#The expanse books un

[earthpiner]

The expanse books un

THE EXPANSE BOOKS UN FULL

Most adapted material has an uncomfortable relationship with its source. You’ll at least get an idea of the characters and whether you like them. The status quo described doesn’t last very long, but it’s enough to get you going. I’d say that covers the first book, and first two seasons of the show in the most general fashion I dare provide. In the show he is played by Thomas Jane, just so you know we're discussing high-quality entertainment here. There is also a detective who wears a lame trilby hat but has even worse future hair underneath. The three factions hate each other and war could break out at any moment.įrom this general setting, events I won’t spoil put together a ragtag crew of folks, give them a ship, and make them the ongoing center of an evolving conspiracy that is alien in origin but made lethal thanks to layers of human greed, stupidity and politics.

THE EXPANSE BOOKS UN FULL

The Belters have all evolved into tall skinny people who can barely survive in full gravity and have to live on whatever scraps they can get. Mars hates Earths’ supposed superiority and is all about building a super-strong military. Rather than one big happy human family, these civilizations away from Earth have developed their own identities and cultures. I don’t believe they go much further that because it’s all awful dead space and would take too long anyway.īesides, there is trouble enough with just half a solar system. Beyond that, people live in/on “The Belt”, the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter, as well as some of Jupiter’s moons. Earth is still the center of human existence, but we also occupy Mars. THE EXPANSE is a political science fiction story set in a future in which humans have harnessed high-speed space travel, but in a small way relative to other science fiction properties. The story remains the same regardless of how you get it. But even without that drama, the show has a fairly enthusiastic fanbase, eager to tell you it’s one of the best science fiction shows you can watch. The Amazon season popped out in December, so it’s still relatively new. Part of that is because it made news when Amazon rescued the show from cancellation by buying it from Syfy at the end of its third season. More often, however, I hear about the EXPANSE television series. Naming device aside, they are very attractive books that look fetching all in a row at the bookstore and not on my Kindle. They all have titles like BABYLON’S ASHES and TIAMAT’S WRATH, which all sound cool but tell you nothing about the book itself. I have no idea what the current books are called either. It doesn’t have a name yet, but that doesn’t matter. There are currently eight with a ninth final novel supposedly coming out this year. Corey, who is actually two writers: Daniel Abraham and Ty Franck - have been around since 2011. Within my particular orbit, THE EXPANSE frequently shows up as both. There is so much noise out there when it comes to books you should read and shows you just have to watch. Everyone be cool, I’m doing this WITHOUT spoilers…

[hedgehog-moss]

Writers who use imitative harmony + the movement of their language to evoke meaning are so great to re-read once you’ve learnt this language, if you’ve read them in translation before, it feels like the best reward. I’m reading Annie Proulx in the original for the first time, and so much of her writing style was just not salvageable by French translators (< my condolences), because she intertwines sound with meaning so often, at least in Close Range, and French just doesn’t sound the same! so by translating the meaning you’ll sacrifice a lot of the style... It reminds me of a haunted house book in French that also made me think “haha RIP translators” because it made great use of sound—a lot of “u / eu / ou” to create a sort of sinister howling effect in some sentences, and one sentence about a closed door used “i” and “rr” sounds to give an ominous “creaking open” sensation without actually opening the door in the text...

This kind of thing always makes me reflect despairingly on how many authors I’ll never get to appreciate fully as I can’t read them in the original, but I’m glad to re-discover Annie Proulx at any rate! I mean compare the sound of a phrase like “a hundred dirt road shortcuts” to the French “des centaines de raccourcis, des routes de terre”... First of all the English phrase sounds clippety-cloppy, it sounds like hooves on a dirt road in a way that’s very hard to preserve in a language without syllable stress, but also the French language demands that you turn it into ‘a hundred of shortcurts of roads of dirt’, so it’s best to dilute it into two phrases, and you just lose the clippedness. It sounds less tight, more leisurely.

Same for the phrase “the tawny plain still grooved with pilgrim wagon ruts” vs. “la plaine fauve encore marquée des ornières laissées par les chariots des pèlerins.” That’s a 54% expansion ratio and once again you turn the tight clippedness of ‘grooved with pilgrim wagon ruts’ into ‘grooved with the ruts left by the wagons of the pilgrims.’ You just can’t avoid it, French words have to hold hands in a long procession rather than being stacked like pancakes on top of one another. And sometimes it makes for lovely stylistic effects too (*), but it doesn’t fit the style of a text like this one, which uses rhythm and sound in a very un-French way—rhythmicality in French tends to rely on long flowy phrasings rather than the potholed ruggedness this story demands. (I saw a NY Times article describe it as Annie Proulx “mining the ore of language out of a gritty Wyoming rockscape”)

The rhythm of this whole bit is so neat, you can snap your fingers along with it: “hard orange dawn, the world smoking, snaking dust devils on bare dirt, heat boiling out of the sun until the paint on the truck hood curled, ragged webs of dry rain that never hit the ground, through small-town traffic and stock on the road, band of horses in morning fog...”

The French version is not finger-snapping material but you can tell the translator did her very best to preserve the author’s intention by creating interesting rhythms in French as well. For “hard orange dawn” she could have kept close to the original with, say, “la dureté orange de l’aube” but instead she chose to turn ‘hard’ into a four-syllable adjective (éblouissante / blinding) to end up with a noticeable rhythm—“les aubes orange, éblouissantes,” one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four (and she made ‘dawn’ plural for the same reason.) She wasn’t able to preserve the g/r alliteration of “GRooved with pilGRim waGon Ruts” (although her translated phrase also has a lot of R’s) but she did preserve the ‘sss’ alliteration of “Smoking Snaking duSt” (“pouSSière Serpentant Sur le Sol”). Even with languages as close as French and English, for every stylistic effect you can save you have to sacrifice a few, or replace them with opposite effects which align better with your language’s notions of literary style (like with the orange dawn bit, doubling the length of a tight phrase so it can sound rhythmical).

You can tell all throughout the book that a lot of thought and care went into respecting Annie Proulx’s writing choices and you still end up with sentences that sound and move so differently. You get to see the limit of translation when authors fully lean on their language’s syntax and melody to help convey meaning, like poets do!

(*) Re: English stacking words and French linking them—this reminds me of an essay I read by an English translator of Proust who despaired of this difference in the opposite direction—saying some long, descriptive phrases in Proust with articles & prepositions linking words, and commas linking phrases with regularity, read like telling the beads of a rosary. And the sensation (or a lot of it) had to be sacrificed because English just does not use as many linking words as French, information is conveyed in a more economical way, so a lot of these sentences with a hypnotic rhythm like “the A, of the B, of the C, whereby the D, of the E, on an F” were often not achievable with English syntax or created redundancy (e.g. having to use ‘that’ or ‘which’ 5 times when French used different tool words). But he said he did try to form sentences that had this continuity, and meditative quality.

I don’t have a conclusion to this post other than to say something precious will be lost if human translation is replaced by AI translation, because literary translation involves creativity and ambiguity and aesthetic considerations and a dimension of instinctual feeling for your own language and the original style, and I don’t think any amount of data and processing power and artificial neural networks will yield the flavour of literary quality that emerges from human sensibility and care, from someone reading a sentence and thinking “this feels like hooves clippety-clopping down a dirt road” or “this feels like rolling the beads of a rosary” and starting from there...

[shotmrmiller]

It's cold, isn't it?

a secret santa gift fic event from @bunnyreaper for @perfinn! hope i didn't disappoint. un-beta'd sorry for any mistakes

18+ mdni smut :)

i tried to keep it under 1.5k i swear

It’s a week before Christmas, and you thank the stars that Johnny came home to you this year. Holidays are a rarity— given his dedication to his job. So whenever he is here, you treasure every single moment, like now, as you watch him tip his head back and eat the whipped cream that’s supposed to garnish your hot cocoa.

“Johnny.”

Startling at the sound of your voice, he spins to face you with a radiant smile.

“Good mornin’, hen!”

He opens his thick arms wide, beckoning you into a hug and you walk up and wrap yours around his trim waist— placing your chin on his chest as you look up at him. With half-lidded eyes and a lazy smile, you respond.

“Morning, love. Surely that wasn’t the whipped cream I said not to eat that I just saw you guzzle down?”

He grimaces.

“Och, never mind that. Listen, bonnie. Ye wanna go skatin’ on ice? The rink is open today.” 

You eagerly agree with a nod. How Johnny remembered your love for ice skating— even though you mentioned it in passing— makes your heart flutter. 

‘A’right then, go change.”

Johnny kisses your forehead before sending you off to get changed with a roguish smile and a playful swat to your bottom.

Cheeky Scot. 

“And stop eating my whipped cream!”, giggling to yourself when you hear the fridge door slam closed.

—

Once dressed, you walk to the living room and notice Johnny facing away from you, sipping tea— broad back flexing with the movement. How tight his shirt fits over the expanse of his traps and shoulders but flows loosely around the waist should be criminal. 

You hear him clear his throat and realize he had turned around while you ogled him. 

“See somethin’ ye like?” Johnny asked with a smirk.

Your facial expression shifts to mirror his.

“Always do, Johnny boy,” and it brings a hearty chuckle out of him.

“Right then, let’s get movin’. Dinnae wanna get there when it’s busy.” 

He shrugs on his jacket before approaching you and pulls on one of your beanie’s pom poms— looking at you with liquid blue eyes.

 His voice brimming with adoration, he utters, "Yer beautiful.” Johnny possesses the extraordinary talent of making you feel beautiful, no matter what you look like. Even in this instance— dressed in plain black leggings and a giant sweater.

Flustered, you say, “You’re just saying that because you want me to return the compliment.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he laughed.

“Naw, ah know I’m devastatin,” and the waggish smile he gives you is, in fact, devastating. 

A shaky laugh escapes your lips as you lightly shove his shoulder, "Alright, alright! I get it, you're prettier than me!” and then turn to leave when Johnny hooks his fingers into your belt loops and drags you back to him. His eyes gaze into yours, filled with intensity, before he leans in to shower your neck with gentle kisses. 

“I’m not leavin’ that thought to fester in that pretty little head o’ yers,” and it’s unnerving how well Johnny knows you— reads you like a book.

You whimper and grab onto his shirt as he sucks on the delicate skin.

“No one,” kiss “in existence” kiss “is prettier than ye, sweetheart. Not even me.” and your cheeks burn at his confession.

Then he chuckles softly, “Although, I’m a close second.” 

You let out a peal of laughter at that, before giving him a sweet, tender kiss. 

—

The cold wind stings your cheeks as you twist and turn on the ice but you could be out here for hours. It’s rather comical how ordinary dancing can make you seem like you’ve got two left feet but once you step onto the skating rink, your movements become as smooth as flowing water. 

Springing into the air with your right knee bent and straightening your legs, crossing at the ankles— with your arms up to your chest, one hand gripping the other wrist—  you rotate once, then twice, before landing on your opposite foot on the outside edge of the blade, and slow down as you skate backward.

You’re jolted back into reality with the sound of people clapping. Oh. Biting your lip, you briskly skate around the Christmas tree in the rink and head towards the spot Johnny’s standing in, seeking solace in his arms. As you approach the rink corner, he immediately swallows you in a wordless embrace. Read like a book.

“Ye looked in yer element, bonnie. Dinnae worry ‘bout them,” he said with a proud smile. 

The embarrassment from earlier combined had you warm and with Johnny's praise, you feel like you’re burning up. So you unzip your sweater open to cool off when he quickly grabs the front to pull you in closer.

You’re about to ask what he’s doing when you notice his sky-blue eyes focused on your chest, pupils expanding as he finally notices your breasts through your shirt— nipples pebbled from the freezing weather. 

