#<- after i already sent a very long apology to someone who might not even be upset but the idea of them being upset at me is worse than

[dispotatorulzz]

Guy who knows he overthinks all the time why am I overthinking

[elronds-meleth-nin]

Lemon Cakes

I just...I had an idea and I was emotional about S2E7 (beware spoilers!!) so I wrote a thing. We're not taking S2E8 into account, and we're assuming Brimby managed to escape from Eregion. Anyway, enjoy!

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Celebrimbor (RoP) x Half-Elven Healer!Reader

[A/N: This contains mild references/innuendo so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Fluff, angst, yearning, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries, minor descriptions of the same, spoilers for RoP S2E7, crying, kissing, both think their feelings are unrequited but they're very requited, nudity, mild references to male anatomy.

~*~

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts and fears that I didn't bother noting where I was going. All of Eregion was safe, so it didn't truly matter which pathway I took. However, it still would have been wise to do so.

Wisdom wasn't exactly the foremost concern in my mind at that moment. Court whispers, idle gossip, occupational politics...those had unfortunately taken center stage as I hurried through - was I in Eregion's gardens? Grudgingly, I supposed that the hedges were a dead giveaway that I'd somehow wandered into them without realizing. I'd been drawn to them countless times over the decades that I'd lived in the city. Ending up there should not have been a surprise.

My mind dwelled - foolishly, perhaps - upon my worries. How was I supposed to ignore what they were saying? It wasn't as if the other healers were trying particularly hard to hide the fact that they despised me for my heritage. After all, in their eyes a Peredhel - one of Half-elven descent - could never do as well as someone who possessed only Elven blood. I'd trained under several of the best healers known to Elvendom, but still that was not enough for the wagging tongues attached to judgmental minds.

All I wanted was to help heal the injured, but because of my status, I was relegated to organizing supplies and sweeping the floors of the infirmary. Had I been given the chance to prove my worth and demonstrate my training, I might have been able to advance further. As it stood, however, I only had a few of the common families of Eregion who trusted me enough to tend to their wounds and ailments.

Despite my situation, I made an effort never to complain. I took what opportunities were offered and made do. After all, if I had complained, not only would I have been seen as ungrateful, but I would've been proven to be, in the eyes of those who disliked me, even weaker than I was already perceived to be. I was allowed to remain in Elven territory. Should that not be enough for one lowly Peredhel?

That didn't stop me from feeling frustrated, though. Overhearing the last of the other healers' insidious comments after a long day was what broke my resolve. As I wandered through the maze of shrubbery, hot tears rolling down my cheeks, I hated that I'd let them bother me this much. Was I truly so weak-minded that I could not handle a few insults? Surely, I must be.

"Are you alright?" A warm but tentative voice called, and I tried to quickly wipe away my tears. Whoever had been kind enough to check on me didn't need to be bothered by a weepy Elleth.

"Yes, of course," I called as I posted on a faux smile and turned to find– "Lord Celebrimbor! Forgive me, hir-nin."

I began to drop into a low, deferential curtsy, but a gentle hand grasped my shoulder, stopping me.

"Please, my lady, there is nothing you have done which requires an apology." Having only seen him from a distance, I'd never spoken to Lord Celebrimbor before. I hadn't expected his voice to be so kind. I looked up, and he smiled at me.

I had never been looked at with such radiant warmth in all my life. Words utterly failed me. I should have said something - anything - but I could not seem to speak.

The light of the setting sun created a golden aura around Lord Celebrimbor's head, making him look like a heavenly being sent by the Valar. For a moment, I forgot all about my frustration and grief.

Those closest to him must scramble for even a few moments with him. How could they not? The greatest of the Elven smiths was also the most attractive Elf I'd ever met.

"There we are," he murmured as my eyes met his. "Would you perhaps like to join me?"

For the first time, I noticed he was holding a plate of lemon cakes. He'd likely come out to the gardens to relax with a sweet treat, only to find a distraught mess instead.

"O-Oh, thank you, my lord, but, truly, I do not wish to intrude," I stammered, but he let out a gentle laugh that made my heart twist in my chest.

"I will not force you, of course, but you should know that I would welcome your company," he said, glancing between myself and the lemon cakes. "Over the years, I have found that something sweet can help lift the spirit. Besides, I don't think I should eat all of these myself. My tailor would be quite cross if he had to replace my entire wardrobe."

I doubted a figure like his could ever be diminished by the insignificance of a few lemon cakes, but the need for friendly companionship was so great within me that I allowed myself to take his not-so-believable excuse at face value.

"Only if you're certain, my lord." His smile widened, and he eagerly led me to a bench nestled between a pair of pink flowering dogwood trees. Once we were seated, I finally took a moment to observe my companion. Wearing deep blue velvet robes, delicately embroidered with beaded leaves and vines, Lord Celebrimbor of Eregion sat beside me with all the gravitas and dignity of a king. His gaze was as soft as his touch had been upon my shoulder.

But he was a lord, and one of the most skilled Elven smiths in history. I was only a Peredhel. No matter how handsome I found him, common people like me did not end up with nobility.

Distracting me from my sobering thoughts, Lord Celebrimbor offered me one of the little iced cakes. I couldn't help but smile at the slices of candied lemon decorating the top.

"I must admit," he murmured as I gratefully took one, "that sweets are somewhat of a weakness of mine. The bakers whose establishments I frequent across the city have become rather aware of the fact that this variety in particular are my favorite. I fear they quite effectively know how to convince me to part with my coin."

That fit him quite well, in my opinion. The brightness of the citrus, the sweetness that tempered the flavor...nothing could have suited his personality more fully. Those cakes were light and sunny, as was he.

After we'd eaten in peace for a time, conversing quietly between ourselves about everything and nothing, Lord Celebrimbor looked at me curiously.

"If you don't wish to discuss it, I promise you are under no obligation to do so, but is there someone to whom I should speak in your defense?" I looked at him in askance, and he gave a small smile. "'Tis heinous behavior to bring such a lovely lady to tears. If there is someone who requires a stern speaking to, please consider my services in that department most humbly offered."

His gaze was so earnest and concerned that I had to avert my own lest I tear up again. None had ever offered to come to my defense before, opting instead to suggest that I grin and bear it, or that I develop a thicker skin as comments like that were to be expected for one of such low, unworthy birth.

"You are very kind, my lord, but, truly, you needn't trouble yourself." I barely dared to look back over at him after a moment's pause. "After all these years, I should have developed a thicker skin."

Celebrimbor wiped his fingers on his handkerchief and leaned a little closer to me, clearly engrossed.

"About what, my lady?"

I hesitated. It was perhaps vain, but I did not relish seeing the kindness in his eyes melt away when he realized with what sort of person he'd been conversing. But there was nothing for it. One did not simply ignore the Lord of Eregion when he asked you a question, especially not when he'd been kind enough to offer you food, comfort, and company. As much as I wanted to run, I remained seated.

"I am Half-elven, my lord," I nearly whispered, dropping my eyes to my lap where I was wringing my hands nervously. "My heritage is...somewhat of a common topic of discussion, especially with regards to my abilities."

"Abilities?" He asked gently, and I nodded my head.

"I am a healer, my lord. I was trained by some of the most skilled Elves I have had the fortune to know," I elaborated. "Truly, I do not mind helping where I can, and if it were a simple matter of my skills not being necessary, I would not be quite so frustrated, but..."

I trailed off, unsure of how to express the rest of my thoughts without sounding pathetic and childish.

"...But you've been overlooked because of who your parents were," he finished sounding somber. "My lady, I am truly sorry that you have had to endure such unjust treatment. None should behave so dishonorably, especially not here in Eregion. After all, in Lindon, our High King's herald is Half-elven. Ability has nothing to do with blood, as my people should be aware. I daresay you've likely heard some unworthy remarks, as well, for which I can only apologize. My people should know better."

I expected pity or disdain when I finally dared to look up at him again, but instead, I found only a reassuring smile and warm eyes skimming my face.

"Thank you, hir-nin, for your kindness. There was no need for you even to speak with me, much less be in my company, but I am so very grateful that you did."

Celebrimbor's smile widened, and he caught one of my hands between both of his. I couldn't help but marvel at how large they were, and how strong the calloused pads of his fingers felt. He must work quite diligently at his craft.

"It has been my honor, I assure you."

He paused, looking unsure as if considering whether he should say what was on his mind.

"Do you know, my lady, I have seen you walking in the gardens before. I should have wished you a good day or stopped to say at least 'good morning,' but I...well, I did not wish to intrude upon your peace," he said, and I looked at him in awe. "You always seem so relaxed when you are amongst nature, strolling through the starlight. Oft in the evenings, I take a break upon the balcony of my tower, and I have the loveliest view of the moonlight cascading down upon you."

He'd seen me before? I hadn't been aware that he knew of my existence, much less remarked upon the walks I took to clear my head.

"I wish I had mustered my courage earlier, however, since I cannot change my prior cowardice, I would like to focus instead upon the future. Might I have the honor of knowing you better?"

How could I have possibly refused? Why would I? That evening had been the start of a friendship that I'd never expected to have. Celebrimbor was always courteous and warm with me, allowing me to see his forge and discussing his work with me.

He never admitted to any involvement, but I suspected that he was the reason why barely a week after our initial conversation I was allowed - finally - to put away my broom in the healers' halls and begin treating patients. Even the cruel whispers and rumors died down to only the most occasional instance.

The Lord of Eregion shared my joy when my skills were begrudgingly praised, delighting especially when one of Lindon's visiting generals bore witness to my work. He was so pleased with how I'd patched up a small squad of his soldiers that I'd received a letter of thanks from the High King himself by royal messenger not long after the general had reported home safely.

Celebrimbor had been so excited for me that he'd sent his smiths and apprentices home early and opened a bottle of wine in celebration. That night, it had been particularly difficult to tamp down my growing admiration for the gorgeous Ellon who'd been so kind to me. Undoubtedly, he'd never feel more for me than friendship, but my heart did not seem to grasp that particular fact. When he finally walked me to my door and bid me sweet dreams, I knew for certain that I was doomed to love one who could never return my feelings. I was content, however, to simply be around him.

As the years passed, I slowly climbed the ranks of Eregion's healers, eventually earning the grudging respect of my peers, and the one person who had believed in me from the start seemed no less proud of me than he had from the beginning. It was not uncommon, of a free evening, to find me curled up in the uppermost room of Eregion's tower, discussing my lord's latest projects or ideas, or sharing herbal tea and something sweet from one of Eregion's bakers.

Eventually, after about a century's residence in Celebrimbor's city, and after having spent about three quarters of that as his friend, he summoned me to his tower during one of my shifts in the healers' halls. That, in itself, was not uncommon. He and his smiths were rather prone to accidents, especially given the nature of their work. Celebrimbor always asked for me personally, and as this time was no exception, I gathered a bag of medical supplies and hurried to see what might have happened.

The Lord of Eregion had been quite consumed by his latest project, and, though it was a rare occurrence, he had not discussed it once with me. I'd thought it strange that he was being so secretive, but after all, he was the Lord of Eregion first and foremost. He owed me no explanations. I thought nothing of it.

When I arrived, however, instead of seeing the forges blazing and the smiths all chattering about their work, I found only Lord Celebrimbor seated beside one of the windows, holding a letter in his hand. His forges were stone cold, and a sad, worried sort of expression played across his face.

"My lord?" I called quietly, hovering in the doorway. I felt as though I was intruding upon something private to which I ought not be a witness, but he had summoned me. I could not keep him waiting. At my quiet question, he looked up and plastered what I easily recognized as a forced smile across his lips. "You asked for me?"

"I did, mellon-nin," he said, gesturing for me to come closer. "Come, sit with me."

I did as he asked, setting my bag at my feet and looking at him curiously as I perched beside him on the divan.

"Are you hurt?" I could see no evidence of an injury, but he'd hidden them quite well before.

"Oh, no. No, forgive me. I hope I did not worry you," he said patting my arm gently. "Actually, this morning I received a rather important letter from High King Gil-Galad."

Silently, he held the folded parchment out to me, and I accepted it carefully. The King's seal was unmistakable upon the outer fold. My eyes skimmed the neat, swirling hand in which he'd penned his missive, and I had to reread it twice before the meaning fully sank in.

Wide-eyed I looked over at Celebrimbor whose smile now reached his eyes. He still looked rather sad, though.

"The High King wishes me to come to Lindon?" I asked feeling rather stunned. "But...why me?"

"From what I understand, he has heard many positive things about you and your skills as a healer from his soldiers and several of his friends," Celebrimbor said as I handed the letter back to him. "He wishes you to train a group of healers so that Lindon will be in good hands as Eregion is."

I was speechless. Only just managing to keep my jaw from dropping, I blinked uncomprehendingly a few times.

"You come highly recommended to him. In fact, he asked for my opinion, and I told him the truth: that you are one of the most skilled healers of your age that I have ever encountered. Your bedside manner puts your patients at ease, and you are able to tend their wounds calmly and skillfully," Celebrimbor continued, setting the letter aside and grasping my hands. "There is no one better for the position, I assure you. You will excel in Lindon as you have here."

Finally forcing my voice to work again, I found myself stammering.

"I...Did the King specify how long I would need to remain there?"

"He said it might take two years, perhaps three," he answered, and as if he could read my thoughts, Celebrimbor tilted my chin up and looked into my eyes. "Eregion will still be here when you return. In any case, it was not a request. It was an order. You shall need to leave in the morning."

"That soon?" I asked feeling nerves start to bubble up within me. I was excited for the opportunity, of course, and honored beyond words that Gil-Galad had asked for me personally, but...the thought of leaving Celebrimbor and my home at such short notice frightened me.

My lord's arms wrapped around me, drawing me into a tight embrace which I returned wholeheartedly. Burying my face against his shoulder, I savored the feeling of being so close to him. I would not get the opportunity again for a long while.

"Stay here with me tonight," he murmured against my scalp, and I nodded my head silently in agreement. The pair of us barely let go of each other, and when we awoke cuddled together on the divan with the morning light streaming across our sleepy faces and rumpled clothes, there were no sufficient words to express all that we felt at this forced parting.

The final glimpse of Eregion's gates as I passed through them atop my horse, flanked on either side by guards, felt terribly final.

--

Lord Celebrimbor and I had corresponded via messengers since my arrival at Lindon, but shortly after his new forge had been built, his letters had all but ceased. I tried not to let my heartbreak show, but the High King, who had quickly caught on that my feelings for Celebrimbor were slightly more than friendly, noticed immediately.

After one of my meetings with him discussing the progress of his healers-in-training, he called me to a halt as I prepared to take my leave. His herald - my new and very dear friend, Elrond - was still there, but courteously acting as though he could hear neither of our voices as he packed away a stack of parchment.

"My lady, I have no doubt that he is simply caught up in his work," Gil-Galad said as he offered me a softer look than I was accustomed to seeing upon his regal features. "Given how Lord Celebrimbor has spoken of you in the past, he would not give you up so frivolously."

If only I believed he was right. Oh, I did not believe Celebrimbor to be cruel enough to do so, by any stretch of the imagination. I did not, however, believe myself to be important enough to deserve his attention, even after so many years of friendship.

Instead of voicing such concerns, however, I merely thanked the King for his reassurance, bowed my head respectfully, and went back to my duties.

A few silent months later, however, Elrond sought me out in the healers' halls and led me to an urgent meeting with the King. Beside a small table stood High King Gil-Galad and one of his commanders.

"Thank you for coming, my lady," the King said ushering me to a seat. He dismissed his commander, and I looked at him in askance. "I would not normally trouble you, but I'm afraid this concerns you."

I glanced up at Elrond and found a concerned, slightly guilty expression on his face.

"My lady, we believe that Sauron is in Eregion," the King said, and I felt as though I'd been slapped. "His goal is to create rings of power similar to the trio we already have. Naturally, to do this he would need a skilled smith..."

He trailed off, allowing me to come to the conclusion myself, and when I did, my stomach churned.

"Celebrimbor," I breathed, and he nodded his head.

"We are gathering our armies now, preparing to defend the city against another threat, but as we do so, we will also attempt to remove Lord Celebrimbor from Sauron's influence." Much of what the King said afterward was a blur. When he came to my particular duties as a healer, I paid close attention, noting all the preparations which would need to be made rather rapidly.

Before Elrond could leave, I dragged him into a hug and made him promise to be safe. Not long after, the rest of Lindon's army departed, and I was filling my time with work to distract myself from my fears.

--

Waiting for the High King and his soldiers to return was tantamount to torture. I had friends who were risking their lives in this conflict, of course, but even more than that, the fate of Eregion terrified me. The city had been my home for nearly a century, and I was naturally concerned for its people, but I was even moreso for Celebrimbor.

If I dwelled for too long upon that distinction, my own selfishness closed around my throat like a vice, forcing conflicted tears to well up in my eyes. When I thought of his kindness and all that he'd done for me, however, I found it easy to blink them back. I could not find it within myself to feel guilty for my concern over one so gentle and warm.

So, I waited with the other healers, giving orders where I could for casualty preparations, ensuring all of the supplies were well-ordered and accessible to all of us. Our patients would have traversed a long road home, victory or no, and we did not wish to prolong their discomfort any more than was necessary.

Horns blared at the gates a few days later, and we rushed out to receive the soldiers, injured and exhausted as they doubtless were. Fear scraped away inside me when I contemplated how many might have been lost when I saw how somber the mood was.

Tamping down my personal feelings, I moved with the swarm of healers, pulling aside all who were injured and beginning to treat the most serious problems first. We'd been working for only a few hours when a hand landed on my shoulder.

Elrond, dirty, defeated, and utterly bereaved stood at my side.

"Mellon-nin," he breathed, and I wrapped my arms around him. He embraced me fiercely, silent sobs wracking him as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. "Eregion..."

My heart constricted at his tone.

"The city fell," he mourned, and I felt a rising sort of panic.

"Did any escape? The people? The soldiers?" I asked, hesitating before I added, "Lord Celebrimbor?"

His nod against my shoulder brought tears to my own eyes. When he pulled back, he took a deep breath to steady himself.

"The High King wishes to see you. Immediately. You will want to bring supplies with you," Elrond murmured, but I caught sight of blood-soaked fabric peeking out from beneath his armor. I waved one of my best healers over.

"Thank you, mellon-nin. I am glad beyond words to see you returned. I'll go to the King now, but you are not to leave until your injuries have been seen to. No arguments, darling herald."

He gave me a damp smile and acquiesced to my demand after stealing another quick hug.

Tucking into a bag everything that I would need to treat potential injuries inflicted upon the High King, I rushed down the corridors on the heels of the soldier sent to guide me. He would not have sent for me unless it was serious. Instead of finding the King inside, however, he was just outside the door speaking with one of his guards. Gil-Galad dismissed both guards almost as soon as I arrived.

"Thank you for coming with such haste," he said, and as I took him in, he looked dirty, bruised, but otherwise unharmed.

"I was told you required a healer, Your Grace."

"Not I, though I did send for you. Your patient is within. You needn't knock," he said gesturing to the door to his guest's rooms. I made to go inside, but he caught my elbow, drawing me to a gentle stop. "My lady, I should warn you...'tis Lord Celebrimbor."

My heart nearly beat out of my chest with worry.

"How bad is it?" I rasped, and the High King's expression softened.

"Breathe. It is not life-threatening." I nearly fainted with relief, sagging heavily against the wall and allowing my eyelids to flutter shut. Gil-Galad placed a comforting hand upon my shoulder. "He was being held and manipulated by Sauron. He was chained to his forge with unbreakable restraints. The only way he could escape was to...remove one of his thumbs."

My eyes snapped up to meet his in utter horror at what Celebrimbor had been forced to do simply to preserve his own life. Finally, I forced myself to draw a steadying breath.

"Is there any swelling? Inflammation?" I managed to ask, and the King shook his head.

"No, there have been no complications thus far," he said, but he hesitated a moment. "I called for you, not because of the severity of his injury, but because he needs you. He rested only fitfully in his saddle. He called out for you...wept in his sleep."

Me? He'd called out for me?

"You are the greatest comfort he could have, my lady. He may not yet know that he has your love, but he needs it nonetheless."

I straightened as heat spread across my face. Gil-Galad had known of my feelings for Eregion's lord for some time, but we'd never discussed it so openly before. Oh, certainly he'd eluded to the subject before, giving subtle hints and encouragement when our correspondence effectively ended, but this...

