#Speaking of the sovereigns I ABSOLUTELY ADORE THEM

[hypostatic-oath]

OVERSEER BRAINROT

(This is like. Me rambling. This is poorly explained and my grasp on the canon lore is iffy but this is just how I imagine/will write the Overseer - aka the player - in SAGAU. This perspective will likely change as I understand more of the lore, but for now, here's some crumbs.)

Overseer whose role is, more than simply observing, to keep the canon going.

Experiencing the story, and that includes collecting characters and learning of their lore, exploring the world, building our teapot, etc is our reward for playing our role - and our role is to push the story forward. It doesn't progress without us. We're not Teyvat's creator, but we are the one making each of our worlds move (we're the mover we're the shaker we're the headline maker). If we did not take action, the twins never would've been separated - they would've stayed forever in that choosing screen, held permanently in that moment. If we had not chosen to walk forward and touch the statue, the Traveler would never have gotten the Anemo elemental powers. Would've never helped Dvalin. Signora would've never taken Venti's gnosis. Rex Lapis would never have "died". Every single other major event wouldn't happen.

The player is the being that makes the Canon Events happen - not directly, but through making sure that the story progresses. (Miguel O'Hara theme plays in the background.) And this can happen at whichever speed we decide.

Now, while the fact that we are the ones making the story go by could be used to argue that the Overseer would be the one to make the passage of time, that is not quite true. The days in Teyvat do not depend on the story progression. Months can pass before those two Fatui in Mondstadt (I love them) have any new gossip to share about current events, or they can pass through five new topics in a span of days, depending on how fast the player runs through the quests. Time is not the deciding factor in these characters' fates. It doesn't matter how long it's been since Signora died - Viktor (the Fatui guy at the Cathedral) will not be stationed at his new post unless the player finishes his comission. Teppei's condition won't worsen with time, either. If we don't continue the quest, we can stand next to him for weeks in game before he passes. Thus, I propose that the Overseer is more of a god of Fate (not to mention, the god of time position is taken). To add to this, the things we use to pull for characters are called Fates. Intertwined Fates, Acquaint Fates, both circle back to the same idea. Hangouts can be seen as a sort of exploration of this power - with the ability to choose one of five or six fates for that character (if only Character Quests had that too). It is, however, one of the few times we have control over which version of the story is told. Otherwise, we are mostly the energy that moves it along.

It's not just that it's a canon event and we cannot interfere - it's that it is literally our purpose to make sure it happens, even if we don't like it. We're here to witness and progress the story - and bad things can happen in stories, regardless of what the characters in it want. So right now I am having some Villain Overseer brainrot, not because they want to be evil on purpose, but because some character decides to pull a Miles Morales and say "I'mma do my own thing" and mess up the story's flow. For someone trying to change the course of the story, the force that pushes events forward is obviously Not Good. I can see Fontaine characters seeing the Traveler's arrival as an ill omen, a sign that the prophecy will come true. They're divided, because on one hand, the Traveler has a good reputation, someone helpful, kind, a hero. But the Overseer's attention signifies that events will inevitably unfold. So Lyney invites them to be part of a show. Furina threatens to arrest the Traveler. Navia asks them out for tea. As long as they can keep the Overseer's attention on other matters, the event they dread won't happen. (I won't talk much abt Neuvillette rn becayse spoilers)

Enter eventual Arlechinno boss fight (it hasn't happened yet, but I do hope we get one) - she's the one who tries to fight the Traveler head on, to personally put a stop to it once and for all. Perhaps the Overseer has no ill will, but that doesn't matter. Not when their presence means that the clock is ticking faster and faster every day.

Now for a more lighthearted thought, Isekai'd Overseer who doesn't really have a concept of urgency. No important event will occur without them present, so they have no qualms in arriving on the day after the scheduled date, confident that as long as it is between 18:00 - 23:00 the reservation will still be placed and people will be at their seats as if it was always meant to be that way.

So the Overseer walks into a bar, with a face too fresh for someone who hasn't slept in what the people of Teyvat percieve to have been months, just coming in from the Spiral Abyss, and asks the bartender where their friends are.

"I don't know? Master Kaeya usually shows up at this hour, but the rest of your usual group is probably tending to their affairs."

"Odd. They were supposed to be here by now. We had a big dinner planned." The person in front of him, who Charles is more and more sure definitely looks somewhat off in a way he can't quite pinpoint, seems confused. "There was a reservation and everything. In Kaeya's name, I believe."

"Well, I'm sorry, but the last reservation Master Kaeya placed here was a month ago."

"Again, weird. He said he was going to place one. Oh, well. When the others get here, just let them know I'll be on one of the big tables upstairs, alright? And you can put everything on my tab."

[vidavalor]

Brenda and Ron

Remember Madame Tracy's obnoxious regular customer, Brenda, and her long-suffering, dead husband Ron? Yeah, I'm pretty sure they're a big clue about The Metatron-- yes, The Metatron-- and how this could go down in The Finale...

Brenda: Her name means-- I kid you not-- "flaming sword."

While Brenda is absolutely fucking obnoxious, she's also something of an inverted Aziraphale parallel here. Brenda, by design, is kind of like if you took everything great about Aziraphale and intentionally did the opposite with it. She's bigoted, she's mean, she hates kimchi lol, she was bullying and rude in her loveless marriage to her long-suffering husband, Ron, who couldn't stand her... She's basically the opposite of our open-minded, sushi-loving angel and the kind, loving, mutually-adoring relationship he has with his partner. Everything terrible about Brenda is notable in the way that it brings to mind how she directly contrasts with Aziraphale.

What our flaming sword of Brenda does have in common with our flaming sword of Aziraphale, though, is that there is someone she cannot easily access whose voice is on another type of astral plane and with whom she needs to speak with great urgency.

For Brenda, it's about her regular attempts to speak with her late husband, Ron, while, for Aziraphale, it's about him taking the rare step of powering up the circle in the floor and trying to reach God. Brenda has nothing of any real note to tell Ron while Aziraphale is quite literally trying to save the world.

When Aziraphale attempts to reach God, he, too, reaches a medium of sorts-- The Metatron, who claims to be the person who can speak for God... just as Madame Tracy claims to be able to be the voice of Ron.

We're a bit doubtful about The Metatron's claims because, unlike Aziraphale, we have seen the opening titles of this show where Frances McDormand is credited rather specifically as "The Voice of God" so, when the wonderful Sir Derek Jacobi shows up as floating head claiming to be God's mouthpiece and is this condescending, cold, shifty, Wizard-of-Oz-esque asshole, we're pretty sure that Frances McDormand is the voice we should trust more-- regardless of whatever the deal with Her might be, exactly.

Backing this up is that The Metatron's parallel is another charlatan. This one being one we actually like-- Madame Tracy.

While Aziraphale attempted to talk to God and got sidelined by a character claiming to be a medium to God, Brenda regularly believes that she speaks to "her Ron" through her sessions with Madame Tracy... whom the audience can clearly see is only pretending to be Ron... just, perhaps, as The Metatron is only pretending to be able to speak to God.

Now, take Good Omens' words-within-words wordplay thing and break the word metatron up. While the inclination is to break it like "meta tron"-- and that does yield results-- for the purpose of this meta, break it like this:

The Metatron: Me Tat Ron. The word tat comes from tatting, a verb used to refer to making knotted lace. A tat is a knot in tatting. Me Tat Ron = Me Knot Ron... or: I'm Not God.

So, in our parallel here, we also have aligning the persons our Brenda and our Aziraphale are trying to contact. For Brenda, it's her dead husband, Ron, and for Aziraphale, it's God, right? Ron = God.

Ron: Short for Ronald. Means all of the following: counsel rule; advice of a sovereign; a song of joy. Ron is also apparently a Hebrew word for joy.

What bit of the apparent words of The Voice of God does Gabriel remember because it's the only thing he's clinging to as proof that maybe God is real and would approve of his disapproval of The Metatron and the demonizing of the demons?

"I remember when the morning stars sang together and all the angels of God shouted for joy."

He remembers what sounds an awful lot like a prophecy of what's to come-- when all the angels of God get together, look to the people who are like independent, sovereign nations among them (like Crowley, Aziraphale, Gabriel & Beez) and demand their freedom to pursue joy and live under a democratic form of government. They're all shouting for joy-- for Ron-- and how might they get it in The Finale?

What can we see from what happened when Aziraphale and Brenda's stories crossed into one another in S1?

Aziraphale's hilarious possession of Madame Tracy while she's in a session with Brenda results in Aziraphale bringing in the real Ron and we get what will be the opposite of how this will go-- the contrasting parallel to the Heaven story like this in The Finale.

Brenda, for the first time since her husband died, actually hears his voice. She's awful, though, so she squanders this and just starts complaining to him and Ron flips out (not very joyful lol), shouting at her to "shut up", glad he can tell her off in death at least when he never did in life.

We're left with Aziraphale's hilariously dry "wasn't that touching?"

Brenda and the two with her are, ironically and amusingly, not really changed much by the fact that the real Ron was heard. Brenda was a true believer and the woman she brought was pretty easily manipulated. The man thought it was a charade but was along for the ride, willing to credit Madame Tracy with a good time when it was all done, saying she provided good entertainment value.

Nothing really changes as a result of this Ron revelation because it's the lower stakes, contrasting parallel. It's the little plot that, really, secretly, is the same thing as the big plot still to come. In that bigger plot, with the involvement of our main characters and the much higher stakes, the opposite could well happen-- the revelation of The Metatron being a fraud will actually change everything.

The point is that everyone involved with the Madame Tracy arrangement was getting out of it what they needed or wanted so no real offense was taken. Nothing changed because no one needed it to change-- which is the complete opposite of the angels and demons in Heaven/Hell. Brenda was getting a place to work out her grief, her guests were getting to support Brenda in that process and be entertained along the way, and Madame Tracy was getting paid-- so, no harm, no real foul here. But the paralleling situation to this?

That one is much more serious. That's fate-of-the-world serious. That's a being in The Metatron who isn't just trying to keep a roof over their head and meals on the table for them and the lovable old idiot next door by pretending to be a fortune teller like Madame Tracy was. That's a fascist ruling an empire of a bonkers number of angels who has amassed enough power to try to destroy Earth and every person on it. It's not Madame Tracy's handful of satisfied clients; it's countless, miserable beings who are being oppressed.

Now, think about what happened here to cause the emergence of Ron and how this is a parallel to the Aziraphale and The Metatron story...

Ron was only able to enter the conversation when Aziraphale possessed Madame Tracy. In doing so, he took over Madame Tracy-- he usurped her power.

Madame Tracy allowed him to do this where The Metatron never ever will but the idea is that the truth of Ron-- God, in our parallel here; democracy and freedom and joy-- will emerge only if Aziraphale can surpass The Metatron in power.

Note that I didn't say that all of this changes if Aziraphale takes over Gabriel's job. I said he needs to surpass The Metatron in power. How does Aziraphale do that?

He's actually already done it-- by being Aziraphale.

The only thing more powerful in Heaven right now than The Metatron is the collective power of everyone who would move to defend Aziraphale *from* The Metatron. He's the motivation for everyone to come together.

It's just all about going directly at The Metatron and taking his power. It's doing that which can reveal the truth about The Metatron and God and lead to an appearance by our metaphorical Ron-- lead to the changes in Heaven that the end of our story needs.

In the parallel in our main story, it won't be the Brenda/Aziraphale who gets screamed at to "shut up"-- it will be the Madame Tracy/The Metatron. Our main angels and demons are really The Voice of Ron this time around and, just like how it took Aziraphale to make it so that a guy named Ron could be heard in S1, it will take Aziraphale again to make Heaven get the Ron-- joy, democracy, freedom-- that they've been desperate for all this time.

Either way, it's going to be funny when the angels and demons get The Metatron cornered and demand to talk to Frances McDormand and The Metatron does about this great a job at it 😂...

Also, bonus interesting bit related to who is going to help with this in The Finale is that Jim is among the common names mentioned in the hilarious moment of Madame Tracy trying to hit on the name of a guy that Brenda's guest knew.

Did Brenda's friend know a Jim? No, he didn't. In the contrasting parallel, though, Crowley and Aziraphale got to know a Jim pretty well recently and, funnily enough? Much like Brenda's skeptical friend with Madame Tracy in S1, our Jim seems like the one character who is pretty sure that this whole 'The Metatron Speaks For God' thing is a charade.

[catenaaurea]

Catechism of Pope Saint Pius X

The Commandments

The First Commandment

1. Q. Why is it said at the commencement of the Commandments: I am the Lord thy God?

A. It is said at the commencement of the Commandments: I am the Lord thy God, to show us that God being our Creator and Lord, can command whatever He wills, and that we, being His creatures, are bound to obey Him.

2. Q. In the words of the First Commandment: Thou shalt not have strange gods before Me, what does God command us?

A. By the words of the First Commandment: Thou shalt not have strange gods before Me, He commands us to acknowledge, adore, love and serve Him alone as our Sovereign Lord.

3. Q. How do we fulfil the First Commandment?

A. We fulfil the First Commandment by the practice of internal and external worship.

4. Q. What is internal worship?

A. Internal worship is the honor which is given to God with the faculties of the soul alone, that is with the intellect and the will.

5. Q. What is external worship?

A. External worship is the homage that is given to God by means of outward acts and of sensible objects.

6. Q. Is it not enough internally to adore God with the heart alone?

A. No, it is not enough internally to adore God with the heart alone; we must also adore Him externally with both soul and body, because He is the Creator and absolute Lord of both.

7. Q. Can there be external worship without internal worship?

A. No, in no way can there be external worship without internal, because unless external worship is accompanied by internal, it is destitute of life, of merit, and of efficacy, like a body without a soul.

8. Q. What is forbidden by the First Commandment?

A. The First Commandment forbids idolatry, superstition, sacrilege, heresy, and every other sin against religion.

9. Q. What is idolatry?

A. Idolatry is the giving to any creature, for example, to a statue, to an image, or to a man, the supreme worship of adoration that belongs to God alone.

10. Q. How is this prohibition expressed in Holy Scripture?

A. This prohibition is expressed in Holy Scripture in these words: Thou shalt not make to thyself a graven thing, nor the likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or on the earth beneath; and thou shalt not adore them or serve them.

11. Q. Do these words forbid every kind of image?

A. Certainly not; but only those of false divinities, made to be adored, as idolaters adore them. So true is this, that God Himself commanded Moses to make images, as, for example, the two statues of the Cherubim for the Ark, and the Brazen Serpent in the desert.

12. Q. What is superstition?

A. Superstition is any devotion that is contrary to the teaching and practice of the Church; as also the ascribing to any action or any thing whatever a supernatural virtue which it does not possess.

13. Q. What is a sacrilege?

A. A sacrilege is the profanation of a place, of a person, or of a thing consecrated to God and set apart for his worship.

14. Q. What is heresy?

A. Heresy is a culpable error of the intellect by which some truth of faith is obstinately denied.

15. Q. What else does the First Commandment forbid?

A. The First Commandment also forbids all dealings with the devil, and all association with anti-Christian sects.

16. Q. If one were to have recourse to and invoke the devil, would he commit a grave sin?

A. If one were to have recourse to and invoke the devil, he would commit an enormous sin, because the devil is the most wicked enemy both of God and of man.

17. Q. Is it lawful to put questions to speaking or writing tables or in any way to consult the souls of the dead by means of spiritism?

A. All the practices of spiritism are unlawful, because they are superstitious; and often they are not free from diabolical intervention; and hence they are rightly condemned by the Church.

18. Q. Does the First Commandment forbid us to honor and invoke the Angels and Saints?

A. No, it is not forbidden to honor and invoke the Angels and Saints; on the contrary, we should do so, because it is a good and useful practice highly commended by the Church; for they are God’s friends and our intercessors with Him.

19. Q. Since Jesus Christ is our only mediator with God, why have recourse also to the intercession of the Blessed Virgin and the Saints?

A. Jesus Christ is our Mediator with God, because being true God and true man He alone in virtue of His own merits has reconciled us to God and obtains us all graces. But in virtue of the merits of Jesus Christ, and through the charity which unites them to God and us, the Blessed Virgin and the Saints help us by their intercession to obtain the graces we ask. And this is one of the great benefits of the Communion of Saints.

20. Q. May we also honor the sacred images of Jesus Christ and of the Saints?

A. Yes, because the honor we give the sacred images of Jesus Christ and of the Saints is referred to their very persons.

21. Q. May the relics of the Saints be honored?

A. Yes, we should honor the relics of the Saints, because their bodies were living members of Jesus Christ and temples of the Holy Ghost, and will rise gloriously to eternal life.

22. Q. What is the difference between the honor we give to God and the honor we give to the Saints?

A. Between the honor we give to God and the honor we give to the Saints there is this difference, that we adore God because of his infinite excellence, whereas we do not adore the Saints, but honor and venerate them as God’s friends and our intercessors with Him. The honor we give to God is called Latria, that is, the worship of adoration; the honor we give to the Saints is called Dulia, that is, the veneration of the servants of God; while the special honor we give to the Blessed Virgin is called Hyperdulia, that is, a special veneration of the Mother of God.

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

The King’s precious gem...

For the sweet @marilynmonroefanfics​

Hope you will enjoy this story!

"Here comes King consort (Y/N) of Mirkwood!"

"This social climber? Don't even talk to me about this little nobody!"

"Quiet! If King Thranduil hears you, he will make you pay! The last one who dared disrespect his husband ended up in jail for almost 20 years. Luckily for him, (Y/N) pardoned him. Besides, the people loved him!"

(Y/N) did not care about those gossips on his trail: he knew he deserved his place next to the king. What a long way since he was only a healer!

The young elf can heal since his younger days. Noticed for his gifts, he succeeded in working at the royal court. However, he did not expect to be the friend and confidant of Prince Legolas.

The two young men fought together against the Orcs or any enemy of their kingdom.

One day, (Y/N) managed to save the life of Legolas when the latter fell ill. Worried about his son's safety, King Thranduil hired the best healers of his kingdom to treat him. Only (Y/N) managed to heal the young prince.

Grateful, the monarch allowed him to stay in the court. Then, he started to get interested in this young healer who can play with a knife and medicine. The elf king always found an excuse to spend more time with (Y/N).

Slowly, a romance blossomed between them, much to the surprise of Legolas. 

When the court heard about this affair, it was a shock for many of the royal counselors. Indeed, they took a very dim view of this young commoner. However, the people immediately loved (Y/N) and accepted him as their new king consort.

Since this day, (Y/N) was allowed to sit next to The King. And today, he felt his presence would be helpful for his husband, as the latter was about to greet a delegation of dwarves. This delegation was led by Thorin Oakenshield, the grandson of Thror, King of Erebor. It sounds like his beloved husband would need his help.

It is necessary to say that between Thranduil and the Erebor royal family, there was a feud that lasted for years. 

As he arrived in the throne room, a servant announced:

"His Majesty King Consort (Y/N) of Mirkwood!"

Slightly smiling, the young man saw Thranduil sitting on his throne. 

The monarch talked with a guard:

"Let those dwarves coming here. However, be careful with this Thorin Oaekenshield: I fear he might be like his grandfather..."

"All the guards will be vigilant, Your Majesty!" stated the armored man as he saluted his king before leaving the room.

Thranduil turned his hand and gently gestured to his husband:

"Come here, my love."

"This is what I intended to do, my adored." (Y/N) smiled as he sat on his throne.

Thranduil reached (Y/N)'s hand and held it.

"I am glad that you find some time for me."

"Well, I know this meeting is capital for you. Besides, I would like you to avoid a new feud between our people and the dwarves of Erebor."

The elf king sighed.

"What can I say? You cannot trust dwarves. Especially those who come from under the mountains."

"Who knows? Maybe Thorin would be different..."

Thranduil scoffed.

"I wish I was optimistic like you, my sunflower."

"Let see..."

Suddenly, a guard shouted:

"Thorin Oakenshield and his delegation are here, Your Majesties. Gandalf the Grey is here too!"

"What this wizard is doing here?" grumbled Thranduil.

"We'll see in time..."

Shortly after, the company of Thorin Oakenshield arrived in the throne room. Among the dwarves, (Y/N) noticed a hobbit, which surprised him.

But, much to his delight, he noticed the presence of Gandalf.

"Dear Gandalf, what a pleasure to see you!"

The old wizard politely bowed with a smile:

"The pleasure is reciprocated, King (Y/N)."

As for Thranduil and Thorin, they stared stonily at each other. The Durin dynasty and the Elf King always had difficult contacts. All the story with Smaug did not improve it, and even if Thorin finally regain his throne, he never forgave Thranduil for giving up on his people when they needed help.

"Greetings, o delegation of Erebor. I hope the journey was not too arduous," said Thranduil with a cold tone.

"It went well, Your Majesty," politely said Balin with a respectful bow.

"It is a pleasure finally meeting the brave company of Thorin Oakenshield. The same company who dared fight Smaug The Terrible and gained back their kingdom," added (Y/N) with a gentle smile.

All the dwarves giggled with a blush on their faces. They all heard about King (Y/N) of Mirkwood, known as "The Gentle King" by all realms. Even Dwalin, who could not stand elves, was not able to resist.

The two kings started to negotiate new treaties between their respective kingdoms. Unfortunately, as they were both stubborn, they did not agree on anything.

