#nocturne paradox

[ferberus-skull]

LMAO??? WHAT IS THAT??

phenomenal. what are you doing.

[broodingnightgoddess]

I don't like how Pokemon Violet decided to make all of their Paradox Pokemon into robots. I understand the theme but not everything future-themed should be purely robotic. It ends up with Pokemon having very similar types and looks and being very samey.

The Paradoxes from Scarlet feel more intricate and thought out however. We have an idea about how these Pokemon of the past would evolve to be their current forms and shapes, and their designs feel more intricate than just "make it metallic"

Scarlet isn't free of bad choices however. Miraidon is so cool with its body ACTUALLY functioning like a bike, instead of what Koraidon is doing. I prefer Miraidon so much over Koraidon that I actually can't decide which game to buy. I'm not willing to spend 100 bucks on the dual version just yet but still. I'll probably buy Scarlet anyways but I do not like how lame Koraidon bike moves. (Please no spoilers I haven't played these games yet)

I feel that Violet's paradoxes would have benefited from evolutionary-based designs instead of all just being robots. We can keep some robots like Iron Valiant but some variety would be nice.

[stvrboyy]

─── ❝𝓝ot in this 𝓛ife❞

adrian tepes x gn!reader

─ summary; Adrian meets the reincarnation of his past love in Paris but, feeling guilty for their past death, decides to leave to keep them safe.

word count; 2.1k

cw; angst, reincarnation, castlevania nocturne adrian/alucard

request; Hello! Been adoring the Nocturne Alucard fics(*´ω｀*) If requests are still open, could I request Nocturne-era Alucard with a s/o that’s reincarnated from his first partner(from the original series or otherwise), maybe running into them in Paris? I’m always a sucker for immortal/one of their partners that keeps reincarnating.

a/n; hiii im rlly glad you're enjoying my nocturne alucard fics! i hope this is to your liking!! <3

─ navigation

─ masterlist

The city of Paris was a paradox—a place of beauty and chaos, revolution and romance. To Alucard, it was yet another passing fragment in the long tapestry of his existence. He walked through the streets with an almost spectral presence, unnoticed by those who bustled around him. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone, the occasional waft of bread from a nearby bakery, and the distant clang of bells. Yet none of it pierced the veil of his thoughts.

His immortality, once a shield, had become a heavy burden. Time had dulled his passion, and though he fought for the greater good, he often wondered if his presence truly mattered. In his long life, he had loved and lost, and the memory of those losses had become his constant shadow.

Tonight was no different. He wandered through the dimly lit streets, drawn to the life around him yet untouched by it. The people were ghosts of their own kind—passing figures who would fade with the dawn of another century. He had resigned himself to this rhythm, the endless march of time without end.

Until he felt it.

A tug, faint and almost imperceptible, pulled at something deep within him. It wasn’t physical—no sound or sight had alerted him—but an ache in his chest that stilled his steps. Alucard froze, his golden eyes narrowing as he scanned the crowded square ahead. It was as though the very air had shifted, humming with energy that only he could feel.

And then he saw you.

You stood by a vendor’s cart, a soft lantern glow illuminating your face. You were studying a trinket with quiet curiosity, the way your head tilted and your fingers grazed the item achingly familiar. For a moment, Alucard thought he was seeing a ghost—a cruel trick of his memory. But no, this was different. You were no phantom. You were real, your breath forming faint clouds in the cold air.

His heart, long quiet in its rhythm, seemed to stutter.

You didn’t look exactly the same—your features were new, your clothing suited to this era—but there was no mistaking the essence of you. He had memorized that essence, once cherished it with all the passion of his immortal soul. He had mourned its absence for lifetimes.

And now, impossibly, you were here.

Alucard didn’t realize he had moved until he was closer, his steps silent on the cobblestones. The crowd seemed to part around him, the world narrowing until only you remained. As if sensing his gaze, you looked up, your eyes meeting his.

The moment stretched endlessly.

Your expression flickered with surprise, then confusion, and finally, something deeper—something that mirrored the ache in his chest. “Do I know you?” you asked, your voice soft yet laced with curiosity.

Alucard’s throat tightened. How could he explain centuries of longing in a single moment? “I… don’t believe we’ve met,” he said, though the words tasted like a lie. His voice was steady, but his golden eyes betrayed him, shining with emotions too vast to contain.

You studied him, your brows furrowing slightly. “Are you sure? You seem so familiar, like someone I’ve… known before.”

The quiet recognition in your voice nearly unraveled him. He fought to maintain his composure, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Could it truly be you? Or was this some cruel twist of fate—a reincarnation without memory, a soul that had moved on while his remained anchored to the past?

He took a step closer, his movements careful, reverent. “Some souls,” he said softly, “are destined to meet again.”

Your lips parted slightly, and for a moment, you seemed at a loss for words. Then you smiled—a small, tentative thing, but it lit up the space between you. “I don’t know why, but that feels… right. Like I’ve been waiting for this.”

Alucard felt his breath catch. The way you looked at him now, with trust and curiosity, was so achingly familiar. His heart—long silent and cold—felt alive again, beating in time with a hope he dared not name.

“May I ask your name?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You told him, and the sound sent a shiver through him. It was different, yet it carried an echo of the name he had whispered in lifetimes past. He repeated it, savoring the way it felt on his tongue.

“What about you?” you asked, tilting your head. “Who are you?”

For a moment, he hesitated. The name “Alucard” was the shield he wore, the identity he had forged to bear the weight of his lineage. But here, with you, it felt wrong. He wanted you to know him—not the son of Dracula, not the immortal warrior, but the man beneath.

“Adrian,” he said finally, the name quiet yet full of meaning. “You can call me Adrian.”

Your smile widened, and the sight of it made his chest ache. “It’s nice to meet you, Adrian.”

As the two of you wandered through the cobbled streets, a quiet understanding passed between you. You spoke of small things—the city, the people, the revolution brewing in every shadow. Yet, underneath it all, there was an unspoken bond, a connection that transcended words.

But with every step, the weight of the past began to press heavier on Alucard’s heart. He couldn’t ignore it—the memory of your previous life, the way he had failed to protect you, the moment you had been torn from him because of his presence in your world.

You had died because of him.

He stopped walking, his golden eyes clouded with sorrow. You noticed his sudden silence, turning to face him with concern. “Adrian? What’s wrong?”

He opened his mouth to speak but faltered, the words catching in his throat. How could he explain the truth without condemning himself? How could he tell you that loving him, being near him, was a danger you didn’t deserve?

“I… can’t stay,” he said finally, his voice low and heavy.

Your eyes widened, confusion and hurt flashing across your face. “What? Why?”

“I shouldn’t have approached you,” he said, his gaze falling to the ground. “It was selfish of me. I thought… I thought I could handle seeing you again, but I can’t. I’ve already caused you so much pain. I won’t do it again.”

“Adrian,” you whispered, stepping closer. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

He closed his eyes, his fists clenching at his sides. “You don’t remember, but I do. You died because of me. In another life, you loved me, and it led to your end. I can’t let that happen again. I can’t risk losing you a second time.”

Your heart ached at the raw pain in his voice, but before you could respond, he turned away.

“Wait!” you called, your voice trembling. “Will I ever see you again?”

He stopped, his back to you, his golden hair catching the faint light of the lanterns. For a moment, he said nothing, the silence stretching endlessly. Then, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

“𝓝𝓸𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓮.”

And with that, he vanished into the night, leaving you alone with a heart full of questions and the faint echo of a love you couldn’t remember but couldn’t forget.

© STVRBOYY — do not copy, translate, modify, or plagiarize my work. reblogs are appreciated!

[medievalcellphone]

“The history of modern democracy is, at bottom, a history with two faces, and even two bodies—the solar body, on the one hand, and the nocturnal body, on the other. The major emblems of this nocturnal body are the colonial empire and the pro-slavery state-and more precisely the plantation and the penal colony... The colonial world, as an offspring of democracy, was not the antithesis of the democratic order. It has always been its double or, again, its nocturnal face.... As Frantz Fanon indicated, this nocturnal face in effect hides a primordial and founding void—the law that originates in nonlaw and that is instituted as law outside the law. Added to this founding void is a second void—this time one of preservation. These two voids are closely imbricated in one another. Paradoxically, the metropolitan democratic order needs this twofold void, first, to give credence to the existence of an irreducible contrast between it and its apparent opposite; second, to nourish its mythological resources and better hide its underneath on the inside as well as on the outside. In other terms, the cost of the mythological logics required for modern democracies to function and survive is the exteriorization of their originary violence to third places, to nonplaces, of which the plantation, the colony, or, today, the camp and the prison, are emblematic figures.”

