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livwritessometimes · 8 months ago

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A Footnote Will Do...(For Me)

: Charles Leclerc x Reader

: So I'll just take a footnote in your life

: Part 2

: Main Masterlist

: Author's Note: I had no plans of writing this but I got this sudden urge to write some angst.....so Tada!

…

You ate at a restaurant, the host said we're cute They think we're a couple, they bought us some booze We shared the Moscato and laughed 'cause it's true To me (to me)

The air was filled with the rich aroma of spices coming from all sorts of Italian cuisines. There was a different kind of calm in the atmosphere, which was quite contrary to what the next few days had in store. It was finally time for the Italian Grand Prix, Ferrari's home race, and a very special day for the Monegasque walking besides Y/n.

Charles Leclerc, the golden boy for Ferrari, the pride and joy of Monaco, but to her, he was simply the boy she met through his younger brother. The boy Y/n was madly in love with.

People say that love comes into your life when you least expect it to. It comes in various shapes and forms: a hug from your mother when you see her after a long time; catching up with your best friend after a stressful day at work; seeing your father gloat about you to his friends. But no one told Y/n that for her, love would enter her life in a blazing red suit and a super-fast car.

Walking down a relatively empty street in Italy, Y/n felt content. Next to her was the boy of her dreams, going on and on about how an old lady earlier today had told him he reminded her of her son and gave him a free muffin. Chuckling at the Monegasque's excitement over a baked good, Y/n took a moment to take in the young boy's appearance. He was wearing a loose-fitting shirt, some pants and a pair of sunglasses tucked in front of his shirt, nothing extraordinary, but it felt right. He offered Y/n his hand, signaling her that they had finally reached their destination.

A beautiful restaurant hidden in the streets of Italy. Covered in greenery, the place looked like it came straight out of a painting. At the entrance, an older woman with kind eyes greeted them, smiling at the pair. She offered them one of the tables that were laid out in front of the restaurant. It was almost as if the lady knew what Y/n would have liked, as she had given them a table right next to the window. It was the perfect spot to get a glimpse of the inside of the restaurant while enjoying the serene view that surrounded them.

Thanking her, Y/n and Charles gave her their order. As soon as she was out of their site, the boy in front of her began to tell another story of how he got locked in the bathroom during one of Ferrari's meetings and how it took the entire team 2 hours to get the poor boy out. It seemed like Charles had a way of finding himself in all sorts of weird and bizarre situations. It reminds her of the first time they met.

It was Arthur's birthday, and Y/n was on her way to his party when she saw a man standing on the side of the road, asking for a ride. Y/n could see the dark clouds slowly engulfing the once clear patch of sky and decided to take pity on the man. Stopping right next to him, she got to know that the strange man was none other than the birthday boy's older brother. It seemed like fate to her; what were the odds of something like this happening? Offering him a ride, both of them began the journey back to Arthur's (and Charles') house. Y/n has had first-hand experience with these bizarre situations, because not even 10 minutes after they began their journey, it started pouring down heavily, blocking any sort of visibility there was, causing them to stop the car. So Y/n and Charles spent the next, god knows how many hours, of Arthur's birthday sitting in the car chatting away. It was also the first time Y/n felt seen, truly seen.

Focusing back on Charles' story, she noticed the lady from earlier approaching them with a bottle of wine. "For the lovely couple," she said as she poured a glass each for Charles and her. "You both look cute together; I hope you stay happy for a long time," and with that, she went back inside the restaurant. Bringing up his glass to her, Charles whispered, "Cheers to the couple, I guess." Letting out a laugh, the pair shared the bottle of wine and continued their conversation. What Charles didn't realize was how fast Y/n's heart was beating after the woman's comment, because for her, it was the truth.

You said at the party that I was too drunk I told you I liked you, you said, "Sober up" But why would I lie? It's so clear I'm in love With you

The bright lights were almost blinding, and the entire club was filled with red. Everywhere you'd look, you'll see a member of the Ferrari team celebrate their hearts out. Charles had won the Italian Grand Prix; finally, all the doubts and worries that flooded the Monegasque's mind were put to ease. He won his home race in Monaco and has now won Ferrari's home race. Y/n and Charles were here to celebrate, and celebrating is exactly what they did. Bottles after bottles, everyone was drunk beyond their minds, Y/n especially. It was as if she could not contain the joy that filled her mind seeing Charles stand at the top of the podium. After a long night of partying, the club was slowly dying down. Most of the team members had booked a cab and left the venue; some were passed out on the couch with a content expression on their faces, and the rest were still on the dance floor.

That is where Charles found Y/n. Upon seeing the boy, Y/n pulled him closer to her, and the boy instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist to steady her movements. "I think you've celebrated more than me at this point," said Charles while looking down at Y/n with a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, of course, someone has to, Grand Prix Winner," Y/n said, smiling up and looking back at Charles. "Let's get you some water. It'll help you stay hydrated," he said as he began walking towards one of the sofas with his arms still around Y/n. "I think you've had one too many drinks-" Cutting him off, Y/n blurted out, "I like you." Slowly looking up to see Charles' face to see any sort of reaction from him, he said, "I think you should sober up now," and without saying another word, he began to walk towards the exit with a very drunk Y/n, who was now very aware of everything happening around her.

She was completely in her senses when Charles helped her get in the passenger seat or when he leaned over from across the driver's seat to help her with the seatbelt. The boy was so close to her that even after hours of partying, she could still catch the faint scent of his perfume. For the entire trip, Charles refused to look her in the eye, not when he helped her out of the car, or when he took off her heels, or even when he tucked her in the bed. Just as he was about to leave, Y/n reached out and grabbed a hold of his wrist. "Would you stay with me till I fall asleep?" She could see the hesitation in his eyes. "Please," she said, looking up at his face, and for the first time since her abrupt confession, he looked back at her to meet her eyes. Nodding slightly, Charles sat down at the foot of the bed, and true to his words, he stayed there till Y/n dozed off.

A tense conversation, you like someone else I say, "If I waited, could that maybe help?" You told me that patience won't change how you felt For me

If Y/n thought last night was worse, then she was in for a huge surprise. The morning after was one of the worst mornings for Y/n. She woke up with a splitting headache, dazed and disoriented from last nights events, until it all came rushing back to her. Her drunken confession, Charles' behavioral change towards her. Getting out of the bed she walked towards the kitchen where she saw Charles nursing a cup of coffee in his hand looking at something on his phone. Upon hearing movement, he looked up from his phone, putting it aside he kept another cup of coffee in front of her saying "I made some for you as well, I know you'll be needing it." He smiled at her before continuing, "How's the headache?" He questioned. "I've had better days," Y/n said before taking the cup of coffee and thanking the Monegasque.

"So about last night…" Charles started, and there it was, the dreadful moment Y/n was hoping to avoid. "…I had no idea you felt that way," Charles said before looking at her. "Y/n, I'm actually seeing someone…for a while now," and with those 9 words, Charles had shattered Y/n's heart into pieces. Y/n could not believe it; they were perfect; everyone could see it. So why is it that the boy she was madly in love with could not see how good they both were together? "I'm really sorry, Y/nn, but I don't feel that way about you," Charles said with a genuine look behind his eyes. In a desperate effort to hold onto this idea Y/n had created about the both of them, she said, "If I waited, would that help? Would that change things?" The hole in her heart grew bigger and bigger with each passing second that Charles didn't answer. Letting out a sigh, he said. "Y/n, even if you waited, it's not gonna change how I feel about you. I'm sorry, but I've always seen you as a great friend," Charles said, and with that gone was the future of them together; empty was the house they were supposed to move into after a few years of dating; dead was the flower garden they both would have spent hours trying to maintain; forgotten were the children they would have eventually had; lost was the life they would have shared.

So I'll stop being pretentious and loathing our friendship You taught me a lesson, that feelings are reckless It's just like the novels, side characters end up alone

It is observed that friendships that start because someone expresses a romantic interest tend to take on a different meaning once the feelings involved in the situation are gone. Empty, distant, and disregarded, that is what Y/n felt. Ever since Charles told her that he did not reciprocate her feelings, something inside Y/n died. Gone was the girl who always paid attention to Charles, who, even in a room full of people, always had one eye on him. Gone was the girl who tried to impress the boy she was in love with. Instead, she started to loathe the fragments that were left of their friendship. They no longer met up. No longer did they have their phone calls that lasted for hours on end.

True to his words, Charles was in fact seeing someone; someone he officially announced his relationship with 2 weeks after their fallout, or at least that is what Y/n likes to call that morning in Italy. Charles taught Y/n what love actually was and how beautiful the feeling can be. Charles is also the person who taught her how reckless feelings can actually be. It's messy and complicated. It's the girl not getting the guy; it's the golden boy meeting his girl next door. It's just like the novels, where the side character always ends up alone, forgotten somewhere in the background of the main character's story.

So I'll just take a footnote in your life And you could take my body Every line I would write for you But a footnote will do A footnote will do

Standing at the Ferrari garage, Y/n could feel everyone's excitement. Charles had won yet another Grand Prix. Everyone rushed out of the garage, heading towards the barrier to celebrate with him, Y/n could see Charles getting out of his car and running to where she was standing. He was just a few metres away from them when he opened his arms and started running towards them. Y/n almost thought he was coming over to hug her, but just as she was about to let her imagination get the best of her, reality came crashing down on her again. Charles leaped into the arms of his girlfriend, the same girl next door she lost him to. The girl who has a polite smile and a kind heart. The girl who he now shares a puppy with. It reminded Y/n of her place in his life; no longer was she a priority for him. She was merely a footnote in his life now; gone was the time where she would have been a chapter or few in his books, but for her, he had been the entire story; the start, the middle, and the end.

