#let the bell of solace sing

[allykakamatsu]

First Kiss

Fellas, is it gay to kiss your new homie after leaving a bunch of people for dead?

Masterpost

Buy me a coffee

Commission Prices

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

ROOM FOR RENT

PAIRING: logan howlett x female reader

RATING: explicit (18+) | WORD COUNT: 5.3k

SUMMARY: logan finds a new roommate.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i have logan howlett brain rot and i’m not sorry. big smooch to everyone who let me yell about this to them including @eupheme @pedgito @wannab-urs @chaotic-mystery @kedsandtubesocks @undrthelights and @murder-wife 💕

WARNINGS: post deadpool & wolverine, variant!logan howlett, able bodied reader, reader being picked up (enhanced strength babyyyy), roommates to lovers trope, meddlesome pet cat, a splash of canon typical violence - mentions of blood and knife wounds, wade wilson/deadpool appearances, mild angst, explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact) - dirty talk, pain kink, biting, pet names, praise kink, oral sex - m & f receiving, a little dacryphilia during a blowjob, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, begging, size kink. if i’ve missed any, please let me know!

LINKS: masterlists | support for palestine

If Logan has to wake up to Wade's constant yapping for the rest of his life, he's going to go insane. Every morning he's jolted awake by Wade singing in the kitchen. When he notices Logan is awake, the singing stops and the one-sided conversation begins and doesn't end until Logan finally gets up from the couch and leaves the apartment with nothing but the clothes on his back.

Today, with some money in his pocket from a few odd jobs he's picked up, he finds solace in a quiet coffee shop. Sat beside a bulletin board, he scans the postings.

Art show, art show, yard sale, job opening, roommate wanted, art show--

Roommate wanted? Logan tears the paper from the pin.

Room for rent in 2 bedroom/1 bathroom apartment. One cat. Laundry on site.

He folds the ad up and stuffs the paper in the pocket of his jacket before gathering his empty coffee cup and tossing it in the trash on the way out the door, an uncharacteristic spring in his step.

Your phone rings with a number you don't recognize. You consider sending it to voicemail, already exhausted from fielding similar calls about your room for rent, but ultimately decide to answer.

"Hello?"

A man clears his throat on the other end of the line before responding with, "This the number for the rental?"

"Yep," you reply. "Were you interested in seeing it or have any questions?"

"How much is it?"

"Your half would be $950.”

"And it's a whole bedroom?"

"As opposed to a half bedroom?" You laugh at your joke but the man remains quiet and you wince. "I mean, yes. It's a whole bedroom."

"I'd like to come see it, if you've got the time."

"Sure, how's this Friday sound?" You suggest. "What's your full name?"

"Why do you need to know that?" The man's tone grows defensive and alarm bells ring in your head.

"Well, I'd like to make sure you're not, like, a wanted criminal or something," you tell him with an awkward laugh. He's quiet and for a moment you think that he may have hung up on you. "Hello?"

"Yeah, 'm still here," he sighs. "Name's Logan Howlett."

"Logan Howlett," you repeat. You give him your name in return, though he doesn't do much but grunt in acknowledgment. "Alright, well, do you have something to write down the address?"

"Just tell me, I'll remember."

After listing off the address, he ends the call with a rough goodbye. You get to work on your personal research, entering his name into a search engine.

No results.

You refresh the page, thinking that must be an error, but the same message appears.

No results.

You try spelling his name differently.

No results.

You set the phone down, anxiety starting to creep up your spine. It's hard to believe that there's absolutely nothing online about this man, who now has your full address, name, and phone number.

A sharp meow shakes you from your thoughts and you find that your cat has taken up residence on your lap, staring at you intently as his tail flicks back and forth. You run your hand over his head, scratching beneath his chin.

"You'll protect me, right?" You ask.

He leaps from your lap and struts away, fluffy tail disappearing down the hall that leads to your bedroom. You sigh.

Hopefully you haven’t just done something stupid.

Logan's attempt to leave the apartment unnoticed does not go as planned. Althea is sitting on the couch, a re-run of a talk show playing loudly, when he tries to make a run for it. He's distracted, watching her too carefully that he doesn't realize Wade has just returned from god-knows-where.

"Whatcha doin', twinkle toes?" Wade asks, startling Logan, who slams into the kitchen table with a curse.

"Fucking hell," Logan curses, rubbing his hip. "When did you get in here?"

Wade shrugs. "Sometime around the start of your 007 impression."

"My what?"

"Nevermind," Wade sighs. "You look snazzy. Got a hot date?"

"No," Logan grunts.

"A cold date, then?"

Logan pinches his nose. "No."

"Well, care to share, sugar plum? What's got you sneaking around like the Black Widow?"

"The who?"

"May she rest in peace," Wade says, tone suddenly somber.

"He's tryin' to move out," Althea chimes in. Wade's mouth drops open in shock.

"You're abandoning us?!" he exclaims. "After all we've been through?"

"Let the man do what he wants," Althea says. "Damn co-dependent freak."

"Harsh," - Wade places a hand over his chest, -"you know I have daddy issues. And mommy issues. And abandonment issues. And--"

"Enough," Logan snaps. "Yes, alright? I'm looking for a new place. I can't sleep on that couch forever."

"Is it because it smells like old people?" Wade whispers, pointing an accusatory finger to Althea, who flips him off.

"Look, this is your universe. Your timeline. Mine is gone and it's time I start making this whole thing less temporary."

Wade tilts his head and places a hand on Logan's shoulder. "My little Wolvie, all grown up," he says, wiping at a fake tear. Logan shoves his hand away, storming past him for the door.

"Remember to smile! Give 'em the ol' razzle dazzle!" Wade shouts as he slams the door behind him.

You pace your small living room and check the stove clock for the hundredth time in the past five minutes. Logan is due to see the apartment and your nerves have gone from a simmer to a full blown boil waiting for the mysterious man with no digital footprint to show up. Your cat is lounging on the windowsill, blissfully unaware of your inner panic.

Three sharp knocks at the door cause your pulse to skyrocket. You take a deep breath before crossing the short distance to the door, pulling it open with a smile.

"Hi! You must be--“

Your greeting dies on your tongue as you take in the man crowding your hallway. He's wearing a leather jacket over a white tank top that stretches tightly across a broad chest and jeans that highlight thick thighs. His dark hair is cut shorter on the sides than on the top of his head, the ends fanning out in a manner that reminds you of a cat's ears and he's sporting an impressively thick beard.

"'m Logan," he says in the same deep voice you heard over the phone, holding a hand out towards you. You slip your palm against his much larger one and you're surprised by how warm his touch is.

"H-hi," you stutter, shaking his hand. You clear your throat. "Sorry, hi. Uh, come on in."

You move aside to let him through the doorway, not missing the fact that his shoulders practically brush the frame as he steps inside. Your apartment opens up directly into the living room and kitchen with a small dining area set in between and you gesture around.

"Well, this is most of it, to be honest. I know it's not much but--"

"It's quiet," Logan interrupts. "Ain't used to quiet."

"Where, uh," -- you twist the hem of your shirt -- "where are you coming from? Exactly?"

"Kind of a long story. Right now I sleep on a couch in a shitty one bedroom apartment shared by an asshole who doesn't shut the fuck up and a blind cocaine addict."

"Oh," you reply, nodding despite your lack of understanding. "Yeah, it's just me here. Well, and Dumpling."

"Dumpling?"

As if summoned by his name, your cat appears, making a swift beeline for the newcomer. He twists around Logan's legs, butting his head against his shins. You bend down, scooping him up in your arms.

"This is Dumpling. He's cute, but he'll knock over any plants so I wouldn't recommend you take up indoor gardening if you decide to live here." Logan eyes Dumpling warily before holding a hand out. Dumpling sniffs his fingers daintily and rubs head against his palm. "I think he likes you."

Logan huffs, the sound close to a laugh, and it makes you smile. He looks up at you and for a moment you forget that you're complete strangers who have just met. He feels inexplicably familiar, his presence comforting, and you're surprised by it.

"Let's look at the bedroom," you finally say, breaking the moment. You turn, heading for the hall and he follows behind you, steps surprisingly light for such a large man. You take him to the last door at the end of the hall and enter the empty room. "This is it. It's kind of small, but all the rooms in New York are pretty much shoe boxes. It's got a closet and access to the fire escape, though.”

"Better than the couch," he says, looking around the room. "You said $950?"

"Plus half of the utilities," you add. He nods.

"Look, I'll be honest. I'm...between jobs right now." He sighs. "And my schedule can be...unpredictable."

"Oh," you mumble. You think about it for a moment. Renting the apartment to Logan would be a risk but...you can't help but notice that exhaustion in his eyes, how it's clear he's trying to get back on his feet in one way or another. "That's okay. We can work something out."

He raises an eyebrow at you. "Really? You sure about that?"

Were you?

"Yeah," you reply. "I'm sure."

Having a roommate is...an adjustment.

Logan is great. He does his dishes in a timely manner, doesn't leave any clothes on the bathroom floor, and even cleans Dumpling's litter box from time to time.

But he drives you insane and it has nothing to do with his qualities as a roommate and everything to do with how unbearably attractive he is. He could be doing the most mundane activity and suddenly you're more turned on than a faucet on full blast. On top of it all, he's surprisingly sweet for such a gruff man.

Currently, you're watching him pour himself a glass of whiskey. You know he's probably preparing to take the drink to his room so that he can have a cigar on the fire escape, but you find yourself wanting his company.

"Logan?" you ask. He looks at you over his shoulder.

"Yeah, bub?"

"Would you...want to watch a movie? With me?"

He turns to fully face you, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of his drink, dark eyes on you over the rim of the glass. You swallow nervously, prepared to retract your offer and hide out in your room for the rest of eternity, but he puts you out of your misery.

"Sure." He comes over to the couch, taking a seat that's a respectable distance away. "What are we watching?"

"Have you seen The Greatest Showman?"

A musical. He's sitting through a goddamn musical.

"You kinda look like that guy," you say from beside him. Logan tilts his head.

"I don't see it."

"It's the bone structure."

"I'm bigger than him." You mumble something under your breath that he doesn't quite catch, though he thinks it sounded suspiciously like yeah, you are. "You say somethin'?"

"Huh?" You shake your head. "No, nope. Didn't say anything."

Logan relaxes against the back of the couch, settling in. You're curled up against the armrest, a blanket covering your legs and your arms wrapped around a throw pillow. You look relaxed, at ease, a stark contrast to how you had been when he first moved in. You spent more of your time hidden in your room and he's happy to see you're getting more comfortable around him.

It's also torture. You're like a drug that he can't get enough of, a high that doesn't last long enough. He clings desperately to every smile you grace him with and falls asleep with the sound of your voice echoing in his head. He wakes up looking forward to seeing you, even if it's just in passing before you head out for your very normal job as part of your very normal life.

That's what gives him pause. You're not like him, not built for violence, and he would never drag you into that life. He thinks about Vanessa and Wade and the wedge that was driven between them they're working to repair and he can't bear the thought of having you just to lose you.

Logan's so lost in his own thoughts he doesn't realize that the movie has ended and you haven't moved. Your head is angled in a way that has to be uncomfortable, your mouth dropped open as you breathe slowly and deeply. He grabs the remote from the coffee table and turns the TV off, plunging the room into darkness as he stands and quietly approaches you.

He slides one arm beneath your knees and using the other to support your back, lifts you from the couch. You settle your head against his chest but otherwise your sleep remains undisturbed as he carries you down the hall into your room.

It's not the first time he's been in your personal space. One time he woke up to Dumpling clawing at his chest and he marched the animal back to your room for the night, barging in on you while you had been up reading. He remembers the queen sized bed in a wooden frame and a dresser with a drawer that won't shut take up most of the space, the plain white of your walls replaced by a soft blue. You've installed what he first thought were regular shelves but later learned are meant for Dumpling to use for late night acrobatics that he can sometimes hear from his room.

