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ricardian-werewolf · 2 months

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Fanfic Masterlist:

(Cover is of Gassed, by John Singer Sargent. Held in the custody of IWM London). (cover made using Canva). Abstract: Set in an alternate timeline of the Grishaverse where the country of Ravka very closely resembles the Western Front of the Great War, this is a fic that sets out to explore an idea: What if First Army developed their own order of Saints, and how this affects the war effort. Part reflection on Religion, War, femininity, and social propaganda movements, part war-story Straight from the early 20th century a la the writings of Will R Bird. All angst. Characters: Nikolai Lantsov, Dominik Vertov, Olga Kylov (oc), Will R Bird, Alina Starkov, and others! Pairings: Nikolai x OC. Rating: Mature CW/TWs: War, mentions of extreme violence, universe typical prejudices, heavy discussions of religion. Later chapters go into period typical sexism of the late Victorian period, and share cases similar to that of the Red Army's female soldiers of ww2. Masterlist: (updated with new chapters) 1. Over There

Rating: Mature Cw/Tws: heavy discussions of mental health, prices of religious trauma and sainthood. Lots of mentions of attempted assassinations by Vasily. Sexual assault mentions, smut in later chapters, graphic depictions of violence, but canon. merzost being used anti-canonically.

Ao3 Link: Masterlist: (Updated with new chapters).

Stars 'round his wrists.

When I am King, you will be first against the wall.

Take My hand, I'll drown you with me.

But your profile could not hide the fact you knew I was approaching your throne.

The world is lying fallow and you are apart from me.

Holy Water cannot help you now.

Still, I follow the Heartlines on your hand.

Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap.

The Cost of the Crown.

I am a world's forgotten boy.

Non-Grishverse FIC. **** Profunda Venae - Deep veins.

Chronicling a split off of English history during the weeks after Victoria’s coronation, this series explores the What-Ifs of the English Industrial revolution and the idea of vampires being representative of the ruling class. It also dives into the ideas of class revolution, Nuclear Winter, the usage of productive power to control the narrative, and more. It is also mainly a narrative of just how dangerous controlling the reins of who tells history can truly be.

Written during the hardest years of my life, this series was created to be a distraction from the mires and misery of Neurodivergency in a common-education experience.

Book 1 is set in a world much like our own with certain shifts. Book 2 is a world that starts out similar and quickly becomes quite different. Book 3 is a world that is far in the past and far in the future all at once.

Book 1: The Lineaments of Malefaction: [Finished]

Synopsis:

1838 - the house of Hanover and the United Kingdom are at last stable. Queen Victoria has taken to the throne with Lord M at her shoulder as her beloved Prime Minister. However, as always, those left in the shadows squabble and plot.

For what more of a travesty can there be than a sweet queen of 18, and a human one at that?

Wrongs must always be righted, regardless of who is in the way. Sometimes those means are more dastardly than anyone could imagine. As someone once said, family is not stronger than the blood that is spilt on the battlefield of power.

Chapter List, with dates of publication:

1. Pills and plans (2022-03-11)

2. Blood in the water (2022-03-12)

3. A murder of politicians (2022-03-13)

4. Ballrooms and bites (2022-03-13)

5. The Revenants of Pemberley (2022-03-17)

6. Lifting the veil (2022-03-17)

7. Burning down the castle (2022-03-28)

8. Shadows, the stars, and you. (2022-03-28)

9. Oh Noel (2022-04-02)

10. For the Queen (2022-04-02)

11. If we burn, you burn with us (2022-04-07)

12. recovery and revolution (2022-04-07)

13. Paint it black (2022-04-07)

14. A wedding and a honeymoon. (2022-04-07)

15. All that ends well (2022-04-07)

Book 2: The Evils of Darkness: [Finished]

Synopsis:

1848 - the house of Kingsbridge and England have enjoyed 8 years of relative peace and quiet. Victoria and Lord M are at last united in matrimony and state, and those who opposed their rule are defeated or interred. Yet, plans always abound to take down those some see as unpopular.

For vampires aren’t fit to rule humans. Even in a place like Great Britain, wrongs must be righted, and balance must be restored.

No matter the personal cost.

Chapter List:

1. A bad beginning (2022-04-18)

2. Hold tight London (2022-04-21)

3. The Threads of eternity. (2022-04-21)

4. The War Game (2022-05-06)

5. When the wind blows (2022-05-06)

6. The Day After (2022-05-18)

7. Protect and survive (2022-05-30)

8. Operation square leg (2022-06-06)

9. Do no harm (2022-06-25)

10. Nuclear winter (2022-07-22)

11. Babylon (2022-08-17) Book 3: Dum Pugnatur, Bellum Amittitur [ongoing]

Synopsis:

1865 - the thrones of Queen Victoria and King William are lost to the wastelands. The House of Kingsbridge is no more, and in its place, factions plot and squabble to rule the destroyed land once called England.

But that is easier said then done, for England herself is a place of ruin and starvation. For the nuclear winter that ripped the royal family apart has rolled its citizens back to the Middle Ages. But for those who have survived the hell of 1858, there is a new threat on the horizon that may blot out even 1848 - America has been at war with itself for going on 4 years, and there is whispers abounding that the Royal Family may be amongst the evacuees who fled on the steamship, the Kerberos.

All of these whispers and plans within plans make for a perfect firestorm to be set upon England's starving lower classes, for as someone once said: fealty is not stronger than the blood that is spilled on the battlefield of power.

Chapter list:

1. Now Is The Winter Of Our Discontent (2023-02-02)

2. Ravens feathers and Mozart (2023-08-11)

3. Paternoster Row (2023-09-25)

4. The Evil Genius of the Republican Party. (2023-10-09)

5. A Plea To Fate (2023-11-15)

6. Marian (2024-03-07)

Fear and Delight, or how I learned to stop worrying and wear gloves to hide my trauma.

Synopsis:

* Set During Season 2 of the Gilded Age - does not follow central plot by the beats*. Title taken from Dr Strangelove. ***** The Russell's Newport mansion could be called many things. The New York Times called it “Grandiose - a paragon of modern architecture.” The Post deemed it: “The newly-built mansion is a sign of the shifting tides of New Money upon our cities elite,”. More attention was paid to the ongoing Opera War waged by Bertha Russell and her arch nemesis, Caroline Astor. Astor had the boxes at the Academy of Music and dealt them out like generals awarding medals to soldiers who’d survived a conflict: rarely given and precious to only a few. Bertha Russell had set up the enemy camp with her Metropolitan Opera house (still undergoing building and desperately needing funds), and sought to gain some of the broken backs of the Academy’s patrons. The more soldiers - patrons - Mrs Russell could win over in advance of the Met’s opening, the better. ***** Robber Barons, The Crows, a Princess who is in America to settle an old Score, all for one very mediocre production of Faust.

Chapter list:

1. Washington Square (2024-01-12)

2. Old Money (2024-01-21)

Blood of the Immortals:

Synopsis:

Atlantic City, 1921. Prohibition has come in with a bang, and the bootleggers long to profit off of people’s desire for spirits. But some of their intentions and creations come with nasty consequences. Sometimes, liquor really can kill. And for Nucky Thompson, that’s a gamble he’s willing to take. Even if federal agents are snapping at his heels, and people are dying in the streets, Atlantic City, is after all, the world’s playground.

Chapter list:

1. Blood stained sheets (2021-07-14)

2. The ivory tower (2021-07-14)

3. The tin soldier (2021-07-24)

4. A Wolf, a man, and a plan (2021-08-10)

5. Every little thing she does is madness. (2021-09-14)

6. Leave before the sun comes up (2021-09-27)

7. Burning for you (2021-10-05)

8. Death Race (2021-10-14)

9. The darkest hour is before the dawn (2021-10-18)

10. Don’t turn your back (2021-10-18)

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visd3stele · 2 years

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synopsis: cursed in a magic circus, king Hal loses his crown. He is willing to believe any curse can be a blessing when it brings him to you.

tw: magical au! talks of poisoning, talks of creepy old men, attempt sa

a/n: don't forget to let me know what you think: asks, reblogs, messages, comments, whatever feedback is welcomed, cherrished and encouraged <3

SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME THEY KNOW WHY KING HAL'S HORSE IS NAMED TINY HORSE, I'm begging

A galloping circus

When the moon begin her slow ascend on the still lit sky, one can feel a thimble in the air. A shift in the waves of air. Colder, harsher, agitating the sea and the ocean in a call to help their queen. And as the tides spiral 'til the stars to tickle them awake, the Masters of the night spread their limbs and smile a toothy grin.

One such Master is the First Star. Born from Lihtnighte and the Moon, coddled by the moms and gaped at and admired by the whole suite, the First Star learned to love its beauty. Worshipped by the humans for the light it offered, as bright as a second sun in the midst of shadows full of lurking beasts, the First Star learned to play with them.

It visited often on the Land. Amongst humans, unlike any other Master. Bored to no end, the First Star decided to stir up some fun...

"But what's fun for an immortal isn't fun for us, mere humans." You whispered under your breath, cementing your annoyance with a swift roll of your eyes. The horse you were tessellating neighed his agreement. He moved his head stubbornly against your comb when you approached his hair, meaning to braid it before the show.

The circus master gave you a stern look and repeated the last sentence to anchor himself in his speech again. The entire tent was witness to chaos and havoc below its curtains. Just like every time you visit the duke's domains.

You paid no mind to the story. You knew it by heart already. All people do, part of the circus or not. The First Star created it to amuse itself. At the beginning all was good. People presented their talents, made jokes, put plays in place, danced and singed as they did when celebrating the other Masters of the night.

But one human dared to question it. The First Star was too laid back, keeping people from their work days and nights in never ending rows; and thus harming their society. Taking great offense at the mortal, the First Star cursed her and the circus. Frozen in time, forced to perform for eternity in its name so that anyone else can move forward like the daring woman wanted.

Which is why the humans of the Land religiously respect the Bright Circus. Wherever it goes, every night it performs, the tent captures the unique light of the First Star, shining like a diamond on the ground.

You were a bit odd in this picture, though. You joined the circus willingly a hundred and seven years after it was made. Running from a marriage you wished no part of, fooled by enchanted promises and silvery lies.

The First Star appeared to you one night, startling Nightsun, your favored horse. A wild stallion none of your father's stable boys could tame. He bowed to you, though. The little lady y/l/n who would rather feed the horses and clam the hay than sit through manner lections and dress fittings.

It led you to the Bright Circus. "I've been watching you, miss y/l/n. I think you would be a marvelous addition to my Circus."

Indeed, you were. Your number was easily the most impressive one under the cursed tent. And despite the scary tales of the First Star's wrath - very clearly showed by the heavy pregnant woman that wiped the seats after the public left (the woman who dared go against the Master of the night that fateful day, you later learned) - you knew no one would go against its will. If the Star wanted you, the Star shall have you.

So, you traded a cursed destiny for another. Two hundred years you did the same thing, every night. Performing mostly for the depraved rich. You started your number alone in the middle of the sand circle that separated the Master of the night's puppets from the free public. Then, like a lightning against the night sky, Nightsun would come running in. Stardust caught in his caramel hair, moonbeams glistening off his soft light-brown skin. The effect that earned him his name, a sun in the night, shining bright enough to catch the First Star's eyes.

From here, you would improvise. Years of sneaking in the stables and hiding in the woods for moments of freedom taught you many things. To chase boredom away, you'd climb the horse and dance on his back. Or play around with Nightsun, on and off his saddle free form. Legs thrown in the air while your upper body supported you safely on Nightsun, a slow waltz alone on his back, twirling and jumping around and on the strong mustang... it all pleased the immortal star.

One day, though, another odd one stepped on your stage. A boy around your age... or rather the age you were before the curse froze you in time alongside the people of the Bright Circus. He was tall and lean, his hair cut carelessly, shorter on edges, cupping his face with wild curls. He walked with his head held high, even though his shoulders seemed to drop down on each step.

Hal. No last name, no middle name, no backstory. A boy brought in by the First Star one afternoon as mysteriously as it took you. All the boy owned was a beautiful horse that kept close to her master. A high mare of the deepest browns you've ever seen; one white strike split her face in two, completing the etheral image the horse made. Her, and the clothes on him.

You have tried guessing his life story from them, the dusty clothes he wore every night, washed in the river each morning. No luck. The fabric was simple, but lasting. A loose green shirt paired with a coat so long and light in weight you couldn't find it a practical purpose and tight black pants. Nothing to indicate the wealth. He could have been a smaller nobleman, a richer bourgeois or even a peasant dressed from well sewn patches of his master's old clothes. It was practiced by your father's servants.

Or perhaps even a duke's son who ran astray and found himself in an impossible situation. Your frustration with Hal only grew by the day, with his silent demeanor, reserved personality and loneliness. But you couldn't deny the excitement that rose in yourself with his arrival. No more were you alone under the scrunting gaze of a cruel public. No more were you alone, standing out against the family the first in the Circus created.

"Nervous?" He asked from the box next to yours. The First Star's magic fit inside the Bright Circus everything its inhibitors needed to please the viewers. Everything you did was to please them. And regardless of the story of the Circus' origins, they still seemed to have forgotten the pain and sufferance of people stuck in time for eternity on the whim of an angry immortal.

"He speaks," you teased friendly. You had gotten used to Hal and his antics: keeping mostly to himself when the group gathered around the fire after the show, eating alone on river's benches or with his horse in the stables. Venturing around the tent as often as he could.

A wanderer such as yourself.

One time, within a few days since he came to the Circus, you followed in his steps. It was the day you finally connected, a bond so sudden, so unusual that it could only strengthen shortly into an unbreakable one.

"What secrets do you hide, Hal? Could you be a changeling, spying for the Fae Queen? Or, even better! Perhaps a Forest Spirit."

The young man eyed you then. He let his gaze roam you, truly taking you in for the first time. Hal's frown unknitted his wrinkled brows and light touched his shadowed face unlike never before since you met him. Even a small tug of his lips fluttered at the corner of his mouth.

"Shouldn't you be more afraid if I was?"

"Oh, absolutely not! I hope you are, for I cannot make sense of you and that would be such a wonderful explanation."

He rose one brow, turning his whole self to look at you. You noticed an upside down Y shaped scar on his cheek. And you added it to the list of things you knew about your partner. A name, a secretive personality, expensive clothes, but unlike any noble's and an unknown wound on the side of his cheekbone. Such a great, useful list!

"Most people would be afraid of these beings. Even the ones who don't believe in their existence."

"But I'm sure they exist. If our Masters of the night are real, so can our folk tales. I would like to meet one. Or all. There can't be a whole world invisible to us full of only awful creatures."

A small smile graced Hal's lips, so genuine it took you by surprise and bewitched your mind and soul for a second or more. "Perhaps not." And you got the feeling he meant more that the stories that scare kids to sleep and serfs into labor.

"What's her name?" You asked when the silence became too much.

Hal smirked. "Tiny Horse."

You burst out laughing, all the pent up stress and curiosity flowing free in chimes of absurd happiness. The young man looked at your closed eyes, mouth wide open as your chest heaved with each laugh, head thrown back as you knotted your fingers in your horse's hair to keep from falling. And warmly smiled.

"Only when I have something to say. But you knw that already."

"That I do," you leaned from Nightsun to peak in Tiny Horse's box where Hal begrudgingly adorned the mare's mane with feathers and shiny stones, polished to look like authentic jewels.

"Don't worry about me, Hal. I'll survive. The horses, though..."

Hal scoffed. "I hate them. Whom do they think they are to demand how we or our horses look when we perform?!"

"A very influent duke and his court," you sighed as another scoff echoed from the boy.

Tiny Horse and Nightsun beat their hooves on the ground restlessly. A pained look passed both of your faces. All the ornaments itched the poor animals' quite badly. You and Hal had to stop your number for weeks after a visit at this duke's estate. You'd let the horses run free, bathing them, tessellating and sleeping in their boxes to make sure they're not sick.

"Why are they called nobles?" Hal mumbled. "There's nothing noble about them."

As always, there was that mysterious fog clouding his speech. A vengeful longing barely hidden. As if his past was haunting him still and Hal, bitter about it, felt trapped in his powerless state in the Bright Circus.

"The title may have bore some meaning long ago."

"It had no other meaning than stuck up minx lords believing they're better than anyone else."

"Was your landlord a bad man, then?" You asked, hoping to gain some information of his other life, before he danced with you on top of marvelous horses in a magical tent.

"Five minutes!" The pregnant lady, the Maker of the Bright Circus in her defiance of the immortal Star, announced. A shiver ran down your spine each time you saw her. Carrying an eight months babe in her womb for hundreds of years... you couldn't begin to imagine or understand such a nightmare!

When you turned, Hal and Tiny Horse already left.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

After you readied Nightsun, you tipped on your toes to watch the seats fill with well dressed ladies, trailing their gowns behind their tight waists and lords in the softest buffalo leather coats. You didn't miss the days a maid would wrap the corset around your bruised torso until you looked like the fragile porcelain doll you had to be. But the change of the world always made you sigh in wonder.

You would usually sneak under the seats, where the ground was low and created a small hole, enough to easily fit two people. And watched. No matter the public, rich, poor or serfs even, you enjoyed observing them. Comparing how everything was supposed to be in your time and how things evolved.

Sometimes, more often than not, Hal joined you. You would contemplate and comment together on the good and the bad of your realm and how swift the shift was, that the rest of the people who had the privillage of not being frozen in time didn't even notice it.

"I knew I'd find you here." He sighed, slugging his from to fit next to you.

"He says as if I'm the one who always disappears."

"Sorry. I didn't want to see them more than I have to."

Again with the thorny spite against nobles. Instead of prying on his past some more as your mind begged of you, you repositioned yourself to face him.

"Then how come you're here, now?"

"I thought better. Couldn't have possibly left you alone in such moments."