"Thank you, Your Grace," I said in the steadiest voice I could manage. I hoped he understood that I didn't just mean for the reassurance. When he bowed his head and took his leave, I faced the door, steeling my nerves as I pulled it open–

And my breath froze in my chest. There, kneeling upon the ground in the middle of the floor, staring out into the sunlit garden, was Lord Celebrimbor. He seemed not to notice my entry. Closing the door behind me, I walked slowly over to him. Seeming both penitent and relieved, Eregion's lord remained stationary as the golden light of day poured across his skin. Dirt, grime, and dried blood covered him, but he was still the loveliest sight I'd ever laid eyes upon.

"My lord?" I murmured quietly, setting aside my bag as I knelt beside him, and with a slow blink, he roused himself from whatever thoughts had so captivated him. Slowly, he turned to face me, and amidst the dirt on his face, there were tear tracks.

His lips parted in surprise when he saw me, and when I offered him a gentle smile, he lifted his uninjured hand, caressing my face as if he could not believe that I was truly there.

I leaned more solidly into his touch, closing my eyes against the rising emotions within me, and a broken sob of my name tore from his lips.

"Y-You're here. You're real," he croaked as he began to weep. I drew him into my arms without a moment's hesitation. Clutching at me as if I might disappear, Celebrimbor fell to pieces in my arms. I could do no more than whisper reassurances and press gentle kisses atop his head.

An Ellon as sweet as he did not deserve to feel as terrible as he clearly did. The urge to smite Sauron - to rend him in half with my bare hands - grew with every tremble of my lord's frame beneath my hands.

In fragments, he spilled the story to me, explaining all that had happened between himself and Sauron - including how he found fragments of one of his letters to me in the corner of his forge where the manipulative bastard had thrown it. Hushing Celebrimbor's subsequent apologies, I ran my fingers gently through his hair, trying to soothe him.

Eventually, his tears dried up, his breathing became steadier, and he lifted his head from my shoulder. Without thought, he cupped my face with both hands. A grimace twisted his features and he began to whisper shame-filled apologies as he pulled his injured hand away.

I caught his wrist carefully, and pressed my own fingertips gently against his lips to silence him. Celebrimbor looked stunned even as his cheeks reddened.

"Have you forgotten that I am a healer, my lord? You needn't apologize. I have seen and treated much worse." His shoulders dropped a small measure at my reassurance, and I turned my attention to his poor hand. At least the cut had been clean. It was already beginning to heal quite nicely, but it would still need a little help. "Truthfully, this is doing quite well. Might I make a suggestion?"

"Anything," he breathed, and the sincerity in his eyes tore at my heart.

"It would be wise for me to give this a preliminary wash, then cover it in a protective layer so that we can get the rest of you clean. Afterward, I should be able to patch you up much easier, but only if that is agreeable to you," I said, but he was already nodding his head.

"Yes. Yes, entirely agreeable," he said beginning to smile tentatively again. "I shall humbly submit to any treatment you think is necessary."

My breath hitched in my throat. How could he still be so trusting even after everything that had happened? I vowed to myself that I would never abuse his trust. I loved him too much to even consider such treachery.

"Let me fetch a basin and send for a bath to be drawn, and I shall be right back," I promised, and he drew a shaky breath as I stood.

I was only apart from him for a few moments, but when I returned with the basin of water and the supplies, he looked up at me like he'd never been happier to see me. The joy radiating from him even beneath the dirt and dried blood covering his skin relaxed a ball of tension that had resided in me since I heard about the threat to him and his city.

He was here. He was alright. And Sauron had not broken that which was most important: his spirit.

Setting everything beside us, I laid a towel across my lap and gently pulled his sleeve back past his elbow. Shuffling a little closer so that neither of us would strain ourselves in the reach, I began to clean his wound, as well as his arm so that he needn't get it wet during his bath.

As I worked, we fell into a companionable silence that was only broken when a few strands of hair fell into my face having escaped my hair ribbon. With a touch lighter than a smith should ever have, Celebrimbor moved them behind my ear, his large, warm fingertip brushing over the point.

He'd never done that before.

I looked up to thank him, and I was taken aback by how close we were to each other. My nose was barely an inch from his. I swallowed heavily, forcing my heart, racing though it was, to remain silent.

"Thank you, my lord," I whispered. His breath caressed my skin, and I forced myself to look back down and finish my task. He did not need to be bothered with a childish infatuation. Why, oh why was professional distance so difficult to maintain around him?

Wrapping a few protective layers over the freshly cleaned wound, I tied it off carefully. It was a bit looser than I would normally make a dressing, but it was only meant to last long enough for a bath.

A knock sounded at the door as I finished up, and that, thankfully, was the announcement that it was ready - apparently the speed was thanks to High King Gil-Galad's foresight. He'd ordered the water drawn and heated when he sent for me, to be delivered when I asked.

Once we were both on our feet, however, Lord Celebrimbor seemed to freeze, nerves playing across his features.

"Is something amiss? Are you in pain?" I asked, but he'd shown no sign of it thus far. He drew a deep breath, his cheeks turning a bright red.

"You needn't do this if you...if this causes you discomfort, I'm certain I could manage." He sounded so embarrassed. At my confused expression, however, he elaborated. "I do not wish to be improper. To force you to see...well, more of me than is decent."

The precious man. Was that all he was worried about?

"There is no need for shame," I murmured, "in my occupation, nudity is as common as leaves on trees. I shall touch you no more than is necessary, and the moment you wish for privacy, you need only tell me, and you shall have it."

Celebrimbor seemed relieved, which wasn't surprising since Sauron had been holding him captive. I doubted he'd been left alone for even a moment.

"I...do not wish to inconvenience you, but I...don't think I..." he stammered as he tried to compose his thoughts. "Washing might be difficult on my own. I should be able to do some myself, but the rest..."

Holding his good hand with my own, I gave him a gentle smile.

"It is no inconvenience, and you should not be made to feel guilty for daring to ask for help." After a brief hesitation he nodded his head.

"In that case, thank you, híril vuin. I would be glad of your assistance," he said allowing me to lead him to the bathroom.

Carefully, I untied the laces of his tunic, easing the fabric from his injured side and apologizing every time I even expected him to twitch in discomfort. His bare chest ought not to have surprised me; he was used to laboring in his forge. His defined musculature was well-earned. Once he was down to just his leggings, he blushed brightly, and he asked if I might step out while he got into the bath. He would still need help washing, so I would need to return, but I could easily grant him that.

"Thank you, my lady. I realize that it is silly for me to ask, but..." he shrugged and trailed off bashfully.

"It is not silly, especially if such a simple thing would help you feel comfortable. Oh, by the way, have you eaten today?"

"I believe so, but...several hours ago." Nodding quietly to myself, I formed a plan.

"Then, I shall have some food sent up. I'll just be in the other room, so when you're ready to wash, call for me," I ordered, and he nodded his head. "Do not be afraid to ask for help should you need it before then."

I expected him to protest, but he agreed easily, allowing me to pat his bare shoulder before I stepped out.

Locating the servant that Gil-Galad had assigned to us, I asked for a dinner tray, along with a plate of lemon cakes and a pot of herbal tea - a sweet combination that I knew Lord Celebrimbor favored.

Though the cakes would not heal his thumb, they were exactly what he needed to lift his spirits. Something familiar that might bring him some comfort.

Ducking back into the bathroom when he called for me, I saw that my patient now lay with his eyes closed and his head resting against the rim of the tub behind him. Injured hand aside, he looked like one of the Valar lounging after a battle - a beautiful, larger-than-life figure in resplendent repose. I almost hated to disturb him.

He'd clearly managed to clean his face and part of his upper body, but his hair and back needed a little attention, along with his right arm. As I approached, I did my best to keep from looking lower than his neck, staunchly ignoring the part of my mind that was too focused on how good he looked while wet.

I moved a stool beside the tub and picked up the washcloth that he'd draped over the rim. When I looked back up at him, Celebrimbor's eyes were already watching me as a small smile stole over his lips.

"May I touch you, mellon-nin?" I asked, keeping my voice low so as not to disturb the calm spell that seemed to have fallen over us both. Had his pupils blown wider, or was that my own wishful thinking?

"Of course, you may. You, of all people, need never ask," he murmured.

"If you want me to stop at any point, tell me, and I swear to you–"

Celebrimbor grasped my hand.

"I know, mîr-nin," he said leaning forward until his damp forehead could meet mine. "I trust you. You have never hurt me, nor would you ever do so."

Drawing in a shaky breath, I allowed my eyelids to flutter shut. He'd never called me his jewel before. Surely, that was a sign of his exhaustion. Celebrimbor always had become softer and more prone to displaying platonic affection when he'd worked for too long, ignoring his own growing fatigue. As much as I wished it had meant more, I knew it never would, but as our breath mingled in this stolen moment, I felt a flicker of hope.

When we eventually pulled far enough apart for me to help him wash up, I tried to focus on the task at hand, rather than the feeling of my lord's muscles beneath my soapy fingers. Although, admittedly, I did allow myself the indulgence of giving him a small scalp massage as I washed his hair, combing my fingertips through his locks until not a single tangle impeded their flow.

Eventually, the water lost its heat, and I fetched a bathrobe and some towels from the side, bringing them closer for his use.

"If you would like me to step out..." I began to offer, but Celebrimbor shook his head.

"No. Truly, I should not have sent you out before. I was...Well, I feel much more like myself, now," he said, "and I have never been afraid of you seeing all of me. You know more of me than any other."

With a gentle smile, I moved the stool I'd been sitting on back to its place in the corner, draped a towel over my arm, and offered my lord my hands. He didn't hesitate to take them. Once he was on his feet, I glanced down to help him step out of the tub and–

Where toned thighs met, I was not at all surprised to see that his endowment was as attractive as the rest of him. And suitably sized.

My eyes met his, and I had no doubt he could tell I'd looked. Professional distance aside, I couldn't help giving him a mischievous smile.

"As I said before: you have no reason to be ashamed," I murmured, hoping that he could hear that which I was too afraid to say - the opinion which I, a mere healer, had no right to hold.

In no time at all, Celebrimbor was dry and wrapped in a soft set of silk robes. We thought it best, as he would be recovering from his ordeal for the next few days at least, to forego higher maintenance garments.

"Lemon cakes?" Celebrimbor asked as he took a seat on the divan that I'd moved farther into the sunlight - he seemed to savor it before. He looked between me and the tray as if attempting to solve a problem. "They're my favorite, but...how did you...?"

I couldn't help but smile as I crushed some herbs in a mortar and pestle, adding in some oils to bind the mixture together.

"You mentioned it the day we met," I answered. That day was one of my most pleasant memories, despite how it had started. The scent of dogwood blossoms still lingered in my memory as sweetly as perfume, lulling me back to that day as gently as a spring breeze.

"But...that was decades ago. Why would you remember something so trivial?" He asked, and looked up at him. Disbelief colored his features along with something softer - something I'd never dared to imagine seeing upon his face.

"Because it's something about you," I admitted as my heart hammered in my chest. Dropping my gaze back to the herbs, I tried to act as though I was still completely focused on creating the poultice my lord's hand required instead of my poor racing heart. Dropping my voice to a whisper, I both hoped and did not hope that he would hear me. "Everything about you matters to me."

Carrying the mortar and pestle over once I'd gathered myself, I took a seat beside him and lifted his injured hand.

"Forgive me. This will sting for a moment, but the oils should soothe the pain away quite quickly," I stated. With all the care I could muster, I scooped out part of the light green substance and dabbed it ever-so-lightly upon his wound. He didn't even flinch as I worked.

Truly, I should not have been surprised. Celebrimbor was a smith. He was used to injuries, even if they were not on par with...well, this. I'd set a broken bone in the same hand merely a decade before I was sent to Lindon, and even then he'd only let out a slight hiss of pain. Pride stabbed through me. Of course he'd escaped Sauron. How could he not with such strength?

My vision blurred as I reached for the gauze and cloth that I was meant to be covering the wound with, but I didn't truly process that I was crying until Celebrimbor brushed my tears away with his uninjured hand.

"What are these tears? Am I not meant to be the one in pain?" He asked giving me the same sweet smile he'd offered the day we met.

Turning just far enough to kiss his wrist, I tried to reassure him.

"I'm not in pain. I am more relieved than I have been in all my life." That was far too close to an admission for my taste, but after coming a hair's breadth from losing him, did I really want to stay silent for much longer? Carefully, I began wrapping his hand, ensuring that it was not too loose or too tight.

When I tied off the end over his palm, however, it occurred to me that after all he'd been through, Celebrimbor did not need a declaration of that sort after such a harrowing experience. He just needed a friend to be there with him. As that was all I would likely ever be to him, I smiled up at him and asked him how it felt.

"Perfect," he murmured in a lower, slightly rougher voice than before. Had I caused him more pain? Was the mix of oils wrong?

No. No, breathe. I'd treated Lord Celebrimbor before, and though he was the embodiment of kindness, he would've told me if something felt wrong. Perhaps he was tired? Yes, that was it. His long journey must be catching up with him. I'd noted the same when he was in the bath, so surely that was the only explanation. Carefully, I wiped my hands clean.

"We should change this in the morning and again before you go to bed tomorrow," I murmured, forcing out the professional advice that was so familiar to me. "We'll carry on like that for a few days, and see how you are healing as time progresses."

"As my healer wishes, but..." Celebrimbor trailed off, pausing as if he was considering whether to speak or remain silent. "You're...not leaving yet, are you?"

There was something vulnerable and frightened in his eyes now, something fragile that I was quite sure might break if I did leave. Instead, I smiled at him and shook my head.

"No, my lord. I will stay here with you as long as you wish," I promised, and his shoulders sagged in relief. After setting aside my supplies, I poured his tea how I knew he preferred it, and in the peace of Lindon's golden sunlight, we chatted as we used to. Since our correspondence had been so rudely prevented by a certain dark force, we filled each other in on all that we'd missed.

Celebrimbor insisted during that time, that I help him eat those lemon cakes. By the time the sun had begun to set, we'd even sent for a second pot of tea.

Amidst a lull in the conversation, Celebrimbor covered my hands with his own. My eyes flicked up to his, only to find him looking at me as if I'd hung the very stars in the sky.

"Is something amiss, my lord?"

"I should have told you years ago," he whispered. "I was a coward for so long. I only made it back here - back to you - by the sheerest of luck. I very nearly lost my chance entirely."

"After all these years, 'coward' is not a word I would ever think to call you," I said, but he shook his head.

"But I am. I have been so afraid that I would ruin the rapport that we've built," he insisted. "I am a coward, because I could not tell you until it was very nearly too late. I think a part of me hoped that if I could create something worthwhile...something to change Middle Earth, I would be worthy of risking the admission."

"What do you mean, mellon-nin?"

"My tunic!" He blurted, and at the alarm in his features, I startled.

"I don't understand. What about it, my lord?"

"Has it been taken away to be cleaned yet?" He asked, and I shook my head.

"No, my lord, I haven't had the chance, yet. I can do so now," I said, and he let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh, thank the Valar! No, don't take it yet, but...would you bring it to me?" Without hesitation, I hurried over to the table where I'd laid his clothing and pulled out his rumpled tunic. The stained green velvet had clearly seen better days. I sat beside him once more, and he folded the top inside out. Just inside the neckline, there was a small, concealed pocket. From within it, he pulled a velvet drawstring bag.

Discarding the tunic carelessly on the floor beside him, he took a steadying breath and offered me the bag. I accepted it cautiously, in case whatever was inside was fragile.

"This was the only thing I wanted to sneak out of my forge. The only thing that really mattered besides the nine," he said sounding more nervous than he had for most of the night. Darting his eyes between the bag and my face, Celebrimbor's tongue wetted his lips. "I meant to give it to you before you came to Lindon, but...I wasn't sure if...well..."

He trailed off and swallowed nervously.

"I feel fortunate to even have the opportunity to tell you, late though I am," he murmured. "Please...open it."

Carefully loosening the drawstring, I tipped the contents of the bag gently into my palm. Gleaming silver inlaid with the purest, brightest diamonds I'd ever seen sparkled up at me. Setting the bag aside, I lifted what I thought at first was a necklace, but upon its unfurling, I realized it was something entirely different.

"My lord, this is much too beautiful for one of my station," I protested looking up at him in awe.

"Nonsense. A circlet of a static shape would not adapt well if you wanted to wear your hair in more than one style. Such an adornment was a pleasure to make...for the Lady of Eregion," the last part of his statement came out as a whisper, and I froze. "I-I realize that title would not be applicable now, because Eregion is no more, but...I still wish you to have this. E-Even if you do not feel the same affection for me that I do for you, I still believe it would complement your beauty–"

My lips met his, cutting off his rambling. How could he think I would not want him? After all this time, after a century, I would've thought that I'd failed to hide my feelings quite spectacularly on several occasions. Lingering embraces, rather obviously adoring looks, spending practically all my time with him in his study and his forge - I had not been subtle, mentally berating myself on countless occasions for overstepping my bounds.

"I love you," I blurted as soon as we separated. "Since the day we met, I have held no other in higher regard. But...my lord, I am only Half-elven. You deserve so much better than me."

"Ridiculous. Of all the people I have encountered, you have done something that no other has: you have filled a hole in my heart which I did not know existed before we met. You have given me more to look forward to than just my work and my duties," he said cupping my face so gently between his strong, calloused fingers. The softness of his smile, the lines adorning the outer corners of his eyes - everything about him was so open and vulnerable that despite all the decades of accumulated doubts and fears, I believed him. "Meleth, your light chases away even the darkest of shadows. I love you, and I would spend my life with none but you."

When his lips claimed my own, he tasted of citrus, sugar, and courage. The next morning when High King Gil-Galad asked me to report on Lord Celebrimbor's condition, he noted the gleaming silver atop my head with a conspiratorial smirk and ordered me back to my patient's side. For his health, of course. If he called out a quiet congratulatory wish as I left, well, who could comment upon the thoughts of kings?

~*~*~

Elvish Words:

mîr-nin = my jewel

híril vuin = beloved lady

hir-nin = my lord

meleth = love

~*~

Taglist:

@bigblissandlove1 @horta-in-charge @gandalfthepimp

[saulocept]

come pour yourself all over me

pairing: sebastian sallow/reader/ominis gaunt [poly]

rating: g

summary: Maybe you’ll learn your lesson this time and remember not to forget your gloves. Or maybe you won’t. Sometimes the alternative is just better.

notes: someone actually asked to see the poly fic, so it’s here! i didn’t use the prompt they sent, but i’m grateful anyway. i might actually work on it the next if i have the time and inspiration, so this is for u lovely anon - you know who u r! lots of liberties taken in here, so apologies in advance. 

also: no more love triangles! we each have two hands so we intend to use it! 

You’ve made a mistake, a grave one, though it’s something you’ll only realize much later, when everything’s far too late to take back. Okay, so maybe you’re exaggerating a little, but there’s so much going on already it’s hard to think straight. You’re already running late as it is, and you’re not even sure you’ll make it long enough to live through the consequences. Still, now that you think about it, it’s better this way, to be honest.

You huff out a quiet sigh, leaning back against your seat, wondering if you’ll still make it in time if you run back to your mother’s house and grab everything you’d left behind. You know it wouldn’t work, not really; you’re already halfway through your destination, closer to the end goal than the starting line. It would be a greater waste of time to go back; you know this, of course, but it doesn’t stop you from wishing, anyway, thinking about all the possibilities, the different kinds of outcomes that could still happen.

You aren’t going to be the only one who’s late; it’s a natural occurrence, after all, something you can’t really stop or control, but even the thought of it doesn’t seem as comforting as you’d initially thought. You don’t want to be late, period, not when you’ve spent all this time being a model student and bringing honor to your house.

In retrospect, though, that feels like a very small thing to be hung up on, especially when you’ve got a much bigger thing to worry about. Like having freezing hands, for example. Or maybe dying from the cold.

Still, there’s not much you can do about it now. The train ride doesn’t stop for anyone, and even if it could, where else would you go? Your mother’s house is too far away now, and you’ve not been here in this place long enough that you’d know every nook and cranny, every possible shortcut there is to discover.

You breathe out another sigh, turning your head to glance at the windows outside. Whatever. It’s not like anyone’s ever died from frozen hands. Or maybe someone had and you just haven’t heard of it yet. Maybe you’ll even be the first to find out. Not that it matters anymore.

The train glides into a slow stop, and you see now that you’ve finally arrived. Breathing out a sigh (and accepting your inevitable demise), you shove your hands into the pockets of your coat, then slowly make your way to the glass doors, exiting the vehicle.

