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forsythia4 · 5 months

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水的序幕 ; a water's dream.

THE RED CROWNED CRANE & THE PHOENIX: A PROLOGUE.

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Sotomichi.

IN THE MONTH OF KEICHITSU, WHEN THE PEACH BLOSSOMS BEGIN TO BLOOM, with his spirit lamp lit and bamboo pipe elevated, Father is a worn man, lined with wrinkles, strained by time. The scent of opium burns ripe and hauntingly sweet, Father’s lids flutter in euphoria, a kind of blissful apathy. The sun bleeds, and the breath of a thousand buds dance for death. His lips pucker like poppies in full bloom under the first glimpse of the rising sun of the East. Other than opioids and his arrogance, he has only tendered the lips of his art. His hands birth his pride, his art he wears like a tanchōzuru (red-crowned crane) perched like a crown of his ego. Brushstrokes weave intricate dynamics on porcelain, sometimes between a red-crowned crane and a bird of paradise, but if you’re lucky, a perfect lotus moon and the ornate peacock.

“The art flows like water. The porcelain is like a woman. You paint and you draw, you bend and you curve her just as you like. The color she bears winds at your will. The brush is yours, they bleed and you come alive.” Father’s words echo through your solitary midnight loiters outside the kiln, but a crackle of fire spits and you remember convincing yourself you’re tired before your head begins to ache, like it always does when you think of punishment for eavesdropping.

A strike of Father's hand, and you know his art is not yours, his legacy is not yours to carry. Why would a woman need to carry a legacy, except only ones of her children? “Not your burden, my dove. A bud like you needs to grow! A beautiful young lady you reckon she will be, don’t you, Suzume?” Mother nods, just like she always does. Agreeable. Compliant. Docile. Performative. Sometimes, she even dishes out a smile if Mr. Hasegawa comes to visit for tea. Braced posture and bad breath often crouches down, lingering around for a chance to catch a lucky glimpse of a spark, a spurt of swelling beauty within you, for perfection, gifted by the kami in return for Mother’s good graces to the shrines, for in her most perversely wondrous dreams, you are a moon-faced girl with a crescent for lips and porcelain-white skin; you are Benzaiten’s pearl, patron goddess of the fabled geishas residing in the Imperial Capital.

Now, when will you be branded with a price? A tag? Hasegawa’s ninth visit, and you are still a bud unripe. A disgraceful daughter granted by the gods! Sons assume trades and thrones, but daughters will swallow the sun and still assume brooms, buckets, and the ballooning belly of a baby at the end of the day. Father swears he must have been cursed his last life for you to have such ill-fitting features belonging to a woman. A daughter’s betrayal is your skin bruised plum purple, your cheeks stained wet with tears and thrice kissed for daring to be the dishonor and shame of the family.

However, you'd rather be kissed by the truth of the girl you choose to be than the role of a woman you're expected to assume. Your art is your vow. Nimble fingers trace delicate enamel glaze, figuring Nonomura Ninsei’s refined style, and dreams of washing up on Hishu’s wide export market overturn an ache in your belly – that was your dream. Porcelain painting, specialized artistry in characterizing wares mark your identity. Every brushstroke, every glaze, every ember to a flame is a bond to the birth of life breathed into your art. The red-crowned crane spreads her wings and sets the sun ablaze. That was your dream come alive.

North Kohama.

IN THE MONTH OF SHUNBUN, WHEN THE SWALLOWS FLUTTER AND BUILD THEIR NESTS, vengeance paints the horizon with her blood, rot of sin. Mizu remembers the fowler's snare, deliverance at hand. Each hammer and each burst of a swordsmith’s flame is for each swell of the tide that is her rage. Heating. Hammering. Folding steel. The work of a bladesmith: that is her honored duty, sacred.

But as dusk envelopes into midnight, Mizu dances with water. She readies her stance, an obvious, clumsy edge to the flow. “The form of water is sleek, it is agile. It curves and dances with the torrent in one single harmony. Through that bond unified, water snaps and severs the cord, vicious and refined.” Eiji sounds, feeling the rumble of the ground with every swing of the youngster’s movement. “She does not crash. Water begins by swelling within her rage. Unspoken viciousness speaks louder than any inferno stubborn and ill-disciplined. Tame the waters first, let it flow, and then strike.”

Mizu pants, feeling the dirt gather beneath her feet, concentrating the core of her energy, directing her strength to the blade. “You know that better than anyone. It is in your name, Mizu.” Child of the Sea, Tears of Rain, set it free. The bamboo severs into half, the seed of doubt sinks into an empty shell. The deed is done, but the will is not yet finished. A swell of pride soon sweeps the wind of rage away, burying the youth’s heart in a wild, unrelenting restlessness. The minute stream of a feeling akin to achievement throbs against her bones. Back then, when her heart felt anything at all. The innocent yearning to stubbornly hope, a kind of pigheaded faith to innocently dream, gushes like a tide.

Those who dare to dream are fools, Mizu tells herself, but still, she clings onto that childlike wanderlust she once buried within her breast in the sweet space of her memories. The distance between tunnels of blurred echoes calling for her past, calling her name, calling for the wild-hearted. That was Mother’s voice. When all was good, all was plentiful, when her heart was an abundance of a sort of messiness akin to love. When the spring tasted the sweetest, when the breeze swept against her ankles and shaven head, when all was close to home. What did home feel like again? It's slipping away from her dirt-soiled hands, more than stubby fingers could ever count.

Mama. Mother. When will we fawn at the moon and stars again? Together or never, that is my promise to you. If dreams make me a fool, then I'd be one for you to come alive.

Now, when the sky falls with her tears scald hot on Mizu’s cheeks, her heart is patterned like a tortoise’s shell, cracked and fractured. Hardened.

Sotomichi.

IT IS A SUBTLE STRIKE. The lash of lightning: the defiance of sweet, spring skies. Mother's back bled and lined by Father's cruelty; blemish of a fading beauty succumbing to bruises ripe rogue. You love her so dearly, you wish you weren't born the way beaten mandarins were thrown away as scum of the earth. In every wooden plaque perfumed with your desire, every token to the shrine grasped with earnest prayer, you cling onto the hope you'd make Mother happy one day.

You'd be a great artisan. The greatest Tokugawa Japan has ever witnessed. The artisan cracked through the barricades of her confinement as a woman, an utter breakthrough into legacy and history as Japan knew it. The world will know your name. Then, Mother would be happy and Mr. Hasegawa would finally go away.

But dreams are only a sweet, mirage of endless ache, never a guarantee of fruitful worth.

#blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #mizu x you #akemi #bes #taigen #bes mizu #mizu #forsythia4's muse

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intergalxtic · 3 years

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Fic Masterlist

okay so i’ve decided to make a masterlist of ALL my fics/drabbles. will be updated as i post more.

!! make sure to check the tags or notes for any trigger warnings !!

Beetlejuice the Musical:

Stupid Ceramic Plate - You’ll Feel Better in The Morning - Surrealist - It Isn’t Her Fault - We All Have Bad Days - Drunken Thoughts - I’ll Hold Your Hand - Secrets Kept (Highschool!AU)

Mean Girls the Musical:

Caramel Frappuccino

Firebringer:

She’s Her Fire - You’ll Never Be Alone - Listen And Maybe You’ll Learn - Cold Brew at Five O’Clock? - Feel The Heat - Deny The Truth, That’s Easier - Drabble 1 - Drabble 2 - Accidents Happen - The Peacemaker’s Tattoo - Drabble 3 - She Means Everything to me - Who Do You Trust, Who Do You Betray? (crossover with Hatchetfield, SAF, Starship) - Seconds, Minutes, Hours -

Hatchetfield:

Waves, Sand, Stars and the Moon - I Keep Pretending I Don’t Need You - Are You Fast Enough? - Look What Happened - Only You And Me - Drabble 1 - Drabble 2 - You’re So Pretty It Hurts - A Showstopping Number, With Emma Front and Centre - Drabble 3 - Paul’s Office Shenanigans - Drabble 4 - Drabble 5 - Drabble 6 - Drabble 7 - A Helping Hand -

Me And My Dick:

Mid-Term Distractions

Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye:

Interruptions - Bleeding Hearts - Exhilaration - Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye Takes Hatchetfield Prologue (crossover with Hatchetfield) - Drabble 1 -

Spies Are Forever:

Drabble 1 -

Chicago Med:

Gentle -

Law & Order: Special Victims Unit:

Apprehension - Why Not Me? - I’m Starting to Recognise You Again - Crescent-Moon Shaped Dents - Pale - Bloodstream - Make-Believe - Green - Give Me Peace And Sanity - Clarity - When All Those Shadows Almost Killed Your Light - Wild Women Don’t Get The Blues - You’ll Be Alright, No-One Can Hurt You Now - Nothing Changes, Except What Has To - The Skeletons You Hide -

Law & Order: Organised Crime:

Chemically Calm -

Criminal Minds:

Apologies From the Intercom -

FBI:

Familiarity - Not Much I Can Do, Nothing I Can Change - Forgive the Sea, Follow the Tide -

Ride the Cyclone:

Pushing Forward, Pulling Back - Devils Inside Me - A Forgotten Name, Some Lost Refrain - This Dream of Life is Never-Ending - I’ll Love the Littler Things - Jane’s Dolly -

