#700 stones deep

[chickadee-chariot]

Self congratulatory man in YouTube comments section asserts that "all humor comes from making fun of other races and genders." He styles his verbiage with an aura of geniality and ease, using familiar terms of address for complete strangers who disagree with him.

Those who have the gall to not only disagree, but to do so with perceptible indignation (or--heaven forbid--vexation!) are certain to be deemed far too irrational to hold meaningful conversation. Not to mention, the unspeakable rudeness of not adhering to the tone he has set for this interaction. That is, the proud proclamation of how little affected he is by what he considers humorous.

He wears his self-proclaimed "thick skin" like a badge of honor. He either does not know or does not let slip the fact that his skin is as thick as his understanding of humor is deep. His percieved great invulnerability is brought about not by any virtue of his own, but by his position on the metaphorical field of battle. He stands on a hill from which endless spears and boulders rain down. Below him, people wail as they pull each other free from bone-crushing rock. He bristles at their cries, as they interrupt his afternoon ruminations. A pebble, shaken free by the chaos, lands on his foot and he smiles at how his skin remains unbroken. Below him, red banners fly, still wet, drops whipping from their edges to land on his cheek. This is upsetting to him, he is not thinking of how to save any of them, he is thinking only of how to stop the noise.

The great secret, of course, is that he is already dead. He is a ghost, turning envious eyes on the people below, who have the audacity to bleed. He paces his island between rows of the dead, his hand itching for a stone.

[ataraxiaspainting]

Black and Blue.

Yan Blade x GN Reader.

Synopsis: Blade has a habit of leaving swords on his opponents’ graves. You have a habit of picking flowers near those who are dead. Unfortunately for you, those two things combined had you meet the immortal Stellaron Hunter for the first time.

Warnings: Yandere themes, descriptions of past violence, and implications of a future unhealthy relationship/stalking.

Word Count: 700.

*~*~*~*

“Why… are you staring at me?”

Your body isn’t well covered, Blade notes as he steps a bit back to take in the full sight of you. Your arms are paler than the snow here.

One of your hands grasps the stems of the flowers you had just plucked from an important resting place. It’s deep and just as old as Blade is judging by the crumbled stone bricks and withering vines yet none of the winter elements seem to cover it. Someone or some people must keep it clean to honor the dead. 

Your grip is so tightly that the thorns have dug into your skin and have started to make you bleed. Aside from the roses, your wounds and Blade’s eyes are the only bright red things in the vicinity. 

The clouds of Morana haven’t set in a long time. They cast over this planet like a mist so thick Blade had trouble navigating himself to the top of this mountain. The humans here have angered the long-fallen Aeon, causing her to seek revenge on her people.

It isn’t the first time an Aeon has made sure their followers have tragic fates ahead. Blade knows, and so do people that the Xianzhou have long removed from their historical records.

“You’re a thief,” He replies, his voice slow and steady – afraid that you will run if he is too harsh. “This grave belongs to the late Caterina the Great.”

“Flowers only grow here and nowhere else,” You reply, your tone less scared but more annoyed now. Perhaps you have realized that Blade isn’t from Morana. “It’s too cold down there. This is the only way I can pay for food without stealing it. Please understand…”

He only hums as he listens further, yet he only tries to make sense of his emotions in this present moment.

Is this pity he feels?

No. It’s something else.

Something not like pity, but relatability. 

You have been through plenty; it is as obvious as a fact like a dog’s nature is to be loyal. Your clothes are tattered. You’re shivering from having no warm place to go. But unlike when he was a wanderer with nowhere to go and nothing to hold but his sword, you could die in so many ways here. Someone can have you executed if there are other witnesses to you stepping on a war hero’s grave so carelessly. The elements can freeze your bloodstream if it gets too cold. The mountain itself can have a tree fall on you like your fallen Aeon put all of her hatred into a singular action and positioned it at a singular person. 

The old sword is pushed into the snow in front of your bare feet, and you stop speaking.

“Be more careful next time,” Blade says. “You’ll get hurt if someone sees you.”

He points and you follow his gloved finger. 

“Take it.”

“What?”

“Take the sword,” He orders, and then quickly removes his gloves. He puts them in your palm. “It’s old. It should be enough for a while.”

“Do you mean… sell it?” You are bewildered.

“If that is what you wish, go ahead.” Blade then removes his jacket and sets it on your shoulders. “Or use it to defend yourself. I am not familiar with Morana culture, but you most likely are. Trust your gut when making this decision.”

He’ll follow you after, he decides. For a while. Maybe forever, if Kafka doesn’t allow you on the ship.

[blueiscoool]

Rome is Building an Eight-Story Underground Museum – But Treasures Keep Getting in the way

Rome, as it’s often said, wasn’t built in a day. And nowhere is that more evident than its state-of-the-art Metro Line C, an ambitious project meant to help relieve the Italian capital’s renowned traffic hellscape and celebrate its rich archeological history with a unique-in-the-world underground museum.

The €700 million line ($757.7 million) was originally envisioned for the Catholic Jubilee of 2000 as a vital link between Rome’s San Giovanni Cathedral and Vatican City’s St. Peter’s Basilica, making it easier for visiting pilgrims to collect indulgences by walking through the churches’ holy doors. Rome’s major basilicas open their holy doors only during Jubilee years, allowing Catholics from all over the world to make pilgrimages to the city to walk through them, symbolizing an openness to receive mercy and reconciliation.

But the 2000 dream never happened, thanks to a series of problems ranging from a corruption scandal in the city government and the sheer number of archeological objects – 40,000 in all, from petrified peach pits to pottery and vases and even the walls and mosaics of Emperor Hadrian’s 2,000-year-old military barracks – found with each shovel full of dirt during the initial preparations.

Now the hope is to have the line’s showcase Piazza Venezia stop, featuring an eight-story underground museum, ready in 10 years, according to engineer Andrea Sciotti, who is in charge of the metro museum complex. This will allow them to open around the Jubilee of 2033, which will mark 2,000 years since the death of Jesus Christ.

“It’s true, 10 years seems like a long time, but we aren’t just dealing with the engineering issues,” Sciotti said inside the construction site. “This station will be judged as the most beautiful in the world … we don’t have to rely on museum items being brought in, the museum station is in its original context in ancient Rome.”

Displayed where they were found:

During the initial phases of work carried out in the last five years, Sciotti said all of the artifacts were removed from the site for restoration. Each will be placed exactly where it was found inside the metro museum, which is being dug some 85 meters (280 feet) deep, encompassing eight stories below the modern city of Rome.

Over the millennia the modern city has been built over covered ruins. Only around 10% of ancient Rome has been excavated, with the rest still buried some nine meters (30 feet) below the current city, according to Rome’s tourist bureau. The city dates back to the stone age and construction work is notoriously hampered by the discovery of ruins that are too plentiful to even excavate and are often reburied to preserve them. Even simple infrastructure work, like sewage repairs, have to be attended by archeologists who have the power to stop the work if something is found.

There will be 27 escalators, six elevators and 66,000 square meters of archeological exhibit space. Ancient walls found during excavations will be placed “in situ” in the modern station and the ancient Via Flaminia that ran through the ancient city to the nearby Roman Forum and Colosseum.

The station’s three main entrances will connect the three museums around the square: the Vittoriano, the Palazzo Venezia and the outdoor ruins of the Roman Forum anchored by the Colosseum at the far end, which has its own metro station that will also feature museum and exhibit space.

