Hello! Today, I would like to discuss my thoughts on the movie, Moana. Ever since it came out, it’s safe to say that it has been a success, from doing well at the box office, positive critical reception, to nominations in several award shows. However, I feel like it’s still not as recognized as it should be, compared to other Disney films like Frozen, Big Hero 6, Zootopia, etc. That is why today I am going to go into my thoughts on why Moana, the movie, deserves more in terms of recognition and credit among the Disney canon.
First off, I am going to respond to the criticism that of Moana following the Disney formula too much. I can agree that at the basic structure of the movie, it DOES follow the past formula of Disney movies pretty much. But the story itself is MORE than that. Even though Moana wants to see more in the world, kinda like in Ariel, Belle, etc, it is shown in the movie that she truly wants to help her village. In the sequence of her learning to lead her village and doing her best to solve the problems, something that is RARELY seen in Disney movies, female leads doing their jobs of leaders, we see Moana enjoy partaking in her community and handle things with competence and calm, so it truly makes her struggle with her desire to go to the ocean. Some people argue about the overprotective dad trope in Moana’s father, Tui, but he only has a few minutes of screen time so it is nothing to get too riled up over, in my opinion.
Some people argued that Maui left for no reason but it is understandable why he left. He got mad that his hook, an item that was important to him, was broken and was on the verge of being destroyed for good. He was understandably mad at Moana as she made a reckless choice and to some degree selfish, as seen in the line where she says that she thought that she could make it as well. But we as the audience are meant to know that Maui still was wrong for leaving. Some people argue that we never knew what made him come back but I think it’s insinuated enough that he thought thinks over (possibly with Mini Maui). And he also works afterwards with Moana to help get her to restore the heart of Te Fiti. Everyone seems to forget that he RISKED his life to help buy Moana time. When you watch the movie again, Te Ka was looking at Moana and Maui noticed this. So he gets Te Ka to notice him and Te Ka is about to fireball and kill Maui until Moana shines the heart at her. And Maui does apologize to Te Fiti at the end of it. At first it’s awkward but that'a how it is in real life. He even says that he had no excuse for what he done, so that’s really important to take into account.
The culture in Moana I believe is shown is a beautiful way. They clearly did a lot of research, as seen with the trips and long time spent on it. They also had a voice cast that reflected Polynesian culture. It may not be 100% accurate as they did have to Disney-fy some of it for the movie, but’s safe to say it is a respectful representation that encourages you to look more into Polynesian culture after you watch the movie.
The music in Moana is also PHENOMENAL and it has made its mark on Disney Music History. With talents such as Opetaia Foa'i, Mark Mancina, and Lin Manuel Miranda, you can’t go wrong. The voice performances especially make the music emotionally resonate, especially that of Auli'i Cravalho, whom I’m eternally grateful that Disney got her for the job and hope to see more of her in the future. Dwayne Johnson also does a fantastic job as Maui, both delivering charm and charisma in his singing and voice acting.
There’s also different ways that scenes are done that have a big impact on this movie. Such as the “I Am Moana” scene, when Gramma Tala’s spirit comes back to Moana, but she reunited with Moana in the way that any grandmother and granddaughter would, embracing each other openly. Tala also validates Moana’s emotions at the moment and admits that she never should have put so much responsibility on Moana (something I usually never see in these type of stories). And she fully says to Moana that she and her family support her no matter what, allowing Moana to think and realize for herself who she is and remind herself of why she is on her mission. THIS is what makes the scene so ICONIC.
Moana’s animation is also breathtakingly beautiful and so engaging. When I saw this on the big screen, it made me want to just jump into the water. And the colors are so vibrant and make the movie so full of life! The humor in this movie is also very done well. I love how the water who is personified in this acts as a character and serves its own comic relief. Hei-Hei the chicken is also extremely funny in him just acting like a dumb rooster. His own presence of him being totally unaware and his reaction to him discovering he’s out in the ocean is just plain hysterical.
