#new radiant storm king

[sinceileftyoublog]

Cassie Berman, Styrofoam Winos, & DAR Live Preview: 8/18, Sleeping Village, Chicago

Styrofoam Winos

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Sunday night at Sleeping Village will feature its fair share of Chicago, Nashville, and "Kentuckiana" pride.

First and foremost is none other than Cassie Berman, of Silver Jews fame and the ex-wife of the late, great David Berman. During her time with Silver Jews, Cassie contributed vocals and bass to the band's three Aughts LPs, Bright Flight (2001), Tanglewood Numbers (2005), and Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea (2008). Her relationship with Chicago and Drag City, though, goes back into the 90s via her collaborations with David Pajo, playing bass as part of his Aerial M and Papa M monikers. On Sunday, Berman will be playing some new solo material (!) along with a few Silver Jews songs, and she'll be accompanied by New Radiant Storm King vocalist Peyton Pinkerton, who himself played guitar on Silver Jews' 1996 sophomore record The Natural Bridge. Though Berman doesn't have much solo recorded material to her name, she did cover American Water opus "The Wild Kindness" with David's longtime labelmates Bill Callahan and Bonnie "Prince" Billy on their collaborative Blind Date Party album. Perhaps that'll be one of the Silver Jews cuts she performs on Sunday? Or maybe some that the former Silver Jews bandmates and Will Oldham played last Saturday?

The other two acts are both representatives of Jeffersonville, Indiana label Sophomore Lounge. You may have heard the Nashville-based Styrofoam Winos on MJ Lenderman's And the Wind (Live and Loose!) album released last year, joining him to cover Danny Dill and Marijohn Wilkin's country ballad "Long Black Veil" (originally recorded by Lefty Frizzell). The trio of Lou Turner, Trevor Nikrant, and Joe Kenkel so far has a few releases to their name, including an underrated self-titled record and a Michael Hurley covers album. In September, they'll drop their second album for Sophomore Lounge, entitled Real Time; so far, they've released the strutting, bluesy "Don't Mind Me". Live, as on record, the band switches off vocal and instrumental duties, maintaining their rollicking choogle punk the whole time.

Rounding it all out is Chicago-via-Louisville multi-instrumentalist Aaron Osbourne, who records as DAR. He's released two records on Sophomore Lounge, 2020's Where the Future Lives and March's A Slightly Larger Head. DAR's latest is a bedroom rock heartbreak record whose sound extends beyond the confines of its guitar, toy piano, drum machine, and digital brass soundscapes. More importantly, Osbourne does not wallow in a state of navel-gazing but rather finds unlikely hope stemming from the nadirs of life. Listeners should certainly be curious as to how he will adapt the album's varied sound to the live stage.

[beginningspod]

It's time for Beginnings, the podcast where writer and performer Andy Beckerman talks to the comedians, writers, filmmakers and musicians he admires about their earliest creative experiences and the numerous ways in which a creative life can unfold.

On today's episode, I talk to musician Peyton Pinkerton. Originally from Pleasantville, New York, Peyton formed New Radiant Storm King in 1990 while at Hampshire College. Over the next two decades, the band released nine albums on labels like Grass, Rainbow Quartz and Darla, and in 2010 played their final show. Peyton has also played and toured with Silver Jews, playing on perhaps their best album The Natural Bridge, as well as with the Pernice Brothers. As a solo artist, Peyton has released Rapid Cycler and a self-titled album on Darla, and his last album Ex Tomorrow was released in 2019, and folks, it's a delight!

I'm on Twitter here and you can get the show with:

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[onlycosmere]

The Kickstarter goes live tomorrow!

When Brandon Sanderson began working with Brotherwise Games on the first adventure for The Stormlight Roleplaying Game, he considered how it could help him fix holes in the narrative of his bestselling fantasy series. He settled on a mystery from the first Stormlight Archive book, The Way of Kings, that will have big implications for the fifth book in the series, Wind and Truth, which will be released in December.

The Stormlight Archive is set on the planet Roshar, where 10 heroes known as Heralds spent millenia protecting humanity with the help of highly magical swords dubbed Honorblades. All of them abandoned their duties except Taln, the Herald of the Common Man. Despite Taln’s best efforts, the forces of the vengeful god Odium have returned. Taln was left maddened by his ordeal and soon after he first appears in the books, his Honorblade goes missing. Its whereabouts remain unknown.

“The adventure is answering that question,” Sanderson told Polygon. “What happened? Where did it go? What’s going on? And you get to be part of the story. We were looking for an adventure you could do that would intersect with the canon of the books in an interesting way, and allow you to fill in a hole yourself.”

The Kickstarter for the d20-based game goes live on Aug. 6 along with a beta preview of the rules and a first level adventure meant to walk players and game masters through the setting and core mechanics. The hardcover Stonewalkers Adventure, where players encounter Taln and learn what happened to his honorblade, will be released in 2025 along with the Stormlight Roleplaying Game Handbook and World Guide.

...

Players will hunt for Taln’s honorblade across Roshar, from the Shattered Plains where much of The Way of Kings is set, to the magical forest of the goddess Cultivation, where bold souls can receive both a boon and a curse. There are a mix of dungeon crawls, puzzles, chase scenes and prison breaks. As they choose how to approach the problems they face, player characters will be able to attract the attention of spren, spirit-like beings who can bond with like-minded people to bestow them with incredible abilities. Completing the mission can allow them to join the newly re-founded ancient order known as the Knights Radiant.

...

The PCs can meet major antagonists from the books, including the twisted Herald of Justice Nale and the traitorous General Meridas Amaram, and learn how the talking sword Nightblood first featured in Sanderson’s 2009 book Warbreaker wound up on Roshar. As they move through key moments from the series, like the emergence of a raging storm that brings Odium’s most powerful lieutenants back to the world, Sanderson welcomes players to reshape his narrative.

...

“There’s a lot of cultural details being filled in, but at the same time, we dig a little bit further into what each order of Radiants’ oaths, spren, and motivations are,” Sanderson said. “There’s some new stuff there that I think fans will really enjoy.”

[luvvictoria]

Can you do sukuna seeing reader being happy with someone else🙏

Echoes of Desires

+ pairings. sukuna x gn!reader

+ tags. romance, jealousy, true form Sukuna

The moon hung high in the night sky, casting a silvery glow over the courtyard. Lanterns flickered gently, illuminating the laughter and joy of the gathering that spilled out from the main hall. Sukuna leaned against a wooden pillar, his two faces hidden in shadow, watching as you mingled with the guests, your presence a radiant beacon amidst the revelry.

You were dressed in a beautifully ornate kimono, colors vibrant against the soft light, your laughter ringing like chimes in the cool evening air. Beside you stood a man, his charm evident as he engaged you in conversation, his smile making your eyes sparkle in a way that tugged at something deep within Sukuna.

He clenched his jaw, a surge of irritation bubbling beneath his stoic facade. The sight of you being so freely happy with someone else stirred a possessive flame within him, a feeling he had long thought buried under layers of indifference.

As the festivities continued, Sukuna’s frustration grew. He had watched you from afar, the way you leaned in to share a secret with the man, the way your hand brushed against his arm—each gesture igniting a primal urge within him. The thought that you could be happy without him gnawed at his insides.

“ Why do you waste your time with him ? “ Sukuna murmured to himself, a shadowy figure lurking in the corners of the celebration.

Finally, unable to contain himself any longer, he stepped into the light, his presence drawing the attention of the nearby guests. You turned at the sound of his approach, surprise flickering across your features.

“ Sukuna,” you said, your voice a mix of joy and concern. “What are you doing here?”

“Observing,” he replied coolly, though the tension in his voice betrayed the tempest within. “ It seems you’ve found new entertainment. ” Your smile faltered slightly. “ It’s just a celebration. Everyone is having fun. ”

“ Fun? ” he echoed, a sharp edge to his tone. “ Is that what you call it? Spending time with a man who doesn’t know your worth ? “ You stepped closer, sensing the darkness that clung to him. “ He’s a friend, Sukuna. You know that.”

“ Friends do not make you glow with delight as you do with him, ” he snapped, unable to keep the jealousy from his voice. “ What does he offer you that I do not? “

The question hung heavily in the air, your heart racing at the challenge behind it. “ He doesn’t offer me anything more than companionship, Sukuna. But you—”

“Exactly!” Sukuna interjected, his voice a low growl. “ I am the King of Curses, not some common man to be tossed aside. Yet here I am, watching you be happy with someone else. “

You took a deep breath, grounding yourself against the storm brewing in his eyes. “ You need to understand that happiness isn’t just about being with someone powerful or dangerous. It’s about feeling safe, cherished. You can’t just assume I’ll choose you because of who you are. “

He stared at you, his two faces reflecting a mix of emotions—frustration, longing, and a flicker of vulnerability. “So you prefer him?”

“I don’t prefer anyone,” you said softly, stepping closer. “But you push me away with your darkness, Sukuna. You’ve built walls around yourself, and it’s hard to reach you.”

His expression softened at your words, the weight of truth settling in. He was silent for some moments before he spoke in a quiet tone “ I don’t want to lose you,” he confessed, the fierceness in his gaze faltering.

You placed a hand on his arm, grounding him. “Then don’t. Show me that you can be more than the King of Curses. Show me that you can let me in.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, a flash of determination igniting within them. “I will not let anyone take you from me,” he declared, his voice low and filled with intent. “If he makes you happy, then I will make you happier.”

You smiled, warmth flooding through you. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Just be yourself. Let me see the man beneath the curse.”

