#are you one of the people on that list perhaps?

[finelinevogue]

take care of you

summary - Aaron comes home in the middle of the night after you miss his calls, thinking something terrible has happened

word count - 1k

pairing - aaron hotchner x gf!reader

Aaron was only slightly panicking.

You had told him that you would wait up for him. You knew this case was a hard one for him and so you had promised to be there for him when he got home. You never broke a promise.

The fact that you hadn't answered his texts since he had landed back in Virginia was troubling him though.

He had barely said goodbye to his team before getting in his car and racing back home. He needed to see you and he needed to see you now.

As Aaron stopped at a red light he picked his phone back up again, taking note of the last few texts he had sent.

(10:36 PM) Aaron: Landed. Will be home soon

(10:58 PM) Aaron: Are you still up?

(11:05 PM) Aaron: Sweetheart if you're still awake can you just let me know you're okay?

Maybe it was the cynical criminal profiler in him, but you would never willingly go back on your word. It terrified him to know what kind of sick people lived in this world and how easily they could infiltrate an innocent life like yours.

Aaron was now spiralling, thinking the very worst.

He tried telling himself that you could simply be asleep, or perhaps you were in the shower - a thought he did not need to distract himself with currently - but his mind kept on coming back to the worst situations.

Kidnapped. Tortured. Assaulted. The list goes on.

As he pulled up the car onto the front drive, he made quick work of exiting and shutting everything off. Aaron didn't fumble around with his keys as he opened the door - he was too driven by motivation of seeing you to be distracted.

He called your name as he entered the front door.

"Y/N?"

No answer.

Aaron dropped the house and car keys in the porcelain bowl by the front door, not even bothering to take off his shoes or blazer like you normally make him do.

He popped his head into the first sitting room.

No one.

"Sweetheart?"

No answer.

The lights were on in the kitchen but no one was there. The sink was empty but there were freshly washed dishes on the side waiting to be put away.

"Y/N, honey?"

He strode into the lounge last and breathed the deepest sigh of relief when he noticed your body nestled deep into the sofa, blanket over your body, hair so messy and mouth open catching flies.

Aaron ran a stressed hand back over his head, thanking whatever deity he sometimes believed in for watching over you and for everything turning out to be alright.

He waisted no time in rounding the sofa.

He moved your body slightly further back into the sofa so he could perch on it too. Aaron's hand ran over your cheek, physically checking that you were okay.

His movements must have disturbed whatever REM sleep you were getting.

"Aaron?" You mumbled, focusing on whether the man in front of you was real or a figment of your imagination, "What—what’s wrong?"

He chuckled to himself.

You were always so quick to detect when something was the matter with him. You joked that the tell was all in the kind of frown he wore. Aaron didn't believe a word of it, but it was true. The subtlest of differences of his frown could mean a complete change in emotion.

This particular frown told you he was anxious. Worried about something.

Aaron's voice trembled as he spoke, “I’ve been calling you for hours. Texted you a few times too. You didn’t answer and I thought—”

You could tell he was struggling to steady himself, so you sat up from where you had been laying down and moved your body close to his. You dipped your head down to catch his eyes, bringing his focus back to you.

Your hands gently cupped each of his cheeks with tender care. His stubble was already coming through, which was a sign that this had been an exhausting case. If Aaron was even the slightest bit dishevelled you knew it was bad.

“I’m so sorry. I ran out of TV to watch and then I think I fell asleep."

"Didn't take a profiler to know you were asleep, honey. Your mouth was wide open." Aaron joked, trying to lighten the situation. It sort of worked, before he grew more serious again, “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

You nodded, leaning in to give him a kiss. It was the simplest gesture you could think of to show that you were sorry for putting him through that. You couldn't have imagined how scary that must have been for him, especially in his line of work.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologise."

"I know, but I am. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Aaron's hands come around your waist and you take it as your queue to move yours to wrap around his neck. Both of you pulled each other in for a tight hug, needing to feel the warmth of each others embrace.

You held each other for a few moments, neither one of you in a rush to let go.

“After the case we just had… I can’t lose you. I just can't.” He mumbled into your neck.

You squeezed your arms around him a little tighter before letting go slowly. He moved back in tandem with you, but moved his hands so he could cup your cheeks this time.

"I’m here.”

It was as much as you could reassure him for now.

You could see the tension melt away from Aaron. His frown of anxiety turned back to his regular frown, bordering on the smile that you were the only privileged enough person to see.

“You look exhausted." You said.

You smiled sweetly as you stroked back the hair from his forehead and pushed it back in line. The bags under his eyes were tomorrow's problem, but nothing a good night's sleep tonight couldn't fix.

Aaron gave you a tired huff, but didn't argue.

"Let me take care of you tonight, okay?” You asked.

Aaron shook his head, "That's my job to take care of you, not the other way..."

"Shut up. Tonight I’m in charge so deal with it.” You kissed him to prove that you were in charge - if only for tonight.

[the-daily-bugle-official-blog]

Dear readers, it has been a long hard road since the blip. Reuniting families, housing those in need, protecting the vulnerable. We thought the worst was over, WE WERE WRONG.

SHIELD, the Avengers, the X men and many more groups we trusted have managed for years to keep the world in the dark about the fact that there are an infinite number of parallel universes along with our own, and now people from those universes have begun to travel into our own. The implications of this are terrifying, you could be killed and replaced by an alternate version of you. Villains we believed dead could return and cause panic and destruction. The peace we fought so hard for once Thanos was defeated may be gone for good, and we were kept in the dark about it by elites, government officials and so-called 'heroes' who only want to further their own interests.

So why now? Why at such a vulnerable time are we being flooded with a barrage of foreign visitors, many of whom intend to stay? Many people wish to order a complete multiversal border shutdown until we can figure out what is going on, and I wholeheartedly agree. Already this week I saw three, yes three, spidermen swinging through the streets. If we do not put a stop to, or at least regulate multiversal travel, only chaos and destruction will follow.

So how do you protect yourself and your family? Well remember to keep tabs on all members of your family, perhaps with a word only those from your universe will know so you can rat out infiltrators. Remember to stay safe and report any mishaps or suspicious behaviour to the authorities, and to stay subscribed to the Daily Bugle to keep our business afloat, so you can learn the truth from an unbiased news source. To join our daily newsletter comment underneath one of our posts to be added to the list. Be sure to comment your thoughts about the multiverse question below, or leave an anonymous submission to get potentially featured in a later news story.

– J Jonah Jameson

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– Editor's note: Honestly I'm not sure what to add. Its the same 'guard the border' nonsense we've all heard a million times. Crime has not increased substantially as people from other universes arrive, and there are no reported cases of people being replaced by variants of themselves. If anything, new people from other universes are a great benefit, and can help give us new insights into the world we might not consider otherwise. This is just fear-mongering meant to make us afraid of of the multiverse. Personally, I feel much safer with more than one Spiderman around. Lord knows he needs some help. – J.E. - Lead Editor

@official-buckybarnes @multiverse-peterbparker @peterparker-thespiderman @peter-ben-parker @peterparker-who @the-real-peterparker

[higuchisora]

No one has any clue what the fuck the Firelights actually Do so I'm gonna dump my headcanon here as the official lore in continuation of my saga of Zaun headcanons.