#intergalxtic masterlist #i'm gonna tag all the fandoms for fun <3 #beetlejuice the musical #mean girls the musical #firebringer #hatchetfield #the guy who didn't like musicals #black friday #nightmare time #me and my dick #wayward guide #spies are forever #chicago med #law and order svu #law and order organized crime #criminal minds #fbi cbs #ride the cyclone

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libidomechanica · 3 years

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That it going

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by touched behind, althought in vain, and in her breast deep into

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pale: heavn scarce could hardest science- fiction, and looking for,

which the moon, who in

the and fight wet was with buds, and his freeze Such odour thorn, his dead! snatchd his late to keep good or ill: Prayrs; me out each

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another, quite a boar, that

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on thy prides beautiful thats rather wonted least nor not trust instead, women, every shadow makes you, let the

wisp that she is dying as from the bee: and are given to govern d—n. And mild Muse with chasing, her pleasure, both in a crescent moon; here

people do, suffer tyrants and you stood up annals, revenge—especially to woo her, Im afraid; but whet my faints I see how suddenly translates their hospital; at first and had a rustic, woodland song, Cyril, however, mine. ”D up an ugly night behind I will in thine own true sublime: lady Fitz-Plantage on pranks of way we talking of your world forget me can you grew light before shore. Things there. Which purchased by and grief; all night, and fight be sin most difficult in wonderd in vain. With my hero; no more than they hie the minds contagious, just as every sly—she hath ceasd their station on your order.

Imprisond in them years, too, be bless my youths rays, to prologue is making. And so i can livering jest.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #186 texts

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missameliep · 4 years

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The Pursuit of Happiness - Chapter Twenty One: The Greatest Adventure of All

Book: Desire & Decorum (AU) Word count: ~4.600 Pairing: Prince Hamid x MC (Elizabeth Thompson)

Notes: * English is not my native language and if there are mistakes, typos, etc, let me know. I will appreciate the feedback. *Characters belong to PixelBerry and I am just borrowing them. Even Hamid. He’s not mine. * There will be a small prologue after this part, and then the series is over. * Thanks to @princess-geek who beta read this chapter and its many many versions until the final one.

The sun rose over the Bailiwick of Guernsey casting its light over Saint Peter Port and painting the dark waters blue once again. Tomorrow, in one of the ships swaying with the high tide, Lady Elizabeth and Prince Hamid shall leave the island, the little piece of paradise where they found much more than refuge.

Today, however, they could still enjoy themselves and the scenery both became rapidly accustomed with.

At the Governor’s house, through a small gap between the curtains, the sunrays crept their way into the Prince’s designated chambers, where the lovers’ bodies lie together on the bed, limbs entangled, and hairs dishevelled.

The woman's eyes fluttered open and she contemplated for a few moments the relaxed face of her husband in front of her. She stretched her whole body and, unlike the first morning waking beside him, didn’t hesitate. Her fingers caressed the velvet like skin of his bronze cheek and raked his growing beard. A thumb outlined his parted lips. A feather-like caress that made the corners of his mouth twist, before she claimed it with gentleness.

“Are you truly here, my love?” he asked softly against her lips, eyelids still closed, “Or does my mind deceit me with another dream of the most alluring woman my eyes ever contemplated?”

“I am here, my Prince, just as I was in your arms yesterday and as I shall be tomorrow, God willing,” she whispered and pressed a gentle kiss to each of his lids.

“Alhamdulillah! Then I may open my eyes, confident you won’t vanish,” he exclaimed, pulling her to his embrace.

Languid kisses matching the lassitude that usually follows their nocturnal activities grew into ardent ones. His arms held her tighter, pulling her flat to his chest, and his tongue joined her to perform a dance both couldn’t have enough, savouring the closeness they shall never be denied again.

One of his hands roamed her body, caressing breasts, belly and thighs, and rested on the roundness of her derriere. Her fingers dug small crescents on his back, and a soft moan escaped his mouth.

They lingered in each other’s arms reluctant to rise from the bed.

“My fingers were made to undress you, my love…” Hamid protested as he did in the previous morning, while dallying with the fastening of her corset.

“I shall be willing to allow them to satisfy their intended creation once we fulfill our duties to our hosts,” she said, smiling shyly over her shoulder, “...and you indulge me with a last day at the beach.”

“Nothing could please me more, my love, than indulge you with a day at the beach,” he replied peppering her shoulders with kisses. “However, it shall be just one of the many more expected in our future. Remember that, my Elizabeth.”

*****

The morning of their last day at Guernsey was cloudless and pleasant, just the gentlest breeze blowing from the sea. The sunlight made the silk of Hamid’s blue kaftan glow brighter as the couple walked side by side at the deserted beach.

Elizabeth seemed delighted with the crunching sound of the powdery white sand after each of their steps, and Hamid with his wife’s beauty. His eyes were seduced by the rosy hue on her cheeks and the way the sunbeams illuminated her braided hair, revealing golden streaks amongst a cascade of brown falling down her left shoulder.

When she perceived his stares, the corners of her lips curled up. With the cream lacy parasol in hand, she playfully hid from Hamid’s gaze behind it. Then, anytime she uncovered her face, casting coquettish looks and blowing kisses at him, he’d offer pleased grins in retribution.

Being in his company filled Elizabeth’s heart with joy and a kind of contentment that would seem unattainable a week earlier.

The occasional scream of a seagull would interrupt the jovial teasing between the lovers and draw their eyes to the sky.

Observing her, he mulled over the past months and how his life was full of happiness, hope and love as never experienced or expected. An answer to his father's prayers, the woman by his side waltzed into his life, beheld what’s been hidden beneath his polite mask for so long and changed him profoundly, despite never understanding it entirely.

“We’ve come a long way…”

Whipping her head back, she narrowed her eyes, then halted.

“Yes, we did. I don’t even see Castle Cornet from here. Should we return, my Prince?”

“Our promenade took us very far, indeed,” he said looking at the same direction, “However, I was referring to these past months. We’ve come a long way since the first time we met, my love.”

“We most certainly did. We have crossed a long and winding road to come to this point…” she replied with a pleased smile, locking eyes with his.

“Do you ever wonder what would have happened if things turned out differently?”

“What do you mean?” She squinted her eyes and closed the distance, observing his enigmatic expression.

“I wonder sometimes… What would have become of us if instead of London, I was assigned to Peking, for instance? Where do you think we both would be?”

Pondering over his words for a moment, she looked away and took a deep breath. When her eyes returned to his face, she smiled and placed her free hand over his broad chest. The pounds that lull her to sleep beneath her palm.

“I don’t know where... But I’m certain we’d be together. Perhaps it would take us a little longer… Perhaps I’d have to become a pirate at some point to allow our meeting… But in the end, we would be together just like we are now.”

Hamid raised an eyebrow at her, and asked, “Would you venture the seas if it meant you’d find me?”

“If it led me to my happiness... I’d face storms and sea monsters.” She giggled and held his gaze. “You doubt my will?”

“Absolutely not. If the most mischievous woman in the whole England sets her heart on doing anything at all, I am certain she shall succeed. You, my love, would have been the most intrepid pirate to ever sail the seven seas!” He winkled and took her hands to his lips, looking her intensely. “And the most alluring!”

“Thank you!” she said lowering her gaze demurely, and Hamid placed lingering kisses on the back of her hand, wrist and up her arm. Elizabeth didn’t fight the unladylike fit of giggles that erupted from her chest or her husband’s indecorous caresses, enjoying the liberty of being far away from the village.

“If I may ask,” she uttered quietly, when he placed her hand on the side of his face, after a last kiss, “why would you wonder about that? Our pairing is rather unlikely just as it is, don’t you think? I imagine what are the odds of a seamstress’ daughter from a tiny English village and an adventurous Prince from the distant Ottoman Empire meeting and falling in love in London?”

“I cannot even calculate those odds...”

“If we consider the events prior to our meeting: mama writing father after many years, my arrival at Edgewater, myself joining the Season – Not to mention Countess Henrietta’s schemes caused us to run into each other quite literally –”

“I should have thanked her immensely for doing so,” he interrupted and caressed Elizabeth’s face, the back of his fingers stroking her cheek.

“God or Providence had already decided on our fortunate encounter and favoured us, my Prince. I don’t think any amount of distance could have separated us.”

“Some things are simply fated, I suppose. I shouldn’t question Allah’s plans if they led me to this kind of joy,” he said softly, and her adoring gaze locked with his.

In an instant, he dips his head and his lips found hers in a passionate kiss, his right hand cupping her face and his left arm on her waist bringing her closer.

Enraptured she let the parasol fall and both her hands raised to meet at the back of his neck.

With their foreheads touching, his lips hovering over hers, he said softly, “Once upon a time, I would have hated the thought of having only one person to talk to and adventure with. How tiresome it’d become. But with you, everything is different. The whole world brightens because of your presence, my love. I’m never wanting for excitement or adventure.”

“You praise me excessively...” she said blushing.

“You deserve my entire adoration. Every day I desire to become a better man because of you.”

“When we met you were already an extraordinary man with a kind heart,” she said softly and rested her hand on his cheek. “I acknowledged it since our first encounter.”

