#savethelies

[thehipethnographerspick]

K. Forest another example of how grimy the industry is

Dude been putting in solid work for a real long time and still gets little recognition

Been putting out some of the best R&B since Guidance

This EP from 2018, 'When It's All Said and Done', a real good project

2018

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐕

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: Would some like this to be on my Ao3? For better reading perhaps?

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: You take the Mini Marines to the Apothecary, and find yourself getting uncomfortable with Dr. Ryker.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

TW // None.

|°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| |°ɪᴄʜᴏʀ’ꜱ ᴀᴏ3°| |°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| • {Chapter IV} • {Chapter VI}

To get Saveth and Sarvak to go to the apothecary was a hassle. More so Saveth as that little Night Lord stealth skills definitely has… well, the skill of a Night Lord, evasion skills too. Always running away when you blink, just as you find him. His little armored claws and rumbles skittering across the shelves and floorboards from wherever you find him: behind cereal boxes, mugs, antiques and even behind furniture.

Yes, you tried to persuade him as well with promises that he could… hunt every spider and rodent that he can find and bring it to you to show how proud he was of it, and that almost made him come out before he paused, thought about it more, and then dashed back into his hiding place, making you groan out in frustration. At this point, you just think he’s being a tease. You have been trying to catch him for… about three hours, your determination unwavering because you didn’t really have anything else to do besides cancel your workday off and make an appointment for the Apothecary. So, you were sure as hell that you were going to take this little rascal and take him to the Apothecary like you planned. You're not going to waste work time for this.

Though, when you do finally catch the Night Lord, it is only because you ask Sarvak to catch him with a promise to him as well that he can bully Saveth on the way there. Not harm him as the Apothecary would no doubt be mad but just tease the hell out of him… and some cuddles too. Can’t forget the rewarding cuddles. (Which at that promise had Atheloca and Scarab trying to catch him as well.)

Now, you have a Saveth that cries out occasionally for cuddles and out of misery that he had to go to the Apothecary. His claws getting stuck in the net of the Nature Bound toy critter cage that you’ve managed to find around your apartment… You think you remember putting butterflies in there one time, but now you’re catching a rambunctious Night Lord in it.

“Calm down, Saveth.” You sigh down at the Night Lord that claws at the net, wailing to be let out. Your eyes focusing on the road as you drive. His skull-like helmet sometimes hitting against the net in defeat with a low whine. Which, in return, gets a tease from Sarvak as promised. Which then the World Eater gains a hiss in response. “I’m only taking you guys to the Apothecary because of that… weird, growth thing that happened with Scarab.”

The Night Lord doesn’t seemed too amused by your words and wails out again. Trying to make you feel bad so you can let him out. Your hands tightening on the steering wheel of your car in great effort to ignore such calls before you say and try to persuade him once more. “Don’t you want to get big again, and at a possibly faster pace? Certainly, you would like to.”

The Night Lord pauses his actions, thinking, weighing his options. The car going silent besides the hum of its engine and the sound of other cars passing by as you and the other little marines wait for his response. Wondering what his logic would be, and of course. He gives an almost grieving whine that Sarvak teases outside of the net, and that triggers Saveth in a way that he just starts thrashing at the net, growling, desperate to get his claws on the World Eater.

You could only sigh and shake your head at his actions and attempts Saveth does towards Sarvak that looks all too pleased with himself when you glance down at them before refocusing on the road. You’re honestly even a little surprised that a bug toy like that was keeping the little Night Lord caged in there so well. Admittedly, it was slowly falling apart, but it would keep him in there long enough until you arrive at the Apothecary.

“Hello there Mrs!” A young lady greets you with a bright smile on her face, always greeting you warmly and never faulting. The smell of sterilization hitting your nose while her hazel eyes cast a glance down at Saveth in the sealed, toy bug catcher before her expression becomes more amused. No doubt wondering what caused him to be in such confinement.

“I couldn't get him to come.” You simply say, putting the catcher on top of the counter with a tired sigh. Observing how Saveth seems to prickle up when the young lady coos sweetly down at him. Her fingers gently wiggling at the ruined net but being logical enough not to get too close. The many metal trinkets on her wrists clunking together.

You think she’s claimed by a Salamander with all these… forge-like trinkets all over her, and how innocent she’s been like over the past times you brought the miniature marines in. It just kinda screamed ‘Salamander’ like… it was just a perfect fit too. Innocent seeming woman with a Salamander? Ultimate fluff.

“Yeah? I can see that.” The young lady laughed lightly, leaning back to stop cooing over a steaming Saveth. Amused by how something that used to be so big and known to be scary is now just so small and cute. “It is known that Night Lords like to ‘play’ a little bit before coming here. I assume you are here for Dr. Ryker?”

You nod at her question. In some way, not appreciating the name of the doctor. His name just sends a weird feeling through your body, something akin to unease. You’ve seen how he looks at you, how he seems to look bored, but really? You think there is something up with the man. The vibes do not lie, neither does your guts. You don’t think he’s earned the title of the ‘doctor’ for feeling that weird.

“Alright…” The woman pauses and leans down to click at her computer, looking for the appointment that you had set up last night. Her eyes looking through the files before nodding and looking back at you with another smile. “You can go right ahead.”

“Thank you.” You nod at her again, taking the little bug catcher toy with you that was full of a prissy Night Lord in it as you make your way to the back. The woman letting you in with a button behind her desk. Your body automatically knowing where you’re supposed to be going, having done this a process a couple times before because sometimes, they get a little heavy on their attacks to one another. (More accurately Saveth and Sarvak.)

Settling yourself down in a chair near the counter in the room. You put the bug catcher on the counter and carefully undo the plastic things that keep the thing closed, only to have Saveth burst out of it and immediately attack your hands. Growling and snarling at you while you don’t hesitate to attack back, pinning him to the counter and shaking him with your hand. A tiny yowl escaping him as he kicks up at you, now trying to escape your hands. A little laugh escaping you. You’re thankful however, that he knows his strength… somewhat as you know full well that he could break your fingers. At most, he just makes you bleed like a cat would if they caught your hand.

You continue to gently shake him until the Doctor comes in, only then do you stop and let the little guy have some breathing room. Your hands simply resting on the counter as you look over to the Doctor, getting the heebie-jeebies from him. Watching as he settles himself down into a rolling chair with a sigh. Yet, he brought another person with him, a young, male nurse it looks like.

“The marines, ma’am?” The young nurse asks, putting his hand out at you for the marines. Your eyes quickly look him up and down, assessing him. Not trusting him as they never have been so… blunt before, but if you want them to be regular size…

You swipe up Saveth from the counter, not even looking to grasp him in your hands and carefully place the Night Lord into his hands before doing the same with the other three that climbed on your shoulders for comfort. Their forms squeaking out in questioning when you pick them up and place them into the nurses' hands. This wasn’t the usual visit?! What was going on?

“Don’t be alarmed.” Dr. Ryker simply hums, looking at you while you watch the little marines being taken away. Their little confused whirrs and squeaks having you set on edge as you shift in your seat. Hearing them quiet as the door shuts. Now it was just you and the Doctor. “They are simply going through some tests. You did say one of them… grew right?”

You nod at his question, your nerves bundling up inside of you as you play with your hands. Anxious now that you were in a room alone with this man that takes in every detail of you with his sharp eyes. His long legs crossed with a clipboard in his lab, but he’s disinterested in it. His unwavering gaze was set upon you. This… this was certainly strange.

“You’re more… nervous than usual.” Dr. Rykers states, leaning back in his chair, daring to look relaxed while you weren’t. There was something wrong with this man, like he was hiding something classified from you. “Have you gotten any sleepy lately?”

You pause your uneasy thoughts about him for a second at that question, wondering if you should lie or not, but what benefit would it do to you? It’s just a simple, harmless question. Nothing wrong about that.

“Somewhat.” You respond, looking everywhere else besides the Doctor. Neither confirming nor denying what he had asked of you. You’re not sure of him.

“That isn’t a stable answer, darling.” The Doctor slips, or what you hope you think he slips. Your body tensing up at the pet name he had clearly given you. Your fingers just itching to go for the door and book it, but you keep yourself in place. Perhaps, you're just overreacting? You have only met this Doctor like… twice.