Every line she wrote, she wrote for him, but now all she can afford is a footnote in his life.

But a footnote will do. A footnote will do for her.

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goldfades · 17 days ago

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really don't mind the practice / cause your my little lady / lady, lady, love me, cause I love to lay here lazy / ce could close the curtains, pretend like there's no world outside ─── devin booker¹

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⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2.3k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you and devin spend valentine's day in this year, and it's filled with sweet moments.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | fluffy!

The scent of something sweet and buttery filled the air, seeping in through the cracked bedroom door. It was lazy and warm, curling around the sheets, luring you out of sleep before you were fully ready to open your eyes. The bed still carried the weight of last night—soft, rumpled blankets, Devin’s lingering warmth, the faintest scent of his cologne mixing with the fresh morning air.

Valentine’s Day.

Not that it needed much acknowledgment. Not between you two. There was no rush to make dinner reservations at an overpriced restaurant or scramble for grand gestures. That had never been your thing.

You stretched, slow and content, fingers skimming across the empty space beside you. It wasn’t unusual for Devin to be up before you, but it was unusual for him to be making noise this early. Kitchen noise. You could hear the faint clink of a spatula against a pan, the low murmur of music humming from the speaker—Jack Johnson, of all things.

Your lips curled at the edges.

Devin wasn’t the biggest cook. He had a handful of things he could make, and he rarely strayed from them. If he was in the kitchen, it meant one of two things: he was either really feeling himself or he was up to something. Maybe both.

Yawning, you finally peeled yourself out from under the covers, padding down the hall in your sleep shorts and one of his old shirts, socked feet barely making a sound against the floor. You leaned against the doorway, watching him for a second.

Devin stood at the stove, bare-chested except for the chain glinting at his collarbone, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His back was to you, broad shoulders relaxed, hand lazily flipping something in the pan. You caught sight of a bag of chocolate chips on the counter, a bunch of bananas beside it, and a mixing bowl still half-full of batter.

Your arms crossed over your chest as you smirked. “So, what’s all this?”

Devin didn’t startle, didn’t even turn around, just let out a low chuckle. “Damn. I was hoping to have it ready before you got up.”

“You, making breakfast? On Valentine’s Day? What’s the occasion?” You stepped forward, peering over his shoulder.

“I don’t know.” He finally turned, catching your gaze with that slow, lazy grin that always had a way of getting to you. “Figured we could just… stay in. Take it easy. No plans, no pressure. Just you, me, and some fire banana pancakes.”

You arched a brow. “You sure they’re fire?”

He scoffed. “I had a little taste test. They’re at least four-star quality.”

“Oh, four stars? So, they’re just alright?”

His lips quirked. “I’d say Michelin-worthy, but I didn’t want to gas myself up too much.”

You laughed, shaking your head. It was simple, it was easy—it was exactly the way the two of you worked.

And it was already shaping up to be the best Valentine’s Day yet.

You stepped closer, leaning over the counter to steal a glimpse at the golden pancakes he was flipping with expert ease, his focus a little more intense than you expected. He was always calm, always present, but this morning, there was something different about the way he moved. The rhythm of his actions—steady and methodical—made you pause for a second and admire him in that quiet way you hadn’t done in a while.

The smell was intoxicating—bananas caramelizing ever so slightly, the vanilla from the batter, and a subtle hint of cinnamon. Your stomach growled, and Devin’s eyes flicked up to catch the sound. He raised an eyebrow playfully.

"Did you forget to eat last night?" he teased, his grin widening.

You rolled your eyes, reaching for the bag of chocolate chips he had set out. “Can I help with anything, or are you planning to be all smug about your cooking skills?”

“Oh, I’m definitely planning to be smug,” he said, his voice almost a low hum. “But you can help by grabbing the syrup.”

You reached over to the fridge and pulled out the maple syrup, your hand brushing against the cool bottle as you returned to his side. He hadn’t taken his eyes off you, like he was watching every move you made with that sort of quiet intensity that only made you more aware of your own breath.

“I swear, every time I turn around, you look like you’ve stepped out of a magazine,” he muttered, shaking his head. “How do you do that?”

You smirked, pouring syrup into a small bowl. “I think it’s called ‘not trying.’ You should try it sometime.”

He chuckled but didn’t say anything else. His fingers brushed yours as he passed you a plate, the touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. It wasn’t an accident. Devin had a way of making every simple movement feel purposeful. He always made you feel like you were the only person in the room.

��So, what’s the verdict on the pancakes?” you asked as you slid into the seat at the island, waiting for him to place the plate in front of you. “Are they really as good as you claim?”

His smile widened, full of that quiet pride that had always drawn you to him. There was something about him—his easy confidence, the way he carried himself—that was magnetic. And in moments like this, when it was just the two of you, no one else around, it felt like time slowed down.

“Taste and see, baby,” he said, setting the plate in front of you with a flourish. “Then you can rate them.”

You picked up a fork, cutting into the fluffy stack of pancakes, the syrup pooling around the edges. As the bite hit your tongue, you couldn’t help but grin. He was right. They were definitely more than just “alright.” They were light and airy, just the right amount of sweetness, with pockets of chocolate chips melting into the batter in all the right places. You felt the rush of warmth spread through you—not just from the food but from the simple joy of it all.

“Okay, fine,” you said after swallowing, lifting your hands in mock surrender. “You’re officially a breakfast chef.”

Devin chuckled, taking a seat beside you, and dug into his own stack. The sound of the silverware clinking against the plates, the hum of the soft music playing in the background, and the faint sunlight filtering in through the kitchen window created this cozy, almost nostalgic atmosphere. It wasn’t extravagant—it didn’t need to be. But everything about it felt just right.

“You know, this is kinda perfect,” you said, leaning back in your chair. “No crowds, no fuss. Just us.”

He leaned back too, his elbow brushing against yours as he swiped another bite of pancake from his plate. “I told you. Valentine’s Day doesn’t need to be some big, expensive thing. All we need is right here.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and for a second, everything else faded out. His eyes, dark and soft, locked onto yours, and you felt the weight of his gaze as it melted into something more than just appreciation. It was affection, it was comfort, it was a shared moment. The kind of moment that didn’t need words, but felt like everything.

“I think this might be my new favorite tradition,” you said, smiling softly.

“Yeah?” His voice was low, that playful glint back in his eyes. “What’s next? Breakfast in bed every Valentine’s?”

You chuckled, lifting your syrup-drenched pancakes. “You never know. But for now, I’m just gonna enjoy this.”

The rest of breakfast passed in a comfortable silence, the two of you slipping into an easy rhythm. As you cleaned up, Devin grabbed his phone from the counter, pulling up a playlist you both liked, letting the soothing sounds of more Jack Johnson play in the background.

He wandered back into the living room, where the sunlight was just starting to pour in through the windows, casting golden hues across the couch and the coffee table. You followed him, dropping onto the couch with your head on his lap, watching as he scrolled through his phone, probably looking for the next perfect song to set the mood.

“This is nice,” you murmured, your eyes closing as you listened to the soft strumming of the guitar.

“Mm-hmm,” Devin hummed, his fingers running through your hair gently. “It’s all I need, too.”

The next few hours passed like that: easy, undemanding, filled with quiet moments and small smiles. No need for anything grand when the little things meant everything. You didn’t need roses, you didn’t need diamonds—just mornings like this. And with Devin, you knew you’d always have them.

The day continued in its gentle rhythm, unfolding like a well-loved book, its pages turning slowly, each moment a quiet reminder of how simple things could mean so much. By mid-afternoon, the two of you had settled into the kind of comfort that only time together could foster. You sat curled up in the living room, Devin’s arm around your shoulders as you both scrolled through old photos on his phone, laughing at moments you’d forgotten, reminiscing about vacations, late-night talks, the small victories.

It was soft. It was quiet.

And then, as the sun dipped a little lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the room, there was a soft knock at the door. It wasn’t unusual for deliveries to show up, but you couldn’t help the way your heart gave a little skip when Devin stood up to answer it.

He opened the door, his voice low and warm as he greeted the delivery driver. You could hear him talking for a moment before the door shut again, and Devin turned back around, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Close your eyes,” he said softly, his hands sliding behind your head to gently guide you upright.

You blinked at him, slightly confused but willing. “What’s this?”

“Just trust me.” He smirked, one of those smiles that was all mystery and sweetness, and you couldn’t say no.

With a slight chuckle, you closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his presence as he moved around you. You heard a soft rustling, followed by the faintest thud as something was set down in front of you. His fingers brushed your cheek, and you felt the cool air shift as he stepped back, the space between you opening up just enough to feel that subtle tension that always hung in the air when he was being secretive.

“Okay. Open.”

You opened your eyes, and for a second, everything else disappeared.

A stunning bouquet of flowers sat in front of you. But it wasn’t just any bouquet. The flowers were a mix of your favorites: peonies, soft pink roses, delicate lilies, and a few pops of bright purple irises scattered throughout. The colors were soft, romantic, and perfect in their disarray. It was as though someone had handpicked each one just for you, like it was meant to be.

