#fall of thanes

[dykesynthezoid]

Yes Delissandro didn’t hesitate to attack Pamela but Lou’s eyes were wet and shining when he said “destiny has been designed.” I feel ill

[that0nebird]

Tamarack would be a tali/liara romancer if she played mass effect

[starstruckodysseys]

every colin/deli/karna interaction is making me SICK who gave them the right

[meraarts]

When Delissandro said “destiny has been designed” it illustrated how he sees himself, how he finally feels the importance he thinks he was destined for, and simultaneously showed that they had been played from the start and that this outcome was inevitable.

[acciokaidanalenko]

Obsessively thinking about Kasumi nudging Shepard & their ME2 LI together, with her own little hints and comments 🥺🤣🥰 ya girl knows everything that happens on that ship, and she's so into watching this unfold 👀

[astorythatwritesitself]

2022 Writing Wrapup

Thanks for the tag, @mxanigel !

Total Words Published: 2,091

Additional Words Written: 5,721

Grand Total of Words: 7,812

Fandoms: Mass Effect

Highest Everything (raw kudos, hits, comments): Déja Vù

Highest Kudos to Hits Ratio: Same ^

New Things I Tried: Writing again at all tbh xD

Ok real answer: writing from characters I haven't before, instead of sticking purely to Shepard, and actually plotting out a multi-chaptered piece.

Fic I Spent The Most Time On: Probably 'This Is Fine', since it's still actively in progress, and the first piece that is proper, hard and fast 'canon' to Adrian's story.

Fic I Spent The Least Time On: Deja Vu was written in an hour-long burst of hype for my first N7 day back in the fandom, and I regret nothing xD

Favorite Thing I Wrote: Of the things that are published... probably This Is Fine. I've always had the notion that Shepard fresh off the slab is not in a good place, and it was fun trying to get into Adrian's mindset for it. Like, how bad do you have to be to think a practical (lack of) demonstration is the best way to say you can't use your biotics any more, you know?

Favorite Thing I Read: Ohh a lot! In no order: Your Gods Are My Gods, Third Wheel, Shore Leave? In This Economy?, Regret, Take The Power Back, and I've really enjoyed what of Stellar Parallax I've been able to read so far!

Writing Goals for 2023: Write more. Read more. Comment more. That's it that's the goals.

New Works: Déja Vù, In Which Shepard Swears It's Just The Implant, and This Is Fine!

No pressure tags to @korblez @aceghosts @my-mild-ginger @commander-krios & @wintersstreams !

[nulfaga]

me2 codex says a drell lifespan is around 85 years but is that like. most drell can expect to live that long, or is it like some crazy outer bound that's Theoretically possible. like a human living to 120**. And is that 85 years in an optimal (arid) environment? or is this after factoring in premature deaths due to kepral's?

i'm thinking abt it because obviously salarians and asari frame their lives differently than humans. i wonder if that difference is tangible between humans and drell, too. and i wonder how they cope knowing that their ancestors (...before rakhana tore itself apart anyway) lived significantly longer, healthier lives than they will. i wonder if there are like. graduation rituals for elder life stages that no one makes it to anymore.

**is 120 even such an outlandish figure for humans by the time of mass effect? the me1 codex says that quality of life and life expectancy have steadily improved on earth over the past years. miranda mentions she'll probably live "half again as long as the average human". do we call that around 120-150? obv not every human is a designer baby but genetic mods are commonplace and apparently there's extensive screening for hereditary health conditions so i kinda do buy your average middle-class regular joe making it to 100-110 without too much fuss.

[mhlivenews]

अल्पवयीन गर्लफ्रेण्डसह अनिकेत पळाला, पोलिसांनी शोधून काढलं, ट्रेनने येताना संशयास्पद मृत्यू

Thane Youth Train Death: भिवंडी तालुक्यातील पडघा पोलीस ठाण्यातील पाच्छापूर येथील मृतक अनिकेत जाधव आणि शहापूर तालुक्यातील अल्पवयीन मुलगी या दोघांमध्ये प्रेम होतं. हायलाइट्स: पोलिसांच्या ताब्यात असताना प्रियकराचा धावत्या ट्रेनमधून पडून मृत्यू मृत्यू प्रकरणी पोलीस उपनिरीक्षकासह दोन अंमलदार निंलबीत ठाणे शहापूर येथील धक्कादायक घटना Lipiप्रियकर प्रेयसी ताब्यात बॉयफ्रेंडचा मृत्यू ठाणे (शहापूर) : २४…

[news-venue]

Owner arrested after dog falls from building, kills 3-year-old girl in Thane

The Thane Police has arrested the owner of a pet dog which fell from the fifth floor of a building, killing a girl on the spot on August 6, 2024.

The arrested man was identified as 24-year-old Jaher Sayyed.

A First Information Report (FIR) was filed in this regard, two days after the three-year-old girl died.

According to the police, the dog was tied to the terrace of the building and fell in an attempt to free itself.

It fell onto the street, hitting the minor girl.

She was rushed to a hospital but died during treatment.

Meanwhile, Nationalist Congress Party (NCP) (SP) leader, Jitendra Awhad, alleged the dog was thrown from the building.

He also claimed the minor girl's family was being threatened against reporting the case to the police.

As Awhad accompanied the family to the police station, he urged the police to add three more names to the existing FIR in the case.

The names and identities of the other accused were not disclosed by the police.

[kateksmallcuteowl]

June 24: Role Reversal/The Shire Falls Instead

(An amazing challenge from @bagginshieldweek24

Still trying to play around with different styles. Hope you like it!

I decided to significantly extend the "alternativeness" of the universe, so we need to start with the Rings of Power. We all know that hobbits do not have rings in canon, but the dwarven rings gave their owners the ability to gain more treasures and become better craftsmen. So, in this AU, seven rings are given to the Hobbits, the creations of Yavanna, to bring the world flourishing agriculture, food, and protection to humans and elves who cannot always engage in farming. Agriculture is a profitable business in general, so over time, immense wealth begins to accumulate in the Shire, which, along with the power of seven rings, attracts the dragon. Bilbo, the thane of the Shire in exile, gathers a team of loyal hobbits (Frodo, his nephew and heir, don't forget, Bilbo is a convinced bachelor, at least until he meets Thorin, Sam and Hamfast Gamgee, Merry and Pippin, as hobbits whose families settled in Rohan and Gondor after the fall of the Shire, and therefore they know how to fight, and maybe some unnamed Tooks). However, they need a warrior who can handle mechanisms and iron, which the hobbits, though having become more "down-to-earth" from the hardships and adversities of exile, do not know how to do.

And a few short headcanons that partially influenced the appearance of the characters in the drawing:

- Bilbo here is more gloomy and serious, he has endured the hardships of life in exile and the death of loved ones (instead of Thror, the old Took was beheaded), he is responsible for the entire operation and needs it the most. Therefore, here he has less curly hair to show a heavier and more stubborn character. He also has a very small ahoge (the tuft of hair sticking up on the top of his head) that mostly just hangs, not expressing much emotion, or stands straight, expressing anxiety and irritation.

- This should have been first, but I think ahoge perfectly suits hobbits as an idea and all hobbits have it, just more or less.

- Thorin here is the prince under the mountain, but since in Middle-earth the social role of hobbits is among the dwarves, he simply lives for his pleasure, working in the forge, creating what he likes. He also has fewer wrinkles and wavier hair here.

- If in the culture of the dwarves everything came from stones, then in hobbits it came from nature, so instead of fur, Bilbo wears a cloak with leaves. They also retain a love for warm bright colors, as in the canon.

- It hurts Gandalf to see the hobbits, whom he loves so much, suffering from the dragon and the hardships of life.

[andejoe]

What do you think would happen if humans are the only species that believes in luck.

What if aliens never correlated crossing fingers, walking under ladders, seeing melanistic felines, as things that can affect an outcome of a project (or life's) success? What if humans are the only ones who believe in that kind of stuff?

Even non-superstitious humans cross their fingers for good luck, just because that's what you do.

Human right before they're doing something dangerous: Cross your fingers.

Alien: *visibly confused*

Brall headed down the corridor, stepping lightly around the larger debris. The corridor was still under construction after last weeks’ earthquake shook loose a ‘hobby room’ the humans had installed against regulation and without permission. How the humans managed to get weighted iron bars as tall as they were onto the base was impressive in itself, how they managed to get them into the crawl space in between floors was even more so.

“Stop!”

Brall froze, a quick response he learned after being around humans for so long. He saw no danger, no problems, or any reason for his quick change. He turned around to face the human who’d called for him.

“Why can i not continue down the corridor?”

Thane was moving quickly towards Brall. He was trying to protect Brall from, something.

“The ladder.” Thane grabbed it and lifted. He carried it to one side, collapsing it against the wall. “You can’t walk under ladders.”

“It was sufficiently high enough. I would not have bumped it,” Brall assured him.

Thane shook his head. “No, it’s bad luck.”

Brall wasn’t aware of what luck was, or even the concept of it. He was in a hurry though. “Can you walk with me and explain what ‘bad luck’ is?”

Thane nodded. “Course.”

Brall kept going, but diverted half his attention to the human.

