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virgolife6 · 2 years

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Planets in the 10th House

Sun in the 10th House

Wherever the Sun appears in the natal chart shows where we need to shine and be noticed; the area(s) in which our egos are most invested. A Sun-in-Tenth person is strongly driven to succeed…which most of them will, but a pattern with this one is for the peak of this success not to be achieved until mid-life or even later. The native might experience turbulence at home due to a tendency to prioritize career and ambition over more personal issues such as relationships or family life. This one has the potential to be an influential leader, though they tend to come across as an arrogant dictator. The Tenth House Sun craves public recognition, bristles at the idea of taking orders, and need to be in charge. Although the Sun is unusual in the sense that it doesn’t point in any specific career direction, the native enjoys being in the public eye and are likely to find success with any career in that area. Regardless of the position they’re in, the Tenth House Sun will be satisfied as long as they can call the shots and be praised and recognized for their contributions and hard work.

Moon in the 10th House

The Moon-in-Tenth native won’t have much of a personal life. Career frequently involves dealing with the public, as do social activities. There is an interesting pattern with a Tenth House Moon to suddenly change career directions in mid-life (remember, the Moon, like the tides, has the personal effect of a desire for change, as well as an ebb and flow in the life areas where the Moon is placed in the natal chart.) Associations with women or female family members often lead to career situations which result in financial success, though there is a strange tendency for a native with this lunar placement to become embroiled in a public scandal. This one knows exactly what the public demands and strives to deliver. Some concerns with a Moon-in-Tenth include indecisiveness when it comes to selecting a profession, resulting in somewhat frequent career changes, a propensity to allow emotions to cloud their career decision-making and/or having knee-jerk emotional reactions to situations in the workplace. If the native can recognize these tendencies, they will appear more professional, increasing their success and credibility with business associates. Because the Moon is a nurturing planet, a Tenth House Moon is frequently drawn to careers involving the care of others: nursing or other healthcare professions, child care, teaching, counseling, etc. Their emotions are often focused more on career and ambition than home or family concerns which can lead to discord. Although others, particularly family members — especially mom or a mother figure — will often try to dissuade the native from pursuing the career which their heart truly desires, the sensitive lunar Tenth House native needs to stand strong and stick to what they want; otherwise, career happiness and satisfaction will never be attained.

Mercury in the 10th House

Restless, communicative Mercury in the Tenth House gives a native for whom it’s not unusual to hold down more than one job at a time or have multiple irons in the fire. Mercury-in-Tenth has a knack for languages and this can be useful in any profession they choose to undertake. There is an air of authority with this one and they have a flair for communicating well and negotiating with supervisors or others in positions of authority. This one thrives in a job that keeps them on the go, traveling or what have you, as long as they aren’t chained to a desk or sitting still all day long. Easily bored, the Tenth House Mercurian requires frequent new challenges or changes of scenery to remain interested and stimulated. Easily adaptable to new and different types of people and possessing a witty communicative style which others find appealing, this one has an uncanny knack for success in writing or careers in journalism.

Venus in the 10th House

A Tenth House Venusian loves to receive public accolades, strives to achieve high social status, and often makes a successful career out of a hobby. They must receive credit for whatever they do, although they prefer being part of a team rather than working solo. This one can be misunderstood as being uppity or pretentious due to a tendency to associate more with the higher-ups of society, such as their company’s CEO or prominent people in the community, although this doesn’t usually indicate they are as snooty as they appear, although these connections do frequently financially benefit the native by opening doors and advancement opportunities. A Venus-in-Tenth is often attracted to romantic partners who are established and accomplished in their career, and usually this is someone who is somewhat older than the native. A marriage in this situation will probably bring career benefits to the native. Venus is the planet of love, pleasure, and beauty and this one is drawn to careers involving any of these, such as interior decorating, fashion, makeup artistry, or other similar professions. Interestingly, some natives gravitate toward careers which somehow serve or help other females — gynecology, obstetrics, rape crisis counseling, assisting battered women, or championing various female causes. This is a charming individual who is popular with the public, but also subject to public scandal or even downfall brought about by a woman.

Mars in the 10th House

The Tenth House Martian has exception executive ability and more than likely will dominate others in their profession. They have uncanny initiative and determination, are in it to win it, and have a strong desire to attain public recognition for their efforts; however, because they can be viewed as ruthless, they aren’t always held in the highest public esteem, regardless of the level of success they achieve. The native’s intense competitive streak will stop at nothing to move perceived obstacles out of their way…and yeah, this means they aren’t above stepping on toes and leapfrogging over the backs of others in their quest to be top dog. But even with all this perseverance, even the Mars-in-Tenth isn’t infallible and there are times when their lofty goals do not come to fruition, which can result in an extremely cranky native as, more than nearly any other individual in the zodiac, they hate to lose and when they do, they don’t know how else to react except with anger, frustration, and an abundance of self-pity and incessant bitching.

Jupiter in the 10th House

Jupiter is the planet of luck and abundance, and when its placement is in the Tenth House, the native is usually seen as being unusually lucky in career endeavors…and they are. Problem is, the Jupiter-in-Tenth can rely too much on that luck, becoming a bit reckless, and push the envelope just a tick too far at times, which can easily come back to bite the native right in the ass. Simply having an awareness of this tendency can be invaluable to the Tenth House Jupiter person. In any event, regardless of their chosen profession, success is usually easily attained and goals are seemingly effortlessly achieved. This is a sociable, confident, charismatic and persuasive individual who is popular with the public and will likely be recognized at some point in their lifetime with an honor. Social status is of utmost importance to this one, they prize their personal freedom, and often benefit from the influence of their many, many friends and associates.

Saturn in the 10th House

As I mentioned earlier, the Sixth House governs work but the Tenth House rules the type of work in which you find the most personal satisfaction. Saturn loves to place obstacles and limitations in our paths wherever it is placed in the natal chart, and in the Tenth House this usually manifests as success that is eventually achieved, but not until later in life and when the native does finally make it, there will almost be a feeling of disappointment or loneliness, as though what they’ve strived so hard to attain isn’t quite what it was cracked up to be. But the Saturn-in-Tenth has the patience, stamina, and perseverance to keep plodding along to ensure they do eventually get there. They often approach their career goals in an organized, step-by-step approach with an admirable amount of self-discipline which many other folks lack. That said, the native has a selfish streak and will generally put their own needs before those of others, leaving them vulnerable to disgrace in the eyes of the public. There is a tendency to take on too many responsibilities at once and their stubborn streak causes them to resist delegating some of these tasks to others. Dear Native: It’s not a sign of weakness to dole out some of this work to others, who are more than willing to lend you a hand…on the contrary, it demonstrates that you recognize your limitations, which in turn gains you credibility. Slow down, it’ll get done. Promise. My now-deceased Sadge first ex-husband had this Saturn placement. He plodded along in the same position with the same company from 1989 until his cancer diagnosis forced him to take disability in 2000, and he didn’t stay in that position because he loved it so much: he was content, it was what he knew. “Later in life” in his case meant late twenties/early thirties and by that time, he was still making only four dollars an hour more than when his career began. But in those 11 years, the total number of days of work he missed could be counted on one hand and I assure you, they were for legitimate illnesses. He had an unbelievable level of self-discipline when it came to his job and his duties, doing his work the right way the first time, every time.

Uranus in the 10th House

Uranus is infamous for being unorthodox and unpredictable, and when it’s in the Tenth House, this translates to sudden or unconventional changes in career. But it’s this same uniqueness that brings the native success: they have a way of seeing things which many other people would never even think of. Their minds are constantly spinning up new and unusual ideas, thinking so far outside the proverbial box that the box isn’t even visible anymore. However, the Uranus-in-Tenth detests having to deal with people in authority, as they need the freedom to do things their way. They have no desire to work their way up anyone else’s corporate ladder. For this reason, many Tenth House Uranian natives will make the leap to becoming their own boss, and you can bet your ass that whatever business they enter into, it’ll be something truly original, perhaps even shocking, unlike any other business. Because Uranus is a forward-thinking, innovative planet, success with an internet business is probable and likely profitable.

Neptune in the 10th House

Imaginative planet Neptune gives a native with impressive creative talent. This could involve writing or anything artistic, possibly a somewhat unconventional profession, and because Neptune is also the planet of illusion (rose-colored glasses), professional success might be attained using a pseudonym. The Neptune-in-Tenth native is intuitive, spiritual (though not necessarily religious per se), and idealistic…all of which can serve them well in their chosen field. One caveat to this Neptune placement is a tendency for the individual to attempt to take on too many projects simultaneously, resulting in a native who is running around in circles, certain they are losing their minds. My now-deceased former Cancer husband had this Neptune placement. More than once he was working two jobs, literally leaving one and heading straight to the second without even stopping at home beforehand. Furthermore, while working those two jobs, he could often be found perusing the classifieds, searching for other jobs. His work was never anything necessarily unusual or unconventional, but he was definitely idealistic and one of the most intuitive people I’ve ever met. Additionally, there was a call center position he once held in which he was required to use a pseudonym.

Pluto in the 10th House

Pluto’s intensity manifests itself in the native’s career with this placement. The native definitely stands out among their peers, pursuing goals with unprecedented drive and determination. Pluto seeks to uncover the hidden, so a Pluto-in-Tenth person excels in any position in which research is involved. The native is naturally mechanically inclined and this will absolutely be noted in dealings with the public. Tenth House Pluto’s father/father figure might have worked in a healing or research profession, and there are likely some unresolved, deep-seated issues with that parental figure that will need to be dealt with. Because Pluto is an all-or-nothing planet of extremes, the native tends to invoke love-hate reactions in their professional or public life. This one has an incredibly intense personality and is quite persuasive, a strong perfectionist with no qualms about shaking up tradition and doing things in a new way that makes more sense.

DISCLAIMER: None of this was written by me, it comes from an article which you can find the link for in the comments.

Do not repost, reword, copy, plagiarize, or do ANYTHING with my work or I will get a lawyer and personally sue you! ALWAYS give credit.

xoxo, ✰VIRGOLIFE6✰

#astrology #astro #aspects #astrology observations #astro notes #10th house #sun in 10th house #moon in 10th house #mercury in 10th house #venus in 10th house #mars in 10th house #jupiter in 10th house #saturn in 10th house #uranus in 10th house #neptune in 10th house #pluto in 10th house #astro observations

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thehistoriangirl · 9 months

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The Tides Have Veiled [Six]

Back with the main plot!

