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#an ancient singer's name
elhokar-kholin · 2 years
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what some of y'all on tumblr dot com sound like
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waitimcomingtoo · 8 months
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And I Wouldn’t Marry Me Either
Pairing: Tom Holland x singer!reader
Synopsis: you release some songs about Tom after a disagreement ends in a breakup
Masterlist
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“Marry me.”
“Right now? But I just got comfortable.” Tom mumbled into his pillow with a sleepy smile.
“I’m serious.” You whispered through a laugh and shook his shoulder. Tom’s eyes slowly opened and he could see the blurry outline of you lying next to him in your bed.
“What?”
“I’m just thinking.” You began. “We’ve been together five years.”
“I’m aware.” Tom laughed and snuggled back into his pillow.
“So we should do it. We should get married.” You propped yourself up on your elbow to look at him.
“We are married. Everyone knows you’re my girl.” Tom said without opening his eyes and pulled you into his arms. He tried to go back to sleep but you still wanted to talk.
“I know.” You laughed. “But I want to make it official.”
“What, in Gods eyes and all that? I didn’t think you cared about that.” He laughed dismissively and rolled over. You sat up fully in the bed and looked down at him.
“It’s not about that. I want the flowers and the dress and the rings. Don’t you want that?” You asked and shook him a little to clue him in that you were trying to have a serious conversation. You watched Tom shrug and roll onto his back to look up at you.
“I don’t know. I always found weddings kinda dumb.”
“What? What do you mean dumb?” You forced a laugh and tried to hide the disappointment in your tone.
“I mean, like, they’re not even legally binding. It’s this whole big celebration that people spend their life savings on just to get drunk and slid rings on each other fingers. You still have to go to the courthouse to get married and even that’s just a piece of paper.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize you felt that way.” You laughed shortly and picked at your nail polish to look busy.
“I didn’t realize you felt a different way.” He said and rolled back onto his stomach. Tom closed his eyes to go back to sleep and you felt your heart sink in your chest. You got out of the bed and opened the curtains a little to distract yourself with the view. You touched the silky white curtains and smiled to yourself as you thought of all the pictures of white dresses you had saved on your Pinterest throughout the years.
“I’ve always dreamed of my wedding.” You said over your shoulder. “I think every little girl does at some point. Every rom com I grew up on ends with the perfect fairy tale wedding. I always wanted that. I wanted my happy ending.”
“But those are just movies. I bet half those couples wouldn’t last in real life.”
“But it’s sweet that they plan that special day together and then get to celebrate their love in front of all their family and friends.”
“Yeah, all that planning just so they can get divorced before the first year is up.” Tom snorted. “I think the whole idea of weddings are stupid. I mean, you spend all that time and money planning for a one day event that people will just attend for the free booze. Plus, women starve themselves for months and spend thousands of dollars on a dress they’ll wear once? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Wow. Tell me how you really feel, Tom.” You laughed shortly and folded your arms to glare at him. Tom sensed your tone and sat up in bed to pay better attention.
“I just think it’s all so ancient.” He shrugged. “I’m surprised you don’t agree. Weddings cannot exist without all the bullshit sexist traditions. I mean, the white dress to symbolize the brides supposed purity, the father of the bride literally “giving her away” to another man after being asked permission to get engaged in the first place, and then to top it off with her taking his last name because she’s now his property or something. It’s all so trivial and perverse.”
“It doesn’t have to be like that. Those traditions may be rooted in old fashioned thinking but I think it’s sweet to ask for my fathers permission. And yeah, I do want my dad holding my hand and walking me down the aisle. He’s not giving me away to be another man’s property, he’s standing by my side as I enter a new chapter of my life. Which is why I want my mama right there on my other side. Plus, lots of people hyphenate their last names nowadays. It doesn’t have to be this monstrous sexism fest you’re making it out to be.” You rolled your eyes and walked into the bathroom that was attached to your bedroom. Tom frowned when you shut the door. You usually left it open a crack when you did your morning skincare routine, but today, you were shutting him out. Tom got out of bed and walked into the bathroom to see you. You didn’t look up at him as you washed your face.
“Come on. Are you seriously mad because I dissed your rom coms?” Tom said as he put his hands on your hips and kissed your shoulder.
“I’m not mad about that.” You mumbled and brushed him off.
“Then what are you mad about, sour patch?” He teased and kissed your shoulder again.
“I’m mad because I’ve been getting my nails done weekly leading up to our five year anniversary just in case you proposed and you just told me that’s never even crossed your mind!” You exclaimed as hot tears of embarrassment brimmed your eyes. You stormed out of the bathroom and when Tom processed what you had said, he followed after you.
“I don’t believe in marriage, okay? I think it’s unnecessary. Why can’t we just live like this forever? What’s the difference?”
“The difference is pretty big. But I guess you don’t see it like that.” You shrugged and kept walking away from him.
“Can you honestly tell me what would be different between us if we signed a stupid piece of paper at the courthouse or didn’t?” Tom said as he put his hands on your shoulders to keep you in place for a second.
“The difference is I’d be your wife and not just the pathetic girlfriend who stayed even though you didn’t lock it down.” You raised your voice at him and pushed his hands off of you.
“So you only want to get married because you care what people think? How romantic.” Tom rolled his eyes at you.
“That’s not the only reason. I want to get married because it’s important to me. It’s a public commitment where we promise to love and protect each other forever. I want that.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t. I don’t need a ceremony to do that. I can promise you that right here.” Tom calmed down and took your hands.
“But that’s not special.” You sighed and withdrew your hands.
“If you don’t find that special then maybe you don’t love me as much as you think you do.” Tom said, immediately regretting it.
“What?” You whispered and looked into his eyes to see if he was serious.
“Look, darling, I’m sorry.” He said softly. “I just don’t see the point in marriage. I don’t need to prove I love you with a ring and wedding. I chose to love you every day. That’s enough for me.”
“What if it’s not enough for me?” You genuinely asked him as you wondered it for yourself.
“Then maybe you need to stop being so shallow and materialistic and ask yourself if you’re with me because you love me or because you want to play out some childhood fantasy that you saw in a stupid movie.” He shouted.
You both instantly got quiet. You were quiet for a very long time.
“I didn’t even mean that.”
“I don’t even care.” Your voice cracked as you grabbed your purse and slammed the front door behind you when you left.
“Is this one okay?” Harrison asked, pulling Tom out of his daydream. He replayed that fight over in his head about a dozen times a day. If his mind wasn’t occupied by something at all times, he’d perform an autopsy on that last conversation with you to try and understand what he should’ve done differently.
“What?” Tom asked without looking at his friend. He was too busy staring at the seat you always used to sit in at the kitchen counter.
“Can I use this one?” Harrison repeated and held up a muted purple mug as the tea kettle went off in the background. Tom tore his eyes away from your chair and when he saw the mug, all he could picture was your lipstick stain that used to stain it.
“That’s Y/n’s mug.” Tom said, descending a chill over the room. Harry and Sam’s attention was caught and they looked at Tom to see where this conversation was going.
“Oh. Sorry. I’ll put it back.” Harry said and quickly went to put it back in the cabinet.
“It’s fine. She’s not using it.” Tom shrugged. Everyone looked at each other as the awkwardness became palpable.
“How’s she’s doing?” Sam asked and sipped his tea to seem less interested than he really was.
“She’s good. Shes been recording some stuff at her New York studio. New music and whatnot.” Tom replied. He didn’t know this because you told him. He knew this because he’d been stalking your fanpages for every possible sighting of you.
“Have you guys talked lately?” Harry asked.
“Not really. Not since she left.” Tom admitted without looking up at his friends.
“You guys didn’t break up, did you?” Harrison asked, worsening the icy tension. Tom froze at the question for a minute and then shrugged. He didn’t really know what the answer was. In the weeks you’d been gone, you’d make small talk sometimes about work and the weather, but it never went beyond that. It was more to be polite. You kept in touch enough to know what the other was up to on a weekly basis, but you both knew you were dragging out something that had died. You wanted Tom to just say it was over already instead of pretending everything was normal, but he was never going to do that.
“I don’t know. We left things kinda up in the air.” Tom replied. The boys exchanged glances and Harrison nodded to let them know he was gonna take charge.
“Up in the air?” He questioned.
“Yep. Up in the air. Ambiguous. Vague. Open to interpretation. Call it what you want.” Tom shrugged again like it didn’t matter, but it did.
“Well what was the last thing you said to each other?” Harry wondered.
“She said she needed some space and was going to New York. And I said okay.” Tom recalled.
“What about before that?”
“I don’t know. We didn’t talk much in the days leading up to her leaving.” Tom replied and took a long sip of his tea.
“She didn’t speak to you?” Sam asked.
“She did.” Tom nodded. “Sometimes.”
“You didn’t speak to her?” Harrison asked, already knowing the answer.
“I didn’t have anything to say.” Tom shrugged. Nobody spoke a word, but all the boys were thinking the same thing. They knew how bad this was, and that it signaled the end of your relationship.
“What?” Tom asked when he noticed the shift in vibe.
“I’m just surprised.” Harrison shrugged. “You guys were never like this. I can’t even remember your last fight.”
“We didn’t fight. You can’t fight when you don’t speak.” Tom said with a sarcastic smile.
“You should call her.” Harry suggested. “It’s gonna be at least a week since she’s been there, right?”
“Four weeks.” Tom corrected without meeting anyone’s else.
“Mate, you gotta call her.” Harry said quietly and put his hand on Tom’s shoulder.
“I can’t.” Tom shook his head.
“Why not?”
“She can’t break up with me if I don’t talk to her. As long as we don’t have that conversation, we’ll still be together.”
“I’m not sure that’s how it works, Buddy.” Harrison said apologetically. Tom sucked in a sharp breath and looked at his friend with tears brimming his bloodshot eyes.
“I don’t know what else to do.” He said with a crack in his voice.
“Oh shit.” Sam said suddenly, getting everyone’s attention.
“What?” Tom asked.
“She’s dropping a song tonight. She just announced it.” Sam said and showed Tom your Twitter. Tom took Sam’s phone to read your announcement better. Sure enough, you had posted a picture of you dramatically lying across a piano bench with your left hand covering half of your face. You had a ring on every finger except for your ring finger, a detail that wasn’t lost on Tom. He handed Sam’s phone back and look at the floor.
“You didn’t know about this?” Sam asked, and Tom shook his head. He’d gone from being the first person you played every song for to finding out on Twitter that you had a song coming out.
“What’s it called?” Harrison wondered. Sam looked down at his phone to read the title and gulped.
“Who cares?” Sam forced a laugh and put his phone away.
“What’s it called?” Tom asked again.
“You Don’t Know Me Anymore.” Sam mumbled. Tom shut his eyes and hung his head in shame. He hadn’t even heard the song yet but knew it was going to be bad news.
“When does that come out?” He asked Sam.
“Midnight. Tonight.”
Tom’s friends stayed with him all day until midnight rolled around. At 11:58, Tom placed his laptop on the kitchen table and opened YouTube. He knew you always released lyric videos when you dropped a new song and he needed to reach every single world you said. When midnight came, he refreshed his screen and clicked on your video. The background image was a picture of you looking in a mirror with messy hair. You had digitally added sparkly, purple tears to run down the still image of your face. You played a couple notes on the piano before the lyrics appeared beside your face in your handwriting.
“I wish you’d just put me out of my misery
You already know I’m at your mercy
I don’t know why you’re dragging this out
You have all the power, if that’s what this is about
I’m not gonna be the one who walks away
So I need you to say what you want to say
I already know it’s over so just let it end
Please don’t give me the pity of asking to stay friends.”
“I don’t think we should be listening to this.” Sam said as he paused the video.
“Play it.” Tom demanded. Sam sighed and pressed play while the other exchanged looks.
“I’ve been feeling you leaving
I hate this part more than the ending
The moments leading up when I know your heart has changed
I don’t know why we keep pretending
If it’s done just say it’s done
Don’t just change your mind and not tell me
I already know so just let me go
Don’t just watch as I sit and bleed.”
“I don’t think-“ Sam began as he paused it again.
“Stop pausing it.” Tom cut him off. “Play it. I need to hear it.”
Sam pressed play again and Tom pulled the laptop over to himself so he could control it.
“Cause I cut my hand on that first crack in the glass
I feel the icy air between us when you pass me
So I took your chain off from around my neck
I’ll think of something else your initial can stand for
You don’t deserve to see me wearing it anyway
You don’t know me anymore.”
Tom didn’t realize he had started to cry until his tears his his keyboard. He couldn’t see the video anymore from his blurry his eyes had gotten. He wiped his face and leaned on his hands to give the song better attention.
“You know I would die for you in secret
Like that song I showed you in my car
I don’t think you even listened to it
You didn’t draw stars around my scars
You drew your arrow and let it fly
Right into my heart and let me die
Actually, I wish that was the curtesy you provided
Instead, you let this love become one sided
And now we’re shattered like a glass that was dropped
You broke my heart until the day that it stopped
You never got down on knee
Even when I crumbled onto both of mine
I wonder if you ever really wanted me
How did you think we were fine?
And at what part did you realize you liked the idea of me?
But who I actually am isn’t someone you wanted
I miss who I was before we met
Now I can’t go back, I’m haunted
And you were right not to marry me
If I could walk away from me too, I would
You were right to leave when you did
I know I would too if I could
But I’m stuck here with myself
Forever scratching and clawing at your door
Keep it all, even my memories
You’re lucky you don’t know me anymore.”
Everyone sat in silence once the song ended. Tom wiped his eyes again but tears just kept falling down his face.
“That probably wasn’t even about you.” Harrison said after a long beat of silence. Tom gave him a look before turning to his brothers.
“What do you think?” He asked Harry.
“It sounds like she’s hurting too.” Harry shrugged. “I think you’re both waiting for the other to say you’re broken up.”
“Well I’m not saying it.” Tom stated. “She has to.”
“And if she doesn’t?” Sam asked kindly.
“Then we don’t break up.”
“Again, I’m not really sure that’s how it works.”
“Well it’s what I’m going with. Because I can’t break up with her.” Tom sniffled and shut the laptop.
“But you can’t go on like this either.” Sam pointed out.
“She’ll come home when she’s ready.” Tom said, but no one in the room believed him.
And didn’t come home for a while.
After another week of silence, Tom flew to New York to see you. He got to your apartment and knocked on your door without any particular plan in mind. You opened it with a smile but when you saw who it was, you tensed up.
“Hi.” He said with a sad smile.