Several of the archeological sites will have access points from inside the metro museum, meaning commuters and tourists alike can exit the station by rambling through historically significant ruins like Hadrian’s Auditorium, which was discovered when the initial archeological investigation into the project started and was meant to be the location of the station entrance. Since then, they moved the site and excavated the ruins, which are currently only visible looking down from street level.

‘Top down’ excavation system:

To secure the site as they dig, engineers are using a “top down” excavation system, which has never been used in Italy but was an integral part of the Jubilee line in London. Cross walls and diaphragms are being buried deep into the soil to form the perimeter of the underground complex, with the dirt taken out recycled and enhanced to be used in the building materials, Sciotti said.

The train tunnels themselves are not the issue since they will be more than 100 feet below ground.

The Venezia station museum stop is not the only treasure on the new line. In 2016, archeologists working on the site of the Porta Metronia (previously known as the Ambra Aradam) station found a 39-room complex that spanned more than 9,700 square feet that has been incorporated into the underground station, which will open by the end of 2024. In 2025, the new Colosseo-Fori station, complete with a four-level underground museum to showcase artifacts including 25 archaic wells unearthed when it was built, will also open after activation tests, meant to begin in October, are completed.

The entire 26-kilometer C-line will be Italy’s first fully automated driver-less subway system and will reduce road traffic by 400,000 vehicles a day, meaning CO2 emissions will be reduced by some 310,000 tonnes a year, according to the WeBuild group, which is the main contractor for the project.

The original plans from the 2000 Jubilee have been modified to eliminate several stations in the historical center that would have simply been too difficult to excavate.

By Barbie Nadeau.

[askinkiskarma]

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ xɪɪɪ - ɪɴ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ

pairing: neteyam x human!reader

➽ a/n: finally, a new drabble! i'm actually quite happy with this one, and you better read until the end for a (hopefully) nice surprise! ly besties, smooches and xoxos

➽ words: >700 words

➽ warnings: it goes without saying, but all of these works (kinktober-related) are smut and therefore minors should NOT interact with them. other warnings include: fingering, tiny little degradation, tiny bit of praise

➽ taglist (x) ➽ kinktober masterlist (x)

A moan - small and insignificant, you thought, pushing past your plump lips like the air through the trees on a particularly stormy night. But he heard it, and that was enough for the movement to cease, enough for the pleasure bubbling up in your core to dissipate almost as quickly as it began. A shiver - down your spine, at his hushed purring words, his voice sweet like honey and molten like the lava in the Pandoran volcanoes you’ve only but heard about and envisioned in dreams and fantasies. 

“What did I say happens if you make a noise?” 

A sharp inhale - looking around the room, where Na’vi and humans stood alike, focused intently on the motion picture displayed clearly on a big projector. Like in a cinema, you were told. Humans love movies, they go out of their ways to experience them the way they were intended, and Norm insisted - no movies unless on a proper screen. It was nice. A stepping stone in the right direction, in the continuous if not a bit unrelenting desire to improve intra-species relationships and merge the now two coexisting words. So maybe what you were doing now was good, right? Cooped up under a blanket in between your best friend’s thighs, his fingers knuckle deep in your soaking cunt, hitting spots inside of you you didn’t even know were possible, his thumb drawing circles on your clit… It’s progress, right? You’re… building up rappor with the Omaticaya… right?

A promise of four purple bruises - as his hand digs into your hip, willing you for an answer you didn’t want to give him, because if you did, it would mean facing harsh reality. 

“Answer me, yawne.”

Whispered touches on your folds - as he teases you with the promise of more, as he tortures you with the lack of it. It’s heaven and hell, just like his whole entire being is. Neteyam was the perfect man, an angel on paper - sent from above to heal, to mend, to be everything anyone’s ever wanted of him. The perfect son. The perfect soldier. The perfect sibling. The perfect friend. The devil in actuality- like he was now, in the confines of the privacy you normally found yourselves in when like this, desperate to own you, possess you, eager to strip you of your clothes and sanity layer by layer until you were nothing but a fucked-out shell of who you were at the beginning of the night, until you were begging him to stop… until you were begging him for more. 

“S-stop. You said you’d… stop.”

A low chuckle - evil and mischievous, filled with underlying ache and a deep desire to put you over his knee and show you how good girls are supposed to behave. Later. Right now, he wants to see you squirm, he wants to hear you struggle to keep that pretty little mouth shut as he makes you come on his fingers over and over, until you’re squirting and mewling and crying, until you inevitably fail and he has to watch you scramble for a lie, stumble on your words as you say to the people watching in confusion that the movie was just that emotional. 

“That’s right. So what am I supposed to do now, mm?” 

A whine - desperate and pitiful, as you grind on his drenched fingers, looking for any relief, any friction that could alleviate the emptiness in you. The chuckle was a full blown laugh now, perfectly matched to a particularly funny scene in the movie. It wasn’t weird when everybody else laughed, too, right? Neteyam couldn’t have told anyone asking what was going on on the screen if they paid him, and well, he was glad because this… this was so, so much better. 

“Keep go…argh! Keep going, fuck!”

A moan - as he enters you again, two of his large fingers stretching you like a dream, hitting spots inside of you you didn’t even know existed. All of a sudden the world, this room, they were null in your mind, and you were alone with just him, with just these feelings and the man who was making them real, with the orgasm you felt rapidly approaching and what you knew would be the beginning of a long, long night.

“There we go. My little slut, taking my fingers so well. Maybe it’s time to give this people a real show, huh… Vol?”

taglist: @pandoraslxna @sulieykte @blue-slxt @eywaeveng @neteyamsikran @elenamoncada-ibarra @spicymayyo @itsjazzsworld @daddysmurfslefttoenail @eyrina-avatar @iameatingmyhair @hadesbabygurl@linydoll @the-mourning-moon @kasai-https @dvxsja (if your tag doesn't work pls check your settings x)

[gaiaseyes451]

7 Days, 700 Words - Storm Break - 7/7 - Complete!

Storm Break (new part in blue)

The patter of rain on the clay shingled roof interrupts our peace. Soft and languid a moment ago, your breath quickens; the crackle of the fire in the hearth a foreshock of the quake amassing in the slate gray clouds. Yet it is I who flinches when lightning flashes, casting the cottage sitting room into sharp relief. Too bright, too cold, too familiar.

Our fingers intertwine and reflexively I curl beside you. Whether it is to soothe my own anxiety or bolster your resolve matters not; you pressed against me, cheek resting in my curls, is a balm all the same.

I count silently, one…two…three… anticipating the sound that follows the fury. Thunder cracks, rattling the glass so droplets spill like tears down window pane cheeks. Through the tempest the unseen sun sets in the churning sky, violet and gold and vermilion glowing on the horizon. There is so much beauty in this world—once our ward, now made home—even in the storms.

But your vision is shuttered, goldenrod irises barricaded against the aftershock of memories of more insidious foes. I run my fingers through your hair and conjure the first storm we weathered, sheltered together as the rain fell over Eden. 

Poor protection though they were, we huddled together as the cold drops beaded on  my wings and ran off in steady rivulets, watching the world change around us. I remember the heat of the sun warmed stones beneath our feet, the whip of the wind against my robes and through your hair. 

But most of all, I remember the colors. In the rain soaked light greens were more verdant, reds richer, blues shades of indigo in their saturation. 

Your eyes, a soul suspended in amber, beside me.

“Do you remember Eden,” I murmur against your temple, “after the first rain?”

You look at me, the same golden soul, no less cherished for finally being mine, and smile. “I do.” 

