#i’m a little disappointed that it’s probably going to turn out to be ‘elves are the most important people and also the cause of everything | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

novemberthecatadmirer · 2 years ago

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@saurons-pr-department @shrikeseams

That’s a brilliant idea now you have given me some stupid cracky thoughts

(Making a new post because length)

(I hope these all are not offensive! Also apology for not being able to write well)

…You know it can be arranged if we be VERY shameless and crumble Canon into a ball

and treat the Aman part of the Akallabeth as not-entirely-reliable history patched up by Elendil based on limited sources

When Ar-Pharazon’s troops sailed, Noldor got warned by the Valar; of course they evacuated this time. They learned their lesson

Tirion was a LARGE city! It took time to evacuate and it took time to hide the trace

And it took time to set up all the traps

We don’t know how far exactly was Tirion from the shore? It took 1 Valinor year for Noldor to reach Alqualonde; that’s like 9 sun years but they were mostly civilians not experienced for long distance travel and they were marching in the dark.

It did not seem to take long for Earendil to reach there from the shore. However everything about Earendil reaching Valinor was so tricky, maybe the Valar intentionally made the road shorter for him and Elwing

The Valar had no intention to make the road shorter for Ar-Pharazon’s troops

Let’s say it took at least a few months?

Did Ar-Pharazon even have a Valinor map?

Maeglin jumped out of nowhere: Hi there I can show you the way to this white city filled with wonder and wealth if you let me be a lord and marry my beautiful princess cousin

Ar-Pharazon: Obviously that’s a very convincing reason to turn traitor That’s a man of culture

Maeglin took them into the mountains avoiding all the small elf settlements along the way

They did not notice they were walking in circles because Aule subtly changed the landscapes from time to time and many trees in Valinor could move on their own

Sometimes some of their soldiers just disappeared and never be seen again.

Bad for morale, but people assumed those just fled because most of them were slaves

Food poisoning further delaying their march

“I’m awfully sorry I did not know those fruits and mushrooms are poisonous to mortal men” (He knew)

Meanwhile back at shore, elves ambushed the ships they left behind

Noldor: …It feels awful to say this brings up memories

Teleri: It’s not stealing they abandoned all those pretty ships behind it’s just aggressive adoption we will treat those poor babies as our own

Sindar: You know what I definitely heard this argument before

(Meanwhile there was probably some Numenor evacuation going on)

(Tuor finally got a chance to free some slaves and fix some wrongs his descendants had done, and save those of his descendants that still wished to be saved)

(Seriously, the grandfather of your first king used to suffer as a slave then you started enslaving other people what’s wrong with Numenoreans)

After it was done Earendil sent some signals through his flying ship

“Okay we are close! Tirion is just behind that mountain. I know a good place to set up the camp.”

Ar-Pharazon made his speech to a very empty city

Under the lovely hills around Tirion there was a lovely cave complex

Earlier, House of the Mole: Yes let’s get some mining explosives to set up a trap

Sinkholes happened and trapped most of the troops

Somehow Ar-Pharazon did not fall into any of the traps which ended up with him and Maeglin wrestling at the edge of a sinkhole, trying to push each other down the edge

Maeglin: Okay this is definitely familiar at least this one does not bite

(He did not need to as king of Numenor he had a very sharp sword.)

(Elros would be VERY disappointed.)

Then a crack opened beneath them and swallowed them both

(People still argued whether it was divine intervention or the land was just being unstable after explosion. It was a little bit convenient.)

Folk of the Mole dug them out in time.

(Some of them landed quite a few kicks on Ar-Pharazon’s face in the process and ‘accidentally’ broke his arms. They argued “he’s dangerous we must disarm him first”)

Dior and others came and sang the trapped troops to sleep

Eventually everything was done

��What should we do with all the political fallout? Now we have their king and most of their troops but Sauron is still there and... do we go on to war against him?”

(Some people immediately started yelling “no that’s a terrible idea don’t start the fire again”)

“What if Sauron take this opportunity to make himself king of Numenor and get his whole control over Middle Earth. I bet he has been plotting for this result all the time.”

Then the whole world started trembling and Aman got separated away and Numenor sank and Sauron drowned

“At least Sauron got drowned that’s the silver lining?”

(Some extra-mean Maiar had secret party afterwards celebrating Sauron losing his pretty face)

I think Sauron was definitely plotting something by sending Ar-Pharazon and his strongest troops and likely the most loyal generals away to invade Aman... While he himself stayed behind.

It was like, he knew they would fail in some way and he was expecting it and actively encouraged them to believe they had a chance

I don’t think he liked Ar-Pharazon at all... (all the “getting defeated and taken as hostage” part.) I think his plan was always to make himself king of Numenor after Ar-Pharazon got dealt with in whatever way in Aman.

He could tell Numenoreans that now the gods view them as enemy and only he could save them all. It’s not like he had no experience taking over someone’s legacy? No shame in picking low hanging fruits

Also I feel he was using Ar-Pharazon to test the water... Like, how hard could he push the buttons. And what kind of reaction he could get. It would also be nice to potentially lure some Maiar or even Valar into hurting the Children. Would be neat to make a few Ainur fall.

(Of course, always extra fun to fuck some elves up. They should not be allowed to feel safe in Aman!)

Anyway Sauron was using the move to achieve multiple goals. (He was SMART! And COMPETANT!)

The only thing he did not expect was the Valar would call for help from Eru and there was actually an response and the response was EXTREME.

Look, I don’t believe any of the Ainur even the Valar would be able to even imagine it’s possible to turn the world into a BALL...

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Okay, listen to more of my stupid cracky ooc headcanon

The elves and Ainur spent a while to figure out what to do with the captured mortal men

A lot of effort was spent on figuring out what type of mindset they were on

Some of them were slaves who got promised freedom for them or their family as reward for fighting in the army

Some of them joined the army out of desperation for money.

Some of them truly believed the Valar would come to kill them all if they did not fight back (learning that their island just got sunk did not help)

Some of them had aging family members and really wanted to make their family immortal

Of course there were the awful ones came here for power and pretty elves

(Tuor tried to have a TALK with Ar-Pharazon and failed.)

Even a lot of those who came for more innocent reasons had done war crimes before

Slavery and Colonization had been very thoroughly weaved into the late Numenor society

It was a MESS

Also it was not healthy for mortal men to stay in Valinor at all

Much of the “figuring things out” part happened in Tol Eressea

Later on some little islands raised by Valar further away

Anyway

It ended up with a few mortal men settlements at the edge of the sea

Multiple islands. The troops split into multiple groups that refused to live with each other.

Lots of therapy sessions (as best as elves or Ainur could offer, which probably was not always enough)

The awful ones were banned from leaving their island

(The former slaves now living on the neighboring islands took shift monitoring them very carefully)

(Some water Maiar patrolled the area in case someone tried to kill someone or started to burn down houses. There were a few assassination attempts.)

Some of the worst ones including Ar-Pharazon chose to be put into sleep because PRIDE

Eventually the mortals left in Aman learned to build ships

Elven ships could not pass the border of Aman

Somehow the ships built and sailed by the mortals was able to leave (It was pure chaos when it happened for the first time)

Nobody knew how it worked. But also, nobody knew how the elven ships found their way to Aman as well.

Most of mortals eventually left on the ship back to the mortal world.

Some of them chose to stay. Including many former slaves who only had bad memories out there; it helped with healing when you were a world away from your past nightmare.

But many of their children desired to leave when they grew up.

Also half elves happened and not everyone chose immortality.

(There was a whole world out there to explore! Life is short for mortals.)

(And the world beyond the world after they took the Gift.)

So every once in a while there would be a ship departing from those islands, going to Middle Earth and never return.

Istari reached Middle Earth on one of those ships

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hirokiro · 2 years ago

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Prt 3 Princesses, Dragons, and Elves oh my!

When he awoke again, Gill sat up, pushing off some furs covering him. His head hurt worse than ever and his shoulder wasn’t much better. He noted a bucket and cup nearby and shifted over, immediately drinking several cups, trying to pace himself and not glug it all down.

As he drank he looked around. The torches were low but he made out a lumpy shape on one side of the bed of furs which he knew to be Lana. He didn’t see any eyes up above him but heard the heavy breathing in the darkness. Sleeping, too?

Feeling the need to get up, his keen eyes picked up some light in one direction. The cave entrance seemed to be around the corner, he had a little more sense of the cave’s vastness just looking. Automatically he headed for the light, but as he hit the corner and saw the entrance there rumbled a voice.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” The dragon’s mass shifted.

“Oh-!” Gill jumped and turned in surprise, seeing the dragon’s outline. His eyes were low, head probably on the ground, “Uh, I… huh…” he looked down in some clouded confusion. What was he doing exactly? “Not sure… I-” he understood that of course Glen wouldn’t want him wandering off.

“Forgot my situation for a moment.” he admitted after thinking, “I was going to see if I could catch the sunrise. And as a habit, scout my outside surroundings. I wasn’t even thinking, just automatically moving.”

The dragon snorted. “Likely story!”

Gill shrugged helplessly, “Honest truth. But I understand you're not trusting me.”

He glanced back outside briefly before reluctantly returning. Hahhhh, he needed fresh air, to see the sky and sunlight, feel alive!

This might be his life now.

“Perhaps I’ll let you out later.” Glen seemed to sense the elf’s disappointment.

“I would appreciate it,” Gill smiled a little, as he came back and sat down, “I’m not an indoor person. I spend around 80% of my time in the open air. I’m maybe mildly claustrophobic.”

“I’ll light the place up more, and you’ll see it’s hardly claustrophobic-inducing.”

Sitting back at the edge of the furs, Gill absent-mindedly ran a hand over them as the two’s conversation momentarily ended.

The dragon shifted, head rising as he sat up. Puffs of fire broke out as other torches set in different places were lit up, like fireflies on the far walls. And they were indeed very far.

“Tell me about yourself Gill. I’d like to get to know you a little more if you’re going to be staying here a bit.”

“I’d rather tell Lana first.” Gill replied tiredly. He glanced in her direction.

“She’s a heavy sleeper,” Glen commented for his information, “Why?”

Gill thought things over, “I’d really rather her not wake up to our conversation.”

Glen huffed impatiently, thinking, “Let’s step outside.”

They did so. It was past dawn as Gill returned to the outcropping, sitting at the edge, looking into the large pool beneath his dangling feet as the dragon stepped delicately along the boulders to keep from getting wet.

There was silence for a time.

“Lana’s not a random person to me…” Gill slowly, “I’ve got history with… a family member.”

“Ahhh!” The dragon exclaimed quietly, “Her brother Adam I presume?”

“What?” Gill started and looked up. Glen was on the nose “She’s told you about him?”

“We’ve talked about a lot of things. I know her history decently well. What’s your connection to her brother? She tells me he hasn’t…” Glen paused, “Written or sent any gifts in a while…”

Well snap. Gill wasn’t certain how to proceed.

“Wellll,” he looked to the sky for guidance, as if it could tell him how to speak.

“See… we met and became traveling companions. Along with a few other friends.” Gill felt his throat tighten a little, “I have his final letter to his sister. And his final gift.”

The dragon watched Gill keenly.

“How did it happen?”

“I’d rather explain to Lana first.” Gill reiterated, “Preferably when she’s home safe among her family.”

Glen made an impatient noise, “Understandable. But how would you do that if you’re exchanging places? If I decide to take you up on that? You really think I’d let the two of you out of my sight?”

Gill sighed, it was fair but, “I don’t know. I hoped you would trust me enough to take her home, explain, and come back to you as promised. I don’t want to stick around except maybe to… answer questions, tell some stories about him and… If… if…”

If some kind of memorial service was planned he would like to be there…

“If…?” Glen prompted curiously.

Gill stared at his hands, throat tightening more “Nothing…”

There was a bit of an awkward pause as Glen cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry. This is going to be hard on Lana… and must be very hard on you.”

Gill swallowed and got ahold of his emotions, pushing them down, “Thank you.”

More awkward silence, only the birds twittering before Glen raked his claws through the earth. “How did it happen?”

He didn’t want to keep divulging information, “I’d really prefer telling Lana,” he said again.

“Please.” Glen pressed. Gill was taken a bit off guard by the politeness.

“Well… Um…” he didn’t know how to tell Glen. “A… He… we fought a less amenable dragon I couldn’t talk down.”

The water rippled as Glen growled. Gill knew he wouldn’t like hearing that Gill had fought one of his kind before.

“Is that so?” the dragon asked with suppressed anger.

Gill nodded and looked up, making eye-contact with no fear, “You can only imagine my state of mind, hearing of her kidnapping by a dragon two days before I arrived in town to tell her family of her brother’s death by one.”

Gill saw the shock, wonder, and realization cross the dragon’s face. Glen’s eyes widened and he swore quietly. The dragon turned away with some seeming regret or a little shame, breaking eye-contact first.

“That’s quite the unfortunate coincidence,” he said quietly.

“Hence why I needed to be here first. I knew… I killed the last dragon, but I didn’t for a moment think I could kill you, from the description I got. Not alone. And I’m always for talking things out if possible first,” Gill explained, looking at his hands again, clasping them tightly, feeling emotions rising again “I just needed to get here first before the pests started putting you in a bad mood, and if she was still alive do whatever I could to save Adam’s favorite little sister. We were good friends. I couldn’t bear…” he had to pause and gather himself, “I couldn’t bear failing him in this…”

Gill looked up again, “I’m frantic. I’m desperate. Please!” he begged, “Please, let her go home. Let me take her home. I’ll come back, I swear, and do whatever you want. Look for a cure for your insomnia, or you can eat me for all I care. Don’t make people come here after her. People who don’t care about her except that if they save her they can marry her and become rich. She doesn’t deserve that!” he emphasized.

Glen watched him, eyes narrowed, appearing to contemplate.

“You seem awfully certain I can be beaten. Have you no faith in my power?” He asked in annoyance, head lifting proudly.

“All it takes is a big enough party and a clever trick.” Gill replied, “I don’t mean to be insulting but I’m from… I… never mind.” he looked away, not prepared to explain his family, it would only make things worse, “I just am fixated on the possibility and even if I have trouble believing people are good intentioned enough not to force Lana into a marriage against her will if they s…” he shook his head, “I don’t know.”

Gill ran his hands through his hair distractedly, then scratched his head, “I don’t know. I am… stressed out of my mind, and imagining all kinds of things just from past experiences. I’m normally a very optimistic person and always have a plan, but I don’t after this point. I’m too stressed out and just relieved I got this far and she’s alive and you haven’t pancaked me.”

“Pancaked?” Glen queried with bemusement.

“You half-pancaked me yesterday,” Gill replied, smiling a little.

Glen chuckled a little, “Pancaked. I’ve never heard that one before.” He looked up into the air, then huffed, “No, Gill, answer’s no. She’s staying with me.”