"WHAT? YOU WANT US TO SELL OUR METAL? THAT IS DAYLIGHT ROBBERY!" yelled Thorin.

"It is ABSOLUTELY out of the question that my people would low the price of our wooden crafts," replied Thranduil with anger.

As for the other dwarves, they stayed silent while watching their sovereign sparring verbally with The Elvenking.

Meanwhile, Gandalf talked with (Y/N).

"I expected that they would fight. I hope you're not annoyed, dear (Y/N)."

"Not really, my dear wizard: I am not surprised by their behavior. They never got along, and I am afraid it will not change."

Suddenly, (Y/N)  noticed Bilbo slowly coming towards him. Gandalf exclaimed:

"Ah, I forgot! I should introduce you to our dear Hobbit! Master Baggins, this is King (Y/N) of Mirkwood. King (Y/N), I would like to introduce Bilbo Baggins to you. Without his talents, this quest would have failed."

Intimidated, the Hobbit awkwardly bowed:

"It is an honor to meet you, Your Majesty."

"It is a pleasure to meet you too, Mister Baggins."

Catching his breath, Bilbo replied:

"I have to say, Your Majesty: when I told all the inhabitants of Hobbiton that I would meet you, they all ask me to check if you were as handsome and benevolent as the songs said..."

The King consort asked, amused:

"And do I meet your expectations, Master Baggins?"

Bilbo brightly blushed before replying:

"The truth is, O (Y/N), the songs did not have enough words to praise your handsomeness and kindness."

"That is very kind of you, Mister Baggins."

Fidgeting his fingers, the Hobbit:

"May I ask you something, O generous monarch?"

"What is it, Mister Baggins?"

"Well... The people of Hobbiton want to have proof that I met you. And I would like to know if you could provide me some evidence."

The King consort smiled:

"Did they ask for something in particular?"

"Not really."

"Then, I think I can help you," replied (Y/N) as he cut one of his dark locks. 

Then, he put in a golden pendant, engraved with his portrait, before handing it to Bilbo Baggins.

"When you will come back home, tell your people that it is the present from the King consort of Mirkwood to the bravest Hobbit."

The Hobbit stared with amazement at this gift. 

He stammered:

"Your Majesty... I have no words to tell you how grateful I am!"

"There is no need, Master Baggins: your actions speak louder than your words."

(Y/N) did not notice that Fili was looking at him with adoring eyes.

Indeed, the nephew of Thorin swore he never met such a handsome man in all realms. It such a shame this perfect elf married Thranduil. 

He came towards (Y/N) and politely said:

"I am pleased to meet you, King (Y/N)."

"The pleasure is mine, Prince Fili."

The young Dwarf prince felt his heart skipping a beat: this voice! It was like hearing millions of birds singing in harmony.

Clearing his throat, he asked:

"Your Majesty, may I ask you something?"

"Of course. What is it?"

To the surprise of all the people gathered in the room, Fili asked:

"Are you aware that your handsomeness is the most deadly weapon of all realms?"

All stopped talking - or yelling - and looked at the scene with surprise on their faces.

As for (Y/N), he was astonished by this question.

"Well, I am not aware that I am dangerous to this point. Could you tell why?"

Smirking, Fili declaimed:

"Like a battering ram,

Your smile makes the walls around my heart crumbling down.

Like a sharpened sword,

Your eyes destroyed the shield that protects my mind.

Like an arrow,

Your voice pierced me to the core.

And like a defeated army,

I surrender to the love I feel for you."

"WHAT?" exclaimed (Y/N).

"How dare you, you filthy dwarf!" yelled Thranduil.

"Do not use that tone with my nephew!" scolded Thorin.

Unaware of the upcoming threat, Fili pursued his declaration:

"It is the truth! You're so handsome, kind, wise, and pure. You deserve better than those arrogant elves!"

"Fili, shut up!" gritted Kili.

Feeling the anger boiling in the eyes of the Elvenking, Gandalf tried to calm the situation.

"Your Majesty, please forgive this young dwarf. He lets the ardor of youth speaking louder than his reason," he said while giving a slight slap on Fili's head.

Balin pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed: not only he had to deal with the short-tempered dwarf king, but he had to handle his carefree prince.

As for Dwalin, he inwardly chuckled: he despised Thranduil, and seeing Fili courting the King consort of Mirkwood amused him.

Meanwhile, Fili claimed his love for (Y/N):

"Come to Erebor, o blossoming orchid. I would make you the happiest prince of all realms."

"Listen, Fili: your gentleness towards me is moving. But, in case you are not aware, I am married and happy!"

"And I would let no one, and especially NO DWARF, courting my spouse!" fumed Thranduil.

When he heard that, Fili had a deadpan expression on his face and declared:

"Then, I know what I have to do..."

"What do you mean?" asked Balin, sweating with dread.

"Why I fear he might say something stupid?" muttered Bilbo.

They were not out of the woods!

"I, Fili, son of Dis, grandson of Thrain, solemnly demand the hand of (Y/N) of Mirkwood as my husband!"

"WHAT?" yelled the dwarves.

"Oh no!" groaned Kili as he facepalmed.

As for Gandalf, he feared that Thranduil would be mad. And it was the case!

"Stay away from my husband, you idiot!"

Thorin snickered, which angered the elf king.

"May I know what causes your hilarity, Thorin Oakenshield?"

"At least, it proves that my nephew has good taste. And perhaps (Y/N) will appreciate our beautiful kingdom, far from your bunches of hypocrites!" replied the latter.

"What do you mean?"

"Either you are deaf, or blind... or stupid. But I find it hard not to notice that your royal boot-lickers are not happy to see a consort that is not from royal lineage!"

"Please, can we go back to the negotiations?" pleaded Balin.

"Not until this idiot stops courting my husband!" yelled Thranduil.

"Oh, shut up, you pointed-ears princess: nobody asked for your opinion!" growled Bombur.

"Guys, stop it!" begged Bilbo.

"Besides, Fili: it is not possible to marry (Y/N)!" explained Kili.

"And why?"

"First of all, he is already married! Secondly, he is an elf from the woods. He does not belong to the mines, neither the mountain!"

"Ah, I did not think about this... Ah, I have a plan! I shall create a beautiful garden on one of the mountain plateaus!"

"Oh, so you can plant something else than a vegetable patch?" said Thranduil with irony.

"You want to fight?" screamed Oin.

All this argument created chaos that gets on the nerves of the wizard.

"CALM DOWN, ALL OF YOU!" ordered Gandalf in a booming voice.

All immediately stood silent, terrified by the charisma of Gandalf.

Once the silence fell on the room, the wizard said:

"I did not try to stop a war for enduring your silly bickerings!"

"But..." protested Thorin.

"DO NOT DARE CONTRADICTING ME!"

As for (Y/N), he decided to put an end to this mess.

He turned to Fili and declared in a soft voice:

"Fili, I would like you to listen to me carefully!"

The latter nodded, afraid of the answer.

"I am all ears, (Y/N)."

"Fili of Erebor, I appreciate your compliments towards me because I feel they were sincere and pure. But for once and all, I am already married to the man I love more than my own life. 

I am aware that I am just a gold digger, a social climber for many royal counselors. A little nobody that does not deserves to wear the crown of Mirkwood. But do I care? No. 

Because all the elven people love me, Legolas helped me, and my husband would never let me go. It is more than enough for me..."

Fili sighed.

"And to say I was thrilled to introduce you to Mum. I am sure she would love you!"

"I have no doubt. But I belong to Mirkwood and his king, against all odds."

"Besides, I am sure that Mother would surely want you alive and not beheaded by a MAD ELF KING because you try to steal him his husband, you jackass!" replied Kili, fed up with his brother's shenanigans.

"Anyway, we sorted this story, and there is nothing to worry about!" wisely said Gandalf.

"I hope so..." coldly stated Thranduil.

A few hours later, the dwarves and the Elvenking managed to find some common ground. Then, Thorin and his company went back to their kingdom, followed by Gandalf and Bilbo.

As he nearly walked out of the door, Fili shouted to (Y/N):

"Dear (Y/N), if one day you come to Erebor, I promise I will show you the garden I create for you. I keep my words!"

"I can't wait to see it, dear Fili!" smirked the king consort of Mirkwood.

Once the delegation left, Thranduil sighed and said:

"Finally, they're gone! I swear to the moon that those dwarves would kill me!"

"Well, you managed to survive. Speaking of surviving, I am surprised that you did not kill Fili on the spot!"

"My dear daffodil, you have no idea how much I wanted to cut off his head!"

Amused by this fit of jealousy, (Y/N) asked:

"But you know I would never leave you, right?"

The Elvenking gently smiled and held the hand of his husband.

"No doubt about you shall ever cross my mind, dear.I know you will never leave me."

He gently kissed (Y/N)'s hand before the pair exited the room. 

On their way, the king asked:

"Now, my waterlily, could you tell me the names of my royal counselors who disrespected you? I think I might need to have a little conversation with them..."

"I assure you, Thranduil, there is no need..."

Thranduil gently shushed his consort by putting his finger on (Y/N)'s lips.

"I have to do it, my love. After all, no one dares to be rude towards the King's precious gem without suffering consequences!"

Slightly blushing, (Y/N) smiled at this compliment. 

And as they went to the dining room, (Y/N) felt like something new arrived in Mirkwood. He believed that one day, the court would not look at him as (Y/N) the little nobody with a crown, but as (Y/N) of Mirkwood, the king consort of this kingdom and the King's precious gem. 

Long live the kings...

Thanks for the reading!

I hope you enjoy the story and I can’t wait to see future requests!

See you soon and take care! 😘🥰😍

[buglife]

Bend and Not Break - Ch 1: A Mark

Anonymous said: Not sure if someone has requested this yet, but I’d love to see how the cast would react to an assassin coming after Ghost or Quirrel. I mean, there’s gotta be some bugs out there who don’t adore the new sovereigns right?

Anonymous said: If your still doing these (if not I’m really sorry and please just ignore me) may I request 17: “Ok, well… Fuck.” With Quirrel and Ghost being his knight in shining armour.

Read here on AO3 :3

Quirrel looked in the mirror, sighing to himself as he regarded his reflection. He was due to make a public appearance today along with Ghost, so he had to look the part of a King. He still didn’t feel much like a king, not really. He felt more like he did when he was helping his mother run the archives, which was a lot of running around and keeping people from losing their fingers to explosives. It wasn’t all about preventing disasters, it was also about fostering the love of learning and the curiosity that makes society better. So in a way...he felt the same now as he did then. There was more paperwork, of course, but he was happy. It helped that he had a spouse to share the load with.

He fiddled with the ring on his left hand, the pale ore gleaming in the light. It had been made from Ghost’s old nail, with them having a matching ring. They had long since outgrown the old nail, and most of it was used in making the pure nail he now carried. Still, it was something special that their rings were made with the metal that helped kill a god and started the rebirth of Hallownest. Smith and Sheo were absolutely delighted to work on them, and now the both of them had completely unique nails and rings that will probably last forever.

Today was going to be a rather emotional day for Ghost. He remembered them telling him snippets about the Soul Sanctum here and there. They could only mention what they were comfortable talking about, and it wasn’t much of it that qualified as such. Sometime during their journey to end the infection, they had entered the Soul Sanctum and put down the mad scientist within along with his equally mad followers. Grandeurs of immortality and power was enough to corrupt any bug, but from what he heard, the ones involved went far beyond corruption. It was evil. Pure evil. Ghost usually stopped talking at around that point, and Quirrel found himself cuddling them as they sought comfort to ease what they cannot forget.

The worst day perhaps, was when the Kingdom had established themselves enough to expand beyond bare necessities. As soon as the funds was available, Ghost had the Soul Sanctum completely stripped down to the bare walls and floors. They had gone that day to oversee it all and when they returned, they could barely hold themselves together. They spent the night crying, mourning the lives lost in the pursuit of power. They had given the dead within rest, but it still destroyed them on the inside to have to return to that place. Quirrel did his best to help, and many a sleepless night was spent together, attempting to heal deep wounds within.

They had recovered, in time. Stripping the place had done a lot to help them move on from the experience, and they had decided to turn it into something new. Something useful that would help bugs and not harm them. Something that promoted life, not take them away.

Its where they were going today, to officially open it up to the public. Quirrel would be there not only as a fellow ruler, but as support for Ghost. Despite it all, it was going to be hard for them.

Quirrel smoothed back his antenna and tied his silk kerchief around his head. It was a necessary habit he picked up while growing up with his mother. After burning his antenna one too many times due to splashes of acid or a chemical reaction gone wrong, he tended to pin them back. They got in the way sometimes, but once in a while he felt safe enough to let them out. The palace didn’t really have acid, or volatile chemicals, but old habits die hard.

He clipped on his cloak, letting the study fabric fall around his shoulders as he pinned it in place. It was a lovely blue, nearly iridescent, and clasped with a pale ore brooch that designated him as king. There was no way he could ever bring himself to wear something as tacky as a crown. Hell, Ghost wouldn’t even be able to fit one on their head. Instead, brooches seemed to fit a whole lot better.

Once he made sure his nail was strapped to his side, he deemed himself ready, and exited the room - only to nearly smack into his spouse, who was opening the door at the same time.

“Oof!” Running into Ghost wasn’t as fun as it was when they were little. Back then their shell was soft and kinda squishy like any other grub. But once stasis ended and they caught up on all their missed molts, their chitin had become tough and hard.

“Are you alright?” Ghost’s telepathy was soft and gently breezed by his mind. It’s just something gods could do, apparently. Their sire could, Quirrel knew that as a fact, but the fact they also ate a god boosted their ability to communicate without relying on sign language. They only ‘spoke’ like this to family and friends, a little too nervous to use it on the public. Quirrel hoped that would change with time.

He didn’t blame them, though. They were terrified of being considered scary. They were certainly imposing, but not as much as their sibling, Hollow. There were those that will always be scared of them, with them being a god and immensely powerful. But enough of their subjects loved them enough to not care. He just wished they could see it. Quirrel considered them handsome and cute, but then again, he was biased.

“I’m okay love, I was about to go and find you.” Quirrel smoothed down the front of his cloak and picked at Ghosts, adjusting it around a little. “It’s nearly time.”

Ghost was silent for a moment, and then leaned down to softly bonk their forehead against theirs. “I know.”

“You’ll be fine. That place doesn’t exist anymore.” He did his best to soothe any lingering nerves. Being around Ghost for so long as alerted him to their various tells. “It’s a better place now. Much better.”

They nodded slowly and let out a deep breath. “You are right. It is just hard to let go of what it was.”

“I understand, it will take a while, but you are doing great.” Quirrel took Ghost’s claws in his and gently squeezed. “Come along then, we don’t want to be late to the dedication.”

Ghost tilted their mask up in a smile, and then nodded. They bent down to steal a quick kiss, one that Quirrel returned, and together, they headed to the Stag Station.

----

The Capital was bustling, like always. It no longer was the City of Tears, not with the new revitalization of Hallownest. The rain had been stopped, redirected with new plant life growing on the ceiling. Lurien himself helped renew the spells that kept the water from outright pouring out of the lake above. Without being constantly rained on, more bugs were out and about. Today however, they were gathering in front of what used to be the Soul Sanctum, waiting around a platform where their rulers would be giving a speech. Most bugs were eager to enter the newly renovated building, because it was for them, and them alone.

The Soul Sanctum, which had brought so much death and misery to so many lives, had been converted into a multi-level communal greenhouse. There, farmer bugs would grow a verity of food, which is then free to be picked and used by the public. Taxes from the upper members of society will be used to keep the place running. That way, no bug would have to go hungry. The intimidating and Gothic architecture of the building had been transformed into a pillar of glass and green. It was now friendly, the oppressive air from before banished into a place of shelter. Not only could you go there to eat, but you can go there to rest among some of the floors dedicated to flowers. It was a gift, from the rulers of New Hallownest to the people, and the people were waiting to be allowed in to enjoy it.

The five new knights of Hallownest stood in various places around the crowd. So far, they didn’t need to do much but remind some citizens to calm down and not crowd each other. With Xena on her beast (named Pickles, but only she can call them that), it was easy to keep everyone in line. Cloth stole a quick moment to wave to Myla in the crowd, temporarily breaking protocol, but it wasn’t like Tiso was going to scold her for that, since he did the same thing. Once he finished his quick wave to his other date friend, he scanned the crowd and recognizing a few folks from Dirtmouth as well. A lot of people showed up to this dedication, hell, he even spotted a few spiders and bees in the crowd. It just made him scan the crowd more thoroughly. Threats could come from anywhere, and he took security very seriously.

It wasn’t long before he spotted the Kings approach the platform and climb on, waiting for the crowds cheering to die down before they began the ceremony. Quirrel was doing the speaking today, Ghost standing beside them and holding his hand. Tiso remembered when Ghost was small enough to pick up and throw. It was lots of fun, but now they were too big for that. Oh well. As soon as the crowd’s noise died down, Quirrel tapped a speaking stone on the provided podium and his voice was projected outwards to be heard by everyone.

“Hello to you all, our dear subjects. Today we continue to do our very best to provide for you, our people, whom we dearly love and cherish. This site was a place of tragedy, and pain, part of the past of old Hallownest that was rife with corruption and oversight. But today we have washed away the dark and terrible past, to bring in the new, which is full of hope and life. We have -”

Quirrel had always been a good speaker. But Tiso wasn’t here to hear a speech. He heard it before, when Quirrel had asked him and his fellow knights to hear it and give honest feedback. Tiso had suggested Quirrel get to the damn point because nobody liked just standing around, so he thankfully cut the speech down by half.

There were bugs everywhere. Bugs in the square, bugs that could climb were hanging on buildings, bugs looking out windows, bugs on roofs, everywhere. Tiso scanned them all, eyes narrowed. It was no lie that there were bugs out there who didn’t agree with the direction the new government was taking, especially having another god as a ruler. Ghost and Quirrel had managed to piss off the right people. They were the folks that enjoyed profiting by gaming the system, and that system came tumbling down once Ghost claimed the throne. It got even worse when they married Quirrel, who was scarily smart. Quickly it became obvious that nobody was going to get away with old hustles anymore.

Quirrel continued talking, and Tiso continued watching. Then, something caught his eye. A glint of metal shined on one of the rooftops, a figure crouched down behind it. The glint moved, and Tiso’s heart went cold.

“GET DOWN!”  He shouted, and with a heft, threw his shield as hard as he could. Bugs instantly dropped to the ground and the knights gathered to the podium. The shield whistled through the air, and with a satisfying clunk, impacted the bug on the roof. There was a brief shout of pain, and then came the thwip as a crossbow bolt lodged itself in the podium. It was obviously aimed for the pillbug’s head, and it missed him by scant inches. Someone in the crowd screamed and it started a chain reaction of panic. Cloth and Ogrim took crowd duty, ushering the crowd into nearby buildings to get them off the streets and away from the danger.

Xena was already heading up to the roof atop her beast, the creature climbing up the sides with frightening speed. Tiso flashed his soul and recalled his shield, just in time to hear the bug on the roof start screaming once the beast reached it’s fanged maw out and grabbed them. He trusted Xena to keep at least enough of them alive for questioning later.

To add more chaos to the mix, some bugs in the crowd dropped their cloaks, revealing nails, and rushed the podium.

“No more gods! No more masters!” Some of them shouted. The sentiment was echoed by the other assassins as they parted through the crowd, not caring about who they knocked over or trampled in their haste. Bugs continued to scream, struggling to get out of the way as some were simply tossed aside to make way. Tiso could hear grubs wailing and the sharp clang of metal as some of the bugs in the crowd took up their own nails. They were valiantly trying to hold back the assassins, who cruelly cut them down and left them to bleed out. Thankfully medics were among the guards, and they quickly raced out to try and save the injured civilians.

So this was a coordinated assassination attempt, usually they were done by singular bugs. They must have gotten a little smarter. Tiso was about to jump into the fray, only to hold back when Hollow sped past him and body checked an assassin so hard that he could hear the chitin cracking from where he stood. Ouch.  He let Hollow do their thing and barked out orders to his guardsmen. They had to get everything under control, and fast.

However, the Kings of Hallownest were no pushovers. Quirrel practically teleported, moving with an insane amount of speed to kill an assassin with a flash of their nail. Since the crossbow bolt was aimed at him, Ghost was especially pissed. They were trying their best to not change into their true, terrifying form and completely destroy the square they worked so hard to rebuild. Judging by the extra three pairs of eyes that opened on their mask, they were barely holding on. Tiso did not blame them.

One assassin got lucky, moving at just the right time to scratch their nail along Quirrel’s side. He let out a hiss of pain and leapt backwards, ignoring the wound for now. He moved to retaliate, only to see said assassin become a smear of hemolymph on the platform. He glanced up to see an absolutely furious Ghost retract a void tentacle back into their body, still coated in a thin sheen of gore.

“Are you okay?” Ghost’s mental voice was now tight, louder. Quirrel could hear the rumbling of the void in behind, overlapping as the power of a god began to leak through Ghost’s control.

“Yes dear, just a scratch.” Quirrel sidestepped another assassin, bringing his nail around to cleanly slice off their nail arm. The assassin screamed, now missing an arm, and was quickly grabbed by Ghost and slammed bodily into the ground. Ghost then proceeded to kick them into the nearest building, cracking the stone slightly and leaving said bug a quivering mess.

