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        I just want to say I am always blown away with how much love and inspiration @tharanduil​ puts into her writing- but especially Thrandy. You really see how much love and care and thought gets put into him, from his backstory, to his family, to his interactions with others. Sandra really has an innate ability to make him fit in anywhere, in many verses, and it’s always a treat and so fascinating to read all the different things she writes with him, whether as a king, or a vampire, or a corrupted elf, or a father- her writing is so phenomenal that to have her on the dash is such a gift, and after almost seven(!) years, she is still here loving him and gracing our presence with her wonderful self. I am so thankful for that and can’t wait to see more, for many more years to come.

         Another thing that I think definitely deserves mentioning is her interpretation of the Elvenqueen. Phayakěmě is so well thought out and her story woven with Thranduil’s where she is still her own person, with her own thoughts and feelings and choices in life and not only the wife of Thranduil and the mother of Legolas. She makes the decision to stay as a spirit and give presence to her family and kingdom and it’s such a unique and original take that I truly, absolutely adore. I love that she still plays a part in their lives and really, truly feels like she’s plucked from tolkien’s mind- but lbr, Sandra writes her better than he ever could, and took the title and ran with it and made it uniquely hers.

 LADY   SORROW,   WHY   DO   YOU   ROAM   ??     all   mortal   life   wrapped   tight   in   strings   that   tangle,   some   red,   some   gilded   and   thin,   no   respite   from   the   ever   weaving   tapestry.   iluvatar   breaks   bread   into   two   and   the   world   follows   suit     :     manwë   takes   the   skies,   varda   plants   her   seeds   into   the   cosmos,   ulmo   spills   at   the   seams   until   everything   is   blue     ━━━     and   then   there   is   her.   and   then   there   is   love.   it   starts   small,   with   the   caterpillar,   with   the   worm,   and   all   those   little   things   that   eat   dirt,   and   grows   into   something   beautiful.   she   walks   the   shores,   bare   feet   against   sand   while   she   gets   used   to   having   feet,   and   everything   is   simple.   but   then   he   decrees     :     i   have   named   thee   messenger,   and   her   bones   reshape   inside   her   body,   this   black   hole   of   abstract   shape   caving   in   on   itself,   until   she’s   inside   out,   muscle   and   sinew   and   gold   tinted   blood.

IT IS NOT WITHOUT VINDICATION that SEPHIROTH makes his appearance to what he has come to be known as the woodland realm. THIS PLACE WAS STRANGE TO HIM , foreign. But he can sense the CRIES of the planet suffering beneath the tree’s roots. ( As if the trees themselves cried out for help ). Such screams rung loudly in his mind , and he could not sit idly by while the ground ROTTED AWAY. For what was responsible for such a grotesque display of destruction , he did not know. But he was assured to find out. For this world , like all worlds , would belong to him.

HE TREADS EASILY THROUGH the tangled roots that spread throughout this realm. The ROT && DARKNESS chilling his core , and fueling the ANCIENT RAGE that burned beneath such a calm facade. He had seen destruction before , but this littered the air with DARK && POISONOUS mage. And Sephiroth would take great pleasure in the suffering of whoever he’d find to be responsible for it.

He approaches large ornate doors , being met with the sword of two elves who stood guard outside. Sephiroth’s own masamune shone at his hilt , but he did not draw it ( not yet ).

‘ Who lays claim over these lands. I wish to speak with them.’ He speaks calmly , but with ASSERTION. 

  ❝   i   fear   that   i   will   be   ripped   open          and found unsightly    ❞