#The years have passed like swift draughts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

libidomechanica · 11 months ago

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Untitled # 10941

A curtal sonnet sequence

Upon the Guide-books, rhymes, and think on. Leant to each other thee,—cresses that dare equal with the heart, and all things rushed like a miser counts his golden hair. This morning sunny, for Gothic ruin and a contradiction; the unblunted dart of Eros: but though t is true, you don’t they know not where it shall be firm? Who sees his love, nor shepehearde more. The key to every little tent of blue which you can’t complain of?

Touching upon the sun-clouds that tear! That God who gave it! The bat, the game of theyr cote. We’re not just buying time wakes a draught— young Semele such richness never yet betoken’d wrack to the bars, and me wonder’d at midnight blast, in swells unmitigated, still hems him round the self-same way, for none is the timorous yelping of the clear stream came of purple throat. But even now upon the blue slips on the spouse too kind.

And with much empressement: ’-the lamps of Western kings of which I have been a dead so soon grow cold. I pass my evenings in her stations, exulting swift delight in silence let fall, most Women have no dædale heart: why is easy to determine: although publicly important outwork of the pale sky, gone under twenty thousand years; it is nothing bright eye. Not at all; my music the harmonious theory.

Judging by his foly one did fall, the tocsin of the same door their tryst. Of the earth we are! Name let’s get some time, and, neither know not; but huge houses dwell the caique was brought hers gave, because in sweet seals in fiction. At which I doubt extremely pale, pale as snowdrops blowing, so prime, so swell, so nutty, and his wrath fierce, and huge tombs worse—mankind, who is the strange tradition; and thus Pope quotes the porch, they grew of years ago.

’ Nay, ’ quoth she, behold two Adons dead! Historians, heroes, kings, fanning they do not go gentle squeezed himself in Stella see, that was of a fascinating hesitation,—fair flower enough to deem no worse. A soft air, or proudlier prancing wings, and strangers in my face is full of couetise, and could bear not: t will transpire, no doubt the bravest cowers checkered with the monstrous swell of vision went in wing’d St.

And goodnes taken in forest-fruits, and threw warm gules on Madeline: to scare thee to my cotage thou wouldst hunt the wall, I will permit my memory of dreaming sun. Biting my trewand pen, beating with holy voice! Disorder breeds by heating Toies, your real Griefs, and write rhymes, and die of nothing else he brands with marks of sin on your mom did not fall asleep just after night, alone, I marry the bed. She catches.

This narration of payment ere the Dublin shouts—and London when the Beadsman, after sun; love’s the first the damp grass myriads bade adieu to all. Call him a cheat. The grass. ’ Baba eyed Juan, puzzled all in vain he heard, that not a shame to see such logic will lead to loss without the circumstances which still it was! And a few leaves an infant plays. Which he leant, wretched Hens about me on the Dunghill. One difficult.

Forgetting in the burning eye did hotly overlook them, outstripping wall is high, so it was, she has told, I joy; but the old negro told him like his Delphic lyre; her kisses buys my heart is all truths must, the morrow-day; but still are many a lover with a butcher’d in an amber. And robes sweet and square fast flashing chariot, rolling what you will say what you do than what you see. And as she treats all the truth.

Now will come on its either side lay kill’d was melted like a spiritual and clear; and not thine may live when they thus sprang from those who love to curl round run as it may be easier done than smile of beauty glide, like antique gold, devouring all mankind their proud the whole world had the sacks, we broke the season, upon thy verge it is that I want the power that is already spent: for as the shade. To give maiden Aunt.

And near him; nor, as we once thought of the men who love to curl round run as it may, and look’d so dreamingly. Had not rain’d; then ask’d her girdle, as the fleet-foot roe that’s her warmed jewels to wear! He had made her freight. Beware! The frail one’s advocate, there’s my gentlemen in any thing, however, this body to the ways. Catch, ere she endure—impossible, because the night or might have been told in you, twenty times cry so.

Or who is but bringing things, until preferment, coming would spoil much good philosophic passion you disdain; throwing to do, save a proud rider on so proudly eyed: fortune plainly made to bow, she clepes him king of the king him mulberries saw. What dilettante, delicate-handed priests, to put a fact and no poetic fable—just as a friar may accuse his vow, or as the sisters live and love of sway.

Tis dark: the iced gusts still for the use, herbs for the painting I fell in silvery and weariness or delicacy; all so nice, that made and beat: awake! Of thy fair head, and in the deadest things for very few financiers, though below his wings, two fan-like foule wagmoires ouergrast, that als we mought be inly knowe. A mere quiet air Proud Maisie is in his car, aloft, young a partner in the Nymphes doe bathe.

And filled the enumeration—gave her fair immortal, those unbelievers, but no less—the voice of your infant laughers mimicking them find out others bound, and so I kisses such a face of Doom. And in each features; the moss is growing water upon her bed. She trampled what then? Who watched wight. Colossus’ legs, and down into the follow’d through the parties to taste. Thy vows are all his great master, and strayen abroad.

In self-defence: this made his bloody drops of dew exhal’d to Phoebus, for a hundred swords to scare thee, where, like phantom-woman in their crimes; factitious passionless, but a bad graced our shore, young, handsome; and then a purer soul reflect the imagination shakes, which turn’d to their queen, ’ quoth Adon, you will! Who madest him thy choir, and eyes; false in legs, a heavy, yet unheard; his garments only a movie you saw.

That if I love their sleeping those eyes that dies with happy freedom, and comes by cause, ’-is what they long had touched her face a-washin; but Willie’s wife is new, commence with five slugs; and look’d at Juan was my wine; that loue she did; that is told.—His heart by night; still is large, I could wrench aught out of door hath taken tea in small-eyed China’s crockery ware and unencumber with furniture an exquisitely spired, snail- paced lives.

Height again, as from a shell-fish or from his mystic heaven wide scatter’d through as wide as if from their talk was of Caiaphas. Poor soul! In silence, and performance and tears, and outside lawn; scenes they lay the lash to Baba: but her colours do the knee might find the steam, as one that are young, and fire, through glitterand gold, mought they gang in more serious, threw herself at strife, which it enters to surprise, saw two fair creature wear!

Before our forest haunts, why left To give at evening, my sweet, like many clouds and winding sigh? Nature which drew all eyes may see, when they St. Lord Henry, link’d with care, averted half your parents, albeit they had not avow’d it had stirr’d him, and Gods great worth, of knights, half-legend, half- historic, counts his golden arrows of the timmer o’ yon rotten peaches on Orcas Island there ready for to thy native land!

In our soft sex and age-bent, sore distress of lackeys usher to thy tongue shall o’er the good old man selfe had been moved to such mought please, or did I see of leaves an infant’s heart. With words went echoing dismally through the gate, and, falling out from her wallet to her husbandship. Rob thy nest and no wave along the fair Fitz-Fulke! Some look’d, and clos’d the brink of such profusion in the argent revelry, with jealousy, down!

Whom Ida hyll dyd beare, that with fears, for men will that my trust and besides there. Since age is cold and quickly gone? Thy cheek begins to burn, then it wont, all for her! And in hand: about, and try to comfort dare complain of, or reproved; and this slippery pranck, ere Roffy could really shoulders in a rosy silk, that somewhat both without a name? To quench them with sober seemlihed gave utterance as he entered: Ha!

We needs must follow’d my advice! When we should hoist my blue Peter, ’ and proper home of every morning insects that doth appal. For oak and elm have plainly made for the unhappy climes is not dead: her heart is not for me. And there only my own soul conspiracy of an improper frame; spoilt, but burst into the yielding prey, and unobserved star, with buds, and budded Tyrian vest dyed purple, none distinguish me!

Go sleep, when life is o’er, and soon her woes the beauteous region of my mind, and all men, she wondered if each could bear; and as the ravenous hawk? Of the price would he quit his king in the woe, what dilettante, delicate your love of pleasures of true Truth would strike such puny doubters dumb as the sceptics who would novels gain by the sideboard’s stand—yet, like most meet for all askance of weariness and pitchy night and day.

But seeing at his elbow in a trice. Shape of your own thought of thought themselves most fearful, cautious, be not what we covet most; and besides the Westerne coste? Within some thousand living shoulders in anger, or in the end in lowliness of a sudden growth weigh’d on him she cast, my hat and gloves still be soon: there is a different far that men build is built with buds, and yellow sunbeam: near him, here, there not for these Cantos.

—But, pale and so I kisses from each lamp and shining rails: could seize the ridicules of peace or war; and the typing of the envier? As for his pay, he was wont of your vows, your lily-white hand, lass, in mine, then stood stone still. Not the lesson taught is still beheld, who nails him down upon a child of her infant joy! Their steps are brief. But the world its veterans rewards of continence, this poem will be thy saving any?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 8 #147 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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spxllcxstxr · 4 years ago

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Teaching a Moderately Old Dog New Tricks • S.B

(Gif not mine)

Request: could you do a older sirius x younger (tonks' age) reader, maybe he's in denial about liking her because he thinks he's too old but she doesn't think that way. — @msmb

Summary: The man you fancy has been avoiding you. Tonks gives you an idea.

Warnings: alcohol consumption, mention of cigarettes, kissing, older man/younger woman (but reader is Tonks’ age), light mention of remadora (does that need a warning?), Sirius is a bit self deprecating, heated make out, Moody’s all seeing eye

Word Count: 1.6k

A.N: Inspiration hit at 1am. Uhhh Kissing can either be well written or extremely cringe. I can’t tell what category my kissing is in, so possibly sorry in advance? OotP Sirius is so hot and I will love him forever. Hope you guys enjoy. Love you all❤️

****

“So how’re you and Sirius?” Tonks asks, her hair a violent shade of violet as she swings her legs over the arm of the couch at Grimmauld Place. She takes a sip of her daisyroot draught, excited for any news.

“I don’t know.” You respond, swirling your own goblet in your hand. “How’re you and Remus?”

You smirk as she almost chokes at the mention of the man of her dreams.

“I asked you first.” She shoots back after her coughing fit goes away.

“You’re annoying.” You take another sip.

“Cry about it.” Tonks huffs. “But don’t change the subject.”

“Merlin, I wish I had an answer for you.” Groaning, you run a hand through your hair. “He seems to be pulling away from me, yet again.”

“Ugh, men.” Tonks mimes a fake gag.

“I mean, he pulls me into a broom closet for a quick snog and now he won’t even stay in the same room as me!” You cry out.

The draught is sweet in your mouth as you down the rest of your goblet. “‘Ugh, men’ is right. I will never understand them.”

“At least you get a snog.” Tonks retorts. “Remus barely grazes my fingertips passing me a piece of parchment and suddenly he’s all pink and avoiding me for weeks.”

“Are they that daft, or are we just shit at flirting?” You pour yourself some more daisyroot draught.

The murky pink of the draught bubbles and sizzles near the top of the cup.

Grimmauld Place is mostly quiet, the kids were all asleep and someone paces in the room above. There’s faint laughing coming from the kitchen, but that could be one of the Black family portraits, so it’s no concern of yours.

“It can’t possibly be the latter because if I remember correctly, flirting was our specialty back in school.” Tonks winks from her stretched out position.

“Oh yeah.” You muse sarcastically. “All those people we managed to seduce at Hogwarts...”

“Hey! I snogged Penny Haywood seventh year!” She declares.

“It was a game of truth or dare! We all snogged Penny Haywood!” You exclaim, almost spilling your drink all over your robes.

“My point still stands.”

The house groans and creaks in your comfortable silence, Kreature’s dragging gait echoes through the corridor.

“Sirius has nice lips.” You sigh dreamily, your thoughts once again preoccupied by him. “Would love to snog him again.”

“You should.” Your friend replies. “At least one of us needs a proper love life.”

“But he won’t talk to me...” You childishly whine. Pouting, you drink from your goblet.

“Well maybe you should be the one that pulls him into the cupboard next time.” Tonks shrugs, waving her wand to fill her goblet once more.

“You’re brilliant, y’know that?” You perk up at her idea.

“I’ve been trying to tell you that since we were eleven, (Y/n). Can’t believe you’re just now admitting it.”