Logan sets you gently on your bed and pulls the quilt up to your shoulders. Before he can think better of it, he reaches a hand toward your face, tracing his thumb over the high point of your cheek. You turn towards the sensation, chasing his touch, and his chest grows tight. He sighs, stepping back and turning for the door.

Dumpling sits in the doorway, flicking his tail. Logan steps around him into the hallway, the cat's gaze following him.

"Shut up," he whispers.

Dumpling meows in return.

You're disoriented when you wake the next morning. The last thing you remember is being on the couch with Logan and watching The Greatest Showman, but somehow you've ended up in your room. You turn over in bed to find Dumpling on your other pillow, curled in a ball.

"Morning, Dumpy," you murmur, scratching his head. "How'd we end up here?"

Dumpling blinks unhelpfully at you before uncurling from his spot and hopping from the bed, leaving through your open door. It's then that you notice that you can hear grunting noises coming from the living room.

You get up to investigate and stop dead in your tracks, mouth dropping open when you find the source of the noise is a shirtless Logan doing push ups on the living room floor. The broad muscles of his back ripple with each movement, each push accompanied by a small grunt that makes your thighs clench together, imagining him making that noise when--

Logan stops, jumping to his feet and you shake your head free of the salacious image it began to create. He turns, giving you an uninhibited view of his thick chest that's covered in dark hair that trails down over defined abs before disappearing beneath the elastic of his sweatpants. You have to say something, anything, but your brain is full of static, unable to operate when he's standing there looking like that.

"Morning," he says.

"Good morning!" you reply, voice pitched higher than usual. You walk past him in a way you hope is casual, heading for the kitchen and prepping the coffee machine. "You got any plans today?"

"Got a friend who needs my help with something. Don't know when I'll be back." His voice is much closer than you expected and you turn from the counter to find him right behind you, a scant few inches of space between your bodies.

"Oh?" you whisper, keeping your gaze firmly on his face. "Is everything okay?"

"It will be."

He drifts impossibly closer, chest nearly brushing yours. Your heart pounds in your chest, a frantic rhythm that's become familiar ever since Logan entered your life. Reaching above your head, he grabs two mugs in one large hand, setting them on the counter behind you before taking a step back and turning to head for his room without another glance in your direction.

You sag against the counter, a wave of lust addled adrenaline crashing over you and leaving you breathless. The last thing you need to be doing is getting involved with your roommate, no matter how tempting he may be.

Dumpling jumps up on the counter beside the coffee pot and stares at you, likely waiting for food, but it feels more like judgment in his green eyes.

"Shut up," you whisper to him.

Dumpling meows, batting you with a paw.

You're sitting on the couch when there's an unexpected knock at your door. Logan is still gone, helping a friend and you're not expecting anyone, so you’re not sure who it could be. You check the peephole before opening the door and see the distorted image of a man in a red suit and mask supporting the weight of your roommate against his side.

"What the fuck?" you ask as you open the door in a panicked rush. The masked man waves his fingers at you.

"Hi there! I've got a very," -- he grunts, adjusting his grip on Logan -- "heavy delivery."

Logan's eyes are closed, head flopped back on the masked man's shoulder. Blood stains his t-shirt in spots that look suspiciously like knife wounds and you gasp.

"What happened to him?!" you shout. "Oh my god, he needs to go to the hospital--"

"He just needs a little power nap," the man says. "I'm Wade, by the way. You mind if I just--"

Wade drags Logan through the apartment, depositing him on your couch with a huff, wiping his hands together. He looks around and you're shocked when the eyes of the mask seem to move, as if mimicking his facial expressions.

"This is a nice place," he says. Dumpling meows and Wade gasps. "You have a cat?! I wish I could pet you, sweet kitty, but Dogpool would put me in the dog house. Ha! Get it?"

"I'm confused," you manage to say. "My roommate is bleeding out on my couch after being dropped off by some wanna-be Avenger--"

"Ouch!"

"And you're saying he doesn't need to go to the emergency room?"

"Nope." Wade lifts Logan's shirt. "See? Good as new."

Despite the blood and tears on his shirt, there's no wounds on Logan's body. He shifts, lifting an arm to smack Wade's hand away as he groans, eyes fluttering open. He glares at the man.

"Get out," he growls.

"Now, now, that's not being a very good host, Logi. What, were you raised by wolves?" Wade replies. Logan roars, a ferocious sound that's more animal than man. His hand curls into a fist and sharp metal blades extend from between his knuckles. "Okay, okay, I'm leaving, no need for the murder mittens." Wade looks at you. "You should come to Sunday dinner!"

"Wilson!" Logan shouts. Wade finally heeds the man's warnings, rushing for the door without another word, shutting it behind him. Logan sags against the couch, blades retracting into his hand. He tilts his head back, closing his eyes.

You stand there in shock, trying to make sense of everything you just witnessed. Logan should be halfway to dead by now, but he doesn't even have a scratch on him. He has claws. How does he have claws?

"Can hear you thinking," Logan says, eyes still shut. "Just say it."

"Say what?" you ask. He lifts his head.

"Tell me to get out, scream, whatever it is."

You sit down on the couch, facing him. "Why would I do that?"

"Because that's what you should be doing."

His hand rests on his thigh and you reach for it, lifting it to eye level for a closer look at his knuckles. You trace your thumb over the smooth skin, up over his strong forearm. He watches you, face almost pained.

"I'm not scared of you," you whisper. "You wouldn't hurt me."

"But I could," he bites back.

"You won't." You're certain of that. You set his hand back on his thigh and stand from the couch, intending to grab him a glass of water from the kitchen, but he stops you with a hand around your wrist. His grip is loose enough that you could break free, but you don't.

Logan looks up at you with an unreadable expression, something close to fear mixed with a conflicting emotion that you think -- or hope -- might be desire. He tugs your wrist, bringing you to stand between his legs.

"How can you be so sure?" he asks.

You place your hand on his cheek, the coarse hair of his beard scratching at your palm. His eyelids flutter and his lips part on a sharp inhale.

"You're a good man, Logan Howlett," you murmur. He closes his eyes tightly and takes a deep breath.

His next movements are quick -- a hand on the back of your thigh, dragging you onto his lap, the other wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you close, his lips capturing yours in a savage kiss. You melt into him, meeting his urgency with your own desperation, tongues tangling together and fighting for dominance.

You pull back to trail kisses across his jaw until you reach his neck, sinking your teeth into the tan skin, just over his hammering pulse. Logan groans, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, pulling you tightly against him as his hips buck into yours.

"Fuck," Logan says, voice a deep rumble that you feel to your marrow. "Do that again."

"Do what?" you tease.

"Bite me," he demands. "Make it hurt."

You obey, biting down into his shoulder with greater effort, sinking your teeth in deep until he hisses from the pain of it and you let go, lifting your head to look at the mark you've left behind. It fades quickly, disappearing without a trace.

"Jesus," he says, pulling you in for another kiss, slow and deep, as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "Let me see you."

You allow him to lift your shirt up and over your head, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. His touch makes you shiver despite the heat of his hands as he traces the curve of your waist up to your chest, his thumbs finding your nipples and teasing them with slow circles. You drop your head back with a moan and he takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, your collarbone, moving down until his lips wrap around one taut bud.

"Logan," you whine, digging your fingers into his hair and holding tight. He hums, the sensation making your eyes roll.

"Thought about this," he murmurs, switching to your other breast. "Every time you'd wear those goddamn tight shirts of yours."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"Wanna know what I thought about?" You tug his hair, pulling his head away from your chest. "Sucking your cock."

He raises his eyebrow at you and you take the opportunity to slide from his lap, settling on your knees between his spread thighs. You work his belt loose, followed by the fly of his jeans. He reaches past the waistband to free his cock and your mouth waters at the sight. You could tell he was big while you were on his lap, but he's even more glorious than you imagined. Thick, long, with prominent veins and a slight upward curve that you know will hit all the right places.

You take him in your hand, appreciating the weight of him in your palm as you hold him steady. With your eyes locked on his face, you open your mouth and stick out your tongue to lick from the top of your fingers to the flushed head. He groans, his hand curling into a fist that he presses to his forehead.

"Fuck," Logan hisses. You do it again, this time swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him into your mouth, moving down his length slowly. "God, look at you. Mouth stuffed so full you're drooling, huh?"

He's right. Spit gathers at the corners of your lips and runs down your chin as you use your mouth to pleasure him. The sounds he makes above you are downright filthy, deep moans and filthy praise that have you moving faster, taking him deeper, working to get as much of him in your mouth as you manage without gagging. He cups your cheek with one large palm, thumb tracing your stretched lips.

"Keep going, sweetheart. You can take a little more, can't you? That's it," he says. Tears burn your cheeks with the effort to obey, your throat tightening around the head of his cock. "Fuck, that's a good girl."

You breathe deeply through your nose, maintaining a steady pace and using your hand in tandem with your mouth for what you can't easily take. Logan's hips begin to flex beneath you, his words trailing off into guttural growls. His cock twitches in your grasp and he moans your name before his release floods your mouth and you swallow it down.

You pull off of him with a slick pop, gasping for breath. Before you can say anything, Logan is hauling you to your feet as he stands from the couch, lifting you up with one strong arm beneath your ass and urging your legs around his waist.

"What are you doing?" you ask.

"Just getting started."

Logan kicks the door open to your room, startling Dumpling from his perch. The cat races out the door, disappearing into the living area as the door clicks shut. He sets you down on your bed and quickly rids himself of his boots and rest of his clothing before returning his attention to you.

You're lying there in your little sleep shorts that drive him nuts. The fabric barely covers your ass and there's been more than one occasion where he's shuffled into the kitchen in the mornings to see you in them, all the blood in his body rushing south at the sight. He joins you on the bed, on his knees between your spread thighs, and extends a single claw. Your eyes widen, but you don't pull away. In fact, you start squirming, hips flexing minutely against the mattress.

"Scared yet?" he asks.

"I wouldn't say that.”

He carefully slips the blade beneath the hem of your shorts, inching it up until it peeks out above the elastic waistband before twisting his wrist and slicing through the fabric like it's nothing. Claw retracted, he removes your ruined shorts and takes a moment to appreciate the vision you make, legs spread wide and your dripping pussy on display.

"You're a mess," he says, smoothing his hands over the soft skin of your legs. He lifts one of your knees, pressing a kiss to the inside of it before resting it on his shoulder. "Gonna clean you up."

Logan dips his head to your center, dragging his tongue through your soaked sex, groaning when the taste of you blooms across his tongue. Your fingers curl against his scalp, a sharp point of pleasure-pain as he explores your body. He swirls his tongue over your clit, experimenting with broad circles and sharp flicks until you're writhing beneath him.

"Logan," you cry, hips bucking against his face. He dips his tongue into your cunt, nose brushing your clit as he does, and he hums in satisfaction as your thighs tense around his head.

He looks up at you and drinks in the picture you make, gorgeous skin glistening with sweat and your back arched from the bed, chest heaving with desperate breaths. He wants this exact moment burned into his memory, certain it could chase away the dark shadows that linger there.

Logan presses two fingers to your hole, sliding them in with little resistance. You're so warm and tight, squeezing his fingers beautifully, calling out his name as he curls them when he drags them from your body.

"I'm going to come," you gasp. "Oh, fuck, just like that!"

You pulse around his fingers and he slows his movements to work you through it until you collapse against the mattress with a deep sigh. He carefully removes his hand and sits up on his knees.

"Guess I made more of a mess," Logan says. Your eyes squeeze shut with a breathless giggle.

"I'll forgive you," you reply. You reach your arms up for him and he moves to hover over you to accept your embrace. "God, Logan," you murmur, tilting your chin up to kiss him.