“Luck is an invisible force that can change the outcome of anything regardless of what actions have been taken. You can have good luck or bad luck. Good luck is when things work out for you for no reason. Bad luck is when terrible things happen for no reason.”

“But walking under a ladder causes bad luck?”

“Yes, because you can attract good or bad luck based on what you do. Black cats carry bad luck with them, so if you see one, boom, bad luck. On the other hand, horseshoes are good luck. Bad luck is easier to get though, so you have to be extra careful not to attract it. Good luck is a lot harder to manifest.”

They stepped through the doors and headed for the next building.

“But are humans not known for their preparedness and tenacity? Why would a species believe in mindless chance when they are, well, human. It seems counterintuitive that a species who routinely looks death in the eyes and laughs would allow themselves to fall victim to such a hollow belief.”

They stepped into the next building. It was much smaller, only two rooms large. The first room acted as a barrier to protect the sensitive equipment in the second. Another human, Vikram, stood there waiting for Brall.

Thane frowned. “It’s not a hollow belief. There are things that happen that can’t be explained. Despite everything that is prepped or done, sometimes things happen and people don’t make it. It’s bad luck.”

Vikram laughed. “Dude, stop filling his head with nonsense. Luck isn’t real. It’s a small mind ignoring the butterfly effect. Things happen and just because you don’t know what caused them doesn’t mean nothing caused it. The universe doesn’t have an opinion.”

Brall was now very confused. Thane spoke as if luck was a human constant but Vikram refused it outright.

“Oh yeah?” Thane challenged.

Vikram shrugged. “Yeah. Luck is for dummies.”

“Cool.” Thane nodded. “Then I’ll just go ahead and take the narwhal toy with me then.”

Vikram’s face changed so quickly Brall almost expected to see a weapon appear.

“You touch that narwhal and I’ll snap your finger.”

Brall took a step away from Thane first, distancing himself from the potential danger.

“Ha! Now who’s superstitious?”

Vikram frowned. “I’m not superstitious. But if you move that narwhal then Brall and I won’t be able to fix anything.”

“How does the piece of plastic help us?” Brall asked.

Vikram shrugged. “Don’t know, but it does. So don’t touch it.”

“Brall, if you need any more information about luck, I’ll gladly give you some reference material to look up later. Because at least I’m honest about my beliefs.” Thane left, smirking.

Vikram shook his head. “Alright, let’s just get to work.”

———————

“I still don’t understand why the repairs aren’t holding. We worked out all the bugs.”

Vikram had been complaining for the last ten minutes. Nothing they did was working.

“You didn’t touch anything, did you?” Vikram asked.

Brall couldn’t lie. It was an unknown quirk of he species that humans discovered. So he knew he was caught.

Brall pulled the narwhal from his pocket. “You said luck was not real so I wished to see for myself.”

Vikram lunged for the narwhal, frightening Brall. Brall flicked the toy into the air and jumped backwards. Vikram grabbed the toy with a hunter’s focus and immediately rushed it back to its rightful place.

“I told you not to touch the narwhal!”

Vikram began scolding Brall, but Brall was distracted. All the red, orange, and black indicators were shifting to blue and purple behind Vikram’s back. The human was going on about how personifying the equipment and placating it was important, but Brall was only partially listening.

“It’s working.” Brall was in disbelief. Replacing the toy somehow fixed everything.

Vikram turned and smiled. He exhaled all the pent up stress. “Of course it’s working. We gave the toy back. It’s happy now.”

Brall made the mental note to request the reading material from Thane later.

[sarahsmi13s]

Just a Little Guidance

whumptober day 6: forced to hurt someone

pairing: tim bradford x reader (oc last name: blake)

characters: tim bradford, y/n blake, zoe andersen, jackson west, john nolan, lucy chen, thane riggs (oc villain)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, blood, fighting, stabbing, mentions of SA, being held captive, forced to hurt someone, forced to hurt partner, crying, quitting, if i missed anything please please please let me know

word count: ~1.8k

a/n: this is for whumptober! please please please proceed with caution and use discretion, protect your peace

also if you are on the whump taglist but are not familiar with a character, you can skip it will not hurt my feelings!

also also, i do want to apologize for getting this up late got distracted while writing it so i finished it later than i had hoped

whumptober 2023 masterlist

summary:

You stood in front of Captain Andersen’s desk, hands shaking as you listened to her tell you about everything that would need to happen before you could return to duty. 

Tonguing your split lip, you shook your head. Tears gathered in your eyes as you looked at your trembling, still blood stained, hands as your shield and gun rested in them

How could they let you back to work after everything that happened? Tim was still in the hospital, you got to leave after just a few days. But what you saw, what you and Tim experienced over those two weeks… you couldn’t trust yourself.

“I-I’m sorry Captain… but I can’t,” you said softly, your bruised and busted hands curling around the items in your them.

She tilted her head, “I’m not sure I understand.” 

You sat your shield and gun on her desk, “I’m not coming back… I’m sorry… but I quit.”

Zoe nodded, giving you a sympathetic look as you avoided her eyes. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?” You shook your head before she was even finished. “No, I’m sorry Captain… but I can’t. I’m quitting, I’ve made up my mind. I’m sorry.”

Without giving her a chance to reply, you turned on your heel and left.

You sat curled up in the hospital chair, just staring at Tim’s unconscious form laying there in the bed.

There were words stuck in your throat. It was like they were coming up sideways, choking you before coming up in broken fragments on your tongue.

What the hell could you say? Tim was laying in a hospital bed because of you. You had put him there. An apology just wouldn’t make that go away. Make what you did go away.

You sat in the uncomfortable chair, picking scabs and prodding at bruises as your mind replayed everything. Never giving you a chance to rest or forget what you did.

“I’m sorry, Tim… I’m so so sorry,” you sobbed, looking down at your blood covered hands. 

“It’s okay, baby,” Tim winced at the way your hands tried to patch him up from the wounds you had put there that day. “You’re doing this to protect yourself and for us to survive. I’m not mad.” 

You shook your head, “I should be stronger than this…” 

“Thane is a fucking psycho, do not put this blame on yourself,” he grunted as he sat up. “Hey, look at me.” You sniffled and looked up, “I’m hurting you, Tim. I shouldn’t hurt you, under any circumstance… even this. I should have let him–”“Don’t say that, don’t you dare say that.” 

“You were ready to take a bullet for me!”

“Because you don’t deserve to die!”“And you do?!”

You panted a little, “I shouldn’t be hurting you… I don’t want to hurt you.” He grabbed your hand, not caring about his own blood slicking up his hand. “I know that, and I can handle it. They’re coming, I know they are. I can hold out until then.” 

“But what if I can’t?”

After that conversation it was eerie silence as you both tried to sleep.

It was hard for you to fall asleep. The copper scent of Tim’s blood on your hands made you sick to your stomach . The substance was sticky and drying to your skin. Thane wasn’t allowing you to wash your hands, letting Tim’s blood dry on your hands in layers.

And when you woke up the next day it was your turn.

You were simply a punching bag. Though Thane would call it a ‘boxing match’. If you won, the next day you wouldn’t have to hurt Tim and you both got a decent meal with fresh water.

But you couldn’t win. 

You had gotten close the first few times. But Thane was an ex-Navy SEAL so he could take you down like it was nothing. And as time went on, you got weak. You didn’t have the energy to put up a decent fight and even give yourself hope. The only reason you still attempted was to keep Tim safe.

That night you sat on the floor with your head down and an arm clutching your side as your ribs ached. 

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. Tim grunted as he turned to look at you, “Why are you sorry?” You sniffled, “I can’t win…” “You’re not supposed to win. He just likes to give you hope…” 

“I can’t keep doing this Timmy… hurting you, I can’t…” 

“If you don’t-”

“Yeah, I know. But I’m not going to kill you… I couldn’t live with myself if I did.” 

You didn’t give him a chance to respond and just got in your bed and tried to sleep.

The next morning, Thane woke you up with gentle caresses on your face.

“Time to wake up,” he said gently, pulling you up and to your feet. “C’mon we have a big day ahead of us.” 

You whimpered as he pulled you over to a table, gun pressed to your lower back. “Pick your first weapon.”

You shake your head, tears spilling over, “No.” 

Thane growled and pulled harshly on your hair, making you look up at him. “You pick or I do, I won’t tell you again.” The gun digs into your back, “And you won’t like what I pick.”

You gritted your teeth as he pulled your hair harder, “I’m done playing your game. Shoot me.”

“Y/N, it’s okay…” Tim said, but his words were breathy. “I-I can take it.” 

“You hear that? He can take it,” Thane smirked before kissing your forehead. “Pick up the knife.”

“I said, no.”

He growled before slamming your face down on the table.

Tim looked away, jaw clenched as you cried out a little. You don’t blame him, you’d look away too. 

This position hadn’t been unfamiliar. 

Often after those boxing matches, Thane would use your weak state to release other frustrations. 

So you just closed your eyes and braced yourself.

“Oh look at you,” he cooed, his hand rubbing your back. “Mmmm you’ve learned. But right now isn’t about us. It’s about you and Tim. So pick up the knife or I will fuck you as you look your boyfriend in the eyes. Pick. It. Up.”