The night felt alive as you stood before him, the air thick with unspoken promises. Sukuna leaned in, his breath ghosting over your skin, and in that moment, everything around you faded away. The laughter and chatter of the festival became distant, replaced by the intensity of his gaze.

“You are the light I didn’t know I needed,” he murmured, inching closer. “Let me show you how a king can love.”

As his lips brushed against yours, a spark ignited—a connection that transcended the darkness surrounding him. You could feel his walls crumbling, the fierce determination to change enveloping you both.

When the kiss broke, Sukuna looked into your eyes, the weight of the world seeming to lift. “I won’t let you go, not to anyone else,” he vowed.

And with that promise, you stepped away from the shadows of uncertainty, embracing the light of your bond, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead together.

In the Heian night, amidst the celebration and laughter, two souls found their way back to each other, forging a connection that would defy the darkness, a love that could conquer all.

[luchibelle-throughthecosmere]

W&T

REVIEW WITH SPOILERS

Kal.- Such a beatiful journey for my boy. Ever since leaving his hometown he unwittingly became a legend. Only a few actually got to see the mortal (Kaladin) behind that inmortal mask of determination (Stormblessed). His journey resounds in so many of us because beyond his inhuman abbilities he is a human just like us. The ultimate protector. The last remnant of Honor. Kaladin. Herald. Herald of Kings. Herald of the Wind. Herald of Second Chances.

Shallan.- Always wanted her to be a worldhopper but couldn't really see how that might happen once she married Adolin. Now she is trapped in Shadesmar among other worldhoppers. Yay. Also, she got on well with Thaidakar (whose motivations and needs don't disturbe Shallan's unlike Mraize and Iyatil's did). And- CHARANACH IS HER MOM.

Taln did NOT break. Ever. It was Shallan who triggered it all (poor thing has no fault really). Love the fact that Taln never broke, it always felt wrong. Reminds me of Dabbid a little -although his lack of words is trully caused by trauma not pretended-. Gotta make him tells us why he tried to kill Cultivation.

Jasnah.- Never liked her morality. It always felt wrong. Never liked her character because of it. That night at Karbranth, the assassins she hired, considering the extermination of the singers, stabbing a highprince... And then Brandon used the reverse card and actually confronted her about her actions and intentions. That is exactly what she needed. She will grow so much in the coming books! We still don't know why exactly she was confined as a kid but she kind of hinted that her mother was not okay with it, rescued her as soon as she got back from her travels. Hopefully, she will be the one to take Navani out of her self-induced coma.

Lift will finally let herself grow up and Vasher will help her about it! Will Cultivation's absence affect her powers? Since she never used Stormlight (or Towerlight) creating Lifelight out of food instead, will anything change for her now that Cultivation flee? Maybe Lift's presence lures her back to Roshar someday.

Sezth.- Never liked the idea of him becoming an Herald, even if it thematically worked since he won Jezrien's Shardblade. Glad how it turned out, he deserves a quiet life with the sheeps. Also, him being a Skybreaker finally clicked for me, it was about gainning agency and deciding for yourself. And we got to learn Aux's backstory as well!

Adolin not becoming a surgebinder was perfect. After how disappointing Wayne holding up a gun was, it was refreshing how Adolin stood by his decision not to become a Radiant. Really beautiful to see how despite the unoathed not being broken they can form an attachment to the spren. Now he is learning how to read which is fulfilling in itself, just like he was okay with women holding weapons he needs to be okay with men reading. Times are changing and they have to change as well, otherwise they will be left behind. Change can be good, both Lift and Adolin got to learn that finally.

Dalinar.- He understood Honor but didn't fit in. There was always something about him becoming the vessel of Honor that didn't work out for me. Now we have another vessel having trouble with the two Shards and their conflicting interests. Wished we could have seen a little bit more of what it meant to be the Stormfather's Bondsmith, now we will never get a chance unless we get new flashbacks. Syl, as the Ancient Daughter, is currently the oldest honorspren we have. Will she eventually take his place? The storm in her eyes... Also, really liked how Dalinar didn't have to fight Gav and found the answers where he always did, in Nohadon's pressence.

Rlain and Renarin paralleling Windrunner Garith and the Regal femalen singer was genius. Proof that both races can coexist and any conflict between them is each individual's fault, not the race they belong to. Both of them grow up a lot in this book and grow away from what their people want them to be, they become who THEY want to be. Agency. Individuality. Self-worth.

[cosmerelists]

If the Stormlight Archive Novels Were Rewritten From a New Perspective...

I'm thinking here of, like, a Secret History type thing where the same events that are detailed in the regular SA novels are rewritten from the perspective of a character who didn't previously narrate them. Like a fun little set of novellas that Sanderson could probably write on his coffee break or something...

[Warning: Big Stormlight Archive spoilers throughout!!]

1. Way of Kings...as told by Sadeas

I don't think we really got any POV from Sadeas in Way of Kings, since that would have spoiled the whole "planning-to-betray-Dalinar" thing. So I think it would be pretty nifty to see those events from a Sadeas' POV. We'd get to see what kind of info was filtering up about Kaladin and Bridge 4--like, what DID Sadeas think when he heard that the random bridgeman tied up in the storm survived? What was the scene like after Kaladin's side carry ruined that battle and Sadeas decided to execute the lighteyes in charge?

And what was Sadeas' inner monologue like during his every interaction with Dalinar? I want to see Sadeas and Ialai plotting before every feast, and then hear Sadeas inwardly rolling his eyes while pretending that he's just working for the good of the kingdom, totally not undermining Dalinar, nope nope.

And I'd love to see Sadeas' thoughts during the scenes post-betrayal with, like, Navani coming into Sadeas' camp to set fire to the giant Justice glyph and Dalinar showing up to trade his shardeblade for the bridgemen. Give me the Sadeas/Ialai scene that evening plz.

2. Words of Radiance...as told by Renarin

Here again, we have a book where a POV must be omitted in order not to spoil the ending: in this case, the late-book reveal that Renarin is a Knight Radiant as well. And I'm sure I'm not alone in wanting to know what that whole book was like for Renarin!

How and when did Renarin meet Glys? What was the bonding like? How hard was it for Renarin to put on his armor & grab the screaming shardblade to join the 4 v. 1 duel to save his brother? Give me the angst of Renarin being convinced there there is something wrong with him, that he literally cannot fight the way he wants to even while he becomes a Radiant.

And um, what about scrawling the words on the walls during his dad's visions? I still want to know just how Renarin pulled that off without being noticed and also what the hell was he thinking?? I'd like to see him grapple with the angst of being a prophet in a world where that's sacrilegious, yet trying to pass the message anyway.

And just as a tiny note, does anybody else remember when Dalinar, Kaladin, and Shallan are having their We Are The Knights Radiant meeting at the top of Urithiru and then Renarin just like appears out of the shadows to be like "me too?" I kinda want to again know what he was thinking, lurking behind them literally all the way to the top before revealing himself at the most dramatic moment.

Anyway. I bet we'll get some of this in the Renarin book in the back half of Stormlight -- or at least, I hope so!

3. Oathbringer...as told by Jasnah

I bet you all are seeing the pattern here, ha ha! I think Jasnah's POV is restricted in Oathbringer because (a) she's supposed to be dead and (b) she knows about the humans being the actual Voidbringers and that can't be revealed immediately. But in a retelling, I'd love to see her tell-all.

What was that journey to Urithiru like with Wit? If we could get some flashbacks to her time in Shadesmar, that would be great, even though that's technically WOR again.

What was her inner monologue interacting with Shallan again? We know how it was for Shallan (suuuper awkward), but what did Jasnah think? What was it like to get to see Urithiru after she'd spent so much time researching it?

And it would be super interesting to get more of the relationship between Jasnah and her cousin Renarin. Like, when did Jasnah figure out that Renarin's spren was corrupted? When did she decide to kill him?

I think any and all extra Jasnah POVs from this period would be fascinating.

4. Rhythm of War...as told by Rlain

I was torn as to whether to have Rlain for Oathbringer or for Rhythm of War, but ultimately went with the latter. To be fair, we do get Rlain POV sections in ROW, but I want MORE.

If I remember correctly (it's been a minute since I last read ROW), we get a lot of Rlain's narrative from other characters' POV: like Kaladin or Venli interacting with Rlain and hearing about what he's been up to. Like "Oh yeah I've been spying and I found these maps" or "Oh yeah I've been working here with your family for a few days" and I want all of that to be told in long-form narrative please. ESPECIALLY Rlain hanging out with Kaladin's parents and little brother. I can't even remember anymore if him and Hesina being best friends is canon or fanon but I'd like to see it, plz.

I want to see more of Rlain being a spy, his angst about being in between Listeners and Humans, and his double agent heroism. I'd like to see more of his thoughts about Venli, maybe some flashbacks to his interactions among the Listeners back in the day.

And while I don't know if Renarin and Rlain interact at all really in ROW, I'll take any and all of Rlain's thoughts on Renarin and any scrap of interaction that could be woven in.

5. Bonus: Any Book...as told by Hesina

Honestly, I think a Hesina retelling of any of the 4 books would be awesome.

Way of Kings? We're gonna see the family interactions and the Roshone conflict from Hesina's perspective, not to mention the probably horrible aftermath of both of her sons being sent to war and then dying.

Words of Radiance? Uh...honestly I don't know what Hesina was up to during the events of that book but she had baby Oroden and I bet she was doing other stuff too.

Oathbringer? We get to see Kaladin's return from Hesina's perspective--Lirin was grumpy about him being a "killer" now, but I seem to recall that Hesina had awespren around her.