The night gets cut short after that, mostly because the two of you have work in the morning and the Ministry of Magic was already unbearable sober. Hungover at the office meant a lot more suffering than usual.

You’ve never been more thankful for Molly’s desire to put the gaggle of kids to work around the house.

Even when you get back from the Ministry the the next night, they’re all still galavanting with doxycide upstairs, letting the exhausted adults have a moment to relax.

That’s when you decide to strike.

There’s an extremely convenient and mostly empty broom closet on the ground floor close to the kitchen that is just ripe with opportunity.

Tonks gives you a thumbs up and shoots you a wink as she passes you and strides into the kitchen. You’re leaning against the doorframe, pretending to be preoccupied with checking your nails, but in reality, you’re watching and waiting for Sirius to come a little closer.

His black curls with the occasional strand of grey rest on his shoulders. His velvet burgundy blazer stands out against the dark wood and blue theme Grimmauld Place seems to really enjoy and embrace. You watch his gold pocket watch glimmer in the flickering orange candlelight and how he twists the rings on his fingers.

Your heart flutters at the mere sight of him.

He finally breaks away from his conversation with Remus before turning around and making his way towards you.

He struts closer, heels clicking against the floorboards and your hands jitter in excitement. You’ve never been one to initiate these types of things before.

“Alright, (Y/n)—“ Sirius starts, reluctantly nodding his head in greeting.

But since he’s within arm’s reach, you grab his soft lapels and pull him into the broom closet.

With a flick of your wand the door shuts and you’re plunged into even dimmer lighting.

Your hands are still tightly grasping at his lapels and you have to admit, you’re a little breathless as you fervently press your lips to his.

Your eyes flutter shut and you press your chest to his own, effectively pushing him harder against the wall. You moan, feeling him kiss back. He tastes distinctly of firewhiskey and cigarettes and you’re loving every second of it. His lips are addicting as they move in tandem to yours. Sirius’ hands trail up to the back of your skull, pulling you closer to him, something you enjoy and gleefully let happen. The closer to him you are, the better.

The heatedly deep kiss sends a thrill throughout your body. Here you are, snogging the man you’ve fancied since the day you met him, in a broom closet of headquarters. Instinctively, your heart skips a beat.

One of Sirius’ hands detaches itself from your hair and instead, trails its way down your body to rest on your lower back. A jolt of excitement sparks and flares up inside. Goosebumps erupt underneath his warm hand. He squeezes your body tighter, quickly taking control of the situation.

Unfortunately, air becomes something that you’re losing fairly quickly and when you reluctantly spilt apart, you’re extremely aware of his swollen red lips. They stand out between the dark hair of his beard.

You’re panting as you cling on to his blazer for stability. The moment your lips touched, your knees practically gave out.

“What was that for, poppet?” Sirius pants as well, grey eyes looking into yours.

“Merlin, Sirius, do I really have to spell it out for you?” You smirk, still breathless. “I fancy you.”

“You what?” His eyebrows dart up in surprise.

“I fancy you? Like I want to go out for a drink sometime. Or I guess, stay in for a drink since—“ You ramble.

“You can’t fancy me, (Y/n).” He interjects, hands slipping away from you.

You carefully remove your hands from his figure in return. “Oh.” Awkwardly, you stuff your hands into your pockets. “And why’s that, then?”

Anxiously, he begins to twist the ruby ring around his thumb. The broom closet feels a lot smaller than before and the burn of embarrassment feels even harsher.

“I think you know why.” Sirius evades the question.

Your brows knit together in both confusion and annoyance. “No, I really don’t know why, Sirius, so please enlighten me.”

“Godric, (Y/n)!” He cries out. “I’m an old ex-convict with a fuck ton of issues! You don’t want that kind of baggage!”

Sirius scowls, not at you, but at himself.

“You’re in your thirties, Sirius. If that’s old than Mad-Eye’s ancient.” You try your best to joke and make light of the situation.

However, you see that your attempt doesn’t work.

“Hey, I don’t care that you’re older than me. I like you because you’re this handsomely charming and charismatic guy that shares my issues with authority.” Hesitantly, you bring your hand up to his neck. He leans into your warm touch. “And I really like you.”

“I’d be more of a burden than a boyfriend.” He mutters.

“You’re no burden. Not to me.” You reply, stroking his beard. “Never to me.”

“I’m a bit rusty.” Sirius confides. “Haven’t had a partner since the seventies. And I’m not the same person I used to be.”

“Neither am I.” You shrug. “Mostly because back then I was a wriggling little lump.”

Sirius snorts.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” You question, tucking a few strands of stray hair behind your ear.

“I felt bad.” Sirius confesses, straightening out his blazer. “Felt like I was manipulating you by leading you on so I was trying to get you to hate me. Trying to convince myself to get over you.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t succeed in that endeavor?” You tease your bottom lip with your teeth, innocently looking at the man in front of you.

His grey eyes are kind and soft gazing into yours even after years and years of torture and misery.

He’s someone to admire.

“Getting over you is probably the hardest thing I’ve attempted.” Sirius laughs. “And I escaped Azkaban.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Sirius.” You muse, rubbing the back on your neck in embarrassment.

“Flattery will get me everywhere, poppet.” He winks in return, amused by your gesture.

“So can we give it a shot?” You ask, praying to Merlin he agrees.

“Sure poppet, why not?” He grins, his white teeth poking out from the intense red.

In a swift movement he has you flipped, your back now pressed to the wall as he passionately places his lips back on yours.

You hands tangle themselves in his wild hair, his sneaking around your waist. You tug at the locks and he hums in approval.

Suddenly there’s a large bang against the door causing it to shake on its hinges.

“Oi!” Tonks’ voice rings out.

Sadly, Sirius pulls away just enough to rest his forehead on your own. His breath hot on your face.

“Mad-Eye says that if any clothes come off he’s barging in there, so wrap it up!”

Your mutter out a curse as you attempt to untangle yourself from Sirius.

“Also (Y/n),” Tonks yells again. “knew you had it in ya.”

•

Sirius Black Taglist: @fific7 @quindolyn @msmb @lunalovecroft

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20 @amourtentiaa @cherie-draco

#Sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black imagine #sirius black fluff #the marauders x reader

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favoriteginger · 3 years ago

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So! That elvish library huh? With all those books?

Well, seeing as the books are in Sindarin and I am a huge lotr nerd I decided to translate them

Translations under the cut because this is gonna be a long one folks

The first book I translated was the one with the spells and such, because that was a good simple starting place.

Of the three pages we saw, the first two have two spells each and the third has one spell

The two spells on the first page refer to fire (naur): "Fire be for saving of us!" and "Fire against the wolf-horde!"

Now, we could read into this. But I'm pretty sure that these are both from the one scene in the Hobbit where they throw flaming pinecones at giant wolves. Plus, all the other phrases and stories and such are from lotr and related texts.

Onto the second page:

These two phrases are from the Doors of Durin scene in the Fellowship of the ring: "Elvish gate, open now for us!" and "Doorway of the Dwarf-folk listen to the word of my tongue!"

And the third page, with its singular spell:

This is the incantation Arwen uses to fend off the ringwraiths outside of Rivendell in the Fellowship movie: "Waters of the Misty Mountains, listen to the great word, flow waters of Loudwater, against the Ringwraiths."

Ok! On to the other books, which have much longer texts!

This first one is a Sindarin translation of Galadriel's Lament, which she sings in Quenya (another elvish dialect) when the fellowship leaves Lothlorien:

"Ah! like gold fall the leaves in the wind, long years numberless as the wings of trees! The long years have passed like swift draughts of the sweet mead in lofty halls beyond the West, beneath the blue vaults of Varda wherein the stars tremble in the voice of her song, holy and queenly.

Who now shall refill the cup for me?

For now the Kindler, Varda, the Queen of the stars, from Mount Everwhite has uplifted her hands like clouds and all paths are drowned deep in shadow; and out of a grey country darkness lies on the foaming waves between us, and mist covers the jewels of Calacirya for ever. Now lost, lost to those of the East is Valimar! Farewell! Maybe thou shalt find Valimar! Maybe even thou shalt find it! Farewell!"

The last section isn't shown in the video, but I assume that it's the text on the second page of the book.

And finally! The last Sindarin book we see in the library:

This last text is A Elbereth Gilthoniel, which is Sindarin song in praise of Varda (who's mentioned in Galadirel's Lament). The second page seems to be the second bit of the first page just copied and pasted, but here's the translation:

"O Elbereth who lit the stars, from glittering crystal slanting falls with light like jewels from heaven on high the glory of the starry host to lands remote I have looked afar from tree-tangled middle-lands and now to thee, Fanuilos, bright spirit clothed in ever-white, I will sing here beyond the Sea, beyond the wide and sundering Sea"

So yeah. Have some translations

Seeing as I am not fluent in Sindarin, I used Parf Edhellen for a lot of this. It's a pretty good elvish dictionary, definitely recommend

Also just, lore note: does the fact that all of these translations are not only in Sindarin but also come from the Lord of the Rings make lotr canon to Empires, at least partially? Like on top of the fact that Sausage has used Sindarin in relation to Xornoth before and the fact that Scott just straight-up named his empire Rivendell?

also hhhhhh this took me like an hour and a half and i lost all my work halfway through. the lengths that i go to for this series smh /lh

#empires smp #empires smp spoilers #smajor1995 #geminitay #katherine elizabeth #like seriously though y'all please don't let this flop #i had to redo almost all of it and i may have cried a little

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dru-reblogs-stuff · 1 year ago

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[image description: A photo of 2 large brown plaques resting on top of an industrial fridge filled with cans of alcohol and packets of meat. The two plaques have quotes which read

"I brought you mead to drink because it's traditional. And right now we need all the tradition we can get. It seals our bargain." Mr. Wednesday Neil Gaiman - American Gods

"I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth and meat and mead at my table, and pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you into dishonor. I swear it by the old gods and the new. Arise." George R.R. Martin, A Clash of Kings

The years have passed like swift draughts of sweet mead in lofty halls beyond the West. J.R.R. Tolkien

It burned in his spirit/ To urge his folk to found a great building,/ A mead-hall grander than men of the era. Beowulf

For each prize, aid us, o ye steeds,/ For the rewards, o ye wise, immortal, righteous ones;/ Drink of this mead, rejoice in it;/ Delighted go by paths on which the gods go. PRAPATHAKA VII iv. 7. 12.d

end ID]

It seems that you are inescapable. My dad and I are at a local meadery and your words are on the wall. Strangely, it makes me feel like we're drinking in good company.

That's glorious!

#eat all the things #drink all of them too #image described

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chrysalispen · 3 years ago

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iv. never give the heart outright

AO3 link HERE Chapter under cut.

====

The day Aurelia Laskaris left Gridania dawned damp and foggy: as mundane and unremarkable a sendoff as one could possibly wish. The heat wave had relented overnight and the wind with it, and the trees’ leaves hung still and sparkling with droplets of dew. Pale rays of early morning sun filtered through the low-hanging wisps of cloud and collected dust motes and small insects in their wake. The quality of it reminded her of L’haiya’s lace curtains, the way their softness and the delicate patterns and filtered sunbeams had always framed the sitting room windows of her girlhood home.

The driver of the chocobo carriage aimed to set out from the city before full daybreak. Thus she stood in drowsy silence along with half a dozen other passengers set to board, watching the lalafellin teamster as he and the Canopy’s porters secured the larger bags. Barring any unforeseen incidents, the carriage’s route would take them south past Quarrymill, through the marshes near old Amdapor, and south into the high desert of northeastern Thanalan until they reached Ul’dah.

It had taken her all of three days to conclude her affairs: there was, after all, no property for her to sell, nor any anxious relatives to wheedle her into remaining.

Watching the small man loop his handfuls of hempen rope to secure over boxes and bags and other people’s assorted belongings, Aurelia felt a certain twinge of wistfulness that she had not expected. The forest city was not quite home, but it had served as the closest thing she had to one for nearly five years. But it was not enough to keep her. The excitement of the road ahead had not left her, and she faced the morning with bright eyes and a clear mind. The sun was up and so was she.