Viktor x Fem!Reader---Gothic AU/ Spooky Sea AU--- 3.5K---SFW

> M A S T E R L I S T < ← Previous // Next →

Synopsis: Piltover the Old has an old lighthouse that looms over an abandoned port. From the house in the wailing cliff’s edge, the lighthouse owner watches that the beacon is being lighten up each time darkness arrives, so that monsters wouldn't dare to crawl inland, or so legends say. Both building are haunted, maybe even the man himself, by both past and present ghosts. Surprisingly, the keeper’s work is beyond turning on the beacon every night— but the rest is on you to discover.

Chapter Summary: It's time for you to decide how further down are you going to walk this unknown path guiding you toward the cliff...

Taglist: @local-mr-frog @lunar-monster @bittercyder

White noise filled your brain, like the static of the old radio atop the beacon room. “Excuse me. I don’t think I heard you correctly—” you started, but Viktor only looked more embarrassed as he cleared his throat.

“I’m afraid you did.” Viktor left the spoon on the tiny porcelain plate, the white cup stained with black coffee. The echo of his voice hung heavy on the still air of the house, with your mind scrambling for words, to elicit any sound out your mouth.

Was this a joke? Or did your family come to threaten him? The mere possibility sent a void to devour your stomach. Eyes tried to scan the leftovers of your aunt and uncle's coffees, the crumbs of bread as if that way they would guide you back to the truth.

Though the only thing you found was chaos, tangled fishing nets as thoughts inside your brain.

“Why?” you heard yourself saying. The house magnified the sound of your voice, trying to fill the empty corners of the house. “Did my family come to push you into this? Because if that's the case, then…” Then you were trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea. You couldn’t even finish that sentence.

“I assure you, I'm making this decision out of my free will," Viktor said. “Please listen to my reasons, and then, if you’re not convinced, we will forget about this conversation whatsoever.”

You wouldn't think it would be so easy. Though curiosity gnawed at you, making you lean in closer.

Instead of telling you, Viktor fabricated a newspaper from the cushions behind him. Slightly wrinkled at the corners, it had been rolled up into a stick. You could smell of essence of coffee beans and Viktor’s detergent embedded into it.

The font was strange to read at first, words deemed alien under the nervousness sieging your brain.

It was an open contest for a teaching position at Piltover University due in three weeks. You looked at Viktor with a slight frown, but as you kept reading, with Viktor sipping his coffee—more out of nervousness than for thirst, you quickly understood why he had asked you so.

Among the requirements, you saw enlisted:

Present research proposal written on typewriter—handwritten papers will not be accepted. Maximum of ten pages per entry. [See appendix 2.2] From 27 years old onwards. Ph.D. in Marine Biology or similar required. Preference will be given to researchers B, C, and part-time listed within the institute. To apply to the research tier A list, the applicants should submit proof of economic and personal stability, i.e., a housing contract within the city or its outskirts, a marriage certificate, and a letter of non-debitance from Piltover’s Bank. [See appendix 3.4]

Marriage certificate? “Why would you need to be married?” you asked.

Viktor sighed as if he had argued the same question over his superiors before. “So we can assure that nothing… eh, improper, occurs between students and the faculty.”

“I don’t think these requirements can change much on that,” you stop from saying.

“Exactly.” Viktor gestured, exasperation tinting his voice. “Sadly, there is no use. I can’t change the rules all by myself, even if I wanted to.”

You grimaced. “But I suppose you want the position?”

His eyes brighten, like those of a cat. “Yes. Of course, I do. I've been working under a B-tier pool of researchers for years, even signing a position to be a part-time teacher for some seminars once two months.” Viktor looked away from you, toward the closed entrance door, the crystal from the window barely filtering the white hue of the sunlight pooling inside the oak floorboards that the green carpet didn’t seem to cover perfectly. “Alas, I’m lacking a requirement of the list.”

Your voice got out in a trembling thread. “The wife.”

“You don’t have to accept,” Viktor quickly added, passing a hand through his hair. “Actually, I apologize for having told you. It was truly unprofessional, and for that I’m sorry. It wasn’t my wish to make you uncomfortable.”

As he babbled, you looked at him; the coat open showing a brown vest, and white dress shirt underneath as if he were ready to give a class in an auditorium filled with eager students. So contrasting with yours, wrinkled and second-handed. The dress shirt tucked under your black pants was his, for example.

You would have never thought of Viktor as someone who would struggle to find a wife. He was kind and intelligent enough to have a job at Piltover University as a researcher—if the books and drafts for articles in his office were proof enough to convince you. And then it was his superficial looks alone; face carved in pale marble, all edges and elegance, eyes like honey pools. You remembered them gazing at you just as sweetly, last night.

Last night, inside this house muddy footsteps trailing after you.

Your mind couldn't stop from feeling hurt by his sudden rejection. An ache that reverberated in your chest was all too familiar.

“Haven’t you thought about looking in the city? I’m sure there must be someone well-suited for you there.”

Viktor chuckled, but the sound was hollow, his eyes looking at his lap.

“I suppose it’s easier to propose when the other person knows the darker part of me,” Viktor said with an awkward chuckle, the dim light of the foyer hiding the slight flush dusting his cheeks. “Life in the city is much different than here, which is why I don’t have any reliable options to pursue in New Piltover.”

You bit the inside of your cheek.

The owner of a crumbling lighthouse, of a haunted manor. Who in the city would keep up with this ridiculous myth? Especially not if said cursed man was a researcher of science, teaching at the University.

Did he care about those tales after all? Did he believe in them?

“If I say yes,” you ventured. “Just hypothetically. If I say yes, what’s on it for me?”

His eyes glued you with your back straight against the couch. “What do you wish to have, Miss? I’m sure we can arrange a deal advantageous for both.”

The answer slipped from your mind as soon as he finished his sentence.

Freedom. I want to choose.

Would it be alright if you chose to end up married to him if that was the same thing you were running about? Viktor seemed to think about it, too.

“It would only be a legal marriage, no other duties attached,” Viktor told you. "I only need the paper, as I rarely assist with social events anyway." He reclined on his seat, his right arm resting over the couch’s backrest. “What do you wish to do if you weren’t yourself? If you weren’t here?”

You left his words to seep into you, making your heart feel tight, almost claustrophobic inside your ribcage, of your body inside this house. Of your life trapped in this tidepool that was Piltover the Old, expecting to run out of oxygen.

“I want to go to school,” you muttered, the words barely audible over the silliness that bathed you. Years of mockery behind the slouch of your shoulders. Why study? What you have to learn to do is to tie a fish net. And you better hurry. “I want to be like my mother.”

At least, as the fake stories of her had shaped her presence as a trail on a wild forest barely cut through, but with the path cut wide enough for you to slip. Another marine biologist went days adrift on the ocean, trying to ask its secrets.

Viktor hummed. “I can certainly help you study for the admission exam if you wish to enroll in Piltover’s University or any other college in the city. And, of course, I will raise your salary, too.”

It wasn't just about the money. Sure, you needed every penny thrown your way, but there was this… force, that seemed to pull you back to this town, even when your mind tried to flee it on every vigil, of imagining a life outside these waves smashing the crying cliff, out the tiny hut near the coast where a simple fisher boat was tightly knotted onto a makeshift mossy dock.

Your mother had a steady income, and yet she returned, and then she couldn’t get out—even if she had wished to, having regretted her mistake.

You were afraid of having a tie that would call you back.

Viktor stood out on the couch, his cane moaning when he grasped the handle with his free hand, piling the dirty dishes and cups into a tray.

“I should go back to, eh, to work,” Viktor said, barely meeting your eyes when you raised your head toward him. “I advise you to do the same, Miss.”

You nodded, pretending his words weren’t still swirling in your mind. “Thank you, Viktor,” you said, voice strained. “Thank you for last night.”

He gave you a small smile. “It was nothing—and don’t worry, you don’t owe me anything. Quite the contrary, I’d say.” Viktor stopped his movement of tidying up the table, putting his cane in the crook of his elbow to offer you his hand. “I hope we can still be friends.”

His pale fingers were tinted with black ink when you slipped your hand through them, feeling the rough and cold surface.

“I hope so, too,” you answered, barely any force on the handshake. A hypocrite action, when you knew how it felt to be between his arms with a storm raging on your back.

*~*~*~*

It was a particularly slow night. A grey world painted in lazy brushstrokes between flashes of gold.

You felt the cold embracing your skin, no matter how many blankets you had snuggled around your body. Still feeling the cold rock scrapping your feet, the wind pushing you off the edge. Same imbalance, with your feet, propelled over the table you had moved from the control room to the beacon, wanting to look at the windows, your mind still not forgetting the strange silhouette that had peeked through the waves nights ago.

Viktor’s words had been haunting you all day, from harvesting the first tomatoes from your garden to each meal you cut with your fingers in front of the crackling fire.

He had promised you to find another lighthouse keeper as soon as you wanted to leave—it was in the contract laid in a corner of the table. But then what? Your mind hadn't dared to wander to what was outside the coast. Go to New Piltover? What for? You thought of working in a fish market, boots stained with bloody, rosy water, the stench of your homeland following you at every step.

Viktor had more books than the ones you had seen in your entire life, even if your mother's ones were almost painted in your mind, every word blurry from the dancing flame of the lamp as you read them at night. He could help you study for the exam, but for that, you needed an excuse to spend time with him.

As you looked out the window, two paths opened in your mind. One in which you would remain in here, and then, one day, you would see Viktor walking down the beach with a woman from the city, a flowy dress moved by the breeze. He was gesturing toward the tidepools left after last night's storm. Then, his golden eyes would feel your gaze, waving at you from up the lighthouse beacon.

As the night grew, the sky darker and the cold persistent, he disappeared as the tide rose. No matter how much you wished to, you couldn’t be swept by the sea.

The cliff cried outside your window, the crystal shaking with the tremble of the foghorn. You put your hand against the cold surface, swiping away the mist accumulated from your breath fanning above it.

There, on the beach, you saw it. You saw her.

The pale figure of a woman standing, grey and white like created from the mist outside. Hair was wet and stuck on her scalp; algae grew from her thin skin, barely keeping her bones conjoined. She blinked in and out of focus as the lighthouse turned on its vigil, a dark shadow bleeding from her torn nightclothes toward the tides leaping the coast.

Even if you couldn’t see her eyes from above her overgrown bangs, you felt her gaze pierce through your soul as if a harpoon had gone through bone and flesh.

With your hand still glued to the crystal, the numbness expanding from your cold fingers down your arm and your stomach, the woman raised a hand toward you and waved.

This is how your mother would’ve looked, a thought crawled to your brain. If she had been found.

You barely recollected the scream tearing its way out your mouth, throat sore as it echoed inside the beacon’s room, competing against the wail of the foghorn.

