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ahsokasupremacy · 1 year

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Alright, here are my Top Ten funniest guesses (+1 that I bet nobody ELSE will guess) for who Inquisitor Marrok actually is!

You are most welcome to correct me or let me know who YOU think is most probable.

And just to challenge myself, I’m NOT putting Ezra. Because that would be too obvious.

1. Barriss Offee

I’m serious when I say that this is probably the most likely.

We know that she is a very important character in Ahsoka’s life, the writers could be trying to mislead us into thinking that the Force User is a man when really we have no confirmation that they are. Plus Dave Filoni has said in interviews that he refused to have the character make cameos just because he wanted to save her for later. Also, many people already speculated that Barriss became an Inquisitor after Order 66, explaining the double-sided Inquisitor lightsaber.

2. Darth Maul

Their build is a little too skinny for Darth Maul, and also wow, he must really be getting up there. And also, he died in Rebels. But when has that really ever stopped Disney from resurrecting him? I just think they should keep bringing him back. For the bit. I want the opening scroll for the upcoming Daisy Ridley movie to contain the words “Somehow, Darth Maul returned…”

3. Bo Katan

I highly doubt this because her character arc on the Mandalorian is already concluded, but I can kinda see her doing this as like, a side gig. Homegirl is probably broke from paying off Mandalore’s restoration fees. She’s not a Force User unfortunately, but when has that ever stopped her? I like to believe that Bo Katan simply woke up one day and decided to be Force Sensitive and it all kinda worked out for her somehow.

4. Lux Bonteri

If this is the option David Filoni is going with, BOOO. Yet another character who isn’t Force Sensitive. If you really think about it, Dave Filoni probably wants to include someone with an important history with Ahsoka, someone close to her that she held dear and that betrayed her and that she still has lingering feelings for.

Well actually that person is Barriss, and yknow, she kinda went MIA. Sooo the next best thing we could get is Lux, I guess!

5. Anakin (Force Ghost)

Daaaad, what are you doing here?

Well, the ghosts of Obi-Wan and Yoda told him to fuck off and get a job. So here he is. He’s putting in the work! He’s logging onto his Zoom! Ahsoka is gonna be sooo surprised when he finally takes off the mask and reveals it was him along. Just you wait! It’s gonna be so funny!

6. Korkie Kryze

Now we’re really starting to get big brained here.

In Legends, we have Jacen Solo. In the sequels, we have Kylo Ren.

But in the Brand New Republic era? Hark, a new villain arises. Korkie is embittered about being left behind and forgotten by his biological parents, Satine and Obi-Wan. And now he is out for revenge against all the Force Users and Mandalorians who abandoned him. Mwahahaha. We should’ve known he would turn out like this, he’s a ginger after all.

7. Ventress

This would technically make Dark Disciple non-canon? But I don't think Dave Filoni cares, considering he hilariously made the Ahsoka novel non-canon. Ventress is obviously very powerful and capable of dual-wielding and she would make a great candidate for an Inquisitor. Plus her and Morgan Elsbeth are both former Nightsisters so points for rapport.

8. Anakin’s Evil Clone

Hey, I mean Palpatine HAD to start somewhere, right? He didn’t just create Snoke without practice. I like to think he tried making a second Anakin at first, only to discover that Clonakin was a huge pain in the ass and doesn’t wanna follow orders just sit on the couch all day eating the space equivalent of Hot Cheetos.

9. Cal Kestis but he’s evil now

This one pretty much goes against everything we know about Cal but hey, I’ll take a live action Cal cameo any day now. I’ve been on the frontlines defending my babygirl Anakin since day one, don’t even try to lecture me about the ethics of stanning Darksider Cal.

9. Mara Jade

OK no more messing around!! I'm serious this time!

EVERYONE LISTEN CLOSELY!

I think the reason why Dave hasn't made any references to Eli, or Ar'alani, or Vahnya must be because he grew up on the 80s Legends trilogy (not the canon trilogy). Whenever Thrawn is mentioned, there is a direct reference to Heir to the Empire. The same novel where Mara Jade is introduced as the Hand of the Emperor. Coincidence? I think not! Obviously, this must be part of Dave Filoni's master plan to softlaunch the upcoming top secret Thrawn series adaptation.

10. Starkiller

My only real proof is that his name (Marek, Marrok) kinda sounds similar?

Making Starkiller canon would create a whole bunch of problems for the Star Wars timeline. I think his origin story is too Mary Sue-y for even Dave Filoni to try and integrate into current canon.

However, it would be interesting to see a showdown between Anakin's two former apprentices. Interesting, but unlikely.

And finally, for my last guess, I will tell you exactly who Marrok REALLY is. Kathleen Kennedy told me personally, so don't get mad at me! She said it, not me!

11. Luuke (the clone Palpatine made out of Luke's dismembered hand)

This is the ONLY correct answer.

Us Timothy Zahn enjoyers know that this was really Luuke all along. I told you, Snoke isn't the first clone that Palpatine made! I imagine he had a lot of downtime and got bored and decided to fuck around, and that's how we got Luuke.

