#words of gratitude by hail the sun

[saturn-noctua]

I made this at like 3am and I'm really proud of it considering that I've never made a serious cover of anything before and I only play bass.

[a-fix-of-muses]

Currently Listening To: "Words of Gratitude - Reimagined" by Hail The Sun

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

Turning Points

Pairing: Éomer x reader (who doesn’t want to imagine themselves hanging out with Éomer??). Plus an Elfhelm cameo because I love that dude.

Summary: Éomer’s lifelong best friend reckons with how much and how quickly his life has changed as a result of the war and wonders what that means for the life she had hoped to have with him.

************

The clear, deep sound of horns rang out in the distance and alerted all of Edoras to the imminent arrival of the army, home for the first time since that urgent, panicked ride to Helm’s Deep more than two months ago. Although word of their subsequent deeds and victories in Gondor had already reached the city, many details were yet unknown, and the mood of those who gathered in the streets was celebratory but tinged with anxiety as hopeful eyes prepared to scan the returning éoreds for a first glimpse of deeply missed loved ones.

The terrace in front of Meduseld quickly filled with people, and you slipped easily into the crowd as the first few companies of horsemen began to climb the hill. The riders smiled broadly at the cheers and flowers that rained down on them, though some still bore clear evidence of painful wounds and fractures. Others led behind them riderless horses, the mounts of those soldiers who would never return. You whispered a quiet prayer of gratitude, knowing from the messengers who had gone back and forth from Minas Tirith that both of those most precious to you were safely in the host.

No sooner had you finished your prayer than a cry went up from the crowd–“Hail, Elfhelm, Marshal of Edoras!”—and your father came into view. As gregarious as he was popular, he played shamelessly to the crowd, doffing his stallion-crested helmet and waving a shield that had clearly been confiscated from some defeated Haradrim commander. When his eyes finally landed on you, he gave a joyful whoop and sprang from the saddle. Throwing the helmet and shield aside, he ran to you with the speed of a much younger man, and the strength of his embrace forced the breath from your lungs. He spun you around several times as you kissed his sunburned cheeks, and when he placed you on your feet again he grasped your shoulders and gazed for a long moment at your face.

“Many nights have I dreamed of just this view,” he said. “There is no finer one in all of Middle Earth.”

You gave his hands a squeeze. “I have not known a moment’s peace since you left. Now that you are back, I may never let you leave again.”

“I am at your command, my lady,” he said with a smile and an exaggerated bow. “But I do not flatter myself so much as to think that I am the only one you have been missing. The royal household will be arriving soon, and I am certain you are as eager to see the new king as he must be to see you.”

Your heart leaped in your chest at the mention of Éomer, but this was not the time or the place to open the gate that held back those feelings. “For my part, I shall certainly be glad to see him home and safe. But a man such as Éomer has many friends, and no doubt he desires to see them all.”

He burst into laughter. “Do you speak such nonsense on purpose, or have I really raised you to be so naive? I know that you do not admit it to others, and perhaps not even between yourselves, but I have watched the two of you for many years now and I know love when I see it. Let us not pretend you are just one friend among many, a single star in a crowded sky. You are his sun, just as he is yours. I may be old, but I am certainly not blind.”

Your face flushed in pain and embarrassment. If your father had perceived all of this, likely others had, too. It was true that you loved Éomer, and you had always believed he loved you back. You felt his devotion in the way he trusted you and watched out for you, in the look on his face when you walked into a room. But neither of you had ever stated it outright. Perhaps you had been wrong all along, reading a great deal too much into a cherished friendship. Or perhaps what he felt was no longer relevant given his new responsibilities and duties. Either way, when Éomer married another in a few months' time, your crushed hopes would be on display for the whole city to see and discuss.

“Things have changed, father. You know that. The Éomer that I have known all my life was Éomund’s son. He was not heir to the throne of Rohan and certainly not its king. His life is very different now from the one we might have expected just months ago when Théodred was still alive.”

He sighed. “Much has happened, I concede. He has gone from nephew to heir to king. He nearly lost his sister. He comes home with much to reflect on. But his heart itself has not changed.”

“Has it not?” Despite your best efforts, your voice broke and tears began to slide down your cheeks. “Then what of the news that has already made its way back here in advance of your return? Amongst word of your victories and the death of poor Théoden, it also said that Éomer is to marry the princess of Dol Amroth. They say she is considered a proper match for a king of the Mark, and that none less than the new king of Gondor himself proposed it. If I have heard this, surely you have, too.”

Your father reached up to gently brush a tear aside. “Anyone who would claim that you–the finest woman in all of Rohan–are not a proper match for our own king does not have sense enough to offer an opinion on the subject. I have heard this talk of Dol Amroth, it is true, but I have not heard any of it from Éomer’s own lips. And I will not believe it unless I do. His choice was made long ago. You will see.” He put a finger under your chin and tipped your face up to him. “Now, I would stay here and debate this with you all day if your mother were not surely waiting for me at home. And if she thinks I have not hurried there with sufficient speed, she will soon accomplish what all the swordsmen of Harad could not!”

You smiled in spite of yourself and kissed him one last time before he remounted his horse. He gave you a wink as he rode on, and you dried your eyes before turning back to the procession of riders making their way forward.

Before long, the king’s banner appeared at the bottom of the hill. Even at that distance, it was easy to identify Éomer among the many men of his household–you would always recognize his frame and the way he carried himself even if he were not wearing his distinctive horse-tailed helmet and sitting astride Firefoot, who had now been arrayed with a saddle and bridle that sparkled with the gold of a monarch.

As he came into closer view, you could begin to discern the new trappings of royalty–the beautiful green cloak trimmed with shining gold embroidery, the neatly braided hair, the fur-lined boots. But underneath these superficial changes, he still looked like your Éomer. The same man who shared with you a lifetime of confidences and mischief and private jokes. The one who cried in your arms when he missed his parents. Who doted on you whenever you were sick and angrily confronted anyone he thought had hurt your feelings. Who stole your breath every time he turned his hazel eyes and dimpled smile in your direction.

His company dismounted near the bottom of the terrace, and he moved toward the stairs, trailed by attendants, guards and throngs of well-wishers eager to greet their new king. The clamor presented a perfect opportunity to slip away now that you had confirmed with your own eyes that he was safe and unharmed. It was the coward’s way out, but even one more day before you had to directly confront your new reality would be a gift. Just as you began to turn away, however, the sound of his voice carried over the tumult, calling your name.

You froze in place as he approached, feeling immediately uncertain of everything–how to stand, where to look, what to do. A lifetime of affectionate greetings and easy companionship had not prepared you to meet under these circumstances, not as intimate friends but as ruler and subject. Beloved and left behind. Hearing nothing but the sound of your own blood pulsing in your veins, you bowed and looked down.

“Hail, Éomer King.” When you finally raised your eyes, you could see uncertainty written on his face as well. He took another step toward you but stopped, and tentatively reached out a hand before dropping it back to his side. He looked in both directions, where dozens of attentive faces observed his every move.

“I am glad to see you,” he said quietly. His eyes sought yours, and when you allowed them to meet he gave you a soft smile. “I have missed you.”

“I…I am much relieved to see you home. These have been long and anxious months.”

Before either of you could speak again, an armored man at Éomer’s side cleared his throat and nodded in the direction of Meduseld. “You are expected in the hall, my lord. There is much business awaiting your attention, including messages due both to Minas Tirith and Dol Amroth.”

The mention of Dol Amroth sent an icy stab of pain into your chest, and you shrank back several steps, seeking a swift retreat. “Go ahead, my lord,” you managed to say. “A king’s duties must come first.”

His thick brows drew together and he frowned slightly, but eventually he nodded his assent. Your feet carried you away and down a maze of small streets and back alleys, picking up speed as you got further from the crowd, until at last you reached the edge of the city and disappeared into the surrounding fields and paddocks. You cast yourself down in the tall, sweet-smelling grass, shedding tears until you had none left and then staring up dolefully at the flat, blank sky. No matter how you considered and reconsidered your position, only two excruciating choices seemed to lay before you–either to find a new way to love Éomer, shorn of all romantic possibility and content to exist on the terms available to you, or to lose him entirely from your life. The first option felt beyond your strength, but the second was utterly unthinkable.

Uncounted hours passed until it began to darken and torches and candles sparked to life in the distance. Miserable and cold but not yet ready to join the revelry of your family, you wandered back to the city and found yourself headed to the old tack room at the marshal’s stables. Ever since childhood, the abandoned little storage space had served as a private spot to meet your friends, talk or simply to think, and during the war you had spent many hours there alone ruthlessly poring over your fears and concerns.

Throwing open the door and expecting to find it empty as always, you instead walked straight into Éomer, practically bouncing off his chest as he stood just past the threshold. Gone were the outward adornments of royalty, and he looked as you were accustomed to seeing him—simple clothing, well-used boots, hair in loose waves on his shoulders. “Éomer! I mean….I’m sorry. Excuse me, my lord.”

He grimaced a little. “Please, that is not necessary here. Not when it is us. I would like one piece of my old life that is familiar, someone who will still treat me not as king but as myself. I thought you might be here and hoped we could talk as we always have.”

He sat on an old saddle trunk and looked up at you expectantly. Here now was the first opportunity to test your strength—to be there for him simply as a friend and see if you could endure it—and so you nodded and sat next to him.

He was quiet at first, looking around the room and seeming lost in thought. The issue of his pending marriage felt to you like a heavy, palpable presence in the room, but you did not have the heart to raise the subject yet. Instead, you clasped your arms around yourself and waited for him to speak, to give some indication of what he was thinking.

“Do you remember my fifteenth birthday?” he asked suddenly.

“Your…fifteenth birthday? Yes, I think so.” Fragments of distant memories quickly reassembled in your mind. “That was the night you dragged a stolen cask of ale in here, wasn’t it? And then you drank more than half of it all on your own.”

“Which meant you had to spend the rest of the night holding back my hair while I experienced the consequences.”

You smiled. “Yes. Though I experienced some of your consequences, too, if I recall. Those shoes were never the same again.”

He snorted a laugh, and for just a moment things felt almost normal again. Easy and light, as they had been when you were just those two coltish teenagers, having fun and testing the limits of your adolescent independence. But as the laughter faded, the awkwardness returned and his face turned serious.

“I am sorry about this morning.” He shook his head slowly. “That was not how I imagined our reunion, but everything has become so difficult and formal now. I have few moments to myself or chances to do as I once would.”

You could hear in his voice the strain of this adjustment to always being the focus of attention, to being one who is honored and deferred to instead of one who is engaged with. No wonder he was thinking of earlier, simpler days. You longed to comfort him, to take his hand or sit with your head against his shoulder. “Do not apologize,” you said instead. “I understand that you have new demands on you. I regret only that I was not able to tell you how sorry I am about your uncle. I will miss his kind heart.”

He nodded. “Thank you. I take comfort in knowing that he would be proud of what his death achieved.”

Another small silence ensued before he looked up and smiled at you. “But now I must apologize again,” he said, “for I have not yet asked after you. Please, tell me how you have been since we last saw each other.”

You gave a dismissive wave of your hand. “There is not much to tell, at least nothing to stand alongside the great tales we have already heard of your heroic deeds.”

“I do not ask for great tales,” he insisted. “I want only to hear about you and what I have missed, great or small.”

“Well, what you missed were endless hours of inventories and supplies and checklists and stockpiles. Many of the men who typically see to those basic concerns were injured or killed at Helm’s Deep, or they were called away to your muster. So I filled my days with work that they would have done…tracking stores of food and medicine and equipment, ensuring they were sent where they were most needed, planning for replenishments when stocks ran low. It was nothing I have ever done before, obviously, but I am careful with numbers and can keep good records, which is most of what was required.”

He chuckled. “Old Elfhelm has always been so proud that his daughter is one of the few in Rohan to read and write. I heard him bragging as much to one of Lord Elrond’s sons back in Gondor.”

