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#dima solo
solopostings · 17 days
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Sealing the Phantom Away.
a collab short story w/ @robbietech !
- - -
"This is the area... underneath our feet." Salem kneeled down, his hand flat against the hot desert sand.
Behind him were Dima and Amadeus. Weapons in hand ready to protect him with their lives.
"Down below... like where my guardian is?" Amadeus raised his eyebrow, resting against his ancient spear.
"Yes... he hides in the depths filled with that dark... malice, you called it?" Salem stood back up, dusting off the sand from his robe.
Dima remained silent, dreading the heat quietly to himself.
"How do we get down there? I can get one of my guardians and—"
"Won't be necessary." Salem hummed, "I can warp us straight down... but we must go through a strategy first."
Salem sat down in the air, levitating as he opens a book that appeared out of thin air.
"You two will have to keep him busy while I draw the seal." Salem flipped the book to show the other two.
"Well damn, how long is that gonna take ya? Y'know Ravii isn't the weakest enemy." Amadeus titled his head. irritation lacing his words.
"We will do what we can." Dima finally spoke up, "For as long as it takes."
Salem closed the book, waving his hand to make it disappear.
"I'll remain hidden with a cloaking spell. As for you two. Sneak up behind him and strike. I'll be fast... I'm quite the quick spell caster, you know." A smirk arched Salem's lips. mischief in that smile.
"So, we distract him and... then what?"
Salem looked at Amadeus, "When you see me disappear in the shadows once again... that is the signal to get him within the circle.
... But we will need something to hold him down. Something powerful to hold him..."
The three remained silent in thought.
Dima bit his cheek.
He knew what would do the job.
"His sword. It was meant to kill a Dominis. But with the strength he has now, it would only stun him... you can leave that part to me."
Salem's eyes widened at the Zephyr; he was known as the Sword of the Dominis. The Protector. Their Shield. Generations of protecting that family.
... would he truly be up to the task at hand?
"Are you sure about it? Deus could—"
"No." Dima turned his head away, "I am the one who should do it."
Amadeus and Salem glanced at each other. Salem nodded in return, drawing his attention back to Dima.
"The Kingdom will be counting on you, Dima. You realize this, right? We have one chance to do this... if you fail..."
"I won't fail. You put your trust in me. Let me do it."
Amadeus bit his cheek — apart of him was relieved he didn't have to do the final blow. He couldn't live with that guilt.
As much as he hated him, a part of him was still a friend for quite some time now. Amadeus knew this was the only way. There was no saving Ravii from Ganondorf's clutches.
He was too far gone.
Sighing, the Yiga moved his spear from the sand, "Auuugh! Let's get this over with before it gets dark."
Before he had a change of heart.
Salem nodded, "All ready?"
The other two nodded.
That was all the sign he needed.
Salem muttered a spell, holding his index and middle finger up to his forehead. Opening his eyes wide, they turned a bright orange.
Sending the three deep, deep down below.
- - -
Below the surface, deep down under the harsh heat of the Gerudo Desert... where the giant Dark Skelton was, that is where he hid.
Salem placed his finger to his mouth, waving his free hand to cast a cloaking spell on all of them. He then made his move to hide away.
Far from them to begin drawing the sealing circle.
Ravii's final resting place.
Then that is where they found the king...
Without warning, the two ran into battle. Fighting under the skeleton of what most likely used to be a leviathan below.
A surprise attack by Amadeus was first. Jumping into the air and slamming his ancient spear next to the Glacian. Dima was quick on his feet — seconds behind as he attacked Ravii from the other side.
Ravii suddenly jumped up, turning on his heel to look at them both. Opening his hand — two blades formed in his grasp.
The Sword of the Goddesses and a curved Gerudo scimitar. Similar to what Urbosa wielded. Yet the tip was edged. A stab from this one would hurt much, much more.
"So you found me after all... traitors." Ravii clenched his jaw, glaring at both.
Amadeus ; once he could call him a true friend. He saved his life, Ravii always returned the favor after that.
Dima ; his sword Sword. His protector. His right hand. His Knight. Now fighting against him. As a Fierce Deity, no less.
Ravii recognized the markings on both of them...
Meaning Salem was nearby... but where?
"Where is he hiding? That vile man..." Ravii ran towards Dima first, slamming his swords down at the knight's blade.
Amadeus rushed on the other side, but with a quick movement, Ravii spun around to dodge the Yiga's attack.
Perhaps it was not smart to fight with the techniques he showed him a long time ago.
The two Champions fought against the Phantom for a while. Taking turns trying to tire him out. But each attack seemed to be all in vain. The Phantom was fast on his feet. Returning attacks and dodging with ease.
He knew them. How they moved. How they attacked.
Ravii was good. too good. He fought like a Gerudo warrior with two blades. One in each hand. He was quick and almost too elegant the way he moved.
Truly trained by the Gerudo in his younger years.
Amadeus struck his spear against one blade as Dima slammed his own sword against the other in Ravii's grip.
"Is that all you two have? I'm growing bored." Ravii laughed as he spun again, causing the tip of his blades to hit the ground. A spark was casted. a sign of something.
"Run!" Amadeus yelled — he knew that move.
Dima jumped back as lightning struck down inches away from the Zephyr and the Yiga. Amadeus slammed his spear on the ground, swinging himself away from the strike. Grumbling as he wiped his mouth.
"You're not makin' it easy, huh?" Amadeus growled.
Ravii held up both blades in a familiar manner. His Sword of the Goddesses in one hand over his forehead and the Gerudo scimitar by his mouth. tainted by his own gloom — making it nearly impossible to break while he wields it.
Hiding the wide smile he had.
despite it all... Ravii was having fun.
Salem was nearly done drawing the seal circle as the other two kept the king busy. The Islean looked at the book in his hand, back to the ground. Taking a deep breath, Salem stood up. Checking it one last time.
... It was done.
All he needed now was Ravii to stay within this circle.
Amadeus glanced quickly at Salem, seeing him hiding back within the shadows.
Ah! That was the sign.
With his Sheikah like speed, Amadeus ran toward Ravii, kicking the scimitar out of his hand. Ravii growled, losing his momentum. Swinging the sword a bit too madly.
Amadeus dodged every swing, jumping backwards closer and closer to the sealing circle. Ravii, blind with rage, followed him without even realizing.
Dima stayed behind Amadeus until ready.
"Now!" Amadeus yelled as he quickly tripped Ravii with his ancient spear. Grabbing the Sword of the Goddesses from his hand... throwing it up into the air.
Dima ran quickly behind him and leaped into the air, grabbing the sword and slamming it down.
Ravii gasped, suddenly freezing into place. His head slowly narrowed down at the sight. His own sword stabbed his chest.
It was as if time stopped — everything went silent.
Ravii tried to pull it out. However, Dima kept a firm grip, making sure the blade stayed put.
There, out of the shadows, slowly emerged the Zaquatis. His eyes glowed a bright orange within the darkness.