This movie just has so much to offer anyone and has an inspiring heart of its own. This movie is dripping with Disney heart and I hope Disney brings more of Moana in the future and continue to do so. I recommend this movie to EVERYONE because I believe that this movie is universal and speaks to everyone on its level. I strongly encourage you to continue to support it and I will as well. 🌊⛵️🏝🌺🐚🌸🐷🐔⭐️🌟🐠🐟🐋🦀🐚⛵️
muses: ceo!yoongi x heiress!reader genre: angst, smut, fluff words: 2.8k note: this was meant to be under 1k bc it’s supposed to be a drabble but. please forgive me for the upcoming ceo au’s
warning: sexual tension, oral, “get on your knees, yoongi.”
you knew him, not personally per se. but you might as well claim to with all the things you’d been hearing of that man. at the age of 22 he had graduated college and immediately got into the business. two years later, he’d earn his masters degree and his startup had been blowing up with established business pledging alliance and overpouring promising clients waiting to sign contracts of agreement before others waltzed in and stole the chance.
and yet, you refused to be one of the many that’d worshiped the ground he stood on. you detested the need to have him as an affiliate. you loathed having to put on the ivory, skin tight dress, wear your hair up and don yourself the bloodiest red on your lips. and you gravely hated having to sit across from the man who didn’t even bat an eye at you as though you were another pretty instrument he would keep within his chambers as your father discussed the terms of the agreement with cold sweat running down his temple - as if this man was beyond god. min yoongi - what a humble name for a god though.
“the things here all belong to you, you may do as you like, go along with your routine as before so long as you do your part in the contract - appear as my beautiful loving fiancee in public events.”
I loved the trilogy. LOVED IT. It took over my life for the last week (fortunately, I was on vacation). ACOMAF is such a great book, with ACOWAR a close second. Rhys and Feyre are seriously OTP material and I want to read about their adventures forever. And get all those answers still missing (because seriously, SO MUCH STILL TO UNRAVEL).
However, there’s this small thing nagging me. And that is the fact that Maas is clearly very inspired by Anne Bishop’s Black Jewels saga - perhaps an inch more than what I think is healthy (and usual in ALL authors), if we are talking about a published author and not fanfiction. Because Rhys and Daemon Sadi (almost all of it - the powers, the sex slavery, the masks they wear to hide the dreamer behind, the snark, the devotion)? Cassian and Lucivar? Court of Dreams and the Dark Court? Illyrian and Eyrien? Just to name the more blatant things. She added just enough for me to forget it most of the times. Most of the times.
And now I have an entire new world to explore on Tumblr!
Pharoah Sanders - Jewels of Thought (1969) (Impulse! Records)
Jewels of Thought was recorded at Plaza Sound Studios in New York City on October 20, 1969 and was released later that year. I forgot how good this three song album was until yesterday. Although it’s only 3 songs, Jewels of Thought is about 43 minutes of pure music. Every time I get halfway through this album I start to hear more than the music, I hear the feeling. I can’t explain it. This album is beautiful, and you should all listen to it someday. OR You can listen to the song “Hum-Allah-Hum-Allah-Hum-Allah” from the album at the top of this post.
A/N:When you get the distinct feeling that you’re writing things that you shouldn’t but you do it anyway because fuck it, honestly.
Cor had left you alone in the small chamber to make sure nothing had trailed after the two of you. Gladio had left earlier to complete a trial on his own. You sighed as you leant up again the wall of the cavern, happy for the moment of peace.
There was no way you could have let Gladio leave on his own. You knew something had been eating him up after the encounter with Ravus. You had known Gladiolus your entire life, he was your closest friend, pretty much a brother and there was no doubt that you had picked up that imperceptible change in his demeanour. As soon as he had declared that he was going to handle some business on his own, you had followed after him leaving no room for argument. Noctis had Prompto and Ignis with him so he would be fine.
At the time you didn’t realise Gladio had called up Cor for help, but it didn’t hurt having you around. Even if the Amicitia didn’t express it, you knew he was happy to have your support. He always was.
A white peacock feather, a deep purple pearl, a silver necklace with a large red jeweled pendant and a ebony hair comb studded with blue gemstones.
This is what I found on my bedside dresser this morning.
Like the other things Peter thinks he’s sneakily left me, I opened the top drawer and swept the items onto the ever growing pile of lavish gifts.
“This needs to stop,” I mumbled to myself. But I still smiled to myself because I love the attention.
I know very well that Peter isn’t the type for trinkets. In fact we are very similar in what we like. Weapons, games, pranks.
