#Custom Luxury Homes by the Sea

[cedarcoastcanada]

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[v6quewrlds]

❝ all that matters, j. burrow. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: joe burrow will always be a stubborn, ohio boy. even when his wife's brother is a 4-time nba champion for the cav's rival team.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: this was a cute request sent in by an anon. i had so much fun writing this one. might turn this into a cute little mini-series that i revisit every now and then, we'll see though.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: fluff, some language, joe wears cavs colors to a warriors home game.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: joe burrow x curry!reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 3k.

You leaned into the bathroom mirror, your hazel eyes scrutinizing the smudge of mascara you had just applied. It was a rare evening when you had the luxury to play around with your makeup products; the rigors of your soccer schedule usually had you rushing from the pitch to your London flat and back without much time to breathe. But tonight, you had promised Joe something special: a date night.

The youngest of the Curry siblings, you had grown up in the shadow of your older brother's fame, but now you were a star in your own right, a forward for Chelsea FC, making waves across the pond.

Your honey-blonde hair, the result of your most recent self-care Thursday, was pulled into a sleek ponytail, and you adjusted your custom Warriors letterman jacket with a smile. It was a nod to your brother and the Curry family's accomplishments, but more importantly, it was a declaration of where your allegiance lay tonight.

Joe emerged from the walk-in closet, grinning wide as his blue eyes crinkled, wearing a wine and gold vintage Cavs shirt underneath a black jacket. "Ready to rep the O-H-I-O?" he teased with a flex of his muscular arms.

You rolled your eyes, playfully swatting at him with a laugh. "You're insane for wearing that in the Chase Center, Joe. The Warriors' fans are going to eat you alive."

Joe shrugged, unbothered. "I'm not worried. Besides, it's just a game, right?" He winked, the singular dimple in his cheek deepening, and you couldn't help but smile back. Your fun rivalry was all part of your dynamic, a playful tug-of-war that had begun when you first started dating and had only intensified as your respective athletic careers had taken off.

"Steph's gonna kill you, babe." You laughed as Joe spun around, striking a pose in the middle of your luxurious hotel room.

Joe chuckled, pulling you closer. "Nah, he'll love it. Besides, I'm not scared of a little trash talk. I've faced down 300-pound linebackers, I can handle some rowdy Warriors fans." He kissed your forehead lightly, and you felt a flutter in your stomach. You had been married for a year now, but with the distance and your hectic schedules, moments like these felt like a first date all over again.

You stepped out of the hotel and into the brisk San Francisco night, the air buzzing with the electricity of game day. The lights of the Oracle arena shone like a beacon, a stark contrast to the darkness beyond. Fans were already streaming in, slightly tipsy, jerseys donned, and voices raised in chants. The air was thick with the smell of popcorn and pretzels, the sweet scent of victory and hope.

Your Uber pulled up, and Joe held the door open for you, flashing a grin. "Ladies first," he said with a dramatic bow, which earned him a coy eye roll in return. You climbed in, the leather seats cool against your skin, and headed towards the stadium.

"You know, if you keep that up, people might think you have a crush on me," you quipped, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you stuffed into the backseat of the sedan.

Joe leaned in, whispering, "But what if I do?" His breath tickled your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. You giggled, swatting him away, the warmth of his touch lingering.

As you approached the arena, the crowd grew denser, a sea of blue and yellow interspersed with a few brave souls in wine and gold. Joe pointed each group of Cavs fans out to you who simply rolled your eyes in return. You made your way to your courtside seats, the anticipation of the game mingling with the excitement of your date night. Ayesha and the kids sat upstairs in their family suite, recognizing that the excitement of the floor would be too much for little Caius. The arena was a cauldron of noise, fans stomping their feet, the echoes of their chants reverberating through the rafters.

Your heart swelled with pride as you caught sight of your brother, Steph, warming up on the court. His movements were fluid, a silent symphony of skill and athleticism. You knew Joe was watching him with a mix of admiration and competitive spirit. Despite being from different sports, they shared a deep respect for one another's talent.

As you settled into your seats, the Jumbotron blazed to life, displaying a montage of the players' faces. When Joe's filled the screen, the crowd booed playfully at the sight of his Cavaliers jersey, and Joe laughed amusedly, soaking in the attention. You elbowed him gently, whispering, "You're asking for it." He just grinned wider, his amusement more pronounced than ever.

Your face was displayed after his, and the stadium erupted in cheers, a wave of love that washed over you, making you feel both awe-struck and invincible. You smiled in acknowledgment, flashing a shy grin that could only be described as uniquely 'Curry'. The contrast between Joe's jeers and your cheers made you both laugh.

The game tipped off, and the atmosphere was electric. You were in your element, both of you were used to the roar of the crowd and the thrill of competition. The Warriors played with a finesse that was a testament to their unrivaled teamwork. Meanwhile, Joe remained unfazed by the glares of the die-hard fans around you, occasionally throwing a peace sign or a thumbs up, his charm doing wonders to lighten the tension.

You watched your brother closely, your heart racing every time he had the ball. Each shot he took was a masterclass in precision, and each pass was silent communication with his teammates that seemed almost telepathic. Despite the noise of the arena, you could hear the sweet symphony of sneakers squeaking against the gleaming hardwood, the swish of the net, and the thump of bodies colliding. It brought you back to your childhood, watching your father play in arenas just like this one, and then your brothers in their AAU leagues.

Joe's hand found yours, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your palm, grounding you in the present. He leaned in to whisper in your ear, "I know you're enjoying this, but don't forget we're still on a date."

You turned to look at him, your smile brightening slightly. "You're right," you conceded, tearing your eyes away from the mesmerizing dance of athletes on the court. You shared a kiss, quick and sweet, that seemed to echo in contrast to the pulse of the game around them.

The second half began, and the Warriors picked up the pace. Each basket scored brought the stadium to its feet, and the air was charged with excitement. The tension grew as the clock ticked down, the score neck and neck. Joe, despite his jovial exterior, couldn't hide the tension in his grip on your hand.

Your eyes remained glued to the game, your heart racing with every play. You felt a strange kinship with the players on the court, a shared understanding of the blood, sweat, and tears that went into every win and loss. Your mind drifted to your own training sessions, the countless hours spent perfecting your craft, and you couldn't help but feel a swell of pride for your brother's success.

The third quarter ended with a dramatic buzzer-beater, and the stadium went wild. The energy was intoxicating, a heady mix of adrenaline and anticipation. As the players took their seats, the kiss cam made its reappearance. Though the two of you had been lucky enough to evade the cameraman the first round, this time, it found you this time around. The crowd's cheers were mixed with good-natured jeers at Joe's persistent loyalty to his Ohio roots when he appeared on the Jumbotron again.

Joe leaned over, whispering, "I dare you," his eyes alight with challenge. Without missing a beat, you turned to him, your own eyes twinkling. The cameraman hovered above you, waiting. And just as the spotlight hit your faces, you leaned in for a kiss that was more passionate than any you had shared in public before. The crowd erupted into applause, and even the die-hard Warriors fans couldn't help but cheer for the star-studded couple.

Your kiss played out on the giant screen, and even Steph couldn't resist looking over from the bench, shaking his head in feigned disapproval. The sight of your brother's amusement only made your heart swell more. You were a family of champions, bound by love, competition, and a shared love for the sports that had defined your lives.

The final quarter was a battle royale, with each team fighting tooth and nail for every point. The tension in the arena was palpable, a living, breathing entity that seemed to pulse with every heartbeat. Joe was on the edge of his seat, his eyes never leaving the court, even as he held onto your hand tightly. You, too, were absorbed in the game, your nails biting into your palm as you willed the Warriors to victory.

As the last minutes ticked away, the score remained tight. The crowd was a blur of color and noise, a symphony of hope and nerves. Then, in a moment of pure magic, Steph took the ball, dribbled around two defenders, and launched a fadeaway three-pointer that swished through the net, giving the Warriors a lead that would ultimately seal the deal. The stadium exploded in a cacophony of cheers and high-fives, and you jumped to your feet, screaming with pure elation.

Joe leaned back, a look of mock defeat on his face. "Well, I guess the Currys wins again." He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, his smile unwavering.

You couldn't help but laugh, pushing your husband's shoulder playfully. "You say that like it's a surprise," you teased, nudging him with your shoulder. "You married into a family that doesn't like losing. Get used to it."

The final buzzer rang out, echoing through the arena, and the Warriors emerged victorious. The sea of fans around you surged to their feet, a wave of euphoria crashing over them. The Jumbotron played highlights from the game, and Joe couldn't resist pointing out every time the camera caught him looking less than thrilled. "Look at this face," he said with a chuckle, "It's like I'm at a funeral."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't wipe the smug smile from your face. "You're just salty," you said, leaning into his side. "It's okay, you have to lose sometimes. It builds character."

Joe squeezed your hand, his competitive spirit not quite letting him admit defeat. "Yeah, yeah," he said, his voice thick with sarcasm. "I'll just have to beat you at something later to make up for it."

The stadium lights dimmed, and the players made their way to the locker rooms. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and victory, the cheers slowly morphing into a low murmur as fans made their way out. The arena staff began to clean up, and the reality of the night's end set in.

You and Joe waited patiently for the crowd to thin out before being escorted down the tunnel alongside a few other Warriors' family members. As you approached the waiting area, you spotted your sister-in-law Ayesha settling baby Caius in her arms. Your nieces Rylie and Ryan were engaged in a hand game with your nephew Canon, mysteriously all fully awake in anticipation of seeing their father and auntie.

"Is that the Currys?" You called out, your voice a mix of excitement and fatigue. You haven't had much time to spend with the kids since your move to London so any chance to see them was a blessing. Ayesha's face lit up as she saw the two of you approaching.

"Hey, Joe," she said with a knowing smile, eyeing his outfit. "You're a brave man."

Joe grinned back, his confidence unshaken as he leaned over to embrace her warmly. "I'm an Ohio boy, Ayesha. I wear my colors proudly."

You stepped forward, kissing Ayesha's cheek then Caius'. "How did the little ones survive the game?"

"They're all about the snacks, not the score," Ayesha said, her own eyes sparkling with mirth. She handed Caius to his aunt, and the baby's tiny hands reached for your letterman jacket. The sight of your brother's name and number on the back of his onesie made you chuckle.

"He looks just like Steph, square head and everything," you said, bouncing the baby in your arms. Caius gurgled happily, oblivious to the sports allegiances swirling around him. The three other children's laughter filled the otherwise empty tunnel, a reminder of the joy that these games brought to your lives, beyond the wins and losses.

"What's going on, champ?" Joe offered a fist bump to Canon as he knelt down to the kids' level, Rylie and Ryan flanking his sides with hugs of their own. Canon's eyes widened with excitement as he attempted to recount every thrilling play of the game in dramatic fashion, his enthusiasm bubbling over like a pot of boiling water.

You couldn't help but feel a tug at your heartstrings. Despite the chaos of your lives, these moments with your family grounded you. You looked over at your brother, who was signing autographs and taking selfies with fans. His eyes met yours, and you knew he felt the love too.

"You guys have fun?" Stephen asked, making his way over to the group of you with a bounce in his step. His oldest three children took off in his direction, their laughter bouncing off the walls of the tunnel like the echoes of the game.

"Always fun to watch you kick butt," Joe said, giving him a hug that was half squeeze, half pat on the back.

Steph grinned, his teeth gleaming against his tanned skin. "Thanks, man. Always a pleasure to send your sorry-ass fan club home where they belong." He clapped Joe on the back, the teasing glint in his eye never fading.

You hugged your brother tightly, feeling the warmth of his post-shower skin against your cheek. "Great game, Wardell," you murmured into his ear, the sound of his government name falling off your lips drawing a scowl from the basketball player.

"Don't start with that," he spoke back, his voice a mix of affection and annoyance. He took another moment to greet his wife and infant son before turning his attention back to Joe. "No seriously, how you gonna wear that in my house?" He nodded towards Joe's shirt, feigning disgust.

Joe just laughed, shaking his head. "I gotta represent, even if it's in enemy territory."

Steph rolled his eyes but couldn't hide his amusement. "As long as you keep that one in line," he nodded towards you who simply kissed your teeth, "I'll forgive you."

"I'll do my best," Joe replied, looping an arm around your waist. "She's quite the handful most days. But luckily for her, she's got good taste in quarterbacks," he added, planting a kiss on your cheek.

The adults shared a laugh, your bonds unbreakable despite your playful arguing. The night was still young, and the promise of more teasing and laughter lay ahead. The tension of the game had been a welcome distraction from your daily routines, but now, as you stepped into the cool San Francisco Bay breeze, the reality of your careers crashed back in.

You knew your time was limited; tomorrow, you'd be back in the grind, preparing for your upcoming training camp with the US Women's National Team. But for now, you cherished every second with Joe and your family, the joy of the victory still buzzing in your veins.

As you made your way out of the arena, the cool night air greeting you like a refreshing splash of water, you whispered into Joe's ear, "Thank you for flying out with me. It means a lot."

Joe looked down at you, his blue eyes warm with affection. "Anything for my favorite girl."

"You got more than one girl, Burrow?" You teased with a squint of your eyes, a smirk playing on your lips.

"Just you and the football, baby." He whispered back. You strolled down the crowded streets, the distant echo of the game still reverberating in your ears, mixing with the chatter of the fans leaving the arena.

"Unless you have something you wanna tell me?" He continued with his low whisper, his thumb brushing across your stomach as he held your waist delicately. The conspiratorial tone hinted at his most persistent wish in the last few months, one that had become a running joke between the two of you.

You playfully elbowed him. "Don't start with me, Joe. You haven't upgraded yourself to baby daddy yet." But the smile on your face gave away your secret longing. The thought of a baby had been a topic of gentle teasing and hopeful glances for a while now. It was a future you both craved, but one that had to wait until your schedules allowed.

You continued to walk in comfortable silence, the cacophony of the city blending into the background. The night was alive with the glow of streetlights reflecting off the pavement, the distant honks of cars, and the occasional cheer from a passing fan. As you approached your Uber, Joe paused, looking around at the bustling streets of San Francisco.

"You know, I could get used to this," he mused, his eyes taking in the scenery. "Maybe we should get a place out here."

You looked up at him, your smile growing. "You'd leave the Bengals for me?"

"Woah, I didn't say all that," Joe chuckled, shaking his head. "But maybe a second home wouldn't be the worst idea." His eyes searched yours, hopeful and playful all at once.

You felt the weight of his words, the hint of a future where your paths didn't have to be so separate. "We'll see," you said, your voice softer than you intended. The thought of having Joe all to yourself away from the bustle of his Cincinnati fame was tempting, but you knew your careers weren't going anywhere, not soon enough for the two of you to seriously consider a second home anyway.

You slid into the Uber, the cool leather a stark contrast to the warmth of Joe's hand in yours. You leaned your head against his shoulder, watching the city lights blur by, feeling the gentle rhythm of his breath against your hair.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

🖤 Yours Alone 🖤

🖤 Pairing: dom!boyfriend!hongjoong x sub!fem!reader

🖤 Genre: smut

🖤 Summary: Things get interesting when you visit your boyfriend while he's on a business trip in Greece.

🖤 Word Count: 1.1k-ish

🖤 Warnings: soft dom hongjoong, praise kink, masturbation (f), fingering, nicknames (daddy, baby, good girl), edging, the filthiest of language, and remind me if I missed anything

🖤 A/N: @sailork-pop I hope this insomnia fueled one shot satisfies your wishes to be a spoiled Joong babe who gets flown out to pretty places

Hongjoong spares no expense when it comes to you. Anything you’ve ever wanted, anything you might even think you want, is yours without question. Some might say he spoils you but why shouldn’t he when you’ve always been such a good girl? You’re his goddess. His muse. His addiction. If you want the moon he’ll pluck it from the night sky and every star with it. This time around you hadn’t quite asked for the moon. Actually, you hadn’t directly asked for anything.

You’d simply called to tell him how much you missed him while he was away on business in Greece, never expecting that he’d have you on a flight to the breathtaking island of Santorini mere hours later. With gorgeous homes carved into the towering cliffs of the island surrounded by a sea that reflects a vivid blue unlike any you’ve ever witnessed, it’s been the epitome of romance since you stepped off the plane. 