It’s not nearly as crowded today, which makes everything a little easier. Small victories, you think, breathing out a sigh of relief as your feet finally meet the snow-packed ground. Not quite a victory, though, because now the hardest part of your journey begins.

It’s a struggle; it’s too cold out, and even through the layers of your clothes, you can still feel the chill. Still, you press on, putting one foot forward, knowing that you don’t have much of a choice in this. You’re not that far from the school now, and though normally, you wouldn’t have minded the walk, thinking of it as an opportunity to acquaint yourselves with your surroundings, now it just feels like torture.

At this point, you’re just trying to survive. Your teeth chatter, and the freezing wind beats at your back, but you ignore it, focusing instead on your surroundings, making up stories about the shops and buildings you occasionally pass by to distract yourself.

You pause for a second, rub your palms together, pressing them against your cheeks in an attempt to keep warm. It barely works; you’re still cold all over, nearly ten seconds away from freezing to death, and somehow, the school seems even farther than ever. Has it always been like this or is it only because you’re almost dying?

Your hands are growing number, colder, and you flex your fingers a little, just to see if they still work. They do. Good. Time to move on. You bite the inside of your cheek, trying not to shiver. You’re almost there, you tell yourself, just to cheer yourself up, have something to look forward to. You’re not sure if it’s true, but you have to believe it is.

The sound of your name stops you in your tracks, and for a second, you wonder if you’re just making it up, hallucinating. Are you having flashbacks now, reliving a life that’s long lost? You reach up, pinch your cheek. It still feels warm enough, more than your hands at least, so that must mean you’re still alive.

Ready to dismiss everything as a product of your imagination, you press on once more, curling your arms around yourself and hissing. There it is again – the sound of your name, coming from somewhere behind you. Frowning, you quickly turn your head, spotting a familiar pair of faces a few feet away from you.

You raise a hand, wave at them, unable to stop yourself from smiling. Quickly, you jog over to where they are, stopping as soon as you’re in front of them. “Ominis, Sebastian,” you say, shoving your hands back in your pockets as you give each of them a nod. Somehow, the sight of them feels comforting, and you can’t help but beam at them. “You’re both late, too.”

Ominis nudges Sebastian’s foot with his shoe. “Someone,” he begins, glaring at his companion for emphasis, “actually forgot to wake on time.”

Sebastian shrugs, then turns to face you, smiling playfully as he gives you a quick onceover. “Clearly I wasn’t the only one.”

“You forgot to set an alarm, too?”

He looks confused for a second, like he doesn’t quite understand, then quickly shakes his head. “No,” he replies. There’s a thoughtful pause that follows, like he’s trying to decide what he should tell you. “We got too caught up in our experiments and lost track of the time.”

You raise a curious brow, inviting him to elaborate, but he only shrugs at you, smiling again. It’s a different kind this time: vague and tiny, not quite reaching his eyes. Almost distant. You’ve been a part of his “experiments” before – which is really just an elaborate term to say that they’ve been learning more of the dark arts spells – so there’s no reason for him to keep this as a secret from you.

Still, you don’t press him for details; you figure that he’ll just tell you all about it when he’s ready, and all you have to do is to just give him time.

“Okay,” you say, reaching out to give him a comforting pat on the shoulder. He relaxes beneath your touch, all the tension from his body disappearing all at once. “But you’ll tell me all about it later?”

“Of course.” The answer’s quick, given without hesitation. He looks up to meet your eyes, then gives you another smile. Warm, genuine – not likes the ones you’re used to. Even now, the sight of it is quick to turn you into a mush. Here, his voice has grown softer, fonder, like he’s telling you a secret – something that’s meant only for you. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving you behind.”

Ominis nudges his foot once more, frowning. “I think you’re forgetting something.”

“Oh!” Sebastian clears his throat, then opens his mouth to try again. “Of course—” he pauses, casts a quick glance at his companion, then turns to look at you again: a twinkle in his eyes, a teasing smile on his lips: “We wouldn’t dream of leaving you behind.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. Already, the day seems to be looking up for you. “Much better.”

There’s a moment of silence between the three of you, slightly awkward. There isn’t much to say after that, you know, nothing else except for the fact that all three of you are already even running later than ever, but before you could even get the words out, Sebastian’s cutting you off, staring at you with an obvious frown.

“You’re not wearing any gloves.” It’s a statement more than a question, and it’s making you nervous somehow, even if you can’t quite tell why. You cast a glance at Ominis, who now has his head turned to you, his eyebrows furrowed slightly in concern. You know he can’t see you, not really, but still; having both their attention already feels too much, too overwhelming.

“I forgot them,” you reply, shifting your weight from one foot to another as you try to affect a lighter tone. Now that you’re saying it out loud, it really doesn’t feel like a big deal. Okay, so you forgot your gloves at home and you don’t have the time to think about replacing them. Who cares? At this point, there’s a bigger thing to worry about, like not being extra late to your first class.

This time, it’s Ominis who speaks. “You didn’t think to come back for them?” he asks, still frowning. There’s no sharpness to his voice, only worry, genuine enough to make you feel guilty. “You could die from the cold, you know.”

“I didn’t want to be late,” you explain, like it would somehow justify your earlier stupidity. You know, it wouldn’t, not really, but it’s not like you can think up of a better excuse. The truth’s all you’ve got, and it sounds even more ridiculous than the lies you usually come up with. “I only realized it when I was halfway through the ride, so I just figured coming back wouldn’t be worth it.”

This time, it’s Sebastian’s turn to speak. “I suppose they wouldn’t have called you a model student for nothing,” he remarks, snorting in amusement. You give him a glare in response; Ominis elbows him in the side, chiding, though Sebastian only laughs, turns his focus back on you. “Alright. Let me see your hands.”

It’s an easy enough request to grant. You take your hands out of your pockets, then gingerly present it to him for inspection. Gently, he takes one hand into his, turns it this way and that, frowning as he looks up at you again. “You’re freezing. How long have you been walking in here again?”

“Er, a few minutes, I think?” you reply. He gives you a disbelieving look, and you bite your lower lip, hurrying to explain, “I figured I could just get warm as soon as I’m back at school, you know, so I was trying to hurry.”

He opens his mouth like he wants to say something else, then shakes his head and sighs, seemingly exasperated. “I can’t believe you.”

You frown at him. “It’s not like I—”

“Here,” Ominis steps forward in your direction, interrupting whatever argument’s brewing between you and his companion. “Let me see.”

He doesn’t wait for a response. Blindly, he reaches for your hands, takes both of them in his. He frowns, though he doesn’t say anything else. Gently, he rubs his hands against yours, then presses them against his cheek – the same thing you did before, you note, though he’s warmer. Softer.

“There,” he says after a moment.  He’s still not letting go of your hands, though his grip is a little looser now – something you can slip away from if you so much as you want to. But he’s warm, and he’s soft, gently tracing circles all over your skin. A gesture of comfort, you think. Or maybe some other form of reassurance – a reminder of his presence, warm and stalwart. You’re not sure what it means, but it doesn’t mean you want him to stop. He looks up at you then, smiling a little, “A little better now, I hope.”

“Thank you,” you reply, and your voice is thick with emotion. You’re almost certain he could hear the smile in your voice, how you’re beaming at him so widely you look ridiculous.

“Of course.” He nods; if he’s ever noticed that, he doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, he squeezes your hand gently. You watch as his smile widens just a little, turns into something teasing. You’re still wondering what any of this means when he casts a glance at his companion, then turns to you as he adds an afterthought: “Aren’t you glad I’m here to save the day?”

Sebastian kicks him lightly in the ankle – more of a warning than a threat, and he rolls his eyes, laughing. “Alright,” he concedes, the smile still on his lips, prettier than ever, “We. Even though I’m doing most of the work.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes in response, though he marches over to you, reaching out to grab your other hand in his. His grip is much firmer, like he’s got no intention of letting you go soon. His touch is warm, though it’s a different kind; more like wildfire: harsh and burning, as opposed to Ominis’s campfire: gentle, cozy. Still, it’s not entirely unwelcome.

“You’re not doing most of the work,” he protests, imitating Ominis’s actions: tracing circles along your skin, vague patterns that seem more like magical symbols than anything. There’s a certain roughness to the way he does it, likely brought on by his frustration, and upon realizing what he’s doing, he pauses for a second, then goes slower, gentler. He looks up and meet your eyes, giving you a sheepish smile – a quiet apology, you’re sure of it. You nod, smile back at him in response, then squeeze his hand. All’s easily forgiven when you know he doesn’t mean to hurt you in the first place. He squeezes back, grateful, then turns his attention back on Ominis. “See?”

Ominis only laughs in response, shaking his head. “I hope you know that we’re even later now because of your antics, Sebastian.”

“You’re as much to blame in this as I am,” Sebastian grumbles, giving his companion a glare. Ominis, however, remains completely unfazed.

He shakes his head again, then turns to face you. “Come on,” he says, tugging at your wrist. He pulls you toward the direction of the school: one hand on his wand, the other still holding yours, tracing absent circles along the inside of your wrist. “Let’s go. Or we’re going to be really late.”

You nod, and the two of you follow after him, the both of them still holding your hands, with no intention of letting go. Huh. Somehow, you don’t seem to mind this at all. -

It’s quiet for the longest time, until Sebastian turns to you, saying your name. He looks thoughtful.

“Hey,” he says. You give him a curious look, waiting. His voice has gone oddly soft, conspiratorial, and you can’t help but feel a little suspicious. What is he up to this time? “I was just wondering—” here, he pauses, lets his words sink in – “Why didn’t you just use a spell to keep warm?”

You feel your cheeks heating up. On the other side of you, you hear a familiar snicker: quiet, subdued; it’s still obvious, anyway, and it only serves to make you even more embarrassed. You narrow your eyes, glare at him, ready to just melt into the ground and disappear. “Shut up.”

He only smirks at you in return.

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 8

Hello! Thanks to WIP Wednesday I managed to finish a chapter of each of the stories so things are moving right a long with this story and the others. With any luck, I'll have Secret Tunnel (game show AU) finished by the time the weekend is over with. Fingers crossed.

In this Steve goes on a bit of a roller coaster of emotion. Also a bit of naughtiness in the middle, so 18+

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

~

Steve put together the package he had be planning after he ate his burger. It was no chili burger from Benny’s but it was really good. It had caramelized onions with a thousand island dressing on the bun which was some kind of fancy bread.

Now the fries, that was something to rave about. They were seasoned and deep fried. He had eaten almost all of them before he even touched the burger.

Then once he was done with the package, he went down to the front desk for them to mail it off. Now he was at loose ends again. He could go back up to his room, but he really didn’t want to.

It had only been three days since he got kicked out and he was bored. So he looked around the lobby for inspiration. Then he spotted a discarded newspaper. Probably someone who wanted to read the financial stuff and found their stocks had tanked.

That was what his dad did every day. He didn’t understand it anyway. You were paying for nothing. Even when things were really good, you didn’t want to sell your shares because things might get better. But if the stock drops than you’ve lost money. It was gambling in the worst sort of way.

But he picked it up and began flipping through the pages, looking for the movie listings. When he found them he looked through the ads to see if there was anything good. Which there wasn’t.

With a sigh, Steve put the paper down. He chewed on his nails for a moment or two. Then he snapped his fingers. He’ll call Dustin. See if the kids wanted to go to the arcade. He had money to burn, so why not let the kids go nuts for a couple of hours.

He looked at his watch and then winced. Oops! Maybe that would be better for tomorrow as it was way later than he thought. But he could call Eddie.

That brought an instant smile to face and he dashed back upstairs. He walked into the room just as the phone began ringing. His smile turned into a grin as he walked across the room. He picked up the phone and said, “Hello!”

“You sound happy, little Canary,” Eddie purred. “You have a good day?”

Steve laughed and kicked his feet. “Much better now that I’m talking to you. I sent off your surprise and it should get to you by the time you get to LA.”

“Aww, baby,” Eddie said. “I can’t wait.” He paused for a moment. “I wanted to apologize to you about Chrissy. She was fucking rude to you and I chewed her out for it.”

Steve blinked for a moment. What now? He was used to people being rude and dismissive to him. No one ever apologized for that. “You did?”

“Yeah, Stevie,” Eddie said sternly. “I did. She thought that this little arrangement of ours was going to be temporary, but when I told her I had paid for the room for six months, she was very upset. She told me I couldn’t just throw money around like that. That’s when I told her about my little presents for you. Then she really hit the fan.”

“Oh,” he murmured. “I don’t want to cause you trouble with your management, but I–I don’t have anywhere else to go. My dad is still out there trying to make my life difficult.” His bottom lip began to shake.

“But don’t worry a thing, pretty bird,” Eddie cooed. “I got her sorted out and now she understands how important this is for me and somehow my impassioned speech managed to sway my bandmates too. I don’t think they knew how bad things had gotten for you.”

“What–what did you tell them?” Steve asked softly, his voice beginning to break.

“Nothing that they didn’t already know,” Eddie soothed. “I just made it as dire as possible so that they got the message loud and clear.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged in relief. That–that he could handle. Because as much as he wanted to shrug this off and pretend he didn’t need or want help, the truth was that he did need Eddie’s help and if getting that help meant getting all of Corroded Coffin on board and their manager, too then that’s what Steve would have to accept that.

“I really appreciate this,” he murmured. “I knew my dad was going to make trouble. I just didn’t think he’d go this far. To make sure I didn’t have anything but my car and my clothes.”

“I know, little Canary,” Eddie said, “just put your trust in me and I’ll take care of you. Okay?”

“Okay, Eddie,” Steve breathed. “I owe you so much and I don’t know how I can pay you back.”

“You don’t owe me anything, I’m just happy to be able to help you.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. He closed his eyes as tears began to well. He was just so overwhelmed from the kindness of a stranger that he was about to start bawling right there on the phone. A hiccuping sob escaped his lips and then it was like the floodgates had opened. He just sobbed and sobbed. No one had ever been this kind to him before.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie cooed. “I wish I could be there to hold you. So this will just have to do.” And then he started singing softly. It was gentle and slow and spoke of having a safe place to land.

Slowly his sobs slackened and he gave a final hiccup. “That was beautiful. Did you write it?”

“Sure did,” Eddie said proudly. “First song I ever wrote in fact. Wrote it the night the court awarded permanent custody of me to my Uncle Wayne. I knew from that moment on that my dad couldn’t come back and hurt me again.”

Steve rolled over onto his belly with a sigh. “That must have felt so good. Having someone you trusted to step up and take care of you.”

“He’s a good man,” Eddie agreed warmly. “And this is me paying that kindness forward to you, little Canary.”

Steve let out a small shuddering breath, letting the knot in his chest loosen. “So tell me about your concert tonight,” he said. “Where were you playing again?”

Eddie made a small huff of laughter. “We were in Texas tonight...”

Steve let Eddie’s warm voice wash over him.

“You feeling sleepy, my little Canary?” Eddie murmured after awhile.

He let out a little sleepy snuffle. “No.”

Eddie chuckled. “If you say so sweetheart.” And he continued to talk until the snuffles became a soft sonorous snore.

“Good night, Stevie.”

~

Steve woke up to the dial tone in his ear again. He moaned as he rolled over on his back and ran his fingers through his hair.

He needed to stop falling asleep to the musician’s voice. It was really becoming a problem. It always made him wake up hard as a fucking rock. He picked up the phone and put back in its cradle. He flopped back on the bed. He lifted the covered to glare at his aching erection.

He palmed his cock in an attempt to get it go to down. But instead it made it worse. He pushed down harder, but his own roughness made him moan. He could feel the outline of cock as it throbbed against his hip.

He hadn’t gone this long without at least rubbing himself off since he was a stupid freshman. He knew he should wait until he was in the shower, but the walk would be so fucking painful. Steve threw off the covers and then shoved the front of his shorts down to free his cock. He then slowly unbuttoned his sleep shirt. Rubbing his nipples and stroking his chest to get himself really riled up.

If he was going to this, he was going to wring out as pleasure out of this as he possibly could. He lifted his hips and slid the shorts off as slow as he could.

He brought his hands back up his legs, his thighs spreading as his palms cupped his cock. It was leaking at the tip and he dragged his thumb over his slit, smearing it across the glans. He moaned again. This time louder. That felt so good. He did it again, going the other direction. Slow and rough.

He imagined Eddie watching him. Directing his every move. How hard he should pull. How rough he should get.

The way he came hard and long was a testament to Eddie’s raw sexual power, and Steve’s vivid imagination. He grabbed a couple of tissues from the tissue box next to the bed and cleaned himself up the best he could.

Then he shucked off the top and waddled into the shower, tossing the tissues on his way.

~

It was a little bit before noon by the time Steve got to call Dustin.

“Steve!” Dustin greeted warmly. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“What are you dorks up to today?” he asked bluntly.

“I don’t know,” Dustin whined. “I don’t think we really have any plans. At least not together.”

“Call up the goon squad and find out,” Steve said. “And then call me back.”

Steve could feel the kid’s skepticism through the phoneline as he thought about it. “Yeah. Fine. I’ll call you back.”

Just before he hung up, Dustin bit out. “We call ourselves The Party, Steve. Not the goon squad.”

“You call yourselves the party Steve?” he murmured. “That’s so sweet of you–”

There was a click and a dial tone. Steve grinned at the receiver before putting it down on the cradle. He threw open his wardrobe and started shifting through his new clothes. He was going somewhere with a lot of kids and soda and greasy pizza, so nothing too fancy.

Not finding anything fit the bill, he went through his drawers. He decided on a nice pair of jeans and a dark blue tanktop with a black short sleeved button up over the top. He fixed his hair in the mirror and then pulled on his old sneakers. He didn’t want to get any of his new shoes sticky.

He had run his fingers through his hair one more time when the phone rang.

“Hello!” he greeted.

“Well, hello to you too little Canary,” the warm velvet voice sounded through phone. “You sound happy today.”

Steve’s gut felt like warm chocolate had pooled there. “Hi-ya, Eddie.”

“I was just calling to tell you that I’ll be out of rang cell phone wise and so you won’t be able to call me until I get to Arizona tomorrow.”

“Awww...” Steve huffed. “Way to make me sad.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Eddie purred. “I just wanted to make sure you knew, so that I didn’t think I was avoiding you.”

A soft smile tugged at his lips. “Thanks for that.”

“Have a good day, okay?” Eddie said.

“I’ll try!” Steve chirped back.

He barely hung up the phone before it rang again, his hand never leaving the receiver. “Hey.”

“Steve!” Dustin cried. “I tried to call you but your line was busy!”

Steve let out a long slow sigh. “Other people do call me, Dusty. Like the guy who’s paying for all this?”

Dustin huffed. “Well if you would just tell me who he is, maybe I would be more forgiving...”

“Ain’t gonna happen, Dusty,” Steve bit out. “I don’t want it getting back to my dad who it is. And before you tell me you’ll never tell. You’ll say something when you think no one is around and someone will hear you. Until my dad gives up his little Crusade, I ain’t tell you shit.”

“Come on, Steve...” Dustin begged.

“I was going to take everyone to the arcade today but if you’re going to keep hounding me about it, maybe I won’t.”

The line went silent.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Dustin murmured. “I just want to make sure he’s a good guy and not taking advantage you.”

Steve let out a breath through his nostrils and closed his eyes tightly. “He isn’t even in Hawkins right now and I don’t know when he’ll be back, okay?” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Okay.”

Then he held the phone away from his ear.

Wait for it.

Wait…for…it.

“You want to take everyone to the arcade?!” Dustin screamed.

“Sure do, bud,” Steve said once it was safe to do so.

“I can’t wait to tell everyone!” Dustin screeched. “When? What time are you come over? Details please!”

Steve worked out all the details and sorted out rides. When they finally hang up, Steve positively beaming.

Eddie was paying forward the kindness his uncle gave to him to Steve. And Steve was paying it forward to his kids. And that left a warm feeling in his chest like nothing else could.

~

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

9- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

10- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @blondie1006 @sadisticaltarts

[danieyells]

Could you imagine if MC doesn't break the curse and dies? And then cutting to a year or two into the future and a couple of the boys are hunting an Anomaly only to get attacked by a bunch of flower monsters, they do manage to beat them back only for them to hear an all too familiar voice asking if they're still alive.

The Anomaly appears before the Ghouls in the most vicious and cruel way possible, in the corpse of MC and in the most mocking tone possible it says, "Hi~ Did you miss me?"