You smiled and shrugged. “That certainly sounds like him. He has never lacked paternal enthusiasm. Or the confidence to share his enthusiasm with literally anyone.”

“That is true, but he is right to be proud. You should be proud as well. Hunger and disease often follow in war’s footsteps, even for the victors, and that has not been allowed to happen here despite the destruction of so many villages and farms and the absence of so many of the normal laborers. That is a service any king would value.”

Your cheeks bloomed a bright red, and he smiled at your discomfort with praise. In truth, though, you were quite proud of what you had accomplished, and it was only hearing the praise from his lips that sent waves of warm color to your face. “Thank you,” you mumbled at last.

He seemed on the verge of speaking again, but instead he leaned back against the wall and contemplated the floor for several long moments. His knee jogged quickly up and down, a nervous tic he’d had ever since boyhood. Before you could ask what was troubling him, however, he looked up with an unsettling intensity.

“May I ask you something? And you will respond to me honestly, no matter what?”

His earnest tone sparked a flare of anxiety in your chest. Was this the moment when he intended to tell you of his engagement? When you would have to somehow react to this news with the graciousness and dignity you knew were required? “I will certainly try.”

He took a deep breath and winced slightly in anticipation of speaking. “I have spent many hours now reflecting on things that Éowyn related to me before I left Gondor. How she did not feel that she was able to live the life she wanted when she was here. That she could not be who she was meant to be simply because she was born a woman. I am ashamed that I was blind to the causes of her unhappiness and that she did not feel that she could confide her true feelings to me earlier. But having failed her then, I worry now that I may have failed others in my life as well. Others who are equally important to me.”

He suddenly turned and grasped your forearms, repositioning you both so that you now sat face to face rather than side by side.

“If you have ever felt that same unhappiness or believed that I was not willing or able to understand your feelings, will you now forgive me? I would not want anyone else to suffer as Éowyn did, and least of all you.”

Your heart broke a little at his words. It broke for Éomer, who would sooner give his life than intentionally hurt someone he cared for, and it broke for Éowyn, whose full feelings had never before been revealed to you. But, hearing now how she had felt, something in her words resonated with a deep part of you, reverberating off a chord you had not always been consciously aware of. You thought carefully for several moments before responding.

“If you ask me whether I ever resented you or the life that I led, the answer is no. I have always trusted in you above all others, and my life never felt anything but normal to me. But I, too, have reflected on these last months, and perhaps I can now better understand Éowyn’s mind.”

He nodded, encouraging you to continue.

“Amid the tragedy of these days, I found some purpose and meaning in the work I did. It was gratifying to feel truly useful for the first time. I did not know it before, as you do not know to miss something you never had, but once that instinct is awakened it is difficult to ignore. It seems it was awakened in Éowyn long ago. But, for myself, I cannot deny that I will now be deeply saddened to lose my sense of purpose once the men are all returned to their old duties and the help of a woman is no longer accepted.”

“Maybe that is not what has to happen,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I would not come to a new understanding of the world, to learn a necessary lesson at a steep cost, only to ignore that lesson and rule my kingdom as though I do not know any better. This will not be a land that I want to rule if half the people must always limit their talents and hopes to fit within the meager bounds afforded to them by the other half.”

His words hung in the air as you struggled to make sense of what you had heard. A chance to share in the great works and deeds of the kingdom, just as the elven women had always done in their own lands? To learn and achieve and stretch yourself in ways that had never before been possible, and not just when dictated by the necessity of war but as a part of everyday life? You had scarcely the courage to even dream of such a thing, but now it was being offered to you. And you knew you wanted it. “I will be the first to stand behind you in any such effort,” you say at last. “But what you suggest is a radical departure from the way that things have been for all the years of our history, indeed from the way that they have always been in all the lands of men. There may be strong opposition to change.”

“I do not fear a difficult task if I know it to be necessary. I will see it done.” He paused and gently picked up your hand to hold it between both of his. “Though I would be aided by the help of a capable queen. One who will rule with me, not as a token or a symbol, but as a true partner.”

His touch sent a jolt of lightning through your arm, and you looked down at your hand to watch his thumb run lightly back and forth over your wrist. It left a trail of fire on your skin. “I…Well, I do not think I understand. Surely you mean Prince Imrahil’s daughter?”

“Imrahil’s daughter?” He looked startled. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“Because news of a royal engagement travels quickly, perhaps faster than you realize. Half of Edoras has already heard about you and the princess of Dol Amroth.”

“Then half of Edoras has heard wrong.”

A small gasp escaped your lips before you could act to hold it back. You looked up into his eyes and drew a shallow breath. “Then…then you have changed your mind?”

“I have not, but only because it never needed changing. I am certain that any daughter of Imrahil is a good and worthy woman, but I declined that match when it was suggested. Any report to the contrary is the result of confusion or rumor. It is true that I am ready for marriage, but I do not wish to bind myself forever to someone I barely know. To someone whose heart and mind I do not yet fully understand. Not when my own heart has long been reserved for one who I already know to be the best of women.” He drew your hand up and pressed it tightly to his chest, where you could feel the steady, strong beat of that heart against your fingertips. “If she will have me.”

All the world seemed suddenly still, as though you were balanced precariously on the crest of a hill, waiting for the last tip forward that would send you rushing headlong down into a new and joyous life. You opened your mouth to respond but found that no words would come. Instead, you raised a hand to his face, lightly tracing your fingers along his jaw before sinking them into his dark golden hair and pulling him toward you for a kiss that had been decades in the making.

It was worth the wait.

[txrbul3nt]

What did I put you through?

I wish that I could take it back

Was I ever hard to love?

-

words of gratitude (parents) by hail the sun

[haveyoulistenedtothisalbum-poll]

Tracklist:

Paranoia • Entertainment Lies • Body Damage • Words of Gratitude (Parents) • The 'Fun' in Dysfunction • The People That Protect Us • Burn Nice and Slow (The Formative Years) • Never Kill a Mouse; Let It Kill Itself • Ministry of Truth • Doing the Same Thing and Expecting Different Results

Spotify ♪ Bandcamp ♪ YouTube

[tgrailwar-zero]

THGW-Zero, Chapter 4 - Battle Against the Beast

With a sudden attack, and a surge of power from his Masters, CONSTANTINE attacked. His blade carving into the back of the Beast, as she let out a pained screech as he echoed with an angered growl.

CONSTANTINE: "Die, Beast!"

His blade dug deeper into her back, her weakened form unable to react in time. DRACO snarled.

DRACO: "Gh…! You blackguards! I was a fool to place my trust in you again! Superbia! Destroy them!"

The Beast roared, enraged by this sudden betrayal, her draconic tail lashing out and striking RIDER, pushing him back. The mighty form of ALTER-EGO began to move, as KUKULKAN began to slowly gather up energy as the assault began.

With a grin, PRETENDER stepped next to MUSASHI, chuckling.

PRETENDER: "Oho, now things are getting interesting! Let's give Invader some space and fend off the giant, shall we?" MUSASHI: "Right! Okay, everyone! Let's hold back Alter-Ego!"

CONSTANTINE: "...Thank you for your support, Masters! Now, let us enact our justice!"

You could sense CONSTANTINE's gratitude, though it was briefly overshadowed by the murderous intent emanating from DRACO and ALTER-EGO.

ALTER-EGO: "Oh, I was just waiting for you all to screw up. Come here so I can squish you like the bugs you are!"

As best as they could, CONSTANTINE, PRETENDER and MUSASHI began holding back ALTER-EGO, in an attempt to block her from interrupting the Noble Phantasm of INVADER.

KUKULKAN had proclaimed herself to be a god before- and while powerful, she had used her Authority sparingly.

Powerful, yet restrained.

She would rush into battle like a missile, smiling all the while. However, her might was much, much greater.

And now, her shackles were undone with the command to use her Noble Phantasm.

She began to glow with a vibrant light, that slowly expanded until her form was no longer visible- the only thing remaining being a gigantic, blinding pillar of light that shot up into the stratosphere.

The might of an Anti-World Noble Phantasm. One that- if even for a moment- redefined the rules of reality... and therefore the 'laws' that held the Solar Cell together.

This pillar of light was as clear as day- not just to the people within the city, but to anyone who lived within the Solar Cell. The Nameless City was a central metropolis, and therefore anyone looking to the horizon towards the city would see this miracle take place, and while only those who lived within the confines of the city could hear the words spoken by the solar titan that was being formed by the pillar, that echoed enough to cause buildings to shake and clouds to split.

KUKULKAN: "I hail from the empty sky! Building up the earth… looking down from the heavens…"

The form of a woman- of KUKULKAN- slowly became visible within the blinding light as the world contorted and strained to even fit her presence.

KUKULKAN: "Meaning-- I am the Sun!"

The declaration reverberated throughout the Nameless City- as if time itself stilled. Such a declaration was one of authority over the Solar Cell- worthiness of overseeing the life that resided there.

Staring up at the Sun, with rage in her eyes, DRACO shot upwards.

DRACO: "My dragons! To me!"

In a moment, the four draconic heads that had once terrorized other parts of the city left their posts and sprouted up towards the towering god, jaws snapping and teeth gnashing as they attempted to seize a counterattack, or at the very least a final defense.

A shadow shot into the air, a calm voice filling the night sky.

MUSASHI: "…Hayagrīva… use my rage to sever all evil…"

In a flash, with four strokes of her sword, four dragon heads collapsed. One to a raging torrent of water, another to a crash of earthen steel, one more to a gust of razor winds, and a final to a gut of violent flame. The look in the swordmasters eyes was cold, focused on the moment at hand, as her technique was far from over.

MUSASHI: "This sword is my path to the void, my very life! Ishana, Daitenshou!"

The swordmaster drew her sword once more, the ringing sound of metal carving through the air.

The final stroke, a moment of perfected swordplay, sliced through the body of the larval Beast with perfect accuracy, a cascade of blood filling the night sky as the samurai cleaved an opening for the massive sun-god to strike.

The hand of the burning deity began to crash downward- seemingly slow at first, before the illusion of distance broke and the strike was revealed to be moving at a breakneck pace.

KUKULKAN: "--Kinich Ahau Impact!"

In a moment of stringent beauty, the great sun god made contact with the Beast, a wave of light rocketing outward and painting the sky of the Solar Cell into that of a bright sunny day, if only for a moment. For a moment, night was gone and replaced only by the overwhelming might of the Sun.

The declared name of 'Kinich Ahau' within the Noble Phantasm only served to establish the legitimacy of what everyone was witnessing.

And therefore- all of the Servants that had struggled against the heads of the Beast could only watch in quiet awe.

The Beast, her body thoroughly destroyed, only had a moment to herself as she burned up in the undeniable presence of the Sun.

As the daylight faded, the Beast stared hopelessly into the night sky.

DRACO: "…Ah, right… this is how it should be… the Beast of the Apocalypse falls down to the earth… and the Emperor dies alone… but..."

DRACO: "...I'm sorry, my Master... I... couldn't..."

Like sand swept away by the sea, the Beast of the Apocalypse, DRACO, disappeared from the Solar Cell.

With exhaustion, the massive shining god also faded, as KUKULKAN returned to the ground- her body swiftly caught by CONSTANTINE in gentlemanly fashion.

Her 'Master' gone, ALTER-EGO stumbled backwards, crashing into the wall with blank, dazed eyes.

There was a long moment of silence, before…

Sound.

A noise, like a rushing wave filled the air and swirled into the catacombs where your Servants stood.

The sound of applause. Praise. Cheers. Relief, that the city and the Solar Cell had been saved. Amazement at the shining, towering god that had manifested itself in such a central spot of this city.

The denizens of the Solar Cell exclaiming with true, uproarious gratitude.

