#atarah's crown

[cryingasiwrite]

WIP INTRO// The Voice of Nobility

Atarah's Crown, Book One

NO·BI·LI·TY:the group of people belonging to the noble class in a country, especially those with a hereditary or honorary title.

When Roman Eren graduated from the most prestigious military school in the realm, he believed he knew what life held for him. As first prince of a territory in the country of Domun, he expected nothing more than fine men, combat training, and more lessons on how to soon be king. All of that gets thrown out the window when the Prince of Domun-the Atarah Prince-Enayat Asen gets attacked in broad daylight along with his friends. Roman is chosen to be Enayat's guard, but he must decide wether to stay loyal to his father and his people or the country of Domun and her crown.

The Voice of Nobility combines elements of low fantasy and high fantasy, while blurring the line between fantasy itself and science fiction, with a strong emphasis on diverse characters. The Voice of Nobility is the first book in the Atarah's Crown series, an introduction to a wide universe made up of three realms-the Kisuan Universe. Fantasy, found family, and nobility never seemed as modern as they do now. 

D E T A I L S

genre: fantasy (it’s a bit messy...but they have magic)

Main Cast: Enayat Asen, Piper Caroll, Iris Dunn, Roman Eren

audience: young adult

pov: third person limited (focus differs)

status: beta reading

content warnings: References of Past Physical Abuse, (off-screen) References of Past Manipulation (off-screen, on-screen for two scenes), Combat, Blood, Cursing, Trauma, War

tropes + themes: found family & family themes in general, kinda enemies to lovers, diversity (queer and BIPOC characters)

[cryingasiwrite]

I found this while perusing, and thought it would be pretty fun to answer. Of course, these answers are based on my wip series, Atarah's Crown. (Check out the info post here)

What is the main lesson of your story (e.g. kindness, diversity, anti-war), and why did you choose it? The main lesson in my story, as far as I can tell, is that we are all many things. As in, there is no one way to define a person, that we are made up of our experiences, our loved ones, and the choices we make. I'm not sure why I chose this, though. To be fair, I don't think I did, it just happened.

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding (like real-life cultures, animals, famous media, websites, etc.)? The world building for Atarah's Crown took place over the span of roughly ten years. Stories such as Red Queen by V. Aveyard certainly had a hand in creating the world, as did miscilanious forms of media I've consumed over the years. Again, I can't exactly pinpoint what was the inpiration.

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, help readers grow as a person? Seeing as Atarah's Crown is centered around four main characters, I'm going to choose my personal favorite: Enayat Asen. Enayat only wants to make the people around him proud. While he definitley has anger issues, he only makes important desicions around what others would like. I would like his character--and his growth--to show others that they can make others happy, but need to make themselves happy first. (This coming from a people-pleaser)

How many chapters is your story going to have? Right now, just around thirty.

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it? It's original content! My goal is to get it professionally published.

When and why did you start writing? I started writing when I was seven. No idea why, it just sort of happened, probably a school assignment. Ever since then, writing has become and integral part of who I am as a person.

Do you have any words of engagement for fellow writers of Writeblr? What other writers of Tumblr do you follow? Bad writing is still writing. At the ned of the day, it's better to write something terrible than nothing at all. Years down the line, you will look back at whatever horrid thing you wrote and laugh. Then, you'll be amazed with just how far you've come.

Writers of Tumblr, I have an ask game for you all!

Please reblog and answer these questions, maybe tag others too! My asks are also open for them.

By the way, please read my snippets of TFLOC!

What is the main lesson of your story (e.g. kindness, diversity, anti-war), and why did you choose it?

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding (like real-life cultures, animals, famous media, websites, etc.)?

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, help readers grow as a person?

How many chapters is your story going to have?

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

When and why did you start writing?

Do you have any words of engagement for fellow writers of Writeblr? What other writers of Tumblr do you follow?

[lcvescountdown]

female names starting with a + meanings:

Asena ☆ blue

Aspyn ☆ tree

Aster ☆ star, flower

Astraea ☆ star

Asuna ☆ apple tree

Atarah ☆ the crown

Aurelie ☆ the golden one

Aurore ☆ the dawn

Avalime ☆ bird

Aveline ☆ desired

Ayaka ☆ colorful flower

[esmeraythewriter]

Female names for your fantasy book pt.1 (with meanings)

Atarah- crown

Elowen- elm tree

Irina- peace

Zaria- sunrise

Verena- to fear, respect

Ophelia- help

Alessia- defending warrior

Dysis- sunset

Nyra- rose

Enora- honor

[sebrinalovebridalsllc]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: ATARAH Turquoise & Lace & Tulle Wedding Ballgown.

