#RIP Ofelia

[xxnashiraxx]

Snippet Sunday 🩸

I have been so busy these past couple of weeks and have not had a chance to post on a Wednesday, but making up for that today!

Thank you for all the tags over this past week, guys! Especially to @obsessedwhyyes @vividiana (I SAW YOU POST YOUR FIC, I'M ON THAT) @deadly-diminuendo @heylittleriotact @andromedaancunin @emmg -I hope I got everyone! 🖤

Here is a little snippet from Chapter 18 of With Stars to Fill My Dream! I'm a few words shy of 10k and I'm still not done 😬 Very close though! I still intend to post the chapter this coming Saturday, so I'm just juggling the ending since it was supposed to cut off at a certain event, but if I add that this chapter may turn into 15k and I don't think anyone needs a 15k chapter lol, so 19 will have my big cool secret that I'm excited to write!

Anyway! Here is just a bit from the creche! 🖤

A bump to her back shakes her out of the rapid devouring of self-hatred spreading into every cell in her body, stumbling and almost collapsing onto the ground below. “Watch it,” Astarion hisses, pressing up more firmly against her once her knees steady. “What are you-” “Draw your blade, we’re being surrounded.” “What blade? I have a goddamn knife, in case you haven’t noticed,” “It’ll be close combat soon enough,” He bites back bitterly. With cruel acknowledgement, she realizes he’s right, and she holds her dagger defensively, the feel of Astarion mimicking her stance as they lean on each other for support sending waves of confidence and dizzying uncertainty sparking through her veins. The pair of them really aren’t suited to this kind of punishing rhythm- the dance they weave teetering in and out of their favor with each blow and evasion. Constantly shuffling feet, ducking, and bending lend a kind of bizarre grace to each cohesive attack. He stabs, she parries. He parries, she stabs. A month ago, she’d been shaking in her boots at the prospect of some stranger following her through a dimly lit alley or confronting her for money. Now? She’s slashing her dagger and catching a chunk of githyanki ear in the cheek, sputtering and spitting the metallic liquid from her mouth onto the ground below. “Here, you need something,” Ofelia tosses over her shoulder, knowing he’ll hear her over the loud grunts of a woman who constantly swings her spear- as if she’d be lucky enough to land a successful hit on their cunning rogue. Ofelia presses the hilt of her dagger between gritted teeth before deftly swinging her lute to the front. It takes her but a moment to recall the spell, and the blink of an eye to choose something appropriate. Whether by her estimations or the surrounding enemies, she isn’t sure. Quick digits splay over the neck of the instrument with a prowess stemming from years of habitual repetition. The tune she defaults to when lost in thought—its weeping melody and slapping of skin to wood—floods her brain with familiarity. Like an old friend, it caresses her ears with a comfort long and lost. Emboldened by the teal magic that sinks into his pale skin, Astarion makes short work of the soldier before him with only the loud tearing of sinew and tissue being ripped from bone to indicate her termination. Ofelia turns to him, blood covering his face to paint his gaunt features in a shadowy mockery of the one she knows best. Polluting her thoughts of him, he does nothing but stare. If she’d been of clearer mind she would have paid more attention to the Inquisitor out of his periphery, elbows thrust backward as he lines his blade up with Astarion’s abdomen. “No!” She juts her hip out to knock him off balance, lute lowered in a measly attempt to block the blow. Aged wood and rusting strings do not, a proper shield, make.

If you're wondering what Ofelia strummed, yes it's the guitar solo from Bulls in the Bronx 🤙🏻

No pressure tags for my lovelies! 💗 @pinkberrytea @khywren @caffeinatedmunchkin @bby-bel-art @nerdallwritey @verbenaa @inkymoonbunny @elinorbard @badbloodwitch @justabiteofspite @bloodinwine @ladyduellist @preciouslittlebhaalbae @lanafofana @bardic-inspo @busy-baker @marlowethebard @alwaysmauria

[gggcherry]

chapter III: que no salga la luna.

/ extract /

He dropped to his knees, hands caressing her legs as he moved them under her dress as he gave her a lustful stare.

"Please, please, come back to me." He begged as he kissed the skin near her mount, she replied to him with a soft moan, "I promise I will be better, I will do anything you ask of me. Anything." He implored as he desperately tried to get her off her dress almost ripping off the fabric, Ofelia took his face off between her thighs, gripping his hair softly, "This is a Galliano, be careful." She said.