He reaches to roll a hardened bud between his thumb and pointer as he murmurs, “And where are yer underclothes?” and you respond with a mischievous grin.

Johnny flicks his eyes to yours and resolutely nods to himself before lifting you above the wall of the rink—effortlessly placing you over his shoulder. You’re pretty sure about where this is going, and a rush of anticipation tightens your core.

With a swift motion, he swings open the cargo space door, sheds his jacket, and places you softly on top of it—resting on the folded flat seats of the SUV. After untying your skates and placing them aside, he crawls in and firmly shuts the door behind him.

You spread your legs invitingly, and he slides himself into the gap. Then leans in, his mouth meeting yours in an all-consuming kiss, and you moan into it as his tongue languidly entangles with yours— grinding your center into his clothed erection. 

Johnny lightly nips at your bottom lip before releasing it to ask, “Are ye wearin’ any knickers, hen?” and you shake your head, eliciting a groan from him.

He drags your shirt up, warming his cold hand on the soft of your tummy— your skin goose-pimpling at the feeling before he dips that hand under the waistband of your leggings.

His icy touch on your scorching cunt is a sensation you’ll never forget. The temperature play sends a jolt up your spine, lighting up your nerves and you gasp out a visible breath into the chilly air of the car. Johnny rubs tight little circles on your slippery clit before he grunts, and rips a hole in your leggings— tossing your legs over his shoulders.

You’re keening at his warm mouth on your cunt— a stark contrast to the coldness of his hands. Johnny drags his tongue between your folds and then lazily circles your clit with the tip of his tongue. He eats your pussy like a starved man as he licks and nips your cunt and the coil in your lower tummy threatens to snap— thighs shakily squeezing his head and he digs his fingers into the meat of your hips. He licks from your slit to your swollen nub before he oh so lightly sucks on it and you shatter. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashes into your body, sending sharp prickles down to your toes. Johnny moans as flattens his tongue against your pulsating clit, helping you ride out your orgasm— prolonging your pleasure.

Limbs completely lax and your body pliable, you lie there and watch him take his thick cock out—  give it two strokes before leaning over you with one hand and lining up against your slit with the other. 

Johnny sinks to the hilt and you stretch with a stinging burn against his assault. You are so bloody sensitive but he blessedly lets you get accommodated to the feel of him. He comes down to his elbows, encasing your head, and slowly rolls his hips— making you reach up to curl your hands around his arms, nails digging into the meat of his biceps. Your eyes close at the vivid feeling of him filling you to the brim, the tip of his cock pressing into your cervix when he nudges your cheek with his nose. 

“Keep those eyes on me, sweetheart,” he whispers as he skillfully maneuvers his hips to hit that sweet spot deep inside you, where ecstasy blooms and dreams begin.

With each unwavering thrust, he propels you closer to the edge, the intensity growing with each passing second. Your gummy walls are swollen from your previous orgasm, and you think you can feel the veins on this length with each drag of his heavy cock. The wet sounds from your pussy as he vigorously fucks you and the feel of his bollocks slapping against your arse is almost too much. Suddenly, Johnny grinds his hips, and the exquisite touch of his neatly groomed curls against your clit causes you to explode. You shatter with a scream and he gives you eight more slow but firm strokes before muffling a loud moan into your neck as your cunt milks him dry— your walls squeezing rhythmically around his twitching length that spurts his seed against the entrance of your womb. 

As you both come down for your high, the sound of your ragged breathing echoes throughout the car. The windows have become foggy, a sign of the stark contrast in temperature between the passionate moments shared inside and the frigidity of the outside world.

With one final kiss, he pulls out with a grunt. Your eyes are closing from the exhaustion of ice skating and having two earth-breaking orgasms wrung out of you when Johnny remarks, “You looked beautiful skating,” and that sounds like an unfinished thought. 

“But?” you croak out. 

He chuckles and answers, “But nothing beats how ye look full of my cum,” and drags his thumb up your slit, smearing your mixed juices over the lips of your cunt— making you whimper at your oversensitivity. 

Cheeky scot.

A/N: remind yourself to scold Johnny for making your leggings wearable only in the bedroom. 

[glittergear]

Un-horny BG2 mods

Ok, so I often hear that BG2 mods are very horny--not denying that, but here are some horny-free BG2 mods that I enjoy. I'm only including Quest and NPC mods here. I'm also only including mods that I have entirely played through myself.

The White Queen, by Lava: a quest mod that allows player to visit brand new place - Silent Swamps - where something happened some time ago. Curious? Let yourself discover what lies under the layers of the mud, meet the White Queen and her servants. Also, the music is bangin'

I Shall Never Forget, by Lava: This Baldur's Gate 2 mod allows you to work with Orion - a mage who has lost the sense of his life. Either help him regain what he lost or let him die without the faintest ray of hope.

Southern Edge, by Lava: Southern Edge is a new district for Athkatla available from the very start, once you talk to Gaelan and hear his offer. You can get a Book of Intelligence as a reward for one of the quests, and there's a scribe who will buy your unneeded quest documents (like The Tome of Amaunator, the Noontime Ritual, the Book of Kaza, etc. It's a nice lore-friendly way to get rid of some items)

Ooze's Lounge, by Lava: The mod introduces a brand new part of Athkatlan sewers. You may now use the originally inactive grate in Slums to enter a locked part of the sewers and discover its dark corners. The mod offers three new areas as well as a couple of mini-quests, new items and graphics.

Yoshimo Romance, by Lava: Mod includes 16 timered talks with Yoshimo (pre-Brynnlaw) plus those fired by circumstances - including talk in Brynnlaw and at entrance of Spellhold. Those who love reading may also install additional portion of text - dialogues for both male and female players fired by in-game events. There's no horniness here; the most you can do is kiss his cheek once, IIRC

Everything else, by Lava: seriously, all of his mods are great, and none of the ones on his site are horny

Trials of the Luremaster, by Argent77: This mod makes the Icewind Dale expansion "Trials of the Luremaster" available to BG2:EE (v2.0 or later), Siege of Dragonspear and EET (Enhanced Edition Trilogy).

✨Adrian✨, by Rhealla: Adrian has lived an interesting life, for lack of a better term, though he's hoping to finally put his past behind him. Aside from his magic, he has a background in espionage and a decadent -- some might say romantic -- streak that has gotten him into trouble in the past. He once pursued (and ultimately wrecked) a political career with one of the most notorious organizations in the Realms, and may very much enjoy the opportunities for intrigue the Shadow Thieves have to offer... if you can drag him away from fighting with the Harper and the Red Wizard long enough to notice, that is. Don't let his alignment scare you off. He's the least evil Evil character in the game, and his alignment can seamlessly shift to LN. He does fine in my good-aligned playthroughs. His romance isn't particularly horny--he offers once, but you can turn him down just fine (and there are multiple ways to tell him no). He's by far my favorite romance and favorite NPC in the game; I am not normal about him at all; and I could probably write an entire essay about his character arc. Please do try him out

Sir Ajantis by jastey: With this modification Ajantis can be acquired as a member of the PC's group after the fight in the Windspear Hills (which was not changed by the mod principally). The player must first solve a quest to free Ajantis from Firkraag's ransom. You have the option to continue his romance from BG1 or start a new romance with him--I've done the new romance route, and I didn't notice any horniness.

[vintagerpg]

Ruined Kingdoms (1994) is odd. It’s a pretty substantial expansion of the world of Al-Qadim — the cities (ruined and otherwise) and jungles of eastern Zakhara — and an adventure frame to encourage its exploration. There is a sort of cultural mixing here I don’t quite know how to parse. The overriding aesthetic is still Arabian, but with some strains of ancient Egyptian, South Asian and Southeast Asian as well. This feels very much like the flattening of Eastern cultures as described by Edward Said in Orientalism.

The adventure frame isn’t that great either, to be honest. Very events-y, but not in an interesting way. I do like some of the depictions of the ruined cities and welcome the fact that there are crocodile people to be encountered here, but Ruined Kingdoms is one of my least favorite in the line (which is saying something, since the wheels sort of come off Al-Qadim generally at this point). Some of the material here was recycled by Kurtz for the Necromancer’s Handbook, a book I find equally puzzling, but, compared to this box it is the superior treatment.

Karl Waller’s interiors are still pretty great — that geomancer with the pharaonic headdress is awesome. And I enjoy the atmosphere of Fred Fields’ rather un-Fieldsish cover.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hello! I feel un gran oso (shame, cringe, etc) for this, but I wanted to request a morpheus one shot hehe. I just NEED this situation to be written or something cause in my opinión its ✨✨

Based on the song Ballroom of Romance of Celtic Woman, where the reader is a human that somehow fell into morpheus grace, and as such she can enter the Dreaming every time she wants through a earring that morpheus crafted, and she wants to celebrate the Day of the Book or the day of the Librarian in honor to Lucienne, and for unknown reasons she gets permission to make a ballroom and well, a lot of dancing and a beautiful dress and Morpheus from his throne like: 🙂 (💓💓💓)

Mutual pining of course ✨

Thank you very much, have a nice day/noon/night!

Here's the song;

😊

Granny's Superstitions

Dream of the Endless x College Student!Reader

Summary: Your grandmother told you stories of how her grandmother was friends with the King of Dreams. You didn't think much of it, not even when you inherited your great-great grandmother's earrings on your 18th birthday. I mean, why would you? They did not correlate. And yet, your granny should have told you it did, so you weren't so surprised when you found yourself in the halls of the Dreaming.

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: Dark post capture!Dream, fem!reader, themes of misogyny, exasperated college student!reader, reader has a potty mouth, angst, enemies to lovers(?), typos, etc.

A/N: this was an exciting request! I love that you even added a song <3 I enjoyed it very much!! The syncopation in the chorus, its UGH SAUR GOOD. Because of this, I made reader a music major, like me HIHI. I will say, this became quite a dark and angsty fic and for that 😅 im sorry ig. ALSO I CHANGED SO MUCH ABOUT YOUR PROMPT I- ASODHASFOIAHFAHSF:HASF I do hope you still enjoy it my dear T_T [CRIES] IDK WHY I DID THIS TO YOUR REQUEST AND MYSELF IT WAS THE EARRINGS I HYPERFIXATED ON IT AND EVERYTHING JUST WENT BOOM T_T this is literally escapism PS the character Tim Henson in this fic is real, he's from a band called polyphia, which I love, and you don't have to imagine him as Tim, but I sure did LOL

I was effectively buzzed by the alcohol in my blood stream, and yet no amount of booze would make the unwanted stares from my classmates ever palatable.

Had I known making an effort in dressing up would merit the reaction I got for attending this party I didn't even want to attend in the first place, then they should all be glad that I wasn't in fashion department but in music.

Yet another rando turned to me and smiled, complimenting my outfit, to which I forced out a chuckling thank you.

I don't know why they're so upset that the guy they liked thought I was hot! It's not like it's my fault I got attention I didn't want.

I huffed as I pushed the restroom door open. I wash my hands as I stare at my face in the mirror. I behold the efforts I put on painting my face, on doing and redoing my liner, on perfecting the color on my lips.

I clench my jaw tightly at the feel of tears pricking from my eyes.

I thought they were my friends, finally I had friends, and yet all it took was one guy to ruin all that.

I close the faucet and lean on sink, releasing a sigh. I look at my reflection, watching the sapphire earrings dangle by my jaw.

I scoff at myself. I wore my heirlooms for them?