“Pick up the knife, Y/N…”

“Okay! Okay…”

Thane smirked and pulled you back up to stand. “Good girl.”

Your hand shook as you wrapped your fingers around the blade’s handle. The thought of turning and plunging it into your capture’s stomach flashed in your mind but you knew better. You weren’t fast enough and his trigger finger was quick.

Eyes filling with tears, Thane guided you forward.

“Stab him.”

Your eyes widened and you turned your head to face him. “W-what?”

“You heard me, stab him.”

“That wasn’t-”

“Do it or I'll shoot him in the head.”

You closed your eyes, sobbing as your hands shook violently. “It’s okay Y/N. It’s gonna be okay,” Tim reassured, kissing the top of your head.

But you didn’t believe him.

When it was just cuts or burns, it was easier to believe that he would be okay. But you could see that he was weak. He was shaking from blood loss and he could barely keep his eyes open. His voice was tired and breathy so he desperately tried to put authority in it.

But it wasn’t working.

You shook your head, crying openly as you brought up the knife.

He gritted his teeth and braced himself as you found a spot on his torso and pushed the tip of the blade in.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you whispered tearfully, pulling the knife back out. 

You watch horrified as blood leaks out of the new wound and down his side. You had hurt him, again. It made you feel sick.

Suddenly, Thane’s right in your ear, his eyes on the bare half inch of blood on the blade.

“Oh, come on now. Don’t waste my time,” he growled. He wrapped his arms around you and put his hands on top of yours. 

“No, no please,” you begged through your tears, trying to fight him.

But your resistance was used in Thane’s favor as he used your combined force to plunge the knife into Tim’s stomach.

You gasped, feeling the sickening warm feeling of fresh blood coating your hands.

Tim couldn't hold back his shout of agony, gritting his teeth as tears came to his eyes. 

Thane leaned in, laughing in your ear as you sobbed, “Look at that, seems like all you needed was just a little guidance.” 

You covered your mouth, smearing blood on your face as your eyes stayed unmoving from the knife handle. You could have collapsed to the floor in a sobbing heap if Thane hadn’t had arms around you.

“Ooooh not so fast there Y/N. One’s not going to cut it, sweetheart. Take it out and do it again.”

When you hesitated, Thane took your hands and wrapped them around the handle, “Take it-”

“LAPD DROP YOUR WEAPON AND PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR.”

You sobbed in relief as Thane turned to who you recognized to be John Nolan, Bishop’s rookie.

“Put your weapon down and kick it over to me.” 

Thane followed his instructions, smart enough to know that he was cornered. 

You held Tim’s face, “It’s gonna be okay baby. They’re here, just like you said they would be.”

Tim had been unconscious when you said that, finally succumbing to the pain.

“Officer Blake?”

You jumped at the call of your name, being pulled from your memories as you looked up to see the three rookies. Jackson was the one to address you.

“You don’t have to call me that anymore Officer West…”

He nodded and swallowed, “Right we’re out of uni-”

“No, I quit… I’m not an officer anymore.”

The rookies’ eyes widened and they shared a look when your eyes moved to Tim.

“But you’re great at your-” 

You cut John off, bitterness in your tone, “If I was good at my job he wouldn’t be in this bed…”

You took a breath, finally letting yourself touch him and grabbing Tim’s hand. “I should have been stronger…”

“Thane’s a psychopath, who knows what situation we would be in had you held out longer,” Lucy tried, watching your glass eyes as they looked over Tim. “That doesn’t make you a bad cop…”

“I don’t trust myself… and being a good team requires trust. I can’t go back out onto the street if I do not trust myself, that’s how people get hurt.”

You shook your head, letting it fall between your shoulders. “It took just a little guidance and I plunged a knife into the man I love…”

taglist: @bradleybeachbabe @mayhemmanaged @kmc1989 @lovinglyeternal @horseshoegirl @cassiemitchell @fanboyswhore9 @nightowlalltheway @86laura11 @els-marvelvsp @valmare @startrekfangirl2233

hi, if you're seeing this and are currently not on the taglist and would like to be please fill out the taglist form -> whumptober taglist

i can not stress this enough, but whumptober can have some very serious and heavy topics and i want to make sure i am doing my part as an author to prepare my readers for what they are about to experience and that includes not only warnings above but my taglists as well

so if you want to be added check out the masterlist and read that carefully and fill out the form -> whumptober 2023

[chogiwow]

in hindsight (a broken car isn’t that bad) | sim jake

pairing: jake x gn!reader ; niki makes a cameo (reader’s brother)

genre: fluff

wc: 1.7k+

warnings: mention of a condom bUT NOTHING HAPPENS !!

summary: brother’s best friend x brother’s sibling ; where they’re stuck stranded with a dead car :>

a/n: digging things out of my drafts and changing it to different members haha idek how long back i wrote this but eh :>

what had started off as a small favour for a ride back home in jake’s car, had quickly turned into an awkwardly uncomfortable hitch ride in a towing truck, your shoulders squished against his and your legs bumping ever so often as the truck jerked and jostled down a bumpy road to what was to be your makeshift shelter for the night; a motel.

while jake was mentally questioning his entire existence, flinching whenever he leaned too much to your side whenever the truck took a long turn, that he could feel your shoulder pressing into his side, he also had this urgent desire to apologise to you for everything, but had to bite on his tongue out of sheer embarrassment that stopped him from doing it in the presence of the driver. you on the other hand, flushed giddily whenever you felt him lean into you, catching a whiff of his fading pine scent and his freshly dyed blonde hair tickling your cheeks, biting your inner cheeks at the proximity.

not how you had imagined your day to go, but if you were at all to complain, it would only be the fact that you had called your brother on speaker mode, and he had wasted no time in cackling at you and quite literally announcing your small little crush on jake in an overly exaggerated manner, with the said boy himself blinking down at your phone screen, the words in his throat stuck as your eyes darted between him and the crackling static on your phone, before promptly putting him off the speaker and whisper yelling at your brother.

“niki, you fucking idiot…”

your interjection was only received with another obnoxious laugh, and an equally annoying ‘i’m eating the last slice of the cheesecake, have fun and don't get too wild!” before you hear the beeping sound of the receiver, signalling that the call had been ended.

so in retrospect, you weren’t complaining at all, you were just fervently wishing for the ground to swallow you up whole. and erase you from existence, if conditions proved favourable.

now your brother’s best friend knew of your crush on him, and while you stubbornly kept your eyes trained outside the window, missing the smile on his face, it did not help your case that you felt his arm around your shoulder after a while, his fingers nudging you, causing you to gasp and turn to him.

if only a smile could kill, you’d be buried six feet under by the way you felt your knees buckle under you and insides melting like a pudgy cone of ice cream.

“you can rest on my shoulder, it’s going to be a long ride,” jake said, gesturing towards his shoulder while you regarded him with your best straight face you could muster, ignoring the warmth across your cheeks and consciously thaning the stars that it was dark enough for him to not notice.

nodding at his offer meekly, your stiffened body eases itself slowly in his semi embrace, biting down on your lips when his hand rests on your waist. the closeness was something you had only ever imagined, but never dared to wish upon yourself, relishing rather, in the way he would smile at you when your eyes met or wave at you when you came home to a messy living room and your ass of a brother (you were only grateful to him for inviting his friend over). 

the ride is quiet, except the low hum of the engine and the occasional jerks in the road; even the driver is quiet as he steers the wheel, his eyes focused on the road while you and jake simply relish in each other’s touch. you’re tired and fall asleep, finally at ease in the way he makes it seem like there was no rush nor any immediate consequences to your revelation, even though hints of awkwardness remained in the way you both decidedly ignore the elephant in the room.

stirring you awake as he thanked the driver, who merely grunted in response, undoubtedly tired himself at the late call, jake finds himself missing your warmth once you reach your destination. he’s unsure whether this was the first time he felt your absence to this extent, or whether niki’s words had belated him to this point.

as he gazes at the rundown motel with peeling walls with some apprehension, he notices your tired state beside him, rubbing your sleepy eyes and blinking at the tacky lighting in front of the cashier, unconsciously sticking to his side and holding on to his jacket under the gaze of the cashier. he pushes you behind him gently, calling the attention on himself as he deals with the room and other requirements, blushing suddenly when the man behind the counter hands him a small packet and whispers something in his ears which you don’t catch, frowning when jake glances at you and reverts his gaze almost immediately, clearing his throat almost pretentiously.