“Uh, 5 hours at most.” You spill, tensing more up at what you had just said as you realized you could have just gone for a simple yes or no, but you went for a more detailed answer. Probably hoping for him to get off your back quicker. To get out of his calm, predatory gaze quicker.

Dr. Ryker clicks his tongue at that, folding his arms while you could feel the disappointment running off of him. His head straining up a little before looking back down at you, his bright blue eyes still on you, following you wherever you may go.

“You know you should get at least 7 to 9 hours of sleep.” He tells you after a second of staring you down. Probably feeling superior or something with how straight he’s putting himself out to be. His body never faulting to slump over.

“I know.” You answer him quickly, maybe too quickly with how the Doctor slightly tilts his head to the right. His gaze wandering over your figure. Trying to read you, scan you.

“You… having troubles at home?” He asks another question, your brows rising up in confusion then. Finally looking at him for a second before glancing away. “Any… bad relationships? Bad roommates?”

Why did that question seem so specific when it shouldn’t be? When it was just so simple? Any doctor would have asked that. It was their job however, why was he talking about you when he was supposed to be talking about the Marines? This wasn’t your chosen doctor. This was practically a stranger. A very weird one too.

“No.” You keep your answer short and bold to end the conversation about your health. Your eyes flickering to him on and off, questioning him and his status. How would people love this man if he had brought this vibe with him all the time? Unless it was just with you?

The Doctor simply hums, never moving from his place while he eyes you down. Not even a twitch from him. Acting as if he wasn’t doing anything wrong. That he was just simply sitting there before he spoke up again. “How about work? Is it treating you well?”

What the fuck we’re these questions for? They certainly are not for you as he isn’t your doctor nor is he jolting anything down. He was simply just enjoying how you squirm underneath him, like you were someone below him, but at the same time you felt like you weren’t. It was just all so… weird.

“I’m not here to talk about me.” You say with a low tone, finally standing your ground just a bit. Your eyes staring right back into his, feeling like he pushed too much, and this is what he was getting from you. You can see a brief flash of surprise in them before they turn amused. His body finally shifting as he unfolds his legs, but not his arms.

“Right, your marines.” Dr. Ryker sighs, sounding nearly disgusted by the fact you're bringing them up again. You wouldn’t have caught such a tone if you were being remarkably friendly with this man. If you weren’t so irked by this man. “There is nothing much to talk about them. We have everything we need to make sure we know everything about them.”

Well, that’s not reassuring at all. Why would he ask you questions then? Simply out of boredom? No, that can’t be right. His vibe, his aura says differently…

“Are you bonded?” You ask him out of the blue, watching that flicker of surprise go through him again before he hides it again. His head tilting more to his right than the first time he did. His folded arms shifting on his chest.

“No, why do you ask?” Dr. Ryker tries to question you again, but you just simply nod in response. Now knowing this guy was just a…a creep. It would have made a bit more sense if he was bonded, like to a Thousand Son or another Chaos Marine as their attitudes might affect their bonds as well or it could be simply, he was hanging around his family’s Astartes too much and just gained his cold exterior from them too?

The Doctor tries to speak up again before the door opens up again with the previous nurse coming back in with the Marines back in his hands. The sight of them making you sigh out your tension and relax. Their little forms immediately chirping for you while they try and run off the nurses' hands to get to you. The nurse lightly laughing at their antics, trying to keep them still before they evade him and jump onto you, latching onto your clothing and quickly climbing up to settle onto their assigned spots on your shoulders and collarbone.

“There, all tests are done.” The nurse simply says before exiting the room with a happy nod. The room going almost quiet if it weren’t for the little guys that cuddled up to you. Purring and rubbing all over you like you have been gone for too long, easing your nerves.

“…Then I suppose this concludes this appointment then?” Dr. Ryker says blandly, standing up from his chair with his clipboard in hand. Adjusting himself as he looks down at you: looking down at the marines with a flash of something you can’t process just yet. Jealousy, perhaps?

You nod immediately, wanting out of this room since the start, like Saveth had. Your body already moving for the door as you brush past the doctor, and you could have sworn, sensed that he backed up in surprise, but breathed in too, smelled you. Yeah, you are going to try and restrict your time here as much as you possibly can until they assign a new doctor to the case.

Especially, since the doctor takes that damaged bug catcher into his hands rather than just throwing it away like you should have remembered yourself to do.

[echoing-gravity]

Au where durring reality trip the trio runs into "Dani with and i" (since her premire eposode is techinecly before reality trip this is entirely possible) and she helps them defeat Freakshow.

Danny uses the gauntlet to make his parents think shes ACTUALLY their distant cousin thays been recwntly orphained so that they adopt her. Essentally making her a main cast member thru all of the season 3 storylines.

Jazz is aware of the realitytrip shanangans and is very conflicted about dannys choice to fuck withtheir memories, causing conflict. But shes also very pro dani.

[vigilskept]

Happy Friday! Could I suggest "a kiss underwater" for whoever you feel like writing tonight?

ty for the prompt!! this was really fun to write :) a little cliff jumping filler episode for daveth/salin! is this their first kiss? idk it might be! we’re going off vibes only today 🤙

words: 827 | @dadrunkwriting

The knowledge that Daveth is the one stood right next to her — that he wouldn’t really push her — isn’t quite enough stop from Salin's heart from rising to her throat at the touch of her shoulder.

It takes her a moment to regain confidence in her footing, eyes fixed on the dark waters looming beneath them, before she can turn on him, irritation flaring bright with the force of her fear.

Daveth's grin is entirely unrepentant.

“C’mon,” he cajoles, applying just the faintest bit of pressure. A nudge, not a shove. “It's not going to get any warmer just because you keep glaring at it.”

Salin clamps her hand around his, squeezing tight enough to hurt.

He wouldn’t dare — he wouldn’t — but it gives her a sense of a security to know if she did lose her balance, he’d go over plummeting the edge right along with her.

“I’ll jump,” she grits out, “when I’m ready.”

He’s goading her, she knows, but there’s a hint of real surprise running beneath it too. A disbelieving look in his eye she can’t be sure if she ought to find flattering or humiliating.

“You can’t really be scared of this, can you?”

The icy wind rolling across the lake isn’t much of a balm for the burning of her cheeks.

“I’m not,” she insists. Her voice sounds terribly hoarse. Unconvincing, even to her own ears.

She wishes she could persuade herself not to be afraid.

Death has been licking at their heels since Ostagar. What’s a sharp drop and a dark, icy expanse beneath it?

She can't make sense of it, the way her throat seems to close around itself, her muscles coiled, tense, as though this is something to run from.

Maybe it’s the opaqueness of the depths, the impossibility of knowing just how far down she might find herself sinking. Whether she’ll find rocks or sand or silt when she reaches the bottom. Whether she ought to brace herself for the brush of leafy tendrils against her ankles.

Maybe it’s the height. Maybe it’s the cold.

She is already anticipating just how the wind will bite at her damp skin, the goosebumps following the path of the steady drip of water sliding down the back of her neck from wet hair. Even by the fireside, wrapped in dry clothes, it will take a while to warm herself.

She suspects the cheery exclamations of the Avvar gathered at firepits along the shoreline are inspired more by generous servings of ale than the supposed benefits conferred by this tradition.

At a squeeze of her shoulder, she looks in askance at Daveth, only to find him much closer than she expects. His lips brush against her cheek as she turns her head. She shivers, a little, at the feeling of his stubble scraping faintly against her skin with the proposition.

“Together, eh?”

She’s nodded her assent before she’s drawn her thoughts back together.

Reality catches up to her a moment later, Daveth lifts his hand, only to lace their fingers together, palm pressed to palm.

Wait, she thinks, heart racing.

She only gets as far as drawing air into her lungs before he shoots her a grin. He jumps —

— and the breath that catches in her lungs burns right through her the whole way down, a second, then another, another, the seconds stretching the fall as if it were a whole age between the top of the cliffs to the surface of water until, finally, the shock of cold comes.