“If you came to to propose to me as some kind of grand gesture-“
“Please, let me talk.” He cut you off. You sighed and nodded as you leaned against your doorway.
“We have different opinions. But I don’t love or respect anyone more than you. So I am willing to hear your side, which is not something I did last time we spoke about this. I was just listening for what I could rebuttal against. I wasn’t actually listening to understand your thoughts and feelings. But I’m ready now.” He said. You nodded again and seemed to drop the wall that you had put up.
“It matters to me that we get married.” You told him. “I know you think it’s pointless and doesn’t change anything, but it changes things for me. If you picked out a ring, asked my parents permission, and got down on one knee, that would all make me feel special and loved. Those things matter to me in a relationship.”
“Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”
“But now you do know so if you propose, I know you’re just gonna do it to appease me. I’ll always know that you think it’s stupid when I look at the ring.”
“I admit that it found it a little dumb in the past. But it matters to you. And nothing that matters to you can be stupid.”
“I can’t get married to you knowing you don’t really want it. It’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to me.” You said and went to close the door.
“But I can’t lose you. My thoughts on marriage literally do not matter to me in the slightest. If it’s important to you and if it is what it takes to make you feel special and loved, then I want it too.” Tom pleaded as he pushed your door back open.
“But you don’t want it. You just don’t want to break up.”
“I can put on a tux for a night and suffer through if it means that much to you.” He said with a slight laugh to lighten the mood. Your face changed and he had somehow made the situation worse.
“Suffer?” You asked quietly with a told of your head.
“I’m sorry. That was a poor choice of words. But darling, I’m saying we can get married. I’ll do whatever it is you want. Why do you still look so upset?”
“Because you don’t get it.” You shook your head. “And I’m afraid you never will.”
“What don’t I get? I don’t understand. I’m telling you I’ll give you what you want.”
“But you don’t want it too. That’s what I’m trying to say. It’s the principle, Tom. Remember how disappointed I was that one time when I said I wanted ice cream so we went to the shop but you didn’t get anything? I didn’t mean I wanted ice cream. I meant I wanted us to get ice cream together so we could eat it and spend time together. This is like that but times a million. You can’t compromise on marriage. You either believe in it or you don’t. So even if we did get married, it wouldn’t mean to you what it means to me. I would always think back to that conversation we had and remember how you really feel about marriage. I keep replaying all the things you said that day in my head. We both know how you feel about marriage and we both know it’s not something you want.”
“So that one conversation ruined it for you? Completely?” He asked.
“Yes, it did.” You answered truthfully. You stared at each other for a minute as both your eyes welled with tears. You both knew you’d reached a stalemate and there was nothing more to be done.
“So what do we do now?” Tom asked without looking at you.
“I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone.” You told him, making him perk up.
“So do I.” He smiled as tears rolled down his face.
“But what if that’s not enough?” You asked him. Tom froze and felt the situation escaping from him fast.
“We’ve been together almost 5 years, darling. That’s five birthdays, Christmas’s, anniversaries. You make up so much of my life. We’re exactly right for each other. It’s supposed to be you and me in the end. I can’t do this with anyone else.”
“And I can’t do this with you.” You laughed sadly and gestured to him. Tom’s heart dropped in his chest when it became apparent that this was more than just a fight.
“Are you breaking up with me?”
“I think I am.” You nodded. Neither of you could believe the words that were coming out of your mouth but it was too late to take them back.
“Does marriage really mean that much to you that you’d rather break up instead of just living a long, happy life together?” Tom asked you.
“I guess it does.” You realized. He stood there in shock as you put a hand on his shoulder and brought him closer to kiss his cheek.
“Goodbye, Tom.” You smiled sadly at him and shut your door.
Another month went by and you did not come home. You busied yourself with your music and dove into your next album, but that didn’t stop you from thinking about him on midnights when you were left alone with your thoughts. Tom thought about you a lot more often, like every time he saw your face on his TV. He tuned in one night to watch you debut your latest music video of your newest song. His eyes were glued to the TV as the video opened with your back to some brown eyed actor.
“You say “I don’t understand” and “I say I know you don’t.” We thought a cure would come through in time, now I fear it won’t.” You sang with your eyes glued to the floor. The setting changed and you were walking through an apartment that Tom recognized.
“She filmed this on Cornelia Street?” Tom whispered to himself and sat back on his couch.
“Remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light.” A smiling version of you sang as she walked though the apartment holding the hand of the actor playing Tom. The setting changed again and you were still in the room, but the lights were off and you were sitting alone in the floor.
“Now, I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time.” You sang while not looking in the camera. The rest of the video followed in suit. You flashed between happy, golden hued memories with the actor to grey toned solo shots of you sitting alone at your piano or on the floor. The difference in the moods made Tom reminisce on the old times and he wondered how long it has been since he had made you smile the way you were doing in the video.
“Stop, you’re losing me. Stop, stop, stop. You’re losing me.” You sang while looking directly into the camera as a purple heart monitor line ran through the background behind you and eventually flatlined. Tom felt like you were staring right into his soul and realized this was the closest he’d gotten to making eye contact with you in a while. He watched the sad, grey version of yourself split from the happy version and suddenly, there were two of you on the screen while the actor playing Tom ignored them both.
“How long can we be a sad song till we were too far gone to bring back to life?” The both of you sang while Tom’s counterpart read the newspaper and didn’t look at either. He thought of the days leading up to you leaving for New York where he’d be doing exactly that, reading the newspaper to pretend to look busy when he felt you glaring at him. He wiped his face and watched as the scene changed to the three of you at a party. The sad version of you was clinging to Tom’s counterpart defensively while the other version of you yelled at him with a drink in your hand.
“Fighting in only your army. Front lines, don’t you ignore me. I’m the best thing as this party.” You yelled and drunkenly stumbled around while the rest of the party watched.
“You’re losing me.” The grey version whispered into Tom’s ear. He assumed that version represented the part of you that missed him while the other version represented the you that knew it was over. The scene changed again and this time, you were back in the Cornelia Street apartment with an open ring box in the center of the table. There was no ring inside, just a burning flame.
“And I wouldn’t marry me either. A pathological people pleaser.Who only wanted you to see her.” You said into the camera while Tom’s character threw things into a bag behind you and went to leave.
“And I’m fading thinking do something babe! Say something! Lose something, babe. Risk something. You’re losing me! Chose something, babe. I got nothing to believe unless you’re choosing me.” The grey version of you desperately said to Tom’s counterpart as she pulled on his arm to beg him to stay. It was like he couldn’t see her at all and just kept walking towards the door. The golden version of yourself opened the door and pointed for him to get out while the other version of you jumped in front of him and dropped to her knees to get him to stay. Tom’s character walked right through her and she faded to dust, leaving just the one version of yourself to watch him go. The music stopped and you ended up running after him, but he was already gone. You turned and ran down Cornelia Street but didn’t go back into your apartment. You just kept running down the street and turned the block so that the camera couldn’t see you anymore. The camera panned out to show the Cornelia Street sign and a violin version of your song by the same name played in the background as the street sign turned grey and faded into dust. The screen turned black and Tom was left alone in the silence.
After another month, he found himself outside your door again. He knocked on it and felt his heart pound until you opened it up.
“Tom? What are you doing here?”
“I’m here for you. I came to fix this.” He said simply.
“Tom, I don’t know that we can fix this.” You said apologetically. It felt amazing to see him, but it didn’t change the fact that you ultimately wanted different things in life.
“You were right. You can’t compromise on marriage. And you either believe in it or you don’t.” He began before getting down on one knee.
“Tom?” You asked skeptically as your eyes went wide. He pulled a ring box out of his pocket and opened it up for you.
“It’s your moms ring. Your dad gave it to her for the third Valentine’s Day they celebrated together in college. She doesn’t wear it anymore because it’s one size too small, so she gave it to me when I asked them for permission to marry you.”
“You asked them?” You smiled in surprise that he had done one of the things you said mattered to you.
“I did. It was a little awkward to find out your mother already knew all about our previous conversations about marriage so you can probably guess how confused I was.” He said with an embarrassed laugh.
“What did my dad say?”
“He said as long as I make you happy, he’s proud to have me join the family.”
“See? No one’s giving me away to anyone. We’re just creating a bigger family for the two of us.”
“I see that now. I see a lot of the points you made. And what your dad said got me thinking.”
“About?”
“All I want is to make you happy. Which is different from agreeing to things I don’t want to do to appease you. I do want to watch you walk down the aisle in a dress that’s been in your Pinterest board since you were 13. I do want to plan the seating arrangement and introduce my weird friends from college to your weird friends from college. I want to plan the entire thing because that’s something we can do together, and those are my favorite things to do.”
“What about the ceremony? And the marriage license? You don’t want those things.”
“I didn’t at first.” He admitted. “But after actually thinking about it and reevaluating the opinion I formed before I ever even had a serious relationship, I realized I feel differently. You make me feel differently. I would proudly sign my name next to yours on a marriage license. Because I happen to think our names look pretty good together. And as for the ceremony, I know we can’t compromise, but we can collaborate. It doesn’t have to be a huge blowout party. It can be the best elements of the both of us. And we can plan it together.”
“That all sounds very lovely, but it doesn’t change the fact that you didn’t believe in marriage just a few months ago. Am I really supposed to believe you’ve truly changed your mind? What if this is just some grand gesture to win me back that you end up regretting?” You asked him.
“I will never end up regretting promising my love for you in front of our family and friends. I’ll never regret hyphenating our names so that everyone knows I’m a part of a duo. I’ll never regret choosing to legally attach myself to my vets friend and spend the rest of my life with her. But I can tell you with the utmost assurance that I would regret letting you walk away and become a name I wince at for the rest of my life.”
“You felt differently not too long ago.” You quietly reminded him. You wanted so badly to believe him, but you couldn’t fully trust it.
“I changed my mind. I realized somethings are more important than other things. And that you’re more important than anything.”
Your skeptical expression turned into a coy smile as you slid your hand into the one that wasn’t holding the open ring box.
“You never actually said the words.” You told him, making Tom break into a relieved smile.
“Darling, would you make me the happiest man-“
“Eh. Try again. Too cliche.” You cut him off. Tom smiled and shook his head, knowing you weren’t gonna make it easy.
“My love, I don’t want to spend another minute as just your boyfriend.” He tried again.
“Lame. Thumbs down.” You shook your head and pointed your thumb down.
“Would you do me the honor-“
“Yawn.” You interrupted.
“Will you just marry me, you annoying brat?” Tom groaned.
“Tom! I thought you’d never ask!” You gushed over dramatically and put your hand over your heart.
“Is that a yes?” Tom asked as he stood up.
“I have to think about it. I don’t know if marriage is for me.” You shrugged as he slid the ring onto your finger. You looked down at the ring and remembered the time you tried it on as a little girl and how it didn’t fit your finger until now.
“Yes. I will marry you.” You smiled as you looked back up at Tom. Tom broke into a grin and scooped you up to spin you around.
“Sorry I wrote all those emo songs about you.” You said into his ear, making him laugh.
“It’s okay. It’s what you do.” He couldn’t stop smiling as he set you down. He then pulled you in for a long kiss to make up for all the time you were apart. When you pulled away, he pulled your face back towards him with his hands to kiss your left cheek.
“I see you.” He said, then kissed you right cheek.
“I choose you.” He continued, then kissed your forehead.
“I love you.” He said, the kissed your nose before looking into your eyes.
“And I know you.” He told you. You smiled softly and nodded your head.
“You do?” You asked him. “You really know me?”
“I do.”
Tag List 🏷️
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cbini · 2 months
Text
alpha sensory meridian response
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pairing: han jisung x afab!reader
warnings: a/b/o universe (stray kids hot omegaverse!!), desperate alpha camboy!jisung, omega!reader, dirty talk, guided masturbation, surprise ending (y’all know i love those)
a/n: i previously wrote this for another fandom many moons ago but it was like half the length it is now and sucked ass (and not in the fun way). also i know it’s not very asmr-y pls don’t hate me but i thought the title was too good to pass up lmao!!!
you’d stumbled upon the channel a few years ago in the middle of one of your most intense heats yet; you’d come so much that day but still couldn’t get it to break, and you’d tried everything. hyunjin, your friend and usual heat partner, was out of town and couldn’t help you through it this time. 
you weren’t one of those omegas who could just settle with using a toy and go about your heat with no issue. no, you had to have company, you had to hear someone talking you through it and cumming too. with hyunjin away, all you could do was watch porn or listen to audios to help you get off. alphas jerking their cocks, fucking their whiny omegas, guided masturbation, anything. with your laptop connected to the television in your room, that’s how you spent your heat. your autoplay was on, and when a new video loaded from your recommended tab, your pussy convulsed immediately at the sight on screen. 
it was an alpha, tan and broad, fucking a fleshlight tucked snugly under the edge of his mattress. his brown hair flopped with his movements, movement so rough and fluid that his cheeks jiggled lightly. he popped the fattest knot you’d ever seen, locking his pubic mound flush against the silicone head of the fleshlight. your mouth watered at the sight of his cum seeping out of the toy and matting the bush of his pubic hair, and it didn’t take you long to ruin your comfy nest of blankets underneath you with your cum. 
that alpha helped you through your heat.
you weren’t coherent enough to do all your digging during the throws of it, but after your cycle broke you diligently looked through his channel and diligently watched every single one of his videos. there were fifteen so far, each video including the acronym asmr. his videos tickled your brain just right, especially if you watched them with headphones. slick noises, whispered praises, kisses to his microphone… a quick and easy way to get your pussy leaking.
the alpha’s screen name was hannie, and you came to find that he made these asmr videos for omegas going through heats alone. hannie had just over two thousand subscribers on the website, and you had quickly become one of them.  
he’s a camboy. you’d barely be able to call yourself a fan if you skipped out on his weekly streams, right? that’s where you found yourself every thursday night at nine sharp, letting hannie coax orgasm after orgasm out of you and talking you through each one whether you were in heat or not. you might as well have been for how much he made you cum. 
despite how silly it sounds, the honey-skinned, cheeky alpha quickly became a fixture in your life. your private twitter account basically became a hub of all things hannie. you had his notifications on, happily picking your phone up throughout the day to read whatever it is hannie had to say, whether it be a fun fact about ancient sumerian irrigation systems or a picture of his hand holding the fat of his knot. 
as time went on, you couldn’t help but fall for him. maybe it’s weird, but who cares? you’re a dedicated fan! just like hyunjin is with his favorite trot singer I.N. you couldn’t help it! he was fun and easy to like, and god did he know how to make you cum. his personality showed through every video he posted, and you felt in your heart that he was someone that you needed to know.
you watched every video hannie made, liked all of his pictures on instagram (and when you felt really daring, commented on them as well), and retweeted his tweets. every heat of yours since you found the alpha was spent with him in some way. if you weren’t watching hannie’s videos, you were thinking of him, always coming hard and wetting your bed with slick.