You gasped softly, your fingers instinctively reaching out to touch them, feeling the smooth petals, inhaling their sweet fragrance. But what took your breath away more than the flowers themselves was the small envelope attached to the bouquet. It was simple, folded neatly, and held shut with a wax seal.

Devin stepped closer, his eyes soft, watching you as you slowly reached for the note.

“I figured I’d go a little traditional on you,” he said, his voice almost a whisper now, like he was giving you a space to take it all in. “But I think you deserve more than just a bouquet.”

With the note in your hands, you carefully unfolded it. The words were neat, careful, a little hesitant, but unmistakably real.

To my love,

Every day with you is a gift I never take for granted. You make everything easier, better, brighter, just by being you. I know I’m not the best at showing it sometimes, but I want you to know I appreciate every little thing you do for me, every moment you share with me. I’m lucky, and I’ll never forget that. So, today—just like every day—I’m thankful for you.

With all my heart,

A lump formed in your throat as you read the last line, the words carrying the weight of everything he’d never said in front of a camera or in front of anyone else. Just for you.

You looked up at him, eyes wide, trying to hold back the emotions that threatened to spill over.

“That was… perfect,” you whispered, and he stepped forward, taking the note from your hand with a smile that was full of softness.

“Yeah? You’re welcome,” he murmured, reaching for your hand. The warmth of his palm engulfed yours, grounding you in that simple, quiet space between the two of you.

The rest of the evening unfolded just as it began—quiet, calm, but filled with an overwhelming sense of warmth. You spent the rest of the night tucked into his side, watching a movie you both already knew by heart, with his hand softly tracing lazy patterns along your arm, a gesture that said more than any grand words ever could.

When it was time for bed, you didn’t rush it. You didn’t rush anything. You stayed tangled up in each other’s warmth, content to just exist in the soft bubble of your shared space.

The note, the flowers—they were beautiful, but it was the way he made you feel, in the soft quiet moments, that really made the day unforgettable. Because, in the end, it wasn’t about the big gestures or the grand displays. It was the small, simple things that made you feel loved.

And, with Devin, those moments felt infinite.

#devin booker #devin booker x reader #devin booker imagine #devin booker fic

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professorscrooge · 4 months ago

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Sleeping Soldiers AU Draft - circa August '23

Feel amidst continuing to necro-post on this AU, I should probably actually post the draft of my attempt at turning this into a fic, bit more than a year ago. Ran out of steam, as I tend to, and it's a bit rough (also don't know if tumblr has a character limit, but fair warning, this is ~3k). Diverged from where ideas on this ended up going.

References to the original inspiration(s) can be found on posts here and here, and I will emphasise credit @phoenixyfriend, @epicmusic42 and @graylinesspam whose work I have been butting in on (and I think this may rip off some of their wordings). Leans largely into bits and pieces of the Legends timeline, but only through vague references as that's a whole monolith of a thing to try and understand. --

Coruscant is a city of metal and glass; the planet that once was is buried beneath eons of sharp edges growing out ever further. As the centre of the Galactic Republic, it is demanded to be continuously modern (at least on the surface), with a slick and shining outer coating. Its noises are of technology; the heavy thrum of electricity is the heartbeat of the city, speeders and aircraft fill the air with their droning, and there are an abundance of holoscreens to display the inauguration of the new Chancellor of the Galactic Republic.

The Jedi Temple is perhaps the one exception: its tranquillity is unmatched on Coruscant, and its construction is old and solid. All the same, when the silence within the Temple was broken by noise, its nature was unnerving in its irregularity; not the shattering of glass or creaking of metal, not the whine of engines, not an explosion or a turbolaser or any such thing, it is a noise unheard on Coruscant for Millenia.

It is a grinding, of stone upon stone, echoing up from its very deepest recesses.

–

Circa 500 BBY

The Jedi Temple is an ancient relic of bygone times; old enough, that the only records that might say how old are held within its own walls (or rather, were, given the unfortunate number of sackings and assaults in its history had frequently damaged the famous archives). Its grand size is a symbol of strength against the dark, but also something of an impracticality in certain times. Its lower reaches are vast, stretching all the way down to the forgotten mountains of Coruscant; a surface where sunlight hasn’t shined in millennia. Construction kept reaching upwards for the longest time, keeping up with the rising levels of the city-planet as its foundations became buried under smog and filth, forgotten.

In the wake of wars’ end, many lower levels were sealed away; who needed such vast halls, impromptu barracks and storage, when the Jedi no longer served as military leaders? There was no need to house so many people as to require them, and it was more effort to clean and maintain them than necessary for a monk order of a few thousand. After all, this was a Golden Age, with the Sith defeated, and a time of the High Republic.

Age lent itself to secrets, and with time, many of those secrets were lost with their keepers.

The newly minted Chancellor paused only briefly in taking his oath of office. Most present simply chalked it up to the weight of the vows involved being taken seriously. In truth, the hidden Darth Sidious that lurked under the unassuming garb of Sheev Palpatine had shivered at a tremor in the Force; local and distinctly, searingly Light in its origin, piercing the veil of darkness he and his master had woven over the planet for but a moment. Quickly, he steeled himself and resumed his words; it would not do to falter or drop his mask at this stage. And after all, what could stop The Great Plan now? Sidious had a thousand years of his Order’s planning behind his back. It wasn’t like the Jedi could think on such a grand scale.

–

Circa 1000 BBY

The history of the Jedi Temple site may as well be a timeline of the Republic itself. With the ever-recurrent war that was fought over its location, and how often Coruscant changed hands, it wasn’t just built upon, but rebuilt, several times. The Grand Ziggurat of the High Republic era was built over the ashes and ruins of the Temple before it, reaching to the sky not far from where the newly built Senate District would form the seat of the Galaxy. A symbol of strength to a unified Galaxy that had defeated the evil of the Sith, once and for all.

The Jedi Council scrambled to action, of course (in as dignified manner as they could). Even with their senses long-blinded by the veil that consistently hampered their sight, there was no missing the stirring beneath their feet.

“Awoken, something has,” Master Yoda was heard to declare.

–

Circa 3653 BBY

The Soldiers’ Hall, as it came to be known, was a real anomaly. It was unearthed in the wake of the Treaty of Coruscant, and the Great Sacking of the Jedi Temple. The respite granted by the armistice with Sith Forces withdrawing from the world was a balm to the Coruscanti people, yes, but the Jedi had returned to a Temple filled with death and desecration. Their holiest relics had been plundered, and the numbers of dead were horrific; a toll only growing as they uncovered the deadly traps spiteful Sith had left behind to further ruin them. It was a painful experience for the survivors, not helped by the lack of justice and repercussions the treaty afforded them.

With their returned forces in peacetime, however, it was decided to fully survey the Temple to account for all possible traps. The survey unearthed many lower chambers forgotten for centuries, which would soon be repurposed as bunkers for military assets. Naturally, the opportunity was also taken to strengthen ancient foundations with modern materials, which came with looking over the foundations of the ancient Temple grounds atop a mountain of Coruscant, and the Dark Shrine hidden there. It was known to the High Council alone that the old Temple had been built atop a Dark Vergence in the Force in an attempt to cleanse it, and a handful of masters yet survived to share that information to a select few. What surprised them more was the discovery of older ruins beneath the Shrine, built into the mountain itself, and seemingly dating to before the Alsakan conflicts, perhaps even the Jedi Order itself (though few dare voice this thought). The shift from precision, machine-poured duracrete that has been in use for millennia, to the more rough, hand-hewn stone is a sight that excites the archaeologically inclined allowed to see it.

Most of the tunnels are collapsed, but slowly, over several years of uneasy peace, a path is unearthed to a large atrium, central beneath the Dark Side Nexus. The discovery is shocking to those who uncover it; they’d gone from archiving very faded murals (amidst admonishment that such pre-Jedi religious teachings are not worth great regard), to cracking the door open to a great chamber filled with an army of statues. A thousand men – clearly soldiers – each expertly carved with incredible detail, each set of armour uniquely battle scarred and hand painted, each posed differently, and every single one perfectly preserved in defiance of their ancient surroundings. The warriors sat, or lay, or kneeled, in great concentric circles, facing inwards to a central figure, the only one not wearing armour; a Togruta woman, dressed simply, and with lightsabers resting at her hips. Where the soldiers were wrought from a pale white stone, she was crafted in warm terracotta in a relaxed pose, face bowed in conference with the Force. It was almost as if she were made of flesh.

Despite the gathering of Masters who quickly investigated the room, none could quite manage to lay a hand upon her. The sense of foreboding was just too strong. Every gaze in the room was pointed towards her; an even thousand visors of solid stone, focused on this one woman, every one so lifelike as to be uncanny. In-fact, sometimes, in the corner of the Jedi’s eyes, it was almost like they moved; a chest rising and falling with breath, tiny fluctuations in the Force that evaded the senses, or flickers of dreams. Almost as if they were waiting for something.

The Council ordered the chamber sealed; what markings upon the soldiers that could be identified were Mandalorian in origin, so clearly this was some work of those great adversaries and their common allies, the Sith. That those forces combined had so recently sacked their home likely aided this decision. Knowledge and warnings were recorded within the Council’s private library only, and would be lost some centuries hence by the passing of those who saw the sight and another sacking of the upper Temple.

