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ficthots · 2 years ago

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Bonded: Chapter One

A/N: This is my first time dabbling in the Star Wars Universe so I would like to add a couple of notes regarding my choices for this story. It is not canon to actual Star Wars events (as in do not expect a Kylo Ren death). Also, I am fully aware that some of the main plot points are not canon to Star Wars lore and the real stories. This is also posted on my AO3 account under the same username. I hope you all enjoy this and please let me know what you think!

Summary: Being from a royal family from the small planet of Bar'leth should have been enough of a clue to what type of future you could expect to lead. One identical to your parents. Get married, have a couple of children, and then rule with one another. Where does love fit into this all? Arranged marriages are the normalcy in your world, but what was not a normalcy was when that marriage was to the Supreme Leader of the First Order, Kylo Ren. Your entire world gets turned upside once you become the Empress, but will your hopes and dreams of true love be squashed with this arrangement? Perhaps the presence of the force in your life has other plans for you.

Word Count: 6.3K+

Chapter Two

Very rarely are there things that can be a universal experience amongst a general group of individuals. Typically, most do not dream of the same things as others, but this one event is something that some, if not most, do. A wedding day.

The most joyous day of your life, most would expect. A blur of memories filled with a dress tailored exactly to you, decorations filling every nook and cranny of the selected space, surrounded by those most special in your life. Most importantly, the person whom you love most in the entire galaxy, standing there, waiting to start the rest of your lives together.

A universal experience. For most, anyways.

Despite knowing that this was just a fantasy to you, it didn’t take the sting away from the realization of it being exactly that. A fantasy. Something that would never happen to you or in your world in general.

Filled with false hope that one day, that dream would come true. Yet, here you were, awoken from said dream, crushed to a final understanding that your life was about to change. For better or worse you were still uncertain, but change was on the horizon.

Just like the sun you were watching rise over the mountain top from your balcony. Peeking over the horizon to welcome another day. A day you had been dreading and fearful of since you had been told. The arrangement had been made only some weeks prior.

Of course, it should have been expected. Those in your position were never given the opportunity to go out into the galaxy and select the person you were certain you would be in love with for the remainder of your days. Another choice ripped away from you, stamped for you, not a care about you and your thoughts on it.

A heartbreaking, soul crushing reality you had been too numb to face. Unable to sleep for days leading up to his arrival. A showcase of unity across the galaxy was the goal here. The entire purpose of your bond to this man.

A man you had never seen or spoken to before in your life. A match made in the heavens according to your mother, father, and brother. What more could your small planet of Bar’leth ask for? Their princess was going to marry the Supreme Leader of the First Order.

Celebrations had been planned and you watched from afar as many citizens rose with the sun and began their preparations for this wondrous and joyous day. Was it joyous? It was your duty. Your responsibility.

To put up a front to the entire galaxy that the First Order was on a mission to bring peace to all planets. A glimmer of hope was being birthed today. Your peaceful planet that had roots back to ancient traces you couldn’t even begin to track if you dedicated your days to it. The perfect match.

Situated in the Core Worlds, inhabited by lovers of the arts and education, most with family ties dating back as far as your own. A distinguished university in which you were a proud graduate of was the crown jewel of your planet. People and species coming from across the span of the vast galaxy to attend and gain an education unmatched elsewhere.

A chance to strengthen relationships that most planets had never fathomed would even be a possibility, yours included. Because of you, this was the opportunity presented. A bond creating this all. Today.

It was what you had been trained for since you were a child. To be a diplomatic functioning member of this society to be given a chance at getting your planet's name spread for all to hear. When your father, King Erix, had been requested for a special meeting with the highest officials of the Order, not much thought was given to it.

A regularity for your father and brother, Prince Azra, as he trained to inherit the throne. What was not expected was for a deal to be made that same day between the two governing bodies for your hand.

The agreement was signed that evening.

While you could admit that this was a serious opportunity for your people, you couldn’t help but feel defeated. You at least had hoped you would have set eyes on your future husband before your wedding day.

Optimistic indeed.

An early riser you always were. It was one of the only solitary moments you were granted as a royal. Giving you a moment to breathe and think on your own. Something you would never take for granted as there was always somebody by your side.

Your pocket of peace was disrupted by the deafening sound of ships entering the atmosphere. For what, you were hoping they wouldn’t follow through. A silly hope you knew was slim, but it slipped away the moment they entered your eye line.

Only seconds later were your chamber doors thrown open and a slew of people entered. You didn’t startle, expecting them to have arrived any minute. “Princess, your morning tea. We must begin preparations immediately. Your mother is on her way and should be here momentarily with your gown for presentation.”

Nodding at your lady in waiting’s rushed words, her formality dropped as she set the tray down on the outdoor table. “How are you feeling, dove?” A sigh escaped your lips after sipping the scalding liquid, eyes roving over the ginger’s porcelain like features.

“Fine.” You could tell as she cocked her head at you she didn’t buy it for a second. Your warm hand enclosed around her cold one, softening your features. “Truly, Tamsyn. I’m fine.” Only a brief nod, your mother’s chirpy voice bounced off the walls.

The heavy gown tossed onto your made bed, her bright eyes took in your figure as it sat in the iron chair. “My darling dove is getting married today.” Seeing her eyes sparkle as tears welled, you stood and approached her.

She pulled you into a tight embrace, a kiss on your head. “Okay, we need to begin. Your presentation is in only two hours time. They have already arrived and are being shown the plans for the ceremony and celebration.” Being ushered into the vanity chair, you sat patiently, staring at your reflection as they made a miracle happen on you.

As the final lace was adjusted on your gown, Tamsyn squatted, placing your feet in the matching slippers. She smoothed down a pleat on the dress as she stood back up, giving you a final once over. Tamsyn, while only slightly older than you, had been the closest thing to a best friend your entire life.

Having been your lady in waiting since you had turned thirteen, your mother was the one to claim it was of the utmost importance to have at least one of your ladies be relatively close to your age. You two bonded almost immediately and hadn’t spent a day apart since.

Once she had become of age, she took over as your main lady and began training the others as they came and went. She was the only one accompanying you on this new journey to which you were eternally grateful for.

She was giving up everything to go with you. Leaving her family, friends, her entire life. Claiming she would never let you depart on your own. It had been a relief despite the guilt that pummeled you whenever you thought about it too much. Tamsyn placated your worries, stating this was her duty and she was proud to be your lady, but most importantly your friend and confidant.

The wedding wasn’t for hours, supposed to occur later that evening, but the most important part of the day was about to occur. Trailing behind your mother, father, and brother, you entered the drawing room, attempting to steady your breathing.

Chatter that filled the room stilled as you four entered. Eyes quickly scanning the figures, you saw a group of men, possibly five or six First Order generals and officials standing on the opposite side of the room in their uniforms.

The man in front was older, but unlike his comrades had a small smile on his features. “King Erix, Queen Gaia, Prince Azra, what a pleasure to see you all once more and on such a happy day, yes?”

Your father spoke up first. “General Waylan, how wonderful to see you. I believe I speak for our entire planet as well as the galaxy when I say the pleasure is all ours.” Not able to see him any longer as you stood, anxiously awaiting your acknowledgement, you tried to still the shake in your hands.

Hearing a clap, who you now knew as General Waylan spoke. “Well, wonderful then. May we see the princess?” Just as you had all practiced for hours the night before, your parents parted, giving you enough space to step forward.

A small smile gracing your lips as your chin tilted ever so slightly up. General Waylan was entirely white, his beard and hair matching, but perfectly trimmed. His gray suit was fitted to him perfectly. Despite being in what you assumed was his sixties, his skin had few wrinkles. The only give away being the crows feet around his eyes. His dark blue eyes bordered on gray. Quite a handsome man.

His hands enclosed around one of yours as he gave a bright smile. “Princess, what a pleasure to finally meet you. Your family was quite right about your beauty. We are overjoyed to welcome you to the First Order. General Raj, if you would please?” He released your hands, your smile never faltering as the man he addressed made a quick walk around you entirely.

A small nod in General Waylan’s direction and his smile grew once more. “Fantastic! We shall see you all in the hall this evening for the union of the princess and Supreme Leader.” An audible breath of relief escaped your mother as the First Order officials filed out of the room.

Unlike Waylan, the others never showed an ounce of emotion. Not in their eyes, faces stoic, entirely motionless. It sent a chill down your spine. Turning, your father was beaming. He pulled you into a small embrace. “You did wonderful, dove. Now, you need to go get prepared for this evening. Azra and I have paperwork to attend to in regards to the wedding. Your mother will go with you, I assume?”

She quickly nodded in response. “Yes, we do not have nearly enough time to get you fully ready.” You eyed her. “What do you mean? Don’t I just have to change?” She laughed loudly at you, before pushing you towards the door.

“If only, dear. If only.”

If anyone understood the importance of this union, it was you. For star's sake, you had studied diplomatic alliances and treaties the entirety of your education. It was the area you were most well versed in which is why you were selected in the first place.

What you did not understand was why this had to be so massive of a production. The halls were overflowing with workers hustling around trying to ensure everything was perfect. Your mother was swept away every opportunity they could grab her. You weren’t sure you had seen anyone for longer than ten minutes the entire day.

With the clock ticking closer and closer, your chamber doors burst open. There stood the event coordinators. One from Bar’leth and one from the Order. Both out of breath and visibly nervous. Your mother eyed them expectantly. When neither spoke up, your mothers irritation peaked.

“What is the matter? Why do you burst into the chambers in such a way?” They exchanged a nervous glance before your coordinator spoke up. “We-we have news Your Highness.” Eyes narrowing in their direction, you hissed as another pin entered your hair and scraped your scalp.

The Order’s planner clutched their data pad closer to their chest. “The Supreme Leader arrived only minutes ago and upon his arrival there has been a change of plans.” Worry filled the room, bordering on panic. “He has requested a private ceremony with no one in attendance apart from the royal family and the Order’s officials.”

Confusion filled you and you spoke up before your mother had the chance, turning in your seat to fully face them. “That’s preposterous. The entire purpose of this is to be done publicly with the people in attendance. Why would he want a private ceremony? Will he attend the celebration following the ceremony?”

Another nervous glance shared, a shifting of feet, causing your jaw to set. “It is unclear at this time, princess.” Whipping around to look at your mother, you could tell she was unsure how to proceed, but in only a second she snapped out of it.

“No bother. If that is what the Supreme Leader has requested then we will be compliant. We can only hope he chooses to attend the celebration.” Shaking your head and going to speak again, she shot you a look of warning, telling you to keep your mouth shut.

Facing back towards the vanity mirror, you sat in angry silence as they finished getting you ready for your wedding. It was the oddest thing you had ever experienced. You did not walk down the aisle, only ushered in by your father from a side door that you didn't even know was in the grand hall.

The pews that were supposed to be filled by hundreds of people, sat empty, but decorated nonetheless. Eyes closing momentarily, you breathed in the sickly sweet scent of the thousands of florals that overflowed in the room. Only the first two pews were taken. One by your family, the other by the First Order. Your soon to be husband not there at all.

Unsure of what you were supposed to be doing, you looked to your mother for guidance, but she seemed as perplexed by this just as much as yourself. Shifting awkwardly to the side, the officiant finally looked up to see you had entered the room.

Standing there, he smiled warmly at you, beckoning you over. It was eerily silent, no music, no chatter, nothing. It was roughly five minutes drenched in the quiet before a sound finally happened. When the doors opened at the end of the hall, it caused you to jump in surprise. A large man stalked forward at a hurried pace to reach where you stood.

As he grew closer, the larger he became. Dressed in all black, his garb was floor length, long sleeved, a belt in the middle, boots, gloves, and oddly a helmet with a cowl draped over it. Not a word was spoken as he stood next to you, grabbing the pen that sat on the tabletop next to the certificate, signing it.