It’s like a poorly aimed freezing spell wrapping itself around her, needle sharp all over, eyes snapping shut as it closes around her head.

Whatever is at the bottom, it’s far beneath her even now.

When she feels her descent slow at last, she opens her eyes, but in the depths, it’s shockingly hard to tell up from down. The darkness seems to stretch around forever. She might have wondered if she hadn't somehow fallen into the void instead, had she not been able to follow the line of her arm down to her hand, the sole point of warmth amidst the cold that pierces right to her bones.

There's just enough light to see him clearly, even if the cool glow of the winter sun has been replaced, filtering beneath the water's surface as thin streams of light, dancing across his skin in swirls like ribbons waving in the wind.

He catches her eyes with a smile.

Later, she will blame it on the exhileration, the pounding of her heart after the thrill of the fall, the shock of the cold.

She will venture to put forth every excuse but the truth.

That she found herself at the end of that heart stopping plunge and couldn’t see any reason not to reach out with her other hand, find purchase at the side of his neck. No reason at all not to tug him closer, and press her lips to his.

[falon-fen]

Ok, I’ll bite! Meet my Mournwatcher Rook,Saveth. Did I lean into the dark aesthetic a bit too much? Maybe? Do I care? No. 🤣

[equipo-3-514]

Protecting Our Planet: My Journey in Environmental Conservation

BY ISAAC ISMAEL GARCÍA RAMIREZ

Hello everyone! I’m currently volunteering in the “Clean Oceans Initiative,” an inspiring environmental protection program that focuses on reducing plastic pollution in our oceans. I’m located near the coast, and being part of this initiative fills me with a deep sense of purpose and responsibility. It’s incredibly rewarding to contribute to the protection of marine ecosystems, and I’m proud to be part of this important mission.

The program’s goal is to clean beaches, raise awareness about reducing single-use plastics, and promote sustainable practices to prevent further pollution of our oceans. I believe protecting the environment is essential, and I want to encourage others to take action.

Here are 5 simple recommendations to protect the environment:

1. Reduce Single-Use Plastics: Plastics take centuries to decompose, contributing to pollution. Using reusable items can greatly reduce waste.

2. Recycle Properly: Recycling helps conserve resources and reduces greenhouse gas emissions.

3. Conserve Water: Freshwater is limited. Turning off taps and fixing leaks helps preserve this vital resource.

4. Use Renewable Energy: Switching to renewable energy sources like solar or wind reduces carbon footprints and fights climate change.

5. Participate in Local Cleanups: Taking part in cleanups helps maintain a clean environment and protects wildlife from harmful waste.

Let’s all make an effort to protect our planet for future generations!

[jessiangravelblr]

Multimale - Talking Body

[obtuse-goose]

Steve....craafting table...Thee Overworld...endeeer puuurl...minecraft....BLOcks (metal pipe dropping sfx)...steve...BUCKET...creative survival..elytra..endeeer puurl..WATER BUCKET!..thee overworld...savethe world...flint...and STEEl...the nether...wither...ChicKen JocKEY!!!

[ifiwereacarpenter]

NO FORD YOU DID NOT DO IT!!! YOU DID NOT SAVETHE TOSN GETTTTOFFFFFF OF MY TIMELINE BOY!!!!!!!!!

[morgottbathwater]

Can't you treat me better? ♡

SFW. AO3. Canon typical violence, referenced abuse and neglect, and implied sh. Mohg is struggling to accept Morgott's inertia.

Word count — 638

A/N: I shared this fic with other people and they liked it, with their encouragement I'm sharing this here and on AO3. It's a bit rough around the edges.

────────────────────────────────────────────

The unseemly tranquillity of the Shunning-Grounds was broken by intermittent pleas of prisoners, begging for grace and absolution. Gross sobs punctuated their prayers of surrendering their treacherous faith to the Erdtree, only for their cries to be disciplined till they cease. The twins enjoyed a moment of calm, though the brick walls of the sewers held onto the winter’s cold, they were granted warmed water. Morgott wasn’t enjoying his meal, but he could disregard the taste in exchange of warmth. Mohg listened to the distant holler, now mixed with his brother’s chewing, with the droplets splashing onto the wet floor. 

The ambiance smothered him.

“Brother,” Mohg began, watchful eyes examining a distant pebble. “What is your cause?” 

“Prithee, elaborate,” his brother inquired, throat aching as he swallowed a piece of dry bread.

“Your compliance, your submission, the courtesy you show. Have you no honor?”

“Courtesy to whom?”

“To Father, to the knights who hound us, to the very reason we’re shackled,” Mohg scowled, impatience brewing within. He clamped his hands to fists, fine nails digging holes in his palms. “You truly are cut from the same blood stained cloth.”

“Doth not taketh of Father in vain, for he didst saveth us; grant Father esteem for protecting thee and I.”

“Father buried us in disgrace, to him, we may be bereft of life. He would be none the wiser,” he snarled as he gave his brother a leering look. His chest deflated before it could inflate, each word was spoken with more malice than the last.

Morgott observed his shorter twin. His scalp has traces of dried blood, settled around the bases of his horns. His forearms trembled as he clasped his fists further, his gaze was devoid of emotion; yet he seemed as if he would erupt any given moment. 

“You are a disappointment,” Mohg blurted, he maintained contact with his brother as he continued. “Since the day we were bairns, you have been a mishap. Fooled to believe Mother and Father will grant us grace. You will be omitted from their memory, as will I.”

In a burst, Mohg felt the loose rope around his neck being torn, pressuring his neck. He looked attentively as his mellow brother roused to ire. The rising hostility drove the brother’s further, each crueler with every gash.

Morgott held his brother against the floor, hands grasping wrists and knees pressing against his thighs. He was immobilized; he didn't hope to harm his brother.

“Thou art heedless of our privilege!” 

“Existence is a birthright, and nobility is not!”

Twisting and turning, using every stressed fibre of muscle within his limbs, Mohg gained control. He bore claws into his brother as he collapsed onto him, he was bound underneath Mohg’s weight; stationary and lame. Morgott noted Mohg’s expression, or lack thereof. Despite his volatile upheaval, his sight was blank. His cloudy eyes were fully absent, his ferocious affect was wholly feral.

“Don’t touch me,” Mohg threatened. 

Morgott’s lungs stressed as his wind-pipe compressed, he felt familiar claws tearing skin once more.

“Why is it that Father only favours you? Why are you spared of the consequences when I am not? It isn’t just!” He sniveled, hands becoming slack. “Your aversion and preference, I shoulder our burden.”

Supporting himself with his hand pressing against Morgott’s strained chest, he wandered off without a word. Morgott’s back had become cold as laid motionless on the wet floor, his gaze tied to the ceiling, his growing horns ached as his brother had pushed them to the floor. He was dazed.

────────────────────────────────────────────

Wandering aimlessly in the dark, he had finally spotted Mohg in the corner, legs pressed against his chest and aching wings hugging him. Morgott’s lantern illuminated stains of spritzed blood on the floor. 

“Forgive me, brother,” Mohg murmured. “I don’t know why I’ve become like this.”

[alienthegreenalien]

im going to savethe world [blows the fuck

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐈𝐈𝐈

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: Apologies, a remake of chapter III. Did not like the direction it was going.

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: The mini marines are wanting out of this… Slaanesh house, but worry about you.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

TW // Sex Themes(Moaning), Sleep Deprivation.

|°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| |°ɪᴄʜᴏʀ’ꜱ ᴀᴏ3°| |°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| • {Chapter II} • {Chapter IV}

To work and take care of the Space Marines entrusted in your care is a lot more work than one might realize. There is a lot to it than just trusting everything will be done, fine and dandy, no. You had to make sure the little Space Marine were fed their healthy amount of being smaller than usual. You had to make sure they were always in high places, just in case they got stepped on as some people just don’t know how to look down where they step, and their… the rather high entertainment level is different with each one of them.

Saveth, the little Night Lord (Who gets adorably upset at you for calling him that. Trying to sever your fingers off as you would pin him to a surface with your hand and shake him, a yowl escaping him.) Needs a good fair share of tricks to pull and things to keep his talon-like gauntlets sharp and… ready. He really isn’t the type to sit still for others or himself, he gets rather impatient at times. Something you conclude that he is just a young Scout. Always hungry for a fraction of adrenaline unlike the more experienced ones you have seen around, lurking slowly in the shadows, ready to strike anything that opposes their bond.