In this position, he's able to drag his cock through the slick mess between your thighs and you shiver beneath him, gasping into his mouth. He does it again, more purposeful this time and it drags a moan from you both.

"Please," you murmur.

"Please what, sweetheart? Tell me what you want," he replies. "What you need."

"Need you to fuck me."

Logan reaches between your bodies and positions the thick head of his cock at your entrance, pushing forward. The stretch of him is unreal, almost too much even with how wet you are for him.

"Relax," he says, holding himself steady above you. "You can take it."

You nod and he pushes forward another inch, letting you adjust, and repeating the process until the coarse hair at the base of his cock tickles your sensitive skin. You've never been so full, no other experience compares to this. No other man compares to Logan, in any way.

He starts moving slowly, dragging his hips back until you're nearly empty before plunging back inside. Each thrust puts stars in your vision, makes the knot of want and need coil tighter in your lower belly, until you're moaning his name and begging him to move faster, harder, deeper.

Logan obeys, thrusting into you with enough force that your head board collides with the wall. He sits back on heels, dragging you up with him until you're sitting in his lap and he's able to thrust up into you.

"Feel so fucking good," he says, lips against your neck. "Need you to come for me, baby."

You nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and holding him close, meeting each of his thrusts with a rock of your hips that drags your clit against him, your nerves buzzing with the friction and fullness. While the orgasm he wrenched from you with his mouth felt like a wildfire, this one builds and builds, a wave cresting until it finally crashes and you cry out his name.

Logan leans forward to drop you back onto the bed, reaching a hand up to grip your headboard as he continues to roll his hips into yours, chasing his own release. His thrusts begin to grow more desperate until he presses in deep and you're flooded with warmth as he growls, long and low. The sound of splintering wood breaks through your post-orgasmic haze and you tilt your head back to find that his claws have extended through your headboard, splitting the wood and embedding into the drywall.

"I can fix that," Logan says breathlessly, tugging his hand free, claws retracting. You grin at him.

"Later," you reply, pulling him in for a kiss.

You've got better things to do right now.

Thank you so much for reading! For more of my writing, check out my masterlists!

[justgiulia]

Echoes of The Abyss

Orpheus!Dan Heng x Eurydice!gn reader

Summary: Dan Heng’s world shatters when you, his only solace, are lost to death. Desperate, he descends into the Abyss to bring you back.

Warnings: Major character death.

Author's notes: This is based off Orhpeus and Eurydice's myth. I hope you'll enjoy this <3

Dan Heng was a sensitive musician and poet who accompanied his verses with the sweet sound of the lyre. At his song, the beasts came out of their dens and became tame and the devastating forces of nature lost their fury. But Dan Heng did not boast: grateful, he thanked the Aeons.

When you had met Dan Heng for the first time, he was a mystery few dared to unravel. Yet, you were persistent, breaking through his carefully constructed walls with your genuine curiosity and unrelenting kindness. Where others saw a stoic enigma, you saw a man carrying the weight of his past in silence.

Over time, he began to let you in. You found solace in his presence, and he found peace in yours. He would read you fragments of ancient poems, his voice low and steady, and play melodies on his lyre that seemed to echo the sorrow etched in his soul.

Then came the day everything unraveled.

A mission gone awry, a poisoned blade and you were gone. Dan Heng had been there, holding you as your life slipped away, the light in your eyes dimming like a candle snuffed out by the wind.

"Stay with me"

He had begged, his voice breaking in a way it never had before.

He called you with all his strength, but you were dead.

The young man, as if mad, wandered aimlessly for days and days. He prayed in vain to the wild beasts to kill him. He sang his anguish to the trees, to the birds, but nothing could calm his pain.

The universe did not bargain with love.

And then, the rumors began—whispers of a place beyond the veil of death, where souls lingered, waiting for those brave or desperate enough to find them. The Path of the Abyss was treacherous, but If there was a chance to bring you back, he would take it.

The Abyss was vast. He walked for a long time and his singing moved the souls of the dead.

Dan Heng kept going, driven by the memory of your smile and the warmth you had brought into his life.

In the center of a dark hall was the throne on which sat the two Aeons Arbitrers, who determined the death and birth of common mortals: Lan and Qlipoth. Dan Heng addressed his invocation to Qlipoth.

"Oh sweet Aeon who from your face emanates the light of the universe" - he began - "have pity on my pain. Cruel fate has torn my beloved from life. I have tried to calm my despair, but in vain. Have pity on me. Hear me, I beg you, give me back Y/n or keep me here too. I would rather die than live without them".

The young man's invocation moved the Aeon to pity, who wept softly, looked for a moment at the other Aeon, and implored THEM in silence. Lan would never refuse THEM and THEY too, becoming tender, exclaimed: -

"You seek to defy the natural order," it intoned, its voice reverberating like the tolling of a bell. "To reclaim what has been taken is to invite suffering upon yourself."

"I don't care," Dan Heng said, his gaze unwavering. "I will do whatever it takes."

"Very well...your song, Dan Heng, has moved Qlipoth and me. I want to please you: Y/n will return with you to the earth. You yourself will lead them out of the Abyss. But be careful: you must neither look, touch nor speak to them until you have reached the light of the sun. If you turn around, you will lose them forever".

The poet, his face transfigured with happiness, bowed to the sovereign and headed towards the exit.

They walked for a long time, but Orpheus' thoughts were on his beloved who was following him. You walked behind him, your presence a fragile reassurance, but the silence between you was deafening. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of his fear pressing down on him. With his eyes fixed in front of him, he desperately struggled with the desire to turn and look at your face.

Suddenly a terrible doubt gripped his heart: were you following him or had Qilipoth deceived him?Were you truly there? Or was this a cruel illusion of the Abyss? And just as the sunlight began to filter through the darkness, he could no longer resist. He turned around.

You were standing before him and, with your hands, took off a veil that was covering you. You were more beautiful than ever, but your eyes were sad.

It was an instant. A thick, gray fog enveloped you and you disappeared into the depths forever. Form dissolved into the darkness, your voice a fading echo.

"Dan Heng... thank you for trying."

The young man's pain was terrible; he sobbed, he begged the infernal gods once more, he drew the most heartbreaking notes from his lyre. Lan did not take pity a second time and did not grant him grace again.

He emerged into the light alone, the weight of his failure crushing him. The stars above remained indifferent, their cold light a mockery of the warmth he had lost. He wandered for months through woods and grasslands. Little by little his deep despair found comfort in music, whose notes he traced on a tree bark, but the emptiness within him remained.

In the Xianzhou Luofu there is no singer who does not know that magical music.

[rxzennia]

thrice shall the bell toll

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 expands on 2.2 leaks, dark content towards the end, character death (everyone dies), heavy angst(?), not proofread. totally did not die a little inside when i wrote this, no. thank you all for 100+ followers! gold and gears, achievement grinding are driving me nuts and seeing everyone else get him makes me want to quit the game altogether. perhaps it’s time i focus more on other things. 

“never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”

the musicians begin to play with rigor as the symphony enters crescendo, building up to its climax as the orchestral music increases in intensity and irregularity. the choir sings, paving the way for the descent of an aeon, of justice; their harmony announcing the impending doom of the sinner, promising his demise, promising him eternal rest.

you arrive at the central plaza, just in time for the closing act.

you meet sunday’s eyes, the bastard head of the oak family, the mastermind conducting this cacophony of noises and disturbances. he has the gall to smirk, to flash you a smirk, as if he’s daring you to do anything.

“aventurine, ambassador of the interastral peace corporation.” sunday stalks around the man bound in shackles, like predator circling prey, hands behind his back as he looks down at him with contempt. “you are hereby found… guilty.”

the baton descends – with it, the melody dramatically tips over its climax into decrescendo. 

people often say that death has no place in a dream of prosperity and privilege. 

but when the distinction between dream and reality blurs as the very dimension crumbles, who’s to say that to die is to wake, and who’s to say that death is not still death?

in his last moments of consciousness, aventurine sees you reach for your scarf with an expression he had never seen before. acceptance, perhaps? or disappointment? regardless, you have still chosen to surprise him at his last moment. must you continue to exceed his expectations even at his execution? but both you and he know that it is already too late, and his final solace is that you are present to witness the final chapter of his story.

that he is not left behind again.

the golden hands come full circle, palms closing as the strings lift their bows in unison, leaving only the winds to continue playing. the conductor drops their baton as the inevitable quickly encroaches upon the center stage, as the music ceases until only a sole trumpet remains sounding –

he closes his eyes with a last smile for you; aventurine has finally won, at the cost of losing everything.

once shall the bell toll, for the blessed prisoner condemned to a life of deceit and insincerity.

in a split second, the sky darkens; what used to be perpetually golden and bright has been eclipsed without a trace. the artificial sun goes out, street lamps are extinguished, a veil of darkness envelops the golden hour. what was once paradise becomes the abyss, and lament stands where joy once stood. 

your scarf flutters to the ground as you give it a strong tug, undoing its loops around your neck as you let it fall. you are half-expecting a gasp followed by a waterfall of words, but it never comes.

because there is no source. aventurine isn’t here anymore. 

there’s no more of your boss staring at you with the most awestruck expression as you reveal your face anymore. there’s no more of your boss’s endless pestering anymore.

there’s no more of aventurine opening up to you, getting you to open up, or him tentatively trusting you with fragments of his past anymore.

for the first time, you experience anger. a wrath so intense that it is enough to set even the heavens alight.

it’s about time someone ripped up this disgusting dream woven with fabric made of lies. this facade of extravagant luxury built upon a decaying foundation and the desperation of the masses’ escapism, a nightmare delicately packaged into fantasy that had stripped countless people of their ambitions and futures, it’s about time someone demolished it all.

the dreamchasers who voluntarily surrendered their realities for a temporary escape, the family members who could only obey, the heads of families who put together a ploy like this, and the harmonious strings who composed such a chaotic melody…

none of them matter. 

all that matters is that aventurine is executed, publicly, in utmost humiliation.

your scarf disintegrates into tiny specks of dust. brilliantly platinum scales extend from your fingertips to your jaw, threatening to stretch along your face, too. as if answering your call, serpents emerge from all corners of your shadow, slithering off towards all directions as they respond to your will.

in the sky that is pitch black, even darker shadows rear their heads; they fly, circle around the plane of the masterfully crafted illusion, around penacony itself. they await your orders, they await your next command. 

“eat up, my darlings.”

twice shall the bell toll, for the manufactured illusion of utopia drowning in the afterglow of opulence.

there is a reason why oroboros the voracity has kept to themselves in an unseen corner of the universe – they are not titled the unsatisfied devourer without reason.

with each corner you take for your own sustenance, you feel the universe tilt. the scales are tipping, the balance is tipping. with each piece of reality you consume, the boundary between subconscious and conscious blurs, falsehoods bleed into truth, and you feast upon them all the same.

in your rage, you are not merely tearing lives and environments apart. you are tearing religions apart, tearing peoples apart. worshippers and monuments of xipe the harmony, their symbols and their emanators, the hard-built resort destination called the dreamscape, and the plainly unremarkable penacony in reality, you are tearing it all apart.

you know you have upset the balance, and you know the consequences. you can hear the crystalline chime of the arbiter’s footsteps approaching you, you can almost see the blinding white light of the operating theater.

as the planet of festivities begin to fall out of orbit, so too do the serpents begin to decompose into glittering ashes. 

people scream as gravity somersaults, some swallowed by the caving ground, some swallowed by the gaping maws of the faceless serpents, and some dying by the hand of their kin as they struggle for survival.

you watch impassively as mortals scramble to prolong their lives, and you watch impassively as your serpents are lost, one by one, to the hands of an aeon.

if the mere handwave of an arrogant upholder of justice and a simple declaration are justification enough for an execution, for what reason should you not return the gesture?

if people would simply watch as someone is served the death penalty, what reason do you have to act as they become feed one after another?

and what reason do you have to cling onto mortal sentiments, now that your anchor to mortality is gone?

the man they killed is aventurine. your sometimes-too-annoying boss that you would not trade for anything in the world. your anchor; your dear, dear friend.

you see no reason to rein in your instincts anymore. the primal urge to consume overwhelms you, and all you want to do is to devour, devour, until there is nothing left.

voracity. oroboros’s will.

eat up while you still can, fill your metaphorical stomach with the blood of implicit killers, and tear into the flesh of the perpetrators of this grave transgression.

make them pay. before your judgement rains upon you, before the trumpeters herald your doom, before the star radiating false light meets its end in a supernova, make them pay.

their surgery is swift and painless – precise incision; two, three motions of the scalpel; complete excision.

at long last, the curtains fall. theatrics reach its conclusion, and when you look – there is no one left in the audience. 

thrice shall the bell toll, for the leviathan whose fury burned brighter than the ordinance of equilibrium.