I stand, our fingers still interlaced, and together we journey toward the garden and into the storm. I leave you on the patio, behind the curtain falling from the eaves, and step into the rain soaked grass to spread my wings. 

Before I can call you are beside me, glistening ebony wings perched carefully overhead 

“The scent of it,” you sigh, darker thoughts replaced by the breath of this moment. “Of dirt and petrichor, flowers and fruit. Life and Earth. You.”

We stand here, vulnerable and exposed, clothes dripping, sodden ground cold beneath our feet. We could turn, return inside, the breeze having whisked away the last remnants of our unease. 

Instead, we stay. 

This is precisely where we belong. We dwell in the cottage, but it is not our shelter. Its walls offer protection, but it is not our refuge.

The rain replenishes the silver necklace streams that adorn the land. The storm breaks the heat of long summer days and nourishes the jasmine that perfumes humid nights. It cleanses souls and slakes thirsts.

We need not fear the rain.

We did not seek refuge on wooden boats as the seas rose and the sky fell. Our safety was not heralded by a dove and olive branch. The ribbon of color bursting across a brilliant blue sky proclaims the magnificence of physics, not a miracle of faith. 

Troubles will always follow and we will surely fret and worry. Until the time the rain comes—as gale or shower, storm or drizzle—and washes our troubles away. The rain falls over everything. Even us. We shall always emerge from it, renewed and reborn, on our side.

We have learned to welcome the storm.

With unspoken agreement, we lower our wings, letting the rain wash over us. The storm is an old friend, the oldest we have. With each deep rumble and brilliant flash it greets us, in every heavy drop it bids us farewell.

Safety is the squeeze of your arm around my waist. Peace is seeing your shining eyes, day in and day out. Home is at your side; just as it has always been. 

You dip down as I reach up to capture your lips in a smiling kiss. This, too, we know well. After all, we were the first to fall in love in the rain.

****

The prompt was provided by @crowleysgirl56 and comes from the poem Troubles Follow by @lickthecowhappy . The stanza used as the prompt:

but a cottage near the / sea cannot shelter / from every storm / as rain falls / over all

It's done! I will be doing this again, I'll start the next one in a couple of days. :)

Got a prompt you want me to use next time? Add a comment below! Want to be on a tag list? Follow #Storm Break or comment below. Feel free to adopt this idea yourself! If you do, tag me and I will give you a prompt!

[sallysavestheday]

Throwback Thursday (Legolas edition)

It's been a little while since I did one of these, and I've had some people romping delightfully through my LOTR tags in the meantime (thanks, people!), so I have Legolas on my mind. Here are excerpts from a couple of my less-widely-circulated Lego-ficlets, for your Thursday delight.

Op. 1: Serenade for Bow and Axe (T: 700 words). In which Legolas and Gimli discover delight in the midst of battle.

He caught the percussive beat of Gimli’s invocations and wound his own voice around and through it, singing of the old growth, the spring rains, the new shoots that rise and are trampled yet rise and rise again. The stone-sound held him, firm and cool where his whole body burned with the exhaustion of too many days without sleep, too many nights without stars. That great voice at his back was anchor and lifeline and shield all at once, rumbling. No music he had ever made had felt so right, so balanced.

A Mighty Shot in the Darkness (G: 800 words). Backstory and framing for Legolas' felling of the Nazgul over the river. Featuring Thranduil (and Legolas' marvelous mother).

They had practiced that stillness over and over: the draw of the breath deep into the belly, stabilizing the shoulder and reducing the motion of the arm. Building the instinct to keep the arrow’s cradle balanced and firm. Rooting into the inceptive power of the Wood, the hesitation and swoop of all life's beginnings, the pause before a blossom blooms. Even in motion, now, it comes easily to him; even in flight. The rapid rhythm, the arrow's bite. Draw, breathe, release. Draw, breathe, release. All his body’s fluid energy spins around that silent core.

Enjoy!

Tagging @tathrin @roselightfairy @searchingforserendipity25 @eilinelsghost @theghostinthemargins -- got anything in your wayback boxes you'd like to share?

[brian-in-finance]

This is cool.

Van Cleef & Arpels Creates a Coffee-Table Book Worth Coveting

The iconic brand worn by stars including Margot Robbie, Gwyneth Paltrow and Caitriona Balfe has released an artful book that highlights some of the house's most fruitful design years.

https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/lifestyle/style/van-cleef-arpels-jewelry-design-coffee-table-book-1235953599/

Thanks for the message, Anon. 😃

GIF

Van Cleef & Arpels Creates a Coffee-Table Book Worth Coveting

The iconic brand worn by stars including Margot Robbie, Gwyneth Paltrow and Caitríona Balfe has released an artful book that highlights some of the house's most fruitful design years.

A look at the just-released book, "The Van Cleef & Arpels Collection (1906-1953)," which highlights some of the legendary jewelry house's most iconic designs. COURTESY OF VAN CLEEF & ARPELS

For jewelry aficionados, phrases like “Zip necklace” and “mystery-set stones” should instantly evoke thoughts of one heritage-steeped house: Van Cleef & Arpels. These are just two of the iconic design elements from the legendary brand that opened its first boutique on Paris’s Place Vendôme in 1906. Now a new book takes a comprehensive look at its high-wattage designs, created during the years when everyone from Hollywood icons Carole Lombard and Marlene Dietrich to Wallis Simpson, a.k.a. the Duchess of Windsor, ranked high among the house’s most ardent fans and devoted collectors.

The Van Cleef & Arpels Collection (1906-1953) is an impressive coffee-table book that explores the dazzling designs that emerged from the jeweler in the first half of the 20th century. Almost 700 jewelry and watch images are included alongside 200 archival documents, from 1920s timepieces and bracelets infused with Art Deco styling to early advertisements and mid-century jewels that continue to enjoy high-wattage attention to this day. For proof of the latter, look no further than Margot Robbie wearing a version of the house’s iconic Zip necklace to the 2015 Academy Awards, while at the 2022 Oscars, Caitríona Balfe wore a 1957 diamond necklace that highlights Van Cleef & Arpels’ bow and ribbon motifs. And at December’s Fashion Awards in London, Gwyneth Paltrow paired her crimson Valentino gown and feathered coat with ruby and diamond Van Cleef & Arpels jewels from the 1960s.

Margot Robbie, wearing a Zip necklace by Van Cleef & Arpels, at the 87th Annual Academy Awards in 2015. FRAZER HARRISON/GETTY IMAGES

A Van Cleef & Arpels Zip necklace from 1952, crafted of emeralds and diamonds set in 18-karat yellow gold and platinum. COURTESY OF VAN CLEEF & ARPELS

The 678-page book offers a deep dive into these and other pieces that continue to be sought after, sometimes a full century after their debut. The sapphire and diamond Zip necklace worn by Robbie, for example, takes its cue from a design that got its start in the 1930s, when the ultra-stylish Simpson suggested to then-creative director Renée Puissant the creation of a necklace that both looked and could operate as a zipper might. The technical mastery required for a jewel that could fully function like a zipper took a full 12 years, however, with the first Zip necklace debuting in 1951. (Viewers of the 1930s-set The King’s Speech, which includes actress Eve Best as Simpson, will see that character wearing an all-diamond Van Cleef & Arpels Zip necklace elegantly draped down her back, creating one of the 2010 film’s most stylish — if anachronistic — moments.)

