#halsey source
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Halsey - Lonely is the Muse (Amazon Music Live) | Amazon Music
#*ours#halsey#live#ashley frangipane#halseyedit#halseydaily#dailyhalsey#lonely is the muse#tw flashing#flashing gif#tw flashing gif#the great impersonator#tgi#amazon live#amazon music live#amazon music#halsey edit#daily halsey#dailymusicians#dailymusicsource#dailymusicqueens#tsusermeggie#halsey daily#halseysource#halsey source#halsey live
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Oh Halsey, Ilysm
#halsey#halseyedit#vmas#vmas 2024#wlw#sapphic#sapphics#bisexual#bi#lgbt#lgbtq#lgbtqia#lgbtqia+#lgbtedit#dailylgbtq#dailywomen#dailymusicians#dailymusicqueens#femaledaily#femalestunning#flawlessbeautyqueens#flawlesscelebs#wonderfulwomendaily#thequeensofbeauty#dailymusicsource#blogmusicdaily#musicsourcedaily#musicgifs#userpcultures#source: youtube
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#girlblog#girlblogger#girlblogging#this is a girlblog#2014 tumblr#2014 aesthetic#2014 revival#2014 grunge#2014 nostalgia#2014 vibes#2014core#soft grunge#pale grunge#indie sleaze#halsey#stargirl#cool girl#dream girl#it girl#just girly things#this is what makes us girls#cinnamon girl#hyper feminine#source: pinterest
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dan cain moral ocd haver. like if you agree. scroll if you agree. breathe if you agree.
#source: he’s me#daniel cain#dan cain#reanimator#bride of re animator#bride of reanimator#re animator#reanimator 1985#bride of reanimator 1990#herbert west#meg halsey#jeffrey combs#ocd#moral ocd#obsessive compulsive disorder#ocd headcanon
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#🤍🤍🤍#things and such#i#love#ya’aburnee#by#halsey#song#lyrics#quotes#words#spilled ink#spilled thoughts#prose#poetry#writing#literature#source: pinterest
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I'm not working on sick people, I'm working on hurt young people- Dr. Halsey after kidnapping 75 children, brainwashing them, pumping them full of drugs, and stuffing them into soldier suits
#halo#halo shitpost#dr halsey#halo halsey#source: mash#despite being obsessed with war media i am anti war#mash really makes you hate war#more young people should watch it#especially with halo and cod making war look glamorous#war is just killing people
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purple haze
(https://pin.it/40ov4wR)
#source: pintrest#i love pinterest#pinterest pins#pinterest pictures#pinterest board#pinterest#purple#halsey#halsey moodboard#badlands moodboard#badlands#2014 tumblr#2014 grunge#2014 aesthetic#2014 revival#grunge tumblr#bring back 2014#2015 grunge#2014 music#2013 tumblr#2k14 tumblr#old tumblr#tumblrpost#social media#colors
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You were red and you liked me 'cause I was blue
But you touched me and suddenly I was a lilac sky
And you decided purple just wasn't for you
#this is a girlblog#im just a girl#just girly things#girl rotting#girlcore#blue#red#purple#lila sky#halsey#song lyrics#everything is blue#source: pintrest
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Just some silly little studies of the mark armors
#taken from Halsey’s journal#great source for doodling Spartans#hehe#still can’t draw a spartan tho#LMAO#DOODLES#study#Spartans#halo
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antidepressants? no. doctors prescribed ketamine therapy + pair it with luke's entire discography on repeat
#fun fact though ketamine therapy works by making your brain more. plastic. it's a bit like psychadelics in a way#so (apparently. i haven't tried it yet SUPER inaccessible in australia (fans take note)) you work through your traumas in early sessions#and hey! i know exactly what albums to listen to during that process#then a lot of people journal and do talk therapy in between treatments for most effectiveness and later in the process#setting new habits while your brain is in flux!! a really good way of getting into what you know is good for you#so. i feel like i could do up like. a plan of 5sosverse albums for each week into ketamine therapy by now lmao#i did some external research but most of my data source for this is halsey and she is (obviously) Always Right#so obviously gotta throw in some halsey albums in there#anyway here's my science lesson of the day#depression#(implied at least)#ketamine therapy#luke hemmings#man it feels weird tagging it like that#just don't be weird about it#5 seconds of summer#5sos#ashton irwin#calum hood#michael clifford#boy ep#wfttwtaf
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Beautiful Stranger | Azriel
Azriel x Reader | Azriel gets injured while on a mission and meets someone he never thought he would. aka you finding an injured Az and the mating bond snapping.