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

𝖎𝖌𝖓𝖎𝖙𝖊

AKA: this one quote from Book!Frollo made my mind go crazy. 

Yes, I was listening to “It's A Dangerous Game” from the Jekyll and Hyde Original Concept Recording

(also, please forgive my Latin, I used google translate)

Reader/Yuu is female and has hair (which is implied to be long)

Masterlist

It was mesmerising, how perfectly your bodies melded and moved together, how easily and harmoniously you were brought to a hitherto unknown rapture. To be caught up in such a state, where you were free of the chains that bound you to the horrors of purgatory and had ascended you to heights you had never felt before, to feel him guiding you to a place where you had never even begun to dream about.

Minutes had passed since the twelfth ring of the Bell of Solace yet the two of you stayed in your tower, pressed against a shadowed alcove, away from everyone and everything, your hands wandering and blood singing as the rest of the city drifted off into their fanciful visions of the dusk.

With the Witching Hour descending upon you, veiling you in the covers of the night, you only had the stars and the spirits above as witnesses to this tryst, your secrets laid bare for their silent judgement.

But their judgement didn’t matter, nor did your schoolmates’, if the silent covenant between you and him were to be obeyed, if the unvoiced sermon in blue flickers that glowed against the scorching green of his eyes that seared into you as he took a lock of your hair and pressed it against his lips were to be acknowledged.

His cold touch, like fire, burning your figure as it trailed across your face, your neck, your shoulder before settling on your waist, pulling you closer - long, chilling fingers burned along your skin, setting ablaze every thought, every word, every semblance of rationality. 

“Pulchra,” you could feel his voice against your mouth, wafting and caressing like tendrils of smoke, sonorous to your ears, “puella pulchra, so pure, so perfect. Like a goddess in mortal form.”

You could do nothing but listen, to submit to the dark velvet of his dulcet tones, to close your eyes and let this fiery passion incinerate and eradicate the demons that plagued you. Ordinarily, you’d be against this, to let your shackled hands hand the reins of your petering control to another, but his providence proved otherwise. With your destiny enshrouded in so much unknown, the danger of staying and the risk of fleeing your perennial torment in the clutches of your captors yet with Rollo before you, you felt at peace. 

Fate, free-will, nothing mattered in this sanctuary he created.

His conviction begets your reprieve, his resolution ameliorates your soul from the horrors that had stained it with their inky fingerprints. The singing brushes of his fingertips cleansed you, and like a blazing phoenix, you emerged anew. 

With both great reluctance and great desperation his lips left yours and made their home at the apse of your neck, whispers of orisons against your skin, your name an endless epiclesis. 

Even with your sight inhibited, you could see the worship in his gaze, through the reverence in his touch, the cardinal way he regarded you in every action. His hands gentle yet formidable as they kept you against him, the golden shank of his ruby ring digging into you with the pads of his fingers.

“I wanted to see you again,” his deep timbre, dark, soft and smoky against your ears, “touch you, know who you were, see if I would find you identical with the ideal image of you which had remained with me and perhaps shatter my dream with the aid of reality.”

“And?” you hear yourself say, too lost in the fiery haze, too blinded by the flaming reds and golden ambers that danced under your eyes.

“At all events, I hoped that a new impression would efface the first, for the first had become intolerable to me. I sought you, Prefect, again to behold you. When I had seen you twice, I wished to see you a thousand more times, to always have you in my sight. You claim to be magicless, Angelum Meum, yet you have completely bewitched me. With you, I’m no longer my own master. You’ve become my salvation from perdition, shown me the true meaning of righteous. Please, I say in obsecration, grant me the blessing of speaking your benediction, of proving how far my devotion runs. Let me be your acolyte, your protector against the tainted crowd.”

His lips pressed against the apples of your cheeks, his hands on your waist, the fury of the flames within you.

It’s dangerous. But this fire won’t char you, won’t scar you, won’t leave you tearstained and broken.

It emboldens you, ignites the snuffed out hearth within you.

You nod once, a small jut of your chin through the keening of your throat and you slowly feel the ribbon of your nightdress tugged loose before it falls and pools at the ground at your feet.

[solarissttee]

02 | THE KNIGHT IN RUSTED ARMOUR

summary ; it’s a relatively peaceful day at the boar hat tavern, booze, food and even talking pigs! nothing could go wrong, right? wrong!! things take an unexpected turn when the rumoured “wandering rust knight,” a supposed member of the eight deadly sins, stumbles into the bar.

wc ; 2.6k

tags ; mentions of murder, meliodas is a sassy little shit, i made him look like he’s in his early-mid twenties and gave him a couple of inches.

notes ; (n/n): nickname. merry christmas!! think of this as a present ;3

catalogue

TEN YEARS LATER. NEAR CAINS TOWN.

heavy metal footsteps echo into the early morning, disturbing the calm solace brought by the singing of the of birds. a figure clad in armour treks through an open field, the metal creaks loudly with each step they take, evidence of its poor condition due to rust. a worn out purple cloak is draped over their shoulders, swaying as they move.

they stop walking for a bit to admire the rising sun that has begun to show itself from in between the far away valleys, taking in the breathtaking sight before continuing on their journey.

MEANWHILE… THE BOAR HAT TAVERN.

“here you are, five steins! thanks for waiting!”

a young looking, blond man cheerfully places down five cups of alcohol onto one of the many round, wooden tables in the tavern ; each filled to the brim and slightly overflowing. the bar is bustling with conversations and has a light, peaceful atmosphere, the space devoid of any hostility as men of all ages drink, joke, and eat to their fill.

the door swings open, a soft chime of a bell signalling the arrival of more customers. “hey! got room for more?”

turning his head towards the newcomers, the waiter gives a smile. “how many?”

“a party of three.”

“right over here!” he waves them over, ushering them into the cramped space. turning to another customer, he mutters out a polite “sorry, could you scoot over a bit?”

once everyone is settled in and comfortable, the waiter excuses himself to refill more cups and deliver orders to the cook who was humming a light tune, waiting for the meat pies in the oven to bake.

“for such a young man, he’s a hardworking waiter,” one of the customers remark, smiling drunkenly.

“i concur. these two sure work hard. the food and booze here is great! and so is the customer service! you don’t see that much around here anymore,” another adds in, taking slow sips of his liquor.

taking full offence to being labelled as a waiter, meliodas turns his head back towards the table of men that were talking about him. he lets out a small huff of annoyance, his lips pulled into a pout. “hey, i’m not a waiter, i’m the owner!”

silence ensues. “what?”

“this is my place—“

“ahem.”

he immediately backtracks. “this is our place. the cook over there is my co-owner.” with that, he plods off, continuing on with his task.

the customer’s jaws are slack in bewilderment. they stare at him with wide eyes. “the owners? youngsters like them?”

“no way… they look like they just hit the national drinking age...”

you snort at their presumptions of you both, while meliodas is less than pleased. he shoots you an unamused look to which you respond with a cheeky smile.

meliodas lets out a short scoff, mumbling under his breath about how ‘he couldn’t believe this level of disrespect in his own establishment.’

you watch him, amused, before turning your attention back to the oven. you take out the now freshly baked meat pies and place them on the counter for meliodas to pick up when he’s done with his current alcohol runs.

you take the unbaked ones next to you and slide them into the oven, dusting the flour off your hands afterwards. tapping your foot with a soft hum, it doesn’t take long for your gaze to wander down towards the sack of flour that’s slumped against one of the cabinets. you gauge that it wouldn’t be enough to make even a single pie.

“time to get out the new bag,” you mutter, rounding the counter and step into the pantry to get another bag of flour. you rummage through the dark closet for five minutes, cursing under your breath. did meliodas not get flour like you told him to last weekend? damn it.

heaving out an annoyed sigh at the blond’s forgetfulness, you step out into the bar area once more, undoing the perfect knot on the back of your apron and slip it over your head.

“what’re you doing, n/n?” meliodas turns his attention to you, quirking a confused eyebrow when he sees you’ve taken off your apron.

“i’m going to run to the market real quick, we’re out of flour. you didn’t restock like you were supposed to,” you remark snidely, already halfway to the door. his tan cheeks flood with colour out of embarrassment. so that’s what he had forgotten to do?

“make sure to take the meat pie out of the oven in fifteen to twenty minutes. i’ll probably be back by then, but do so just in case i’m not. and under no circumstances are you permitted to do any cooking. steer clear of the kitchen until i get back. understood?”

“stay away from cooking and take the meat pie out of the oven! you got it! you can count on me, n/n!” he gives you a playful salute, drawing out amused chuckles from the customers.

“i sure hope so...”

unfortunately, it hadn’t been up to ten minutes since you left, and the promise meliodas made to you about staying out of your kitchen was quickly broken.

now, in meliodas’ defence, he really tried to abide by your instructions, he really did! but some customers had started getting fussy about wanting more food. as the owner, he was left with no choice but to comply! and, he did try to tell them that culinary arts wasn’t his strong suit, but they just wouldn’t listen to him! he couldn’t have the tavern’s name go up in smoke!! but, with the quality of his cooking, he wasn’t even sure why he bothered in the first place.

gods, you’re definitely going to make a meal out of him when you get back.

“what the hell is this crap!?”

meliodas stands in front of three angry customers, the food he’d served them discarded on the floor, pieces of the glass plate used sticking out of the chunks of food. he’s already come to terms with his fate. if these guys didn’t kill him, you’d surely get the job done. that was one of your favourite plates.

the three customers tower over him, dwarfing him easily. they all look incredibly pissed too; ready to pummel him into the ground.

“you see, i’m not the best when it comes to making food. that’s why n/n told me not to cook anything. i did tell you to wait ‘till she gets back, but you didn’t listen,” he gives a nonchalant shrug after laying out his smartass response. he was right after all, the other customers can attest to that.

the bigger man of the three fumes more at his statement and picks him up by his shirt’s collar, hoisting him up into the air to be at eye level. “what the hell did you say, you punk!? you wanna die?!”

“woah there, big fella! it was an honest mistake, let ‘im go!”

and just like that, the boar hat’s cheery atmosphere turned sour and hostile in a matter of seconds. the three men argued angrily with the other customers. with the way things were going, the customers were teetering on the verge of a bar fight breaking out.

‘sheesh, tough crowd,’ meliodas sulks, still hanging in the air.

“hey! what’s with all this damn racket, you big oafs!?”

everyone quiets down immediately, their attention shifting to see who’d spoken. the tavern goes quiet as they’re met with... a talking pig?

“what the hell are you imbeciles screaming for, huh!? and why is there food all over the floor!?”

“the— the pig... it’s talking!”

“don’t get surprised by every little thing! you see, this is why i hate hillbillies!”

meliodas turns to the pig with a grin, wriggling out of the tight grip on his collar. “hawk, just in time! i need you to help me clean the floor!”

hawk clicks his tongue in disdain, trotting closer to the scene. “why do you even need me for this? and where’s y/n?”

