#evernight drama

[palehorsemen]

Cdrama posters Part 1

The Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty

The Blood of Youth

Ever Night

Miss the Dragon

Legend of Yunxi

Dance of the Phoenix

[lisia81]

Help da chi l’ha già guardata: vale veramente la pena di vedere la seconda stagione di Ever Night? NON rispondetemi, si per Dylan Wang! Preferisco 100. 000 Feiyu 😅. Oltretutto i cambi di volto dei protagonisti mi fanno un brutto effetto (vedi go go squid 2).

Dalla locandina ho visto che Fuzi c’è. Questo implica che, quell’amabile vecchietto, con la sua bacchetta, a miglia miglia di distanza, possa ancora chiudere la bocca a qualche befana!

Non so, se questo possa però bastare a convincermi.

La suspance,calata sul finale, è inesistente. Magari Sang Sang ci avesse lasciato le penne! Sarebbe la fine di un rapporto, che qualche psicanalista avrebbe bisogno di analizzare!

La mia testa può capire il rapporto simbiotico, le avversità di una vita dura e di sofferenza che ti legano, l’amore fatto dal crescere insieme come fratello e sorella. Ma non me lo puoi trasformare in: ti sposo perché siamo sempre stati insieme e quindi non riesco pensare di vivere una vita senza che mi prepari i tagliolini in agrodolce.

È la stessa cosa di, non vado via di casa e divento indipendente, perché mamma mi fa le migliori lasagne al mondo e con lei vivo senza preoccupazioni di lavarmi le mutande!

La parte del rubacuori da buon 19 enne, Nin Que c’è l’ha per tutte tranne che per Sang Sang. Sarà per questo che ha acquistato una casa con tante dependance? Ci vuole piazzare in una la Maniaca dei libri e in un’altra quella del Daonismo? Quest’ultima poi ha già messo le tende con buona pace di Sang Sang. Personaggio complesso quello di He Hongyu, deve avere una sua storia segreta particolare. Il suo sguardo alla battuta di Nin Que sulla violenza subita meriterebbe un approfondimento che lo sceneggiatore ha deciso di non darci (tanto per cambiare).

Per quanto riguarda Mo Shan Shan, il nostro paladino addirittura piange quando lei se ne va. Si vedeva lontano un miglio che lo aveva cotto allo spiedo lento. Ma ragazzo mio, se le davi il tempo, magari sapeva cucinare pure lei nella maniera classica! Oltretutto nel periodo in cui non sono stati insieme, Nin Que e Sang Sang hanno instaurato altri rapporti, scoperto se stessi e sono cresciuti come persone. Un paio di annetti a Xyling coi i genitori ritrovati a Sang Sang non gli avrebbero fatto male. Giusto per uscire dalla pubertà e capire cosa vuole dalla vita a parte fare da balia a Nin Que. Mi è piaciuta la storia, questo fantomatico stato del Tang così liberale,mi sono piaciuti molto i discepoli di Fu Zi è il loro interagire.

Primo c’è un motivo per cui è primo (è l’unico sveglio e con un certo fascino) e Dodicesimo è troppo simpatico nella sua insicurezza e complessità! Mi piacerebbe capire il fine ultimo del signore del tempio che mi ricorda tanto il Gran Sacerdote dei cavalieri dello zodiaco, se l’imperatrice è buona o è tutta una finta, ma boh, sarà perché è il mio primo drama fantasy, sarà che mi sono già sparata 60 puntate, non so veramente se continuare. I personaggi sono tanti, infinito, spariscono per decine di puntate per poi ritornare 30 secondi e sparire nuovamente. Del tipo Chao Xia Shu, dobbiamo chiamare chi l’ha visto? Aspetto in illuminazione di luce, possibilmente non prodotta da Long Qing.

[away-ward]

Things that happen in the Willemmy friends-to-lovers au I now have playing on repeat in the back of my mind:

It's after Will's graduation and there is a party at the warehouse.

Emory shows up with Elle because she thinks this is the last opportunity she'll have to see Will. She doesn't usually waste her time with parties. She doesn't plan on talking to him. She just wants to watch for a while.

He clocks her the second she walks in. He's been wanting to talk to her for a long time but she always seemed to give him the cold shoulder when he tried to approach. He didn't know how to get in with her.

He circles for a while, not wanting to jump on her and scare her away. Eventually he finds his opening and they end up talking for a while.

They end up talking right into the backseat of his truck and Will can't believe this is happening.

She slows things down, somewhat unintentional, but she's also just nervous. This wasn't her plan... she does really like him... but this is stupid. Acting rashly like this is how you get pregnant or an STD.

They end up talking and making out all night. Mostly talking though. She can't stop herself from being critical of his privilege. He can't stop thinking she's beautiful. And smart. Smarter than him that's for sure. He's not sure why they're not having sex. That's what he's good at. All they're doing is talking, but she hasn't left yet...