As quickly as it all began, it was over. In total there were eight assassins. Three were outright dead, most due to Ghost. The rest were maimed and beaten bloody, but were alive. They weren’t too sure if the ones Hollow got to would survive or not. Either way, they weren’t going to get out of the situation alive, either by the executioner’s axe or dying from their wounds. Tiso had ordered the spare guard out, and there was a city wide search for more conspirators. There was no way to tell how many were out there, at least, until the prisoners were questioned. Something Tiso was going to enjoy doing so very much.

Ghost was panting, trying to calm down after losing their control for the bare moments it took for the fight to finish. Quirrel shivered, also breathing heavily. Adrenaline was surging through his body still and he doubted he’d be able to calm down anytime soon. Ghost had grabbed him, holding him tight as they too, shook. For a being designed to have no emotions, Ghost sure wore theirs on their sleeve, frantically patting Quirrel down for injuries. He knew what they were afraid of, and he stopped their hands with his to prevent their anxiety from taking over their rational thought.

“I’m okay love, it’s just a scratch.” He had time to look at his wound, bleeding blue. It wasn’t even terribly deep. It would just need some cleaning and some shell paste. If anything, it was making a mess of his cloak. The cleaners were going to have an absolute fit about it. He sighed as Ghost moved their hands to the wound, clearly worried.

“Your Majesties!” Ogrim hurried over. “Are you okay?”

“We’re fine, thank you. What of the assassins'?” Quirrel again, moved his hands to hold Ghost’s as he listened to Ogrim.

“Captured. We have guards scouring the city for anything suspicious.” The dung beetle looked about the now empty square, watching the assassins that were dead being dragged away. “Tiso and Xena are going to head an investigation once they interrogate-”

Ghost whistled, stopping Ogrims words. “I will interrogate them.”

“Your majesty, are you sure, you-”

“I am very sure.” They had since hunched protectively over Quirrel, arms like a gate around him. The malice in their 'voice' wasn't hard to miss, something Ogrim picked up on. He was always able to pick out the tiniest of details.

Ogrim bowed his head, but spoke plainly. “With all due respect, as your knight, and as your friend, I urge you to at least let the captain and his lieutenant do their job first before you decide to do anything.”

“Ogrim is right, love.” Quirrel reached up to cup Ghost’s cheek, hand oddly feeling weak. Perhaps he was still worked up? He started feeling a little dizzy, maybe he needed somewhere quiet to de-stress for a little while. He wouldn't mind retreating back to their bedroom to cuddle for a while. That should be able to do the trick nicely. Still, he continued with his advice. “You are too worked up right now. You need to calm down first. We both do.”

Ghost shook for a moment, and then took a few deep breaths. “Okay. Please tell Tiso and Xena to get as much from the prisoners as they can. I will be there shortly.”

Ogrim nodded. “Of course, Cloth and Hollow will be here soon and they will be able to escort you back to the palace.”

Quirrel started to say something and then was hit by a sudden wave of light headedness. He grabbed onto Ghost’s arm to steady himself as he momentarily lost feeling in his legs.

Ogrim and Ghost noticed that for sure. “Your majesty?” Ogrim questioned, reaching out a claw to offer support.

“No no- I’m fine...I’m..” The world twisted and a spike of pain and nausea punctured his gut. He suddenly couldn’t tell which way was up or down anymore. His legs gave out and through an increasing and concerning wave of numbness, he felt himself being caught.

“QUIRREL!!”  The mental shout was loud, and with it came more noises he couldn’t quite make out.

Ok, well… fuck.” The pain seemed to get worse, now a burning sensation that spread from the wound on his side to the very core of his body. His lungs hurt. His heart hurt. A disturbing wave of pain twisted around his limbs and went right into his brain. It suddenly got more difficult to breathe as he clutched his spouse with his claws.

He was dimly aware of someone screaming desperately, echoing around his head as he lost the ability to understand it, he was too busy gasping for breath.

The noises blended together until finally, there was nothing but darkness.

-----

“In you go, ya fucker.” Tiso not so gently tossed one assassin, a particularly nasty looking cricket, onto the stone floor of the dungeon cell. They had given just the bare amount of medical care necessary to keep them alive. The worst injury was the stump where their nail arm used to be, cleanly cut in half by the biggest nerd in the kingdom. “This’ll be your new home for a while, but it can get a little nicer if you decide to talk.”

“It won’t make any difference,” The cricket spat a wad of hemo on the floor. “I’m dead anyway.”

“True…” Tiso mused, leaning on the bars to stare the other bug right in the eyes. “But would you rather prefer a quick death, or being dragged kicking and screaming into the void? Cause let me tell you, I’d rather take a beheading over that. That shit is fucked up.”

“Typical of a tyrant.”

“You seriously calling the squirt and the nerd tyrants? I mean, they literally were about to open a public greenhouse so that everyone can eat before you idiots crashed it.” Tiso tapped his shield against the bars, making the metal ting in the most annoying way possible. He absolutely loved messing with prisoners like that, it made them slip up more often than not. Tiso learned more from pissing off the prisoners than he ever did 'nicely' interrogating them. “I don't know about you, but that don’t sound like tyrants to me.”

“All gods, are tyrants.” The doomed assassin moved to sit up, resting their back against the cold stone walls. Their movements were awkward, now that they were missing an arm. “The Pale King was. The Radiance was. Even the White Lady. Now we have an even more powerful tyrant as our king! We can’t keep letting ourselves become playthings for monsters!”

“Call them a monster one more time and I’ll feed ya to Xena’s beast, and the beast chews slowly.” Tiso narrowed his eyes at the bug on the other side of the bars. He could roughly hear the other prisoners being tossed in their cells as well. Judging by the echoes, they were spouting the same nonsense and getting zero sympathy for it. “You’re a fucking idiot, you think you can just kill our Kings like that? King Ghost killed the Radiance, for fucks sake!”

The cricket smiled through their broken mandibles, dribbling hemo over their cloak. “No, we can’t kill the tyrant, but we can hurt them.”

Tiso stared, shocked by the words. A very bad feeling sat in his gut, and was quickly vindicated when Cloth rounded the corner.

“Tiso!” she shouted. “It’s Quirrel!”

“Yeah?” The bad feeling grew stronger and he desperately prayed to whatever was listening, that the next words out of his love's mouth wasn’t going to be bad news.

“Quirrel...he's...He’s been poisoned!”

Tiso’s world went numb, and all he could hear was the insane laughter of the prisoner behind him.

[theodora3022]

After a long day

Scenario: After a tiring day at work, your husband/boyfriend decides to comfort you in their own ways.

Warning: fluff, self indulgent situations(I just want cuddles from my favorite boys okay)

Tamaki Amajiki(BNHA)

When you collapse on the couch after a day of grueling hero work, Tamaki knows he has to do something for you. Despite being exhausted from work as well, he cannot just let you be.

“I’ll order takeout, dear. You don’t have to cook dinner...” Presenting you the new bath foams he picked up on his way home, Tamaki leaves you to relax after making sure the tub is filled with steamy water.

He is not as terrified of human interactions as his younger self, but still prefer to stay away from them. However, if speaking with a stranger means his love gets some more rest, Tamaki would definitely do it.

After dinner, Tamaki would have you snuggle with him, whether it be in bed or the couch. Watching movies under tick blankets does not sound so bad either.

With the warm embrace of this ravenette, all of your exhaustion melt to ashes as soon as you lean against his chest. “Tamaki-san, love you!” You would leave affectionate kisses on his flushed cheeks, giggle when he blushes.

Hitoshi Shinsou(BNHA)

You would be greeted with a delicious meal when you come home! Shinsou’s work is not as demanding as yours, therefore he can be home early and cook you a tasty dinner to mend your mind after a day of hard work.

Whether you have been with him long or not, the sight of his dishes never cease you delight you.

“Toshi, it smells amazing!!” You exclaim as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I bet it tastes amazing too.” The cats would also greet you at the door, rubbing their chin around your ankles as their welcomes.

Oh, how you love seeing him in an apron. With kitty prints no less.

His culinary skills are getting better everyday, but you are willing to eat anything he made. Even if at the very beginning they taste like a mixture of ash and flour.

You would talk about your days, laughing at your coworkers’ stupidity.

You two would take turns messaging each other’s shoulders while watching stupid cat videos(although you have like seven cats already). Brushing the cats too!

At the end you would wrap your arms around him yawning and demand him to carry you to the bed, like a willful little girl. Hitoshi would comply, of course.

He never felt happier when he lay next to you, only frowning when you took most of the blanket for yourself.

Tibarn(Fire emblem Radiant Dawn)

This is for my bird thirst that cannot seem to leave me alone recently. Radiant dawn made furries hot what-

If you are only here for BNHA, feel free to skip these fire emblem thirsts.

(I am writing the reader as a Laguz because I do not want Tibarn to lose his hawk power, a bird species like heron maybe?)

I know I am a furry okay

As the King and Queen of Phoenicis, you two are quite busy during the day. Him going on patrols and you dealing with internal affairs. By patrols, you know your beloved is raiding Begnion ships on the seas. While you disapprove of the idea of robbing innocent merchant ships, you do hold deep resentment towards the Begnion Empire just like Tibarn. How could you not, after what happened in the Serene forest?

Even though he promised to never die in hands of Beorcs, you still ramble about his safety as you two get ready for the day in the nest. Helping him getting his feathers tidy, you tell your Hawk king how he should beware of archers(For the thousand time). “Dove, I won’t go dying on you, I promise you that. Now wish me luck!” By luck, Tibarn means a parting kiss. But if you feel grumpy or you two had a fight last night, he will not be getting any.

However, no matter which mood you are in, you would always anticipate his returns in the afternoon.

Your ladies in waiting are used to this, they would do a job to keep you from zoning out when you turn your gaze towards the shore. They would giggle and remind you the duties at hand.

When Tibarn returns from the seas, you are always the first one flying to him. The people of Phoenicis would look upon their sovereigns with adoration, happy that their King and Queen is so in love.

He always insists on giving you a loving kiss on the lips as soon as you rush into his embrace. “Tibarn, our people are watching!” You blush in embarrassment.

“That is my intention, I need to let them know how much I love my darling dove.” For that, you got an extra peck for today.

Although inland duties are not as tiring as flying all day, it still takes tolls on your energy. After some cold fish you would just want to stay in the nest, just lying down and let sleep claim you.

However, your tiredness would disappear as soon as Tibarn present you the treasures he pillaged today. “This ruby necklace compliments your eyes nicely, dove.” Your eyes glows at the sight of pretty jewelry and sharp weapons, and that would sooth the King’s fatigues.

Sometimes he would come back with wounds, which calls for reprimands. As you put bandages over the cuts, you would nag about how much you worried one day your “invincible” king would die from those Beorc arrows. He will never admit it, but oh how Tibarn loves hearing worrying over him like a mother to a hatchling.

“What would I do if you don’t come back?” You pout as you tie the last knot of the bandages. “ I know I would go and get revenge! Slaughter every last of those filthy beorcs of Begnion!” You hiss, and Tibarn found that absolutely adorable. You are a fine warrior; he feels awful for confining you on land so he can focus on patrolling. But he cannot ever have you in danger if he can help it.

Pulling you close with those fine muscular arms, he whispers by your ears: “Maybe you’ll be less worried if you have a flock to look after...” You blush madly, and he laugh it off. “You’re busy enough already, I’m just teasing.”

You doubt you ever felt safer when you lie on your beefy husband’s bare chest, his big wings wrapping around you like soft blankets. Those wings feared by so many are your dearest salvation, you would never grow tire at the sight of those feathers.

[mojofun]

Blackmail Material (Loki x Reader)

Hello there. This is for @dearspacepirates​​; the prompt was “Can you stop being you for one second? You’re so… Irritating. Yes, that’s what I wanted to say”. It’s part of my small celebration for hitting 100 followers, which I’m still thrilled about; I met so many nice people here on Tumblr.

That being said, the request thing is still on if anyone wants to participate.

This story is fluff

Keep calm, Y/N, you can do this.

A few hours without making a fool of yourself should be easy enough, right?

The female slowly moved her eyes to the left, sneaking a peek before snapping her head in the other direction so fast she was amazed she didn’t get a whiplash

Easier said than done, Y/N mused, sighing for what felt like the hundredth time.

He was there; she could feel it.

Loki.

The damned, way-too-tall demigod was making her feel things she absolutely did not want to feel. Every time they were in each other’s company, she turned into a flustered mess and embarrassed herself.

But she couldn’t help it: witty, clever, mischievous enough to keep her intrigued; besides, they shared so many interests and had similar tastes…

It didn’t help that he was so handsome.

Her cheeks flamed up at the thought. She burrowed her head further in the book, hoping he wouldn’t notice her furtive glances.

There he was, sitting on the couch with a cup of tea and a book in his lap, on a rare quiet day at the tower. They read together often, though Loki always finished the book before Y/N did, for whatever reason…

*Cough* She has a crush *cough*

                           _________________________________________

The young woman fell to her knees in front of the thrones, the fetters around her wrists clinking against the stone floor of the place. A few feet from her, the couple of sovereigns looked at her with very different expressions: the Queen’s face reflected her pity, her concern, while the king showed no…

A grunt of frustration left her lips when she lost track of the words again.

Concentration was eluding her that day- as always. And there was only one person to blame

<<Y/N?>>

Speaking of which.

The girl jumped, abruptly pulled from her musings. When she turned to look at him, she found him way closer than she would have expected.

Her blush worsened

I probably look like a tomato right now

<<Darling?>>

<<Yes, Loki?>> She tried to sound spontaneous, but failed miserably.

Damn him and that voice of his

<<Are you ok, my dear?>> He asked, scooting even closer

<<Uh, yeah. I just… I’m annoyed at Cordelia’s fiancé for being so blind: it’s obvious she didn’t betray them>>

The black-haired man cackled, brushing a strand of hair out of her face

<<You always get so involved in the stories you read>>

The girl chuckled uneasily, pushing his hand away

<<Yeah, that’s true>>

He simply touched her cheek with the other hand, smiling softly

<<I find it fascinating>>

<<Sure you do>> She tried, swatting his hand away again.

Her heart beat so loudly she was sure she could feel it, and her cheeks were probably scarlet at that point.

He continued to caress her cheeks for a while, chortling slightly whenever she tried to make him stop

<<Loki>>

<<Yes, darling>>

<<Quit doing this>>

<<Why?>>

<<Because>>

<<That’s not a valid reason. Why shouldn’t I, darling>>

<<Because>> She repeated with more force, still getting nowhere.

The Norse demigod snorted, shaking his head

<<You know, you->>

At that point, she couldn’t take it anymore

<<Can you stop being you for one second?>> Y/N exploded, standing up suddenly <<You’re so…>>

Loki stood up too. He obviously towered over her, but she kept her glare in place, to his amusement

<<So what, my dear?>>

<<So irritating>>

<<Hm… Really?>>

<<Yes, that’s what I wanted to say>>

He came closer

<<I don’t believe you>>

He stepped even closer. Every time she retroceded he took a step forward, until she ended up against the wall

<<But->>

<<No, darling>> He insisted, smiling deviously <<I don’t believe you>>

<<That’s what I mea->>

The words died on her lips.

He kissed her.

Is he kissing me? Oh shit, he’s kissing me. Loki is kissing me!

The young woman was paralysed. The taller man pulled away, caressing her cheek again

<<Y/N? Are you ok?>>

<<Wha- Why- Wha->>

<<I’ve been meaning to do that for a while, darling. I was just waiting for you to admit that you fancy me>>

Y/N’s eyes widened

<<I fancy you?>>

<<Don’t lie to me, my dear. I am the god of lies, after all.

Why did you never say anything?>>

At that Y/N turned away, not wanting to look at him; she swatted his fingers away when he tried to cup her chin. This time, he let her: there was obviously something bothering her

<<Darling, it’s ok. I was just wonderi->>

<<I don’t think I’m good enough>> The girl blurted, making him raise his eyebrows

<<What?>>

<<I don’t… Think… That I’m… Good enough>>

<<Why would you think that?>>

<<Oh come on Loki, look at you>> She snorted <<You’re a demigod, you’re tall, you’re fit, you’re handsome and I… I’m just… Me>> Y/N sighed, lowering her gaze.

What she didn’t expect was for him to cradle her face in his hands and press another kiss to her lips, looking her in the eyes when he pulled away

<<You are enough, Y/N. More than enough.

You’re so much more than I deserve, and yet you have… Feelings… For me>>

<<Yes>> She admitted shyly.

 The smile on his face was entirely worth it

<<Well, darling, what do you say I take you on a date tonight?>>

<<YES!>> The cry left her lips before she could stop it. Blushing some more, she bit her lip and tried to salvage the situation <<I mean yeah, sure>>

The demigod laughed

<<You are adorable, Y/N>>

Pecking her lips again, he took her hand and guided her to the couch, so they could read some more together

<<Loki?>>

<<Yes, dear?>>

<<We’re not telling the others, right?>>

<<Absolutely not; we’d never hear the end of it>>

<<Agreed>> Y/N beamed, nestling in his arms.

Too bad neither of them remembered the tower was littered with cameras.

                          _________________________________________

<<Jarvis, add this to the blackmail material>>

<<Right on it, sir>>

[inkblotsandeggshells]

Sorcerers and Sorceresses

Hello again!

After talking with my friend about it, I decided I still had some more to say about sex addiction. Clearly, we’re being pushed to this way of being by our modern culture, but I also notice this coming from the holistic New Age community. The most obvious example, in this regard, would be holistic sex coach Kim Anami, who I talked about in my last post. In contrast to the standard, faster kind of sex that gets referenced in movies and music, Kim Anami wants to teach people to use slower, orgasmic sex as a means to harness energy, which can be utilized to help improve your life. However, Anami claims that this level of personal control through sex cannot be achieved until you become addicted to it. While I can see the appeal for this kind of education, I remained pretty indifferent until I looked deeper into what happens when we fall prey to addictions.

When I was younger, I had thought that things like alcohol and recreational drugs were the things that led to addictions, and as long as you stayed away from those things, you were in the clear. However, we often overlook things like electronics and artificial foods like candy, which can be just as addictive as the more typical harmful substances. In regards to sex, I think it sounds like an attractive thing to be addicted to because it doesn’t necessarily harm your body or cause your teeth to decay. Even so, by becoming addicted to any substance, including orgasmic sex, it can chip away at our identities little by little until we become, as Michael Knowles says, enslaved. We become dependent on it to cope with life and it ends up controlling how we respond to our human experience. Furthermore, an addiction of any kind leaves us vulnerable to be controlled by outside forces.

This is something I became more aware of last year, during a time when I learned how easily people can be used by unseen beings when they relinquish control of themselves. One content creator who gave me a new perspective on this is a young woman named Galatea Van Outersterp, who created the YouTube channel called the Authentic Observer. Even though she creates content about storytelling and fictional works, I think she offers a refreshing perspective on what it looks like when something or someone strives to control the collective. In this way, she also raises the question of how much power we have to resist. She does this through her videos, the primary examples being her two-part video series about the story archetypes of the Sorcerer and the Sorceress. She describes these archetypes as two sides of the same coin. They both aim for absolute power and control, but they work to achieve those goals through different realms of humanity. The sorcerer is the yang aspect of this archetype that focuses on the external realm: the physical plane, the conscious and will. The sorceress is the yin aspect that focuses on the internal realm: the emotional plane, and the subconscious.

We’ll start with the sorcerer archetype. In her opinion, Galatea states that if a character has most, if not all, of these traits, then they can be defined as an evil sorcerer. These traits are as follows: They can see all, or they have eyes everywhere. They manipulate the events of the protagonist and the people around him/her to get the hero to certain places or people. They are extremely arrogant and have massive egos (which can also be their downfall). As a result of this arrogance, they often have a title, because they’re a recognized authority; they also have many followers. They have often given up something essential to humanity to gain their power, whether it’s their soul or just their morality. They often have a non-human physical form, or some kind of deformity to show their loss of humanity. Most importantly, they only desire for power and control, “power above all.”

In regards to Kim Anami teaching students to utilize BDSM in the “Well-F*cked Woman” course, she would frequently use the book “50 Shades of Grey” as a reference for this method and its alleged importance. In some of her stories, she also talks about how some of the men she has been most drawn to in the past are “smarter versions of Christian Grey.” According to Galatea, the way the sorcerer archetype is used in modern day stories is by portraying those archetypal traits through characters like abusive partners. In other words, characters like Christian Grey are definitions of this very archetype.

For example, Galatea lists off the traits of the sorcerer that Mr. Grey exhibits in the books. She observed that “he has a beyond normal ability to know what Anastasia is doing all the time because he stalks her and hacks into her phone. He manipulates not only her, but he’s also a powerful enough to manipulate events and the people around her to get her where he wants her. He’s arrogant in the extreme and believes he’s superior and has the absolute right to exert dominance over the people around him. This is particularly the case for Anastasia, as he wants her to sign his contract against her will. He’s a figure of authority and has many followers (his employees). He has also given up something essential to his humanity to gain his power: the ability to be a good person, respect others, and have healthy relationships. Finally, above everything else, all he wants is total power and control, both of his own world and of Anastasia.”