Rhythm of War? Let's see the move to Urithiru, settling in, her teasing Lirin about him worrying that surgeons won't be needed anymore... Plus, PLEASE give me Hesina's perspective on Kaladin's actions, on the invasion, on her very real and deep friendship with Rlain!

Yeah!

[cherllyio]

The Warrior of Flower Fruit Mountain

This is Macaques design from my Moana AU.

He is currently an enomurs and terryfing Shadow Monster, but he was once Sun Wukongs old "friend", and travel buddy on their many voyages together in the past.

Why is he like this? Well i made little angsty backstory, with clues to what happend to the once great Warrior.

You can read it either here, or on A03 where i also posted it (here)

The Voyager, The Sun and The Monster

Chapter 1 (Prolouge): Drowned by your Love

There is a small island, somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, where both terrifying demons and small monkeys live together. One of these creatures inhabiting the Island, while just as much monkey and demon as the rest, stand outs quite a lot.

He has beautiful silk white hair, six magical ears, that can catch the wind flap of a bird thousands of miles away, and a pair of radiant golden eyes, that will pierce through anyone who dares come near.

His name? Liu Mihou. Also rightfully known as “The Warrior of Flower Fruit Mountain”

On normal circumstances The Warrior would be either be training, gathering food supplies for him and the other monkeys, or making his presence known, to any hostile idiot, dumb enough to try and challenge him. 

But not today. Today, you can find The Warrior in the early morning light, preparing for voyage he is not sure when, or if he will ever come back from.

Yet... The Silk Monkey knows it will be worth it. For the person he is looking for is worth everything, and more, that can be worth something in this world.

 “The King of Flower Fruit Mountain!”, “The great sage equal to heaven!”, “The Monkey King!”. Or, as Mihou knew him: “My Sun”.

Just a few hundred years ago, these two celestial monkeys were sailing through all the great oceans together. Battling through storms, strong enough to destroy entire islands, becoming more powerful than the other demons could ever hope to become, and at the same time forming a bond strong enough, to become something greater than friendship.

Except…that all changed when Sun Wukong started playing against a power, he was not prepared for. The power of the Jade Emperor.

This traitorous act against the emperor, would ultimately end in the great sage’s downfall, where he would be catched and imprisoned by the Buddha himself, and pinned down by his very hand. And now, he was now trapped under “Five Element Mountains”, until an unknown destiny would free him.

Nobody, not even the wisest of the immortals, knew when that day would come.

It’s been 500 years since the great sage’s new destiny, fell upon him. Yet now... he has disappeared.

Mihou didn’t know how or where, or if it was done by fair means or foul. He solely knew that the once immense mountain, that had once sealed away his sun, was now only rubles and ashes of its former greatness.

Initially Mihou had been exited, ecstatic even, about this news. However, he quickly realized that like mountain, the King too was gone.

No messages, no clues, no anything. He was truly… gone... But he wasn’t "gone, gone" that would be crazy! "Sun Wukong, The Great sage equal to heaven" could never, would never.... Yea... His sun is fine, he will surely find him!

Plus, Mihou got all the things he needs to find The King, his magic ears being a big part of it. And then… they can be together again, and everything will be balanced, just like before! After all, how can a moon shine without its sun?

He confidently looks down at his own reflection, his silk white hair and shining ears animated in the cold and radiant water below. Everything is going to be ok.

But then he notices the dark roots crawling up his hair.

Dark roots that are slithering its way inside his silk white hair, like an infection, and turning it as dark as a burned corpse.

And nearly, one thirds of his entire mane can’t reflect any of the suns glow back anymore. And it will never be able to do it again.

For a second, it catches The Warrior off guard, but he really shouldn’t haven’t been surprised by this.

These dark roots have slowly been taking up more and more of his silk white hair, for well… Mihou keeps failing to remember that, but it was before his sun disappeared, he knows that much.

Mihou closes his eyes, trying to push the thoughts back. But instead, an old memory creeps up, and fills his soul with dread.

...

A demon. It attacked them.

They were young, stupid and furthermore in love, and together, they thought nothing could stop. Neither in celestial realm nor on earth.

Sure, Mihou was barely half the power of his counterpart, but that didn’t matter. It never really had mattered. The only thing Mihou and Wukong had ever cared about was each other.

Except, this time, it DID matter. Because… Wukong got hurt. Badly hurt.

There had been so much blood… Macaque could barely look at him… and Mihou had started panicking… while a piercing cry had cut through the air, when his Sun was impaled… The world turned around… everything had become so awfully quiet.

And Mihou had just been STANDING THERE. He had done nothing, but tremoring in horror over the cursed remains that was his dying sun. And then that awful, awful demon that had HURT HIS SUN, started whispering terrible, terrible words in his all too powerful ears…

“Oh, how sad” … “did he mean much too you?” … “What a pity…” … “you should have protected him better then…”

And… He listened. For wasn’t it true?

Wasn’t he the one who now stood beside his fading sun, that could barely light any brighter than the flickers of an ending campfire? Wasn’t he the one who had just been standing by his side, while his sun had worked so hard for everyone. Worked so hard and continued getting stronger. To get strong enough to protect his people. To protect Mihou. And he is now dying for the sake of a six eared demon, that would never be able to pay him back. Mihou hadn’t earned any of that. Wukong hadn’t deserved that. Mihou was a traitor.

The demon didn’t even notice, before it was too late. The demon didn’t even notice, before his insides lay before him, and he lied next to it. The demon didn’t even seem to notice Mihou’s scream of agony and pain, before his soul had already left his body.

Everything after that was a blur.

A blur filled with small glimpses of his dying sun, while an unworthy Warrior had desperately tried to save him.

And when the world finally came back into the view, his sun… His sun was ok. His sun was ok. His sun was ok.

“Sorry I scared you so badly there, my dear moon”, Wukong had said with a sad look on his face. “I must admit, he wasn’t as strong as me, but he sure was clever.” His sun had said with a grin on his face.

And oh… How Mihou could have looked at that smile forever. Yet… he was constantly reminded of what had happened.

If that demon… If that god forsaken demon had been any stronger, just a bit, Wukong…

Mihou couldn’t risk that… Never again would he look at his dying sun, covered in his own torn open flesh and shattered bones. Never again would he hear, Wukong’s breath draw close to its final limit. Never again would The Great Sage be betrayed by his own Warrior, who he thought he could trust to always protect him.

For in The Warriors own eyes, he was a traitor. A foul soul who would simply overserve as a prejudiced destiny would drown out the only spark of hope left for their island and its people.

Hence why Mihou did, what he did next.

On the darkest day of the year, where the shadows rosed higher, than their own creators, Mihou stood in the middle of an abandoned Island. He was hoping for someone who could help. And soon enough, someone rose up. The silhouette of the darkness. A spirit. One made of magic not seen quite often.

“The six eared Macaque asks for my help. Don’t you have enough assistance from the king already?” the spirit remarked in a gravelly, judging, voice, whilst turning itself into a clone of The Great Sage to prove its point.

“Yes, please, I need your wisdom…”

“My wisdom… Well, there sure is a considerably amount of that, you will have to be more specific…”

Even though he knew exactly, what he had been come for, it still took Mihou a few seconds, before he finally answered:

“How do I protect someone, who is stronger than me? How do I make sure, I can help someone, when I barely have the strength of the wind, against a storm coming their way?”

Mihou could feel small tears starting to pierce through his eyes, yet he did little to stop them. “How do I make sure, I don’t betray the people I love, when they need me the most?”

The silence after that was barely enough time for the water to hit shore in its never-ending rhythm. Despite that, it had felt like millions of winters and summers had already passed, by the time the silhouette finally spoke again.

“There is one way….”

Mihou looked up.

“However, as all things, it comes with great consequences.”

“I will do anything, please! Just tell me what I need to do!”

The silhouette seemed to watch him like a hawk.

“You are more stupid than you look, Warrior of Flower Fruit Mountain.”

The shadow started morphing into something else.

“Liu’er Mihou, for my power you need to know. This power requires the utmost control. One step aside could lead you drowning in its pit, leaving you only as host to submit.”

The shadows showed The Warrior consumed by shadows, until there is no light left in him.

Mihou took a deep breath.

“How can I control it then?”

“Warrior, only destiny will be your reaper.”

It morphs back into its normal silhouette.

“Now… do you accept this power?”

Mihou, looking back, should probably have thought it more through. But back then, the guilt and love for his Sun had been so strong, it had almost blinded him.

“I do, I accept it.”

And then everything went black.

...

Hundreds of years later, Mihou still doesn’t know, how or when he ended back on Flower Fruit Mountain.

But that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered then, was the power he had now. The power to protect the island, its monkeys and… his sun.

Wukong was skeptical at first, luckily the King had always been more of the oblivious type, so he quickly started to pride the new power as much as Lihou used too.

The newfound power Liu’er Mihou had gained were shadow powers. He could manipulate, create or absorb any shadow as he pleased.

This power also made it easier for him to learn the “72 transformations”, which Wukong had already learned hundreds of years ago, since Mihou could “copy” them using his shadow powers, until he didn’t need Wukong by his side anymore to do it.

Though, as all things, it wouldn’t last long until he learned the consequences of his choices firsthand.

Wukong and Mihou had been fighting a demon, who was stronger than what they were used to, but they had been fighting a lot of them recently, anyway. However, for just a second, Macaque had become cocky, and his let the shadow powers run free to devour their enemy whole.

Expect, after the fight was over, Macaque noticed the dark hair for the first time.

