#its a death she has earned and desired

[dapper-lil-arts]

SHE MADE IT FINALLY!! APPLAUSE

Kissing Sunset challenge; The short people struggle

Excellent hustle as usual, Pinkie! Good work out there, great form!

Good work Twilight, smart as always, excellent form!

Trixie, absolutely shameful display, no upper body strength at all, hit the showers 👉

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x Ofc!Princess Reader)

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I. Heal the Heart 

Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, nescio. Sed fieri sentior et excrucior.  I love you and I hate you.  Why I do this, I have no idea.  But I feel it happening and I’m in agony. [Catullus]

Following the conquest of Egypt and its incorporation into the Roman Empire, there was a growing interest in its ancient culture. Over time, many in Egypt began to express a desire for greater autonomy and control over their own affairs. Dissatisfaction with Roman control over Egypt became part of the Egyptian psyche.

This is precisely why, immediately after the death of Emperor Septimius Severus, preparations for revolt began in Egypt. His emperor sons Caracella and Geta were already doing little else but quarreling with each other, drinking and having fun, watch gladiators  fighting and feeling proud of themselves. Even when they were informed that their subjects in Egypt had revolted, they continued to do what they were doing. They didn't care about anything but themselves and their daily activities.

The Egyptians were aware of this, of course, they knew they could not be a strong soldier like their emperor father. They were quite sure that the day would come when they, with the help of the Greeks, would put the Roman governors in Egypt to the sword. After all, they had been making preparations since the death of Severus. There were Jews among them too, all of them insistent on establishing the sovereignty of ancient Egypt, but there was one thing they did not consider or pay much attention to.

General Marcus Acacius.

They say, you can feel the ground shake when he walks on it. He makes his opponents feel certain of their own death at the very moment he draws his sword. A daring commander with  few who could stand up to him. It is unclear whether this is an exaggeration or not, but it is still rumored that he cut a lion in half in the Colosseum.

A beast in every sense of the word.

More than that, he is a leader who manages his legions very well and spur them on to achieve success during the war, a man who has not yet tasted a failure, well-earned the title of general in every way.

Since it was obvious that no one else could succeed in suppressing the rebellion, he was immediately sent to the region with the intervention of his Empresss Julia Domna, the mother of the two emperors.

Just like she guessed, he had succeeded in putting down the rebellion, of course, no doubt, as soon as his name rang through, the rebels, along with all the inhabitants of Egypt, have knew that they already defeated.

Some were forced to surrender, those who resisted and fled were found and killed by the Roman soldiers, but not all. The general didn't kill the surrendered ones, he took them as captives which was pretty fair for a beast. In contrast to him, the ones who fled were not, they were so desperate that they didn't know what to do and they started attacking everything and everywhere like rabid dogs.

They even attempted to violate the laws of war and mapped out a plan to kill the General and his soldiers, and even all the medics, in the night at their camps. It was a suicide mission, but they were on the verge of success.

'Has anyone seen the General? He's not in his tent!' A burly soldier strode in, holding his sword which was covered in the blood of the rebel he had just killed. He looked through all the tents one by one, moving quickly and with a concerned look on his face.

The clinking of swords echoed in the darkness as the soldiers cut down the last remaining rebels to death with their swords.

Soon, the soldier ran to his General, relieved to see him, but he was wounded in the abdomen moments ago. As he gently pressed his hand to his injury, a small amount of blood emerged, shining like rubies under the moonlight as it dripped from between his strong fingers onto the grass. His attackers were no longer alive, they were all lying on the ground, were literally cut to ribbons. They attacked him in his sleep when he was wearing nothing but his tunic, catching him off guard. He nodded to the soldier, demanding assistance as his white tunic transformed into a crimson hue. He had been wounded many times before, countless times, but this was nothing like before and was undoubtedly the worst injury he had ever sustained. ‘I think, I… got…,’ he groaned, it hurt much even when he speaks, feeling like beneath the wound his blood was boiling. ‘…poisoned.’ These were the last words spilled from his lips before his enormous body slumping to his knees, collapse altogether to the ground.

The woman with waist-length with black hair was dragging you along with her as she walking across the meadow, you were struggled, couldn’t control your feet, as if the ground was sliding under. She had her hands outstretched at her sides, even though her back was turned, it was not difficult to see her smile by the sunlight reflecting the curve of her chin. She abruptly ceased her movement and bent down to gather a few herbs in a meadow. She plucked them, gathered them in her palms, and kissed them. You heard the whispers between her lips and the harmony of the wind rippling through your ears. It was clear that she was blessing these herbs. When she turned to you, you staggered backwards, hypnotized by her face, so beautiful, mesmerizing, her eyes hypnotizing yours, it was impossible to look away, no escape from them.

Perhaps even more surprising than anything else was that her face and eyes were identical to yours. It really was truly astonishing. She handed you the plants like they were rare jewelry. You could see her arms shone in the sun, and her skin looked like fine marble. It was impossible to believe that it could be human skin; it must have been that of a goddess, but why did her face resemble yours?

'Heal the heart, child,' her voice sang through the meadow like a gentle breeze. You couldn't move your lips, but she heard you anyway.

‘Heart?’

A warm wind blew, and the silhouette of the woman came closer, startling you. Her hazel eyes were turning green under the sun. As she slightly opens her lips, you locked your eyes on them and waited eagerly for the answer.

‘The heart of Rome,’ almost whispers, ‘Serve it,’ a little loud now like commanding, ‘Heal it...’ again whispers then gently puts the herbs on your hand.

A strong wind blew, and the silhouette of the woman danced with the wind. The sunny sky burst into a starry night as the wind embraced the silhouette and rose to the sky, to the stars. You felt the ground under your feet, but your eyes were drawn to the enchanting sky.

As the wind finally gave way to the silent night, you looked at the herbs you were holding in your hand. These kind of herbs you were used to seeing almost every day, but what you were not used to seeing was that they were sparkling like diamonds between your fingers. It was as if you could feel their healing power on your skin.

Abruptly, you heard the voice again, echoing across the meadow. Your ears were once more caressed, blessed, but this time, the words were different.

‘Cure him…’

You barely heard your name being called and your body was shaking, slowly opened your eyes, you saw a familiar but worried face.

‘Wake up, please, you need to get up now,’ the concern in the man's voice brought you back to reality, the effect of the dream disappearing like a cloud of dust between the stone walls and dissipating into the air.

‘Uncle?’

You had rarely seen this face of your uncle who had taken you in when you were an orphan, who cared for you, protected you and raised you well more than any other father or mother ever would.

You sat up from the firm mattress you were lying on, ‘I thought we were travelling tomorrow night?’

‘No, no, that's not why I woke you up,’ he put your big dark cloak over your head. ‘You need to hide.’

You were startled to hear shouting and footsteps coming from outside the wooden door of the room. This was not the sort of noise you would normally expect to hear in this Valetudinarium (hospital, clinic) at this late hour. 

‘What is going on?’ You rub your eyes with your fingers, trying to figure out the situation.

Your uncle tucked your hair deeper into your cloak.

'The Roman soldiers are gathering all the medici (psychians). I have to go with them.'

'Roman soldiers? I thought they left after they put down the rebellion, and slaughtered thousands. Besides, they already have medici with them why they-?'

He grabbed you by the shoulders, his anxiety evident.

'Some rebels with indigestion murdered all the medici in their tents, and then-'

A soldier's voice was heard from one of the nearby rooms. You both turned your heads in that direction, startled, and then looked at each other again.

'General, they targeted him. They attacked him in his sleep. He got them, but he got poisoned. They want me to save him.'

‘Poisoned? But Uncle, he might already be dead, if you won’t be able to cure him they'll blame you or punish you and-’

‘Don’t think about it now, go and hide, as a woman you are not allowed to be here remember? You have to hide and wait for my return.’

The soldiers' voices were heard very close by.

‘No, I'll come with you, if it's aspis (venomous snake in Nile region) venom we'll use the same techniques as before, like we did with the boy last time, it would take too long to make an antivenom on your own, let me help you.’

‘It's too dangerous for you my dearest, to go among the soldiers, even if you wear these men clothes, we can't hide the beauty of your face, dear.’

You strode over to the cauldron in the fireplace and ran your hands over the soot that had accumulated underneath it.

‘It worked before,’ you said, rubbing a little soot on your cheeks.

‘Only at the market. This time it's more dangerous. I'd never forgive myself if I couldn't protect you there.’

‘Don't worry. I'll be back here as soon as we've finished with the antivenom. I know all the paths and shortcuts very well now.’

Suddenly a soldier burst in, kicking the door angrily, you shuddered.

‘You two! Get out, now! We don't have time!

‘We're making sure to collect all medical supplies, sir,’ he turned to you. ‘Come on, boy, don't dawdle!’

You nodded without looking at soldier, grabbed all medicine bottles.

‘You'd better hurry!’

As soon as the soldier left the room, your uncle moved swiftly to the corner and opened the small wooden chest. He took out a cream-coloured envelope of slightly worn paper, sealed with a wax seal bearing the emblem of Septimius Severus.

'This is…'

'I was going to give this to you tomorrow as I promised last time, but there's no time now. If anything happens to me, you will open it. Everything about your true family is in here.'

You took the envelope from him with shaking hands. The previous emperor himself had sealed it. You wondered what it meant.

Your uncle grabbed your shoulders and shook you, making sure you understood how important this letter was.

‘No one should ever see this. Do you understand me? No one! After you open it, hide it. Do not let anyone see it. But don't lose it, hide it like your life depends on it, you'll understand why.’

You nodded firmly and swallowed hard. You tucked the letter into the bag hanging around your neck and hid it at the very bottom under the medicine bottles, making them rattle in the process.

‘Aya, you’re going to have to choose,’ he looked at you before leaving the room.

‘Choose what uncle?’

‘To run or stay. It’ll make sense when you read the letter,’ he checked the hall and grabbed your wrist. You were so confused but you had to think about this later.

'We have to get out now, soldiers are outside, quick!'

The soldiers had gathered all the medici they could find in the army headquarters, near the tents. There were seven of them yet were unable to find a solution to the General's injury. When it was only you and your uncle who were next, a burly soldier, who was of a higher rank than the others, approached you two. You kept your head down, avoiding eye contact. Everyone was in a rush, with almost all of them mobilized to save the general's life. Your gender didn't matter to them, for now. As you were about to follow your uncle into the tent, the soldier stopped you by raising his hand.

‘Only the medicus.’

‘My aide, sir, let him in. He's as expert as I am.’

As your uncle is their last hope, he let you in, but did not follow you inside, stands guard outside the tent. The General's squire was standing right next to him, he looked at you with tears in his eyes. It was a heartbreaking sight. The sorrow had taken possession of everything inside the tent, and you could feel it right down to your bones.

The General was lying on a mattress in the west corner of the tent. He was unconscious, but you noticed that his lips were moving, like murmuring. You moved forward to look closer to see his face, which you had been so curious about.

His face was exactly as you had imagined, and yet not. He had many scars, as if he had been born with them, his light brown skin embracing them. His moustache and beard were partially grey, his nose and chin perfectly shaped, as if the Prometheus had spent more time shaping this man. His face was stunning, and it made your heart beat fast. You had never felt this way about any other man, well you never had an opportunity to do though.

You were somewhat disappointed to see his eyes closed. You were curious about what they might look like, and you were eager to see what he would look like when he opened them. When you found yourself wanting to touch his face, you were a little surprised. For a moment, you forgot why you were there. Your uncle had already picked up the sword with which General had been wounded and was examining the blood on it. You went over to help him, keeping one eye on the general, lying there with his imposing body and half of the white tunic he wore dyed red.

Your heart constricted with pain, and the dream you had came vividly to mind.

‘Cure him.’

‘We need to check his wound!’ You were startled by your uncle's loud voice, squinting at you, you felt ashamed.

As your uncle beckoned, you approached him, seeing the wound was not deep but the skin around the cut starting to get pale from the venom and the edges curling inwards.

‘He doesn't have much time, let's start making the antivenom now,’ he swallowed, the wound was really getting worse, you had to cure him no matter what.

Maybe, you thought, this is why the Gods showed you this in your dream, they warned you in advance that your life depends on it.

The process of making the antivenom took slightly longer than anticipated, but you persevered admirably. Your uncle cleaned the wound to neutralize it while you were perspiring from the fabric of your clothes. Once the antivenom was finally administered, your uncle applied the antidote carefully to the wound but he was exhausted, fingers are shaking so you helped him even you were feeling so tired too. Your eyelids were almost closed but you managed to complete your duty perfectly.

The soldier from earlier came into the tent to check the process, you bowed your head, and stepped back.

'We've cleaned the wound, once its neutralized, applied the antidote. We just need to wait now,' your uncle informed him, wiping sweat off his forehead. 'We need to give him some time, and make sure he drinks water soon to avoid dehydration.’

As the solider checking the wound you turned your head to look at the squire boy who was sobbing just ago, already fallen asleep. Poor boy, you thought.

The soldier ordered you to leave the tent and wait outside.

You felt your arms and legs go numb with fatigue and collapsed to the ground, sat cross-legged, trying hard to stay awake. Your uncle was same but he still struggled to sleep. In the end, he couldn't control his eyelids.

You woke up to the sound of the soldiers shouting and arguing. You turned your head, couldn't make out what they were disagreeing about, but they were making a lot of noise.

'You better go in and make sure the General drinks some water. He needs to stay hydrated,' your uncle said in firmly, watching the soldiers probably keep an eye on them.

The tent was empty except for the General. The soldier from earlier was outside, reassuring the other soldiers. You approached to check him. His forehead was covered in sweat, his body was fighting with venom. You quickly grabbed a damp cloth and pressed it gently on his forehead. Then you touched his lips with your thin, fragile fingers. You felt something intense growing inside you. As a secret medicus, you have touched the face and other parts of the body of many men and women to cure them. However, touching this man's face and lips was never like touching others.

You took a deep breath to pull yourself together. This was nonsense.

You made his lips crack open and dipped a rag into the fresh water in the copper pot. You pressed it against the general's rather dry, pale lips, squeezing it through his mouth.

After repeatedly doing this, you decided you had enough. Just before you withdrew your hand, the general's strong hand grabbed yours with a firm grip. You were surprised and moaned in pain, opened your hand with pressure, and the rag fell to the ground.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you looked at his face. He opened those eyes you had been so curious about and looked at you with a cold, calculating gaze, squeezing your wrist so tightly you felt it would break in a minute. You stifled a scream and moaned in pain, 'Sir, I'm here for help.' You sounded almost as if you were crying, and suddenly he moaned in pain as well, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, the effort drained him. His chest rose and fell rapidly as his breathing quickened.

When he finally released your wrist, you threw yourself backwards for dear life, rubbed your wrist with your other hand and stroked it, praying to the Gods to take the pain away. You could have sworn to Jupiter that if he had squeezed your wrist any harder, you would have heard a cracking sound coming from your bones.

How could he possibly be so strong even when exhausted, so close to death?

As the pain receded, you took a deep breath and forced yourself to calm down. Your thin wrist was painted the red like poppies, as if the shadows of his fingers were engraved on your skin.

You glanced timidly over your shoulder, he was still lying with his eyes closed, but you had just made a terrible mistake, he heard your voice, must have noticed you were a woman, and only the Gods knew what he would do when he came to his senses.

You had to leave immediately, wrapping your wrist in a clean piece of cloth and tucking the sleeve of your dress into it so that the bandage wouldn't be visible. When you came out of the tent, your uncle grabbed your arm and pulled you behind the tent.

‘Uncle, the General seemed to opened his eyes for a moment and heard my voice, he might remember when he awakens,' you said in a whisper, hoping no one have heard you.

‘Gods have mercy upon us,’ he glanced down, murmuring, then grabbed you by shoulders. “Time to go, you need to leave now. Go by following the path through the woods. Soldiers having a disagreement about something, I think they found out-‘

‘You, medicus, come here,’ one of the soldiers shouted at your uncle.

Your uncle gestured to you with his eyes, saying ‘go now’,

'You too!' you gasped as you realised the soldier waving his hand at you.

'Sir, he should stay with the General...' your uncle stepped in front of you to protect you.

'I said come, both of you, now,' he wasn’t asking, it was a firm order.

As you took tentative steps towards the place where the other soldiers were forming a circle beside your uncle, your heart began to beat as if it were going to burst. These were the soldiers who had just fought, and you wondered if they hurt each other, but you could not see anyone hurt or wounded.

On the contrary, they looked at you curiously, only at you.

‘That's nonsense, Dimitrus, this boy can't be a girl,' said one soldier pointing you with a small knife in his hand.

Your uncle was standing next to you, his fear having come true, his face taut with worry.

As the soldier, who you guessed was named Dimitrus, approached you, your uncle took a step in front of him, but the soldier easily overpowered him and pushed him aside. The soldier looked at your body from top to bottom. You bowed your head and clenched your fists. Your heart pounded in your chest as your breathing quickened. He yanked down your hood of your cloak with his big hands, other soldiers came nearby for a better look.

Your hair was tied up at the back of your head, and the soldier's grin widened when he noticed. He drew his dagger from its holster, and when you saw your uncle's worried face behind the soldier's formidable arm, you began to pray to all the Gods.

He grabbed your bun with his hand and cut the hairband with his dagger, your golden-brown wavy hair falling over your shoulders. The soldiers laughed and whistled. Dimitrus looked at them with a cocky smile and turned back to you.

‘Such a long hair for a aide boy, eh?’

'A girl, indeed,' said one soldier, looking at you with disbelief.

‘I told you I could smell a woman a mile away,’ he laughed, his voice booming.

'Please,' you demanded, feeling unable to do anything else. A feeling of despair took control of your whole body.

‘What is going on here?’ The burly soldier approached and noticed your new look, looking at you in astonishment. Dimitrus grabbed you by the hair and pulled you towards him. He then grabbed your chin and turned your face to Octavius.

'Look at her. You don't even know that the medicus brought a girl with him, Octavius?' And you're the general's right-hand man!’

You struggled to move your body, but he was so strong.

‘Hey, I can't see her face clearly!'

You closed your eyes tightly as someone threw wine on your face. Dimitrus wiped your face with his big fingers, rubbing roughly.

'Gods, no ordinary beauty,' looking at you like a hungry wolf, then smells your hair making you feel nauseous.

You tried to look away, but your eyes met your uncle's desperate gaze.

‘That's enough, Dimitrus, let her go, is this what you all thinking while our General lies there like that?’

You rushed to your uncle's side as his hands released your hair.

‘He's already dead, I've never seen anyone get up after being poisoned,’ he says as if he was looking forward to his death.

Octavius drew his sword with a schwing. ‘How dare you! Say that again and I'll cut your tongue off!’ he growled.

Dimitrus' followers drew their swords as well. Octavius looked at each of them with anger and disbelief. He has been betrayed.

‘You filthy rats! I'll kill you one by one!’ He waved his long sword at them.

Dimitrus grabbed your uncle by the collar, 'Start with this one. Who knows what he gave the General instead of medicine?'

‘Yes, he must be punished!’

'Punish him, Octavius!'

They were all yelling at him by raising their swords, you were thinking a way out but there wasn’t any.

‘If you won't, I will,' Dimitrus pointed his swords end at your uncle.

‘No!' you cried but your uncle stopping you with his hand.

Then, as Octavius raised his hand and was about to lunge at him, Dimitrus plunged his sword through your uncle's stomach, the poor man groaning in pain and falling to his knees, and as you ran towards him, he drew back his sword, his blood splashing in your face with the force of the draw. Your body began to shake and you felt paralysed as you watched his lifeless body fall to the ground.

'Dimitrus!' Octavius roared, ‘You've gone too far! What do you think our general will do to you when he awakens?’

You collapsed to your knees in shock, your body rigid and still, your face expressionless yet tears streaming down your cheeks.

'General? You failed to save him, you let that medicus get into his tent, you must share his fate! I will tell the emperors that this is your fault! And I think we should put the general out of his misery-'

Suddenly, an axe emerged from nowhere and plunged into Dimitrus' chest deeply. His body reeled back, shaking, then fell to the ground lying backwards, dying in a pool of blood as everyone looked at him in astonishment and panic. Blood gushed from where his chest had been split open, and when he stopped breathing, laying there as his eyes remained wide open.

They turned their head to see who had thrown the axe and they were shocked once again.

The general could barely stands near his tent, his eyes filled with rage, his gaze blazing with fury. Octavius ran to his side quickly.

'General! Thank Gods you're finally awake!’

'What's going on here, Octavius?' his voice was like a roar.

‘Sir, Dimitrus and others have attempted to mutiny.’

Acacius gave the other soldiers a deathly stare and they immediately kneeled down with their swords upside down.

'No, sir, we did not.’

'Forgive me, sir, it was Dimitrus doing.’

'Sir, please forgive me.’

You closed your uncle's eyelids with your fingers as they all begged for forgiveness. Your back was turned to the General, you didn't care if you live or die, you didn’t care about anything. You felt your whole life was already over.

'If any of you ever dare to do anything like this again,' he walked near Dimitrus’ body and pulled the axe from his chest roughly, you startled by the crunching sound coming from his bones.

'I Marcus Acacius, will make sure that he meets the same fate as this scum!'

He put them all in their place, they all nodded in fear and stood up with his gesture, bowing their heads though couldn't look him in the face.

'Now get ready, we must sail at dawn!'

‘Yes sir!’

All of them sheathing their swords, spreading around in rush.

Acacius staggered a little as they gone at his sight, his wound still hurting but he tried hard not to show them.