And yes, I would cast Sebastian Stan to play him because I'm petty AF.

#ahsoka #ahsoka show #barriss offee #lux bonteri #anakin skywalker #eli vanto #thrawn #mara jade #bo katan kryze #cal kestis #korkie kryze #darth maul #my post #ventress

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donnerpartyofone · 1 year

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This has been a really hard one to talk about. I'm always very ambivalent about mourning celebrities. I try to remember that I don't know these people, that what is really mourned by most of us is the person's ongoing work, which in the best cases has helped us understand ourselves and the world in which we live. Unavoidably, though, you can start to develop the sense that you know these people personally, which isn't true or even appropriate necessarily, I mean you have no idea whether you would even like someone you've only seen on a screen or received an autograph from; but at the same time, I don't know if you can really force yourself not to feel like the deceased celebrity is a dear friend you will never get to talk to again (the last time I tried and failed was the passing of Lux Interior). Maybe this is more forgivable, and also more inevitable, if you feel like you grew up with the person.

Of course this is all about ME now, but my mother (who also died from cancer) was an extremely hip, brilliant, funny individual who for whatever reason refused to form a relationship with me. This was pretty strange, because we liked a lot of the same things--B movies, old comics, all types of camp and kitsch--but when I liked those things, it was in poor taste and punishable by exile, whereas when she liked those things, it was evidence of her cultural genius. Before I make anybody too mad I should say that I'm being a little bit unfairly reductive just so I can get to the point, which is that one of the few things we could share was Pee-Wee's Playhouse. I didn't know anything about the show's more adult origins or the fact that Paul Reubens was sort of a performance artist, but I didn't have to. Pee-Wee's Playhouse was a feast for any child's senses: stylish, hilarious, and on some subliminal level, really sophisticated. I was clued into some of what was going on just because I watched it with my mom, who always laughed at Pee-Wee's winks and nudges to the hep parents in the audience. The show might have been my first encounter with the kind of anthropological humor favored by people like David Byrne and Laurie Anderson, artists who engage subversively with cliches, stereotypes, and other memetic parts of popular culture. In Pee-Wee's Playhouse, with its sharp, edgy cast and crew, kids like me were getting into fine art without even knowing it--which is possibly the best way to learn about art anyway.

In fact, on the other side of our house, I became obsessed with Gary Panter's incredible punk opus Jimbo In Paradise, a Dantesque comic book about an innocent young guy living in a dystopian future, where he is occasionally joined by guest stars such as Nancy and Hedorah. I was about 7 when I started reading Jimbo over and over again even though I could barely understand it, and I had no idea that Gary had pretty much designed Pee-Wee's Playhouse. I'm speaking about him so familiarly because I got to know him a little bit as a grownup. I remember Gary talking about how private Paul Reubens could be. He used to do this thing where he would accept a dinner invitation from anybody who asked, as sort of a stunt, but he had to stop doing it because people became so intrusive and entitled with him. Gary said that they'd be walking around in New York and when they saw an obvious Pee-Wee fan gearing up for an offensive, Paul Reubens would sort of transform into this totally different person, putting out an aura that let you know not to fuck with him. It's crazy-making to think that someone who was so protective of the boundary between his private and public selves had to suffer that ridiculous arrest, but it's heartening that most of society eventually grew the fuck up and forgot about it. It's also helpful to remember when he turned up later on the MTV Music Video Awards and started off by asking the audience, "HEARD ANY GOOD JOKES LATELY??"

I'm glad we got one more Pee-Wee special in the past several years, but I always wished that we would see Paul Reubens in more movies. He was such a cool actor, funny, convincing, and naturally charismatic. While people are cycling through their favorite roles of his, I want to point out that he had a great role on a recent HBO miniseries called Mosaic, an intense, engrossing crime drama that I definitely recommend if you have access. Maybe I'll rewatch it, too. In closing, here's a great story that I grabbed from Facebook that should warm everybody's heart, along with the heartbreaking statement (inappropriately cropped by Instagram of course) released upon the death of the very private Pee-Wee Herman. It makes you wish you could thank him in person, for everything. The best we can do is just remember him.

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janiehellion · 2 months

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Of Curves & Seraphim

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Finally finding peace in your new home away from Los Angeles, you thought you had left the hurtful memories behind. But when Lucifer returns, his remorse and desire for redemption open up old and new wounds. Can the Devil himself heal the pain and help you understand what it means to fall and rise up again?

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR X FEMALE!PLUSSIZE!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: FLUFF / HURT / COMFORT

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.309

MASTERLIST

You were home. Your new home.

It was quiet there, like a sanctuary that kept you away from the harsh world outside. You felt safe here, wrapped in a cocoon of loneliness, far from the eyes of hate and whispers that had hunted you, far away from that city that haunted you: Los Angeles.