It confuses me that he thinks I would like anything like the gifts he leaves me.
I’m not even sure he knows I know it’s him. He never says anything and neither do I.
Not until today. I decided to see how far he would go to get me something I liked.
I reached back into the draw and pulled out the red jeweled necklace before heading off to breakfast.
“What’s that?” Tootles asked me as I held it in my hand while eating bread by the fire.
“It’s just a gift one of the boys has left me,” I sighed.
“Why are you sighing?” he asked. “It it not something you like?”
I noted Peter subtly listening to our conversation on the other side of the fire pit.
“It’s not that I don’t like it,” I said slightly louder to be sure Peter heard me. “It’s just these gifts I’m getting are becoming repetitive. I don’t know who’s leaving them but a girl living on and island only needs so many necklaces and combs,”
Peter’s face looked like head realised something. Then he stood and walked off into the forest.
I smiled to myself.
“Why are you smiling?” Tootles asked, reminding me he was still sitting by my side.
“Because Peter heard everything we were talking about,” I laughed lightly. “I know it’s him leaving all these gifts and I’m trying to see what he’ll get me if he thinks I’m not satisfied with my presents.”
“That makes you seem ungrateful,” he smirked at me.
“I’m grateful for the effort and attention,” I said thoughtfully. “But being one of the few boys that actually speaks to me you know very well that I’m not one for girly things,”
“This is true,” he laughed. “Are you ever going to give me back my knife?”
“Hey I won that knife fair and square,” I grumbled. “It’s about time you stop referring to it as yours,”
The following day I woke up to a parcel on my bedside dresser. Brown paper tide with twine.
I sat up with and eager smile and tore open the paper, revealing a beautiful wooden box, stained a deep caramel colour. The latch and lid hinges were a polished brass and on the bottom was a velvet finish to give it grip.
I smirked at the effort and opened the box. In it was rows of plush velvet covered cushions each holing several jeweled rings.
“Really?” I thought aloud. “I said I was over necklaces so I get rings instead?”
One towards the centre of the box caught my eye. It was a simple steel band with a strange symbol etched into it.
It didn’t house any jewels or gems.
The symbol didn’t look to mean anything, simply decoration.
“This is nice…” I hummed and pulled the ring from the cushion.
I slipped on on my middle finger but found it too tight, then on my ring finger but found it too loose.
Eventually I put it on my right thumb and smiled as I held my hand before me, admiring the tough look it gave my small hand.
An idea suddenly popped into my head to put some other gifts to use that I would enjoy.
I rummaged through the draw and managed to find 7 feathers all seemingly from different birds.
I wove them into some small warrior braids running along my hairline from the top of my ears to the nape of my neck, one on either side with feathers tied in at the bottom as well.
I got a few looks from the boys on my way to breakfast, clearly about my hair, doubtfully about the ring.
“Nice style,” Tootles grinned as I sat between him and Cubby. “I filled Cubby in on your plan to mess with Peter,”
“Thanks,” I grinned at the compliment. I held out my hand so they could see the ring too. “I got this among others this morning,”
“I wish Peter was in love with me,” Cubby sighed, earning confused looks from Tootles and I,
“Are you in love with Peter?” I asked. “I didn’t know you swung that way,”
“What? No!” Cubby seemed to realise what he’d said and his reaction brought laughter from Tootles and I.
“I just want gifts!” Cubby reached around me and whack Tootles in the arm.
“Ease off now boys,” I laughed. “I still want to enjoy my breakfast,”
“Shh Peter’s coming,” Tootles nudged me.
“I’m talking about breakfast why do I need to shush?” I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Just the other thing,” he whispered as Peter sat down in his usual spot on the opposite side of the fire pit.
“Hey check this,” Cubby giggled a little before speaking louder. “Y/N did you get any gifts today?”
Peter’s head shot up like a sleeping dog who heard someone say ‘walk’
“I found a box of ring on my dresser,” I smiled. “It’s a nice change from necklaces but seriously, who needs jewelry on Neverland?”
“Well you would look rather fetching with that red pendant you had yesterday stuffed between your-”
“Tootles!” I whack the black and white clad boy in the arm. “How lewd! I never took you for a lecher!”
I huddled slightly closer, noticing the anger appearing on Peter’s face.