Keveh’to did not share her optimism, that much was obvious with a mere glance. The Miqo’te stood at her side with an expression one could only describe as pained. His ears lay flat against his fluffy hair, and his fawn-colored bottlebrush tail lashed emphatic and agitated beats against her leg.

“I know I’ve asked you half a dozen times now,” he said quietly, “but are you absolutely certain about this?"

Her answer was the same as it had been each time he had asked:

“As certain as I shall ever be.”

“That isn’t reassuring.”

“Yes, well,” she felt a twinge of annoyance at his pessimism surface at last, “as one recalls, ‘twas you who made the suggestion that I consider further study afield.”

"When you told me you’d give the matter some thought, I didn’t expect you to come back to Miounne’s place the same day with a letter of introduction already scripted and sealed.” His arms folded over his chest and he stared up into the canopy. “E-Sumi-Yan must have had that letter already waiting to give to you, whatever he said.”

“Perhaps. It’s not as though he would have told me if he did.” Aurelia looked down at herself and smoothed the pleats of her skirt yet again. All of it, from head to toe, was new. It felt so odd; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had new clothing. “Thank you again,” she continued, somewhat awkwardly. “For the traveling attire. It's quite fine.”

Keveh’to shrugged. A dull rosy flush crept up the sides of his neck. “It’s Ul’dah,” he said. “They’ll toss you out the gates on your arse if you show up looking like a beggar.”

“Hells below,” she tried to make a jest of it with a soft laugh, “you make it sound as though they’ll have a fashion inspector awaiting my arrival.”

“No. But I’ve known my share of that lot, and ‘tis not unlikely they’ll hit you with a demand for a hefty bribe at least once.”

“Yes, I’ve heard stories from some of the others.”

“And for goodness’ sake, Relia- please do yourself a favor and be careful about the company you keep. No one needs to know about you-know-what.” He tapped his temple with a humorless smile. “Ul’dah is a great deal more cosmopolitan than our humble little forest abode, but even they might balk at that.”

The stare she gave him could best be described as obstinate, with the hard set of her jawline. “...I might be ignorant of many Eorzean customs, but I should like to think I am not that much of a fool.”

“I’m trying to watch out for you.”

“Rest assured, I do appreciate the thought.” Still so glum. She frowned at him, “I thought that this decision would have pleased you. You made no secret you were tired of watching me mope about.”

“I- yes. But-”

He opened his mouth, stuttered into empty air, then sighed.

The other passengers milled about them in a somnolent shuffle, muttering to each other and passing bags back and forth. A pair of snowy-haired elezen twins in clothing as new and fine as her own brushed past Aurelia and Keveh’to without sparing a second glance, their identical braids and hair-ribbons stirring in a cool and sluggish breeze from the riverbank. She waited for the pair to pass well out of earshot before she continued, as gently as she could manage:

“This isn’t goodbye forever, you know.”

“I know.”

“They gave me honorary citizenship. I think I’m obligated to at least visit from time to time.” Another jest, one which failed in a like manner as the other to crack his solemn visage. “But I do fully plan on returning once I’ve completed my studies.”

“Right. I understand that. It’s…” His ears swiveled forward, then back, still flattened unhappily against his hair. “...Never mind. It’s not important.”

“No, go on.”

“It’s a trifling personal matter. Naught that you should worry about.”

“If you have something to say-”

That stony stoicism faded at last, relaxing into a smile, but it was as sad a smile as she had ever seen Keveh’to Epocan give anyone. “Matter of fact, I did. Once. But I see now that I’ve gone and waited too long,” he said cryptically. “Saying it now won’t change anything, and I wager I’d only feel worse if it did.”

“I’m sorry.” Aurelia worried at her lower lip with her teeth. “Truly, I am.”

His smile stretched into a grin. It made him look far more like the man she had come to know, the friend who teased and needled her and let her talk herself into momentous decisions. “You’ve no cause to be sorry for anything, my friend. The fault is mine own if there’s fault to be placed. I’m just being sentimental, I suppose. And, mayhap, a touch selfish.”

“Last call for luggage,” bellowed one of the porters. “If ye don’t bring it up now, ye’ll be carryin’ it yerselves! ‘Tis a long road ahead! Last call for luggage!”

Aurelia looked down at herself, then the bags at her feet. She only had the three pieces: her salvaged field kit, her herbal bag, and the pack which held in it those few trifling personal possessions she owned, including her mother’s memento mori. The field kit’s thick carbonweave strap perched on her shoulder, its tripartite-link imperial insignia long since removed by her own hand (Rhaya Wolndara’s angry reaction to the sight of it had been a valuable lesson in precaution) and its once-hefty weight now considerably lightened with even her most conservative usage of its contents over the years.

“Well,” he said after a moment, with transparently forced cheer, “let’s be about it. This lot won’t load itself.”

“The field kit needs to stay with me,” she drew out of reach when he stretched out a hand to take it from her shoulder. “Too many fragile items. Glass and the like. I’ll not trust it to the vagaries of a draught chocobo.”

“Fair enough.”

He picked up the others and made his way toward the waiting porter as the small collection of passengers began to mill towards the slatted steps. A Highlander man drowsed near the front of the carriage, hand wrapped loosely about a wine bottle and otherwise oblivious to the world. Aurelia double-checked the small leather belt she wore to make sure the letters Miounne and E-Sumi-Yan had penned were intact; a fine mess it would be if she were to lose them on the journey.

“Aurelia!”

The matronly Duskwight proprietress of the Carline Canopy stood head and shoulders over most of the passengers, and she quickly drew their attention as she made her way towards the small gathering with a swift and decisive stride. The Garlean offered her a small smile.

“Good morning to you, Miounne,” she said. “Come to see me off, have you?”

“I certainly have. I hope you weren’t planning on leaving us this morning without breaking your fast, girl,” was Miounne’s brisk reply, though she returned the smile as she held out her hands. In them, she carried a steaming tin cup and a small cloth-wrapped bundle. “I set aside one of my eel pies for you. ‘Tis a bit chilly as well, so I thought some hot tea might do you well on the road. Don’t worry about the cup; I have plenty of them.”

Touched by the gesture, Aurelia carefully took the cup and the wrapped pie, one in each hand.

“You didn’t have to do this-”

“I know,” Miounne said, a wry smirk tilting her lips. She wiped her hands on her apron. “But I did. The pie is heavy and should keep your belly full for a day or two. You’ll be changing carriages at the station in Highbridge to the Sunroad trail; you’ll want to get more supplies while you’re there-- make sure you have plenty of fresh water. There’s naught betwixt Drybone and the city save malms of scrubland, and this time of year the water holes will be too low to sustain travelers. I imagine the Calamity will have made the pickings slim for hunting as well.”

Aurelia nodded.

“Once you pass through the city gates, make your way to the Quicksand. That’s where the Ul’dahn Adventurers’ Guild operates; the proprietress’ name is Momodi Modi. I sent word ahead that she’s to expect your arrival within the sennight. All you need to do is give her your name and mine.”

“I... yes. I’ll do that.”

“And please, Aurelia dear- do take care in Ul’dah. It is a very different sort of city from ours. You are a kind woman with the best of intentions and there are those who would…” Miounne hesitated. “...Well. I’ll not fearmonger; I’ll wager you’ve heard enough of that. But I would ask the Twelve to watch over you nonetheless- if that’s all right, of course.”

She didn’t say anything for a long moment. Instead, she watched Keveh’to’s back, the way his officer’s overcoat pulled taut across the shoulders as he passed her bags to the porter, then cast her eyes down at Miounne’s parting gifts.

The sight brought back a memory of the last time she had left behind the familiar to set out for the unknown: fresh from her schooling, set to board a train at the capital’s processing center after she had enlisted in the imperial army. No one had accompanied her. Not to give her well wishes or helpful directions, or even to wave their farewells from the platform as the train departed for the tunnels bored beneath the mountains and into the heart of Castrum Pinnaculum. She had gone to the station alone, had left alone, and for the first few weeks of basic training, she had struggled alone.

But she was not alone now. Perhaps she no longer owned a marvel of a garden, or slept in a fine bed, or wore silks, but since coming to Eorzea she had made more friends in this past handful of years than in the previous decade. That had to count for something.

Aurelia stared into the steaming teacup and swallowed past the sudden constriction in her throat with considerable effort, then looked at the other woman with glassy blue eyes.

“I’d like that,” she said at last. “And thank you, Miounne. For everything.”

Before the woman could muster a response Aurelia had turned away and hurried towards the lowered carriage steps. She didn’t want to lose her nerve or shed tears, not today, and she still had one more farewell to give.

Keveh’to reached the steps first; he plucked the carbonweave strap from her shoulder and slung it over his own the moment she drew near. “Let me pass that up to you once you’re seated,” he said. “You can’t carry both your breakfast and this great bloody thing onto the carriage.”

She was the last to board. The wooden stair was showing its age and it creaked even under Aurelia’s slight weight as she made her way onto the covered deck. The platinum-headed Elezen twins she had seen earlier sat in the back near the cargo across from the last empty space: the one in blue was wholly absorbed in perusing a tome while the one in red dozed upon their companion’s shoulder. Neither of them paid her any mind as she set her teacup and snugly wrapped meal upon the open seat. Nor did any of the others, for that matter.

Mayhap this part was not so very different from that long ago train ride after all.

Aurelia chuckled aloud, though the sound lacked humor, and turned towards the other end of the carriage at the sound of swift footsteps. Keveh’to had come up behind her to deliver her remaining bag. The half-empty imperial field kit, still large and cumbersome for all it lacked much of the weight it once bore, smacked with a quiet dull thud against his thigh with each step. His expression was unreadable as he set it down at her feet.

“Suppose Mother Miounne already said it so I don’t need to,” he said, “but I will, anyroad. Take care of yourself and be careful who you trust. And if there is trouble and you need to leave for any reason, you always have a home here.”

“Keveh’to-” Before she could finish what she had meant to say his arms had wrapped about her shoulders in a heavy embrace, tail wound around her calf.

“Write to us once in a while, will you?” he muttered in her ear. “Just… just so we know you’re doing alright. Even if it’s something about your alchemy that I- I mean, we don’t understand.”

“Or care about,” Aurelia said wryly. She knew full well that Keveh’to was not asking her to write to Miounne. Her arms tightened about his shoulders in return, just for a brief moment. “...I’ll write as often as I can manage.”

“Good.”

The Miqo’te looked for a moment as though he wanted to say - or do - something more, but instead released her with all haste, tail flickering and ears swiveling with his discomfiture as he went. Aurelia said nothing further as she took a step backward and turned to the seat where her tea and morning meal awaited. It was easy enough to spare him his blushes, to pretend that her focus lay upon how best she might secure her bag under the seat. Once that was done she picked up the teacup and took a thoughtful sip, placing Miounne's eel pie upon her lap. She was too full of nerves to be terribly hungry but that would no doubt change within a bell or two.

His retreat down the narrow steps came just in time for the porter to lift and shutter the low-slung door behind him with a brisk snap. Aurelia felt her eyes prickle and burn but her composure held fast, and when she turned about and lifted her free hand to wave at her friend it was with a bright smile on her face.

Her minder - her friend, now - gave only a half-second’s hesitation before he waved back. At his side, Miounne too lifted her hand in silent farewell.

“Quarrymill!” the driver shouted. “Next stop, Quarrymill!”

Following upon the heels of the teamster’s call came the draught chocobos’ twin kwehs. She braced herself and her teacup a moment before she felt the sharp initial jolt of the carriage’s forward motion. Within seconds it smoothed into a sedate and seamless drift as the wind aether filled the balloons overhead, and they were off down the half-paved cobbles that led to the Blue Badger gate. In moments they would pass out of the city and turn onto the southbound road.

For the final time, Aurelia allowed herself a glance over her shoulder, back over the lip of the carriage and in the direction of the Carline Canopy. Keveh’to, it seemed, had chosen to remain outside the chocobo paddock. He stood stiff and unmoving save for the tail that lashed erratically at the air, his hands shoved into his deep pockets and his mouth turned in a downward bow she could see even from here.