It had been small at first, barely noticeable, but with every “slip up” it had gotten more and more noticeable.

It wasn’t just if he got cocky in battle. If something had hurt him mentally, it would also grow. Which, when Wukong got trapped under the mountain… The infection had grown to the length of two small snakes crawling up his legs and arms in just a few hours.

Moreover, when they got into a fight while Wukong was trapped… The fur on his legs was almost completely black.

So, the 500 years that had slowly been passing by had been both a physically and mental war in his head, that from each day that had went by got closer and closer to winning…

The lack of a king also meant that more demons had started to attack Flower Fruit Mountain, therefore Macaque had to use way more power than usual, which would just make the curse worse...

And then every night, if it was a quiet one, he would cry himself to sleep, in his now empty nest.

Yet, as the black fur was getting dangerously close to his heart, which Mihou did not want to find out what happened if it reached it, there was… hope.

Wukong was free now after all!

Mihou was so sure, that as soon as they found each other again. When he could finally embrace that golden fur again, everything would be fine.

And as Mihou looked down the boat, now ready for the long voyage ahead, he felt A hope rise in his chest, for the first time in these 500 years.

Everything will be ok; nothing bad ever happen anymore.

Wukong is waiting for him after him after all!

…

Right?

[scienter]

WIND AND TRUTH CHAPTER 31

Epigraph: “So think, my dear reader. As a soldier retreats from a battle he cannot win. As a woman rejects a home that shows her only violence. As a family finds hope in walking away from dying fields during a season of too much rain.” – From The Way of Kings, Fourth parable

🤔 So, the implication is that Nohadon and/or Tanavast walked away from power?

Both he and Breteh were former bridgemen from Bridge Thirteen, the group that had become Teft’s squires. She thought that was why they wore red glyphwards on their arms—something about a pact relating to Moash and vengeance.

A lot of people are lining up to kill Moash. FAFO

“Well, that’s a storming big secret,” Rlain said to a very pronounced rhythm, which Radiant couldn’t place. Renarin just met her eyes, then nodded. Damnation. He understood. She now felt infinitely more guilty for finding him weird when they first met.

Glad to see Shallan finally acknowledge this. I kept cringing during my re-read whenever Shallan was impatient with Renarin or thought he was weird.

“And yet,” Rlain said, “every single member of Bridge Four now has an honorspren—except me. Curious, how people’s decisions are an individual matter when they’re confronted about them—but those decisions form blatant patterns.” They did, many of them vanishing and the others moving to the very top of the corridor. Gav relaxed. The spren that had tormented him in the Kholinar palace had been of a completely different variety, but that didn’t matter in the face of trauma.

Gav dealing with his trauma must be a subplot in the back half of Stormlight considering how much attention Brandon is giving it in this book.

“All things are,” she said. “Whether it’s the cup you drink from, the home you live in, or the air you breathe. All of it is part of this world given us by the Almighty, and everything in this world is alive. It is one of the ways we know God loves us.” And surely He did. Even if the person who had held the power was dead, that was merely an avatar, a Vessel—not God. It was that Vessel Dalinar hoped to replace. If he did, would he then return to conventional belief as she hoped? His new ways, new teachings, weren’t strictly blasphemous, but things about them did make her uncomfortable.

Huh. Though it makes sense, I never considered that Dalinar’s heretical beliefs would bother Navani. She still burns prayers in case someone is listening although she knows Honor is dead. Still, she hopes that Dalinar will regain faith in God.

Dalinar’s plan to Ascend to Honor must be surreal to her.

“Rock from Ashyn,” Wit said lightly. “Like those carried by your ancestors to this world during their migration. They were fragments of a holy site on your homeworld, but stones themselves took on a kind of mystical lore by association. Some seven thousand years later, everyone in Shinovar worships rocks, and has no idea why.”

Oh, that’s why the Shin consider stone holy. It’s a holdover from Ashyn. That makes sense. I wondered if the stone on Roshar was sentient like The Wind and that’s why they worshipped it or if it was an ancient religious myth.

Okay since we got the stone settled; can we get some answers about The Wind?

“You were there?” Again Wit shrugged. “Look, I can’t be expected to tell you everything that has happened in the last ten thousand years, all right? Yes, I was there. Can we focus on the experiment?”

Think about all the important shit Hoid knows about from first-hand experience but hasn’t bothered telling anyone. He’s such a little shit sometimes. lol

Although in his defense he probably doesn’t know which important events are worth disclosing.

“Specifically,” Wit said, “you will eventually need to be able to find the history I missed in order to determine what led to Honor’s demise, and see if you can find why the power refuses Vessels now."

Wait, what? The Stormfather said Dalinar couldn't take up the power, but I didn't interpret that as Honor will refuse ALL vessels. 🤨

So why does Hoid think the shard is refusing all potential vessels? 🤔

 “I warned you of the danger. There are few paths in this universe I fear to walk. This is one of them.”

Ominous words.

There was so much to be studied about the symbiosis between spren and human. Someday when all this was done, that would be her project. Jasnah thought her a whimsical artist, and that was part of her. But so was the scientist. She dreamed of creating a grand illustrated tome explaining the intricate details of the bond. Shallan’s ultimate triumph in proving that art and science were actually one.

This is an aspect of Shallan’s character I want to explore more. She’s a naturalist. I feel like that’s been pushed aside for the spy plots. I’d like to get back to the scholarly roots of her character.

…and he kept going, despite knowing he was trapped in a Shallan flood. Because if he turned back, then Rlain probably would too, which would mean leaving Shallan completely without access to common sense.

😂 Renarin, I love you.

Otherwise, the room was empty… Wait. What were those two souls over at the side, in the walls?

. . . Lift?

“Good,” Rlain said. “That gives us something to prepare for.” He knelt beside the wall. “These two souls… they seem to be hiding in an air duct. And what is that green spot…” “Mmm…” Pattern said. “Cultivationspren. That is Lift.”

Called it. 😊

CHAPTER 32

Epigraph: “As a king leaves a people with the gift of his absence, so that they may grow and solve their own problems, without his hand to always guide them.” – From The Way of Kings, fourth parable

That's Cultivation and Sazed's philosophy of Godhood, which is diametrically opposed to Taravangian's philosphy.

Seriously, though – are Nohadon and Tanavast the same person? Is that theory correct?

“Mraize,” Shallan said, suddenly filled with dread. “Mraize, what are you doing?” “Have you ever seen a perpendicularity collapse on itself, little knife?” he asked. “Mraize…” “I haven’t either,” he said. “But it’s reportedly spectacular.” He threw the dagger.

Oh, no. 😬

Images began to form around him from swirling light. Visions of places, people—ephemeral, winking away in seconds. The tones thrummed through him. It was working. He looked at Navani, grinning. Then, behind them, something snapped. Their Connection to the Physical Realm vanished, and something came rushing toward them: power, wind, and screams.

Oh, shit.

[cosmereplay]

#11 with rlainarin?

(For the kiss ask game)

I will write a kiss… 11. …in joy.

Renarin/Rlain, rated Teen, 500 words, big RoW spoilers

Renarin watched rapturously as Rlain shared his story, right there on the Oathgate platform.  The kings, generals, and their retinues had already passed through, returning from Emul. Father was more than ready to be home again, to get proof that Navani was alright, and sort through what belongings they had left. For now, the Oathgate platform was empty. Everyone was exhausted and wanted a bed as soon as possible. Somehow, after seeing Rlain waiting for him, Renarin felt wide awake. He knew most of the story already from Aunt Navani's reports, but hearing it from Rlain made it so much more real. Not to mention the details that couldn’t be included in the reports.  “What kind of Radiant are you?” Renarin interrupted abruptly. He needed to know immediately. He hoped... Rlain smiled. “I’m getting to it,” he said. “Don’t rush me.” He seemed to delight in the way Renarin’s impatience was eating through his whole body, causing him to squirm. He rotated, flipped, and held his box, tracing the intricate lines, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to BE the box and have a giant thumb press him into paste, but that wasn’t going to happen, so he focused on the story.  “Aunt Navani tried to get you to bond the Sibling?” he asked in amazement. “Just because you weren't human? But that goes against everything you’ve been trying to do!” “THANK YOU!” Rlain exclaimed. “It wasn’t going to work. I’m glad I didn’t even get close, because right at the end, just as I thought all was lost, I…” “Yes?” Renarin was ready to explode with curiosity. He grabbed Rlain's shoulder. "You what! Storm it man, tell me!" Rlain grinned. “I saw a vision in stained glass of Kaladin saving us, and I bonded Tumi.” He held out his hand expectantly, but nothing appeared. “Oh, I guess he’s a little shy right now, but–” “Is he an enlightened spren? The kind from…” he lowered his voice, though there was no one on the platform anymore, “...Sja-anat?” Storms, he had to put his cube away so he could flap his hands. Rlarin leaned in. “Yes, Renarin. He’s an enlightened mistspren, just like Glys. We’re–” It was too much. The energy inside him burst, and Renarin jumped with joy, wrapping his arms around Rlain’s neck and swinging, pulling him off his feet into a kind of improvised dance. Joyspren broke into existence, swirling around them like leaves on a wind, and Renarin knew he’d never been happier. He wasn’t alone anymore. “We’re the same,” Rlain confirmed, and hummed joyfully to match Renarin’s laughter.   “Rlain, um.” Renarin giggled. He barely recognized himself like this. He squeezed Rlain in a gigantic, firm hug, then pulled back to grin at him more. “This is the best news I’ve ever gotten. You wanted to join me? I could kiss you.” Rlain’s eyes opened wide, and Renarin looked away in embarrassment, trying to let him go, but Rlain held him by his upper arms. “I'm just surprised. I never thought anyone would ever want to kiss me,” Rlain said. "I’d like to try that. A kiss. Especially…Storms. Especially if it’s you,” Rlain said, and added a small smile. Excitement flooded his body like lightning in a storm. Renarin lunged again, and as he kissed Rlain, spinning in their very own dance, he thought maybe the joyspren could be seen from even the very top of the Tower.