“Glen!” Gill rose to his feet, “You- ulf...” He stopped and sat back down, holding his head.

“Gillian?” The dragon lowered his head, peering at him, “What happened?”

The elf took a few breaths, eyes closed, “Got light-headed. I need to eat something.”

“I think you mentioned having not really eaten lately,” Glen mused, “Whyever not?”

Gill nodded, still taking slow breaths, “I did mention it… I think? I don’t normally get irrational, but the delays… and the thing that wounded me... Just… It’s not right exactly to say ‘you don’t know how much Lana means to me’ but let’s just put it like that and call it a day. I pushed myself because I knew I was getting close.”

He sighed and rubbed his pounding head until the headache subsided, “Kept telling myself, ‘One more mile, one more hill.’ I’ve been losing my mind over this.”

“Hmmm…”

He couldn’t interpret the dragon’s tone, but instead of commenting on the subject of Gill’s mental state, Glen turned away, “I’ll hunt something down for you. Actually.” he turned back. Gill looked up, squinting a little against the light as it now bothered him, “You’re coming with me.”

Gill could see no reason to, “Why? I’m better off just sitting or lying down again. I don’t think moving’s a good-”

“Don’t trust you.” Glen replied simply.

“Oh… well…” he really didn’t want to move. Especially upwards, “Must I? Not like I could take Lana very far compared to how fast- don’t you pick me-! Up!” This last part was uttered in a squeak as he was indeed lifted off the ground.

Impatiently, the dragon had swept the elf up in one paw, “No complaining.”

“No! No! No! I have a fear of-!”

The massive flapping of wings drowned out the rest of what Gill was going to say as they took off.

Once the dragon was airborne and comfortably flying he could hear the elf again, and he glanced down, hearing the panic loud and clear.

“Land! Land! Please land, land, land! Oh my god oh my god please laaand!” Gill begged.

“Calm down, I won’t drop you.” Glen grumbled, “Nothing to be afraid of.” but he could hear the begging rising steadily into hysterics.

Glen chose to ignore it until they did land a few minutes later in a large field. He put Gill down, only for the elf to curl up in a ball, rocking and hyperventilating.

“Gillian?” Glen asked anxiously, “Gill? You alright?” he crouched down, head low. What had he done?

Gill rocked and gasped tightly, breathing fast. He put a hand out, grasping the tall grass, in a full on panic attack.

The dragon rumbled worriedly, the ground vibrating, not sure what to do, “Gill?” he said again gently, breathing heat onto the small form, “Gill, it’s okay, we landed. You’re on the ground.”

The heat and rumbling ground seemed to improve the elf’s state, if transitioning from hyperventilating to sobbing could be called an improvement.

“Gill?” the dragon asked again, clearly not knowing what to do.

Gill just sobbed. Even when the dragon nudged him with his nose, he shook and sobbed hard for several minutes before he subsided.

He remained quiet for a time, calming himself, coming out of the horror. When he could think straight again he looked up, seeing the dragon frowning down.

“Are you alright, now?” Glen asked worriedly.

Gill took a few steadying breaths, panting. Now that it was over he burned with shame. Even though he knew Glen knew nothing of his past, it still bit deep knowing that a wild dragon had just reduced him to this state, had seen him at his absolute weakest. Knew his worst weakness.

“I… I’m…” he took another steadying breath, wiping at his eyes and whispered, “Please don’t fly with me, ever… I… I’m afraid of… f-flying…”

“I figured that out…” the dragon commented, then in a gentler tone, “I’m sorry, Gillian. I didn’t realize it would be this bad. Have…? Has…?” he didn’t seem to know what to say, hesitating, “Are you better?”

Gill reached to grasp the dirt on the ground, digging his fingers in, inhaling its scent, the scent of the grass, and wild flowers. He looked at the sky, at Glen, at the grass again, and identified a couple flowers near him, grounding himself.

“N-not really. B-but,” he could barely keep his voice steady, could barely speak, “I… I will be… if I just lay down for a while, and… just not move for a bit.”

He thought for a moment, “Could you… make the ground rumble again, before you go h-hunting?”

“Hunt-? Ah…. yes..” Seemed the dragon had momentarily forgotten about the whole reason they were out here. He rumbled deep in his belly, the effort vibrating through the earth.

It comforted Gill although he couldn’t say why. It just made the ground feel more real.

“Thank you.” he said quietly, closing his eyes, completely exhausted. The breeze cooled the sheen of sweat on his brow as he lay, ready to pass out.

The dragon dithered for a little. Gill heard him inhale as if to say something, before he stood and walked away, each paw also shaking the ground as they took his massive weight. A ways off he took off again, and the backlash of air swept harshly over Gill. He closed his eyes tight and dug his hands into the grass, grasping tight, afraid of being sent flying, although in actuality he felt more flattened.

Time passed and he continued trying to keep grounded, looking at the different flowers, telling himself about them and their properties, looking to see if any useful ones existed.

He dozed off eventually, too exhausted to think anymore.

~*~

#dragon #dragons #hero #adventurer #knight #fantasy #princess #rescue #elf #elves #flight #flying #panic #heights

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gossip-girl-of-middleearth · 4 years ago

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Imagine helping Legolas deal with a sprained ankle

It was all your fault, so Legolas would say.

“If you hadn’t had been so reckless, I wouldn’t have had to jump down from the boulder to assist you with the orc,” he’d complain regularly, from his position forcibly laying down in his sleeping pack with an elevated foot.

Whenever he’d try to rise again to bicker louder with you, a tending Aragorn would push him down again with a hand to his chest.

It was funny the first few days, you couldn’t lie, but now? Well, now it was just sad.

Legolas prided himself on his athletic ability, that much was obvious to you and the rest of the Fellowship early into your journey.

He’d regularly prance ahead like a young foal, or walk across snow with a smug smirk on his face. He was the strongest member there, and never let anyone forget it. This is also why he took injury the worst out of everyone.

It wasn’t, in all actuality, technically your fault. You needed help with an orc, yes, but Legolas timing his jump wrong and spraining his ankle had nothing to do with you.

Alas, he was gaining cabin fever from his immobilised state, therefore anger was bubbling in his chest—directed at you. You didn’t take it personally, but it was starting to wear down on you.

The walks through the days were slower, as Legolas would limp along with a homemade walking stick, fashioned out of a long branch.

Whenever he’d notice you or someone else looking at him over his shoulder, as he bared his teeth in wincing hurt, he’d quickly glare and push on harder.

You’d softly shake your head, but look away regardless.

It was unnatural to see an elf in such a state, like roses freezing over. Even more so, it was unnatural to see Legolas so grumpy. He was quite light-hearted at the beginning of the journey—you remember making a mental note that he’d probably be one of the best to hang around with due to so.

Alas, his sprained ankle and no doubt self-inflicted embarrassment brought the deeply rooted competitiveness out within him.

You were all sat around a fire tonight (save for Boromir and Gimli, who were off scouting the area), like many other evenings—laughing and pulling rabbit meat off of a skewer.

Legolas was a few yards away, pouting in his sleeping bag. You had brought his food to him a few minutes earlier, but he turned you away and claimed he wasn’t hungry.

“You’ll need sustenance to heal, little elf,” you laughed, trying to humour him.

All you received was a gruff grunt, and, “Don’t tell me how elves heal—I’m quite aware of my own race, thank you very much.”

You heard Pippin hissing through a wince, and bared your own teeth in cringe as you turned on your heel and headed back towards the campfire.

“Pay him no mind,” Aragorn said, leaning across to you. “Elves, especially the Mirkwood strain, are very prideful folk. He’ll come to his senses once his foot heals.”

“I can’t imagine it’ll heal anytime soon if he keeps pushing himself every day like he’s doing,” you pointed out.

Aragorn sighed. “That is entirely Thranduil’s blood coming out in him.”

“Remind me to never step foot in Mirkwood then,” you grinned.

Aragorn gave a toothy smile back, and bonked his skewer with yours in a “cheers to that” motion.

You could feel Legolas’ eyes burning into the back of your head, but paid it no mind. You didn’t dare glance over your shoulder, lest Mordor freeze over.

The rest of the camp continued on in low chatter, that is until Boromir and Gimli came rushing back—completely out of breath.

“What is it?” Aragorn asked right away.

“Orc scouts,” Boromir answered, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Thirty, give or take, approaching from the west.”

The camp looked around at each other quickly in fright, before Aragorn jumped into action. Rising to his feet, he grabbed his sword and dictated everyone else to do the same.

“We’ll meet them half way and use the element of surprise,” he said.

Legolas began rising to his own feet, though, a great deal of strained effort was noticeable on his end.

“I’m coming, I just need to get my bow,” Legolas announced, barely able to move the foot resting on a sleeping pack.

“No, not you, mellon nîn,” said Aragorn, upholding a hand and motioning for Legolas to lay down again. “Please, stay behind. Though your valiance is admirable, you will only get in the way of this fight. Rest, and fight when your ankle heals.”

Legolas’ face contorted in hurt, and you imagined this was the first time the athletic prince had ever been sidelined.

You all stood around in misplaced guilt, fiddling with your swords and avoiding eye contact with Legolas.

Finally, the elf’s jaw set, and he forcibly fell back down into sheets—turning over and pulling the covers up over his shoulder.

“We can’t leave him vulnerable,” Sam pointed out, whispering quietly as to not anger Legolas further. However, you could see his pointed ears twitching back, and knew he heard every gut-punching word.

Aragorn nodded, and turned his eyes to you. The hobbits had to stay under the protection of Aragorn, and leaving Frodo and the Ring out of sight and alone behind in the camp simply wasn’t an option.

Aragorn gestured between you and Legolas discreetly. Understanding his words, you dropped your shoulders and sighed.

“I’ll stay back and tend to the camp,” you announced.

The rest of the Fellowship gave you an apologetic look, before running off into the forest towards the orcs.

You were soon left with the silence of the camp, save for the angered breathing of Legolas and the crackling of the dimming fire.

Stood there unsure of what to do in the awkward space, you continued fiddling with the pommel of your sword, and looked at Legolas.

His back was rising and falling quickly—clearly infuriated with the whole situation. You felt bad for him, you really did, but you were still unsure of how to approach him.

Looking down to the fire again, you saw untouched skewers of meat, and arrived at a resolution.

With the food in hand, you walked over to the prince. He could hear you coming, and with every crunch of your boots on the foliage, his eyes twitched.

Sitting down beside his back, you placed a hand on the broad of his shoulder and shook him gently. “The rabbit smells really good, and has that beautiful, slightly charred smoky taste. Seems a waste to not eat it, no?”

“Not hungry,” Legolas grumbled.

“You need to heal your ankle, Legolas,” you said again, this time sterner. “You need to ea—”

“Not. Hungry.”

Thinning your lips, you shook your head down at Legolas in disappointment. “Legolas, I know you’re upset with me regarding your ankle, but holding a grudge isn’t going to—”

He swiftly turned over in his pack, and stared at the dimming fire.

“We need more firewood,” he said, glaring at the dying flames.

You followed his line of sight, and noticed he was indeed right. However, you recalled the orcs and what Aragorn expected of you.

“We’ll just have to wait for the others. I can’t leave the camp to fetch more, and I definitely can’t leave you vulnerable to—”

“Ugh! I’ll do it myself!” Legolas exclaimed. He rose swiftly and tried limping out into the woods with clenched fists and squared shoulders.

“Legolas!” you called, quickly grabbing your sword and cursing under your breath. “Wait! You shouldn’t be on that ankle!”

But he was already marching on.

Heading a few strides out into the forest, Legolas went farther and farther to find the best firewood. You ran behind him, surprised he could go so far for someone who was injured.

“Wait!” you yelled again, finally jumping out in front of him. “Go back to sleep, Legolas. Now.”

He merely glared at you, and stepped around your form—pushing on.

Groaning in frustration, you turned around and pulled on his shoulder. “I’m serious, Legolas! There are orcs out here at the moment, and I need to stay by the camp!”

“Then you can go back,” Legolas growled, forcibly shoving your hand off of his shoulder. “I don’t need to be babysat by you.”

“No,” you agreed, “but you do need my help with your ankle!”

Grabbing the bottom of his cloak, you started pulling him back towards the camp.

“Let go!” he shouted, digging his one good heel into the ground and pulling his cape back—initiating a tug of war between you both.

“No!” you denied, pulling the cloak again. “You’re coming back with me, and that’s final!”

“NO!” Pull. “I’m helping by getting firewood!”

Yank. “You’re not helping at all! You’re putting me in a tough situation instead!”

“It’s not your problem!” Tug.

“Yes, it is!” you exclaimed, pulling the cloak one more time. “It is my problem, because you’ve become a HUGE problem for the entire Fellowship!”

Upon pulling one last time, Legolas lost his footing and tripped, causing you both to fall down.

You each groaned in pain as your backs were sprawled across the foliage. Legolas was the first to sit up, but immediately yelped in pain as he did so.

He held his ankle tight, and bared his teeth as to stop himself from crying out.

“It’s worse,” he whispered, avoiding your eyes. “My ankle—I think I hurt it more.”

You stared at Legolas in horror, as he clutched said sore ankle. You sat up next to him, and ran a finger along it.

He jolted immediately, and fought back another cry by biting down on his bottom lip.

“Dammit, Legolas…” you cursed, furrowing your brows and shaking your head. “Why couldn’t you have just listened to me? You need to rest.”

Upon glaring up at him, you were taken aback, for there were unshed tears in the elf’s eyes. He was clearly holding himself back from letting them fall, as he sniffled and studied his ankle.

“Legolas?” you called softly, reaching a hand up and gently directing his chin to face you. “What’s going on with you?”

Letting the first tear fall, and swallowing the lump in his throat, Legolas spoke up in a quiet voice—finally unbottling his emotions.

“I’m supposed to be the athlete,” he said, studying your eyes before looking down again. “I was always the best in training. I’ve pushed myself through rain, mud and more, because I’ve always been the best. And now? Now I can’t even fetch firewood for my friends...”

Sympathy overtook your eyes, as you suddenly understood the elf.

“You still are the best here, Legolas,” you promised, trying to catch his eyes as he averted them. “A sprained ankle means nothing in the grand scheme of it. You are, without a doubt, the strongest one of us here. None of us think differently of you simply because you’re hurt.”

“But I feel so useless!” he exclaimed, letting a few more tears fall. “My friends are out there right now pulling their own weight against the orcs, and I’m stuck here crying on the ground because I can’t even walk.”

“But you will walk again,” you assured him, turning his chin once more. “And when that day comes—which isn’t too far off, mind you—those orcs will wish they hadn’t ever left Mordor.”

You laughed brightly for a moment in afterthought, earning a smile from Legolas.