Not sparing a glance in your direction, he turned and left just as quickly as he had appeared. No vows exchanged, no first kiss, nothing. Not a sliver of skin visible on him. Entirely hidden by his clothing choice. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but this was far from any possibility that crossed your mind.

Nervous and unsure of what to do next, you turned and looked at your parents. Father making a signature motion, your trembling hand picked up the same pen, signing your name and looking at the officiant. “Congratulations, you are officially married.”

Brow furrowing, you spoke up for the first time. “No vows?” He shook his head, that stupid faux smile still on his oddly thin lips. “No, vows do not need to be exchanged for this to still be a legally binding service. Again, I offer my sincerest congratulations.” With that, he stepped off the altar and walked from the room.

In a single blink, you turned around and looked at the nine attendees, but what you were not expecting was what happened next. “Congratulations, Empress.” Your father spoke, leading the others in a bow of respect to you. Your mouth went dry, throat closing, hands bunching into fists.

You had just become Empress of the First Order by way of marriage and you hadn’t uttered a single word the entire time. What you had missed was the simple black band sitting on the table that your mother grabbed and placed in your palm.

“What is this?” You inquired, feeling the cool object against your skin. “That is your wedding band.” General Waylan chimed in, a smile still in place on his features. A small oh escaped you, slipping the band on your finger yourself, an instantaneous weight dropped onto your shoulders.

Still holding to the tradition of your people, in an hour after the ceremony had transpired, or whatever that had been, you two were to step out onto the palace’s front balcony and greet the citizens who were thrilled about the union.

The room was buzzing with excitement, everyone getting in the correct order for which they were to file out. Standing next to the massive man, you didn’t look at him, your meek voice hardly audible. “I must take your arm.”

He visibly stiffened. As the announcement was made to the gathered crowd, he had yet to offer his arm for you. The double doors opened and the group began moving forward. You spoke again, more hurried and snippy than before. “I must take your arm.”

His elbow popped from his side begrudgingly.

A deep breath expanded your lungs as you slipped your arm through his, the First Order officials the first to step onto the balcony, your family following, and lastly the newly betrothed couple.

He was hard as a rock as your hand rested on his forearm. The fabric surprisingly cool and smooth under your fingers. Standing as close as you were, the smell of leather and a soap of some sort, filled your senses. It was only audible from the close proximity, but small breaths were picked up by the modulator in the mask. Obviously, his jaw was clenched and forcing air through his nose.

Your mind began to run with thoughts of him. Why was he dressed in such a way? Why does he choose to not show any skin? Does he have undisclosed injuries? Perhaps he’s horribly malformed. You were also betting he was well into his later fifties, possibly around your fathers age. Wonderful. Your new husband was an old man, with extreme deformities, and horribly rude manners. Jackpot.

Unwavering from his tight stance while still extremely rigid he led you out.

Forcing as large of a smile as you could, you graciously waved to the cheering people below. Easily thousands had gathered in the square to set eyes on you both for the first time as a pair united by marriage. The first front of harmony and peace being presented to the galaxy then and there.

The officials and your family turned towards you both, clapping and cheering for the newly wed couple. Continuing with the facade for show, you tilted your head back in his direction and offered as genuine of a sincere smile as you could. Watching as his mask tilted in your direction, you knew in there, you were maintaining eye contact with him.

You were the first to break it, turning back to the adoring civilians' cheers and chants, continuing to wave. His helmet did not turn back towards them, still eyeing you. Twitching ever so slightly, a sharp pain hit the front of your forehead. Indication of a massive headache impeding, you tried your best to ignore it.

It was quick after that, him refusing to stand there for longer than a few minutes, but as soon as you were back inside, you withdrew your arm as he dropped his away from you and stalked off.

Once the doors shut behind your family returning inside, General Raj began rattling off instructions. It was hard to focus, happy you had others there to fully listen to them as your mind was elsewhere. Where in the world could he be running off to?

There was still a massive celebration planned for that evening that you two needed to be in attendance for. Or so you thought, anyways. It’s how it had always been done. Was he embarrassed to be seen with you? If anything, you could have done much better than him! There were king’s, prince’s, elected officials lined up around the galaxy that would have loved a chance with you.

Instead, you got a black mass of a being as your husband. Betting on him being a vile creature of some sort instead of the handsome dreamy prince you had always envisioned as your husband. What bullshit.

General Raj gathered your attention back to him. He understood that you hadn’t been listening to a single word he had uttered in the last two minutes, so he kept it simple.

“Empress, you are to be on your shuttle within the next hour. Your belongings are already packed and the final items are being loaded now and will be in transport to the residence momentarily. Welcome to the First Order.” Shaking your head, you stopped him before he could leave. “No, what about the celebration?”

Facing you once more, irritation was present on his face. Knowing he had given you the explanation of that just before, you didn’t care that you were making him repeat it. After all, you were his boss now. “The Supreme Leader has stated he will not be in attendance and requested you be on your way to the Supremacy as soon as possible.” He bowed before turning and following in the direction of where the others had just gone.

Turning to your mother, her face couldn’t mask the pain and disappointment. “It's alright, dove. I’m sure they are going to have a massive event upon your arrival. Now, come on, we need to get you ready to go.” You knew there would be no event waiting for you.

Hustling back to your room, you wanted nothing more than to get out of this dress, and wait for this wretched day to be over. Fighting back tears as you practically ran to your room, when you arrived you saw it stripped down to nearly the bare bones. Everything was gone.

All of your memories from childhood and your time spent on the planet you loved most had disappeared in just the few hours you had been gone. Your garments to change into were laid out on your bedding, Tamsyn turning to see you flustered as she went over the list she had in her hands for the last time.

“Dove?” Immediately throwing yourself into her grasp, she hugged you tightly as you sobbed. Everything as you knew it was over and done with. A new life starting from the ground up was waiting for you on a far off ship you had never heard of just fifteen minutes prior. Some stranger who was now your husband refused to even speak to you.

She soothed you, wiping at your tear stained cheeks. “Alright, enough of that. Let’s get you changed, come on, you can tell me all about it on the way.” Refusing to wait until you were on your transport, you recounted the “wedding” to her. You watched as her face twisted every now and then, opting to bite her tongue so as to not make things worse, but you could tell even she was taken aback by how brazen it all had been.

She stated how shocking it was when a random general entered your quarters and demanded it all be packed within the hour. Everyone assumed you would at least stay long enough to enjoy the celebrations, but no.

Here you were being ushered out of the only place you had called home, unsure when or if you would ever see it again. Only having a brief moment to mutter goodbyes to your family, you could see the worry evident in your mothers eyes.

“Ensure you’ll let me know of your arrival, okay?” Smiling as she cupped your cheeks, you agreed. “Yes, mother.” She nodded, still refusing to let you go. “I love you. I am just a transport away if you need me. I plan to visit soon so I expect private quarters, am I understood?” As she was tugging you into a hug, your brother spoke up. “Mother, she is the Empress of the Order. Let her go and do not give her orders.”

It was a wet laugh that escaped her throat, but as you stepped back, they all made their courteous bows to you. Your father and brother not offering any more than that interaction. Once in the shuttle, you watched as your father placed his arm around your mothers shoulders, seeing her hands clasped tightly against her chest, tears made tracks on her cheeks as she waved.

The shuttle took off, leaving the palace in a hurried blur, it grew smaller and smaller as you went further and further from your home. Former home. You weren’t sure if you would ever be able to think of another place as home.

Home was Bar’leth. Where you attended primary school and painted in the university’s courtyards as a child. Where it was common for the galleries and museums to be open late for those to wander through at their own discretion. Where creativity blossomed and those who came here left as a better version of themselves.

Nowhere else could ever be home.

From what you had learned about the Supremacy you weren’t sure how to feel about it. The largest ship you had ever heard of, floating in the middle of space, a population only consisting of First Order employees you did not know what to expect.

In all honesty, when you tried to research the history and relevance of said ship, there was little to no information. The Order doing a sound job of keeping the information as locked down as possible. Which you understood, it was a massive security issue. The Supreme Leader resided there mostly, or so you hoped, and their top ranking generals and officials. As well as being home to the largest base for them. Now, their Empress was going to be calling this distant thing her home.

Empress.

A title you weren’t sure what to do with. The significance of it still uncertain. At least until the Supreme Leader made up his mind. He did not frighten you like how most others claimed they feared him. For the time being, you had no sound reason to. You just hoped it remained that way.

Needing to occupy your time in the shuttle and then the ship ride to the Supremacy, you began going through the various documents that had been given to you. Some background information on the expectations placed upon you as well as some knowledge of what you were getting yourself into.

Tamsyn was in contact with the workers setting up the residence, ensuring everything was going to be nothing short of perfect for your arrival. While you were relieved to know that it was going to be a two day trip to get to your destination, you knew it was there waiting for you.

Would he be?

Your thoughts, despite how much you were trying to deter these thoughts, were riddled with him. Never having heard of a ceremony allowed to be legally binding without at least both parties saying ‘I do’, your sadness was dissipating. What was left in its wake was anger. In all honesty, you felt incredibly disrespected.

This had been a day you hoped would be filled with light and love. Not only did you have no idea who he was, what he looked like, or even sounded like, you were robbed of that. Of having a romantic ceremony followed by an evening of fun celebration. He had ruined that.

Simply because he was too high and mighty to indulge in such activities. That was one thing you had never heard about him. Seeing him at any public outing for the Order. Suppose, that is why you were married to him in the first place. Someone else of significant standing being in attendance, if not being the one to host, such things.

No longer were the people frustrated by his lack of appearance, but now overjoyed because you were going to be there. Oh, joy. What a self-centered, prick! While spending all of your time stewing in anger, Tamsyn watched from afar as you continuously shook your head in silence, jaw grinding teeth together, unsure what was going through your mind.

Although, she had a fairly good idea.

Five meals had come and gone during your journey, and before you knew it you had reached the unknown location of the ship. Tamsyn immediately placed a large coat over your shoulders, letting you know it was going to be brisk.

It had your jaw dropping as you docked inside of the ship. The hanger being one of the largest you had ever set eyes on. An entire fleet of ships and then some were sitting and waiting for use. How much did something like this even cost to construct? Let alone keep staffed?

Every so often one would depart or another would land. Hundreds if not thousands of troopers, workers, anyone you could think of shuffled through the area. Some were doing maintenance on the ships, others trying to get to another area, your head was on a constant swivel as you followed Tamsyn to wherever she was leading you.

Not a single person paid you any mind. It was hard to mask the disappointment bubbling within you. Any hopes of a celebration were squashed immediately. It had been like any other day. The only difference being you were now permanently tied to that wretched man.

It was loud in the hangar, but as soon as you left the area, the noise died down significantly. Did they do some kind of sound modification to make that happen? Quite impressive, you thought to yourself.

You knew you were going to have to be accompanied by someone at all times in order to figure out the floor plan of this place. Far too many turns and doors to go through, you had lost count after the third turn and fifth blaster door.

Arriving after an almost forty minute walk, there stood massive double doors to greet you. A happy face waiting for you as well. “General Waylan, thank you for taking the time to personally seek me out for my arrival.” You stated with a smile, accepting his outstretched hand.

“Of course, Empress. I wanted to be here to give you the tour of your residence aboard the Supremacy. I hope it will be to your standard. Alas, a bit different from what you are used to, but I think you will adjust quickly.” Offering instructions on the scans that needed to be done for security measures, the doors rescinded into the walls with a loud rush of air.

You would never get used to that. Honestly, it was dangerous. If your hand had been even just a millimeter from the indentation where the doors rescinded into the wall, your fingers would be cut clean off. You shuddered at the thought.

Inside, sleek black floors that were polished immaculately shined so well you could see your own reflection. Directly ahead of you was a large living space equipped with a plush couch. To your left, a massive kitchen, a man standing in it with another smaller woman next to him.