warnings: mentions injuries and blood; other than that, this is light & fluff
word count: 4,342
a/n: I love Halsey's Finally//Beautiful Stranger & when it came on my shuffle while driving, this fic played out in my mind.
Humming quietly to yourself to keep your thoughts occupied, you allow the glow of the moon and fireflies to guide you back to the village. Dawn Court was your home, but after the fall of Spring, you had volunteered to help its fae, creatures, and land heal from the devastation left by Hybern’s attacks.
Though the damage to Spring was immense, its beauty still endured. The air still held a lingering heaviness but the flowers had begun to bloom once more with promise and hope of a better future. Your task today had been to gather healing herbs, yet when you stumbled upon a field of dandelions in full bloom, you couldn’t resist the urge to stop and admire the scenery. It was why you were returning late at night, long past the sunset you had promised to return by.
As you made your way along the path, the gentle breeze grew colder and sharper. It rustled the leaves on the trees and made the branches creak, its eerie sound halting your steps and silencing your humming. A chill of unease prickled your skin and your muscles tensed in alarm.
Then you saw them.
Shadows, darker than the night itself, swirling around you.
These were not the shadows you were used to seeing at night. No, these shadows felt alive and with purpose.
You should’ve turned back. But there was something in the way they moved, fluid and insistent, that made you follow. With every step, they guided you away from the familiar moonlit path and deeper into the forest, pulling you toward the river that ran through the heart of the woods.
A flicker of blue light was coming from just beyond the tree line, catching your eye. Curiosity tugged at you, drawing you closer. The shadows slithered toward the faint glow, vanishing into the darkness by the water’s edge.
When you finally reached the riverbank, your breath hitched at the sight before you.
A male lay sprawled on the shore, half-submerged in the water, his blood mingling with the river’s water. Blinking your eyes, you saw the shadows that led you to him, clinging to his battered form and limp wings. They pulsed in a protective manner. It’s then that you recognized the source of the blue light. It was coming from the gems attached to the leathers he wore.
Siphons. He must be Illyrian…but what was an Illyrian from the Night Court doing in Spring? Alone?
It didn’t matter. You immediately rushed and knelt beside him, your healer’s instincts snapping into action. Your finger’s pressed against his neck, mind racing with worry and dread as his skin felt cold against yours. He must’ve been out for awhile now. The nerves eased slightly when you felt a pulse.
Weak but present.
You slipped your arms beneath him, the shadows aiding you as they wrapped around his arms, helping you turn him over to his side. His dark hair clung to his face, your hand reaching up to brush it back.
Your eyes finally met the face of the fallen warrior and something snapped.
So piercing and electrifying, it had your heart fluttering from the intensity. All at once, the golden threads of the bond you’d only heard stories about unraveled in your chest. They weaved between your rib cage, pulling you tight toward him. A pull so strong it left you breathless and in shock.
Fate and shadows had brought him to you. Your mate.
But the exhilaration of it all was soon smothered by panic, the golden threads beginning to quiver. His blood, too much of it, stained the riverbank. His body was limp in your arms, his breathing shallow.
You had found your mate and already, you were on the verge of losing him before you could even learn his name.
**
Azriel wakes to the sound of singing, a nice and sweet sound, and he catches faintly to the words. He’s never felt so warm, so relaxed. His senses are dulled by grogginess, his body sluggish, but something feels… different. Lighter, somehow.
Beside him, his shadows stir, the familiar weight of their presence grounding him. But there's also something else— different from the cool and light caresses of his shadows. Firmer. Warmer. The pressure is foreign but comforting.