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it’s only 9:10 and he’s already got you delirious with want. 
“fuuuck, yes! you know how much i love that. just fuck yourself and let me hear it, okay baby? yeah, yeah, i hear your little pussy talking to me,” hannie whines through gritted teeth.
he must hear you. he has to, even through his screen. he wants you to finger yourself with the tips of your fingers until your slicked pussy is clicking with wetness and drooling down the length of your fingers. 
“fucking- oh god, oh god, baby. my dick’s so ready for you.”
it’s your turn to whine, and it’s almost like he really can hear you because he whines back. hannie has a tight fist on his cock, stroking up and down as slow as he can stand. he’s a sight to see, yellow snapback backwards on his head and bare chest gleaming with sweat you dream of licking off. he’s wearing a robe. it’s untied and stark white against his tanned skin.
you have half a mind to wonder where he is tonight. he’s not at his usual set up with the shelves and figurines in the back, no, it looks like he’s at a hotel. he doesn’t have any of his regular toys either, just him and his hand. 
“baby! oh baby, baby. miss your sweet pussy… let me see it? let hannie see it. let hannie see his pussy.”
oh god. 
you’d do anything he ever asked of you. your fingers squelch when they leave your hole, but they’re not gone for long. this time when you find your hole, it’s with both hands. you use two fingers from each hand to breach your hole and spread it open, gaping slightly as if the desperate alpha on screen could see you through the camera on your laptop. 
“look at that! need t- fuck, ‘m gonna fucking knot so quick,” he whispers and shakes his head. you can see his fingers flex around his heavy cock, bulb already starting to form at the base. “you’re such a good omega for me. the perfect one, i swear.” 
“yesss, hannie,” you whimper. it’s the first time you’ve given him anything other than a moan tonight. 
“so beautiful, my baby. so gorgeous, i’m so lucky to have you. luckiest damn alpha in the world,” hannie says. “play with your nipples? shit, yeah. do that! lemme see. let me see you pinch ‘em, baby.” 
you obey easily once again, trailing your fingers from your sopping cunt to your peaked nipples. the first touch to them has you whimpering right off the bat, chest arching towards the ceiling when you pinch lightly at them like hannie asked you to. your nipples are coated with your slick, scent now heady and strong on your chest. hannie would lick it off, right? he’d rub his face against your breasts until he’s coated in your scent and then suck your pebbled nipples into the warmth of his mouth. you know he’d look so dangerously sweet with those chubby cheeks hollowed and big, round eyes looking up at you. 
“i bet they’re so fucking hard,” he growls. growls, damn near feral and way past horny. a fucking monkey-brained, alpha knothead just wanting to sink his cock into something other than his fist. “wanna hear the noises you’ll make when i get my tongue on those babies.”
you cry out, fingers lightly circling your nipples as your hips stutter up into nothing. your tummy clenches. god, your nipples are so fucking sensitive. your own fingers feel so lovely but you wish they were someone else’s. 
“pull them for me. yeah baby, yeah? feel that? bet you’re so fucking soaked. oh god, okay. okay. push them together, show me those tits.”
you moan airily as you press both hands to the sides of your breasts and push them together.
“you’re doing it, aren’t you? yeah, yes. please, i fucking love your tits, baby, pleasepleaseplease. oh, spread those legs for me again,” the alpha whispers, frantic. he can’t keep up with himself. “don’t be shy. you don’t have to be shy with me, sweetie. i just wanna see where my knot’s gonna go, okay?” 
you whine, letting your hands fall to the bed and spreading your legs again. your hands move to hold yourself under the knees and you lean back, presenting your cunt and the pucker of your rim, as if the alpha could see either of your ready and willing holes. viscous slick leaks from your cunt and onto the bed as your body shakes with need. 
you’d be on your hands and knees presenting like a true bitch for him if it didn’t mean you had to turn away from your laptop.
“you should play with your hole for me, baby. will you listen to me? let me show you how to do it? alpha wants you to tease it. rub it with your fingers, my baby, don’t put them in yet. make yourself wetter. hannie can smell your slick from here, you know? wanna fucking- fucking. b-bathe in it! smell like you, smell like my baby,” he growls again, teeth snapping like he’s losing what little composure he has left.
“yessss, a-alpha,” you keen, fingers rubbing over your hole and feeling slick trail out. you rub faster as your slick makes the glide so easy you can barely feel it. your swollen clit is aching to be touched, but hannie didn’t tell you to do that. “pussy’s so wet, ‘m so wet for you, h-hannie. fuck me, fuck me please!”
hannie laughs, almost like he heard you. he looks up at the ceiling and shakes his head like he’s trying to regain the sense he’s lost since he started his stream. “baaaaby, my knot’s ready for you. got me so worked up, wanna fuck your little hole so bad.”
you’re still rubbing at it, and you have to take your hand away to stop from cumming too soon. you didn’t even touch your clit. just the promise of something in your hole has you that on edge. you bring your fingers to your mouth, immediately shoving them inside to taste your own slick. 
“what are you doing? what are you- tell me. oh, baby, wish i was there to watch you. you makin’ a slut out of yourself for me? wanna see you be dirty,” hannie whimpers. “wanna see you be dirty so bad. put- oh, shit baby. put your fingers inside again! i can’t wait much longer. don’t wanna knot my hand, okay? ‘kay, yeah, wanna knot your little pussy…” 
he trails off into a growl and his hips kick up unto his hand. hannie’s huffing like he’s close to a tantrum, and his other hand is quick to join its twin on his cock. his fingers entwine tightly together on either side of his cock, and he fucks into the squeeze of his hands roughly like he would a cunt. it seems to quiet him for a moment and has you clenching.
you nod your head and bring your wet fingers back to your hole. “feels so good, hannie, alpha. want your big knot so bad.” two fingers slip inside, and you feel your face heat up at the dirty noise it makes as your fingers meet globs of slick. you never get this wet outside of your heats, but hannie brings it out of you regardless.
“god, i love how wet you are, baby,” hannie whispers. “feels like i’ve already knotted you up, huh? so wet inside it’s like i already creampied that fucking pussy.”
that pulls a gasp out of you, keening high in your throat as you finger fuck yourself harder. 
both of hannie’s hands are still wrapped around his cock, but he’s slowed down now. “with me, baby, fuck yourself with me.”
all you can do is nod. your fingers slow down as your eyes bore into the screen so that you can match hannie’s rhythm. you push your fingers in at the same time hannie drags his hands down his dick. your mouth falls open in a silent scream, eyes tearing up as your fingers crook just right, legs shaking from the all-consuming pleasure. your head threatens to fall back to bear your neck for the alpha on the screen. 
“oh baby,” hannie growls. “your little hole feels so good on my cock. perfect- perfect hole for me. all for hannie.” you respond with a high pitched wail as hannie continues to talk. “hole’s gonna make me burst, baby. f-fuck! s-show me your neck? please, oh please, ohplease, please? have i been good? i promise i’ll b- be so good if you’ll let me bite…”
your body seizes immediately, neck bearing as you picture the alpha above you, claiming you as his own. “h-hannie! yes! yes, please! i’m cumming, oh, i-!” you cry. your hips buck as you cum on your fingers, eyes locked on hannie’s expanding knot. you squeal when hannie cums as well, cunt pulsing at the sight of the alpha milking his own knot and growling into the air.
“why don’t you get your plug, baby? it’s in the nightstand, right? slide it right in so none of alpha’s cum can leak out, okay?” he whispers, and you do what he says, pulling your vaginal plug out of its bag in the nightstand and lubing it with your slick. it fits just right, comforting and satisfying.
“go to sleep, my baby. you can. hannie wore you out didn’t he?” he laughs, and you smile sleepily. “so safe and warm and cozy in your nest, bet it smells so good. will you let me in, let alpha in your nest so he can hold you, baby?” 
the last thing you remember is a soft yes, alpha escaping your lips as you drift off.
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you wake up to sunshine streaming through the room and a warm chest pressed against your back. your plug is on the nightstand, but you feel your alpha’s cock inside of you instead. a sleepy smile stretches across your face when you feel jisung’s nose press into the side of your neck and inhale. you reach for his arm, pulling it into your own chest and twining your hands together to rest.
you roll over slightly to look at the sleepy alpha behind you and gently kiss him on the forehead. 
“you’re back early,” you whisper. you feel so calm, and you don’t want to disrupt the tranquility in your room by speaking any louder. 
“baby, didn’even stay the full night in the hotel,” jisung mumbles against your neck. his words are slurred with sleep, and he’s warm against your back. “couldn’t leave my biggest fan hangin’ baby, are you kidding?” 
jisung is quick to burst your calm little bubble by rolling over, stretching his arms, and groaning at the top of his lungs. he props his head up on his hand and wiggles his eyebrows at you.
“so, how was the show?” 
857 notes · View notes
sarahs-library · 6 months
Text
Forgotten: Part Two
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Azriel wakes to find himself with everything he'd never allowed himself to wish for. Now, faced with the reality of all he thought he wanted, he must come to terms with his desires and the unexpected direction his life had taken.
Word count - 3564
A/N - Thank you all so much for reading the first part of my little story and for all the lovely comments and words of encouragement. I'm still learning how to post and interact on here, a few people asked to be added to a taglist which I've tried to create but I'm not sure if it actually works.
Part One ☪ Part Three
Forgotten Universe: Pretty Eyes
Azriel
Azriel was still under Madja’s knurled fingers as they palpated his temples, the soothing chill of her healing magic drifted over tender, swollen skin. Her copper eyes assessed his face closely and he schooled his features into a blank mask. His gaze drifted over the curve of her shoulder to meet Rhys as he lingered by the open doors of the balcony. The bland smile, the loose set of his shoulders, and the hands that hung casually in the pockets of his trousers irked Azriel. After so many years it wasn’t difficult to read this feigned nonchalance, the worry it masked beneath.
“A lingering effect of the head injury, exacerbated by the bloodsbane.” Madja’s fingers continued to probe as Azriel returned his attention to her. Thickness lingered on his tongue; left over from the medication she’d administered on her arrival to reign in his fever. His head felt clearer now, where his shadows had been silent before they sang again, murmuring of the almost imperceptible anxious shift of Rhys’ weight on the floorboards. Elsewhere the House of Wind was quiet and empty, Elain having fled into Rhys’ arms with a demand to be winnowed home without sparing a glance in his direction. Azriel had been left to stew in solitude until his brother had returned with the ancient healer tucked in his arms, greying spindrift hair windswept, her face lined with wrinkles and kind concern.
“Some amnesia isn’t uncommon with an injury like this,” Madja continued finally pulling her hands away from his face. “Though to ascertain its true extent you must tell us what you remember shadow-singer.” She retreated from him into the chair Elain had occupied earlier, righted by Rhys, and slowly lowered herself on creaking joints. Azriel balked a little under the attention as he tried to force himself to recollect. Pain brewed between his eyes. He remembered the visit to Hewn City, the scheming; the gifting of Nesta’s made blade to Eris. He remembered the solstice party, the disaster of his foray with Elain afterward, and his brother’s wrath. The ensuing weeks had been busy, his mornings occupied with training the Valkyries and concocting obstacle courses modeled after the Blood Rite qualifier. The afternoons and evenings spent keeping tabs on Eris and following up on the dead leads from whispers and fables of high-fae women bearing winged babes. Everything after was hazy, difficult to hold, and worsened the pain in his head if he tried to focus for too long.
“Feyre,” he said, and Rhys cocked an eyebrow, his face encouraging him to continue. “We were following leads on the delivery of winged babes.” The darkening of Rhys’ features filled Azriel with a sense of foreboding. “Feyre,” he continued, “is she…Is the babe...” He trailed off, unsure of how to broach the topic. Rhys’ features softened, understanding his brother had misinterpreted the emotion to be driven by his grief and loss and not for the male before him. Shoulders pulled forward in a rare display of vulnerability, scarred fingers clasping his knees for stability, Rhys struggled to recall a recent memory of seeing his brother so open, so vulnerable. He hadn’t seen him this lost since their youth in the war camps.
“Feyre,” Rhy drawled, fixing Azriel with what he hoped was an abating expression. “And the babe, we named him Nyx, they’re both well. Perfect.” Rhys watched his brother process the information, the small twitch of the corner of his mouth the only sign of his surprise. Watched as Azriel came to terms with the missing months in the timeline, Feyre still had half of her pregnancy to go during the solstice. How would he even begin to broach the missing years? “You don’t remember anything about the attack?” Rhys probed, Azriel bristled under the line of questioning.
“No.” His fingers danced over his injured abdomen and trailed the bandages before climbing up to rub over the empty feeling in his chest, worse than any wound he’d ever gotten. It left him feeling cold and empty. The glint of his rings caught his eye. The signet on his little finger embossed with the Night Court symbol, a gift from Rhys centuries ago declaring him part of his found family, rubbed against an unfamiliar band of gold.
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Feyre
Feyre locked eyes with Nuala as she crouched over Nyx playing with his toys on the carpet. The shadow-wraith stepped silently over to them and greeted the young heir to the Night Court with a small smile, producing a plate of homemade biscuits warm from the oven and smelling of cinnamon. Nyx fixed her with his cerulean eyes and toothy smile, cheeks chubby from the lingering fat of youth. Reaching out to fist the crumbling treat in one hand he thanked her, proceeding to get more crumbs in the creases of his clothes than he did in his mouth. Feyre’s heart swelled.
“I’ll be back soon,” she reached out to stroke his midnight hair as his arms waved, one brandishing a small wooden figure and the other his half-eaten treat.
“Okay, mama.” His eyes were drawn to her briefly before he returned to his imaginary world, moving his wooden figure into position to conquer the high ground of his drawing table, covered in drying paint and charcoal pencils.
“You’ll behave for Nuala won’t you?” Nyx nodded eagerly in agreement and proceeded to clash the figurine in his hand against a triangle formation of his enemies with a sound of delight. Feyre rose, leaning close to thank the shadow-wraith on her way to the door. After taking an indulgent glance backward she stepped into the breach, winnowing to a familiar path on the outskirts of Velaris.