“Empress, may I introduce you to your cook and his assistant. They will be preparing all of your meals. An extra security measure taken by the Order to ensure your safety.” A quick hello was all you managed, truly taken aback by how large this residence was. Multiple hallways breaking off in every direction from the main space.

Not expecting something so expansive, you were almost certain it was larger than your home palace. A private dining hall, many refresher rooms, main chambers, guest chambers, every time you turned a corner there was another room. By the time you had finished, you knew the only rooms that would ever get used were your private office and your personal chambers.

What you did not notice was anyone else's belongings in the home. “General?” He turned at your address, smiling widely. “Yes, Empress?” Still looking around to see if perhaps you had missed something, you finally asked. “Where does the Supreme Leader reside?”

His brow furrowed. “Beg your pardon?” Waving your hand around at the open rooms. “Which of these does he reside in?” A small chuckle fell under his breath. “I apologize, Empress. I believe you misunderstood. This is your residence. Solely yours.”

Turning and looking at Tamsyn, her face mirrored yours. “He does not reside here?” He shook his head. “No. His own residence is on the other side of the ship, closer to the hangar.” Feeling irritation bubbling within you, your jaw clicked.

“Let me be clear on this. The Supreme Leader, who is my husband, is to live apart from me? Permanently?” He nodded, confirming your asks. Turning to look at Tamsyn again, her face did nothing to hide her emotion. “I do not understand, General. How will this work?”

He sighed, ushering you towards the couch to sit for a moment. “Supreme Leader Ren has made his intentions clear. He expects you two to live entirely separate lives, Empress. Only a facade for the galaxy, otherwise duties are separate. They do not coincide hardly ever. We apologize that this was not made clear beforehand, but that is his wish. We must follow Kylo’s demands.”

It was the first time you had heard someone use his actual name since the first mention of him all those weeks ago. Kylo Ren. A bitter taste landing on your tongue by just thinking about saying it.

“Now, you are expected to report for your duties the day after tomorrow. You will be explained about your role by an official on that morning. You will also meet your personal assistant then as well. In the meantime, please get adjusted. Everyone is thrilled you are here and we want to make you feel welcome. If you need anything, please, let me know.” He departed right after.

What a lie. Everyone was not thrilled you were there. No one even knew who you were! It was obvious that many of the First Order’s people had no indication that this marriage had even taken place.

Only having a moment to catch your breath, the door opened once more and in walked Tamsyn with two other women with her. When had she even left? “Empress, I am pleased to introduce you to your ladies in waiting. On my left is Calista and on my right is Layana. They will of course be reporting to me and I to you.”

Standing and smiling at the two ladies, you greeted them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Calista and Layana. Tamsyn has been my lady in waiting since I was only thirteen. I trust we’ll all get along just fine. Thank you.” They said nothing as they bowed and hurried off towards your room.

Eyes going wide, you collapsed back down on your couch. “I don’t like this, Tam.” She sat next to you, propping her feet up as well. “It’s weird, right? Him living apart from me? No one knowing I was arriving? Us having no interactions? ” Shrugging, she rested her hands on her stomach.

“I don’t know. I think it’s pretty normal for most arranged marriages, you know? Your parents were not the normal standard. They were lucky, getting to choose like they did.” You sighed, eyes closing tightly.

Head turning towards your room, you pouted at her. “Can you get a fire going for me? It’s so cold in here.” She stood, immediately going to your room and getting it prepared for the night. As you had been touring the residence, you noticed her wandering eyes, ensuring your belongings were exactly where she had instructed them to be.

Denying dinner as you did not have an appetite, you were ready for bed quicker than normal. Everything was there. Anything and everything you owned had been placed in the quarters exactly like how you had them back at your previous residence.

Homesick.

That was the best word to describe how you were feeling. Wanting nothing more than to return back there and get into the bed you had slept in for years, with the same people around you that you knew like the back of your hand, on the same planet that had been your home your entire existence.

Instead, you were in an unknown place. On a ship you couldn’t begin to fathom the size of, surrounded by people you had never seen or knew of your own existence or purpose, in a bed that was foreign to you, staring out the massive window at some distant stars, wondering where your husband was.

This was not home. It would never be home.

You had always dreamed of your wedding day. Wearing the perfect gown, having had a picture perfect ceremony, followed by an evening full of laughter and love. Having said your beautiful vows to the person you loved most. Looking forward to spending the rest of your life with them by your side.

What did that even look like? A fairytale life where you slept next to them every night, talking and laughing about fond times shared. Thinking about what your respective tasks looked like the following day. Possibly thinking about children in the near future. The picture perfect life.

Yet, here you laid, entirely alone, having no one to talk to until you fell asleep. No one to wake up next to and be happy that their face was the first one you saw every day. Alone. You had never felt so alone. Hot tears escaped your eyes, hand landing over your mouth to stifle your sobs.

You were living a nightmare.

#ficthots #kylo ren #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x y/n #kylo x reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo smut #kylo ren smut #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine

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anneangel · 1 month ago

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I still don't know how to deal with everything that's happening, but, for the fans, I wanted to digress about the conclusions I've reached so far!

I do not intend to say here what each person should do in light of the facts, I will simply explain how, in my opinion, this works FOR ME. This is only my opinion and anyone can disagree, as long as you are polite when arguing against it.

About what Good Omens means to me:

An angel and a demon who join forces to prevent the apocalypse because they believe that the Earth is worth living just the way it is.

Good Omens talks about good, evil, morality, destiny, free will and providence. It emphasizes the importance of unity in times of crisis, turmoil and chaos. It celebrates differences as something positive and is based on the idea that diversity should unite us instead of pitting us against each other. The plot proves that sometimes we find friendship, help, support and companionship in the most unlikely people. It emphasizes that “the right thing” is no longer “the right thing” if it is done for the wrong reasons and through the wrong means, showing that appearances can be deceiving and that sometimes evil disguises itself as good (and vice versa), After all, it teaches that no such as someone inherently good or bad/evil, only people who are sometimes good and sometimes bad/evil. A plot that teaches us how we should do what is best for the world and for ALL the people who live in it, even if they move heaven and all nine circles of hell against us, after all, wrong does not become right just because the majority believes it is. Good Omens is all of this together in a comical and satirical plot that states: no matter how much it seems that we are trapped by some destiny, what really moves us are our own decisions, choices and actions outlined by our free will. And if in the end everything we do or fail to do is part of some divine design or not, that is ineffable and it is not up to us to know, only to contemplate.

Good Omens, as a work, will always continue to evoke these meaningful messages for me.

What I think now that I've heard about the allegations against NG:

Now that I have discovered that one of the authors of this book is a predator and abuser who has been accused of unspeakable crimes, I am trying to deal with the shock: terrible people can produce beautiful works, they can create a story full of morals that they themselves do not possess.

About the oficial work:

I thought about getting rid of the work, but after deliberate reflection, I decided not to do so. Why?

I have noticed movements to "deny" reality or "dissociate" oneself from it.

Regarding denial, is simple: I cannot deny it. The truth is that I unfortunately bought the work of a human being who, in his private life, did horrible things. Getting rid of 'the book' and 'the show' now does not erase that reality.

Regarding dissociation, erasing the author's name from the book and "pretending" that he was not the one who wrote it, in whole or in part, is a form of dissociation, in my opinion. Erasing his name does not change the reality: he wrote something that I love very much. That is the reality, whether I like it or not.

What I can do now is reflect. So, no, I didn't throw the book away, nor did I erase his name. Want to do something useful? Just circle his name in the book and in the show and write:

"accused of sexual violence by multiple victims";

(1) How can I effectively help the victims?

(2) How do I feel about having, for a period of my life, enjoyed a work that I now know was created by someone abusive?

(3) Do I intend to acquire more of the author's stuff? If the answer is "yes", don't forget that this is a profit for him.

Yes, if you are one of the fans who removed his name, I UNDERSTAND YOU. I also want to remove his name from wherever it is stamped with a knife. However, we must remember that just "erasing" his name is not enough, erasing his name does not exempt us from continuing to actively fight so that the victims see justice and that he no longer profits with Good Omens.

I believe that having these issues is much better than simple denial (getting rid of the book and show) or dissociation (erasing his name). Because every time I open the book, or if someone else need it from me, we will be confronted with (a) the reality of the facts, (b) how we feel about it now, and (c) what we can actually do about it!

Besides, the answer to each of these questions is TOTALLY personal to each person. It's not like it would be polite to force a fan to answer these questions online.

About work made by fans and the existence of fandom:

I believe that art is plural, multifaceted and transformative, so that (even if the fandom hates the author), the art continues to live on through what fans do with it and the way they reinvent the work and their love for it, inside or outside fandom spaces. And this is not something that anyone can prevent, history has already shown that authors go/die, but the work remains and changes through what the public makes of it.

I believe that Fandom has already become aware of the facts, that they have already disowned the author, that the majority has already reached a consensus not to buy anything new or official from now on, and that the art they make as fans is theirs for other fans, just to warm the hearts of other fans, but in no way aims to promote or finance the author.

It turns out that, as a fan, I feel much more like a 'hostage' to the positive feelings I have towards the work created by a vile person. So I don't see Fanarts or FanFictions as marketing for the author, but primarily as people who, like me, used this work as escapism and have much affection for it, and now we can't get rid of that feeling.

If you believe that I'm horrible for feeling this way, I'm sorry, but the truth is that I feel this away and I can't change that now just to satisfy you.

The allegations will continue to exist, as will the fandom. That's the reality, one thing doesn't cancel out the other, whether we like it or not.

You can't just pretend, deny or dissociate, and say no about it. What we can do is continue to reflect:

This is not a matter of erasing the author and the work from existence, the things that we tend to "pretend no longer exist" always come back even worse, sooner or later. So it's not a matter of pretending that the author is "dead" and that his works "were buried with him".

Whether I like it or not, his work is in the world, will be available in the world, and will continue to live in the minds of thousands of fans around the world (whether they are in fandom online places or not), despite the author not being a "model human being" and still being alive. So,

(4) how are we going to treat the author from now on in light of the allegations?

(5) what are we going to transform his work into now? What does it mean and represent from now for the world and for ourselves as fans of this work?

For ME, this type of reflection is much more useful than intimidating fans into destroying the work and/or never talking about it again.

As for still liking content created by fans for fans (FanFictions, Fanarts, FanVideos, FanEdits, FanComics, Cosplayers, FanAnimatics, etc.), it's crazy because, yes, it's fiction, it doesn't exist, the characters aren't real. I know that.

But the feelings I have towards this fiction are real. The story isn't real, but the laughs and tears I've had towards this fiction are. The people I met on Fandom continue to be good and welcoming people. And the works made by fans for fans continue to be beautiful and continue to gain their own meaning through the creative minds of fans who reinvent the work every day.

Entering into denial or dissociation towards reality doesn't change that reality.

The reality is: Unfortunately, for a time in my life, I developed an affection for a work, characters, fandom and universe, written by a horrible person. And now I'm in a middle space of "sincere nostalgia for the work (and fandom) and what it means to me" and "deliberate contempt due to the abusive person who create it". That's the truth. There's no way I can pretend otherwise. I'm sorry if that disappoints you!

If you think that the fact that I can't "automatically turn off the love I have for the work" is a flaw. That's fine, it's your opinion, I'm not going to try to change your opinion.

But keep in mind that I'm not perfect, I've never been perfect, I'm not trying to be perfect (because no one is), and I'm not going to try to appear perfect just to get in someone's good graces.

If you think you're a perfect human and better than me, ok.

About who should we attribute to blame for everything that is happening:

As a fan of the work (Good Omens fan), I don't feel guilty for any crimes the author committed, for the simple fact that I wasn't there and didn't connive at anything. It's not the fans' fault if the author is a piece of shit in his private life.

I didn't commit any crime, I just consumed a product he created (And I consumed the work before I knew about these allegations).