Beneath them all, the feared warriors continued to sleep.

The sounds of shattering stone echoed within the long-forgotten chamber, even as dust filled the air from the broken remains. This noise was swiftly drowned out by a thousand throats all drawing breath at once.

–

Circa 5000 BBY

Recapturing Coruscant was not the final victory of what came to be called the Great Hyperspace Wars, but it was perhaps the most important, given that all that followed became much easier with forces scattering. However, there was an interesting discovery made upon their landing; an empty Shrine, where once the Sacred Spire peak of Mount Satorl had stood.

The destruction of the Sacred Spire had been one of the opening gambits of the conflict, so this was expected. The Jedi amongst the Republic Forces were most dismayed that the legendary Vergence in the Force that had rested there had been twisted into a Dark nexus, but this too had been rumoured by spies and propaganda. No, what was surprising was the lack of occupants, particularly Sith acolytes. This was a powerful nexus in the Dark Side, and a clear site of investment to build the new Shrine, but there was nobody present; just the signs of conflict that predated Republic arrival to the planet.

Eventual interrogation of Sith Forces revealed rumours of a ‘curse’ upon the site; no force had managed to occupy the site for long, somehow always turning up dead. Construction of the Shrine had taken several years, and a great many slow attempts, always stymied by poor fortune.

The Jedi took this as a sign that the Force itself resisted the corruptive attempts for as long as possible, and when granted a boon for their aid in the war, chose to claim the land for themselves. There, they built a new Temple, in the hope that the presence of many Jedi may once again cleanse this place that had long been sacred to a great many religious and Force-sensitive sects throughout the Galaxy. The Jedi Order would build their new headquarters at the heart of the Republic and therefore claim the site instead of any other religion having access.

Of course, throughout construction, there was plenty of investigation of the ruins being built over (padawans got bored hanging around and waiting, naturally, and the Galaxy’s archaeologists were most invested in seeing how this location had suffered under Sith rule). Of particular note is a surviving chamber of the old Sacred Spire that is unearthed; a grand chamber filled with statues. Sadly, no records from prior to the Sith occupation persist, but a great many experts descend on the room to catalogue what they can of the astoundingly beautiful find that is far more interesting than dusty old clay vessels. The General’s Legion, they are quickly dubbed, given the militaristic bent.

They bring in first art experts, then body language experts, even a scholar on Mandalorian culture once some symbols are defined. Most of the markings they find mean nothing, however; while Mandalorian symbols are identified a few dozen times, including Jaig Eyes on one of the more prominent soldiers directly facing The General, there’s no real commonality with any clan, or any real consistency. Many more besides are marked with nonsense; a loose word or number in some language, even some unrecognised languages that cause head scratching. The holstered blasters cause them to bring in antique weapons dealers to unsuccessfully identify them, causing yet more headaches at the clear mass-manufacturing on display, since most the soldiers bear the same weapons, but they are entirely unfamiliar. Artists are baffled at how perfectly detailed and well-preserved the figures are; the level of work on display would have taken hundreds of artists thousands of hours, but the style implies a singular sculptor. The historians flail wildly at whether these soldiers throw all the old theories about the Taung originating Mandalorian culture into doubt.

The only experts who could agree upon something were those who attempted to psychoanalyse the figures; the way the men were arranged was with deference for the General, and those closest to her were the officers with the most decoration and adornment (and battle scars), while those nearest the edge were the lowest ranks. Originally, they thought the much smaller central figure was being threatened by the soldiers, but she sat in such a relaxed pose of confidence it seemed more clearly a commander’s position.

Still, as time goes on, their observations are recorded and stored in the new Jedi library, and a towering new Temple is built over the ruins. Gradually, this fills with masters, knights and younglings looking forward to a new era of peace and prosperity. The past is not forgotten, but it is not the focus of an Order trying to rebuild after centuries of conflict. And so, the statues sit in their atrium, still and silent. Masters study them for decades, photos and essays are included in the new archives; they are a fascination, a mysterious piece of history.

But, time passes, and slowly the fascination fades. The wider galaxy captures attention, the Regions are expanding in a new era of colonisation and there is great need for Jedi aid. Only those particularly intrigued by art and archaeology look through the old archives. The statues become more of a ghost story.

Padawans sometimes gossip about them over latemeal. They dare each other to sneak down to the lower levels, and walk between the rows upon rows of sleeping soldiers. The truly brave (or reckless) of the classes make the journey, past the point where the air lifts reach, down long staircases and through the dusty thick air. Lightsabers raised high over their heads, they tiptoe between the first few rows, twisting wildly at jumping shadows cast over the room. Some stare petrified into the visors of the men, convinced that if you peer close enough, you can see eyes peering back at you.

Very, very few brave padawans make it all the way to The General – one or two per generation – but those that do, swear they hear her breathing.

Over the years, those children grow into knights, into masters and grandmasters, and then they pass into the Force. Still, the tradition survives, for a time, until one day, when the new Temple has become old and known many Councils, the chamber passes from memory, and is lost for many centuries to come.

But still, the soldiers look to their General for orders.

The first breath is the hardest.

Going out, the air feels abrasive and dust-filled, and her throat is drier than a desert. Then, she must try and breath in, and it’s an effort to fill lungs that have sat still for so very, very long. She coughs once, and then struggles through it, going through the motions a few times as she slowly registers her montrals ringing from the similar sounds about her.

Finally, she looks up, eyes open and awake.

“Orders, sir?” Rex asks.

“Form up.”

–

Circa ??? BBY

The Mountains were a safe place. A sacred place, to many. So when war came to Coruscant, it was to the mountains people fled.

The One-Thousand-And-One, a group of warriors who spoke no language anyone understood, but under whose strength, Coruscant stood against Alsakan [– Tion instead?]. They could never leave the Mountain, though.

—

And that’s all I managed to write out, couldn’t quite figure a) what I wanted their arrival period to be like/what they did there, and b) how I wanted the present-time to work out (likely marching on the Senate building and demanding Sidious’ surrender). Ended up with some Jedi-negative things in there that I'm not entirely sure where they came from (probably something emerging from my frustrations with Christianisation on mythology). May have been a bit uncharitable.

Much as I kinda like the framing of current day swapping back and forth with older and older eras, I don't think I'm coming back to this version - I think I prefer the more recent ideas related to the chamber's unveiling in more modern eras, and drama resulting therefrom.

#star wars #fanfiction #fic ideas #fic draft #unfinished #wip #work in progress #not originally my idea #ahsoka tano #501st legion #time travel #au #time travel au #Sleeping Soldiers AU #star wars legends #I'm uncertain of etiquette #Is this a faux pas?#this is still living rent-free in my brain

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whencyclopedia · 1 month ago

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Oheka Castle

Oheka Castle, built by the industrialist Otto Herman Kahn (l. 1867-1934), is one of the best-known luxury hotels of Long Island, NY, USA today. In its time as a private residence, it was the site of the kind of lavish parties which inspired the F. Scott Fitzgerald novel The Great Gatsby and continues to offer that same experience.

You step into the immense expanse of the foyer and there's the Grand Staircase ahead, wrought iron railings gracefully curving up from the stone landing on which fresh flowers rest on a marble altar. Your footsteps echo loudly across the stone floor and again up the steps to the second floor where a long carpet-runner muffles them as you pass by paintings of various sizes on the walls and statuary on pedestals, all quietly bathed in soft golden light.

Halfway down the hall, you open the door on your left and walk into a room ornately decorated with a silk embroidered couch beneath a gilt-edged mirror, flowers in a vase on a marble pedestal. Sunlight streams in through the window on the far wall and you move past the receiving vestibule with the couch to the bedroom area, draw back the drapes, and look down upon the manicured gardens and fountains. Off beyond the gardens you see Long Island Sound, and, in the silence, you can hear the deep booming of the ship’s engines and the long, low bellow of a tug's horn.

If you feel yourself a character in The Great Gatsby, well, you are not far off. Fitzgerald's novel is set on the so-called Gold Coast of America in the 1920s - the area of Long Island, NY where the wealthy elite built their summer homes between c. 1900 and 1920. Many of the most famous names - Vanderbilt, Phipps, Woolworth - had grand estates here and some have been preserved and are open to the public for tours. The one you have walked into is different from the rest in a number of ways, however, and, most notably, you can stay there. You are in Oheka Castle, formerly the home of investment banker and philanthropist Otto Herman Kahn which, today, is a luxury hotel in Huntington.

Time Travel to the 1920s

Although famously known as a "castle" the building is actually an early 20th-century French-style Chateau designed by the famous Olmstead Brothers Firm (which included Frederic Law Olmstead, the architect who designed New York City's Central Park) who also planned the intricate lawns and gardens. Originally an estate of 433 acres, the site is now comprised of only 23, most of it a golf course, though the French gardens and much of the statuary of the original estate remains.

A weekend at Oheka Castle is time travel back to the 1920s. The owner, Gary Melius, has carefully renovated and preserved the building to reflect the interests and tastes of the original owner. Vintage artwork hangs on the walls and one passes by statues and busts of Socrates, Plato, Epictetus, and Epicurus in the second-floor hallway. Walking down the winding back staircase from the second floor to the bar you feel like Gatsby about to throw another of his famous parties. The wood-paneled library, shelves lined with volumes, looks out through floor-to-ceiling French doors onto the gardens and the lawn and you cannot shake the feeling that Hemingway or Gertrude Stein or T.S. Eliot could stroll into the room any moment.

