#Swallow Grotto

[nikonstudio]

Please do not document your shots here with a phone camera. It will simply do no justice to your trip here.

[mothmiso]

France '24 (2) (3) by W Biggs

Via Flickr:

(1) Villecroze Grottes (2) Barn Swallow outside Aups     

[phone4pills]

NAUGHTY LIST DAY 7

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ slow’s advent calendar! blowjob, lowkey kinky, costumes, public sex if you squint, swallowing cum ahhhhhh

“Fuckk… j’s like thaaat…” Chris groaned, throwing back his head as he removed his Santa hat. The two of you had agreed to help out at the local mall for a little cash. He dressed as Santa, you being his elf, and you guys handed out little gifts to all of the children who came to Santa’s Grotto. It was pretty fun and you had gotten free drinks from the smoothie bar nearby. But after hours and hours, Chris was becoming hotter and hotter in his suit. Inevitably, having to take a break.

The two of you had snuck into the little dressing room behind the grotto and you decided to help Chris relieve some of his stress. You sat on his lap, grinding softly, while the two of you made out. Your lips became swollen against his and Chris was becoming more and more needy. One thing led to another and you found yourself on your knees with your hands on both of his thighs, head bobbing on his cock.

His half-lidded eyes became slightly glossing as he watched you take his length, elf ears and all. The little elf skirt you had to wear wasn’t very helpful either, but unfortunately it was the only one available. The little kids weren’t all that bothered, but Chris was. All the men that walked past would peer your way, even some of the dads would glance down for a split second before leading their kids into the den.

He pulled at the makeshift ponytail that was held together by his fist, lifting your face off his dick to get a view of your teary eyes and red lips, foaming at the corners. The sight alone was enough to tip him off the edge as he pushed your head back down onto him. And within a few seconds he was cumming. “Shiiit. Always treatin’ me so good, yeah?”

You nodded, swallowing down the warm semen before leaning back down to kiss his tip. Then you directed your vison up at the boy, staring at him through your lashes with puppy eyes. “I’ve been so good, Santa, will you take me off the naughty list?”

Hey… here ya go guysss, to clarify I’m not into dress up or wtv but I tried. Also this is not proof read. Happy 7th !

- ©phone4pills

[redsugarx]

青白之魅 3: Hair & Makeup Styling

1 Introduction & Presentation // 2 Background & Influences // 3 Hair & Makeup // 4 Set Design // 5 Clothes & Accessories // 6 Conclusion

If you thought there was gonna be less nerd from here on out you are deeply mistaken.

I was responsible for the hair styling for both the white and green snake, which was super fun. I’ve been doing hanfu hair styling for a year or two now (thank you to everyone who let me practice on them) and have gradually gotten better at it, even though I still struggle with some parts of it—I certainly have the equipment collection to show for it now at least! I have so many fake hair pieces I can’t keep track.

As with any hanfu hair styling, the process involved a lot of fake hair pieces, pins, and hairspray—but of course before the actual styling started, which was mostly only on the day of, I had to spend some time thinking about how I wanted the hair to look on each character.

元 衛九鼎 洛神圖, Taiwan National Palace Museum, 她：女性形象與才藝，2020

As for as snake-like hairstyles go, the first thing that comes to mind is the 靈蛇髻/灵蛇髻/ling2 she2 ji4/Spirited Snake hairstyle, shown above on Luoshen, a women’s hairstyle that went through a lot of changes through the dynasties but generally involved a tall, twisting bun leaning slightly to the side on the top of the head, resembling the body of a rearing snake. It’s a very popular style both historically and among hanfu enthusiasts today, because it looks very ethereal and unique. Often, female spirits or goddesses are depicted with this hairstyle.

That was the style I was originally planning on using, but it came with some limitations: one, it’s… how do we say it in the physics world… stuck in unstable equilibrium? We’d essentially be walking around with the leaning tower of Pisa around on top of our heads. I had to style both of our heads BEFORE setting up the set design, so there was too high of a risk that something would get knocked out of place, since I knew I would have to be running around doing things. Also, because Yulan has brightly colored dyed hair, she had to wear a black base wig under all the fake hair pieces, which is a bit more difficult to pin things to than your actual scalp.

So instead I went with a different design. I knew I still wanted a lot of serpentine loops and strands, and I wanted there to be a significant amount of volume going on—they are ‘spirits’ and ‘goddesses’ after all, they deserve to be fancy!—so I went from there.

The Poetry Vibes

I stumbled upon a few poems last year while looking for names for Cloud9 Hanfu’s Year of the Dragon collection, and a few of them ended up becoming inspirations for this project. 

This is the first part of 張可久 (Zhang Kejiu)’s Yuan Dynasty verse, 醉太平·春情 (Drunken Peace · Spring Romance). It’s a bittersweet poem describing a speaker that is longing for a lost love, likening her beauty to the imagery of the evening spring showers outside his home. I’ll do a slightly more faithful line-by-line translation of the poem’s actual words, then a paragraph-form translation with more stylization that gets at the meaning a little more.

This is mostly just my interpretation though, and my Classical Chinese is... less than amazing, so like... take it with a grain of salt.

張可久 Zhang Kejiu, 百度百科

Line-By-Line

烏雲髻鬆，金鳳釵橫。<- “Her storm cloud hair is soft and loose, the golden phoenix hairpin is horizontal.”

伯勞飛燕自西東，惱離愁萬種。<- “The shrikes and swallows fly their ways to the West and the East, causing ten thousand kinds of sorrowful goodbyes.”

碧溶溶满溪綠水桃源洞，淡濛濛半窗白月梨雲夢，恨匆匆一簾紅雨杏花風。<- “Jade stream water flows to the Peach Blossom Grotto, moonlight is cast cloudily through the pear blossoms to my half-open window as if through a dream; the wind is unforgiving, felling apricot petals like a red curtain of rain.”

把青春斷送。<- “It ruins the spring.”

Stylized

Storm clouds gather loosely outside my window. I can almost imagine that they are strands of her soft hair; I can almost see where her golden phoenix hairpin would have laid, nestled in her black locks.

It’s springtime now—the orioles should be migrating, flying to their summer homes in the west, and the swallows to the east. Imagining their inevitable parting stirs a complicated sorrow in my chest.

As it storms, clear rainwater collects on the ground in rivulets, streaming away like liquid jade. I wonder where the water is going—is it to some forgotten, untouchable paradise? Is that where she is now? I can see through my half-open window where moonlight drizzles through the petals of the pear-blossom trees, misty and clouded as if I’m dreaming. Suddenly, a curtain of red petals fall across my vision like rain: it’s my flowering apricot tree, struck by the wind.

My trance is broken—spring is over.

//

As Chinese poetry tends to be, it’s very romantic with lots of natural imagery, tinged with sadness. When I reread it with this project in mind, it made me think of Xu Xian after the events of the Legend of the White Snake. While it’s commonly accepted that Bai Suzhen later ends up getting freed and there’s some kind of happy ending, the actual legend itself ends with the White Snake being imprisoned under the Leifeng Pagoda. Many years, if not centuries, pass before she gets out. So as many Chinese romances tend to be, the Legend of the White Snake is, by itself, a great tragedy. I can see the Xu Xian as the speaker of the poem.

Bearing this in mind, I imagine that the beauty of the Snake Spirits are much like the scene described in this poem—soft and ethereal like mist, hiding enough power to bend nature to their will.  I decided to lean into the ‘clouds’ theme, especially for Bai Suzhen.

傳 五代 周文矩 仕女圖, Taiwan National Palace Museum, 她：女性形象與才藝，2020 (ft fucked up fat cat)

The comparison of women‘s hairstyles to rainclouds is actually very widespread in Chinese literature, so it was perfect for hairstyle inspiration—in poetry, women are often represented by their features, ex. a poem might say "moth brows" or "cloud hair" to refer to a beautiful lady. Cloud hair and cultivated appearance is integral to the allure of a woman, so much so that the act of putting on makeup or is often viewed in literature as a transformation of identity.

In this instance the transformation of identity is supposed to be in the sense of gender identity, but you could also see it (in the context of this project) as the transformation from snakes to women.

This connection is strengthened by another poem, 好事近·夢中作 by 秦觀/Qin Guan from the Song Dynasty.

清宫殿藏画本. 北京: 故宫博物馆出版社. 1994, Wikimedia Commons

Line-By-Line

春路雨添花，花動一山春色。<- “Rain has filled the road with flowers, swaying in the breeze, filling the mountain with the feel of spring.”

行到小溪深處，有黃鸝千百。<- “I walked far along the mountain stream, where there were hundreds and thousands of yellow orioles.”

飛雲當面化龍蛇，夭矯轉空碧。<- “The flying clouds turned into dragons and snakes before me, stretching across the vast jade expanse.”

醉臥古藤陰下，了不知南北。<- “I lay down, drunk in the shade of the vines, not knowing which way is North or South.”

Stylized

I see where the spring showers have filled the mountainside with flowers. They sway in the breeze, bringing with them the rejuvenating scent of spring as I walk deeper and deeper into nature, following the bubbling mountain spring and the crowds of yellow orioles that have come out to celebrate the season as well. As I look up at the sky, I see dragons and snakes form in the midst of the roiling clouds above, leaping and coiling across the expanse of the clear blue sky. Intoxicated, I stop to rest underneath some vines, lost in the beauty of springtime.

//

So I am aware that it kind of sounds like this guy miiiiight be on acid but I'm pretty sure it doesn’t mean he’s hallucinating snakes in the clouds, it’s just like when you look at a cloud and say “that one looks like an elephant!”

Then again there is an interpretation that says his "walking further and further into the nature" means he's just getting more and more drunk to escape his problems, so like... make of that what you will.

Anyway, dragons also have power over rain and weather, and snakes are often called the ‘little dragon,’ often also associated with flowing water. All this is to say—clouds & coils are good representations of snakes! Also, you’ll notice that both of these poems are about springtime (though the second one is noticeably happier), fitting in with using this project to welcome the Spring Festival :)

Moving onto individual hairstyles. Keeping in mind the shapes of clouds, I wanted Bai Suzhen’s hair to be very tall, voluminous and ethereal to represent her spiritual prowess and strong will. A bunch of loops fan out at the top center of the hairstyle, adding ‘rays’ pointing outwards like a halo. I made sure there were a lot of round, circular elements to ‘fluff out’ the shape like a cloud. There are two strands of circles kind of peeking out at the bottom behind her neck/ears area, which were achieved by pinning a braid to each side and then pulling the outermost hair strands of each ‘loop’ outwards to create little flat circles.

Going back to the first poem, if I imagine that the speaker is Xu Xian thinking of Bai Suzhen, it makes sense for the mentioned ‘gold hairpin’ to appear in her hairstyle, doesn’t it? So I also added a few gold hair accessories—U-shaped pins for the most part, plus a small guan in the center to tie things together—to point outwards above her head. 