Your body, which was a battleground for your insecurities, now seemed to have found peace in the silence of this new place. It had taken you months to build this safe haven and to find comfort in yourself, despite the scars of self-hatred that still came out every now and then when you looked into the mirror. The loneliness had weighed heavily on you, but you learned to accustom yourself to it and to live with it, and frankly, in a weird kind of way, you started to love it.

But tonight was different. Tonight, the silence was broken by a voice from the past.

"May I come in, please?"

Lucifer stood at your doorstep, his usual confidence sincere and vulnerable. It had been months since you'd last seen him; since you'd fled the city, you'd fled from memories of him. He was a part of your life then, a part of the pain, someone standing in shadows.

He was very different now from what he used to be. Where was that Devil you had come to know, the one full of power and charm? His eyes were looking into yours, not with their usual confidence but instead with a rather sincere and vulnerable look, and it was impossible to ignore.

"Why are you here? After all this time?" Your voice was neutral, but your heart was racing in your chest.

"I needed to see you," he said softly, his eyes locking onto yours with a look that was almost pleading.

A bitter laugh escaped you. "I didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that... I mean, it’s clear that you're standing here because of me, but... you know?"

"I don’t think I understand, my dear," he replied with confusion in his voice.

You took a deep breath, struggling to keep your emotions in check. "You never liked me, Lucifer. Why... why do you want to see me now? Out of nowhere?"

He seemed to be searching for the right words. "You’re wrong. The moment you left the LUX and Los Angeles, I realized and saw you for who you really are, and I regret pushing you away. I was blind."

Your eyes searched his face, trying to find the devilish charm you remembered. But instead, you saw a man stripped of any arrogance.

"That night... that last night," he continued, "when we held each other close, half-drunk, and when we were laughing without any care in the world, I saw something in you that I wanted to get to know better and feel closer to me."

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch your cheek. "Do you remember that night? The night where you suddenly took my hand and held it? I felt a connection that I had been too proud to even acknowledge."

You nodded, the memory coming back to you. "I didn’t want to remember it. I guess I was just very upset in the end, after all."

"Upset?" He repeated the word with confusion and disbelief. "Darling, you were more than upset. You were breaking apart inside, heart and soul, and I couldn’t even see it. I didn't even notice..."

He stepped closer again, his hand moving to stroke your arm gently.

"Why are you here?" You asked again, your voice trembling with hope and fear at the same time.

"Because of the last event at the LUX," he said, his eyes searching yours for understanding. "I saw you there, and thinking back, it made me realize how much I had lost. I saw the pain in your eyes that night—the way you tried to hide from me and from everyone in shame. And I knew I had to do something. It made me think..."

You struggled to understand his words; your heart was torn between the past hurt and the present yearning. "But you didn't do anything, Lucifer."

He sighed deeply. "Listen... That night? Everything was perfect from the outside, but there was no soul, no fire. It was as if the whole night was fake, and I had missed the chance to actually get to know you and understand you."

Silence fell between you, now only filled by your little and almost quiet sobs.

"You understand me truly," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "No one else ever really has. You saw right through my mask and understood the devil behind the charm. So, let me at least ask you: How did you do it?"

You eyed him as you were looking at the man with a face pitied through all times, hiding behind masks and illusions. "I spent time with you, trying to see beyond your devilish façade. I saw the darkness you hide, and not only the anger, but more the pain you carry within."

He reached out to take your hand, his touch gentle yet insistent. “I have spent so many nights regretting my decisions, wishing I had taken the chance when I had it. But now... now I want to make something right."

He had taken your hand and pressed a soft kiss against your skin. "I want to show you how much you mean to me and how much I have come to desire you."

"What do you want from me, Lucifer?"

He took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours. "I want you to see yourself the way that I see you."

At that, he pulled you closer, and his lips brushed against yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. You felt the heat of his mouth and the tenderness of his touch as he pulled you near, to which you answered with your own lips parting so that his tongue could press against yours.

"You were so beautiful that night," he murmured against your lips once he pulled away a little bit.

You smiled softly, a smile that was half-joyful and half-sad. "No, please don't say that. I... I don't know about that, really."

"No. It was me. I didn’t know," he admitted, his fingers gently stroking your cheek. "But I do now. I want to show you that you are beautiful and that you are worth loving."

His hands moved to your waist, pushing you inside your home, and he soon made you sit down gently on the couch in your living room, his fingers grabbing the edges of your clothing and slowly removing them with care.

When you were finally naked before him, he took a moment to appreciate the sight of your body. "You are perfect," he whispered. "More than I'd ever deserve."

He got down, his lips trailing kisses along your neck, your shoulders, and your breasts. His touch was light but filled with a certain hunger that made you shiver.

"I want to show you how much I need you," he whispered against your skin, his voice a low growl.

Without breaking eye contact, he pushed you back onto the couch and quickly moved between your legs, his eyes wandering over your body, before he leaned in and began to tease you. His tongue licked your clit, and his fingers gently explored your pussy soon after. And he took his time, watching every reaction and every moan that escaped your mouth.