Idk I think that would really mess with the Ghouls.

I don't think the Academy would release them if they turned into the anomaly lmaooooo I guarantee you they will kill them on campus, if they don't keep them locked up for study. They sent Taiga to kill the one that cursed them specifically because Taiga kills things, they want those things dead. In the weeks leading up to their last day they'd be kept somewhere in Mortkranken, being studied and experimented on while flowers grow out of their head and eyes. And maybe some of their friends would want to let them out, but they'd be convinced against it--if they're released the Institute will send someone to kill them. Someone who isn't attached like they are. The best hope they have is being locked up right now.

But yeah if somehow they got out or something. . .I dunno, I think it depends on the ghoul. A lot of them would be very "you are not them anymore" and not show mercy--the ones who would be shaken by it would be more invested in capturing them. If they can talk they can be reasoned with, perhaps they'll come back willingly? But if they're attacking them they have to fight back--although it didn't attack Taiga that we're aware of. We don't even know if the Kyklos can fight, but assuming it does.

Oops my list of responses got long. Some are more intense(?) than others lol

Jin would feel a little tinge of regret that with all his money and power this couldn't have had been prevented. He would try and capture them, but if that weren't feasible. . .he might have had some kind of tracker made when he learned they got away from the Academy. They'll be able to find them and capture them. For their memory he'll make sure they find a way to cure this curse. Maybe, just maybe, they can be un-cursed and they're still in there. So they need to keep the body.

Tohma would do whatever Jin asked of him, assuming he's still working with/for Jin at this point. If Jin says capture it he'll try and capture it. If Jin says kill it, kill it. If he's on his own, he knows he should capture it so he'll try and do that but, again, if it can't be done then cut it down.

It'd definitely bother Kaito. Assuming he doesn't grow a backbone, he'd freeze up. He might try and talk to and reason with them. But if they start trying to attack him he'd have no choice but to fight back, or someone who's with him would fight it for him. Because he wouldn't be able to get past that he's hearing them talk and if they sound scared or in pain or upset by all of this it would be so hard to keep going. But they'd have to. He'd somehow end up capturing them by pure dumb luck.

Luca would just apologize and promise to avenge them before cutting them down, assuming he doesn't eventually understsnd that he needs to capture, not kill, the anomalies. Considering PC's dead, he'd probably have learned by then and he'd spend forever trying to capture them, even if it were on his own.

Alan, like Luca, might pause for a bit but then mercy kill them. He'd feel awful about it afterwards though. Like, you'd need to give the guy a minute for real. Yes, he knows they were already dead and that wasn't really them anymore. But it still feels bad.

Leo. . .I feel like he'd've learned whatever he could about Kyklos after the failure tk break their curse. Like, c'mon, they must've found something out. At some point, he'd learn Ed knew something too and he'd get information out of him. He'd know things the Institute doesn't know. For example, the Kyklos' victim may not be dead in there. The Institute said they'd die but Ed said they'd just turn into the anomaly--the Institute is likely the one that would kill them. So he'd make sure they get captured, or at least make sure they escape instead of get killed if they can't capture them yet. If they can be cured they might be able to come back. And they will fucking owe him. (But, man, he's used AI to fake people's voices before and it's 1000 times worse having that kind of thing used against you. Gross. Hopefully his gum over their mouth will shut them up. Even the way they breathe is way too loud.)

Sho, I think, would still be following Leo's lead. He's be surprised Leo doesn't want them killed until Leo fills him in on everything he learned from Ed. Sho'll be really determined to capture them if there's a chance they're still in there. He'd apologize that Hyde would probably be examining them though. If he tries anything weird, just threaten to curse him, okay? You can't unless he takes his stupid mask off but like. You can threaten him, I'm giving you permission.

Haru would chat right back. Try and convince them to come willingly. If they couldn't be convinced. . .well, sorry, he has to take them in. No hard feelings, right? If they're still in there at all, they have to understand better than anyone how important this is!

Towa would be fucking furious. Like, for a while, too. He very well might slaughter them without mercy. How fucking dare it. The way Alan was beating on Takeru's ghost? Imagine that but with lightning. Maybe an explosion or two. Reduced to ashes. He did not give that thing permission to speak to him. And how dare it use his Dandelion's voice to do so. How fucking dare it think he would feel bad in response to it. It should have knelt and begged for mercy instead of mocking him if it wanted to keep living.

Ren would wince and complain about that being disgusting. C'mon, that's super tasteless. And corny. He's seen this exact kind of thing in a shitty horror movie he watched. . . .he watched it with PC even. Ugh, they're definitely mocking him. Okay, here comes the inner tube, time to go back to the Institute, buddy. Can you not talk the rest of the way maybe? It'll make him feel bad.

Taiga shot the thing before it could even talk. Not dead though, oh no, it just can't walk. Yeah, he did miss you, kitty cat. You've been wasting away out here! It's okay, you actually smell even better, you're gonna taste even better like this! Whoever Taiga is with has to watch him talk to this thing like he knew and loved it while he eats it alive. Keep fighting, kitty cat, keep scratching, good. If they're still in there at all he wants as much of them as he can eat. When he's done it's the most full he's felt in a long time.

Romeo, like Towa, would be disgusted and pissed off and just. Not even be there for it. Oh, no, the second it tried to use that disgusting imitation of PC's voice he was shooting it he was blowing it up. Stop talking. STOP TALKING. How dare you mock Romeo Scorpus Lucci! How dare you TAKE SOMETHING FROM HIM and dangle it, tarnished, in his face! Die!

Ritsu would inform them they've committed some crime against anomalous law by escaping the Institute with intent to spread their curse, and he would be taking them in and having them tried. Sorry, but he won't be defending them this time. He can't forgive what the curse has done to them, but if they come willingly perhaps they'll be given a more gentle treatment and sentencing. Perhaps if they help the Institute they'll be able to be treated and released. Isn't that better than running away forever?

Subaru would feel so bad. . .that they turned into the anomaly is only the anomaly doing what its nature dictated. And now they're only following their new instincts. They know he doesn't want to harm them. Please come back with him. He understands they aren't trying to hurt anyone, and he won't fight if they don't fight. But he can't let them get away, either. Surely if they can speak they're reasonable. If they keep running away someone will kill them. Please just come back. He knows they don't want to be locked up like Lyca was, but it might be what's best for everyone. . .he'll do everything he can to see to it that Darkwick or the Institute treat them well. . . . Of course, he'll fight if he has to. But he'll refuse to use lethal force. Either they'll be captured or they'll escape. No other options.

Haku. . .I think he'd feel bad, but it wouldn't impede him any. He doesn't wanna give them up to the Institute, knowing how they'll be treated, but. . .what's the other option, letting them run free and cursing more people? Letting the prophecy fulfil itself and some calamity happens? Nah, sorry, but they've gotta come back. Not even for the Institute--it's about the Prophecy. If they don't go back soon surely something bad will happen. Things have already been going downhill since they escaped. He'd laugh and play his flute and lock them in with him. Isn't this familiar--but a little backwards? Right back where they started. He's taking them to Darkwick. Time is a flat circle, or whatever.

Zenji, assuming he's still floating around and somehow ends up in this situation, would be so upset and frustrated. . .and he's pretty helpless in these situations too. I assume, as a ghost, Zenji is aware of spirits, and he'd see their soul may still be in there and implore whoever he's with, if they can hear him(I assume he'd be with Subaru) to carefully capture them. Because they may still be in there. Maybe he'd try and communicate with their spirit. Maybe he could get them to control their body just a little bit, just enough to get them captured. If nothing else, even if they die, their spirit can be released right? They should be allowed to move on if they want. They can't do that trapped inside their cursed shell. (But if not he wouldn't mind being ghost partners!)

Ed has met plenty of Kyklos before. He already knows the deal. They are a Kyklos now. There's nothing wrong with that. Congratulations on being freed of humanity--although perhaps they would be happier as a different sort of anomaly than this. He considers letting them go--this mission wasn't about them after all--but he asks if they're happy. He looks into their soul to find if they are happy. They are not. Their instincts will make them run or fight or seek humans to spread their curse to, and they, like a freshly turned vampire, don't have much control outside of their instincts. Kyklos never do. Ed has already graduated and he can go home now. . .and the Greek branch of the Institute will know better what to do with a Kyklos than the Japan branch, he suspects. He's not sure how they'll manage it. . .but instead of taking them to Darkwick, he'll get them out of the country somehow. He'll keep them safe until then. Somehow. Just don't get caught until then, okay? So he lets them go, because he, unlike others, can understand an anomaly. (Towa can also understand, but he was too pissed off to hear them out, of course.) He'll be back for them, because he isn't beholden to the Institute. He wanted to stay in Japan a little longer but this may be more pressing. . . .

Rui. . .god what could he even do. He would feel so bad because Ed already told him they're still in there, somewhere. Would it be more merciful to kill them? It's what the Institute would expect him to do, and they may get on his ass if they learn he didn't even try. . .he'd laugh about them putting him in a tough spot. The Institute didn't get any better in their absence. Will they kill them if he takes them back? Will they at least try to cure the curse after the fact or study them or something first? Is it better to just kill them now?? Is it better to just let them go???? But they'd hurt people. . .in the end, he's a pacifist. If it prevents damage to others and he doesn't have to do the killing, he has to capture them and hope for the best.

Lyca, I think it'd depend on how much they still smell like themself. If they smell like themself still, just heavily obscured by all the flowers, he might try and talk to them and capture them, but if not. . .he'd get mad that this awful thing is using his friend's voice and trying to trick him. He'd probably just kill them then.

Yuri isn't a fighter anyway, but he'd immediately take it out on them verbally. How dare they run away before they could make a breakthrough, how dare they make him look like a failure by escaping??? They should have felt honored to be his test subject! They should have felt honored to be advancing such a valuable study! Even if they died, someone else could live thanks to their sacrifice! Or they could have lived!! So they are getting captured and they sre going back to Yuri's lab and no one else is going to touch or study them without his approval and supervision and he WILL find a cure for their curse, even if that cure doesn't bring them back for additional scolding! Now, Jiro, capture it.

Jiro would be curious as to how much of that talking was still them. He'd keep talking to them. Asking them questions. Do you remember our names? Do you remember what you studied in class? Do you remember the missions we went on? Do you remember when Yuri did this? Do you remember when I did this? Do you remember when you said that? Do you remember how you felt then? Do you feel anything now? He'd be so curious about what's going on in their head and if it's still the PC or if it's just the parasitic anomaly. He'd be studying them and fighting them--and he'd be very certain to capture them. Because he needs to know everything. And if they're still in there, wouldn't it be amazing if they got them back? And, of course, because Yuri told him to. Even if they're gone and their life can't be salvaged, there's so much to be gained from capturing them. Don't make it easy on him. He needs to know what they can do, too.

[t8oo]

By all accounts the lupin fandom has always prided itself as a drama free ship war free open to polyamory and wildly different headcanons fandom. And I can name a few people that have worked hard to keep this place very friendly. And I really started in this fandom in a friendly place. I even managed to make friends that Liked Luzeni maybe even just as much as me. I was ecstasic. I really loved those people so much, I talked to them daily. Some of them I respected so much for their craft. Great.

Id always been upfront and very clear that they were befriending someone who was fucked in the head. And i dont mean seasonal depression type I mean Bipolar and Bpd and all the symptoms it entails. Im not even going to mention the upbringing and the life ive had. All of it was a complete and violently abusive catastrophy.

Last year I exhibited symptoms that were intense. TOXIC. It didnt mean that I was toxic to my friend, because I was rational enough to know about boundaries. I was at the end of my rope. For undisclosed reasons I had to be interned. Great. During the ultimate time that lead me to become crazy, not a single person i thought was my friend gave me a hand. I received a message from one friend while I was litteraly perched on the windowsill about to jump telling me about their life. Not asking abt me. I sent some Hey thats cool but im about to kill myself and they didnt reply. Days after I was interned they told me that my message triggered them so they had to have an emergency meeting with their psychiatrist. Cool. Nothing abt me still. Sorry ? Fallout 1

During yhat whole shitstorm and despite everything a friend became my like. favorite person in bpd terms. Just really fucking embarassing shit really. I tried to prevent it, i tried to pull out not to make it worse, which not only was making it worse but was making it toxic. I aparently blew out, which of course my memory conveniently forgot. I said something ahout their partner. They never explained what. Again, after internment I apologized. They told me they needed time. They bsolutely deserved it. I was probably horrible to warrant that reaction. I might even have been toxic. Again, I do not remember what I even said. Im not a demonic entity it couldnt have been like I desacrated them and insulted them beyond repair. Even in my anger I have always been limited. But all i can do is speculate. They never explained, just took my apology. And then They never came back. That friend I liked so much that despite everything I did to control myself became a person i liked beyond wat was normal. We have had so much fun. Not enough to mend bridges or explained anything. Fallout 2

During that blow out one friend meddled, asking that other friend for information ? I asked to pass along a message to friend B. which friend A refused. Like it was not their business, even tho they were clearly invested in the business enough to talk to both of us about it lol. No problem. 4 days ago thou i confronted a group of friends that were friends As friend, for kicking them out of an rp group for no reason, even bordering on racism. My friend feels hurt about that event, has always hinted at it. it even stopped them from rping, something they did for 12 years. They had no closure and so I tried to bring it to them. Asshole move or empathic ? Thinking back i may have been taking the situation personnaly because i was already on my way out menrally. I dont know. All i know is that four days later, after i talked for hours to that group and the reason why they treated my friend so poorly that they still had scars over it, i was experiencing a mental crisis and that friend refused a request. Great. Fallout 3

The last friend litteraly stood by and said nothing. Not before the fallout and not after. I dont even know'if that counts as a fallout. This girl was so cute, so fun, so talented, so FUNNY. And when it came to a heed she said nothing. No side taking. Neutrality. Okay

At this point I no longer had anyone to talk to I think. I was documenting my attempt and the horrible conditions of the psych ward on twitter for everyone of my "friends" to see. One i particularly loved so much because they genuinely were on the same level of insanity related to luzeni made a tweet about the late hystix, a person i did not know but a lot of the lupin fandom did. A beautiful soul that was always supportive and kind. Everyone was mourning her. It was truly heartbreaking. I hope she is in peace. Our attempts matched in timing, it was actually mindblowing. Mine just fucking failed because of nosy neighbors. I feel so close to her in spirit still. That we both struggled so much that we came to the conclusion that nothing could save us. She did not have the nosy neighbors. That friend mourned her publicly.. on twitter. Ok. Logical, its a depressing, horrible and sad situation all around. All we can do is mourn. Still, it was a friend I was genuinely close to. That never showed the empathy they did to me. Hey dude so im kind of facing the exact same issues but you never reached out ? While my torment was there and documented on twitter because again. I did not fucking know wat was going on. I was in a strict mental ward under a lot of dosage from nurses who refused to give me insulin even thou i was type 1. Friend said that they tweeted at me. No mention of the years and years of discussions we had on discord and me checking up on them everytime they pulled out for severe family matters and i was genuinely concerned. Nope they aparently tweeted something at me. Okay. Thank you for the concern. Your investment really shows. Fallout 4

after that I stopped friends all together. The fact that friends I was talking nigh on everyday to each revealed their lack of concern for me during an extreme mental health crisis was abyssmal to say the least.

Fallout 5 came with Sheen. I was managing a charity zine for Palestine, and the lack of investment from so many artists brought me to the edge. I took it out on Sheen in the softest way possible. I told them I was disapointed in their piece and that it looked low effory. Sheen, a person I had knwon for the entirety of my investment in the lupin fandom, decided that an offense was enough to block me and never speak again. Once again i was on the verge of yet another blow out. And it happened. Lol. Its just so funny in retrospect that everytime I start acting weird alluding to a breakdown people shun me out despite, you know. me being clear abt my medical record. I realized that I was rude to Sheen and it was uncalled for. Apologized publicly not in the attempt that Sheen sees it but just so that everyone knows that if they hear abt the story, at least they know its all been my fault. Online friendships are so cool because it just takes the block button to burn bridges without coming back. With no chance of mending or at least a genuine apology. so Fallout 5

Is there a reason that all of these issues happened within one fandom ? I do think so. Unless i am incredibly unlucky. Or an abusive piece of shit unbeknownst to me. I think that the lupin fandom is surface level niceties. If they dont like you you will know. It will be passive but you will be muted and eventually just ostracized. You will not be invited in fandom events, or group discussions. It did not help that my mental health was constantly deteriorating and I started developping a persecution complex, thinking that people were making secret discords where they were telling others to avoid me or something. Ive endured all of this for one thing. One Humiliating thing : i love luzeni. I love it so much I want a tatto of it. I love it so much that after years before sleep I pick a random fic and then imagine their discussions. I love their dynamic so much. I love their romance I love how fucking inhinged they are i love that they hurt and love each other the same, i love that they cant live without the other, that they genuinely complete each other in a really ugly but complete patchwork of mental illness and really elaborate kinks.

I gave up thou. Another depression, I blew out, attempted again with the window, got caught and sent to the hospital. It pulled me back from the fandom. I realized i was allocating so much of my thoughts to it and how I could be better perceived, how I could make friends again to talk about the fictional thing i loved the most in the world. And I realized that in giving up and keeping to myself, that I could be more stable. That the damage was done and I cant really enjoy this fandom anymore, but Im still attached to the hip to luzeni and so in the words of a really brilliant man... Nah... Ill do my own thing.

U might be wondering why the hell is this bitch airing their laundry publicly. Its therapeutic. You dont have to read or care. If those friends see it, and make a comment of their own about how the events did NOT happen like I told, I would love to hear how they perceived it. I do not give my friendship freely and easily and these people have done profound damage to my abilty to trust. And most of all, I never had any closure. I kept rethinking, blaming them, then myself, then miscommunication, then them and then myself again. To this day I dont know why all of this happend. Did I act like an unfathomable monster, or did my friend simply not give a shit enough to help me through this. I dont fucking know and I cant deny either options. Maybe I am talking through a completely selfish wrapped sens of perception that is not to be trusted. I wouldnt be surprised. I have a very hard time relying on my own brain lately. My health is deteriorating very fast, and shit is getting worse.

The second reason is that I am going to be interned for psychiatric issues for the next 3 months. For the first time in my life I think Ill finally get all the professional support i need, available and close. Im not going to be investing any time in the fandom, if simply talking to the psychiatrist abt this catastrophic strings of fallouts. I might be posting some luzenis, but frankly i doubt it. I only make fanart when I am happy, or sad enough but still capable. Im neither right now. You are not entitled to any of these informations, but I just wanted to write them out of my mind because I have a LOT of baggage to go on through and this is an extra bag I dont need so im throwing it out.

You cannot gauge an entire fandom from your perspective, the same way you cannot gauge an entire userbase. No, tiktokers are not the worst people in humanity. Neither are reddit users. Being on tumblr is cool, but it doesnt make u better than being on twitter. And so this is only my opinion of the lupin fandom. I met some amazing persons that i wish the best for, for ever and ever, but in all the niceties and welcoming you might see, I dont think that extends to a person with mental illnesses that are villified, or out of their control. I can fairly say that my experience was disapointing, and I dont intend to rekindle anything. Ill just be on the fringe maintaining the spirit of luzeni alive because fuck you monkey punch these are my characters now by law.

If you read until this bro get a life. Also im joking, youv given me more consideration than most people i met have. If your take after this is that I am deranged, then youv read right.

Thank you for reading. This blog has always been a pleasure to post on, even my most cringe and embarassing shippy stuff. Ive been met with nothint but support, and I truly enjoy being here because of you. I hope this isnt a 3+ month long goodbye. I hope I draw my lovers again. But I cant guarantee anything. I wish you all health most of all, and love and compassion.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for insisting on an apology?

☆I'M SO SORRY THIS GOT WAY TOO LONG☆

(Ok tbh I feel like I already know the answer, but I'd like some other opinions just in case. Also, I kinda need to vent, sorry)

(ALSO- I tried to post this on reddit AITA and holy shit are they picky about submissions- this story got deleted because "no interpersonal relationship problems allowed". WHAT possible conflict situation would not be interpersonal? Can you even have a AITA submission that isn't interpersonal?)

My mom is a premium member of a casino and she found out that the casino was having a BBQ for the premium members and their guests. So she wanted us to go.

Except she didn't find out about this BBQ until the day before it would happen and I had work that day and since my shift had long ended, I would not get a chance to talk to anyone at work about switching shifts and I don't have anyone's number to ask. So my mom decided for me that I should just call out.

