#yes there will be singing about the dark times

[m00nchildwrites]

Random headcanons I have of the LADS guys:

I hope you guys enjoy this little head cannon post that I have about the guys. I'm going to put it under a read more just because it's quite long. It is no triggering content or adult content. All fluff all feels.

Enjoy.

Sylus:

Keeps journals. He has bookcases upon bookcases, filled with journals. All of them are leatherbound, but none of them match. Varying sizes and thicknesses various dark colors from maroon to dark green to black to golden and everything in between. All handwritten, all cursive with expensive ink dipped pens.

He also writes poetry that tends to be more prosy. Each of the poems are about you in some way, whether it's a memory or something about you that he misses or fears about the memories of you fading.

When he meets you again, the poems become hopeful and longing and eventually evolve back into love poems

Kioso tens to write song lyrics and unfortunately has performed one or two for you.

Yes, it's the thought that counts, but the poor man can't carry a tune. Still, the words are so sweet that you end up tearing up anyways.

And no matter how poorly he sings, you will never turn down him reading one of his poems to you or yes, even singing one of the songs that he wrote.

Zayne:

I see Zayne also as someone who keeps journals. Although his are different than Sylas'.

All of Zane's journals are on a singular, large, wall-to-wall bookshelf in his Home Office. All are perfectly identical. Each is sleek, a leatherbound, and either black or dark gray. Think like a moleskin journal, and if you weren't him, you wouldn't know which one is which, but he knows exactly which one is which, for he keeps them in chronological order.

Each of the pages is handwritten by pen in his slightly slanted, messy but legible doctor's handwriting.

Each starting from the first one on the top shelf details, everything that he can remember about 1 of yours and his pass lives together.

And rather, morbidly an excruciating detail heed. He writes out exactly how you died in the events leading up to and afterwards.

You might wonder why in the world does he do this? It's because he is studying every instance that went wrong and trying to find a loophole in a way out of the the curse that Astra has places upon you both.

In these journals, your name is never mentioned, and they are written out like case notes from his patients. So whenever you do stumble upon them, write them off. As simply him keeping detailed case notes of patient's life and death, since all of the deaths have to do with something with the heart or heart trauma, our heart disease or our heart failure of some kind.

It is not until either you regain your memories or zayn. Finally tells you about your past lives and his that you also learn the true story about the journals. Until then, they are simply a collection of case studies in his home office.

Rafayel:

Rafael has no need for journals because his memories he brings to life through his paintings.

Let's be honest.He also doesn't have the patience to sit down and fill up a bunch of journals. Not because his hyperactive persona is true, but because if he allows himself to sit still long. Enough with his thoughts, he gets real dark, real quick. This man wears a mask for the world, but also for himself.

That said he does sing.

Shocker, right? He's a mermaid or a siren or both. However, I have the head cannon that he can switch the siren thing on and off. And so is fully capable of simply singing, however, for him, because he is Lemurian, his "simple singing" is etherealy gorgeous.

Because of this, he only does it in the privacy of his own home when no one is around, except for that short little stint, that he had as an opera singer. But of course, that was for darker purposes and not for enjoyment.

He sings songs that he has written about you. All of them are in ancient tongues, long since passed and faded away to time. And all of them from the different lifetimes that he met you in.

Some songs he sings when he's feeling especially heartbroken and caught up in memories of the past, or overwhelmed with his feelings for you, and those songs are sung in his native tongue- Lemurian.

At first, whenever he is painting or in the zone, doing something and drifting off into a daydream, he hums around you.

Eventually, however, as he allows himself to trust that you're not going anywhere this time and uh relaxes his guard. Enough to allow himself to fall for you again and let you in. Eventually, one night when it's just the 2 of you and the windows are open and the ocean breeze is billowing the sheer, white curtains of his livingroom, the tune He's humming to you, as you lean back against his chest slowly begins to have words.

You don't know the words that he sang, they feel ancient.

But you feel the emotion in the words and by the end of it, you have tears running down your face and the overwhelming urge to hold him tightly and never let him go

The second time he sings for you is less heartbreaking and more warmth and an overwhelming feeling of love.

On days when it's just the two of you, he will sing just for you.

Xavier:

Xavier does not keep journals. However, he did enjoy his captain logs on his ship. And so that is a habit that he has kept with him.

Every once in a while, he will go back to a ship and and enter a new captain's log. All of it has to do with information about you and him trying to find a way to save you from the eventual Fate that awaits in the future on planet Philos.

Periodically a poem will also make an appearance one that he read in a book that stood out to him and reminded him of you.

Sometimes, before you two get close, he'd go to the ship and listen to his pass logs. And remember the you he left behind on that dying planet.

Xavier also sings, and he actually sings quite well for a human. So well, in fact, that one time karaoke with the hunters association, an agency attempted to scout him. (I picture his voice like Keshi- soft spot. If you haven't heard it, listen to it.)

This hidden talent comes as surprise to you. The first time that you hear him, add that karaoke event.

Of course. You knew that he enjoyed music because you often caught him humming when he was doing things around the house or helping you chop vegetables whenever y'all cook together. There was also his record collection that was a dead giveaway. As well.

He doesn't write songs for you, but he will sing songs to you. That make him think of you at first, it's subtle and without him really letting you know, but that's what he's doing. Perhaps you think the 2 of you are just playing around and both of you are singing songs that come on the radio. But eventually, as you get closer, it becomes clear, but it's not by chance- the songs that he picks to sing.

Your favorite is when he sings to you softly. As you rock back-and-forth, slow dancing in your apartment or his or on the balcony, the location doesn't matter.

Somehow, some way swaying softly to the sound of his voice feels like coming home after a long, long journey.

He does also occasionally read to you a poem.

And sometimes you find out the poem, he said aloud to you was actually written by him, and eventually you learn that they were all about you.

[etherealsworldvision]

Who is Your Next Friend & A Step to Connect.

Before I begin the reading I’d like to take a moment to talk about: GLAAD. They’re a non-profit organization advancing LGBTQ acceptance through fair, accurate, and inclusive representation through global, national, and local programs. If you’re interested do check them out and if you’d like to further support them click donate.

Divider Credits: @plutism & @kgymz

1. 2. 3.

🚨 P.S.A 🚨 : I do not give personal readings! Disclaimer: this is for entertainment only!

Added Description: all my readings are timeless and meant to reach those who resonate to the messages.

[ General Message: “In the clurb we all fam” - Broad City; 888; August; July; 55; royalty (aesthetic); Renaissance (fair); Windsor; Money; Materialism; Balance; Soon or Quick results; Receive Good News; Creative idea gaining recognition; Planting seeds with creativity; Understanding yourself; Acceptance of yourself; I Saw The TV Glow ]

Pile 1

[ Confirmation Messages: It takes time (to heal); Vulnerabilities; Speak; Soft-Spoken; Wanting to Hide Away; Taper - Maria BC; Strong-will; Loneliness; “Obscure”(?); Not wanting to be found; Running away as a coping mechanism; Sweet songs; Singing; Distance; Solitude; Spending time with animals; Lucky Star; Lucky Duck from Sixteen Wishes]

Cards: Justice; 10 of Swords; 10 of Cups ®; Strength; Star ®; 4 of Swords; 6 of Swords; 7 of wands ®; Queen of Swords

Your next friend

So this energy is kind of hard to pin down. Maybe this is yours or your next friend’s energy. They may be a past friend that drifted off? Either way this person is currently withdrawn and may want to be invisible. They may feel tired mentally and emotionally. This person might’ve lost some ambition or faith in what they’re working on? This grievance especially applies to their dreams towards a financial/material circumstance. They may have worked very hard on their goals only to find it “didn’t” pay off like they thought it would. Despite their situation they’re strong willed — they’ll find a way to get the ball rolling in their court. Yes they may have been hopeless but they still always find a way to balance it out. This may not be for everyone but they could be a coworker. They’re also very fair and balanced when it comes to their energy. They may also like the finer things in life but right now they may feel lost. This person may speak a lot. They may have a Gemini mercury/Jupiter-Mercury.

A step to connect

I get the feeling that constant and clear communication is a huge aspect in this friendship. When a problem arises it’s not you vs your friend but you and your friend vs the problem. Perhaps you two may have experienced the scarier side of confrontation/anger. I’m also getting the sense that you or this person dealt with some sort of resentment that shook your/this person's world. Overall you two may feel like things cannot be left unsaid and misunderstood. By having this clear communication everything balances and you two can get through stormy waters together. I’m also getting – even if there is a heated argument you two will feel safe because of communication and understanding both of your needs.

Friendship dynamic

Funny enough I thought of your dynamic as two captains on a pirate ship. You two work very well together, especially when it comes to goals and projects. I’m getting that one is especially good with strategy and the other executing the plans. You two may be opposites but for good reason — where one lacks the other can fill. It’s like guiding one another. Yes you two may be each other’s anchor when times get tough, but one of you can be the chain to pull them out of treacherous waters. It’s a very balanced dynamic.