They talk until the sun starts coming up. They get out and watch the sunrise from the bed of his truck. It's another Thunder Bay Holiday, similar to evernight, devil's night, and firenight, and Will tells her about it's history and tradition. She asks if he's not doing anything, could they spend the day together.

The tradition picks up later in the evening, so technically his morning is free. But he's never spent the day with a girl he spent the night with, even if they technically didn't sleep together.

He says yes anyway.

There's other stuff that follows the other plots of one day, but one of the things that happens is

After em graduates and goes to SF, Will texts her from wherever he's traveled to. Sometimes he's not also in the most sober condition. This time he is. He's a little lonely even though he's surrounded by people. It's early in SF (he keeps a clock on his phone that tells him the time in three place: wherever he's at, Thunder Bay, and SF), but he texts her what he's thinking anyway. She'll probably read all his nonsense when she wakes up, roll her eyes, send back an emoji and then carry on with her day. But to his surprise she's up.

He doesn't know what to say now, knowing she's paying attention. His words are so much more important now.

She tells him about thea, her roommate and all the drama surrounding her. It sounds like fun. It sounds like she enjoyed her first year away from Thunder Bay. His first year away was horrible, but he made it through. Kinda.

In fact, it's summer again. She might be home already. He asks if she'll be home for the summer. He hopes the answer is yes.

She says she and thea found an apartment to rent with some others. She'll be working in SF, but might be home sometime.

He doesn't know what to say. He wants to see her. Hates that she has to work instead of play during her time off.

She comments that she was lucky enough to get a bedroom with a good view. One of her new roommates has a view of the neighbor's brick wall.

He asks for a picture. She sends one from her bedroom window, and based on context, he can tell that the room is small. Her bed is pushed up against the window sill. He can see her knees in the picture, as if she hadn't bothered to move from where she was sitting. He now imagines her curled on her bed, sipping a cup of coffee, talking to him while watching the sunrise like she did two years ago.

He looks at that picture all the time.

Just thought you might like to know what happens when I reread the one day posts.

[m1d-45]

(writing a blurb about other fischl despite not knowing that much about the background of the ein immernachtstraum skin lore. forgive me if its off🗿)

other fischl (who im naming night or something similar(maybe nyx?)) who maintains her identity as the true prinzessin but would throw it all away for the sake of the creator. night who can see danger coming from miles away thanks to oz and his ability to be her eyes in the sky.

her electro might not be as volatile as red's pyro but she can still protect the creator just as well as he can! (maybe even better than red!) seeing that she uses a bow and has oz, she can better fight the knights of favonius in long ranged combat.

when red comes back bloodied and bruised, which she knows is on purpose to get creator's attention, she gets a little jealous. why can't she get that attention and love? obviously she should be getting more attention, she's the prinzessin der verurteilung! the two of them are on rocky ground but for the sake of the creator, they're willing to (mostly) put aside their differences. (and she hates to admit it but red does make for a good teammate)

night and fischl don't have as much drama as red and diluc do but that doesn't stop her from acting superior to fischl. after all, who protected the true creator during the hunt? not fischl. thats who.

all things aside, she'd lay down her life and her title as the prinzessin for the creator.

- curse anon

lotsa talk and fischl lore spoilers below!

Ein Immernachtstraum translates roughly to ‘an ever night dream’ (and i’d anybody who actually speaks german thinks that’s wrong, take it up with google translate <3) so i think ‘night’ works well!

also, i went back to the event (shout out to the genshin wiki. genshin wiki my dearly beloved. if nobody got me i know the genshin wiki got me) and reviewed the dialogue from the other-fischl—who’s referred to as ‘immernacht fischl’ or ‘evernight fischl’ which is a useless fact but here—and have essentially gathered this:

‘fischl’ is a persona. we’re aware of this—or i assume everyone is? or was that info revealed in the event??—and know that her real name is amy. the event (summertime odyssey, part 3 for the dialogue i saw by the way if you wanna read it yourself) takes this a step further, but first i’ll quickly recap some fischl lore. i’ll put a ‘recap over’ if you know and don’t wanna read it.

so! as i said, ‘fischl’ as we know her is actually amy. fischl is a character from an obscure book series titled “Flowers for Princess Fischl.” now, this princess fischl is the one that rules over the immernachtreich, this princess fischl is the one with a soulbond with a raven familiar and an entire kingdom.

amy, as a child, read these books and was, expectedly, a massive fan. her parents played along, calling her ‘fischl’ and playing into the essentially very advanced roleplay. as she grew up, she kept with this persona, even as she—i assume, her lore was a bit vague—was bullied for this persona. but her parents didn’t really say anything, and were assumedly supportive.

however, on her 14th birthday, when she went to her parents for comfort after another round of bullying, they said that she needed to drop the act. she was incredibly upset by this, naturally, and went to the library to console herself with her favorite books. that night, she received both her vision and oz.