Yet, Saveths’ main thing? To annoy Sarvak, his prime victim in many, many of his games, but you know better than to blame a World Eater for a Night Lords actions. Even from the start, it is quite obvious who is doing what and who should be getting the timeout box. Which Saveth has the highest record so far in the box. Something you feel like he takes a challenge to each time he gets put in the dastardly box. Screeching the loudest in his temporary confinement until your constricting heart can’t take it anymore and you pluck him out of the box; letting him rest on top of your head to redeem yourself to him.

Scarab, the tiny and blue Thousand Son needs to have many books in front of him or he gets antsy: restless. He needs to have something to occupy his mind while you are gone without him snuggling into your pockets, seeing the world from a different height and view. He’ll get more and more… worried and fidgety the more hours, minutes and seconds he thinks about you and where you might have gone and done, but he trusts that you return safely to them like you always have.

The little blue always grows agitated however: clawing up the pages his books subconsciously, staring “mindlessly” into some walls and becomes quite the loner after some time left alone, (which you think this little blue maybe a Liberian or an Apothecary depending on his head shakes of disappointment.) Just like Sarvak, but he isn’t as bad as the poor raging ball of red. He keeps his emotions really well maintained compared to the rest of them with him just coming behind Atheloca who comes in first for being the calmest out of all of them. A rarity for a Death Guard to be calmer than him: a Thousand Son of calculated thoughts.

Atheloca, the stink beetle likes to… wander too close to the garbage of your home, maybe, sometimes rummaging in it. Though, it’s nothing too erratic like Saveth or Sarvak, but he just can be a really stinky little dude when he’s getting into areas one would not like to be, and he absolutely avoids hygiene the best he can: slowly dogging your hands the best he can with a low, pleading warble coming out of him.

He doesn’t want a- a bath! It feels weird on his armor! Makes him all sparkly, like he’s preparing to go to a high-end event like a loyal Ultramarine! Yet his attempts to try and persuade you and his bandmates are futile, and he always ends up smelling like a fresh field of flowers after a rather relaxing intoxicating hot bath. He won’t admit it that he’s starting to like your baths you give him, but you do notice the… obedient changes each time you give him one. Which makes you think his position might be one of a battle-brother or of a scout too.

Finally, Sarvak, the blurred ball of raging red, needs something to keep his rage in check and is the most… disruptive one out of the bunch, but he doesn’t mean to! You know he doesn’t mean to absolutely destroy the underside of your couch or scratch at the bottom of your bed and cabinets, it just how the Butcher's Nails affect him, and he usually apologizes after his brief rundown of his session of aggravation: purring and nuzzling into your neck or the palm of your hand with a small, almost whine-like coo coming out of him as you try and reassure him that it’s not anything unfixable, nor important.

However, there are two things that trigger him the most wherever he may go, and one is an already known bandmate: Saveth. Poor Sarvak gets targeted the most by the tiny Night Lord; being picked on by the insufferable creature of the shadows. Always getting teased, and poked by his bandmate, testing his will, and he swears upon Khorne he will show the lower ranking Night Lord “what’s up” (a saying he has learned from Sharons’ whore of her male mates) once he has grown back into the prime of his body. He is not in his full potential in this sickly, smaller form of himself, and that puts him on the edge. He can’t protect himself as easily as he wants to.

The second thing that triggers him the most is of course: The Butcher's Nails, and it doesn’t help that it’s also influenced by his conflicting emotions. It doesn't help that he thinks so much, but at the same time he feels like he thinks so little, it’s frustrating and infuriating. Why can’t he just think clearly for once? Without the pain of the nails digging into his head, obstructing some of the vital thoughts he has? That he needs to think about. Though, with the more logical thinking he does it enrages him even more than what he already was or has been. The only days (or hours) when he was able to think is when he was with you, his… caretaker? Protector? Serf? He is unsure of what you are to him, but he knows he wouldn’t mind you being his serf. Your presence is more… welcoming and calming of that of the brat of a Night Lord.

Speaking of your presence, he can smell your scent before you have even reached the front door of the house. The keys to the house juggling the dead-bolt lock on the door, making Saveth crawl out from his spot from hiding underneath a decorative pillow on the long sofa and up on the back of it with him. Curious and eager for your return, and the rest of them cannot lie, they also have been absolutely praying and swearing for your return like a Word Bearer or a Black Templar for a damn morning prayer. They all had enough of this… unnatural screeching and thumping coming from Sharons’ selection of the nest.

Don’t get them wrong, they know what she is doing up in there. That part is pretty obvious, but they haven’t expected her to be so loud about it and sound like a high-pitched Tyranid being fucked itself. It’s definitely a haunting noise they would hear for a long period of time, and they really wished they hadn’t. It was so foul, they have even thought about destroying their eardrums just enough so they could regenerate, but they didn’t want you to get in trouble for their insolence. You’re the only one that has their trust the most and could save them from this… house of Slaanesh.

A sigh escapes you as you finally open the front door and close it behind you. Your hand throwing your keys on top of a small, end table near the door as you prepare yourself to take off your shoes. Your hand stabilizing yourself on the corridor wall as you grunt to untie your shoes first, Scarab and Atheloca climbing up the back of the sofa to join him as well to look at you through the dark.

You seem more… shakier than usual. Your hand vibrates as you pull off your first shoe before switching your balance to get your other one. Which you also had trouble trying to stabilize yourself on just your own two feet, and this worries the group about your own health. They cannot have someone whom they trust to be so… vulnerable just like them, especially in this house of ungodly horrors. It just doesn’t feel right.

Saveth attempts to call for your attention. All of them watching as you pause for a second, slowly processing who was calling for you over the sound of pleasured? screeching. The silhouette of your head tilting, questioning what that sound was before you even recognized the little Night Lords call.

“Saveth?” You call back, the form of your body straightening back up, standing on your two feet as you make your way into the living room. Another call leaving Saveth, trying to direct you more through the dark with just his voice and chips before you… apologize to them? Mumbling your words before you just snatch them up in your arms, and take them away to your room?

Your sudden actions definitely have them confused, but they are not complaining about it, just more curious, worried and surprisingly calm about being unwillingly grabbed and being smacked together in your arms. Your presence brings them a certain relaxation to them, but they still can’t help but to be worried about you. You usually never mumble your words or just boldly pick them up. You were mostly kind to them and asked for their consent beforehand, only needing to be more daring to put them in a “timeout box” when they became more… aggressive.

They shift in your arms when you just plot yourself down onto your bed and lean to your side with a bounce as you don’t even bother to change into anything else. Your nose nuzzling into your pillow while you curl around them with your body the best you could. Your fingers subconsciously petting at their armor as they make cute, little confusing sounds up at you. Trying to gain your attention, but it seems you just don’t have enough energy to move besides slowly stroking at them with a finger.

They definitely didn’t take this sudden… depletion in your energy lightly. It has them worried and a bit angry at whatever is taking your energy away from you. They want you to be aware of what’s happening around you, not to be a mindless zombie, and to be taken advantage of. That doesn’t sit right with them, and they want to talk to you about it, but you can’t understand them in this… miniature form. They only sound they make are like little chicks or baby bats squeaking up at you (or so they are informed.) So, they will have to painstakingly come up with a different solution to help you in some way, but for now, they shall take comfort in your aura, and rest closely with you. The sound of your beating heart gratefully overthrowing the horrible screeching of the fighting Slaanesh-Tyranid humanoid from the room above as they can finally get some trusty sleep themselves.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Trust in the Name of the Lord Our God

1 The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble; the name of the God of Jacob defend thee;

2 Send thee help from the sanctuary, and strengthen thee out of Zion;

3 Remember all thy offerings, and accept thy burnt sacrifice; Selah.

4 Grant thee according to thine own heart, and fulfil all thy counsel.

5 We will rejoice in thy salvation, and in the name of our God we will set up our banners: the Lord fulfil all thy petitions.