[sweetestpieces]

Pairing: Giantess!Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader

Tags/Warnings: Giantess, Size Difference, brewing romance, fluff(?), idk, first time writing fic

Length: 1.3k

Summary: King Viserys wants a suitor for his daughter Rhaenyra soon. The princess is not so keen on the idea and would rather spend time alone with you. (Part 1? of ???)

Storm’s End was about what you’d imagined it would be. A huge bleak castle that eternally resists the rage of the waters beneath it. You knew King Viserys was adamant about finding his daughter Rhaenyra a suitor soon. But for the life of you, you could not understand why he would look here. The men all looked the same, tall and dark-haired and well-built. They spoke with flowery language as if each of them were singers as well as soldiers. All of them except for two. The Dondarrion lord was the oldest of the group, a man well past his prime with his greying beard and balding head. The other was a young man from the Riverlands, a Blackwood, short and looking like he could barely hold the sword he wore on his hip.

You couldn’t stand the thought of any of them being with the princess. The very thought made you strangely angry. Your rampant imagination was quickly put to rest each time a new man stepped forward. The princess casually glanced in your direction with a sly smile that only you knew. Her eyes would just as quickly return to the next man in line and hear their story, their pitch for marriage.

The princess in her flowing red dress made the Baratheon dais look comically small. The stone chair was clearly not made for someone of her stature. Even sitting she towered over Ser Criston who stood tall beside the dais. The sight of her squeezed into that chair recalled your first memory of meeting the princess. 

Just shy of two years ago you were brought in along with a handful of other young women as potential handmaids to the royal house. The princess sat at a table breaking her fast with her father the first time you saw her. You’d heard rumors of the princess’s stature before, tales and stories. But none of them did the reality any semblance of justice. It’s been said that Targaryens are closer to gods than men. You never really understood what that meant until you met the princess. She stood from her seat as you entered, her long flowing silken white gown spreading out on the floor. Two of the girls gasped, another began mumbling a prayer to the Mother, and all you could do was stare. The Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen stood nine feet tall, towering over everything and everyone in the room.

“Ladies, a pleasure for you to join us this morning,” King Viserys stepped forward, opening his arms in a welcome gesture. “This is my daughter Rhaenyra, heir to the Iron Throne. We are eager to meet you this morning. The Red Keep, our home, is so large and busy that it takes nothing short of an army to staff it. I am told that each of you brings some valuable skills to that might assist us in more efficiently running our home. More specifically, you would be in the service of my daughter here.”

The Lord Protector of the Realm, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, first of his name, son of House Targaryen that survived the doom and rode dragons of legend stood right in front of all of you. And yet, no one looked at him. All eyes were on the princess behind him, towering over all with a beauty so radiant no song would ever do her justice.

She looked down at you and smirked. Or at least, you thought she did because in an instant it was gone and her face turned neutral, uninterested, once again.

Your trials as a potential handmaid were rather rough. You were no stranger to mishaps and mistakes, often forgetting tasks or mishandling running baths for the princess. You thought certainly you would not earn the position and have to return to your meager farmhouse in the Riverlands where your father worked you to exhaustion tending to the animals.

You were met with immense surprise upon hearing that you’d been asked for specifically by the princess. You met her in her bedchambers after your selection. She was standing by the open window overlooking the Blackwater when you arrived. She somehow seemed even larger than before, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited for her acknowledgment. “I’m so pleased you accepted the offer.” She finally turned to face you, and began walking toward you. “Would you mind fetching me some fruit from the kitchen?”

You’d almost forgotten yourself. “As it pleases you, my lady.”

Over weeks you began with simple tasks of running bath water, helping clothe the princess, fetching food, and tending to visitors. The princess offered you little in terms of conversation as you found her to be rather quiet, not shy by any means, but definitely a woman of very few words. She often spoke with her eyes, giving the most subtle signs of approval and disapproval that you began to pick up on.

Even after months in her service, you never became accustomed to her stature. Each time you saw her was like seeing her for the first time again. When she walked with the tallest and most gallant knights, she made them look the size of children. Some seats in the keep were specifically designed to accommodate her size, though very few of the doorways were high enough for her to pass through without ducking.

You being barely waist high to her frequently required a stepstool to fix her hair or properly fit her dresses. It was during these times that she spoke to you the most. As you stood behind her fitting a jeweled tiara onto her head she asked your opinion on her father, her uncle Daemon, political matters, and what lord you thought might make a good husband.

Even to you, the bond you were forming during these times was not obvious, but it did help alleviate some of the tension whenever you were in a room with her.

Your thoughts of past times with the princess are shattered as the sound of a sword being drawn echoes throughout the Round Hall. The Blackwood boy had drawn his sword and was facing the Bracken lord. The princess stood soon after and strided around the crowd followed closely by Ser Criston. “Come, Y/N,” she said as she walked past you.

There was the sound of swords clashing and then a pained cry. Rhaenyra did not pause to see the result of the fight.

You overheard the princess arguing with her father some days later after your return to King’s Landing. You did your best to not intentionally listen, but their voices carried down the corridor just outside the princess’s bedchambers. “Marriage is necessary, Rhaenyra. The future of our house rests on you and you alone.”

“I understand that, father. Don’t you want me to find a man that is not only suitable but one that I take a liking to? Those storm lords are little more than well-dressed soldiers. Not lovers, not husbands, not fathers. All they know is how to fight and die.”

Their argument carried on for another hour as they fought back and forth over the topic, the king constantly bringing up other highborn men as possibilities. Rhaenyra eventually had heard enough and stormed out of his solar and into her chambers. She shut the door behind her and slid to the floor in tears. This was the first time you’d seen her cry in earnest. You approached her cautiously. “My lady, are you alright?”

“Fine, Y/N. I’m fine.” She wiped the tears away. It was strange seeing something so large appear so vulnerable. You placed a hand on her shoulder and she looked at you. Her lilac eyes piercing you. She leaned her head against your shoulder and began crying even harder. Her larger hands found your lower back and pulled you in closer as she wept.

[gerlionrise]

 Reign of the Heart P1

Pairing: Jon Snow x Reader (female character) Synopsis: In a realm where duty binds hearts and crowns weigh heavy, a fragile alliance transforms into something far more powerful. Amid battles, secrets, and an unyielding desire for a better future, love may prove the most formidable force of all. But can passion thrive in the shadow of the Iron Throne?   AN: Please note that this story is a work of fiction set in the world of «A Song of Ice and Fire», but it does not adhere strictly to the canon of Game of Thrones. I have created original characters and changed certain family names, titles, and locations to fit the narrative. While inspired by the world George R.R. Martin has built, the names and events in this story are not meant to represent the original characters or lore. This is simply a new adventure within a beloved universe. Enjoy! PART 1

Fire Beneath the Frost

The marriage had been forged in duty, not affection. You and Jon Snow were as mismatched as two could be—he, the brooding king of the Seven Kingdoms, reluctant to rule or to wed, and you, the daughter of a slain lord, chosen by the council for your unassuming position and northern roots.  

The union was meant to be a symbol of unity, but within the cold stone walls of the Red Keep, it felt more like a battlefield.  

Jon had grown accustomed to the solitude of leadership, to silence and sacrifice. You, on the other hand, had always spoken your mind, unwilling to shrink in the presence of his brooding glares or sharp words. From the moment vows were exchanged, it was clear that you and Jon Snow would not easily find peace in each other’s company.  

---

The days were marked by arguments.  

“You can’t just make decisions without consulting me,” you snapped one morning in the council chamber.  

Jon looked up from the table, his dark eyes narrowing. “I am the king.”  

“And I am your queen,” you shot back. “Or does that title mean nothing?”  

The council members exchanged awkward glances, clearly uncomfortable with the tension between their king and queen. Tyrion Lannister cleared his throat, attempting to diffuse the situation. “Perhaps we should reconvene later—”  

“No,” Jon interrupted, his gaze locked on you. “This matter is settled.”  

You glared at him, fury burning in your chest, but you held your tongue. Storming out of the chamber would only give him the satisfaction of thinking he had won.  

---  

The evenings were no better.  

Jon rarely shared the royal chambers, retreating instead to his study or the training yard. On the nights when he did return, the air between you crackled with unspoken resentment.  

“You could at least try to act like a husband,” you said one night as he entered the room, his cloak still dusted with the dirt of the training yard.  

Jon paused, his expression hard. “And you could try to act like a queen instead of questioning my every decision.”  

Your jaw tightened, but you refused to let him see how deeply his words stung. “If you didn’t treat me like a figurehead, perhaps I wouldn’t have to.”  

His silence was more cutting than any argument, and when he turned away without another word, you felt both anger and a pang of something else—something you refused to name.  

---  

The tension came to a head one evening at a feast. The hall was filled with the sound of laughter and the clinking of goblets as lords and ladies from across the realm gathered to celebrate a successful harvest. You sat at Jon’s side, your expression carefully neutral as you endured another evening of strained civility.  

But then, Lord Harrick, a southern noble with a charming smile and a penchant for flattery, leaned toward you.  

“My queen,” Harrick said, his voice low and smooth, “you are as radiant as the moonlight itself. Truly, the North does not deserve such beauty.”  

