💋-Do they use tongue when they kiss? For bitey plant

Sin a little Sin || Accepting

The Senator's question catches Melakeni off-guard. Over the months, they have often spoken to one another plainly as women rather than by their chosen professions. If asked her opinion, the young knight might suspect that the Senator wishes she were closer to her sister. Or had a less political sense of sorority with her friends, her allies. Or perhaps, and this one might be conspiratorial, she simply wants an unfiltered opinion. There are many things that the Temple has taught Melakeni, but lying is not chief amongst them. They walk through the garden. The grass beneath her feet reminds her of home, a word she does not use often. She misses her both of her fathers. She misses the real sun on her skin. She cannot miss her home-world, any more than she is allowed to miss anything else. So she pushes the feelings down deep. Stirs her thoughts for something she might say to satisfy the query posed to her. Of all the Jedi, she is most close to those of her youngling clan. The youngest fears he will not be chosen by a Master. He fears his understanding and ability to channel the Force is not enough to secure his future in the Order. She has offered him close embraces and soothing kisses to his brow. Sweeping back the thick, unruly waves of his hair. She tells him the stories she remembers from her earliest memories. To say she has the softest place inside her for him is an understatement. If she had the power, she would take him under her wing. She would be his Master, but she has not yet earned the right to take on a padawan. The next face that rises almost makes an uncharacteristic smile rise to her face. The very idea of kissing him is preposterous. At best they are competative with one another. Each easily egging the other on as they are both Consulars. Whether it is healing or fostering life on even the most dismal and barren of worlds, they are nearly peerless. But as much as their natural antagonism shines through, so too, is their deepest understanding. They might share things few others would be able to empathise with. But she suspects if they were to even attempt to press their mouths together, they might both shatter like glass. And then there is Anakin. His mouth is soft. It is sweet. Their kisses are desperate in a way that might defy explanation but she knows it is because there are so very few moments they might spend together. There is every expectation that the next time they are parted, it will be the last. Every moment they are away from one another it feels like a part of her is missing. So of course their reunions are equally as passionate, equally as raw. But she will not tell this to the Senator. She cannot tell anyone. Sometimes not even Anakin himself. "Were I to kiss someone, I assume I would, my lady. Tongue and teeth, and breath drawn deep within. I would wish to communicate the depths of passion within my being. I would want to taste the Living Force as it clings to their soul. Just as I would think they would wish to know the same of me." And of a sudden, Melakeni comes to a stop. Arms withdrawn into the sleeves of her robes, she puts herself in the Senator's path, and gravely those brilliant green eyes search the taller woman's face. "Pardon me for having the audacity to postulate…but…are you simply curious about intimacy in regards to the Jedi, or….is it possible, Padmé, that you wish to kiss…me?"

i want to breathe electricity.

i want to feel the current surge through my veins, trapped, dancing beneath the skin, buzzing with life. i want it to bite. god, i want it to bite. glowing radiantly in the dead of night, i want to know the exhilaration of Tesla or Galvani or Hauksbee. i want to know 10,000 volts like a dear friend, raising every hair, carrying me home on a wave of electrons and protons. i want the feel the static build, until the buzzing penetrates every sense that remains, and the frequency sends me skyward.

i want to breathe electricity.

i want to know the light. i want it to consume me. i want to swim in the beams. i want you to push me under and hold me there. god, i want you to hold me there. i want to drown in the luminescence. i want to offer my lungs as a sacrifice and in their place install pillars of radiance that burst from my chest and burn down every square mile of this city. i want to surrender to the radiation. i want to absorb the lambent splendor, until the energy overwhelms every thought. i want to be overwhelmed beyond reason by the effulgence, until the brightness fills every cell, and the brilliance sends me higher.

i want to breathe electricity.

i want to know the daybreak. i want to know the dawn. i want to know the morning, the illumination of the world. i want to know the lighthouse, i want it to lead me home. god, i want to go home. i want to know the lamp. i want to know the scintillation of the lantern, guiding the weary and the tired through the night. i want to know the beacon. i want to know the blaze. i want to know the emanation of luster, so clean and pure. i want to experience divine coruscation, until the daylight renders me apical, beyond the reaches of life below.

i want to breathe electricity.

Clone Bang Promo Post: Team 35!

The members of @clonebang Team 35 are proud to announce our upcoming contributions to the Clone Bang! 🎉

I wrote Built on Bones and Middens, a 90K (!!!!) Commander Fox/Quinlan Vos mystery fic set late in the war on Coruscant. This Fox POV story follows our hard-knock, heavy-drinking commander as he (and a very irritating Jedi) dive deep into Coruscant's underworld to solve a mystery before Fox's brothers suffer the worst fate.

Action! Intrigue! Banter! A fatalistic view of Coruscant's inherent corruption!

Check out a snippet under the cut. Chapter 1 posts on January 6th, 2024!

The immensely talented @sankt-jesper contributed their artistic chops. Here is a might fine preview for you:

And the dulcet-toned @flowerparrish did a podfic for one of the chapters! For a scintillating preview, please enjoy a recording of the snippet below.

Friends, I'm so excited to share this work with you all. It is the longest thing I've ever written (by a lot) and it was so lovely to collaborate with others to create these works. This was my first Star Wars fandom event and I had a lot of fun. Enjoy!

🎉

“Are you sure?” Vos asked. “They make the best Ithorian food on the planet. Would you like to try it?”

“I would like,” Fox said, keeping his voice level, “to know what we’re doing here.”

Vos went still again, eyes locked on Fox’s face with the air of a predator preparing to pounce. Fox regarded him back evenly and tried very hard not to find it intimidating. 

Once again, Vos’ smile emerged after a moment. He relaxed back into his chair. “All business, I see. No worries, Fox, I won’t waste your time. We needed to be able to speak openly and that called for a change of scenery.” Vos spread out his arms, indicating the decor. “And also a change of wardrobe. I suppose you’re wondering where I left my robes.”

Fox took another sip of his whiskey. Damn, it was good. “I wasn’t going to comment on your fashion choices,” he said.

“Big of you,” Vos replied breezily. “Here at The Little Dipper I’m known as Garyth Lidon, a small-time gangster trying to break into the casino business. He has… a certain look I need to maintain.” Vos tugged a little at his voluminous trousers.

“And why,” Fox asked, “are we meeting at Garyth Lidon’s favorite restaurant to discuss this case instead of the secure GAR facility?”

Vos hummed. “Not so secure, though, is it?”

Fox looked down at his glass, swirled the whiskey around. He took a moment to control his expression. “You have a problem with my security?” he asked cooly.

“Oh, don’t be insulted, Fox!” Vos cried as he flopped back in his chair. “It’s nothing against you personally. I’m sure you run a very tight ship. But we can’t ignore the obvious here, can we? It was clones who attacked Obi-Wan and we don’t know why.” He spoke with his hands, rings catching the light as they moved. “Maybe they were just angry mutineers. Maybe they were brainwashed by a Sith. Maybe they swallowed one of those brain slugs from Geonosis!” Vos leaned forward, elbows on the table, and pointed at Fox. “Maybe it was the first attack of a massive coup and you brought two squads here to kill me when my back is turned.” 

Fox raised an eyebrow and used his glass to point at one of the windows. “My sniper is getting into position now, I’m just waiting for the signal.”

Vos snorted and sat back again. “I get it, I do, Fox. You have faith in your brothers, as you should. But we have no idea who we can trust here, even among friends. So we’re going to keep this investigation as far away from the GAR and the RCMO and that bantha-kriffer Tarkin as we can. And that starts with meeting at fine establishments like this one.”

“You don’t trust Tarkin either?” Fox asked.

Vos shrugged. “We don’t know how far up this goes. The attackers told Commander Cody they were acting under orders, but not who gave them. We can’t rule anyone out yet.”

Fox tried not to be too pleased at the idea that he might get a chance to arrest Tarkin, far-fetched though it may be.

“And the serene mystic act?” Fox asked.

“Ah!” Vos waggled his eyebrows. “That was my spot-on impression of Obi-Wan’s late master, Qui-Gon Jinn. He could stonewall politicians with all that Force babble for hours. When we have to be under close supervision I want to discourage anyone from asking too many questions. And no one wants to talk to the guy that makes you want to strangle him after two sentences.” 