– Achille Mbembe, Necropolitics

[demigoddessqueens]

Masterlist 11

Writing Drabbles

Intimacy

avert your eyes

SFW writings

Match up pairings - Valkyrie // Trevor Belmont // Alucard // multi-fandom pairing //

Song 🎶 fics - Vax fic // Percy fic // Grog // Caleb // Cadeuces // Grog - fic 2 //

Song fic: multi-party - Pike/Jester/Laudna //

Pretty Little Liars 💋/Original Sin 🔪- being mouse’s sibling //

Genshin Impact - Neuvillette flirting //

Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon 🐉- aegon + writing prompt // aemond headcanons // incorrect quotes // jock 💪 aemond //

Ewan Mitchell - Martin (in the modern world) //

The Decameron - Dr Dioneo fluff // Dioneo and the artist //

Hades - making out with Moros //

Marvel

MCUniverse - Namor + female general // Paradox ⚡️ headcanons // incorrect quotes // incorrect quotes 2 // incorrect quotes 3 // incorrect quotes 4 // incorrect quotes 5 //

Werewolf by Night - Jack Russell fluff //

X-Men - relationship headcanons //

Bridgerton - Benedict SFW (+ NSFW) //

Fallout - found family + Lucy //

Dune - Chani + sister!figure //

Ultraman Rising - kenji x male!reader //

A Quiet Place: Day One - dating Eric //

Monkey Man - writing prompt ask //

Blood of Zeus ⚡️- ares x Hindu!god!reader // Dionysus with pregnant!reader + twins // hard to get Ares // can’t carry a tune 🎶 // Hermes and Apollo twins // sneaking with Poseidon // childhood friend // rise of Venus 💕 // friends of monsters // plus size reader //

Critical Role 🎲

Vox Machina - thicc thighs // (my darling) yandere // grog + sorcerer!reader // Percy + harpy kiss // yandere Vax and Percy // bard oc + scanlan // kidnapped?! // wild witch 🧙// domestic + affectionate //

Mighty Nein - hold my ale // you get separated // flirting as a bard 🎵//

Bell’s Hells - constellation Druid //

Other -

Dungeon Meshi - toshiro headcanons //

Castlevania/Nocturne 🌙 - once upon a December // Fae healer lover // fall asleep on their shoulder // Trio + modern au // lover’s voice kink // divine paladin, cleric // roasts and insults // richter + elf!reader // sugar 🍬 rush //

Assassins Creed - Kenway friend // drunk Haytham // Connor and author s/o // the cuddling type // gyaru reader // altair and day off // Altair and eagles // Malik headcanons // markings of Eden // supportive Altair //

Codexmonthly prompts

July “magic”

August “rooftop”

September “leap”

Baldurs Gate - linking pinkies // peck 💋 on lips // practicing “I love you” // Gale + insecure!body reader // blue dragon in the rain // too close to call //

Batstarion 🦇 Week 2024 - day 6 // day 7

Star Wars - Rey skywalker + reader with anxiety //

NSFW writings

Twisters 🌪️ - sweet darlin //

Critical Role 🎲

Multiparty - match freak //

Vox Machina - lover & giver // ride of your life //

Mighty Nein - your reward + round 2 //

Bell’s Hells - braius fic //

Castlevania - you taste good (ft C.R.) //

[sp00kygoddessxx]

➳Scaredy Cat➳

Unbeknownst to you, Alucard observed your movements with a keen awareness. His crimson eyes, a window to a soul steeped in darkness, followed your every step. Tonight, however, the vampire harbored no nefarious intentions. Instead, a playful curiosity flickered in the depths of his gaze—a curiosity that would soon unfold into an unexpected encounter.

As you turned a corner, the sudden appearance of Alucard emerged from the shadows, his figure materializing like a phantom. The abruptness of his presence caught you off guard, and a startled gasp escaped your lips.

"Alucard!" you exclaimed, hand pressed to your chest as you sought to steady your racing heart. "You have a way of making an entrance."

The vampire regarded you with a bemused expression, a hint of mischief glinting in his crimson eyes. "My dear, in the realm of shadows, surprises are inevitable. Did I startle you?"

You offered a sheepish smile, the remnants of adrenaline still coursing through your veins. "Just a bit. You have this uncanny ability to appear out of nowhere."

Alucard chuckled, the sound echoing through the corridor like the haunting melody of an ancient ballad. "Forgive me, my dear. I did not mean to disturb your serenity."

Despite the initial shock, a sense of calm settled over you as you met Alucard's gaze. The vampire, usually a harbinger of darkness, seemed almost human in that moment—a playful companion rather than an otherworldly entity.

"No harm done, Alucard," you reassured, your earlier fright fading into amusement. "I suppose navigating these halls comes with its own set of surprises."

The vampire inclined his head, a gesture that conveyed both acknowledgment and a silent promise. "Perhaps, my dear. But in the shadows, there is a certain beauty. Would you care to continue this nocturnal journey with me?"

With a nod, you fell into step beside Alucard, the two of you traversing the winding corridors of the Hellsing estate. As you walked, the conversation flowed seamlessly, punctuated by Alucard's enigmatic insights and your own musings on the mysteries that surrounded the organization.

Alucard turned to you, his crimson eyes softened by the gentle glow of the moon. "My dear, I owe you an apology for the unintentional scare earlier. Allow me to make amends."

Before you could respond, the vampire closed the distance between you, his gloved hands framing your face with a surprising tenderness. The air crackled with an unexpected intimacy as Alucard lowered his head, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gentle kiss.

The gesture, so uncharacteristic of the No-Life King, left you momentarily breathless. Alucard, usually a master of darkness, seemed to unravel a softer, more human side—a side that craved connection and understanding.

"I apologize, my dear, for disrupting the tranquility of your night," he murmured, his voice a velvety whisper against your skin.

A warmth spread through you, a paradoxical sensation considering the source. "Apology accepted, Alucard. It's not every day one gets kissed by the No-Life King."

A glint of amusement danced in the vampire's eyes as he pulled away, the moonlight casting a soft glow on his features. "Consider it a testament to the unpredictability of our journey through the night."

[about-faces]

I'm still loving Gotham Nocturne and I wish it was getting the love/respect/attention is deserves. I've spoken several people who haven't been reading the current Detective Comics run because they're Batmanned Out (good lord, do I get it) and they see it as just another attempt at some kind of "ultimate Batman story with Batman fighting the ultimate evil," which I strongly disagree with.

THAT SAID... as time has gone on, and the story seems to be reaching its finale, there are a few things that stand out of me as problems with this epic storyline.

1.) It's one of the most egregious examples of "writing for the trade paperback." This simply isn't a story that's meant to be read month-to-month. It's too slow, with too little "happening," at least on the superficial level. Paradoxically, it's NOT a story that should be binged! The best comparison that comes to mind is Better Call Saul, since that's the only other example of serialized media that's meticulously slow-paced yet INCREDIBLY RICH for those willing to engage with it on its level rather than expecting it to be Breaking Bad (or in Nocturne's case, a typical Batman story.) Ram V is capable of writing super-engaging monthly issues, as the fantastic Rare Flavours proves, but that brings us to...

2.) The story is sprawling. Maybe even TOO sprawling. When it comes to people who are sick of Batman, I try to sell them on the fact that this story is about GOTHAM AS A WHOLE, right down to the villains who call it home, and how everyone there is as intrinsically a part of Gotham as Batman is. But ensemble stories like that are tricky, and it makes the focus feel all over the place at times, with alternately too much and too little attention being paid to the main players, Batman included. It's a balance that was handled beautifully with Batman: The Audio Adventures, but it seems a bit more awkward here. Again, it's hard to pull off!

Like, we have characters pop up and then vanishing without explanation. We got Azrael back in the AzBats armor for the first time in decades, like, holy shit! That should be a HUGE development! And then, poof, he vanished! There's simply no time to explore Jean-Paul's character because there's so many other things the narrative needs to explore.

This feels like it would have really benefited from a companion series, something to focus on the characters the way the backup stories have done, but just more so. I think about how Peter Tomasi would write companion books to the main big storylines written by Geoff Johns, Grant Morrison, and Scott Snyder, and how he'd focus on character, which always enriched the greater "big important storyline." Which, in turn, also brings me to...

3.) The backup stories have really lost a lot of their punch since they stopped being written by Si Spurrier and were taken over by Dan Watters. Watters is incredibly capable, make no mistake, and his Cheshire/Lian Harper story is one of my favorite parts of this entire saga. But by and large, his tales focus more on the spooky and weird sides of what's happening with Nocturne, whereas Spurrier's stories were more focused on characters navigating the weirdness of the events. As a result, Spurrier gave us what I consider to be some of the very best stories about Jim Gordon, Harvey Dent, and Victor Fries ever written. I really miss those, and how they enriched Ram V's (possibly overly-ambitious) narrative.