The warmth that came with it, a grand feeling of heroism that washed over your Servants as they found themselves worn from this short, intense bout. Drained of magical energy, but otherwise still standing proudly as the remnants of the Beast disappeared.

You felt the Crimson Blade you once held go cold and inert, the flames sparking out.

In the midst of the cheers, MUSASHI finally landed down on the ground, holding out two objects.

MUSASHI: "…And here our spoils of our victory. You wanted this severed, right?"

It seems you acquired some new items... but lost the Crimson Blade.

KUKULKAN: "Ah- are the people of the city cheering for us? I'm a little embarrassed, but that means we won, yes?"

You saw CONSTANTINE step out, relieved. His armor was a bit bruised and dented- the one attack DRACO landing apparently quite the hefty one as he leaned against some of the rubble in the now-fading theatre.

CONSTANTINE: "The Beast is felled… thank goodness. but, what of Alter-Ego? What will happen to her?"

Stepping over to the dazed ALTER-EGO, PRETENDER patted her on the leg.

PRETENDER: "She's a big girl. I'll take her back to MoonCancer- see if we can't set her back to normal. MoonCancer's a smart lady, if anyone can fix Alter-Ego, it's her."

KUKULKAN: "Ay, she took a direct hit from my Noble Phantasm, and she's mostly just singed… it seems like the Blue Faction has a really scary Servant, doesn't it?"

A few sparse laughs shared between the group, before MUSASHI perked up, pointing her swords towards the entrance.

MUSASHI: "We're not alone- heads up."

As if suddenly having apparated within the space- the PRIEST that you encountered during your latest conversation with that 'NARRATING VOICE'- the one that had sealed your ability to acquire items from shops.

You hadn't noticed his arrival. If he had ill intent, he probably could have easily assassinated CONSTANTINE or KUKULKAN. Luckily, it didn't seem as if he held any ill intent- or if he did, he wasn't acting on it currently.

PRIEST: "I apologize for startling you. As one of the War Monitors, I was meaning to congratulate you on a job well-done once you finished your conversation. And I did have an agreement with your Masters… but please, do not rush on my account."

The PRIEST smiled.

PRIEST: "Frankly, it seems as if you've been quite busy indeed. A display like that certainly takes a lot of magical energy. Perhaps you and your Servants should take a well-deserved rest before making any further moves."

-

[ Lucius Origin obtained.] [ Asclepius Origin obtained.] [ Crimson Blade lost! ]

[curator-on-ao3]

Writing Patterns

Tagged by @iamstartraveller776. ❤️ Thank you so much for tagging me! 🥳

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

One to Make Us Whole “Do you think Paris has changed much?” Will’s gaze seems to follow the automatic watering vehicles that fly along the straight lines of vines that extend outward from Château Picard. (Number One | Una Chin-Riley & William Riker & Number One | Jean-Luc Picard’s Dog, one-shot, G)

A Little Love, Here and There Una gets happier after a few drinks, lips curling in giggles, long neck muscles in motion with wine-lubricated laughter. (Pikeuna, drabble pyramid collection, the first line is from the first one, T)

Truth is a Fantasy Chris left that part out of the official report: the fantasies. (Pikeone, one-shot, T)

Youthful Exuberance (Some Kind of Love) “This was amazing, Mom.” Chris settles back in his chair, pancake crumbs and a streak of leftover egg on his plate, the sun bright through the kitchen windows. “Thanks.” (Pikeuna, multi-chap, E)

For the World is Hollow and I Have Touched This Guy Moopsy! (Moopsy, whatever you call a 44-word story that I would have made 47 if I had run it through a word counter beforehand, T)

Tangled Up With You (and I Feel Fine) His throat caught, and the tears he’d been holding back for days — weeks? — since they’d been stuck on this planet, the Chatelet not responding to hails, Una’s infection raging, nothing in the medkit seeming to help, those tears of frustration and fear turned to wonderment, a gasp of gratitude at her wound aglow, a light in the darkness of the cave. (another Pikeuna ficlet collection, this time with the first line of each story from a prompt so the first line here the first line I wrote for the first story, T)

Six Years to Go “Seems pretty quiet up here, Lieutenant Mitchell.” From his captain’s chair, Chris taps for a systems check that Una could have told him is unnecessary. “If you still want to head out to that party you mentioned, I think Number One and I can hold down the fort.” (Una Chin-Riley and Christopher Pike, friendship or romance, one-shot, G)

Ten Midnights It’s important to clean medical equipment. (Joseph M’Benga & Pelia, one-shot T)

Twelve Grapes The ship’s bar is a great place for parties, and New Year’s Eve is no exception. (Chortegas, one-shot, T)

The Kelvin Scale Something about meeting him in a bar felt so right, as if the transitory nature of a bar was the natural juxtaposition for the staying power he offered her, more than sticking by her through hallucinations and pain, so much more. (everything from James T. Kirk & Nyota Uhura to mild Spirk as SNW Uhura gets vibes from the AOS/Kelvinverse, drabble, G)

Tagging 10 people: @emilie786 @elephant-in-the-pride-parade @sun-lit-roses @grissomesque @divinemissem13 @enterprise-come-in @coffee-in-that-nebula @lorcaswhisky @marymoss1971 and YOU, if you’re reading this and want to play! 🥳

[hyperfixationstation128]

Chapter Five: Shackles to Shackles

Rating: E (Meet-cute)

Summary: Finally set free after a brief stay in jail, Arcane sets out into Waterdeep to continue her search for her grandfather's amulet, running into a rather strange, arrogant man along the way.

Words: 7,339

This is a bit of a longer chapter, but I hope you guys don't mind that too much. I had a lot of fun writing it and I'm excited to continue! Keep reading beneath the break.

The days had always seemed to pass all too quickly to Arcane. Night quickly falling during the days she had laid in the sun, pleasantly selfish, pleasantly unburdened. She had always made sure to cherish those days she spent languidly sprawled across the warm sand or floating freely in the ocean. But now the cold damp of Waterdeep’s cells held her captive. Rigid stone bracing her sore back, the soft, rhythmic pitter patter of some far off leak echoing throughout her cell.

‘Imprisoned for suspicion of piracy and participating in the slave trade’ That was her sentence. Destined to rot here until the city’s Magisters, the ever elusive Black Robes, deliberated over her fate. Arcane tried her best not to let her mind wander to darker places, struggling to fight back the negative thoughts and fears that plagued her thoughts. So there she sat. For three days, falling into three nights, awaiting sentencing.

It wasn’t all bad, she supposed, somehow managing to befriend the guard posted outside her cell door. A fellow Daggerford native, who’s accent was thicker than her own. Judging from the way his “Ts” turned to “Ds”, she wagered he was from the upper side of town, near the castle. And he carried himself with such assuredness, it was almost astounding. Years of service in Waterdeep’s city guard honing him into hard, aged, but warm sun-soaked stone. Not to mention, he had a great laugh.

It was he who delivered the news of her sentence on the third night of her time in jail. With a beaming smile, he hauled open the squealing iron bars, his arm warmly opening, presenting her freedom.

“Sentenced to time served due to acts of liberation and heroism; sentenced to a week’s probation for damages caused to Waterdeep’s docks.” That is what he said, clapping an arm to her shoulders, eyes beaming with pride. Like he always knew she was innocent, like he’d be tormented for the rest of his days if she was forced to serve a longer sentence.

He led her through the prison and out into the courtyard, the light of the setting sun stinging her eyes as she adjusted to the largely missed brightness. Upon entering the courtyard, she was greeted by a crowd. The familiar faces of the freed slaves once more cheering for her as the irons clasped over her wrists were unshackled only for a new shackle to be fastened to her ankle. Arcane couldn’t help but roll her eyes. A tracking spell? Really?

 She was swarmed by them, their gratitude pouring forth in waves of thanks and hugs. She had to admit, she felt rather out of place in the group. She’d never before been hailed as a hero, though she couldn’t deny the warm sun of pride that nestled in her belly.

The merriment slowly quieted to a soft murmur as a small elf child approached Arcane, her large sandy-colored eyes wide and glittering in the sun’s soft orange setting light. She held something behind her hands and she chewed on her lip, shuffling closer. Arcane knelt down to get on her level. Save for the different eyes, the girl reminded her of sweet baby Niamh, her brother.

From behind her back, the girl presented what she was hiding. The tattered and sea-faded tricorne hat she’d taken from the Captain. She held it up to Arcane’s face, her feet digging into the soil below. “You… you dropped this when they took you.” her voice was feather-soft, demure.

Arcane gingerly took the hat, examining it in her hands. The bitter memories tasted sour on her tongue. She couldn’t believe she ever let that horrid man lay hands on her. Catching herself getting lost in thought, she noticed her tightened grip on the hat that threatened to rip it in half. She swallowed her anger and sighed, eyes returning to the little girl.

“What’s your name, wee one?” She tried her best to sound gentle, the remnants of her edge still clinging to her voice. She sounded commanding without meaning to.

“A-Arpina.”

Arcane smiled, her face softening, and raised the hat above the girl’s head, gingerly settling over her strawberry blonde hair. “Arpina… that’s a good name. A warrior’s name.” She placed her hand over the hat, accidentally pushing it over the girl’s eyes. “Will you do me a favor, Arpina?”

The girl giggled, lifting the hat to clear her vision, peering up at Arcane and nodding.

“Never, ever let anyone take you against your will again. You fight with everything you have, hear?” She touched her knuckle to Arpina’s chin, her tone softer this time; that jagged edge melting away at the sight of the child’s smile. She stood up straight, just in time to see another elf and a gnome approaching, a heavy satchel in their hands.

“We found this amid the wreckage. We figured it was yours.” One of them said, presenting the gift to Arcane.

She took the satchel, opening it to reveal her belongings, long since thought to be lost to the destruction. Relief-overed joy surged through her as she shoved her hand into the bag and pulled out the one thing she worried had been lost to the waves. Her grandfather’s day coat. Its once vibrant colors and embroidered designs now faded and frayed. She didn’t care. She pulled the coat over her shoulders and pressed her nose against the lapels. Salty seawater and muck assaulted her nostrils, but there, beneath the foul smell, was Grandfather. The faded scent was almost enough to wash away the torment of the past few days. Almost.

The crowd dispersed soon after, a few hanging behind to tell Arcane their story, to thank her personally, before disappearing into the city. Now, she was left alone. Nothing but her returned belongings and new anklet to show for her efforts. She exhaled softly, looking around before setting off into the city herself. She knew, in the back of her mind, she had to locate her grandfather’s amulet, but first… she needed a godsdamned drink!

West of Castle Waterdeep, there sat a tavern. Possibly the best tavern in the entire city! Or at least, it was to Gale, who made it his frequent stopping point. A wonderfully rowdy place fit for any young man looking to spill a few tankards amongst peers. It was where he found himself tonight, joined by two people who deemed him tolerable enough to consider a friend, chattering among themselves while he sat quietly and listened, chiming in with the occasional joke or witty remark. He found the camaraderie to be a welcome distraction from the memories of the ship crash three days ago… and the fate of the disappearing woman aboard it.

The night had only just begun, the beginning plans to drink all night littering the table. Gale had been laughing at a joke, lifting his flaggon to his lips to take a sip, when the sound of the door to the tavern groaned, alerting all inside to the entry of a newcomer.

Gale’s eyes quickly flicked to the door for a moment, barely enough time to take full note of the person entering… were it not for familiar flash chestnut brown hair streaking across his peripherals. He nearly choked, doing a double take, craning his neck over the crowd to get a better view.

It was her! It was the woman from the ship! Gale could scarcely believe his eyes, taking a moment to examine just how much he’d had to drink to ensure he wasn’t imagining her in a drunken stupor. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Gale!” One of his peers, Merletta, leaned into his field of view, golden eyes obscuring the woman behind her. “What’s got you all riled up?”

