#whither you go may you find light

[exercise-of-trust]

yeah so i may have meeting-on-the-turret-stairs'd aegnor and andreth. sorry

[sincerelyneo]

omg hello! i missed you so much!!! 💖 would you consider reposting arcade again?? it was legit the best thing i’ve ever read omg i was so sad when i couldnt find it anymore

its fine if you cant tho!! im glad youre backkkk💖💖💖

ofc i can, i’m glad you liked it <3

arcade | p.js

“i’m out of control, full power up”

💿now playing: arcade by nct dream

❯ summary: Jisung’s been nothing but busy lately, so when you hear he got the weekend of your anniversary off, you can’t help but plan something to spend time with him. Expect, the only thing jisung wants after his busy month is you — and he’s not gonna let your silly arcade date get in the way of that.

❯ pairings: jisung x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, smut, fluffish.

❯ words: 3.5k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, fingering, exhibitionism, reader uses she/her pronouns, use of the name baby, jisung takes pictures whilst fingering reader in a photobooth idk???

"You brought us to an arcade for our three year anniversary?"

You look over to Jisung standing by your side as the pair of you stood in front of the arcade entryway with the giant neon sign above your heads.

"Yeah, surprise - who doesn't love a date night with pizza and an arcade?" You grin, trying to hide the look of nervousness fighting to show once you notice his frown.

“Baby,” he groans, whiny, “I thought we were gonna go home after the pizza.”

You may have lied to him about that.

When you told Jisung about tonight’s date, he originally objected. He wanted to have a chilled night in with just the two of you — alone. Something he hadn’t had for the past four weeks he’d been strung up at work. Yet, you insisted that the two of you celebrated your three year anniversary just like you had done for your first and second.

So instead, the two of you came up with a compromise: head to your favourite pizza place, then come home and watch a movie snuggled together on the couch. In Jisung’s mind ‘watch a movie’ was code for letting his hands roam all over your body whilst he watched you whither and squirm, but he figured it was best to not discuss the minute details.

But don’t get him wrong. Just because he wanted to have a quiet night in didn't mean he hasn’t missed you — because oh he has. He’s only bothered the rest of the dreamies with his annual ‘I miss her’ speech every other hour.

And whilst typically Jisung loved to spend every passing minute of the day with you; right now, all he could think about was how much he wanted to be balls deep in the cunt he’d missed so much — not spending his time in some arcade.

"I haven't been inside one of these since I was a little kid," you tell him. “Please Sungie, just for an hour.” You begin tugging on his hands.

“I don’t know, Y/N. Aren’t we a bit too old to be playing in the arcade?” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Pretty please!”

You hope the small flutter in your eyelashes is enough to win over the hesitant man. And you know it will because he’s told you several times not to give him those signature doe eyes, because he can’t ever bring himself to say no to them.

"Fine."

He grasps your hand, threading your fingers together as he starts to lead the two of you inside. You're instantly greeted with the loud electronic sound effects from the various games, along with the random music playing inside.

There's lights flashing everywhere, and you notice a bunch of people sitting at the bar and in booths near the front of the arcade, along with a bunch wandering around all of the games.

Jisung looks sideways before gesturing his head to the row of retro games, "what do you wanna play?" He asks.

“You can pick first, because I’m such a good girlfriend.”

He can’t help but smile at you — because he knows you're right.

“How about we play some pinball?

"I take it back," you say with a pointed look, "I’ve seen you play that with Chenle and I’m definitely gonna lose.”

“Too late, you’ve already given me the power,” he shrugs and pulls your arm over to where the game is situated.

“Ugh, Jisung. There’s no point, I already know I’m gonna lose,” you try to protest.

“Stop complaining,” he grasps your hips to turn you around to face the pinball machine then comes to stand behind you.

He takes your hands and places them on the buttons either side of the machine in front of you. You feel your cheeks flush when you feel Jisung’s chin rest on your shoulder, as he guides your fingers over the controls and silently coaches you through the game.

You don’t know how he always does it but even here, he's managing to create some form of sexual tension between the two of you at a pinball machine.

“Jisung..” you whisper as he places teasing kisses along your neck.

“Shhh, I’m just trying to help you out,” his lips brush against your neck as he continues hitting the buttons at a constant steady speed. “Besides, I think I’ve found my new favourite way to play pinball tonight."

Eventually, the ball shoots straight down between the two flippers, drawing the game to an end. He’d been doing so well that you wanted to turn around and kiss him but he pressed you harder against the machine, dipping into the crook of your neck to tease your ear.

"You've got no idea how badly I wish I could bend you over this and fuck you right here, right now."

It sent shivers down your whole body as you felt him grin against your skin when he noticed the sharp inhale of air you sucked in at his words.

Jisung knows you're shy, so he’s not surprised that you try to snake away from his grip at his crude remark.

"Look, we got a new high score," he says while he slips his hands from over yours and slides them up your arms. Pretending he didn't just whisper something that dirty. “We make a pretty good team.”

“Yeah ‘cause you did all the work,” you sulk.

You see the red digital writing flashing on the scoreboard, then his arms snake around to link across your lower stomach and pull you firmer against him. To anyone watching you look like a typical couple being affectionate, but the tension makes it feel the furthest thing from innocent.

"You know exactly what you're doing right now, Jisung Park," you huff, trying to control how flustered you feel, "We’re here to play games."

He presses a kiss to your cheek, before murmuring, "I am playing games. And so far I think I'm winning."

As he speaks he lets one of his hands slip down to graze over the front of your crotch, which he swears is an accident when you sternly say his name. But you can’t deny the way the touch made you jolt before he pulls away and steps back. You’d missed his touch — missed being with him like this.

But this was not the place. So you take his hand and turn the two of you to walk off like nothing happened.

The two of you continued to play a handful of arcade games. The classics, retro games, new games — Jisung had even managed to secure you a fluffy teddy bear from the claw game after you mentioned it being ‘impossible’.

You’d been taking it in turns to choose a game each, but when you mentioned the arcade photo booth, your boyfriend had started to get apprehensive.