(and then they had dinner with her parents and oz complimented her parents’ beans which is hilarious as a sentence)

recap done!

now, the ‘immernacht fischl’ is essentially the actual fischl, not amy. she’s a manifestation of all of amy’s insecurities, in essence, and in the event oz actually switches sides because, to paraphrase, “isn’t she my master too?”

all of this to say that night, the personification of ein immernachtstraum, which is the outfit that the immernacht fischl wore, is essentially the real fischl that amy has based her entire identity off of.

to finally get to your point: you are 100% correct on everything. night is better for long range, and fischl in canon can see through oz’s eyes so i assume the same for night, so she’s better for reconnaissance and looking out for threats. her and red make for a powerful overload team, but she’s 1000% jealous of the attention you pay to him. she never gets such injuries because she’s significantly less tanky, has less combat experience most likely, and is long-range, but she feels like it might be worth it to have you dote on her.

her and fischl have significantly less animosity than red and diluc, but there’s a fairly large caveat. whereas red hates diluc for his choice of priorities (and for the hunt) and diluc hates red because 1) he fuckin growled at him when they first met what the fuck 2) red just isn’t a good guy to anybody but you, night and fischl have a more one sided sort of hate.

fischl hates night. she views herself as the real fischl, and oz doesn’t even recognize night as the (a?) princess! there’s something severely wrong here, and she hates it.

but night could not give less of a fuck about fischl. she does not care. she views her as a cheap copy, one not worth paying any mind to. why would she? she has everything, and fischl had to make up what she has. she has the real ozvaldo hrafnavins, she rules over the real immernachtreich, and she had all of them since the moment she was brought to life by you. she doesn’t need a vision to give her copies- psh, its an insult to imply she’d ever be jealous.

oh, and to clarify the point i made about her being an illusionist: in the event, fischl’s domain—it’s hard to explain, but each of the characters involved had their personal domain like based off of them—involved a lot of perspective tricks! so i figured night would be able to make illusions with electro, or be able to manipulate her surroundings in impossible ways via said perspective tricks. i’m thinking of her like holding a pebble up to her eye and with a flash of magic, suddenly it’s a boulder blocking off the hunters’ path! her and morax make for a team when trying to cut off the hunters, and her and barbatos can be clever together to get you out of sticky situations.

oh, but of course, since she is a princess, she has an incredibly strong sense of loyalty. her and oz are more than willing to lay down their lives for you—but then again, so are the others.

[ruiniel]

Fandom: The Silmarillion

Characters: Glorfindel, Aegnor, Finrod, Argon, Turgon, Idril, Original Elf Character(s), more to be added

Relationship(s): Glorfindel/Original Female Character

Rating: M

Chapter count: 3k

Additional tags: Drama, The Helcaraxë, Middle-earth, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, The Silmarillion References, Beleriand, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Depictions of death, Glorfindel POV, POV alternating, Horror, Blood, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Pining, more to be added

Summary: An older story I've been rewriting, centered around a young Glorfindel and primarily written from his POV. Set on the background of the events of the First Age, it begins with the Flight of the Ñoldor from Aman to Middle-earth and focuses on the host crossing the Ice along their eventual destinations.

Also on ao3

I. The Ice - Enduring

Ice. As far as the eye can see there is endless, frozen nothingness. His lashes are frosted white, and he advances much like the others—slow and weary. Only recently, the host of Ñolofinwë had been abandoned by his half-brother Fëanáro upon the shores of Araman.

The latter took the ships of the Teleri, too few for the entire host to cross at once, and upon reaching Endor, burned them.

He presses his eyes shut, running a gloved hand over his face. Laurefindil yet sees the crimson light and great tongues of flame, the thick gray smoke rising against black skies in ill omen; the fairest crafted ships on all of Arda, become ash. The Elf turns his head as he walks, to the rest of the column struggling behind him, shoulders stiff and hunched, their faces grim but still imbued with the light of Aman; the only palpable reminder they were ever there. 

He'd questioned the wisdom of this decision to brave the wastes against the will of many among their host, but the shame of returning to face judgment for their deeds at the Swanhaven was a hard outcome to bear, and Ñolofinwë had decided against a retreat.

Now, as the Elf watches them falter and shrink and shiver in their unsuitable garments, he wonders. He glances upward, where the stars barely wink beyond a thick layer of fog settled in the evernight. Before, in Valinor, there were the Trees, their cycle aiding to measure the passing of time. Now there is nothing, and they march and march, without rest or light.

Are they damned, forever dispossessed, as the Emissary declared? The prescient words live ingrained into them all, and even as they were spoken most exiles quavered, and many would have returned then, if not for the will and trust in their leaders.

For blood ye shall render blood, and beyond Aman ye shall dwell in Death's shadow.

Death. The very concept was foreign to them until that first sacrilege, the first blood spilt. But like a monstrous truth it reared from thrashing waves, the ebbing of crimson and salt from the docks, from the gemmed sand stained red.

Alqualondë…

The horror of it never lifted, and never will, crashing over him again with the sights, the eerie silence broken by cries he never thought could come from one of his kind; the moment Death stained the lands at the very feet of the Valar.

