#Sombre Lullaby

[allyooops]

Well we did Inq, gotta do DC! Based off that one trend that @whirlwindflux has going!

Dream Weaver: The unicorn in his Dream Delivery Team, born and raised to be the very best in his work. He puts great importance on his looks and prestige, marrying a minor noble Sombre Flight from his team. They're close friends, but their marriage was more to please their parents than themselves. They had children out of obligation, and while they love their boys neither of them are sure how to raise them without the pressures that their own parents placed upon them. For the most part their boys are free to do what they want with their lives, how sad that all they want to do is make their parents proud.

Weaver is a huge fan of Rarity, her designs and flair captured him as a younger stallion. And he keeps a subtle purple ribbon in his mane and tail, and not so subtle blue contacts as a homage to her.

Dream Reader: Terro's Best friend, librarian, and volunteer at the local foals hospital. Reader lives to bring smiles to the foals faces, reading fairy tails and legends (with all the best voices of course). He met Terro as a young Colt and though they started off rocky they became much closer as adults. He's a big Pinkie Pie fan, loves that her goal in life is to make every pony around her happy. While he doesn't keep a physical homage to her like the other two Dream's, he has kept every invitation she's ever sent that he's been able to get his hooves on. Has them in a big scrap book that he keeps under his bed. Reader also reads fortunes in tea leaves, while not shown on his flank his predictions are very seldom wrong.

[cherriecove]

Fine Line Between Duty and Oaths (Part 9)

Gwayne Hightower x Targ!Reader

Summary: The second born daughter of King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Aemma is just as brave, beautiful and stubborn as her older sister but cannot deny her growing love for a certain red haired knight who just so happens to be a dear friend's brother. Cherrie's Note: Hi everyone hope you enjoy, please feel free to give any feedback! Masterlist | Previous Part | Next Part

The days following Rhaenyra's ascension to heir passed slowly, but gradually the weight of grief began to lift. It wasn’t immediate, nor was it complete, but in the small moments shared between sisters, between friends, a sense of healing started to take root. Rhaenyra threw herself into her new duties, determined to prove herself worthy of the crown she had been named to inherit, while you found solace in Gwayne’s steady recovery and the quiet, unwavering support of Alicent.

There were days when the grief still surged—when memories of your mother’s laughter or the scent of her perfume caught you off guard and sent a pang through your heart. But more and more, there were moments of light, moments where you and Rhaenyra could speak of your mother without the ache of loss twisting so fiercely. You would walk the gardens together, talking not of politics or duty, but of memories—of the times your mother had brushed your hair before bed or how she would hum an old Valyrian lullaby to calm your worries.

Alicent, always the steady hand, often joined you on these walks. She was the anchor that kept you grounded when the waves of grief threatened to pull you under. Her presence, quiet but ever supportive, allowed you and Rhaenyra the space to breathe and slowly begin to find joy again.

One afternoon, after a long walk in the godswood with Alicent and Rhaenyra, you returned to the keep, finding your father waiting for you in the royal chambers. King Viserys had grown distant since the funeral, his own grief a heavy shroud, but now he stood with a sombre expression, his gaze soft but filled with regret.

"My daughters," he said quietly, motioning for you both to join him. "I owe you an apology."

Rhaenyra’s eyes flickered with surprise, but she stayed silent, allowing him to continue. You could feel the tension in the air, the weight of unspoken words between you all.

Viserys sighed deeply, running a hand through his thinning hair. "I made choices... choices that cost us all dearly. I wanted a son so badly, I lost sight of what I already had. Your mother... your brother..." His voice faltered, his eyes glossing over with unshed tears. "I’m sorry. You deserved better. She deserved better."

Rhaenyra’s jaw tightened, but her expression softened as she stepped forward. "We miss her every day," she said quietly, her voice steady but filled with emotion. "But we will move forward. For her."

You nodded in agreement, your own heart softening as you watched your father’s remorse play out. There was anger, yes, but now there was also understanding. He hadn’t been malicious; he had been misguided, a man desperate to secure the future of his house. The price had been high, but it was not beyond forgiveness.

Viserys reached out, placing a hand on both of your shoulders. "I know it doesn’t change what has happened, but I will do everything in my power to make things right. You, Rhaenyra, are the future of this kingdom. And you," he turned to you, his eyes softening further, "you deserve happiness and love."

With your father’s apology came a shift in the royal household. There was no longer a cloud of unspoken grief hanging over every interaction, and life within the Red Keep began to regain some semblance of normalcy. The preparations for your wedding resumed, though now with a quieter, more intimate tone. The kingdom still mourned your mother and the infant prince, but it was time to look forward, to embrace the future.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the keep in a golden glow, you found yourself by Gwayne’s bedside. His recovery had been slow, but he was much stronger now, able to walk the corridors of the keep, though with a slight limp. He was seated in the window alcove, staring out at the sunset when you approached.

"Gwayne," you began softly, sitting beside him. "I’ve been thinking about our wedding."

His blue eyes flickered to yours, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You’ve changed your mind about marrying me, have you?" he teased, though there was a warmth behind his words.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "No, I haven’t. In fact, I was wondering if... we could incorporate Targaryen traditions into the ceremony. I know you follow the Faith of the Seven, and I respect that, but... it would mean so much to me, to honour my ancestors in that way."

Gwayne’s smile softened as he reached for your hand, his fingers warm against yours. "I would marry you in whatever tradition you chose, even if it involved dragons and fire. Your family’s heritage is important to you, and if that’s how you want to be wed, then so be it."

His words brought a sense of relief, and your heart swelled with gratitude. "Thank you, Gwayne. I promise we’ll honour both traditions, but I wanted... I wanted to feel close to my mother. To the roots of my house."

Gwayne nodded, his expression tender as he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Then we’ll have the ceremony you wish for. I’m not afraid of a few dragons."

You smiled at that, the weight of the past few months slowly easing as you found solace in Gwayne’s unwavering support. Together, you could blend your two worlds—Targaryen fire and Hightower faith—into something beautiful.

As the wedding preparations unfolded, there was a sense of renewal in the air. Though the past still lingered, there was joy to be found in the future. You and Gwayne spent more time together, his recovery a constant reminder of the resilience you both shared. His teasing humour returned in full force, and you often found yourselves stealing moments of laughter and light amidst the planning.

Rhaenyra, too, seemed to find her own path forward. Though her grief for your mother would never fully fade, she had taken to her role as heir with grace and strength, her bond with you, and with Alicent, stronger than ever. The three of you often spent evenings together, sharing stories, memories, and hopes for the future.

Your father’s apology had been the first step in mending the fractures that grief had caused. Now, with the marriage on the horizon, it felt as though the kingdom, and your family, were on the cusp of something new. You were moving forward, together, united by love, loss, and the promise of what was yet to come.

In the weeks leading up to the wedding, the atmosphere within the Red Keep grew lighter, though not without tension. The grief that had weighed so heavily on your family had begun to ease, replaced by the anticipation of your upcoming marriage. There was still an ache in your heart for your mother and the little brother who would never grow up, but the future now held the promise of new beginnings.

Preparations for the wedding were in full swing, and you spent many of your days with Gwayne, discussing the details, the guest lists, and, of course, the matter of the ceremony itself. The Targaryen traditions were ancient, woven with fire and blood, and they meant everything to you. When you’d asked Gwayne if he’d be open to incorporating those traditions into your wedding, his immediate acceptance had been a balm to your soul. But not everyone was as agreeable.

One afternoon, you found yourself in the council chambers with your father, King Viserys, and Otto Hightower, Gwayne’s father. The discussion had turned to the wedding plans, and as soon as the subject of a traditional Targaryen ceremony was raised, Otto’s brow furrowed in disapproval.