“what was that about?” you question, and he waves it off dismissively, quickening his pace when you kept pestering him and laughing when he almost tripped on his own feet.

predictably, the one bed situation had arisen and while it didn’t daunt you as much as it had been made to seem like in books and movies, you accounted for it due to your exhaustion; you were dead tired and ready to pass out the moment your head hit the pillow. it took a few trials for jake to convince you to take a shower, and one last threat to pick you up himself and place you under the cold shower, for you to drag yourself to the tiny washroom and yelp at the cold water hitting your skin. but that was seemingly a bad idea, for the water had only woken you up from your drowsy state and now you were hyper aware of every little action and every little sound in the very little room lit only by a singular yellow lighting, it’s default brightness dimmed down such that it was merely a night light.

as you lay quite awake in the bed you were soon to share with him, the sound of shower water trickling through the closed door, you curled up even more to your side, leaving a considerably large space for him on the ridiculously small mattress. everything in this room, including itself, seemed to be small and cramped, as if it’s entire purpose was to bring people close till you could hear them breathe. you knew by the way the door clicked and the familiar whiff of pine scent, that he was out of the shower and you risked a glance towards him. rubbing his head with a towel, jake made his way to the bed, discarding the piece of cloth on the lone chair with wobbly legs that had been provided as a sorry excuse of a piece of furniture, and plopping down beside you with a groan.

how was he not affected by this? how is it that you’re so affected by this?

sighing to yourself, you will yourself to sleep, ignoring the dull clenching of your chest at his nonchalance, oblivious to the small frown that etches across his forehead when you turn your back to him, pulling the sheets up to your chin and curling in on yourself. he was hoping to talk to you, but you seemed too tired and rather unreceptive of a conversation, and he isn’t sure whether it was because of something he had done or your own weariness.

you’re starting to convince yourself that by morning you would be over this, a bittersweet ending to your unprecedented confession, and if you were lucky, you wouldn’t have to avoid his presence and he’d be willing to remain friends after rejecting you but your thoughts are halted when his voice breaks that train.

“can we talk?”

you’re pensive at the tone of his voice, turning around to face him apprehensively, only to find him already staring at you unblinkingly.

“is it about earlier? if it is, then you don’t need to worry, niki was just....well, he wasn’t joking, but if it makes you feel uncomfortable then i’ll get over my feelings for you. i’d even stay out of your way if you want, and i know you like that freshman but honestly, i was going to keep this myself until obviously my ass of a brother had to spill it, so really just–”

“(y/n), do you want to go on a date when we get back?”

“–yes of course, anything you want and i promise...wait, what?”

jake smiles at you amusedly, raising an eyebrow when you regard him with confusion, propping yourself slightly on your elbow.

“what did you just say?”

“don’t get over your feelings for me yet, i’ve been looking forward to asking you out on a date for such a long time…”

the way he looks at you so hopefully, but with that teasing lilt to his voice that trembles at the corners as if apprehensive of how far he was shooting his shot, and yet through the obvious signs of his nervousness, you sensed a genuinity to his endeavours, and you couldn’t ignore the way his expectant eyes held your gaze so softly.

jake looks like he’s got a lot to say, but he’s saving it all up for days that don’t involve a broken car and a motel room and the embarrassingly loud crinkling sound of the condom packet in his jacket pocket. there’s so much he wants to talk to you about, too much he’s had on his mind he needs to talk to you about, but somehow he knows he won’t even be able to say a third of those things tonight; not when he could be snuggling on a small bed with his arms around you and a lingering worry of getting his car fixed the very first thing in the morning.

in hindsight, perhaps a broken car really wasn’t that bad of an accident, nor was your predicament. sometimes, a broken car and an annoyingly loud brother are what you need for an awkward confession and countless dates to come in the future.

[nyxshadowhawk]

I Read The Silmarillion So You Don't Have To, Part Seven

Previous part.

Chapter 18: Of the Ruin of Beleriand and the Fall of Fingolfin In which everything goes to hell. Again.

Remember the Siege of Angband? Yeah, that’s still going on. It’s been roughly two hundred years since Morgoth’s last attack (the first appearance of Glaurung the Dragon), and in all that time, the Elves haven’t made much progress. Fingolfin, the High King of the Noldor, considers launching another assault on Angband; his people are strong, and now they have the Men on their side. What Could Possibly Go Wrong?

Fingolfin by Insant

The other Noldor are less enthused by this idea. For once, things are pretty great. Why risk the peace and prosperity that the Elves currently have for the chance at defeating Morgoth, when there’s bound to be massive loss of life either way? Only the Elven lords who live in the far north — on Morgoth’s doorstep — agree with Fingolfin, since they can’t ignore Morgoth as easily. They’re shot down by everyone else, so, there’s peace for a little while longer.

That’s when Morgoth makes his move.

Morgoth has been steadily gathering his forces throughout all of that time, and he’s also grown more and more spiteful. He doesn’t just want to defeat the Noldor, he wants to defile their homeland. But his hatred has also made him impatient.

One winter, on a dark night, without any warning, rivers of lava suddenly come pouring down the Thangorodrim, which belch poisonous gases into the air, rendering the whole plain of Ard-galen a barren wasteland overnight. Also, unlike with natural volcanoes, the damage is permanent — Ard-galen becomes known as Angfauglith, which means “Gasping Dust.” Instant Mordor, Just Add Lava. Many poor Elves are swallowed up by the lava before they can react.

As if that weren’t bad enough, Glaurung returns, accompanied by Balrogs and entire armies of Orcs — more Orcs than the Noldor have ever previously seen. The ensuing battle lasts all winter, as Morgoth’s forces return fire on the Noldor. It becomes known as Dagor Bragollach, the Battle of Sudden Flame.

Battle of Sudden Flame by Jovan Delic

There are many casualties. Angrod and Aegnor, the brothers of Finrod and Galadriel, both die in the battle. Finrod himself gets cut off in the Fen of Serech, and almost dies, but he’s rescued at the last minute by a Man named Barahir. Finrod escapes with his life, barely, and manages to make it back to his palace in Nargothrond. Finrod pledges undying friendship to Barahir, promises to help him and his family in return if they should ever need him, and gives him his ring as a token of his promise. It’s a ring shaped like two intertwined snakes, set with green stones, and it becomes known as the Ring of Barahir.

Finrod in the Fen of Serech by pansen1802

Incredibly, Fingolfin and co. manage to hang on to their land of Hithlum, but not without heavy losses. Hador Lórindol, one of the Kings of Men who was Fingolfin’s thane, dies in the battle. In the East, Fëanor’s sons aren’t doing great, either — Celegorm and Curufin are both defeated, but not killed; they retreat all the way to Nargothrond and hide there with Finrod. Caranthir’s land is ravaged, too.

Maedhros, however, “burned like a white fire.” He’s been dying to get his revenge on Morgoth for having strung him up on Thangorodrim, and personally slaughters so many Orcs that they start to run in fear of him. He manages to hang on to his fortress, and many people rally to him, including his brother Maglor.

Finrod, Fingon, and Maedhros by star热爱生活呀巴扎嘿

Overall, the battle is really bad. Fingolfin stares out over the ruined lands, sees his family scattered, and realizes the Noldor are done for. He’s filled with rage and despair, but he isn’t ready to give up yet. There’s only one thing to do. He mounts his horse, Rochallor, and rides straight to the gates of Angband. Those who see him think he must be Oromë, the Vala of the hunt, because he burns with fury and his eyes glow. He blows his warhorn, bangs on the gates of Angband, and challenges Morgoth himself to a duel.

That may be the ballsiest move of any Elf so far (and yes, I’m counting Fëanor going up against an army of Balrogs).

Fingolfin’s Challenge by Jenny Dolfen

Now, throughout all this, Morgoth has spent most of his time hiding in his fortress. Sure, he’s a Vala, and technically the most powerful being in Middle-earth, but he doesn’t fight his own battles. Fingolfin calls him a coward who’d rather send out all of his evil minions to fight for him than come and face him like a man. Morgoth can’t ignore that. So, to the surprise of everyone, Morgoth actually comes. And we get this badass description, which I’m going to transcribe, because I can’t do Tolkien justice:

Therefore Morgoth came, climbing slowly from his subterranean throne, and the rumour of his feet was like thunder underground. And he issued forth clad in black armour; and he stood before the King like a tower, iron-crowned, and his vast shield, sable-blazoned, cast a shadow over him like a stormcloud. But Fingolfin gleamed beneath it as a star; for his mail was overlaid with silver, and his blue shield was set with crystals; and he drew his sword Ringil, that glittered like ice.

Oh, it is on!

Fingolfin vs. Morgoth by Marchesi

The Fall of Fingolfin by Wavesheep

The battle is epic. Morgoth tries to smash Fingolfin with his hammer, called Grond (GROND! GROND! GROND! GROND!), but Fingolfin is too quick. Every time GROND hits the earth, it creates a volcanic cleft in the earth. The battle is compared to a thunderstorm, with the strikes of Morgoth’s hammer being the thunder and Fingolfin darting around being the lightning. Fingolfin actually manages to wound Morgoth, seven times! Each time, Morgoth howls so loud that all of the Orcs cringe in fear.

Fingolfin can’t keep it up forever, though. He’s mortal, and he’s going up against something near to a god. Three times, Morgoth crushes him with his shield, and three times Fingolfin is able to pick himself back up again. He doesn’t have much space to move anymore, because the ground around him is full of holes. He stumbles and falls, and Morgoth presses his foot to Fingolfin’s neck. It’s like getting an entire hill dropped on top of him. Fingolfin isn’t going to go peacefully, though — with his last bit of strength, he cuts deep into Morgoth’s foot.