Felix stood quickly staring at her as he threw the dress across the room, admiring her body and soft tanned skin in just a black thong, he grabbed her by her hips, moving her up the bathroom sink her back awkwardly contorting to the mirror, their breaths mixing together as they stared at each other and gave each other open mouth kisses as if they wanted to breathe each other in. Ofelia admired every new detail on his face, nothing much had changed, just a small scar in his cheek, which she softly stroke as they kissed. Felix explored her body, trying to memorize all his favorite parts again, fondling her breasts and admiring her figure as he moved her thong to the side and entered her, this was heaven, and he was finally back in it.

[peyoso]

Here's a lil bit about my oc siblings for Ponyboy, the Hekatomnids if you will. They're mainly in the xmen au.

Mausolus

The eldest sibling and the one raised by their father Hekatomnos. He's not very expressive and often comes across as cold and apathetic which he very much can be. Like his father, Mausolus has little morals beyond his own code. He values efficiency and logic in navigating life and business but doesn't allow himself to be blind by it. If his plans fall through or someone proposes something better then he adapts. He also places his family above all and will always be there for his siblings even if it means abandoning his own projects.

He's Hekatomnos right hand man and personal assistant which he is very good at thank you. if any of his siblings ask then he will tell them everything they wanna know about their father's activities/plans tho <3

Eysa Alsaugardottir

Second eldest and takes after her father's more wild side. Her mother is an Icelandic woman who had a brief romance with Hekatomnos that ended mutually. Also sometimes her mom is magic. Eysa herself is pretty chaotic and thinks laws are just suggestions but she doesn't force anyone to go along with her if they ain't about it. Like she's ready to steal a car with Ponyboy, pick a direction, drive, and see what trouble they can get into but if Pony's like "hey I gotta wake up early tomorrow" then she's be like "no worries. lets just hit up this bar and hang out. play some darts and vibe." She's also a musician and occasionally tours with her band Kraka.

Ofelia Campo

Ella es Mexicana babyyyyy. Probably from Ensenada, Baja California (i havent really detailed her backstory yet rip). She's the youngest Hekatomnid and has a sensitivity to things that most people would find irreverent. She's compassionate and cares about making a difference no matter how small with a stubbornness. Ofelia cares about the little guy, the things that are often overlooked, and has a strong sense of justice that sometimes brings her into conflict with her more morally ambiguous family members but not always (being lawful ≠ being moral after all and Ofelia isn't as naive as people like to think she is <3).

[wtf-a-psychoanalysis]

New TikTok!!

This is Ofelia, an oc based off my rabbit (rip I miss her every day) she’s training with Katsuichi ever since she arrived mysteriously. She’s from New Spain and once she learns enough Japanese she’ll probably tell others how she got there

Another drawing of them they’re a bit younger here

The link

[ur-such-a-beautiful-freak]

Autism & Guillermo del Toro

While some light research of "Guillermo del Toro autism" doesn't get many results, other than complaints and praise for The Shape of Water, it is apparent that many of his characters are autistic.

Aurora || Cronos (1993)

Aurora is near-mute, but has a lot of agency despite this. She isn't afraid to kill a bug or help Jesus defeat De la Guardia. In fact, she's the main heroine of our story, despite her silence. She shows intense feelings, especially of love for her grandfather, shown in scenes such as where she reaveals shes ripped the head off her beloved teddy bear to put the Cronos device inside. She's incredibly smart for her age and very capable, but I believe her (maybe not optional, but definitely not permanent) silence is vindictive of her autism. I cannot figure out what her special interest would be, though.

Chuy || Mimic (1997)

Chuy is another one of Guillermo del Toro's strong children. Shown first playing spoons incredibly skillfully and crafting creatures out of wire, Chuy has unique interests. He can tell the exact type of shoe down to the size because of his grandfather, and he has the ability to perfectly mimic the Judas' cry. He's nearly silent but not always, and he seems unaware of the rules of the world, leaving his home and entering the subways seemingly unaware of the danger. Upon watching a man get sucked into a gutter, he barely reacts. One pivotal scene showing his autism would have to be when he's trapped in the elevator shaft and has a meltdown. He also speaks in a somewhat unique manner. His special interests are obviously playing spoons and shoes.

Ofelia || Pan's Labyrinth (2006)

Ofelia is yes another child character who shows a lot of agency, going against what practically everyone tells her to follow her own path. But she's also very bookish, obsessed with her fairytales so much she believes anything the fantastic tells her. She crawls through the mud and talks back to adults, keeping a somewhat quiet demeanor otherwise. I believe her special interest is fairtales.

