#silverlight

[queenmeriadoc]

For Celebrimbor Week you are allowed to participate with any ship you want, some examples are

Silverscars (Adar x Celebrimbor)

Heraldsmith (Elrond x Celebrimbor)

Silverlight (Galadriel x Celebrimbor)

Silvergifting (Annatar/Sauron x Celebrimbor)

I will make sure to reblog it all to @the-southlands Can't wait to see what you create <3

[chill-reading-books]

👀 Silverlight mention

They make really cool stuff in Silverlight! I bet this was invented at the university there

[soapdispensersalesman]

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Silverlight, the Arcana 2 Cover Art by Clyde Caldwell

[sidhewrites]

Writing Share Tag

Thank you @armentas for the tag!

Tagging: @thestarrymanuk @albatris @dyrewrites @sunnymusingsao3 and you !

I am once again rewriting silverlight. I'm almost done with the word-vom section and have also started the "write it bad BUT write it!" section, so here's the opening scene for ya!

Approx 1150 words

Sophie told herself that she didn't mind it. Her mother Claude was down in the valley with the mayor's wife and a midwife from Wistmere just past the mountains. The woman had traveled three days through the forest that surrounded the valley, but it was worth it to have an expert on hand. All the same, Sophie should have gone with them. She'd been training as a physician under her mother all her life, and yet, Claude had told her to stay.

"We don't need a third pair of hands," she'd said. "The poor woman is anxious enough, and too much of a crowd will only make things worse."

That, of course, meant that they didn't need Sophie sticking her nose in where it didn't belong yet again.

So Sophie told herself that she was happy to stay, to mind their cottage and keep the hearth lit if anyone else from the valley needed a physician for something simple. Sleeping draughts, cold remedies. Simple things that Sophie had mastered as a child. Even now, she was doing nothing but stringing herbs together and hanging them up to dry, occasionally pausing just to move about the cottage and assuage some of her restlessness.

She paced, she strung, she tried to sing a working song to pass the time, but nothing calmed her down. The only one who'd be getting any sleep that night was the cat, who that had proven to be a better lap warmer than he ever would a mouser.

It was quiet. Infuriatingly peaceful in the cottage. It was a blessed relief when there came a quiet but insistent tapping on the window.

Sophie leapt up instantly, abandoning her work without a second thought as she raced over to the sound. On the other side of the glass stood a young man dressed in an old stolen coat and worn out boots. Where Sophie was naturally dark skinned with thick curls pulled out of her face with a kerchief, he was sun-tanned, with an uneven mop of brown hair that hung messily about his face and eyes green as summer grass.

Sophie threw the window open, eyes wide. "Jack! What are you doing here?"

"It's almost the full moon." He had the thick accent of Wistmere's lower class, and smiled bright as the sun. "We were going to--"

"You can't be here. What if Ma had seen you?"

"It would be worth it." He grinned smugly. "Besides, she's not here. You wouldn't be pacing about like that if you weren't trapped here alone and away from all the excitement."

Sophie wanted to argue, but he was right. She liked being where things happened, getting involved with the excitement. It's why she loved Jack so dearly, who always seemed to have something new to show her in the woods.  After a moment, Sophie melted under his warm gaze, and shook her head. "Come inside. I'll fix you something to eat."

Jack met her at the back door. He stood among the herb garden, lit up by the moonlight. He was as handsome as Sophie was pretty, with his soft eyes and easy smile, and would have captured anyone's heart were he not so covered in dirt. Leaves stuck out of his hair, forgotten or unnoticed in his rush over here.

"You're ridiculous." She reached up, plucking a few of the leaves out, and ignoring his amusement. "You can help me roll bandages if you like. They should be done drying by now."

Jack removed his boots before coming inside properly. His socks were threadbare and filled with holes, but at least they wouldn't trail dirt everywhere he stepped. He let Sophie guide him to the hearth, where a rack of bandages and rags sat, freshly washed and waiting to be rolled up and put away.  "I'm always happy to help, but didn't we have plans tonight?"