“The thought did cross my mind.”

“Then I’m doing my job!”

Fox allowed himself to relax a little. Vos wasn’t what he had expected from this meeting and he certainly wasn’t like any of the other Jedi Fox had met. But he didn’t seem to care if Fox got a little sarcastic with him. Vos himself had insisted they forgo the formalities. Maybe he wouldn’t be too much of a hindrance during this investigation. Even if he was a little… cocky.

how does love appear? its exterior shell, oh, does it even have a façade? where leaden whatsits lies inside with tenebrosity which have lived there for decades. have i ever once laid an eye on it? that certain dingus that people know . . . ?

do people really know love?

if one thing, to be spouted with neither trace nor ounce of swither, it is i know and i have.

i have perceived love. many, or not too, years from this very day — when i espied a gyrating silhouette, performing a pirouette, its arms and legs swiveling; when i witnessed a scintillating soul descending from the ether through a coruscating beam of light; when i discerned an empyrean melody as pure and seraphic as the driven snow, except it was from the gap between your thin, pretty lips.

i have perceived love the moment i perceived you.

&. i have seen love. years and everyday — and until evermore, until hell freezes over. i spied love and it has doe eyes n sharp jawline, i have seen love and it is adorable yet impossibly enthralling. i beheld love when i opted to raise my head from being perched on my arm where i was sitting on the nook of a dusky box. suddenly then, it extended and offered its hand for me.

i have seen love the moment i saw you.

&&. i began to know love when i knew you. you illuminated mediums and means to love, and even love itself. you irradiated yourself when the gray clouds obscured the sun, or when the bulb can no longer provide luminosity, you furnished the phosphorescence i seek.

you are always what i crave for, no, what i always need. though you are a sought-after entity for every being in this world, for you deserve to be considered and cherished. once and twice when i had my eyes screwed shut due to extreme perturbation, you were there to glide me ahead equanimity. thrice when i was deep under a reservoir, you were there to let me suspire. you are always what my life requires for me to draw warm breaths and you are never missing a chance to effectuate that.

&&&. love is what you are, your existence is the solitary delineation of love. hence, love never dies for you will interminably live in my heart and thy epithet engraved in here for perpetuity.

i love you if there is no more word better than that.

..𖣂 new year an agnate outset contemporary affiliate in our growth aforementioned is our adventitious compose prodigious adventure for ascetic. adequate lassies vengeance reprisal, similarly flourishing useful selfindulgence zest, concern dashlife with loved heavyweight ones. sunlight began rises sluggishly into stance, turquoise domain began spreading across hacienda, flowers graced enthusiastically, light dazzling brightly. significant oxygenated charisma always oozes comfort, take look beautifully dame. deepest love parallel curiosity succeeded destroying empathy, dwellers have bequeathed their lukewarm accosting cherished sure enough angelic oomph like her. thousand splendiferous baubles foresee timidity upon, coruscate shimmering like nacres in incessant paradise. acquire roughly acknowledged 365 days sync. cognate the breeze that gorge aforetime blameless alike well known.

camouflaged, heretofore identical miles aside. aforesaid as we hardihood around our average day to day. wishing next year will fulled guffaw, benefit and gratefully. new year designed as affiliate into story. reliance maintain scrawl every chapter of book grow into novella. autograph oodles stories about the coeval lot joyously. really analogous scrobble my diary, offen festoon it. wishing nothing but happiness on the new year, new year new leaf. y'all, you should allocate plottage of moment with your loved ones in the new year like am. parallel snowfall new year are perfect combo. cherubical phenomenon separated through the mellifluous melody that escaped from throats adonis dame. midnightide populace roseate fuchsia seeds, spreads veracious amusement joyous provide force agreeable euphonious sounding trepidation quite flattering crumple and equipment than before. undoubtedly, the vivacity continues belong howl through atmosphere into euphoria shaking summons graceful callous unyielding commotion ecstasy was heard. sole clairvoyant rhythm fluctuates from the anthropological subconscious, succeeding annex. heeding to lullaby has convert an amusement that abounding nightide street are engrossed in. volatile forenoon common rather than frigid environment, essentially each person undergo boisterous with the stunningly night carol or the juvenile bipper within intelligent meditative about romantic excursion unbolted with the nonplus bewilderment crashing with guffaw giggle enthusiastic equate suitable illuminate dame. invigorating troposphere blows marvelously, caused whole creatures bewitched by scintillating gust. in loose room, quintuple pulchritudinous seraph ready in her loungewear to flip over the frosty night.

for    @wraithsea​,    with    love March,    2021. ​

               Flashing    lights    were    incandescent    in    her    vision.    Cloaking    her    frame    and    illuminating    her    with    their    radiance.    It    was    as    if    she    were    made    of    luminescence    itself    ;      a    star    burning.    She    was    a    SPARK    in    the    dark.    Effulgent    against    the    backdrop    of    a    twilight    sky.    Draped    in    an    opulent    fabric,    splattered    with    an    ENTICING    CRIMSON    hue,    and    embellished    with    gems    akin    to    the    bonfire    kindled    behind    her.    The    same    scarlet    shade    tinted    her    lips.    She    was    adorned    to    be    ENTHRALLING,    a    sinister    seductress    complementing    her    partner’s    angel.    A    carnality    igniting    those    dark    eyes    as    she    held    the    woman    in    her    arms,    neck    reclined    backwards,    the    other’s    head    against    her    chest.        

                Yet,    in    between    every    shot,    Aurora’s    eyes    diverted    towards    another    target,    a    glimmer    in    them    paralleling    the    coruscating    flames.    The    distraction    proved    to    be    an    impediment    in    the    character    she    was    depicting    for    the    photoshoot.    However,    once    there    was    a    break,    she    was    quick    to    remove    herself    from    Areum’s    embrace.    The    friend    in    question    tossed    her    a    questioning    glance    that    was    swatted    away    with    a    hurried    wave    of    her    hand.    She    would    understand.    Trudging    through    the    masses    in    her    extravagant    dress,    she    diminished    the    distance    between    herself    and    the    source    of    her    interest.

                  It    was    just    a    boy.    Perhaps,    so.    But    he    was    seemingly    ETHEREAL    in    her    eyes.    More    alluring    than    the    scene    fashioned    behind    her.    With    the    dark    skies    of    his    eyes,    scintillating    as    if    numerous    universes    nestled    inside    them,    and    his    perfectly    sculpted    cheekbones,    Aurora    almost    assumed    he    was    an    actual    angel.    He    had    descended    on    earth    to    illustrate    his    unequivocal    disappointment    in    the    portrayal    of    angels    and    demons    for    the    album    concept.    Seemed    quite    likely!

                  However,    when    she    stood    across    from    him,    Aurora    realized    she    had    nothing    to    say.    And    she    knew    quite    well    that    the    angel    theory    was    not    the    brightest    idea    to    be    blurted    out.    Bottom    lip    was    seized    between    teeth    as    she    contemplated    her    options    before    the    first    was    spoken.    She    oh    so    wished    she    hadn’t     !

                    “     Well,    aren’t    you    DIVINE      ?        Does    you    shirt    say          ‘     MADE    IN    HEAVEN      ?    ’   ”

                  Perhaps,    puns    were    not    her    strongest    suit    after    all.    Should    have    listened    to    her    mother.    An    apologetic    smile    was    necessary,    an    attempt    to    mask    her    dismay.         “      I’m    sorry,    that    was    horrifying,    wasn’t    it     ?        I    hope    I    didn’t    scare    you.    I’m    Aurora      !     ”          She    introduced    herself    with    an    enthusiastic    wave.           “      Hiiiiiiiiii     !   !     ”            Her    voice    cracked    at    the    end    of    the    elongated    hello    she    had    squealed.

Lasabrjotr Chapter 69: Nice

Chapters: 69/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: 

Relationships: Loki x Reader 

Characters: Loki (Marvel), Bucky (Marvel)

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Loki Has A Worse Time,

Summary:  You find yourself in an explosive situation. Loki figures some things out, and so do you.