In contrast, the sorceress archetype primarily rules the internal domain. While this archetype shares similar traits with the sorcerer, Galatea describes the sorceress as primarily wanting to be adored. They use emotions and temptations rather than blatant orders and force. They are also represented by “complete and unbalanced chaos, hysteria, unpredictability and insanity.” They understand people’s deepest desires and control them by dangling these things in front of their faces. This point also gets highlighted in Galatea’s video, where she would describe sorceresses “to generally work more through an understanding of people, through intuition, really understanding people’s deepest desires.”

So the big question is how does the holistic sex practice of Kim Anami relate to the topic of being vulnerable to someone else’s control? How does this topic of orgasmic sex addictions, or addictions of any kind, relate to the archetypes of sorcerers and sorceresses? The purpose of the sorcerer and the sorceress is to show that “absolute power corrupts absolutely.” Whether addictions play a role in our lives or not, when we lose the ability to think for ourselves and take control of our response to life, we become susceptible to being controlled by beings such as these. If being “well-f*cked” means becoming attracted to men like this, or even, God forbid, marrying someone like this, than I would rather not reach such a standard at all.

During my conversations about the “Well-F*cked Woman” course with Lee Yun, I often wondered if Kim Anami herself was a sorceress in some ways. In my opinion, it seems that Kim does exhibit a few of the traits: she has hundreds, if not thousands of followers (her clients and coaches-in-training), and you could argue that she gave up part of her humanity through the use of neural therapy injections to change how her body responds to trauma. She sometimes demonstrates arrogant behavior in how she disrespects her partner’s boundaries and openly insults people who are unlike her or think differently from her. In my opinion, she also works within the emotional plane through her marketing strategies to get people to take her courses, buy her tools and practice her methods. Her philosophy in becoming “well-f*cked” feels very confusing, with some conflicting teachings, which you could argue is a reflection of the sorceress’ inclination for chaos. In my previous blog, I explained how this is further demonstrated in her marketing tactics, especially during 2020 when people felt lonelier and desperate for contact during lockdown. In her podcasts, Kim states that the point of her courses isn’t necessarily to use sexual energy to get whatever you want. However, this statement feels very contradictory when you observe how she teaches and how she speaks of her relationships with her partners.

In a different way than the sorcerer archetype, Galatea observes that the sorceress is almost the scarier of the two. Galatea explains that “the truest kind of freedom is freedom over your heart and mind. No one can truly own you if you at least have that, if you’re at least free in your own heart, mind, body and soul. The sorceress wants to take that freedom away. If you aren’t sovereign over yourself, then you don’t have freedom at all, because the sorceress is a jealous mistress, and you can be damn sure she will not allow any room in your heart or mind for anyone but her.”

To conclude, I want to share some quotes from the book “The 21 Lessons of Merlyn” by Douglas Monroe. Since the system of Celtic magic seems to be what I’m naturally inclined to, this is one of first the books Lee Yun recommended for my studies as a witch. Even though the teachings in the book sound outdated for our time, some passages intrigued me in regards to how the Druidic community viewed sex. Specifically, Monroe explains, through his characters, how using sex for gaining power isn’t admired at all among the druids. He states that “the world is full of those who pretend to use sexual union as an instrument of spiritual gain under the guises of ‘soul-love, true fulfillment, destiny’, and many other romanticized notions. But such could never be the case outside of their own minds, as this purely animal behavior belongs to another world altogether, a world that minds such as these cannot pretend to change by wishing it were so.” He goes on to add that “against truth, these people will continue to say that lust elevates them into the world of Magic along with their pleasure; that sex generates a force which may be turned to loftier things. They will continue to confuse the spiritual with the physical, for the sake of convenience.”

By encouraging us to become addicted to orgasmic sex, it seems very likely that the kind of freedom and “healing” Kim Anami offers comes with a serious price. Do I think she herself is a sorceress? I don’t know. She may be one, but I don’t know. Because they work in the subconscious and in the unseen realms, sorceresses can be much more difficult to spot than their male counterparts. However, in my opinion, if she won’t step in to control the collective through addictions—even holistic, orgasmic sex addictions—then someone will. So I encourage you to not give up that inner freedom so easily, because that’s where our real power lies.

[tawakkull]

Spirituality in islam: Khushu and Hurma (Reverent Awe and Respect)

It is a significant attainment and Divine favor that one is able to utterly annihilate themselves in respect of their carnality and egotism and traverses the distance originating in oneself and realizes “meeting with God” and “intimacy with Him.” However, it should not be overlooked that like all attainments, this may have certain negative effects on human faculties, for this horizon is the horizon where the dazzling signs of the most transcending and deepest meanings and metaphysical mysteries beyond all sight, hearing, imagination, and conception become completely manifested. Those who have reached this peak can neither discern nor discriminate between the things and events that they have so far seen, heard, and have come to know, nor conclude true judgments concerning them. Therefore, just as it is possible for someone in this state to fall into confusion, so too it is almost inevitable that they make some utterances which are not in compliance with reality. Even though those who seek refuge in the gracious assistance of God Almighty in every step and perceive safety and salvation as being found in dependence on the way of the master of creation, upon him be peace and blessings, are an exception, this risk has always been present. For when the Absolute Sovereign, Who has the absolute right to be “seen,” heard, recognized, known and mentioned, makes Himself felt wholly with His nearness, meeting and intimacy, everyone whose capacity and subconscious have not been perfected with the attitudes such as heart-felt veneration and reverent awe finds themselves left powerless to remain as themselves or to express themselves in a rational manner. Since those who have reached such a peak always live in intoxication in parallel with the height of their line of perfection, they frequently act led by these instinctive sensations and cannot discriminate their right hand from their left nor their front from their back.

In such an unusual state, those who are by nature open to intoxication and absorption trespass the limits drawn by the subconscious formed of good manners, respect, and reverent awe, and can go so far as to make utterances such as: “Glory be to me! How supreme my essential character is!” Some others, who only weigh the annihilation of everything in the lights of God’s Existence on the scales of the spiritual state and experience cannot help but utter: “I am the Ultimate Truth!” But it is not possible to reconcile this with the respect and manners that all must have before God Almighty. There are still others who breathe the following words, which we can regard as the expression of both the spiritual state and experience and self-possession and respect:

The space where I am has developed into no-space and there has been left no trace of me;

There is neither anything of my body nor anything of my soul;

I am from the clime of my Beloved.

I have discarded both of my eyes so that I see this world and the next fused into one single world.

What I know is one, what I see is one, what I speak of is one, what I seek is one.

Mawlana Jalalu’d-Din ar- Rumi

Still others, enchanted by the feeling of attraction, the majesty of perceiving the Divine presence, and the awe of Divine manifestations, speak as follows in the intoxication of the wine of love:

A call has come to me from the Ultimate Truth:

“Come, O lover, you are intimate with Us!

This is the place of intimacy;

I have found you a faithful one!”

The place where I am has developed into no-space;

This body of mine has wholly become a soul;

God’s Sight has manifested Itself to me;

And I have found myself intoxicated with His meeting.

There are still others who refer to “ annihilation in God” and “ subsistence by and with God” in a relatively more sober style, thus displaying a different state according to the content of their subconscious, saying:

I have submitted whatever I had to that Friend, so I no longer have a house;

I have been liberated from everything, so I have nothing in the name of the two worlds.

For God’s love has reached me and attracted me to itself;

It has opened the eye of my heart, so I am no longer intoxicated.

Ahmedi

The saintly, purified scholars, on the other hand, such as Junayd al-Baghdadi, who traveled in the light of the Prophetic lamp, always acted with self-possession, breathed with reverent awe, and their eyes twinkled with heart-felt veneration, without causing those who were incapable of traveling a spiritual path to fall into confusion or deviation. Some other close friends of God, such as ash-Shibli and those of a similar disposition, revealed their sensations under the influence of their nature, and caused those who had no connection with spirituality to be informed of certain secrets, thus providing an opportunity to criticize both these people and their way. However, they never behaved improperly or displayed disrespect in adherence to the essentials of the journey. As for the people of heart, such as al-Hallaj, as-Suhrawardi and Ibnu’l-Farid, although they were sincere in their love and yearning, and were favored with a certain degree of attraction and the feeling of being attracted, they were not able to act with self-possession, due to their continuous intoxication and absorption, nor to remain distant from improper utterances that would cause misunderstanding, thus laying some ground for certain reckless acts and manners.

The true heirs to the Prophetic way have always traveled in self-possession, weighing up their visions and inner sensations on the balance of the Sunna, evaluating their spiritual unveilings according to the established truths and criteria of the Religion, and doing their utmost in order not to lead the common people into confusion. While they have attached great importance to nearness to God, they also have tried to show utmost respect in their relationship with Him, and have preserved their good manners, heartfelt veneration and reverent awe. Over time, with the reflection of their heart-felt veneration and reverence in their everyday acts, behavior, and words, they have become heroes of self-possession and the representation of Islam, acting as examples for others in their relations with both the Creator and the created.

Their hearts, where their perception of God’s Grandeur, Majesty, and Dominion were combined with their admission of their innate impotence, poverty, neediness and essential nothingness, always beat with utmost respect and adoration. This state was manifest in their acts and speeches. They always acted properly and preserved their good manners and respect both at the beginning and at the end of the path, breathing reverent awe and remaining humble and modest even when they reached the level of angels. However, this does not mean that all of them were of the same level in their knowledge of God. Rather, there were considerable differences among them in this respect. Among them were those who pulled themselves together and bent double in reverent awe whenever they remembered God, and there were those who breathed self-possession and vigilance with the consideration that God saw them in whatever state they were or with whatever task they busied themselves, as they spent their life in complete awareness of God’s omnipresence.

In whatever stage of the journey and at whatever degree of certainty they may be, a traveler toward God should never fall short of reverent awe and heart-felt veneration. It should be pointed out here that having reverent awe is different from appearing to have it. God always wants His servants to try their hardest to deny themselves in profound modesty and the admission of their essential impotence and poverty, thus confirming Him with His absolute Power and Riches. Appearing to have more reverence and awe than one really feels in their heart is hypocrisy and disrespect for God. If reverent awe is a requirement of servanthood to God—and there is no doubt that it is—it is the arm or wing of the traveler in their journey toward the Ultimate Truth; it is their greenhouse and their shield, their safety belt and lifeline. Those who advance with such an arm or wing, who manage to enter this greenhouse and use this shield well as a means of Divine protection, those who fasten this safety belt and hold fast to this lifeline continuously advance on the path without slipping; they are able to act in self-possession and show respect to God on the path that goes towards Him. When they reach the end of the path by which they can meet and achieve intimacy with Him, they are under the influence of this subconscious attainment, which they have developed into a significant depth of their nature. For they have come to know what they should know—they have come to know this in the way the heroes of knowledge of God know. As declared in the verse, Of all His servants, only those possessed of true knowledge stand in awe of God (35:28), only those who are able to recognize or know Him with His Attributes of Glory and All-Beautiful Names and who are able to travel in the horizon of living as if seeing God or in awareness of the fact that God sees whatever we do and say, are able to feel the required respect, reverence, and adoration for God in whatever state they may be. However, they differ in the degree of their knowledge according to the capacity and certainty of each.

servant’s self-possession and adoration of God and their manners are proportionate to their recognition and knowledge of God. The most knowledgeable of the knowledgeable, upon him be peace and blessings, reminds of this fact by saying: “I am the one who has the greatest awe of God and who is the most God-conscious.” The conclusion of the verse mentioned above also corroborates this. The conclusive statement, Surely God is All-Glorious with irresistible might, All-Forgiving, which combines hope and fear and encouragement (toward good) and discouragement (from evil), moves the spirit with feelings of reverent awe, respect, and adoration. For the All-Forgiving gives the glad tidings of pardon and brings relief, while the All-Glorious with irresistible might warns that God has the power to do whatever He wills, is absolutely undefeatable and irresistible, and is the sole Sovereign on the throne of sovereignty. Therefore, in accordance with the Qur’anic declaration, (He) feels awe of the All-Merciful, though unseen (beyond their perception) (36:11), a traveler toward God’s presence who is to be honored with vision of Him always considers His Majesty and Grandeur, trembles and never abandons themselves to carelessness with the excuse that God is the All-Merciful. At the same instant, when such a traveler thinks of God’s being the All-Forgiving and the All-Compassionate, they are startled by the pronouncement, I surely am the All-Forgiving, the All-Compassionate, and My punishment—it is indeed the painful punishment (15:49–50), and they always breathe with feelings of reverent awe and heart-felt veneration.

In addition to being a safety belt for those who are at the beginning of the path, reverent awe and heart-felt veneration are a powerful dynamo of warning for the heroes of intimacy with God in the horizon of meeting with Him, acting as a break against recklessness and improper utterances. It is only with this feeling that while those who are at the beginning of the path can traverse the most dangerous stages of the journey with the least difficulty and without being entangled in anything, those who have reached the end of the path can fulfill what is due to their position and are saved from the pitfall of changing meeting into separation and intimacy into isolation.

Whoever one is, to the extent that one is able to make their spirit feel heart-felt veneration and reverent awe, they are neither shaken by tedious fear of others nor do they have to bow before them in worry. As a matter of fact, in addition to ordering us to love Him and love others only on account of Him, God Almighty wants us to channel our feelings of fear into fear and reverent awe of Him. The Divine command, Do not fear them but fear Me! (3:175) is sufficiently explicit in this respect.

The following lines by the author of Lujja beautifully express the same point:

If you fear the punishment of God, establish yourself in the Religion more firmly;

Trees are rooted more firmly in the ground for fear of violent storms.

There are ignorant ones who are unaware of where the path they are following in the world is leading them. They eat, drink, sleep and finally roll down into the pit of death which has been formed by their life and opinions of life and death.

There are others who see knowledge, religious acts and responsibilities and the end that awaits them in a murky, smoky, misty way, as if they are observing them from behind a foggy piece of glass. They have neither knowledge of the beginning and end of the world nor fear or reverent awe. When it is time to die after a life spent in indecision, they are dragged to their pitiable end with their shaky belief and actions.

There are still others who advance toward their end with knowledge and actions and act dependent on certain degrees of knowledge of God. They sometimes breathe with love, but since they are unaware of heart-felt veneration and reverent awe and are unable to adorn their actions with sincerity, they confuse white and black with one another and usually leave the world suffering losses, despite the opportunities to gain they were given.

There are still others: they have perfect knowledge, knowledge of God, and love, and travel their path in sincerity. However, since they suffer from a lack of sufficient fear and reverent awe, they may feel dizzied by some attainments. Even though they maintain their position by acting in accordance with it, they may display carefree attitudes and make improper utterances that cannot be reconciled with modesty, humility, and the sense of nothingness that are the foundations of servanthood to God. They provide material for certain frivolous souls.

For this reason, all believers, in particular those who have dedicated themselves to the Ultimate Truth, should scrutinize themselves in respect of fear and awe at every step of their journey, examining to what extent reverent awe and heart-felt veneration have become a part of their subconscious so that they may be preserved from carefree acts and manners and not darken the way of gain with loss. The author of Mizanu’l-‘Irfan says the following things in this respect:

O initiate, make your soul know fear, so that your soul may weep with fear.

The debased soul should fear God so much so that it should be left weak and helpless.

The low-down soul should not be carefree, thus impelling you to act freely.

Believers do not speak recklessly, nor do they dare not fulfill their duty.

Be always fearful of the Ultimate Truth, and let your knowledge of Him lead you.

Heart-felt veneration, reverent awe, and the feelings of fear and awe which they generate in the heart are extraordinarily important for everyone, and are not only the most significant fruit of true belief, but are also the most valuable result of certainty that is bestowed on a person due to their continuous turning to God. A hero of truth who has been able to pick up this fruit and obtain this result can be regarded as having gained everything they can be expected to. For since they have turned faithfully to the Being Who has the reins of everything in His Hand, they are a candidate to be favored with all His gifts. In a saying that is related as a hadith qudsi, our Prophet, upon him be peace and blessings, declares:

God Almighty says to His servant: “Make a present of your heart-felt reverence and the tears of your eyes to Me, and then ask Me for the gratification of whatever needs you have so that I may answer your call. For I am near and I answer the call of everyone who prays to Me.”

O God! We ask You for whatever good Your Prophet Muhammad, upon him be peace and blessings, asked You for, and we seek refuge in You from whatever evil Your Prophet Muhammad, upon him be peace and blessings, sought refuge in You from. We ask you for everything good, whether immediate or postponed, and we seek refuge in You from everything evil, whether immediate or postponed. We ask You for Paradise and whatever word and action which will make us near to it, and we seek refuge in You from Hell and whatever word and action which will make us near to it. Amen! And bestow blessings and peace on our master Muhammad and on his Family and Companions, altogether

[blackhavilliard]

Modern Manorian AU - Royals Magazine - Feature: Dorian Havilliard

And Dorian’s feaure is finally here! Hope you all enjoy it. Manon’s feature is coming afterwards and I’m soooo excited for that ;D

Includes full interview under the cut. Read on AO3 here.

Tagging: @rufousnmacska​, @heir2chaos​ and @gimmedafood​ (to say thank you for your comment!) Let me know if you want to be included or you can also subscribe on AO3 too :)

In the midst of a geopolitical crisis that had threatened the existence of the realm of Erilea stood a young king bent, broken but unbowed as he raced against time to thwart the enemy that has long kept his father's kingdom and now his own in its shadows. Now, years after the passing of the storm, King Dorian Havilliard II finds himself in reflection of the years lost and the years found as he governs Adarlan in stride.

Since the first appearance of the then heir apparent on the tabloids of the Rifthold Journal in a splendid attire fit for the handsome royal, it was a lascivious rumour of the young prince’s escapades inside the glass palace that permanently marked Dorian as that of an aristocratic hedonist whose existence lived off the extravagance and luxuries of the wealthy, knowing that he could absolutely get away with it.

While Dorian played the game of pomp and distraction amongst celebrity A-listers, prime ministers, and the one percent, a sinister plot by political conspirators had slowly been brewing – the overthrow of the Havilliard bloodline that has governed Adarlan for a thousand generations.

In the highest tower of Rifthold Palace is where Dorian prefers to spend his time perched on a deep-red velvet armchair sipping on a cold glass of what looked to be a fruity beverage as he pores over the latest fiction novel – a pleasure he shares with his dear friend, Queen Aelin of Terrasen. Their shared bookshelf, The Royal Fleetfoot Bookclub (named after Aelin’s beloved golden retriever, a present from the king one Yulemas) is Erilea’s most popular Book Club. And decidedly so.

Dorian’s misplaced faith on his father, then King Dorian Havilliard I, had been his constant companion after his untimely death that led to Dorian’s premature appointment as sovereign. But as the war raged on between the countries of Erilea, the formalities accustomed to a monarch were lost, which ultimately led to Dorian’s displacement from Adarlan. The young king was lost, angry, and untethered as he navigated the political landscape alongside his powerful friends: Queen Aelin of Terrasen, Lord Rowan of Doranelle, Queen Manon of the Wastes, and his closest friend and confidante, Lord Westfall, whom he sent as an envoy to the Khaganate in the Southern Continent. Dorian became known as The King Without a Crown.

Dorian ushers me to a leathered couch next to an occasional table where he pours a cup of brewed tea. He asks if I’d be interested in something stronger and I decline. He winks, a promise of our eventual liquored celebration after the successful sit-down.

King Dorian is charming, refined and a proud intellectual with a taste of an epicurean. Delegates from all over Erilea would comment on the king’s graceful charisma as he fulfilled his role of a sovereign in all its stringent social specifications. It’s as if the dark years of his early adulthood never existed when you’re in his presence. Dorian is adored by the masses and the politicians alike, and it isn’t hard to see why.

While we share a few niceties – he’s become quite a dear friend over the years – you can’t miss the way his sapphire eyes would steal longing glances out the open balcony. One can observe that it overlooks Rifthold Palace’s private airstrip, and soon everything makes more sense.

King Dorian’s wife Queen Manon Blackbeak rules from her kingdom in the Western Wastes, a two-hour plane ride from the Adarlan capital. After settling into their roles as respective monarchs of their kingdoms, the pair continued their relationship, much to delight of the common people, who were far too enamoured by their relationship for it to be considered healthy. No surprises there though. They’re really that pairing that’s pretty much straight out of a YA fantasy novel with their unbelievable good looks, seemingly opposite yet highly complementary personalities and the kind of sexual tension you could only dream of.

Nonetheless, despite the distance and their responsibilities, no one can deny just how smitten the king is of his wife. He assures me, in his usual playful charm, that she’s most likely missing him more than he is. I laugh. Even he doesn’t believe his own lie.

He makes himself comfortable, draping his suit jacket on the back of his armchair as he settles down and shows off his polished Derbys almost as if he’d like to take them off.

LYSANDRA: Should we both take our shoes off? I think we should both take our shoes off.

DORIAN: I thought you’d never ask!

LYSANDRA: I may not be born royal, Your Majesty, but I do know when someone just wants to let loose.

DORIAN: Gods, I want to let loose all the time. Do you think they’ll conspire against me if I do?

LYSANDRA: Judging from your friends in all the high and right places, I’d say there’s a higher chance of Aelin breathing ice than that happening. And even if they tried, I’m sure no one would get past Manon Blackbeak’s wrath.

DORIAN: She’s terrifying, isn’t she?

LYSANDRA: You don’t sound scared of the fact.

DORIAN: Are you scared of your husband, Lady Lysandra?

LYSANDRA: He’s a soft little mushy bear.