Pile 2

[ Confirmation message: Pens; Specific/Particular; Stubborn; Wellness; Sun decor; “worry-wart”; Overachiever; Moon-Sun dynamic; Dark Colors; Moody; Brazil; Tropical weather; Roadtrip; Dirt road with colorful wooden signs; LGBT community; Summer Camp; Decoy-Paramore ]

Cards: 10 of Swords; Queen of Wands; 5 of Pentacles; Knight of Cups ® ; High Priestess ®; Queen of Swords; Ace of Wands; Ace of Cups; 3 of Cups; 6 of Pentacles

Your next friend

You may be meeting your next friend when they’re coming out of their shell. They might’ve hidden who they were or limited their self-expression in order to conform to their surroundings. However they somehow had a breakthrough? Or maybe they got tired of restrictions. Either way they’re embracing who they are and going on a self discovery moment. This is for a few of you, you may know this person already and noticed a difference which intrigued you. Overall I feel like this person left their true self behind only to reunite and make that bond with themselves even more stronger and brighter. Also they may be the life of the party even if they’re on the quieter side.

A step to connect

The very first thing I’m getting is: “let them come to you”. For some reason it just feels more “magical”? Besides that you may meet them through an online or in real life community. I also feel like this is a place where a lot of interactions take place. You may even be the one hosting the event and they take interest. Either way they will like the way you think and speak, how you conduct yourself when you communicate. There’s also this spark — like you just get along and your conversations bounce back to one another. This may sound a little annoying but this friend is gonna come “unannounced” like you won’t expect it cause you’re so busy with other things; hence they’ll be the one coming to you.

Friendship dynamic

Omg pile 2 this is so cute! Your friendship will be emotionally fulfilling and very balanced. Theirs an equal give and take. This also gives off a found family vibe. Like I get the feeling that (mainly) you or (maybe) this person will introduce each other to more people. There’s this feeling of expanding the friendship. This also feels like a summer (the season) dynamic. Like this friendship is so warming, eventful, fun and just overall wholesome.

Pile 3

[ Confirmation message: Cars; Wrist watch; Flaunt; High-strung; Crowd; Music Festival; Desert; Coachella; Disco; 24; Conversations about Reaching; Sleeve Tattoos; “Turnt”; 7 lives of Lea; Drinking; Party Invites; Secluded parties; Band; Secrets; Desires ]

Cards: 2 of wands ®, The Emperor ®, Strength, Page of Swords, Ace of Sword ®, King of Swords; Ace of Cups; 8 of Pentacles; Hierophant

Your next friend

Your next friend has dreams that they want to pursue but have trouble taking initiative or they aren’t in a place to take them. They give off Ismael from The Seven Lives of Lea vibe. They’re restricted by the outside world and they yearn so deeply to achieve their dreams as well as the love they deserve. This friend is very passionate and very “family/friend” oriented. They are someone who puts their all into their connection and dreams. And when they dream they include their friends as well. They give off the; if I eat we ALL eat vibe — this person has a generous heart but is not naive.

A step to connect

You may have connections or some knowledge connected to their goals. I get the feeling that you two have a bit of a different approach when it comes to goals but it’ll also help yours and their growth. You two may feed each other ideas as well as encourage them. These things may come in as a shock; let’s say you’re talking about coffee then the idea hits the two of you. It’s like an aha! Moment. Besides that you two kind of become a mentor to each other. Helping each other attain your goals by discussion. Think of things one of you didn’t ever think about and think outside of the box.

Friendship dynamic

Your friendship dynamic is very disciplined and encouraging. You both encourage each other to keep on going, to keep attaining that goal even if it’s for just a second. This dynamic is very inspiring and because you two are motivating each other it opens up an emotional bond that’s kind of new to you. It’s almost like you never experienced this type of platonic love. It’s like through being each other's motivators you became best friends? It’s like watching a sports movie and seeing the mc and coach hugging each other when they win.

[thyras]

→ in the beginning

PAIRING → mairon | sauron x female!elf!reader

WORD COUNT → 4.8k words

SERIES → of sauron & the moriquendi

WARNINGS → light stalking (sauron follows reader for a little while but it's more out of protection), love at first sight, longing, soulmates, reader has a name given to her, but otherwise there is no defining qualities mentioned.

SUMMARY → since the breaking of the first silence mairon has carried a great yearning, one he knows not why he is burden with, but the very song of his fëa longs to sing with his harmony.

AUTHORS NOTE → hi yes, remember how i said i was taking a break? welp i got inspiration to rewrite my dark!reader series. I'm so sorry for luminary fans but that behemoth of a final part is taking me longer than expected. i know the original was well liked but after my most recent reread of the silmarillion and morgoth's ring (hubby got me a really nice complete set for christmas) i have felt the need to rewrite the series, i hope you all enjoy this rollercoaster i am about to pull y'all on.

PARTS → two // three

In the earliest songs of creation, he stirred into being—a spark of light, pure and untainted, untouched by shadow or sorrow. He knew nothing of darkness, nor did he suspect its existence, for his fëa was alight with a yearning he could not name. A silent ache dwelled within him, an unformed desire, as if a fragment of his purpose waited to be discovered in the vast expanse of eternity. He could not say what it was, but he knew, with quiet certainty, that when it appeared, he would know it with the fullness of his being.

In the golden age after his awakening, he labored with devotion at the side of his master, Aulë the Great Smith. Together, they forged marvels that sang of beauty and purpose, his hands guided by the wisdom of the Vala. The craft was a joy to him, and in it, he learned to shape the raw, untamed matter of the world into works of perfection. Yet, in the still hours of twilight, when Aulë set down his tools or answered Manwë’s call to counsel, the Maia would remain in quiet solitude.

It was in those hours, under the silver gleam of the Great Lamps, that his hands turned to a secret labor. From silver of the purest ore, he shaped a ring of singular grace, its polished surface gleaming like starlight captured in a circle. He worked with a reverence as if the very act were a hymn, though he could not say to whom it was offered. With meticulous care, he inscribed the band with words he did not fully understand—delicate scripture that seemed to flow from the depths of his fëa, unbidden yet perfect.

This ring was not a trinket of vanity nor a gift for his master. No, it was meant for another—a being he had not yet met but whom his fëa somehow awaited. For though his fëa was yet unknowing, it whispered to him a single truth: one day, he would find the one who was worthy of it. And on that day, he would understand the longing that had lived in his fëa since the first song was sung.

When the first Quendi awoke, their voices rose in songs so wondrous that even the mightiest of the Valar paused to listen, captivated by their beauty. Mairon felt it then—a pull, deep and relentless, that resonated with the yearning he had carried for uncounted ages. It drew him to the light of Arda, a beacon that pierced the veils of eternity. Though he served his new master with steadfast devotion, he could not quell the melody that had been woven into his fëa before the first notes of creation were sung.

The darkness he bore now clung to him, muting the trees’ radiance and silencing the birds’ songs as he wandered the wide plains. Yet, even amidst shadow, the ancient call remained, a quiet fire within that neither time nor allegiance could extinguish.

Centuries ebbed and flowed as Mairon moved through the world, a silent watcher. Beneath the guise of vigilance, he observed the Quendi as they journeyed across Arda, their path illuminated by Oromë’s guiding light. Some tarried to build cities, their hearts content in the lands they shaped, while others chose the long road to Aman. Among these children of Ilúvatar, the Teleri caught his gaze. He marveled at their love for all living things and their pursuit of harmony and order, their craftsmanship a reflection of his own heart’s longings.

Yet it was the Nandor who stirred something deeper in him. They, who lingered in the wild places, untouched by the pull of Aman, kindled an ache within his fëa that he could neither name nor silence. Their bond with the earth and their quiet wisdom spoke to a part of him that his master’s will could never claim. Still, Mairon turned northward, his steps heavy as he crossed the vast lands to answer the summons of his lord and receive his next command.

The yearning remained, an unbroken thread binding him to the Quendi, whispering that the song of his fëa was not yet finished.

As your kin journeyed over Ered Luin into the lands of Beleriand, you chose not to follow them to the white shores of the Blessed Realm. While many of your kin heeded Finwë’s call and sought the light of Aman, you lingered by the River Gelion, enchanted by the beauty of Yavanna’s handiwork. The forests and streams became your sanctuary, and there you dwelt with a small gathering of your kindred, content in the splendor of Arda.

Your radiance became a legend, drawing elves alike from far and wide, each seeking your favor and offering you their devotion. Yet no hand offered nor heart professed ever stirred the longing within you, for the yearning in your fëa could not be quenched. It was bound to another, though you knew not whom.

As years turned to centuries, and the shadow of Elwë’s disappearance weighed heavy upon your people, your own heart grew burdened. When Olwë rose as lord and led your kin to the Blessed Realm, you remained behind, unwilling to forsake the lands that had become your solace. You wandered through the deep woods of Beleriand, each step driven by the quiet ache within, your fëa ever searching for that which it lacked.

And then, at last, the yearning stilled. In the shadowed glades of Beleriand, your fëa found its missing piece, and the song of your heart was made whole.

You found solace among a small gathering of your kin who welcomed you warmly into their town. There, you embraced the sacred art of nurturing and caring for expectant mothers and their newborn babes—a calling that resonated deeply within you. To bring a child into the beauty of this world was, to your kin, the highest honor, and it became your joy to guide others through that miraculous journey.

Beyond this cherished role, you devoted yourself to the teaching of the youngest among your kin. You filled their eager minds with the stories of old, tales woven with the wisdom you had gathered during your years by the River Gelion. With gentle care, you shared your knowledge of the beasts that roamed the wilds, the flowers that bloomed in secret places, and the songs of the birds that graced the skies. You saw it as your duty to nurture their minds as you did their spirits, ensuring that the mastery of your kin’s crafts and the love of Yavanna’s creations would live on through them.