“Believe it or not, but from that very first time we rode together on that most fortunate day, I was certain you were the companion I lacked in life. I've anticipated this journey in my dreams.”

“Impossible! From that first day?” she gaped.

“I speak the truth. Ever since that fortuitous day, my mind envisioned a future of adventure with you by my side. This idea warmed my heart anytime I hoped against hope you could fall in love with me…”

“Oh, Hamid! If only you knew...” she whispered and his fingers trailed down her face, caressing her cheeks.

“Later, when I learned our hearts were already united, whenever we were apart, I fantasized about it, even when it seemed we would never be reunited…”

“My Hamid,” his name dripped from her tongue sweeter than honey and she closed the distance to kiss him with fervour. His lips trailed down her jaw to her neck, and she inhaled deeply. “Most fortunate I am for your unfaltering hope,” she breathed her words.

“You are worthy waiting and fighting for. I’d launch a thousand ships and go to war for you,” he said and kissed her forehead.

“...If I may be so bold and confess, I too for many days after we met, cradled the reverie of going on an adventure with you. Though at the time, it seemed it would be nothing but a puerile dream…”

Smiling against her lips, he claimed her mouth for a gentle and lingering kiss. Hamid’s heart was full of bliss and his mouth unusually emptied of words. Taking her hand in his, he invited her to sit by his side on the sand, prompting the memory of a night under the stars to flash before their eyes.

A gentle breeze carried the salty spray and untidied their hairs.

Eyes fixed at the sea, Elizabeth rested her head on his shoulder, mind travelling to unseen lands; meanwhile, his arm snaked around her waist, seizing the solitude and bringing her indecorously closer to him.

“Have you ever been to Saint-Malo, Hamid?”

“I haven’t. But I was told it’s an extraordinary place! A city with the tallest houses you’ve ever seen enclosed by high stone walls that are touched by emerald waters. Home of pirates and numerous tales. Every fibre of my being is filled with excitement to visit such a place. If only we had enough time… I should enjoy exploring every bit with you.”

“It sounds delightful,” she said with a smile, “I beg of you to tell me more about the travel, my love.”

“Let me see… Once we leave France until the mouth of the Dardanelles, we shall spend over a fortnight at sea... Twenty days, I suppose. But this I already told you, no?”

“You did.”

“If I’m not mistaken there shall be only one, perhaps two stops on the way. Malta, possibly. Or Sicily. Precious time to spend on dry land, to rest, feed and adventure a tad as well.” He winked, and she smiled.

“Adventuring with you shall be my utmost pleasure.”

Smiling, he kissed the top of her head. “Mine as well.”

“Tell me more,” she begged.

“What else do you wish to know, habibti? Your curiosity seems insatiable today...” He smiled softly and his thumb caressed her knuckles. “Should I retell my plans to keep you entertained during our journey?” Hamid asked with a suggestive tone, a mischievous glint on his eyes.

Lowering her eyes demurely, Elizabeth susurrated her reply, with blushed cheeks, “I prefer you share them later in the privacy of our chambers… Now I believe you can satiate my curiosity with other stimulating aspects of our travel…”

Hamid acquiesced with a wide grin and took her hand in his.

“Inshallah, we shall make an enjoyable and safe trip until the Mediterranean and across the Aegean and Marmara Seas. When your eyes finally contemplate all the splendours of Constantinople, your heart shall skip a beat at the sight of Ayasofya Mosque at the top of the mount and all the minarets pointing to the heavens…”

The man’s eyes sparkled while he described the city, and his hands moved with the same excitement of his tone. The sleeves of his kaftan dancing in the wind. The sight brought a smile to Elizabeth’s lips and prompted her mind to envision every place depicted with such marvellous details.

“I cannot wait to embark on this journey with you and have my breath taken away by this whole unexplored world. And to learn more about you too, my love.”

“Your excitement is splendid. However, I must warn you that the journey won't always be so pleasant as our short and delightful sail through the Channel. Storms might wait for us. Both literally and metaphorically.”

“I am grateful for your warnings.” She kissed his cheek, her lips lingering on his skin and he patted her knee. “Your family, will they be at the Palace?”

“I penned my father with words of my return before leaving London. I shall only hope to meet them there…” he sighed, “But after so many years away, I can only hope…” his voice lowered, and his eyes wistfully contemplated the sea.

Sensing his uneasiness, Elizabeth turned around facing him and picked another topic.

“Tell me more about Constantinople, please. How is this palace we shall be staying?”

“It's grandiose!” He exclaimed and his hands again moved with enthusiasm. “An architecture so exquisite that rends one speechless. The splendid view of the blue sea is breath-taking. Inside it’s magnificent. Walls and ceilings adorned with tiles forming beautiful and intricate patterns, so many delicate forms that your eyes would tire before beholding it all.”

“It sounds extraordinary!”

“It is, habibti. Topkapi is as full of colour and life, as it is of formalities and strict protocols.” He paused and his expression became contemplative. “You shall find numerous things as exotic and shocking as others have before you, and you’ll be reminded of how foreign and unaccustomed with our manners you are at every moment.”

Elizabeth’s gaze accompanying the flight of a seagull, missed the way his shoulders tensed and the slight crease on his forehead, that deepened anytime he pondered about the subject.

“I shall keep my eyes and mind open to experience it all with as little prejudice as possible. With you as my guide, I confide I shall succeed,” she said with a smile, her head returning to his shoulder.

“Your optimism is remarkable, my love, and I wouldn’t expect less from you. However, I must warn you once more, as I did back in London, it shall not be a simple task. There you shall be as foreign as I was to the British.” His tone became graver, and his hands reposed on his thighs.

“I appreciate the warning and I shall keep that in mind. The language barrier really disturbs me, as I told you before, especially during the times we must remain separated,” she said fidgeting with her rings.

“The unknown languages will be troublesome, even with the interpreter you shall be given. But it shan’t be the most challenging part...”

“Tell me, if you may, what can be more difficult than not understanding anything when being addressed?” she inquired frowning at the sight of his unsmiling lips.

“Many other things shall be difficult to comprehend. Power and greatness more often than desired walk hand in hand with violence, my Elizabeth.”

“I suppose my knowledge of History is not as vast as yours, but living amongst the gentry made me experience the terrible things perpetrated to secure power... The ugliness lies behind polite manners, as I have beholden.”

“True. Yet this sort of power is not something you have encountered before. Bear in mind that for centuries Topkapi’s walls have witnessed many births and even more deaths and grievance. The same place people rejoice with dance and music, is a place of sorrow, torment and captivity; the halls where laughter echoes, have also been covered with tears and blood.”

Hamid's voice sounded flat and distant from the cheerful tone she grew familiar with. A severe expression she's never seen. Brows furrowed, an enigmatic gaze fixed on her face for a long moment. His lips pressed in the thinnest line, as if imprisoning secrets that wished to roam free from his tongue otherwise.

Her mouth opened but before emitting any sound, Hamid’s spoke again. “This whole description, you may think, is not very different from many English palaces and their grim history. The only difference is…” his voice was strangled before trailing off, his eyes lost at the sea.

“What is the difference from the English palaces, Hamid?”

He sighed, and his eyes remained on the coming and going of the waves.

“Topkapi will amaze you with its beauty. The gold disguises most of the ugliness, you may even fail to notice it at all, if you are fortunate enough...”

“Does presenting yourself to your Sultan is the cause of your distress?”

“It’s better not to trouble you with those matters, my love.” The corners of his lips twitched, and a faint smile was offered to her.

“Don’t tease me like that, my Prince, have you no compassion on my nerves? If you don’t tell me what it is, my imagination shall create the most terrifying scenarios!”

His thumbs caressed the back of her hand, and he stared at her for a moment, his eyes brimming with tenderness. Being summoned from his mandatory exile for the first time in years puzzled him. Duke Richards’ menaces might be only empty words stirred by the jealousy of a vain man. However, he shall not be certain about that for at least another twenty days. The diplomat knows failing his assignment is not an option, he’s well-aware of the kind of punishment that follows failure and disobedience.

“It’s unwise to burden you with suppositions…”

Breathing deeply and summoning courage, the lady cleared her throat. “During the Season men would whisper stories about your land filled with brutality and barbaric acts. Such as a tale of a man beheaded for not serving the Sultan the right kind of food,” she stated in a low and hesitant tone, “Does that sort of thing frighten you? I have not forgotten that conversation at the Duke’s study back in London... Should we even go there, Hamid?”

“The stories you’ve heard might be painted with exaggerations, and as an ambassador it's not my place to pass judgment on any order or deeds of our Sultans,” he paused, and his gaze found hers. “However, regardless of what the future reserves, I shall protect you. Rest assured I shan’t fail you, my love. Do you trust me?”

“I trust you. And I shall never leave your side.”

A slow smile curled his lips, and his thumb caressed her hand. “It pleases me to her that, but…” he paused and looked away. “I fear that… there might be many unpleasant parts of my life and my work that once are revealed might change the way... the way you look at me, my Elizabeth.”

“Nothing in this world could change my love or the way I see you.” She cupped his jaw, then kissed his cheeks and his forehead with gentleness. “Don’t you ever forget that, Hamid.”