Fingolfin dies, and thus passes the strongest and most valiant of the Elven kings. The Elves are so sad to lose him that they don’t even sing about the battle. The Orcs don’t gloat about it, either, even though Morgoth won — it was kind of a Pyrrhic victory, because it’s embarrassing that a mere mortal was able to do so much damage to Morgoth. The reason why we know what happened, despite the lack of songs about it, is because Thorondor (the King of the Eagles) brings the news to Gondolin and Hithlum.

Thorondor also saves Fingolfin’s body from being desecrated by Morgoth. Morgoth goes to throw Fingolfin’s corpse to the wolves, but Thorondor swoops down and claws him in the face. Thorondor brings Fingolfin’s body to Gondolin, and Turgon builds a cairn for his father in the surrounding hills. For a while, Fingolfin’s tomb acts almost like a charm that keeps the Orcs away. (But not forever though. Because, in case you forgot, Gondolin is doomed.)

Morgoth’s wounds are permanent. His seven initial wounds never heal, he now limps everywhere he goes because Fingolfin damaged his foot, and his face is also scarred where Thorondor got him.

All of Hithlum mourns Fingolfin’s death. Fingon, in his grief, becomes the sole High King of the Noldor.

Fingon by Moimq

There’s an interesting note here: Fingon sends “his young son Ereinion (who was later named Gil-galad) […] to the Havens.” This is an outright inconsistency. In other sources, Gil-galad is the grandson of Angrod, Finrod’s brother. So, it’s legitimately unclear who Gil-galad’s father was. Oh well. Distant legendary past, oral tradition and all that. I’m sure the songs disagree on whose parents are whose all the time.

And, the “Havens” referred to here aren’t the Grey Havens, either. They’re two cities in the southwest of Beleriand. But they’re ruled by the same Elf, Círdan, who would rule the Grey Havens later.

Morgoth is now in control of most of northern Beleriand. Barahir, the Man who helped save Finrod, keeps fighting for some time, alongside his wife Emeldir. But Morgoth destroys their land little by little. That land becomes so dark and evil that even Orcs avoid it, and it gets a new name: Taur-nu-Fuin, “The Forest under Nightshade” (which is cool as hell). This forest is like a proto-Mirkwood. Its trees become tangled with claw-like roots and branches, and it becomes full of angry spirits that can drive travelers mad.

The situation gets so dire that Emeldir leads her people away. They end up in the Forest of Brethil, which is where Haleth, another badass warrior-queen of Men, led her people in a similar moment of desperation. All of Barahir’s men are killed fighting Morgoth except for a small handful (whose names are all listed, of course). The Elves don’t come to help them, so they become desperate, hunted outcasts who live in the wilderness. One of these outcasts is Beren, Barahir’s son, who’s about to become very important.

The Elves managed to maintain control over Minas Tirith, the tower that guards the pass separating Morgoth’s lands in the north from the rest of Beleriand. This tower is maintained by Orodreth, Angrod’s son and Finrod’s nephew. But after two years pass, the tower is besieged by Morgoth’s lieutenant, Sauron.

Sauron by Wavesheep

(Oh yeah I’ve been waiting to dip into my self-indulgent collection of Sauron pictures.)

At this point, the Elves call Sauron “Gorthaur the Cruel.” He has become…

a sorcerer of dreadful power, master of shadows and of phantoms, foul in wisdom, cruel in strength, misshaping what he touched, twisting what he ruled; his dominion was torment.

He’s basically like Morgoth 2.0, and there’s very little left of him that is still Mairon, the Maia smith that he once was. Still, Sauron and Morgoth aren’t interchangeable; while Sauron is certainly very evil, he doesn’t think the same way that Morgoth does. If you’re familiar with the D&D alignment chart, Morgoth is pure Chaotic Evil — he doesn’t have a motive beyond fucking things up as much as possible. Sauron is more Lawful Evil, more like an evil dictator. Morgoth wants to watch the world burn (and just did, a moment ago); Sauron wants to rule over the ashes.

Sauron’s assault on Minas Tirith is successful. (If Sauron had a nickel for every time he besieged a tower called Minas Tirith, he’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice.) He conjures a cloud of pure terror that causes Orodreth and his men to panic, and flee to Narthothrond. Then, much like Sauron would corrupt Minas Ithil and Osgiliath eons later, he transforms Minas Tirith into an evil watchtower. Tol Sirion, the island where it’s located, becomes known as Tol-in-Gaurhoth, the Isle of Werewolves.

Lord of Werewolves by Dracontessa

After that, things only get worse. The Orcs spread across Beleriand, kidnapping Elves and desecrating all the land around Doriath. Morgoth sends out a bunch of spies to sow discord in every kingdom, hoping to win a psychological battle. Because of the Curse, most of the Noldor believe the sugary lies. The dirtiest trick that Morgoth pulls is setting free some of the Elves that he took captive, while keeping them under his control. This causes the Noldor to distrust even their own families.

With Men, Morgoth tries a different tactic. He attempts to turn them against the Elves by pointing out that the Men are inferior to Elves, and that the Noldor are inherently untrustworthy and untrusting. He promises the Men that if they come and join him, “the rightful Lord of Middle-earth,” then they’ll have honor and rewards and yada, yada. The Men don’t fall for this, which makes Morgoth even more spiteful towards them.

The Three Great Houses of Men are in complete disarray at this point. The house of Bëor —Barahir and his people — is basically destroyed, with the remainder barely surviving in the wilderness. The House of Hador are all stuck in Hithlum, and Hador himself is dead. The only remaining Men in the rest of Beleriand are the house of Haleth — the Haladin — who live in the Forest of Brethil. They’re one of the last lines of defense between Nargothrond and Morgoth’s onslaught. Hador’s grandsons, Húrin and Huor, are camped out in the Forest of Brethil with the Haladin. Halmir, the current leader of the Haladin, sends for backup, and a small army of Sindar Elves from Doriath come to help defend the forest. With the Elves’ help, the Men drive back the Orcs.

Húrin and Huor are some of our major players among the Men. They’re brothers, and they’re currently teenagers. Back before the battle, their father married Halmir’s daughter, so they’re members of the Haladin on their mom’s side. During the battle, they are separated from the rest of their company, but Ulmo protects them with a magical mist from the River Sirion, and then Thorondor rescues them when they wander near his mountains. Thorondor sends two eagles to pick them up, and the eagles bring them to Gondolin. Húrin and Huor become the first Men to ever see the secret Elven city of Gondolin.

By Mysilvergreen

King Turgon receives them well. He’d gotten a prophetic dream from Ulmo, telling him he’ll need the Men’s help when things get bad, so he takes them in as his honored guests. Húrin and Huor live in the mystical Elven city for a year, and they learn a lot from Turgon in that time. Turgon wants to keep them in Gondolin, not just because of his proclaimation that no one can ever leave it, but also because he genuinely loves them. Eventually, though, they want to go home.

Remember how well that went the last time, with Aredhel?

Húrin reminds Turgon that Men don’t live very long, so he and his brother can’t just wait until things cool off, especially with their family thinking they’re dead. Also, they were carried into the city by eagles, so they have no idea where the entrance is and probably couldn’t find it again on their own. Turgon thinks that this is reasonable, and agrees to let them go, so long as Thorondor is willing to let them leave the way they came, by eagle-taxi.

But Maeglin — remember him? He’s the edgy Elf — Maeglin is happy that Húrin and Huor are leaving, because they’ve been soaking up all the king’s attention. Maeglin snidely tells Húrin that Turgon wasn’t so lenient in the past, like that time he threw Maeglin’s father off the walls.

To pacify Maeglin, Húrin and Huor swear an oath not to reveal anything about Gondolin. As you’ve probably gathered by now, oaths are serious business. I almost guarantee that this is going to bite them in the ass.

When Húrin and Huor return home, their family is overjoyed to see them, because they all thought that the brothers had died in the wilderness. Their father, Galdor, asks where they’ve been, and why they look like princes instead of like they’ve been living in the wilderness for a year. Húrin tells him that the only reason they were allowed to return at all was if they swore not to speak about it, so… don’t ask.

Meanwhile, King Turgon learns that the Siege of Angband is officially over, and Morgoth killed Fingolfin. Turgon doesn’t want to involve himself in the war, at least not yet — Gondolin is a secret safe haven for now, and he wants it to stay that way for as long as possible. It’s like the Wakanda of Elven cities.

However, Turgon also realizes that this is the beginning of the end for the Noldor, unless they can find some outside source of help. He sends secret bands of Gondolin Elves to sail to Valinor. That’s a truly desperate move, since the Noldor are exiles, and Valinor has wanted nothing to do with Middle-earth for centuries. Unfortunately, none of Turgon’s emissaries make it; the western sea has become much more dangerous ever since Valinor cut itself off. The sea is full of enchantments and illusions, and Valinor itself is hidden. There’s no way to get to it. With every failed mission, Gondolin’s doom inches closer and closer.

Guess who hears about it? Morgoth. Morgoth is very interested to know what happened to Finrod and Turgon, because Elven kings don’t just vanish off the face of the earth. He knows they must be somewhere, probably plotting a new scheme to take him down. He knows what Nargothrond is, but not where it is, and he knows nothing about Gondolin. In the Battle of Sudden Flame, he made the mistake of underestimating the strength of the Elves and Men. Although he won the battle, they managed to hit him back just as badly. He’s not about to make that mistake again.