But none of that is why you’re here. You didn’t drop everything to come dine at expensive restaurants or brush elbows with his friends in the fashion industry. You came to be with him. To be seen by him. To be loved by him. To be draped across the bed in his luxury suite like the beautiful creature that you are, stroking your clit through the designer lingerie he had custom-made just for you.

Hongjoong stands at the end of the bed, still dressed in the suit he wore to dinner. The one that drove you mad all night, making it impossible to focus on much else but him. He looks so good that you can’t take your eyes off of him. A feeling that’s intensely mutual. Hongjoong’s eyes are glued to you, captivated by the sight of you playing with yourself precisely as he instructed.

You make the cutest pouty face, whimpering at how heavenly the expensive silk of your panties feels brushing against your stiff clit. Hongjoong takes a deep breath, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt, “Aww, my girl has the prettiest little moans. Come here and let daddy see how wet you are.” “Yes, daddy” you mewl, inching closer to the foot of the bed and spreading your legs. Using two fingers he pulls your panties to the side, grinning at how drenched they are before he even gets a look at the arousal dripping from your warmth.

“I didn’t tell you to stop, did I?” he teases, his free hand reaching up to lovingly cup your cheek. Gripping your panties, he tucks them to the side, exposing every bit of your deliciously needy pussy to him. Your fingers are back at your clit, your head falling back at the jolt of pleasure you get from finally touching your bare clit. He groans, chewing at his bottom lip, his cock growing hard enough to make him regret these fitted pants.

Fuck, he wants you on his tongue so badly but that’s not a part of the plan. At least not for this round. For now, he needs you just like this, making delicate figure eights on your clit, your pussy so wet that your fingers keep slipping through your folds whenever your clit twitches from you hitting a particularly sensitive spot. “Daddy, am I doing okay?” you whine, a wave of heat washing over you. “Oh, baby,” he coos, dipping two fingers into the juices trickling from your slit, “You’re doing so well. Look at this.”

Hongjoong raises his fingers up to show how perfectly you glisten in the light. He pops them into his mouth, those few drops of you coating his tongue enough to chase off his craving. He doesn’t even try to hide how much he loves the taste of you, humming as he takes one last lick. Just knowing how hooked on your pussy he is has you teetering on the edge of your high. Your movements begin to get sloppy as your muscles weaken, your body tingling from head to toe.

Your breath hitches as your stomach winds itself into endless knots that threaten to snap without warning. “Stop” Hongjoong demands, grabbing you by the wrists and pinning your arms to your sides. You writhe beneath the pressure, slowly losing your grasp on an orgasm so close you could almost taste it. But you don’t want it, not really, unless Hongjoong says you’re allowed. 

“Are we forgetting to ask permission? We can’t have that can we?” he scolds, leaning forward to kiss your inner thighs, his lips barely skimming your clit as he moves from one thigh to the other. “I’m sorry, daddy. Can I cum? Pretty please? Can you…can you make me cum?” Hongjoong releases you, kissing his way down your leg as he rises back to his feet. “I don’t know. You were doing such a good job on your own. I don’t think you need me.”

Crawling onto your knees, you poke your bottom lip out, “But I do need you. I always need you.” Hongjoong pets your hair, contemplating his answer for what feels like a painfully long time. Without a word, he kisses you on the forehead and makes his way to the other end of the bed. When he shifts to the middle of the bed, his back to the headboard, you don’t even question that the answer’s yes.

You position yourself between his legs, leaning back so that your head rests on his chest, the scent of his cologne filling your lungs. Hongjoong wraps his arms around your waist, his embrace safe and comforting. You spread your legs, knees pressing into his, back arching as his fingers sink into your core. “Joongie, mmph” you squeak at the feeling of his other hand laying flat on your clit, rubbing back and forth at the same rapid pace of those fingers rhythmically thrusting into your pussy.

“You hear that baby?” he whispers into your ear, “Still so wet. You must really wanna make daddy happy.” “I do. Want you to be proud of me.” Hongjoong picks up his pace, moving faster and faster the tighter your walls clench around him. “What? Look at how well you take my fingers, swallowing them so fucking deep inside you. I’m always so, so proud of you, baby.”

And just like that you’re seeing stars, trembling in his arms as you gush all over the bed, his fingers tapping at your sweet spot until you can’t take it anymore. You collapse into him, whimpering even after his fingers have eased out of you. Lifting you up a bit, he grabs the blanket tousled about beneath you, bringing it up to cover you as you cuddle up together.

“Hey,” he says softly, kissing you on the cheek. You smile up at him, your eyes bright and loving, “Yeah?” “I really missed you too.”

[gamarancianne]

Azriel x reader - In Between part III

Part I, part II

Summary: after the disastrous family dinner, you started to get yourself up again by going on dates with a guy working in your coffee shop. But what happens when, by denying your irresponsible acts, you start to hurt your friend

Warning: angst, toxic guy, denial, so much denial, kinda rude Lucien, mean and rude reader, hurt, smut if you squint, and allusion to slut, anxiety, overthinking, regret, lots of regret. Not proofread, my English.

Note: sorryyyyyy for the angst babes but I promise the next part will be *chef kiss*. Love you all ! Thanks again for the love, the support and above all the understanding of my pause 💗💗💗

Also I wanted to say that i move when you react by reblogging or commenting it makes my days !!!

The ring of the coffee shop you worked in, pulled you out of your well deserved dream. Since you started working again, you sunk again in the meanness and the rudeness of the many customers that came in and almost insulted you ordering their coffee.

What you didn't expect was that it was Feyre, your High Lady who came in. You stilled, back high in your position, your eyes wide open. Her eyes scanned the small and cozy room and brightened when they found your frozen figure. She smiled brightly at you and you felt like you were looking at the sun. She approached the counter and said:

"Hello you !

-High Lady." You bowed your head. She pouted.

"I thought I already told you not to call me that. I'm Feyre to you.

-Right, sorry Hi-Feyre.

- Don't apologize". Her smile returned to her beautiful face. Awkward you asked her:

"So what do you want on the menu.. I have a few favorites if you want advice."

You wondered why did she come in your coffee shop where as there were many that were way more luxurious.

"Oh I didn't want anything, I wanted to see you.

-Me ? But-

- Yes you, I didn't particularly wanted to talk to the wall behind you".

You chuckled at your nervousness.

"I, again, apologize for the mean and completely undeserved behaviour of my sister a few days ago".

The sun of her face was instantly replaced by dense and grey clouds as remembering this bad memory.

"Don't worry really ! It's not your fault, you should not feel guilty about something you haven't done. You haven't been anything but nice and kind to me when I arrived at your private home, kinda inviting the space and the calm of your family.

-No no no ! I feel like you help Lucien a lot, and since he got here it was difficult to talk through what happened to us but I really care about him you know, so I feel delighted to know that someone else does too. And I liked you since I saw you so I wanted to know you!

-It means a lot to me Feyre, really, I liked you too, you're an incredible woman."

She put a hand on her heart, her sea eyes full of emotions and love.

"Well maybe I'll trust you and order something. Get me your favorite!"

You smiled at her and prepared her order, she paid you way more than needed and left after waving goodbye and promising to return to see you maybe with Nyx.

Even serving mean customers, your day had been way better since Feyre came in to say hello. As you were closing the shop, Aaron, the brown haired guy who worked with you was waiting for someone outside. You started walking on the street to your appartment he came to you blushing.

"Hey yn? He asked awkwardly.

-Yes ? You turned to him questioning.

-You know, from a very long time I think you're really kind, and smart and pretty. And I wanted to ask you three weeks ago but you stopped working so it's now or never. I'd really want to go to dinner with you if you'd like.

-Oh my gods that's really kind of you ! Why not ? When do you want to go ?

-Are you free tonight I know a nice restaurant down the street ? He asked relieved from your former response.

-Yes let's go ! I didn't know it before but it seems really nice."

Your walk to the dinner was filled with laughter et joy. It's atmosphere was warm and cozy, just what you needed. You both ate in a comforting silence and he walked you back home.

"I just want to make myself clear. He said hesitantly. Tonight was a date, for me, I like you a lot so..

-Don't worry, it was one for me as well, I've really enjoyed it, it was a nice evening thank you for paying by the way.

-No problem. Then, since we both agree on that, what would you say about another one in 2 or 3 days?

-Yes I would appreciate that ! We'll organise that tomorrow though because I'm really tired now and all I want is to jump under my covers.

-Yeah of course.. yeah see ya !" He kissed you on the corner of your lips and you saw him shrink as walked the down the fairy lit street of Velaris.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The days at work were now so much more joyful and you appreciated it a lot. Your coffee guy and you had been on 4 dates lately and you had one again tonight at the same restaurant. You were disappointed in the fact that you both did exactly the same things as dates but he was nice so you brushed it off. You haven't told anything to Lucien yet, and you could bet that he had guessed because of the suspicious looks he gave you when you would go to work. The bell rang again and Feyre came in for third time in the week. She had been coming with Nyx lately, today was an exception, because he seemed to like you, even to be enamoured with you. That's what Feyre had said. You loved him too, he was so small and so cute with his cheeks burning red everytime you would come up to him and kiss him on the nose or the forehead. You brightly smiled at her but she seemed a bit off today. You frowned a little and when she arrived at the counter you took her and led her to a more private table. You could see she was thankful thanks to her beaming eyes.

"What's happening Fey?"

You had a thing with nicknames, it was your own love language. Everytime you would meet someone new, and that you liked them of course, they would end up with a nickname of yours, even your high lady.

"Well, Rhys and I are really really tired because of the parenthood and we haven't had time for ourselves, I mean our relationship lately. Plus with the tiredness, we argued this morning and said bad things that we didn't mean but nobody apologized for now. And I would've liked if Rhys and I could go to a 3 days maybe 2, vacation at the cabin to rest and enjoy eachother a little...

-Do you want me to babysit Nyx ? You cut her off and she seemed embarrassed to ask you that.

-Well, I know we've been friends just for a short period of time but Nyx only wants you to babysit him, we've tried everyone but he can't seem to stop crying or asking you if you aren't the one to keep an eye on him. I'm really sorry yn.

-Hey Fey, don't worry really. You brushed an arm on her shoulder to ease her tension. I asked because I wanted to offer my help, there's no need to be embarrassed, of course I will stay with this little demon. And you know, even if it's not since a long time, I value and cherish a lot our blooming friendship."

She hugged you tightly and you did as well.

"Also, enjoy Rhys and don't worry you can even go one week if you want. But do you mind if on the morning I come here with Nyx, unfortunately I can't stop work.

-Really ? Oh my gods you really are the bestest friend!! And yes he loves your coffee shop anyway. Are you free to start tonight ?"

You nodded and she hugged you goodbye and stormed off the shop surely to inform Rhys, a big smile on her beautiful face.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The day at the shop had been quite calm and relaxing, on the contrary of usual. You had cancelled your date and he seemed a bit mad, but you understood so you brushed it off. You were walking to the townhouse now, listening to the lovely music of the talented artists of the rainbow. As you walked through the door, Rhys came at you, eyes thankful as ever, and hugged you saying that it meant a lot to him and that you were helping him with his relationship and he was so grateful for that. You reassured him and after discussing with Fey she led you to the little Lord of the night who was playing with a giant figure that seemed way too familiar to you to be at ease, before running into your arms and screaming your name. The figure flinched and stilled before beautiful Hazel eyes sunk into yours and you lost yourself in the beauty of the male sat before you. Azriel. He was there, playing with Nyx and his toys and you were hugging back Nyx, hung on your legs. Feyre quickly hugged you goodbye and vanished away when her and Rhys windowed straight to the cabin. You couldn't move, you were frozen on your feet but Nyx pulled you sat in front of Azriel.

"Let's play with my favorite aunt and uncle !"

He was so oblivious to what was going on between you and Azriel, so innocent. It was kinda cute but you couldn't think of that I that moment.

"He wanted me to stay but not without you, I'm sorry if I make you feel awkward. Azriel explained, eyes filled with genuine apologies.

-Dont worry, he's the little king after all, he gets to decide."

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

On the contrary of what you had expected, Azriel, Nyx and you had had a very good week. Azriel and you were really organized: while you were working he would take Nyx out flying and is he had reports or little missions to do you would take the little Lord to the coffee shop and under the hard gaze of your coffee guy, Azriel would come pick you both up. The night you would both play, read and then put Nyx in bed with a kiss. After the conversation was not awkward at all, you discussed a little bit of everything in your life: Azriel had told you the story behind the siphons he had and the Carynthian trial, what a fool you were asking him the first time where you could buy them. And you told Azriel the story behind the library coffee shop you held, the fact that being a girl you weren't given the chance to read and always admired the beautiful books in a library or a bookshop, so you decided to allow people who couldn't afford books to read, especially if they loved it. You talked and talked and laughed, but never ever has the infamous subject been approached. But it was better this way, to move on and everything.

Tonight was the last night with Nyx and after a flying time, a picnic near the Sidra, and a 3 scoops ice scream on the way back home, Nyx was now in his pajamas and ready to go to sleep after a big day of activities. But he wouldn't manage sleeping if you weren't in bed with him pretending to sleep as well.

That's the reason why you found yourself tangled on the couch with Azriel, an almost sleeping Nyx on your lap while the former was reading him a story. Gods that voice of his ! It was so attractive.. how could you move on to that ?? You were almost eye fucking him at this point. But in effort to not make a fool of yourself, you closes your eyes and tried to relax a little. But what you didn't expect was to fall asleep with his voice, which he didn't expect too. He found himself with Nyx and the beautiful female he would like to call his asleep on him. Oh gods he was panicking. He didn't really realise you were asleep on him. YOU WERE SLEEPING ON HIM !!! Azriel was trying to catch his breath to no wake you up but it was difficult knowing that you laid on his chest, holding tightly his shirt, clearly a sleeping beauty. So he relaxed himself as well and fell asleep too.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You felt sunlight peak through your eyes closed but they felt too heavy to open them and wake up. Plus you were so comfortable, it was warm and there was tight arms hugging your waist and chest.

But around 5 minutes later, your mind found consciousness again when you hear little giggles coming from above you. You opened your eyes and saw two pairs of icy and violet eyes looking straight at you, glistening with joy and mischief. You wondered why until yours went wide as you realised the arms and the warm wave from the one and unique Azriel. Rhys bursted out of laughter at your panicked face and Feyre poked and scolded him for wakening Azriel. Because yes, he did. And Nyx woke up too, jumping on his parents still laughing at now two panicked faces. After thanking both of you, Feyre and Rhys seemed to be having their own secret conversation because of the way their eyes went glassy in a matter of seconds. So you jumped on the opportunity to flee, to run away from this damn situation. What have you done ?!

Arriving at your appartment the door was open so you assumed Lucien had stayed in. Coming in you were met with him yelling at you.

"Have you lost your mind ?"

You had never seen him like that and you didn't understand why.

"What ? What's going on Lu?

-Don't Lu me right now, that's not the time ! I've learnt that you were having dates with a guy for 2 weeks now? And besides the fact that you haven't told me anything, which I'm upset for, that damn guy came today. He was fuckibg banging at the door, almost crashing it ! When I opened, we both explained our situation with you, he got mad, started yelling that you were going to fucking pay for the fact that you were avoiding him and seeing another male he saw you with !

-Dont worry Lu, I don't see anyone else, I was just babysittkng Nyx with Az, that's all.

-But I don't care about that! That's not the fucking problem! The damn thing is that this guy is a walking Red flag! He screams toxic a hundred miles away ! And seeing him yelling like a godsdamned animal earlier, it wouldn't surprise me for him to be an abuser! So stop seeing him please !

-What ? No ? You're emphasising Lu, he's not like that I promise, he's kind and nice to me!

-Please yn.. I've seen him.. I dont want you to get hurt."

The whole conversation was starting to upset you. You hadn't slept a lot, had woken up awkward as hell and you hadn't even put a feet in your own appartment that your best friend started screaming at you for a guy he didn't even know.

"Okay Lucien." He stilled, you never called him that usually.

"It's not because your own relationship didn't work that you have to have a word on mine or ruin it for me to still be the pitiful single not-even-bestfriend of yours."