For Xiaoqing's hair, I wanted something that was a little more youthful, but still resplendent enough to do her justice. Xiaoqing is a younger spirit than Bai Suzhen, but still accomplished in her own right. Her hairstyle don’t extend as far outwards as the White Snake’s, but she has two ‘loop’ buns on each side rather than one peak in the middle. It’s kind of evocative of the double bun look often styled on younger girls, but with more fancy loops and swirls added to represent her high spiritual abilities. Each of the two main buns has two strands of hair looping up from the back of the head to the top. The strands are very loose, so depending on how I moved they separated into several visible strands/just one thicker lock of hair.

The hair accessories I chose for Xiaoqing don’t have as much metal in them, to distinguish her from her sister, as I wanted to emphasize her connection to nature—because she has less experience than Bai Suzhen, she is often portrayed in media (Green Snake 1993 especially) as not yet reaching full human form, still closer to her serpentine origins. She has a white flower with green leaves on each side, standing for spring, youthfulness, and her dedication to the White Snake. There are a couple strands of pearls ‘dripping’ down from the flowers like raindrops, matching with the pearl accessories in the makeup, as well as with the white markings on Dragun’s back.

傳 唐 周昉 內人雙陸圖 , Taiwan National Palace Museum, 她：女性形象與才藝，2020

I also chose to include a pair of green half-moon combs, made to imitate jade (they’re acrylic, I’m working on a budget here ;-;). These were often worn several at a time, inserted into different layers of hair (as seen in the image above). Jade accessories are carved from nature—they are often subject to the colorings and properties of the natural base material they are made from, and they are often used to describe natural imagery. This can sometimes be a limitation, but for those who look further it can be an inspiration (see the Jadeite Cabbage, my favorite thing ever, Taiwan Numba One).

Peking Opera Hairstyles

京劇旦角，百度百科

Peking opera influenced the hairstyle design a lot. Dan roles (旦角）in opera have very specific hairstyle protocols. They wear a lot of fake hair pieces and hair accessories just like modern hanfu hairstyles have. One of the base hair silhouettes shared by almost all dan is the traditional 大頭/大头/da4 tou2/'big head,' with most of the hair wound into a large oval bun on the back of the head, and small pieces added at the edges for decoration. To imitate this look, the back of both of the hairstyles are padded with a large, flat, and round hairpiece (known in the hanfu hairstyling community as the 西瓜包/xi1 gua1 bao1/'watermelon bun'). This helps to add volume onto the back of the head, creating the illusion of very long hair that has been neatly wrapped and pinned up.

Another one of the key parts of these hairstyles is the round loop of hair in the center of the forehead. It’s an important feature that I included to tie the two styles together, to make sure it was clear that it was a ‘matched set’ so to speak, and was inspired by the hair loops seen in Chinese Opera styling.

戏曲旦角化妆、梳大头全过程，新浪博客，2011

Traditionally, a solution made from elm tree sap or kelp was used as hair gel to glue the little contouring base pieces (貼片子/tie1 pian4 zi0) down to the face. Seven loops called 小灣/小湾/xiao3 wan1/'little curves' line the forehead, one in the center and three off to the sides. They look kind of similar to the hairstyle that ballroom dancers have.

This was an artsy hanfu concept shoot, so I didn’t want to necessarily copy the operatic hairstyles—not to mention I don't know how, the motion of making one hair loop alone can take 3-5 years to train—but I did want to include some elements of the opera characters as a nod to their role in popularizing the legend! So each hair design has the central loop. It’s a separate hair piece that I bought for this shoot, whose base I covered with some of the other hair. It isn't glued down like it would be traditionally. I was going to have a few more loops coming down on the sides too, but I found that it looked kind of awkward so I took them off.

There are also two thin strands of hair trailing down each shoulder, another element partially inspired by Chinese opera styling, but it’s very common nowadays to have those there just for the Vibes so it’s not as unique. Most dan roles have a section of long unbound hair trailing down their backs, with two small strands separated out to stream down the front. This is called 線尾/线尾/xian4 yi3/'thread tail' or 線簾/线帘/xian4 lian2/'thread curtain.'

Makeup

Okay so this mostly ended up being about hair rather than makeup because I know a lot more about hair than makeup, but I'll talk a bit about the makeup too lol. I can't speak for the White Snake's makeup—Yulan was in charge of that and she did a marvelous job!—but I did do my own makeup.

The makeup for the green snake came with a great challenge: how do you make my face, arguably the roundest and most nonthreatening thing you’ve ever seen, into something resembling a snake demoness? Also, flamboyant makeup in cool colors can be tricky—too little and it’ll all disappear on camera, too much and it’ll look like a muddy green mess.

Both my sister and I are fairly warm-toned; green has to be very concentrated in a very small area to look interesting, otherwise it just looks like a bruise (I tried it). So I tried to use a lot of long thin lines of color and angles in the eyeshadow to avoid that, and to kind of draw out the snakey vibes. The meager selection of green eyeshadows that I had weren't the most pigmented, so we made a stop at Sephora (my first time in Sephora believe it or not) on the way from LAX to Riverside and bought some supplies. They turned out to be super super useful.

One of my favorite makeup features was a my sister’s suggestion—fake pearl ‘snake bite’ piercings under the bottom lip! It’s a fun little linguistic easter egg that I’m super happy to have been able to incorporate into her styling. 

宋人 宋高宗后坐像，Taiwan National Palace Museum, 她：女性形象與才藝，2020 Look closely and you'll see dozens of tiny women depicted in pointillism on her guan headdress!

Pearl makeup （珍珠花鈿/珍珠花钿/zhen1 zhu1 hua1 dian4）was really popular throughout several dynasties, but especially the Song Dynasty, where it became a huge trend among nobles. Today it mostly appears in hanfu circles, but I believe some Southern Chinese opera styles use them too.

As far as I know, the position that we put them in under the bottom lip is anachronistic, but they did often appear at the corners of the mouth/the dimples (面靨/面靥/mian4 ye4), so if you stretched it a little and imagine they've just been moved slightly, I could probably claim that it's at least historically inspired.

元人 畫梅花仕女, Taiwan National Palace Museum, 她：女性形象與才藝，2020

Other places that pearl makeup often appeared was on the temples, cheeks, or forehead. I also put a pair under my eyes just for funsies (I find that using smaller-sized pearls looks better to me, even though the ones shown in paintings are usually fairly large).

//

Okay that ended up being a lot longer than I thought it would be. I am so tired wow. The next one might take a while to come out too, but hope this one was enjoyable :)

1 Introduction & Presentation // 2 Background & Influences // 3 Hair & Makeup // 4 Set Design // 5 Clothes & Accessories // 6 Conclusion

[tomalbon]

Poem #85

You rose in the North with a wax lance

And marked the first mountains

With such enthusiasm the world shook.

Canyons charged with bear-eyed

Guide-light emanated from your toolmarks,

Waypoints for my fingers

Tossed in Southern oceans like strange

Porpoises, carriers

Of aquamarine promises that spirit

Grottos to distant places.

Great trunks transfigured from their bodies

Sprout skyward, unburdened,

Seeking green anointment from your migrations,

Ascendant in the East

Where prevailing winds now carried your interest,

Dog-curious, arrow-bright,

Risen as balloons of an egg yoke sun

Unshadowed by purple clouds.

You coronate them so gleefully,

Dappled in apple hues

Instinctively circled in Spring flightpaths,

Anthologising countless

Ley lines that glide, swallow-bodied, to you,

Nested in a starlit smile.

Pilot our penmanship to the West

Where I fear I cannot go

Alone; the swan-crowned hazes of the West

Where stranger life begins -

The second life, the one where no-one

Comes to save you;

Where ink-black strands lie illegible

Beneath a squid-beak moon.

Fathom its deep lamps for guideposts

Where the sea becomes ichor

Of that beast. Flense its shapeshifter skin

Into chrysanthemums

And weave their violet flakes into lifeboats

For my unshattered senses,

And I am carried as in arms as in song

As in memory

As in dust in a sunbeam, weightless

As your watercolour hope.

-

[doormatty3]

Ocean Eyes: Chapter 8 (Orm Marius x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Ocean Eyes Masterlink

Summary:

[Orm Marius x Female Reader] [Orm Marius x You]

The ocean has always fascinated you - the ebb and flow of its water, the marine life in the sea and the wild and untamed beauty it exudes. Your attempts to explain this fascination have always fallen short. But when you meet Orm at the seaside one rainy day you find, that he just understands.  You offer to show him around since he is not from the city. And you are intrigued by his rather strange quirks and his regal demeanour.  After all, how could you not? When his eyes mirror the ocean itself, deep and incredibly blue. OR: You impress Orm with the surface world and he impresses you with his Atlantean cock

Wordcount: 4753

A/N: This chapter is just smut. Pure filth. - it's also the last one so : thank you for reading everyone and I hope you enjoy the climax of this story (hehe)

Almost tentatively, Orm reaches over and lightly cups your breasts in his hands. He squeezes them gently, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, making you moan softly as the sensation races through your whole body.

He repeats this motion, carefully weighing each tit and giving it a firm squeeze before starting to nip on your neck. You shudder against him when his teeth gaze over your skin, and you buck against him when he starts to plant soft, teasing kisses all around your breasts, moving towards your nipples.

With his fingers tracing patterns over your sensitive skin, you can’t help but feel the heat building between your legs. His touch is electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. 

He begins to lick and suck on them, paying attention to each one individually, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger, watching as they harden under his touch.

You feel his heated gaze on you as he continues to tease and torment your boobs and nipples, pinching and pulling them, making you squirm and moan softly. Each tuck and touch edging you on and upping the fire in your veins.

When his other hand reaches down to stroke his hardening cock over the fabric of his trousers, you feel like your arousal skyrockets. And almost automatically, and drawn by the mesmerising sight of Orm, you find yourself sinking to your knees in front of him.

As you lower yourself, your eyes remain locked with Orm’s, and you see him swallow heavily, his Adam’s apple bobbing and his hands falling from your breasts.

Your fingers deftly work to tug at the wet fabric of Orm’s pants, pulling them down with a deliberate yet teasing slowness. As the fabric clings to his form, it accentuates the contours of his muscular thighs and strong calves - and the growing bulge of his cock. 

When the pants finally yield, revealing more of his bare form, you find yourself pressing your tights together, feeling arousal pooling low in your belly more prominently now. 

With a final tuck, the pants fall around his ankles, and Orm stands before you with a raw and unguarded allure framed by the mystical glow of the grotto. His dick, half hard, is your current focal point, and you reach out to close your hand around him, eliciting a deep groan from him.

One hand at the base of him, you start to jerk him off slowly, looking into his deep blue eyes that burn with desire. You feel him getting harder with each stroke, and you savour the little grunts he lets out.