Well-manicured grass thick with morning dew poked through the paving stones Feyre stepped between on the way up to the front door. The lower level was in darkness, the windows blending into the dark stone and winding vines. The second level blazed, fae light seeping out of the floor-to-ceiling windows though Feyre saw no movement.
The dark wood of the door opened on a wind under her fist, poised to knock, and Feyre took the invitation to enter. The foyer offset the chill of the early morning air and she made a beeline towards the dark staircase. The open door allowed a beam of sunlight into the sitting area, dark with the curtains drawn, illuminating the comfortable leather chairs perched around the large fireplace.
Feyre eyed the portrait hanging above the mantle, a solstice gift to Azriel the year after his mating ceremony, her heart ached. Depicting the moment after the vows had been said and the food exchanged, hands clasped between them bound by thick dark ribbon, Feyre remembered agonizing for days over how to properly encapsulate onto the canvas the shared look of love and adoration. Feyre couldn’t imagine how you had coped over the last few days, in the last months of pregnancy sitting vigil at Azriel’s bedside wondering if he would wake up. Presumably elated to hear he had awake, only to find him in the arms of another woman, one with whom he shared such history.
Continuing up the stairs to the second floor Feyre followed the fae lights towards the front of the house. The door to the nursery was ajar and she stopped short of the threshold. Your back was to her, one hand tracing the soft carved wood of the bassinet Azriel had spent every spare moment painstakingly crafting. The scent of fresh paint hung in the air, leftover from a few weeks ago when the pair of you decorated the walls with murals of snow-capped mountains, lush forest greenery, and frolicking animals.
Suspended over the bassinet in a sea of miniature stars hung multicolored globes, each spinning on their invisible axis. The spiraling constellation, you’d called it a galaxy, held all the planets known to your people. Feyre wondered how many you’d seen in your trips across the stars as you reached up into the field of magic closest to you to trace your fingers over a small planet of russet brown cratered with darker swirls.
“Rhys told me what happened.” Feyre watched as you continued to agitate the floating sphere. You didn’t turn. She crept closer into the room, torn between giving you space and reaching out in comfort. She waited with bated breath to see if you would respond before continuing. “It’s the head injury, he doesn’t remember.”
“He had no idea who I was.” The hand that hung in the stars moved to cradle your abdomen. “He would’ve…” You trailed off. The posturing, the aggression, there was no doubt at that moment Azriel viewed you only as a threat, a stranger, someone who had invaded his home. That was not the male who had doted on you only a week before, hands cradling you gently as his lips brushed your soft skin singing low lullabies to your unborn babe.
“Elain was at the River House earlier,” Rhys had dropped her there with a rushed explanation before disappearing again. “She feels awful, she wanted to come and apologise.” Feyre wasn’t sure why she brought up Elain, as soon as the words were out of her mouth she realised she’d made a grave miscalculation.
“I don’t care what Elain wants right now Feyre.” The temperature in the room plummeted as you finally turned to look at her. For a moment the air in the room thinned and Feyre struggled against the pressure of the vacuum that forced her to exhale. As quickly as it came the atmosphere in the room returned to normal and she sucked in a shaky breath through her teeth.
“I know, I know. I didn’t mean it like that.” Feyre tried to keep her voice low and soothing, pinned under your gaze as she edged closer, reaching out to place an open palm on your arm. “Madja’s with him now, she says that all this is to be expected. When Rhys spoke to her earlier she said these things usually resolve themselves with time.” Your thumb traced gentle circles on your swollen belly.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a little short on that right now.” The anger in your tone was undermined by the tears threatening to spill. Realising there wasn’t anything she could say Feyre moved to pull your body against her own. Arms encircling you in a comforting embrace, she rubbed her fingers between your shoulder blades. You moved to hold her back, resting your face in the space where her neck met her shoulder as you let the tears fall. “What am I going to do?” Your voice was thin and watery, in the time Feyre had known you she’d never heard you speak with so little conviction.
“We’re going to figure this out.” She pulled away slightly and clasped your face between her hands, forcing you to meet her gaze. “I promise. You have all of us, you’re not alone in this. We’ll do everything we can for you, both of you.” Nodding you sniffed, pulling away. Feyre let you go as you turned your attention back out to the window, eying the gilded disc of the sun as it rose across the Valaris skyline.
“I’m heading to the House of Wind,” Feyre continued to observe you as you tracked the ascent. “Would you like to come?” You moved closer to the window. On the opposite side of the city you could see the grand mountain range and it’s carved residence. Through the morning mist blanketing the base a large, winged figure rose, angling to land on one of the balconies.
“I don’t think I can look at him right now.” Feyre acquiesced her desire to push you to come with her.
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Azriel
After Madja had left Rhys with strict instructions regarding Azriel’s rehabilitation over the next couple of days, he’d supported his brother’s weight while they made slow progress to the bathroom. Azriel’s limbs felt stiff, uncharacteristically uncoordinated and he concentrated on remaining upright and shuffling one foot in front of the other.
Steam rose from the bath the House had prepared, swirling to meet the shadows that seeped down his arm as Azriel braced one hand on the edge of the tub. Using the other he edged the loose cotton trousers down over his thighs until they pooled at his feet. Fingers tugged at the cotton on his abdomen to find purchase, loosening and unwinding until the bandaging fell away to reveal an angry pink scar, jagged and stark against tanned skin.
“Want me to wash your back?” Rhys shot him a cheeky grin, but the mirth in his voice didn’t reach his eyes. Azriel appreciated the effort, this small attempt at normalcy. He shot his brother an obscene gesture before raising one leg to step into the tub, thigh muscles twitching as he shifted into the hot water. Using his arms to brace his weight he started to lower himself in, descending too quickly they struggled to hold him up causing a wave of bathwater to soak the floor. Azriel sunk under the warmth of the water, allowing it to soothe him.
“We’ll be in the dining room, come down when you’re ready.” His shadows had already informed him of Cassian and Nesta’s arrival, he assumed the rest of his family wouldn’t be far behind. Azriel nodded, avoiding Rhys’ gaze, pretending to study the shadows roiling over the water. In the mirror on the opposite wall, Azriel watched Rhys’ reflection as he opened his mouth as if to speak, no sound coming out as he considered, before closing it again and disappearing through the doorway.
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Dressing had been an arduous process, though no longer stiff and painful his muscles had a weakness that he wasn’t used to. After struggling into the tight second skin of his fighting leathers he felt more himself. Finding truth-teller laid out in its holster on the dresser he strapped it to his thigh. His shadows, now a fuller cohort with the effects of the bloodbane leaving his system, were a thick tangle of moving darkness, sour and agitated in solidarity with their master.
Despite his interrogation, they hadn’t offered him any useful information, it caused Azriel great frustration when they took the stance of purposeful vagueness or outright ignored him. He sent them ahead down the corridor to scout out the dining room only to be turned around by a shield of impenetrable night. Whatever conversations were going on in that room, Rhys did not want him privy to them. His own family, keeping secrets. It left a bad taste in Azriel’s mouth, a sense of betrayal in his chest that sat next to the empty feeling he was growing accustomed to, a limb he didn’t know he had until it was missing.
Azriel reached the closed door, the thick night dissipating as he progressed, the sound from beyond the door returned but he heard no voices. Just the sound of breathing and the clink of porcelain as someone set a cup on a saucer. Rhys must have informed them of his impending arrival. He pushed the door open and took in his family.
Cassian, Nesta, Rhys, Feyre and Amren all sat at the table which had been used for family dinners before the River House was built. Their faces were carefully blank as he assessed them all. Mor was notably absent, information Azriel tucked away, either her efforts across the continent were still ongoing or some other manner of business had her attention. He hadn’t expected to see Elain, not after her spectacular display of anger, but he couldn’t help the feeling of unease and disappointment it left in his gut.
“Finally, the invalid graces us with his presence. Took you long enough,” Cassian sent him an easy grin, arms folded across his stomach as he lounged in his chair. Azriel scowled in response which only made his brother’s smile wider. This had always been Cassian’s modus operadi, an invitation to be provoked into a physical outlet if that’s what was needed, thinly veiled under jibes he rarely meant at heart. For a moment, Azriel considered taking up the unspoken offer, if only to delay what was undoubtedly going to be an uncomfortable conversation.    
“Azriel,” it was Feyre who spoke, offering him a small smile, “Why don’t you join us?” Azriel understood that it wasn’t an invitation and slid into the seat next to Amren. His eyes met Nesta’s who sat across from him. They’d reached a tentative understanding, perhaps it could be considered a friendship, in the months he could recall. He remembered her joy at receiving the solstice gift he’d gotten for her, the resulting rare display of physical affection.
Looking at her now, face resolute and stony with blazing anger behind her eyes, barely contained, he had the sense that something had damaged the dynamic between them. He purposely looked away, instead fixing his eyes on Rhys; then Feyre. He waited for someone to speak, break the almost oppressive silence. He half-expected it to be Cassian again, with some throwaway comment or badly timed joke, but it was Rhys who cleared his throat.
“Azriel, thank you for joining us.” Azriel raised an eyebrow at the formality but stayed silent. “There are some matters we need to discuss.”
“Clearly.” He trailed his eyes over his family again, they all seemed uncomfortable to be here, to be around him. As if they knew he was going to react badly to whatever they were going to say. Rhys let his remark go, seeming resolute to power ahead with the conversation.
“What you showed me of your recent memories,” he continued, eyes drifting to Feyre who gave him an encouraging smile. “Lead us to believe that the memory loss is more extensive than we originally feared. Azriel, what you showed me – it was more than five years ago.” Azriel barely seemed to move under the scrutiny of their gazes. He’d lost years of his life. In the grand scheme of his immortality it felt like nothing, but looking at his family and realising that they lived in a future he didn’t remember left him feeling sick.
Azriel tried to find some rational thought to hold onto as he spiralled. He fell back onto the only thing he could rely on, his role as the Night Court’s spymaster. “Was it the work of the Queens? The attack?”
“The debacle on the continent has been resolved, for the most part. It was only supposed to be a routine investigation, nothing too strenuous or time-consuming given your current…” Rhys paused. “Situation. You were gathering information on some remaining rebellious factions, we didn’t anticipate that you would meet that kind of resistance, that they would have the resources. We’re sorry Az, we never meant for any of this to happen.”
“And what exactly is my current situation, Rhysand? What do you have to apologise for?” Azriel’s voice was low and dangerous. Amren snorted at the display, reaching for her wine glass. He expected a scathing remark, but it never came as Rhys shot her a look, and in a rare moment of deference she adhered as he implored her to remain silent.
“The female that was in the house earlier-“
“The thief.” Azriel interrupted.
“No,” Feyre cut in before Rhys could continue. “Her name is Y/N, and she’s your mate Az. The situation,” Feyre seemed to find describing it as such distasteful, but she continued. “Is that she is pregnant, with your child. That’s why we’re sorry, if we knew how dangerous it would be we never would have asked you to go alone.”
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Three brothers for three sisters, that was what Azriel had always thought about, always dreamed. The cauldron blessing him with undeniable proof that, though not blood-related, he and his brothers were three equal parts in the eyes of fate. He’d wanted that, seeing how happy they were in their relationships filled him with bone-deep envy. Observing from the sidelines as Rhys and Feyre prepared for the new addition to their family with vigour, as Cassian and Nesta had danced around each other in slowly shrinking circles. The other halves of their souls. That should have been him and Elain, never mind the mockery of the bond Vanserra thought they had. Azriel knew it was a mistake, a sick joke that would all work out in the end because there was no other way it could be. Three brothers for three sisters.
He wanted it all. A house on the outskirts of the city, filled with the sweet scent of Elain’s baking and made beautiful by the flowers she cultivated in their gardens. Filled with sunlight and happiness, somewhere to retreat from the darkest corners of his life. He’d dreamed of that life in the secret hours of the dawn, of a future where the issues of Feyre’s pregnancy had been resolved and perhaps their home was filled with the noise of children.
Now he had awoken in a future where he had those things, a mate, an unborn babe on the way, only to find it wasn’t with whom he desired. Elain, whom he had woken in this world for, who had been so tender in his first moments of consciousness, who had kissed him back. Azriel couldn’t imagine choosing to build that life with anyone else.   
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A/N - Phew! I know, the angst was real. I promise it will get better, but there's definitely a long way to go here! Part three is in the works, not sure when it will be finished but hopefully it won't be too long.
Tag list: @kalulakunundrum @impossibelle @we-were-beautiful @going-through-shit @mulansaucey @sv0430 @naturakaashi @amygdtjhddzvb @airstrip-0 @acourtofsmutandstarlight @myheartfollower @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @valencia-rou @amysangel @furiousbooklover @phoenixgurl030 @imnotsiriusyouare @i-am-infinite
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greekmythcomix · 6 months
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How I teach the Iliad in highschool:
I’ve taught the Iliad for over a decade, I’m literally a teacher, and I can even spell ‘Iliad’, and yet my first instinct when reading someone’s opinions about it is not to drop a comment explaining what it is, who ‘wrote’ it, and what that person’s intention truly was.
Agh. <the state of Twitter>
The first thing I do when I am teaching the Iliad is talk about what we know, what we think we know, and what we don’t know about Homer:
We know -
- 0
We think we know -
- the name Homer is a person, possibly male, possibly blind, possibly from Ionia, c.8th/9th C BCE.
- composed the Iliad and Odyssey and Hymns
We don’t know -
- if ‘Homer’ was a real person or a word meaning singer/teller of these stories
- which poem came first
- whether the more historical-sounding events of these stories actually happened, though there is evidence for a similar, much shorter, siege at Troy.
And then I get out a timeline, with suggested dates for the ‘Trojan war’ and Iliad and Odyssey’s estimated composition date and point out the 500ish years between those dates. And then I ask my class to name an event that happened 500 years ago.
They normally can’t or they say ‘Camelot’, because my students are 13-15yo and I’ve sprung this on them. Then I point out the Spanish Armada and Qu. Elizabeth I and Shakespeare were around then. And then I ask how they know about these things, and we talk about historical record.
And how if you don’t have historical record to know the past, you’re relying on shared memory, and how that’s communicated through oral tradition, and how oral tradition can serve a second purpose of entertainment, and how entertainment needs exciting characteristics.
And we list the features of the epic poems of the Iliad and Odyssey: gods, monsters, heroes, massive wars, duels to the death, detailed descriptions of what armour everyone is wearing as they put it on. (Kind of like a Marvel movie in fact.)