Newt || Pacific Rim (2013)

Not a child, but worth mentioning anyways, is Newt. He's obsessed with Kaiju, to the point of drifting with one multiple times (and eventually.. living with one?). He speaks fast and erratically, he knows every indexical fact about Kaiju, and he's obviously insanely smart. He's, however, balanced by his childlike wonder at everything. His love for kaiju is, of course, his special interest.

Hope you enjoyed my analysis! I'm missing plenty of characters simply because I haven't seen his full repertoire yet! But as an autistic person, I love to find it in everything else!

[alltheverses]

[ID: thumbnail is a drawing of a dog curled up on itself, asleep. /id]

Ofelia by Kiltro

(It's a light, it's a light, it's a light, it's a light)

(It's a light, it's a light, it's a light)

It's a light, it's a light, it's a light, it's a light

It's a light, it's a light, it's a light, it's a light, it's a light

Think of a lot of things in the nights, you know?

I never sleep when you're gone

Caught in my obstinance

It's curious, what still keeps me up

It′s a soliloquy

Is there truly no one listening?

Do I run?

Stick here for life, I don't write

I needed more

Oh, easy come, easy go

Take it all from me

Easy come, easy go

Take it all from me

I think quite a lot of us in the nights, you know?

I never fuss when you leave

For all of my obstinance

It′s penitence, I act as you seem

I love like a smoking gun

Ripped a shot, then I hid and run from thе scene

You're sick of your lifе, I don't lie

The ones you need

Oh, easy come, easy go

Take it all from me

Easy come, easy go

You take it all from me

Easy come, easy go

Take away the wine? please

Easy come, easy go

You take them all from me

Said you love to think that I don′t know your reasons anymore

You said you love to think that I don′t know your reasons anymore

And I could disregard the nights like this you're never at the door

You sent me a ride, how am I? I needed more

Ofelia

Ofelia

Loves you so

Loves you so

Ofelia

Ofelia

Loves you so

It's alright, it's alright, it's alright, it's alright, it's alright, it's alright, it's alright, it's alright

It's alright, it's alright, it's alright, it's alright, it's alright, it's alright, it's alright, it's alright

It's a lie, it's a lie, it's a lie, it's a lie, it's a lie, it's a lie, it's a lie, it's a lie

It's a lie, it's a lie, it's a lie, it's a lie, it's a lie, it's a lie, it's a lie, it's a lie

It's a lie, it's a lie, it's a lie, it's a lie, it's a lie, it's a lie

[thatscarletflycatcher]

I have been trying to organize my thoughts about this, and I think I have arrived to a decently coherent formulation:

The guiding principle for the naming of a child is remembering that a child is not your THING but a PERSON that was entrusted to you.

What makes a name weird or unacceptable and not just rare or unusual (I absolutely dispute that just because a name is unusual then it is weird, with the negative connotations that implies) is not that:

A) other kids will make fun of it: since when the response to bullying is "you shouldn't have made yourself bully-able" instead of "bullying is wrong and children must be educated against it"? or

B) that it will put them at disadvantage in the world: you cannot avoid prejudice for every single thing. My very Catholic parents had a Biblical Name + Saint Name convention, that would seem extremely harmless upon simple inspection, but an antisemitic coworker of my dad was scandalized that he had given his children, God forbid, Jewish names. You never know if your child will emigrate somewhere where that name won't be as accepted, or simply the naming conventions will change, or someone horrible that shares that name will become well known (rip to all the boys born between 1910 and 1936 named Adolf).

There is a qualitative difference between picking a name out of contempt for the kid, for one's own amusement or egotism so that "my child will be THE ONLY PERSON IN THE WORLD TO CARRY THIS NAME" (this is where non culturally relevant elaborate spellings of common names go, and also humiliating names like Trademark), and picking the name in terms of a characteristic of the child, or a blessing you want to bestow upon them, or the traits of a person you want to honor.

And I think this distinction matters, because my observation of the British-American cultures in general is that it is a culture extremely averse to the "unusual" name. English speakers of Jane Austen so often have a fixation with Darcy's name being Fitzwilliam as something weird, strange, almost shameful, and funny. One gets the impression that any name that isn't VERY common is likely to be the subject of scorn.

I can pull focus a bit into my own culture (Uruguay), where what's considered normal and usual is much wider, for a series of reasons, and think we are very open minded, and then I remember how Venezuelans are mocked here (and frankly, in many places in Latam) for their love of the "weird" name.