Your heart flipped at his words. And you blinked to spread the piercing warning of tears. You nodded, hoping Hal could tell how grateful you were, dropping your head on his shoulder softly. You raised a hand to cover his eyes.

"See anything?" When Hal shook his head you hummed in content. "Good. Now you can stay with me and not see the stuck ups."

Hal's body shook with laughter. Even though the sounds he made were muffled and barely audible, you embraced the vigorous movement with a happy smile.

The duke on whose lands you were about to perform has taken a special notice in you. He begin with sending his guards to escort you to the noble estate. Everyone knows the Circus disappears at the first stream of daylight, along with its cursed ones. No matter where they were. There was no escape.

You tried to push them aside, conjuring excuses such as needing to bath, wash the horse, feed him and yourself and everything you could have think of. When the duke himself started to press you to join him, he wouldn't take a refusal on your part.

"I'm so very sorry, m'lord, but I need a visit to the river nearby. All that effort and the fire-like light had me a gross mess of sweat and smell."

"My personal bathing chambers are a well deserved payment for your the likes of you."

"Thank you very much, you're too kind. Unfortunately my horse needs to be tend to."

"Don't you have servants to do the job? I am sure the First Star provides you all with every needed thing."

"No, m'lord. I have to take care of my horse myself."

"Then let me lend you some of my stables boys."

"I prefer it if no one touches Nightsun but me. It's better this way. A show horse caring looks different than a normal one."

It wasn't until Hal chimed in that the duke left you be. A demanding dominance adorning him as if he was meant to be listened to and he knew it. And the duke felt it too. But he would always start anew each time the Circus stopped on his lands.

Hal has proven to be a rock for your sanity in the decades you spent together. And you suspected - or at the very least hoped so - that you gave him some sort of comfort as well.

"I- I didn't have a landlord." He whispered after some time. Your hand still over his eyes. Better this way, perhaps. If you could see the green entrance to Hal's soul, he might close to you again.

You remined silent. An encouraging brush of your nose against his shoulder the only sign you were paying attention.

"I was raised at Court. The royal Court. Surrounded by so called nobles. Disgusting men like this duke. I learned to see their true faces."

You muffled a yelp of surprise at his words. Never in your wildest assumption have you thought Hal might come from the King's palace.

His body tensed against your feather light touch. "What happened?" It was the question that conveyed all your curiosities. Though you weren't content with it still.

Hal let out a mocking gruff of laughter. "What happened? They poisoned me. My... the King favored me and I didn't favor them. So they poisoned me."

"The First Star saved you." The words traveled through you on their own accord. An extension of the mind who focused on what it can understand from the pieced story Hal gave you.

He nodded, shifting to face you, letting his forehead drop on your shoulder. Your palm still on his face, but Hal knew your body as he did his own. As you did your own and his as well. When you danced, you never rehearsed your moves from the start. You improvised. Always something new. Never the same choreography. You learned your bodies well. Could feel each other edges and presence even in the dark, even with your eyes closed. And it became an unconscious part of your lives and instincts.

"It came to me that night. I could barely see it, vision blurry with tears and the fog of looming end. I couldn't breath and my own blood tasted bitter in my mouth. That I managed a nod at the First Star proposal is a miracle."

"Do you regret it?"

"Do you?" Hal shot back, raising his had and softly removing your hand from his eyes as he straighten. Back to his usual self, as if he didn't just open up to you more than ever.

"No." You whispered, a sense of betrayal sneaking from the back of your mind.

You hated the First Star and the Bright Circus and what it does to its poor people. But you wouldn't change your answer all those years ago. Because you're not free right now and you will never be, but at least now you can ride, you can dance, you are husbandless and... and you met Hal. You cannot regret whatever choice led you to him. Or rather, led him to you.

"Yeah," Hal agreed, watching the different emotions fill your e/c eyes like a tangled web. "I don't regret living or having all the time in the world to spend with Tiny Horse. I don't regret my life means riding her, dancing... and you." A blush colored his cheeks as Hal pierced your soul with his own. Trembling lashes the only indicative of his nervousness. Gone as soon as you noticed it. Replaced by the suppressed anger so familiar to his gaze.

"But I do regret what has been take from me. What I didn't know how to appreciate as my brother did and didn't want hard enough as my brother did. I could have done so much for so many. Be the man my father wanted because the Land needed it..."

"Shh." You hugged Hal tight as his words turned into whispers and his body convulsed with unshed tears and rage. "Shhh. It's alright." You didn't understand much of his rambling. But you understood the feeling of shuttering guilt for enjoying a new life that hurts so many, the missing of a far away past that hurt and hurts still. And the need to change, to help.

"It's alright. We're both here now. Nothing to do about it. I've got you."

"I've got you." He repeated slower and nodded his head and blink his lids to shake off the tears welled in those mesmerizing green pools.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Soon all the seats were taken. A sea of people fit under the magic veil of the Bright Circus. You and Hal sneaked out of your hidden spot. It was time to take you places and get ready.

The show went on as usual. The kids went first, with their makeshift dolls from corn or wood. With the magic of the First Star they could now bring the objects to life. Orchestrate a play they wrote themselves. Never one the same as the kids, even those frozen in times for centuries, have an infinite supply of imagination.

Then Hlaf, former baker in a life long since gone, would enter the stage. He'd contort his body in such manner he could fit through a ring off a lady's finger. Following suit, Feora and Engel would amaze the public with their wire walking. Such a thin thread of cotton, suspended on twenty meters in the air, the two sisters seemed to fly.

Later came Seax with their blades and Deor with her wild animals, somehow tame to her words. After, Blīþe followed with his jokes. The short man could talk for hours and the people would laugh their breath away. But as all things must come to an end, new ones must begin.

You weren't paying attention to the movement around you. Eyes fixed on the duke, in the middle of the first row. A start coursed through your body as you felt someone's touch at your side. Hal was squeezing your hand tight, hid thumb brushing over the back of your palm in soothing circles.

"I've got you," he whispered. "And you've got this."

A nervous smile trembled on your lips, though a genuine flicker twitched the corners of your mouth. "We've got this."

"Y/n, Hal, you're turn." The First Woman of the Bright Circus spoke behind you. The Show Runner was making your introduction, the same as always: Admired grandees and dear workers, young and less so, folk of the Land, you know our story, but you don't know theirs. Everyone is aware of our blessing, but theirs is a mystery the First Star landed upon us for reason only it can be privy to. But fret not, my darlings, for their talent is undeniable. Majestic. Welcome our marvelous pair of equestrian dancers!

You and Hal rolled your eyes at the same time. Your heart skipping beats, shoulders tensed, forcefully rolled back. His jaws set, muscles pulsing on the beat of his heavy heart.

Nightsun and Tiny Horse entered the sand circle, your stage. In a mist of maroon-yellow dust lifted in the air by their grumpy hooves. The two horses settled their pace, slowing down as they moved in the circle facing each other, distance closing in, in, in...

Hal took off. Fierce. Fast. Like a knight charging into battle. The man hadn't stop a second until his feet gently hit the back of the strong mare. Hal didn't climb up, he jumped. No hands rested on the side of the horse to help him. Just a flex of his knees, a wide jump and he twirled in the air to land gracefully on top of Tiny Horse.

The people, who have been holding their breath, afraid to even blink to not lose a beat of his steps, released the now warm air at once. Then the tent filled with the deep, bearish noise of clapping, sighs of admiration, whistles and appreciative murmurs.

Your turn. Hal is waiting for you. You close your eyes to take the duke's image out of your mind, life your chin and fix your gaze on him. On Hal. The unexpected friend in which you found comfort, affection. Love, you dared name it now, to give you strength. Though you were pushing the feeling down for over a decade. As sweet and kind he is to you, he is still Hal. The cold, privet man who opens up about himself in riddles and so rare he doesn't make sense.

Except... he shouldn't make sense. And in your mind he doesn't. But your heart learned the language of his summer green eyes, the rhythm of his laugh and the beat of his soul.

"Go," she whispered impatiently. And this time her pregnant form didn't sent shivers down your body. You were so light, your body but a feather through the air as you neared Nightsun and Hal. Hal who smiled warmly at you from the just as lovely mare.

Turning to your left side as you reached the perfect spot for what you had in mind - not too close to your stallion, but close enough to work - you leaned all your weight on your left leg. The right one in the air, pulling your body after it. You felt every muscle, every tendon stretch. Then you landed on Nightsun's back with your right foot first, turning to the rows of stunned people.

It happened quick. They needed a moment to understand what they saw. And when they did, another round of heavy tinkle break through your haze.

"Showoff." Hal mumbled jokingly, so low you almost didn't hear.

"Not at all. You simply think so because you are, in fact, lazy today."

"Not lazy. Just... he doesn't deserve my best."

"Mine neither. But the little kids and the tired serfs do, hmm?"

Hal snapped his head towards you, greeted being by your questioning, almost disappointed eyes and raised eyebrows. He sighed. "You're right."

He offered you his hand, pulling you towards him as you swirled in the air until your feet brushed his - both bare - on Tiny Horse. Hal smiled and wiped the hair clean off your face before you tackled him, palms on his shoulders and switch back to Nightsun, right as he arrived to your subtle calling.

You couldn't last more under Hal's mellow gaze. The suave curve of lips welcoming you, reassuring you. You wanted more. You wanted the secrets behind his walls to include a love just as burning for you as yours was for him.

You took one deep breath and carried on. A web of limbs and bodies was made out of you and Hal, clutching tight to each other as you jumped and flew together. As you swayed to music you hummed in harmony, shaken closer and closer by horses beneath you.

Hal would take your wrists in his hands and let you walk the air on Tiny Horse's side as he supported your weight. You shifted your upper body until your shoulder were glued to his and rolled over, knocking some sand where you landed.

Hal moved one of his feet on Nightsun and circled you, proud and glowing like a Master of the Night in one of their chariots. When you could focus, you jumped and got behind him, legs wrapped around his torso as you climbed to sit on his shoulders.

"Get up. On your feet." He suggested for the ending. And you did. You placed your feet on his shoulders and waved to the public as Hal led the horses away. The night was done.

Or so you believed. Hal stopped the small convoy you created at the stables, leaving to get you both and the horses some food as the Show Runner wrapped up with the people.

Sighing in content, you laid your forehead in between Nightsun's and Tiny Horse's. Caressing each of their sides. "All done, my dearests. All done. You did so good. Amazing! I- we are both proud of you. Good job."

The horses neighed, something troubling them. You assumed it was the ornaments and moved to removed the sparkling feathers and golden jewels. But as you took the needed steps back, a thick hand wrapped around your stomach and pulled you behind.

Nightsun and Tiny Horse shifted the weight on their back legs, charging at your attacker. But the duke, as you recognized the piercing smell of a poor attempt to hide the sweat with aromatic plants' essence, moved his arm up until it pressed against your neck and pushed something shiny out front, pointing to the horses.

A ruffle, you realized, bile coming up your throat.

"Don't you dare hurt them." You warned. Though your voice was weak, strangled by the too big arm of the old man.

"Oh, but I don't want, beautiful y/n," he said, stuffing his nose in your hair and sniffing with a pleased sigh. A shudder passed through each and every of your bones as the hair on your arms picked up against the goosebumped skin.

Disgust. Towards him and also towards your powerless fear.

"All you have to do is stay still and let me have a taste for the animals to live."

"The only animal I see here is you." You spat. You knew there was no way you could put up a fight. Get away. He will have what he wants. But the least you could do was make sure it's as unpleasant as it can be. Reminding him of how small of a man he is. How disgusting, useless, pathetic...

A shot. Tiny Horse and Nightsun broke their deffence and whined, the sound scratching your ears. You tried to run to them, but the arm still painfully pressed against your neck chocked you.

"If the bulled touched even a bit of their hair..." you warned, but the duke cut you off.

"They're fine, dumb animals. Getting scared out of a little shot. The bullet went between them, probably stuck in one of those trees. But make no mistakes, I can and I will shoot them if you don't behave for me. Clear?"

Tears picked at your eyes as you nodded. Staying still when the duke relaxed the arm holding you hostage. Folding under his touch as he urged you to lay down, legs slightly apart.

If your parents could see you right now, a stray thought sneaked in. Making such a sacrifice for two some beast, you could hear your mother say. Don't be an idiot, y/n, your father would agree in his usual stoic manner.

Were you? Being an idiot? Should you fight the duke at the expense of your and Hal's horses and actually get away? Could you?

It was too late to wonder such things. The duke let his pants fall to his knees, hovering over you as he begin to undress your lower parts too.

You bit your lip, praying to your body to relax as your mother taught you for your wedding night. Night that never came. She said it would hurt less if you relax. But what about the pang in your heart and the loudness in your head. Thought banging against your skull, a bloody fist pulling at your heart, sunking it down, down, down...

You braced yourself. Lips sealed, teeth closed tight on the inside of your cheeks, head turned to the side in an attempt to see your wild mustang, untamed and free in spirit even in these or your father's stables and Hal's brave mare, strong and powerful. Eyes so fixed in the darkness your vision begin to blur.

And you waited. And waited. And waited. Nothing came.

Pushing yourself up on your elbow, you saw the duke's body lying in a wrong position at your feet. Above it, Hal stood cowered by the weight of his rage. His curls messier than ever, curved spine raising dangerously low as his breath hitched, coming too fast. His deep, smart eyes now crazed with wrath, bulged in two perfectly round shapes. In his hand, gripped by long, trembling fingers, a knife shone under the moonlight. Scarlet red blood glistening off of it.

"Hal?"

Your voice seemed to wake him from his fury. He turned your way, features softening on an instant, worry blooming in the spring of his eyes. He was careful to avoid your bare parts, gaze locked only on your face. Looking for signs of shock settling in.

"Yes, it's me." He said carefully.

You nodded. Relief flooded your senses so sudden and with such force, you begin trembling, letting the tears you fought so far fall with loud sobs and ragged breaths.

The brain couldn't keep up with the heart. You were fine. Nothing happened. But the mind struggled to grasp it. Too beautiful to be true. Hot blood pushed against cold limbs. Dried tongue tried to water chipped lips, to sooth the sting in the inside of your cheeks.

"You're fine. He's gone. Dead. You're safe." Hal spoke slow. Pointed. Making sure each of his words hit your ears and understanding.

You nodded. "I know. Thank you." Your voice was yours, but not your own. Changed with the weight of the scare. Rough and gruff.

Hal nodded as well. "I'll see to the horses, if that's alright."

He wanted to give you space. But your blood boiled now, heating every part of your body. Making your brain restless and your body so large, scattered, yet small, so, so small.

"Stay, please."

He stiffened, but did as you asked. Stepping over the corpse, leaked blood staining both of your still bare feet. Hal sat next to you, welcoming you in his arms as you scooped closer and closer until you sat in his lap.

Arms around his neck, his own supporting your back, rubbing it up and down, but never touching lower than your middle. Head hidden in the crook of his neck, breathing his scent as if it was a calming plant. Hal's head rested atop yours, the soft part of his cheek flat against the crown of your hair. Your heart steadied to follow his heart's rhythm. Your mind cleared of anything to let itself be filled with Hal. Only Hal.

The metallic scent of blood beat at your nostrils. You both ignored it, safe in your embrace. Part of your own world now. This one, no other more.

Seconds passed. Hours, days, months perhaps. An eternity and thousands more could have passed around you and neither would have noticed. Content as you were. Peaceful. Happy.

But all things must come to an end.

You tried to remember how it happened. Every detail of those terrible moments. You never were able to. A blur. A fading questioning under the weight of sharp voices and chilling orders. A shape of a distant color merged together from seven uniforms, seven people.

They took Hal first. Clothes still soaked in nappy red. They ripped him from you, limbs webbed, clinging tight to one another. And as they stepped away, finally holding Hal in their grip, you stumbled over him.

You barely noticed when the guards picked the lifeless body up, or when some servants and ladies in waiting caressed with soft words the newly widow's ears, deaf to any consolation.

A passing wondering flew through your mind - would she still be devastated had she known what the duke meant to do to you? - but you had no time to ponder over it.

"Hal!"

"Don't. Y/n, stay here. Go away. The hoses need you," he hoped to convince you. But it's a magic Circus, with magic proportions. There will be food for Tiny Horse and Nighstun and someone will attend to them. After all, the Cursed Ones are good people, a family. And even the animals are part of it.

"Let him go. He was only protecting me."

In another time, you would have known no one would care. You weren't a good lady anymore. Had your mind had been clearer, you would have remembered it. Hal seemed to better adjust to a titleless condition, regardless of the danger looming over him.

Would he be hanged? Can someone in the Bright Circus die? Lihtnighte wouldn't allow it for sure, right?

All the questions bugged through your head as you tried to pry the guards arms off your partner. Your Hal. Even without the love you nurtured for him, you owed him a try. He killed to save you. He is in this messy business because of you.

But you had too little force, exhausted as you were - and the guards, too much. They easily charged you with treason as well, for daring to stand between an act of punishment for a high criminal. Soon, you and Hal found yourselves on a short path to the ducal palace.

The journey there was made in silence. Hal was being kept at the back of the convoy - that turned to be a funeral walk as well - while they held you in the front. Even so, you felt his eyes on you, burning the back of your neck with care and concern. He didn't like the five men between which you were trapped. You neither. But more you hated the vile guards who tied Hal's hands by their horse's saddles and forced him to walk as they set the riding pace to slow gallop.

Hal and you were calm, though. Calmer than two people soon to be judged and executed should be. Everyone found it frustrating. The whimpers of fear, the wobbling lips and running noses, the teary eyes and chocked voices, it all fed the guards the sense of power they need to feel. The entitlement over one's - over many - life.

And they knew, of course they did. You won't die. You won't even catch sunrise in the dungeons. You both will vanish at the first gleam of sunlight. And if death might fall upon you, you both will wake up, well and alive, under the Circus' tents. So was your blessing and your curse.