6 Now know I that the Lord saveth his anointed; he will hear him from his holy heaven with the saving strength of his right hand.

7 Some trust in chariots, and some in horses: but we will remember the name of the Lord our God.

8 They are brought down and fallen: but we are risen, and stand upright.

9 Save, Lord: let the king hear us when we call. — Psalm 20 | King James Version (KJV) The King James Version Bible is in the public domain. Cross References: Deuteronomy 17:16; Deuteronomy 20:1; 1 Samuel 1:17; 1 Chronicles 5:20; Psalm 3:4; Psalm 3:7; Psalm 9:14; Psalm 17:6; Psalm 21:2; Psalm 21:5; Psalm 46:7; Psalm 46:11; Psalm 110:2; Psalm 138:7; Psalm 145:19; Isaiah 58:9; Micah 7:8; Acts 10:4

Psalm 20 by Charles H. Spurgeon

[tanoraqui]

Be he foe or friend, be she foul or clean, brood of Anti or bright Staff, Elda or Maia or Aftercomer, Man yet unborn upon Middle-earth, neither law, nor love, nor league of swords, dread nor danger, not Blocking itself, shall defend him from Fëanor, and Fëanor's kin, whoso liketh or rebloggeth, or in file saveth, finding shareth or afar queueth a Silmaril. This swear we all: boops we will deal them ere Day's ending, booping unto world's end! Our word hear thou, David Karp Allfather! To the everlasting Cancellation doom us if our deed faileth. On the holy mountain hear in witness and our vow remember, Manwë and Varda!

[orthodoxadventure]

A Prayer to Our Lord Jesus Christ

O my plenteously-merciful and all-merciful God, Lord Jesus Christ, through Thy great love Thou didst come down and become incarnate so that Thou mightest save all. And again, O Saviour, save me by Thy grace, I pray Thee. For if Thou shouldst save me for my works, this would not be grace or a gift, but rather a duty; yea, Thou Who art great in compassion and ineffable in mercy. For he that believeth in Me, Thou hast said, O my Christ, shall live and never see death. If, then, faith in Thee saveth the desperate, behold, I believe, save me, for Thou art my God and Creator. Let faith instead of works be imputed to me, O my God, for Thou wilt find no works which could justify me. But may my faith suffice instead of all works, may it answer for, may it acquit me, may it make me a partaker of Thine eternal glory. And let Satan not seize me and boast, O Word, that he hath torn me from Thy hand and fold. But whether I desire it or not, save me, O Christ my Saviour, forestall me quickly, quickly, for I perish. Thou art my God from my mother's womb. Vouchsafe me, O Lord, to love Thee now as fervently as I once loved sin itself, and also to work for Thee without idleness, diligently, as I worked before for deceptive Satan. But supremely shall I work for Thee, my Lord and God, Jesus Christ, all the days of my life, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

[medievaliana]

The Jewel of the Sun

Chapter IV: Visions

Author's note: 1. Drink water every time I wrote 'shall' but its tuff, no???... 2. THIS CHAPTER WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE FBJSVSKSSBJ!!! I'm sososossoooo happy with how it came out <333 I CAN'T EXPLAIN MY HYPERFIXATION ON MEDIEVAL MYSTICISM / MYSTIC WOMEN, RELIGIOUS IMAGERY AND AND AND!!!! so I had so much fun writing this cause omg I just loveee learning about visions and so many more things!!! I really hope it was an interesting read!!!! <333 3. I just want to clear out some things about Uirin so let's return to mysticism! I hope it was clear that Uirin's role in society is not exactly the same as a nun's. I'd say its more like a beguine's! Its more of an oath given to yourself to follow the teachings of God, help the community, while not being restricting your life as much (a.k.a. you don't have to give a wow to the church to never marry / stay virgin, as this community gave women the authonomy to move out of this status once finding a husband orrrr if she wished to become a nun!). I also loved listening about the visions that medieval women had and how different they were, so I reeaaalllyyy wanted to present Uirin as not onlyyy a sorceress but also a mystic and who needs faith in her life! Hope it was clear though haha! Chapter summary: Visions. Mysticism and prayers! Nature speaks a clear warning about the awaiting terror, and Uirin receives a vision from the One about her fate, wondering if it will be fulfilled or not. Tropes: slow-burn romance, mild enemies-to-lowers, mutual pining, ocxcanon, hurt/comfort. Word count: 5496 Tags: @ilovedainironfoot @ravenettesblog Link to AO3 Previous chapter | Next chapter

PREVIEW:

Time! Time hath come to take heed to the clouds of sorrow and reserve strength to counter death. Use thyself for greater good; oh, use thyself only for the name of all that is holy! Holy are mine words, and holy is the life thou wert given. Save thyself from the approaching evil, save thy neighbour, save thy land, save mine earth, or surrender to doom!

A month has passed after the fateful meeting of all races and realms of Middle-earth. It was the end of November, and winter crept its feet upon the immortal lands of Rivendell, yet autumn fought until its last breath. The gold of autumn exchanged with the bluntness of winter: the leaves rotted into the colours of bile and the severely decomposed bodies; nature became mute, afraid to let out an innocent sound, as all life sheltered away from the lethal iciness; darkness covered a black veil over the face of the earth, which grew thicker and thicker by each day. The sun hid behind the clouds as if they were curtains, and it only fuelled the might of Middle-earth’s foes. The symbolism of altering seasons brought only worry to many lands, as nature sent a missive of the foes intentions, but to those in Rivendell, this imagery of inevitable stillness would only provide comfort. Though Rivendell was a heavenly sanctuary, and nature was restrained by the firm grip of the elves, it could not be tamed completely. It spoke of a prophecy so disturbing that the ravens, flying circles over the heads of all lands, shrieked a cold warning to those who could still hear the voice of nature. Even the chains of godly entities could not contain the terrifying voices of the birds of death:

“Hearken! Oh, hearken to mine spirit! Oh, hearken, my children; hearken to my call!

Peril! Peril is looming over all that lives! All that breathes shall be assailed by the maleficent! All shall perish in eternal anguish, and the flames of Mordor shall be the hell once prophesied! Shelter thyself from the darkness; shelter thyself until the light triumphs in the bloodshed ‘gainst the shadows! Nature provideth housing for those in agony, yet from tragedy—saveth thee it cannot! From ashes emerges life, and to ashes life shall return, for birth and death dance in the wheel of fate, yet these ashes belong not to the cycle of ethereal fortune, for darkness shall take the ashes to forge greater champions.

And ashes of the purest hearts shall be the soil, and it shall bear the unimaginable terrors of darkness.

And the blood of the innocent shall water those terrors.

And the fiery pits shall provide relaxation to their ruth, and they shall quaff it as the tastiest nectar.

And the grey dust of the remains of the earth shall bring joy to the kindred of our foes.

And their poisonous weapons shall be furbished with the tears of the elves.

And the rotting bodies of our allies on top of spears shall serve as decors to the folk of gloom.

And darkness shall be announced as the newly sun, and it shall nurture the warriors of destruction.

And destruction shall be their prayer, and their chant shall be the symbol of a new age.

And those who ache shall become slaves, and they shall cultivate the land of the dead so the new race could thrive.

And those of the wisest shall become the servants of the Dark Lord, and they shall bestow the knowledge of the eldest beings of Middle-earth to Mordor.

And those of the strongest shall be torn apart, and from their bones shall feast the lionhearts of the newly risen lineage.

And victorious shall be the champions of darkness and the leader of their army, the Dark Lord—Sauron!

And my voice shall be silenced, and my voice shall be tamed, and my voice shall be hidden from the sight of the horror my children are compelled to endure, for my hands are bound by the will of the mightier forces.

Gods shall silence me, gods shall abandon the earth, and anguish shall become the only comforter to mine suffering kindred.

Yet mine belief shaketh the mountains and riseth the depths of the seas and breaketh all surfaces—fields, greenwoods: triumph is in thy hands; I do verily uphold it as the only truth. Woe shall befall us all, but fret not—for fret shall bring doom over all! Use thy hands and use thy heart, and use thy spirit, and use thy mind; only then will the powers of evil vanish from the face of the earth.