The Firelights are basically like a nonprofit organization with a Robin Hood twist. Their mission is to be a stabilizing force in Zaun, trying to do whatever they can to take care of both each other and their people. Since they aren't an actual nonprofit, and Piltover doesn't give a damn about human rights, this is where the Robin Hood stuff comes in.

They have to gain their resources (food, water, medicine, etc.) Via theft. So they tend to rob Piltie ships. They try to avoid the foreign ones just to lower the risk of backlash (the foreign governments putting pressure on Piltover to crack down on them, etc.), but they'll do what they believe is necessary to get supplies (and also sometimes mistakes just happen).

They're not above violence, but they do try not to kill people just because they know it can get messy with Piltover if they do. That being said, I believe they probably have killed a few, at the very least on accident. Fights can be brutal, especially if your opponent isn't holding back like you are.

Another thing: their masks aren't just to hide their identities from their enemies. The reality is, things can happen. If they started walking around bare-faced in Zaun, it would be easy for other Zaunites to identify them and possibly give them up (whether to Silco or enforcers or whoever). So they wear them til they're back in their hideout.

The Firelights try not to operate in Zaun beyond distributing supplies or fighting Silco. This is to both prevent their identities being leaked and because they never want to be seen as a "policing" force in their own home. The last thing Ekko wants is to see his own people as "others" or "suspects". Yes, the Firelights are his family, so he seeks to protect them. But Zaun is his home, the Zaunites are his people. He IS a Zaunite, just as all the Firelights are. And he never wants any of them to forget that.

As for who he DOES fight in Zaun: in season 1, Silco is at the top of that list. However, I feel like they probably have other enemies too, even if Silco is the biggest fish (as de facto leader of Zaun at the time). The Firelights have been around (by act 2 s1) for seemingly a few years at that point. It's entirely believable they'd ruffle some feathers along the way. Perhaps a few gang leaders/drug lords (the type to either follow Silco or be desperate to usurp him) who think taking the Firelights out would be the next step towards their goals. Other enemies might include of Silco's allied chembarons and anyone who tries to attack their deliveries.

Distribution of supplies: after robbing a Piltie ship, they'd take stock of whatever they got and send anything they can spare to a connection of theirs in the rest of Zaun. I'd imagine (since they don't seem to have hospitals) to an orphanage of some kind. So, food, clothes, medical supplies, etc. Basically anything a trading ship might have that would be useful to people.

If they snag loot that happens to not be immediately useful (nonessentials like jewelry or knick-knacks or something) they'll either try to repurpose/upcycle it or they'll sell it and use the money to either buy those supplies or put towards projects (such as building tech) to help their mission.

My musings are only half fleshed out and I'm really expanding most of this on the fly as I write it. But I do like to explore the possibility that they're not as sunshine and rainbows as they might seem in their rare moments in canon (and in my post so far).

Less sunny ideas under the cut:

I saw a clip from s1 the other day of a scene that I totally forgot about. When Caitlyn first tells Ekko about the Hexcore, his first thought is about what they (he) can do with it. Namely, as a weapon. Against Silco.

And yes, his traumatizing childhood punctuated by Silco basically coming in and fucking his life up out of nowhere DOES mean it makes sense that Silco is Enemy Number One in Ekko's eyes, arguably even more than Piltover. (Because Piltover ruined the world around him, but Silco might as well have personally walked in and shot everyone he loves right in front of him. Silco IS the villain of Ekko's story, arguably more than anyone else). THAT BEING SAID, he's expressed anti-Piltover sentiments since basically the first time we meet him. So what if Silco telling Marcus to paint the Firelights as terrorists... isn't entirely baseless?

When I say terrorists of course, I really only mean to Piltover. Actual terrorists exist, but many revolutionaries are also painted as terrorists. Silco saying this and giving the bomb as "evidence" isn't just him "being evil", it MAKES SENSE because that's probably already what Piltover would think even without the fake evidence. So what if the Firelights WERE planning to attack Piltover at some point?

Maybe not the same way Silco was. At the end of the day, his whole thing is being calculating (he's also got more life experience than Ekko, who's the same age as his daughter). So Silco definitely thought through Zaun's independence plan waayyy more than Ekko has (whether or not the plan is a good one is notwithstanding, stay focused here). So maybe the Firelights kinda have this plan to like. Destroy Piltover.

Not with bombs, but to be fair, Ekko IS a smart techy guy. He's not into grenades like Jinx, but he did make those hoverboards. He designed the fans to be able to withstand the thick air in Zaun. So what if he's generally just really familiar with the ventilation system? What if he was planning on doing something similar to what happened in Season 2 (redirecting the air to Piltover), but like, worse? Maybe he'd make it so the air system was permanently pushing the Grey into Topside, and maybe he even wanted to put something else in it? Give them a taste of their own chemical warfare? It would take years to do, and might be his end goal, but really, what else would someone who's been radicalized by oppression, who's filled with all this pain and anger, who has so much innovative skill - what else would someone like that do? Lay down and take it? Considering he made the Firelights... I don't think so.

Obviously I don't think he was actually planning on doing this; I don't think they thought him or the Firelights through at all. But he's expressed interest in violence before, and he's also anti-Piltover, so I figure he has to do SOMETHING with his anger (and also as much as I love him, being that squeaky clean and perfect of a character is.... suspicious to me. Or at least not as interesting. You can't live in a world so unforgiving and come out unstained, especially with all that- understandable- anger in him). He clearly wants peace, in whatever way he can (hence he wanted to give the Hexcore to the council himself; likely to bargain for benefits for Zaun). He's hopeful, but I don't think he's necessarily naive about it. He knows that they're most likely never going to just hand it to them- or else they would've done that already. So just in case, he has a plan to take it for himself.

[nownahc]

3 with Lee Know pls!! 🥺🥺

shame | lee know

lee know x reader

main masterlist

prompts list send in an ask to request

▶• ılıılıılılıılıılı. i miss you, i'm sorry by gracie abrams

notes. super short drabble I'm sorry, I just instantly thought of this when I read the prompt, and I couldn't get my mind off of this idea...

warnings. ANGST

prompts. “I’m not jealous.”

It had been years now. Years seen he saw your face, heard your voice, smell your perfume, waited for your texts, talked to you. Still, it also has been years since he's been thinking of you non stop. Of what happened, and could have happened. So, when his best friend tells him he saw you earlier in a random shop, it feels like another stab in the heart. The painful reminder that you disapeared from his life, but you're still living in others.

He doesn't ask if you're okay or, what you looked like for he doesn't want to know. He doesn't want to know that you might have not been thinking about him daily like he does. Doesn't want to know if you're happy, otherwise guilt would eat at him for being miserable. Doesn't want to know if you found someone you could love back, otherwise shame would devour him for still not knowing how to be that person. It's not like he hadn't tried back then, to be that person, and you had tried too, to love him back. The heart doesn't choose though, and as painful as it was, you had chosen to let him go entirely. At the time, both of you had thought of this to be the best thing to do, he could forget about entirely, and you didn't have to live with the guilt of not reciprocating his feelings. Yet, it didn't help, not one bit, and he didn't want to know if you stopped feeling guilty. As selfish as it was, he liked to imagine that, by being distant, a stranger again in his life, you'd find him for the second time in his life, and this time your feelings would match his.