Now here's where I might be TA (but I feel like what happened after could earn me back some points)

I was pissed off at the fact that she didn't even ask if I wanted to go or if I was ok with calling out or if I even COULD get someone to cover. She just automatically told me to call out, like I have to listen to her. (I'm over 18. I am an adult) I didn't appreciate that she just decided this for me like I was a child and told her so. This lead to a big fight where I cussed at her and called her a bitch and told her to go fuck herself (not my best moment) and told her to go to this stupid BBQ alone. (I genuinely meant that part about going alone- at least somebody should enjoy it. Also, she's my ride, so I was willing to be stranded with no way of getting anywhere if it would enable her to enjoy her party.)

After I calmed down, I told her I'd be willing to call out if she absolutely insisted. She said no, it was fine and I ended up going to work as usual.

Almost.

About an hour before my shift ends, she shows up AT MY JOB and tells me to ask my manager if I could leave.

No! It doesn't work that way! I work retail. As far as I know, no retail job will let you leave early unless it's an emergency. She worked retail, she knows the drill. So I tell her to think of a legitimate reason why I'd have to leave and I'd tell my lead that. (Luckily I had a lead I was pretty chill with that day and she was like why is your mom here? And when I explained the situation, she was like "yeah I don't really care if you leave, but I need you to make up a legitimate excuse for when [our boss] asks why you left.")

She couldn't think of a reason, and after humiliating me at my job, she left without me noticing and I finished my shift. (It was a very busy and stressful day, even without my mom pulling that shit)

She surprisingly picked me up when my shift was over and we went to the dinner and were able to make it in time and had a nice dinner, so all of her stunts were wholly unnecessary.

She had sent me several long and vicious texts while I was at work that I didn't see until much later in the night. I will quote some of the more vicious ones (text message will have 《》 around them my personal thoughts on the text will be after with *) omitting personal info:

《You are a 26 year old loser [my name] stuck at a dead-end job that you've been doing for almost 5 years. A little bit of a rush shouldn't phase you like it does and you should be able to ask to leave a few minutes early- why can't you?》

*Name-calling is unnecessary and rude. She is constantly putting me down and calling me a loser and insulting my job, like she doesn't also work retail. So it's no wonder why I hesitate to jeopardize my job to please her.

[Context- one of the reasons I couldn't leave, other than the fact that retail Doesn't Work That Way is that I had a huge rush of customers and had to straighten up my department that I was working alone. I was closing and it would be extremely obvious who had left the department a mess and I would get in trouble for it.]

《Who left you with that mess? I overheard them [my leads] talking and they didn't sound like they thought you were being left with anything. They thought you should've handled it and can't do your job if that was a problem.》

*This one really got me and I was VERY glad I didn't see this text while at work, because I probably would've had some kind of meltdown. I honestly do not know how long she's been doing this (probably my whole life) but recently I've been noticing that she keeps trying to plant seeds of doubt and paranoia in me. Mostly by telling me that people are talking about me behind my back and/or judging me. Or telling me that my friends don't actually like me. Another example that I caught recently was her telling me that when I go to retail stores as a customer, she notices other customers and the employees staring at me, judging my hair/outfit/whatever. I immediately thought this was total bullshit, but just in case I was wrong, I paid extra, EXTRA attention to everyone around me when I was out in public to see if anyone was pointing, whispering, looking at me, doing anything to suggest judgement and I honestly did not see a single person even glance at me. I have unnaturally colored hair, so I expected at least one glance, but I got nothing. Side note rant over.*

I'm not going to quote the last text, as it doesn't have any specific quotes that provide any context. She just demanded that if I am not out of work by 5:01 (exactly 1 minute after my shift ends) then she is leaving me stranded and that I need to get my friend to pick me up.

*which....I live in her car. If I hadn't been out on time, I would've been completely stranded at night, with nowhere to go and no way to get there, which as a female, is unbelievably dangerous. It is also incredibly rude to demand that my friend, who doesn't work with me and has his own life, should drop everything and come pick me up and....what? Take me where? I'd probably end up having to stay at his house, which is very rude to basically guilt him into letting me stay at his house for the night*

SO after the dinner, I read all these texts and I was furious and insisted that she apologize to me for 1. Causing a scene at my work 2. All of that nasty shit she said to me in the texts and 3. For blaming me for ruining her plans when even after I went to my shift, we were still able to go to the dinner, so all of the stunts she pulled were entirely unnecessary.

She literally laughed in my face and called me delusional (for...wanting a verbal apology....) and when I doubled down on demanding an apology, she called me a delusional cunt and I still have never received an apology to this day.

What are these acronyms?

[syndrossi]

What I appreciate about Daemon is how he has reined in some of his more violent impulses since becoming a father. He's always been hot-tempered and spent the last ten years at war which understandably would make a man feel more on edge to say the least. Not even taking into account the stress of the kidnapping... So seeing Daemon take his time to collect himself so he doesn't end up lashing out at his children and taking care not to seem threatening (his hurt when he assumed Rhea portrayed him as a villain to his own children? ouch!). I love to see him trying so hard to be a good father to Jon and Rhaegar so that they can trust him and feel sure and secure in his fierce love. I think some people (Alicent probably) would assume he's very stern if not a violent father so seeing those expectations subverted feels very sweet.

Also it's funny how he makes an observation that moving Caraxes to Red Keep would require a softer touch since he has been at war for so long but never thinks that about himself. Doesn't cross his mind that he might be tired and hurt after all the violence he witnessed there. There are of course more important things going on and he's very busy caring for his sons and holding himself together right now. He also doesn't strike me as someone who would spend a lot of time on self reflection. But I think the boys have now definitely picked up on his hurt regarding his brother and the war he fought and will be still forced to fight for him in the Stepstones.

Daemon and his children are very alike in this regard - they will give themselves away to keep their family safe with not a thought to spare for their wellbeing

Yeah, Daemon has two motivations now to keep his temper in check as much as possible. One, so as not to spark that instinctive fear/wariness that Rhaegar shows, and two, to not give his brother any cause to send him away from them. The latter is what we saw at the end of chapter twenty-two, when Daemon body-slammed a Kingsguard into the wall out of frustration and then actually apologized after. They're hard instincts to overcome, especially when born of protectiveness (hearing about things the boys have suffered) or fear (losing the boys).

The one time he doesn't hold back is against actual enemies, aka the sole enemy he was able to kill, the Volantene on the boat, which actually seemed to make Jon feel better. (Though if he ever gave into the impulse to actually torture someone for hurting them, it would really mess with Rhaegar.)

Yeah, on the war vet front, Daemon recognizes that his time in the Stepstones has made him occasionally dangerous to his children (like when they woke him with the blanket and he nearly accidentally killed Rhaegar), but he focuses on his failings, not reflecting that he's tired or in need of rest himself.

But I think the boys have now definitely picked up on his hurt regarding his brother and the war he fought and will be still forced to fight for him in the Stepstones.

You know, it's funny, when I initially read this, I was like "well, technically he wasn't forced to fight for Viserys in the Stepstones, that was his own choice," but then I took a step back and was like: huh, he kind of was? Daemon thinks that the Stepstones is a precursor to additional foreign attacks if they fail to show sufficient strength in fighting it back, and he already gave Viserys the crown for "King of the Narrow Sea." Ultimately, he is fighting for Crown at the very least, and since Viserys wears that crown, for him. (If Aegon II wore that crown, Daemon would do no such thing.) And Viserys chose to let the small council defund the war year after year, a part of him perhaps hoping that Daemon would eventually come back if it became enough of a struggle. Yet that was the very thing that kept Daemon there, the pressure of the entire war collapsing if he wasn't there to provide support on Caraxes.

And he's the one arguing to be sent back there, even though it's the last thing he wants, because it's ultimately the best way to keep the twins safe, to Daemon. With the Crown's full support and a few extra dragons, he might be able to finish in weeks what dragged out over years. When that's done, he might spend some time ruminating on the fact that his brother's willingness to leave them scrounging for forces/supplies for so long took eight years from him.

Daemon and his children are very alike in this regard - they will give themselves away to keep their family safe with not a thought to spare for their wellbeing

They are one another's greatest blessing and curse in that regard. That's the literal conversation Jon and Rhaegar have in chapter seventeen!

Rhaegar to Jon:

“Promise me,” he said, clasping Jon’s arm in a tight grip. “Promise you’ll guard your life as you do mine.”

And Jon flipping the script:

“Do not pretend you have not tried the same.” Rhaegar’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?” “With Crayne, with that—thing.” You would give yourself away, piece by piece, for me.

Daemon is lucky that he hasn't yet had to witness yet how reckless the twins will be not just for one another, but for him. It will be a new level of terrifying for him.

[goldie90]

Because it seems like it needs to be said...

First, this is going to be quite long, so my apologies in advance, but I think it is important to address and explain these things and there is simply no way to make it shorter.

Since over the past week, the same person who has been bad mouthing me since february 2023 (as already mentioned here: Goldie — In relation to this post: I know I've already...), apparently felt the need to dig up things from the past again (including old screenshots which funny enough have never been a secret to begin with), I feel like I might should elaborate a few things.

First things first: As already mentioned before, the whole thing started back in february 2023. At this time me and this person used to be mutuals and although we didn't interact much (just a few asks here and there etc.) the few interactions we had have always been positive.

Now some of you maybe know that around this time a certain pc game named Hogwarts Legacy was released and some people were posting about it, sharing their first impressions of the game, sharing screenshots etc. And for me who has been a fan of the Harry Potter franchise since childhood, those were interesting news - not because I wanted to buy or play said game, I'm not playing video games except for sometimes The Sims when I feel like it, but simply for the nostalgia it gave me. You know, I read the first HP book back when it came out in 1998, I was 8 years old at this time and I didn't like to read, I didn't like it at all. But then I read this book and it changed little me's opinion about books forever because I truly enjoyed it, so of course when the following books of the series came out, I read them as well, just like I watched all the movies (which back then was especially fun because just like everyone my age, I had the benefit of being the same age as the characters). So yeah, I think you can see why seeing the screenshots of the game felt nice and so it happened that I reblogged some of them, simply for the nostalgia. I didn't know back then that the author of HP (Joanne K. Rowling) was (and still is) engaging in very discriminatory behavior towards trans people, as I have never been on twitter (which as I learned later is apparently her number 1 platform to spread her harmful opinions) and I'm also not someone who keeps up to date with celebrity gossip, because that's simply not something I'm interested in.

So I had no idea and because of this I was very surprised and confused when shortly after reblogging the Hogwarts Legacy pictures, I received a very rude ask in which someone was demanding that I tag posts related to this game, claiming that it was "transphobic" and "antisemitic", as well as some insults directed at the author of HP. This ask was on anon, it was not signed in any way, nothing. Therefore I had no idea who sent it. All I knew was that this situation (receiving a rude anon like this) brought back bad memories because only a few months before I had a similar thing happening when an anti sent me an anon ask, demanding a nsfw tag for a slightly suggestive selfship post of mine and how me responding to it back then, resulted in being harassed for 5 days straight by antis. I didn't want something like this to happen again, so instead of answering the ask, I deleted it and made a short info post for my followers in which I asked them to please don't send me asks demanding specific tags for my posts/reblogs, and that if someone doesn't like the content on my blog, they could just unfollow and/or block me.

The next day when I logged into tumblr, I was basically greeted with a bitchy post from said mutual on my dash, complaining about me not answering their ask as well as about the info post I made instead, which was how I even found out that it was them who sent me the ask. Apparently they didn't thought I would see their post since back then, their selfship blog was a sideblog and so while they apparently blocked me on their main after reading my post, they forgot to block me on their sideblog as well and their bitch-post about me showed up on my dash. And now I made a stupid mistake, annoyed by their behavior, the rude ask, the public complaining about me, I reblogged their post and commented it with "Oh okay, now I know who the idiot in my inbox was" That was unnecessary and I shouldn't have done this, but right in this moment I wasn't thinking much of it, especially since I already wasn't in the best state of mind at this time due to other reasons (the situation with the antis mentioned above, a fallout with my best friend, as well as my late grandfather's death of cancer only two months before). Short: I wasn't doing well at all and I guess that's why I simply didn't have the patience for something like this on top of everything else. Of course that's not an excuse, but that's how it was and I won't pretend otherwise.

Either way, this little incident between me and this person would have been nothing more than exactly this - a little incident - if it was up to me. You know, something that might annoys you for a little moment, but then you shrug it off and move on. Little did I know that this was just the beginning of a much bigger issue. This user spent the rest of this day with making multiple bitch posts about me, freaking out way more than what would have been reasonable for this kind of situation and then a few days later they started their slander campaign against me, spreading rumors about me being a "transphobe" and "ableist" (the latter apparently because during our disagreement I said that if they freak out like this because of a picture of a castle and some landscapes, they probably got some bigger issues to work on), which resulted in people harassing and attacking me repeatedly, anons flooding my ask box with insults, calling me a "transphobe", a "terf", a "bitch" a "cunt", telling me I deserve to die, that I should kill myself etc. Let me tell you, it was no fun.

But I gotta be honest, I didn't made it better because since they kept bringing up HP / JK, acting like enjoying the franchise I grew up with was suddenly a crime - all of this without ever showing me any proof of their accusations against the author - I simply decided to react in a spiteful way by purposefully reblogging posts about not only Harry Potter, but also the author, fully convinced that she - the person who created this amazing story - would never engage in the kind of behavior those people were accusing her of. After all it goes against everything she wrote in her books....

So for the next weeks it kept going on like this - for every hate anon I received, I would reblog more posts about her, kinda as a big "F*ck you" towards the people harassing me. Then one day when I reblogged another post from a person expressing their support for JK, it happened that the op started to follow me and after a few interactions I followed back. A couple more interactions and he DM'ed me, started a conversation with me and for the first time since my fallout with my ex friend (more to this later), the thought of someone new trying to become friends with me didn't felt scaring to me. There was something about him I can't quite explain but it made me feel safe and comforted and so me and him became friends rather quickly and although I saw the red flags (they were hard to miss ngl) I ignored them, grateful to finally have someone around on this website again who was nice to me, someone who was there for me through this situation and who protected me, or so he said....

He started to openly attack people who would give me trouble or say something bad about me, which of course only made things worse and I asked him repeatedly not to do this, to just let it be but it always resulted in him either ignoring my words, or agreeing just to go right back to it 1 - 2 days later, always emphasizing that he was just "trying to protect me" which put me in a situation where I felt like I owed him something, so I started to make open excuses for his behavior, backing him up no matter what he said or did and just displaying my loyality to him since I knew that's what he expected from me. During this time, he would also target the ex mutual who had started the rumors that caused the whole mess in the first place a few times and because of the trouble I had to endure thanks to this person in the past, I was more than happy to join in, viewing it as some kind of "payback". I'm not proud of this, yet it happened and I would never deny it.

Things got really bad and of course our behavior only provoked the previous harassment I had to endure to escalate even more and at some point someone even made a whole blog about us, screenshoting our posts etc. This went on until one day my friend decided to write a public apology to the people he attacked during this time, to end this whole mess and make people leave the two of us alone.

From there on things finally improved, we parted ways one month later and another month later my ex friend @moss-selfship who couldn't be more different from him came back into my life and it was also him who, when I asked him about it, showed me actual proof for JK's harmful behavior, which was a very shocking and disappointing thing for me to see and of course, it led to me deleting everything I ever reblogged about her, as I'm not willing to support this woman in any way and I feel stupid and ashamed for ever doing so.😦 I also deleted every interaction with this former friend, as well as every other memory of this time, not to hide anything (as the ex mutual mentioned above was accusing me of lately) but simply because I don't want to have these things on my blog, since they were part of a very bad chapter of my life I don't want to have anything to do with anymore. Yet I never tried to pretend it didn't happen and I never would. The blog which was screenshoting all these things back then does still exist until this day and as you will see here, it was also where this person took the screenshots from when they tried to call me out about these old things a few days ago:

Just like they also decided to bring up the old fight between me and @moss-selfship to make distasteful comments about it, although this is something that's not only between us but also something we fixed and left behind us long ago

(Details can be found here: Goldie — As my friend already said (and as you can see here...)

As you already know, I did apologize to this person months ago, with help from my dear friend @moss-selfship who was the one who reached out to them and back then they promised to them that they would stop messaging people to as they like to call it "warn" them of me, but they didn't. From february 2023 when me and them had this "tag disagreement" until this day they kept slandering me and yes it is slandering since the "Goldie is a transphobe" lie they keep clinging to, has never been true at all. Same goes for the accusation of me being ableist, as well as some other things they said.

I spent the whole past year trying to make up for my previous mistakes and working on myself, trying to be a better person but thanks to this person it never stopped being very hard to just having fun on here and enjoying interactions etc. as they would always keep seeking out people I was interacting with to badmouth me, but you already know this from the post linked at the very top of this post here, so there is no need to elaborate this any further.

The only thing I wanted to make clear here is that:

The things they tried to present as something new, are things that happened long ago.

They have never been a secret to begin with, as the "phantom blog" has always been there, freely accessible for everyone.

I never tried to deny them in any way and I never would.

And this is all I have to say about this matter. If you read till there, thank you for taking the time and again, my apologies for it being so long. If you have any more questions about the things showed here, be it the old screenshots you can find on this blog or anything else, please do not hesitate to DM me and I will happily answer your questions.

Have a nice day.💖

[daengtokki]

Your story is like the first one I’ve been so deeply captivated by when it comes to serial killer shit, like I can’t explain it. Sure I’ve read yandares and silly ghost face skz story’s, but this one made me feel…disgusted? Like I’ve never had a fictional story about skz make me feel so grossed out. I don’t want you to take it as a negative thing, and if you do i apologize 🩷

I’ve read sooooo many fics through three years and I was a little bit skeptical when I first read the “serial killer! Seungmin” but I’m glad I kept reading cause I’m so excited for the next part.

What I meant by the “it grossed me out” part, is the scene where he killed the man? I don’t know why but I dead ass almost threw up, might be cause I’m sick and the only thing I’ve been consuming are medications. But holy fuck dude, I had to step away😭

Also!! I got so, frustrated? And confused? When she DIDNT LEAVE THE COUNTRY!? A MAN JUST KILLED YOU FOR LIKE TWO MINUTES AND YOURE OVER HERE KISSING HIS LIPS AND WHAT NOT.

But I think that’s what makes a story good! The minute a fic I’m reading is making me feel some kind of emotions, better bet I’m reading until the fkn end.

Anyway, pardon my rant, and again I really hope you don’t take it as offensive, but if you do I’d totally get it tbh.

Stay safe and healthy! Lots of love🩷🌺

Sorry I took so long responding, but I really had to gather my thoughts for this one. Apologies for it being so long and for me basically taking an opportunity to unload.

All of the "negative" parts popped out because I was so tired and out of it. And I was like “oh no please don’t hate please don’t hate the story” 😭 ㅋㅋ ㅋ I'm out of it today, too, so hopefully I type this up properly.

But I don’t take your comments negatively! My job as a writer is to make you feel all of the emotions my characters are dealing with.

So thank you for taking the time to write all of this out! Seriously. I'm a little floored anyone (this goes for everyone who has sent a message or left a long comment about the fic) has been reading thoughtfully enough to catch everything l've been putting into the story. We’ll be getting more into readers fucked up head very soon, since you mentioned that!

I’m glad these not so pretty parts have gotten a reaction out of you, because I’ll take that as me writing the scenes well! That’s very important to me as a writer, and as someone who has always taken writing seriously. I love writing simple fanfic that you guys can lose yourself in, because that’s why I picked up ff again after stopping for many years. And because of Seungmin, ofc. But this is also why I was very nervous about posting DEITY even though I’ve been wanting to do serial killer!Seungmin for months now. I knew it couldn’t be simple, but I had no idea it would already be this long halfway through (almost 50k words). After writing the intro and getting into the first part, I decided to just write an entire novel. I already had the plot in my head.

I don’t see many stories like this on tumblr, but I also don’t read much (I’m not exaggerating when I say all of my free time is spent writing) so putting something darker out there that wasn’t just oneshot smut was a little scary. I’m aware that’s what get most of the attention on here (short stuff, ott smut, ~imagines, etc) and why even though I have readers like you, I don’t have much in the way of likes and reblogs. It does get discouraging, but I’m pushed forward when I think about all of you reading each part.

So ANYWAY. Sorry this got so long. Thank you so much for your reblogs and your comments on those reblogs. It’s so important to me and the other writers on tumblr.