I was surely shocked/amused personally one day when I went to renew my ID, and before me there was a Venezuelan immigrant getting his, whose name was Tutankamón (Spanish for Tutankhamun). But, you know, Uruguay in turn is a country that had from very early on a lot of immigration of people that were ideologically very anticlerical and refused to give their children Christian names on principle. I have met non indigenous people named with indigenous names or after indigenous deities (One of our recent ex-presidents was named Tabaré after the main character of a national poem. There was a folk singer named Osiris), a whole lot of Greek/Roman names (Héctor and Oscar and Mario) and names after politicians and inventors (Washington, for example, was an extremely common male name -at one point in the 90s the Board of Directors of the National Insurance Bank was ruled by a majority of men named Washington-, and there's historian Lincoln Maiztegui Casas, and we have soccer player Edinson Cavani after Thomas Edison) an abundance of Greek tragedy, concepts, and flower names for women (Like poetess Idea Vilariño, and I have met Ofelia and Liropeya and Iris and Demetria and Alba and Azucena)... so was that really fair of me? Most likely this guy's parents thought naming their son after a pharaoh was a way of thinking of him as great and kingly, the same way the parents of Maiztegui Casas thought that Lincoln was a man of many admirable qualities they desired their son to have.

I do have a horse on this race. I am a person who likes unusual names! but if I named my daughter Vitalina like one of my ancestors, it wouldn't be for any other reason that I wish her to be full of life. If I named a son Dante, it would be because Dante was a great writer and a man of deep thought and deep feeling. I fell in love with the Armenian name Siranush when I learned it means my sweetness.

So in the end I think we need to acquire both graciousness to accept people's names, AND an awareness that a name is a sort of gift and good wish we bestow upon another human being with just as much humanity and dignity as we ourselves have.

[aethuviel]

There’s a bit of a drought here because I honestly hadn’t had time to play Skyrim in over a week before yesterday.

But anyway, here’s Talvy finding and petting my childhood bunny.

[theperksof-beingalesbian]

So Ofelia died and I am not o fucking kay with that shit bitch excuse me somebodies going to catch these hands tonight

[le-gay-one]

My eyes are sweating.

Also, I’m crying.

[yourdailyqueer]

Ofelia Rodríguez Acosta (deceased)

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Lesbian

DOB: 9 February 1902  

RIP: 28 June 1975

Ethnicity: Cuban

Occupation: Writer, journalist, feminist, activist

Note: Considered one of Cuba's most famous social reformers

[xxnashiraxx]

Fic authors self rec!

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love 💖

Thank you for this!! I only have a handful that I've written, so I'll show them off below!

1. With Stars to Fill My Dream (BG3): My absolute favorite I've written! I love it very much- it's my baby, I love Ofelia, I love getting to write Astarion, I'm at 100k! It's all crazy, but I'm really proud of how far I've come! You can find it here on AO3 and here's the summary: A street-smart, musically inclined human girl with a tragic past gets abducted by a nautiloid after her painfully average shift at a retro singing diner. What's worse- putting your all into Olivia Newton-John and Travolta for lousy tips, or getting your guts ripped out by a gnoll? Or worse- getting turned into a hideous humanoid squid? Ofelia Montez will have to see if she can survive long enough to find out.

2. Kinktober Week 1 - Incubus Astarion (BG3): Okay... this one is self-explanatory. I'm honestly really proud of this one and I love it! You can find it here on tumblr. 😊

3. Kinktober Week 2 - Breeding Kink/Sex Pollen (BG3): Um... another self-explanatory one. It's great though, seriously! You can find it here on tumblr!

4. Kinktober Week 3 - Inappropriate Use of the Tadpole + (BG3): And another one lol. All of them were so fun to write though, and really helped me develop Ofelia and Astarion's relationship in WSTFMD and how I'd like their trajectory to go! I cherish all three of them! You can find it here on tumblr!

5: Baby Please Come Home (Fairy Tail): A non-BG3 entry! I wrote this fic one-shot last year around this time- I honestly love it, it's short and sweet and cute and Christmassy. I miss my Nalu stuff sometimes, especially with 100 Year Quest being out, but I'm sorry I just got possessed by the vampire and I just can't get him out of my system 😞 You can read it here on AO3!

I got another ask from @caffeinatedmunchkin and I just want to say thank you to you both!!! 💗💗

[that-dead-shit]

Troy: What's the easiest way to steal a man's wallet?