He opened his mouth, ready to talk back but nothing came out of it. You saw the big pained look in his eye and immediately regretted your action.

"Oh my gods Lu, I'm so sorry I didn't me-

-As you said.. don't Lu me right now." He said cold voice starting to walk to the doors.

"NO PLEASE LU!" It was your turn to scream now.

He slammed the door shut, and you cried your whole heart out: you were such an ass. No wonder why Azriel, then Elain and now Lucien had walked away from you. You hurt everything and everyone you loved. Feyre might even be pretending to be your friend. You only felt just an ounce of relief when the cool breeze of a shadow caressed your the back of your neck.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The shadow had stayed the day and helped you with everything. It was comforting really and you needed it. You blamed yourself for what happened with Lucien earlier, really you did and you only thought about that. But you still went to work and met your coffee guy who proposed a date the night for you to make it up for the lost time. That's what he had said with a wink. You had nodded but hadn't said anything, a little hurt by what he said. Maybe Lucien was right after all ? No that couldn't be possible. You couldn't possibly be terrible in every relationship choices you made ? So you agreed and back home before the date, you decided that you would indeed make up for the lost time. You dressed yourself in a long blue dress with your back naked, attached your hair in a stylised bun and put on mascara and red lips. You were really sexy and beautiful. For once you could admit it and call you that.

The dinner went well and on the door, he kissed fervently. At first you were shocked but still answered to the sloppy kiss. He pinned you on your door and after a pressing unlock, he slammed it and carried you to your bed for what you thought to be a sleepless night.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was a sleepless night indeed, but not like you thought it would be. He wasn't even food in bed and you had spent the entire night regretting it but fearing of just moving an inch. You had just been staring at the ceiling wondering what had you done again and thinking about the fact that you should have listened to Lucien. Panicking again, in a too short period of time, you sensed again the shadow curling against your neck, as if it was comforting you.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Taglist:

@mirandasidefics @63angel @leeknows-wife @thehighlordishere @annaaaaa88 @starsinyourseyes @oucereeng @wallacewillow0773638 @kalulakunundrum

Sorry for the tags that didn't work I couldn't find your accounts :/

[whorecrux-of-slytherin]

Slytherin Boys try to impress you with their idea of an ideal date.

(part.1) : Draco | Blaise | Theodore

Warning - mentions of kissing, slight toxic behaviour if you squint. This is not proof read, so kindly ignore any grammatical errors or typos

a/n . I have only included Draco, Blaise and Theo in this because if I add the rest of them ( Enzo, Matheo and Tom ) it'll be far too long. But for the most part I'm too lazy to write for everyone in one go. I don't mind writing a part 2 if someone requests. Also yes I made the mini mood boards 😌

Kindly do not copy my work.

DRACO MALFOY:

Draco Malfoy is the definition of generational wealth, so there's no doubt that he'd plan something romantic and lavish to spoil his partner.

He's not the best at expressing his feelings through words, so he loves making grand gestures in spoiling you. This is his way to show his upbringing and heritage; that he is worthy of your time and can treat you right.

Firstly he would pick you up personally then gift you a bouquet of your favourite flowers & something exquisite, like some custom made jewelry -an elegant bracelet maybe.

He'd go all out and book a private roof- top classic candle light dinner at the most famous and exclusive wizarding restaurants with the perfect view of the Eiffel tower in Paris. He'll hold your hand across the table, gently rub circles and occasionally give it a kiss. He also arranges for a pianist to play your favourite pieces.

After dinner, he would surprise you with a suite at a luxurious hotel to spend the night together. He'd run you both a bath and wash your hair for you while you enjoy some champagne and the most delicious macaroons you've ever had.

BLAISE ZABINI :

Blaise may come off as the most unbothered slytherin boy and honestly speaking, he is. But not when it comes to you.

You are special to him and he'd make it a point that you know. To prove this he would opt for an unconventional but romantic date night idea.

I just feel that he'd know how to drive a charmed car and owns a wide collection of vintage cars ( few from his ex step -fathers' as well). So he would take you on a romantic drive in the evening on his favourite classic vintage Porsche.

Both of you spend the night driving through the night sky watching the city lights of London; making conversations about what you like the most about each other.

Then he'd make a stop at one of his favourite spots secluded from the city to spend time watching you gaze at the stars and cuddling to get warmth from each other's bodies while he hums a soft tune.

He'd then drop you home safely but not before he kisses you passionately and say those three special words for the very first time.

THEODORE NOTT:

Theo is the pretty boy of the group. He is no doubt loaded with money- their family basically mints money for Gringotts from generations (so duh-) but he doesn't like to flash it the way Draco does.

He uses the 'dead mother' card to pull girls but in reality, he is quite the player. Deep down he at times, craves for female validation or attention. So he surrounds himself with different girls every few weeks so that he wouldn't get too attached to them.

But then he meets you and he just knows that you're the one for him. So he chases you down until you fall for him and now he wants to surprise you with the perfect date idea.

He invites you to his holiday home in Italy for the first time. The place where he grew up until his mother's death when he was 7 years old. He shows you around the huge property facing the sea and telling you about his childhood adventure there and secretly hopes that he would one day get to spend his life there with you.

He would then cook you dinner himself. Spaghetti- in the traditional Italian way with some vintage wine from his family's vineyard in the countryside.

..........................................................................................

Thanks for reading! 🤍

Do like, share and comment down about your thoughts 🤔💭

Who would you go on a date with and why?? 🐍

[yujo-nishimura]

Whispers of the Desert Kingdom - Part 2

Warning: Sir Crocodile x fem reader, mention of masturbation, English is not my native language, not proof-read, age gap

words: 766

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9

You were always obedient to your father's requests, which is why Vivi had joined the pirates while you stayed in the country. However, you couldn't shake off the feeling of suspicion regarding this sudden order. 

"Has the king given any specific reason for me not to meet the visitor?" you inquire, sensing Pell's avoidance of eye contact and his hesitation, indicating that he was lying. 

"Well, for now, there hasn't been any reason given," Pell responds, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. 

"Very well, then. Please bring me some breakfast, and I will commence my studies," you say, releasing Pell from his uncomfortable position near the door, understanding the guilt he must feel for having to lie to you. 

He swiftly leaves your room, and you can hear the door being locked from the outside. It seemed like an unreasonable measure in your eyes, but you sigh and slump your shoulders. All this commotion and excitement surrounding a visitor you're not supposed to meet? What could this possibly be about?

As you walk towards your desk, your eyes catch sight of the books for today's study. Opening the drawer, you retrieve your feather, ink, and pen. However, out of the corner of your eye, you notice a sudden commotion outside. Curiosity piqued, you swiftly step towards the window, gently lifting the curtain to get a better look.

Before you, a group of finely dressed individuals arrive, and amidst them stands Chaka, the dark-haired second warrior of the palace, who has always been a true friend to you, much like Pell. He bows respectfully, and as your gaze scans the gathering, you spot a tall figure approaching. Your heart skips a beat as you recognize him. Towering in stature, with a muscular build, slicked-back purple hair, and a cigar clenched between his teeth, he exudes an aura of power. His extravagant attire fits his status - it is Sir Crocodile, the second richest man in the kingdom and one of the most influential figures in the town of Alubarna. You not only know him by his formidable reputation as a warlord of the sea, protected by the government, but also by personal acquaintance. Five years ago, when you were still young, you had the opportunity to meet him at a banquet attended by the kingdom's esteemed personalities and mayors, accompanying your father.

At the age of 17, your father introduced you to Sir Crocodile. He was much older than you and his imposing presence, coupled with his cold eyes, intimidated you. Throughout the banquet, you barely interacted with anyone else, instead focusing on discreetly observing Crocodile, captivated by his appearance.

This initial encounter sparked a mild obsession within you. After returning home, you found yourself frequently thinking about him. Over the following months and years, you would spend your weekend evenings sneaking into the local casino that he owned, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. However, encountering him there was a rare occurrence. He seldom mingled with his customers or the commoners, and most of the time, you left disappointed, unable to even lay eyes on him.

In the span of those five years, you were fortunate enough to see him on only three occasions. However, you lacked the courage to approach him, and Crocodile himself never recognized you or made any effort to engage with you. Your infatuation gradually transformed into a deep longing, causing many sleepless nights as you lay awake in bed, imagining his beautiful muscular chest beneath his luxurious attire. You fantasized about his golden hook gently caressing your skin, and the mere thought sent shivers down your spine, often leading you to touch yourself in desire and solitude.

As the princess of the kingdom, you were acutely aware of the need to maintain proper decency, and your infatuation with this man conflicted with those expectations.

Observing him as he made his way towards the palace, Chaka warmly welcoming him, it suddenly dawned on you that he was the highly anticipated and esteemed visitor everyone had been eagerly awaiting. Your heart raced, and a flush of excitement spread across your skin. Why had your father extended an invitation to the only man who held such immense significance in your world?

As you reluctantly tore your gaze away from the window, a sense of dizziness overwhelmed you. Just as you were about to step back, you gasped in sheer awe. Crocodile had lifted his eyes, meeting your gaze through the glass. Your lips parted gently, and disbelief washed over you. He smiled—an enchanting sight—his dark eyes gleaming through the wisps of smoke from his cigars.

[octuscle]

Hi I was wondering if you could help. Im doing my final year dis at uni on online sex work and the onlyfans/Twitter porn industry. My only issue is I’m not too sure how they work and the content creators I message to interview keep declining me. Im just an average looking student, any way you could help me get a better understanding for my dissertation?

You wake up in the morning. Fuck, your morning boner is the hardest you've ever had. But it collapses in a split second. This is no longer your apartment in your student hall of residence. This is a spacious, almost luxurious apartment in a skyscraper. No curtains. Just unobstructed views of the sea of houses. And something is strange. Cameras. There are cameras everywhere. You reach for your cell phone on the bedside table. It's not your cell phone. This one is brand new and looks damn expensive. The lock screen shows a premium six-pack. And with one glance at the display, the phone is unlocked. First up is an app called "Cameras". How appropriate. You open it. And you find a list of different rooms. And a list of cameras for each room. And you can set "active" or "inactive" for each camera. Curiously, you select "Bedroom" and "Bed". Strange… Nothing happens. Until the first messages come in via OnlyFans.

"Look who's awake!" "Handsome, what happened to your cock? Is it also available in flaccid?" "Dude, I've never seen you unshaven before!" "If you piss on me, what do I have to pay for it?"

Shit, what's happened here? You immediately deactivate the camera again.

"That's it already?" "When does the show go on?" "Dude, I was just hard!"

Okay, you're not hard anymore. But you're pouring out plenty of adrenaline. What's going on here? You take a closer look at the camera app. And OnlyFans. If you understand it correctly, you can cover every area of your home with cameras. And the image from the camera where you can be seen, or at least where you were last seen, is automatically transmitted.

You go into the bathroom and switch on all the cameras except the ones in the bathroom. As you would expect, the live video from OnlyFans now shows your unmade, empty bed. But that's pretty uninteresting. Your reflection is more interesting. Yes, that's still you. You, if you spent two hours a day in the swimming pool and on the cross trainer. You, if you were a regular customer at the hairdresser and beauty salon. You, if you had a flaccid 9-inch cock!

"Where are you?" "Is your cock as hard as mine?" "We want to watch you wank your morning wood!"

You shave quickly and brush your teeth. These are the activities that aren't so sexy. And then you turn on the camera, remove the towel from your narrow hips, step into the shower and let the warm water run down your Adonis body. The camera is set so that NOTHING can be seen of your cock. Even your hand, which is making rhythmic movements with your cock, can't be seen. But you can hear from the acoustic notifications of your incoming messages that your fans are obviously having fun.

When you sit down to write your dissertation later, remember to leave your upper body exposed. And at least pretend that your work makes you horny.

Screenshot from OnlyFans found @bmdit-trophy-boys-again

[tendaysofrain]

“Three Poems for the End of the Year” (歲晚三首) Translation

(Happy Spring Festival/Lunar New Year/Chinese New Year to all!  I thought this series of poems was a good introduction for certain traditions and customs surrounding the festival, so here they are, please enjoy!)

Three Poems for the End of the Year

By Su Shi (Song dynasty, 1062 AD, 11th century)

Exchanging gifts at the end of the year is called “gifting the year” (1); inviting others to feast together is called “sending off the year” (2); keeping vigil through the night of the eve is called “watching over the year” (3).  Such are the customs in Shu (4) (5).  Since I am now a government official in Qixia (6) and cannot return home at the end of the year, I am writing these three poems here for Ziyou (7).

Gifting the Year (1)

Each household’s harvest is now done, which will aid in the yearly event (8).

Worried about missing out on the festivities, people exchange presents freely.

The contents vary according to their place of origin, the poor gives little while the rich gives plenty.

An enormous carp lays across the plate, within the cage rests a pair of rabbits.

The wealthy displays extravagance, their embroidered silks glowing in lustrous hues.

The poor cannot afford the luxury, and opted for small gifts of pastries.

The official residence doesn’t have familiar faces, while the celebrations continued in the alleys.

I wish to celebrate with the customs of my hometown, yet there's nobody who will join me.

Sending Off the Year (2)

Faraway lives my old friend, reluctantly do we part.

Though people can return to visit, the years never will.

Where have the years gone?  To the ends of the earth.

Off chasing the east-flowing waters (9), and into the timeless seas.

The neighbor to the east has the well-aged wine, and the neighbor to the west owns the fattened pig.

All for a day’s festivity, to compensate for the melancholy of the ending old year.

But never be consumed while mourning this loss, lest you forgo the fresh new year.

If one looks back while moving forward, old age and infirmity shall catch up.

Watching Over the Year (3)

The year shall soon end, a long snake swimming towards the gloomy depths.

Its slender scales already half out of view, who can hide its intention to leave?

And if one wishes to tie up its tail, though diligent this is still in vain.

Trying their best to fight off sleep, children play merrily into the night.

Wishing the morning rooster won’t crow, my anxiety grows amid the urging of the geng drums (10) (11).

Sitting through the night whilst petals of ash drifts from the lamp (12), the Big Dipper already askew when I stand up.

Will the New Year be absent next year?  I fear what’s on my mind will be delayed again.

The youth who can cherish this singular night, their will and spirit are praiseworthy indeed.

—————————-

Notes:

“Gifting the Year”/饋歲/馈岁:  refers to the custom of exchanging gifts at the end of the year.

“Sending Off the Year”/別歲/别岁:  refers to the custom of feasting on the 29th day of the Twelfth month in order to “bid farewell to the old year”.

“Watching Over the Year”/守歲/守岁:  refers to the custom of staying up through the entire night of the eve and the early hours of the first day of the new year; lamps and candles are also kept on or lit through the night so the light can rid the residence of all evil, pestilence, and illness in preparation for the new year.

Shu/蜀:  name of a region; the archaic name of the region known today as Sichuan/四川.

The first two sentences in Su Shi’s introduction here are a direct reference to the records of New Year’s customs from the Jin dynasty (266 - 420 AD) book 《風土記》 by Zhou Chu/周處/周处.  In fact, Su Shi’s description here is a paraphrase of the same information in 《風土記》:  ”蜀之風俗，晚歲相與餽問，謂之餽歲。酒食相邀為別歲。至除夕，達旦不眠，謂之守歲”.

Qixia/岐下:  refers to the foot of the Qishan/岐山 mountain in Shaanxi province/陕西省 today.

Ziyou/子由:  courtesy name of Su Shi’s younger brother Su Zhe/蘇轍, the recipient of this letter.

Yearly event/歲事:  implies the New Year’s festival, colloquially called “passing the year” (Guonian/過年/过年 or Dusui/度歲/度岁) or “yearly festival” (Nianjie/年節/年节), now known more widely as “Spring Festival”/春节 (this name came about in 1914 from an official document), “Lunar New Year”/农历新年, or “Chinese New Year”.

East-flowing waters:  a common Chinese literary motif that refers to the passage of time; this is because both Yangzi River and Yellow River flow eastwards.

Geng drum:  a drum carried by night watchers, called Gengfu/更夫; gengfu will sound the drum every Shichen/時辰/时辰 (1 shichen = 2 hours) during the night while he is patrolling the streets and on the look out for potential dangers like fires or robbers.