Ultimately, Gotham Nocturne feels like the Batman equivalent to an arthouse film, which means it's going to be appreciated by a handful of nerds while leaving most other fans cold, and I can't really blame them. If anything makes me sad about all this, it's how all this incredible character work with Bruce, Harvey, Victor, Talia, and others is going to be ignored. Hell, it already is, given the complete lack of acknowledgement we've seen in other Bat-books for what's going on in Nocturne.

At this point, I just hope it sticks the landing in the finale, because I want to be able to have a complete, satisfying epic to recommend to people who want something a bit richer than the typical "guy in Bat costume punches clown" stories we usually get.

[halfakitsune-nordiluskitsunaly]

Godling siblings

ok an au that ties in to my kocat au aka the kitsuniks of ceresia. The idea is that pariah dark, nocturne, and clockwork were quite close before pariah became a tyrant, and when I say close I mean close enough it have kids. Three of them at the time: the first born who's name was lost to time, kur the king of the criptics, and the third born who was never named. For some Insane and senseless reason the observents decided that the first and third born children(the children of time and dreams, and time and war/the ghost king respectively) of the royal family should no longer exist while kur(the child of dreams and war/ghost king) should take the throne. When the obsevents shattered the core of the first born child, pariah and the ancients lashed out in grief, out of desperation clockwork and nocturne hid kur and the unborn core of the third child away effectively ensuring their safety. Pariah goes tyrant and well you know what goes from their. Then centuries later some how the shattered core of the first born child of dreams and time is mended and reborn as nora kitsunaly-kuga, kur ends up as zak saturday like Canon, and ironically enough the unborn core of time and war/ghost king is the one and only danny Fenton. Because of Nora's existence yuma Nora's twin brother ends up as a halfa with nora on their 14th birthday with danny and zak, pariah eventuality woken up but is sainish and the news is dropped on nora, yuma, zak, and danny in some undecided way, and they are then told that whoever the considere siblings will be adopted by the royal family all the while clockwork up and decides that ben tension is now his son(no paradox you do not get a say in the matter all is as it should be) boom godling siblings yall can add on to this post as you see fit

[warden-melli]

I find your headcannons really interesting and wanted to know if you had any other headcannons you haven't shared before

Thank you ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ Honestly I have more headcanons that I haven’t shared than ones that I have lol (I assume you mean pokemon/pla/Melli hcs)

I’d be happy to share some right now, but let me know if there’s any particular character/topic that you’d be interested in hearing about? Sorry if I’ve shared some of these before, but I can’t remember 100% what I have/haven’t shared before lol

PLA HEADCANONS

• While Adaman is several years older than Irida, their birthdays fall on the same day of the month, exactly 6 moths apart

• If Irida hadn’t become leader of her clan she would have pursued a career as a healer, specifically focused on traditional Hisuian herbal medicine

• Melli spends a lot of time on Mt Coronet practicing his singing. As all of his pokemon are nocturnal he often heads up there at night where he can sing undisturbed. Sometimes he sings songs with words, but often he’ll just vocalise, practicing his highs notes to no one in particular. His voice is beautiful, but can be quite eerie without context, especially to frightened travellers trying to cross the mountain range at night. He is unknowingly (yet directly) responsible for many a ghost story told across the Hisui region. Melli rejects these tales of so called spirits and disembodied voices that echo across the highlands, insisting that he’s up there all the time and has never seen or heard a thing!

• In addition to his role as Warden Iscan is also the Diamond clans head fisherman and is essential to keeping his clan fed, especially over the harsh winters. He writes journals full of poetry and stories while out on the shoreline, often inspired by traditional tales, as well as his observations of the land and the adventures he witnesses across it. Many of his works will one day end up on display in the Canalave library in modern Sinnoh

• Gaeric is actually quite a bit older than he looks. In addition to his position as warden he is also in charge of gathering wood and timber for the Pearl clan, and has an eye for finding the most high quality trees. He was taught all he knows by his mother, who previously held the position before retiring from logging. She is now in charge of replanting the trees that are cut down so that the balance of nature in Hisui is preserved

• While Irida had Palina as a rival when they were both competing for the title of leader, Adaman’s bid for the position went completely unchallenged, with no one else from his clan putting their name up for consideration. He took over the title directly from his grandfather, who was the previous leader of the Diamond Clan

• Sabi is a orphan, and her pokemon partners were directly inherited from her parents. Instead of having a sibling relationship with her pokemon (which is typical for people of the Hisuian clans) they watch over her in more of a parental way, protecting her fiercely as if she were their own

• Ingo refuses to part with his hat and coat, no matter how damaged and tattered they become after enduring years of sneasel claws. While he can’t remember his past at all, bits and pieces subconsciously come through. It’s these subconscious memories of the battling rules and formats from his previous life which leads to Ingo accidentally “inventing” the modern battling systems/rules that would later become adopted across most regions in the future. Classic bootstrap paradox. Ingo learned to battle in the future > falls to the past and “invents” the modern battle system using memories from the present > then one day many years in the future Ingo learns the modern battle system > falls to the past and…. You get the idea lol

I have a ton more to share, so let me know if you’d like to hear more ˙ᵕ˙

[piggyinthesea]

To All The Boys I’ve Hurt | 002

part two of this fic

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴄᴀʀʟᴏs sᴀɪɴᴢ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: “ᴡʜᴏ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs ᴡɪᴛʜ ɪs ɴᴏɴᴇ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴ. ᴡʜᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʜᴇʀ ɪs ɪʀʀᴇʟᴀᴠᴇɴᴛ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ sʜᴇ’s ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀs. ʀᴇsᴘᴇᴄᴛғᴜʟʟʏ, ᴍᴀᴛᴇ.”

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2k+

Finally, you replied, breaking the anticipation. Swiftly, he reciprocated, and our text chat turned into an extended conversation. Every day leading up to the Japan Grand Prix felt like a chapter in a thrilling saga. Meanwhile, your cousin covertly envied you in the background. On race day, your cousin was buzzing with excitement, and you was just happy to spend the day with her. The irony of wearing Red Bull gear in the Ferrari Paddock wasn’t something that worried you. In a white shirt with a bright-red bow in your hair, you unintentionally created a fashion paradox, blending in to the fans of Ferrari.

“I’m going to get stares from Ferrari fans. Who cares, though? Still repping Red Bull,” your cousin declared, putting the finishing touches on her makeup. Amidst your confusion, she groaned, “Dude, pulling Formula One guys without knowing the first thing about Formula One? Carlos is Ferrari’s second driver. Remember the picture I showed you yesterday?”

“Oh! That picture. Damn. I thought he was a mechanic or something. So, that’s why you were worried about them finding out about each other.” The pieces of the puzzle clicked into place, revealing a mosaic of logos on his shirt that should’ve been a dead giveaway. Maybe you weren’t the sharpest tool, but you sure dazzled.

She laughs at your cluelessness. “You ready?”

“Yeah. Let me just text Carl- Carlos, I mean.” You swore that was unintentional.

Carlos

heyy!! good luck today :)

thanks, you ;). hopefully I can see you after the race. i miss you already.

Carlos’s stomach did a delightful somersault as he smiled at your text. With his phone locked away, he transformed into his racing alter ego. He lifted his shirt, the marks from your recent escapade played peek-a-boo, hinting at the nocturnal secrets you shared.

Charles entered, strolling into the locker room with a teasing whistle. “Someone had a fun night!” Charles whistles as he dominants his space. Carlos’s skin flushes, he shamelessly smiles and looks away. It had been a while since the two of you slept together, but because the marks you left on him were dark and large, it took a while for them to fade. It had only been about a week, but the marks were still visible. Just slightly faded. Carlos blushed, skillfully deflecting the banter. With his back turned, Charles couldn’t help but notice the cryptic scratches on Carlos’s neck – an inadvertent trail of evidence.

“Cállate.” Carlos playfully deflects the subject. With Carlos’s back facing Charles, Charles begins to overly examine the familiar scratches by his neck.

Charles squints, his stomach nearly dropping at the sight. They looked too familiar.

“Fuck, Charles. Oh god.” Those scratches painted a vivid picture, and Charles unwittingly stumbled upon a clandestine affair.

Face buried in the crook of your neck, Carlos whispered, “I will forever love you, ma belle.” A whispered promise that added a thrilling layer to your entanglement.

You pull his face and lock eyes with him, “You shouldn’t, my love.”