As his senses slowly return, the scent of herbs and incense reach him before his eyes flutter open. Where am I? He thinks, finally blinking his eyes to clear his vision.
The first thing he sees is you, the source of the beautiful singing.
Light streams into the room, casting a golden halo around you. It strikes him hard, stealing his breath and sending a shock through his chest. He doesn’t know who you are, what you are. But you’re beautiful, so beautiful that his brows furrow in bewildered awe. There’s no way, he thinks. I don’t belong here…
He wills his dry lips to part, his voice is rough and barely audible. “Am I…dead?”
Your eyes widen and your singing comes to a sudden stop, startled by his sudden words. The warmth he felt vanishes as you pull your hand back, and only then does he realize it had been your touch on his face earlier. Your hand hovers between you, glowing faintly with a bronze light, like the first rays of dawn, before you settle it into your lap.
“No,” you finally answer. “You’re not dead.”
Azriel tears his gaze from your face, even though some part of him protests. His eyes wander around the small room, taking in the sparse furniture, the wooden desk cluttered with jars and vials. The sunlight continues to stream through the single window, the curtain hanging doing little to dull the brightness thanks to the Spring breeze. It blinds him when it catches his eyes and he winces, looking away.
His attention is inevitably drawn back to you. You’re seated beside him, perched on a small stool that does not look comfortable by the bed. His shadows, the loyal dark tendrils that always remain by his side, are dancing around you. Their movement is playful, loving almost and you don’t seem bothered by it. As if they’ve done this before.
The sight stirs an unfamiliar flutter in his chest.
The flutter is cut short when one of his wings, too big for the bed he’s in, twitches and knocks into the bedside table. A vial tumbles to the floor, the sound of shattering glass jerking his body forward, and in an instant, the memories come rushing back.
He remembers the mission. Rhysand had sent him to the wall separating the mortal lands from Prythian. He had met with Jurian, the encounter brief, and then he was on his way back—flying over the Spring Court when he was ambushed. His mind aches as he tries to remember more but all he remembers is being struck by poisoned arrows and falling through trees. Multiple trees.
Hot, searing pain stabs through him at the sudden movement and your hands fly to his bandaged chest, gently urging him to sit back. “You’re safe,” you reassure him. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
Azriel shouldn’t feel comforted by your words, not when he barely knows you. However, he finds your voice soothing. He listens, allowing himself to slowly lean back against the pillows, despite his mind screaming at him that you’re a stranger. Your hands remain on his chest, glowing again with that soft bronze light, and the sharp pain in his body begins to ebb away, fading into a dull ache. Much more bearable.
His shadows return to him, sighing with relief as they nestle close. Azriel watches you, keen hazel eyes taking in more of your features. The curve of your lips, the softness of your eyes. They draw him in, and he finds himself unable to look away. Had it not been for the pain that shot through him moments ago, he would’ve thought you lied to him about not being dead. Because surely you weren’t from this world to have him in a daze like this…
“Who are you?”
“I’m…,” you hesitate, uncertainty crossing your features. He watches with bated breath, waiting but the words seem to catch in your throat. You swallow, clearing your throat before speaking again. “I’m just a healer.”
“And here I thought you were an angel from above.”
A quiet laugh escapes you, and the tension in your posture melts away. The corner of your lips tug up into a faint smile, one that Azriel surprisingly finds himself mirroring. “Sorry to disappoint.”
He doesn’t think. The words spill from him before he can stop them. “I didn’t say I was disappointed.”
The flush that dawns across your cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed. You turn your head, trying to hide the reaction. It’s too late. Azriel already saw it and even if he hadn’t, his shadows are happily gushing over it. Some, the ones not distracted by your beauty, curled around his ear and whispered about the emotion lingering on your face, in your eyes.
There was more you meant to say. Words left unsaid and he wants to know, the curiosity and yearning bordering on desperate. His gaze assesses you again, searching for an answer. For a hint. His shadows continue to whisper. Good, they say reassuringly, sensing no danger or malintent in you. We found her for you!