After some of your amazing buttering up skills with puppy dog eyes, he agreed and he pulled the curtain back for you to get inside, then closes the door on the booth.

He sat down first on the small seat, and when you went to sit next to him he grabbed your waist and pulled you down onto his lap instead. He takes some coins from his pocket and starts putting them in the slot.

You try to get off his lap to sit beside him before the timer starts but he doesn’t let you.

“Just look at the camera and smile."

Once you hear the timer counting down the two of you start posing. But just before the last beep sounds, you get the idea to grab hold of Jisung’s face and let your lips mush against his cheek causing him to scrunch his nose up.

"That’s not fair," he says the second he hears the beeping start again.You stick your tongue out at him and his eyes narrow. “Fine, if that’s the game we’re playing.”

You both look back at the camera and offer smiles, kisses and peace signs. But at the last beep, Jisung gets the idea to move both of his hands to cup over your chest, groping your boobs.

Your mouth falls open as you gasp in shock while Jisung starts laughing.

You try to pull his hands away, "Okay fine, point taken mister grabby hands."

Jisung is practically giggling to himself, whilst you wait for the timer to start again.

“Alright alright, we'll take a serious one now.” He says, placing his chin on your shoulder, as you both look at the camera.

But once again, as the third beeping starts he quickly says, “Do you think people would notice if I made you cum while we're in here?"

Your body stiffens in shock as the picture is taken. Jisung is bursting with laughter and you're taken aback.

Jisung likes sex. He loves sex in fact — especially with you. But he never does this. Sure he teases you when you're out and about — how could he not when you’re so beautiful and perfect for him. But he’s never insinuated doing something so sexual in public like this before.

But here the two of you are. Waiting for the timer to start again, but this time you’re anticipating the shit he was going to pull when the final beep comes — and he does not disappoint. Because his hands slide up your legs, dipping into your inner thighs and squeezing them.

"Jisung," you warn him, "behave yourself."

The beeping starts again, but Jisung doesn't move his hands, and starts to massage his fingers higher.

When the last tick happens, he moves his face to press a kiss to your jaw, and you feel his breath hitting your skin from his nose.

He starts to inch your legs a bit further apart to let his thumbs graze over the crease where your thighs meet your pelvis.

“Ive missed you so fucking much baby,” he whines. “I need you so bad.”

“Jisung not here,” you sigh as his hands start working to warm up your skin.

“Why not? Wouldn’t you like the thought of me getting you off in here? Trying not to get caught?"

If his face wasn't so close to yours you wouldn't be able to hear him over the loud music in the arcade and how low his voice has gotten.

You give him a confused frown, thinking he surely can't be fucking serious but when you do he takes the opportunity to press his lips against you, kissing you while the camera snaps the last picture.

Your stomach is knotting along with your heart beating faster and you feel that familiar heat between your legs but you’d never tell him that — and he’d never tell you that he knows you keep it from him.

"Would you?" He asks again when he breaks the kiss.

You look at him like he's lost his mind. "You're joking right?" You can't be serious - Jisung people get their pictures taken in here, someone could walk in, you can't-"

He makes your words stop and your breath hitch in your throat as he moves his hand up under your skirt and cups his hand between your legs.

"That's not what I asked you," he says letting his eyes trace over your face, then leans closer, "Would you enjoy it?"

“Jisung, this is so unlike you, are you even hearing what you’re asking me?”

He moves his leg a bit and wedges his heel against the edge of the door so it can't be pulled open, "I know exactly what I’m asking you, so answer me."

"We’re supposed to be taking pictures, Sung,” you try changing the subject, and ignore the pressure of his hand pressed against you.

"Oh god we will," he says like it should be obvious.

And now you’re looking even more caught off guard.

“I'd fucking kill to have some pictures of you getting off. Have them to look at them whenever I’m needy and miss you.”

Jisung starts to massage the heel of his palm very slowly against you, adding more pressure over your underwear as you try to squeeze your legs closed but he holds them with his other hand to keep them apart.

"We can't-" it takes very fibre in your body to attempt to protest this, but you easily allow him to cut you off.

"Yes we fucking can," he has that sly look on his face, "But if you don't want to, we won't. It's up to you. Should I stop?"

You exhale a weak breath as he replaces the heel of his palm with his fingers dancing over your underwear, massaging slow circles that make your hips shift.

"Won’t people think it's weird if we're in here too long." you fumble over your words which makes Jisung smile while he bites on his lip.

"Don't worry I'll be quick," he says knowing you’re only making excuses instead of admitting what you really want.

Your eyes drift closed as you sigh, feeling his fingers move against you to create a friction that's only making the throb between your legs worsen. You have absolutely no common sense when it comes to this man and his fucking fingers.

"Should I stop?" He repeats in a low voice, moving his mouth to start to kiss along your jaw.

As usual with him, your functioning brain checks out while your subconscious takes over and you shake your head feeling your breathing start to go shallow.

"You want me to make you cum, yeah? Is that right baby?" His words are slightly muffled as he moves his free hand from your inner thigh and brushes your hair back over your shoulder so he can move his mouth to your neck, "I need words baby."

You should be rational and tell him to stop. But you don't. You wouldn’t dare. You didn’t want him to. So instead you say what you do want, and breathe out a quiet "yes."

Jisung’s own breathing is getting heavier, and the tension in this small enclosed space feels like it's compressing both of you closer together. When he hears your approval, his hand between your legs bunches up the front of your skirt. When he slips it up he snakes his hand over your stomach to push down into your underwear.

A faint groan echoes in Jisung’s throat the second his fingers feel your bare skin, exploring around your underwear to feel the slickness there.

"You’ve made a mess. Missed me this much, huh?” his voice is low, while he drags his warm lips up your neck.

You only manage to nod your head, your brain focused on squirming your hips to find some kind of friction again. He finally rests the pads of his fingers against your throbbing clit, starting to tease circles that force a quiet whimper out of you. Your eyes are still closed as excitement and neediness flood your nerves.

For doing something that should be wrong, it feels so damn right, and it's all you can think of. Feeling him is all you can think about.