I have nothing to do with what he did wrong in his private life or how he used the money that comes from his fame. What he does in his private life and with the money from his work is his problem and his conscience, he must answer in court for the allegations.

I'm pretty sure I'm not responsible for his shit and fault. I don't answer for him and his acts. No one can penalize me, and other fans in general, for the crimes committed by the author.

People trying to oppress fans of the work for something the author did doesn't make any sense. This seems to me more like a pointless offensive attitude. But attacking one or another fan doesn't change anything in the grand scheme of things.

If you want to attack someone, perhaps it would be smarter to attack the author, or the companies that still support and finance him, or the publishers that still publish him, or even the 'influencers' and the media that are making money and audiences through this situation involving the author. Many are approaching the situation in a sensationalist way and in order to generate an audience and money, only (this is happening inside and outside English-speaking countries), and that is horrible.

It's not fair that the target of hate is the fans. The fans, who didn't know anything, didn't agree with anything, aren't complicit in anything, nor colluding with anything wrong that he has done secretly in his private life. So why is the fans who are punished? This doesn't make sense and it's not fair.

The point is that whoever makes the crime must pay and be condemned for that crime. The penalty is individual, not collective. So if he did something wrong in his private life, he must answer for it individually and in proportion to the crime committed.

However, unfortunately, there are people here who are trying to screw with my psychology by trying to make me think that I am guilty of something! And that's not true. That's not right! This is cruelty!

Should fans disappear from fandom spaces out of respect for the victims?

Well. In my opinion, Fandom spaces are still a space for dialogue and dissemination of information and taking action. As bad as it may seem, it's still better that people are here arguing with each other about what they're going to do in relation to the work, the author, in relation to the allegations and the work' fandoms.

The saddest thing isn't the debate in fandom spaces, the saddest thing is not having that space.

I can tell you that there are thousands of people still buying his original and official works without even knowing about the allegations, for the simple fact that not all fans like to participate in fandom spaces, and not all you even have access to the news (especially if they are not from English-speaking countries). Therefore, being in a fandom space is still more useful than not being part of one and being oblivious.

Treating fans/fandom as an enemy does not help the cause. I've said it before, art continues, even though its authors dead: history has already shown us this. So it's not something that people can fight against, you can't stop the fandom from existing.

So instead of trying to oppress fans and demand that they leave fandom spaces (which is unlikely to happen, even if they left Tumblr we would still organize on another platform), then perhaps it would be better to advise them that, If the fandom is not going to 'die', then at least help to not let the allegations against the author remain 'in the past'. Let them keep the tag against him 'alive'. You understands?

It is helpful if you help us come up with ideas that help the cause, rather than treating us as an enemy of it.

That said, do you have any practical ideas? Any ideas on how to help fans deal with this that are better than what has been done so far? Any ideas on how to help victims more effectively?

About the work also belonging to Terry Pratchett:

Whether I like it or not, although Neil Gaiman is truly a scoundrel, he has also produced good works that have perpetuated good things in the world. And, in the specific case of this book, he is not the only author.

Good Omens was written in conjunction with Terry Pratchett, an author who gave the work as a whole the tone of satire and humor that is so characteristic of him and is, and will always be, a writing style most commonly seen in the works of Pratchett, who died in 2015 of Alzheimer's. Therefore, remember that Good Omens is not only a book of Neil Gaiman's hoax, but also the result of multiple partnerships that made it the work it is, both in the literary universe and in adaptations.

The work is ours too, but in the sense that it is we, as the audience/public, who will decide what we are going to do with it and what meaning to give it. It is our responsibility to make the right decisions and actions to help people deal with and survive this situation, supporting the victims, and also supporting each other in whatever way we can.

#Anti-Neil Gaiman (don't buy anything from him anymore).

#Justice for the victims (Donate to victims of abuse).

#The fans deserved better (we deserved the person NG pretended to be, not the person that he is).

All that said, if you've made it this far, and if you don't agree with me (in whole or in part), remember to be kind. Be kind to each other!

#good omens #cw: neil gaiman #anti neil gaiman #inefabble husbands #good omens fandom #fandom things #fandom etiquette

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essektheylyss · 2 years ago

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There's something so fascinating about Karna versus Raphaniel's relationships to power, to influence, and to being known.

Neither of them up until this episode act out of their own power—Raphaniel acts in the name of the Bulb, and Karna under the guise of Jacque Crudite. Only after they have committed and been party to unspeakable acts do they act in their own names.

In doing so they also swap sensibilities. Karna has been brazen with magic usage but now, finding herself on her own, she leans primarily into subterfuge and subtlety, evidenced mechanically in her rogue levels. Raphaniel has been quiet about his activities, cloaking his true magical nature, but now, when his will is broken, he confronts the Sanctis Putris directly and is not so careful as to disguise his use of magic, which leads to further alienation from the institution that he had shrouded himself in for so long, even as he plots a holy civil war.

But they are still both seeking power and influence, Karna from mundane nobility, using the chaos of war to bolster her reach, and Raphaniel by seeking out the power he has become privy to at the center of the world.

And both of them, from what it seems, are taking innate power already from the Hungry One. We know thanks to a chocolate rabbit that the Bulb and the Hungry One are both merely energy sources, and their power does not discriminate between the devout and the faithless. But Karna, who is young, gives of herself, quite literally, in exchange for power, and Raphaniel turns from it, running to the shield of the church in spite of an absence of faith.

That also is twisted on its head by this point—Raphaniel, as Brennan says, is for once in his life completely devout, while Karna remarks that she is for the first time afraid to die. This comes after Raphaniel feels he has utterly lost any control to influence history, and Karna has gained significant influence.

But both of them, given their self-imposed quests—Raphaniel to rid the church of the Sanctis Putris and devotees of the Prophidian Heresy, and Karna to unite the Meatlands—are on paths that will guide history for at least two decades. We know that both of these quests are borne out, regardless of whether these characters survive to see it done: the Bulbian Church will come out of this war with an iron grip upon the continent, in part because of a consolidation of theology, and in part because of the way local religions are stamped out in favor of unity under a single idea—a single light.

All that remains is to be seen is whether the two of them both stay this course, or turn against the tide before the end. What will likely be true one way or another is that they will get what they have wished for: to influence from the shadows. Their names will not be known, but their contributions to history will consume Calorum for decades to come.

#i do feel it's not incidental that they're the youngest and oldest members of the party but i didn't have a good way to incorporate that 😔#but alas #d20 spoilers #trw spoilers #dimension 20 #the ravening war #karna solara #bishop raphaniel charlock #tbh them parting and the comment that their paths have diverged was a really underrated moment honestly. can we talk about that.

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anotherclassicpretence · 2 months ago

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TES Secret Santa

I got @aquicat ! The collection of characters you gave was very interesting, I chose two of them because they're in a strangely similar situation after their respective questlines.

I hope you enjoy it! It's a bit long, but I've taken your "no such thing as too overdone" to heart. Happy holidays!

Imperial victory.

The bards had already spun songs of it. The cruel, grasping Bear trampled by the courageous Wolf. Solitude ascendant. Unity prevailing.

The moot had gathered within days of Ulfric Stormcloak’s death. The Jagged Crown had been placed on Elisif’s head.

Not mine, she remembered thinking as the dragon bone had weighed down her brow. The head of Torygg’s widow. They didn't let her forget that– and she didn't wish to. That was all that remained of him.

What of it? Even that had been lauded. She had become the lone Wolf– fierce in her grief. Everything was a sign of legitimacy.

Everything but her own thoughts. Everything but the frowns when she tried to speak to the people she now ruled.

The High Queen's retinue had settled into Winterhold, the third stop in their tour of the province.

Not province. Say “holds”. Say “Skyrim”. She remembered her steward's corrections to the proposed announcement. “We must not forget what tore us in half.”

He was right, of course; as he always was. And as always, she would never have noticed the point.

It was difficult to breathe. The rooms in Winterhold were stuffy– lined with hay, built at sharp angles, well-suited to shelter from the cold winds blowing outside. But she wasn't used to them.

The council with her courtiers had been stifling, as had the dinner, as did this room. She threw open the windows, feeling only relief as the snowy breeze stung her face. Taking a few gasping breaths, she sighed and let her gaze wander over the white, dilapidated scene.

The windows were long and wide, ready to let in sunlight whenever it shone. Yet, in the twilight, it only gave a bleaker view of the once-great city. The destruction the Great Collapse had wrought still lay visible, half-sunken houses and stables far outnumbering the ones still standing and lighted; and the battle fought for the city, just weeks ago, had added fresh stains onto the landscape.

It made her shudder-- what could her grand welcomes and dinners do to help all this? In Solitude, it had at least been familiar ground; here...

Stricken by a sudden impulse, she wrapped her woollen cloak around herself, and narrowing her eyes against the rising wind, ascertained how thickly the snow had blanketed the ground.

It was enough– with a silent, graceful jump, the High Queen of Skyrim leapt from the tall window and landed (rather less gracefully) on the accumulated snow.

The cold was not so bad after all– or perhaps it was just the rush of excitement. She giggled as she stood up, stamping her feet in glee as she walked away from the Longhouse.

Winterhold's guards were on duty, of course– but they weren't on the lookout for anyone leaving the Longhouse. She snuck around them, feeling a growing sense of freedom that threatened to burst out in a loud cry.

She half-ran to the road, wrapping her cloak closer to herself. The patrols paid her no mind– the cloak was a sturdy but simple one, hiding all her finery.

Looking around, she glanced at the massive statue of Azura, cut into the side of a mountain, built to appear most imposing at this very hour of the evening. The sun had all but set, yet the rays were brightest around that shrine, almost directly westward of Winterhold.

Elisif had decided, from the moment she gazed out of the window, not to restrain any impulse that day. An ardent wish seized her to visit the shrine, and she set off.

It was well that the recent war had brought increased guards on the road– heedless, the High Queen walked unaware of the many dangers that would have beset a lone traveler on that route.

Courage, for her, had been coping with her husband’s death. It had been living under the threat of Ulfric’s sword. She had braved that and more– but this is how most of us live, she realised dimly as she left the straight road and began the long climb to the statue. Unaware of the danger, perhaps, but not unwilling to face it.

The route to the shrine itself was unguarded. Elisif drew her enchanted dagger, hoping she would not have to use it. In one hand, she readied a Fireball– after her husband’s murder, Sybille Stentor, the unyielding and blunt court wizard of Haafingar, had given her many kind hours of private instruction.

Despite the threatening howls she heard, she reached the stairs at the base of Azura’s shrine unmolested– but just then, a pack of ice wolves set upon her.

She went numb with fear for a moment, seeing their wild eyes about to pounce– but instinctively threw a fireball at the leader.

There were three of them. Fighting them off would have been impossible– but just as the second bit her on the arm, a woman descended on them, crying out a prayer to Azura as a flurry of well-placed destruction spells routed the pack.

Elisif shuffled towards the stairs, catching her breath and looking gingerly at the wound on her arm. The woman– a Dunmer priestess– made short work of the wolves, and rushed to her side.

“Rest, traveller,” she advised. Making her lean onto a pillar, she used a Heal Other spell, giving Elisif a warm, almost comforting sensation as golden light stitched up her wound.

“Thank you.”

“It is a pleasure to help anyone who comes to pay respect to my Lady. Especially at dusk, though I fear you are a little late.”

Elisif racked her brains for a diplomatic answer– but she was tired. “I am not a worshipper of Azura. I have nothing against them, of course– but I only came to admire the shrine.”

“It is enough. It is more than most feel.”

They sat in silence, Elisif gazing with genuine wonder at the sheer scale of the statue. There she was– Azura, the lady of Dawn and Dusk, looking impassively over the vast mountainous expanse of Eastern Skyrim. Elisif had lived in Solitude all her life– all she knew of this Daedroth was what the priests at the Temple told her. But she was older now.