Van Cleef & Arpels 1936 Fleur brooch, crafted of mystery-set rubies and diamonds set in 18-karat white and yellow gold. COURTESY OF VAN CLEEF & ARPELS

In addition to its celebrated Ballerina clips, jeweled timepieces and other high-wattage designs, the book also pays ample attention to the house’s Mystery Set collection, named for the intricate technique that eliminates the sight of any prongs on the design’s surface. Patented by Van Cleef & Arpels in 1933, mystery-set designs quickly gained popularity among its well-heeled clientele, even as the house’s artisans continued to refine and evolve the technique so it could be employed in pieces that felt more three-dimensional. A 1936 ruby and diamond Fleur brooch, released soon after a second patent was acquired that same year, ultimately was deemed worthy of the book’s cover.

The cover of The Van Cleef & Arpels Collection: 1906-1953. COURTESY OF VAN CLEEF & ARPELS

“This brooch was created [in 1936 and] is thus one of the first examples of this groundbreaking development,” explains Nicolas Bos, president and CEO of Van Cleef & Arpels. “As an example of the way in which technical evolutions exert an influence on style, this piece — one of the oldest Mystery Set creations in our possession — perfectly expresses the very essence of this book. It was acquired by the Patrimony department just as we were completing the first volume, so we naturally thought of it for the cover.”

Bos also notes that the book’s compilation has been in the works for five decades, originating in the 1970s and refined over the years as it continued to be deeply researched by the Van Cleef & Arpels Patrimony department, which oversees the house’s heritage and archives. “This patrimonial Collection – today made up of over 2,700 pieces – is representative of Van Cleef & Arpels’ creations in terms of inspirations, materials, and techniques,” Bos says. “It is for that reason that this work takes the form of a catalogue raisonné: the most comprehensive possible compendium of an artist’s work.”

Caitríona Balfe, wearing Van Cleef & Arpels jewels, including a 1957 necklace crafted of diamonds set in 18-karat white gold and platinum, at the 94th Annual Academy Awards in 2022. MOMODU MANSARAY/GETTY IMAGES

Divided into a trio of hefty chapters, the book kicks off with “The Creative Boom (1906 – 1925),” which highlights a variety of Art Deco-influenced designs, several of which were showcased in a 1925 Paris exhibition of decorative and industrial arts. Chapters two and three explore “A Unique Identity (1926 – 1937),” which explores the development of the singular Van Cleef & Arpels aesthetic, and “From Paris to New York (1938 – 1953),” which highlights the house’s expansion into the U.S., including its inclusion in the New York World’s Fair of 1939. A second volume, which covers the years 1954 through 2000, is expected to be released in 2026, Bos adds.

Platinum-set emerald and diamond Van Cleef & Arpels bracelet from 1925. COURTESY OF VAN CLEEF & ARPELS

Throughout, the book is lavish in its inclusion of archive images and newly photographed jewels, the latter part of a parallel project to create a comprehensive look at Van Cleef & Arpels’ history through its designs. “We wanted the illustrative record to be exhaustive: optimal picture quality, harmonious visual images, pieces photographed from different angles,” Bos says. “Visually, we have treated this book like the catalogue of an exhibition, in which the jewelry creations and archive material complement one another.”

A Van Cleef & Arpels advertisement that appeared in a 1939 issue of French Vogue. COURTESY OF VAN CLEEF & ARPELS

Ultimately Bos says he believes both this book and its subsequent sister volume will further a key Van Cleef & Arpels goal. “Through these initiatives, we hope to show that jewelry is not an isolated art,” he notes. “It is in constant interaction with other disciplines, which inspire it and which it influences in return. As such, it forms part of the great history of the arts.”

The Van Cleef & Arpels Collection (1906-1953) is available now.

Gwyneth Paltrow, wearing vintage Van Cleef & Arpels earrings from the 1960s, attended The Fashion Awards 2023 at the Royal Albert Hall on Dec. 4, 2023 in London. DOMINIC LIPINSKI/GETTY IMAGES

The Hollywood Reporter

Remember… the book’s compilation has been in the works for five decades, originating in the 1970s and refined over the years as it continued to be deeply researched by the Van Cleef & Arpels Patrimony department, which oversees the house’s heritage and archives. — Nicolas Bos, President & CEO, Van Cleef & Arpels

[tangerinesgirl]

Black Heaven

Chapter 1

Adam 'Frank' Barrett x FemAFAB!Reader

Rating: 18+, dubious content, NSFW

Word count: 700, bite size chapter as a lil tease

Summary: Set in an AU after the events of Abigail, but Frank survives. He starts making his way up the ladder and wants to start a war between him and an existing crime boss, so he kidnaps his daughter; the reader.

Warnings: rape/non con (for now! maybe reader gets more into it later, who knows), mobster elements, smut, exhibitionism, sadism, masochism, sunlight kink, spit kink/spit as lube, lewd acts in a church/religion kink (more on this later)

Notes: This is pure filth I'm sorry (plot what plot). And I have a lot more in mind, so buckle in. I'm still using the name Frank instead of Adam as I'm kinda imagining him keeping the name.

Edit: This fic has now been discontinued, thanks everyone for your continued support.

🦇

You start to regain consciousness as your feet drag painfully across the stone floor. Two men dragging you by your arms. You squint, realising you're in a church, being roughly escorted down the aisle of pews. You yelp in pain as the men slam you down onto your knees as you reach the altar.

Your hair falls over your eyes, as you flick your head back to move it out of the way, you see Frank. He's sat on the steps. Well, sat is putting it politely. His legs are wide open, the deep red robe he is wearing barely covering his modesty. His bare feet separated by three different steps, one pointing to the ground and the other one parallel to his arm, resting on his knee. His other hand caressing his chest underneath his robe. He praises the men for their work as they walk away, laying low in the shadows against the church walls, in case of trouble.

The light streams in from the stained glass window above the altar, lighting you angelically. Frank takes a moment, drinking you in, thinking. You decide to break the silence, "Where am I?".

"Do you like it? I thought it was pretty ironic". Frank gets up with a groan, his feet pattering on the stone steps, walking towards you. He lifts a finger towards the light from the window. It starts to steam up instantly as Frank pulls it away quickly. He swears under his breath, but not in a painful way. "Do you know why you're here?", he asks.

You roll your eyes, "Money". This isn't your first abduction being born into a crime family, it's always about the ransom money, it never ends well. Frank laughs, he opens his arms and spins around looking at his place, "What makes you think I need the money?"

Sunset starts creeping in, the light from the window starts to sink, the same time your heart does. You're confused what you've ever done to Frank, "then what?".

Frank bends down to whisper in your ear, "I just want to have some fun with you, send you back to your daddy, maybe in a box, if you decide to behave or not".

You turn your head to face his, "You really don't want to do that. You'll start a war".

Frank tilts his head, "Maybe that's what I want sweetheart. Besides, I haven't broken the place in yet". The last of the sunlight skims across your body as Frank drags his hand across your chest, exposing your breast. His hand smokes a little at first, but completely stops as the sun sets. He rolls your nipple between his fingers as you look up at him, defiantly. He smiles, he can't wait to play with his new toy, break it, and hopefully fix it. Moulding you into something else, something useful, infiltrating and feeding information back to him. You could rule over the empire together, and maybe give you a little upgrade.

Frank snaps out of his thoughts when you suddenly grab his arm and twist it backwards. The two men draw their guns, but Frank holds up his hand for them to stop. He releases his arm from your grip and squats down in front of you. He takes a moment, observing you.

You decide to break the silence, "Are you going to say some cliché shit about joining you?"