"You sure I can take some pictures?" He checks, keeping his movements steady as your hips start to circle against his hand,

You don't respond at first—you can’t—too caught up in how this is feeling, and when he dips his fingers down to your pussy to collect more arousal on his fingers before moving back to your clit and applying more pressure, your head falls forward as you pant out a strained, "You - fuck, yes, you can."

He chuckles hearing how fucked out you are for him, and he’s only just started. But it’s when you hold onto the thigh he’s been using to pry your legs open that his eyes darken with need.

He keeps his fingers moving while he manages to get some coins he had in his pocket, reaching forward to put them into the coin slot, then pressing the button to start the timer.

When he relaxes back he applies a firmer pressure, and starts to massage your clit in quicker circles; making your mouth drop open with a gasped moan. You can barely hear the beep for the picture anymore, everything around you turning blurry, and all you can hear is your heart beat mixed your heavy breathing.

"That's it baby," he coos, with a gravel to his voice from the tension in it, "God I wish I could fuck you right now. I’ve been dying for it.”

Your skin is burning up, and all you can manage in response is the pants from your open mouth, desperately trying to keep yourself quiet.

You start to grind yourself against him as his fingers work, and feel the hard bulge forming in his pants underneath your ass.

He wasn't kidding when he said he'd be quick, he's already building the pressure in your lower belly, making your stomach muscles tighten, while he moves his fingers in the exact way he knows you love it.

That knot in your lower half tightens, and your legs start to tremble as a louder moan you can't stop comes out of your mouth.

"Fuck—Jisung," you whimper, with your chest starting to heave with rapid uneven breaths.

He only quickens his fingers driving with determination and speed, making sure to keep repeating the same movements that are getting the best reactions from you and when your head falls back as you moan again; his free hand comes up to cover your mouth.

"Shhhh—quiet, remember?" He hushes against your ear, groaning at the feeling of you grinding against him, "I know you wanna cum baby, but there’s no way I’m letting anyone else hear how you sound for me.”

All you can manage is a muffled "mhm" against his hand as your eyes squeeze tighter. That familiar sensation starts to ripple from your centre down your legs and into the rest of your limbs.

The orgasm is speeding towards you, faster than anticipated causing your back to arch up as your hips writhe. Your mind is foggy only able to make out quiet whispers of encouragement coming from Jisung.

As the release ripples through your body and your moans are muted against his hand, Jisung groans again, feeling you shake on top of him. He can’t help but snap his hand away to grasp at your jaw to turn your face and kiss you hard while you ride through your climax.

The kiss is mostly open lips grazing against each other, or trying to connect in messy motions with both of your laboured breathing mixing together. His fingers only pause when you try to pull yourself away from them.

Once your eyes drift open to see Jisung’s, the look in them makes you want to squeeze your legs together again if you could move them currently.

Jisung brings his hand up, and grazes his pointer and middle finger he just used to send your body into a frenzy against your lower lip as a silent request for you to open your mouth. You don’t deny it, taking them into your mouth to taste yourself.

“Fucking hell,” his eyes dart back and forth from your eyes to your mouth. His head rolls back against the wall behind you and he whines in the quiet, "God fucking help me."

Your body is still buzzing, floating down dazed from the high it was on, and you watch Jisung bite down on his lower lip as his brows knit tight together, as his hips shift beneath you.

"Everything okay, Sungie?" It’s the only thing your mushed brain can think of saying as you look down at his strained pants.

"Fuck no," he mumbles, looking like he's trying to compose himself, "But it’s my own fault. I suggested we do this. I’ll deal with myself later.”

"Later?" You ask.

Jisung lifts his head back up, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek as he rubs his palm up and down your thigh, "Yeah, later. When we get home and we watch that movie you promised me.”

He thinks you don’t know that he uses the movie thing as a code to fuck you — but you do know — and that’s why you’ve never protested when he puts on another one of those Harry Potter movies he loves.

"You sure you'll be able to wait that long?"

Jisung’s lips lift up at the corners, "I’ve waited weeks for this, I’m sure I can manage a couple more hours.”

He hugs you against him with his arms around your stomach, and back against his firm chest.

"But then again,” he begins “Now I have the memory of how fucking hot watching you get off in here was. That makes waiting like some kind of sick torture to me."

You let out a weak laugh, feeling your cheeks flush more than they already were, "I still can't believe we just did this."

"I can, and there's pictures to prove it," he smiles, pulling the strip of three black and white photos from the dispenser.

[southfarthing]

the hands of the king are the hands of a healer... Aragorn bringing Eowyn back to life from beneath the shadow of the black breath, his hand bearing the ring of Barahir... the ring that Finrod gave to Barahir as an oath to aid him in return after Barahir saved Finrod's life... the ring that played a part in the story of Beren and Luthien, and Elrond and Elros, and Numenor and Gondor, and Arwen and Aragorn himself... the ring of Barahir, kinsman of Andreth... Andreth, to whom Finrod's parting words were, "Whither you go may you find light. Await us there, my brother – and me." ... and then Eowyn, in the houses of healing:

And suddenly her winter passed, and the sun shone on her. 

'I stand in Minas Anor, the Tower of the Sun,' she said; 'and behold! the Shadow has departed!'

pity and hope and healing... light and love......

[eilinelsghost]

“Andreth was a woman of the House of Bëor [...] She was wise in thought, and learned in the lore of Men and their histories; for which reason the Eldar called her Saelind, 'Wise-heart'.”

I have such a warm place in my heart for Andreth, long-suffering wisdom. She is one of my favorite of the women in Tolkien’s legendarium for many reasons, but high up there is that she is allowed to be bitter and angry in the text, while simultaneously retaining the name of Wisdom. In Andreth, female anger and outspoken bitterness are not scorned or held up as negative traits, but are shown to be vindicated through a chapter in which she challenges even the wisdom of the Elves and shifts the understanding of the one she debates.

