#ruby scarlet spring | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

comatosebunny09 · 5 months ago

Text

carpe noctem [ climax 2.0 ] | sylus

— summary: he takes you to a safe house. reasoned it was the safest option while his men tied up whatever loose ends remained from your mission. you get the feeling there’s more to his words than what floats at surface level. — cw: reader is not mc, reader implied to be femme, assassin!reader, profanity, sexual tension, minor character deaths, mentions of blood & violence, terms of endearment, self-deprecating thoughts, a sprinkle of romance, self-indulgent, unhinged moment, mdni — notes: special thanks to @alfredosaws for helping me write this. thank you so much for reading! — now playing: i follow rivers - lykke li

Silly woman. Getting your hopes up for nothing. Still...

He’s yet to set you down—Sylus. Your enigma of a boss, cradling you in his arms like an offering to be bestowed on an altar. Long fingers crooked under your knees, a possessive arm swept under your back.

You’re not hurt—he saw to that when he safely lured you to the ground with his Evol. So why does he insist on carrying you like you are?

You try not to get caught up in how he smells—petrichor during the spring. The leftover carbon of spent bullets. Suede and the freshly-broken skin of a clementine.

How he feels—strong yet firm, honed from years of boxing and a past you know little of. Tender despite the violence he’s capable of. Big and comforting, like a blanket fresh out of the dryer on the coldest days of the season.

How he breathes—even, as his heart thrums a steady tempo against your chest. Soothing like ocean waves rolling over your feet, lulling you into tranquility.

Tch. Since when did you become so poetic?

You’ve long since traded the cacophony of bullets ricocheting off his Evol—of Nikolai’s men shouting obscenities, bleeding malice and vitriol as they spit orders—for the serenity of the night.

Passersby mill about on the moon-laden streets. Couples laugh, bundling together to ward off the night’s chill. An occasional drunkard stumbles down the sidewalk. Sylus effortlessly sidesteps them, refusing to let you walk on your own despite the perturbed looks he garners. You try not to dig too deep into things. And yet…

He’s carried you like this for at least a mile through the city’s heart. Past historic buildings jaded by time, under twinkling string lights, hung over shopping centers and outdoor cafes bordering the street.

It’s something of a dream. Something like a romantic film, but you don’t feel like you deserve to be its star.

He’s made no move to set you down. You’ve also made no effort to untwine your arms from around his neck. Instead, you study the flexing tendons in his throat. The bob of his Adam’s apple when he chuckles something murky and guttural after he catches you staring. You look away with bashfulness creeping beneath your skin, only to repeat the ritual all over again.

It feels like old times—a memory far off when he carried you like this once before after you led him on a hunt through the docks. After you took down one of the most prominent human trafficking rings in the underworld, and after he thought he would lose you forever.

You’re sure you were heavy then—he spent most of the night searching for you, reducing anyone who got in his way to ash and bone. He was exhausted, violet bags hanging beneath his eyes, blood speckling his collar. Yet he still held you so tenderly. Walked you towards the horizon, clutching you like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

You’re sure you’re heavy now.

And he shouldn’t be holding you like this. Despite how delightful it feels, a voice admonishes you from the deepest regions of your mind for getting too comfortable.

He’s not yours. This isn’t right.

She might be gone, swept up in the mountains playing escort, but you can’t help feeling like you’re betraying the hunter. You’ve already crossed her so many times in your mind before.

You squirm a bit. His gaze slides to you. Scarlet eyes gleam beneath the tawny lights like multifaceted rubies. His brows lift slightly, and the beginnings of a smile prod his lips.

You clear the phlegm from your throat, tamping down the hot flush rising from your chest to stain your neck and cheeks. He’s effortlessly beautiful, like something spawned from a Rembrandt painting.

“You can put me down now,” you urge, your voice uncharacteristically soft. “I’m perfectly capable of walking by myself.”

He looks forward, wearing a full-bodied smile. “I know.” He continues walking like you didn’t speak, making no effort to let you go.

You give him a deadpan look. Try again, a little more insistent this time. “Sylus.”

“Yes?” he returns, humored, patient.

“I said you can put me down.”

“I know.”

You sigh, exasperated after a few moments spent glaring at his side profile. His devastatingly attractive profile. That sloped nose. Those heart-shaped lips. Those pretty, grey-fringed lashes.

“Aren’t you afraid of someone seeing us like this?” You gesture to your conjoined bodies with a nod. “People might get the wrong idea.”

You might get the wrong idea.

He huffs a laugh like you’ve said the most absurd thing. “When have I ever been concerned with how others perceive me?” Those softened eyes flick back to you, something cold prickling low in your belly at the weight they carry. At how his voice dips like he’s drawing you into a secret. “Since when have you?”

Your lips twitch. He poses a fair argument. You’ve never cared much about how people view you, save for Sylus and the twins. More recently, Ms. Hunter.

Guilt twists in your throat. Burns like ash. “Sylus…”

“Am I making you uncomfortable? Because if I am, I’d be happy to set you down.” There’s a beguiled edge to his voice. A challenge. A plea. Almost like he wants you to say, ‘No.’

Surely, you’re being delusional.

Regardless, you blanch. And it’s comical how quickly you shake your head, eliciting a thick, low purl of laughter from your savior. Your argument dies in the back of your throat. The drape of your arms around his shoulders slackens. But you still don’t let go. You don’t want to let go.

You decide she’ll have to be upset with you—Ms. Hunter. Decide to be a little selfish, but only for a little while. You’re growing too comfortable with the sharp click of his heels against the cobblestone. With how he lightly jostles you in his arms after each measured step. You could fall asleep like this, ushered to dreamland by the source of your fantasies and suffering.

After some time spent wordless, Sylus slows to a stop. When you glance at him, he nods at something ahead, finally setting you down. You’re bereft of the warmth and safety his body provides as he helps steady you. Smoothing out your dress, you take in your new surroundings.

A structure stretches before you, much like the ones you passed before, only the upkeep is better. Three stories of dark, historic brick and an awning dotted with sepia-toned lights loom overhead. The building's name scrolls on a marquee sign in its center, blaring through the frosty haze of the night. It reminds you of an old movie theater, repurposed for something more upscale.

You turn quizzical eyes to Sylus. “A restaurant?” Come to think of it, you are a little famished. Murder always manages to stir your appetite.

Sylus pushes back the tails of his suit jacket, shoving his hands into his pockets. Exhales slow. The spotlights highlight his smile as he looks between you and the entrance. “Not hungry?”

“Yeah, but…it’s a little short notice, isn’t it? Don’t you normally need a reservation to get into places like this? Will they even let us in?”

With a huff caught in his throat, Sylus brushes past you, bounding up the few steps to tug the door open. A swell of noise spills outside, the soft stroke of piano keys, the clatter of cutlery against plates. The savory scent of cooked meat and sautéed vegetables assaults your senses. Your stomach growls. You pat it placatingly, casting Sylus a wary look.

“They should,” he says with a shrug, patiently waiting for you to enter. “I own the place.” His eyes shine with playfulness, posture lax.

You scoff. Of course. He owns half the city. It makes him more attractive, knowing he can buy anything at the drop of a hat.

“Wow. That’s awfully Bruce Wayne of you, don’t you think?” you mock, stepping up into the restaurant, guided by your fingers wrapped around his forearm.