In answer, the woman opened her black mouth, putrid water soaking her dress as she screamed back in a wail that echoed like that of the cliff.

The pocket of your pants felt heavy and hot, your free hand prickling with the edges of the shell as you grabbed it with so much force, that you were surprised when it didn't break.

Looking out the window, the woman was gone.

You looked at the open logbook, the one with yellow pages, and soaked in time. The one forgotten inside this beacon.

She came in with the storm, leaving no rock unturned, no place to hide, all while looking for him. The words smudged, blurred by run-on ink. He seemed to mix with her.

Looking for her. Looking for me, your mind conjured. Looking for me.

You looked out the window, cold fright stopping you from moving the seat further away. But the beach was clear now.

“Mother?” you muttered, your brow against the window, your body growing limp as the sleep lured you into its cold and stiffened arms. But you jumped away, because this feeling seemed familiar, and you knew it shouldn’t have been.

Another cage. That was why. First, it was your family's hut, then, this lighthouse. This whole town. Was it the sea, too? All the ghosts that held prisoners under its waves crying and pleading for help. Angry to get out.

The next morning, you saw from the edge of the lighthouse the little silhouettes of your family going out of the hut and up the cliff. They looked like ants trapped in an unsurmountable bay. Other specimens are trapped in this tidepool.

And they weren’t alone—a well-dressed man, probably in his fifties following them up the steep carved steps until they disappeared from your peripheral vision.

You knew which was their destiny, as there were only two options up here. Hearing the echo of keys opening the metallic gate of the lighthouse, you ran to the control room, the door swinging close slowly, not wanting the wood to give away your presence.

“Miss?” Viktor called, and your movement froze. "Are you asleep?"

You looked at your reflection in a paint-stained mirror. Hair scattered like a bird's nest, black eyebags. Your skin seemed paler, too, as if seeing the ghostly woman had stolen some life essence from you.

You poked your head above the rail. “I’m here!” Recoiling, you added. “Give me a minute.”

A quick groom later, you bounced down the stairs, your boots squeaking against the wooden floorboards you had polished not so long ago.

Viktor was sitting at the table, facing the cold hearth. You could see his hand flying over the papers as he scribbled away, back slightly hunched.

Clearing your throat, you stepped next to him. He jumped slightly, and your hand hovered over his shoulder to soothe him.

“Ah, my apologies,” Viktor said, fidgeting with the handle of his cane. “I just…” He gestured away. “I just don’t want to be distracted today,” he said, his eyes looking toward the exit.

“You saw them, too?”

Viktor nodded, leaving his pen. "They know we're not engaged. So I assume that the new man they’re flanking is your suitor.” He scrunched his nose. “Up close, he looks like an ex-landowner.”

You frowned, taking a seat on the cot. “How do you know that?”

“His suit doesn’t fit him very well, which means he just started wearing these types of clothes,” Viktor explained, brows pinched in focus. “There are a lot of newly rich ex-landowners in New Piltover, they sold off their lands to the big construction companies, and now they’re squandering all their money.”

A chuckle escaped your lips. “Then, you wouldn’t marry him?”

He looked at you with an amused glimmer in his eyes. "Not unless you wish to get indebted in the near future.”

Something deep within you told you that there was no escape from such destiny. But pushing away the thought, you said:

"What are you working on?" you said, hearing your family pounding on the entrance door. This one was locked, and the lesson was perfectly learned.

“Tracing routes from sightings of sperm whales,” Viktor told you. “To see if they fit the ones which have a myriad of stories about krakens.”

You blinked away your sudden confusion. “Pardon?”

“They could be giant squids,” Viktor commented, and you wished to have started that book he lent you instead of watching the damn window.

“I didn’t know you’re also interested in legends.” They weren’t cold, justifiable science, much less a valid source of knowledge.

He smiled at that. "There is an entire department dedicated to studying these tales. They're very enlightening, Miss."

“How so?” You sat, elbows on your thighs, trying to lean as much closer to him as it was possible.

His golden eyes shimmered as he gazed down at you as if he could sense the shell tucked in your pants pocket.

“They tell us what frightens people.” Viktor shrugged. “And most of the time, they have a very valid reason to fear.”

You looked away, your mind marked by muddy footprints, by the white silhouette that could still appear every time you blinked too fast. Goosebumps appeared on your arms.

“Is something the matter?” he asked, observing how you tried to make yourself a ball.

“I… I just…” you whispered, feeling your throat tight, the feeling of containment only augmented with each bang on the door. “I just wish to get out of this place,” you said, feeling like a stupid child. Dreaming too big, settled only for disappointment.

“But I can’t do it alone.” A hiccup ripped out your chest, making you shiver. “I hate that I can’t do it alone.” The sea is going to pull me back.

The chair creaked, Viktor’s hand gently patting your shoulder. “Nobody can do everything alone, Miss,” he whispered. “It’s not weak to ask for help.”

You looked at him, your faces so close you could feel his breath warm against your cheek. “If I marry you, can you help me get out of here?”

His golden eyes widened. “Miss, you don’t have to do this just because of—”

“No, no, it’s not that.” You bit your lips. It was a foolery to tell him about your fear of the sea trapping you here forever, Viktor would think you were out of your mind, he would replace you with another lightkeeper. You would have nowhere to go, not when you didn’t have a concrete way you wished to follow. “I just… there’s no other way.”

I know there isn’t.

“Please, Viktor,” you told him, voice barely above a mutter. “Help me get out of here.”

From up close, you saw his widened eyes darkening, a passing shadow that could have been from the regret of telling you such a proposal, to sadness. Even pity and that thought made you almost take your words back, but the image of the ghostly woman waving you from the window stopped you.

She greeted you as if she knew you would end up in the same place she was. Alone on this beach, trapped in sand and waves even after death.

He inhaled a sharp breath. “I’ll help you,” Viktor said, his hands recoiling from your touch. They were trembling until he grasped the handle of his cane with so much force his knuckles became white. “If that’s your wish, then I promise, I’ll help you get out of here.”

Your hands were fists. “Then I’ll marry you.”

Viktor looked at you with worry. “I told you, you don’t have to—”

“I’ll do it,” you cut him. “It’s only fair. I don’t want to owe you anything. I’ll work for you as your lighthouse keeper, as your fake wife. A fair retribution.”

“At least think it over tonight,” Viktor offered. “Once you’d signed the paper, there is no coming back.”

You remembered the night terrors, shivering.

“There’s nothing to think over,” you said, even if it was a lie. “I know there are more scary things out here than a marriage I’m actively choosing to be a part of.” One that could give you what you wanted, with someone who could help you find a reason, a purpose to stay in the city. To help you meet new horizons besides grey and rainy dusks bathed by the ink-black sea.

Your words made him purse his lips, but he didn’t ask anything—to your relief. You weren’t sure what could get out your mouth if he made you confess. Would he believe you?

“Alright,” Viktor said with a sigh after a little eternity of dreaded wait. “Then, please prepare a suitcase as soon as possible.” The bang of the door has ceased ever since minutes ago, but the same thump, thump, thump, echoed in your heart at a rushed pace. “We’re going to the city the day after tomorrow.”

#arcane viktor x reader #viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane viktor x you #viktor arcane x you #arcane x female reader #viktor arcane fanfic #arcane viktor fanfic

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fulgurmancy · 7 months

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Hym Hidden in Starlight, I was hoping I could request names & titles based off of the moon & divinity, all being masculine or neutral. I thank you in advance. His Nocturnality hopes you are enjoying your time back here :D

Hi hi! Sorry this is a day or two late, I didn't get a notification for this ask? I dunno what's up with tumblr I promise all of these are related to the subject in some way

NAMES ,, aegaeon , aldrin , apollo , arche , atlas , caliban , callisto , charon , deimos , phobos , wane / wayne , azimuth , hyperion , janus , linus , london , monday , neil , oberon , puck , quacey , titan , triton , delano , hesper(o) / vesper(o) , luan , tarvos , umbriel , luniel , astin , artem , galileo / galilei , kepler , laplace , urey , adrien , ainglanor , alkmenor , lune , berylune , lleuwen , mune , selen , hunter , blu .

VIRTUE NAMES ,, moon , moonbeam , moonlight , moonsky , lunar , crescent , halo , new , eclipse , earthshine , penumbra , umbra , harvest , blue .

TITLES ,, the moon / moonlight / moonbeam , the moonlit {deity} / divinity , the earth's ( / {planet}'s ) beloved , the lunar deity , the deity of the sky , the divine patron of the sky , the heart / {deity} / divinity / beloved of the midnight sky , {prn} with / of the gentle glow , {prn} of the midnight sky , the heart of the night , the brother ( / sibling / {familial title} ) of the stars , the father ( / parent / {familial title} ) of the night , {prn}s midnight / lunar / tidal majesty , the master / heart / {deity} / divinity of the tides , the pride of the ( midnight ) skies .

#⎯ ✶ the stars #titles #title list #title ideas #title suggestion #title suggestions #names #name list #name ideas #name suggestion #name suggestions #mogai #mogai blog

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rockislandadultreads · 5 months

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Libby eBook Spotlight: 2023 Debut Authors

Lies We Sing to the Sea by Sarah Underwood

Each spring, Ithaca condemns twelve maidens to the noose. This is the price vengeful Poseidon demands for the lives of Queen Penelope’s twelve maids, hanged and cast into the depths centuries ago.

But when that fate comes for Leto, death is not what she thought it would be. Instead, she wakes on a mysterious island and meets a girl with green eyes and the power to command the sea. A girl named Melantho, who says one more death can stop a thousand.

The prince of Ithaca must die - or the tides of fate will drown them all.

Lunar Love by Lauren Kung Jessen

Always a matchmaker, never a match...

Olivia Huang Christenson is excited-slash-terrified to be taking over her grandmother’s matchmaking business. But when she learns that a new dating app has made her Pó Po’s traditional Chinese zodiac approach all about “animal attraction,” her emotions skew more toward furious-slash-outraged. Especially when L.A.’s most-eligible bachelor Bennett O’Brien is behind the app that could destroy her family’s legacy...

Liv knows better than to fall for any guy, let alone an infuriatingly handsome one who believes that traditions are meant to be broken. As the two businesses go head to head, Bennett and Liv make a deal: they’ll find a match for each other - and whoever falls in love loses. But Liv is dealing with someone who’s already adept at stealing business ideas... so what’s stopping him from stealing her heart too?