"Are you feeling okay?" He whispered. "Tell me if there’s anything you need. I want this to be perfect for you."

You swallowed hard, and the lump in your throat was almost too big to ignore. "I think... I think I just need you to be here," you whispered back. "To hold me, to show me that I’m not just a burden, that I’m worth something."

He nodded slowly with a small, but somewhat sad, smile. "Darling, I’m here because I want to be here. I want to be the one to show you how much you mean to me and how much you are worth."

His fingers followed the curves of your waist, the curves of your hips, and the softness of your thighs.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "Every inch of you is perfect, just the way you are."

You shivered at his words, him being so close and sending a thrill through you. "Do you actually really mean that?" you asked, your voice trembling.

"I do," he said, pulling you closer to him. "You are everything I’ve ever wanted. I see you, not just your body but your heart and soul."

He kissed you again, and his hand cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had started to fall from your eyes.

"I’ve missed you so much," he whispered against your lips. "I’ve missed you more than anything."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. "I’ve missed you too," you admitted, your voice sounding muffled against his skin. "I’ve felt so lost without you."

Lucifer began to kiss you again, his lips now going down your neck, across your collarbone, and to your breasts.

"You’re so lovely," he murmured between kisses. "Every part of you is perfect. I want to worship you."

He continued his slow exploration of your body, his hands moving to your stomach, your hips, and your thighs, before he gently moved between your legs again, his hands parting your legs again.

"I can’t get enough of you." He leaned in, his lips brushing against your inner thigh, before he soon enough pushed two fingers inside of you. "You feel so good."

You sighed in pleasure, your body moving in rhythm with his. "You make me feel so beautiful right now," you moaned. "I never knew I could feel like this."

His eyes softened, and he leaned in to kiss you gently on the lips. "I’m glad," he said, his lips brushing against yours. "You deserve to feel loved."

As the time went on, your own movements became slightly more urgent, your body tensing up. Lucifer saw that you were getting close, but he held back from fingering you faster, making sure that your own pace was his main focus.

"Are you close?" he asked softly.

"Yes," you whispered back, your body trembling slightly. "I’m so close."

"Let go," he urged you gently. "Let yourself feel it."

And you did, allowing your orgasm to happen as you clung to him, your body clenching around his fingers that were still deep inside of you while his other hand held you close.

"Just like that," he murmured. "Let it all out."

You gasped, your body arching against him as the feeling overtook you, but as soon as your orgasm slowly ended, you found yourself wrapped in Lucifer’s arms, your body resting against his and out of breath.

"That... That felt incredible," you whispered, your hands stroking his back. "Thank you for making me feel this way."

Lucifer smiled down at you. "Let me take care of you some more then."

He carefully got up from the couch after he pushed himself away from you. "Come with me," he said, extending his hand to you.

You took his hand, allowing him to guide you to the bathroom.

"How about you enjoy a bath?" Lucifer asked.

You nodded, and soon enough, he helped you into a hot bath, the warm water relaxing your body.

"I want you to relax," he said, his voice gentle as he ran his fingers through your hair before he sat on the edge of the tub, his hands gently massaging your shoulders. "You deserve to feel this way," he said. "You’ve been through so much, and you need to know that you’re loved."

His hands moved carefully, not wanting to hurt you, kneading away the knots and tension in your muscles, and his fingers were applying just the right amount of pressure to make you feel calmer and cared for.

"You’re so strong," he murmured. "I know you’ve had to deal with a lot, but you’ve come through it all with such grace, you know?"

You sighed, your eyes opening up to meet his gaze as you looked over your shoulder at him. "It hasn’t always been easy," you admitted. "But having you here by my side again makes everything better right now."

Lucifer smiled, reached for a washcloth, and gently began to wash your body, making sure every touch was soft and comfortable on your skin. "I want you to know that every part and every inch of your body is perfect to me."

Once he had finished washing you, he took a dry towel and carefully patted your skin dry after guiding you out of the bathtub. He took your hand and guided you back to your couch in the living room.

"Let me quickly get something from your kitchen. I’ll be right back," he said, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before leaving the room.

He returned a few minutes later with a tray of treats: fresh fruit, chocolate, and a cup of warm tea, setting it down beside you on the coffee table.

"I thought you might enjoy a little snack, so I robbed your fridge," he said with a laugh. "And don't you dare to refuse the chocolate."

As you reached for a piece of chocolate, you couldn't help but listen to the thoughts that were coming back to your mind.

"I shouldn't be eating this," you mumbled, staring at the chocolate in your hand. "It's no wonder I look the way I do. Disgusting."

Lucifer's eyes suddenly snapped to yours, showing a hint of anger. "Don't say that."

But you ignored him, unable to stop. "Look at me, Lucifer. I'm not like those perfect women you see every day. I'm... I'm fat. Ugly. Who would even want this?" You gestured at your body with disgust.

His jaw tightened, and he sat down on the couch as well. "Stop it."