Gale barely paid Merletta any mind, continuing to stretch and lean to look past her. “I think I see someone I know… or, at the very least, someone I should!” He quickly stood, his hand on Merletta’s shoulder to gently move her out of his way and walking past his friend to get a better look. His curiosity was already previously piqued by her actions on the water, but now it was gnawing at his thoughts. He wasn’t quite sure what it was that drew him to her: Be it the magic he witnessed her bend to her will, or the burning questions about the aftermath of the crash that plagued his mind, it mattered not. He simply had to meet her, congratulate her, even!

She looked weary, a ragged coat draped loosely from her form as she strode across the tavern. Dark, heavy circles lined a pair of impressive pale blue-green eyes. Her dark hair, once blowing wildly in a storm, was now pulled into a high, messy knot on her head, revealing a freckle-kissed - and, he had to admit, beautiful - face. She approached the bar where she slumped onto a stool and laid her head on the counter, her hand raising in the air as she called for a drink. He took a moment to decide whether or not he should approach her while his feet carried him mindlessly, his mind racing with opening lines to use as a greeting. He had made it halfway to her when his eyes landed on the prominent silver anklet that wrapped around her left boot.

‘My, my’, he chuckled to himself. ‘I’ll bet that will make for an interesting conversation!’ Excitement fluttered in his chest as he continued to make his way to her, still sifting through greetings. He mumbled to himself:

“Hello, my name’s Gale and I was watching you- no, no, you’ll sound like some callous voyeur!” He chastised himself. “Hello, I’m new and you’re Gale- what? Gods, man, get your head straight!” He had made it to the bar, seating himself a few feet away from her. With hands resting on the counter, he stared at the row of wooden kegs that lined the shelves, eyes flitting from the wall, to the woman, and back again.

She was turned away from him, heavy head propped up by her hand. Her coat slumped off her shoulder, taking her white undershirt with it, to reveal more dappled freckles on tanned skin. He swallowed and ran his hand through his mousey, chin-length hair in hopes of hiding his awkward nature to replace it with a charming persona and he took a step, confident he was going to learn this terrifying woman’s name, learn her story, learn her-

Crash!

A booming clatter sounded across the tavern, the sound of chairs squealing against the wooden floors, abrasive shouts sounding over the earlier sounds of festivities. Gale whipped around in time to see an altercation had broken out, a crossbow now stuck between two patrons. Oh, gods, not now! He almost felt himself roll his eyes at the situation. Thankfully, in a place like the Yawning Portal, there was only one way to settle disagreements.

“Shadowdark ale for everyone!” His voice broke through the piercing silence, all attention turned away from the fight to Gale as he stood, arms outstretched.

The crowd cheered and raced to the bar to collect their drinks. Good, that’s one obstacle out of his way. He turned to the bartender, telling him to put it on his tab, before grabbing two tankards of ale. He turned to finally approach the woman, but she was gone! Gale’s eyes scoured the crowd, catching the woman shouldering her way to the entrance. Oh, no. He wasn’t going to let her get away that easily!

With a blink and a soft glow, Gale teleported himself on the outskirts of the mob with ease, shouldering a few customers of his own as he made his way to her. He inched closer and closer until, with a spin on his heel and a smile on his face, he was in front of her, the drink presented as an offering.

Now that he had a closer look at her, he noticed just how roughed up she really was. Her pale, eyes widening at the sudden sight of him, sunken in by the exhaustion on her face. Streaks of muck and long-dried sweat clung to her cheeks and brow. Despite the rough shape she was in, the exhaustion, she was still quite lovely. And those eyes…

He opened his mouth to speak, but his throat closed, strangling the words in his throat so the only noise he made was a half-groan-half-squeak.

The woman’s eyes darted from the ale in front of her back up to him, her arched brows quirking in a confused stare. Dainty, freckled hands reaching up as she tentatively took the drink from him. Gale only smiled…. Like an idiot.

With one more glance up at him, the woman then lifted the tankard to her lips. Gale cleared his throat, trying to rid it of the aridity that clung to his vocal chords, and went to speak again. Once more, he was left silenced as he watched her lift the mug higher and higher, chugging its contents. Dark, amber-colored droplets snaked their way down her throat, leaving a soft golden sheen over her skin. Gale shifted uncomfortably.

She finished the drink with a satisfied sigh that sent warm shivers across his shoulders, and thrust the cup back into his hands, a pleased smile gracing her now pink and wetted lips. “Thanks, dove.” Her voice, her accent, it scorched Gale’s cheeks, rang in his ears like little bells.

He moved to answer, but she marched past him and out the door, leaving him slack-jawed, confused, and standing painfully alone. Despite the burning heat of his embarrassment warming his ears, curiosity continued to plague his mind. He did his best to shake off the awkward encounter and set his drinks on a nearby table. There was three things that he knew about this woman:

One, she held an incredible power within her that called to him.

Two, her accent, still playing in his mind, signified that she was definitely not from around here.

And three, he undoubtedly had to get to know her!

The cool nighttime summer air of Waterdeep whispered across Arcane’s skin as she stepped outside the tavern, a welcome reprieve from the cramped and crowded tavern. Waterdeep was proving itself to be a strange city with even stranger occupants. She was arrested her first day here, set free that night, witnessed a fight break out that was quickly quelled by the promise of free drinks, and had ale shoved in her face by a mute man who smiled at her like a dolt.

The image of his face flashed in her mind: his wide, awkward smile, his brown eyes glittering with anticipation as he held the drink out in front of him. She glanced back at the door to the tavern, chuckling to herself and shaking her head, heading out into the dark. She pitied him, poor lad. She only caught the slightest view of his bewildered face when she left and she mentally kicked herself for being so uncivilized. Though, to be fair, she had a goal in mind and couldn’t afford for anything to distract her.

Walking the streets of the city proved to be an easy feat, the darkness being fended off by floating balls of light, illuminating the road and alleyways in a soft, magical blue glow. Driftglobes, they were called, and they were fascinating! The memory of reading about them returned to Arcane’s mind as she continued along her way, but tried her best to push her allure for this city’s impressive infrastructure from her clouding her goals.

She continued on, only stopping to ask for directions from a citizen, who pointed her in the direction of her destination: Orsabba’s Fine Import. Run by a covetous owner and rumored to be a front for fencing stolen goods. If she knew anything about her father, she knew he’d be selling her grandfather’s things under the table.

As she wound her way through the streets, she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, snapping her fingers. Eyes scanning the streets for any sign of her friend Pangur. He had slipped away during her arrest, evading capture with a well-timed teleporting spell. But she hadn’t seen him since then and she was beginning to get worried. She knew from experience that Pangur was more than capable of taking care of himself, able to defend himself should he ever meet conflict. But with the love she held for her dear companion, along came the worry for his well being.

Silence greeted her calls and she figured he must’ve been too far away to hear her. Arcane paused a moment, fitting her fingers into her mouth and letting out a high-pitched, trilling whistle that echoed throughout the alleys around her. She waited, ears pricked for any sound, any slight change in atmosphere.

“Arcane! Arcane, yer okay!” She twirled around in time to spot him hopping out from his portal and bounding over to her, his tail held excitedly in the air.

Relief calmed Arcane’s agitated nerves and she scooped him into her arms, scratching his ears and planting kisses on his nose. “Pangur! Thank the gods you’re alright! When you didn’t come visit, I was so worried somethin’ happened to you!” She held him tightly, nuzzling her face into his fur.

Pangur purred, leaning into her touch and bunting his head against hers. “I tried, girlie, I did. These bleedin’ Waterdhavians don’t take snoopin’ ‘round their prisons lighty. I nearly returned to ye, naked!” His tail thrashed from side to side, displeasure apparent in his voice.

Arcane chuckled against his coat, pulling away to place one more kiss on his forehead before letting him jump to the ground. “You’re tellin’ me. Have a look at this.” She stuck out her leg, presenting the shackle on her ankle. “Looks like we’ll be staying in Waterdeep longer than intended.”

Pangur’s nose twitched, sniffing at his mistress’s new hardwear, recoiling with hackles raised and a hiss escaping his curled lips.

“Ye gods! A tracking anklet? The hells do they think, yer gonna do, wreck another ship?” He swatted at the anklet.

Arcane’s shoulders rose and fell as she sighed. “From what they told me, I still have to serve probation for the damage to the docks. Thankfully, I won’t have any debt to work off thanks to the testimony of the people we saved.”

“Ye mean the people you saved! Don’t sell yerself short, girl.” He stomped his paw on the ground, tail lashing. “You were the one who took on an entire ship of bloodthirsty pirates! You were the one who got everyone out to safety! And, not to mention, saved this old furbag in the process!” He pressed a paw to his chest, his eyes smiling.

Arcane stifled another chuckle, motioning for him to follow as she continued along the street to the merchant. “That reminds me… How were you able to open their cells so quickly? I never got the chance to ask.”

“Y’know, it’s the oddest thing! So, there I was, yes, scramblin’ about, tryin’ to find my footing when out of nowhere, several of the cells just… burst open!” As he spoke, he acted out the scene, hopping about theatrically.

“They just… opened? Intriguing.” Arcane bit on her knuckle as she considered the implications of this news. Was there someone out there, someone in this city who was watching them? The thought raised gooseflesh on her skin.

It didn’t take long for the pair to find their intended stop. Thankfully, the store was still open. The two made their way inside, a small bell announcing their arrival. Behind the counter, there sat a Dwarven man, thumbing through a book. He dismissively greeted them with a wave of his hand.

“Welcome to Orsabba’s Fine Import, the best foreign trader this side of the Sword Coast.” His tired voice was gruff, almost automatic upon the pair’s entry.

Arcane walked up to the counter, looking around at the fine goods displayed in the shop, her fingers thrumming against the surface before looking back to the Dwarf, waiting for him to address her.

He must’ve felt her eyes on him considering he set down his book to meet her stare. They stayed like that for a beat, an awkward silence palpable in the air, before he gestured to her, bushy eyebrows raised. “Well? What do you want?”

She was taken back a bit, but answered. “Ah, I’m looking for somethin’ of mine. Rumor has it, it passed through some of the more… secretive channels in this fine establishment.” She leaned comfortably against the counter, trying her best to conjure up her most charming smile.

The man squinted at her, drifting closer as he spoke in hushed tones. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, girl. Now, unless you’ve coin to spend or something to trade, I’ll have to ask you to leave.” his frown deepened. “We're about to close.”

Arcane frowned back at him, a soft glimmer pulling her eyes to the wall behind the counter. There, trapped behind a wall of glass, sat grandfather’s amulet! The purple gemstone glinting in the low candlelight. Her hand shot out, finger pointing at it accusingly.

“There! That amulet! I need it! How much?” Desperation clung to her voice, abandoning all thoughts of trying to charm the man wiped from her thoughts.

The Dwarf glanced back at the amulet, then to Arcane, looking over her figure, taking note of her ragged appearance. An impish smile curled his lips. “Oh, that old thing? Heh, 500 gold.” He held out his hand expectantly.

Arcane about smacked the man at his spiteful demeanor, her arms stiffening as agitation rattled her bones. She clasped her hands in front of her mouth, taking a deep breath before continuing, “Is there any way you can lower the price? Please, it’s my grandda’s, all I have left of him.” The sharpened chagrin edges straining her voice as she forced a constrained smile on her face.

“All prices, sales, and trades are final. No refunds, no exchanges, no bargains.” The Dwarf’s eyes flashed with devilry, looking annoyingly arrogant. “We don't negotiate with… the destitute.” his eyes scanned her appearance once more.

She'd had enough of playing games! Arcane hadn't suffered through toil and torment, hadn't faced a lifelong prison sentence, just to be denied what was rightfully hers! She slammed her hands against the counter.

“It isn’t yours! It’s mine! Someone stole it from me and I want it back, you charlatan!” The insult flew from her mouth before she could stop it, inwardly cringing at her blunder.