River Sing Me Home by Eleanor Shearer

The master of the Providence plantation in Barbados gathers his slaves and announces the king has decreed an end to slavery. As of the following day, the Emancipation Act of 1834 will come into effect. The cries of joy fall silent when he announces that they are no longer his slaves; they are now his apprentices. No one can leave. They must work for him for another six years. Freedom is just another name for the life they have always lived. So Rachel runs.

Away from Providence, she begins a desperate search to find her children - the five who survived birth and were sold. Are any of them still alive? Rachel has to know. The grueling, dangerous journey takes her from Barbados then, by river, deep into the forest of British Guiana and finally across the sea to Trinidad. She is driven on by the certainty that a mother cannot be truly free without knowing what has become of her children, even if the answer is more than she can bear. These are the stories of Mary Grace, Micah, Thomas Augustus, Cherry Jane and Mercy. But above all this is the story of Rachel and the extraordinary lengths to which a mother will go to find her children...and her freedom.

The Love Match by Priyanka Taslim

Zahra Khan is basically Bangladeshi royalty, but being a princess doesn’t pay the bills in Paterson, New Jersey. While Zahra’s plans for financial security this summer involve working long hours at Chai Ho and saving up for college writing courses, Amma is convinced that all Zahra needs is a “good match,” Jane Austen-style.

Enter Harun Emon, who’s wealthy, devastatingly handsome, and... aloof. As soon as Zahra meets him, she knows it’s a bad match. It’s nothing like the connection she has with Nayim Aktar, the new dishwasher at the tea shop, who just gets Zahra in a way no one has before.

So, when Zahra finds out that Harun is just as uninterested in this match as she is, they decide to slowly sabotage their parents’ plans. And for once in Zahra’s life, she can have her rossomalai and eat it: “dating” Harun and keeping Amma happy while catching real feelings for Nayim.

But life - and boys - can be more complicated than Zahra realizes. With her feelings all mixed up, Zahra discovers that sometimes being a good Bengali kid can be a royal pain.

#debut author #2023 reads #fiction #ebooks #libby #reading recommendations #reading recs #book recommendations #book recs #library books #tbr #tbr pile #to read #booklr #book tumblr #book blog #library blog #readers advisory

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nacrelysis · 2 years

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would you take me for a ride, would you toss me to the side

from @thormanick 's awesome prompt about phos and antarc's reunion, posted again separately. happy end of hiatus!!

"You're as beautiful as the day I lost you."

"Phos-" Antarcticite manages, but the rest of their name drops through their mouth like moon dust tumbling between teeth. And- they swallow back the strangeness, force themself to meet the eyes of what remains from a winter many centuries ago -

And what?

Euclase was right. Euclase, Antarcticite thinks, has always been right in one way or another; it bleeds through in the way they carry their lace-dripped shoulders, in the way they approach that redhead who always lingers by the balconies on ballroom nights, in the way they choose their words carefully so that the recipient will neither think them for the worse nor take hasty action.

Actions like charting a course to an off-limits planet on a night that the other Lunar-lustrous are preoccupied with Thirty-three's little flower cookies.

Antarcticite never liked parties, anyways.

You will not like what you find, Euclase's soft words echo like a moon bell in the back of Antarcticite's mind. Correct.

You will regret it. Wrong.

I will never regret Phosphophyllite. That had been their response. Short and hot-tempered in a way that they'd never dared when their body was all liquid cold and brittle loneliness, biased and stubborn in conviction that once had only been sworn to the man-once-machine that now chatted the days by with Aechmea.

"Not what you-ah-expected, was it." Phosphophyllite's voice cracks over simple syllables. They prop themself up at a weak angle on the beach, breathing harshly through lungs that Antarcticite suspects - with great ache - are beginning to tear their way into being.

"That is not a bad thing."

Their sigh comes out guttural and wheezing like the chimes that tinkle beside Rutile's office door. "It may well be.

"Antarcticite," Phos says slowly, like their name is bitter ash in their mouth. "Why are you here?"

It is simple. "Because you are here."

Somewhere on that human face, they think they see a furrow of the brow. "It is lonely here."

"Yes."

"You will not have the silks they drape on the moon." Phos raises a trembling, dripping silver hand to their bulbous eye. "I was there, once. It is beautiful."

A small smile. "You are more, though."

It is Antarcticite's turn to ask a question. "Why do you insist that I am beautiful?"

All of the Lustrous were beautiful. It was why the Lunarians supposedly sought them, after all- for their flesh that bled light, because the glare of their moon was not enough for their blank vanity. But Antarcticite is not Lustrous anymore. Beauty made them prey, but, the way Phos says it makes them wonder-

"What is beautiful to you?"

"To me?" The mass of mercury and gold slumps back to the ground, faded blue eyes fixing themselves on Antarcticite's gleaming hair. "Do you remember the ice floes?"

"The ice floes?" Of course Antarcticite remembers their enemy of centuries, the beast of the lost depths, the place where-

They freeze.

The place where Phos lost their arms.

"So you remember that day, too." Phosphophyllite chuckles. "Did you know the ice spoke to me?"

"I did." And Antarcticite can never forgive themself for brushing it aside, for their careless words towards Phos' body, for thinking arrogantly and selfishly that if they could be fine in the cold, then so could this creature the color of warm spring and fresh mint.

"At the last moment, I hesitated." Phos looks out over the lapping tides. "I tripped, actually- clumsy to the end."

"Do you remember the walk there?"

Antarcticite grimaces. "Phos, are you purposefully evoking memories of my guilt?"

"Eh? No." Phosphophyllite giggles, the sound quiet but effortlessly reminiscent of bright teal eyes in the winter sun. "I promise I have a point, ah.

"It was dawn. I saw you, there, atop the mountain of snow. Your hair floated around your head like strands of Shinsha's mercury, Antarcticite; I wanted so bad to touch it but I knew you'd never forgive me."

I would have, Antarcticite thinks now, old with regret and sorrow. I would have let you a thousand times over.

"You stood there, because you were doing your winter duties-" Phosphophyllite murmurs aloud, voice fragile and soft. "-but you looked back at me, and you told me to walk. Your eyes didn't catch the sunlight- I swear, the sunlight was trapped by the glitter of your pupils, Antarcticite, you were all white and pale and glowing in the sunrise-

"And I walked." They breathe, blue eyes vivid and wide upon Antarcticite. "Because you were beautiful like the colors in the north sky at night, and distant like the glitter of sun on the ocean- and I thought that if I could just walk further, and run faster, and reach out-"

They gasp to a stop, metallic hands clenching at thin air between the two of them.

Phosphophyllite closes their eyes, and finishes in barely a whisper-

"-I thought that I could touch you."

Beautiful. The way Phosphophyllite mouths it makes the word feel like something older than Yellow's pain or Sensei's life. Something unspeakably aching, unimaginably longing - unerringly human.

Oh, Phosphophyllite. What happened?

They must have stood there silently for a while, because Phosphophyllite turns their metal-flecked eyelashes down to the sand covering their ankles. "You should go, Antarcticite. The moon misses you."

"They miss me." Antarcticite agrees. "But I miss you."

And they don't, goes unsaid but understood all the same.

Phosphophyllite looks up, blue eyes cast in green under the sunlight. "Antarcticite. I'm not Lustrous anymore. I'm not one of you."

"Neither am I," Antarcticite says softly, and their sleeves ripple in the breeze.

"You're making a mistake." Blue-green eyes flinty like the winter reflection, fragile like the ice beneath. "Why would-" They stop. "-just. Why?"

"I miss you." Antarcticite's heels sink into the sand when they crouch down. They look at their hands, once stolen by the Lunarians, now one of what they used to hate. "The winter was my duty. Sensei worried that I felt lonely; I told him I was not.

"I did not realize I was lying until I met you." Pale, translucent hands take dripping metal fingers in their unorthodox grasp. One feels too faint to hold anything. The other feels too heavy to do anything but drown. "You were earnest, loyal, vulnerable. Leaping down the ice floes didn't feel so empty when I knew someone else was awake. The snow didn't feel so heavy when I knew you were there shivering too. When you fell-"

They take a deep breath. Phosphophyllite no longer stares at the ground; they trace Antarcticite's hands in muted wonder, once upon a time.

"-when you fell. Into the water, I-I was afraid." It burns to admit, but in a good way. Antarcticite thinks it might feel like the drinks Cairngorm insisted they try on the moon. "I didn't know how much I cared for you until you were almost gone, and I have always been ashamed of that."

"I was petulant." Phosphophyllite counters, though their voice is weak. "Childish."

"You were." Antarcticite agrees. "But over time, it became a petulance that made me smile. Childishness that made me want to tease you back. I never did. I was too scared.

"You endeared yourself to me, Phosphophyllite." They trace the side of Phosphosphophyllite's gleaming cheek. "I lost you that day, too, when I was taken away. I care too much to go through that again."

"It's lonely here." Phosphophyllite crosses their arms. It's so reminiscent of the mint-eyed gem that fell through snow that Antarcticite can't resist a smile. "The Admirabilis hardly come by, when they do. There are no parties. No silks. No comfortable beds. No drinks."

"I do not care much about the Admirabilis." Antarcticite nudges Phosphophyllite gently, looking them in the eyes. "I do not like parties. I do not want silks or drinks. I do not want luxurious beds. And I will never be lonely as long as I'm with you."

"There are no more Lustrous." Phosphophyllite whispers. Their final defense wavers in the air.

Had it been centuries ago, both of them fresh-faced in the snow, Antarcticite might have left it at that. They probably wouldn't even have had the self-awareness to carry the conversation as it is now.

But that was then. And even the sturdiest of gems can wear away by the tides of the moon.

"There are no more Lustrous." Antarcticite agrees. "So let us set it beside in the past, Phos. We are not Lustrous anymore. Our duties are over. Our work is done.

"And," they take Phosphophyllite's face in both their hands, and Antarcticite stares back at the wells of green and blue for all the centuries they had nothing to look at, "when the new Lustrous crawl from the shores of the beach and the cracks of the cliff sides, they will have us to show them a life without duty."

Phosphophyllite takes an impossibly small breath. Their eyes are wide and glimmering. "You promise?"

"I swear it." Antarcticite says firmly.

Phosphophyllite closes their silvery eyelids and chuckles, the genuine smile cracking through centuries of burden and wear. When they open them, Antarcticite thinks that they look just a bit closer to the color of the sunrise.

"You know," Phosphophyllite says conversationally, "I heard a tale about humans while on the moon."

"Is that so?"

"Yes." Phosphophyllite sprawls back where the grass melts into sand, casting their eyes back to Antarcticite. "Apparently, when humans wanted to seal a promise, they had a ritual."

"Which was?"

"Something," Phosphophyllite pauses, tilting their head, "called a kiss."