Time! Time hath come to take heed to the clouds of sorrow and reserve strength to counter death. Use thyself for greater good; oh, use thyself only for the name of all that is holy! Holy are mine words, and holy is the life thou wert given. Save thyself from the approaching evil, save thy neighbour, save thy land, save mine earth, or surrender to doom!”

✹

It was midday when it happened.

Dusk had already set foot in the cloudy sky, which promised more rain or perhaps the first snowflakes.

Uirin knelt on the soft dark wooden floor in front of her bedside, allowing the extinguished rays of the sun to enter her chamber through the glass. Her eyelids sealed the light away from the sight, and her head narrowed towards the ground as she fell into deep focus for duty. Her lips barely moved while whispering a hot prayer to her lord—Eru Ilúvatar—the One, the creator of existence, and the supreme entity among all. The prime creator of her being and her source of strength when life becomes impossible to bear. Her cool and cracked hands gently held onto one another, resting near her heart, as she felt delight in this simple act: a simple prayer and thankfulness expressed to her beloved god. That bliss washed over her soul, as if she had cleansed herself in the purest stream and provided relief from inner flames that boiled her blood with a variety of emotions. This daily ritual turned down the dreadful voices in her head along with all of her worries or the weariness she felt after straining herself until her bones ached. A prayer healed her soul and was the greatest remedy for the pain she tolerated not only spiritually but also physically. A prayer was not limited to only removing despair—it was a part of her routine (as she indeed prayed three times a day, if she only could). A prayer served as an act of balancing the state of mentality, gathering her thoughts, and recollecting herself before the day had begun or after it had passed. A prayer was a way of experiencing greater feelings than those given to a mere mortal—greater than lust, romantic love, wealth, abundance, prosperity—as she deemed those virtues contrasting with her life, whose purpose was to solely submit to her lord and those in need, regardless of race or social status. A prayer was more than life, as she gifted it to the suffering and to those she met along her path, begging to be remembered in her chants. A prayer kept her alive this far, and without it, she would have fallen to madness or despair. And devotion burnt deeply within her heart as she knelt even in the darkest woods or dirtiest roads of the poorest regions, offering her honest appreciation—a prayer—to the almighty creator. It was an act of gratitude for the life that was blessed upon her—an extraordinary life, overflowing with knowledge, purpose, and might that perhaps would be unattainable for a scant woman of Gondor.

Nay, Uirin was no saint, yet she firmly believed that her life was meant for that path and that her desires should be ignored and, later on, given as an offering to Eru Ilúvatar.

Even if there were any desires in the depths of her mind, Uirin only afforded to spit on those earthly distractions and walk away with only burning passion for the One.

Or so she thought.

Now the prayer stood as a saviour against the dwelling fear of the future—the fear of Gandalf’s predictions of his fortune and many more. It took her mind into something grander than her anxiety and caused her mind to drift away into the complexity of Eru Ilúvatar and his presence. It made her head lighter from the thoughts that weighed it down with sorrow.

However, at that very moment, something so peculiar happened.

So unthinkable to her mortal mind.

So powerful, otherworldly.

So striking and unexpected.

A sharp pang shot in Uirin’s head, causing her to flinch in response.

‘A migraine,’ thought Uirin. ‘Worse than a headache, the pain appeared on one side of the head, throbbing immensely. Fatigue and nausea, an effect that follows this condition.’ 

Yet, an invisible force of grace lifted Uirin’s head by the chin and eagerly invited her to glance at the dark heavens outside the window. Strange it was—not a symptom of a migraine, yet so curious! She obeyed the orders, even if nobody could hear the instructions or see the commander beseeching them. It only spoke to her, so clearly, purely to her heart; she could sense it pulling the strings of her soul. It was an unexplainable feeling, an instinct, which was rooted deeply in her senses and in her body, leaving the only option: to follow the higher force that flowed within or through her. It was a feeling so powerful that it turned the insides of her stomach and made her shiver from anticipation of what will come after. And she experienced wonder, and she experienced excitement, and she experienced reverent fear. To a sane mind, her current state would be considered as somewhat mad, but to the enlightened—grace. The power that flowed within her was grand, for only mystics could comprehend what she had gone through.

As Uirin opened her eyes, the brightest rays of the sun greeted her. Painful was that greeting, as her pupils tried to withstand the damaging effect of the sun, but it was different this time. This was no ordinary instance, not even logically understandable. The blinding sunlight did not hurt her eyesight as much as it should, as if something, or someone, was blocking it and preventing the harm it could do. This moment was gifted to her: beholding the beauty of the flaming light of rays that were carefully caressing her face with the highest form of love. That love was given by someone powerful, someone unimaginable.

Uirin gasped audibly, and her skin formed goosebumps.

A vision struck her whole.

Uirin’s breath quickened by every passing moment, and her eyes fluttered as she beheld what was given exclusively to her—holy, sacred, incomprehensible feeling to the critical mind. Stars formed in her eyes as the universe unfolded before her; chest tightened and body spiked upwards, though still kneeling, as all of her senses were overwhelmed by the gentle touches of the supreme force. She experienced the universe passing right through her—she became a channel through which flew wisdom and love.

The sun shone even brighter as Uirin’s pants grew louder, the experience exhausting her visibly with each passing second. To its rays, she slowly extended her hand, attempting to touch that source of the warming blaze with the tips of her shaking fingers. The corners of her lips nudged upwards, pupils dilating as she grew closer and closer to her goal. Her body shuddered with both ecstasy and anxiety, as she was about to reach that manifestation of the vision with her fingertips; it was orgasmic—so pleasurable spiritually and mentally that even the physical being wished to give in to that delish. She felt her body as it was: only a bare suit for her eternal soul, yet a divine creation of the all-knowing, all-powerful source of existence. The divine knowledge coursed through her veins, filling her blood with the essence of sagacity of the long-lost ages.

It was ethereal.

It was holy.

It was sacred.

However, bliss swiftly turned into a nightmare. The sun sheltered behind the gloom, hiding the evidence of her mystical height.

Uirin’s skin grew pale, eyes widening and watering at the sight of her possession abandoning her sight. She looked around frantically, glancing at her surroundings and searching for something comforting or at least familiar in that loneliness. Still—mentally she was not in her chamber; she was elsewhere—floating in a mysterious area, shielded from the gaze of others. Yet, that place brought terror to the features of her face: deepening wrinkles; mouth turning to a gaping cavity as she panicked and desperately gasped; nostrils spreading to bring more air to the collapsing lungs; eyebrows twitching from the unfolding horror.

Then Uirin crumpled on the floor with a loud thud.

A gut-wrenching shriek escaped her throat, as if something committed an assault on her essence. Her hands desperately grasping the heavens that were too far to reach. Capillaries bursting in her eyes. Cold sweat rolling down her face. She shouted, yelled, cried, and wailed in search of help for her suffering, rolling on the floor from one side to the other. Her body convulsed from pain and sorrow and grief and many other emotions that she could not name. Agony contrasted with the spiritual elation that lingered within her only minutes ago. Agony drenched the clothing of the spirit—the body—and used it in its will, allowing it to tolerate the pain it had to put up with. Agony darkened her eyes, forcing her pupils to shrink into tiny bits and seek for something as holy as experienced before.

A gust opened the window, almost breaking the glass as it smashed against the wall with mighty force. The rush of fresh air aggressively tugged at Uirin’s veil, attempting to blow it away from her hair. It pushed her convulsing body as if it were a withered rose in the middle of a plain field.

Terrible was the grief of losing the light from her eyes, and terrible was the feeling of abandonment when the grace of eternity emptied her chest.

It was maddening.

It was terrifying.

It was agonising.

All alone in the pleasure and pain.

Once the vision faded from her eyes, like a mist in the morning, she passed out and laid on the ground with hot tears streaming down her pale cheeks.

✹

Midnight.

The residents of Rivendell fell into deep slumber at that hour. The sky was pitch black, restricting the brightest objects of the night from disturbing the solitude of the darkness. It seemed that the whole world hid under the blankets and surrendered to the land of dreams.