It should be noted that in the old times, age is calculated as “1 year old” at birth, and increases by 1 every New Year’s festival (the resulting age number from this traditional age calculation method is now called Xusui/虛歲/虚岁).  This is reflected in the character sui/歲/岁, which means both “age” and “year”.  This also means that in the old times, everyone has a birthdate, but there are no annual “birthdays”.  Now we can understand Su Shi’s anxiety while waiting for the old year to end:  he will be considered “1 year older” after the eve ends, which reminds him that he’s aging.

Petals of ash:  refers to the ash left by the burning candle wick.

—————————-

Original Text (Traditional Chinese):

《 歲晚三首 》

[宋]  蘇軾

歲晚相與餽問為“餽歲”；酒食相邀呼為“別歲”；至除夜達旦不眠為“守歲”。蜀之風俗如是。餘官於岐下，歲暮思歸而不可得，故為此三詩以寄子由。

《 饋歲 》

農功各已收，歲事得相佐。

為歡恐無及，假物不論貨。

山川隨出產，貧富稱小大。

置盤巨鯉橫，發籠雙兔卧。

富人事華靡，彩繡光翻座。

貧者愧不能，微摯出舂磨。

官居故人少，里巷佳節過。

亦欲舉鄉風，獨唱無人和。

《 別歲 》

故人適千里，臨別���遲遲。

人行猶可復，歲行那可追。

問歲安所之？遠在天一涯。

已逐東流水，赴海歸無時。

東鄰酒初熟，西舍彘亦肥。

且為一日歡，慰此窮年悲。

勿嗟舊歲別，行與新歲辭。

去去勿回顧，還君老與衰。

《 守歲 》

欲知垂盡歲，有似赴壑蛇。

修鱗半已沒，去意誰能遮。

況欲系其尾，雖勤知奈何。

兒童強不睡，相守夜歡譁。

晨雞且勿鳴，更鼓畏添撾。

坐久燈燼落，起看北斗斜。

明年豈無年，心事恐蹉跎。

努力盡今夕，少年猶可誇。

[mostlysignssomeportents]

EU to Facebook: 'Drop Dead'

A leak from the European Data Protection Board reveals that the EU’s top privacy regulator is about to overrule the Irish Data Protection Commission and declare Facebook’s business model illegal, banning surveillance-based ads without explicit consent:

https://noyb.eu/en/noyb-win-personalized-ads-facebook-instagram-and-whatsapp-declared-illegal

In some ways, this is unsurprising. Since the GDPR’s beginning, it’s been crystal clear that the intention of the landmark privacy regulation was to extinguish commercial surveillance and ring down the curtain on “consent theater” — the fiction that you “agree” to be spied on by clicking “I agree” or just by landing on a web-page that has a link to some fine-print.

Under the GDPR, the default for data-collection is meaningful consent, meaning that a company that wants to spy on you and then sell or use the data it gathers has to ask you about each piece of data they plan to capture and each use they plan to make of it.

These uses have to be individually enumerated, and the user has to actively opt into giving up each piece of data and into each use of that data. That means that if you’re planning to steal 700 pieces of information from me and then use it in 700 ways, you need to ask me 1,400 questions and get a “Yes” to each of them.

What’s more, I have to be given a single tickbox at the start of this process that says, “No to all,” and then I have to be given access to all the features of the site or service.

The point of this exercise is to reveal consent theater for the sham it is. For all that apologists for commercial surveillance insist that “people like ads, so long as they’re well-targeted” and “the fact that people use high-surveillance services like Facebook shows a ‘revealed preference’ for being spied on,” we all know that no one likes surveillance.

There’s empirical proof of this! When Apple added one-click tracker opt-out on its Ios platform, 96% of users opted out, costing Facebook more than $10b in the first year (talk about a ‘revealed preference!’) (of course, Apple only opted those users out of tracking by its rivals, and secretly continued highly invasive, nonconsenual tracking of its customers):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

Properly enforced, the GDPR would have upended the order of the digital world: any argument about surveillance between product managers at a digital firm would have been settled in favor of privacy, because the pro-privacy side could argue that no one would give consent, and the very act of asking would scare off lots of users.

But the GDPR wasn’t properly enforced, thanks to structural problems with European federalism itself. The first line of GDPR enforcement came from privacy regulators in whatever country a privacy-violator called home. That meant that when Big Tech companies violated the GDPR, they’d have to account for themselves to the privacy regulator in Ireland.

For multinational corporations, Ireland is what old-time con-artists used to call a “made town,” where the cop on the beat is in on the side of the criminals. Ireland’s decision to transform itself into a tax haven means that it can’t afford to upset the corporations that fly Irish flags of convenience and maintain the pretense that all their profits are floating in a state of untaxable grace in the Irish Sea.

That’s because there are plenty of other EU countries that compete with Ireland in the international race to the bottom on corporate governance: Malta, Luxembourg, the Netherlands, Cyprus, etc (and of course, there’s post-Brexit UK, where the plan is to create an unregulated haven for the worst, wealthiest companies in the world).

All this means that seeking Irish justice from a corporation that wronged you is like asking a court in Moscow to punish an oligarch’s commercial empire on your behalf. Irish regulators are either “dingo babysitters” (guards in league with the guarded) or resource-starved into ineffectual torpor.

That’s how Facebook got away with violating the GDPR for so many years. The company hid behind the laughable fairy-tale that it didn’t need our consent to spy on us because it had a “legitimate purpose” for its surveillance, namely, that it was contractually obliged to spy on us thanks to the “agreement” we clicked on when we signed up for the service.

That is, you and Facebook had entered into a contract whereby Facebook promised you that it would spy on you, and if it didn’t spy on you, it would be violating that promise.

Har.

Har.

Har.

But while the GDPR has a structural weakness — allowing corporations to choose to be regulated in countries that can’t afford to piss them off — it also has a key strength: the private right of action, that is, the right of individuals to sue companies that violate the law, rather than having to convince a public prosecutor to take up their case.

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/01/you-should-have-right-sue-companies-violate-your-privacy

The private right of action is vital to any privacy regulation, which is why companies fight it so hard. Whenever a privacy bill with a private right of action comes up, they tell scare-stories about “ambulance chasers” who’ll “clog up the system,” trotting out urban legends like the McDonald’s Hot Coffee story:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/12/hot-coffee/#mcgeico

But here we are, in the last days of 2022, and the private right of action is about to do what the Irish regulators wouldn’t do: force Facebook to obey the law. For that, we can thank Max Schrems and the nonprofit he founded, noyb.

Schrems, you may recall, is the Austrian activist, who, as a Stanford law student, realized that EU law barred American tech companies from sending their surveillance data on Europeans to US data-centers, which the NSA and other spy agencies treated as an arm of their own surveillance projects:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/16/text-adventures-resurgent/#nein

Schrems brought a case against the Irish regulator to the EU’s top privacy authority, arguing that it had failed its duty by ruling that Facebook’s “contractual obligation” excuse held water. According to the leaked report, Schrems has succeeded, which means, once again, Facebook’s business model is illegal.

Facebook will doubtless appeal, but the writing is on the wall here: it’s the end of the line for surveillance advertising in Europe, an affluent territory with 500m+ residents. This decision will doubtless give a tailwind to other important privacy cases in the EU, like Johnny Ryan’s case against the ad-tech consortium IAB over its “audience taxonomy” codes:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/16/inside-the-clock-tower/#inference

It’s also likely good news for Schrems’ other ongoing cases, like the one he’s brought against Google:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/15/out-here-everything-hurts/#noyb

Facebook has repeatedly threatened to leave the EU if it is required to stop breaking the law:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/22/uncivvl/#fb-v-eu

This is a pretty implausible threat, growing less plausible by the day. The company keeps delivering bad news to investors, who are not mollified by Mark Zuckerberg’s promise to rescue the company by convincing all of humanity to spend the rest of their lives as highly surveilled, legless, sexless, low-polygon cartoon characters:

https://www.fool.com/investing/2022/12/06/why-meta-platforms-stock-dove-today/

Zuckerberg and his entire senior team have seen their net worth plummet with Meta’s share price, and that means the company needs to pay engineers with actual dollars, rather than promises of shares, which kills the massive wage-bill discount the company has enjoyed. This is not a company that can afford to walk away from Europe!

Between Apple’s mobile (third-party) tracker-blocking and the EU calling time on surveillance ads, things are looking grim for Facebook. You love to see it! But things could get even worse, and soon, thanks to the double-edged sword of “network effects.”

Facebook is a network effects business: people join the service to socialize with the people who are already there — then more people join to socialize with them. But what network effects give, they can also take away: a service that gets more valuable when a new user signs up loses value when that user leaves.

This is beautifully explained in danah boyd’s “What if failure is the plan?” which recounts boyd’s experiences watching MySpace unravel as key nodes in its social graph disappeared when users quit: “Failure of social media sites tends to be slow then fast”:

http://www.zephoria.org/thoughts/archives/2022/12/05/what-if-failure-is-the-plan.html

Facebook long understood this, which is why it spent years creating artificial “switching costs” — penalties it could impose on users who quit, such as the loss of their family photos:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/facebooks-secret-war-switching-costs

This is why Facebook and other tech giants are so scared of interoperability, and why they are so furious about the new EU Digital Markets Act (DMA), which will force them to allow new services to connect to their platforms, so that users who quit Big Tech won’t have to lose their friends or data:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2022/04/eu-digital-markets-acts-interoperability-rule-addresses-important-need-raises

An interoperable Facebook would make it easy to leave social media by removing the penalties Facebook imposes on its disloyal users, and the EU’s privacy framework means that when they flee to a smaller safe haven, they won’t have to worry about commercial surveillance:

https://www.eff.org/interoperablefacebook

But what about advertising-supported media? Sure, being spied on sucks, but a subscription-first media landscape is a world where “the truth is paywalled, but the lies are free”:

https://www.currentaffairs.org/2020/08/the-truth-is-paywalled-but-the-lies-are-free/

Ironically, killing surveillance ads is good news for ad-driven media. Surveillance-based ad-targeting is nowhere near as effective as Google, Facebook and the other ad-tech companies claim (these companies are compulsive liars, it would be amazing if the only time they told the truth is when they were boasting about their products!):

https://onezero.medium.com/how-to-destroy-surveillance-capitalism-8135e6744d59

And consent-theater or no, targeted ads reach fewer users every day, thanks to ad- blockers, AKA, “the biggest boycott in world history”:

https://blogs.harvard.edu/doc/2015/09/28/beyond-ad-blocking-the-biggest-boycott-in-human-history/

And when a publisher does manage to display a targeted ad, they get screwed. The Googbook dupololy is a crooked affair, with the two tech companies illegally colluding (via the Jedi Blue conspiracy) to divert money from publishers to their own pockets:

https://techcrunch.com/2022/03/11/google-meta-jedi-blue-eu-uk-antitrust-probes/

Targeted ads are a cesspit of ad-fraud. 15% of all ad revenues are just unaccounted for:

https://twitter.com/swodinsky/status/1511172472762163202

The remaining funds aren’t any more trustworthy. Ad-tech is a bezzle (“the magic interval when a confidence trickster knows he has the money he has appropriated but the victim does not yet understand that he has lost it”):

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/04/how-to-truth/

As Tim Hwang foretold in his essential Subprime Attention Crisis, the pretense that targeted ads are wildly effective has been slowly but surely losing ground to the wider awareness of the fraud behind the system, and a reckoning is at hand:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/10/05/florida-man/#wannamakers-ghost

Experiments with contextual ads (ads based on the content of the page you’re looking at, not on your behavior and demographics) have found them to about as effective in generated clicks and sales as surveillance ads.

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/29/taken-in-context/#creep-me-not

But this is misleading. Contextual ads don’t require consent opt-in (because they’re not based on your data) and they don’t drive users to install blockers the way creepy surveillance ads do, so lots more people will see a contextual ad than a surveillance one. Thus, even if contextual ads generate slightly less money per reader or viewer, they generate far more money overall, because they are aren’t blocked.

Even better for publishers: contextual ads don’t erode their own rate cards. Today, when you visit a high-quality publisher like the Washington Post, many ad brokers bid to show you an ad, but only one wins the auction. However, all the others have tagged you as a “Washington Post reader,” and they can sell that to bottom-feeder junk sites. That is, they can collude with Tabooleh or its rivals to offer advertisers a chance to advertise to Post readers at a fraction of what the Post charges. Lather, rinse, repeat, and the Post’s own ad revenues are drained.

This doesn’t apply with contextual ads. Indeed, none of the tech giants’ much-vaunted “data advantage” — the largely overstated value of knowing what you did online 10 or 20 years ago, the belief in which keeps new companies out of the market — applies to context ads:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/11/halflife/#minatory-legend

The transformative power of banning surveillance advertising goes beyond merely protecting our privacy. It also largely answers the case for “link taxes” (pseudo-copyright systems that let giant media companies decide who can link to them and charge for the privilege).

The underlying case for link taxes, snippet taxes, etc, is that Big Tech is stealing the news media’s content (by letting their users talk about and quote the news), when the reality is that Big Tech is stealing their money (through ad-fraud):

https://doctorow.medium.com/big-tech-isnt-stealing-news-publishers-content-a97306884a6b

Unrigging the ad-tech market is a much better policy than establishing a link-tax, like the Democrats are poised to do with their Journalism Competition and Preservation Act (JCPA):

https://www.politico.com/newsletters/politico-influence/2022/12/06/jcpa-opponents-spring-into-action-to-block-ndaa-inclusion-00072602

It’s easy to understand why the monopoly/private-equity-dominated news industry wants JCPA, rather than a clean ad market. The JCPA just imposes a tax on the crooked ad-tech giants that is paid to the largest media companies, while a fair ad market would reward the media outlets that invested most in news (and thus in expensive, unionized news-gathering reporters).

Indeed, the JCPA only works if the ad-tech market remains corrupt: the excess Big Tech rents that Big News wants to claim here are the product of a rigged system. Unrig the system and there won’t be any money to pay the link tax with.

Image: Anthony Quintano (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mark_Zuckerberg_F8_2018_Keynote_%2841118883004%29.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

[Image ID: A theater proscenium. Over the proscenium, in script, are the words 'Consent Theatre.' On the screen is an image of Mark Zuckerberg standing in front of the words 'Data Privacy.' He is gesturing expansively. A targeting reticle is centered on his face. The reticle is made of the stars from the EU flag.]

[shiorihyugawrites]

Diamond Of The First Water

In the aftermath of war, Paradis finds itself in need of powerful alliances. When Emperor Armand of Valoria offers his military aid in exchange for the hand of his daughter, Princess Solina, in marriage, Captain Levi Ackerman is thrust into an engagement that begins as a political strategy but soon becomes something much deeper.

Princess Solina, sheltered from the world and unaware of the realities of love and war, finds herself drawn to Levi—the man known as Humanity’s Strongest Soldier. As they navigate royal customs, public expectations, and the growing threat of Marley, the bond between them deepens into a genuine connection.

But neither Solina nor Levi are prepared for the challenges of a political marriage, the weight of intimacy, and the secrets that lie beneath the surface. As Solina enters a new life with Levi, her naivety is tested, and Levi faces a battle unlike any he’s fought before—the fight to protect his heart.

Can their love flourish in the midst of war, duty, and danger? Or will the forces conspiring against them tear them apart before they can find peace? (Levi x OC)

Chapter Two

Far across the sea, in the heart of Valoria, the Rose House stood resplendent amid the vast royal garden. The sun bathed the palace grounds in golden light, filtering through the leaves of towering trees and illuminating the delicate flowers that surrounded the estate. The scent of roses filled the air, mingling with the faint melody of a harp that drifted from the open gazebo at the edge of the estate.

Princess Solina sat within the gazebo, her frame poised gracefully over her harp. Her fiery red hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching the sunlight like flames. Her fingers danced over the strings, producing a soft, melancholic tune that resonated through the quiet garden. Her emerald-green eyes were focused, lost in the music as her thoughts drifted.

The Rose House, her home and sanctuary, had always been a place of peace and beauty. It was here, among the roses, that she and her siblings had grown up, sheltered from the outside world and the weight of their royal duties. Here, in this garden, she was not the "Diamond of the First Water" or a coveted royal prize; she was simply Solina, the daughter of Rose Consort Solana.