You floated through nothing, bathed in sparkling blue light. Loki held your hand, pulled along behind you, staring into the azure cascade with gentle joy.

Forever forever forever

Til death do you part

The words pulsed inside you, so deep down that it was more like a feeling than a voice. What did it mean?

You knew you were going to be linked to Loki for the rest of your life. If he hadn't figured out how to sever that connection yet, he never would. But this beautiful light seemed to promise more.  More than your life. Adventure. Knowledge beyond your world. Power. Romance. The high and exciting life you had always dreamed of. Or safety. Love. Comfort. The stable and idyllic life that you really wanted. You could have it all, if you would just... Learn me learn me learn me “I'm trying.” You were. You had been. You were grasping your power. You were discovering your romance. Your love and comfort. You were gaining that knowledge, you had tasted adventure, and weren't sure that it was to your liking. Still seeking that safety and stability though. Perhaps it was holding your hand right now, gazing serenely into the light. Perhaps it was the light itself, bathing both of you in such glory. You stretched you arm out toward it. Closer. Closer. If you could just grasp it, you would have everything you ever wanted. If you could just understand it. If you could just learn it. But Loki was tugging your other hand now, slowing your progress. You looked back at him in confusion. His face, no longer suffused with contentment, now showed concern. He wanted you to stop. But you were so close now! So close...it was just right there! If you just...reached...a little further... He was pulling hard, like he did when he was trying to keep you out of the dream-void, but the void was no longer there. Now it was just the light. Your fingers just barely brushed its center. The light resolved itself into a brilliant sapphire blue crystal, rough but pure. It screamed for you, and Loki screamed for you, and with a final push, you closed your hand around the gem.

Knowledge flooded you. Light and power flooded you, more than you could ever hold. Your physical body disintegrated into light, and like a tiny Bifrost, you scattered across the universe.

                                                                               *****

You awoke screaming, flailing out of your bed, tearing at your blankets. Light filled your eyes, blinded you. You could feel runes marching up and down your body in blazing trails, like fire ants. It was too much!

Your brain pounded at your skull, too big to fit. The mark on your hand seared down to the bone. Too much!

Your whole body contorted with the overload of energy. Your stomach twisted and lurched.

Too much, too much, too much!

You shrieked again, and a pulse of magical energy burst from you. Everything in your room lifted, began flying around. Things crashed into the walls, through the walls, through the window. The door ripped from its hinges.

You heard Loki shout, heard Andsvarr's distressed cry, and more crashing, in the hallway and beyond. How far would it carry?

Loki appeared in your ruined doorway, just as your sight faded back in. His body coruscated with runes, both eyes blacked out, save for the bright glowing blue of his irises. Did you look like that right now?

But with the power released, your body relaxed, your stomach calmed. Finally, you collapsed, shivering, and Loki scooped you up into his scintillating arms, the runes already fading.

“I will go fetch a healer!” Andsvarr exclaimed, and rushed off down the hall. Loki carried you through the little library, past skewed shelves and fallen books, to his room, in which a dresser now rested on its side, a mirror toppled.

He lay you down on his bed, making sure to give you the pillow you preferred to use. He up-righted a chair and sat next to the bed, clasping your hand in his.

“Do you know what happened?” He asked. “Are you hurt?”

“I don't think so.” You said weakly. “Not injured at least. It hurt, but not now.”

“Do you remember anything?”

“Not really. A dream. Light. Flying. Trying to reach something and then...too much light, too much energy. Do you remember?”

“No.” He said quickly. “Don't worry about it right now. Just rest.”

Bjarkhild arrived, looking as if she had been hastily roused, and gave you a quick look over.

“There doesn't seem to be any damage to your body, though your mark looks freshly burned. I want you to see me tomorrow, so I might see it more clearly. You are suffering magic fatigue, but I think his Highness might be able to do something about that. Gently.” She said, giving Loki a stern glare. “She is in no shape for more...energetic activities.”

Loki looked away sharply. It might have just been the firelight, but his face looked red.

“I will care for her according to her needs.” He said with as much dignity as he could muster.

After Bjarkhild left, Loki crawled into bed with you, snuggling close with one arm around you protectively.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“I will be. The fatigue always feels better when you're close.” You wished you had a better handle on it though.

“Yes. But...are you okay?” He asked again. You could see the worry not quite hidden behind his eyes.

“No. No, I really don't think I am. I don't feel right. I feel like I should be screaming right now, or something. Why aren't I screaming?”

“Because I am here to protect you.” Loki declared. “I'm here. I'm here forever.”

Forever forever forever

Til death do you part.

What did it mean? Half-remembered words and blue light.

“Are you upset about the giant too?” Loki asked.

“Of course I am! He was right there! And he tried to kill me! And then you killed him! Right in front of me!”

“Well, technically Thor killed him.” Loki began.

“I should feel worse than this. I could have tried talking to him, but I just jumped up on a table with my knife. What did I think he was gonna do? I should have done something else. I should be freaking out, but I'm not.”

“I wouldn't be so sure of that.” Loki said. “It seems to me that you are, but you are being less up front about it. Like one of your computers. A 'freak out' program running in the background, sucking up all of your processing power.”

“Loki, this isn't...you know, I want to say that this isn't a joke, but that's a good analogy? I'm so worried, I can't think. I'm scared it's going to happen again. That lady in the ice. We're going to dig her out, and then what? You have to know she's gonna hate us. Last she knew, we were the enemy. And what if that was her guy? What if he was the kids dad?”

“I have it on very good authority that he was not.” Loki assured you. “He left behind some information that let us know, at least vaguely, who they are. The child is, presumably from a noble family, and the woman, her caretaker. The woman might be a threat; she is still ten feet tall, after all. However, and I hate to put this so callously, she will soon see that she has little choice but to cooperate. There's not really anywhere else for her to go. As for the girl...no one will harm her. She's not a warrior, she's just an innocent child.”

“Yeah, but will everyone else see it that way...Loki?” His face had suddenly gone crimson, lips pressed tightly together. “What's wrong?”

“There is this curse.” He muttered. “It says that when you get to a certain age, you will find yourself opening your mouth, and your father will come out.”

“Yeah, we have that saying too. Why?”

“No reason.”

Right.

“But you understand, right? Why I feel like this about...feeling like this? I don't want this to become normal. I don't want to get used to this kind of thing.”

“Fear not.” Loki said soothingly. “There will be no more killing of Frost Giants, and hopefully no more Asgardian deaths while you live.” He pressed a kiss to your temple.

“But you understand?”

“I understand. Now rest.”

You were exhausted. You let yourself drift off to sleep, feeling just a tiny bit better about things. As long as he understood, it would be all right. As long as he understood.

                                                                         *****

“I just don't understand!” Loki complained into his phone. He sat, naked and dripping in front of the bathroom mirror, on a call with Barnes, the only human he believed to be capable of helping him comprehend the bizarre nuances of human cultures and relations. “She has seen death before. She has been in battle. She's defended herself. We're teaching her how to fight. But there is this resistance in her. She doesn't want to get better. She doesn't want to overcome this fear. It is part of my duties to help her face war with a still and steely heart, if need be. But she wants to remain soft.”

“Well yeah, that makes sense.” Barnes said from his end of the line. “Nobody likes war.”

“A single glance at your species' history shows that to be a lie.”

“Yeah, okay, we do fight a lot. But nobody actually wants to go to war. Well, except the people who make money off it, but they aren't the ones actually going into battle. No one else likes it. Why do you think we invented so many machines for it?”

“So you do it all the time, but you hate it?” Loki tried to reason out. “Then why do it so much?”

“Because a lot of us are greedy SOB's who don't give a shit about anyone else, and those are the kinds of people who usually grab up leadership positions. But for someone like her, peace is the ideal. For her, getting used to violence means she can more easily perpetuate it, and she wouldn't want that.”

“She wouldn't want to slay her enemies swiftly and cleanly, so that she can go back to peacetimes?”

“No, she wouldn't see it that way. To her, the act of killing would end peace forever, because that act would just stay with her forever.”

