#Nemo writes

[nemo-in-wonderland]

I'll swim and sail on savage seas With ne're a fear of drowning And gladly ride the waves of life If you will marry me No scorching sun nor freezing cold Will stop me on my journey If you will promise me your heart And love me for enternity My dearest one, my darling dear Your mighty words astound me But I've no need of mighty deeds When I feel your arms around me But I would bring you rings of gold I'd even sing you poetry And I would keep you from all harm If you would stay beside me I have no use for rings of gold I care not for your poetry I only want your hand to hold I only want you near me To love to kiss to sweetly hold For the dancing and the dreaming Through all the sorrows and delights I'll keep your love beside me I'll swim and sail on savage seas With ne're a fear of drowning And gladly ride the waves of life If you will marry me If you will marry me

"FOR THE DANCING AND THE DREAMING"- cover by Peter Hollens

AND I AM FINALLY DONE, OMG.

And I am actually so happy with how it turned out! In the end, I decided to go with an appearance that made it look as if Hiraeth and Gale were part of one of Gale's book (I can honestly imagine him doing something like this and just immortalizing a moment together and keep it in his book for keepsake).

What more to say aside that these two cinnamon rolls ABSOLUTELY deserve each other????

Also, fun fact about Hiraeth´s appearance: she usually wears a glamour to hide away her scales, but with Gale, she can definitely let her guard down and show them to him.

I like to imagine that this moment portrayed here happened after Hiraeth was finally free from her pact with her Patron, Titania, after absolving her duty to her and Damh (I will explain more once I manage to write her profile, which will come soon alongside Asra's) and she is *finally* free to just be Hiraeth.

So, OF COURSE, she is celebrating in the arms of the man she loves the most! <3

Well, I hope you will like this <3

--Nemo

[mighty-wings-over-danger-zone]

When I saw this part in game, I couldn't help but imagine an entire different situation, but with Ghost having the same look in his eyes.

Dark.

Intense.

Focused.

They eyes of someone that sees everything and knows everything that goes around him, at every single moment, constantly scanning their surrounding as if to look for some hidden threats that could disrupt the momentary peace he found in your company.

And I couldn't help but imagine that those eyes are actually looking at you, the one that got his whole heart into shamble but who has not even realized it yet.

He wants to get closer to you, to hear your delighted laughter ringing in his ears: a sound so beautiful, it helped him ram through some of the shit he had to do while on the battlefield.

He wants to make his move, to close the distance between you two.

You raise your eyes and meet his gaze, just for a second, a single moment crystalized in time: and finally - finally - you see it.

You see it clear as day: the scorching flame of pure desire in those dark unfathomable eyes that never showed anything but an abyss to the rest of the world; eyes that always seemed to follow you, wherever you were not close to him.

He wants to reach out to you, but showing you that glimpes of the flame that is burning him from within is all that he dares to reveal, even to you.

But there are some doors that cannot be closed, once opened.

And Simon Riley has decided to open them for you.

[house-of-hamartia]

WEDNESDAY WIP

(this is an old wip that I wrote in 2021. It takes place in a Modern AU with Dorothea as the heiress to the Starrick Criminal Empire and Shay as her bodyguard (and secretly the killer hired by a rival family to kill her). It was purely self-indulgent smutty smut on my part. lolol)

-------------------------------

(….)

"Sorry to be the harbinger of bad news, Poppet, but this is the last room available,"

Dorothea looked up from her phone, as her eyes grew wider with each passing second. That couldn’t be possible. She must have misheard. She couldn’t have lost her luggage AND not have a room all in the same day.

“Beg your pardon?" she cleared her voice, hoping to have just heard wrong.

She searched for Shay’s dark eyes, hoping to find a different answer in them. But the look on the man’s angular face just confirmed that she had indeed heard right the first time.

"I said that I went to talk with the night receptionist - disagreeable lad, let me tell you- and he said that this-" and he waved his hand toward the door "It's the only room they have,"

Dorothea didn't answer right away, turning to look at the door as if it had the power to actually turn to life and bite her head off. She wrinkled her nose, feeling her palm sweating.

She had to fight the impulse to dry them against the white dress she was wearing. It was couture, for crying out loud.

"Tell me-“ she babbled, swallowing hard. “-tell me at least it's a double bed-" He shook his head, a sheepish smile on his face. Her face grew purple upon hearing that. Bloody hell. She knew it would end up like this. SHE KNEW IT. Leave it to her luck to give her exactly what she wanted - time alone with Shay - in the most embarrassing way. Clearing her voice, she tried to ignore the prickling warmth of her cheeks. "Very well, then. I will leave this room to you and find a place in another hotel-" "I already asked about it for myself, Poppet, and they are fully booked everywhere nearby. You know, with the Eurovision going on and all," Shay tilted his head as he crossed his arms against his chest. “B´sides, where you go I go. Your father wouldn’t be happy to be informed that I wasn’t doing the job he hired me for,”

Dorothea sighed, try with all her might to ignore her burning cheeks.

He had a point.

She looked once more her telephone, her eyes falling on the three smiling faces that were looking back at her.

She felt a surge of irritation run to her head.

She should have never accepted Charles and Phillip’s offer to make the reservation to the hotel for her, and knowing the penchant her cousins had to be nosy little buggers - especially when her sentimental life was concerned- they probably did it on purpose.

They knew that she had the biggest crush on Shay.

They KNEW IT.

So leave it to them to do precisely the opposite of what she asked, and not push her to reveal what she felt for Shay.

No, worse than that.

Leave it to them to put her in a situation where she would be closer than she had ever been to him.

Feeling Shay’s dark eyes on herself, she turned to look at him, as a strangled giggle left her throat.

What in the world was that sound she had just made? She thought, cursing herself with all her might.

“Just-just a moment. I need to send a message to my father to let him know we arrived,” she mumbled, before turning to tap furiously away on her mobile phone.

‘The moment I am back home, I am going to kill you both! That’s a PROMISE.’

And she would be sure to go through with that promise.

When she realized that Shay was still looking at her, she tried to relax her features, clearing her voice to regain her composure.

"Very well, then," she said, avoiding his eyes. " Shall we?"

With a small bow and a small smirk on his face, Shay opened his arm wide, letting her lead the way.

"After you, Princess."

Feeling her face growing even hotter, she used the magnetic card and pulled the handle. When she entered, her eyes were immediately drawn toward the bed.

It was a tad bigger than what she had imagined, but still too small than what she had liked.

Her heart started to beat in her chest now that the realization that he was going to be in the same bed with her.

She pursed her lips, looking at Shay from the corner of her eyes.

“Oh Dear God,” she thought again, as she glanced at his strong arms, the way his black shirt wrapped his chest and half tucked away in his jeans, her eyes pausing for one moment on his crotch, hidden under dark jeans, before forcing herself to look at the ceiling.

Dorothea knew she would never survive the night.