Almost teasingly, you lick over the head of his dick with one short motion, tasting the salty flavour of his precum on your tongue. Orm’s hips jerk involuntarily when you do it again, wanting you to do more. 

But you’re not ready to give in just yet; the thrill of teasing him, of stoking the fire, is too enticing. So, with a deliberate slowness, you repeat the motion, maintaining eye contact. As you see his fingers twitch, a silent acknowledgement of his escalating desire, you decide to push him further and whisper, “Make me yours, King Orm.”

The effect is immediate. 

Orm’s gaze intensifies, and you can almost feel the surge of desire coursing through him. In a sudden, decisive move, he places his hands on either side of your head.

“Open wide,” he commands, his voice taking on a husky tone that resonates in the grotto, his words leaving no room for hesitation.

With a sense of surrender, you comply, parting your lips in readiness as his cock hovers above your mouth. God, you love, how you can rile him up with that. 

He pushes the head of his thick cock in, and you feel your lips stretch around it. 

When he moans softly at the sensation, his hands gripping tightly onto your head, forcing you down further, you rub your thighs together - you have him where you want him. 

Your throat moves up and down as you try your best to take him all in, every inch of him filling you. 

As you’re not fast enough for him, he begins to thrust into your mouth, his hips moving back and forth as he takes control. He groans deeply with each stroke, his cock hitting the back of your throat, making you gag slightly.

His hands move from the side of your face to grip onto your hair, guiding him deeper into your mouth, and you moan around him, feeling spit collect around your lips and seeing shadows dance at the edges of your vision. 

Orm grows more impassioned as he feels your moans vibrate around his cock, and encouraged by your liking of this treatment, his grip on your hair tightens, pulling your head back to meet his thrusts.

You are trying your best to keep up with his thrusts, but you start to feel light-headed already from the lack of proper breathing. Not that it really bothers you - you feel your cunt getting wetter and wetter as desire clashes through you like an unstoppable current. 

He doesn’t let up and keeps thrusting into your mouth, filling it with his cock, making you take in every inch of him as you gag around him, spit dripping down onto the floor of the grotto.

Throughout every stroke of his dick, he keeps his eyes locked onto yours, making sure that you are alright with everything he does and that you won’t black out. 

“You belong to me,“ he growls, his blue eyes feral and blown wide by desire as he holds you in place, making sure not to stray from the rhythm of his thrusts.

You moan around him, his statement something so hot that you can’t help yourself. 

As his cock starts to throb inside of your mouth and his strokes grow more desperate, you know that he’s close and eager to cum. 

“So good,” he praises you, his voice low and husky. “You’re driving me wild.”

You start to swirl your tongue around his dick as he fucks your mouth, encouraging him to cum, and soon enough, you feel his cock pulsing and his hot cum filling your mouth and throat as he continues to thrust.

“That’s it,” he pants as his hips buck wildly, and he holds you in place, his grip on your hair tightening slightly. “Swallow every drop, honey.”

You moan at the taste and greedily swallow - the way he took charge and manhandled you just makes you want to please him.

With a sigh of satisfaction, Orm allows you to release his cock from your mouth. Thick strands of spit connect his dick to your lips as you catch your breath. 

As you glance up to meet Orm’s gaze, you’re once again captivated by his appearance. His hair, now dishevelled and wet, frames his face in a way that adds an enticing allure. The dark blue of his eyes, intensified by desire, holds a magnetic pull that draws you in.

Orm’s chest heaves with the weight of deep breaths, a result of the escalating passion between you. The combination of sweat and water on his skin glistens in the soft light of the grotto, creating a mesmerising sheen. Each droplet seems to trace a path along the contours of his well-defined chest, accentuating the physicality that makes him a formidable presence.

He gracefully kneels down, aligning himself with you in a tender gesture. With a gentle touch, he wipes away the mingled traces of spit and tears from your face. His movements are careful, a testament to the intimacy of the moment.

Once the physical traces are erased, Orm’s lips seek yours in a deep, passionate kiss. 

Orm breaks the kiss, his fingers gently smoothing back your hair as he whispers with a husky intensity, “I’ll open you up for me, honey. Before I take you.” The weight of his words, laden with desire and promise, hangs in the air, “Before I make you my Queen.”

You can only respond with a soft mewl, an instinctive reaction to the anticipation and arousal coursing through you. Pressing against him, you convey a silent surrender to the passion that binds you together in the secluded grotto. 

Orm’s movements are deliberate and tender as he reaches for his discarded shirt, the damp fabric clutched in his strong hands. The ambient glow of the grotto highlights the contours of his features, casting a mesmerising play of light and shadow across his face.

With a graceful motion, he lays the shirt on the hard floor, creating a makeshift cushion. 

Gently, Orm guides you down, lowering you onto the improvised surface. You feel the contrast between the hardness of the grotto floor and the softer touch provided by his shirt.

The wet fabric of your pants clings to your skin, but Orm’s movements are deliberate and unhurried, his hands deftly navigating the contours of your body as he begins to peel away the damp clothing.

Each inch of exposed skin, revealed as the fabric retreats, catches the soft glow of the grotto’s magical light. The sensation is both intimate and exhilarating, a celebration of vulnerability in the embrace of the underwater sanctuary. Orm’s focus remains steadfast, his eyes fixed on the unveiling canvas before him.

As the wet pants descend, the cool rush of air on your now-bared skin is a tantalizing contrast. The glistening droplets of water that cling to your legs catch the ambient light, creating a shimmering effect that mirrors the enchantment of the underwater world.

Orm’s movements pause momentarily, allowing the weight of the moment to linger. His gaze locks with yours, and in the ambient glow of the underwater light, his eyes take on an intense, almost otherworldly quality as he pulls your legs apart. 

With a hand on your thighs to spread them further and his eyes focus on your wet cunt that glistens in the soft light, and his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You can’t help but let out a quiet whimper as you clench your pussy - this man will kill you with his handsomeness at some point.  

Wordlessly he trails his fingers down your sides before gently parting your cunt. A low moan escapes him when he feels how wet you are and looks up at you, arousal evident in his blue eyes before he slides the first knuckle of his index finger inside you.

You whimper and buck your hips. The sensation of his fingers at your pussy is something you’ll never get used to. But you’re also already so worked up so there is no need for him to take it that slow. 

As if Orm can read it in your eyes he quickly slides two of his thick fingers inside you, curling them upwards to graze the spot that makes you see stars. 

“Orm, please,” your voice is pleading and breathy as you prompt him to hurry up. The prospect of finally having his cock inside you makes you even more needy than normally. 

His lips form a smirk as he slowly keeps thrusting his fingers into your wet cunt, savouring your soft moans. Your hips meet every stroke of his hand as the long digits stretch you deliciously. 

An electric sensation courses through you when he leans down and takes one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while keeping a steady pace with his fingers, his other hand caressing your thigh,

Much to your dismay, he lets go of your nipple again, making you whine. You feel yourself getting closer to the edge, every stroke inside your cunt like sparking a flint - and you know that you’re close to burning. 

“You’re so tight and warm around my fingers,” Orm’s voice is low and husky with desire as he drives his fingers into you, a soft squelching sound audible whenever he pushes in.

Finally, he puts his thumb to your clit, tracing small circles to stimulate you as he picks up the pace of fucking your wet pussy, making you whimper and moan softly. 

Orm leans down, his lips brushing against yours as he continues to finger you. His tongue darts out, tracing the outline of your lips before slipping into your mouth, capturing you in a wet kiss while his fingers move in tandem with his tongue, stretching and filling you up completely.

He breaks the kiss to look at you and whispers, “That’s it. Give in to me.”

With that, he adds a third finger, stretching you even further, making you gasp loudly. It’s almost too much as he stuffs his thick digits into your cunt, but it also feels just perfect.

His fingers move in and out of you, finding that perfect spot that drives you wild. Orm’s other hand grips your thigh tightly, his fingers digging into your skin, and he whispers sweet nothings to you, coaxing you to cum.

When you do, it feels like hot and pulsing fire racing through your veins as you buck your hips and loudly moan. 

Orm continues to fuck you with short, deep thrusts that prolong your orgasm as you clench your cunt around him, whimpering.

After one final hard stroke, he gently pulls his fingers from your cunt, and they glisten in the grotto light. The subtle play of light creates an ethereal sheen, turning his digits into mesmerising reflections of the underwater radiance.

With deliberate grace, Orm lifts his fingers to his mouth. The movement is purposeful as his tongue darts out, tracing the contours of his fingers as he licks off the remnants of your juices before leaning down to kiss you. His tongue invades your mouth once more, mingling with the taste of your arousal.

Orm breaks the kiss, one hand tenderly cradling your cheek for a short time as he gazes into your eyes. Despite the feral undertones that linger in his overall demeanour, there’s an undeniable sweetness reflected in the depths of his blue eyes. 

To you, it feels as though time stands still for a fleeting moment before the sensation of his hard cock at your wet cunt registers.

A soft moan escapes you as Orm pulls back to fist his dick against your pussy, coating himself in your juices. He drags the head of his cock over your slit, parting your cunt and nudging your clit every so often, making you buck your hips. 

You can’t help but stare at Orm, captivated by the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, accentuated by the heavy puffs of breath, revealing the moment’s intensity.  You also notice the subtle blush that has crept onto his chest and neck.

The underwater setting accentuates the fluidity of his motions, as the play of light on his damp skin highlights the defined contours of his form, drawing your focus to the flexing biceps that ripple with each stroke of his dick against you. 

You buck your hips again, desperate for more - you’re sure that your pussy is dripping by now, and you are desperate for Orm’s cock. 

Every little movement, every little visual testament only serves to heighten your arousal that seems to crash through your veins like the rough waves in the water. Currently, you’re only waiting for Orm to pull you under and make you break. 

You’re so far gone that you don’t even notice the little whines you let out or the constant stream of words, mostly consisting of please and Orm.

With his gaze set between your legs, he lets some spit fall onto your cunt and his dick that’s still rubbing against it. The gesture, so lewd and unexpected, makes you moan loudly again. 

Finally, God finally, he pushes into you, his thick head nudging your cunt open.

Orm’s mouth falls open as his eyes fall closed, his dark lashes resting against his cheekbones. He fills you with short, shallow, slow thrusts. Each and every stroke takes the breath from your lungs, making you moan and whimper as he stretches your pussy.

When he reaches the hilt, he pauses for a second as you adjust to his size. Orm’s hand guides yours, pressing it flat against the warmth of your stomach, and the unexpected pressure makes you clench around him, causing Orm to groan.

“Do you feel me, honey?” he murmurs, and his hips gently buck, allowing you to feel his dick through your skin.

“Please, Orm, move,” you choke out, already drunk on the sensation of him inside you. 

Orm starts to thrust slowly and deliberately, giving you time to adjust to the feeling of him filling you up. The sensation of the unhurried drag of his cock makes you moan.