“Do you live here? Is it because you cannot practice your faith in the cities?”

The woman sighed reverentially. “I live here to be close to my Lady. Once, she blessed me with visions of the future, and saved many of us from the eruption that decimated Morrowind. Now, she has ceased those insights– but how does it matter? I have played my part in the grand design.”

“Why not leave, then?”

“She still cares for me– for all of us. She keeps me safe. My faith did not just depend on her favours. I can still feel the reverberations of her wisdom.”

“And what wisdom does she offer for grief?” Elisif heard herself asking, immediately scolding herself for it. It had been more than a year. It was unseemly to hold on to it.

“Grief is natural. Dawn always gives way to Dusk, but after the ensuing night Dawn returns. It will seem harsh to you, perhaps, but our ancestors remain with us after death. We do not mourn them, for they are happy, and continue to guide us. ”

“What if the one I lost did not follow her?”

“You are a Nord– so were they, I presume. Sovngarde will greet them. Now that the Dragonborn has rid us of Alduin, even the heavens rejoice. You need not worship her to know the truth of her teachings. You are alive, and must play your part.”

“I was always told the Daedra are evil,” Elisif said, almost smiling at the exhaustion that made her tongue flow so freely.

“It is not my concern what the world says, what divisions it draws. I have devoted my life to one who has never shown me anything but kindness. Azura has been a harsh mistress sometimes– but in her heart, she laughs and cries with her followers. In prayer– true prayer– I can feel her love. I would not trade it for anything in the world.”

“Tell me your name, priestess,” Elisif broke in, feeling a sudden rush of sympathy.

“I am Aranea Ienith,” she answered simply, showing none of the eager curiosity about her that Elisif was used to.

“Aranea, what would you do if all this love could no longer reach Azura? If her love could no longer warm you? And despite that, you had to carry on being her priestess– after all the meaning behind it was stripped away?”

“I have pledged my soul– once I die, she waits for me in Moonshadow. How would it matter if my love could not reach her today? She does not need it– and yet she values it. She values each voice that puts its faith in her. And that is my answer– my faith would keep me going. I will not forget the glimpses into her heart that I was blessed with. Her displeasure would horrify me– but her indifference is impossible. ”

She fell silent, a sorrow entering her eyes. “I grieve for my friends who once lived here, and left me for warmer hearths, and I grieve that Her voice– my only companion– has also deserted me. I leave the shrine much more than I used to. But I never doubt. It is not out of fear– I have confessed to her many times that being her priestess is difficult, and she has never refused me. Yes, it is difficult– but it is not a burden. Guiding others to that comfort, spreading her word– it will not lose its meaning. I have met many novice worshippers, each with their own stories. My faith is a force for good, these hands of mine can bring about the peace she wants her worshippers to have.”

Elisif pondered this for a while. “You speak of her much more… familiarly than we do of the Divines,” she said before she had entirely gathered her thoughts.

“It will seem strange to you, no doubt. But she is not a distant observer, content to let us interpret ancient scripture. She lives with the Dunmer. We can call on her, speak to her, love her as if she were here in the flesh. And one day, my flesh will be hers.”

“We must disagree, then,” Elisif replied in a friendly voice. “I prefer the stolidity of the Divines. But your devotion is admirable.”

“You are torn, I see, because you want your love to be separate from your duty,” Aranea said with a smile. “Why does it taint your love to have it guide you?”

“I was not meant to shoulder all this. Everyone knows it.”

“Everything happens for a reason. Night has fallen– we may know for certain that Dawn will come, but that does not mean we idle away. Our actions will bring it about.”

“Perhaps I can embrace that sentiment someday,” Elisif replied wistfully. “But I am not ungrateful. Much has happened this year to give us hope. Soon, the next will begin– and I will stay by myself, insulated.”

“I sense a strong spirit within you, and a brave one, to come here alone purely out of curiosity. What good is this shuttered love of yours, if it brings you to deathly stillness?”

“You do not know, Aranea,” Elisif shook her head.

“Azura’s foresight remains with me. I see your struggles. The war has ended– and you are not friendless. Many love you for yourself. And those who do it for another’s sake– are they not just like you?”

Elisif shivered. “It is cold here.”

“You cannot survive a night here. I will escort you to Winterhold.”

“It will not be necessary. Look, there are torches on the road below. They will find me.”

“Then I bid you farewell.”

“Do you need anything here? I ensured that Kraldar has lifted all the laws restricting the mages. You will have no difficulties with supplies, or with the College–”

“I am happy here. Azura gives me purpose.”

Elisif felt her solemn contentment, and it brought out her own playfulness.“And I am glad that my purpose permits me a softer bed.”

Aranea smiled broadly for the first time. “May all turn out well.”

“Thank you again. I will think about what you said.”

They stood in silence for a while, and as half of the search party broke off to approach the shrine, Aranea melted away into the darkness.

“Good morning, Falk.”

“Good morning, your Grace. I have managed to conceal last night’s adventure from the jarl…”

“I am sorry to burden you, steward, I will be mindful in the future. We leave for Windhelm today– what must I know?”

Falk Firebeard cleared his throat, pulling a tall stack of parchment towards himself. “We will greet the New Year there, as you know. I must advise her Grace not to attempt to speak to the courtiers directly–”

“Falk, surely I can speak with them if you accompany me?”

“Oh… certainly.”

“I understand. I will follow your lead. But I cannot do that forever.”

“No, your Grace. It is a good idea,” he said without his usual conciliatory tone. “Now as for the new jarl…”

#tes #tessecretsanta2024 #my writing #skyrim #I've been buried in work so haven't edited super well but I enjoyed writing this!#tesblr #TESSecretSanta2024

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wauzmons · 1 year ago

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Before all that drama around Unity happened, I started working on the nest system for aquatic stage and announced that you will be able to place your nests wherever you want.

I finally got to continue working on it! I created some kind of "stamps" which modify the terrain at runtime when placed, meanng you are able to drag a nest onto the terrain, just like you would drag body parts onto your creature!

Here is a rather extreme example. All these weird craters in the screenshot are modifications made to the terrain by the player! Maybe we can even make use of this system for other things than just nests. Digging holes? Space stage terraforming? Idk.

#elysian eclipse #spore #gamedev #indie games

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intoloopin-archive · 1 year ago

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AN INTERLUDE: IN UNITY.

TWS: A rapist and drugs are very briefly mentioned. The boys are fighting. And I believe that's all. characters (starring): Na Seungsoo. Woo Gyujin. word count: 2,457 words. time stamp: January 21th, 2024 (the day Dylan released his mixtape). author's note: not exactly super beated because I am literally dying! But anyways! Transitionary piece to get this plot going! Productivety! Hell yeah! *passes out*

January 21th.

Seungsoo doesn’t miss LOOPiN’s old dorm because he can’t miss it.

So every time he gets close to airing a complain about their current house, he instead makes a point to remember that their former two story apartment came straight out of Jiahang’s pockets, rented with a fraction of one of his many, many trust funds set by his millionaire parents for when he grew up and decided to go to college to study rare plants, or be a nepotistic model, or move to Monaco and do nothing forever. It becomes very easy to cultivate a vendetta against it that way.

But right now what Seungsoo can’t help but miss is having a bigger balcony, one that won’t cramp him when he tries to have a peaceful and quiet meltdown in his own goddamn home. There's a breeze hitting him right on the face while he’s staring at the goddamn sunset but he still feels suffocated. And he’s only sharing space with Taesong’s outside plants, their leaves a depressing shade of sick green, and Haegon’s brand new bike, which he only bought because he wasn't allowed to get a haircut after leaving Sunyoung for the nth time.

From behind him, Seungsoo hears the sound of the balcony’s door being quietly pushed open, and of a series of steps growing closer. The living room’s light has been turned on and it’s painting his body in yellow light.

“Haruki, look–” Seungsoo breathes, turning on his heels quickly, ready to raise his arms high in rendition.

Who he finds behind him is someone else, tough, someone worse – or maybe not. Haruki hates him now, romanticizes the living Hell out of Dylan now, so he would have certainly been way worse to look in the eyes now than Gyujin.

Gyujin who, with his brand new eyebrow piercing and wet hair from his one hour long shower, greets him with a smile then says, as if he’s queued to deliver a joke, “You wish.”

“Great,” Seungsoo mutters to himself, turning his back to him, getting back at supporting his elbows on the wall. For a second, he marvels at how nasty the fall would be if he jumped to the backyard. “Get out, Gyujin, seriously. I’m not in the mood.”

“Boo-hoo. I didn’t ask.”

With that, he comes close. He sits on the thick wall in the little space the plants give him, both hands holding on the concrete while he bends dangerously backwards, dangling his feet.

And Gyujin just stays there, barely moving and not talking, only whistling like a goddamn cartoon. In retaliation, Seungsoo frowns harder at the horizon and begins to fidget on his sleeping clothes, fingers anxious to hold onto something.

He never picked up on smoking and he kind of regrets it now, can’t remember the reason why. Maybe because he likes to smell like cologne too much, or because he hates the thought of being unable to kiss someone without it tasting bitter.

It takes a mere minute or so for him to break, because that’s what Seungsoo does best: he can’t hold back an impulse, can’t swallow a single word down. He needs a collar, he’s realized recently, a muzzle, and no one ever gets him one – no one ever gets him.

“That was just so damn childish,” He mutters through his teeth. “Releasing all the songs like that.”

“Oh?” Gyujin tilts his squared chin down. He’s almost looming over Seungsoo, with the way he’s set – taking him from up above, an angle Seungoo’s had a problem being perceived from ever since he was the youngest of his mother’s kids. “And unfollowing Chihoon on Instagram wasn't childish?”

“I don’t like when any of our private business gets exposed, no matter how vague. He knows that.”

“Didn’t you just make it more public now with your little show? Or do you really think no one will connect the two, that the timing isn’t obvious, that you aren’t raising tension?”

Seungsoo suppresses a little scream by pressing his knuckles hard against his lips.

“You didn’t think that far, did you? Tsk, you just never do,” Gyujin lets out a laugh. “So what is it, Seungsoo, really? Why did you do that? What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?!” Seungsoo breathes, straightening up quickly, viciously – he almost hits Gyujin on the forehead with his head by doing so. “What is wrong with you?! Do you really think it’s okay for him to make something like that and release it without checking with us first?! When it’s mostly about the team?! We’re not illiterate! We can understand all his goddamn English!”

“Hm. Little League’s mean, I never said it wasn’t,” Gyujin agrees, but his relaxed posture lets it clear to Seungsoo that he does so only partially, half heartedly, even – always so comfortable with the possibility of a fall, he thinks, eyeing his horrible posture. “It’s a mock song made to piss Haegon off, and it got the job done. He’s justified in everything he chose to do about it. I just don’t get why you’re so offended. Is it because Chihoon didn’t write about you?”

“Are you insane? It’s not about getting a song or not, or Dylan doing things on his own or not, I just don’t–” Seungsoo shakes his head, searching for the right words, any other words but–

“You don’t like remembering we’re not friends,” Gyujin completes – spot on like fucking always. “That he doesn’t feel like he owes us secrecy anymore.”

And to think there would be a time, not even so long ago, where Seungsoo would immediately jump to refute him, banging on his chest and saying with real pride, “We’re all friends! We’re all close!”

But saying it now would just make it sound like a blatant lie; a joke with an awful punchline. So he bites his tongue and goes back to being quiet.

“Na Seungsoo, I need you to listen to what I’ll say to you,” Gyujin tells him, his voice set on a tone deeper than his usual, making the full name ring off his mouth like an intimation. Ungrundly, Seungsoo listens. “You need to start processing the things you do before you do them.”

Seungsoo scoffs, forced and loud, and looks away from his face quickly – runs from the ice underneath his setting jaw.