“she’s out right now.”

the pig sighs and inspects the food, grumbling. “there’re glass shards in there. i’m not eating that.”

“oh, come on,” meliodas rolls his eyes, “what’s a little bit of glass?”

“if you don’t think it’s such a big deal, you eat it then!” hawk huffs, annoyed.

“so damn dramatic. you’re our scraps disposal for a reason, hawk.” the blond scoffs quietly, walking into the pantry to grab a broom to clean up the food himself.

pretending not to hear his comment, hawk tilts his head up to look at the ones responsible for the ruckus. “oi, you three. this moron can’t cook to save his life. if he tells you to wait ‘till the cook gets back, you wait ‘till she gets back! don’t complain unless you want to end up with food poisoning!”

huffing, the men set their table back upright before sitting down, embarrassed to have been scolded by a literal pig whilst muttering about the terrible customer service.

once everyone is back at their tables and the floor is clean once more, meliodas serves another round of alcohol to lighten up the mood. however, just as he sets down the last cup, the tavern door violently swings open, damn near taking it off its hinges. in the doorway is a man hunched over and panting, sweat dribbling down his face.

“my fucking door—”

“i—i saw it...!” the man’s voice comes out panicked and rushed, barely getting the words out with how hard he's breathing. everyone looks at him curiously and meliodas ushers him inside, albeit still salty about how hard he’d opened the door. he then goes off to get the poor guy a drink.

“i’m positive that what i saw, was the wandering rust knight!”

the silence is loud at his confession for a few minutes before it’s broken by drunken laughter. the newcomer shrinks in his seat out of embarrassment. maybe he should’ve just kept his mouth shut...

“the wandering rust knight? what’s that about?” meliodas sets a cup down in front of the newcomer, tilting his head curiously.

“it isn’t anything to worry about, just some silly tale to scare children into behaving,” another customer waves it off, downing the rest of his drink.

“if you keep misbehaving, one of the eight deadly sins will come for you in armour that’s rusty from blood!”

a few hearty laughs are drawn out from the joke. meliodas, however, looks as clueless as ever. “the eight deadly sins?”

“yeah. haven’t you heard of ‘em, son?”

“i’m not your son,” meliodas mutters, annoyed at the way they’re babying him. nevertheless he admits to not knowing the group just mentioned.

“well, that’s a surprise, they’re pretty well known. they’re on the wanted posters, those ones over there,” the man nudges his head over to the board that had the wanted posters of the eight criminals, their names lining the bottom of their faces.

“i think it was about ten years ago? that big fracas where dozens of holy knights who had gathered across the land were all butchered during the kingdom’s founding celebration. it was a blood bath. these eight deadly sins were the bastards who did it. they say that the way the holy knights’ grand master himself was killed was too gruesome to look at.”

“the former king was out of his mind for arranging a faction of criminals in the first place. the old coot really set himself up.”

“yeah! those guys were a threat to everyone! not to mention that their captain and vice captain, meliodas and y/n, are the scariest of the bunch. they say those two have brought down whole countries. monsters, truly.”

the blond nods in understanding at their explanations. “sounds interesting. have they been caught yet?”

a tense silence follows.

“well? have they?”

“...no, not a single one of them...”

“ah, that’s a problem then, isn’t it?” he cocks an eyebrow, subtle amusement swirling in his eyes. “i mean, if they’re sooo dangerous, then surely they should be behind bars, right? it’s already been ten years, hasn’t it?”

“i—i... well... yeah, it’s a huge issue. but, some of the rumours i’ve heard say they’re all dead.”

“they’re dead, they have to be. the new holy knights wouldn’t let them live.”

“oh, please. the same holy knights that can’t even catch petty thieves these days? yeah, right.”

“don’t say things like that, you’ll get yourself beheaded!”

“it’s the truth, though! they’re all incompetent, good-for-nothing assholes!”

“how dare you! the holy knights are the ones who’re keeping the kingdom safe while that damned queen is doing who knows what? it makes me wonder why we didn’t just have old bartra take his last breaths on the throne.”

“you talked about me getting beheaded for saying the damn truth about those good-for-nothing holy knights, but you’ll go ahead and talk about the queen? go fuck yourself!”

“you bastard—”

the bar becomes rowdy again. words are being thrown now, each man was recounting the rumours he’d heard and using it to counter other claims. the varying information being shared had greatly dampened the atmosphere, creating tension.

‘after i got them to settle down too,’ meliodas rolls his eyes at their behaviour, salty about how things were going but wouldn't complain. the gossip was too good to pass up anyway.

“but... this wanted board is updated every year,” the newcomer butts in nervously, “wouldn’t that mean that they’re not dead or even caught yet?”

“what the fuck did you just say?”

“think about it! if the eight deadly sins have been caught and put down, why are their wanted posters still up? it’s been ten years already and the holy knights haven’t even come close to locating these guys!”

everyone goes quiet at his words, leaving the question to hang in the air for a moment before the awkward silence is broken.

“whatever, man... all this talk of a knight walking around in rusted armour is kinda farfetched, right?”

“y—yeah, it’s crazy...”

a quick change of conversation is made to brush off the possibility that the eight deadly sins haven’t been caught and put down yet by the kingdom’s oh-so-competent holy knights. there wasn’t any evidence they could use to refute that claim, it made too much sense.

idle chatter fills the room once more. meliodas takes note of how the tension seems to have increased. it takes a few minutes and two more rounds of alcohol before everyone begins to loosen up again. it’s peaceful for about thirty minutes; people are making jokes again, some are even singing songs. they’re all terrible and off key, but it’s the fun the counts, no?

however, loud, heavy, metal footsteps make their way towards the tavern, alerting the bar owner and the customers that someone was coming towards them.

“it’s probably a holy knight. maybe they heard the shit-talking you did earlier,” one man snickered drunkenly, nudging the guy next to him.

“this smell... it’s rust...” hawk mutters. meliodas looks down at him, then back at the door. he unconsciously grasps the hilt of the dragon looking sword on his back, having a bad feeling about the approaching knight.

the door slowly creaks open and standing in the doorway is a knight in full armour, a strong smell of rust accompanying their entrance. they wobble into the bar, making the customers freeze up in fear at the realization that this wasn't any ordinary holy knight.

“the eight deadly sins...”

their voice comes out ragged and in broken pants, their helmet muffling their voice greatly.

“t—t—t—the wandering rust knight...!” the men shriek in unison, and immediately scramble to their feet and run out of the boar hat. some were screaming, others crying and coming close to pissing themselves as they bolt down the hill in fear of their lives.

you had been coming back up to the tavern, two bags of flour slung over you shoulders. you stare in confusion seeing the customers run out, yelling about some ‘wandering rust knight,’ and how he was going to kill them all.

you take cautious steps towards the tavern and peer inside. right before your very eyes, in the middle of your bar, was a knight in rusted armour. it seems that all the rumours were true after all.

you watch as meliodas flips himself over the counter, taking brisk steps towards the mysterious figure that had let themself into your bar.

“who the hell are you?”

[whitherwanderer]

6 // halcyon

// 621 words. Sawyer's undiagnosed ADHD strikes again.

Tranquil is not how Sawyer would describe her days, but there is a rhythm to them. Daylight is spent trekking new adventurers out into the field to face ever more perils on their climb to glory, and her task is to see they make it out alive. Evenings are spent on reflection; licking wounds and filling reports, assessments, recommendations. Nights are for the calm. A hot bath, a cool drink, and the company of her beloved.

It’s the fleeting morning hours she treasures most. The consistent pattern of energetic highs into static lows is met in the upswing each morning with the sun first light. Sometimes it is Amesha who wakes first to make them both tea, sometimes it’s Sawyer herself. But always, always one waits for the other for a small ritual to take place before much of anything is spoken.

Sawyer found it did not come to her easily.

She had heard of the practice of meditation and its benefits. There was a form of it in nearly all cultures she’s visited or read about, much of it originating from or inextricably linked to the dominant form of magical practice. But seldom had she considered it useful, and even at Amesha’s insistence, it did not come naturally.

Stillness and breathing were things one did in sleep, she’d tell herself. When awake, there were things to be done. Focus on her breath became grating, repetitive. Sitting still made her ever more keenly aware of the discomfort in whatever position she chose. Mantras felt disingenuous on her own tongue, and the idea of clearing one’s mind was a laughable prospect that seemed plausible only in death.

Amesha, of course, was a woman of profound patience.

“Ill-equipped is not ill-skilled. If the Hawk cannot find solace in still wings, then lift them. Find their span and let the flow of winds unfelt guide.”

So the hyur did, even if she felt silly. Amesha showed her motions and stretches through which to guide her breaths, and this was easier than stillness. Managing the speed of it kept her mind at work, and though it wasn't truly cleared, it was no longer racing. Of course, as soon as the motions became rote, her mind was at work again. Amesha couldn’t be less surprised, but was not out of techniques to offer.

“The Hawk’s mind flies before she has even left the safety of the bough,” she giggled. “She may find herself grounded in observing the world through her senses. Talons may find purchase in the present if she describes her surroundings as she does for her Heartlight…”

And so Sawyer does. The weather of the day is spoken of in terms of texture and smell, warmth and weight. The individual notes of their tea are picked out one by one. Sounds outside their window are noted, and only now does Sawyer realize that even amongst individuals within a species, birds each sing a unique version of their characteristic songs. What she cares about even more is how this observation brings a smile to her Amesha’s lips.

Eventually, there comes little need to speak. Sawyer guides herself through a morning with Amesha wordlessly for the first bell, using each technique as needed for the mood of the day, and eventually they leave the safe and quiet of their lodgings for the dangers of a noisy world.

If she was to be honest, she still isn’t sure what advantages meditation conferred. But if the only benefit to be forced to slow, to take in and stretch out each morning with her Amesha, to be fully present and bask in her light, then it was worth all her mornings hereon. May they be many, she’d pray.

[rattlyglitch]

Oh How the Heart Does Sing

The walk through the tower didn’t seem too bad to Silver. Although he was being carried by Malleus he was sure he could go up and down the stairs perfectly fine unlike Idia. “I can't go on…Legs have officially turned to jelly. No more…” SIlver slipped out of Malleus’s arms and patted Idia’s side. “It’s ok Idia you can do it.” Idia gave Silver a smile and patted his head.

Azul on the other hand had set Rollo down and untied him. “I thought you were turning me in? Why did you untie me?” Azul stretched himself before responding. “We're not able to carry you the whole way down. You can walk for yourself.” Malleus shook his head. “This would have gone much faster if we slid down the side of the tower.” Silver laughed at the suggestion Malleus had made. It was definitely entertaining to think about how that would go about.

Silver turned when he heard footsteps approaching and saw Sebek and the two other student council people that had helped everyone with their costumes. “MALLEUUUUS! SILVER!” Sebek yelled, running over to both of them. Silver felt himself surprisingly lifted up by Sebek and hugged. He let out some giggles before smiling as he looked at Sebek. “Hi Seb.” Sebek situated Silver on his side and looked at Malleus proudly. “Sebek you came to meet us?” Malleus asked, wondering why he had come. Sebek gave a proud nod.

“I had every faith you would vanquish the opposition! I merely wished to see that Rollo was apprehended properly by Azul and Idia!” Malleus seemed pleased by the answer and patted his shoulder. “Heh…I had faith in you as well Sebek. I knew my guardsman would prevail.” Sebek seemed to happily take the compliment. The Nobel Bell students that had entered had flocked around Rollo with worry. They started asking Rollo immediately what had happened but Malleus, Azul, and Idia started talking about Rollo having been the one to save all the students.