And then we look at how long the poems are and think about how they might have been communicated: over several days, when people would have had time to listen, so at a long festival perhaps, when they’re not working. As a diversion.
And then I tell them my old and possibly a bit tortured simile of ‘The Pearl of Myth’:
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(Here’s a video of The Pearl of Myth with me talking it through in a calming voice: https://youtu.be/YEqFIibMEyo?sub_confirmation=1
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And after all that, I hand a student at the front a secret sentence written on a piece of paper, and ask them to whisper it to the person next to them, and for that person to whisper it to the next, and so on. You’ve all played that game.
And of course the sentence is always rather different at the end than it was at the start, especially if it had Proper nouns in it (which tend to come out mangled). And someone’s often purposely changed it, ‘to be funny’.
And we talk about how this is a very loose metaphor for how stories and memory can change over time, and even historical record if it’s not copied correctly (I used to sidebar them about how and why Boudicca used to be known as ‘Boadicea’ but they just know the former now, because Horrible Histories exists and is awesome)
And after all that, I remind them that what we’re about to read has been translated from Ancient Greek, which was not exactly the language it was first written down in, and now we’re reading it in English.
And that’s how my teenaged students know NOT TO TAKE THE ILIAD AS FACT.
(And then we read the Iliad)
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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 9 months
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Gonna hold you
Gonna kiss you in my arms
Gonna take you away from harm
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a/n: So first and foremost, this is an early birthday present to my one and only true mate @brekkershadowsinger. You're an absolute love of my life and I'll never get tired of telling you that! Second of all, be gentle with me I haven't written for Az in a hot minute. 🤍
request: Since your requests are open could I ask for a Azriel x reader scenario? One where they are pinning for each other but someone obssesed with reader seduces/controls her with a enchantment or a spell and suceeds at some point, but our batboy realizes and comes to save her and that's when the bond snaps.
warnings: capture, kidnapping, murder... yeah
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"You're so smitten", Cassian says, trying to catch up with Azriel, who strides past the streets of Velaris. "No, I am not", the male grumbles back, picking up his pace. The two batboys were making their way to the little bakery that had opened not long ago. Well, it wasn't the bakery itself that was the reason for the trip, even if the baked goods there were to die for. It was you and you alone who had Azriel go there every free moment that he had.
"No, but you so are", Cassian said once again, since Azriel slowed down slightly while his thought lingered. "I swear if you don't shut up…", "You will stab me, burry me where no one could find me…", Cassian bent finger after finger as he named all the threats Azriel had made in the past two weeks since you had walked into his life. "But, dear friend, I'm mated to Nesta, so be wary of that", Azriel rolled his eyes at that threat. "As if she doesn't want to leave you in the ditch herself most of the time". To that, Cassian let out a loud gasp, "You take that back", but Azriel didn't even bother as he stepped into the little building, bending slightly since the doors were rather low for his tall frame.
This place used to be an ancient supply store before the war, but the owner never returned. Rhys had worked night and day trying to provide for families, hold their broken lives in his hands, and help them build them right back up. But the town shifted. There were many more new faces. Quite a handful of refugees from different courts have traveled here, full of hope and dreams, and Rhys has welcomed them all. Among that mass was you.
And mother struck Azriel dead, but he had never seen anyone else that was even close to what you were. He doubted that you had any magical powers. But in his eyes, you were the goddess of beauty herself. Someone who felt like a home at first glance. Someone who made it feel right. Who finally made Azriel slow down. Who got him so lost in his own mind that Azriel forgot about the steps in training.
The spymaster caught you refilling some couple's cups with a bright smile, and it was as if the room was glowing alongside you. You lifted your head, probably weary of the eyes watching you, and your face lit up once more. With the last goodbyes, you moved to walk closer to Azriel. Who looked way too big for this tiny place with his broad shoulders.
"Amazing, you're here. I thought I'd have to sit next to this sulking ass all morning", Cassian said, beating you to your first hello and leaving you quietly taken back by his words. Azriel threw him a deathly glare before yanking his man bun backward, causing the soldier to stagger back. "Don't pay him any attention; hit his head during training", Azriel's grip didn't loosen, and you couldn't help but frown slightly. "Ice?", the shadow singer hummed. "If it's not too much trouble, and two cups of tea while you're at it". You nod quickly before rushing towards the back room. "If you'll open your mouth one more time", Azriel glared at Cassian, who looked more like a toddler who just got a proper scolding from his mother than a scary Illyrian, "I'll sit still and look pretty, soldiers promise".
Azriel wasn't sure why he took Cassian with him in the first place, but he just had to. A part of him was scared. He got nervous around you. It was like all of his systems would overheat, and he would start ranting the most stupid nonsense, looking like an absolute loser. And well, no one besides Cassian knew about the feelings blossoming in the spymaster's heart. He was the one to point out that Azriel had fallen for you. The one who encouraged his brother to go offer you help with getting the bakery ready. The one who told him how to compliment you from time to time, even if it came out slightly weird at times. Azriel had never truly taken a liking to someone to this extent. So he needed backup, and well, Cassian was the best he got.
"You sure you don't need to see a healer?", Azriel snapped his gaze up, watching as you carefully pressed the pack of ice to Cassian's head. "I'm a worrier, lady; I've seen worse", Cassian's fingers brushed yours as he took the pack from your delicate fingers. A part of Azriel grew jealous. He wouldn't call himself territorial, and well, you weren't his, but still, it just didn't sit well with him. "And I made you tea how you like it", Pushing the cup towards the shadow singer, you smiled lightly. "Dash of milk and some honey", "Thank you, Y/N.", Azriel gave you a tight smile. Cassian nudged him under the table slightly, but it didn't seem to change much.
Your eyes scanned the bakery; considering that it was still pretty early, you didn't have too many customers to tend to, so you pulled the chair for yourself, wanting nothing more but to stay in the Illyrian presence for as long as possible. "The paint for the walls came", you muttered quietly, "I didn't open all the cans but had to peek to see the color", a light giggle escaped your lips, and Azriel wished he could hear that sound forever. "Do you have someone to help you?", Azriel never really liked that his voice sounded so harsh compared to yours, but he just didn't know how to make it sound more gentle. You shook your head. "Brian still can't move his arm; the healer said it has to stay wrapped for at least a couple more weeks". Brian was an older male who came along with you. You had told Azriel that he was the closest thing to family you had ever had, and so Azriel grew to respect the man who had given up a lot just so he could provide for you.
"I can come by and help; the next couple of evenings are free for me", Azriel said, but you shook your head, "I can't ask the spymaster of the night court to help me paint the walls". It was nice for him to offer, but this was too much. They had all done way too much already. "Don't worry, Azriel over here is capable of many things", Cassian said, clapping his brother on the shoulder, "Getting dirty just happens to be one of them", and Cassian was surprised that his head didn't meet the tabletop after those words.
Azriel did return to the bakery that same evening. The place was much more lively. All the tables were occupied, and you were twirling around them like a little bee, buzzing away with a never-ending smile on your face. Your light was the first thing that made you way out of his league. Everything you were, Azriel wasn't, and all he could think of was how he would stain you with his darkness.
"We don't have free tables, but I can make you a spot by the counter if you want?", Azriel jumped slightly at the sound of your voice. Mother, he needed to stop daydreaming around you so much. It was not good for his image, yet he just can't seem to keep his head in check. If beforehand all he could think about was work and the past, now it was all occupied by you.
"I can always just stay here", Azriel blurted out, gesturing to the side of the street, making your eyes grow big. "And eat on the ground, no way". Your much smaller hand grabbed his palm. And Azriel wanted to pull away, not wanting you to feel the scars that covered his skin, but your soft skin only presses against his palm firmly as you dragged him through the filled room.
Only when you two stepped into the little side room did Azriel speak up again, "I came to help with the paint". Another bland response; he generally needed to start working on that, but then you didn't seem to mind it. But what if you did? What if that ended up being the reason why you would potentially reject him? Not that you would ever want to do anything with him anyway.
"Az no..", his name rolling from your lips sounded sweeter than honey, and Azriel had to hold himself back from asking you to say it once again. "I'll work on some paperwork till you close, then we'll start painting", The spymaster shrugged his shoulders, summoning one of his shadows and pointing to the pile of papers the little dark creature barely managed to hold up. You gave him a look. One of those looks that Azriel hadn't yet learned to read.
"You know you won't reach the top of the wall anyway", the spymaster tried to reason, but you only crossed your arms over your chest. "I can get a ladder", you shrugged, "And fall over potentially, no", Azriel's voice sounded way higher. And now all he could see was you laying there unconscious. You said nothing for a bit, then leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Azriel's cheek. Some of his shadows started to twirl around him, causing the crimson blush on your cheeks to darken even more. You two lingered in silence tomorrow until you ran your hands over your apron and quietly slipped through the door back to the main part of the bakery. Azriel lifted his hand to his cheek, rubbing his fingers over the spot where your lips had been a moment ago.
"Can we paint shapes and then paint over them?", you giggled to yourself softly, a brush in your hand as you looked back at Azriel, who stood not far away from you, the sleeves of his shirt rolling up his arms, making his mucky arms seem even thicker. "Sure, do it if you feel like it", Azriel had watched you almost all night, and how could he not when you came to drag him out of the side room. Everyone was gone. You had pushed a couple of tables together, lit some candles, and had a warm meal steaming in the middle of the table. To say that Azriel's heart had nearly burst would have been an understatement. You had refused to tell him where the paint cans were until he had a proper meal because you had a feeling that he hadn't eaten much today.
"Do you paint?", you asked suddenly, finishing the outline of the flower that you had chosen to paint on the wall. "No, Fayre is the painter in the family", but that was only partly true. Feyre was the one who everyone knew for a fact painted in the family. So did Azriel; he just chose to do it in the comfort of his room. And for a while now, all he could draw and sketch was you. Was it in some way creepy? Yes, and that was the reason why no one would ever see it. But a part of Azriel feared that with time the memories of you might fade, so he wanted to capture and keep at least a couple of them.
"I heard that the high lady is a true beauty as well", you said with a dreamy sigh. Not even half as beautiful as you, Azriel wanted to say, yet he didn't. "Is it strange now that the city has been fed with newcomers?", You had dropped the brush back into the can by then, turning to watch Azriel's face. "More work on the safety part, but other than that, I don't care for it much", The hurt that suddenly shimmered in your eyes made Azriel want to add that you and Brian were by no means a part of the trouble. Or that he did care because that wave of refugees had brought you into his life, but those words seemed too big. Too close to the shadow singer's heart, so he choked them out.
"I guess everyone adapts differently", your eyes fell on the big bakery window, and for a moment, the room fell silent. Azriel found himself asking, "What do you mean?", when a stranger sensation started to twist his guts. "Oh, nothing too serious", you waved your head carelessly, "There's just this male. He comes by, stares through the window, and murmurs stuff ". Azriel's eyebrows knitted together in an instant. The worrier inside him woke up immediately. Red flags and warning signals rang in his ears. You must have sensed the tension and the shift in soft energy.
"Brian ushered him away a couple of times", you tried to reassure the spymaster. Brushing your fingers over one of the shadows that had started to swirl around the room. "I'll look into him", Azriel said firmly. "That is unnecessary", you followed suit straight away, but it seemed as if Azriel didn't hear you. "Maybe get one of the males I trust to stay nearby". You pulled at his hand softly. Letting your fingers tangle with him as you squeezed his hand, you said, "That is even more unnecessary".
Azrie wanted to argue, but then you were so close to him. He could feel your heartbeat. He could feel your body's warmth. He could smell you. He could touch you. And he did softly brush a strand of hair away from your face. "I'm sure the man just suffered a serious trauma during the war. We all deserve to have some peace, and if watching through the bakery window gives him that, let it be", you broke the silence once more before leaning in to press a kiss to Azriel's chest.
Just Azriel couldn't let it be. Especially when Rhys and the work on his hands kept him away from the bakery for the next couple of days. He felt restless. Even on the first night after not seeing you, Azriel was ready to just fly to you. Even if it was just so he could listen to your heartbeat for a moment.
And his concerns only grow when he and Cassian eventually made their way to the bakery. Brian was pacing in front of the building, the cane he uses to get around wobbling in his hands. "Sir", Azriel called out carefully, not wanting to startle the old man even more. And the way Brian's face both lit up at the sight of the spymaster and fell at the same time made Azriel think of the worst possible scenarios. "She's gone", Brian reached the bandaged hand towards Azriel, shaking as a leaf in the midnight air. "What do you mean gone?", Azriel tried to stay professional, to not let the words spoken affect him—not yet, not now; he needed a clear mind. "She.. she just", Brian's legs bucked, but Azriel quickly steadied him, throwing a glance at his brother who stood nearby, "Cassian, grab a glass of water".
Walking the male to the nearest chair to sit down, Azriel allowed him a moment to breathe. But he can see the need in Brian's eyes as he spoke up again< "She wasn't like herself. Her eyes… they looked dead". At this point, Azriel felt the fear start to choke him slowly. Let its nails dig into his throat and squeeze as hard as possible.
"Then that man came, and she just walked out with him", Brian gestured to the window, and Azriel instantly knew that he had made the biggest mistake when he agreed to drop this. Everyone deals with their trauma differently. How does this man do, then? By stealing young, innocent females?
"What man?", Cassian asked, and the question was needed. In place. And required when they dealt with trouble in the city. Just Azriel didn't count this as yet another mission in the city. His mind was working so fast that he gently started to feel like he was seeing sounds and hearing colors. "Azriel…", Brian called out for the spymaster, and he instantly drew his eyes back to the man, who had reached out to him once again. "She's been so happy with you the past couple of weeks, and it looked like she had no recollection of that when she left". Azriel didn't let the words set it. Happier. Happier because of you. Happier because she found something in you. Happier for the first time in a long while. Happier, just like you deserved to be, but where are you now? Where was he supposed to find you?
"We're going to the house of wind", Azriel said firmly as he stood up. "Rhys will look into your mind. I need to see the man's face. I need to know what to look for. Need to…", Cassian clasped Azriel's shoulder and said, "Start by taking a breath in", The general of bloodshed could practically feel Azriel's heart trying to beat out of his chest, "We'll find her; we won't stop until she's back home".
They are not wrong when they say that the unknown is what you fear most in life. You can handle things going bad; you can even prepare for and predict some of them, but it's when the situation is laced with uncertainty that it hits you, crippling you to your core. Azriel felt like he had lost a part of himself. As if one of his limbs had been cut off and he just now realized the necessity of it. Walking aimlessly, thinking thoughts that lead nowhere. He had everything. Everything that he didn't even know he had was gone. He hadn't even stopped to acknowledge it. Azriel's shadows had been twirling all over Velaris, but in a couple of hours, they had led him nowhere near you.
