#orion medici

[kiame-sama]

The Yandere OCs having a nightmare where they harm/kill reader

Warnings; yandere, yandere relationship, violence (nightmare), death (nightmare), reader centered gore (nightmare)

Walter Woods;

A body lay open on the operating table, the constant drone of an EKG whining out the flatline. Another patient lost because he wasn't good enough to keep them alive. Another patient gone because Walter let them down.

The sorrow weighed heavily upon his shoulders, a harsh reminder of his failure squealing in his ears as his eyes slowly trailed up the lifeless figure. A painful stab seemed to rip into his chest as he realized it wasn't just any lifeless corpse laying there, it was your lifeless corpse.

- Walter wakes with a startle, enough to disturb you from your peaceful sleep. He is breathing hard and shaking due to the nightmare that was still fresh in his mind. Walter is on the verge of tears at this point.

- "What's wrong?" Your voice is what snaps him out of the stupor he is in and gets him to return to the present. Truly, he is just glad you're alive and that his horrible nightmare was just another nightmare.

- "Nothing, love. Nothing's wrong." He will hold you close and kiss your forehead, relieved that his nightmare was not reality. He is likely going to stay awake for a while on account of the fright he received.

Evan Rothchester;

The satisfying squish of human flesh beneath his hand met his blade as he sank the knife deep into the person's stomach. Red blood seemed to burst forth like a fountain where the knife was sunken in. Another body for the pile that was Evan's life.

He sighed as he wiped the blood from his skin, using a hand to rip the black hood off of his victim's head. Evan's blood ran cold when he saw just who it was beneath the hood. Your eyes slowly drifted up to look at him, the betrayal clear in your expression before your eyes rolled back. The second your body went limp Evan rushed forward to catch you, to try and undo what he had done.

It was too late.

Your lifeless figure leaned forward against his chest, laying limply in his arms. How could he? How could he have done this to you? How could he live with himself?

- His eyes shot open as he sat upright with a small shout of fear. The shout quickly raising you from your slumber as you also shot up, wondering what the problem was and why Evan responded in such a way.

- "What's going on? Are you okay, Evan?" You are clearly concerned as you question your Mafioso lover, startled and disoriented by the sudden way Evan woke the both of you.

- Evan is panting and looking around in confusion, but as soon as he sees you next to him and safe in bed, he pulls you close into an almost crushing hug. He is shaking and gasping as he holds you close, trying to confirm to himself that you are still there and there is no way he could have done such an unforgivable thing to you.

Carlos Vargas;

Carlos stares in a bored way as his hapless victim squirms within their binds, seeming to struggle for freedom. Just another day feeding the animals at his sanctuary and today it was human on the chopping block. The body tumbled and fell down, landing with a sickening thud as the tigers closed in.

He was about to turn away to continue his work when a familiar voice screamed out to him, "Carlos, please!"

The voice made him whirl around in time to see the tigers close in, your frightened and pleasing eyes begging for him to help you. He rushed forwards towards the fence, but there was no way he would reach you fast enough. Your cry was cut off sharply as fangs closed around your neck, silencing you permanently.

- "NO!" Carlos wakes with a loud yell, trying desperately to stop his beloved tigers from killing his dear darling. The shout startles you awake just as quickly, trying to find whatever it was that Carlos had screamed about.

- As soon as it dawns upon Carlos that you are not being mauled by tigers and it was all a nightmare, he will actually begin to cry. He will hold you and kiss you and just try to calm himself before anything else.

Jackson Locklear;

- Once Carlos calms down, he will insist on holding you while the two of you return to sleep. Even if you get back to sleep, Carlos will be awake for a while yet, trying to stay calm and keep himself from having another nightmare.

Your limp body lay in Jackson's trembling arms. His body wracked with sobs as he tried to get you to not leave him. There was nothing he wouldn't give or do to have you come back to him.

Your eyes stared in an empty way up above you, as if looking to the stars you would no longer see. Though you had once been so full of life, you didn't respond to anything Jackson did in an attempt to rouse you. It seemed there truly was no saving you.

With your death, Jackson's world crumbled away into nothingness, swallowing him whole into despair. The awkward way your body lay only made your tragic fall all the more heartbreaking to poor Jackson.

"I'm so sorry.... Please, don't leave me... Please..."

- Jackson wakes slowly, sobbing and trying to take a moment to breathe despite the absolute sorrow in him. He can barely hold himself together as he gasps and shakes in distress and anxiety. It felt so real to sit there and hold you in his arms, leaving him disoriented in a way he had not expected.

- You woke to the sound of heavy and heart wrenching sobs, seeing him sitting with his head in his hands. Jackson is near inconsolable at that moment. In his mind, he may as well have actually done it despite it all being a nightmare.

- Only when he actually takes a moment does he register the sound of your voice as you try to soothe him despite not knowing what was wrong. Upon hearing you and realizing you are still alive, Jackson will immediately grab you and hold you close. He will be so thankful that it was just a horrible nightmare and not actually reality.

Orion Medici;

Another snoop digging through his drafts looking for ideas to steal. Soon to be yet another body under Orion's belt. He had always prided himself on his quick wit and his even quicker skill with a blade.

The figure turned around only to have their throat meet the sharp end of his blade, a clean cut from one side to the next suddenly adorning their soft skin. What Orion didn't expect was the shocked and familiar face he was met with.

The knife fell from his hand with a loud clatter as the world seemed to pause, your throat gurgling where you had been cut. He barely had time to catch you in his arms as you convulsed, trying to stop the rapid loss of blood despite the clear futility of your efforts. Orion was no better as he tried and failed to staunch the flow, hyperventilating as he made continuous attempts to help you.

"Wh- Why, Orion..?"

- Orion woke with a sharp gasp, the blankets balled in his fists and damp with cold sweat. It takes him a moment to orient himself despite being somewhere very familiar to him. He will look around in bewilderment before seeing you and feeling his entire being relax with the sheer relief running through him.

- You are still asleep and resting peacefully beside him as he gets his breathing under control, watching you sleep for a moment. It has felt so real to him that he honestly thought he had killed you, and that thought alone made his heart ache with an intense pain.

- He will be able to return to sleep, but he will likely hold onto you rather tightly just to make sure you are still there with him. He will continue to hold you even while he sleeps, effectively trapping you until he wakes up again and releases you.

Hahne Yamare;

Hahne was a good right hand man. A damn good one. He would be damned if he didn't carry out Evan's orders to the exact, and this was no different. It was just another target he had to eliminate and Hahne would make sure he followed through.

The crack of a rifle went off, the body not too far from him collapsing to the ground with a pained wheeze.

Hahne was no monster, despite his more than monstrous actions. He would not leave the soul lying there to die slowly and in pain. But as he drew closer to the figure, a hollow thud seemed to resonate in his chest when he saw the frightened and dying eyes that he had once loved staring into.

"No! No, this wasn't supposed to happen!" He cried out as he picked up your body, watching the light fade from your terrified eyes, "please! I didn't mean to, please!"

Despite his desperate begging, there was nothing Hahne could do as the light faded from your gaze and left you laying there with an empty stare.

- Hahne jolted as he woke, falling from the bed in a confused panic. His panic woke you, making you look over to where he was on the floor in concern as he struggled against the blankets. When he finally managed to free himself, he was panting and frantically looking around for any sign of you.

- When he does finally catch sight of you, he wraps you up in his arms, trying to just hold you and make sure you were truly there with him. The thought of having been the one to kill you nearly drove him mad, and he needed to know you were alright.

- When he calms down he will tell you about the nightmare he had and he may start to choke up just a bit. The only way he can get back to sleep is if you hold him and let him hold you until he manages to drift off again.

Amira Woods;

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to!"

Amira cries out as you collapse into her arms, the clear safety shank she keeps on her person protruding from your neck. She can't help but focus on the way that it seems to move and twitch with every beat of your heart, spilling more and more of your precious lifeblood.

Truly, she thought you had been a stranger trying to grab her, not her beloved. She was in tears as she held you, trying to keep the bleeding contained despite having hit your jugular. If she could just get her brother Walter on the phone-

The choking cough that rattled from you broke off that line of thought as your eyes began to roll back, a clear sign that you were not long for this world.

- "Wait!" Amira wakes up with a shrill scream, tears pouring down her face as she practically flies out of bed and onto her feet. Her sudden awakening startles you awake as well, looking around in a panic to find whatever has set Amira off. When you don't see anything immediately, you look to her for answers.

- When Amira takes a moment to take a breath, she realizes that she is standing in your shared room and you are completely safe in bed. She will start crying all over again as she looks to you to comfort her following the nightmare that still held dominion over her mind.