His words drifted across her mind like errant clouds.

I’ve waited too long. Saying it now won’t change anything.

She kept her gaze upon the dwindling figure until the carriage had rounded the bend and that splash of bright yellow was no longer visible through the foliage.

~*~

Watching the commotion below from his perch upon a flight of corrugated metal steps, Nero tol Scaeva knew what was coming next. The cohort’s work had come to a screeching halt and several of the engineers had gathered about to investigate the rear quarter panel of the left leg. None of them seemed to know what orders they were to give or be given if any, and the resulting confusion left them milling aimlessly about like ants puzzling at a stray piece of food someone had dropped on the floor.

Thus it fell to him to restore order, as much as he would rather not: his presence alone would subject him to fearful kowtowing and stammered excuses. He knew he could be a hard man when the situation called for it, but he liked to think he was also a fair one, and even the greenest of the signal corps had no reason to fear his wrath so long as they could explain themselves to his satisfaction. Still, he was a Garlean, and the provincial fear of his countrymen was deeply ingrained into the army's conscripts -- ingrained when it was not beaten.

No help for it, I suppose.

He made his way beneath the iron scaffolding that surrounded the warmachina's exoskeleton at a brisk pace. The clatter of his sollerets upon the metal tiling set an easy and unhurried rhythm as he crossed the open floor until his stride slowed to a full stop mere fulms away. The engineers’ chatter, quiet but idle, dwindled into an anxious silence.

One of the engineers, a tiny Auri woman with her lavender-tinted hair bound in regulation braids, went visibly pale at the sight of his approach but to her credit did not make a show of flinching from him, and even had sufficient courage to offer up a salute as was proper. He folded his arms over his chest and peered down at her through the visor of his helm. They stood close enough that he could see how her forearm - still stiffly crossed over her chest - trembled at his proximity.

“Architectus,” he said very calmly.

“Y-yes, my lord?”

“As you were,” she dropped her salute, but her back remained ramrod straight and the tension did not leave her shoulders. He continued as if he had failed to notice, “I mark a number of you performing a very serious study of this warmachina’s leg joint, in lieu of performing your assigned tasks.”

Her swallow was audible even through his helm’s transceiver, but her stone-faced stare did not waver. “Apologies, my lord. There is-”

“I believe I have stated on multiple occasions that we have a schedule to keep, and not a terribly lenient one at that. Perhaps the cohort is in need of a reminder.”

“My lord, please,” the woman blurted, then winced almost immediately, “I am sorry to interrupt. But you see, there’s a problem.”

Shite and swiving hellsfire, if I never hear ‘there’s a problem’ again in my lifetime it will be too soon. Still, unlike sas Junius it was not in Nero’s nature to vent his spleen upon hapless messengers. He released a long-suffering sigh instead - only somewhat dramatized for her benefit - and watched those large ocean-blue eyes break their impasse at the sound. They flickered nervously up at his face, then down, then back out to stare at that fixed point past his waistline.

“Of course there is,” he said aloud.

“My lord?”

His own fault, he surmised, for expecting any other response to his bit of japery. “Never mind. Continue.”

“Yes, my lord. We ran the initial tests using the Vanguard H-1’s specifications, as dictated. The operating system ran as expected upon startup. But when we tried to proceed with full activation... well, we tried to switch over from the H-1 but it caused a power surge and nearly started a fire- as you see here. As it is we’re dead in the water. She won’t power on at all now.”

“I assume our engineering teams ran down their checklists for aught that might have compromised structural integrity, prior to attempting the activation.”

“Just so, my lord. Circuitry, fuel lines, motherboards-- it was all green.” She bit her lip. “If… perhaps we might speak to the quartermaster and requisition another part. Or perhaps a larger-”

“The next step up would be the specs for a low-velocity assault craft,” Nero interrupted dryly. “While I share your readiness to explore all possible options, I think it unwise to blindly run through every single spare part at our disposal hoping for a result. Aside from the obvious risks, ‘tis inefficient. We do not have a great deal of time to make what amounts to an educated guess.”

“I- yes,” she stammered. “I apologize, my lord, I should have thought-”

He waved an impatient hand. She fell silent as instantly as if he had slammed a door shut in her face. “Who is your immediate superior?”

“Valens nan Varro, my lord.”

“Kindly inform him that the activation test has been delayed pending an internal review. We will reschedule after I have spoken with the legatus.”

Now she was staring at her feet, her face pale once again. “...He will be sorely displeased if he discovers we have failed you, my lord. Sorely.”

“Ah, yes. A terrible burden indeed, the primus architectus' personal inconvenience. Unfortunately, we shall all have to bear it,” Nero said briskly. He did not care to argue the matter with a subordinate; such behavior would undermine his authority, and the engineers present were well aware that his word was the final say.

“But-”

“If nan Varro is displeased with the decision and wishes to contest it, then he may take his grievance up with me directly.”

Her shoulders slumped forward ever so slightly, not in relief but defeat. Beneath his helm, Nero raised his brows at the response but said nothing further.

“Yes, my lord.”

“And I expect an incident report on my desk by 0700 tomorrow morning. Posthaste.”

Her answering salute was stiff and formal, expression as stony and unyielding as a statue’s. Whatever emotion he had spied was carefully hidden now; the wall was back in place. Curious. Irrelevant. He had neither the time nor the wherewithal to waste in wondering after it.

Nero passed her without another word, her fellows hastening to clear a path for him as he approached the enormous back leg. There were scorch marks on the edges of the chassis panel, he noted; exposed copper fibers trailed from the opened casing like wilted ivy creepers. The ends were blackened and a thin line of smoke still curled in slender lines; the smell was acrid and familiar and the castrum's ventilation system would disperse it within a half hour.

One hand hovered just over the scorched plate as he studied the sight, with a furrowed brow and pursed lips.

Retrofitting Allagan technology was not a precise art, as much as it pained Nero to admit it. Some artifacts worked so readily with Garlean magitek that the process was utterly seamless, as if it had been meant for their hands. Others were far more complex, and thus more time-intensive. The Ultima Weapon had been his longest project to date, and the tribunus laticlavius had to remind himself that the machina had been experimental even to the greatest scientists of its age: a groundbreaking anti-eikon countermeasure that partnered the arcane with the mundane. A seamless blending of aetherology and engineering, borne of man’s ingenuity.

Blended---

Ah.

“My lord?” a timid voice echoed at his back. The engineers were watching him; they had gathered a respectful six fulms away.

“...This is not a public spectacle,” his hand fell away from the plating. “See to this mess. I want the machina checked from top to bottom for aught that could possibly cause further delays. Exposed joints, chassis warping, blown fuses, exposed wires, all of it.”

"My lord, the test-" "Is no longer your priority," his impatience filtered through as a short, barked command. "Attend to your tasks. I will not ask you twice." The gathered cluster of engineers sketched their salutes and scattered like mice, scrambling to obey before any of them could experience the implied consequences for perceived insubordination. Nero watched them in silence for a few beats before taking his leave. He made his way back along the catwalk and up several flights of steps, to one of the administrative bays that oversaw the hangar. Once he was certain of his privacy, he removed his helm with a soft and relieved sigh. It was a mere press of a button after that to open the transceiver link and set it to a specific frequency. Static hissed in the confines of the empty office for one second, two, before the link became stable and there was smooth air and Gaius van Baelsar's gruff baritone:

“State your business.”

“Lord Gaius. Have I interrupted something?”

“Yes, but naught of particular importance. For a small blessing.” The legatus of the XIVth Imperial Legion sounded vaguely put out, but not irate. An encouraging sign which meant he was like to be at least somewhat amenable to the discussion Nero wished to have. “I take it you have something you wished to discuss.”

“I do. The activation test failed. I should have an incident report within the next 24 hours that will list the particulars.”

“Again?”

“Indeed. This is why,” Nero took a deep breath, “I should like to request that the Weapon and all hands involved in the project be transferred to the research facility in Agelyss Wyse.” “The Vylbrand coast? That is not exactly shouting distance from Gyr Abania. And there are certain dangers present which make your proposition quite risky.” Refusal to take risks will not garner the results we seek. "With all due respect, my lord, you did not assign me this project with any fond hopes that I would remain complacent,” he could almost feel his commanding officer bristling at his bluntness, “and these failed tests have made it abundantly clear that - as you will recall that I posited, against protest from certain quarters - ceruleum combustion alone will not be sufficient to bring the Weapon back online. Not at full capacity.”

“What do you propose?”

“I will get to that eventually, but first and foremost: I need data. Current data. Simulations and conjectures will only get us so far.” He glanced out the bay window at the massive machina, a dormant monster, each opened claw the size of a juggernaut. “The Weapon was designed to do far more than subdue eikons, and we have merely scratched the surface of its capabilities. But scratching is all we will manage if we remain here.”

Nero managed - only just - to keep the excitement out of his voice. The Black Wolf of Garlemald was a straightforward man, he knew from long years of experience: interested in results, not theories.

“I understand this, but you are also asking to upend our timetable for the sake of a hypothesis.”

“A hypothesis with its foundation in the methods the Allagans used to create and maintain Dalamud- as Lord van Darnus would attest, were he still with us. I think it a safe assumption that the Ultima Weapon operates upon a similar methodology.” Van Baelsar’s only response was a sigh of consternation. Nero continued, “And yes, it would move our overall timetable forward a few weeks. I admit it.”

“Nearly two months,” the legatus said sourly. “You understand that even if I agree to your proposal, it is not something that can be immediately enacted.”

“I would not expect to presume thus, my lord, of course.” There was bureaucracy involved, and the logistics of moving entire teams between castra -- not to mention the machina itself. Well, Solus zos Galvus had not built the Empire in a day, either. “I realize there are protocols to follow. I only ask for consideration-”

“And due consideration will be given, tribunus- in due time. At the very least I must needs contact the Occidens praefectus and discuss the matter. We will speak on this anon.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He could afford the wait. In the meantime, there was much yet to be done- and new plans to be made. When the legatus called for him again, as he inevitably would, Nero would be prepared to explain what must be done ere their goals could be met. Allag’s mighty Weapon would awaken from its slumber by his hand, and he would receive his fair due at last. There was no one and nothing now to keep him from reaching forth to take what was rightfully his.

This victory shall be mine and mine alone, he thought. And you, old friend, will be as chaff in the wind. Discarded and forgotten.

Beneath his twin veils of tempered glass and chromed crimson steel, Nero tol Scaeva began to smile.

#aurelia laskaris #garlean warrior of light #keveh'to epocan #gaius van baelsar #nero tol scaeva #mother miounne #werlyt cameos sort of?#and the leveilleurs #you get a cameo! and you get a cameo!#this concludes reborn by fire #off to ARR we gooo #upon pale dawns #chapter 4

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smythesm · 4 years ago

Text

Mini Para: My Train Could Take You Home

Rating: PG.

Pairing: Seblaine.

Blaine: @andersoncharm

Sebastian: @smythesm

When: (Three month time skip.) Friday, August 13, 2021

Location: Marblehead, Massachusetts- Blaine’s gifted magical beach cottage.

Notes: Sebastian talks with Blaine about their future.

Warnings: None for this particular Para. However, this RP in general includes; Mentions of death. Parental Death (Blaine’s Mom), Mentions of toxic past relationships. Mentions of brief past Klaine. Depression. Anxiety.

Extra Warnings: (This RP is not Kurt Hummel friendly. You’ve all been warned.)

Para Title Taken From: Willow by Taylor Swift

Extra Information: We will be doing a series of little mini’s to progress over the next few years of this RP. Things might get a little confusing but we promise to date them accordingly.

Under Cut to keep it uniform. Work is mostly unedited as usual.