"Your Grace," Otto began carefully, his tone measured but firm. "I understand the importance of honouring your House’s traditions, but Gwayne is of the Faith of the Seven. It would be... unorthodox for him to partake in such rituals, especially the more pagan elements. A wedding under the eyes of the Seven would be more fitting, more appropriate for someone of his station."

You could see the way Otto’s gaze flickered, the carefully hidden discontent barely concealed. He was a man of order, of rules, and the thought of his son partaking in Targaryen rites, especially one involving the ancient Valyrian customs, was something he clearly found distasteful.

Before you could respond, your father spoke, his voice calm but firm. "My daughter’s wedding will honour both traditions, Ser Otto," Viserys said, glancing briefly at you with a soft smile. "She is of House Targaryen, and it is only right that we incorporate our customs, especially given all she has endured. Gwayne has already agreed to this. I see no issue with blending the Faith of the Seven with the traditions of Old Valyria."

Otto’s lips tightened, but he nodded, bowing his head slightly. "Of course, Your Grace. I merely wish for the union to be blessed by the Seven, as befits my house."

Viserys looked at Otto with a mild but commanding expression. "And it will be. But we will also honour the legacy of the Targaryens. I trust your son will not object."

Otto had little choice but to concede, though it was clear from the look in his eyes that he was not pleased. You left the meeting feeling lighter, grateful for your father’s support. For all his faults, Viserys had always loved you deeply, and in this, he had sided with you.

Later that evening, you found Gwayne in his chambers, sitting by the hearth with a book in his hands. He looked up as you entered, smiling warmly as he set the book aside.

"Another battle won for you, my princess?" he teased, his eyes twinkling.

"Indeed," you laughed, crossing the room to sit beside him. "Your father wasn’t pleased, but mine overruled him. We’ll have our Targaryen ceremony after all."

Gwayne chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I’m not surprised. My father has always been a stickler for tradition. But as I said before, I’m not afraid of a few dragons."

You grinned, leaning into him. "Well, I have something important to teach you, then. If we’re going to have a proper Targaryen wedding, you’ll need to learn a few Valyrian phrases. Specifically, the vows."

Gwayne’s eyebrows shot up, a playful glint in his eyes. "Valyrian vows? You know I’ve only just managed to grasp a few words of your language."

"That’s why we’ll practice," you said with a grin, pulling a small parchment from your sleeve. You handed it to him, watching as he unfolded it to reveal the words written in High Valyrian.

He squinted at the letters, his lips moving as he tried to pronounce the words. "Nyke īlot... rūvēbagon..."

You giggled, covering your mouth. "Close, but not quite. It’s ‘Nyke īlot rūvēbagon ao, issa jorrāelagon,’ which means ‘I bind myself to you, my love.’"

Gwayne glanced at you, his expression a mix of amusement and determination. "I see. So, all I need to do is say these words without tripping over my tongue, and I’ll officially be a dragon-rider?"

You laughed again, the sound light and joyful. "Something like that."

For the next few days, you and Gwayne spent your evenings practicing the Valyrian vows, his efforts both earnest and endearing. There were many moments where he stumbled over the unfamiliar words, his brows furrowed in concentration, only to break into laughter when he mangled a particularly tricky phrase. And then there were the moments where his voice softened, his gaze steady on yours as he recited the words with growing confidence.

"Nyke rūvēbagon ao... issa jorrāelagon," he murmured one evening, his voice low and full of meaning.

Your heart swelled at his sincerity, and you smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips. "You’re getting better every day."

Gwayne grinned, pulling you closer. "I have a good teacher."

As the wedding day approached, the excitement grew within the Red Keep. The blending of two ancient traditions—Targaryen and Hightower—was a delicate balance, but one that symbolised the union of your two houses. The Faith of the Seven would be honoured, but the heart of the ceremony would be steeped in the rites of Old Valyria, something that brought you closer to your heritage, to your mother, and to the legacy of your ancestors.

Though Otto’s disapproval lingered in the background, the knowledge that your father had supported your wishes gave you strength. And with Gwayne’s dedication to learning the Valyrian vows, you felt more connected to him than ever. There was something deeply intimate about sharing the language of your ancestors with the man who would soon become your husband. It was a part of yourself you had never truly shared before, and Gwayne embraced it fully.

The days of grief and mourning, though still present in the shadows, had given way to a new sense of hope and joy. And as the day of the wedding drew near, you knew that this union—blending fire and faith—would be the start of something truly remarkable.

[cuffmeinblack]

Hi~ is it okay if I request a Fluffy oneshot of Ominis gaunt x fem Hufflepuff Mc?

Like she’s generally a very soft spoken girl (tho she got sass for days) and maybe Ominis stumbles upon her while she’s singing “Secret Garden- Sleepsong” in the undercroft, because it’s a family lullaby and she’s feeling a little homesick.. (Post good ending, Sebs spending the weekend with Anne & his uncle)

He’s so entranced by her singing.. he ends up making notes on when she seems to go down there to sing, just so he can listen to her.. (also he’s a bit nervous about letting her know, that he knows she can sing. So he’s done all this in secret.)

And maybe sometime later a mean-girl group from the frog choir corners MC, talking shit about how she probably has a trashy voice or something.. Ominis ain’t having that!!

He just blurts out that ACTUALLY she has the voice of a GODDESS!! and they aren’t even worthy enough to listen to a Dogbog snor!

Maybe MC’s a little confident after his little stunt so she gets super flirty~

Seb’s gonna be so confused when he gets back to an unusually flirtatious MC constantly making moves on a VERY flustered Ominis.. 👀 but he’s happy for them at least.. and won a LOT of Galions, but that’s beside the point!

Basically all cute shit.. Ominis deserves SO much Love.. 🥺

Two little words

Ominis Gaunt x f!reader

Tags: fluff | Hufflepuff reader

1k words

A/: Hello, thank for your request 🖤 I enjoyed writing this from Ominis' point of view. Hope you enjoy.

I'll sing you to sleep and I'll sing you tomorrow

Bless you with love for the road that you go

Ominis knew he wasn't alone as soon he stepped into the Undercroft—he immediately jumped back and pressed himself against the cold stone wall upon hearing the noise. Quite what made him hide, he wasn't sure, only that the moment he had stumbled upon seemed personal and intimate.

May you sail far to the far fields of fortune

With diamonds and pearls at your head and your feet

The voice could only belong to one person, the only other one who knew about the Undercroft besides himself and Sebastian. She sang with a gentle lilt, the melody was sombre and sweet and tinged with sadness. Ominis knew he should either make his presence known or leave, the longer he left it the more awkward his discovery would become, but he found himself unable to move, partially from fear but a greater desire to hear her sing more.

And may you need never to banish misfortune

May you find kindness in all that you meet

The sweet song stopped suddenly and Ominis' gut twisted uncomfortably when he realised why—she was crying. Her breath hitched and she tried to stifle the sobs, breathing deeply and sniffing through her nose. Ominis felt intensely guilty for intruding—he didn't think she would appreciate the intrusion, even though he wanted to comfort her, she had clearly come here for solitude. Regretfully, he felt his way along the wall and back out of the door.

Ominis knew she often roamed the castle or fled into the forest or Hogsmeade, she was hard to keep track of, but he started to notice a pattern to her behaviour. She would receive an owl from her parents every Monday, and that evening she would disappear, walking through the central hall and sneaking off to the Undercroft. The second time he found her, he had intended to confront her and offer his support, but once again found himself distracted and enchanted by her sweet voice. He knew she wouldn't willingly sing in front of him, and he so wanted to listen.

She sang a different song every time he visited, though it was often a sad and slow tune. Ominis thought she must miss her home terribly and wondered about her life away from Hogwarts—a shy and intensely private person, much like Ominis, she didn't often mention her personal life, preferring to devote her conversations to her studies and friends' lives. Every time he heard her sing, standing in the shadows, his heart raced and on more than one occasion he felt wet hot tears sliding down his face.