That was until such a strong sensation hit him. Like banging from behind closed doors. Something was reaching and clawing to get his attention. Azriel gripped his chest abruptly. The voices in the room died down. Turning into unidentified muffles. Where are you, Azriel ran that question through his mind once more. Where are you, my little light? The pain ripped through him once more, and the spymaster let out a quiet growl.
"I say we move the search out of the city", Rhys said, pointing to the areas he would suggest checking first on the map. "The mountains", Cassian also added. But Azriel shook his head, "No", the two bat boys exchanged glances, "Azriel", "I said no". Cassian wanted to speak, but Rhys shook his head quickly before saying, "We just want to…", "I can fucking feel her. I feel her here. She's here", Azriel roared as he quickly stood up.
Rhys read the situation fast, a knowing gleam flickering in his eyes. He too had been in a situation where the world was working against him and the love of his life, and now, with Azriel standing in front of him panting like a hurt animal, Rhys knew the truth and knew where this was leading, "Say a word, and we will go where you feel that she is kept".
The place was nothing more than a cave, a cave covered and drenched in dark magic enchantments. Tucked away on the north side of Velaris. Easy to miss because nothing hid you away more than the darkness itself. In the darkness, you could easily blend into absolute nothingness. You were there with your dress ripped to bits, twirling like a spring flower; just your face looked dead. No emotions. Eyes unseeing. The male motioned for you to step forward. And you did—no fighting, no pleading. Fully in control. The necklace gleamed in the firelight. The voices inside Azriel's head roared. That must be the main source of this insanity, then.
It took all of Azriel's self-control not to just march in there right then and there. He didn't want to wait for everyone to get into their position. This meant that he had to watch you being toyed with for one more minute, and it was already one minute too long. His hands gripped both of the daggers that he was holding. He thought of all the ways he knew how to end a life. All the ways he could drag out a death. Everyone deals with trauma in their own way. Your voice echoed in Azriel's mind once more. Well, this was how Azriel dealt with his.
When they finally struck, they quickly realized that the place was filled with at least a handful of other girls, all drained to the point of barely standing. Whatever had been happening here had been overseen, and for that, Azriel was ready to take the blame because this should have never been a thing in the first place. It was Azriel who pierced the male straight through the heart, letting Rhys devour the rest with his dark magic, crushing whatever remained of it around the cave. The moment the enchantments vanished, the place was filled with females gasping and crying. Please, confusion. Azriel noticed Cassian softly talking to some of the women. We're here to help, not to harm. Even if it seemed far too late.
Azriel's eyes fell on your shaky frame. The tugging in his chest continued with every step that he took closer to you. Your body flinched right as the spymaster kneeled in front of you, but the moment your eyes met his, you leaped forward, burying yourself in his strong chest. Azriel wrapped his arms around your middle without a second thought.
"I got you; you're safe; you're all okay", he whispered over and over, fingers brushing through your hair gently. "Az", you muttered almost in disbelief still, holding onto the spymaster as if your life depended on it, and in a way it did. "Yeah, my love, it's me", pulling away slightly, Azriel cupped your face, wanting nothing more than to bring back that happy gleam to your eyes once more.
"Az", you murmured once more, now watching him, memorizing him, and remembering him. "No one will ever harm you", Azriel stated firmly. He wouldn't allow it. Never again. You were his to look after now. You shook your head in disbelief, your delicate fingers brushing over the spymaster's sharp jaw. "It's you", your voice was nothing but a whisper, and Azriel couldn't help but smile as he turned his head to the side to kiss your palm, "It's me", he said.
"My…", but your breathing hitched as your head lulled back. Azriel was quick to steady your neck, but it didn't stop the panic from spiraling. You can't die. You couldn't have just died. His eyes darted to Rhys, who slowly approached you two and said, "Let's bring her back home, hun?".
Watching you sleep—at least that's what Madje said—was torture. Azriel was glad that your body was doing everything in its power to wear off the stress as quickly as possible, but he had to hear you tell him that you were okay. That you weren't hurt. That nothing happened there because he would bring back that fucker once again just so he could skin him again.
Your body stirred slightly, and Azriel held his breath. The flicker of the bond between you grew brighter. It fully snapped into place for Azriel when he stepped out of the cave with your unconscious body in his arms. He couldn't help but wonder what the last thing you wanted to say was. My what? Love? Savor? Mate? He would take any of those; he just needed to see your eyes once more.
With a couple of slow blinks, your eyes shot open, your breath picking up as the unfamiliar room filled your senses. He did not bring you back home, he wanted to be with you until you woke up, so his room felt like the most comfortable place at the time. "It's okay; you're in my room; you're safe now", he said softly, reaching out for your hand. Your gaze fell onto him once more, eyes filling up with tears.
"Come here", Azriel muttered. Sitting closer to you, he brought you into his arms, mindful of the weight of his wings pressing against your legs. Your arms sneaked around his neck as you held him close. Azriel sent nothing but love and light through the bond in hopes of soothing you even more, and he was more than surprised when he felt the same love coming back from your side.
The shadow singer pulled away slightly; he hated seeing your tear-stained eyes. "You…", he started, and you nodded your head. Knowing without words what he was about to say. Mates. As odd and unexpected as it was, you two were chosen for each other. A light smile painted your lips as you pressed your forehead against his. Azriel breathed you in. Finally allowing himself to let go of the tension. Finally letting himself believe that you were safe.
"Could I", you started, crimson tinting your still pale cheeks, "Could I kiss you?" The question was nothing but innocent. Yet carried by nothing but a desire to feel whole. To find that extra strength in having someone you could fully lean onto. Azriel brushed some of your hair from your face, his fingers caressing your cheek, "You don't have to ask because I would love nothing more".
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All acotar writing taglist: @brekkershadowsinger @cityofidek @baebeepeach @lucyysthings @hideings @urfavbrunettebish @historygeekqueen @marina468 @courtofjurdan
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clanwarrior-tumbly · 3 months
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Can I request this. A dancer reader with pokemon scarlet and violet. Reader has meloetta, oricorio, scream tail, primarinna, hoopa and toxtricity.
If you want the lore on this reader. They are a singer whose family was said to be the descendants of a siren.
This reader has never caught a pokemon with a pokeball. The pokemon that join reader just travel with them. This reader uses sign language or writing to communicate as their voice is dangerous as it can charm anyone ho hears it if they aren't related to reader from their dad's side.
Reader went to this school was near to her mom's childhood home.
Meloetta and Primarinna (who ia an alpha pokemon) were able snap people out of Reader's voice and joined reader so they don't hurt anyone with their voice.
Toxtricity is protects reader from being kidnapped and overprotective and is resistant to their voice because punk rock.
Hoopa follows reader as reader is interesting.
Scream tail was a pokemon her grandma asked to protect reader.
As a dancer, you've made quite a name for yourself in the Paldea region--almost rivalling celebrities like Ryme and Iono.
People everywhere find your performances stellar, especially when your Pokémon provided backup dancing and singing.
A year prior to the Treasure Hunt, you did a show for the Festival of Masks in Kitakami, telling a moving story about the "Loyal Three" and Ogerpon.
Ofc you regretted it after learning that was a false narrative.
Speaking of your team, it was quite peculiar...consisting of an Alpha 'mon with menacing red eyes, two mythicals, an Ancient Paradox 'mon that somehow got out of the crater, and a perfectly normal Toxtricity and Oricorio.
However, you don't speak much, preferring sign language and/or writing as ways of communication..and your friends wondered why...
Although after becoming close with Arven, Penny, and Nemona (and eventually Carmine and Kieran), you wrote them all messages detailing your past.
You're a descendant of sirens, appearing entirely human yet having the alluring voice of one.
You basically know Hypnosis..but it wasn't something you were proud of, because you've charmed people into following your voice, and...it almost always ended badly.
Unfortunately, that made you a prime target in several kidnappings from evil organizations in other regions.
They falsely believed your family could somehow learn Pokémon moves and became obsessed with harnessing that same power..even though it had nothing to do with Pokémon at all.
Since moving to Paldea, it's become your safe haven, especially since your mom's childhood home was here and you could retreat to it whenever you wished.
After your grandma gave you Scream Tail to accompany you during your many journeys, the rest of your team sorta formed itself.
You never believed in using pokeballs, and thus they followed you wherever you went (ofc as long as it was allowed).
Oricorio was always perched on your shoulder to scout out high places and be your number 1 cheerleader (in the case of the pom-pom variant).
Amped!Toxtricity became your bodyguard and a friend you could rely on after learning its Punk Rock ability made it quite resistant to your voice. So you'd make small talk with it, although you still don't say too much.
It's ready to throw hands wherever and whenever you're being bothered--by students, staff, and tourists alike.
Alpha!Primarinna was a lass you discovered at the Wistful Fields one summer day, having come a long way from Hisui (like Bloodmoon Ursaluna).
Normally Alphas are belligerent, but she felt a sudden connection to you and obeyed you right on the spot. A giant and loyal protector.
Hoopa travelled through space and time to meet you, finding you quite interesting...and grinned deviously after you managed to win its prison bottle at an auction.
It almost caused chaos at the mart, tricking you into opening it, but even you were able to tame its Unbound form and convince it to become Confined again.
Finally, Meloetta was lured to one of your performances and provided beautiful backup vocals, and ever since then you two have done many duos as dancer/singer.
Her and Primarinna are the only ones who can snap people out of your spells. They know you hate to hurt others but sometimes humans just push your buttons and...well...next thing you know, the two ladies are scrambling to save them from walking through hostile territory to greet you.
Fortunately, those events happen rarely now and you've been able to form meaningful friendships.
Since nobody in your team is stuck in a pokeball, they usually hang out at your mom's childhood home or in your dorm--but Toxtricity and Oricorio insist on being with you in-class.
As far as everyone's reactions go...
.......
Nemona is PSYCHED to see you have a team specifically themed around music and song (except for Hoopa, although it knows Throat Chop yet seldom uses it), always wanting to battle them.
Also converses with you in sign language. I hc she learned it so she could communicate with deaf/HOH trainers so they can battle with her, too, free of judgement.
Penny is both impressed and terrified tbh--especially with the Alpha who has looks that could kill if it weren't for your unique connection with the giant water/fairy. But her Sylveon gets along with Primarinna surprisingly well.
Arven almost didn't believe you were a descendant of sirens until he witnessed you hypnotize a substitute who thought you weren't answering their question..nearly falling into the trance himself until Meloetta showed up.
He's never doubted your power since.
Carmine did tease you in the beginning for being even quieter than her little brother, but felt guilty after reading your letter...wanting to learn sign language herself to own up to her mistakes.
Kieran saw your performance at the festival and couldn't believe you returned to Kitakami as a student, wanting to challenge him to a battle.
You? A celebrity? Against him????
But after the ordeal with Ogerpon, he felt betrayed by his two biggest idols...and so your letter went unread, although it remained in his bag and he finally looked at it post-Indigo Disk.
He showed up to your dorm at BB Academy that same day, a bagful of candy apples and berries as another apology.
Least to say, your team adored the treats.
Even Toxtricity--who genuinely thought he was being an annoying brat this entire time--finally softened up around him.
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Morning Whispers
Summary: Harry’s raspy morning voice turns Y/N on
W.C: 719 
Warnings: None, just mentions of oral sex 
Tags: Singer!Boyfriend!Harry x Girlfriend!Y/n 
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The rays of sunshine falling through the mesh curtain like sprinkles of glitter. Watching the sun shine on a winter morning is the best feeling ever. But you know what's even better than that… having a man with a face chiselled with features handcrafted by the gods of ancient Greece sleeping right next to you on the same bed. The irony between the soft sunlight kissing his manly face that seems to have aged like fine wine with wisdom, oh how she envied the sun. His eyebrows always seem to quiver while he is relaxed in his sweet slumber. She knows how stressful the last couple weeks have been for him. Harry is planning his next world tour, she is extremely happy for her boyfriend however it has taken a toll on his mental health. She can’t help but stare at the butterfly tattoo on his abs that move rhythmically with each breath. These were the moments she lived for. The feeling where the world goes quiet, a sense of absolute serenity… a little world of their own, just her and Harry. Sometimes it's hard for her to believe that the moment she is experiencing is actually true. A dream came true. She could never get enough of him. Y/N cant help but smile as she watches his lips slightly pout in his sleep, a habit he has that she noticed from the very beginning of their relationship. Even now, after 3 years into their relationship, it makes her smile at how innocent he looks while he sleeps. She moves her face closer to his and gives him a small kiss on his lip. Moving her hands into his hair just to massage them lightly. 
His eyes slowly open as he tries to adjust to the bright sunlight. He smiles as he watches the love of his life staring at him like he is the only man she has ever seen. Anyone watching them from far away could say that they love each other to death. Harry pulls Y/N into a deep, passionate kiss to start the day on a good note. “Good mornin’, my sweet pea,” he says in his deep, raspy morning voice. “Oh, Im fucked,” she thinks to herself. If someone asked her what motivates her to get up in the morning. She sure would answer by saying “just to hear his morning voice”. Harry has always had a deep yet calming voice, however, his voice tends to get extra deep in the morning. It resembles his raw, sexual masculinity. However, Y/n's voice tends to be the exact opposite of Harry’s. Soft, delicate and fragile. This is because most mornings her voice is gone due to shouting and moaning Harry’s name all night. 
“You know how much I love you right, darling?” He speaks with care and love in his voice. The deadly combination of his sweet words of affirmation and his alluring, sensual voice gets Y/n’s mind in a spiral. He never fails to mention how much he loves her first thing in the morning. “I know. I love you too. A little too much right now,” she says in her soft voice. “Yeah, why is that?” he asks, knowing the reason very well. A few months into the relationship he realised how much his morning voice turned her on. Although she never confirmed it, he knew very well. “You know very well baby” she replies back. He just hums back and pulls her into his chest. Her back touching his chest. He sprinkles small kisses on her neck and kisses her a little longer on the spot that he knows is extremely sensitive. Leaving a small mark for him to admire later on in the day. He drags his hand on her waist down to her naked stomach, rubbing small circles. Y/N usually sleeps in her cute, crop tops and shorts while Harry sleeps only in his boxers. Harry positions Y/N on her back as he gets on his knees. She knows exactly what he is going to do and to say she was excited (in both ways;)) was an understatement. She gasps as he pulls her shorts down. He spanks her inner right thigh and groans and murmurs “Now hush, let daddy have his breakfast in peace.”       