Salem waved his free hand, and the other was making the old ancient book hover in the air. a familiar green and purple aura surrounded the book.
It was Salem's turn to shine.
The circle drawn by the Islean himself began to glow around Ravii. Green mist emerged from it, sinking deep within Ravii's wound from the sword.
This is how he was going to be sealed away.
"All of you will regret your actions!" Ravii screeched as Dima pushed the sword deeper, "I was going to make Hyrule better!"
Dima's hands trembled as he had to keep hold while the mage from afar held out his hand. Muttering a spell in his own tongue whilst green magic came from the sword now. Sealing the Glacian's fate before their eyes.
Ravii's eyes widened, unable to move his limbs any longer. Frozen. His back arched back, standing on his feet. Feeling he was going to fall backward, yet something felt to hold him up.
The pain of his own blade pierced through his chest by the man who swore to protect him. He eyed him one last time — seeing Dima's face. Marks of the Fierce Deity.
How awful it was having everyone against him.
... he couldn't understand why. he was only making Hyrule better. he was promised by Ganondorf himself.
Salem waved his hand and clapped loudly. His spell was casted — Ravii was sealed to the sword.
... Stuck there for all eternity.
"When I.... awaken again..." Ravii slowly moved his hands away from the sword.
"... I will.... hunt you all down and..." His words faded. falling silent as he stood there frozen in time.
Dima stumbled backward and slumped next to Ravii, his head in his hands as he clenched his jaw.
"I swore to protect the Dominis..." Dima whispered to himself, "... not kill them."
Amadeus took a long, deep breath, leaning against his ancient spear, "Is it over?"
Salem closed his eyes to take a moment to rest. This magic was not his everyday spells — this took a lot out of him, "Yes... it should be over now."
The three remained silent.
Until the earth began to rumble.
Shaking under their feet.
"He's trying to kill us with his last breath!" Salem gasped, looking up at the rocks from above beginning to fall.
"Dammit, we need to leave now." Amadeus grabbed Salem's arm and started running. Salem's life was the most important in the Champion's eyes. His instinct to protect shining through.
Dima, still in shock of what he has done, stayed sitting down. His hands still cover his face.
Salem skid to a stop, turning to look at Dima, "We must leave! You will be taken out if we stay any longer!"
Dima didn't budge. Slowly glancing at Ravii's frozen stance of him screaming in pain. That expression of betrayal. anger... was stuck there for all eternity... because of him.
"I can't leave his side..." Dima whispered under his breath.
Salem shook his head, muttering another spell. He shouldn't have done this again after that last one, but...
As he waved his hand, the three disappeared in green mist. Quickly flying up back to the surface.
If they were any later, they would have been crushed by the falling rocks. Everything was shut in.
Ravii was not reachable now in the depths no matter where one went.
When back on the surface, Salem stumbled against the stone wall. Amadeus immediately rushed to his side, helping him stand.
"Ya should have left him!" Amadeus gritted his teeth as he glared at Dima. The knight stood there staring at his shaking hands.
"No... I will not leave anyone who has helped me behind, Champion." Salem smiled weakly as he glanced at the Zephyr.
Truthfully, Salem could feel the sorrow deep within Dima's soul. It cried. Begged to be forgiven.
Salem slowly walked to Dima, placing his hand on his shoulder, "... go home. Your family needs you just as you need them."
The knight slowly drew his saddened gaze to Salem. tears building up in his eyes.
"She will not forgive me for doing what I have done..."
"Yeah, she will. Her damn brother nearly killed us all... again." Amadeus walked over and kicked the desert sand. a small fit of rage still within him.
"We saved the kingdom, Dima! What's your damn problem?!"
"You're hurt too, Deus." Salem chimed in as he pointed at him. Amadeus was taken aback. His eyes widened slightly.
"You saw him as a friend. someone to trust and take care of... you felt betrayed." The Zaquatis spoke softly. "He betrayed all of our trust. We are all hurting today... not just Dima."
Amadeus clicked his tongue, turning his head away.
... he wasn't wrong. by hylia above, Amadeus was hurt the most. Months prior, he was laughing, having drinks with the man, enjoying the time they had. He was the best friend he never thought he could have.
He even trusted him with Suki and Imara;
... his own daughters.
It was the sudden shift in everything. That grip Ganondorf still had of him that got Ravii to turn on all of them.
Amadeus was the first to get the worst of it, as always.
Salem places his hand over his heart, closing his eyes, "We must make a promise to speak of this to no one... not even our little ones. For their safety."
Amadeus sighs, ".... Suki is gonna wonder where he went. Imara is too young to remember him anyway." The look in his eye was no longer anger — rather, the look of heartbreak.
"Say he went back home for good. She is still young, after all... she may forget with time." Sighing, Salem shook his head.
"... we should head back home now. Thank you both for your help."
Dima and Amadeus nodded.
The three walked their separate ways.
The weight of dread all felt heavy on their shoulders.
Dima killed his own king.
Amadeus helped seal away one of his best friends.
Salem... he felt too guilty of truly killing him. His good nature took the best of him; he could admit that. only to himself.
Leaving Ravii in a frozen state of pain instead.
Perhaps... perhaps death was a better choice.
Either way, it mattered not. No one could break that spell, seeing he was the only person who could read the spell anyway.
No one else could read Islean, after all...
He would stay sealed forever.
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fauville · 2 months
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what if i killed myself
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Dimartino in Cara Maestra Abbiamo Perso che dice “cara maestra (...) voglio che rimani ancora qui con me stanotte / ho bisogno di sentirti ancora mia / anche se non guido come l'altro / se non fumo come l'altro /voglio farti compagnia” 
e poi “e avevo perso la mia anima / la mia anima a noleggio / su un bancone della carne / o tra le gambe di una ragazza, il giorno della festa”
e ancora “mi hai detto: / ‘tu non capisci la poesia / sei fatto solo per scopare’ “
he’s so slutty and for what
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mchiti · 3 months
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Vorrei solo ricordare a tutti che Ghali è stata la prima rappresentazione nordafricana in Italia. A quei livelli, con quel successo…non so, immaginate che significa vedere qualcuno che parla i tuoi linguaggi e che li porta in alto dandogli legittimità. È da una decade che continua a farlo! C’è anche questa Italia e non è più invisibile. Khouya nmout 3lik ti voglio un bene dell’anima da anni. ana dima m3ak. Llah y barik fik 🤲🏼💗
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preciouslandmermaid · 10 months
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quiet fury in your head [vi]
Dream of the Endless x F!Reader!Goddess / Sandman Fanfiction
Note: Dream is a bit of a voyeur in this one!! The Goddess discovers the fate of the betrayer & Dream is in denial about his feelings, tbh. No use of Y/N. See part 1 for all the tags tbh.