All good things must come to an end, and for Ominis that was on a Tuesday afternoon a month after he had first heard her sing. He walked across the courtyard on his way to Herbology, his wand held aloft and listening to the chatter surrounding him. His ears heard her voice, now so familiar and comforting, though it was full of hurt and anger.

"There's no need to be so horrible."

"We're just giving you some criticism, if you can't take it then you shouldn't be singing at all," a second voice rang, ugly and rough in comparison.

Ominis followed the conversation.

"Telling me I sound like a banshee isn't criticism, it's needlessly mean. I don't know what your problem is," she said, her voice breaking at the end of the sentence.

More voices, cruelly laughing. The second voice chimed in again.

"Just give up, you'll never make the choir with your voice."

Ominis leaned against the pillar of an archway, his hands shaking in anger.

"I happen to think she has the voice of an angel, and we can all agree I have much better taste than you," he drawled.

He heard a shuffle as the group found the source of the insult.

"Nobody asked you, Gaunt," the ugly voice said.

"I spend my life listening, and let me tell you that she would be the best thing to happen to your pathetic little choir."

The silence that greeted his retort let him knew he had won the exchange. Several huffs were expelled and he heard the sound of footsteps retreating. Her sweet voice filled his ears, asking a question he didn't want to answer.

"Thank you, Ominis. When have you ever heard me sing?"

Ominis blushed, trying to find words that wouldn't anger or embarrass her.

"I have to confess, I found myself listening as you sang in the Undercroft. I apologise for not showing myself, I should have."

"I thought you must have. Next time…tell me when you're there?" she replied.

"Next time?"

"If you want. I'll see you later, Ominis."

The response surprised him, and he spent the next few hours utterly distracted from his lessons, turning the conversation and his memories of the Undercroft over in his mind. Was it an invitation? Should he turn up next week? He wanted to more than anything, but he worried he had somehow misinterpreted her interest.

That doubt was put to rest by the time he reached the great hall that evening. He followed Sebastian to their usual seat, where she sat waiting. Some of the Slytherins despised that a Hufflepuff often sat at their house table for meals, but they didn't comment anymore lest they find themselves on the receiving end of Ominis' ruthless sharp-witted insults, or the end of Sebastian's wand.

"Hello, you two. Good afternoon?"

"Fantastic, blew myself up in Potions," Sebastian said sarcastically, "You?"

"Not bad, it got better after I saw you, Ominis."

Ominis blushed, the heat rising in his cheeks, smiling bashfully as Sebastian started choking next to him.

"I'm glad. I'm sorry they were so awful," Ominis replied, ignoring the coughing coming from his friend.

"My hero," she said in a breathy voice.

Yes, Ominis often found himself thinking about her singing but those two little words might have been the the most beautiful he had ever heard.

[megairea]

It was a lovely afternoon; the leaves from the lofty limes were falling silently across the sombre evergreens, while the lights and shadows slept side by side: there was no sound but the cawing of the rooks, which to the accustomed ear is a lullaby, or that last solemn lullaby, a dirge.

George Eliot, Middlemarch, 1871

[is-she-suffering]

QUEEN ADREENA VS DAVID CRONENBERG'S CRASH

In December 2002 Queenadreena provided a live soundtrack to David Cronenberg’s movie adaptation of J.G. Ballard's novel „Crash”.

The one-night-only event was hosted in the Institute of Contemporary Arts in London on December 13th. The band was joined by ex Daisy Chainsaw bassist Richard Adams.

The band couldn’t pick a more fitting movie – „Crash” is a movie based on a J.G. Ballard’s novel of the same name, considered by many to be quite controversial due of its disturbing subject. It tells the story of individuals taking sexual pleasure from watching and participating in car accidents.

Katie Jane Garside: "I like standing on a knife edge in order to force the envelope and get something interesting happen. It's no coincidence that we were chosen to do 'Crash', what with the voyeuristic nature of car accidents. We'll put a bomb under it and see what happens."

A song called "Roadkill" was debuted onstage that night, never to be played live again. The song tells a story of a young girl killed in a motorway accident. "Roadkill" hasn’t found its way to any of Queen Adreena’s albums, but a 4-track demo was later released on Katie Jane's solo album Lullabies in Glass Wilderness.

Unfortunately, there’s no audio or video of this show available. A short review taken from Kerrang! Magazine (the band got 4/5 rating):

Classic Cronenberg film gets new art-punk soundtrack. THE PAIRING of David Cronenberg's 1998 film 'Crash' and ex-Daisy Chainsaw led avant-garde noise conjurers Queen Adreena was never going to be easy on the eyes or ears. For those of you who haven't seen it, 'Crash' is a film about a group of deranged individuals who derive sexual pleasure from car crashes. And for those who haven't seen them, Queen Adreena are an art-rock band with an equally worrying deviant streak. As the credits roll and the band assume their positions in front of the screen, Crispin Gray picks the moody, sombre melody of 'Kitty Collar Tight' from his guitar as singer Katie Jane Garside starts to weave her magic across the stage. Garside's compelling stage presence and beautiful, ethereal vocal style perfectly offsets the unhinged sexual nature of the film. Placing their music within the context of the movie leaves the audience dazed and confused as the final credits roll. Tonight more so than ever, Queen Adreena truly assault our senses. More power to them.

Another review:

QUEEN ADREENA VS DAVID CRONENBERG'S CRASH

ICA, London - December 2002

No one is quite sure what to expect tonight. Will Queen Adreena play for the entire duration of Cronenberg's controversial movie (which lasts twice as long as their normal set) or just during the 'highlights'?

The night begins amusingly with thirty minutes of vintage black and white Road Safety public information films. These provided some laughs, as various members of the supposedly ignorant public nonchalantly strolled out in front of rapidly moving vehicles, before being berated by a fussy old narrator.

Onto the main event: the band amble onto the stage as the movie begins, and a new slow song spills out over the opening credits. And there's a new bassist too! The after-show rumour seemed to confirm that the man with the bass was none other than Richard Adams, their ex-Daisy Chainsaw band mate. It seems I had been watching three-quarters DC and didn't even know it!

Back to the movie: subtitles are kept on throughout; the soundtrack is on, but only audible when the band stop playing. Some songs are slightly extended to keep the pacing accurate. The superb Pretty Like Drugs comes early on; one more song then the music ends so we can watch a dialogue scene. This sets the pattern for the night: we get a string of three or four songs over the driving and screwing, and then the music pauses for dialogue scenes. Curiously, we are allowed to view James Spader humping Rosanna Arquette's leg-wound in all it's original glory. The second batch of songs climaxes with the James Dean car-crash recreation, which means that the onscreen audience are clapping at the same time as we are.

So, does the noisy music work well with Cronenberg's copulation and carnage? Well, to be honest, standing right in front of the band, I keep tending to forget that a film is even playing. But when I do glance at it, I am reminded that „Crash” has far more nudity than I remembered. Shit, I hope Tesco's develop my snapshots with no problems.

Queen Adreena never give a bad show, and this is no exception. Very interesting to see them in a non-moshing environment too. And after that it's time to return home to the Heathrow area, where J. G. Ballard set the 180 original „Crash” novel. All this on the day Barry Norman, with thirty years of movie reviewing experience, said live on TV that Cronenberg's „Shivers” is "the worst movie of all time" (whatta tosser - Ed). God knows what he would have made of tonight's extraordinary event at the ICA... JASON PYKE

[crystaljellie]

Dropping another Scar thing because idk, Scar angst

Leaning against the stone pillar, the clouds block the moon out, and the stars seem to be flickering, growing dimmer. Of course, that couldn’t happen. The world doesn’t work like that, but then again, it had been days without the sun, maybe weeks? Nothing moved here, so it was hard to tell the difference between days if there were any at all. The Secret Keeper and grown vines around it, engulfing it to the point where only its glowing purple, now opened eye, was visible. 