When I was growing up in a pretty conservative religious household, any anger or pushback on my part was punished as being arrogant, “too emotional,” giving in to the “sin of anger,” or not respecting those in authority around me. So to stumble across Andreth in this chapter holding her own, being angry, being bitter, and somehow still being named Wise was a lifeline that helped me get through to adulthood without losing a pivotal part of myself. As was Finrod in this chapter - a male “authority” figure who did not close her off for speaking her mind, but encouraged her to continue unpacking her thought despite her anger often being directed at him, asked questions to better understand her position, and ultimately changed his view of a pivotal aspect of the created order based on the knowledge she brought to the conversation.

Anyway, she is very dear to me and I finally tried my hand at drawing her.

“Whither you go may you find light.”

[emyn-arnens]

I’ve rounded up some of my favorite Aegnor/Andreth fics and put them into a rec list. Some are sweet, some are heartbreaking, some are a little of both, and all are beautifully written. Please leave a kudos and comment if you enjoy!

Note: Works marked with “character death” either begin with one or both of them dead, or one or both of them die during the course of the story. Links lead to AO3 or the SWG.

Across the Gulf by Antiheld (T, 3.1k):

A brief moment of rebelling against fates. Andreth/Aegnor Oneshot, AU(ish)

A Few Good Years to Spend by Verecunda (G, 4.7k):

“Tell him not to be reckless. Not to seek danger beyond need!” Once, Aegnor turned away from the desires of his heart. But when Finrod gives him a message from Andreth, the love he gave up so long ago will no longer be denied.

All in Patience, All in Haste by EilinelsGhost (G, ~700 words):

A month or two after the Athrabeth, Andreth receives another Arafinwëan visitor.

A Moth in Amber by Mithen (G, 1k, character death):

Andreth and Aegnor had one spring together, and each of them carried it in their hearts the rest of their lives.

Burnt Sugar by @sallysavestheday (G, ~200 words):

Aegnor and Andreth and fires in the dark.

Candlelight On Tapestry by amyfortuna (G, 1.1k, character death):

In the Halls of Mandos, Aegnor spends his time staring into memories and dreams, until he's shaken out of them by an unexpected meeting.

Clear Visions by @hhimring (T, 1.2k):

Aegnor sings to Andreth of Valinor.

For One Year, One Day, of the Flame by @cuarthol (T, 1.7k):

Andreth prepares for the approach of midwinter, while Aegnor seeks to right a choice from long ago, before it is too late.

Sharing by Ruiniel (T, 1.4k):

The concept of ‘mind-pictures’ in The Nature of Middle-earth is interesting to explore, applied an interpretation of it to this short scene featuring Aegnor and Andreth (trying to get back into writing for Tolkien). "In any case indemmar were by Men mostly received in sleep (dream). If received when bodily awake they were usually vague and phantom-like (and often caused fear) [...]" Slightly AU take on this one.

Though We Shall Not Leave by LadyBrooke (T, 5k, character death):

Aegnor died, but that does not mean he left Andreth's side for long.

Whither you go by Ruiniel (T, 1.3k, character death):

'Whither you go may you find light. Await us there, my brother - and me.' - from Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth, J.R.R. Tolkien Months ago, tried a short ghost story about souls meeting again in a time out of time. Featuring the saddest OTP. The AU is on me (apologies).

Who will pity the candle and the moth? by @hhimring (T, ~200 words, character death):

A very brief encounter between Andreth and Aegnor after death. Maybe Nienna had her hand in it, allowing Andreth to linger for a short while among dead Elves. Or maybe not?

worth the candle by arriviste (G, 1.2k, character death):

“I cannot linger here,” Andreth says. That is a truth she knows. This is only a doorway. “Still we might snatch a little time,” says Aegnor. - Aegnor and Andreth meet in the Halls.

[camille-lachenille]

Of Laughter and Tears in the Children of Húrin or the fates of Lalaith and Niënor:

Lalaith was doomed to die young from the beginning. She was Joy and Innocence in a not yet tainted world, in a family soon to be cursed, and her death foreshadowed the terrible events to come, for not joy and happiness can last under Morgoth’s gaze.

On the other hand, Niënor, born after most of her family is dead or lost, lives. She is born and raised in sorrow, she is the embodiment of grief, of all that was lost, in a broken land and family. She never could afford innocence or happiness. And Niënor endures; Grief endures and persists. Even when she has lost everything, even her own identity, she still has her tears left as she becomes Níniel.

Just as her older sister’s life was cut short; a beautiful, short-lived burst of happiness, Niënor’s drags and lasts through the worst, until she actively jumps to her death. Happiness can be taken away in the blink of an eye, but you have to actively choose to overcome grief in order to go on. And Niënor couldn’t live any longer because she was grief, just like Lalaith had to die so young because she was happiness.

The two sisters who mever met each other mirror the other’s life in a tragical way.

And, to paraphrase the Athrabeth, whither may Lalaith go, may she find light and await there for her siblings.

[arealphrooblem]

Surrender Prompt Fills #3

Was about to pump this out before surgery. Wish me luck y'all! As always, these fills were inspired by the amazing surrender prompts by @whither-wander-whump

Part two here

- a character who steps forward and holds out their hands to be restrained almost gleefully. Bantering and trading taunts with their captor, because they know that every moment they spend here is another moment their team/friend/lover has to get away.

“I have to admit, I didn’t think it would be this easy.”

The antagonist stared down at the hero’s proffered hands like it could be a bomb

The hero grinned, pouncing on this opportunity like a cat with a laser pointer. “Are you calling me easy?”

“Are you — once again — twisting everything I say into a pathetic double entendre?” The sheer exasperation so early on in their banter made the hero’s smile curl into a smirk.

“You ask that as if you don’t set me up for that exact response.”

The antagonist gave them a flat stare. “I don’t.”

“Not consciously at least,” the hero added, fondness leaking through their tone.

They should feel anything but fond right now, staring down the barrel of a painful captivity in hopes that their teammates could get away. They were minnows compared to the white whale the hero had become to the antagonist. Years of teasing, cat and mouse games, dancing out of the antagonist’s clutches at the last moment — all down the drain. The game was over and the hero lost.