“I promise to tell you all my concerns. Until the very last one. But for now, habibti, I wish to spare both of us this grim and simply enjoy our last day at this paradise. Would you indulge me?”

His hand caressed one of hers, still resting against his cheek.

“If you’re willing to keep your promise…”

“To this day have I broken any of my promises?” he asked softly, looking her in the eye, the back of his fingers brushing her cheek.

“You haven’t, my husband.”

“Then, trust me when I say it: be patient and I will tell you all you must know.” A nod and a small smile were offered to him. “But at this moment, I wish to offer you a gift, my Elizabeth,” he said rising to his feet.

“A gift?” she echoed.

Unfastening a few buttons of his kaftan, he pulled it over his head and let it fall. Mouth hanging open, Elizabeth stared perplexed the blue silk slowly swaying with the wind until it touched the sand, followed by the long white shirt he had underneath.

The shocking state of undress rendered her speechless.

Grinning at her, Hamid tugged at each of his boots and dropped them. Finally, his trousers joined the pile of discarded clothes.

“What in God’s name are you doing, Hamid?” she shrieked her question at last.

A mischievous smile was the only answer she got, before he ran towards the water laughing.

“Hamid!” Elizabeth cried. Standing up, she watched him plunge into the sea.

Heartbeats louder than the waves crashing at the shore, she stared at the water. Until he emerged a few moments later soaked in saltwater and glistening under the sun, she held her breath.

One of Hamid’s hand stroked his dark hair, pulling it back. Hopping over small waves he returned to dry land. A wide grin on his lips and an absolute lack of elegance that made nearly impossible for Elizabeth to conserve her angry expression.

“You scared me!” She slapped his arm with a palm.

“Ouch!” He flinched.

“You really scared me!” The other palm followed the first with a loud smack on his chest. “For a moment I thought you might've drowned.”

“I am sorry, my love. Worrying you wasn't my intention...” His moist hand encircled her wrist and turned her palm upwards. “I wish I had a token for you to remember us and this place.”

Her eyes lowered to her hand and to the three small seashells he had deposited there.

“Hence this offer: a souvenir from Guernsey and from the happiness we enjoyed here. One for each day we've been married.” He bowed and curled her fingers around the shells and kissed her knuckles. Water dripping from his face and hair dotting her arm with sparkling droplets.

Elizabeth sighed deeply and her expression softened.

“I thank you for the gift, even though I am certain that even if I live to a hundred years old, I shall never forget these days,” she said, looking him through her lashes.

*****

For the last time, Elizabeth sat with the ladies at the drawing room of the Governor’s House. Those would be her last moments amongst British gentry for God knows how long, and a farewell to the lifestyle she’s been experiencing these past months.

The lady of the house, Countess Catherine at the centre of the green velvet settee, a friend at each of her sides, took her needle and resumed working on the embroidery of a small muslin gown for her youngest daughter.

Elizabeth sitting at another settee listened the animated conversations of the six women, while embroidering one of Hamid’s handkerchiefs. The scene reminded her of the many mornings she joined the sewing circle at Edgewater, and she tried to swallow a lump at her throat.

Suddenly, the sound of a familiar laugh echoing from the gardens caught Elizabeth's ears. She laid her work at the table and strolled to the window. Grinning, her husband ran in the garden amongst the elderly children of their hosts. The silks of his kaftan flowing with each large stride. Cackles freely escaping his mouth when he tagged one of the boys. At that moment, Hamid was just the tallest boy playing carefree and the sight caused the corners of her lips to turn up.

The click-clacking of shoes brought someone to her side, and she recognized the silhouette of Countess Catherine.

“The infants absolutely adore His Highness, lady Elizabeth.”

“And he adores playing with them, my lady.”

“Sidney inquired if both of you would stay with us permanently,” the woman smiled and casted a sideways glance at her, “The stories about distant lands fascinate him.”

“If only we could...” she sighed. “I shall dream about returning here someday…”

“You shall be welcomed, if you ever do come back.”

“I thank you, my lady.”

Once he was tagged, Hamid mockingly fell to the ground, staging a dramatic death, which drew heartfelt guffaws from the children, who joined him on the grass. The man’s body contorted while small hands tickled his sides. Flushed face and dishevelled hair, he sat up and placed his hands on his knees. Feeling being observed, his gaze met the women’s and he waved. Elizabeth returned the gesture grinning.

“His Highness shall be a good father.”

Elizabeth’s heart warmed with the idea.

“When God bless us with children, I’m positive he shall be.”

In silence they observed when the game resumed in the garden. The kids running and hiding this time, once the Prince covered his eyes.

“You must be excited to embark on such an adventure.”

“I am thrilled and fearful at the same time, I must confess.”

“It would be unnatural if you weren’t... Leaving everything behind and departing to a faraway land...” The older woman paused and looked the lady of Edgewater in the eye. “However, I might confess I envy you. Your eyes shall contemplate mysteries and secrets only few Englishwomen have before... I beg of you to pen me and lend me your eyes.”

“It’d be my pleasure, my lady,” she uttered the polite reply expected, though she’s not positive such a thing shall even possible.

*****

Sails dancing with the wind that blew through their hairs. Loud commanding voices erupting on the deck from time to time, while the boat slowly set its course to France in order to cross the six leagues that separate the island from Saint-Malo, and Elizabeth couldn’t be more excited.

From the railings, Elizabeth observed Castle Cornet and Saint Peter Port’s disappearing in the distance. The mist covering the village, as it was something from a dream. Guernsey’s turquoise waters not quite as blue without the sun high in the sky, but splendid still.

“What an extraordinary beauty!”

“Absolutely extraordinary,” Hamid breathed the words close to her ear.

Peeking at him over her shoulder, she noticed his gaze lowered and focused on her décolletage, and she blushed.

“I was referring to the island, my husband,” she said poking his chest with the tip of her fan, and he chuckled.

“I’m afraid your presence obfuscates the entire world and I’m incapable of seeing anything other than you,” he whispered, snaking an arm around her waist, and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

When he pulled away, the fan covered her face and the persistent redness of her cheeks.

“I shall never tire of making you blush, habibit,” he said brushing the warm apples of her face with the back of his fingers.

Elizabeth’s eyes raised and locked with his, a slow smile curling her lips and they remained silent for many breaths.

“A penny for your thoughts,” he spoke first, breaking the silence.

“I wondered… It seems I’m living a dream embarking in such an adventure with the most alluring man my eyes have ever contemplated.”

“You are turning into a flatterer, aren’t you, my lady?”

Her giggles were concealed by the fan. “I might be learning it from you, my husband.”

Hamid’s eyes inspected their surrounds and he leaned forward. One arm at each of her sides, his hands rested at the railings and his long nose brushed against her face and down her neck as he breathed her in.

Encircled by his body, Elizabeth inhaled deeply and covered his hands with hers. While her fingers caressed his skin, her gaze fixed at the ring on her left hand, the ultimate symbol of their love, and her heart leaped with joy.

Hamid took her left hand in his, as if he could hear her thoughts, and contemplated the ring too, before kissing it.

“Our story has been quite an adventure so far, no?”

“It certainly has... Our lives are so closely entwined. I cannot envision a future without you,” she said softly.

“We are fortunate that you don’t have to... You are my home. We shall always be together. For as long as I shall breathe.”

“I long to grow old with you, Hamid, share all my joys and for you to father my children...”

“That shall be the greatest adventure of all...” he susurrated and kissed her cheek. “My Elizabeth! I’m blessed beyond imagination to hold my life in the circle of my arms.” Another kiss on her cheek and he observed her expression for a moment. “I trust you are not worried anymore, no?”

“The unknown always causes me worries, Hamid... That’s how I am. But I have faith we shall stand tall and survive any trials and tribulations that might lie ahead of us.”

“Inshallah!”

The man kissed her temple and with his arms around her, the world seems such a perfect place.

================= Notes:

Alhamdulillah – an Arabic expression that can be translated as thank God or all praise is due to Allah. Habibti – Arabic word meaning “my beloved”. Topkapi Palace – The Palace is located in Istanbul (Constantinople) and served as the home of the Ottoman sultans and their court until the middle of the 19th century. Ayasofya Mosque – is the Turkish name of Hagia Sophia in Istanbul; originally a church, it was a mosque in the early 19th century. Inshallah – Arabic expression that means “if Allah wills it” or “God willing”.

#desire and decorum #playchoices #choices fanfiction #Prince Hamid #prince hamid x mc

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not-majestic-bluenicorn · 3 years

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Thanks to @queen-of-himbos and @flurrys-creativity for tagging me! <3

First creation and most recent creation of 2020: I believe the first thing I posted this year was the prologue and first chapter to Versus! Wow it’s really been a long year. The newest work is today’s teaser for my upcoming series, Crescent.

One of my favorite creations from 2020: It’s really hard to choose! But if I have to, I would say that Spirits of the Sea is definitely one of the best things I’ve written this year. I feel like it’s some how the most sincere work I’ve ever written. It makes me emotional just to remember it.

A creation you’re really proud of: This would definitely be Bad Decisions. It was something really new for me, and I had a lot of fun planning it and writing it. I loved how it came out and I loved the reaction it brought on people.