Not with him that close to her.

"I-I think I will go have a shower," she muttered under her breath, and before he could say anything, she had already disappeared into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

With her back against the door, trying to take deep breaths, she took the phone out of her pocket, and quickly dialed Phillip's number.

He picked up at the second ring.

"Dor-"

"Phillip, I swear on your mother’s grave that the moment I am back to London I am going to strangle you with my own hands! What were you thinking?"

He heard him chuckle on the other side.

"Did you like my surprise?"

"Liked it? LIKED IT?” she hissed through her teeth, moving away from the door hoping that Shay did not hear her. “You know damn well what I feel for him! What the hell am I suppose to do with him now? In a room with just one bed?"

She heard him chuckle on the other side of the phone, and the irritation in her chest grew tenfold.

"You are the creative one in the family, cousin. And you got him for yourself all night. Better yet, for all the weekend. This is your occasion to finally get out of this limbo you put yourself into.”

(……)

While Dorothea was busy taking her shower, Shay had ordered room service. He knew Dorothea was vegetarian - at least he thought she was, if all the time he had accompanied her to various social events were any indication - so he had settled down ordering a pizza for both of them.

As he waited, he sat on the small bed, and looked at it. Damn it all, it was small.

He wasn't as big as Connor, but even then, there was barely enough space for both him and Dorothea.

His mouth was dry, as he tried to figure out how they would manage to get to sleep.

What if he snored and woke her up?

What if he drooled?

What if..

He tried not to imagine her body against his own, tried not to think at the obvious effect she would have on him while being in his arms.

He rubbed his eyes, because, what a fucking luck.

"Shay?" He heard her call him from the bathroom.

He jumped a little, absorbed as he was in his thoughts.

"Yes, Poppet?"

"Is my luggage here? Did they find it by any chance?”

"Unfortunately no, Poppet. Didn’t hear anything from the airport nor the reception, so I’m afraid your luggage is still lost,"

He heard her sighing from behind the door, and felt his stomach grip as he tried not to think about her completely naked, trying with all his might to stop his mind to run *precisely* to where it would always go each night before he fell asleep. He kneeled beside his own old, worn-out backpack, and took out an old t-shirt - a memento from a Led Zeppelin concert he went to with Edward and Ezio once- and a pair of men’s trunks.

He knocked at the door of the bathroom, and it opened just a smidgen, Dorothea's face peeking through the crack.

He swallowed hard when he saw her, the steam still rising from her wet skin, droplets of water still on her shoulder, her silver-blond hair plastered against her cheek-still tinted of bright red.

"H-here, you can use this for the night," he said, trying to sound normal. "I figured you might want something to-to wear underneath."

She unraveled the clothes and when he saw his undergarments, she blushed from her cheeks to her neck, eyes growing wide. She stood quiet, looking at the garments as if they had the power of bite her.

"I-Thank you, Shay. I will - I will dress now." she said, keeping the clothes to her chest and closing the door behind her.

Shay huffed at himself.

'Great, Shay, now she'll think you are a weirdo that gives underwear around,' he thought, rolling his eyes. It took all his strength not to facepalm himself. (...........)

()

"Goodnight," she murmured, giving him her back, as she faced the wall, leaning her burning forehead agains the cool wall, hoping to calm down, if only for a little bit. Shay gave her his back as well, despite wanting to do the exact contrary, and but tried to make himself as small as possible, to give her enough space to turn, if she wanted to. They were both lying straight as fuses, as uncomfortable as they could be, not daring to move one inch, afraid as they were to touch more of the other. Shay tried to ignore his gallopping heart in his chest and tried to close his eyes and drift into sleep, but all he could think about was the floral perfume of shampoo that came from her hair. He clenched his fist, as he tried not to think about his fingers running through those locks. They stood like that for what seemed an eternity, neither of them truly able to fall asleep, both of them thinking about the other. "What a situation, eh?" Dorothea heard him say as he chuckled under his breath. "Like one in those cheesy movies Lucia always denies to watch," she answered back with a smile. They both looked over their shoulders at the same time, dark eyes reflecting into a steel blue one, and both let out a loud laugh. She turned on her other side, now facing his broad back. Dorothea bit her lip, her hand moving toward his back without her even realizing what she was doing.

She lightly brushed her fingertips against the shirt, forcing herself not to fully caress him, despite how much she wanted it to. She brought her hand back to her chest when she saw him turning on his side as well, now facing her, his eyes looking straight into hers, the beams of the sun finally setting reflecting into them despite being already almost midnight. She could still clearly see the scar that ran through his eyes. "Looks like we're in for a long, sleepless night," he murmured, bringing one arm under his head. "Looks like it," she whispered back, her breath hitching in her throat when she saw him scooting closer. She had never been so close to him, so close that she could feel him breathing against her skin. "My shirt looks good on you," he chuckled, snuggling his face against his arm, a soft lock of dark hair falling on his eye. Dorothea felt her breath catch in her throat. "I-" she mumbled. She was always ready with a witty comeback, a way to get herself out of small moments of embarassment. But now, with him so close to her she could see all his expression lines, his cologne filling her nostril, she couldn't thinkg of anything, her mind only filled with thoughts of him. "Thank you." She blushed, averting her eyes. "And thank you for letting me use it. I will make sure to have the laundry service wash it tomorrow and give it back to you." He shook his head with a low chuckle. "Keep it, Poppet. It looks better on you," He only managed to let out a small chuckle. He couldn’t tell her how seeing her with only his shirt on affected him. Knowing that the course fabric that usually covered him was now against her bare skin. He had to fight the impulse to lower his eyes and take in all of her once more. Instead, His hand found its way to her cheek, as he gently brushed his knuckles against the soft skin. Oh God, she thought at his touch. She felt her skin warm up, cursing that he would feel it. "Thank you," she lowered her eyes one moment before looking back at him. He was still smiling at her. "What is it?" She asked.

"I know it's an inconvenience, having to share the bed with an oaf like me," he said."But if I have to be honest with you, Poppet, I'm actually happy it happened," "You are not an oaf, Shay," she blushed, before taking courage and scooting a little closer to him. “And if you want to know the truth…I am happy as well,” Shay's eyes lit up, his mouth agape. “Really?” She smiled. "Really," She scooted even closer, the skin on her face prickling. It was now or never. Leaning over to him, she brushed her lips against his, lingering for a moment to take in how warm they were - how soft. She felt the lingering taste of tobacco from the last cigarette he had smoked before coming back to the room, but despite usually hating smoke, she found herself not minding about it at all. It was something that made him him. When she broke the kiss, his breath against her own lips, her face was aflame and her stomach in a twist. Shay stared at her, eyes blinking as his mind spinned, trying to calm himself, his breath hitching in the back of his throat. But nothing could stop the blazing sensation that had started to pool in his loins. Not the kisses. He had imagined far too many times how it would feel kissing her, feeling Dorothea pressing herself against him, wrapping his arms around her body.