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Let me know your view in the comments below!
Lots of Love
xoxo
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anotherghoul666 · 1 year
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i JUST started listening to sleep token and went to the tag only to find you there, please tell me more about this band?? collective?? i need more
You got it buddy! One order of a full Sleep Token beginner primer, coming up!
Sleep Token are a rock? metal? genre blending collective based out of England, tho nobody's 100% sure of where the members are from because they are also a masked and anonymous project. Their style of music varies greatly from album to album and song to song. From soft ballads, to electronic music, to indie, to progressive / prog metal, to post-rock / post-metal, and now with their newest singles, a definite shift into heavier sounds with roots in djent and -core genre elements like breakdowns and scream vocals, let's just say they are very diverse and there are not many bands that sound the same out there. Their blending is pretty unique, and imo will prove to be genre-defining in the coming years. They are signed to Spinefarm records and they're touring as we speak in Europe.
They formed in 2016 and self-released their first EP called One that same year. Their second EP aptly called Two was released in 2017 on Basick. They currently have two full length albums out on Spinefarm, 2019's Sundowning and 2021's This Place Will Become Your Tomb, which are the crux of the material you wanna look into. I always advise that you listen to the whole albums front to back because artists plan these tracklists deliberately, so we owe it to them to consume their output the way they intended us to, but! I also realize nowadays nobody does that because of Spotify and streaming, unfortunately, so: for Sundowning, I'd recommend Sugar as a first track because it touches on both the soft and harsh sides of the album beautifully; and for TPWBYT I'd say start with Alkaline (bonus points for a delicious video to get you into their visual side too). On January 6th and 7th 2023, they released two new songs to showcase their new sound, Chokehold and The Summoning. These two singles seem to be the optimal path currently to get into the band. There are rumors of a new album called Take Me Back To Eden to be released this year, there's a tracklist floating around online though we don't know if its legit, and there are also rumors for new singles coming out, at the time of writing this, tomorrow and in two days, on the 19th and 20th of January 2023. There's also a recording of an acoustic show called From The Room Below floating online, with new takes on their previous songs and a few choice covers like Billie Eilish's When The Party's Over, surprising crossovers that are emotional experiences.
Now, visually and in theme, you'll notice the band has a storyline of sorts. The lore of Sleep Token is this: the band was formed after an ancient deity called Sleep (a reductive name that doesn't encompass the deity's nature at all, but its true name cannot be spoken in any human tongue) revealed itself to the singer, Vessel, in his sleep. Sleep appears to be a powerful force worshiped in ancient civilizations, that gave them the blessing of dreams and the curse of nightmares. Since this apparition, Vessel's life purpose has been to worship and make offerings to Sleep via music. The members of the band are all called vessels, we can infer vessels for Sleep. The singer is Vessel I, but the fandom's moved to just calling him Vessel. The other members are just called by their numbers. II is on drums, III is on bass, IV is on guitar. They're all vessels. They wear masks to hide their identities, with what seems to be full body black paint and some variety of stage costumes including hooded coats and capes and now apparently full pauldrons and void wizard staves.
You'll come across some specific lingo when encountering Sleep Token content or in the fandom. These terms mostly come from their official social media so they use them themselves, it's not fan made. "Worship" is the tagline, kinda like "Nema" is with Ghost. You'll see fans telling each other that all the time. To Worship is to take part in enjoying the band in any way you can: listening to the music, watching videos, streaming their stuff, spreading the word, going to shows, buying merch, etc. Sleep Token's shows are called Rituals, like Ghost's. Pictures and videos are referred to as Sacred Moments, or Sacred Moments in Time. The bands they tour with are called Brethren. Sleep Token's songs are called Offerings. Because they are written as a means to Worship the Sleep deity. Offerings can also be in the form of instrument playthroughs, videos, etc. What the band produces. When you listened to new material or acquire merch, you also Consume. A note on their anonymity to finish: while there are rumors about who the band members are, nothing's confirmed and the band's explicit wish is to maintain this anonymity, so it fundamental to respect those wishes and not try to dig. They value art for art, they let the music speak for itself, and they explicitely wish for their music to be detached from who they are as people. Let's leave the magic in place both for them and for us!
Welcome to the fold! Worship!
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crossdreamers · 1 year
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The transgender and nonbinary people of ancient Sumeria
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Did transgender people exist before tumblr?  Transphobes seems to think transgender identities did not exist before “gender ideology”. Dr. Moudhy Al-Rashid documents the existence of ancient trans people in a thread over at twitter.
//“To turn a man into a woman and a woman into a man are yours, Inana,” reads a 4,000-year-old temple hymn to Inana, the Sumerian goddess of love and war. Non-binary gender identities are not new. Brief thread in response to that one Karen.
Link to A hymn to Inana (Inana C): translation.
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Ishtar, the later Mesopotamian goddess of love and war, had gender fluid characterstics. Ashurbanipal’s hymn to Ishtar of Nineveh compares her to the god Ashur. “Like Ashur she wears a beard and is clothed with brilliance...The crown on her head gleams like the stars”
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Gender fluid identity appears throughout Mesopotamian history, like that of the assinnu, a word sometimes written as a combination of the cuneiform signs for “man” and “woman”. They served as cultic personnel to Ishtar and even as prophets, like one named Šēlebum in Mari.
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In Mesopotamian literature and myth, a gender fluid figure known as an assinnu named Asushunamir, helps rescue the goddess Ishtar when she becomes trapped in the Underworld.
In a Sumerian creation myth, the goddess Ninmah fashions several people out of clay. “She fashioned one with neither penis nor vagina on its body. Enki looked at the one with neither penis nor vagina on its body...and decreed its fate to stand before the king”.
Various other terms appear in cuneiform texts from ancient Mesopotamia that refer to people with non-binary gender and sex. The kalû was a singer, typically a man who participated in activities reserved for women. The pilpilû is one whose sex is “changed” by the goddess Ishtar.
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In conclusion, non-binary gender identity is not new and not difficult to understand. Shame on anyone with a platform who uses it to spread misinformation and hate.//
Full thread here.
By the way, one of the clearest proofs of transgender identities in ancient Sumer and Mesopotamia, were the priestesses of Inana (or Inanna, also known as Ishtar). They are known as the Gala (referred to as kalû above). T
hey presided over religious rites, healed the sick, predicted the future, made music, raised money for the poor, and “dissolved evil” during lunar eclipses.  They used feminine pronouns and dressed and lived as women. According to several sources they also castrated themselves. 
The goddess of Cybele, who is closely related to Ishtar/Inanna, also had transgender priestesses called Galli. That religion became very popular in the later Roman Empire.
Top photo: Ishtar
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lizardsister · 4 months
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god you KNOW ancient greek trans girls had the most incredible names. circe calypso the aphrodite temple priestess dating her girlfriend who literally named herself after aphrodite who is so hot the literal goddess just went "yeah fair". medusa the chariot racer with a full snake skin racing suit. hecate the fortune teller who also sold insanely good mandrake. siren the opera singer who only performed late night shows at the amphitheater
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elhokar-kholin · 2 years
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this one goes out to dalinar for taking a mass of men with unknown loyalties and at large no guarding experience and making them the royal guard, replacing the old guard who had years of trust built up, then one of those men with unknown allegiances nearly successfully assassinating the king within literally the first 3 weeks
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corspepointvision · 4 months
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A New Pelle Interview from Death Power!!! From DeadFromMayhem.ru Dark Hel
Interview with Dead, done by Scottis Kriss-Toff.
LITTLE STORY ?
It’s always the same hard to give a brief history and to shrunk down about 6 years. So, I tell of the line-up of MAYHEM. After that MANIAC (ex-vocalist) and MANHEIM (ex-drums) left (straight after the recording of "DEATHCRUSH"), I joined MAYHEM in the early spring 1988 and HELLHAMMER joined about a month later. We’ve got terribly hassles with rehearsal places, somewhere to live, money, etc etc... But we don’t feel for give up only to continue when the band is the reason of our existence.(We would be dead without MAYHEM, eh ! ! !) We’re still trying to get enough of material together for the L.P. We do only songs that will last for years, not the shit songs that becomes a short-time trends,...I hate trends !
STYLE ?
We’re a Black Metal band!!
INSPIRATION ?
We're trying not to copy other styles, but every band has got inspirations even if they don’t think so by themselves. We’re still VENOM Heads (old VENOM of course) and VENOM created the music. I’ve got personal influences by different singers of course and to mention some: MANTAS/early DEATH, SARCOFAGO, POISON (german of course), PARABELLUM (the first demo) and early SEPULTURA.
PRODUCTION ?
By all these years, it has not been much of discocraphy.There have been "PURE FUCKING ARMAGEDDON" in 1986 limited to 100 copies, DEATHCRUSH in 1987, our second demo, our mini-L.P. DEATHCRUSH in 1987 limited to 1000 copies + some rehearsals tapes given out by MANIAC’s "MANIAC PROD".
ACTUAL LINE-UP ?
-DEAD (but still not buried) (vocals)
-EURONYMOUS (greek name for prince of death) (lead guitar)
-NECROBUTCHER (bass)
-HELLHAMMER (drums)
ACTIVITIES OUT OF THE BAND ?
-DEAD : immigrate to Transylvania, castle mania, cut deeply in myself and others, torture humans and animals.
-EURONYMOUS : dangerous expriments with chemicals, weird science.
-NECROBUTCHER : guru and pot-smooker.
-HELLHAMMER : hellish drunks always and then sings sailor songs.
REASONS OF THE NAME MAYHEM ?
It sound cruel enough we think. But as the most people who’re reading this now, there has been lots of other "MAYHEMS" all over the world, but we were the first ! The name is from 1982 when EURONYMOUS had a band then.
CAN YOU SPEAK ME ABOUT YOUR LYRICS ?
At "PURE FUCKING ARMAGEDDON" the lyrics were pretty VENOM clones. "DEATHCRUSH" had more slaughter, insanity, Eating corpses style over it. As for the new ones, I make them far and I’m possessed of transylvanian legends and its castles, satanic coven meetings, black art and nice animals as vultures, bats and goats. So that, I write of Evil ! I’m inspired by evil in everything I do. When I make a drawing, it’s to express evil, when I talk, when I dream, when I’m thinking... and when I create lyrics.
WHAT WOULD YOU SAY IF I TELL YOU THE FOLLOWING WORDS ?
Alcohol : Nothing left. Drug : Against. Cigarette : No smoking. Sexe : Violence and death. Politic : Crap! Religion : Evil, ancient, Satanic! Money : Broke always... A.I.D.S. : Marcin Wawreynzak (of "ETERNAL TORMENT"). Torture : Nice to do. Noise : Children’s bands!!! Dream (hope) : Transylvania, Immortality. Death : Peace. Life : Stupid mortals! Rain : By the night. Wind : In the dark forest. Thunder : At the darkened sky. Evil : Evil weather, castle. NAPALM DEATH : Trend! Earth : No hope. Wizard : Black arts. The end : Crossover, straight edge and Grind. You : The superstitious mortals in Transylvania’s dreams came true...
YOUR TEN FAVORITS BANDS ?
(this is not in order) PARABELLUM (R.I.P.) from Colombia, SARCOFAGO from Brazil, MASACRE from Colombia, DEATHPEED (R.I.P.) from Japan, POISON (R.I.P.) from Germany, DAMNATION (R.I.P.) from Canada, TORMENTOR from Hungary, IMPERATOR from Poland, GROTESQUE from SWEDEN, REENCARNACTION from Colombia.
Do you know MAYHEM, the MAYHEM from U.S.A. ? What do you think about what they do.
I hate them !!! How can a records company releases such crap, even if they are a commercial label !?! We gave out our mini-L.P. "DEATHCRUSH" a half year before they released their excrement compilation ! I suppose you’ve heard the Brazilian MAYHEM (?). They’re now splitted up but that was at least a Death Metal band and I liked their music. There has been also other MAYHEM’s in the history but they don’t exist no longer. I know of two other still existing MAYHEM’s : from Hungary and from Uruguay.
HAVE YOU ALWAYS PLAYED IN DEATH/BLACK/EVIL/ FROM THE DOOM BANDS ?
The two bands I’ve singing in are MORBID and MAYHEM, the both of them are Black Metal.
WHY DID YOU LEAVE MORBID ?
‘Cause the original guitarist of the line-up left the band and the others didn’t know if they wanted to continue like before and to remain a dirty and a Black/Satanic band. There had been too many hassles of the gigs and between the members, so, after my opinion, that band didn’t exist after the first demo "DECEMBER MOON". Later, they recorded a second demo with another line-up, new logo and completly different style than before. Something I think I have to add here is that we’re thinking of having one, just one more MORBID gig of the old style as MORBID was (and also should be) and we also think of the finish song "DEATH EXECUTION" that the "DECEMBER MOON" ends with (on the demo it’s only the la-la version slowly of the refrain and the opening riff). It was a whole song but a not finished such coz we were changing it the time during MORBID’s existence and then, have one or two more songs and then, give it out as a demo… some dark day.
WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT WHITE METAL (METAL FOR THE BIBLE, METAL FOR JESUS) ?
First of all, I don’t think it’s Metal. Then, I think as long as it can be called Metal it comes originally from VENOM… Even if there is Grindcore, fun-noise, straight edge-anti-everything or yucky white metal. To me, only Black is true and only death is real !!!
THEY ALWAYS SAY THEY WANTS TO MAKE GIGS WITH BANDS LIKE VENOM OR SLAYER. WOULD YOU LIKE TO MAKE A GIG WITH STRYPER, VENGEANCE OR HOLY SOLDIERS ? WHY ?
It seems like the white « bands » believe Black Metal is only for fun… We’re a serious black band. We take this mortually serious! The « white » bands don’t deserve to exist.
HAVE YOU EVER HAD PROBLEMS WITH THE CHURCH OR ANYONE WHO FOLLOWS A RELIGION ?
Well, the chritians, new-boru christians, the mormons, hare-krishnas, Jehovas witnesses and more have tried lots of their methods of turn me into it, without success of course. The most of them, especially the christians and fanaticals but do not believe in it cos so many of them have been forced by their parents and their family to « believe » and, after that, they’re going out trying to make others join them… of the more limited believers who chose it by themselves and have got a belief in it, I use to scare them up (and to them it works almost every time) most of the cases. The all I have to do is to talk with them and they’re getting corpse pale in their faces and then realize I’m lost and impossible to turn over. One guy even tried an exorcism on me......