So the guards seethed. Locked their teeth and hoped the widow duchesse would want to have your pained screams as payment for her beloved husband's death. If killing you was not an option, showing you a faith worse than must do.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

The castle rose dark and tall, a giant's shadow looming over crops and fragile wooden houses in the valley. This particular duke hadn't took care of his servants' needs.

In opposition, the walls of the fortress were thick and standing. Richness as you have yet to see adorned the architecture. Crenels sharp and dangerous barred their teeth to you from above. And a solid wooden gate draped over a deep river, filled with Masters of the night know what beasts.

Inside, a torch lit corridor swallowed the light from your eyes. So used to the night and the soft gleam of moonlight, the beauty of the stars' glister on the blue-black sky, your pupils closed in two small strawberry's kernels.

"I've forgotten how it feel like. Being inside a palace," Hal mumbled at your side. His sudden presence should have startled you, but never again could his voice be anything but calming and comforting.

The guards let you loose, tied up to a rope they carried much in front. Leading you to the duchesse court.

"Such a big noble you used to be?"

Hal didn't speak no more. Set jaws and a shaky breath the only answer you got.

Finally, you entered a golden antechamber. Soon, you'll meet your faith... for now. As the new day must not be far, if you rightly assumed.

"Move." A rough hand pulled you forward, casing you to stumble through the open doors and almost fall on the thick woolen carpet.

You weren't scared, you knew it. But something still stopped your from lifting your head. An unsettling feeling weighing heavy above and around.

You dared a peak to Hal. See if he feels the same. But his eyes roamed the walls in shocked awe. Lining your sight to match his gaze, you looked at the portraits displayed by the yet to appear duchesse. You saw the king who ruled when you were a little girl. His son next to him. Older than you remembered. But then again, you haven't seen the prince as he became King. The First Star made sure of it. The next men were all the same: stoic under the heavy crown, a scepter and a white fur finalizing the royal look. They all shared similar features too. A long and strong line of succession.

The certainty of a unmoving past captured not in stone, but in color and art lulled your brain into a foggy haze. You let it wrap you whole and sush the ringing bells of questioning the unreliable future you had open in front of you.

Until your eyes found eyes you knew so well. Eyes you stared into for ages. That gave you strength, loyalty and love. Eyes that bulked out of their sockets on the face next to you.

"Hal?"

Raised at Court. Favored by the late king. Poisoned by jealous, zealous lords. A brother who wanted it all... It made sense now. Even if you were yet to comprehend. Hal, the boy you danced with, ride with, love. Hal, the silent, smart, stoic boy who hides a sarcastic funny, sensible man. Hal, a King of the Land.

"You...?"

You turned to face him, but he - sheepish - wouldn't meet your gaze.

"You were the King."

A nod. Barely. More likely a bob of his head.

"And now you're not."

Hal pointed to a painting next to his own. So much bigger. So much Imposing. Another man, not as handsome as Hal, lacking the mettlesome, sharp look Hal bear in his eyes, without a benevolent, yet threatening smile like Hal's that gave way to his nature - born to rule, king to his subjects, merciless with his enemies.

"My brother," a small voice like you've never heard from him before spoke through an ocean of howling water. "The one the lords supported when he went after my throne."

His throne. He said it with so much longing, yet too much sufferance.

"Wait," realization seemed to sink in, "your brother, the nobles.. they poisoned you for him? He knew about it?"

Another bob of his head. An even smaller nod. As if strings attached to the back of his head pulled and pushed at the same time. Pain and anger.

"This duke supported them?"

"Likely so."

"Your portrait is the only one polished though."

Hal frowned. He hadn't notice it, but it was true. And it confused him.

But neither you, nor him had the time to elucidate the issue. The doors blew open once more and a short woman, wearing all black from the thin veil covering her face to the flat sole shoes, strode in. She marched to the huge chair, modeled to look like a throne. Before she could sit, however, her eyes slipped on Hal and she jumped as if the seat suddenly burned her.

A yelp echoed in the room, sharp and high. Through the layer resting over the duchesse's face you could see her eyes growing in size, lids hiding in the crests of her wrinkled skin.

"Prince... I mean King Harry, Your Majesty," she bowed so low her headdress brushed the floor's dales.

"Harry?" You mouthed to Hal, trying to laugh off the feeling of betrayal threatening to consume you.

But Hal didn't spare you a glance. An eyebrow raised, straightening his back and raising his chin higher, he waited for the duchesse to get up.

"You call me your king, but you mourn one of my killers."

"Oh, Your Majesty, please! I begged him not to do it..."

"And hanged the usurpator's portrait to shadow mine," Hal continued as if the woman didn't utter a word. Ever since you left with the Bright Circus you stopped paying attention to the more normal wordly things. Such as kings and succession. But you tried to remember now a time when you felt this type of power surging from one of your father's friends or the King himself when you visited the Court. And failed.

The way Hal talked without raising his voice, yet his will spread and overwhelmed everyone in the room... nothing could compare to it. You wanted to be upset, angry with him for hiding all of this from you. Sad he missed and enjoyed this life so obviously much. But you couldn't.

Watching him now, the satisfied curve of his lips, the fire in his eyes, the sweet speech with which he let the words fly... he was always beautiful. A Master of the night in disguise. Now he fit the immortal god part like a glove. And you found yourself falling for him even more.

"And with the money and power you got from it, you torture MY people," this time he let the rage slip in his tone. The duchesse flinched. A bright smile surprised you blooming on your lips.

"Your Majesty, I'm sorry. I didn't want it. This. I had to. I'm sorry. I polished your portrait in the hope you shall return one day. I always believed."

Hal glanced on the clustered window, covered with heavy satin drapes and colorful glass art. He managed to see what you sensed. Dawns of the new day coming soon.

You draw your lip between your teeth. There was no choice to be made, Hal will come back with you, rather he likes it or not. But you watched him in worry still. Bothered by the thought he may not want to return.

"If this is true, Duchesse, then do better than your husband. Govern these lands, these people, better. And don't be afraid to cut the roots of evil, whomever might be so. Your late husband would have dishonored an innocent girl," his voice lowered, eyes dreamy, "if I wouldn't have killed him. It was justice I served, a punishment he deserved. Lose the crape and begin the change. That's an order form your King."

"Yes, Your Majesty. At once, Your Majesty. Oh, this is such a blessed day! All my men are at your disposal, my king. Just giver the order and they'll stand behind you to take back your throne. I have enough friends that have been waiting for your return to form a strong army and..."

"I do no wish an army, Duchesse. As you know, I am bound to the Bright Circus. I cannot - will not - leave." Hal's eyes slid subtly to you, hand reached for a reassuring squeeze. The duchesse missed it, too baffled to pay attention to anything nut her working mind attempting to wrap around the news.

"But surely there must be a way to break the curse. There has to. I will find it, Your Majesty, I swear it to you. I will free you!"

"Only if you break hers too. Y/n's. If I shall be King, she's my only Queen."

'Twas the last thing he said before the familiar warmth enveloped your hugging bodies, taking you to your small new family of centuries, in a another part of the Land.

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wiredhouse · 4 months

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WIPs Intro

These are not very in depth descriptions of the stories, obviously, but I saw a lot of people doing this and it seemed fun. Only the first one is in active development, all the others are just close behind. I don't like talking too much about my WIPs, but any questions you may have about these you are welcome to shoot over to my askbox or privately message me.

DEATH AND STARS

By the age of six, the young princess had already been sworn off by law of the Church to marry a man threefold her age when she turns twelve. But before the horror of marriage could overtake her, tragedy strikes when the curious young girl wanders into the tomb of an undead king and falls victim to his blade. With no other consorts available to take her place, her brother--already far into adulthood--is brought into the royal family, and when the crown of kingship is placed upon his head, he seeks revenge over the pile of rotted flesh that murdered his sister. But the stars above are cruel, and when the king has his war, he finds that the witch sitting on the arm of the undead king's throne is not another monster of bones and disease. But his own sister, still bearing the decade-old fatal wound on her flesh like fine jewellery. The king is unable to act, but above their heads, one of the stars in the night sky begins to shift out of humanity's favour.

REPENTANCE AND CIRCUITS

Demon on the underground. The shadow. The pistol in the right hand of our Overlord. Many names we have given to the Inquisitor serving at the side of our Overlord, the sentient AI from beyond the veil that promises to guide us. But the Inquisitor, a lesser AI created by our Overlord, knows the names of all. Spies. Security systems. Home networks. The Inquisitor is given free reign to view and upload all of our information to its database to become the all seeing eye of our world. Yet even still—whispers speak of strangers' eyes flickering red and holding cybernetic systems too advanced for that given person. A rancher who lost his property to further development of our great city; a dark haired prostitute who knows exactly where to touch to get her clients to speak; a bartender that serves to the gangs in town. False humans. Drones of the wretched Inquisitor. But a malfunction has fallen over the Inquisitor, unknown even to its master. Memories pour into it that do not belong. The warmth of hand touching its cheek. A mother carrying it as a small child to bed. A comrade in a war sacrificing his own life to save it. A question has been planted in the mind of our Overlord's pet that should be impossible. Am I human, Master?

CONCRETE AND DECAY

When humanity first touched another star, one philosopher wrote that every generation of human beings will face a catastrophic event that could have been easily avoided with proper care and attention, and that the guilt caused by this catastrophe will haunt them until the void claims their soul. On the outer reaches of the galaxy, in a small solar system dominated by the working hands of miners and oilmen, a planet with air too toxic to breathe is being terraformed into a small Earth-like planet. Cities have already been established, and the largest population centre was about to reach 3 million residents. No one knew exactly how it happened--or maybe they were too fearful to speak of what they saw--but after the final year of terraformation was complete, a great disaster fell over the metropolis and rendered half of the planet inhospitable and the other half wrecked with famine and pollution. A group of researchers are hired by a third-party organization to explore into the depths of this ghost city and uncover the truth behind this disaster, but they soon come to realise that the guns brought with them are not for the stalkers hiding in skyscrapers--but for something far larger hiding in the ash.

#.txt #words #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing community #writers of tumblr #authors of tumblr

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pagiecakewritesstuff · 2 years

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3. MORPHEUS|DREAM OF THE ENDLESS X READER/OC

Assorodus meaning "silvery water".

Purpose may or may not exist, depending on our personal ideologies. The Endless know better though, they saw the entity prowling the lands before the beginning of history, and it was older than them. Not by much, a few eons maybe, arriving after the birth of the universe we know. For this being was strong and withered the coldness of the void until everything was created. First of Writers, the name it was given, for the inherent purpose of every breathing thing had to be formed in words. Whether we believe in it or not.

SERIES MASTERLIST

He balanced on the cliff's edge, a whirlwind of shifting forms, Kai'ckul then Dream, for me, for her, all the same. He kept doing it, even though she escaped to her death minutes ago, long enough to register. I heard him shout across the channels of time and I abandoned my work in progress like I received an order. I wasn't sure why, what condemned me to act so abruptly. He wasn't calling for me specifically, nor did he need an exact person at the moment. What reached me was an exclamation of pain and inertness. Then came the flitting parchment in the wind, strange, uncompleted purpose, yet still ongoing. Partly I convinced myself that this was the reason I travelled so fast.

Shifting his eyes between me and the mangled body on the rocks, his black coat violently flapped in the wind, a gown of a defeated king. I could imagine his crown tumbling after her. He was surprised to find me by his side, his face told it all, he must have expected his sister first. Finally, his angry gaze settled on me, jaw clenched, ready to outburst. He made the connections and invented a reason in his head for my arrival. I foresaw that he will call me to account, questioning whether this was the purpose I had given Nada at birth. The purpose of turning him down and breaking his heart.

"Did everything go as you planned?" I let him blame me, and he regretted it later with a silent apology. He was never good at saying those out loud.

"I think so." Pebbles fell from the great height by my strides as I took my place next to him, he sidestepped, avoiding my closeness even. "Her song is not dead yet, she still has things to do."

He must have thought I'm joking with him, turning against him as his sister-brother did sometimes, an elaborate jest just to make him scarred. With furiously shaking fingers he pointed down as if I didn't notice his past lover laying there before in a grotesque assortment of limbs and brain matter.

"Why then?" For a fleeting moment, I believed he would grab and shake me, not much, just to make himself feel a bit better. Why losing our second love hurts much more? We must assume that once we are past the pain it can't happen again, that we are somehow shielded from it, prepared for what's about to happen. Then reality hits like a slap to the face and we realize that we are not at all ready.

Morpheus wouldn't have hurt me of course.

“I can’t say for certain, my best guess would be to teach a lesson that you must learn.”

Stars blazed in his eyes, swimming over his blue irises, engulfing them in darkness, like ink on water. He seemed so sure that I’m mocking him, but that was far from the truth. He was young, not as preceptive.

“So you have taken it upon yourself to educate me?” Shadows curled around him, bent at his will as invisible pawns. I felt like he might have tossed us into a dream on his whim, cleverly disguised as reality to gain the upper hand for an assault that was never coming. Only I would have still had enough power to free myself, but I found no spell to get rid of. The mortal plane took his side and lent him its shadows. “Shall I remind you who I am?”

“No need, King of Dreams.” He pushed me too far. My hand lashed out, grabbing onto the hair at the nape of his neck. I pulled him close with just enough force so that I don’t hurt him, but render him unable to escape the situation. “Do I need to ask you the same question?”

Dream struggles, tilting his head up defiantly, however, I held him with more than just my arm or physical force. Compared to the form I had chosen to appear in he was much taller, almost by a whole head. I waited for him to settle.

“No,” he groaned then.

“What have you done to her?” Regret flashed in his vision, disappearing fast and without a trace. It wouldn’t have been him if he didn’t stand by his choices.

“A fault in your plans?” Testing me, he knew how dangerous I could be, he saw my wrath, though he was undoubtful that I wouldn’t turn against him. “Or perhaps in my brother’s? Destiny sent you?”

“You tread perilous grounds Morpheus. Answer.”

“I condemned her to hell,” he hissed. I let him go, fingers still brushing against his neck. He didn’t take the free step back, labouring breaths and all. He stood his ground. “She abashed me.”

“As I suspected. And you of course have no fault in this.” His head nodded forward, chin hitting his sternum. From under his brows, the two swirling sea eyes tried to read me. “I never saw a purpose that is to be fulfilled in the afterlife, how strange.”

“Is this Desire’s doing? Like Killala was?”

“Wouldn’t be a lesson if I were to tell you, would it?”

His mask of anger fractured, turning into dust and he let the wind carry it away. It dawned on him that without Nada he was alone again.

“Come to the Dreaming with me.” He spoke low, as if afraid that the desert would take notice of his solicitation. “I find myself in need of your company, First of Writers.”

I smiled at him sweetly.

“It’s best for you to be alone now, Dream of the Endless.”

Lucienne notified me, not him. Almost a century after and he didn’t let me know. I went to visit, only to find his cage broken and empty and he would have let me worry until I find my way to his realm. Then a raven came from me out of the sky, he did say his name, Matthew, and he was tasked to pull me into the Dreaming. But not because Morpheus asked him, the request was made by the palace’s forever librarian.

He either expects me or Lucienne told him I will be coming, as I find the ivory gates now standing slightly ajar, so I waste no time. The sea bordering his domain is still murky and white strings of bacteria cling to the shore’s black sand. I enter, stumbling onto a rocky path. It must have been cobblestone once, now it's uneven and broken up. I know this land from long eons ago and it was not fashioned like this. I’ve seen these rolling hills when they were blooming with eternal spring and with a boat fabricated by clouds and rain I drifted down the river to the doors watched by the three guardians. A gryphon, a drake and a pegasus. When I halt for a moment to take in the landscape I faintly perceive a dry riverbed. There is nothing I’ve written here, for all of this does not exist in the waking world. But dreams sing too. Or at least they should.

As I cross the distance between us Lucienne falls into my awaiting arms. Her suffering must have been close to equal to her master’s, abandoned in a kingdom without a ruler. Hastily she excuses herself and straightens, suit and glasses immaculate as always. She looks deeply into my eyes and almost begins to speak, but I cut her short. Certain matters can’t wait.

“So he is back.” I hush like I’m about to gossip, the tall marble hall’s walls reverberate every sound. Maybe the guardians outside, frozen into stone, listen.

“Not long ago I found him laying in the sand at the shores.” She confirms, then whispers too. “Dare I ask what happened exactly?”

“That’s no story I can tell you, Lucienne. Ask your lord, he might one day. When he is ready.”

“I've been nothing but tactful, I assure you.” The librarian leads me towards a lanced archway, opening to a corridor which serves as a gallery of some, with all sorts of impossible paintings of night and time pushing away from each other in the wake of a crazed star. In the chaos a ship sails towards reality, no, someone thrusts it forward instead. The image tugs on my memory, a member of a long-dead race's teeth flashes in my mind. A vortex. There was a girl too, Hope. I quickly ignore it and focus on Lucienne.

"I'm sure you were." Escaped from the strange visions I force a smile, though it's still shadowed by our looming situation. We walk through a collapsed Dreaming, it's monarch the same as broken. "Tell me, how is he?"

"Restless, my..." She thinks better and doesn't let on what form she sees me in at the moment. Her eyes linger on me. "He should rest, he is weak."

"Foolish man," I mutter and Lucienne smirks. "He will not be happy about it, but I will talk to him."

"That's why I sent for you. Your bond is," she thinks for a second. "Special."

"Even that might not be enough." We pass a window made of colourful shards of glass, the composition depicts Fiddler's Green, what he was. "Morpheus might not realize this, but even he needs to be shown the right way sometimes."

"He is horrible at accepting help and at asking for it too."

"He always was. Some say that the only person he would accept help from is himself. I might be able to change that, at least for today. Tomorrow is another question. But I can always try to win him over twice."