(Didn't realize I pushed post, so I will reblog with Julie, Kaya, Hada, and Ollpheist added on)

[give-me-a-username-plz]

it’s actually a miracle that no one has ever written a French Wars of Religion jegulus au fic.

hear me out, hear me out;

It’s the 1500’s. The French monarchy is desperately trying to keep themselves and the Catholic Church superior to the Protestant faith, specifically the Huguenots. King Henry II of France (Orion) dies unexpectedly, leaving the throne to an eleven year old Henry III (Regulus), after the death of his brother. Too young to take the throne, Catherine de Medici (Walburga) takes over the throne and commits a LOT of violent crimes. The other brother, the Duke of Aleçnon (Sirius) abandons the whole monarchy and joins a group of Protestant Rebels called The Malcontents (tell me that isn’t the closest thing to Marauders you have EVER HEARD). Part of this group is Henry of Navarre (James) a protestant aristocrat attempting to take the throne and promote religious freedom. They call him the Good King Henry (something that SCREAMS James Potter).

[en-scribed]

CENTER OF THE WORLD [fantasy short story]

Personified immortal Stars have lived secretly on Earth throughout history. This piece takes place in 16th century Florence, right at the brink of the Copernican Revolution. Sol, the beloved sun king, is presented with an endless battle and an impossible choice. The Stars' world was created by myself and @heirmyst. Previous post: [THE THREE BIRDS] [ORION'S FINEST] [GATHERER OF GRAIN] Word count: 4,453

The air grew colder by the moment as the sun set. Sol, soaring through the overcast sky, had to stamp down the instinct to burn brighter. Instantly, as daylight faded, the flight grew tedious, but not because of the cold. Sol hastened his wingbeats to reach his destination sooner; anything to stop having to dim his flames.

Finally, he descended into the old Medici palace’s chapel, only letting the protective cloaking field drop once the walls securely surrounded him.

Beaming, he spread his arms, ready to receive his fellow Stars. “I am here!” 

His flight-blurred vision cleared, only to reveal… nothing. The cavernous space of the chapel only echoed back his own words.

And the sound of a loose page turning. 

Sol walked toward the steady, calming light that radiated from an opposite corner. Cann sat alone, hunched against a wall in a way that couldn’t have possibly been comfortable for their wings and engrossed in a bound tome.

“I said,” Sol repeated, with greater enunciation, now that he spoke only to one fellow Star. “I have arrived!” 

“I can see that, my king,” Cann said mildly, without looking up from their book. “I heard you the first time, and knew you were coming well before then.”

He stiffened. “Did I fail to disguise my light enough?” 

“Oh no, it was more than enough for the mortals,” Cann said with a laugh, their eyes glowing with lavender flame to make the point. “But there’s no hiding from me.”

Sol sighed. He folded his wings back down and leaned against the pillar facing the other Star. “Where are the others, Canopus?”

Cann shushed him, impatient. “I’m almost done!” 

“Is it truly that riveting?” Sol asked flatly. “You read too much.” 

Cann didn’t give him the satisfaction of responding to the remark, or even acknowledging that they heard it. They simply flipped through the last fifty pages in the span of a few minutes and put it aside. Finally meeting Sol’s eyes with the utmost seriousness, they said, “No such thing as reading too much.”

“There is for you!” Sol argued. “You can know anything without lifting a finger. What use would you have for mortal books?” Absently, he picked it up, ready to cast it aside before the words on the cover caught his eye. It read, On the Revolutions of the Heavenly Spheres.

“For one,” Cann said, smiling, “It’s an invaluable resource on keeping up with the mortals. I know what I know, but it’s useful to keep a finger on the pulse of what they know.”

Sol found himself leaning forward. “And… what do they know?”

“It appears that one of them has taken a shot in the dark.” They held a palm out and produced a small pocket illusion; two spinning orbs, one large and golden, the other small and blue. “He has come to the revelation that the Earth revolves around the sun, not the other way around.” 

Before Sol knew it, he was perusing the book. The words blended together, but the diagrams scattered throughout held his attention. He vaguely remembered secret keeper al-Tusi and the rest of the observatory students in Iran shoving quaint pictures in his face, some near identical to the ones in this tome. Somehow, their legacy had carried itself to a mind several lands away.

“How did the astronomers of the caliphates never come to this?” Sol asked.

“A misguided question,” Cann said, ending the illusory demonstration. “You cannot judge them by the standards we have because of what we know, especially because they were brilliant on their own terms. I believe you would be better served asking why this man did make this departure.”

But Sol’s mind did not have the space to ponder Cann’s philosophical proposals. Basking in the satisfaction of finally having his centrality out in the open, no matter how fringe this mortal’s reach might have been, was too momentous to be disrupted by anything else. 

He caught Cann’s wry, knowing stare and tossed the book back to them. “As if I needed the humans to tell me what we’ve always known,” he said, trying his best to wipe the smile off his face. “Well, leaving that… why have I returned to an empty palace tonight?” 

Cann stood, smoothly snapping to attention. “Hauntings have decided, very unwisely, to camp outside the city walls. A show of force, I gather. The others have flown out to neutralize the flock.”

“All of them?” Sol asked, surprised. “Even Sirius?”

“Especially Sirius,” Cann corrected. “Vega insisted upon having him. You know how they get when the other side of fate’s scales tips even an inch downward.”

Sol nodded proudly. “North Star V never misses,” he said. “Still. How have they not asked you to join?”

“We aren’t that desperate just yet,” Cann said lightly. “Some blasts need to be held close to the chest.”

On cue, colorful flames lit up the chapel’s entrance. As Sol hastened to adjust his crown and take his place on the steps, Cann strode forth to meet the Stars. The group, freshly out of battle, frantically scrambled to make their various reports known. V shoved their way to the front of the group, buzzing with urgent blue lightning, but at the sight of Cann, considerably relaxed. 

Placing a sympathetic hand on Cann’s shoulder, V said, “I wish you only the absolute best of luck.”

Cann only blinked at them, confused. “For what?”

“My king!” Alpha Pavonis’ cry rose above the other Stars�� chattering, catching Sol’s ear. “May I have a word?” 

Before Sol could open his mouth, Cyon sprang to hold Alpha Pavonis back. “Oh, don’t you dare!” she yelled. “You do not get to skip your way directly to the king, Pav. This is unacceptable!”

The two continued to struggle against each other, the arguing punctuated by warning blasts. V turned to Cann. “Enjoy dealing with that,” they said. “I’m going to do away with the debris from the latest flock.”

“Wait, the latest flock? Vega!” Cann protested, grabbing for their hand, but V was too fast, making a quick exit in a flash of lightning. Cann gestured wildly in Sol’s direction. 

“Stars, silence!” Sol commanded. Instantly, the room quietened. Cyon had managed to pin Pav to the marble floor, before she was pulled to her feet by Sirius, who whispered calming words to her. Satisfied, Sol made his way down the steps. “Bring forth your reports one at a time.” 

“Affirmative,” Cyon said, dropping Sirius’ gloved hand and walking toward Sol. “You see, the matter at hand is that Alpha Pav—”

Sol held up a hand to stop her. “Now, if you will begin by recounting a fellow Star’s argument, I would rather hear it from the source themself.” He glanced at Pav, who was getting back on their feet. “The sky is yours, Alpha Pavonis.”

“Ah… thank you?” Pav stammered out. Quickly regaining composure, They stood tall and trailed their peacock hued robes behind them. “My king, as I’m certain you have gathered from the North Star’s words, we have not one Haunting flock on our hands, but a ready, almost endless queue. Every time we neutralized one at the walls, another rose to take its place. We slowed it down, and even then, Vega might meet another while they’re gone.”

“Are you implying we are low on firepower?” Sol asked. “Has Sirius’ deployment not eased any such concerns?”

“Yes, but—”

“Yes, and,” Cyon corrected sharply. “Show some respect.” Beside her, Sol could have sworn he saw Sirius grinning under the cover of his mask. 

Pav glared at the two, but went on undeterred. “Why continue the grueling task of taking them out one by one, when we have what it takes to frighten them off for good?”

They paused, as if their implication was obvious. Sol glanced back at Cann, who only shrugged. They were as confused as he was. 

“Explain yourself,” Sol said. 

“Why… we have you, my king.” Pav said. “If you send a warning using the most magnificent celestial body in the sky, they’d be forced to take heed, yes?”

“Sol,” Cann began, warningly. “This proposal is too ambitious for its own good.”

“You’ve spoken above your station more than enough, Pav!” Cyon piped up. 

“Sirius,” Sol said. “Please restrain your wife.” 

“Of course, my king!” Sirius’ constant flames brightened as he reached for Cyon’s arm. “Regardless, for the benefit of the court, Pav’s suggestion would be a severe violation of our arrangements with the Medici. Any unforeseen celestial events here will be seen by the entire population of Florence, and we could be—”

“Cyon,” Sol cut in, already tired. “Please silence your wife.”

“Heard loud and clear, my king.” But she was still glaring daggers at Pav, who was looking back at her with presumptuous, smug satisfaction. Sirius was barely managing to hold her back from attacking again.

Sol decided he had no time for this. “Cann!”

Cann stepped forward, wings and arms spread to usher everyone out of the room. “Say no more. Because no one here is my wife.”

“Your loss,” Sirius said, and collective airy laughter echoed around the chapel.

