivious to his presence. He watched her closely, his gaze never leaving her, fascinated by her every movement. He couldn't help but admire her grace, her elegance, her sheer beauty.

His heart and shadows all almost sang as she picked the flowers up to take them with her. Azriel felt a surge of excitement coursing through his veins as he watched her pick up the flowers. His heart hammered against his ribs, echoing the rhythm of his pulse. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, to hold her, but he held back, knowing that now was not the time, not the place. Instead, he remained hidden in the shadows, watching her with a hunger that bordered on obsession.

For now, he would simply follow her home, to keep her safe through her journey of course, a few weeks ago, he had seen a few drunken males trying to follow her home, he could hear what they were whispering to each other about her, the things they wanted to do to her, and he had felt anger burning in him way hotter than any he had ever felt, and he for a moment had thought of digging truth-teller so far up their spine no amount of medicine or magic would make their legs work again. Instead of that, he had done the more sensible thing, he had left them bloody and beaten on the side of the street.

Azriel felt a rush of protective instinct flood through him as he recalled the incident with the drunken males. The thought of anyone harming her filled him with a primal rage, making him yearn to assert his dominance, to claim her as his own.

As Mohini made her way through the winding streets of Dawn, Azriel melted into the shadows, his form becoming one with the darkness itself. He moved silently, his footsteps barely audible even to his own ears, always staying just out of sight yet close enough to intervene if needed. His keen senses were attuned to every sound, every movement, alert for any signs of danger.

The night air was cool against his skin, carrying with it the distant sounds of revelry and the sweet scent of night-blooming flowers. Above, the stars glittered like diamonds strewn across a velvet sky, casting a faint luminescence over the city below. Yet, none of these details captured Azriel's attention as much as the female walking ahead of him did.

{General Taglist- @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith @minnieoo}

{Azriel Taglist- @fxckmiup @annamariereads16 @saltedcoffeescotch @satorusemepls @fieldofdaisiies}

[talonabraxas]

Nataraja literally means lord of the dance. Siva is the lord, the ultimate and effective cause of all creation and the dance is his act of creation, a dynamic rhythmic movement. His dance is a guided action, under his complete mastery, not an act of chaotic, random movements. The lord and the dance together constitute the projection of the Paramasiva, the highest eternal and formless Nirguna Brahman on the canvas of his own awakened state as Saguna Brahman.

“Angikam bhuvanam yasya Vachikam sarva vangmayam Aharyam chandra taradi Tam namah satvikam Shivam.”

(We bow to that virtuous Shiva, whose limbs embody the universe, whose speech is all-encompassing, and whose ornaments are the moon and stars.

Nataraja 'Cosmic Dancer' Talon Abraxas