Alicia: Knife to the throat?

Nick: Gun to the back?

Ofelia: Poison in his cup?

Jake: You're all horrible.

[actually-nikola-tesla]

just watched pans labyrinth by guiermo del toro and i'm not sure how to feel

[cadiacore]

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡ night sky: chapter three: part one | ruhn danaan x fem!reader

warning(s): swearing, vulgar language, implied smut, mention of drugs, mention of alcohol, fluff, insecurities, and a small amount of angst.

a/n: hello everyone, y'all thought I was gonna disappear again didn't you? well, nOPe. this is a very short chapter but I thought I could split up the chapters a bit and give you a taste of what's to come in the next part. I seriously have no clue how many parts this is going to have but I know I'm getting closer to the end. right now I believe we are at the halfway point. stay tuned for more! I did not edit this, this is raw from my brain bc yk, i should be doing schoolwork lol. also a huge shoutout to my beloved friend, @ofelia-writesxox for encouraging me to stick with my instincts with this series. thank you.

wc: 704

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“What just happened?” Hunt asked. Ruhn ran a hand through his dark hair and blew out a breath, 

“Y/N just found out that I’m her mate,” he said, 

The room went quiet except for the hushed voices of his sister and his mate. If Y/N didn’t want to be his mate, he understood. The parties, the drugs, and the alcohol could be too much for her. He would give it all up for her in a heartbeat. Ruhn would do anything to have her back in his arms but if she didn’t want him…

Ruhn was snapped out of his thoughts when Y/N walked back into the room but breezed past everyone and up the staircase. Within seconds, he jogged up the stairs after her, “Y/N?” 

She walked into her room but didn’t shut the door. He took that as a cute for him to go in after her. Ruhn had never seen her so quiet, she usually opened up to him and told him everything about how she was feeling. Y/N never ignored him. Now that she was ignoring him that sent alarms through his mind. Had he fucked up?

When Ruhn shut the door, he watched as she sat on the edge of her bed and looked up at him. Something twinkled in her eyes but he couldn’t figure out what. The silence that surrounded them became suffocating so he said, “You don’t have to accept the mating bond,” he paused, “I won’t be mad. I’ll understand.” It took everything in him to not show how bad he wanted her to accept the bond or to say she would stay. If she did leave, Cathona spare him, he wouldn’t be able to look at another female for a very long time.

Y/N stood from her bed and walked to him, his heart pounding against his chest, “I want you Ruhn. I’ve always felt drawn to you and your kindness drew me in more. I think that’s why the bond finally clicked in when it did,” she cupped his cheek with her palm and looked at him with all the love in the world. Fuck, his heart swelled with the love this female was showing him.

“How long have you known?” she asked. He knew the whole time. The first night he met her, he knew. That tug against his ribs and the pull to her made him understand that Y/N was his mate. When he looked into her eyes for the first time, it was like the floor had been ripped away and he fell.

“A month,”

She watched him and he watched her. One second he was examining the planes of her face and the next his lips were on hers. His arm snaked around her waist and pulled her closer to his chest. His fingers tangled in her beautiful dark hair and gently tugged. A soft, sweet moan fell from his mate’s lips, making Ruhn’s cock grow harder with need. To be buried deep inside her�� fuck.

Y/N pulled away first, her lips swollen and her eyes heavy with lust, she looked up at him, “I think we need to go back down to the party. We can accept the bond later,” she said breathlessly. Her palms were flat against his torso and he couldn’t help but think of all the ways he could put those hands to use. She had a point though, they did need to get back down to the party and celebrate with his sister. 

“I think Bryce would be pissed if we fucked right now,”

Y/N laughed, “Yeah, she would cut your dick off and feed it to you,” 

He didn’t doubt Bryce would too. 

If he did fuck his mate right this minute, he would feel guilty about it afterward. He knew he needed to be with his friends and family and not fucking. Ruhn really did want to please her, make her scream but he had brother duties to attend to. He didn’t just want the sex, it was the intimacy that he craved. Seeing someone for who they truly are and loving them regardless. That’s what love should be built on. 

to be continued...

[midearthwritings]

The Lovers' Three Swords

It is said that you become conscious of what you have only when you lose it. Ofelia almost lost Kíli.

Words Count : 2,749

Pairings : Kíli x Ofelia (OC), slight Kíli x Tauriel if you squint really hard.

Warning : Angst, Canonical Events (but not too canon), Injury, Near Death Experience.