Antarcticite sighs. "I have seen Cairngorm and Aechmea. I know what a kiss is."

"So that's a no-"

"I didn't say I didn't want to," Antarcticite snaps so quickly, too quickly, and then they feel a sudden heat blaze across their cheeks. Phosphophyllite cackles and lays back further on the grass.

"Are you sure?" They tease, and the sunlight glitters back across their eyelashes. "Isn't it unbecoming of the frigid Antarcticite, most dutiful of the Lustrous, to give in to such worldly pleasures?"

Antarcticite sighs again.

If this is how life will be with Phos, well...they can't say they don't like it.

"Good thing neither of us are Lustrous, then." And Phos' eyes crinkle like the stars' smile upon the sea, and Antarcticite feels themselves fall to the force that the moon had been so bereft of; in the distance, the sun rises, and witnesses the becoming of humanity.

#houseki no kuni #hnk #宝石の国 #hnk fic #houseki no kuni fic #hnk phosphophyllite #hnk antarcticite #phosphophyllite #antarcticite #phos x antarcticite #antarcphos #fix it? kind of #ch 96

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aquitainequeen · 2 years

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Behind a paywall after you've read a certain number of articles, so;)

In 1851, Charles Babbage, the English mathematician and inventor, found himself preoccupied with what might happen should coal mines—then and now one of the primary sources of usable energy—become depleted. He concluded that “the sea itself offers a perennial source of power hitherto almost unapplied.” Babbage was talking about tides, those lunar-guided movements of the world’s oceans, and the very synonym of dependable constancy. But while his Difference Engine, a mechanical calculator seen as a seminal fore-runner to the computer, would essentially go on to remake our world, Babbage’s ideas about tidal power drifted in the undercurrent for the next century and a half, largely the province of dreamers.

Lately, however, buoyed by successful demonstration projects and a new interest in renewable energy bolstered even further by Europe’s anticipated turning off of Russian taps, tidal energy is moving increasingly into the mainstream. While the number of megawatts produced annually by tidal—in places from Canada’s Bay of Fundy to South Korea’s Sihwa Lake—is still small, notes Donagh Cagney, policy director for the advocacy group Ocean Energy Europe, “the increase is exponential.” For example, by 2050, tidal energy is expected to account for 11% of the U.K.’s electricity, compared with just 3% today.

But in remote coastal Scotland, some residents are already getting a taste of that future. Scotland has become to tidal energy what Saudi Arabia is to fossil fuels. Cagney chalks this up to several factors, ranging from its geography—the country is blessed with some of the world’s fastest-moving tidal sounds—to its experience in working with offshore oil extraction. For those reasons, it has for almost two decades hosted the world’s biggest grid-connected test bed for tidal energy, the Euro-pean Marine Energy Centre (EMEC). Founded in 2003, it’s headquartered in the Orkney Islands, off Scotland’s northern coast. Neil Kermode, the center’s director since 2005, has seen some 35 tidal-energy projects tested, by startups that have come and gone—some shuttered for lack of capitalization or nonviable technology, some absorbed by larger companies like GE.

But the biggest project ever run at EMEC is still there, providing power for 1 in 12 Orcadian households. The O2, as it’s dubbed, created by the Scottish company Orbital Marine, weighs some 680 tons, is longer than a Boeing 747, and skims the top of the water like the world’s largest rowing scull. “It looks like, well, a yellow submarine,” says Kermode. “When you see it, and the tide is roaring past, it’s really hard to realize it’s stationary. There’s a real optical illusion—you think this thing is being towed through the water.” But the O2 is chained to the seabed, via four cables, each capable of lifting some 50 double-decker buses off the ground. Only the water is moving, pushing two 10-m.-long turbines with some 100 metric tons of pressure, and continuously generating 2,000 megawatts (mW), enough to power roughly 2,000 homes.

For the entrepreneurs and researchers dedicated to harnessing that power, the ocean—that primordial space out of which so much of life on earth emerged—seems destined to once again supply the forces that will help create a new phase of history. But as anyone who has ever battled the waves by boat or board knows, taming the tides will be a gargantuan task.

The idea is simple. First, tides. They rise and fall predictably, relentlessly driven by the gravitational pull of the moon. Those traits combined make the tide an attractive proposition for powering the grid. “The sun doesn’t always shine; the wind doesn’t always blow,” notes Simon Forrest, the CEO of Scotland-based tidal-power producer Nova Innovation. But with tidal, he says, “we can tell you how much we will be generating two minutes past 3 in the morning a month from now, five years from now.”

Second, you need what is basically the equivalent of a wind turbine, placed underwater (either moored to the seabed or attached to the underside of some floating structure), which drives a generator. And luckily, water is denser than air, by some 800 times. “You tend to get a more compact, powerful source of energy,” says Forrest. “Our turbines are a lot smaller than wind turbines, but produce a lot more bang for the buck.” Nova, in particular, has other advantages: where the O2 floats, Nova’s turbines lie beneath the ocean surface. “Our technologies are unaffected by storms,” says Forrest. There’s no visual impact, he says—aesthetics have been a reason many people have objected to wind turbines in the past—and do not create hazards for shipping or other marine operations.

Nova billed its initial deployment, in Scotland’s Shetland Islands in 2016, as the “world’s first offshore tidal array.” There are now six turbines in Shetland’s Bluemull Sound, powering homes and, thanks to a collaboration with Tesla, electric-vehicle charge points as well. After the success of that project, authorities granted Nova a license to build a 50-mW array, which will provide up to one-third of Shetland’s power.

“We’ve been producing clean, predictable power for six years in Shetland,” says Forrest. “And you don’t see it.” Another thing that consumers on Shetland—or Orkney—do not see is the true price of their energy use on their monthly bills, thanks to government subsidies. For the technology to grow and spread globally, tidal-energy companies will need to reduce costs through scale and technology-driven efficiency improvements. It’s not a fantasy; for example, in the U.S., the price of wind power has fallen 70% over the past decade.

There is the question of how mass deployment of tidal turbines might impact the seas. “If you are putting something in the ocean that is extracting energy, [you] are perturbating the ocean,” says Michela de Dominicis, a senior scientist with the U.K.’s National Oceanographic Centre. “This can have cascading effects,” like disrupting the nutrient mix of ocean ecosystems as well as raising water temperatures. Her research suggests, however, that any disturbances may well be worth it. “In one of my papers I was showing that even if I’m putting like 20,000 turbines at sea and I’m perturbating the environment,” she says, “this effect is one order of magnitude less than what can happen with climate change.”

Tidal energy’s biggest hurdle may simply be the limited number of places in the world where it’s possible. In the U.S., aside from a small project in New York’s East River—which powers the equivalent of fewer than 400 homes—few sites have been identified that have the promise of Scotland’s waters. What the U.S. does have in abundance is coastline, which speaks to the promise of another ocean-energy source: waves. Despite an early burst of enthusiasm for wave power a few decades ago, tidal has since eclipsed it, in part because the open seas make for a more challenging environment. “It’s an unconventional resource,” says Andrew Scott, the CEO of Orbital Marine, who previously worked at Pelamis, an early and now defunct wave-power startup. “Waves have a vertical excursion. They’ve got a horizontal excursion. They’ve got a cyclical motion; they’ve got buoyance force; they’ve got different wavelengths that come at different angles. There’s no conceptual agreement … as to how you’re going to capture the energy.”

Given the potential payoff, however, people keep seeking new solutions. Inna Braverman, co-founder and CEO of the Israeli startup Eco Wave Power, thinks that early wave-power pioneers erred in trying to work far offshore. “The price was sky-high,” she says. “You need divers; you need to put all the conversion equipment inside the actual floaters that are in the middle of the sea.” Her company instead affixes wave-driven generators to onshore features like breakwaters. A pilot project in Gibraltar has been providing power for roughly 100 homes since 2016 at a fraction of the cost of offshore wave projects, she says. And the company is ramping up, with megawatt-level projects in Portugal and, most recently, the Port of Los Angeles.

Whether it’s moving on a wave or via the tide, water seems an integral part of the future energy equation. “The low-hanging fruit of wind and solar has been plucked,” says Cagney. “To get to net zero, we’re going to need every renewables resource we’ve got.” And as the global impacts of the Russian invasion of Ukraine underscore, energy security requires having a diversity of inputs. “There’s an advantage in having an energy source driven by a different sort of forces, because it means they don’t all align at the same time,” says Forrest. “If the wind doesn’t blow, it doesn’t stop the tide from flowing.”

#tidal power #tide power #tides #tide turbines #green energy #shetland #orkney islands #oh brave new world

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adenial · 11 months

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🇫‌🇮‌🇳‌🇦‌🇱‌ 🇫‌🇦‌🇳‌🇹‌🇦‌🇸‌🇾‌ 16 🇻‌🇪‌🇷‌🇸‌🇪‌

ㅤㅤborn of blood mixed with waloed and sanbreque , the dominant of leviathan , warden of death , eikon of water , awakened in an unsuspecting child . while other dominants were treated with veneration , or vitriol , those with the knowledge of lovek's existance were unsure of how to respond to such a person . leviathan's dominants were isolated creatures , chosen not by blood but by their lonely nature . ㅤㅤabandoned , left to fend for their own , like so many other children in their world , lovek stood apart from the socialized world around them . they did not step into conflict , they did not fall into the hands of another as a useful tool , and any who dared try were left bereft of life . ㅤㅤmistrusting of all , the only flicker of understanding she finds amongst other humans are the ones gifted eikons or the bearers who wielded their magic . the others that were deemed tools , used to propogate another man's warmongering . ㅤㅤin regards to which way the tide churns in lovek's belief system , with cid or with ultima , is up to plotting . however , i'd say she is more inclined to side with those who can figure how to manipulate her -- so barnabas , purely because of manipulation tactics . ㅤㅤhowever , that being said , this would only last for a little while . the second that the nation of waloed would be threatened by barnabas and made into akashic , lovek would absolutely turn against him . ㅤㅤshe is long lived , despite her dominance and the drawbacks of being a vessel for such incredible amount of aether . there is petrification along her arms , but because of her longevity and her isolation she's not had to use nearly as much as other vessels who were tools of war . ㅤㅤdespite being nearly 80 , she appears to be in her 20's . ㅤㅤlovek does have the title of 'ㅤleviathan the lostㅤ' , due to his nature of being alone . many consider leviathan to be dead , and never chosen again , lovek being her last dominant . this is merely because lovek has moved to shadows , an observer of what goes on around her , and only reveals herself to bearers and other dominants .