“We have problems, alright? All great groups do,” Gyujin keeps up, bumping their shoulders together once, then not again; Seungsoo recoils more against the wall and lightly grates his arm all to escape his follow up attempt by a matter of millimeters. “Sometimes things get sour and they spill over, and that’s just how it is. You get around, you know I’m right. No one has it easy. Idolmaker is in the middle of a PR nightmare with all the Hosung freakout, we’ve been seeing it first hand, and you won’t find Gayoung or Jeonghun getting petty in public because it isn’t smart.”

“So what can I actually do, Gyujin, about our situation?” Seungsoo asks him. A spot on his jaw is hurting from how hard he’s clenching it.

Gyujin gives him that awful, awful look of his that always tells him ‘You’re an idiot’. “Seungsoo, please. Dylan’s vent album is not a situation–”

“C’mon, Gyujin, I know it’s not!” Seungsoo says, too close to yelling. “And I know your little speech isn’t really about the goddamn unfollow! It’s you trying to get inside my head and control how I’ll act now that I know the group’s ending!”

The words make Gyujin pause. He almost fully freezes. It’s all the confirmation Seungsoo needs, the mute answer to the question that’s been eating him alive since Christmas.

“You’ve heard the fucking rumors, you– Gyujin, you know! I know you know! The March shareholder’s meeting has been canceled, Minwoo hasn’t sat down to write a real song since October, and Jiahang’s fucking dad called him back to China last month. For what?! He’s backing out, isn’t he?! He’s selling his shares because New Wave is dying. They’re going to debut the girls and just– fate out with us in it!”

Gyujin takes a defeated breath. Finally, he makes his way down the wall. “Sony hyung–”

“Don’t you Sony hyung me, man!” Seungsoo exclaims, angling his head up to fully face Gyujin, round eyes on round eyes. “Look, I know I talk even when I shouldn’t, I know my brain is goddamn slow, that it makes me do stupid shit, but why is everyone keeping things from me now?! I’m a producer too, aren’t I?! I’m a part of LOOPiN just as much as everyone, maybe even more than some people we got! Isolating me is fucked!”

“No one is isolating you, Seungsoo. Things are just complicated when it comes to giving you confidential information,” Gyujin counters, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His voice is again different, hitting at him cutting and terminal. It infuriates Seungsoo more. “And you know why that is. You put yourself in a hard position. Face it: you broke the trust. This is your own doing.”

Seungsoo’s mouth hangs open, stays open. “I broke the– what?! Why?! Because I pushed Jiahang once when he was about to do cocaine off an Inkigayo sink?! Because I took Dylan with me to haunt down a serial rapist?! I don’t regret any of those things, and I never will!”

“Was that all you did, really? Because the way I see it, the way it came across for everyone, was you going all vigilante over the members' private business,” Gyujin stresses. “And what good did any of these things do for anyone? You almost costed Jiahang his eye, Seungsoo. You almost got Chihoon arrested–”

“So now it’s all my fault?! We’re sinking, we’re doomed, and it’s all my fault?! Fuck you! You have no idea how or why– what do you even know about anything, really?!” Seungsoo spits at him, infuriated. “You just fucking got here, and– and you’ve been with us for a year and some fucking weeks, max! And it seems like everyone forgot that, that they all forgot that there was a time without you, but I didn’t! Do you even know what Haegon said, when he came with the idea of unfollowing Dylan?! ‘No matter what we do now Gyujin’s gonna fix it in the morning, so let’s do something dumb and tiny, so he won’t kill us!’ Like you’re in control or something! But news flash, this is New Wave Music, and you’re not in control, no one is! And if someone was, that someone would be me! Minwoo, Jimin, and me!”

“Or maybe not, now!” Seungsoo’s mouth keeps on going. He’s griping at the concrete of the balcony with one hand, pointing one straight at the center of Gyujin’s chest, and just letting a whole torrent out. “Maybe you do deserve trust more than I do! You– You know everything because everyone tells you everything, and you songwrite too, you can still play the tuba, why don’t you just take my fucking place, uh? If I get it all wrong and you do it all right?! Go be an executive producer, go on! Fuck writing all over just Beomseok, end me too! Minwoo likes you better anyway, maybe you can make his slump go away! Jimin fucking likes you better too, he won’t even mind me being gone, you might even get him to stop hiding Nicola from everyone, who knows!”

Seungsoo takes a shaky pause to breathe, his chest rising. He’s sure his face is red, that there’s a line of sweat on his forehead.

Gyujin remains too close and unmoving, his eyes semi close, analyzing.

“And what else?” He asks. He’s still grinning like he knows something Seungsoo doesn’t. “C’mon, go on. Spill it all out. I wanna hear it.”

“You sick–!” Seungsoo grunts, then takes another deep inhale, ends up almost choking on his own spit.

Coughing, he dismangles his grip off Gyujin’s shirt and forces himself to fall silent – they both do. Somewhere down in the street, a million cars honk and make out a disastrous symphony, and it pierces through Seungsoo’s ears like he’s in the middle of traffic. He’s minutes away from developing a killer migraine.

“So this is what comes out of you when you’re scared, yeah?” Gyujin eventually notes, quiet. Seungsoo can almost hear the tiny smile on his face stretching and growing warmer, showing just a flash of front teeth, white like a goddamn grain of salt. “Pretty animalistic reaction, although highly entertaining–”

“I’m not scared,” Sengsoo fires back, even though he is. He knows it deep in his bones, by the lack of good sleep: he’s terrified of blinking too slowly and missing any more warning signs, more sunny days; fearing they’re already all long behind him. He turns his head down. “Just, just– Tired of feeling– Tired.”

And feeling like I don’t belong, is what he thinks but doesn’t say: Like I’m not good at my job. Like no one will ever forgive me.

He feels one of Gyujin’s warm hands setting over his shoulder, offering it a squeeze. This time Seungsoo leaves it there, allowing it to linger. “Hyung, I can see that. We all can. You’ve been putting on some crazy hours in the studio lately. We appreciate how hard you’re covering for Minwoo hyung. I might not have thanked you for that yet, so–”

“Spare me the prase shower, Woo Gyujin,” Seungsoo grunts, running a hand over his face, onto his hair. “Just tell me to fuck off now so I can go to sleep with at least one argument settled.”

“And make it that much easier for you? Ha, of course not,” Gyujin laughs, amused. “Besides, we’re not fighting, have never fought, and never will. You have nothing to settle with me. But I’ll give you space to gather your courage to face who you really should.”

“Fuck you,” Seungsoo says, just to be the one to get the last words as Gyujin’s walking back and away. It comes off sounding tiny and defeated, a little ashamed.

He doesn’t get that: as soon as Gyujin gets a hand on the door, he calls back, “And in the meantime…”

Seungsoo takes an annoyed peek over his shoulder to glare at him. “What?”

“Follow Dylan back, you fucking drama queen,” Gyujin says, rolling his eyes, grinning like the Devil he pretends he isn't. “And relax, okay? We’ll be fine. We always are.”

And he disappears behind the glass, pulling the curtains inside and turning off the light.

On the tiny balcony only Seungsoo and the never quiet city remain, looking as the sun goes down and down.

#&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ writing .#&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ development .#&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ seungsoo .#fictional idol community #fake kpop group #kpop fanfic #kpop au #kpop oc

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killykstudio · 2 years ago

Text

— GRIS Y AZUL miguel o’hara x fem!reader

First part!

Warnings : blood; injuries; depiction of panic attack; slightly smut; fluff; making out; politician; y/n use; fem!reader x Miguel o'hara; I'm not native English or Spanish speaker so forgive me for orthographic errors; Spanish sentences are translated.

Notes : Hi,everybody! Since we are all on the same boat for having brain rot on Miguel , I decided to write something myself.

I decided to give Y/N a different personality instead of the usual cute , shy, clumsy , kind and courageous one. I opted for a realistic one this Y/N isn't an empath, to honest a blasé, she is opportunistic, Machiavellian , manipulative and has a lot of personal problems that you will get to read. She obviously has also good traits : like being truthful at herself, caring towards the one she cares , witty and even though she is not an empath, she has her own sense of good and evil , of what must be done and can understand and adapt what others are feeling, even though she doesn't feel the same.

Also I decided for another job rather than the same barista, assistant or spider person: politician. Since Miguel has a conflictual emotion towards the richer members of Nueva York and a job like that adds more tension and more themes to explore.

For Miguel personality I will try my best to be faithful to comicbooks and part of the movie, since this take place before them.

I will explore their personalities more ,but don't worry there will be a lot of tension and smut.

Also the characters from the comic book will appear.

Anyway enjoy this first chapter!

Chapter One

It's another day in polluted and overpopulated Nueva York. The bright colors of the uppercity contrasting with the undercity's neon lights. Everybody is rushing towards their destination without even caring about others and themself. The only thing that matters is keep moving , keep producing, keep consuming.The " Estación Gran Central" is full of people all running towards different direction, like ants; on a wall there is a big screen projecting a lights over them. The screen is on channel 99, airing a special after the News about the last hot social topic, where two politicians from differet opposition share their view on the matter , obviously, as in this case , ends with a rather big discussion where no one listen and everybody screams as they have the truth in their hands.

You are slowing to watch the show taking places on the screen. A rather disgusted smirk paints on your face.

"What a circus" you murmur

TUN!

Without realizing your smirk is kissing the floor and you got stepped by the hasty citizens. Struggling to get yourself up. In the end you get back on your feet, hapless with fury and frustration written all over the face and head back to your destination, melting in the crowd.

'SS BROOKLYN ZONA' is lighting the sides of the train. You are already seated inside , trying in everyway to not thinking about the day that is gonna take place. Going to the parliament, smiling to everybody , trying to convince the opposition about a new decree, that you have been trying to apply for months ; get a fake 'yes' to face , but a 'no' during the votes; trying to avoid the stamp , who will analyze every single word you say ,only to bring you down, to be feasted to the pubblic ; talking with people you don't care , who don't care about you and your ideals; it seems like being on a stage , it looks like your job is being an actress 24/24h , when in reality you wanted truly chance something , create a city strong and united against other indipent city, not for some sense of unity , paece or empathy , but for prosperity of the economy, the sciences and the arts. Then it would come the evening, where you had to go out with other "colleagues" to talk about new strateges, new plans and how to overthrown the opposition to able to have the most of the seats in the upcoming election. Not only the arguments would most of the time swift towards more "shallow", conversations about everyday things, which you would love to interested in them , but you could never bring herself to like , as you felt some sort of shame when doing them: never left yourself some mental rest, always thought that you had to do something important, to leave a meaninful print in everything, to be important for meaningful reasons. Then the night wouldn't be mercyful: the heavy silence flooding your hears, almost painful , in your minimalist, empty, modest appartment. Loliness was such a torment, but also a sort of pleasure, since was the only moment where you were yourself , free of any social convention.

This was yesterday.

This was the day even before.

The day before before

The other day.

The last week.

The last moth.

The last year.

The last 25 years.

This is gonna be the today.

CRASH!

At least it's what you thought, not what the universe had in plan for you.

The train stops abruptly. A voice from the speaker speak after a jingle :" Dear passenger we inform you that the train has stopped due to en emergency on the surface. Please remain calm and wait for further instructions".

"Finally a good day" you think to yourself. You signed , leaning your head to the window, which showed the dark of the tunnel, closed your eyes and relaxed. Meanwhile other passengers start screaming, panicking and trying to overcome their anxiety. You are in a total state of total bliss , you feel like outside of space and time, in another dimension ,in another reality , where anything mattered.

Until you get brougth back to reality to the sudden sped the train started moving. The acceleration keeps growing. Some passengers fall on the floor, others have to hold on to the handles or at the walls. You were leaning against the seat , with wide eyes and a confused expression. Outside the window change color from black to the bright light blue of the sky. There you see that all the city is under attack: most of the cars are out of control , the traffic light went crazy , the skyscrapes windows are blinking from the lights inside, all the mobiles the gizmos ,all kind of technology was out. It's a disaster.The same jingle as before ring in the train :" Dear passengers ,please remain calm, we arent gonna do anymore intermediate stops, we are going to get to destination in time".