“What the hell?” I hissed quickly.
“Just roll with it,” he hissed back and reached behind me to tap Cubby who nodded to say he would also go along with whatever Tootles was planning.
“I don’t know how your secret admirer is Y/N,” he said loud enough for Peter to hear. “But If I had the chance to win the affections of someone as beautiful as you I would find a way off this island and bring you a dragon!”
he winked and gestured to Peter with his eyes.
I glance quickly at him and saw how intently he was listening.
Then Cubby joined in.
“As one of you closest friend my dear Y/N,” he said dramatically. “I know that you do not care for trinkets nor would you have use of a dragon. Even if silly Tootles could find a way off Neverland and manage to survive not only meeting a dragon but capturing it. If I were to attempt to win your affections I would present you with armor fashioned from Tootle’s dragon’s hide,”
I laughed at the fake battle boys we having over me.
“Well I thank you for both of your suggestions but sadly neither of you are my secret admirer,” I smiled then added. “He who is though should reveal himself soon or find something practical fitting of a lost girl,”
I made sure to enunciate lost girl enough so maybe he’d catch on to something less girly as I watched him run his hand through his hair thoughtfully before vanishing.
The next morning I was eager to find what was left for me and found pretty iron key with a little bow tied to the handle.
I sat up and saw by the foot of my bed, a large wooden chest, likely what the key unlocks.
I grabbed the key and knelt in front of the chest and opened it to discover piles of clothes.
I held up a pair of pants that resembled those of a wealthy horse rider.
“Seriously?” I mumbled as I rummaged further into the chest
I saw a deep red piece of silky fabric and gently tugged the whole thing to the surface.
I wasn’t sure what I was holding until I stood in front of the full body mirror that seemed to company the chest.
I wanted to scowl but I was surprised by the lovely sight before me.
The item was a floor length gown that trailed far along the ground.
“Hmm…” I smiled slightly as I though of going to a gala in this.
Then I remembered how much i hate galas. And where I was.
I growled and tossed the dress back into the chest.
“Peter!” I shouted once I’d left the camp, unable to find him.
“Yes?” his voice came from above me.
I looked up and saw him lounging on a tree branch carving something wooden, rounded and intricate like a ring but much larger.
“I said that you should either reveal yourself or present me something fit for a lost girl,” I put my hand on my him triumphantly as I saw him stiffen in shock. “A chest full of pretty clothes is not what I had in mind,”
“How did you know it was me?” he looked at me nervously.
I was surprised to see our fearless leader show nerves like that of a young boy.
“I’ve known the whole time!” I half shouted. “For starters who else has access to the type if things? The other boys can’t leave to get them and the imagination power of the island cant create something wish such quality. and secondly I’ve seen you sneaking around my tent at night! I’m a light sleeper,”
He looked thoughtful for a few moments.
“So the things you’ve been saying to Tootles and Cubby about your disinterest in the gifts,” he started slowly. “It was a trick?”
“I wanted to see if you’d catch on that I don’t like girly things,” I huffed with a smirk.
“How am I meant to catch on to that?” he laughed, jumping down from his spot in the tree. “What kind of things do you like?”
“Not fancy chests full of dresses and riding pants,” I rolled my eyes. “We don’t even have horses on Neverland, what am I meant to ride? Ground hogs out in the forest?”
he laughed then. I could see my jokes and calm demeanor we making him less nervous.
“Why do you keep leaving gifts for me?” I folded my arms over my chest.
“You haven’t figured it out?” he raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Oh no of course I have I just want you to say it,” i smirked evilly.
“Say what?” he copied my smirk as he stepped closer.
“You like me,” I drew out the word ‘like’ in a girly voice to tease him.
“Shut up,” he laughed stepping close enough that I had to crane my neck to look up at him.
“It’s okay because I like you too,” I grinned.
He held up the wooden ring he’d been carving so I was able to see it was a crown.
“What do you think of this?” he offered it to me.
“I like it,” I smiled as i turned it over in my hands. “But is it really fit for a lost girl?”
“Perhaps not a lost girl,” he too the crown from my hands and placed it lightly on my head. “But it is fit for a queen,”
I closed the space between us and kissed him harshly on the lips. He wrapped his arms around my waist while mine slinked up into his hair.