His gaze never strayed far from you, his thoughts and fëa ensnared by emotions he could scarcely comprehend. Never before had he felt such a powerful pull toward another, and the depth of it both awed and unsettled him. One of Eru’s own creations had captivated him, and the long-unanswered melody within his fëa resonated with a new and unrelenting harmony. It was a song he had carried through all the ages of his immortality, now awakened by your presence.

From the shadows, he often watched as you wandered the glades, the smallest children trailing behind you like ducklings to their mother. You moved with a grace that seemed born of the stars themselves, your radiant beauty rivaling even that of Varda. Your hair, shimmering like woven light, danced and swayed in the gentle breezes of Arda. Your laughter rang like a melody, and the tales you wove for the children brought smiles and joy as boundless as the heavens above.

Though your face bore no trace of time, Mairon knew you had walked Arda for an age. He saw it in the way your spirit seemed to entwine with the land itself, your heart tethered to the soil beneath your feet. It was the same song, the same resonance that thrummed deep within the earth and called to him, a reflection of the unspoken bond between you.

Freed now from Melkor’s shadow, if only for a time, Mairon felt the pull of destiny. This was his chance, perhaps his only chance, to step forward and fulfill the yearning that had bound his fëa to yours since the first notes of creation. The time had come to give voice to the song that had sustained him through all his wandering.

He seized his moment when your little ducklings had scampered off, their joyous laughter fading into the distance as their mothers called them home for noontime meals. You lingered, as you often did, among the glades, speaking softly to Yavanna’s creations as if they were your oldest and dearest companions. You moved without fear in these woods, unlike some of your kin who shied from the shadows of the trees. You trusted the earth and its guardians to keep you safe. Yet even so, the tales of those who had vanished into the wilds, never to return, lingered in the corners of your mind, stirring unease in your heart.

Mairon’s watchful eyes followed your every motion as you settled amidst a patch of soft, pillowy moss. From your satchel, you pulled a small, well-worn book, its pages delicate with age. Gently, you tucked a strand of your shimmering hair behind a pointed ear, the sunlight catching its brilliance like woven silver. You appeared utterly at peace as you opened the book and began to read, your fingers tracing the lines of text with reverence.

He waited, silent and still, savoring the moment before finally stepping out from behind the tree where he had concealed himself. His movement was fluid and deliberate, each step a careful approach.

Your head jerked up at the sight of him, your book slipping from your fingers to the mossy ground as your breath caught in alarm. Mairon raised his hands in a gesture of peace, his expression warm and reassuring. He had no desire to frighten you, the being who had ensnared his fëa so entirely.

Your throat tightened as you gazed upon him, your bewilderment plain. He stood before you, radiant and otherworldly, his long fiery locks cascading over his shoulders like molten copper, his pale skin gleaming as if lit from within. His eyes, the greenest you had ever seen, glimmered with a depth that seemed to pierce through to your very soul. Every part of him seemed crafted for beauty, a vision to stir the heart.

Mairon hoped you found him pleasing, though he dared not speak it aloud. But the wonder and delight in your gaze was unmistakable, and in that instant, he knew he had not misstepped.

His presence sent a tremor of alarm through your mind, yet your heart stirred with the song that had been woven into your fëa since the moment of your creation. As your gaze met his, that ancient melody swelled, harmonizing with the light that radiated from him. He was unlike any you had ever seen, his very being seeming to illuminate the glade, driving back even the faintest trace of shadow.

The silence between you grew heavy, as if the very air waited for one of you to break it. At last, a smile touched his pillowy lips, gentle and warm, as if it had been meant for you alone.

“My apologies, my lady. I did not mean to startle you,” he said, his silvery voice like a melody that resonated deep within your chest. Though he kept his distance, his words pulled at something deep within you—a quiet yearning that longed for him to draw nearer, for you to step into the warmth of his radiant glow.

“A maiden such as you should not be wandering these glades alone,” he continued, his tone soft but tinged with something protective. A smile tugged at your lips, unbidden, and a soft sound, almost laughter, escaped you.

“I am hardly alone, stranger,” you replied, your voice steady but laced with quiet mirth. He took a deliberate step closer, his movements fluid yet restrained, and you fought the instinct to retreat. Despite the alluring glow that surrounded him, a subtle discord whispered beneath the melody in your fëa, a warning buried deep within the ancient song. He may have looked like kin, but there was something about him that set him apart, something just beyond your grasp.

“Then do tell, how is it that you are not alone?” he asked, his voice laced with curiosity, though his emerald gaze betrayed a knowing depth. “As I see it, you seem—”

You lifted your hand, palm outward, silencing him with the simplest of gestures.

“I am among great companions,” you replied, your voice steady with conviction. “Ones that a being such as you could scarcely comprehend.” Yet, as you looked into his eyes, you caught a flicker of understanding there, as though he did indeed know. Knew of Yavanna’s creations—the trees that stood watchful and wise, the beasts that roamed these glades, and the unseen spirits that hummed in harmony with the world.

You rose to your feet, closing the distance between you to meet his gaze head-on. “I appreciate your concern, stranger, but I am well taken care of.”

As you bent to retrieve your fallen book, he moved faster than you anticipated, his long fingers brushing against yours as he reached it first. The moment of contact sent a jolt through you, like the touch of fire upon brittle wood. The spark raced across your skin, igniting the song within you with a sudden, brilliant intensity.

You looked up, drawn once more to his piercing emerald eyes. They shimmered in the light of Arda, so vivid and captivating they seemed like one of Aulë’s finest works, forged to perfection. You felt yourself being pulled into his presence, the warmth of his aura enveloping you, making it impossible to step away. In that moment, the melody of your fëa harmonized with his, singing a truth you were only beginning to understand.

Mairon held your fallen book to his chest, his fingers curling around it as though it were a relic of immeasurable worth. He made no move to return it, prolonging the moment between you, savoring the connection that lingered like the fading notes of a song. His gaze roved over you, taking in every detail of the ethereal Moriquendi before him, as some of your kin might label you. But to him, such a term was a diminishment, a shadow of your true nature. You were no simple Moriquendi. You were something far more luminous, as though Varda herself had crafted you and set you apart from all others.

Your kin would never see it, he thought bitterly. They would never glimpse the depth of your spirit as he did. Where they saw simplicity, he saw the radiance of Eru’s design—pure, untouched, and untainted. You were the embodiment of the beauty his master so envied and sought to corrupt, the very perfection that Melkor had long desired to unmake. And though Mairon had once stood steadfastly in service of that will, here and now, he felt another destiny stirring within him.

You belonged to no Valar, no higher authority that could save you from the song that bound you both. Not Yavanna’s protective hand nor Oromë’s guidance could shield you, for you had been sung into the world in harmony with him. You, like Mairon, were forged with a brilliance that called to the shadow within his fëa, a duality that neither of you could deny.

His darkness ached to touch you, to weave itself into your being and make you truly his—a dark elven maiden of exquisite power and grace, unmatched in all of Arda. He could see it already: you walking in elegant glory, adorned by the subtle touch of his shadow, a reflection of the force that burned within him. And he, ever the craftsman, would follow you, a devoted silhouette in your light, bound to you as a shadow is to the earth. You would be his, as he was already yours, though you did not yet know it.

Or did you?

“I would like to be on my way,” your voice broke through the reverie that had ensnared him, pulling Mairon back to the present. You reached out for the book, your movements calm but insistent, yet he did not relinquish it. Instead, he held it firm, his gaze fixed on you as though he were trying to etch every detail of this moment into his memory.

Your frustration flickered to life, a soft huff escaping your lips as you glared up at him. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, unbidden, as the light of Arda seemed to amplify your radiance—the shimmering cascade of your hair, the sparkle in your eyes. Mairon’s thoughts wandered to forbidden places, to what it might feel like to touch the warmth of your skin, to trace the lines of beauty that seemed almost otherworldly. Yet he held himself back, unwilling to frighten you further. He wanted you near, not driven away.

With a quiet sigh and no small measure of reluctance, he loosened his grip and extended the book to you. His voice was low and smooth as he said, “My apologies, my love.”

You froze for a moment, your hand hovering near the book, your expression shifting into one of slight astonishment. Your brow arched, betraying your surprise at his choice of words. 

Mairon met your gaze steadily, his lips curving into a subtle, almost mischievous smile. “May I at least walk you back?” he asked, his tone softer now, almost deferential. “Let us grant the spirits of this glade their rest, unburdened by your watchful protection.”

You hesitated, your eyes searching his face, weighing his intent. The moment stretched between you like the silence before the first notes of a song. Finally, with a slow nod, you gestured for him to follow.

Mairon stepped in beside you, his movements unhurried, his presence watchful and steady. Though your posture remained wary, his heart swelled with satisfaction. The rhythm of your steps aligned, and as you walked together, he remained ever aware of the fragile connection that tethered him to your side, each moment more precious than the last.

The stranger’s company was unexpectedly pleasant, his words weaving an effortless balance between tales of substance and light conversation. He spoke of far-off lands, recounting adventures in the East where your kin had long traveled, and the forbidding horrors of the Northern realms, where no elf dared tread for fear of the consuming shadow that lingered there. His voice carried a melody that comforted you, even when the stories themselves were grim.

As the edge of your town came into view, you placed your hand lightly on his upper arm, halting his steps. A wave of sadness crept into your heart at the thought of parting with this stranger. His presence, though new, had brought you a sense of ease and intrigue that you hadn’t felt in many ages. He turned at your touch, his emerald eyes drifting down to where your hand rested. That warm, inexplicable tingle coursed up your arm like the gentle flow of a spring river. You felt heat rush to your cheeks as you realized your impropriety, quickly withdrawing your hand and letting it fall to your side.