Scar had long since stopped pushing that button, but every now and again, he thought, would one more push be it? If I pressed it one more time, would they let me go home? But that would only send him spiralling further, so his back turned to that success pillar, he doesn’t look at the button. 

He can’t understand why they’ve left him here; he wants to go home; he wants to go home so badly. There aren’t even ghosts watching him now; the bodies that used to exist around him have long since decayed. That’s why he doesn’t go looking anymore.

That’s why he just sits and thinks and cries.

He thought that maybe if he won, he wouldn’t be lonely anymore, that it could end, and they could hold him and love him. That he wouldn’t be an outcast. But how lonely is it, being the last one left in the world? How lonely is it that even his own body has begun to decay? How lonely is it that he can’t even see his own row of hearts?

Maybe it was the last time. Maybe there is no next time for him, for anyone. Maybe he killed them all. 

‘I’m so sorry mother’

The quiet sounds of a lullaby played in Scar’s mind, the turning of a music box, the same repeat song, a feeling of familiarity.

He hummed a soft note. But what need is there to be quiet in the land of silence?

So he kept humming that same song, a song of which he didn’t know where it had come from.

Only that Cleo had taught him it.

So he thinks of them.

And he thinks a little of the sun, and maybe one day it will rise to shine upon him once again, and he can sing alongside the birds.

Or maybe he’s left like a dog, howling sombre sorrows to the moon. 

[mizuki-nautilus]

『 Thorn & Roses 』 - Chapter 8

Echoes of Midnight

In the embrace of the night, [Y/N] found herself grappling with the restless tendrils of insomnia. As the world around her succumbed to slumber, she lay upon her bed, her eyes fixed upon the shadows on the walls. The moon, a silent witness, bestowed its ethereal glow upon the room, casting a sombre ambiance that mirrored the turmoil within her heart.

Tossing and turning, she sought a comfortable position to usher her into the realm of dreams, yet each shift only intensified her restlessness.

The subtle creaks of the floorboards and the gentle whispers of the wind outside served as haunting reminders of the passing time. Tick-tock, the hands of the clock moved relentlessly forward, marking minutes felt like eternal hours. As she closed her eyes, the sweetness of slumber teased her senses, but remained just out of reach, an elusive delicacy.

Desperate for relief from the waking world, she tried various tactics to calm her mind. She took deep breaths, seeking refuge in the calming rhythm of her own breath. She counted sheep, hoping the simple act would usher in a state of tranquillity. [Y/N] even whispered soft lullabies, as if her own voice could weave a tapestry of dreams, but nothing worked.

In the depths of frustration, she reached under her pillow and retrieved her most cherished possession—an elegant emerald necklace. The delicate chain adorned with a mesmerizing emerald gemstone, shimmering with a captivating delight, it captured the essence of simplicity and sophistication.

The emerald, a stunning centrepiece, held within its depths a mesmerizing hue that seemed to hold secrets of forgotten forests and enigmatic depths. Bathed in a soft light, it exuded an aura of mystery and allure, much like the enigmatic eyes of the one and only Malleus Draconia.

This necklace, a token of significance, held sentimental value beyond measure. It was more than just a piece of jewellery; it was a precious link to memories and emotions that made it an irreplaceable part of her life.

Clutching the emerald necklace close to her heart, she made an effort to push away the familiar worries that often plagued her mind, as she did so her tears fell silently, a testament to the struggles she couldn't escape. Exhaustion eventually embraced her, pulling her closer to slumber.

But in the depths of her newly acquired sleep, a sharp, horrifying voice pierced through the tranquillity.

"Find me"

Her eyes flew open in terror, her heart pounding fiercely in her chest. The voice had felt all too real, too close for comfort. Slowly, she rose from her bed, trembling with fear, her senses alert, searching for the source of the sinister whisper.

As she turned her gaze towards the bedroom mirror, her heart sank. It stood there, completely shattered, like a reflection of her own fragile state of mind. A cold chill raced down her spine, freezing her in place. The room seemed to close in around her, as if unseen eyes were watching from the darkness.

With the first light of dawn casting a pale glow, the once comforting room now bore an eerie aura.

____________________________________________________________

Spending lunchtime with Ace, Deuce, and Grim was always a blast, but ever since the class reshuffling, their friend group had grown exponentially. Deuce found himself in the same class as Jack, through Deuce's past delinquent phase and Jack's disciplined nature, they found common ground into working to bettering themselves and grew closer.

Meanwhile, Ace ended up in the same class as Ortho, which made for an amusing and endearing combination. On one hand, you had Ace, always attempting to skip class, not paying attention, or dozing off. On the other hand, Ortho, like a responsible younger brother, kept pushing Ace to fulfil his duties and complete his tasks.

It was heart-warming to see how acquaintances were transforming into close friends, little by little.

"You seem exhausted, [Y/N]. Did you roll out of bed or something?" Ace mockingly remarked to the weary girl seated in front of him. "She might as well have, considering the amount of noise she was making last night!" Grim interjected, clearly not amused by the lack of sleep either.

"I had trouble sleeping, not sure why," [Y/N] replied wearily, her tone reflecting the weariness that had plagued her night.

"Is something bothering you, [Y/N]?" Jack asked, his voice tinged with concern as he joined the conversation." Yeah, if there's anything we can help you with, don't hesitate to let us know!" Epel added, offering his support.

A warm smile spread across [Y/N]'s face as she felt the happiness of having so many supportive people by her side. She took a moment to contemplate if now was the right time to discuss her sporadic hearings. In the past, she hadn't been the most forthcoming about the strange glimpses of Mickey in the mirror. However, with her friends gathered around, this seemed like the perfect opportunity to aproach the subject.

"Well…" the girl with [color] hair spoke softly, "Last night, I was feeling exhausted and frustrated because I couldn't fall asleep, but… something else bothered me even more." She paused, carefully choosing her words, and then continued, "I heard a voice whispering in my ear, 'Find me,' in a really eerie manner." Her unease was evident as she shared the unsettling experience.

All her friends glanced at each other briefly, trying to make sense of the experience. "So, like, a ghost?" Deuce broke the silence, sounding concerned. "Seriously, Deuce? She lives with ghosts already. You're a real genius," Ace chimed in, poking fun at Deuce's response.

"Oh, wait, you are right, I meant a monster or something," Deuce corrected himself, realizing his mistake. "SHUT UP!! Don’t say those things!" [Y/N] exclaimed, clearly worried about the implications of Deuce's suggestion. The atmosphere seemed tense, and everyone except Ortho appeared to be frightened by the notion.

"FUNYAAA!!! Are we living in a haunted house, [Y/N]?!" Grim exclaimed, clearly frightened by the recent events. "I've been telling you, Grim, you two do live in a haunted house!" Ace affirmed once again. "And also YOU ARE a monster!" he added with a touch of annoyance.

"Haha. I often forget about it" [Y/N] expressed, "The ghosts are actually wonderful roommates, and I genuinely like them a lot." she said warmly "They become very respectful once you ask them kindly for something," Grim added. "If someone is playing pranks on [Y/N], it probably wasn't the ghosts," Grim pondered. Epel chimed in, wondering, "If the ghosts aren't behind [Y/N]'s nighttime experiences, then who could it be?"

[Y/N] pondered, "Now I'm not sure what to think of the incident." Ortho interrupted, saying, "Well, it's quite simple. Was it the first time you heard the voice, or have you heard it before, especially while you were awake?" Everyone gazed intently at [Y/N], waiting for a response.