Sol let himself breathe, relieved by the tension dissolving. Sirius laced his fingers through Cyon’s and led her out of the room. The other Stars swiftly followed them, their conversations now far more lighthearted. Only Pav lingered behind, slow to budge. Sol took a tentative step toward them.

“That means you too, Alpha Pavonis!” Cann ordered, cutting any action short now that Pav had no choice but to listen. “Move!” 

“All of your concerns have been heard!” Sol promised the exiting Stars. “Allow me until the next sunrise. We will proceed only with what is best for you!”

“You heard him, next sunrise!” Cann repeated for emphasis. “For skies’ sake, don’t let me catch any of you out of your quarters before then. I will know!” 

Once everyone else left the hearing range, Sol sank into the altar seat, gripping the crown on his head tightly between his hands. He only had some hours to figure this out, and failures awaited him in every direction; which of them would be less shameful to bear? 

Cann cleared their throat. “Is everything alright?” they asked, the calculated performance of the king’s advisor flawlessly shifting to the softness of a friend. 

Sol tried to smile back, but it felt hollow. It always did when he was with Cann. And yet, even as he knew there was no use, he found himself saying, “Yes. Hauntings and mortals have never stopped us before. This is an inconsequential matter.”

Cann raised an eyebrow. They both knew full well nothing involving the sun could ever be inconsequential to Stardom. 

“I… must think this over,” Sol said. “Alone.”

“If you say so,” Cann said easily, no trace of accusation in their voice. Sol watched them gratefully as they marched out of the chapel without another word. He loved it when they played along this way; it almost lulled him into the false comfort of thinking something could get past their sharp, all-seeing eyes. 

With no one except his own light for company, Sol mulled over the decision, thinking about every angle hard enough for flames to rise his fingers, carelessly scorching the wooden chair. Skies above, fragile human furniture was a pain.

He stood, hating how he couldn’t even claim ownership to the walls around him. Resentfully, he let his gaze drift over the painted frescos surrounding him, scenes of mortal processions and hunts. He’d find the pomp endearing if it wasn’t so offensive right then. These were the beings he and his people had to hide from? When would they wake up to the truth that the Stars outshone them in every way?

Except… His stroll through the hall finally came to Cann’s forgotten pile of books. On top rested the one that spoke of the sun’s centrality. 

Some already had woken up, hadn’t they?

Coming to a decision, Sol walked out of the chapel, steps as delicate as air. He could not sit idly. The lurkers thought they were out of reach, with their clever queue rotation, but Pav was right; they’d run at the first sight of Sol. He weaved through the palace corridors and bypassed the nearest window in a flash of light. 

Veiling his fire as well as he could given the stark contrast against night, he fluttered carefully into the air. 

Lightning struck the palace roof; V had arrived, landing unsteadily against the rough masonry. Sol moved instinctively, backing himself against the nearest wall to hide. Did they have to return just as he was leaving?

“Vega?” Sirius’ voice floated in, his footsteps rushing to join them. “Did you manage the mess? The wall remains untouched, yes?”

Catching their breath, V laughed. “Managed,” they repeated bitterly, with a break in their voice that made Sol worry. Were they hurt? “Guess who came to taunt me when I went to clean up?”

Sirius sighed. “Another encampment?”

“I don’t know where they keep coming from! It’s as if they can’t leave the walls unoccupied for even a wingbeat, the stubborn fucks.” 

“We outdo their stubborness, then,” Sirius said, his voice far less confident than the words. Sol’s heart sank; his strongest soldiers were battling themselves to exhaustion, all for the feeble, sheltered minds of this city’s mortals. “We need a plan of action. Between Pav and Cyon, whom do you think—” 

“Stop,” V cut in, irritated. “Your nonsense infighting can wait until sunrise. We aren’t even supposed to be out of our quarters. In, now!” 

Their footsteps and further conversation faded. If Sol’s resolve ever faltered during his exit, this hardened it beyond return. The Hauntings’ intimidation tactic could not be allowed to stand anymore.

Letting the anger fuel him forward, Sol set a course straight for Florence’s walls.

The closer he flew to the edges of the city, the murkier the sky became. Too soon, every precious star adorning the cloak of night disappeared, and he had nothing to glance up at for strength.

Enough, he thought to himself, steeling his nerves. It is I who must give them strength now. 

The weight of the blotted sky burdening his every wingbeat, Sol arrived quietly to the scene of the northern gate. Below, three Hauntings lay in wait on burned grass. Sol didn’t know it was possible to make nighttime even darker; these sentient black holes masquerading as earthly creatures always proved him wrong. He set his feet down on the wall’s brick facade, stepped off the end, and let his light burst forth. 

“Leave these walls!” he yelled.

Immediately, high whistles rang out as the Hauntings rushed into formation. One of the quicker front soldiers, clam-like in shape, launched a black-stained pearl the size of a boulder. 

Sol braced himself, burning hands ready to intercept it… but the hit never came.

Just as the cannonball corralled to knock into Sol, he was on the ground, untouched, the pearl dropping unceremoniously a few feet away from him. The Hauntings froze, confused, inadvertently allowing him a moment to regain his bearings. 

Enough to see that the stained pearl now glowed lavender.

Keeping a flame at the ready to ward off the Hauntings, Sol looked up at the wall behind him and yelled, “Cann!” 

On command, a head emerged at the top. Cann peeked down. “My king,” they greeted, not bothering to sound the slightest bit chastened. 

“What are you doing here?” Sol asked. The clam Haunting unwisely decided to rush him. Sol’s flame cut him down in an instant. “Out of your quarters, at this hour?” 

“I could be asking you the same thing!” Cann swooped down at the last word, tackling both remaining Hauntings at once. “Did you think you could hide from me?” Even as they punctuated each word with a calculated strike, Sol got the feeling the anger in their voice was not for the creatures. “Or did you want me to graciously look away, as you crept off to this endless fight?”

Successfully, Cann brought a frail reptilian Haunting flat onto the ground. The companion, an armored, plump one, continued to trade blows with them.

Sol rushed to their side, knocking the Haunting off course with one fatal punch to the head. He shook off the flame, triumphant. “That will teach you.” 

“Sol…” Cann whispered warningly.

“Don’t… think this is over,” a new voice said, wet and halting. The clam Haunting was still on the ground, a hole burned into his weak internal flesh. That did nothing to compromise the smugness of his declaration. “You can’t take us all.”

Sol’s fist burned, but Cann touched his arm, silently telling him to save it.

“Wonderful,” Cann muttered. “Another entry in this queue will be here any moment.”

“Oh, don’t act as if this was wrong of me!” Sol shot back. “Would you rather I sat comfortably in the palace while this went on? Pav said—”

“Pav is a showboating windbag,” they said drily. “Why are we listening to them?”

“It is our only option,” he said. “These Hauntings need to be cleared out, and if the cost is some inconvenience to the mortals—”

“The cost is you, Sol!” Cann’s voice rose to a volume Sol had never heard before. Softer, they went on, “You don’t have anything to prove to mortals, or Hauntings… anyone.” Desperate, they reached for his hand. “The sun’s face is all the more precious because it’s our secret. Why would you throw that away?”

“Cann…” Sol’s words died in his throat. He never considered what he’d be giving away. Even if he frightened the Hauntings, what would become of the Stars if they were unveiled to the mortals thanks to his carelessness?

He was the center of the world. For the first time, he hated that truth.

A dark mist closed in, followed by quick feet hitting the ground. More Hauntings were coming. Sol’s heart raced. What was he going to do, surrender to the enemy, or betray the secret? He racked his brain, at an impossible loss.

Until he locked eyes with the Star beside him, and everything fell into place.

“Do you know what I’m thinking?” he asked.

Cann’s smile shone even brighter than their burning eyes. “I know everything.” 

Without having to say anything else, the two of them parted, Cann holding their ground against the incoming flock as Sol took to the sky. Trusting Cann to keep the Hauntings busy, Sol watched the horizon, waiting for the perfect moment. 

The smallest glimmer of the coming dawn’s fire was all he needed. “Now!” he yelled. 

He glanced down, only to realize with horror that he’d distracted Cann at a crucial juncture. A well-toned amphibian Haunting seized the opportunity, wrestling Cann to their knees as the force of the flock descended on them. Sol hovered uselessly on the spot, paralyzed by the sight, his eyes darting between the battle below and the sunrise. 

He could not fail. Not like this.

Then, the sky cleared.

A concentrated beam of lavender light had cut through an opening between the Haunting’s limbs and shot into the sky like a beacon. It reached its zenith and dispersed, sending a dome of thin, shimmering illusion descending onto the battleground. 

A curtain. They were safe from outside eyes.

Cann brushed their horrified assailants off and struggled to their feet. They looked up at Sol. “Do it!” 

The sun was now painting the sky red. Sol caught hold of its fire and, working like a strategically placed glass, focused its wrath on the toad Haunting who had led the latest charge. The skin ignited. High-pitched screams pierced the air, from the toad and the rest of the flock alike. Sol glared, unblinking, making his silent threat clear. The sounds faded mercifully fast into the distance as the Hauntings made their escape, away from the walls of Florence. Cann joined Sol in the air, wasting no time in putting distance between themselves and the retreating flock.