His fine-soled boots slip on the ice; he falls to the ground. Slow to rise, Laurefindil takes deep breaths, and stems the renewed tide of emotion taking over, overwhelming him. Many of their own had already fallen on their journey, lost to battle or the Ice. 

Laurefindil lost his father. He thinks of Aistion, then of Wirya, his mother. She was among those who chose Valinor over exile, returning to Aman with Arafinwë upon first warning from the Valar. He thinks back to the silent farewell of his parents — the last he saw of them together. But at least his mother is safe now, or so he hopes, for after the withering of the Trees, they know: not even the Hallowed Realm is impregnable before the Moringotto.

And then, not long into their braving of this place, his father Aistion fell with a sudden crack beneath them, and the frozen waters and heavy shards had engulfed his body before his son or others could reach him. In the blink of an eye, Laurefindil was bereft of his family. The waters are a peril, and falling in means near-certain death. Indeed, now, they all know of Death. 

He wonders, yet again, how long it will take to cross this barren desert of mist, and how many will reach the lands they seek. The fogs give way ahead, revealing clear, crisp darkness, and the stars appear in short, weak flickers above them.

The Elves follow until at last, they walk beneath the patch of clear sky and soon they raise closely-knit camps, where resources are shared for the survival of all. Laurefindil walks among them, watching folk swiftly take refuge by a weak flame nurtured here or there, or in hastily raised tents. Everyone rests little and eats less, but then, of course, there is no nourishment in a place like this. His thoughts turn to his father again, his gaze seeking the light of the fires. The cold is a bitter and constant foe, and he must keep walking. 

They will endure. They must—

Laurefindil ceases his steps. Peculiar, but he hears... music?

Without warning, memories of Tirion infringe upon him. He discerns the refrain of a known ode, a good one at that, sung at many festivals. A light instrument, and a voice that glitters with the trilling warmth of summer birdsong. The Elf sheds the layer of sprinkling snow from his cloak, seeking the source. 

He soon reaches a vulnerable fire, where a group clusters together. Despite their hardships, the Eldar still seek comfort in song, in stories of their former bliss. Even here, even after everything. The notes of a flute reach him, and his gaze strays to the singer: a dark-haired Elf bundled in threads of blue and gray. Laurefindil listens, and the cold gives way to recollections of another life. The voice from before joins in, adding to the reverie, and in him trickles warmth.

His gaze settles on the one seated close to the flute player. Her face has a smattering of freckles, and her hair is dark, tinted auburn in the weak flame. Her words sigh with the flute, adding dimension to the story.

Rejoice that ye have found it,

They sing of Tirion. Her face is stony, unlike the passion in her voice. It comes in odd contrast with the uplifting words, which makes it no less intriguing. 

And rest... from endless war,

Laurefindil sees them: lush gardens, gold and silver lights mingling and embellishing the hills in strips of gold and green and blue. The cries of eagles rise near Taniquetil. His gaze wanders, set on curling locks of dark rust.

When her eyes shift from the flames and cut to his, Laurefindil catches himself staring. 

For the city 'tis,

that stands upon the hill...

She leans into the dark-haired one, who had ceased playing, his arm coming around her shoulders. Laurefindil briefly wonders about their connection, before her voice rises and sends him beyond time, before the murder of the High King and the theft of the Silmarilli; before the kin slaying, and the paths on the endless Ice.

His chin tips up to the skies, and thoughts of his father take him again. He sees the thick mists have returned, shrouding the patch of stars. There’s little else to do but move forward. His gaze falls upon the group again, upon her. Despite it all, they are here, freezing and struggling. Laurefindil draws his cloak closer around his shoulders and turns on his heel, fast steps leading away from the campfire. He seeks his own wares, eager to flee the voice and the memories it wrings but even to the far ends of the night, he hears it.

... where all who strive, find hope and valour still…

He opens a bleary eye, finding the camp astir. His limbs are numb and his neck aches from the unseemly position he'd fallen asleep in, propped against one cartwheel, close to where Ñolofinwë and his kin dwelt. Laurefindil stands, shedding the fine ice dust from his cloak, and rises to full height. Stretching his arms and legs, he turns and rummages through the cart to retrieve a bow and a quiver with arrows.

He begins his slow march, his feet heedful of the slippery ice. A few known figures emerge and cross his path, nodding in greeting. Tents line the vastness of the terrain, and other folk appear. Judging by their inner rhythm, the time of rising had arrived, as the lingering ties to Aman yet rule their inclinations and habits.

The Elf looks towards the jagged mountains rising ahead, spears through the mist. The host had made little progress, and their supplies, once sufficient until they reached green Endor, are dwindling and sparse. With a sigh, he walks on. Despite not falling upon any land-dwelling life in this place, by instinct, his gloved hand lingers on the hilt of his sword.

He gains speed to regain some warmth in his muscles, looking left and right for a familiar face. Fewer of them walk the wastes now, compared to the start of their journey.

"Laurefindil!" 

He is easy to distinguish among the rest of the grey-cloaked folk. Despite the enveloping shadows, his smile is light and genuine.