However, only a few beings remained awake in the Hall of Fire. Quietness was unusual, as elves constantly rang wondrous tunes in this hall, but at this hour—stillness ought to be expected.

The warmth of the blazing fireplace brought relaxation to Uirin, who was slightly shaking from the previous experience. She sat on a burgundy velvet chair near the huge flames that were desperately reaching for receptive surfaces. A heavy lilac woollen plaid clung onto her shoulders that were weighted down by a burden. Her blue linen dress was severely wrinkled—evidence of her suffering. Weariness was more than apparent in her face: her eye bags were stained with a blueish tint; skin as pale as if she were a newly corpse; dried tears on her recessed cheeks. She slouched, bluntly staring at her knees. Even if it was the middle of the night and even if she was truly tired, she felt eager to stay awake, as hot blood coursed through her veins, keeping her steady once she will lament of what had happened.

Lord Elrond stood before her, judging the situation by only facing the victim directly, with arms crossed on his chest. The golden flames played in his hair gracefully and gleamed in his eyes like ambers. A frown gave him a stoic manner. He opened his mouth to speak carefully with the one that underwent chaos throughout the day. “Uirin, I beseech, do reveal the cause of your cries amidst the day. Troubled was I when a shriek struck Rivendell out of fain so unforeseen…”

“Do tell,” agreed Gandalf. He knelt beside Uirin so he could see the shining emotions in the depths of her eyes. His hand gently caressed hers, offering comfort for the distraught.

A heavy sigh left Uirin’s lips. She shakily grasped her forehead, rubbing the popped-out veins so they would pulse less aggressively, as she tried to recall those moments. Then she finally lifted her eyes towards both Elrond and Gandalf, glancing at one and then at the other. “Forgive me for the concern I brought upon you, yet I contain a reasoning to mine despair.”

“I do await an exposition,” replied Elrond.

Uirin nodded to both and inhaled sharply as the memories unfolded. “I received a vision.”

“A vision?” asked Gandalf, surprise hinting in his voice.

“A vision, indeed.”

“Speak of it, prithee,” Elrond demanded, bringing a finger to his lips in curiosity.

“I was devoted to a prayer, as I mostly do. Amidst prays a puissant essence invaded mine body, compelling me to obey the dictates of an unseen, unheard superior force… Your mind would struggle in vain, for impossible it is to fathom such an experience. I obligated its utterances: mine gaze wandered towards the bright rays of the sun, and… thereon, I beheld it. I beheld the grace of mine Lord! Mine Lord, all-mighty, all-foreseeing! The One!” She gasped as the memories flowed one by one, ignoring the shock that the two listeners endured. “He revealed a paradise so ethereal and futile to one’s visionary! I felt as if I stood in a realm of our earth, yet I ware—the boon I perceived was too unearthly to comprehend! Fields of gold, fertile withal fruit… Sky as pure as the milk, yet no gloom could veil it… Stars gleaming, fair as the Silmarils! I stood in the brightest luminescence mine eyes e’er witnessed. Painless was it—not as the brightness of the sunlight, but greater, curing all heartache, all illnesses. The glow of prosperity, the glow of justice, the glow of abundance, the glow of pure love! And I beheld a white hill afore of mine eyesight, bearing a high palace at its summit… Nay, no palace it was… Rather an entity, a godly form of even brighter light than that which surrounded me. Forgive me, for mine utterances cannot convey—”

“How could one mistake a godly entity for a palace?” asked Elrond, his eyebrows bringing each other even closer, creating deeper wrinkles of tension around his eyes.

“For it is told that Eru Ilúvatar beareth no true appearance, my Lord. One may sayeth that it is unfeasible to frame a bodily image to his being; wherefore, belike he would appear even as an object to the witness,” interfered Gandalf. “But do continue, my dear.”

“And to that source of light, feet carried mine spirit aloft. Each step I took towards the summit of that very hill, greater delight seizeth mine senses. Oh… I cannot convey that feeling fittingly! That feeling of intense affection, intense gratitude, intense merriment, intense pleasure… Bliss. And most graceful flowers bloomed on that fair hill, their petals white as the sea pearls, adorning the stairs that led up that hill, blossoms petite as the butterflies… Mine essence dreadeth, for mine abilities limit the evocation of the beauty I beheld! The light, which radiated from the One, cleansed mine spirit—away from the toils of mortal life. Oh, so near was I to Him! So near! And the perfection that I witnessed I cannot expound, oh, I cannot!” cried Uirin, beating her free hand to the heart. “Mine fingers stretched to the One, and even He, Himself, proffered His hand to me! So close was I! But…”

“Anon?” Gandalf asked quietly, tilting his head to her side, impatient to hear the rest.

“Anon…” Uirin carried on, her voice growing as the memories emerged with fear. “Anon the light faded and the blossoms withered withal every step taken. Essentially, I paid no heed to the doom of mine surroundings, for all of mine gaze was offered to the One. Yet, once my eyes glanced to the sides, the view shooketh mine core: the coldness bit mine skin, the wind attempted to push me; the withered blossoms decayed and fell onto the soil, streams of blood trailed down the stairs, and darkness tooketh over the ethereal lands, but my Lord gleamed as the brightest star among the night. Terror seized mine heart after bearing such a contrast of the holy fields, and so, I ran! Upwards mine feet carried me withal faith to plunge into the embrace of my sole Lord. Yet from the blood that not only streamed but also later flowed, the stairs were slippery and arduous it was for me to climb them! Darkness overwhelmed the realm wholly, yet the One shone as the guiding star. Our fingertips were only an inch apart, barely touching when, alas…”

A dreadful pause. Uirin gulped the saliva down her throat as it became suffocating to speak of the immense hopelessness she put up with and inhaled sharply. Gandalf and Elrond blinked at her a couple of times, as if begging her to continue.

“Forthwith, the ground swallowed me whence I stood. Darkness besieged me. I fell into the abyss for all eternity. I cried, yet the One only beheld mine demise. He faded from mine gaze. Terrifying it was! Wretched I felt… The pitch-black pit bore no end, and I ne’er reached its floor. As I descended deeper into that void, mine sanity crippled, and I forgot whom I was, whence I were, what transpired. There were beastly roars of horror, screams of people, blood dripping onto mine attire, the reek of rotting flesh and old blood clots, screeches of demonic steeds filled mine ears… Even so, I reached no end to the darkness, falling only deeper and deeper… Arms wrapped around mine being, stripping off mine apparel and attempting to unveil mine head. I fought ‘gainst those hands, ripping their fingers and biting flesh, doing everything in mine might to gain freedom and protect mine dignity, mine pledge to Eru Ilúvatar.” She stopped for a moment again, thought deeply, and soon enough continued. Even her face bore signs of confusion. “Afterwards… I… I fell asleep. I cannot recall the ending of mine vision. Dread took over me—yes, yet I remember not of a truly devastating end.”

Gandalf and Elrond stared at each other for quite some time, perchance discussing almost telepathically the meaning of Uirin’s vision. However, even in their stoic faces were glimpses of concern, as the mystic vision did warn them of a terrible future.

“A voice…” she called out again.

“A voice of Eru Ilúvatar, I suppose?” asked Elrond, a finger tapping on his bottom lip in thought.

“Nay, not a voice of His… I sense it… It was a voice of a man, distorted; however, who he was—I know not. Yet so familiar, it rings so vividly and loudly! I cannot wrap mine finger around it…” Her eyes wandered into nothingness. “He called mine name a few times as I fell into darkness… Uirin, Uirin, Uirin! He repeated. A voice filled with despair… Curious, is it?”

“Perchance a voice of those who were in pain…” Elrond remarked.

Gandalf covered his face with an unoccupied hand, while the other caressed Uirin. “All in all, we are in grave peril.” ‘Twas the only words that Gandalf could say at that very moment.

“Future beholds many terrors ere us,” agreed Elrond with a frown, not leaving his graceful expression.