She saved master's life. Master was out for three days and she stayed by master’s side. She’s–
“What’s your name?” You ask, pulling him from the silent conversation with his shadows.
Azriel is not one to give his name so easily, often going by what he was–a Shadowsinger– rather than who he was. He’s also not one to dwell in places he’s unfamiliar with longer than necessary. But you saved his life and for some strange reason, his shadows had taken an immediate liking to you. They seem to trust you and therefore, so does he.
“Azriel.”
“Azriel,” you repeat and his shadows shudder in response, as though they, too, are captivated by the sound of it on your lips. His stomach flutters in time with their movement.
“What about yours?”
“Y/n.”
“Y/n,” he says, repeating your name the same way you had his. His shadows dance in the air around you both.
**
It’s late morning, as you pick up the empty plate from him, that he feels the familiar sensation of talons scraping against his mind. Azriel?? Rhysand’s voice is urgent, the frantic panic of it making him wince. Your head immediately turns in concern and Azriel brushes it off with a small shake of his head.
I’m alive. Azriel responds, his answer curt as he’s once again distracted by your presence.
Thank The Mother, Rhysand breathes a sigh of relief. Where are you? Are you somewhere safe? Do you need me to–
I’m fine. I was attacked while flying through Spring.
Who? Rhysand demands.
Given the fact that whoever ambushed me has made no move to find me and finish the job, I’d say no one of importance. Azriel replies, lips curving into a small frown at the thought of being caught off guard and attacked. It rarely happened, his shadows always keeping him one step ahead of anyone and anything. Had they been distracted…?
He turns his head, searching for the shadows in question. Some remained with him, choosing to burrow under the blankets. The others, however, were hovering at your side and helping you clean up from breakfast. One even opens the door for you and he hears you murmur a small thanks as you leave the room.
Azriel had spent most of the afternoon sleeping. He didn’t want to, not liking the idea of being in such a vulnerable state with someone he barely knew. It’s not that he suspected you’d harm him or had bad intentions–you literally saved his life for Cauldron’s sake! It was just a feeling he was not used to. To be able to sleep safe and sound.
When he woke up again, it was a brand new day. He realized the bandages on his chest and arm had been changed. He was slowly gathering his strength back. One of his shadows must’ve given him away because shortly after he woke, you had walked in with a friend.
“Wow,” the dark haired fae murmured, her steps faltering. Her eyes had widened in wonder, taking in the large expanse of his wings that made the bed look ridiculously small. “The Cauldron truly favors you.”
Azriel’s gaze couldn’t help but narrow. Those words had been directed at you, not him.
You’d introduced her as Poppy, explaining she was your friend, another healer whose family had taken you in. Poppy had left shortly after setting a steaming bowl of stew on the table right next to the bed. She had been adamant on letting him know her mother had made it and not you, which he found odd.
Azriel was surprised to learn this was your room and you’d given it up for him. He tried to protest, offering to sleep on the couch or floor. Of course, you had refused and he was even more surprised to learn you were more stubborn than he was.
Where are you in Spring? Rhysand’s presence in his mind pulls him back to the present. He hopes he hadn’t accidentally projected his memory to his friend, wanting to keep it to himself for now. I can send Cassian, if you’re unable to fly.
No. Azriel responds immediately and he can feel Rhysand’s confusion. I’m alive and safe. I just need more time to recover.
And without waiting for a response, Azriel brings up his mental shields again, shutting Rhysand out. He can only hope he doesn’t send Feyre knocking on his mind next. Or worse, actually send Cassian to Spring, despite him saying not to.
He should’ve said yes, and accepted the help. The Spring Court was among the least favorite of his courts, in tie with the Autumn Court. He had a strong distaste for the High Lord, who remained wandering through his forests like a beast.
As you return to the room, Azriel catches sight of a faint glow wrapped around your wrist. He hadn’t seen it before, the glow of your magic outshining the gold ink etched there. A sun, cradled by a crescent moon, and below the moon, a fine lined star glimmers, connecting the two celestial bodies with its ray of starshine.
“You’re far from home.” Azriel comments, nodding toward the tattoo.