Octavius touched his arm, 'Sir, the Gods have spared your life but please rest a little longer.’

'Who is this man?’

You were certain he was talking about your uncle, even though your back was turned to him.

'The medicus who cured you, sir, Dimitrus got mad and killed him because he thought he couldn't save you.'

'As if we haven't lost enough medici tonight. He was wrong obviously. This man managed to cure me. I'm standing thanks to him,' he turned his head to Octavius. 'Make sure this man's body reaches his family. Let the governor know about this. They should fulfil all ritual arrangements.'

Octavius nodded, "Yes sir, I will."

Then both turned their gaze to you. 'What about this one?'

Your body was petrified, you felt the time of execution has come, you’ve never expected the last moments of your life to be like this.

‘I think this was his aide or slave sir, Dimitrus found out she was a woman, that medicus was hiding her, sir,’ he bowed his head in shame, you swallowed.

Acacius' pain returned, he groaned in pain, Octavius grabs his waist gently, "Sir, please rest, you need to get your strength back.’

'Sir!' Acacius' squire came and put his arm under his.

It was time for him to turn his back to you.

‘Since her master has died, take this girl to the other slaves, I don't want any more chaos or mishap,’ he said in a firm voice.

You wiped tears from your eyes with the back of your hand as their footsteps faded away. Two soldiers came and grabbed your arms, lifted you off the ground while the others carrying your uncle’s body. When you turned your head, glancing over your shoulder, saw the General's curly grey hairs and his well-shaped nose before he went into his tent.

Your body was filled with rage.

What you heard was only a heightening of your pain and a deepening of your hurt.

A slave? How could he say that? The one who cured him was now worthy of being a slave?

As the mid-morning sun began to reflect on the walls of Rome through the haze that filled the

harbour, the capital was preparing to experience one of the most active days in its history. Everyone who noticed the navy ships approaching the harbour from afar, citizens, subjects, foreign mission chiefs, tradesmen, civil servants, porters, all filled the entrance of the city. They were waiting to welcome General Marcus Acacius and the glorious Roman soldiers. On the deck of the large ship at the forefront of the fleet, the General sighs deeply as he looks out over his city, thanking Mars for his triumphant and healthy return.

It ten days to get from the port of Alexandria to Rome, a very difficult experience for you, travelling with captives called slaves. Most of them were Greeks and Egyptians, and the fact that the streets of the Roman capital were filled with shouts of joy was of no interest to them. On board the ship they were constantly told that the slave market in the capital was a very prestigious place, that the young girls would be well brought up by certain families, that they should stop crying, that they should pray to Jupiter to make the wealthy families could like them and buy them with high prices.

But you were not like those slaves, you were not a prisoner of war, nor was your family enslaved or poor. Your uncle was a renowned and esteemed medicus. He was a member of an affluent family. He and his wife found you on the banks of the River Nile when you were three years old. That is what they told you. The gods had not blessed them with a child, so they loved you as much as their own. You knew he wasn't your real father or uncle, but you were very happy with your life and didn't ask too many questions until he told you about that letter the night before the night that ruined your life.

As an orphan, you were brought up well by your uncle, learning all about Egyptian medicine, performing countless surgeries at his side, bringing many people back to life -including the general himself- and learning enough to become an expert. But, no one could call you as medicus because you were a woman, yet your talents were too great to be ignored. No matter who you told on this ship, no one would believe you, and even if they did, there was nothing they could do about it.

As you looked out through the small cracks between the planks of the ship, your eyes travelled over the seemingly endless sea. You couldn't stop thinking about the dream you had that night.

‘Cure him.’

Wouldn't it have been better if you haven't cure him? Perhaps your uncle would still be alive. Maybe you wouldn't be sitting on this ship now, resigned to your fate, wondering, worrying what will happen to you. Is this your reward for healing the great Roman general?

That man ruined your life, and you only did yourself a disservice by saving him.

Perhaps the gods were testing you, but what was the lesson?

You looked at the shadow of the General's fingers under the piece of cloth you had wrapped around your wrist. The color was that of violets caressed by moonlight days ago. Now, it is unmistakably that color, doesn’t hurt much anymore.

As the ship rumbled into port, you realized that it was time to accept your fate. In the dark and damp bilge of the ship, you and a girl close to your age called Decima took turns using the same swing as a bed, you liked each other very much and in desperation you became confidants. She was in her early twenties, beautiful yet you were in your late twenties, ahead of her in beauty. Her father was a rebel, probably killed by the General's men, and she was taken as captive. You told her almost everything except the letter that you’re hiding in your bag.

As soon as you stepped into the harbour, the discrimination began, the general and his men moved in the other direction, while the trader man of slaves were standing in front of you ordered you to move somewhere else.

You frowned as you saw his face in the distance over the shoulders of the people in the crowd, he looked very healthy, his body had managed to overcome the venom of the past few days and his wound has healed. You remembered how you had spent hours with your uncle trying to cure him, how you had struggled for hours to make the antidote while your arms and wrists ached with pain.

The General's face lit up with a warm smile as he waved his hand at his citizens, you were surprised to find that all your anger has vanished for a moment.

You turned your head away, looking at him would only cause you pain. He didn't look at you because he hasn't seen your face yet -well not clearly-, furthermore, you’ve never met face to face, to him you’re just a slave nothing more. Octavius however, recognised you from a distance. He was the only one who has witnessed your hard work. He was an honorable men, didn’t like to see you among the slaves, yet he has nothing to do, it was his General's order.

In the evening of that day, after the slaves were taken to the baths and then to the slave market for sale, you and Decima were taken by the slaver man to a separate cell. From outside, one could hear the sounds of a lively market, where slaves were being sold one by one. There was a great deal of interest in these new slaves from Egypt.

Slaver man appeared at the door of your cell in the market with a man over your age looks wealthy. Decima immediately stood up, but you did not. The slaver gestured with his hand, turning Decima around in the center and showing her arms, face and feet, squinting at you meanwhile.

‘Look at these strong and beautiful young girls, sir, I wouldn’t show you any poor slaves, they are both virgins, and they are very beautiful, the great Venus has bestowed her beauty on these girls. They would fetch a lot of money if they went to the market, but I thought I would show them to you first sire.’ He was blandishing much, but the man's eyes were locked on you.

‘Doesn't she have any manners? Why doesn't she stand up?’

‘You're right sir, she must be a bit sick from travelling, she will,’ he gestured to you with his hand, ‘Come on, get up, girl.’

You rolled your eyes and got up, he squeezed your arm hard to warn you first, then did everything what he had done to Decima, opening almost every part of your body for the other man to see. It was incredibly disgusting, you felt like an animal being sold at the cattle market.

‘The other one is younger, but this one is so beautiful, a rare one,’ he said, grabbed you by arm, looking at you hungrily. ‘How much do you want for this one?’

Your eyes meet with Decima in a silent exchange, as it was time to go your separate ways.

‘Eight thousand sesterces, sire.’

He pursed his lips, thinking, his fingers touching your hair mean while you were closing your eyes, praying for a miracle.

‘Ten thousand sesterces!’

A familiar voice of a man echoed through stone walls. You all turned your heads to that direction.

‘General Marcus Acacius offers ten thousand sesterces for this girl!’ Octavius’ imposing body appeared, he came towards them with his armor making a sharp noise with every step. He threw a big coin pouch to the slaver, who caught it with a big smile on his face.

‘Sold, of course,’ he was counting the coins with happy face.

Then Octavius firmly grabbed the other man's arm that was still touching you, lifted it, and pushed it away. He frowned.

‘This girl belongs to General Acacius now, sir, you must not touch her,’ he warned him gently but firmly.

As the general entered the city in his chariot, the people shouted his name. He waved his hand to them, and the streets were filled with a great enthusiasm as everyone gathered to honour the general and his soldiers. The chariot carrying him soon passed under the triumphal arch of Septimius Severus and turned towards the Curia Julia, the Senate building, where the emperors must have been waiting for him. The general's smile faded. He was tired and not looking forward to seeing them, but he would not go to his villa before visiting the emperors.

As General strode purposefully up the marble stairs, Geta and Caracella leapt down from their golden imperial thrones in excitement. As soon as Geta saw him, he opened his arms wide.

‘How can I reward Rome's greatest general?'

'By letting him catch his breath first,' Caracella smiled widely.

Acacius stopped in front of them and nodded, 'Emperors.'

'We have been eagerly awaiting for your arrival, general,' Geta clasped his hands together, looking at him with admiration.

'Speak for yourself, brother. My legs ache from sitting for so long,' Caracella said, then laughed loudly. 'But it was worth it, indeed!'

‘Indeed!’ They both laughed once more, but Caracella looking at his brother a bit strange way.

It was hard to tell if Caracella wanted to embrace Geta or if wanted to take his life right then and there. The relationship between the two of them was quite distorted.

The general rolled his eyes, he was used to these two whiny emperors half of his age bickering at each other all the time, he sighed in frustration at having to put up with them when he could easily take both their lives with a single stroke of his sword. Unfortunately, this unpleasant situation had only just begun.

‘We heard that you were poisoned, how did it feel?’ Geta looked at him with wide eyes and smile.

The news must have reached the emperors before the general had even boarded the ship.

'Painful, your highness,' Acacius stated, a shadow passing over his brown eyes as he remembered the pain again.

'I'm sure it was, it must have been an interesting experience.’ Caracella crossed his arms; smiling just like his brother.

‘Cobra or viper?’

‘Aspis, highness, the viper type.’

‘Oh, I won!’ Geta jumped for joy and gestured to Caracella with his hand, imitating a snake.

Caracella ignored him looking at the General.

‘The rebels must have quite a sense of humour, poisoning a Roman General carrying Medusa on his chest with a snake, quite ironic,’ he touched Medusa on General's armor with his index finger.

Acacius frowned while looking at him, ‘They certainly do, they murdered all our medici mercilessly, fortunately the great Asclepius sent his help, my men brought another medicus from city was able to cure me, it is thanks to him that I can stand here in front of you, highness,’ Acacius remembered the memory when he was unsure whether it was a dream or not but he could not get out of his mind the fingers that touched his lips, the owner of those hazel eyes that came to his aid when his throat was dry from thirst. But it couldn't be medicus he thought, it had to be someone with thin fingers, someone with beautiful eyes he had never seen before. Maybe, since he was too close to death, it was a dream or a goddess has appeared to him, he couldn't be sure.

The first thing he remembers is opening his eyes and grabbing her wrist with his survival instinct. He thought it was a strange looking young man in a hood, maybe another rebel had come to kill him again, but then he heard her voice and thought his goddess had come to heal him. He was in so much pain and seeing hallucinations that he couldn't tell if it was a dream or not. But couldn’t get rid of those thoughts since days.

The emperors didn't seem to care much about the medicis the general was talking about, or how he had recovered, and Acacius seemed bored as they continued to joke with each other.

‘Mother,' Geta ran to her as he noticed the Empress approaching, extends his arm for her.

Julia Domna took his arm as she coming towards Acacius, whispering something into Geta’s ear, without taking her eyes off the General.

‘My lady,’ Acacius nodded to her.

Domna's smile was like Caracella's, you could never guess what she was thinking.

‘General, how good it is to see you return triumphant once more. Rome salutes you, and I embrace you,’ she approached him with open arms and put her hands Acacius’ board shoulders.

Caracella sat back on his throne, a bored look on his face.

‘My Lady, the honour is mine,’ the general said, bowing his head.

‘We shall sacrifice 1000 bulls to honor our triumphant mother!’ Geta clapped his hands excitedly, ‘Let's have a great feast tonight!’

‘Highness, let's give the General some time to rest, he must be tired from the battle,’ Domna removed her hands from the General's shoulders but kept her eyes on him.

Caracella let out a high, shrill laugh that echoed through the white marble columns. Geta sat on his throne and scowled.

‘Marcus, walk with me,’ the Empress turned round, gestured to him.

Acacius sighed, he didn't want to be alone with her, but he had to. Domna walked ahead of him, hands clasped behind her back, he followed her slowly.

‘My sons are glad to see you again, even if they have no idea how fortunate they are to have you serving them.’

'It is my duty to serve Rome.’

She paused and smiled, watching the water in the pool shimmer in the sunlight, the glow reflecting off her bright skin, her expression was difficult to read.

'I think you have a talent for survival.’

She sounded dissatisfied. 'After all, you trained under Maximus, you must have learned a lot from him.’

He looked away, 'I owe where I am today to the remarkable fighting skills he taught me, he was an honourable man, the greatest general Rome has ever seen,' Acacius' eyes were fixed on the great Temple of Venus between the eastern edge of the Forum Romanum and the Colosseum.

Domna looked at him with a feeling between admiration and concern.

‘He, like you, lived to serve Rome, even if he had to kill Commodus,’ she said, and even little children could catch the obvious implication in her voice.

Acacius held his ground, his eyes roaming the curves of the statue of Venus.

‘But unlike him, you are loyal to the emperors, I can be sure of that, can't I?

He turned his head towards her, but did not look at her. His eyes were now on the two spoilt emperors who were talking animatedly to each other between the columns. 'As long as Rome is prosperous for all her subjects, I will be loyal to them, my lady.'

Domna laughed loudly, 'Ah, that's why I want you in the Senate, how long will you refuse?

'I am only a soldier, politics is not my business, nor should it be. Consuls in the Senate -'

‘Those old foxes live in abundance and do nothing, the person who has done Rome the greatest service should be in the Senate.’ Domna glanced over her shoulder at her sons. 'I am concerned that Macrinus has no equal in the Senate and that Caracella dominates him, perhaps if you are in there, you will gain his trust.’

'Your Highness...' He looked at her shaking his head as no.

Domna looked at Acacius, this time with a serious expression on her face, 'For the sake of Rome you must be especially careful with Caracella, as her mother even I find it hard to get my way with him, he is not like Geta, he is a hard-headed child.’

Acacius looked at Caracella whose back was turned, of course he knew this very well, for a moment he thought that he was the real threat to Rome, not the enemy soldiers or the others.

‘Anyway, you should go to your villa and rest, you will have time to think about this alone,’ she said with a forced smile, then turned around to go to her sons.

After praying in the temple of Venus, Acacius walked out, and as he descended the steps of the temple, he felt a stinging pain where his wound had been, the poison had completely gone from his body, but it had left its trace behind.

Octavius was lost in thought as he has leaned against the side of the carriage waiting for him, quickly stood up when he noticed him.

‘Sir.’

‘I see you don't miss your home, as you're still here,' Acacius said as he descended the last step. He got into the carriage and climbed in to sit beside him. Acacius was quite tired so he lay down on the seat, the fact that he felt so comfortable with Octavius was because of their long friendship, he was his most trusted man, more than just a friend, like a brother.

'Are you going to tell me what's troubling you?’ Acacius covered his face with his arm, but he could feel the tension in him.

'Sir, the girl.’

'Oh, I see, a girl? Have you fallen in love with a girl?

'No, that's not it,' Octavius felt embarrassed as he remembers your face. 'That poor girl, It doesn't seem fair that she should be with those slaves, sir, you are an honourable man, but-'

Acacius lifted his arm from his face and looked at him, the cart swaying as it moved along the stony roads.

'The girl that medicus hid? Why do you care so much for her? Is there something I should know?’

'After all, they worked so hard together to cure you, perhaps you should have at least let her go home.’

‘Together? What do you mean?' Acacius sat up, his eyebrows furrowed.

Octavius bowed his head.

'Sir, I made a mistake, it was my fault for letting them into your tent, I don't know how I could have been so careless even after the assassination, forgive me...'

Acacius raised his hand.

'Slow down, we will talk about your mistake later, you are saying that girl entered my tent and cured me? How?’

'I didn't look closely at her face and I didn't know she was a woman maybe because of her outfit but I made a terrible mistake, I should’ve known, forgive me sir.’ He bowed his head once more but it made Acacius more angry.

'You haven't answered my question, Octavius,' his voice was loud.

'Yes sir, she did her best to cure you, sir, the girl and Medicus worked hard to produce antivenom all night.’

Acacius was surprised when he realized that he hadn't dreamed that night. He was glad to learn that the owner of those eyes was a real person. But then he thought that she might be on the slave market by now, about to be sold to someone else.

‘Stop the carriage!’ He yelled.

The coachman immediately did as he was told and pulled hard on the horses' harnesses, the horses howling and stamping their hooves on the ground.

'Sir?' Octavius raised his eyebrows in surprise.

'Go and find the girl, I want to see her at my villa tonight, do you understand? Acacius tossed him a pouch full of coins.

Octavius smiled, ‘Yes, sir.’

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[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twenty Five-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

Tags: 18+, Dirty Talk, Threats of Violence, Jealousy, Toxic Behaviours, Possessive Behaviours, Mentions of GunPoint (enchanted gun but still), Italian, Flirty!Theodore!Nott, Angst, Sexual Tension.

FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

"I don't know about this, Em..."

Giggles danced through the air, originating from your blonde companion, currently immersed in a thorough investigation of your shared closet. Her voice, laced with amusement, murmured something indecipherable, the words muffled by the solidity of the wooden door. A long sigh escaped your lips, a potent release of pure exasperation.

"This is crazy," you muttered to yourself. "Nott is going to need an entire bloody medical team when he catches sight of me..."

The enchanting red dress, a gem sourced from a privy boutique in Hogsmeade under Mattheo's explicit direction, molded itself to every contour as you confronted your reflection in the mirror. As your eyes traversed the fabric's journey, or rather, the lack thereof--there was no escaping the undeniable truth; the dress was exquisitely tight, sparing no nuance of your silhouette to the imagination.

"Doubt he'll even get the chance..." Emily replied, finally reemerging from the closet, "lover boy will likely claim his head the moment he fixes his gaze on you for too long."

Emily's cheeky response added a layer of playful anticipation to the charged atmosphere, earning an exaggerated eye roll from you in response as you fought hard to suppress your smirk.

When you'd embarked on the hunt for the ideal dress, you had brought Emily along for her valuable opinion. As your gaze fell upon this specific piece, uncertainty gripped you, convinced it might be a touch excessive. Yet, Emily staunchly opposed that notion. Her unwavering belief in its perfection became a contagion, subjecting you to prolonged minutes of relentless persuasion. Gradually, her infectious enthusiasm chipped away at your resistance until, inevitably, you succumbed--reluctantly handing over Mattheo's gifted galleons.

"And do I truly wish to burden my conscience with the death of the schools most popular Italian playboy? And not to mention Riddle's certain Azkaban sentence...all but a couple months from graduation?" you deadpanned, fingers instinctively rising to massage your temples in an attempt to alleviate the burgeoning headache. "Maybe I should just borrow something from your-"

"Absolutely not," Emily interjected, her voice cutting through your proposal with firm decisiveness. She approached you, a sparkle in her eyes, and added, "you look perfect. Trust me on this."

Meeting your eyes in the mirror, Emily's irises shimmered with a warm reassurance. She adjusted her flowy emerald green dress, a garment she had acquired at Tom's request--they were going to the masquerade together, though the status of their relationship still remained uncertain.

Emily, ever the advocate of going with the flow, a concept apparently foreign to Tom, said she wasn't in any rush to make things official, understanding that perhaps it would look a tad bit odd for him to start dating her after he'd just paraded you around to all of his friends, merely less than a few weeks go.

And as a result of this, you and Emily had a long, in depth heart-to-heart conversation where you made sure to unravel any lingering issues--the liberating honesty and the comfort of having someone in your corner again felt tangible. Although initially perturbed by the extended secrecy, Emily eventually grasped the rationale behind your discretion, acknowledging the protective measures taken for yourself and your desired career.

The depth of your longstanding friendship played a pivotal role in fostering this understanding, and you'd never been more thankful to have such a wonderful, supportive friend in your life.

"What do you think Michael will do when he spots you wearing traitor colours?" you teased, an impish grin playing on your lips as you watched Emily fix her long blonde hair, adjusting herself in the reflection.

"I reckon he'll be rather unamused," she snorted, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "But he'll be in for a real surprise when he sees you cozying up with Theodore Nott, the traitor extraordinaire."

"Cozying up with Theodore?" you retorted with a smirk, feigning innocence. "Absolutely not, I just recently cleared my conscience, I intend on keeping it that way."

"I wouldn't underestimate the Italian playboy; word on the street is he can be quite insistent..." Emily spun back around to face you, a cheeky smile playing on her lips. "My suggestion is that you tell him about Mattheo before he unwittingly finds himself sharing a bed with Berkshire."

Your expression sank, and a twist formed in your stomach. "Oh, gods, Emily, I need to change," you exclaimed, spinning around and making a beeline for the closet. "Surely there's a garbage bag or your grandmas old moo-moo hidden in here that I could wear instead, right?"

Emily's sudden snort echoed through the room, reverberating far louder than you'd expected. With swift precision, she wielded her wand, slamming the closet door shut before you could reach it.

"Come on, it's going to be fun," she teased, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. "Give those cocky Slytherin boys an experience they've never had before. Making them squirm is a rare opportunity--after all, they're not used to being denied anything."

You hesitated, a reluctant smile crawling across your face at her words as you silently considered the prospect. Mattheo had always made it abundantly clear that girls were typically within arm's reach for him, and he could have anyone he desired. The idea of driving him to the brink tonight, knowing he couldn't do a thing about it after explicitly instructing Theodore to ask you, ignited a rebellious spark within you.

"Alright, but this better not turn into a disaster," you responded, your internal thoughts dancing between uncertainty and a subtle thrill. "If the mafia comes after me because I smacked their most prized possession, I'm blaming you."