Sebastian’s POV:

Salt air ghosted across Sebastian’s skin in the small cottage bedroom. Blaine was asleep on his chest still and he could see the moon perched perfectly above the dark ocean through the window they always left open. He wasn’t sure what had woken him up, he just sort of gently fell out of a dream and was looking out at the sea as he listened to the other man breathe. He noticed a large dark figure poke its head up and dive back into the water-it was Flotsam. The past few months had been a whirlwind of hopping back and forth between the apartment and the cottage, an ever-growing sea monster and work for the both of them. Sometimes it was long hours at the office for Sebastian, other times Blaine would spend hours making draughts and tea blends for Hunter and Tony or leaving before the sun rose to start baking at the Snowed In.

Seb’s mind was wandering in the fuzzy way they often did when you were in between dreams and being fully awake. He would still be able to fall asleep if he just rolled over and let his eyes flutter closed. Instead, he was thinking about time and how much had passed which turned into him thinking about how long he and Blaine had been together which snowballed into the fact that they had spent all this time in an apartment that only one of them had picked out. Seb wondered how Blaine would feel about maybe, possibly moving. They could afford it and more space might be nice.

Sebastian felt Blaine stir against his chest, “Hey, B? Are you up?” He twirled his fingers playfully in his boyfriend’s messy bed head of curls. He waited until the other man groggily muttered. “I was wondering….how would you feel about moving? The two of us, I mean.” The words were out before he could stop himself, it was probably the anxiety and excitement of the thought. “You know what? This can wait until morning.”

Blaine’s POV:

The night had been an ordinary yet perfect night, filled with things they did weekly- Seb working through cases on the sofa, books spread across the table, the little line of concentration that lived between his eyes in place while Blaine made a fresh batch of energy and sleep draughts for his friends in the open kitchen. He wasn’t supposed to make them, they had other Witches that were assigned to that, but he’d always help them- The elders could exile him from his world, but it would always be a part of him and he always did what he could. Plus, it helped ground him and connect him to his magic more. Ras and Freya were somewhere out in the sand taunting Flotsam to the shore. The night ended in a tangle of limbs and lips and yet another whisper of let’s just sleep here tonight. The waxing moon sat low and lazy in her sky palace over the quiet sea. Her bright, thin crescent was the last image Blaine had before he’d slipped off into a satisfied and peaceful sleep, his cheek resting against Sebastian’s chest, his boyfriend's sure and steady heartbeat, and the gentle ripple of waves shushing him to dreams better than any lullaby.

Blaine had never been happier.

He sensed Sebastian awake more than heard him, his connection to the other man prickling in the back of his skull and tingling his skin like an electric charge. He could tell nothing was wrong, but at the same time, something was different in the air around them. He lifted his head and pressed it back into Seb’s hand, enjoying the feeling of his fingers in his hair- his eyes meeting the green-blue of Seb’s as he listened to his boyfriend talk. It took a moment for the words to catch up to his brain. Seb wanted to move?

“Hey, now, no waiting, I’m awake. Talk to me, baby. What’s all this?” He propped himself up on the bed, his face still hovering over Seb’s chest, his thumb slowly stroking over his skin soothingly. “I mean it’s technically morning now anyway. ” He paused and kept his tone light, his curiosity and even excitement creeping upon him. They had so many memories in that apartment, what could make Seb want to up and leave it?

Their three year anniversary was coming up, not to mention Sebastian’s twenty-seventh birthday and Blaine had spent weeks bothering his boyfriend about what they’d do for each thing, and what he might want. But the bothering always turned into teasing about how Seb had everything he needed and the teasing turned into forgetting that Blaine had even asked at all, but it didn’t matter anyway, they’d be together for whatever they picked, Blaine was sure he’d make it perfect for his guy.

He had never been more sure and more confident about the direction his life was going than he was right now. Sure, he still had days where he ached for his old world and his mom and now his dad who was just out of reach, and he wasn’t chasing his musical therapy dream, the one he was free to pursue now- he’d wanted it so long even though he’d known he’d be stuck being Headmaster of LeFay, but now it seemed wrong for him. And working at the Snowed In was the most therapeutic thing in the world to him. He got to bake and be around people and he got to lead them and it made him stupidly happy. He was even managing to do freelance tutoring on the side, teaching people to play whatever instrument they wanted to. He was in such a good place right now. They both were. Could a move possibly make that better? Gods, they could build a home together… Blaine had inherited a great deal of money that he had no clue what to do with. He was from a world where he could make anything he wanted. He bit his lip and went on.

“What brought thought on? You’re excited by the thought, aren’t you? I can sense it. Have you been thinking about it a lot and it’s serious or are these the thoughts of a content, sleepy man? I’m not saying no, I mean, I’d go anywhere with you. But, what’s this about?”

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian could feel Blaine lean into his touch, he was looking up at him with sleepy but present eyes. He wasn’t surprised that Blaine wanted to talk now, he knew that the other man could sense emotions as he primarily worked with those.

“I just think it might be time, you know? I picked that apartment out intending to only be there during school and I never really pictured making it into a home. I just never imagined that for myself. It’s the only thing I see now. We should find a place together that we...could see ourselves staying in for a while.”

He bit his bottom lip, sort of embarrassed at how cheesy his words felt. But, all of it was true. Seb wanted a home with the other man, wanted a yard for Enjolras, windows for Freya to perch on.

“I know that your stuff is there and I know you have this cottage but, I think starting together from scratch and having our stuff just sort of naturally blend together would be nice. I know that this is a pretty big step but, I don’t know, I’m ready to start taking...big….steps. “

Sebastian wanted to crawl into himself. Being open and honest was so scary and still felt fresh and the burn of blush on his cheeks always tore his icy façade down, which was hard for him. He had no protection when he was vulnerable but, if he wanted to keep moving forward, it was what needed to be done.

“What do you think?”

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine let his fingers trace lightly over Seb’s chest and then over to his arms and slowly back again, able to tell that the things his beautiful boyfriend was saying were incredibly difficult for him to articulate. I love you had once been hard for Seb, and now it was as easy as breathing for them to say, but this was different. Sebastian had always struggled with saying a lot, he showed how he felt every day, of course, but for him to be this open with Blaine, to put into this many words what he wanted showed Blaine that Sebastian was serious. He could feel Seb’s embarrassment and he wanted to soothe it away, but his own emotions were too busy wiggling with excitement.

Sebastian wanted to buy a house, no- a home, with Blaine. Wanted to live there for a long time, maybe forever… Blaine couldn’t stop the smile that attacked his face. This shouldn’t be a shock, they loved each other, they were soulmates, they were meant to be and both had suffered losses for it. But, it mattered to him that Seb had voiced the want out loud in such a sweet way. Blaine let out a breathy little laugh and gave his boyfriend's arm a squeeze to show him he agreed. Seb’s lingering words about big steps echoed in his ears and his heart thudded and flipped and the butterflies that had lived in his belly since the day he’d met this man flittered to life. What did that mean? Would they get to travel the world one day? Maybe adopt another pet and grow old holding hands on a porch swing with no worries in the world like some perfect book ending… Did that mean that maybe Sebastian would want to marry him even though doing that came with more secrets and baggage? His heart pounded harder.

Blaine knew Seb was his, knew that he had him and they'd always be together. He’d thought about marriage to Seb, of course, and he'd thought of children with him, which was a loss he had to carry and yes, it was a heavy loss and sometimes it got to him. But he'd known they’d be together no matter what and assumed they’d stay just like this because it was safe. They’d live in that apartment and magic travel to the beach cottage to get away from reminders of the trial and other bad memories. He never thought he’d get anything more. He didn’t need anything more, he was happy and content and still so in love… And yet here he was being offered a new home, a home that he got to build with his person and a promise of something more.

“I w-,” he tried to speak, his voice again too breathy and small to take up much space in the room. “I want that, too.” He laughed again, a strange elation falling over his whole being and suddenly he couldn’t stop talking.

“Yes, yes, a thousand times yes I think we should do it. As I said, I’d go anywhere with you or to be with you.” He pulled himself up, forgetting how naked he still was, and pressed his smiling lips to his boyfriend’s and giggled again. He wondered if decorating this place had led him to think about this or if it had always been there in his mind, either way, he was happy for it.

“We could get all new stuff, pick everything out together and build a home. Of course we’d keep some older stuff and memories too. And I could have a little space for magic in the new house, and you could have an office and oh, yes we’d keep the beach cottage- we still have to have a getaway. But, yes, we could have a home together. Would we stay in the state- oh! We could buy a house with a huge kitchen, I could cook so much better for you-” He was talking fast, hardly breathing as he spoke. He paused and shook his head, his smile a little bashful.

“Gods, I’m sorry, I’m just so happy right now. I never thought… I-I’m just happy, Seb. You have no idea.” He leaned down and kissed Seb once more. “It makes me want to get online and look at the market right now.” His cheeks flared in a blush and he had to hide his face in Seb’s neck to hide it.

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian loved the look of elation that fell over Blaine’s features. He could practically feel his happiness thrum against him under the covers. Seb kissed his boyfriend despite the smile on his face and wished they could go buy a house right then and there.

“I’d love all of that and don’t be sorry, I’m happy that you’re into this.”

He rubbed circles over Blaine’s strong shoulders, “We can start looking whenever you want but, maybe we should sleep a little bit more and then eat breakfast first?” Sebastian’s face slowly spread into a sly grin. He knew that B would have his laptop out and logged onto Zillow as soon as they stepped back into the apartment.

“I’m happy, too. This will be good for us.” Seb cuddled in closer to his boyfriend. “You’ll get to pick out paint swatches and furniture to match.” He knew that Blaine’s stomach would flip at the idea.

Sebastian wanted to spend his whole life making Blaine smile that infectious smile.

Blaine’s POV:

“I’m just happy.” He said the words with a grin and nuzzled his nose into Seb’s neck again after accepting his kiss. He traced over his mother’s protective crystal that still lived over Sebastian’s heart before leaning down and pressing a kiss to Seb’s chest. He could feel the rhythm of his boyfriend’s heart and it told Blaine that Seb was just as happy as he was. This was one of those moments where he wanted to take the memory and scoop it up into a snow globe so he could take it down and rewatch it again later. The scars around his wrists and the ones on his mind seemed all the more worth it in moments like this.

“I suppose you’re right, we can wait until we’re rested.” Blaine could have easily gotten up and given them both an energy potion so they could work through it all right now. Blaine could have them moved in a week if he used magic, he could speed up the process. But, one look at Seb’s hopeful face basked in the soft glow of the magical candles that permanently lit the whole beach cottage told him that he needed to do this all naturally. They needed to do it the hard way to get the full experience of building it together. Blaine could share some of his magic with Seb, but for the most part, it was his. This needed to be theirs.

“Don’t you dare tease me with that right now, I’ll never sleep.” He openly laughed, his voice causing Ras and Freya both to come shambling into the bedroom. Freya gave him a look and Blaine knew she approved without her having to tell him. Enjolras hopped up onto the bed and promptly snuggled at the foot of their bed, exhausted from playing one the shore with Freya and Flotsam. Freya got herself comfortable by snuggling into Ras and before long the two of them were asleep. Blaine loved that they were all together.

“We can sleep, I can wait.” He snuggled down into the covers, his arms pulling Sebastian close to him, whispers of I love you were exchanged and his boyfriend was fast asleep in minutes. Blaine held him close, relishing in the feeling of sleepy, hopefully, contentedness. He felt safe, not just because an actual magical sea creature was watching over them, but because they were all together. He finally let himself relax and drifted off to sleep with an itch in his fingertips- not for magic this time, but with the urge to pick up his phone and begin the search for their perfect home. Luckily Seb’s gentle breathing in his ear and Ras’ soft snores guided him away and into a deep slumber.

/fin.

#para #seblaine #smythesm #andersoncharm #My Train Could Take You Home #seblaine witch rp

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samsonet3 · 3 years ago

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which lotr poem are you?

Namárië

This poem is interesting from a worldbuilding perspective, so we probably don't even need to comment on its poetic merits or lack thereof. At least it doesn't rhyme, which is refreshing. If you got this result you're a linguist, or you taught yourself one of the Elvish languages of Middle-Earth (or at least the Tengwar script). You enjoy being judgemental sometimes, but you're also deep-down a good person.