But then, to your surprise, he caught your retreating fingers in his. Slowly, he brought them to his lips, his touch impossibly warm and reverent. The brush of his soft, pillowy lips sent your heart into a frenzy, and your face flushed deeper as embarrassment and an unspoken thrill warred within you.

“Before we part ways, may I ask the fair maiden’s name?” His voice was smooth, almost hesitant, as though he feared breaking the fragile moment between you.

You told him your birth name, and his lips curved into a smile that seemed to hold boundless reverence for the way your voice caressed the syllables. But then, you hesitated, your gaze flickering downward as you added softly, “Though my kin here have given me the name Mornelótë.”

His eyes brightened, their green depths gleaming with curiosity and appreciation. “Dark flower,” he murmured, the words escaping his lips like liquid silver, carrying a weight of awe. “Such a foreboding name for such an ethereal beauty. May I ask how you came to earn it?” The mention of your beauty to him once again caused your cheeks to flame, as your heart burned with a new found desire to know how this being above you felt under your fingertips.

Though it was short lived as your heart clenched at his question, and for a moment, you turned your face away, the old ache stirring within you. “I am a Moriquendi,” you said, your voice tinged with sorrow, as if the very word carried a heavy burden. It did—for though you had long accepted your path, the label still carried its sting.

“My kin are the Nandor,” you continued, glancing back at him to find his gaze locked onto you, unwavering and intent. “We turned away from the call of the Blessed Realm, choosing instead to remain in the glades and rivers of the Gelion. When our Lord disappeared, another rose in his place—a great ally of the Noldor—and many of my kin chose to follow him westward. But I did not.”

You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the delicate stitching of your gown as you gathered your thoughts. His silence encouraged you, his posture unshifting, as though every word you spoke was the most wonderous thing in all of Arda.

“I wandered the woods alone for a time, until I came upon the Vanyar. They were waiting for kin—kin lost to the shadow. I arrived on the very day they received news of their loss. They gave me the name Mornelótë, for they saw me as a dark omen. Some believed I was a spy for the shadow of the North.”

Your voice faltered briefly, the memory still sharp, before you lifted your gaze to meet his once more. “But time has passed, and they have come to see me as I am. I have earned their love and acceptance despite the weight of my name.”

The stranger watched you intently, his expression soft but alight with something you could not name. In his gaze, there was no judgment, no pity—only awe and something deeper, as though your story had sung directly to his fëa. It left you breathless, and you wondered, just for a moment, what it was that he saw when he looked at you so.

“It is only fair that I have shared my names. May I know yours?” you asked, your voice soft but steady as you held his gaze.

He inclined his head slightly, a faint smile brushing his lips. “Fair indeed,” he replied at last, his voice low and thoughtful. “I have borne many names, but the one I wish for you to know me by is…” He hesitated, a flicker of something crossing his expression—like shadows retreating before the light. When he spoke again, it was with a renewed clarity. “Mairon.”

You repeated it softly, testing the name on your lips. His eyes flicked to your mouth as you spoke, as though he were capturing the sound and holding it close. “The Admirable,” you continued, watching the way his expression shifted—first with pride, and then with something quieter, more solemn. “To earn such a name, you must surely be beloved by the spirits of this realm.”

“Hardly,” he murmured, and his voice carried a weight that made your brow furrow. There was something shadowed in his mood now, as if a great burden pressed upon him, one he had no wish to share.

“I am sorry if I have upset you,” you said quickly, but before the words could hang too long between you, he reached for your hand, his touch light but grounding. His thumb brushed over your fingers in reassurance.

“You have not,” he said gently, his voice firm yet kind. “There is nothing you could say that would upset me. For you speak as though you have walked among the glades and meadows of the Blessed Realm, as though you have gazed upon the light of the Trees and carried their warmth within your heart.”

He paused, his hand lifting slightly toward your face, but he hesitated, his movements slow, giving you the choice to accept or turn away. Yet something within you—something undeniable and ancient—compelled you to allow it. The harmony that sang between your two fëar was a melody you could not deny, your hearts now aligned in a rhythm as old as Arda itself.

As his hand finally touched your cheek, warmth spread across your skin, filling you with a sense of comfort and connection unlike any you had ever known. His touch was impossibly soft, like the finest silk woven by your kin’s hands. His scent, too, was distinct and intoxicating—a blend of burning forge, coal, and soot. It was raw and untamed, a match to the fiery aura that surrounded him, and yet there was a gentleness within him that made you yearn to draw closer.

This was what you had waited for, across endless ages—the moment Eru had sung into your fëa’s melody, the one that now bound you to him, the one that had finally come to fruition. It was beautiful, it was magical, and it was inevitable.

“You have a silvery tongue, my lord,” you said, your voice light with teasing as his thumb brushed gently across your cheekbone. A smile graced his lips, soft and knowing, as though he reveled in the playful accusation. “One I am certain has gotten you into no small amount of trouble with others.”

A low chuckle escaped him, the sound rich and intoxicating, lingering in the air between you. It was a melody that set your heart racing, and you wished to commit it to memory, fearing this might be the last time you would ever hear it.

Mairon’s fingers moved with a practiced grace as he tucked a stray strand of your shimmering hair behind your ear. The tips of his fingers grazed the sensitive point of your ear, and you shuddered at the unexpected sensation, a ripple of warmth cascading through you. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you fought against the sigh that threatened to escape your lips.

“Only with you shall my silvery tongue lead me into mischief, my dear Mornelótë,” he murmured, the words sliding from his lips with a charm that made your toes curl within your shoes. The sound of your name on his tongue was like a forbidden melody, and it brought with it a flood of thoughts that made your cheeks flush with heat.

You found yourself unwilling to end this moment, the question that hung between you both unspoken but palpable. Neither of you wished to voice it, to risk the rejection that might follow. Instead, you chose another path, one that might prolong his presence by your side.

“Our town has great need of a new smith,” you began, your voice hesitant yet steady, “after our last vanished some time ago.” You bit down on your bottom lip, your gaze locking with his, and the spark you had seen in his emerald eyes before flared anew. “Or,” you ventured, softer now, “if you wish, I could make you a meal before you continue on your journey?”

His thumb grazed your bottom lip, his touch lingering as he offered you another of those intoxicating smiles. It was a smile that sent your pulse fluttering, your very fëa seeming to hum in harmony with his presence.

“I have journeyed long,” he said, his voice deep and resonant, “and perhaps it is the will of the Valar that I settle among your people and take up my craft once more.” He leaned closer, his fiery aura brushing against you as his face neared yours. His hand lifted your chin gently, his touch warm and firm, his breath scented with spice and embers as it ghosted across your skin.

“If you will have me?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, his lips only inches from yours.

Your heart pounded furiously, your breath catching at the weight of his words. Of course, you would have him—how could you not? The thought of him remaining, of your fëar intertwining, filled you with a warmth so profound it nearly overwhelmed you. The possibility of one day binding yourselves to one another, of knowing the comfort of his eternal presence and the shared joy of a life together, was irresistible.

Mairon was your match, the harmony to your melody, the fire to your light. He was your beginning, your bonding element, and, perhaps, Eru’s true design for you.

[hugsandchaos]

Alexa, Play Mission Impossible

Summary: I wonder why Orbit was so insistent about Danny following him…

Extra Notes: I was honestly so proud of my last chapter, specifically the fight scene. Oh, I also had an extra set of eyes to help me out with this, so everyone please give thanks to the awesome @traumafactory28 for being my beta reader!

Word Count: 2,985

Orbit. They didn’t have a name before Danny gave them one. Most ghost blobs don’t, being able to recognize specific ghosts and other blobs from their ecto signature. It was nice, though. It was a nice sound, the word “Orbit”, and it felt oddly fitting for them. A name wasn’t the only thing Danny had given them, though. He also gave them protection.

It was only fair that they give him something in return. Besides, Danny is a halfa! He needs food! Not just human food, but also ectoplasm, like any other ghost. So when Orbit sensed some in the distance, he tried to lead Danny to it, but the halfa was stubborn about keeping up appearances and refused to go unless someone was in danger.

They should’ve nodded yes. In a way, he wouldn’t have been lying. Danny was in danger. Orbit was in danger.

Inside the backpack, it was mostly dark. The light of the fire was just barely a small orange glow from outside. Not that it was a problem, Orbit could see well in the dark just like all wisps. The problem was that they couldn’t tell how much time had passed since Danny rested his head on the bag or if he was asleep yet. Most of the contents of the bag -- the pajamas and the books -- were what held his head.

The rest, along with Orbit, didn’t feel the small weight, giving them hope that they could peek out of the bag without Danny feeling them move. They began wriggling their tiny body across the items. Danny had forgotten to close his bag all the way. Orbit silently thanked the Ancients for the halfa’s mistake as they crawled closer to the opening. They could see the faintest bit of moonlight on the grass, which meant it might be pretty high up by now.

The weight on the bag shifted. Orbit froze. They didn’t dare move. They waited until it had stopped moving, and then a while longer. Was Danny going to sleep? The weight had shifted to be more on the left side. Luckily, they were on the right side and had actually gained a bit more room to move with the change.

After a few minutes of waiting, they resumed crawling again. In a time span that felt both short and long, they finally made their way to the exit. They manipulated the ectoplasm that made up their body and stretched it out to better squeeze through the opening. Once they were out, they hovered just centimeters above the ground and turned themselves invisible.