"You look fucking hot. Own it," she encouraged, a playful smile dancing on her lips. Turning her attention to the door, a sudden realization struck her. "I've got to run. Promised Michael I'd help him with his bloody tie--but don't forget to check the mail. Something arrived for you earlier."

With a swift goodbye, she whisked away, grabbing her matching emerald green eye mask, leaving you to contemplate the mysterious package. Not one to dawdle, you approached the table by the door, spotting a small brown box with your name inscribed on it.

With eager anticipation, you unwrapped the package, unveiling a stunningly bejeweled red mask. A note accompanied the alluring accessory, bearing the cryptic message:

"Something about me, I fucking hate the colour yellow."

A smirk played on your lips as you extracted the exquisite gift from its velvet cradle. The crimson mask lay in your hands, a stunning creation adorned with gemstones that caught and reflected the light with each subtle movement. Blush flooded your cheeks as you approached the mirror, slipping the mask on. Turning your head in every direction, you marveled at the way it enhanced your features, making you feel like a mysterious enchantress.

The beauty of the mask was beyond words, and even though the logical part of you knew it had to be from Mattheo, the sheer magnificence of the gift made it feel almost surreal.

After what felt like an eternity lost in the mirror, admiring the stunning mask, the realization hit that you needed to meet Theodore. He'd mentioned waiting for you at the entrance to your common room, so as swiftly as possible, you adjusted your dress, attempting to cover up your chest, and gracefully slipped out of your room, navigating the familiar halls with a sense of purpose.

The chilled corridor welcomed you as you emerged, and after a brief moment of searching, there, like an awakening spell, you spotted Theo--and your stomach nearly leapt into your chest at the sight of him.

"Holy shit, Nott...are you...are you actually wearing enemy colors?" Your jaw dropped as you beheld Theodore in a Ravenclaw blue suit, a sight you'd never expected in a million years. "Hold still, I need to take a bloody picture of this."

Theo's arrogant response came with a sly smirk, his dark eyes tracing hungrily over your figure. He stood before you in a pristine suit, accompanied by matching vest, and a crisp white dress shirt underneath. The ensemble was adorned with exquisite gold links and buttons, showcasing his impeccable taste. His confident demeanour suggested that he indeed cleaned up more than nicely, and this was only a slight indication of his professionalism.

"Sure, have your laughs," he quipped, an arrogant smirk playing on his lips. His eyes moved deliberately, scanning the curves of your figure. "Enjoy the view while it lasts, little bird. This suit's debut is a one-time thing—I might just set it ablaze once the night is over."

"Well you certainly know how to make a girl feel special, don't you?..." you teased, grin stretching past your ears as you took another step closer. "How honoured I am to accompany you in this suits first and only outing."

"Your wit is far too sharp for a Ravenclaw," Theo huffed in amusement, his stormy eyes glistening behind his dark blue mask. "You look properly fucking flaming by the way...do pardon my French."

You snorted, gracefully taking his arm as he offered it, intertwining yours around his. "French? I was under the impression you were Italian, Signor Nott."

"You speak it?" Theo raised an intrigued eyebrow, briefly glancing down at you as the two of you strolled towards the ballroom.

"Partially," you replied, a playful glint in your eye, your attention split between the conversation and the challenge of navigating gracefully in your black heels. Each step resonated with a confident clack on the school floors. "I dabble in a multitude of tongues...a side effect of an inquisitive mind."

"Is that so?" he said, pure intrigue in his tone. "Talk to me in Italian then,"

"Are you serious?" You snorted, far louder than you'd intended, waiting for him to say he was joking. He simply looked down at you, eyes locked on yours behind the mysterious mask.

"Absolutely serious," Theo chuckled, the breathy tones dancing in the air, a subtle spark of challenge in his eyes. "A little ball of knowledge, huh? Prove it."

A warm flush crept up your cheeks as you stifled your laughter. Theo had a charm of his own, a natural way of drawing people in much like Mattheo, although the troublemaking wizard had a slightly more breathtaking allure with those dark, intoxicating eyes and that unruly mop of chocolate curls. It wasn't a shortcoming on Theo's part--it was simply the irreplaceable magnetism that Mattheo possessed, but you couldn't deny the way Nott was making you feel.

"Alright, you want me to put my money where my mouth is, I respect that." You teased, clearing your throat as you pondered an Italian phrase that might leave an impression. After a brief moment of contemplation, it dawned on you. "Non c'è rosa senza spine."

(There is no rose without thorns.)

"Buona scelta," he replied with a smirk, his tone holding an air of both appreciation and subtle challenge. "Sei più astuta di quanto pensassi."

(Good choice; you’re more clever than I thought.)

"You underestimate me, Nott," you chuckled, a surge of pride coursing through you. "Consider that your first mistake."

"You know, the more I get to know you, the larger my desire to figure you out becomes,” he said, dropping his tone into a husky whisper as the two of you turned a corner. "You are...intriguing."

It was at this moment, as the two of you entered into the bustling main hall, that you were extremely thankful this event was a masquerade. The mask provided a welcome veil of anonymity, shielding you from the prying gazes that threatened to make you uneasy. It seemed you were blending seamlessly into Theo's arm, a part of the enigmatic allure rather than a subject of scrutiny.

"You couldn't figure me out in a million years," you retorted, a sharp edge to your tone, the corners of your lips subtly playing with a hint of a smirk. "Better men have tried."

Theo, as expected, didn't like that response. "Don't tempt me, little bird...I will make it my life's mission."

You rolled your eyes, chewing on your cheek. "You're far too sure of yourself, Theodore."

"Look at that, Bella...you're already using my first name," he quipped, smirking. "I'm making progress without even trying."

You fought the urge to smack him, your eyes narrowing in a playful challenge. "To know me, Signor Nott, I'll put you through hell...just ask Riddle, he can certainly attest."

"Mm, thats precisely the thing, little bird..." he said, his smirk holding a touch of intrigue. "Riddle's a closed book when it comes to you. Doesn't spill a damn thing, makes me wonder what secrets the two of you are hiding.”

"Quite a conspiracy, I'd say," you chuckled, relishing the light banter between you two as the distant sounds of music and laughter from the ballroom grew louder. With a nod and a playful smile, you gestured toward the entrance. "Shall we?"

Theo nodded, a playful glint in his eyes, as he released your arm and extended a hand to the small of your back, ushering you forward. "After you, milady"

Upon crossing the threshold into the ballroom, a breathtaking scene unfolded before your eyes. The room was adorned with vibrant spring decorations, an enchanting celebration marking the approaching end of the term. The fragrance of fresh flowers wafted through the air, and the soft glow of enchanted lanterns bathed the room in a warm, golden radiance. Hogwarts students from all years, dressed in their finest attire, wore a dazzling array of masks, each one a unique work of art.

As your eyes darted around the room, the search for familiar faces led you to a moment of anticipation. The diversity of masks, ranging from intricate designs to whimsical shapes, made it challenging to discern familiar faces.

Finally, your gaze landed on the only man you'd ever go out of your way to search for, his distinctive chocolate curls drawing your attention like a magnet amidst the sea of masked enchantment. The mere fucking sight of him, cloaked in newfound sophistication, sent a thrilling pulse through your veins, awakening sensations in your body that you were unprepared to face.

He stood there, like a fucking silhouette of elegance, adorned entirely in black--black mask, black suit pants, a sleek black dress shirt, and a finely tailored black suit vest. The only splash of colour adorned him in the form of a satin red tie, perfectly mirroring the shade of your dress. The entirety of your being froze in place, your throat resembling a parched desert, the sole reminder to keep moving coming from the steady pressure of Theo's hand on your back, coaxing you forward through the enchanting crowd.

As the two of you veered closer to them, the tension in your body was almost painful. Truth be told, it wasn't the singular presence of Mattheo that set your heart racing like a high-performance sports car on race day--oh, no, the true accelerant was his fucking date. The very girl from the washroom, the one you had directed him to accompany, and the vibrant colour of her long, flowing dress:

Yellow.

"Riddle, Malfoy," Theo uttered, initiating a firm handshake with each of his Slytherin comrades as they exchanged greetings. "Parkinson, Lanalock."

"Nott," Parkinson remarked, a smile gracing her features. "Never expected to see you in blue. You could easily pass for a Ravenclaw, you know."

Theo's response carried a touch of cunning arrogance, sneaking you a glance. "A choice made with utmost consideration, you might say."

In the midst of the social dance, your gaze and Mattheo's remained locked, an unbroken connection that felt more like a silent conversation than a mere exchange of glances. The unspoken tension between you two hung thick, and in that charged moment, it was uncertain if either of you had even blinked. Your heart pounded not only in your throat but also seemingly echoed in another, more intimate part of you as well.

Mattheo had never looked more fucking captivating, and the longing for him intensified by the millions--that merciless irresistible force effortlessly working to pull you closer.

Just as the tension threatened to become all-encompassing, Professor Dumbledore's voice reverberated over the lively chatter, his warm tone weaving through the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the enchanting Spring Masquerade. I hope the magic of the night unfolds to your desires. Now, if you would kindly make your way to the dance floor, we are about to commence the first slow dance of the evening. So, let the celebration begin."

The resonance of Dumbledore's voice snapped you from Mattheo's visual captivity, prompting a few deliberate blinks and an expelled breath laden with tension. Theo, with a gentle glance, took your hand, guiding the group to choose spots on the dance floor directly adjacent to one another. It required every fiber of your being not to steal a glance at Mattheo, aware that the mere sight of him holding another girl would induce a wave of nausea within you.

Your attention became an exclusive affair with Theo. As he placed his hands on your hips, his grip was tender, a sensation entirely distinct from anything you'd experienced with Mattheo. A sharp intake of breath accompanied the elevation of your arms, led your palms to find a gentle perch on Theo's shoulders. In the depths of his stormy blue eyes, you unintentionally delved, oblivious to the intensity of the eye contact you established--you were so lost in your own thoughts that a bomb could go off in this very room, and you were certain you wouldn't even flinch.

Then, Theo's voice broke the silence. "Little bird, are you alright?"

"Oh, yes," you blinked, your voice escaping your throat in a cracked whisper, as though each word were a struggle for breath. "And you?"

"More than," he quipped, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.

Your watchful eyes tracked the journey of his gaze, starting from your eyes, sliding leisurely to your lips, lingering provocatively before venturing lower, dipping over your chest with a seductive grace before sinuously slithering back up. The subtle intimacy of the visual exploration ignited a warmth within you, and you glimpsed his lips, recalling Emily's advice from your dorm. Make these men squirm.

"Glad to hear it," you mused, a playful edge to your tone, your fingers tightening their grip on his shoulders as he delicately drew you closer. "Wouldn't want the Italian playboy to be anything other than alright."

His grip tightened perceptibly, the sensation almost tangible as if his nails could breach the delicate fabric of your dress. The room plunged into a soft dimness, signaling the beginning of the slow dance. The shift in atmosphere was unexpected, enough to make you jump slightly. For a fleeting moment, you locked eyes with Mattheo, finding his gaze fixed on you, his hands scarcely making contact with his date.

Hastily looking away, Theo's voice reached your ear, dangerously close, "Italian playboy, hmm? Is that what they're calling me these days?"

"Don't act like you weren't already aware," you chuckled softly, the resonance carrying a hint of mischief. "Though, I must say, the rumors might be onto something."

Theo smirked, his voice a low murmur tinged with arrogance. "Well, uccellino, despite the rumors, I assure you I am a proper gentleman..."

A sharp intake of breath caught in your throat as his nails dug deeper into the fabric of your dress, compelling you closer as the two of you gracefully swayed to the music.

"How gentle you are, indeed," you mumbled, chewing your lip as you met his gaze, the two of you dangerously close together.

Theo's gaze deepened, his lean frame bending down as his lips brushed against your ear. "I may be a gentleman, Bella," he murmured, the words a seductive whisper. "...but if you keep looking at me like that--with those big eyes, biting on your goddamn lip...we might just be fucking on the nearest surface I find."

Oh, no. This was bad. Your response stammered out before you could even think to stop it, panic flickering in your eyes.

"I-I, excuse me," you stuttered, hastily breaking away from the dance just as the song was nearing its end. The abrupt departure carried a mix of flustered embarrassment and a desperate need to collect yourself.

Seeking refuge, you maneuvered toward the drink table nestled in the far corner of the room. The dim light and distant chatter provided a momentary escape as you began to slam back drinks, attempting to drown the intensity of the encounter with Theo.

As the remnants of a calm facade settled within, a subtle shift in the atmosphere stirred your senses. A tingling awareness compelled you to glance over your shoulder, only to find yourself ensnared in the dark, intoxicating depths of Mattheo's eyes. A strange yet undeniable wave of relief washed over you, despite the fact that he stood looming directly behind, adopting the guise of casualness while pretending to grab a drink.

"Mattheo," you breathed his name, the syllables escaping your lips like a breathless sin, a recognition of the forbidden allure that surrounded him. "What are you doing?"

Mattheo's breath, a tantalizing whisper, brushed against the nape of your neck, setting your nerves ablaze. "I can't stand the way he's touching you, Raven...I can't even stand the way he's fucking looking at you..."

Your lungs seemed to stall. "This was your idea, Matty..."

"I'm well aware," he hissed, the energy radiating from him palpable in the charged air. "Fuck, you look so fucking sexy...you are so goddamn beautiful, you know that?"

"I'm not sure I do..." your heart melted, a subtle heat pulsating through your thighs. "I think I need you to tell me again."

"You are so, so fucking beautiful..." he muttered, his voice a deep husk, strained with lust as it left his throat. "You are the most captivating girl in this entire fucking room...I can't stop staring at you...I can't stop needing you..." you gasped as his hand grazed over your ass, subtly, but a feeling you'd never miss. "What do you think you're fucking doing to me, hm?"

You nibbled on your bottom lip, the flush of blood coloring your face. "At this moment...nowhere bloody close to enough."

Mattheo's voice, saturated with desire, responded, "You're absolutely right, princess...and I can't wait to have you all to myself, as soon as this dumb fucking dance is over."

A soft hum escaped you as your lids fluttered, reveling in the warmth of Mattheo's body behind you. "Unless Nott gets to me first..."

As though a switch had been flipped, Mattheo's hand seized your wrist with a subtle yet undeniable warning, a silent caution against uttering anything remotely similar again.

"Don't even joke about that, Raven," he growled, the intensity in his voice cutting through the air. "I swear to Salazar himself, what I did to Berkshire will pale in comparison to what I'll do to Nott."

"So jealous, Matty..." you purred, smirking as he slowly released your wrist. You couldn't deny that his possessive tendencies did something to you, however fucking insane they were. "So angry..."

"You like that, don't you?...dirty little slut..." you could practically hear the smirk on his perfect fucking lips, your entire body vibrating with need. "Keep tempting me, princess...I'll bend you over this table, fuck you in front of the whole fucking school...I'll point my gun at Notts fucking head and make him watch, on his knees in front of you as I fuck you stupid...how does that sound for jealous, hm?"

Breath eluded you, the sheer intensity threatening your consciousness. "Godric, help you..."

"Sorry, Raven, but the only help from above that I believe in is a sniper on a rooftop..." Mattheo's voice, a deep, honeyed drawl, slipped from his lips. "And just so you're aware, I know eighty different ways to kill a man--and I can make an easy seventy nine of them look like a bloody accident...understand?"

"Fuck..." your mind struggled to form coherent thoughts. It had been days since his last touch, and the way he spoke now made you crave him more than the very air you breathed. "I don't think I do...I think I need you to tell me again..."

"I've never been a jealous man, Raven..." Mattheo's gaze swept the surroundings, ensuring no lingering gazes were watching. Satisfied, he shifted slightly, his lips now at your other ear. "I've never envied someone for what they have or who they're with, and yet, I'm damn jealous of every asshole you smile at, everyone you openly converse with...I've never fucking wanted something that I couldn't have, a girl I couldn't get...so this, all of this...is fucking maddening."

Your lungs seemed to stall, a momentary freeze as if he'd submerged you into the heart of a raging inferno. A surge of warmth flooded through every fiber of your being, an intoxicating heat.

"I need you," your voice murmured, the words dripping with a desperate longing. "I need you in every fucking way imaginable..."

"Mm," Mattheo hummed, the warmth of his touch tracing the curve of your hip. "Such a delightfully dirty mouth for a princess..."

Feigning innocence, you lifted your gaze to meet his, a coy smile gracing your lips. "Perhaps...but even princesses have their secret pleasures, don't they, Matty?"

For a moment--a fleeting, beautiful fucking moment--your eyes locked, and it was in that secret realm, where slight smirks played on each of your lips, and the tension was fucking so thick that you could hardly breathe--where you both knew you've found what the whole fucking world was still carelessly searching for.

And it was there, that you knew--no man, no job, no fucking career could ever make you feel as happy and needed and treasured as Mattheo Riddle did. In his own, crazy, fucked up way.

Mattheo blinked. "Meet me in the washroom in forty minutes.”

—————————

Chapter 26->

[anneapocalypse]

On Wuk Lamat's Role in the Back Half of Dawntrail

(Note: You do not have to like Wuk Lamat, you do not have to like any character, that is your business; however this post is not an invitation to expound to me on why you hate her, so if you aren't open to discussing her positively, please move along.)

Wuk Lamat is vital to the back half of Dawntrail. Her presence in the story there is both narratively and thematically important and its lack would render her character arc incomplete.

For context, I have seen some comments that there should have been less Wuk Lamat in the back half of Dawntrail. I truly don't see how that would have been possible or made sense without throwing out most of what was set up in the first half, or simply writing an entirely different story. Regardless of whether you personally vibe with her, Wuk Lamat is the main character of Dawntrail; this is her story, and it's themes and narrative beats are inextricably interwoven with her character arc.

First of all, can you imagine what people (in-universe and out) would say about her if after the attack on her people and the appearance of the dome she just... stayed in Tuliyollal with Koana and let other people do all the work? She's the Vow of Resolve. Of course she's going to be at the forefront of the action. The whole point of her choosing Koana to rule with her in a new interpretation of the tradition of blessed siblings is that they have complementary strengths, and they have a benefit that blessed siblings don't: they can be in two places at once!

Second, a big part of Wuk Lamat's journey is learning about the cultures of Tural so that she can fairly preside over them all, and in Alexandria we get to see her bring that lesson to bear in a big way when she learns about the regulators and the processing of souls. She's rattled by it but pushes past that personal reaction to say, as the Dawnservant, "Please teach me of your history and culture so that I can understand the importance of this practice." In doing so she learns critical information about the situation. This is a culture so far removed from the Turali peoples Wuk Lamat knows, and they're also a separate kingdom not technically under her rule at all, but that doesn't actually change her response. She still reaches out with curiosity and compassion, always seeking to learn and understand.

As she comes to understand Alexandria's history, she also learns the context she'll need to understand Sphene when her true motivations are revealed later. Moreover, Sphene is a very clear foil for Wuk Lamat. The Dawnservant characterized by her love for her people and her desire for their peace and happiness vs. the Endless Queen whose love for her people has been twisted into something destructive and terrible.

And then there's the narrative beats about family, and particularly the loss of parents in different ways: Wuk Lamat earning the trust of her brother's abandoned son and taking him in as family, and her being there for Erenville as he struggles to come to terms with the death of a parent (something Wuk Lamat has also experienced very recently).

And that's to say nothing of how personal Zoraal Ja's betrayal is to Wuk Lamat; of course she has confront him personally. It couldn't be anyone else (except maybe Koana, and they both seem to agree that it should be her).

The Rite of Succession is not Wuk Lamat's whole character arc; it's only the first half. It's after Wuk Lamat comes into her own as Dawnservant alongside her brother that she truly shines. It is in the back half of the story, when the stakes are dramatically raised, that all the lessons she's learned in her journey will be tested, when the peace she seeks to preserve is so brutally disrupted. We get to see her struggle emotionally with the shock of that in Tuliyollal, then rise to the challenge of leadership. How she responds to all of that is her character. It is the culmination of everything the first half of the story has set up. This is still her story.

And personally, I think it's wonderful to see a female character not only featured so prominently in the story but getting so much character development and such a complete character arc.

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

The Tragedy of Haladriel - Part I

In Season 1, there is foreshadowing about how Galadriel will be responsible for “bringing Sauron back” due to her obsessive pursuit to destroy him. This is also a theme in Season 2, with her character, now, desiring to put things right and atone for her past mistake.

For the sake of not repeating myself, I recommend reading this post, first.

We foresaw that if Galadriel’s search should have continued, she might have inadvertently kept alive the very evil she sought to defeat. For the same wind that seeks to blow out a fire may also cause its spread. Gil-galad reveals to Elrond the real reason he sent Galadriel to Valinor, 1x01

In 1x04, Galadriel sees a vision of the Fall of Númenor, on the Palantír:

The red is meant to symbolize Sauron, and she’s walking towards it. In the Númenor plot in Season 1, there is a lot of weight of Galadriel being the one responsible for announcing the Fall of Númenor (which will be caused by Sauron).

In “Rings of Power”, it’s pretty much established that it was Galadriel’s pride that condemned Middle-earth to Sauron’s tyranny. 

But... is this as simple as it appears? Is it because she brought him back to Middle-earth? Or because she denied his offer? The answer is far more complex, but it’s connected with her pride, yes, and also with her meddling with Mairon’s attempt at redemption. But also with Mairon’s own choices. In boils down to both of them getting tested by the Valar, and failing.