[poetskies]

𝘼 𝙎𝙔𝙈𝙋𝙃𝙊𝙉𝙔 𝙊𝙁 𝘼𝘾𝙏 𝙄𝙄

𝐼𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑚 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑠, 𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑑. 𝐿𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑎 𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑛, 𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝘩𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑜𝑙𝑑. 𝐼𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑎𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝘩𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑑𝑠𝑡 𝑝𝑒𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑠 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑧𝑒. 𝑊𝘩𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝘩𝑒𝑟 𝑗𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑦.

FULLNAME : Niskaela Atarah Manawari

NICKNAME : Kaela

DATE OF BIRTH : January 29th, 2001

PLACE OF BIRTH : Los Angeles, California, United States

NATIONALITY : American/Indonesian

ZODIAC : AQUARIUS

MBTI : ISFP

BLOOD TYPE : A

HEIGHT : 168 cm

WEIGHT : 46 kg

OCCUPATION : Model and Singer

SEXUALITY : Bisexual

Education:

• Le Lycee Francais de Los Angeles

• British School Jakarta

• Art, Film, and Visual Studies (AFVS) Harvard University

ㅤㅤㅤShe swayed through chaos feet stunningly adorned. Amidst the noise, and crepuscular verse. Steps imprinted on earth's canvas, time's passage marked, a subtle dance. A tale, swift and sweet, within a journal's vast retreat. Book opened, page speaking, tales unfolding. Words dance, taking flight, settling gracefully upon the page. Sentences soar, a wondrous sight, arranged in poetic embrace a life of Niskaela Atarah Manawari, who was invited to this realm in late two thousand and one, at the twenty first day of December.

ㅤㅤㅤShe was born in Los Angeles California. Her father Alexander Djaya Manawari is an Indonesian filmmaker and composer. He is best known for his works in the genres of action, drama, and science fiction. And her mother Sylvie Amaranthine Smith is an American Co-CEO at film production company Manawari Productions. A blend of two worlds American and Indonesian, Kaela possesses a remarkable fluency in both the English and Indonesian languages, an ode to her childhood in a bilingual environment. Within the confines of her familial abode, she engages in conversations with her father in the native tongue of Indonesia, while effortlessly transitioning to English when conversing with her monther and close friends. This linguistic dexterity is a proof to her adaptability and the diverse linguistic influences that have shaped her communicative prowess. A dwelling fair, where Kaela resides one sister dwell with names that do confide, Kalasenja Ananta Manawari. In youth of merely twelve, she ventured forth to Jakarta, Indonesia, her father's country. Where six years of life did she dwell in foreign embrace, her heart did expand. In the realm of knowledge, where wisdom's light doth shine there lies a place. British Jakarta School, where youthful minds are nurtured with utmost care. In days of yore, when youth did bloom and grow she walked the halls, her spirit all ag in her heart's longing. She ventured back to her homeland's embrace. To study the arts, in their myriad forms at Harvard University. Art, Film, and Visual Studies, her chosen domain. A tapestry of creativity, where dreams attain. While her father takes the crown as her ultimate role model, she also harbors an unabashed adoration for the one and only Taylor Swift. Taylor Swift is the enchanting muse who dances through her thoughts, inspiring melodies and lyrics to flow like a river of creative brilliance.

ㅤㅤㅤIn the realm of her lineage, fair Kaela doth reside. Akin to her father's spirit, she doth confide. A youngest child who has youthful, cheerful, and adventurous vibes. Her essence doth gleam, a soul unshackled, a spirit that doth dream. In the grand tapestry of life, as Kaela gracefully unfurled her petals into the realm of adulthood, she discovered her own celestial path, guided by the boundless embrace of her cherished family. Her noble quest she endeavors to forge her own path through the tapestry of existence adorning herself as both model and singer, weaving a captivating tableau of herself.

[webcrawler3000]

Galactic federation

Female

African American

Petite

Curvy

Wearing a brown law enforcement uniform

Atarah was a Canaanite woman of rank, whom Jerahmeel married in order "to be crowned" through her; that is to say, to be raised to nobility ( , "crown," "decoration"). But she brought evil upon him, and was therefore called "the mother of Onam"; that is, "the mother of mourning" ( , "mourner").

FAVORITE COLOR: brown

[the-hem]

"Crowning Around." From the Maha Upanishad, the Exploration of the Mysteries of the Atman.

What is Atman? Atman is the combination of at, "soul" and ma "how to measure. At in Hebrew means "this is" and ma means "your name is".