We were there for a wedding for which we would be staying the weekend and arrived on a Friday. Guests are encouraged to enter through the main gate though one can also access the grounds through a back road. A gatekeeper radios one's arrival and opens the gates. The drive up to the parking lot is impressive enough, passing manicured hedges, statues, carefully cultivated ivy on the archway, but once you pull in to the spacious parking lot, the impression of the hotel is stunning. Oheka is a commanding presence and even before you set foot inside you understand you are experiencing something exceptional.

On this trip, as on most, my wife Betsy and daughter Emily were along, and we all experienced the same sensation of stepping back in time as soon as the high wooden front doors were opened for us and we set foot in the foyer. The lighting from an opulent chandelier high overhead and wall sconces illuminates the grand hall in a soft blush of gold as from candles or oil lamps.

After checking in at the small office just inside the door, we were directed to our room on the second floor and took the ancient elevator up. It should be kept in mind that one is staying in a vintage hotel and the elevator will not operate at maximum 21st-century speed. Remember, you have stepped back in time; everything moved a little more slowly in the 1920s. The elevator opened on the long hallway decorated with artwork and sculpture under soft lighting, noted above.

Our room, previously described, was spacious with bathroom en suite complete with a vintage claw-foot tub and modern shower. There is a television and telephone in the room, neither of which we used, and WIFI is available and password-protected for guests. Modern amenities are never our priority when travelling, however, as we always opt for the time-travel experience in full when we can. Gazing out the window of our room down at the intricate gardens, fountains, and statues under the high blue canopy of a June sky, I thought of the original owner and the people of the past who had stood where I was standing.

#History #1920s #1947 #America #WHE #[#]

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labuenosairesfrancaise · 8 months ago

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Coleshill House

Hi guys!!

I'm sharing Coleshill House. This is the 16th building for my English Collection.

I decorated most of the house, but accompanied the floor plan for reference.

History of the house: Coleshill House was a country house in England, near the village of Coleshill, in the Vale of White Horse. Historically, the house was in Berkshire but since boundary changes in 1974 its site is in Oxfordshire.

The building may have been designed by Inigo Jones, and built by Sir Roger Pratt around 1660. Nikolaus Pevsner described it as "the best Jonesian mid house in England". It was gutted by fire in 1952 and demolished in 1958. The Coleshill Estate is now owned by the National Trust.

Coleshill House was a double-pile building, influenced by Jones's Queens House in Greenwich, and combining Italian, French, Dutch and English architectural ideas. It measured approximately 120 by 60 feet (37 m × 18 m), with two main floors of nine bays, above a rusticated basement, and an attic with seven prominent dormer windows and four tall chimney-stacks on each side of the hipped roof. The roof was topped by a flat deck surrounded by a balustrade with a central belvedere cupola. The main floors had equal heights, unlike the Palladian emphasis on the piano nobile.

The two main façades were very similar, with external steps leading up to a central entrance. The pediment above the door at the main front was topped by a rounded segmental pediment, and that to the garden at the rear with a triangular pediment. The dormers alternated rounded and triangular pediments. The entrance door from the main front led to the entrance hall, and the entrance from the rear led to the salon, with the hall and salon taking up the central third of the house. From the hall, a grand staircase with flights to either side climbed to a first-floor landing leading to the dining room above the salon; central corridors on each floor provided access to the other rooms. Several rooms were decorated with elaborate plaster ceilings. The services on the basement floor included an early example of a servants' hall, so the servants could eat away from the great hall.

For more info: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coleshill_House

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This house fits a 40x30 lot.

Hope you like it.

You will need the usual CC I use:

all Felixandre cc

all The Jim

SYB

Anachrosims

Regal Sims

King Falcon railing

The Golden Sanctuary

Cliffou

Dndr recolors

Harrie cc

Tuds

Lili's palace cc

Please enjoy, comment if you like it and share pictures with me if you use my creations!

Free to download!

#sims 4 architecture #sims 4 build #sims4 #sims 4 screenshots #sims4building #sims4play #sims 4 historical #sims4palace #sims 4 royalty #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 simblr #ts4 legacy #ts4 screenshots #the sims4 #sims 4

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polo-drone-073 · 2 months ago

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Oh, oh, oh

This Golden Army Christmas will be remembered.

But will there continue to be a joint Christmas Party with Gold Bros. and Polo Drones (more correctly one should say Polo Drone Unit, or short PDU) in the future? Or will there be strict instructions beforehand about what is allowed and what is not allowed during the party?

What happened?

First of all, it was a Christmas Party, like every year. Everyone was happy to be able to celebrate together, the PDUs even had their pleasure unit activated for the entire evening, including permission to... (there's no need to go into too much detail).

The Christmas Party went great, the Christmas Dinner was very delicious. And the drinks were intoxicating, perhaps too intoxicating.

The later the evening, the merrier or more intoxicated the members of the Golden Army were. And now the intoxication led to something that often happens at the end of a football game but shouldn't happen between Gold Bros. and PDUs. Or was it the PDU's secret plan?

What happened was that jerseys were swapped. Okay, the Golden Jersey is very intoxicating, but it has a completely different effect on the Polo Drones, who were usually members of the Golden Team before.

But the shiny black latex polo shirt of the PDUs has completely different powers. Powers that the PDUs must definitely be aware of, but not on this evening.

“What kind of magic?” the reader who has little knowledge of the Polo Drones will ask himself. The magic lies in the fact that it releases powers that support the drones in their daily work, but for a human or Gold Bros it irrevocably opens the door to a new world. Entering this world behind it - to stay with the image - is mandatory for the person who opened the door.

As a result, the unplanned jersey led to an increase in the Hive.

This photo was taken after the Grand Malheur.

Why are there so few PUDs to be seen - recognizable by their shiny black latex pants? Well, the magic of the polo shirt is just the first step. More follow, which are also very labor-intensive for the drones. Consequently, most of them are missing from this picture.

You can also see how cocky the people were at this party by looking at the 4 Gold Bros balancing on the narrow balustrade.

Some of the Gold Bros probably noticed what was going on just in time and are still standing there with their upper bodies bare.

The youth organization's Christmas Party also seemed to be in good spirits but not quite as lively.

Two comments:

1. The Gold Bros who have now become PDUs are not lost. On the one hand, they will perform useful tasks as drones and on the other hand, they can temporarily return to their gold status on special occasions. They usually play even better than before because with drones, discipline, focus and control (not just through the hive but also self-control) are characteristics that are trained very intensively.

2. Actually, like every year, the Tumblr Gazette was planning a large, detailed and heavily illustrated report on the Christmas Party of the Golden Army, which has to be called one of the most honorable brotherhoods today.

Unfortunately, all of the image agencies represented on site, such as ChatGPT, Leonardo and Copilot, provided the shocking images and our reporter on site could do nothing other than confirm what is described above.

---- So if you are interested in this great brotherhood, then contact our recruiters @brodygold, @goldenherc9, or @polo-drone-001. Please understand that they are now on Christmas vacation. But we guarantee that they will get in touch with you asap. Something else about the Gold Bros. What used to be a pure football team has developed into a (virtual) sports club. Other sports have also been established and are playing successfully in the respective leagues. You can ask the recruiters which departments there are.

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blue2jay · 2 months ago

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“A Wedding in the Forest”

🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷

Summary: Time for the wedding!”

🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷

The day of your wedding was everything you had dreamed of and more. The forest was alive with the soft glow of the morning sun, its golden rays filtering through the tall trees and casting intricate patterns on the moss-covered ground. The air carried the crisp, refreshing scent of nature, mingled with the faint hum of excitement from family and friends gathered for your special day.

This wasn’t a grand ballroom affair, nor a spectacle meant to dazzle strangers—it was an intimate, heartfelt celebration in the very setting where you felt most at peace. The forest mirrored your love for Leon: natural, steadfast, and enduring.

Getting Ready

Inside the cozy bridal suite, the atmosphere buzzed with activity. The warm scent of fresh flowers mingled with the tang of hairspray, and the wooden walls echoed with laughter and chatter. Your bridesmaids flitted around, helping with the final touches, while your grandmother stood by, a steadying presence in the joyful chaos.

Your dress hung near the window, glowing in the morning light. It was everything you’d envisioned: a flowing, ethereal gown with a sweetheart neckline and delicate lace sleeves that rested gently off your shoulders. A soft shimmer was woven into the fabric, as if it had been kissed by starlight, and the train trailed gracefully, perfect for a forest wedding.

Your grandmother adjusted your veil, her hands trembling slightly but steady enough. “You look like a dream, sweetheart,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you, Grandma,” you whispered, tears welling in your eyes.

Nearby, your mother stood with an awkward smile. “You look beautiful, Y/N,” she said, her tone polite but distant.

You returned her smile with a polite one of your own. “Thanks, Mom.”

Melissa, however, was less reserved. “It’s… nice,” she said, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. “But don’t you think it’s a bit… understated? I mean, I guess it fits the whole ‘woodland’ theme.”

You turned to her with a sharp, practiced smile. “It’s exactly what I wanted, Melissa. Simple, timeless, and meaningful. But I’m sure your chandelier-filled ballroom was very you.”