ㅤㅤabilities she yields because of her eikon : ㅤㅤㅤㅤ🇸‌🇪‌🇲‌🇮‌-🇵‌🇷‌🇮‌🇲‌🇪‌ : blue aether shimmer , scales against ㅤㅤㅤㅤher skin . ㅤㅤㅤㅤ🇧‌🇷‌🇮‌🇳‌🇾‌ 🇧‌🇪‌🇱‌🇱‌🇴‌🇼‌ : able to slash their blade with water magic ㅤㅤㅤㅤwith the strength like that of a hydraulic cutter . ㅤㅤㅤㅤit can slash easily through most things because ㅤㅤㅤㅤof the pressure of the water . ㅤㅤㅤㅤ🇬‌🇪‌🇾‌🇸‌🇪‌🇷‌ : aoe that spews waters from columns randomly ㅤㅤㅤㅤon the ground . ㅤㅤㅤㅤ🇼‌🇦‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇾‌ 🇬‌🇷‌🇦‌🇻‌🇪‌ : wraps the victim up on water to suck ㅤㅤㅤㅤthe life out of the victim . ㅤㅤㅤㅤ🇵‌🇷‌🇮‌🇲‌🇪‌🇩‌ : fully leviathan , able to do more attacks ㅤㅤㅤㅤsuch as ; 🇹‌🇦‌🇮‌🇱‌ 🇼‌🇭‌🇮‌🇵‌ , slashing with her tail . 🇬‌🇾‌🇷‌🇪‌ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ🇸‌🇵‌🇺‌🇲‌🇪‌ , explosion of water aoe . 🇹‌🇮‌🇩‌🇦‌🇱‌ 🇼‌🇦‌🇻‌🇪‌ , ultimate ㅤㅤㅤㅤability . ㅤㅤwere lovek to eat of the mothercrystal , she would ㅤ become lunar leviathan .

ㅤㅤconcept idea : lovek resides within waloed , when the people start to become akashic lovek actually shelters some few that she can , protecting them with her aether .

#im sure i could add more at some point once some plotting happens but #these are the basics #it's my jewish right to make my character leviathan i think #JHBSBFjhebfjhdbf soryr ill shut up #ff16 verse .

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shatter-song · 1 year

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Song's writing pieces

I have decided to make a master-post of all the fics I've wrote!

In progress fics:

(WIP) A New Look - Amity goes to the only person who she knows would understand when it comes to looking like someone you hate

(WIP) time to get funky - a fic revolving around a piece of work on 2023's nuts and dolts week!

Lunar Plight - I use Indie Cross as an excuse for Ori to save the Smiling Critters.

Completed fics:

Gas Leak - Aroace Hunter Week 2023 prompts! Only the first four though, I wanted to continue my other fics.

Uncorrupted - A crossover between the Ori games and Kena.

On hiatus:

A Second Opinion - Viney really doesn't know what to expect when keeping in touch with the Golden Guard after he kidnapped her.

Fellas, is it gay to sleep with your best friend? - A Melodybeast centered fic before For the Future and post King's Tide!

This will be continuously updated as I finish or upload fics!

#the owl house #ori and the blind forest #kena bridge of spirits #a tumblr user's rambling #fanfic #ao3 #ori #poppy playtime #ori and the will of the wisps

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draceempressa · 1 year

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Moon Motif: Eirika, Nott, Alcryst.

Eirika may not have moon motif from the beginning, but Heroes consistently give her moon motif, so she's here and I will start from her.

Eirika have Lunar Brace in her Legendary version, and versions of Moonlight Bangle in her Brave and her summer version.

Said legendary version is Wind version and the Sieglinde tied to said version is, instead of gale of breeze , is Storm Sieglinde. This one perhaps is a stretch, but storm is also affiliated with rain, with water. Don't ask yet why she's not flat out a Water legendary. But point is, the moon is associated with water, as the moon affects the rising of the sea tide.

The moon is also tied with witchcraft, and her Anamnesis and Summer variant are mages. The moon is also tied with everything feminine, and it includes grace. Her Legendary variant is called Graceful Resolve. The moon is also tied with wisdom, as she's certainly more pacifist than Ephraim. if you pay attention and look up to the sky in a clear day, the moon is actually out there in the day, but the sun is not out in night. This is like how Eirika is always covering up and supporting Ephraim when Ephraim have his own agenda, that doesn't always involve her.

Now, in her home game sacred stones, Eirika 's affinity is Light, when in FEH, Nott is the Mythic of Dark. And yet, both fits. The moon have its own light, and yet it comes out when it's dark, the night. Altiernatively, it may refer to the multiple phases of the moon, from full moon, crescent, and then to new moon.

As previously mentioned, the moon is tied with most things tied to basic femininity trope. fecundity, elegance, beauty, you name it. Which is what exactly Nott is. Giant warrior aside, she's typical waifu tropes rolled into one. And she's also known for acting unwise when she sees a cute guy. The cool word for acting unwise when you simp? Moonstruck, that's what.

As for Alcryst, the moon is realisticaly, a satellite. Half of his lines are deprecating himself, and the other half is looking up to Diamant. Like Eirika, he also devotes himself to support Diamant. The moon also represent illusion, anxiety and misguiding, as we know he has impostor syndrome.

He is also lowkey unhinged whenever he deals with enemy (mostly Elusian in game). And he has access to Luna in his promoted class. LUNAtic., if you would.

#fire emblem heroes #fire emblem sacred stones #fire emblem engage #eirika #fe nott #alcryst #fe heroes #fe8 #fe17 #fe 8 #fe 17 #magvel

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queerleaflet · 9 months

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"You're safe here, I promise."

"Will you hold my hand?"

(Why not both?)

It was odd to see there be light in the otherwise still inn room, yet the full moon flooded between unnaturally parted curtains in spite of that fact. They waved to and fro lazily with the summer evening air, a tide of their own choosing. Someone was here.

Someone was here, surely, as the door opened and caused the windowsill to creak in surprise. For any other, it would be an empty room, someone who had forgotten to close the windows before leaving it vacant. But G’enta knew more, heard more….and would never leave such a thing unattended.

Her satchel was set with a silent ‘sniff.’ Green eyes glinted against the lunar lighting, staring at the window with alertness….then a tired concern.

“…Eteion, I know you’re there.” Concern turned to kindness, the cat stepped over to the window. The creaking resumed uncomfortably, curtains revealing the once invisible entelechy shaking at the edge. Striking blue eyes stared into the miqo’te’s as she trembled. It looked as if the little bird had been crying for quite some time. “…oh.”

“I’m…s-sorry..” Meteion gripped at the curtains with tiny hands. The fabric provided an effective-albeit scratchy- stim for the moment. “I…I didn’t….mean, to…s-scare…you…u…”

“You think you could scare me, huh?” Her signature smirk, reassuring to the last.

“…b-but you’re…s…scared. I’m…scared….too.” Her words brought G’enta to pause….and she understood. She WAS scared. Having witnessed what she had, the crimson moon of the 13th, the miserable fate of her friend’s sister, watching a loved one hurl themselves into the unknown and nearly perishing before their eyes AGAIN…not even knowing what would happen to them, should Zeromus emerge in the source?

G’enta hoisted herself up on the windowsill next to her, taking a moment to rearrange her tail so it sat comfortably. “…Yer right about that. We’re in another pile of shite reaching apocalyptic proportions. That’s enough to scare anyone….especially you.”

“I….I feel…them.” The bird looked down to her hands, held together, curtain between them. “Even those who don’t…feel Vrtra’s….unease. The dragons….they hurt. And the other….if we don’t…w-we can’t…” Her wings drooped, eyes moving about as if she was seeing something else, somewhere else. Of course, the dragons….her appointed star, ostrakon deal okto, the dragonstar. The thoughts were stopped abruptly, paused as a warm hand fell gently on her head.

“Eteion.” Soft words in a strong voice, soothing and settling. “You aren’t alone this time. And we aren’t about to let our star, our home get taken over by something like this. Before you came back I’m sure you saw it from Stinien and I…this is by far not the biggest threat we have handled. Not by a long shot.” The hand would move to pet her, adding to the grounding. “You’re safe here, I promise.”

“…” another tear fell down the girl’s cheek, but it was soon wiped away by the woman beside her. She leaned into her companion’s shoulder, weighing nothing against the denser aether. “I…want to believe…you…but….it’ll take…time…”

“That’s perfectly fine. We have all the time in the world.” G’enta hummed, glancing up at the moon’s reflection in the mirror of her room. “Fear takes us all…it’s a part of being alive. It’s what we do with it that makes the difference.”

“…will you…hold my hand?”

There was no audible response, just warm, clawed hands gently taking the entelechy’s. As she leaned into her shoulder, so did the other in kind, setting her head to rest against her feather’d friend. She knew of all people what it took to learn the hard way life after a sheltered upbringing…and she would take this entelechy under her wing until she had the courage to learn about the world herself…with her own courage.

#ffxiv fan fiction #Drabble #G’enta tuues #tuues #meteion #ew spoilers #ffxiv ew spoilers #6.4 spoilers #prompt

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thehistoriangirl · 9 months

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The Tides Have Veiled [Seven]

This is a loong one so buckle up!

Viktor x Fem!Reader--Gothic AU/Spooky Sea--4.7K---SFW

> M A S T E R L I S T < ← Previous // Next →

Synopsis: Piltover the Old has an old lighthouse that looms over an abandoned port. From the house in the wailing cliff’s edge, the lighthouse owner watches that the beacon is being lighten up each time darkness arrives, so that monsters wouldn't dare to crawl inland, or so legends say. Both buildings are haunted, maybe even the man himself, by both past and present ghosts. Surprisingly, the keeper’s work is beyond turning on the beacon every night— but the rest is on you to discover.

Summary: You arrive at the city, knowing that once you return by the sea, things will have changed. For the better of for worse? That's on you to decide.

Taglist: @lunar-monster @bittercyder @local-mr-frog

Chapter Seven: The Sea's Call [Pt. 1]

The air far from the coast was colder and thinner, and yet the whole ride toward the city felt just as asphyxiating and dense inside the tiny carriage that bumped away at every second on the unpaved road.

Viktor pretended to read the whole time, even when you doubted he could make sense of the words with how much the carriage seemed to jump around. But the façade was welcomed because you didn’t wish he could see the way you fidgeted with the hem of the sweater that was too long for you to wear.

Knitted in wavy patterns, teal blue as if you’d wished to take a part of Piltover the Old with you now that the roar of the sea was too far away to be heard, replaced by white noise, the still breath of Viktor echoing in the quiet ambiance.