“Wait,” you start, inadvertently tucking into his side. “Why are you hungry? I’m the one who did all the heavy lifting.”

Sylus shrugs again, feigning innocence as you clear the restaurant's entryway. “Watching you work always makes me peckish.”

You whack his broad chest, rolling your eyes. Can’t help smiling. Giggling. Letting your defenses waver.

The air between you feels lighter, reminiscent of times spent carelessly flirting when the line between employer and subordinate blurred beyond recognition.

—

It’s lively inside, but not overwhelmingly so.

Colorful conversation brightens the atmosphere around you. Patrons of new and old money, dressed in designer clothing, sip expensive wine. Prattle on about their reckless ventures, about fickle things you can’t be bothered to entertain.

It’s a high-brow restaurant, with the gentle croon of live music and light fixtures dangling overhead to simulate candlelight. The interior is Art Deco inspired. Jaw-droppingly beautiful. You’ve found yourself eyeing the bar more than once, impressed by the expansive shelves housing vintage wine and spirits, stretching towards a yawning, stained-glass ceiling.

Had you not known better, you would’ve thought you were on a date and not lying low while ornery men tore the city apart looking for you. But that’s not the case.

At least, you don’t think it is.

You bite down on your fork, bleeding warmth, ignoring the scarlet eyes boring into your face for the umpteenth time.

You’re tucked away in one of the restaurant's corners with your boss, seated at a booth, shying away from the spotlight. Away from the prying eyes of the other patrons, though that doesn’t stop the occasional gaze from wandering over you. Curious clients raise their wine glasses at you with tense smiles, scrutinizing the pair of you as if you’re celebrities.

You do stand out, still donned in your attire from the banquet. And Sylus commands attention wherever he goes, standing a good foot over most of the populous, his hair a riotous shock of white.

Also more perplexing is that he hasn’t booked the place out. He prefers solitude, the comfortable quiet. And yet, he’s brought you here, surrounded by people, treating you like something to be shown off, and you're lightheaded from the whiplash he’s giving you.

He’s been nothing short of a gentleman. Pulled your chair out for you, ordered on your behalf, ensnared you in idle conversation. Kept your champagne glass full when your waiter was out of earshot, even lauded you for another successful kill. It’s all so uncharacteristic of him, and you can’t help feeling like he’s building up to something big.

It’s grown quiet between you since your meals arrived, and your thoughts have crept in, robbing you of any bliss you began to experience.

You’ve caught your boss watching you several times. And he’s never appeared guilty, shamelessly peering into your eyes, smiling, slowly ticking away at your resolve.

Your skin prickles with warmth as you push around the vegetables on your plate. The meal is lovely. Savory, but your appetite’s abandoned you. Something’s off. You’ve sensed it for the better part of the night. Sylus is being more attentive than usual, and it’s unsettling.

What’s his angle? Have you offended him? Is he keeping an eye on you, afraid you’ll run away? Will tonight be the night he lays you off?

You decide to confront him, having had enough of this ambiguity. This farce he’s put up. You clear your throat, smoothing out the napkin on your lap. Set your fork down, gaze hesitantly sliding to him across the table as you attempt to make light of your situation.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that? Is there something on my face?”

Sylus’ eyes crinkle with a quiet mirth. A soft youthfulness as he props his elbows on the table, twining his long fingers together. A grin blooms behind his fists. You hold your breath.

“Has anyone ever told you how adorable you are while you eat?”

You choke on your spittle. Violently pat your chest to dislodge it, reaching for your flute of champagne to wet your throat as tears form. Adorable isn’t something you’d use to describe yourself. And adorable isn’t something you’d ever imagine Sylus classifying you as, either.

“Maybe you should lay off the champagne,” you cough, the burn in your esophagus subsiding.

He isn’t much of a drinker, so you suspect he’s spewing nonsense because he’s tipsy. You set your glass down, snatching the bottle of bubbly from the table’s center. It’ll be safer on your side, out of reach, where your boss can’t use it as an excuse to utter more absurd things.

Sylus’ brows knit, mock hurt descending onto his face. “What? Am I not allowed to compliment you?”

You cough again, bringing the bottle to your lips. Drink straight from the source, crisp liquid drizzling down the sides of your mouth. How ladylike.

Maybe you should stop drinking. You’re starting to hear things, your daydreams coming to fruition. This isn’t happening. Your boss isn’t pouting at you like a child, calling you cute, and making you feel things that should be buried beneath the Earth’s crust. He’s typically stingy with his compliments unless given to a specific person. So why suddenly aim them at you?

The bubbly’s got your head a little fuzzy. That, coupled with the adrenaline slowly seeping into your veins, emboldens you to get to the heart of his strangeness. You decide to poke the proverbial bear.

“What’s your problem?” you prod, setting the bottle down with a definitive thunk. You fix him with a look, one of tight lips and furrowed brows.

Sylus chuckles, seemingly in disbelief at your brazenness. He’s fucking with you. He has to be. Maybe he’s trying to get a rise out of you, sensing how vulnerable you’ve felt throughout the night. How vulnerable you’ve been the past few months.

“Whatever do you mean, sweetheart?”

You ignore how the term of endearment tingles in your skin. It feels more weighted than usual tonight. Everything’s heavier tonight.

You sigh, looking at your lap with a forlorn smile. Toy with a loose thread on your napkin, steeling yourself for this unavoidable conversation.

The champagne’s got your tongue a little loose, and the people surrounding you give you a boost of courage—witnesses in case Sylus decides to kill you.

“You’ve been really nice to me all night.” You sound mousy, contrasting the crass asshole you were moments ago. “It’s kind of…weird.”

A silver brow lifts. Sylus adjusts in his chair, leaning closer to hear you better, the faint note of his cologne wafting off his skin. Threatening to derail you. To change your mind.

“Have I not been kind to you before?” He momentarily scrutinizes the lacquered wood of the tabletop, seemingly lost in thought. Gazes back at you, inspecting your face.

You swallow against the sandy grit of your throat, powering past your nerves, an anxious titter on your tongue. You toy with your necklace, dizzy. “No. No, you have. Just…not like this.”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. Sylus wordlessly encourages you to continue, watching your mouth, your eyes.

“I mean, the gala. Rescuing me from Nikolai’s goons. Carrying me. Dinner. The compliments. I don’t get you, Sylus. One minute, you’re pushing me away. You’re ignoring me, and then the next, you’re…confusing the hell out of me.”

The words are out before you can contain them. Silence stretches between you, stiff like a bowstring drawn back. You can’t look at him now, feeling so small and stupid beneath the blistering weight of his stare.

You’re disbelieving that he could be so kind. Romantic. Considerate, treating you like something closer than a subordinate. Like he doesn’t have someone else occupying his mind, and you’re wondering if he’s playing some twisted game with your emotions tonight, using you to fill the gap the hunter left while out saving the world.

“Am I truly that difficult to understand?” he replies, his voice gritty yet soft.

Something pinches in your chest at the fragility of his tone. You want nothing more than for the world to open up and swallow you whole.

You flinch when the flat sides of his nails graze your temple. He briefly stops before tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. Then, his fingertips blister down your cheek. He tilts your head back, cupping your chin, coaxing you to look at him. And you do, reluctantly, a warm film of something wet washing over your sight.