This same friend though, tells him about your new significant other concerned about his state of mind, Minho feel numb. He felt jealous, jealous of his friend, of the people who can live their days knowing you're in their life, jealous of his past self before his confession, jealous of his future self who he wishes finally moved on. Right now though, he has to live in this constant sadness, melanchily of knowing something dear to him slipped between his fingers.

So when his friend ask him how he's taking the news, Minho's answer matches a question his friend hadn't even asked. Perhaps, he was reassuring himself instead.

“I’m not jealous.”

[scotianostra]

Robert Burns was born on January 25th 1759 at Alloway,Ayrshire.

Let's start the day off with the biggie!

Scotland's national poet is renowned around the world, other than Queen Victoria and religious figures there are more statues around the world to oor Rabbie than anyone else.

With people celebrating today at Burns Suppers today's post will look back at this celebration, it's history and traditions.

Remember every Burns Supper is individual and may not follow the same order or include them all.

This first supper was organised on July 21st 1801, the fifth anniversary of his passing, by the Reverend Hamilton Paul for a gathering of nine ‘honest men of Ayr’. For some years there was a question over whether a woman had been in attendance, as one of those noted had the Christian name Primrose, an uncommon name for a man. The venue was his cottage in Alloway.

The first "formal" Burns supper away from home I recall was on a weekend school trip to Innerwick in 1979, at Innerwick,it was the first timeI was called a chauvinist, and probably not the last!

It introduced all the key ingredients of the Burns Suppers we see today, namely good food, plenty of drink and friends who toasted the Immortal Memory of Robert Burns as well as reciting some of his works.

Guests at this first supper were served sheep’s head; this rarely features on modern menus! While it used to be the case that a Burns Supper was a male-only affair, this is definitely not still true.

Large Burns Suppers may have a top table for the Chairman, speakers and their partners, any special guests and the organising committee (if there is one), but you can also run a smaller and less formal affair.

The menu or Bill o’ Fare will detail what the party will be eating and usually includes a list of the speeches, speakers and entertainers. You may also find the words to ‘Auld Lang Syne’, which will be sung at the end of the evening before guests depart.

Most suppers start with a grace, most commonly ‘The Selkirk Grace’ attributed to Burns.

Some hae meat and canna eat,

And some wad eat that want it,

But we hae meat and we can eat,

Sae let the Lord be Thankit!

As a celebration night, dress can be quite formal. There’s no rule obliging a kilt to be worn but this has become common evening dress for many Scots. A dinner suit or trews (tartan dress trousers) are equally acceptable.

It should be noted that it’s very unlikely that Burns himself would have worn a kilt. He was a Lowlander and the kilt is traditionally Highland dress. It was also illegal to wear a kilt between 1747–82, in the aftermath of the Jacobite Risings.

At a more traditional Burns Night, ladies might wear a black or white dress with a hint of tartan, perhaps a tartan sash pinned to the right shoulder (only a Clan Chief’s wife should wear her sash pinned to the left).

Many suppers are ‘come as you are’. If you’re the organiser, just let your guests know how formal you intend the evening to be.

The first course is traditionally soup, either Scotch broth, cock-a-leekie or Cullen skink – all good Scottish recipes using fine Scottish ingredients.

Haggis is then served either as the main course or an intermediate course, depending on how posh your do is!

The haggis is accompanied by champit tatties (mashed potato) and neeps (mashed turnip).Sometimes carrot is mixed with the neeps, although this is not traditional. Many suppers now include a whisky sauce to accompany the haggis.

If it's a big "do" yer at the Haggis will of course be delivered on a silver platter by a procession comprising the chef, the piper and the person who will address the Haggis. A whisky-bearer should also arrive to ensure the toasts are well lubricated during "The Address to the Haggis "

There is no set tune for the piper to play, I have heard of many over the years, even the Star Wars theme during a supper with the films theme! A particular favourite of mine is A Man's A Man for A' That.

Address to a Haggis.

Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,

Great Chieftain o’ the Puddin-race!

Aboon them a’ ye tak your place,

Painch, tripe, or thairm:

Weel are ye wordy of a grace

As lang ‘s my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,

Your hurdies like a distant hill,

Your pin wad help to mend a mill

In time o’ need,

While thro’ your pores the dews distil

Like amber bead.

His knife see Rustic-labour dight,

An’ cut ye up wi’ ready slight,

Trenching your gushing entrails bright,

Like onie ditch;

And then, O what a glorious sight,

Warm-reekin, rich!

Then, horn for horn, they stretch an’ strive:

Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,

Till a’ their weel-swall’d kytes belyve

Are bent like drums;

Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,

Bethankit hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout,

Or olio that wad staw a sow,

Or fricassee wad mak her spew

Wi’ perfect sconner,

Looks down wi’ sneering, scornfu’ view

On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him owre his trash,

As feckless as a wither’d rash,

His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,

His nieve a nit;

Thro’ bluidy flood or field to dash,

O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,

The trembling earth resounds his tread,

Clap in his walie nieve a blade,

He’ll make it whissle;

An’ legs, an’ arms, an’ heads will sned,

Like taps o’ thrissle.

Ye Pow’rs wha mak mankind your care,

And dish them out their bill o’ fare,

Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware

That jaups in luggies;

But, if ye wish her gratefu’ prayer,

Gie her a Haggis!

Once the Address is complete, the Addresser gives a glass of whisky to the chef and the piper, and invites the whole company to ‘toast the haggis’.

The chef will then recover the haggis and leave the room to plate this part of the meal. Sometimes the haggis is passed around the table for guests to help themselves, adding tatties and neeps from large bowls placed on the table.

After the meal, the speeches and entertainment begin in earnest, starting with a toast to the monarch, known as The Loyal Toast.

This is followed by the main toast of the night, to The Immortal Memory of Robert Burns.

The Immortal Memory should be a heartfelt toast to the genius, life and works of our National Bard. At more formal dinners this speech focuses on a theme of Burns’s works, ending with a formal toast where all guests are invited to raise their glass.

The next speech will be The Toast to the Lassies, a reflection of Burns’s ‘appreciation’ of women. Traditionally, this takes the form of a witty reflection on the relationships between men and women, ending with the men rising to toast ‘the Lassies’.

This is followed by the Reply to the Toast to the Lassies. This should also be witty and seek to correct the previous speaker’s assumptions about women. The speech often ends with rousing applause from the women present, who then rise and raise their glasses to the men, toasting ‘the Laddies’.

At larger or more formal Burns Suppers, there may be further speeches that reflect on the guests and absent friends, Scotland and a formal vote of thanks.

The speeches are followed by entertainment – often including recitations and music. The night should end with a rousing rendition of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ and three cheers, marking the end of a successful Burns Night.

Among the pics are stamps from around the world, perhaps the most interesting are from Russia, (the two together) from 1956 and Romania, from 1959. The pic with the couple is Sharleen Spiteri and Ewan Mcgregor attending a Burns Night.

[catboysalmon]

Ok angry anon

[icewindandboringhorror]

recent things and such~

[dashiellqvverty]

i cannot tell you how much it infuriates me to see headlines about starbucks losing money captioned with “boycotts work!!” like…. okay what change did starbucks make in response to losing that money?? what change did you WANT them to make? what ties to israel do they have and how would it impact israel if they cut those ties?? starbucks losing money is evidence that a boycott is HAPPENING, but not that it is “working” or achieving any particular goal. the point of a boycott isn’t simply to punish a company for being shitty, it is to force their hand to make a CHANGE. and to be absolutely clear, fuck starbucks i am all for not giving them your money. but an organized boycott with a tangible goal and choosing not to support a place are two different things.