Outside, the moon was now in its quarter phase and shone down on the ground from the near center of the sky. It was almost midnight. The crickets were still singing and chirping, and owls hooted from somewhere in the surrounding forest. Orbit’s eyes didn’t need much time adjusting. The backpack had blackened most of the light outside.

The wisp slowly floated around the backpack and peeked out from behind it. One of the hylians Orbit saw sleeping earlier was awake, and the one that had been awake now slept with the rest. The one that was awake wore the long blue scarf. What was his name? They couldn’t see them outside of the bag, but they did learn to recognize their voices and learn their names.

Whoever it was, they didn’t seem to notice them. They were distracted by their job looking over the rest. Orbit turned back around and spotted the thermos in the side pocket of the backpack. Perfect.

Orbit flew closer to the thermos and reached out, but hesitated before they grabbed it. They flew up a little higher, remaining invisible, and peeked over the bag. Danny was laying on his left side with his new bedroll. He had curled up a little, so it was hard to see his face and tell if he was asleep or not. Orbit flew over the bag to look at his face. Sure enough, his eyes were closed and his mouth hung slightly open as he snored quietly.

Good. He was asleep. Orbit flew back over to the thermos and grabbed at it. They slowly pulled it out to make as little noise as possible. After it was out, they used their powers to turn the thermos invisible and lifted it up as they flew higher. They picked a random direction, facing somewhere in the south, and sped off into the trees.

Orbit was small, but also very fast. Every ghost blob had to be fast, or they’d become somebody’s snack, and so it didn’t take long before they could no longer hear the campfire. They flew past an owl and over both animals and monsters. They flew higher into the canopy until they were above it and the trees looked like a lumpy blanket of soft green below. Up there, they noticed a glint of white light and turned to look at it.

It was a lake reflecting moonlight on the water. Orbit turned to the right and began heading towards it. The lake could act as a way to buy time for what they had in mind, and it was far enough from the group.

Once the forest turned into water below, Orbit dived down lower to the ground, or the surface of the water. As they grew closer to the other side of the lake, they noticed something on the coast. It was very faint, but as they approached, it became clearer. It was a pale white light. It looked like there was a shape behind it. Orbit began to feel uneasy and slowed down, but didn’t stop. The shape became clearer as they came closer.

Crud. Another poe.

This poe was smaller than the first one, the one still in the thermos, but was definitely just as dangerous. The worst part was that any attempts Orbit would make to sneak by it wouldn’t work. It was already looking right at them. It stood at the coast and swung its scythe out to try to cut them despite the large distance, but didn’t try to cross the water. It stayed out of the ripples’ reach even though there was still land to walk on. Was it scared of the water?

Orbit didn’t stop their approach, though. They only had so much time. They couldn’t waist any of it. This thing wasn’t going to get in their way. As a matter of fact, it might end up helping them.

The wisp picked up in speed again and flew over the poe. The poe levitated higher and narrowly missed them by a few inches. They shrieked in anger and turned around to follow them into the foliage. Orbit sprinted for a short distance before finding a spot on a fallen log and placed the thermos facing the roughly direction of the poe. They looked up to see it barreling after them through the branches, swinging its scythe wildly to cut its way through.

Their core buzzed as they watched the sickened ghost come closer and closer. Its teeth gnashed together, eager to crush Orbit and swallow them. The scythe cut through a branch thicker than Orbit’s body like it was paper. They took their eyes off for a split second to adjust the angle of the thermos so it was pointing directly at it. It was now racing towards them. It raised its scythe.

Orbit pressed the green button on the side of the thermos and warbled in alarm as the poe inside was shot out of the thermos, colliding with the other. Both of them screeched as they fell to the ground. The one underneath bit the other’s arm, earning a cry of pain from the one above it. Orbit grabbed the thermos and flew high into the air before either of them stopped fighting long enough to notice them.

Soon enough, the wisp was crossing the lake and mo longer heard the poes fighting. They looked up at the sky. The moon had moved a little and it was now either exactly midnight or a little after. They only had a few hours to complete their mission. If things went well, it’ll be more than enough time.

Flying over the forest and passing over the camp again, Orbit retuned to where Danny was with them earlier, when they first picked up on the “scent” of ectoplasm. As they expected, they found it while hovering near two trees that were growing a little too close together. They weren’t sure how Danny didn’t notice it. Maybe his ability to detect ectoplasm was weaker in his human form.

They started to follow it. They had to stop every once in a while to turn in different directions, trying to see which way the pull was stronger, before they could continue.

At one point, they stopped. The pull was now behind them. Orbit turned around and slowly went back the way they came, paying close attention to the pull as it slowly lessened. They scanned the area around them as they went. Suddenly, the pull was from behind again. Somewhere below. They stopped in their tracks and looked down at the forest floor.

A small green light glowed softly from between a couple of stones. Orbit turned intangible and flew through the stones, and there it was. A very large puddle of ectoplasm covered most of the stony floor of the cave. The wisp flew down quickly and placed the thermos on top of one of the few patches of dry stone, then dove into the green liquid with their mouth wide open.

The first gulp of ectoplasm was amazing. They weren’t absolutely starving for it, but that didn’t mean they weren’t hungry. It had been over three days after all, and even wisps like Orbit needed to eat ectoplasm at some point. They took a moment to eat, enjoying the feeling of their core being brought back to full strength, before they flew out and turned towards the thermos.

They picked it up and twisted it in their arms so that it was standing upright, then began twisting the lid off. They removed it and saw that it was completely empty, just as they’d hoped now that the poe was gone. They picked the thermos up again, once again holding it horizontally, and dipped it into the ectoplasm. Slowly, they dunk it further and further into the ectoplasm.

The thermos grew heavier Orbit and tilted slightly so that more would spill into the bottom. They only stopped when the thermos was nearly fully submerged in the ectoplasm. After a while, they lifted it up, now holding it by the rim of the top, and carefully carried it back to solid ground. After setting it down, they picked up the lid and twisted it back on.

Orbit picked the thermos up and flew up through the rocks, through the trees, and high into the sky. The moon was now noticeably past its midpoint. It had been over an hour since they released the poe and went searching for food. They looked back in the direction they came, thankful for their good memory and habit of mapping every direction they went in, and began rushing back to the camp.

By the time they finally got back, another hour had passed. Luckily, most of the group was still asleep, with the exception being the old man with the one working eye. He and Blue Scarf must’ve switched places at some point. Orbit kept themselves invisible and worked carefully to nudge the thermos back into the side pocket of Danny’s bag.

When they were halfway done, the halfa started moving and Orbit froze. They listened more than watched as he mostly moved his legs. They kicked at something in his dreams, but after a while, they stopped and he curled up. Unfortunately, the blanket had been kicked off while he was battling whatever enemy was in his mind. Before Orbit could try to pull it back over, they heard movement. Coming from the camp.

Orbit pulled away from the thermos and peeked around the backpack. The Old Man was coming over. The wisp didn’t need to hold back a startled noise, being silent when sensing potential danger was something they learned long ago. They watched him come closer and look down at Danny. He crouched down and reached a hand out for him.

Suddenly, Orbit’s core began buzzing with alarm and panic. What was he doing? Was he going to hurt him?! Was he reaching for his leg so he could drag him off somewhere?! Orbit quietly took in a deep breath and willed the ectoplasm holding them together to stretch out to make their mouth bigger, ready to let out an ear piercing shriek and drop the invisibility and bite into this man’s arm and--

Old Man reached over Danny and grabbed the blanket. He pulled it over the halfa, then stood back up and walked away, back to where the others lay around the fire. Orbit remained still for a few seconds before pulling themselves back together and hovered over Danny. The hylian had simply put the blanket back where it belong.

Orbit looked back at Old Man for a short while, relieved that he hadn’t done anything and a little confused why they reacted the way they did. They were sure this whole time that these people were nice and could be trusted, so why did they suddenly freak out like that when they saw him get close to Danny? Did they not trust them and didn’t realize it until now?

Whatever the reason, the sun would be up in a few hours. They needed to finish their mission. They looked down at the thermos, still halfway into the pocket, and went back down to finish. After getting it all the way into the pocket, they slipped back into the backpack and made themselves comfortable laying on top of the pajamas Danny had packed. They closed their eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep.

Orbit was promptly woken up by their body being moved and squished between the bag and the clothes. They squeaked in surprise, but it was cut off and muffled by the sudden movements. They blinked and wriggled their body between the two walls until they were on top, all the while the world around them seemed to bounce. They looked around and soon realized what was going on. The bag had been lifted up and was now in the usual up-and-down motion.

The wisp calmed down and folded their arms in front of their body. They knew what was going to happen next. They just needed to wait a little longer. It was still really dark outside, but Orbit thought they could see a hint of light. Either it was the sun just barely coming up or Danny’s flashlight. They couldn’t really tell.

After a minute or two of walking, the bag was placed down somewhere.

“Was it unzipped the whole time?” Danny asked. The zipper was pulled over Orbit’s head and the wisp looked up to see Danny looking down at them.”Hey, buddy. Was the zipper open a little the whole night?” He asked in a hushed tone.

Orbit moved half their body up and down in a nod and flew out of the bag. The sky was in the late Blue Hour and there were hints of yellow past the trees, but there wasn’t a whole lot of light. The main source of light was from the flashlight from Danny’s phone. They flew down to where the thermos was and pulled it out of the pocket.