Loki paused for a moment, rolling this over in his head. The contradictory nature of humans. You'd punched him before; when you were afraid. Had you felt guilty when you had done that? Was it normal behavior for you, or a product of everything you had been through?

“Look, I know it doesn't make sense. But we're different than you guys. Our brains, I mean. We're really not supposed to be doing this. It messes us up pretty bad. And you can't forget that she's seen some pretty terrible things, too. I mean, you and I were soldiers. Well, sorta. Weren't you?”

“In a way.” Loki said. “Asgard was in a state of relative peace through most of my life, but we did muster to the defense of our protectorates fairly regularly. As soon as I was old enough, I was sent with our warriors to direct them, and fight alongside them. I wasn't rank and file, but I've led armies, and I've been in battles.”

“Yeah, well she hasn't. Your experiences and hers are extremely different. This isn't something she was brought up to, so it's not surprising that it repulses her.”

“So...I should be preserving her pacifist nature.” Loki said slowly. “Rather than encouraging her to move past it?”

“Maybe. Maybe that's what she wants.”

“But I want to keep her safe. She's already been exposed to so much danger. And this is a time of upheaval for us; there will only be more.”

“And I'm not saying to make her stop learning how to defend herself, I'm just saying to be sympathetic. She's culturally different than you. She's going to react differently to things than you do, and this is a big difference between you. Don't just brush it off.”

“Right.” Peace was the ideal, violence was an abhorrent last resort, and compassion was a precious treasure. Even if you struggled with them sometimes, these were important facets of your being.

“Got that straightened out, your Highness? Can I go back to bed now?”

“Er, yes. Thank you for this.”

After they had said their goodbyes, Loki remained in front of the mirror. There were some other things to think about. He held out his hand, the Space Stone, wrapped in its icy containment, sat in his palm. Blue spread down his arm, over his body. This was the only use of his native Jotun magic that he currently employed, and it 'revealed' him whenever he held the frozen sphere for more than a moment.

“Just what are you up to?” Loki mused.

Why should the Stone be appearing in your dreams? Was it the source of the blue light that was so often featured in them? Did that mean it had been there all along? Why?

The possibility shed a new and disturbing light on some of the events of those dreams. How you sometimes seemed to be listening-even responding to-a voice he could not hear. How you sometimes brought physical objects out of those dreams of far away places. The dust and dried leaf from Titan, the snow from Jotunheim. As if you had in some way actually been there. Maybe you had. But how? And again, why?

And most worrisome, was it actually possible for you to free the stone from its containment, through dreams, and bring it back out into the world, out of his possession? Was that what it had been trying to do?

But you couldn't handle it. In the dream, you had shattered into beams of light. He hadn't wanted to tell you.

Did it want freedom? The stone was not...often... malignant. It seemed to enjoy being used. It liked to make things, to empower things. Was it bored?

Perhaps he ought to take it to work on the Bifrost a bit more often.

He heard a choked off gasp from the bath chamber door, turned just in time to see you retreat. Heard you run down the hall and out of his quarters entirely.

Well, that was familiar. But it wasn't as if you hadn't seen him naked in the bath before, so why-

Blue light, blue stone, blue skin, blue him!

You had seen.

Playlist 2019

Music posted on furtho.tumblr.com during 2019:

23 Skidoo’s Just Like Everybody, biting post-punk collage

A Certain Smile’s Original Replacement, sweet janglepop balladry

Adrianne Lenker’s Abysskiss, wistful folk sadness

Ai Yamamoto’s Going Home (Excerpt), super-quiet ambient minimalism

Altered Images’ See Those Eyes, bittersweet pop perfection

Al Usher’s Lullaby For Robert (Bogdan Irkük remix), lovely downtempo house re-imagining

Ampersand’s I’m Still Waiting, homemade indie tune

Anemone’s Sunshine (Back To The Start), kitchen disco-friendly pop

Anne Clark’s Our Darkness, lost classic proto-technopop from 1984

Aphex Twin’s T69 Collapse, twisting, twitching, frantic electronics

Asilomar’s Shimmer And Faded, spacious-but-warm Californian dreampop

Aster More’s Bought It, sweetly fuzzy indiepop

Asuna’s Sea Above, Chubby Plane, Sky Below, blissed out longform drone

Beatnik Filmstars’ Apathetic English Swine, trashy Bristolian garage rock ‘n’ roll

Ben Chatwin’s Coruscate, oddly delirious ambient

Bernard Grancher’s Fluxion Des Mollesses, homemade electropop with echoes of acidity 

Biff Bang Pow!’s Someone To Share My Life With, quietly impassioned cover of TV Personalities gem

Black Channels’ Two Knocks For Yes, longform collage on suburban hauntings

Blue Tomorrows’ Sound Of Moving, echoing, downtempo dreampop

Body Type’s Palms, energetic back-and-forth indie tune

Brambles’ Salt Photographs, quietly exhilarating modern classical

Brian’s Turn Your Lights On, big ecstatic I’m-in-love indie

Broadcast’s Before We Begin, glorious space age girl group pop

Buzzcocks’ Promises, lo-fi video for punk pop gem

Celer’s Rains Lit By Neon, drifting ambient drone

Chris Child & Micah Frank’s Debris Of The Days, dusty ambient folk chimes

Cloud Babies’ Dear Moon, too-fragile ballad from Kyoto duo

Corpse Factory’s Party Girl, “lo-fi mountain gloom rock from Thomas, West Virginia”

Cosey Fanni Tutti’s Tutti (edit), pulsing, joyful electronics

Cristina Quesada’s Hero, super-cute classic indie discopop

Darren Harper’s Slow Reveal, sweetly understated ambient 

David R Edwards’ A Novel For Lazy Readers - An Antidote To The Headache Of BBC Radio 4, bleakly comic spoken word

Dayflower’s Sweet Georgia Gazes, Lightning Seeds-style indie jangle

Death Cab For Cutie’s Northern Lights, appropriately big-skied indie

Dedekind Cut’s The Crossing Guard, foggy, distant ambient drone

Depeche Mode’s A Pain That I’m Used To (Jacques Lu Cont remix), gripping, propulsive dance mix

DJ Downfall’s To Bring You Joy, heartbreaking vocodered robotpop

Edgar Froese’s Epsilon Of Malaysian Pale, classic prog ambient 

Edward Artemyev’s Dedication To Andrei Tarkovsky, expansive late Soviet-era modern classical soundtrack

Emily A Sprague’s Piano One, quietly glitchy minimal piano

Emmanuel Witzthum’s Book Of Shadows, thoughtful modern classical

epic45′s Kaleidoscope Days, haunting, woozing post-rock dreamscape

Flaüta’s Pensar Mucho, lo-fi bedroom indie from provincial Argentina

Flying Fish Cove’s Sleight Of Hand, ramshackle but uplifting guitar pop

For Against’s Don’t Do Me Any Favors, catchily confident indie jangle

For Tracy Hyde’s 櫻の園, sweet-voiced shoegaze pop

Franziska Lantz’s Run For It, experimental minimal techno

Gabe Knox’s Lo Spettro, languid electronic pastoralism

Gavin Bryars with Philip Jeck & Alter Ego’s The Sinking Of The Titanic (1969-), spine-tingling long-form modern classical

Geotic’s Actually Smiling, blissful warm house

Grand Veymont’s session for La Souterraine, Radio Campus, Paris, stunning live longform pastoral drone

György Ligeti’s Poème Symphonique For 100 Metronomes, live avant garde performance - great for fans of clicking noises

Harae Nagoshi’s Case1, glitchy piano pastoralism

Hatchie’s Sure, big open indie tune

Hazell Dean’s Whatever I Do (Wherever I Go) 12″, thrilling 80s hi-NRG pop

Heartsease’s Blurs, drifting ambient sadness

Help Stamp Out Loneliness’ Pacific Trash Vortex, uptempo hooky indie with charismatic vocal

Hood’s Houses Tilting Towards The Sea, languid post-rock pastoralism

International Teachers Of Pop’s After Dark, anthemic, booty-shakin’ electropop

Jane Weaver’s Slow Motion (Loops Variation), dreamily melancholy synthpop

Jonteknik feat Malte Steiner’s Fernsehturm (iEuropean remix), glistening electro modernism