Author's Note : So obviously this is set during BotFA. This is pure angst. From beginning to end.

Also, the title in itself does not make much sense unless you know the meaning of Tarot Cards. I'm kindly inviting you to check the meanings of The Lovers and the Three of Swords.

Snowflakes were falling from the sky at a slow pace, delicately landing onto the cold ground. Everything looked so pure, immaculate. The rocks covered in white, the scattered goblins’ limbs, the crown prince struggling to breathe. Immaculate. 

The few sun rays that peeked through the clouds shyly made the snow shine like thousands of tiny diamonds. Ofelia had never seen diamonds before. But neither had she needed to handle a sword. So, perhaps the day would come when she would lay her eyes upon one of these precious stones.

She, too, looked immaculate, despite the blood that had splattered onto her soft face and ripped garments. Although, she did not know whose blood it was. Hers or theirs? It did not matter when she quickly pulled her blade out of one of those vile creatures to bury it into yet another one of them.

It was messy because she could not aim properly, her lack of skills causing her to tumble backward. Ofelia gasped in surprise when her backside hit the hard ground, sending sharp sparks of pain into her entire body. Or was it in fear at how vulnerable and helpless she now was, at the mercy of those who wanted nothing more than to spill her blood? 

There was no place for tears or thoughts in a battle. It was only about surviving or dying. As she watched a goblin charging in her direction while she desperately tried to reach for her sword, discarded further away, there was only one thought that crossed her mind: she would die.

Goblins were fast. Terrifyingly so. It was on her within a few seconds. Ofelia cried out, her feet kicking at the thin layer of snow beneath her. Her fingertips brushed against the cold metal of her sword’s handle. She cried out again as if to encourage the weapon to come closer. Of course, it did not. So, the poor hobbit kicked harder, sending the goblin onto the ground.

Ofelia thought she would die, but she would not. Not yet. She grabbed the sword tightly and moved back onto her feet. Inside her chest, she felt her heart swelling with fear as she lifted the blade above her head. If she aimed right, she could get rid of it. Kíli had taught her how to aim properly.

Kíli.

“What are you doing with that stick of yours?”

Ofelia turned around, her arms lifted above her head as she readied herself to hit the nearest tree trunk with a thick stick. It was easy to pretend it was an enemy, another troll perhaps. And the stick was heavy and long, like a sword. Not that Ofelia had ever handled a sword. There were not many hobbits that carried weapons around the Shire.

It was easier to pretend when no one looked. And looking—staring even—, that the dark-haired prince did really well. Ofelia’s arms dropped to her sides in defeat, her wooden sword hitting the ground.

“It is not a stick,” she explained softly, “it is a weapon. I, too, need a weapon”.

At Kíli’s roaring laughter, Ofelia felt her cheeks heat up. Unfair. It was mean and unfair. Sadly, she dropped the stick—the simple, idiotic stick— and began to walk back to the camp. 

Behind her, the thunder died down. She heard twigs and leaves cracking as the younger prince walked fastly, catching up with her.

“Oy, Feli!” he called, grabbing Ofelia’s wrist gently. ���Please do not be mad. I didn't mean to offend you.”

“These are not proper apologies,” she snapped. “And do not call me Feli!”

The soft caress of Kíli’s rough fingertips on the sensitive skin of her wrist sent shivers down her spine.

“My apologies, Feli,” the prince declared solemnly. Although, she could hear the grin in his voice. “Allow me to make it up to you?”

The offer made her turn around to face him. Ofelia gave him a questioning look, eager to know more.

“How so?” she asked.

She stayed still and quiet when he began to look around them, his eyes scanning the area. Finally, after a quick study of their surroundings, he bent down and picked up another stick. Not as thick and slightly shorter than the one she was playing with a few minutes prior.

With a big smile plastered on his face, Kíli handed it to her. Ofelia took it hesitantly, her eyes still full of questions.

“Let me teach you how to fight.”

And so he had taught her. Every single night, they would both disappear. And, hidden from anyone’s view, they would train with wooden sticks. It had been hard, at first. But Kíli had been patient with her. 

It had gone on for weeks, months even, until Kíli had deemed that she was skilled enough to have her own sword. One of his swords. The same one that collided with the goblin’s throat and sent thick crimson liquid everywhere to soil the ground and herself a bit more.

As she stared down at the creature’s lifeless body, Ofelia mentally scolded herself. She should have gone with him. She should have followed Kíli and Fíli. Poor Fíli, he who was battling against himself to stay awake. 