Since we are looking at ways to create what is called parva gold, the insight drawn out of Judaism using the Vedas, I will draw more conclusions than usual using smatterings of Hebrew during this Upanishad given the overlap in the terminology fixed in the title of the document.

In order to explain Atman either way, one must understand Brahman first. Brahman becomes Atman when we start looking for signs of the Unseen Means that fosters the creation beginning to end.

Brahman means "remote reality", Atman is again, how that remoteness is made intimate through the use of the intellect and the faculties. The verses we just read state this is done through the searching for one's "ideal place" at the side of one's groom.

The Son of God called Grace is the Groom, we are the Bride, the Center of Creation is founded when recognition of oneself in its nearest reality the Self takes place. In Hebrew we would call the moment Atman is founded as Shabbat.

The next verses explain how Atman is realized according to the Upanishads:

I-7. Again, Narayana, desiring something else, thought. From his forehead a person arose with three eyes and a trident, having glory, fame, truth, celibacy, austerity, detachment, mind, lordship, seven Vyahritis (Bhur etc.,) along with Pranava, Rik and other Vedas, all metres is his body – so, he is the great Lord.

I-8-9. Then again, desiring something else, he thought – From his forehead, sweat fell and became the wide waters: from it a bright golden egg – in it was born the four-headed Brahma facing east.

Narayana became the Vyahriti, Bhur, the chandas Gayatri, the Rig-Veda and the deity, Agni.

Facing west he became Bhuvar, the chandas Tristubh, the Yajur-Veda and deity, Vayu.

Facing north, he became Vyahriti Suvar, Jagati-chandas, Sama-Veda and the deity Surya.

Facing south he became Mahar, chandas Anustubh, Atharva-Veda and Soma.

Vyahitris are "statements" they are mantras that are said to create a sudden state of Realization. They are condensed like sweat on the brow by peering into the Four Realms which are Bhur the earth, Bhuvah the residence, all life on earth, Suvar , "the golden light of awareness" and Mahar, "the Resin."

First is the study of the Upanishads. This happens at the dawn of Self-Realization, and explain why Brahma, the creator has four heads. The first stage is associated with emptiness.

Second is the Gayatri Mantra, which externalizes the blessings of the Vedas using the Fire of Speech. The second stage is associated with the yoke of self-control.

Third is the Wind, which is a change in Right Contact between the self and other selves. Third is the Sama Veda, which leads to understanding of the sage.

Fourth is the Resin, or the Shabbat, the distilled virtues of all the former. Fourth is the final stage called athar, or worship. In Hebrew this means to "crown around."

The verb עטר ('atar) means to surround. It occurs only twice in the Bible: Psalm 5:12 and 1 Samuel 23:26. Its derivations are:

The feminine noun עטרה (atarah), meaning a crown or wreathe (Ezekiel 21:26, Esther 8:15, Job 19:9).

The verb עטר ('atar) meaning to coronate or give a crown (Psalm 65:11, Isaiah 23:8).

The Brahman is far away, the Atman is near, the Crown is closer still once the Four Directions also called Upanishads in the Science of the Eternal are mastered.

See this also from the Muktika Upanishad:

I-ii-6. "Men who are seekers after Liberation and well-equipped with the four requisite means! (the four Vedas).  

Approached properly, with gifts in the hands, a good teacher who is dedicated, belonging to a good family, well-versed in the Vedas, interested in the scriptures, of good quality, straightforward, interested in the welfare of all creatures, compassionate and learn in the prescribed manner the one hundred and eight Upanishads; study them through listening, reflection and deep absorption continuously; the accumulated Karmas will be dissolved, the three kinds of bodies (gross, subtle and causal) are abandoned and like the ether of the pot when released from its Upadhi (name and form), rise to the level of fullness called Videha-mukti “freedom from the whims of the body”.   

This indeed is the Absolute Liberation (Kaivalya-mukti- Freedom to live one’s own life). That is why even those in the Brahma-loka, get identity with Brahman after listening to the Upanishads from his mouth. And for everyone Absolute Liberation is stated to be (attainable) only through knowledge; not through Karma rituals, not through Sankhya-Yoga (meditation on the Names of God) or worship. "

[thegenealogy]

1 Chronicles 11: 20-24. "Crowns the House."

Continuing our discussion of the ways a new age will be felt out by a people who have wandered but are now following their instincts for beauty to the front door of a House with Crown, a fully enlightened society:

20 Abishai the brother of Joab was chief of the Three. He raised his spear against three hundred men, whom he killed, and so he became as famous as the Three. 21 He was doubly honored above the Three and became their commander, even though he was not included among them.