“So are you,” you answer, lips turning up at the slight flush that takes over Azriel. You then glance down at the tattoo on your wrist. The insignia of your Court with the added touch of your healing gift. The tattoo was an honor, a testimony of the oath you had taken after mastering your magic. “I came to Spring to help after the war.”
“Will you go back home after?” He asks, a little too quickly, then clears his throat. His shadows snicker beside him in a knowing manner. “Or will you stay here?”
“I’ll stay here as long as I’m needed.”
He doesn’t understand why but a part of him feels relieved that you’re not attached to this court.
“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need,” you then add.
He feels an odd sense of relief, and his shadows give a little wiggle in excitement. He sends them a glare, and they sheepishly return to hiding under the covers. Though one brave shadow lingers by his side long enough to whisper, you'll find out soon Master.
“They’re cute," your voice pulls him from questioning his teasing shadow.
Azriel lets out a snort, the effort making his chest and stomach ache. Cute. His shadows had been called many things—strange, unnerving, even unsettling—but never cute. They typically clung to him, weaving around his form quietly, careful not to disturb anyone. Unless he sent them on a mission of their own or they had a mission of their own.
Occasionally, they’d make an exception for Cassian, creeping up behind him just to tap his shoulder and bask in his exasperation when he turned to find nothing there. They’d even tried their luck with Rhysand once, though he was never fooled. Yet, for reasons Azriel couldn’t fathom, his shadows had taken an immediate liking to you, drifting toward you whenever they could.
The said shadows peek out from under the covers, almost shyly. If they could blush, he’s sure they would be at this moment. They're never going to forget this moment.
“I wouldn’t call them cute,” Azriel replies, ignoring their indignant hisses.
Conversation flows easily between you two from there, Azriel giving into his curiosity to know and learn more about you. Much to his surprise, Azriel indulged you in your questions, telling you about his shadows and things about himself he rarely told others. They were small, trivial things such as his exact favorite shade of blue and his biggest pet peeve. Yet you held onto every word, every detail and it felt strangely comforting.
Two more days passed, Azriel’s body still healing. Slowly but surely. You had been able to recover one of the arrows that had shot him. Not that it mattered. Azriel was now, unfortunately, familiar with the effects of faebane. It hindered his healing and though it was frustrating, there was one upside to it all–the friendship blossoming between you and Azriel.
There’s a knock on the door as you mix Azriel’s concoction for pain. “Yes?” You call out.
Poppy peeks her head in. “I was just checking to see if I had given you enough spearmint for the pain tonic and also to let you know that we’ll be out most of the day. If you wanted to take out your ma—male for a walk or something without being bothered by the little ones.”
You freeze and a sheepish look takes over your features, tainting your cheeks. “Poppy,” you say her name again in what sounds like a warning. “He has a name, you know. And he doesn’t need to be taken on a walk.”
“Oh, right, Azriel,” she says, giving him a cheery wave. “Hello again!”
“Hello,” Azriel replies, shifting in the bed, despite the protests of his muscles. He’s not at all offended by Poppy, her aura too bright and cheery to be bothered. He flashes you a grin that has your grasp on the mixer faltering. “I think a walk would be nice actually.”
“Told you!” Poppy replies. “Anyway, we’ll see you for dinner. Send a butterfly if you need me.”
When the door closes, you let out a small sigh, shaking your head with a small, sheepish smile. “I’m so sorry about her.”
Azriel brushes off your concern, his eyes shining bright when he looks back at you. “How about that walk?”
**
Azriel grunts as he pushes to stand, his wings trembling as he shifts his weight, unused to bearing himself after days of bedrest. He stumbles right into your arms, his usually steady form swaying. You quickly catch him, your arms coming around one of his sides. His shadows dart toward his other side, helping you hold him upright.
“I’ve got you,” you say softly, your hold surprisingly firm.
He can't help it. He lets out a low, amused breath.
“What?” You ask.
“Usually, I’m the one saying that.”
Your lips quirk into a smile, a gleam in your eye, as you help him find his balance. “Well, even the best need someone to lean on sometimes, right?”