You had forgotten to scrub your hands well enough, some stains of oil staining the reverse of your palms. Viktor helped you maintain the electrical system of the lighthouse, Surveying the beacon will keep the light up day and night for consecutive three days.

Part of you prickled with curiosity, wanting to know why it was so important to turn on the lighthouse beacon, but besides the very peculiar circumstances of your messy relationship with Viktor, you found yourself shying away when the question wished to pour out your lips.

Ever since the footprints went toward Viktor's bedroom, a thought haunted the back of your mind when the world became quiet, when all you had to do was to watch toward the sea, toward all the ghosts and creatures that seemed to become more solid the more you thought about them.

You didn’t wish to know—and part of you claimed it was a terrible idea to get tied to this man, to the owner of the claimed haunted house by the cliff.

But was it, truly? Could it be… a you problem? Instead of all the legends coming true, it could be your mind invocating them to life to distract you from your unstable situation, suspended midway from jumping off into the endless void.

You decided to nap, at least try to, the bumpy road not helping to lull you. Though inside the dreamlands your inner warning still reached you; in the form of a misty evening with the water rising at the coast, with nowhere to go.

There, you were one of the specimens in Viktor’s studio in the basement, trapped in a tidepool first, and then forever in formaldehyde. You hoped this marriage wouldn’t corner you to such destiny.

You closed that door, opening the next, this one deeper into your subconscious. Everything floated and swayed in a calm current, lulled by the chants of the waves crashing over a golden shore filled with broken shells; there you could lay on the cool sand and stargaze when the moon turned the water liquid silver.

“Miss?” A voice said, and you were about to open your mouth to invite them to watch the night sky, when a hand touched your shoulder, gently shaking it. “Miss, we’ve arrived.”

Your eyes opened, golden eyes gazing down at you. Viktor’s lips curved in an apologetic smile. You had barely slept ever since your haunting experience inside his house.

You nodded, finding that your hands were trying to comb your hair, so used to the humid air of the sea that down it felt dry and without volume. Viktor exited the carriage once he was sure you were awake, hands reaching inside his pocket to retrieve the key to enter the building in front of you. His figure disappeared into the luminous foyer as the driver helped carry the luggage up the stairs, barely two identical suitcases as Viktor had to lend you one.

Minutes later, Viktor got outside. You caught a glimpse of his hands folding a ticket inside the breast pocket of his jacket. He stood at the door of the carriage, extending his hand toward you.

You took his hand, jumping out of the vehicle. Your steps were wobbly, like a newborn fawn. Cobblestone welcomed your feet, steady and solid contrary to the sand that tried to suck you underneath over the beach dunes. You heard chatter echoing in the busy streets, another lulling rhythm replacing the waves, both just as never-ending.

Looking around, you took in the tall buildings with wide windows open to take the afternoon breeze, curtains dancing ghostly melodies against the wind. The city smelled like oil and smoke, like newly baked bread and strong coffee. It felt alive.

Some puddles of rain reflected on your face as you gazed down at the flicking reflections of you mixed with the landscape. Almost meant to be.

“Come inside,” Viktor told you, taking some money from his pocket at seeing the driver coming down the flight of stairs, tilting his hat to Viktor to inform him the luggage was placed at the entrance of the apartment. “It’s getting colder out here.”

You were torn between letting go of his hand to walk down the street, the coffee shop on the other side cozy, and warmth from all the people talking and laughing inside.

Viktor seemed to follow your gaze because he smiled. "We can go there once we eat a strong meal first. Their fruitcake is delicious. But it won’t make you any good to eat dessert first, would it?”

“Why is that?” you inquired, following him inside the house. Three floors were divided into an apartment each without counting with the restaurant on the ground floor, the main landing flooded with a drooling smell of stews and grilled meat. “Talking from experience?”

Viktor chuckled. “Most certainly.” He looked up at the stairs in front of both of you and sighed, one of his hands grabbing the metal rail and he propelled his weight up.

“You can lean on me if you want,” you said, just by instinct.

“It’s easier with the rail,” Viktor reassured you, looking back at you with the smallest of smiles. “But thank you for the offer, Miss.”

His apartment was nothing like the gloomy house near the sea. This one brimmed with life; pale yellow walls showed countless chalkboards and boards filled with papers and drawings, polished wood floorboards there where fluffy carpets didn’t cover it. A large couch tucked between a bookshelf and a coffee table had a couple of blankets thrown in the backrest, cushions pilled up to where you supposed, he laid back in the afternoons to keep working.

Viktor cleared his throat at your wandering eyes. “My apologies for the… eh, the clutter. I'm not used to having visitors."

Hardly could you be called that, after everything. Though you kept the thought to yourself.

Besides, you had helped him tidy up the house, so you thought he didn’t have a particular reason to feel embarrassed. “Don’t worry. You can’t do many chores when you’re this busy. I imagine.”

He nodded, his bare feet muffled by the wood as he left his shoes in a rack by the door, walking toward what seemed to be the kitchen. You slid the luggage inside, taking your boots off before closing it.

Viktor returned with a glass of water for you. “The food will be here shortly,” he said, gesturing for you to follow him across the hallway. "Sadly, I don't have a guest room here either. I will be sleeping on the couch; you can take the master bedroom.”

You looked at him, almost horrified. Shame and fear washing at you—you remembered quite well what occurred when you took his bedroom before.

“I sleep there most nights, you don’t have to worry about it.” As if you needed confirmation from the nest of blankets and pillows on the couch, he opened a door, turning up a lamp to reveal the bedroom. Contrary to the piles of books and papers, and the closet ajar with some clothes thrown inside carelessly, the bed was practically untouched besides some wrinkles in the side next to the closet.

“You can change if you want,” Viktor continued. “I will be in the living room if you need something. The bathroom is at the end of the hallway.”

He closed the door once you and your luggage were inside. Carefully, you sat at the edge, feeling the cozy carpet underneath the bed brushing your toes, as soft as sand, the fluffiness of the duvet, and how your body sunk into the mattress. Looking around, you saw the pairs of shoes Viktor had tossed in the bottom level of a vanity with no stool. You left your things there; hairbrush and tiny bottles of shampoo and soap, toothpaste, and toothbrush. You had brought the shell, too.

The next thing you did was rummage in your luggage to take your clothes off it and use the cloth hook behind the door to hang your dress.

Your wedding dress, you thought as you bit your lips.

It wasn’t white, but rather a yellowish ivory with details in gold that time, and abandonment had only got more yellow. It had been your mother’s, watched over by your grandmother until you were old enough to wear it without dragging the skirts. Of course, it wasn't supposed to be the one you wore to whatever wedding your family was planning for you, but rather just another one of the puzzle pieces of memories of the life you couldn’t have.

Shaking your head, you changed into the first clothes you saw; an old green dress that you tied with a belt as the hem had become too loose over the uncountable washes, that’s why the sleeves would sometimes slip away from your shoulders if you moved too much. But the fabric was thick enough from the slightly cold air of the city, and you weren’t meant to explore the suburbs until tomorrow, after the wedding.

Looking at your reflection in the vanity, you nodded at yourself—more for gathering courage rather than in an approbatory way. Then you tiptoed outside the room, hearing Viktor mumbling to himself as he hurriedly tried to clean the living room.

He looked at you with surprise, almost as if he had forgotten you were supposed to be there, before gesturing to the kitchen. "The food arrived. Feel free to serve yourself, I will be there in a second.”

You walked toward him, looking at the myriad of books lying around, from physics to folklore tales and history, to biology and engineering. Part of you felt relieved at seeing that Viktor was so knowledgeable. If there was someone to help you study to enter the University, that was him.

“I can help you clean,” you offered, taking the folklore book, some papers falling at your feet. “Uh. I’m sorry.” You crouched, piling the pages and putting them inside the book. It seemed old, with yellow pages and the spine almost unattached. Scribbled on the front page was a name.

“Don’t worry,” Viktor said, fingers taking the book away from you before you could read the dedicatory. “You can eat first, I’m not very hungry yet. The journey made me feel motion sickness.”

You blinked, embarrassed that he may be driving you away due to your nosiness. “Oh, alright then.” Then he also couldn’t read while in the carriage. That would mean he was trying to ignore you or to pretend doing something else to avoid making you feel nervous. But little mattered, you thought as you walked inside the kitchen, a bowl with beef stew and bittersweet chicken accompanied with white rice laid in porcelain plates flanked by a jar filled with orange juice.

You sat, alone in the still space of the kitchen, with only momentaneous echoes of Viktor’s steps as he moved around on the other side of the wall.

He appeared around an hour later when he heard you turning on the water to clean the dishes. Viktor settled next to you, taking a towel to clean them as he put them away on the cupboard.

"I went downstairs to buy some bread," he announced to you, signaling to the paper bag lying on the table. "I hope you like chocolate."

*~*~*~*

You sat on the missing stool of the vanity, Viktor settling in a chair next to you.

The balcony was a small cube, some lines of rope filled with empty clothespins. It couldn't overlook the city that well, with Viktor's department being only on the second floor rather than the last, but you liked the view anyway.

Catching glimpses of golden windows open despite the sudden drizzle tapping the roof, you saw blinks of life; a table filled with food with a family surrounding it, a woman painting on her living room, and even a cat lazily lying in the backrest of a couch.

You hoped that this scene, with Viktor next to you and a tiny glass table filled with desserts and coffee could look just as inviting. Just as real.

“Do you like it?” Viktor asked, and you knew he didn’t mean the sweet, braided swirl chocolate bread he had bought you.

“I’ve never seen so many things before,” you said, blowing into your cup of coffee. “It feels… alive.”

Viktor chuckled. “Sometimes too alive.” He shrugged. “But I understand. Piltover the Old is… well, old. Both the architecture and the people made you believe as if you'd been trapped in time there that when you get out, it feels as if things move too fast.”

You looked at him. “You don’t like the city,” you pointed out instead of asking.

His golden eyes didn’t meet yours anymore. “It has its charms.”

“Do you miss back home? The sea?” Part of you felt as if it would be hard to sleep without the constant roar of the ocean surrounding you.

Viktor reclined on his seat, barely taking crumbs out of his slice of fruitcake. “If I can be honest with you, I don’t think I’ve ever considered myself at home,” he said softly. “Not here, not there.”

You interlaced your fingers in your lap. “I feel the same way,” you confessed, not wanting him to feel embarrassed. “Of course, this is the first time that I leave Piltover the Old, but…" You shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose one day I will be able to be somewhere and just feel the pull. The realization that I’m finally home.”

Viktor smiled, his eyes sweeping over the city landscape. “I feel the same way, Miss.” Taking his cup of coffee, he extended it toward yours. “I hope we can both find such a call, someday."