It always started with a kiss. He knew how it would end, if they were to start kissing. And he wanted it, so much it hurt. He breathed through his nostrils, trying to calm the need he had for her with all his might, head spinning as the blood fled from his brain. When Dorothea saw that he didn’t answer at all, she fought the impulse to hide her face against the pillow.

What if she had read all the signals wrong? What if she had seen something that just wasn't there? “I-I am sorry, Shay, I am so so sorry. I shouldn’t have.” she only whispered, as she started to turn to face the wall once more. Shay’s large hand found its way to the nape of her neck, making her look at him. The glint in his eyes was unquestionable, veiled as they were by unspoken lust. “Yes, you should have,” he murmured in a low husky voice that made Dottie shiver with pleasure. He pulled her against him and found her mouth with his, while his other hand found a way to the small of her back, pushing her even tighter against him. Dorothea let out a small moan that drowned in his throat, feeling that familiar clenching that enveloped her loins whenever she thought of him, when she was alone. She threw her arms around his shoulders, as he let his hands roam underneath the shirt she was wearing, feeling her soft skin underneath his palms. They were truly in for a long, sleepless night.

----------------------------------

I hope you will like this! I remember writing this while still trying to get the hang on how to write Shay, and I had so much fun because OMG this AU is probably one of my most favourite (aside from my own Camelot one, that is another one that has a HUGE part in my heart <3<3).

Also, keep in mind that Dorothea's characterization was still in the process of being developed, so she is a little less girlboss here than I actually like to imagine her to be with Shay usually.

But I still like how I portrayed them together.

I truly hope you will like this, I wouldn't mind starting to write again for them, in between artworks lolol

--Nemo

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

Monday Draft

-Mind you all that this is going to be a short fragment of what I wrote in Italian, so you might have to translate, if you want to read it. It's mostly for myself, to keep myself accountable and just keep on writing once more in Italian-

(.....)

“Guardalo come dorme,” Shay mormoró, mentre sul suo viso si dipingeva un sorriso che racchiudeva in sé un misto di levitá e affetto.

Dopo un travaglio durato piú a lungo di quanto il suo spirito potesse sopportare, suo figlio finalmente giaceva tra le sue braccia, sano e salvo, ignaro di tutto ció che lo circondava, avvolto com’era dalla calda coperta di lana che portava i colori della casata di sua madre.

I suoi occhi, cosí scuri e penetranti e completamente rapiti, guardavano il neonato sognante, come se cercassero di mandare a memoria ogni singolo dettaglio di quel piccolo visetto paffuto.

Aveva I colori di sua madre - gli stessi occhi color delle pervinche che crescevano nei prati fuori Lannisport, le stesse lentiggini dorate che puntigliavano le guance morbide e la fronte bombata di entrambi; un Lannister in tutto, persino nel cipiglio del pianto... se non per gli scuri capelli piumati che ricoprivano quel capino cosí minuto, l'impronta inconfutabile che il sangue dei Mormont - il suo stesso sangue - scorreva nelle vene del bimbo.

Shay alzó lo sguardo, e ció che vide sciolse la severa maschera del suo viso in un’ espressione di profonda amorevolezza: Dorothea sonnecchiava pacifica tra le fresche lenzuola che ancora profumavano di pulito, in quell’immenso letto che era stato il loro rifugio sin dalla prima notte in cui avevano deciso di lasciarsi alle spalle qualsiasi parvenza di decoro, e di seguire invece soltanto I dettami dei loro cuori.

Con passo leggero e con accortenza nel non svegliare il pargoletto che si stringeva al petto, Shay si avvicinó all’amata dormiente, e posó sulla fronte di alabastro un tenero bacio.

Ma nonostante la sua accortenza, Shay vide Dorothea battere le lunghe ciglia dorate e destarsi dal sonno ristoratore, richiamata dal mondo dei sogni da quei baci che avevano sempre avuto il potere di risvegliarla.

“Perdonami, amor mio,” sussurró il guerriero con sguardo corrucciato che mal celava l'irritazione che provava verso sé stesso. “Non intendevo svegliarti.”

La labbra della giovane donna si dipinsero in un sorriso ameno e Shay vide rifulgere in quello sguardo una luce serena, la stessa che impermeava ogni singola fibra del proprio essere. Se lei fosse provata dalle lunghe ore del parto o dalle poche ore di sonno, non sembrava darlo a vedere. Tutto ció che lui riusciva a scorgere sul suo viso era amore, un amore che trascendeva tutto il resto. “Da quando Lorcán é nato, ho acquisito gli stessi tuoi poteri: sento anche i bisbigli della servitú da dietro le pareti,” disse lei scherzosamente, puntellandosi sui gomiti per meglio guardare l’amato e il figlio.

(.....)

------------------

[trans-formers-n-stuff]

damn it...

[nemolfc]

me when [ insert football player's name ] posts an instagram picture.

( reblog with your faves babe )

[nemossubmarine]

Title: Ties That Bind (Trazyn/Orikan, rated E, 54k words)

Summary:

A matter of debt has been raised in the Awakened Council concerning Trazyn the Infinite and Orikan the Diviner. They have not repaid the gifts in the eve of their nuptials during the Flesh Times. One problem though, they are not married. Trazyn and Orikan have to work together to convince the Awakened Council of their statuses as bachelors. Should be easy, right? Somewhere in the deep, dark past, the Last Seer of the Necrontyr sees a coming end. Is there anything to do to stop it?

A/N: Another year, another Big Bang, same old divorced coots. Hope you enjoy!

[nem0-kn0ws-n0t]

I know the kindest thing (Is to leave you alone)

Maybe that's why he's sitting on his dock, barefeet in cold water, fishing for something he's not even sure he needs in the middle of the night.

He feels a sigh coming up his throat. If only this would help.

OR

Insomnia vs hermits caring for each other, fight On AO3!

The moonlight reflects off of the water, giving it an impression of stillness. The waves lap lazily against the shore and against his legs, but he can barely feel them anymore. The stillness of the scene seems as if in direct contrast with the discordant thoughts in his head. Maybe that's why he's sitting on his dock, bare feet in cold water, fishing for something he's not even sure he really needs in the middle of the night.

He feels a sigh coming up his throat. If only this would help.

"Is anything biting?"

He doesn't jump, thank you very much, but he does flinch at Gem's voice. A glance back over his shoulder reveals her to be in her pajamas, a bathrobe thrown over for modesty and her hair in loose braids falling over her shoulders. He turns back to the water and shrugs his shoulder.

"I think they're asleep."

Gem hums noncommittally and comes closer, to where Grian can almost feel her behind his back.

"Probably tired from all that swimming, makes sense."

Grian doesn't deign to answer, calloused hands clutching the fishing road tighter, his eyes never straying from the bobbin.

Time passes. Perhaps minutes, perhaps hours, hard to tell this early.