Your grandmother chuckled under her breath as Melissa huffed and turned away.

Meanwhile, Zeus, your loyal German Shepherd, sat patiently by your side. His sleek black coat gleamed in the sunlight, and the small bowtie on his collar added a touch of charm. He wagged his tail every time someone looked his way, as if he understood the significance of the day.

The Drama with Dad

As the time to walk down the aisle approached, a small moment of tension arose with your father. He had assumed he’d be walking you alone, but you had planned otherwise.

“Both of us?” he asked, his voice tinged with disappointment.

“Yes,” you replied firmly. “I want you and Grandpa to walk me down the aisle. You’ve both been such important parts of my life—it feels right to have you both by my side.”

Your father hesitated, his expression softening before he sighed and kissed your cheek. “If that’s what you want, sweetheart, then that’s what we’ll do.”

Your mother frowned slightly but said nothing, clearly unwilling to stir the pot. Your grandfather, however, had been overjoyed when you told him earlier. “It would be my honor, kiddo,” he had said with a proud grin.

The Ceremony

The ceremony site was breathtaking. Rows of wooden chairs were arranged in a semi-circle, facing an altar crafted from intertwined branches adorned with white roses and eucalyptus. The gentle sound of a nearby stream and the chirping of birds created a serene, magical ambiance.

Zeus walked down the aisle proudly alongside the flower girl, your cousin’s young daughter, who tossed petals with meticulous concentration. Zeus’s confident stride and wagging tail earned delighted murmurs from the guests.

When it was your turn, the world seemed to hold its breath. Arm-in-arm with your father and grandfather, you walked onto the petal-strewn path. The delicate lace of your dress trailed behind you like a dream, and your eyes locked onto Leon.

He stood at the altar, resplendent in a tailored black suit that highlighted his broad shoulders and commanding presence. His blue eyes softened the moment they met yours, filled with love and awe.

As you reached him, your grandfather placed your hand in Leon’s and whispered, “Take good care of her.”

Leon’s voice was steady. “I will,” he promised.

Your father gave Leon a firm nod, his grip on your hand lingering for just a moment. “Do what I couldn’t,” he said quietly before stepping back.

The vows were deeply personal. Leon’s voice, though steady, carried the weight of his emotion.

“Y/N, you’re my compass, my strength, and my greatest joy. I promise to love you fiercely, stand by your side in every storm, and cherish you every day of my life.”

Your own vows brought tears to Leon’s eyes, and the sincerity in his gaze filled your heart with warmth.

The Unexpected Guest

Just as the officiant was about to pronounce you husband and wife, Zeus barked, breaking the serene moment. Everyone turned to see a scruffy stray dog cautiously approaching the clearing.

The dog, thin and timid, hesitated at the edge of the crowd. Without missing a beat, you knelt down and extended your hand. “It’s okay, sweetie,” you said softly.

The dog sniffed your hand, then leaned into your touch, its tail wagging hesitantly.

Melissa muttered in disgust, “It’s just a stray. Why is she paying attention to it? She’s going to ruin her dress.”

One of your cousins, clearly unimpressed, gave her a nudge. “Shut up, Melissa.”

Leon chuckled warmly. “Even on her wedding day, she finds time to rescue someone.”

The officiant smiled. “It seems we have an extra witness to this union. By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Leon, you may kiss your bride.”

Leon pulled you close, his kiss soft but full of promise. The guests cheered, Zeus barked happily, and the stray—now officially named Lucky—wagged her tail as though she belonged.

The Reception and the Perfect Ending

The reception was magical. String lights twinkled between the trees, and rustic tables adorned with wildflower centerpieces gave the clearing a romantic glow.

Melissa, of course, couldn’t resist. “It’s… cute,” she said, her tone condescending.

“Thanks, Melissa,” you replied, your voice sweet but firm. “I’ll take ‘unique and meaningful’ over ‘over-the-top’ any day.”

Your grandmother chimed in. “And let’s be honest, Melissa—nobody’s going to remember a crystal chandelier as fondly as they’ll remember this night.”

As the evening wound down, Leon surprised you with a car packed for a trip and plane tickets to Greece.

Tears filled your eyes. “You’re incredible,” you whispered.

“And you’re mine,” he replied, pulling you into a deep kiss under the stars.

With Zeus and Lucky happily nestled in the backseat, the two of you drove off into the night, ready to begin your forever together.

#leon kennedy #resident evil #leon scott kennedy #leonkennedy #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader

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paganimagevault · 8 months ago

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Statue of The Republic by Daniel Chester French 1893. Going to make this my '4th of July post', happy 4th all! Sources and more images on my blog, link at bottom.

The Republic statue was created for the Chicago World Fair of 1893 and was known by a variety of names: The Golden Lady, The Republic, Goddess of the Republic, and Statue of Liberty. The fair lasted from May 1st-October 30th. About 50 different countries participated in the fair and 18 erected their own buildings at the site. The site was known as the "White City" for its predominant white Greco-Roman style buildings. It also featured the first ferris wheel, created by George Washington Gale Ferris Jr. for the event.

After the fair closed the small city was destroyed in 3 fires, but the Goddess statue survived all of them:

"On January 8, 1894, the first great post-Fair fire consumed much of the east end of the Court of Honor. French’s Statue of the Republic stood “in the midst of it all like a gigantic silhouette, with uplifted arms as if appealing for help,” wrote the Chicago Tribune (Jan. 9, 1894). She held her liberty cap defiantly among clouds of black smoke as fierce flames danced around her for more than an hour. While the heat from this “Peristyle Fire” was intense enough to melt the ice on the Grand Basin, it barely tarnished the golden statue. By morning, the conflagration had completely destroyed the Peristyle, Casino, and Music Hall and damaged parts of the Manufactures and Liberal Arts Building. Had the firemen not saved it from the flames, the Republic likely would have burned down that night, too. The next morning, the majestic golden goddess of the Fair looked as brilliant as ever, “except for a blistered right arm and a black spot over her heart,” noted the Chicago Herald." (from worldsfairchicago1893 website)

"When arsonists set a fire on February 14, 1894, the Republic watched the blaze destroy much of the South Colonnade between Agricultural Hall and Machinery Hall. She faced yet another and much bigger scene of horrific destruction on July 5, 1894, as the western end of the Court of Honor burned in another arsonous fire. Seven buildings—Terminal Station, the Administration Building, Mines and Mining Building, Electrical Building, Manufactures and Liberal Arts Building, Agricultural Building, and Machinery Hall—succumbed to the inferno. The next morning, a single serene statue towered above a field of blackened ruins of twisted iron framework." (from worldsfairchicago1893)

"...the Chicago Inter Ocean also recognized that, with the surrounding buildings of the White City gone, the Republic now stood to better advantage: “Particularly was this so when last winter the golden figure towered above an unbroken field of snow. On the night of the last fire the flames seemed to separate and pass by on either side, and when the sun rose the next morning there seemed nothing left untouched but the golden woman of the lagoon.” (from worldsfairchicago1893)

“With only the sky for a background,” observed the Washington (DC) Evening Star, the statue “shows it proportions and lines to better effect now than before.” (from worldsfairchicago1893)

Redesign plans for the area to be turned into a park by Olmsted, Olmsted & Eliot initially included the statue at its current location but later omitted it from the plans. Minimal efforts were made to repair the parts of the statue that had been damaged and the city decided, in secret, to destroy it:

"While the South Park board had spent around $250,000 making improvements to Jackson Park, focused mostly on the northern end near the museum, they had devoted a mere $400 for repairing staff and repainting the Republic. This despite a claim by J. F. Foster, General Superintendent and Engineer for the South Park Commission, that “every effort had been made to preserve the statue.” On Thursday, August 27, Captain Kelly of the South Park Police placed the orders to burn the Republic the next morning, and Capt. Shippy of the Woodlawn police notified the fire companies in the district that a blaze would be set in Jackson Park at dawn. When taking this decisive action at their meeting on August 12, the South Park board chose to keep the execution a secret. They delegated the task of destroying the statue to mechanical engineer and Assistant Park Superintendent A. H. Wilder, who chose fire as his tool. The Commission deemed burning the statue at night too hazardous because it would attract too many people, and a proposal for a public ceremony and celebration also was dismissed. They thought it best to raze the Republic—in secret—at daybreak. Her executioners slipped away quietly as crowds arrived on the scene, curious about the smoke rising over the park." (from worldsfairchicago1893)

#american history #chicago #us history #statues #sculptures #history #art #sculpture #museums #4th of july #united states

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gaurcity2022 · 8 months ago

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Fusion Ufairia is a commercial project with retail shops and commercial shops within Noida Extension.

#Fusion Ufairia #Ajnara Homes Site Plan #Nimbus The Palm Village Site Plan #Ashrai Golden Grande

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cherry-jamm · 2 years ago

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Explorer’s Honor

・❥・An explorer accidentally stumbles into a not so abandoned castle and meets the lady of the home

・❥・word count: 1.5k

・❥・warnings: mentions of sex, reader is written as not living in Europe, reader is not male aligned/men dni, not beta read (😭)

・❥・@aquavenus58 thank you SO MUCH for requesting!!! I was on a vacation and didn’t check tumblr so this is pretty late. Hope you like it 💕

As an explorer you traveled vast horizons in the name of adventure. Currently you were spending two months in Europe. You had expertly planned every village, town, and castle you would pass through. Except for one.