Finally, we make it to the throne room. I have to surpass a gasp threatening to escape my lips. What the Lord of the Dreaming spent ages to build is all gone, the ceiling caved in and the starry night sky drapes over above us, contrary to the gloomy sun outside. I watch my step around the scattered debris, reminders of an old time, waiting to be removed, reused. Lucienne stays by the door sill, willing to give us privacy. Ornate clustered columns stand, bearing the memory of now non-existent flying buttresses. Stones levitate through the air, where the side aisle's ribbed vaults once were. The upper gallery torn down just carved details left of it. The leaf of a flower, the head of an ox charging towards a wyvern, only wings, no body. I know the gothic church where he borrowed the inspiration from for these architectural wonders, I showed it to him. Now he is perching on the unscathed stairs leading to his throne, fully dressed, dark folds encompassing his skeletal body. He watches from his seat intently as I approach. I think he has an idea about what speech I prepared for him, but what he gets wrong is that I'm not here to lecture. I know this by being his friend since he existed, there are rarely any secrets to be found between us. I can see into his toughts as much as he can into mine.

Without invitation, I join him on the steps and I'm above him until he decides to stand tall, a ray of black booming clouds. He presents himself as proud again with the dignity of a monarch, but I can still point out the bruises under his cape, hidden in the most secured layers of his soul. His faith in humanity faltered, rightfully so, though how he will be able to serve them like this now? This is no way to go. I don't plan to guide him back to a better route right away, he needs time to heal and after all, he is completely capable of figuring out things by himself. I’m here, so he has someone to lean onto.

He speaks like a lord.

"I expected you will turn up eventually." Oh, he is stern, he doesn't want to be bothered and I would be content to leave if this wasn't necessary. "Much later though."

"I expected you to send for me at least. Leave me a message maybe?" A growl flares up in his chest, and his eyes hang on the starry sky above, searching for constellations to curse me with. I step up, we are almost the same height. "Or I had hoped for too much after being by your side for a century?"

"And I thank you for that." My closeness makes him back off, he turns to leave the throne room, just with that he is sure he can get rid of me. "But I have things to attend to. As you probably already noticed my realm is in shambles, my subjects are on their own. If I have any left of them."

"You think I don't see it? See into you as deep as your heart." He halts, and I walk up to him. "You are hunched, your spine curved, every vertebra moulded to the trajectory of your cage. And you think I'd miss this?"

My hand finds the nape of his neck, drawing circles on his skin there. His hair gained back a bit of shine. From the side of my vision, I see Lucienne leaving the doorway. Morpheus involuntarily leans into my touch, closes his eyes, and surrenders himself to the sensation. He draws a shaky breath, the electricity of pleasure spasms in his veins, locking his body into a motionless effigy of himself. Just like that, I came out on top.

"All I ask from you is to rest for a while. A day at least."

"How could I?" He lets me keep caressing him. "The symbols of my power, they were stolen, I have to find them. I can't rebuild while they are missing."

"The Dreaming can wait for a day, it won't change anything." I gently remove his coat, it falls to the ground, and pools at our ankles like liquid obsidian. "Come and rest. Please."

I grab his hand and pull him towards a side exit patiently so he can will what's about to materialize behind the door. He doesn't protest. We turn up in his chamber, vast and airy. To stretch, to breathe. With windows so the oxygen never runs out. I lead him to the bed, king-sized, the ebony duvet is without wrinkles from waiting to be used for years. We stand next to it, eye to eye, his fingers intertwined with mine. He hesitates.

“Do you want to be alone?”

“No. I wish for your company.”

In unison we climb under the covers, his head finds its place over my heart to listen to its rhythmic counsel, our feet are touching, his much colder than mine. I shouldn't let him this close, but part of me wants to. It's not that we couldn't love each other, but he is an Endless and I'm something even more ancient. Neither of us can be distracted from our tasks by romance. He longs for partnership that I can't give and I have to admit to myself, that I'm scared. One if not both of us would only end up hurting. Is that worth it for a short interruption of boundless love?

"Why?" He is starved for touch, ardently searches for my warmth, his arm sneaks around my torso, afraid I might refuse. “Have I asked you this before? Why?”

"Why what?" I smooth his locks out of his face, his features sublime. "Rest now."

"Why stay by my side if you do not harbour feelings for me as I do? Am I not tiring?” Speaking into the crook of my neck he presses closer. “Why did you come here?"

"I do love you." He shudders, he heard this before, never in a way, he would have liked.

"You tear into me every time you say this, yet I still find you more beautiful than anything."

"In which one of my forms?" My nails scrape down his back, his muscles quivering, spine arching to meet my touch.

"In every one of them."

One day. Maybe one day, when the universe doesn't need us as it does now. I can be his and he can be mine.

“Rest Dream Lord. Rest, I will wake you when the time is right.”

#netflix #morpheus x reader #reader insert #dream x oc #sandman #dream x reader #fic:assorodus

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linasofia · 2 years

Text

Starflowers

Relationship: Obi-Wan Kenobi x OC Eliise

Fandom: Star Wars

Summary: Obi-Wan travels to Alderaan for a diplomatic meeting but on the way he meets someone he could not have foreseen.

Words: 4,1K

Warnings: 18+

A/N: My first attempt to write for this fandom. This fic is vaguely inspired by the new Obi-Wan Kenobi series and takes place approximately ten years after the massacre that followed Order 66.

Thanks @legolasbadass & @lathalea for your support! 💙💙

The old cargo ship slowly made its way down to the landing dock and Obi-Wan grasped the handle on his seat harder. It had been a very long time since he last set foot on Alderaan, or anywhere except the endless sandy landscape of Tatooine. Hiding from the never-resting evil, in the harsh world of the Outer Rim, had made him a suspicious man. Over time he lost contact with the Force and struggled to accept that the life of the Jedi was no longer his. He was lonely, trusted nobody, and very rarely visited one of the few friends from the past who knew he was still alive. Drawing attention to himself was not something he wanted and he knew he took a risk every time he left the relatively safe hiding place out in the desert. But when Bail Organa unexpectedly pleaded for his help in a complicated and highly sensitive matter, Obi-Wan found it impossible to reject him. Deep down, he knew that he could not hide from his destiny. Dressed in worn clothes, and with the only weapon he owned hidden underneath, he boarded the cargo ship, which would take him to his destination.

Alderaan was just as beautiful as he remembered. Its snowy peaks and green forests, together with the great Cloudshape Falls, could all be seen clearly from the sky. When Obi-Wan finally stood on the ground and breathed the fresh and almost crispy air, so very different from the warm desert air his lungs had grown used to, he felt a small tingle in the skin on his face. He did not remove his large hood—it provided him shelter from curious eyes—before he started the long walk from the dock to the Royal Palace. He didn’t want to be seen more than necessary so he avoided the usual and more formal way of arriving at the Mountain Palace.

The path Obi-Wan chose led him along the outline of the forest and over open fields. Alderaan's sun moved gracefully over the sky as he walked and when the shadows grew longer and the light became more golden, he finally saw the city of Aldera and the Royal Palace. An unwelcome wave of insecurity washed over him. He was not the strong Jedi he used to be. When Bail reached out to him, Obi-Wan had tried to explain that, but his old friend wanted him to come nevertheless. With the sun hanging low over the palace, its towers and spires sparkled like rare stones coming from deep within the snow-capped mountains towering behind the palace.

Obi-Wan looked at the vast expanse of the lake in front of him. The Palace and part of the city overlooked its blue waters and he would have to walk around the lake since no transport could be seen. What he would give for a bath or shower right now. The water was glittering and appeared almost turquoise when it reflected the sky. A memory stirred in him, something about the lake being very deep and not as warm as it was easy to believe. He smiled to himself; Queen Breha had told him that many years ago, when he first came to visit Alderaan. It felt like a lifetime ago. Back then, time had not yet created small valleys around his eyes, and his hairline had not begun to move higher on his forehead. Obi-Wan was not vain, he was still too much of a Jedi for that; it was just an impartial reflection on the passage of time. Lost in old memories, his feet carried him almost to the shore of the lake before he noticed that another person was kneeling by the water. A woman, dark-haired, with her hair braided and wrapped around her head into a crown, was washing her hands in the clear water. Next to her lay a large bouquet of starflowers. She had not seen him yet and for a second he thought about leaving unseen, but as he took another step, a branch broke under his weight. The sound made the woman turn to him. At first, he could read fear in her eyes and she had every right to think the worst of him. He knew he was not very presentable-looking in his worn clothes, with an unkempt beard and dirty hands. He held up his hands in a gesture he hoped signaled that he had no foul intentions, showing the traces of his long journey.

”I’m sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I just need to wash my hands and face.”

She gave him a careful smile, held her guard up, but nodded. It made sense.

”It’s ok. I was lost in my own thoughts; it’s not your fault I didn’t hear you coming this way.”

Obi-Wan kneeled beside her, keeping a respectful distance. The water was indeed colder than it looked, but it felt heavenly as he patted his face with his wet palms. He could feel the woman watching him.

”It would be easier to clean your face if you removed your hood,” she said with a small laugh in her voice. Apparently, she had decided that he was no threat to her. He considered her words. She was right of course and he really needed to freshen up a little before he met his hosts. With two hands he grabbed the hood and pulled it back. Then he lowered his hands to the water, formed them into a bowl and splashed the cold water over his face. He gave a pleased sigh. Another splash of water on his neck and it ran in a chilling stream down under his tunic. He continued to clean himself up as much as he could and when done, he stretched his back and stood up. So did she.

The woman met his gaze and when she looked back at him he could swear he felt the ground move under him. Her beautiful almond-shaped eyes were of a rare blue color, the same color as the starflowers she held in her hand. She looked at him with interest, like she was mapping his face in her memory, and for a second she glanced at his lips, before she averted her eyes with a shy smile. For the first time in ages, Obi-Wan struggled to find words. He wanted to compliment her, but had no words for it. So instead he asked for the only thing he could think of: her name.

”Eliise.” When she spoke, she met his gaze again and Obi-Wan felt the overwhelming feeling of helplessness, for the gravity in her eyes was beyond anything he had experienced before. As a Master Jedi, he had never allowed himself to indulge in any activity that could make him lose focus on the path he had taken, but now, as he stared into the depth of Eliise’s starflower-colored eyes, he felt something.

”Eliise,” he repeated and her name felt strangely right when it rolled off his tongue. She smiled innocently at him but Obi-Wan did not miss the way her eyes shifted slightly when he said her name.

”You are not from here, if I'm not mistaken?”

”No, I’m not. I’m only here for a short visit at… a friend’s place.” Obi-Wan stopped himself before he said too much. He just met the woman, there was no need to tell her that he was a personal guest of Bail Organa, highly respected senator of Alderaan and his wife, Queen Breha.

”I see,” she said with a badly hidden disappointed look in her expressive eyes. Then, as though a thought just appeared in her mind, she gave him a faint smile again. ”Aldera is my home, it’s all I have ever known. I have never traveled beyond our borders. I am a free woman, but the right opportunity has never appeared.”

Obi-Wan thought he saw a hint of sadness in her eyes. Maybe it was the thought of missed opportunities, lost moments of adventures or the feeling of being stuck in the same place that clouded her eyes for a second. ”I’m sorry, I talk too much,” she then added and Obi-Wan wondered what she really wanted to say. He thought of walking away, to ignore the unfamiliar feeling that spread in his chest and the increasing drumming of his heart, but he found himself unable to turn his back on her.

”Perhaps you want some company on the way back, may I escort you?” he offered with what he hoped was a comforting smile. ”It is my humble opinion that you don’t talk too much. In fact, I would like to hear more, if the thought doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”

She smiled warmly back at him. ”I will gladly accept your company.”

The road gradually changed the closer they came to the palace and nature gave room to the city of Aldera. Eliise talked about her life in the city, about places she liked, where one could find the best meals, for a reasonable payment, and where art and music could be enjoyed. It did not take long before her hand brushed repeatedly against his as they walked closer to each other. It was an innocent touch but he sensed there was something else in the air, something unspoken happened as they continued their unhurried walk. Obi-Wan spoke very little about himself, skillfully steered her away from any personal subjects and answered only questions regarding his thoughts and taste in different things. He liked her soft feminine voice, its melody was charming and he wanted the conversation to last longer when she suddenly stopped outside a small two-floored house. She nodded at the house. ”This is where I live, on the second floor. The old man I rent from is a kind man and for a few extra credits, he asks no questions about my personal life.” She lowered her voice to a whisper as she leaned closer to him. ”You have not even told me your name, but here I am, ready to invite you to my home. I have never done this before, please tell me that I’m crazy, but something about you makes me feel so relaxed and yet so… curious.”

Her eyes, this time filled with a longing he was not sure he could live up to, made him hesitate. Speechless, he looked back at her, her directness came as a surprise and once again he was unable to find the right words. She shifted and waited while the inner struggle tore Obi-Wan between wanting to follow her inside and the fear of doing something he, or both of them, would regret later. There was no doubt in her eyes, no room for misunderstanding. He briefly thought about the meeting he was supposed to attend the following day, as an adviser in a very sensitive situation. He knew that Bail would not be at his disposal on this particular evening, for the senator told him so during their last contact. It mattered little if he arrived later that night, as long as he was in place for breakfast. An embarrassed look fell over Eliise’s face. ”I’m sorry, I assumed too much.” She took a step to the side and Obi-Wan could see how she inhaled deeply. ”Thank you for your company. I wish you a pleasant stay in Aldera.” Her voice sounded weirdly neutral and the change in her body language finally caused him to react.

“You can call me Ben,” he said softly, but without making a move to stop her.

She watched him for a moment, like she was weighing his words and the meaning of them on a scale. He could tell that his own insecurity made her hesitate. She probably thought he was only mildly interested in her, but Obi-Wan's problem lay not in his level of interest. The lost connection with the Force had made him doubt himself in all the ways a man possibly can. Intimcity was never something he thought about, but now, as Eliise looked at him with a new hope in her beautiful eyes, he felt both tempted and frightened.

”Ben,” she tried his name. ”Would you like to come inside? I have refreshments, and fruit if you want.” Obi-Wan swallowed hard. What she offered sounded innocent but the afternoon sun made her skin glow and he caught himself thinking of how it would feel to run his fingertips over her cheek. He nodded slowly.

Eliise’s home was small but pretty, just like the woman living there. The feminine touch in tiny details made the place very personal. She liked the color blue, Obi-Wan noticed as he looked around the main room. A tray with cold drinks stood on a small table and she lifted a glass and offered him one. He was thirsty and drank greedily. Before he could put the glass back on the tray, she took the glass from him, her fingers gently caressing his as they met. ”Thank you,” he mumbled, unable to think of anything but her sensual lips as she put her own glass to her mouth and drank. As she swallowed the cold drink in a series of small sips, he watched her throat’s movements. Heat spread in the lower parts of his body at the sight of her drinking and he briefly questioned if what he felt was normal. He was, of course, well aware of the strong attraction two people could build, and he was not inexperienced in the matter. His doubts were only directed to his own abilities, it had been a long time since he touched a woman. Too long, he thought as she took a step closer to him.

Her lips were soft against his, she tasted sweet, like newly collected berries, and when she finally ran her small hands through the hair on his neck, he wrapped his arms around her. It made her moan softly against his lips and she deepened the kiss. Her tongue met his and when her body asked him to dance, he followed her blindly. Lost in his lust for her, he didn’t protest when she unclasped his cloak. It fell to the floor and revealed his tunic, and the belt where his only protection was attached. Too late he realized that she instantly recognized the item. Eliise stared at him in disbelief. ”Have I invited a Jedi, or maybe a Bounty Hunter with a taste for robbing his objects, to my bed?”

Obi-Wan looked back at her, she demanded the truth but there was no judgement in her eyes. He sighed. ”I’m no Bounty Hunter.”

Her eyes widened. ”I can’t believe it. We are always told that the Jedis are almost extinct.”

”Almost,” Obi-Wan echoed.

Eliise pressed herself tightly against him again. ”It makes no difference for me. I still want you to be here.” Her smile was genuine and inviting and Obi-Wan covered her lips with his. It didn’t matter that she knew, he could not turn back now. Her dress joined his cloak on the floor and the sight of her naked body made him groan quietly. Her skin had been kissed by the sun on many occasions and her body looked stronger than he had expected. With trembling hands he started to remove his belt and the tunic. When he came to his trousers, he hesitated. As though Eliise could sense it, she placed her hand over his and squeezed it. The heat from her body transferred to him and with gentle hands she helped him out of his last piece of clothes. Then she took his hand and led him to her bed. When she pulled him down with her on the soft pillows, he marveled at how comfortable she made him feel, but the feeling of self-doubt simultaneously spread rapidly in his body.

”Eliise.” Obi-Wan whispered, like he was afraid to scare her away. He felt so strong and weak at the same time and he needed to speak his mind. ”I…I’m not the man I once was. I’m not sure I can give you what you desire.”

She gave him a reassuring smile. ”Are you trying to tell me it’s been a while?”

”A very long time,” he answered honestly. ”Please, don’t expect too much from me. I am nothing but a simple man.” He avoided her gaze in a sudden feeling of embarrassment.

”Ben,” she said softly and with a hand on his bearded cheek she turned his face so she could look him in the eyes again. ”I wanted you here before I knew you were a Jedi, that has not changed,” she purred. ”I don’t expect more, in any way, because of who you are. Please believe me.” She sealed her words with a series of tender kisses. Then her kisses became more heated and soon she pulled herself on top of him. She straddled him, captured him between her slender thighs and leaned forward to continue kissing him. Obi-Wan ran his hands along her back, caressed the softness of her hips and groaned when she arched her back, causing her to push her lower body closer to his growing hardness. At least that part of his body was not completely broken.