Fame is greatness measured against arrogance. Fame mixed with fuss causes notoriety. Only a famous person can lead others having first learned how to steer himself. This is why Abishai is the one of three that is not one of three= Atroth-beth-joab, which "Crowns the House."

עטר

The verb עטר ('atar) means to surround. Noun עטרה (atarah) means crown and denominative verb עטר ('atar) means to coronate.

בית

The noun בית (bayit) means house. It sometimes merely denotes a domestic building, but mostly it denotes the realm of authority of the house-father, or אב (ab). This ab is commonly the living alpha male of a household, but may very well be a founding ancestor (as in the familiar term the "house of Israel"). The אב (ab) may also be a deity, in which case the בית (bayit) is that which we know as a temple.

In the larger economy, a house interacts with other houses. These interactions are governed by the אב (ab), or "father" and executed by the בנים (benim), or "sons": those people living in the house, irrespective of any biological relation with the אב (ab). The "sons" combined add up to אם ('em), which means both "mother" and "tribe".

אב

The noun אב ('ab) means father, but describes primarily a social relationship rather than a biological one. That social fatherhood was the defining quality of the community's alpha male, the one around whom all economy revolved and from whom emanated all instructions by which the 'sons' (בן, ben) operated. It's unclear where this word אב ('ab) comes from but the verb abu means to decide.

22 Benaiah son of Jehoiada, a valiant fighter from Kabzeel, performed great exploits. He struck down Moab’s two mightiest warriors. He also went down into a pit on a snowy day and killed a lion. 

Benaiah= built by Yah

Jehoiada= familiarity with all Yah knows

Kabzeel=will be gathered together

Moab= traditions, the way things were done before

Snow is the binding of steam back into a solid. The mind must be able to bind together vapor, abstract objects and turn them into tangible, knowable things:

From where was the dry land of the earth made? From the snow that is under God's Throne of Glory. God took it and threw it upon the water, the water then froze, and the dust of the earth was formed. As the verse states (Job 37:6) "To snow, God said: Become land!"

The Midrash implies that snow at its very essence is closely related to God's Throne of Glory and thereby, to God Himself.

The lion in a pit during a snow storm is "a reliable habit" of the enlightened man for interacting with the world, for attacking its unknowns with every possibility with what can be done to hold it together.

1The wicked flee without a pursuer, but the righteous are as trusting as a young lion.

2 Because of the sin of a land, its princes are many, but because of an understanding, knowledgeable man, so will [its retribution] be delayed.

-Proverbs 28.

23 And he struck down an Egyptian who was five cubits[d] tall. Although the Egyptian had a spear like a weaver’s rod in his hand, Benaiah went against him with a club. He snatched the spear from the Egyptian’s hand and killed him with his own spear. 

The law says each of us gets four cubits of personal space in life that is all our own. The Egyptian - a god of lies- not only had a spear like a weaver's rod, which were overkill, completely inappropriate, but he used it to borrow a little extra life energy from others.

The Warrior grabbed the spear and used it for shavat, a scepter rod, in order to obtain "full transparency"* and this killed the liar who was clearly not using it professionally or showing proper respect.

*Gematria of 900.

24 Such were the exploits of Benaiah son of Jehoiada; he too was as famous as the three mighty warriors. 25 He was held in greater honor than any of the Thirty, but he was not included among the Three. And David put him in charge of his bodyguard.

So what Crowns the House and confers it with honor, respect and protects it? Full transparency with the truth. To seek the truth, to draw it out of the air and make it known to the world is the essence of God's Throne of Glory here on earth.

[baphoblues]

name masterlist

names i'd like to use for characters that i find rather pretty!