Morgoth attacks Hithlum again. King Fingon is outnumbered, but rescued at the last minute by ships full of warriors sent by Círdan. The Elves win the battle, but King Galdor, Húrin and Huor’s father, dies in the same spot where his own father fell during the Battle of Sudden Flame. Húrin becomes the new patriarch of his house, and serves as Fingon’s thane. He marries Morwen Eledhwen, a woman of the house of Bëor, who fled the Forest under Nightshade for the Forest of Brethil alongside Queen Emeldir.

Húrin by Steamey

The House of Bëor is by this point reduced to only one man, Emeldir and Barahir’s son, Beren.

Chapter 19: Of Beren and Lúthien, Part One In which we hear the greatest love story ever told.

This is the first of what Tolkien called “The Great Tales,” some of the oldest stories in the Legendarium, all of which were ultimately unfinished. To put into perspective just what a big deal this story is, Tolkien and his wife Edith have the names “Beren” and “Lúthien” written on their respective headstones. The version here in the Silmarillion is the most complete, but it’s also an abridged version. This is how Tolkien introduces it:

Among the tales of sorrow and of ruin that come down to us from the darkness of those days there are yet some in which amid weeping there is joy and under the shadow of death light that endures. And of these histories most fair still in the ears of the Elves is the tale of Beren and Lúthien.

Most of my retelling here is paraphrased from the Silmarillion, but I’ve included some details that appear only in the Lay of Leithian, Tolkien’s unfinished poetic telling of the story. It’s really worth going and reading the Lay of Leithian; it’s extremely vivid and evocative, it perfectly imitates the medieval poetic form.

The story doesn’t actually start with Beren. It starts with an account of what happened to Barahir and his remaining men after they fled the Forest under Nightshade. They ended up camping out beside a lake called Tarn Aeluin, which is beautiful and reflects the stars. It was supposedly blessed by Queen Melian, and her magic repels the evil creatures that took over the rest of the forest. Barahir and co. are well hidden there, but Morgoth commands Sauron to find them.

One of Barahir’s people is a man named Gorlim, who has a wife, Eilinel. They love each other even despite the war, but when Gorlim returned home one day after a battle, he found his house empty and Eilinel gone. He still follows his people and hides out near the lake, but he holds out hope that maybe his wife isn’t dead. He periodically leaves the secret safe haven and returns to the empty house, hoping that his wife will be there. One time, he sees the lights on and hears her voice, but it’s a trap — Sauron found him. Sauron tortures Gorlim to force him to reveal the location of Barahir’s secret camp, but Gorlim holds out. That is, until Sauron tells him to name his price. Gorlim asks to see his wife again.

Then Sauron smiled, saying, “That is a small price for so great a treachery. So shall it surely be. Say on!”

Poor Gorlim reveals the location of Barahir’s camp. Then, with a mocking laugh, Sauron reveals that Eilinel is dead, and that he cast an illusion to ensnare him. “Oh, but don’t worry, I’ll still send you to her,” he says, and then kills him. They don’t call him Gorthaur the Cruel for nothing.

By @ayaosguqin

See, this is one of the things that makes Sauron different from Morgoth. Morgoth is spiteful and enjoys sewing discord and causing destruction for the sake of it, but we haven’t seen this kind of calculated sadism from him yet. (There’s not much that’s subtle about busting in with a giant spider and killing trees.) Sauron, having been a Maia of Aulë, has an appreciation for subtlety and craftsmanship. Sauron likes to stick the knife in and twist it. And as The Lord of the Rings makes clear, he’s a master of psychological warfare.

Now that Sauron knows where the secret camp is, his forces attack the men at Tarn Aeluin. They massacre everyone, save Beren. Beren is out on a spy mission when the Orcs attack, and he has a dream in which Gorlim’s ghost appears to him to tell him what happened. Beren rides back, but it’s already too late. He finds his father and everyone else dead.

Beren builds a cairn for his father and swears vengeance. He hunts down all the Orcs, slaughtering them by himself. He sneaks near their camp, where they’re gloating and holding up his father’s hand as a trophy. On the severed hand is a ring, the ring that Finrod Felagund gave to Barahir. Beren swoops in, steals the hand with the ring, and runs off before the Orcs have a chance to react.

Beren lives by himself in the wilderness for some time. He befriends the animals, and becomes a vegetarian as a result. He manages to perform many heroic deeds just in that time, so that he becomes famous. He’s already such a legend that Morgoth puts a price on his head, just as high as that of King Fingon himself, but the Orcs are so afraid of Beren that they avoid him instead of hunting him. Morgoth resolves to send an entire army after Beren, and not just any army — an army of werewolves, captained by Sauron himself.

The werewolves are enough to chase Beren away from the land where he buried his father. He heads south, towards Doriath. He resolves to pass through Queen Melian’s magic wall, for some reason. (Maybe because it’s the only guaranteed safe place?) He travels along sheer mountain cliffs, and through the spider-infested wastes that had been twisted by a combination of Sauron’s magic and Melian’s magic. That land was basically the Mordor of its day, and no one knows how Beren got through it; whatever he experienced there was terrifying enough that he never spoke of it again. When he arrives at the magic wall, he passes right through like it isn’t even there. This event had been predicted by Melian herself: ‘because the power of that Man’s destiny will overcome her own. People will sing about that event until the distant future, when Middle-earth is unrecognizable.’

He finds himself in the north of Doriath, a forest called Neldoreth. He’s exhausted and harrowed, having spent years traveling through a cursed land. But everything in Neldoreth is beautiful, it’s summertime, and Beren sees a beautiful Elf maiden dancing on the grass. It’s Lúthien, the daughter of King Thingol and Queen Melian themselves. Lúthien is the most beautiful person alive. (Like, metaphysically.) Being the child of a Maia, she is more or less a demigoddess.

Encounter of Beren and Lúthien by Elena Kukanova

Beren is instantly smitten. In fact, he’s literally enchanted by her — just watching her casts a spell on him. When she suddenly vanishes, he literally can’t speak. He wanders the woods like an animal, searching for her. He doesn’t know her name, so he calls her Tinúviel, which means “Nightingale” in Sindarin. A whole year passes, and he sees her in the beauty of nature around him, like she’s a ghost and he’s fondly recalling her memory. A whole winter later, she reappears, and sings a song so beautiful that it brings spring back to the woods:

Keen, heart-piercing was her song as the song of the lark that rises from the gates of night and pours its voice among the dying stars, seeing the sun behind the walls of the world; and the song of Lúthien released the bonds of winter, and the frozen waters spoke, and flowers sprang from the cold earth where her feet had passed.

When he hears her song, Beren can suddenly speak again. He calls out to her, using the name “Tinúviel.” Luckily for him, Lúthien falls just as in love with him upon seeing him. The narrator says that “doom fell upon her” as soon as she loved him back, which could mean either that she met her destiny or that she is going to die for her love. Probably both.

Beren goes to embrace her, but she vanishes again as soon as day breaks. Beren immediately feels a mixture of ecstasy and anguish. He falls into a coma, and has nightmares about groping through the dark to find the

vanished light. (I’m starting to note parallels between Lúthien and the Two Trees, and also the Silmarils.) But Beren’s anguish is nothing to Lúthien’s. Now that she’s fallen in love with a mortal, her fate is inextricably intertwined with his. She’s no longer free.

Lúthien returns to Beren and wakes him from his coma. They walk through the woods together, blissfully in love, throughout that spring and summer. Presumably they talk and actually get to know each other in that time.

A sudden in love by breath-art and aglargon

There’s another person who loves Lúthien, an Elven bard named Daeron. He spies on Beren and Lúthien in the woods. Jealous that Lúthien loves Beren instead of him, he goes and tattles to Thingol about their relationship. (In the Lay of Leithian, Daeron — in his envy — is able to cast a spell of silence upon Beleriand, so that there is no music or even birdsong.) Thingol is immediately furious, because he’s extremely overprotective of his daughter, and he hates Men. He confronts Lúthien about her new boyfriend, but she refuses to say anything until Thingol promises that he won’t hurt or imprison Beren. Lúthien personally leads him before her father’s throne.

Beren and Luthien in the Court of Thingol by Donato Giancola

Thingol demands to know who Beren is, but he’s so intimidating that Beren is stunned into silence. Lúthien answers for him. Thingol tells Lúthien to back off and let Beren speak for himself. What’s Beren’s excuse for entering the forbidden realm of Doriath? Beren’s response is very poetic and eloquent, but basically boils down to “I want to fuck your daughter.”

There’s pin-drop silence in the hall as the assembled Elves wait for Thingol to smite Beren. Thingol immediately regrets his promise not to harm him. Thingol’s response is to fold his hands, smile coldly, and say,

(I mean, it’s not these exact words, but it’s close enough.)