“What?” he asked gently.

“Do you remember how you took that cave troll down in Moria?” you chuckled again, thinking of the memory. “You scaled atop the darn thing and shot two arrows into its brain!”

“Three…” Legolas sheepishly corrected, now grinning in a shy way.

“Three,” you annulled, grinning back up at him. “Trust me, Legolas. Your friends think nothing less of you than pure amazing talent. Don’t let it eat away at you.”

Legolas nodded to himself for a moment, before another sheepish grin formed on his lips. “Speaking of eating…are there any of those rabbit meat skewers still left back at camp?”

You smiled warmly, and helped him up.

He tentatively accepted your aid, and slowly wrapped an arm over your shoulder, as you helped him limp back to camp.

“C’mon, athlete. Let’s get you some food.”

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scottpetersen · 2 years ago

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My Top 10 Most Powerful Akuma Villains

Ok. Here I’ll be going over my choices and rankings on which Akuma Villains I believe are the 10 most powerful of them all. I’ll be ranking them based on their raw power, their various abilities, how practical their powers are and how well they can perform in a given situation. With that out of the way, let’s dive right in.

#10. The Pharaoh

In 10th place, I put in The Pharaoh. In the episode ‘The Pharaoh’, before he was akumatized, he was a young historian named Jalil Kubdel who was fanatically obsessed with the history and myths of Ancient Egypt. This fanatical attitude of his would then go on to disappoint his father and get Jalil akumatized into The Pharaoh, an Akuma Villain with the powers of the Egyptian Gods. Those powers include Thoth’s power to create time bubbles that slow anyone or anything trapped inside them in time (though, Thoth is technically the God of Knowledge and Measurement; although, Measurement does technically include measuring time; so, I guess that makes sense), Sekhmet’s power of super-strength which also allows The Pharaoh to create powerful shockwaves by clapping his hands (though, Sekhmet is the Goddess of Fire, War, Dance, Love, Desert Wind and Medicine but I also heard that the super-strength power The Pharaoh has probably came from Sekhmet’s name which translates to “power” or “might” so I guess that makes sense too), Horus’s power to sprout out wings and fly (Horus is the God of the Sky; So, that makes more clear sense) and Anubis’s power to turn people into mummies (Anubis is the God of Death; So, I actually think it makes sense considering that mummies are undead). I think the reason why a couple of the Egyptian Deities’ were a bit of a stretch is because Jalil was much more of a fanatic than a believer. In the episode ‘Kwamibuster’, Jalil even thought that Egyptian pyramids were really alien spaceships that stopped on Earth because they ran out of gas. But I digress. Anyway, a YouTuber called ASLB247 said in his Miraculous Ladybug Review: Ep. 6 The Pharaoh that The Pharaoh is so powerful just after he listed all the powers The Pharaoh has probably because those powers demonstrate that The Pharaoh has quite a few powerful abilities as well as quite a bit of variety in his arsenal. This is also, in my personal opinion, why he has a spot in the #10 rank.

#9. Christ Master

In 9th place, I put in Christ Master. In the episode ‘Christ Master’, before he was akumatized, he was a bit of a bratty little boy named Chris Lahiffe. He was akumatized because Marinette Dupain-Cheng, in order to stop him from trying to look inside the box where she stored her presents for Adrien’s next 35 birthdays (that’s just plain creepy on so many levels; I’m not joking), lied to him by saying that she’s one of Santa Claus’s elves which caused Chris to desperately want a certain toy as his Christmas present early. After being akumatized into Christ Master, he had the power to bring toys to life and create a fortress made of Legos for himself. He even brought Santa Claus to life. Another impressive thing about Christ Master’s powers is that he’s able to give the toys he brought to life abilities that are akin to their real counterparts. For example, he was able to give a toy dog he brought to life a strong sense of smell. Another example is that he was able to give the Ladybug and Cat Noir toys he brought to life similar powers to the real Ladybug and Cat Noir. The Ladybug Toy had the power to create an object to help against an opponent (although, it wasn’t really as effective as the real Ladybug’s Lucky Charm) and the Cat Noir Toy a facsimile of the real Cat Noir’s Cataclysm power that can destroy anything the Cat Noir Toy touches with its right palm. Since there are so many different types of toys out there, Christ Master can potentially bring so many different types of toys with so many different types of powers to life. And as shown in ‘Christ Master’, he even used his power to make his own personal army of toys-brought-to-life. The only way Ladybug and Cat Noir were able to defeat him in the end was by getting him to give up his Akuma object willingly.

#8. Riposte

In 8th place, I put in Riposte. In the episode ‘Riposte’, before she was akumatized, she was a girl named Kagami. Her mother was a fencing champion and Kagami really wanted to live up to her mother’s fencing legacy. However, she hit a very bad bump on the road. She decided to join a fencing team as a step to live up to her mother but she had to defeat one of Mr. D’Argencourt’s students in a fencing duel to earn her spot on the team. She chose the greatest combatant who happened to be Adrien Agreste. After an intense duel, it ended in what actually looked like a tie. But Marinette, who was the only to be able to see the end of the duel, mistook Adrien for the victor. Despite Adrien’s pleas to challenge Kagami to a more decisive duel, Kagami said that “There are no second chances in my family” and drove off. During the drive, she then got akumatized into Riposte. With the power of her sword, she has a lot of raw power on her side. For example, she was able to slice the Louvre in half.

#7. The Mime

For 7th place, I put in The Mime. In the episode ‘The Mime’, before he was akumatized, he was a man named Fred Haprele. He was gonna be a lead in a night show. But things went wrong when a colleague named Chris sabotaged him by tricking into meeting at the wrong rendezvous point. This got Fred dismissed from being the lead. This got him worried that his daughter Mylene would be very disappointed in him. He then got akumatized into The Mime. With his new power, he’s able to mime any object he wants into existence. And since this is miming (albeit a magical sort), the objects he brings into existence are invisible. So, it could get a bit tricky to keep up. The possibilities are almost endless for The Mine’s power. He even used it to cut the Eiffel Tower down. The one downside for him is that he’s only able to mime into existence one thing at a time.

#6. The Evillustrator

For 6th place, I put in The Evillustrator. In the episode ‘The Evillustrator’, before he was akumatized, he was a student at College Francois Dupont High School who got akumatized after getting bullied and put in trouble for his daydreaming and sketches about being a superhero and being Marinette’s boyfriend. With his new power, he was able to bring whatever he drew to life. The possibilities for that are probably even more endless than Christ Master’s and The Mime’s powers. After all, unlike Christ Master who was limited by the fact that he still needs the toys themselves in order to bring them to life and The Mime who was limited by the fact that there are only so many things a person can mime, The Evillustrator doesn’t need an external object or need to gesture in a certain way in order to use his powers. He just needs to draw on the sketch pad attached to his arm. And there’s no limit to what can be drawn. The one downside to his power is that he can’t use it in the dark.

#5. The Collector

For 5th place, I put in The Collector. In the episode ‘The Collector’, he was Gabriel Agreste AKA Hawkmoth who purposely got himself akumatized in order to draw suspicion off him. As The Collector, his new power is pretty much the exact opposite of The Evillustrator’s. Whereas The Evillustrator is able to bring things to life by drawing them, The Collector turns anyone or anything that touches his book into drawings in its pages. He’s also able to erase the objects in the pages. And The Collector is able to throw his book like a boomerang to any distance he wants and then get it to return to him.

#4. Time Tagger

For 4th place, I put in Timetagger. In the episode ‘Timetagger’, he was an older version of Chris Lahiffe from the future who got akumatized for unknown reasons. Although, judging by the end of the episode, it looks like Lila Rossi had something to do with it. Timetagger had the power to send himself and other people through time. Time travel is extremely powerful. After all, the possibilities when it comes to changing the past and thus changing the present and future are endless. However, there’s a catch. Since it’s time travel, there would be dozens of problems. For example, there would be paradoxes and the butterfly effect. So, time travel is just as risky as it is powerful.

#3. Stormy Weather

For 3rd place, I put in Stormy Weather. In the episode ‘Stormy Weather’, she was a girl named Aurora Beaureal who got akumatized because of losing a contest with her KIDZ+ opponent Mireille Caquet by half a million votes. She was then akumatized into a villain called Stormy Weather. Her power is to control the very weather itself. But what puts her in the #3 spot for me is her power in the episode ‘Stormy Weather 2’. In that episode, Aurora got akumatized again for getting mocked for getting akumatized into a villain before. In ‘Stormy Weather 2’, Stormy Weather created a volcano that made an eruption capable of pushing planet Earth away from the sun. That type of power has to be unbelievably strong. In fact, in terms of raw power, I’d say the only Akuma villain that surpasses Stormy Weather is the one in the #1 spot.

#2. Catalyst

For 2nd place, I put in Catalyst. In the episode ‘Catalyst (Heroes’ Day - Part 1)’, she was a woman named Nathalie Sancoeur who was a loyal ally to Hawkmoth. She allowed Hawkmoth to akumatize her into a villain called Catalyst. She has the power to amplify a person’s powers. She used that power to allow Hawkmoth to use as many Akumas at once as he needed. She’s pretty lacking in terms of raw power but like I said at the start of this post, I’m also judging the Akuma villains based on how practical their powers are. And Catalyst’s power would be very practical when it comes to helping superpowered people out in a given situation. If Catalyst were to, for example, amp up Rena Rouge’s power to create illusions, Rena Rouge might be capable of creating illusions that are actually real.

#1. Cat Blanc

For 1st place, I put in Cat Blanc. In the episode ‘Cat Blanc’, he was a boy named Adrien Agreste AKA the superhero Cat Noir. In an alternate timeline, he found out Marinette’s secretly Ladybug and decided to date her. However, this set a chain of events in motion that led to his father Gabriel Agreste AKA Hawkmoth going completely over the edge and trying to akumatize him after showing him his mother in her catatonic state. But this went completely awry. After getting akumatized into Cat Blanc, he destroyed all of Paris along with both Marinette and Gabriel. Cat Blanc then spent the next few months completely alone. Cat Blanc’s power was COMPLETELY INSANE!!! He was able create a ball of destructive energy that was as big as the Milky Way galaxy. This really goes to show that he was the most powerful Akuma villain of them all.

Overall, these are my top 10 most powerful Akuma villains.

Thanks for reading.

#miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #akumas #akuma villains #the pharaoh #christ master #riposte #the mime #the evillustrator #the collector #time tagger #stormy weather #catalyst #cat blanc

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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 3 years ago

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12. All About Bilbo from the POV of...Thorin

And FINALLY I’m done. Thank you guys so much for all the notes/comments/reblogs/etc. I appreciate each and every one of you. If you haven’t been keeping up and want to see all 12 POVs, you can click on the masterlist here or I may just go ahead and post them to AO3. Please enjoy the long awaited Bagginshield conclusion. 😉

***

Thorin knew after the battle, after laying in that healing camp, after finally being free to have thoughts not consumed by his treasury, there was only one edict he could make as his first one as king: the hobbit had to stay in Erebor. An advisor, a cook, a gardener, he did not care what occupation he took. He would invent a position if he needed to! He just needed Bilbo by his side if he were to be of any use to the mountain. Of course, convincing the hobbit of this was easier said than done.

In all fairness, Thorin could have gone about it a lot better than all but demanding he stay. The hobbit ranted and raved, he seemed on the verge of lashing out physically (which Thorin would reluctantly admit he would have deserved), and he spent several long agonizing nights in Dale. Finally, Bilbo came back to inform Thorin that he would be returning to the Shire, he would be allowed six months to make his choice, and Thorin would respect it. Balin had to remind Thorin it would be within his best interest to accept. Thorin couldn’t argue with that. In fact, he needed Bilbo to know just how much he appreciated him before he left.

It was their first real conversation since the Battle. Thorin made his apologies and explained just how much the hobbit’s unconventional wisdom was needed both in his kingdom and to the king personally. In return, Bilbo expressed his fears during Thorin’s goldsickness and why exactly he turned over the Arkenstone. It was far from fixed, but it did go a long way towards regaining their former friendship. The hobbit would cite it as what finally convinced him to come back just under two years later. It should have been the happy ending Thorin had been waiting for. He never would have guessed just how wrong he was.

“I’m going to kill him.” Thorin growled.

“You’ve said that before.” Balin reminded patiently.

“This time, I’m really going to kill him. Whose idea was it to make him ambassador to the elves anyways?”

“I believe that would be...yours, Your Majesty.”

Thorin had no energy to deal with Balin’s misplaced amusement as he marched towards the hobbit’s room. He pounded on the door making sure this time that the sneaky burglar couldn’t claim not to hear him.

“I’m not answering if you’re going to be in a mood, Thorin Oakenshield.” Came the muffled response.

“You approved further negotiations after I told you I would not go to that despairing Mirkwood if my life depended on it!”

“Yes, I remember the conversation vividly.” Bilbo sighed.

“Then why…!”

“Your Majesty, if I may?” Balin interrupted. “Perhaps the hall is not the appropriate setting for this discussion.”

Thorin glared at his friend and advisor before turning that look onto the door before him.

“Let me in.” He ordered.

“Only on your word that you will quit raising your voice to me.” The hobbit conditioned.

“I will raise my voice if I please! I AM KING!”

“And with that winning attitude, who could forget?!”

“By Mahal.” Balin swore softly, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

Thorin silently fumed as he glared at the stone before him. Any that claimed dwarves were the most stubborn creatures on Arda clearly have not met Bilbo Baggins. Thorin took a deep breath to center himself before trying again.

“Master Baggins, will you please let me in so we can discuss this in private?” He all but hissed.

It was silent for a moment before the door swung open to reveal the curly haired hobbit who was currently sitting as the bane of Thorin’s very existence.

“There, was that so hard?” Bilbo answered snidely.

Thorin’s fists clenched at his side, and Balin rolled his eyes before turning to go the other way.

“I’m done with the two of you. Fetch me when you’ve figured it out or someone’s dead.”

Thorin gladly slammed the door on the traitor, leaving him and Bilbo alone. However, now that he had the hobbit before him, he found himself unfortunately speechless. He loathed that. As if his mere presence could steal all Thorin’s words away. His rather impromptu first words upon their meeting came to mind. Clearly, he was wrong about this burglar of senses.

“I’m not apologizing.” Bilbo began, crossing his arms. “They asked for a show of good faith from Erebor, and frankly I couldn’t see a reason to fault them.”

“You couldn’t?” Thorin raised a mocking eyebrow. “Clearly you remember our last stay in their wooded halls differently from me.”

Bilbo’s eyebrows furrowed with a scowl. “See! That’s exactly what I’m talking about. If you want this alliance to work, you’re going to have to bury past slights. Goodness, I couldn’t even imagine what the Shire would be if we held onto grudges the way dwarves do.”