Feeling you relax around him, Orm begins to thrust deeper into your body. His hips slam against yours with each stroke, driving his cock further inside of you. He grunts and groans with pleasure as he takes you.

“You feel so good,” you pant as nothing exists in your mind except Orm. The grotto’s ambient glow casts a luminous aura on his features, enhancing the allure of his presence.

His eyes, already deep pools of desire, darken further at your praise. The intense hue of his gaze reflects the passion swirling within him. The compliment, uttered in the hushed space of the grotto, stirs something primal in Orm. His pupils dilate, consuming the vibrant blue of his irises, mirroring the depths of the ocean.

You can sense the effect of your words, the way they ignite a fiery response within him. The feral edge to his gaze intensifies as a half-smile plays on Orm’s lips, and he picks up the pace, slamming into you harder and faster as he loses himself in the sensation of owning you completely.

His hips slap against yours as he continues to pound into you, his cock hitting every inch of your tight cunt. It feels like he is everywhere, and you arch your back to meet his thrusts, moaning as the head of his dick scrapes against the spot that makes you see stars.

Feeling how much you’re enjoying this, Orm starts to grind his hips against your slick pussy with a satisfying squelch. He leans down and kisses you fiercely, his tongue darting into your mouth as he feels you begin to clench around him. 

“That’s it, honey,” he groans as he repeats the motion again, making you whimper. His cock feels huge inside you, stretching you to the limit as he takes what he wants. 

His hands grip your hips tightly as he thrusts into you harder, his cock throbbing in sync with your pulses.

When his hand comes down to rub fast, hard circles around your clit, you cry out his name. 

“Please, Orm,” you are half sobbing, driven mad by the pleasure he is providing, “Please, I’m gonna cum.”

It feels like he’s picking up the pace again, hitting the perfect spot deep inside you as he flicks your clit, lifting you higher and higher until you fall.

You feel your orgasm burning through you as you crash; it’s searing you from deep within. 

Digging your fingers into the hard muscles of his shoulders, you scream loudly and incoherently while your body gives over every sense of control to the pleasure Orm provides. Your body jerks against him as he continues to fuck hard into your fluttering cunt. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Orm grunts above you, his rhythm starting to falter slightly as he starts to chase his own peak,

Orm’s voice is nothing more than a husky whisper as he murmurs honey, perfect and beautiful, while thrusting deep and hard inside your cunt, causing you to whine and whimper beneath him.

“I’m gonna cum, honey.” he rasps out with a dark tone, his hips slapping against yours loudly, “Gonna fill you up, fuck, gonna make you drip of my Atlantean cum.” 

You can’t do much but stare up at Orm as he takes you as if he is possessed and feral. He moves with a primal intensity that leaves you whimpering and moaning, not able to think clearly. 

The furrow of his brows speaks of concentration, his entire being focused on cumming deep inside you.  The play of his muscles, each flex and ripple, becomes a mesmerising spectacle in the soft grotto light. 

With one final deep thrust, his eyes roll back in pleasure as he moans loudly and throaty. 

His cock pulses inside you as he fills you up, his hips jerking involuntarily, grinding against you as if to make sure every drop is where it belongs.

You feel every spurt of his cum, coating your walls, splashing hot against your insides, and you moan in tandem with him, bucking your hips and clenching around him. Orm grunts in satisfaction as he feels your cunt constricting around him, milking every last drop of his cum. 

“Yes, honey, take it all,” he grunts before biting into your shoulder and thrusting into you a few more times, fucking his cum deeper inside you with short stabs.

As he slows his pace and looks down at you, the flickering radiance of the grotto light plays upon his features, highlighting the sculpted lines of his forehead and the defined arch of his brows. His eyes, like sapphires set ablaze, seem to pierce through the dimness with an unwavering focus solely on you. The subtle dance of shadows enhances the intensity of his gaze, making it impossible for you to look away.

Orm’s hair, wet and tousled from the passionate sex you just had, frames his face in dark, glistening strands. The sweat droplets catch the ambient light, creating a delicate play of reflections that only adds to the allure of his appearance. The faint sheen on his bare chest gives his skin a bronzed glow, further emphasising the primal energy that radiates from him.

His big hands stroke your cheeks gently, his fingers tracing your jawline softly. 

With each caress of his hands on your cheeks, you feel the contrasting sensations of strength and gentleness. His touch, like the dance of the grotto light on his features, is a delicate balance of passion and tenderness. As he leans in, the contours of his face become more pronounced, his lips nearing yours with an almost magnetic pull.

As Orm’s lips meet yours, it’s an electrifying convergence of passion and desire. The softness of his kiss contrasts with the underlying intensity, creating a sensation that sends shivers down your spine. 

His hands, strong yet tender, cup your face as the kiss deepens. The grotto light, with its gentle illumination, accentuates the contours of his features, creating an artful interplay of light and shadow.

When the kiss finally breaks, Orm looks at you with eyes that hold a myriad of emotions—love, desire, and an unspoken connection. 

Orm’s breath comes in heavy pants, and he can’t help but express his awe in a husky whisper. “So fucking beautiful.“ His fingers, still tingling with the remnants of shared passion, trail through your hair, a tender caress against your skin. 

The gentle touch transforms into a possessive declaration as he rasps, “You’re mine.” His voice, heavy with a mixture of lust and possession, reverberates in the space. 

“Yes, yours,” you answer him, breathless, your fingers threading through his sweaty hair, the damp strands clinging to your fingers. 

He gifts you one of those radiant smiles, a dazzling expression that illuminates his whole face, causing the skin around his eyes to crinkle with genuine warmth. His fingers, tender and gentle, weave through your hair as he gradually pulls out of you, his cock withdrawing with a soft pop.

You almost whimper at the loss of contact as you feel his cum leaking from your cunt, but instead of retreating completely, he starts to trace intricate patterns on your skin with his big fingers. The gentle caress elicits a shiver down your spine, and you revel in the sensation as his touch weaves a delicate tapestry of intimacy.

As you lie on the grotto floor, the ambient glow of the underwater light casts a gentle luminosity around you.

The silence that follows is punctuated by the sounds of the underwater world—the distant murmur of marine life, the gentle sway of seaweed, and the occasional ripple of water. Orm’s breath, still heavy from the intensity of the moment, mingles with yours in the confined space.

Orm’s eyes, now softer than before, reflect the tenderness that lingers in the wake of your intimate connection. The feral intensity has given way to a quiet satisfaction, and his gaze remains locked onto yours.

As the minutes pass, there’s a gradual return to a sense of calm. 

Orm, still lying beside you, shifts slightly to create a more comfortable space. The bronze and gold hues of his wet hair catch the ambient light, creating a mesmerising contrast against the darker backdrop of the grotto. 

“I have something for you,” he whispers into the silence as he leans over to retrieve something from his pants. 

Your curiosity is piqued, and you watch intently as he pulls out a small, delicate object from his pocket. The soft glow of the grotto illuminates the item, revealing a beautifully crafted necklace.

The pendant dangles from a fine, intricately designed Atlantean chain. The metal is a blend of bronze and silver, with subtle engravings that depict underwater scenes  -  swirling currents, schools of fish, and the elegant dance of aquatic life. The craftsmanship is exquisite, a testament to Atlantean artistry that seamlessly combines elegance and functionality.

In the centre of the pendant, nestled within a delicate setting, shimmers a cerulean blue ornament. The vibrant hues of the glass capture the play of light in the grotto, casting a mesmerising kaleidoscope of colours around the surroundings. 

As Orm presents the necklace to you, there’s a softness in his gaze, an unspoken sentiment that transcends words.

You take the necklace in your hands, marvelling at its intricate details and the way the ornament catches the ambient light.“Orm, it’s truly incredible,” you express, genuine admiration lacing your voice. “Is this made from the sea glass we found?”

The centrepiece of the pendant seems to be the sea glass you thought you lost, its vibrant blue hue that reminds you so much of Orm’s eyes unmistakable.

Orm smiles, a hint of sheepishness gracing his expression, and the affectionate gleam in his eyes intensifies, “Yes, it is. I wanted you to have something to remember our time here. This necklace carries a piece of Atlantis and the sea  -  just like you now do.”

Your voice softens as you touch his cheek, gazing into his eyes. “It’s not just a part of Atlantis, Orm. It’s also a part of you. Whenever I miss you, I can look at this necklace and feel like I’m looking into your eyes.”

With a gentle and caring touch, Orm helps you put on the necklace, the cool metal resting against your skin.  

Orm’s hand gently rests on your bare shoulder, his touch conveying a tender warmth as he gazes at you with affection. 

In the soft murmur of the underwater world, he whispers, “I love you.”

Meeting his gaze, you take in the depth of his blue eyes, now softened with sincerity and affection. 

“I love you too, Orm,” your voice, though gentle, resonates in the watery stillness. 

Orm’s radiant smile illuminates the underwater space, a testament to the genuine joy and affection he feels in this shared moment. As he leans in to kiss you, the play of light from the grotto accentuates the contours of his features, creating an ethereal glow around him.

The kiss, an intimate exchange in the submerged haven, is both tender and passionate. Orm’s lips meet yours with a fervour that mirrors the depth of his emotions. The gentle current seems to sway in harmony with this underwater dance as if nature itself acknowledges the beauty of your relationship.

You revel in the sensation of his kiss, feeling the warmth and tenderness that accompanies it. His closeness, the press of his lips against yours, becomes a tangible affirmation of the love you share. 

As the kiss deepens, you find yourself losing track of time, immersed in the embrace of love and desire. The underwater current seems to echo the rhythm of your heartbeat, creating a serene melody that accompanies this shared moment with Orm. In the midst of the aquatic serenity, his kiss becomes a poignant reminder of the profound connection you’ve discovered beneath the waves.

[makoredeyes]

(are these still open?x) 30. Misraaks and Saint x

YESSSSS thank you for sending me probably one of my favorite prompts! <3 <3 <3

#30 - as a comfort

The Market District was a bright place full of color, movement, light, and sound. Life moved all around Saint as he ambled carefully around shoppers and booths alike, admiring the people as much as the wares on display.

There were enough humans here mingling with the Eliksni of House Light that Saint almost blended in, if it weren't for his significant stature, and that, for the moment at least, he was the only Exo in the crowd. It warmed his heart to see Humanity and their once enemies mixing peacefully. It was a beautiful day. The sun was out, the sky was clear. The scent of flowers mixed with sweetly with roasting meats and breads. A pair of Drekhs plucked away on acoustic guitars in the shade of a tree, the couple tinkering on a duet together. Saint shot them a smile as he passed and one raised a secondary arm in greeting. The other, a transplant from another house, was still regrowing docked arms, but tipped its snout up instead. Saint's smile brightened as he passed along, ducking under low-hanging flower pots and through an archway.