Sophie sighed. "We did, but ... Well, Liddy's baby had its own plans, it seemed. And we can't leave the rest of town without a physician. Even if that one has inexperienced hands that are better served elsewhere." She sounded more unkind than she'd meant to.

Still, it earned her a laugh from Jack, who took one of her hands and kissed it. "These hands are just fine," he declared, then frowned. "You have a new scar there."

Sophie shrugged. "Marius had opinions about how I was petting him." She'd suffered a thousand tiny wounds from the cat, but nothing that couldn't be handled. 

Jack pointed an accusing finger at Marius. "Shame on you, wounding your mama like that. How unkind!"

Marius opened his eyes, huffed, and rolled over to go right back to sleep.

"He has no love for me."

"He has no love for anyone except for me," Sophie said. She prepared a bowl of hunter's stew from the cauldron bubbling on the hearth. It would need to be topped up soon, but that could be put off for another day or two.

Jack took it with a thanks, and Sophie fixed her apron before going back to her herbs. "What did you to today, Jack?"

"I made a new way to cross the river. A tree fell over, so I dragged it to the river for a bridge."

"By yourself?"

He grinned. "It'll make an excellent home for the pixies. The full moon's tomorrow, so I'm sure they'll be out in full force looking for yet another place to call their own."

The thought made her smile as well. A river ran through the valley of Ostrover, a small and peaceful settlement that was just barely large enough to be called a town, flowing past the larger city of Wistmere, and along the land until it reached the sea. At least, it did on this side of the world. Somewhere in the woods that covered the mountains around Ostrover lay the entrance to Fairyside, a land of magic and danger.

The pixies lived in little pockets of Fairyside that leaked through the border, peppered throughout the woods and as close as Jack's hut just past the treeline. Beyond that, it was hard to say what else lived there. The woods were thick and old and beautiful. Walking paths and deer trails crisscrossed between the trees, mushrooms and truffles growing fat and savory to those who knew how to find them.

There was danger there. Stray too far from the path, and fairies could catch you. Curse you, kidnap you, or worse. But there was beauty, too. Pixies and wisps dancing in golden shafts of sunlight, forget-me-nots whispering secrets long lost, or wild roses telling you your heart's desire. And though Sophie loved her mother and the work they did, she also lived for wonder, magic, adventure. There was little to be found in Ostrover, but she could find more than enough wonder in the woods with the right guide.

[transingthoseformers]

For the fandom ask game, if you fancy it:

7. Is there a piece of clothing (if humanformers; a bit of paintwork or other decor otherwise) you think Silverlight is particularly fond of/that you imagine them wearing a lot or like to draw them in?

11. What's your favourite piece of fanart for MegOP?

17. What's a book, movie, or show you thinkHazard would like?

7. I can see future!Silverlight donning more intricate paintwork (especially where the red and blue meet) during more formal events, especially if it's that slightly glittery kind that you'll see in some car paint

11. Probably the piece with Warframe!sg Optimus and civilian!SG Megatron!

17. I feel like Hazard would have a love for forensic shows, especially the more science heavy ones like Bones (mnnnn I can also see them enjoying those chemistry YouTube channels like NileRed, which those are always fun).

[technologiesinternet]

Why Silverlight Programming is admired?

[spacetimeaccordionfolder]

Rereading the Sunlit Man and I am cracking up at the idea of the Cinder King reading about the Blackthorn's war crimes and Dalinar's "Unite them" and making that into a messed up bucket list "wow this guy is right I should set fire to people who disagree with me and I should unite everyone under my banner by force! this conqueror gets it!" Somewhere in the cosmere/ the beyond Dalinar's ghost is very disturbed. Cinder King's kicking his feet doodling fiery hearts around the blackthorns name not knowing that if they ever met he would be obliterated in an instant. Nomad has every right to laugh in this guy's face. Imagine being on the run for 300 years and then some guy with glowing red eyes on some tiny planet in the middle of nowhere quotes your old boss at you and asks your old boss would be proud of him. And then has the audacity to break an oath around a rosharan.