Kasper Marott’s Keflavik, beautifully, er, constructed house

Kenji Endo’s Curry Rice, charming snapshot of Japan’s underground folk boom of the late 60s and early 70s

Kevin Drumm’s A Puddle On The Floor, spine-tingling minimal drone

Kirill Mazhai’s Love Theme, hazily warm ambient drone

Komputer’s Skyskrapers, downtempo bleep-pop balladry

Kraftwerk’s Antenna, rare video of the electronic classic from 1975

La Boum Fatale’s Walls (Instrumental), warmly glitched-up technopop

Laveda’s Dream. Sleep, distant echoing dreampop

Listening Center’s Meridian, brisk synthpop experimentalism

Lives Of Angels’ Imperial Motors, lost classic of catchy post-punk drum machine pop

Lowfish’s Live In San Francisco, forty minutes of gorgeous funky electro

Lunar Vacation’s Blue Honey, sweet and fragile indie

Magazine’s The Light Pours Out Of Me, captivatingly gloomy post-punk

Malish Kamu’s Birds, ethereal minimalism from south-western Russia

Marble Index’s Love Talking To Boys, 1999 take on synth-driven post-punk

Marie Davidson’s Work It, funky as fuck minimal technopop 

Martha & The Muffins’ Echo Beach, irresistible new wave classic

Martial Canterel’s You Today, frantically catchy minimal synth

Mary Jane Leach’s Bruckstück, breathtaking modern choral

Memoryhouse’s The Kids Were Wrong, catchily polished indie

Meter Bridge’s It Was Nothing (Rodney Cromwell remix), blistering disco’d up electropop remix

Mick Trouble’s Shut Your Bleeding Gob You Git, bracingly ramshackle punk pop

Mode Citizen’s Sex & Steel (The Dark Robot remix), pounding sequenced electro remix

Moving Panoramas’ Baby Blues, exhilarating piece of kind of Alvvays-esque indie 

My Robot Friend’s Sex Machine, hopeful in lyrical theme, bleepy minimal wave in terms of sonic stylings

Naps’ Bad Vibrations, exciting indiepop from much-missed (by me) Florida outfit

Naw’s Still Breathing, looping electronic experimentalism

Night Hikes’ Avila, “you’re the only one who ever made my coffee right...”

Night Sports’ Substance, joyful disco-y synthpop

Nonconnah’s Driving Away For The Last Time Without Looking Back, determinedly lo-fi folk drone

Nov3l’s To Whom It May Concern, infectious modern post-punk jangle

Okonomiyaki Labs’ Blue Toast (edit), mischievous experimental bleepery by Japan-based former Pale Saint

Palais Schaumburg’s Wir Bauen Eine Neue Stadt, Neue Deutsche Welle post-punk angularity

Part Timer’s Nothing Changes, restrained modern classical vignette

Patrik Fitzgerald’s Tonight, acoustic punk poetry from back in the day

Pelopincho’s Puchos, exuberant two-chord indie from Argentina

Petrichor’s Petrichor Ten, charming minimal electronic sketch

Pet Shop Boys feat Example’s Thursday, scintillating hooky electropop

Piano Magic’s Dark Secrets Looking For Light, bleak post-rock balladry, as you may have inferred

Remington Super 60′s The Highway Again, luscious laidback jangle

Rico Loverde’s He’s A Wiardo, oddly funky electro experimentalism

Riton & Kah-Lo’s Fake ID, rough-around-the-edges funky house

Robert Rental & The Normal’s Live At West Runton Pavilion, incendiary live experimentalism from the lo-fi synth pioneers

Robjn’s Suburban Temple/Feel This Way (Corwood Manual remix), hauntological glitchpop, complete with captivating video

Rose Elinor Dougall’s Fallen Over, pleasingly brief loved-up pop

Roxy Girls’ Interjections, energetically catchy punk pop  

Ruby Jaunt’s Jeune, haunting electronic indie

St Etienne’s Carnt Sleep, lovesickness + insomnia = popdub heaven

Saariselka’s Void, charming blend of ambient and folk Americana

Sector One’s Can Machines Be Sad?, delirious post-Kraftwerk synthpop

Six Microphones’ Overture & Part 1, minimal ambient experimentation

Slow Pulp’s New Media, melodic post-punk twang

Sobs’ Girl, tuneful indie jangle from Singapore

Spread Eagle’s Palatine Hill, distant, foggy Glaswegian indie

Stan Tracey Quartet’s Starless And Bible Black, extraordinary jazz tune inspired by Under Milk Wood

Steve Reich’s Come Out, ground-breaking tape loop experimentation

Sugar World’s Sad In Heaven, perfect rough-and-ready indie jangle

Surf Friends’ Outdoors, relentlessly upbeat guitar pop

Suicide’s Touch Me, can’t-break-the-spell synthpunk hypnotism

Susumu Yokota’s Grass, Tree & Stone, hypnotic cut-and-paste ambient by the late, great Yokota

Telefon Tel Aviv’s The Birds, hypnotic electronic glitch rock

Teleman’s Rivers In The Dark, winning melodicism from under-rated popsters

The Adverts’ The Great British Mistake, lost gem by punk legends

The Autumn Teen Sound’s Telegraph, Casiocore cover of OMD hit

The Boys With The Perpetual Nervousness’ Close The Doors, laidback indie jangle

The Flirts’ Passion, trashy disco from early 80s New York

The Juan Maclean’s What Do You Feel Free About? (Man Power remix), driving techno-disco to get your party started

The Leaf Library’s Hissing Waves, lovely pastoral post-rock

The Screamers’ 122 Hours Of Fear (live at the Target), thrilling late 70s synthpunk

The Silicon Scientist’s Sinister Street, notably un-sinister vocoder-driven synthpop

The Slits’ Typical Girls, spiky post-punk pop

The Twin Roots’ Know Love, warm and soothing reggae deliciousness

The Wannadies’ You And Me Song, quiet-loud-quiet-loud indie classic

Thistle Group’s High, bittersweet solo tape loop experimentalism from New Zealand

Tiny Magnetic Pets ft Wolfgang Flür’s Radio On (Alice Hubble remix), dreamy electronics topped off with spoken word by ex-Kraftwerk legend

Tremelo Ghosts’ Paradise, sweetly lo-fi indie folk

Tvärtom’s Iltariennot, melancholy Finnish indie jangle

Utro’s Где-то там, hypnotic indie drone from Motorama spin-off act

VDOF’s Zooming In I Can Clearly See Your Heart Has Got Aliasing Issues, confident minimal electronic debut

Viktor Timofeev & Simon Werner’s Sphynx Cats Nuzzle, spookily experimental spoken word

Walt Thisney’s Shadows, delightful modern classical sketch

Will Burns & Hannah Peel’s Moth Book, charming blend of electronics and spoken word

William Doyle’s Millersdale, wide-eyed ballad inspired by the housing estates of England

Window Magic’s From Here Flows What You Call Time, pastoral found sound collage

Yazoo’s Midnight, killer-sweet electropop ballad

Yoshio Machida’s Synthi #04, whistling, gurgling, oddly pastoral electronic experimentalism

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

The playlist for 2018 is here. The playlist for 2017 is here. The playlist for 2016 is here. The playlist for 2015 is here. The playlist for 2014 is here. The playlist for 2013 is here.