deyanira - capable of great destruction

aesira - fighter, brave

ahren - forest

izel - unique

emery - power

erix - eternal ruler

mira - sea

vellamo - water, lakes, and seas

merikh - death, slaughter

raidne - siren

araluen - place of the water lilies

lyra - lyre

inola - black fox

leiluna - summer moon

ahmes - child of the moon

raelyn - sunbeam lake

aeron - carnage, slaughter

namir - cat

feyre - beautiful, fairy

amara - everlasting, immortal, grace

atarah - crown

mariana - star of the sea

eirian - silver

yeva - life

mirana - peace, prosperous

marzanna - death, winter

kaius - rejoice

alyra - harp

augustine - magnificent

jude - praise

delyth - pretty

coronis - crow

evren - universe

aviana - gracing the sky

finnick - phoenix

meltem - sea wind

zielle - heavenly

io - the moon

kijana - youth

vieva - living life

amari - strength

malina - soothing

aellae - whirlwinds

rathnait - little prosperous one

abraxas - a mythical word

syretia - a curious being

twyla - twilight

amets - dream

isa - travels at night

wislawa - great glory

raz - secret

ylva - she-wolf

fallon - leader

yeona - heart of gold

toinette - invaluable

eiphah - darkness, gloomy

kyra - throne

aysel - moon flood

yesfir - star

vasilka - queenly

ozanne - deliver us

airla - ethereal

niamh - radiant

laelia - lunar

sabah - morning

udara - summer

onatah - of the earth

kalypso - she who conceals

alkmene - might of the moon

unnur - wave

evulka - life

arwan - brave, courageous

ahmya - black rain

esyllt - glacial battle

clodovea - famous warrior

ksenija - stranger, foreigner

demir - iron

lieve - dear friend

aisling - dream, vision

ixone - solitude

islwyn - below the grove

tulay - veil of the moon

ladonna - lady

eleuia - wish

aderyn - bird

erna - battle to the death

renata - reborn

ayshil - full moon

blida - white flower

arjan - golden light

brygida - the exalted one

yieshah - alive

dagny - new day

maarja - rebelliousness

medakse - silky

yaminah - proper, blessed

idothea - knowing goddess

ase - god

[literature-alchemist]

silence that kills

(i am a lit-role-player from quotev and keep getting bapped bc i have spicy writing stuff in my journals so i will just post here and hope to save my lil blurbs)

Far too quiet.

Night time had fallen like a shroud of death upon them. All around the sounds of marching soldiers, shouted commands and doors opening and closing echoed like a broken symphony. Her heart thundered as she watched from the upper levels the young maiden she had once cradled so close, so carefully. Sending prayers to the heavens, to the hellfires, to anyone that would listen and guide her safe passage, she cradled hands that had just started showing signs of age close to her chest. But in her mind, there was only preternatural silence. It was the silence of death, the silence of losing everything and nothing at all. It was crushing in comparison to what had just transcurred.

“You set him free,” hissed in a dark alcove, she had grabbed her daughter by the arm. Her daughter who she loved more than life itself, more than perhaps even her youngest child. It was a sin, it was her doom but Gods knew that in her was everything that had been ripped from her.

Atarah’s gaze was full of defiance and a raging fire that seemed to melt their surroundings.

“He is innocent, mother, and your King is a monster!”

And there it was.

The truth lay between them like a rotting corpse.

Queen Alma only took a deep breath, letting her lids fall shut. Even in that quick moment she could feel the piercing gaze of her eldest, scrutinising every single gesture. Slowly, her hand loosened its vice on the woman’s arm.

“I know.” the Queen whispered, defeated .

“What?” she spat with disdain at her mere acknowledgement of the truth. The judgement was as scalding as she had intended and would forever brand the Queen.

Good.

“I will explain, but first,” meeting once more that gaze, she dared to raise her hand. Such a simple gesture made Atarah flinch and just when her mother thought she couldn’t be broken further, her heart caved completely. Still, she rested her palm against the unmarred skin of her face, a thumb gently brushing a bead of sweat. “Atarah, my beloved, my first born. . . My warrior, you must go. Go far away from this land and never return. Never turn back, not even for a glance, for he will find you and he will make your eternity Helm on Earth, do you hear me?”

Her fear tasted bitter in her tongue and she knew the shock her daughter must have felt. Once, twice, she attempted to formulate words but found none.

How could she reply when never in her days had Atarah witnessed her mother full of such hatred, such fear, such life?

“But—I need to stop him,” she said weakly, suddenly seeing and not seeing the mother she had known all those years. This woman before her was a viper, poised to strike, ready to protect. A slow smile full of cunning tugged on those perfectly crimson lips.

“And you will, but not now. Not for a long time. Now, do as I say, my child.”

Gods damn her mortal soul but Atarah followed suit behind the billowing skirts of her mother who now moved without a single ounce of the delicate maneuvers she had practiced and exerted at. No, the Queen was running through the halls, the long hair she kept neatly braided now falling off its intricate  knots.

Blinking as quickly as she could, she vowed to memorise this image. . . Whoever that woman that ran through the maze-like corridors, a wraith stealing into night, was one Atarah admired and desired to learn more from. It was one that Atarah also wished to call to in times of fear, or simply to talk about a normal occurrence. Or to be able to simply turn to her for silent comfort and call her ‘mom’.