He studies you with a reverence you don’t deserve. A look you haven’t been subjected to in a very long time, yet it still manages to constrict your heart. Still makes your stomach jump like you’re descending downhill, and your lips part slightly, quivering.

Time slows to a crawl around you, the world seemingly carving out a pocket of space for only the two of you to exist. The sights and sounds of the restaurant fade into obscurity. You’re focused solely on the scarlet wash of his eyes, how they shift back and forth, studying your features, searching. Seeking answers your mouth refuses to utter.

“If I’ve made myself anything less than transparent, I apologize.” The sincerity there, the quiet vulnerability, it makes you sick because you’re undeserving of it. You feel like you’re taking part in a naughty secret. Witnessing a side of him usually reserved for the hunter. “But I assure you, I’m not as mysterious as you think.”

You snort despite the moment. Despite your pulse thudding in your eardrums, a trickle of optimism seeping through you like molten liquid. You don that arrogant, playful front as if rolling over and showing him your belly will be viewed as a sign of weakness. He could still very well be screwing with you. Getting your hopes up to shatter them like waves breaking against the rocks.

“Yeah, right. And I’m the Queen of England,” you retort, rolling your eyes.

Sylus shrugs, resigned. Still, he doesn’t relinquish your gaze, the soft curl of his fingers around your face. Instead, he grows more tender, his irises twinkling a youthful shade beneath the ambient lighting as he leans closer. His voice is wispy like he’s murmuring something confidential.

“You don’t have to believe me. But I am no liar, sweetheart. You know that.”

With that, he releases your chin, fingers slowly dragging over your face, leaving a searing path in their wake. You breathe again, unaware you weren’t, as if released from a spell. You watch him take up his champagne flute, slender fingers curling around its stem, and he stirs its fizzy contents.

You’re jealous of that damn glass, still feeling those ruinous digits burning themselves into your skin.

He decides to shift gears. You’re thankful because you need time to process things. To get your heart rate down from the sky.

“Besides, you looked like you could use a break. I figured tonight would be a good time for some morale boosting.”

You snort again, sipping from your own flute to assuage a flare of anger. “Me? A break? Morale boost? Yeah, sure.”

Taking a breather with your boss, playing around on a date like you didn’t just murder someone? Was he serious? And is that all this was? A figurative pizza party to say, ‘Thank you’ for being an obedient little pet?

You knew you were an idiot, getting your hopes up for nothing.

“You know, contrary to popular belief, I’m not as much of a slave driver as you think,” he says, parting the tumultuous sea of your thoughts.

“Really? Luke and Kieran might say otherwise.” There’s more vitriol in your voice than you intend to let out. But you’re deflecting, protecting yourself.

Your chest tightens when Sylus looks down, idly twisting the glass stem between his fingers. His gaze softens, and something in his voice shifts. “Can’t I just spend some time alone with you? Show you how much I appreciate you for being loyal to me all these years?”

You stiffen, feeling like someone’s thrust a knife into your gut and twisted it. You must not have heard him right. For a moment, he sounded exposed. Wounded. And for a moment, you feel bad for doubting his intentions.

You’re about to pursue it when your waiter reappears. He’s all smiles and professionalism as he sets two martini glasses on your table, crystalline liquid swirling ominously inside.

You look up at him with quirked brows. He stands in good form, folding his hands together behind his back.

“Courtesy of the couple over there,” says your waiter, gesturing over his shoulder with a nod.

You peer behind him. A middle-aged man and a younger-looking woman dressed in eccentric textures smile and wave enthusiastically at you. You lift your glass to them in a quiet toast, pasting on a smile. The gesture is sweet, but what’s the occasion?

“They said, drinks for the lovely couple, and congratulations on celebrating your anniversary.”

You sputter, sending drops of your martini flying every which way.

Sylus laughs at your plight, taking up a glass for himself and lifting it in appreciation towards the couple. You glare at him as he sips.

“Happy Anniversary, darling,” Sylus teases. Winks for added effect. He laughs a wealthy man’s laugh while you choke.

You contemplate correcting the generous couple, but the martini is delicious. And Sylus doesn’t seem affected by it.

And maybe it feels good pretending that, just for a moment, he’s yours and yours alone.

—

Someone had a sweet tooth following dinner.

That someone, of course, being you.

The dessert menu at the restaurant looked appetizing. But you had a craving for something cold. Soft-serve. Besides, you were growing uncomfortable the more that couple ordered you drinks. At one point, they’d been so bold as to stop by your table on their way out.

They kept ogling you. Winking, laughing drunkenly, spewing out their hotel room number upstairs. When they left, you leaned over the table, cupping your hand around your mouth.

“I think they’re swingers,” you whispered to Sylus.

He laughed, sitting back. Raised his glass to you, a brow tilting up to match the cant of his lips. “Wanna go find out?”

“Hell no! I’m a one-partner kinda gal.”

You didn’t miss how his gaze shifted. Darkened into something you couldn’t quite place.

You find yourselves in a 1950s-inspired diner— a modest hole-in-the-wall joint with retro decor and bright lights. Only a couple of other diners inhabit the restaurant. You’re nursing a milkshake, courtesy of your boss, buzzing like a child who’s gotten everything they wanted.

He teased you about your cravings—only you’d want ice cream when it’s cold out. But he didn’t put up much of a fight, humoring you after you wore him down with those puppy eyes and your fingers buried in his sleeves.

He entertained you further by playing the claw machine in the corner at your behest. Watching a man so big, feared, and elusive fiddle with such a garish machine—you felt honored.

You cheered him on, the sleeves of his jacket draped over your shoulders, puddling around your elbows. After several attempts, he was successful, sheepishly shoving a purple koala bear into your hands. Your face burned hot, and your cheeks ached from smiling and laughing.

It feels like a dream. The ideal date. And for a moment, you forget that Sylus is your boss. That he could never be yours and that you’re anything but a killer.

You fiddle with the jukebox, earning curious glances from the diner’s other customers. They’re whispering things, eyeing you warily. You ignore them, queuing up a song. And you’re dancing, silly at first, but muscle memory kicks in. Soon, you’re moving your hips, smoothing over the contours of your body, spurred by Sylus observing you from his place atop a stool.

You wish he would smile more—an authentic smile, unhindered by sarcasm or smugness. He’s much more handsome like this.

You think about all the times he’s smiled this way for the hunter, and you stumble in your steps. You flash him a smile when it looks like he’ll get up to help you. Carry on dancing, doing one of the things you do best.

You pretend you’re at Lux, and he makes you feel like you’re on a stage just for him, your nerves flaring at his attention. There’s a gleam in his eyes as he leans back on the countertop on his elbow, watching you with muted appreciation. How long has it been since you’ve danced for him?

So swept up by the music, you hardly register the diner slowly emptying. Not even the servers seem to be bustling about anymore. You get an ominous prickling sensation on the back of your neck, the fine hairs there standing stiff. You stop.

You exchange a look with Sylus. He raises a brow, tapping his temple. “Keep going,” he rasps, doting, coaxing. Entranced.

He has whatever’s about to transpire under control. You trust him fully. The Bonnie to his Clyde.

The wispy tendrils of his Evol materialize around the diner’s interior to form a barrier, tossing the restaurant into a misty haze of red and black. It’s reminiscent of hellfire, and you feel like Lilith taking part in a sacrilegious waltz.