"Aikanáro," Laurefindil greets, answering the son of Arafinwë with a nod.

"Were you not joining us?" the new arrival asks. "The others are ready to depart."

They are of the same height and of similar build, he and Aikanáro, and know each other well owing to his father's long years in the service of Arafinwë in Tirion. During his younger years, Laurefindil met and befriended the offspring of Finwë's youngest. They'd spent much time together in Aman, and now, looking upon his friend, those carefree remembrances are strange and painful.

He forges a smile as the other Elf nears him. "Would I miserably be marching through the chill at this unseemly hour otherwise?"

Aikanáro huffs a mirthful grunt, placing an arm around the other's shoulders. "Come now, let us now together explore the loveliness of this...," he looks to the desolate view, "... of this vast icy waste, and perhaps find something to keep us going until we reach the next icy waste."

"How are you in such a good mood precisely?" Laurefindil mutters. "Did you have some of that odd weed Olórin was partial to?" he teases as they fall in step together, and his spirits feel lighter at the memory. Aikanáro had the habit of subverting or bending relatively harmless rules, even surpassing his sister Artanis in their past wanderings in abandoned Tirion. "I always wondered how you kept snatching the stuff from Irmo's gardens," Laurefindil adds.

Aikanáro gives him a long-suffering look. "For the thousandth time, it was never snatched , and tried only twice after hunting—"

Laurefindil waves his words away, his face regaining its past light. "No need to defend your vices before me," he speaks as the other rolls his eyes. "And your brothers?..."

Aikanáro frowns, regarding the ragged mountains of ice. "Angaráto and Findaráto are already at the meeting place."

They walk on in silence until they reach an assembled group, armed and speaking low among themselves.

Laurefindil spots the towering figure of Ñolofinwë, grim and surrounded by his men, some of whom Laurefindil recognizes from his own previous visits in Tirion at the house of Arafinwë. There were also his sons, whom the Elf knew mainly from formal gatherings and celebrations. Findekáno, the eldest, presently shares words with his father. His brother Turukáno stands nearby, speaking with one whom Laurefindil also concludes to know: the dark-haired flute player from the previous night, who mellowed their grief with song. He stands as though the frost has no bearing on him, his head held high, sable hair braided back in a heavy plait.

The voice of Aikanáro reaches him then, and he joins to seek the eldest son of Arafinwë. They follow in an orderly line, the few leaders walking ahead with the handful of their men chosen to explore the area. In this place, they'd finally found temporary shelter from the freezing winds lashing at them. The rows of ice cliffs, rising taller on either side, aid in that respect. And they need a reprieve. Of course, searching for nourishment became imperative, as was surveying the area to preempt possible peril. They follow the winding slopes, quiet and heedful of any shadows or movement in their way.

"I have yet to see any land-dwelling creature here," Aikanáro says. 

To their left now hails a chain of ragged formations, and to their right is a long, wide rift in the deep ice. Far ahead, impenetrable mists float on endless black waters.

"Aikanáro..." Laurefindil whispers, pointing to what catches his attention.

After staring for a few moments, his friend hastens forward to call for his brother.

Laurefindil gapes. The formless apparitions trap his attention, and his feet take him closer. He grasps his bow and nocks an arrow, sensing the others following.

"Be on your guard," one says somewhere to his right, and from the corner of his eye, Laurefindil again sees the dark-haired flute player. He moves with stealth, wraithlike, his feet soundless upon the frozen ground.

The strangest creatures ever encountered. The Eldar had seen nothing of the like on the shores of Aman. Their large bodies burst with muscle and fat, great tusks protruding from their jaws, and their movement is sluggish.

"They appear... harmless," Laurefindil lowers his bow, seeing Aikanáro returned to his side.

"That may be so, but it is also the only sign of life we have seen above water so far, not to mention all we found this entire time of searching," Aikanáro retorts. "My lord uncle has just given leave to try."

Laurefindil sees the others raise their weapons. He looks back at the slow-moving beasts. He squeezes his eyes shut, opens them, and aims his bow anew. It seems cruel, but they must do things like this now to survive. He takes a deep intake of breath.

"Do it," Aikanáro murmurs from beside him, his own bow taut. "The meat will feed many for days. The hide will serve many purposes, as may the bones and tusks."

He had killed nothing as large before, only game small in comparison, in the sloping forests near Tirion. But now death had been weaved into their lives, and he has to shoot.

A sharp hiss, to his right; turning, he sees an arrow loosened, spearing one beast. A clean kill.

The rest of the herd are hurrying to the edge of the ice, back into the waters.

"They are escaping!" he hears someone cry, and with one last moment of hesitation, his fingers tense on the string as he finds a target. Shoot, damn you.

Before he can release, the beast falls struck by another perfectly fired arrow.

The Elf turns to find the dark-haired flute player lowering his bow. For once Laurefindil feels warm with shame despite the frost, and his head lowers, his breathing fast and uneven.

A hand on his shoulder startles him. "It may take some getting used to," golden Findaráto says, come to his side.