As her song reached its soft crescendo, the gentle rustling of footsteps approached. An attendant from the Rose House, dressed in the traditional red and gold garb of her house, stepped into the gazebo, bowing respectfully before speaking.

“Your Highness,” the attendant said softly, her voice tinged with urgency, “the emperor has summoned you to the main palace at once.”

Solina’s fingers stilled on the harp, her heart skipping a beat. It was rare for her father, Emperor Armand, to summon her like this. He typically visited the Rose House in the evenings, sharing dinner with her, her siblings, and her mother, Lady Solana. These were the quiet, cherished moments of her life, when her father’s powerful presence softened, and he became simply ‘father’ to her.

For him to summon her now, in the middle of the day, was unusual. It meant something important had happened.

Solina carefully placed her harp aside, smoothing down the fabric of her flowing gown as she rose from her seat. The tension in her chest was impossible to ignore, her mind already racing with possibilities. What could be so urgent?

“Thank you,” she said to the attendant, her voice calm despite the unease building within her. “I’ll go to him right away.”

The walk from the Rose House to the main palace felt longer than usual. The path wound through the immaculate gardens, a place of beauty and luxury where only the emperor and his immediate family could enter. No one else was allowed beyond the towering gates that separated the royal garden from the rest of Valoria, besides the staff of the respective houses. Here, amidst the flowers and statues, the emperor’s children and consorts lived in seclusion, their lives defined by privilege and duty.

As Solina neared the grand palace, the weight of her summons pressed down on her. She had always known that one day her father would arrange a marriage for her, as he had done with her elder brothers and sisters. It was inevitable. In Valoria, marriage was the most powerful tool in the emperor’s arsenal, a means of securing alliances and strengthening the empire’s influence across the world. She had been raised to understand this, to accept it without question.

Yet, despite knowing it was her fate, the idea of marriage had always felt distant, something that existed in the future—until now.

The guards at the palace entrance bowed as she passed, their armor gleaming in the sunlight. Solina ascended the grand staircase, her pulse quickening with every step. The closer she got to the throne room, the more her nervousness grew.

When she finally reached the doors, two attendants pushed them open with a smooth motion, revealing the vast throne room beyond. It was a place of opulence, with towering columns, marble floors, and intricate tapestries depicting the history of Valoria. At the far end of the room, seated on an ornate throne, was Emperor Armand Hein.

He was an imposing figure, even from a distance. His regal bearing, sharp eyes, and silvered hair gave him an air of wisdom and power that commanded respect. He wore the ceremonial robes of his station, their deep blue and gold fabric shimmering in the light.

“Father,” Solina said softly as she approached, bowing deeply before the emperor.

Emperor Armand regarded her with a calm, calculating gaze, his expression unreadable. He gestured for her to rise, his voice deep and steady as he spoke.

“Solina,” he began, his tone formal, “I have summoned you because a matter of great importance has arisen. One that concerns both Valoria and your future.”

Her heart raced, though she kept her composure. “What is it, Father?”

The emperor’s gaze sharpened slightly. “I have offered your hand in marriage to secure an alliance with the nation of Paradis.”

The words hit her like a physical blow. Solina’s eyes widened slightly, her mind struggling to catch up with what she had just heard. Paradis? The mysterious island nation that had been isolated from the rest of the world for so long? The place once ravaged by Titans?

She had heard the stories—how the people of Paradis had been trapped behind walls for generations, fighting for survival against the Titans that roamed their land. She had heard of their recent attack on Marley, the chaos that had followed, and the power of the Jaegerists, who now controlled the island.

And then there was Captain Levi Ackerman—Humanity’s Strongest Soldier. His name was whispered with awe and fear across the world. He was a legend, a warrior whose prowess on the battlefield was unmatched. But he was also a man of violence, hardened by war.

Her thoughts swirled in confusion. “Captain Levi… of Paradis?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “You want me to marry him?”

The emperor’s expression remained unmoved. “Yes. Captain Levi Ackerman is a key figure in Paradis. By offering your hand in marriage, we can secure an alliance that will benefit both our empire and Paradis. This marriage will ensure that Valoria has access to the ice burst stone, a resource that is essential to our future prosperity.”

Solina felt the weight of the words settle over her. She had known this day would come, but to be offered to someone like Captain Levi… It was almost too much to comprehend. She had imagined her future marriage to be a quiet affair, perhaps to a noble from another kingdom. But this? This was a union with a man whose life had been consumed by war, with a nation that had only recently emerged from the shadows of isolation.

Her father’s gaze softened, though his tone remained firm. “I know this is sudden, Solina, but you have always understood your duty. This marriage will bring great stability to both Valoria and Paradis.”

Solina swallowed, her hands trembling slightly as she clasped them together. “But… will they accept? Will Captain Levi agree to this?”

The emperor’s gaze turned calculating again. “That is for Paradis to decide. The proposal has been sent. It is now up to them to accept or decline.”

Solina lowered her gaze, her mind racing with thoughts of the unknown future. She had heard stories of Levi, of the unimaginable strength he wielded, but also of his cold, ruthless nature. And Paradis… It was a world so foreign to her, filled with scars from a violent past.

But she knew, deep down, that this was her fate. She had been raised for this—to be a symbol of Valoria’s power, to bind nations together through her marriage. Yet the thought of leaving everything she had ever known, of traveling to a place like Paradis, made her chest tighten with fear.

“I understand, Father,” Solina said quietly, though her heart pounded in her chest. “I will do what is required of me.”

Emperor Armand nodded, satisfied. “Good. Prepare yourself, Solina. Your future awaits.”

As Solina left the throne room, the weight of her duty pressing heavily on her, she couldn’t help but wonder what awaited her across the sea. Would Captain Levi—this hardened, legendary soldier—accept the marriage? And even if he did, could she truly fulfill her role in a place as dangerous and unpredictable as Paradis?

Only time would tell.

…

The Rose House was quiet as the evening set in, the golden glow of the setting sun casting long shadows through the windows of the grand dining hall. The atmosphere was far from the usual warmth that accompanied family dinners in the Rose House. Tonight, tension hung thick in the air, unspoken but palpable, especially for Princess Solina. She sat at the long, ornate table, her hands resting gently in her lap, her gaze distant as she stared at the untouched plate before her.

The Emperor, dressed in his regal attire, sat at the head of the table, his presence as commanding as ever. Lady Solana, his Rose Consort, sat to his right, her fiery red hair tied elegantly, but her emerald-green eyes were clouded with unease. Beside her sat Solina’s siblings—Prince Soloman, the heir to the throne, and her younger siblings, Princess Soleil and the twins, Princess Solenne and Prince Solander. Each of them, like Solina, shared their mother’s striking red hair and vibrant green eyes, a feature that made the Rose House unmistakably distinct from the others.

But tonight, the beauty and elegance of the family seemed overshadowed by the grim news that loomed over them.

The Emperor cut into his meal with precision, as if unaware of the tension that clung to every corner of the room. Lady Solana, however, was less composed. Her hands, usually graceful and poised, were clasped tightly together on the table, her knuckles white from the pressure. She had said little since the Emperor arrived, but her disapproval was clear in the glances she occasionally cast toward him.

Solina couldn’t stop her mind from drifting back to the conversation in the throne room. The mention of Captain Levi Ackerman’s name still echoed in her head—Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, a man feared and respected across the world, known for his ruthless efficiency in battle. How could she, a sheltered princess who had spent her life in the seclusion of the Rose House, ever form a bond with a man like him?

She glanced across the table at her mother, who caught her eye with a soft, understanding look. Lady Solana had always been a figure of calm and grace in Solina’s life, but tonight, even she seemed unable to hide her concern.

The Emperor, finishing his bite, finally broke the silence, his voice deep and commanding. “Solina, I trust you understand the importance of what has been set in motion.”

The words felt like a lead weight, pressing down on her chest. Solina nodded slowly, though her voice was soft, almost hesitant. “I do, Father. But I cannot help but wonder… how will this marriage even work? Captain Levi… he is known for his strength in battle, but what of his heart? Will he—”

“Care for you?” The Emperor’s voice cut through her words, though not unkindly. “That is not what this marriage is about, Solina. It is about securing the future of Valoria and ensuring that Paradis becomes our ally. Emotions are secondary to duty.”

Lady Solana’s hands tightened further, her voice soft but firm. “But she is still your daughter, Armand. Shouldn’t her happiness matter as well?”

The Emperor’s expression remained unreadable, his eyes flicking to his consort. “Her happiness lies in the strength of Valoria. The world is not as kind as you may wish it to be, Solana. Solina’s duty to this family is clear.”

Solomon, who had been silently fuming beside Solina, finally spoke, his voice sharp with frustration. “Father, this isn’t just about politics. You’re sending Solina off to a place we know very little about, to marry a man we’ve only heard stories of. Stories that paint him as a killer, a man forged in blood and war. Is this truly the life you want for her?”

The Emperor’s gaze hardened, his voice cool. “Solomon, you are the heir to this throne. You, more than anyone, should understand the necessity of alliances. Paradis is no ordinary island. It is a nation that was once isolated and ravaged by Titans. They are a people hardened by centuries of conflict, much like Captain Levi. If we are to survive in this ever-changing world, we must secure this alliance.”

Solomon’s jaw clenched, his green eyes burning with defiance. “I understand duty, Father, but I won’t stand by while Solina is sent to a place like that, to marry a man who likely has no regard for her as a person.”

Solina flinched slightly at her brother’s words, though she couldn’t deny that the same fears had crossed her mind. What kind of life awaited her in Paradis? Would Captain Levi even care for her, or would she simply be another pawn in the grand game of politics? Would she ever experience love, or would she be bound to a man whose heart had long since been hardened by war?

Lady Solana reached over, gently placing a hand on Solina’s arm. “My daughter, it is natural to feel fear in the face of uncertainty. But know that no matter where you go, you carry the strength of this family with you.”

Solina looked down at her mother’s hand, the warmth of her touch bringing a brief moment of comfort. “I understand, Mother… I know this is my duty, but…” Her voice faltered, and she looked up at the Emperor, her green eyes filled with uncertainty. “Will I ever have a chance to know love? Will this Captain Levi… will he care for me as a person, or am I only a tool in this alliance?”

The Emperor’s expression softened, if only slightly. “Levi Ackerman is not a man of sentiment, that much is certain. But he is a man of honor. If he agrees to this marriage, you will be respected. That is all I can promise.”

Solina’s heart sank at his words. Respected. But was that enough? Would she be able to live a life devoid of affection, of warmth? The thought of spending her days with a man who saw her only as a political asset sent a chill down her spine.

The twins, Solenne and Solander, had been quiet for most of the meal, but Soleil, ever the perceptive one, spoke up, her voice gentle but filled with concern. “Sister, if this is your fate, then we will support you. But it is unfair for you to face this alone.”

Solina smiled weakly at her younger sister, appreciating her words but knowing that, in the end, she would be alone in this. She would be leaving everything behind—the familiar halls of the Rose House, the safety of the royal garden, the comfort of her family.

Prince Solander, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally looked up, his young face etched with concern. “Why does it have to be Solina? Can’t someone else go?”

The Emperor sighed, his patience thinning. “Because Solina is the one I have chosen. She is the Diamond of the First Water, the jewel of Valoria. Her influence, her grace, will secure this alliance in a way that no one else could.”

The words felt heavy, a reminder of the expectations that had been placed on her from birth. Solina had always known she would one day be used to secure a political alliance, but the reality of it was far more painful than she had anticipated.

As the dinner continued, Solina remained quiet, her thoughts swirling like the winds outside the palace. Her future was no longer her own. It belonged to Valoria, to her father’s ambitions, and now, perhaps, to a man she had never met—Captain Levi Ackerman.

And yet, deep down, a small part of her wondered… could there be more to him than the stories told? Could she find something beyond duty in this marriage, some flicker of connection in a world so dominated by war and politics?

…

As the evening wound down, the atmosphere in the Rose House remained thick with unspoken tension. After the grim dinner, the royal children began to retire to their respective quarters. Princess Solene and Prince Solander’s nanny appeared quietly at the entrance of the dining hall, bowing respectfully before stepping forward to escort the twins to bed. They left with only murmurs of goodnight, their young faces still etched with worry, especially for their elder sister.

Solomanr lingered a moment longer, his hand resting on the back of his chair as he cast one last glance at Solina. There was a silent promise in his eyes—he would not forget his disapproval of their father’s decision, nor would he stop fighting for his sister. But tonight, there was nothing more to say. With a stiff nod, he too left the room, his steps echoing down the grand hallway. Princess Soleil followed behind him after casting a sympathetic look to Solina.

Solina remained seated, staring after her siblings as they disappeared from sight. Her mind was still a tempest of thoughts, swirling around Captain Levi, the foreign land of Paradis, and her unknown future. It felt as though the weight of the empire had been placed on her shoulders, and though she knew her duty, the path ahead felt colder and more isolated than ever. She needed some time alone to process everything.

Lady Solana stood, the elegance of her movements betraying none of the turmoil she harbored. “Come, Armand,” she said softly to the emperor. “Let us retire for the night.”

Emperor Armand rose from his seat with his usual regal air, but there was a quietness in his demeanor now that the formal dinner had ended. He followed his Rose Consort toward her chambers, his expression thoughtful. They moved through the long, polished corridors in silence, the faint sound of rustling tapestries the only indication of movement in the palace. The quiet was comforting, but also foreboding.

When they reached Lady Solana’s chambers, the heavy wooden doors closed behind them, and the warmth of the room enveloped them. The grand chamber was adorned with the finest silks and luxurious furnishings, befitting the Rose Consort, but tonight, its opulence did little to comfort her. Once the doors clicked shut, the facade of formality melted away.

Lady Solana, her eyes filled with restrained frustration, turned to face the emperor. “Armand,” she began, her voice softer but no less firm, “I will speak plainly. I am not happy with your decision.”

The emperor didn’t immediately respond, instead taking a slow breath as he moved toward the window, his hands clasped behind his back. The light of the moon cast a pale glow over the room, illuminating the tension that hung between them.

“I knew you wouldn’t be,” he said quietly, his voice no longer carrying the authority of a ruler, but that of a man who shared a life with her. “But you must understand, Solana, that this is necessary.”

Lady Solana moved to stand beside him, her vibrant red hair cascading down her back, and for a moment, she simply looked at him. Her heart ached—not just for Solina, but for the impossible choices that came with ruling a nation like Valoria. “Necessary, yes. But you are sending our daughter to a man we know nothing about, in a land torn apart by war and Titans. This is not what I wanted for her.”

Armand’s gaze softened, just slightly, as he turned to face his consort. The weight of leadership had never been easy, but when it involved his children, it became even more difficult. Especially with Solina, his talented, quiet daughter who shared so much of his own heart.

“I understand your concern,” he said, his voice gentler now. “But Solina’s role, her duty, is no different from the one I have placed on all my other children. It is true that Captain Levi is not like the nobles we are accustomed to, but he is a man of honor and strength. In Paradis, his name carries more weight than any royal title.”

Lady Solana looked at him sharply. “And what of love, Armand? Will she be given the chance to know it, or will her life be spent in the shadow of this alliance? I’ve seen the way she looks when she thinks no one is watching—she fears this as much as she accepts it.”

The emperor’s face softened further. Despite his stoic exterior, Armand had always held a special place in his heart for Solina. Like him, she was a virtuoso, gifted in music, and they had bonded over countless evenings spent together playing instruments, lost in the solace of their shared art. Solina had always understood him in a way few others did.

“I hope,” he said softly, “that she will find happiness, even if her path begins with duty. Levi is not a man of sentiment, but he is not without honor. I would not send her to a man who would harm her, Solana. I know this is not easy for her—for either of us—but this is the role we must play.”

Lady Solana let out a quiet sigh, her frustration still present but tempered by her husband’s words. She knew Armand loved his children, especially Solina, but love did not change the harsh realities of their world. “And what of us?” she asked. “Do you believe this alliance will even hold? Do you think Paradis will accept the terms?”