DORIAN: Exactly my description of Manon.

LYSANDRA: I really have to ask – for me, for Rowan and for your rabid fans. How did you convince the High Queen of the Witches to get married? Was it ever in the books for you two?

DORIAN: It wasn’t so much as my convincing her as her convincing me.

LYSANDRA: Oh, please.

DORIAN: You’d be surprised to know that she asked me to marry her first. Of course, it was all political expedience at that time coupled with a reasonable amount of care and affection.

LYSANDRA: And you said no?

DORIAN: Not technically.

LYSANDRA: So… technically yes?

DORIAN: I was drunk on self-loathing. I didn’t think I deserved her.

LYSANDRA: Doesn’t love usually overcome these sorts of things?

DORIAN: To some extent. We were at the climax of the war and we both needed to make important decisions for ourselves, for both our kingdoms and for the future we desperately wanted to have. It wasn’t the right time.

LYSANDRA: But you wanted to say yes to her, didn’t you?

DORIAN: Desperately.

LYSANDRA: If it helps, I was really rooting for you both.

DORIAN: So was I.

LYSANDRA: You know, I admit this is quite a treat being your very own interrogator.

DORIAN: Our plans to make Aelin jealous are succeeding.

LYSANDRA: Oh, she'll definitely be furious.

DORIAN: I've always admired her fiery rage. Despite it being extremely dangerous to those unfortunate enough to be close in range.

LYSANDRA: I've had my share of that.

DORIAN: I think we all have.

LYSANDRA: Tell us about Adarlan's relations with Terrasen. Even better, tell us about yours and Queen Aelin's.

DORIAN: It's tabloid worthy.

LYSANDRA: I'm not saying I've read all about it...

DORIAN: I met Celaena first before I met Aelin. And in some ways Aelin also met some counterpart of myself all those years ago. We were young and generally when you’re that young, you’re also that stupid.

LYSANDRA: But isn't it just a perfect time to make mistakes?

DORIAN: Not for a prince. Though, I did not care at that time. Sometimes I still think I don’t. But you want to know about Aelin. One thing, you see her more than I do, and I admit, it does break my heart.

LYSANDRA: Technology helps though, doesn’t it? I can’t remember how many times I’ve interrupted one of your virtual repartees.

DORIAN: She can get quite heated in our discussions. Especially if she has to wait a year or more for the next instalment of a book series.

LYSANDRA: What makes the great King Dorian Havilliard furiously out of element?

DORIAN: The monarchy.

LYSANDRA: Do you ever think back on the good old days?

DORIAN: Mm.

LYSANDRA: What did that consist of for you?

DORIAN: Well, I don’t know if I could really call it the good old days. As heir, I wasted away on frivolity and debauchery. Chaol once remarked on my depravity, and I could have resented him if it hadn’t opened my eyes to the truth.

LYSANDRA: Well, that’s an insight. I noticed the construction of the new palace has been coming along nicely.

DORIAN: It is.

LYSANDRA: The Glass Palace once stood as a symbol of Adarlan’s wealth and power. Now, you’ve opted to modernise the construction except for the addition of the thirteen towers.

DORIAN: The Rifthold Journal has been nagging me about their meaning since the blueprints were made public. They’re relentless.

LYSANDRA: I don’t want to be that friend but I’m dying to know…thirteen? Really?

DORIAN: You caught me.

LYSANDRA: Gods, I knew it. Rowan will have a fit.

DORIAN: As much as I’d like to take credit for being a Royal Romeo (but feel free to use that from now on), they each symbolise an iteration of hope, love and life. Every single one of them deserves their own monument.

LYSANDRA: What a beautiful gesture, Your Majesty. And it’s true. I will never forget them.

DORIAN: Sobering thought for a Yulemas special, isn’t it?

LYSANDRA: More like a winter exclusive, so we’re good there. But speaking of, I do have a serious bone to pick with you, Your Majesty.

DORIAN: Don’t tell me it’s the time I coerced you and Aedion to go on that Giant Swing when we were in Terrasen, is it? If I remembered correctly, you really enjoyed that.

LYSANDRA: We almost died!

DORIAN: And that makes it more exciting, doesn’t it?

LYSANDRA: You’d be surprised at how many people who don’t think of near-death experiences as something exciting.

DORIAN: [laughs] Am I that cruel?

LYSANDRA: Remember that snow leopard bobble head I once gifted you for Yulemas? Remind me again what you did to it, Your Majesty?

DORIAN: It was godsdamned terrifying, Lysandra. Why are the eyes glowing? Why are they glowing green!

LYSANDRA: That was the whole point of Bad Yulemas!

DORIAN: Manon fished it out of the trash anyway. She has it on my side of the bed at the Wastes. Should I be concerned with this friendship?

LYSANDRA: You and Aedion are lucky bastards, Your Majesty.

DORIAN: Touché

Lysandra Ennar is the Lady of Caraverre and the editor for ROYALS magazine.

~

MANON: I don't think this will go well.

DORIAN: You think? I really had to charm my way to do this, you know.

MANON: You charm your way out of everything.

DORIAN: And into things too.

MANON: Your favourite past time.

DORIAN: Are you angry? Here, let me compliment you.

MANON: Dorian...

DORIAN: Witchling.

A sneak peek of the Royals Spring Issue featuring Queen Manon Blackbeak and interviewd by King Dorian Havilliard.

[the-omni-princess]

Frozen Heart [Chapter 4]

Author: @the-omni-princess 

Summary:  After the war against Hydra, King Bucky comes home to take what has been promised to him since he was young, you. But he is not the same person as the young boy that you grew up with. Can she break through his tough shell and bring back the young man she once fell in love with? Or will she be forced to marry the monster everyone thinks he’s become?

Word Count: 4.7K

Pairing: King!Bucky x Fem!Reader (Royalty Au!)

Warnings:  Soft!Bucky, sickening fluff, a bit of language, Insecure!Bucky, nightmares

A/N:

Tell me all your comments and thoughts!!

[Series Masterlist]    [Masterlist]

----

Another week passed by, and you were getting closer again with Bucky. You could tell he was still a bit apprehensive, knowing him, he was probably trying to keep the horrors of the War away from you. Yet, as promised, you waited, having patience with him. Gentle touches that lingered, random small talk, faint smiles shot across tables at meals, the progress was there. It was hard to find times to yourselves, as the entire castle was in a frenzy for Steve’s coronation.

Today was the day, and you couldn’t be prouder of Steve, seeing how hard he was working to make sure the shift between royals went as smoothly as possible. And now I’m just uncomfortable. You groaned softly, Natasha behind you, pulling the strings on your corset tighter. “Can I at least breath Nat? Damn.” You mumbled, the corset already constricting airflow to your lungs.

“You know how traditional the kingdom likes its coronations to be, dresses and corsets included,” Wanda replied for Natasha, both already dressed in proper Lady in Waiting dresses, although Wanda was technically not your lady in waiting but a healer, but semantics. “Besides y/n/n, you look amazing.” Both have already finished your make-up and hair, and now Natasha was tugging the strings of your dress together.

You chanced a glance at the full-length mirror, biting your lip as you saw yourself, it was a far cry from the loose sundresses you adored to wear. The sleeves were off the shoulder, and the corset pushed your breasts up higher. Black and gold adorned the dress, golden rings with the family crest on your fingers and phoenix gold earrings that lightly touched the edge of your shoulders. Your hair was out, the only thing in your hair was the small crown of gold and jewels on top of your head. There wouldn’t be a doubt that you were someone with power and wealth.

Nat’s head poked up from behind your shoulder, “My, my, I wonder how long into the coronation until the Northern King is practically begging for your attention,” she teased, making you blush faintly.

“Nat, it’s Steve’s coronation, and as the princess, I’ll be standing beside my parents, so no messing around. The entire kingdom will be watching,” You reminded lightly, nervously excited, despite knowing the eyes wouldn’t be specifically on you till later in the night. “And later during the ball, Steve will be announcing the Engagement to the people, and in a week, I’ll be following him to the Northern Kingdom.” To say you were nervous about the whole affair was an understatement. Announce an engagement, move with Bucky back to a kingdom you barely knew, and start acting not only as a diplomatic princess and representative to the Southern Kingdom but as the fiancé to the king of a sovereign nation. It was a lot to take in.

“You’ll be perfectly fine y/n/n, and you look lovely,” A new voice joined in, making you spin to face it. You lit up, attacking Steve in a hug, careful not to mess up his uniform.

“And you look amazing!” Steve chuckled, gently putting you down. You could already tell he was nervous, after all, the entire kingdom’s attention (not to mention the world’s attention) was on him. “You will do splendidly, and you’ll be a great king, Stevie.” You gently held his hands, smiling up at him.

He was smiling nervously, “I don’t know y/n/n, it’s all a bit much, I’m not sure I can handle it.” He was entirely serious, his hands already faintly shaking.

“Absolute and utter nonsense, Stevie. You a good, kind man, one hell of a leader, and the most beloved blondie I know. You’ll do amazing, and the kingdom will love you, they already do.” You gently squeezed his hands, letting one go to fix his hair. “Bucky and I are here for another week, and even in the North, I’m a letter or call away. You’ll have support and love, Stevie, you will do amazing things, and I cannot wait to watch.” He smiled faintly at your words, nodding.

“Geez you became so diplomatic in the years I’ve been gone,” he teased.

“And you finally hit that growth spurt,” you replied back instantly. “Oh, and Stevie? That Lady of the Court you have been ogling since you got back? Her name is Peggy Carter, you should gain some courage and actually talk to her, so I don’t have to hear all the gossip from the maids and from her.”

He went red, not realizing his crush had been caught. “I haven’t been ogling… much.” He mumbled. “Wait, you know her y/n/n?”

“She joined court a year into the war, you were too busy trying to ship yourself off you never realized she was there. She’s single too.” You poked his cheek affectionately, “Now go talk to her before the new crown scares her off.” He blinked, chuckling as he realized you were clearly trying to set him up with her.

“Alright, alright, but hurry up y/n/n, Buck’s going to want to see this.” He teased, noticing your blush as he spoke. He quickly walked out the door, off to find his place before the coronation.

Glancing at the clock you groaned, “Come on girls, we are going to end up being late soon.” You gladly took one of each of Nat’s and Wanda’s hands in your own, Nat to your right and Wanda to your left, as you quickly made your way to the throne room. Cameras were already set up, and the few presses allowed in were making comments into small mics, as they would not be allowed to speak once the ceremony started.

Dropping hands, the girls managed to steer your way from the press, leading you to your place beside your parents who were sitting on their respective thrones. Both girls went to their respective spots behind you to the side, close but away. Your eyes ran through the crowd, noting the royals. King T’Challa, Princess Shuri, King Thor, Prince Loki, among a few representatives and warriors your mind provided you with the names for. Hiding off to a corner were the Howling Commandoes, dressed up in the military colors of their respective nations. You smiled, noticing Bucky, despite having the higher birth and the ability to sit near the other royals, opted to stand beside “his Howlies.”

He was already looking at you, smiling faintly as one of the Howlies, Jim Morita you believed, leaned over and said something in his ear. You subtly nodded towards him in acknowledgment, unable to do more than that under the glares of the cameras.

Then the coronation started. As beautiful and patriotic as it was, your eyes kept wandering away from Steve and onto Bucky. Similarly, he also couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. The crowd applauded, prompting you to turn back towards the throne, Steve now sitting on the King’s throne, a golden crown on his head. He locked eyes with you and you gave an encouraging smile. You’ll be a great king, Stevie.

-----

Time was moving too fast, you decided. One moment you were in the throne room, the next you were in the banquet hall. As the crown princess, and now technical next in line for the throne since Steve was on the throne, and being a woman of age, every eligible bachelor of wealth and power seemed to try for your hand. You turned everyone down, unable to give the reasoning that you were already engaged, simply dancing with whoever asked. You felt eyes on you throughout the evening, already very aware it was Bucky, you finally decided to take a break from dancing. Stepping away from your current dance partner, King Thor of Asgard, with a small curtsy, you rushed as daintily as possible to the bar. Downing the whiskey was easy, momentarily forgetting the princess attitude you were supposed to be currently using. You grabbed a glass of red wine before leisurely heading towards Steve, saving him from the onslaught of women going for the crown instead of the man.

Placing an arm in his you gave your best smile, “Sorry girls, I need to steal the King for a moment,” not waiting for any replies you practically dragged him to the balcony.

He sighed in relief, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Gods, you’re a lifesaver y/n/n, thought my head was going to be bitten off.”

“But that would just make your new crown all bloody,” Bucky’s voice rang out on the quiet balcony as he joined you, standing on the opposite side of you from Steve, causing you to chuckle at the comment.

You smiled faintly up at the two of them, “Are we doing this whole engagement thing yet? My feet are going to fall off if I have to dance with one more person who isn’t either of you two, and I positively cannot breathe in this stupid thing.” You sipped from the glass, your eyes falling back to the view of the ocean, storms brewing in the distance.

Steve sighed softly, “I guess you have been tortured enough sister, and after all, you did save me from those rabid women.”

“Not the worst thing to have attacking you,” you teased, placing the now empty glass on a table. “Now, am I going to have to beg one of you to dance with me or will I have to find Prince Loki? At least he knows how to dance, unlike some of the other royals.” Both men chuckled, Steve was the first to grab your hand, leading you back inside.

Bucky’s right hand was offered towards you, his blue eyes sparkled in mischief the second the three of you were back inside. “May I have this dance, Your Highness?”

A slow song was just starting, making you smile, “I’d love to, My King.” You took his hand, noticing he wasn’t jumping back. He led you to the dance floor, twirling you playfully as you laughed, before pulling you in flush against his chest. You looked up at him, biting your lip faintly as you danced slowly in time with the music, allowing him to lead the two of you. His right hand was laced with your left hand, your right hand perched on his shoulder brushing against the metal of his shoulder, his left hand pressed gently against the small of your back. The cool metal made you realize how hot you had become, and it suddenly hit you that this was the first time he felt comfortable enough to even left his left hand even touch you. Baby steps. You no doubt had some stupid love-sick grin on your face.

“You look wonderful, y/n,” Bucky spoke softly, his head gently pressed the top of your own, careful not to hit your crown. “And I can already imagine your own coronation,” He teased.

“We have a few steps before this crown changes to your Kingdom’s colors,” you teased back, smiling faintly as you leaned into him, his cologne intoxicating. “And you look amazing as well, Bucky.” The two of you kept dancing slowly, pressed against each other, firm enough that no other royal bothered either of you, but light enough that you didn’t feel like you were being suffocated. Even as the song ended, and Steve had everyone’s attention, Bucky kept his hand pressed to your lower back.

“Good evening everyone, I hope you are enjoying the festivities,” Steve held a microphone in one hand and a glass of wine in the other, soon turning his smile towards you. “Tonight, we actually have some big news to share, our lovely Princess Y/n,” you felt multiple eyes shift towards you, prompting Bucky’s hand to gently press harder against you, grounding you. “Has agreed to marry King James of the Northern Lands, ensuring prosperity between both of our Kingdoms, as well as a stronger alliance.” Applause responded to your brother’s words, and you smiled shyly, glad Bucky’s hand was acting as your anchor. “To the newly engaged happy couple,” Steve raised his glass, the rest of the hall following suit, making you blush.

“Come on doll, one more dance, this time officially,” Bucky whispered in your ear. A shiver ran down your spine, his breath fanning against your neck before you looked up towards him.

“Lead the way, My King,” you smiled, letting Bucky take you to the dance floor for another dance, this one a traditional waltz from your kingdom. Bucky’s moves were a bit rough, as it had been years since he had to even attend a ball, let alone one in your kingdom where this specific waltz would play. You laughed faintly, fixing his right hand to press against your own right hand as you two twirled together to the music. “Almost have it, just let loose Bucky,” you teased, making him blush as you lead the two of you through the dance.

----

You lost your sense of time as the two of you danced, your aching feet and tight corset seemingly caught up with you, making you hiss softly as you turned in a twirl. Bucky noticed instantly, slowing the dance down to a sway. “Ready to call it a night, princess?” he teased the nickname, his right thumb gently rubbing circles on your waist.

You nodded, “I guess I got lost in the dancing, I didn’t even realize how late it had gotten.” It was significantly darker outside, with fewer people in the ballroom. Natasha and Wanda were nowhere to be seen as you looked around the room. “Will you please walk me to my room, Bucky?” you asked softly, looking up at him.

He was already smiling down towards you, grinning as he brought your hands up to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles. “You’ve read my mind, doll.” He kept hold of your hand, happily leading you out the ballroom and towards your chambers. “Tonight’s been amazing y/n/n, I’ve missed your dancing.”

You grinned mischievously, seeing an easy opening for a joke. “And I’ve missed your terrible excuse for waltzing.”

He chuckled, smiling warmly towards you as you made your way through the halls. “Not as bad as Stevie’s dancing.”

You laughed, “He’s absolutely terrible, I have given up on him honestly. You, however, are getting better, just need a bit more practice.” The two of you stopped just outside of your chamber doors, the only guard being replaced by Sam, who walked up behind you.

“Hopefully I will be a better dancing on our wedding night.” He teased softly, making you blush.

“That would be ideal.” You kept your hands locked together, gathering the courage to say what you wanted. “Bucky? Would you like to come inside? It’s not too late, we could drink tea or watch a movie.” You tried not to seem too desperate, wanting to spend a bit more time with him.

He smiled warmly, “I’d love to, doll. How about you get changed into the fluffiest pajamas you can find, find a movie, and get comfortable, while I’ll go get changed in my rooms?”

You lit up, already letting go of his hands, rushing towards your open door. “Well hurry Bucky! You’ve missed some great movies you absolutely need to watch!”

He chuckled, “Alright, I’m going, be back soon, princess.” He turned on his heel, already heading to his own room to change as well.

You grinned, turning back towards your door, Sam smirking, making you roll your eyes. “Nothing’s going to happen, Sam, it’s just a movie.”

“I’m not judging, either way, Your Highness, have fun.” He smiled playfully.

“I will, and Sam? Will you please fetch a maid to have popcorn and ice cream brought over?” You quickly told him the flavors, grinning.

He nodded, “Of course, Your Highness,” He closed the door behind you.

Rushing to change, you let out a breath in relief as you undid your corset and tossed your shoes into your walk-in closet. A problem for later you or Natasha for torturing you into the corset in the first place. You changed into pajama shorts and a t-shirt, tossing extra fluffy blankets onto your king-sized bed as you turned the tv on, flipping through the movies. Definitely would have to be a Disney or Pixar movie, and you wanted it to be one Bucky hadn’t seen yet.

You were stuck between Coco and Moana as someone knocked on the chamber doors. “Come in!” You called, smiling as Bucky walked in, now in pajamas as well.

He held up the platter of ice cream and popcorn in his hands, that he no doubt stole from the maid on his way here. “You thought of just about everything doll, even my favorite ice cream flavor.” He set the platter down on the bed in front of you, as you were already curled up in a fluffy blanket, as he sat beside you.

“Wanted to be prepared. Now, for the important questions. Should we watch Coco or Moana? Both are amazing, but I can’t quite decide which we should watch. Oh! And we should fix the blankets to get comfy.”

He chuckled, gently pulling you closer, his leg now pressed against yours. “How about Coco? Stevie said it made him cry. And you look very comfy y/n/n.” he teased, making you blush faintly. Gods I missed this sweet side of him.

You selected the movie, “Coco it is, and for the record, you could always get comfier.”

He chuckled, “Duly noted, doll.” As the movie progressed, the two of you ate the popcorn and ice cream. You were so caught up in the movie, you didn’t realize how close the two of you were lying beside each other on the bed, nor that Bucky kept glancing towards you.

Without realizing it, you leaned your head on his shoulder, staying like that for a minute before you realized what you did, shooting up. “Oh shit! I’m s-sorry Buck, I didn’t mean to invade your space or anything, I should have asked, or I shou-“ Bucky gently took your hands in his own, making you realize you were speaking with your hands wildly.

“Y/n/n? It’s okay. Seriously, you’re an absolute dream. Your patient and still the kindest, sweetest, loyalist woman I’ve ever met. I don’t have a problem with small touches like that when it comes to you, doll.” He admitted softly, blushing faintly as he wouldn’t meet your eyes. “I just need a bit of time for anything too major between us.”

Your eyes went wide, effectively calmed down. “Oh… I’m sorry for freaking out then, Bucky.” You said softly, looking up towards him, now realizing how close your faces were.

He chuckled faintly, and you could feel his breath against your lips as he spoke, “You don’t have to constantly apologize for, doll, you’re my fiancé, what is mine is yours, cuddles included.” You could tell he was both teasing you and entirely serious.

You relaxed, going back to leaning gently on his shoulder as he kissed your head, resuming the movie. “That’s good because I love cuddles.” You deadpanned, making him laugh. The two of you settled back into the bed, his arm around you as if protecting you as you cuddled. As the world dimmed and your brain started to send itself off to sleep, you realized the cold arm wrapped so protectively around you was his metal arm.

----

You woke with a start, eyes wide as you sat up, looking for the source of the noise that awoke you so suddenly. As your groggy mind started to wake, the night’s activities begun to sink in, you must have fallen asleep next to Bucky, but currently, your bed was empty. The clock on the bedside informed you it was a bit past three am. Your hand pressed against the disheveled sheets beside you, it was still warm, so Bucky couldn’t have gone far. That’s when you noticed the balcony door was open, the curtains moving slightly in the night breeze.