And thank you Seungmin for being my muse. I wouldn’t be writing every day again without you making me so delusional.

Again, sorry if this is too much and none of it makes sense. I took too much of one of my meds today and I’m very dizzy and lethargic from it.

[a-man-for-hire-and-his-archives]

Australian & New Zealand Author Showcase No 20 – Luke Arnold

February 9, 2024 by Charlie Cavendish

An idea squeezed into my head in 2023, after seeing so many of the book community gathering at conventions across the US and UK. And once my FOMO subsided, I got to thinking about who might be gathered together if we had similar conventions closer to home. Pending the master planning required to arrange a massive convention, I thought the next best thing might be to run an Australian & New Zealand author showcase. So, I sent out the call, with the only prerequisite for participating being the author had to have been born in either country or currently live there.

Its now 2024 and the Aussie / New Zealand Author Showcase is gathering steam again. Just when I thought it was over even more talent has emerged, at this rate its threatening to become year long event! I will continue to post their individual showcases at regular intervals. So hopefully you will enjoy these interactions with some very talented people. Please be sure to check out their work, sign up to their newsletters and follow them on their social media of choice. I make no apologies for any damage inflicted to your TBR’s!

Showcase No 20 finds me chatting with very talented Luke Arnold. Luke is the award-winning actor from projects such as Black Sails, Glitch and Never Tear Us Apart: The Untold Story of INXS as well as the author of The Fetch Phillips Archives; a series of fantastical detective stories which has third instalments to date.

Do you feel that being an Aussie / Kiwi (or residing there) influences your writing?

Absolutely. I didn’t leave Australia until I was in my twenties so, for better or worse, I was brought up with a distinctly Australian outlook. It’s something that can be easily mischaracterised and also requires some distance to properly understand. Being both a young and old country, we’re still finding ourselves, experiencing growing pains, and struggling with our identity.

At the same time, isolation and an abundance of natural resources means a lot of us are able to benefit from a high quality of life without working as hard as we’d need to in many other places in the world. I think a lot of Aussies know this in their bones, and it makes us nervous of “rocking the boat” for fear that we might lose the advantages we have.

This aversion to change has some embarrassing repercussions on relationships between European Australians and Australia’s First Nations People, as well as our treatment of immigrants and asylum seekers.

We have a different kind of national identity to other western countries like the USA or Britain. We’re still trying to play the underdog – the little colony down under that punches above its weight – but that persona no longer fits us the way it used to. These themes seep into all my work.

Fetch Phillips may have the outward appearance of a classic American hard-boiled hero, but he has an Australian heart. He’s someone who feels separate, a bit ignorant, reticent to become a leader, and happy to defer to those he sees as being older and more experienced. He values being humble and self-effacing, but there is safety in that identity.

It allows him to shirk responsibility and hide in the shadows, even when it should be his moment to step forward. He’s a man who didn’t grow up when he was supposed to and is struggling to come of age too late. I feel like Australia is going through the same thing.

What are some of the challenges being located so far away from the rest of the world, do have any tips for overcoming these?

When I was first trying to get published, I was lucky in that I was already working overseas and had some profile from my acting career. That’s a clear advantage I don’t take lightly. Though I’d always wanted to write, the thing that pushed me to finish my first manuscript was a desire to spend more time at home. My acting career was reaching a point where every job was in a different city, and I wanted to know that I could keep working creatively without needing to get on a plane. There are numerous advantages to being creative in Australia.

One thing that is easily overlooked is that we have more safety nets that some other countries. I really notice this when I’m in the US. It’s terrifying to have no money in America. Of course, cost of living is going up everywhere, but I still think there are more ways to find a balanced life in Australia where you can keep a roof over your head and be creative at the same time. Yes, it’s a smaller market and it can be hard to break out overseas, but if the goal is to live a creative life where you do the thing you love without panicking that someone’s going to kick you out on the street, this is one of the best places in the world to establish yourself.

Personally, I know I couldn’t have survived as a young actor long enough to build my career without the support systems that Australia offers.

3. How do you go about establishing connections in the book community? (any tips / suggestions)

I’m terrible at this. My first two novels came out in 2020 when we were all locked inside, and I’ve only met a handful of other authors in person. So of course, social media is a huge asset.

I mostly rely on creatives I’ve known for a long time. Every couple of weeks, I catch up with an author friend, Steven Lochran, I’ve known since high school, and we read each other’s stuff and discuss what we’re working on. I have a number of other people, some writers some not, who I use as beta readers when they have the time.

Finding your own colleagues that you trust and feel comfortable to share your work with is more important than trying to network your way onto tables with notable people in the industry. If you do good work, then that will happen naturally.

4. Do you have a favourite character to write? And conversely are there any of your characters that are the more of a struggle?

Fetch is fun because he still surprises me. There’s a lot of me in him, and he’s dumb enough that I can stuff my own fears and ideas into his head and have him try and make sense of things. It’s always harder when I have to write someone more intelligent – someone who might have the answers he seeks – because then I need to get ahead of my own pondering and come to some conclusions. Perhaps that’s why everyone is fallible in my world, and even those who seem to have the answers will likely fall to pieces before the end of the story.

5. So aliens finally reveal themselves to us and your work is presented to them as example of what humanity has to offer, what do you hope they will take away from this intergalactic exchange?

I hope they’d see that we’re flawed, confused, vulnerable little things, and yet we keep trying to be better. Individually and collectively. My books are noir in tone, but the point isn’t to say that we’re all broken and corrupt. It’s about celebrating the way we keep trying to be good, even in the face of terrible darkness. Even when we’ve made mistakes that should he unforgivable. Even when the pressure – both without and within – feels like it’s going to crush us. Hopefully, if they’re looking at the state of things right now, it might help them see that we’re not completely lost.

6. Tell us something about yourself that not many people know?

In this relentlessly online world, it’s hard to think of something that isn’t already out there. So I’m trying to think of something obscure. Maybe I’ll share that I play a bit of Beat Saber in VR and I’m determined get to the top of the leader board for Billie Eilish’s Happier Than Ever (normal difficulty). I’m broken the top 100 but I’m gunning for a top ten spot.

What would you say is the best thing about being an author and the worst?

The best thing is that your work is all yours. There are very few creative endeavours out there where you can give so much of your internal world to another person. While our editors and publishers are integral, it’s not the same collaboration as making a film or playing a song with a band. This is all you.

The worst thing is that your work is all yours. You can get feedback and guidance, but it’s only your name on the cover. You must write every word, alone, without anyone encouraging you or sharing the load. Every time I write a book, I’m struck by what a monumental act of faith it is. One word after the other, day after day, for months, hoping that by the end it will be at all interesting to anyone else. Some days I can’t write a text to someone without crumbling under self-doubt, but then I have to find the motivation to pump out a few thousand words of fiction.

And at the end of it all, when someone else enjoys the finished product, they will also be alone, somewhere far away, playing out the story in their own head, and you’ll be completely oblivious to how it’s making them feel. It requires a level of self-belief that is easier to summon some days more than others.

8. Any other Aussie / Kiwi creatives you’d like to give a shout out for? (let’s spread the love)

I’m embarrassed to say that my reading really dropped off over the last year, but if you want some more noir, this time with a sci-fi twist, the 36 Streets by T.R.Napper’s is a fantastic cyberpunk story set in future Vietnam.

And I finally jumped into Maria Lewis’s The Rose Daughter and am bloody loving it.

9. What’s your favourite quote or passage from one of your books?

Shit. The ones I love one day, I cringe at the next. The chapters about Fetch’s love interest, Amari, in The Last Smile in Sunder City still hold a special place for me though. They were the first pieces I felt confident sharing with other people.

There’s a part where Fetch just lists the days they spent together. As the series continues, I have to keep returning to it to make sure that if I allude to an encounter between Fetch and Amari, it’s related to one of the occasions included in that list. It’s simple, and Fetch doesn’t include much emotion or embellishment, but every time I go back to it, that tragic romantic melancholy gets back under my skin.

9. What’s your favourite quote or passage from one of your books?

Shit. The ones I love one day, I cringe at the next. The chapters about Fetch’s love interest, Amari, in The Last Smile in Sunder City still hold a special place for me though. They were the first pieces I felt confident sharing with other people.

There’s a part where Fetch just lists the days they spent together. As the series continues, I have to keep returning to it to make sure that if I allude to an encounter between Fetch and Amari, it’s related to one of the occasions included in that list. It’s simple, and Fetch doesn’t include much emotion or embellishment, but every time I go back to it, that tragic romantic melancholy gets back under my skin.

10. What can you say about your current project or what you are planning next?

The fourth instalment of The Fetch Phillips Archives is in the editing phase, and I’m really excited to get it in people’s hands. I’ve enjoyed the fact that Fetch has not yet lived up to being either a hard-boiled detective or a fantasy hero. His guilt, self-doubt, and insecurity have taken his investigations (and in some cases the plot of the books) off the rails. That was always intentional, and I found that journey interesting to write, but Book 4 is a different beast. Fetch is still a problematic guy, but he’s put himself together enough to tackle his next case with more determination. So, for the first time, we have a more focused narrative revolving around a single string of murders. There are a lot of rewarding moments in this one for readers who were hoping Fetch might eventually catch a break.

But it’s still noir, so don’t except all sunshine and roses. Just a mystery where the main character isn’t getting in his own way quite so much.

Bonus Question:  Lastly Vegemite* yes or no?

Absolutely. Thin layer with plenty of butter. It’s not something I crave when I’m away from home but get me back in the Aussie bush and I’ll be searching for a jar in no time.

* An iconic dark salty spread that (most) Australians slap on toast for breakfast (NB explanation for the rest of the world)

Author Bio:

Luke Arnold was born in Australia and has spent the last decade acting his way around the world, playing iconic roles such as Long John Silver in the Emmy-winning Black Sails, Martin Scarsden in the screen adaptation of Chris Hammer’s Scrublands, and his award-winning turn as Michael Hutchence in the INXS mini-series Never Tear Us Apart. When he isn’t performing, Luke is a screenwriter, director and novelist.

He has published three books in The Fetch Phillips Archives, with the fourth instalment on the way. He performs the audiobooks for all his works, and The Last Smile in Sunder City was nominated for Best Fantasy at the 2021 Audie Awards.

Book/ Series Links

Social Media Links

@longlukearnold on Insta, X, and TikTok

Source: FanFi Addict

[rvllybllply2014]

Hi! Oh please don't worry over how long this took, I'm sorry our replies have gotten so long that it could stretch out like this ;w; I've started a new job btw so I'm afraid I really won't have as much free time to write such long replies as much, so I'm cutting this one a bit short, I hope that's okay! :(

I have to agree we never know what someone is going through or how their feeling, so a proper warning is always for the best! Still very sweet & thoughtful of you :')

Heh now that I think about it, the Brackens might be the only house to consider "dumber than a horse" as an insult to horses! If anyone would know just how smart horses are, it would be them! They could call Blackwood horses dumb though, just because of the Blackwood influence the poor horses have had to suffer XD

Lord & lady Tully are such a cute pair~ I love how he matches her feisty nature perfectly, and insisting she become a strong swimmer too! x3 Aw and I love how realistic their argument feels? Of course they would both react this way! They both have good points & both apologizing later sets the stage for a good marriage between them uwu

Lil bitty Samwell learning from both his grandparents & playing with his cousins is just too precious~ And I love lady Tully calling lord Blackwood out on his poor parenting & the emotional distance he puts between himself & his sons! I kind of wonder how he's react if after a bit too much wine he'd end up leaning against lady Tully, who instead of pushing him away, would hold him & stroke his hair as if he were her own son? Like she does for her daughter & grandsons? With lord Blackwood unknowingly seeking a mother's touch. Only to remember the next morning how lady Tully had held & soothed him like a child?

She's such a good grandmother to Samwell & Willem, and I understand lord Blackwood's insistence on her praying to the old gods, & she's too stubborn to be honest to him about her reason to refuse. Though I do wonder if he would have understood her concerns? Oof that argument is so hard to read, I understand lord Blackwood's hurt, anger, & loss but lying to his sons and burning the letters, not even storing them away..that just horrible D= Poor lady Tully & Samwell, knowing his father hid letters from their grandmother had to hit him terribly, and to have Willen parrot their father's teachings too! At least their Tully cousins questioned them at least!

Amos practicing flattery in front of his mirror is too cute! Along with Raylon's light teasing x3 Aw and speaking of Ser Raylon Rivers, can you imagine a secret relationship between him & Samwell in the background?

Neither of them wishing to burden their brothers with it, and feeling as though they especially can't mention it after their brother's brake up? :< And Willem keeping his blade on him while trying to distance himself from it emotionally is such a good contrast to Amos locking his blade away but keeping the key to it literally next to his heart, never truly parting from it emotionally..

Davos being the one to stake Aeron through the neck, oh my poor babies :'( Imagine if Aeron had lived but still is injured, with Davos fleeing with him and both waiting out the war while Aeron recovers, until they hear of the Blackwood attack on Bracken lands? 

Ooh I love how you wrote Willem finding the blade, how Amos never truly broke the chain connecting him to Willem.. And how the rape doesn't happen right away or all at once, how it gradually builds, and how Willem deludes himself into thinking Amos wants it. That despite his desire to punish him, he doesn't wish to see himself as Amos's rapist.. That threat to have Raylon taken before both houses, that he's already "broken in" is harsh..i totally understand Amos's fury!

Aw having Benjicot sent to Riverrun is a smart idea, though I also like the idea of him coming to Harrenhall to lead the Blackwoods, and while Oscar is tense at first, he soon sees just how much like Samwell Benjicot is? Saying he understands Oscar did what he has to and doing what he can to keep his own house in line? I could see Amos meeting him & seeing so much of Samwell in him ;w;

1A) Heh poor Aeron! I feel like the spanking he gets from Davos would be less sexual and more so an actual punishment, like for when he's genuinely unfair & rude to Davos, or does something stupid & knightly, risking his life for others, Davos wouldn't let that go without making riding too painful for his Bracken for a while, I mean what better punishment is there for his Bracken than that? I imagine he'd rarely need to use anything but his hand (which he prefers, he likes how much more intimate it feels) but occasionally, if he feels it's really needed to teach a lesson, he'll use the thin leather reins from he cut from Aeron's own horse.  He can't bring himself to use a belt but that's fine, the reins are painful enough!  

1B) Ooh I saw you wrote something for  this idea, so I'll comment on it tomorrow~ I did think up another idea involving spanking though. Now this would be a purley parental spanking, but imagine before the battle of the burning mill ever takes place, Raylon Bracken would come to blows with a group of young Blackwood men and get overpowered, being brought back to Raventree Hall by them so he can be ransomed back to his lord father. He's not treated terribly, locked away in a room instead of a cell, but of course that doesn't make him any less angry! And when Willem comes to check on him himself, Raylon in his anger continues mouthing off to Willem despite his warning... And after stomping his foot and throwing something at Willem in anger, Raylon would soon find himself lying over Willem's knees, told if he was going to have a tantrum like a little child, he may as well be punished like one..

Ah sorry this reply was so much shorter than others, there's plenty I didn't comment on, but you summed up all we've discussed perfectly~ Thank you so much for discussing all these ideas with me <3 I'm all ears to hear any you have as well! =)

Congratulations on the new job. And also no worries about reply length or anything like that.

Lord and lady Tully are definitely based on my best friend’s parents.

Also think I hit all your ideas I’m sure, so sorry if I didn’t.

And now I’m definitely thinking about Samwell and Raylon Rivers. They have been added to the list.

Just non descriptive mentions of rape, look at previous ask for the more descriptive parts of the rape and trauma.

Definitely older brackenwood with some davron once again.

Lord Tully insisted that since he had to learn how to ride like a Bracken then his wife needs to learn to swim like a Tully. Yeah the fights are just them not seeing eye to eye and just needing some time to let cooler heads prevail. Once that happens they’ll apologize because they know they both had valid points. They’re also trying to raise their daughter to be level headed.

Lord Tully once asked lady Tully why she felt bad for the Blackwood horses, when they had a tourney in honor of their daughters first name day. She explained that Blackwood horses had to deal with the dumb Blackwoods, that those horses are smarter than their owners. So of course she’s going to feel bad for them. Lord Tully just shakes his head, he just goes along with it.

The one and only time both lady Tully and lord Blackwood allow themselves to seek some form of comfort in each other is in the months leading up to lady Blackwoods death. Lady Tully had just gotten Samwell settled in for the night again, and Willem was already in his bed sound asleep. Both lady Tully and lord Blackwood had too much wine, they’re both six glasses deep when lord Blackwood starts to tear up.

Normally lady Tully would just walk away, while muttering a Blackwood can just be miserable by himself, no need to drag everyone else’s mood down, it’s already sad enough in her daughter’s room. But since she’s already tipsy and already mourning her daughter she figures that lord Blackwood is also mourning his wife. So she does the only thing that she can think to do which is move to the couch, in her daughter’s room and pat the seat next to her.

Lord Blackwood at first thinks that lady Tully is making fun of him, acting like he’s a small child like Samwell or Willem. It’s only when she says that she’s here to offer comfort, as his mother in law and a fellow mourner die he finally sit next to her. She’s the one to lean into lord Blackwoods space while pulling his head towards her shoulder. It’s only after lord Blackwood has settled down on her shoulder, does she start to pet his hair while telling him that it’s okay to already mourn someone that is alive. That although he’s a Blackwood, she’s here for him and her grandsons. She just lets him know that it’s okay to let his emotions out.

He accepts the comfort until Samwell comes in from the nursery telling them that Willem is awake and crying. Lord Blackwood starts to get up until lady Tully tells him she’ll take care of Samwell and Willem, he needs to spend time with his wife. And with that she gives lord Blackwood a kiss on his temple, and grabs Samwell’s hand telling him that they’re going to go take care of Willem.

Willem just had a bad dream, which was an easy enough fix. But Samwell wouldn’t settle down again, he was too worried about his mother and father. He’d never seen his father show any emotion. So lady Tully decides to bring Samwell and Willem into their mother’s room. It’s just a short walk back to the rooms, and when they arrive lord Blackwood questions if everything’s alright?

Lady Tully tells him that his sons need their parents, she also orders lord Blackwood out of the chair that he sitting in so she can sit there. Lord Blackwood starts to protest but she tells him to get in the bed, but to leave space between him and wife so the boys can sleep between them. She’ll tell them bed time stories until they all fall asleep. Once they’re asleep she quietly leaves the room.

It isn’t until the next day that lord Blackwood realizes that he allowed himself to be treated like a child by lady Tully. He’s a little disappointed in himself but he also realizes deep down that he needed someone to take care of him, to validate his feelings while also still being an adult. Surprisingly it’s not lady Tully or Samwell who brings up the night before, it’s Willem that does. He thinks it’s just a strange dream, that he had a nightmare and then his father brought him and his brother to their mother for comfort. It’s Samwell who tells him it wasn’t a dream.

It’s when the boys are at their lessons, that lord Blackwood decides to confront lady Tully about last night. She tells him although he’s just a Blackwood and was never deserving enough for her daughter she can see how much he loves lady Blackwood; he also gave her, her adorable grandsons. Also it’s okay to feel fear and grief for the future, they’re both about to loose someone important but they’ll always be related through the kids.

The funeral happens, the fight also happens, lady Tully keeps her promise to write but lord Blackwood burns them and years pass without Samwell and Willem seeing their grandmother until lord Tully writes to tell them that she’s sick and dying. And how much she’d love to see them one last time. They’re too late, but they do stay for the funeral and do find out about how she really had kept her promise to write. Samwell believes his cousins and concludes that lord Blackwood must’ve burnt them. Willem already so close to his father in appearance and attitude decides that although these are his Tully cousins, they’re obviously lying a Bracken never keeps a promise.

After the funeral Samwell resumes his duties of watching the boundary stones, where he meets little Amos and his half brother Raylon. Raylon was sent to check up on Amos, to make sure that he wasn’t starting a fight with the Blackwoods. So he was absolutely shocked when he saw Amos and Samwell talking. Raylon doesn’t approach them just yet, he wants to see how the little interaction plays out.

It’s only when Amos sees Raylon, does he decide to approach them. Raylon tells Amos it’s time to go back to Stone Hedge, and sends him on his way. Raylon stays back long enough to thank Samwell for being so kind to his brother, he likes to act like a big boy but he’s still just a ten year old child. Samwell says it’s no issue Amos reminds him so much of his younger brother, who’s just come back from the court. Raylon doesn’t ask any questions especially when Amos comes back to ask if he’s ready? Raylon tells to go ahead he’ll catch up he needs to finish this conversation.