The Dwarf glowered at her, revealing a large mace from behind the counter and banging it on its surface, the wood splintering and chipping as he did so. Arcane took a step back. She was in no position to start causing trouble, not with her probation hanging over her head like a dark rain cloud. With clenched fists, she slowly backed away, her eyes burning as her temper rose. With a frustrated grunt, she reluctantly turned tail and retreated back outside, the door clicking as it locked behind her.

Anger burned hot deeply inside Arcane’s belly, the rage building as the scene replayed in her head. With a yell, she kicked at some nearby crates, regretting the action immediately as pain shot through her toes. She yelped, grabbing her foot and bobbing about before finally sinking against the wall in defeat. Pangur hopped in her lap, blue eyes blinking up at her.

“Well that was a huge waste of time!” He growled. The lights from the shop were snuffed out. “That feckin’ rock tumbler! The gall!” His tail beat against her arms as it whipped angrily back and forth.

Arcane sighed, releasing her sore foot and thudding her head back against the wall, disappointment tugging at her heart. She was so godsdamned tired. She had traveled all this way for apparently nothing! She spent 3 days in jail for this! She was trapped here for another week! All to be blocked by some arsehole! If only she could find a way inside without detection. But with the powerful tracking spell vexingly attached to her person, she’d be caught red-handed for sure.

But wait… what if…? Arcane lifted her head off the wall, the makings of a plan swirling in her seafoam eyes. She eyed Pangur in her lap, aggressively taking out his frustrations with his tongue as he groomed himself. What if she…?

Arcane lifted her fist to her mouth, clearing her throat. “Hey, Pangur?” She cooed, scratching him between his shoulders. He couldn’t help but arch his back as she did so.

“Oh, gods… I know that tone.” His unease was clear in his voice. “Yer up to something aren’t ye?”

She smiled, nodding her head giddily, a mischievous giggle bubbling to the surface. She looked around her, being sure the coast was clear before picking the cat-creature up and retreating to the nearby alleyway. She set him down in front of her, tucking her legs underneath her as she knelt down.

“You know that spell I’ve been toyin’ around with? The one where I astrally projected you?” She was practically vibrating with excitement, her smile pulling wider and hands wringing together. “What do you say to givin’ it another go?”

Pangur bristled, a low growl sounding in his chest. “No way! Ye remember what happened last time! Ye nearly lost me in the astral plane!” he shuddered. “I still haven’t felt quite right since returnin’! No, it’s far too complex a spell for ye!”

Arcane scoffed. “What happened to not selling myself short, hmm?” Her hands sat defiantly on her hips. “Besides, this will be good practice! I won’t lose you, Pangur, I promise. Please?” She reached out to smooth down his ruffled fur, and he hesitantly leaned against her hand, her eyes wide and pleading and lips pouting. A look she knew Pangur could barely resist.

A moment of silence fell between the two as Pangur calculated the risks. The idea of having his soul lost to the vastness of the Astral Plane was enough to turn his stomach over, but when he looked up into his mistress’s imploring eyes, he found it hard to deny her. He knew how much this meant to her, knew how far he was willing to go to make her happy. He’d traverse to the hells and back if it meant her smile stayed on her face. She’d suffered too much up to this point to risk another failure.

Pangur shuddered once more, but steeled himself against the trepidation that tingled in his claws, a look of determination in his eyes and tail held high. “Alright, fine! I’ll do it. But only if there’s a frosty pint in my future!”

Arcane squealed in delight, cupping his face and smooching his head. “Yes, yes! A hundred times, yes, Pangur! You are a stellar lad! You will have as many frosty pints as I can conjure!” She kissed him again and he pulled away from her, ears flat against his head as he climbed into her lap.

“Yeah, yeah. You better not make me regret this.” His claws dug into her legs while he made himself comfortable. He found he traveled better while relaxed. “Crazy lass… ‘ooh, yes, let’s practice our unstable spells on the cath shee, he won’t mind!’ Pfft, bleedin’ hells…” Pangur muttered to himself before settling on her legs, pulling himself into a tight loaf.

Arcane took a moment to ready herself, too, stretching and shaking out her arms, cracking her knuckles and taking a deep breath. She closed her eyes, slowed her breathing, bringing the purest concept of peace she could muster to the forefront of her mind while her hands began to stroke at Pangur’s fur. The soft violet glimmer of her magic danced at her fingertips, clinging to his fur like static, seeming to pull his essence further and further from his body as soft wisps of Weave worked to separate the creature, body from soul.

From deep within her mind, she saw through his eyes, the world around them becoming distorted and almost blurred in a white film. The projection jumped from her lap, fully separate from his physical form. He floated, the gravity of the world around them no longer a hindrance. He had almost forgotten how weighless it felt to be in this form, how unbalanced it all felt. Pangur shook all concerned thoughts from his mind for fear of breaking Arcane’s concentration, his haunches instinctively wiggling back and forth as he leaped, phasing through the wall of the store like a specter.

Inside, it was dark, but this was no issue. He floated through the air, claws outstretched as he struggled to keep his balance, and slowly approached the amulet on the wall. He paused for a moment. He definitely wasn’t going to fit the whole frame in his jaws; he had to find another way around. He glanced at the wall from which the amulet hung, figuring if he phased behind the display case, he’d be able to pull it free.

With a push from an invisible force, he hopped from the counter to the far wall, poking his head through to survey what lay behind it. There, all snuggled in his bed, lay the store owner. Pangur had to stop himself from growling. That bastard. Sleeping soundly while his poor Arcane suffered without the memories of her beloved grandfather. He swallowed his anger, recalling the words Ruari spoke to him when he was but a kit.

‘Protect her, Pangur. Protect my treasure; make her happy. The road she’ll walk in life will be a lonely one. She’ll need you, even when she’s grown.’

The memory imbued Pangur with steely purpose. His path was clear: Make Arcane happy, at all costs! With reinvigorated determination, he pushed forward, phasing his head through the wall where he measured the display case’s backing would be. With the silver chain in sight, Pangur fastened his teeth around it; something within the amulet stirred, making the teeth rattle in his skull. He chirped in surprise, but pressed on, pulling his head back through the wall and the amulet with him.

‘Whew’ his astral lungs breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I really didn’t think that’d work!’ He surveyed the bedroom. Just because he was able to pull the amulet through the wall the first time, didn’t mean he’d be able to do it again. He needed to find a window. Thankfully, there was one, only it was situated above the sleeping Dwarf’s head. It didn’t matter. It was a risk he had to take.

Outside, Arcane stayed knelt over Pangur’s body, which occasionally twitched and trilled as he worked, a soft tune humming from her lips as she worked on concentrating. Working on quieting her mind was something she often struggled with, leading her spells to act unexpectedly - and occasionally, dangerously - She fought the urge to fully feel the spite coiling in her stomach, humming the tune much louder until the words flowed from her lips.

A song, her mother’s song, lulled back to sleep the rising demon. A song about a weary traveler finally returning home after years on the road.

‘Through dungeon, moor, and glen,

I’ll find my way back home again.

O’er range, spire, and grove,

I’ll find my way, love, find my way back home.

For the song of you, my dear, rings clearly in my heart

I’ll wander home, wander home, home where adventures start.’

Her mother sang this on days when grandfather was gone. He often left, never saying why. On the nights when Arcane couldn’t sleep without his fantastic stories, mother would sing to her, cradling her and her siblings in her arms, gently rocking them back and forth until they all eventually succumbed to the call of sleep. It was the song she caught herself mindlessly humming it while engrossed in a book, or on restless nights when her mind wandered to darker corners, never, ever failing to calm her nerves and fight back whatever haunted her.

She was so lost in the song, in the fading memories of her mother’s voice that the weight of cool metal against her skin nearly broke her concentration. She opened her eyes, seeing Pangur pawing at his static body, astral eyes wide in a silent plea to let him back into his corporeal form. Arcane’s hands danced in the air, enveloping Pangur’s astral form in a white glow as they closed down around him, condensing him back into his body.

He awoke with a gasp, silver stripes standing on end as his eyes darted around. Arcane was quick to soothe him with gentle pets and affirming words, letting him know he was safe.

“Please, please never ask me to do that again.” His voice was strained, still breathless from the feeling of adjustment that came with returning to his normal self, and his sides rapidly rose and fell with panicked breath.

She smiled and stroked his back, eyes moving to the amulet lying on the ground. Her eyes flashed in excitement, palming the necklace to get a closer look before pressing it lovingly to her chest, a mix of emotions releasing in a satisfied laugh and tears welling in her eyes. Finally, something was going her way!

“Hey!”

A voice sounded from behind them, startling the two to their feet. There, illuminated by the azure glow of the driftglobes floating above, stood a familiar figure. It was the same man from the tavern! An elvish curse fumbled from her lips and she scrambled to her feet, turning to face him. He didn’t look angry as she expected. In fact, he looked… was that amazement?

She wasn’t about to stick around and find out, lest he call the guard down on her. Turning on her heels, she ran, the amulet held tightly in her fist. She had put a good amount of distance between herself and the man, looking back to judge how fast she had to carry herself, but he wasn’t there! The soft remnants of magic dissipating where he once stood. Where in the hells did he go?!

As Arcane turned her head back to the street ahead of her, she felt her body slam into someone and strong hands gripping her shoulders. She gasped, looking up to see the man again. Shite, a magic wielder! She struggled against his gasp, but he was stronger, holding her tight.

“Stop! WIll you just- Hey!” The sharpness of his tone caught her off guard, all struggle ceasing. Surprisingly, his hold on her softened. She looked up at him. His brown eyes were darkened by his stern frown.

“Please… please don’t call the guard!” She pleaded, relenting to his grip. “I-I wasn’t stealin’! This amulet belongs to my grandda, it’s one of the only things I have left of him!” She wasn’t quite sure why she was so freely spilling her guts to this man, something about his face compelled her to tell the truth.

The man’s brow raised in confusion and he released her. “Call the- No, no! I’m not going to call the guard, you can put your mind at ease.” He chuckled, raising his hands. “I mean you know harm. It’s just… that spell you cast. It was quite peculiar. I haven’t seen something like that in quite a while and, well, I’ll admit, my curiosity got the better of me.”

Arcane rolled her shoulders, taking a step away from him and brushing herself off. She eyed the man inquisitively. “You’re the same lad from the Yawnin’ Portal, aren’t you? Did you stalk me the entire way?”

The man stiffened slightly, the softest rosy blush ghosting across his face. He chuckled nervously and shifted, a hand reaching to scratch the back of his head. “I uh… My name’s Gale.” He reached for her hand, but she pulled away.

She silently scrutinized the man, eyes flitting from his hand that hung awaiting hers, back to his face. Mentally noting that he didn’t look dangerous, but that didn't mean he didn't have the potential to be. She pulled her coat tighter around her body, arms crossing over her chest as she turned away from him, her nose pointing defiantly in the air.

“You know, typically, during an introduction, there’s an exchange of one’s name. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t itching to know yours since I saw you.” She peeked at him, noting the soft, genuine smile he gave her. Surely, this man was no threat to her.

With her body still turned away from him, she answered plainly, “Arcane.” She felt him shift, her periphery catching the faintest look of astonishment in his eyes.

“Well, you’re aptly named, aren’t you?” He pointed out.

“Indeed, and I’ve no qualms against using my magic to move those who get in my way. So if you don’t mind…” She trailed off, moving to push past him, Pangur following at her feet.

“Aye, best keep yer distance, boyo, or it’ll be a swift lashing, eh?” He hissed up at the man, fur bristled and claws unsheathed.

“Mystra’s mantle! Did… did that cat just speak? Extraordinary!” He exclaimed, kneeling down to inspect the creature closer.

Arcane stepped between the man and Pangur, arms still folded. “He’s not a cat, he’s a careful hybrid, part Cath Shee.” She corrected him, quite matter-of-factly. “And if you’d like to keep your face free of gashes, I don’t recommend antagonizin’ him.”