Holding the bedsheets around your body tightly, you stood and made your way to the balcony. “Bucky?” You called out softly, seeing his figure hunched over the railing slightly.

He sniffled softly as he turned at the sound of your voice. “Y/n/n? Shit, did I wake you up? Gods, I’m sorry, Doll.” His voice was grave with sleep. Even in the moonlight, you could see his eyes were red and wet, his face flush. He had been crying.

You frowned, already coming closer. “Oh Bucky, what happened, baby?” The pet name slipped off your tongue so naturally, you didn’t question it, your only concern being the crying man in front of you.

Suddenly aware of how he must look he quickly turned again, hiding his face from you. “It’s nothing, just a nightmare. Go back to sleep, Doll, I’ll be fine” he said quickly, you realized his voice didn’t sound grave because of sleep but because of the tears.

Your frown deepened in concern, coming to stand beside him, “I’m not going anywhere, Bucky. Please, just talk to me, it doesn’t have to be about what you saw.” You spoke softly, wanting him to turn towards you. “I’m here for you Bucky, no matter what, and however you need me.” You pulled the sheets off of yourself, gently placing them around his shoulders. He visibly relaxed against the sheets when your fingers grazed his neck.

Deciding to take a chance as he kept quiet, you very slowly reached for his right hand. You knew he was watching you, as he tensed briefly, but didn’t say a word. Running your fingertips across the top of his hand that was gripping the railing, you gently pried his hand from the metal bar. You gingerly laced your fingers into his calloused hand, your thumb already rubbing small circles into his palm, letting yourself be his anchor to the real world. A small sob escaped his lips at the gesture, the walls around his heart were quickly being demolished by you, no matter how hard he tried to keep them up. “I’ll always be here for you Bucky, no matter what those dreams showed you, this is real. Now, here, that’s real.” You reminded softly, still gently rubbing circles into his hand.

He choked on another small sob, “I do not deserve your kindness doll, I’m a monster, I’m weak,” his voice was so soft and broken you almost missed his words. You gently tugged his hand, getting him to slightly turn, you were finally able to see his face again. Silent tears streamed his cheeks, as he kept his sniffles soft, terrified of showing weakness, but unable to stop the flood of emotions he was drowning in.

By now, the frown on your face was starting to hurt, upset at the world for breaking the boy you knew until he thought nothing of himself. Taking your free hand, you gently and very slowly wiped his tears with your thumb, before delicately cupping his cheek with your palm. He leaned into your touch easily, you knew he must be petrified but clearly touch starved. “Oh Bucky, baby boy, you deserve the world.” You spoke with conviction, making sure he heard your every word. “What happened to you and your family was not your fault. What you did as a result of that abuse should not be held against you. You were only bringing those men to justice, and you were protecting what family you had left. You, James Buchanan Barnes, are the softest yet strongest man I have ever known. You deserve kindness and so much more. You deserve love.”

He looked seconds from more tears, he knew he must have looked like an absolute mess. His brain was foggy, the terrors from the night slipping away, and he was drunk on the woman in front of him’s very touch. He leaned into your hand that rested against his cheek, savoring the small touch before you inevitable rushed away from him in disgust once you saw the truth. “I’m scared y/n/n,” he closed his eyes, not wanting to see you turn away from him. “That once I show you exactly what I’ve done, you’ll leave me too. I cannot lose you too y/n/n.” He practically whispered, and you noticed his hand was shaking, nervous of your reaction.

“Bucky, I’m not going anywhere,” the hand at his face gently wiped the new tears forming. You took a deep breath, gathering up the courage for your words, knowing he needed to hear them. “I have loved you since we were children before I even knew what love meant, before I learned of responsibilities, before I learned of the cruelty of the world. I will stay beside you no matter what has happened, no matter what you have done, and no matter what will happen. As your friend, your confidant, your wife, and your Queen; as simply yours. You have owned my heart since the day we met as children, laughing as we ran circles around Stevie in the ballroom, and hiding from the maids in the gardens. I knew even then I would do anything to be in your life, no matter the cost. I still would. You might be different but you’re still you, Bucky.” His eyes were now locked onto yours in pure awe and adoration. You had meant every word, and even though you were engaged to the man in front of you, a small part of your heart fell, panic-stricken that he did not return your afflictions.

He turned away from the railing his metal hand now resting at your waist. Ever so carefully, he used it to pull you closer to him. You could feel the warmth radiating off of him, his eyes taking in every detail of your eyes as if memorizing your very soul. Your faces were mere inches from each other, and now you could feel his warm breath against your lips, mirroring the position you were in earlier that night. Though now he knew every wall he had built up to protect you from himself was cracked and breaking, a few already demolished entirely. To him, you were the missing key in his life.

You couldn’t say quite who initiated it first, as both of your minds were lost trying to take in every feature of the other, but as the two of you kissed, you couldn’t find it in you to care who started it. Your daydreams of kissing him were completely shattered by the reality of it. His lips were as soft as velvet, and while salty from his tears, the intimacy of the kiss was making you melt. Bucky Barnes was a perfect kisser. He was warm and soft, yet he was also hard and protective, his metal arm now wrapped around your body as his lips devoured yours.

His kisses were fiery with desperation as if this would be the last time he would be able to kiss you, yet they were gentle and slow as if taking his time memorizing the taste of you. His tongue lightly traced your bottom lip, and you blissfully opened your lips, allowing him access into your mouth. He deepened the kiss, tenderly holding you as ravaged your lips. You lightly bit and sucked on his bottom lip, a dark growl erupting from deep in Bucky’s throat, sending heat directly to your core.

He broke the kiss first, much to your dismay, both of you practically gasping for air. His pupils were dilated, a small ring of baby blue around pure black sin. His lips were deep pink in the moonlight, kiss swelled, and no doubt yours were as well. “I’m not going anywhere.” You reminded lightly, his grip on your hand and waist tightening faintly in acknowledgment.

“You’re my Northern Star, Doll.” He whispered softly. You smiled warmly, deciding to ask him what he meant in the morning. You successfully tugged him back inside, and he settled into bed beside you, pulling you close to him. Your back was pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around you as your eyes closed. Bucky pressed his face against the top of your head, letting his eyes close as well as he kissed your hair. As the depths of sleep started to tug you back you could have sworn you heard a small voice whisper. “I love you too.”

----

Tags:

Frozen Heart Tags:

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@lumar014 

@littlemissporter 

@kaylaphantomhive 

@damnbuckyishot 

Bucky Tags:

@cassandras-musings

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[hypostatic-oath]

Hydro Archon, Hydro Archon, Don't Cry

I've noticed a pattern with 5star characters in my game - they only come home after I've done their story quest or at least the Archon Quest where they appear. From an in-game perspective it's obviously because it takes me a while to finish the quest and I raise the pity in the meantime, however... from a SAGAU perspective, it's adorable that they only come around after I've spent the time to get to know them better.

Content Warnings: Angst, Furina desperately needs a hug.

SPOILERS FOR 4.2 BELOW

Imagine Furina before the Archon Quest. She's holding it together, like she has been for five hundred years. She's been performing her role so well for so long, yet she feels like she's already gone beyond her limit. She doesn't know how long she can handle doing this for, but she knows she must.

Late at night, she takes a break to catch some air. She's aware that she's still performing - she's alone, but she cannot risk lowering her mask, even before an invisible audience. She takes a deep breath and looks up, and doesn't even feel the tears flowing down her face.

A shimmering light crosses the sky.

Foçalors, it beckons. Come home.

Oh no. Not this. She's not ready, she's not ready! Not tonight. She tells herself she'll answer your summons tomorrow. In truth, she doesn't feel worthy of answering. What if she's not what you expect?

That isn't even a question. She knows she's not what you expect.

She knows you have other Archons - real Archons - among your Vessels. She panics - she doesn't even have a Vision, much less an Archon's authority. There's only so much she can achieve with acting. What would she do when you took her out on the battlefield and she inevitably failed?

Come on... Another shooting star crosses the sky, your voice a faint, ethereal whisper in her ears. I need an Archon team...

It fills her with dread. She can't answer your summons! She absolutely can't! Not only would she disappoint you - because there's no way she wouldn't, surely, she can't imagine a world in which you are not disappointed once you figure out just what she is, a fraud who can't even use Hydro much less be the literal Archon - she'd also jeopardize her only purpose.

She rushes inside, back to her room, closes the shutters and the window and the curtains and almost leaps into bed, placing the covers over herself as if to shield herself from the world.

She can still hear you calling.

The next day, Poisson is struck. The prophecy is in full swing. She's frantic, searching for something, anything that could possibly help. All the while maintaining the façade. At least you seem to have given up.

It's both relieving and heartbreaking.

At night, she doesn't even risk it - her windows are kept shut. She analises every report, and locks her door when she notices that she's crying, the papers she's holding becoming dotted with tears that fall despite her best efforts. She can hear the rain hitting her window, and the downpour has her feeling even more hopeless.

Neuvillette speaks with her in the following morning. If the pressure from you wasn't enough, she now also has to manage to assure the Hydro Dragon Sovereign that she has everything under control. It's funny, how those eyes capable of such gentleness seem to gaze into her without a shred of mercy. Just speaking to him now feels like she's been put on trial, and Furina knows, deep down in her soul, that she is guilty.

He presses. Poisson has fallen. She knows. She also knows she's likely crying, the mask is slipping, but she can't give up. She has no right - no right at all, to sacrifice the lives of every person in Fontaine for the sake of her comfort. She cannot afford to slip up. And that means she cannot trust anyone - not you, and not Neuvillette. So she gathers the little control she can at this time, tells him she knows exactly what she's doing, and dashes out the door.

Wait, Furina!

She barely hears your voice as she runs. "I'm sorry, but I can't answer!" She thinks, as she rushes to the top floor of the Palais Mermonia. She knows she gas no time to lose. She needs to get herself in check, to wipe away her tears, to figure something out. Where had she gone wrong? Five hundred years, searching for a solution. Five hundred years of observing every trial, hoping it'll finally be the one she needs. But nothing.

She has nothing, and Poisson has fallen.

She thought the Traveler - and you, by extension - would be the key. That by judgding them she'd have the "most magnificent trial" that her mirror self spoke of. And yet, at every turn, the blonde outlander had managed to evade being sentenced, or even making the trial as grand as she'd expected. She paces around in her room as she mulls it over. Should she had judged you directly? Could she have done so? That would've been a trial for the ages - the Overseer, brought to justice by the Hydro Archon of Fontaine, for the crime of... what could she even accuse you of? Posessing people's bodies? That had to be illegal - or at least immoral enough to warrant a trial...

She lets her body flop onto the bed, covering her eyes with one arm as she lets out a sigh that despite its overdramatic appearance, is in fact incredibly genuine. She's tired. So tired.

Foçalors, come home.

Furina buries her face beneath one of the pillows. She hopes it'll drown out the sound of your voice. She can't distinguish whether that ache in her chest is from your summons growing more insistent or from how much she needs to cry.

The shooting star turns golden outside the window, and Furina wonders if the fact that someone else intercepted it will be enough to dissuade you. She hopes it is, otherwise, her days are numbered.

No more stars cross the sky that night, and relief washes over her body, in a wave so intense that she once again doesn't notice the tears. She falls asleep like that, and dreams of rising waters.

Furina heads to the Opera Epiclese in the morning. She's not looking forward to seeing Neuvillette, but she prays that there'll be a trial. "Please," she thinks, as she sits down in the throne reserved for the Hydro Archon, observing the stage from on high, "let it be today."

It isn't. Instead of a trial, there is a performance... and though she usually loves them, now is not the time. Worse yet, she's spotted by the crowd as she's getting ready to leave. They're angry, of course they are. The prophecy is true, and what is their Archon doing? Furina performs as best as she can, but this time the audience is completely unreceptive. She doesn't blame them. She'd be angry, too, in their shoes. She knows they're terrified. She's terrified, too.

But what can she do? Her search has turned up empty. She has no powers, not really, none besides the power of persuasion and even that seems to be slipping more and more these days. She cannot reassure her people. Neuvillette no longer trusts her, if he ever did. The water rises every day with no signs of stopping.

"Why, mirror-me? Where am I failing?"

The crowd chases her out of the theater. Neuvillette is nowhere in sight, and even if he were, Furina isn't sure she could call upon him now. The time in which he acted as her shield if gone. Neuvillette is now just another of the many she's disappointed.

It hurts.

With no other choice, she runs - as far as her legs will take her, she dashes away from the crowd, and guilt tells her she's being a coward. That she needs to stand up and reassure the masses, that she needs to do what an Archon would at that time.

The notion feels almost ridiculous. She cannot command her element freely like Barbatos, or raise protections over her city like Morax. She cannot threaten to strike down the unruly like the Shogun, nor does she have Lesser Lord (Lesser Lord! Hah! Even someone known as 'Lesser' is leagues beyond Furina's ability) Kusanali's foresight and wisdom.

So she does what she can do.

Whether it is fate or simply her own feelings of guilt, she finds herself in Poisson, at the base of the Spina di Rosula. The place where all those people - her people - had lost their lives to a disaster she was supposed to prevent.

When the Traveler extends their hand, she doesn't know whether it is a blessing or a curse. She wants to run again - what else can she do? But her pursuers are apparently still giving chase, and the outlander offers her aid. She can feel your presence from within them - every time she's crossed paths with them, as brief as those moments were, you were there. She can tell that the longing in the blonde's eyes is, at least in part, yours.

She's sorry.

She follows the Traveler to the hiding place - someone's home? It seems irrelevant. For a moment, she wonders if she could sue you for invasion of private property. "Oh, what am I thinking? The time for the grand trial is over... and even if it weren't, suing the Overseer for something so trivial would warrant the same result as the first time I challenged the Traveler..."

The Traveler. The outlander whose presence preceeded disaster. They were known for solving it, sure, but she knew that the moment they set foot in Fontaine the prophecy would have already started. Was it their fault, or yours?

Furina still feels like it might be hers.

The Traveler offers help once again. They extend their hand, and the look in their eyes as they ask her to confide in them is so earnest, so genuine. She swars she can hear two sets of voices saying the words - the Traveler's, and yours. It's faint, and gentle, and pained, and carries a yearning she knows she cannot fix.

Through them, you reach for her and she almost breaks. She knows you'll stop reaching once you know the truth.

Furina, please. You can trust us, love. Let me- let us help. People from your world cannot know, but neither of us fit that criteria. Your people will not dissolve, I promise you. I've seen enough worlds to know.

She considers it.

She hears your voice, and considers it. But there is uncertainty in your tone. You're gambling, and she's a good enough actress to know you're not sure yourself. They wouldn't do it, that's your reasoning. Furina doesn't know who 'they' are, but you're placing all your bets on the fact that 'they' would not erase an entire Nation. Who are 'they'? Celestia? If so, she knows for certain that your wager is more optimistic than based on facts. It's not enough - blind optimism is not enough for her to risk it, not even from a being like you. Besides, that is not her choice to make.

She cannot give up. She cannot lower her guard. Not with Neuvillette, not with the Traveler, not with you. The Traveler urges her for a response, reaches out, and she's about to deny them, when the house's walls fall.

Damn it, we needed more time! Furina, I'm so sorry.

She feels your sorrow about at the same time that she feels the spotlight on her.

Neuvillette looks down from his seat as the Chief Justice, and somehow the sliver of pity in his eyes hurts more than the coldness of a few days prior.

She's on trial.

________

She's crying.

She's not even making an effort to conceal it anymore. It's over. The curtains have closed and everything she worked so hard for has crumbled. The people know. Neuvillette knows. You know. Furina makes no effort to hear your voice. She knows you're disappointed.

If she did, perhaps she'd hear how you're screaming at the Traveler to go check on her. If she did, perhaps she'd hear how despite everything, you're reaching out, still. How you wish to hold her tight, as she deserves. She'd perhaps hear your outrage at the thought of her being subjected to the death sentence, she'd hear you trying to tear Neuvillette apart for allowing it, she'd hear you slowly realising that the fact that the sentence is addressed to the Hydro Archon means it's not her who dies.

She doesn't witness your relief.

Instead, it is you who gain an understanding of her thoughts. The Traveler reaches for her, and she can feel you pushing through, but she can't stop performing. Even now, she's still holding it, as much as she can.

You tear through her defenses with more ease than she expected. Furina had, until now, thought of you as detached. She knew you saw the world as a stage, a story for your amusement. Sure, you liked them, but only to the extent that one likes characters in a play, right? You were, as far as she knew, exactly the type of god - or, er, entity? - she emulated. Fickle. Boastful. Using lives as entertainment, watching trials and tribulations like a performance and solving the Nations' troubles like nothing more than a game. She had not expected you to care.

Not about her.

Not after knowing the truth.

You push forward. She knows it's you, and not the Traveler, who's in control. She can feel it, the intensity with which you reach out is the same she felt tugging at her very being every time a star crossed the sky. She knows it's you who's still trying to reach her. Even if she's failed.

Even if she's not capable of being in your Archon Team.

So she sighs, and lets you witness. That is your role, after all, isn't it? An audience of one, watching an interactive play. You haven't given up on her character, even though it's not what you expected. You're not what she expected, either. Funny, she finds herself thinking, you're both more human than anyone realised.

You witness her life. She lets it play out like a film before your eyes, the endless stream of memories of growing hopelessness as she realised that the prophecy was slowly setting itself up and she was not any closer to finding out how to stop it. Now you know - the truth, the whole truth. She has nothing left to lose now, anyway. Everything is lost. She was unmasked. She failed.

You're pushed out of her thoughts after she invites you to take your place on stage. You act in her memory, but this time the Traveler doesn't speak. You barely have time to state your piece - all you manage is an I'm sorry before being forced away. She has nothing more to share. That is enough, she figures, and far more than she ever thought she'd share. She still feels the urge to cry, but part of it is from relief.

After that, she doesn't feel your presence until after the flood.

The prophecy comes and goes and Fontaine is unharmed. The flood lasts no more than minutes, and no one is dissolved. Furina remembers your words - 'they' wouldn't do that. Though she is unsure as to 'their' identity, she is thankful that you were right. The sunlight feels like bliss upon her skin as she steps out of the Opera Epiclese, gentle rays drying the remaining water from the streets and the tears on her cheeks, and for the first time in five hundred years she breathes easy.

"They're still hoping you'll come." A familiar voice pulls her out of her trance. The Traveler, alone, stands behind her. Your presence is nowhere near. They look the same, yet different, without you within. Furina can't quite explain it, but it feels odd after being so used to seeing you within the outlander.

"I'm not an Archon." She answers, a certain bitterness in her voice as she looks down, defeated.

"I don't think they care. I know you need to rest for now, and they don't have enough primos for a ten pull anyways, but... just so you know. They'll keep trying."

Furina doesn't quite know whether that is meant as a warning or as an opportunity presenting itself. They're gone before she can ask. Either way, they're right - she is tired, and she does need rest. Out of instinct, she heads to the Palais Mermonia, but stops herself as she reaches for the door.

"Lady Furina." The gentle, deep voice she knows as belonging to the Iudex pulls her from her thoughts. She doesn't dare look him in the eye. He opens the door for her, but she simply turns away. She cannot face him, not after that trial, not after everything she'd done.

"Thank you, monsieur Neuvillette. But I... I think I'll be going, now."

The now fully restored Hydro Dragon can only watch as Furina walks away. He knows she needs her space right now, but that doesn't stop him from worrying for her. He'll arrange the best apartment he can get for her, and make sure she never lacks for anything. In the meantime, though, he'll just try not to let his emotions get the best of him, lest he causes a downpour to fall upon poor Furina, who definitely does not need rain right now. If there is one thing he knows about humans is that rain does not, for the most part, cheer them up. So he holds it in, promising himself that he'll take a small break for a walk after the aftermath of everything is over, and heads to his office.

There is so much to do...

_________

Three weeks pass. Furina lays on her bed, her window open, the soft breeze bringing the smell of a night that promises rain into the apartment. She is busy, not with work, or with renovations, but with the azure glass sphere that she holds up to the light, examining it under her lamp. A Vision... during all those years, she had never thought she'd receive such a thing, much less after being pushed away from her role as the Archon. She is thankful, yes, for her newfound freedom, and, she supposes, for the fact that she'd gotten to act again. But it still remains that this bauble was completely unexpected.

Power. This little thing can give her power. She's still unsure on how to use it, and it crosses her mind that the Traveler - or you - might know. You owe her, after all, after what she did to help you out with the play... she could feel you trying to strangle the Traveler and Paimon on the astral plane and that was perhaps why she wasn't entirely offended by their remarks. Still, she had made a great effort for that play. It was only fair that at least one of you repays the favor, no?

Furina smiles softly, sighing. She'll have to put up a commission at the Guild tomorrow.

She examines the light reflecting within, and it reminds her of the surface of the sea as seen from underwater. The holder, a silvery ornament not unlike those she's seen worn by Vision-bearers, has a distinct characteristic - four fang-like details that seem to secure the glass in place. Before she can give it more thought, the first pitter patter of raindrops reaches her ears, and she rushes to retrieve the clothes hanging on the line she has in the small balcony of her apartment before they get too wet. She rushes outside, hearing as the rain and wind pick up.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it..." She mutters to herself, quickly shoving the clothes onto a basket, trying to pick them off the line as fast as she can. Behind her, a flash of light illuminates the night sky. "Oh, I am so not in the mood for thunder..."