You smiled politely, though his words were overly familiar. “The North has its charms, my lord. It is not so undeserving as you might think.”  

Jon, seated beside you, stiffened. His jaw clenched, and his hand gripped his goblet tightly.  

Harrick, oblivious to the king’s darkening mood, continued. “Perhaps you might grace me with a dance later, Your Grace? It would be an honor.”  

Before you could respond, Jon’s voice cut through the conversation like a blade. “My wife does not dance.”  

Harrick blinked, startled by the king’s sharp tone. “I meant no offense, Your Grace. It was merely a—”  

“She will not dance,” Jon said firmly, his gaze locking on yours.  

You bristled at his tone, the possessiveness in his voice igniting a spark of defiance. “I can speak for myself,” you said, your voice steady but pointed.  

Jon turned to you, his expression thunderous. “You are my wife,” he said quietly, his voice laced with warning. “You will not flirt with other men.”  

“I wasn’t flirting,” you shot back, your anger flaring. “And even if I were, it’s none of your concern.”

Jon rose from his seat, his chair scraping loudly against the stone floor. The hall fell silent, the tension between you palpable.  

“Come with me,” Jon said, his tone leaving no room for argument.  

You hesitated, your pride urging you to refuse, but the weight of the room’s stares pressed on you. Reluctantly, you stood and followed him out of the hall, your anger simmering just beneath the surface.  

---  

The moment the door to the royal chambers closed behind you, the argument erupted.  

“You had no right to speak to me like that in front of everyone,” you said, your voice sharp with anger.  

“And you had no right to entertain that lord’s advances,” Jon retorted, his eyes blazing.  

“He was being polite,” you said, throwing your hands. “You’re the one who turned it into a scene.”  

Jon stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “He was flirting with you,” he said, his voice low and accusing. “And you let him.”  

“So what if he was?” you snapped, your defiance flaring. “At least he pays me some attention, which is more than I can say for you.”  

Jon’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening. “Again, you are my wife,” he said, his voice heavy with possession. “Do you even understand what that means?”  

You glared at him, your chest heaving with anger. “Yes, it means being ignored, dismissed, and treated like an inconvenience.”  

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you thick with tension. Then Jon’s hand shot out, gripping your wrist—not harshly, but firmly enough to command your attention.  

“You make it hard for me,” he said, his voice rough with frustration. “Every word you say, every look you give me—it’s like a fire I can’t put out.”  

Your breath caught, the unexpected vulnerability in his words momentarily disarming you. But you quickly masked your surprise with anger. “Then perhaps you should have married someone else,” you said coldly, pulling your wrist from his grasp.  

Jon stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. Then he turned and walked away, leaving you alone in the chamber.  

---  

That night, you lay awake, the weight of his words pressing on you. You had fought with Jon countless times before, but this argument felt different—more personal, more raw. His admission echoed in your mind, stirring something you couldn’t quite name.  

But even as your thoughts churned, you refused to let your resolve falter. Jon Snow might be your husband, but you would not let him control you. If he wanted your respect, he would have to earn it.  

In the silence of the royal chambers, the unspoken tension between you lingered, a fire smoldering beneath the frost.

[sinceileftyoublog]

Pernice Brothers Interview: Writing to Live

Joe Pernice; Photo by Colleen Nicholson

BY JORDAN MAINZER

The album cover for Who Will You Believe (New West), the first album in 5 years from Pernice Brothers, features a close-up photo of a man who doesn't "care about being seen." That man, of course, is Joe Pernice, who formed Pernice Brothers over 25 years ago after the breakup of his beloved alt country institution Scud Mountain Boys. But while Pernice may be indifferent-to-averse to the idea of celebrity or even public persona, he's not trying to remain hidden, per se. The photo that graces the cover doesn't attempt to be flattering, nor a clean-cut design: It asymmetrically cuts off the brim and top of his hat, his right glasses lens frame, the bottom of his chin, and the back of his head. (Of course, the band name and album title is superimposed on his face.) It makes you pay more attention to Pernice than you otherwise would. What is he looking at? Why? In a way, it really fits Who Will You Believe, a record that exists on a separate plane from today's singer-songwriter albums that tend to be straight diary entries combined with biography or filled with Easter eggs and callbacks. Instead, Pernice, an accomplished writer in many different mediums, shows that he can write about almost anything. The possibilities are infinite.

When I spoke to Pernice over the phone earlier this month, he let me know that he was in the middle of a particularly fruitful period. "I've been writing more songs than I ever have in my life," he said. "I go through these periods where I have a manic blast." Indeed, whether or not Who Will You Believe was born from one of these spurts, the album gives you a sense for how he works. Neko Case duet "I Don't Need That Anymore" started with an off-hand remark his mom made about having a good figure when she "needed it;" Pernice took the line and turned it into a devastating country track about a dying love, replete with twangy, chiming guitars, string swells and steady mallet percussion. He processes the deaths of three important people--his cousin, Rhino executive Gary Stewart, and David Berman--in stunning strummer "The Purple Rain", referencing the last one not with cutesy lyrical winks and nods but ones that even casual Silver Jews/Purple Mountains listeners will pick up, respectfully showing his intentions to pay tribute. Of course, Pernice still finds room for ambiguity, clever wordplay, and fun atop it all, a true songwriter's songwriter. His penchant for cultural allusions remains strong, even in conversation. Referring to a recent day where he wrote 5 songs in a day, 3 of them keepers, Pernice said, " I felt like Sylvia Plath at the end of her life when he was in a manic state of making shit," before clarifying, deadpan, "That was before she put her head in the oven."

Sure, there are some tracks on Who Will You Believe that are purely sad or strange. Pernice croons on the slow "What We Had", atop acoustic guitars, tremolo electric plucking, and tambourine, "It's a comedy of errors, but it's sad / I think of what we had / It's hard to watch good love go bad." Instrumental waltz "A Song for Sir Robert Helpmann", meanwhile, juxtaposes strings, keys, drum rolls, and wordless vocalization, creepy and lurking. Its mood is inspired by Pernice's fear of Helpmann's role as The Child Catcher in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. "That movie scared the shit out of me when I was a kid," he said. "[Helpmann's] absolutely terrifying." Though these tunes occupy a singular mood, though, for the most part, Who Will You Believe is a fun album, Pernice's brightest and loosest sounding in years. "I always play with people who are good people. I've never made a record with an asshole," Pernice said. "When you get really good players who aren't just phoning it in, it's really cool." Past collaborators pervade the album, such as Joe's brother Bob and wife Laura Stein (formerly of Halifax indie pop band Jale). Toronto-based choral group Choir! Choir! Choir! help Pernice give his eulogies on "The Purple Rain", ending the album on an uplifting note. And his pop sensibilities, Beatles, Bowie, and Bacharach influences shine on "Not This Pig" and "A Man of Means", songs with baroque breakdowns and bouncy drum fills.

Ultimately, Pernice is one of those songwriters who views music as a satisfying puzzle. Though he writes all of his songs on acoustic guitar, theoretically making them easy to play solo live, the tunes undoubtedly shapeshift as he records them. He describes a song like "Hey, Guitar" as "a balls-out, heavy tune"--it's got massive electric licks layered atop jangly strumming and shiny keys, and ripping distorted squalling between verses, fading in and out at the end like an AM radio hit. "I don't think [it] will translate [live]," he said. "[But] you don't know whether [it's gonna be a train wreck] until you do it. Every song was a new song the first time." You can bet he's looking forward to figuring it out, one of the most thrilling parts of music to him. After all, it's only now he's just beginning to dive into an almost 20-year-old song, "Say Goodnight to the Lady" from 2005's Discover A Lovelier You. "I've been working on it lately, and it's started to feel like my song."

Pernice; Photo by Colleen Nicholson

I knew that Pernice had written at least "The Purple Rain" as part of a mourning process, but reading about the context behind Who Will You Believe, I tried to see if I could construct something more broad. Before writing the record, his son retired from playing high-level youth baseball, which Pernice coached, and Pernice went from being on a baseball diamond most of the week for over half of the year, to not being on one at all. As such, I asked him whether songwriting is a way for him to generally process any sort of life change. As it turns out, it's much more. "I write songs so I can manage to function," he said. "It's just a necessary thing for my well-being. It could be anything. The act of doing it is the thing that makes me feel good and not crazy. A lot of times, the subject might not even be all that important in that regard." And so I thought back about the album cover, wondering what Pernice was gazing at during the photoshoot, realizing that, too, doesn't matter. What he feels about songwriting is the way I feel about listening. Both of us--all of us--are just trying to take in the world as best as we can.

[sarsaparillaart]

“The 12-made-10 and the broken dance. The Accelerando. The Change of Ladies. The Metronome and the Song. The Dance-Architect and Rhythm-Draw. The Body. The Chassé. The Rèvèrence. The Unheard Objection.”

Swordtember 7 - Moon

Longer lore piece below. Rendering nacre is harder than I thought btw.

10 Invocations for 10 Moons

O Milkmoon! Life and growth and rot and unloving lust. All things that spread because they must, and all things that take because they can. You the ancient forest and the stinking city, the corn in the field and the smut upon it. You, language and terrible ideas that spread through furtive whispers, poisoning the dwelling minds. You, the disgusting undying evergrowing! The beautiful cancer inside all things! O Halcyon! Grow!

O Coalmoon! The everflowing torrent of change. The violent storm of light and fire and lightning and smoke! You, the forge that melts the world and mixes and ruins and fixes and starts again! You, the white-hot flame that makes glass from deserts and brick from clay and ash from men! You, the violent storm that changes them again to something new! O Labile! Change!