He feels her shift slightly and the next second, a heavy woollen blanket is dropped over his shoulders. He startles, already turning back to her, only to be greeted by a flask held out to him. He meets her green eyes above the steam, confusion meeting amusement.

"Take it" She pushes the flask closer to him, forcing him to grab onto it to prevent a spill. "It's cold out here."

He's about to question it before the smell reaches him- and Gem just handed him hot chocolate. The good kind too, probably nicked or bartered from Doc (probably nicked, that man is possessive over his cocoa mix). He blinks stupendously.

"I'm not a child." Tumbles out of his mouth before realizing what he's saying. He winces inwardly at the words- being tired has always made him more snappish than usual. Before he can apologize, Gem cuts him off with a giggle.

"Course not." She pats him comfortingly on his shoulder, over the warm orange blanket that is indeed keeping him warm. He hadn't even noticed how cold it'd gotten before being covered. "That's why it's the *good* kind."

A second whiff at the flask reveals a familiar fermented note to the sweet aroma of cocoa. Ah, some of Keralis's flair as well. How...sweet.

"Thank you." He bites out, now cradling the flask against his chest. Gem simply smiles at him and straightens back up.

"Of course." She brushes off her robe. "Have a good night, Grian." She remarks over her shoulder as she turns back towards her boat.

He watches her until she climbs back into her boat, until the lights dim once again in her bedroom before taking a sip of the cocoa. The warmth seeps into his body, into his soul, dulling some of the harshest thoughts. He feels a smile tug at the corner of his lips.