"Gosh, I miss home," I say, screwing my eyes shut as I straighten myself up. I begin to fidget with the small jewels on my lobes and head for the door. "Who cares if I leave early," I pull the door open, "no one's gonna-"

My ghost leaves me and I still when I see the dark expanse of the hall. There was no way this was the room I just exited, no way it was a dark, high-fricking-ceiling hall with marble floors, and massive stained glass windows that were broken. There was no way because there was not a single piece of furniture or intoxicated student in sight, only debris.

From my frozen stance, I push my hand behind me in an attempt to catch the knob I just let go. When I turn, my heart drops when I am faced with the fact I was in the middle of an empty hall with no door in sight.

Did they drug me?

I begin to pant as I do a 360 of the area.

I choke on my spit and go reeling back when I see a dark face in front of me. I am not nearly fast enough in my movements as the man's large strides allow him to quickly catches me in his tight grip.

"How have you come here, intruder?"

His voice is impossibly loud and deep that it seemed it was spoken by the very room itself. My hands dart up to cover my ears, but his grip on my biceps prevented that.

I open my mouth to speak, but the furrow of his brows and the tension of his jaw bring render me mute.

His darkened blue eyes widen a fraction. He scoffs, "I see. You are a thief."

My brows knit at the accusation.

He steps closer, fingers digging into my flesh, "what did you wish to achieve with those earrings?"

A shiver runs down my spine and I begin to stutter.

"What did you do to its owner?" his voice demands, going an octave lower. My eyes widen when his form begins to grow larger and the room begins to darken, "did you hurt her?"

My sight begins to blur with fearful tears when his pale skin disappears into nothingness, "I never met my her! She was dead before my mother was even born!"

"What?!" his voice echoes, seemingly endlessly.

"I NEVER MET GRANNY JOSEPHINE!" I scream, "I just inherited the earrings, I swear!"

When his form begins to revert, I decide it was do or die. I break away from his grip and manage free. However, when I pull away from him, I fall on my butt and freeze at the pain. I crawl away from him as far and as fast as I can, but as much as I didn't want to, I halt when pain shoots up from my palm. I pull my hand toward me and find blood on it.

"You are her progeny," he says.

When my eyes dart back to him, he is just a man in with black hair and a trench coat.

My pulse quickens when he walks over to me.

In an act of self preservation, I grab a concrete rock nearby and throw it to him as hard and best as I can. I goes right through his form and my eyes blow wider than they already are.

I push myself back, through the pain and blood on my palms, "STAY AWAY FROM ME! I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU WANT BUT-"

"I apologize," his voice mutters, silencing me in pure bewilderment.

I look up to the man and examine his face and his outstretched hand.

He cannot possibly believe I would take that.

I prefer the pain of pushing myself up and make sure not to break eye contact with him as I do. Once I am back to my feet, the man looks at me then the blood dripping from my fingers.

"What the fuck are you?" I shudder out, slowly backing away from him.

His eyes lift back to me and he raises his nose, "I am the King of Dreams."

My body trembles at his words. My hands shake as I chuckle in disbelief, "no way- no fucking way. My grandmother- those bedtime stories- you're-"

"Real?" he finishes for me, "as real as your blood staining my floors."

My eye twitches at his remark. I scoff, still on edge, and yet I cannot withhold the retort in the back of my throat, "you're annoyed by my blood dripping when your your filthy floor?"

The Dream king seems not to enjoy that comment and yet I could not help myself, "my blood is the least of your problems, don't you think?"

I grip my injured hand.

"Leaving unwanted traced of yourself is not good for my domain."

I raise my brows at that, "well if you didn't shapeshift and scare the living shit out of me, then maybe I wouldn't have had to crawl away from you."

"I thought you were an intruder."

"But aren't you all knowing, or some shit," I heave, "so much for a king."

"You dare insult me in my own abode right after I've scared you out of your wits?"

I dare a step forward, "well to be humbled, your majesty, for bringing me here just to intimidate me-"

"I did not bring you here," he cuts me off, diminishing the space between us.

And though my pulse was loud in my ears, I remained steadfast in my place.

His hot breath hits my face as he speaks, "you thought of the Dreaming and travelled here yourself."

I pull my face back as it contorts, "I did not think of this hellhole. I thought of home."

"Yes, and this place is a home for all who are weary."

I hum, "you mean before it crumbled to the ground."

My breath hitches at the sound of his growl, "you inherited not an ounce of congeniality from your great-great grandmother."

The way he knows how far off granny Josephine was to me really struck a chord in me. I press my lips together, "well, I'm glad to have disappointed you so soon so that you wouldn't expect anything from me."

He bellows, "mortality never loses its audacity," he brings his face down to me, making my skin rise with gooseflesh, "I would withdraw the earrings you clearly do not deserve, but out of respect to Josephine, I shall allow you to keep it," he seethes, "but for your insolence you will know how much of a king I really am."

BUZZ.

BUZZ.

BUZZ.

BUZZ.

BUZZ.

BUZZ.

BUZZ.

BUZZ.

I slam my hand on my alarm and rip my heavy lids open.

I groggily groan as I struggle out of bed.

Ten days it's been since the last time I slept properly. If falling asleep wasn't the problem, then it was trying to wakeup from the horrible nightmares that plagued me.

I slam my books on my desk, making my seatmate turn to me and watch as I sit down next to him.

"Well, good morning to you too, zombie girl," Tim greets with a shit eating grin.

"I am not in the mood, you ass," I grunt, crossing my arms as I lean back on my chair.

"You haven't been in the mood for two weeks," he says, "Don't you think you should do something about it?" he leans on the table and knits his brows in concern.

I wipe my face and give an annoyed chuckle, "what can I do when I'm literally beefing with the king of dreams," I carefully word, "and nightmares."

"Poetic," he rests his hands on the back of his tattooed hand, "a true sign of insanity."

"Go fucking annoy someone else, you rat."

"Nah, if I do, you'll be lonelier than you are."

I shoot him a dirty look as he then places something in front of me.

I look at the grey packet as he explains, "sleeping pills."

I turn back to him and push the medicine away, "don't work. I've tried."

He raises a brow, "without prescription?"

"There is such a thing a over the counter drugs, Tim."

"Spoken like a true druggie."

I scoff.

He continues, "this was why I told you not to attend that snobby party. You ever noticed that ever since then, you've gotten fucked up in the brain. It's no coincidence."

"Again, thank you captain obvious," I slam my hands on the table and turn to him, feeling my head pulse in exhaustion, "and so sorry that not everyone can be a cool and popular as you."

"Why'd you even wanna make friends with them when you-"

"SHUT UP!" I scream, making the entire class turn to me. I feel embarrassment rise up my neck, and was only lucky that our teacher wasn't here yet. I sink down into my arms and bury my face as I mutter, "Enough. Enough! I get it, Tim. 'I told you so.' Geez, just get off my ass."

He calls my name, making me groan, "I'll do something about my insomnia! Just please, shut the fuck up."

"You better," he scoffs, "or else I'll plant a pea shooter in your lawn."

And so later that day, I did what I perhaps I should have the very moment after I met the Dream King.

I called my grandmother.

"Hi, granny," I smiled, holding my phone up to my face as I waved at the harshly zoomed face of my grandmother on the screen.

"How are you there?" she excitedly answers, "I'm so glad you thought to call."

I nod and chuckle, "me too, granny."

She takes a moment before responding, "you look tired. Have you been sleeping and eating well."

"Yeah, about that..."

After explaining everything to her, her voice grills the audio of my device because of how loud it is, "HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO DREAM OF THE ENDLESS?!"

"Granny, that-"

"YOU MUST APOLOGIZE TO HIM AT ONCE-"

"I think we're past apologies. I have to do something more to make it up to him if I'm to ever sleep well again."

"Darn straight," she mutters in agreement, "now, oh goodness, let's see..." she sighs and wipes her face, "PIE!"

I raise a brow, "pie?!"

"My grandmother absolutely loved baking and everyone who ate her apple crumble pie adored-"

"Hello," a voice calls, making me turn to whom spoke. I see a woman with glasses walking over to me and I give an awkward smile as I raise the tray in my hand, "hi... is Dream here?" Once she is before me, she takes in my appearance then raises a finger, "ah, you're the one who inherited the Sapphire Dream Walk." "... do you mean my earrings?" "Yes. I-" "What are you doing here, girl?" I look over my shoulder and see the annoyed expression on the Dream of the Endless, as my grandmother put. "A peace offering," I release a sigh and hand him the tray, "my grandmother said that granny Josephine made you pie and you so enjoyed." The two of them only stare at me. "It's most definitely not as good-" "Lucienne, I don't have time for this," he says, turning to the woman who greeted me. Dream turns about and debris from the room begins to float up. Lucienne places a hand on my arm then gratefully accepts the tray from me, "I thank you on behalf of my master for your most generous gift."

"Yeah, that's not gonna work," I sigh, running my hands through my hair, "I did not inherit any homemaker skills."

My grandmother says my name gravely.

"What? It's true!" I shake my head, "if I did, then I would have been better off marrying a rich man," I dryly joke.

My grandmother ignores this as she suddenly says, "if your baking skills are that bad, perhaps just make an effort to eat with him every lunch."

I make a twisted face, "you want me to waste my precious free time on that emo prick-"

"Hi," I raise a hand, making Dream and Lucienne, who seemed to be getting into a heated argument, halt and turn to me. Dream scoffs, "you again." I awkwardly chuckle and rub my arm. "What? No bribe this time?" he narrows his eyes at me as he walks over. I purse my lips and twist to reveal my backpack, "I bought lunch for all of us..." There is a sound of thunder from the outside. I look away from the stalking man, finding there was even less debris now compared to yesterday, "it seems your efforts to liven up the place are-" "Silence."

"Oh, so you have a better idea?!" my grandmother quips.

"Granny, I can already imagine-"

"You said," I grip my earlobes tightly in my fingers, "you wouldn't take my earring back for the sake of Josephine." "But that was before," he presses close to me that our bodies were nearly touching, "you were turned out to be a meddlesome insect." "How is being friendly to someone who clearly needs friends meddlesome?" "Friends?" his deep voice darkly chuckles, "it is you who needs friends," his voice echoes, "you think I did not sift through your memories to verify your words? I know well the day you came here you were at a party on the pretense of making companionship," he leans in that his nose nearly touches mine, "but they turned you away, did they not?" My eyes glass at his words and my breathing grows jagged at the words he next spoke. "If your fellow mortals do not want you, what makes you think that I would?" "My lord!" Lucienne calls. I do not grant him the satisfaction of another moment of my time and will myself back to my room.

"-how bad it'll be-"

I hold up a cupcake in a plastic container to the man who was reading on his throne. "Your insolence knows no bounds, girl." "Actually, it's chocolate chip cheesecake." He eyes me darkly, slamming his book closed, "you think you can win me over with food?" "I can tr-" "It is by my own power than I am sustained," he stands and swats my cupcake away, "and by my mercy that you have not slipped into madness." I gulp as he adds, "not yet."

"-if I force myself-"

I try to contain my giggles as Lucienne and I sit on a picnic blanket I bought for today. "It's so weird to know that without him, Bach would've never finished his most famous piece, which is so gentle and sweet and-" I finish with a whisper, "unlike your boss." She sighs as her lips press into a soft smile, "you know... he's not actually that bad. He's just... going through something." I roll my eyes, "what puberty?" Lucienne shakes her head "he has been hurting for a long time." "Just because you've hurt doesn't justify the hurt you inflict on others," I mutter, "you don't have to keep defending your petty king." Dream, who had just finally fixed and tidied the last of the rubble, speaks up "you are aware there is no such thing as hushed whispers in my realm?" He turns to us and walks over with a storm cloud over his head, "every crude remark you've uttered as you stuff your face with your cheap, store bought snacks has echoed in my ears." I look up at him, opening my mouth, but Lucienne's hand grabbing mine silences me. "If you wish to insult me as retribution, then perhaps I should darken your mind more than I already have." "Dream! She has not-" "I've had enough of you as well, Lucienne," he quips, "you tell her things that is not yours to tell." "But you have withheld rest from her, my lord!" she says as she stands, "and for what? Because she told you the realm was in shambles, when it clearly was?!" "I shall heed none of your flippant words and continue to do so as I see fit."