Charles grapples with a sense of betrayal, but deep down, he understands he shouldn’t. Rationalizing that there’s no conceivable way Carlos could have known about his history with her, he questions whether Carlos would have pursued a romantic connection if he had known. The uncertainty lingers – would Carlos have slept with her if he was aware of their shared past? The internal conflict churns within Charles as he navigates the intricate web of emotions.

Carlos turns around, fully dressed, and catches the peculiar expression on Charles’s face. “What?” he inquires lightly, prompting Charles to articulate the unspoken tension hanging between them.

Charles remains silent, contemplating his words. Finally, he breaks the silence, asking, “If I tell you, will you care enough about our friendship to stop?” The gravity of his question hangs in the air, a plea for understanding and preservation of their bond.

Carlos’s stomach takes a sudden plunge as he discerns that Charles is aware of the truth. Despite this, he maintains his composure, standing firm. “What are you talking about?” Carlos asks, a mix of reluctance and fear evident in his voice. He initiated the question, yet a part of him dreads the revelation, afraid of what it might entail for their relationship.

“Devil-spawn girl, you met her. Right? Look, man, stop while you can. I’m not just speaking from jealousy; I’m speaking to you as a friend. She’s not good for you,” Charles adds, a tinge of envy coloring his cautionary words. The undertone of jealousy reveals the emotional struggle within Charles, accentuating the complexity of their friendship in the face of intertwined romantic entanglements.

“Who I have relations with is none of your concern. Whether or not you know her is irrelevant because she’s not yours. Respectfully, mate,” Carlos retorts, the tension in his voice echoing the strain on their friendship. His words hang heavily in the air, emphasizing the palpable rift that has formed between them due to the complexities of their intertwined relationships.

Charles stands frozen, his emotions a volatile mix of pity, envy, and bitterness towards his friend. The air thickens with tension as Charles grapples with the stark contrast between his evening plans and Carlos’s company with you. Unbeknownst of the unconscious glares he shoots at Carlos, the unspoken tension heightens, setting the stage for a complex unraveling of their intertwined relationships.

The prevailing tension hangs like a heavy cloud, noticeable to all, and the fleeting glimpses caught by a select few cameras reveal the glares Charles casts towards Carlos, laden with an unmistakable sorrow. The mere mention of you induces a poignant melancholy in Charles, inviting him to delve into the depths of retrospection. As he ruminates on the past, a profound sadness settles in his eyes. Charles, once confident in his efforts, now carries the weight of unfulfilled expectations and the somber realization that, despite his attentive listening and genuine regard, something essential slipped away. The undertones of sadness paint a poignant portrait of Charles wrestling with the echoes of a relationship that eluded his grasp.

Seated in the Ferrari paddock, you and your cousin become aware of the conspicuous glances from Ferrari fans due to her Red Bull attire. Undeterred, she dismisses the judgmental looks and immerses herself in the exclusive privileges offered within the paddock during the races, reveling in the unique experience despite the disapproving gazes.

Immersed in the race, you find joy in the shared experience with your cousin. Her occasional muttering of random facts about specific teams and cars adds an endearing layer to the moment, and you can’t help but appreciate her cute enthusiasm for the intricacies of the Formula One world. The blend of excitement and shared knowledge enhances the overall enjoyment of the race day.

The proximity to the racing cars unveils a revelation – the sheer speed is beyond comprehension until you witness it up close. They fly by in a blur, leaving an ephemeral imprint. The experience is awe-inspiring, highlighting the marvels achievable through engineering and mechanics. As two red cars streak by in rapid succession, the spectacle becomes a testament to the thrilling capabilities of modern racing technology.

“You fucked one of those drivers and are about to fuck the other, you know?” Your cousin delivers the statement with unabashed candor, injecting a provocative and cheeky vibe into the conversation. The bold remark intensifies the atmosphere, creating a moment of shared amusement amidst the high-speed drama of the racing event.

A sharp nudge to her waist accompanies your response, “You’re annoying, you know.” The physical gesture punctuates your playful reproach, capturing the mix of irritation and camaraderie that defines your dynamic with your cousin during this candid exchange.

The mischievous thought crosses your mind: “Should I blow her mind?” You contemplate, “I hooked up with Carlos. Yesterday. While you were away…” The revelation hangs in the air, adding an unexpected twist to the conversation and leaving room for your cousin’s stunned reaction.

Her wide-eyed stare lingers for a moment before she exclaims, "You can't keep getting away with this! You can't keep getting away with this. You have to share your Formula One connections with me, get me a date with Max Verstappen, please!" The volume of her voice fluctuates, creating a crescendo of excitement that culminates in a more subdued plea for a connection with the renowned driver. The mix of astonishment and her final, almost whispered, request adds a layer of humor to the exchange.

Amused by her request, you laugh and respond, “I don’t know who that is. I’m assuming a race car driver. How would I even bring that up with Carlos?” Your lighthearted tone underscores the irony of the situation, emphasizing your lack of familiarity with the Formula One world despite the amusing connection you’ve formed.

Her plea tugs at your empathy as she begs, “Please. I really admire him. At least try, for me?” The earnestness in her request adds a touch of sincerity, prompting you to consider fulfilling her wish despite your limited knowledge of the racing world.

Charmed by her puppy-dog eyes, you find yourself relenting, and with a smile, you say, "OK." The exchange captures a moment of playful acquiescence, highlighting the good-natured rapport between you and your cousin in the midst of the Formula One excitement.

As the race concludes, Max Verstappen secures pole position, triggering an exuberant outburst from your cousin that resonates across the paddock, much to the dismay of nearby Ferrari drivers. Charles Leclerc claims second place, and you stand in awkward silence. However, when Carlos Sainz secures third place, your natural inclination takes over, and you can’t help but cheer for him, adding a touch of personal investment to the racing outcome.

A sudden realization strikes you – back when you first met Carlos, you mentioned having a connection with "one" of the Ferrari drivers. It becomes evident that Carlos understood it was Charles. This revelation carries a subtle sense of a lie, as the shared history between you and Charles unveils itself, introducing a nuanced layer to your interactions.

Carlos was aware all along. Initially uncertain if you knew he was the other Ferrari driver, he strategically used this ambiguity to his advantage. Concealing this knowledge, he anticipated the moment you would eventually find out, a revelation he calculated to unfold today. The intricate dance of secrets and revelations adds a complex dimension to the dynamics between you and Carlos.

Contemplating the situation, you question whether you should be mad. Despite realizing Carlos wasn’t overtly hiding anything, you find yourself not feeling angry. It’s clear that he’s aware you know, and you decide it’s better to take the initiative and text first, acknowledging the unspoken understanding between you two. The choice reflects a measured and composed approach to the unfolding revelation.

Carlos

hey, great race. we need to talk.

sent 5:44

In the wake of your text, Carlos doesn’t respond immediately. However, considering the circumstances, it wouldn’t be unusual, given that you witnessed him getting interviewed right after stepping off the platform. The anticipation builds as you await his response amidst the post-race interview.

As Carlos grappled with nerves, he remained oblivious to the fact that you had texted him, plunging further into the depths of overthinking and the looming uncertainty. The weight of nervousness settled on Carlos as he pondered: Were you contemplating ending things with him? Would this mark the conclusive end of what you both shared?

Carlos’s worries were momentarily eclipsed by the barrage of questions from reporters. As they interviewed the top three drivers, Carlos paid little attention, offering pre-scripted responses to the usual inquiries about the race. The mundane discussions about cars after a race failed to captivate him. All he craved was rest. Despite his job involving a significant amount of sitting, the act of driving, fueled by a constant surge of adrenaline, drained most of his energy.

The seemingly endless interview finally concluded, and Carlos, yearning for relief, made his way back to the locker room. Once there, the first order of business was checking his phone. The anticipation lingered as he sought a moment of reprieve from the relentless scrutiny of post-race interviews.

her

hey, great race. we need to talk.

I’m sorry. Does this change anything?

sent 6:04

A surge of anxiety fills Carlos’s stomach as he gazes at his phone, the weight of your response pressing down on him.

Charles, breaking the post-race silence, and speculates, “She knows, doesn’t she? I remember she wasn’t much of a Formula One fan – if it wasn’t for her cousin, she probably wouldn’t know about it at all.” As he speaks, he nonchalantly unzips his suit and steps out, introducing an air of uncertainty into the atmosphere.

Carlos bristled with heat at Charles's mention of you, irritated by the presumptuous familiarity. The unfolding drama in the room intensified as Charles spoke, assuming a connection that didn't truly exist. The clash between perception and reality heightened the tension, setting the stage for an unspoken confrontation. Despite the escalating drama, Carlos chose to maintain civility, concealing the internal turmoil beneath the surface.