[gibbearish]

btw its interesting the way james tries to imply that like. well the videos that have plagiarism are the ones our dumb stupid annoying patrons requested about bad topics that didnt deserve to have the effort put in to covering them well so basically its fine. like obv thats interesting on its own but moreso the fact that he doesnt actually /say/ it, or like. give a list of the videos hes referring to, just says "those videos are very clear on which ones they were" i think as a nod meaning like "yknow the ones everyones talking about". unless what hes meaning is that like they put a note in certain videos saying "this video was requested by a patron, we here at james somertom incorporated do not espouse these views" which seems unlikely to me. idk methinks maybe it's because there is indeed a lot more than people think and with all the buzz he's not sure which ones have been discovered yet or not, so putting down a solid list that missed some would look like he was still hiding things whereas putting down a fully sourced list would be admitting to wayyyy more than anyone's found yet

[thedreadblog]

Currently working on a list of the bookmarks I've saved up over the years, and it's a pleasure to read through all of them again!

Anyway, work in progress :)

[oveliagirlhaditright]

Things that sillily make me happy: the fact that in the official Buffy chess set they released, Buffy and Angel are queen and king chess pieces.

And, I mean, it just makes sense that they would do this, of course. As it looks like this set was based on early season two, as Spike and Drusilla are the king and queen pieces for black.

But Buffy and Angel being king and queen pieces works so well, since they're paired together, of course. And equal to each other... and a battle couple. And more than anything, this is great because the queen's the most powerful piece on the board and Buffy's the most powerful character in the series, of course. And her being more powerful than Angel just tracks. Because she canonically is. And this makes me think of the many times where she saved him and he was the damsel.

Anyway...

[annabthesolitarywriter]

WIP Tag Game

Thank you for the tag, @lucifers-legions!

Rules: You will be given a word. Then you share one sentence/excerpt from your WIP(s) that stars with each letter of your word!

I have been working on way too many things at once, some of which I last updated last year. I'll list the most recent ones.

You Are Safe Here - A Boromir Lives! one-shot featuring my main OC Elenna "Enna" and a bunch of new OCs I have yet to include in my Tumblr character profiles.

A Broken Boy - gift-fic for @lucifers-legions featuring my OC Mírion and her OC Cirion. Other characters may appear as well.

Ask Me Nicely - One-shot featuring My OCs Elanel and Elegil (Enna's biological parents)

A New Beginning - One-shot about Aragorn's coronation and related events featuring some other OCs that have not yet made it to my Tumblr character profiles.

Untold Feelings - One-shot featuring Elboron and my OC Eglerion. Other characters that have not yet made it to my character profiles will appear in the story.

I have others as well, but I think these will do for now.

My word is "WATER"

W - from You Are Safe Here

“What is love? I reckon it is such a misused term. Love is for children and fools who cannot be persuaded to accept reality. Love as it is described in books and folktales does not exist. And even if it did, it would be irrelevant to people such as myself. Nobles do not wed for love. They do so to establish alliances and strengthen whatever position or claim they have in life. My marriage to the Crown Prince was planned when we were both infants. We were bound to be wed so that our respective Houses could benefit from such an advantageous union. Love was never meant to be a part of the agreement. I am not going to lie by denying that it would not be a welcomed guest, but it can be easily foregone. I am no longer the silly little girl I used to be, and I would like to think that approaching worldly matters with a realistic outlook and closed heart will indeed work in my favor eventually. Do you not concur?”

“I…I do not think it is appropriate for me to voice my opinion on such a delicate issue, my lady. After all, I am but a servant.”

“It is appropriate if I ask it of you. In fact, I command it.”

Maira’s lower lip quivered. “Do you not wish to be loved?”

“My father and my siblings love me. I am loved.”

The maid smiled. “My question had a slight more romantic undertone, my lady.”

“Romantic love is the last illusion of the old order. That is all it is. A mere illusion fit only for children…”

“And fools, yes.” Maira interrupted her, earning a glance of reproach which she chose to ignore. “It sounds like you do not need my opinion at all, my lady.”

“I would like to know whether you agree with me or not. Are you afraid I will punish you if our views end up differing? Is that why you are so hesitant to talk to me? If that is the case, rest assured that nothing shall be done to you. I am simply genuinely interested in hearing what you have to say, as I presume you have plenty of things to discuss.”

“May I speak truthfully?”

“It is all I require of you.”

Maira took a deep breath, her shoulders loosening. “I…”

“You are trembling.” Elenna looked alarmed. “What is it? Are you unwell?”

“I am fine, my lady.”

“Are you certain? I am sure my lord Uncle’s physician could very well examine you. I can send for him.”

“I do not need a physician.”

The room fell into silence and Elenna stared at her maid for a long while. “You are not trembling because you are cold, are you?”

“Madam…”

“You fear me.”

“My princess…”

“Am I wrong?”

Maira gulped. “I have heard rumors about you, but I have no doubt that it is only idle gossip. Vile accusations spread by prissy ladies who have nothing better than do than slandering those who are innocent.”

“What have you heard? What did they say?”

The maid shook her head. “You are thought to be some sort of horrible tyrant, which is of course utterly untrue. Yet…”

She paused and smothered a nervous giggle. “Perhaps I should not speak of it, my lady. I would never wish for you to be upset, especially now that you are with child. You had better be careful not to…”

“I have carried my son for nearly five months and I have wept nearly every day since the nature of my condition was revealed to the court and to our people.”

“That is not the point, my lady. It should not have to be that way.”

“That is the result and we can hardly something about it, can we not? Now, do tell me. What did you hear?”

“My princess…”

“Please.”

Maira cleared her throat once more. “It is said that you slap and exert violence over all of your household members who question your orders or disagree with you on the most trivial matters. I have been your personal maid for a little over three months, but my service has been rather discontinuous and we barely interacted before our party reached Osgiliath. Even before that, I had believed the accusations to be unfounded, but since you were ill most of the time I could say whether my instincts were indeed correct. I suppose that even mean and cold-hearted individuals can be tamed by sickness and I imagine being with child takes a huge toll on one’s mental strength. It can affect one’s demeanor quite significantly and it kept me wondering. You did not strike me as a cruel lady, but I did not dare lower my guard. That is why I never spoke to you. I was afraid I would somehow anger you and that you would beat me. That is what they said you would do and I was scared. You do not strike me as a violent person and I hope I am right. I always remained silent whenever I did not share your opinion because I did not trust you. I wanted to trust you and I do want to confide in you, but I…”

She lowered her chin, her eyes to the floor. “Do you promise you will not harm me?”

Elenna frowned. “Do you disagree with me?”

Maira held her breath. “Y...yes, Madam.”

“Come. Let us go outside.”

A - from A Broken Boy

A puzzled Cirion put his training sword back into its sheath. “I thought you said we would practice for hours.”

“That was indeed the plan until I saw how poor your form is. I do not mean to be rude, but…have you ever held a sword in your lifetime?”

“Why, of course,” Cirion replied, “I think everybody has.”

“Have you ever used it though? Have you ever been taught the basics of sword fighting?”

“I cannot say that I have.” He gulped nervously. “Forgive me. I suppose I am an embarrassment to you.”

“You can still learn. Believe me, I too was rather pathetic when I first started my training.”