She wanted to.

Badly.

“Stop!” a booming voice sounded behind  him and Atarah felt vile rise in her throat. “In the name of the Crown, I command you to stop!” her mother let out a colourful curse that had Atarah nearly toppling over the woman who merely pinned her with a stern gaze before straightening to look at the guard catching up to them.

The moment she slipped on the mask was one of pure art. Brows raised in a regal motion, gaze void of emotions, lips set, hands gently placed together as they floated above the skirts of the royal gown that fit her tall frame.

“Is that the tone in which you address your Queen, guard?” The voice was venom coating the mild halls of brickstones with icy command.

The man before her seemed to cringe back with a murmured curse—or a prayer.

“Apologies, your Majesty,” the title rolled off his tongue in a mocking manner that had Atarah gearing to gut him in the spot. Queen Alma simply nodded for him to state his business. “The princess and every other member of the Court is needed in the War Room. It seems there was a breach-”

“Is that why you shouted at the head of state as if dealing with mere scoundrels, is it, Colonel Rupert?”

Underneath his silver helmet Atarah could make out the wince and twinge of hatred at being recognised. Truth be told, she too was surprised her mother was able to recognise a man of her father’s troops.

“I simply abided order, your Majesty, pardon my offence and-”

“Very well,” it took monumental strength to not sputter as the Colonel grew crimson by being cut off not once, but twice during the short exchange. “Bring us to my husband, then. Make haste now.”

Panic seized her as she grabbed the Queen’s arm once the man turned around, grumbling under his breath. She knew she shouldn’t have trusted her, knew better than to-

Another stern look that had her pouting through reflex and all complaints fell silent. . .

But not before she saw the thin needle her mother produced from the hidden pockets amidst the folds of her skirts. Once, twice, thrice, she blinked at it, then up as her mother made her walk next to her, quiet, concentrated and-

And between the lightning cleaving the dry horizon with a thunderous entrance and the next moment, her mother had plunged that same needle into the man’s exposed neck, her other hand pressed firmly over his mouth as he screamed and howled but too late. Within seconds he lay unconscious on the floor, his face red.

“You. . . You killed-”

“Poison, my beloved, is not only meant to kill,” the Queen explained, as she hid the needle once more and darted back to their initial path. “It can stop a heart for a time, make one slumber deeply, even,” she said, throwing a mischievous smile that made all lines disappear from the once fair and youthful face over her shoulder. “Make anyone become irrevocably enamoured with you.”

Part of her didn’t even want to fathom how that became something she was willing to discuss so openly. Another part of her yearned to ask a thousand questions.

But down, down they went through a set of spiral stairs that began to change the lower they went. Moss and roots now cracked through the large bricks as if enraged that to find their natural passage obstructed. Moisture now clung to the walls, dripping and moulding the ceilings and walls as it saw fit.

To Atarah, this passage was new and unknown, which hindered her pace. Yet, her mother who had dashed further without looking back, torch in hand, seemed to have each pebble, each twist and turn engraved in her mind. The longer she spent behind her, the more a fear so life-altering choked her. Just what exactly had she been brought up by to realise that she didn’t even know the woman that gave her life? To witness the horrors her father was willing to impose on both mortals and not in order to gain power beyond measure? To realise that. . .

A dungeon.

They were deep within the castle, in a part long-forgotten and disposed of. Cauldrons of different sizes were thrown against the walls, as if a blast had sent them flying to dent the foundations with a rage. A dark, oily liquid poured from some, looking for all the world like a breathing organism. The cells that surrounded the cavernous space were the worst. Vats of moonlight streamed from a ceiling that she could not quite make out, but allowed one to see gears and chains that seemed to have held up numerous things on wicked hooks and the rust on them. . .

Blood.

She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

A moan from her far right nearly sent her screaming when her mother peered from the end of the space through a door opening, hushing her.

“Quiet, now.”

There was. . . there was a person down here alive?

No, she realised, as her feet reluctantly dragged her forth to the cell of polished. . .

Stone? She didn’t recognise what sort of stone shone black as the night but upon a closer look its core shone with a deep red. Curious to a fault, she reached forward, her hand a ghostly white as she touched it and immediately hissed pulling back.

It burned her.

The stone still hissed, as though annoyed it couldn’t simply reach for her and kill her.