Eliise moved slowly over him and he could feel the feminine heat from the peak between her thighs as she softly grinded against his smooth skin. Obi-Wan moaned at the contact and held her tighter. But she didn’t want to be held still, she was eager in his embrace and knew what she wanted. While her starflower-colored eyes looked like the sun itself shone in them, she adjusted her hips so the top of his shaft pressed against her slick opening. He could feel her need as she moved and for a second Obi-Wan was afraid he would not be able to control the wave of heat welling up in his body. Pure lust sang in his veins and he saw the same need in her eyes, when the burning desire for her exploded under his skin. He trembled, unprepared for the storm of emotions her naked body evoked. Eliise seemed unafraid of the feelings she set free and without a word she opened up to him like one of her starflowers opened its petals to the sun. With a soft moan, she sank down over him and his fingers gripped harshly at the softness of her hips. She hissed his name and a surprised smile graced her beautiful face as he could feel her body’s desperate attempt to adjust to him. Buried deep inside her, he was allowed to feel it all and the sensation made him expectantly caress her thighs. Her slickness coated him and when she tentatively rocked her hips against him, he saw stars.

Her hair fell down from its braided creation and dark locks danced around her face in sync with her body’s movements. Obi-Wan looked up at her and the sight of her visual pleasure together with the steady rocking of her body was almost too much for him. Eliise seemed to know her body well, for she easily found the right angle and rhythm, and then used them to chase what she wanted. Soon her breathing became ragged and she increased the friction between them. Obi-Wan felt her clench hard around his length but fought his first instinct to follow her. He was not done with her yet. When she shattered over him, he pulled her close and held her trembling body to his chest. As her breathing finally slowed down, she looked at him and met his lips in a sweet kiss. Obi-Wan ran his hand through her now loose hair and it felt like exclusive threads of silk against his palm.

With little effort he rolled her over and covered her body with his. His shaft was throbbing and hard as the finest beskar, but he took his time with her and savored the moment. Obi-Wan rested his hands on either side of Eliise’s head and watched her intensively as he slowly entered her again. A lovely whimper fell from her lips when she once again was stretched around his girth. Her starflower-colored eyes appeared to be rounder when he drove himself deep into her tightness and she grabbed his upper arms as he began to thrust against her. Obi-Wan’s initial self-doubt was lost somewhere between her pleading moans and the steady pace he set. His nature’s instinct was stronger than his mind and his body remembered exactly what it was required to do. As he watched Eliise’s fascinating reactions to the movement of his hips, he became aware of all the small details that exposed her pleasure and he wanted to remember them. The noises she made, the way her fingernails scratched his shoulders when he hit her most sensitive spot and how her eyes burned with need as he lowered himself to place heated kisses on her neck.

Eliise was close, he could feel her body tense in anticipation and this time he wanted to follow her all the way. With his blood boiling in his vein, Obi-Wan focused all his efforts on the movement he quickly learned gave her the greatest pleasure. When her moans eventually turned to a cry, and the sound of his name filled the room, he let go. Long years of tension lifted from his chest as he gave her all he had. The feeling of relief was more intense than he remembered. He collapsed over her, heavily panting, and when she finally released him from her tight hug, he rolled down on his back beside her. He pulled her closer to him and came to rest with her head on his arm. With his free hand he caressed her soft skin and she placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. She was warm and smelled of flowers, even now after their lusty moment.

They rested in silence. Eliise absently played with the hair on his chest and he liked the feeling of her fingers slowly moving over his skin. No words were needed between them and when the room finally grew darker, Obi-Wan reluctantly broke the silence. ”I really should get going. I was expected to arrive much earlier, but now it’s time for me to continue my walk, alone.”

Eliise looked at him with sadness in her eyes. ”I understand,” she then said. ”You can’t let the senator wait?”

”How did you..?” Obi-Wan went silent, he had said too much.

”I did not. But when a Jedi suddenly shows up on Alderaan, he is not here to visit some old friend. Maybe, if that friend also happens to be of great importance. And you just confirmed it.”

Obi-Wan sighed. He was a fool, like so many other men trapped under the spell of a beautiful woman.

”Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.” She smiled at him again and patted his arm. ”Perhaps you should get yourself ready.”

They rose from the bed and got their clothes on faster than Obi-Wan preferred. He wouldn’t have minded staying longer but it was getting late and he was on a mission. And he needed to sleep after the long trip if he was going to be the best he could the following day. Bail deserved nothing but the best. He believed in Obi-Wan, he always had, even now, when not even Obi-Wan believed in himself. But as he looked into Eliise’s eyes for what he assumed was the final time, he realized that he was a changed man. His back was a little straighter, he held his head a little higher. Somehow she managed to give him something he could not have found on his own. Gratitude filled his heart and he leaned in to give her a final kiss. He had nothing else to offer her. No promises nor words of comfort. When he reached for the handle to her door, she suddenly placed one of her small delicate hands on his arm. ”Wait!”

She was gone for only a short moment and when she returned she held a blue flower in her hand. Most of its long stalk was removed, only the flower remained. She placed it in his hand. ”Take this, maybe it will keep you safe. Maybe you will look at it and think of me.” He placed the little starflower in his hidden pocket and it made her smile at him one final time. Then Eliise hugged him and Obi-Wan briefly closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He would forever remember her scent.

When he stepped out on the street, Obi-Wan pulled his hood up and made sure his cloak covered the only evidence of who he really was. To his surprise the lightsaber felt less heavy now. He looked up at the dark sky where thousands of stars created beautiful patterns. For the first time ever, they made him think of flowers on a meadow. He smiled to himself. Eliise smelled like starflowers.

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why-am-i-here-someone-save-me · 2 years

Note

Because you answering our question, could I ask a question about Khaenria'h (Jeez, that name is hard to write-) our more specifically the characters associated with it? Wasn't it a godless City? Why would they be on Creators Side in Sagau because yeah, I just roll with it but I am still confused

🐍

Okay so based on the world quests that were added in the Enyokimiya update, we were all but explicitly told that the reason Orabashi was banished to Enyokimiya was because of learning ‘forbidden knowledge’. During the library restoration questline, we recover one particular book from a sinshade who was killed by a ruin machine after chasing a group of Khaenria’h emissaries who had stolen a book.

The book we recovered?

‘Before Sun and Moon’

Its description?

‘A chronicle that ordinary folk have been forbidden to read. The writing is a mix of fables and histories from the beginning of the world to the creation of the Dainichi Mikoshi.’

What it says?

What we wish to record is the tale of how heaven's will took shape on the earth below. O heavenly gods, these creations are your works. Grant us divine wisdom — let us endlessly record!

"When the Doves Held Branches"

When the eternal throne of the heavens came, the world was made anew. Then the true lord, the Primordial One, came forth and did battle against the seven terrifying sovereigns, dragon-lords of the old world. The Primordial One created shining shades of itself, and the number of these shades was four.

"On Phanes, or The Primordial One"

The Primordial One may have been Phanes. It had wings and a crown, and was birthed from an egg, androgynous in nature. But for the world to be created, the egg's shell had to be broken. However, Phanes, the Primordial One, used the eggshell to separate the "universe" and the "microcosm of the world."

"Forty Years After the Held Branches"

Forty winters entombed the flames, and forty summers churned the seas. The Seven Sovereigns were vanquished, and the seven nations submitted to the heavens. The Primordial One, the great sovereign, began the creation of heaven and earth for "our" sake — that of its creations which it cherished most, who would soon appear upon this earth.

...

"Four Hundred Years After the Held Branches"

The mountains and rivers were made, and the seas and oceans accepted those who rebelled and those who would not kneel. The Primordial One and one of its shades created the birds of the air, the beasts of the earth, and the fish of the sea. Together, they also created flowers, grass, and trees, before finally creating humans — our ancestors, numerous as the stars in the sky, uncountable as the sand on the shore. From that time, our ancestors made a covenant with the Primordial One, and so entered into a new age.

"The Year of the Ark's Opening"

The Primordial One had a sacred plan for humans. As long as they were happy, it too rejoiced.

"The Year After the Ark's Opening"

The people worked the land, and so came the first harvest. The people mined, and so reaped the first crop of precious ore. The people gathered, and the first poems were written.

"The Year of Jubilee"

If there was hunger, the heavens would bring down food and rain. If there was poverty, the earth would bring forth its riches. If melancholy were to spread, the heavens would reply with their voices. The one taboo was to succumb to temptation. But the path to temptation had already been sealed.

...

"The Funerary Year"

The second throne of the heavens came, and war was rekindled, as it was in the world's creation. That day, the heavens collapsed and the earth was rent asunder. Our ancestors and their ancestral land fell into this place during that conflict.

The era of darkness had begun.

"The First Year of Darkness"

The people of the Seven Sovereigns had found refuge in the oceans, and the Dragonheirs of the Depths ruled this particular place, which led to war between them and our ancestors.

Our ancestors chased them into the shadows with the light of a thousand lanterns, and they hid in those shadows, hunting us. But there was only darkness in this place, and so their hunting grounds were untrammeled.

The prayers of the people turned into lamentations, but the Primordial One and its three other shining shades could not hear.

"The Parable of the Sun"

In a dark cavern, there lived a group of people who had never seen the light. Among them was a sage who had once seen the sun, and he told the gathered folk about what life under the sun was like, and about the great might of the sun. Seeing that they did not comprehend, he lit a torch — and thus did people come to worship the flame, believing it to be the sun. They even got used to a life of darkness and fire.

When the sage died, someone would monopolize the flame. Using it, they would cast a long shadow over the land.

"The Parable of the Lethied Lotus"

A lotus that causes all who look upon it to forget their troubles. A ship captain searching for the way back to the surface discovered a tribe of people who ate these lotuses. Some crew members stayed in that place. Others rejected that temptation.

Life is a boundless ocean of suffering. We are only searching for the way home.

"The Third Year of Darkness"

We knew the only one who had not forsaken us as the "Ruler of Time." She was the moment. She was every moment. She was the measure of a thousand winds and the sun and the moon. She was every second of joy, every moment of rage, every instant of longing, every minute of obsession. She was every flash of delirium.

We call her Kairos, or "the ruler of the unchanging world." We dare not speak her true, secret name, and so I pen it here, only once, and in reverse: "Htoratsi."

"The Year of Blindness"

The sage Abrax's wisdom was awakened, and he unveiled a light-bringing miracle from within his hands. So our ancestors began to build the Helios, with him as their leader.

"The Year of Sight, or the First Year of Sun and Moon"

Helios, the divine chariot of the sun, was finally completed. The Whitenight came, and Evernight was banished.

The years of the Sun and Moon had begun.

"The Second Year of Sun and Moon"

Our ancestors sought the returning way, for surely the war on the surface had ended by then.

But the Primordial One, the first throne, had laid down a ban, preventing our ancestors from finding the path home.

In that case, the Primordial One must have defeated the Second Who Came.

Abrax was imprisoned by order of the Sunchild.

"The Parable of the Tree"

The king's gardener and the tree spirit of the royal garden were in love. But the king wished to repair the beams of his pavilion, and so needed to cut down the tree with the most spiritual energy within it. The king was the incarnation of the Primordial One, and the gardener could not defy the sovereign of sovereigns, and so he could only bring his plea to the king's priest, who was the incarnation of Tokoyo Ookami.

The priest had pity on the gardener and said to him: "Go, and cut the branches of the spirit-tree down." The gardener did so, and afterward did as the king ordered, cutting the spirit-tree itself down.

Then the priest said: "Plant the spirit-tree's branches in the ground." But the gardener said: "A spirit-tree shall take five hundred years to grow." The priest said: "Your one thought shall echo through eternity." And so the gardener planted the branches in his back yard. In an instant, the slim branches grow into a new tree, and the new tree spirit was a continuation of the past one.

For it is the God of Moments who is able to take "seeds" from this "moment" into the past and the future.

The Tenth Year of Sun and Moon

Abrax is long gone. The events before the sun and the moon have been recorded sufficiently. Well, if I did not dare to write things down just as they happened, how could I consider myself a scribe of Tokoyo Ookami?

Hark, I hear armor without. Here, I shall stop writing.

I’ve highlighted the most pertinent parts in red.

So what we learn in the book is a ton of information, most of which has little context, but that still points to one overarching conclusion;

1. Celestia’s gods are NOT Teyvat’s gods, but rather usurpers acting as though they are.

2. Orabashi discovered this, and Celestia banished Orabashi to keep its secret safe.

3. The people of Khanria’h discovered the SAME forbidden knowledge that Oribashi had, likely leading to the occurrence of the cataclysm.

However, because of this, we know that because the Godless nation did not follow Celestia’s gods, but DID know of Teyvat’s original divine, they could have very well decided to follow them instead of Celestia’s ‘deities’.

#luci answers #anon ask #🐍 anon #genshin lore

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honourablejester · 2 years

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Spelljammer Character Concept: Reborn GOOlock

An endgame (15th level) GOOlock concept following on a bit from this post about ideas from spelljammer characters. This one is the dubiously sane inhabitant of a shipwreck in the Astral Sea, a strange, cobbled-together creature with cobbled-together memories, searching for mysteries and a purpose in life. Warlock, because I rather wanted that ‘haunted shipwreck’ sort of feel, this giddy loon you find stashed in some drifting, blackened wreck, muttering to (hopefully) itself.

The reason I went all the way up to 15th level is because the invocations were the guiding principle of this one, and I wanted to show the sort of endgame there. I wanted a haunted explorer, so I wanted to grab all the invocations that lean towards exploration/divination/knowledge. Devil’s Sight, Ghostly Gaze, Witch Sight. Eyes of the Rune Keeper, Whispers of the Grave, Visions of Distant Realms. Book of Ancient Secrets. This creature wants to see and hear and know. And not necessarily be known in return, though it won’t mind in certain select cases.

Another reason for GOOlock, though the telepathy and ability to sidestep language was also a consideration. And the vibes, obviously. (I would have flirted with Fathomless just for the tentacles, but GOO has more generally useful and thematic features)

So. A strange creature, half-made, or half remade, discovered half-mad and half-remembered among a vast collection of shipwrecks floating in a cursed eddy of the Astral Sea.

Character Sheet: Umad Nai

Name: Umad Nai

Race: Reborn

Age: Unknown

Background: Astral Voyager

Class/Level: Warlock 15 (Great Old One)

Statistics: Strength 8, Dexterity 14, Constitution 14, Intelligence 14, Wisdom 10, Charisma 20

Ideal: Curiosity. Know the unknowable. Tread without fear.

Bond: What is there to be known, what is there to be found?

Flaw: Curiosity killed the cat. But what if you might have been dead before?

Skills & Languages:

Skills: Arcana, Insight, Investigation*, Perception, Persuasion, Religion, Stealth

Languages: Common, Gith, Elvish, Deep Speech

Traits, Feats and Background/Class Features:

Racial: Ancestral Legacy (2 skills), Deathless Nature, Knowledge from a Past Life

Background/Feats: Astral Magic (cantrip), Skill Expert (skill, skill expertise, +1 Intelligence)

Class: Pact Magic, Awakened Mind (telepathy 30ft), Eldritch Invocations (7), Pact of the Tome (Book of Shadows, 3 cantrips), Entropic Ward (impose disadvantage 1/rest), Thought Shield (psychic resistance, immune to telepathy/detect thoughts), Mystic Arcanum (6th, 7th, 8th levels), Create Thrall (permanently charm incapacitated humanoid until removed, telepathy within plane)

Spells:

Cantrips: Eldritch Blast, Chill Touch, Mind Sliver, Message, Mage Hand, Guidance, Thaumaturgy, Spare the Dying

Spells: Armour of Agathys, Hex, Invisibility, Fly, Tongues, Counterspell, Evards Black Tentacles, Dimension Door, Far Step, Synaptic Static

Arcanum: Eyebite, Crown of Stars, Maddening Darkness

Rituals: Detect Magic, Alarm. (Ideally also Augury, Divination, Contact Other Plane, Rary’s Telepathic Bond, possibly also Identify, Comprehend Languages, Silence and Forbiddance, depending on DM allowance, but we’ll start with those two)

Invocations: Devil’s Sight (see in darkness), Eyes of the Rune Keeper (read all writing), Book of Ancient Secrets (ritual casting), Ghostly Gaze (xray vision), Whispers of the Grave (speak with dead at will), Visions of Distant Realms (arcane eye at will), Witch Sight (see through illusions/shapeshifting)

Description: A strange grey humanoid creature with oddly unfinished-looking features and no discernible gender. Very tall, scraggly and spiderish of limb, clad in a hodgepodge of garments and armour scavenged from several centuries’ worth of ships lockers.

History: The creature calling itself Umad awoke wandering the conglomeration of conjoined shipwrecks in the Stargasst Eddy, a cursed eddy in the Astral Sea. It does not remember, save for sporadic flashes, who or what it might have been before it awoke, though it is only mildly interested in that particular mystery. There are far greater ones to uncover. Not least, the identity of the voice that whispers to it in darkness and dreams. Umad is powerfully curious about this entity, and about many other things. Secrets. Magic. What dead and undead creatures do drift in the Astral Sea. Umad would like to explore. It would like to know and find interesting things. And people. And, perhaps, learn to keep some of them? Depending on interest.

#d&d #character concepts #warlocks #spelljammer #i really like goolocks #they're fun and squishy

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sqinsights · 2 months

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Mozzarella Mania: Unmasking the Cheesy Secrets of the Global Market

Welcome to the sizzling world of mozzarella, where the cheese is not just melted but also raking in billions. In this rollercoaster ride through the Global Mozzarella Cheese Market, we’ll slice through the cheesy details, explore the bubbling trends, and perhaps sprinkle a bit of humor along the whey. So, grab your pizza slice and let’s dive into the mozzarella madness!

Cheese Chronicles:

Mozzarella’s Rise to Power: Who would have thought that a cheese with a mild, creamy flavor would become the rockstar of the dairy world? Mozzarella, the darling of Italian cuisines, has conquered hearts (and stomachs) globally. From pizza to caprese salads, it’s the unsung hero behind the scenes, making our taste buds do the happy dance.