WHAT DO YOUR MOTHER THINK ABOUT MAYHEM ?
She (and also my dad) thinks it’s good for me that I’m in a band, so I don’t start with something stupid instead. It’s hell a work to play in a band, whatever someone might think. Only the letter writing is a full-day job. What she do not like is when I sometimes gets ideas of cutting myself up and when I lived at my parents home, none of them liked when I had parts of animals in my room (from some animals they used to start to rot already at the second day).
CAN YOU SAY A FEW WORDS ABOUT THE SONG « BURIED BY TIME AND DUST »
Not the best lyrics I’ve done.
YOU SEEM TO LIKE BLACK SIDES OF THINGS, WHY ?
It simply is my way of thinking. The only that feels as the possible right to me. I search for the Evil and Black in all matters and I don’t give a dawn of what others are saying of that !
WHAT IS OCCULTISM FOR YOU ?
It sounds too mystical only, to me... I’m into the pure Evil and right on Black ! But with that I don’t mean I’m a great sorcerer. I mean of a though and a style of living.
I just don’t really know why I’ve hated all the fucking christans the whole life of mine and I’d search for the Evil darkness. I totally ignore those who are telling me I sicking my head I better go to hospital. Occult can be just anything that people think sounds strange to them. There is no actual limits of what is the occult… Yes mystic, it can be anything from practice. After my opinion, that word occult doesn’t say anything !
IF i TELL YOU "SATAN",WOULD YOU LIKE 95% OF THE TRASHERS, RUNNING AWAY DO A STRANGE FACE, SHIT ON YOURSELF, SAY "NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NOT SATAN",AND GET ANGRY AFTER HAVING CALLED YOUR MOTHER ? WHY ?
Of course, I won’t run nor put shit on you. Mainstream people of clone bands used to fuck with the very few existing anti trend Black Metal bands when crossover-straight-edge-vegetarians ruled the trends… then grindcore was "in" and people used to refuse listen to anythong else than NAPALM DEATH, and so on... It’s not actually NAPALM DEATH who created this awful fashion actually, it was the children who then had to try playing fast. How I hated all the demos with hundred of second-sings and lyrics talking of how many animals that get killed coz of hamburgers and do not vegetables either coz they’re also living. AAAAARRGH !!! As what happens sooner or later with all trends they’re vanishing completly and everybody forget about it really fast. Even Death Metal became trend. At least, it’s on its way. So, what did happen to all the "important" lyrics bands that blamed all the others for not been "in". Did they went designing new fashions that everyone had to follow ? Hell no ! AAAAAAARRRHHHHGGHH-death, the mother fuckers jumped on Death Metal !!! How dared they make Death Metal to something normal that wimps are starting to play to await something new to appear… Next trend ! I will guess the most of the true BM heads (who’ve been into it since Venom) can understand what I mean here. It feels like something is really wrong when serious bands that wanna create something own musically are in ‘zines that also feature noise bands that have been existing for a week but already have released 3 demo’s or something like that and are playing in 25 differents "bands" only for fun. Bands that are sending picture of theselves who are supposed to be funny, strange glasses, toilet paper and a shirt on the head and so much other childish and above it all boring bullshit, I think those have misunderstood humour completely! I refuse to laugh of this! I cannot understand why everything has to be so fucking funny and how people can laugh at this, and if someone might laugh of this interview, I can tell him that he has misunderstood the whole point of this and the rest of this interview, read it again more carefully and he won’t find this funny at all! It’s not funny and I refuse to say something funny or laugh, everybody would misunderstand everything only. There’s so much that stupid people only seek for a good time, so they can laugh don’t understand by the music so I should even refuse listen to music... But that would be too hard to do and it needs more self control for that. The most of the new demo’s sound all the same, the originally is gone it seems. I can’t see why so many self-condemned bands have to exist. One weird thing is that when a band almost is formed they have to record a demo and straight after that, they "have to" give out something on vinyl... and then only after a few weeks they can’t understand how they could record this when they’re sounding much better now if they haven’t already forgot it.
DO YOU LIKE BLACK SABBATH (OLD ONES, WITH DIO AND OZZY) ?
Only with Ozzy! By dio I can listen to « Holy Driver » but nothing else.
DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN YOU WERE A HEAVY METAL KIDS ?
Hey, I’m lucky I’m not a NAPALM DEATH/CARCASS kid. Well, then the most Evil, "Occult", dirty and the worst are BLACK SABBATH, KISS,IRON MAIDEN, AC/DC and MOTORHEAD, they were my faves. When I heard VENOM and MERCYFUL FATE, it felt like I lost an important part of my brain and I worshipped them.
WHY ARE YOU ANTI-MOSH ?
Cos I hate that word !!! I wanna hear an explanation of what the moshers actually do when they’re moshing...
LAST WORD...
"Antiquus Malum Cruentus Scriptum De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas" : It’s a book I recommend.
CREDITS:
Link To The Page: https://www.facebook.com/PerYngveOhlinTributePage
Per Yngve Ohlin Tribute Page from Facebook
Link To The Post:
https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=pfbid02AzqVjvVATRPMWu7mnJ6cLiGPtTGYm2Q6sKaVWMHW3pVcK2LmYc2TiyH5kxKWmgipl&id=100044624010389
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flameobitch · 9 months
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AU is inspired by Renata Litvinova, a director and actress, and Zemfira, a rock singer. I am a fan of their creativity and my brain could not help but generate such an alter reality!
• Pippa is the Supreme Witch (I don't like the version with the Great Sorceress, it's the lot of men to call themselves something great as such without being).
• Hecate is an ethno-rock singer whose creativity is directed at the culture of ancient traditional witches and their rituals. Despite her 20-year career, no one knows anything more than her name.
• There was no Azura and imprisonment in this universe, Gwen was Hecate's mentor, and Pippa pushed her to write songs.
• Pippa goes to all of Hecate's concerts and the witch community shouts about their strong friendship at all. However, the media are confident in their affair, creating the only black spot in the reputation of the politician with rumors.
• Officially, Pippa is married to Joy Hardbroom, the head of the Hardbroom clan, the most influential family on the list of ten. Joy appears only in a couple with his wife and leads a closed lifestyle.
• Pippa has been the Supreme Witch for the last 5 years and conducts programs to support witches from human families and raise the level of magic.
• Gwen and Hecate's team are the only people who know about their marriage.
• Almost every song of Hecate is dedicated to Pippa, which gives rise to these rumors about the novel. Joy is not going to comment on anything.
• Hecate's repertoire and her voice are something in between Zemfira and Sounduk. Listen for the sake of interest to "Прогулка", "Крым", "Жить в твоей голове" (Zemfira) and "Лето", "Герой", "Считалка", "ВММ" (Sounduk)
• Pippa is tired of dealing with the press.
• Therefore, Hecate avoids society.
• Pippa likes to be photographed.
• Hecate can't stand it. But for Pippa's sake he will suffer.
• Hecate has a lot of tattoos, but there is a bright pink pentagram and a bottle with Latin hieroglyphs.
• Pippa collects Hecate's outfits for concerts. On the exits with Pippa, Joy chooses her own clothes. Most often it looks like a widow murdered in the Middle Ages.
• Pippa puts up Hecate's home photos and marks different accounts (separately Hecate and separately Joy) under different photos so that people just know that she is still alive.
• Pippa's accounts are kept by publicists, but the texts of the posts are written by Pippa herself.
• Hecate doesn't know how to run social networks. But she actively monitors the accounts of a few friends and is rude to his haters.
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unbidden-yidden · 2 months
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Jewish Song of the Day #12: Bellida
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Okay so at one point I went spelunking for more female Jewish singers singing in classical styles, and I stumbled upon this song, which is sung in Haketia, a Moroccan dialect of Ladino that also incorporates some Arabic.
It's a secular(ish) song, but very much culturally Jewish.
I'm not going to explain it well, so instead I'll simply quote from this article about it:
On October 25, 2019, Bloch and Zaaluk released their newest hit single Bellida. The song is sung in the traditional Haketia, an endangered Jewish Romance language also known as Djudeo Spañol, Ladino Occidental, or Western Judaeo-Spanish. Tamar is part of a new generation of young artists from Arab and Islamic countries who sing in their mother tongues. Her mother was born in Morocco. “I’m not involved in a preservation project and the social narrative isn’t what’s important to me. In my music I have found, after much searching, a real place for intimate expression – a language that’s a home, ” said the singer in her interview with Haaretz Magazine. Bellida is “definitely a pop album. It’s not world music from a distant and inaccessible culture, which is being preserved. I bring the songs in modern arrangements in the understanding of how relevant this music is.” The song was arranged with the help of Roee Fadida. It is a humoristic women’s song that represents the tradition of women singing in everyday life. “It tells the story about a Jewish-Moroccan girl (Bellida) who falls in love and marries Pepe, a Christian man. The ladies in her village make jokes about it but comfort her with local food.” Although Bloch and primarily sings with the goal of inspiring audiences to sing and dance, she understands her creation bears social obligation. Specifically, it is the female responsibility aspect of Bellida that Bloch warmly embraces. “It is something that I really yearn for,” she says. “Jews assimilation is a very serious prohibition, yet Bellida is not ostracized. She is cared for by means of tradition and food.” Bellida is Bloch’s interpretation of secular feminine folklore. “I imagine these women dancing together. Music brings people together. In Morocco, you see everyone sitting and singing, and being familiar with the words,” she says. “In Israel music reflects the various cultural homes from which we came. The real challenge is to try to create a new sound from within every such home.” In sharing her story of how the heritage songs came into her life, Bloch explained that in 2014, Roee Fadida, a role model, invited her to join a band that plays contemporary Moroccan music. She described having a physical reaction to that music. It felt like I was “smelling a roll outside a bakery and I had to take a bite.” Bellida is performed alongside Bloch’s band Zaaluk, a trans-Mediterranean and North African ensemble that revive lost Haketiya women’s songs. Their age-old melodies are performed to inspire people to sing and dance together and embrace the heritage of the ancient Jewish community of Spanish Morocco. Their sounds are inspired by Andalusian, North African, and Balkan musical traditions. Their music is a combination of electric guitar, bass guitar, drums, percussion, and powerful vocals, performed in Israel and abroad. The name of the band refers to a local Moroccan salad and captures the group’s multi-cultural essence.
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l0stvhs · 3 months
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INTRODUCING MY FURRY GUYS I GUESS. OR WHATEVER.
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Kicking off this account I guess with a selection of (at this point, quite old) Toyhouse icons I did of my miscellaneous OC’s. All from basically the same universe, but some of them may be part of different unrelated stories from one another
Below the cut, I’ll give a super brief description of my main OC stories and who each character is is.
—————————————— I have three or four story projects in active/current development at the present, but I’ll introduce the two most developed ones.
My main one is currently in need of a new title, but it’s a horror dramedy / murder mystery. about my fictional band with the tremendously on-the-nose name Dead Celebrities— whose rise to fame also coincides with a series of strange murders of several other prominent musicians in town. The story basically revolves around the members of the band trying to deduce who may be responsible for the killings, all while trying to stay alive themselves. The further they investigate, not only do they begin suspect one of their own may be the culprit, but that said culprit may be involved with even more sinister forces than they could have imagined.
My second one is called The Devil You Know, which revolves around the lead protagonist Nico who aspires to be a famous rock musician, but feels stifled by his chronic ailments and lack of skill. Through a boredom induced ouija board mishap, he finds himself summoning a demon who makes a deal with him to grant him otherworldly musical skill— unfortunately this leads to said demon possessing Nico, so now he must live with the experience of having the world’s worst roommate and a parasite wrapped up all in one ancient evil entity.
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As for the individual characters, I’ll introduce each in picture order from left to right.
1 / JESSE: Grumpy, broody, moody guitarist for an 80’s rock / heavy metal band called Dead Celebrities. Deep down very kind and sensitive despite what his aloof, offputting demeanor may indicate. Many wild town rumors circulate around him due to his mysterious nature, all of which are far more interesting than his actual life. Main protagonist of my murder mystery story. Also the main one trying to investigate the murders.
2 / CHERRY: One of Jesse’s best friends and member of Dead Celebrities’ rival band called Lost Daughters. A sarcastic spitfire and also her band’s lead singer. Is basically everyone’s wise older sister… even if she’s a bit smug about it sometimes. Part of the murder mystery story.
3 / PINK: Part of a story somewhat unrelated to the two I mentioned. His story takes place in the late 2000’s-early 2010’s. Former teen heartthrob kid’s sitcom actor turned somewhat washed up emo singer and social media personality. Has been cancelled every week for the past several years. Has made multiple YouTube apology videos. He’s kind of a fuckboy asshole (but he does redeem himself somewhat)
4/ WILEY: Weirdo bassist for Dead Celebrities and armchair paranormal expert. Professionally mentally ill, couch surfs and does odd jobs for income. Freaks out his roommates by doing seances in the apartment. Part of the murder mystery story. Is Donnie’s older half-brother.
5/ MEPHISTOPHELES: Demon. Nico’s parasite. Will drink all your pepsi and call you a bitch. Is the eternal spirit of a former musician. Part of the The Devil You Know story.
6/ DONNIE: Dorky rhythm guitarist and occasional keyboardist for Dead Celebrities. Painfully earnest and sweet. Has an unrequited crush on Jesse. Chronic nervous wreck but overcompensates with extreme friendliness. Overcaffeinated, sleep-deprived med school student. Part of the murder mystery story. Is Wiley’s little half-brother.
7/ EDDIE: Dead Celebrities’ drummer and casanova extraordinaire. Good with the business side of the band stuff. Gregarious, excitable, goofy personality. Really having fun with the whole rock-star persona thing. Think Jack Black type vibes. He’s also Cherry’s boyfriend. Part of the murder mystery story.
8/ RIOT: Part of a story partially connected to the murder mystery one. Goofy himbo glam metal party boy who don’t want nothin’ but a good time. Clinically oblivious.
9/ NICO: Perpetually anxious, poorly socialized shut-in with chronic illness and barely any exposure to the outside world. Craves a change of pace in the form of fame, but unfortunately a deal with a demon to gain said musical prowess resulting in said evil entity taking up partial residence in his body wasn’t the kind of shake-up he was wanting. Not to mention, the effects of acute demon possession have been taking a serious toll on his health… Part of the The Devil You Know story.
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