Although she was aware of the answer, she found herself attempting to deny her experiences. The truth, however, continued to weigh heavily on her heart. Eventually, she chose to live in denial, saying, "No, it was the only time." Her friends visibly relaxed upon hearing this response.

"Well, then it was probably sleep paralysis," Ortho cheerfully suggested, trying to alleviate any concerns. "So there's nothing to worry about!" Deuce added, trying to reassure her further, [Y/N] attempted to put on a relieved expression, saying, 'Yay!'.

Ace interjected with the following, "Those things are definitely terrible!" Suddenly, an idea seemed to strike Ace as he mischievously exclaimed, "HEY! I've got an idea! What if… we have a Slumber Party at Ramshackle Dorm!" He eagerly presented his suggestion, extending his arms with enthusiasm.

"You still seem quite down, [Y/N]," Ace remarked, trying to lift the mood. "A slumber party could definitely brighten things up and chase away those night terrors, he-he~" he added cheerfully.

"That would be fucking awesome!" Epel said, knowing that a day away from Pomefiore Dorm meant a break from Vil's constant presence. "I can bring some games from my older brother," Ortho offered to the newly formed group. "And if we plan it right, we can ask Trey for some treats!" Deuce suggested, contributing to the conversation.

"I'm sorry, but I usually sleep early and wake up early for training, so I can't really stay at sleepovers," Jack explained. "At this point, we're not asking, Jack! We're dragging you in!" Ace interrupted playfully, undeterred by Jack's annoyed expression. "And you all better bring some offerings to the great and mighty ME!!" Grim chimed in mischievously. "Two tuna cans per person, NYAHAHAHAHAHA!!".

As the newly proposed plan was laid out, everyone turned their hopeful gazes toward [Y/N], brimming with excitement for the hangout. "Seeing all of you so thrilled about it, I can't possibly say no," [Y/N] replied with an excited smile.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

⭐Tag list ⭐

@worldussysblog @izuyo-hizumi

[annachum]

Some Vassago Goetia x Belavoris Orbumbrati HCs

. Belavoris being 5 years older than the Sun Prince of the Ars Goetia

. Vassago being a flamboyant, shameless flirt around Belavoris, and a power bottom AND a Flirty top in bed

. Vassago and Belavoris being bethrothed to other people when they were younger. Vassago is still on good terms as friends with his former bethrothed ( who was a lesbian ) and her sisters, meanwhile things...got thorny in Belavoris' breakup with his former bethrothed.

. So soon after Vassago's former bethrothal with his former bethrothed has broken off, Vassago turned his sights on the usually quiet and sombre Belavoris

. Vassago starts off by showing Belavoris his drawings and guitar playing, and it grew to something more

. Belavoris returns to Hellplane after campaign related stuff, and they began dating when Vassago was 20 and Belavoris is 25

. Paimon is like, to Vassago, ' So you went from Lady Talea of Sloth to Lord Belavoris of Sloth. Seems like you prefer the more....relaxed types. '

Vassago : Father, I assure you, mi Bela is the one I desire to marry!

. Amethyst ofc ships the pair

. Vassago and Belavoris conceived their 3 children ( 1 son and 2 daughters ) through the fertility polyjuice potion ( Vassago is the one who carried the eggs )

. Vassago loudly showing off his husband in whenever he can

. Belavoris sometimes sleeps on Vassago's shoulders in meetings

. Belavoris being a great lullaby singer and often conjures shadows to entertain his kids with stories

. Soon after their twin daughters moved out on their own, the War of the 7 Rings began

. The Goetia siding Sloth royals be all seeking extra protection from those DiGalaxises

. Belavoris helping Vassago sooth his hyper nerves

. Vassago serenading his husband with SINGING. LOTS OF IT

. Vassago being a shameless flirt to Belavoris like Stolas is to Blitzo and like Paimon is to Amethyst

. Belavoris comforting Vassago over how his bio mom's relatives betrayed the Goetias later on

. Vassago and Belavoris becoming opera and telenovela fans

. Vassago and Belavoris bonding over eldest child syndrome stuff ( Belavoris has 3 younger brothers )

[saintzenni]

Hey have been asking enterprise writers these questions from the fanfic asks going around, feel free to answer or not! (I just like hearing how people write). 🖖

What’s your favourite line you’ve written in a fic? 

What is your ideal writing set up? 

What is your favourite fic you’ve written and why?

Any advice for writers working through writers block or burnout? 

oooo first ask!!! this is so exciting hehehe

what is your favourite line you've written in a fic?

that is a very good question. i think probably this one:

“Captain Reed was sombre, never speaking more than he needed to, and he carried himself with a martial erectness that made his eyes alert and watchful, as if he was concerned that one of the women in their satins and leg-of-mutton sleeves would suddenly draw a bayonet on him; his collar was crisp and unwieldy on his neck and the pin on his cravat was simple, just a tear-drop pearl.”

from “Danse Macabre” or this one:

“Garak doesn’t answer, instead watching the slow march of the stars like arachnids across the windowpane.”

from “Cobwebs on the Windowpane,” but it’s really hard to choose!! i have a few others i constantly re-use lol, which i guess are kind of my favourites in a different way? for example, i say “clavicle” an ungodly amount, lol.

what is your ideal writing setup?

i’m pretty low-maintenance when it comes to my writing setup. usually i like to write sitting in my bed (because it’s warm and comfy). i always prefer to have a big glass of water with me and a snack nearby so i don’t have to get up while i’m in the zone lol. i tend to slouch real bad over my laptop oops

i use word on my laptop almost exclusively (times new roman, 12pt font, 8pt spacing between indented paragraphs. i am begging ao3 to let us indent our paragraphs PLEASE). i barely ever write on my phone except to record small notes for ideas that come to me during the day.

what is your favourite fic you've written and why?

this is really tough because i go through phases with almost all of my stories where i intermittently think they’re the best thing i’ve ever written and then i hate them. i think right now i love rereading “Sing Me Lullabies in Form of Your Catcalls” probably the most out of any of my stories. i'm really like “Daydreams (Are a Mild Form of Dissociation)” because it’s the longest thing i’ve written in years and i’m really proud of myself for sticking with it even when i felt like giving up. i think “Danse Macabre” is also up there for me because it’s so out of my comfort zone but i don’t think it can be at the top yet because i’ve only written one chapter of the story, haha. and of course i loved collaborating with @glitter-and-metal on “You and Me”! it was really neat seeing how other people work :)

any advice for writers working through writer's block or burnout?

when i’m having a period of writer’s block, i tend to try to do other things that don’t involve writing. i go out with friends, focus on schoolwork, and try to enjoy myself. sometimes, in the process of living my life, ideas will come to me and i’m inspired to write them down! also i find taking a long ass shower and just thinking helps. watching the show i’m writing for inspires me when i’m stuck on stuff like dialogue or characterization. but sometimes, all i can do is sit down and pound something out, sod how good it is. that works best i find when i’m really in a funk, because at least then when i come back to it, i’ll have something to work off of.

thanks so much for asking me!! it’s really nice of you <33 i hope i answered your questions well enough and i wasn’t too verbose lmfao

[afrobeatsindacity]

ADEKUNLE GOLD IS CONSTANTLY EVOLVING

Adekunle Gold, the Lagos-born prolific singer, is one of the handful of Nigerian artists who can boast of a lasting presence in the highly competitive space that is the country's music industry. His was a journey of talent, consistency, invention and reinvention.

He was born Adekunle Kosoko, a member of the royal Kosoko family of Lagos Island, so when he chose to follow his passion in music, the name Gold readily appealed to him. Days spent riding to school with his father while they played Ebenezer Obey and King Sunny Ade, as well as lullabies sung by his aunt at bedtime, planted a love for music in the young Adekunle. With time, his love for listening to music spurred him to create his own. Like many other budding artists, he cultivated his talents first by joining the junior choir in his church and later, by forming a band with a close friend, Michael Bakare, before deciding to pursue a career as a solo artist. Michael remains a major musical pillar of Adekunle Gold’s career, his songwriting and production credits can be found as recently as Adekunle's latest album.