Silver was a bit surprised but didn’t say anything. Malleus sent the students off to find other students that had helped with the firelotuses as Malleus had said. When they were gone Rollo looked at Malleus confused. Have you taken pity on me? Am I so weak and pathetic to you? SPARE ME YOUR PITY!” India and Azul both seemed annoyed by Rollo’s behavior while he himself was still confused. “I thought you would have realized Malleus isn’t some sap”

Azul said. Rollo still didn’t understand. “Explain yourself.” Malleus gave a grin to Rollo. “I've come up with a fitting punishment for you. Will you confess to your misdeeds or continue to feign innocence? The final decision is yours to make.” Rollo responded with a laugh. “What a feeble punishment! All I have to do is keep quiet, and I get off scot-free!” Malleus gave Rollo a simple answer.

"That's acceptable to me. You'll be able to deceive others, of course, and even yourself. But you'll never deceive the Bell of Solace that's watched over you all this time.” Rollo raised a brow. “Indeed. You hold it in high esteem, do you not? And yet you sought to misuse it for your own ends. How you live with your deeds is up to you.” Rollo stayed silent so Malleus simply continued.

“You can come clean or hold your tongue. Either way, you'll regret it. No matter which choice you make, you will spend the rest of your days racked with the fires of remorse. There's no greater punishment I could inflict upon you, Flamme. Wouldn't you agree?” Rollo gave Malleus a glare. “…Touché. You villains are quite well-versed in tormenting others. Hmhm… Mmhmhm… Hahaha…” Malleus didn’t take mind to Rollo anymore and made sure the others were in agreement. Malleus looked at Silver. “I want to make sure you are also ok with this outcome, Silver. You were endangered most by what happened.”

Silver looked at Rollo who looked at him but didn’t do much else. He stuck his tongue out at Rollo and made a face but afterwards gave a nod. “Yeah I’m satisfied. Let him suffer!” Silver replied with a menacing smile on his face. Malleus and Sebek were both a bit surprised but his reaction got a laugh out of Idia. “Speaking of important things.Aren’t you forgetting something important?” Rollo turned his gaze to Azul. “What's that?” Azul shook his head.

“THE BALL. You know, the main event of the social? The ball's to be held on the second night. Which, if I might remind you, is tonight. It's been bad enough dealing with those firelotuses. If word got out that the Noble Bell student council president was behind them, the ball would be called off in a heartbeat. If you're going to confess, I ask that you save it for AFTER we've left.”

Malleus seemed pleased with Azul’s response “Agreed. Do as he asks, Flamme.” Rollo gave Malleus a look. “How self-centered can you people be…? Were you that excited for the social? Are you truly so eager to attend a ball?” Malleus' reply almost sounded like a growl when he responded. “YES.” Sebek himself yelled his own agreement at Rollo. “YOU HEARD MALLEUS! DO AS HE SAYS!” India wanted nothing to do with the ball. He expressed well that he didn’t want it to continue.

“…Fine. People will be amenable if I tell them you Night Raven students insisted on it. You saved the day, after all. The ball shall proceed as planned. I'll take responsibility for that, at least.” Malleus seemed relieved that Rollo had agreed. “Excellent. Now I can truly say that I've been invited.” Azul gave a sigh and looked at the others. “Indeed. Now, I suggest we all enjoy a well- deserved rest. We certainly look like we need it.” Malleus gave a laugh. “Heh heh… Yes, we do look rather scorched and sweaty. We must ready ourselves for the ball.”

Idia groaned in annoyance. “Oh nooo… This means we still have to do the thing…” The group egan walking again and everyone headed into their own rooms. Silver leaned against Sebek’s shoulder as they walked slowly, becoming more tired as the minutes passed. He was awoken by Malleus who was now in sleepwear with his hair slightly dripping after having showered no doubt. “Wake up Silver. You need to shower before you sleep.” Silver groaned in annoyance but listened and let Malleus carry him to the bathroom.

Twice Silver had almost fallen asleep but it wasn’t long before he was lying next to Malleus and sleeping against gripping onto his bat plush he had brought with him while Malleus had a protective arm over him. Malleus was simply looking through his phone at things that he and Silver could do if they ever came back to Fleur City. Sebek was in the other bed that was in the room. At first he had tried to fall asleep but decidedly looked at Malleus.

“Is Silver ok? I never go the chance to ask." Malleus stroked Silver's hair when the questions was asked as if seeing if there was any injury he missed but in the end gave Sebek a confident nod. "He was exposed to the firelotuses only twice as far as I am aware. His magic may be drained some and he may be resting well until it is time to leave for the ball but that is all." The second question Sebek asked was one Malleus did also expect "What was the reason Rollo kidnaped Silver?”

“The diary we found in the council room revealed that Rollo had a younger brother who died from his magic. I believe that he saw his brother in Silver and that is the reason he took Silver. Silver admitted also to Rollo calling him Russia which was the name of his late brother.” Sebek seemed baffled by what Malleus had said but didn’t have anything else to say and decided to sleep, finding the answer he received adequate. Malleus was only on his phone for a few more minutes before following in falling asleep.

///////////////

The next night every student was ready for the ball. Silver had been walking with Sebek to greet the other students of Night Raven that were ready for the Masquerade. They first saw Ruggie and Jamil before going to greet Riddle, Deuce, Rook, and Epel. Silver wasn’t sure if they exactly saw him while they were whispering to each other but sure did when Sebek walked over. Silver looked up at them mischievously. He put a finger over his mouth with his right hand though before rubbing his thumb, middle, and pointer together with his left portraying that they were now in debt to Silver if they wanted him to keep his silence.

That seemed more shocking to them then how Sebek tried to throw the two of them up in the air like children. Not long after Malleus arrived and Silver ran over to him hugging him happily. Everyone was excited for the ball besides Idia who seemed ready to return back to his room as soon as possible even though he had just arrived. “Actually, uh, I think I'm good… I've said my hellos, so I'm just gonna head back to my room now…” Sebek was quick to grab Idia’s arm. “WAIT, HUMAN! Malleus told me of your deeds. You thwarted Rollo with superior logic and soundly chastised him, yes? You may be a twisted, irksome human, but I suppose even a broken clock is right twice a day!”

Idia rolled his eyes and let out an irritated sigh. “Way to start with a compliment before going straight for the dunk… Look, I don't need this. Just leave me alone.” Sebek shook his head no. “I am not so rude as to ignore those deserving of proper credit.” Silver agreed with Sebek and hugged Idia. “Yeah. Modesty is a virtue and all, but you can take it too far. You deserve to celebrate your accomplishments.” Ruggie chuckled.

“Ooh, sounds like this calls for an air toss, huh?” What he said seemed to have lit something within Sebek to agree. “Tossing me into the air?! On another school's Main Street?! Nope, the hardest possible nope!” Silver laughed happily. “Let's do it, Sebek. I’ll get his legs” Silver replied, his grip tightening in Idia’s legs.

“NOOO!” India tried to carefully escape and almost fell back if it wasn’t for Malleus holding his shoulders to keep him standing. “The aerial toss can wait. Let us head for the ball before Trein wakes up. A teacher would be loath to condone holding a ball directly after a major incident. But Trein values etiquette. He wouldn't interrupt everyone's fun once the ball was underway.” Silver gave a disappointed sigh but let go of Idia and went to stand next to Malleus. Che’nya and Neige were soon to arrive and greet them. Silver hadn’t met them much but they both seemed cool.

The two Royal Sword students managed though to talk to the group when the others talked about how they were unsure if the ball would happen. Both Neige and Che’nya gave the surprising news that Rollo had been working alone to clean up for the ball. “Rollo fixed up the whole venue by himself? Nobody asked him to do that.Geez, why'd he go and do a thing like that…” Idia spoke no doubt confused. Malleus seemed to have the same question.

“Why would he take such toil upon himself? Is it his idea of atonement?” Azul on the other hand seemed to have a reasonable answer to their questions. “Who can say? It's possible he just didn't want to accept help from mages… But also, after that battle, I imagine just walking would be a feat for him. And he cares quite a bit about appearances.” After he had spoken the Bell of Solace rang. Malleus smiled excitedly. “Ah… There's the nighttime bell. It's time for the ball to begin. Let us head to the venue.”

///////////////

Inside the venue was packed with people. Many were amazed and nervous that Malleus was simply at the ball to begin with. Rollo welcomed Malleus to speak to the students. “It gladdens my heart to see us all gathered together this eve. Some among you may be speculating about who I am…But right now, we are all equals at this masquerade ball—we're ‘promising young mages.’ I ask that you treat me as simply another mage. I wish to express my gratitude at being invited to this delightful gathering…So I've prepared a gift for you all.” Whispers began to go around the room about what Malleus had meant when he said he had a gift to give all the students there.

Soon after he did, the students of Night Raven began their dance. Silver was excited that he had been included in it and danced around with other students of Night Raven college with a wide smile on his face. The dance truly was amazing and all the students seemed to believe so as well. The rest of the night was also wonderful. Silver got to dance with Malleus and some others as well. His shyness to sometimes ask someone to dance seemed to make some awe and it was as if no one could refuse him.

Silver didn’t exactly want to dance with Rollo like Malleus had wanted to but he did indeed wish to talk to him. Rollo seemed a bit astonished that Silver had come over to him. “I would have expected you to be dancing with the others.” Silver shook his head and looked at Rollo. “I just wanted to come talk with you.” Rollo kept his eyes on the students who were dancing but did reply. “Why would you have interest in talking to me?”

“Because I wanted to tell you I forgave you.”

Rollo made a noise that sounded like he almost choked on air. “Why would you wish to tell me that?” His attention was now on Silver. “Because it’s the right thing to do. I know I’m not your brother but I thought it was sad you saw me as him. He must have been a kind person if you did.” There was silence for a minute but Silver could swear he heard a sniffle. “He was…” Silver looked up at Rollo and saw him hiding his face behind his handkerchief but the tear that rolled down his cheeks couldn’t be hidden. Silver gave Rollo a quick hug before heading off to dance again.

///////////////

The next morning every one was preparing for the trip back to Night Raven College. While preparing Silver had found the glass mobil he had been looking at in the town square the next day addressed to him. The sender had not left any trace of who they were but Silver was sure he knew who it was and whispered a "thanks" to Rollo when seeing him by chance in the dining hall. He was excited to put it in his dorm room later. After everyone was ready it was a relieving one. Everyone was excited to return and others who had stayed back for their return. Lilia met Silver, Malleus, and Sebek outside of Night Raven and helped them carry their bags into the school and to their room. Malleus and Sebek seemed to want to rest and told Lilia a bit about their trip leaving out the flowers. Lilia looked to Silver for answers next after he was given his gift that Silver had gotten from Fleur City for him. “So tell me Silver. What was the most exciting thing that happened while you were at school?” Silver gave Lilia a bright smile and replied with a cheery voice

“I got kidnapped!”

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4 , Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14 (story completed)

[itsdinlukes]

you know what? I'm not done ranting about Izzy.

Izzy Hands was never the villain. He did what he knew. He ran a ship. And let's be honest here, Stede's ship was a fucking WRECK before Izzy got there. Izzy just cleaned it up. Yeah, he was a dick, but no one was paying attention and always giving him some sort of sass. I'd be bitchy too.

When he became the "villain" was when his sense of security (Blackbeard) was gone and he did everything he could to get it back. He was trying to fight for his identity. He didn't know himself without Blackbeard. Hell, he didn't even rat out the crew, just Stede who was actively taking Edward away from him. Obviously, it backfires. We see him, instead, get abused by the only family he had. The only person he loved and put before his own needs.

Now, in season two, he's making his apologies. We finally see him become a human again. He finds solace in the crew that he hated before. He got a new family. And what does Blackbeard do when he sees this?? Shoots him in the fucking leg at a spot where he needed it amputated and DIDN'T CARE IF HE DIED. The crew Izzy had spent so much time hating hid him from Blackbeard, protecting him like he protected them. He became their figurehead. Their unicorn.