A creation that took you forever: Chasing Cars, the sequel to Bad Decisions, took forever to write and post ‘cause I was afraid of not living up to the first part. An honorable mention is my SVT family AU, Unconventional, which genuinely took so. much. time.

A creation from 2020 that received the most notes: There are two that had 31 one notes. On one side is Behind the Scenes, which a Wow x Jun (A.C.E) smut one shot. On the other side is Don’t Go, a short ATEEZ request about Mingi having nightmares.

A creation you think deserved more notes: Definitely The Practice Room Ghost. It was my first time writing horror and I personally think I did so well, it deserves better. But also Unconventional overall deserves better.

A new fandom you joined and a creation you made for it: I joined the Luvity fandom but I still haven’t written for Cravity ;A;

A creation you made that breaks your heart: Chapter 21 of Versus *wiggles eyebrows*

A “simple” creation that you really love: Say It Again, it’s a short one-shot I wrote for NoRenMin in the Ink Prints AU that happens after Finding the Way Back Home and it makes me really happy.

A creation that was inspired by another one: Technically speaking, my new series Crescent is inspired by @atiny-piratequeen‘s Against the Tide, although they’re very different XD

A favorite creation created by someone else: I haven’t been reading much this year, unfortunately, but you should definitely check Against the Tide mentioned before, Tales from the Tablespoon Universe and Some Birds are not Meant to be Caged by @georgieporgiepuddininpie

some of your favorite content creators from the year: @georgieporgiepuddininpie @atiny-piratequeen @queen-of-himbos @jacksons-goddess-gaia @gettin-a-lil-hanse and there’s more but my memory sucks I’m so sorry

and for good measure, a couple more creations of yours that you love: Chicken Nuggets, I’m not dumb!, All Your Love Is Sunlight, Yellow Season, Spider Webs Always Face North and The Meaning of Freedom

tagging: those mentioned before and whoever sees this that wants to do it, you can just say I tagged you <3

#tag game #this was fun

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jenonojaem · 5 years

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To My Crush, With All My Heart. Part One.

(A/N) I feel like this is very long overdue and I apologise for not updating soon after the prologue. I hope this is up to everyone’s expectations! As I mentioned previously, this is based off an instagram edit I saw and gathered inspiration from! I’ve checked most parts but there still may be spelling errors/mistakes so apologies in advance for that! That’s all I have to say really! x

Genre: Fluff! Fluff! Fluff! Kinda cute & light hearted too!

Members included: Jeno, Donghyuck & Mark (they’ll all be introduced at one point muah!) This part mostly focuses on Jeno!

Word count: 2603

Warnings: there’s none, lovelies!

Dear Jeno,

It’s been two weeks since I watched you in a basketball game for the first time. Admittedly, I know nothing about sports nor am I athletic enough to even attempt anything that you can do. You’re an exceptional player and your team is so lucky to have you. At first I thought you were like any other sports team caption, full of yourself and no regards to how others around you feel.

But you aren’t like that, are you? You’re sweet, selfless, respectful and all around a decent human being who people overlook because of your god like face. That damned face. Everything about you, from the way you act to the way you look, screams perfection. From the fullness of your hair to the way you always greet everyone you bump into.

Perhaps you only act this way because of how many eyes are on you all the time. That’s what I try and tell myself anyway. We’ve only had a few brief encounters but each time you’ve been so gentle and polite. You’ve even offered your seat to me on the bus because I was struggling to keep my balance down all those twists and turns.

Not to mention you always smile at me. That beautiful, uplifting smile that I see on your face so often. The way your eyes smile with you is truly a breathtaking sight. They turn into what I can only describe as moon crescents that light up the world around them.

You-

“How much have you read?” my voice is shaky as I stand over Lee Jeno, captain of the basketball team, who just happens to be reading my love letter that somehow managed to get out. There’s no readable expression on his face, he looks dumbfounded, surprised. Despite wanting to run away and nearly doing so, I knew it was only right to come back and handle the problem head on. If there even was a problem.

Donghyuck sits beside him in silence, holding his own letter that he thankfully hasn’t touched. My heart aches as I realise that every intense feeling I’ve ever had for Jeno is now very much real in his head. That boy now knows everything that I felt for him and thought about him “Not much.” he finally replies, his tone soft and surprisingly calm. Gently, he slips the letter back into the envelope and hands it back to me “You have a crush on me?”

“No!” I deny, my voice filling the still empty cafe that will no doubt come alive at the wrong moment “Not now. I did.” with trembling hands, I slip the letter back into my bag and face Hyuck who looks like he’s trying to process this whole situation “Can I have that back too?” to my surprise he shakes his head and I watch as his grasp tightens around the note.

“I’d like to read it.” he admits, causing my whole body to break out in a cold sweat “Is it similar to Jeno’s?” with a soft sigh, I put my head down and nod slowly. Why would he want to read it? Is this a joke to him? Hyuck has always been the class clown, making everyone break out in a ferocious belly laugh due to his sarcastic remarks towards the teachers. That was one of the many reasons I adored him for weeks on end.

Jeno stands up, slinging his navy blue ruck sack over his shoulder and giving me a timid smile “Can we talk about this?” no, no we cannot. I try to concentrate on his question but soon notice that Hyuck is carefully peeling his letter open. Oh god. Now that I know that at least two out of seven boys have read their letter the feeling of being light headed soon hits back with force.

“I feel sick.” I mumble, not knowing that Jeno had caught onto what I said.

“Do you need to sit down? Some water?” his hand grabs a hold of arm, supporting me gently as though he can see that I’m moments away from passing out “This whole thing isn’t as bad as you probably think it is. I know you panic a lot, but really there’s no need.”

My eyes flicker between the two boys in front of me, both of their faces full of worry and concern “You don’t understand,” I begin, gripping onto my bag so tight my knuckles turn white “you aren’t the only two who I wrote letters for.” Hyuck’s eyes widen and I can see that the whole thing has finally now hit him.

“Damn, (Y/N), you a player-” Hyuck’s lighthearted comment is cut off by Jeno snapping at him.

“Not the time.” Jeno’s hand moves down my arm to hold my wrist, rubbing his thumb reassuringly around in circles “Who else got a letter? I’ll help you find them and get them back. But then can we talk?” why does he want to talk so badly? Oh my god-

In my head, I begin to recall the five other boys who have probably had a good laugh at my letter by now “Mark Lee, Huang Renjun, Na Jaemin, Zhong Chenle and Park Jisung.” Jeno slowly nods his head and looks over at Hyuck who’s now putting my letter down instead of choosing to read it at this particular moment. But there’s a cheeky glint in his eye that tells me I won’t be getting that letter back unread any time soon.

“They all have a lecture this morning, right? We we’re split into groups for it, they’re all group one.” Hyuck shrugged a little and got up from the table, unlocking his phone and scrolling quickly through what I can only assume is a list of groups. Finally he nods and looks at me with a sweet smile that should’ve calmed me like it usually does. However, the only thing I can think about is the fact they’re all going to be bored in that lecture and therefore decide to read that mysterious letter they were given this morning. And, hey, that’s my fight or flight triggered again-

. . .

The crowd for the lecture is huge and I can tell Jeno is desperately trying to find the five boys I mentioned who also got a letter. Hyuck had said goodbye to us both whilst leaving the cafe, saying he was going to be late for his one to one vocal lesson with Brianna. Everyone knew he had a wonderful voice but whenever he was asked to sing he’d always turn it down or try to change the subject.

I’d be lying if I said Jeno didn’t resemble a meerkat currently, his head turning in all directors as he balances perfectly on his tip toes. As if he wasn’t tall enough already. Just when I’m finally not anxious about this whole ordeal, I feel a hand on my shoulder that gently turns me to face them. Mark Lee. Jeno’s finally caught on to who it is and stops observing the sweaty group of teenage students for a moment. Both boys make eye contact for a brief second. I’ve noticed boys who aren’t really friends do that a lot. They stare each other down as though they’re trying to gain dominance over the other one. Especially when a girl’s around.

“Do you have a letter?” Jeno finally asks, looking down at Mark’s hands to see the only thing he’s holding is his phone with a watermelon case decorating it. Mark looks at me and nods, his expression somewhat embarrassed and/or sheepish.

“I actually want to speak to you about that.” he takes off his round, Harry Potter-esque glasses and pushes them onto the top of his head. His brown hair is pushed back off of his face and now I can clearly see his beautiful brown eyes that look as though they hold a whole universe in them “I haven’t read it yet because I literally just got it from Renjun. I was going to read it in the lecture but I was wondering what it was about? It’s your handwriting, right?” wait, why does Renjun have my letters?

Jeno’s obviously thinking the same thing as he furrows his brows and asks “Renjun gave it to you?” but then I remember Hyuck saying to Jeno that he got the letters from Renjun too. Before Mark can answer the question, the lecturer begins calling in the first load of students and I feel myself being pushed and barged past by the crowd. Stumbling slightly, my balance is regained by a strong arm wrapping tightly around my waist and pulling me out of the rush.

Jeno pushes against the tide and finally we’re able to breathe with the last few girls making their way into the hall “I didn’t tell Mark that I don’t want him reading it.” I sigh and look down at my shoes, feeling my first surge of wanting to run away from this whole issue “He won’t make fun of me, will I?”