“How old were you then?”

“I was eight when I first stepped into the training guild, though I presume I have been training my entire life. My early childhood is filled with memories of my brother and I fighting off my father with wooden sword. We believed we would best him one day.”

“Has it ever happened?”

“No. No, it has not. Such a silly question does not even merit an answer.”

“You are perhaps the most skilled fighter I ever saw.”

He paused. “Allow me to retract my statement. You are indeed the best fighter I ever saw. Practicing with you is almost a shame because I cannot fully focus on what you do. I would rather enjoy watching you perform your routines. It is clear you are in control of your surroundings and your every movement is perfectly calculated. If I had to compare it to something with which I am slightly more familiar, I would say your routines resemble a dance. You are so gentle, yet extremely deadly.”

“Your words are highly appreciated, yet I reckon you are much too kind.  My execution is still flawed and needs refinement. Though I suppose you are right in a way. One should always be gentle when handling any weapon. I would never want to cause anyone pain.”

“Not even to your enemies?”

“No. Killings should quick and painless. The execution of that red-headed traitor was a pivotal lesson to me in that regard.”

“When was her sentence carried out? I am surprised I heard nothing of it.”

“She died a few weeks ago.”

“Do you wish to speak of it? You look troubled.”

“I wish we had gotten rid of her sooner. Perhaps my siblings would still be alive.”

Cirion remained silent. Their first meeting had not been exactly cordial, yet he had quickly grown fond of  his cousin. The younger boy was understandably withdrawn and retiring. He rarely showed fear, yet Cirion had learned to recognize small signs others might overlook or dismiss. His eyes turning slightly darker was one of them. The boy’s gray eyes had a special light to them; a light which was not of Ëa. A light which went out whenever he received bad news. He had received plenty and had hardly lost his composure, instead rationalizing his feelings and concealing them. Yet, Cirion had noticed the nearly imperceptible shaking of his wrists whenever he opened a letter with his father’s seal, how he held his breath whenever his mother’s personal physician appeared and the pain that had for a moment took over his features when told of the illness of a good friend Cirion had yet to meet. He had understood his character and his motives and had forgiven him for the attitude he had exhibited when they had first crossed paths. He was now ashamed of his own behavior, judging it too brash and hazardous. He had called him and his sisters out for being rude when he knew nothing about their past and what they had experienced. He should have been more considerate.

“Mírion,” he said as he rested a hand on his shoulder. “Look at me. It was not your fault.”

“I knew something was amiss from the beginning, but my mother trusted her and…”

He sighed. “It has become so hard for me to believe anything people say. I doubt we will ever be safe.”

“Rest assured my family will not hurt you.”

“I do not mean to offend you, but I would appreciate it if your mother left mine own alone.”

“My…my mother?”

“Shortly after your parents left Dol Amroth, I spoke to my mother and, although she did not admit to it, she…”

He paused and ran his fingers through his hair. “I am sorry, I…”

“I am not offended, cousin. Please continue.”

“Cousin?”

Cirion frowned. “What else am I to call you? We are cousins, are we not? We are family.”

“Our mothers are first cousins. We are simply related, which still baffles me.”

“How come?”

“We are so different, you and I.”

“You may be right after all. You are a lord, I am a sailor.”

“A sailor? Now, where did that come from?”

“It is my new nickname apparently.”

“Your nickname?”

“It was graciously bestowed upon me by your sister.”

“You are referring to Wyn, are you not?”

Cirion’s eyes widened. “How did you know?”

“Finnie is not the sort of girl to call people by monikers. She is far too formal for that.”

“She reminds me of her mother.”

“She’s her favorite child. She always was. They are so alike.”

“I have seen the way she looks at you. Your mother adores you.”

“She does not. I hope though that her love for me is true.”

“What do you mean? It is blatantly obvious that she worships the ground on which you walk. I cannot say that I know her well, but it seems to me that she would be utterly crushed if something happened to you.”

“Although I would die for her, I do not plan on getting hurt.”

“Are you not scared?”

“More and more people will try and harm those I love. I may not know their names or faces, but I am aware evil is always lurking about. There is no way of knowing when it will strike, but you cannot escape it.”

“You speak of it so calmly. Are you not frightened? Are you not scared of dying?”

“Death is not something to be afraid of.”

“While it is true that it is the gift of the One to the Secondborn, the thought of not knowing what awaits us beyond the Circles of the World causes me great anxiety.”

“My father’s herald once said something to me. He said that death is just another path; a person’s way to a sorrowless existence.”

“Do you agree?”

“It is difficult to provide an answer that fully sums up my feelings about it. I am certainly acquainted with the pain death brings. I am acquainted with the tears, the heartbreak, the lingering guilt that never truly abandons those who are left behind. I have mourned every single one of my siblings. I was only ten when my little brothers died and I remember feeling numb for a long time. I recall my father’s despair as well as my mother’s. I did shed tears for them, though I believe my sisters’ demise affected me much more. Perhaps it was so because they died when I was much older. While the death of my brothers caused me to feel utter numbness and disbelief, the passing of my sisters was a catalyst of rage. The screams of the maids who found them still echo in my ears. I can hear them.” He cleared his throat. “When my brothers died, I did not fully understand the meaning of death, the finality of it. Yes, I knew that they were bound to leave Ëa; I knew their fëar would possibly travel somewhere, but…part of me believed they would return to our family in a day or two. I could not stand to witness my parents crumbling. My mother’s pain, my father’s endless wailing…”

He trailed off and turned away, careful not to meet Cirion’s eyes. “They were just children. Young children. Sickly children. So sickly our entire household thought they would die long before they did. They were small and frail, but on their good days they were a menace. They loved pranking their nanny as well as other servants. Harmless nonsense, really.”

He rubbed his left eye. “I remember one time that they ruined my new shirt. Mother had gifted me this beautiful white shirt and they ruined it pouring black ink all over it. It was a birthday present so I was…mildly upset. I told them off and they never it again. I now wish they were alive to dirty all the shirts I own.”

He smothered a whimper. “They were always together. They played together, they were being tutored together, they often wore the same tabards…they died together. They were hugging when they found them. The guards at their door said my father had entered their room the night before…but it couldn’t be him…it was not him…that void-cursed harlot took his form and killed them. She confessed it right before she was executed.”

“The guards…were they your father’s kin? Were they Maiar as well?”

Mírion nodded absently, still looking away.

“Did they not notice…”

His voice cracked and the rest of the question died in his throat. Mírion buried his face in his hands.

“I wondered about that myself. I spent countless sleepless nights trying to make sense of what had happened. To me they were all traitors. I hated them all. The guards, the healers, the maids, their nanny…all of them. Their deaths seemed so senseless I had to look for a scapegoat to set my mind at ease. Of course the void-cursed harlot was already included in my list of culprits. I never liked it. The moment I saw her, I knew she was evil. I sensed it.”

“I am sorry you had to suffer so…my lord.”

Mírion’s head snapped. “What?”

“What did I say?”

“Why would you mylord me?”

“I…I thought it was appropriate.”

“It is beyond ridiculous. We are relatives.”

“I suppose you call your father my lord and you’re related to him as well.”

“That is another matter entirely.”

“How do you usually address your mother?”

“What does she have to do with anything? I am confused.”

“I would like to speak to her, if I may.”

“We were speaking about my dead brothers and you come up with such a request out of the blue?”