"-to hang around him when he clearly doesn't like me!" I exclaim, already frustrated by the idea.

"Then, do something you like... together."

I release a sigh.

"Perform for him, you are a musician after all, and he is every musician's muse."

Lucienne claps as I release a sigh and allow my guitar to rest on my shoulder on its strap. "A splendid performance indeed," she smiles at me. I awkwardly thank her and turn to Dream beside her. "Pitiful that talents are wasted on a girl as unsavory as she." I shake my head and release a scoff, "aren't you tired of being an asshole?" His lips curl in disgust, "perhaps nightmares aren't enough. Maybe taking your voice-" "You think just because you're powerful and fucking old, all your actions are justified?" I remove the guitar strap and begin to put it back in its case, "I just want to sleep! And I've been making an effort to pacify you, but you're acting like a child." "I'm acting like a-" "THEN I'M ACTING LIKE A CHILD, DAMMIT," I heave, "and you are the perfect Dream of the Endless!" I get on my knees and bow to him mockingly, "none could defy his will."

"Granny, that's-"

"Oh! I've got it. I've got it! I remember. The king is absolutely fond of ballroom dances. Perhaps you can convince him to allow you to plan a dance for him."

"Granny, where would I even plan such a thing?"

"The dreaming of course," I press my lips into a smile, watching Dream's dark face eye me impatiently. "I've had quite enough of your games, girl," he snips, "first you bribe me with food, now you're trying to fool me into dancing with you." "What-" I whine, "is it going to take-" I huff, "for your petty ass to forgive me." He scoffs, "well perhaps you could start by dropping the unnece-" "But I have! I did! I tried being nice, but you do nothing but attack me." He scoffs, "and if that were true then you would not be sufferings still." "I JUST WANT TO SLEEP!" I scream, lunging at him as I grab his stupid collar, "you have NO idea what it feels like to be so tired but restless." "I think I would know-" "BUT YOU DON'T! Because you don't need sleep, or food, or anything! You are just an all powerful monster, devoid of emotions and any sense of compassion." He shoves my hands off him and I pull back as I heave. Dream tilts his head at my tear stained face with disdain. "Lucienne told me you were captured-" "It was not her place to tell you anything." "You would know what it feels like to be trapped!" I release a shudder, "or perhaps you are so caught up in your own self-pity that you will never believe anyone else can suffer, at your cruel hands, no less."

I slam my head on the cafeteria table repeatedly until I feel my forehead sting. I feel tears prick my eyes in frustration.

I just want to sleep.

"I just wanna sleep, you royal douche bag-" I whimper, "can you fucking hEAR ME-"

"Hey!" someone catches my forehead, mid head bang, and I crane my neck up to see the worries and breathless face of my classmate, "where have you been? I haven't seen you at lunch in forever."

I groan and straighten up, just to slump down on my chair and rub my eyes in frustration. "I'm so fucking tired, Tim."

"Yeah, no shit," he says, right as the sound of a chair being dragged back fills my ears, "you look like shit."

I let out a whimper, unable to withhold the tears from my eyes, "you think I don't fucking know that?"

I break down against my palms, incapable of keeping my emotions in anymore. Tim stiffens at the sight and lets out a string of curses before placing a hand on my shoulder, "I didn't mean to-"

"Look, if you're here to annoy me too, just leave, Tim."

"What?"

I rip my hands away and look at him with my wet eyes, "I don't know why you're here, but just leave!"

He scoffs, "you don't know why I'm here?" He crosses his arms, "well maybe because I'm worried about you?! Because we're friends?!"

"..."

His brows furrow, "how's that, asshole?"

"... we're... friends?"

Tim's face twists, "are you fucking stupid for real?"

I don't get to reply as my name is suddenly called. I turn to my side and feel my blood still at the face before me.

"You called me," Dream says, turning from me to Tim, "are you in trouble?"

I still and turn between the two, as an incredulous chuckle leaves my throat, "now hold on," I scoff, "hold on just a damn second."

Dream turns back to me and I peer up at him, "are you trying to tell me that you came here because you thought I called you and that I was in some sort of trouble."

"You did call me," he mutters, completely ignoring the rest of what I just said, "I am not one to lie."

Tim turns to me as I laugh. His face is warry as when I stand from my seat. The serious expression Dream's face disturbs me and I chuckle yet again.

"I'm so sorry," I place a hand on my chest, "where are my manners? I should introduce you two first: Tim, Dream, Dream, Tim," I turn to the latter, "you wanna know where I go at lunch? This is the Dream Lord I've been duking it out with every time."

Tim rises from his seat, grabbing my arm.

It seems, Dream does not take kindly to this and shows it by stepping close to the man. As Tim turns to the glaring Dream, I scoff and push the Endless to face me, "you're insane. Aren't you?"

Tim speaks my name softly.

"No," I turn to Tim, "he's the reason why I can't sleep because I questioned his kingliness or some shit-" I snap back to Dream, "in fact I'm so fucking tired I don't remember why you've been giving me nightmares in the first place."

"Okay, calm down," Tim tugs me towards him as he repeats my name, "we should just go to my place now and have lunch there."

"And who are you to take her anywhere?" Dream demands, making Tim's face contort in anger.

"I'm her actual friend, dipshit."

"Except she doesn't have any friends."

Tim snorts in annoyance, "as I'm sure you've been gaslighting her to believe."

With that, we walk away from Dream, even though I was so ready to lunge at him. Tim gave me an absolute earful about something, not that I actually listened. But still, even as his words entered one ear and out the other, I still cringed at the severity of his harsh but concerned tone.

Out of spite of myself, I told him I would skip the rest of my classes and sleep the entire day. After arguing about it, Tim eventually walked me back to my home and I punished myself by actually trying to go to sleep.

You have no idea how shocked I was when it worked.

I didn't realize I was sleeping because I was suddenly in a glimmering black dress.

Lucienne came running over to me with a wide smile, "You did it! You did it, dear, you did it!"

"What?"

"You've put sense into that old fool's head," she grabs my face, "and convinced him to throw a ball in honor of the reconstruction of the Dreaming."

"Wait," I shake my head, "so I'm-" I grip my earlobes and find only the smoothness of my skin, "dreaming?"

Lucienne beams at me as tears glass my eyes.

"Now, is not the time for sadness," she sighs, grabbing my hands, "today we celebrate!"

Seeing all sorts of beings dancing and making merry in the grand halls with such festive and upbeat music made it hard to resist. Of course I was reluctant and in denial. It was all happening so quickly, But when I was drawn into the middle of the room by Lucienne, who linked her arm in mine, and started spinning around, I couldn't help but laugh and dance with her.

My spirit is livened by the sound of the fiddles and the sweet voice singing to the music.

By the time the chorus comes along, I am relaxed and try to hum along with the music as Lucienne and I giggle at how poorly we were dancing.

I am promptly halted when the arm linked in mine pulls away and I slam into a firm dark chest.

I grip on a pair of biceps and tilt my head up. Dream he looks down at me with an expression I have never seen before.

I pull away quickly, but he catches my wrist, "it was your idea to have a dance," he leads me back near to him, "might you share one with me?"

I'm surprised he actually waits for my response. And so I reluctantly nod my head.

The moment I do, he does the weirdest thing. His lips curve upwards and he spins me to the beat of the music.

All the stiffness and unwillingness begins to melt away as Dream leads me to the music. Though his gaze on me is heavy and scrutinizing, I cannot bring myself to look away.

"It really took a man showing his concern for me for you to finally change your mind," I mutter.

"No," he readily denies, "it was you who made me change my mind."

I roll my eyes, "but it took Tim to set the wheels in motion."

He shakes his head, "you truly could not be farther from your great-great grandmother."

I huff, unable to understand him, "she must have meant a lot to you."

"She did," he pauses for a moment, "she was the gentleness to my indifference."

"So, what? Is this the part where you tell me you're my great-great-granddaddy?"

He spins me around and presses his chest against my back, "if Josephine were here, she would be horrified to know how filthy her daughter's lips are."

"I'm not her daughter..." I mumble, feeling my pulse rise at our proximity, "I'm her great-great-"

Dream spinning me cuts me off. When he retrieves me by my waist, he softly tells, "you were right. I have been cruel and devoid of emotion."

Our dancing comes into a stop as he willingly admits this.

"My own hurt and the unjust expectations I had of you to act like someone you are clearly not is what lead me to be so," he mutters with a solemn expression, "it does not make it right, and it is not an excuse, but I wanted to tell you this."

My brows furrow tightly at his words. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"I apologize for my wrongdoings. I do not enjoy what I have become, and I know I am disgracing the memory of my friend for being so brutal to her child."

I feel a shiver run down my spine. In pure disbelief, I grab his face, "are you seriously Dream of the Endless?"

His teary eyes crinkle in amusement and it causes me further bewilderment, "I am."

When he places hands on my wrists so gently, I feel goosebumps form on my arms.

"You are so familiar yet so foreign to me all at once."

I pull away from him, not knowing what to say.

Just then, the music ends and everyone but us breaks into applause.

When another song plays, I press my lips and extend my hand out to him, "how about another dance?"

Tim was lying on the other side of a cafeteria table, while I was sat opposite to him as I typed away on my laptop. He was playing on his electric guitar connected to his tiny, rechargeable amp, which was propped on the table. His nonchalance while expertly riffing made passersby stop, watch, and swoon. Typical Tim. He sits up just as I turn back when I hear my name get called. A small smile finds my lips as I greet my caller, "Dream. What are you doing here?" "It's lunch time and you have not come to the Dreaming yet." Dream catches the fact that I was not wearing my earrings, just as I chuckle, "and why would I go to the Dreaming?" Tim had already straightened up and stopped playing at this point. I shake my head and shrug, "I'm not going to pretend like I didn't go to you to convince you to stop my nightmares. And now you've gotten rid of them, I won't bother you." I examine Dream's expression, but there was nothing to examine, he was as still as a statue. "You don't have to worry about me. You can do your work in peace now," I nod and turn back to my laptop. Tim's eyes widen at what he hears and he decides to just lie back down and play again. I stop myself in the middle of typing to steal a look behind me in case Dream was still there. When I found no one, I pushed the thought of him away and finished my homework.

[whistleclangen]

Moon 0, Part Three - The Aftermath: Addendum

Juniperpaw wishes Mousepetal had believed them sooner. Well, they’re not sure if he’d ever really believed them really, but the senior healer had finally let them go speak to Whistleclan, after days of awful dreams that they’re sure are trying to warn of something dangerous coming for the other clan. The visions and the wailing and screaming of cats intermingled with the sound of wind whistling through the seaside rocks had made it pretty clear to him that Whistleclan had some kind of peril in their future. He hopes he’s not too late.

Juniperpaw carefully makes his way down the cliffs where Blufflcan territory ends and Whistleclan territory begins. He gazes out toward the horizon, at the endless blue expanse of the ocean with the midmorning sun glinting off its oddly placid surface, and for some reason, the sight makes him shudder. They hope they don’t have to spend too much time away from home. Just a quick trip to the Whistleclan camp to speak to their healer and maybe their leader. What’s the Whistleclan leader’s name again, Bramblestar? Brushstar? Something like that. And the healer is named Shadowstreak, Mousepetal had introduced him to them at their first Half-Moon meeting. Juniperpaw wonders why Starclan sent this warning to him instead of to them. 