Warnings: accidental voyeurism (kinda?), solo masturbation 
Rating: 18+
(Read on AO3)    ||   (masterpost for other chapters)  
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As a rule born from pure pettiness – you reject any “gifts” the Dream King offers during your years of servitude. You avoid the castle. You avoid the room he gave you and its extensive wardrobe. You do not sleep within the marble walls. You barely speak to the Dreaming’s citizens. They know you—of course they do—and they still whisper your old name “Queen of Nightmares.” But even as they whisper your title: they build no effigies in your honor, they sing no songs, or slaughter animals.
Ultimately, they aren’t your worshipers, they aren’t your friends, and they are a poor substitute for the family you lost.
And yet...you find yourself strolling through the impressive, towering shelves of the library. The air is filled with dead tress and your eyes prickle with heat. Oral traditions had been the norm during your time as a Goddess. What use did cutting down trees and smashing them to pulp have? You pull a book from the shelf and leaf through the pages. The scribbles are nonsense to you.
“Lady,” A scholarly black woman greets you with a respectful nod of her bald head, “I wondered if you might pass through here.”
You snap the book shut and slide it back into the shelf.
“I don’t know why I’m here,” You admit abrupt and honest. What was I seeking? Answers? Hope that my sister’s names are written somewhere in this library? How would that serve me? How could it serve me when I can make no sense of these drawings on the page?
Lucienne adjusts her round glasses, “Does there need to be a reason?” She smiles softly. “You can come here anytime you like. It’s quiet here—which I like—and there’s so much…” Her neck cranes upward while she admires the imposing shelves.  
“Perhaps you might be interested in…” Lucienne’s voice trails off. You are gone. She had not even heard you leave.
*********
Another day, a different one, when the skies are as pink as a newborn chick. The cold breeze tickles your exposed skin as you walk through fluffy, blush-hued clouds. You look up and the world flips, as simple as that, and you find yourself standing before a hut made of thunderclouds.
“Don’t get visitors up this way.” A voice says from within before they materialize through the gray, bulbous clouds and stand in front of you. Her thin body is cerulean and her veins flash in brief, sharp bursts of lightening. Her short, white dress moves with the wind.
You purse your lips, “Have I intruded?”
“Not at all, My Queen.” She bows her head respectfully and places one hand over her heart. You are painfully reminded of a similar pose you once gave to your sister, Badb, when you bravely and foolishly proclaimed that you would fight Fate and save your people.
“I appreciate the visit. You may call me Dima.” She says.
“I am not your queen.” You reply stiffly.
Dima shrugs. Her movements echo with rumbling thunder. “I knew you… and have known you for many years...” She waves her arm and the clouds shift, responding to her call, and form two chairs. Dima sits and gestures for you to do the same.
You narrow your eyes. The war of curiosity and caution battles within. No harm has come to me within the Dreaming. You sit in the soft chair Dima has provided.
“I brought the storm that day.” Dima explains softly, her pure-white eyes flash with the energy of a hundred storms. You don’t need her to clarify. You feel the mud beneath your knees. You feel Lugh’s spear. You hear Badb’s ravens—crying out. The rain, the thunder, the rage. You remember all of it.
You harden your heart and tear your eyes away from Dima.
“I am sorry for what became of them.”
“Are you?” You snap, your heart sore.
“I am.” Her voice is gentle and reminds you of the soft patter-patter of rainfall against a thatch roof.  “I would bring you a thousand storms, my queen, if I believed it would help.”
You laugh dryly, meeting her electric eyes, “Would you drown the world if I asked it?” You pour all your heartache and rage into that single question. Let the world drown, let the new Gods sink and the Old Gods be reborn. Curse these mortals for forgetting you. Curse them all.
Dima doesn’t flinch. “I would.”
You recline and fold your arms across your chest. “Why are you offering such loyalty to me?” You trusted Lugh and he betrayed you. You trusted your worshipers, yet they stopped calling your name, and let you and your sisters turn to dust. They were overtaken by another faith, but you could not scrub that feeling of betrayal from your skin. You would not make the same mistake twice.
Dima smiles, her teeth as white as the dress she wears, “Because I can feel the storm brewing inside you...for like calls to like. Storm to rage, rage to storm.”
Despite your best efforts, your lips twitch upward. Dima’s forthright and confident attitude is something you appreciate. And it has been centuries since you could call upon someone (Morpheus does not count. He is your keeper and is intent on letting you serve your sentence for however he sees fit. You doubt he would come if you called).
Dima isn’t your friend, but she is not wholly a stranger either. The air thickens with the scent of the ozone and an impending storm. The clouds around you darken into a thick, heavy gray like ash and smoke. You lightly touch the center of your chest—the place where your own storm lives—and a boom of thunder carries out across the field.
*********
A whisper carries through the Dreaming: Morpheus left for an Odyssey. No one can say for how long he will be gone. Or when he will return. You take the opportunity to enter the castle for the second time in years. There is no risk of Dream seeing you, though one of his ravens will likely tattle. You slip through the corridors barefoot on quick, silent feet. You open the door to the room. Your room. Your jail cell. Your tomb—if Dream hadn’t saved you from Lugh’s poison.
Starlight drips from the ceiling and illuminates the room. Your bed is large, lavish, with purple silk pillow cases and black sheets. It is bare of any decorations or trinkets. You inhale deeply. The scents of jasmine and lavender fill your nostrils. Your heart flutters and heat prickles across the nape of your neck. The moonlit forest. The feather-light touch of Dream’s lips on yours. You push the thought from your mind and ignore the tightening of your abdomen.
You pull open the doors to the closet. The dresses and cloaks drape from their hangers. They are pristine. Elegant. Fit for a queen, you think with a sardonic twist of your mouth. The closet deepens. The clothes vary in style and material and color. You find a plain looking black traveling cloak. This will do for the next time I visit Dima. You drape the cloak over your shoulders and fasten the silver, raven’s head clasp. The interior lining of the cloak is buttery soft and smooth where it touches your skin. A small shiver of delight courses through you followed by a lick of hot, burning shame. I told myself I would never accept anything Dream offered to me and yet, I have made myself a liar.
You catch your reflection in the mirror hanging from the closet door. You do not recognize the woman standing in front of you. There is no triumph in her gaze, no glorious smile, and Macha and Badb do not stand beside her as they always have. You trail your fingertips through the empty air. Their absence aches through you like an old wound. A broken bone that has set incorrectly. A black tumor that won’t kill you as it presses into your organs.
You lean your forehead into the glass and close your eyes.
*********
Lucienne looks up at you, her glasses perched on her nose, and her face softens with her smile.
“I was afraid you might not return.”
“Your fears were not misplaced. I almost changed my mind a dozen times before entering.” You slide your hands into the pockets of your cloak, “I have need of your assistance, Lucienne.”
She carefully closes the book she was repairing, “Of course. What do you need, my lady?”
*********
Lucienne sits across from you at a small, wooden table within the library. Although you haven’t kept track of time—there’s no point within the Dreaming when time is fluid and meaningless—but you suspect that it’s been several hours since Lucienne began teaching you how to read and write.