“I guess. Mate, can I just please ask you to be happy for me, though?” Carlos’s voice carried a vulnerability, adding a poignant layer to the conversation. The plea for understanding and support injected a subtle emotional complexity into their interaction.

“I don’t know if I pity or envy you, Carlos. I respect you enough to let you make your own decisions, just don’t wear your heart on your sleeve.” Charles’s words, tinged with a mix of conflicting emotions, reflect the intricate dynamics of their relationship. The subtle blend of pity, envy, and respect adds a layer of complexity, emphasizing the challenge Carlos faces in navigating his personal life within the scrutiny of their shared world.

The remainder of the time in the locker room unfolded in silence. Carlos pondered Charles’s words, dissecting them for any hidden meanings. Before he knew it, solitude enveloped him, leaving him alone with his thoughts as Charles had long departed. The hushed aftermath resonated with the weight of unspoken tensions and internal reflections.

her

I like you Carlos. But, if you knew this entire time I had an old fling with Charles, why’d you continue talking to me?

I like you. A lot. That’s why I didn’t stop. I know it was selfish. I’m sorry.

It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize, not to me at least. This won’t change anything between us <3.

🩷🩷

Carlos swiftly transitions from his racing attire to regular clothes, and with a lingering tension in the air, he texts his sister, seeking a favor. Her inevitable questions follow, but Carlos remains tight-lipped, adding an air of mystery to the unfolding narrative. The unspoken urgency and secrecy intensify the atmosphere surrounding Carlos’s actions.

Shortly after the race concluded, you made a quick exit. Your cousin, eager for a Starbucks fix, pleaded for a post-race treat, and you gladly accepted. Amidst sips of your usual refresher and bites of a croissant, family topics took center stage. Engaged in a light-hearted banter, you and your cousin delved into gossip about each other’s aunts, playfully arguing over whose aunt held the title of the worst. It was evident that your mom, despite her protective nature, wasn’t the contender for the unfavorable title. Laughter filled the air as you shared embarrassing memories, creating a moment of connection and amusement in the aftermath of the race.

An hour post-race, you and your cousin returned to the hotel after the Starbucks run. Walking side by side through the hotel corridors, you reached your door and were greeted by an elegant black circular box. A shared look of confusion passed between you and your cousin as you brought the mysterious box inside and closed the door. In a moment of playful speculation, you humorously considered the potential plot twist of a Russian spy story, teasing the idea of the box possibly ending in an explosive surprise.

Relief washed over you as the box revealed its true nature – not a secret bomb, but a thoughtful gift. Opening it, you were greeted by the sight of delicate light pink roses gracefully arranged within, accompanied by a simple white note. The contrast between the initial intrigue and the subsequent tender gesture added a touch of sweetness to the unfolding narrative.

“Huh? Roses… poor guy couldn’t do better,” your cousin muttered, eyeing the box with a hint of playful teasing. Her comment added a lighthearted touch, injecting humor into the moment as you both assessed the unexpected floral gift.

You read the note out loud, “For my Devil-Spawn girl. -C.S.” The term “Devil-Spawn girl” echoed in the room, leaving a hint of uncertainty and perhaps an unappreciated tone in the air. The unexpected endearment carried an unconventional touch that stirred a mix of emotions.

“How cute. Carlos sent this. Why’d he call you devil-spawn girl? Is there some sort of secret meaning between the two of you?” Your cousin inquired, her gaze fixed on the brand as she meticulously counted each individual rose. Immersed in her curiosity, she simultaneously typed into her phone, adding a layer of intrigue to the unfolding mystery.

“Huh… not that I know of.” Your curiosity piqued, you leaned in, dipping your nose into the box. The lovingly strong scent of fresh roses enveloped you, carrying with it a unique aroma akin to rainwater – something that might not conventionally be considered pleasant but held a distinct charm that you vouched for. The sensory experience added an intimate and personal touch to the unfolding scene.

Your cousin, visibly astonished and perhaps a tad envious, expressed her disbelief as she learned about the actual price, which hovered around fifteen hundred dollars. “Woah! The price for these flowers. I completely retract my statement from before; this guy definitely went all out.” Her mix of emotions added a dynamic layer to the unfolding narrative, blending surprise, envy, and a revised perspective on Carlos’s gesture.

You scoot over to her, curiosity getting the better of you, and peer at her phone, eager to catch a glimpse of what she’s discovering or typing.

The Million Roses. 

The brand on the box matched what appeared on her phone, and the resemblance was strikingly identical. While acknowledging the undeniable beauty of the roses, you couldn't help but find them excessively expensive. A tinge of practicality crept in, contemplating that regular flowers from a vendor would have sufficed just as nicely. Carlos, however, chose the most extravagant bouquet. The realization sparked a mix of admiration and practical consideration – the amount spent on these roses could have bought him double the flowers at a street vendor, simultaneously making a positive impact on their lives.

You sent Carlos a quick thank-you text, and after a brief delay, he responded, apologizing for the wait. The conversation shifted as he inquired about your day. While you shared that it was good for the most part, you couldn’t help but admit that by the end of the day, your social battery had completely drained from being around so many people.

+1 838-738-7272

Hi.

The anonymous message perked your curiosity and though the alarms in your head rang stranger danger, you couldn’t help but reply.

who’s this?

Sorry, I was unaware you had deleted my number, I guess it’s been a while. It’s Charles.

[ferberus-skull]

right off the bat we start with. this. ... okay.

[numberonetacostan]

in honor of me being sleepy i’m thinking about how taco acts when she’s sleepy

i still love the hc that beds are uncomfortable for her (discovered via this blog, thank you <3). she can fall asleep in the most uncomfortable places ever (chairs, floor, random crawl spaces, etc) but by god she will not fall asleep in an actual bed

i also really like the idea of her being a light sleeper, especially while in the hotel. she gets irritated bc every little sound is keeping her awake and she’s getting no sleep, but nobody else knows what she’s talking about bc it’s all background noise the them

nocturnal taco my beloved. it would totally mess her up if she had to suddenly alter her sleep schedule while living at the hotel. can hardly stay awake during the day and gets a burst of energy at like 8 pm that makes it impossible to fall asleep which sucks when people only seem to want to talk to her while all she wants to do is go to bed

i think she’d have a hard time getting used to it at first, but would absolutely love being practically surrounded by warm blankets and a variety of clothing (most of which is probably mic’s). being able to actually warm herself up when it’s cold instead of just suffering would be so nice to her, no more losing sleep bc her limbs are going numb from cold. put her in a pile of warm blankets and she’s out in minutes

hi sleepy anon!!!!!^^ Thank you for submitting hcs about sleepy Taco!!!!!!! :D I love sleeping so very much so sleepy hcs bring me great joy!!!

OMGAOMGAOMGA <3<3<3 i am so so glad you discovered a hc via my blog!!!!!!!!!!! :,D!!!!!! Yes she can fall sleep in the walls, underneath furniture, inside of drawers, in random corners, etc., etc., but not on a bed!!! She has never been that comfortable and paradoxically that means she just can't settle and relax. She needs to be bed-trained hehehe!!! Or the alternative that I'm going to come back to for the last hc!!!!!^^^^

Oh yeah, living in the woods she had to keep her ears out for danger!!!! So now she's keyed into everything, all the time!!! I really really like the idea that Taco sleeps in Mic's headphones to block out all of the noises!!!!^^ But yeah between that and my steadfast headcanon that Taco is autistic, she probably is bugged by a lot of noises most of the others don't pick up on. Mic might even be able to help figure out what's making those noises with her super-hearing, but that's another hc entirely ;).

Yes yes!!!! She has become nocturnal over the years!!! Safer to be out at night- between avoiding danger, other contestants, and stealing food, yeah? Sweet angel is so very sleepy all day!!! Though she'd also be quite nervous around all the others, which would be keeping her awake, so she'd probably be tired and miserable. Especially since she is trying very hard to be helpful and good so Mic is happy with her and she isn't outcasted again. I'm sure there are quite a few other night owls in the cast, so Taco isn't the only one staying up late, but it would definitely take her quite some time to flip her sleep schedule to being any semblance of diurnal, especially with the previous discussed sleep issues she has.