Azriel stares at you. Something in his chest tightens–a weird but comforting sensation. It’s similar, if not the same, to what he had felt when he first saw you. Warm and painfully sweet. The feeling reassures him that, though you were strangers mere days ago, you’re someone he can lean on.
“Come on,” you murmur, nodding toward the door.
Azriel lets you guide him through the house and out onto the porch. You settle there together, cutting the walk very short. You're mindful not to push him too far when he's still recovering. Azriel doesn't mind, the fresh air enough for him. He knows he isn’t at full strength to protect you should anything arise. Even though you most likely know these forests better than himself.
His hands drift to the porch railing as he leans forward for support, fingers curling around the edge. The sunlight glances off his scarred hands, each ridge and mark stark against his skin. He’d kept them hidden beneath the covers and out of your view while bedridden, hiding them instinctively, unable to forget the pitying glances they’d drawn in the past. Though he’s sure you must've seen them when you rescued him.
Now, as he feels your gaze slide toward them, a familiar discomfort tugs at him. He starts to withdraw his hands, wanting to tuck them closer to himself.
But you reach out. Your hand hovers, brushing slightly over his. There’s a slight hesitation—an uncertainty in whether to bridge the space or leave it. In the end, you let your hand rest gently beside his.
Azriel hesitates, unused to this vulnerability, yet unable to move away. He glances up to meet your eyes and his guarded expression softens slightly. “They’re… not easy to look at,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know they’re not.”
“I’m familiar with scars, you know. They don’t make you less of who you are.”
Azriel’s jaw tightens, his gaze dropping where your hands are barely brushing against one another. His throat feels tight, an ache he’s kept buried resurfacing.
“Not to me,” you continue. “I don’t see you any differently because of them.”
He searches your face and he sees something in your eyes that helps him slowly relax. His gaze returns to your hand, fingers hovering now over his. This time, there’s no hesitation as you gently lay your hand over his, holding it as if the scars didn’t exist at all.
It’s such a simple gesture, yet it speaks volumes.
His shadows slither down his arm and toward where your hands connect. For the first time, Azriel feels no urge to hide, no shame from the past that has long haunted him.
A silence drifts down between the two of you, settling like a blanket over the conversation. There’s no need to fill it, no awkwardness there. Just a gentle, shared peace, stretching softly around you both. He turns his head, shifting his gaze forward and takes a deep breath.
He closes his eyes and a breeze rolls in, brushing against his skin and stirring his hair. His shadows begin to whisper excitedly. He basks in the sun’s warmth, and lets the scent of spring fill his senses from the fresh earth to the blooming flowers and the faint sweetness of pollen. It brings forth a tickle in his nose, and before he can stop it, he sneezes. His body groans in response, wings shuddering.
“Bless you,” you say, but he notices the way your mouth quirks as if you’re holding back a laugh.
“What?” he asks, brows furrowing.
“I’m sorry,” you giggle, your free hand rising to stifle it. “It’s just�� you have such a fatherly sneeze.”
Azriel raises an eyebrow, a rare, amused smile creeping onto his face. “Fatherly sneeze?” He echoes. He has never heard the expression before yet he somehow understands it. If you thought his sneeze was “fatherly,” he’s curious to see your reaction to one of Cassian’s sneezes. That thought is enough to make him laugh outright.
It's so silly but the sound is so contagious that you laugh too. His shadows began to flutter around you, as if joining in on the laughter. Azriel’s gaze then drifts down, watching the way your lips curve in laughter, how your eyes crinkle at the corners, how effortlessly you draw light into his heart.
And there it is again—that rush of warmth. It’s mixed in with joy, so pure and intense it has to be coming from you. His heart stirs, his pulse quickens, his mind clears, and in a single, life-altering instant, he knows.
“You’re my mate.”
Your smile falters, replaced by a moment of hesitation. Some shadows travel to you, brushing softly against your arms as if in a reassuring manner. He can't help but watch them, realization dawning on him.
“Yeah, I am,” you admit quietly.
“How—when…” His voice catches, unable to form the words.