"Hell with that!"

"What is going on?!"

"We are gonna die, isn't it?!"

"Go fuck yyourself"

"Fuck you NYLine"

Everybody is going nuts: panic and confusion is in the air

"Breath and stay calm" you thought, panic isn't a good idea, now you have to process what is going on. In total tranquility you get up and go to the real of the train , fearing that the train is gonna collide against another one, this was clearly a technical issue or a terroristic attack. When you almost get there, abruptly the train stops and you fly against the wall. When you open your eyes , your head was , blood started running from your nose, vision blurred and a ring is in your hears. It isn't in your head, it's the speaker ,who got stuck.

Then another jingle:

"Dear passenger we inform you that-

TUN!

A hand appears on the window near you ,making you jump from the sound , your blood freezes.

You turn your head and see

"SPIDERMAN OH MY GOD"

"MIO DIO GRAZIE AL CIELO"

"तब हम बच जाते हैं"

"¡DIOS MIO!"

You look at him with shock from everything that is happening

He reciprocate your look, then he goes on the roof and starts running towards the front.

After some seconds another jingle rkng :" dear passengers" the voice is different, it was more deep, smooth, almost sensual. In a calm , formal tone continues: " We inform you that Spider-Man is here to save the day and I just covered the train with webs,which leads to the ground. Usa the emergency hammers, shatter the windows ,get out immediately and search a safe space!"

Everbody start doing what he said. In a matter of time you are on the ground ,out of train, still dizzy from everything. As you find a safe place in shop near among other citizens, waiting for clearer istructions ,your mind starts running super quickly, maybe is all the adrenaline in your veins or maybe all the panic repressed before. A stale thought catch your attention :" god it must be so thrilling to be spiderman"

"All the things I would do, all the adventure, all the drama , all the handsome men, the perfect body , I could punch and threaten everbody I want , I could be able to get my decree approved with such easy, I could impose oder and peace"

"Y/N!" Your megalomaniac thoughts get interrupted by an old woman's voice. You turn to see the head of the opposition, Clara Conte.

"Happy to see a familiar face in this see of strangers"

You nooded as Conte got near you.

"This is such a tragedy... This is gonna be on the mouths of everybody for months"

"Who do you think is gonna get all the fingers pointed at for this hell?" You ask with a slight smirk of amusement.

"Mmm" Conte slightly smiles, rubbing a finger under her chin. " Probably the CEO FastNet "

"really?" your brow raise s.

"Yeah"

"Not the Web police?!"

"Nah"

"Well" you are quite suprised by her affermation.

"Whoever is gonna get the guilt , is gonna be executed by the media and popular thought"

Silence falls between the you two, Conte is still rubbing her finger, untill she speakes again

"Wanna bet 20$?"

"50$"

"Alright, you are pretty confident of your prevision"

Suddenly all the technology go back to working. A cacophonic symphony of notifications from all the cellphone in the room erupts. Conte and you watch their respective mobile. You then look at her.

"I just use logic and my m-

Out of nowhere a tentacles breaks through the shop window and grabs Clara Conte. She gets abrupted from the shop. You watched with horror as the woman is asking for help until she dissappers from the street. Your look of horror transformed into one unfazed.

"What a pity" you think scarcastically.

A drone of the stamp passes by.

You glow.

"Fuck, they saw me. She is gonna use this situation to play the victim with the electors and paint me as the coward who remained still. Fuck, fuck , fuck".

You get up and run to the direction they went , thinking about something helpful to do to feed a good image to the media.

"So tentacles... It must Octo...what does he want this time? Money? Vegeance? Chaos? Meh..."

Octo from the 2099 universe is a famous doctor, who after acknowledging to have cancer, tried to cure himself, but ended up messing his dna, becoming a monstrosity half octopus half human.

You stopped in front of the parliament where there is a cortina of policeman , army. Octo is inside.

You walk through the barrier of officers with a fake courageous look. You start talking with them about the situation.

When they finish sharing all the infomation they have , you come to the conclusion that they will not interview soon, since they are waiting for upper commands and they seem rather tired from all the work they had today and uninterested to help one single person, when the city was still recovering from the disaster. Thanks to your position, you get a permission to enter alone the building, taking ,before ,a laser gun from one of the man. They try to persuade you to not enter , but they can't bring themself care to the point to actually stop you. During your entrance you were being recorded by the stamp drones ,which where all around the building.

"This is gonna be helpful for the next elections" you try to a hide a smile to look as professional as possible.

The parliament was dark and empty , only scattered furniture all around the halls.

Two voices echo through a hall.

You follow them.

Without being noticed , stalk the two, who were talking: Conte was being still being hold by one of the tentacle meanwhile Dr.Octopus is searching for something on electronic papers.

"What's the password of this one Minister?"

....

Conte doesn't respond. He shakes her.

"W-h-a-t-a-t-h-e-p-a-s-s-w-o-r-d"

Conte scared shares the information and he getd the access to some of private governments papers and starts searching for the one, he is interested in.

You are moving slowly towards the two behind without making a noise.

TU DUN!

the sound of metal hits the ground. You stopped, shocked:

You didn't made fall anything.

Dr.Octopis starts analysing the room, in the search

Then a frying sound hits him from behind.

He gets shot by laser in the head.

It was you.

Then another shot goes through him, this time it cuts the tentacle that is holding the woman.

She fall on the ground. You go to give her hand to get out.

You feel the Doc behid you.Unfortunately for you the first shot only pierced Octo left ear.

"Fuck , fuck ,fuck , why do i make this stupid decisions?! Why?! Why?! Why?! Only for some good images of me trying to be heroic?! Why I am so stupid?! Everytime a do domething it twist itself on me ?! God I want to die , but like I don't want to die!!?????" You are trying to not hyperventilate , to act calm and resoluted , but your hands are betraying you, shaking meanwhile you are trying to take the gun. Quickly soon a tentacle storms against you.

You pushs Conte to the right and yourself to left, avoiding to be caught.

On the ground you get your weapon recalibrate it to shoot him again. He is running towards conte to grab her again.

This time he wouldn't be merciful, he doesn't need her anymore since he got the password to the computer.

You aren't ready to shoot, you are sweting, shaking frenetically, making all more difficult.

BAM!

A huge piece of Concrete hits DocOct and Conte is quickly grabbed by a neon orange web.

It was Spiderman.

In the shadow his suit glows with red hints.

"Follow me!" He shouts to you.

Clusmly you start movimg towards him. He shoots another web to grab and push you against his chest.

"Quickly" he adds with arrogance. You go from being impressed and fascinated to annoyed and unimpressed.

You are running towards the halls. Conte is being held under his arm trapped in the web.

All is going fine , till you gets strangled by a tentacle and pushed back to the dark of the building

"YOU!" Octo screams.

You couldn't even shout for help.

" ¡Mierda!" Spiderman exclamates.

He sprints outside leaving Conte to the paramedics , ready to storm inside to help you, till all officers points their guns towards him.

"STOP DON'T MOVE"

"¡Estas pendejo !" Spidey murmurs to himself , bringing his hands to the air.

"YOU ARE UNDER ARREST"

" So you can't arrest the actual criminal and decide to compesante by taking in the only one who is doing something?!"

"SHUT UP AND DON'T MOVE"

"just because we both have bizzare animal themed powers, doesn't mean we are part of a company together, you follow? Or you would make part of it too , since you are pigs wit-" before he could finish, they start shooting at him.

Thanks to his agility he avoids all the bullets. In that right moment Octo flies from from the crystal celling of the main room ,holding you in one of his tentacle.

Pieces of glass decored the sky as confetti.

He throws some granade. All the presents starts fleeing the scene to get cover.

Spiderman incredulous of himself helps them anyway to not get hurt from the debris.

After he looked at the you, who looked like you already accepted your fate.

Octo on the other tentacles has grabbed some computers,

He starts moving quickly away from the scene.

Spiderman follows and reachs him.

OUCH!

A punch hits the criminal face, making the criminal fly against a building. When he recovered he feels a burning sensatuon running in his veins, thus realition hits : on one of his tentacles were bitten by Spiderman , injecting him with paralyzing venom. His eyes widen and he gathers all his remaning strength, before the venom could hit completely. Unfortunately it wasn't enough: another streak of punches and kicks got him out.

Spidey pulls out his blades from his forearm and slices the tentacles, being rewarded by a scream from the Doctor, who starts losing his senses,until he meets his destiny to the ground.

You watch this scene surprised: you knew the officers wouldn't do much to save you as they did with Conte, you already submitted yourself to the consequences of your action.

Death by stupidity, by fake heroism , it is what would be on your cause of death. Spidey manages to free and hug you to swing away from the scene.

You are in a total state of disbelief. Your arms are locked around his neck , his hand is grabbing your butt, with gentleness and your face is dig in his collabrone. You could smell his strong scent, a mixture of sweat and cologne , it is so mesmerizing.

Now you feel safe and relax . The wind in your hair , the softness of this man , his warmth , his scent , his breathing, the beating of his heart.

You never felt like this, in peace with the world, then everything comes immediately to an end , when the adrenaline stopped pumping through your veins and all the emotions you had repressed, exploded out.

"Please DON'T MAKE FALL" you screams panicked

"Why would I do ?! I didn't save you to male you fall on the ground?!?!"

You tighten your hug

" ¡Relájate Nena!" (Relax ,baby)

"I SPEAK ENGLISH"

"you don't speak Spanish?!? AND LIVE IN NUEVA YORK?!"

"I've never learned its to diffic- STOP IM SLIPPING"

"YOU AREN'T!STAY CALM!"

You start crying without realizing over his shoulder.

He notices and feels bad , everything you went through today must had you destroyed your nerves with fear and anxiety.

"Ey ey ey , why are crying?! In this right moment you being saved by the most beautiful man in whole NY"

You slightly chuckle at his comment, making you feel better.

"Yeah , you say that based what"

"On the people who saw me"

"But you always wear a mask!"

"It's because I'm too handsome , it would kill everybody ,who sees my face of envy "

"Then why don't you use it as a weapon against all your enemies"

"Because do you think its fair to make admire such a magnificent face to those bastards?! They don't deserve such privilege"

"Then I can get suche privilege?"

"Sorry but to take it off, i will have to use my hand"

"So?"

"Okay , you can choose between the one that is helding you and the one that shoots the webs"

You rolle your eyes to your stupidity.

" I can use mine" You start moving slowly you hands up ,from his neck to the sides of his cheeks

"Sorry, but you can't, it's Company policy"

You started chuckling harder.

Before you could do anything else, the hand under your butt left you and you fell down.

You scream.

A web engulfes you

Your face just stopped in time a few centimeters from hitting the ground: caught upside-down like a prey. Adrenaline started again flowing in your veins. Your heavy beath jumping againt the floor.

"I saved you three times today : one from that creep , two from your disobedience ,three from my beauty "

He frees her from the webs, making you fall on your knees and immediately you stands up, adjusting yourself.

"Here take it , for the turbulence"

Before your could meet his gaze , 50$ bucks appeared on your hand and he swings away.

You look at him disappearing im the chaos of the city with blown eyes , you still have to reconnect everything that happened.

;;;;

The night had fallen on the city bright colored lights decored the skyline. Everything almost got back to before. Now the sounds of chaos were gone.

Your appartament is quiet and covered in dark, the only lights are the one from the outside. You had fallen asleep immediately after you came back from the mess of today, still dressed; blood,dust and sweat stained all over you . You didn't care your brain literally went blackout the Moment you touched the fresh sheets of your bed.

Your phone is full of missed calls and not-read message.

The peace in the apartment gets interrupted by a sound of an opening window from the living room. Step by step someone is heading towards your bedroom. Your door opens slightly and a black silhouette of a man comes inside

You didn't wake up at any of this.