NEST NEST NEST NEST!!!!! GIVE THAT TACO A NEST!!!!! A pile of warm blankets and clothing from her people would be so perfect for her!! And would help her when getting used to living in a home!!! It's a good way to transition between sleeping anywhere but a bed to sleeping on a bed!! A cozy place, but not too cozy that it's uncomfortable for her, yeah!!!! Being able to sleep warm would mean so much to her for real!! She had so much trouble sleeping but once they worked things out with headphones and a nest rather than a bed she's out in minutes, the most well-rested she has even been. Makes becoming a better person much easier!!!!!^^ I can see her being a lot calmer and just overall better when she's healthier with plenty of good sleep and a healthy, plentiful diet!!!!!!^^

[impossiblyholyparadise]

Un souvenir et une anecdote supplémentaire pour vous expliquer mon candaulisme :

Une autre soirée fut aussi tout autant une étape importante dans mon chemin vers le Candaulisme...

Une soirée étudiante ou presque d’Ana ma petite amie de l’époque.

Etudiante brillante et consciencieuse, elle avait voulu participer au fait que je lui avais ouvert mon appartement totalement et spontanément pour l’aider à réaliser ses études dès le premier jour de notre rencontre...

Quelques conflits récurrents avec ses parents lui pesaient.

Elle me les avait confiés le soir même de notre rencontre et je m’en étais aussi ému...

J’étais aussi pleinement amoureux...

Aussi, nous habitions ensemble depuis quelques mois sans que jamais je ne lui demande rien en retour.

Elle en était consciente et voulait-elle aussi participer.

Mener de front études et travail est un défi et un challenge où l’organisation et le rythme imposé sont parfois peu compatibles avec l’amour, les résultats et la fatigue...Elle le savait mais indirectement elle pensait me devoir tant sans pour autant ne lui avoir jamais rien réclamé en retour, ce qu’elle appréciait aussi beaucoup.

Elle avait quelques fois abordé le sujet mais je ne lui répondais toujours que d’un sourire, lui disant de vivre, de profiter, d’aimer, de travailler et d’être la plus heureuse possible...

Je crois, et je sais maintenant, que tout cela est aussi une racine profonde du Candaulisme...

Néanmoins, et c’est assez paradoxal, ce furent ses études qui lui permirent un jour de prétendre à un travail...

Il s’agissait en début d’année étudiante, sa deuxième année, d’être présente à la sortie des amphis et d’inviter et de sensibiliser ses jeunes collègues étudiants de première année à lire et surtout à s’abonner à des magazines divers et variés leur permettant d’élargir leurs connaissances dans des domaines voisins et importants de leurs sujets d’étude...

Aussi, se rendait elle en équipe pendant les quatre ou cinq  premières semaines de la rentrée dans les amphis, de tôt le matin jusqu’à parfois tard le soir, agrémenté de virées nocturnes dans les bars à étudiants de la ville.

Il le fallait selon les recommandations du responsable des ventes pour souder les équipes et faire connaissance de plus de monde encore au travers les premières soirées estudiantines organisées pour la cohésion des futures promotions...

Aussi, après des débuts enjoués et prometteurs sur le plan financier (chaque abonnement certifié faisait l’objet d’une ristourne de l’éditeur et comme il s’agissait d’abonnements annuels, les émoluments pouvaient parfois être réellement intéressants...) une certaine fatigue et quelques désagréments brisant notre agréable routine de jeune couple virent le jour.

Un rythme de travail assez effréné était demandé ainsi qu’une grande disponibilité pour « écumer » les facs de la grande ville où nous habitions...

Nous ne nous voyons plus beaucoup et mon appartement servait surtout de base arrière pour les présentoirs et les exemplaires des magazines et autres quotidiens en vente.

La fatigue se faisait réellement sentir et moi je devenais surtout celui qui l’hébergeait, lui faisait à manger (repas qu’elle prenait en fait rarement car son équipe très dynamique et pour tout dire « fêtarde » allait très souvent « célébrer » les résultats des uns et des autres dans un bar pour encore et toujours souder les équipes commerciales et profiter des contacts étudiants qui pouvaient s’y faire encore plus aisément autour d’un verre...

Aussi, sur le plan sentimental et sexuel, c’était plutôt la disette...

Dur, dur pour moi alors que d’ordinaire, nous étions rarement plusieurs heures sans nous câliner et sûrement pas et encore moins un jour......

Un petit « cérémonial » s’était néanmoins instauré car je crois qu’elle m’aimait sincèrement, pâtissait aussi de cette situation et s’en sentait un peu coupable même si la fierté de ramener de l’argent dans notre couple la motivait et la recompensait.

Ainsi, chaque soir (plutôt en milieu de nuit du coup...) où elle rentrait, juste après s’être douchée et alors que j’étais bien souvent endormi, elle venait me câliner, me prendre en main sexuellement parlant (elle aimait depuis nos premiers jours mon sexe, sa forme, sa douceur...)

Bref elle aimait ma bite, jouer avec pour me faire bander...

Chose qu’elle obtenait très rapidement au vu de sa dextérité et de ses envies manifestes...

En trentenaire ardent et vaillant, qui aurait pu s’en plaindre... ?

Elle me prenait alors rapidement en bouche pour me sucer (elle raffolait des fellations... !) et me taillait une pipe experte, souvent rapide en ces circonstances mais toujours appréciée, appréciable, adroite et victorieuse...

J’en appréciais totalement le bonheur tout en devant souvent rester sur ma faim et sur « la béquille » tandis que, quasiment à chaque fois, elle s’endormait en me gratifiant d’un « Bonne nuit mon amour », la bouche pleine et comblée de l’expression de mes désirs et de mon plaisir...

Elle aimait le gout de ma semence, l’avalait depuis toujours et l’appréciait...

Jamais elle ne m’avait sucé sans déguster le fruit de ses audaces et expertises.

Parfois même, elle me déposait un baiser légèrement gluant et chaud sur les lèvres...

Au début de notre relation j’en avais été surpris mais m’étais habitué et trouvais cela touchant en termes de partages et d’audace...

Ce rituel effectué, elle se tournait rapidement puis s’endormait profondément tout aussitôt...

Profondément était le terme : j’avais une ou deux fois, dans un état érectile indécent et difficile à calmer, n’arrivant réellement pas à m’endormir, voulu la prendre mais devant son corps si tendrement abandonné, j’avais résisté à l’envie de le faire sans son consentement express, même si rien ne pouvait me faire douter de ses désirs une seconde, pour la pénétrer sauvagement...

Elle ne m’en aurait pas voulu...

Non, j’en étais pleinement assuré et je pense même qu’elle aurait pu percevoir cela comme tout à fait légitime, voire même coquin...

Mais pour moi sans conscience et sans consentement il n’en était pas question...

Question de principe, de respect, d’honneur et tout autant de bonheur du partage.

S’en serait-elle même aperçue... ?

Du coup, pour quel plaisir... ?

Si je ne pouvais partager, je trouvais assez absurde de ne satisfaire que moi...

Oui, elle dormait très profondément !

Pour autant, souvent pris par les désirs et la beauté de son corps alangui qu’elle abandonnait parfaitement et naturellement à ma vue, (elle ne dormait que nue et y tenait),  je la caressais tendrement, bandant là encore comme un fou, et la couvrais de baisers ...

Le spectacle de son corps abandonné et offert sans défense enchantait et régalait au plus haut point mes yeux... Et pas que...

Ce n’était rien qu’en cela et déjà un réel bonheur...

Je dois confesser que parfois, il m’arrivait même de me masturber en la regardant, si belle, innocente, ...

 Je m’autorisais aussi de mes lèvres et de ma langue à la humer, la titiller sans la réveiller, la couvrir de baisers et notamment sur son sexe...

Quelques gémissements parfaits attestaient qu’elle ressentait sûrement mes attouchements sans pour autant en être réveillée... C’était réellement délicieux...

Oui, je me satisfaisais et même me régalais de tout cela à défaut de pouvoir lui faire l’amour comme j’en avais envie et l’honorer pleinement comme à nos habitudes...

Cependant, un soir, elle rentra un peu plus tard et vint directement se coucher...

Elle ne manqua pas pour autant à nos nouvelles habitudes et me suça talentueusement, avec même une gourmandise et une ardeur qui me rappelaient les pipes interminables dont elle était experte et adorait me gratifier avant d’incorporer cette équipe commerciale et qui j’en étais sûr ne tarderaient pas à reprendre une fois cette parenthèse économique terminée...

Je fus bien entendu ravi de sa prestation et lorsqu’elle vint m’embrasser à pleine bouche avec délectation et gourmandises, je perçus un goût légèrement différent du mien et de l’ordinaire...

Je n’en fis pas un problème et mis cette différence sur le compte de l’alcool et de la soirée festive qu’elle venait manifestement de passer...

Je la laissais s’endormir et poursuivis seul mon cérémonial...

Non douchée et manifestement très fatiguée, certainement assez ivre, elle ne s’était pas couchée nue comme d’habitude à mon grand étonnement mais avait conservé sa robe légère de soirée ainsi que son string que je pouvais deviner alors qu’elle se lovait sur le côté remontant ses jambes et redressant du coup sa courte robe sur le galbe de ses sublimes fesses...