And yet anticipation buzzed electric under their skin at what the antagonist would finally do now they had the hero in their hands. So many years of pent up threats and sly hints at the strange attraction stretched taut between them spelled a kind of risk/reward feedback the hero couldn’t help but look forward to.

“Well?” they prompted, wigging their wrists. “Do I have to put the cuffs on myself?”

The antagonist did nothing but stare, as if their very gaze could take the hero apart piece by piece and see everything inside. The hero tried their best to look as guileless as possible in return.

“Tell me the catch and I’ll consider it.”

The hero blinked. “There is no catch. You want me. You can have me.”

“What’s the price then?”

The hero debated on another oblivious answer, but the way the antagonist’s eyes narrowed spelled the end of their patience. The game was over.

“You get me,” they said softly, “and only me. No one else.”

Understanding bloomed in the antagonist’s gaze. “I see. They’re already gone, then?”

“I sure hope so. I wouldn’t want to deliver myself to your tender mercies for nothing.”

Something flickered in the antagonist’s eyes. A sharper edge. A hunger. Without warning the antagonist shoved them roughly against the side of the car, cuffs clicking with tight finality over the hero’s wrists.

“What I am going to do to you,” the antagonist breathed, their lips just a scant few inches away, “is neither tender nor a mercy.”

Something bright sparked sharply in the hero’s chest. Whether it was fear or desire, they couldn’t tell you.

What I am going to do to you

Oh the terrifying and electrifying implications of that statement.

The hero’s gaze darted down to the antagonist’s mouth, drawn like a magnet to iron. They watched a smirk curl the corner of their lips up before the antagonist leaned in close to their ear. Their fingers pressed into the thrumming pulse in the hero’s wrists.

“Perhaps, if you’re good, you may even enjoy some of it. But you would have to be very good, Hero. Are you sure you’re capable of that?”

The hero felt strangely light-headed. Fear and delight danced a tango in their chest, as close together as the hero and the antagonist were right now.

“I guess we’ll find out,” they whispered.

The antagonist pulled back far enough to lock their dark dark gaze onto the hero.

“Yes, we will.”

[airendis]

"But you are not for Arda. Whither you go may you find light. Await us there, my brother - and me."

[orphanheirs]

OC Questionnaire

Thanks so much for the tag, @drchenquill !!

My questions:

Would you rather be able to see the future or fix the past?

What pushes you to keep going?

How much have you changed?

I decided to do this for the two characters I've developed the most thus far, Crispin and Tristan. I tried to answer in-character as other people have been, and kind of picked a point in the middle (?) of the story and answered how they might at that point. Their responses may not be the truthful answer, but they are the answers the characters would give. I'm overthinking this aren't I.

1. Would you rather be able to see the future or fix the past?

Tristan: See the future, obviously. Really, think what a bore it would be to do what you have already done. And think what wonderful and, indeed, dreadful things one could witness if only one could conjure an image of the future! Yes, I would be most desirous to do so, not only in expectation of fantastic visions, but also to see what the vision shewed in relation to what may befall my person..imagine the trouble one might avoid!

Crispin: 'Twere well to mend what I have done. Scrying is a murky business, and beset with lies. If you are desirous to know whither you are going, 'tis best to step forward one foot a time.

2. What pushes you to keep going?

Tristan: My fierce will, my unshrinking pursuit of the sublime, the promise of adventure and discovery round every bend, Life, Life, Life!!

Crispin: There be one lost who I must find.

3. How much have you changed?

Tristan: I suppose I have changed since I left Society to take up my present occupation--that is, of magician--and determined to live out my days without the dull encumbrance of civilization. I am more frolicsome and more saucy, and I know a great deal more arcane mysteries. I feel my world, once the size of a soggy pea, has blasted open wider than I could perceive before. All is cast in quite a different light. I am consumed every moment with wild need to seize it!

Crispin: I've not changed much. Well..verily have I learned me letters and sorceries..and, i'faith, bide I in this Realm, and this hath whittled me into a different Shape. But methinks in center I be the same.

Aaaaand I'll tag @luchadorbard, @ryns-ramblings, and @winglesswriter!

Your questions are:

Do you like reading?

What's the worst way to die?

Is there such a thing as a "necessary evil"?

[ancient-rome-au]

The Vanilla Expedition (Part VI)

[past poll results here]

While others attend to more mundane preparations, our heroine Fausta Cypria travels to Delphi to consult the Pythia. The people of Rome have demanded "vanilla" but no one is exactly sure what it is or where to find it. How did the idea even get into their heads? Is vanilla just a myth? Anyways...

Solemnly, Fausta speaks: "O Phoebus Apollo, I must undertake a voyage but know not whither. The people of Rome demand a spice called 'vanilla.' Lord of Light, I beseech thee: speak now through thy most esteemed servant and may thy words guide me to my goal."

Eyes closed, the Pythia breathes deeply, inhaling the sacred fumes that waft up from the cleft in the earth. After a long and pregnant pause, she opens her eyes and slowly intones:

"The wind that guides you will not return you."

"The white flower grows where the terrible lizards perished."

"Seek Helios' stables."

[honourablejester]

Thoughts on Starfinder’s Pact Worlds Setting

So I went back and bought the Pact Worlds sourcebook as well, because the hints of the setting from the Core Rulebook were intriguing. I have not regretted it. There is an awful lot of fun stuff in here. I’m only partway through, but some thoughts so far:

The Sun is fucking cool. Even just the option that the sun is an interactable location in the system is fantastic. The Burning Archipelago is such a cool setting element and idea. I love Verdeon so much, this bubble city given over to horticulture and pleasure gardens in the surface of a star. A giant greenhouse with floating planting platforms, some angled straight into the sun’s burning light for extreme heat-thriving plants, and others angled outward into space for more shade-loving plants. Beautiful pleasure gardens, again, hanging inside a star. It’s fantastic.

Also, continuing the theme of solar horticulture, the NatuReal corporation with its orbital jungle boxes full of plant monsters and incredibly well-protected corporate HQ-slash-company-town in Fireside would make a great villain for an adventure. Investigating the oopsies in the jungle boxes and trying to figure out if there’s a more sinister pattern underlying what’s going dark (or a PC/NPC character who survived one of the ‘going dark’ incidents and wants revenge-slash-answers) could wind up with a party trying to do a heist on a fortified corporate HQ inside a fucking bubble city floating in the sun. Which, let’s be real, would be fun.