Laurefindil merely nods, rubbing tiredly at his eyes with a sigh. "You never know, I may just be more useful next time," he shakes his head.

Aikanáro makes his appearance between them. "Come now, enough chatter; we have work to do," he says, wearily drawing two long knives from his belt.

They return with their quarry late, sending word to those able to help skin and portion the meat.

None are exempt from the work. Laurefindil is on his knees, his cloak discarded to the side. A knife is in his hand as he works to skin their quarry. He uses a similar technique he remembers from hunting in the forests of Valinor, but the sheer mass and weight make it a long and arduous labor. At least the effort keeps him warm. He looks at his hands, now bloodied to his wrists. A raw smell and warm steam rise in the air, and he briefly lifts his head to the others, also making do with the improvised tools available.

His breath rises misty in the night as he brings his hastily braided hair over one shoulder. It is snowing, and silent flakes coat his shoulders. He tries thinking of ripened fields instead of hard ice, of summer gold instead of the crimson mass beneath his hands.

A light scent, opposed to that of fresh, freezing blood; Laurefindil ceases his movement and lifts his head once more.

A presence, a drawn, sullen face. She places a container with steaming water by his side. "For your hands," the auburn-haired Elf says, hazel eyes cutting to his.

Laurefindil nods then lathers his hands. His stiffened fingers regain some mobility, and he hastily wipes them dry with his cloak. "Thank you," he settles, unsure what else to say as he takes the skinning knife again.

"I am here for the hide." A raspy voice; not too pleasant-sounding, considering what he'd heard of her singing.

Looking up, the Elf meets an expectant gaze. Her hair is tucked beneath her hood this time, and a thin thread of auburn is in her eye. She appears to take no heed of it.

"Have you finished?" she insists when Laurefindil says nothing. Her eyes turn questioning, and an impatient crease forms between her brows.

Laurefindil looks down. "I need more time." He works faster now, seeing as she is apparently tasked with retrieving the hide to be treated. His focus drifts to her feet, still standing before him, then back to his work. He stops after a while, gazes upward again. "Are you going to wait here?"

"It is not as though we are hurrying anywhere, is it?" she retorts, crossing her arms.

"I could bring it over if you tell me where. But it may take a while longer—"

"Here," she says, retrieving a short blade from her belt. She kneels and begins laboring alongside him. "Works faster in two."

Laurefindil raises an eyebrow but keeps his peace, and their heads come bent together over their task; the heavy scent of warm blood lingers in the air, rising sickly around them.

Her hands, though small and fine, work fast enough, and Laurefindil has to admit she flicks the blade well, wasting no movement.

Soon she is softly humming in song—a gleeful lay, reminding him of careless days spent riding through the fields of Aman; his spirits lift, just barely. But each stroke of the knife keeps him anchored to the dismal present, no matter how good it feels to hear about the past.

He stays silent, at first. But when the light notes continue, oblivious to their pitiful state, Laurefindil pauses his movements. "Must you do that?" he snaps, looking her way.

She flinches, and ceases singing; the sounds fall like clipped wings between them as the stranger focuses back on their work without a word.

"If the memories affect you so, perhaps you should not have followed," she murmurs after a time.

Before Laurefindil can find a proper retort, she has taken a handful of snow and rubs it between her bloodied hands. She stands, drying her palms fast against her cloak. "Done."

Laurefindil rises as well, wrapping the hide in a manageable way, and hands it to her. She spares him not a glance but turns and hurries away, swaying only slightly with her burden.

"What is your name?" the question escapes him of its own ridiculous volition.

She had not gone that far— despite the hissing wind, she must have heard him. But she neither turns nor offers a reply, walking ahead until her figure is obscured by the falling curtain of snow.

AN:

Lines used from the original works:

"For blood ye shall render blood, and beyond Aman ye shall dwell in Death's shadow." - Quenta Silmarillion, Of the Flight of the Ñoldor.

The lyrics of the song in this chapter are from The Lays of Beleriand, "II. Poems Early Abandoned: The Lay of the Fall of Gondolin". They reference Gondolin, but I took bits and pieces to suggest Tirion, the city after which Turgon modeled Gondolin.

Banner image credit: Caspar David Friedrich, Felsenriff am Meeresstrand

Part II

[uweiy]

I'm thinking about Evernight for no reason and I remember almost nothing about the actual content of this drama but I remember:

Chen Feiyu's ACTING and the character of Ning Que was so compelling. Cocky enough to be interesting, but not enough to be annoying, clever and bright with an immense potential but cannot cultivate, and mysterious enough

The music is SO GOOD. (By the way there's this song in one episode idk there is a fight in the barbarian lands and I think it's just one man singing and it lasts 10 seconds and I've been going crazy trying to figure out ,hat is is)

I LOVED LONG QING the prince of light's character arc. Self proclaimed son of light, an ego that is WAYY too big and that keeps getting crushed and an absolute descent.