Once Amos had left again Raylon asks Samwell his name, and if he can send ravens to him. Samwell agrees he sees Raylon as a friend and also a connection to his grandmother that he just lost. It’s only a few weeks before Samwell and Raylon realize that they might actually like each other, more than just in a friend way. Samwell is actually the first one to broach the subject of how there might be more than friendship between them, if Raylon would allow it? Raylon is surprised but doesn’t disagree, so as their brothers fall into love with each other Raylon and Samwell also fall into love.

Raylon sends raven on Samwells eighteenth name telling him that they need to meet that night. Samwell is sorrow by he doesn’t need to be Raylon just wanted to give him his present in person. Raylon had stolen the idea of gifting his lover a blade from his brother. He’d had the blacksmith make him a dagger with a ravens head as the handle and had a horse etched into the actual blade. That way he’d always be near to protect him. Samwell is touched by the gift and vows to get Raylon something just as special for his name day.

So when it’s Raylons name day Samwell gifts him a blade with a horse head as the handle and a raven etched into the actual blade. But unlike their brothers they continue to send ravens even after they too eventually brake up. Also both men keep their blades on them. They tell themselves it’s to keep tabs on how each house is feeling towards the other, Raylon wants to be able to advise Amos to the best of his abilities. But they also send updates about their personal lives. They each write to the other that they hope their sons can be good friends just like they were. Raylon also congratulates Samwell when he’s married and has his heir Ben.

The letters only stop after Raylon was killed in a freak riding accident, he’d been thrown from his spooked horse and trampled. The very last letter Samwell writes to Raylon is how much he loves him and he’s sorry that everything happened the way it did. He also asks how could Raylon leave him so easily and early? They both still had so much life left, but now it’s just him but he’ll do his best to live for him. He burns the letter hoping that his words will reach Raylon.

Several more years pass and Samwell gets a mysterious illness that takes him before Ben is old enough to run Raven tree hall. Willem takes over as regent and plots his revenge against Amos. According to Willem it was Amos who walked away from him and their future along with his heart, just like Amos’s ancestors walked away from the old gods. He imagined the old gods felt the same type of pain and anger he feels.

So as soon as the dance happens and he hears from Davos that the Brackens have declared for Aegon, he uses it as an excuse to attack the Brackens. He’ll finally have his opportunity to show that he’s never forgiven or forgotten Amos’s betrayal.

Willem is disappointed with Davos when he finds out that he had the chance to kill a Bracken but doesn’t. He orders the Bracken that he spared to be sent to the dungeons and left to rot. Since Davos couldn’t kill him, he’ll keep him alive but barely. He orders that Davos is not allowed down there, he can’t be trusted around that Bracken. Instead Davos is ordered to watch Amos’s son Raylon.

He wants Davos to watch a Bracken get taken multiple times while also knowing that if he misbehaves then his Bracken will also suffer that fate. Davos and Raylon still get friendly, Davos also stops his uncles men from raping Raylon on his birthday. Davos manages to tell Raylon that Aeron is still alive. Raylon is equal parts relieved and horrified. He hopes that he’s not suffering the same fate as him, Davos tells him that he isn’t sure it’s been almost a month since they last saw each other.

Willem is also delusional enough to believe that every cry from Amos is a cry of pleasure. That his begging is a way of calling back to their relationship, and how he’d always cry and plead for Willem to not stop. It’s obvious that Amos wants it even if he doesn’t explicitly ask for it. He’s just trying to play hard to get, especially when it’s in the camp on the way to Harrenhal.

Davos is forced to guard Raylon while on the move to Harrenhal, he tries to get to Aeron but he’s too well guarded. The only time Davos is allowed to see Aeron is at Harrenhal when his uncle Willem is beheaded for what he did in the river lands.

Oscar still orders Raylon and Davos back to Stone Hedge, Davos is still a hostage. Aeron is ordered to stay at Harrenhal, he’s needed to help fight, Davos and Aeron can see each other after the war.

Oscar also sends a raven to Raven tree hall demanding that Ben comes to Harrenhal. He needs Ben not to fight but to show his support towards him. Once Ben arrives at Harrenhal, he tells Oscar that he understands that he did what he needed to do, especially to secure the loyalty of all the other houses. Ben shows nothing but respect towards Oscar, which in turn causes the Blackwoods to show only respect towards him.

The first meeting between Amos and Ben, Amos almost feels like a small child again. Ben reminds Amos so much of Samwell, how he listens and weighs his words/actions before he does anything. Amos knows that house Blackwood will be in capable hands once Ben is old enough to take responsibility. Amos might also hug Ben, offering comfort to him; he’s sorry for his loss of uncle and for his father years earlier.

1A): Davos is more of a punisher when it comes to spanking Aeron. Every time Aeron back talks, trying to prove to Davos that he’s capable of being a knight, it’s over his knee until his ass is red. Davos only uses the reins when Aeron falls off his horse. Aeron was trying to show off to his friends and managed to fall, and ended up scarring Davos half to death he didn’t move for almost a whole minute and he couldn’t cross over to Bracken lands to check on him. Davos tells him this spanking is for his own good, it should teach him not to show off.

2): Raylon knows that he’s being an irrational brat, especially in front of Willem but he’s pissed. It was a stupid mistake on his part, he’d followed his horse into Blackwood lands and ran right into Willem. As soon as Willem realized who had ran into him, he knew he’d get a huge ransom from Amos.

But first Willem needed to get Raylon to stop snorting and stomping his foot and the only way he knows how to is bend him over his knee and spank him. He makes Raylon count to ten, and then evaluates Raylons attitude. If Raylon is still throwing a temper tantrum, then it’s ten more smacks. It will continue until Raylon has learned his lesson.

[ventismacchiato]

Same anon who sent that ask that triggered that avalanche of trolling.

I just wanna say, I'm sorry for being hypocritical when I said you were rude, but I did not mean you were rude by setting boundaries (even tho that was never a topic of debate for us, I'd always respected your boundaries)

I meant rude as in, you used to be very...dry? You could say? when I sent asks but then you'd be super nice to other people who sent asks so I felt like you just had something against me.

My reason for staying anonymous isn't because I'm afraid of confronting you face-to-face, it's because I know that if I were to try and talk to you ab this personally, I'd just get the same response, and if I were to send the ask without being anonymous, the asks clowning on me would be sitting in my inbox rn.

And I get WHY people r clowning on me. I sent an ask on a topic sensitive to me thru anon and my choice of words r similar to that of an emo 14 yr old boy on reddit.

But in my defense, if Kai hasn't been rude to you personally, doesn't mean they might not have been rude to me. And I use rude due to a lack of better words.

Bottom line is: I was hurt by Kai's difference in personality when it came to my asks (which never pressured them about updates btw bc I never rlly followed their smaus much) and I took to anon to try and tell it to them, albeit in a v poor worded manner.

I'm sorry that so many of your fans seemed personally attacked by me expressing my opinion but I'm more sorry that I couldn't just talk to you about this directly.

(also b4 anyone repeats the old insult of "get a job"... I'm already training to become a CA. I have a life outside of Tumblr and I log in very rarely. It may not seem that way because of my previous ask, but Kai isn't on my mind 24/7. I just logged back in after a month and their ask were on my 'following' page and in the spur of the moment, I typed out the ask.

I assure yall I'm very content in life and (in response to one of the asks telling me to shower💀) take very good care of my hygiene (lmao???). Some of the responses I got were VERY hilarious, I'll agree, even I laughed at a few of them.

I know my previous ask gave a lot of people second-hand embarrassment (this one will too probably lmfao I can't win) and this is getting too long so I'll just say: not the intention, just wanted my feelings acknowledged.

Thank you and Goodbye.

This seems like a script to a YouTube apology video lmao.

oh my god…

DRY ≠ RUDE

so are you just upset i didn’t treat you like a friend or?? genuinely don’t understand how me ever being dry is considered rude to you, have you ever considered the asks you sent didnt give me room to respond with more excitement? i receive a lot of asks in a day so i cant always be all !!! to every single one. it’s a little over the top to accuse me of being rude when all i supposedly did was not match the same energy. you said so yourself you weren’t active and i tended to be more excited talking to my regular anons.

i didnt have anything against you, maybe a little now because this is ridiculous, but if someone online replying to you dry causes you that much hurt then maybe this app isn’t for you. we don’t need to talk about this directly because there isn’t anything to talk about.

goodbye!

[inevestigator]

@cuerrvox sent libera me - write a small drabble about why your muse is awake at 2 am.

the room is coloured an eerie blue, light spilling off wisps while outside the fade continues to be night. ( is it only night time because they think it should be? this is the realm of dreams, after all. )

beside her a cigarette burns its way to ash and a coffee sits, steadily losing its steam. much like neve gallus, private eye, who spends her two am waking hours pouring over her latest case. usually.

she always has work to do. the denizens of dock town always need help and right now? the world might even need saving. ( not by her, no, she's not a fancy hero who has stories written about them; she's a second page, one line name drop for anyone who might be paying attention. overlooked. and that's how she likes it. prefers it, actually. )

but tonight is different. returning from the heart of a broken minrathous, with only the items she could carry from her apartment to be saved from further damage.

between the dragon attack, the raiders, the looters, the thieves, the blight and the evanuris themselves - well, there's not much left of the shitty little hole in the wall she called home. there's even less left of her old case files.

she'd scrounged what she could, not for nostalgia's sake, but because there might still be something important in there. ( it's always important, these things always connect. )

including the very thing that plagued her waking and dreaming thoughts tonight. the one cold case she could never put to bed: herself. her past. her losses at the hands of classic minrathous cruelty.

she stares at a small charcoal drawing of a man laughing in a dingy kitchen. a father of two, a man who works hard to provide for him family and still manages to come home in a good enough mood to share a story with his daughters. the artist, a woman who persevered through hardship, who tended and mended to more than just her small family.

neve touches the drawing gently, careful not to smudge it. the stab of loss and longing worming so deep into her chest that it stings.

there's a thousand i miss yous or i'm sorrys that don't help, that she's thought a thousand times before.

she was supposed to be their saviour. a human laetan child born to tevinter soporati? well that was like gold dust in a world where mages ruled. she was a promise unfulfilled. though not for lack of trying.

she'd gone to classes, she'd learned the lessons, the magic, how to pull from the fade, how to create ice in her hands. she'd bought her family a level of respect they would not otherwise have had. and with it, a chance for more. more food, more clothes, more books. more.

and where someone has more, someone always covets it. at least, that's what the law said when they came to investigate the dead bodies. thieves. vandals. probably slaves or liberati. unlikely ever to find the ones who done it. sorry miss.

a pathetic apology and a pathetic attempt at finding the murderers. but more of an attempt than she'd have got if she wasn't a mage. the world was fucked. minrathous was a symptom of a larger problem. but everyone has to start somewhere.

so it started like this, almost two decades ago. three unsolved murders in a dingy kitchen in dock town. an uncaring, unmoving law enforcement. and a young mage learning that if you want something done right you have to do it yourself.

except, she hadn't. the murders were still unsolved. her greatest failure as a detective. simply, the murderer was likely already dead. there had been enough turmoil in minrathous that the odds were in her favour here, most opportunistic criminals didn't survive long enough for it to matter.

oh, but it mattered to her. there was just nothing she could do about it. nothing but sit awake at two am, piecing together saved scraps of evidence and hoping that she might find a new leaf to turn over, a new lead to chase.

the cigarette burns itself out. the coffee quietly goes cold.

she doesn't find answers.

[polarisbibliotheque]

Nemesis (Vergil x Reader) - Chapter 3

Nemesis

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: The Abyss opening is a rare occurrence. In his youth, Vergil wanted to harness its power, but never thought he would meet his greatest adversary along the way. Years later, the Abyss is once again open and that might call for some rather unlikely alliances.

Chapter 1 (Prologue) | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 (you are here!)

Age restriction: 18+ - there’s a lot of blood, violence, cursing and all those things people want to forbid younger audiences of seeing. Also, cosmic horror is a thing here. Procceed with caution.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Deals with trickster entities and death omens :)

Special Thanks and Credits: @furyeclipse is the wonderful creator of a very main character in all this plot, Ovid - the trickster being the reader will be dealing with and who will have many interactions with the crew. Fury helped me to write some of Ovid's key moments, their realm, their appearance and their mannerisms - after all, it was all Fury's creation and I'm just honored to be able to share such a rich character and worldbuilding!

Thank you so so much for allowing me to add your character to Nemesis and for being such a wonderful friend!

You can check Fury's work on their Ao3, which you can find here: FuryEclipse Ao3

Strongly suggest you guys reading Devoid of Purpose, where you can understand Ovid better ;)

Author's Notes: It took me a little while for this one and I do apologize, but my health isn't the best currently. I will have to go through some medical exams in the upcoming weeks and I'll start taking some meds, so I might have some delays/disappearances from writing. But I will ALWAYS come back to post Nemesis!!

This was a very fun chapter to write. I do enjoy Ovid a lot and their interactions with the reader are 10/10 based on knowledge seeking. Get ready for fighting (and annoying) Vergil on the next chapter, though ;)

Chapter 3

The city reeked of blood and destruction.

After so many years from your city’s incident, you never expected your memories to feel so alive. But there they were, haunting every corner of a new disaster – ghosts of a past you longed to forget, back to cling to your slivers of sanity like demons burying their claws in human flesh.

That city had fallen into chaos. People were crying, screaming, running around in despair looking for solace – for something or someone to save them from whatever the Abyss had attracted.

They first looked at you with hope and admiration – only to change to fear and horror when they realized that, even if your victims were demons, you were a killer after all.

And a very skilled one. Behind your footsteps, no demons were allowed. To fall into your protection meant to be safe; to find salvation amidst all that hell. Even if people feared you and your bloodstained hands, they were grateful for being their only hope of survival.

“Is everyone out of the city already?” You cleaned the blood that spilled on your face while walking towards the captain of the city’s guard, in charge of the evacuation.

Even the soldiers looked at you with a certain unease in their eyes. No one would want to get into a fight against you.

“The last two safe buses are just ready to go.” The captain, though, was the only one able to look into your eyes without hesitation. He could use a soldier like you. “Next one is for me, my crew, and you, y/n.”

“Thank you, but I’m not going with you.”

Your comment sent a wave of whispers among the soldiers. Before the captain could answer, you explained yourself.

“The Abyss is far more dangerous than we know. Someone has to stay behind and make sure it’s going to close without anything going in or coming out.”

Of course, you’d never say it was the only place you would certainly find the blue coated devil who almost killed you back in your city. You were certain he would be there but, so far, no blue demons crossed your view.

And you were especially aware of it.

“Well. You have a good point there. Just make sure to come back alive, alright?”

“Will do. I have to help a friend with laundry next week.”

No one understood your comment, but they also wouldn’t ask. You swinged your silver blade to get it rid of the blood and paced back into the city.

It was time to meet an old enemy.

*

As your steps echoed through the streets of the abandoned city, you had this uncomfortable feeling at the base of your stomach. It seemed like eyes were fixed on the back of your head and hands rested heavily on your shoulders.

But no one walked those streets except you.

Keeping your silver sword in hand, you didn’t stray from your path. The Abyss was close: you had learned to discern between how demons and the Abyss felt like as you started working as a devil hunter. While demons were certainly unnerving, the Abyss had something of… Uncertain. A sense of unknown – and the knowledge of what that was could be worse than fatal; probably better left in the realms of shadows.

But there was a… Third energy. Something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint its origin. It was unnerving, yes, but it felt… Old. Older than whatever demons you could’ve met.

Your steps approached an ancient building – probably a public school; you couldn’t exactly tell what it was. And you would’ve remained focused on your main objective if you hadn’t glimpsed inside the building.

A pair of eyes observed you from the shadows. It stared at you before disappearing deeper into the darkness, but you could swear those eyes were yours.

“What gives…?” You murmured to yourself, barely feeling your feet unconsciously following those eyes, as you crossed the derelict entrance.

You should be going towards the Abyss. That was the reason why you were there, it was the main purpose of you being hired that day. But… How come you saw a being with your eyes inside that building? As you entered the main hall, you found nothing but a reception desk and paper tossed around, ripped and burnt as people fled. Observing into the darkness, that place was a library.

Infinite rows of old mahogany seemed to go deep inside the shadows – until your eyes could barely make out any shapes. It was all probably in your head: dealing with demons made one prone to hallucinations, sooner or later.

As you prepared your feet to leave, you heard a scratchy metallic noise – faint, in the distance, but still there. Turning around, you stared into the shadow and you could swear your eyes picked up something moving.

You couldn’t tell what it was – if it was a demon, a creature or a human. But it was someone. If it was a human, it needed your help. If it was a demon, it deserved to die.

You decided to let your steps follow the sound.

Upon entering the rows of destroyed bookcases and rotting books, you kept on following that light metallic noise – like gentle knifes scratching at the floor, wood or any surface it could touch. Your eyes caught glimpses of a shadow, but never its full form. You turned your head around, your feet followed with precision – your curiosity leading you further and further into the labyrinth of old pages and decaying wood.

When you reached what it seemed to be the center – a round open space, surrounded by aisles and aisles of mahogany bookcases – your white rabbit seemed to have disappeared. There was no other indication of which path you should follow to find it, and you couldn’t deny you were certainly lost inside the library.

Your steps circled the room, slowly, trying to find your way out or the creature leading you further inside. Perhaps… Perhaps it was him. The devil who defeated you that fateful day, the one you longed to rematch. Maybe it was his way of leading you into a trap – and, if it was, you would be ready. Holding your silver sword with certainty, you wouldn’t be caught by surprise.

That library certainly looked like a proper place to defeat him and hold your sword to his neck, while one of your feet held his chest down on the floor, keeping him in his place. No demon was superior to a human, and you would prove him that.

The metallic tapping brought you back from your thoughts, dissipating the image of you finally subduing the blue coated demon. Turning around, you found your eyes again at the end of a long, dark aisle. With resolute steps, you plunged into the darkness, without flinching or thinking twice.

The eyes disappeared as soon as you started to follow them – but, upon reaching the end of the aisle, you found a great wooden door with an old plaque by its side. Cleaning the dust to see it better, you read what it was: “Forbidden Session – Entry allowed only upon authorization”.

Indeed, the door had an old black iron lock, probably requiring an iron key to enter. You tried to force it open a few times, but it was to no avail. With a deep, slightly frustrated sigh, you turned around to look for a way to open it – but your search wasn’t needed: as soon as you rotated on your feet, you found a great, heavy iron key waiting for you in one of the shelves filled with dust.

It didn’t escape your eyes the key was clean despite how abandoned the place looked.

Without questioning, you took it on your hands and finally opened the heavy door. Its hinges complained as you pushed it open and your steps entered the room.

Your heart slightly jumped inside your chest for a couple of quick seconds. It seemed like your eyes got used to the darkness, but soon you realized that session of the library was lit in a procession of warm candles that seemed to never really burn out. The door behind you was closed, and the reception desk had an old, heavy guestbook ominously waiting for you between two candles lit with purple flames.

You didn’t let go of your weapons. Strengthening your grip around the silver, you walked over the guestbook – finally noticing your steps weren’t the only sound to be heard: a faint, albeit calm, piano song filled the air. You didn’t know where it came from, but it was weirdly… Soothing.

“Traveler from afar, if you wish to drink upon the knowledge of forbidden and forgotten books, you must let go of your protections and sign your name. Only then, the library will welcome you among its pages and endless words. Beware, though, not to get lost in other worlds: some writings are tricky and the search for knowledge might claim your soul.”

Those were the words written on a blank, old page of the book waiting for you at the reception. Let go of protections and sign your name. Both conditions were tricky and asked too much of you: the protections were your weapons, and your name could be used in ancient spells for many purposes. The book asked you to be completely vulnerable and you weren’t comfortable with that.

“Hmmm…” You wiggled your nose while thinking, murmuring to yourself. That presence remained around you, but there was no reason to believe someone was really watching you. And, if there was indeed a being following you, they could at least try to answer any questions. “I wonder if this place has information about the Abyss…”

As you muttered, something seemed to fall in the inner part of the round reception desk. There was no one to receive you, so you took the liberty to inspect what made that noise. You found another book on the floor – this time bigger, older, and seemingly infinite: clearly a product of magic. There were no doubts you had crossed into another realm and, even if you didn’t know how to go back, your curiosity was bigger than your fear.