“Are there more coming?” Sol asked.

Cann briefly scrunched their face in concentration, then relaxed. “No,” they said, satisfied. “All of them are retreating.”

The weight of the sky seemed to be lifted off Sol’s shoulders as the two Stars made their way to the wall. They’d done the impossible, put an end to the endless fight. 

Sol landed on a higher palisade of the wall, and beamed at Cann when they followed suit. “Let it never be said you don’t deliver, Canopus.”

“Never be said?” Cann asked. “Even by you?”

The joke lacked their usual flair. Still, Sol didn’t let that chip away at the euphoria of a hard-won victory. “You’ll catch me saying no such thing.” He clapped Cann on the shoulder. “Truthfully, I don’t know how you—”

The force of the playful hit made Cann stumble a step forward. They caught themself in time… but that slight gesture shouldn’t have fazed one of his strongest Stars at all. Sol noticed too late that they were clutching their robes pointedly to the side with both hands, as if to cover something.

He stood at attention, now alarmed. “Cann…?”

“It’s alright!” they managed through shallow breaths, smiling so genuinely that for a moment, Sol fully believed the words. “We won.”

They collapsed at his feet, and the protective dome above faded to nothing.

“No!” Sol sank to his knees beside them. He turned them over to reveal viscous black staining their robes. The lead Haunting had poisoned them in the scuffle; it had corroded deep enough to graze their skin. He brought a flaming palm to the sizzling wound. Even in the warmth of his arms, Cann was shivering. Their eyes did not open. “Fight it,” he begged.

He couldn’t win this way. This cost was too much to bear. 

“Over there!” a voice called from the sky. V led Cyon and Pav to the wall, their excitement and relief palpable through the wind. As they flew closer though, V’s smile instantly fell. The three Stars landed on the top of the wall.

“Cann, you idiot…” V cursed under their breath. “What happened?”

“I used the sun to drive them out,” Sol said, not taking his eyes off Cann.

“Oh?” Pav asked, with barely restrained glee.

“But I made certain no one would see it.”

“Naturally,” Cyon said, pointedly glaring at Pav. “Because how thoughtless would the alternative have been, right?” 

Sol’s face burned with embarrassment. As if he needed to be told now.

“Both of you need to shut it!” V took it upon themself to say. “Make yourselves useful and get them to Sirius, before the Haunting venom spreads too far.”

The Stars gently pried Cann away from Sol’s grasp. Still continuing their debate wordlessly with their eyes, Cyon and Pav flew off, supporting Cann’s weight between them. Sol watched after them, only snapping out of his thoughts when V spoke.

“The old ‘illusion of safety’ curtain trick, yes?” V asked, impressed. “Why didn’t I think of that?” 

“Would it have ended better if you had?”

“Don’t say that, it ended well enough! If the Hauntings have even half a brain between them, you scared them off for good!” V argued. “And Cann will be fine. It’s Cann, for skies’ sake.”

“They better be.”

V sighed. “I’m going to clean up this mess.” They gestured vaguely to the fires and black puddles. “Go back to the palace. See how they’re holding up.”

Sol was off to the palace practically before they finished speaking. To mask his flight, he followed a sunbeam; it was, thankfully, much easier to disguise himself in the daytime.

He practically kicked down the ornate door to the chapel. 

“Come now!” Sirius was saying. His gloves were off, and his constant flames were uninhibited as he tried to hold a struggling Cann down to the altar. He was succeeding, but only barely; Cann almost matched his strength. “Would it end to you hold still for—”

Sol cleared his throat, and the two of them snapped to attention. “Everything is in order, I assume?” he said.

“Yes, my king!” Sirius said. “But I need to attend to them at least until noon. It’s simply Haunting wound protocol.”

Cann scoffed. “Spare me the protocol, Sirius. The poison barely even took.”

Sirius crossed his arms. “And whose fire is to be credited for that?”

“If I may,” Sol said, amused. “Sirius, allow me a word with Cann. Protocol will be followed unfettered after this.”

Sirius bowed his head and stood. “As you wish.” Leaning closer to Sol, he whispered, “Make sure to dedicate at least some of your time to telling them to stay put.” He vacated the chapel, leaving Sol and Cann alone and shutting the door securely behind him. 

“Ironic,” Cann remarked. “That he believes you can tell me anything about staying put.”

Sol didn’t return the humor. “Do not deflect from the matter at hand.”

“Oh, are we doing this? Fine,” Cann said with a roll of their eyes, like they were being asked to perform a menial chore. “Yes, I’m perfectly intact and will be back to fighting shape by next sunrise. No, the poison is not your fault, and if you even try to insist otherwise, you fundamentally misunderstand why I followed you. And don’t worry, as far as the other Stars will know, your unbelievably rash stunt did not happen, and the curtain was our brilliant plan all along.” They took a breath. “Did I miss anything?”

Sol stammered a few half hearted responses, having to give up in the end to avoid appearing even more foolish. He took a seat beside Cann. “I wish you would stop taking all the gravitas out of my heartstopping speeches,” he said finally, smiling despite himself.

“You are very predictable.”

Companionable silence overtook them. Sol draped a wing around Cann’s side in case the biting cold of the poison hadn't subsided. Cann did not pull away.

“It bothers you, doesn't it?” they asked softly. “That I can read your intentions like an open book, but you can never have that certainty about mine?”

“It would help,” Sol admitted. “If I knew you intended to take every hit at the wall…”

“You couldn't have stopped me,” Cann said. “No more than I could have stopped you from sneaking out.”

“Well, thank the skies for that, I suppose.” He watched the murals around him, feeling pride, more powerful than the envy or indifference the pieces had inspired before. Despite it all, the truth remained that he’d survived more in the past hours than the commemorated mortals would face in a lifetime. He could make peace with that, if nothing else. “Stardom lives to see another day.”

[artemisia-black]

The possibilities about witches and wizards positions during major historical events before they all went into hiding is fascinating imo. For example, how do you think the Blacks would have positioned themselves in the War of the Roses? What about Henry VIII making the Church of England? (Especially since you hc the Blacks as Roman Catholic?)

Since we have a Malfoy courting Elizabeth I as verified by Rowling, I can see the Blacks basically going “ew, why?” Maybe the Tudors had magical blood in them! 🤔😂 That, or the Malfoys were doing what they do best to get close to the powerful - or both.

Also side note - the Medicis apparently had an alchemist! Idk if you knew. I wanted to share since you delightfully name dropped the Sforzas in Pietas.

oooh so I have a really elaborate HC, that pre-statute the wizarding world heavily interefered with muggle politics.

The Blacks aren't as open as the Malfoys about their muggle mixing, but they did interact with the muggle world.

Grimmauld is far older than it looks and was designed to be close enough to London and power while being isolated.

Originally (during the Roman times and the Dark Ages), Grimmald place was a Roman villa and was outside of Roman London. Then as London grew up around it, it adapted to look like the houses around it.

I think they engaged in some war profiteering during the Wars of the Roses and played both sides as both sides were Catholic at the time. Selling magically embedded weapons (where the magic wears off, of course) and intelligence for land and gold.

Also, during the dissolution of the monasteries, I like to think they took some relics and artefacts for their own collections while preaching about how it was proof that muggles are godless heathens.

Additionally, I can imagine stories of the Puritan witch burnings providing fuel for the blood supremacy fire. And the Blitz, making Orion put up all the wards on Grimmauld.

Hahah Catherine De Medici patronising a necromancer and Nostradamus, inspired me to put the Sforzas into Pietas. Also Elizabeth the first's advisor John Dee, is a noted Occultist.

[askmypjoocs]

My pjo ocs include

Alexander smith son of Dullahan and half twin brother to James smith son of Apollo and boyfriend of Carlos valdez

Carlos Valdez is a fourteen year old Aztec demigod son of Huitzilopochtli the god of the sun and war and Sacrifice, Dart-Hurler, The Divine Hurler, Hummingbird of the Southand and Rosa Valdez and the cousin of Leo Valdez and the Great-grand of Sammy Valdez and the grandson Sammy Valdezjr and the nephew of Esperanza Valdez.

Jame smith is a son of Apollo and the maternal half brother of Alexander smith

Wolf was a demigod son of Apollo and the former champion of nyx and he was made a god by nyx/ nox and he is the Greek god of dragons and the roman god of dragon and challenges and the Celtic god of dragons, honour, celebrations and archery

Artemis frost is a trans son of Artemis and Mr wood and the adoptive son Orion frostsr and the adoptive/half brother of Orion frostjr and boyfriend of Jamie Hudson

Jamie Hudson is a son of Hephaestus and Olivia Hudson daughter of Venus and and the adoptive grandson of Lisa Hudson and Lilly Hudson and the adoptive great grandson of Trivia

Lucas Moore son of lupa and Roman legacy of Roman Apollo

[fluorescentpipedream]

Ares - The God of War needed a new picture, I found this the other day and really liked it from Voltaire’s Insta. Ares -has- been exiled due to the “game” he and Loki have been playing for well over a millennia that was shattered by Sara and her travels through time. He’s up to something, though I can’t figure out exactly what is going on. But if I’ve learned anything about my characters, when they want an update, something's brewing. 