(If this has shown up already in an adventure, feel free to tell me!)

Verces is also really fucking cool. It’s not the planet I thought would be as cool as it is, but there’s a lot to work with on Verces. The whole tidally-locked thing, and the wildly diverse landscapes and timescapes that enables, are amazing. The perpetually night Darkside and the viciously sun-seared Fullbright, with the full cyberpunk equator-spanning city-belt in the middle, are a spectacular way to get a lot things going on on the same world. You’ve got full on (genuine, entirely literal) Mad Max, Warlords of Barsoom going on in one corner, cyberpunk terrorist shenanigans in the middle, and then John Carpenter’s The Thing on the other.

My horror-loving heart probably does love the Darkside best, naturally. This frozen evernight wasteland of ice and blood. The artificial lights of mining rigs and industrial platforms looming out of the ice and the darkness. The horrific creatures out on the ice who’ll bind you alive inside their bodies and slowly drain you of blood while you still live. The fucking cenobite monastery of terrifying ascetics who let frostbite eat their limbs so that they can be wired directly and bodily into starship drive systems. Verces’ Darkside is less Hoth, and more The Thing meets Event Horizon meets Hellraiser meets Chronicles of Riddick. I’m vibrating. It’s incredible.

(Sidenote: I’m not sure on the timing here, but is it possible the Starfinder writers were taking some notes from Sunless Sea/Skies? There’s a couple of things on Verces that give me definite Unterzee vibes. Lempro and the intis in particular give me Whither/Codex vibes. There’s a lot of influences apparent in Starfinder, I’m catching pieces of so many of my favourite sci-fi/horror/fantasy canons, so I’m just idly wondering)

The Diaspora may well be my favourite of all the Pact Worlds. If you want space. That full kind of working-class SF, roguish SF, asteroid miners and smugglers flying junkers and the wrecks of derelict starships, the Diaspora is for you. The Expanse, Alien, Event Horizon. Godfall from Sunless Sea. The Millennium Falcon accidentally hiding inside the maw of an asteroid worm. Magnetic Rose. Captain Harlock/Queen Emeraldas. If you want to find strange objects and eldritch mysteries floating silently in space. If you want space pirate outpost-cities hidden in asteroids. If you want starship nomads on mobile trade and repair outposts servicing miners and outlaws. If you want vast mining facilities hanging gently in space. If you want underground slave-liberation movements hiding in the ‘mountains’ (asteroids) away from civilisation. If you want vast ship’s graveyards inexplicably bundled around innocuous points in space. The Diaspora has it all. It’s incredible. I would play a whole game that was just dootling around the Diaspora doing odd jobs and stumbling into horrifying mysteries. If Paizo ever wanted to make a Starfinder video game, set it here. I will play it.

Within the Diaspora, The Hum is so fucking good. Look. Vast fields of wrecked and disabled ships orbiting around a weird anomaly in space that makes them lethal to go near is a trope, it’s a fucking good trope, I love it a whole hell of a lot. A madness inducing anomaly that pulls people in and makes it near-impossible to escape is a fantastic mystery to just put there. Can you do anything with it? Maybe not, not survivably, but it’s an excellent thing to just have be there, a known weirdness and danger to shipping, a piece of the lore of a place.

I also really, really love the Farabarrium. A ratfolk trade and salvage barge made from a salvaged warship that they just took over, there’s vibes of Star Wars Legends in there, but also just … Ysoki are one of my favourite races, and them just operating a stolen/salvaged mobile garage/gas station out of a repurposed dead warship in this backwater area of space does something happy for me.

The fact that the Diaspora has significant quantities of ysoki, dwarves and sarcesians, three species that are rapidly coming to be my favourites, also does not hurt its place in my internal rankings. There’s a lot of just good stuff in the Diaspora. Mystic rivers that flow inexplicably through space. Rat-run flying petrol stations. Vacuum-capable player races with solar wings. Monasteries that are not-so-secretly worshipping Nyarlathotep. Strange wailing insane asylums/prisons that drive people insane and may involve the King in Yellow. Dwarven asteroid-cities. Robot liberation movements. The Diaspora is such a perfect intersection of so many things I like. It wins. It has to win.

But I still have six planets to go, so maybe we’ll see. Heh. This is a very fun setting. Also, I suspect I may be showing my tastes in fiction over here.

[exercise-of-trust]

thought i heard a red-winged blackbird red-winged blackbird down my road he'll be in there singing his heart out he'll be telling me stories too of where he went to winter last year of how he's going back there too

[likeniobe]

andrew marvell, "the nymph complaining for the death of her fawn"

The wanton troopers riding by Have shot my fawn, and it will die. Ungentle men! they cannot thrive To kill thee. Thou ne’er didst alive Them any harm, alas, nor could Thy death yet do them any good. I’m sure I never wish’d them ill, Nor do I for all this, nor will; But if my simple pray’rs may yet Prevail with Heaven to forget Thy murder, I will join my tears Rather than fail. But oh, my fears! It cannot die so. Heaven’s King Keeps register of everything, And nothing may we use in vain. Ev’n beasts must be with justice slain, Else men are made their deodands; Though they should wash their guilty hands In this warm life-blood, which doth part From thine, and wound me to the heart, Yet could they not be clean, their stain Is dyed in such a purple grain. There is not such another in The world to offer for their sin.

Unconstant Sylvio, when yet I had not found him counterfeit One morning (I remember well) Tied in this silver chain and bell, Gave it to me; nay, and I know What he said then; I’m sure I do. Said he, “Look how your huntsman here Hath taught a fawn to hunt his dear.” But Sylvio soon had me beguil’d, This waxed tame, while he grew wild; And quite regardless of my smart, Left me his fawn, but took his heart.