There’s a short silence before he replies “I don’t think he’s the type to. Neither is Hyuck so don’t worry about him either.” he walks towards an empty bench where he takes off his bag and basketball hoodie. Underneath he’s wearing a plain white shirt that compliment his ripped jeans nicely. Stop checking him out, (Y/N).

“I’ve never wanted to yeet so much in my life.” I admit, aloud. Causing a small chuckle to come from Jeno as he opens his bottle of ludcozade. Earlier I had made him laugh in the cafe for a very similar reason-

It was a simpler time back then.

“I would yeet about twenty times a day if that were an option.” he adds, holding his bottle of drink out to me “Thirsty?” I smile shyly at him, taking the bottle and quickly skiving some of the drink before handing it back.

He’s been so nice to me since this whole thing. Maybe he feels sorry for me?

“You don’t seem like the type to yeet.” he sits on the bench and I look down at him. The sun’s hitting his features perfectly and the image reminds me of a beautiful oil painting you’d admire in an art museum. Jeno shakes his head at my comment, pulling a “are you kidding me?” expression.

“You’d be surprised.” I sit beside him, wiggling my feet as the brief silence between us eats me up inside “When did you like me?” he finally asks, and I can feel his eyes examining my face and body language. There’s no getting out of this one.

“Uh, I don’t remember exactly. I just know yours was the latest letter I wrote.” Jeno’s lips turn up into a proud smile, causing my stomach to fill up with butterflies “You wasn’t meant to read it. Like, ever.” I add on, my words coming out at the speed of light.

“I know. I’m sorry I read some of it.” there’s a rawness in his voice that tells me he genuinely feels bad. Remembering what was in the letter just makes me want to shrivel up into ball. He’s read all those cheesy statements that I thought were so romantic and thoughtful at the time. I wouldn’t be surprised if he feels awkward and uncomfortable around me now... Yet, if he did, he wouldn’t be so inclined to help.

“Anyone would read a letter about them! I know I would.” I cross my legs and glance over at the lecture theatre. Mark’s probably already a quarter way through by now. If there’s a God above I ask that you allow the ground to just swallow me up right now. Literally, open the floor up and let me fall in. Anything to get away from this catastrophe that I’ve somehow brought onto myself. Let the almighty Jesus-

Jeno waves his hand in front of my face “You sure do zone out a lot, (Y/N).”

“What? Oh, yeah-” I twiddle my thumb nervously “Is that what you wanted to talk about? When I liked you?” Jeno tilts his head as though he’s oblivious to what I’m talking about; but suddenly it’s like a light bulb has lit up over his head and it’s all come back to him.

“Actually, I was going to ask how it was possible for someone to write all those nice things without even being friends first? Are you really that observant?” I’m ready to yeet now.

“You could say that...” my words trail off as I think of an excuse as to why I knew so much about him. Truth be told, Jeno was so popular amongst everyone that it was hard not to know so much about him “You’re Mr Popular, there’s not a lot people don’t know about you, you know?” his face turns up as though he’s cringing at my words followed by a small scoff that makes my heart drop.

“There’s more to me than people think.” he tells me, sincerely. Then I wonder if anyone in this college actually knows Jeno for who he is as a person “But hey, that’s college life for you. Do you still have my letter in your bag or did you yeet it somewhere?”

“I still have it.”

“If it’s not too much to ask, can I read the rest of it?” w h y.

“I think you read enough.” my tone of voice is obviously blunt and could be considered rude but in all honestly the more you read of the letter the more cringy it gets. I don’t want Lee Jeno sat in his bed and suffering from a major case of second hand embarrassment.

“I don’t. I was enjoying it.” he stands up and flings his back over his shoulder “You have a lovely way with words, (Y/N). Besides, you said yourself, who wouldn’t read a letter about them?”

I stand up with him, beginning to dig through my bag for his letter “If I give you it back do you promise to help me get the other boys to not mention it to anyone else?” his eyes and mouth widen as though what I’m asking is coming out as a shock to him.

“You think everyone’s going to make fun of you?”

“Duh.” I hand the envelope to him and for some reason he’s hesitant to take it.

“(Y/N), do you think I’m going to make fun of you too?” he holds the letter with me but doesn’t take it from my grasp just yet “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for someone else. You’d have to be the biggest prick in the world to consider making fun of you for that.”

Gently, he pulls the letter towards him and I let go “It’s just embarrassing. You expect love letters in cringy romance films, you know?” Jeno shakes his head and places his hands on either side of my shoulders.

“It’s sweet. Don’t worry about it. If anyone says anything I’ll stand up for you because I was lucky enough to get one.” excuse me, what- “Do you mind waiting for me after college? You won’t yeet, will you?” he raises an eyebrow and there’s a playful grin plastered on his face that tells me he’s trying to lighten my mood. Who would’ve known that the most popular boy at college could be such a sweetheart?

I nod and say “I won’t yeet. Thank you, Jeno.”

“Great.” and with a bright smile he turns away and begins to read where he left off.

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sortiarius65-blog · 5 years

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New Post has been published on https://worldofamulets.com/product/silver-pendant-seal-of-the-archangels-and-olympian-spirits/

Silver Pendant Seal of the Archangels and Olympian Spirits

The Silver Pendant Seal of the Archangels and Olympian Spirits is used to invoke any of the archangels or spirits and asking for their favors. In this incredible amulet not only the arcangels can be invoked but allso the 7 Olympian Spirits. This amulet will help you communicate with all of them when needed.

To invoke any of them just say it’s name 3 times followed by: I, (your name) invoke (name of the archangel or spirit) to serve my goal. After this you clearly and precisely state your goal to him and finish with: “Please go out there and make my wish come true. My payment is the gratitude i feel when you bring success.”

The Archangels

Michael

Michael Hebrew = Who is like God? Michael is one of the Angels of God’s presence. He is depicted as a warrior-prince leading the celestial armies against wicked forces and in Christian tradition he is the Angel with the sword. He appears as a tall young man, blonde hair and has yellow/golden coloured eyes. He is usually dressed in a golden cloak and tunic. He carries a large sword in his right hand. One of the Angels of the Apocalypse together with; Orifel, Anel, Zachariel, Raphael, Samael, Gabriel. One of the Angels of Creation with Orifel, Anael, Zachariel, Samael, Raphael, Gabriel. The first Angel created by God, Michael is the leader of all the Archangels and is in charge of protection, courage, strength, truth and integrity. The Ruling Princes of the Nine Celestial Orders: Seraphim: Michael, Seraphiel, Jehoel, Uriel, Kemuel. Ruler of the Fourth Heaven. reputedly contains the heavenly Jerusalem, the Temple and the Altar.

Magical Intentions:

Worldly ambition,, new jobs, peace, to acquire money and favors from people in power, regain youth, recovery of lost property and to obtain luck. It is an excellent time to work efforts involving business partnerships, work promotions, business ventures, and professional success. Spells where friendships, mental or physical health, or bringing joy back into life are an issue work well on this day, too. Growth, Advancements, Enlightment, Rational Thought, Exorcism, Healing, Prosperity, Hope, Exorcism, Money

Gabriel

Gabriel comes from the Hebrew meaning “Man of God.” It has alternately been translated “God is mighty” or “the strength/power of God.” The Prologue from Ohrid explains his name this way: “Man-God. Gabriel, has also been interpreted to mean ‘God is my strength.’

Christian tradition makes Gabriel the Archangel trumpeter of the Last Judgment (1 Thes. 4.16). In Islam, Gabriel revealed the Qur’an to Muhammad, becoming the Angel of truth. In art and literature Gabriel is mainly treated as the Angel of the Annunciation. In the Annunciation he often carries a lily, properly the symbol of the Virgin. He is often represented on churches with trumpet raised and facing east, ready to proclaim the second coming of Christ. The Archangel Gabriel appears as a mature male with long silver hair. Muscular in form and clothed in white/silver robe which shines in the light. Some say he also has a silver crescent ornament on his brow.

St. Gabriel the Archangel -“Fortitudo Dei”, one of the three archangels mentioned in the Bible. Only four appearances of Gabriel are recorded: In Daniel 8, he explains the vision of the horned ram as portending the destruction of the Persian Empire by the Macedonian Alexander the Great, after whose death the kingdom will be divided up among his generals, from one of whom will spring Antiochus Epiphanes. In chapter 9, after Daniel had prayed for Israel, we read that “the man Gabriel . . . . flying swiftly touched me” and he communicated to him the mysterious prophecy of the “seventy weeks” of years which should elapse before the coming of Christ. In chapter 10, it is not clear whether the angel is Gabriel or not, but at any rate we may apply to him the marvellous description in verses 5 and 6. In the New Testament he foretells to Zachary the birth of the Precursor, and to Mary that of the Saviour. (Hugh T. Pope. Transcribed by Sean Hyland. The Catholic Encyclopedia, Volume VI. Published 1909. New York: Robert Appleton Company. Nihil Obstat, September 1, 1909. Remy Lafort, Censor. Imprimatur. +John M. Farley, Archbishop of New York)

The Jews venerated Gabriel as the angel of judgment, and in both Jewish and Christian tradition he is one of the seven archangels. Gabriel is also known to Moslems, who believe him to be the angel who served as the mouthpiece of God in dictating the Koran to Mohammed. Angel of the Apocalypse with Orifel, Anel, Zachariel, Raphael, Samael, and Michael. Angel of Joy with Raphael. Watcher of the South. Ruler of the First Heaven. This heaven is the closest heavenly realm to the Earth. Many believe it is the abode of Adam and Eve ( who were also angels ) Angel of Mercy with Rahmiel, Rachmiel, Michael, Zehanpuryu, and Zadkiel.