But you couldn't simply stop. All the self-hatred you had kept hidden away came out. "No! I hate my body! I hate the way my stomach looks when I sit down. I hate my thighs, my arms, and my face. I hate the way clothes fit me or don't fit me. I'll never be good enough, whether I lose weight or not. I'll always be the fat girl that people look at with pity or disgust. The doctors? They tell me I'm all healthy, sure, but others? They don't! They judge me beforehand, and you know what? They're right!"

Lucifer's expression darkened, and he gripped your shoulders tightly to make you look at him. "Listen. You are not disgusting. You are not ugly. And you are not unworthy of love."

You let out a bitter laugh, and the tears are now rolling down and over your face. "And how can I see anything good when all I see is failure? Imperfection? Worthlessness?"

Lucifer's grip tightened even more, just slightly, his eyes burning. "You are human. You have imperfections, but those are what make you human, what make you... you! And I love you for all of it. Every single inch of your body."

"Stop it! You don't love it! I hate my stomach. I hate how it folds and feels. I hate how it looks when I sit down and how it spills over my jeans. I hate my thighs—how they touch and rub together, how they look when I walk. I hate my arms—how flabby and big they are; how I can't wear sleeveless tops without feeling like everyone is staring at them, laughing their asses off!"

You inhaled and exhaled deeply, but the words kept coming. "I hate my face—how round it is, how I have this damn double chin that never goes away no matter how much weight I lose! I hate my stretch marks, my cellulite, and all these fucking things that remind me every single day that I'm not good enough! I hate that when I look in the mirror, all I see is someone who doesn't deserve to be loved! Someone who's only ever been judged and hated because of how they look! And I deserve it!"

Lucifer's eyes narrowed, but he didn't interrupt you yet. He let you get everything out, his hands still holding you by your shoulders.

"And you know what else?" You continued, your voice rising. "I hate that I'm constantly comparing myself to others. I hate that I'm always thinking about my weight, about calories, and about how many I'm actually eating, even though I know that a piece of chocolate won't do me any damn harm! I hate that I can't just enjoy any kind of food without feeling guilty about it! I hate that no matter how hard I try, I always end up back here, hating myself!"

Tears streamed down your face now, and your voice broke. "I hate that I'm trapped in this body. I hate that I can't escape it, that I can't just rip it off and be someone else. I hate that every time I look at myself, I see failure. A worthless fucking loser. Someone who's not worthy of love, happiness, or anything that's good. I hate that I'm always going to be the fat pig. The pig everyone looks at with hate and disgust. Do you know what it’s like to hate every inch of your own body? Of yourself?" You continued while you still held the piece of chocolate in your hand that was slowly melting already. "To look in the mirror and despise the reflection that's staring back at you? You know... worthlessness? It’s not just a feeling; it’s a daily reality to me."

"Stop," Lucifer commanded, but you were too far gone to even listen to him anymore.

"No, you need to understand, Lucifer! I’ve spent my whole life being told I’m not good enough because of how I look! I’m too fat, too ugly, and too much of everything that no one likes! And I can’t escape it."

Lucifer finally let go of your shoulders and clenched his fists, his frustration now boiling over and his true self showing through.

"Enough!" he yelled, the living room seeming to darken due to his anger. "Do you think you’re the only one who knows what self-hatred feels like? Do you think I’ve never looked in the mirror and despised the creature that's staring back at me? The Devil, condemned to eternal damnation, hated by everyone, including myself!"

His sudden angry outburst shocked you into silence, your sobs stopping slowly as you looked at him a bit in fear. And you knew that you truly looked at the Devil for the first time at that moment.

"For millennia, I’ve been the symbol of sin, the embodiment of everything vile! I’ve carried the weight of my Father’s rejection and of my own choices, and it’s left scars deeper than Hell itself!"

He roughly cupped your face. "You need to understand. You’re not alone in this. Your pain, your self-hatred—I get it! I understand it! I’ve lived it, and I still do. And it’s why I can tell you with absolute certainty that you’re worth so much more than you believe!"

You shook your head, still feeling trapped in your despair. "How can you even say that?"

"Because I see you," he whispered, finally calming down again. "And I feel you."

He kissed your forehead, holding you closer now.

"And you know," Lucifer said, "sometimes it takes the Devil to understand what it means to struggle with one’s own nature. Sometimes, it’s the fallen who see the truth of what it means to rise again."

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once-in-a-blood-moon · 10 months

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9 Days of Solomon: Stars

Solomon x GN! reader

Summary: Solomon teaches you a spell that allows you to hold a star in your hands.

AN: Hello hello! I'm a day late posting this for the stars prompt, but better late than never, right? I kinda based this fic off of my other fic, Lux Astrorum, but this one can be read as a stand alone! :)

Warnings: None

“So, how does one hold a star in their hand?”

Solomon had his nose buried in an old tome of his as he quickly scanned through to find the incantation he used so very long ago to summon a star into his own awaiting palm. That was when he was still young, when his adolescent view of the world guided him through his magical pursuits. When everything was new and exciting.