“This,” she tapped her finger against the page, “is the letter phi.”
You trace the letter. Your fingertips are stained with ink. You don’t know why your powers don’t extend into omnipotent literacy. But, if you want to learn what became of Lugh and the others, then you need to be able to read and understand the scribbles on the pages. Your pride will not allow you to ask Lucienne to find the appropriate book and read it to you. And besides, working with Lucienne helps to fill the time. She makes for tender, quiet company. It is a nice contrast to your visits with Dima, the bold and loud Storm-Weaver.
Lucienne says, “I have a question if I may.”
“Hm?” You struggle to trace the next letter, “I’m listening.”
“Will you return to the library?”
Your brow furrows. A curious question. You glance up from your work. The orange candlelight flickers across Lucienne’s smooth, dark skin and reflects in the circular lenses of her glasses. You set your brush down and straighten your shoulders.  
“Clarify.”
“Dream will return eventually.” She says, “And I’ve noticed that you tend to avoid the castle.” Lucienne tilts her head to the side. “And now you’ve come when he’s away on odyssey.”
“Generally, the Dream Lord and I avoid each other.”
“Unless he needs you.” Lucienne guesses.
“It’s a big castle,” You pick up the thin paintbrush again, “I will return, Lucienne.”
“Oh,” She replies softly and her tone is pleased, “Good.”
*********
You tuck yourself into one of the cozier corners of the library with your cloak wrapped around your frame and a book open in your lap. You trace your fingers across the green and gold cover. It took some seeking but Lucienne assured you this was the right one. The Dolmens of Ireland by William Borlase, 1897. This is where your answers would be found. A record of Lugh’s fate. The God who betrayed you and accepted sainthood.
Your pulse thumps through your fingertips and inside the hollow dip of your jaw. You flip through the pages until you come upon grave of Saint Molaga.
“Although this stone is known from the Christian era as the cover slab of the grave of St. Molaga, it probably predates the saint by many centuries.” You scan through the rest of the page, “Mo is a prefix and Logha relates to the name of the Pagan divinity Lugh. Therefore, this site is the ‘Bed of the holy Lugh,'”
Your throat tightens. Lugh was given a new life after all. He became a saint. They changed his name and built new places in his honor. There are legends to his name. They gave him a grave.
He lived while you and your sisters were forgotten. The painful prickle crawls up your throat and hot tears glide down your cheeks. You close the book and clench your fingers around it until your knuckles go white. You stare, unseeing, at the shelf in front of you as grief wrecks through your body in painful, sharp stabs.  
Part of me...believed that Lugh did not survive the battle. That he did not get his Sainthood. That those heretics, those interlopers, betrayed him as he betrayed us. But no. The truth feels like glass between your teeth. Lugh was victorious. No vengeful Goddess came and struck him down. He lived.
You cover your face with your trembling hands and taste salt.
*********
Dream stops short at the sight of you in the library. His hands twitch at his sides. The joy he feels upon seeing you wearing his cloak is short-lived. Your shoulders shake and a brief, pained whimper reaches his ears. Your sadness penetrates through the space of the Dreaming like a serrated blade. His chest aches. He wishes he could approach you, offer some comfort or solace, but he does not move. He remains in the shadows and shrinks further back and watches you through the slats of the bookshelves.
She belongs to Desire until her time here is done. He reminds himself. This could be one of Desire’s tricks. Their manipulations to make me...feel something...for her. Dream clenches his jaw. You inhale shakily and the book in your lap clatters to the floor.
“Bastard!” You curse, kicking its spine, before you get to your feet. Your sadness sharpens into anger. He tastes it like copper on his tongue. Your cloak swishes around you as you spin on your heel and storm from the library. He watches you leave and the ache in his chest grows.
His affections for you are poison, like a corrosive acid that gnaws at him. He cannot permit himself the luxury of caring for you. He cannot. He has his responsibilities as Lord of the Dreaming and he cannot trust you. You belong to Desire. You were their creation. He can’t trust his feelings as they war inside his chest. What would I say if I went to her? My own siblings are Endless. We lost Destruction, but that was...different.
Your grief-struck face burns into his mind. He touches the ring holding your power. It feels cold. Jessamy caws and flies down onto his shoulder. He gently scratches beneath Jessamy’s beak. He knows he could release you from his service at any time. But, the looming agony of your absence prevents him from finally letting you go. He’d rather you have you, even at pained awful distance, than lose you forever. You move through his Dreaming like a beacon of beautiful, radiant light and shadow. When he returned from his Odyssey, his heart had leapt at the knowledge that you were within the castle.
He walks to where you sat prior and picks the book up. He skims his fingers over the embossed title. She knows the truth. She knows Lugh was granted his Sainthood. Immortalized. Remembered. He sighs. The first few raindrops land softly against the windows of the library.
The words ‘I’m sorry’ are paltry and chalky on his tongue. Does his apology return your sisters? No. Does it soothe your grief? No. A dozen times he’s considered creating dreams in the image of Badb and Macha for your company. But he resists the urge. A dream, no matter how magnificent, could not replace the bond you shared with the two Gods.
And he thinks you might scorn him if he tried to give you a dream-version of your sisters. He would rather witness your sadness than endure your scorn. Dream returns the book to its place within the shelves.
“It’s good to have you back, my lord.” Lucienne says from behind him.
Dream gives her a noncommittal nod. Lucienne’s presence reminds him that there is work to be done. His odyssey took longer than he expected and it was time to refocus. He cannot think of you any longer—otherwise it would be a distraction.
*********
“I think you should come, it’ll be fun!” Dima proclaims. She kicks her blue feet through the water. The sunlight pours through the sky and glistens and shines off the flowing river. You peel your tattered dress over your head. The sting of Lugh’s survival bites at your heart. You are learning to live with the pain of it—though you refuse to shed anymore tears.
“I haven’t been to a revelry in a long, long time.”
Dima snorts, “They call them parties, Mor.”
You shrug and dip your toes into the cold, rushing water. Although Dream returned from his Odyssey some time ago, he has not called you. Nowadays, you spend time with Dima and learn with Lucienne (Lucienne started teaching you a language known as ‘Mandarin’).
While Morpheus is absent from your life. You wish his absence would make your heart yearn less, but it seems the opposite is true. You’ve found yourself glancing around the library during your lessons, seeking him, and instead feeling frustration and disappointment.
You wade through until the pebbled stones beneath your feet dip and the water is deep enough for you to swim. The current is cold and refreshing. A school of tiny silver fish dart past your legs. Dima continues talking about the upcoming party. She is a deluge of dialogue. Her words fast and leave no room for argument or dissent.  She reminds you of a younger version of yourself; bold, straightforward, quick and witty.
You cut through the water like a trout. The chill has enveloped you, prickling goosebumps across your flesh, puckering your nipples to hard, pebbled nubs. A flock of blackbirds land on a tree nearby and you float on your back, watching them, and wonder if Dream will attend this ‘party’ as well. Likely not. He does not seem the partying type.