Thingol accuses Beren of being a spy and a thrall of Morgoth, at which Beren takes offense. Beren isn’t afraid of death, but he won’t allow himself to be insulted by any Elf, even a king. His father was a lord of Men and he deserves to be treated like a prince! He has a ring given to his father by Finrod himself, for Eru’s sake! He holds up the ring, and all the Elves see it. This is the Ring of Barahir, which will eventually get passed down to Aragorn. The jewels set in it were originally cut by the Noldor in Valinor itself.

Melian whispers to her husband that he won’t be the one to kill Beren. Beren has a lot more stuff he’s destined to do, but his destiny is still intertwined with Thingol’s. Whatever Thingol does next will seal his own fate, too. Thingol proceeds to choose the stupidest thing possible.

Beren wants to marry the Faerie King’s daughter. So, as is common in fairy tales, Thingol sets him an impossible task that he must complete to earn Lúthien’s hand: He must steal a Silmaril from the crown of Morgoth. Thingol feels like this the nearest thing to a fair price for his daughter. Of course, like most mythological kings, he’s hoping that Beren will die in the attempt.

You can just hear Melian’s facepalm through the page.

As is hopefully clear by now, the Silmarils are like a bomb waiting to go off. Everything about them is fraught — from the fact that they contain the last light of the Trees, to Morgoth’s obsession with them, to the Curse laid on all Fëanor’s sons for their unbreakable oath to get them back, etc. etc. Thingol’s choice to get involved in that shitshow was a dumb fucking idea. It’s not really his place to say or do anything concerning the Silmarils, and he effectively dooms his own kingdom by involving himself with them. In fact, by doing so, Thingol subjects himself to the same Curse that affects all the Noldor — you know, the reason he banished them from his kingdom and banned their language in the first place.

But that’s getting ahead of ourselves. Let’s get back to Beren, who responds to this by literally laughing it off and calling it easy:

“For little price,” he said, “do Elven-kings sell their daughters: for gems, and things made by craft. But if this be your will, Thingol, then I will perform it. And when we meet again my hand shall hold a Silmaril from the Iron Crown; for you have not looked the last on Beren son of Barahir.”

I like the parallelism here: Both Beren and Sauron call something that’s extraordinarily valuable to someone else a “little price” or “small price.” Obviously, we’re supposed to side with Beren in this instance, but I wonder if his pride will be his fall.

Having received his main quest, Beren leaves Menegroth.

Menegroth by David Gresit

Melian tells Thingol what an idiot he is for involving himself in the Main Plot and forsaking his kingdom’s safety in isolation. She can’t protect him from whatever happens next. Thingol is pretty confident that Beren’s going to die, which proves that he’s not Genre Savvy enough to make good decisions from here on out. He should really listen to his wife.

Lúthien doesn’t quite enter “but Daddy, I love him!” territory, but she does stop singing. All of Doriath is eerily silent.

Beren travels west, towards the River Sirion, and then to Nargothrond. Being alone and with no resources, he doesn’t have any other option but to go to Finrod for help. He wisely holds up the Ring of Barahir as he enters Finrod’s territory, because it was originally Finrod’s ring, and his Elf snipers would know not to shoot. Knowing that he was being watched by an army’s worth of hidden Elves, he randomly yells out “I am Beren son of Barahir! Take me to your King!” in the middle of a field in the hopes that someone will hear him and decide not to kill him. After doing this several times, he’s apprehended by the archers and taken to Finrod.

Finrod receives Beren warmly. Privately, Beren tells Finrod about his father’s death and about meeting Lúthien. He cries more over remembering Lúthien than remembering his father. Remember, Finrod promised to help Barahir or any member of his family in need, because they had saved him. So, he has no choice but to help Beren retrieve a Silmaril, even though he knows it will not go well.

Finrod by yidanyuan

He tells Beren, ‘Well, it’s obvious that Thingol wants you dead, but if anyone so much as mentions the Silmarils, the sons of Fëanor are on them like a pack of wolves. Celegorm and Curufin are powerful lords in my court, and I can’t risk antagonizing them. If they find out you want a Silmaril, they’ll kill you. But I made a promise to your father, so I have to help you. In short, we’re all screwed.’

For some reason, Finrod decides that the best thing to do is to be as transparent as possible. So, he summons his court and stands before his people. He tells them all about the promise he made to Barahir, and how he is therefore obligated to help Beren. He asks his lords for help. Celegorm’s response is predictable. He repeats the Oath of Fëanor, reaffirming that the sons of Fëanor will hunt down anything alive that dares to seek a Silmaril. He goes on a tirade as impassioned as the one that Fëanor originally gave to the Noldor back in Valinor. (Like father, like son, I guess.) Then Curufin speaks, more quietly. What he says boils down to: ‘Nice kingdom you’ve got here, Finrod. Would really be a shame if something happened to it.’

Celegorm and Curufin, by Julia Reizen

Curufin’s speech scares the Elves of Nargothrond so much that they avoid open war for decades, preferring guerilla warfare with arrows, poisoned darts, and magic. According to Tolkien, this is less valorous than open combat, and diminishes their whole society.

Say what you will about Fëanor and his brood, they’re damn good at public speaking.

The Elves of Nargothrond begin to murmur amongst themselves that Finrod can’t tell them what to do as though he’s a Vala (even though he’s… y’know… the king), and all of them refuse to help him. The Curse is in full effect: Celegorm and Curufin realize that this is a golden opportunity to send Finrod alone to his death, and take over Nargothrond for themselves.

Finrod reads the room. He takes off his crown, and throws it at his feet, renouncing his rulership of the kingdom that he built. He looks directly at Celegorm and Curufin and tells them that while they may be faithless bastards who will break their oath of loyalty to him, he will not break his own promise to Barahir. He addresses the rest of the room — there’s got to be at least a few people who haven’t been affected by the Curse, and who will follow him, so that he isn’t pathetically driven out of his own kingdom. Right? A grand total of ten people stand up for him. One of them, Edrahil, picks up Finrod’s crown, and says that it should be given to a steward instead of being left for Celegorm and Curufin to snatch. Whatever happens, he says, Finrod is still the true king of Nargothrond. #IStandWithFinrod.

Finrod chooses Orodreth, his nephew (or youngest brother; sources differ), as his steward. Celegorm and Curufin just smile and withdraw from the room, which isn’t creepy at all.

Finrod and Beren leave Nargothrond with their ten loyalists. They travel north, come upon a band of Orcs, and kill them all. Finrod uses a magical illusion to disguise his company as Orcs, and they sneak through the mountain pass towards Angband. Sauron finds them anyway, and intercepts them. Sauron and Finrod engage in — of all things — a singing competition. It’s very similar in principle to “the oldest game” from Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman, in that it’s a battle between dueling concepts that are instantaneously manifested as the singers describe them. Sauron sings about treachery, betrayal, uncovering secrets, piercing through things, and sorcery. Finrod answers with a song about resistance against evil, keeping secrets, maintaining trust, standing strong, and gaining freedom.

Finrod and Sauron by rami-fon-verg

There is something simple, almost childish, about this back-and-forth. I feel like I’ve seen several different children’s shows in which a good character and an evil character sing at each other instead of fighting, with the evil character extoling the virtues of power and the good character singing about the importance of love. (The one that comes to mind is Barbie and the Diamond Castle, in which the two heroines and the villain play good/evil music at each other, and the good music overpowers the evil music, resulting in the villain’s defeat.) I wouldn’t be surprised if several anime have a scene like this, as well. And yet, it is primordially powerful, like Gaiman’s “oldest game.” In Tolkien’s universe, singing was what created the world in the first place, and singing is therefore a direct and powerful means of manifestation.

By Wavesheep

Unfortunately, it does not end the way it would if this were a Barbie movie or an anime. Finrod is a great singer, but Sauron is better — he is a Maia, one of the Ainur, meaning he was there when the original Music of creation was sung. It’s impressive that Finrod manages to hold out as long as he does, but in the end — much like Fingolfin and Fëanor before him — he loses.

To tell this part of the story, Tolkien randomly switches to verse; he quotes a section from the Lay of Leithian. Medieval texts actually do this; lots of them will randomly switch between prose and verse. Texts that do this are called “prosimetric.” For example, in the Volsung Saga (which reads very much like The Silmarillion), when Sigurd meets Brynhild, the text abruptly switches into verse as she lists all the different types of runes and their uses. There’s several other instances in that text when it randomly switches between prose and verse. It prefaces the verse parts with something like, “So saith the song of Sigurd,” referencing poetic versions of the same story that otherwise don’t survive. Tolkien evokes that same structure here, right down to saying “as it is told in the Lay of Leithian.”

The Lord of the Rings is prosimetric, too, but most of the songs are diegetic, meaning they’re actually being sung by characters in-universe. That’s not what’s going on here. The verse part describes the singing contest between Sauron and Finrod, it’s not the actual songs that they’re singing. But it’s really clever of Tolkien to switch to verse to describe this scene, because it sets the vibe! It’s like you’re listening to a distant echo of their songs, passed down through generations of oral storytelling. It wouldn’t be nearly as evocative if he just described the scene flatly in prose.

Thank you for indulging me in that tangent! Moving on: Sauron throws Finrod and co. into a dark pit, and threatens to kill them if they don’t tell them who they are and why they’re there. Periodically, he sends a werewolf to eat one of them (which, I’ll bet you anything, is a direct reference to the Volsung Saga). Still, none of them talk.