In the end, Galadriel didn’t overcome her pride, and Mairon didn’t see his redemption through and fell back into evil, and this is pretty much in line with what Tolkien himself wrote. 

Galadriel: The Elf Transformed by Darkness

[Galadriel] had no peace within. Pride still moved [her] when, at the end of the Elder Days, the final overthrow of Morgoth, she refused the pardon of the Valar for all who had fought against him, and remained on Middle-earth. Unfinished Tales [of Númenor and Middle-earth]

When we first meet Galadriel in 1x01, we can immediately perceive she’s strong-willed, proud and rebellious, acting against orders of the High King of the Noldor, Gil-galad, in her endless hunt for Sauron, Morgoth’s sucessor and the responsible for her brother’s death.

Galadriel is also the only Elf in Middle-earth who believes that Sauron is still out there, and means to find and destroy him, at any cost. “More and more of our kind began to believe that Sauron was but a memory. And the threat, at last, was ended. I wish I could be one of them.”

Gil-galad “honors” Galadriel by granting her passage to return to Valinor, and rest in glory. But she’s set on refusing, because she’s certain Sauron will return.

Elrond: Do you truly believe seeking him out will satisfy you? That one more Orc upon the point of your blade will bring you peace? […] If you are wrong, will you lead more Elves to die in far-off lands? To convince yourself you have done enough, how many more statues would you add to this path? No one in history has ever refused the call. Do so now, it may never come again. Do so now, it may never come again. You will linger here, an outcast, poisoned in dark whispers and dreams. Galadriel: And in the West, do you think my fate would be better? Where song would mock the cries of battle in my ears? You say I have won victory over all the horrors of Middle-earth. Yet you would leave them alive in me? To take with me? Undying, unchanging, unbreaking, into the land of winter less spring? Elrond: Only in the Blessed Realm can that which is broken in you be healed. Go there. Go, and I promise you… If but a whisper of a rumor of the threat you perceive proves true, I will not rest until it is put right. You have fought long enough, Galadriel. Put up your sword.

Galadriel sees her endless pursue for Sauron as the means to earn her inner peace after everything she saw, did and endured on Middle-earth. It’s connected to her pride, yes, but also to her greatest and deepest desire of healing. And this is why she can’t stop her pursuit, even when we, the audience, watch Galadriel endanger her companions’ lives in 1x01.

It’s not just about vengeance, because, like she tells Mairon, 1x05, “one cannot satisfy thirst by drinking sea water”. Hence, Galadriel believes that, only when she destroys Sauron, will she be able to find inner peace, and heal the darkness within herself.

Halbrand: The Repentant Mairon

When Thangorodrim was broken and Morgoth overthrown, Sauron put on his fair hue again and did obeisance to Eönwë, the herald of Manwë, and abjured all his evil deeds. And some hold that this was not at first falsely done, but that Sauron in truth repented […] But it was not within the power of Eönwë to pardon those of his own order […] to receive from the Valar a sentence, in might be, of long servitude in proof of his good faith. The Silmarillion

In 2x01, Sauron’s physical form gets destroyed by Adar using Morgoth’s crown, and he spends centuries on a cave. He regains a new physical form and a new name (“Halbrand”, because “I have many names”, as it’s been established by Season 2).

When Morgoth was defeated, it was as if a great, clenched fist had released its grasp from my neck. And in the stillness of that first sunrise, at last, I felt the light of The One again. And I knew if ever I was to be forgiven... That I had to heal everything that I had helped ruin.

While wandering the Southlands, he eventually meets Diarmid (the original owner of the King of the Southlands’ heraldry pouch):

I know you’ve suffered. I can see it in your eyes. There’s another life waiting for you. You just have to turn toward it […] A sure path may crumble, but there’s always another. Often, it can lead us someplace better. Someplace good. They say there’s places across the sea, a man can escape himself. Find another path. Perhaps another life.

When Mairon arrives at Númenor, he sees it as “the place across the sea” Diarmid told him about. Where he can find another path. A island gifted by the Valar themselves to Men, and where they are ever watchful. And so, he believes this is where he can prove his good faith to the Valar and sought their forgiveness for his past sins and crimes under Morgoth.

There is not another man on this isle that knows this craft better than I. I will shovel coal if needs be, I’ll splinter wood, I’ll shape a sea anchor for you, free of charge, sturdier than anything you have ever seen. How’s that? I’m here to start anew. Lend me that chance. Please. And I won’t forget it. Halbrand/Mairon asks for work at Númenor forge, 1x03

Diarmid also tells Mairon he has to chose good everyday, and this is a callback to Gandalf in “The Hobbit” trilogy: Some believe it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found. It is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love.

Diarmid: Nightmares again? What haunts you so? Mairon: I’ve done evil. Diarmid: All of us have done things that we care not to admit. Mairon: Not like I have. Diarmid: Find forgiveness. You are alive because you have chosen good. Mairon: But what of tomorrow? Diamid: You have to choose it again. And the next day. And the next. Until it becomes a part of your nature.

We, then, see Mairon chose wrong, by not helping Diarmid and leaving him for dead, and steal his pouch. He later atones for this when he saves Galadriel from drowning. He also asks for her forgiveness, in 1x05:

And this is when something starts to change in Mairon, and he sees earning Galadriel’s forgiveness as his chance at redemption, instead of staying in Númenor in servitude (like he was meant to).

However, his bound to Morgoth (darkness) is always lingering over Mairon: when he leaves Diarmid to his death, and when he beats the Númenóreans smiths (because of Galadriel).

“The Sea is Always Right”

After Season 2, we have the confirmation that Galadriel and Mairon meeting was, indeed, by chance, and not something planned by Sauron. Nor did he summoned the sea serpent (“the Worm”).

There is a popular theory that suggests this sea creature might have been sent by Ulmo, the Vala of the Sea. This is a strong theory, since this is a Vala associated with Númenor, and both Galadriel and Mairon were on the Sundering Seas (next to both Valinor and Númenor). And this also aligns with the notion of “tides of fate” and how their meeting was the work of something greater.

Judgement of the Valar

Ours was no chance meeting. Not fate, nor destiny, nor any other words Men use to speak of the forces they lack the conviction to name. Ours was the work of something greater. You must see it. Galadriel tells Halbrand/Mairon, 1x03

When the petals of Nimloth, the White Tree of Númenor, fall, according to Queen-regent Míriel, the Faithful see in them the tears of the Valar, “a living reminder that their eyes and judgment are ever upon us.”

The eyes of the Valar weight on both Mairon and Galadriel, in Númenor. Can he see his redemption through? And can she let go of her pride?

At the surface, it’s like Elrond said in 2x02, Galadriel saw in Halbrand the lost king who could ride her to victory, and help her destroy Sauron and avenge her brother’s death. Mairon, on the other hand, coveted Galadriel’s light and believed she might help him gain his redemption by earning her forgiveness.

They were both wrong, and they both failed the test.

It’s Galadriel’s pride who tempts Mairon towards the darkness and into his old ways under Morgoth, and eventually leads him to chose deception instead on staying on Númenor in servitude.

Galadriel: A cage you have landed in because you chafe under the rags of the common. And the armor that ought to rest upon your shoulder’s weighs upon your soul. Halbrand/Mairon: Be careful, Elf. The heir to this mark is heir to more than just nobility. For it was his ancestor who swore a blood oath to Morgoth. I am not the hero you seek. For it was my family that lost the war. Galadriel tries to persuade Halbrand/Mairon to reclaim his crown as King of the Southlands (future Lord of Mordor), 1x03

“Aren’t these the seeds you planted?” Sauron asks Galadriel in 2x02 and 2x08.

Indeed, in 1x03 and 1x05 we see Galadriel being the “Morgoth” to Mairon’s “Sauron” on several occasions, and him even growing impatient with her, because she’s impulsive, aggressive, arrogant and sometimes downright offensive towards the Númenóreans. This chaotic energy recalls him, even if on a subconscious level, of Morgoth himself.

Mairon compares Galadriel to a "horse in full gallop", and advises her not to antagonize the Númenóreans (although, he's not one to talk, as we see later).

You used me. After I all but begged you to let me be (…) Find another head to crown. Halbrand/Mairon gets angry at Galadriel, 1x05

We even see Galadriel going into the forge to tempt him with promises of power, as Morgoth himself did when Mairon as a Maia of Aulë. And this is when everything chances for Mairon.

Mairon's Choice

When Galadriel is about to leave for Middle-earth, the petals of Nimloth begin to fall, and Tar-Míriel believes it’s to be a sign from the Valar: Galadriel must not leave. In the same sequence we also see Mairon, looking over Númenor.

This can mean the Valar are warning the Númenóreans about Sauron’s presence on the island, or that Sauron himself caused this to happen, to prevent Galadriel to leave without him. I think both interpretations can be correct, really.

This marks Mairon’s first deception in Season 1: him accepting to play the “King of the Southlands” role. And we have red (deception) on this shot, as well. This is the beginning of Mairon’s downfall into darkness.

Mairon now believes that Galadriel will help him achieve his redemption, because he will able to “choose good” with her, by gaining her forgiveness and healing. However, it’s the other way around. By following Galadriel’s pride, he’s one step closer to fall into his old ways, into evil. Because he chose deception, instead of following through with his initial intentions of servitude.

And, in 1x05, we, the audience, are shown *the* moment when Mairon makes this choice (deception over redemption):

Understanding Galadriel and Mairon connection

In 1x02, Galadriel and Mairon end up adrift on a raft, together. And Galadriel immediately starts to plot ways to find Sauron, once she sees the crest "Halbrand" wears. Nevertheless, this is the scene when they start to bond with each other, too.

This is also the episode where Elrond says to Durin and Disa: Where there is love, it is never truly dark. And then next scene is Galadriel and Mairon getting to know each other.

I know something of the pain you carry. I grieve for you. For those you lost. Galadriel emphatizes with Mairon, 1x02

On Tolkien lore, Elves are emphatic and compassionate beings by nature, but having Galadriel empathizing with him, appears to have a deep effect on Mairon. It probably has something to do with the fact he’s the one who caused her brother’s death, by having his werewolves kill him. He later saves Galadriel from drowing, too, maybe to "atone" for her brother's death at the hands of his servants ("an eye for an eye").

I have been searching for my peace for longer than you know. Please, for both our sakes, let me keep it. Perhaps some peace would do you good as well. Mairon tells Galadriel once they arrive at Númenor, 1x03

Both Galadriel and Mairon recognized the need for inner peace and healing in each other, and this is, maybe, why they both felt so drawn together. Both of them were seeking redemption, and saw the opportunity to get it in each other. Galadriel, herself, tells Mairon this, in 1x04: Come with me to Middle-earth. And together we will redeem both our bloodlines.

This need for redemption also connects with a recognition of past misdeeds: they have both done things (or saw them being done) they deeply regret, and it haunts them, still.

"The light of Valinor shone upon your very face, Galadriel, and you turned your back on it. Was it truly to fight the darkness or was the darkness calling to you?" Elrond asks Galadriel, 2x02

Galadriel and Mairon felt so deeply connected because they shared the same belief: only when they destroy “Sauron”, will they find inner peace, and healing from the darkness within themselves.

There was a physical attraction, sure, but these are immortal spirits, up and foremost (with Mairon not being bound to his physical form, unlike Galadriel). The connection they felt runs deeper, than just wanting to “shake the sheets” (or the forge table) with each other. Or him just being attracted to her because of her legendary beauty (Morgoth/Silmarils parallel). 

Galadriel: Thank you... For pulling me back. Mairon: Was you, pulled me back first. Galadriel: Whatever it was he did to you, and whatever it was you did... Be free of it. Mairon: I never believed I could be... Until today. Fighting at your side, I... I felt... If I could just hold on to that feeling, keep it with me always, bind it to my very being, then I...

Galadriel stopped Mairon from getting his revenge against Adar (because he was the one who destroyed his previous physical form), and, that’s the reason for him starting to believe redemption is within his reach, after all. And he thinks it’s because of Galadriel (and not due to his own choices).

And this is another one of his mistakes, because this is how he was created by Eru during the Ainulindalë ("before the breaking of the first silence"). Marion isn’t a leader: he’s a follower, a Maia in service of a Vala. That's who he's suppose to be, and how he was designed to be. He served Aulë, then Melkor/Morgoth, and now wants to serve Galadriel, believing she will guide him to the redemption he so desperately wants and seeks.

[gaysindistress]

Allies or Enemies - one

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

pairings: Dragonborn!bucky x f!reader

Summary: The reality of her cruel world is more evident than ever before when her stepfather sends her to her death under the guise of diplomacy. Y/n, the expendable daughter of a scared king, must find a way to secure her own protection among the Dragonborn and she will do that by whatever means necessary.

Warnings: mild cursing

Word count: 3.3k

series masterlist | main masterlist

taglist: @unaxv

“The king requires your presence.”

“But were I to require that he does not bother me, my request would be ignored. We cannot always have the things that we desire,” I sigh whilst continuing to read the journal in front of me.

The handwriting is terrible, so much so that I can barely finish a page in 5 minutes but given that the king has been demanding my presence at every chance that he gets, I continue with my struggles. An older woman stands in the doorway and I can feel her glare at me with a hatred that I imagine is reserved only for me. After all, my mother is the one who married her lover.

“Now.”

The finality in her tone would’ve caused a younger me to look up in fear but I’ve grown used to the stern reality of our world. As the eldest daughter of the queen, I’ve been educated in every form of manipulation that can be conveyed through the voice. As the child of the late king and the unwanted stepchild to the current king, I’ve been taught that I am the only protection that I have. No one will come to my aid or offer me guidance when I need it. No one will tend to my wounds when the cruel servants of the king lash me with their words. No one will care for me in the way that my younger sisters are looked after. No one would even bat an eye if I were to vanish into thin air. They might celebrate if that were to happen.

The woman whom I despise just as much as she me repeats herself with a heavy huff as if I have greatly inconvenienced her by breathing the same air as her or simply existing. Whether it be my existence or continued residence at the palace that is more vexing to her is yet to be determined I’ve decided.

The journal before me bound in precious leather and gold thread suddenly becomes unimportant. While it details the various races of creatures that occupy these lands and would prove to be useful in my studies, it will do nothing to shield me from the king’s wrath. My fingers drift away from the frayed edges and allow it to close by itself, prompting small dust specks to flutter around it. The black silk ribbon that I wound around the end of my braid is dangling above the curious journal, trailing its delicate ends over the monstrous illustrations hidden in its opulent bindings. The ribbon, much like my heart, yearns to open it once more and lose myself in its pages but is bound by duty to ignore such a yearning.

“Your highness,” she demands in a tight voice, “We are to leave now.”

Rolling my eyes would most certainly earn me a slap across the face but it doesn’t stop me from squeezing them shut in frustration. Standing up from my desk, I swipe at the dust on my lap, smearing gray streaks across the thick black fabric of my over skirt. She makes a small noise of disgust at the action, no doubt complaining loudly in her mind that being presentable is not something I know how to do. We make eye contact for a brief moment and she is quick to turn on her heel, forcing me to nearly jog to catch up so that I may follow this hateful woman to my certain death.

The Beloved King Anthony Starkov had been a wonderful king at first. After the invasion of the Dragonborn and the apparent failure by my father to protect his nation, Anthony seemed like a god sent. He rode in on a pure white horse with the head of the most fearsome Dragonborn knight on his sword as he declared that he was now king. My mother, the poor grieving widower queen, had no choice but to accept his proposal and promise to care for us. He’s doted on her, showered her with affection and gifts, and most importantly he treated me as if I were his own. Following my father’s death and living in fear of Dragonborn attack’s, a protective shield was all I prayed for. My mother could barely protect herself from the onslaught of the court’s cruel words and it became apparent that soon they would turn on me. It was not for a lack of trying surely but due to the fact that she was not a man. As the angry old woman who calls herself my advisor likes to remind me, a woman is only as powerful as the man that marries her and that meant my mother had no power until Anthony.

The moment that Anthony took the crown and later my mother’s hand, we’d all thought that this would be the bright moment in our bleak lives that we’d been looking for. The nation of York was at peace when it had been a foreign concept to me and many others after the Dragonborn had launched their attack. The love that Anthony and my mother shared burned brighter than the terror that my father had allowed into our land.

Until the rumors of his cruel actions behind closed doors began to spread.

The help always gossiped against themselves and no one truly paid any mind.

That is until evidence accompanies these rumors.

My mother did well to hide what she could but once again there was only so much that she could do to protect me. When my sisters came along, I presume that Anthony no longer felt anger towards her but instead towards me, the last reminder of the Failed King. I’d always had pitying stares and endured hushed conversations where my name slipped between their fingers as they whispered to each other.

Poor child.

I heard that she’s going to be married off as soon as possible.

I heard that she’s just as weak as her father.

Poor child.

I ignored them until I couldn’t anymore. I ignored them until I had been sent to live with a distant cousin to be “taught the art of diplomacy” and was told to never return to the palace. With this distant cousin, I did learn the art of diplomacy as planned but as the craft of cutting words and cunning actions. I’d grown rather talented at navigating the complicated relations of neighboring nations, so much so that foreign diplomats asked for me by name. My ability to seamlessly blend together warring cultures and broken bonds earned me fame beyond that of my late father. Of course like any wicked stepparent, Anthony demanded I return to court so that my talents may be best utilized to serve the nation.

What a wretched lie to shorten my leash.

So began my rebellion.

The older woman who is also my ill informed advisor, Pepper, stomps down the dim hall towards the grand battle room. Her reddish blonde hair hardly moves behind her as she makes a determined path to the king despite the curls it’s been styled into. It’s rather shocking to see her hair down at all considering she is usually the one to lecture me on the propriety of society and how as a member of the royal family, I must uphold that. After she’s red in the face and moments away from exploding with fury, I like to remind her that I’m the forgotten eldest daughter. No one thinks of me as the face of this family or that of modern society either.

Despite its name, the battle room cannot be considered grand by any stretch of the imagination. Much like the rest of the palace, it is old and worn from economic fatigue. Where gold used to be brushed across every inch, there are now only flecks of lackluster yellow. Where towering windows used to bathe the halls in sunlight, there are now curtains drawn to prevent the Dragonborn from seeing movement within the palace. There is no finery to be seen and what was once a regal sight to behold is the stark reminder that we are at war with enemies who have every advantage.

With a deafening boom, ragged guards who’ve past their battle prime push the battle room doors and alert the king to our arrival. Pepper stomps right to where the king is sitting among pillars of maps and letters and whispers something in his ear. I don’t need to know whatever lies she’s telling him because his expression tells me enough. His ever present scowl deepens when he looks up and settles his disgusted gaze on me.

Dust swirls from my skirts as I shift on my feet and hit the wood paneled floors beneath me with a silent loudness as he stares at me.

A single question hangs in the air as he attempts to peer into my soul, “Were you aware that the Dragonic bastards were planning to create an alliance with the Elven counsel?”

Of course no warm welcome or small talk. Straight to the heart of the reason he even dragged me back here in the first place.

“Was I aware of this alliance?” I calmly restate, arching a brow at the man who sits high on his worthless throne and judges me. “Had I been, I would have informed you the instant I knew, your highness.”

In truth, I had heard snippets of clipped conversations about something brewing between the two nations but nothing raised concern within me. Rather nothing could’ve convinced me to speak to this man willingly.

The throne is a disgusting sight to behold with its mangled wood and tattered black cloth that flows in the still wind behind it. Black as night and deafening as the ever present silence that fills when you’re dying, this throne is what haunted me as a child and whispers promises of my demise now as an adult. The throne smiles when it senses my anger and the man who is occupying it becomes a conduit for its emotions as that familiar sinister glint flickers in his dark eyes.

Anthony throws a glance to the dust that has fallen around me with disappointment before speaking, “Do not play games with me, child.”

My eyes narrow at his choice of words.

“I assure you,” I start as I take a step forward as the heels of my boots make light taps on the wood, “I am not playing games with you. As I said before, if I had heard anything about this rumored alliance then you would have been made aware as well but alas I did not know.”

Anthony’s hollow chuckle causes my hair to stand on end but my face is schooled into perfect indifference. I allow my expression to portray only mild concern for the safety of our nation and that gets under his skin more than anything.

“If that is the position that you wish to maintain, then so be it.”

I roll my eyes at him and his flash with rage for a brief moment. The king settles back into his chair as he smirks at me, “you are my most sought after diplomat, are you not?”

Where is he going with this? I think to myself while I nod.

“Of course you are. You have your father’s legendary silver tongue. I should think that you would be the perfect person to forge an alliance on the nation’s behalf.``

My heart stills while my body becomes completely frigid. Suddenly the thick fabrics of my skirts and tight corset are useless against the chill that has begun to creep up my spine. The king holds back an all out grin and clenches his jaw. The action tightens and sharpens his already pronounced jaw, giving him the appearance akin to a statue. A crown of graying black waves adores his head but it does nothing to soften the severe look on his tanned face. “I have arranged for you to travel to the Dragonic capital and broker a peace treaty of sorts between us and them. We cannot allow this war to rage on any longer if they intend to ally themselves with the Elven counsel. This nation will not survive.”

“You expect me to do what?” I snarl with a curl of my lip which sends the entire room on high alert. Pepper gasps as she steps behind Anthony and the guards have arranged themselves in a defensive circle.

The king on his feet in seconds, brandishing a dull sword and pointing it at me albeit still a safe distance away. My gaze makes a slow path from the pathetic sword to his furious face. It is not the first time that he’s drawn a weapon on me and I doubt it will be the least.