Frank shakes his head, "I wasn't planning on asking".

An anger brews deep inside you, drowning out the pit of fear in your stomach. Before you can even think about what you're doing, you spit in Frank's face.

You can hear the two men release the safety locks on their guns, holding steady.

Frank wipes the saliva from his face and starts palming his cock with the same hand. He never breaks his gaze from you while doing this. You try to remain somewhat calm watching his little show, not giving him any satisfaction. You plaster a scowl on your face as he uses your spit as lube.

Suddenly, Frank stops to grab your hair, bending your neck backwards. He invades your space, you can feel his cock through his robes brushing against your exposed breast. "I ought to teach you a lesson for that". He forces your mouth open and spits into it in retaliation. You writhe under him as he forces your mouth close, whispering for you to swallow. You have to eventually. When you do, he pats your cheek with a little "good girl".

[emyn-arnens]

No need to do this because I already got one, but if it inspires, any character(s) + Angband (and area) + 'shadows of madness and despair'. (You did say darker ones...)

An age later, here this is! An AU with Finrod and Sauron in Angband, ~700 words | AO3.

Finrod stood in the dark of his cell, searching. A hushed song fell from his cracked lips. Its notes buried themselves deep within the stones and mortar of his cell, probing for fissures and points of weakness.

In whispered words, he sang of loosening, of breaking, of splitting, of falling free, of light piercing the shadows. The stones trembled at his voice, and his chains shivered against his skin. Dust trickled over his fingertips, pressed against the stone wall behind him. He scratched at a line of mortar with his fingernail as he sang, and a spray of dust fell upon his hands.

He sang of the lashing rain throwing down great rocks in mountain passes, of the flash of lightning cleaving mighty trees in two, of the thunder of cavalry rattling the mountainsides, of the howling of wind splitting strong walls asunder. The stones of his cell danced and quivered in response, and dust and shards of stone fell like rain, biting into his bare skin.

Finrod sang louder, until the stones shook with both the power of his song and the ringing of his voice.

And then, in an instant, the stones fell silent and still, and his voice died in his throat.

Shadows, darker than those he already stood in, gathered in a corner of his cell, and from them came a voice: “Thou hast great power in thy voice, but it will not avail thee.” The shadows twisted and coiled, and from them stepped his captor.

Finrod bore Sauron’s mocking appraisal in silence. 

Sauron circled him, the shadows following him like the swish of a cloak. He tipped a clawed finger beneath Finrod’s chin and looked deep into his eyes, searching. His own eyes burned like the hearts of embers.

Shadows and whispers pressed upon Finrod’s mind, probing, prying. He held his mind silent and still.

Sauron tilted his head. He lifted his hand to Finrod’s face, studying it with appreciation, and the slow stroke of his fingers down the side of Finrod’s face was like a caress, even as the tips of his claws drew beads of blood from Finrod’s skin. “Wast thou a king? Thou hast a kingly bearing.”

Finrod did not speak.

Sauron gripped his chin and leaned closer until his breath stirred Finrod’s hair, lying lank against his neck and shoulders. “Thy tongue is better suited to song than silence,” he murmured. His words skittered over Finrod’s skin like the grazing of claws. He released Finrod and stepped back, a smile playing upon his lips. “Sing for me, little king.”

Finrod did not speak.

Sauron’s smile spread. “If thou dost not wish to sing of thy own doing, I can aid thee in loosening thy tongue.” 

The shadows that clung to him peeled away, and in an instant, they seized Finrod’s throat and forced open his jaw, and a cry tore from his lips.

“Sing.” The command filled the cell until the stones trembled.

Finrod’s voice tore from his throat despite himself, and he sang. He sang until his tongue was thick with dust, until his lips cracked and bled, and until his voice was no more. He sang until his limbs shook and trembled, and he sagged in his chains, utterly spent.

Only then did the shadows about his throat relent and slink back to their master.

Sauron cupped Finrod’s face in his hand, and his eyes burned into Finrod’s. “I will learn thy true name in time, and thou wilt come to do my bidding of thine own will.”

Finrod’s tongue was too heavy to respond.

Sauron brushed his fingers over Finrod’s lips and then smiled, sudden and sharp. “Dost thou thirst?” The sound of falling water filled the cell, and a rivulet of water trickled from a crack in the wall mere feet away from Finrod.

Sauron vanished as quickly as he had appeared, and Finrod stood alone in his cell once more. He strained at his chains, but though he strained until his limbs burned, the trickle of water evaded his reach, and he collapsed against the wall more weary and parched than he had been.

The rivulet of water disappeared. Lilting laughter echoed about the stone walls of his cell. How foolish thou art, little king.

And all through the night came the sound of gently falling rain, though not a single drop fell upon Finrod's skin.

[cowboymaterials]

The U.S. military’s recent $35 million contract to do construction at its secret base in Israel went to a joint venture that includes an American firm and an Israeli one. The Israeli company, Y.D. Ashush Infrastructure, has been involved in many large-scale infrastructure and public works projects — including building an illegal settlement in occupied Palestinian territory.

In a section on its website touting its projects, Ashush mentions construction work in the settlement of Leshem. Originally planned to include nearly 700 homes, Leshem was constructed in the 2010s as a satellite of Alei Zahav, a settlement established in 1982. 

“I estimate that Leshem has tripled the number of settlers in Alei Zahav.”

“Leshem is an Israeli settlement that was established in 2010, officially as a ‘neighborhood’ of an older settlement called Alei Zahav,” Dror Etkes — founder of Kerem Navot, an Israeli organization that monitors Israeli land policy in the West Bank — told The Intercept. Etkes said describing new communities as “neighborhoods” was a “trick” used by settlers to make it look like no new settlement was being constructed, since such moves have often drawn international condemnation. [...]

Leshem has been in the news in recent years for hostility to its neighboring Palestinian villages. In 2020, the settlement was accused of deliberately dumping its sewage into the farmlands of nearby Deir Ballut, preventing its olive harvest and destroying trees, some of which date back to Roman times. [...]

Considered illegal under international law and by nearly every country in the world apart from the U.S. and Israel, settlements have continued to grow even as international opinion tilts strongly against them. An occupying military force like Israel transferring civilian populations into occupied territory such as the West Bank is a war crime under the Fourth Geneva Convention. [...]

The company was referenced in the Pentagon’s August 2 contract announcement for the construction of a “life-support area” in Israel. Other documents revealed this to be a euphemism for the construction of barracks-like facilities to house U.S. military personnel on its unacknowledged base deep in the Negev desert, code-named “Site 512,” as The Intercept reported. Four other bids were considered, according to the Defense Department’s contract announcement.

It is not clear how much of the $35 million joint venture contract, shared with the Colorado construction company Bryan Construction, went to Ashush. Bryan Construction did not respond to requests for comment. Ashush does not appear in public databases that track U.S. government contracts, meaning there is no transparency around how much public money is flowing to the company. [...]

In 2015, when U.S. diplomats investigated allegations of vandalism, including the uprooting of thousands of Palestinian-owned olive trees in the West Bank by settlers from an Israeli “outpost,” the settlers assaulted them with stones. Though the State Department confirmed the incident and provided a video to Israeli authorities, the controversial head of the Samaria Regional Council Yossi Dagan, an ally of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, called for the diplomats’ expulsion, accusing them of being spies.

“The land which the settlement is sitting on was looted by the Israeli government from two Palestinian communities.”