He doesn’t take his eyes off you, attentive as you continue to dance. And you smile, putting on a damn good show as Nikolai’s men funnel in, their cries of agony tempered by the music spilling from the jukebox and your laughter coloring the air as Sylus rends flesh from bone with his Evol.

—

He takes you to a safe house as the night reaches its peak.

He reasoned it was the safest option while his men tied up whatever loose ends remained from your mission. Like dining and holding hands out in public didn’t warrant an ambush.

Someone snitched. Saw that familiar riot of white, those brawny shoulders. Heard that gritty voice mixed with your distinct laughter and sent Nikolai’s men to finish you off. Sylus picked them off while you danced unhindered, but there was no telling how many stragglers were left, ducking into the shadows, creeping along the historic brick walls.

Again, he insists on carrying you as you break through the door of a quaint, quiet home perched on a hilltop. Secured by his biometrics. Bordered by evergreens and the calming symphony of the forest. Isolated, like him. Hidden from invasive questions, from prying eyes.

You’re tired. The night’s adrenaline sloughed off, leaving you tenuous and agreeable, which is why you don’t put up much of a fight as Sylus walks you through the foyer, smiling down at you like you’re his precious bounty. It’s infectious. Your lips tug, too, though a little less enthused. You blink slowly. Breathe evenly, lulled by the mollifying thump of his heart against your cheek.

He drops your stilettos on the hardwood floor halfway to the living room. Deposits you on a dark leather settee, fixing your dress over your legs and his jacket around your shoulders. Draws back. Your chest tightens. You don’t know what hits you when your fingers close around the pleated sleeve of his button-up, eyes beseeching when he looks at you from over his shoulder.

You don’t say anything. Don’t have to.

Don’t leave. Stay.

You don’t want the dream to end. Not yet.

He chuckles low, all smooth like whisky poured into a glass. Softened, scarlet eyes pan in through the low light, his silhouette haloed by amber. He lifts your legs to settle onto the upholstery beside you. Pulls your feet onto his lap. They’re irritated. Rubbed raw from being strapped to too-tall heels all night, running and gunning like you had no limitations.

He sensed your discomfort. Always such a gentleman.

Large, sweltering hands close around your feet, kneading through pressure and knots of tension. Knuckles at the balls of your feet. You exhale slowly, pleased. Thankful. The attention’s nice. There’s a small voice wading through the murky sea of your mind, telling you this is wrong. That you don’t deserve it, his tenderness.

You’re getting pretty fucking sick of your conscience. It’s just a foot rub. It’s not like you’re kissing him.

“You’re good at this,” you note offhandedly.

“My hands are more useful than you think.”

Something dark threads through his voice. Something cheeky. You ignore how your stomach flips, your mind sparkling with impure ideas.

Drowsiness sweeps in around the corners, bordering your vision like a vignette. He’s masterful with his hands. You wouldn’t expect anything less from the king of the underworld. You doze off, shepherded through the inkiness by the faraway tick of a clock. By trees rustling beyond the massive window, the moon dragging itself to the center of the sky, cloth moving as Sylus rubs over your calves.

You stir when he shifts. When he moves to get up and lay your legs on the couch. That feeling returns. That ache. The call of loneliness. Your sleepiness abandons you, making way for cold fright. You stumble from the settee. Rush to stand at full height, gripping his shirt at the crooks of his elbows, halting him.

Your mouth opens. Heart thundering. You don’t know what to say—what you were thinking. His gaze is unyielding, studying your face like the slow flicker of a flame. Silver brows knot. Peach lips fall slightly open. He’s waiting for something. Asking for something.

You’re on autopilot when you cautiously angle yourself closer. Your gaze falls to his mouth, and he mirrors you, cradling your elbows as if he’s afraid to break you. You’ll blame it on the bubbly you consumed later. On the spell he somehow cast over the night, enthralling you with his chivalry.

You tug, and he meets you halfway. Not like you have to put in much effort. He’s already leaning down. Eyes already half-moons, breath already shaky.

He tenses when your lips meet. Shoulders drop once the initial shock peters, and then he’s kissing you with those full, molten lips. He draws you closer, hands splayed possessively at the small of your back. Thumbs cruising over the meat of your hips. Up and down your sides. Wherever he touches, you burn.

You exhale through your nose, and your arms snake around his neck. Fingers sift through the fine hairs at his nape.

He teases your mouth open with his tongue. Sighs something anguished when you grant him entry, licking into your mouth. Pulls you impossibly closer. He’s rigid and warm against you. Gathers your cheek in his palm, angling your head back. He kisses greedy. Selfish. Plunders your mouth, milking the sweetest little sounds from your body. Sounds you didn’t think yourself capable of making.

You kiss and kiss until your lips are chaffed. And even then, you don’t stop. He’s ravenous, moving against you like he’s waited eons to do this. Like he’s fought a war with himself and lost. You’re his Gettysburg. His Kryptonite.

You’ll feel sorry for yourself tomorrow. Blame it on the air, charged with something heady, your inhibitions and common sense thrown to the wolves.

It’s just a kiss. He’s your boss. And tonight, he’s been something of a friend. A dream. Friends kiss all the time, right?

So why do you feel so guilty?

— tags: @emneedshelp, @reiofsuns2001, @crazy-ink-artist, @vonev, @subliminalwish, @ikiru-wa, @inkonparchment, @regandoesthings, @szired, @alyyylog, @leekingsman, @beewilko, @an-ever-angry-bi, @abbylee0710, @sunnyf4lls, @himiko-omikami, @midiplier, @ari-shipping-stuff, @karespocketboyfriends, @glamouroki, @babygirl-panda19, @im-in-different-universe, @sillyfreakfanparty, @lunebulous, @vilehrs-blog (sorry if i missed anyone.)

climax | masterlist | falling action

#sylus x reader #sylus x you #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #qin che #sylus love and deepspace #sylus qin #sylus angst #carpe noctem series #limerence series

1K notes · View notes

chow0w · 20 days ago

Note

I’d honestly love to see your take on fashion for all of the tribes! I always love seeing world-building in the fork of fashion!

Thank you so much!! I'm trying to branch out and tie fashion in with lore/culture - I genuinely lost the plot with this one but you have to walk with me like WALK with me right now. come here.

Scarlet and the Skywings: A discussion on fashion, politics and culture

About this image: Queen Scarlet crawls out of her own self-portrait, looking down at Tourmaline and the Skywings in fury. She does not notice the Guillotine above her or the fire below her, focused only on her daughter who looks up in defiance. The words 'Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité' are repeated in the background, and Tourmaline's wings are drawn to look like rays of sun.

Setting the scene - Skywings and the French

I won't pretend to know the Skywing kingdom inside out, but tailwind's section in guide to the tribes gives good insight to the kingdom's situation during Scarlet/Firestorm's reign. the extract suggests that the Skywing kingdom was an economically thriving center for the arts, as well as a kingdom which followed some semblance of an aristocracy with noble families and an upper/lower class divide - similar to the situation of pre-revolution France.

We must also consider the scope of how bad things actually were before/during Queen Scarlet's reign. Social class is never directly mentioned in canon, but it could easily be reasoned (from her + Queen Firestorm's behavior) that Scarlet's rule created tons of problems for the kingdom's commoner. between fighting 20 years of sandwing succession war, uprooting major cultural practices and dumping heinous amounts of money into self-portraits, it's safe to say Scarlet and her mother were probably the two worst things that could ever happen to the average working Skywing. Like this is the Queen who threw Osprey (A public figure old enough to be long loved) into a ravine for... teaching Peril the law.