"Good night Gem."

~~~

Somehow, being rocked to sleep by the sea is not nearly as soothing as it should be. The waves lapping against the deck and the slow consistent creaking of the wood tangle to create a haunting type of lullaby, one that simply can’t lull Gem to sleep.

She feels herself shifting again and again, trying desperately to lean into the day’s exhaustion but nothing works. Sighing, she gives up and sits up, digging her palms into her eye socket and letting out a groan.

She cannot afford to be this picky about sleep this early in the season. Not when she needs to be up at the crack of dawn to keep grinding away at her projects.

With a huff she gets up, dragging her blankets over her shoulders and picking up the lantern. Maybe some fresh air will do her some good.

Slowly, groggily, she makes her way to the bow and drapes herself half haphazardly over the railing. Here, staring out into the open waters, she feels almost at peace. There’s something almost hypnotic about the repeated movements, the ups and downs of the boat as it bobs on the river. Here, under the dark sky and the silver of the moon, adrift on the ship, time seems to slip away from her. No responsibilities, no projects, nothing important. Just back and forth and back and forth and-

“Maybe you should get away from the edge” an amused voice calls from behind her “before you fall overboard.”

If Gem wasn’t as drop-dead exhausted, she probably would have jumped. But she did startle, jerking back a bit too hard, momentarily losing her balance.

“Woah!” The voice calls out before warm hands settle on her back, steadying her. She blinks a few times, before shooting a glance backwards only to be met by familiar blond curls. She takes a moment to place them.

“...Grian?” The answering chuckle confirms his identity.

“How out of it are you?”

Gem hums noncommital, slumping forward to lean her arms on the edge, chin resting on her forearms.

“Can’t sleep.” She mumbles, eyes trained on the horizon. His hands shifted until he was rubbing comforting circles on her back.

“And so you decide to fall asleep on the edge of the boat instead.” The smile is clear in his voice “Makes sense.”

Gem shrugs “It’s soothing” Grian chuckles again, hand coming up to massage the back of her neck. A noise builds up at the back of her throat in contentment and she lets her eyes drift shut, just for a second.

Grian hmms, non committedly.

“Alright, scooch over.” The gentle hands turn back to her shoulder and ever so softly, she feels herself shifting around until she’s curled against a warm shoulder, a heavy woollen blanket draped over her shoulders once again. Blearingly, she opens her eyes, only to be met by twinkling eyes and an easy smile.

“What are you…” She mumbles out, curling slightly more into the warmth, a yawn cutting her off.

“Making sure you don’t fall overboard.” Comes the hushed answer, an arm snaking around her waist. Gem hums, eyes already slipping back closed. She does manage to shimmy her blanket over his shoulders as well, enveloping the both of them into a warm cocoon. This close, she can smell the sea salt and fresh wood smells clinging to his fabric, a smell somehow comforting. Somehow soothing.

Somehow, all her earlier reluctance to sleep evades her and she feels herself slowly drift off.

The chest under her rumbles one last time.

“Good night, Gem.”

[mrsluthordanvers]

I love your fic ‘the one with all the doctors’ I realize it’s an abandoned fic. I love it regardless and have reread it numerous times. Guess I’m a sucker for a gay medical drama, regardless I love your writing. All of it, not just that fic. Excited and eager to see what you write next.

With much love,

A Serious Fan <3

oh! I appreciate the kind words 🥰 I say this now and hopefully it stays true *fingers crossed* I have not abandoned the one with all the doctors!

I have accumulated about 9 drafts of chapter 3 since I posted the last chapter lol I recently worked out a problem I was having with the plot in this chapter but it turns out I'm just really struggling to write right now. I am still opening it about once a month to try to get words out and I have a few other WIPs that I have been brainstorming - all multi chapter ideas though which I find notoriously hard to write and finish. But I always welcome chats about my stuff!!!

You're wonderful and I hope you're having a good week anon!

[nemolfc]

*checks list* way too many times …

Reblog if you've ever cried over the death of a fictional character

[nemo-in-wonderland]

ROBYN "HIRAETH" GOODFELLOW | ARCHFEY BARDLOCK | HALF SEA ELF

Name: Robyn Goodfellow

Nickname: Hiraeth. It was her human mother’s name. She took it as her own after returning from the Feywild and uses it as her performing name to honour her memory after having lost her to the whims of time.

Title: “The Silvertongued Saltimbanco”

Alias: Puck (it was the name Oberon used for her during her time in the Feywild. Her Patron grew fond of it and that’s how she is known at the Seelie Court. She doesn’t seem to particularly appreciate it, but she knows better than to contradict either Oberon or Titania).

Age: 33 years old (albeit, she woud be over 150 years old, due to having spent approximately three years in the Feywild, at the Seelie Court, where time flows differently compared to the Material Plane. She was actually born in 1292 DR - Year of the Wandering Waves).

Birthplace: Hiraeth was born in the waters of Deepwater Harbour of Waterdeep, in the sea elf hamlet of T'Quession.

Hometown: Waterdeep, the City of Splendours

Current Residence: Before the events of Baldur’s Gate 3, Hiraeth was travelling around the planes with the Witchlight Carnival, where she performed as Trapezist and Aerial Artist. After the events of Baldur’s Gate 3 and after fulfilling her pact with Oberon, she went back home to Waterdeep with Gale.

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Race: Half-Sea Elf

Class: Archfey Warlock/ Bard

Profession/job: Saltimbanco and Trapezist.

Visual particular traits: Underneath the Fey Glamour she casts upon herself to appear as a normal Elf, Hiraeth hides the scales, fins and gills that would be a dead give away of her sea elven heritage. She is not particularly comfortable in showing them around, at least on the Material Plane. In the Feywild, she doesn’t care as much and goes around without any glamour covering her features.

Scent: Evening Primrose, Pansies, Moonflower and Honeysuckle. Hawtorn as well.

Colours/symbols associated with: The Colour of the Astral Sea; Her flute, carved by Damh himself, twin to his own, from which she never parts ways; the mist in an autumnal forest at dusk; A bush filled with blossoming pansies, in all the shades of blue, violet and pink; the dust that fall of a butterfly’s wings; the beauty of the crushing waves during a storm; the glittering of fireflies all round a meadow;

Languages: Thanks to her time spent in the Feywild and subsequently, travelling with the Witchlight Circus and her own inclination to pick up languages easily, Hiraeth can speak an incredible amount of languages. She is fluent in Sylvan, Faun, Elvish (Sea Elvish) and Common. She is also conversational in Sylph, Merman Language and Selkie and, while travelling with Azriel, Asra and Dorothea, she is learning Infernal and Druidic as well.

Accent?: She retaines no Waterdhavian accent from the small time she spent with her mother and father, before ending up in the Feywild, and her current accent is influenced by Damh’s own. So she generally speaks with a strong Sylvan accent.

Tropes they embody: “Fish out of water”, “The Charmer”, Plucky Comic Relief”, “Eternal Youth”, “The Fair Folk”, “Broken Bird”, “Manic Pixie Dream Girl”, “The Rebel”, “The Eternal Optimist”, “The Trickster”, “Hidden Depth”, “Badass Adorable”, “Beware the Nice Ones”, “Cloud Cuckoo Lander”, “Cute Bruiser”, “Deadpan Snarker”, “Bunny-Ears Lawyer”, “Didn’t think this through”, “Exact Words”, “Obfuscating Insanity”, “Eccentric Artist” “Everyone Calls Him Barkeep”, “Non Sequitur”, “Daddy’s girl”, “Fourth-Wall Observer”, “Cheshire Cat Grin”, “O.O.C. Is Serious Business”, “The Prankster”, “Fey-Driven Talents”, “Undying Loyalty”.

Personality: Charismatic, Enchanting, Imaginative, Assertive, Natural Flair for the Dramatic, Sweet as Sugar, Enthusiastic, Kind Hearted, Mischievous, Witty, Whimsical, Happy-go-lucky, Determinate, Resilient, Spontaneous, Eccentric, Fey-Touched, Thoughtful, Can be apathetic, Far too forward, lack any type of filter, uncautious, erratic, disorganized, sometimes she appears detached from reality, as if she was living in two places at the same time. It took Gale a while to realize that it can take a while before she comes back to their reality. Whenever she is “back”, all she could say is that whenever the music of the flutes starts, she has to follow.

Detailed Backstory: Hiraeth - née Robyn Goodfellow - was an Half-Sea Elf, born from the union of her human mother, Hiraeth Dantathur Goodfellow, and a Marel Sea Elf, Aeren Maenenrid, of the noble house Maenenrid, one of the founder family of Mareliar.

Her father was a respected warrior among the Aquatic Elves society, known for his prowess in battle, the merciless ferocity he displayed against the enemies of his people and his utmost devotion to the Goddess Umberlee; her mother, instead, was a kind but spunky human woman and a renowned travelling bard in Waterdeep, known for being able to compose and play the most beautiful songs, dedicated to the Goddess Selune, despite being completely blind.