[samrosemodblog]

The long awaited Demo for Haven University: A New Friend Starts Here has just released! Get a taste of what Eros and I are cooking up for this hopefully soon-to-be-release free Visual Novel!

If you've been around here for a while these faces should look familiar! They're the peeps from this post! Here's to the start of many more stories and projects featuring them!

I know it's been a while since I had a proper release for anything as well, but I really hope you all enjoy this project once its finished! I put a lot of passion into it, so I hope you like it!!

[gravekeeper-anna]

Daily Writing Challenge (May 2025)

Day 6 / May 30

Negative / Relic

@daily-writing-challenge

The Silverlight estate had long fallen since the day the dead came and marched a blighted path through Eversong, a ruined eidolon of the rich walls and lives that once inhabited it. The once golden fountain that crowned its welcoming courtyard was all that really retained shape now, dilapidated walls sunk or crumbled in on themselves, leaving only foundational doorways.

Still, its last survivor came to visit each week, bound to guilt and the urge to reclaim what had been lost. Alinora craved an opportunity of worth that would give her name precedence to Silvermoon again, as well as her lost family. Something to lift her out of servitude to another House, and rebuild her into a seat of nobility she once belonged to.

For years, she had tried but could never cross the entry hall’s threshold into the estate proper. A heavy fear kept Alinora from passing too far into broken doorframes. She could hear voices, as if wailing from the depths of hell. The walls shuddered when she would walk too close, as if they sought to crumble around her and bury the last living Silverlight within.

She knew little about the supernatural beyond charms and incense, but Alinora could feel the evil of the place in her bones, and it would not be abated by her or any prayer of the Light. She was a woman of very little means now, unable to afford much in the way of help. Convincing her employers to intervene would surely tip them off into what she meant to do. With all her luck, anything found by seedier peoples she'd involved would rob her of what remained of the estate, if anything remained at all.

But there was one she had heard rumors of, a figure that regularly haunted Tirasfal, one that would charge her no coin for a successful exorcism. A personage of strange ways, as she heard it. The Forsaken were always of a…unique disposition and demeanor. And as her eyes caught sight of the one they named the “Gravekeeper” appearing in approach from around the dark lake she waited at, Alinora felt a dreadful regret build in her stomach to have called on the haunting personage in the first place.

Riding what seemed to be a formidable destrier animated only by the framing of its own bones, the Gravekeeper was an uncanny ghost of flesh that was guided by it in the clutch of a saddle. Garbed in grey-blue funerary lace that contrasted deeply with the near unearthly glow of pale skin, Alinora reflexively held in her breath as the Keeper’s sights took her in, swallowed by the lantern light of her gaze. She felt an entire cemetery had visited upon her within those eyes, and readied her a coffin.

“You are the Lady Silverlight?” The sepulchral voice asked, a formal echo that could almost be gentle. Shadowy hair drifted from the crown of dead flowers atop the Keeper’s head, defying gravity.

“Y-yes - I–” Alinora answered after a long bout of struggling silence, staring upward at her mounted “savior”. The blood elf curtsied awkwardly. “I am Mis–Lady Silverlight. Yes.” She could no longer be called by such titles, but it felt right coming from the dead woman’s vocals, strange as it all was.

The Gravekeeper slid away from the saddle fluidly, her black skirts billowing like a fog about her willowy form. A soft scrape of metal heralded the sight of a great relic of a spade, clutched at her side. Alinora felt the blessing of being able to breathe again as the spectral eyes moved past her to the hollowed out estate itself. The Keeper's head tilted slowly until it reached an odd, unnerving angle in the viewing, deeply interested.

“I see…” she replied, a murmur, a whisper. A whisper that seemed to be echoed in slight, mimicked intonations around her, though Alinora could see nothing of where they came from. For a moment, she thought she was to go mad again with nothing but a swell of whispers, but it was a sound that died quickly as the Keeper took her steps toward the estate.