Starved of kingdom funding, ripped from their culture and sent off to die in a sandwing war, I really feel that the Skywings deserved to crash out French style on their high society.

(That's not to say that I dislike the canon plot of the kingdom: in fact, I think it's good - it completes its duty as a plot device and still manages to make sense and be cool. If I was Tui, I would absolutely call it a day there. Lucky for me, I'm a tumblr artist and not a bestselling author. I get to write about violent revolutions.)

The revised timeline

Given the context on why I think the Skywings needed a good revolution, here's how I personally would've structured the timeline after Scarlet's rule, including the events of Escaping Peril. If you haven't read that book, I suggest skipping down to the next image.

Scarlet comes into power. Bad things happen to everyone. Skywings are pissed for 20 years, but between the war, economic issue and the fire demon (Peril) nobody really has the energy to revolt. They stay quietly angry, and (perhaps) form something similar to the chrysalis.

One day, the dragonets of destiny arrive - something happens in the arena and the tyrant is gone. The kingdom sits in aftershock for a moment, before springing into gleeful celebration. The real bloodbath is never for Scarlet - presumed to be dead or missing, they turn to the Skywing nobles who supported her instead. The WoF wiki states Skywings enjoy entertainment and fighting alike, so I like to think their last gritty celebration of freedom was making the (oppressive) aristocracy their last arena victims. Dragons like Tailwind (born into nobility but low-lying or unsupportive) were probably spared.

Queen Ruby is elected to be the new skywing ruler by default - some Skywings may feel hesitant or reluctant to have Scarlet's daughter in power, but tradition + scares of another sandwing-type war keep them from kicking her out. She does a great job, so it doesn't matter anyways and they love her.

Scarlet comes back in Escaping Peril, and for a brief moment the kingdom is turned upside down. Stories spread like wildfire, and the Skywing population are ignited with a new sense of rage at their old Queen's return. At this point, I don't even think Peril's presence would be able to stop riots and uprise on the streets.

Ruby challenges Scarlet and the canon ending happens, or Peril (somehow) realizes Ruby is Tourmaline another way and the fight can be avoided altogether. Instead, the nature of Tourmaline's erasure (using animus magic, changing her identity) is so offensively un-Skywing that the population snaps and jump Scarlet together, right then and there. She dies like Scar from the lion king.

Back to the fashion - high society

Plot lost, plot recovered. I will talk about fashion now - starting with that of the aristocracy (specifically during Scarlet and Firestorm's reign.)

Extravagant garments crown the nature of upper-class fashion: big bows, long dresses, feathered headpieces and fur wigs are what make you well-dressed here. Curiously, upper-class Skywing attire is not very Skywing at all: imports are in, tradition is out! The dragons of the aristocracy order pearls from the sea, pelts from the north and the finest tailors to put it together. As the sandwing succession war starts, trade deals are interrupted and these garments become rarer: more valuable.

Function and Logistics

These garments are generally viewed as unisex, with the urge to be best dressed outcompeting the urge to have gendered clothing within society. Most of them have intricate mechanical makeup, which is a landmark to the Skywings and their long history of design. Copper wires braided together are bent to form skirt cages, and headdresses are fashioned in place using a complicated network of leather bands and iron clips. Putting these outfits on would undoubtedly require a team of assistants: maids clip the headdress in place while tailors edit the radius of the skirt cage, fixing it in place with a small plume of flame. The final result is a splendorous, inconvenient piece of clothing meant to show your wealth and absolutely nothing else. I imagine that flying is near impossible with these garments (or - one can fly, at the expense of their gown) so most dressing and undressing is done within palace walls.

Queen Scarlet and her mother, obsessed with beauty, would likely uphold these garments as a uniform standard within balls and celebrations. Skywings were expected to look as best as they could, with absolutely no exceptions and a very deadly consequence for disobedience. Fashion is always, in some aspect, political; seeing this type of needless extravagance as a working-class Skywing would've undoubtedly sparked anger, and I'm sure the French revolutionaries would agree.

Clothing for the Skywings: past and present

As it tends to, the fashion of the elites will bleed into the world around it - and with the removal of their culture and tradition, the Skywings of the kingdom would most likely follow suit in how they dressed themselves - abandoning traditional garb in fear of Queen Scarlet, and adopting new fashion trends.

These trends would include simplified, practical versions of High-class clothing: petticoats and puff sleeves replace pearl necklaces, fitting in with societal expectations while still being functional. These coats could be used to store day-to-day necessities like gold coins, trinkets or herbal medicines, with the sleeves made from thinly stretched fabric. Some Skywings may choose to embroider their coats and shirts, or even wear a hat - a slightly impractical item which could be used to flaunt one's financial security. While this fashion is nice, I'm sure lots of Skywings would be old enough to remember their traditional wear: some may even have it in their home, tucked away in the attic with other relics of home.

I imagine these garments were much more fluid in shape: made to be beautiful and flyable, they consisted of long fabrics trailing down from the base of one's neck, made from local materials found on the mountain - feathers, wool, flower dyes etc. The clothes themselves were beautifully detailed through pattern, not shape: beads, embroidery and stitching could be used to create a high-class garment, which would be used during weddings or balls. Some hats may have also been present, although these would still be largely difficult to fly with. These clothes probably returned as the Skywing kingdom began to heal, alongside the old traditions buried under tyranny.

When sketching these garments, I looked to traditional Kazakh clothing for inspiration, as both cultures share their mountainous location and use of local material. I understand that Kazakh and French clothing are different fashions from wildly different cultures, and the only reason this really works is because I'm writing in the context of fictional dragon world and not real human world. I considered keeping the fashion solely French, but honestly they're both so beautiful I had to include Kazakh clothing too!

Choosing which cultures to investigate is always the hardest part about making these posts, and so I'm trying to incorporate a lot of diversity as I plan - and maybe even explore one tribe in the lens of multiple cultures.

If you made it all the way down here, thank you so much for reading along! Writing about lore and culture is SO fun, and I really appreciate all of you who've inquired about fashion/culture within the other tribes! These posts take a little bit longer to make, so I'm aiming for one a week but we'll see. To anyone interested, my art contest is still going until the end of June! If you're a regular on this blog you will have heard this too often and want to jump me, but please have mercy.