Comme d’habitude, je ne résistais pas au plaisir de la couvrir de baisers et de caresses me sentant même encore plus entrain de la voir m’être revenue guillerette et heureuse, encore plus que d’ordinaire de sa soirée...J’aimais la voir heureuse et satisfaite...

Poursuivant mes « voyages », je relevais d’avantage sa robe sur son cul...

Je baisais de mes lèvres entreprenantes ses fesses et m’approchais de sa fente...

J’avais pris l’habitude, quoiqu’il arrive d’y déposer tous les soirs un baiser et même parfois d’oser y introduire légèrement la pointe de ma langue afin de gouter aux douces saveurs de sa chatte aux effluves pour moi si envoutantes...Elles berçaient, enchantaient et embaumaient ainsi quoiqu’il arrive mes nuits d’une telle douceur...

J’entrepris alors de mes doigts agiles de déplacer légèrement son string, sans la réveiller, car la ficelle fermait partiellement l’accès à sa délicieuse fente...

Je fis glisser le trait d’étoffe de mes doigts et qu’elle ne fut pas ma surprise de constater qu’il était complétement trempé et même qu’une sorte de méat un peu gluant semblait y être déposé...

Une jouissance... ? Du sperme... ?

L’ire et ma jalousie prirent immédiatement le contrôle de mon cerveau et de mes émotions

J’en restais, mentalement et physiquement sur le cul...Le sang affluant et bouillonnant dans mon esprit et mon corps...

Elle avait baisé... !

Elle avait dû baiser avec un autre... !

Un autre que moi dans cette putain de soirée...Et dans ce con qui était censé n’être qu’à moi... !

Je me sentais dans une telle rage, une telle colère...

Que faire... ?

Assis sur mes genoux, la regardant avec des yeux totalement différents de l’habitude...

Son string encore là...tout souillé du sperme d’un autre...j’en étais sûr...!

Instinctivement j’approchais mon visage et mon nez jusqu’ à y porter mes narines puis ma langue...

Oui, oui, c’était ce même goût que j’avais identifié dans le baiser donné avant qu’elle ne s’endorme...

La salope ! Elle m’avait trompé cette chienne..., c’était sûr...

Cette salope, ma salope... !

Ma chienne alors qu’on s’était toujours promis d’être complice quelque fut notre ou nos envies... !

Néanmoins, je ne parvenais pas à décoller mon regard de son cul et de son sexe encore gonflé et emplit d’un autre...Non je n’y parvenais pas, et même en moi j’arrivais à trouver des ressources et un calme doux qui maintenant m’envahissait…

J’avais bien des « papillons » dans le ventre..., un vertige dans la tête...

Mais étonnamment, pas ou plus de colère... !

A tel point que je me suis de nouveau penché...

De nouveau j’ai humé ce méat que je ne pouvais même plus détester... !

Son string était tellement imprégné de la mouille et de son odeur qu’il en devenait agréable, tant à la vue qu’à l’imaginaire...Oh oui elle avait du réellement jouir...

Je ne pus m’empêcher de retourner le sentir, le toucher, le « tester » même de mes narines...

Plusieurs fois...

Le goûter même...

Puis d’instants en instants jusqu’à la lécher consciencieusement, minutieusement avec, je devais me l’avouer, un plaisir grandissant, subjuguant et effaçant de manière incroyable toute colère ...

J’en profitais abondamment...J’aimais... !

J’en étais stupéfait mais j’aimais... !

J’aimais surtout à m’imaginer la saillie qu’elle avait subi, la saillie de son con et le plaisir qu’elle, qu’ils avaient dû connaitre...Je n’étais même pas jaloux de ne pas y avoir été...

Un peu vexé...j’aurais préféré que pour une première, même si je lui avais déjà confié ce fantasme du mari trompé avec son plein acquiescement mais présent...Elle était allée plus loin...

Plus vite même que je n’avais secrètement jamais imaginé ou désiré...

Pour autant c’est un rêve secret dont je lui avais fait la confidence et que par bravade je l’avais assurée que je ne serais pas jaloux...

En fait, si un peu, mais pas si fortement que cela ...

Assurément déçu qu’on n’ait pas partagé cette première et de ne pas avoir l’histoire de cette incartade ni d’avoir pu y assister...

Lorsqu’on en avait parlé et évoqué elle ne m’avait pas caché la possibilité que cela puisse arriver tant elle aimait le sexe, attirait les hommes et avait conscience de ses désirs et de ses faiblesses...

De plus, en lui ayant fait la confidence de ce Candaulisme naissant que je sentais déjà vivre en moi, je ne pouvais rien lui reprocher...

Elle avait seulement anticipé mes désirs et peut-être plaisirs...

Je ne les avais pas imaginés de la sorte et s’imposer aussi brutalement à moi...

Pour autant, qu’en restait-il pour moi... ?

Je venais de le constater...Je le constatais en direct...

Du plaisir, de la cérébralité, de l’amour pour le sexe, de l’amour pour elle, des envies...

Encore plus d’envies ...

Encore plus de désirs et d’amour pour elle comme je l’avais imaginé et quelque part voulu et demandé...Alors... ?

Plus encore quand je me rendis compte que je bandais comme un taureau et ne débandais pas alors que de longues minutes s’étaient déjà passées a regarder, que dis-je, admiré et fantasmé sur sa chatte épanouie, belle et manifestement comblée et heureuse...

 Je n’avais ainsi, à cet instant, que l’irrésistible envie de la baiser comme la chienne qu’elle était, celle que j’avais souhaité qu’elle soit...

Oui, je bandais comme un fou et contrairement à ma réserve et mes principes des soirs auparavant, je l’ai prise sauvagement, bestialement, jusqu’à la faire jouir comme peut-être jamais, ni elle ni moi-même n’avions jouis comme cela depuis longtemps et sommes partis dans un orgasme fulgurant et absolu qui me faisait de nouveau encore plus encore bander, devenir fou d’elle, fou de son corps, fou de son con, fou de ses jus...

Elle s’était réveillée...Jouissait ...hurlait...m’en demandait encore et encore... !

C’était incroyable... ! Irréel... !

Nous avons fait cinq ou six fois l’amour cette nuit-là  sans jamais nous lasser et nous nous sommes endormis tendrement l’un dans les bras de l’autre...

Au petit matin, elle est venue sensuellement me réveiller, me remercier de cette folle nuit et de la liberté que j’avais pu lui accorder, me disant qu’elle avait tant rêvé dans ses fantasmes les plus insensés de ce genre de nuit...

Elle me dit que toute cette intensité et ces besoins sexuels lui avaient manqués depuis un certain temps et son incorporation dans cette team de vente...Nous n’avions quasi plus le temps de faire l’amour... !

Que cette nuit un homme plus âgé mais beau lui avait fait du rentre dedans, l’avait fait boire, l’avait séduite et convaincue de passer à l’acte sans même me prévenir (elle était bien consciente de ce manque mais m’ayant informé que cela pouvait arriver et moi lui ayant tant parlé de ce fantasme du mari trompé consciemment... elle s’était dit avant de s’abandonner totalement à lui dans les toilettes du bar que cela ne changerait rien aux choses et que si notre amour était bien réel et celui qu’elle m’avait décrit et toujours imaginé était bien présent, alors cela ne poserai pas de problème...)

Oui elle s’en voulait de ne pas avoir pu le vivre avec moi en direct live...

Oui elle s’en voulait de ne pas me l’avoir dit directement en rentrant...

Elle ne voulait pas m’inquiéter et me priver de notre petit rituel jouissif et s’était endormie si ravie, heureuse et comblée surtout quand elle avait osé ce baiser fou dont elle avait si souvent rêvé, mêlant le sperme de cet amant de passage au mien dont elle appréciait tant la saveur...

Oui, bien évidemment elle l’avait sucé, avant, et surtout après qu’il l’ai prise sur un lavabo des toilettes communes du bar et alors qu’il s’essuyait le dard encore gorgé de semence sur son string qu’il avait adroitement écarté pour la pénétrer sauvagement, elle l’avait de nouveau sucé ... !

Accompagnés d’un autre couple se livrant aux mêmes exploits sexuels qu’eux, elle avait indirectement fait une compétition avec l’autre fille qui était par ailleurs sa chalengeuse pour obtenir une prime supplémentaire en raison du nombre de magazines vendus tout au long de leur journée de labeur...

La compétition faisait rage et n’avait pas de limite...

La fille s’était tournée vers la glace surmontant le lavabo pour se refaire une discrète beauté...