“Alma,” that voice again came from within and Atarah frowned, her skin standing on end at the name it seemed to plead to. Her mother’s name was now being repeated in the most pain filled manner as chains rattled over the uneven surface. The sound echoed off the walls in each chamber, like nails on metal, and for once Atarah couldn’t help but step back. Maybe it was her imagination, or the fact that her nerves were neurotic with the promise of death shall she fail that night, but the darkness stirred within that cell, and seemed to come nearer. Closer, closer, and closer until a hunched figure dragged itself near enough the cell’s gate to be bathed by the torches her mother lit around the room before going to do Gods knows what.

It was a faerie.

A winged faerie whose bulking size could not be mistaken even when there was not an ounce of strength in those bones to lift him up. His hair hung in long mats against his oil slick skin. There were numerous warts, and from them oozed a pale sheen that reeked of putrid flesh and—

His wings were torn to shreds.

She didn’t know when she started heaving right in front of that cell, her efforts to stand, to put distance between herself and the tortured creature failing miserably as her stomach begged to rid them of the taste it left by scent alone.

The creature seemed to take a breath that sounded far too close to a sob. Its body raked with the effort, muscles tensing under too tight skin. Atarah’s hair was a curtain between her and the atrocity her father had created and she willed it to stay that way, to give herself a moment, an opportunity to bare the weight of this guilt, this pain. . .

“My Alma, you came,” the voice spoke again, broken and raspy however full of longing and a deep yearning that had tears welling up in Atarah’s icy blue eyes. A hand had slipped between the bars of polished stone, disregarding the scorching pain that it must be causing him completely in order to push back the mess of curls from the girl’s pale face. Once again, vile rose to her throat but she couldn’t move, couldn’t look away from the creature that spoke her mother’s name with a tenderness that shattered her. “You came, you came, you came, you came. . .”

Gods.

He didn’t have eyes.

Or at least, she thought he didn’t, for there was a strip of gauze wrapped around his head, covering the spots from where old blood had once poured freely from. It wasn’t a new dressing as it was stained with age, and worn, but she didn’t think behind it fared any better.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, not realising she was leaning towards the hand that now stroked her hair, wanting, needing to help, to protect, “I am so, so sorry.”

“Alma,” he whimpered and she could see the outlines of what once must have been a handsome face now marred forever with the years of torture and pain.

Opening her mouth to beg him to stop calling her mother’s name, to force the gates open, to do something, anything, she was wrenched away by steel hands.

“Atarah, do not touch anything here.” a hiss so terrifying spoke into her ear but she could feel the same tremors running through her mother’s body as it did hers.

“He needs our help, he needs new dressings. We need to get him out, to help him-” she was hyperventilating, she could feel it. The crushing inside of her chest, the darkness around the other cells. Souls slowly clawing their hands against the floors, the walls, clanking chains against one another. Whips falling on tender flesh, tearing and bleeding, bleeding, bleeding.

Forcibly, she was turned around and slammed into warmth and rocked with a force that made her cling like a mere babe only discovering possessing a body. Her sobs slowly drowned out the sounds of the dead, of the living, of everything that once was.

Alma’s russet coloured eyes locked with the dark spots where her soulmate’s hid behind. The prisoner trembled, having somehow regained a grip on reality that years in imprisonment had long ago stolen from him. And he saw her, saw them as one held the other in an embrace that anchored sanity before the tempest ended them all and he recognised them. Both of them claimed to him in two different but vital ways. He knew she was watching her too, because when his brow furrowed and he shakingly brought himself to his knees, he saw the Queen mass of onyx hair move as she gave him the smallest of nods.

She is.

Somewhere inside his mind, Eleazar roared for all he had lost.

[cryingasiwrite]

Okay, this will not change any aspect of this character, but I’m interested to see what y’all think

The worst part is, both of these describe this character perfectly

[fyeahpoc]

hi! first of all i'd like to say your theme looks gorgeous i love the mobile layout of the blog <3 second of all if it's not too bothersome could i please ask for first name and surname suggestions for sabrina zada/pasabist? i'm going for a floral/fairy/princess vibe if it helps with anything EDRFTGYU thank you so much and have a wonderful day!