Armand turned back toward the window, his gaze distant as he looked out over the sprawling garden below. His mind, ever calculating, was already several steps ahead. “I believe they will. Paradis is in no position to refuse an alliance that can give them the resources they need. And more than that, I believe that Solina’s presence will solidify that bond.”

He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as his thoughts shifted to the larger picture. “The ice burst stone, Solana—it is the key to everything. With access to it, we can create weapons unlike anything the world has ever seen. Weapons that will ensure Valoria remains the strongest empire for generations to come. And if Paradis stands with us, we will be untouchable.”

Lady Solana’s lips pressed into a thin line. She had heard her husband speak of the ice burst stone many times before, his plans for its potential vast and ambitious. But tonight, it felt different. The stakes were higher, and the consequences, more dangerous.

“And what of Marley? Or our other allies?” she asked quietly. “Do you believe they will stand by while we ally ourselves with Paradis?”

The emperor’s expression darkened slightly. “No. They will not be pleased. Especially Marley. They have their own agenda, and they will not take kindly to our involvement with Paradis. But it won’t matter. Once we have the ice burst stone and Paradis’ loyalty, we will be unstoppable. With those two powers combined, even Marley will have to tread carefully.”

Lady Solana studied him for a moment, seeing the resolve in his eyes. He was a man who never made decisions lightly, always weighing every possible outcome before moving forward. And yet, despite his calculated approach, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of uncertainty. The world was shifting, and while Valoria had always stood strong, the tides of power were unpredictable.

“And what of Solina?” she whispered, her voice softer now. “Do you truly believe she will be able to navigate this world of politics and war, far from home, far from everything she knows?”

The emperor’s gaze softened once more, and he placed a hand gently on Lady Solana’s shoulder. “She is stronger than she knows, Solana. I have seen it in her music, in the way she carries herself. She will find her way. And I hope that, in time, she will find something more than just duty in Paradis.”

Lady Solana nodded, though her heart was still heavy. The future was uncertain, but there was little more to be said. Duty, as always, came first. But for now, in the quiet of their shared chambers, the emperor and his consort allowed themselves a moment of vulnerability, knowing that the choices they made now would shape the world for years to come.

And as the night wore on, the weight of the empire settled over them both, its demands as relentless as ever.

…

The early morning sun bathed the Rose House in a soft golden glow, casting long shadows across the pristine garden. Emperor Armand Hein, as was his custom, woke before dawn, his mind already turning to the day’s many responsibilities. He dressed quickly, preparing to make his usual rounds to the other houses—Lily, Dahlia, and Peony—to see his other consorts and children before returning to the main palace. But as he made his way toward the door, something caught his attention.

A discordant melody echoed through the halls, the sound of a piano played with forceful, uneven strokes. The emperor paused, recognizing the chaotic rhythm immediately—it was Solina. She had always been able to express her emotions through music more clearly than words, and now her turmoil was evident in the frantic, disjointed notes.

Concern flashed across his otherwise composed face. He stood for a moment, listening to the melody’s erratic nature. The dissonance was jarring, a clear reflection of the uncertainty and anxiety his daughter was feeling about the engagement to Captain Levi. Emperor Armand had always understood Solina better than anyone, but hearing her like this reminded him of how deeply this decision had affected her.

He turned away from the exit and instead made his way toward the music room, the sound growing louder with each step. When he entered the room, Solina was seated at the grand piano, her fingers moving quickly over the keys, producing a melody that was as stormy and chaotic as the thoughts likely racing through her mind.

Without a word, the emperor approached the piano and sat beside her on the bench. Solina did not stop playing, though she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. The emperor’s expression was soft, understanding. He placed his fingers on the keys and, with expert precision, began to play alongside her. His notes seamlessly blended into hers, taking the jagged, dissonant melody and slowly smoothing it out, guiding it into something more structured, more harmonious.

Solina didn’t speak, but she followed his lead, her melody adjusting to his. The chaos in her playing gradually shifted, and soon, their music intertwined, the notes dancing together in perfect synchrony. What had begun as a discordant expression of frustration and fear transformed into something beautiful, a rich, layered composition that filled the room with a sense of calm and connection.

They played together for several minutes, neither of them speaking. But they never needed words. The music was their shared language, a bond that transcended the weight of duty and expectation. Through the piano, they communicated all the things that had been left unsaid the night before—her fears, his reassurances, their unspoken love for one another.

As the final note faded into the air, the emperor turned to his daughter and gently pulled her into a hug. Solina hesitated for a moment, but then she leaned into the embrace, closing her eyes and allowing herself to feel the comfort her father offered.

“You are strong enough for this, Solina,” the emperor murmured, his voice soft but filled with conviction. “You’ve been preparing for this your whole life. And I believe Captain Levi will grow to care for you, perhaps even love you. How could he not? You are kind, talented, and passionate about everything you do. You are beautiful inside and out, my daughter. Truly, a Diamond in every way.”

Solina took a deep breath, her heart calming slightly at her father’s words. His confidence in her, in this situation, made her feel more at ease. Perhaps this marriage wouldn’t be the cold, loveless union she feared. Perhaps there was hope that she could find something meaningful in this new life awaiting her in Paradis.

Just as she was about to respond, the door to the music room creaked open, and one of the maids entered, her face pale with urgency. “Your Majesty,” the maid said, bowing deeply. “The royal secretary has just received a letter from Paradis.”

Solina’s stomach dropped, and her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled away from her father’s embrace. The emperor’s expression shifted to one of focus, the warmth fading as his mind immediately turned to the political implications of what this letter might contain.

“Fetch Lady Solana,” the emperor ordered the maid. “Tell her to meet us in the main palace at once.”

The maid bowed again and hurried off, leaving Solina and the emperor standing in the silence of the music room. Solina felt a lump forming in her throat. The moment she had been dreading was here. The letter would contain Paradis’ response. Would they accept her as Captain Levi’s bride? And if they did, what would her future look like?

“Come, Solina,” the emperor said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We will face this together.”

Solina nodded, though her heart was racing. She followed her father out of the Rose House and through the sprawling palace grounds, her mind swirling with a thousand thoughts. The walk to the main palace felt long, each step heavier than the last. The emperor, as always, moved with purpose, his posture regal and commanding, but Solina could sense the tension in him. He, too, understood the gravity of the situation.

When they arrived at the main palace, the royal secretary was already waiting, standing in front of the grand doors to the emperor’s study. In his hands, he held a sealed letter bearing the crest of Paradis. Lady Solana arrived shortly after, her face calm but her eyes filled with worry. She moved to stand beside Solina, placing a comforting hand on her arm.

The emperor took the letter from the secretary with steady hands, his expression unreadable as he broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. The room fell into an almost unbearable silence as the emperor’s eyes scanned the contents of the letter. Solina could hardly breathe, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for him to speak.

Finally, the emperor looked up, his face neutral but his voice carrying the weight of the moment. “Paradis has accepted the engagement of Captain Levi Ackerman and Princess Solina.”

Solina’s breath caught in her throat. It was happening. The marriage was confirmed. She would be leaving Valoria, leaving the life she had always known, to marry a man she had never met in a land so far from her own.

The emperor continued, his tone measured. “They have also requested a formal meeting between myself and Princess Solina. It seems they wish to solidify the details of the alliance in person.”

Lady Solana’s grip on Solina’s arm tightened slightly, her worry evident, but she said nothing. Solina felt her legs weaken for a moment, but she steadied herself, taking in the full scope of what was happening. A formal meeting with Paradis meant that everything was real now. She would soon face the people of Paradis—Eren Jaeger, the Survey Corps, and, of course, Captain Levi.

The emperor handed the letter to the royal secretary, his voice firm and commanding once again. “Prepare a response immediately. Inform Paradis that we welcome their representatives in Valoria and will make arrangements for their visit.”

The royal secretary bowed and quickly left the room to carry out the order, leaving the emperor, Lady Solana, and Solina standing in silence.

The emperor turned to Solina, his eyes softening once more. “This is the first step, my daughter. I know it is daunting, but you are ready for this. We will meet them here in Valoria, and you will show them the strength and grace that makes you who you are. Captain Levi will come to see what I see—that you are not just a symbol, but a person worthy of love and respect.”

Solina nodded, though her mind still raced with uncertainty. She knew her father believed in her, but the future seemed more unpredictable than ever. Yet, as she stood beside her parents, she felt a flicker of resolve deep within her. This was her duty, and she would face it with the same strength and dignity that had been instilled in her since birth.

She could only hope that Levi Ackerman, Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, would come to see her as more than just a pawn in this grand game of politics.

~

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Ch. I - August 1975 - Italy - Tunisia – Algeria – Morocco – Spain – France – Italy.

BENALMADENA COSTA - SPAIN Luxurious residence, swimming pool right in front of the entrance to the apartment, we were already looking forward to the two weeks of complete relaxation after so much travelling. We were close to the fence, it was very early, and my friend uncle's family were certainly still sleeping.

''Let's try to guess who owns the clothes hanging out to dry, right in front of the apartment windows'' I told Gianluigi. . Then suddenly something unexpected happens: the door of the apartment opens and an elderly lady comes out, dressed with a nightgown: she didn't look like Mrs. Proserpio at all! We look at each other bewildered:

''Maybe the apartment booked was not available, and the management assigned another one?'' It was my friend guess.....

''Well .......it happens sometimes...'' I reply. At this point we went to Residence reception in order to ask where the Proserpio family is staying. The kind receptionist consults a list and than, with a smile says:

''Disculpa, but Senora Proserpio called me' and canceled the apartment reservation'' -WHAAAAT??

Yes, asi es…….disculpa Senor…. Disconcertion - great - mine and Gianluigi's……….also because August 15th in the Costa del Sol - as in many other parts of Europe is the peak of the summer season. ''Do you have a free apartment for the next 15 days''? We ask hopefully. ''Forgive me, but the residence is complete''.

And this was the phrase we heard repeated from the ''1267 hotels'' where we asked for a room for the whole holiday, along the coast from Benalmadena to Torremolinos and surrounding areas. Desperate, but not defeated, we resorted to ''Plan B'': the tent! We had brought, just in case, the tent purchased a year earlier from Bertoni Camping for the holiday in Riccione '68. And now it was good to have it! We found a campsite but? Worn out! And what do we do? We installed our tent just beside the campsite entrance, so we could use the campsite services without paying a pesetas! In short, a reckless life, just a week, to allow the mid-August crowd to leave and vacate some apartments. We found an apartment just a week later in Benalmadena: a decent residence, but at this point we certainly couldn't be picky. Having found a roof for the day (we used to spent the night somewhere else) we only had to find a place to refresh ourselves in the evening, and once again our lucky stars met us: we discovered el ''Restaurante de Raoul! ''. He was an Argentinian by origin, married to an Italian woman, and domiciled in Biella, Italy. For the summer of 1975 he had rented a small restaurant on the road between Benalmadena and Torremolinos, and delighted the customers in a mix of Argentine, Spanish and Italian cuisine. The female cook was Spanish, and Roul had brought his twelve-year-old son from Italy, but not his wife, since she was managing a Bed & Breakfast in Biella. It was our luck: not only did the cook prepare us timbales of macaroni, delicious fish baked in foil, but we had become friends with Roul: so off to the aperitifs and sangria that flowed like rivers! And at the end of dinners Raoul was always asking us:

What do you want to pay??!!

In short, it was a lucky step from the unfortunate surprise of the Mr. Proserpio's non-arrival and we had few ''dias feliz''. By the way, we learned more about the reasons for Mr. Proserpio's giving up, once we returned home. They had arrived - it seems - all the way to Alicante, where they had had mechanical problems with the Opel Rekord they were traveling with. Hence the (absurd) decision to turn around, return to Italy, and cancel the reservation of the apartment in Benalmadena (did we recover the deposit? No, that was lost too…) Until the end of August nothing special to report, just a quiet life, sea-pool-sleepless nights, big moguls in the evening and revelry chez Roul. Then, inevitably, the day of returning to Italy arrived, and a request from Raoul literally left us speechless: - Guys, you know that I trust you, right? - Yes Raoul… - Well I ask you a favor: my son has to start school again soon, and I instead will have to stay here at least until the end of September - So? - If you agree, could you take him with you to Italy? The car is big, and there are only two of you…. - Well…yes……why not? This will only make us take a detour towards Biella, but in a journey of over 2,000 km it's a small thing in the end…… In truth we had decided to accept, given that, as it was the end of the holiday, money was scarce. So we were counting on the help that would certainly come from Raoul, since he would surely provide his son with a sum of money for a trip of at least 3 days……. (or not?). The moment we start our journey back to Italy, it always brings mixed feeling: returning home, seeing relatives and friends..... but also sadness for the end of the holidays, and the awareness that the easy life of the Saniard's was over. And we'll have to wait a whole year to the next holiday…. We left Benalmadena in the morning (not early because Gianluigi let's say he wasn't an ''early bird' guy) and the first stop was Valencia, some 800 km away, where we arrived in the evening. A drab city then, later the European Community funds and investments for the America's Cup sailing will transform it into a more pleasant place. That evening we choose a typical Valencian restaurant, because it is true that the city was not so nice like other Spain's cities, but the Valencian cuisine is excellent, starting with the famous ''Paella a la Valenciana''. The restaurant is called El Pederniz, typical local cuisine. Great feast of seafood appetizers, cold and hot, then paella para todos, and finally ''Arnadi'', a typical Valencian postre, a mixture of pumpkin and sugar, cooked in the oven and subsequently decorated with almonds and pine nuts. All washed down with excellent Blanco Bodega Reto.

We pay, but we were certain that Paolino (Raoul's son) will have enough money in store to guarantee us a night in a hotel nearby, but..... INSTEAD NO!!! After leaving the restaurant and returning to the car, while we were discussing which hotel to choose for the night, Gianluigi asked the fateful question that we should have asked BEFORE departure: - Paolino how much money did your dad give you? - Nothing…….. - ……….Silence……. - How….nothing? - Yes, says Paolino after a hesitation, Dad said that you would take care of everything…….'' - Machecazzzzzz……………..(Italian bad word) And now we were in the sh*****… if we had known we wouldn't have spent all those pesetas in the best restaurant of Valencia. But than it was like that.... cursing Raoul and sending him all the insults in Spanish we know, I started the car and go out of Valencia, took the motorway again, and then stopped at the first service area and slept in the car. Lucky for us, the Citroen DS19 has a paddle shift and front-wheel drive, so it was equipped with seats which, when lowered, form a comfortable bed. And this is how we slept, and how we would sleep next night too. After a trip in which we spoke little, we then took Paolino to Biella - his mother was very happy to see him again after more than two months of absence. The kind Lady also hosted us for lunch (goodness of her…) after which we set off for the last stage, towards our hometown. (sigh)

Benalmadena - Spain

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‪Medusa Ex Makina‬

‪Chapter 4: Not an Instructor‬

‪Rated: M for Mature ‬

‪Warnings: None‬

‪Author’s Note: Ohoho, now we’re getting into some crazy shenanigans! The first arc is slowly coming to a close but the curtains rise on something bigger going on in the background.‬

From the morning she woke up on her new high end mattress, to eating the most extravagant breakfast, and to even getting ready in her very own private luxury bathroom, Makina felt like a fairytale princess. A very brutal, fairytale princess. She still couldn’t believe that she went from the world’s shittiest apartment, to living in a ginormous castle that was also home to the world’s most famous metal band in the universe! It was a dream come true for the rookie metal singer, and she didn’t want to wake up. It had been a whole week since she began living in Mordhaus and the first thing she wanted to do today was to check out that state of the art music room she was shown on the house tour. Makina remembered that the music room was close to one of the recording studios. The room itself had a satin red velvet carpet with the signature medieval theming on one of the walls, there was another vampiric looking sofa and sawblade coffee table near the back end of the room. There were various different instruments placed around, from hanging on display to larger instruments that took up more space. This room oozed with creativity that got the gears in her brain turning as inspiration struck. The one thing that caught Makina’s eye was the bright sunburst orange, limited edition, Gibson “Les Paul” piano. A beautiful Baldwin 243, aka a classically shaped upright piano. Pressing a G note, it showed that the piano was perfectly tuned and maintained. Makina giddily sat down and began to play a favorite song of hers. As she played, she began to sing along with her own accompaniment.