Xavier Medici - I finally managed to settle on a good picture for Xavier, though it’s not mine, I found it somewhere and I’m pretty sure it’s actually a painting. But...it works! Xavier has been one of the ones behind the scenes of Section for most of its inception, bringing in Justice Malone to work with him and Jurgen Uri in order to wrangle in some of the supernatural forces existing under the normal world. 

Jón Kristiansen - 38-ish years old, former performer for Cirque Du Soleil, classically and modernly trained ballet dancer, recently divorced and looking to do something more contemporary with his talents. His nickname is JJ, I think because his middle name starts with a J too, but it’s got a complicated spelling so he doesn’t typically use it. “Icelandic heritage, go figure” More recently he’s done choreography for several blockbuster films including La La Land and the unfortunate Cats remake. He doesn’t like to claim that one, who can blame him?

He is recently divorced, after 10yrs with his husband he was accused of cheating with a younger musician, which he was not doing. The 20-something was a friend, nothing else. His ex got most things in their settlement so he’s looking to pick up the pieces and do something new

Wizarding World characters!

Firstly, I changed Orion Marcone to someone else, and I know the robe looks weird but I’m kind of proud of it. Orion is the grandson of Newt Scamander and is just like him. A little autistic, a little hyper and obsessed with the care and treatment of magical creatures (and he likes a lot of Muggle things too, he’s got a small collection of miscellaneous muggle items like marbles and some other things he’s found interesting). Orion works closely with Hagrid down in the Magical Menagerie, an offshoot greenhouse type building made especially for his grandfather’s creatures. Inside there’s a Niffler, a Demiguise and a wider variety of magical beasts for the students to learn about, understand and know how to identify and protect. 

Daegon Targaryen - Daegon is the middle brother of the Targaryen family and dangerous when provoked. He works for the Ministry as an Auror though he’s not so much about catching the Dark Wizards as he is doing what he can to keep certain ones from being found. He and his sister Seraphina (sp?) are a couple though when she turns to Barty Crouch Jr when he steps up as the Dark Lord. Daegon serves no one but his family and himself and has intention on taking over as the Minister of Magic once Barty’s vision is finally realized. (Barty will end up changing his name to Emeric Crouch shortly after taking over as the Dark Lord, there’s nothing less intimidating than Barty)

Geralt Targaryen - Geralt is the eldest of the family and in love with his youngest sister, Beatrice, whom he takes a very dominant position over. He has been traveling off and on throughout the magical world, I’m not sure what he does exactly but he’s been in Romania working with dragons since the family is known as the only remaining dragon riders in the world. He commands a massive Ukranian Ironbelly, and though he doesn’t like the Weasleys much, he will work with them. When his sister tells him that she’s taken up the right hand of the new Dark Lord it sparks a bit of confusion until he finds out what happened to Voldemort then commits the dragons of his brood to Barty (Emeric). 

Thom Lanier Crouch (Targaryen) - The only biological son of Barty Crouch and Seraphina Targaryen, Thom is a 5th year Slytherin who has some interesting abilities due to his family being dragon riders and almost always dark wizards. He has the ability to use a form of the Imperious Curse in his voice, without actually casting the spell directly in order to influence people to do what he wants. He starts out his time in Hogwarts being friends and later wanting to be more than friends with the muggle born Diana Vaughn though when things at home take a turn, he attempts to turn Kristy Summers to the Dark arts so her ancient magic can be used to help with the revolution his mother and father are planning. Tom’s heart isn’t really in it and after seeing what kind of damage the ancient magic can do, he turns his back on his family in order to help his friends and go back to Diana, if she’ll have him. 

Kadence “Kai” Hightower - Auror for the Ministry of Magic and MACUSA, he is also Percival Graves’ former brother in law. After his little brother turned dark on him and his husband, Kai sought a way to recover from the pull of the darkness himself. He and his brother had always been close. Kai was first introduced to Evelyn Monroe when she met Percy the first time to get her mark removed and start down her own path as an Auror. He fell in love with her quickly and they spent quite a bit of time together, but because she was in mourning of her lost son and the supposed death of her husband, Barty, he didn’t make a move too quickly to get into her favor, but rather set himself up as a friend and consort should she need a shoulder to fall on. When the darkness sets in over London as a new Dark Lord rises to power from the ashes of the last, Kai takes a transfer from MACUSA to the Ministry and is brought on as an extra hand at Hogwarts for the security of the students. 

[designmiss]

Alfabeto medico, il poster Orion Creatives https://www.design-miss.com/alfabeto-medico-il-poster-di-orion-creatives/ Rappresentano la scienza e la razionalità, eppure, quando si tratta di scrivere, i medici hanno una grande fantasia. Tutto il loro estro viene fuori prorompente nel momento in cui si accingono a […]

[carewyncromwell]

Part two of the Cinderella AU! A few notes, just before we get started --

Although this story’s setting includes magic and fictional countries, its overall aesthetic is strongly based on the early Renaissance, most specifically 1550′s France and Italy, around the time of the Italian Wars. Therefore the palace of Royaume where Carewyn works is very evocative of French palaces such as Versailles and the Chateau de Chambord -- this room she’s pictured in above, in particular, is based on the Queen’s Chambers in Versailles. In this written section and in the picture of Orion above, we also see a secret passage in the palace of Florence, based off Italy’s Palazzo Vecchio, which also features an entire maze of passages. As another example, Orion’s real first name, “Cosimo,” is an Italian derivative of the name Cosmas, meaning “order” or “decency.” One of the most well-known historical bearers of the name was Cosimo de Medici, who founded the Medici political dynasty in the real-world Italian province of Florence and was a large patron of the arts during the Renaissance. “Henri,” Andre’s real first name, likewise references King Henry II of France.

Because this is a more fantasy-based setting, the songs Carewyn sings won’t just have historical links, but might also be references to other Cinderella adaptations. In this case, “The Sweetest Sounds” was originally written for Rodgers and Hammerstein’s play No Strings, but was later featured in the 1997 film adaptation of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella. (Which, for the record, is one of the best Cinderella adaptations ever made -- go watch it.) “Sing Sweet Nightingale” is from Disney’s original animated version of Cinderella, which -- fun fact -- just like Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs made thirteen years earlier in 1937, saved the studio from bankruptcy. Sonnet 29 by William Shakespeare is slightly anachronistic here, as even if it’s from the Renaissance, it was likely published in the 1590′s...but I think if you read the words, you might see why I included that musical cover for Carewyn in this AU.

Carewyn, even in her canon, does have unusually narrow feet! Her size is an 8 narrow. It’s a problem that my maternal grandmother struggled with her entire life, especially while growing up during the Great Depression.

Previous part is here -- full tag is here -- and featuring in this part alongside many HPHM characters is Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia, who belongs to my friend @kc-needs-coffee! Make sure to send some love her way, yes?

x~x~x~x

Within several weeks, Carewyn had settled into life at the palace of Royaume. Although the workload was a lot more extensive than it was at home simply due to the amount of beds she had to make, floors she had to sweep and wash, surfaces she had to polish, and rooms she had to clean, it was truthfully a lot more pleasant of a work environment for Carewyn. She didn’t mind working hard or having high expectations put upon her -- at least she could do her work in peace, without her vile cousins going out of their way to walk right across the floor she’d just finished cleaning with dirty shoes so she’d have to start all over again.

One thing Carewyn did notice, however, was that the castle staff was rather limited, for how large the palace was. She saw a few other maidservants in passing, but by and large, she ended up cleaning entire wings of the castle by herself. Yet she never complained, and that only endeared her more to the royal family and the castle staff. There were times when the royal chamberlain -- an elderly, but sharp-eyed man with a full white beard named Albus Dumbledore -- amusedly remarked that the maidservant must have a kind of magic all her own, for her to get so much done without any help. Although Dumbledore himself meant it metaphorically, it was a rumor that flitted through the palace more seriously among the rest of the staff. After all, how else could someone so tiny reach the crystal chandeliers well enough to clean them better than anyone else had, all by herself? One such person who heard the rumors was castle guard Bill Weasley, and he found out the answer to that question one day on his way back from a meeting with the King and Queen.

Upon catching the sound of someone singing a familiar tune on the other side of a closed door, Bill curiously opened it and peeked into the Queen’s bedchambers. There he found tiny ginger-haired Carewyn balancing on top of the decorated mantle along the wall so that she could polish the crystal chandelier by hand. She’d tied up the long skirt of her burnt-orange-and-beige dress with her red hair ribbon just enough that she wouldn’t have to worry about tripping, showing off a pair of very worn, slightly-too-big cloth slippers. Even though she was dressed in a maidservant’s uniform with her hair loose and was in a position no noble lady would be caught dead in, her face was made-up and she balanced on the edge of the mantle with remarkable grace.