“Your father is the reason this nation is all but decimated and it will be you who corrects that mistake. You will do as I demand of you and you will do it well if you wish for your mother to live.”

“You would not dare.” I hiss at him as I step closer. He steps back and says my name but I interrupt him with a roar of anger.

“You cannot expect me to willingly walk into a viper’s den, provoke the beast within, and survive, let alone make it obey me. You must know that this means almost certain death for me and I will fail. It is an impossible task, your highness. I will not do it.”

He hesitates, something that I haven’t seen him do ever, and I want to take pride in being the one to cause his hesitation but it’s short lived. His lip curls up into a nasty smirk as he sneers at me and circles his desk to stand mere inches from me.

“We might share blood but you are not my step daughter or family in any sense of the word. You are an abomination, a blight upon this earth. You are a dark stain in the fabric of our history and one that I will spend the remainder of my reign trying to scrub clean. You are a beastly girl who knows no discipline nor manners and nothing can forgive the torment that you've put this court through. Understand that is a blessing and that I should sentence you to death outright for simply being the offspring of the Failed King.”

Too caught up in the king’s self-serving monologue, I’d failed to hear the sound of thundering wings and the dreadful slap of scaled boots marching towards the battle room. I’d missed how the palace seemed to shrink around us in fear while its enemy stormed its halls with permission. I’d missed how only Anthony and I remained while the others had fled for their safety. I’d failed to notice that the air grew hazy and thick with smoke instead of tension as I had assumed.

Just as I catch the scent of burnt embers, I turn to glance over my shoulder and see the most important thing that I had failed to notice; a knight clad in iridescent black armor who is standing just behind me.

Towering above everyone and everything in the room, the knight seems to be almost double the size of any mortal man I know. As I spin to face it, the hulking frame shrouds me in complete darkness. My eyes make the nearly seven foot long ascent to where a face might be if it weren’t for the helmet that chills me to my core as I recognize it.

It’s the helmet of a Dragonborn knight.

They all wear the same sleek black helmet that resembles their beastly forms; six large horn-like spikes that stretch from the sides and top while the chin comes to a narrow point like a dragon’s nose. The helmet is otherwise plain with engravings or markings to decorate it aside from two sets of ruby glass eyes that stare down at me. It covers the knight’s entire face and head, leaving not even a sliver of skin or strand of hair to be seen. Save for the nature creases where the armor is cut to allow for movement, it lacks any decorations or embellishments much like the helmet. I’d once been told that it’s iridescent quality was due to the fact it was made from their dragon form’s scales instead of metal like mortal knights’ but I’ve never been close enough to one to ask. This is the first time I've been close to a Dragonborn at all, knight or not. My father had allowed a handful of their diplomats into the palace before his death but they’d used they’re mortal forms and only stayed for however long was absolutely necessary. I scarcely remember them aside from their silently menacing presence that would engulf rooms before they walked in and the scent of burnt embers that clung to their skin. Aside from those few past encounters, my knowledge comes from the journals I’ve snuck into the palace but nothing would’ve prepared me for this moment.

The knight simply stares down at me with those double ruby eyes before lifting its head to look at Anthony. With its gaze off of me, I look around it to see that there are only three more Dragonborn knights. Given how hostile our nations’ relationship has been, I would’ve expected to see a small army. Instead it seems that their leader did not think they would face much resistance or maybe these knights are more vicious than I’d been led to believe.

Anthony lets out a shuddered breath before he speaks, “You will leave with them in two days time.”

The knight glances back at me. The clawed gauntlets that cover its hands make a small noise when they come to rest on the hilt of a onyx greatsword. It stiles a cord of deep rooted terror within me that I can’t stop from setting ablaze to my nerves.

they’re not like us

they’re not like us

they’re not like us

It echoes throughout my mind while we stare at each other. The knight cocks its head and I can only assume it's studying me as I am it.

Anthony’s unsteady footsteps stop me from getting caught up entirely in the knight before me.

“She’ll never forgive you,” I whisper without looking away from the knight. I don’t need to look to know that my cowardly stepfather is retreating to safety and leaving me with these monstrous knights.

“She’ll be more thankful that her true daughters are alive.”

The other knights approach us, causing Anthony to let out a shaky chuckle in fear and stumble as he steps back.

One speaks, his gravelly voice rumbles the walls of this weak palace and shakes dust all around us, “The binding ceremony will take place tonight. Have you made the preparations as requested?”

I hear Anthony mumble something along the lines of ‘yes’ with a rambling of nervous explanations. The only words I can focus on are “binding ceremony”. They fall off my tongue in confusion and disbelief without me realizing.

“For your protection,” another more guttural voice answers. It’s quieter, one could not call it gentle but the low tone might be considered such to their kind. The knight before me waits for me to say something and when I don’t, he adds, “you will be safe with us. No harm shall befall you under our guard.”

A sarcastic chuckle wants to spill out but I keep my lips sealed. Safety is an illusion for any member of the royal family and it’s one that I saw through many years ago. I have no doubt that the knights will protect me as long as I prove useful but the moment an alliance is forged, that protection will end. Anthony will kill me the moment I step foot back into his nation and I have no allies of my own to rely on me.

The reality of this cruel world is more evident than ever before; I must find a way to secure my own protection and I will do that by whatever means necessary.

[fictionadventurer]

Top 5 obscure light vintage novels! (Not sure if my previous ask got eaten, but also curious about this one specifically)

The strictest definition of what I consider "obscure light vintage novels" requires a book to meet a lot of criteria:

Published before 1960

Not recommended to me by anyone I know personally (including on tumblr)

Doesn't have a fancy Oxford-Classics-type edition with an introduction. (And none of the author's other books are well-known enough to have one)

Has a realistic setting

Ideally written by a woman or centered around a female main character

Which means that very few books fit this list. But of those few, here are my top five.

Desire by Una Silberrad: Flawed but fascinating Edwardian novel about an eccentric heiress who meets a soulful author and eventually winds up working for him when she loses her money and he inherits his father's pottery business. Fascinating characters, amazing romance, lots of interesting themes. I'm also going to count the author's other novels in this category, because she's come to epitomize "obscure light classic" for me. The Good Comrade is a much frothier novel with some great characters, and Curayl is highly flawed, but its silver-tongued hero lives rent-free in my head.

The Ark by Margot Benary-Isbert: I finished this book less than twenty-four hours ago (so I could include it on this list). It's a 1953 German novel set in 1947, about a refugee family building a home after the end of the war. It reads like, if you can believe it, a cozy post-apocalyptic novel. These people are living through some terrible things, but they make the best of things and manage to find joy. It's chock-full of fascinating details about life in post-war Germany, and reminds you that the people on that side of the war were human too, losing people and places they loved, and doing their best to live in terrible times. There are some superstitious elements later on that I wasn't crazy about, but otherwise I adored this story.

The Romance of a Shop by Amy Levy: Novel from the 1880s about four sisters who open a photography studio to support themselves after their father's death. Extremely underwritten (one of the girls meets an old flame and marries him between chapters), but a very easy, pleasant read with interesting historical details, and some nice sisterly relationships that remind me just a bit of Little Women meets Oscar Wilde.

The Heir of Redclyffe and Countess Kate by Charlotte Mary Yonge: Books by one of the bestselling authors of the Victorian age who's completely forgotten today. Both get too preachy at times, but make up for it by having amazing characters. The first one is a family saga about cousins caught up in an old feud, and the second is like if Anne Shirley suddenly found out she was a countess.

The Rosary by Florence Barclay: The bestselling novel of, like, 1920. It gets very melodramatic, but I was also surprised at how grounded and witty the characters were. I remember very little about it, but I have fond memories of the reading experience, and it earns a place on this list because when I want to find an "obscure vintage light novel", on some level I'm thinking I want to find a book like this.

I know you didn't ask, but I find myself wanting to list five novels that don't quite meet the strict criteria above, but are close enough that I want to highlight them.

The Dean's Watch and The Rosemary Tree by Elizabeth Goudge: Goudge isn't exactly obscure in this section of tumblr (which is why I heard of her in the first place), but she's obscure enough that a lot of her books are out-of-print or otherwise hard to get, and these two in particular are among the best books I've ever read.

The Blue Castle by L.M. Montgomery: Montgomery is extremely well-known, and this book has an ever-growing and very devoted cult following, so it's not exactly obscure, but it's much less well-known than most of her other books. A deep cut, if you will. It fits perfectly within the light vintage novel category, and has long been one of my favorite novels of all time.

Lady Audley's Secret by Mary Elizabeth Braddon: It's got an Oxford Classics (or similar imprint) edition, and is well-known as one of the very first sensation novels, but it's not exactly known among people who don't deep-dive into Victorian literature. I read this last month and loved it. It's a cozy sensation novel with an amazing main character, great atmosphere, and a plot that manages to grip you even while not much happens.

Mrs. Miniver by Jan Struther: It's not exactly obscure if it has a movie adaptation, but from what I know, the movie basically ignores the book, which isn't that well-known today. Charming slice-of-life from the very early days of WWII England.

Helen by Maria Edgeworth: Not exactly beloved, and Edgeworth isn't exactly obscure, but this is a lesser-known novel that fits well within this category. The first half had some moments that were so dull I considered not finishing, but the second half was gripping enough that I can mention it as a nice, obscure surprise of a book.

[bonefall]

I kind of feel evil for asking this, but how does the fact that Brightheart is considered the hottest molly in the forest while Cloudtail is considered rather ugly affect their relationship? (Also the love the Better Bones Au!)

I think in other couples, it might, but for them it doesn't. Y'know? Other cats might be shallow, or insecure that they're considered so unattractive while their mate is "out of their league," but that's simply not Cloudtail and Brightheart.

You see, a short king like Cloudtail only has a certain amount of floorspace with which to store their confidence. In a tall guy, it spreads all out and gets thin. In a boy who is short? It's concentrated. Absolutely distilled to its purest essence. You cannot divide him. This man is a carbon molecule, and babey, Brightheart is 6 electrons.

He's like Danny Devito. When does Danny Devito ever stop and lament his appearance? That man is a comedic orb. That's Cloudtail.

Brightheart ironically is the one who's more insecure. The death of her cousin and Bluestar's Dishonor Title, Swifthound, really wrecked her. She has a bad habit of feeling like she doesn't deserve the good things she has.

In BB's Clan Culture, scars are desirable. She feels like she doesn't deserve to have such markers of strength. What she did in following Swiftpaw towards the dogs that night wasn't noble, it was foolish. So walking away from it with trophies that she feels she didn't earn is painful.

In a way, she feels like that with Cloudtail, too. What did she do to deserve him? He supports her in everything she does. He does everything in his power to make her feel better. When she suggests surrogating for their friends in other Clans? He thinks that's great! If she wanted to go on a trip with Cinderheart to the town? He'd cheer! She knows, deep in her heart, if she ever DID want to become a Cleric, Cloudtail loves her enough to let her go.

And that hurts, sometimes. When she struggles with self-worth. She feels like it's not fair she's loved so much.

So... basically, maybe in another couple who was more shallow. But these two have something a lot deeper going on.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

Ectoberhaunt 2023. Day 17. Blood and Flesh.

CW: TW! Recurrent pregnancy loss. TW!Abortion. TW!Bleeding

Maddie: Jack, we need to talk. I know this is gonna sound crazy but I think Phantom, the ghost boy, is actually our son. And I’m sure Danny and Jazz know about it too.

What if we bring down on the Fentons the knowledge that they have ghost children without revealing Phantom’s identity?

Text+Chat+Memes=Prompt:

Of course Maddie wanted to have children. But…Not in college. She felt it was too soon. The lack of stable earnings and time were not conditions for growing a new person. She had nothing to give this potential child. Maddie did not hesitate long before deciding to have an abortion.

And for years, neither Jack nor Maddie have thought about this unplanned pregnancy.

Ectoplasm is toxic, obviously. But since ectology was only recently recognized by the scientific community, no one has ever fully analysed the effects of ectoplasm on the body.

When Maddie and Jack had the misfortune to become one of those couples experiencing recurrent pregnancy loss, they immediately suspected that the ectoplasm in their lab contributed to their reproductive difficulty. Put simply, death didn’t go with life.

They may not always have followed the lab’s safety rules perfectly, but is that why one of their first works will be exposing a teratogenic effect of ectoplasm? What if they’ve lost their only chance to be biological parents?

What a cruel price to pay for the work of life. Jack and Maddie so dreamed of their little happiness. Do they have to forget about it?

No, the Fentons don’t give up that easily!

They may have to spend a few years doing only theoretical work, but they’ll try again.

~~~~~

Ectoplasm is toxic. Tests, hopes…and a few miscarriages too.

Jazz was a miracle. Fenton family literally didn’t get out of hospitals to look after her health.

Danny was an even bigger miracle, because they didn’t have any hope of having a second child. Maddie and Jack didn’t even plan this pregnancy. Danny was born premature, with signs of hypoxia... but alive. His potential twin was not so lucky. Single intrauterine fetal death (sIUFD).

Right. Death still followed them. Of course, parents didn’t tell Jazz and Danny that they might have had another brother. It was their grief. Children had no reason to know about it.

~~~~~

"You filthy ghost!" Maddie stopped to rest after a chase for elder Phantom.

"Exhausted?" Dan was flying at a safe distance from her. "Maybe it’s time to retire, Maddie? A little exercise never stopped you before." The ghost was clearly making fun of her.

"Not going to happen, I’ll do it until I die if Amity Park need it. And my son will be here to stop you instead of me after me or Jack."

The smile on Ghost’s face faded immediately. "I hope he die first." The ghost whispered in a hoarse voice."It's best for everyone."

"What did you say?" Maddie rose up in anger, pointing her weapon at it.

"Has any thought crossed your mind about what happens to your children if anything happens to you? Go out every day and yell like idiots, attracting all the ghosts around." An ectoblast is blowing right up against her temple and crashing into the wall. The ghost frowned and turned away. "Did you ever think that Danny wouldn’t want to live without you? Did you think that he would be hurt if he had to lose you? No! Is it always about your stupid desires and ambitions, Mom."

For a moment Maddie thought he it was looking at her like it had seen a ghost, which was obviously just ridiculous. Maddie wanted to laugh about it, but somehow she couldn’t. Why would the ghost trying to fake human emotion care to hide the tears that gather in the corners of its eyes?

Maddie tried to get it out of her head. Anyway, it’s not that important. Phantoms have always been atypical. She’ll come home, take a warm shower, and tell Danny how much she loves him.

~~~~~

Maddie: My son is a strong boy and Dan: He’s weak! He’s a freak! He can’t handle it, Mom!

Maddie had long pondered this theory since the day Jack admitted that Phantom had misspoke during the fight and called him his father but she had never experienced it before. Or maybe she wasn’t paying attention.

Maddie: Hey, Phantom, just a question, how old are you? Dan: Why are you changing the subject? Twenty-four, twenty-five… Hell, I don’t remember. Stopped counting after 17, nobody cares anyway. And her first months dating Jack were 24 years ago. Right. The eyebrows, the shape of eyes and the height is all from Jack. The waist and the side eye from her. Theoretically. Still need more proof.

~~~~~~

Dan: Is this all your frail human form can do?

Maddie walked past the Casper High playground when she saw a ghost flying around. It was one of the new ones. The Phantom’s full-grown specimen. More dangerous. And totally unpredictable. Maddie squeezed the gun harder. Her theories are just theories and she can’t have such a dangerous spirit near the school, near her children.

Danny: Shut up and give me my bottle of water, asshole.

This voice. Maddie stopped in shock. What’s her boy doing so close to a ghost? He’s always so terrified of them.

Dan: No pull-ups, no water. You need muscles. Without them you’re gonna look like a worm if you’re gonna grow up to be taller than Jack as I am.

Danny: Just so you know, you’re a terrible big brother and I hate you.

Dan: Well, that just means I’m doing a good job.

Danny: When Mom asks who destroyed the furniture in Vlad’s house I’m pointing at you. A little run around town will be good for you. And as they say, Older siblings are like your parents' personal science fair. They're a bunch of experiments.

Dan: ...Just so you know, it sounded completely insane. Terrible. Good job, but don’t go near Dani with those jokes. Jazz will kill us both for setting a bad example. Danny: Bad example? Since when has a good sense of humor become a bad example? Dan: Shut up. Drink water and go to the shower. Jazz is gonna kick my ass if you die of overheating.

Danny: Huh, afraid of one know-it-all? When dad chased you with a bazooka, you didn’t seem scared.

Dan: Сome on, dad has a lot of strengths, yeah, but the ability to aim isn't one of them. And not

Dani: driving a car?

Danny: Right. Wait, how long have you been eavesdropping? Dani: Long enough to blackmail you both. Сomputer’s mine for the rest of the week. Dan and Danny: Shit.

~~~~~

The Invisobill. or Phantom. Ha. Danny Fenton…Danny Phantom. Weston boy said crazy things. Yeah. But what if he was only partially wrong? Everything except the color of its eyes and hair is so much like Danny's. If this were typical manipulation from a ghost hoping to shake the desire of ghost hunters to chase a creature similar to their child, he would have had to give it up months ago. But phantom did not change his disguise. This is his true form. What about ghost girl and older ghost? They are also so young.

Maddie could not sleep. In her head struggled scientist and woman weighed down by feelings of guilt and shame. She was tormented by philosophical problems and religious issues. No, Maddie, not even a neural tube is formed at that time. It was just a collection of cells. It’s not a person. It doesn’t feel pain. And ghosts do not too. Right? Is it even acceptable to compare such things? Is it possible that a ghost is not the remnant of negative human emotions and memories? What is responsible for its formation then? What is the purpose of such a ghost? And more importantly, how long have these ghosts been near and they did not notice? Has the portal become a source of energy necessary for their existence in the physical plane? Or is it only they who have not seen them?

So painful. It’s so unpleasant to think about what monsters they look like to their dear Danny and Jazz. Ghosts or not, she threatened creatures who might have been part of their family in front of her babies. God, naive teens must think that three Phantoms are their siblings or something. Of course! That explains the disappearance of fenton thermos and the way the Phantoms sneak into the portal and Danny’s always somewhere in trouble and…Oh my God, they could be in so much danger! How long has this been going on? No, the real question is..Hm, if this is going on for so long, why haven’t the ghosts done anything…evil? If their nature is in the destruction then why didn’t anything happen? Jack and she would never have missed something that would hurt their children.

~~~~~~

The fight between the Skulker and Invisobill was particularly fierce this time. Maddie was unlucky to be in one of the damaged buildings. But who is she if not a scientist? She will find a way to benefit in such a situation.

Unnecessary risk, completely unprofessional. But… The debris of the wall does not lie on her very tightly and the weapon still with Maddie. Yeah. She has to test her theory. She has to. She can get up and leave if she needs to. Right? A little dizziness never killed anyone. She just feels cold and sounds are strange. Maddie: Help. Help! Someone! M-Maddie? An insecure voice with an echo sounds. Yes, it's near. Maddie: Help! I can’t.. I can’t get up. T-Hard to breathe. Danny: Mum! Mama, hold on, I’m coming.

Phantom checks her pupillary reflex. Who taught him that? Jazz? The touch of his hand, so cold and shaky. Now Maddie really doesn't feel so good. It’s good that the ghost is her boy. She doesn’t have to worry about anything happening to people around. Neither he nor Danny know how to lie. She can breathe. Just cover her eyes for a moment and… Just a few seconds. Phantom:Jazz, Jazz! Call an ambulance. I don’t know what to do. I..I can’t just make mum intangible. What if she has a crush syndrome and I make it worse or… Her boy. Why is Danny so scared? Danny: Tucker, she is bleeding and she’s not responding to me and… Sshh, my little star, is all right. Mom just needs to lie down and rest a little.

~~~~~~

Maddie could not believe that she had actually passed out. But the time spent in the hospital gave her enough time to think about everything.

Maddie: Jack, we need to talk. I know this is gonna sound crazy but I think Phantom, the ghost boy, is actually our son. And I’m sure Danny and Jazz know about it too.

Jack: Honey, are you sure we don’t need to double-check if you have a concussion?

~~~~~~

Maddie and Jack decide to watch surveillance videos for the first time. After all, it concerns the safety of their children, they have the right to know what happens in the house in their absence. Especially when the ghosts are nearby. Children *live in their own sitcom*:

They have seen enough. Maddie decides to check chats on Jazz’s phone. It’s for their safety, only. She’s a good mother but what if the ghosts are up to something?

The chat was so..Teenage? And Chaotic. Normal? No, definitely not. How many times have they punished Danny unfairly? Did Jazz learn to lie and they didn’t even notice? And what the hell, why were they joking about dissection. It’s just awful. They need to talk immediately. No, it will look suspicious. They need to try to make contact with ghosts. And then they’ll all be grounded. All five.

Oh, and she thought two kids were a lot of work. How are they gonna handle three more with the bizarre biology ectology? Do they have hobbies, interests? They are definitely more complicated than theblob-ghosts. Was she wrong? Do they have emotions, a need for socialization? Can she trust her emotions in this matter?

~~~~Bonus~~~~

"What the hell happened to freak’s neck?!"

Danny: Um, excuse me, ma'am, he’s been doing Hatha yoga in India for years. Practice opens up amazing flexibility in the joints! Right, brother?

Dan: Fuck off.

Ma'am: Don’t take me for an idiot! What about his skin color then? Jack: You have something against my son’s tan? Dan: I told you going shopping with me was a bad idea. Dani: If you didn’t scare everyone around, it wouldn’t be so bad.

Dan:...I didn’t even try to do it this time. Why is she meddling?!