“I was walking through the forest when your shadows came to me. They led me to you, by the river. You were unconscious and bleeding. And then… the bond snapped for me the moment I saw your face. You were so cold and--and…,” your face tightens, eyes glistening at the memory and Azriel can feel the panic you must’ve felt then. “I’d just found what so many only dream of and you were already slipping away...I thought I’d never get to know your name…”
Azriel feels a pang deep in his chest as he absorbs every word. His chest feels tight again and he swallows thickly. “And when I woke up, why didn’t you tell me?”
Your gaze falls, fingers twisting together. “I wanted you to heal, to feel better. That’s all that mattered.”
“I owe you my life.”
“You don’t owe me anything. I would’ve saved you, mate or not.”
Azriel searches your face, touched beyond words at the sincerity in your tone. It made sense why he felt so drawn to you since the moment he saw you, why his shadows took a sudden liking to you and kept whispering "we found her, we found her!" They had known all this time, been able to sense it before he even could.
Looking back, Poppy being the one to bring him food and water and not you was not as strange as he originally thought. You were being mindful, not wanting to accidentally accept the bond without his knowledge. He felt an overwhelming gratitude for how gentle and considerate you've been with him all along. He couldn’t help but wonder how he had gotten so lucky to be bound to someone like you.
“And would you have sung to me, mate or not?” Azriel asks, his mind drifting back to the exact moment he'd first woken up.
Your cheeks flush, and you glance away toward the gardens, suddenly refusing to meet his eyes. “What?” You let out a small huff. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“What did I hear?” Azriel’s tone borders on teasing, his expression shifting into one of exaggerated contemplation. “Something like… ‘Beautiful stranger, here you are…’”
“That’s enough!” You interrupt, your face turning into an even deeper shade of pink, caught somewhere between mortification and laughter.
This time, it’s Azriel holding back a chuckle. His lips curl into a small smirk, seeing the blush that lights up your face. He quite likes that shade on you—likes being the one to bring it out even more. “So…”
You keep your gaze straight ahead. “So…?”
Azriel leans in, his voice low and warm, making your stomach flutter. “Do you sing that song for just anyone too?”
“No,” you let out a laugh, your hands cup your face but there’s no hiding the blush there. “I’m afraid that song was just for you.”
“Good,” he murmurs.
You turn to look at him, realizing his gaze had never left you. Your hands drop back to the porch railing. “Yeah?” you whisper, your own heart pounding, not sure what it was you were asking.
But Azriel seems to understand anyway. He can feel what you’re feeling, now fully aware and attentive to the bond humming between you.
“Yeah,” he breathes, his smirk softening into a genuine smile, his heart finally at ease.
A gentle warmth surges through the bond, reaching every shadowed corner of his heart and wrapping around his soul. It’s a feeling he could get used to, one he’s spent centuries longing and yearning for. It’s a feeling he’s searched for in all the wrong places, enduring the heavy weight of heartbreak after heartbreak.
But now, with you, he feels the weight begin to lift. After all the empty falls and broken promises, it’s finally, finally safe for him to fall.
a/n: you can't tell me Az & Cas don't have dad sneezes lol. Anyway, I really wanted to write a fic where Az finally feels safe with someone because he deserves to. I hope you enjoyed this <3
General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444 @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho
@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe
@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits13, @lorosette
@alwayshave-faith
#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel x y/n#azriel fanfiction#azriel fluff#acotar x reader#acotar x you#acotar x y/n
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Will I always be alone in this house? Reading books that are too hard for me in the long fatherless hours?
let your dad die energy drink - daniel lavery and cecilia corrigan/bob’s burgers, 2011/family line - conan gray/@parentless-suggestions/promises of gold - jose olivarez/unknown/dna - lia marie johnson/i am angry because of my father - halsey/part of me never left that house - mada hayyas/unknown/father - demi lovato/franz kafta/unknown/primer - aaron smith/family line - conan gray/untitled - frank wright
***sorry for all of the unknowns on this one. I really do try to find the sources for everything but I kept coming up empty w these. If you know the sources pls comment/send me an ask or dm and lmk!!