A report from January 2022 described settlers from Alei Zahav destroying a Palestinian farmer’s olive trees with assistance from the Israeli military. The military, at the behest of the settlers, ordered the farmer off the land and seized a tractor, claiming that the land was owned by the Israeli state. 

“The land which the settlement is sitting on was looted by the Israeli government from two Palestinian communities … in the 1980s by declaring it as ‘state land,’ which was allocated to Alei Zahav later,” said Etkes, the Israeli expert on settlements.

Months later, in July, another report described settlers destroying another nearby farm.

November 3, 2023

[uh-niran-really]

Lifeweaver - Disappointment

Content: Angst with small fluff at the end. Talks about themes of being a family disappointment and healing from that.

Word Count: 700+

A/N: This is a bit of a vent fic for myself. I can relate to Niran in so many ways it hurts. For the record, I think Niran’s parents would have supported his Pansexuality eventually, but maybe would have been concerned because he is their oldest son. I tried to talk about the burning pressure that is placed on older siblings and the struggle to break free from those ridiculous expectations. I just know Satya would break character to show her best friend he is loved and doesn’t need to confirm to his parents ideals.

“Well.. Off to disappoint my mother again.”

“When have you ever been a disappointment, Bua?”

Niran sighed at his dearest friend, leaning against the stone balcony railing. She looked up at him with such a puzzled look trying to understand how he, a brilliant scientist could possibly ever be a disappointment. He invented living light, so powerful it had the potential to heal the world and rid it off pain.

“When you grow up with.. harsh expectations in a world where you are expected to uphold ridiculous family values.. it gets a little easy for parents to label you as a disappointment dearest.”

“That’s stupid.”

“I know my family love me, they just have a weird way of showing their love. That’s why they sent me to Vishkar after all. To teach me respect and discipline. I don’t think they bargained on me changing quite as much as I did though.”

Niran had grown up with a golden spoon in his mouth. He never had to worry about going hungry, or where he would sleep that night. He was always safe. His family influence set him up for a life of comfort. A socialite in the making. A life he didn’t want.

“I was first labeled a disappointment when they realised I didn’t conform to their ideals and views. The second time being when I came out as Pansexual, though later it was accepted.. but the die had been cast. The third time was when I left Vishkar. I’ll never forget my mother’s angry words Satya.. ‘You are such a disappointment Niran.’ I think about it a lot.”

“Niran..”

“It’s fine really. Some types the way you’re viewed is enough to fuel you to spark change. When we first met you viewed me a spoilt little brat, and now you don’t. One day my parents will be proud. I just need to work hard to show them their love wasn’t wasted.”

Satya reached out to pat his back but hesitated. He was deep in thought staring off into the world below. The balcony gave him a mystical view showing him both the beauty and the ugliness of the world. He was hurting and she didn’t know how to help him, so she tried her hardest to think of something to say. Something meaningful, something unlike her.

“Niran, when I look at you I see resilience. I see resolve, and a strong one. I can say that your family are foolish for hurting you this way. Your family don’t know you like I do..”

She began to stim until she saw him smile, a sign she had at least done something right. She adored her best friend. They had such a tight bond that could only be described as platonic love.

“Thank you, Satya.”

“Now can you stop moping around like a sad puppy and come back inside? This party is for you after all.”

The party was to celebrate Niran’s breakthrough. He had worked so hard, and should be celebrating, yet here he was lost in deep depressing thought.

“I wish they were proud of me Satya. Thank you for being my friend. For a while, I thought I disappointed you too beca-“

Satya hugged him tightly around his waist cutting off his words. They had hugged in the past sure, but this one felt different. She was hurting because of his words. Not because of what he said to her, but because of how they displayed his emotions. She wanted him to be okay. He hugged her back too, tears threatening to spill. He could always be vulnerable with his best friend.

“You will never be a disappointment to me Niran. Never.”

She held her friend tighter as he sobbed feeling better for the first time in years. Her words meant to much to him. In a world where they had both been meant to thrive, at one point in time both had suffered. They understood eachother better than anyone ever could. Satya was his family, she always had been.

“I’m proud of you, Bua.”

Niran dropped to his knees dragging her down too, crying out from almost thirty years of pain. Finally allowing himself to heal. Niran was a support sure, but Satya was his support. That’s all he needed.

[annie-creates]

Only for tonight

Pairing: Queen Ravenna x child reader (platonic)

Genre: fluff

Words: 700

Note: After a little while I'm back with another request, I don't know if this is exactly what you had in mind and it's a little short but I hope you'll like it. Thank you for still liking my work and as always send in any requests that come to mind, I'm feeling terribly uninspired lately.

The queen’s patience was running thin. Day and night she searched the whole kingdom piece by piece for Snow White, but she was still coming back empty handed. As if the earth swallowed her whole, as if there was some kind of spell hiding her from the monarch’s sight. Woods, fields and rivers were thoroughly searched and yet not even a trace of the traitor was found. If she doesn’t catch her soon, the kingdom will know Snow White escaped her wrath and what will force them to follow her rule and orders then? Knowing people can get away with disobeying?

That’s how she found herself in the deep forests once again, too tired of the work to disguise her real resemblance. It wasn’t likely anyone innocent would wonder deep enough to actually see her anyway. Everyone knew the woods were unwelcoming and scary, trees that could talk and branches that could catch you, and if you weren’t careful enough you were unlikely to ever find your way out again. Lost in thought she registered the excited childish babbling too late, coming face to face with a little girl who couldn’t be older than six winters. The child was happily singing notes she didn’t recognize, jumping around with a single daisy in her hand.

“Well hello there,” the queen greeted shaking herself from the initial shock. “Where are your parents, little child?”

Hoping the adults who must have left the child unattended could point her in the direction of the girl she was actually looking for, she questioned the kid, who just threw up her hands in response. With mumbled words she explained there are no parents, something hard to believe for Ravenna. Who with a heart purer than hers would leave such a cute child alone?

“Oh, then do you live somewhere around? Where’s your house?” She was desperately trying to not get influenced by the sweetness and innocence in front of her eyes, but that was a battle with herself she was clearly losing.

Once again the answer was a very polite no, the child was clearly too young to understand in how dangerous situation they are, and how easy it would be for them to get hurt, or worse get eaten by something. Against her better judgement she picked the child up, who gave her excited giggles in response, and understanding she won’t find her original family she took her back to the castle with her. Even the cruelest person wouldn’t let a little innocent child get hurt for nothing, right? It wasn’t right to leave her there with nothing and no one.

The little girl seemed unbothered by the change of environment, even though the hard castle floors were not as gentle as the mosses of the forest and the stone walls didn’t provide the same warmth as the afternoon sun over the green leaves. With nothing as interesting in the almost empty throne room the child got bored pretty fast, dangling her legs from the chair with a bored sigh.

“Maid!” the queen called, one of her servants hurrying into the room. “Bring the little princess something to do, some pictures and pencils to color or plasticine to play with.”

Aside from her innocent excitement, her good table etiquette was another thing that pleasantly surprised the woman at the dinnertime. The girl ate with a knife and fork, elbows off the table, just like the queen was thought herself as a young child. The night time was the moment that appeared to make the first difficulties. The little girl was seemingly scared to go to sleep, even when the bed was prepared warm and cozy.

“What is it, why don’t you want to go to bed?” Ravenna questioned her sitting at the side of her duvets.

“Am scared. Rena sleep here?” the little lady admitted, patting the space in bed next to her.

“I have my own bed to return to,” the queen refused gently.

“Pwease?” how could anyone say no to those sad puppy eyes?