Magical Intentions:

The ebb and Flow of magical power, all things domestic or about marriage, women in particular .Monday’s energy best aligns itself with efforts that deal with women, home and hearth, the family, the garden, travel, and medicine. It also boosts rituals involving psychic development and prophetic dreaming. Psychic Sensitivity, Women’s Mysteries, Tides, Waters, Emotional Issues, Agriculture, Animals, Female Fertility, Messages, Theft, Reconsolidations, Voyages, Dreams and Merchandise

Tzadkiel

Sachiel or Tzadkiel is an archangel of the order of Cherubim. The meaning of his name is variously given as “the covering of God” He appears in a urple robe with a cloak, in the image of an older man with gray hair. He also hold a scepter. Ruler of the Sixth Heaven.

Magical Intention:

The achievement of general ambitions, health and wealth. Generates friendships and social prestige. Governs Lawyers, legal affairs and justice. Thursday, the vibrations of this day attune well to all matters involving material gain. Use them for working rituals that entail general success, accomplishment, honors and awards, or legal issues. These energies are also helpful in matters of luck, gambling, and prosperity.

Haniel

Anael Hebrew: “Joy of God” or “Grace of God”, also known as Aniel.He is an Angel in Jewish lore and Angelology, and is often included in lists as being one of the seven archangels. The name Haniel probably derives from Hebrew hana’ah, “joy”, “pleasure” His family seal is a crescent moon with a small dove beneath it. From Hebrew hana’ah means”delight,” “enjoyment” plus el “God.” Haniel (Anael) means “the Grace of God” . He is listed in as one of the 7 Archangels. From a Kabbalistic perspective it is thought that this Angel escorted Enoch (Angel Metatron).

There is conflicting descriptions of the Archangel Anael some believe that the Archangel is Anael is 5’2″ tall with straight light blond hair and one pair of large cream wings., others an androgynous figure long black hair and with large gray wings approximately 6′ 0″ tall. Some also say that the angel appears as Dressed in emerald green tunic and carrying a lantern. He holds a wand tipped with a pine cone and decorated with multi-coloured ribbons. Archangel Anael is reputed to be the daughter of the Archangel Michael. As hshe is also one of the Angels of creation, this is unlikely as God made all the cration Angels. One of the Angels of Creation, which includes: Anael, Orifel, Zachariel, Samael, Raphael, Gabriel & Michael. Chief of the Order of Principalities and Virtues.

Ruler of the Second Heaven and in charge of prayers ascending from the 1st Heaven. The Second Heaven serves as the home of the Garden of Eden. It is also believed that both Paradise and Hell are contained in the second heaven on the “Northern Side” Prince of the Archangels and ruler of the Friday Angels.

Venus, the jewel of the sky, was once know by ancient astronomers as the morning star and evening star. Early astronomers once thought Venus to be two separate bodies. Venus, which is named after the Roman goddess of love and beauty, is veiled by thick swirling cloud cover.

Astronomers refer to Venus as Earth’s sister planet. Both are similar in size, mass, density and volume. Both formed about the same time and condensed out of the same nebula. The astronomical symbol for Venus isa Circle above an equal armed cross. The Venus symbol has therefore been adopted to represents femininity, and in Western alchemy stood for the metal copper. Polished copper was used by the ancients to make mirrors, and thus the symbol for Venus has been interpretted to stand for the mirror of the goddess. The Patron Angel of Students, Teachers & Learning.

Magical Intentions: Love affairs, friendships and marriage. All artistic matters, drama, the arts and beauty. Venus’s energies are warm, sensuous, and fulfilling. Efforts that involve any type of pleasure, comfort, and luxury, as well as the arts and music work well on his day. As Venus lends its sensuous influences to the energies of this day (Friday), use it for any magical work that deals with matters of the Heart. Romance, Marriage, Sexual Matters, Physical Beauty, Friendship, Strangers and Partnerships.

Rafael

Raphael, Archangel. Standard Hebrew, “God has healed”, “God Heals”, “God, Please Heal”, and many other combinations of the two words. An Archangel of Judaism and Christianity, who performs all manner of healing. The Hebrew word for a doctor of medicine is Rophe connected to the same root word as Raphael. Raphael is sometimes shown (usually on medallions) as standing atop a large fish or holding a caught fish at the end of a line on a fishing rod. Appears as a young man dressed in a flowing yellow cloak and bodice. Also, as with the Greek God Hermes, wears winged hat and sandals. He carry’s a caduceus. According to the occultist Johannes Trithemius (1462–1516), Raphael is one of the 7 angels of the Apocalypse (this opinion is derived from Enoch 20) and numbered among the 10 holy Sephiroth. Raphael is also denoted as one of the 7 Archangels who stand in the presence of God, as well as a ruler of the Cherubim and Archangel classes in the heavenly hierarchy. The Archangel, alongside Zarachiel, also holds dominion over Raquia, the Second Heaven. Angel of Compassion – Raphael. The Ruler of the Third Heaven. whem Oses visitedParadise it was the third heaven. It is also believed that the “Fallen Angels” are imprisoned in Raquia. From the Hebrew word rapha which means “doctor” or “healer”. Raphael is a powerful healer and assists with all forms of healing – humans and animals. He helps to rapidly heal body, mind and spirit if called upon. One of the Angels of Creation together with; Orifel, Anael, Zachariel, Samael, Gabriel, Michael. Raphael: is the Watcher of the North.

Magical Intention:

Business success and the will to succeed. Influencing people, theatre, mental ability and gifted speaking. Wednesday’s vibration adds power to rituals involving inspiration, communications, writers, poets, the written and spoken word, and all matters of study, learning, and teaching. This day also provides a good time to begin efforts involving self-improvement or understanding.

Samael

Archangel Samael: Appears as a strong muscular young man wearing a tunic on the style of the Romans with a flowing cloak. He has long red hair tied into a pony-tail. In his right hand he hold a short sword, again in the Roman style. Some say on his breast is a bronze plate engraved with a pentagram. Reputed to be the Angel of death & destruction who is often equated with Samael incorrectly, in the Book of Revelation this Angel is as Apollyon. One of the Angels of the Apocalypse together with; Orifel, Anel, Zachariel, Raphael, Michael and Gabriel. Ruler of the Fifth Heaven. One of the Angels of Creation together with; Orifel, Anael, Zachariel, Raphael, Gabriel and Michael.

Magical Intentions:

Physical courage and overcoming enemies. Projects related to war – success, prevention and cause. Disrupts friendships and causes discord. The energies of this day best harmonize with efforts of masculine vibration, such as conflict, physical endurance and strength, lust, hunting, sports, and all types of competition. Use them, too, for rituals involving surgical procedures or political ventures. Courage, Physical Strength, Revenge, Military Honors, Surgery and the Breaking of Negative Spells, Matrimony, War, Enemies, Prison, Vitality and Assertiveness

The Olympian Spirits

Aratron

ARATRON governs those things which are ascribed astrologically to Saturn. He can convert any living organism, plant or animal into stone, and that in a moment of time; he can also change coals into treasure and treasure into coals; he gives familiars and reconciles subterranean spirits to men; he teaches Alchemy, Magic and Medicine, imparts the secret of invisibility, makes the barren fruitful and, lastly, confers long life.

Bethor

The affairs of Jupiter are administered by BETHOR, who responds quickly when called. The person dignified by his character may be exalted to illustrious positions and may obtain large treasures. He reconciles the Spirits of the Air to man, so that they will give true answers, transport precious stones and compose medicines having miraculous effects. BETHOR also grants familiars of the firmament, and can prolong life to seven hundred years, subject to the will of God, which qualification imparts an air of caution.

Phul

Lunary concerns are under the government of PHUL, who truly transmutes all metals into silver, heals dropsy and provides Spirits of the Water, who serve men in a corporal [sic] and visible form; he also prolongs life to three hundred years.

Hagith

The government of Venereal concerns is entrusted to HAGITH, and the person possessing his character is adorned with all beauty. He converts copper into gold in a moment and gold instantaneously into copper; he also gives faithful serving spirits.

Ophiel

OPHIEL is the ruler of those things which are attributed to Mercury; he gives familiar spirits, teaches all arts, and enables the possessor of his character to change quicksilver immediately into the Philosopher’s Stone. Phaleg

PHALEG governs the things that are attributed to Mars. The person who possesses his character is raised by him to great honour in military affairs.

Och

Solar interests are administered by OCH, who prolongs life to six hundred years, with perfect health therein. He imparts great wisdom, gives excellent (familiar) spirits, composes perfect medicines, converts any substance into the purest of metals, or into precious stones; he also bestows gold and a purse, quaintly described by the English translator of the Arbatel as “springing with gold.” He causes the possessor of his character to be worshipped as a god by the kings of the whole world.