They met by chance while she was touring in Cormyr with her itinerary band: she was singing in Dragonmere and he happened to listen upon her, while patrolling the shores. There was something in the way that human sang, something in the way her notes would touch part of his heart in a manner unknown even to himself. Before long, Aeren found himself absolutely smitten by her and her singing, and approached her, with all intention of getting to know her. Hiraeth Dantathur, on her end, was also incredibly curious about this suitor of hers, albeit unaware about his maritime persuasion.

Nevertheless, their love soon blossomed over time, and evolved in a forbidden relationship, for Aeren had been promised, in an arranged marriage, and betrothed to another Marel Elf, Nessa Aveantius. Aeren could not bear the thought of giving up his sweet human love, and decided - despite dreading the idea - to travel through dry land and leave the Sea of Fallen Stars behind, heading instead with Hiraeth Dantathur to her hometown, the City of Splendors, Waterdeep.

Here, they would settle down in the harbour, where Aeren would make contact with the local population of Sea Elves and offer his skills and experience as defender of the underwater hamlet of T'Quession, and not long after this, their only daughter, Robyn, was born.

Joyful and mischievous, little Robyn spent more time underwater than she did on land, swimming and diving deep in the harbour, where she would play with the children of the Sea Elves of T’Quession.

Whenever her mother would manage to catch Robyn and actually make her sit still for a little while, she would bring her to the same woods where her father, a druid and acolyte of the Feywild Gods, raised a stone circle and standing stone; there, she would teach Robyn how to play the flute in honour of Damh and Titania, Oberon ad Verenestra, and would talk for hours about all the stories her own papa would tell her about the Feywild.

Fascinated, Robyn would start to look forward to these little moments with her mother, and would start bringing small gifts of food to leave within the stone circle, as an offering to the old Sylvan Gods.

Their happy days, however, would soon come to a close, for Nessa Aveantius, Aeren’s intented, with sorrow at first and then scorn at the news that her future husband would renounce their future life for a human woman, did all in her power to find them and take back the happiness that was stolen from her.

So, one day, five years from Aeren and Hiraeth Dantathur’s arrival at Waterdeep, the assassins sent by Nessa would find the small family and enact the long awaited revenge of the scorned elf-woman.

Aeren fought like a shark, trying to defend both Hiraeth and Robyn, but unprepared as he was, he lost Hiraeth to the assassins’ daggers before he had the chance to even embrace his own trident. Knowing Nessa and her vindictive temper , Aeren knew that the assassins’s aim was not just the woman he had loved, but also the child that they had sired together, so to forever erase the offense brought by his betrayal.

He screamed for little Robyn to run, run, run, as far and as fast as the breeze allowed her, and to never look back, for if she did, she was lost.

Robyn, covered in her mother’s own blood and absolutely terrified in her pain, fled the small cottage, trying to put as much distance between the assassins and herself. She let her feet guide her down the path, drowning in pure terror as she tried to keep the last thoughts of her mother’s life away from her mind.

Back into her mother’s glade, she found her grandfather’s circle of stone, and without looking back, she crossed through the dolmen, and kept running until her legs gave out ad she couldn’t even breathe anymore.

So terrified she was of her pursuers, that she hadn’t even noticed that the forest around her was not the wood that bordered the clearing, and without a second thought, she would find a small cavity in one of the trees nearby, climbing inside and hiding away.

She didn’t remember how long she had spent inside the tree, trembling and whimpering at every single sound, but it was not long before exhaustation would take her and she would fall into a deep, almost impenetrable sleep.

Nightmare after nightmare would followed her through her slumbering, chasing and stalking her like a pack of rabid dogs that would not let her rest, reliving the moment her mother’s eyes - blind from childhood - would truly never see life ever again; recalling her father’s blood running from the wound on his head and his distraught scream of admonishment to run for her life.

Nightmare after nightmare after nightmare that paralyzed Robyn into a spiral of horrors, until gentle music found its way within her mind and quelled some of those atrocities.

When she opened her eyes, trying to figure out where she was, she found a stranger looking at her with curiousity.

He didn’t resemble any man she ever saw in her life: small in stature, with skin the colour of the branches of the tree around her, auburn hair with golden filigree and eyes as dark as a starless night, he appeared to be around the same age as her papa, but at the same time, something about his bearing made him appear as old as the mountains she once read about in one of her mother’s book.

That man was Damh, son of Titania and Oberon and the old Patron God Robyn’s maternal family worshipped when alive.

Without any question, for he had witnessed what had happened to her, he took young Robyn with him, and brought her to the Summer Court, Titania’s domain, where she would reside for the following three years.

Damh would plead his mother to allow him to keep the child around, for her family was among the few that still worshipped him, and a great tragedy had befallen them all. Titania would agree to her son’s wish, moved to profound pity at the predicament the child had found herself into, but she had one condition for her son: to never let the mortal child wander the Summer Court whenever Oberon was around; the Green Lord was not fond of mortals, after Titania’s own tryst with a mortal man a few decades earlier, and she knew that, even if time had passed, he still resented her for it.

And so little Robyn was left under the gentle - if unorthodox- cares of Damh, who treated her with kind compassion and saw in her an acolyte and a student to whom impart the knowledge of the Feywild and of the Sylvan Gods of Old.

The sadness in Robyn’s heart lingered for a while, with her thoughts always leading her back to the Harbour of Waterdeep, where her life had started and finished at the same time. But time and reality in the Feywild was fickle, and soon her memories started to dim. As Damh would often explain to her, whenever she asked why she couldn’t answer questions about her past anymore, “ The Feywild makes you forget. The longer you linger here, child, the more of you will be lost to the Faerie”.

With forgetfulness, came a quenching of the sorrow that was strangling her heart, and each day that sorrow would relent its grip, leaving Robyn in relative peace, as she followed Damh around from one adventure to the other, exploring all the Feywild far and wild, as she slowly forgot about everything that was “before”.

But the Green Lord, who dominated over the Summer Court, couldn’t be kept oblivious for long, and a fatal day, Robyn, now a child of almost eight years of age, stumbled upon him while looking for Queen Titania and Damh.

As much as the sight of a mortal child walking his Court despite his explicit ban on allowing mortals to enter that sacred ground was enough to anger Oberon, nothing could rival the fury he felt when he discovered that his own son and wife had concealed Robyn from his knowledge.

Knowing that he couldn’t do anything to hurt either Titania nor Damh, Oberon decided to take his revenge onto the child that had dared stroll around his Court, and bound young Robyn into a pact with him: Robyn was tricked by Oberon into giving her name to him, in exchange of powers that altered reality for her victims, leaving her unable to distinguish dreams from reality. Robyn believed that she was agreeing to a harmless promise to bring joy and merriment, after so much sorrow, and to also contribute to protect beautiful dreams, but instead, she was unwittingly caught into Oberon and Titania’s quarrel, born out of Oberon’s jealousy toward the favour his wife had once shown to a mortal through dreams and visions.

Because of this, Robyn’s mind would be perpetually torn between the dream realm and reality, with no way of controlling either in the way she wanted. She would experience vivid, often terrifying dreams of her “victims”, dreams that intruded upon her consciousness, causing her to lose track of time and space and leaving her fractured, as if she her own conscience was divided from her own soul. Her perception of reality was often distorted, leading to experience hallucinations, with sudden mood swings, and uncontrollable bursts of magic that she had no way to predict. She might find herself acting out dreams in reality or slipping into a dream state without warning and her sanity would always be at constant risk as she battled the chaotic thoughts and impulses that bombarded her mind.

Unaware of all the consequences that would come from trading away her name, Robyn would then be sent once more to the Mortal Plane, now carrying the alias of "Puck", but not before Titania bestowed a blessing and a protection upon the young child, to allow her to retain, at least partially, a sense of the reality around her. It was also Titania’s blessing that would put her on the path of a young Gale Dekarios, causing the two to actually become friends.