“And I can’t imagine the state of my kingdom if I allow flippant hobbits to not hold people accountable for their actions!”

Bilbo pointed a finger at him. “You’re shouting.”

“A'lâju Mahal (Shame of Mahal)! You are...irritating!” Thorin bit back.

“So you’re saying people shouldn’t be forgiven?”

Just like that, the fire that had been steadily building in his breast was snuffed out. Still, Thorin Oakenshield did not bend completely.

“I believe there is a difference when that forgiveness is desired.”

“And I think Thranduil fits the bill...in his own way.” Bilbo shrugged under Thorin’s disbelieving look. “He’s let his son go, he’s lost Tauriel to Dale due to his actions, he’s gotten back the gems he’s been denied. I think he’s ready to make amends. I’m not saying we have to pretend he’s not hurt us. I’m just saying, it would be a good show of...neighborly airs to meet with him and see what he has to offer.”

There was logic in the hobbit’s words, even if Thorin did not want to hear them. And that simple thought probably was the single summary of all their hard feelings as of late. He turned to leave before he had to accept any more difficult truths.

“Fine. Have it your way.” He spat.

The long disappointed sigh that followed him cut quicker than any blade.

***

The journey to Esgaroth where they would spend the night before continuing into the dreaded woods the next day was...tense to say the least. Even Dwalin was uncomfortable, and that was saying something. The inn was a welcome sight if only to get an ale and free Thorin of the abrasive atmosphere surrounding the hobbit. The man who owned the inn was tripping over himself to welcome the King of Erebor, and when Thorin was finally allowed peace in his own room, he was reluctant to leave. However, that ale was calling his name, and he waited long enough that surely the hobbit’s final meal was complete to avoid any awkwardness.

That was too little credit to the brilliant burglar. He waited until Thorin was sat down at the bar halfway through his ale before he appeared at Thorin’s elbow as if out of thin air.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Bilbo demanded. “In fact, what possible excuse could you have to be angry at me if you are in fact angry?”

Thorin was choking on the amber liquid that had rushed down the wrong pipe.

“Well, you see…” He edged around his persistent cough.

“Need I remind you, I’m only doing the job you gave me. Going back further than that, I’m only here in Erebor because you insisted I be.”

“If you would just let me…” Thorin growled only to be interrupted again.

“Is this some sort of punishment for taking the Arkenstone? You lure me back with words of forgiveness and then argue with every single decision I make when I’m only trying to help…”

“IT’S BECAUSE I LOVE YOU! You confounded creature!”

Thorin nearly sighed in relief to finally see the hobbit’s mouth had stopped moving. It was as he took in the widened eyes and nervous stance that his words were able to catch up to him. His hands shook as his eyes darted around the significantly quieter room.

“You love me?” Bilbo whispered.

Thorin didn’t want to have to deal with this in front of all these men and dwarves, especially Dwalin’s irritating smirk. Grabbing the hobbit’s hand, he led him into the hallway where it was a little more private.

“You love me?” Bilbo repeated once they were alone.

Thorin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was one secret he had hoped to hold onto for a little while longer. Not that he was never going to act on his feelings, just he was waiting for a little more time to pass. For the chasm between them to be bridged stably once more. But they hadn’t been able to stop arguing! He certainly didn’t expect Bilbo to accept him right now, but he also would not lie to him.

“Yes.” He answered, holding steady for the ire that was sure to erupt.

Instead, the hobbit all but flung himself at the dwarf king, his mouth immediately meeting Thorin’s. It was abrupt, it was warm, it was wet, and it was wonderful. When Bilbo pulled away it was to utter a phrase he never even allowed himself to hope to hear.

“Thorin, take me to bed. Now.”

The dwarf’s jaw dropped at the invitation and the open lust dilating the hobbit’s pupils.

“Wait. Now?” Thorin repeated, his mind whirling but not connecting.

“Now.” Bilbo asserted as he wrapped his arms around Thorin’s neck to kiss him again.

“Shouldn’t we...discuss...this?” Thorin persisted through their kissing, rather stupidly in his opinion.

One that seemed to be shared by the hobbit if his sigh and impatient glare were anything to go off.

“Discuss what?” Bilbo demanded. “I love you. You love me. I’ve bloody been waiting for you to do something about it for months. Now are we going upstairs...or would you rather we postpone until after our meeting with the elves?”

Thorin all but slung the hobbit in his arms making his way as quickly as he could to his bedroom. The sly, conniving, extremely frustrating hobbit. And finally, finally he would be his.

#follower event #all about bilbo #bagginshield #thilbo #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield

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esotheria-sims · 3 years ago

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At the same time outside the castle, lady Ginevra and her epic sleeves show up at the gate. Ambrose had been given instructions to invite her in if she comes by, seeing as she and Feanor still had some, ahem, unfinished business from last time.

She was a little disappointed surprised, however, not to find him there when she entered the salon. Lady Aruena informed her that her brother was busy in the study, but that she was welcome to stay and wait for him.

* * *

Having finished his research on parenting, Feanor steps out of the study and finds Aruena and lady Ginevra engaged in a lively conversation. The latter’s full attention now on the elven prince, she aims her sweet, radiant smile at him like a lethal weapon. We get a pop-up message telling us how Ginna thinks Feanor’s simply the coolest sim around and how she’s been spreading the good word to everyone she knows. As a result, Feanor’s reputation meter gets a nice big boost, meaning that he’s: A) definitely more popular than his sister now, and B) close to reaching a 100% Adoration Rating! 😂

There was also something more than just friendly chatter going on between these two, since, apparently, they’re now in love. I don’t want to know what they were doing on that couch while I wasn’t looking! 😂 Feanor’s memory panel gave nothing away so I’m guessing it was innocent enough. Probably.

Aaaand sure enough, the second Feanor turned his back, Ginevra went straight for the books in the elves’ private study. :/ I didn’t want to believe this about her, but her constant forays into personal papers were very sus and that thought bubble just cemented it for me: lady Ginevra is secretly a schemer! :-x

#sims 2 #ts2 #sims #gameplay #bacc #wb gameplay #wyverns bay #moonfeather #moonfeather week 2 #aruena moonfeather #feanor moonfeather #ambrose gui #wb townies #ginevra danes #mine

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lambden · 3 years ago

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What better way to break in a new blog than by immediately posting fic? In honour of Nightmare of the Wolf, here’s some Vesemir and Filavandrel!

(read on AO3)

M, 2.9K words, no warnings, Vesemir recognizes Jaskier’s lute when he arrives at Kaer Morhen

Vesemir has been expecting this day for decades. It’s rare for witchers to meet a trusted companion out on the Path, and even rarer to find one who wishes to travel alongside them. But the reputation of witchers has changed in recent years, for better or worse. Their focus is no longer on maintaining the traditional practices of their schools, but on protection— of other witchers, and of helpless commoners. Perhaps the humans can sense that change.

More curiously, the folklore surrounding witchers has changed. Vesemir very badly wants to meet the man who has done so much to change the narrative, but years pass and all Geralt brings home every winter are stories. The younger witchers entertain (and tease) him but no one ever asks where the bard goes during the cold months that Geralt spends at Kaer Morhen. Perhaps even Geralt doesn’t know.

Finally, after hundreds of stories of Geralt-and-Dandelion, Vesemir receives a letter one autumn before he himself has even considered the journey home. His chest warms as he reads Geralt’s careful penmanship, noting how the ink blots at the start of each new sentence. The paper and wax are fine, suggesting that Jaskier used his academic connections to perhaps land Geralt a few contracts near Oxenfurt. Geralt’s lettering may be nearly flawless but his message is stilted, reminding Vesemir of when his pups were nervous children. Does Jaskier really make him act this awkward? Their relationship must be serious, then.

I am hoping you will welcome my guest with open arms, or I fear he may freeze over the coming months. Vesemir looks for a signature but there is none, save a very fancy G at the bottom. No returning address has been provided either, and while he could easily pen a missive to Oxenfurt, it’s probably best not to respond. Each day Nilfgaard only grows stronger, and crueler. Perhaps Jaskier has been caught up in their hunger for power. Vesemir folds the letter up and hides it in his saddlebag.

When the frost begins creeping in, the oldest Wolf begins his trek up the mountain. He’s almost always the first one to arrive; Coën had beaten him to it once and apologized for weeks, and Vesemir would do anything to avoid that again. And if he makes an effort to arrive early this year so that he can make the Keep look as important as it is, well… nobody needs to know.

It takes a week and a half before Geralt arrives, Jaskier in tow. Vesemir spends the time flushing out a bat infestation and dealing with the most perishable of his spoils from the past year. The White Wolf seems to bring the cold with him most years but Vesemir, cognizant of Jaskier’s inferior body, made sure to set out enough furs in advance. As soon as he hears Roach’s hooves approaching he starts a roaring fire, and when the inner doors of Kaer Morhen burst open, Vesemir is ready to make a great first impression.

Upon seeing him, Geralt smiles right away, crossing the room to greet him. Vesemir looks him over; no obvious new scars, no missing body parts. Must have been an uneventful year, but… Geralt is here, safe and alive, so Vesemir allows himself some private, selfish, unwitcherly joy. It’s the sort of thing Deglan would have lectured him for. He finds he doesn’t care.

“I got your letter,” he tells Geralt, who nods solemnly. “I thought it best not to reply. Is Nilfgaard on your trail?”

“Our trail,” Geralt sighs, stepping aside so that Vesemir can meet his companion. “Vesemir, this is Jaskier.”

The bard, dwarfed by a large fur coat, moves forward so that Vesemir can properly scrutinize him. He certainly doesn’t look his age, but Vesemir knows he’s travelled as far as any witcher has gone, and seen sights no human should really have witnessed. “Oh, I’ve heard plenty about you, Jaskier. I was wondering when Geralt was finally going to bring you along for the winter!” That makes Jaskier perk up, and Vesemir chuckles. “I promise that no harm will come to you here.”

“Thank you,” Jaskier says. “Geralt doesn’t like sharing much about the other witchers, but I’m sure you must have a wealth of stories for me to hear!” Sure enough, Geralt frowns. “And I don’t know how much help I’ll be with hunting or gathering, but I would be happy to regale you on the coldest nights—”

And before Vesemir can read into that unfortunate phrasing, Jaskier shrugs off his fur coat to produce a lute. He must have been wearing it strapped around his front on the journey through the mountains, not wanting to condemn such a fine instrument to being jostled around in Roach’s saddlebags. Vesemir squints at the red-brown wood and the golden details under the strings. They almost look like a particular elven design.

Oh. Vesemir’s realization nearly bowls him over. Geralt and Jaskier stare at him, respectively concerned and curious, but Vesemir can’t take his eyes off the lute. “My apologies, I… I forgot something in my chamber. Make yourselves at home, and… I’ll leave you to it.” He leaves without any further explanation, hastening to his quarters and abandoning the pair of them to their own devices. He can still feel their gazes drilling into his back but he suddenly feels weaker than usual.

---

“I heard there was a witcher skulking around this forest,” the spy says. Vesemir is almost relieved to hear them speak; he’s been glancing over his shoulder for nearly an hour now to try and reveal an invisible pursuer. He should’ve known he was right. Just because the spy doesn’t lumber like a human or reek of magic like a monster doesn’t mean he won’t be in trouble.

He stops in the middle of the path, still facing forward. He’s got a sneaking suspicion that the second he turns, a very unfriendly knife is going to introduce itself to his ribcage. Or perhaps an arrow, although he hasn’t heard the sound of anything and he’s been listening very closely.

His pursuer approaches. Fuck, they’re light on their feet. If Vesemir was just an average bandit, he’d be done for. He braces himself for an attack, balling his hands up into fists at his sides. The stranger continues, tone still pleasant enough, “Why not stay in town? A warm bed must beat trudging through mud in the early hours of the morning trying to find ground. I’ll give you some advice, witcher; there’s no dry ground. You’re heading towards a swamp.”

“They wouldn’t let me stay in town,” Vesemir admits, already grumpy. He whirls around and sees the stranger; a lean man, just slightly shorter than him. The long hood of their cloak casts a dark shadow over their face, blocking them from view. “If you’re here to rob me, I hate to disappoint, but you’ve followed me all this way for nothing.”

He holds up his empty coinpurse; not to prove himself, just to complain. The stranger titters, a lovely, high-pitched sound like glass clinking against glass, like chimes. Like birdsong. Vesemir’s eyes narrow. “That’s a shame,” they say. “You do love coin.”

There’s something disturbingly familiar about the words. Vesemir decides to gamble with his own life, stalking forward until he’s face to face with the stranger. Up close, his scent is even stronger. Frowning, Vesemir is about to reveal the man’s identity when he does it himself, pushing his hood back. His hair is tied up in complex braids unlike any Vesemir has ever seen, only a few loose strands hanging down over his forehead. But it would take more than a lifetime for Vesemir to forget that face.

“Fil,” he declares, delighted, and doesn’t think twice before crashing into the elf. Filavandrel laughs again and though it makes Vesemir feel a little silly, the sound still fills his heart with joy. He embraces his friend tightly, clinging to him for so long that both their boots sink down into the flooded dark soil of the forest. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s like I told you.” The elf pats the back of Vesemir’s neck, unwittingly sending a shiver down his spine. Vesemir’s grip tightens. “My scouts said I might find a witcher lost in the woods.”

“I’m not lost,” Vesemir grunts, finally pulling away. “I just… don’t know where I’m going.”

“Come to my camp,” suggests Filavandrel. As if he even had to ask.

Unsurprisingly, elves make their camps much differently than witchers do. When they arrive Vesemir doesn’t immediately see any sort of bedroll, and then he feels embarrassed for looking. He never feels this way around anyone else; he can make bawdy jokes with Sven or blatantly hit on Luka, but in the company of Filavandrel aén Fidháil, shame bursts through him so easily.

Maybe he just has a thing for pretty blondes who he leaves behind.

Except Fil is here, smiling indulgently as Vesemir gapes like a fool. “It’s nice,” he finally manages to say. “Want me to set a fire?”

“A campfire, sure. Not a big one,” Filavandrel teases. Swallowing, Vesemir turns to a firepit that the elf must have fashioned himself. He takes a bundle of wood that’s already been cut and easily ignites it, all the while trying to figure out why his heart is pounding so damn loud. Thank fuck that Filavandrel isn’t a witcher.

“Have you eaten?”

“No. You?”

“I was going to have some bread, and go hunting in the morning.” There’s a small noise and when Vesemir turns to look, his friend is holding out a large chunk of bread. It doesn’t even look that stale. Vesemir sees that Filavandrel has taken a much smaller piece for himself and growls about it, but the elf snatches the smaller piece away before Vesemir can lunge for it. “I don’t want to hear any self-sacrificial bullshit about how witchers don’t need to eat. Take the damn bread, Ves.”