Then I pulled away and smiled.
“But seriously though I want cool knives or some shit,”
Prompt 3: historical Everlark – Peeta is a reformed rake and a jealous Katniss
Rating: T (to start with)
Notes: This first bit is quite short but I realised I didn’t have time to write all that I wanted and so I have decided to turn this into a WIP. Oops. Probably a bad idea but I do have an outline of where this is going so that’s something!
I don’t know about you all but I was really interested in the rings on James’s fingers, and I couldn’t shake the thought that one of them belonged to Thomas. Enjoy!
James did not have many keepsakes.
Being the captain of a ship, one rarely had time to worry
about a host of possessions that might be important to him. At the most, he had
about four things that mattered most to him: his copies of Don Quixote, La Galatea, and
Meditations, and a teacup Miranda let
him take when the Walrus was docked
one day. These were small in size, could easily fit into a bag to carry along one
went should the need for a getaway arise. Though they were small, they held a
weight so heavy James sometimes felt overwhelmed by their presence. At night,
when all were asleep but his thoughts kept him wide awake, his gaze would drift
to the bookshelf, eyes homing in on the two titles instantly. He would be
brought back to the stately room of a Lord and Lady that echoed with laughter
and heated analysis of Quixote and his companion Panza as they traveled along
the windmill laden landscapes of Spain. James would remember the way Miranda’s
eyes widen with delight at his (sorry) attempts at reading in different voices,
or the way Thomas’s brows would arch at a thoughtful addition to their
discussion of what the windmills might symbolize.
Then with a loud creak from the ship or an especially loud
yelp from someone on deck, James would be ripped out of his memory, and find
himself once again in the rocking cabin of his ship.
James’s eyes drift toward the teacup; small white and blue
thing that was chipped at the corner when rough sea toppled it over.
Thankfully, James was quick to catch it before it led to being broken beyond
repair. A small, tangible reminder that James had someone to return to in
Nassau, to fight for; to remind him that though…He was gone, Miranda was still alive and well. He does not want to
think too long on the fact that, even ten years later, he cannot bring himself
to even think of Thomas’s name, the pain being too much to bear.
There was something else of value to him, something far more
reaching than the books or the cup.
His gaze would move downward, to his right hand that housed
his rings. He gathered up more extravagant ones in the decade of piracy, but
the one that was most important to him was the simplest of them all. With a
shaking hand, he slipped it off, the simple silver band. No engravings, no
jewels, nothing. James thought it was one of the most beautiful things he had
ever seen. He will never forget when he received it.
It was a warm spring
day, one London hasn’t seen in a long while. The sun decided to make an appearance
longer than five minutes today, and the weather decided to stay above brisk for
once. Thomas insisted that they take advantage of the day, closing away his
books and notes and asking James if he wanted to stroll in his garden. After
being assured that no servants would be around today, he said yes.
Which led James
outside to the Hamilton gardens, a wide expanse of flowers of all sizes and
colors, alighting James’s senses. The sweet smell of the flowers and trees
wrapped around his nostrils while his eyes were greeted with color after color
and plant after plant. Birds sung high songs welcoming the first real day of
the new season. The two men wore nothing formal on them this afternoon,
forgoing regalia and navy uniform for their simple white linen shirts, and
their trousers, allowing the sun to grace more of their skin than just their
“This means you’ll get
more freckles,” Thomas said, delighted.
“More to count, more
work for you,” said James with a smirk.
“No, it’s never work.
It’s only a joy,” Thomas said softly. James didn’t bother ducking to hide his
They walked in a
comfortable silence for a little while after that, being content to listen to
the birds and the light babble of the fountain in the middle as they walked. They
walked shoulder to shoulder, bodies brushing against each other with each
footfall, a quiet reminder of the other one’s presence. James can’t remember
the last time he felt so peaceful.
They stopped at the
gazebo that was at the end of the garden trail, taking a seat inside of it.
James marveled at the roses that looped and wrapped around the pillars, pink
and peach and red and some yellow for good measure. He inhaled deep, letting
the smell of the flowers calm him even more.
Imagine losing the man you loved…and getting a second change to see him again.
Things rarely worked out like they were planned…
You stared at your wedding band between your fingers. You’d wanted to put it on again and feel the lightness you once felt. However, you knew it would just feel heavy and cold.