Mousepetal had instructed him on where to find the Whistleclan camp, but had refused to escort him himself. Apparently, the kits or the elders needed him to treat their scrapes or tick bites or something, and he was completely booked for the day. Ugh. Juniperpaw hopes he remembers his mentor’s instructions. The path to the camp ends up being pretty easy to find, once you know what you're looking for. But as they approach, it is immediately obvious to Juniperpaw that something is very, very wrong. 

For one, there’s an eerie silence in the air, unbroken even by the screeching of seagulls, and the scent of blood hangs heavy, getting stronger with every step toward where the Whistleclan camp should be. Oh, stars above, am I too late? Every instinct in them is screaming at them to turn around and race home, but they have to see, they have to know what happened. 

Juniperpaw breaks into a run, no longer caring if he’s spotted by Whistleclan warriors before he reaches the camp. The sand shifts uncomfortably below his paws, but he doesn’t slow until he reaches the hidden tunnel to the camp. The sand around the entrance is disturbed by pawsteps, which they hope is a good sign. They strengthen their resolve and pad into the tunnel. 

It is dark only for a few moments before the mid morning sun reaches him again on the other side of the tunnel. Laid out before him is a scene of carnage. Blood is splattered across the sand and rocks that make up the Whistleclan camp. Everywhere they step, the sand is churned up from movement and what looks like fighting, and he can’t help but step in some of the drying blood that’s already soaking into the sand. There are also streaks of blood and claw marks in the sand that seem to imply that someone was dragged away, toward the ocean. However, despite the alarming amount of gore, there is a disturbing lack of corpses anywhere that Juniperpaw can see.

What in Starclan’s name happened here?

The healer apprentice is overwhelmed. They’ve never smelled this much blood before in their life, and the cloying coppery scent is invading their senses now, but they can’t seem to stop themself from padding further into the Whistleclan camp. Juniperpaw doesn’t even know what they’re looking for. Survivors maybe? There’s no dead bodies that he can see, let alone living ones. But still his paws carry him forward, around the large tidepool at the center of camp and down the beach, following the lines of blood and marks scored into the sand by claws that couldn’t dig deep enough to catch hold, until he’s standing right at the edge of the tide. Here, the trail of blood ends, as if a cat was dragged toward the waves and pulled under the surf. 

But what kind of creature would be able to do that? What kind of creature would even want to do that? It looked like the camp had been attacked and ransacked, maybe by dogs or rogues, but neither of those would bring the bodies of their kills into the ocean… would they? No, that’s just stupid, it has to be something else. Juniperpaw doesn't know all that much about sea creatures, maybe Whistleclan was massacred by something perfectly natural. 

Abruptly, Juniperpaw decides they’ve seen enough. He needs to report back to Mousepetal and Quillstar, he needs to get away from here as fast as his legs will carry him, because the more he dwells on it, the more he thinks that something entirely unnatural happened here. This doesn’t feel like an attack by some regular creature. For some reason, Juniperpaw has a creeping feeling that whatever did this isn’t… normal.

The healer apprentice is about to turn and leave when something catches his eye under the waves. He pauses, and stares at that spot, trying to get a better look at whatever it was, but he can’t seem to find it again. In the back of their mind, they know they need to leave, they need to leave now, but they can’t help but feel like Whistleclan’s death was their fault, and if they'd just warned them a day earlier, some of them might have lived. If he can figure out what happened to them, maybe it will absolve him of the blame he carries.

Juniperpaw sees another flash below the surface of the water. He waits, barely daring to breathe, and swearing to himself that he’ll run as soon as he gets a good look at the- whatever it is. Then all of a sudden, something erupts from the depths of the water, something long and winding, like the tentacle of an octopus, but much, much larger and nearly void black. Blood still clings to the thing where the seawater hasn’t managed to wash it off yet.

Juniperpaw stares at the thing. He knows that this is his chance to run, but for some reason he can’t bring himself to look away as the tentacle undulates before him. He feels almost hypnotized by the thing, and as he watches, a few more of them rise from the waves to join the first, waving around in the air. 

Then suddenly, quick as a flash, one of them reaches up to whip around Juniperpaw’s ankle, and he loses his balance as it knocks him off his paws. Then it drags him toward the hungry ocean, and Juniperpaw never sees another sunrise.

[from-a-legends-pov]

Star Wars Legends Highlight of the Week: Honor Among Thieves by James S. A. Corey

This is a new feature where a fan will share one thing they love from Star Wars Legends – a book, a comic, an author, a character, an event, or anything else they want to highlight – and tell us more about it.

If you, too, love Legends, follow @from-a-legends-pov and check out our upcoming Star Wars Legends fanfiction event, From a Legends Point of View, HERE. Signups open April 28 - please encourage your favorite Star Wars writers to participate!

Today’s highlight is Honor Among Thieves by James S. A. Corey (actually the pen name of writing team Daniel Abraham and Ty Franck, whom you may recognize as the writers of The Expanse), a 2014 Legends novel, and we’re talking with Dessi (@otterandterrier).

Tell us about your Legends highlight. What is it? What’s it about?

Honor Among Thieves is the second novel in the Empire and Rebellion duology (the first one being Razor’s Edge, a previous Legends highlight), and one of the last books published in the Legends universe by Del Rey. This book is Han’s story, and is told entirely from his POV.

The story is set about a year after Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, and our heroes start off scattering through the galaxy in their respective missions. Han and Chewie are sent to the Core to retrieve Scarlet Hark, a high-level spy who is after a thief in possession of secret, deadly information stolen from under the Empire’s (and her) nose – and that the Empire is willing to do anything to get back. Han doesn’t want to get involved, as this is way above his paycheck. But then he realizes that Leia is at a gathering on Kiamurr, the very same planet their thief is headed to, which means the Empire will be hot on his heels. That makes up his mind about helping Scarlet get there first!

The plot is quite the wild goose chase, and you have to suspend your sense of disbelief many times and forget specialized bits of lore in order to buy it. Even so, it’s really fun and gripping, and I appreciate the way that the main conflict is used to give us excellent insight into our favourite smuggler’s mind.

What makes this a Legends highlight for you? What do you love about it?

This is one of my favourite Legends books, because I love Han Solo. I love the intensely caring, occasionally dorky, bad at flirting, barely concealing a soft interior Han Solo that somehow we were fortunate enough to get in the Original Trilogy and, somehow, so many people missed. And that’s the Han Solo we get here! I love getting to see the narrative peeling off his self-admitted layers, contemplating his involvement with the rebellion, his new relationships, and the man he could have been had circumstances not put him on the path of an old Jedi and an idealistic farmboy, by setting up a contrast with an old acquaintance that shows up. We also get to see how competent and clever he really is, something that is often neglected.

Favorite moment or scene?

There’s this scene where the group is walking through a jungle, and a character is about to shoot at a large mud creature that scared her—but Han stops her. He explains that the creature is harmless, then he pats its snout and tells it to look out for humans. Leia calls him an animal lover, to which Han replies: “If everyone got to kill anything that looked big and scary, Chewie would never be able to leave the ship.” I love this little moment because it shows that soft, caring, yet practical side of Han that not many people get to see, and it’s also a nice moment of connection between Han and Leia. Han’s concern over creatures that are “just trying to make it through another day” also gets called back towards the end, rounding off Han’s overall spot-on characterization—although that’s all I can say without spoiling the book.

Anything else you’d like to share about it?

A few other reasons I love this book:

It develops Han and Leia’s early relationship: as a shipper, the UST and the moments of deeper understanding between them here make me squeal. We see Leia through Han’s eyes and beyond his façade, and how he goes from “I can’t stand her” to “I will kill anyone who tries to hurt her.”

Scarlet Hark FTW: This OC is a bit of a perfect male fantasy, but I like her a lot. Intelligent, badass, take-no-shit female character? Yes please! I particularly love that she and Leia get along so well and it’s never a competition between them. She’s a really interesting character to explore, and I’d love to see the OT gang teaming up with her again.

Han and Luke’s relationship isn’t forgotten: I really appreciate that the authors gave this friendship the importance it deserves, with Han thinking several times that he’s sticking with the Rebellion mainly to look after Luke (which is a better motivation than him staying because he wants to sleep with Leia).

To learn more…

If you’d like to read more about Honor Among Thieves, you can check out its page on Wookieepedia or find the novel at your favorite library or used bookstore (like Razor’s Edge, it seems to be out of print for new copies, sadly).

And be sure to check out @from-a-legends-pov and our From a Legends Point of View fanfiction event; as another reminder, signups open April 28, 2024!

[distant-velleity]

(un)sweet dreams

Summary: Once Malleus Overblots, Yu doesn't exactly dream. Silver does. Word count: 3.5k+ Warnings: my unbeta'd writing A/N: So!!! Yesterday I played through Book 7 Part 3 since that dropped on TWST EN, and it inspired me~ In regards to Yu's story, I haven't actually considered Book 7 a whole lot, so I felt like writing this would be fun and solidify his plotline some more at least before his own Overblot. Haha. Um. This is meant to replace the MC-centric chapters of 7-40 through 7-51; where it ends is roughly where in-game 7-52 starts. Please enjoy my Silver and Yu acquaintance content bc I sure don't write enough of it (<- it has an entire relationship section on Yu's wiki) <3 Also, contains reference to this oneshot.

~

In the distance, thunder—the herald of dignity and danger—rumbled. Of an unimaginably deep weight, it rolled through the clouds and over the seas.

…

In the drearily elegant throne room, static zipped through the air, the buildup to a temper at the end of its wick.

“It’s incredible! 16 years, and not a trace of her! Are you sure you searched everywhere?”

“Uhhh, we searched mountains, forests, houses… and all the cradles.”

“FOOLS! Search for a maid of 16. Go… and do not fail me.”

…

In the depths of the forest, pretty voices rose, unaware of the unwanted guest listening in.

“You’re already betrothed! To Prince Philip, dear!”

“But that’s impossible. How could I marry a prince? I’d have to be…”

“...A princess.”

“And you are, dear!”

…

In the winding tower, a spindle glistened in the light.

“Touch the spindle. Touch it, I say.”

As delicate as a petal, a hand was drawn to the spindle.

“You poor, simple fools, thinking you could defeat me! ME! The mistress of all evil!”

…

To call it ‘waking up’ would be a lovely description, but an ultimately unearned one. To Yu, it feels more like dragging his consciousness out of a haze after fainting; his thoughts are blurred around the edges and his memories blurrier still.

He blinks once, twice, and slowly raises himself to sit up. Beneath his hands, placed to support the dead weight of his body, the ground ripples outwards in the image of water.

Yu stares at it.

He feels no dampness through his clothes, no chill, so the reasonable assumption is that the ground isn’t any sort of liquid; and yet it behaves like one. There’s certainly a surface beneath him, but how real is it? As far as he can see, the world is purely black, with no horizon line in sight. 

Strange.

…Strange, but not unfamiliar. After all, Yu has been here a number of times before. 

(More vividly than any other memory, he recalls Riddle crushed by a flurry of books; Leona discarded from an unending chessboard. Azul left beached without the safety of his pot; Jamil weighed into submission with chains. Vil smothered with distorted veils; Idia dragged deeper and deeper into the darkness. 

All these incidents which should have caused splashes, yet—each time—caused the ground to do little more than ripple.)

Only, this time, there’s no one but Yu here. He’s all alone in the expansive darkness for some unknown reason. 

Why?