Idk there is no point to this but just. Evernight

[watch-grok-brainrot]

omg i saw you answered another anon about not reading the song of achilles bc you didnt like circe (it is the same author!!) but you should def give the song of achilles a try!!!!! its so so good!!! honestly i didnt really like circe and never finished it bc compared to tsoa it was a bit of a letdown!! but yes 100% you should give it a chance!!

oooh. good to know. i’ll request it from my local library then! 

THANK YOU!

[spookshowninjakitty]

Double Negative by Susan Marshall

Double Negative by Susan Marshall

Double Negative by Susan Marshall Contemporary/Young Adult 245 Pages Published by Evernight Teen (12th November 2021) Purchase from | Amazon AU | Amazon UK | Amazon US | Booktopia | Fishpond AU* | Book Depository* | My rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for an honest review. Actual rating of 3.5 When competitive swimmer Reece finds herself with a shoulder…

[palehorsemen]

[atlasshrugd]

does anyone watch evernight (chinese drama) ??

[dreamvvithme]

Cdrama or Kdrama?

Hmmmm...

This is a really tricky question.

Some of my all-time favourite dramas in the recent years are from South Korea, i.e. Signal, Strangers, Beyond Evil, 1988, etc. And this is to be expected as their dramas tend to have a higher budget which equates to better production, script, set and costume designs, etc.

HOWEVER, the OTPs in Chinese dramas have me in a complete chokehold. And when you ship a couple as religiously as I do (ahem, Word of Honor, Evernight, A River Runs through It, Legend of Fuyao, etc.) the drama will always have a special place in your heart despite its flaws.

[dangermousie]

Both Joy of Life and Evernight are based on novels so I wonder if they're as good as the drama versions?

They are not just both based on novels, they are both based on novels by the same author!

I have not read Joy of Life so cannot comment on it (it’s a harem tho and I don’t do that - I am glad they changed it to him only loving Wan’er in the drama) but I have read Nightfall aka the novel Ever Night is based on and I loved it!!! (Actually, it’s so freaking long I am still reading it but I have loved everything I’ve read so far - about 50% fully and a lot of stuff ahead as I peek.) EN1 is remarkably faithful to the novel, about as faithful an adaptation as I have seen. One of the (many many) reasons EN2 is bad is because they decided to go their own way and do their own stuff and make it a much much looser adaptation.

So, short version - EN novel is excellent and from what I’ve heard JoL is too if you do not mind harem (which I do but mmv.)

[zhouszishu]

ma’am idk how you make so many gifs all at once just wanted to say I love your gifs I started watching historical cdramas more often because I remember seeing your evernight gifs and I have been following you since then 🥺💗💗💗 your gifs are so pretty thank you for making them

lmaooo it’s called procrastinating on my law school apps but thank you!! this message is super sweet and i’m so glad i was able to get you to watch more cdramas because of my gifs 💛💛💛 honestly i really love being able to share about the dramas i enjoy through gifs and i’m happy so many people like the gifs as well 🥰

[malkuvoitenoldoran]

– B A S I C S –

NAME:    Andy

ALIAS(ES)/HANDLE(S):   my discord is available to mutuals! LotRO main on Evernight is Liramir

ARE YOU OVER 18?    Yes  /  No

IS YOUR MUSE?  Yes  /  No / verse depended

WHEN WAS YOUR BLOG ESTABLISHED?   Feb 22, 2017

– W R I T I N G –

ARE YOU SELECTIVE ABOUT WHO YOU WRITE WITH ON THIS BLOG?

No  /  Semi (most people)  / Yes (some people)  /  Highly (few people)  /  Private (mutuals only)

ARE YOU SELECTIVE ABOUT WHO YOU FOLLOW ON THIS BLOG?

No same as above /  Semi (most people)  /  Yes (some people) /  Highly (few people)  / Private (mutuals only) / Side Blog

IF YOUR MUSE IS CANON, HOW MUCH DO YOU ADHERE TO CANON?

Not at all  /  A little (Headcanons)  /  Some  /  Mostly  /  Strictly  /  Not Applicable

WHAT POST LENGTHS DO YOU WRITE?

One Liners  /  Single-Para  /  Multi-Para  /  Novella

DO YOU USE ICONS AND/OR GIFS?

No  /  Gifs  / Sometimes /  Icons  /  Yes

DO YOU WRITE ON OTHER PLATFORMS?

No  /  Yes 

WHAT LEVEL OF PLOTS DO YOU WRITE?

Unplotted  /  Open-Ended Plots (set up a meeting and see what happens)  /  Semi-Plotted (one or two steps ahead)  /  Fully Plotted Epics (plotted beginning, middle, and end)

HOW QUICKLY DO YOU USUALLY RESPOND TO THREADS?

Very Slow (more than a month)  /  Slow (3-4 weeks)  /  Average (1-2 weeks) /  Fast (less than one week)  /  Very Fast (less than three days)  /  It depends

WHAT TYPES OF THEMES DO YOU LIKE? (feel free to add!)

Fluff (Depends)  /  Angst  /  Smut /  Violence  /  Tragedy /  Domestic  /  Family  /  Conversational

WHAT GENRES DO YOU LIKE? (feel free to add!)