You slid it on staring at the jewel you once thought was so clear and pretty. Now it was dull and unimportant…
You stared at your hand feeling your nose begin to tickle. You reached over to pull it off when a bright light flashed in your living room.
You stood up the wind from this light blowing everything around the room. You stared at it and as you took a step back you realized this whirling vortex wasn’t blowing it was sucking.
Your feet began to slide against the carpet. You reached for the couch with no avail, your fingernails just scraped across the fabric.
“No…no no… not like this…” You cried as you fell getting sucked through.
Everything was a blurring mess as you tried to grab onto anything to stop from falling. Faces and images started to appear around you. Was this your life flashing before your eyes, was this what he saw too? As things became too overwhelming you shut your eyes hoping it would just end.
“Be careful!” You heard someone hissing.
“She fell through the breach…we have to help her.”
“I thought they were all closed…”
“Jesse…go get help.”
“I am help.” Jesse hissed.
“Jesse…” Your eyes opened up slowly the bright lights only allowing you to view a silhouette of a man above you. His face turned to you as your eyes began to adjust slowly, “Oh…it’s okay, you’re safe.”
“Wh…” You started to sit up.
“Stay still.” You felt his hand gently hold you down, “You hit your head pretty hard.
You looked back at him again as his face came into full view, “Harry?”
He looked at you surprised, “…I…I’ll explain once we get you someplace safe, but I’m not your Harrison Wells.”
“How…” You started to tear up, “Is this a joke?”
“No.” He shook his head pushing up his glasses, “I’m afraid not…”
“Dad…” You both felt a wind against your faces, “ambulance is on the way.”
“Thank you Jesse.” He smiled a little before looking at you again.
You looked over to a young woman then back to him, “What is going on?”
He squinted a little, “You fell through what we call a breach, a portal…it may sound strange, but somehow our worlds connected…it brought you here, outside my lab.”
You looked around. Everything looked the same…everything…felt real. Then you looked at him. He looked the same too.
You felt a tear fall down your face, “You’re sure I’m not dead…”
He laughed a little a small smile appearing in his eyes, “I assure you, you are not.”
“But you…are…” You reached up touching his face. Real…solid…You were starring into heaven’s eyes again, “You’re here…”
Today I had a face-to-face conversation that, while ultimately more rewarding than painful, was also terribly awkward and difficult (due to the subjects we covered, including gender and mental health) so that I spoke very haltingly, made strange mistakes, often spent several minutes just trying to think of the right word for what I wanted to express (one time I knew it in English and got so frustrated I consulted a dictionary, which couldn’t even help me), and sometimes the phrases I heard coming out of my mouth sounded like something a child would say. This is not uncommon, these days - it used to be less frequent and less pronounced before The Autistic Burnout™, but by now … pfft. I’m used to it. All I can do is barrel on and hope my point will get across eventually.
There is a certain situational irony in that. Or rather, in me. I, as a person, am filled with situational irony, if you will, which sounds odd because I’m not a situation. But I digress.
I’ve always had a knack for languages, and language, singular. My mother claims I sounded like an adult at age two, but now I’m thirty and sometimes sound like a child. (See? Ironic.) Back in school, friends would ask me for help wrapping their heads around concepts they struggled with in classes I was good at, and I loved the challenge of explaining something I understood intuitively to someone who lacked that affinity for the subject. I greatly enjoy rephrasing and simplifying complex ideas until even children, novices, and skeptics will get it.
Technically, I still possess that talent.
So I exist in this unlikely state of quantum superposition where I am both particularly good and particularly bad at expressing myself at the same time. I appreciate the paradoxical nature of it because it fits my Personal Theme™, though I’d certainly prefer it if I could just, fuckign- *clenches fist* MAKE THEM WORDS COME OUT RIGHT.
Anger, amusingly, works wonders for this: as I get more and more worked up about a subject, you can practically watch the frequency of my pauses and errors decrease. The angrier I am, the more fluid my speech (barring complicating factors such as trauma triggers and secondary emotions). Oops.