Gale and Robyn knew each other since childhood, when Morena Dekarios welcomed her in their household for a while. They were close friends, with Robyn being enamoured of the way he practiced Magic and him being absolutely enthralled by her stories of the Feywild and also immensely happy to have someone that looked up to him and didn’t think him bizarre. They would often spend their days together, playing tags around the docks together or putting themselves in trouble, with Robyn being the culprit and instigator, most of the time, sweet Gale always ready to play with her and poor Tara trying her best to look over the two children so that they would not end up in trouble. Sometimes, whenever Gale would ask her to, Robyn would recount about all her adventures in the Feywild with Damh, and all the wondrous places she explored during her time there (something that Morena didn’t truly believe possible, but would always refrain from letting her thoughts known, so not shatter Robyn’s belief).

But, whenever she tried to recount anything connected to Oberon or anything connected to the pact she agreed to as a child, she always felt her mind grow as foggy as an early morning on the Tor that acted as a barrier between the Court of Summer and the Court of Autumn, and could feel her own mind break in two, in the “here” and “there”.

Curious about such predicament, Gale would not hesitate one moment to find his way into Blackstaff Academy and learn whatever he could on the topic, but alas his efforts, albeit commendable, would always result in nothing.

Still, stubborn as ever, Gale would not give up on his friend - on whom he had started to harbour a crush - and promised Robyn that he would find a way to retrieve all her memories.

A year after Robyn had “unofficially” joined the Dekarios household, Robyn and Gale would find their way to the Harbour, busy as they were in , able to only remember glimpses of her life before entering the Feywild, found her way to the old, small sea-side cottage her father had built for their family, and once there, she found it empty, sacked and left at the merciless whims of time.

A small tombstone laid not that farther away, and drawn by it, Robyn found where her mother’s last resting place was. The sight dislodged some of the memories she believed forgotten, with glimpses of what happened on the fatal day when the assassins from her father’s tribe came to bring ruin and devastation.

And it was more than she could bear, as those memories started to cascade without respite. But the memories were not the only thing that brought dread to her heart: the date on the small tombstone had left her bereft, for how was it possible that two hundred years had passed from that day?

She was only nine years old: how could it be?

Confused and terrorized about who she was, what she was, what she had agreed to when she gave her name to Oberon, she felt her mind fractur even more,and before she could stop herself, she started spiraling, which caused her to unleash some of the untamed powers that Oberon gave her.

It wasn’t the first time it happened, but whenever she couldnt’ bridle them in the Feywild, Damh had always been there to help stabilize herself before her outburst of magic could cause havoc.

It was not the case that time, and she ended up hurting Gale, a possibility that had always terrified her ever since she met the sweet boy.

Even more frightened now, she brought Gale back home, where Morena and Tara would tend to his wound, imploring Morena’s forgiveness for what happened, and swearing it had been an accident. The young woman would forgive Robyn, and Gale as well would be all patched up without lasting consequences, but Robyn could not forgive herself.

What would happen if she would spiral again? What would happen if she couldn’t keep her powers under control, now that Damh was not with her?

Invain was the reassurance that all was forgiven and that they would all try to find a way to help her: Robyn felt too dangerous to be around others, especially around Morena, Gale and Tara, that had treated her like one of their own, without ever asking anything from her.

That very night, despite the profound sadness she felt in leaving the people that had welcomed her in their life and gave her a semblance of normalcy, she decided to run away from the Dekarios household, and to run away from Waterdeep entirely, leaving her hometown behind in the hope that, by putting some distance between herself ad her past, she would not spiral anymore and would not cause any more accidents.

Not daring to find her way into the Feywild again for fear that more centuries would pass, she spent a few years as a urchin in Baldur’s Gate, where she would survive from people’s charity, conning the Patriars and dipping into their fat purses.

It was at 13 years of age, while she was busy performing a rather daring move to enter inside one the Patriars’ manor to steal some jewelry - Szarr, was the name - that Robyn was caught by Mr. Witch and Mr. Light, the two proprietors of the Witchlight Carnival, and impressed by the was the girl seemed almost to levitate on air, they offered her a job at their circus.

Robyn - now Hiraeth, in honour of her mother - accepted and became part of the Circus, travelling around the various Planes with the troupe, until that fated day in the year 1492 DR, where she was abducted by a Nautiloid and tadpoled.

Most treasured possession: The charms she carries around her waist: a gift from Damh from her first time she crossed the Fey Crossroad into the Feywild, she carries it with her at all times. It’s what allows her to not age (and die from it) every time she travel from the Feywild to the Material Plane. Another one is an ocarina made out of seashell that she had with her the day she was lead into the Feywild by Damh. It was the only thing that she was able to grab before doing as her father told her to and run for safety. Another possession she has, that she never parts with, is an enchanted lantern that Dorothea gifted her, when they met in Neverwinter. After hearing Hiraeth’s affliction about her “not belonging anywhere”, Dorothea enchanted a lantern for her that would lit up in her hour of needs and lead her to her true home, when in doubts.

Sexual and/or romantic situation: After sharing part of their childhood together, and after reuniting when both of them got tadpoled, Hiraeth fell in love with Gale with such profound sentiment, it finally gave her the resolve -and the hope- that she would be able to get out of her contract with Oberon and would finally be able to be whole once more.

Favourite place: The Court of Under the Stars. Once, as a child, during her residency in the Feywild, Hiraeth and Damh went adventuring together, and Damh managed to sneak them both inside, by traversing the portal that lies where the River Styx touches Yggdrasil. They shouldn’t have had access to the Plane where the Court resides, but Queen Morwel was indebted to Damh, and to return the favour, allowed for them to pass through the portals unscathered and to travel around the realm freely just that one time. Here, Hiraeth experienced something that marked her forever, when she saw the eternal twilight that enveloped The Court. She felt the same peace she felt when looking at the stars and the moon when she was a child, basking in Selune’s embrace. It left her with a sense of peace that she never experienced again.

What makes them happiest: Swimming. Oh, how she adores swimming, feeling the sensation of flying through waters deep and low alike, breaching the surface only to dive back, as a dolphin would do when playing with his brethern. After reuniting with her papa, she is learning to appreciate her Sea Elf heritage more and more, as a way for her to reconnect to that part of her past that she thought lost forever.

What makes them angriest: Hiraeth is an extremely tranquil and unfazed woman, with her head in the clouds more often than not, and it’s incredibly difficult angering her. However, there are few things that make her go absolute insane with ire, her mother’s death being the easiest to trigger her. It took her a remarkable long time to find back all her memories of her and what happened that day, and that her father was not at direct fault, but instead he was the reason that Hiraeth was able to save herself.

Another thing that makes her immensely irate, this time with herself, is how she was so easily coherced into giving away her name - and therefore, her truest self- to Oberon to become his Vassal of Chaos in both the Material Plane and the Dreamscape of Mortals. She will never be able to be called “Robyn” again, never to be able to be one and whole again, long as she doesn’t fullfill her pact with him, and she berates herself every single day for it. Over time, she has come to suspect that this is also one of the reasons why she feels like she is slowly going insane: she exists in two places at the same time, the Feywild, where her truest self exists, and the Material Plane, where she navigates around as “Puck”, an husk and servant to Oberon’s whims. She also suspects that it’s Titania and Damh’s protection that’s helping her not slip further and further away into madness.

What makes them laugh: Damh, of all people. He was always the reason she was able to be safe and sound in the Feywild for so long, as a child, whenever she was scared or lonely, and would always come up with silly ideas to make her laugh and make her forget her troubles. She suspects that he extended his benevolence to her out of guilt for what his father did to her, but she always appreciated his constant attempt to render her days lighter and filled with laughters.

Also, she *loves* to pull all sorts of pranks on people: she lives for it, and she is extremely good at it.