Once Bill got over his initial surprise, the castle guard couldn’t help but grin in both amusement and a bit of admiration. When Carewyn caught sight of Bill in the doorframe, she froze like a startled cat and her song immediately died in her throat.

“It’s all right!” said Bill. “Don’t stop on my account.”

Carewyn didn’t respond, instead just watching the taller man carefully as she lowered her hand and cleaning cloth from the chandelier. Sensing her nerves despite her stoic expression, Bill offered her a gentler smile.

“Would you like me to get you a ladder?” he asked.

Carewyn’s eyes drifted away, as was often the case when she was uncomfortable, but her expression remained proud.

“No, thank you,” she said quietly. “I can manage.”

Bill walked over and extended a hand to her. “At least let me offer you some help getting down.”

Carewyn looked down at his hand and then up at his face. Her expression softening ever-so-slightly, she came down into a seated position on the mantle, accepted his hand, and then leapt nimbly down into a nearby chair and back down to the floor.

“Thank you, sir,” she said politely.

“No problem,” said Bill with a full smile of his own. “Only, no need to call me ‘sir.’ The name’s Bill -- Bill Weasley, of his Majesty’s guard. And you’d be Carewyn, right?”

Carewyn raised an eyebrow at him as she bent down and untied the red ribbon from her skirt.

“Do I already have such a reputation that it precedes me?”

Bill laughed. “Wow, that’s some upper-crust-level talk! I guess people are right to call you ‘the little lady.’”

He grinned a bit more mischievously. “I have to admit, though...I didn’t reckon I’d find someone called that climbing up into such high places with so little effort. Weren’t you scared of falling?”

Carewyn tied her hair back into a modest ponytail, her gaze once again absently drifting away toward the corner of the room.

“Not particularly. I used to have to climb up on the counters in the kitchen, when ere I had to clean above the cabinets. And the tower windows were too high for me to reach, so I’d have to climb on the furniture and then up onto the windowsills to wash them.”

Bill raised his eyebrows, looking both surprised and slightly impressed. “Didn’t have a ladder then, either?”

“Not one I could access, or that anyone would give me, were I to ask. But it was truly not that much trouble,” she added quickly, seeing Bill’s face. “They were things that needed doing, and I was the only one to do them -- so I found a way.”

Carewyn dipped her cleaning cloth in a bucket of water on the floor, wringing it dry before returning to the mantle to clean it.

Bill glanced around the Queen’s Chambers. Carewyn had temporarily moved a marble bust, vase, and candelabra that no doubt were on the mantle to the floor so she could climb up and clean, but otherwise the room was pristine, with everything from the bed linens to the floor looking like it had never been touched.

Bill looked back at Carewyn, who’d had to go up onto her tiptoes to better reach the back of the mantle. The castle guard couldn’t help but notice how her too-large shoes kept sliding off her feet and frowned slightly.

“...What size do you wear?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Carewyn looked up, startled. Bill flushed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“It’s just -- I noticed your shoes don’t fit. Reckon that might be uncomfortable, and it’s probably not safe, if you’re climbing up on stuff, either. And well, you’re kind of around my mum and sister’s size -- so maybe one of them might have a pair of old shoes that might fit better...”

Carewyn’s surprise slowly melted away -- she actually looked rather touched.

“Thank you,” she said, “but I’m afraid shoes have never fit that well for me, even when they are the right size. They’re always too wide for my feet. My mother used to save up to have a cobbler measure my feet and make a nice pair of shoes fit to size when I was young...but it was always rather expensive even for a child’s shoes, and it just wasn’t practical.”

She rubbed a particular spot on the mantle until it was shining again.

“Fortunately his Highness shares your concerns,” she said without turning around. “He’s actually nearly finished making a pair for me himself.”

“Really?” said Bill, surprised.

“Yes -- though I think it’s because these shoes so thoroughly offended his aesthetic sensibilities,” Carewyn added with a wry smile.

Bill burst out laughing. “That sounds about right!”

Carewyn finished polishing the mantle and set about returning the candelabra to its original spot, going up onto her tiptoes and sliding it back into place. Before she could reach the bust, Bill had strolled over and picked it up, putting it back on the mantle for her.

“Does it go here?” he asked.

Once she’d recovered from her surprise, Carewyn offered the tall guard a grateful smile.

“...Just a little to the left.”

She picked up the vase off the floor, and Bill took it from her and put it up on the mantle too.

From that day on, Bill Weasley was Carewyn’s friend. In the following weeks, he was joined by Bill’s brother Charlie, who served as a castle carpenter. When Charlie came up to fix the door on an ornate armoire in one of the guest suites, he collided with Carewyn, who was making the bed. The two ended up working side by side, talking and singing songs to pass the time. The cheeriness of Carewyn’s singing also helped her earn the friendship of the court artist Badeea Ali, who started positioning herself beside open windows or hallways so that she could listen to Carewyn singing while she worked on her paintings. Before long, it wasn’t too uncommon to catch Carewyn singing a song and Charlie and Badeea echoing it from other rooms a ways away.

“Oh sing, sweet nightingale...sing, sweet nightingale...”

The royal family of Royaume soon grew accustomed to hearing Carewyn singing while they went about their business too. The prince’s second cousin, the Lady Katriona Cassiopeia, in particular, was pleasantly surprised when she realized Carewyn (who’d been washing the library windows at the time) was singing a sonnet from a book she’d read, and the two ended up having a very nice conversation about both the sonnet and other books that they’d read and enjoyed. Andre took to leaving doors open so that he could catch Carewyn singing whenever he was walking from room to room, though his fencing instructor Erika Rath would rather pointedly slam the door closed to shut out all sound while they were training.

“No distractions, Prince Henri,” Erika said rather bluntly.

Andre deflated slightly. Andre’s current opponent -- a stocky, strong-shouldered noblewoman with auburn hair, dark blue eyes and copious freckles dressed in formal fencing gear -- immediately lashed out with her blade, and Andre was forced to block her.

“She’s right, Andre. Carewyn has a lovely voice, I know...but if you’re going to end up on the battlefield at any point, you can’t afford to get complacent.”

Andre gave an over-dramatic sigh. “‘If’ I do...KC, you know I never get to go anywhere -- ”

“And that’s probably just as well,” Lady Katriona, or KC, said levelly, before adding a bit more sourly under her breath, “considering they’ll have all the more reason to retaliate, after the hit we put out on their previous Crown Prince...”

“It was an eye for an eye, as far as I’m concerned,” said Erika rather bluntly. “Our King was killed first -- by a witch they protected, may I add.”

“Heated emotions don’t make for successful war strategy,” KC reminded her.

She and Andre parried their swords, but it didn’t take long for Andre to disarm her.

"Oh, for heaven’s sake -- ” KC swore under her breath.

“My turn,” said Erika dryly.

Her and Andre’s fight was much more aggressive and skilled from the off-set -- Erika was clearly very talented with a blade.

“What would you have proposed then, coz?” Andre asked KC over his shoulder. “I’m not saying I approve of it...but Father chose that plan with the thought that it would dishearten Florence and make them reluctant to keep fighting.”

“Yes, but a lack of strong leadership also makes predicting the enemy’s next moves that much harder,” KC said as she sat herself down in a nearby chair. “Florence’s new heir may be the king’s son, but he’s the child of a peasant, born out of wedlock -- a bastard, who by all accounts was raised in poverty...and therefore someone who likely doesn’t know the in’s and out’s of court politics and could very well end up becoming a pawn in someone else’s chess match. And that someone else definitely won’t be us.”

“A shame it can’t be -- ow!”

Erika successfully disarmed Andre by smacking his hand hard with the hilt of her sword. Even while nursing his hand, though, the Crown Prince of Royaume was smiling.

“Damn -- good show, Erika.”

Meanwhile, in the palace of Florence, the entire royal court had been assembled for a meeting. While the King led his troops in battle, the court wished to discuss a possible military strategy that Florence’s new heir, Prince Cosimo Orion Amari, could then employ on the front lines.

The man with the most authority and investment in the proceedings was the Lord Lucius Malfoy, who was not only the wealthiest royal courtier, but also the most connected -- and he had a proposal to end the War once and for all.

“Our enemies have shown time and again how much they fear the magical arts,” said Lord Malfoy. His voice was sardonic and well-articulated enough to linger on certain consonants. “It’s the one tool they are too cowardly to use -- and when we have the potential for such power at our disposal, would it not be prudent to use it to end the War once and for all?”

The courtiers murmured amongst themselves. Orion glanced around the table. His associates -- Sir Murphy McNully and Lady Skye Parkin -- were both frowning deeply from their seats on either side of him, but the few noblemen who looked wary of Lord Malfoy’s suggestion seemed too afraid to speak in opposition to it.

Orion’s hands clasped in front of him on the table as he surveyed the blond-haired Lord calmly.

"I didn’t know we were turning away any magical aid that had been offered to us,” he said. “Lady Haywood has saved many lives, with her potion remedies. And Master Snape has conjured very impressive illusions, to hide our troops during retreats.”