It waxes and wanes on its own, too. I’m still holding out hope that getting my physical health problems under (relative) control will grant me improved concentration and thereby positively affect this as well. *sighs*
I just listened to all of Be More Chill (it was amazing omg). I’m in love with Michael and Jeremy. Is it just me or does anyone see any Hamilton parallels between them… like Alexander and Eliza?? Like Two Player Game is their Helpless while Michael in the Bathroom is totally Burn? What do you guys think?
Earendil never wanted the Silmaril, and would have
traded it for the people of Sirion in a heartbeat.
He would have traded it
for his sons in even less.
But the world is cruel, and sadistic to the son of Tuor, and for all his hate
for the damned jewel that his wife thought so worthy to be saved, it is sealed
to his head.
Not hers. His.
It is his burden to bear,
not hers. And oh, how he hates her
For It screams to him.
The souls of his people
call out to him, the Silmaril their vessel. And it is heavy with death, heavy with
sadness, and he swears that some nights,
he is flying into the fires of Alqualondë instead of the
He swears that he watches
above head as his wife jumps into the ocean, Silmaril clutched to her breast,
while his people fall at the blade.
Somedays he is a living
object in Feanor’s forge, his head burning as if coals dance within his skull.
Other days he is deathly cold, just as the jewel that sat atop of Morgoth’s
Yet if there is an upside
to his forced voyages through the sky, they provide him with the distance from
his wife necessary to ensure that he never hates her, to prevent his muddled
brain from confusing her with an orc or agent of Morgoth.
To prevent his utter
disgust from getting the best of him.
He often wonders what
would have happened had he been in
Sirion during the Kinslayings, he wonders what choices he would have made to
save his people. Certainly, he would have evacuated them, would have sent his
sons to safety before all else.
He wishes—oh how he
wishes—that he had been there. Things would have been different.
For the life of him, he
cannot visit Elrond, as his ship will not stop above Imaldris. He has though,
on multiple occasions, wondered why his bird of a wife has never visited,
though figures Elrond is too dull and organic to warrant her concern. For she
seems to only liven when Earendil returns, eyes darting immediately to his brow
where the Silmaril rest.
If possible he would, he
would gladly throw his burden on her, for she risked their livelihood for it. He
would rather see her soaring through the sky with the jewel strapped to her
At least he would have
his people. at least he would have his sons.
But the world is cruel to
Earendil, and the night draws on.
So this is our first attempt at a joint fanfiction. Prompt: Feysand - “You did all of this for me?” The rules were: to write 100 words, then after we had both written 100 words we switched POV between Feyre and Rhys. Enjoy bitches x
Keep them closed!” I had spent hours preparing, and there was no way in hell I was going to allow Rhys to spoil it. Leading him towards the table, I made sure that his eyes were still closed. “Alright, sit…” I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and whispered, “Open!” Rhys opened his eyes, staring at his plate.
“Pancakes?” I could hear his confusion.
“I know that to accept the bond, I only had to formally offer you food once. But I just wanted to show you that… I still choose you, Rhys, I still choose you each and everyday.”
My chest warmed as I brushed my hand through his hair.
“You’re more than worth the effort.”
I kissed him on his temple and moved to lean against the counter sipping contentedly at my coffee. A grin slowly morphed onto his face as he looked at the pancakes and then at me.
“Shut up and eat your pancakes.”
He began to devour them as if they would disappear. I shook my head laughing inside. He finished and lifted his gaze to mine and slowly, very slowly, licked around his mouth catching any traces of syrup…all except one…
I could see her eyes drop to my lips.
“You have some…” She pointed to the edge of her rosebud mouth.
“What? Where?” I feigned ignorance. She started to walk towards me, eyes caught on my lips.
“Right here…” Her lips crashed onto mine, her hands knotting themselves in my hair. I growled, pulling her roughly onto my lap, hands grasping hungrily at her back, her waist, her ass. She dipped her mouth to my neck and nipped me with her teeth. I swore, lifting her up with one arm and sweeping the dishes off the table with the other.
She let out a tinkling laugh that made my heart catch in my chest. I buried my face in her neck, setting her on the edge of the table, peppering kisses down her throat and nibbling her collarbone. Her hands scratched along the back of my neck before tracing the curve of my wing. I shuddered leaning into her, meaning to lay her flat and claim seconds. However she jumped up, grabbing my collar and lead me towards our bedroom.
“You ready for dessert?”