You didn’t even intend on staying in Romania long, but after your cab abandoned you on the side of a slick and snowy road claiming he wouldn’t drive you any further, you really had no choice. It seemed as if you were dumped in the middle of a ghost town. Broken down houses and boarded up windows and doors littered the town. But one thing stood out. A beautiful castle overlooked the town, one that you hadn’t seen on any of your exploration sites. You half thought you’d be the first person to discover it.

The chill from the snow and wind had started to seep into your skin, burying itself in your very bones like knives. ‘None of these houses look particularly warm.’ You thought. Logically thinking you knew that the castle wouldn't be much warmer but you decided to start the trek there despite yourself. The was a cracked and mossy stone path that led to the Castle, weeds and grass started to sprout up in it. You didn't know how long the path was but you were completely exhausted and numb by the end of it. The doorway was grand, beautiful stone and a oddly well kept plants greeted you. Just as a precaution you knocked on the door using the golden knocker in the shape of a bat. You waited for three minutes before assuming the castle was abandoned and open for a night.

The chandelier was lit, and the castle radiated warmth. Those were the first things you noticed. Red flags rose in your head, there was no way this place was completely abandoned and still had this kind of upkeep. Driven by a need to be out of the cold you stepped in and let the door shut behind you regardless. The air was still and suffocating. You looked around to search for any sign of life, nothing. Wind blew through the windows and made creeks in the wood, at least you hoped it was the wind that made those sounds. You took cautious steps around the hallway, soaking in the grand stairway and ornate chandelier. Your footsteps echoed and you cursed yourself for your loudness. There was a creek from upstairs that sounded almost like footsteps, like heels clicking against the tile floors.

“Hello?” You said, not wanting to be too loud. There was no response. A few flies swarmed you, but you shooed them off with no mind. Your feet carried you through the elaborate hallways, and you pulled your camera out of your bag to snap a few photos for later; if this was an unmarked and potentially abandoned castle you could get large amounts of money for discovering it. There were the footsteps again. You froze and your blood ran cold. They were getting closer, the quiet yet steady click of heels against tile approached you.

click..

click…

click….

Someone else was in the room with you, right behind you. You take a slow shaking step forward. One foot in front of the other. The thing didn’t take any steps forward. You try to increase your pace before a cold voice rings out.

“Don’t run, little thing.”

You should’ve stayed outside. No amount of cold could compare to the shiver that went down your spine. Obediently, you didn’t run, instead opting to stay in place and not look at whatever was there. It sounded human, maybe it was the owner? But the way the air in the room changed and the louder than life steps that were taken made it seem like a creature rather than a person. It starts walking again, towards you. You squeezed your eyes shut and tucked your head down as it approached.

“What is your name?”

You hold your breath and don’t respond. Sweat drips down your brow.

“I know you heard me.”

“(Y/n).” You state quietly, your voice shaking. Without even opening your eyes you start to sputter an apology. “I-I didn’t know anyone owned this place! I was dumped my driver and it’s so cold outside I assumed this was abandoned, because of the abandoned village, so I’m didn’t freeze. I’m sorry to have broken and entered and whatnot.” You stumbled over your words and barely took a breath in between them. You start to crack your eyes open to look at whoever was in front of you.

A woman was face level with you. She must’ve been a bit taller than you because she was crouched down to meet your level. Your face heated up as you looked at her. She had a smile on her red painted lips and her deep eyes stared into your own.

“Most drivers tend to avoid driving here.” The woman started, completely ignoring how you intruded into her home. “Were you not warned of such?” She tilted her head. She had a gleam in her eyes as if she was daring you to admit that you had deeper motives in coming here.

“No.” Your voice was meeker than intended. “I thought I did ample research about the area before coming here, but apparently not…” You trailed off. You took a few steps backwards and kept your gaze trained on the floor.

“Research?” Her voice was smooth and velvety. Despite your complete and utter humiliation, and the fact that in all technically she could threaten legal action, you found yourself craving to hear more of her. She spoke elegantly, it could be compared to a glass of red wine. It was intoxicating. You almost missed her question.

“Um… yes research! I’m and explorer so I like to visit castles and villages and things of that sort, especially abandoned ones.” You rambled on. “I’m actually on a trip here to Europe on these adventures of sorts. I guess I should’ve looked into my travel a bit more.” The woman laughed silkily. She stood up to her full height causing you to gasp at her size. She was larger than any human you had ever seen, in fact she was larger than just about any human. The woman smirked down at you as if she knew the effect she had on you. She started walking back towards the door, waving her hand to urge you to follow her.

“You poor thing, being forced into the snow.” She tutted. “You don’t have to worry about that here in the castle of Dimitrescu.” You racked your brain for any castle you had heard of that matched that name. You came up short.

“Dimitrescu?” You curiously looked up at her, still stunned by her height. She was at least nine feet tall, maybe even ten.

“Yes that is my name, Alcina Dimitrescu.” She finally introduced herself, still walking ahead of you. Another swarm of flies buzzed around before leaving quickly. Alcina turned to face you. You got to look upon her face more closely this time. Her features were defined and mature, she had smile lines etched into her face and her eyes were deep-set. Her dark hair fell in shirt pin curls and her height made her all the more appealing to you. You admired her amber eyes and her pronounced cupids bow. The red lipstick she wore suited her well. You wondered how her lipstick would look staining your face, or your neck, or-

“So as I was saying,” Alcina said. Your head reeled from your wild thoughts and back to the tall woman. “There are plenty of rooms that are yours for the taking, for tonight of course.” Alcina led you down winding and beautiful hallways. “I apologize if my daughters happen to bother you. They can get a bit rowdy at times.” She warned. You felt your heart sink in disappointment. This beautiful woman had a family, she probably had a husband that she was waiting to return to bed too. You wonder what kind of bed she sleeps in due to her height.

you took a deep steadying breath before speaking. “A-and your husband?” You tested the waters.

“Oh, I don’t have one.” She replied simply, not explaining further. It didn’t matter, hope had ignited once again. She led you to a hallway with many elaborate doors, not that the other hallways didn’t have elaborate doors, but this one was different. “Here are the bedrooms. You’re allowed any and all of them.”

You look at her in confirmation, as if she would tell you this was all a trick and kick you back out in the snowy cold. “You’re too kind. Thank you.” You nod, walking towards the closest door.

“It’s no bother, I couldn’t let a pretty thing like you freeze out there.” Alcina chuckled before walking away. Your face heated up and you tucked yourself away inside the room, a flustered mess.

#lady dimitrescu x reader #lesbian #request #resident evil x reader #resident evil #resident evil 8 #lady dimitrescu

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stromuprisahat · 6 months ago

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How could that coup possibly have worked? The only thing which would have come out of it was even more rapid grisha hunting because one grisha literally destroyed a whole country so kill them before they do so too. Not to mention how would he even have tracked who is hunting and who is not? Even if the ming of the country says don't hunt them the people most certainly still will. If he has enough power to control all of that then destroying that country is not even required.

By that logic, there should've been a Coup done by the First Army. They recognized- on some level- that the King isn't interested in them, and if they blamed it on the Darkling- which they did- Little Palace is right in Grand Palace's backyard, and storming it, when freeing either the Tsar of evil Grisha influence (or the country of the Tsar) shouldn't be an issue.

“The Fjerdans have a breech-loading rifle that can fire twenty-eight rounds per minute. Our soldiers should have them, too. If the King could be bothered to take an interest in the First Army, we wouldn’t be so dependent on the Grisha. But it’ll never happen,” he told me. Then he muttered, “We all know who’s running the country.”

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 18

When you can drag adult, fully trained Grisha out of their beds to slaughter them, you can burn down their home with a few teachers, children and invalids, when going after their leader.

Although true- people rarely react to slow destruction, but a sudden tragedy gets an immediate response. Proof or not.

The thing is, there were no anti-Grisha survivors of the Fold moving, even in books, there are speculations mentioned, but then the pogroms started almost immediately. Either somebody took control of the narrative and ensured the finger shall be pointed in the right direction, or the First Army took matters into their hands out of pure initiative and spread the word themselves. You need to justify a massacres of the Crown's property ~somehow~.

As for how was the Coup supposed to work in the first place- we have exactly no info about anything regarding Aleksander's side and plans.

We have only the basics- he wanted to get rid of the Lantsovs, somehow secured the Apparat's support in the Capital and tried to force a permanent ceasefire by using the Fold.

What was his deal with the Apparat- he doesn't trust him and the creepy priest stabbed him in the back as soon as possible, so what was the original agreement?

He had to have more allies. Ideally on more places. If there are malcontents among the First Army, some might be less anti-Grisha than others. There might be more realistic nobles. Merchants could benefit greatly from better use of Grisha, especially with control over the Fold. It's likely they'd all go underground if the key parts of the plan failed.

Why target Novokribirsk? We've been over this plenty of times, but the person we've been introduced as a pretty decent strategist, who often puts himself in risk to spare others, wouldn't just annihilate a random site. And the winning side sure as hell wouldn't hurry in to paint a full picture.

How should it succeed?