*********
He uses the many eyes of the Dreaming to follow you. He watches you study with Lucienne, your brow furrowed, your teeth toying with your sweet lower lip. He watches you with Dima, the Storm-Weaver, and notices how her company has soothed some of your pain, some of your grief. You still do not smile or laugh, but your expressions are softer. You regard Dima with a...fondness...in your eyes. He clenches his jaw. It doesn’t matter if she takes Dima for a lover. She can do as she wishes. He could forbid it, of course. He could make it part of your punishment—that you cannot court or find release with any residents of the Dreaming. But, Dream resists the urge. Because there is a chance that...if you do take Dima for a lover...then you will return to the Dreaming after completing your final task for Desire. And I see her again within my own Realm.
One of his ravens has taken comfort among a family of smaller magpies. They squawk and flutter among the thin, wavering branches of a beautiful and lush tree. Dream freezes in the coordinator. His awareness is on his raven, seeing through her eyes, and he notices your naked, perfect body move through the river with Dima alongside you walking along the bank.
Dream swiftly teleports into his bedroom. His body trembles with desire as tight as a wire wrapping around his throat. He cannot bring his sight away. Selfishly, he connects himself to the water you’re swimming through. The sensation is like an electric jolt to his spine.
The heat spreads across the nape of his neck as his hand palms the front of his tight trousers. He feels you move through the water. Your thighs, your legs, your arms, and breasts. It feels as if you’re pressing your naked body against him. Every curve, every muscle, it glides against him like liquid desire. He shudders and presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth.
He unzips his trousers and pulls free his hard cock. I shouldn’t...but the thought quickly vanishes as he sees and feels you twirl through the water, the serpentine curve of your spine and swell of your ass visible to him.
He imagines your mouth on him—first your tongue—because he suspects that you appreciate the tease.
He hisses through his teeth and holds the base of his cock and slowly begins to pump his hand over it. He imagines your pebbled nipples brush against his lips. He imagines what sweet noises you might make for him when he suckles on your breast and nibbles your collarbone. His thumb swipes against the beading pre-cum at his tip and Dream catches the groan in his throat. His hand is a poor substitute for the warm, wet heat of your perfect mouth—but it’ll have to do.
He cannot have you, so he will settle for the fantasy. He imagines your tongue swiping over his tip before you draw him into your mouth, your cheeks hollowing, your starry eyes peering up at him through your thick lashes. He cups the back of your neck. You moan around him. Dream hisses, bucking his hips into his hand, his balls tightening. Your tongue flicks along the underside of his cock, massaging it, as you work your mouth over his hard length. He moans. He is no better than a moral man throwing himself at the feet of his beloved.
Your eyelashes flutter. His hand pumps faster—squeezing faintly. He switches the fantasy. He imagines bending you over his writing desk, your perky ass in the air, your went cunt on display. He wants to lick, to taste, but he denies himself the pleasure (even here, even within his own fantasy).
He spreads your legs and enters you ever-so-slowly, feeling you stretch and envelope him, before his hands are on your hips and his bedroom is filled with the sounds of your low, raspy moans. Dream bites his lip. His pulse pounds through his veins. The pace of his hand quickens and his eyes screw closed. Your cunt squeezes him. It’s perfect. A perfect fit. Your slick coats him, the lubrication deepening every stroke, and oh—yes—he goes deep. He holds your hips and drives into you in long, meticulous strokes. You cry out his name. Again and again. Morpheus. Morpheus. Dream’s cock twitches in his hand.
He feels each droplet of water as it glistens down your skin. He watches the sparkly droplets cling to your eyelashes and your delicate earlobe. In his fantasy, Dream bends over and nibbles your earlobe while his hand comes to find your clit between your legs. He squeezes his cock. He imagines you cumming around his cock, cunt tight, voice raw with screaming, rocking your hips back into him with every thrust. The Banshee Queen would be loud in love-making. Dream arches his pale neck, his jaw tight, his breath stuttering as his orgasm hits him.
His chest heaves with labored, his fingers are sticky and glistening, and he quickly returns his awareness to his raven—to watch you again—and you are climbing out onto the river bed. Dima hands you your flimsy dress. He watches it stick in places to your wet skin. He vanishes the mess he’s made, though the knowledge of what he did lingers. What’s done is done. She will no longer be a distraction for me. She is free from my mind. This will not happen again.
*********
You attend the revelry with Dima. It takes place within a crumbling stone and moss colossus. The bones of a giant is what Dima named it. The familiar sight of a bonfire and tables laden with food bring a small, bright comfort to your heart. These events have not changed in thousands of years. The drums reverberate through your bones. The honey wine melts on your tongue. Dima spins you, her skin flickers with lightening and briefly illuminating the space in sharp, blue-white flashes. Her smile white and brilliant. The world blurs into a kaleidoscope of colors, warm and cold, as fire smoke prickles your eyes.  
Someone is standing in the shadows. Someone tall and lean with wild dark hair and fathomless eyes. Dream? Dima spins you again. You return your eyes to the place you saw him. He is gone. Perhaps he was never there to begin with.
*********
Additional Note:  I resisted the urge to add Dima/Reader smooch at the end, but mostly because their relationship is like...platonic but borders on worship?? with Dima as the worshipper. So obviously the power dynamics there would be a little skewed. I might end up writing it for fun as a bonus chapter or something. the world can be healed with yuri love 
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duskbats · 2 years
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solo date with dima.
eden learned about dima’s archaeologist background and managed to work their ~vampire magic~ to send the both of them over to selvadorada for a day.
the two talked, danced, and flirted the day away and it all went very well.
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6lostgirl6 · 2 years
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Okay bestie. Me again. Could you please do a Bill and Ted one for me. Where the reader moves in next door to Bill and one day while him and Ted are practicing, they hear someone just shredding on guitar and they figure out it’s coming from next door and they knock and reader answers the door and Bill is just like “Woah” and he’s smitten. Maybe they eventually ask reader to help teach them how to play properly??
THANKS!!🖤🖤🖤
I hope you enjoy this one! <3
Smitten
Bill S Preston Esquire x Reader
TW: none
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It was another day of practice and Bill and Ted felt like they weren’t getting any closer to being the best band that ever lived according to Rufus. The notes didn’t sound right, their riffs could have been better. Essentially, their self-esteem was at an all time low. 
Bill sighed before sitting down, his guitar resting on his lap. “Ted, my most excellent friend, this completely blows.”
Ted continued standing there, looking down before leaning against the table, “I knew we should have gotten an Eddie Van Halen.” He muttered to himself. 
Bill glanced up at him, a furrow in his brow. “That was my idea, Ted.”
Ted stared at him for a second, his brain needing a second to buffer in order to comprehend what Bill was insinuating. “Oh yeah!” He said, smiling now that he understood. 