And when he lived? Blackbeard gave him a gun to finish the job.

Eight episodes later and Edward is back and everyone is singing praises. He gets welcomed back with mostly open arms after he traumatized EVERYONE because of one bad breakup. He only apologises to Fang. Sure he did the cat bell and a general apology, but traumatizing a whole crew and trying to murder your first mate because he tried to protect them isn't something you can just blanket statement.

Izzy dies because he's still trying to protect his people. People Edward abandoned on a whim. Izzy died protecting HIM again.

There was no reason Israel Hands had to die.

Also the theory Buttons is going to resurrect him? Jfc if that happens I'm fully done. That's such a cheap trick? And if this is just manipulation, that's sick as hell. We finally get queer characters and everything about this show is against "kill your gays" and yet here we are PLUS BAITING?? fucking insufferable.

sorry this is long and probably incoherent. I'm angry, upset, and exhausted.

[bnuuys-writing]

A Wistful Waltz

Hello everyone!! Have a small fanfic of my TWST Yuu, Jen, dancing with her crush Sebek during the Glorious Masquerade event!! <3

As for Vil's Moving Castle, it is still in the works so dont worry!! I should have another chapter out soon, as long as I am still able to pass through finals that are coming up in the second and third week of December!

Love you all and thank you so much for the support!! <3

Bnnuy Out~!

Don't speak just yet

Jen could watch Sebek all day, seeing him run around and protect Malleus, spouting off about how much he admires his liege. Yet, here they are in Fleur City, a most beautiful and wondrous town that Jen had been dying to get to in hopes of learning more of this world. Fully glad Grim harassed poor Crowley just so that the two of them could be sent here with the group. Yet, she knew that something was underlying in everything that Rollo was putting out. Something just didn't seem right.

Let's soak up the time that we have left

All of time felt odd while Jen was here. As if everything was moving too fast as they ran around the town pulling these flowers that sapped her magic. Threatening to destroy everything that Jen had worked so hard for. She could feel herself weakening throughout the entire fight if pulling weeds within the city in hopes of protecting everyone besides herself. She needed to. For this wasn't her world but she had come to love it as her own. 

Breathe our vows when the stars, chase the clouds

As the fight had ended, the bell of Solace rang out once more. Everything felt back to normal. As if it could ever be normal enough for Jen. She had come to a strange world just like she had come to the land of Devildom, had to relearn everything back from the beginning once more and expand on everyone and everything here within this land. Yet, she didn't particularly hate it. She couldn't believe she could hate him. Not after everything they have been through.

Let's play with chance

The stars looked almost too bright tonight, the music as well was too loud for Jen’s ears. It probably didn't help that her outfit felt light as a feather but with all the jewelry and ornaments adorning her body, she felt like led. Her eyes could only trail after a mint haired man running around, spewing how gracious and great his master was. How his gift shall forever be remembered here within Fleur City and how all these humans should be grateful to hear The Prince Malleus Draconia’s voice sing such an old tune that was relevant to Fleur City’s culture. As she was asked to dance by Deuce, Riddle, Azul and Silver, she could only keep her eyes painted upon only one backside, determined to get one dance with him.

Put your hand in mine, dear, give me this dance. Waltz around, while the night plays out

She couldn't believe what she was about to do but she had faith in herself. Afterall, Deuce had commented that she was almost as headstrong as he was. Her determination was just as admirable as Azul’s and how she planned this out was approved by Silver. How could he deny such an order from Malleus Draconia to give her one simple dance? A simple waltz that if they both didn't like it, they could just simply forget about it. Jen could feel the air around her get sucked out from her as she felt Sebek’s hand grasp her waist and the other securing itself within her hand as he began to pull her with him across the dance floor. It felt as if there was no one with Jen as the stars enclosed them both within her eyes, for all she could see and dare to stare up at was the masked man that she knew was Sebek, falling into her trap of getting one dance out of him this night. As if a large spotlight had been following them around while everyone could only stare at the loud crocodile and the rabbit he’s caught within his maws share a dance.

Let's try our luck. I'll stand on the edge, give me a shove

It felt like everyone let out a breath of relief as Sebek was busying himself with waltzing with Jen. The sudden rivals that seemed to have something more blossoming between them that night. More than just the tension of rivalry. More of something more sweet and tender that one could have never seen him ever receiving while the other was more than willing to give it all for them. Jen couldn't help but pour out her gentle musings of poetry and unfettered love for the mint haired man, readying to face rejection within her face only to get back a flushed red crocodile muttering how a certain beastman wasn't too pathetic in battle, how he never knew that rabbits could be so determined to face danger, face on. To even be willing to fall into the maws of a crocodile. To have such trust within a guard made him feel so much more worthy of protecting Malleus and to know that he could protect someone just as important to him as well. How could he deny Jen when his feelings were so obvious to himself?

Catch my mouth, while the stars chase the clouds

Jenny could feel herself floating and if it weren't for the fact that Sebek was holding her, she was sure she would’ve floated herself up to the ceiling. At least, that's what she thought. Her state of mind was on cloud nine at hearing the confession from Sebek, knowing that her feelings were not just one sided and how much she prayed and wished to the stars that she would have this dance with Sebek. To have the courage to ask him out. To receive a positive yes? Oh, how her heart soared and leaped for joy! To know that she had her very own lucky star in her hand now, to know that Sebek is someone she will always be willing to fight for. As the waltz slowly ended, she couldn’t help but feel herself leaning in and with a nod from Sebek was hesitant, she could feel the rush of fireworks behind her system as she experienced something more heavily than any other angel she had met before as they shared a soft kiss underneath the candlelight of the ballroom, the stars twinkling brightly outside as if proud of their little achievement. Ah, what a future they cannot wait to experience together. 

[music-dmt]

The Role of Music in Shaping Our Emotions

Music has always had a profound impact on our emotions. It has the ability to bring comfort in times of sorrow, joy in moments of celebration, and reflection during periods of introspection. Artists like Darius Danesh have the remarkable ability to tap into our emotions through their music. His soulful ballads and emotionally charged lyrics often speak to our most personal feelings, making his songs timeless. Darius’ music resonates with listeners across the globe because it expresses feelings that are often difficult to articulate. His ability to convey vulnerability through his songs, combined with his powerful vocals, creates a lasting emotional connection with his audience.

One of the powerful aspects of music is its ability to ask the tough questions. The Question Song Lyrics in many songs delve into deep philosophical and personal inquiries, asking listeners to reflect on their own experiences and life choices. Songs that ask, "What is love?" or "Why do we fall?" become timeless because they speak to universal human emotions. They resonate deeply because everyone can relate to the themes explored in these songs. Whether it’s about love, loss, or the search for meaning, these songs become anthems for self-reflection, allowing listeners to connect with the artist and with each other.

Another artist who has had a significant impact on the emotional landscape of music is Eminem Famous Songs. Known for his raw honesty and unflinching approach to addressing difficult topics, Eminem’s music challenges listeners to confront their own struggles. Whether he’s reflecting on his tumultuous upbringing or discussing his battles with fame, Eminem’s lyrics allow listeners to find solace in the understanding that they are not alone in their experiences. His music has a way of making even the most difficult emotions feel more manageable. His lyrics speak to themes of anger, pain, and resilience, and his songs are often a source of empowerment for those facing their own emotional battles.

Beyond the world of rap and pop, one genre that continues to move listeners emotionally is Disney music. The Best Disney Songs have the remarkable ability to transport listeners into a world of imagination and nostalgia. Songs like "Let It Go" from Frozen or "A Whole New World" from Aladdin evoke a sense of wonder and possibility. Disney songs have the power to connect generations, reminding us of the simple joys of childhood while also providing lessons that resonate as we grow older. The themes of love, friendship, courage, and perseverance are common in Disney songs, making them feel timeless. These songs speak to our innermost desires for connection, adventure, and self-discovery.

Finally, no conversation about emotionally moving music would be complete without mentioning the classic Popular Christmas Carols. Christmas carols have been passed down through generations, and their songs of joy, peace, and hope never grow old. The act of singing carols together has a way of uniting people, transcending cultural and geographic boundaries. Whether it’s singing “Silent Night” around a Christmas tree or joining in with “Jingle Bells” at a holiday party, Christmas carols bring people together in celebration. These songs embody the essence of the holiday spirit, fostering a sense of community, love, and gratitude that’s felt by people of all ages.

In conclusion, music has the power to shape our emotions in ways that nothing else can. From artists like Darius Danesh who touch our hearts with their lyrics to songs that challenge us with tough questions, music remains a constant source of reflection, joy, and healing. Whether it’s the empowering anthems of Eminem Famous Songs or the nostalgic beauty of the Best Disney Songs, music provides us with the emotional tools to navigate our personal journeys. And when it comes to the holidays, few things offer as much comfort and joy as singing along to Popular Christmas Carols, spreading cheer, peace, and love to those around us.

[serenesoulsanctuary]

Birds Singing Stunning Nature Stress Relief Relaxing Birds Sound https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC0unf1fSYKzx715A6mkjPLw

Birds Singing Stunning Nature, Stress Relief, Relaxing Birds Sound https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC0unf1fSYKzx715A6mkjPLw https://ift.tt/djTsmlz Welcome to Serene Soul Sanctuary, where tranquility meets inspiration! About Us: Embark on a journey of self-discovery and inner peace with Serene Soul Sanctuary. Our channel is a haven for those seeking solace in the midst of life’s hustle and bustle. Whether you’re a mindfulness enthusiast, a meditation seeker, or simply someone yearning for a moment of calm, you’ve found your sanctuary. What We Offer: Dive into a treasure trove of meditations, soothing music, and mindfulness practices tailored to nourish your soul. Our content is designed to help you find your center, relieve stress, and cultivate a sense of balance in your daily life. From nature-inspired meditations to introspective reflections, we’re here to support your journey to a more serene and mindful existence. Featured Content: Guided Meditations: Join us on a peaceful voyage within as we guide you through meditations for relaxation, focus, and spiritual growth. Serenity Sessions: Immerse yourself in our specially curated sessions featuring calming music, serene landscapes, and gentle affirmations. Mindful Moments: Short yet powerful mindfulness exercises to bring awareness to your present moment, fostering a sense of mindfulness throughout your day. Join Our Community: Become a part of the Serene Soul Sanctuary family by subscribing, liking, and sharing your thoughts in the comments. Connect with like-minded individuals who are also on the path to serenity. Let’s create a space where positivity and tranquility abound. Stay Updated: Hit the notification bell to stay updated on our latest releases and live sessions. Your journey to a serene soul starts here, and we’re thrilled to accompany you every step of the way. Serenity Awaits | Serene Soul Sanctuary #SereneSoulSanctuary #Mindfulness #InnerPeace #MeditationJourney Welcome home to your Serene Soul Sanctuary—your daily retreat into tranquility and self-discovery. from Serene Soul Sanctuary https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eb-DPpozLs4 via Serene Soul Sanctuary https://ift.tt/e2ZhXAb July 15, 2024 at 05:51PM

[nickyysharmi]

Shape Your Ideal Playlist Using These Applications

Music is like a trusted companion, always there to set the mood, accompany you on your journey, and amplify your emotions. Whether you're bouncing to a lively rhythm or seeking solace in a soulful ballad, the right music can make all the difference. Fortunately, we live in an age of digital wonders, and with the help of some fantastic apps, you can craft the ultimate playlist for every moment. We'll explore these apps that can enhance your music experience and also dip our toes into the wonderful world of audiobooks.

Enjoy Podcasts Too: Apple Music

Apple Music isn't just for Apple device users. It's a versatile platform with a vast collection of songs and albums. But what sets it apart is its extensive podcast library. You can easily switch from jamming to your favorite artists to diving into the latest episodes of your preferred podcasts.