“... Fine,” Vesemir relents, cowed. He accepts the bread, fingertips accidentally brushing over Filavandrel’s when he takes it. It’s fucking delicious, melting in his mouth almost instantly. Seeds and herbs have been baked into it too, and Vesemir savours every bite, moaning. “You should quit being a professional elf and start a new life as a baker, fuck.”

“I can do both. It’s an old recipe, needs a stone oven. And what does being a professional elf even mean?” Filavandrel reaches up to shove him, except they aren’t very far away from each other so the push nearly knocks Vesemir off his balance. Before he can tip over onto the grass Filavandrel grabs him by the collar of his gambeson and tugs him back, and, well. Vesemir may be a witcher, but parts of him are still human.

Neither of them has to say a word; he opens for Filavandrel like he’s been thinking of nothing but this since the second they laid eyes on each other. Honestly, he sort of has. Fil runs a hand over the shaved part of his head, pressing his palm against the back of his neck to pull him in closer. Vesemir moans, chasing the taste of something sweet and acidic and magic. It certainly isn’t the fucking bread.

Afterwards they lie together by the smoldering remains of the fire, both too spent to clean themselves or dress. Vesemir glances over at the cinders and thinks about making an exit soon. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to stay with Filavandrel. He’s comfortable here, especially right now, and his friend always makes his heart feel lighter. But the Path calls to him; lying here without his weapons or armour, Vesemir can nearly hear Deglan’s scolding. And that thought is enough to ruin anyone’s afterglow.

Before he can move, Filavandrel sits up, arching his back. Vesemir turns to watch him, nearly salivating at how he looks in the low firelight. His hair is radiant, and his skin isn’t nearly flushed enough. He’s beautiful. Ethereal. Selfishly, Vesemir wishes that he’d left more marks.

Fil climbs to his feet and crosses the campsite to retrieve something out of reach. Vesemir cranes his neck to try and peek, and Filavandrel laughs kindly at him. “I was just thinking that something’s missing.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Vesemir says, lowering his head back down onto the ground. “I should have kissed you more.”

The elf pauses at that before finally demanding, “Kiss me later.” A note resounds through the air, clear and beautiful; then a chord, and another. Very soon their little clearing feels more like a fairy circle than a campground as Filavandrel plays music.

He finally walks into view, still naked, still beautiful. Now holding a lute. Vesemir tries to sit up so that he can properly see the performance but Filavandrel is faster, moving over him and then sitting atop his stomach, resting his back against Vesemir’s thighs. He plays the entire time, fingers moving adeptly over the instrument.

It’s a beautiful lute, probably made of some holy dark red wood. The golden design etched into it is mesmerizing, and the strings could have been plucked from the mane of a unicorn. Vesemir hardly spares it any attention, too wrapped up in the sight of a naked Filavandrel straddling him and singing.

He’ll only realize decades later that the elf was probably trying to court him.

Someone knocks on the door to his chambers and Vesemir jumps to his feet, caught off-guard by the sound that plucked him from his memories. He finds Jaskier waiting outside his room, toying idly with the sleeves of his doublet. Vesemir shakes his head, holding the door open for Jaskier even as he apologizes. “I’m sorry for running out earlier. I meant to give you a tour of the Keep, hopefully Geralt will have stepped up in my absence, but I am sorry—”

“No— please,” Jaskier interrupts. Once more he pulls his lute from around himself, holding it out to Vesemir. “I just… Your countenance changed dramatically upon seeing this, so…”

Fuck. “Yes,” Vesemir sighs, staring at the lute. Jaskier has managed to keep it in good condition after all this time. “I… Filavandrel and I are old friends.”

The bard’s eyes bulge out of his head but he enters Vesemir’s chambers, heading straight to the desk to perch on the edge of the chair. Vesemir finds another chair for himself, moving its previous occupant— a stack of books— onto the floor. In his defence, he hadn’t expected the tour of Kaer Morhen to begin in his personal chambers.

“He didn’t mention knowing any other witchers,” Jaskier hums. “How did you meet him?”

“You’re sure you want to know? It’s sort of a long story.” The bard just nods, eager and polite. Instantly Vesemir can see why Geralt likes him. “Alright,” he obliges, reaching for the bottle of wine on the desk. They’re going to need it. “We met long before you would have been born…”

---

South of Kaedwen, the seasons are more aligned than any other part of the Continent. The winters are crisp, the summers lazy. Filavandrel likes to spend his summers here, where the canopy of trees is thick enough to provide shade but thin enough to provide colour. Everything is verdant, the flowers calling to him as he passes each one. When he was a child he had longed to visit towns and experience human delights like festivals but now he knows better. The elves live off the land well enough anyway.

Some of the younger people in his company these days have that same yearning, and some of them even manage it. One elf who resembles Toruviel always runs off to see some different show, take in some new performance. If Filavandrel thought that she could get away with it, he would pay for her to attend Oxenfurt— she’s very good. And the upside of her risking her life just to listen to music is that she’s got a very good memory, and she always brings the songs back home.

Today she’s singing some new ode to a witcher; not that bigoted anthem of lies that the bastard warbler from Posada somehow spread through the Continent, thank the Gods. This one seems to revolve more around making the right choice, and how a real hero does good deeds not for coin or his own profit, but just to be good. Filavandrel thinks about the few witchers that he’s had the misfortune of contacting over the years, and under his breath he scoffs.

Cheesy chorus aside, the lyrics seem to have some merit. The first verse is all about some terrible monster that was taking young girls, transforming them into half-beasts. The hero witcher’s judgement fails him and he blames himself for years, even losing a lover in the process. Filavandrel scowls; despite his own experiences with witches, he doesn’t want to listen to a song written by yet another prejudiced bard.

Then the third verse lands. The witcher grows old and wise and has children of his own, and he regrets his inaction and he tries to reach out to contact his lover. But at that point his lover, who devoted his life to protecting those in danger, was too busy being King of the Silver Towers. Filavandrel stops dead in his tracks as he realizes which witcher this must have been inspired by.

The elven king huffs, starting to compose a route in his head. He thinks a trip up north is long overdue.

#vesemir #filavandrel #nightmare of the wolf #the witcher nightmare of the wolf #geraskier fic #my writing #hey did anyone else see young vesemir talking to his friend fil in the bath and think we were gonna get a Bath Scene Part Two: The Remix?

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mischievoushiddleston · 3 years ago

Text

Santa

Warnings: Smut

"So, what are you doing for Christmas?" asked Y/N's best friend as they walked through the shopping mall buying some gifts. "I don't know." -She shrugged her shoulders- "My family doesn't live here and I can't afford a flight, so I'll probably eat a convenience food and watch the Grinch." "You know you can party with me and my family, right?" she said. "Yeah, but I wouldn't feel comfortable." Y/B/F sighed, but Y/N was clear that they would continue this conversation later. She stopped and looked at them excitedly. "There's Santa!" She followed her friend's gaze to a man dressed as Santa. "So, he's here every year."

"Yes, but this Santa looks a lot younger and more handsome," she explained. "He wears a beard, how do you know he's attractive?" she asks. "I just know," she says, turning to her, "Let's make a bet!" -Y/N raised her eyebrows in confusion- "I bet you that you don't dare sit on Santa's lap." "Y/B/F, that's ridiculous, besides what would the winnings be? A candy cane?" she asks. "I'll get you a new smartphone for Christmas, but if I win, you're coming to my family's house." The bet didn't sound bad, she had to admit. She shrugged her shoulders. "Okay, watch my bags." Without another word, she walked over to Santa. He looked up at her in surprise as she stood in front of him and Y/N stared into his deep blue eyes; she wondered what he would look like without the beard, definitely handsome and not old at all. She took a deep breath and sat on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. He finally cleared his throat and tried to speak in a low voice. "So, my child, what do you want for Christmas? Have you been a good girl?" he asked and she thought she heard his voice already. She bit down on her leaned over to him and whispered in his ear. "I've been a really bad girl, Santa, I should be punished for wishing you would fuck me deep and hard with your candy cane " -He gasped and coughed. She rubbed herself over his erection-"Can you do that, Santa?" she asked, looking at him through her lashes before standing up and grabbing a candy cane from one of the elves and walking away. "You really did it!" her friend said in amazement, "I think I owe you one now, don't I?" Y/N nodded and smiled. "You do and to celebrate I'll take you out to a bar," she said and the two women left, but she looked to her Santa one last time and smiled seductively at him before they left. "All right, but I'll put the bags away first," she said and they nodded in agreement as they walked together to the apartment they shared. They quickly put their bags down and changed, her friend thinking it was smarter because she might meet someone. Although she doubted it she agreed and put on a Y/F/C dress that went just to her knees before they walked to the bar that was near the mall. Immediately, her friend went to the bar and ordered two cocktails. "I love this song!" she said and Y/N laughed as she took a sip. She looked around the bar and her breath suddenly caught when she saw Santa from earlier walk into the bar. "Let's dance." She glared at her. "You know what? Why don't you go already and I'll join you in a minute?" She looked at her, confused, before shrugging her shoulder and walking out onto the dance floor. She looked back at Santa, but he was gone; she sighed and took a sip of her drink. "So, you're a bad girl, aren't you?" She glanced to her side to see the man in the Santa costume standing next to her. "I...Um...I'm sorry. I made a bet with a friend that I wouldn't dare sit on Santa's lap," she stuttered, blushing, "And I'm sorry for what I said; I got a little carried away." She could see him smiling through his beard and everything about him looked familiar, but she couldn't tell where from. "I'm not sorry, though I'm disappointed you just left without getting your gift," he said, leaning against the bar. "After all, I don't know your name so I can bring you your gift." She bit her lip and decided to play the game. "I'm Y/N, but bad girls don't get presents I thought, Santa," she replied; he leaned closer to her. "Yes you do, but only after they've been punished for what they've done." She felt her pussy getting wetter and squeezed her legs together. "Maybe we should do it right then, so I can still get my present for Christmas." He frowned before smiling and taking her glass from her hand and setting it on the bar. "Your place or mine?" Y/N could feel her heart beating violently in her chest; she wasn't one to have sex with any strange men, but for this Santa, she could make an exception. She looked to her friend who was dancing with a man, and she knew her apartment was not an option. "Your place," she finally replied; he put a hand on the middle of her back and led her out to a black Jaguar before opening the door for her to slide in. She bit her lip as he walked around to the driver's side and drove off. "So are you going to take off the beard and tell me who you are?" He shook his head and smiled mischievously. "I'll make you an offer: for every piece of clothing you take off, I'll take off one of mine and at the end you'll learn who I am." "All right; sounds fair," she agreed and nodded; he smiled mischievously. After that, the two were silent as they drove; eventually he turned into a driveway and helped her out of the car. The house was large, but judging by the Jaguar, he could afford it. She paid no attention to the furnishings of the house as she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. He took her hand in his and led her up the stairs to the bedroom. She turned to face him as she reached behind her and pulled down the zipper, sliding the dress down her body. Y/N could hear him inhale sharply and moments later she heard him undo his belt. She looked up and bit her lip to hold back a moan as she watched him slide his pants down. She reached behind her and unclasped her bra, which slid down to the floor. He stepped to her and took her breasts in his hands; he rolled her nipples between his fingers and she moaned. With a smile, he stepped back after a few moments and slid his boxers down. She could see his slight smile through the beard and he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against him; Y/N could feel his hard erection against the fabric of her panties and moaned at the sensation. He spun her around and she braced herself against the wall. She looked over her shoulder and watched him pull her panties down. "You're so wet, is that for me?" he asked, running a finger over her pussy; she nodded, moaning. He turned her around and lifted her up; Y/N wrapped her legs around his hips as he carried her to the bed and gently laid her on it. She crawled back and he followed, kneeling between her legs. "I think it's time to reveal the secret, don't you?" she asked with a broad smile. She felt him hesitate a little, but finally he pulled off the beard and Y/N gasped when she realized who he was. "Tom Hiddleston?" "That's me," he confirmed before looking at her questioningly and raising his eyebrows. "Now do you think coming home with me was a mistake?" "I...no, it wasn't a mistake." "Good," he said simply and leaned down to her without hesitation. Tom kissed her passionately and, as he pressed his cock against her pussy, she moaned and he used the moment to push his tongue into her mouth. Finally he broke the kiss and kissed down her body. His hand moved to her pussy and pushed two fingers inside her. Y/N arched her back and moaned as he began to fuck her. When his lips had also reached her pussy, he began to suck on her clit; with his hand he held her thigh. "Tom..." she moaned, reaching into his hair. She could feel her climax building inside her, but at that moment he stopped and crawled back up her body. As he kissed her she could taste herself on his lips. Y/N wrapped her legs around his hips and could feel his cock as it pressed against her pussy. Tom grabbed her hair and gently pulled her head to the side so he could kiss her neck and nibble on the skin. She lifted her hips and let his cock slide into her a little. Tom grabbed her wrists and placed them next to her head. "Let's be clear: I'm in charge." He looked at her and she bit down as she nodded. She moaned his name loudly at the overwhelming sensation as he thrust deep into her pussy. He paused for a moment to let her adjust to him before he began thrusting into her. Tom let go of her wrist and reached for the head of the bed; he began thrusting into her at a different angle. Y/N held onto his back as he fucked her faster. "Oh...God! Tom..." she moaned over and over, throwing her head back. He caught her moan in his mouth as he pressed his lips to hers. Finally, he let go of her other hand and let it travel down to her clit before he began to rub it rapidly. She could feel her climax building inside her again and Tom broke the kiss between them and smiled at her. "Do you think you deserve to have an orgasm? It's not very good to seduce Santa, is it?" he asked, stopping his thrusts and stopping rubbing her clit. She thrust her hips up to get him to continue, but he just laughed. "Please..." she begged him, "I'll be a good girl." He leaned down to her ear. "That's too bad, I like bad girls." Before she could answer, his lips were on hers again and he began thrusting into her tight pussy again, rubbing her clit. She could feel her orgasm building inside her and her body began to shake uncontrollably before she stiffened and came. Tom thrust deep inside her a few more times, filling her with his hot cum. They both breathed heavily as they recovered from their climaxes and she gently rubbed his back. Finally he slid out of her and rolled off her. Suddenly Y/N laughed and Tom looked at her in confusion. "What?" He smiled slightly as she looked at him as well. "I never thought I'd meet you dressed as Santa," she explained. "I just wanted to make the kids happy, I didn't know I'd run into someone like you." -She pulled him down to her and kissed him. Finally, he pulled back and looked at her-"Do you want to drink cocoa? I make really good ones." "I'd love to." She smiled and he kissed her again for a moment.