Taking the leather cover into your hands, you leaned the book in one of your arms, opening it with your free hand. Your eyebrows raised in delight as you realized you were staring into a library Index: all books and their subjects were noted down in beautifully crafted calligraphy, with a note on their location inside the library.

You turned page after page in what it seemed like an endless passing of time – as if Time itself didn’t exist in that wonderful realm of books and knowledge you had found yourself into. That presence seemed to keep watching you; intently, carefully… Curiously. As curious as your eyes running on the pages searching for more knowledge on the Abyss.

“Aha…” You finally found what you were looking for. The Abyss and other Ancient Realms – that was the only title on that theme. It was in the Restricted Session, and that could only indicate you would have a price to pay for that knowledge. “Alright. Let’s find the Restricted Session then.”

As you murmured those words, a path of purple flames lit the way to said Restricted Session. You wouldn’t have to worry about becoming trapped or never finding your way back: the library would show where the knowledge you needed was – your will would have to bring you back.

With a deep breath, you let go of your silver sword, leaning it on the reception desk. You placed your guns by the side of the guestbook, taking an inking pen and, after dipping it in the deep purple ink, you signed your name in the old, yellowish pages.

You were completely vulnerable, but you could use your arcane knowledge to your advantage. You had tested it before in several situations: the blood spell you did on your silver sword was very efficient in bringing it back to you in dire need. The blood inside it felt the calling of the blood in your veins, it didn’t matter the distance. It could take some time, but your trusted sword would be there to protect you – and that gave you some peace of mind.

The Restricted Session was less ominous than you thought it would look like. Behind the black iron bars of the gate that kept curious hands at bay, lied an obsidian box that could keep just one book inside, framed by the light of many sparkling purple candleflames.

“You who search the oldest of secrets must leave something in return.”

An old, golden altar stood beside the bars of the Restricted Session, keeping you between the knowledge of the Abyss. It was at your hand’s reach, so close and yet, so far away. You wanted it with your whole heart, but that altar was a warning and a deal: you had to sacrifice something if you wanted to learn something new.

No small offering would be enough for that book – no, it had to be a big one. Something beloved, something cherished. Something your heart would break to part.

Your guardian angel’s deep blue shawl.

You touched the soft fabric, your heart jumping inside your chest. Of everything you were willing to part of, that was your most prized belonging. It was the only thing that reminded you of some protection, of some gentleness. You didn’t want to let go – you wanted to keep the memory of your guardian angel close to your heart forever.

But you could never attain the knowledge you needed without making sacrifices.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep and slow breath. It was stupid to cry over a piece of fabric, so you wouldn’t – even if your heart wanted to weep. Unwrapping it from your neck, you once again opened your eyes, carefully placing your beloved shawl in the ancient golden altar. The purple flames reflected a beautiful dance in the only memory you had of your guardian angel… Of you being cared for and remembered, at least by someone.

With your heart sinking in your chest, a heavy click opened the gates of the Restricted Session, allowing you to go in.

The obsidian box was open, revealing a big, ominous book with a deep blue leather cover. The Abyss and Other Ancient Realms – the letters were in silver, slowly fading with time, but beautifully crafted inside a gothic frame of vines. You took it into your hands, the weight almost heavier than your sword. It shouldn’t be, but some books held more knowledge than others. Some enchanted books, with infinite pages, impossible to run out of space in its binding.

You left the Restricted Session, looking over your shoulders one last time to catch a glimpse of your cherished blue shawl. It seemed like leaving a piece of your heart behind, but you took a deep breath and kept on your path back to the reception desk – you wouldn’t cry, at least not with your eyes, and you wouldn’t turn back once more either.

What was done was done. You had made your choice, and you wouldn’t go back.

As you approached the reception desk once more, though, a dark figured towered around it – and the eyes. It had your eyes.

It looked like a Eurasian Eagle-Owl, feathers in deep purple and black, glistening with the trembling candle flames. Its chest carried a blood red glow, faintly able to see under its jet-black wings. It stood tall, far taller than you, smart eyes mimicking yours as it followed your every move with interest and mischievous curiosity. Only when your careful steps got close enough you were able to see it had two sets of wings – one close to its body, another resembling the mannerisms of human arms.

You had your eyes in it – carefully drinking its every move. You didn’t know if it was friend or foe; if it tried to attack you, your sword, peacefully laying behind it, would have to make its way to your hand.

“If you’re looking for that white rabbit, he’s not here.” Its voice reverberated through walls and the floor, catching your ears and your heart. You’d say it was a demon, but something about its energy was… Different. Ancient. “But I sense that you seek a knowledge that is worth pursuing to the darkest depth of the Underworld to find it.” As it finished speaking, a small laugh followed the words, clearly enjoying your curiosity that led you to that realm. “How will curious little Alice accomplish such a dangerous feat?”

“With courage. You have to be curious in order to be brave.” Your answer was certain albeit careful. Never before you had encountered a demon that resembled the creature standing before you – and the Codex Daemonica had no information about that. “I wonder. If I was led here but there’s no white rabbit to be seen, who am I talking to? The Cheshire Cat?”

Once again, that laugh reverberated through your chest, while its feathers shook with delight. Of all creatures you had met, that was the first who made you unsure. As far as your knowledge went, you could be talking to a trickster, like the ancient Norse deity, Loki.

“Alice should know better that names are not to be given so lightly.”

You just stared back into your own eyes, a small unsatisfied smile coloring your lips. You had signed your name; you had given it already. But words have power, especially the ones voiced by one’s own lips. If you wanted its name, you had to give yours – you had to voice it so it could voice its own. An eye for an eye, a hand for a hand, a name for a name.

“Y/n. My name is y/n, as I signed in the guestbook already.” You said after a deep breath. You could be making a huge mistake, but the book in your arms was worth whatever price. You had already left your guardian angel’s shawl – there was no going back now.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, little Alice.” The creature bowed its head slightly, making you mirror its chivalry. “You can call me Ovid, master of this realm.”

“You certainly have a wonderful library, Ovid.” You couldn’t keep secret the fact that you had a Restricted Session book in your arms: Ovid probably knew what you had given up for it already and you had every intention to check that book out. For good or for bad. “With knowledge that even the best arcane libraries in the human realm only dream of.”

“Indeed, y/n, indeed… How far would you go fur such knowledge, little Alice?”

“As far as necessary, dear Cheshire Cat.”

Its eyes reflected the same fire that burned in yours – but you didn’t look down. You had already met that stare before: years ago, when fighting the blue coated devil, it was that sort of glance that commanded you to give up and made you only ignore it and remain stronger in your own will.

It was rare for Ovid meeting such a strong-willed human. A journey alongside you could be quite interesting, after all.

“I see you have already accessed the Restricted Session…” Ovid murmured back, glancing quickly at the book in your hands. “To check out such knowledge, in the other hand, there are a few conditions.”

“As I said before, I’m willing to go as far as necessary. I already gave up something dear to me.” It was rare for you to put yourself in such a vulnerable position, but there you were. That book was worth much more than you could ever dream of and, if you needed to, you would fight that creature for it – even if you didn’t know what it was.

“And you can read it in my realm whenever you see fit, as long as your offering remains in the altar.” Once again, it bowed its head slightly, only to turn those bright, cunning eyes back to you right after. “But in order to return constantly, I shall need something in return.”

You smiled. There was always a catch. That’s how it was when dealing with demons.

“What is it?”

“For which purpose does little Alice needs such a book so desperately…?” You could hear it in its voice: they knew you had a goal, that you needed that book not only for curiosity, but for something else.

You had to be honest and vulnerable – something you avoided with all your strength. There were no cards left up your sleeve and the only thing you had in your advantage was that you could summon your silver sword at any moment – unless Ovid had sensed that spell already.

“There are no books in the human realm with knowledge on the Abyss. Whatever it is, I need to know more about it to keep it from destroying entire cities like it did to mine.” You took a deep breath, never lowering your eyes from Ovid’s cunning stare. “I will write a Codex Abyssae, just like there is a Codex Daemonica, so other hunters may be able to protect other people. This…” You looked down at the book in your arms, furrowing your brows. “This is the best source I found to this day. I can’t let it go.”

As your eyes went back to Ovid’s, you could swear it was smiling – after all, you knew how your eyes looked when you were doing so.

“Well, well, little Alice…” There was a tinge of delight in its voice, and you couldn’t refrain your heart from being wary. “It seems that the Fates brought our paths together, then. This book can only be read on my realm, however you might be able to come and go as you please for your research as long as you keep its information updated.” Those eyes, your eyes, glinted with a smart burst of energy of something that hadn’t had that much fun in centuries. “You see, my collection, sometimes, gets obsolete. Inside this book, you will find everything you need to know on the Abyss, but I’m afraid there is so much more yet to be discovered. It will be an honor harboring a copy of your Codex Abyssae along my many pages and oceans of words.”

One of their wings pointed back at the book. As you observed the cover, The Abyss and other ancient realms title disappeared, only to give room to the carefully crafted, gothic silver words of Codex Abyssae.

That was your book. That was your research. If you accepted it, all that knowledge, all that power would be yours – and you would get to update it, as well as write your own version for the human realm. It was really a lot more than you could have wished for, even if it bounded you to that creature you knew so little about.

“What happens when I am done?”

“You cannot return.” Ovid’s voice was calm, acting as if it was just another day in their eternity. Their eyes, though, glinted with delight. “The Codex will return to its safety in the Restricted Session. Your shawl will be returned. You will have your knowledge, and I will have mine. Our deal will be over.”

Of course, it was a deal. Something like that always had a price.

And you were willing to pay it.

“How do I access the library to read the Codex when I need to?”

“You can always summon me with one of my feathers, dear Alice.”

It seemed like you hadn’t noticed it before, but right by the guest book, there was a golden dish with a silky, long black feather in it. Like you imagined before, you would be bound to that creature to a certain extent, as long as you kept your part of the bargain. They would give you knowledge if you delivered knowledge in return.

It was a small price to pay, in your point of view.

“Well, then. You have yourself a deal, Cheshire.” You took a deep breath, declaring your will out loud. “I will keep the Codex Abyssae updated as long as I can come and go from the library and read it for my research, Ovid. Deal.”

That laugh reverberated through the library once more as you reached for the feather. You could finally leave the Codex on the reception desk, knowing you could come back any time and spend hours and hours reading it to your heart’s desire.

“I have to finish the job I was hired to do, but when I want to come back…”

“I will be there to guide you into my realm, little Alice.” Ovid made a small signal with their head, making you slightly bow in return.

“Thank you for allowing me to have access to your library, Ovid.”

“Thank you, little Alice, for giving me such knowledge to build upon, but do be careful on the road ahead.” Their warning caught you off guard, making you stop as you were ready to get your weapons once more. “You have been close to death once before, I can see that.” As those words filled your mind, you furrowed your brows. “Before you go, I shall give you a piece of advice to mull over. The next time you end up on death’s doorstep, it will take you without hesitation. So, live a fruitful and fulfilling human life, with the time you’ve got left. Death does not give second chances lightly.”

That warning placed a heavy weight on your heart, taking your breath away for a few seconds. You had defied death once but, as it seemed, you wouldn’t be able to do it twice.

With so much left to do, you kept that warning in a place you could think about later. You struck a deal. It was done. You couldn’t turn back now.

*

As soon as your feet left the door that got you inside the library, you found yourself back into the derelict building that led you there. You glanced back, hoping to see the purple flames and the reception desk once more – now with your weapons back to your grip and the feel of your trusted sword hilt calming your heart – but you only found an old empty room, with books and paper scattered all over the dusty floor.

You were back – and it all seemed like a lifelong dream. You would consider it all to have been just your imagination, if Ovid’s feather didn’t weight inside your coat’s pocket. Checking once more, your fingers found the silky touch of the feather and you knew; it was all true. You had struck a deal with a trickster, maybe a demon, maybe something older – you weren’t sure. But you had done it for a knowledge and a power the strongest demons could only dream of.

Your steps quickly led you back to the round hall surrounded by the labyrinth of mahogany aisles, lit only by a sheer light that entered through the cracks in the walls. Soon, you would find your steps away from that building, back to your job, to make sure the Abyss would close, and nothing would be able to go in – or get out.

“This time, I will not allow you to go any further… Little human.”

That voice. It was his voice. You were certain of it.

Turning around, you smiled as you saw a very well-known silhouette lit only by the stray rays of light, framing his shoulders and his conceited head held high in the air – the sword on his hand, ready to attack; the smirk framing his arrogance… His eyes, defying yours with a fire burning in silver. The blue coat gracing him as a frame.

You smirked back, holding your head high and staring back with your burning eyes.

“Long time no see… Demon.”

**

To be continued...

[unreadpoppy]

song as old as rhyme - chapter 15

{Beauty and the Beast AU - Raphael x OC (Elize)}

chapter 14

Read on AO3

A/N: this might be a good moment to tell y’all i can’t visualize things in my head, soooo for my sake, you'll have to imagine what Mizora's place looks like (also, just pretend she has like a idk, mansion in Faerun). Also, I apologize if some of the dancing makes no sense, descriptions are hard.

Warnings: Mentions of violence

Taglist: @littlemoondarling

@desenhosdebolso

@shyminnie07

@lemonandhoneytea

“Ah, Raphael, how nice of you to have made it here. And quite on time, as well.” A blue woman, with fiery red hair, four horns and wings, spoke. She had a golden adornment on her head and her garment left little to the imagination. 

The she-devil turned her attention towards Elize, eyeing the human up and down. “And you must be Raphael’s newest pet, Elize.” She said, with a smirk. “I am your hostess, Mizora.” 

Elize chose to ignore the ‘pet’ part and asked “You know who I am?”

“But of course! Words spread like wildfire in the Hells.” She giggled. “It was a matter of time until everyone heard about Raphael’s new apple of his eye.” Mizora took one free strand from Elize’s hair, looking at the cambion. “I can see why you chose her.” 

Raphael’s jaw tightened and his chest puffed. “Careful, Mizora.” He said as he eyed her down, taking a step towards her. It was then that Elize noticed how much taller and bigger than the other devil he was. “You might be the host, but you still ought to know your place.” 

Mizora huffed. “You are no fun.” She took a step back, addressing both of them. “I’ll leave you to enjoy yourselves.” She grabbed a drink from a nearby servant and walked away. 

Elize, who had let go of Raphael’s arm, turned towards him. “You look…furious.” His face was contorted, his nose scrunched. She even swore she saw his eye twitch. 

“Mizora always has a special way of getting on my nerves.” Raphael looked at Elize, and his face softened just slightly. “Come. Let us talk with the other guests.” He ushered her forward, placing one hand on her back. It was the first time Elize noticed how big his hands were, with how much space on her back they covered. 

Elize and Raphael greeted and briefly spoke to many different fiends. Although most were decent, there were a few that made inappropriate comments (mirroring much of Mizora’s own) or looked at Elize’s bosom for too long, prompting Raphael to tighten his hold on Elize. 

After a particular demon made a very rude comment, Raphael excused himself, allowing Elize to have a moment alone. She walked towards a balcony and gasped when she saw the sky. 

For the past few months, all she had seen beyond the windows of the House of Hope were the hells. When the pair arrived, she had been quick to notice that Mizora’s home lacked the typical scent of Avernus. Now, seeing the moon and the stars shine, Elize felt her eyes watering, and a tear falling down. 

She was so entranced that she failed to notice the figure beside her, until a voice spoke. “My lady, why do you cry?”

…

Meanwhile, in a distant room, Raphael had cornered a demon. 

The foul creature had stared at Elize’s chest for too long and that had struck a chord with the cambion. He never considered himself to be a particularly righteous man, but it felt wrong to see Elize disrespected like that. 

At least, that was what he was trying to convince himself of, as he beat the demon up. 

Deep down, Raphael knew, he was jealous. He felt possessive of her, especially after the events of the last few weeks, and to see someone eyeing her, as if she were an object - that, Raphael wouldn’t tolerate. He already had to deal with Mizora’s insinuation earlier, but enough was enough. 

‘She is mine.’ He thought, as he sent the demon back to the hell they came from. He straightened his clothes and with a snap of his fingers, the mess was removed from him. Taking a deep breathe, Raphael made his way back to the event. 

 …

Elize jumped slightly at hearing the voice, but then calmed down. The voice belonged to a dark skinned man, with black braided hair, and eyes of different colors. Due to the two horns sprouting from her head, she believed he must be some type of tiefling, even if he lacked a tail. 

“Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” She gave him a small smile. 

 “I apologize.” He gave her a slight bow. “I am Wyll Ravengard, the Blade of the Frontiers.” 

“Elize.” She replied. “Pleasure to meet you.”

He smiled. “The pleasure is all mine. But you have not answered my question: what made you cry?”

“Oh, it’s just… I haven’t seen the night sky in a long time.” When he made a face of confusion, she clarified. “I made a deal with a devil and I have been living in Avernus ever since.” Realizing what she just said, Elize followed with “But please, it is not as bad as it seems. It’s quite nice, actually.” 

Wyll raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest. “If you say so, I believe you.” He said. “But should you ever need help, don’t be afraid to call for help.” 

Before he could continue, or Elize could reply, a voice spoke from behind him. “She will do no such thing.” Raphael loomed behind him. “Wyll Ravengard.” The cambion said in a sinister tone. “I see Mizora still has you on a tight leash.” 

Wyll turned to face him. “Raphael.” He replied in the same tone. “I see you recovered from the beating we gave you. Maybe I should call Tav over and we can have a rematch.”

“You contemptuous creature, I´ll-”

“Master!” Elize said, interrupting Raphael, who seemed he was about to burst into flames. She took a step forwards, coming in between the two men. When Raphael looked as if he was about to smite Wyll then and there, Elize put a hand on his chest, getting on her tiptoes to whisper “Look, the dancing is about to begin.” Head motioning to the couples making their way to the dance floor. 

Raphael looked down at her, jaw still tightened. “Come on, let’s join them.” She said, adjusting a strand of his hair that was out of place. ‘Strange’ she thought ‘his hair was perfectly combed when we left’. 

Finally, he took a deep breath and took a step back, placing his hand forward. Elize sighed and took it, allowing him to lead them to the only spot available in between the other couples, the very center of the ballroom. 

They took position and began dancing. Raphael was stiff from anger, and he kept looking around the room, which prompted Elize to say “Ignore them. Focus on me.” 

He closed his eyes momentarily and opened them again, to Elize giving him a small smile. “I apologize. My mind seems to be elsewhere.” 

“It happens.” She replied. At this point in the song, he lifted her upwards, and she held onto his biceps. “Thankfully, you have a very good dance partner to keep you grounded.” Elize said smirking, as he put her down. 

Raphael chuckled. “I believe mere hours ago, I was the one who kept you grounded during the steps.” He felt his anger begging to dissipate, the conversation making the room lighter.

“Ah yes, but that was long ago.” Elize replied. “But do tell me, how am I fairing now?” 

At that moment, they had gotten to a moment in the dance where Raphael was behind her, holding her hands in a way that her arms were crossed in front of her. As he pulled her close, he whispered the answer in her ear. “You are splendid, my dear.” He eyed her neck, fighting the urge to claim it. 

Elize felt a shiver go down her spine as he said that. Eventually, they faced each other again, looking into each other's eyes. 

Although she preferred his warm brown human eyes, she still felt as if she could lose herself into the abyss that were Raphael’s devilish eyes. His sclera was black and his irises were of a burning orange circle. As Elize stared into them, she felt as if everyone else faded away, and only the two of them existed in the room. 

Raphael, on the other hand, felt a sense of calmness when he looked into Elize’s green eyes. They made him think of a nice spring day, the type of day that invites you to go outside and feel alive. Elize’s eyes were painfully human and he was fond of them. For a moment, he allowed his gaze to lower towards her pink lips and he couldn’t help but wonder if they were as soft as they looked.

As the dance got closer to the end, Raphael whispered. “Elize, forgive me, but I believe I must steal something of yours.” 

She frowned. “What is it?” 

“A kiss.” Raphael pulled her even closer and kissed her on the mouth. Elize was taken by surprise at first, but then melted under the kiss, enjoying the feeling of his lips on hers, snaking her arms around his neck and back. 

Raphael’s hands made their way towards her back, to support her weight as he dipped her, finally letting go of her mouth. As they held the position they had practiced earlier, they once again looked at each other, the same feeling passing through both of them. 

When he pulled her close, she whispered “I think we should go somewhere more private.” He smirked and snapped his fingers.