Nigeria's first introduction to the artist, however, was through his creative work as a photo editor. Prior to the release of “Sade” in December 2015, Gold had been given the title of 'King of Photoshop' for his creative editing of his images on pictures of actress Tonto Dike, OAP, Toolz and especially afrobeats queen, Tiwa Savage. A young Adekunle Gold had finished school with a diploma in Arts and Industrial Design and was putting his degree to good use, doing graphic design work for a number of YBNL artists, including Viktoh, Lil Kesh and even street-pop legend Olamide.

In 2014, Adekunle Gold released “Sade”, a cover of One direction's “Story of my Life”, and based upon a real life Sade who had turned his affections down. As the song gained ground, Pheelz, YBNL's in-house producer, saw there was more To Adekunle Gold's creativity than visual arts, and after conversations with label huncho, Olamide, Adekunle Gold was unveiled as a YBNL artist in March 2015. Then, he got a chance at a proper debut single, and "Orente" was born; a folksy Yoruba-supported love ballad, featuring distinct Yoruba instrumentation, which would grow to become his signature style. He followed this up with “Pick up”, which amped up production for a Juju-influenced song that would be an excellent fit for a live band.

All these built up to the release of his first studio album in July 2016, Gold that featured successes such as "Work", "Ariwo Ko", and another all time classic, "No forget", a duet with Simi, a friend and fellow artist who had previously mixed and mastered songs for him. His debut album was a critically acclaimed success, peaking at no. 7 on the Billboard World Album Chart.

His next studio album, About 30, was released in 2018 after exchanging amicable farewells with YBNL. He assembled a team of instrumentalists into a live band, named the 79th Element (Gold), and headed by Michael Bakare. As a result the album drew chiefly from his unique upbeat trad-style music which he christened Urban Highlife, and it housed a number of memorable songs like the energetic "Money", the evocative "Ire" and the sombre "Fame".

Until 2019 Adekunle Gold had operated firmly within the boundaries of his self-styled Afro Urban genre, where live instruments could meet with intoned delivery to channel some of the essence of Yoruba Juju music in a more modern setting. For the next step, though, it was time for an artistic refresh, and to achieve it, he will have to sacrifice some of his folksy essence for better mainstream appeal. And so he braided his boyish afro into a macho cornrow, while he discarded the Adire shirts for brightly coloured jackets and flowing kimonos, left unbuttoned to show his new buff physique, completing his look with tinted glasses and loose fitting pants. His switch in music was a lot less acute. For "Before You Wake Up", his first solo single of 2019, he maintained a similar delivery but production was different, employing more studio-made Afrobeats rather than the live drums and keys he was more popular with. Also subtle was his use of English and Pidgin for the entirety of the single, in the past Adekunle Gold had relied chiefly on Yoruba.

It was in 2020 that he properly donned the artistic personality he would take for his next era. First came "Jore", a duet with Kizz Daniel that leaned into Kizz's brand of casual afropop that was backed by catchy lyrics and a flowing beat. Then he released "Something Different", which was as it was named, a continual of the sonic detour he was making towards the mainstream. In mid 2020, “AG Baby" was released, the manifesto for his artistic vision; on the track he alludes to being the "street boy popping on the mainstream shit". “AG Baby’ was homonymous with his new persona, and on his next album, “Afro-Pop Vol. 1”, he delved properly into who he was now and what to expect of him. A song like “Okay” handled this orientation nicely, as he spun the mid-tempo pop groove into a song deriding his haters.

While AG Baby was morphing into the popstar, Adekunle Gold was settling into family life. His marriage to Simi was for many a bolt from the blue, but insiders into the couple’s lives knew they had been an item even before either of them made their debuts in the industry. Simi had produced, as well as mixed and mastered a chunk of Adekunle Gold’s Gold album, and Adekunle has gone on record to credit her with helping him find his music style. The pair had collaborated across a number of tracks over the years, each time bringing amazing chemistry that most fans did not know was the product of real life love they shared. On January 17th they released “Promise”, a tribute to their new union and the first official announcement of it. A little over a year later, in May 2021, “Happy Birthday”was released; a love letter to their daughter, Adejare on her first birthday.

2021 also saw him release three successful singles that would appear on his next album, “Catch me if You Can”, “Sinner” and “It Is What It Is” followed the laid back, less-is-more delivery of his newly perfected style. But “High”, featuring industry heavyweight Davido, was a different dish altogether; an Amapiano heavy hit, foreshadowing another shedding, or perhaps more accurately, an extra layering of personality that would lead AG Baby to give way to Tio Tequila. The lover boy Adekunle who had withstood the transition from Adekunle Gold to AG Baby evolved to another man for whom “Love is not enough”.

His latest project, Tequila Ever After, is named after this new persona, and here he slows down his Afropop cadences to take in parts of Dancehall and RnB. By far his biggest project, Adekunle Gold assembled RnB megastars like Pharrell Williams and Khalid as well as budding Nigerian street stars like Zinoleesky and Odumodublvck. He has already hit the charts with two singles, “Ogaranya” and “Party No Dey Stop”, so he will be hopeful others can quickly follow suit. More importantly, though, he will hope his new project, and the persona he introduces with it, can significantly advance his global intentions. Adekunle Gold has described his latest project as a celebration of his wins so far.

With a solid discography encompassing five successful projects, a recently bagged contract with an international label in Def Jam Records and a career about to reach the 10 year mark, a celebration is much needed and well deserved. As the artist readies himself to consolidate his position in the Nigerian market and expand his wings even further beyond the shores of the country, he can take a shot of Tequila and toast to his wins so far, because it only gets better from here.

This article was written by Afrobeats City Contributor Ezema Patrick - @ezemapatrick (Twitter)

Afrobeats City doesn’t own the right to the images - image source: Instagram - @Adekunlegold

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

🎵 Coastal Shack

4. Looks like this is my new home -- wonder where the old one went?

SHIVERS - Westward, across the canal, towers the Whirling-in-Rags. Door #1 on the second floor is locked, behind it lies a trashed room. One floor below, behind a counter, stands an irritable man.

In a small shack in the fishing village, a baroque heater hums quietly, emanating a sense of comforting warmth. A washbasin lies on the table, the water inside reflecting the sombre face of the world.

Far away, on the corner of Perdition and Main, a nondescript building, obscured in a haze. It's vacant and lost, just like its tenant.

"This feels like a cozy hideout."

Thank you, strange sensation, for a fair assessment of the current situation.

No, wait, I changed my mind, I want to choose again.

SHIVERS - Who are you talking to? There is no one here. Not even cold.

2. No, wait, I changed my mind, I want to choose again.

SHIVERS - There is no going back.

Outside, the howl of the wind has picked up. The waves crash against the stilts again. It's as if you think the thought, but in someone else's voice...

LOOK UNDER THE FLOORBOARDS

MIRROR - An old mirror hangs on the wall. You see the reflection of your face in it -- adorned with *The Expression*.

[Encyclopedia - Formidable 13] Dig deep into your mind to locate the source of *The Expression*.

We don't currently have any clothing that increases our Encyclopedia. Still, with Actual Art Degree, it's not as though we're short on skill points...

ENCYLOPEDIA [Formidable: Failure] - Like the rest of you, it comes from a bad place somewhere in the past. That's all you know for now.

3. [Let the mirror be for now.]

BED - The bed is comforting, if a bit run down. Still you've earned a rest.

Go to sleep.

No time to rest yet. [Leave.]

BED - Across the room, the heating system hums its soft lullaby. The mattress feels soft and sheets warm. It only takes you moments for the world to fall away...

...