“I am sorry if I offended you, my lord.”

“Mírion. My name is Mírion. Call me that. Can you do it?”

“Yes, my l…”

Cirion paused as the other boy glared at him. “Of course, Mírion,” he rectified.

“Very well. Now, about your request…”

“If it is not appropriate, I do not…”

Mírion raised his hand and Cirion’s brows furrowed. “Mírion?”

“It means you ought to be quiet because I am going to speak.  I now realize it is probably a gesture which is only common among the Maiar. I must have learned it from my father. He uses it quite often.”

“I  would like to learn more about the customs of the Maiar. I should like to meet your father as well.”

“In due time, I will tell you all that I know. Tell me though, why would you like to talk to my mother?”

Mírion’s tone was strained and low. He looked as if he were in pain, but  Cirion dismissed such notion; his lips awkwardly pressed together.

“If it is not permitted, please say so.”

“It is allowed. She needs to rest and recover, but I doubt she will refuse you. I simply would like to know what you plan on discussing with her.”

“Rest assured that I will not harm her. I just would like to…”

Mírion raised a hand again. “Answer the question.”

“Trust me, I would never...”

“What are you going to tell her!?”

“Please calm down. It is my fault, you are clearly nervous and pouring your heart out to me about the horrors you endured probably was not the best idea. Though I did not directly ask you about them, it was heavily implied in my previous questions and I beg you to forgive me if I caused you any pain. I do not want to hurt anyone, I never did. I just love the sea and boats. I…”

Cirion paused as he noticed tears running down Mírion’s cheeks. He gulped. “May I?”

Mírion took a deep breath. “What now?”

He sounded exhausted.

T - from Ask Me Nicely

“Though I was born and raised in Anfalas, far from the enchanted valleys which are said to be found in the Last Homely House East of the Sea, tales of her grace of the Lady Undómiel have never been too far from my ears. Few mortal eyes have beheld the visage of the Elf-maiden who, according to those who were indeed granted the privilege of meeting her, is reminiscent of that of the most beautiful Child of Ilúvatar to ever walk Middle-earth. It is a mystery to me why such a woman would ever wish to befriend one who fled her ancestral home and was disowned by her father. Is it not degrading to a Queen?”

“Perhaps the Lady Undómiel is not as mindful of rules that are widely regarded as trivial and obsolete by all who are endowed with a discreet amount of intelligence.”

“Thread carefully, my lord. You should not be in any way caught speaking the words of rebels and traitors.”

He smirked. “Rebels…am I not married to one?”

“Pray tell, husband, how am I a rebel?”

“Running from your responsibilities, marrying a penniless archer with no prospects…it is a rather unusual comportment for a lady, do you not agree?”

“Only partly, my darling. I never engaged in dangerous talk that may inadvertently be perceived as treacherous.”

“You left Gondor long ago, yet you still speak in riddles.”

“You accused the Lady…”

She paused. “You accused Queen Arwen of not following the rules of the nobility, my lord. You called protocol trivial and obsolete, thus insulting centuries of tradition as well as doubting our Queen’s honor. I know you did not mean to cause offense, but I feel compelled to warn you.”

“The King may take my head if it please him. He may certainly have it if he deems my words uncouth and treacherous. I am for ever at his service, yet I will not change my opinion on such matters, and I will not be made to bow in order to fit into a reality to which I do not belong. I never held the people of the South in high esteem and, in my long years, I was never once met with kindness or respect whenever I ventured into the capital. I have no desire to dwell in a city in which titles and wealth are placed above integrity and good character. The Dúnedain of Arnor stand by a moral code of strength and honor and, sadly, the South has very little of both.”

“Will you once again reject the King’s offer?”

He glanced at her and hurriedly rose to his feet. “Why are you trembling? Are you cold?”

She shook her head. “I am concerned.”

“Why would you be?”

“I worry about the King’s reaction. He forgave you once, but…”

“Estel is a reasonable, sensible man. He always was. There is no reason to worry. He would probably have a laugh if he heard our conversation. Do not be troubled.”

“Estel?”

“The King.” He quipped. “His name is Estel.”

“I thought he was called Elessar. Some refer to him as Aragorn, others as Elf-stone.”

“Elessar is the Quenya term for Elf-stone. It is his regnal name.”

“It must be quite an important stone. A heirloom of some sort perhaps.”

“It is also known as the stone of Ëarendil and several decades have passed since it was given to him by the Lady Galadriel of Lothlórien.”

“The Lady Galadriel? I first came across her name as a young girl. She was the subject of several of my history lessons and I recall how my tutor reminded me he was related to her at any given occasion. I can still hear his proud remarks concerning his most illustrious ancestry sometimes.” She scoffed and giggled. “I never believed him. He was a competent teacher, but I suspect that most of his tales were fabricated.”

“Why would he lie?”

“I presume he did so in order to endear himself to me. My father valued his counsel and…”

“No. Please don’t.”

Elanel glanced at her husband and frowned. “What is wrong? Are you unwell?”

“He was old, was he not?”

Elanel sighed. “My father would have never accepted him as my husband. His opinion was important to him, that is true, but he held no relevant position at court and was not wealthy. My father had his sights set on several noblemen, all of whom were greedy and despicable.”

“It does not come as a surprise.”

“Fret not, my love, you are the only man I could ever be prevailed upon to marry. I was never interested in riches and titles.”

“I never meant to imply otherwise. Forgive my silver tongue, I beg you. I seem to constantly lose my temper whenever those filthy Southerners are mentioned. Quite a few times have I attempted to mind my manners, to conceal my contempt and ignore them, yet I have always found their pretentiousness unbearable.”

“While there is no doubt that they can be rather extravagant and ostentatious, I believe some individuals among them are indeed worthy of praise.”

“How come did you leave your home then? Had they truly been deserving of your love and affection, you would proudly still be addressed as the Lady of Anfalas.”

“My mother is the Lady of Anfalas. I am merely her daughter.” She looked away. “Her daughter…her little girl. Only a girl.”

She paused. “I am only a girl and not the son my father was promised the day I came into the world. Lords need heirs and my mother was never able to provide our family with one. To my lord father I was a disappointment, a liability.”

“I am ever grateful that we did not have a chance to meet.”

“My lord…”

“I am no lord. Please do not call me that.”

“Elegil…please do not even think of harming my father. He may have wronged me, but I would never wish to inflict any more suffering upon him. Eru knows I have caused him enough pain.”

“I cannot fault you for choosing your own fate. Had you been a daughter of mine…”

“There is no point in discussing what happened long ago. Let us not dwell in the past.”

“I have not been able to cast it out of my mind. The way your family treated you…”

“Come here.”

He sat on the bed next to her and planted a kiss on her forehead, his lips curving into a smile and his gray eyes brimming with fondness. “Never have I beheld anything more beautiful.”

“You should not jest, husband. Idle flattery does not amuse me.”

“It is said that women of the South adore being lavished with gifts and compliments.”

“Based on your earlier comments, I firmly believed you could not stand the sight of them. I was mentally preparing to jump to their defense.”

“Your assumptions were correct, wife. Every lady I have met during my travels was nothing short of insufferable.”