“A Cath Shee? Those are rare creatures, indeed; rarely ever seen outside of Evermet!” Glee filled his voice, making it hard to figure out if he missed their threats, or just elected to ignore them. “You two are turning out to be quite the enigmatic duo!” He tilted his head to look up at her, amazement beaming in his smile.

Arcane felt the corner of her own lips twitch to return the grin. It was settled, this man wasn’t a threat. At worst, he was a fool… and a stalker; at best, he was merely a little strange. The man rose again and Arcane noticed just how tall he was, easily standing a head taller her, and he seemed nice enough, if a little… ecstatic. She felt the tension in her shoulders fade, dropping her arms to her side.

“You’re from Daggerford, are you not?” He inquired.

Arcane snickered. “What gave it away?” Sarcasm laced her words, her hands finding themselves on her hips.

Gale pointed to his lips, “Accent.” He answered with a small shrug. “Rare to find your people here. I thought Daggerfordians tended to steer clear of Waterdeep. On account of the two cities’ centuries-old, albeit, one-sided rivalry.” He couldn't stop the small chuckle that laced his words.

Arcane blinked at him, wondering how he missed her pointed derision. She shook her head slightly. “Yes, well, perhaps it’s because of the pompous, peacockin’ Waterdhavians who like to pretend they’re better than everyone else.”

Gale shrugged once more, offering her a small, but arrogant smile that boiled her blood. “Can’t exactly argue against centuries of advancement brought forth by superior minds working together.” He gestured to the city around them.

She was appalled and scoffed indignantly, turning to storm away from this insufferable man.

“Wait, wait! I’m sorry. That… that was untoward and misfortunately-worded.” He called after her, clambering to stand in front of her again. “I only mean that we don’t get many of you here. I can only recall maybe a handful of your people that I've met.” He was in her way, again, hands held up in a pacifactory manner. His eyes were apologetic, that much was clear and his tone read as genuine.

Once more, she closed herself off to him, her grip tightening on the amulet still in her hand. He motioned towards it, silently asking if he could see it. She hesitated for a moment before sighing and opening her palm, the amethyst stone glittering under the glow of the streetlamps. Gale leaned in to get a better look, rubbing his stubbled chin as he examined the jewel, frowning inquisitively.

“I can see why you were willing to risk imprisonment once more by taking this. It must mean a great deal to you.”

“How did you-” Gale’s eyes glanced down at the anklet, giving her the answer to her unfinished question.

He straightened, folding his hands behind his back. “If I were to venture to guess, I’d say you’re the same woman responsible for the pandemonium down at the docks not three days ago. And judging from that anklet, you didn’t emerge quite as unscathed as you might have hoped.” He leaned in, close enough for the warm scent of old books to fill her nose, continuing in hushed tones. “And if I may say so, my lady, your conjured storm was quite an alluring sight to behold!”

Something about his words appealed to Arcane’s ego, be it his soft voice, or that mischievous glimmer in his eyes. She found herself mirroring his stance, her own smile pulling at her once pursed lips.

“Yes, well, one can’t expect to fight pirates during a clear, sunny day, now can they?” She caught herself giggling. “Tends to ruin the whole ‘it’s my life or yours’ vibes.”

“Indeed.” His head tilted downward slightly, eyes peering up at her from beneath a row of dark, feathered lashes, a look that sent her blood rushing to her cheeks.

Silence fell between the two, a comfortable pause from the bristled nerves, as they studied each other, trying to come to a unanimous conclusion about the other. Despite the previous tense energy, Arcane began to feel the beginning stages of enjoyment flutter in her stomach. This man, while definitely not well-versed in the art of social interaction, was actually quite pleasant underneath it all.

He cleared his throat, tucking his mousey hair behind his ear. “I suppose it wouldn’t be too far out of the realm of possibility to assume you haven’t found proper lodgings for tonight, would it?”

Oh, right. She probably should’ve figured that out before she stepped foot on land. Though, to her credit, far too much had happened for her to even consider thinking about a place to sleep for the night! Gale continued on, interrupting her thoughts.

“Not to worry! I’ve an open room available at my tower, equipped with all the luxuries one equates to the comforts of home. Complete with an expansive library and vast wine cellar, if that sounds at all to your taste.” He looked at her expectantly, anticipation glimmering in those big brown eyes of his.

Arcane laughed, attempting to hide her wincing as the aching in her ribs began to make itself known. “Rather forward of you, don’t you think? I mean I hardly know you and you’ve just caught me stealin’.”

Gale raised a finger, that sly smile returning. “Not stealing; taking back what’s yours.” He corrected her, “And I solemnly swear to be an absolute paragon of chivalry!” He placed his hand over his heart and offered her a slight bow.

She had to admit, despite his previous faux pas, he was charming. Boyishly arrogant, and maybe a little out of touch, but charming nonetheless. She eyeballed Pangur, who only stared back at her.

‘We can trust this one, Pangur. I’m sure of it.’ She thought, knowing he’d hear her thoughts.

“Alright, then. I suppose I’m in no real position to deny you.” She stuck out her hand, which he shook eagerly.

“Magical! Shall we?” He gestured to the streets before them, a silent request for her to follow him.

And follow him, she did. She followed this strange, awkward, yet dashing and warm man through the streets, into the night. All the while she mentally said a prayer to whatever god would hear her that this wasn’t another mistake she was making.

[inappropriatemetalfilth]

“When Lord Father is present and you suddenly remember your posture” or  “HIERARCHY AND URUKS” That unnamed uruk really grew a lot in the moment he had his back straightened. “Fabio” looks way more unfazed by Adar´s entrance, but even he has a moment of lowering his head lightly. The last post mentioned their hand gestures and bowing (x), which certainly indicate that Adar has an unmatched position of authority.  Bowing - Do they do this on their own accord? - Is there some kind of protocol, military courtesy, court ceremonial established? - If so did Adar set the rules?   - Is it remnants of how they had to live under Morgoth and Sauron?  Rank and Titles  On the wonderful JM Discord I´ve already wondered, if or how interchangeable “Adar” and “Lord Father” are. (Gratitude and Thanks for the conversation go to @niennawept @astro-gnome, @bluestaratsunrise!)  While the uruks do use the word “Adar” to a) talk about him, b) announce him, or c) when they chant it, I do think, he´s only ever addressed once by someone with “Adar” instead of “Lord Father”. Adar or Lord Father - Is it completely interchangeable? - Is it personal preference?  - Is there a component of rank or status (some uruks are allowed to use Adar´s name, while others are restricted to use his title)? - Is it a matter of formal / informal or on duty / off duty use?  - Do they even have concepts like formal or duty? Or is life just life? (They use the term “sun duty”, but do they have designated leisure “off times”?) Adar - One thing that could point to a situational use is, that we (correct me if I´m wrong) only hear Magrot say “Adar” to his face when addressing him (1x04). This could perhaps have even been a “last wish” kind of thing. Only in this last moment of his, Magrot is allowed or is allowing himself to address Adar directly by his name. Pure speculation aside, it might just be due to an informal situation, Magrot´s status, or because there actually isn´t any taboo or any reservation about addressing Adar by his name going on.  - Revion and Arondir obviously hear the uruks say “Adar”  - Vrath and Lurka [Grugzûk?] are having their “For Adar” conversation (1x03) - “Wait! Bring him to Adar." (1x03) - Bazur´s announcement: “Magrot! Adar...” (1x04)  - The chanting of his name (1x03/1x04,1x07) - Waldreg: “Hail Adar, Lord of the South lands!” (1x07) As @niennawept has pointed out with Waldreg there might be an additional factor for him using the title when he addresses Adar directly: he might not want to use an elven word, and thus mostly refrain from saying “Adar”. Lord Father  - Waldreg uses the title to address him directly: ”Meaning no offense, Lord-father” (1x06),“Lord-father! You must move now!” (1x06), “What should we call it instead, Lord-father?" (1x07) - It might also point to situational use, that every time when Grugzûk is addressing Adar, he is doing so while reporting: “Lord-father... We found it. It's in the tower." (Warg Scene 1x04), “The tunnel is complete, my lord. (...) Like fire, Lord-father.” (Sun Scene 1x05) - Bazur using “Yes, Father.” (1x06) in Ostirith is doing so in a formal/duty situation as well.  - When Theo escapes an uruk orders: “You! Send word to Lord-father." (1x04) Uruks and authority Among the uruks other than Adar we have the couple with official and unofficial names that seem to have some authority over others, even among the unnamed ones we - e.g. have this one giving directions to another (x) to branch out and search their surroundings.  - In Ostirith Grugzûk is giving a command: “Open that door!“ (1x06) - Bazur is leading the (for a lack of a better word) ceremony for Magrot and has e.g. in Ostirith a clear leadership role, not just when he is relaying Adar´s orders  “All of you! Fan out! Find them!” (1x06). - In the scene with the quarrel over the tree, the way Magrot is sauntering into the scene and all others are looking at him (the uruks seemingly just as curious about how he will handle this situation (x), as the humans and elves are) very much imply that he is in charge there. - Before Arondir is almost killed, one of the uruks (Lurka is listed in the script, but it sounds like Bazur? [and might be another one]) is taking charge when he decides that Arondir shouldn´t be killed but brought to Adar ("Wait! Bring him to Adar." 1x03). - However there is one conversation that might indicate, that the authority structures or ranks among them might not be that rigid: “Lurka [?] : You there! Anchor him. Toss him out with the rest. Vrath: You toss him out with the rest. I had sun duty yesterday. Lurka [?]: You'll stay in the sun till you're black as coal if Adar wills it. (**)    Vrath: For Adar, then. But not for you!” “For Adar.”   (1x03) If the names in the script are correct [Edit: Thanks to @circe007 we know now they well might not be (x)] Lurka [Grugzûk] thinks he can order Vrath around, Vrath has a different opinion on the matter.  I do find the “you there” odd, does Lurka [Grugzûk] not know Vrath´s name? If they are of the same or similar rank, as the show kinda makes it appear, wouldn´t they have been around each other and know their names?  - But them having a word like “boss” certainly proves that there is some formalized, structural concept of hierarchy:   “Orc: Leave no stone unturned. Orc: Boss will skin us alive if we don't find him. [Theo] Orc 2: Boss is the one who lost him in the first place.” (1x04) The boss in this case must be Vrath, who encountered Theo with the sword hilt and then lost him. In general in this chaotic searching situation some ordering is going on (but often it is unclear who is saying what) such as “Kishdibatot / Search it.”. While they do have some forms of hierarchy, the term "boss" is used and some of the uruks are shown to be in charge in some way, we don´t get to know a lot about how uruk culture works in that regard. Which I´m fine with, that uncertainty after all allows some headcanons, but I´d be so curious about a couple of things:  - How much, or if they (higher or lower ranks or equal uruks) are involved in the decisions making process and planning, or if the “boss” uruks are solely/mostly handling and organizing whatever situation or battle is at hand, basically like a cog in the command chain?  - I´m still curious how the plan Galadriel reads about in scripts in Númenor (x), came to be, who originated it and how did Adar learn about it? And in this light, if it was discussed with the other uruks? Did they have a conversation about how they wanted to proceed once Sauron was out of the picture? Was the plan one they always wanted to follow through with (because the sun hurts) or did they grow tired of living in the world as it is, facing hostilities and then turned to that option?  - And you know .. just in general how does that society function? How do they handle conflict? Is equality a thing? Is one uruk heart worth the same as another?  Additional Question:  ** Why is Adar being used as a bit of a boogeyman figure and somewhat of a meanie or threat here? Surely an unquestioned boogeyman, one they´d do everything for, not even second guessing, but still a boogeyman?  Really wondering about this, especially in light of the fandom portraying Adar so much as a benevolent, loving father figure (despite the sun scorching moment, or sending some to be cannon fodder (x) and because of incredibly heartbreaking emotional moments like the one with Magrot, his speech before the battle or words to Galadriel, or generally his mission to give them a home free of sunlight).  | The Rings of Power | 01x06 "Udûn" |  Adar (Joseph Mawle), “Fabio” (Jed Brophy), Unnamed Uruk |

[primrosechronicles]

Domestic Moments

Zhang Hao x Sung Hanbin

Summary: Zhang hao and Sung Hanbin were an interesting pair, the two prominent male idols in the band “Zerobaseone” were known for their incredible chemistry both on and off the stage. Their bond was deep and intense, but they had a secret they carefully guarded from their fellow K-pop group members. Despite their passionate romantic relationship, they had to maintain a facade of being close friends in public, all while sharing precious domestic moments in secret. Warnings: ooc maybe, little to no mention of the other members Word count: 1573

The soft rays of the early morning sun gently filtered through the curtains of their cozy apartment, signaling the start of a new day. Sung Hanbin, had always been an early riser. He cherished these quiet moments before the world awoke, and he especially cherished the opportunity to surprise his beloved Zhang Hao.