THE GRAVEYARD BY THE SEA

This quiet roof, where dove-sails saunter by, Between the pines, the tombs, throbs visibly. Impartial noon patterns the sea in flame -- That sea forever starting and re-starting. When thought has had its hour, oh how rewarding Are the long vistas of celestial calm! What grace of light, what pure toil goes to form The manifold diamond of the elusive foam! What peace I feel begotten at that source! When sunlight rests upon a profound sea, Time's air is sparkling, dream is certainty -- Pure artifice both of an eternal Cause. Sure treasure, simple shrine to intelligence, Palpable calm, visible reticence, Proud-lidded water, Eye wherein there wells Under a film of fire such depth of sleep -- O silence! . . . Mansion in my soul, you slope Of gold, roof of a myriad golden tiles. Temple of time, within a brief sigh bounded, To this rare height inured I climb, surrounded By the horizons of a sea-girt eye. And, like my supreme offering to the gods, That peaceful coruscation only breeds A loftier indifference on the sky. Even as a fruit's absorbed in the enjoying, Even as within the mouth its body dying Changes into delight through dissolution, So to my melted soul the heavens declare All bounds transfigured into a boundless air, And I breathe now my future's emanation. Beautiful heaven, true heaven, look how I change! After such arrogance, after so much strange Idleness -- strange, yet full of potency -- I am all open to these shining spaces; Over the homes of the dead my shadow passes, Ghosting along -- a ghost subduing me. My soul laid bare to your midsummer fire, O just, impartial light whom I admire, Whose arms are merciless, you have I stayed And give back, pure, to your original place. Look at yourself . . . But to give light implies No less a somber moiety of shade. Oh, for myself alone, mine, deep within At the heart's quick, the poem's fount, between The void and its pure issue, I beseech The intimations of my secret power. O bitter, dark, and echoing reservoir Speaking of depths always beyond my reach. But know you -- feigning prisoner of the boughs, Gulf which cats up their slender prison-bars, Secret which dazzles though mine eyes are closed -- What body drags me to its lingering end, What mind draws it to this bone-peopled ground? A star broods there on all that I have lost. Closed, hallowed, full of insubstantial fire, Morsel of earth to heaven's light given o'er -- This plot, ruled by its flambeaux, pleases me -- A place all gold, stone, and dark wood, where shudders So much marble above so many shadows: And on my tombs, asleep, the faithful sea. Keep off the idolaters, bright watch-dog, while -- A solitary with the shepherd's smile -- I pasture long my sheep, my mysteries, My snow-white flock of undisturbed graves! Drive far away from here the careful doves, The vain daydreams, the angels' questioning eyes! Now present here, the future takes its time. The brittle insect scrapes at the dry loam; All is burnt up, used up, drawn up in air To some ineffably rarefied solution . . . Life is enlarged, drunk with annihilation, And bitterness is sweet, and the spirit clear. The dead lie easy, hidden in earth where they Are warmed and have their mysteries burnt away. Motionless noon, noon aloft in the blue Broods on itself -- a self-sufficient theme. O rounded dome and perfect diadem, I am what's changing secretly in you. I am the only medium for your fears. My penitence, my doubts, my baulked desires -- These are the flaw within your diamond pride . . . But in their heavy night, cumbered with marble, Under the roots of trees a shadow people Has slowly now come over to your side. To an impervious nothingness they're thinned, For the red clay has swallowed the white kind; Into the flowers that gift of life has passed. Where are the dead? -- their homely turns of speech, The personal grace, the soul informing each? Grubs thread their way where tears were once composed. The bird-sharp cries of girls whom love is teasing, The eyes, the teeth, the eyelids moistly closing, The pretty breast that gambles with the flame, The crimson blood shining when lips are yielded, The last gift, and the fingers that would shield it -- All go to earth, go back into the game. And you, great soul, is there yet hope in you To find some dream without the lying hue That gold or wave offers to fleshly eyes? Will you be singing still when you're thin air? All perishes. A thing of flesh and pore Am I. Divine impatience also dies. Lean immortality, all crêpe and gold, Laurelled consoler frightening to behold, Death is a womb, a mother's breast, you feign The fine illusion, oh the pious trick! Who does not know them, and is not made sick That empty skull, that everlasting grin? Ancestors deep down there, 0 derelict heads Whom such a weight of spaded earth o'erspreads, Who are the earth, in whom our steps are lost, The real flesh-eater, worm unanswerable Is not for you that sleep under the table: Life is his meat, and I am still his host. 'Love,' shall we call him? 'Hatred of self,' maybe? His secret tooth is so intimate with me That any name would suit him well enough, Enough that he can see, will, daydream, touch -- My flesh delights him, even upon my couch I live but as a morsel of his life. Zeno, Zeno, cruel philosopher Zeno, Have you then pierced me with your feathered arrow That hums and flies, yet does not fly! The sounding Shaft gives me life, the arrow kills. Oh, sun! -- Oh, what a tortoise-shadow to outrun My soul, Achilles' giant stride left standing! No, no! Arise! The future years unfold. Shatter, O body, meditation's mould! And, O my breast, drink in the wind's reviving! A freshness, exhalation of the sea, Restores my soul . . . Salt-breathing potency! Let's run at the waves and be hurled back to living! Yes, mighty sea with such wild frenzies gifted (The panther skin and the rent chlamys), sifted All over with sun-images that glisten, Creature supreme, drunk on your own blue flesh, Who in a tumult like the deepest hush Bite at your sequin-glittering tail -- yes, listen! The wind is rising! . . . We must try to live! The huge air opens and shuts my book: the wave Dares to explode out of the rocks in reeking Spray. Fly away, my sun-bewildered pages! Break, waves! Break up with your rejoicing surges This quiet roof where sails like doves were pecking. Original French Text Le cimetière marin Translation by C. Day Lewis The French text and English translation side by side Ce toit tranquille, où marchent des colombes, Entre les pins palpite, entre les tombes; Midi le juste y compose de feux La mer, la mer, toujours recommencee O récompense après une pensée Qu'un long regard sur le calme des dieux! Quel pur travail de fins éclairs consume Maint diamant d'imperceptible écume, Et quelle paix semble se concevoir! Quand sur l'abîme un soleil se repose, Ouvrages purs d'une éternelle cause, Le temps scintille et le songe est savoir. Stable trésor, temple simple à Minerve, Masse de calme, et visible réserve, Eau sourcilleuse, Oeil qui gardes en toi Tant de sommeil sous une voile de flamme, O mon silence! . . . Édifice dans l'ame, Mais comble d'or aux mille tuiles, Toit! Temple du Temps, qu'un seul soupir résume, À ce point pur je monte et m'accoutume, Tout entouré de mon regard marin; Et comme aux dieux mon offrande suprême, La scintillation sereine sème Sur l'altitude un dédain souverain. Comme le fruit se fond en jouissance, Comme en délice il change son absence Dans une bouche où sa forme se meurt, Je hume ici ma future fumée, Et le ciel chante à l'âme consumée Le changement des rives en rumeur. Beau ciel, vrai ciel, regarde-moi qui change! Après tant d'orgueil, après tant d'étrange Oisiveté, mais pleine de pouvoir, Je m'abandonne à ce brillant espace, Sur les maisons des morts mon ombre passe Qui m'apprivoise à son frêle mouvoir. L'âme exposée aux torches du solstice, Je te soutiens, admirable justice De la lumière aux armes sans pitié! Je te tends pure à ta place première, Regarde-toi! . . . Mais rendre la lumière Suppose d'ombre une morne moitié. O pour moi seul, à moi seul, en moi-même, Auprès d'un coeur, aux sources du poème, Entre le vide et l'événement pur, J'attends l'écho de ma grandeur interne, Amère, sombre, et sonore citerne, Sonnant dans l'âme un creux toujours futur! Sais-tu, fausse captive des feuillages, Golfe mangeur de ces maigres grillages, Sur mes yeux clos, secrets éblouissants, Quel corps me traîne à sa fin paresseuse, Quel front l'attire à cette terre osseuse? Une étincelle y pense à mes absents. Fermé, sacré, plein d'un feu sans matière, Fragment terrestre offert à la lumière, Ce lieu me plaît, dominé de flambeaux, Composé d'or, de pierre et d'arbres sombres, Où tant de marbre est tremblant sur tant d'ombres; La mer fidèle y dort sur mes tombeaux! Chienne splendide, écarte l'idolâtre! Quand solitaire au sourire de pâtre, Je pais longtemps, moutons mystérieux, Le blanc troupeau de mes tranquilles tombes, Éloignes-en les prudentes colombes, Les songes vains, les anges curieux! Ici venu, l'avenir est paresse. L'insecte net gratte la sécheresse; Tout est brûlé, défait, reçu dans l'air A je ne sais quelle sévère essence . . . La vie est vaste, étant ivre d'absence, Et l'amertume est douce, et l'esprit clair. Les morts cachés sont bien dans cette terre Qui les réchauffe et sèche leur mystère. Midi là-haut, Midi sans mouvement En soi se pense et convient à soi-même Tête complète et parfait diadème, Je suis en toi le secret changement. Tu n'as que moi pour contenir tes craintes! Mes repentirs, mes doutes, mes contraintes Sont le défaut de ton grand diamant! . . . Mais dans leur nuit toute lourde de marbres, Un peuple vague aux racines des arbres A pris déjà ton parti lentement. Ils ont fondu dans une absence épaisse, L'argile rouge a bu la blanche espèce, Le don de vivre a passé dans les fleurs! Où sont des morts les phrases familières, L'art personnel, les âmes singulières? La larve file où se formaient les pleurs. Les cris aigus des filles chatouillées, Les yeux, les dents, les paupières mouillées, Le sein charmant qui joue avec le feu, Le sang qui brille aux lèvres qui se rendent, Les derniers dons, les doigts qui les défendent, Tout va sous terre et rentre dans le jeu! Et vous, grande âme, espérez-vous un songe Qui n'aura plus ces couleurs de mensonge Qu'aux yeux de chair l'onde et l'or font ici? Chanterez-vous quand serez vaporeuse? Allez! Tout fuit! Ma présence est poreuse, La sainte impatience meurt aussi! Maigre immortalité noire et dorée, Consolatrice affreusement laurée, Qui de la mort fais un sein maternel, Le beau mensonge et la pieuse ruse! Qui ne connaît, et qui ne les refuse, Ce crâne vide et ce rire éternel! Pères profonds, têtes inhabitées, Qui sous le poids de tant de pelletées, Êtes la terre et confondez nos pas, Le vrai rongeur, le ver irréfutable N'est point pour vous qui dormez sous la table, Il vit de vie, il ne me quitte pas! Amour, peut-être, ou de moi-même haine? Sa dent secrète est de moi si prochaine Que tous les noms lui peuvent convenir! Qu'importe! Il voit, il veut, il songe, il touche! Ma chair lui plaît, et jusque sur ma couche, À ce vivant je vis d'appartenir! Zénon! Cruel Zénon! Zénon d'Êlée! M'as-tu percé de cette flèche ailée Qui vibre, vole, et qui ne vole pas! Le son m'enfante et la flèche me tue! Ah! le soleil . . . Quelle ombre de tortue Pour l'âme, Achille immobile à grands pas! Non, non! . . . Debout! Dans l'ère successive! Brisez, mon corps, cette forme pensive! Buvez, mon sein, la naissance du vent! Une fraîcheur, de la mer exhalée, Me rend mon âme . . . O puissance salée! Courons à l'onde en rejaillir vivant. Oui! grande mer de delires douée, Peau de panthère et chlamyde trouée, De mille et mille idoles du soleil, Hydre absolue, ivre de ta chair bleue, Qui te remords l'étincelante queue Dans un tumulte au silence pareil Le vent se lève! . . . il faut tenter de vivre! L'air immense ouvre et referme mon livre, La vague en poudre ose jaillir des rocs! Envolez-vous, pages tout éblouies! Rompez, vagues! Rompez d'eaux rejouies Ce toit tranquille où picoraient des focs!