He hums softly, mindlessly, as his eyes scan along the scribbled lines to acknowledge your question. “Well, there are many variations in most magical practices that will essentially give you the same result. It mostly depends on your style and level of sorcery.”

In his peripheral vision, he sees the slow nod of your head and hears the soft click of your tongue. “Sure, I got that. But how did you do it?”

“Patience, my dear apprentice.” He chides with a soft chuckle while wetting the tip of his finger to aid in flipping the page. “Patience is a virtue, as the saying goes. And it’s a virtue you should know well.”

A small sigh of impatience from you causes Solomon’s lips to curl up even further and a quick huff of amusement to be pushed from his nose. Truly, he’s pleased to know you’re excited to learn something new. And he’s always excited to be the one to teach you. It’s an opportunity to spend more time with the person he holds dearest – and alone at that.

With a quick pivot on the balls of his feet, he turns to you once he’s glanced over the incantation to jog his memory. “It’s a bit of an advanced spell, only because it uses quite a bit of energy, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. First, you’ll need to draw a protection circle on the floor so that you are able to withstand the heat of the star,” he fishes for a piece of white chalk from his pocket and hands it to you, “the protection spell will also work to protect your eyes from the searing light.”

He’s long taught you how to make a protection circle, and he knows you’re quite proficient in drawing them. So it takes no time for you to be standing in the middle of a circle with odd symbols and lines surrounding the perimeter with an even bigger circle encompassing that one with its own intricate runes around it. Solomon nods with a satisfied smile at your work.

“Good. Next, you must ground yourself. Set your intention to what you wish to accomplish with this spell. And prepare your mind and body for the amount of energy this spell will consume.”

Your eyes flutter shut, taking a moment to focus your mind and body, to prepare yourself to achieve the effects of this spell. Solomon observes quietly during your brief moment of meditation; your steadied breathing, your muscles relaxing their tension, and the way you plant your feet firmly on the floor to allow yourself to feel the energy buzzing through your veins. It’s something he’s done countless times, but to see you do it makes the process ten times more fascinating to him.

With a deep inhale, you open your eyes to meet his which are bright and full of pride for you and how far you’ve come. His smile never once wavers as he gazes at you.

“And lastly, you need to recite these words: ‘Hear me! And bring forth a star to shine its light upon my skin. May it rest safely within the palms of my hands. Let it be so.’ Remember to enunciate the words properly.”

You nod in response, taking a few more calming breaths to focus on the task at hand. Solomon knows you want to get this right on the first try, he can see the determination swirling in your irises. He wishes to give one last encouragement before you say the incantation, so in a deep, but gentle vibrato, he whispers,

“You can do it. I believe in you.”

He feels his heart jump and beat rapidly when you exchange his words for a loving smile, one that causes stars of your own to sparkle in your eyes. If you weren’t about to perform a spell or weren’t in the middle of a circle he’d most definitely smudge in his haste to get to you, he would’ve kissed you right then and there.

Your voice suddenly cuts through his romantic daydreams, clearly and firmly. “Hear me! And bring forth a star to shine its light upon my skin. May it rest safely within the palms of my hands. Let it be so.” Your hands are held out in front of you, ready to receive the celestial body you called for.

Instantly, a blinding flash of light erupts from above your hands and a strong gust of wind spirals wildly around you. The force of the winds causes Solomon to stumble back but he catches himself before he can fall, bracing himself with one leg behind him for support while simultaneously shielding his eyes from the intensity of the spell with his arm. The air is sweltering and dry, like that of a forest fire. His coat flaps violently around him, his hair doing much of the same.

It takes a moment for the light and wind to condense rapidly into a sizable ball, calmly hovering right above your palms. It flickers softly while warm air emits just around its surface.

It’s a star. Your star.

Solomon takes a moment to collect himself, standing up properly and brushing his hair down so it doesn’t look as unkempt. He glances up to where you stand in the circle to check on your well-being, and that’s when he sees it. The most beautiful sight he’s ever had the pleasure of witnessing – you, holding the star as you silently gaze at it with pure and utter awe. It’s as if your breath has been taken away, and it very well might’ve. The way the light illuminates your features is nothing short of magnificent. Magical even.

This is all he cares about. Seeing you in awe of something your own magic created, magic that he had a part in cultivating… well, it certainly takes his breath away.

“What do you think?”

You peel your attention away from the glowing orb, glancing just beyond it slightly to his figure that seems to be shadowed by your fascination with the entity in your hands. “I… this is amazing.” Your focus snaps right back to the star. “I’m actually holding a star. Solomon, I’m actually holding an actual star!”

A hearty chuckle is drawn deep within his chest. How adorable. “Yes, you are actually holding a star. And I couldn’t be prouder.” He smiles fondly as he watches on, muttering something softly under his breath that you don’t catch as you’re too busy studying the star.

“And you are absolutely wonderful.”