High Fantasy  /  Supernatural /  Science Fiction  /  Historical  /  Horror  /  Comedy  / Romantic  /  Drama /  Action  /  Adventure  /  Espionage

ARE THERE ANY THEMES YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WRITING ON YOUR BLOG? (not triggers)

No  /  Yes  / Sometimes

DO YOU HAVE ANY TRIGGERS?  HOW DO YOU REQUEST IT TAGGED?

Don’t have any triggers per say at least none that I’ve come across.

– S H I P P I N G –

WHAT TYPES OF RELATIONSHIPS ARE YOU OPEN TO?

Romantic   /  Platonic  /  Familial

WHAT TYPES OF PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIPS ARE YOU OPEN TO?

Romantic  /  Platonic  /  Familial

DO YOU HAVE OTPS?

No  / Chemistry Only  /  Yes

DO YOU HAVE NOTPS?

No  /  Yes 

WHAT IS YOUR MUSE’S SEXUAL ORIENTATION?

Heterosexual  /  Heteroflexible  /  Bisexual  /  Pansexual  /  Homoflexible  / Homosexual  /  Demisexual  /  Sapiosexual  /  Asexual

WHAT IS YOUR MUSE’S ROMANTIC ORIENTATION?

Heteroromantic  /  Heteroflexible  / Biromantic  /  Homoflexible  /  Homoromantic  / Panromantic  /  Demiromantic  /  Sapioromantic  /  Aromantic

ARE YOU COMFORTABLE WRITING SMUT?

No  /  Selectively  /  Yes

HOW EARLY IN A RELATIONSHIP DO YOU SHIP ROMANTICALLY?

Autoship  /  During plotting  / After a couple IC interactions /  Several IC interactions  / Slow burn  /  Never

ARE YOU OPEN TO TOXIC SHIPS?

No  /  Selectively  /  Yes

ARE YOU OPEN TO PROBLEMATIC SHIPS? (incest, canon history, age difference, complicated, etc.)

No  / Selectively /  Yes

ARE YOU OPEN TO POLYSHIPPING?

No  /  Selectively  / Yes

ARE YOU AN EXCLUSIVE SHIPPER?

Never  /  Sometimes  /  Yes

DOES CRACK SHIPPING EVER HAPPEN?

No  /  Yes

– T A G G I N G! –

TAGGED BY:  no one stole it

TAGGING:  YOU!

[watch-grok-brainrot]

Hello, I've heard you sometime offer insights into Chinese translations? May I ask some help into learning what are the connotations of this name: 圣 女 (Shèng nǚ)

I've seen it several times in c-dramas, and I gather that the words mean something close to 'holy woman'. But every time I encounter it, it's in relation to a country or a people. It's always 'the saintess of - this place/tribe etc-'. So I wonder if there's something more to it.

Examples include Xiaotang from evernight, Haitang Duo Duo from Joy of life, and Sha Hualing from Scum Villain. Can you help?

hm... i just met Xiaotang tonight. I’m on ep 27 of Ever Night now! And i haven’t watched JoL(i’m actually on ep 7ish? but don’t remember because i stopped back in march and forgot to pick it back up...) or SVSSS yet. 

You’re right that the words mean holy + woman. I think that says most of what you’re trying to get at but maybe if we talk about the character 圣 a little more, it’ll be of help to you. 

圣 can mean holy or sacred on its own. It is used with the character for person (人) to mean saint or sage. A person of great skill can be known as the 圣 of something. One example is tang dynasty poet Du Fu who was called 诗圣. In some sense, it takes whatever it’s paired with and shoves that thing on a pedestal. [also note that this is the same 圣 for JC’s name 三毒圣手 with 圣手 meaning a highly skilled practitioner of some sort]

So what is a 圣女? If you look up 圣女 in pleco, it gives you the Virgin Mary or a female saint/martyr (e.g Joan of Arc). It can be a holy woman or a priestess of something (pleco PLC definition). It can be a woman of impeccable virtue, someone soon to become an empress/consort, or refer to a goddess. (the latter three are from pleco hanyu da cidian definition) 

In my experience, 圣女 in wuxia and xianxia are all females with a specific role of some sort within a cult, religion, or tribe. I think of it as a woman shoved on a pedestal who is expected to perform to those expectations and serve whatever group she is the 圣女 of (hand waves about great power and great responsibility and sprinkles in great beauty into it. like i said, pedestal). The implication, to me,  is that her group exists outside of standard Chinese virtues (think either jianghu where 义 reigns supreme or some sort of confucian 仁-based morality). 

I’d be curious to know if this assessment works for the characters you’ve mentioned. :)  

[dilebe06]

È tornato. 😍🥳 #evernight #drama #cdrama #sonoflight #figliodellaluce #longqing #miseimancato #chinesedrama #lol #xiling #light #lucedeimieiocchi https://www.instagram.com/p/B8hIyjcInCG/?igshid=1c8jyovv7ww74