Paul Valery, died July 20, 1945.

Crystarium Guardsmen have kept their eyes on the activity of any who may threaten what vestiges of hope remain for Norvrandt.

The elusive and peculiar “Sin Eater Bard” known as the Northern Light was finally seen outside the walls of Eulmore, roaming Amh Araeng with his Seraphim to bring his own twist in the story of how the Flood of Light came to be.  Where will he be found next?  What is his true agenda...?

Lyrics:

(Spoken)

Lali-ho, Sinners!  It’s your boy – the Northern Light!  Back with another one for your listening pleasure!  Now sit back, relax, and let me tell you a little story…

SO!

A long time ago, a century or so,

Some adventurers changed the status quo!

And time after time did they win the day,

Till “The Warriors of Light” became their name!

But eventually, it was plain to see,

That there was no more vice or villainy!

And what else beheld our mortal eyes,

Than the greatest wave of wicked white?

(In the desert sands of amber red...~)

In Amh Araeng, the Majestic Land, The Oracle of Light did make her stand!

(And she spared the realm from silv'ry dread...~)

Though even if the world was saved, A new force - a new foe was made!

(Winged beings descend from on high...~) Yes, indeed!

From the Empty, the eaters come, To nosh on sinners yet undone!

(As we bathe in everlasting Light...~) Right you are!

And only Norvrandt's what remains, The fight continues to this day!

(Radiant... Brilliant...~ Shimmering... and scintillating.~)

(Glittering... Glimmering...~ Shining and... so coruscating.~) x3

Now!

Here we are, just livin' life, With everybody prayin' for the night! Still we persist; still they endure, For nobody knows just what's in store!

One thing's certain, tried and true, Even if you don't have a clue: The Shadowkeeper was laid to waste, And now Light takes its rightful place!

Darkness knew its time had come, The righteous ones have fought and won! From pristine sands of Amh Araeng, Its amber tale rings to this day.

And so our song comes to an end, For greater muses still lie ahead, Seraphim, of voices prim, Come take us home, and bring us in!  I'm out.

(Yes, it has been one hundred years~ Since we were rid of our darkest fears~ And here, we proud angels sing today~ Gone are the shadows - cast away!~)

(Il Mheg and Kholusia~ Lakeland and even Rak'tika~ Thus was Norvrandt spared the rapture of the - Flood of Light~!)

(Pure and white, the road we walk~ Though we may wander, we're not lost~ Spread your wings, look to the skies~ Bask in its glory, warm and bright~)

(Pristine sands of Amh Araeng~ Its amber tale rings to this day~ Thus was Norvrandt spared the rapture of the - Flood of Light~!)

​❝ i need to step away, get some fresh air. ❞ Padmé

Sense and Sensibility || Accepting

Though she is not one of the Senator's handmaids, she moves with the swiftness of a coursing river and the silence of some great dark storm cloud for all her small size to follow silently behind the stateswoman. The others remain behind and watch the women exit the Senator's social chamber, and not for the first time does she wonder why they are allowed to sit back, smug and fat on the Senator's largess. A different choice,a less strong sense of duty and loyalty, and rather than braids, Melakeni would wear a crown. She would not tolerate the backbiting and the spinelessness. When she was through with the audience granted, they might lack heads, too. But it isn't her place to say so. She takes each measured step in contemplation, and it isn't until they are ensconced on the balcony that she bothers to bring it up. She stands a sedate five paces back, hands enveloped in the sleeves of her robes. "Senator? Are you quite well? I sense...no distress. You seem flushed, however."

midnight stars & black holes

He saw his sins in the cataclysmic, abysmal depths of her ebon eyes.

He could see Thexan in her reflective eyes, their features very much the same, but the mask preventing the mirage from ever coming true.

And he felt it then, the ever-growing horror as he struck his brother down without mercy, their bond severed, and, finally, an approving Father, but far too late. The harsh light of the throne room, the stars swirling around him: he had wished then to fall from the platform or break their glass cage to be embraced by the frigid void of space.

But no; this is what it was like, wasn’t it? Being exposed, stripped bare, by eyes so dark they were mirrors. They almost felt cold, as if space had plucked twin drops of itself in her eyes. They were truth-telling, they knew no lies. However, even bound and defeated with her traveling companion, a Sith no less, her eyes hungered for justice and answers.

You will not find what you wanted here.

I will never again kneel to you!

I will share all of this with you… if you will only kneel.

Share? You don’t share; you enslave, you devour. I will never be a part of that.

Her defiance continually shocked him. Half-feral in her star-spitting rage, snarl on her lips, sharp teeth bare, but peace in her eyes; these were the actions of a predator, cornered but lashing outward still. The gold of his ignited lightsaber echoed shallowly in the tenebrous pits, almost closed now and awaiting the killing blow.

What had his Father seen in their reflective sheen? His short-comings? His failures? He must know, he must act.