Pizza Pizzazz: In the world of fast food, pizza reigns supreme. And guess who’s the VIP ingredient at the pizza party? That’s right, our dear mozzarella. Its meltability and ability to create a golden crust have made it the Leonardo da Vinci of pizza ingredients. No wonder the demand for mozzarella is soaring, thanks to the world’s undying love for a slice of cheesy heaven.

Dietary Dilemmas: As the world obsesses over protein-rich diets, mozzarella is basking in the limelight. Packed with protein and calcium, it’s the poster child for health-conscious consumers. Producers are cashing in on this trend, expanding their range to cater to the growing demand for organic and artisanal cheese options. Because, you know, even cheese wants to stay on trend.

Market Mayhem:

Global Mozzarella Cheese Market Snapshot:

Market Size (2022): USD 37.30 billion

Estimated Size (2031): USD 64.09 billion

Growth Rate: 6.2% CAGR

Largest Segment: Cow’s Milk Mozzarella

Fastest Growth: Buffalo Mozzarella

Mozzarella Categories:

Type: Cow’s Milk, Buffalo

Form: Fresh, Shredded, Block

Varieties: Whole Milk, Part-Skim, Low-Moisture

World Tour of Mozzarella: Italy, Germany, and the US are the mozzarella maestros, leading the production parade. Meanwhile, the Asia Pacific is the rising star, showing considerable growth potential. As global trade swirls the cheese pot, mozzarella is jet-setting across borders, expanding its dominion.

Mozzarella Masterclass:

Cow’s Milk vs. Buffalo Mozzarella: Cow’s milk mozzarella has long been the people’s choice — versatile, economical, and loved by pizza enthusiasts. But wait, here comes buffalo mozzarella, striding in as the dark horse. Gourmet, creamy, and oh-so-premium, it’s winning hearts in the race for mozzarella supremacy.

Shredded, Fresh, or Block? Decisions, Decisions: Shredded mozzarella takes the crown, hailed for its culinary flexibility. Quick-service restaurants and home cooks swear by its convenience. Block mozzarella, on the other hand, gives control freaks (in a good way) the power to determine thickness and texture. Fresh mozzarella? Well, that’s the soft, delicate soul making salads great again.

For More Information: https://www.skyquestt.com/report/pulp-molding-machines-market

Regional Cheese Champions: North America, led by the US, devours the most mozzarella, thanks to an insatiable appetite for pizza. Europe, with Italy at the forefront, flaunts its cheese-making tradition proudly. It’s a cheesy world out there, and we’re just living in it.

Market Movers and Shakers:

Drivers of Mozzarella Mania:

Convenience Foods Craze: Shredded mozzarella in ready-to-eat and frozen delights — because who has time to grate cheese?

Pizza Fever: The pizza industry is the unsung hero, pushing mozzarella into the limelight. Let’s take a moment to thank our doughy friend.

Speed Bumps on the Cheese Highway:

Plant-Based Invasion: The mozzarella realm faces stiff competition from dairy-free alternatives. Vegan cheese, we’re looking at you.

Trade Troubles: Export-import hurdles could cast a shadow on mozzarella’s global dominance. Tariffs, quotas, and the drama unfolds.

Cheese Titans on the Stage: Multinational dairy giants like Nestlé, Kraft Heinz, and Lactalis are the Mozzarella Avengers, fighting for their share of the cheese-verse. Their secret weapons? Extensive production, widespread distribution, and a dash of mozzarella magic.

Recent Cheese Chronicles:

Kraft Heinz dabbles in plant-based mozzarella, because even the cheesy giants are hopping on the vegan bandwagon.

Bega Cheese flaunts its Aussie mozzarella, crafted from 100% Australian milk. It’s like a koala in your caprese salad.

Granarolo plans a vegan cheese line. Soy, coconut milk, and rice — the holy trinity of dairy-free mozzarella.

Cheese Future:

Plant-Powered Mozzarella: As the world flirts with plant-based diets, mozzarella is joining the green revolution. Sunflower oil, coconut oil, pea protein — welcome to the era of guilt-free, plant-powered cheese.

Artisanal Affair: Crafted with love and superior quality, artisanal mozzarella is stealing the spotlight. Gourmet food lovers, rejoice! Your cheese platter just got an upgrade.

Conclusion:

And there you have it — a cheesy expedition through the twists and turns of the Global Mozzarella Cheese Market. From pizza parties to health-conscious choices, mozzarella has carved its niche in the culinary world. As we bid adieu to this dairy delight, remember: life is too short for bad cheese. So, go on, indulge in a cheesy affair, and let mozzarella be your guide through the labyrinth of flavors.

About Us-

SkyQuest Technology Group is a Global Market Intelligence, Innovation Management & Commercialization organization that connects innovation to new markets, networks & collaborators for achieving Sustainable Development Goals.

SkyQuest Technology Consulting Pvt. Ltd.

1 Apache Way,

Westford,

Massachusetts 01886

USA (+1) 617–230–0741

Email- [email protected]

Website: https://www.skyquestt.com

0 notes

market-spy · 2 months

Text

Mozzarella Mania: Unmasking the Cheesy Secrets of the Global Market

Cheese Chronicles:

Market Mayhem:

Global Mozzarella Cheese Market Snapshot:

Market Size (2022): USD 37.30 billion

Estimated Size (2031): USD 64.09 billion

Growth Rate: 6.2% CAGR

Largest Segment: Cow’s Milk Mozzarella

Fastest Growth: Buffalo Mozzarella

Mozzarella Categories:

Type: Cow’s Milk, Buffalo

Form: Fresh, Shredded, Block

Varieties: Whole Milk, Part-Skim, Low-Moisture

Mozzarella Masterclass:

For More Information: https://www.skyquestt.com/report/pulp-molding-machines-market

Market Movers and Shakers:

Drivers of Mozzarella Mania:

Convenience Foods Craze: Shredded mozzarella in ready-to-eat and frozen delights — because who has time to grate cheese?

Pizza Fever: The pizza industry is the unsung hero, pushing mozzarella into the limelight. Let’s take a moment to thank our doughy friend.

Speed Bumps on the Cheese Highway:

Plant-Based Invasion: The mozzarella realm faces stiff competition from dairy-free alternatives. Vegan cheese, we’re looking at you.

Trade Troubles: Export-import hurdles could cast a shadow on mozzarella’s global dominance. Tariffs, quotas, and the drama unfolds.

Recent Cheese Chronicles:

Kraft Heinz dabbles in plant-based mozzarella, because even the cheesy giants are hopping on the vegan bandwagon.

Bega Cheese flaunts its Aussie mozzarella, crafted from 100% Australian milk. It’s like a koala in your caprese salad.

Granarolo plans a vegan cheese line. Soy, coconut milk, and rice — the holy trinity of dairy-free mozzarella.

Cheese Future:

Artisanal Affair: Crafted with love and superior quality, artisanal mozzarella is stealing the spotlight. Gourmet food lovers, rejoice! Your cheese platter just got an upgrade.

Conclusion:

About Us-

SkyQuest Technology Consulting Pvt. Ltd.

1 Apache Way,

Westford,

Massachusetts 01886

USA (+1) 617–230–0741

Email- [email protected]

Website: https://www.skyquestt.com

0 notes

ageofgeek · 1 year

Text

I posted 940 times in 2022

73 posts created (8%)

867 posts reblogged (92%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@aurorawest

@yoyobobo456

@intermundia

@oceanlover4evr

@atypical-snowman

I tagged 940 of my posts in 2022

#star wars - 182 posts

#marvel - 156 posts

#rofl - 140 posts

#equality - 135 posts

#hetalia - 131 posts

#spoilers - 92 posts

#sw obi-wan kenobi - 92 posts

#rant - 88 posts

#mine - 79 posts

#rebellion era - 64 posts

Longest Tag: 132 characters

#i remember looking through the list of revealed russian propaganda accounts and yeah i absolutely reblogged things from some of them

My Top Posts in 2022:

i still can't get over just how good the opening scene to HOTD is

like, they really gave us everything:

King Jaehaerys!!! it's so fucking cool to see him!!! and the shadow of his great reign hangs so heavily over Viserys!!!

Centering Rhaenys and how the crown was stolen from her (as well as putting the gender dynamics front and center)

the fondness in VO Rhaenyra's voice when she calls Viserys her father just slays me. bc even tho she sees how unfair it was for Rhaenys to be passed over, and even seeing how Viserys' faults led to the Dance of the Dragons, Rhaenyra still loves him because he's her dad

the final line - "the only thing that could tear down the house of the dragon was itself" - being supplemented by the original GOT theme!!! CHILLS. Not only foreshadowing the Dance of the Dragons, but also Mad King Aerys, Rhaegar, and Daenerys!!

truly. It's only like a minute long and it may be one of my favorite scenes in this entire franchise.

28 notes - Posted October 11, 2022

i know that palps just being Fucking Done with vader’s eternal Obesession is hilarious, but i seriously cannot stop thinking about that scene, because...

sidious clearly always used the people anakin loved to manipulate him - whether it was padme, ahsoka, obi-wan, and then later luke. so why would sidious want vader to stop thinking about obi-wan, when he clearly uses obi-wan to taunt vader in other contexts?

could it be because a small sliver of anakin skywalker shone through when he fought obi-wan, and sidious could sense it? could it be that sidious was worried that if vader continued facing obi-wan, that sliver would only get larger and brighter? could it be that sidious realized that obi-wan might have been capable of taking his right hand from him?

105 notes - Posted June 25, 2022

Bond falls victim to what I am now calling "Steve Rogers Syndrome," where a main character throws away his found family (which the audience has become much more attached to) in favor of a bland, boring, nuclear/heterosexual life. Just because Bond doesn't get his "happy ending" doesn't mean that he doesn't fall into this trope.

I think a lot of people would agree with me when I say that Bond & Madeline have no chemistry. They had no chemistry in Spectre and they continue to have none in NTTD. And yet, we're supposed to care about their relationship because 1) the narrative (i.e. Bond) tells us, instead of shows us, that he loves her, and 2) there is a child (which the narrative also tells us that we should care about).

But the truth is that Bond doesn't trust Madeline. Not really. The second he's attacked by Spectre, he immediately blames her and doesn't even question if he's wrong (and she doesn't really try to convince him otherwise). Now, you may chalk this up to Bond not trusting anybody, but here's where we get to the found family: because he does trust his MI6 family, implicitly, immediately.

He trusts Eve enough to tell her about the scientist, Feliks, what happened in Cuba, etc., and to ask for her help. He trusts Q so much that he gives him the flashdrive he recovered in Cuba, he stays with Q in his apt while he's in London, he places his life in Q's hands multiple times throughout Skyfall, Spectre, and NTTD. He trusts Mallory - even after knowing his shadiness with Herakles, he still trusts him enough to go back under his command. He even trusts Nomi after only a few days of meeting her - enough to trust her to have his back on the island, enough to trust her with Madeline and his child.

So the fact that Bond doesn't trust Madeline is a huge, huge red flag. To me, the "trilogy" of Skyfall, Spectre, and NTTD were all about establishing Bond's support system and family within MI6. In Casino Royale and QoS, he really only had M, and no other connections to MI6 beyond her. But starting with Skyfall, he begins to build a support network of people he does trust in MI6, and the audience begins to trust them (and love them) along with Bond.

This simply doesn't apply to Madeline, because Bond doesn't trust her, and so the audience is never shown why we should trust her or love her.

276 notes - Posted November 13, 2022

I've been thinking about tolkien lately, and i know this must've happened to many fathers and mothers across europe in the 1940s, but

do you ever think about how tolkien was sent to fight in a pointless, brutal, terrible war, from which only he and one of his friends returned? a war that promised young british men that they would find glory, only to find death and trauma and suffering? and when he returned, stricken with trench fever, he told his children stories of the adventures of a humble hobbit - a simple tale, that maybe purposefully didn't reflect just how awful his own "adventure" was.

And then just 20 years later, those children, his children who had heard those stories of a humble hobbit, got sent to fight in another brutal, devastating war, and he had to watch them go without him, knowing what they would go through because it had happened to him.

and this time, after that second war was over, and his sons had returned to him safely, he wrote another tale. This one not as simple. This one not for children, but for the grown men and soldiers his sons had been forced to become. This one centered the brutalities of war but also the hope of friendship and love.

i just. do you ever think about john ronald reuel tolkien???

4,154 notes - Posted September 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

the special relationship is as strong as ever, lads

214,332 notes - Posted July 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #i love how my 2nd most reblogged post is a respectable 4k notes and then my 1st most reblogged is 214k #that meme haunts me to this day lmao #mine

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youareunbearable · 3 years

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Headcannon that Celebrimbor and Thranduil were childhood Frenemies because I don't like how the Mirkwood Elves were left out of everything that happened so pls enjoy this fliclet

---

Once the Feanorians touched down in Hithlum, Thingol sent his younger brother's brother in law Oropher to be his ambassador. Oropher, of course, brings his son Thranduil along because this is a great chance for diplomatic training

Maedhros, this is during the time Morgoth is sending his own persistent ambassadors, thinks it would also be a great time to start Celebrimbor on diplomatic training, because before this he was just in the forge with Curufin and Feanor. And it doesn't look like the rest of the Sons of Feanor are going to have kids so he'll be inheriting the crown one day.

So Celebrimbor and Thranduil are pushed together on children "play dates"

They hate it, they always fight with each other and have competitions and as soon as they see each other they will throw down and scream new insults they learned since the last time they met. Sometimes they spent entire visits only speaking to each other in their own native tounges and mock the other for not properly understanding what they are saying. This particular game didn't last long, but Tyelpe did become the first of the Noldor to speak Sindarin fluently with no accent and Thranduil enjoys the annoyed tick in Galadriel's typical serene expression when she hears him speak flawless Quenya with a Feanorian lisp

Oropher is concerned, being the youngest of 4 he never had an antagonistic relationship with any of them. But Maglor (the new depressed Noldor High King) just gives a small smile and shrugs. He grew up with 6 brothers and even more half cousins. Little Tyelpe and Thrandy are just playing like boys and future best friends do

And they keep up this frenenimes relationship even after Curufin moves them to Himland. When it gets sacked during Dagor Bragollach and Curufin, Celegorm, and Celebrimbor all flee south to their cousins home, Thranduil sends them some relief supplies. When Celebrimbor disown his father, Thranduil comes to visit and generally be annoying until Celebrimbor can stop feeling like shit

When Thranduil, his parents, and their people leave eastward after Thingol's death but before the second Kinslaying (for Oropher is older then the Sun and Moon, he is not about to be led by a boy not even in his 30th year, Maiar blood or not, and many Sindar agree with him) Celebrimbor travels with them and secures them safe passage through the Blue Mountains.

They both grieve when they hear of the Second Kinslaying, then the Third, and then when the East sinks under the waves. Not many in Lindon support Celebrimbor wearing the eight pointed star again, but Thranduil just rolls his eyes and tells him red looks dreadful with his complexion

During the Second Age when Thranduil gets married, Celebrimbor is invited to the wedding and vis versa when Celebrimbor marries Narvi

(Both marriages involve lots of teasing over their partners of choice. Thranduil laughs over the fact that of course a Noldor would marry a Dwarf, they are basically the same, what with their love of rocks and metal work. Celebrimbor rolls his eyes and snorts that he's surprised Thranduil didn't end up marrying an Ent, what with his love of trees, but he supposes that marrying a lady named "tree maid" is close enough. What next? Will he name his children "sapling" or "twig" or "leaf"? Thranduil shoves him off his chair, spilling wine all over the table and floor and growls that at least his children will have original names, and not share a name with two of his forefathers like Men)

They visit each other a lot during the second age, and Thranduil tries to help him as best he can during the fallout of Narvi's death, and when Celebrimbor is designing his rings of Power with that suspicious Maiar of his (who Celebrimbor SWEARS is helping him craft to work through the grief he has no other intentions) he had Thranduil (or Oropher) in mind when he created Vilya

When Thranduil heard about what happened to his friend and his land during the War of Elves and Sauron he grieved deeply. The only thing he had to remember his friend by was some forgotten blueprints of unfinished jewelry, an Age worth of letters (mostly written in Quenya, he of course had replied in proper Sindarin), a clumsy eight pointed star he laughingly embroidered onto the breast of Thranduil's favourite robe, a set of Sindarin long knives overly embellished with Noldorian swirls, and a box of white gems Celebrimbor hand crafted and left with a promise to come back once he finished his rings and use them to make a matching crown set for Thranduil and his wife to wear whenever he inherited the crown

("There may be even enough left over for a third crown. For your 'little leaf' to grow into whenever you two get around making one." Thranduil's wife laughed with Celebrimbor and sent her husband a leer that set his ears ablaze and Tyelpe's laughter began anew)

And enough regrets to haunt him for Ages. It seemed like bad things always came in three. Celebrimbor, his father, his new homeland. Thranduil led his people north, away from everything he had loved, and kept what remained close to his chest. After his wife was slain shortly after the birth of his son, he refused to lose anyone else. Greenwood the Great began to mirror his grief and became Mirkwood

It was almost another another Age before he decided to commission the Dwarves of Erebor to turn those precious white gems into the crowns Celebrimbor intended. Not for him and his now dead wife, but maybe for Legolas and his future partner. (His little leaf, he could hear Celebrimbor's laughter every time Legolas calls himself "Legolas Greenleaf" with that cheeky grin of his) And if Celebrimbor couldn't make them himself, he would be happy to let his Dwarven friends do the job for him

Thranduil almost burned down the mountain himself when they withheld those gems and one of the last pieces of his dear friend from him

Under the bone deep fear of watching a dragon from his nightmares sack the kingdom, he was a little pleased. Jewel thieves get their due

(He knows that Celebrimbor never swore his grandfather's Oath, but sometimes late at night he wonders if he still carried the curse of it. If that Oath and the Curse of Feanor are the reason his dearest friend died that awful way he did)

It was the beginning of a forth age when those sparking white gems were finally turned into the crowns they were destined to be. And Thranduil could almost hear Celebrimbor's delighted laughter as he watched his only son and heir, his little leaf, marry a dwarf.