~~~Bonus~~~~

Dan: Why am I only third? Dani: Because I have successfully stabbed Danny in the back when he did not expect it. With you he is always waiting for a trick. This makes me much more successful than you :)

[mattastr0phic]

Myricle Week 8 + 9 - DUNGEON MESHI AU

The SCP is a guild that works to secure and contain dungeons while protecting those built around them, like the Canaries. Every contained dungeon becomes an SCP site that accepts new recruits from neighboring towns and regulate the goods coming in and out to maintain the safety of those towns from the dungeon. Their members, indicated by the retrieval charms on their wrists, are permitted to study the layout and ecosystems of the dungeon to apply them to magic use and monster handling, higher level researchers earning the permit to explore deeper levels.

Clef often helps train new recruits to the guild on monster combat, but in his spare time accompanies Myriad into the lower levels. Meanwhile, Myriad is almost always found studying the monsters’ relationships with their environment. They say in the lower levels you can catch her becoming one of them, but the rumors have never been confirmed. The two are well known for keeping their secrets from the rest of the guild, and none pry as they’re high level adventurers. The can of worms that’d be opened if someone was foolish enough to try and find out…

SPOILERS FOR DUNGEON MESHI UNDER THE CUT!

Clef is actually the demon of the dungeon walking among the guild members. His hunger for desire has long been sated in Myriad, whose eternal death cycle even returns her appetite, which in itself is an ever-changing taste, compounded by other people’s memories stored within the stone hung in a pouch around their neck, also holding her soul.

At first it’s only a mesmerizing addiction, a mutual use of each other, where Clef devours Myriad and in return they analyze both the demon and command parts of the dungeon, somewhat of a half-dungeon lord. In reality, she doesn’t require much of its power at all, wanting to study the behaviors of its inhabitants naturally. Only a few outside inputs are needed for specific situations, which are the instances they may use their power for. Clef and Myriad’s relationship only becomes something more when the two realize they aren’t in each other’s company just to use each other anymore - they’ve come to coexist and simply want to be with the other.

[differentpostrebel]

Lost and Found: A Pirate’s Promise: 

This image would represent Sanji Fighting the Candies for the recipes.

A/N: Welcome guys! We are now on Chapter 7! This chapter is long! With both POVs from Sanji and Y/N, but there's also a few surprise guests at the end of the chapter.. Wink wink. As always thank you guys for following along! As always I have the chapters linked, chapter 8 will be worked on tonight! Now without further ado let's begin! 

Y/N is an established pirate and a formidable warrior, with the third highest bounty in the Straw Hat crew. She's not just another member; her strength and skills have earned her a respected spot among the crew.

Sanji, our favorite lovesick cook, falls head over heels for Y/N almost immediately. True to his nature, he tries every trick in the book to catch her attention, from cooking her favorite meals to showering her with compliments. On the other hand, Y/N may have a small crush on Sanji, but she’s cautious and focused on her goals as a pirate.

As the story progresses, that small crush gradually blossoms into something more profound, but their journey together won't be easy. With the chaos of the New World looming, the dangers they face will test their bond and loyalty to each other. Will their love be strong enough to survive the trials ahead, or will the perils of their pirate life tear them apart?

Get ready for an emotional rollercoaster filled with angst, action, and a dash of romance. I'm thrilled to take you on this adventure with Y/N, Sanji, and the rest of the Straw Hat crew!

Word Count: 7.3K

Sanji x Reader, Sanji X Y/N, One piece x reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7 (Here) ,

Chapter 7: A Test of Will 

Y/N POV

"Y/N… I… I can't believe you saved me back there," Sam says, his voice shaky as you both return to the hospital quarters. You can tell the fight against the King is still fresh in his mind, just as it is in yours. The sheer power the King wielded was unlike anything you'd ever faced. The punch he delivered to your midsection had left you on the brink of unconsciousness—astonishing in its force.

"Sam," you grunt as he begins to examine your injuries, checking to see if any other parts of your body were affected. "Like I said back there, you helped me when I was injured. You and John both saved me from the brink of death." A shiver runs down your spine as you recall the moment, the fear of losing everything. You smirk and add, "We’re friends now."

"The King was impressed with your tenacity and fire, Y/N," John finally speaks up, glancing out the window where the moonlight spills into the room. Two days had passed since you arrived on this all-male island, and the lack of a boat to return to Sabaody and rejoin your crew weighs heavily on your mind.

"I wasn’t going to let some man undermine me, John," you reply, your tone sharp. "Besides, the ass had it coming." You wince as Sam tightens the bandages around your wounds, his hands gentle but firm.

"Still, no one has come close to rattling him like you did," Sam admits, a mix of admiration and concern in his voice.

You nod, then turn to John with a question that's been nagging at you. "I do have a question, John, if I may?"

John nods, gesturing for you to continue.

"How did the King manage to divide the floor in two with just a punch? It wasn’t just brute strength—there was something more to it," you ask, replaying the moment in your mind.

John sighs, looking thoughtful as he begins to explain. "It's the technological advancements we have on this island. The King ensures everyone is equipped to handle any enemy that might challenge us. That punch wasn’t just the result of his natural power—it was amplified by a device he wears."

"A device?" you echo, intrigued.

John nods, stepping closer to you. "It’s a ring. When the King clenches his fist, the ring activates, creating a glove that can be manipulated depending on what the wearer desires. For the King, it enhances his strength exponentially, allowing him to cause damage to the ground or any object he targets."

Your eyes widen as you process this information. "So it’s like a weapon disguised as jewelry?"

"Exactly," John confirms. "The ring channels the island's advanced technology, and in the King's case, it gives him the strength of ten men. It’s what allowed him to split the floor with that punch and what makes him so formidable in battle."

"That explains a lot," you mutter, your mind racing with the possibilities. "But still, a device like that… it's almost cheating."

John chuckles softly. "Perhaps, but on this island, survival is the ultimate goal. The King uses every tool at his disposal to ensure he remains in power."

You lean back, processing everything. "Then I’ll need to find a way to counter it if I ever face him again."

Sam and John exchange glances, concern etched on their faces. "Y/N, be careful. The King doesn’t take kindly to those who oppose him," John warns.

You smirk, feeling a surge of determination. "I’m not planning to go down that easily. If the King thinks he can intimidate me with some fancy ring, he’s got another thing coming."

Sam smiles weakly as he finishes bandaging your wounds. "Just… don’t push yourself too hard, Y/N."

"Don’t worry, Sam," you reply, your voice firm. "I’ve got too much to lose to let this island keep me down. Now, what’s the plan to get back to Sabaody?"

John and Sam exchange another look before John speaks. "We’ll help you, Y/N. But first, you need to rest. You’ll need all your strength for what’s to come."

You nod, feeling the exhaustion creeping in. "Alright, but don’t let me sleep too long. The sooner we figure this out, the sooner I can get back to my crew."

As you settle into the bed, your mind drifts back to the King and the power he wielded. You’re not just fighting for yourself—you’re fighting for your crew, for your captain, and for the promise you made to them all.

Sanji’s POV…

"How many times do I have to tell you! Give me a ship! I have a promise I have to keep!" I barked, frustration boiling over as I glared at the “Candies.” Two days had passed, and every second felt like an eternity. Time was slipping away, and I had already endured the humiliation of losing to the "Sub" Queen Charlotte. The memory of that defeat stung worse than any physical blow. "Damn it! There's no time for me to goof around with you guys anymore!"

Charlotte smirked, her condescending tone only adding fuel to the fire. "Try a little harder, Candy boy."

Her words grated on my nerves. "So what if it’s an excuse! I'll come right out and say it!" I snapped back, turning away from them with my arms crossed in a huff. "If I don’t see some pretty girls, I’m gonna die. In case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t my scene."

Charlotte and her entourage of “Candies” giggled, clearly enjoying my outburst.

Just as I was about to storm off, one of the Candies gasped, her voice trembling with excitement. "Wait! Is that…?"

I turned around, curious despite myself. "It is! Queen Iva has arrived!" she squealed, and suddenly, the entire group—including Charlotte—was shaking with admiration, tears of joy flowing from their eyes like rivers.

"Hey, what gives? Compose yourselves!" I shouted, bewildered by their reaction. This was getting ridiculous. But as I followed their gaze, I spotted a figure descending from a boat, surrounded by an aura of authority and flamboyance.

"Why do we care?" I asked, still not understanding the sudden shift in their behavior.

Charlotte turned around, her eyes wide with awe. "She’s the ruler of all Kamabakka Kingdom! Queen Emporio Ivankov!"

"Wait a minute, Ivankov?" I said, the name ringing a bell in my mind. Without hesitation, I made my way toward the sea where the boat had now docked. "That's the queen I read about in the papers. Talk about good timing. She was traveling with Luffy—she’s gotta know something!"

As the heels clicked against the ground, I looked up, stunned, as Ivankov descended the steps from her boat. "Ahh, home at last," she said, her voice carrying an air of familiarity with the island.

"Woahh, what a body!" I blurted out, admiring the woman before me, sighing in awe. But then I shook my head, pressing down the doubts that started creeping in. "No, I can’t. She’s totally someone else under all that hotness; otherwise, she wouldn’t be on this island in the first place!"

Ivankov’s sultry voice cut through my thoughts. "Hmmm, hey there, you got a name?" she asked, her tone dripping with flirtation.

I tried to stand tall, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Is there anything I can do for you... Candy boy?" she continued, her voice adding more fuel to the fire inside me.

"Yeah, I got a lot of questions, buddy," I stammered, trying to regain my composure. "Actually, the first one is—are you single?" As soon as the words left my mouth, I was stunned. "I can't believe I even asked that question!" I muttered, a blush creeping across my face. In a low voice, I quickly added, "I mean, it's about Luffy."

Ivankov’s eyes sparkled with interest. "What, Luffy? The cutie with the straw hat?" she responded, her tone playful yet curious.

"Yeah, that’s the one," I confirmed, trying to shake off the embarrassment of my earlier blunder. 

"Listen, I read in the papers that you were busting heads with him at Marineford," I said, trying to keep my cool despite the chaos around me. "What a lucky bastard that Luffy. Anyway, you might know how he’s doing! So, you mind filling me in on that?" I knelt down dramatically, extending my hand toward Ivankov. "Baby."

She reached for my hand, but just then, her nails extended, and she punctured her body with them. "How about now?" Ivankov said in a low voice as her real, more masculine form began to emerge.

"Awww man, and I saw it coming from a mile away too! Screw you!" I shouted, annoyed at myself for falling for it. "Now, tell me, how do you know Strawboy?" Ivankov demanded.

"We’re shipmates," I replied, still irritated.

"You’re part of his crew?!" Ivankov exclaimed, pulling out all the wanted posters of our crew members, flashing them one by one. "So, Strawboy is your captain?"

"Yeah, so?" I answered, trying to stay calm.

"And so, you’re friends with Pirate Hunter Zoro?" Ivankov asked, narrowing her eyes.

"HELL NO!!" I shot back, the mere thought infuriating me.

"What about Cat Burglar Nami?"

"NAMI, MY SWEET!" I shouted, my tone changing instantly, full of adoration.

"And what about Warrior Y/N?" Ivankov asked, holding up her poster.

I froze, staring at the poster of Y/N. Memories flooded back—her smile, her spirit, everything about her that made her special. I remembered the day she got her first wanted poster like it was yesterday.

Flashback

"You guys!" Y/N said, grinning and jumping up and down with excitement. I couldn’t help but smile back at her. Her expression, her smile—too beautiful to even put into words. That was one of the things I loved about her. Besides being a strong warrior and pirate, she carried herself with so much love and light.

"Check this out!" She pulled me out of my daze, waving her wanted poster in front of me. "It’s my wanted poster! They really need to get a better picture of me, though. Hey, Nami, mind telling me who took your picture? I need an updated one ‘cause this isn’t it." She laughed, her voice like music to my ears. Her bounty had gone from the original 20,000,000 to 50,000,000.

"What do you think, Sanji? How cool is this?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with pride.

I was lost in thought, still mesmerized by her.

"Hello? Candy boy?" Ivankov’s voice snapped me back to reality.

"Yeah, yeah, I do," I said, a small smile tugging at my lips.

Ivankov held up another wanted poster. "So, this must be your wanted poster then?"

"FUCK NO! That hideous drawing is nothing like me!" I yelled, now enraged. 

Ivankov started pounding the images with her fists. "You’re not in any of these wanted posters, so you must be a fraud! How do I know your relation with Strawboy then?"

I slammed my fist on the newspaper she held. "What do I do to convince you? I already told you I am!" I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "Tell me what you know about Luffy now! Listen, the paper said you were there with him! So you must know what happened!"

Ivankov raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "So you admit this is you, then?"

"No, IT'S NOT!" I protested, falling to my knees in frustration. "I mean, kind of, but..." Bowing my head, gritting my teeth, I finally gave in. "I'm Sanji, but..." I choked and coughed, blood rising in my throat from the stress of the situation. "My, this seems like a problem area for you, doesn't it?" Ivankov said, clearly enjoying my torment.

Struggling, I finally admitted, "Yes, it's me. That hideous wanted poster drawing is me!"

Ivankov held up my wanted poster beside my face, scrutinizing it. "Sorry, but no match," she teased.

"BUT YOU STILL MADE ME SAY IT! I WAS FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE BACK THERE!" I shouted, furious that she forced me to admit it, only to mock me.

"Fine! I'll start swimming!" I turned around, ready to jump into the sea.

Ivankov gasped, clearly taken aback by my determination. "What dedication! You were telling the truth when you said you were a member of the Strawhat crew. I'll tell you everything I know about Strawboy, then."

"Finally," I said, smiling in relief.

"OR MAYBE NOT!" Ivankov suddenly exclaimed, and the candy men on the island burst into cheers, praising her cleverness.

"Damn it!" I cursed under my breath, my patience wearing thin. "Hey, Iva, since I'm a pirate, I've decided I'm gonna take your ship." I looked at her with fierce determination. "I challenge you to a duel!"

Y/N POV…

"Hey… Y/N, wake up." A soft hand shook me gently. Groaning, I turned my body, instinctively grabbing the object close, cuddling it. "Five more minutes, please," I whined, my voice muffled by sleep. Sam hesitated at first but then decided to let me cuddle him, his body stiffening slightly before relaxing into my embrace. His warmth sparked something inside him, and as he looked down, he smiled softly and pecked my forehead, enjoying the rare moment of closeness, even if it was just for a few minutes.

Suddenly, John barged in, his footsteps quick and urgent. "Y/N! Y/N! Wake up!" he called out, turning on the lights without warning. The abrupt brightness made me groan again, and as I turned, trying to get up, I was met with something hard. Blinking, I adjusted my eyes and saw Sam cuddled next to me, his hands securely on my waist. My face flushed as I realized the intimacy behind the act, and I scrambled to get up, causing Sam to tumble off the bed.

"Whoa, sorry, Sam!" I stammered, embarrassed, trying to help him up but failing to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks.

John, either oblivious or too focused on the news, hurriedly handed me a newspaper. "Y/N, I bring today’s newspaper! It appears something happened to your captain, Luffy!" he exclaimed.

"What?!" My heart raced as I scrambled to my feet, yanking the paper from John’s hands. My eyes widened as I saw Luffy’s face plastered on the front page. "Luffy, what the hell is going on?" I murmured, frantically reading through the article, my mind swirling with worry.

Just as I was about to ask John more questions, two soldiers entered unannounced, their presence commanding immediate attention. Between them stood the King, his regal aura undeniable.

"Ahh, I see you are awake," the King said, his voice calm yet authoritative.

I quickly composed myself, standing tall despite the whirlwind of emotions inside me. "Your Majesty," I greeted, trying to mask my concern for Luffy with a respectful tone. "What brings you here?"

The King’s eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement and intrigue as he replied, "I know who you are—Y/L/N, Y/N. You're part of the Straw Hat crew!"

My heart skipped a beat, but I stood firm. "Yes, I am. So what of it?"

The King chuckled, clearly entertained by my defiance. "I’m quite impressed. News traveled fast about what occurred in Sabaody, but I just couldn’t believe it was your crew that caused such a ruckus."

"We did it to save our friends," I said through gritted teeth, my mind still reeling as I glanced down at the newspaper, trying to piece together why Luffy had gone back to Marineford. The King noticed my focus on the paper and took a step forward.

"You’d like to know more about your captain, correct?" he said, his voice silky smooth. Sam and John immediately moved to shield me, but I pushed them aside, stepping forward to face the King head-on.

"What do you know about him?" I demanded, my voice unwavering despite the tension in the air.

The King smirked, leaning in closer, his eyes never leaving mine. "Why don’t you come back to my quarters, and I’ll tell you everything I know," he whispered, his breath brushing against my ear as he slowly pushed my hair back, sending shivers down my spine. He leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against my neck as he added, "And come alone, if you will."

I stood tall, placing my hands on his chest and pushing him back slightly with a seductive smile. "At what time does Your Majesty request my presence?" I asked, my voice dripping with an allure that matched his own.

"Come by around 3 p.m.," he responded, his gaze lingering on me. "Don’t keep me waiting." With that, he turned and left the room, his soldiers following closely behind.

As soon as the door closed, Sam burst out, "You seriously aren’t considering it, right?!"

Jealousy flickered in his eyes, and I could see the concern in John’s expression as well. I sighed, knowing what had to be done. "I have no choice," I said, my voice steady. "But I’m not going in alone."

Both Sam and John looked at me, their confusion evident.

I smirked, a plan already forming in my mind. "Let’s give him an evening he’ll never forget," I said, my voice full of determination.

They leaned in, listening intently as I began to detail the plan, ensuring that this meeting would be on my terms, not his.

Sanji POV…

Grunting and panting, I felt the exhaustion settle in. "How is Iva so strong?!" I muttered to myself. The fight had barely started, and it was already proving to be a monumental challenge.

"Diable Jambe, Première Hachis!" I shouted, launching myself at Ivankov. My attack was blocked effortlessly, and before I knew it, I was back where I started, disoriented and struggling to regain my footing.

Ivankov, maintaining a calm demeanor, remarked, "You appear to be a sturdy fellow, but you could benefit from some discipline." With that, Ivankov moved in with fluid grace, launching a series of attacks. "Newkama Kenpo—44—Aesthetic Technique! Hair Removal Fist."

Each precise strike landed with crushing force, leaving me reeling. "Death Wink, Hell Wink, and Galaxy Wink!" Ivankov announced, each technique more powerful than the last, overwhelming me with their intensity. The final blow came, and the bell rang, signaling the end of the match. The winner was clearly Ivankov.

I lay on the ground, gasping for air, my energy spent. Ivankov walked over, a look of satisfaction on their face. "Very well, Mr. Curly Brows, I'll give you an update on Strawboy."

Confused and struggling to recover, I croaked, "So what made you change your mind all of a sudden?"

Ivankov smirked and tossed today’s newspaper in front of me. "Oh, please, there's no need to hide what the whole world already knows."

I flipped through the pages, my heart pounding as I searched for the headline. My eyes widened as I saw Luffy's face plastered on the front page—he was back in Marineford. "LUFFY, WHAT THE HELL?!" I shouted, my frustration and worry clear in my voice. 

Y/N POV…

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you glanced at John and Sam. They both wore expressions of concern mixed with resolve, a reflection of your own emotions. "Alright, everyone knows the plan, right?" you asked, trying to sound confident despite the uncertainty you felt.

John gave a nod. "Yeah, Y/N. We’re ready."

Sam hesitated, his gaze lingering on the outfit you wore—a reminder of the gravity of the situation. "You sure about this, Y/N? There’s gotta be another way."

You looked down at the outfit, your reflection showing a dangerous elegance. The dress, with its high slit and form-fitting design, hugged every curve while the bandages concealed the blade hidden within. Your hair was pulled back neatly, and the red lipstick added a bold touch. The heels elevated your stance, giving you an added edge. Instead of responding directly to Sam, you checked the newspaper one last time. Your eyes widened when you noticed Luffy’s left arm, which had a cryptic message: “3 D with an X over it” and “2 Y” written on it.

A smirk played on your lips. "Alright, Captain, if this is what you want, you can count on me."

John’s voice broke through your thoughts. "We’ve arrived, Y/N."

You turned to them, giving a reassuring smile. "Remember to stay in your stations and keep an eye out. Everything’s going to be okay. I’ll handle the rest."

With that, you turned back to the grand entrance of the king’s quarters. The soldiers opened the gates with a ceremonious flourish, and you stepped through, taking a moment to appreciate the opulence of the space before you.

As you walked down the hall, your curiosity was piqued by the elaborate displays. Each section featured a glass case with various weapons and artifacts, their names proudly displayed beneath. You couldn’t help but let your gaze linger on each one, taking in the intricate designs and the history they represented.

Inner dialogue: "So this is the king’s quarters… It’s impressive, but I can’t get distracted. 

Suddenly, a booming voice echoed through the hall, "Ahh, if it isn’t my guest of the evening, Y/N." The king’s voice was smooth, but there was a dangerous undertone. He approached you, a predatory smile on his lips. "Might I add you look rather ravishing today." He reached out and grabbed your hand, placing a kiss on it. You fought the urge to pull away, instead biting back your annoyance and forcing a smile.