Uirin turned to Gandalf, her eyelids lowering with regret. “I do hold faith that this vision toldeth of mine tale… Mayhap wise it would be if I were to abandon the quest thou wishest for me to accompany—”

“Nay, Uirin, be not foolish,” interrupted Gandalf, almost angrily. “Peril looms not only above thy head; be not purblind—“

“Gandalf, I perceived myself in that vision, not people, but myself! I was falling into the abyss, not others. Darkness fell upon me, not upon thee or Lord Elrond, or any other being!” Uirin raised her voice slightly, feeling her chest tightening with each spoken word. “It was my doom. I fear that my god attempted to give a missive of mine fortune. I feel it with mine heart. I dread it verily to be the truth.“

“A clear gardyloo to all Middle-earth quoth Eru Ilúvatar. Time hath arrived to embark upon action.” Gandalf dismissed her anxiety and shifted his attention to Elrond.

“Disregard not mine fie, for worry wearieth me!” Uirin interrupted clearly, though her breath was shaking. “Hearken to mine utterances, for I was the one perceiving mine doom to darkness. I fear, if I accompany thee, Gandalf, mine vision shall fulfil itself! I may fold into the hands of the Dark Lord, and then malice shall swallow me as the endless hollow. And blood of the innocent I shall shed, and all will rot at the touch of mine healing fingers, and terror I shall sow upon the realms of Middle-earth! Eru Ilúvatar bestowed a vision upon me as a threat, a prophecy that may be unfulfilled or mayhap fulfilled! Lord Elrond, pray, share wisdom, your insight of this vision!”

“I may only ponder upon the vision you beheld, Uirin, yet I shall side withal Gandalf: Eru Ilúvatar spoketh through your spirit not merely to forewarn you, but all of Middle-earth. I deny not the claim that this vision portrayed your fate, or the possibility of your descent to darkness, yet I do believe that it may represent all of us. Forsooth, not even I am immune to the possession of the Dark Lord,” replied Elrond, nodding his head to Gandalf.

“If I may, Lord Elrond,” added Gandalf, shifting his attention to Uirin and staring at her with softness in his grey eyes but a strict tone. “Fret not, for thou wouldst be shielded from all wickedness. Thou wouldst be alongside me, and if, truly, darkness were to abduct thee, I would acknowledge whence to seek their lair. Yet I hold faith that thou wouldst fight eagerly the eynes of evil.”

“Then Gandalf, do tell, what deed wouldst thou take upon if thou wert to pass?” asked Uirin, piercing him through with seriousness in her gaze. Her tone was calm, but her tongue was sharp. She trusted his words, but the possible future—she could not. “Rescue me from the wicked? How? How, I must ask?”

“Then I…” Gandalf started but suddenly paused. He opened his mouth to speak once more, but it was hard to think of a convincing reply once caught in the moment. What a clever woman. Clever woman indeed, he thought. “Do trust me, for ne’er could I abandon thee at grave peril.”

“Sorely?” Uirin lifted an eyebrow, though her facial muscles tensed at such a poor response. “Rise from the dead, mayhap? Even if thy body would turn to ashes?”

“If I had to, I would!” Gandalf raised his voice, feeling agitated by the sarcasm in her tone. He only squeezed her hand tighter. “Doubt me not, mine foolish pupil! Promise I gave, and that promise I shall be truthful to!”

Uirin glared at him, yet her tongue bit him with its coolness. “And what shall Gandalf the Grey commit if his foolish pupil would plan an assault, if indeed the darkness corrupted her heart amid the task?”

“Silence,” Elrond said firmly.

“How darest thou to speak withal such tone! How darest thou to speak of such a horrific prophecy!” Gandalf ignored Elrond, only yelling a reply to Uirin’s words. He grew pale, squeezing his lips until they became white, for considering that situation caused him only strange fear. Horror gripped his heart utterly, as the only option in such a case was to betray himself. No, not to betray Middle-earth, for he would do all in his might to protect it, but himself, his heart, he would betray. He could not say what he would do, for it would terrify him—

“Silence, I said!” Elrond shouted at both, and it made them turn their serious faces to him. “Both of you are arguing as kindred! Shame for such wise sorcerers to be so childish—a wasted potent for others whom possess the true traits of a sorcerer! Bear this shame in your hearts and in your minds; remember it till death! Enough, I beseech; you care too deeply for one’s fortune, a cursed dynamic twixt an immortal mentor and his mortal pupil! One is considering looming death, and the other of becoming a servant of darkness! ‘Tis hard to distinguish whether your utterances are of comedy or rather of tragedy… Fools! Wise fools! Enow withal this fudge! Tiresome is mine fate indeed…”

Silence stood between the three, and only the flames of the fireplace encouraged them to speak further. Gandalf let go of Uirin and rubbed his eyes with both of his rough hands, feeling fatigue defeating him slowly. Uirin only afforded to stare at her own knees, lost within herself. Elrond sighed deeply and massaged his temples, trying to calm himself down between the deep thoughts of Uirin’s vision, the subtle mention of Gandalf’s ill fortune, the dangerous future, and now—an argument between two stubborn sorcerers. He turned to the fireplace with hands behind his back and watched it blaze, waiting patiently for the two of them to settle in their raging emotions and finally talk to each other properly.

Uirin was the first one to tear the silence. She sighed. “Very well, I shall walk along withal thee even to mine doom.”

“Uirin, prithee…” replied Gandalf with a soothing voice, obviously regretting his previous temperament.

“Nay, Gandalf, I shall accompany thee as I did for many years,” interrupted Uirin, lowering her head to his level so he could see her eyes clearly. “Even to the pits of Mordor. I shall be by thy side, as thou wert by mine.”

Gandalf only smiled, as he could not run from her firm gaze. “And I shall shield thy mind from the darkness. Do trust mine promise.”

“Alas, the sorcerers found a solution to their problem; love triumphs once more!” spoke Elrond with sarcasm while clapping his hands. He faced them again and exhaled. “Continuing… Forsooth, indeed, action must be taken to avoid the fulfilment of Uirin’s prophecy; however, we cannot do such a thing as of now.”

“Wherefore?” asked Uirin. Her heart was still unsure of Gandalf’s confidence and Elrond’s inferences, yet she thought that perhaps it would be for the best to trust their foresight.

“For our scouts have not returned withal tidings from all lands of Middle-earth. We are yet dwelling in uncertainty of the current situation anent our foes and our allies. Howbeit, all is well, yet I uphold a strong belief that all shall erelong perish; hence, time is limited to our welfare. ‘Tis utterly arduous to distinguish which motives should we focus on. Yet it is important to recon which lands are safe for passage, as our foe’s might is undoubtedly vast and his power may reach the most unsuspected corners of the earth. Not to forget, we must know for clarity whether our allies are still our allies, which territories have succumbed to the Dark Lord… For such matter, we shall contrive maps for the sake of our sanity. Verily, I deem it unwise to waste our time and resources on endeavours that may not guarantee us pure succour. Therefore, we must take action accordingly and do nothing but dwell in the wait.”

“Righteous you are, Lord Elrond,” agreed Gandalf, nodding his grey head. “For our nearing endeavour, we must know all of our Middle-earth.”

“If I may enquire,” interrupted Uirin, while looking at Gandalf and feeling nervousness lingering in the depths of her heart. “What is our upcoming endeavour?”

“Nothing of certain. I yet consider which path to take, as I do perceive myself in various quests.”

“As I mentioned, Uirin,” called out Elrond, catching her attention again. “It is hard to distinguish what is the wisest for the moment. We must await the missives of our scouts, and then the both of you shall decide to whom it is worth rendering your services.”

“You are aright, my Lord,” said Uirin while nodding her head. Weariness finally defeated her, and she felt dizzy, her head spinning in a circle.

“My dear, I believe it is time for thee to rest,” said Gandalf.

“Rest, Uirin,” said Elrond.

Gandalf helped Uirin to stand up on her feet and walked her outside to the cold night while holding her hand and leading her forward. Then Gandalf left her to return to her chamber by herself and gently squeezed her shoulder, smiling at her only lovingly, as a father would to a child who bruised their knee. “May only the sweetest slumber take over thee. Rest well, my dear, rest well.”

Uirin indeed slept awfully well after such an exhausting day, even dedicating a tiresome and short prayer to Eru Ilúvatar, expressing gratitude for his wisdom. However, HGandalf came back to the Hall of Fire and discussed something for a while with Elrond.