Eido's grotto was cooler, but no less bright than outside. There were flowers everywhere, and butterflies danced in sunbeams filtering down through the ceiling. Saint reckoned they must be drawn to her sweet demeanor because he'd seen them nowhere else outside. One curious, sociable creature knew another, he reasoned warmly.

The young Scribe was nowhere to be seen, but her concoctions burbled and bubbled quietly on overladen workbenches, so Saint thought she must not be too far away. She never was.

She didn't like to leave her father out of her sight for too long these days.

Neither did Saint.

Unconcerned with examining Eido's work too closely, Saint turned away from that patch of sunshine to the shadow in the corner, his eyes dimming.

Misraakskel sat slumped in his throne, arms folded tight around his carapace, head lowered, the lights of his helm dim as he slumbered. For a minute, Saint stands planted where he is, watching. Misraaks is shrinking, his armor loose on his body, his limbs slim. The seat of the great chair supporting him seems to swallow his body instead of surround it.

There is no ignoring that the Kell of the House of Light is ailing.

As Saint watches, Misraaks' head tosses, the Kell hissing audibly with a hard vent of Ether. His legs twitch, and the claws of his hands scrabble against the armor covering his thighs. He jerks, moaning. The shadows surrounding him have grown longer. Darker.

Saint knows the evil that haunts him.

Looking around and confirming they are alone, he strides across the room and right up the dias, squaring his shoulders as he walks.

"Leave him alone, you vile wretch," he hisses, his voice low. He is looking at Misraaks, but he is addressing someone - something - else. He knows what is there, even if he cannot see it, and he is not afraid. "You are not allowed power here this day. Be gone!" He reaches Misraaks, and a distinct chill, wet and slippery like an ice cube, slides right down his spine to settle uncomfortably low in his gut, but Saint ignores it.

"Misraakskel," he whispers, bending low over his friend. "You are strong. You are loved. And today, you are safe with the Saint." He bends at the waist and kisses the knuckles of one of Misraaks' hands gently.

The shadows seem to ease, and Misraaks heaves a sigh, his slumber becoming restful as soon as Saint touches him. 

Saint pulls back, surprised that was truly all it had taken, but then nods curtly to himself, satisfied with the results.

"Good," he murmurs to himself. "Then I will stay."

With that, he folds himself up at Misraaks' feet and settles down to stand guard for as long as it takes.

It was the least he could do, after all, after everything.

[awkward-tension-art]

Bacta and Bandages Chp.9 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 8. Epilogue

Crystals

CW: Slow burn, Two fools trying to ignore their crushes, underground caves, non-canon planet and species, talk of unfair treatment of clones, being lost, kisses, Anakin is a little shit, Reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), reader is a doctor, if I miss a tag LMK!

Tag list (Thank you everyone!): @heavenseed76 @arctrooper69 @ghostlyembassy @notgonnaedit @tentakelspektakel

You couldn’t breathe. 

Your mouth filled with cold water, flooding your taste buds with salt and dirt. Shouting wasn’t possible as you tumbled under the harsh current. It threw you, disorienting your senses. At some point, you dropped again into another running body of water. A smaller waterfall, you guessed. 

Your back slammed into what you assumed was the bottom of the river. 

An iron grip on your arm yanked you upward, letting your head breach the surface to take in a lungful of air. Despite getting your face above water, it still tried to ragdoll your body under the current. 

That same grip continued to pull you, and once you got your bearings, you started kicking your legs. You opened your eyes, barely making out Rex’s blue and white armor treading the same dark, cold water. His presence grounded you, and it was like everything snapped together all at once. You moved your hand, holding his tightly as you both fought against the heavy current to get to the edge of the river. 

Your feet hit smooth stones and allowed you to stabilize. With your boots on the ground, you and your Captain stumbled out of the freezing rapids. 

Once you were out of the dangerous clutches of the current, you fell to your knees, breathing heavily. 

Rex did the same, pulling off his helmet to cough up water. As he tried to get his breath back, he hit his com, “G-General Skywalker…” He croaked, only to be met with static. After getting no response, he pressed it again, “Commander Tano…?” 

Static. 

You lowered your head, swallowing. Coms didn’t work…

Of course they didn’t work.

After a stretch of silence, you spoke, “Are you hurt?” Looking around the two of you, you took in your surroundings. You both had surfaced in another cavern. This one had large silver shards protruding from the walls, ceiling and floor. Glowing moss and mushrooms lit up the area, so you weren’t entirely blind.

Rex perked up, moving to stand and offering a hand to you, “No, I’m not….Are you?”

You took it and stood, giving him a small smile, “I’m good. Let's…find a way back.”

He nodded, putting his helmet back on, “Stay close. We don’t know what might be hiding in the damn walls.”

You nodded and followed, brushing a hand over one of the massive metal fragments. Unsurprisingly, they were cold. Almost icy to the touch. If you had to guess, the water you and Rex tumbled in had come from the surface. 

As the two of you walked through the underground paths, the Captain would periodically check his com, hoping to get a connection to the General or Commander. 

As you navigated the tunnels, the metal shards began to be replaced with more of the coral like stone, moss and glowing mushroom plants. Crystal embedded in the ceiling gave a soft light, looking more like stars than gems. 

It was…rather pretty. 

You reached up, hand brushing over a white, glowing lily speckled with black. However, once you touched it, the flower closed suddenly and shrank into the rock it was growing out of. There were more up ahead and they grew in number, the further you and Rex walked. 

The underground tunnel opened up into a chamber that was more grotto than cavern. The air echoed with the running water of a stream. Moss, patches of grass and flowers replaced the cold rock of the ground. Vines, with small glowing berries, hung from branching stalagmites and protruding crystals on the wall. Small bugs, which lit up with a soft golden white light, danced around both you and the clone beside you. 

“Woah…” Your eyes were wide, taking in the rather beautiful area. You stepped forward, raising a finger to one of the glowing bugs. It landed gently on your nail, flexed its wings and hovered off to continue its flying, “It’s…beautiful…”

Rex was looking at you as you spoke, however, you didn’t notice, “Yes…I agree.” He continued onward, trying not to stare too long, “let’s…let’s continue.” clearing his throat, he tried his com again. 

Among the static, you swear you heard Anakin’s voice, “Rex…Collapse…Where….” Rex tried to respond, but was met with more broken distortion.

“The General must be close, if we have a connection.” You perked up, walking over to him. 

“We should still try and find…” The Captain's voice faded off, watching a butterfly with large, bioluminescent wings hover close. He raised a hand to try and swat it but you grabbed his fingers, halting him. it approached, landing softly on his visor. The beautiful bug fluttered its wings a couple of times before going still.  

You couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped your lips.

He cleared his throat, “Now, uhh…little bug, that’s…I can’t see.” Slowly, he raised his free hand again, letting the glowing butterfly walk along his palm, “There we go, buddy.” After a few more moments, it beat its massive wings again and got into the air. 

For a second, you forgot you were holding his hand. You didn’t want to let go, even after you began walking again. 

He was the one who pulled away. 

You tried not to let it bother you. Though, it did. 

You’ve realized that your ‘passing crush’ was more than that. There were true, deep feelings for the captain in your heart. Something you couldn’t shake, no matter how hard you tried. 

You wondered when these feelings began.

Was it the time he helped you with your aim?

When he was the one who got the others to sign a card after Ferrum’s death?

One of the many times he thanked you after you bandaged his wounds on the battlefield? 

Or maybe it was when you first saw him smile. When you saw how warm and lovely he looked when he did so. When he smiled, a true, happy smile, he wasn’t the 501st captain. He was Rex. 

You loved Rex. 

And it ruined you. Clones weren’t permitted romantic partners. Even if he had the same feelings, neither of you could pursue them. Not only was it against the rules, he was your Captain, and you were his legions doctor.

You walked behind him, watching his armored back. He was a soldier. A good soldier. He’d never break the rules to be with you. 

So you swallowed your feelings and followed his steps.

The grotto was bigger than you originally thought. It took more than 20 minutes to get to the other side to look for a way forward. You brushed aside some vines, revealing another tunnel. It was pure darkness save for those glowing star-like crystals that dotted the walls and ceilings. The small amount of illumination reflected off multicolored stone. 

When you and Rex stepped forward, it was like you were walking inside the galaxy.

“I can see why the Drosari like living in the tunnels.” the clone beside you spoke quietly, “Though, as pretty as all of this is, I’d like to no longer be underground.”

You let out a small chuckle, “If there wasn’t the threat of a cave-in, I might like it here.” Your hand ghosted over the crystals in the wall, “These caves are beautiful.” 

“I agree, but I think I prefer to have a solid, metal ship around me rather than rock.” Rex responded, shrugging slightly. 

“You prefer a Venator ceiling over an open sky?”

“Well,” He grazed his palm over a cluster of gems that reflected soft purple light, “Other than Kamino, It’s all I’ve ever known as a home.”

Your heart twisted in your chest and you turned to look at him. You couldn’t see his expression through his helmet when you asked your question, “What would your ideal home be?” 

“What?” He seemed surprised by your question. After a few beats the Captain answered, “Truthfully, I haven’t thought about it.”

“Not even a little?” you asked, walking beside him, “When the war is over, where would you like to go?”

“We’re not made to think like that.” Rex took off his helmet, and turned to look at it in his hands, “We’re soldiers. We were made to fight. It’s why we age twice as fast, so when the fighting is done, we…don’t stay for too long.” 

You swallowed, throat tightening.

“And…what if you didn’t age twice as fast?” Your voice shook slightly before you cleared your throat to speak, “You could choose anywhere to live. Where would it be?” Without thinking, you rested a hand against his arm.

“I don’t know.” he sighed, “Why does it matter?”

Your words were stubborn, “Because what you think matters to me.” You don’t know why his answer mattered so much to you. Even in the low crystal light you could tell he was confused by your pressing. 

Rex blinked, “I’m a clone, doc. You don’t need to-”

“You're more than a clone to me.” you stepped forward, getting closer to him, “And you're more than a soldier…”

There was a flick of emotion in his gaze. His eyes reflected the small illuminating crystals, making them look like amber with stars trapped inside.

By the galaxy, his eyes were beautiful. 

He swallowed, looking back at his helmet before meeting your eyes, “I suppose I’d want to…have my home wherever you are.” The nervousness was clear in his tone. And you could feel ever so slight shaking from his arm.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you got closer. With a trembling hand, you raised it to his cheek. 

Rex was tense and frozen in place, looking at you. His gorgeous eyes were a storm of anxiety and uncertainty. His small confession was honest but most likely terrifying for him. He was created and raised to be a soldier, and he was in unknown territory now. 

He wasn’t taught anything more than warfare. 

You held power over him, intentional or not. He was a clone. In the eyes of many he was property with no thoughts or feelings. A droid to take orders, nothing more. He wasn’t allowed rights or liberties.

So you gave him the power to choose what he wanted.

“Rex?” You whispered his name, breath ghosting his skin, “Can I kiss you?” 