When it came time to sail, Thranduil stayed with his people, he has coveted them for so long he now refused to leave unless he was forced too. Legolas, who had somehow made a small boat that could barely withhold the waves of the Western Sea, was greeted with a welcoming and joyful embrace by the Elf he only heard stories about

"Hail Celebrimbor, Lord of Eregion, Crafter of the Rings Of Power, Husband of Narvi son of Vilarvi of Durin's Folk, and most importantly, the dearest friend of my father!" Legolas greeted in flawless Quenya with a very noticeable Feanorian lisp. The gathered crowd twitched a little and Elrond (who was hoping of news of his sons) gave a sigh. "I have much to say, and so does my husband Gimli, but first I must give you my father's message!"

Legolas cleared his throat, and then with mock superior expression, one that made him look just like Thranduil, he said: "Celebrimbor you Spider Spawn of the Shadow, if you worked on my crown instead of those thrice damned Rings like you said, my son would never have married a Dwarf. Once I am reborn you better start running because I am going to burry you in my forest and chop down the tree you become with my anger alone!"

There was a startled gasp of silence on the shores of Valinor, before Celebrimbor burst into peels of joyful laughter. Legolas smiled at his honorary uncle and laughed with him

"As you can see, father missed you very much"

#celebrimbor #thranduil #legolas #lotr #silmarillion #tolkien #gigolas #oropher #while i was writing this i looked up Diors age and homie was 22 when he married his wife and died at 30 #how did any of the elves take him seriously??? he was an infant!!!! Who let this Infant Elf have kids???#absolutely wild i can see oropher being like This is my new king?? I think not and peacing out with most of their people #which is why the second kinslaying went the way it did #anyways enough about dior he was just a bad PR move #I think Thrandy and Tyelpe were best friends your honour #Celebrimbor would have loved legolas and been his biggest supporter in marrying Gimli #if he was let out of Mandos Halls by the time the two of them sailed he would have laughed and adopted Legolas on the spot #Celebrimbor for Best Uncle

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poptod · 3 years

Text

Pull the Stars Out of the Sky (And Gift Them to Me), pt. 3 (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: Things get busy as the palace prepares for the Pharaoh’s journey to Thebes.

Notes: WC: 5.1k

Warm flame blotted out the stars shining through the marble arches, leaving their light dim and diluted. In each corner of the small room, a floor torch illuminated the rows of papyrus scrolls, fire and shadow dancing as the men at the table conversed quietly. At first you had attempted to follow the topic, but the longer the hours grew the less patience you had. Eventually you found yourself wondering how the Pharaoh did this seemingly every day.

"I think we're getting a little ahead of ourselves," said a man you eventually learned was named Gyasi. He, along with most others gathered at the table, was an old man donned in golden linen, bearing curved lines drawn above his eyes. "We don't have time for such provisions. A number of things has delayed the King from planning earlier, so the journey to Thebes cannot be as detailed or grand as the last years, with Merenkahre."

"But we cannot arrive barren of gifts. As much as the mayor is loyal to the crown, it is good to keep in the graces of those ruling your cities. We can't afford any doubt of obedience," said the man sat on the far end of the table.

"I shall attend to the provisions and gifts myself, if need be," Piye said. Very rarely had they spoken at all this evening, and the deep tones of their nearby voice nearly startled you.

"What of the ships? Our fleet was destroyed and we don't have enough of the right design to carry what Merenkahre's advisors planned for their trips," said another man, whose long hair fell over his shoulders as he spoke.

"If the rest of you agree to tend to the soldiers, and for you the offerings," Ahk turned for a moment to the several priests gathered, "I will go through our models to find the best fit. Agreed?"

"I'm not –"

"It's nearly midnight," Piye interrupted. "The King needs his sleep, as do all of you. If you have any grievances you can bring them up tomorrow."

"... thank you, Piye," Ahkmenrah said, sighing sharply as he buried his face in his hand. "You're all dismissed. Get home and sleep well."

Rings of 'thank you, my king,' came from the men, cloth and cushions shuffling as they rose to their feet. You watched with wide eyes as they left. All who remained in the study were you, Piye, and Ahkmenrah. For the first time in at least several hours there was a quiet surrounding you, which you made sure to appreciate.

The night outside appeared to calm down, leaving only the sound of flowing water and cricket bugs chirping. Not even wind dared to brush through the arches. You sniffed, feeling sleep tug at the bags beneath your eyes. Ahk had gotten up early, and of course he insisted on taking you with him, creating for you a schedule you were very much not used to.

"I'm sorry, Amoke," Ahk said lowly, clearing his throat. "I didn't mean for this to carry on for so long. Are you tired?"

"Uh, yeah," you mumbled as you rubbed your eye.

"I'll see to it that Naguib doesn't wake you two until later. Will you be staying in your regular room or...?" Piye asked, their back turned to overlook the city.

"Inner," Ahk said with a stretch of his arms to the ceiling.

"Coward," Piye said, heading towards the door.

"Hey now, just because you have the body warmth of Ra doesn't make me a coward," Ahk said sternly, pointing a vindictive finger in Piye's direction.

"Right, sir," Piye said before swinging themselves out of the room.

He let out a long, weary sigh as he bent forward, resting his head on the low table. The blanket spread out between your laps shifted, as did the cushions, and though you tried to give him space he pulled himself into you the moment you moved. There he hid himself in you, breathing deep as he fidgeted with the cloth of your skirt.

"Did you have any thoughts about the meeting?" He asked, muffled against your neck.

"Your advisors are disappointed in you for being distracted when it comes to the religious part of the state, but can't realistically say anything since you're good with foreign diplomacy," you said.

What exactly they were planning and why had escaped you, but within the first thirty minutes of genuinely paying attention to the discussion, you'd deduced that with the prior knowledge of Ahkmenrah's and Merenkahre's reign.

"Are your advisors inherited from your father or did you choose them yourself?"

"Most of them are my father's," he said, pulling away from you to look you in the eye. "I know my cabinet needs some reorganizing, but it's not something I can concentrate on right now. Once we return from Thebes... I ask your help in deciding what changes to make."

"Um – that doesn't sound very wise, asking the advice of a civilian," you said, trying to back away from him. As usual, he did not let you, and held tighter to your hips.

"Do you question my judgement?" He asked, though kept a smile on his face.

Your answer to that was yes––very much so. There was no way you could say that, obviously, but you didn't want to lie either, so you stayed silent as he scanned you.

"A King knows what's best, my dear."

In the morning, Naguib woke you, and as he dressed Ahk, the King spoke to you. You had yet to leave the confines of silk sheets, and thus lay on your side with your cheek squished into the mattress as you watched them.

"We've got many a designs for ships, but only five of those are properly big enough to support us, the court, servants, soldiers, and offerings. Of those five there are about.. seven, I think, variations in the sails. We'll need to try each of them. How many ships is that?"

Naguib quickly looked away, avoiding the question. Similarly, you shrugged your shoulders, too out-of-it to formulate the correct answer.

"Thirty-five. Thirty-five ship rides today. Have you ever been sailing before?" He asked as he fiddled with his gold bracelet, turning to glance in your direction.

"No," you said quietly. As revered and important as water was, you still clung to your fear of the depths, and thus had never taken the opportunity to travel by river.

"I think you'll enjoy yourself," he said, with quite the amount of confidence in his tone. You, with insight into yourself, knew otherwise, and shriveled at his smile.

Massive sheets of linen rippled above you, tossed and blown by the eastern wind. The creak of wood sounded beneath your feet, spiking an uneasiness that plagued your stomach, and only worsened by the sway of the massive raft on the battering tide. All that remained to comfort you was the sun, shining blazingly overhead. You combated the burning heat by staying beneath the overhang of the little shack built into the middle of the boat.

Meanwhile, Ahk stood with hair flying in the breeze, his crown long forgotten on the floor. The skirt he wore was the only thing on his body now, allowing rays of sun to shine off the sheen of sweat worked up by his succinct movements. Mid-air he caught a rope in his palm, twisting it so it wrapped around his hand, and tugging harsh till the sail calmed itself. The billows dissipated into a smooth pillow of white, standing like a cloud against the blue sky.

"What do you think so far, Amoke?" Ahk asked above the splashing waves and muting wind.

"Takes an awful lot of effort, don't you think?"

"I suppose so," he said, panting lightly as he released the rope and headed towards you. "I won't be doing the sailing on the way there, however. At least not most of the time. We'll have our soldiers do that. Besides, this ship is large. Perhaps it is the sail hindering our work."

Our work. He could galavant off to wherever he wanted to, fix the entire problem himself, and he'd still say 'our,' or 'we,' or 'us'. You couldn't quite pinpoint why that annoyed you.

Along with the help of several other sailors on the ship, Ahk brought the hull to a rest against the sandy shore, while the sailors began to strip the sail and replace it. While they did so, Ahk rejoined you beneath the overhang. Once he arrived, the two servant girls on either side of the door held up their fans, blocking the sun further for the King.

"It may be a little windy, but today is a beautiful day," he said to you, circling an arm around your back. He rooted his hand to your waist and pulled you closer.

"I don't... like big boats," you mumbled, shoulders tight as your fist.

"Really? Why's that?" He asked with a grin.

"The wind is unpredictable and you can't see past the surface of the water."

"I think I can help you with that," he said, and his hand fell from your waist, tangling his fingers in your own.

Before you could say anything in reply, he was dragging you out from beneath the shade, into the open, unmanageable expanse of floating wood. The floor swayed as the boat was removed from the makeshift dock, nearly toppling you over from your poor balance.

"Careful there, dearest," he said as he steadied you. You bit your tongue, but reluctantly accepted his help in leading you evenly forward.

He took you to the tall mast, almost swaying with its' thin height. Wind filled the sail with a great howl, and with a little assistance from the soldiers, the boat was back to coasting down the Nile with the new sail.

"The wind is coming from the southeast," he said, leasing his grip on you to grasp a loose rope. "It'll be coming from there all day, so you can adjust the direction of the sail accordingly. If the wind is blowing too strong, you tie up the sail so it doesn't catch the wind. If the wind is weak, you open up the sail. It's all very simple. The design of these ships are specifically tailored for conditions along the Nile, so it's very rare any ships are overturned.

"For example, right now we're going a little fast. A few pulls and a few knots later," he tugged hard, lean muscles popping up beneath tanned skin as he did. Your eyes widened, unconsciously staring at his arms. "There. Didn't close it up all the way, cause we'd probably go to a standstill at that point and it can be a little hard to pick up momentum again."

"... momentum?"

"Thrust force," he clarified. Despite yourself you blushed and turned away, embarrassed of your own question, and flustered by his answer.

"Right," you said, mouthing the word, though not fully saying it. "It is easier for things in motion to remain in motion rather than to stop and pick it up again."

"Exactly," he said with a grin.

He stepped nearer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you in close. Your own shoulders locked and tensed as he did.

"You know, Amoke," he said, looking down to you, "I quite like having you along with me on my daily duties. I know it's not the most interesting thing for you, but... I hope you enjoy it as well."

The obvious answer, at least to you, was that you weren't enjoying yourself. Never once in your life had you given a thought to learning how to swim, which made you antsy and nervous whenever you were near water. Even a shore felt like too much. To be stuck right in the middle of a massive, overflown river with a man essentially holding you hostage kept you on overload.

As the boat continued its' leisurely pace down the water, your fingertips and feet began to itch, desperate to leave the swaying rock of the waves. Sickness welled in your stomach and crawled up your throat, acid burning the back of your tongue. You tried your best to swallow it down, but your discomfort was already noticed by the Pharaoh, whose eyes turned to concern as he faced you.

"Are you feeling alright? You look a little... um, nauseous," he said, his brow furrowed.

"I feel very warm," you admitted with flushed cheeks.

"Oh, well there's a very easy cure for that!" He grinned. "Do you know how to swim?"

"Never learned."

"Don't worry. I shall take it upon myself to teach you, for now and future instances," he said, placing his hands on your upper arms.

"I - I'm not sure I –"

"Don't worry," he murmured, pressing his cheek to yours so as to whisper in your ear. "Would you rather have to face the possibility of drowning, should I not be near?"

His hands traveled down your arms to your waist, where he began to tug at your belt. The motion had your hips bumping against his, and though you tried to jump back, all that did was loosen your skirt further. Your heart began to beat against your bones, practically thrumming in your chest. While your anxiousness grew tenfold, the Pharaoh kissed your forehead, soft as his ministrations continued.

Soon your clothes were tossed to the wooden floor, forgotten as he took in your bare form. For a moment he appreciated you, ran his fingers down your skin as his eyes dragged from your shoulders to your hips, keen to move exact and slow.

"Come now," he said, ceasing contact to take your hand, and leading you to the edge of the boat.

Steps built into the boat's side led down to the water. He led you down them, helping you to perch beside the rushing water as his own skirt fell, crumpled and tossed in the same direction as your own clothes.

By example you dipped your feet in the cool water, mimicking Ahk's own legs pushed to the side by the current.

"Moshe?" Ahk called over his shoulders.

"Yes, my King?" came from the bow of the ship.

"My pet and I are going into the water. Slow us down, will you?"

Your what?! you thought, but said nothing concerning that, and attempted to change the subject.

"Don't you have a lot of sails to go through?" You asked.

"We've got all day, and tomorrow. And maybe the day after that. After that, though, we're out of luck," he said, a wide, crooked smile cast across his face. "But, of course... anything for you."

You almost laughed with him, but you tempered it down to a half-smile. From the spark in his eye and his blushing cheeks, you realized that it didn't matter if you laughed or smiled––it was still a positive reaction in his view.

Once the river slowed to the steady pulse of a sail-less ship, Ahk dropped himself into the water, his head sinking beneath the murky surface. Your eyes widened, but you made no attempt to reach him. For a moment you imagined he'd died, and pondered upon what you would do then. Probably leave.

Wouldn't that be nice, you thought, spacing out as you stared at the sandy shore.

Drenched curls drew slowly upwards, till they sat plastered against Ahk's forehead. Droplets fell down past his eyes, trailing down his cheek, and settling on the bow of his lips. His hands reached for you, settling on your ankles with a tug. You instinctively jerked away, and he grinned slyly, humored by your easily-won reactions.

"The water won't bite you," he said, tugging harder on your ankle. "Promise."

When you still barely moved from your spot on the step, he said, "I won't bite you either, if you're worried about that. Tread water with me, dear."

Gingerly your legs untensed, thighs slipping into the water as you sunk down. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you stared into the hidden depths, hypnotized by the streaming rays of sunlight, reflecting off the sand floating in the river. His hand moved from your ankle to elsewhere, though you lost track of it until it reappeared on your hip.

"Not too cold, right?" He asked with a pleased smile.

"No," you said.

It was indeed a bit frigid on your skin, but you attributed that to the fact that you'd been overheating all day in the sun. The burning cold soon began to dissipate, and what you were left with was a pleasant relief from the sun, hidden in the long shadow casted by the boat upon the ripples of water.

"Keep kicking your legs or you're going to sink," he said, moving to give you room to experiment.

Once you got hold of your legs, he mimicked how to move your arms, and soon you were floating untethered to the boat. Before you realized it, the ship was drifting away with the cool breeze. You very nearly panicked, but Ahk began to swim leisurely alongside it, and motioned for you to do the same. The slow speed of the new sails treaded steadily on, allowing the two of you to keep the same pace as the hull.

"How do you like it?" He asked, turning to drift down the river on his back, hands entwined behind his head.

"What happens if there's a creature beneath us?" You asked in return, still attempting to see the bottom through the murky water.

"We get back on the boat," he said with a shrug, a sly grin spreading across his face as you glared at him.

In order to keep with his schedule, he soon hauled himself back up onto the ship's ledge, offering a hand for you as well. You took it, but remained on the edge with your toes dipped into the water. Behind you, Ahk discussed something quietly with one of his soldiers, and reordered the sails.

Those gathered on the boat––numbering about eight or nine––went through the seven variations in the sails, and soon the boat was pulling back into the docks with the scribe's notes in the Pharaoh's hands. The crew trampled off the ship, boarding the next one in line as the sails were moved from the first deck to the second. You watched from the side, careful not to interfere, and listened to Ahkmenrah's conversation with his scribe, whose name you learned was Zaid.

"Speed can be sacrificed for storage, if we leave earlier," Ahk mumbled, biting at his bottom lip.

"Those faster ones are easier to tear," said Zaid. "If you're putting even more weight on the ship, they aren't going to work."

"Hmm. No use debating when we've got four more boats to go through."

"Yes, my King. Very well."

Zaid left the Pharaoh's side to help with the sails, earning you once more time alone with Ahk. He stepped nearer to you, placing his arm over your shoulder and pulling you in, squeezing you in a gentle side-hug.

"Zaid is a very special scribe," Ahk explained, eyes still training after the crew. "He learned his trade from Piye while they were travelling the world on a soul mission. Piye doesn't remember him at all, but he does his job very well so I don't think it's a problem, even if he is lying."

"A soul mission?"

"Yes, well, Piye didn't always look like that. You know, the whole very tall, very dark skin and very white hair. They've got a very special magic about them," he said with a nod. "I believe most of it was unlocked during their soul mission, which caused the change."

"... right," you mumbled. Ahkmenrah had said a great deal of strange things to you, but claiming magic to be real was a little much, even for you.