Everything around Ofelia seemed to slow down when she stopped to consider that maybe Kíli was also dying somewhere. She felt her guts clench and the urge to throw up as a lump formed in her throat. She needed to find him.

Guided by only her feet and the wind’s soft whispers, she began to run. Clutching her sword as if her life depended on it—because it did—, she ran through the dozens of goblins that surrounded her, her blade dancing haphazardly in the air in a weak attempt to hurt anything that ventured too close to her.

“You must hold onto it tightly, Feli. But not too tight, or else it will be a bother and hurt you. Relax your fingers a bit more... Aye, perfect.”

The contrast of the cold snow beneath her feet and the leather burning her palms was overwhelming, but Ofelia could not bring herself to loosen her grip, was it only slightly. 

“Do not be so stiff, you have to rela- no, not too much. Here, just like that, alright? Great. Now hit.”

Ofelia’s muscles were aching with how tense she was. She swung her sword again in an all too painful movement. Her head was pounding. Was she running for his life, or hers? Perhaps both.

Everything looked the same, covered in pure white snow. Ofelia was pretty sure that she had come here at least twice already. A voice, coming from deep inside her heart, shouted at her that she should have never left the Shire. There was no place in this war for a simple hobbit lady such as herself. There was no place amongst dwarves and elves, men and orcs, for a little hobbit.

“It is not easy, using a sword, Feli. It is alright to make mistakes. Everyone does. Mahal, I do not have enough fingers to count how many times I made mistakes. But, it will be worth it, in the end. You will see, Feli.”

And once she would find him, it would be worth every cut, every blister, every tear. Firmly planting her feet on the ground, her lungs feeling too tight from how much she had run, she screamed his name. She called for the prince, snowflakes crashing onto her face, hoping that he was still alive enough to hear her and call back.

It was not Kíli who answered. At first, Ofelia thought it was an echo, sending her unanswered cry back to her. But it was not. It was an equally desperate voice, one that did not belong to her or Kíli. A voice filled with pain and fear.

Ofelia shivered and began running again. This time, she followed the foreign voice. Whoever it was that was calling after the prince must have known where he was. Hopefully.

It was hard, running in the snow. Inevitably, she slipped and fell, her chin colliding with the ground. Inside her mouth, her teeth sank into her cheek and soon she could feel the unpleasant coppery taste of blood. 

 Ofelia hissed in pain. But there was no time for pain, no time to stumble or fall. Once more, she heard someone calling Kíli's name. Louder, this time. She was getting closer to it. Closer to him. It was enough to pull her back up. 

 In the fairy tales children were told, no one ever spoke about how unreal and slow everything felt whenever the hero was fighting. Nor would they speak about how distorted everything looked, including distances. 

Ofelia did not think she was the hero, not even close to that. She was a hobbit from the Shire. A short creature who lived on good food and a pretty garden. But when she stepped forward, the prince and a red-headed elf—Tauriel— entering her view, she felt so far away. She felt as if she would never be able to reach them, no matter how many miles she would run.

 Further down, Kíli and Tauriel fought side by side. It looked beautiful, Ofelia thought. Ironically beautiful. They moved so easily as if they had been made for that and that only. It looked as if they were dancing a dance that could cost them life.

One of the Orcs was creeping behind the prince, ready to strike. The little lady felt her heart pounding against her chest, yelling at her to do something, anything. But she would never be able to reach them in time.

“Kili!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, hoping it would catch his attention. It did not. Although, her eyes locked with Tauriel’s green ones.

Ofelia had heard of the beauty of elves before leaving her beloved Shire. And she had witnessed it in Rivendell and when they had been held captive in Mirkwood, and again in Laketown when Kíli was ill. Tauriel was one of the most beautiful elves she had ever seen.

Quickly, she indicated the creature behind Kíli. Tauriel’s eyes followed the direction of her finger, and although Ofelia could not hear a single word, she was pretty sure that the elf had warned Kíli because he swiftly moved away.

 Caught into another frenzy, Ofelia rushed down the stone stairs, careful not to slip again. She was not so sure that she would survive it this time. 

Orcs were tall, way taller than her. It was easy to take down a goblin when it was almost her size. But this...It was monstrous. Next to it, Ofelia looked ridiculous. Yet, a spark of bravery shot through her body and she bolted towards it, burying her blade in its calf. She knew, deep inside, that it must have felt like a mosquito bite. Yet, she felt a certain pride when the Orc hissed.