As he racks his brain for the answer, a screen pops up before him. And then another, and then another after that…

[ CURRENT DEBUFF — Fae Maleficence: USER’s physical body is deeply asleep and frozen in time. ]

[ MAIN MISSION — “Perpetuation by Briar Thorns” Continued. ]

[ NEW OBJECTIVE: Figure out your situation. ]

[ Setting tracker to target object… ]

[ USER is 500m away from exit. ]

Yu sits there, allowing the messages to sink in. For a moment, he’d forgotten that this would always be the work of the System. 

He shakes his head to rid himself of any lingering grogginess and carefully brings himself to his feet. In the distance, as promised, is the only other source of light aside from his locket—a glowing white rectangle vaguely resembling a door, waiting upright as it does every time he is sent to this strange mindscape.

Slowly, limbs fatigued, Yu walks over to the exit as the ground ripples beneath his feet. Floating beside him, the tracker’s number of meters steadily decreases. 

It feels like an eternity before he finally reaches the light.

[ USER is 0m away from exit. ]

What lies beyond the door is totally uncertain; Yu would like to hold onto the hope that he'll simply wake up as per usual, but something tells him that won’t be the case. Still, there’s nowhere else for him to go. Not unless he enjoys the loneliness of a solitary forever—and even if so, he has the nagging feeling that people need him.

Inhale, exhale.

There really is no getting around it. Yu steps out of the darkness and into the light of the exit.

…

Weightlessness strikes him before his senses are muted.

[ Entering new dream. ]

“A new dream?”

Like an epiphany, just as he’s being transported from one mindscape to another, Yu remembers the disaster that occurred before his bout of unconsciousness. The lounge had been filled with fire, then embraced with thorns, and most importantly—

[ USER has entered Spectating Mode. ]

“—Yue’er—!”

Yu blinks and stops mid-shout, regaining his senses in the middle of a fairytale-like landscape. 

Frozen in an eternal sunrise, the sleepy forest of his surroundings is painted in a warm pink wash. Even the towering trees and steep, rising cliffs appear rosy under the light. A little ways from the stone path beneath Yu’s feet is a babbling creek, crystal-clear and so brilliantly lavender under the dawn sky that it glimmers. 

However, it too is halted in its tracks by the absence of time—so, rather than follow its futile downstream flow, Yu’s gaze traces the creek’s edge until he finally looks at the quaint cottage before him.

It’s odd; just looking at it makes him feel at home. The thatched roof, the brick base and chimney, the curved shuttered windows, the waterwheel—perhaps it’s because the sight seems right out of a storybook that it feels so comforting. 

Yu takes a step forward. So does someone else, right through him.

Barely able to stifle his scream in time, Yu stumbles backwards, watching as none other than Silver proceeds on the stone path. Unaware of the wide eyes trained on his back, he continues on ahead with a relaxed posture. At this moment, something he said during an interview comes to mind—

…‘I lived deep in a Briar Valley forest before coming to this school’...

“Is this what he meant?” wonders Yu aloud, hesitantly following Silver to the cottage. When it becomes apparent that he truly cannot be perceived, he breaks into a jog to outpace the sophomore’s naturally longer strides. “It’s… definitely not what I imagined…”

Although Silver’s resting stern look is unparalleled, there’s something blissful about it that Yu just can’t quite place. The look of someone returning home, ready to rest and bask in familiar comfort after a long day.

“But…” Yu hesitates as he realizes something, the two of them approaching the door. “This is just a dream, isn’t it? What are you expecting to see when you enter that house?”

Obviously, he receives no answer. It doesn’t stop him from holding his breath as Silver opens the door.

Consequently, Yu realizes a second earlier that there is nothing but a despairingly hollow void on the inside of the cottage.

“Silver, wait!” he shouts to no avail.

Silver naturally steps inside, only for his foot to find no purchase and no floor. His eyes widen helplessly as he stumbles forward, plummeting into the darkness. Yu scrambles to stand on the edge of the doorstep while clinging to either side of the door frame with both hands. 

When he looks down into the void after Silver, he sees just a flash of that iridescent hair of his before it’s gone.

“Dammit—!”

[ Ending Spectating Mode. Termination in 3… 2… 1… ]

“—what?”

Suddenly, Yu’s grip slackens against his will, and everything starts disappearing around him. As the step beneath his feet and the frame underneath his hands fade from existence, he finds himself weightless again but intimately aware that he’s falling this time. 

His descent is a terrifyingly long one. Various scenes and flashes of light zip by, until he passes two halves of a stone wall that shut like gates and meld together above him. The light disappears. Gravity chooses then to reorient itself entirely—meaning Yu is suspended in air for a moment before crashing down face-first onto the cold, hard stone of what is now the ground. The force knocks the air right out of his lungs, sending him into a fit of violent hacking and coughing as he tries to regain it.

“What just—” He gasps, balling his hands into weak fists. Although he’s still on the floor, he shakily props his upper body up on his elbows. “What just—happened—”

“Yu? You’re in this dream, too?”

Under the dim lighting, Yu looks up to see Silver on the floor nearby, appearing equally disoriented but at least more conscious than he was before. Strangely, a glowing specter of what seems to be a bird flutters around him for a moment, but it’s gone as soon as it appears.

“Oh, Silver!” Yu exclaims, relieved. He hurries to sit up properly. “You remember what’s going on now, right?”

Silver visibly hesitates, considering something, and then nods slowly. “Yes. Not only that, but I also remembered—a few months ago I had a foreboding dream with Lord Malleus in it, almost identical to this one.” He swivels his head to look around the room they’re in. “...it seems that we’ve fallen into a different room this time.”

Yu takes the time to also observe their surroundings. Dark stone walls, eaten away by age; hardly lit by a few sparse torches, flickering with an ominously familiar green fire. 

Had Silver experienced that same thing in his initial dream? Stepping into the cottage only to be betrayed and sent into the abyss? If so, then…

“It must be the same castle,” Silver murmurs to himself without any prompting. “In that case, perhaps I can still find…”

He trails off, brows furrowing, and meets Yu’s eyes. 

“What is it?” asks Yu. 

“I’m sorry to ask this of you,” says Silver with earnest remorse, “but would you mind accompanying me in exploring this castle? There is something from last time that I feel I need to find, and it may assist in understanding our current situation.”

“Well…” Regardless of any possible misgivings about this situation, Yu mostly trusts Silver. Mostly. But, better to be around a knight with a comforting presence than anyone else in a dreary place like this. “...okay. Why not?”

“There are some risks. I don’t know what to expect once we exit…” Silver trails off, realizing it was just a figure of speech, and stands up. His movements quickly lose their dizzy sluggishness. Once he’s on his feet, he offers a hand to help Yu up, which is gratefully taken. 

“Let’s go, then.”

…

The interior of the castle is ancient and almost abandoned, its walls a powerfully deep slate grey. There are only a few torches here and there to light the way, forming small spheres of cold light amidst the shadows. The arched ceilings are high up, causing the sound of their footsteps to echo back at them. Even the air is stiff and chilly, masking any signs of life. 

“Just like Diasomnia,” Silver whispers. 

The comparison is eerily accurate. Yu thinks about the lounge, where their physical bodies should still be, and a shiver runs down his spine. 

“It… feels like we’re getting involved in something we shouldn’t,” he murmurs. “Do you feel that?”

“…yes,” admits Silver, a hand resting on his baton for reassurance. His eyes narrow slightly. “But at the same time, that’s a sign that we’re on the right path… I hope.”

He continues down the dim hallway with cautious confidence, leaving Yu quietly in awe of his ability to push forward despite his doubts.

It takes what feels like several minutes of walking before the bird specter from earlier flits by, catching non-existent wind beneath its wings and zipping ahead of them. 

Silver’s eyes light up, stopping mid-walk. “That was—!”

“Wait, you saw it, too?”

“Yes. It normally marks the owner of a dream.” Before Yu can ask how he knows that, Silver continues. “Since this is my dream… I think it’s leading us to where we need to be. We should follow it.”

Again with that need to find and need to be—it only stirs skepticism in Yu, especially considering what happened the last time Silver simply followed the logic of the dream, but at the same time his hands are tied. “If that’s what you want, then. We don’t have a lot of time to deliberate.”

There’s only a curt dip of Silver’s chin in acknowledgement before he starts running after the bird, forcing Yu to sprint in order to keep up with him. It takes them down another long hallway before slipping into the entry arch of a winding staircase. Silver doesn’t even hesitate before racing up the stairs. 

“Silver, hold on a—seriously?!”

Yu can do nothing but chase after them. 

They seem to be ascending a tower, given the excessive length of the circular staircase that extends upwards for what may as well be an eternity. Yu wouldn’t find it difficult to believe if it were the tallest in the whole castle. 

Finally, the bird gives one last weak flutter of its wings before dissipating. At that point, they’ve already reached the top, stopping right before the entrance to the room that crowns the tower.

The door shudders and creaks, swinging open on its weak hinges with barely any force; as if inviting them inside. 

With Yu close behind, Silver enters, only to abruptly freeze in his tracks. 

“This is it,” murmurs Silver breathlessly, sounding absolutely certain.

His gaze is trained on the sight right before him: the room empty aside from a sole spinning wheel, placed in front of floor-to-ceiling frosted windows. Its spindle is so sharp that, even with the limited illumination from the torches, it gleams in the light. Uncovered as it is, the intrusive temptation to touch it is strong even to Yu. 

Outside, lightning flashes and thunder roars, momentarily turning the spinning wheel into a menacing light-lined silhouette. The rain only intensifies after, drumming against the window in violent torrents.

Silver suddenly takes off one of his gloves and steps towards the spinning wheel.

“Uh… Silver?”

Yu finds it difficult to hide his concern, and even more so when there comes no indication that he was heard at all. Silver continues to walk at a slow but resolute pace and reaches for the spindle with his ungloved hand. It’s perhaps the exact opposite of what he should reasonably be doing.

( ‘Touch the spindle.’ )

Oh. Yu’s eyes widen.

“Silver—Silver!” Yu raises his voice a notch, going so far as to grab Silver by the arm; only to be easily shrugged off. It’s surprisingly rude coming from the normally-composed boy, but it doesn’t seem intentional. “What are you doing?”

He receives no response—Silver continues on as if in a trance, eyes wide in an uncharacteristically morbid fascination. It’s not unlike watching a trainwreck in slow motion, the way his pale finger draws closer and closer to the spindle while Yu is helpless to stop him again. 

Closer, and closer…

( ‘Touch it, I say.’ )

“Silver, don’t touch that—”

The spindle breaks skin. 

Instead of blood, something dark and inky comes out of Silver’s finger. It is scarily reminiscent of blot. Silver stares at it as if he has no recollection of what he just did to himself.

“SILVER!” 

Yu operates purely on instinct, clamping his hands around Silver’s to stop the ‘bleeding.’ He examines the other boy’s expression, shifting from confused to dawning horror. “Are you okay? Do you feel weird?”

“N…no,” Silver forces out, furrowing his brows. His skin has gone pale, sweat beading on his face, although it could just be from the shock of snapping out of his stupor. “I don’t think so—”

Around them, the room shakes violently; he and Yu both stumble as a result. An inky darkness seeps in from the cracks in the walls, rapidly covering the floor and filling the air.

“I—Is that blot?” Yu wonders in a terrified sort of way, stepping back as it approaches. He shoots a quick glance at Silver—being in a dream together is bizarre enough, but being alone in a dream with a possible Overblotter…!

Thankfully, Silver doesn’t seem to be going mad. No blot drips from his forehead or anything of the sort, but his lips set into a thin, stressed line. “It isn’t. We still have to get out of here, though. Hold onto me, tightly!”