I entered to see palettes of paint laid out on every surface. Oh she was wicked.
The grin on Rhys’ face had made my hour of preparation worth the effort. I dipped a finger into a delicate shade of yellow. Walking towards him, I wiped the paint along his jaw, framing his face.
“Your turn,” I challenged, planting a kiss on his lips. In two strides he reached the table and dipped his thumb into a royal blue, then turned to me and brushed a trail of blue along my cheek.
“You know I love painting,” I teased, eyes glittering.
“I know you do…” He pushed me back towards the table, hands resting on my hips.
His fingers began teasing circles around my hips, trailing around to my ass. His forehead gently touched mine, and he kissed me hungrily before his lips moved to my ear.
“I confess that I’m starting to see the appeal myself,” he murmured.
His breath was hot and heavy and I quaked from my neck downward. I fumbled behind me and dipped my fingers into the nearest pot. He was still grinning wickedly. My thumb reached up and gently stroked his lips leaving a trail of purple paint, a slightly darker colour than his eyes, behind.
“Then paint for me Rhys…”
She didn’t need to ask twice. Hell, she didn’t even need to ask the first time. Pushing the paints aside, I laid her on the table, trailing hungry kisses from her ear to her jaw. Her hands in my hair made me growl. Kissing her harder, my hands grasped the front of her dress, ripping open the bodice. I wasn’t in the mood to wait. The unexpected sight of Feyre’s lacy undergarments made my breath catch.
“Feyre darling…” I kissed her neck, her breasts, her stomach, moving down, until a noise at the door stopped me. I turned around. Azriel.
“Uh-hmm sorry,” he said, averting his gaze. Beneath me I could feel Feyre adjusting her dress to allow her any shred of modesty but I caught her wrist.
“How urgent?” I asked through gritted teeth.
“Actually never mind, carry on,” his last words echoing down the corridor.
I chuckled, turning my head back down to Feyre, her face scarlet.
“I’m just glad it wasn’t Cassian”
The words barely passed her lips before the door flung open and the devil himself appeared.
“Az was just being polite as usual. Chop-chop my Lord and Lady we have a matter to attend to!”
“Cass you are an ass!” I yelled, sitting up and furiously adjusting my dress.
“Hey, that rhymes!” he grinned. Cassian only narrowly escaped the pot of paint I threw at his head, a leafy green splattering on the walls. Catching sight of the pot of fiery red in Rhys’ hand, Cassian took a step back. “Calm down lovebirds, I just thought you might want to know.”
“Know. What?” Rhys growled.
Leaning back against the wall, arms crossed, the epitome of relaxation, Cassian smirked and said,
“Amren is having a bit of a… tantrum, shall we say.” Then we heard her.
A bellowing screech echoed through the House of Wind. I could feel Rhys freeze against me, our shared glance full of worry. Instantly Rhys was bolting past Cassian, me hot on his heels. We burst onto the balcony in a whirl of talons and night. Amren stood in the middle of the room, quiet deadly rage spilling off her. Panic set in until I saw Mor standing near the open balcony doors desperately choking back a laugh.
“Amren, talk,” Rhys demanded.
“Cubic zirconia,” she seethed.
She flung a diamond encrusted necklace towards us.
“Jeweller thought I wouldn’t notice?
This was not happening. I spun around to face Cassian, seething with rage.
“You, the most powerful Illyrian to ever live, couldn’t take care of this?”
“I don’t know about you, but I’m petrified,” he crooned, that damn half smirk on his face. I clenched my fists. Breathe, my love, trickled down the bond. I took a deep breath.
“What is going on?” This was not happening. Mor, who had been uncharacteristically quiet up until this point, exploded with laughter.
“GOT YOU!” She collapsed in a heap on the floor. “When…when we got home I switched them and you…”
I stood dumbfounded. Mor was rolling on the floor cackling wildly, Cassian roaring at Amren’s face, even Az who had slunk in quietly behind us had a quiet smile on his face. His eyes glimmered when he caught sight of Mor on the ground.
“Did you know about this?” I demanded.
“No idea what you’re talking about,” he said, handing Amren a necklace identical to the one she had thrown.
“Pack of hooligans…” Amren grumbled. A few seconds passed before Feyre doubled over laughing and the rest joined in.