Meanwhile, back in Doriath, Lúthien intuitively senses that something is wrong, and asks her mother what has happened to Beren. Melian tells her that Beren is in Sauron’s dungeon. Lúthien resolves to go and rescue him by herself. She goes to ask Daeron for his help, but Daeron refuses to risk his own neck for Beren’s sake. He’s been afflicted with full-on incel syndrome, so out of spite, he snitches to Thingol a second time. (Thingol is so grateful that Daeron keeps tabs on his daughter for him, that he names Daeron a prince. Make of that what you will.) Thingol can’t imagine anything worse than letting his daughter waste away in a dark pit, so he builds a house in a giant beech tree, called Hírilorn. Because the best way to keep your daughter safe from one prison is to put her in another! Logic!

Well, it’s a common trope in myths and fairy tales: The king is overprotective of his daughter and puts her in a tower, or a box with a hole in the roof, or some such. Lúthien, however, is proactive. She doesn’t wait for someone to rescue her from her treehouse. Instead, she tricks her guards and Daeron into sending her a golden bowl of wine, a silver bowl of water, a spinning wheel, and a loom. Then she sings a spell that mentions all the tallest and longest things in the world, which causes her hair to grow extremely long. She mixes the wine with the water, then sings a song of day over the golden bowl, and a song of night over the silver bowl. Finally, she sings a song of sleep. The singing enchants her hair, filling it with corresponding ideas that shape the way Lúthien wants it to behave. (Similar to Sauron and Finrod’s magic songs, singing about an idea causes it to manifest.) She weaves a robe out of her hair, a robe that’s described as being misty and shadowy, like it’s woven from clouds at night. Lúthien weaves a rope out of what’s leftover, and puts a sleeping spell on it. Then she just throws it down onto the guards at the foot of the tree, and they go to sleep, allowing her to climb down the rope and escape.

Lúthien prepares her escape from Hírilorn by Anke Katrin Eißmann

As she leaves Doriath, she comes upon Celegorm and Curufin, of all people. They’re out hunting, hoping to learn something about what happened to Finrod (and probably plotting behind his back the whole time). Among their hunting dogs is a particularly large wolfhound called Huan, who actually came with them from Valinor. Oromë himself, the Vala of the hunt, gave the dog to Celegorm long ago. Huan loyally followed Celegorm into exile, and therefore became automatically subject to the Curse. He’s foretold to die, but only after he faces the biggest and baddest of big bad wolves.

Spoiler alert, the dog’s gonna die!

Huan finds Lúthien, because he’s immune to her enchantments, and brings her to Celegorm. Once she learns that Celegorm and Curufin are enemies of Morgoth, Lúthien decides that she trusts them, and reveals herself to them. Celegorm (or, in the Lay, Curufin) instantly falls in love with her, because… of course he does. He offers to help Lúthien, making a point not to say that he already knows about the quest. Lúthien goes with them to Nargothrond.

Celegorm and Curufin find Lúthien by Elena Kukanova

As soon as they get there, Celegorm and Curufin show their true colors. They imprison Lúthien, take away her magic cloak, and forbid her to speak to anyone else but them. Lúthien escaped one trap, and fell right into another. Now that the brothers know from Lúthien that Finrod and Beren are in Sauron’s prison, they figure that it’s easiest to just let them die. Nargothrond is as good as theirs. And now that they have Lúthien, they have leverage over Thingol — they can force him to give Lúthien’s hand in marriage to Celegorm. That would make Celegorm and Curufin the most powerful princes of the Noldor! [Insert evil laugh here.]

Huan, however, is the Goodest Boy and is too pure-hearted to follow Celegorm (even though Celegorm is his beloved master whom he’s been serving for literally centuries). Huan also fell in love with Lúthien upon seeing her for the first time, but in a decidedly less creepy way. He comes to her prison every night to keep her company, and Lúthien tells him all about Beren.

Huan decides to help Lúthien break out. He brings her magic cloak to her, and speaks to her (he’s only allowed to talk three times before he dies). He shows her a secret passage out of Nargothrond, and they escape together. Huan even swallows his pride enough to allow Lúthien to ride on his back.

Lúthien riding on Huan by Meraclitus

I mean, if you’re gonna be a damsel in distress, a dog is a pretty awesome thing to be rescued by.

(Stopping there, because I'm running up against the max number of images. More to come!)

[argisthebulwark]

Remind Me I Am Your One & Only

summary: How I think various skryim men would react to feeling jealous. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Brynjolf, Cicero, Vilkas, Farkas, Miraak, Balimund, Erandur warnings: none

For Brynjolf, jealousy is unexpected. He’s secure in your relationship and your feelings for each other but isn't prepared to see you undercover. Watching you snag a pocket watch off some unsuspecting noble hardly distracts him from the flirtatious tone dripping from your lips. He can't exactly voice how he feels without blowing your cover. Instead, he decides two can play that game. Brynjolf knows you’re watching when his touch lingers just a tad too long on a Thane’s bejeweled necklace, smug satisfaction smothering the burning pit of jealousy in his stomach. “Don’t worry your pretty head, love. I don’t mind as long as I’m the only one you’re leavin’ with tonight.” 

Cicero’s jealousy is stealthy. Most wouldn’t notice the way his smile devolves to a sneer or the narrowing of his eyes. He holds back the barrage of threats dancing along the tip of his tongue, concealing the bloodlust simmering just under his skin. He trusts his Listener. He does not trust this stranger who dared to put an all too familiar hand on them.  “Silly, funny Listener. Cicero is your fool! Devoted Cicero, your loyal Keeper will take care of those who cross your boundary.” 

Vilkas will get frighteningly quiet. He’s tense, eyes darkening and brows tightening as he glares down at whoever dared to speak to you in such a way. His presence at your side is near constant, always your shadow. He assumed everyone in Whiterun knew the Harbinger owned his heart. Luckily, the intensity of his stare is enough to shoo off your pursuer.  “Of course I wasn’t glaring - why would you think such a thing? If I wanted to scare them off I would’ve drawn my sword. I’m not jealous, that’s childish.” 

Farkas isn’t one for jealousy. He knows you only have eyes for one another. Watching someone attempt to flirt with you is fairly entertaining, knowing that you must be biting your tongue in anticipation for the killing blow. He can’t be blamed if he flexes just a tad when you point him out or drops a few more terms of endearment into the following conversation.  “I thought everyone learned what a Band of Matrimony meant in our primary lessons. A shame, remind me to do something sickeningly romantic when we next visit the market.”

Miraak’s jealousy is deafening. Despite escaping Apocrypha and returning to a mortal body he’s maintained the stature of a god. Strategically placed, possessive hands and a voice rich with ancient power make no qualms with broadcasting his place as your beloved.  “Mere mortal, do you not realize who stands before you? You deign to speak to them in such a familiar tone? Tsk, if I were the Dragonborn you would not remain standing. Pity.” 

Balimind is not a man that is jealous often. He knows his feelings and yours, he is quite comfortable in your relationship. Even when you’re out on the road and he’s dutifully working away at his forge you remember to send letters. Whether you’re keeping him up to date on your latest conquest or expressing how lonely you are it’s reassuring. On the rare occasion he’s alone, dining in the tavern and some idle chatter about you reaches his ears, he’ll have no trouble reminding them whose arms you fall into upon returning.  “C’mon now, folks. I know they’re easy on the eyes but it’s my tub they’re wrecking with all those dragon guts. Best watch your words.” 

Erandur’s jealousy would be turned inward. He can only see the ways in which whoever shows interest in you compares to him - they’re younger, their pasts surely less sordid. It will surely take him some time and the occasional word of encouragement to feel confident in his place as your partner.  “I assure you, my love. All is well. No need to worry over me. I am simply astonished by you. As always.” 

[hum-tittle]

My first mass effect play through I romanced Thane and my second play through I romanced Garrus and honestly I cannot pick a favorite. They're both such beautiful stories that are so different.

With Thane, she gives him hope, and he gives her a sense of peace (he also got them titties out with that voice. And he's such a level-headed calm presence that I really Shepard needed). He deeply cares and expresses it. (Even if you don't romance him, he's the only squadmate that reaches out when Shepard is incarcerated). They both know it has a time limit, making the time together more precious. He checks in on her feelings and is very open with her, himself. Also, him calling her Siha is just so sweet. But it does end tragically, I understand why so many haven't romanced him because I don't think I've cried so much over a fictional characters death.

While with Garrus, he is her best friend (plus his awkward charm, humor, and voice). They have a deep respect and love for each other. But they know that the Suicide mission might be their last and want one night together. Then, in ME3, you see them truly fall in love, and Garrus puts in so much effort for Shepard. They're in the middle of a war, but he still got dance lessons to surprise her. Also, how he never says "I love you" until the end (or at least we never hear it) but refers to her as the love of his life and says he is in love with her through out, made that "I love you too" so much more impactful it showed how serious he was.

Anyways they're both such good stories and I truly couldn't pick who I'd see Shepard with more.

Next, play through, I'm going to romance Liara all three.