You can find more info and enter here, in my discord server!

later ヾ(`ヘ´)ﾉﾞ

#wings of fire #wof #art #character design #wof redesign #wof headcannon #wof skywings #skywings wof #wof queen scarlet #queen scarlet #queen scarlet wof #queen firestorm wof #tailwind wof #wof fashion #wof tribe

513 notes · View notes

seaglasswrites · 3 days ago

Text

Shades of

Red

Crimson, Carmine, Blood, Apple, Pomegranate, Cardinal, Poppy, Rose, Ruby, Scarlet, Maroon, Wine, Garnet, Brick, Cherry, Cranberry, Strawberry, Spinel

Orange

Carrot, Tangerine, Topaz, Amber, Apricot, Pumpkin, Ginger, Rust, Flame, Persimmon, Sunset, Lava, Autumn, Maple, Mango, Bronze, Copper

Yellow

Gold, Lemon, Canary, Honey, Squash, Saffron, Citrine, Flax, Corn, Sunflower, Mustard, Daffodil, Sunny, Pineapple, Marigold, Topaz, Sandstone, Summer

Green

Leaf, Emerald, Grass, Jade, Clover, Fern, Lime, Apple, Juniper, Spring, Mint, Pistachio, Pickle, Chartreuse, Sage, Olive, Shamrock, Sea, Pear, Pine, Forest, Hunter, Tea, Malachite

Blue

Sky, Midnight, Sapphire, Cobalt, Azure, Cerulean, Cyan, Turquoise, Electric, Navy, Royal, Robin’s Egg, Cornflower, Lapis, Arctic, Blueberry, Peacock, Ocean, River, Aquamarine, Diamond, Moonstone

Purple

Amethyst, Lavender, Eggplant, Royal, Plum, Lilac, Hyacinth, Grape, Hydrangea, Violet, Indigo, Orchid, Yam, Ube, Iris, Mulberry, Mauve, Heather, Midnight, Wisteria, Tyrian, Charoite

Pink

Bubblegum, Flamingo, Hot, Cherry Blossom, Coral, Magenta, Rose, Fuchsia, Salmon, Raspberry, Candy, Peach, Spinel, Rose Quartz, Peony, Azalea, Orchid, Pitaya, Himalayan

91 notes · View notes

lindagoesmushrooming · 1 year ago

Text

Scarlet Elf Cups (Sarcoscypha coccinea) and Ruby Elf Cups (Sarcoscypha austriaca) (indistinguishable without microscopy) are one of the few Spring mushrooms that are also edible. They have a mild taste (when overcooked, can become flavourless). They can be gently pan-fried in a little oil/ butter or used in a stew, and they make a nice addition to pasta and rice dishes, or fried eggs.

If you're out looking for them, Elf Cups enjoy wet, muddy places (often close to a stream), and they grow on fallen twigs, rotting wood, under dead leaves but can be easily spotted because of their bright red color.

#Sarcoscypha austriaca #scarlet elf cup #edible mushrooms #mushrooms #fungi #forest floor #mycology #food #info #nature photography #forestcore #foraging #ruby elf cup #sarcoscypha coccinea #some say you can eat them raw but I personally haven't tried it

187 notes · View notes

zazter-den · 2 years ago

Text

Stained Glass Circumstances

Series: Current, Snippet 2, Ch. 1 Foul-Mouthed Frit

Synopsis- Captain Kirishima appreciates the overlooked beauty of glass.

Warnings- Servant Dynamics, Concubine Dynamics, Suggestive Themes.

Tags- Less explicit prologue, No Sex, Fantasy AU, Dragon!Kirishima, Consort!Reader, Brief BarbarianKing!Bakugou, Black Haired Reader.

Word Count- 400 word Prologue I

"Oi, Kirishima!" The barbarian king barked with his usual arrogant tone, ordering the loyal captain to escort his newest concubine to the hot springs to wash. Kirishima's slit pupils landed on your exhausted form, sprawled on Bakugou's dark blankets and furs like a masterpiece displayed on an ebony canvas.

Despite the fatigue radiating from your body, Kirishima couldn't help but find you captivating. The crystalline horns jutting from your hairline were of a clear quartz, an odd hue even for a dragon hybrid. Facets refracted rainbows on your black curls and the surrounding obsidian fabric, the beams of color dancing with each ragged breath you took. Captain Kirishima, having a ruby pair of his own, doesn't see how anyone could find your glass-like horns plain.

He had laughed, thinking his friend was surely joking when the rowdy regent had called you the “extra” consort he found. Claiming you on a whim.

Though he tried to dismiss his lingering thoughts and desires, Kirishima couldn't fully resist your allure. Despite their current roles—one as King Bakugou's concubine and the other as his trusted captain of his guard—Kirishima carried a deep...affection for you. One that couldn't easily be brushed aside. Gods know, he tried.

Captain Kirishima unbuckled the clasps of his scarlet cloak, the vibrant color signifying the high rank he fought tooth and claw for, and the fabric slipped from his broad shoulders. The thick ornate clothe was gentle against your skin, offering warmth and protection. He carefully wrapped your naked curves, shielding you from any prying eyes that may be present as he made his way to the baths outside the borders of the courtyard.

With gentle strength, Kirishima lifted your sleepy form into his arms, holding you as if the most delicate treasure. The weight of your body pressed against his chest, bodies fitting together in a way that felt natural. Intimate. He was lucky the tyrant's attention was long lost to the battle plans on his desk.

Then again, most servants ceased to exist in Bakugou's mind the moment he no longer had a need for them.

He held you close, cherishing the friendship he had formed with you over the past fortnight or so. Kirishima carried you out of King Bakugou's chambers, your head tucked into his chest as you continued to doze, and moved into the quiet hallways. The flickering torches along the walls cast a soft, warm glow. Their light danced upon the horns peaking out of your ebony hair, creating a mesmerizing display of color on your dark curls and his polished armor.

Stained Glass, Kirishima realized with a soft grin, that's what your horns reminded him of.

Comment/Reblog for more of this series!

#Already got half a hot spring scene written (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡#zaz drabbles #minors dni #Dividers by the hard working @CafeKitsune #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima x reader #dragon kirishima #dragon!kirishima #bnha fantasy au #mha fantasy au #dragon reader #dragon!reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #stained glass circumstances series

168 notes · View notes

bsd-fwap · 16 days ago

Text

𝙱𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚘𝚞 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚢 𝙳𝚘𝚐𝚜 - 【𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚆𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙰 𝙿𝚊𝚐𝚎】

By: Halloween_Neko

Within The Book, there are multiple worlds, each with a different story to tell.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/series/3787564

Welcome to the 【𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚆𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙰 𝙿𝚊𝚐𝚎】 series! The main work of this series is through the looking glass (broken mirror, echoed images), portraying the event of canon!Atsushi got hit by an ability that replaced him with a bunch of AU!Atsushi. Other works of this series are mainly to expand the other worlds of the AU!Atsushis that appear in through the looking glass (broken mirror, echoed images).

You can ask me more about each AU!Atsushi and the AU which they come from on this Tumblr page.

section 1 - the book

the other me (whom you met in a dream) - The very first part of this series, portraying my theory about Atsushi, The Book, and their connection.

section 2 - looking mirror

through the looking glass (broken mirror, echoed images) - A multi-chapter fic where an ability replaces canon!Atsushi with a bunch of AU!Atsushi, causing everything to go haywire. Set after Cannibalism and at the start of Decay of Angels saga.

kaleidoscope of a certain weretiger (into the pages) - An index about all versions of AU!Atsushi in my collection. It also includes spoilers for through the looking glass (broken mirror, echoed images) and most later fics of this series.

snippets between the pages (a moment within the book) - A collection of snippets of moments of Shin Soukoku that happened between the worlds within The Book.

section 3 - into the pages

the ghost of an old time (of river and bandages) - An adventure of canon!Dazai into the world of teal!Atsushi, set before the event of through the looking glass (broken mirror, echoed images).

there are no bandages on me (to mourn the death of a stranger) - The world of teal!Atsushi, the ghost of yokohama from the divergence point up to Atsushi’s 18th birthday.

diary of a dream (let me sleep, and wake me up) - The world of chartreuse!Atsushi, the dreamer in ordinary world.