🎵 Tiger King

ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN - Thoughts, baby. A million little lights in the dark. You're one fine instrument, brother -- all those faces and all those names, all that laughter and screaming and scheming around... Every corner and every street...

LIMBIC SYSTEM - Recorded in you. Forever. On ferrotape.

Spinning in eternity.

Spinning on empty.

Spinning, spinning... tell me, am I dreaming?

ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN - No. You're spinning tapes at the discotheque. The great, unceasing disco of the mind. The flash! The bang! The endless *learning* experience.

Spinning in eternity.

ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN - On and on it goes, for untold hours. At the disco where you first asked her to dance. Rising -- rising! -- above the dark curvature. The great wingspan of sleep, studded with stars.

LIMBIC SYSTEM - Behold, there are *millions* of them down there. The first time. The last time. The smoke in her mouth, the potted flowers, the faces: turning, changing.

*What* is it?

ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN - It's the *world*, Harry-boy. And you're *made* of it. Every day you're out there you make more of yourself from it. I'm afraid you can't be *unmade* now.

You can never forget this shit.

The colors. The voices.

The rain, the snow... I don't want to. It's beautiful.

The endless visions. Erase them.

LIMBIC SYSTEM - All *stuck* on loop... Whirling, spitting out words and images.

ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN - You're the son of the World again. Harrister -- a ceaseless agent picking up litter and old newspapers, collecting your little bubble gum wrappers and idiotic picture post cards. Meaningless, meaningless keepsakes.

LIMBIC SYSTEM - Reading your awful letters and *recalling* things, aren't you? The endless names of the world... An address book, you are. The map of a city.

That's right. I *am* an agent of the world.

But what if I want to be the agent of nothing?

ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN - It's too late. You're not *made* of nothing anymore, you're something now, Harry. I tried to drown you in the black water but you re-emerged. Kicking and screaming. Running. And for what?

RHETORIC [Trivial: Success] - For the working class.

LIMBIC SYSTEM - Solving your little crossword puzzles? Doing your tasks, crossing names off your lists? Trying to become some sort of world-detector... It won't make it *okay*. It won't put smoke back in her mouth...

I'm building communism for all. This time we won't fail… [Pursue thought.]

Forget politics. I'll never sleep if I keep on like this.

LIMBIC SYSTEM - There he goes again. He's a real political animal, our Harry. He still doesn't see that it's the world that's changing *him*...

ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN - He's got no idea what he's in for.

Why?

Feel the pillow under your cheek.

LIMBIC SYSTEM - *Coz only love can break your heart...*

Feel the pillow under your cheek.

LIMBIC SYSTEM - Beep-beep-beep! The alarm is ringing, Harry. The disco circus goes on and on! You barely slept three hours last night.

VOLITION [Easy: Success] - You can do it. It's nothing. Do it for the city. Go.

SHIVERS [Medium: Success] - Do it for the wind.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - Do it for the picture puzzle. Put it all together. Solve the world. One conversation at a time.

[Open your eyes.]

END OF DAY 3.

[nizzybean]

Lullabies

We are where the stories walk,

and words they stalk,

dancing to the siren's song,

to the tune of their inflection.

We are where our virtues burn,

no lessons learned,

fuelling fires to keep us safe,

from the coldness of ourselves.

We are where things stay broken,

go unspoken,

and lockstepped boots sound the drums,

of an ode to sunken teeth.

We are where the fables cling

and the truths sting,

we seek peace in sombre seas,

in anglerfish lullabies.

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #656

Top Ten Leonard Cohen Songs

Welcome to another edition of “I didn’t really have time to write anything this week so it’s going to be a really quick one”. Which is a bit of a shame, because I like going deep when I do these music lists.

I was quite old when I got into Leonard Cohen – well, in my late twenties, I guess. I think the first time I really knew who he was was after hearing Rufus Wainwright’s cover of Hallelujah on the Shrek soundtrack; yes, I am that basic. Then, a bit later on, he became one of the artists I liked listening to and discovering more of back when I was working in an office for CITV; I’m pretty sure I never managed to get one of his songs on air the way I did with everyone from Nick Cave to Tenacious D, but he was still an ongoing presence.

The older I get, the more I like sad songs. Well, not sad, exactly; melancholy. I don’t think Cohen really wrote sad songs. He wrote about sad experiences, but he always seemed to approach it with either a sense of whimsical, dry amusement, or else to seek the goodness in the bad. A tragic breakup is grist for the mill; the joy of loving exceeds the sorrow of parting. Towards the end of his life, his music took on even more of a philosophical bent, and his album You Want it Darker is full of songs by a man accepting his fate with a sombre, but not bitter, sense of reflection. Life is full of wonder; there is heavenly in the earthy.

He was also a supreme lyricist, and I’ve always been drawn to very lyrical, poetic songs. “He was reaching for the sky just to surrender” is an absolutely fantastic line that I think of almost daily; of a different bent but equally as good, “If you want another kind of lover, I’ll wear a mask for you,” is hilarious. But possibly my favourite line of his, from Anthem, is a very simple one: “There is a crack, a crack in everything / That’s how the light gets in.”

What I’m saying is, Leonard Cohen was very good, and here are my favourite of his songs.

Hallelujah (1984): yeah, okay, basic entry but what can I say? The lyricism, the imagery, the musicality, everything about this is so top-drawer. It’s almost a ballad, almost a lullaby, and the images are both beautiful and frightening. But it’s the themes – of love and despair, of divinity and grimy, mucky carnality – that resonate the strongest. Basically, it’s a song about how getting your rocks off is better than God, and we have to respect that.

Anthem (1992): there’s a beautiful melody attached to lyrics that are epic and almost apocalyptic; a story of wars and destruction, of corruption and despair, but elegantly and optimistically arranged. And the refrain: a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in. This juxtaposition is what I love about Cohen: beauty in darkness, light at the end of the tunnel.

The Stranger Song (1967): more in the earlier, folkier Cohen vein, this is one of his songs about crappy men making things crappy for women. But again it’s the lyrics that are so fantastically artful; the ongoing imagery of games of poker, the long lines building rhythm, the use of repetition, all combines in sublime fashion. It’s a darker song than it sounds like, sadder and more threatening, but no less beautiful for it.

You Want it Darker (2016): from early Cohen to this, the last album before his death. Almost accusatory in its lyrics, it once again references poker, references scenes of horror and death, and – indeed – is pretty dark. Cohen’s vocals, now a rattle of rusted metal, speak of age, wisdom, and a great weariness. You want it darker? Fine. Here’s death.

First We Take Manhattan (1988): I did a bit of reading on the background of this song, and he originally wrote it for someone else, who recorded a very different version. But Cohen’s version is darker, trippier, his use of synth feeling both of its time and also giving the lyrics – the sinister, threatening ravings of a supervillain, or the anguished wail of the disenfranchised – a deeply dark atmosphere, like an eighties horror film.

Chelsea Hotel #2 (1974): one of Cohen’s most famous songs, set in one of New York’s most famous hotels (namechecked as recently as this year by one Taylor Alison Swift), which features – among other rockstar trappings – Cohen receiving fellatio from a famous singer (not Taylor Alison Swift). It’s got a wry sense of humour (“You told me again you preferred handsome men / But for me you’d make an exception”) but also picks at the darkness of relationships, celebrity, and culture.

Closing Time (1992): yes, there’s darkness here – there’s darkness in, like, all his songs – but this is definitely one of the funnier ones. A sly interpretation of an Irish pub folk song, it manages to be a funny depiction of a bar full of old soaks, but also – somehow – pandemonium, or limbo, or some kind of biblical halfway-house. Is it about sex, or death, or both? Who cares when it’s this much fun?