Bill looked at his guitar, touching the strings, “My friend, maybe we need-”
Suddenly, the silence was broken from the heavy shredding of a guitar that could be heard in the distance. Bill and Ted stopped as they continued to listen to the most bodacious sound that they ever heard. After listening for a minute, they realized it was the cover of one of Led Zeppelin’s greatest hits. 
Ted quickly placed down his guitar and while Bill stood up just as swiftly. What they were hearing was the most amazing sound they ever heard and they needed to know the excellent musician responsible for the epic sound. Therefore, there will be more hope for their band to get this person recruited. 
Bill opened his garage and walked outside. “That’s coming from next door!”
Bill knew that he had people move in next door, however he never saw anybody leave, therefore, he had no idea what he would be expecting. 
Ted stopped next to him before smiling, “Let’s check it out dude! We got a band member to catch!” Bill smiled as the two of them rushed off towards the new neighbor's house. 
_________
You were in your basement, standing with your guitar hooked into the amplifier as you played some notes. It was another day of practice and you were excited to continue playing where you left off from before the time you moved into San Dimas. Due to having to help move a multitude of heavy boxes and decorate the new house with your parents, you didn’t have time to practice. Finally after a few weeks of nonstop cleaning and decorating, your parents gave you some money to buy a new guitar since you lost your old one during the move. 
You smiled, finishing off your solo on your guitar before sitting down to write the notes in your journal where you keep your other songs. “This is gonna to be sick.” After you finished writing, you placed the pencil down and stood back up. Fixing your guitar pick, you were about to continue playing before you heard the doorbell ring. 
“Mom! Can you get that?” You yelled, staring upward towards the ceiling as you waited for her reply. After a second, you tried calling her again. However, after another few seconds of waiting, you sighed before getting up and putting your guitar down. 
“Nevermind!” You quickly walked up the stairs and headed towards the front door. Without checking the peephole, you opened the door and looked outside. 
There stood two good-looking boys. The taller one had black hair that almost reached his collarbone with a bright smile while the other one was shorter with short curly blonde hair. However, unlike his friend, he seemed to only stare at you. 
When you opened the door, Bill felt speechless. His throat seemingly filled with glue that refused to let the words that were rushing through his mind come through. You were extremely attractive, wearing a Led Zeppelin shirt. His heart felt like it grew three sizes and threatened to burst through his chest.
You could feel your face grow a little warm before giving a sheepish smile, “Can I help you?” You asked, looking between them. 
“Woah…” Bill could only respond.
Ted quickly elbowed his friend which knocked him out of his dazed expression. Bill realized what he said before his face completely flushed and he refused to look at you in case he fainted from nerves. “Hi, I’m Ted! This is Bill!” He motioned towards Bill which made you smile more now that you had names to the faces. 
“We were practicing for our band when we heard the most awesome riffs! We wanted to check it out!” 
Bill was extremely attractive, you felt a little embarrassed that he was able to hear you play. However, meeting people that were interested in music as much as you made you feel more at ease. You hoped you would be able to spend more time with him and his friend. 
You chuckled, leaning against the door. Such an action made Bill swallow, finding it extremely hot. “Yeah, that was me. Sorry,. I was just practicing as well! I hope I wasn’t ruining your practice!” 
Bill looked at you, completely interested. “Not at all! It was extremely excellent!” He shuffled a little before scratching the back of his neck. “What’s your name?”
“(Y/N)! I’m glad to meet fellow musicians in our neighborhood!” You said, looking between the two of them before looking towards Bill. 
Bill glanced at Ted before turning to you, “Do you think you could join us? We’re in a band and think you would be most excellent to be another member! If…you want to.” He started to feel a little shy, hoping that you wouldn’t turn down his offer. 
Ted smiled wide, “That’s a great idea, dude! What do you say?” He turned towards you, the smile never leaving his face. 
You smiled happily. After playing alone for a while, you missed having a band since leaving your friends and band members for San Dimas. 
“Sure! I would love to!” You said, glancing inside, “Let me grab my stuff and we can head out!” With that, you went inside and closed the door, leaving Bill and Ted waiting for you outside. 
Bill turned away, staring down the street with a slight worried look on his face. After a few seconds, Ted finally noticed before asking. “You okay, dude?”
Bill took a second to reply, “Dude…I think I’m in love.”
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gaysessuale · 1 year
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ed ecco che rosa ha deciso che far tenere sulle spalle il peso del festival solo a cola e dima era ingiusto quindi ha uscito il bop più devastante dell'umana stirpe
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dimalink · 9 months
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A note about group Camel and album Breathless
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So, I am a music fan. And, I listen different music. So, this is music note about band Camel. And two words about album Breathless.
And, I start listen to music band Camel, this summer. You know, camel. It is, as, I think, some friendly creature. In style of kind things. For example, soviet cartoons for kids. When ant goes to grasshopper. And say. Hello. Lets be friends. And music band Camel it is rather intelligence synthesizer sound. Not loud and crazy, a, just like, intelligence sound.
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And, in theory, they can release their records in Soviet Union. And, as minimum, I already, have some thing like this by sound as release, I have such old vinyl record. Someone from Emerson Lake And Palmer. Someone solo album. Keith Emerson, I think. He also has a synthesizer sound., Pop, rock. Record vinyl from Melodiya (Melody).
And, album has a friendly kind front cover. Camel is standing and watching some direction. And near, there are some ornament of future. Just like, it is synthesizers inside. Science fiction, in someway. Music, that was released is some Socialism stereotype. Retro 80s. So, kind. Here without blasters. Just camel. And, some, sci fi fragments of decoration in style of 70s and 80s.And I like a lot front cover.
And, I was, someway, surprised by title for the album. Breathless. No breath. And, I think, that it will be a dark record. And, it is absolutely another one – very positive. And it is about you stand still, because of some positive surprise you have. Good moment in life. So good, that even breath is interrupted for a moment. And I have this understanding.
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The thing, is that, band Camel has a different records. And dark records they also have. So, it is all the time more synthesizers, pop, rock music. Progressive rock, art rock. It is all the time. And the mood for album can be difference.
This album is very positive and sunny, as I get it from listening. There are songs about rainbow, about summer lighting, but it is positive and calm. About farm. It is about, country house, I think also. So, this way it is more close to you, if you have country house. There are even animals sounds on this track. So, it is kind song. Album is positive. It is full of sun. And some calm good waves about life. It is good and kind music record.
And Camel is strange about songs. There are lots of them without words. And sometimes, mainly, they can be without words. And, sometimes, often. And it happens, that they sing a songs. This way I remember Camel. So, this sunny summer, I discover to myself art of Camel. And I am listening one album after another.
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Dima Link is making retro videogames, apps, a little of music, write stories, and some retro more.