“What are you doing?” Danny asked nervously. Orbit flew down to the ground and set the thermos down. They grabbed the top of the thermos and twisted the top off.”Wait! Don’t--… open it? Where’s the poe?” Danny whispered. He knelt down and set the phone down on the ground.

The light from the flashlight vanished, and all there was now was the very little blue light coming down through the trees, the glow of Orbit’s body, and the ectoplasm in the thermos. He picked the thermos up with a hand and looked at it confused.”Where did this come from?” He asked. Orbit flew up to be at eye level with him and quietly trilled.

“You got some?” Danny asked. Orbit nodded and chirped.“Drink it?” He questioned. Orbit moved half his body up and down in another nod. Danny’s face scrunched up in slight repulsion, but did as they said and took a sip of the ectoplasm. The change happened almost immediately.

The young halfa’s eyes widened and he started drinking more and more as he seemed to realize that he’d been hungrier than he originally thought. Orbit actually started to worry that he’d drink too fast and choke on it. Humans were more prone to that accident than ghosts and it was potentially more dangerous.

Luckily, Danny stopped. Orbit peeked at the ectoplasm. It was still largely full, but had lowered an inch, or two, maybe. He let out a small breath. The relief coming from him now was nice.

“Wow. You were right.” Danny said. He took one more sip, then twisted the thermos shut. He smiled at Orbit.”Where did you even find this?” He asked.

“Hey, Danny! Come on, it’s my turn to spar with you!” Wind called out.

Danny jolted and turned towards the camp.”One second!” He shouted back. He turned to Orbit.”I don’t know where you got this, but thank you. I didn’t know I needed this.” He whispered. Orbit pressed their body against the side of Danny’s face and purred before flying back into the backpack and leaving Danny to do what he needed to do.

Danny now had his fill of ectoplasm and half of a full stomach. Their job was done, for now.

[doc42]

King Dany

Ever since A Dance With Dragons was new the fandom has been whining about Daenerys' struggle to rule in Meereen and how it proves GRRM must've been trying to show Daenerys is unfit to rule through depicting those struggles. Yet it is playing on the motifs from the most ancient origin of fantasy and GRRM's pre-Tolkien Boyshit sword and sorcery influence, Conan the Barbarian and his very first story about how he became Conan the King. It is a fundamental part of the Conan mythology and chronology that, after ages of wandering, Conan becomes king in the west and, after making his kingdom prosperous, goes back to wandering the world once more.

"Prospero," said the man at the table, "these matters of statecraft weary me as all the fighting I have done never did." "All part of the game, Conan," answered the dark-eyed Poitainian. "You are king—you must play the part." "I wish I might ride with you to Nemedia," said Conan enviously. "It seems ages since I had a horse between my knees—but Publius says that affairs in the city require my presence. Curse him! "When I overthrew the old dynasty," he continued, speaking with the easy familiarity which existed only between the Poitainian and himself, "it was easy enough, though it seemed bitter hard at the time. Looking back now over the wild path I followed, all those days of toil, intrigue, slaughter and tribulation seem like a dream. "I did not dream far enough, Prospero. When King Numedides lay dead at my feet and I tore the crown from his gory head and set it on my own, I had reached the ultimate border of my dreams. I had prepared myself to take the crown, not to hold it. In the old free days all I wanted was a sharp sword and a straight path to my enemies. Now no paths are straight and my sword is useless. "When I overthrew Numedides, then I was the Liberator—now they spit at my shadow. They have put a statue of that swine in the temple of Mitra, and people go and wail before it, hailing it as the holy effigy of a saintly monarch who was done to death by a red-handed barbarian. When I led her armies to victory as a mercenary, Aquilonia overlooked the fact that I was a foreigner, but now she can not forgive me. "Now in Mitra's temple there come to burn incense to Numedides' memory, men whom his hangmen maimed and blinded, men whose sons died in his dungeons, whose wives and daughters were dragged into his seraglio. The fickle fools!" "Rinaldo is largely responsible," answered Prospero, drawing up his sword-belt another notch. "He sings songs that make men mad. Hang him in his jester's garb to the highest tower in the city. Let him make rimes for the vultures." Conan shook his lion head. "No, Prospero, he's beyond my reach. A great poet is greater than any king. His songs are mightier than my scepter; for he has near ripped the heart from my breast when he chose to sing for me. I shall die and be forgotten, but Rinaldo's songs will live for ever. "No, Prospero," the king continued, a somber look of doubt shadowing his eyes, "there is something hidden, some undercurrent of which we are not aware. I sense it as in my youth I sensed the tiger hidden in the tall grass. There is a nameless unrest throughout the kingdom. I am like a hunter who crouches by his small fire amid the forest, and hears stealthy feet padding in the darkness, and almost sees the glimmer of burning eyes. If I could but come to grips with something tangible, that I could cleave with my sword! I tell you, it's not by chance that the Picts have of late so fiercely assailed the frontiers, so that the Bossonians have called for aid to beat them back. I should have ridden with the troops."

"And Dion thinks that crown will be given to him?" "Yes. The fat fool claims it by reason of a trace of royal blood. Conan makes a bad mistake in letting men live who still boast descent from the old dynasty, from which he tore the crown of Aquilonia. "Volmana wishes to be reinstated in royal favor as he was under the old regime, so that he may lift his poverty-ridden estates to their former grandeur. Gromel hates Pallantides, commander of the Black Dragons, and desires the command of the whole army, with all the stubbornness of the Bossonian. Alone of us all, Rinaldo has no personal ambition. He sees in Conan a red-handed, rough-footed barbarian who came out of the north to plunder a civilized land. He idealizes the king whom Conan killed to get the crown, remembering only that he occasionally patronized the arts, and forgetting the evils of his reign, and he is making the people forget. Already they openly sing The Lament for the King in which Rinaldo lauds the sainted villain and denounces Conan as 'that black-hearted savage from the abyss'. Conan laughs, but the people snarl."

[jewishcissiekj]

The Stark Hyperspace War arc is so good I've gotta reread some Star Wars 1998/republic arcs

[onewomancitadel]

I think on the joy of storytelling. I genuinely don't know who I'd be, or how I'd get through my life, without it. It is basically the essence of existence. Imagine that we get to spend time on Earth and do this no matter where or when we are.

[aimfor-theheart]

cielo !! im sorry you had a bad day, i hope it gets better soon. we’re all cheering you on !❣️

the other day i took a pic of this young stag as he was feasting on apples from a fallen tree. he was so beautiful and surprisingly gentle, it almost made me cry just admiring him i saw a man so beautiful i almost started crying?

somethin somethin.. finding the will to keep going ! life is still full of wonder if you keep your head up 🥰 sending you lots of love and good vibes ✨

friend this is beautiful 🥺💕

oh to be a beautiful wild stag eating apples from a felled tree with a set of lovely, large arching antlers atop my noble head.

this is an incredible picture!! and an incredible moment you had!! i don’t blame you for tearing up!!

i really appreciate you sharing this photo and moment with me!! 💕 it makes me so ☹️💕 in the best way like my heart is full!!

and you are right—life IS full of wonder even when it’s hard. and i am nothing if not a stubborn scrappy fighter!! i have much fury for this life yet, don’t you worry.

and i appreciate your support!! your love and well wishes!! i am sending them right back at you 💕💕

i hope you see many more gentle and lovely stags in your future 💕

[girlsharpenedtoapoint]

about the dark times....

the air smells like ozone; an old plump man smokes outside his trim-fenced lawn, and a jaunty radio-fizzled tune plays from somewhere unreachable. it’s been sunny for weeks; the soil of my limbic system was dry and compact. the temperature has only dropped ten degrees, but my once-functioning brain has muddied from the rain. somehow, this single incident hits harder than when my mind was a constant soup of worms and sticks. there is a strange muted light in only ever having bad days; when you’re caught in a thunderstorm, do you even notice more rain?

i slept far too long last night (and dreamed of singing sweets) and somehow not at all. i spent the whole of the night trying not to think, which did not work; i have spent today trying to think, and that’s not working either! frankly, i feel conspired against. the man’s smoke curls in the air, mingling with the scent of rain, creating a very specific sort of cocktail. his presence is a bit of a contrast to my internal tempest—i am often struck with the wide astonishment that we exist inside ourselves. that he can smoke there, slow in his stolen moment, and i can think here mired in murk and malaise. and neither of us ooze or overlap into one another. we are only stardust shoved into skinsuits, we are the universe experiencing itself, and our shared origins make it impossible to not share at least one glance. it is a miracle that, that is our only correspondence.

the tune from the distant radio—a cheerful melody in defiance of my mood—sounds less like a cruel joke, and more like an offer. its notes reach me as if from a different universe, a place where things make sense and light penetrates through the clouds. i wonder if this feeling will ever lift or if it will continue to pull me under, deeper and deeper, until i am nothing but a faint echo of who i once was. for now, all i can do is sit here, drenched and exhausted, waiting for the rain to pass or for the strength to rise again, to fight through the mire and find some semblance of the world that seems so effortlessly just beyond reach.

it’s not the storm that hurts me really, i have always been fond of rain, but the sudden and brutal reminder of how easily i can be pulled under. despite any previous semblance of clarity. though this rain is a bit more mocking than usual... practically spitting onto my window.

yet, though i crave for release from this pit, there is something to be said for 'the lure of the deep.' it’s easy to cloak yourself in your failure and let the sadness and suffering become all you are. it’s tempting to wear your flaws like a label because that way, you aren’t surprised when they come together to put on a show. it’s certainly easier than trying to overcome them, because if you want to learn to swim, you first have to accept that you cannot.