#tom hiddelson #tom hiddleston smut

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make-me-imagine · 4 years ago

Text

Red Roses: “I Love You” - Loki Ending

Valentines Special: Day Nine

Day One: Morning Glories // Day Two: Blue Salvias Day Three: Sunflowers // Day Four: Pink Camellias Day Five: Yellow Tulips // Day Six: Violets Day Seven: Lisianthus // Day Eight: Daffodils (Post with rest of the character endings)

Plot: It’s finally Valentines Day, the day the reader will finally learn who it is that had been leaving them flowers and notes expressing their secret feelings.

Note: Reader is referenced to be immortal in this (a part of their mutation/powers)

Pairing: Gen!Neutral Reader x Loki

Triggers: None Words: 1,665

Requested Taglist: @aquariuslavenderhoney, @thebookbakery @spuffyfan394, @fablesrose, @kitkatd7, @thefallenbibliophilequote, @beksib, @destynelseclipsa, @criminaly-supernatural, @tammythompson-singslikea-muppet, @belloangelus, @snarky--starky, @saintbootlegloras, @wecallhimbrowneyess, @empath-bunny, @okkulta, @katinthemoon, @ravennight41, @youcancallme-rae , @radhumandragonclam, @unfortunateidiotinadilemma, @past3l-w1ngs , @goinggoinggonzo, @mxxnmocha, @lainphotography, @fred-deeks-ben, @emilythezeldafan

February 14th

It was the morning of Valentines Day, finally. It felt like it had taken forever to finally arrive. But you found yourself somewhat disappointed that it did. As you lied in your bed, staring up at the ceiling, you couldn’t help the uneasy feeling that had taken over.

No matter how much you loved the Avengers, and how open minded you were trying to be, you knew that there was only one person you had feelings for. One person that you desired your admirer to be above all others. And of course, this one person was the one you probably should not have feelings for, and was the one person who you knew it wouldn’t be.

You knew this, and you knew he was gone again, but you still had a tiny glimmer of hope beneath the disappointment and anxiety. You tried to ignore it, knowing that the longer you held onto that hope, the more disappointed you would be in the end.��

Finally getting out of bed and on with your day, you tried your best the shove the anxiety away and out of mind. Not wanting to worry about it until you absolutely had too.

- - -

The rest of the day went by much quicker than you had anticipated, your anxiety was growing as you stood in the elevator with Wanda, Natasha, Clint and Vision on the way up to the party. You eyed the others, your thoughts busy with who it could be. You hadn’t said much to any of them, and you knew that they noticed. You wondered if they knew why, if they understood how you felt.

As you entered into the room, already full of people who had arrived early just the make sure they got in. For the first time you felt a bit comforted, knowing that you could hide among the crowd, distract yourself, well, until you couldn’t.

Quickly parting from the group you walked towards the crowd looking for others you knew that weren’t the Avengers. But before you could get far, you felt someone grab your arm. Turning, you see Natasha, with Clint right behind her.

“What?” you asked, concerned.

“Are you okay?” Clint asked.

You hesitated for a moment “No” you said, your voice quieter than you meant.

Natasha shared a look with Clint before they got closer to you “This is about your admirer right?” You stared at her, nodding lightly “Yeah I thought so.”

“I don’t know if I can handle it anymore Nat. At first it was...sweet and exciting, but...the more I think about it, the more I...” you couldn’t quite put into words what you wanted to say. Would they understand if you told them who you really wanted it to be?

“You can’t picture yourself with any of them can you?” she asked.

“Only one. And they are the least likely.” you admitted.

“Loki” Clint said suddenly you looked at him with surprise.

“How did you know?”

“Oh come on Y/n, I’ve seen the way you are around him, and I’ve seen the way he is around you, your the only one of us he actually likes. Maybe it’s not as unlikely as you think.”

Looking at Nat you could tell form her face that she must have known too, you sighed “He hasn’t even been here. I’ve seen him maybe two times in the last week Clint.”

Clint and Natasha shared a look before Nat spoke “Okay, look, when he showed up with Thor that day you got hurt in the lab, and found what happened. He was angry as hell, and though he didn’t show it, I think he was scared. And, I’m pretty sure he spent a few hours in your hospital room when no one else was around.” she admitted making your heart begin pounding.

“He did?” you asked in surprise “I didn’t even know he knew about what happened.” you thought about it for a moment “But, we are friends, that- it doesn’t mean anything, it still doesn’t change the fact that he hasn’t been around, and he sure as hell isn’t here.”

Nat looked behind you “Maybe he is.”

Turning and following her line of sight, you see Thor entering the room, greeting everyone with a loud and cheerful voice. Your heart started beating in your chest. Did he come too?

Upon seeing you, Thor approached the three of you greeting you all. “Hey Thor, did Loki come?” Clint asked for you.

“Loki?” Thor laughed “Of course not. You know how much he dislikes Tony’s parties” he laughed again.

You looked at Clint and Natasha with a face of ‘I told you so.’ before sighing out “It’s good to see you Thor, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go get something to drink.” you asked before walking away, giving a parting look to Natasha and Clint.

Walking through the crowd, you left the room instead of getting a drink, you just wanted to leave. All you were now was confused. What if Loki liked you? But it still seemed unlikely that he was the one who left the flowers and notes. So what if you would have to choose. Break your admirers heart to be with Loki?

Finding a empty sitting room closed off from the party-goers, you walked over to a large window and stared out at the city. Maybe it was best you weren’t with anyone? Say no to your admirer, and no to Loki. That way there wouldn’t have to be choosing one over another.

You began to think about your relationship with Loki. You started as enemies, and then, when you heard about what happened with the dark elves, and then with Hela and Thanos, you thought he changed. Finally meeting him over a year ago, when you helped Thor and his people find a new home. He was charming and funny. Not the ruthless villain you thought he originally was. He changed. He was still mischievous and did questionable things, but over all, he was good. And you told him so enough, especially when he doubted himself.

And eventually, you became friends. He told you a lot things that he never even told Thor. And in return you told him your secrets and desires. You bonded over having forever as immortals to be who you truly wanted, to do the things you truly wanted. Was it too good to be true, for him to have grown more than just fond of you?

Through your busy thoughts, you heard a quiet noise behind you, the door? Turning around, you see the door is still closed, and there is no one in the room. But you definitely heard something. You looked around the room as you took a few steps into the middle of the room “Hello?” you asked cautiously.

Hearing another noise behind you, and seeing the light of something brighten the room slightly, you spun around, seeing a bouquet of beautiful red roses appear on the table by the window. You stared at them in awe before being startled by a voice behind you.

“Do you like them?”

Spinning back around, you see Loki standing behind you, small smile on his face, surely due to your shocked reaction. “Loki?” you asked, exasperated “It was you” you said with an air confirmation.

“Yes. Are you surprised at this?” he asked, cocking his head slightly.

You let out an exasperated breath “Well...yes, I mean. You haven’t even been here.”

“Not that you knew of you mean?” he said with a smirk “I am a sorcerer you know.”

“So you just used your magic?”

He shrugged slightly in confirmation before he took a few steps closer to you “It seemed easier that way. Less suspicious. I mean, if I were to suddenly show up the same day you began receiving those gifts, and then never left...” he trailed off as he continued to watch you as he stopped in front of you “It would be too easier to figure out.”

You stared at him, unsure of what to do “Did you really mean those things you said in your notes?”

A small, almost melancholy smile appeared on his face “Of course I did, I’m sorry you even have to question it.”

“I just...all this time, no matter how much my...feelings for you changed, I thought you only saw me as a friend.”

“Not only” he shook his head “But so much more. A friend, confidant, a partner in crime” he smirked, surely referring to the small pranks you had helped him pull around the tower in previous visits “And, the one person in all my life, that I could truly picture myself loving unconditionally. You believe more than the others that I can be good, and you are the one person I truly want to be good for.”

You became somewhat breathless as the sincerity in his voice, the way he was speaking was similar to the many confessions he had made about his past to you in secret, in confidence. “Loki-”

He cut you off by bringing his hands to your face “I love you Y/n.”

You brought your hand up and placed it on top if his, burying your face a little deeper into his palm as you looked into his eyes “I love you too Loki.”

He let out a shaky breath filled with relief as a smile grew on his face as he stroked your face with his thumb, pulling you closer to him and into a deep passionate kiss, sealing the confession permanently.

When you pulled away, he continued to stare into your eyes with a smile, that you returned. He spoke quietly “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere you want to go, I’ll take you to see the universe if you’d like, as long as it’s by my side.”

You smiled widely at him “How about everywhere?”

He smiled brightly, the thought of travelling the universe with you filling him with excitement “Everywhere it is.”

xx xx xx xx xx

Hope you liked it! Please consider reblogging if you did :) And check out the other endings if you want~

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elvish-sky · 4 years ago

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The Arms of the One You Loved {Legolas x Reader}

A.N: Thank you for the request Anon! I'm sorry it's so long, I got a little carried away. Also, I can't drink so I have no idea what being drunk is like so I hope I did ok writing it! Enjoy!

Anon request from Tumblr: Heyy, could you do a Legolas x reader where reader gets really drunk (probably playing drinking game with dwarves) and Legolas has to take care of her since she has no clue what she's doing or saying, and make it fluffy pleaseee 🥺 And thank you!

Word Count: 3,149, oops! I’m sorry its so long!

Pairing: Legolas x Reader

Summary: The Fellowship stops at an inn one night and you get very drunk, leading you to say and do some things you normally wouldn't.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, kissing, alcohol/drunkenness.

****

The Arms of the One You Loved {Legolas x Reader}

"Ok," Gimli whispered. "So Gandalf and Boromir each have ten silver coins on Legolas to confess first, Aragorn has fifteen on Y/N, Merry, Pippin, Frodo, and I have each placed six on Legolas, and Sam has eight on Y/N ." Everyone placed their coins in an empty pouch of Gandalf's, which he cinched tight and put in one of his many pockets. They were all sitting around a table in an inn where you had stopped for the night, in a town a little larger than Bree. It was a respectable inn, built of old wood planks that glowed in the light coming from the fireplace, and was hazy with the smoke of pipes.

You and Legolas were getting food and ale and had absolutely no idea this conversation was even happening. The rest of the Fellowship had noticed the tension and chemistry between the two of you and had been for a while, so they had decided to do something about it. Clearly, they were all rooting for you to get together, but they were going to have very different approaches to getting you to do so.

You returned to the table and set down one of the platters laden with food, Legolas following with the other. He was quickly accosted by all the hobbits except Sam, and Gimli, while you made your way over to sit next to Aragorn and Gandalf. You slid in between them and were confused by the smirks on their faces. You followed their gazes to the end of the table, where Merry, Pippin, and Gimli were chatting with Legolas. You couldn't make out what they were saying, although you thought you saw Merry mouth your name, and there were smirks on the face of all three. You then noticed Boromir and Sam whispering together, and it sounded like an argument where you caught snatches of your name, as well as Legolas'.

Growing increasingly confused, you turned to Aragorn. "Why is everyone talking about me?" "I have no idea, Y/N" he stated, and then changed the subject to one you dreaded. "I've been noticing you and Legolas lately." "What is there to notice?" you replied acidly. "Oh, nothing," Aragorn airily replied. "Just the way the two of you are always together. Walking together, getting the food together... One might think something was going on between the two of you!" You felt the blood rush to your cheeks as you blushed and vehemently denied this. "Nothing is going on between me and Legolas! Besides, even if I did feel something, who's to say he'd feel the same? I mean, look at him. Prince of Mirkwood, elf, everything I am not." Aragorn had a knowing glint in his eye when he countered, "I think you'd be surprised, Y/N. Elves don't always prefer other elves." As he spoke, you saw his hand reach down to rest over the necklace he carried that you knew belonged to his beloved Arwen. Seeing your eyes follow his hand and then wistfully glance back to Legolas, he said, "Just tell him how you feel, Y/N. What harm could it do, to be honest with him?" "He could not love me, Aragorn. That's the harm it could do. I would rather be hopeful and not know than know that my feelings were not returned."

You were drawn out of this conversation by Gimli, who had gathered everyone's attention. "Let's have a drinking contest!" he proclaimed. You brightened, thinking maybe the alcohol would take your mind off of a certain elf. Gandalf proceeded to stand and walk away, as he went declaring "I'm too old for this nonsense! Give me a pipe over ale any day." Frodo rose, and with a quiet "good night" went upstairs as well, followed by Sam. "Anyone else too scared to challenge the champion?" Pippin asked. When you didn't move, Gimli blathered, "Y/N, a drinking contest is no place for a lass. Perhaps you should go rest and leave the drinking to us." You bristled and immediately got up to grab a pint of ale. Returning to the table, you declared "game on, dwarf," chugging the whole mug and slamming it onto the table. The looks of surprise from the males quickly turned to those of determination, and they scrambled to get their own mugs and catch up.

An hour and five pints later, you were all in varying states of drunkenness. Merry had been the first to stop, puking after two. Pippin had fallen asleep after three, and they had been carried upstairs by Boromir, who had bowed out after four pints. Gimli looked like he would tip over at any moment, and Aragorn looked a little sleepy, but Legolas looked serene as ever. Clearly, alcohol didn't affect elves in the same way it did others. You, meanwhile, could barely think straight, let alone see straight. You weren't even sure who was still at the table. You could discern a smaller shape that was either Gimli or Pippin slumped on the table and two larger ones. You sat up a little as a crash rang from the room, signifying Gimli falling from his stool fast asleep. "I'll bring him up." Aragorn rose, a little shakily, and poured water over Gimli's head, causing him to splutter and stagger to his feet. They made their unsteady way up the stairs, supporting each other. As they went, Legolas looked back to your seat and let out a soft curse. You were gone.

While Aragorn and Gimli were leaving, you had appeared on top of a table and had begun singing a drinking song that Merry had taught you while walking one day. "There is an inn, a merry old inn, beneath an old grey hill," you began, and as you sang you started to dance a jig, which involved a lot of flailing. You were quickly cut off by Legolas, who had sprung onto the table next to you. "My deepest apologies that this performance will be unable to continue, but my friend here needs to get some rest," he declared while barely able to keep a straight face. To the boos of the crowd, who probably had not witnessed a woman make such a spectacle of herself in a long time, he picked you up and carried you bridal-style upstairs.

Once upstairs, he plopped you down onto your bed. He turned to grab you a blanket, intending to tuck you in and then leave, but was stopped by you. "Legolas." "Yes, Y/N?" "You look pretty." you slurred, standing up and staggering towards him. "I like your hair, and your face, and your tunic, and..." you trailed off as your eyes met his. "Y/N," he murmured, "you are very drunk and you don't know what you're saying. You should sleep now." "Don't wanna sleep," you mumbled as you began to undo your tunic laces, "not tired." Legolas realized you were beginning to undress, "Whoa! Y/N, keep your shirt on!" "But I need to get ready for bed." you protested as you continued to undress. Finally, you stood with only your underthings on, and an elf who was doing his best to cover his eyes. "Y/N, I'm going to leave now," he stated, and he did. But he had barely made it two steps down the hall outside your door when he heard a crash, followed by muffled yelling and then a soft thump. He opened your door with a loud bang and stopped short at the sight before him.