The Captain nodded slowly, “Yes…Please…” 

You’d most likely be his first. His first kiss. His first romantic partner. His first…everything.

Gently and slowly, you leaned forward, connecting his lips with yours. It was tender, soft and chaste. But it held so much emotion. The only reason you pulled back was to breathe, but he chased you slightly, following your lips. 

The Captain blinked his eyes open, meeting your gaze. His helmet dropped to the ground, and his palms were on your cheeks. This time, he initiated by leaning forward and kissing you. It was an uncertain kiss, but one that still spoke with so much feeling.

“Gar cuyir ner kar'ta.” He whispered, once you both broke away to breathe properly.

You smiled, leaning against him, “Gar cuyir ner cyar'ika.”

Rex laughed softly, pulling you to kiss you again. 

…Until you heard the clearing of a throat. 

You and the Captain jerked away, eyes wide, coming face-to-face with General Skywalker.

Anakin was standing at the other end of the cave, one eyebrow raised and a satisfied grin on his face. His arms were crossed, and he seemed way too pleased. Like a Loth-cat in a sunbeam. 

Fives was next to him. You could tell by his posture that his jaw was dropped in his helmet.

“G-general!” Rex saluted, “I-we…”

“I knew it,” the Jedi’s grin didn’t falter as he spoke, “Like I said a long time ago, Rex. All of my men are free to pursue whatever relationships they want. I won’t tell a soul. Neither will Fives, right trooper?”

After a second, he nodded, “r-right. Yes sir! I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

The 501st captain let out a relieved sigh, “Thank you, General…But…may I ask, how did you find us? Our coms have been cut off.” 

“I had to use the Force,” He responded, turning to face the exit of the tunnel, “I wasn’t going to leave my most loyal captain or talented doctor to wander around some caves. Now come on, we still have a mining operation to stop.”

You shared a look with your cyar’ika before he put his helmet on to follow. You kept close to him, feeling pure happiness in your chest.

Cyar’ika….

You liked calling Rex that.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

So how about some angst romance stuff

Goat!Reader was dating and perhaps married to Sozo when Sozo switched back to Dr. Sozonius and they aren't in love anymore, just. Sozonius doesn't remember anything from when he was Sozo, and reader loves Sozo, not Sozonius

"What did you do to him?"

Lamb jumped a little upon hearing the sound of a follower slamming the doors to their temple wide open, as they were in the midst of preparing for the next ritual.

They would have earned the harshest scolding if not for the fact it was you, the goat who decided to join their cult out of your own volition.

You were also the one who was wedded to Sozo--Anura's mushroom researcher who was driven to madness, died due to shroom overdose, and revived within the cult grounds..before finally being restored back to his old self.

All it took was simply depriving him (or rather the parasite on his head) of those same shrooms that once killed him. The fungus simply shriveled up and died, turning into nothing more than dust.

It ended up revealing his true age: as an elderly soul with little time left, but Lamb figured out a "fountain of youth" of sorts...and soon they and their followers got to know Dr. Sozonius.

One of the most intelligent scientists in all of the Old Faith.

Knowing how much he meant to you, Lamb would have thought you, of all people, would've been elated and thanking them endlessly for the "miracles" they somehow made happen, and brought your spouse back to you. Free of the parasite that took him away.

But for some reason..you were doing the exact opposite: condemning them in their own temple.

Why, though?

"I kept my promise. I told you I'd cure him, and I did..didn't I?" They hummed, closing their book as they stared down at you from behind the podium, wondering why you still looked so resentful.

"Lies. You killed the ant I loved."

Now it was their turn to be crossed. "[Y/n], you shouldn't be calling your divine leader a li-"

"He doesn't remember me at all!"

"....what?" Their eyebrows furrowed with confusion. "I mean..the fungi may have messed with his mind, and his memories aren't what they-"

"No..he..h-he doesn't know who I am anymore." Tears filled your eyes, gripping the sleeves of your robe. "He knows nothing of our vows..our wedding bands..the Mushroomos...not even how we met. He looks at me like a stranger. Like I'm the one eating shrooms!"

Their eyes widened a little, initially shocked by this revelation, but they were quick to double down with a scowl. "Listen, I'm terribly sorry to hear that. Truly, I am. But there's no way I could have known that was going to happen. You were wedded to an intelligent doctor, and I did my best to restore him. Just like you asked-"

"No...no, no, no...I never loved "Dr. Sozonius", Lamb. I loved Sozo."

A pause.

"You...never knew him as...?"

"No. When I got lost in Anura, his followers took me in..to the Spore Grotto. And Sozo..he showed that he cared, even if the fungi made him say some..questionable things. At times, I didn't know if he loved me for me or for the shrooms I've found across Heket's domain. But what we had...was real." You swallowed back more tears, your voice thick with emotion. "At our wedding, he..e-equated my love to being as addicting as those shrooms. And that day...I knew it wasn't the fungi talking, but his heart. He loved me, and now..he doesn't even know my name..."

As Lamb listened to your grief-striken ramblings, they felt their ears droop slightly more and more with each passing second. Yet their gaze remained firm as they stepped down from the podium, eyes full of sympathy.

"[Y/n], the Sozo you knew..it..it wasn't the real him. He was miserable, addicted. It was the fungi that convinced you-"

"Enough with the lies, damned Lamb.."

They stopped, noticing how you stared back at them with such hatred in your eyes...and he could see red starting to glow within them.

Indeed, they were eyes of a dissenter.

"Excuse me?"

"You killed my beloved, and replaced him with an impostor." You spat angrily, stomping your hoof as you sneered down at the sheep. "You think I'll accept him as that? The others will know my story...how you destroyed our love. You wouldn't hesitate to do the same to other couples, would you?!"

"You've got this all wrong, [y/n]. Sozonius is his real identity-"

"LIES!! ALL LIES!! I ONLY LOVED SOZO!!"

In blind rage, you raised your hand up--but before you could take any sort of action, their Red Crown manifested a giant shadowy claw that grabbed ahold of your ankle, tripping you.

As you grunted from the initial pain of your horns hitting the hardwood floors, you saw Lamb now sneering down at you this time.

"You were in love with a parasite. The monster that killed him in the first place. I cured him, set his mind free, restored his happiness and youth....and you repay me like this? With a threat to strike me?!" Sharp teeth began appearing in their mouth, and you could only stare back at them, shuddering a bit. "You'd rather see him suffer over and over again..than accept this is the real him?"

"I-I..refuse to accept this impostor you created."

"You will soon enough. But for now..I believe reeducation is an order. To show you that he's better off this way. Perhaps better off without you and your obsession." Lamb huffed, dragging you outside as you thrashed and clawed at the grass, all while the bewildered followers watched you being taken to the pillories.

Among them was Sozonius, who looked confused and a bit saddened when you called out his name.

"Sozo".

He didn't think you two were well-acquainted enough to warrant the nickname you've given him, and he didn't understand why you kept calling him that since the day he gained clarity and found himself chained up in the same pillory you were in now.

Except...you had no clarity, but rather started babbling nonsense about "love" and how Lamb lied to you.

He did pity you, yet at the same time was a little scared that you've mentioned a "wedding" like you both were already married.

But you weren't...right? He was a mushroom researcher, always on the go until he decided to settle down in Lamb's cult. He wouldn't have time for marriage.

How he wishes he could help you sort out these thoughts and let go of this "fantasy" you're living out. Maybe then, he'd be more willing to get to know more about you.

Until that happens, though, hopefully Lamb's methods of reeducation could help you.

[littlest-w01f]

Siren song

Tarquin x Euphonia

TARQUIN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: When Tarquin hears a soft voice singing to him from the ocean, he follows, someone saves him.

Cw: None

part one - part two - part three

It was nearly sunrise when Euphonia returned to the depths of the water where she lived, not that it mattered since the sun couldn't reach there, she had set the heir on the waterside, on the wet sand, not wanting him to get a good look at her.

She felt horrible, no amount of wiping away at her lips would rid her of the feeling of kissing him while he was under her sister's spell, doing something she'd hated her own species of doing.

Gently paddling back towards her underwater grotto, Euphonia let out a sigh as she slipped beneath the waves. The cool, clear water washed over her skin, cleansing away the remnants of her recent encounter with the surface world.

As she swam, she couldn't help but dwell on the events that had transpired. She felt a pang of guilt for having kissed the prince, even if it had been under compulsion. But she consoled herself with the thought that her actions had ultimately served a greater purpose - saving his life and breaking her sister's spell. Despite this, a part of her wondered if there might be more to their connection than just the fulfilment of a love spell.

Reaching her grotto, Euphonia emerged from the water in the underwater cave, her skin glowing in the dim light. As she is outside of her water, her Siren self going back to Fae.

When she opened her eyes, wiping away the droplets of water, finding Kryqa, her Kraken friend, "Hello, aren't you early?"

Kryqa, the massive Kraken, loomed large in the grotto, he was one of the least high fae-like lesser faes, he was what one would consider a true monster, his many tentacles brushing against the walls and sending ripples through the water, some curled around the gold Euphonia had collected from many centuries and ships that had crashed, the treasure from all around Prythian. His enormous eyes glowed in the darkness as he regarded Euphonia. "I could say the same about you," he rumbled, his voice echoing throughout the cave.

"Where were you, Euphonia?" Kryqa growled, tentacles wrapping around her scaled hips almost so she wouldn't escape, but they both knew it wasn't to scare her, anger in his eyes, there was no denying where she had been.

Euphonia swallowed, expression solemn. "I... I was at the shore" She sank onto a rock, his tentacles letting him go, the weight of her actions heavy upon her shoulders as her tail wrapped around the rock, not looking at Kryqa to avoid his disappointment.

"I had to kiss the heir to break the spell of my sister. And then I swam him to the shore..." Her voice trailed off.

Kryqa studied her closely, his gaze intense. "you know you can't do that right?" He hissed, then his tone turned softer than before, "If someone had seen you..."

"I was careful." Euphonia said in an instant, "Besides, dawn was a few hours away, no one saw me."

His tone softened, clearly concerned for his dear friend, even though she was being reckless. "What are you doing? Do you remember what happened last time you interfered with affairs of land Fae?"

"Yes, I do," Euphonia sighed heavily, her slender fingers combing through her long, colourful hair. Her gaze drifted toward the shimmering treasure piled high near the ceiling of the cavern. "Our people had died..."

Kryqa nodded slowly, his gaze shifting to the pile of treasure. "That we did. And yet here we are, still living, still breathing. Still making the same mistakes." He turned his attention back to her. "So tell me, what happens now? Are you visit him again?"

"No... It's over with." Euphonia shook her head, "I just wanted to free him from my sister, nothing else."

Kryqa watched her intently, studying every nuance of her expression. "Your eyes betray you." he finally said.