#9DaysofSolomon #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader #jo writes

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tiaramania · 1 year

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Infanta Maria Francisca's Wedding Tiara

The Duke and Duchess of Braganza have announced that the wedding of Infanta Maria Francisca, Duchess of Coimbra, and Duarte de Sousa Araújo Martins will take place on Saturday, October 7th at the Basilica of Our Lady and Saint Anthony within the Palace of Mafra. Thanks to an interview with Observador, we know all about the bride's planned wedding jewelry. The quotes below have been run through Google translate.

Infanta Maria Francisca will wear Queen Amélie’s Diamond Tiara which is the same one worn by her mother, the Duchess of Braganza, at her wedding in 1995. "I feel very honored, very lucky, that they lent it to me, because it is a very valuable tiara. I feel that I am not that worthy of wearing the tiara and I am really happy that they gave me this opportunity." I don't have a post on it yet but here are some from other blogs. It was made in 1886 by Leitão & Irmão and was a wedding gift to Queen Amélie from her father-in-law, King Luís I of Portugal, so you'll sometimes see it called the Dom Luis Diadem.

Along with the tiara, Maria Francisca will wear the same diamond earrings that were worn by her mother on her wedding day. They were a gift from the Duchess of Braganza's mother, Raquel Pinheiro de Castro Curvello.

Maria Francisca will also wear a sapphire and diamond bracelet that belonged to Queen Amélie on loan from a friend. "A very dear friend of mine, who has an antique shop, is going to lend me a Queen Amélie bracelet. He told me 'I have this bracelet from Queen Amélie that I bought at an auction house and I insist that you wear it because it belongs to your family and has sentimental and historical value'."

For the reception after the wedding, Maria Francisca will wear a pair of earrings that belonged to her grandmother and namesake, Princess Maria Francisca of Orléans-Braganza. The diamond from her engagement ring was taken from these earrings and the groom replaced it and another diamond with emeralds. "Both in the ring and in the earrings, I have my grandmother Francisca and Duarte represented."

The former Portuguese royal family are generally well regarded and even attend state banquets in Portugal. We already know that some of the Lux royals will be there and I also expect other former royals to attend.

The wedding will be televised at 3:00pm local time on TVI (Televisão Independente) and I'll post a non-geoblocked link if I can find one.

#Tiara Talk #Infanta Maria Francisca #Portugal #Portuguese Royal Family #tiara #bridal tiara #Duchess of Braganza #royal jewels #royalty #royals #diadem

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amillieaway · 2 years

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prompt: meet me at midnight

“If I were a character in one of your books, who do you suppose I would be?”

Draco roamed the fire-lit room, running his fingers over burgundy and sage spines with silver and golden letters that reflected the flick of the flames.

Hermione lowered her novel to her blanket-covered thighs, chewing her lower lip. “Hm… The cruel prince, perhaps, cursed for his wickedness. Given a year and a day to find the love of his life to undo the spell.”

“Rather drab, isn’t it? Expecting a man to fall in love to repent his sins. What if he were to donate a fair amount of his fortune to charity? Or devote his time to brewing potions that cure deadly diseases?”

She shot him an affectionate look, though he was facing away from her and couldn’t see it. “Who do you think you’d be, then?”

He made a soft deliberating noise. “A romantic hero.”

She burst into laughter.

Draco tossed an irritated look over his shoulder, lips quirking. “I’m rather romantic, thank you very much.”

“Rather,” she confirmed, sitting taller and wrapping her arms around her knees. “Please go on, my romantic hero.”

“Yours then?” He lifted a brow, though they both knew he’d never truly belong to anyone else. “I’d be the sort who’s unliked by most. Underestimated always. I would lurk in the shadows and commit petty crimes for the fun of it. But also slip notes to the healer’s daughter, asking her to meet me at midnight so we can run away together.”

“And pray tell, where would you take her?”

He sat at the end of the spacious sofa, tugging her calf until she stretched her legs over his lap. His hand slipped beneath the blanket, thumb tracing a halfmoon over her bare kneecap.

“Anywhere she wanted to go,” he decided in a velvety voice. “I’m a romantic hero, remember? I care only for my runaway girl.”

“But she loves his ambition the best. The last thing she wants is a quiet life in the countryside. Or else she would have married her childhood sweetheart and had ten children on a duck farm.”

Draco wrinkled his nose.

“I’d make a fine prince, I suppose. Though not a cruel one.”

“No?”

He shook his head. “A rebel prince, but not the heir. A devilish spare. So I could marry the bookish maiden who rescues kittens from rainstorms and hands out loaves of bread to hungry children.”

“Not very rebellious of you. She sounds like a saint.”

“There’s a twist.”

“Isn’t there always?” Hermione was grinning widely now.

“She’s cursed, you see.”

“Oh dear.”

“She becomes a monster at night. Grows ravenous and eats his favourite pudding and demands he shag her until he can’t feel his bones.” He shot a pointed look at the lux cauldron cakes spread out on the rustic coffee table, more than half devoured alongside a pint of sparkling lemon cordial.