She hummed along to the instrumentals and lost herself to the melody and rhythm of the song. She was completely engulfed in her own fantasy of being on a large stage, the thousands of imaginary people watching and raising their phones’ flashlights to the sky like a sea of twinkling stars. A set of tiptoeing footsteps came way towards Makina as she began to sing the next part of the song. Makina’s eyes still shut, imagining the crowd cheering for her. Her piano playing became more intricate and elaborate as the mystery viewer gingerly opened the music room door wider. The onlooker watched on as she played with frantic precision and grace, slowly coming back down to the simple melody she was playing at the start. The figure walked closer to her, ever so slightly leaning against the piano’s body. Gently coming back down, playing the last few notes until she accidentally missed. Makina opened her eyes at the sour note and then was taken aback by the reveal of her secret spectator. “Nots bads fors a pianos players.” Skwisgaar smirked, “It ams nots the sames as playings guitars, but it ams stills verys talenteds-ka.” Makina’s face began to burn up. She didn’t know what to say to the suave swede, it was as if words of gratitude had completely been erased from her vocabulary and instead replaced with stuttering nonsense.

Deep down in the pits of her soul, Makina would have screamed like the rabid fangirl she was. To her this was cloud 9, the highest praise she was ever going to get for a long time. Skwisgaar was always her favorite member of Dethklok; not for his looks, his foreign european charm, or his supposed “raw sex appeal” that made everyone drool over him. No, she admired him for his passionate love for music. The way he talked about building custom guitars, his avid knowledge about song composition in interviews. Makina had always admired him for the skills that he possessed. And now he was complimenting her piano playing! Makina’s expression became dopey as she was completely deaf to the criticism coming from the slim man’s lips; she was far too distracted by his fervor to even care. “Ams yous listenings or watchings fairies dancings?” Makina was shaken back to reality by Skwisgaar’s annoyance. “S-sorry, I didn’t catch that last bit. Can you please repeat that?” Makina asked dumbfoundedly. Skwisgaar exasperatedly sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Oks, Ams goings to puts its in babies termkanologists. Yous gots a vibratos problems whens you do thems melotics singings. Thats ams whens yous makes yours voices sounds like you ams in an earths shakers. You ams puts too much ofs its ams in the last notes ins everys verses. You ams gots a goods voices buts stills lots of needings improverments.” And there it was, Makina finally got her wake up call.

She had a vibrato problem?! She supposed a death growling vocal set could only take her so far. ‘Wait, how come no one told me about my vibrato!?’ “Oh… damn…” those were the only words she managed to say before slouching further into her seat. Makina closed the piano, ashamed to even play anymore and leaned onto her elbows on the hard wooden cover. She was forever grateful that a musical genius like Skwisgaar would catch such an obvious problem. But boy, he placed a real shiner on her ego. “How do you suppose I fix it?” Makina questioned with dullness in her voice. “Simples fix, practice lots. Haves yous evers taken proper vocals lessons?” Makina tried to recall a time in her life where she had any form of formal training, then it dawned on her. “Well, I was in a children’s choir from pre-k to eighth grade. But that’s ‘cause I went to an all girls church school.”

“And there ams the trunks ofs thems problem. Choirs does nots shows your fullest range ofs singings, you ams playing matchings with others harmonies. Plus thems operatics mess with yous as a solo singers. So, you ams gots to retrains yous voices.” Makina’s eyes filled with a sudden burst of pluck, “If that’s what it takes, then I’ll do it!” she exclaimed with a fiery passion. Skwisgaar was taken aback by Makina’s sudden enthusiasm, he had never seen anyone determined after being harshly reprimanded. Makina was truly something else. “Skwisgaar, you should give me more pointers!”

”What, nos! That jobs shoulds bes for someones like maybes Pickle or more importantlys Nathans. Am’st he not yours mentors?” Skwisgaar questioned. “Yeah, but it’s good to get other people’s perspectives. Besides, Nathan keeps pushing back my apprenticeship.” Skwisgaar raised an eyebrow of concern at Makina’s nonchalant attitude. Back when he was mentoring Toki, there was a sense of urgency to advance his training. But since Makina wasn’t a part of Dethklok, he supposed that the circumstances were entirely different. Even still, the guitarist couldn’t stand to see Makina flounder without a sense of direction.

XxxX

Meanwhile in Nathan’s bedroom, the hulking vocalist was hunched over at his desk scribbling away in a notebook. He was discussing with Pickles more ideas for a new record. “What if you added that idea you had when we were in Costa Rica. You know, the one about underbites hooking onto flesh.” Pickles suggested as he laid on the singer’s bed. “Uh… oh the anglerfish thing! We did that already.”

”Oh fuck. Guess you’re really losing your touch.” Nathan placed his pen down and put his hand on his forehead. “Don’t say that, it’s just been a bit more… I don’t know. Is stressed the right word?” He said with frustration. Pickles sat up from the bed and crossed his legs, “Stressed? About what, the record?” Nathan shook his head, he didn’t have the right words to describe what was bothering him. Before he could give his drummer a response, Skwisgaar opened his door with Makina tucked away behind him. The slender musician roughly tugged Makina’s arm, dragging her into Nathan’s room and leading her towards the singer’s desk. Pickles turned to see the younger vocalist with an apprehensive look on their face. “Medusas, tells Nathan’s whats yous needs.” Skwisgaar pulled Makina’s arm a bit more. He gestured her to speak, she sighed. “Mr. Explosion, I… I need you to… I need you to give me proper vocal lessons during my apprenticeship. Um… now would be nice.” Makina sheepishly stated, she looked away with embarrassment. The bruise on her ego made itself known as she fiddled with the zipper on her hoodie, hiding her hands in the sleeves. Nathan looked up at Pickles and pointed at Makina. “This, this is my answer.” Nathan said with a drop of frustration in his tone. Pickles scratched his beard with a wide eyed expression, he somewhat comprehended Nathan’s emotions. The ginger dreaded man hopped off of Nathan’s bed and walked closer towards Makina and Skwisgaar. “You know what kiddo, how about I take over for Nathan as your mentor for today. Is that fine?” Pickles asked warmly, Makina hummed in agreement and Pickles led the raven haired lady out of the room with Skwisgaar following suit. She took a quick glance to see Nathan with a disappointed look on his face.

XxxX

“Alright so let me get this straight, you have a vibrato problem?” Makina silently nodded, “How is that possible? When you covered ‘Hatredcopter’ at Doom-opolis, I couldn’t hear any issues.”

”That’s because the song had more growling and it wasn’t as melotic. I want to be able to sing properly without having to overuse my voice with only death screams.” Pickles leaned into the music room’s couch arm and placed his hand over his mouth. “Whys don’ts yous shows Pickle.” Skwisgaar said as he leaned a bit into the piano, Makina gulped nervously and looked down at the ebony and ivory shine of the keys. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and began playing the same song as before. Taking into consideration that Pickles and Skwisgaar were watching, her concentration began to falter a bit. Missing a few notes here and there and then finally before the end of the second verse, her voice cracked. Makina stopped playing and began to cough up the saliva that was caught in her windpipe. “Geez, You got more than a vibrato issue there.”

”Ja, you soundeds worsers that times.” Skwisgaar cringed. “I don’t know about that I mean, it was more… pitchy.” Pickles said as he walked towards the piano. “Sorry, just nerves. I can try again.” Makina began playing from the second verse onward, her heart felt as if it was twisting in knots as every beat made her chest tighter. Her hands shook as Makina attempted to calm down, and once more she missed another note. “I’m sorry… I just don’t think I can do this.”

”Oh come on Makina, you got this. Here, maybe just try another song?” Makina put her hands back in the sleeves of her hoodie, Skwisgaar noticed this and realized something. “Medusas, take offs yours jackets and toss it overs theres.” Skwisgaar commanded, he pointed back to the sofa. Without hesitation, Makina did as she was told and threw her hoodie to the side. The air in the music room was much colder than she had expected, shivers went down her spine as the crisp air conditioned room touched her skin. “Skwisgaar, how the hell is that going to help?”

“Justs watchs. Ok now, sings.” Makina closed her eyes, and began to play a different song.

As she sang, something strange began to happen. The lighting in the room began to darken, with her concentration deepened Makina’s voice began to echo. Her vocals became louder and louder, the melody of the piano began to swell. But somehow, they could hear more than just a piano playing. It was as if there was a whole orchestra accompanying Makina’s song. And it was here Pickles and Skwisgaar had seen something unreal, a greenish glow began to surround Makina. They could see a faint string of lights begin to form some sort of image, but it was far too blurry for them to comprehend. Skwisgaar’s eyes widened at the display he so inevitably caused. Meanwhile Pickles was far too stunned to utter a word. He just knew something about this felt so wrong and yet, this sight felt so oddly comforting to him. As if right on cue, Nathan walked in to see the familiar display of lights. Makina began to softly sing and the green aura began to die down a bit. But then with a burst of fortissimo, the aura became clear to them. Green floating metal chains began surrounding Makina as if she was in a tangled bird cage.

The music began to die down as she was playing the last few notes of the song. She didn’t even miss one and her singing was once again, in perfect pitch. “What the actual hell was that?!” Pickles shouted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about?” Makina replied. “Oks so it ams nots a fluke, yous cans sings nots likes shits!”

”Forget about that Skwisgaar, did you hear the background music or those chains?! Makina what was that?!” Pickles exasperated, Nathan walked closer and placed a hand on the shorter man’s shoulders to calm him down. He then quietly looked at Makina, who was confused by the whole ordeal. “Makina, care to explain yourself?” Nathan questioned, Makina shook her head. “I honestly have no clue what you're all on about. I’m sorry.” Pickles and Nathan’s faces were painted with disappointment, leaving them with more questions than answers. “Medusas, I thinks yous needs more praticings stills. Don’ts overdos its.” Skwisgaar commented calmly. Nathan looked to the side in shame, he didn’t know how or what to say to his protege. He was just as completely lost as Makina was, she gave him a look of dread.

XxxX

That night, Nathan restlessly stared at the ceiling. He was the one to vouch for Makina to be her mentor, he was the one who took interest in her singing abilities, so why was it that now he couldn’t speak with her about starting her training? ‘Mentor’, a word he was sort of familiar with. While the concept was easy to grasp, the idea of what a mentor was supposed to do was incomprehensible to the death metal vocalist. Nathan remembered the look on Makina’s face earlier that day; an expression of confusion and anxiety. He felt as frozen as the day he first saw her perform. Nathan desperately tried to wrap his head around how to fill that mentor role. Only problem was that he really didn’t have a mentor when he was starting out, Nathan had no one to go off of. The long haired singer shifted his weight, laying down on the side of his left arm. His mind began to wander off as he finally drifted to sleep.

XxxX

Within the dream, Nathan was partially nude with only his underpants deep underwater. He was all too familiar with this setting, but something about it felt off. The whale prophet was nowhere to be seen and the oceanic waters seemed shallower than usual. The only logical explanation would be to swim upward to see what he could find. Upon swimming further up, he could clearly see a shoreline. It was unusual for him to be near the surface of the water, but then he saw her. The whale prophet breached the water and was floating next to him. Nathan swam closer to the whale and gently petted her, she clicked with affection. “It is good to see you daughter, I see you have found the egg.” The prophet whispered. “What do I do?” Nathan asked. The whale whistled and nudged the singer to the shore. “Find her before he does.” She said as a large wave washed Nathan closer to the shore. Landing on the hot warm sand, he could see in the distance Makina walking closer and closer to a cave. He wanted to get up and run to her, but was paralyzed on the beach like a fish flopping about. Nathan tried to call out to her, but his voice was suffocated by hoarse coughing. It was as if Nathan couldn’t breathe and desperately tried to reach out to her. But then…

XxxX

BANG! Nathan awoke to something very loud, large beads of sweat came pouring out of him like a waterfall. He hadn’t had a dream that visceral since the eve of the Metalocalypse. Nathan rolled out of bed to see what disturbed him from his slumber, he opened the door. “Who the fuck did that!?” Nathan shouted down the hall. No answer, then a few seconds later the sound of whimpers. He rubbed his eyes, grabbed a pair of slippers, and a flashlight. ‘Probably just Toki.’ Nathan thought to himself as he followed the sound to a few doors down the hallway. Instead of Toki’s room, the sound came from Makina’s. Nathan sighed and opened her room door to find her life sized coffin shelf toppled on top of her. Makina looked up with tears in her eyes, pouting as to not make it look like she was in pain. “S-sorry for waking you. I… I fell. Clumsy me.” Makina did her best to try and make herself smile but Nathan could see right through her pained expression. The vocalist quickly stood the shelf back up and offered a hand to his raven haired student. Makina grabbed it and pulled herself up, seeing the mess around her. Nathan quickly scanned Makina to see if she was bleeding, thankfully it was only one small thin cut under the bottom of her left jaw. Nathan put his hand on her face to inspect it further, “I’m fine, really.” Makina protested, she sniffled a little bit to hide her obvious crying. “We can get a klokateer to help clean this up.” Nathan suggested, “No no, I got it. Besides, most of this stuff is very valuable.” Makina replied as she wiped away some of her tears, she knelt down and began picking up some of her belongings.

Upon moving some books around, Nathan spotted a very familiar snow globe. He knelt down to examine it further. It was a miniature Mordhaus snowglobe; the same kind of snow globe they sold at concerts, the same kind of snow globe he had given to Toki when he left for Rock-a-Rooni Fantasy Camp, and now it was shattered on the ground with the glass and water scattered on the floor. “When did you get this?” Nathan asked as Makina grabbed some tissues from her personal bathroom. “Ah, uh… well, my friend Gerard got it for me. He wasn’t able to go to the concert that year but he did buy it from the online shop. It’s too bad that I gotta toss it.” Makina said wistfully. She knelt down and began wiping the water off of the brick tile floor. Gingerly she began sweeping the glass into hand and placing it into the wastebasket by her computer desk. Nathan watched on as Makina sniffled again, tears began to flow out from her eyes. “Why were you up?” Nathan attempted to ask softly, he did his best to not push too many questions on the poor vocalist. Makina stopped dead in her tracks. “I… uh, it’s stupid and embarrassing.” The singer looked to the side sheepishly, her tears kept drizzling out from her face. “I was, I was…” Makina looked back up at Nathan and saw how concerned he looked, Makina took a breath and then spoke. “I was trying to open the coffin cabinet but it got stuck. Then everything was about to fall so I went under to try and stop it but, I got noodles for arms, and I just ended up becoming a pillow for the shelf’s fall.”

‘She was right, it was stupid.’ Nathan thought to himself as he tried to keep his composure. “Why did you want to open the coffin?” Makina looked to her right and saw the thing she was looking for. She pointed to it and Nathan picked it up, it was a crimson stained leather bound journal. Curiously, Nathan opened it up. Makina’s face flushed bright pink. Inside there were scribbles about song ideas and little doodles too. He flipped through the pages and saw a note written in red ink.

“If only Dad, Rats, and that rockstar guy could see me now. I’m sure they’d be proud.

Note to self: fix vibrato. Do it for Nathan, make him not regret choosing me!”

Nathan’s heart sank, he realized Makina was pushing herself to the max in order to impress him. But when he read over the first part again, the word ‘Dad’ echoed in his mind. Maybe Makina was homesick. “You know, you could alway call your dad.” Nathan offered, gently handing back the journal to her. Makina limply grabbed it and let it fall to the floor, “My dad’s dead Mr. Explosion, he’s been dead since I was 10.”

”You could drop the formalities Medusa.” Nathan said bluntly, “No offense, I get that you’re wanting to give me respect and all, but it’s kind of fucking weird.” Makina couldn’t hold back anymore, she couldn’t compose herself any longer and began to sob. “I’m sorry I’m not as good or as brutal as you are. I’m trying really hard to live up to your standard and I fucked up again. Please don’t kick me out!” Nathan couldn’t believe what he was hearing, her anxieties were being poured out in front of him just like back at Doom-opolis. This time he knew what he needed to do. Nathan swiftly wrapped his arms around the crying singer, her muffled screams into his shoulder now wet with her salty tears. He rubbed her back, in an attempt to finally give the singer some form of comfort. Makina’s sobs were now nothing but hushed whimpers as Nathan kept holding her. Out of instinct, Makina hugged her mentor back gripping his pajama shirt by the waist. “Makina,” Nathan said in a fatherly tone, “You’re doing a good job. Stop beating yourself up over the small shit. And you will do better, I know it. I will start your training properly tomorrow, I promise. Ok?” Makina gave a small ‘Mmm-hmm.’ And with that Nathan released Makina from the hug. He ruffled her hair a bit before helping her clean a bit of the remaining mess. Makina crawled back into her bed, “Good night Mr- I mean, Nathan.” The singer gave a small smile back and bidded his pupil good night.