Ana avait ressaisi le sexe de son partenaire et l’avait embouché pour le nettoyer scrupuleusement...

Oui ; elle craquerait sûrement sur d’autres, en d’autres lieux, en d’autres soirées, avec moi, sans moi, Elle aimait trop ça... !

Elle m’aimait à la folie... !

Tout comme elle aimait plus que tout sa liberté.

Elle m’assurait qu’elle saurait me récompenser au-delà de mes attentes si je lui procurais tout à la fois la sécurité et la folie de cette impensable liberté...

Dans les vapeurs de la nuit, j’acquiesçais à tout ce qu’elle disait...

Ses aveux étaient si authentiques, touchants et somme toute correspondant tellement à mes aspirations les plus secrètes que je lui pardonnais instantanément et pour toujours...

Elle parti comme d’ordinaire et nous n’avons plus jamais eut à parler de ces instants.

D’autres similaires se reproduiraient...

Beaucoup d’autres à mon et notre plus grand bonheur... !

Je savais qu’elle pourrait de nouveau me tromper...

Sans moi,...Avec moi...Peu importerait pourvu qu'elle me revienne et me conte ses exploits...

Elle savait qu’elle pourrait me tromper...

Nous savions l’un et l’autre ...mais nous le savions maintenant...

Et surtout nous en jouissions si intensément que nous n’en avons jamais eu à en reparler.

Je savais que j’étais réellement Candauliste...

Elle savait qu’elle était une terrible baiseuse, une amante hors-pair et là, maintenant devenue une Hot-Wife comme les nomment les anglo-saxons...

Pour le plaisir de tout le monde, le sien d’abord, le mien, celui de ses futurs amants celui d’avoir une vie sexuelle, libre, riche, épanouie et épanouissante...

Nous en avons réellement profité toutes ces années de fac...

Un jour elle partit étudier définitivement à l’étranger...

Cela ne changea rien...

Ni pour elle, devenue près d’un de ses professeurs de Fac américaine et beaucoup plus âgé qu’elle, la Hot-Wife respectable et respectée qu’elle avait toujours voulu être, la lady américaine classe et parfaite le jour et aux désirs "naughty" de chaque instant...Un des paradoxes de l'Amérique...

Moi, je lui dois d'être devenu pour toujours Candauliste...

Je me souviens tant et avec tant d’émotions, parfois même érectiles, de ces instants où j’ai découvert son string imbibé de sperme, admiré, vu et goûté sa chatte gonflée de plaisir, partagé tant et tant de fois avec elle ces plaisirs et d’autres ensemble, cette philosophie et ce style de vie...

J’ai parfois eu des nouvelles et surtout j’ai toujours eu depuis ses confidences érotiques écrites par mail sur un site dédié à ces pratiques outre-Atlantique, ses délires et ses escapades sexuelles...

Elle s’en était fait un principe de me les dire, comme un légitime devoir envers moi.

Je ne lui demandais rien mais forte et fière de cette liberté que j’avais su lui donner, elle m’informait toujours, parfois même avant son mari, de ses rencontres et péripéties sexuelles variées et nombreuses...

C’est encore aujourd’hui le cas et c’est si bon et intense...

Elle est même devenue BBC, je n'en fus pas surpris connaissant les descriptions des Blacks qu'elle pouvait parfois rencontrer à la Fac et qui à chaque fois qu'elle m'en faisait la confidence la mettait dans des états torrides dont je profitais allègrement...

Moi, j’étais devenu et serais Candauliste pour la vie...

Merci à elle....Merci Ana...Je t’ai enseigné la liberté...Tu es bonne élève, tu as dépassé et il en est fier et heureux, le « maitre »...

[talonabraxas]

The significance of this day

Day Acatl (Reed, known as Ben in Maya) is governed by Tezcatlipoca as its provider of tonalli (Shadow Soul) life energy. Acatl is the scepter of authority which is, paradoxically, hollow. It is a day when the arrows of fate fall from the sky like lightningbolts. A good day to seek justice, a bad day to act against others.

Tezcatlipoca Talon Abraxas

Tezcatlipoca is the Smoking Mirror.

He is the god of the nocturnal sky, god of the ancestral memory, god of time and the Lord of the North, the embodiment of change through conflict.

Together with his eternal opposite Quetzalcoatl, he created the world. In this process, Tezcatlipoca lost his foot when he used it as bait for the Earth Monster Cipactli. As a god of creation he is known as Ipalnemoani, "He by whom we live".

Tezcatlipoca has many aspects. As Tezcatlipoca Yaotl ("Enemy") he is the patron of the warrior, as Tezcatlipoca Telpochtli he stands for eternal youth. Other names are Necocyaotl ("Enemy of Both Sides"), Tloque Nahuaque ("Lord of the Near and Far") and Yohualli Ehecatl (Night Wind), Ome acatl ("Two Reed") and Ilhuicahua Tlalticpaque ("Possessor of the Sky and Earth").

[the-sum-of-many-poets]

mineral slippers

caught in their nocturnal jump

seems the stars

vanitas that they are

poured themselves into a salt lake

its phantom wake

a saucer of milk before dawn

sun

rise you diligent baker

we make animal tracks in its crust

disobedient cubs

etching our own hieroglyphs

soothsayers

the wood swallow

the lace monitor so long it licks the horizon

& me

the greater bilby

we call from the rosetta stone

to the nothingness

as great voids compel us to do

moot on existential absurdities

elevate a flake to the sun

at certain angles

a prism switches on

in tribute to the rain

a cryptic response locked inside

amplifies when it touches the tongue

the famine of colour is a paradox

white holds the quiet like a bell jar

as if a century seized in its own cog

©️david sichler

[brizadeiro-doce]

🇬🇧 My project sekai AU .°*

— !!!! This AU contains abusive dynamics and abuse of substances ! Antis dni + block 🚭

Echoes of Reverie: A Band AU

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

E choes of Reverie is a band AU set in the streets of London around 2014-2016 (maybe i will stick with 2014). It has 6 main units/bands inspired on real-life bands (all chosen randomly by my playlist). They are recognized so they don't follow the og formula. You can read + find more info about it on my AO3 fanfiction.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Band 1: Eclipsed Reverie (The Cure-Inspired Band)

Members: Kanade(leader), Ichika, Toya, Nene;

Mentor: Miku.

Band 2: Mourning Sun (The Smiths-Inspired Band)

Members: Saki(leader), Honami, Shizuku, Kohane

Former members: Ichika.

Band 3: Paradox (El Cuarteto de Nos-Inspired Band)

Members: Akito(leader), Ena, Shiho, Airi, An

Band 4: The Rivers (Weezer-Inspired Band)

Members: Emu(leader), Tsukasa, Minori, Haruka

Band 5: Crimson Nocturne (Malice Mizer-Inspired Band)

Members: Rui(leader), Mizuki, Mafuyu, Kami (OC)

Band 6: VIRTUALZ (Gorillaz-Inspired Band)

Members: Meiko(leader), Kaito, Len, Rin, Luka

Former members: Miku.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

→﹐ ⛩ ﹒ Family Dynamics ﹒⟢

Tenma Family: Kanade and Toya are cousins with the twins( Tsukasa and Saki). The Tenmas share a bond filled with rivalry and support, contributing to their individual and collective musical identities.

Kamishiro Family: Rui is Nene older brother. They are both cousins with Mafuyu. Actually, the most healthy family.

Hinomori Family: Shizuku has a weird sis complex over Shiho. It's not 100% an incestuous feeling, but something more violent.

Shinonome Family: Akito is 1 and a half years younger then Ena. They both have the same father but different mothers. Akito's mom is German and half Japanese, and Ena’s mother is full Japanese. Their dad is Uruguayan.

Kagamine Familly: Len and Rin are twins instead of clones. All the vocaloids are adults(and only the vocaloids), the youngest (the kagamines) being 24, and the oldest (Meiko) being 31.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

˙ . ꒷ Headcanons . 𖦹˙—

Ichika is a transman. He uses he/him pronouns.

Nene is enby. They uses she/they pronouns.

Shiho is a transwoman. She uses she/her pronouns.

Mizuki is a transwoman. She uses she/they pronouns.

Mafuyu is a transmasc. He uses he/they pronouns.

Mafuyu is autistic and has albinism.

Kohane is AroAce and half polish.

Akito is an Gyaruo

Akito is half Japanese, half Uruguayan and half German.

Ena is half Japanese and half Uruguayan.

Ena and Miku have smoke problems.

An is a lesbian and filipino.

Rui is gender queer and gay.

Tsukasa is bi.

Haruka and Airi are Catholic.

Meiko is an alcoholic.