O Saltmoon! The long-held breath; existence without resolution! You yourself the fear of death. You, salted fish and mummified kings! You, the unmarred monument-stone and the author's name on a page! History now and never-past. The unbroken line and unmoving sky! You, still water and rock-hard bread. You who cannot stop, for you cannot move! O Sterile! Continue!

O Winemoon! The impossible dance, shattered legs, and blooded throat! The thirst for drink that already pumps through veins! You, the song that never ends! The silent  verses that flow in a torrents from the lungs of all. The melody in birdsong and the rhythm in the beating of hearts! You the first, last, and million dances unending! The scurrying of rats and the procession of pilgrims! The flowing of water and the whirling of atoms! O Blithe! Revel!

O Nacremoon! The beauty in numbers; the constant ticking up and down and ceaselessness of a spiraling fractal. You the tides of gain and loss. You the lies of luck! You, outlier in an infinite range! The meaningless profundity between digits! You who live in the clink of coins and the arc of arrows. You which breathes probability and bleeds geometric form!  You, the one perfect thing! O Mnemonic! Reckon!

O Silkmoon! The billion lines in a billion webs. You, the strands connecting me to you and you to them and them to me! The lines that connect our eyes to these words and these words to their meanings in a million doomed languages! You, the threads of love and hatred and fealty. The connections between the disconnected! The net of staggering complexity that ties everything that does and does not exist! You, worm-spider in the shape of a moon, spinning and knitting and cutting and shaping! O Sibling! Tether!

O Bilemoon! Flesh and beautiful body. The face perfect, all sharp curves and smooth edges! The glow of sickened health. You, the muscular fat rippling across wide tracts of flesh! You, fast-strength! You skin radiant! You eyes clear! The cutless and malleable form radiating death and sex! You the beautiful parts of existing! You incarnation incarnate! The singular point of body! O Chassis! Live!

O Sugarmoon. You the sky and sea! The wanderer and a researcher. The seer and a thinker! You, the answerless question; the sweet smell on the wind and far-off shore from whence it came! You, the prow of every ship. The boots of every wanderer. The wind in sails! You, promise of discovery! Onward. Onward. Onward! The acidic desire for discovery. The thousand miles within a step and the step  of one thousand miles. You, the hidden name! The reason to search. The lie that gives discovery stronger meaning. You, the push- pull freeing us from stagnation! The sky and sea and the vast stretches of land. The roads and paths and meadows and monuments and wonders on the page and in the minds of explorers. O Peregrine! Seek!

O Venommoon! The vengeance for a broken thing. The well-undeserved punishment. You, the thing that knows sins and castigation! Rejected fate. The death of the young and the continuation of the old. You, the steel-flash of retribution. You, implacable justice. The death of the killer. You, impatience. You, rash action! Destiny taken into unworthy hands. The failed severing of cause and effect, and the successful bending of rules. You, the rebel-judge! O Bellicose! Try!

O Oilmoon! The wretched and unfair hive of golden finery and silver-wealth. You, power manifest! You, monarch in wing-flesh! The servitude of slaves; golden light on the crown; silver light on the usurper's sword. You, the right to rule and the power to enforce! You, every-kenning. The scurrying ants underfoot and the marching steps of soldiers above. You who force the bent knee. Command. You the law and the tax and the splendor and wealth of vast nations. You, the honeycombed tracts of land, the spread and focused will. You, the draw of fealty, the protection of leaders,the fear of tyrants. O Primate! Domineer!

[dmagedgoods]

Six-Song Soundtrack

I was tagged by @spyridonya and very happy about it! Thank you so much! 💕 Rules: If you're tagged, make a new post with links to music and/or lyrics describing the following: 1. An event that defines your character's past 2. How your character sees themselves 3. How others view them 4. Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic) 5. A major fight scene 6. End credits song I tag: @dragonflytehanu @tavyliasin @thesolemnhour @silversiren1101 @ineadhyn @jean-dieu @iwoszareba @three-of-crows @chaosteddybear --- I am doing it for Salvadore, my Knight Commander in Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous. 1. An event that defines your character's past Child of the Stars – Fish in a Birdcage “Take the world by storm Muster all your strength Embrace the forces that surround you Bend gravity and space You are a child of the stars Shout what has been unsung Open all the doors around you Use the power in your lungs I could only lead you so far I believe in who you are” ~ His mentor Eneas taught Salvadore that there is nothing he can’t achieve, that he is meant to rule and trained his skills and abilities to get there during his childhood and early teenage years, until, eventually, Eneas had to leave. This loss haunted and shaped Salvadore just as much as his teachings. The song represents the moment Eneas decided that was time to part and Salvadore would find and go his way alone now, strong and prepared for the challenges ahead of him. - 2. How your character sees themselves Natural – Imagine Dragons “Will you hold the line When every one of them has given up and given in? Tell me In this house of mine Nothing ever comes without a consequence or cost, tell me Will the stars align? Will heaven step in? Will it save us from our sin, will it? 'Cause this house of mine stands strong […] That's the price you pay Leave behind your heart and cast away Just another product of today Rather be the hunter than the prey And you're standing on the edge face up 'Cause you're a natural A beating heart of stone You gotta be so cold To make it in this world” ~ Following Eneas teachings, Salvadore knows the path to power doesn’t come without a price to pay, neither does ruling itself. He is ready and willing to carry the burden of responsibility, with the unwavering belief that he is the one to change the world. - 3. How others view them Not A Common Man – Matt Smith; from American Psycho “Look at history, open the books There are statues with great looks There are gods, there are kings I'm pretty sure I'm the same thing Beyond boundaries, beyond rules I've been taught in the best schools There is little I won't do Is the same thing true of you? I am needing so much more Every pleasure is a chore I am something other than A common man” ~ His conceit, his cold demeanor and a cruel streak towards his enemies and those neglecting their duties causes some to expect him to be much more unfeeling, removed and selfish than he is. There are those who view him as a radiant savior, but also enough people who are appalled by his arrogance. - 4. Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic) Fang mich an - Herbert Grönemeyer "Bist der Luftzug Mein Verstand Bist der Unfug Mein Südseestrand

Du holst den Wind Zum Trocknen rein Wo du nicht bist Will ich nicht sein Nimm mich ein Nimm mich heim

Wie du schwebst Wie du wehst Du mich trägst Wie du dich vergisst

Wie du streunst Dich verläufst Tag und Nacht vermischst Wie du in mein Meer stichst Geflissentlich

[...] Wie du's greifst Wie du passt Wie du reizt, du manipulierst Wie du's weißt Du zufasst Du mich komplettierst Wie du meine Welt neu vermisst Dafür liebe ich dich - 5. A major fight scene Centuries – Fall Out Boy “Some legends are told Some turn to dust or to gold But you will remember me Remember me for centuries And just one mistake Is all it will take We'll go down in history Remember me for centuries” - 6. End credits song Lean Back – Josh Vietti

[seishuswife]

Peregrin Took | Pining

Word count: 1,788

I will update soon with the AO3 link! In the meantime, enjoy!

For many years, the hobbit Peregrin Took and the lovely human maiden Y/N had been the dearest of friends in the city of Minas Tirith. Though from two different races and walks of life, a special bond had blossomed between them during the War of the Ring.

Y/N was a brave shieldmaiden who had fought alongside the men of Gondor against Sauron's forces. Pippin had been in awe of her selflessness and skill with the sword from the moment they met on the battlefield. And Y/N found herself equally impressed by the hobbit's unwavering courage and loyalty to his friends. An unlikely companionship was forged between the warrior-lady and the small but mighty knight of Gondor.

After the war's end, Pippin remained in Minas Tirith to serve in the Citadel Guard under his friend, the new King Aragorn. Y/N stayed as well, having been appointed a lady-in-waiting to Queen Arwen. No matter how busy their duties kept them, Pippin and Y/N always made time to stroll the gardens together, share meals, or read and smoke pipe-weed side-by-side.

As the years passed, Pippin remained ever in awe of Y/N's compassionate spirit, quick wit, and boundless bravery that inspired even the most hardened soldiers. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever known, inside and out. But the hobbit tried not to dwell on her beauty too much, fearing his heart began harboring improper thoughts.

More than once, Pippin found his gaze lingering a bit too long on the gentle swell of Y/N's curves beneath her gowns, or the elegant line of her neck left tantalizingly bare. He averted his eyes, cheeks flushing as he berated himself. This was his dearest friend - he had no right to indulge in such lascivious thoughts!

Yet try as he might, Pippin could not quell the longing that slowly simmered within him. Simple, innocent gestures like Y/N's melodious laughter or the brush of her hand against his arm as they walked set his heart hammering within his chest. He cherished their warm embraces, but they also left him yearning to linger in her sweetly-scented presence for just a bit longer.

For her part, Y/N too found herself increasingly captivated by her dear hobbit friend. At first she excused away the fluttering in her chest whenever Pippin flashed that roguish grin, or the tingles she felt when he squeezed her hand affectionately. He was just so warm and caring, she told herself. Of course she adored his company.

But the more Y/N admired Pippin's unwavering spirit, his courage and loyalty, the more she felt her esteem blooming into something dangerously close to romantic longing. She noticed the ripple of his firm muscles through his tunic as he trained every day with the Guards, his adorable concentration as he puffed on his pipe, those striking emerald eyes that seemed to peer straight into her soul.