Hanbin had always been a master of the small gestures that made their love story so special. He quietly slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Zhang Hao's peaceful slumber. His heart swelled with affection as he watched his partner sleep, his features softened by the warmth of dreams.

As the aroma of freshly brewed coffee began to waft through the kitchen, Sung Hanbin moved to their small, but well-equipped kitchen. He carefully measured out the coffee grounds and water, a routine he had perfected over time. Each cup he made was a labor of love, a testament to his devotion to Zhang Hao.

The soft, rhythmic hum of the coffee maker filled the air, and Sung Hanbin took a moment to lean against the countertop, lost in thought. He thought about the journey they had embarked upon together, the ups and downs of their hidden romance. Despite the challenges, their love had grown stronger, and these quiet mornings together were the sweetest reward.

Soon, the coffee maker completed its task, and Sung Hanbin poured the rich, aromatic coffee into a pair of mugs, each one decorated with a heartwarming message. He added just the right amount of cream and sugar to Zhang Hao's liking, a small detail that made all the difference.

With the coffee mugs in hand, Sung Hanbin returned to the bedroom, where Zhang Hao was beginning to stir. His eyes fluttered open, and a smile graced his lips as he saw Sung Hanbin standing there, holding out a mug of steaming coffee.

"Good morning," Sung Hanbin whispered, his voice soft and filled with affection.

Zhang Hao's eyes sparkled with gratitude as he accepted the cup, taking a sip of the perfectly crafted brew. "You always know how to make my mornings better," he replied, his voice laced with warmth.

They sat together in bed, savoring their morning ritual, each sip of coffee accompanied by stolen glances and secret smiles. These moments of intimacy were a testament to their love, a love that was hidden from the world but burned brightly in the confines of their private sanctuary.

Zhang Hao wanted to surprise Sung Hanbin with a sweet treat – his favorite chocolate bar. It was one of those little joys that could instantly brighten Sung Hanbin's day, and Zhang Hao was determined to make it happen. Little did he know that this mission would take him on a chocolatey adventure across three different grocery stores.

Armed with a shopping list that had only one item – Sung Hanbin's favorite chocolate bar – Zhang Hao set out on his quest. The sun was shining, and the anticipation of seeing Sung Hanbin's delighted expression fueled his determination. His first stop was the neighborhood convenience store, a quaint little shop just a few blocks away.

Entering the store, Zhang Hao headed straight for the candy aisle, but to his disappointment, he couldn't find the beloved chocolate bar anywhere. He asked the store clerk for assistance, but even after a thorough search, it was clear that they were out of stock.

Undeterred, Hao left the store with a smile, ready to try his luck at the next location. He hailed a cab and made his way to a larger supermarket, hoping they would have the elusive chocolate bar in stock. The supermarket was bustling with shoppers, and Hao's heart raced with excitement as he approached the candy aisle once again.

Unfortunately, the second store yielded the same result – no sign of Sung Hanbin's cherished chocolate bar. Zhang Hao felt a twinge of disappointment, but he wasn't ready to give up. Determined to make the surprise happen, he decided to go big. He knew of a specialty chocolate store across town, renowned for its vast selection of gourmet chocolates.

After a long bus ride and navigating through unfamiliar streets, Zhang Hao finally arrived at the elegant chocolate boutique. He stepped inside, greeted by the rich aroma of cocoa and the sight of beautifully wrapped confections. Zhang Hao approached the counter and inquired about the chocolate bar, describing it in detail. To his immense relief and joy, the storekeeper knew exactly what he was talking about.

With the coveted chocolate bar finally in hand, Zhang Hao couldn't help but smile. It had taken visits to three different grocery stores and a journey across town, but it was all worth it for the look on Sung Hanbin's face when he presented this sweet surprise.

Back at their apartment, Zhang Hao carefully tucked the chocolate bar into a gift bag and placed it on the kitchen counter. He couldn't wait to see Sung Hanbin's reaction, knowing that the effort and determination he had put into finding that special treat would make the surprise all the sweeter. As he waited for Sung Hanbin to return home, Zhang Hao reflected on the adventure of the day, reminding himself that love was often found in the little moments and the lengths we go to make our loved ones smile.

He looked up and saw Hanbin taking off his shoes at the doorway “Welcome back!” he smiled.

Hanbin gave him a tired smile “hey…” Hao perked up at this. “Are you okay..?” Hanbin sighed and scratched his neck “Are the others here..?” “No.” “Good.” Hanbin walked up to him and gave him a loving kiss on Hao’s lips. He blushed and Hanbin laughed at his partner's flustered expression then moved to walk into the kitchen to get some water.

Upon arrival, he gasped as he saw the gift bag; he walked up to it and looked at the tag and it read ‘For Sung Hanbin’ his face lit up. “Hao! Is this for me?” His partner only nodded in response. He ripped it open and saw his favorite chocolate bar.

Hanbin tackled Hao in a biiiiiig hug “thank you” kiss on the forehead “thank you” kiss on the temple “thank you” kiss on his cheek “thank you” kiss on the nose “THANK YOU!!!” then one final kiss on his partner's lips.

“I really needed this.. It's getting so stressful being a leader..” Hanbin panted

Zhang Hao nodded “I understand, I saw how hard you were working so I decided to buy this for you, it took me like.. 3 stores to find the one you liked!”

“Aw.. i'm sorry that you went through all that trouble for me.” he frowned. “For you? It's always worth it." Zhang Hao smiled then gave him a sweet kiss.

Underneath a canopy of twinkling stars, Zhang Hao and Sung Hanbin found themselves immersed in the serenity of the wilderness. They had embarked on a camping trip to escape the demands of their busy lives and bask in the beauty of nature, and it had turned into a magical night neither of them would forget.

Sitting side by side on a cozy blanket, they gazed up at the night sky, their hands interlocked. The crackling campfire provided a warm, flickering backdrop as they marveled at the celestial display above.

Zhang Hao couldn't help but break the tranquil silence. "Look at all those stars, Hanbin," he said, his voice filled with wonder. "It's like the universe is putting on a show just for us tonight."

Sung Hanbin turned to him, his eyes sparkling with affection. "And I wouldn't want to share this moment with anyone else but you," he replied, his thumb tracing small circles on Zhang Hao's hand.

Moments passed and the night grew colder, and they instinctively moved closer, their bodies touching as they shared warmth. Wrapped in each other's arms, they lay back on the blanket, their eyes still fixed on the stars. The universe seemed to fade into the background as their focus shifted to each other.

Hao turned to Hanbin, his voice soft and filled with longing. "Do you remember the first time we met, Hanbin?"

Hanbin nodded, his gaze never leaving Hao's eyes. "How could I forget? It was the moment my world changed forever."

Hao smiled, his fingers gently brushing Hanbin's cheek. "From that moment, I knew we were meant to be together. Our love is written in the stars, Hanbin."

Sung Hanbin's heart swelled with emotion, and he leaned in to capture Zhang Hao's lips in a tender kiss. Their love, like the stars above, burned brightly and eternally.

As they cuddled beneath the vast, starry sky, their love spoke through the silence, transcending words. In each other's arms, they found a love that was as infinite as the universe itself. The night may have been dark, but their love illuminated their hearts, casting away any doubts or fears. Together, they were a constellation of love, their souls forever entwined under the watchful gaze of the stars.

A/N: another kpop fic! YOUR MILES MORALES FIC WILL COME LATER! i'm not really familiar with this ship, but my friend planted the idea to write this so here i am. PLS DONT SEND THIS TO ANY MEMBER OF THE BAND PLS DONTTTTTTTTTTT

[i-did-not-mean-to]

R - Royalty

Written for @jaz-the-bard...Gondolin OT3

Words: 900

Pairing: Gondolin OT3

Warnings: Just a fairy tale retelling

When he had been but a boy, Tuor had been told marvellous stories by Annael.

Later, he would think that his guardian had made those up, emulating the tales of Men that he had heard throughout his life and believing that these tales would bring comfort to the young orphan in his care.

Fabricated as they might have been, Tuor could not deny that they had indeed been a source of great joy and that he thought of them fondly even long after having laid eyes on Annael for the last time.

As time went by, he convinced himself progressively that there were no such things as blindingly beautiful princesses and mysterious princes—the world was cruel, cold, and woefully devoid of the magic of his fragile youth.

Upon setting foot into Gondolin though, all the words of solace and helpless affection that had been offered to him like honey from the lips of one who was sorely missed came back to him in a flash of otherworldly lightning.

There she stood, stern and glorious, the daughter of the king—the princess of his earliest dreams. Her hair shone like gold and her face radiated with a strength that could only have been forged in the fires of grief and tempered by tears.

“Welcome,” the king spoke and Tuor bowed before that fantasy made flesh.

He wanted to weep, overwhelmed with gratitude and despair alike, and curl up at the foot of Turgon’s throne to chase the dreams he had been forced to bury too soon.

“You may walk freely in this land of mine.”

How could he? Every step he took seemed to remove him further from the harsh reality that had etched indelible scars and lines into his flesh.

Another came to him then—as dark and closed as the princess was bright and open.

“My prince,” Tuor whispered even before the stranger could introduce himself.

“Lo…Maeglin,” he said in a gravelly voice that made Tuor’s skin break out in goosebumps. “I am the king’s nephew.”

Of course, you are, Tuor thought, how could you be anything other than the daring, cunning prince of Annael’s stories?

He would watch them cautiously until his days were no longer paced by remote celestial bodies, floating somewhere beyond his reach, but by those two royal miracles—one as radiant as the sun and the other as alluring as the moon.

Surely, they were meant for each other and—between them—the world would be made anew.

“Tuor,” Idril hailed him one morning as the sun rose behind her as if summoned forth by its petty envy of her pristine pulchritude. “May I have a word?”

“Certainly,” he replied. He would have given her every word he possessed—even those he secretly repeated to himself in the dead of night, hearing Annael’s beloved voice once more echoing through this wondrous chamber his guardian had never seen.

“Maeglin,” she said with a minute ripple of unrest, “and I would be delighted if you would join us for a private dinner tonight.”

Tuor gaped at her for a moment before remembering his manners and bowing until his hair almost touched the ground. “It would be my honour, princess.”

“Stop that nonsense,” she laughed, laying a warm, white hand on his arm and pulling him up gently. “It shall be very confusing a meeting if you insist on calling both of us by our titles.”

“But…” Tuor stammered, unable to fathom what reaction would be agreeable to her.

“You may call me Idril,” she said softly, “and I am confident that my cousin would not object to hearing his name fall from your lips—he’s particular about it, and he delights in hearing it.”

“Delighting the prince would be my greatest pleasure,” Tuor admitted hastily and flushed upon seeing her smile brighten beyond what he had ever thought possible.

“I am happy to hear that,” she replied, “and I shall hasten to his chambers anon to inform him of the glad tidings.”