WEBSITE: http://www.dimalink.tv-games.ru/home_eng.html ITCHIO: https://dimalink.itch.io/ GAMEJOLT: https://gamejolt.com/@DimaLink/games
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dawningfairytale · 1 year
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✨i am abusing my polling privileges✨
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hlfmoonshine · 4 months
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a little name guide.
darius landon, as in 'dare-ee-ous' dima federov, despite his name being dimitri, pronouced as 'dee-ma' graceland kaya, 'gracelind' no hard a halen price, as in 'val halen'/'hay-lin' kyser collins, as in 'kaiser' leonidas hyde, leo always pronounced as 'lay-o' UNLESS using nickname 'leon' sanem togan, 'sah-nem' seraphina poriosolo, 'pori-o-solo'
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solopostings · 10 days
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The King and the Mage.
“Do I have to go?” Ravii clicked his tongue as he stood in front of the mirror. Dima – his right-hand man; his Sword – fixed up his cape. It was lighter than he was used to since Isla was a much, much warmer kingdom than Glacia. The young King hated wearing such light clothing ... but he had to do it.  
“You must go as the new king of Glacia. Make some sort of peace offering. Join the festivities and look... good.” Dima sighed. He, too, hated going there. But it was to make Glacia look good, after all. 
Ravii waved Dima away, fixing his own outfit. Taking a step away from the mirror he spun around, holding his arms out. 
“How do I look? Be honest with me, Dima.” Ravii grumbled, he was very much out of his comfort zone in this outfit. 
“... you look great.” Dima places his hands behind his back, scanning up and down. “Different, but good.” 
“Good enough. Let’s get this festival over with.” 
The Glacian walked past Dima, leading the way. Dima immediately followed behind him. Walking out into the streets of Isla. 
Just as Glacia in its own way – music was everywhere. The dance and music were different, but overall, it was still something Ravii enjoyed. This festival was meant for The Oracle. It was his birthday, one of the biggest events of the entire kingdom of Isla. 
The King of Isla, Amir Zaquatis, invited King Ravii to join in the festivities. Perhaps the last act of peace he could manage after the death of the late King and Queen. 
Everyone cheered when the royal Zaquatis siblings walked into the main square. The youngest son, Salem Zaquatis, waved at the crowd and eyed Ravii from where he stood. 
“Let us not forget our guest... the King of Glacia himself, Ravii Dominis.” Salem gracefully motions his hand, making the crowd all look at the Glacian.  
Ravii blinked. Unable to make a good move with such a callout. Of course he would put the spotlight on him. He didn't want to be noticed here at all. 
All Ravii could do in return was bow slightly with a nod. 
“Well, let’s not just stand there... start the music!” Layla – the second oldest royal sibling – clapped her hands. With a pink mist flowing around the square, a giant explosion of pink and gold appeared. Revealing a bunch of mage dancers – Layla's personal crew to dance and perform with.  
Some began to sing along with the princess of Isla. Bards and other townsfolk played music on instruments to play along with their singing and dancing. 
Ravii stood with the crowd who only watched. Dima behind him just in case of some secret attack – who knew what would happen. They were in enemy territory whether they liked it or not. 
Layla’s dancers began to pull some people that were in the crown into the main square. Making them dance along to the music. A smaller, blue haired woman dressed in pink and green made her way to Ravii.  
She held out her hand to him, gently smiling at him. She looked like a little fairy compared to how giant the Glacian was. 
“You’re making a mistake.” Ravii cackled, moving his head away, “There are better people to choose from here.” 
“I heard you’re quite the dancer, Your Majesty.” the woman replied, her hand still out for him to take.  
Crossing his arms, he glanced up at Dima. In return he only shrugged his shoulders, “... you should have some fun, Your Majesty. That’s why you’re here...” 
Ravii sighed, rolling his eyes and took the woman’s hand, “Okay, fine. Just one dance.” 
The dancer smiled brightly, holding his hand tightly as she brought him into the middle of the dancing people. 
The Zaquatis siblings immediately eyed the Glacian when seeing him of all people dancing along. Valerian – the third oldest – glanced at Layla. Sharing the glance, she smirked. Her song was upbeat in Islean tongue. 
Salem sat back, smiling and laughing as he clapped along the beat. He was good at dancing himself, however... he was keeping an eye on that Ice King. 
The whole Kingdom had their eyes on the Glacian and that one dancer. 
“My name is Rhea, by the way.” The dancer spoke while they were closer together, “Zahira. Rhea Zahira.” 
Ravii spun her around, easily keeping pace to her dancing. Letting her draw away, they did not draw their eyes away from each other. Locked on.  
“You know who I am already.” Ravii chuckled softly as he motioned around her, holding out his hand for her to take.  
“I’d still like you to proper introduce yourself to me.” Rhea mused as she took his hand, “I’ve never met you before, how would I know who you are?” 
He laughed in return, pulling her close to him as he took both her hands, “Ravii Dominis. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rhea Zahira.” 
Dima watched them from where he stood, his eyes slowly widening a bit. He had never seen his King smile this long and laugh. 
. . . He was laughing. He was happy. 
As the song ended, Layla stopped singing and twirled her finger. A slower melody began to play, and she went to sit down with her siblings. 
Sahel – the oldest Zquatis sibling – leaned over, whispering in Layla’s ear as he glared at Ravii. 
“Who is the girl? She is a part of your damn crew.” 
Layla hums as she twirled the hair that dangled over her face with her finger, “I think that is my newest recruit. She has incredible magic, she used to be a priestess or something like that.” 
Layla turned her head to look at Sahel, “Why are you asking?” 
The older sibling huffed, leaning back in his seat, “She’s flirting with the Ice King. How is it your useless magic did nothing, but this random person...” 
“Hey!” Layla huffed, “My magic has limitations, it’s not useless.” 
“I don’t like how he is smiling back at her.” Valerian mutters under his breath, glaring at Rhea. “Can you fire her?” 
“Boys, boys...” Layla smacked Valerian’s and Sahel’s shoulder as she leans forward, “... We know better than anyone how strict Glacia’s rules are. They can’t go anywhere anyway. She’s just a magician. A dancer. No royal blood in her. Don’t worry about a thing.” 
Salem watched silently. Not blinking whatsoever. His cheek rested on his palm as his legs were crossed. Gently kicking his dangling foot to the music. 
Everyone saw two people dancing. He witnessed two souls burning brightly. Never in his life has he seen such a phenomenon. They out brightened the entire kingdom with their souls alone. 
... Interesting, Salem thought to himself.  
Is that what souls look like while they are in love? 
The music ended and the people cheered for the two lone dancers taking the spotlight. Ravii and Rhea held hands and bowed to the crowd. Finally letting go, the two shared one last glance and walked back to their spots. 
Dima coughed, clearing his throat as he looked back at Ravii, “One dance.” 
Ravii clicked his tongue as he crossed his arms, “I haven’t gotten to dance in quite some time, Dima. The winter festival is only once a year.” 
The Glacian glanced at the people, then began eyeing Rhea once again as she was speaking to another person. Taking a deep breath, he narrowed his eyes away. 
If only he could dance with her alone.
Just one dance. That’s all he wanted. 