"Your majesty," you began, trying to sound casual, "I couldn’t help but notice your impressive collection of weaponry. Might I ask why you’ve put them on display like this?"

The king’s smile faded slightly, and he repositioned himself, his eyes narrowing. "Why don’t I offer you a glass of wine first?" he suggested. "Then we can discuss it further."

He escorted you to the dining hall, where a grand chandelier hung above, casting a warm glow on the room. Soldiers were stationed at every exit, their eyes following your every move.

 Inner dialogue: "He’s thought of every little detail, hasn’t he? There’s no way out without a fight."

The king pulled out a chair for you, and you sat down, maintaining your composure. He then took the seat next to you, much closer than you would have liked, the tension in the air thickening. He poured a glass of wine for each of you, handing you one. "To Y/N," he toasted, his smirk returning. "May tonight be an evening to never forget."

You smiled back, clinking your glass with his, but only pretended to take a sip. "Your majesty," you said, trying to keep your voice steady, "mind telling me what you know about my captain?" You held his gaze, doing your best to appear confident, while subtly trying to seduce him for the information you needed.

The king chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Well, I suppose so," he said. But just as you thought he might start talking, a soldier from the far right lunged at you. Reacting quickly, you threw your wine at him, blocking his attack and knocking him off balance.

In a flash, you were on your feet, taking down the soldiers one by one with precise strikes, your concealed blade flashing in the dim light. The king stood up, clapping slowly as the last soldier fell. "Bravo," he said, his eyes gleaming with a mix of admiration and menace. "You never fail to amaze me."

You pulled out your blade, ready to strike, but before you could make a move, the king lifted his hands as if to surrender. Just as you hesitated, an electrical charge surged through your body, causing you to collapse to the floor, paralyzed. The king crouched down beside you, grabbing your face with a cruel smile. "Did you really think I’d just hand over information about your beloved captain? Ha!"

He slammed you harshly into the ground, pain radiating through your body. You tried to signal to Sam and John, but the king laughed. "Don’t bother. The windows are protected. Nothing can get past these walls."

Your breath quickened as you struggled to get up, but you soon realized Sam and John had been captured, their arms bound as they were forced to their knees. "Wait!" you gasped, struggling to hold yourself up as the king approached you with a knife pressed against your throat. He grabbed both your wrists with his other hand, binding you in place.

Gritting your teeth, you seethed, "Let them go. I’d rather die than see them harmed."

The king, not used to being defied, slammed your face into the table, and you fell back in pain. "Y/N!!" Sam yelled, trying to break free to help you.

The king ordered his soldiers to dispose of you, but as they moved to obey, you grabbed the king’s ankle, stopping them in their tracks. "Wait!" you breathed out, struggling to keep your head up. "I didn’t come here to fight… I came to ask if I can train with you and on your island."

The king raised an eyebrow, intrigued by your words. "Train with me? And why should I consider that?"

You forced yourself to speak through the pain, "If I’m going to protect my captain, if I’m going to be a warrior worthy of standing by his side, I need to get stronger. I need your training and your weaponry."

The king’s eyes narrowed, assessing you. After a moment, he spoke, "Training with me isn’t easy. Neither I nor my soldiers will go easy on you. You’ll endure more pain than you can imagine."

You nodded, determination in your eyes. "I understand. I’m ready for whatever it takes."

A slow smirk spread across the king’s face. "Very well. But under one condition—you will stay with me in the quarters. No exceptions."

Your breath hitched, and Sam looked at you with wide eyes. "Like hell she will—"

"I accept," you cut him off, your voice firm.

"What?!" Sam exclaimed, disbelief etched on his face.

"I accept," you repeated, your gaze locked on the king. "But only if you agree to make me stronger and allow me access to your weaponry."

The king crouched before you, his gaze shifting from your lips to your eyes. "You, my dear… have a deal." He sealed the agreement with a kiss, his lips pressing hard against yours before he knocked you down with a forceful push. "Training starts bright and early tomorrow," he announced before turning on his heel, leaving the room with his soldiers in tow.

Sam and John rushed to your side, concern written all over their faces. "Y/N, what did you agree to?" Sam asked, his voice trembling.

Gasping, you looked up at Sam and managed a weak smile. "In order for me to be a strong warrior for my captain, to protect him from every threat… I must get stronger." You coughed, the effort of speaking draining you. "When he sees me again after two years… I’ll be an even stronger warrior… and pirate… fit for the King of the Pirates!"

As the last of your strength left you, you collapsed into Sam’s arms, your injuries overwhelming you. Sam began to shake you gently, trying to keep you conscious. "Y/N, stay with me!"

Before you could respond, the king reappeared in the doorway, his presence commanding the room. "Oh, and before I forget," he said with a smirk, "you two will tend to her wounds and prepare yourselves as well. I won’t show mercy to any of you."

With those words, the king left, leaving you to realize that tonight truly was an evening you would never forget.

Sanji POV…

As I continued to examine the paper, the trees around me providing just enough shade, a smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. Luffy's message was clear as day. "Roger that, Captain," I muttered under my breath, lowering the paper with a sense of purpose.

Ivankov, who had been observing me closely, raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "What’s that?" she asked, her curiosity piqued. "Something interesting in the paper?"

I folded the paper and looked up at her, the smirk still firmly in place. "Just a little something that only a member of the crew would understand. Top secret, you know?"

Ivankov's curiosity deepened, her eyes narrowing. "Top secret, huh? Are you going to keep me in suspense?"

With a chuckle, I pushed myself off the tree, beginning to walk alongside her towards the castle. "Sorry, but it's crew business. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it."

Once we reached the dining room, a lavish meal awaited me, complete with a glass of wine. Ivankov watched me closely, still trying to piece things together. "You must have seen something in that paper. Mind sharing what it is?"

I took a sip of the wine, savoring the rich flavor before answering, "Like I said, it's top secret. But I’ll tell you this much—my Captain has a plan, and I’m all in."

Ivankov leaned forward, clearly intrigued. "So, what’s the plan?"

I couldn’t help but grin, enjoying the game. "Sorry, that’s classified. Only those who are truly part of the crew would get it."

Ivankov huffed, folding her arms. "You’re really going to keep me in the dark, huh? Fine, but don’t think you can tease me forever."

As I continued to eat, I noticed something different. My body felt… stronger, more energized. Each bite seemed to enhance my senses, sharpening my mind. I looked at the food on my plate, then back at Ivankov. "This food… what’s in it? It’s… different."

Ivankov's face lit up with pride. "Ah, you’ve noticed! That’s the power of Attack Cuisine. It’s a special recipe that enhances your body’s capabilities—makes you stronger, faster, more resilient. It’s the food of warriors!"

“Attack Cuisine?” I said, thinking to myself, this can help my crew, and even a little more a subtle blush creeps up as I think of all the ways this meal can make Y/N, Robin and Nami sexier than ever. "Teach me this recipe, Ivankov. I need to learn it."

Ivankov’s expression turned serious, shaking her head. "Sorry, but it’s not that simple. Attack Cuisine isn’t something you can just learn. You have to earn it."

I leaned forward, determination clear in my eyes. "Then tell me what I need to do to earn it."

Ivankov smiled, clearly impressed by my resolve. "Alright, I’ll make you a deal. If you can defeat the 99 masters of New Kama Kenpo, I’ll teach you the recipes for Attack Cuisine. 

My eyes widened at the challenge Ivankov laid before me. But as the initial shock wore off, a smirk tugged at my lips. The thought of what lay ahead was daunting, but it also excited me. "When this is all over," I thought to myself, "and I defeat those 99 masters, I'll become stronger than ever. I’ll become the world’s greatest chef, making meals fit for the King of the Pirates!"

With that resolve burning in my chest, I pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a practiced flick of my lighter. The familiar taste of smoke filled my lungs, and I exhaled slowly, letting the tension melt away. "Alright, let’s do this," I muttered to myself, determination coursing through me.

Ivankov led me to the training grounds, a sprawling arena where the first of the 99 masters awaited. 

She took a step forward, her smirk widening. "You ready, candy boy?" she taunted, her voice dripping with challenge.

I rolled my shoulders, loosening up and preparing for the fight ahead. "Born ready," I replied, the smirk never leaving my face. The cigarette hung lazily from my lips, a symbol of my calm in the face of the storm.

Meanwhile… Back in Sabaody and in the New World. Word got out of what Luffy did in Marineford. 

Sabaody… 

Trafalgar Law POV…

Trafalgar Law lay resting against Bepo, who was peacefully napping beside him. The soft rustling of leaves and the distant hum of activity from Sabaody were the only sounds filling the air, creating a serene atmosphere. But that serenity was abruptly broken by the voices of his crew.

"What?? You don’t want to leave yet?" One of the Heart Pirates blurted out, his frustration evident. Penguin, unable to sit still, was pacing back and forth. "Let’s go to the New World! We’ve been sitting around here doing nothing! What are we waiting for?"

Law remained calm, his eyes half-lidded as he lazily watched Penguin. His cool demeanor never wavered. "Like I said, we’ll leave when it’s time. Have some patience. The One Piece isn’t going anywhere," he replied, his tone steady and authoritative.

"But Captain, Blackbeard's already taking down pirates to reach the One Piece first!" another crew member chimed in, a note of urgency in his voice.

"Yeah, and a bunch of rookies are heading over there to take Whitebeard’s place as an Emperor," added Shachi, his concern evident as he glanced at Law.

Law smirked, tilting his head slightly as he continued to rest against Bepo. "We’re better off letting them eliminate each other before we get there," he said, a calculating edge to his voice. "That’ll thin out the competition, don’t you think?"

The crew exchanged glances, knowing their captain’s strategic mind was always thinking several steps ahead. But Penguin, never one to pass up an opportunity for mischief, couldn’t resist teasing. He leaned closer to Law, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Are you sure it’s not also to catch a glimpse of Y/N?" he asked, his tone dripping with playful insinuation.

Law, usually so composed, visibly tensed. A faint blush crept onto his cheeks, betraying his emotions. "Don’t be ridiculous," he muttered, trying to keep his cool, but his voice betrayed him with a slight stammer.

"Oh, come on, Captain," Shachi joined in, grinning widely. "We all saw how you looked at Y/N before we left. You sure you’re not just hoping for another chance encounter?"

Penguin, still chuckling, added, "Don’t worry, Captain. We’ll be sure to give you some privacy when we run into Y/N again."

Before anyone could say more, Bepo, still deep in his nap, began to mumble, "I also have Y/N’s number…"

Law’s eyes widened in disbelief as he turned to stare at Bepo, who remained blissfully unaware in his sleep.

Penguin and Shachi both froze for a moment before they erupted. "What?!" they shouted in unison, glaring at Bepo. "You just decided to tell the Captain now?!"

Bepo’s ears twitched as he sleep-talked again, "S-Sorry…"

Penguin and Shachi threw their hands up in exasperation. "Don’t apologize while you’re sleeping!" they yelled, half-annoyed, half-amused.

The crew’s teasing atmosphere was momentarily disrupted, but as the laughter faded, Law’s thoughts drifted back to Y/N. He couldn’t help but wonder what Y/N was up to now and when their paths would cross again. But for now, he had to maintain his composure—especially with his crew watching his every move. 

Somewhere in the New World… 

Captain Kidd stood at the helm of his ship, a newspaper clenched in his gloved hand. His eyes were narrowed, and his lips curled into a sneer as he scanned the bold headline.

"Strawhat Luffy… turns out the bastard’s still alive!" Kidd growled, the newspaper crinkling under his grip. "Rang the bell 16 times in Marineford… blah, blah, blah, so what the hell does this mean?" He looked up, his gaze sharp as he turned to his crew.

Killer, standing nearby, adjusted his mask before speaking up. "The 16 bells have a symbolic meaning, Captain. It’s a declaration of a new era. The end of one and the beginning of another."

Kidd scoffed, tossing the newspaper onto a nearby crate. "He comes out of Marineford pretty cocky, thinking he’s hot shit. Whitebeard’s era is already gone, and now he thinks he’s in charge of the next one?" Kidd’s voice dripped with disdain. "His bounty’s going up, and it’s only going to keep rising if he keeps pulling stunts like this."

He turned away from his crew, his mind clearly on something else, or rather, someone else. "Any news on my fiancée, Y/N?" Kidd asked, his tone almost casual, but there was a possessive edge to his words.

Killer, not missing a beat, quickly chimed in. "Captain, she hasn’t accepted yet. Besides, I’ve got my eyes set on her too." His voice was cool, but the underlying tension was unmistakable.

Kidd’s gaze snapped back to Killer, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "She’ll agree, Killer. Even if I have to kidnap her to make her see reason," Kidd declared, his voice firm. The intensity in his tone left no room for doubt.

Killer tilted his head slightly, not backing down. "And what makes you so sure, Kidd? Y/N’s not someone who can be easily controlled, you know that. She’s got fire, and it’s that fire that draws us both to her."

Kidd smirked, a twisted sense of admiration in his expression. "Exactly. That fire is what makes her perfect. She’s not just some woman; she’s the only one who could keep up with me. I knew it the moment I laid eyes on her…"

Flashback…

The bustling streets of Sabaody Archipelago were always filled with chaos and intrigue, a perfect breeding ground for pirates looking to make a name for themselves. It was here, in the heart of the lawless zone, that Kidd first caught sight of her—not in person, but on a wanted poster plastered against a weathered wall.

Kidd had been walking through Grove 20, eyes scanning the numerous bounty posters lining the street. Some caught his interest briefly, but nothing that truly stood out—until he saw yours. The image was slightly weathered, but the intensity in your eyes was unmistakable. The name underneath read Y/L/N, Y/N, with a bounty that was impressive for someone who wasn’t a captain (115,000,000). Your face, fierce and determined, piqued his curiosity instantly.

"Who the hell is this?" Kidd muttered under his breath, ripping the poster off the wall to get a better look. There was something about you, even in that static image, that intrigued him. A fire in your eyes, a promise of trouble, and a challenge—everything Kidd was drawn to.

He stuffed the poster into his coat, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I’ve gotta meet this woman," he thought to himself, already feeling the thrill of the chase. The poster didn’t do you justice; he needed to see you in action.

The opportunity came sooner than he expected. At the Human Auction House, Kidd had initially come for the spectacle, expecting to see the usual array of unfortunate souls. But when his eyes landed on you, standing on stage next to a mermaid, his world shifted. Your outfit, meant to highlight you as a prize, did nothing to disguise the raw strength and spirit radiating from you. His gaze lingered on the bruises marring your skin—evidence of your fight and resistance. The sight stirred something primal in him, a mix of anger and fierce protectiveness. The thought of you being paraded around like a trophy, shackled and vulnerable, ignited a burning desire within him.

When the auction began and you removed your chains, Kidd watched in awe as you fought back with a small blade, taking down Disco with precision and grit. The way you moved, the fire in your eyes, it was more than just talk and bravado. It was action, power, and defiance, and Kidd found himself captivated. His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of admiration and a fierce, possessive urge.

When the cook from your crew, Sanji, rushed onto the stage to free you, wrapping you in his arms and holding you close, Kidd’s initial reaction was a surge of rage and jealousy. He watched, fists clenched, as the scene unfolded. But when you were pushed towards Kidd, his control was tested. The closeness, the heat of your body against his—it took everything in him to restrain his instincts.

As you stumbled towards him, Kidd’s eyes darkened with a hunger that went beyond mere attraction. The sight of your disheveled state, the way you clung to Sanji and then to him, stoked a fierce, carnal desire within him. His mind was consumed with thoughts of claiming you, of feeling your body pressed against his in a way that spoke of raw, unfiltered need.

In a moment of primal intensity, Kidd’s gaze locked onto you as he leaned in, his tongue grazing your delicate skin. The touch was deliberate, teasing, and when you let out an involuntary moan, it fueled his desires even further. The soft, warm skin beneath his lips was intoxicating, each tremor of your body sending waves of pleasure through him. The warmth of your breath, the softness of your flesh, the vulnerability of your position—all combined to create a heady mix of lust and longing.

Kidd’s control was slipping, his thoughts dark and obsessive. He imagined pulling you close, feeling every curve of your body pressed against his, his hands roaming with a possessive grip. The thought of claiming you, of making you his in every sense, consumed him. He wanted to feel your skin against his, to taste every inch of you, and to dominate you in a way that left no room for doubt.

The fire in your eyes had ignited a blaze in his heart, one that burned with a fierce, unrestrained passion. In that moment, Kidd knew he would stop at nothing to possess you, not just as a trophy but as a partner in his most intimate desires. The need to have you, to make you his, was now an all-encompassing obsession.

Back to the present…

Kidd’s smirk widened as he recalled that moment, his gaze faraway yet intense. "She’s mine, Killer. She just doesn’t know it yet."

Killer, arms crossed and eyes hidden behind his mask, shifted his stance. The air between them was charged with unspoken tension. "You’re not the only one who sees her worth, Kidd. But if you think I’m just going to step aside, you’re mistaken. I’m just as determined to make her mine."

Kidd’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of challenge in his gaze. His voice dropped to a low, dangerous whisper. "Then it looks like we’ve got ourselves a little competition, don’t we?"

Killer’s tone was equally resolute, though his masked face revealed nothing. "Looks like it."

The two men stood in a silent stand-off, the weight of their rivalry hanging heavily in the air. Each knew the stakes of this competition were high, but neither was willing to concede. Y/N had become the center of a storm—a storm driven by the fierce desires of two of the New World’s most formidable pirates.

Kidd’s smirk remained, a dangerous promise of what was to come. "Let’s see who she chooses, then."

Killer’s eyes, though hidden, seemed to bore into Kidd with equal intensity. "Indeed. May the best man win."

The atmosphere crackled with anticipation, the rivalry between the two men palpable. As they stood their ground, the realization set in that Y/N was about to become the focal point of their ruthless competition. Neither would relent, and both were prepared to do whatever it took to claim her, making their contest a matter of both pride and possession.

.

.

.

..Finally! Now, both Sanji and Y/N will start their training! Sanji’s flashback moment, my heart!!! had to add law, kidd, and killer back. I just love them. Also it adds to the plot lmfaooo. For the next chapter I will be bringing the crew back as the 2 years have finally arrived. We head back to Sabaody. There's going to be flashback scenes here. Along with a few guests coming in. I think for chapter 9-10 I will skip fishman island and add a few key notes for our beloved crew as well as a key moment that will shift both Sanji and Y/N. You guys don't want to miss this, cause we will be heading to punk hazard. Thank you guys for liking as well as following the blogs! Thank you for reblogging!. Chapter 8 is being worked on now as we speak!

[book--brackets]

Young Wizards by Diana Duane (1983-2016)

Nita Callahan is at the end of her rope because of the bullies who've been hounding her at school... until she discovers a mysterious library book that promises her the chance to become a wizard. But she has no idea of the difference that taking the Wizard's Oath is going to make in her life. Shortly, in company with fellow beginner-wizard Kit Rodriguez, Nita's catapulted into what will be the adventure of a lifetime—if she and Kit can both live through it. For every wizard's career starts with an Ordeal in which he or she must challenge the one power in the universe that hates wizardry more than anything else: the Lone Power that invented death and turned it loose in the worlds. Plunged into a dark and deadly alternate New York full of the Lone One's creatures, Kit and Nita must venture into the very heart of darkness to find the stolen, legendary Book of Night with Moon. Only with the dangerous power of the wizardly Book do they have a chance to save not just their own lives, but their world...

Valdemar: The Last Herald-Mage by Mercedes Lackey (1989-1990)

Though Vanyel has been born with near-legendary abilities to work both Herald and Mage magic, he wasn't no part in such things. Nor does he seek a warrior's path, wishing instead to become a Bard.

Yet such talent as his, if left untrained, may prove a menace not only to Vanyel but to others as well. So he is sent to be fostered with his aunt, Savil, one of the fame Herald-Mages of Valdemar.

But, strong-willed and self-centered, Vanyel is a challenge which even Savil cannot master alone. For soon he will become the focus of frightening forces, lending his raw magic to a spell that unleashes terrifying wyr-hunters on the land.

And by the time Savil seeks the assistance of a Shin'a'in Adept, Vanyel's wild talent may have already grown beyond anyone's ability to contain, placing Vanyel, Savil, and Valdemar itself in desperate peril.

The Star-Touched Queen by Roshani Chokshi (2016-2018)

Fate and fortune. Power and passion. What does it take to be the queen of a kingdom when you're only seventeen?

Maya is cursed. With a horoscope that promises a marriage of Death and Destruction, she has earned only the scorn and fear of her father's kingdom. Content to follow more scholarly pursuits, her whole world is torn apart when her father, the Raja, arranges a wedding of political convenience to quell outside rebellions. Soon Maya becomes the queen of Akaran and wife of Amar. Neither roles are what she expected: As Akaran's queen, she finds her voice and power. As Amar's wife, she finds something else entirely: Compassion. Protection. Desire...

But Akaran has its own secrets -- thousands of locked doors, gardens of glass, and a tree that bears memories instead of fruit. Soon, Maya suspects her life is in danger. Yet who, besides her husband, can she trust? With the fate of the human and Otherworldly realms hanging in the balance, Maya must unravel an ancient mystery that spans reincarnated lives to save those she loves the most... including herself.

The Wingfeather Saga by Andrew Peterson (2008-2014)

Janner Igiby, his brother, Tink, and their disabled sister, Leeli, are gifted children as all children are, loved well by a noble mother and ex-pirate grandfather. But they will need all their gifts and all that they love to survive the evil pursuit of the venomous Fangs of Dang, who have crossed the dark sea to rule the land with malice. The Igibys hold the secret to the lost legend and jewels of good King Wingfeather of the Shining Isle of Anniera.