E - from A New Beginning

Éowyn of Rohan stood next to the youngest of the three sisters, but the latter had not noticed her; her gray eyes were fixed on a boy kneeling behind the King, her gaze briefly met his. A proud smile appeared on her face before she swiftly regained the composure required by such a solemn occasion. She motioned for the boy to turn and bowed her head once more. As soon as the King stood, she imitated him and stared quietly at the ground beneath her feet, her neck bent forward. She raised her eyes as the boy joined her and ruffled his hair as he took the vacant spot between her and the renowned golden-haired Shield-maiden.

“Are you the woman by whose hand the Witch-king of Angmar was slain?”

The White Lady jolted and instinctively gripped Lord Faramir’s hand. Lord Denethor’s youngest and only surviving son had been openly courting the lady of the Shield-arm for quite some time now and their relationship had raised many eyebrows among the nobles of the capital. They had assumed it to be a fling, a brief romance born of a passing feeling of infatuation. In Southern Gondor, it was not uncommon for high-ranking nobles to entertain dalliances with women of inferior birth and such relationships were generally looked upon favorably. The golden-haired Shield-maiden had been with met with hostility and suspicion and had now grown accustomed to being treated with contempt, which was why she had reacted so unusually to the sheer admiration and curiosity with which the voice that had addressed her so evidently brimmed.

“Forgive me, my lady. I did not mean to scare you.” Aranarth promptly cleared his throat and smiled timidly. “I humbly beg your pardon. Startling you was not at all my intention.”

Éowyn’s eyes met his and she sighed in relief, her tense muscles relaxing. “I am sorry. I suppose I did not expect anyone to speak to me.” She returned his smile. “You look quite young. Is it your first time attending a coronation ceremony?”

“Indeed, my lady. I accompanied my mother and her sisters. My father failed to come, I…”

He paused and cast an awkward glance at his boots. “My father is…”

“Aranarth.”

His eyes widened as he turned to his left. “Yes, Mother?”

“You promised you would behave today.”

“I am not sure I understand, Naneth. What have I done?”

“You should not engage in conversations with other guests before asking for permission. The lady, although very kind, is not an acquaintance.” She glanced at the Shield-maiden of Rohan and respectfully bowed her head. “I beg you to forgive my boy. He is usually well-behaved; I suppose his natural giddiness went to his head. I am certain he did not mean to be a bother; he simply struggles to contain his excitement from time to time. It is his first time visiting the South and he is not yet familiar with the customs of this land. I beg you to forgive him and I also hope that you extend that courtesy to me. I have done my very best to rear him according to the customs of his forefathers, but I am afraid he is yet to learn the meaning of propriety and decorum. If you allow me, I would like to apologize on his behalf.”

R - from Untold Feelings

“Right? What right do you speak of?”

“I…”

“What do you think happens in battle, Eglerion? Have you ever partaken in one?”

“I can’t say that I have, but, as far as I am aware, you have not been to war either. We are not currently battling anyone and your safety is paramount.”

“Why are you doing this? Why must you always be so…overprotective?”

“I always have been.”

“That does not answer my question.”

“You know what I am going to say, my lord.”

“Many people claim to care about me and I am certain some actually do, yet I could not help but notice that, over the years, you seem to have grown more and more attached to me. You hover around me more than all the members of my family and those of my household combined.”

“Had you mentioned sooner that my being here displeased you, I would have agreed not to visit you anymore.”

“I do not want that. Have I not asked you to stay?”

“You have, but…”

“I only wish for you to keep your distance in some situations. I want you to be my…friend. Only manservants constantly hover around their masters relentlessly and needlessly prying into matters that do not concern them, and I do not wish for you to be my personal attendant. I should like you to be a good friend to me. Do you understand?”

“Have I been intrusive?”

“Only a little.”

“I hope I have not been too intrusive, my lord.”

“You may have been on a few occasions.”

Eglerion gulped. “I am sorry. I did not mean to offend you.”

“There is no need for you to apologize.”

“What can I do to make amends?”

“If you insist...then you may as well stop worrying so much about me. And I should like you to speak with my brother-in-law. I do not understand why you are so dismissive of him.”

“I do not trust him, my lord.”

“Has he ever done anything that may warrant distrust on your part? I believe he has never even talked to you.”

“That is correct.”

“You have no reason to fear him, then.”

“I am not afraid of him, my lord. I simply do no trust him. Most importantly, I do not trust him around you.”

“May I ask why? Please do not tell me you are wary of him because you think he may harm me during training.”

Eglerion did not reply, his gaze drawn to the floor. Elboron scoffed. “Oh, please. At least try and come up with a better, more plausible reason.”

“Is the off-chance of you being injured not enough?”

“Everything one does could, at any moment, potentially result in injury. For instance, I could trip and twist my ankle or I could fall off my horse and break my leg.”

“I doubt such a scenario would ever occur. You have your mother’s blood.”

“What does my mother have to do with anything?”

“You are a son of Rohan.”

Elboron stiffened. “Not really, no.”

“Was your mother not the Lady Éowyn of the Shield-arm? Éomer King’s younger sister?”

“So I was told.”

Eglerion frowned. “Whatever do you mean, my lord? Surely you…”

“It is a private affair which I do not enjoy discussing.”

“If I recall correctly…you never met her.”

“She died when I was born.”

Elboron’s eyes glistened with unshed tears which threatened to roll down his cheeks. Eglerion glanced at him and rested a hand on his shoulder, ever careful not to tighten his grip on it. “Forgive me. It was uncalled for.”

“You spoke the truth. I never met her. I never shall.”

“I never thought you would cry because of something I said. I would rather die than cause you pain and I mean it. I see now that I might have accidentally hurt you far more than your sister’s husband ever did. I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me, for it was done unwillingly.”

“You have no fault. Be at ease. Though it may appear so, I am not saddened.”

“I…do not understand. You may call me a fool if you wish, but…”

“I am angry, Eglerion. I am angry at her for leaving me.”

“She did not choose her fate, my lord. I am sure that, if she were here…”

“She isn’t though, is she?”

Eglerion sighed. “I understand your pain, but…”

“No, you don’t. No one can. You do not know what it feels like to be motherless. The Lady Finduilas tried her best to fill the void…she tried so hard…”

“I thought you loved her.”

“And I do. I love her very much. But she’s not my mother. She never was. To me, she is my father’s wedded wife and mother to my siblings and I respect and love her as such. I am grateful to her, but I fear that she could never replace my mother. And it pains me because the Lady Finduilas has always been so nice and considerate. She loves me and, although the feeling is indeed reciprocated, I…I simply cannot bring myself to call her my mother.”

“I wish I could help somehow.”

“There is no way you can help. Just accept that not everything about me can be fixed. Leave it alone, will you?”

“I do not believe you need to be fixed and I would like you to agree with me. Please, don’t you ever think so lowly of yourself again. You are…quite alright as you are, if I may say so.”

-

That's it!

I hope you liked them and do let me know which one-shot you'd be most interested in reading!

Open tags!

WIP tag game!

I got tagged by @nerdanel01 which was a double treat because not only I get to share my WiPs but also I got to read excerpts from the next update of Love is a Stranger 😍​😍​😍​

Rules: You will be given a word. Then you share one sentence/excerpt from your WIP(s) that starts with each letter of your word!