*   hey   ,   thanks   so   much   !   and   yes   ,   absolutely   .   sab   is   filipino   and   chinese   (   my   research   says   she’s   also   hispanic   but   it’s   not   stated   specifically   what   she   is   -   edit   :   anon   said   she   is   mexican   so   also   consider   this   !   )   so   i’ll   list   a   combination   of   names   that   could   fit   your   vibe   😇

chinese   first   names   ↴

jiā   :   good   ,   auspicious   ,   beautiful   .

qiàn   :   pretty   ,   winsome   .

bao   :   gem   .

chao-xing   :   morning   star   .

mei   lien   :   beautiful   lotus   .

eu-meh   :   gorgeous   .

li   jing   :   beautiful   spirit   .

níng   :   peaceful   ,   to   pacify   .

genji   :   like   god   .

jia   li   :   good   and   beautiful   .

hee   :   lotus   flower   .

hua   :   flower   .

li-mei   :   beautiful   plum   flower   .

chinese   surnames   ↴

huang   :   yellow   .

cai   :   firewood   .

lai   :   to   trust   .

hu   :   whiskers   or   wild   .

cheng   :   complete   ,   journey   ,   honesty   .

li   :   the   plum   tree   or   logic   .

gong   :   to   give   .

kang   :   well-being   .

sun   :   a   descendant   .

xiao   :   quiet   .

you   can   find   more   from   these   masterlists   :   x   ,   x   ,   x   .

filipino   first   names   ↴

bernila   :   blessed   .

floribeth   or   lilibeth   :   flower   ,   god   is   my   promise   .

dari   :   grace   .

eleanor   :   shining   one   .

jaslene   :   flower   ,   pretty   .

dalisay   :   pure   .

atarah   :   crown   .

carmelita   :   beautiful   garden   .

mahalina   :   to   be   charmed   .

analyn   :   gracious   ,   beautiful   .

althea   :   wholesome   ,   to   heal   .

diwata   :   fairy   .

marisol   :   sunflower   .

filipino   surnames   ↴

adlawan   :   sun   .

tanglao   :   illumination   or   light   .

banaag   :   gleam   ,   daybreak   ,   reflection   .

panganoron   :   sky   .

valle   :   valley   .

cruz   :   cross   .

bulan   :   moon   .

lualhati   :   glory   .

guinto   :   gold   .

divata   :   guardian   .

you   can   find   more   from   these   masterlists   :   x   ,   x   .

—   drea   .

[prettygoodnames]

HAI! Sorry to bother but do you have any name recs for this lovely lil' lady right here?

She uses she/her pronouns, and as you can see, is trans :D oh and also some info about her:

She's Fil-Am

Very quiet and reserved, so like, sometimes comes off as rude to people who don't know her but in reality she's a cinnamon roll 🥺

Also ND! (She has ADHD)

ILOVEHERCANTYOUTELL

An expert on flower language (lmao don't think she won't know what it means when you give her sunflowers :P)

Resting 👏🏽 Bitch 👏🏽 Face 👏🏽 Queen 👏🏽 (but in this pic she's looking at her LI)

Believe it or not she took mortuary science as a major but rn she's actually an Astrochemist, don't ask me how that happened (my baby oc will develop with the story so rn this makes sense to me lmaooo)

✨ space obsessed ✨ and kind of a shitty plant mom 🤡👍

Pro gay-mer 🏳️‍🌈🎮🏳️‍⚧️ (she's very competitive and yells a LOT lot)

GAH I RAMBLED TOO MUCH IM SO SORRY BUT THERE, I entrust to you my sweet summer child 🥺 K BYE LOVE YOUUUU THANKS IN ADVANCE ❤️

(also, no one better steal her please 😭)

She's absolutely lovely and there's no need to apologize! (I literally love her lol)

Aster

Meaning: star

Origin: Latin

Related names: Astra

Atarah

Meaning: crown

Origin: Hebrew

Bellatrix

Meaning: female warrior

Origin: Latin

Bituin

Meaning: star

Origin: Tagalog

Diwata

Meaning: goddess

Origin: Tagalog

Hiraya

Meaning: imagination, vision

Origin: Tagalog

Isla

Meaning: island

Origin: Spanish

Lyka

Meaning: pretty face

Origin: Tagalog

Marikit

Meaning: beautiful, pretty

Origin: Tagalog

[fantasynamesbymeforyou]

Atarah - f (Hebrew) crown

[johnthestitcher]

I know I will probably draw a shelting (criticism) for doing this, but I had purchased a talllit (prayer shawl) that was very basic and IMHO - poorly made. I decided to re-build it. So, I ordered an atarah and four corner patches, and once I hemmed the long edges, applied them. To do so I had to remove the existing tzitzit (corner tassels), and luckily I had bought a back-up set of strings. The atarah (’crown’ strip) and the corner patches have an embroidery of houses in Jerusalem, with some silver threads.

Trying to re-tie the tzitzit from the old strings was near impossible because the tztitzit had been shortened, so I broke out the new set and re-tied them myself - the new strings were so easy to tie!

I am hoping the God is pleased with what I have done.