“Ugh, okay, but only for tonight,” Ravenna warned her before getting in bed next to her and hugging the child to her, Snow White long gone from her mind.

[theoutcastedartist]

Hello, I love your Anathema AU.

What does Anathema mean? Why you chose that title? And did Wukong just kidnap Macaque while he wandering or from his home?

THANK YOU! I'm glad yourself and others are enjoying the AU, which is VERY Macaque focused.

The AU's name, "Anathema", in this case has more to do with something or someone that inspires extreme dislike.

Though, it is often used in conjunction with religion when referring to an ecclesiastical curse typically followed by excommunication. Shunned to damnation.

But it's common definition "extreme detest or loathing of someone or something"

The stone Macaque emerged from contained an ancient evil entity shunned and sealed away by the absolute highest in the celestial court. Very few know about the existence of this particular entity, it takes on the forms of many other malevolent beings.

This entity, has slowly been trying to possess Liu'er Mihou. Since the minute the six eared monkey came to exist.

It is also the reason for Macaque's shadow-y powers. The stronger the entity becomes in its possession, the stronger Macaque's shadow magic become, the darker his fur becomes.

(Originally Liu'er Mihou was a snow-white macaque)

Both this entity and Macaque have been shunned and looked upon with deep hatred over the centuries.

The entity by the Heavenly Court's highest.

Macaque the minute he was taken away by The Old Chief Monkey's peaceful troop by the Demon King of Havoc, has been met with scorn and disgust. Used as a tool for others, no true will of his own...

Until he killed The Demon King of Havoc after 700 years of being his prisoner.

Macaque had been on the run since then, many of Havoc's followers were looking to have his head.

Sun Wukong, the Young, Handsome Monkey King of Flower Fruit Mountain, happened to be flying by on his mystic cloud at the right time.

Six-Eared Macaque had been attacked; cornered and injured, with broken, rusted, enchanted chains cuffed to his wrists, from the fault one of the deceased Havoc's most loyal followers. A monkey accompanying Wukong spotted him and they came to his rescue.

And then just took him to Flower Fruit Mountain, because Sun Wukong will, of course, be Sun Wukong. Impulsive, but well meaning.

But it's not like Macaque has anywhere to go anyway, his home has been burned to the ground centuries ago and believes that everyone he once loved before is dead.

[in-the-shadow-of-the-blog]

Caught in the Rain (Sebastian Edition)

-OR-

In the Shadow of Rain Clouds

Summary: Sebastian and MC are on a shopping trip to Hogsmeade, but it looks like rain… (Sebastian Sallow x f!MC)

Rating: PG

Warnings: Kissing in public

Word Count: 700

—

The clouds gathering above Hogsmeade cast cozy shadows inside Tomes and Scrolls. MC yearned to take a seat by the fire and spend the rest of the afternoon reading, Sebastian by her side. They only had a few hours to spend in the village, and the afternoon was growing late already.

She scanned the shelves, waiting for a title to catch her eye while Sebastian stood at the counter talking to Mr. Brown. “Were you able to get that book I asked about?”

“Just came in yesterday, actually,” the shopkeeper said, rummaging around behind the desk. He set a small package wrapped in brown paper and tied with string on the counter and Sebastian smiled.

“Excellent.”

MC watched from the corner of her eye as he paid for the book without removing the paper to reveal what was inside. Curiosity ate at her, fed by a small amount of apprehension. Did he not want her to know what it was? Would she disapprove?

Shaking it from her mind, MC brought her own selections to Mr. Brown and paid.

“Where to next?” Sebastian asked, holding the door open for her.

“Honeydukes?” MC suggested hopefully, leading him up the high street.

Sebastian looked at her with a knowing grin. “Of course. We should hurry before it starts-“ a raindrop splattered against his cheek. “Raining.”

Taking her hand so they wouldn’t get separated, Sebastian pulled her up the street. They found shelter outside the village square, pausing to catch their breath.There was just enough room for them underneath the stone archway, backs pressed against the brick across from Glad Rags.

Stay droplets left wet circles on their clothes and faces. Sebastian put his arm around MC, pulling her close so they could center themselves better. She leaned her head on his shoulder, perfectly happy to be surrounded by him and the sound of the rain.

“I suppose this is as good a time as any.” Sebastian drew the paper-wrapped book from its hiding place in his robes, where it had been spared from the rain. “This is for you.”

MC looked down at the parcel he pressed into her hands, eyes widening with surprise. “Sebastian, you shouldn’t have.”

“Oh, hush. Open it.”

Paper and string rustled under her fingers as she peeled back the wrapping. A light green covered stared up at her, with a title she didn’t recognize.

“The Tales of Beedle the Bard?” MC looked from the book to Sebastian. The excitement in his eyes was contagious, but she still didn’t know exactly what she was holding.

“It’s a collection of children’s stories. Something of a classic,” Sebastian explained. “Most witches and wizards grow up hearing these at bedtime. I didn’t want you to miss out just because you grew up with muggles.”

Tears pricked at MC’s eyes as she traced the letters stamped into the cover. She had told Sebastian how much she loved reading muggle fairy tales, but she never knew a book like this existed. And she’d had the nerve to wonder if he was hiding something wicked from her. “Thank you, Sebastian. I love it.”

His other hand rose to cradle her cheek, his brown eyes gazing into hers. “And I love that smile.”

Sebastian’s lips grazed hers, a barely-there kiss that was either a question or a promise. With one hand holding the book to her chest, the other gripped the front of Sebastian’s robes. She pulled him into another kiss, deep and hungry, and his hand slid from her cheek to tangle in her hair.

“Get a room!”

Startled, they parted and looked over at an unfamiliar Ravenclaw standing in the door to Glad Rags.

“Mind your business, mate!” Sebastian called over. He looked back at MC. “Should know it only makes me want to kiss you more.”

Their lips met again, though the reminder they were in public removed a little of the heat between them. MC broke away first, breathless when she spoke.

“I think the rain is stopping.”

“So?”

MC blushed as the words left her lips. “So maybe we could go somewhere a little more private.”

A grin bloomed on Sebastian’s face as he took her hand. “Your wish is my command.”

—

A/N: I’m thinking of making this into a series where I take the same idea and write a little vignette for each of the boys. Is that something y’all would be interested in?

Masterlist

Ominis Edition | Garreth Edition

[zyxelia]

Curse

Pairing: Junpei Yoshino X Female! Reader

WC: ~700

Summary: Watching someone you love pass away is a necessary part of being immortal. Nevertheless, a mystery man enters your life and reminds you to appreciate life just when you are about to close your heart to it. What a suprise! Possibly, your life will become less dull, right?

Immortality, once thought a gift, proves a curse as time passes. The word "immortal" falsely allures, hinting at a life free of death's specter. But reality differs—an immortal existence means traveling alone, helplessly watching loved ones depart, with no one to share your grief.

Fearful humanity labels the unfamiliar "monster," a daily insult as I walk among them. I retreated to a tower deep in the forest, a haven far from civilizations din.

Loneliness, my constant companion, led me to ancient books of spells and experiments recorded in journals. A fleeting distraction from the outside world, but the respite was brief. After endless trials and hypotheses, boredom returned.

What if I just slept?

Centuries or millennia drift by as I slumber in the abyss, losing track of time's passage. The tower's stone walls chill; silence reigns but for my breath and heartbeat. Once orderly books now lie beneath dusts shroud. Moonlight filters through the window, casting an ethereal glow on the overgrown plants.