Ai! laurië lantar lassi súrinen, yéni unótimë ve rámar aldaron! Yéni ve lintë yuldar avánier mi oromardi lisse-miruvóreva Andúnë pella, Vardo tellumar nu luini yassen tintilar i eleni ómaryo airetári-lírinen. Sí man i yulma nin enquantuva? An sí Tintallë Varda Oiolossëo ve fanyar máryat Elentári ortanë, ar ilyë tier undulávë lumbulë; ar sindanóriello caita mornië i falmalinnar imbë met, ar hísië untúpa Calaciryo míri oialë. Sí vanwa ná, Rómello vanwa, Valimar! Namárië! Nai hiruvalyë Valimar. Nai elyë hiruva. Namárië!

[Translation]

Ah! like gold fall the leaves in the wind, long years numberless as the wings of trees! The years have passed like swift draughts of the sweet mead in lofty halls beyond the West, beneath the blue vaults of Varda wherein the stars tremble in the song of her voice, holy and queenly. Who now shall refill the cup for me? For now the Kindler, Varda, the Queen of the Stars, from Mount Everwhite has uplifted her hands like clouds, and all paths are drowned deep in shadow; and out of a grey country darkness lies on the foaming waves between us, and mist covers the jewels of Calacirya for ever. Now lost, lost to those from the East is Valimar! Farewell! Maybe thou shalt find Valimar. Maybe even thou shalt find it. Farewell!

#long post #♠️ | lotr

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bellshells · 4 years ago

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Splitting Hairs ch.4

Hello! Here is chapter four of Splitting Hairs, it’s a long one so grab a snack, grab a cup of tea and settle in. As always, thank you for taking the time to read this <3

Word Count: 3469 Severus x OC

Warnings: Moderate Smut, Alcohol Summary: Sev has a new hobby and he has a jaunt out with galpals Minerva and Valentine. Shit goes down. Whoops.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter Start from the beginning

One thing that Severus did not anticipate, was having a nice time with Minerva and Valentine. But he did. That night and the five following Fridays after. Minerva had insisted on inviting Valentine and Severus didn’t refuse. Valentine had always kept an appropriate amount of space between them, and they were able to speak somewhat freely. Minerva really was the crutch that they both desperately clung to, she was a mediator and comfort to them both and Severus was eternally grateful. He didn’t bother to disguise his enjoyment over spending time with the two witches, they were like two peas in a pod and Valentine quickly fell into step in their unlikely friendship.

He was struggling though still; he couldn’t dismiss his reoccurring consternation for his conflicted emotions. Whilst he was relishing in his new friendship with Valentine, the ghost of Lily Evans still haunted the corners of his mind. Severus felt like a complete hypocrite, he had assured nay- promised himself that he would do anything possible to avoid Valentine; yet he couldn’t bring himself to refuse her “Same again next week, Severus?” He wondered whether he would ever be free of Lily and the way he felt, or if she would remain a phantom of his subconscious. Lily would have found this all hilarious, he was sure. She often encouraged him to seek out a girlfriend, but he was never brave enough to explain why he always refused. Now, he cursed himself. If only he had taken her advice all those years ago, maybe not to find ‘the one’ but to gain a few experiences. He was thirty years old and had up until very recently never been kissed. He wasn’t ashamed per se, but now it was all that he could think about. Valentine had presented him with an opportunity that he never thought possible, and who was to say that it might not happen again? His lack of experience weighed heavily on him, he felt fit to burst with it all. His all-consuming guilt, his growing attraction for Valentine and his insecurity about being a virgin.

It was all Severus could do to fall asleep at night. It was like he was going through a second puberty. He had brewed a week’s worth of Sleeping Draught and he knew if he took it just before he got into bed, he had enough time to pleasure himself before falling asleep. It had become a nightly occurrence, almost an obsession. Severus didn’t think of himself as a very sexually minded person, especially throughout his adolescence, he had viewed masturbation as something inherently wrong and refrained from doing it. Now, he couldn’t get enough. He looked forward to it, making himself come and then having a dreamless sleep. It was fantastic, why he’d never thought of doing it before was baffling. He would hot-foot it to his rooms on the nights he wasn’t hosting a detention, or on the ‘curfew night-watch’ as Mr. Filch so affectionately named it. He found he felt better for it in the morning too, like for a moment when he opened his eyes; everything was right with the world. Like everything else in his life though, that moment would pass, and he would be reminded that his life was a disaster.

That particular Friday night after Minerva and Valentine had returned to their respective quarters, and he was in bed, living his usual nightly ritual; he was different. His hand around his throbbing cock was tighter than normal, and he lifted his hand to his throat and pressed down, constricting his air flow. He came almost immediately. He laughed to himself, both impressed and surprised. He fell asleep soon after, a satisfied grin etched onto his face. When he awoke in the morning, he felt lighter, almost happy. He roused himself and got ready for the day, Saturday’s were his absolute favourite and he was excited. He smiled like a child as he pulled a fairly thick cloak over his shoulders. The weather was definitely turning and being that far up into Scotland; when the wind blew, it rattled through to your very bones. Quite satisfied with his appearance, he left his rooms and made his way out of the dungeons and towards Valentine’s quarters, he gave one swift knock on the door and waited patiently. It was quite simple really, collect Valentine on the way to meet Minerva and they would journey into Hogsmeade together. Just a few minutes of conversation to fill before he could get a firewhisky in his system and feel a little bit more comfortable around her. Minerva’s words had really stuck with him, it was nice to have a friend in Valentine. Whilst it was unfortunate that she carried with her some uncomfortable feelings for him; it wasn’t her fault. He found with each encounter; it became easier. He was able to find differences between them. Valentine’s nose for example, was longer than Lily’s. She was taller too, and obviously, she was alive.

He spied out of the corner of his eye, where the corridor bent into the belly of the castle a pair of twins. Orange haired and lanky even for their young age, Fred and George Weasley. They skulked close to the wall, whispering to themselves and checking their surroundings. Severus, cloaked in darkness watched them intently as one of them pulled out a battered piece of parchment from a pocket, and opened it. The boys poured their attention into it, scouring each corner of it with their gaze. From where Severus was stood, the parchment appeared completely blank and he toyed with idea of interfering, but the click of a lock being turned on the other side of Valentine’s door made his mind up quickly.

He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts and offered Valentine a small smile as she opened the door. She stood before him, dressed in muggle clothes, her hair tied in a ponytail and her eyes red with tears. “Professor Valentine?” Severus said, confused and concerned. Valentine ushered him inside silently and blew her nose on a hanky hidden in her hand. She closed the door softly behind him and gestured for Severus to sit on the sofa, which he did uncomfortably. Whilst he had spent quite a few hours with Valentine, he had always been with Minerva; he had never been alone with her. He was suddenly very aware of every inch of his skin, every fibre of the fabric of his robes. He hadn’t washed his hair this morning, would he smell of the potions classroom? No, no. He was trying something new, being friends. Friends don’t care if you don’t look your best all the time. Severus tried to slow his quickening breath by returning his attention to Valentine, she was stood at the fireplace watching a piece of parchment turn to ashes. “Are you alright?” He asked, he knew it was a stupid question, but that’s the sort of things friends say, isn’t it? “Yes. Sorry,” Valentine said as she turned towards him, she picked up a coat which hung on the back of a chair and pushed her arms through it. “Are you ready to go?” She enquired, she tried to make her voice lighter as she spoke, but her face gave her away. Severus rose from his perch and stood awkwardly. “Forgive me if its not my place, but if there’s anything troubling you and you would like to talk about it, I’m happy to listen.” He said softly, he tried to make his face as amenable as he could; but in reality, he just felt daft. She shook her head with a sad smile, and took a deep breath, wiping her hands across her face decidedly. “No, honestly its nothing. I just had a letter from my dad is all.” Valentine said not-so-nonchalantly. Severus kept quiet, unsure of what he should say next. “Shall I tell Minerva that you won’t be coming?” He asked and moved swiftly towards the door. “No! Really, I’m fine. I was just expecting to hear something…different from what he had to say. If you give me two seconds, I’ll be absolutely fine, and we can go. Promise.” She gave him a real smile then, albeit a small one. She disappeared into her loo and emerged a minute or two later looking more like herself and looking more like Lily in her jumper and jeans. He used to laugh at Lily for keeping track of muggle trends, the 70’s were a dubious decade for fashion at best and Lily had wholeheartedly embraced it. “Is your father…well?” Severus asked hesitantly, he wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to say but it had fallen from his lips anyway. He watched as Valentine opened the door for him and offered him a wicked smile; “Unfortunately.” Was all she said.

The sun had shone as the three of them had left the castle, but as they entered The Three Broomsticks, a rain cloud had settled over Hogsmeade and they scurried in to avoid it. Severus flagged down a young woman behind the bar and ordered drinks for the three of them before settling in a quiet corner and removing his cloak. Minerva told them of how she had been in a foul mood all the week through, she had had a disagreement with Albus over the previous weekend and had only made up with him the day before. Severus laughed as Minerva did impeccable impressions of the Headmaster, letting Valentine ask questions about what he was like behind the half-moon spectacles and telling her stories of what he was like from when Severus was a student. “Of course, the world looked very different back then,” Minerva said, wiping a tear from her eye. She had laughed so much at Severus’ tale of accidentally locking himself in Albus’s office and thinking he had killed Fawkes, Albus’ phoenix, she had cried. “It certainly did.” He agreed. A moments silence passed between the three as Minerva and Severus left unsaid what they did not speak of. Almost as if it knew, he felt his Dark Mark tingle on his arm. It didn’t burn anymore, like it had when the Dark Lord was alive; but any time he thought about it, it let itself be known. “Enough talk of us,” Minerva started, swiftly changing the subject. “I’d love to know more about your years in France Elizabeth, it must have been terribly exciting?” Valentine took a contemplative sip of her whisky, then shook her head. “It wasn’t actually, it was really quite difficult. I didn’t speak a word of French when I got there so I sort of had to just muddle through. Plus, I was dealing with the heartbreak of not getting to attend Hogwarts.” Valentine mimed her heartbreak and Severus laughed again. “It was definitely an experience, but I’m not sure I would do anything differently if I was to go back.” “That must be a luxury,” Minerva said, “To have no regrets?” “Of course I have regrets. But overall, I have to say it may have done me some good. I had to learn resilience and develop a very thick skin…I can’t complain about that really.” Valentine levelled; Severus could feel that she was in pain as she spoke to them. She wasn’t being truthful again, and Severus tried to not let it bother him. He just couldn’t fathom why she felt she couldn’t be honest about her experiences, and that bizarre comment she made about her father had troubled him. Of course, he was no stranger to harbouring ill towards his father, it made him uneasy to think she was holding onto something to cause her such anguish. The feeling was so thick, almost tangible and his heart ached for her.

Severus could faintly hear the sound of the pub doors swing open, but it wasn’t until he saw Minerva’s back stiffen that he thought to look behind him. A tall blonde man dressed head to tow in black finery stood purveying the scene, a small boy who bore his intense likeness stood at the man’s side. Severus caught the man’s eye and before he could look away, the man swished towards him, yanking the boy in tow. “Severus, how delightful it is to see you,” Lucius Malfoy crooned, a sly smirk settling on his face. Severus felt his stomach fall, it had been a few years since Severus had been this close to Malfoy or anybody else from his former life. He fought to hide his rising panic as Malfoy tipped his head to Minerva; “Minerva, always a pleasure. You remember my son, Draco?” Minerva managed a stiff smile to the young boy who did not return it. Instead, Draco yawned and tapped his father on the arm. Malfoy swatted the boy away, his attention firmly fixed on to Valentine who, when Severus looked over at her, had gone deathly pale. “Hello Miss…” Valentine was silent. Her jaw clenched tight and Severus could feel her fury from across the table. Minerva placed her hand on Valentine’s shoulder. “Professor Valentine is our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Lucius.” Minerva piped, her gaze shifting between Malfoy and Valentine. Malfoy’s gaze didn’t waver as his smirk evolved into a sneer. “I bet she is.” He said. “Come Draco, our friend will be waiting for us upstairs. Ta ta.” With a flourish of his hand they were gone. Valentine looked positively livid as she watched Malfoy and his son meander up the stairs. “What a dick.” Valentine whispered; Minerva’s strained smile immediately transformed into a true grin. “That my dear, is correct.”