With those words hanging in the air between them, Kryqa unfurled one of his immense tentacles and used one to gently caress Euphonia's Fae cheek. "Promise me you won't go near him again," he murmured softly, concern evident in his voice.

"I swear..." Euphonia nodded, not wanting to put her friends in danger

"Good." With that, Kryqa left her grotto, leaving her alone in the rather dark place.

Darkness clouded his eyes, he was being shaken awake, and Tarquin opened his eyes with a gasp, eyes locking with a worried fishermale, his eyes cringed at the sharp summer sun as he was pulled up, the male fussing over him, cleaning his royal clothing of sand. he was surprised to feel himself dry, not remembering most of the night.

The last thing he remembered was diving off the shore and then drowning in a dark pit in the Summer oceans, his eyes were wide, his ears ringing as he was unfocused, he'd seen Sirens, they were real.

He placed a hand over his lips, almost remembering the kiss when the memory slipped away from him.

"My lord, are you alright?"

The words rang in his ears as he simply nodded at the male who held him stable, he simply nodded.

The fishermale helped the dazed prince to his feet, supporting him until he seemed steady enough to stand alone. The sun shone brightly now, casting long shadows across the sand and turning everything a golden hue.

"My mate has gone to altert the High Lord that we found you," the fishermale spoke. "We should get you back to the palace. The High Lord would be worried for your saftey."

Tarquin blinked slowly, nodding again. "Thank you," he murmured quietly, his gaze distant as he looked out to sea, trying to see any signs of the Siren he'd seen. "May I have a moment alone?"

The fisherman nodded, understanding the prince's need to take a moment to collect his thoughts. There was little they could do except wait, so he remained silent, merely a distance away by the prince's side in solidarity.

Tarquin stood at the edge of the shore, the water lapping gently at his feet. His mind was filled with images of the beautiful siren who'd saved him from certain death. He couldn't shake the feeling that their paths would cross again someday.

Tarquin spent a long time standing by the shore, his bare feet sinking into the warm sand as he stared out at the ocean. He couldn't shake the memory of those beautiful sirens from his mind, nor the strange sense of familiarity he'd felt when they sang.

Eventually, however, he was forced to turn away as the sound of approaching horses echoed across the beach. With a sigh, he made his way back to the waiting figures, climbing clumsily onto the horse provided without another word.

After what felt like ages but was likely only minutes later, the sound of hooves echoed in the distance. A carriage soon came into view, drawn by two white horses adorned with the crest of the High Lord. The fisherman waved at it frantically to catch its attention.

Soon, the carriage stopped beside them. Inside was none other than the High Lord himself, who gave Tarquin a stern look once he climbed out.

Tarquin had a guilt-filled look in his eyes as his mother stepped out after his father, his mother rushed to him, worry clear on her face as she cupped his cheeks, looking for injuries, "Oh, dear! I was so worried about you, you weren't in your bed, I couldn't find you anywhere..." She rambled on. His father came to yell at him for sneaking away but she shushed him.

Tarquin let his mother fuss over him, allowing her to check him for injuries despite the fact that he didn't have any. He was more focused on the guilt gnawing at him than anything else. Feeling as if he shouldn't have gone outside, kept in his bed like his parents had told him. As his mother finished speaking, he cleared his throat awkwardly. "I-I'm fine, Mother," he lied, forcing a smile onto his face. "I must have fallen asleep down by the shore."

As they rode back towards the palace, Tarquin found himself thinking once more about those sirens and their song. How he longed to hear that song again. He remembered the voice of the one who had gotten him to the shore, the gentle voice of her, hoping he wouldn't remember everything he did.

{General Taglist- @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot}

{Siren song Taglist - @slut4acotar}

[nikonstudio]

And yes, the Swallow Grotto if you do go deeper into the national park...

[tsunael]

(Count)down to Dawntrail. 6/26

Weigh anchor now, the tide is high, And dawn of new adventure nigh. Row forth to break horizon's bond, And tread the gilded path beyond!

context:

She returns to where it all began-- to Vylbrand.

The stone within the Seasong Grotto reads as thus:

I am the waves that bear, I am the winds that guide, I am the evening stars, I am the morning sky. I am born of the sea, and there I shall die.

There, she makes a pilgrimage to Nymeia's effigy, leaving Her lily as tribute-- either as an act of reverence or defiance of the cards Sister Fate had dealt, as if to say, 'Here is my thanks to the monster who did not succeed in swallowing me alive.'

She takes her dagger in hand and cuts her hair. It's a new start. There, she renounces her old life.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

All good things must pass...

This is a treat fic for @samayla for the 2023 @whiteoliphaunt.

Pairing: Thorin x Bilbo

Words: 1 335

Warnings: None

Prompts: Snowed in, gift giving, sharing traditions

“Maybe, we could…” Thorin II, generally called “Oakenshield”, scratched his beard pensively as he looked out on the endless blanket of snow that made it patently impossible to discern the single path leading down from the hidden cave.

“Dear,” Bilbo sighed, his nose twitching in dismay. He opened his mouth to remind his friend and lover of the fact that, despite being an esteemed king and a fierce warrior, Thorin had a pesky tendency to lose his way even at the best of times.

Indeed, the brave Hobbit was far from eager to tumble off a rocky ledge or fall down a ravine that was treacherously obscured by the snow in a ludicrous but eminently tragic accident.

Nevertheless, Thorin seemed so tense and unhappy already that his heart misgave him, and he swallowed his confession of doubt and fear in favour of a more selfless argument.

“I do not doubt that you, your dwarven instincts, and your sturdy boots could find a way down, but I beg you to remember that I am at a distinct disadvantage,” he commented in a soft, pleading voice, motioning at his furry, bare toes.

Of course, this was at least partially disingenuous; Bilbo’s feet were inured to both icy sludge and searing heat, but he could not feel all too guilty for fibbing when he saw Thorin’s eyes light up with relief and tenderness.

“It was such a nice idea to come here,” the Hobbit went on, willing his jaw to relax and suppressing the full-body shivers threatening to ruin his nonchalant delivery of those much-needed, reassuring words of love and support. “I do not mind staying a little longer. Surely, there are more things you can show me in your favourite grotto?”

The smile pulling at the corners of his mouth now was as sunny and genuine as it would have been had they comfortably stood in front of the Great Hall’s roaring fires.

Growing up, Bilbo—as was the wont of his kind—had himself favoured certain flowers, fruits, and trees, and he had never doubted the legitimacy of those instinctive preferences.

Thus, it made perfect sense to him that Thorin—who had only recently returned to his ancestral home—would have treasured places he had not seen for many decades.

It filled Bilbo’s heart with tingling warmth to know that his beloved did not only yearn to spend his future with so unlikely a consort, but that he was also recovered enough from the ordeal of the quest and his almost fatal bout of Dragonsickness to grant Bilbo a glimpse into a long-lost past.

“Did you come here often?” he prompted, threading his stiff fingers into the warm fur of Thorin’s collar and tugging gently to distract the King from his morose musings.

“Not as often as I would have liked,” Thorin admitted. “I was the heir, and my duties lay elsewhere.”

“Shame, it’s so pretty.”

Despite the howling wind and the blistering cold, the small cavern, nestled into the flank of a forlorn part of the Lonely Mountain’s foothills, held a singular, enchanting charm. Even in the chiaroscuro caused by the thick veil of heavily falling snow that was blocking out the daylight, age-old crystals glimmered faintly from the vaulted roof, and Bilbo couldn’t help being reminded of the intricate chandelier he had once seen in the Thain’s house as a fauntling.

“What would you do when you came here then?” His teeth were clacking miserably by now, but he was unwilling to let the conversation die.

With a jolt, Thorin seemed to abruptly snap out of his self-recriminatory reverie and firmly slung his arms around the smaller frame of the one he had chosen to be his partner in all things.

“I am so sorry,” he mumbled under his breath. “I have failed you again! Come here, let me warm you up!”

Opening his heavy coat, he wrapped Bilbo into a cocoon of warmth before settling his bearded chin atop the mop of messy, honey-golden curls with another deep, tremulous sigh.

“I am still waiting for an answer. Did you do frivolous, unprincely things?” Bilbo teased, feeling perfectly at ease now that he was sheltered from the biting cold by the fragrant, comforting bubble Thorin had created for him.

He knew not what expectations the overly serious King entertained within that stubborn, laughably haughty mind of his, but Bilbo himself could not imagine a better place to be during a snowstorm than in Thorin’s arms.

Having lived a solitary life before embarking on his Great Adventure, he was not fazed by the idea of being cut off and isolated—he even sometimes preferred being left alone, and, after the bustling activity of Erebor’s reconstruction and repair, he was profoundly grateful to get a moment of intimacy to simply talk to his husband.

“I…I could show you,” Thorin finally replied haltingly. “Sit over there.”

Shrugging out of his coat, the dwarven king draped it around his cherished consort’s shoulders and padded cautiously to the mouth of the cave.

“It is silly,” he admitted when he returned to where Bilbo sat, huddled against the far wall, and set down a heap of powdery, pristine snow.

Again, the Hobbit pressed his lips together to keep himself from saying something imprudent that would upset or discourage Thorin.

The gleam of pure hope and fond reminiscence in those bright blue eyes was so rare and precious a sight that it didn’t even truly matter if the puerile pastime Thorin was about to share turned out to be truly anodyne or vapid indeed.

Wordless, Bilbo watched as Thorin busied himself around the cave, collecting pieces of fallen crystal and small, iridescent stones to build a miniature of the throne room such as it had been before Smaug had laid waste to his beloved kingdom.

“It’s so beautiful,” Bilbo breathed, as ever fascinated and humbled by the craftiness and skill of the many-layered miracle that was Thorin.

Once upon a time, he had met a disgruntled, distrustful king in exile, and it never failed to awe him when he unearthed pieces of the young dwarf Thorin had necessarily been before everything had been taken from him and his family.

“Funny that you’d escape your princely duties only to recreate the very room you’ve fled,” he added in a light voice.

“Wait…” Thorin cautioned him. “May I ask for one of your cherished handkerchiefs as a sacrifice?”

Without hesitation, Bilbo handed over the worn cloth square, too curious to discover what the other had in mind.

“It’s a poor gift,” Thorin whispered as he extricated a piece of flint from his pocket and set the fabric alight, “because it doesn’t last, but…”

“Hush,” Bilbo interrupted, mesmerised by the dancing shadows and the kaleidoscope of colours the small flame cast upon the domed walls of their little sanctuary. “This is absolutely stunning. I understand why you loved coming here!”

Blushing furiously, Thorin looked up at him from where he knelt on the floor.

“Thank you,” Bilbo croaked, tears of emotion and depthless adoration turning his voice raspier than usual. “We Hobbits love ephemeral beauty; after all, even the most gorgeous flowers die and the most glorious of summers must end.”