"What happened?" he spluttered as he saw you, on the ground with your nightclothes tangled around you and all your weapons scattered around the room. "I was tryin' to get my bedclothes on, but I couldn't figure out where my feet or head went, so I just wrapped them around myself to stay warm. Then I was stuck so I tried to reach my daggers to cut myself out, but I just tipped everything over." Chuckling at your stupidity, he picked you up and placed you on the bed, untangling you from the mess you had made. He laid out your clothes on top of you, and with gestures showed you where each body part went. He turned to leave again but was stopped by your voice. "Legolas," you mumbled, "Would you help me put this on?" "Oh, Y/N," he protested, "I don't that's very proper..." but he trailed off as the pleading look on your face became too much for him, and with a sigh, he began to help you get dressed. As he fastened the laces around your chest, you noticed a faint spot of red blooming on his pale cheeks. "Are you blushing?!" you exclaimed drunkenly. "No... no way, why would you think that?" stuttered the elf as he backed away from you. "You're blushing! HA!" And with a smirk, you whispered in his ear, "I want to make you blush like that whenever you see me." You turned, flopped onto the bed, and grabbed Legolas' hand, dragged him next to you. Your mood changed yet again, and you felt slightly remorseful for how crazy you were being and decided to just clear it all up for Legolas. "I guess what I'm trying to tell you is that I love you." He looked extremely startled, and that turned to shock as you pulled his face down to meet yours and kissed him. He pulled back, "Y/N, I don't want to do this now. You're drunk. It wouldn't be right." Disappointed, you rolled over and whispered, "Ok. Just, please stay?" He sighed but laid next to you on the bed. You fell asleep quickly, but he stayed awake, his head spinning.

You awoke the next morning with a splitting headache and no memories of the previous night. You remembered starting a drinking contest, and something to do with Legolas, but other than that your mind was blank. You rose and got dressed, noticing your clothes scattered on the floor of the small room. You gathered your things and went downstairs, where your headache was intensified by the assaulting noise of travelers having breakfast. You clapped your hands over your ears, wincing, and wound your way through the room to the table where your friends were sitting. Gandalf, Frodo, and Sam looked raring to go, as they hadn't partaken in much ale the night before. The rest were all in varying states of disarray, with Merry, Pippin, and Gimli looking the worst, and Boromir and Aragorn looking like they had headaches, but could manage. Legolas, meanwhile, seemed as ethereal as ever, except for the fact that he wouldn't even look at you. What did I do last night? you wondered as you scarfed down breakfast with your cloak wrapped around your head to block out the noise.

Tramping out of the inn after eating, you slung your pack over your shoulders and fell into line behind Aragorn. Even he seemed a little worse for wear after the amount of alcohol he had consumed. "What happened after I left last night?" he queried. "Honestly, I don't even remember you leaving," you answered truthfully. "All I know is that something involved Legolas, I wish I knew what." Aragorn looked rather excited for a second, and then his face changed to one of contemplation. You walked in peaceful silence for a while, and he eventually moved up the line to speak with Legolas, and you worried about what he might be doing. Sam fell back to keep you company. "Hey, Y/N. How are you feeling after last night?" he said with a concerned look on his face. You smiled down at the hobbit, touched by his inquiry, and responded, "I'm okay, thank you, Sam. I have a headache, but that was to be expected. I just wish I could remember what happened! I seem to remember something about Legolas, but that's it." As you spoke, you missed Sam's head perk up to listen more intently once you spoke Legolas' name. "Well, I think you should ask Legolas what happened," he suggested with a bit of a sly look on his face. "And then, maybe, you could tell the rest of us!" You pushed his shoulder playfully, "I don't know Sam. I guess I'll tell you if it's not too embarrassing." With that, you fell back into companionable silence with the hobbit.

Meanwhile, a ways ahead of you Aragorn was talking to Legolas, inquiring about last night's events. "So, what happened after Gimli and I went upstairs last night?" Aragorn was startled to see a small patch of pink appear on Legolas' cheeks after he had spoken. "Something happened! What? Did you tell her?" he kept prodding with an air of such excitement that Legolas finally caved and told him. "Well, she was very intoxicated so I brought her to her room. She insisted on me helping her get her nightclothes on, which was rather embarrassing." "I know more than that happened," observed Aragorn. "I'd like to know, maybe I can give you some advice." With a sigh, Legolas admitted, "Y/N might have kissed me." The "WHAT?!" that came out of Aragorn's mouth was probably heard in Mordor, and it was loud enough to make your headache come back with a vengeance. Legolas continued, "And she also told me she loved me." Aragorn was now beaming wider than Fangorn forest. "Did you say anything? What prompted this?" "I did not say anything, other than to tell her to stop kissing me because she was drunk and I did not want to take advantage." "So you left?!" "No, she asked me to stay, so I left early this morning." "This is wonderful, Legolas!" Aragorn exclaimed. "Now you can be with her," he encouraged. And then the realization hit him. "Oh, no. She doesn't remember anything from last night." "So that means we can just all go back to normal." Legolas wheedled. "No one has to tell her anything. Besides, she was drunk and had no idea what she was saying. She doesn't love me." "She loves you, Legolas. Just as you love her." Aragorn hoped that his friend would recognize the truth so that the two of you finally stopped feeling heartsick over the other.

As the sun was starting to sink behind the mountains behind, washing the sky a glorious combination of pink and orange, Boromir found a spot to camp and everyone shrugged off their packs and began setting up. As usual, you and Legolas were put on firewood duty together, something that usually didn't register in your brain but tonight you looked at Aragorn in suspicion as he waved you into the woods, the elf following.

You gathered logs and picked your way through the forest towards the campsite. As you approached, you heard voices, and you hid behind a tree as you heard Aragorn tell everyone to be quiet. "I have news," he announced in a whisper. "It pertains to a certain bet we all made." At that everyone's head snapped towards him and they listened raptly. Just then, Legolas came up beside you and you yanked him behind the tree next to yours, gesturing at him to stay quiet. His eyes widened as Aragorn's voice drifted over to you. "Legolas told me that last night, Y/N told him she loved him." This was met with groans from everyone who had bet for Legolas. Aragorn continued, saying something about how everyone owed him and Sam, but you missed it. At his first words, your head had jerked over to Legolas'. "Did I really say that?" you stammered. "Yes. And some other things that are best not repeated." You put your face in your hands. "I'm so terribly sorry, Legolas. I never meant to tell you, and I'm sorry for anything else I might have done. We can go back to normal, or I can just never talk to you, anything you want." You broke down in tears as you said this.

"Hey, Y/N." Legolas stepped over to you and took your chin in his hand, brushing the tears off your face with his thumb. "It's okay. Last night was a little crazy, but I've had time to think about it, and I think I know what to do." With that, he brushed your hair behind your ear, leaned in, and softly pressed his lips against yours. He pulled away, looking nervous. "Wait," you muttered, mind whirling over what this meant, "are you messing around?" "No, Y/N. I love you too" At this you reached up and pulled his head down, meeting his lips with yours. You tangled your hands through his hair as his came down from your face to rest on your waist. You backed up, intending to press your back against a tree, but tripped over a root and fell with a crash, Legolas on top of you. Your friends must have heard because they all came rushing around the tree, weapons drawn, to find a blushing elf and human lying on the forest floor in a rather compromising position. Legolas scrambled up, "It's not what it looks like, I promise!" "It's exactly what it looks like," you countered from the ground, laughing. "Now, someone help me up!" The elf bent down and scooped you into his arms, carrying you back to the campsite followed by a smirking Fellowship. "I guess you can't assign them to firewood anymore, eh, lad!" Gimli exclaimed to Aragorn. "Who knows what they might get up to!" Upon hearing this, you threw a well-aimed pinecone at him.

"What I really want to know now was who won the bet you had on us!" You exclaimed. "Wait, they were betting on us?" Legolas looked offended. "Weren't you paying attention," you questioned. "That's what they were talking about when Aragorn mentioned what happened last night!" "I was a little preoccupied with making sure the love of my life knew I loved her," he responded, making you blush. "Aragorn won thirty-five silver coins and I won thirty-two!" Sam announced. "And what did you win that for?" Legolas asked. "We were the only two that bet on Y/N confessing to her feelings first," Aragorn said. "I'm rather offended none of you thought I would have the courage, but it looks like those were some badly placed bets!" you directed these words at everyone who had bet against you. "Technically," Merry exclaimed, "you didn't!" "Yeah," Pippin continued, "it was a drunken confession! You can't control what you say when drunk!" At the accusation they hadn't won fairly, both Aragorn and Sam started arguing back, and the campsite quickly dissolved into chaos. You, pleased to have caused a little bit of trouble in return for all they had caused you, didn't care. You leaned back against Legolas with a sigh as he stroked your head, content to be in the arms of the one you loved.

Everything Tag: @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @entishramblings

#legolas #legolas fanfic #legolas one shot #legolas one shots #legolas x reader #legolas x y/n #legolas x you #lotr fanfic #lotr fanfiction #legolas fic #legolas fanfiction #lord of the rings #legolas imagines #legolas imagine #the hobbit #jrr tolkien

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tallyovie-writes · 4 years ago

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Pictures of Us | f. w. Part 2

part 1

Summary: all the paintings choose a student to patron, the Lady chooses you and watches as you and Fred Weasley grow in the same direction

Warning:none, might contain little angst, nothing serious

2k words

@sirenswhispers @discoverablefeelings @capture-the-moment-on-camera @sophieswizardswheezes

Sixth year, December

The corridors buzzed with excitement. With only less than two weeks to the Yule Ball boys were running around in desperate need of finding partners while girls were frantic about not being asked. Of course the already paired ones watched the madness spread with a smug smile on their lips.

The Paintings also had the time of their lives, the new puppets on their chessboard gave back a little life to their fading colours. Now they could play matchmaker from an even bigger selection.

The Lady wanted to be proud to say she did not take part in such childish acts, but she had a mission with those two before the second task. It's not like she could do much, but occasionally if she heard a french boy talking about inviting her patron to the dance she faked sadness as she gave the poor boy the news that you were indeed taken.

You weren't indeed taken.

Madness has yet to engulf you, but you weren't calm either. Collita was asked by a bulgarian boy, but you had doubts whether there weren't threats made by her that overpowered the poor boy's common sense.

You would have been fine with the two of you going together, but now that she had a partner, you weren't planning on being the third wheel.

You forced these thoughts out of your mind for now. You had more important things going on.

The Lady's corridor was full of students as usual, so you weren't surprised when you entered the DADA classroom someone almost knocked you off your feet.

"Watch where you are goi.....oh..." you started telling off your attacker, but as you looked up Fred Weasley held eye contact.

Ever since that encounter in the potions storage room things have changed. You haven't really met after that, the two of you gave a wide berth to one another. No funny business, no prank. When you did run into each other, a sudden awareness filled your body. He made no snarky comments, his usual sarcasm nowhere to be found. You didn't bring up the secret of the castle, and he didn't bring up the date. Like an unspoken deal has been made without either of your knowledge. It was awkward at best. You didn't think anyone noticed, there was only bad blood between you before.

He didn't reply, he didn't apologize for running you over. He took a long look at your face, lingering on details only he could see. Without his usual grin, he left the scene as fast as he came, robes flying around him.

"What was that? Has something happened between you two?" seems like someone noticed after all.

"Nothing besides me agreeing to a date, him agreeing to let me in on a secret, and our mutual ghosting. How is your french boy by the way?" you feigned innocence.

Collita's jaw hit the floor.

"I'm joking. Don't get your knickers in a twist."

"You know I wouldn't even be surprised. With all the sexual tension you two radiate, I wouldn't put it past you that I could find you in a broom closet with him."

Now it was your turn to let your jaw hit the floor.

"Well then, good to know nothing is going on..."

Boy, if you'd known...

Sixth year, yule ball

It wasn't that bad of an evening. You could say it could have been quite magical. The house elves outdid themselves, even the usual house rivalry crawled back to its gloomy hole.

The icicles lost their naturally given cold arua just like the stone walls' usual grim facade. White dominated, but was quickly swept by the wide range of colourful dress robes, Dumbledore's glittery lilac fabric showing how it's done properly.

It really wasn't your date's fault either that you didn't really enjoy yourself. The poor boy tried everything, but besides polite conversation you weren't capable of anything else.

You were standing alone by the food table, the ravenclaw boy left a while ago to try his luck somewhere else, probably with bigger chances.

You saw Collita bent over from laughter silent tears running down her face, her date was watching her with parted lips in amazement. Eyes big, positive surprise written on his face. Collita did that to people. She was naturally gifted with a charming personality, she drew you in, spoke to you like you were on a pedestal.

She made you feel seen. A secret talent that you were rather jealous of on several occasions.

Suddenly you felt sick of the swirling mesmerized faces, the colours were too vibrant, the music too loud, too many bodies pressed together.

Before the walls started closing around you, you left your previous position and made your way to the exit that led to the gardens. The only sound that was registrateable to your ears were only your own footsteps.

Fresh air cut your rapid breathing shorter. You slowed down, the Great Hall's chokingly sweet smells started to fade away into the night.

"Wouldn't say rushing to the night with only a light silk material covering you was a smart choice, wasn't it? I took you to be a lot smarter than that, love. You're gonna get sick." a soft voice interrupted you.

Fred Weasley stood next to the bushes.

"Well, being sick would mean I wouldn't have to see your ugly face in class, so..." you replied but your voice lacked its usual fierceness. You were too tired.

He chuckled at your reply.

"I don't wanna go back there.." you started in a low voice, barely understandable, but gathered your poise and frowned as you said the last sentence. "They are too happy in there anyway."

"Is that jealousy in your voice?" he found so goodly which strings of you he should pull.

"And what if it is?" you snapped at him.

A ghost of his usual smug grin appeared on his face.

"Get your big nose out of my business by the way!"

"Well love, you know what they say about big nosed guys..." he lazily shrugged, hands in the pockets of his robe.

"Get lost, Weasley, I'm not in the mood today."

Maybe it was the hint of desperation in your voice, or the pathetic look you might have presented, but he stopped picking your brains.

"Come in, Y/S/N, you might even find the bloke of your dreams tonight." Fred tilted his head to the side.

"I'm not interested in 'finding a guy' to be my only goal." you scoffed at his remark.

"Well then, as the only guy you talk to right now, I feel obligated to spare you from the clutches of the cold and sickness, so pretty please get your ass in here."