Stirring from my long stillness, a distant sound emerges from the tower's heart—a man's voice, its purpose unclear. Mustering my strength, I climb the winding stairs to the base where a disheveled figure dances wildly.

"What are you doing?" I ask the trespasser.

"Why have you come?" Startled, he stumbles back as I approach. His eyes avoid mine, keeping distance between us.

"You've broken the tower wall," I note, eyeing the large breach. Chaos sprawls in its wake."I—I'm sorry," he stutters. "Forgive me, uh..."

"[Your name]."

"Sorry, [Your name]."

I study him in silence. Sensing my gaze, he extends his hand awkwardly. I return the gesture. "I'm Junpei, Junpei Yoshino"

"Junpei Yoshino? A lovely name—your parents no doubt chose it with care." He blushes at my words. "Why have you come?" I ask.

"I heard tales of a witch in the forest. Curiosity brought me to see for myself," he explains. "By damaging your home, I sincerely apologize."

"Well now, It's done, isn't?" I reply. "Now, what do you want?"

"I...wonder if I could visit you here daily?"

"... Yes, come when you like."

From then on, Junpei Yoshino came often, telling me of his life and asking about my past exploits. He happily joined my magical feats and experiments, replacing my solitude with shared laughter. Time flourished with his presence, dull days becoming vivid canvases. Silence and isolation shifted into echoes of joy and companionship.

"[Your name]," Junpei Yoshino says, gazing at the flower-strewn field. Blushing, he asks, "Will you...be my lover?" His words catch me off guard. He looks at the dandelion-covered ground, clearly nervous. Seeing him anew, he seems older than our first meeting—stronger, deeper-voiced, more mature.

Yet his kindness remains constant.

"Without doubt, Junpei Yoshino," I smile, filled with wordless happiness. A breeze stirs, tossing my hair.

"Why do you call me that? Are we still in the full name phase?"

"No, your name is just beautiful" upon hearing that, he blushes.

White dandelions sway as if dancing. Some take flight, following nature's rhythm. Junpei Yoshino grins, eyes glistening with tears. From that moment, we are bound.

But these cherished dreams reach their end. Kneeling at his tombstone in the rain, I grapple with the inevitable—he left me bereft. An ordinary human, gone, leaving me alone.

Once more, solitude prevails. Eons pass. All once living now dwell only in memory.

At dusk, the tranquil city bustles with activity. A modest bakery tempts me with its aroma, beckoning me inside. "Enjoy!" says the clerk, handing me my purchase. As I turn to leave, a familiar figure catches my eye—Junpei Yoshino sits alone by the window. Does he still bear that name? Or has he taken another?

Feeling uneasy, I approach, trying to speak his name when another voice interrupts. "Sorry for the wait, darling!" The bakery door opens with a jingle. Junpei Yoshino looks up, welcoming a woman who rushes to embrace him, saying she missed him.

"I missed you too," he chuckles, stroking her hair. "Let's sit and talk about your day." He kisses her forehead and she blushes, sitting down.

Silently I watch. His smiles, laughter, gaze—everything echoes the past.

Except now it's not for me.

I leave the bakery, walking the bustling streets alone. A serene, uninhabited hill on the city's edge draws me. At the summit, I sit beneath a tree and contemplate the sunset's orange hues. Beside me lies the bread I purchased. Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply.

"Even now, destiny weaves its whims."

[sallysavestheday]

20 questions for fic writers

Thanks very much to @nocompromise-noregrets for the tag! This is always an interesting exercise and I haven't done it in a while.

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 182, but a goodly subset of those are collections of very short works (drabbles, my beloveds!).

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 137,372. I average around 700 words per ficlet (counting those that are collections of drabbles). I have only two works over 2,000 words -- one at barely 2,100 and one at 5,600 by dint of TRSB last summer.

3. What fandoms do you write for? Tolkien only. Mostly Silmarillion but occasionally Lord of the Rings, as well.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? I'm splitting this by fandom because the older LoTR stuff has more kudos simply as a function of time.

For LoTR: Deep in the Ancient Forests of the World; Light a Little Fire in Me; I Do Not Grudge You the Game; Rash Words and Bitter Hopes; Sing, O Stone and Air. These are all Legolas/Gimli ficlets.

For Silm: When All Other Lights Go Out (the aforementioned TRSB Feanorian family drama); What We Make, Makes Us (Caranthir and Feanor); What Keeps Us Here (Celeborn and Thranduil); Still Plenty of Good in the World (Sam Gamgee fixes Feanor and Nerdanel); and It Is the Opinion of this Reviewer (Finrod critiques the research of his peers).

No method to the madness here, it seems. Some shippy, most not. Some angsty, some humorous, mostly canon compliant. Range of Silm characters. Interesting to see the variety, actually.

5. Do you respond to comments? Always. Usually within a few days. Comments are a great way to get to know other people in the fandom, and it's always a pleasure to see familiar names pop up. It's nice to know I have a bit of a following. But I also love seeing new people appear, and I welcome everything from a single emoji to a full blown rant. I reply to them all.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Only one? Impossible to choose. I love an angsty ending. Killing Fingon off is always a delight (like this, or this). Sending people off to their dooms (like this, or this) is another. Making them consider might-have-beens, too (like this, or this, or this).

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I do also like happy endings! I write many happy post-canon returns, to tie up all the loose ends. Also happy moments within canon, but you usually have to pretend you don't know what comes next (blame the Professor, not me). For LoTR, These Our Braided Lives has a very happy Gimleaf ending. For Silm, try In These Altered States, Rejoice.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Spitting over my shoulder on this one, but no. Even the people who don't agree with my takes on particular characters have always been polite. Thank you, kind readers!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I don't write anything explicit. I'll read a wide variety but am more restrained in my writing. I've snuck a little bit into the mature range for a few things recently, but I prefer allusion and metaphor, really. It's the spirit of the intimacy that interests me, not so much the mechanics.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Nope. Canon compliant or canon adjacent always.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, I've had a few requests. My Thranduil seems to be quite popular in other languages.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I haven't but would be happy to explore the possibility.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Can't pick just one. Legolas/Gimli, Glorfindel/Ecthelion, Maedhros/Fingon, Finrod/Edrahil. The much rarer Egalmoth/Rog. And I'm pleased to have originated the tag for Amrod/Aredhel. Spitfire fans, get on that! (thanks to chestnut_pod for the horrible, wonderful ship name)

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Not a WIP, even, just an idea that I've mentioned before: an AU in which Fingon, returning from Thangorodrim with Maedhros, can't hold onto him, and he falls from the eagle's back into Lake Mithrim. I won't write it, but I sure hope someone else will.

16. What are your writing strengths? Brevity, ha! Condensing a great deal of emotional development into very few words. Figurative language. Ripping your heart out and stomping on it, tidily.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Dialogue. I don't write much of it, and it takes a long time to get it right.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I'm not likely to do so. I don't like the way it interrupts the flow. I'd rather indicate the language that is being spoken than try to craft compelling dialogue in it. This is especially fraught in the Tolkien fandoms, where the linguists WILL come for you if you get it wrong, lol!

19. First fandom you wrote for? LoTR. I've only been doing this for a couple of years.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? Impossible to choose! But my comfort series is The Flower and the Fountain: 16,000 words of Glorfindel and Ecthelion in 32 vignettes. I love those guys.

Thank you so much for the tag! @polutrope @eilinelsghost @melestasflight @tathrin @thelordofgifs @zealouswerewolfcollector, what about you? And anyone else who'd like to share, hop in!