Sliding to the floor beside Thorin to hug him to his clenching chest, Bilbo allowed his starry eyes to overflow, trusting that even his tears would be well-guarded and safe in Thorin’s mighty hands.

“You’ve graciously gifted me a fleeting flash of colour and heat to counterbalance the deadly white of this storm,” he breathed into a reddened ear, framed elegantly by silver beads and dark hair, “and you’ve granted me a glimpse of your precious soul’s eternity.”

“The storm has finally abated,” Thorin mumbled sheepishly. “Should we dare the descent?”

“Not yet,” Bilbo replied softly, spreading out the coat he’d been cowering under on the floor. “Let’s stay a while yet and watch the lights dance as if we were alone in the world. We are safe, Thorin. Let’s savour that! Together!”

I hope you'll enjoy this <3

Lots of love from me!

[esteemed-excellency]

ohh I'm very curious, i *think* i know what a folly tower is, but I'm not certain! would you mind explaining please? (and maybe how this thies in witb hiram specifically?)

Of course! A folly in architecture is a building constructed for decorative purposes, there's not a precise definition in terms of scale or design, even if by modern standards the buildings are usually small, they can be gloriettes, fake ruins, artificial grottos, towers, etc. They became a trend in english and french landscape gardens during the 18th century and the term began as "a popular name for any costly structure considered to have shown folly in the builder" (quoting the Oxford English Dictionary's definition from wikipedia).

Overall they're very fun and interesting ornaments but towers in particular have their own value as landmarks, viewpoints, or historical constructions (like the irish "famine follies"). I personally like the liminal aesthetic they convey, given that they were often placed in the middle of nowhere, and the convoluted effect of some bigger constructions.

[Hadlow Tower (Kent) / Broadway Tower (Worcestershire) / Pontypool Folly Tower (Wales) / Scrabo Tower (Northern Ireland) / La Scarzuola (Italy) / The Swallow's Nest Castle (Crimea)]

In Fallen London, the Edict of Towers is an abandoned location between Hell and Parabola (reachable via Marigold Station), described as a maze of mirrors, walls, towers, turrets, and parapets. It was an ancient defence of Hell but it's empty now, and people risk getting lost between the Is and the Is-Not trying to navigate it. So, because i'm a huge sucker for cursed escherian labyrinths, i decided that it would be the perfect place for Hiram's parabolan base.

The halls of mirrors tie in with some descriptions of Is Someone There?, and the battlements fit the theme of A Game of Chess, which are Hiram's main dreams and nightmares. They're also perfectly on brand with the pseudo-medieval aesthetic of the Red Court.

Also, the vibe reminds me of a mix between surrealist/metaphysical paintings and the XII century italian tower craze:

[Almayer's Folly - René Magritte / The Red Tower - Giorgio De Chirico / reconstruction of Bologna during the 1200s / a depiction of San Giminiano during the 1200s/1300s by Taddeo di Bartolo]

[janetkwallace]

On the consequences of the Burmecian Genocide

You don't have to agree with what I'm about to say.

As a matter of fact, you can disagree as much as you want, I'm not saying that what I say is the right thing or that my view is better than yours. Everyone hold different views on the things they like and they don't, and today I'm writing about something I both like and dislike about one of my favorite games. The thing is, I don't like to do this sort of analysis where I comment on the negatives of my favorite stuff, even if I were to do it with a bit of humor.

Well, do not expect any humor.

I was kinda hesitant to write about it, but then I found myself writing it on a whim, so here we go... There is no turning back.

I've written about my thoughts on Final Fantasy IX before, its goods and its flaws. I've said what I had to say about the second visit to Alexandria during Disc 2, aka the point in the game where my enjoyment for the story has significantly decreased, it did not ran out as the game is still good after that point, but for me things were no longer the same as they did during the first hours of gameplay.

If you read the title, you know what I'll be commenting on today. So, genocide... It happens across most of the Final Fantasy games, it's shown to be very graphic when it happens, and IX was no different. Disc 1 ends with the party visiting Gizamaluke's Grotto, and later Burmecia, places filled with dead soldiers and NPCs lying down on the streets. The bleak atmosphere combined with haunting music adds a lot to these scenes. When the party fights against the Black Mages at Cleyra, each fight doesn't end with a victory pose... Because there's no victory when lots of innocents are annihilated by a powerful attack all at once. Later, when you revisit Lindblum, a giant monster is swallowing everything in its dark void, from knights to people to Black Mages themselves, it doesn't matter who gets sucked in or whose corpses fall in midair.

Pretty graphic, don't you think? The scenes do not include any blood or gore, it's just these little gruesome details that the player clearly sees with their eyes, this nightmarish stuff that happens and you can't do jack about it. One of my praises for Final Fantasy IX is for doing these sorts of things and not being afraid of doing it so. Sometimes it's whimsical fantasy, and other times a bleak, chaotic mess that belongs to dark fantasy, all of it happens in one game that most people – and I still can't believe it – think it's for children or that because it's geared towards children it has to dumb down a lot of themes they can’t grasp by themselves.

It doesn't. From the beginning, it’s clear that people do die, and it doesn't matter if your party members are well-trained or skilled, people in the world still die. I believe this is one of the core themes present in the games Sakaguchi worked with, that death is inevitable and out of the player's control. The original Final Fantasy VII had a lot of scenes revolved around said theme, such as when Barret meets his old friend Dyne or the main antagonist revealed to be a walking corpse who and whose mother – also a corpse – refuses to die in contrast with a party member whose sacrifices gives everyone else a chance to live.

I'm not here to talk about VII, maybe someday, but returning to the main point... The Burmecian genocide that occurs in Final Fantasy IX is shocking due everything I've said before, but the consequences of it are not fully explored. It's something that not only happens in this game, but a problem with the Final Fantasy series as a whole where the act of genocide is shown to be a horrifying event that leads to many casualties, and yet, very little is told or shown in the aftermath. Sure, there is an attempt to show the Burmecians leading their lives after the invasion, a few NPCs in Lindblum and some Cleyrans who managed to flee their settlement that are spread across the entire world, but it's not enough.

Genocide not only kills people, but their culture. How does the Burmecian culture look like after the genocide? Do people want to go home or do they want to build a new home elsewhere? The destruction of symbols can be demoralizing, so do any of the Burmecians feel sad or guilty or depressed after witnessing the collapse of their birthplace? Do other NPCs consider Burmecians as victims or do they see the mass murder as a justified act, given the few times conflicts between Burmecia and Alexandria were mentioned? What about the Cleyrans, what do they have to say about the giant crater that lies where Cleyra used to be? Are there any attempts from the citizens of Burmecia to restore their homeland to its full glory or is that something impossible to be achieved?

We see Lindblum in ruins and during its reconstruction, but nothing happens in Burmecia, it's abandoned the way it is since Disc 1. You could say that's a result of disc limitation at the time, and yes, while the limits of what can fit inside a 700mb disc plays a factor, it isn't the sole reason why a lot of things about Final Fantasy IX and other games from the series feel rushed or underdeveloped.

I'd say it's not only a lack of digital space, or budget constraints , but I do see it as a lack of care too, which's weird to think about since a lot of effort was put on the game, its story, characters, graphics, the backgrounds that we see for just a second and then never again, all of that done with such intricate and pure detail, and then you have stuff that isn't very well executed or explored. Disc 4 is there to show this dissonance of "let's put lots of details in these background elements" combined with "the story goes crazy and we will offer cryptic explanations as to why this happens and the characters in the party barely react to the information".

In the end, nothing that I wish for will be true. This game is called "Final Fantasy IX", not "Burmecian Fantasy IX", after all. They were never meant to be given any focus, but that doesn't mean they're irrelevant or any less important than anything else that takes place in the game.

[zoeisabelladaily]

Terravale Hall

Hey Diary,

Today was a whirlwind of mysteries and revelations. Let me spill the beans.

Mr. Servius escorted me to Terravale Hall with the golden key card, and the stone door greeted us with a loud creak, as if awakening from a deep slumber. Terravale Hall, a sanctuary embracing the essence of the earth, unfolded before me. The colossal stone fountain in Earthheart Plaza flowed with earth-infused water, and ancient trees whispered tales of magic. At the heart of the hall, an intricately engraved earth rune marked the gathering place for ceremonies. Rockhaven Grotto and Verdant Canopy Grove showcased magical creatures, while the Geomancer’s Archive, a magical library, invited quiet study. Dormitories carved into earthen walls provided cozy havens. Everything, in brown and green, radiated a connection with earth’s energy.

Everything there was the same as I saw earlier around my room, like the corner room, scratch on my door but the wall that swallow people wasn’t there. In my room my luggage waited for me. I arranged everything, feeling reassured that this couldn’t be mere imagination. It was as real as the air I breathed.

Morning brought a surprise — a box on my doorstep containing the school uniform and a wand, a gift from Mrs. Morgana Revancraft. The wooden wand symbolized my connection with Terravale, chosen by the “Foresight Fire.” However, this wand was different from the one the old lady gave me in Ebonhaven Village. A strange feeling urged me to keep quiet about the old lady and her wand, so I hid it. Trust needed to be earned before I could spill any secrets.

Lilith knocked on my door, and we headed to the great hall, though it seemed we were fashionably late. Albert Pendleton, a shy, bookish boy from Aetherion Spire, kindly found us seats. Headmistress Morgana Revancraft and the professors took their places, and she addressed the students. The main agenda for the day was the policy regarding relationships with “mundane am.” The rule was clear: no relationships with mundane am for the safety of everyone. Breaking this rule meant facing consequences, and it felt more like a warning than a piece of advice.

After the peculiar announcement from Headmistress Morgana Ravenscroft about the restrictions on relationships, I couldn’t help but notice Albert’s discontent. The policy seemed to weigh heavily on him, sparking my curiosity about his feelings towards these rules. Following the assembly, we headed to the food court for a delightful feast.

During our meal, Lilith inquired about my encounters with magical powers. She found it hard to believe that a witch or wizard could go through life without experiencing magic. I hesitated and confessed that I had never felt anything to indicate that I possessed magical abilities.

Now, alone in my room, reflections flood my mind. Recollections surface, like the time a dead plant revived at my touch or when I sensed influencing the positions of stars. Was I unconsciously using magic all along? And when I shared these oddities with Adam, why did he dismiss them as normal? Does he possess magical knowledge or, perhaps, love me despite being a witch? Questions swirl in my head, and answers remain elusive.

On another note, I planted the seeds Professor Xorki gave me by the riverside. The bag also contained a note with instructions to plant them discreetly. It adds another layer to the mysteries surrounding this school and my role in it.

Oh, and guess who I found under my bed? Misty! The same cat I encountered before. I called her by name, and she came to me as if she recognized my voice. Animals are incredible, aren’t they? They have a way of making us feel a connection that transcends words.

As I navigate through these magical twists, the uncertainties deepen. What other surprises await me in this mystical realm? Only time will tell.

Yours truly, Zoe