The porcelain clinked together when you cheered, the noise like bells staying much longer than it was supposed to.

*~*~*~*

Unknown to you, that night was the best rest you’d have in so long. Encountering you dumbfounded once Viktor knocked on your door the next morning, his thick morning accent poured into your sleepy brain telling you that it was almost 8 AM.

“I’m awake,” you told him, voice groggy.

“Can I come in?” Viktor said, and any remnants of sleep evaporated from your mind. “I didn’t take my suit out yesterday.”

Oh. Of course. Looking at your dress, you nodded. But he couldn’t see your nod with the door closed. “Yes, of course.” The blankets were soft and smelled like soap when you covered yourself with them, peeking at his figure wearing mismatched pajama pants and a long-sleeved shirt when he entered.

He looked once at you, nodding thankfully as he made his way toward the closet, eyes glued on everything but you. Between the friction of hooks and clothes, he produced a brown suit jacket with some pants folded underneath, the color so dark for a moment you thought it was black.

From another hanger, he grabbed a cream vest and a white dress shirt. Viktor turned, closing the closet doors before backtracking. “Eh, yes, yes. The tie,” he mumbled, looking at you from the corner of his eye, cheeks slightly red from having witnessed of his self-chatting.

Tossing a red tie atop the clothes hugged against his chest, he turned back to the exit. “I will be going now—” Viktor started, looking at the dress that had been hiding behind the door. “That is such a pretty dress, Miss,” he commented, looking up and down at it before turning the knob open.

“Thank you. It was my mother’s.”

He looked at you, his stance frozen on the threshold. “Have you ever imagined her in your wedding?” Viktor asked tentatively.

“I’ve never imagined I’d get married by my volition, so no. Not really.” What was the point anyway? “Death can’t return her to me anyway.” But part of you hoped that somehow, somewhere, she could be a little bit proud of seeing you here, in the city she inhabited before the sea called her back.

You didn’t even know if you wanted to have her with you. Would she have lied to you like your family did to protect you?

“If she was a student in the University, then there has to be some registers about her in the archive,” Viktor told you. “We can go there later. What do you say?”

Your aunt's words drilled into your skull, making your heart squeeze painfully. An unknown father, a mother given to the sea. A childhood filled with lies.

“No, it’s alright.” You forced a smile. “Maybe on another occasion.”

His golden eyes froze in your face, eyebrows furrowed just slightly, just for a moment. “Very well. I will let you change, then. We’re meant to leave to the notary in an hour.”

The mental clock ticking by his words didn’t help with your nerves, but you thanked him nevertheless. Not even the cold bath could soothe you, taking double the time to slip inside the dress and try to reach the tiny buttons aligned at your back.

Now it dawned on you the curiosity of why your mother had a wedding dress. Seeing you dressed in it, you pictured her twirling in a mirror on a boutique, a dreamy smile on an unknown face as she hoped to walk down the aisle toward your father, perhaps. Another faceless person it didn’t matter to grieve about.

Or so you tried to convince yourself.

What a useless thing to long for something it never was.

You entered the living room, Viktor sitting in front of the coffee table as he ate tiny bites of a slice of toasted bread covered with yogurt, the smell of newly made coffee flooding from the open door of the kitchen, a half-empty bowl of sliced fruit next to yours that was still completely covered in a mountain of sliced strawberry, peach, and pear.

He must’ve woken up around two hours ago if he had prepared all this and finished dressing already. The only thing missing was his jacket and his shoes which were aligned at the doormat entrance, files of the needed papers ready to go over the bookshelf.

You sat next to him, his fingers grazing yours when he passed you the breakfast. From the purplish eyebags adorning his golden eyes, you thought it was a mercy he had so many things to prepare in the morning, allowing him to get up instead of rolling away, trying with no luck to catch slumber.

You ate in silence, feeling your throat strained with nervousness. Quickly, you both shared the bathroom to brush your teeth, Viktor leaving you alone as you finished preparing.

Finally, around 9:26 AM, Viktor gazed at you when you walked toward the entrance door of the apartment, finding it weird to see his hair brushed back, with barely some locks poking rebelliously against his brow.

“The dress suits you,” he commented on your way down the stairs. “If you’d allow me to say that.”

Your steps faltered. “Oh, that’s right!” you exclaimed, waiting for him to descend all the stairs. “Can you help me button it up? I just missed the middle buttons.”

Viktor chuckled, gesturing you to turn around in the empty corner of the landing. It was too late for the rest of the residents to linger in their houses on a weekday. He gave you his cane to hold, his hands brushing your back slightly as he pinched the buttons inside the grommets.

You took in his presence, feeling his warmth bathing you, the essence of his shampoo smelling like a fresh breeze sweeping by the coast.

“There you go,” Viktor muttered, his breath moving the hair around your ear. You shivered, walking away from him. “Are you cold?” he asked, blinking with confusion knitting his eyebrows. “I can give you my jacket—”

“No, no.” You raised the unmatching muddy green coat and hugged it against your chest as if he could feel how your heart was picking up speed if you didn't. “I have this.”

Yanking the door open, you hoped the cold morning could calm down the frenetic rhythm reverberating in your ears, but it was all in vain when you ended up sitting next to him in what Viktor told you, was called a trolley car. The movement of the vehicle stopping and starting again at each public stop made your body press against him as the strange train moved its way up the city.

“The University is here,” Viktor chatted, trying to soothe your nerves as he fiddled with the handle of his cane. He pointed to the glass, where you could see a big, gothic-like building hiding the sun behind its high towers. People were walking inside, its courtyard made of neatly cut grass and tiny trees. All of them held books as they walked, both alone and in animated groups toward the cobblestone path that connected a pair of double doors with the outside. "This is the main building, but the rest of the faculties are behind it. You can't see it all from here."

“It’s gigantic,” you said, trying to take in all the details as the car moved away.

“Indeed it is. You have to be careful not to lose in the hallways,” he chuckled. “Or you’ll be late to class.”

"Where does the entrance exam take place?"

Viktor signaled out the window again. “In the main building.” His hand hovered over yours, interlaced on your lap. This time, he poked one with his finger. “You’ll see it for yourself soon enough.”

Embarrassed, you giggled. “I hope so.”

“Have more faith in yourself,” Viktor added, leaning slightly against you so your shoulder brushed his. “I believe you can do it.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Viktor…” you said in a hushed tone to not wake up the working man next to you, his uniform covered in coal and oil from his shift in a factory. “Thank you. For trusting me.”

Your gazes connected, and it felt as if he could rival the morning sun, the gold in his eyes twinkling like pools of honey poured in a teacup; reassuring and warmth.

"Couldn't be any other way."

*~*~*~*

The notary had a tiny chapel, barely decorated with candles whose wax had made them amorph, some of them cocooned in hollow wax ponds. The red carpet where you walked down the aisle alongside Viktor was worn out and thin, but neither of your steps faltered, the official papers tucked in a file under his arm.

You don’t have to do this, you repeated Viktor’s words, as you’d been doing ever since you entered this seemingly deserted building on a Wednesday morning, hand in his. But you wanted to, thrill pooling in a chaos inside your belly that almost felt like fluttering. Of all the scenes you could picture a marriage in, this was the most interesting. Almost funny how surreal it was.

You would've been so lucky if this was sincere, a childish part of you longed.

But it wasn’t, and foolish was it to lament for things that never were.

The officiant smiled at you two, Viktor taking your hands into his as he asked him if he could give you two his blessing—as no other one could.

You took in a deep breath, pride filling your stomach now that you could do something your mother yearned for. Fulfilling another’s dream, but your way.

His golden eyes sparkled with the dancing flames of the candles, his fingers interlaced with yours as he looked down at you, the officiant’s voice echoing in the empty seats and closed doors.

“Will you have Y/N to be your wife? To love her, comfort, and keep, and forsaking all others remain true to her, as long as you both shall live?”

Viktor nodded, looking from the pastor to you. “I will.” The squeeze of his hand made your eyes swept away, the room getting too hot from all the candles lit and no windows open.

“I promise to keep you safe even when the storm is raging outside,” Viktor said, his tone gentle yet confident. Just as his muttered words of solace back at the cliff. “To accompany you in each dreary night watch, for I will be here as long as you need me to.”

You felt a lump in your throat that made it difficult to breathe without having your voice broken.

"Thank you," you couldn't stop from saying, which made him smile. His thumb brushed away a stray tear running down your cheek.

“Will you have Viktor to be your husband? To love him, comfort, and keep, and forsaking all others remain true to him, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do—I will,” you said, finding your throat dry. Viktor nodded, encouraging you silently. “I take you as my husband. To be your best friend when you’re seeking a friend. To light up the way back home if you ever get lost. I’ll be there, always.”

His gaze was hard to read, brows pinched and eyes squinting, blinking away in a tender smile. “Thank you, love,” Viktor said.

The officiant had the papers laid over the table, his pen scribbling away at the paper the complete names of you both. You glanced at the words Viktor Ambroz right next to yours when it was your turn to sign the papers.

“For the power given to me, I declare you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride, young man. Congratulations.”

The officiant busied himself with registering the marriage in his ledgers, Viktor right in front of you. His eyes said the same plea repeating in your mind, you don’t have to do this.

But you nodded nevertheless, looking back at the officiant as if saying that it would be weird if you didn’t kiss.

In reality, you were curious about what would happen next. Finding refuge in the dimming room, Viktor couldn’t see your flustered expression if he proceeded, nor your unfiltered hurt if he chose not to.

Viktor took in a deep breath, taking your hands into his as he pulled you slightly closer, cold fingers brushing your trembling ones. His eyes seemed to read your soul from how close they were, speckles of amber and brown mixed on his irises, honey, and chocolate that felt just as sweet when he gazed down at your lips.

Suddenly shy, you closed your eyes, feeling the brush of his eyelashes when he did the same.

He leaned in and brushed his lips with yours, barely a fleeting motion, the friction making you dizzy. Viktor stayed there a second too long, or so you thought, the world seemed to stop, just as your breath and your heartbeat.

A gasp rippled through his chest when he pulled away, the orange hue of the candles letting you see the wild red blush creeping from his ears down his neck.

The officiant gave you the papers, a beam as he congratulated you both once again.

“Let’s go, my dear, We have the whole day ahead of us to celebrate.” He smiled, taking your hand to drag you away.

If the officiant found it weird that any of you had said 'I love you', to each other, he didn't comment on it, the register was sealed official by his signature, filled with already dried ink. All opportunities of turning back were now locked away in the corresponding ledger, the leather book put inside the archive where the shadows would watch over it from the time being.

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