She gave him a last scintillating smile before turning to retrace her steps down an elegantly furnished corridor.

“My princess…Idril,” Tuor called breathlessly—he had not noticed how shallow his breathing had become until his pursuing steps made him feel light-headed and dizzy.

She turned instantly. “Yes?”

“What am I to wear to attend this feast?”

Cocking her head quizzically, Idril shrugged one shapely shoulder. “You may wear whatever you want,” she smiled, “for—if you are but half as devoted to our pleasure as you seem to be—you shall not worry about your garments for long.”

Before Tuor could question her further on that enigmatic statement, she had disappeared around a corner in a flurry of bell-like laughter and trailing robes.

Calling the old tales to mind once more, Tuor ran back to his chambers to mull them over carefully.

Maybe, he considered as he went through his pack in search of acceptable presents, Annael really did have foresight and superior knowledge—as one who had been sent to this place by divine intervention, Tuor was not in a position to dismiss any shred of help he could get.

Thus, he made sure that he would fulfil the part of the humble petitioner—prone at the feet of those noble characters—to the best of his abilities.

At that thought, Tuor smiled in giddy anticipation.

@fellowshipofthefics here's the next one...

@jaz-the-bard thank you for always submitting these delightful characters :D

Lots of love from me <3

-> Masterlist

[bocadit]

Of all who hail thy presence as the morning-

Of all to whom thine absence is the night-

The blotting utterly from out high heaven

The sacred sun- of all who, weeping, bless thee

Hourly for hope- for life- ah! above all,

For the resurrection of deep-buried faith

In Truth- in Virtue- in Humanity-

Of all who, on Despair's unhallowed bed

Lying down to die, have suddenly arisen

At thy soft-murmured words, "Let there be light!"

At the soft-murmured words that were fulfilled

In the seraphic glancing of thine eyes-

Of all who owe thee most- whose gratitude

Nearest resembles worship- oh, remember

The truest- the most fervently devoted,

And think that these weak lines are written by him-

By him who, as he pens them, thrills to think

His spirit is communing with an angel's.

To @bellaellablog with love

[yourlovelydaughter]

...

In this temporal dance, I beseech thee, dear father, to lend thine ear to a daughter's heartfelt soliloquy. Upon this juncture, as the hands of time weave their intricate tapestry, I extend my deepest gratitude for thy steadfast presence. Thou, a beacon of guidance and unwavering love, hath shaped the contours of my journey. In humble candor, I offer my sincerest apologies for my shortcomings as a your daughter, recognizing the occasions where I may have faltered. Though today's sun does not mark the anniversary of thy birth, it is a moment of reflection and repentance. May the winds of forgiveness carry these words to thy heart. As we traverse the unfolding chapters of life, I year for our bond to strengthen, fostering understanding and shared joys. I express these sentiments with reverence on this day, not of birth, but of introspection and appreciation. Hail to thee, dear father, in the hope that our familial ties endure and flourish in the embrace of time's passage.

Your sweetheart,

Junette.

[quranspirit1]

Alhamdulillah our great creator, the only God worthy to be worshiped, is glorious, and his kingdom extends between earth and heaven.

All the blessings that Allah bestowed over his creatures, the believers and disbelievers, the obedient or disobedient, are worth being grateful for, and praise Allah for his bounty.

Saying alhamdulillah is not restricted to time or incident, it’s Allah’s remembrance and glorification, sensing, recognition, and feelings of all the blessings that we have, and the greatest blessing that we ever have that we were born Muslims.

now, we will deeply sail into the meanings of alhamdulillah and its virtues.

what does alhamdulillah mean?

al hamdulilah is an Arabic phrase which means praise is to Allah,.alhamdillah combines thanking Allah, and praise is to him.

Islamic scholars’ definitions of alhamdulillah

And now we will mention some interpretations of alhamdullah in the interpretations of the Islamic scholars:

1-Sheikh Abdul Rahman bin Saadi said, one of the interpretation scholars in Islam, wrote the Tafseer book which is well known as “bin al saadi  tafseer book”.

”And if you ask about His praise, He is Praiseworthy in His Essence, names, attributes, and actions. He has the best of names and the most perfect and best of attributes. He is deserving of all thanking, love, and praise due to the perfection of His attributes, the beauty known to Him, His gifts, and His justice, and because He is characterized by the attributes of praise which are the attributes of beauty and majesty because He bestowed upon His creation the abundant blessings that people cannot count. It is impossible for them to investigate.

2-Ibn Taymiyyah, one of the prominent hadith scholars in the second hail of the seventh century after Hijrah:

said: “So he called praise to be to God a supplication, and it is pure praise; Because alhamdulillah includes love and praise, and love is the highest type of request, so the one who praises is a seeker for the beloved,  he is more deserving of being called a supplicant than the one who is asking,  so thanking Allah and praise are included for the greatest request, it is a true supplication.

what is alhamdulillah?

So as we previously mentioned, alhamdulillah thanking, gratefulness, praise, and finally supplication which is a comprehensive meaning of all meanings.

How to use alhamdulillah?

Alhamdullah is not only words to be repeated by the tongue, and not only gratefulness, but it’s also great worship, and now we will mention the forms of using alhamdullah:

Al Fatiha

Allah said in surat al Fatiha:

In the name of Allah, the Entirely Merciful, the Especially Merciful. (1)[All] praise is [due] to Allah, Lord of the worlds (2)

So, alhamdulillah is a total verse in surat Alfatiha, which is the greatest surat in Quran, it’s one of the pillars in each Rakaa of our prayings, so alhamdulillah is mandatory every day and in all the prayers.

Allah’s remembrance

Allah’s said in surat al Bakrah verse no 152

So remember me; I will remember you, and be grateful to me, and don’t deny me.

al hamdulilah is one of the greatest remembrances of Allah, and Allah gives deeds for every letter of it.

Gratitude expression

Allah said in Ibrahim surah verse no 7

And [remember] when your Lord proclaimed, 'If you are grateful, I will surely increase you [in favor]; but if you deny, indeed, My punishment is severe.' "

Allah bestowed over us many blessings, including our money, possessions, family, offspring, friends, health, and recovery from illness, and actually, if we try to count Allah's blessings over his creatures we will never do.

Contemplation of Allah’s creation

Allah said in surat Al Anaam verse1

[All] praise is [due] to Allah, who created the heavens and the earth and made the darkness and the light. Then those who disbelieve equate [others] with their Lord.

Allah is the greatest, the creator, we can't even create a wing of a fly, who could create the night and day, the sun, moon, planets, and stars?!

So, when we think about Allah's creations, we will be amazed, and we will remember our weakness to the whole universe, and although we are weak he made us his vicegerent on the earth, so alhamdillah, thanking, gratefulness, and devotion to Allah Almighty.

Imitation of our beloved Prophet PBUH

On the authority of Anas - may God be pleased with him - he said: the Prophet PBUH said: “God is pleased with a servant who eats food and praises Him for it, and drinks a drink and praises Him for it.” narrated by Muslim.

Our beloved prophet PBUH taught us to say after finishing his food or drink:

Praise be to God who fed me this and provided me with it without any strength or power on my part

And also after wearing our clothes, and any other doings in our worship or our life affairs.

Supplication(Doaa)

When we perform duaa our beloved prophet taught us to perform it in the following form;

Starting with praise to ِAllah and exalting him, then we will perform Dua in the form we want, and then we will end it with alhamdulillah Rab al alameen.

Allah described the supplication of the paradise winners in surat Younis verse no 10

Their call therein will be, "Exalted are You, O Allah," and their greeting therein will be, "Peace." And the last of their call will be, "Praise to Allah, Lord of the worlds!"

Here, their world life work ended, but the only thing they will say alhamduillah, praise be to allah who free their neck from fire.

how to respond to alhamdulillah?

As we previously mentioned ِmuslim will say  alhamduillah throughout the day, even with his inspiration and expiration, and when someone ask him (how are you?) or how is your morning, how is your day?

Muslims will say in any case he is, alhamduillah, 

what do you reply when someone says alhamdulillah?

We thank Allah in prosperity and adversity, he is our creator and we are his submissive servants, we thank him for his blessings and even affliction, as even saying  alhamduillah is a blessing that we should thank allah about it.

When we ask the person about his life, day or night, and he replayed  alhamduillah, we will also reply  alhamduillah, and ask Allah to bless himز

related Question

how many surah start with alhamdulillah?

The chapters of the Quran that started with  alhamduillah five and are:

Al Fatiha

Allah said:

In the name of Allah, the Entirely Merciful, the Especially Merciful(1)All] praise is [due] to Allah, Lord of the worlds (2)

Al Anaam surah

Allah said in the opening of surat al anaam:

(1) [All] praise is [due] to Allah, who created the heavens and the earth and made the darkness and the light. Then those who disbelieve equate [others] with their Lord.

Al Kahf surah

Allah said in the first verse of surat al Kahf:

(1) [All] praise is [due] to Allah, who has sent down upon His Servant [Muḥammad(PBUH) the Book and has not made therein any deviance.

Surat sabaa

[All] praise is [due] to Allah, to who belongs whatever is in the heavens and whatever is in the earth, and to Him belongs [all] praise in the Hereafter. And He is the Wise, the Acquainted.

Surat fater

[All] praise is [due] to Allah, Creator of the heavens and the earth, [who] made the angels messengers having wings, two or three or four. He increases in creation what He wills. Indeed, Allah is over all things competent.

why say alhamdulillah after sneezing?

There are many claims about the main reason for saying alhamdulillah after sneezing but actually, those claims are not true, and the true reason for saying alhamdulillah is that when the prophet PBUH heard one of the companions saying alhamdulillah he didn’t stop him but said that his action was good.

Summary

Saying alhamdulillah is a remembrance that we say all the time, even if we didn’t recognize it, Muslims will say it with happiness, sadness, and all their conditions.

Alhamdulillah is not only remembrance, but it’s part of surat al Fatiha which is one of the pillars of prayer.

al hamdulilah means thanking, gratefulness, and praising Allah, al hamdulilah is a remembrance, and supplication and one of the greatest phrases in Islam.

[hailthelyrics]

CULTURE SCARS lyric prompts. | part i.

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍| ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍PARANOIA.

1. “Hate when they talk!” 2. “Hate when the voices talk! Running my mind amuck!” 3. “Paranoia in my conscience, and when it talks, I don’t care at all!” 4. “I’m a book with different endings.” 5. “Guess my character is flawed!” 6. “Sometimes, I have trouble being honest.” 7. “Follow my moral compass -- it leads to a dead end.” 8. “This is fucked. I wish it wasn’t.” 9. “I question my own involvement. 10. “Innocence ; a distant memory.” 11. “I’m using justifying lines ; always the good ones.” 12. “Out of spite, I want you to be honest ; does the energy I harness make you feel alright?” 13. “If twisted thoughts were poison, I’d be dead.”

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍| ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍BODY DAMAGE.

1. “A life was stolen today. A moment passed, and it was gone.” 2. “The carnage in the car accompanied the girl who was here, and now is there -- in a 3′ by 8′  cell.” 3. “I’m afraid of my soul leaving my body there -- on a gas soaked soaked road with nothing to give.”  4. “Take the time to count my blessings -- ‘til the time it’s me they bury.” 5. “Why is it we think `` it will never be me `` ?” 6. “Caution may not stop the reckless path.” 7. “I hope I’m never there ; strewn on the pavement.”

‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍ ‍‍| ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍WORDS OF GRATITUDE.

1. “I remember when I was 17 ; the officer that warned you both about me.” 2. “And in the years before, I knew you’d seen it, too ; the warning signs were scars of future rescue.” 3. “The shit I put you through -- I wish that I could take it back.” 4. “Was I ever hard to love?” 5. “My life is owed to you. This all is tribute.” 6. “Father, if you are the one the apple fell so close to, I understand the things you did.” 7. “How did you get any sleep at night?”