You came here to defeat him—this is your chance.

Sunrise meets the night, a mutual understanding despite his reluctance to admit it, a fellow warrior, a fallen star. She knew what he will do; she already knew him to his core. How could she know of him, of his flaws and scars, of his brother and sister and mother, in just a single look? Yet she knew, and their minds brushed, and he tasted the desire to save.

He stared as the future unfolded in her perilous, unyielding eyes.

He watched as Coruscant burned and Dromund Kaas crumbled under the heavy cannon fire of the Eternal Fleet, could smell bodies burn in the fire-light; not quite dawn, not quite night, but the smoke and the flickering flames made it always twilight. The cries of children, scared and alone, rung in his ears; there were no replies to their screams. The distant hovering deity of the Star Fortress above casted an immense shadow onto the planet below; no, planets.

He could see himself on the throne, hands pressed together and back hunched, glaring with unparalleled animosity at a holo of her, recalcitrant and almost savage in her open rebellion. Already, he could see her montrals as crown, a coronet of scintillating stars enveloping them even as they formed at her very fingertips, her entire body cast in an ethereal, radiant glow.

He could see her insubordination in the face of his Father, practically spitting into his face despite the serenity present on her face. He sees his and her lightsabers sparking, creating plasma trickling to the floor between them at their continuous meeting.

The Force flashed in each other’s company like solar flares, circling each other and always giving and taking, a symbiotic calamity, a pair of black holes dancing upon a pre-ordained apocalypse.

Back in the throne room, the stars twinkled in their anticipation. He knew what role he would play, as she did hers.

It was worth it at the end of it all.

Blurrings of the light

Incurred transfiguration

Debt owed before comes as repatriation in the hallow of war

To this land again as I come to as prayers I send hither to

Be like the blurring of lights as the Sun scintillates the ice off

Incurred anew in transfiguration I coruscate from hence to there

Deliverance of day

Debt to my people I come like the gleam and glimmer of the Sun to show the way

And owed brotherhood of the brotherhood born in bondage, this incurred

Thence before this hour, I was at the fray of the firmament and the firmament’s ray

The tide that comes like I returned to this shore once again as it occurs

Me and my men come as souls whither laboured as the deliverance of day

Forth day I come as the repatriation of the free, I come as the stir

Sent back, we thence from the clouds in come the lights in array

For this nation we have fought and died to the incense of myrrh

While my mother prays, I was swept as a soul hallow in the rays

And after the fourth night those prayers were heard from of the firmament’s recour

‘til all the saints prayed for I thence brought me back to the war at this bay

For all the reverence send us thither as the chosens coming in blurs

And from here hither to the recourse of the fray

There thence to as my breaths come as burrs

Torch and light

Be the torch and light of freedom as my resolution incurred in the gale

When like the rising Sun first rose on this island anew a promise

And then the day took form as I take the form in light of day’s veil

Comes this blurring as the light in transfiguration comes off reminisce

And sight off the light of day as I contrast the night and braille

As the morning grins lights coruscate through the remiss

As I’d seen the Christle from as it crystaled in golden grail

And from whence or is it hence the finding of epiphany in the bliss

Before I endeavour to office of Sun and stars drawn in shale

I can hear here, there, the constellation scintillates in a hiss

As I come to this lonely island I have cherished all the life and stories told in tales

I see God’s purrs through the clouds as the light shine ice and snow, I know of this

This endeavour of the deliverance of my people is of and off a grand scale

There are plenty of rad remixes of Lorde songs off her last album Melodrama floating about, but have you heard this recent remix of Green Light by PINES? As much as all the tracks off Melodrama were brilliant, Green Light is without a doubt my favorite. The Australian duo gives the track an atmospheric blustering, coruscant sparkling future bass re-fix that totally bucks the feel of the original. The green glow of this beautifully diaphanous re-imagination, an orchestral lush transformation, reveals a scintillating new side to Green Light. You can listen to PINES on Spotify, here.

A month or so ago, I posted a list of words that you should think about including in your writings. These were words I thought were beautiful and words that I found interesting. There were even some words I had never head of. You can find that post here. 

Since then, I have found a bunch more that you should also include in your writings. Enjoy! :)

aeonian (adj.): eternal; everlasting

archaic (adj.): marked by the characteristics of an earlier period; antiquated

bagatelle (n.): something of little value or importance; a trifle

bakemeat (n.): pastry; pie

beguile (v.): to influence by trickery, flattery, etc.; mislead; delude

burble (v.): to make a bubbling sound; bubble (2) to speak in an excited manner

cockcrow (n.): the time at which a cock characteristically crows; daybreak

coruscant (adj.): sparkling or gleaming; scintillating

deadwood (n.): the dead branches on a tree

deasil (adv.): clockwise or in a direction following the apparent course of the sun; considered as lucky or auspicious 

dundrearies (plural n.): long, full sideburns or muttonchop whiskers

earthshine (n.): the faint illumination of the part of the moon not illuminated by sunlight, as during a crescent phase, caused by the reflection of light from the earth 

eyesome (adj.): pleasant to look at

gleek (v.): to make a joke; jest

hearth (n.): the floor of a fireplace, usually of stone, brick, etc., often extending a short distance into a room

imprecate (v.): to invoke or call down (evil or curses), as upon a person

logomachy (n.): a dispute about or concerning words (2) an argument or debate marked by the reckless or incorrect use of words; meaningless battle of words

maudlin (adj.): tearfully or weakly emotional; foolishly sentimental (2) foolishly or mawkishly sentimental because of drunkenness 

nostrum (n.): a medicine sold with false or exaggerated claims and with no demonstrable value; quack medicine (2) a scheme, theory, device, etc., especially one to remedy social or political ills; panacea 

obviate (v.): to anticipate and prevent or eliminate (difficulties, disadvantages, etc.) by effective measures; render unnecessary 

palmy (adj.): glorious, prosperous, or flourishing (2) abounding in or shaded with palms

parapraxis (n.): a slip of the tongue or pen, forgetfulness, misplacement of objects, or other error thought to reveal unconscious wishes or attitudes 

piffle (n.): nonsense, as trivial or senseless talk

sagittate (adj.): shaped like an arrowhead

scrummy (adj.): scrumptious; delicious 

stravage (v.): to wander aimlessly (2) to saunter; stroll

sylvan (adj.): of, relating to, or inhabiting the woods

tidings (n.): news, information, or intelligence 

toporific (adj.) causing torpor; causing sluggish inactivity 

winsome (adj.): sweetly or innocently charming; winning; engaging 

*A lot of these words came from various ‘Word of the Day’ calendars. All the Definitions came from Dictionary.com.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || The light from the half-opened curtains fall on his face and his heart flutters like a million butterflies. Harumi Hasashi was briefly here, and in an instance in a blink of an eye, she was gone. His chocolate-hued eyes dilate as if he needed to see her better. Fabric by fabric, how she would reveal the fathomless depths of him, body and soul and all that swells in-between his heartbeats. How he remains lain atop his tatami mat; with his elbows propped, head in his hands, and fading scintillation of his tears pooling up, the familiar heavy empty pain seated comfortably in his chest welling up as loneliness takes its place in the empty spaces, despite there being more permanent presence curled around him. 

Hanzo Hasashi would sigh as the familiar feeling fills him up; almost seeing to fill every crack and every hole inside of him in an attempt to make him feel whole, complete, as one, like patching concrete on sidewalks or cracks and potholes in a road, but it only accomplishes resentment and pain. As the burning candlelight of his heart coruscate off the glass of the small frame holding a sumi-e painting of his long-dead wife, Hanzo remembers that he, too, have a home beyond the construct of the long-gone past. 

He doesn’t have to temporarily dwell in the incorporeal, haunting devastation of the past, but sink in the sensual touch, running through the steeliness of his muscles, dipping and licking into honeyish sensation, sweeping, melting, as silent gossamer strokes comfort and stroke his back and encompass his chest. A delicate exhale ebb and flow through his entirety, as his coalescing arm encompasses his beloved’s own as he attempts to once again fall deeper and deeper into the lull of the sinking slumber.  ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||