 It did not last long because, in one swift movement of its leg, it sent her a few feet away. 

“Ofelia!”

The sound of his voice ringed in her ears and she looked up. Kíli was there, right in front of her. And she could not help but smile brightly at the sight of him.

“Kíli…” she breathed out. And like a toddler who craved their mother, she reached out for him, tried to pull him close to her. 

  But there was no place for love here. Before she could register what was happening, a greyish hand snaked around Kíli's throat and dragged him away from her. 

The prince looked worn out, exhausted. For how long had he been fighting before Ofelia had arrived? Was the blood on his face his or theirs? Tauriel, too, looked as if she had not been able to rest for centuries. Her breathing was erratic. They were not dancing anymore. They were dying. Both of them.

The Orc's blade was pressed against Kíli's chest, preparing itself to dive into the soft flesh.

She looked around for her own weapon. But the Gods were not on her side anymore, and she stared at the shining steel that laid at the Orc's feet. And she knew that the creature was aware of her helplessness when he gave her the coldest and cruelest smile.

“No!” she cried out, standing up to try and get her sword back. “No!”

The little lady did not have time to go too far when two slender, yet strong arms wrapped around her middle, keeping her on the ground. 

Tears began to run down her cheeks, bruising the soft skin. She tried to fight, tried to free herself from the strong grip.

“Ofelia!” Tauriel begged, struggling to keep her down.

Hobbits did not have the same eyesight as elves, nor could they hear the same thing they did. But when the blood-stained blade plunged into Kíli's body, she swore she had heard the sound of his skin being ripped in two. And although she was at a good distance from the prince, she saw his eyes turning completely black due to the pain, his pupils twitching disgustingly.

 Behind her, Tauriel sobbed. Ofelia felt the elf's nails digging into her skin. But all she could focus on was the tiny red droplets that glided down Kíli's body to crash onto the pure white snow. Immaculate.

Ofelia screamed. She screamed and it burned her throat, sucking all the air out of her lungs. She screamed until her jaw began to hurt and her voice broke into tiny sharp pieces that sliced through her heart. She screamed until Kíli's body hit the ground, his hair spread out beneath his head in a dark halo.

Death was not fascinating, nor was it intriguing. It was devastating. Although, Ofelia could not tear her eyes away from the prince. She watched as his chest rose and fell in a quick rhythm as he struggled to breathe. She could not look away from him, even when she saw the Orc coming closer from the corner of her eye. She could not look away either when Tauriel tightened her arms around her. 

For the second time this day, Ofelia thought she was about to die. And she wished to die looking at Kíli, son of Dís. But she would not die, not yet. Nor would Tauriel. 

The Orc—perhaps it had a name, Ofelia did not care—fell before them. A dagger was stuck in his skull, the handle pointing proudly towards the sky. It was dead.

Slowly and carefully, the short lady extricated herself from Tauriel’s protective embrace, and like a wounded animal, she crawled towards Kíli. She ignored the voices behind her to listen to his breathing.

“Oh, Kíli…” she whispered, her hand cupping his cheek delicately. 

The young heir grabbed her wrist, his fingers shaking. The pained moaned he let out broke her heart a bit more. Without help, he would die. Without help, she would lose him.

Ofelia turned around sharply, her eyes falling onto Tauriel and another elf, one with blond hair.

“Help him,” she ordered, her voice sore from the screaming. None of them replied. They gave her the look. The one that meant there was nothing left to do. Angrily, she pointed a finger at Tauriel. “You healed him once! In Laketown. Do it again! Do it again!”

“Ofelia…”

It was lower than a whisper, barely audible. And maybe Ofelia had imagined it. Maybe she had imagined all of it. She hoped so.

Kíli moaned again, louder this time. And perhaps she acted on impulse again. Perhaps her decision would be his ending. But at least, she would have tried. Ofelia decided that Kíli would not die, not yet.

Determination painted on her face, Ofelia stood up and pulled Kíli to his feet. He screamed in pain, hurting her ears.

“What are you doing?” Tauriel asked. “You’ll hurt him even more!”

It was true. Kíli was in pain and Ofelia could not even imagine how he must have been feeling at this moment. But she ignored his crying, and she ignored their looks. The little hobbit lady began to walk away, supporting the dwarven prince as best as she could.

“Kíli needs help or else he will die,” she explained, droplets of sweat already beginning to prickle on her forehead. She looked back at them one last time and pronounced the same words that Kíli’s own brother had used the first time he had been about to die:

“I will carry him if I must.”