Biggest secret: Her biggest secret is not truly one per se, but rather her biggest shame: while she bears her mother’s name, she has no memory of her at all. As Damh himself would put it “The Feywild makes you forget, and soonern rather than later, all your memories are lost into the mist of time”. And this was exactly what happened to her. She also feels her mind doesn’t work as it should, after the long years she spent in the Feywild under Oberon’s influence and she does her best to hide this behind her eccentric behaviour, albeit, sometimes, she feels herself slipping more into insanity.

Obsession: Getting back her name and her mental sanity. She wants to be able to feel whole again, to not feel fragmented, to be able to recognize what it’s real and what it’s not, what is and not broken in half anymore. She doesn’t know if she will ever be able to obtain the latter, but she knows that only by getting back the former, she will have the confirmation to her doubts.

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Omg am dead and I finally managed to finish Hiraeth's bio FML.

I am so happy to be able to post this on the day that I finished the gameplay as wel, it was so emotional.

I hope you will enjoy this!

--Nemo

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template by @arcandoria; abridged profile template by @lairofsentinel)

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

WEDNESDAY WIP

(….)

Jacob grabbed Dorothea by the wrist, and dragged her in the nearest empty room.

“I always knew you were a barbarian, but now I know that you have also gone out of your mind in this past century!” she hissed, yanking her arm away. “I ought to have the Sheriff cut your head off for what you have just done! How dare you lay your hands on me in front of the entire Court?”

“I agreed to come to Elysium and respect your conditions, but I never said I was going to speak in front of those pompous buffoons that you surround yourself with!”

A look of pure indignation flashed on the Dorothea’s face, transforming her usually soft features in a mask of hostility.

“I will oversee these slights toward my Court this time and this one time only, Baron. Now speak, and do it ever so quickly, before my patience wear even thinner than what it already is!”

Nostrils flaring, both Jacob and Dorothea stood their ground, refusing to lower their gazes, as if in doing so they were asserting their dominance over the other.

Yet, the Baron of East London was fighting against each instinct in his body that made him want to take her in his arms and bury his face against her shoulder and golden white hair, the same way she did when he had just awaken from his Embrace.

When he was turned - when he was sired- it happened without the consent of the then Prince of London.

And Dorothea saved him from being killed for the mere crime of existing, interceding for him at Elysium.

She took him in with Arno and helped him navigate those first nights.

Chest rising up and down as his mind flew back to the present, Jacob tried to clear his head and think straight - something that always seemed impossible when she was around him.

A knock on the door made them both turn their head at the same time.

“My Prince?”

Dorothea’s eyes softened at Arno’s voice.

Despite the rest of the Court being busy dancing away, she knew her Sheriff would have his eyes peeled on the one that could potentially be cause of mayhem.

“Worry not, Sheriff,” she answered back with the most neutral voice she could muster. “I will be fine. Just make sure that none is to cross this threshold while I am convening with the Baron,”

She knew Arno would weight every possibility before doing as he was told. But she knew that he trusted her, and soon enough, she heard his switf steps walk away from the door.

Only then, Dorothea crossed her arms against her chest and turned to look at the kindred in front of her with barely disguised hatred.

“Now, speak.”

Despite the irritation starting to build in his chest again at the arrogant tone in her voice, a part of Jacob’s dead heart was bleeding at the coldness in her hardened stare.

Her eyes were like two diamonds, just as gelid, just as hard, just as transparent in the emotions they concealed within.

And he saw nothing there but a freezing chill-inducing emptiness.

She hadn’t always been like this.

There had been a time where she would look at him with warmth compassion and kindness -well, as kindly as a kindred could.

That time had long vanished, and he knew that his action had been the cause for that warmth to disappear.

He would find a way to atone for the pain his sins had caused her. He had sworn it on his sister's grave.

But now only one thing mattered: her safety.

“You will do better to heed the words I’m about to speak, Dorothea. You are in the danger. All of you. All of us. You and I, your precious Sheriff-“ he added with a tone that reeked of venom. “Lucia, Ezio and Federico. Everyone single one of us is in danger. Every. Single. One.”

Dorothea raised an eyebrow, painting an expression of incredulity on her face.

“Danger?” she murmured back, fighting to drown a small laughter of contempt. “I do not presume to know what you have been up to in the past decade, but I assume you might have noticed that we are constantly hunted down by the Inquisition and that danger is a daily hindrance for us all?”

“Sarcasm won’t make you safer, Dorothea!” Jacob growled, taking her by the shoulders. “You need to listen to me, because he is coming and he is coming for you, his sire!”

Dorothea’s eyes widened, her face turning even paler than how it normally was.

Had her heart been alive, it would have dropped in her chest.

She didn’t need Jacob to speak his name.

She knew exactly who he was talking about.

There were may people that wanted to see her dead, for the most different reasons: such was the price for being the Prince of London.

Dorothea was always mindful about the constant lingering presence of Mithras, hidden away in his century-long slumber but ever vigilant.

She always exercised healthy caution with the perennial presence of the Inquisition in the city, that rendered every Kindred’s life absolute Hell.

But nothing on that Earth could ever cause a chill in her stomach like the thought of her Childe - the man she herself had turned into one of theirs- on the path to find her and with the intent of coming for her head.

“It seems I was finally able to get your attention,” Jacob murmured, allowing a small smirk to appear on his lips.

“How do you know?” she whispered, barely able to breathe, as she quietly shook her ringlets in disbelief.

Jacob swallowed hard, relenting the grip around her shoulders.

“Hiraeth. I don’t know how that lassie managed to evade Hamartia’s sight, but she did and she told me. And she told me something more,”

Dorothea felt only dread at the tone of his voice.

“What more could she have told you?”

“He is not coming alone. He is backed up by the Sabbat. He is backed up by Kaecilius and Verona themselves,”

Dorothea let out a small gasp, her thoughts running immediately to Lucia.

If even half of what the Regent of the Chantry had ever told her was true about the Cardinal of Denmark and the Archibishop of Copenhagen...then Jacob was right, and they were as good as dead.

(....)

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OMG NEMO WRITING???

how is that even possible one might ask lololol

truth is, it's Wednesday, so I took the chance to just share something I have been working on in the past few days (the brain has been braining, than goodness for that tbh, because without my tablet I am utterly restless lololol).

SO YES, HERE YOU HAVE A SMALL WIP OF MY DRAFT FOR MY VTM!AU.

I truly hope to be able to finish ALL THE CHARACTERS template soon enough, because I cannot wait to share them all with you all! <3

in the meanwhile, I hope you will like this <3

--Nemo

[feeshies]

too early to make assumptions, but the fact that disney is rewriting captain nemo's backstory in their upcoming series so he steals his submarine from the english instead of building it himself feels gross to me

[nemolfc]

2024 taught me a lot of things but honest to god I am so fucking grateful for the people I've befriended here, telling the world that I obsess over 11 men playing ball is kinda hard but this community made me feel less weird, I love you all so much 🥹🫶🏻

happy 2025 ( despite everything lol )

with love ... tasnim aka nemo 🫶🏻

[nemolfc]

I appreciate everyone that likes and reblogs, no matter how many they might be, you guys are truly the reason I keep going!!! ❤️

[nemo-draco]

Having thoughts about Doey being not simply an amalgamation of Jack, Kevin, and Matthew with clear lines and control, but one being born out of that unwilling and traumatic ordeal. He has traits from each, some scant memories and sensory experiences from Before, but now he's not them, he's Him, and now he has to live with that. That three kids went into making him who he is, and they're kind of present but not, and now he's Doey, but who is Doey but this horrible start, this compounded pain and misery that still is trying desperately to be good. But is that his desire, or is it one of the boys? Will he ever get out from under that shadow, could he ever be forgiven for the terrible things that happened to make him or because he was new and confused and didn't know better?

He tries to be cheerful, because that's what's needed and sometimes even in hell there are kids being kids, doing silly stuff and cracking jokes, but it's hard to square with, because Something Horrible happened and...he's the only one left standing. The scientists aren't there, Harley's gone after Playtime falls. Who is there left to blame but himself?

Anyway, my AUs have some fun stuff going on.