[hottpinkpenguin]

Omg your Orson content is to die for, is there any chance of requesting a FemReader forbidden love fic?

Your writing is so goddamn addictive!

Hope you’re having an amazing day and keep doing good work, we appreciate it all!

JD

A/N: you're a patient angel JD, thank you for waiting! this is part one (of 3 most likely). I am incapable of leaving an excellent prompt like this to one part only! hope it's everything you wanted. more to come soon! <3

The Color of Love: Pt1

FemReader x Orson Krennic Warnings: not proofread Word count: 2706

*For those who may not be familiar with the Star Wars extended universe... BBY = Before Battle of Yavin (events in A New Hope) Rugan is a planet I created

—

Rugan, Outer Rim 4 BBY

The doors to the palace hall swung open, a hush falling over the crowded hall as you and your three brothers strode into the throng of guests. Your eldest brother had chosen a light champagne color for the occasion; the rest of you had donned identical shades of the same fabric, although different cuts. Elmir wore a floor length robe that left his bare chest and a heavy pendant of blue azurite exposed to the warm evening air. Your other brothers - Favel and Prahn - were in matching, single-shouldered togas that hung down to their ankles. They preferred to wear the same outfits, often confusing members of the court and congress as they were identical twins. Lastly, you’d chosen a close-fitting, off-the-shoulder gown with a train that fanned across the black marble floor behind you. All four of you wore white-gold crowns of varying designs. Normally, all of the attendees at court would be clad in dark blue, grays, and blacks. Only members of Ruganian royalty were permitted to wear light colors at court. On a normal day, the four of you would be the only points of light in a sea of darkness. Today, however, was far from ordinary.

Your eyes swept over the crowd, silently counting how many crisp, white uniforms you saw. Ever since the Empire had occupied three of Rugan’s eighteen moons for kyber mining, the snow-colored uniforms of Imperial Science Officers had become an increasingly common sight in Ruganian court. It pained you deeply to see how blatantly the Empire disregarded the customs of your home planet. Color had always been an incredibly important part of Ruganian ceremony, largely due to the monochromatic, gray rock landscape of your homeworld. Rugan was a rugged planet, hospitable only thanks to the incredibly advanced climate-control science of Ruganian royalty. Color was a luxury afforded to your people because of your family’s heritage, and to shirk the customs of ceremonial color was an affront to your legacy. 

You and your brothers glided solemnly across the floor, the crowd parting around you as you passed. Those native to your home bowed deeply in a sign of respect. The Imperial Science Officers who were here as representatives of the Empire watched dispassionately. They never bowed. Their suspicious, superior gazes followed you closely, but not out of love or reverence. 

Once you and your brothers had taken your customary seats at the far end of the palace hall, the spectators began to self-segregate to the outer edges of the hall. The Ruganian Senators - elected leaders who spoke on the interests of your people - began to assemble at the bottom of the dais on which you sat, while the Imperial Science Officers moved with intentional indifference. You forced your face to remain smooth as you let your hatred of the Empire sizzle in your eyes, your gaze lighting momentarily on each Officer as the Senators began their opening votes. For the most part, each Officer either returned your hateful stare with a bland expression of boredom or ignored you entirely. You knew the Empire saw you and your brothers as futile figureheads; Ruganian royalty held only a ceremonial position in government, acting as mediators for the Senators. This rendered you dispensable in the eyes of the Empire, and you had little doubt that if they’d felt confident that your assassinations wouldn’t lead to an uprising, you’d long be dead. The intensity of your hatred for the Empire clashed harshly with their apathy for you. It was enough to make your blood boil.

You let that festering rage consume you as your eyes continued to rake the crowd. Partially, you liked the silent challenge of staring long enough at an Officer to catch their eye. Elmir had also asked you to count the Officers. Each time the Empire sent some of its Science Officers to your planet’s court, there was a different number present. This was done intentionally by the Empire; they wanted to obscure the exact strength of their force garrisoned on Rugan’s outermost moon. For some reason, Elmir had reason to believe that the number present at today’s court was important, and he’d given you strict instructions to get an exact count. He hadn’t brought you into his confidence as to why he’d given you this task, although you knew it was because he was secretly working with a few of the more radical Senators on a plan to rebel against the Imperial presence on Rugan. There were rumors circulating that a galaxy-wide Rebellion was taking shape, and you knew those rumors had emboldened some on Rugan, Elmir included. 

You tried to quell the rage inside by reminding yourself of the importance of your task. As a few of the more loquacious Senators began to drone on about Rugan’s taxation practices, you forced yourself to begin a recount of the Officers present. You wanted to be certain of the number. Your eyes darted between them more quickly this time, although you took care not to be too obvious in your task lest someone notice and get suspicious. 

Thirty six… thirty seven…

Your gaze slid to the thirty-eighth Imperial Science Officer you’d counted thus far. He was watching the proceedings with an intensity that his fellow Officers didn’t share. His eyes darted between the various Senators, studying the proceedings of Ruganian court with a shrewdness that both unsettled and impressed you. You vaguely recognized him: sharp profile, brown hair peppered with gray, tall and lean, with soft blue eyes. You had a faint memory of seeing him in the palace gardens. His presence there, while not strictly forbidden, was unusual and you remember being struck by how very normal he seemed as he’d meandered aimlessly through the cultivated rows of wildflowers, appreciating each with a tenderness you’d thought a member of the Empire entirely incapable of. As that memory danced in your mind, your gaze lingered on him. He was handsome, you noted. There was a quickness in his gaze that betrayed a man of intelligence; his posture was straight and proud, his mouth puckered somewhat in concentration. You felt your brows furrow slightly as you had the disturbing realization that you were attracted to him. 

In that same instant, he turned his head in your direction, his piercing blue eyes locking with yours. He was looking right at you. Your heart went still in your chest as the air evaporated in your lungs. 

Only barely managing not to squirm in your seat, you tore your gaze away. You couldn’t keep a wave of heat from rising up your throat and staining your cheeks. You tried to still your mind, refocus on your task. Thirty nine… forty… forty one… The last thing you needed was a distraction. Forty two… forty three… Surely it couldn’t be that special that a Science Officer would take an interest in the renowned gardens of Rugan. Forty four… forty five… forty six… And after all, he was from the Empire. Whatever good he might have had, whatever intelligence he possessed, it was all being twisted and used against your people. Forty seven… forty eight… 

Against yourself, you let your eyes slip back to him after what you thought had been a generous amount of time. You were horrified to find him still staring at you, his gaze losing none of its intensity. You caught a glimpse of satisfaction in his eyes, as if you’d confirmed something he’d hypothesized. The simmering heat in your blood boiled at the sight of his smug smirk, your nostrils flaring in anger. 

“You there.”

Your voice cut through the droning pedantics of an old Senator. The crowd rustled in interest before the hall fell absolutely silent. Your brothers turned towards you in shock. It was beyond unusual for you to speak during a session of Congress, let alone to interrupt a Senator. You didn’t let your mind linger too long on the implications of your actions, trusting your instincts as you pointed at the handsome, blue-eyed Officer.

“Step forward, Officer.”

The command in your voice was final, the product of years of training. You had the unnerving sensation that the Officer didn’t obey you out of respect for your station, but rather out of a desire to save you the embarrassment of his disobedience. He shot you a surprised yet thoroughly amused glance as he wove through the parting crowd towards the bottom of the dais.

“My lady,” he murmured softly as he bowed. His bow was deeper than what was typical for an Imperial Officer. You wondered if he was mocking you with that bow, although you didn’t detect anything but curiosity in his voice.

“What is your name?”

Next to you, Favel shifted uncomfortably in his seat. You were breaking all manner of protocol, and by allowing you to continue your brothers were complicit. You had very little sense of what direction your actions were pointing you towards, but you were in too deep now. 

“Orson Krennic, my lady. Lieutenant Commander.” 

Orson Krennic. A harsh name. 

“Tell me, Lieutenant Commander, do you make it a habit to loiter in the private gardens of every planet you and your ilk occupy? Or is there something particular about my gardens that you enjoy?” 

You could practically feel your brothers’ bewildered and irate gazes boring holes in the side of your head. They weren’t your private gardens, of course; they were the property of Ruganian royalty, but they were open to your people and to guests of Rugan. You wouldn’t consider the Empire guests, exactly, although fear of retaliation had forced you to treat them as such. The lie had slipped off your tongue as easily as water off a leaf, but it was a dangerous lie. To say nothing of the disrespectful manner in which you’d referred to the assembled Imperial Science Corps. You heard a muffled whisper of irritation and protest spread through the Officers as you fixed Orson Krennic with an icy stare. He returned your gaze with a bit less amusement than before, although there was a softness in his eyes that kept the blush from completely evaporating from your cheeks.

“Forgive me, my lady,” he replied after a moment of calculation. His voice was a bit louder in an effort to talk over the rising murmur of anger in the other Imperial Officers. They fell quiet as they waited for him to continue. 

“I certainly didn’t mean any disrespect by my actions,” he went on. You couldn’t tell if you imagined that he was trying not to smile at you. “I suppose I’ll have to chalk it up to my love of beautiful things.”

There was no mistaking the way he lingered on the last two words. For the second time in as many minutes, you had to force yourself not to visibly writhe on your throne. The hall was once again tensely silent as all eyes turned to you, waiting for you to reply. You felt your mouth go dry as your mind turned to vapor. No sharp retort came to mind, and the silence stretched.

Elmir cleared his throat as he tried to refocus the conversation away from you. Your brothers knew you well enough to see that you were unnerved, although you prayed that they couldn’t deduce why.

“I believe my sister meant to inquire as to the nature of your repeated visits to the garden, Lieutenant Commander.” You relaxed slightly as Orson’s attention shifted off of you and onto your eldest brother. “We have taken notice that you visit the gardens on a regular basis, always in the evenings around the dinner bell and always alone. More cynical minds might consider your behavior suspicious.”

You tried to conceal the surprise you felt on the inside. You’d seen Orson before in the gardens, that much was true, although it seemed you weren’t half as observant as Elmir. You’d never noticed that he visited at a particular time of day, or that he was reliably alone. 

Although you were still recovering from the embarrassment of your outburst, it was Orson’s turn to trip over his tongue. All trace of levity had vanished from his eyes as he stammered out a reply to your brother’s question.

“My lord, I apologize for arousing your suspicion, although I swear to you on the Empire that my intentions were not malicious.”

As you watched him squirm uncomfortably under Elmir’s gaze, you felt an urge to intercede on his behalf. 

“Surely then you will not mind sharing your reasons for visiting the gardens,” Elmir pushed again. He sensed he had Orson cornered; there was a note of victory in his voice.

Orson swallowed thickly as he ducked his eyes down slightly. 

“As I said, I am an admirer of beauty. I haven’t seen such a collection of Nubian roses since I left my home planet.” Your mouth curled slightly at the oblique complement. The Nubian roses were your crowning achievement, the centerpiece of the gardens. You had the seeds shipped especially from Naboo, and you had gone to great pains to recreate the exact specifications of their home planet’s soil, mixing the alkaline and acidic elements yourself. Nubian roses weren’t a showy plant by any means, although a true gardener knew their temperamental nature and had an appreciation for their understated blooms. 

“For someone with an eye as keen to beauty as you claim, Lieutenant Commander, you have chosen one of the least remarkable specimens our gardens have to offer.” Your brother Favel was far from a true gardener, and he’d always scoffed at those ridiculous little flowers you’d spent so many years cultivating. He was obtuse and boastful, and he delivered the rebuke with such confidence that you almost winced at the ignorance in his statement. You caught a flicker of the same emotion in Orson’s eyes as they danced in your direction. 

A faint chuckle rippled around the crowd at Favel’s comment. The onlookers were glad to have the tension broken, and you felt the relief from both the Ruganians and the Imperial Officers alike. Although he clearly knew your brother’s opinion to be woefully misinformed, Orson too appeared grateful for the comedic respite. 

“I will have to defer to the expert knowledge of my hosts,” Orson ceded graciously, an indulgent smile spreading across his handsome face. “And I will be careful not to act in a manner that causes you to question my character further.”

Orson’s eyes met each of your brothers in turn before finally settling on you as he finished his sentence. He bowed almost imperceptibly towards you, the gesture so fleeting that you wondered if you’d really seen it. 

“Well, let us all move past this then, shall we? A short recess before our proceedings continue.” Elmir relaxed in his chair, signaling an end to the highly unusual inquiry that had sidetracked the affair. Taking their cue from Elmir’s body language, the assembly broke into relieved chatter. Orson retreated from his spot at the foot of the dais, vanishing into the crowded hall. Your eyes followed him for as long as they could before you lost track of him amongst the crowd. You felt a twinge of disappointment when he didn’t look back at you. 

There was an energy to the chatter that was unusual for the palace hall. The unorthodox departure from procedure seemed to have invigorated the onlookers; their conversations were more lively and exuberant than typical. Grateful to have something to focus on other than the irritating urge to follow Orson Krennic into the crowd, you let your mind meander around the hall. You noted a few clusters of Imperial Science Officers standing together, heads bowed in serious conversation and exchanging dark looks. A few of them shot pointed glares your way. The implications of your actions caught up with you as you realized that you’d angered them. Your pointed and public questioning of a member of the Empire reflected poorly on Rugan, you realized. You felt your stomach twist into knots as you began to consider how the Empire might react to your outburst. That worry was enough to distract you from all thoughts of Orson Krennic for the rest of the day’s proceedings.

let me know if you want to be tagged in future parts! more coming soon :)

[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

had a crash nap with very vivid dream that introduced me to a new ship dynamic: they AREN'T fucking or together, but the chemistry is so intense that no one would be surprised if they ended up together, including them.

whole dream was like running a dead-slow luxury restaurant in a post apocalypse bunker, which is less fallout-y than you'd think, but the real meat of it was my interaction with this handsome older fella who was some kind of manager. i was a personal assistant to an engineer and i was always hanging around, friends with all the kitchen staff, they'd make food for everyone and we'd stand around and bullshit and make bets.

got to a point that i replaced the janky copper solitaire ring i wore on my left ring finger with a slightly fancier ring, and a regular customer (who was kind of a skeez and not the intended clientele, was always trying to bum free food and hit on me, etc) saw that my ring changed and he looked at the older fella all wide-eyed and asked if he finally replaced that old piece of shit he saddled me with initially.

no hesitation, my not husband shrugged and said yeah, and i agreed, and the bum just scuttled off. not sure why that would put an end to him pursuing me, but maybe he realized i had standards, dunno. but that became a like big callback moment.

so my not man was leaning in the doorway to the kitchen while someone was making pasta courses and one of our cooks had a panic attack on the kitchen floor about her college wrk/existential crises about end of world, and another tried to get her to chill and go home. i couldn't stay, so i like practically pressed myself against my not man and we kind of waltz turned out the swinging door while i held onto his fingertips with my left hand fingertips, and we were talking shit. i wiggled the ring on my finger and brought that previous story up, and we didnt let go of the other's fingers.

i dont know what happened next bc my sister woke me up with dinner, but there was this massive feeling of being so chill and in sync with each other, and this like palpable knowledge that both of us would be fine making it more, and more than that very happy and excited to. anyway YEP. fun dream.

there was a lot more detail about tunnel structural engineering than i let on, and a subplot about building the bunker with the entrance facing a parking garage and leaving the structure exposed bc the raining of bombs would collapse the topsoil gathered on top of the bunker and just fill the whole thing in. and a random black and white ocean sequence where the terrors of the sea needed to be avoided but like. sure. yknow. the ocean and the terrors.