The man gets on bed on his knees, nearing himself to you.

"Por nena! ha sido un día difícil" ( poor ,baby , it has been a difficult day?) the men whispered in your left hear as you are laid on one side.

"Mmm" you get awake by the warmth of his breath on your neck , which sends a shimmer in your back.

"Necesitas relajarte" ( you have to relax) with a hand he grabs your shoulder and pushes you on back violently .

You gasp and your breath speeds up.

You are still a little bit asleep and weaken from the fatigue of the day.

He puts his hands on both you shoulders , chaging you between his arms : he was huge, he completely covered you with his broad should and chest.

You narrowed your eyes to focus who he was

"spiderm-" before you could finish your sentence he lifted his mask till up his nose and kissed you passionately.

At first your eyes were wide by the shock , then you relaxed and melted by his soft lips.He wrapped them around your bottom, breathy groans easily escaping him, as he pulled you impossibly closer. His heart was beating on overdrive, nearly at a concerning tempo as he lapped at your mouth.

He eventually pulls away and you find yourselves both panting slightly from the exchange.Your hands go to the back of his head and you pull him in to kiss him again, more deeply this time but just as passionately. He quickly and easily matches your kiss, and soon you find him leading as you let yourself become completely vulnerable to him, nearly losing yourself to him. He ends the kiss again, pulling away, heavy breaths leaving his mouth.

"Déjame ayudarte" (let me help you) He said softly smirking.

TO BE CONTINUED

;;;;

Thanks for reading till the end , I hope you enjoyed it and be ready soon for the next chapter!

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #atsv #itsv #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #spider man #spider man 2099 #fanfiction

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tawakkull · 8 months ago

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ISLAM 101: Spirituality in Islam: Part 259

Safar (Journeying)

Literally meaning being transported from one place to another, journeying in the language of the Sufis is described as being freed from living a restricted life with carnal or bodily concerns and bounds, and turning to God on the horizon of the heart. It can be viewed and dealt with within the concepts of “journeying toward God,” “journeying in God,” and “journeying from God.”

Turning to God or journeying on His way begins with a person’s conscious decision and continues along the bridges of belief, the practice of Islam in daily life, and attaining excellence in one’s deeds in awareness that God always sees us and whatever we do. It requires sincerity and purity of intention in faith and the practice of Islam, as well as austerity, asceticism, righteousness, and piety. It continues until the point where the Divine Being, Who introduces Himself to us with the words, We are nearer to him than his jugular vein (50:16), favors the wayfarer, who feels invaded by His love and being attracted by Him and experiences an overflowing zeal toward Him, with special nearness to Him. Those who have reached this point and feel this nearness in their spirit cannot help but utter, “There is no longer any space, neither in the heavens nor in the earth!” Without stopping, they continue their journeying, which has now passed beyond time and space.

Journeying occurs at various levels and forms according to how the initiate has been prepared for it, the extent of his own spiritual capacity and, more than anything else, according to the particular gifts with which the One Who is nearer to everything than itself will favor him.

Journeying begins with reflection on the outer world and the human inner world, and by perceiving God’s particular manifestation of His mercy and His assistance amidst His overall manifestations of His Names in the light of belief in Divine Unity, and by feeling this particular manifestation in one’s inner world with pleasure. This journey, which can be viewed as journeying toward God, continues with the continuous sipping of Divine knowledge by observing His unique stamp on whatever there is in the universe, from the earth to the farthest galaxies. Initiates making this journey never set their hearts on anything other than God, but spend unending efforts to turn to God in their hearts, continuing their relationships with other things and beings only with respect to the fact that they are, in truth, also indicators of God. As long as they feel the breezes that emanate from this proceeding on the way to God in the depths of their hearts or observe their horizon of being favored by God on their peaks, they feel more and more provoked to rise higher and boil from the depths of their hearts in the virtuous circle of observation and pleasure. This state of theirs can be viewed in the light of the verse, Those who keep from disobedience to God in reverence for Him and piety: when a suggestion from Satan touches them—they are alert and remember God, and then they have clear discernment (7:201). An initiate who has reached this elevated horizon sees, feels, and evaluates everything differently and displays continuous changes from a lower state to a higher one.

In the second stage of journeying, or in the second journeying, initiates free themselves from different pieces of information that have been collected from different sources and proceed toward unity in thought on the horizon of knowledge of God, exhibiting this unity through all their faculties. This stage can be viewed as “journeying in God,” and it consists of an initiate’s feeling through the Divine Names the Divine Being Himself called by these Names; and his experiencing the protection and direction of the Divine Attributes; and regarding his innate poverty as a means of pride, continuously progressing toward Him on his particular horizon through the perception of his own innate poverty and helplessness. Initiates in this second stage are always aware of Him, are satisfied with their knowledge of Him, voice Him, and experience themselves in His company at all times. Some call this stage journeying in “the company of the Ultimate Truth.” Heroes of spirituality who have reached this peak on the horizon of being aware of the Divine Names watch what is beyond through the prism of the Divine Attributes, and cast their nets of spiritual faculties to catch mysteries. Like sunflowers always turning their faces to the sun, with the eyes of their hearts fixed on a certain point on the horizon, and their consciences conducting business with the Divine Being, they act in great awe of the Divine Presence, shuddering at realizations which they feel according to their level. Every one of their states displays the truth voiced in,They do whatever they do and give whatever they give in charity and for God’s cause, with their hearts trembling at the thought that they are bound to turn to their Lord. It is those (illustrious ones) who hasten to do all kinds of virtuous deeds, and they are in a virtuous competition with one another in doing them (23:60–61). When they turn their eyes to the sensed existence, they notice the Divine Names; and when they contemplate what exists beyond the sensed existence, they are struck with wonder and amazement.

One drowned in such knowledge of God cannot distinguish between the Names and He Who is called by these Names; The disciples of the guides of the Order of Jilan are cognizant of such mysteries. M. Lutfi[1] The third type of journeying or the third stage of journeying consists of going beyond the difference between the outward and the inward in existence and the Religion, and being favored with the unshakable conviction of and experiencing God’s particular manifestations on oneself and relations with oneself as an individual, as well as the overall manifestations of His Names throughout the universe. This highest point in journeying corresponds to the horizon of feeling absorbed in Divine Existence. This absorption must never be thought of as Incarnation or Union,[2] both of which are false beliefs. Rather, it means going beyond all opposites in the sensed dimension of existence and experiencing the transcendent unity that encompasses and operates in everything. As explained by Jalalu’d-Din ar-Rumi,[3] absorption means that initiates feel annihilated in their horizon of knowledge and love of God. This rank, which is described in the Qur’an (53:9) as nearness to the point where there is only a distance between the strings of two bows (put adjacent to each other), or even nearer (than that), essentially belongs to the Prophet Muhammad, upon him be peace and blessings. And those who have reached the final point of nearness to God and sainthood can experience its shadow, each according to their particular capacities, and are freed from all opposites and dichotomies in their hearts.

We can mention another type of journeying. This type of journeying is particular to the heirs of the mission of Prophethood. It consists of turning back among the created after completing ascension to the Creator and feeling absorbed in His Existence. It is such a particular Divine favor that, having set their feet firmly on the Divine Oneness, initiates who are distinguished by it deepen their ascension with “descent,” with the zeal of conveying to others all their experiences and the gifts with which they have been, are, and will be, favored. These initiates become the translators of the Creator among the created. This type or stage of journeying, which is also called “journeying from God and with God,” is the most valuable and meritorious of journeys and is another to designate the rank of having reached the highest point.

Those who have achieved this last journeying sometimes seem strange and are estranged among people. However, conscious of their being favored with Divine company, they spend lives in an atmosphere where they always feel the breeze of Prophetic congratulations: “How happy are those estranged!”[4] They constantly feel the breezes that flow from the worlds beyond and the next world and they experience both of the worlds together.

Some of the Sufi elders regard the beginning of journeying as “journeying,” and its end as “residence.” Some others approach both the beginning and end as “residence,” while still others see the journey, with all of its stages, to be “journeying.”

There are some different considerations concerning journeying that arise from differences of temperaments and schools of Sufism. Believing that they are not directly related with journeying itself in its essential nature, we will be content with briefly mentioning the concept of ” journeying in the native land (safar dar watan),” which the followers of the Naqshbandiya Order regard as one of the eleven essentials of journeying. We will also give a short definition of the other essentials.

Safar dar watan (journeying in the native land) is used when a traveler toward God is freed from bad morals and the influence of carnal desires, being equipped with angelic attributes. This is in conformity with the saying of the Greatest of Migrants in God’s cause, upon him be peace and blessings: “A migrant in God’s cause is the one who migrates from what God has forbidden.”[5]

The other eleven essentials, each of which is expressed with a particular term, are as follows:

Hush dar dam (Awareness in every moment): This means that initiates are conscious of what they do and are aware that God sees them at every breath. An initiate who accomplishes this is regarded as one who constantly remembers and mentions God.

Nazar bar qadam (Noticing one’s steps): This signifies that travelers toward God are always careful of where they put their feet and how they take each step. It also describes how travelers fix their eyes upon God without ever setting their hearts upon anything or anyone else.

Halwat dar anjuman (Secret meeting amidst crowds): This term, which signifies that an initiate is alone with God while among people, implies the reaction of the Naqshbandiya against seclusion. They maintain that seclusion suggests a secret desire for renown, whereas social life prevents such a desire and is preferable in respect of being beneficial to people.

Yad kard (Remembrance): This term means that travelers toward God should keep their inner world under constant supervision, holding their breath and mentioning God in their hearts. This can also be described as remembrance or mention of God through the heart.

Baz kasht (Distinguishment): This is what is meant in the verse, When you are free (from one task), resume (another task) (94:7), and it denotes how initiates resume a new good deed after they finish their invocations. It is the summation of “O my God! You are the One Whom I seek out, and Your good pleasure is what I yearn for.”

Nigah dasht (Noticing): This means more than s elf-supervision and denotes being meticulously careful about one’s inner world, trying not to think of, or remember, anything other than God. It varies in degree according to capacities.

Yad dasht (Keeping in mind): This denotes what the Qur’anic term ihsan (excellence, perfect goodness) means. It is used to express that initiates should continually act in the awareness that God always sees them and their actions.

Wuquf zamani (Awareness of time): This signifies that initiates who have almost reached the final point in journeying should be awake and employing the utmost care and self-possession, acting with insight at every moment of their lives. It is often regarded as one of the significant spiritual stations toward the final point in journeying.

Wuquf adadi (Awareness of number): This is a term used to describe how initiates should be careful to mention certain words or phrases in the exact number that their guide wants them to.

Wuquf kalbi (Awareness of one’s h eart): This term signifies that initiates who have reached the final point in journeying should turn to God with all their faculties and concentrate on Him. It is a state belonging to those who have reached the peak.

May God guide us and you to the safe and sound way, and may His blessings be upon our master, Muhammad, full of pity and compassion, and on his Family and Companions, who were noble, godly and virtuous.

[1] Muhammed Lutfi Efendi (1868–1956)

[2] Incarnation means God’s taking the form of a human being and being seen in this form, while Union means a person’s joining Divinity or being one with God.

[3] Jalalu’d-Din ar-Rumi (1207–1273): One of the Muslim saints and Sufi masters most famous in the West. He is regarded as the founder of the Mevlevi Order of the whirling dervishes, famous for his Mathnawi, an epic of the religious life in six volumes.

[4]Muslim “Iman” 232; at-Tirmidhi, “Iman” 13.

[5]al-Bukhari, “Iman” 4; Abu Dawud, “Jihad” 2.

#allah #god #islam #muslim #quran #revert #convert #revert islam #convert islam #help #revert help #revert help team #hadith #how to convert to islam #convert to islam #welcome to islam

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