He offers his arm, and Yu doesn’t think twice before grabbing onto it as if his life depends on the strength of his grip. In a way, it does. Then rationality clears his mind for a moment; he blinks and opens his mouth to ask what purpose this serves.

Silver, eyes narrowed with concentration, is just a second faster to speak.

“Those I’ve met and will someday…”

Sparkles of magic coalesce around them, little flashes of birds and flowers, as Silver recites his incantation. Yu draws in a sharp breath, surprised—this must be his signature spell.

“… 「 Meet in a Dream. 」”

The world fades as they warp away.

…

Yu hadn’t realized he was squeezing his eyes shut on instinct, but he opens them once he feels ‘wind’ ruffling his hair. He immediately regrets it.

The scenery around them is gorgeous, no doubt—a warm sky packed flush with cotton candy clouds, kite-like birds cutting a path through the air. It is, however, impossible to appreciate when one is plummeting directly towards the ground and there is less ‘wind’ as it is just your body obeying the laws of physics.

“Why are we so high up?!” Yu screams. For maybe the third time now, his deathly fear of heights is being weaponized against him. 

Silver’s jaw is clenched tightly, focused on the rapidly-approaching ground. “I’m losing control… Hold on tight!”

He then grabs and holds Yu close to him, reassuring but also incredibly tight to the point of squeezing.

“Crap!” Yu gasps, the air being forced out of his lungs. Silver is strong, just as sturdy as the Leeches, but Yu’s hands still try to find purchase on the Diasomnia uniform’s various belts and armor sections.

“Sorry, but please bear with me!” Silver insists. “If we’re separated here—well, let’s just say I don’t think I’ll be able to find you again…!”

Yu promptly shuts his mouth, even though he still holds extreme misgivings towards their decreasing altitude. It’s then that they break through the clouds, and their surroundings change in an instant. 

Gone is the dreamy sky—they find themselves falling towards another bleak-looking castle, raised among rocky mountains and an endless pit filled with briar thorns. The sky and landscape alike are a somber greenish-grey. Diasomnia, Yu’s mind provides helpfully.

Regardless, the walkway leading up to the dorm grows less and less distant. 

Silver uses one arm to pull Yu even closer to him, muscles straining with the effort, as he releases the other to grab his magical pen. He draws it from its holster and yells at the top of his lungs, “WINDS!”

They are showered in sparkles before the world becomes blurry, spinning as their bodies reorient to be straight up. Yu vaguely registers his feet gently touching the ground and the arm around him loosening, but he still opts to lean on the infinitely more solid Silver.

“Are you okay?”

“Ughhh…” Yu closes his eyes, hoping his dizziness will die down. “Sorry. I don’t think I can stand on my own.”

“Take your time. I admit that spell was a bit abrupt.” Silver exhales in relief. “At least we’re both unharmed.”

Yu frowns. He stands up straight as soon as he can, dusting off his clothes. “I know I am for sure. How’s your finger?”

At some point, Silver must have somehow gotten his glove replaced. He peels it off to reveal his index finger back to perfectly normal. There is no scarring, no dried blood, nothing—just unmarred skin.

Some of the tension leaves Yu’s shoulders. “Thank God.” He looks away as Silver puts his glove back on. “So… from one castle to another, huh? This is a scarily accurate recreation of Diasomnia.”

“Right… it’s just a dream,” Silver remarks. “If nothing else, it’s proof that we managed to shake off the darkness…” He closes his eyes. “Good. That’s good.”

“Darkness? You mean that black stuff coming after us?” asks Yu. Just thinking about it again fills him with a sense of dread.

Silver nods. “If it catches you, it drags you into an even deeper slumber—I’ve encountered it a few times before. I’m… not sure why it showed up as soon as I pricked my finger, though.”

He pauses and stares quite intently at his own hand, lost in thought.

“How did I let that happen again? I thought I’d learned my lesson after last time, but as soon as I heard Lord Malleus’ voice…”

“Silver,” Yu interrupts. “Um, I don’t really get what happened, but we need to figure out where to go from here…” He gestures vaguely at the pathway before them and the grand exterior of Diasomnia.

“Ah—! Right.” Silver lets his hand fall back to his side, looking towards the dream version of his dormitory. “Let’s assess the situation first. I believe the owner of this dream will be inside.”

“Lead the way, then.”

Before they head into the main building, Yu hesitates and turns to look back. Where the winding cobblestone bridge towards the exit mirror normally would be is an opaque, all-consuming fog. Amidst that fog are wisps of green; magical fireflies flitting back and forth, shining like emeralds. 

So this was made possible by…

“Yu?” Silver calls, already a few meters away.

Shaking his head to rid himself of any irrelevant thoughts, Yu turns back around. “Coming, sorry!”

He hurries down the path, trying not to look back again.

[sciatu]

SPIAGGIA SENZA SOLE

Una spiaggia senza sole è come una chitarra senza corde un libro senza parole un sogno che non ricordiamo. Eppure, in questo giorno atono senza luce e voci lungo il freddo bagnasciuga qualcuno osserva le onde raccoglie sassi colorati segue le navi scivolare nel blu ascolta ed il vento scuotere nervoso ombrelloni chiusi, barche arenate. Qualcuno insiste testardo ad amare questo mare ora inutile perché la ogni spiaggia è come il bordo della vita vive indifferente e instancabile nutrendo vite ai margini con una forza vitale indomabile come la speranza degli uomini. Per questo c’è sempre qualcuno lungo il suo grigiore infinito, forse i sognatori, o i coraggiosi o forse i più incoscienti ma sicuramente i più innamorati sedotti da questa instancabile distesa da questa liquida energia immortale come la vita. Qualcuno che sa attendere il sole che aspetta che voci e colori tornino sulla sabbia scolorita. Qualche folle, instancabile amante qualcuno presente per vocazione a ribadire speranze e illusioni malgrado le nubi basse ed il vento gelido. Qualcuno che crede nel domani qualche invincibile profeta fermo e risoluto nel suo amore. Così bisogna credere nella vita fedeli ai suoi domani, drogati delle sue pure certezze malgrado le bombe malgrado le stragi la fame ed il dolore qualche poeta inutile qualche cantante da strada o un pittore cieco deve confermare che malgrado tutto la felicità appartiene alla vita che il dolore, come il grigiore è un vestito provvisorio, che la speranza ora assente è come il mare indomabile che la vita è inarrestabile e che le sue onde infinite vincono il nulla, donano nuovi giorni generano altra vita malgrado tutto il dolore malgrado tutte le guerre ed i silenzi, le lacrime che noi uomini ogni giorno doniamo al nostro futuro.

A beach without sun is like a guitar without strings, a book without words, a dream we don't remember. Yet, on this toneless day, without light and voices, along the cold shore, someone observes the waves, collects colored stones he follows the ships sliding into the blue, he listens and the wind shake nervously, umbrellas closed, boats stranded. Someone stubbornly insists on loving this now useless sea, because every beach is like the edge of life, living indifferent and tireless, nourishing lives on the margins, with an indomitable vital force like the hope of men. For this reason there is always someone, along its infinite greyness, perhaps the dreamers, or the brave or perhaps the most reckless, but certainly the most in love, seduced by this tireless expanse from this liquid energy, immortal like life. Someone who knows how to wait for the sun, who waits for voices and colors to adorn the faded sand. Some crazy, tireless lover, someone present by vocation, to reiterate hopes and illusions, despite the low clouds and the freezing wind. Someone who believes in tomorrow, some invincible prophet, firm and resolute in his love for him. This is how we must believe in life, faithful to his tomorrows, addicted to his pure certainties. despite the bombs, despite the massacres, the hunger and the pain, some useless poet, some street singer, or a blind painter, must confirm that despite everything, happiness belongs to life, that pain, like greyness, is a dress temporary, that hope is now absent, is like the indomitable sea that life is unstoppable and that its infinite waves overcome nothingness, they give new days, they generate new life despite all the pain, despite all the wars and silences, the tears, which we men give to our future every day.

[sefarad-haami]

Modern Ladino Culture

🇪🇸 El libro "Modern Ladino Culture: Press, Belles Lettres, and Theater in the Late Ottoman Empire" de Olga Borovaya, finalista de los National Jewish Book Awards en 2011, es el primero en examinar como un fenómeno unificado tres géneros de la producción cultural ladina: la prensa, la literatura de ficción y el teatro. Borovaya identifica estos géneros como importaciones de Occidente que se arraigaron entre los sefardíes otomanos a principios del siglo XX y se desarrollaron dentro del contexto cultural local, centrándose en las comunidades de Salónica, Esmirna y Estambul. La autora considera crucial abordar la cultura impresa ladina como un fenómeno único para entender el movimiento cultural de la época y su importancia en la historia sefardí. Analiza la evolución de los tres géneros, comenzando con la prensa, seguida de la literatura de ficción, y finalmente el teatro, destacando el papel significativo de las escuelas de la Alianza en la expansión de la cultura ladina. Borovaya también explora el fenómeno de la "reescritura" de novelas europeas occidentales, que luego se serializaban en la prensa ladina. Con notas detalladas y un índice, Borovaya presenta un análisis exhaustivo y accesible de un conjunto de materiales raros, proporcionando una valiosa contribución al estudio de la cultura sefardí.

🇺🇸 The book "Modern Ladino Culture: Press, Belles Lettres, and Theater in the Late Ottoman Empire" by Olga Borovaya, a finalist for the National Jewish Book Awards in 2011, is the first to examine three genres of Ladino cultural production as a unified phenomenon: the press, fiction literature, and theater. Borovaya identifies these genres as imports from the West that took root among Ottoman Sephardim at the beginning of the 20th century and developed within the local cultural context, focusing on the communities of Salonica, Izmir, and Istanbul. The author considers it crucial to approach Ladino print culture as a single phenomenon to understand the cultural movement of the time and its importance in Sephardi history. She analyzes the evolution of the three genres, starting with the press, followed by fiction literature, and finally theater, highlighting the significant role of the Alliance schools in the expansion of Ladino culture. Borovaya also explores the phenomenon of "rewriting" Western European novels, which were then serialized in the Ladino press. With detailed notes and an index, Borovaya presents a comprehensive and accessible analysis of a rare collection of materials, providing a valuable contribution to the study of Sephardi culture.

[cljordan-imperium]

FLASH FICTION FRIDAY

Cruz stood on the balcony overlooking the practice grounds.  Abriella was there in her fighting leathers facing off against Deacon.  To anyone looking at him, the King looked relaxed; he was anything but.  His sister was there facing off against a powerful male holding a sword forged in the finest Nephilim steel.  Deacon was a deadly male before he became a Horseman and now he was more so.  Abriella was smaller, and even with her powers Cruz could not help but to worry over her.  She was his light in the darkness, his Polaris in this fucked up world.

Knuckles whitening on the top of the balustrade, Cruz decided it might be prudent to retire inside before he crushed the stone with his bare hands and offended the Palace.  The sounds of clashing steel grated upon his ears till he thought his nerves would exit his body to dance across the balcony like lightning upon the sky.  Still his eyes remained on the graceful yet powerful moves of his sister, transfixed by her fighting style, so unlike his own.  As she and Deacon stopped for a break, she looked his way and for a moment his heart stopped, the smile she gave him sending him back years in time and to another place, Chicago, to the first time he saw that smile.

No longer was he on the balcony, but he was in Chicago, in the library.  That damn four story library at the Chicago Sanctuary where Abriella would go to hide from everyone after Cruz had somehow talked her into returning after Talon and Dez had scared her half to death.  He’d shown her the library because it was quiet, and then it was the only place she’d go besides her room and his.  