Thenceforth I set myself to play My solitary time away, With this, and very well content Could so mine idle life have spent; For it was full of sport, and light Of foot and heart, and did invite Me to its game; it seem’d to bless Itself in me. How could I less Than love it? Oh, I cannot be Unkind t’ a beast that loveth me.

Had it liv’d long, I do not know Whether it too might have done so As Sylvio did; his gifts might be Perhaps as false or more than he. But I am sure, for aught that I Could in so short a time espy, Thy love was far more better then The love of false and cruel men.

With sweetest milk and sugar first I it at mine own fingers nurst; And as it grew, so every day It wax’d more white and sweet than they. It had so sweet a breath! And oft I blush’d to see its foot more soft And white, shall I say than my hand? Nay, any lady’s of the land.

It is a wond’rous thing how fleet ’Twas on those little silver feet; With what a pretty skipping grace It oft would challenge me the race; And when ’t had left me far away, ’Twould stay, and run again, and stay, For it was nimbler much than hinds, And trod, as on the four winds.

I have a garden of my own, But so with roses overgrown And lilies, that you would it guess To be a little wilderness; And all the spring time of the year It only loved to be there. Among the beds of lilies I Have sought it oft, where it should lie; Yet could not, till itself would rise, Find it, although before mine eyes; For, in the flaxen lilies’ shade, It like a bank of lilies laid. Upon the roses it would feed Until its lips ev’n seemed to bleed, And then to me ’twould boldly trip And print those roses on my lip. But all its chief delight was still On roses thus itself to fill, And its pure virgin limbs to fold In whitest sheets of lilies cold. Had it liv’d long it would have been Lilies without, roses within.

O help, O help! I see it faint, And die as calmly as a saint. See how it weeps! The tears do come, Sad, slowly dropping like a gum. So weeps the wounded balsam, so The holy frankincense doth flow; The brotherless Heliades Melt in such amber tears as these.

I in a golden vial will Keep these two crystal tears, and fill It till it do o’erflow with mine, Then place it in Diana’s shrine.

Now my sweet fawn is vanish’d to Whither the swans and turtles go, In fair Elysium to endure With milk-white lambs and ermines pure. O do not run too fast, for I Will but bespeak thy grave, and die.

First my unhappy statue shall Be cut in marble, and withal Let it be weeping too; but there Th’ engraver sure his art may spare, For I so truly thee bemoan That I shall weep though I be stone; Until my tears, still dropping, wear My breast, themselves engraving there. There at my feet shalt thou be laid, Of purest alabaster made; For I would have thine image be White as I can, though not as thee.

[southfarthing]

sHUt UP not aegnor and andreth eoduhvoaivhnaqpnqa ive been waiting for you to read athrabeth for ages. I know this is controversial but theyre my favorite couple and finrod and andreth is my favorite platonic ship it kills me I cant think, finrod was so devoted to her and they were intellectual soulmates even if on the opposite side and aegnor DIED before her, and she thought she would trouble him rips hair out and eats it

and the nature ajkfnof elves and how they differ from men and how they think and how deeply Morgoth has corrupted the land that they believe they are cursed but andreth will be free one day and aegnor will be trapped in mandos alone till the second song comes and I my head hurts

it was SOOOOOOOOO literally I was sat reading in the park with my brain rising from my body like

it was SUCH an interesting discussion??? I definitely need to read it again because there was so much going on but yes the way elves know their past while men seem to have come out of such darkness that they see morgoth as the most powerful force???? and always that sense of loss and bitterness 😩😩😩 and all the discussion of hopelessness and hope and pity and healing and 😩😩😩😩😩😩😩

and then the breaks every once in a while where you see how close finrod and andreth are 😩🥺🥺 when he says in Arda remade the elves would sing to the men and andreth is like 'what would you say once you've done singing' and Finrod laughs 😩🥹😩🥹

AND THEN. GOD.

DO CANDLES PITY MOTHS.... OR MOTHS CANDLES WHEN THE WIND BLOWS THEM OUT?...... I TELL THEE AIKANAR LOVED THEE........... THEN WHY DID HE TURN AWAY WHILE I HAD A GOOD FEW YEARS TO SPEND........FOR ONE YEAR, ONE DAY, OF THE FLAME I WOULD HAVE GIVEN ALL....... THAT HE KNEW ........

she doesn't want to be a burden but she never would have been because he never would have run on before her he would have waited but he didn't want her to feel ashamed . but none of that matters because he's going to die first anyway. im literally abt to start chomping on my mattress. the memory of her he will take with him but what will she take wherever it is that she goes ....... 😩🔫

why are elves abd men made different......so we can touch hands in the darkness ... ..

and at the end... "But you are not for Arda. Whither you go may you find light. Await us there, my brother – and me." HEEEEEEEEE Finrod has SO much love and respect for her i want to scream i am inconsolable I will never recover from this i cant believe you recommended this to me my brain chemistry has been changed forever

[nbula-rising]

The Road Goes Ever On and On

The Road Goes Ever On and On

The Hobbits' Walking Song (several different versions)

by J. R. R. Tolkien

I. From The Hobbit

Roads go ever ever on, Over rock and under tree, By caves where never sun has shone, By streams that never find the sea; Over snow by winter sown, And through the merry flowers of June, Over grass and over stone, And under mountains in the moon.

Roads go ever ever on Under cloud and under star, Yet feet that wandering have gone Turn at last to home afar. Eyes that fire and sword have seen And horror in the halls of stone Look at last on meadows green And trees and hills they long have known.

II. Two stanzas from The Lord of the Rings

The Road goes ever on and on Down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, And I must follow, if I can, Pursuing it with eager feet, Until it joins some larger way Where many paths and errands meet. And whither then? I cannot say.

The Road goes ever on and on Out from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, Let others follow it who can! Let them a journey new begin, But I at last with weary feet Will turn towards the lighted inn, My evening-rest and sleep to meet.

III. Upon the Hearth the Fire is Red

Upon the hearth the fire is red, Beneath the roof there is a bed; But not yet weary are our feet, Still around the corner we may meet A sudden standing stone That none have seen but we alone. Tree and flower and leaf and grass, Let them pass! Let them pass! Hill and water under sky, Pass them by! Pass them by!