Furina cringes, hoping the storm is not directly above. Maybe she'll be able to sleep if it's just a faraway rumbling. What she hears, however, is not the booming sound of a storm.

Furina. Come home.

You're still trying. For a moment, she forgets about the heavy rain, and the clothes, and simply looks up at the sky. Blue flashes, one after the other, cross the clouds in rapid succession. Even after everything, you hadn't given up. The Traveler had warned her, but at the time she hadn't been in a stable enough state of mins to even care, still shaken from everything that had happened.

Now, she simply looks up.

"Overseer." She answers. You won't be able to add her to the 'Archon Team'. She knows she's not as powerful as most of your Vessels - hell, she doesn't even know how to use her Vision yet. But you still want her.

You know the truth - the whole truth - and you still want her.

The next star that crosses the sky turns gold, and glows brighter and brighter until it lands in front of her, hovering above the railing on her balcony. It emits a soft, warm light, and Furina reaches for it like she'd reached for her Vision.

Warmth spreads over her body, and it feels like every time she'd looked at the Traveler with you in them, except everything feels more... intense. It's not like she's seeing the filtered bits of you that shine through the cracks in someone else, no. She can feel you directly, and she understands why they call it 'coming home'. It's warm. It's comfortable. And for the first time she can truly, honestly say she doesn't feel alone.

You're happy she's there. Time seems to stop around her, and she finds herself dry and in a field full of stars. If she squints, she can barely make out a form, a swirling swarm of stardust in the vague shape of a person. She reaches a hand out.

You place the cursor over her outstretched hand.

Welcome home, Furina.

[sabineelectricheart]

The Dull Shine of the Blue Sea Star

Summary: After the Immaculate One dies, Byleth’s Crest Stone heart disappears. Her biological one does not kick up.

Rating: T - Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes.

Words: 2300

Notes: This was experimental, I swear. Hopefully a successful one.

Her soft green hair fell back from her shoulders, the wind causing the locks to brush against his cheek. Their hands squeezed together and their fingers stuck in a tight bond. It was a cold, dark evening in Fhirdiad, and everything was silent, as if preparing for the vigils that would inevitably come.

They knew, from monitoring the roads linking the city to the plains inland, that it was not evacuated. If there were no ferries out, which was unlikely due to being only the beginning of Spring and the waters were still too tempestuous, almost all residents were in their homes.

The Emperor stood in front of them, selecting those who would invade the city with her. Sylvain knew the choice was already made, and it was not Edelgard who decided it. This was pure theatre, but he did not mind, or rather, he preferred it so. Such a situation made his girlfriend less of a target for political murder, and he does not feel any particular devotion to his adopted sovereign.

The Black Eagle Strike Force would invade the castle, while him and a few other mages would help evacuating the civilians and fighting any militias that appeared in the narrow, uneven streets. No surprises there.

Ostensively, the redhead was left out of the main attack because he was the one who knew the city best, but he knows the truth. The Emperor does not trust him, and so it would be preferrable if he just kept out of the way while the elites handled the dirty work.

Sylvain had not seen Gautier in over five years. He spent all his time in Adrestia as military police, trying to keep the peace in the home front and order in the army. Faerghus is, effectively as of last night, part of the Empire. Yet, after all this, he is still seen as a foreigner in the Imperial Army, and most importantly, amongst the Black Eagles he risked his life to protect.

Oh, he gets along swimmingly with Dorothea, and has a strange but highly-functioning relationship with Bernadetta, but he absolutely loathes everyone else there. From Ferdinand’s incessant self-aggrandizing to Linhardt’s nonchalant demeanour, he finds his commanders to be absolutely nightmarish.

Though, to be fair, every friend he ever had was now dead and rotting in the Tailtean Plains, so perhaps he was right in following his brain rather than his heart on that one.

He did not follow his brain, did he? He followed his girlfriend. Byleth Eisner was the professor of the Black Eagles, their very beating heart, which was rather ironic, as she did not have a heartbeat of her own. She knew the Church the best, and if she says they are rotten to the core, then he believes it. No questions asked.

Considering Rhea’s behaviour these past few years, the nobleman wagers he was also right on that front.

Byleth’s position amongst the Black Eagles was incontestable. It was clear to see how much the Emperor adored her professor, and most of her former students love her just as much, but this does not translate in her fitting in with them. They were traditionalist nobles, focused on politics and etiquette. They were lovingly dismissive of the simple habits and preferences of a girl that was birthed into bloody militia conflicts.

He gets that, as he did not fit in the ideals of martial grandiose that permeated so thoroughly Faerghus culture. This is why, in fact, they became so attached with one another. Just a pair of misfits banding together. When it came time to transfer classes, he knew he would not feel comfortable amongst the Eagles, either, but he preferred the mercenary over the creepy Crest scholar as an advisor.

The invading strike force was saying their goodbyes to those who would stay behind when the fire broke out. Her heart dropped when she heard an unknown voice speak up.

“Your Majesty!” A soldier alerted them suddenly. “There's smoke coming from every corner of the capital! It seems they've set fire to the city!”

“What?! Damn it, Rhea. There really is no depth you wouldn't sink into.” The Emperor barked. “Everyone, we must commence our attack at once. Are you ready?”

Byleth felt his grip on her hand loosen before completely disappearing. He stood there for a moment, looking down at the girl he was so in love with for the past five years of his short and miserable life.

“I am sorry…” Sylvain whispered. “It is going to be alright. I love you, Byleth.”

Before she could say anything, the nobleman kissed the top of her head before making his way through the crowd. He directed the mounted soldiers to various neighbourhoods, in sights to save as many people as they could. The bugle calls of distress were sounded through the city, as citizens ran towards the invading army as a liberation force.

Fhirdiad was in the middle of a plain, between Tailtean and Itha, but the castle was located on a steep hill on the far northeast side of the city. The tall watching towers of grey stone were visible everywhere from the estuary harbour to the southern gates leading to Arianrhod and Gaspard.

As such, all the people in the city could see the large, grey dragon howling and the large golems that emerged in the upper neighbourhoods. If the invasion was lost, it was clear for all who wanted to see that the Church of Seiros was a monstruous cabal. The war was won either way.

The investiture towards the dragon was slow and painful. The fire was out by three hours past midnight, but by the time the strike force was able to reach the steps to the castle, the morning sun was peeking timidly from the Ogma Mountains.

Sylvain managed to cross the mostly cleared battlefield with rather ease while mounted on his steed, even if the area still mostly burned. Eyes danced along the scene in front of him, deciding to jump into action. He yanked his lance from the holster, trying to assure the retreating Black Eagles a safe escape.

From a few yards, as he fought desperate Church soldiers ready to die for their cause, he could see Edelgard dealing the final blow to the Immaculate One, who fell spilling rich and sickly green blood on the stone paved floors of the formerly Blaiddyd castle.

Before he could ride ahead, though, Sylvain saw as life left the body of his intended, as a spirit that left her body into the skies, fear and dread rupturing through his chest.

It all felt like time froze right then and there for the redhead. Hubert rushed to grip his arm, no doubt wondering that, now that the professor is dead, Sylvain is a terrorist in potential. The cavalier, however, was much stronger than the sickly-looking warlock, and so managed to slip out, running straight towards his lover.

Gripping Byleth in his arms, he dropped to the ground with her, eyes brimming with pain and sorrow. Tears rolled down his cheeks, dripping into her hair as he shook his head. To his side, Edelgard was also crying unconsolably, hanging on to a piece of lace as if it held the deed to the Empire.

“No, you are not allowed, professor.” He bawled like he had not ever since he was a three-year-old boy. “You are not allowed to leave me here like this. I need you. You are all I have and I cannot just let go like this.”

Each hectic battle around them seemed to disappear as they spent their last few moments together. The Gautier heir cried out in genuine pain, watching as his lover’s eyes fell closed in a permanent slumber. Nobody had ever quite seen the young man that deeply hurt, he was not one to ever show his real emotions. A deep feeling of defeat rushed through him, sobbing into the girl’s chest. He hoped he would hear a breath, but the silence only broke him more.

As Hubert rushes ahead to console his sovereign, Sylvain is left alone in the courtyard. He does not know for how long he is there crying, for a moment or for hours, until a warm hand holds his shoulders.

“Come on, Sylvain.” The voice was clipped and restrained, as if holding in deep sadness, but no less melodious. “You need a bath. The soldiers will carry the body inside, and we will be able to give her the proper rites this afternoon.”

“I can’t, Dorothea. Not right now.” He said between hiccups. “Just leave me here for a while, will you?”

“Very well, but don’t mind if I stay with you.” She conceded, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders and letting the tears fall from her shiny eyes.

Sylvain looked up, the dark clouds over Fhirdiad fading away. The war was over and the Church was banished forever. He clung to Byleth’s body, rocking her back and forth as soft begs for her to wake up spewed from his chapped lips. He pulled back for a moment, glancing over her motionless frame when his eyes caught sight of something sticking out of her corset. His fingers slipped into the fabric, pulling out a neatly folded piece of paper, stuffing it into his own pocket.

*_*_*_*_*

Weeks and Moons had passed Sylvain by. He returned to Gautier, to claim his territory back, finding little on the way of resistance. His parents fled to Sreng, and it seems they were not going to be back anytime soon.

By decree of the Emperor, the great commander of the Unification Wars would be memorialized on a monument in Enbarr, where she would have her final rest in august adoration of the subjects.

As such, Sylvain moved to the capital and spent as much of his time in the city as he possibly could. He would visit Byleth’s grave every day late in the afternoon, just before the sunset, leaving a single valerian flower at the headstone.

Sylvain still had not opened the paper he had found in his intended’s clothes, but he often would stare at it at night before he went to bed. Something about it all seemed different one very specific night.

It was the 27th of Horsebow Moon, Byleth’s twenty-seventh birthday and the two had plans to celebrate it in the Goddess Tower at midnight with a dance before sneaking down to the lawn to stargaze. His arms rested against the railing that went along the burial monument, clutching the paper in his hands.

With shaky fingers, the redhead nobleman unfolded the paper, smiling sadly when he saw her beautiful handwriting. He had become so accustomed to her writing, since she would always write him letters, in place of the speech she felt so impeded with at times.

Sucking in a deep breath, Sylvain began to take in each word neatly etched onto the paper.

28th of the Great Tree Moon, Imperial Year 1186

Sylvain,

I hate that I am writing this, but there is always the instance of a defeat against Rhea. If I am being completely candid, I do not think I will be walking out that castle tomorrow morning. Rhea created me, surely she knows of ways to dispose of me just as swiftly.

That being said, I cannot in good conscience leave you empty-handed if something happened to me, could I? I plan to burn this missive if I somehow live, so I must assume something has happened if you are reading this. I feel ashamed to say that the thought of you getting over me makes me sick to my stomach, but I also would feel absolutely devastated if you are sad forever and I do not want you to spend all of your life mourning me.

Smile because it happened, Sylvain, do not cry that it is over. The time we spent together has meant the absolute world to me and I would not trade a second of them for anything in the universe.

Never forget that I loved you more than life itself and I always will. You, Sylvain, will always be the forever owner of my heart. Do not hold yourself back, do not let your heart grow cold. Find someone and love them the way you loved me for all these years. Do not spare your happiness.

With all the love in the universe,

~B

Hot tears welled in the man’s eyes, picking up a small locket on his coat, the locket that Byleth had gifted Sylvain that first Saint Seiros Day, when he promised to be a better man to deserve her affections.

Opening it, his heart warmed at the small tuft of azure blue hair tied in black lace preserved with care inside. His intended had not sat for any portraits, and the Emperor refused, with Sylvain’s support, refused to memorialize her likeness in the tomb. This small relic is all he has to remember the love of his life. This, and now this letter.

Closing the locket and siding the chain around his neck, Sylvain looked down at the pendant resting on his chest. A soft sigh fell from him as he looked out along the large and empty square by the soft rolling of the rivers draining Enbarr, silence surrounding him as he wiped the tears from his eyes.

The young man stepped back from the railing and wrapped one hand around the pendant, holding it close to his heart.

“Happy birthday, Byleth.” His voice was soft as his amber eyes settled on the brightest star up in the sky.

Whether or not they actually killed the Goddess, he knows not, but he hopes he is able to meet her in the Blue Sea Star someday.

*_*_*_*_*

Fire Emblem Masterlist

Three Houses Masterlist

[bimboficationblues]

Beg your pardon if I've got the wrong person here: IIRC you've essentially said a few times Thomas Hobbes is bae, assuming you didn't mean another Hobbes. Having not read him/only heard PHIL101 overviews and Leviathan memes like "state of nature man brutal ugly short, big authority standing over all necessary to make not so" about him, I assume this understanding of what he's about is at best missing a lot? (Again it's been a while so mea culpa if this is the wrong person completely)

“Thomas Hobbes is bae,” thanks for my new blog header.

My approach to the history of political philosophy is modeled on Gilles Deleuze’s: I am less interested in what a thinker intended (though that’s obviously not irrelevant) and more interested in how I can borrow them, contort them, and put them to use, as a political actor and as an ethical subject. My attitude towards Hobbes, who is obviously at odds with my politics, is a pretty good illustration of that. 

I do think that the Political Thought 101 overview misses a lot in Hobbes, which is inevitable for any kind of introductory philosophy education, but is still a bummer! Like, the description you gave is a reasonable account of the infamous chapters of Leviathan, but there’s a lot more going on in there. The readings I have of Hobbes - and I think that upon a rereading, these might be more fleshed out and interwoven, since I read Leviathan in undergrad - are as follows:

1) Theorist of power: Social contractarianism is horseshit (see Hume, Mills, and Pateman for good arguments why) but Hobbes is the most radically honest of the social contractarians, because there is, in fact, a certain extent to which the state does extract a kind of consent from its subjects, and Hobbes analyzes it in a pretty novel way, certainly for his time and the kinds of political commitments he was making. The move that Hobbes makes, one that often goes overlooked, is that this “consent” can still “legitimately” be extracted by a sword to your throat. I think this makes him more realistic about what it looks like to live under human sovereignty compared to Locke, my perpetual foe, or arguably the Rousseau of The Social Contract. 

Hobbes, like Machiavelli, is insightful on this front in two senses: first, textually, by revealing power’s “tricks of the trade,” so to speak, and second, historically, because the arguments he made are ones that have been absorbed into the structures of power. We all have to be political realists, whether we like it or not, if we want to achieve our goals and make our values operative in the world; anyone who doesn’t like it should probably get out of the game, because our enemies are in it to win it, not just to feel good about themselves.

2) Protoliberal and arguably protorepublican: Another neat thing in Hobbes’ thought is that he actually grants a considerable amount of leeway to the subjects of the Leviathan (sort of), in ways that more “liberal” figures would never, ever countenance due to their implicit methodological nationalism and hunger for empire (not that Hobbes is exempt from such a thing, of course - again, see Mills). Stealing and breaking the law for self-preservation is deemed acceptable. Flight from military service is deemed acceptable. Resisting arrest to prevent the sovereign from taking your life is deemed acceptable. Opening up these interesting gaps of resistance is weirdly radical compared to say, Locke, who says you can have a little revolt as a treat to protect your property rights but is openly hostile to a popular sovereignty that might attack property rights. There’s lots to be said about this aspect of his work, but Susanne Sreedhar has written prominently on this.

It’s also worth noting that the way Hobbes writes about certain things tells us about how capitalist society unfolded and continues to unfold: “The value or worth of a man is, as of all other things, his price; that is to say, so much as would be given for the use of his power, and therefore is not absolute, but a thing dependent on the need and judgement of another.” (Leviathan, Ch. 10).

3) Thoroughgoing materialist: There’s a letter where Hobbes is asked about his reaction to Spinoza’s thoroughly materialist approach to Biblical exegesis, and Hobbes’ reply is “I durst not write so boldly.” I think Hobbes, in his approach to religion, ethics, and politics, advances the cause of a materialist political philosophy. This is most acute in his conceptions of God, which parallels as well as diverges from Spinoza’s, and also leads me to…

4) Anarchist political theologian: I think Hobbes takes seriously the claim made in 1 Samuel 8:10-17 - earthly sovereignty is bound to be arbitrary, cruel, and imperialist. The next step that one can take is that we can oppose this earthly sovereignty with something better, something radically decentered that re-”inaugurates” divine authority - which, for Hobbes, itself comes from *people*, speaking in many voices, rather than relying on the singular voice of the earthly sovereign. This is James Martel’s view and I find it highly compelling even if I don’t necessarily find it persuasive that this is Hobbes’ intent, so much as a really useful way of reading his work.

I also think it’s important to note how people respond to books like Leviathan or, in a similar way, Machiavelli’s Principe. These were not received with roaring adoration from the powers-that-be as justifications of their reign - a prominent, hostile contemporary of Hobbes called Leviathan a “rebel’s catechism”!

[itslula1991]

My Jewel (In Corrections)

Hello everyone! I am very sorry for the delay in uploading this chapter but the inspiring muse is failing me lately. Here is the second part, sorry if this is too long. I hope you enjoy ❤️

Genre: Adventure, comedy, romance, fantasy

Summary

An ancient spell causes a millenary young lady to weaken, it is up to Larry and her friends to help her find the key to return her to normal while an unknown woman, along with three known individuals, and in order to proclaim her “how hers,” she try to take over a captive jewel somewhere in Egypt. (The shock of all the chaos in the girl).

Objective? The guard and the exhibits must prevent it from falling into the wrong hands while between Ahkmenrah and the girl, a romance will slowly emerge that will bear fruit over time.

Chapter 2 

Nowadays…

After graduation he was able to move to a fabulous place in Queens, without any more instability, without any more worries about unpaid bills and all thanks to his good salary as a teacher when getting the job in the same career in which he was oriented for a better life. However, at night Larry still worked as a nightstand at the New York Museum of Natural History, because after all for his wax, metal and polyurethane friends, he is a hero so to speak.

Larry mentioned: "Follow everything as it was the last time.", walking happily as he toured his workplace.

"Not much has changed, Lawrence. Except for one detail.", Mr. Roosevelt mentioned in his peaceful voice.

Larry frowned in confusion: "I've been out of the museum for over three years due to my studies and I'm not very aware, what is it about?"

The sky razo remained the same, like all the inhabitants, revived by the magic of the table of Ahk, who walked their house going from one place to another, browsing other exhibitions than their own, in themselves continued the consistency of each of the corners of the enclosure in details, also the floating floor of warm color, waxed and always slippery as usual. What could have changed over the years?

Well, Larry's curiosity was answered by Mr. Roosevelt when he pointed to a museum space where a pretty girl with ornaments and Egyptian clothing, she was sitting on the bench in a neutral room conversing animatedly surrounded by four girls from different times, a girl Colonial, an Italian girl, a Greek girl and a Native American girl, sitting on the floor the women listened to her narrate, perhaps a funny story about her because the women laughed along with the young woman.

But not everything ended there, hidden behind a showcase with artifacts from the first African tribes, King Ahkmenrah allowed his striking eyes to be seen above a vessel at the level of his nose, observing the lady in question. It could be seen how the polychromatic orbs radically mutated from a deep tourmaline pigment to a brilliant green-water, and everything indicated that the change was connected according to their mood, making their eyes clearer, denoting joy or darker, showing absolute sadness, and in this case it seemed that the green color exposed light to all its essence.

"She is new, I hadn't seen her before I temporarily retired from here."

"She's a lovely young lady.", Teddy commented with acceptance towards her.

Larry smiled looking at the scene: "So that detail is Ahk and the Egyptian girl."

"This is Larry.", Sacajawea contributed her good eyesight being sweetly taken by the arm by Teddy. "Ahkmenrah has not skipped a day since she appeared. They are the same as two young people from this time playing to fall in love."

Sacajewea was tenderly made by the king to spend hours at random, other times too, choosing the hiding place behind the plants of Africa spying on that particular someone.

"I still remember the day the boy first saw the young woman.", Teddy smiled at the two teenagers.

**** Flash ****

A month ago...

It was night, and there was a little party, maybe it was the one that Larry started attending night classes to get his teaching degree.

Nothing particular happened as King Ahkmenrah came down from that balcony leaving Jed and Octavio in charge of the music.

Since Doctor McPhee already knew everything that was happening with the tablet, it was not surprising to see a figure come to life, so wandering next to one of them was not considered nonsense either.

It turned out that the aforementioned was a beautiful Egyptian girl, with light skin, hazel eyes, long brown hair, sandals, a fine long kalasiri (dress) with two straps that covered her bust made in real white linen with bows gold at his waist. She, too, was wearing a kind of short cape covering her shoulders, a two-piece cylindrical snake bracelet adorning her left arm, a small crown with a baby cobra, and a delicate pendant in the shape of a winged golden and green beetle with an ankh completing the young woman's outfit.

Ahkmenrah's face said it all, it seemed that everything happened in slow motion in his mind.

"Wow...", Ahkmenrah whispered as if he were seeing a wonder of the ancient world. "By Ra and all the gods."

Ahk's face lit up as he was dazzled by the bubbling chestnut. It was as if he were in a dream.