i could shut myself in my room, refuse to see or talk with anyone who is not necessary. i could let the world go on with its business somewhere far away from me and wait as the feeling of sunlight on my skin fossilizes into memory. when everybody knows you’re angry and bitter and that you have no interest in making things better for yourself, they leave you to it—and if you never try, there’s no way you can disappoint. ah but, these are just musings, i'm learning to have 'bad days' without letting them seep into 'bad weeks' and 'bad months' and—well you get the point. though my spotify shuffle doth seem intent on maintaining mine melancholy, i adore thee radiohead but a curse upon thee, domini corporati!

lucidity is, of course, always shy in its return. i feel like i am drowning, but not with the sense of urgency one typically associates with such a thing. more a thick descent in some swamp, less an overwhelming ocean. it’s a resigned sort of oxygen loss. there is no tip off a cliff, or great summation. but rather the stickiness of sloth grinds itself into my gears limb by limb, so that when i do notice it's like i have always sort of known. 'when did the music stop?' i can feel the pressure of that dark, dank water on top of me, pressing me down and slowing every movement and thought i have. my mind is filled with a heavy fog, and time moves slowly, like blood oozing from an old, putrefying wound. i feel myself hazing out of life, devolving into a sick, sad creature best pushed to the background and forgotten about. i behest my brain to not give into such whims!

anyway, today my grandmother relocated a spider in her car instead of killing it. and today my little brother started my favourite childhood book series. and today i will resolve to follow these things back toward the blindingly sunny days. because that is what sigma (fe)males do!

[radio-4-is-static]

WONDER BOY'S AKUMU CLUB - Yojiro Noda

[bigbuffjoonie]

SCREAMS

Okay now that I’m more normal, this fic was so thrilling! Going through the mountain pass I was holding my breath too! The feeling of dread just building up until The Splashes just -chef kiss-!! Loved everything about this and I cannot wait to see pt 2! 💕

The Obsidian Pearl (I)

— pairing: mermaid seokjin x (f) reader — word count: 7.2k — warnings: yandere, descriptions of death/blood/violence — summary: Sailing through The Dead Man’s Passage is a death sentence and the whole crew knows it. But with the ship’s stocks dwindling fast, your captain is left with no other choice. When a haunting melody makes the crew jump ship one by one, you find yourself alone with the demon lurking in the murky red water. As the creature beckons you to jump into the icy ocean – “come to me, pet” – you find that you can’t do anything but obey.

“Captain, this is a bad idea.”

A hush falls over the deck, a few whispers being passed back and forth between the crew as they watch you challenge the captain’s decision. There’s an audible gulp somewhere behind you as the captain pins you with a hard gaze, his jaw clenched tight with annoyance.

He taps the map that’s spread out in front of him, voice leaving no room for argument as he says, “This is the fastest route.”

“That may be, Captain, but it’s not worth the risk. Haven’t you heard the stories? The numerous crews that have gone missing after sailing in this area? There’s a reason it’s called The Dead Man’s passage!”

Keep reading

[picketsignonthecorner]

Running Orders // Lena Khalid Tuffaha

[starry-bi-sky]

FUNNIEST fucking shit that comes with making Danny eleven years old when he had his accident in "late at night, when the nightingale sings" is the implication following, that everything that happened in the show did too. And I fully intend on (mostly) keeping it like that. There'll be some changes (of which I need to figure out) but for the most part??? Yeah relatively the same.

Like I FULLY intend on keeping Dark Danny occurring 6 months post accident. Do you know how fucking HILARIOUS that is??? That Dan got his ass kicked by a goddamn FIFTH-SIXTH GRADER?? I'd never show my face ever again. Homeboy spent the last ten years being a one-man mass extinction event, only to get his ass beat by a kid who hasn't even lost his last baby tooth. That's hysterical. I'm losing my mind just thinking about it.

AND PARIAH DARK TOO. Imagine being an eons old tyrant capable of dragging whole towns down into your dimension, and you get singehandedly shoved back into your coffin in less than 48 hours by a kid whose bedtime is still 8:30. You didn't even have the time to expand your army! You were still trying to take over the city the kid came from!

And he just!!! Shoves you back in!! Insane! This kid hasn't even been dead for a full year yet! He's still growing in his ghost fangs! And he just knocked you flat on your ass in an oversized mech suit. What the fuck! It's like looking down and seeing a four week old kitten meowing very indignantly at you and trying to bite your feet, except that kitten is also actually a black-footed cat and they have a 60% kill success rate, and oops! Now you're dead. You took too long laughing at the kitten trying to attack you that it clawed up your pant leg and ripped out your throat.

COULD I, realistically, span these episodes out over the course of 2.5 years prior to Danny's family dying?? Yes I could! Do I think it's hilarious (and horribly traumatizing, which makes it twice as fun) to shove all of this into the span of (roughly) a year instead?? Yes. Because the show has such a skewed timeline that I've always just assumed that at the end of the show, Danny was starting his sophomore year in high school. So fuck it, lets go for it!

[rafesangelita]

⊹₊⟡⋆♡ cowboy!rafe always snuck into farmer's!daughter!reader's room to give her a goodnight kiss.. but what happens when their innocent little kiss turns into something much more?

warnings: sweet fluff, flirty banter, brief flashback, daddy kink lol, sneaking around, unprotected sex, dirty talk, rafe covering your mouth, crying, overstimulation

a/n: i’ll be opening req’s soon! lately here i’ve been wanting to get out some of my own prompts since over half of my works are all req’s.. but i’m excited to see what you girlies send me! find more of farmer’s!daughter!reader and cowboy!rafe here <3

wc: 1.2k

“open up, doll face.” you sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as rafe lightly tapped on your window. he made you so giddy, you scrambled up from the warmth of your sheets, unlocking the hatch before helping him climb in. “i thought you weren’t coming..” you whispered, pouting up at him as he snickered. “y’gotta have faith in me, sweetheart. when have i missed a goodnight’s kiss?” rafe cupped your face, both of you smiling against each other’s lips before melting into one another.

you always felt so warm and fuzzy inside when you and rafe got to share your secret little moments together, the simplicity of just being together without having to worry about someone catching you two made both of your hearts swell. rafe knew how to sweep you off your feet with a single kiss, a string of giggles tumbling from your mouth as he not-so-quietly threw you onto your bed. “rafe!” you scolded him, your heart beating in your ears as he slotted himself between your thighs.

“my daddy is next door! what if he hears..” you slapped his chest playfully, the man above you arching a brow. “daddy? i thought i was your daddy.” your cheeks heated in embarrassment when you recalled the quickie you two had in the barn not too long ago. rafe had you bent over a hay bale, his thrusts making you unable to speak until he asked you the golden question.

“hmmph! fuckin’ say it. tell me what i wanna hear, who’s your fuckin’ daddy?”

taking your bottom lip between your teeth, rafe smiled as he shook his head down at you. “you just thought about it, didn’t you?” snapping you out of your flashback daze, you laughed when he leaned down and pressed a wet kiss to the column of your throat. he smelled like soap, the slight stubble on his cheeks tickling your skin. as if your hips had a mind of their own, you grinded your clothed cunt against rafe’s thigh, a whimper leaving your lips at the lack of friction.

“hey,” rafe cupped your tits through your flimsy night top, “you thought i wasn’t coming tonight, right? that’s what you said.” your eyebrows knitted in confusion before a gasp slipped from your mouth. “yes..” rafe trailed a hand underneath the waistband of your sleep shorts. “so why don’t you have any panties on?” you froze, eyes flickering down to where rafe ran a finger between your folds. keening, you couldn’t help the moan from leaving your lips.

rafe stared at you for a moment, his eyes growing dark as he clamped a hand over your mouth. “i’ve been thinking about this pussy all day. ‘think you can stay quiet for me?” of course you couldn’t.. and rafe knew that. you stared at him with wide eyes, butterflies fluttering in your tummy when he took himself out of his pants. “i mean it. we don’t want your old man chasing me down with that shotgun of his, now do we?” you shook your head, your eyes fluttering shut when you felt the head of his cock prod at your entrance.

you shrieked, his hips rolling into yours as he slowly bottomed out inside your cunt. if it wasn’t for rafe’s hand muffling your scream you’re sure both of you would be in deep trouble right now. rafe rested his head on your pillow, a shaky breath leaving his lips as he started thrusting. feeling his weight on top of you like this had easily become your favorite thing, the closeness of it all made your heart sing. “fuck, i could never get used to this.. ‘feels like the first time all the time.” he grunted.

you held onto his wrist, your thighs hugging his waist as he kissed the side of your face. “taking me so fuckin’ good, you were made for me, yeah?” you whined, your eyes watering as rafe continuously hit that soft spot inside of you. your headboard started hitting the wall, a smirk gracing your boyfriend’s features. “rafe!” you whispered, tearing his hand away from your face. “s-slow down!” you attempted to push him away while simultaneously trying to keep your noises to yourself.

rafe picked up his pace, wrapping a hand around your throat. “can’t..” you shook your head, your chest rising and falling as the knocking of your headboard only got louder. rafe cursed under his breath when you cried out, working fast to get you turned over so he could push your head into the pillows. “what did i tell you?!” he scolded, landing a smack to your ass. you didn’t have any time to react to the stinging sensation on your backside, your orgasm washing over you once rafe started stroking your clit.

you fisted the sheets underneath you, biting down on your lip as white hot pleasure blinded your vision. rafe made no attempt to soothe you, instead he wrapped your hair around his fist, pulling you up as he nipped at the sensitive skin in the curve of your neck. “sweetheart?” you gasped when your father’s voice sounded from the other side of your bedroom door. you cleared your throat, frozen in place as your door knob rattled. “answer him.” rafe spoke in your ear, his tone sending a shiver down your spine.