That day he’d gone in, afraid that she’d always be afraid of him.  Even if she always feared the other Nephilim and never understood what and who she was, she was his little sister.  Family. From the second Charmaine told him, he’d loved her to the depths of his damaged soul.  He would destroy the earth for her, and she was afraid of him.  He had to make her see that he was no threat to her.

As he had searched the vast expanse of the library for her, he’d heard a sneeze and knew where she was. Mysting over to her location, he did find her.  A little nest of pillows by a lamp, along with a fuzzy blanket and books on Nephilim magic and heritage. Cruz crouched down to her level, so he wasn’t towering over where she had settled in.  “Settling in for some reading, little bit?” It was the nickname he’d called her since she’d come back.

She nodded, holding the book in her hands a little closer.  “I thought these might tell me something.” Her voice was quiet, and she didn’t meet his eyes.  But she was talking, Cruz would take it.

“Those aren’t bad. Can I suggest a few others?” That got her glancing up at him.  Nice.  She nodded and he mysted off.  

Not only did he get her books, he also went to the kitchen and got her some snacks that the staff assured him that young women would love and one large thermos of the coffee they knew she liked and one of water. Mysting back, he again crouched low next to her.  “A proper pillow palace needs provisions, princess.”  He handed her the boxed snacks from the kitchen and the two thermoses.  “The kitchen assures me all will be to your liking.” He attempted a smile, which he rarely did, and a wink.  “And, I think these volumes will serve you better than the ones you have.  Little bit, I know you’re still trying to take everything in,” in something very un-Cruz-like, he reached out and suddenly took her hand, VERY gently, “but I’m here if you have questions.  I want to help you.”  There was a sadness in his eyes that he would not have allowed anyone else to see.

“Really?” Her brows drew together. Cruz seemed to scare everyone, she hadn’t been sure that his offer of help had been anything other than a cursory formality.  Now he seemed hurt that she hadn’t taken him up on it.  It was all so confusing.

“Really.  Anything.  Any time.  You are more important to me than anything else. I love you, little bit.  Always.”  He lightly squeezed her hand, she had to know how much she meant to him.  He had to let her know.

For the first time her eyes met his brilliant blue ones, so blue they seemed to be impossibly blue.  Like something out of a movie or painting, too perfect.  And in that moment, there was no doubting his sincerity.  In a lifetime of running, of being chased, of fearing that the next person would kill her, she had found her big brother, her protector, a man who would do anything for her, who LOVED HER. With tears in her eyes, she smiled at him. It was all she could do, she had no words.

Cruz had been alive for over 1500 years on that day.  He’d long before stopped counting exactly how many, it no longer mattered.  Never in all those years had he felt what he did when his sister smiled at him.  He saw the love echoed right back in her eyes and in that smile.  The rest of the world could hate him, but if his little sister smiled at him like that, he didn’t care.  It took him 1500 years to find her, but he would go to hell and back, literally, to make sure he never lost her.

Abriella was so small when wrapped tight in Cruz’s arms for the first hug she received from him, but she had never felt more safe and more loved.  Through all that was to come, through all the pain and fear, they would lean on one another often. They are unbreakable.

@flashfictionfridayofficial

[fish-harlan]

just started book 4 of the expanse and I gotta say it's entertaining how the first two books were "corporations keep fucking things up for everybody by messing with alien things they don't understand" and book four comes around and the UN is like "haha it's fine we'll give the first interstellar colony rights to a corporation, it'll be fine!"

[lunamagicablu]

Siedi in silenzio e medita sul fatto che non hai confini, i tuoi limiti sono i limiti dell'universo.

Sentiti espandere e in questa sensazione includi ogni cosa: il sole sorge dentro di te, le stelle si muovono dentro di te, gli alberi crescono e i pianeti appaiono e scompaiono in questo stato di consapevolezza espanso sentiti immensamente beato.

Quella diventerà la tua meditazione. Quindi ogni volta che hai tempo e non hai nulla da fare, siedi semplicemente in silenzio e sentiti espanso. Lascia cadere i tuoi limiti. Trascendi ogni limite.

All'inizio, per qualche giorno, sembrerà una follia, perché ci siamo troppo abituati ai nostri limiti. In realtà non ci sono confini.

Il limite è un limite mentale. È tale perché noi crediamo che sia così.

Percepisci questa espansione oceanica il più spesso possibile e presto entrerai in sintonia.

A quel punto basterà un piccolo mutamento di prospettiva per far apparire quell' armonia. Ogni sera, quando vai a letto, addormentati in questa consapevolezza espansa.

Addormentati come se le stelle si muovessero dentro di te, come se il mondo aprisse e scomparisse dentro di te.

Addormentati come fossi l'universo. AI mattino, non appena ti accorgi che il sonno se ne è andato, di nuovo ricorda questa espansione, alzati come fossi l'universo. E anche durante il giorno, ricordalo il più spesso possibile.

Osho da Il libro arancione art by Vixenn69 ********************** Sit in silence and meditate that you have no boundaries, your limits are the limits of the universe.

Feel yourself expanding and in this sensation include everything: the sun rises within you, the stars move within you, the trees grow and the planets appear and disappear in this state of expanded awareness feel immensely blissful.

That will become your meditation. So whenever you have time and nothing to do, just sit in silence and feel expanded. Drop your limits. Transcend all limits.

At first, for a few days, it will seem crazy, because we have become too used to our limitations. There are actually no borders.

The limit is a mental limit. It is such because we believe it to be so.

Feel this oceanic expansion as often as possible and you will soon connect.

At that point, a small change of perspective will be enough for that harmony to appear. Every night when you go to bed, fall asleep in this expanded awareness.

Fall asleep as if the stars move inside you, as if the world opens and disappears inside you.

Fall asleep like you are the universe. In the morning, as soon as you feel sleep is gone, again remember this expansion, rise as if you were the universe. And even during the day, remember this as often as possible.

Osho from The Orange Book art by Vixenn69 

[jackhkeynes]

The Good Game

notes in translation on the subject of the Good Game period (ca. 1865–94).

Durant l'oc epoc sceyen y stabliscment d'alleyanç-federaç plusour volent tandem y traitment mondial tras y siecr veintem descreir, tal com y Collujon Drengoçan n'Europ norðovester (y crescenç den closisceu d'an 1894 posc l'accession d'Istr Boral). This period sees the establishment of several alliance-federacies that would go on to define the geopolitics of the twentieth century, such as the Drengot Collusion in north-western Europe (whose expansion concluded in 1894 with the accession of Borland).

Y parceuçon dell'epoc Bel-Jou com un asc ant spionnaç opulent e pisment conjuraçonal cas politic sou teneur covart no's cos enter dignað—se poð comparaçon fair entr y parceuçon pouvlancer (par meyan de livr e lasc) dell'affer Desarden d'an 1887 un ambasctour Londresc eð y rey a Naccon Day envount contr y realtað cojannessem. The perception of the Good Game period as a time of glamorous espionage and political machinations behind closed doors is not entirely deserved—compare the popular perception (via books and film) of the 1887 Desarden affair involving a London ambassador and the king of Nackon Day with the tawdrier reality.

Nentamen, l'epoc a se reitfeyað com jagat celebr por romanç a spionnaç eð a masquira. Nevertheless, the period has cemented itself as a popular setting for spycraft and masquira stories.

[hoppinkiss]

here is the HIGHTLY ANTICIPATED /j Sk.yrim SE modlist organized by category bc i have problems. i Probably missed some aslkdfj. will link to mods i find particularly interesting/were hard for me to find myself

(disclaimer: always check the requirements and installation instructions before installing a mod)

Followers

Kh.ajiit Will Follow (JKJ replacer here)

Ka.idan (Ka.idan Extended here)

In.igo (the man the myth the legend my HUSBAND)

Lucien

Nether's Follower Framework (keep 10 vanilla followers in your party, and more!)

SNIFF - Simple No Internal Friendly Fire

a bunch of animations by user Axarien

Meshes, Textures, Body

Majestic Mountains

Realistic Water Two

Skyland AIO

Expressive Facegen Morphs

The New Gentleman (🌶️)

DynDOLOD

Static Mesh Improvement Mod/SMIM

Kh.ajiit Hair by Saerileth

KS Hairdos

Enhanced Lights and FX

Weapons Armor Clothing & Clutter Fixes

Book Covers Sk.yrim

Sk.yrim Flora Overhaul

CBBE (🌶️ images in page, female body base that can be sfw)

OBody (🌶️ images in page, used to change body types of player and npcs automatically or on command)

Snazzy Items for In.igo

Better Argonian Horns

K.C.C.E. Kh.ajiit Character Creation Extended

BnP - Female Skin (🌶️ images in page, skin retexture)

Hallgarth's Additional (Vanilla) Hair

HIMBO (🌶️ images in page, male body base that can be sfw)

For kh.ajiit and ar.gonian body textures search for user MONSTERaider

RUSTIC CLOTHING

Bellyaches Animal and Creature Pack

Forgotten Retex Project

High Poly Project

Beastly Smiles

Expressive Facial Animation (female and male editions)

High Poly Vanilla Hair

Vanilla Hair - Salt and Wind

Clothes

Noblesse Oblige and Noble Dress CBBE

Cloaks of Sk.yrim

Realistic Eyeglasses SE

Wizard Hats

Face Masks of Sk.yrim

Changing People

RS Children Overhaul

Armor Variants Expansion

Armor and Clothing Extension

N.U.D.E. powered by Underwear.dll (UN-🌶️s your game a bit)

Guard Dialogue Overhaul

Run For Your Lives

Better Courier

Project Ja-Kha'Jay - Kh.ajiit Diversity Overhaul

Prince and the Pauper

Bandit Lines Expansion

Hunters Not Bandits

Children of the Hist - An Ar.gonian NPC Overhaul

Friendly Giants

I'm Talkin' Here

Changing Locations

Clutter Doesn't Respawn (for player homes)

Magical College of Wi.nterhold

Opulent Thieves Guild

Kh.ajiit Has Wares

Immersive Kh.ajiit Caravan Mules

Adding Features

Campfire

Sk.yrim Settlement Builder

He.arthfire Multiple Adoptions

He.arthfire Extended

Keep It Clean

Solitude Furniture

Mihail House Cats + House Cats Xtudo version + names for Xtudo's version

Skald's Mail

Convenient Horses

Beast Skeletons

The Pa.arthurnax Dilemma

Kh.ajiit Child Maisha

PC Head Tracking and Voice Type

The Eloquent Reader - True Scholar SE Editon

Auto Sleep For Me Now

Go To Bed

Immersive Interactions

Sk.yrim's Got Talent

I'm Glad You're Here (mod that adds friendly affection!)

Wearable Lanterns

Better Thieves Guild Practice Locks

Realistic Elven Children

BeastHHBB - Adoptable Beast Children

Decorator Helper

Gold Ingots to Gold Coins

Jewelry Limiter

Let Your Hair Down

Pronouns

Rich Sk.yrim Merchants

Alternate Start - Live Another Life (there are additional starts if you search on nexus)

Achievements Mods Enabler

360 Walk and Run Plus

Double Beds for Spooning

I'm Walkin' Here

Immersive Realistic Party Clothing Overhaul

Do.vahkiin can lean Sit Kneel Lay down and Meditate etc too

Security Overhaul SKSE - Regional Locks

a bunch of animations by CHIMgarden

Oxygen Meter 2

Improved Camera SE

Bugfixes and UI

Unofficial Sk.yrim Special Edition Patch/US.SEP

SkyUI

Better Third Person Selection

RaceMenu

A Quality World Map

A Matter of Time

Barenziah Quest Markers

I'm Talking To You

NPCs don't follow through doors while talking

Racemenu Outfit Toggle

Whose Quest Is It Anyway