Right now I have three WiPs going on: 1. Under our Darkening Skies (Boromir) - Chapter 3 2. Tales from the Lighthouse (Emmrich x Osla "Rook" Mercar, multichapter, cannon setting) 3. Small Town Horror (Emmrich x Osla, multichapter, small town AU) My key word is:

LIGHT

[L] - from Small Town Horror

"Listen, Varric, I appreciate…" Varric held out his hand. "Just… hear me out, Rook. I know you won't accept charity, so how about a deal?" "A deal?" Osla echoed warily. Varric nodded. "We help each other, just like in the old times. No handouts, no debts, just clean cut business." "Alright," said Osla, "I'm listening." "You remember my brother Bartrand?" "Of course," said Osla. The mention of Bartrand got her attention. "Tarquin told me he's had some sort of a… crisis. How is he?" "Hmm… Better than a month ago, when his head went crackers. Still nowhere near mentally stable. He's been admitted to an… institution. It was going to be temporary, initially, but with how his recovery is going so far, the doctors think it might become more of a… permanent arrangement." Osla felt a pang of guilt. She wasn't the only one going though it. Hers wasn't the only family that got broken. Suddenly her drunken antics seemed like a childish tantrum. She should get a grip. "Shit, Varric, I'm sorry," she offered lamely. "Yeah, well, it is what it is," said Varric. "But this is where you come in. You see, I need someone looking after the Tethras Farm in the meantime. How about you move in there, take care of the animals during the cold season, and uncle Varric will cover your living expenses ? Hm?" "Please don't refer to yourself as my uncle ever again," said Osla.

[I] - from Small Town Horror

In a moment of bravado, he decided to drive to the farm and check on her. Maybe something had happened. Maybe… Maybe she broke and… indulged? He was glad he himself hadn't been drinking at the party. He walked the short distance along the Main Street to the clinic, popped in the front door to grab his car keys. The ride to the Tethras Farm wasn't a long one, but it required some concentration - the country road had no street lights. As he approached the farm, he could see from afar that the windows were lit. That meant Osla was likely at home. Emmrich felt relieved. As he approached, more details became apparent: one, that the gate to the farm's frontyard was open, and two, that a silver minivan was parked right next to Osla's old pickup. Emmrich did not recognize the car. Did Osla have guests over from outside of Mournville? He read the minivan's plate - it was from the Nevarra City, which confirmed his suspicion. Emmrich felt self-conscious. Coming to check up on Osla when she was alone was one thing, but ringing her doorbell to be greeted by her family or a group of friends - that would be something else entirely. What if… what if she had a gentleman, or a lady friend over? Was that why she'd missed the party?

[G] - from Under our Darkening Skies

"(…) go," said a voice over Boromir’s head, and he felt the weight that was pinning him down lift. An outstretched hand appeared above him; Boromir took it and hauled himself upright. “Hail Boromir of the White Tower,” said the rider who had helped him up. Boromir recognized his pointed helmet with horsehair crest as the sign of the Marshal of the Mark, but even without it, his voice was familiar and gladdened Boromir’s heart. “Hail Eomer, son of Eomund!”, he said. “Ever are the Lords of Gondor welcome in the King’s Folde, and Boromir first among them,” said Eomer, who seemed to be in high spirits, still in battle frenzy. “Even when he appears mid-fight, out of thin air, no less. Now I must know, whatever were you doing in this orcish camp, alone and unarmed?” “Preparing for dinner,” said Boromir tersely.

[H] - from Tales from the Lighthouse

He saw, with some mortification, that Manfred had taken the Tevene medallion out of his satchel and was waving it at Rook, proudly displaying his plunder in front of her. “Hiss!” the spirit called out, pointing to the decoration. Emmrich saw Rook turn pale and wide-eyed. He hastily stood up, preparing to intervene. “Rook, if you would allow me to expla-” he began, but was interrupted. “That’s mine!” Rook hissed, snatched the medal with a trembling hand and clutched it to her breast. Whatever the origin of the trinket, it must have held a great value to Rook, judging by her immediate reaction. Emmrich approached her carefully, feeling everyone’s eyes on himself. “Please, accept mine and Manfred’s sincerest apologies. He didn’t mean to steal it from you, he just collects random objects that he finds interesting,” he sighed. “I will strive to watch him more carefully next time.” He could tell that his apology had only been moderately successful at mollifying Rook’s outrage. Clearly, she counted touching the medallion for a serious transgression. Her eyes remained trained on Manfred, who in turn was giving off a strong aura of alarm and confusion at her outburst - an aura that Rook, lacking magical talent, had no way of perceiving, Emmrich knew. Still, she appeared hesitant, perhaps fighting some inner battle about how to respond in this situation. At last, she came to a resolve. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, which appeared to be her preferred method of soothing her nerves. “You are welcome to look at it, Manfred, but please, ask me next time,” she told the skeleton calmly, even though Emmrich could tell how much it cost her. “I really don’t want it to get lost or damaged,” she added.

[T] - from Tales from the Lighthouse

They entered the battered pier carefully, looking for any sign of movement on the deck, detecting no one. They couldn’t see the actual deck over the board. Suddenly, an elf swung from the air on a rope and landed on the board, in an acrobatic feat. He was well out of reach of any direct attack, and no walkway has been lowered to the pier, so there was no way to arrest the newcomer. Osla took the stranger's measure. He was an adult elf, maybe a few years younger than Emmrich, which would give him well over a decade over Osla herself. Slender physique with catlike movements and a well fitting leather armor marked him as a rogue type of fighter. His skin was tan and wind-weathered, with prominent charming laugh lines surrounding his eyes. He was favoring them with a self-satisfied grin, framed by a mop of blonde hair flying in the wind. “Arainai!” growled Lucanis. “Get down here so I can end you.” “Lucanis, you know him?” Osla asked, incredulous. Lucanis frowned and was about to answer when the strange elf cut him short. “Evidently not as well as he thinks he does. I no longer belong to House Arainai, nor do I claim their name. These days, I go simply by Zevran. At my lady’s service," he bowed theatrically. “Zevran? I’ve heard that name somewhere,” said Taash. “Do not trust a word out of his mouth, Rook” warned Lucanis. “Why? Is he a rival assassin?” asked Osla. “Worse! He is a contract breaker!” said Lucanis and spat, as if the very phrase left a bad taste in his mouth. The elf uttered an exaggerated sigh. “As ever my reputation precedes me, I see,” he tutted and shook his head in mocked disbelief. “In my life, I have only ever broken a single contract (…)"

***

Tagging: @scyllas-revenge, @sotwk, @konartiste, @esta-elavaris, @dismalzelenka, @lavenderprose, @emmg, @lucifers-legions

Your word is:

TRUTH

[autopsytableromance]

Trying so hard to not just fucking hate my comms class but my professor is making it real hard

[gg-ladybug]

Actual live footage of my tumblr ecosystem syncing up like a knock-off Bluetooth device whenever a new piece of media comes out (if you weren’t already aware of that media, you are now in that fandom by reason of systemic association):

I like to imagine it as seeing your friend of 10 years in the same dark movie theatre as you— clutching their popcorn— and sat alone. Move over, darling, we’re making a day out of this.

[diltonsstrangescience]

This is the worst security I’ve seen in my entire life.

[nomaishuttle]

i do fr need to work on differentiating between "actually middleclass" and "doesnt live paycheck to paycheck" lmao bc that is something i struggle with... obviously ik i have more in common with like. even somebody whos fr middleclass disney vacations every year. I know i have more in common with them than i do with bezos but god at least i dont have to see bezos being annoying in front of me every day KJANDJKLNLJD