Musixmatch: Lyrics Galore

If you're the type who loves to sing along to your favorite tunes, Musixmatch is a game-changer. This app not only displays lyrics in real-time but also syncs them with the music. Say goodbye to those mumbling moments in the chorus, and get ready to belt out your favorite songs with confidence.

Also Read: Transform Your Music Listening Experience With These Apps

Amazon Music: A Wealth of Melodies

Amazon Music, with its extensive music library, offers a wide array of songs and playlists. It's a dependable choice for those who want to enjoy music without the bells and whistles. It's user-friendly and integrates seamlessly with Amazon's Echo devices, allowing you to control your tunes with voice commands. A great option for those who value simplicity and convenience.

SoundHound: Discover the Unknown

SoundHound is more than just a song identifier; it's a community of music lovers. If you've ever been in a situation where you can't remember the name of a song, you can hum, sing, or even type a few lyrics, and SoundHound will come to your rescue. It's like having a musical Sherlock Holmes at your service.

Spotify: The Beat of the Moment

When it comes to music, Spotify is the name that needs no introduction. It's like having a musical genie at your service, ready to conjure up any song you desire. With a vast library of songs and playlists, it's your gateway to endless musical possibilities. But here's the twist – have you ever encountered the frustrating issue of lyrics not showing on Spotify? It can be quite a buzzkill for lyric enthusiasts. But fret not, there are alternatives to enhance your lyrical journey.

Audiobooks: Beyond the Music

While music is a fantastic companion, audiobooks take you on a different kind of journey. They're perfect for multitasking – you can immerse yourself in a gripping story while commuting, doing chores, or simply relaxing. Let's dive into the audiobook universe with some of the best apps to explore.

Also Read: Create Personalized Playlists With These Music Apps

YouTube Music: A Visual Treat

While you're crafting your ultimate playlist, don't forget that music isn't just about sounds – it's also about visuals. YouTube Music offers a unique blend of music and visual content. In addition to songs, it provides music videos, live performances, and even cover versions. If you're a visual music lover, YouTube Music is the ideal choice for a multisensory experience.

Summing Up

In the world of music and words, these apps offer a gateway to endless possibilities. Whether you're diving into the meanings behind lyrics or immersing yourself in the world of podcasts, there's something for every music and literature enthusiast. Of course, these are some of the best apps for audiobooks too. So, put on your headphones, press play, and let the magic of music and words transport you to new worlds and experiences. Your ultimate playlist and literary adventure await.

[soundmeditation]

Improve your well-being through sound meditation, with soothing sounds of nature, bells, light music, and guided breathing. It is a focus on the powerful effect of sound on the mind.

🎙️

Welcome, dear listeners, to our brand new home on the world wide web! I am absolutely thrilled to present to you the official blog site for the Sound Meditation Podcast on Tumblr. Finally, a platform where we can connect on a deeper level, share experiences, and explore the profound world of sound meditation together. So, take a seat, get comfortable, and let me guide you through what this exciting new blog has to offer.

First and foremost, this blog is your sanctuary—a safe space where you can dive into the wonderful realm of sound, mindfulness, and relaxation. Through our podcast episodes, we have explored the healing power of various soundscapes, from Tibetan singing bowls to nature sounds, binaural beats, and everything in between. Now, through this blog, we can embark on a journey beyond the auditory realm and explore a multitude of topics that enrich our meditation and mindfulness practices.

Expect to find a plethora of engaging content that complements our podcast episodes. Each week, I will be sharing in-depth articles, expert interviews, and thought-provoking reflections on all things sound meditation. Whether you are a seasoned practitioner or just intrigued by the idea of incorporating sound into your meditation routine, this blog is here to cater to your needs and curiosities.

But that's not all! The Sound Meditation Podcast Tumblr blog is also a platform for our incredible community to connect and share their experiences. I encourage you to engage in vibrant discussions in the comments section, where fellow listeners can exchange insights, ask questions, and support one another on their personal sound meditation journeys. Together, let us create a space that fosters growth, healing, and understanding.

Additionally, do keep an eye out for exciting announcements, updates, and exclusive sneak peeks of future podcast episodes. As we continue to explore the depths of sound meditation, I am thrilled to share our upcoming lineup of guests and topics that will undoubtedly leave you inspired and wanting more.

Before we conclude this warm welcome, I kindly invite you to subscribe to our newsletter to stay up to date with all the latest blog posts, podcast episodes, and special events. By subscribing, you'll receive valuable resources straight to your inbox, including guided meditations, printable mantras, and behind-the-scenes insights. Plus, you'll never miss a beat on our podcast releases!

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for joining us here on this exciting new journey. Together, let's delve into the world of sound meditation, finding solace, harmony, and transformation along the way. Remember to follow us on Tumblr, Instagram, and Twitter to stay connected with our amazing community. Until our paths cross again, may your inner sound be a symphony of peace and serenity.

With love and gratitude,

Toni 🧘🏽‍♀️🔊

Sound Meditation Reduces Stress, Controls Anxiety, Promotes Emotional, mental, and physical Health. Resulting in full body alignment and balance

For suggestions and other inquiries and to keep up with the latest news by following us on social media.

YouTube Channel

https://www.youtube.com/c/ToniOnOne

T On 1 Radio

https://www.facebook.com/TOn1Radio/

Instagram

Sound Meditation Podcasts are also available on most podcast sites and apps.

To listen and chat during live broadcasts visit:

https://www.spreaker.com/show/meditation_16

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100090249398806

The information and resources on this podcast blog are based on the opinions of the host unless otherwise noted. All information is intended to motivate, encourage, and inspire positive change and a healthier lifestyle.

[sexypinkon]

Writing about the latest body of work by Wendy Nanan demanded the time to sit with all that she endeavoured to discuss. Her dioramas create bold and ironic statements about black stereotyping. Post slavery the questions persist, and the answers are still deafening in their silence. Some may even be akin to our Jouvert Carnival Minstrels, black people wearing whiteface interpreting white people in black face as they sing Yankee songs of a bygone era. Is this progressive, oppressive or something in between?

Miss Nanan asks, how have we stayed here? Why do we continue to ape our colonial past and as a subtext, why has it stuck so mercilessly to black people?

There are no Indian, Chinese or Syrian dolls to trot out and hawk to a tourist market among this collection.

Miss Nanan's pieces feature names like, Searching for La Belle Creole, Meanwhile, somewhere down in Pt.Cumana and Let me take you to the Mountaintop. They show us how much the cliche of the female black body has endured. She also delves into the present with Did you get the Pepper Spray, a topical conversation about violent crime and safety debated in the Parliament of Trinidad and Tobago as recently as the Firearms (Amendment)

 Act No.7 of 2021) In Pepper Spray, two uniformed young girls traverse the tenuous divide, Hansel and Gretel style walking to school. These are not the souvenir dolls of old, these are recently made ones in the same ilk, testing the waters of the female, black body today.

Creating props and settling the viewer inside the narrow yet semi-deep dollhouse spaces slows the viewer down to being with their own thoughts.

In a world where we are deliberately distracted to keep us from feeling disquiet, Miss Nanan's Les Marchandes in the City is an example of that fracture. You can walk from side to side peeking in at these beautifully styled, now problematic creole toys.

These dolls, collected for their nostalgia, are asked to do so much. Can they absolve us of the past?  Wearing doyettes and head ties, their faces gaze vacantly out at us and have lulled many children to sleep with their gentle womanliness. Yet, can we forget?

Miss Nanan's Caribbean Madonna's recalls some of her past works in papier mache, such as the dangling Shiva and pink half shell. However here, within the familiar there stands the disquiet. This piece harks back to the famous engraved etching of 1800, The Voyage of the Sable Venus by Thomas Stothard (British, 1755-1834) where the black female body is romanticized, eroticized, fetishized  and most of all neutralized. She is always an automaton to the viewer.

Miss Nanan goes on to question these experiences with The Help. A Caucasian child pulling on the apron of the Mammy figure in the ideal 1950's kitchen. Mammy is forever unbalanced as a hot drink - never for her - threatens to soil her uniform, keeping her in her place.

Even  Let me take you to the Mountaintop, an attempt at a reprieve to Martin Luther King's 1963 speech on Capitol Hill Washington D.C. finds no purchase.There is no solace from servitude and disrespect here. Our madras coiffe and  douillette creole wearing trio are standing precipitously in a cake topping stance above the ziggurat-like organic shape. Their moment of glory, not assured.

The Land of the Photo-op, the most DIY and flattened, non diorama work is the most child-like of her portrayals. The technique speaks appropriately to pastiche-centric innocence that tourists still seek out. Under the cutout symbolic sun and wonky Trinidad and Tobago lettering, this doll selling sea shells and chac chac a la Tourist Anne appears like another Black Madonna, La Divina Pastora. This time, the revered effigy that is displayed in Siparia, Trinidad every year. She is frozen in time. We may not know why we worship, yet we do.

Miss Nanan deftly tackles as much of the problematic incantations of past and present as she can. This is brave, necessary work and for those who missed this show, much was lost by your absence. Miss Nanan's Art reminds us that constant servitude is all that is required of the black female body. No matter the struggle or accolade the female black body presents, she is always a nicely dressed doll staring out at a future designed to please others.

[celebblogspot]

Chandraghanta Mata: The Graceful Goddess of Power and Protection

Among the various forms of the divine Goddess worshipped during the auspicious festival of Navratri, Chandraghanta Mata holds a special place. With her serene yet fierce presence, she embodies the divine feminine energy of power, protection, and grace. Let us delve into the significance and divine qualities of Chandraghanta Mata.

Chandraghanta Mata, the third form of Maa Durga, derives her name from the crescent moon (Chandra) adorning her forehead and the bell (Ghanta) she holds in her hand. The half-moon on her forehead symbolizes inner peace and serenity, while the bell represents her soothing and melodious presence.

With her eight hands carrying weapons and riding the majestic tiger, Chandraghanta Mata stands as a powerful guardian, protecting her devotees from all evil forces. She represents courage, fearlessness, and the determination to overcome any obstacles that come in the devotee's path. Her divine grace brings solace, strength, and confidence to those who seek her blessings.

During the Navratri period dedicated to Chandraghanta Mata, devotees engage in various rituals and prayers to invoke her energy and seek her divine guidance. By connecting with the Goddess through chants, mantras, and meditation, devotees open themselves to her transformative power.

Devotees strive to cultivate the virtues represented by Chandraghanta Mata in their own lives. They aim to attain fearlessness, compassion, and a balanced state of mind, just like the graceful Goddess. The worship of Chandraghanta Mata during Navratri serves as a reminder to embrace one's inner strength and walk the path of righteousness and spiritual evolution.

Chandraghanta Mata's divine energy is believed to remove all obstacles and bestow peace and protection upon her devotees. She grants them the courage and resilience needed to face the challenges of life with grace and conviction. Through her blessings, devotees experience a sense of inner harmony, leading to personal growth and self-discovery.

The vibrant and joyous celebrations of Chandraghanta Mata during Navratri create an atmosphere charged with devotion and spirituality. Devotees come together to offer prayers, sing hymns, and participate in traditional rituals, fostering a sense of unity and shared faith.

Chandraghanta Mata represents the union of power and grace, fierce protection and compassionate love. She reminds us of the strength and resilience inherent within us. By invoking her energy and seeking her blessings, devotees tap into their own innate power and find the courage to face life's challenges.

As we immerse ourselves in the worship of Chandraghanta Mata, let us embrace her divine qualities and allow them to permeate our lives. May her grace and protection guide us on our spiritual journey, instilling fearlessness, compassion, and balance within us. Chandraghanta Mata is a beacon of power and protection, ready to shower her blessings upon her devotees who seek her with pure devotion and surrender.