❖ atsushi au counter ❖ 50/50 ❖

colorless - the original | the 0;3 !;2!÷3

gold - the librarian of time

silver - the unnamed writer

grey - the white reaper

white - the fallen angel

black - the broken doll

raven - the feather keeper

cream - the beholder under moonlight

beige - the wanderer in the lost era

brown - the helper of the doll maker

maroon - the puppy waiter

carmine - the caged beast

crimson - the exterminator of the unseen

scarlet - the lament of unliving

ruby - the companion within the spiderweb

red - the discipline of qilin

vermilion - the attorney of autumn

orange - the little sheep prince

amber - the hardworking bartender

alloy - the mechanic of tower

dandelion - the magician from the west

yellow - the rising star

butter - the baker analogy

lemon - the researcher above life

chartreuse - the dreamer in ordinary world

lime - the hikikomori artist

green - the apprentice detective

jade - the swordmaster from the east

mint - the child of the island

teal - the ghost of yokohama

cerulean - the frozen sacrifice of a god

aqua - the runaway sailor

cyan - the aimless snow

azure - the farmer of summer

blue - the blue lizard

navy - the hatless assassin

indigo - the thief of the scenario

periwinkle - the soundless ninja

iris - the traveler beyond death

purple - the nurse in training

violet - the herring of two

lavender - the musician of winter

lilac - the heir of three

orchid - the clergy in solitude

pink - the florist of spring

fuchsia - the thread of killer love

sakura - the miko on mountain

rose - the bulter in house of rose

peach - the successor of the great sage

coral - the last flag

#ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #bsd #bungou stray dogs #For Wanting A Page #bsd atsushi #atsushi nakajima #bsd au #bsd aus #bsd fic #bsd fanfic #bsd the book #bsd beast

10 notes · View notes

lucennia · 3 months ago

Text

a few asoiaf faceclaims

Lyanna Stark, Arthur Dayne, Rhaegar Targaryen

Rhaegar faceclaim stolen from @jacaeryspilled x

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Lyanna had seen them both at the opening feast—wept, even, to the prince’s sad song—but up close they were almost otherworldly. Ser Arthur’s enameled steel armor was the color of milk, chased with gold, and from his shoulders trailed the snowfield cloak of the Kingsguard. The only spot of color on him was a lavender jade clasp inlaid with a white sword crossing over a falling star. Above his back rose the pale hilt of Dawn. The knight was tall, just as tall as the prince, but he was thicker about the chest and broader at the shoulders. His short-cropped hair was black as a raven’s coat, his strong jaw darkened by the shadow of a new beard. A slight crook to his nose was his sole scar; the quiet mark of a man who had bled and risen still.

The Warrior come to life, her mind whispered. Benjen will be green with envy to learn that I have seen the knight he so worships, and from so near.

At his side, the crown prince was almost Ser Arthur’s inverted twin. Where his knight donned white, the prince wore black. He was in the colors of his royal house: a black velvet doublet with a scarlet half cape draped across one shoulder, clasped with a silver three-headed dragon brooch with little rubies for eyes. The Targaryen dragon also adorned his crown, rearing fiercely along the slender gold circlet above his brow. Beneath it spilled a long wave of silver-pale hair. The face it framed was exceedingly handsome: beautiful, almost, with his straight nose and fine cheekbones that told a tale of golden blood. But it was his eyes that spoke the loudest. They were cousins to Ser Arthur's, a solemn pool of indigo just a shade deeper than his knight's spirited violet. And so... melancholy.

I wonder why he is so sad, thought Lyanna. He is the crown prince, yet he looks as if he has scarcely known a scrap of joy...

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Descriptions from A Crown of False Spring.

#asoiaf #lyanna stark #arthur dayne #rhaegar targaryen #asoiaf fanfic #i messed with arthur's nose for so long and it's still not quite right #i am not sorry for the thirsty descriptions #writing

11 notes · View notes

juliaqueendragon · 5 months ago

Text

Full List of Names Pre-2025-02-12

Comparison (Names only in 1st or 2nd Position down Below)