“Well then. I do quite think you have some visitors,” the Lady Keeper spoke with perhaps more creeping humor than one should have in such a harrowing haunt. “Stay there, dear girl,” she instructed Alinora with a suddenly frigid demand that seemed to freeze her feet to the spot. And then, without much more of another word, the Gravekeeper invited herself into the barely held framing that was the entrance of the estate.

Minutes passed, and the estate seemed to build from its disturbingly negative whispers, to disjointed groans, to angered shrieks belting from its darkest spaces. Alinora cringed, gasped as she heard shatterings from within, watched topsoil tremble, watched eerie blue light swell within broken walls. Her entire body tightened as she witnessed the remains of the Silverlight estate seem to heave as if it housed ghostly lungs, and let out a dreaded rattle, as if its very innards were expelling its last, threatening promise of unholy retribution. Just as Alinora thought she might turn and run for the city, the estate went silent, dead silent. The Gravekeeper emerged from the great doorway she entered through, right before it collapsed behind her. She seemed...entirely unphased.

What was more, the Keeper had went in alone, but with her every step outward, things unspoken broke through the ruined soil of the estate, collections of bones reanimated to walk again, and collect around her. Some skulls twisted on their levitating spines as they clicked into place, terrifyingly turning empty sockets on Alinora herself. None said a word. In her soundless fear, Alinora could only formulate the basic assumption that they had no muscle, no vocal chords to grind words with.

“Your estate is now safe for your…hmm, digging,” the Keeper spoke, her eyes much more interested in her skeletal crowd than Alinora herself. “I would suggest bringing a rather strong shovel.” A hint of a smile drifted on the Keeper’s bruised, deadened lips.

“A shovel….?” Alinora echoed in barely heard refrain, the terror waning in the face of some sort of success, yet moving to the utter confusion on where to begin next. “But…I thought? What…what should I do then?” Her mind numbed over with what had just transpired and no real understanding of it. The fallen noble realized she had no idea what she was expecting.

The Gravekeeper seemed to tilt her head, as if listening to something on the silent air that she was deaf to. “Is it not obvious, my dear?” The lantern light eyes fell distinctly on Alinora now, and the voice that came from her seemed to echo with others. Familiar echoes that chased her own as her words drifted past the seat of her own lips. “Remember them. And do it better than you have. Or I'm afraid they'll just have to come back.”

With that, the Gravekeeper lead her new skeletal friends away to a promise of new purpose, new unlife, their last living relative none the wiser.

[queenmeriadoc]

Celebrimbor Week - Day five: What if? "What if Galadriel had told the truth about who Halbrand really is to Celebrimbor as soon as she could?"

Celebrimbor: Why Galadriel, why must we never treat with Halbrand ever again? Galadriel: For he is Sauron.

Also, I imagine Galadriel and Celebrimbor being kidnapped by Sauron so they can help him make the rings, the seven and the nine.

[purple-egg-yolk]

Imma preface this with this might be super obvious and something we were meant to get but I didn’t until now lol, hopefully I’m not the only one.

We know every stormlight book is a book in the Cosmere, like Dalinar writing Oathbringer. The series is probably called the stormlight archive because it’s a collection of 10 real books in the cosmere that are archiving the events leading up to and (maybe) directly after the true desolation, beginning with the way of kings as the foundational text for each that comes afterwards.

I also think this has some super interesting applications for like history classes at the universities in Silverlight hundreds of years after the True Desolation.

[technoneko-2000]

☆ art by Fayyo, circa 2010 ☆

[jewishicequeen]

Late for may like always but. The girls.

[pocketramblr]

How cosmere aware can a guy be without knowing about the sixteen shards cmon man

[sidhewrites]

I got a commission of my oc Polly from smellyratz on twitter, and look how cute she is! Polly's one of my oldest OCs, and the lead of one of my current writing projects Silverlight. The artist is so kind and he's got such an adorable art style, everyone go follow him!

Posted on tumblr with permission from artist.