“what?!” you stammered, heavy tears rolling down your cheeks as rafe continued to rub hard circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves. “answer him or i’ll make you scream.” you wanted to shoot a sassy ‘you already did’, but you didn’t dare chance it. your chin wobbled, your mouth falling open in a silent moan. “y-yes?!” you called out, glaring at rafe over your shoulder when the sound of his hips slamming into you bounced off of the walls. “you alright in there?” you bit the back of your hand, your head falling weakly.

“is this a girl thing or somethin’, should i call your aunt?” your cheeks heated, a chuckle sounding from the man behind you. “no! i’m o-okay!” rafe pulled your hair again, his lips close to your ear as he whispered the dirtiest things you’ve ever heard. “what would your pops think, huh? catching his perfect little angel getting fucked like this..” your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your knees slipping out from under you when rafe pushed you flat on your sheets.

“alright.. goodnight!” you ignored your father’s voice, the only thing your brain allowing you to process was rafe cumming inside of you, his fingers digging harshly into the flesh of your hips. “shittt,” he hissed, “son of a— fuck!” it was his turn to cover his mouth, his muscles constricting as you practically milked him for all he had. you reveled in the feeling of his hot cum filling you up, the thick ropes still connecting you two even after he pulled out.

you sighed, both you and rafe panting in the small space that was your room. “you okay, doll?” rafe kneeled down at your side, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your lips. blinking at him, you nodded before pulling him next to you. “it’s really late..” you yawned, glancing at the little clock on your bedside table. “i know.” rafe grumbled. there was nothing he hated more than having to leave you like this. wrapping his arms around your waist, rafe waited until you fell asleep before slipping out of your window again.

[ozzgin]

It is the 19th century and you are returning home by ship. Before you embark, you happen to find a glowing shell abandoned by the docks. It seems that the sea creatures are searching for it. Or maybe it's something else they're interested in. content: gender neutral reader, violence, dubious consent, based on Return of the Obra Dinn

January 1802 What's the matter with me, I wonder? As if my luggage wasn't heavy enough already, I had to drag around a big shell of sorts. Found it by the docks while I waited for my ship to arrive. It has a strange glow to it, this shell. Can't quite place it.

January 1802 Cheeky bastards! The seamen are such a flirt. From the moment I stepped onto the main deck, a handful of them haven't dropped the whistles and stares. One of the topmen - I recall he's Scottish? - he's been pestering me about the ship. "I'll show ye around, can't find a better guide," he says. His mates laugh and clap to his petty attempts.

February 1802 Some of the sailors are dying from lung illness. I was on the orlop deck, playing cards with the three Russians, when the surgeon rushed to one of the cabins ahead. "If it was contagious, we'd all have it by now. Damned if I know what it is, or where it comes from," I could hear him groan. I wondered out loud if I might catch it myself, but then I noticed one of 'em rascals trying to cheat the cards. February 1802 I saw it again tonight. Ever since we launched from Falmouth, as soon as the sun sets, there's an eerie glimmer in the distance. It reminds me of this damned shell. Are my eyes playing tricks on me? Oh, the sea is so terrifying in the dark. There's nothing but black stretching all around. My window is low; whenever the waves break against it, the wooden walls let out a groan that awakens me from the deepest slumber. Surgeon gave me pills to sleep. The creaks of the ship sound like a weeping maiden. February 1802 I think the cursed glow is getting closer. I couldn't sleep anymore, so I snuck onto the main deck. Scotsman found me wandering towards the bow, so he quietly hoisted me up by the waist. I thought he'd tell the Captain, but he sat me on the lower rigging, next to him, and we listened to the waves. I was afraid I'd fall off, but he kept a steady hand on me. I wish I could tell him about the light stalking our ship. Would he think I'm mad?

February 1802 Second Mate returned today on a small boat. We heard shouts coming from upstairs, so we rushed to see what was happening. Bosun had his pistol readied next to the Captain, and the sailors lifted the cargo from below. I thought I was dreaming at first. Some creatures, unholy beings, were caught in the net. They had the body of a human, but thick, fish tails covered in spikes. One of the Formosan passengers muttered something in Chinese, and some of the tail spikes suddenly pierced him dead. The old Miss next to me fainted on the spot, and the stewards urged us to leave. Right before I turned, I noticed one of the beasts pointing at me. It had a monstrous grin on its face. Oh, what a sight! The Scotsman guided me away, but I can't forget those eyes. Was it malice? Such an intense stare, burning straight into my soul. Now that I'm writing all this, a memory has come to mind: the creature had the same shell as mine, dangling from its neck.

February 1802 The pills no longer work. I can't rest anymore. Every time I close my eyes, I hear its wretched voice, calling me from the lazarette. That's where they locked those sea monsters. It sings nonsense, blasphemous lies. We're not fated soulmates. I've nothing to do with those devils. I should've never picked up the shell. I can only pray we reach land soon.

March 1802 God, oh God, what disaster has befallen us? I don't have much time. The gun deck is in shambles, more than half the crew dead. Underwater beasts have crawled their way up our ship; strange humans with spears, saddled on top of crabs larger than I've ever seen. The poor midshipman, oh, a young boy! He set himself on fire to stop the nightmarish fiend. Threw the lamp across the floor, and the flames swallowed both of them up. I scrambled up on the main deck, but there was no peace to be found; colossal tentacles sprawled around the ship, pulling the rigging apart, tearing humans like insects. The Captain's wife was struck by a falling pillar, I saw her crumble right before me. Scotsman is still alive, but his arm is missing a good chunk of it. I don't know where to find the surgeon.

March 1803 They left. They took the last boat, I only found out this morning. I tried to join them, but one of the sailors stopped me. "Witch," he shouted at me, "the beast down by the cargo hold screams your name. You must've called it here, brought this curse upon us." I don't know what he's talking about. Tonight I'm going to the lazarette, I can no longer bear the calling. This blasted fiend, oh, he's ruined me. I'll rot on this wreck. Mother, I don't think I'll ever reach the shore.

Your steps are hesitant as you tiptoe your way around the dried blood and debris, until you reach the locked chambers. The door is bent and folded away, as if hit by a great force. You do indeed notice the round prints against the rusty surface: giant suckers from a blasphemous being.

There he is, the wicked varmint who plagues your sleep! A pale creature is propped up, halfway out of the water, welcoming you with a toothy grin. The shell around his neck glows mockingly.

You throw your own shell at him. The small, ivory object rolls with a hollow thud.

"Is this what you wanted, damned monster?"

"Why, what am I to do with two?"

His voice is harsh and deep, rapping against your eardrums, scratching the inside of your head.

"I've been waiting for you. Can't leave this place without my beloved, can I?"

"There you go again with this nonsense. Villain! Drown me if you must, but spare me your deceit."

His smile falters, eyes narrowing in a frown.

"Is that how you find my love? Some petty lie told by a charlatan? Ungrateful brat, who do you think freed you from their shackles? Who do you suspect has summoned the leviathan, from the deepest trenches of the sea, to save your mortal soul?"

"The kraken left with the storm," you counter as the blood drains from your face. Could it be that you were to blame, after all?

"No, it left after the bargain."

He pulls himself up and sits on the edge of his former cage. You observe his features in mild awe: the texture of his skin, the dark locks of hair reaching all the way to the tail, the spikes breaking out of the thick, hard scales.

"What bargain," you ask fearfully.

"The last ones are free to escape, if they leave you to me."

Why, your horrified expression is not quite something he expected. Surely one must feel relief once their freedom has been guaranteed. And not just any kind of freedom - you've been returned to your soulmate.

He's spent weeks chasing the currents, trailing the faint glow in the distance. He hasn't stopped once, tail pushing forward to the promise of a reunion.

Yet, you seem unsure. Perhaps his approach has been too hurried, too nonchalant. You need a little bit of convincing, and he happens to be a master of courting.

His thorax suddenly expands, and you can almost hear the twisting sound of his ribs cracking and breaking under the pressure. A sweet voice rolls out of his mouth, a song you've never heard before. Your heart pounds tremendously, threatening to burst out of your chest, and a foreign panic floods your senses.

Despite your desire to flee, your lids are heavy, eyes slowly closing. Through your lashes, you can discern the beast crawling towards you, the same defiant grin plastered on his face.

It's time for you to come home.

[pityroad]

IN THE DARK TIMES, WILL THERE ALSO BE SINGING?

from Lady Chatterley's Lover, D.H. Lawrence (via)

“Grief will come to you. Grip and cling all you want, It makes no difference. Catastrophe? It’s just waiting to happen. Loss? You can be certain of it. Flow and swirl of the world. Carried along as if by a dark current. All you can do is keep swimming; All you can do is keep singing.”

from How Beautiful the Beloved, Gregory Orr (via)

Lev St. Valentine (via)

letter to Gustave Flaubert, 27 June 1870, George Sand

from Collected Poems; Horses at Midnight Without a Moon, Jack Gilbert (via)

from On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous, Ocean Vuong (via)

Snow and Dirty Rain, Richard Siken (via)

YES, THERE WILL ALSO BE SINGING. ABOUT THE DARK TIMES.