The festivities continued throughout the entire day, people making their prayers and blessing towards the Oracle. Rhea stood in front of a statue of the Oracle by herself. Her hands cupped together as she held her head down. 
Finally, Ravii thought.
Ravii walked beside her, looking up at the statue of Salem. Personally, he hated it. He loathed Salem, hated the entire family... but he would behave. Keeping his mouth shut for the sake of "peace."
“You danced beautifully. No one has ever been able to keep up with me like that.” Ravii spoke up softly. Rhea gasped, flinching at his sudden presence.  
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Ravii frowns as he looks down at her.  
She shook her head, laughing a bit, “No, it’s okay... I was so focused on my prayers to our Oracle.” Turning her head to look up at Ravii, she smiled gently.  
“You’re fun to dance with... I’m glad you joined me.” Rhea began to walk away from the statue, motioning her head to make Ravii follow her.  
Without any hesitation, the Glacian King followed her down an alleyway. More music was playing even in the alley, Rhea took Ravii’s hand and dragged him along. 
There they danced without the kingdom’s eyes on them until nightfall. Sneaking away further and further away from the people. 
Talking on equal terms, learning about one another. His smile never left the entire time, listening to all her stories, her tales. Her likes and dislikes. How she came to be one of the mages for Layla herself. 
After hours, Dima spots the silhouette of the Glacian. He began to panic seeing he had lost the King within mere moments hours ago.
... however, when he drew closer to the shore of this isle, he paused. 
There he was; the King and the woman he danced with before sitting by the shore, hand in hand. Their heads resting against each other. 
Dima took a step back and grinned.
Leaving the two alone. 
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burlveneer-music · 8 months
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Patryk Zakrocki - Tales for Solo Guitar
Recorded in Warsaw, Poland at Serwar by Patryk Zakrocki |27 September 2022| and at Szuster Palace by Patryk Zakrocki and Dima Belush |10 November 2022| Three pieces (1, 9,13) are based on original compositions, all others are spontaneous improvisations. First takes only, no overdubs. All songs were recorded in one take over the course of two sessions. The first in Serwar, the second in Szuster Palace. No overdubs were done, only a guitar and amp were used. Patryk Zakrocki - Gibson ES-175D (Serwar, tracks 1-3, 6, 8-10, 12, 13) Gibson ES-120 (Szuster Palace, tracks 4, 5, 7, 11) Thanks to Robert Amirian, Piotr Domagalski, Karol Strzemieczny, Dima Belush and Jerzy Szczerbakow for your kindness, and to Maciej Geming and Jędrek Janicki for your love of true music. Hats off to my guitar heroes: Raphael Roginski, Bartek Tyciński, Marc Ribot, Kazuchisa Ushihachi, Robert Belfour, R.L. Burnside, Tidiane Thiam and John Lurie.
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lucianbarbu · 7 months
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June Log
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Starting this month on June 1st, with the help of @indecisartistrun, and @mimiciora we did a collaborative colouring book with he children from their community. Everyone filled the page with what they would take with them when they inevitably have to move to space. The book is in the shape of a rocket to help them in thgeur space explorations 🚀
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The editorial illustration I made for a rather heartbreaking text written by Alexandra Voivozeanu for AnthroArt. You can read it in full here. I also recommend browsing their articles for more insightful texts and drawings into different social and environmental anthropological issues.
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Had to get back to Cluj-Napoca, where I prepared a little book with sketches, ideas and in-process projects for ArtiViStory's exhibition: UNBOXED STORIES - Urban comics with ArtiViStory Collective. The little blue zine takes the shape of a silkworm and is titled: The last sleep in my silk cocoon.
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Getting back to Cluj meant that I could finally pick up the drawings I made in collaboration with Anca, that she gracefully left at our old apartment when she passed by. The drawings are an ongoing collaborative project, started by Ana Kun and Covrig (Anca Dima), called Half&Half. Each artist that takes part in it has to make two half-drawings that will be finished by another artist of their choice, both getting to keep one of them at the end.
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Got back to Timișoara and drew this along with Ana, as preparation for a bigger project that will have us draw together on a huge piece of paper.
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The Balamuc residency got us all together again for a Weidly-shaped-Zine workshop I conducted as part of the 9 public events of the program. Thanks to everyone who attended for your openness ad creativity :o)
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Happened to find myself in Bucharest at the end of June, so I had to visit Covrig at her studio, which was the main place in which I hanged out while Gavril was putting up his stunning duo show with Giulia Crețulescu at Ivan Gallery. She was kind enough to let me use her aerograph, here are some drawings I made. While there, Alin from BooksForFriends brought me the riso posters we collaborated on. The prints are made after a digital drawing I made around Easter, printed in three colours on 42x30cm paper. They can still be bought from either me or from BFF's page.
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While on a mini Bucharest vacation, I found some time to inaugurate the big, scary A4 sketchbook I've been carrying around for a few months.
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Had to rush back to Timișoara to organise my last solo workshop within the Balamuc Make a Wish Residency. Based on a huge map I drew as a kid of places where I'd like to escape to, I created a workshop in which we all work on a collaborative map of recurrent dream locations. Similar to the places that I'd draw on the map when I was 9, this map also includes fantastical places that serve as an escape to the adult world, in our dreams. I posted my contributions.
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Thanks to Flo from The Secret Garden, I received the first prints of my speculative gouache book, Who is Adriana?. I made this book during my Erasmus scholarship at Academia de Belle Arti in Bari, trying to explore what could be the identity of Adriana, the name that my neighbour screamed for every night. I never expected this project to gain as much popularity as it got, but the pleasantly good reception gave me the right kind of push to print it in order for people to have their own copy as well.
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mchiti · 3 months
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yarbi quando si è seduto e ha iniziato a dire sono un italiano vero 😭 si sentiva e si percepiva tutto solo dal tono di voce, io sono deboluccia avevo proprio i brividi 😭 mn qalbi weld bladi ana dima fakhoura bikkkk 😭
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Qualcuno mi può spiegare la cosa delle macchie di olio nel film please non l’ho capita
Salve beloved, @gaysessuale ha fatto un ottimo post sul macchiarsi con l'olio e su cosa questo simboleggi nel film
In quanto alla continuità delle scene (SPOILER PER IL FILM AHEAD, CHIEDO SCUSA) devo dire che purtroppo avendolo visto solo una volta sono rimasta anche io confusa dal fatto che il film apra con la scena di dima che va dalle tre signore a dire di essersi macchiato d'olio, non mi torna proprio come outfit perché non mi pare di averglielo visto nel resto del film (Ho però osservato molto attentamente l'outfit in pelle che si mette dopo essersi macchiato con l'olio del motore, decisamente 10/10)
Per il resto sono molto d'accordo con Fra sul discorso di come il macchiarsi d'olio simboleggi l'allontanarsi dal percorso dei semeniti (il rischio di macchiarsi quando Lorenzo lo abbraccia, il fatto che dima accetti il pane invece dei semi quando è vestito di nero, ecc)
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