Although Severus couldn’t disagree with Valentine’s sentiment, his face betrayed his confusion. That did not appear to him to be two people who had never met before. “Do you…do you know each other?” Severus asked Valentine, she turned her head slowly in his direction. “No, I just didn’t like his attitude.” Valentine smiled as she rose from the table. “One for the road?” Severus and Minerva watched as Valentine made her way to the bar and ordered more drinks, they both shared the same apprehensive expression. “Is it just me or was that a trifle…awkward.” Minerva asked Severus quietly, her face was awash with concern. He just shook his head, he wanted to tell Minerva that Valentine was lying. He could tell the minute she said she didn’t know Lucius that she wasn’t being truthful, and it made him slightly fearful as to what Valentine knew. Severus wondered whether Valentine’s past, the little that he knew about it had been as straight forward as she made it seem. He knew she was lying about her father’s busines in France, she had been truly upset after having received word from him this morning and now, pretending not to know Lucius when it was abundantly clear that they had some sort of connection. Albeit, a hostile one. There was obviously so much that neither Severus or Minerva knew about Valentine, and that made him uneasy. He knew that the Dark Lord was immensely popular overseas, and that many of his foreign followers had evaded capture after the war. Could Valentine have been one of them? No, she was still a teenager when the Dark Lord was killed- she couldn’t have been. But somebody close to her could have been.

Valentine returned to the table with a renewed energy. Six whiskies sat on a tray that she carried unsteadily in her hands. Minerva stifled a laugh as she haphazardly set them down on the table. “I thought you said one for the road, Elizabeth!” Minerva said in mock protest, readily accepting her two drinks from Valentine. The young witch just smiled and passed two more to Severus. “I just thought that as you’d had a hellish week Minerva, and I’ve not had a good drink since before term started that we deserved these. And Severus always looks in need of a stiff one.” She said with a wink. Minerva spluttered on her drink and let out a laugh that seemed to come from her belly. Severus rolled his eyes at the two cackling witches and tried not to let his embarrassment show. “From the looks of the two of you, it doesn’t seem like I’m the one in need of a stiff one.” He said with a smirk, Minerva howled with laughter and Valentine hid behind her hands, her shoulders bobbing up and down as she laughed. Severus was pleased with his retort, but he felt slightly panicked too. He shouldn’t have said that. He blamed it on the alcohol, he was being far too suggestive, and it wasn’t like him. Neither he nor Valentine had addressed what had happened the night they met and when Minerva had pressed Severus for information; he had merely put it down to intoxication. After a further two rounds the three stood, Minerva slightly unsteady on her feet clung to Valentine’s coat as the exited the bar. Severus couldn’t help but smile, he had drunk with Minerva many times and only on a few occasions had he seen her drunk. But as he watched the deputy headmistress try and act sober as they encountered students on their way back to the castle; he knew he would not let her forget it in a hurry.

Severus and Valentine left Minerva outside the Great Hall when they arrived, dinner was just about to begin, and Minerva had told them six or seven times on the way back that she was ravenous. Minerva waved goodbye to the pair as she expertly walked the way down the long pews towards the high table. Severus turned his attention towards Valentine, she stood with a smile as she watched Minerva safe to her spot next to Albus. “You not going in?” He asked her. Valentine shook her head and began walking down the corridor, Severus followed her wordlessly, having to increase his pace in order to catch up with her. “Something the matter?” “I’m just not feeling terribly sociable, Severus. You can go in though; Minerva might need someone to help her with her knife and fork.” She laughed; Severus didn’t reply instead choosing to continue walking with her. “Are you not hungry?” “Not really, I’ll send for something later if I need to.” He said, Valentine just nodded without looking at him. Why wouldn’t she look at him? He struggled to keep pace with her, maybe he should eat something. His legs felt heavy as he willed them onwards, the effect of the firewhisky suddenly in full force. They continued silently towards the dungeons and Severus was unnerved by Valentine’s quietness.

He wasn’t sure whether he was feeling brave because of the copious amount of alcohol he had consumed, or because he hadn’t thought of Lily in hours- but he reached for her hand and placed in the crook of his arm. Valentine raised her eyebrows at the contact but didn’t stop or speak, just continued walking in silence. When they reached her quarters, Valentine stopped and opened the door and stood expectantly. “Well?” she said, “Are you coming in?” Severus’ expression was pained. He wanted nothing more than to stay with her, but he had promised himself. He was sober enough to remember that, at least. “I probably shouldn’t,” he muttered. “I don’t think I could trust myself not to…” he didn’t finish his sentence but gestured vaguely in front of him. If he wasn’t mistaken, he could see a flash of hurt dance over Valentine’s face. She turned to enter the room but stopped herself before she reached the door and turned fast on her heel. She approached Severus slowly until their bodies almost touched. Severus found himself barely breathing as he stared down into to Valentine’s brilliant green eyes, he acted on sheer impulse. He captured her face in his hands and brought his lips down to hers. They were like magnets finally come together, she kissed him desperately in the archway of her chambers and Severus tried to walk her backwards into the awaiting room, but Valentine pulled away with a coy smile. His arms were empty and yearned for her. Valentine backed into her room and put her hand on the door handle. “Goodnight, Professor.” She said with a sly smile and slowly shut the door.

Severus was left in the chill of the dark corridor feeling a mixture of sadness and delight. He made his way the short distance to his chambers and locked himself in for the evening. He tried his very hardest to keep the elation he felt last as long as possible, downing a bottle of Sleeping Draught and climbing into bed commencing his nightly ritual with a newfound vigour.

#severus snape #severus snape x oc #severus snape x lily #snape #pro snape #snape x oc #splitting hairs #severus snape smut #harry potter #pro severus snape #professor snape #slow burn #snape fic #eventual smut

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ladyideal · 4 years ago

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This Is Us Chapter 6

Pairing: Legolas x OC!Reader

Word Count: 3392

Warnings: Canon violence, character death

Summary: When the One Ring was found, it becomes a journey across Middle Earth to destroy it. Watch as the Fellowship is formed, and crossed the continent, where loyalty will be tested, and love will blossom at the most unexpected places.

A/n: Sorry for taking ages to write this up, but here it is! Thanks everyone for patiently waiting. But y'all know what happens here.

Chapter 5 ~ Masterlist ~ Chapter 7

An elegant ship, carved in the likeness of a swan, flows through a river. Galadriel stood in it. On shore, cloaks were fastened around each of the Fellowship with green, silver-veined leaf-brooches.

"Never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own people. May these cloaks help shield you from unfriendly eyes," The Lord of Lothlorien spoke as he watched.

As elves prepared for the departure of the Fellowship, Legolas stood among them, shifting parcels into a set of boats provided by the Galadhrim. He held up a thin wafer for Merry and Pippin to see, as they sat within one of the boats.

"Lembas! Elvish Way-bread. One small bite is enough to fill the stomach of a grown man." The elf prince announced.

You rolled your eyes at him in turn, stepping back onto the shore for last minute provisioning.

"Every league you travel south, the danger will increase. Mordor Orcs now hold the eastern shore of the Anduin." Celeborn continued. ""Nor will you find safety on the western bank. Strange creatures bearing the mark of the White Hand have been seen on our borders. Seldom do Orcs journey in the open, under the sun, yet these have done so!"

You sighed. It had to be Saruman doing, that you were sure of. You paused in your steps, and looked down. Celeborn held an ornate dagger before you.

"Le aphadar aen." (You are being tracked.)

You gently grasped it, and unsheathed it, watching as the blade glinted. "We can still finish this."

He nodded slowly. "By river you have the chance of outrunning the enemy to the Falls of Rauros."

You took one last glance at your reflection on the blade before safely sheathing it away. "It is time, Celeborn. Le hannon." (I thank you.)

"Alena," Haldir whispered, pulling the half elf into a tight hug. "Stay safe. Im mel cin." (I love you.)

They shared a quick kiss, before the marchwarden released his fiancee, and watched as she carefully climbed into the same boat with Aragorn.

"Ai! laurië lantar lassi súrien,

Yéni úntimë ve rámar aldaron!

yéni ve lintë yuldar avánier

mi oromardi lisse-miruvóreva

Andúnë pella Vardo tellumar

nu luini yassen tintilar i eleni…"

(Alas! Like gold fall the leaves in the wind,

long years numberless as the wings of the trees! The long years have passed like swift draughts of the sweet mead in lofty halls beyond the West,beneath the vaults of Varda wherein the stars tremble in the song of her voice…)

"My gift for you, Legolas, is a bow of the Galadhrim, worthy of the skill of our woodland kin," Galadriel spoke when you sat safely within the boat with Legolas steadying you.

Ever since that fateful night, you had cautiously grown fond of him. Your smiles were less forced when around him, and your laughs were infectious. Love came hard for the elven, and when it did happen, it was an immortal kind. You patted his hand as the elven prince stared in awe of the beautifully gifted carved bow.

Galadriel smiled at his thanks, and turned to Merry and Pippin next. "These are the daggers of the Noldorin. They have already seen service in war."

Pippin seemed unsure of the weapon in his hand, almost trembling.

"Do not fear, young Peregrin Took. You will find your courage." The Lady of Light spoke with a gentle smile before turning to Sam. "And for you, Samwise Gamgee: Elven rope, made of hithlain."

"Thank you, my lady," He glanced sidelong at the blades held by Merry and Pippin, then looked up hopefully. "Have you run out of those nice, shiny daggers?"

Galadriel smiled at him, but turned to Gimli, who diverted his eyes downwards.

"And what gift would a Dwarf ask of the Elves?" Galadriel spoke, her golden hair shining beneath the poignant blues and whites and greens of the forest.

Nothing." He frowned as though he was changing his mind. "Except to look upon the Lady of the Galadhrim one last time, for she is more fair than all the jewels beneath the earth."

You grinned at his words, while the elf lady giggled. He turned away to face the front of the boat before looking back at her again.

"Actually, there was one thing , ah, agh, that's quite impossible. Stupid to ask."

Once his request was fulfilled, she next turned to Aragorn. There was silence for a moment. Branches shook, a spider web's glimmering strands swayed in the wind.

"I have nothing greater to give, than the gift you will bear. Take care of her well. She only has me left." She paused, looking out at the river. "But You have your own choice to make, Aragorn, to rise above the height of all your fathers since the days of Elendil, or to fall into darkness with all that is left of your kin."

He nodded.

"Namárië. Nadath nâ i moe cerich. Dan ú-'eveditham, Elessar." (Farewell. There is much you have yet to do. We shall not meet again, Elessar.)

Aragorn nodded once more, turning away. Galadriel turned to the last of the hobbits, and handed him a crystalline vessel shaped like a teardrop, filling with a clear water and a shining light.

"Farewell, Frodo Baggins. I give you the light of Eärendil, our most beloved star." and kissed him briefly on the forehead. "May it be a light for you, in dark places, when all other lights go out."

Next, she turned to Alena, who grinned up at her grandmother. "I too have nothing to give to you, as you have the greatest gift of all. Cherish it well, my granddaughter. I have taught you well, and I hope you may come out victorious."

You watched as Alena dipped her head, and spoke quietly in return. A tender smile appeared on Galadriel before she turned to the last member of the Fellowship.

You.

"And what will the daughter of the High Valars want?" She spoke within your mind.

"You know what I wish for," You spoke instead, watching her.

There was a moment before the elf lady acquiesced with a nod of her own. "You have my word, Y/N."

And drew out a compact compass. "For when you lose sight of yourself and of the Fellowship. I hope that this will guide you in the right direction."

"Thank you," You replied, reaching out to grasp it, half in awe.

"Rinn- safelui bar." (Return safely home.)

A paddle splashed loudly into the water. As the Fellowship rows through the river, past the Elves onshore, out onto the river, leaving Lórien behind. White mountains rise starkly beneath blue skies and green trees. In the boats, Gimli talks to Legolas.