“Our poor prince.” She tutted, kicking his thigh with a mock-derisive look. “Perhaps she leaves him then. When he’s boneless and his pantry empty.”

“One would think…” He released her leg, encircling her wrist instead and coaxing her onto his lap. “But she loves him terribly.” His eyes grew soft, shining nearly as bright as the gilded storybooks encompassing them. “And he’s an ambitious bloke, remember?”

“Ambitious and romantic.”

He hummed in agreement, gaze dropping to her mouth. “He would do anything, give anything for her.”

“Anything?” she breathed, curling a lock of blond hair around her finger dotingly.

“He’d be anything for her,” he resumed, leaning into her touch. “The hero in every novel, or the villain if she wishes. The prince, the rebel, the romantic.”

The distinct, melodious chime of the antique grandfather clock resounded around them.

Twelve bold strikes as her prince, rebel, romantic spilled kisses over her like adventures on a page, one for every possibility, and one for the simple truth.

#amillieaway #dramione drabble #draco x hermione #dramione

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canon-vi · 7 months

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I decided to remake Taisiya and change her age, because otherwise the other characters are too old—

--------------------------🦊----------------------------

Name: Taisiya

Height: 156

Age: 11-12

Birthday: June 7

--------------------------🦊----------------------------

•

Taisiya has many witch outfits for Halloween, she does not dare to wear them, but often wears witch hats in the room

•

She made herself a pendant from a stone she liked, which she found on the riverside

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Tasya has a problem with trust, but not in the sense that she cannot trust, but in the sense that she is too trusting, she will step on the same rake with the same person

•

Unlike the original Taisiya, this one braids her hair because of Passivmare's stories about Hope

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She will always reach out and trust her relatives, no matter how Passivmare scolds them, Taisiya will always love them

•

Age difference with Lux - 13 years

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Taisiya wants to move to the forest or a village remote from everyone, but suppresses this desire because she wants to be close to her family

•

Unlike the original version, this Taisiya can see the outline of Passivmer, but only the outline

--------------------------🦊----------------------------

Taisiya’s attitude towards the others:

Dream:

Papa is kind, he definitely wouldn’t want my mom to die, maybe he didn’t know that this could happen? Even uncle blames him...

Hope:

I would also like to see and hear mom live, it’s a pity this is impossible

Ink:

It seems to me that calling Miss Ink mom is slightly insulting towards Lux and Pallete, even if I want to, I’ll endure it

Passivemare:

It’s very fun and pleasant to spend time with my uncle, and he also protects me, I love him very much

Nightmare:

His Majesty is also very kind, but uncle doesn’t like him very much, so I’d better beware of him

Killer:

She apparently loved my mom very much, since she tells me all those stories, it’s very pleasant to listen to them

Cross:

Miss Killer spoke well of him, and they say his baked goods are delicious, I’ll have to go see him when there are not many people around... I hope such a moment will come

Reaper:

I’m sorry that my uncle harmed them because of me, I’ll need to give them some kind of gift as an apology, I just have to figure out what

Geno:

I will also need to make a gift for Miss Geno, and for Miss Goth, I will make them all a talisman! All that remains is to find the materials

Callisto:

Big brother cares and loves me, but I can still see the sadness in his eyes, he must have loved mom very much

Crescent:

He always smells of candles and something else, every time I feel bad from this smell, it seems to me that I can only communicate with him in a gas mask

Merciless:

I try to avoid him, it’s clear how uncomfortable he is with me, mom was probably dear to him too

Lux:

She doesn't like it when I call her sister so I call her Miss Lux, I don't think she loves me, I heard Lux loved mom very much, I'm sorry

Pallete:

My brother is uncomfortable around me, so I try not to be near him for a long time, I don’t want to bother him

Goth:

Miss Goth suffered a lot because of me, I will need to make her a talisman against evil spirits, will she definitely forgive me if I give her one?

Drop:

She always tries to protect me, it's very nice, I love my sister, and Drop, and Lux

Bonus:

Artemis: ( by @itzcherrybonbon / @abloomingsunflower )

She's so sad when she sees me, do I remind her so much of my mom? Uncle said that mom always wore a braid, so maybe it would be better to wear a ponytail? Or cut my hair completely...

Vivi:

She doesn’t come to me often, most often she is with Miss Lux, she also told me that she comes to me in secret from Miss Lux, but she still comes, she listens very well, I like to tell her about what I read about witches and herbs

Sunshine: ( by @il1ketulipz )

It's very nice of her to come to me and listen to my stories, although she should be helping Pallete and Drop

--------------------------🦊----------------------------

six and eleven year old Tasya(just because I want so):

Now Tasya wears shorts, because running through the forest in a skirt is not very comfortable (tested by experience)

--------------------------🦊----------------------------

E. L. A. by our pretty flower: @anotherrosesthatfell

#evil lux au #what if au #taisiya [e.l.a]#protect and cherish [e.l.a] merciless propaganda

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