A Thousand Kisses Deep (2001): a song structured like a poem, four-line stanzas of ABAB, again with imagery of gambling (“the odds are there to beat”) and warfare (“blessed our remnant fleet”), and once more dealing with dark, romantic thoughts. It’s the way all of these elements blend, the very evocative imagery of each verse, that coalesces into a song of slightly threatening beauty.

The Future (1992): although from roughly mid-way through his career, Cohen already sings this with a distinctive rattle in his voice. It’s a brutal song, an angry cry of horror as the narrator demands terrible things, creating an overriding atmosphere of oppression. Despite this, the tune is fast-paced and almost jaunty, giving the whole thing a surreal and excitingly malevolent air.

Leaving the Table (2016): another late-era Cohen; another one explicitly associated with death; and another one filled with poker metaphors. Is it a song of regret? Acceptance? Joy? Is the narrator talking to someone here, saying goodbye; or is it a hello to an old acquaintance he’s meeting on the other side? Like so much of Cohen’s work, there’s a delightful ambiguity; an the overriding theme is once more one of shoots of joy springing from the tundra of sadness. There’s a lot of shit out there. But it’s all okay in the end.

[selfiesforalgernon]

Did I ever tell you about the time I rewatched the Jirachi Pokémon movie as an adult on acid and the SECOND the sister starts singing the lullaby I started uncontrollably sobbing and had no idea why or what was going on?

So to rewind, as a kid I watched that movie A LOT... I loved the magic circus tent setup scene, Jirachi was my favorite, and looking back it had a lot of similarities to my life at the time (grew up homeless so a lot of camping and lived in a trailer for a bit, the whole movie is them RV camping so that probably resonated lol). I couldn't remember any of the plot when I rewatched but after I did rewatch it, through bouts of tears, I realized that it's cause the ending is super sad and Jirachi leaves the boy to go back into hibernation, with the lullaby taking on a very sombre meaning at the end... WELP apparently my subconscious sure as shit remembered that lesson, after all, I must've baked it into my synapses watching the movie so many damn times.. It wasn't a trauma but it is insane what lessons you hold on to without even knowing it.. Shoutout to the Pokémon movies... they didn't have to go as hard as they did bro

[legends-of-time]

The Strength of a High and Noble Hill (Outlander)

Chapter 4: Goodbyes

Masterlist

No one explains things to Brian or talks about anything around him. He doesn't understand where Angus disappears to or why Fergus returns one day, shaken with red on his face. He assumes there's fighting due to the number of men his mother treats as the next year rolls around.

His parents are very serious these days. Brian is able to lift smiles from them when he takes his first proper steps and creates laughter when he points at a man everyone is calling a Prince and saying cat (his first word).

——

Brian is almost two when he begins to say his goodbyes.

He doesn't understand when Fergus says his goodbyes as he heads off to deliver a message for their parents. Surely he'll come back?

Murtagh ruffles his hair and calls him a Diabhal beag again by now, Brian knows what this means but he has never heard it uttered by Murtagh in such a sombre tone.

——

Brian stares at his parents with tears in his eyes as they argue.

April 16th 1746

"Ye... yer promised me tha' if it came te this, ye'd go back through the stones, back home." His father says.

Go back? Go back where?

"But you are my home." His mother argues.

"And yer are mine, but this home is lost. And now ye, Brian and the bairn... yer must go te a safe place. Te a man... a man tha' could care for yer all."

Brian stares at them both questioningly. But neither of them turns to him to provide answers.

"No. No, I..."

"Claire. Claire, there's no time." Da argues.

"How will I explain all this? How can I go back?"

"To Frank. All tha' I leave te ye. Tell 'im wha' ye will about me... about us. 'Tis likely he'll no want te hear, but if he does... tell 'im I'm grateful. And tell 'im I trust 'im, and tell 'im I hate 'im te the verra marrow o' his bones."

Brian winces and whimpers as he begins to hear a buzzing sound getting louder and louder. He rugs on his mother's skirts. "Mama, it buzzing."

Brian doesn't know how to explain the looks he receives from his parents. Relief? Devastation?

"He can hear it..." His mother murmurs as she stares at Brian before snapping to his father with renewed desperation. "Jamie please tell me, please tell me that you can hear it."

But his father shakes his head and denies it. Brian doesn't understand, it's so loud! Then Mama and Brian are being pushed towards the stones, encouraged to touch them. Brian glances over his shoulder, just before he touches it, and sees his father watching them, tears falling down his cheeks.

"Da?"

His father crouches down and strokes Brian's hair. Hair that matches his own. "Goodbye wee laddie. Yer look after yer mother fer me."

Brian frowns at his father, confused, but then he and his mother touch the stone and they're gone.

——

♪ Oh, milkman, keep those bottles quiet ♪

Mid-April 1948

Brian experienced a lot of pain going through the stones. His mother was a bit disoriented too but also distressed. When others found them, in clothing that Brian almost feels is familiar in some sort of way but struggles to recall where. His mother is weeping and crying. Brian wants to stay, to comfort her but they tear him away from her. Thankfully, he's soon returned to her and, as she sits in this bed, she cradles him, singing softly. The radio plays in the background.

♪ Been jumpin' on the swing shift ♪

♪ All night ♪

♪ Turnin' out my quota all right ♪

♪ Now I'm b*at right down to the sod ♪

♪ Gotta catch myself some righteous nod ♪

♪ Oh, milkman, keep those bottles quiet ♪

♪ Milkman, stop that grade A riot ♪

♪ If you can't lullaby it ♪

The song is interrupted by a door opening. His mother doesn't look at the person and Brian can't see them as she blocks his view.

"Can you turn that bloody thing off, please?" She demands.

There's a click and the noise stops. Brian is thankful, not used to the noise, but then he can now more clearly hear all the loud noises from outside.

♪ Oh, milkman, keep those bottles... ♪

"So noisy here." His mother murmurs. There are footsteps and suddenly she tenses, clinging to Brian tightly causing Brian to let out a small cry. His mother lets out an apologetic noise, stroking his red hair soothingly. "I-I'm sorry." She apologises to the man that Brian now realises is standing next to the bed. "Y-you're not..."

The man has dark hair, with wide hazel eyes that flicker over Brian's mother questioningly and curiously looks at Brian. "Claire?"

"Frank. Hello. I'm back." Brian glances up at his mother curiously, still not understanding what's going on. It's like there are memories locked away somewhere that would explain this new world around him but he can't unlock them.

"And I am so grateful." The man, Frank, says tearfully. Brian stares at him, he must know his mother quite well from his reaction but how come Brian has never seen him and where's Da?

"Are you?"

"Of course. With all my heart." He walks towards them but his mother lets out a gasp, pulling Brian towards her. Frank looks at them apologetically but also looks hurt. "I'm sorry... wh..."

"No. It's not you."

"Mrs. Randall?" A different voice calls then there's a blinding white light.

More voices appear out of Brian's eye line.

"Hey! What are you doing? Get out of here!"

"Easy now, I'm just doing my job. Now watch the camera!"

The door slams shut.

Brian flinches at the noise causing his mother to hold him closer. He looks up and sees that the man, Frank, is staring at him with a frown on his face.

"Claire... who's this?"

——

A/N: It was strange doing this one as there is so much dialogue from the show that I used.

So I have lots of plans for different moments for Brian as he grows up but I'd be happy to hear any other ideas of scenarios people come up with and they might make it into the story.

Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

[thewordisbond]

meppi treats us to a special "Lunar Lullaby"

Posted on https://www.thewordisbond.com/meppi-treats-us-to-a-special-lunar-lullaby/

meppi treats us to a special "Lunar Lullaby"

Producer meppi delivers something refreshing and soul-stirring in the form of "Lunar Lullaby". The heartwarming and sombre piece is made up of melancholic piano-riffs, soothing pads and sparse drums. This is a solid addition to your lofi playlist and perfect to study. meppi · Lunar