Abyss

Acacia

Ace

Agate

Air

Alpha

Amber

Amethyst

Ancient

Angel

Anti

Apocalypse

Apple

Aqua

Aquamarine

Arch

Arctic

Ash

Attack

Aurora

Autumn

Azure

Baby

Ball

Banana

Basalt

Bat

Bay

Bear

Beat

Bee

Berry

Beryl

Big

Birch

Bird

Blaze

Blind

Block

Blue

Bold

Book

Botanic

Bottle

Boulder

Bow

Box

Brain

Bramble

Brass

Brave

Bread

Breath

Breeze

Bright

Brilliant

Broken

Bronze

Bubble

Bullet

Bumble

Butter

Butterly

Cactus

Cake

Candle

Candy

Caramel

Carrot

Cash

Castle

Cat

Chance

Chaos

Charcoal

Charm

Cherry

Chestnut

Chip

Chocolate

Chunky

Cinder

Cinnamon

Citrine

Clash

Class

Classy

Clear

Clever

Cloud

Clover

Club

Coal

Coco

Cocoa

Coconut

Coffee

Cold

Color

Cool

Copper

Coral

Core

Corn

Coyote

Crazy

Crescent

Crimson

Crow

Crown

Crystal

Cup

Cupcake

Cute

Daisy

Dance

Danger

Dark

Darkness

Dash

Dawn

Day

Deep

Deer

Demon

Depth

Desert

Dew

Diamond

Dice

Dip

Disco

Dive

Divine

Dizzy

Doctor

Dog

Dollar

Dolphin

Domino

Donut

Doom

Double

Dragon

Drake

Dream

Drop

Druid

Drum

Duke

Dusk

Dust

Dusty

Eagle

Earth

East

Easter

Echo

Eclipse

Egg

Elder

Ember

Emerald

Epic

Evening

Ever

Extra

Fairy

Faith

Falcon

Fan

Fancy

Fantasy

Far

Farm

Fast

Fern

Field

Fire

Flame

Flash

Flower

Fluffy

Flutter

Fly

Force

Fortune

Fox

Freedom

Frenzy

Fresh

Frog

Frost

Fruit

Future

Galaxy

Game

Garden

Garnet

Gem

Ghost

Giga

Ginger

Glass

Glitter

Globe

Gloom

Glory

Glow

Gold

Grace

Grand

Grass

Gray

Great

Green

Griffin

Grim

Ground

Guardian

Hair

Hall

Hand

Harpy

Hawk

Hay

Hazel

Heat

Heaven

Heavy

Hero

Hollow

Holly

Home

Honey

Horse

Hour

Humming

Ice

Illusion

Indigo

Iron

Ivory

Jade

Jasper

Jazz

Jelly

Jewel

Juice

Jump

June

Jungle

Juniper

Jute

Kangaroo

Key

Kick

King

Kite

Knight

Koala

Lady

Lake

Land

Lavender

Leaf

Leather

Legend

Lemon

Life

Light

Lily

Lime

Lion

Little

Live

Lost

Love

Lucky

Luna

Lush

Magic

Magma

Marble

Maroon

Marzipan

Masked

Master

May

Maze

Mega

Melody

Melon

Memory

Metal

Meteor

Midnight

Milk

Mind

Mini

Mint

Miracle

Mirror

Mist

Mocking

Money

Moon

Morning

Moss

Mountain

Mouse

Movie

Music

Mystic

Myth

Nacho

Nature

Nebula

Night

Ninja

Noble

North

Nova

Nugget

Oak

Obsidian

Ocean

Octopus

Old

Olive

Onion

Onyx

Opal

Orange

Orchid

Osprey

Owl

Paladin

Pale

Panda

Paper

Park

Party

Peace

Peach

Pearl

Penguin

Pepper

Peridot

Phantom

Phoenix

Pie

Pine

Pink

Pirate

Pixel

Pop

Posh

Potato

Power

Proof

Pumpkin

Purple

Purpur

Quail

Quartz

Quest

Quick

Rain

Rainbow

Ranger

Raspberry

Raven

Red

Rich

River

Robin

Rock

Root

Rose

Row

Royal

Ruby

Rune

Sad

Saddle

Salt

Sand

Sapphire

Scarlet

Scary

Scroll

Sea

Sequoia

Set

Shade

Shadow

Shark

Ship

Sienna

Silent

Silver

Sky

Small

Snake

Snow

Soft

Solid

Solo

Song

Soul

Sound

South

Spark

Sparkle

Spell

Spider

Spirit

Sporty

Spotlight

Spring

Spruce

Squirrel

Star

Steam

Steel

Step

Stone

Storm

Strawberry

Sugar

Summer

Sun

Sunny

Sunrise

Sunset

Swamp

Sweet

Swift

Table

Tea

Thorn

Thunder

Tiger

Time

Tin

Tiny

Titan

Tooth

Topaz

Town

Trail

Tree

Trouble

Truth

Tsunami

Tulip

Turtle

Tuxedo

Twilight

Twin

Twinkle

Ultra

Umber

Unicorn

Vanilla

Violet

Voice

Void

Wall

Walnut

Walrus

Water

Wave

Way

Weather

Web

West

Wild

Willow

Wind

Wing

Winter

Wish

Witch

Wizard

Wolf

Wonder

Wood

World

Yam

Yellow

Yoga

Youth

Yule

Zap

Zebra

Zombie

Ace

Agate

Air

Amber

Anchor

Angel

Anthem

Apocalypse

Apple

Apricot

Aquamarine

Attack

Aura

Away

Bag

Band

Bank

Beach

Beam

Bean

Bear

Beat

Beauty

Bee

Bell

Belle

Berg

Berry

Beryl

Bird

Birth

Biscuit

Blaze

Block

Blood

Blossom

Blue

Board

Bolt

Bone

Book

Born

Bottle

Boulder

Bow

Box

Boy

Brain

Bramble

Brass

Bread

Break

Breath

Breeze

Broken

Bronze

Brook

Brother

Bubble

Buddy

Bug

Bullet

Butter

Butterfly

Cactus

Cake

Candle

Candy

Caramel

Care

Cash

Caster

Catcher

Cave

Chain

Champion

Chance

Charm

Chaser

Cherry

Chestnut

Chief

Child

Chip

Chocolate

Chunk

Citrine

Clash

Class

Clear

Cloud

Clover

Club

Cocoa

Color

Comet

Copper

Core

Corn

Craft

Crasher

Crescent

Crimson

Cross

Crow

Crown

Crumb

Crush

Cry

Crystal

Cube

Cup

Cupcake

Dale

Dancer

Danger

Dark

Darling

Dash

Dawn

Deep

Deer

Demon

Desert

Desire

Destiny

Dew

Diamond

Dice

Dip

Disco

Diver

Divine

Dollar

Dolphin

Dome

Doom

Dove

Dragon

Drake

Dream

Dreamer

Drink

Drop

Druid

Drummer

Duck

Duke

Dusk

Dust

Eagle

Earth

Echo

Eclipse

Effect

Egg

Escape

Eye

Fairy

Faith

Falcon

Fall

Fan

Farm

Father

Feather

Field

Fighter

Film

Finder

Fire

Fish

Flake

Flame

Flash

Flight

Floor

Flower

Fly

Flyer

Force

Form

Fortune

Frame

Free

Friend

Frost

Fruit

Future

Gait

Galaxy

Game

Gap

Garden

Garnet

Gate

Gaze

Gazer

Gem

Ghost

Gift

Girl

Glass

Glimmer

Globe

Gloom

Glory

Glow

Goal

Goat

Gold

Grace

Green

Griffin

Ground

Growth

Guard

Guardian

Guest

Gum

Habitat

Hair

Hall

Hand

Harmony

Harpy

Hat

Hawk

Hazel

Head

Heart

Heat

Heaven

Herb

Hero

Hill

Hollow

Home

Honey

Honor

Hoof

Hope

Horse

Hour

Humming

Hunter

Hurricane

Hype

Ice

Icon

Idol

Ivory

Jasper

Jazz

Jewel

Joke

Joker

Joy

Juice

Jump

Jumper

Jungle

Juniper

Kangaroo

Keeper

Key

Kick

Kid

King

Kiss

Kite

Knight

Knock

Koala

Lady

Lake

Land

Lavender

Leader

Leaf

Legend

Lemon

Less

Letter

Liberty

Life

Light

Lily

Lime

Lin

Ling

Lion

Live

Log

Loop

Lord

Love

Luck

Lucky

Lush

Machine

Madness

Magic

Man

Mane

Maniac

Mare

Mark

Maroon

Mask

Masked

Master

Matter

Maze

Meadow

Melody

Melon

Memory

Metal

Milk

Mind

Mint

Mirror

Mist

Mocking

Mode

Moment

Monster

Moon

Mother

Mountain

Movie

Music

Mystery

Mystic

Myth

Nature

Nebula

Ninja

Nova

Novel

Nugget

Oak

Oasis

Ocean

Octopus

Omen

Onion

Orange

Orb

Orchid

Osprey

Owl

Pair

Paladin

Panda

Paper

Park

Part

Party

Path

Peak

Pearl

Penguin

Pepper

Peridot

Petal

Phantom

Phoenix

Pie

Piece

Pine

Pink

Pirate

Pixel

Place

Plan

Planet

Plant

Play

Pop

Potential

Power

Price

Prince

Princess

Promise

Proof

Pumpkin

Punk

Purple

Purpose

Quake

Quartz

Queen

Quest

Quiver

Rabbit

Racer

Rain

Rainbow

Rambler

Range

Ranger

Raspberry

Ray

Reader

Rebel

Red

Respect

Rest

Rich

Rider

Ring

Rising

River

Road

Robin

Rock

Rocket

Role

Root

Rose

Row

Royal

Ruby

Runner

Saga

Sand

Scout

Scroll

Secret

Seeker

Sequoia

Set

Shade

Shadow

Shell

Shelter

Shimmer

Shine

Ship

Shore

Shout

Shy

Signal

Silence

Silver

Singer

Sister

Sky

Smash

Smoke

Snap

Snout

Snow

Solid

Solo

Song

Soul

Spark

Sparkle

Spell

Spice

Spider

Spirit

Splash

Spot

Squirrel

Stallion

Star

Steel

Step

Stone

Storm

Strawberry

Stream

Strider

String

Sunrise

Sunset

Surfer

Surprise

#star stable #ssoblr #sso #star stable online

7 notes · View notes