#web weaving#web weave#webweaving#poetry#book quotes#lilly talks#daddy issues#childhood trauma#frank kafka#lia marie johnson#conan gray#family line conan gray#Let your dad die energy drink#poetry parallels#Parallels#female rage#anger issues#girl blogger#girl blogging#feminine rage#Lilly’s weaves#halsey
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I know you wanna go to heaven, but you're human tonight.
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If ah sees so much as a sampan, ah'll a-sink it!
Pirate Sam
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Charles Rowland: Pain, Love, Desire.
"For love is no part of the dreamworld. love belongs to Desire, and Desire is always cruel" — Death of the Endless, from The Sandman: The Doll's House.
[sources: quote by katie maria // cover for documentary film dance craze by joe massot // cover for do the dog by the specials // seasons of mists, episode 4 // vamperinee on tumblr // seasons of mists, episode 4 // dead boy detectives, episode 4 // (?) // quote by friedrich nietzsche // i would leave me if i could by halsey // dead boy detectives, episode 8 // poster for donnie darko by let's eat grandma // dead boy detectives, episode 4 // (?) // poster for do you really want to hurt me by culture club // dead boy detectives, episode 4 // poetryforall on tumblr // to the busted among us, sharks in the rivers by ada limón // a pearl by mitski // dead boy detectives, episode 1 // letter to ruth tiffanny beuscher written by sylvia plath, july, 1962 // quote by katie maria]
#dead boy detectives#charles rowland#dead boy detective agency#dc universe#charles dbda#dead boy detective netflix#netflix#payneland#paineland#jayden revri#aesthetic#quotes#lyrics#cento#web weaving#niko posts#dcu#the sandman universe#charles dead boy detectives#dbda#edwin paine#dc comics#music#gifset
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Death of the Tortured Poet
Taylor Swift and other poets in conversation with Roland Barthes's "The Death of the Author" (1967) and Michel Foucault's "What is an Author?" (1969)
I want to say thank you to @ttpds @youmeetyourself and @ohdorothea. This post would not exist were it not for your musings on the topic, our conversations, and your encouragement. Seriously, thank y'all.
Sources:
Unless otherwise noted, lyrics are from Genius and screenshots/scans/etc are from taylorpictures.net
Barthes, Roland. "The Death of the Author"
"delicate" music video
"Dear Reader" lyrics
Foucault, Michel. "What is an Author?"
"Style" music video
"mirrorball" lyrics
Barthes
Taylor Swift before singing "betty" on the Eras Tour in Glendale, AZ on March 17, 2023 (text from @cages-boxes-hunters-foxes)
Siken, Richard. "The Torn-up Road" in The Iowa Review
Promotional image for The Tortured Poets Department from Swift's social media
Savage, Mark "Midnights: What we know about Taylor Swift's songwriting" for BBC.com
Foucault
reputation prologue
Barthes
Promotional image for The Tortured Poets Department
Barthes
Halsey. "Gasoline" lyrics
"mirrorball" lyrics
Barthes
Florence & the Machine. "King" lyrics
"Dear Reader" lyrics
Foucault
"22" lyrics
Foucault
"Out of the Woods" music video
"...ready for it?" music video
"Anti-Hero" music video
"look what you made me do" music video
"if you're anything like me" from the reputation magazines
Foucault
Album covers for the Taylor's Versions of Fearless, Red, Speak Now, and 1989
Taylor Swift in Musicians on Musicians: Taylor Swift & Paul McCartney for Rolling Stone
"look what you made me do" music video
"the lakes" lyrics
Foucault
"look what you made me do" handwritten lyrics from the reputation magazines
"my tears ricochet" lyrics
Foucault
"my tears ricochet" lyrics
"look what you made me do" music video
Foucault
"hoax" lyrics
"why she disappeared" from the reputation magazines
Barthes
1989 prologue
Foucault
#alternate title: what if you got so invested in fandom discourse that you read literary theory and got really weird about it#alternate alternate title: oh michel we're really in it now#taylor swift#the tortured poets department#sydposting
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