Orion inclined his head respectfully to the black-dressed court magician standing off to the side. There was a satisfied glint in the man’s black eyes, but otherwise his face remained very stony.

“No one is discounting Severus’s talents,” said Lord Malfoy, inclining his head a bit more curtly in Snape’s direction, “but it seems there is far more that one could do with it. However short-lasting the effects are, magic can still make a dramatic impact and potentially cause lasting damage...”

“Damage?” repeated Orion, his level voice never rising even though his eyebrows did. “Lord Malfoy, I’m no magician...but if I’m not mistaken, magic’s central purpose is to protect, not to harm. Isn’t that why we shielded the fugitive from Royaume so many years ago, when she was first accused of murdering their King?”

Lord Malfoy gave a smile that didn’t touch his gray eyes in the slightest. “In principle, yes -- but there are magics that are more aggressive, and more powerful.”

“Dark magic, do you mean?” asked Orion, his eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly.

Lord Malfoy reacted dismissively. “The Royaumanians already see all magic as black magic -- even the weaker kinds we use now. Does it really matter how they view our methods, particularly if it helps us achieve peace? And truly, can one really argue that we wouldn’t be protecting our nation -- our people -- our way of life -- by attacking full-force? The best defense is a strong offense...and don’t we want this conflict to come to an end quickly, before even more of what we hold dear is lost?”

“You mean like your wealth?” Skye couldn’t stop herself from muttering sourly under her breath in Orion’s ear.

Orion shot her a muted warning look out the side of his eye, before turning his focus back to Lord Malfoy.

“...You make a good argument, Lord Malfoy,” he said quietly. “However...I do not think the King would approve of any strategy that involves the use of dark magic. And both you and I must respect the King’s wishes.”

Lord Malfoy looked incredibly displeased.

“Prince Cosimo,” he said, his lips once again curled up in a cold smile as his gray eyes bore into Orion, “the King is a bit stuck in his ways -- you needn’t follow his will simply because it’s his -- ”

“I never said I was,” Orion cut him off very calmly.

He rose to his feet.

“Thank you all for your time. This meeting is adjourned.”

Lord Malfoy’s lip curled, but he nonetheless was forced to respectfully incline his head as Orion left the room, Skye walking and McNully rolling in his wheeled chair behind him.

“He’s getting bolder,” growled Skye. “He’d only ever hint that we should use dark magic before...”

“I daresay he thought the odds of success would be higher with you than with the King,” said McNully. “Which, yes, I suppose they were...but not high enough that I would’ve risked it.”

“That’s because you know me, McNully,” Orion said patiently. “Lord Malfoy does not. And for now, I’m content to let him underestimate me.”

“Don’t underestimate him either, though, Orion,” McNully warned him under his breath. “Lord Malfoy has a lot of influence over the court. I’d say a good 49% of them are in his pocket financially, and he’s scared another 39% of them into line through other means. And even if you’re heir now, you’re still not safe.”

“Right,” said Skye, her narrowed eyes more openly grim and anxious. “There are a lot of those creeps who don’t even feel like you’re worthy of being here. You should hear the things they call you behind your back -- ‘the Bastard Prince’  -- ‘the Royal Tramp’ -- ‘the Spare Heir’ -- ”

She looked like she wanted to spit nails, but Orion looked remarkably unfazed.

“I can’t control what other people think of me, only what I myself do,” he said levelly. “All I can hope is that by bringing the War to an end on my terms, in a way that brings balance and heals old wounds, I can prove cynical people like Lord Malfoy wrong. Peace is a plant that must be given the space, water, and sunshine needed to grow -- cruelty can’t cultivate a field, however much force might be used to plow it.”

The three had reached a certain hallway. Orion stopped in the middle of it, his black eyes darting from side to side to check that they were alone, before he approached the wall, just between a set of oil paintings.

Skye and McNully both sighed out of frustration and amusement.

“Sneaking out again?” said McNully.

Orion smiled. “Yes. I still seek openings in the wall built around Royaume’s heart -- and just as with individuals, the only way to know a group of people is to be among them.”

He lifted part of the wall aside to reveal a secret door, which he propped open enough to walk behind and start up the exposed stone staircase.

“And I suppose you just expect us to look the other way while you hightail it off into enemy territory again?” asked Skye, her own lips curled up in a smirk.

Orion’s black eyes glittered with mischief and his free hand came up to unbutton the stifling collars of his navy blue doublet and white undershirt as he let the door fall closed behind him.

McNully’s eyes rolled up toward the ceiling. “I’d better go get the coach ready so I can follow him.”

[izzythehutt]

What do you think of Richard Madden in the later episodes of the first season of Medici, with the moustache and the cold look, as a fancast of some sort for Orion?

I can see it. He’s really freaking good looking.

[semjasestef]

reptiloids de' medici ottajano. Ubi late patet latírium ibi Cosmicus Custodes erit actus. no #reptiloids no corrupted #Lyrans no #Orion empire no #zetas no #zetasreticuli no #draconians no #abductions #dna #Humans no #venusians no #humanoids no #reptiles no #insectoid no #insectoids no #dnaeretics no #ereticdna no #nazism no #fascism no #malefic #malefics no Creation' Laws violations = no Destroyers INTET ♥️ Heavenly Sons ♥️ Cosmic Guardians ♥️ Galactic Federation Andromeda ♥️ #Andromeda https://www.instagram.com/p/ChifqGDq9ew/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[globabrand]

Fred Ward, ‘The Right Stuff’ And ‘Short Cuts’ Actor, Dead At 79

Ward, who appeared in films such as “The Right Stuff,” “Short Cuts,” and others, died on May 8 at the age of 79.

There was no mention of a cause of death.

Ward began acting in the early 1970s after three years in the United States Air Force. Ward was a renaissance guy who worked as a short-order cook, a boxer, and a lumberjack in Alaska. In 1979, he had his first major part in Clint Eastwood’s film “Escape from Alcatraz.”

“The Right Stuff,” starring Fred Ward, was released in 1983.

Ward played real-life Mercury 7 astronaut Virgil “Gus” Grissom in “The Right Stuff.” In “Henry & June,” he played Henry Miller, a chain-smoking, hard-drinking author who travels to Paris in 1931 to write his book “Tropic of Cancer.”

Ward obtained the film rights to “Miami Blues” in 1988, in which he played Hoke Mosely, a veteran Miami cop attempting to apprehend a suave ex-con.

Ward went on to work with Robert Altman in “The Player,” appeared as a gangster in Alan Rudolph’s “Equinox,” and portrayed a TV news presenter in Tim Robbins’ “Bob Roberts.” In the 1993 film “Short Cuts,” he played one of three guys who discovers a body while fishing.

In an emailed statement, Hofmann said, “The unusual thing about Fred Ward was that you never knew where he was going to come up, so unpredictable were his career choices.”

“Summer Catch,” “Sweet Home Alabama,” and “Abandon” are among Ward’s other cinematic credits. Ward has been on television in shows such as “The United States of Tara,” “Grey’s Anatomy,” “Leverage,” “True Detective,” and others.

Ward, who is also an artist, has recently focused part of his creative energy on painting.

His wife of 27 years, Marie-France Ward, and son Django Ward survive him.

Miguel Marquez of CNN contributed to this report.

R.I.P. Fred Ward, From Tremors And The Right Stuff

At the age of 79, actor Fred Ward passed away.

Ward was born in San Diego and lived a variety of lifestyles before breaking into acting in the 1970s. He is most known for his appearances in Tremors, The Right Stuff, and other films. The California native worked as an actress in New York for six months before hitting the road and working as a logger in Alaska, construction worker in California, and even a boxer, where he injured his nose three times.

Continue reading

Ward traveled to Rome, where he dubs Italian films and collaborates with neorealist legend Roberto Rossellini. In 1973, he made his acting debut in the three-part television series The Age Of Medici, directed by Rossellini. Ward returned to the United States and had minor roles in episodes of Quincy M.E. and the Brooke Shields pinball-spoliation cult classic Tilt before making a mark in Don Siegel and Clint Eastwood’s Escape From Alcatraz in 1979.

Ward leaned into his tough-guy character actor groove in the early 1980s, appearing in Walter Hill’s Southern Comfort and assuming the lead in Michael Nesmith’s futuristic, Mad Max-inspired Time rider: The Adventure Of Lyle Swan. His portrayal of Gus Grissom, the second American to travel into space, in The Right Stuff, an Oscar-winning real story about the US space program, raised his prominence.

Ward starred as Remo Williams in Remo Williams: The Adventure Begins in 1985. The Destroyer was based on a pulp book series, and Orion Pictures, who produced the film, planned it to be the first in a series: a “red, white, and blue-collar Bond.” Ward signed for three films, and while Remo Williams has gained a cult following in recent years, it was critically lambasted and bombed at the movie office in the fall of 1985.