The Darkling turned his back on their stunned and angry expressions and addressed the Grisha and soldiers on the skiff. “Tell the story of what you’ve seen today. Tell everyone that the days of fear and uncertainty are over. The days of endless fighting are over. Tell them that you saw a new age begin.” A cheer went up from the crowd. I saw a few soldiers muttering to each other. Even some of the Grisha looked unnerved. But most of their faces were eager, triumphant, shining. They’re hungry for this, I realized. Even after they’ve seen what he can do, even after watching their own people die.

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 22

With the control over the narrative, the Ravkan people would've been freed from the yoke of the golden Royal leeches, their new leader stepping in after ensuring a permanent peace on all fronts, soon opening a path through the Fold, reuniting families and making the goods flow from one side of the country to another.

Sure, it wouldn't solve the prevailing anti-Grisha sentiments in the society, but one thing at the time. Such issues are easier to tackle, when you're not a slave, dependent of your masters mercy or a hunted animal. The Darkling already tried to change things from the below, it's about time to do it the other way around.

#reply #Grishaverse #The Darkling #Ravka #grishanalyticritical #S&B Chapter 18 #S&B Chapter 22 #anti Grisha sentiments #Frist Army #The Apparat #Lantsovs #Shadow and Bone (book)#Grisha trilogy #books #quotes #Leigh Bardugo

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scotianostra · 1 year ago

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On October 15th 1902 Edinburgh's Balmoral Hotel opened its doors for the first time.

Look out for my own connections to this grand old hotel, both in a personal sense and through my home town of Loanhead.

Back then it was called The North British and in Edinburgh a lot of people, myself included, still refer to it by the initials NB.

On Wednesday 15 October, 1902, on the front page of The Scotsman newspaper, a small advert appeared: “North British Station Hotel. This hotel in direct communication with Waverley Station is now open F.T. Burcher, hotel manager.”

According to the hotel’s official history, the North British was “a vanguard for the railway company which built it, a surrogate for the grand station they had never been permitted to erect in the sensitive site between Old and New Town.” The architecture, executed in golden sandstone, features towers and balconies galore. It’s a glorious mash-up of influences from across northern Europe. Expensive to build as well as to run – it gobbled upwards of 200 tons of coal every month – the hotel was seen as a “sign of the future heralded by the railways, the newly opened Forth Bridge and the electric lights switched on in Princes Street just seven years earlier”.

Nevertheless, some believed the Caledonian, which opened a year later, boasted the more advantageous location. And some detractors found the sheer size of the hotel gauche, complaining “it is coarse and obstructive at once”.

The hotel – working name “Waverley Station Hotel” – was the brainchild of George Wieland, a former NBR company secretary who retired to its board in 1890. Having toured some of the most lavish hotels in the world – where he realised the importance of having a banqueting hall to bring in business – he hired W Hamilton Beattie to draw up plans for Edinburgh. The hotel would have 300 bedrooms, 52 bathrooms, and 70 lavatories, and was designed to encourage the circulation of fresh air. Lifts shot people straight from the station into the hotel’s foyer, and beyond that, to rooms furnished with mahogany, leather and crimson moquette. It’s said that the bill for plants and flowers exceeded the bill for gas, and there was even a special machine to burnish the silver. Weiland made sure the new hotel’s cellars were full of the finest champagnes, hocks, ports, and whisky, the better to entice his ideal customers – wealthy, landed families moving between their multiple residences.

In 1922, the hotel became part of the London and North Eastern Railway Company and by all accounts the hotel sparkled from top to bottom, but after the Second World War, when the railways were nationalised, and Prestwick airport began getting transatlantic traffic, things began a slow downward trajectory. Even so, the hotel remained the destination for Edinburgh society events, be they corporate or personal. In 1983, British Rail sold off its rather faded North British Hotel. In 1988, it closed for refurbishment, it was in dire need of this, some of the rooms were looking a wee bit shabby, the wooden window frames unable to open fully, and how do I know this? Well I used to be the window cleaner in the hotel and the windows that didn't open meant I had to find one close by and edge along the crumbling sandstone ledges, the worst affected, and highest were on the south of the hotel and there was a six storey drop down to the train station below.

At the start of the 1990s, Balmoral International Hotels, an Edinburgh based company, bought the venue. In 1997, the Balmoral became the first hotel bought by Sir Rocco Forte as he assembled his portfolio of hotels. It currently boasts Scotland’s only Bollinger Bar, as well as the Michelin-starred Number One restaurant run by executive chef Jeff Bland, a spa, and ten function rooms accommodating up to 450 people.

Famous guests over the years have included Elizabeth Taylor, Michael Palin, Beyoncé and JK Rowling, who finished the last Harry Potter novel here, on 11 January, 2007, and then daubed her signature on a bust in her room.

A second wee link with the hotel, is Charles Forte, Grandfather of the present owner began his working life in my home town of Loanhead when he moved to Scotland from Italy.

#scotland #scottish #history #edinburgh #Hotel #Princes street

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bivabdevelopersodisha · 29 days ago

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Puri Real Estate Market: A Smart Investment for Your Dream Home

Puri, the spiritual capital of Odisha and home to the famous Jagannath Temple, is fast emerging as a real estate hotspot. Known for its pristine beaches, cultural heritage, and growing infrastructure, Puri's housing market presents a golden opportunity for homebuyers and investors alike. Whether you’re looking for affordable 1 BHK sea-view flats in Puri or luxury 2 BHK furnished apartments near Puri beach, there’s a property for every budget and lifestyle.

One of the most talked-about residential projects in this region is Bivab Yashila, offering modern flats in Puri with world-class amenities. If you’re considering investing in Puri real estate, now is the perfect time!

Why is Puri’s Real Estate Market Booming?

1. Coastal Living at Its Best

The demand for sea-view apartments in Puri is at an all-time high. Living near the ocean not only offers a serene lifestyle but also ensures higher property appreciation over time. Luxury apartments in Puri with modern amenities and stunning beach views are attracting buyers from across India.

2. Spiritual and Cultural Significance

Puri is one of the Char Dham pilgrimage sites, making it a preferred location for spiritual seekers and retirees. Real estate trends in Odisha indicate that properties near religious and heritage sites tend to have long-term value appreciation.

3. Rapid Infrastructure Development

With improvements in road connectivity, better urban planning, and upcoming residential projects, Puri’s housing market is evolving. The current property rates in Bhubaneswar and Puri reflect a steady increase, making investment opportunities in Puri’s real estate market highly attractive.

4. Ideal for Vacation Homes and Rentals

Being a major tourist hub, Puri Real Estate offers excellent rental returns. Many investors purchase furnished apartments in Puri as holiday homes or Airbnb rentals to generate passive income. Puri property prices remain competitive compared to other beach destinations, making it a profitable long-term investment.

Types of Properties Available in Puri

1. Affordable Housing in Puri

For budget-conscious buyers, there are affordable 1 BHK sea-view flats in Puri and modern flats in Puri that offer excellent amenities without a hefty price tag.

2. Luxury Apartments in Puri

For those seeking an opulent lifestyle, luxury 2 BHK furnished apartments near Puri Beach come equipped with state-of-the-art facilities like swimming pools, landscaped gardens, and smart home features. Luxury living experiences in Puri’s beachfront properties are gaining popularity among NRIs and high-net-worth individuals.

3. Villas and Independent Houses

If you prefer privacy, independent villas near Puri Beach offer spacious living with premium features. Many upcoming residential projects in Puri focus on villa-style developments, catering to those who seek exclusivity.

4. Commercial Properties

With the rise of tourism and retail businesses, commercial real estate in Puri is also witnessing growth. From beachfront resorts to retail spaces near Jagannath Temple, the opportunities are diverse.

Best Locations to Buy Property in Puri

1. Sea Beach Road

The most sought-after area, offering sea-view apartments in Puri and high rental demand.

2. Baliapanda

Close to the beach and well-connected, this area is perfect for modern flats in Puri and luxury projects like Bivab Yashila.

3. VIP Road

A developing area with promising future value, attracting both residential and commercial projects.

4. Grand Road (Bada Danda)

If you want to stay near the Jagannath Temple, this location is ideal.

Future Prospects of Real Estate Investments in Puri

Increasing Tourist Influx – As one of India’s most visited pilgrimage and beach destinations, the demand for housing and rentals will continue to rise.

Government Development Initiatives – Projects like improved coastal roads, tourism infrastructure, and smart city plans are set to boost Puri’s real estate market further.

Steady Appreciation of Property Values – The current property rates in Bhubaneswar and Puri indicate a growing trend, making now the perfect time to invest.

Key Considerations Before Buying Property in Puri

Compare 1 BHK and 2 BHK Apartments in Puri – Choose a configuration that fits your lifestyle and budget. Check Legal Approvals – Ensure the property has all necessary permits and RERA approvals. Analyze Rental Potential – Opt for areas near the beach or temple if investing in rental income. Future-Proof Your Investment – Look for properties in developing areas to maximize future returns.

Conclusion: Is Puri the Right Investment Choice?

Absolutely! Whether you’re a homebuyer looking for a peaceful sea-facing flat or an investor seeking high returns in Puri’s housing market, the opportunities are abundant. Puri is an ideal destination for real estate investments with its spiritual significance, thriving tourism, and growing infrastructure.

Now is the perfect time to invest in Puri real estate before prices surge further!

#developers in puri #developers in odisha #developers in Bhubaneswar #builders in puri #builders in Bhubaneswar

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