One afternoon as they sat beneath a shady tree, Pippin reading aloud poetry while Y/N's fingers idly caressed his soft curls, she found herself inexplicably captivated by his lips. Brief, wistful flashes appeared in her mind's eye of how they might feel brushing across her own, of Pippin pressing her back against the tree trunk as they kissed passionately...

Y/N snatched her hand back as if burned, a flush creeping up her neck. Then as Pippin gave her a curious glance, she cleared her throat. "My apologies, Pip. Please, go on."

Pippin gave her another curious look but continued reading, seemingly unaware of the yearning storm roiling within his friend.

As the years rolled on, Y/N found it increasingly difficult to subdue the longing in her heart. With every tender embrace, every roguish grin from Pippin, she fell harder for the captivating halfling. His very presence made her spirits soar. Little did she know, Pippin was fighting the same inner battle.

The hobbit, too, was wrestling with potent yet forbidden emotions. Each time he gazed upon Y/N's radiant beauty - the delicate curves of her face, the shine of her chestnut tresses, the dazzling smile that lit up her entire countenance - he felt an undeniable yearning stir within him. More than once he caught himself imagining what it might feel like to run his fingers through those silken locks, to pull Y/N close and taste the sweetness of her lips upon his own.

One quiet evening as they sat together by the fireplace, wine glasses in hand as Pippin entertained her with tales of the Shire, he watched the dancing flames flicker across her lovely face. Y/N's hair shon, her eyes sparkling with mirth at his anecdotes. Pippin felt a swell of tenderness and pure affection towards this woman who had held his heart in her unaware hands for so many years. Before he could reconsider, he reached out and cupped her cheek tenderly.

Y/N's breath hitched at the unexpected intimacy of his touch. Feeling emboldened by the wine and Pippin's proximity, she leaned in closer until their faces were a hairsbreadth apart.

"Pip..." she breathed shakily. She searched those captivating emerald depths for any indication he felt even a fraction of the turbulent desire blazing within her own heart.

But at that moment, the door to the parlor swung open and they sprang apart, flushing guiltily as a group of Citadel Guards entered. Pippin dragged a hand through his curls with a grunt of frustration. Y/N stared into the fire, silently admonishing herself for her lack of restraint.

Pippin chastised himself for such wistful fancies. Y/N was his dearest friend, his truest companion. To risk destroying that bond with improper cravings was unthinkable. And yet the more time passed, the stronger his feelings grew.

Until one fateful afternoon when Pippin and Y/N were relaxing together in the gardens, sharing a pipe as they often did. As a cool spring breeze tossed Y/N's hair across those delicate, sun-kissed features, Pippin felt an overwhelming yearning to lean over and caress her face. His fingers twitched involuntarily towards her.

"Y/N, I..." he murmured hoarsely. Suddenly feeling flushed, the hobbit realized with a pang of bittersweet joy that his affection for this woman went far beyond friendship. All those years of denying it, and now he could no longer hide from the truth singing in his heart.

Y/N turned to Pippin with a quizzical look, sensing a shift in his manner. "What is it, Pip?"

Before he could second-guess himself, the hobbit reached up and cupped Y/N's face in his hands, rising on tiptoe to capture her soft lips with his own.

Fireworks of sublime bliss and longing flooded through Pippin in those few wondrous, reckless seconds their mouths were pressed together. He had risked everything on the vain hope Y/N might feel even an inkling of the passion consuming him inside.

As they parted, Pippin fearfully searched Y/N's wide eyes, bracing himself for anger or rejection. But instead, he saw a tempest of profound tenderness and desire burning in those beautiful depths.

"Oh Pippin..." Y/N whispered throatily. Unable to resist further, she threw propriety to the wind. Her own hands caressed the hobbit's face as she pulled him close once more, fervently returning his kiss with every fiber of wistful longing she had denied for so many years.

This time their embrace was fervent, desperate, all-consuming. Y/N melted into the protective circle of Pippin's arms, relishing the feeling of his firm chest and toned body pressed against her own soft curves. She wound her fingers through his chestnut curls, holding him impossibly close as their mouths tasted, explored, savored one another with ravenous delight.

Pippin had never known such unrestrained bliss, such euphoric freedom. He drank in Y/N's warm floral scent, the sweetness of her lips, the body of hers which he clutched in wordless elation. This was what he had dreamed of and desired for longer than he could remember, yet never imagined he would be so fortunate to experience.

When at last they broke apart, clinging to one another in trembling rapture, Pippin could hardly speak through the tears of joy and disbelief coursing down his face. He stroked Y/N's flushed cheek in wonderment.

"Y/N...my dearest, precious Y/N...all these years I've loved you from afar. Too afraid to speak my heart, certain such bliss could never be returned."

Y/N wept as well, smiling as she brushed the stray curls from Pippin's face. "And I as well, my brave hobbit. I tried to silence these feelings, thinking it impossible for our love to be accepted. But now...oh Pip, now I fear I cannot live without your light in my life!"

She kissed him again, more softly and tenderly this time. "From the moment we met on the battlefield, you began claiming a place in my warrior's heart. A place that only grew larger and deeper with each passing year of our friendship. I have loved you for so long and never allowed myself to acknowledge the truth. But I can deny it no longer - I am yours, Peregrin Took. Now and forever."

Pippin cupped Y/N's face in his hands, their foreheads touching as tears streamed down both their cheeks in mingled joy and cathartic release. "And I am yours, my lady. My heart has been pledged to you since first I looked upon your noble spirit and stunning face. When I bravely fought beside men, it was your valor that inspired me more than anything."

He kissed her again, deeply, reverently, as if trying to make up for all the years of longing that had gone unfulfilled. "I love you Y/N. I love you with everything that I am."

Y/N pulled her hobbit close, cradling his head against her chest as she stroked his silken curls. "And I love you, my dearest Peregrin. Nothing will ever part us."

And in that moment, the rest of the world fell away until there was only the two of them, a human maiden and halfling knight, bound together by their love. They had found their heart's twin flame at long last.

For a long while, they simply held each other, trading tender kisses and whispered endearments and reassurances of their newfound love. Pippin trailed featherlight kisses along Y/N's jaw and throat as she sighed in contentment, her fingers lightly scratching his nape and playing with his chestnut curls.

Finally Y/N pulled away just enough to gaze into Pippin's eyes, which shone with pure adoration. She cupped his face in her hands, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. Finally feeling bliss at the long-awaited confession.

[indigomarina]

Hazbin OC x Canon Week Day 3 - Redemption (SwanSong)

For @hazbinocxcanon Warning: cults, heavily implied abuse, implied character death, yandere behavior from Sylvia.

Sylvia's not really 'redeemed' so much as she's in a much more better space mentally, etc. Sylvia is from this for those who want more of her (though, please proceed with caution, it's..a lot)

Sylvia sits alone in their living room, staring off into the distance. Her mind drifts back to her childhood growing up in that cult - the harsh indoctrination, the strict rules, the punishments for disobedience. She shudders, remembering how scared and confused she felt as a little girl. "No child should have to go through that… They stole my innocence, my freedom, before I could even speak." Flashes of being a rebellious, misguided teenager, lashing out with violence and getting in with the wrong circles. The shame, the self-loathing, the aimlessness. And then finally, a sharp pain at the back of her skull and then silence... "I was so lost back then. If it wasn't for discovering my divine purpose…"

Sylvia's heart brimmed with memories of a time when she felt utterly lost and consumed by fear. But then, a miraculous moment unfolded as she soared towards the heavens, forever etching a sense of awe and wonder in her soul.

She thinks of the day she manifested her angelic powers and was recruited into the exorcists. How it gave her life new meaning and direction, a way to unleash her fury on the deserving.

"For the first time, I felt in control, strong… powerful. It was intoxicating." Sylvia said, smiling faintly. But even that couldn't fill the gnawing void inside her. Not until she met HIM. Sylvia's face softens as she remembers laying eyes on Adam for the first time. "My brave, fearless warrior. My king, my earth and sky. My destiny…" Sylvia finally reunited with her three other sisters, her only remaining family members. Despite their past issues, she had longed for their presence. It was a bit uncomfortable to see her father after so long, considering their strained relationship when they were alive. However, in the end, Sylvia was overjoyed to see him and vice versa. She gazes around their beautiful home, "And now look at me - I have everything I ever wanted." She hears the front door open and turns to see Adam entering, looking exhausted from a long day's work. "Hey babe, sorry I'm - oof!" Adam said, yawning before Sylvia jumped up and rushes over, throwing her arms around him in a fierce hug. She catches Adam off guard, but he chuckles and returns the embrace. "Ooh, someone's affectionate already. Everything okay?" Adam asked. Sylvia beamed up at him, "Everything is wonderful, my love. I was just thinking about how blessed I am to have you in my life, to call you my husband." Adam grinned, "Well, I am pretty amazing. Nice to see you finally admitting it." Sylvia playfully swats at him, "Incorrigible beast." However, she grew serious, "But truly, Adam, you are the light of my world. My safe harbor in the storm." Sylvia said, stroking his cheek tenderly. "I love you with every fiber of my being." Adam was momentarily stunned by her intensity, but then smiled warmly, "Love you too, Sylvie." She pulls him down for a soul-searching kiss, her way of saying thank you - for being her salvation, her redemption, her everything. When they finally part, Sylvia is radiant with joy. "Come, my heart. Let's go make the most of our beautiful forever." Sylvia said wistfully She takes his hand and leads him off toward the bedroom. For tonight at least, Sylvia's inner darkness is kept at bay, banished by the shining force of her love for her husband. Whatever shadows may have haunted her in the past, in this moment, she is deliriously, blissfully happy.