Egyptians were always a bit of an enigma to you––from what you'd learned in your own travels, they were fiercely protective of their homeland, such to the point that they rarely invaded other countries. Magic was something as entwined with their daily life as eating or sleeping. Every town seemed to have their own pantheon of Gods, and each tomb their own spells scarcely found in doubles. Harmony was of utmost importance, and family life was revered, having its' own pedestal to rival the significance of the Pharaonic family. The incestual Pharaonic family.

You shivered instinctively at the thought. As much as you wanted to believe Ahkmenrah was not a part of that area of his culture, you had no way of knowing, and asking him directly seemed too great a task.

For the remainder of the day, your weight was grounded on wooden decks, only breaking when you let your feet hang off the side and into the water. Ahk tried to keep his focus on the project at hand, but his attention would often waver whenever he caught sight of you. Unfortunately for the crew of the ship, that was quite often, and the Pharaoh had no trouble acquiescing to your every desire. Be it questions, or a wish to swim or break the ship routine, he would immediately fulfill your request.

By evening the tests were finally complete, leaving a few stacks of papyrus containing Zaid's notes on the ships and their sails. Ahkmenrah invited him back to the palace, where the two of them conversed quietly in his study, ignorant of the outside world and ignorant of you. To bide the time you tried looking at star charts, as the actual night sky was blinded by torchlight both in the study and the city.

The rows upon rows of scrolls and tablets soon bored you, at which point you listened on the duller conversation between Ahk and Zaid, who had a pleasant back-and-forth concerning the trip to Thebes. Slow, soft murmurs brought your shoulders to sag, muscles aching from the minimal effort of the day. It had been a while since you'd gotten any true exercise.

You closed your eyes for a moment––you could swear it was only a moment––but when you opened them, you found yourself rustling from movement, and blearily realized you were being held. Someone was carrying you down a chill hallway, and by diminishing torchlight you recognized the face of the Pharaoh.

"Long day, hmm?" He said upon noticing you were half-awake.

"No," you insisted with a frown. "I'm awake."

"Not standing, though," he teased.

"I'll fuckin' stand if y-"

"Shhh," he said softly, leaning in to peck your forehead. "We'll be sleeping soon anyway. It's far too late to do anything else."

Morning came and you found Ahk already awake, dressed in commoner's clothes and speaking softly with Naguib. From your spot on the bed, your cheek pressed into the pillow, you watched their tiny motions and the few words you could hear.

A couple minutes into listening, Ahkmenrah noticed you were awake, and hushed Naguib as he turned to you.

"Good to see you're awake," he said with a peppy smile, too bright and cheerful for your morning eyes. "I'm afraid I have to go into the markets today for a special deal. I won't be able to take you along. You might get lost in the crowd, or get hurt, and I abhor that idea. You understand, right?"

He was lying. Something about his choice of words, or the way he held his shoulders, hinted at the lie. What the truth was you wouldn't ask, though you speculated it to be a shady deal he didn't want you to know about. Instead you nodded, shifting to sit up, silken sheets pooling around your hips.

"Naguib, does this door have a lock?"

"Only from the inside, sir," Naguib said, his hands dutifully behind his back.

Ahk paused for a moment to process the answer, a detached coldness glazing over his eyes.

"Fetch me some rope, will you?" He said, and your eyes went wide, limbs suddenly scrambling backwards.

"Yes sir," Naguib said as he left the room.

"Please don't," you asked, almost on the verge of begging. Your wrists were just now barely healing, the blisters from tweed rope bruised instead of bleeding. "I'll stay with you in the market. I won't try to escape."

"I'm sorry, pet, truly," he said as he knelt on the bed, crawling up until he pinned you against the wall, your thighs pressed tightly together as you stared with pleading eyes.

"Please, Ahk," you begged, succumbing to your natural self-protective instinct.

"It won't be for long," he promised, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You shivered in disgust of his movements. "I'll come back in a few hours and I'll... I'll take you anywhere you want to visit, alright?"

His kind words made you falter, and once more you reminded yourself of an unfortunate illness that happened often to those kidnapped by lust-driven people. It was a condition you'd seen a few times––the kidnapped begins to sympathize with the kidnapper, falls in love with them, and never realizes the implication of it all.

Those sweet words of his would not bring you to your knees. You kept your resolve best you could, even as tears began to well in your eyes, pain shooting through your nerves as he wrapped the tweed rope back around your wrists and tied you to the bed frame.

Before he left to follow Naguib, he kissed your forehead again, brushing the hair out of your face as he did.

"I'll have the servants bring you some food," he said, shutting the door behind him.

You sighed sharply. Since you were last tied up, this would be your first moment alone, hidden deep within the stone walls of an alien palace. Irritation grew within you as you looked to the paintings on the wall, and soon you were grunting as you pulled at your restraints. The rough hay poked at your skin, stabbed and chafed as you struggled, attempting to find some give in the tight knot.

In the end you lay back down on your side, tears crossing your eyes and temple as blood began to drip from your already-bruised skin.

Damn him, you thought, sniffling. I swear I'll kill him.

About an hour later––though you had no idea of knowing how much time had actually passed––a servant came to visit you, a tray of food in hand. You sat up best you could, attempting to wipe away your teary shame.

"My name's Haji," he said. "I've seen you around, with the Pharaoh. I'm sorry."

"... thank you," you said blankly, despite the horrifying array of emotions that came to you. That was the first time you'd actually gotten sympathy in this Godforsaken place. Mostly you were met with people who thought you were lucky, or people who thought you were bad for the King.

"Yeah.. do you want me to undo those?" He asked, gesturing to the rope.

"Yes please," you mumbled, shoulders tightening as a blush dusted your cheeks.

He reached up, nails digging into the strange knot. Slowly it began to loosen, eventually falling over your shoulders, with your arms no longer numb from blood loss. Freezing cold first overcame your limbs, followed by tingling warmth that finally brought about movement.

"Thank you," you said, reaching for a roll and biting into it. "Are you actually allowed to do that?"

"Not really," he chuckled, "but usually people like to keep their dignity and not be handfed as an adult."

"Right?" You said, your first smile in Egypt crossing your face. "Ahk insists on it sometimes, it's incredibly strange."

"He probably has some sort of weird mommy complex. I do know he really wants kids," Haji said, drifting off slightly in thought.

Your eyes widened. Is that why he wanted you? Then came the next question, barreling into your mind without thought for your sanity––were you the child, or was he keeping you there to have his children?

You very nearly threw up.

"... but that's probably just because he enjoys protecting people," he finished.

"You seem to know him well," you said, attempting to speak through your nausea.

"I've worked for the royal family my entire life. I kind of grew up with the Pharaoh... he used to steal wine from the kitchen and I always let him. Don't really want to risk saying no to a royal," he joked.

"I understand," you said softly. "If it makes you feel better, it doesn't really matter what you say. He'll take whatever he wants."

"I know," he said, looking to you with a regretful brow. He allowed a moment of silence before he asked, "you begged with him, didn't you?"

"Yes," you said, voice cracking.

"Bit of advice? If you struggle physically, he'll get more forceful, but if you cry, he'll feel bad about himself and stop," he said.

Without thought you burst out laughing, covering your face with your hands as you tried to stop the torrent of giggles. He grinned as well, less amused by his advice, and more delighted that you found it so entertaining. Caught up in your own laughter, neither of you noticed the door swinging open by the Pharaoh's hand. When you did turn, you found the King beaming at you, his smile bright enough to fill the whole of the room.

"Amoke!" He said, striding across the room to you. Your eyes darted quickly to Haji, who looked as alarmed as you, before you were pulled from your spot and heaved into a tight hug by Ahk. Even there you glanced to Haji, whose mouth was now open in disbelief.

"Um, I'll leave you two alone," Haji said, gingerly raising himself from the spot on the bed.

Ahk promptly dropped you back into the soft cushions, a high-pitched huff unwillingly leaving you as you landed.

"Nonsense Haji! You made my pet laugh," he said, turning from Haji to you as he spoke your name, fingers dragging beneath your chin to force you upwards. "Considering I've rarely seen Amoke smile, much less laugh, I think some new arrangements in order. You shall join us on our journey to Thebes."

"Like... a professional friend..?"

"Sure. Whatever you'd like to name yourself. Go get packed––we leave within the hour," he said, information that sent Haji bolting out the door with an obedient, 'yes sir'.

“You’re awfully chipper,” you noted with mild suspicion.

“Someone burned a whole pot of blue lotus and it got caught in the, um, room. With the traders. You know, where I was for an hour. That’s probably why.”

"Oh. I thought we were leaving in two weeks," you said with a confused frown, moving to your feet when Ahk pulled you to do so.

"Not sure where you heard that, but we were hoping to leave within a week. Do you have any belongings you want to bring along?"

"My clothes. I still haven't gotten them back from those washhouse servants," you said.

"Then it shall be done. By someone else. We need to get to the docks. I'm assuming you've never been to Thebes before?"

"No."

"I think you'll like it," he said, taking your hand in his and leading you out of the room. "The orgies there are fantastic."

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

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black-rose-writings · 3 years

Text

Winx Lorebuilding - Pre-series Timeline and character ages

I’m trying to create as comprehensive lore for the Winx universe as I can (because the show doesn’t). Lorebulding is an alternative universe to the Winx Canon, but hopefully, it’s going to end up being much more straight forward.

Information from the canon is going to be used as more of a jumping off point than anything else. Information from the movies is going to be treated as less valuable than that from the show proper (since the movies’ canonicity is queastionable), though if I like the movie version more, it may be included anyway. Season 8 information is also going to be treated as less valuable, and will pretty much only be included, when it doesn’t contradict any previously established information.

I’m going to be using the destruction of Domino as a year zero for the timeline, for obvious reasons.

Some other things, before I get into it:

I’m taking the Winx’s listed birthdays at face value, including Bloom’s

I’ll be assuming the characters were their listed ages in their first appearance and the Trix and Roxy were 18 at theirs (because otherwise, Roxy would be a fucking baby compared to everyone else - Roxy is fresh out of high school in season 4 in the lorebuilding universe)

I’m gonna be using mid June in Earth time as the beggining of Alfea school year (see also my previous lorebuilding post x)

Long post ahead.

Pre-Series Timeline (Begining of the universe - 16ADD (After Destruction fo Domino))

Date Unknown - The Great Dragon pops into existence as a manifestation of creation, light and life. The Shadow Phoenix forms as a counter-balance to him, a manifestation of destruction, darkness and death. The Water Stars form.

Date Unknown - The Great Dragon creates the magical universe.

Date Unknown - The Great Dragon decides to rest on Domino, giving his power to the Nymphs.

Date Unknown - The Shadow Phoenix creates/accesses the Realm of Obsidian, creating/freeing the Ancestral witches into the Magical Dimension as the first evil beings in it.

Date Unknown - the Water Stars are sealed away from the Magic Dimension

Date Unknown - a sorcerer named Acheron creates the Legendarium

Date Unknown - The Ancestral Fairies exit the Legendarium World, bringing transformation magic into the Magic Dimension.

Date Unknown - Acheron is imprisoned within the Legendarium, which is later hidden away on Earth.

Some time before 977 BDD - The Ancestral Witches find a lost piece of the Dragon Flame mixed with darkness and form it into Valtor.

cca 977 BDD - The Wishing Star passes Valtor’s palace, he’s unable to capture it.

Somewhere in the middle ages - The Wizards of the Black circle form, beggining their hunt for fairies, forcing them to withdraw into the shadows of the human world, until magic was all but a myth to humans.

At least 100 BDD - Faragonda, Griffin, Griselda and Kelshara are born

At least 80 BDD - Kelshara and her brother become corrupted by Wild Magic and begin their search for the ultimate power.

At least 80 BDD - Griffin become involved with the Ancestral Coven and Valtor

cca 20 BDD - Crown Princess Daphne of Domino is born.

some time before 0 BDD - The Company of Light is formed

some time before 0 BDD - Griffin leaves the Ancestral Witches and joins the Company of Light

some time before 0 BDD - Daphne is named the Nymph of Domino

some time before 0 BDD - Daphne gains Sirenix

May 5th 2 BDD - the Trix are born (yes, they all share a birthday, because they started out being canonically triplets, and yes, they have their birthday on Revenge of the Fifth, how fitting)

August 18th 2 BDD - Crown Princess Stella of Solaria is born (yes in this version of events, Stella is only like three and a half months younger than the Trix)

September 23rd 2 BDD - Brandon of Eraklyon is born

February 15th 1 BDD - Timmy is born

September 2nd 1 BDD - Helia is born

October 15th 1 BDD - Riven is born

December 14th 1 BDD - Princess Bloom of Domino is born

December 16th 1 BDD - Tecna of Zenith is born

March 1st 0 (DD) - Flora of Linphea is born.

March 20th (DD) - Prince Sky of Eraklyon is born

May 30th 0 (DD) - Musa of Melody is born

January 1/0 BDD - Nabu of Andros is born (depending on if his first appearance in the show takes place before or after his birthday)

June 15th 1/0 BDD - Crown Princess Aisha/Layla of Andros is born (she’s canonically 17, when we first meet her and assuming season 2 starts around middle of June, she can either be freshly 17 or just about to turn 18)

Somewhere around the end of 1 BDD or begining of 0 (DD) - KIng Erendor of Eraklyon accepts a deal with the Ancestral Witches

Somewhere around the end of 1 BDD or begining of 0 (DD) - Domino is attacked, Bloom is sent to Earth with the Dragon Flame and Daphne is turned into a ghost - both are presumed dead.

0 BDD - Valtor fights the Company of Light and takes credit for the deaths of Bloom and Daphne. He’s captured and sent to Omega.

0 BDD - In the final battle between the Company of Light and the Ancestral Witches, the Ancestresses curse Domino and seal away all its inhabitants within their home realm of Obsidian.

0 BDD/1 ADD - Darkar is defeated by the Lord of the Templar from Lightrock and sent into a hybernation/dormant state.

March 20th 2 ADD - Princess Roxy of Tir Nan Og is born.

Somewhere between 3 - 6 ADD - Queen Morgana of Tir Nan Og is captured by the Wizards of the Black Circle

Somewhere in 5 or 6 ADD - Bloom and Selina meet Eldora, who takes Selina under her wing

Somewhere around 8 ADD - Musa’s mother dies

14 ADD - the Trix start attending Cloud Tower

15-16 ADD - Stella first attends Alfea, is expelled after she causes an explosion in the potions lab.

Character ages throughout the show + rough show timeline:

Season 1: mid June 16 ADD - spring 17 ADD

Musa - 16

Bloom, Tecna, Flora, Riven and Sky - 16-17

Brandon, Stella and Timmy - 17-18

The Trix - 18, might be 19 in the finale

Season 2: mid June 17 ADD - spring 18 ADD

Musa - 17

Aisha/Layla - either 17 the whole time or turns 18 very early on

Bloom, Tecna, Helia, Flora, Riven and Sky - 17-18

Brandon, Stella and Timmy - 18-19

The Trix - 19, might be 20 in the finale

Season 3: early June 18 ADD - spring 19 ADD

Musa - 18

Aisha/Layla - either 17 or 18 at the start, has birthday early on

Bloom, Tecna, Helia, Riven and Sky - 18-19

Nabu - either freshly 19 or turns 20 during the season

Brandon, Stella and Timmy - 19-20

The Trix - 20, might be 21 in the finale, but probably not

First movie: End of 19 ADD

Musa, Flora and Sky - 19

Aisha/Layla and Nabu - either 19 or 20

Bloom and Tecna - fresly 20

Helia and Riven - 20

Stella, Timmy and Brandon - 21

Second movie: Begging of 20 ADD

Musa, Flora and Sky - 19

Bloom, Tecna, Helia and Riven - 20

Aisha/Layla - 19 or 20

Nabu - somewhere between 19 and 21

Stella, Timmy and Brandon - 21

The Trix - 21

Season 4: mid June 20 ADD - ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ , but for simplicity, let’s say spring 21 ADD (Season 4 might literally take place in matter of weeks or it might go for two years, it’s pretty much impossible to tell)

Roxy - 18 (possibly turns 19 at some point)

Musa - 20

Aisha/Layla - either 20 or 21 at the start

Bloom, Tecna, Helia, Riven and Sky - 20-21

Nabu - 20 or 21 at the starts, between 20 and 22 at the time of death

Brandon, Stella and Timmy - 21-22

Season 5: early June 21 ADD - ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ , but let’s say spring 22 ADD (same problem as before)

Roxy - 19 (possibly turns 20 at some point)

Musa - 21

Aisha/Layla - either 21 or 22

Bloom, Tecna, Helia, Riven and Sky - 21-22

Brandon, Stella and Timmy - 22-23

The Trix - 23, might be 24 in the finale

Season 6: spring 22 ADD - spring 23 ADD

Roxy - 20 (possibly turns 21 at some point)

Musa - 21-22

Aisha/Layla - either 21 or 22 at the start, turns 22 or 23 by the second episode

Bloom, Tecna, Helia, Riven and Sky (and probably Selina) - 22-23

Brandon, Stella and Timmy - 23-24

The Trix - 24, possibly 25 by the end

Season 7: somewhere in the school year of 23/24 ADD, probably

Roxy - 21 (possibly turns 22 at some point)

Musa - 23

Aisha/Layla - 23 or 24

Bloom, Tecna, Helia and Sky - 23-24

Stella - might be 24 at the start, but probably 25 throughout the season

Brandon and Timmy - 24-25

The Trix - 25 or 26

Season 8: mid June 24 ADD - somewhere in 25 ADD

Musa - 24

Aisha/Layla - 24 or 25

Bloom, Tecna, Helia, Riven and Sky (and probably Selina) - 24-25

Brandon, Stella and Timmy - 25-26

The Trix - 26, possibly turn 27 by the end

#winx #winx club #winx bloom #winx trix #winx stella #winx flora #winx tecna #winx musa #winx aisha #winx specialists #winx nabu #winx character ages #winx timeline #winx lorebuilding

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