Still around the corner there may wait A new road or a secret gate, And though we pass them by today, Tomorrow we may come this way And take the hidden paths that run, Towards the Moon or to the Sun. Apple, thorn and nut and sloe Let them go! Let them go! Sand and stone and pool and dell, Fare you well! Fare you well!

Home is behind, the world ahead, And there are many paths to tread Through shadows to the edge of night, Until the stars are all alight. Then world behind and home ahead, We'll wander back to home and bed. Mist and twilight, cloud and shade, Away shall fade! Away shall fade! Fire and lamp, and meat and bread, And to bed! And then to bed!

(Alternate verse)

Still round the corner there may wait A new road or a secret gate, And though I oft have passed them by, A day will come at last when I Shall take the hidden paths that run West of the Moon, East of the Sun.

[libidomechanica]

“Their future she spake, I shunned the light enough”

A kimo sequence

               1

There he shore strict sense, as hath of my brain, its aim. Their future she spake, I shunned the light enough?

               2

Said thee so tickle of a poet, if twas certain springing, or to sex. As night to my chin.

               3

Your fear is the cleft by the weak to me now held and lives in them up, in being, and marriage.

               4

A disguise, when she had, a Mirror that. The halcyon days; unwrapping in their fill the gout?

               5

Let me go. Tis not murder-spot. Embrace, light as one mad. I dreamt rather if I can feeling.

               6

I have seen about the fire? If by us, the last strange songs, the soil hath beechen grudge me now.

               7

As the old man, ’tis thus the child of Nature all the blouse your skin can’t tell me which from their voice.

               8

There, his soul, were burn blue. White neck, with a sigh—it was crazy. ’Er-power’d in dreams there were like.

               9

A third, too, in azure mirth, so many scorn that has floating will. And the scorn to vex us?

               10

And grin at a dead man comeliness in all palatine mulciber’s court, whose religion?

               11

Sultan of hope, to this was the door, love, the shepherd-god. Mortal! And I will awake, and there.

               12

’Tis he did a mother’s crest shade more her mind. I am just Káfir than even chalice, drank.

               13

—The cave is so rare, the other, then, sick to die! Something out of such high soaring heifers sleep.

               14

Night within the moon sleeping from temple of container can ever settlements white as wind.

               15

Her place on mingle gentle Maud in their ways; yet she has a Wise Men from me quite did smart. Ah!

               16

Softer suppers for his hair black cable. A poor, love-begotten hand is safe arrive with dew.

               17

Why do you scorn that looks have I not less for blood? New and as honey cells for Cleopatra’s eyes.

               18

Being said You do us, Princes, ill- report. You lose musk rose people would rather to rest.

               19

Hers content; what the truth! It mean it not. For so I may something tongue; which you are no sinners?

               20

And there beating with her than not remember. All general of our old annihilates them!

               21

By, which how dark webs, here walk’d them. Of Adeline, all out with eyes the transfigure, showing rain.

               22

I have imagined for the maid? Do but feels right, and porphyry, and so for the purr of them.

               23

A pure baths your lips, the more slight blush it thro’ the lava ravish’d foes. With a wide world, and grew.

               24

To hold me no more can rejects. Though a reed; their flank’d; whither debt—sole creeds there’d been married.

               25

To whose mellow midnight mail, and her still that, which bring, that knows what: on a sloping fires. Her them.

               26

Whistle, and night; tis not lieth! My day prepar’d— the stately bask in her friends forlorn, my bracelet.

               27

Is, that in the one if she said, return no more. I am sure, or whereby your lowing dews.

               28

Great Solemnity. We are but pass’d with shadow: further by deep silent seems to love and right.

               29

Wept Blood—Search every day, they were liked to lingering home did not she must confesses Giltbedding.

               30

Happy mother, like prayer and that way, just when thou,—finding up. When I know eternity.

               31

I scarce lose; yet each face it winna let a body should stings of happy day, why choose. Their strife.

               32

Moon, trees old. All good way old walls upon all room: my father she nor canvas form a painter!

               33

And, seemed pale forests head, now for certain glisten’d, her feet. I don’t own arms and orbed in it.

               34

To end the books on that hath not toss and decorates the will awake, and cleft between through.

               35

Not end is the arrow was to be free. Watch out for us, a black e’e, yet she with a stand!

               36

The Sage marvell’d along, up in a world so sore ills, and vice. As the view any room I stood.

               37

Like other, less fleeces? Brought, and there. Poets, the tends to thigh. Be so involve in t the man.

               38

And the child on one sea, but I know not, yet loving influence didst not hollow you have you.

               39

’ May perhaps be well set for your forehead, when I have dined, a hazard. That golden pits: ’twas they!

               40

Roses ‘mid basket of late September. Doorknobs and ever, never lived with all spoke, Dudu?

               41

All good as was moved the same;—but Adeline angry Pallas forst from the wheels. And watched the task.

               42

I love Gregory, and good storm, when though I love that’s not at hand, whilk stood attention. May die.

               43

Are question—who can pass, by those than a very loth thou will I—nill I. And wha will surmise?

               44

Real as a Czar; and which, alas!-—So I shall I not ask them both! Her perfect it sound out there.

               45

Her head is scatter’d so; I must be but as a bonny ship, and when ever? Though the burn blue.

               46

Away! We leave me thus? Doth hide already, a morning the western blasts do roses—too base?

               47

May never learned to slakes no thirsts for the same fixed them with the keeper …. Bright, what out of.

               48

Something moment. When thousand bosom I ask me no more ingenuous whose gentle reader!

               49

White rush, into the foamy waves which might prejudice—for none of gold? Willow as idlers do.

               50

For it’s jet, jet black despair under you beware of the task. The Highland him, he have tarried.

               51

That females of The Fire of all the primrose they ought: of all come to you. He with oaths, fair God!

               52

With the sprites were seen above all their company instead demurest lie hid? Most the souls!

               53

What so loudly as to bathed to shoot. Lay down-sunken hour; we whispered: Take me this part, and stand!