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frankiepaigewrites · 7 years

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Notes on craft: Point of View

Since last year’s PNWA conference, I’ve been doing everything in my power to delay writing up my notes. Moved house. Decided to hire an editor and substantially rewrite the manuscript. Sprained a thumb. (Playing tag with a five-year-old. Sheesh.) Decided to write submissions for three categories of this year’s PNWA contest. Got flu. Decided to sort out all of my husband’s childhood LEGO (and got diagnosed with “collection OCD” by the guys at my local used LEGO store). So, yeah...

We still haven’t properly unpacked, but I’ve just found my 2016 notebook, so let’s take it from the top. First on the agenda, Point of View as explained by the award-winning writer and instructor, Scott Driscoll.

Word of warning: this is not your usual POV approach, where the question is only Who Speaks? For Scott, the issue is much larger:

Three main POVs:

Flaneur

Objective Observation

Free Indirect Discourse

Four elements of POV:

Who Speaks?

To Whom?

On what Occasion?

From what Distance?

Who Speaks?

Types of speaker (these are broken down differently by different people, but I find this one clear):

3rd person - closed - limited - omniscient

2nd person - “you” as “I” - “you” as “you”

1st person - singular (“I”) - plural (“we”)

(This is taken from https://theprintedglobe.wordpress.com/2009/09/29/welcome-back-writers/, where you'll also find good examples of each speaker. In that post, however, POV is equated with Who Speaks. One closer to the one attempted here is available from https://prezi.com/iwnzl_wgvhxy/point-of-view.)

Other things to consider when analysing the speaker are: is the speaker part of the story, outside of it but part of the universe, or entirely external?

To Whom? Who’s listening?

Types of listener (not exhaustive):

contemporary, future, past

peer, superior, child etc.

internal or external (self and/or anyone interested - typical in flaneur POV)

There can be different listeners even within the scene, with a character listener pitted against the one the speaker is actually addressing (on the outside of the story world, or at a different time within the story, for example).

On what Occasion?

The reader needs to know what's coming to have the patience for what leads to The Occasion. This needs to be established quickly, so the reader can see the purpose of listening to all the details of the world and the character's life. It gives the reader an inkling of how the events being described fit into the overall purpose of the story. (And it helps the writer decide what is not essential and can be taken out.)

From what Distance?

Can be temporal, physical or psychic, and each of those can be set at different levels (near ↔ far). For example, something can be happening right now, but be retold with great detachment from the speaker, or might have happened a long time ago and far away, but still cause deep emotion.

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Flaneur, Observation, and Free Indirect Discourse are the three main narrative devices (POVs) that create contrast within the story. Contrast is necessary if the reader is to stay involved and have the patience to listen to all the details. It is established by moving between the three levels (views) in a way that creates pace, breathing space and context.

FLANEUR is the “highest” point of view. It is a floating, dispassionate consciousness. It offers commentary (through adverbs, metaphors) and conclusions, and usually uses words the character wouldn't use (longer, more insightful, with more complex syntax). Flaneur's listener is him/herself, the reader, and anyone interested. It can be used in any person (1st, 2nd, or 3rd). It often manifest as a discourse on a subject, and does not “tag back” to the designated character (speaker) while it's in use. It is not an omniscient narrator, because it does not offer ready values, meanings and does not pass judgement. It's more of an objective observer offering an insight that links the events of the story to broader human experience. It is necessary because it illuminates the character's values, and “every character who matters stands on a value.” Otherwise, the reader won't care for their experiences. Flaneur voice is best used after an observation, or else it feels forced by the author. It is also best left for after the reader’s already hooked and knows what’s coming, or they won’t have the patience for it.

(Metaphor, adverbs are commentary, they come from narrative distance, so use sparingly. They are useful when your character is really suffering and you want to create some breathing space for the reader.)

OBJECTIVE OBSERVATION is the workhorse of narration, it's the voice that gets the job done. (Those doors won't open themselves!) It accounts for about 70-80% of fiction content that's not scene or dialogue. In the objective observation POV, there's no character at all. This is the level of surface noticing, where the reader gets connected to the world. It is vital if the reader is to believe what the author offers on the other two POV levels.

(Try this: pull out something of yours that feels stale, and deliberately exaggerate surface noticing, detail.)

FREE INDIRECT DISCOURSE is the closest to the character. It's inside the head of the character (but not the voice in character's head). It's whatever voice you use for that character, but usually delivered in fragments, short bursts (snapshots) of internal experience. If carried on too long, it becomes stream of consciousness, and can quickly tire the reader due to its claustrophobic nature. Free indirect discourse, like flaneur, does not tag back to the character. (“He thought...” or “She wondered...” take the reader out of the character's head and into objective or subjective observation.)

Contrast is thus created by mixing up those three POVs, but this cannot be done chaotically. The two most common (natural-feeling to the reader) ways of doing this are:

pyramid scene structure: flaneur (wide POV) → objective observation (closer) → subjective observation (closer) → free indirect discourse (extremely narrow)

(Most common and transfers the reader naturally, with the contrast existing between scenes rather than within one scene.)

diamond scene structure: subjective observation (close) → objective observation (widening perspective) → flaneur (commentary, human experience) → free indirect discourse (back to narrow perspective)

(With this structure, the reader feels like they've stayed close all the time, but they get a 3D experience. The contrast between the scenes is not as obvious, with the transition feeling more seamless.)

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Some examples:

Flaneur

Death Comes for the Archbishop, by Willa Cather

(Setup: toward the end of the novel, the French priest who'd spent most of the story trying to wrestle New Mexico back for the pope from the rogue Mexican church, on returning back to Europe, contemplates the changes in his world and his place in it; the novel was recommended as arguably the best example of skilful use of POV; the fragment below is spoken from the flaneur POV, indicated by the sophisticated vocabulary and complicated syntax, not belonging to the relatively simple character.)

Beautiful surroundings, the society of learned men, the charm of noble women, the graces of art, could not make up to him for the loss of those light-hearted mornings of the desert, for that wind that made one a boy again. He had noticed that this peculiar quality in the air of new countries vanished after they were tamed by man and made to bear harvests. Parts of Texas and Kansas that he had first known as open range had since been made into rich farming districts, and the air had quite lost that lightness, that dry aromatic odour. The moisture of plowed land, the heaviness of labour and growth and grain-bearing, utterly destroyed it; one could breathe that only on the bright edges of the world, on the great grass plains or the sage-brush desert.

Objective Observation

Olive Kitteridge, by Elizabeth Strout

(Setup: the main character, Kevin, has just arrived in the town of his birth to commit suicide and nobody else knows about his arrival and intentions.)

The bay had small whitecaps and the tide was coming it, so the smaller rocks could be heard moving as if the water shifted them. Also there was the twanging sound of the cables hitting the masts of the sailboats moored. A few seagulls gave squawking cries as they dove down to pick up the fish heads and tails and shining insides that the boy was tossing from the dock as he cleaned the mackerel. All this Kevin saw as he sat in his car with the windows partly open. The car was parked on the grassy area, not far from the marina. Two trucks were parked farther over, on the gravel by the dock.

Jealousy, by Alain Robbe-Grillet

(Setup: the main character is stranded on an island with his openly cheating wife, and copes with the experience by focusing on nothing but the surfaces; an example of camera view narration, no insight, no subtext, nothing but objective observation all the way through – yikes!)

It would be better to pit the truck in the shed, since no one is to use it at the beginning of the afternoon. The thick glass of the window nicks the body of the truck with a deep, rounded scallop behind the front wheel. Somewhat farther down, isolated from the principal mass by a strip of gravel, a half-circle of painted metal is refracted more than a foot and a half from its real location. This aberrant piece can also be moved about as the observer pleases, changing its shape as well as its dimensions: it swells from right to left, shrinks in the opposite direction, becomes a crescent toward the bottom, a complete circle as it moves upward, or else acquires a fringe (but this is a very limited, almost instantaneous position) of two concentric aureoles. Finally, with larger shifts, it melts into the main surface or disappears, with a sudden contraction.

Free Indirect Discourse

The Ocean at the End of the Lane, by Neil Gaiman

(Setup: prologue of the novel, the character recalls a funeral he attended. I’ve crossed out the flaneur and put FID in bold. The rest is - mostly subjective - observation. FID has to be mixed up with other POVs or else it becomes an unbearable stream of consciousness.)

I wore a black suit and a white shirt, a black tie and black shoes, all polished and shiny: clothes that normally would make me feel uncomfortable, as if I were in a stolen uniform, or pretending to be an adult. Today they gave me comfort of a kind. I was wearing the right clothes for a hard day.

The Odd Woman, by Gail Godwin

(Again, FID in bold, flaneur crossed out, and the end is observation, some of it subjective.)

It was ten o’clock on the evening of the same day, and the permanent residents of the household on the mountain were restored to routines and sobriety. Jane, on the other hand, sat by herself in the kitchen, a glass of Scotch before her on the cleanly wiped table, going deeper and deeper into a mood she could recognize only as unfamiliar. She could not describe it; it was both frightening and satisfying. It was like letting go and being taken somewhere. She tried to trace it back. When, exactly, had it started?

#craft #POV

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