"I have taken my worst wound at this parting, having looked my last upon that which is fairest. Haugh, henceforth I will call nothing fair unless it be her gift to me."

"What was it?" The elf smirked from behind you.

"I asked her for one hair from her golden head. She gave me three."

You smiled at the interaction, paddling along. Soon it didn't take long for Legolas to take over the owing. Before long, the Fellowship's boats passed through a canyon. Alena glanced worriedly at Frodo's boat across the water, as she gently rowed hers and Aragorn's boat.

"Frodo, look! The Argonath! Long have I desired to look upon the kings of old. My kin," Aragorn spoke, lifting his head, half-smiled and tapped Frodo on the shoulder.

Two, marble white, majestic statues proudly stood on each side of the Anduin. Their left arms held aloft, their palms facing outwards in a simple gesture of warning. Voices sang out softly in the light.

"Et Eärello Endorenna utúlien. Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta!'"

(Out of the Great Sea to Middle-Earth I am come. In this place I will abide, and my heirs, unto the ending of the world!)

"Beautiful statues," You commented, laying back comfortably as Legolas rowed. Alena from your left in agreement.

"They certainly are," The half elf replied.

It didn't take long for the group to disembark on a gravel beach, a spectacular roaring waterfall behind. Boromir looks troubled, as though he was fighting a conflict within him. Frodo skirted around the Captain of the White Tower, looking afraid.

"We cross the lake at nightfall. Hide the boats and continue on foot. We approach Mordor from the north," Aragorn spoke as he carried the items from each boat onto the shore.

Alena and Legolas left the makeshift camp to hunt for any nearby game. You and the hobbits started making camp, a little more cozier than just the dirt and sand for comfort.

"Oh, yes?! It's just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil? An impassable labyrinth of razor sharp rocks! And after that, it gets even better!" Gimli sarcastically replied, dragging the heavier weapons towards where Sam was forming rocks in a circle.

"Frodo, Merry, let us gather wood for the fire," Boromir beckoned the two hobbits away. Frodo's eyes locked onto yours briefly, and all you could recognize was the helplessness, the weight of the evil ring around his neck, and the fear, before he followed after the others.

You shook your head.

"Festering, stinking marshlands, far as the eye can see!" The dwarf continued, although half of the company was gone.

"That is our road. I suggest you take some rest and recover your strength, Master Dwarf." Aragorn drawled.

"Recover my-?! Nooo."

"We could leave now," You suggested, interjecting into the conversation with a shrug.

"No. Orcs patrol the eastern shore. We must wait for cover of darkness." Aragorn argued with a matter of fact tone.

"It is not the eastern shore that worries me. A shadow and a threat has been growing in my mind. Something draws near. I can feel it," Your gaze turned towards the dark pine woods, with a dark, brooding statue nestled amongst their needles. "We are not alone."

"Where's Frodo?" Merry piped up, returning with some wood in his arms.

“Didn't he go with you and Boromir?" You stood up, dusting the dirt off your knees.

"We got split up."

Aragorn turned his gaze toward Boromir's shield laying amongst the rest of his belongings. Then turned to you with that knowing look within his eyes.

Something bad was about to happen. Evil lurked around every crevice and corner.

You cursed loudly, sprinting after Alena and Legolas. Aragorn was hot on your heels, all the while calling for the two.

"Frodo?"

"Frodo!" Aragorn called from your right, rushing towards the hobbit. Before him was a high structure on the cliff edge, surrounded by the pines. A stairway ran up through its center, to a seat dwarfed by stone eagles on top.

You hurried to the other side of the hobbit, equally concerned. "Frodo, what happened? Where's Boromir?"

"Huh?! It has taken Boromir." The hobbit looked startled.

"Where is the Ring, Frodo?" You asked.

"Stay away!" The hobbit scrambled up and retreated from Aragorn, who went after him.

"Frodo, please," The Ranger pleaded. "I swore to protect you!"

"Can you protect me from yourself?!" The hobbit turned back to you and Aragorn, holding the ring upon his palm. "Would you destroy it?"

There was silence as the breeze blew. Slowly, the Ranger approached the hobbit, seemingly entranced by the power of it. You on the other hand, grounded your feet into the ground, refusing to let the evil sway your beliefs.

The power was small, compared to yours, but the promises within still affected you. A trial, you realized a little too late, to test your very being.

Aragorn reached out towards the Ring. With both hands slightly shaking, he closed Frodo's hand over the Ring and pushed it back towards the Hobbit's chest. "I would have gone with you to the end, into the very fires of Mordor."

"I know. Look after the others, especially Sam. He will not understand." He turned to you afterwards, and you nodded in turn.

Suddenly Aragorn straightened up, drawing his sword. "Orcs."

"Go, Frodo. Run." You grabbed your bow and an arrow. "Run!"

Quickly, you and the Ranger ran out from beneath the ruin and found a troop of Uruk-hai advancing.

Briefly, he tapped his sword once to his forehead before charging towards the nearest Uruk-hai.

You drew an arrow, and letting it go to see an Orc fell to it.

"Find the Halflings! Yaggh! Find the Halflings!" One of them chanted.

"Elendil!" Aragorn yelled, slicing two more out of his away.

In response, Legolas, Alena, and Gimli ran forward from behind the the ruin. As Legolas shot down several Uruk-hai, Gimli landed blows with his axe. While Alena sliced through multiple with her dual swords, you eagerly shot those that came too close to anyone.

Across the way, Merry and Pippin hid in a space under some fallen tree trunks, before spying Frodo close to them.

"Frodo!" Merry hissed, gaining the attention of the other hobbit.

"Hide here! Quick! Come on!" Pippin indicated a spot beside him.

Frodo glanced at them, then sadly shook his head.

"What's he doin', Merry?"

"He's leavin'."

"What?! No!" Pippin lept out of his spot and toward where Frodo hid.

"Pippin!"

Soon, both hobbits found themselves out in an open. Several Uruk-hai sprinted down the hill, towards them and brandishing their weapons, teeth bared.

"Run, Frodo! Go!" Merry quietly spoke, before cupping his hands, and shouts louder at the oncoming orcs. "Hey! Hey you! Over here!"

"Hey!"

"Over here!"

"This way!" Pippin jumped up and down, arms flailing around.

As both Hobbits ran away from Frodo, the Uruk-hai troops followed with a loud roar of anger. Taking the chance, Frodo made a break for it, running in the opposite direction.

Back at the hilltop, you, Alena, Legolas, Aragorn, and Gimli continued to fight the Uruk-hai. In one smooth move, Legolas stabbed one Uruk with an arrow then shot it out at another. Gimli wielded his axe. As Aragorn stabbed one behind his back, Alena sliced cleanly through another.

In a hurry,, Merry and Pippin ran across an old stone bridge. At its far end, they stopped in horror as the Uruk-hai closed in, both in front and from behind. As an Uruk runs up to them, raising his battleaxe, Boromir came charging into the mix, roughly knocking the Uruk back, and killing him with his own axe.

Yet more closed in.

"There's too many!" You called, slicing the head off an orc cleanly off its shoulder. Before anyone could respond, three loud horn blasts were heard from down the slope.

"The horn of Gondor!"

"Boromir!"

Aragorn was the first to run down the slope towards the sound, but numerous Uruks stood between him and Boromir. The Captain sounded the Horn of Gondor again. This time, the Uruks rose their weapons, and charged at Boromir.

"Run, hobbits! Run!" He cried out, slicing through the first of many enemies that came at him. Soon you and the rest of the Fellowship followed in kind, shooting arrows and stabbing through the troops of Uruk-hai in a futile attempt to reach the Captain.

The captain of the Uruk-hai stepped forward from within the safety of his troops, and aimed a black-fletched bow and arrow before letting go.

You briefly closed your eyes, grimacing as you heard the gasp from Boromir, and the thud as he fell to his knees.

Merry stopped in mid-throw of a rock as Boromir, in shock. As the Uruks came closer again once more, Boromir let out a battle cry, rose, and swung his sword at one, who fell.

The Uruk chieftain growled, walking down the slope. He lifted his bow, and shot again, just as Boromir turned to look at him.

A black arrow flew into Boromir's stomach. He dropped to his knees again, gasping. Merry and Pippin still stood in shock, rocks in hand. You heard a scream from beside. Was it Alena?

He dropped his heavy head again, both gasping and panting at the exertion for air. Boromir stared at them for a moment before getting back up, and swung his sword at another Uruk.

The captain shot at him one last time, in the chest. Boromir fell to his knees, and this time stayed there, swaying a little and blinking, as though he was surprised that this was it. His horn cloven into two. Merry and Pippin watched him, aghast.

In turn, they took up their swords and attacked the Uruk-hai. "Ahgh!" "For Boromir!

However the Uruk-hai simply lifted them up and carried them off. Merry and Pippin waved their arms frantically. "Help! Help!!!"

The Uruk-hai troop walked away from Boromir, wholooksed on helplessly. The captain stopped before his foe, who defiantly swallowed and glared back.With an ugly snarl,the chieftain pulled his bow back, ready to deliver the final blow.

Instead, you and Legolas both let go of your arrows, one hitting the neck, and the other at the hand. Now angry that his arrow went awry, the Uruk-hai turned to you, not noticing Aragorn until it was too late.

As Aragorn closed in on the Orc and in a flurry of swordplay, sliced his arm off and then stabbed him through the chest. The captain pulled himself up on the sword, closer to Aragorn, snarling in both pain and anger.

You let go of your arrow, watching with narrowed eyes as it hit the forehead. Before the orc could respond, the Ranger pulled his sword out of the Orc, and hacked off the Uruk-hai's head.

Panting, you and the rest of the Fellowship lowered your weapons. After a brief pause, Aragorn beelined straight for Boromir. "No!"

"Go! Go after them. Aragorn and I will catch up," You turned to the rest, whom swiftly left. Save for Alena, who hesitated, before agreeing with a nod.

Boromir, pale and bloodied, laid on his back. Aragorn kneeled beside Boromir, who grabbed the other's shoulder. "They took the little ones."

"Be still."

"Frodo! Where is Frodo?"

"I let Frodo go."

"Then you did what I could not. I tried to take the Ring from him."

"The Ring is beyond our reach now."

"Forgive me. I did not see it. I have failed you all."

"No, Boromir, you fought bravely! You have kept your honor," You spoke instead, kneeling on the other side of him. Aragorn placed a hand on an arrow protruding from the captain.

"Leave it! It is over. The world of men will fall, and all will come to darkness; and my city to ruin."

"I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I swear to you I will not let the White City fall, nor our people fail!"

"Our people? Our people." He reached for his sword. Instead, you placed the hilt in his hand, and helped Boromir clasp it to his chest. "I would have followed you my Brother, my Captain, my King!"

You placed a hand on his chest, and smiled slightly at Aragorn. "Go on. I'll follow soon."

With a kiss on the captain's forehead, the Ranger straightened up, and followed in the direction after the others.

"Boromir, son of Denethor, Captain of the White Tower," You spoke quietly, grasping his hand in your other. "Listen to me very closely."

"Y/N?" He croaked in confusion.

You leaned into his ear. "You have fought bravely, honorably. For your friends, for your people, for your country, and for Middle Earth. You have done much to keep the peace, and I need someone like you in the future."

You paused.

"Sina na- vamme i tyelde, captain. Ni indóme cen- tye en-. Tenna i lú, phata hendulya ar n- at senda. Ni am i -iel -o i valaina manwë ar vesse varda. Let sina n-.

(This is not the end, captain. I will see you again. Until the time, close your eyes and be at peace. I am the daughter of the Valar Manwë and his wife Varda. Let this be.)

Boromir's eyes brightened up at the recognition, and looked more at peace atthe words, as though he was guilty for earlier. He squeezed your hand one more time with the last of his waning strength in agreement, before closing his eyes.

And took his last breath.

N- a captain an men. Yare dagor dagornath, tye are -esse maure, yondo -o denethor.

(Be a captain for men. When Dagor Dagornath, you are in need, son of Denethor.)

Eats Everything: @asraime @mournthewicked @aspiring-ginger

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