The story continues…

Throughout the late 1980s, Ward continued to work in modest roles in cinema and television, and in 1990, she reunited with Right Stuff director Phillip Kaufman for Henry & June, a loose version of Anas Nin’s book of the same name about her connection with Henry and June Miller. The film is notable for being the first to obtain the NC-17 rating. The X rating was infamously co-opted by the adult film industry, and NC-17 was created to separate serious, non-pornographic films with adult themes; it’s also worth noting that several newspapers and television stations refused to advertise films with the X rating. Ward told the Washington Post in 1990, “There’s that sort of stench on it.” “They believe they’re going to Debbie.”

Ward also produced and appeared in the cult neo-noir Miami Blues and played Earl Basset in Ron Underwood’s monster movie favorite, Tremors, in the same year.

Ward spent the rest of the 1990s in big-budget comedies (Naked Gun 33 12: The Final Insult), two made-for-television films (Cast A Deadly Spell, Bob Roberts), and collaborations with Robert Altman (The Player, Short Cuts). Ward spent the rest of his career as one of the most memorable character performers on the big and small screens, with appearances in Joe Dirt, ER, Grey’s Anatomy, and his final performance on HBO’s True Detective.

Any memorial contributions should be donated to the Boston University Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy Center, according to Fred Ward’s wishes.

[kiame-sama]

I have a kinda wholesome request if you’re feeling up to it? How would your oc boys react after having a bad day seeing a cup of freshly brewed coffee plus cookies sitting at his desk? It also has a note that says “Hang in there! :)” from their lovely wife who was peacefully snoozing on the couch! I hope that would cheer up the oc boys!

Walter Woods;

- Walter has no idea what he did in his life to deserve you, but bless you and all you do for him. He can't put into words how much he adores you.

- Walter is a surgeon- one of the top surgeons in the country- and that means he literally holds lives in his hands. This puts some serious stress on the poor man and it isn't like the idea of having lives at stake puts him at any ease. Once he is out of one surgery, he is likely being called to the next. Some surgeries are routine and less than an hour, some take 12 hours or more to complete.

- Any ounce of kindness you give him means the world to him and he is so happy you think of him.

Evan Rothchester;

- Well, ain't you just the sweetest thing in the world? Evan finds it extremely endearing to find you thought of him and he will be joining you on the couch to cuddle and unwind.

- Evan lives with the constant threat of death always in the back of his mind and he can get fairly stressed with everything he has to deal with. The kindness you show him soothes him and truly gives him a genuine joy. He has always wanted a sweet lover to come back to at the end of the day and spend his evenings cuddling affectionately to unwind.

- Evan will be napping with you on the couch and he will be holding you tightly. If you wake up, he will hush you and tell you to go back to sleep while he holds you secure in his grasp.

Carlos Vargas;

- Carlos is ECSTATIC to see you were thinking of him. He will be taking pictures of you while you are asleep and he will coo over your sleeping form before he even touches the treats you give him.

- Odds are you are not alone on the couch and the ever loving house Serval- Mimis- will be lounging with you. Carlos thinks this is precious and will completely melt.

- He won't wake you, but he will sit and enjoy the coffee and cookies you prepared for him as he waits for you to wake up from your nap. The dogs will most likely wake you before he does, or the lions doing their afternoon roaring near sunset. He will greet you and kiss you affectionately when you do wake, thanking you for the kind gesture.

Jackson Locklear;

- He is going to cry happy tears. The kind of support and affection you give him will be enough to make him weep from joy at having you with him and caring so much about him. Truly, Jackson appreciates the gesture more than you will likely ever know.

- Jackson already holds you in very high regard because of you saving him from his loneliness and longing for a place in the world, he will only see the gesture as even more reason to obsess over you. He adores your kindness and he will savor every cookie and every sip of coffee he takes. If you ask, he will say he can taste the love you put into it in every morsel.

Orion Medici;

- Aww, Darling, how sweet of you! Orion is thrilled you took the time to think of him and prepare sweets for him, he finds it quite endearing.

- Orion was likely working on a new novel or editing chapters when his head started to hurt and his eyes began to strain. Stepping away when he is in full swing while writing is difficult for him, but if he knows you are ready and waiting for him to return he will likely be able to pull himself away faster. He thinks it is precious that you showed such thoughtful behavior towards him and took the time to do something nice for him.

Hahne Yamare;

- Wait... These are... For him?

- Hahne is used to being the one to do the nice things, not having nice things done for him. He will genuinely become a flustered mess when he sees the cute note and the prepared snack you placed for him. He thought it wasn't possible for him to adore you any more than he already did, yet here you were.

- Hahne appreciates the ever-living hell out of your sweet behavior and is thrilled that you think of him. He will try to repay the kindness however he can, even if it is something simple that helps you out.

[newstinxahoi]

Sàn thương mại điện tử vật liệu xây dựng Daisan tròn 5 tuổi

Daisan kết nối nhiều thương hiệu lớn trong và ngoài nước, cung cấp sản phẩm chất lượng, giá cả hợp lý cho khách hàng.

Tiền thân là một công ty hoạt động trong ngành xây dựng, Công ty Cổ phần Đại Sàn có chỗ đứng trên thị trường với 15 năm kinh nghiệm. Đơn vị là đối tác của nhiều doanh nghiệp lớn như Tập đoàn Mường Thanh, Kho Bạc Hải Phòng, Bệnh viện Bạch Mai, Bệnh viện Tai Mũi Họng, Bệnh viện Việt Đức,....

Giám đốc công ty, ông Nhâm Phong Đại cho biết luôn mong muốn mở rộng kênh giao thương giữa Việt Nam và quốc tế. Vì vậy, tới 2015, không chỉ dừng lại ở thi công và cung cấp vật liệu xây dựng, doanh nghiệp đã ra mắt sàn thương mại điện tử chuyên về vật liệu xây dựng và công nghiệp Daisan.vn

Trong giai đoạn đầu, Đại Sàn cố gắng kết nối các nhà cung cấp, nhà phân phối uy tín trong nước, cùng góp mặt trên Daisan. Năm 2016 Daisan được đánh giá là thương hiệu quốc tế độc lập do Global GTA và Hội Tri thức Khoa học công nghệ trẻ Việt nam, Viện Nghiên cứu Kinh tế trao tặng. Đến năm 2020, Daisan lọt vào Top 10 Thương hiệu nổi tiếng đất Việt do người tiêu dùng bình chọn.

Phó giám đốc Đại Sàn, bà Nhâm Ngọc nhận giải thưởng Thương hiệu nổi tiếng đất Việt.

Bên cạnh đó, Đại Sàn đã kết nối rất nhiều các đơn vị cung cấp vật liệu xây dựng và công nghiệp từ các nước bạn. Nắm trong tay nhiều hợp đồng có giá trị từ các đơn vị phân phối độc quyền từ Trung Quốc, Thái Lan, Malaysia,... Daisan khẳng định sự độc đáo và đa dạng của các ngành sản phẩm xây dựng.

Một số đơn vị cung cấp vật liệu xây dựng uy tín đồng hành cùng Daisan như: gạch trang trí Medici (Trung Quốc); keo ốp lát đá, keo dán sàn nhựa Orion (Hàn Quốc); máy cắt gạch Rubi (Tây Ban Nha) và các thương hiệu, nhà máy, nhà phân phối nổi tiếng trong nước như: Vitto, Prime, Đồng Tâm, Viglacera, Bosch, Toto, Linax, Ecobig, Mosaic Sài Gòn, Mosaic Thăng Long, DS công nghệ cao Việt Nam.

Tới nay, Sàn thương mại điện tử Daisan.vn đã có hơn 10.000 gian hàng cùng rất nhiều dòng sản phẩm phong phú với mẫu mã đa dạng, phù hợp với mọi khách hàng.

Thành Dương

[charmed-redemption]

"Yes however I am heir to the Medici family."

The young man spoke as he wanted a hand making a bottle of water appear for him to drink. The witch was originally working out and now he could have a drink before returning home.

@on-orions-belt

Cont:

@on-orions-belt

[netmassimo]

Il romanzo "Orion: La Fortezza" ("The Fortress in Orion") di Mike Resnick è stato pubblicato per la prima volta nel 2014. �� il primo romanzo della serie Dead Enders. In Italia è stato pubblicato da Mondadori nel n. 1662 di "Urania" nella traduzione di Fabio Feminò.

Al colonnello Nathan Pretorius vengono affidate le missioni segrete più difficili in territorio nemico e alla fine dell'ultima è morto per alcuni minuti prima che i medici riuscissero a riportarlo in vita. Per questo motivo, non vuole più essere coinvolto in altre missioni per conto della Democrazia ma il generale Cooper trova il modo di convincerlo a condurre una missione importantissima per le sorti della guerra contro la Coalizione Transkei.

La Democrazia è riuscita a far crescere un clone di Michkag, un generale chiave della Coalizione Transkei: riuscire a sostituirlo a quello vero vorrebbe dire permettergli di influenzare i nemici su posizioni più orientate verso un trattato di pace. Michkag è costantemente sotto protezione e Nathan Pretorius sceglie una gruppo di eroi improbabili per infiltrarsi nella fortezza su Orion per procedere alla sostituzione.