When he saw her speak willingly next to the Museum Director on one of the stairs, he was fascinated. No matter what she was doing, he smiled and his eyes filled with love and wonder. Ahkmenrah did not miss a single movement of the pretty girl, standing next to the desk watching her with a half-twisted smile and her gaze was as if billions of stars lit up within her eyes. The boy was indeed in love, and although not any woman managed to shake his heart as the Sheik of a harem in the past, she instantly shot him or, as the cliché is vulgarly said, love at first sight.

“I had not seen a museum more impressive than this one. It's amazing.”, she was so happy.

“I am extremely pleased that you feel comfortable, Your Highness. I will leave you with the figures of the establishment so that you can get to know the place. Miss.”, Doctor McPhee said goodbye with respect and she made a slight bow allowing her withdrawal.

Like everything an Egyptian goddess, she glamorous went down the stairs, the girl moved exploding sensuality and with a comic touch when everything happened in slow motion to the rhythm of the background music.

She ran her hair back with one hand, blinking coquettishly looking around while some exhibits threw roses at her, adoring her presence, therefore she greeted with extremely overwhelmed and gratefulness as she slid down the hall, seeming to parade like a 1999 BC model.

And to all this Ahk thought that she addressed him with that hip shake, he enlarged his smile but it was not, she followed long and the comical sound of when one track is run to another, made him raise an eyebrow reflecting a little disappointment. However, he continued absorbed in his thoughts without taking his eyes off each line of the toned and fine female figure, wandering in those curves when Mr. Roosevelt's voice made him come out of that trance.

"I don't want you to be the same as me.", Teddy spoke solemnly.

Ahkmenrah was half foolish trying to spin his answer well: "What do you mean?"

“In the sense that I have spent more than 50 years observing and not daring to say a word to my dear Sacajewea until Larry's arrival prompted me to do so. Do not hesitate or let her escape, Your Majesty.”, Teddy wisely advised as the boy sighed looking at the Egyptian girl.

The young woman with an unknown name detailed every corner and she never realized that those jade eyes did not lose sight of her.

Sac spoke very sweetly: "Teddy?", Appearing on the scene as she wrapped her arms around Mr. Roosevelt and inevitably smiled.

"He knows what he's doing, love."

It seems that the words of Mr. Roosevelt encouraged the king to arm himself with courage, inflate his chest, accommodate his deshret (crown) and approach her to relate, establish a bond, perhaps.

"This is so beautiful.", she whispered fascinated looking at the divine building and how the party continued with its magic.

"Hello.", Ahkmenrah finally said with real elegance behind her.

She gently spun on her axis as she was distracted watching the constellations form mirror balls illuminating the room in soft blue. The pretty girl greeted him with a friendly smile once they were face to face.

"Hello."

"What is your name?"

"I am Larempteh.", she introduced herself with singular elegance.

And Ahkmenrah raised an eyebrow detailing her peculiar appearance at a considerable distance, she had almost no makeup, just a little soft brown shade that accentuated her sweet eyes and bushy lashes, kohl for a discreet black liner and lipstick lipstick, privileged to possess the fleshy. Beautifull.

"High Blue Sapphire of the Nile, fourth queen of the fifth great king and sovereign of the reign of my pharaohs. It is a pleasure.", Larempteh added with graceful finesse in his speech.

She was not conceited, only that the way of presenting herself in the ancient world was that way when you were belonging to the nobility of Upper Egypt, and her voice was a caress with words for him since the girl was cordial, warm and very respectful , in addition to sweet and possessing that mix between shy and intellectual. She illuminated the whole place only with her presence.

"What a beautiful name.", Ahkmenrah recognized and she smiled, she was hypnotic and Ahk's eyes could not detach from the young woman for any reason. "Excuse me, I don't look at girls like that."

Larempteh excused him with a pleasant laugh: "Don't worry, it's fine. For that you have a view, you appreciate what you see."

"Also your English is perfect, you speak divinely, where did you learn?"

"I went to Cambridge University."

Ahkmenrah was amazed with a smile.

"Were you in Cambridge?"

"On display..."

"From the Egyptology Department?", both agreed in the sentence with surprise.

"Yes, that's right! What a coincidence!"

"Have you been there too? Wow, that's great."

"Is this your first night at the museum?"

"No, I came here in 1954 from the Giza expedition.", Larempteh said.

"How come I have never seen you before?"

"Here or Cambridge?"

"Both answers have value."

"Well, I arrived there in 1940 and have spent 14 years in my sarcophagus."

"That explains a lot."

"Yes. And here they kept me away in the warehouse until they created my showroom just around the corner from your showroom. I have had so few visitors interested in the old world that all this time I have been around my exhibition and never dared to abandon it, habit, melancholy perhaps... It is difficult to detach yourself from Cambridge once you belong 14 years."

"Indeed. It feels weird."

"It would also be due to the fame of a little docile nature that was instilled in us and I did not want to be feared by the other exhibitions. Apparently, today I took a lot of courage after 66 years being here and I left tonight finding a beautiful place."

Larempteh apparently hinted at Ahkmenrah, but Pharaoh did not catch that eulogy in the air.

"I understand you."

"I must add that it may be by fate, I would say."

"And why were we in different temples?", Ahkmenrah joked.

Larempteh found a cute shoulder: "Or maybe the gods had prepared our meeting for a suitable moment and I think it worked today."

"It is wonderful and you believe in destiny, that is fabulous."

She gave him a sweet smile with the music still playing in the background and neither she nor he stopped inspecting each other, reviewing his features, the most prestigious in her and manly in him. Larempteh decided to cut the air to get into the conversation a little more.

Larempteh said: "And, you're from around here I guess or..."

"I belonged. I am a limited time conservation."

She was stunned, Larempteh asked, "Limited time conservation?"

Ahkmenrah gave the queen a cute smile.

"Yes, I am a British museum of treasures."

She frowned and asked a little confused: "What?"

That's where the voice came into play in the king's mind.

"Great Ahk, now you will look like a clown from 4000 BC for the rest of your life."

Ahkmenrah was slow to process his own words, what he least wanted was to be an idiot in front of her and accidentally he did, he mentally reprimanded himself for the inconsistency he had just said, feeling ashamed for possibly making a bad impression within minutes of having her known.

The pharaoh spluttered trying to accommodate the correct sentence in her brain while she paid no attention to anything other than the strong blush of shame that formed from her cheeks to the bridge of her nose, therefore Larem smiled attentively at that detail. because it made her feel tender that there was still a young man like him and that she blushed in such a way, and that made him more nervous.

His throat went dry, his usej suffocated him, and Ahk swallowed thickly, omitting such awkwardness.

He adjusted his voice and said: "No, I meant that I am part of the treasures of the British Museum."

"No problem, I understood.", Larempteh laughed lightly. "And what is your name?"

"I am Ahkmenrah, the fourth king of the fourth king, the ruler of the lands of my parents and the pleasure is all mine."

Ahkmenrah showed up bowing in his presence showing Larem cordiality when he kissed the back of the queen's hand, she could not believe that that kind of young man with approximately 18 years of age, a classic conservation of 4000 years, was real. Like the man she dreamed of all her life but hearing the boy's name, she divinely opened her eyes at a certain surprise of having him face to face.

"For Isis! Are you the famous Ahkmenrah?”, Larempteh questioned with deep happiness.

Ahkmenrah frowned in confusion: "Famous?"

"Yes, in Cambridge. All the time the museum figures have talked about you, you are an icon there. By Ra! I can't believe it, I didn't think I had the chance to meet you one day and... Oh, what happiness! What an honor, son of the Sun. You must be considered a legend in the history of Egypt, not many reach one of the most remarkable and visited venues in the world as the British museum. It is a luxury that you are there then, you are very lucky.”

"Yes, I do not know if I am as important a figure in the history of Egyptian humanity as Ramses was, I knew later that he was more important than me."

"But you must have had fabulous feats to have been a part of here in the past as well."

“I suppose, although I don't entirely remember it, my memory has always been blank since I arrived. I mean, I wish they would help me a little more to understand myself and to know who I am apart from my name because all I know is that my determining home is there because my family is there. But sometimes I am only treated as a piece of archaeological piece from my Era.”

The glitter in Ahk's eyes faded slightly.

Larempteh grieved: "Oh what a shame they make you feel like this because you are a very nice boy."

Ahkmenrah analyzed the girl's words, the pharaoh blushed timidly again, his face was a poem and he frowned with a vague smile thinking that she could not not get over you by not resisting her charms.

Larempteh had a blush when reformulating his sayings: “Sorry, I didn't mean it like that, it was not my intention to bother you. I mean, you're cute in the sense of your soul.”

“You don't care, I've never been told before. It is precious that it comes from you. Thank you."

Larempteh smiled at Ahk's intense gaze, wiping a slight perspiration from her dress against her palms.

"You do not have to thank. After all, you do have a splendid shine and impressive eyes, they attract attention, they are very pretty.”

Ahkmenrah did 'the thing' with his smiling mouth, showing off his defined cheekbones.

"And maybe it must be because I just have them in the middle of my face.”, Ahkmenrah built a good sense of humor in which she laughed refinedly. "I also like your eyes, they are very warm and sweet. Since they are conspicuous and shocking to the delight of others, it would be considered a crime not to appreciate them in such a way nor are they how to be wasted.”

Queen Larempteh's eyes sparkled. An action that made her smile.

"Thank you. So your family is in the British museum, huh? It's great to have your parents nearby in one place or someone by your side to remind you of where you came from.”

“Yes, the boys made me stay close to them and it was also to keep my board safe. But don't worry, it's just a long story that I'll tell you already.”

"Okay, no inconvenience.", Larempteh said quietly.

"And where are yours?"

"I do not know. I am adrift just like you with my mind.”

"Oh I'm sorry."

"Do not worry, nothing happens. I suppose it is part of our life as museum exhibits having to find pieces of ourselves at random to feel complete. It's just a matter of divine intersession.”

"We can change the subject if you want."

"As you like."

Ahkmenrah watched her closely: "Dynasty XIX? I suppose."

"Yes, how did you know?", Larempteh cackled with sophistication.

She was charmingly curious to tuck a strand of hair behind her right ear, revealing one of her sparkling triangle-shaped hoops and elegant burgundy nail varnish.

"About the above, it is that you have an unseen face and it is impossible for you to go unnoticed. My guess is that you happen to be an old relative with proximity to Nefertari's family ancestors or perhaps it is because she has reincarnated in you."

Ahkmenrah learned to maintain his cordiality by behaving like a great nobleman, he was taught that his feelings should be fair and necessary before anyone but it seems that Larempteh appeared only to make him break the rules, disobeying his archaic teachings.

Well, Ahk always did, but Larem made it worse, like a fever with no disastrous results.

What he could never hide was a dazzled observing of her tangible beauty, he winked at her giving her a warm smile indirectly telling Larempteh how extremely beautiful she was.

Perhaps the young man hinted that the girl would be a descendant of the most important queen that Egypt had, making her an extremely attractive goddess for her taste and reach.

Larempteh thought, "No, I don't think that's the case either. Well, one knows who it comes from to reincarnate as a living human god on Earth, but one of my parents may have had the honor of belonging to the offspring of the Nefertari's lineage from the many children she had. Perhaps I am some great-granddaughter or great-great-granddaughter, as were the many siblings I had."

"The hundreds of kings who claimed your love should tell you."

Ahkmenrah guessed vehemently. And how not to do it? If she radiated sweetness and owned an exquisite exotic image; how it was not possible that the kings would not argue the hand of that venerable woman.

"No, well, yes, in part, but it was my older sister who received ninety-nine point nine percent of all these courtships.", Larempteh let out a natural laugh.

"Sister.", Ahkmenrah was not interested, rather he was unsuspecting. Shocked by the fact that her beauty is not praised.

"Yes. You see, Dad wanted two male rulers, one who was a strong pharaoh and who knew how to command the kingdom and another who was a champion in battles, especially in Kadesh. As you see, it could not be, he had my sister and me some time after that event. And considering that my father's wish was fulfilled very late, yes, he had more secondary children, but she and I were the eldest daughters of the family and for Real rules we had the privilege of direct access to lead a nation for being of pure lineage. Although something happened along the way and it was damaged or rather someone made history change its course regarding that. A long story that I will tell you.", Larempteh commented with a frown with a smile naturalizing his story.

"And why her and not you, how is that possible?", Ahkmenrah used a tone of Royal disbelief.

"It was just that she was extremely beautiful.", Larempteh just shrugged her shoulder in a cute way continuing the thread of praise. "She was so crazy though."

"I am sure she does not exceed the honey of your voice or your delicate presence.", Ahkmenrah said raising his jaw with elegant bearing.

The young queen did not know where to look, and of course, if Ahk's electric eyes did not dare to detach themselves from his youthful features.

Larempteh was intimidated by these charming courtships and tilted her face to the side a little hiding a faint blush keeping a thin smile as she tilted her head to later observe him.

"Excuse my daring but I couldn't stop watching you since I saw you. It's just that you're more beautiful than the Giza pyramids.", Ahkmenrah complimented her and the girl felt another strong blush take over her face.

In a delicate tone, Larempteh said: "How divine.", stunned with a slightly strange smile wandering her lips for all the praise she got from him.

"I spent 54 years wrapped in dirty linen bandages, locked in a sarcophagus and after waking up 66 consecutive nights to meet you, that's divine. You are a precious, beautiful creature."

Ahkmenrah after that praise, smiled sideways showing his immaculate teeth, without showing lewdness or perversion, it was like a seductive tactic in him.

The queen laughed in elegant confusion as she said: "Thank you?"

Obviously, in her time she was not very familiar with more than 100 compliments in a row due to her real beauty and so many coming from a single pharaoh, it was something intense but that was still a nice touch on her part.

"Don't be thankful since the pharaohs used to have an aggressive and unkind image. You should be suspicious.", Ahkmenrah commented regaining his posture of standing up.

Larempteh said: "I'll be careful then."

And her whispering was a little less than what's called suggestive, perhaps being eerily suggestive was a healthy seduction tactic to start the romance game.

"Although if someone stands between me and your beauty, probably the king of 4000 years ago, perhaps he will make an exception. But as long as none of that happens..."

"I knew what pharaohs were like in our time. Not tolerant, only in tiny exceptions.", Larempteh reaffirmed.

Ahkmenrah leaned down again, bringing the female hand to her lips, placing a kiss on her knuckles.

"I am kind, believe me not unless..."

The pharaoh straightened up, winking at the girl again so she smiled at him causing Ahk to wrap himself in the infinite tenderness of her beautiful grimace and lose herself in the brilliance of her precious eyes.

Maybe it was because of an attraction that burned inside her or an irrepressible instinct to want to touch her, even if it was to take something from her to remember her before returning to the darkness of her sarcophagus, extinguishing that sadness and going to 'sleep' happily and waking up a bit more alive by an obtension, and then the pharaoh felt the need to approach very slowly to Larem's face reviewing his eyes for each of its smooth details directing his lips to hers, who incidentally, looked at that mouth with reverie.

Larempteh for her part closed her eyes at the preamble of the stimulus in which her heart beat a thousand times stronger than before, announcing that perhaps she would have her first kiss under the beautiful blue light of the constellations. How romantic would it be, right?

She stood still with her eyelids hiding her pupils without startling when Ahkmenrah gently cupped a hand on her right cheek, it was such a sweet touch, he transmitted so much peace to her from the first moment.

Ahkmen closed the distance between the two more, and more, and more, and more, and more until Tilly's voice was heard as he ran to Laaa through the hall interrupting the moment.

"Laaa, no! Don't touch that! Those aren't headphones! It's a defibrillator!"

Ahkmenrah and Larempteh suddenly opened their eyes and immediately regretted the situation in which they found themselves and laughed without penalty or glory.

Larempteh said with a laugh: "How pitiful."

The queen touched her own face that burned from the strong blush, but she continued to laugh, being accompanied in good humor by the loud and manly laughter of the pharaoh.

That commotion where Tilly chased Laaa, made Rexy and Trixy freak out and make sounds minimally chasing away the crowd causing Larempteh to dodge the alpacas, the flames, the terracotta soldier and the Vikings fleeing in terror in his direction. .

There was a moment when the girl lost her balance due to their action and it was there when she fell into the arms of Ahk, who reflexively held her tight by the waist like the gentleman she is. That caused her to sink her face into the hollow of the precious and soft neck of the king, thus forming an electricity that was made at the clash of skin against skin and at that moment a spark ignited between the two upon closer inspection.

"Well, I must reaffirm it, now more than before, what divine eyes you have."

Ahkmenrah praised the color of the girl's irises that now mutated to the striking honey pigment, giving Larempteh a soft grimace on her lips as she watched him from behind her thick lashes as she smiled tenderly, with her too, of course losing herself in his eyes.

**** End of Flash ****

@sherlollydramoine​ @xmxisxforxmaybe​ @txmel​ @moon-stars-soul​ @sunkissedmikky​

[ladyshandioftheendless]

Shandi’s Tales from Sphynxia!

Writing more about the Golden Order cause I’m sure poor Vinneketh could really use his bros right now~

~Shandi

With Demon gone, Vinneketh goes back to Sphynxia to be with his family..only to find the Royal Court of Rhye are there as guests!

THE LOTUS BLOOMS

Vinneketh had made a decision. His Master and the rest of his Troupe were always there for him in his times of need. Now that Demon was no longer with him he needed them now more than ever. After speaking to the Elder she was more than happy to grant him the use of KISSteria’s Star Portal to return to Sphynxia. Upon his arrival he noticed desert caravans outside of the Palace. They were clearly for royalty, carrying sparkling white banners with a very familiar coat of arms. Immediately he knew who they belonged to. He was looking forward to having tea with Prince Freddie again. “Welcome home, Vinneketh!” Radames greeted, hugging him tightly. “I know this separation has been difficult for you, but we are here any time you need us. You are very much loved, my son~” Vinneketh smiled. “Thank you, Master. I think being home is something that I need right now. I can heal properly here~”

“Is that my darling Vinneketh I see~?”

“Indeed it is, Freddie. How wonderful to have you and your Court as guests here in Sphynxia~”

They ran to each other and hugged. “Oh, it’s been an absolutely fabulous time here darling..the decor is just so beautiful! Dear Radames has been quite the gracious host~ I and the rest of my Court are just settling into our sleeping quarters. We simply must meet later for dinner!” Vinneketh nodded enthusiastically. The joyful atmosphere was already helping him to feel better. “I would like that very much, Freddie~ Please pardon me while I go and dress myself for the occasion~”

Later that evening after bathing and changing clothes Vinneketh adjusted the brooch that held his sash together before heading to the dining hall. He was happy to see the rest of his Troupe at the table. Bomani was the first to see him enter. He quickly got up from his seat and went over to him, pulling him into a tight embrace. “It is good to see you back here again. I have missed you..” Vinneketh hesitated briefly but returned the hug. “And I have missed you..all of you..very much~” The others joined the embrace. “You gonna be stayin’ for a while?” Masika asked as he ruffled the dancer’s hair. “Cause we got a lot of catchin’ up to do!” Vinneketh laughed. “Yes, I do intend to stay for quite a while. I promise you we will all have ample time to catch up~”

Radames led Freddie and his Court into the hall a short time later, all of them dressed in flawlessly white flowing garments. Freddie of course had his collar lined with fur and jewels fitting of his higher ranking. Vinneketh always found new ways to admire the Sovereign Prince’s eccentric sense of fashion. “Honored guests from Rhye, Sphynxia welcomes you, and whole heartedly accepts your offer of friendship. May our alliance be fruitful and prosperous for us both~” The Warrior Troupe bowed graciously after their Master spoke. Freddie was beside himself with happiness. “May your Gods bless you for your lovely hospitality, Master Radames~ If you don’t mind my Court would like to say a few things~” 

“Oh, please..you are free to speak whenever you wish~” 

Vinneketh watched intently as each member of the Court stood to speak. Lord Brian was very tall, handsome and incredibly well spoken. Every time he moved his head his curls would bounce. It was adorable~ Lord Roger was a refreshing ball of energy. He made many humorous quips as well, which never failed to make Freddie laugh. He’d get along well with Masika~ Lord John however was the exact opposite. His voice was quiet but he spoke very poetically. Dalila was quick to show his admiration, making John’s cheeks flush as he took his seat. How cute~ During dinner the entire table was alive with conversation. Even while Vinneketh spoke with Freddie he noticed how much Dalila and John seemed to gravitate more towards each other. They really seemed to fit well together~

The hours ticked by with no one really noticing. Unfortunately Dalila was one of the first to succumb to the need for sleep. He politely excused himself from the table, saying good night and bowing to their guests. He was too tired to realize that the lotus blossom in his hair had fallen out, but John noticed. He got up from his seat and picked up the flower, running out to catch Dalila further down the hall. “Pardon me..!” he shouted, cradling the blossom gently in his hand. “I’m afraid you dropped this.” Dalila blinked, patting the spot in his hair where his blossom was supposed to be. “Oh! That has never fallen out before. How strange. But it was most kind of you to return it to me~” John felt his face heat up again as Dalila smiled at him. He was just so incredibly beautiful when he smiled~ John timidly reached up to place the blossom back in the blond warrior’s hair. “There you are. Good as new~” Now it was Dalila’s turn to blush. “Thank you, John~ Would you perhaps..like to meet in the morning for tea by the lotus garden~?” John’s heart was already pounding with anticipation. “That sounds wonderful. I would love to~”

To Be Continued!!