Myth Adventures by Robert Lyn Asprin (1978-2002)

Skeeve was a magician's apprentice--until an assassin struck and his master was killed. Now, with a purple-tongued demon named Aahz as a companion, he's on a quest to get even.

The Land of Elyon by Patrick Carman (2003-2008)

Alexa is curious about what lies beyond the massive ramparts that surround the city and the walled roads that link Bridewell to nearby towns; soon after town leader Thomas Warvold passes away, Alexa finds herself outside the walls, acquires a stone with remarkable powers, and discovers that she's meant to stop a potential war from occurring.

The Worst Witch by Jill Murphy (1974-2018)

Mildred Hubble is a trainee witch at Miss Cackle's Academy, and she's making an awful mess of it. She's always getting her spells wrong and she can't even ride a broomstick without crashing it. Will she ever make a real witch?

The Left-Handed Booksellers of London by Garth Nix (2020-2023)

In a slightly alternate London in 1983, Susan Arkshaw is looking for her father, a man she has never met. Crime boss Frank Thringley might be able to help her, but Susan doesn't get time to ask Frank any questions before he is turned to dust by the prick of a silver hatpin in the hands of the outrageously attractive Merlin.

Merlin is a young left-handed bookseller (one of the fighting ones), who with the right-handed booksellers (the intellectual ones), are an extended family of magical beings who police the mythic and legendary Old World when it intrudes on the modern world, in addition to running several bookshops.

Susan's search for her father begins with her mother's possibly misremembered or misspelt surnames, a reading room ticket, and a silver cigarette case engraved with something that might be a coat of arms.

Merlin has a quest of his own, to find the Old World entity who used ordinary criminals to kill his mother. As he and his sister, the right-handed bookseller Vivien, tread in the path of a botched or covered-up police investigation from years past, they find this quest strangely overlaps with Susan's. Who or what was her father? Susan, Merlin, and Vivien must find out, as the Old World erupts dangerously into the New.

The Lighthouse Witches by C. J. Cooke (2021)

When single mother Liv is commissioned to paint a mural in a 100-year-old lighthouse on a remote Scottish island, it’s an opportunity to start over with her three daughters–Luna, Sapphire, and Clover. When two of her daughters go missing, she’s frantic. She learns that the cave beneath the lighthouse was once a prison for women accused of witchcraft. The locals warn her about wildlings, supernatural beings who mimic human children, created by witches for revenge. Liv is told wildlings are dangerous and must be killed.

Twenty-two years later, Luna has been searching for her missing sisters and mother. When she receives a call about her youngest sister, Clover, she’s initially ecstatic. Clover is the sister she remembers–except she’s still seven years old, the age she was when she vanished. Luna is worried Clover is a wildling. Luna has few memories of her time on the island, but she’ll have to return to find the truth of what happened to her family. But she doesn’t realize just how much the truth will change her.

Reckless by Cornelia Funke (2010-2020)

Jacob has uncovered the doorway to another world, hidden behind a mirror. It is a place of dark magic and enchanted objects, scheming dwarves and fearsome ogres, fairies born from water and men born from stone.Here, he hunts for treasure and seeks adventure in the company of Fox - a beautiful, shape-shifting girl, who guides and guards him.But now Jacob's younger brother has followed him into the mirrored world, and all that was freedom has turned to fear. Because a deadly curse has been spoken; and Jacob must risk his life to reverse it, before his brother is turned to stone forever...

[torchwood-99]

I Do Like We Never Get Eowyn's Date of Death

I can grumble a bit about it, that this seems overlooked, yet at the same time it kind of feels right for Eowyn's arc, especially if you compare it to Arwen's arc.

Eowyn's arc is all about choosing life. For the longest time she wishes to choose death, she has no desire to live, and even when after she achieves a great deed and so earns herself the renown she needs, and has defied the orders that kept her in the cage she so feared, still she wishes for nothing but to die in honour and glory.

Yet ultimately she chooses life. She chooses to heal, she chooses to grow, she chooses to go to Ithilien so everything there might bloom with her coming, taking on Galadriel's role as a "White Lady" of a forest, Galadriel now leaving her forest fading as the time of the elves ends and the power of Nenya dies, while Eowyn entering her forest kingdom which is free to heal now that the One Ring has been destroyed. Her arc is all about making the choice to live.

Therefore, to end with a note on the date of her death, even in the appendices, would undermine this theme. Instead, the appendices remark she won renown for her deeds on the Pelennor, remembered forever as "Lady of the Shield Arm". We do not know when she dies, but we can be certain she lived in memory beyond her death.

Arwen's is the opposite. Arwen's arc is about choosing to die. Choosing to endure the pains and sorrows of mortality, choosing the unknown of the world after death, choosing change and a loss of everything known and familiar, all for love. Her story ends in her lying down to die, because she no longer wishes to live, in a forest that has gone past its glory days, clinging to memories of what came before. The closing remarks on her narrative speculate on how eventually she and her story will be forgotten, for even that will end.

Eowyn and Arwen almost have a reversal of roles, one starting in despair and anger, moving onto joy, the other beginning in a place of contentment, only to fall into grief and despair.

[merthurxxxmerthur]

Well, it's me. Again! And, this time, I come with a very controversial thing. I want to speculate a little bit about James Potter. And, well, the only canon thing that can be somehow developed about him is the theme of change and growing up. And, to be honest, I really don't like this character. I think it has to do with the fact that James is actually very empty and a bit shallow? We hear so much about him, he is praised as a hero (deservedly so), then we see what a piece of shit he really was when he was younger, and… that's it. There are a lot of words about how he changed from Sirius (who apparently set up a shrine to him in his mother's room) and Remus, but nothing else. The reader is not given a glimpse of what kind of husband he was (a lousy one, Lily cried after meeting Petunia and Vernon, lol), what kind of father. I mean, we don't even have letters from him. He didn't write to Sirius? Or Peter? (Was Peter so insignificant to him that he didn't even deserve a letter?:D) Or did he communicate with Sirius through the mirror, like he was his secret lover, haha. And that's what, well, upsets me a little? We SEE Lily: the way she talks, the way she acts, through memories. There's her letter to Sirius, it's not much, but it shows her as a person. With James, despite seemingly an abundance of information about him, it's never like that. I mean, in a good way? Where he's not a bully-loser-coward who attacks a poor half-blood with his 3 idiot friends? And the whole thing about him growing up? Changing? I've thought about that a lot, and it always been surprised by how his fans talk about it.

Like, in their world, he's not just an ordinary schoolboy, he's the favorite of all the teachers, he's the favorite of Dumbledore, the headmaster, who always turned a blind eye to his atrocities at school. He's a nobleman, he's rich, he's married to a beautiful woman who bore him a son, an heir. He's a Gryffindor, the most beloved house at Hogwarts, the students from there enjoy great trust from society. He's AT THE TOP of their hierarchy, at the very top. He doesn't have to work, doesn't have to study further, because they don't have a higher education, he doesn't have to communicate with other people, earn their trust, because most of their small community adores him (Severus and all those kids who were bullied by him are clearly in the minority).

Growing up is admitting that you were wrong. It's looking at your actions from a different perspective. To face people who disagree with you, people who won't love you for who you are or for being in Gryffindor when you were 11. People who won't see you as an equal, and you have to prove your worth to them. It's shameful, it's painful, because change is unpleasant and very difficult. It takes effort. But it ALWAYS needs a push. Something that throws you off track. Changes your outlook on life.

For Severus, it's Lily's life being threatened and his mission to protect Harry. For Sirius, it's James' death, Peter's betrayal, and Azkaban (the hunger, the cold, the illness, the dementors, the madness - all of it left its mark on him).

When there's a trigger, there has to be a desire. You have to want to change, to be better, to repair the damage you've already done. And when I think about James, I think about how in his life (without Voldemort and the prophecy) he would never have had the push and desire to change. Because he is okay with himself. In canon, it is clear that James was loved by his parents, they spoiled him. He has 2 loyal friends who never question his actions. Even Peter dies because he is unable to kill Harry because of James. Lily? Lily is okay with his cruelty, his lack of empathy, she is just like him. She loves him, he is her husband, the father of her child - she was young, but clearly not stupid when she married him. She understood him and was okay with who he was.

I mean, if James can change, why can't Lucius? Lucius, unlike James, has been friends with Severus (a poor half-blood with no title) for many years, he accepted him into Slytherin in his first year, Narcissa trusts Severus with the safety of her son and asks him for help because Lucius made her feel that Severus can be trusted. But his friendship with Severus does not change anything, Narcissa's love does not change Lucius, and even the birth of a child, his son, does not change anything. He remains himself. The same goes for Vernon. No one in canon questions James's decisions and actions, no one equal in strength (or even superior to him, like Dumbledore) opposes him. No one would tell him that he was wrong, that he acted disgustingly when he swelled the boy's head or when he took off Snape's trousers. No one argues with him, does not scold him seriously. If there is no opposition, then there is no impetus for development. If there is no push that knocks the life out of you, there is no desire to change.

Not to mention that the Harry Potter world is a greenhouse where pureblood wizards never have to deal with the realities of the real world. It is a world of rich people who are not familiar with hard work or low-paying jobs. They do not have to work like Snape, Lupin or Weasley to feed themselves.

The only thing that can give James development is changes in his life that he cannot prevent. What if Sirius stops being his dog (impossible) and starts dating Snape? (possible). Conflicts, quarrels, he will be furious, terrified, especially if they are still young. He will have to be patient, polite, be a good, supportive friend to Sirius, because he loves him. And cope with Severus's constant presence in his life, with the jealousy that he will experience, but will not be able to splash out, because Sirius knows him and does not allow it.

What if Harry gets sorted into Slytherin? (my favorite plot). Will he be disappointed? Will he love Harry as much as he would if he was sorted into Gryffindor? How will he deal with Harry being sorted into the bad house? The first Potter in Slytherin? What will his relationship with Lily be like then?

What if they have to live in Cokeworth for a while, where the common workers are not as kind to an upstart nobleman as the wizards and witches are? What if James even has to (OH MY GOD) work to support his family? In a factory, a mine, as a loader, a builder, whatever, because in the muggle world he has to have a college degree to get a decent job. (and yes, he can hex people to just hire him, but let's not make him an even bigger asshole than he already is). He will have to talk to different people, learn about their life experiences, their problems, their struggles. He will learn not to judge people by first impressions, to be polite, to be understanding and empathetic.

In short, for James Potter to have any development and changes, he needs to be outside the wizarding world where he has privileges.

And I say this as someone whose first (and favorite) Harry Potter fanfic to read was a James/Severus fanfic, where James got some amazing and very believable character development. And if you've never read "Revenge Is All The Sweeter" by Twilight to Midnight, you should, because James shines in it!

[alisonthedeluluisback]

Rating movies about nazi germany I have watched

First of all, I want to make it clear that this isn't a professional review, it's only my opinion

I liked the proposal of the story being centered around a nazi family and the younger boy befriending a jew, but all of that goes down the drain due to the multiple historical inaccuracies: the children learned about nazism very early, so there is no way bruno would have been that innocent. Also, concentration camps wasn't of that much easy access. The appeal to emotion instead of actually building a deep plot also sucks. 5/10

I absolutely adored this movie, the plot is so deep, the construction around the persecution of Liesel's parents, her relationship with her adoptive parents, the brotherhood she had with the jew hiding in their house, her tough but sweet personality, her desire for knowledge. It was all so beautifully orchestrated, and also the historical accuracy>>>>>> 10/10

This movie will always be a classic for me. The way they portrayed nazis as they were, human, vulnerable, with a distorted view of the world but still seeking what they thought was the best. How they went deep down into the life in the bunker, the despair and hopelessness they felt. Also, the way they portrayed Eva Braun>>>> how she tried to sugarcoat everything not to suffer, how she threw parties in the hallway of death, how even in a desperate situation the greatest joy of her life was to marry the terrible man she fell in love with and was blindly loyal too. Everything is so heartbreaking and beautiful at the same time. Also, the historical accuracy is just a delight. 1000/10

This is a true punch in the gut. The terrible way he lost his family, the inhuman life he lived in the guetto, his part in the warsaw guetto riot, how he kept his beautiful talent immaculate till the end, when he lost the love of his life and had to see her married, the hunger, mistreating and fear that were a part of his daily life, his brave survival. Everything about this movie is truly sad. 9/10

I won't even talk much about this one. I start it laughing and finished it on the verge of crying. It is funny, heartbreaking, the perfect mix between comedy and tragedy, the true definition of bittersweetness. 100/10

Following the same road of the last one, there's this piece of art. It had everything to go wrong, but it went beautifully. They made something outrageous turn out funny without being offensive, and yet made a deep, tragic and beautiful story. The underlying romance between that ex-soldier and his assistant, the way jojo changed his mentality gradually, and his absurd view of hitler. It was surprisingly very historically accurate, but Im still confused about: how was jojo not sent to an orphanage after his mother died? How did he survive on his own? Anyways, this was a negative point for me, but still love it. 50/10

Okay, I absolutely love this one, but hate to death how they slipped over such simple aspects, like Hitler's personality. They made him hit a dog when in fact he defended animal's rights, they made him not give a shit about his mom being ill when in fact he loved her dearly. They changed his personality to make him seem even more evil. But, I also have plenty of positive points to talk about. I rarely see movies portraying Hitler's early life the way this one did, and how he ascended gradually to power. I love this miniseries deeply for getting into details about his whole life. They even aborded his abusive relationship with his niece. I can almost forgive the outrageous innacuracy with the characters and the altering of some details (how he earned his iron cross, how he met eva braun, how he treated fuschl), and I love it despite its defects. It also has some iconic scene: the bar fight, the munich beer hall putch, the trial. I wish I could give a 1000/10, but because of its innacuracies im giving it a 500/10

Nazis getting brutally slaughtered. Do I really have to say anything else? Also, Hans Landa>>>>>>>> ∞/10

[woodchipp]

Mouthwashing's Jimmy and OMORI's Sunny: Same Yet Different

Sunny is the main protagonist of the 2020 video game OMORI, a hikikomori who shut himself away from the world after the untimely death of his elder sister, Mari, by suicide. As the story unfolds, it’s revealed he was the true cause of her death - he shoved her down the house’s stairway and then lied to his loved ones by omission after his best friend staged her death as a suicide.

Jimmy is the main protagonist of the 2024 video game Mouthwashing, the co-pilot of the Tulpar space freighter ship who is forced to assume the title of (acting) captain after the captain himself crashes the ship for unknown reasons and is left grievously injured as a result. As the story unfolds, it’s revealed he was the true cause of the crash and then lied to the crew about the man responsible.

Sounds quite similar, eh? Be as it may, the similarities don’t end here.

NOTE: Yes, Sunny didn't rape anyone. No, this is not the first time I'm comparing him to a rapist. The point is not comparing their crimes - it's comparing how similar their behaviors are. No, Sunny's age is not a mitigating circumstance - it ceased to be one the moment he felt relief at the sight of his sister's desecrated corpse.

Part One: Spite

While there are multiple factors that drove Jimmy to crash the Tulpar, such as his fear of the consequences of Anya:s pregnancy, chief of all is his spite. It mostly stems from his best friend and the aforementioned captain, Curly, confiding in him that he felt trapped by his job and wanted to try his hand at something else, which Jimmy takes as him boasting that he’s too good for the prestigious title Jimmy himself covets. Curly later revealing that all of the crew were to be laid off at the end of their delivery served as a key turning point for Jimmy, as he interpreted it as a personal betrayal.

[Pictured: Jim totally not being an insecure little bitch.]

OMORI insinuates Sunny killing Mari was an accident largely caused by the stress the former endured because the latter overworked him. However, unlike Mouthwashing, which shows Pony Express is a nightmare to work for via its hellish conditions, the pressure Mari allegedly subjected Sunny to is never shown in the game proper. The most it has to say on the subject is a brief mention of Sunny practicing the violin in a book from Lost Library, which only indicates his annoyance that he can't watch cartoons with his friends because of it.

[Pictured: real problems.]

OMORI also insinuates Sunny killed Mari because he was overwhelmed by her reprimand of him. There are two problems with this. First of all, Mari’s reason for doing so is already understandable - he did break the expensive violin she and his friends spent an entire summer working to buy, after all - and it’s made more so since we’re not shown how overbearing she was. As a result, Sunny becomes considerably less sympathetic, as what’s supposed to be a plausible breakdown looks more like an unjustified tantrum.

Secondly, Sunny didn’t need to push Mari down the staircase. There is no conclusive evidence she restrained him during their argument or used any sort of physical force in general; the most she’s seen and described doing is blocking his way downstairs by placing herself in front of him and yelling at him. This means there was nothing preventing him from reacting to the reprimand like a realistic 12 yo child - running away from Mari because she is distressing him, locking himself in either of the rooms that were behind him and waiting until she calms down.

[Sunny could've fled, but chose not to.]

As this leaves a spiteful desire to harm Mari as the only possible reason he shoved her, I guess one could say he hoped this hurt.

Part Two: I’m Awesome, Dammit!

Jimmy craves appreciation from others without actually doing anything to earn said appreciation, as shown by him hallucinating the corpses of his crewmates celebrating how great of a captain he is after his actions result in their deaths.

Likewise, Sunny is never shown to do anything substantial for his friends before or after Mari’s death (we’re only told he’s a good listener a couple of times) yet imagines his “ideal” relationship with them as them depending on him and praising him at every opportunity. 

Moreover, the imaginary Basil Sunny talks to before Memory Lane implies Sunny expects his friends to forgive him for ruining their lives because he wouldn’t consider them “good” friends otherwise.

Part Three: Curly and Basil

It’s clear Jimmy has a very low opinion of Curly post-crash, and that’s putting it mildly. He can be heard beating the latter while giving him painkillers and dehumanizes him, viewing him as something to “fix" or keep quiet.

Sunny shows a similar disregard for Basil, the aforementioned best friend who staged Mari’s death as a suicide, as a person. In his dream world, Basil is little more than a damsel in distress to save, something that’ll make him feel good about himself - and Sunny prefers thinking about doing something good for him (e.g. watering his plants in said dream world) as opposed to doing anything while he’s suffering. Most notably, when Sunny is confronted with Basil having a mental breakdown - a situation where he could help by attempting to calm him down or calling his friend in the other room - all he does is to walk away.

Part Four: TAKE RESPONSIBILITY, Won’t You?

One of Jimmy’s defining traits - and his fatal flaw - is his complete inability to shoulder any responsibility for his actions despite wanting a position that entails taking responsibility for others. As mentioned earlier, his fear of the consequences of Anya’s pregnancy is a big reason he crashed the ship, most of his crewmates die because he’s too lost in his self-importance to consider he’s the problem, and it’s what drives him to project his fault for his actions onto Curly.

Such behavior can be seen in Sunny too. One of the Truth photos indicates he earnestly thought that his friends wouldn’t be upset by Mari’s death as long as it didn’t look like he was responsible, and over the course of the game, he blames both Basil and Mari herself for the inciting incident, with the aforementioned imaginary Basil directly implying Sunny considers the real one a burden. 

[Corporate needs you to find the differences between this scene and this scene.]

Now, to throw Sunny the slightest bone, OMORI’s true ending does have him take responsibility for lying to his friends by confessing the truth. However, it’s rendered shallow by several factors:

- The game’s last leg all but states his desire to tell the truth doesn’t come from a place of genuinely wanting to do right by the people he hurt - he wants to do it because he wants to feel good about himself, just like Jimmy wants to take responsibility only because he likes feeling he’s important.

- Sunny tells the truth right before moving town with his mother, thus avoiding any direct consequences of his confession. Granted, it wasn’t his own choice like Jimmy’s decision to kill himself was his, but the fact the game conspicuously cuts to credits with him in his mother’s car just as he begins to confess and before we could see his friends’ reactions makes it hard to read him moving town as anything other than a convenient escape hatch.

- Sunny didn’t actually change as a person even though the game expects the player to believe he did. The true ending’s credits song, which is sung from his perspective, shows he’s the exact same self-absorbed asshole he was, whining about how hard it is for him to live with what he’s done while mostly glossing over the pain he subjected his friends to.

Part Five: The Difference

So, now that we’ve established how “same” Jimmy and Sunny are, what is it that makes them “different”? The answer’s simple - it’s the framing. As a story, OMORI runs on protagonist-centered morality, and it shows.

Sunny’s deeply self-centered view of his relationships with other people is framed as endearing and proof that he cares about them while Jimmy’s delusions of grandeur are rightfully framed as pathetic. Sunny implying he considers Basil a burden is framed as a poignant and heartwarming moment while Jimmy viewing Curly as something he can use to feel better about himself is rightfully framed as disgusting. Sunny imagining Mari blaming herself for her death is framed as a heartfelt conversation where she forgives him for killing her while Jimmy imagining Curly taking the blame for the former’s actions is rightfully framed as desperate denial. The difference in framing is most noticeable in Sunny and Jimmy’s confrontations with the embodiments of their shame and guilt - while Omori’s lengthy speech is framed as Sunny’s evil mental illness being mean to him even though some of the points he makes about Sunny are valid, Polle’s final words to Jimmy are rightfully framed as a scathing indictment of how empty and hypocritical Jimmy’s desire to take responsibility is.

[Same, yet different.]

But hey, Sunny didn’t rape anyone, right? :)