"I'll stay until I decide it's enough. But thank you for your concern. Bye Fred Weasley, 'find the girl of your dreams' tonight." you rolled your eyes at him.

Little did you know, he already did.

Despite the cold, the Lady felt your frozen heart start melting, even if you haven't realized yet.

Sixth year, few days after the Yule Ball

"I don't understand why you thought it was a good idea to freeze your pretty little ass out there in a low cut silk dress in winter."

You groaned out in frustration.

Collita didn't spare you despite the fact that you were bloody sick, and fuckin hurting everywhere.

"Madam Pomfrey said you won highest fever of the year." she mentioned between stealing a few of your get-well sweets. "At least you finally won something." she winked at you.

"Get out, and let me suffer alone you bimbo!" you hissed at her, but the sharp pains shooting down your neck really destroyed to effect you were trying to achieve.

"Alrighty, my little pathetic friend, I suppose I can leave you to your demise. Be a good and obedient patient." she sent you a kiss and strolled out the Hospital Wing.

In the Hospital Wing, after curfew

After Collita left you to suffer on your own Madam Pomfrey gave you a light sleeping tonic. You welcomed the sweet oblivion in the place of pain.

A light noise disturbed the calming darkness. Opening your eyes was a too heavy task, so you relied on your hearing. A soft fumbling could be heard, but the person near your bed executed the deed quite clumsily as the most colourful swearing left their mouth.

Fighting against the tonic's luring effect, you tried opening your eyes. When you did, you almost jerked back in surprise.

Fred Weasley stood there with an innocent smile on his face, like a child caught in a naughty act, his hands were midair frozen on the spot hovering above your stack of sweets.

"What the fuck are you doing in the middle of the night standing near my bed?" you demanded and pulled your blanket further to your neck. "Are you setting up a prank?"

"Have a little faith in me, Y/N...if it were a prank you would only know it before it happened and that's already too late. Can't a bloke visit his sick classmate? The classmate he warned against the cold?" you scoffed at his pointed stare.

"In the middle of the night?"

He started scratching the back of his neck.

"Good point. A point I should probably elaborate on." he didn't seem like someone who wanted to elaborate.

"Don't let me stop you from doing that..." you rolled your eyes at him.

He seemed a little awkward and you could barely hide your amusement. It is not every day a Weasley gets a little intimidated and loses his usual cockiness.

"You see..." he started but his gaze was still fixated on his hands. "...I felt a tad responsible for you catching a cold.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise.

"If it weren't for me dancing on your nerves in the garden making you irritated enough to stay outside longer than intended, you wouldn't be here right now." he sounded a little guilty and you couldn't help the warmth that started spreading in your stomach.

You started to chuckle.

"Weasley. It's alright." you felt a sudden bravery envelop you as you said the next words nonchalantly. "You owe me another secret and we are even."

You waited for his reaction.

He didn't disappoint. He lifted his head, brown eyes locking into your own. Now you weren't sure if it was a wise idea to make him remember your deal back in the potion storage room.

"And here I thought I could bribe you with chocolate that I nicked from the kitchen...you are not a woman easily pleased." he didn't seem that sad about this fact.

"Where would be the fun in that?"

"Right."

Silence fell upon the two of you. Eyes still interlocked, you weren't sure if minutes or hours passed by. The Hospital Wing's darkness faded, and the freckles splattered across his face became more contrasted than before. He tilted his head to the side, his gaze burned your skin.

Suddenly becoming aware of the weirdness of the situation you cleared your throat and looked away.

"Since the tonic made me hungry like a wolf, I'll accept that nicked chocolate." you said, trying to break the silence.

Fred smiled and threw you the bar he fumbled around with before. Your catch was nothing sort of graceful and you felt embarrassment tint your cheeks.

Looking down at the bar in your hand you felt your eyes grow big.

"How did you know this is my favourite?" you asked astonishment, creeping into your voice.

"Lucky guess." he shrugged. You didn't need to know that every time the Grand Hall's tables were filled with this, he couldn't look away from the joy radiating on your face. Just like now.

"Your taste is impeccable, I gotta say."

Oh yes, his taste was indeed impeccable, but not just in chocolate.

#harry potter #angst #enemies to friends to lovers #enemies to lovers #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #george weasley #slytherin #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x y/n

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smaidjor · 3 years ago

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and i pay for my place by the ring (Chapter 1)

Hey guys! Welcome to another angsty fic by yours truly, provider of flower husbands pain.

Some things you should know before you jump into this:

1. This is a companion fic to my fic "i know they're losing". You can understand it without having read the other one, since it's the same story from two different POVs but I think the overall experience is better with both!

2. The overall title of each fic is from the mitski song I bet on losing dogs. Chapter titles are from the Last Goodbye from the Hobbit films.

3. There is a lot of lord of the rings lore in both fics, and I mean a lot. You may be kinda confused if you've never read tolkien's works. It will all be explained eventually, though!

4. With the fact that it's a companion fic and a lot of people came here from Jimmy's POV in mind- this is a lot heavier of a fic. The content warnings are heavier and the angst is more intense. You have been warned.

(Obligatory disclaimer that this is about characters, not ccs, and do not ship real people, as always!)

Chapter Title: to these memories i will hold

Chapter Wordcount: 4000

Content warnings: suicidal thoughts, self-esteem issues, panic attacks, past death, very frank discussion of death. (In general, if suicide or death are triggering topics for you, this is probably not the fic for you. Stay safe and take care of yourself!)

AO3

Actual fic under the cut:

Scott didn’t expect to survive 3rd life. No one did, he thinks, but especially not him. Clever, clever Scott, who knew his fate too well for his own good. He could have chosen his allies carefully, he knows, could have played on their emotions to make them think he was loyal until the moment he turned on them to win. He knew who the strongest factions and warriors were, the most cunning and intelligent participants in this death game they were forced into. Instead, he chose Jimmy. Sweet, dopey Jimmy, who had the personality of a golden retriever and only a handful of braincells at any given time. Jimmy, who was worth more than all the stars in the sky to him. Who made him feel alive . No, Scott didn’t expect to win. Not when it was Jimmy by his side- when it was Jimmy by his side, winning didn’t matter. All that mattered was Jimmy’s blush when Scott pressed a kiss to his cheek, the way his hair looked like gold in the sunlight and his smile lit up Scott’s whole world.

After Jimmy died, Scott stopped wanting to survive 3rd life. What was the point? The stars can shine on without the sun, but all life on Earth would wither and die. The same happened to Scott’s broken, bitter heart, he found. Jimmy was the first person in years to love him truly, wholly, with no strings attached; it was terrifying how quickly Scott fell for the first person to look at him and not expect him to be anything but what he was. Scott’s world, which used to be mountain peaks and endless blue sky, narrowed to warm brown eyes and a grin like sunshine quicker than he could comprehend. Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy, it all came back to him. What was Scott without Jimmy? The unwanted twin, the unloved child, the un-elven elf. Because who cared if he was a good shot with a bow or good at organizing teams or building pretty little houses? He would always be second-born, second-best.

It was fitting, really, that when Scott died, he died alone. Some might find it ironic that the man who knew enough people to fill the roster of a championship held by a god every month died without a single person to witness it save his enemies, but in the end, it was always going to be like this, Scott knew. He hadn’t been there to see Jimmy die, he hadn’t been able to hold him in his final moments and soothe the agony of death. Maybe this was his punishment. He wouldn’t be surprised; the gods of this world did not smile on him and never would. Why should they, when he had failed the only person who had ever found him good enough?

When he woke up in Rivendell, he was almost disappointed. Almost. He considered ditching the rest of the elves, up and leaving to somewhere that didn’t make it feel like the noose of immortality was slowly tightening around his neck. If nothing else, Noxite would let him crash at the MCC server for a bit until he found somewhere to go. And yet, in the end, Scott’s stubborn sense of duty won out. The elves needed a ruler. Xornoth had disappeared to god knows where, and though they had been braver, wiser, better in every way, Scott was the one who had stayed. Who was willing to take up the crown that weighed so heavily on its bearers. So Scott, who no one ever expected to rule, took up the burden of leadership.

Now, he tries and fails to get out of bed and wonders what the point of that even was. He’s fading, and worse than that, he’s fading over a human. His ancestors are probably rolling in their graves. Rivendell will be leaderless within a decade, and this time there are no heirs to take control. Not even a ‘spare’ like Scott used to be. What a mess.

There are footsteps on the stairs. They’re unfamiliar, meaning they could be a threat, but he’s too tired to bother sitting up. If he dies, well- it’s inevitable, really, in the same way watching the mortals he loves dies is.

The person comes around the corner, and Scott realizes with no joy that he won’t be dying today after all. Katherine looks both curious and concerned, but her voice tilts towards the latter when she asks “Scott?” and then, more hesitantly “Lord Smajor?”

He blinks at her, exhausted. “Hi, Katherine.”

“I came to talk to you about some empires stuff, but, I mean, if this is a bad time, I can come back later…?” She sounds so thrown off by his state that Scott almost feels bad.

Whatever it is, it must be important if she’s come all the way here, though, so he gestures her to a chair. “No, no, stay. I can muster the energy for a meeting, just don’t ask me to get up.”

Katherine takes the seat. “I came to talk about the corruption on the server, but- are you okay? Are you sick?”

Nothing about the question is funny in any way, but Scott laughs regardless. “In a way, yes.”

“What do you mean?”

“Take my hand.” He offers it out, knowing the unnatural cold is unsettling no matter if you’re elven or not. Katherine does as he asks, the concern on her face only growing as she grips his icy hand.

“Elves don’t get sick like mortals do,” Scott explains. “Nor do we die of old age. But we get...heartsickness, you might call it. We call it fading in our tongue- the cold hands are a symptom of that. Our souls are fragile, and the grief of the mortal plane can be overwhelming. If an elf is too struck by it, they fade away and die.” The words taste bitter on his tongue, a frank reminder of the slow and painful death that awaits him.

Katherine gasps, and Scott knows he’s alarmed her.

He goes on, though. “It usually happens to old elves, world-weary.” Ironic, it’s ironic that he’s saying that as a young elf explaining his own death. “Those who are tired of existence. But any elf who has experienced enough grief is at risk.”

Her face is nothing short of horrified. “You’re- fading? But doesn’t it usually happen to old elves? Wait, are you old?”

“I’m fifty-five.”

“Is that old?”

He has to laugh. “Fifty is the elven equivalent of eighteen for humans, the age of maturity.” Though he feels so much older than that, both in elven terms and in human.

“Oh.”

There’s a moment of silence, then, “How can you be so calm if you’re dying?”

“I’m tired, Katherine. The world tore me away from the people I loved, and..I’m tired of fighting it.” He’s so, so exhausted. So sick of having to claw and scrape and struggle for the barest scraps of happiness.

“Is there a way to reverse fading- to fix it?” Katherine sounds so hopeful that the question seems almost naive even though she’s far more capable of a ruler than he is. Naive in the affairs of elves, maybe, much as she’s intelligent in so many other ways.

Scott tries not to flinch at the innocent inquiry, thinking about the deaths from fading that he’s watched. “Technically, yes. If an elf recovers enough emotionally, it’s reversible. But whatever caused them to fade the first time can- and often does- cause it again.” And again, and again, until there’s nothing to be done but let them die , he finishes in his head.

Katherine nods, a look of determination overtaking the hope. “We’ll just have to reverse it, then.”

“That’s sweet, Katherine, but I’m dying.”

“No. You’re not going to die. Now come on, you can show me your empire while I fill you in on what’s happening on the rest of the continent.” She sounds so firm that he doesn’t dare disobey, though his exhaustion makes a fair effort at convincing him to. Will this really fix anything? Unlikely. But it’s worth it to try, if only to humor Katherine. At least this way she’ll have the comfort of having tried to save him when he inevitably fades away into nothing

Scott takes her hand, though it brings him little warmth, cold from her trek here. “Alright.” He swallows the bitter grief in his throat before it can seep into his words. “We can try.”

He leads Katherine around Rivendell, taking some pride in the way she oohs over the decor. If there’s one thing he can do right, it’s building. While some elven rulers might see it as below themselves to help build houses for their citizens, Scott finds building soothing. It’s one of the few skills he picked up during his time away that people really appreciate; no one wants to live in a shitty house.

As they walk, she also tells Scott about the demon, Xornoth. “The demon’s already visited a lot of people, I think. Gem and Shubble for sure, and Fwhip and Sausage. That’s not even mentioning the corruption that’s been spreading.”

If Scott said that the name Xornoth didn’t make him flinch, he would be lying to himself. It’s not your sibling , he tells himself. It’s just a coincidence .

It’s through the virtue of years of lying that his voice comes out steady. “There’s corruption in Rivendell too. Likely Xornoth’s work. And given that Jimmy still has Vilya-” his heart doesn’t ache when he says Jimmy’s name, it doesn’t- “well, I haven’t been able to do much.”

“Vilya?” Katherine asks.

“A ring of power. My inheritance from the Noldor.”

“Why does Jimmy have it?”

He doesn’t answer. He won’t- can’t talk about Jimmy, not without remembering how he looked with an arrow through his throat, bright smile gone and face frozen in fear. How does he explain how much Jimmy meant to him? How much he’s now giving up, knowing he’ll have to lose it one way or another?

Katherine drops the topic, seemingly sensing that she’s stumbled on something sensitive. When she has to go home, she leaves with a friendly goodbye and a promise to visit, and Scott believes neither. Who would put the effort into visiting him? He’s not a good friend, he’s not a good king, and god knows he’s not a good husband. In fact, he’s actively avoiding his husband. He may have kept the pufferfish Jimmy gave him, but that doesn’t mean anything. He can’t fall in love with Jimmy again. Loving Jimmy will kill him. (Scott ignores the small voice at the back of his head that whispers that he’s still in love with Jimmy and it’s already killing him just as he always knew it would.)

To his surprise, Katherine does come back next week, and the week after that. He’s ashamed to admit it, but there’s some part of him that’s pathetically grateful when she shows up at his doorstep. It’s a chance to not be alone . Much as he dreads the day when she finally gives up on him, it’s nice that someone cares enough to try and save him from himself.

The third week, Katherine doesn’t show up. Instead, the footsteps on the stairs are familiar in a way that makes Scott’s heart twist painfully.

He takes a deep breath. “Hello, Jimmy.”

“How’d you know it was me?” Jimmy asks. Scott can tell he’s startled by the way his voice goes up, almost frightened.

Scott steels himself, taking a deep breath before rolling over to face his ex-husband. “Do you think I could ever forget the sound of your footsteps?” He forces himself to not get distracted staring at Jimmy, instead going on before Jimmy can open his mouth. “What are you doing here?”

“Katherine asked me to visit, I’m not sure why, but...here I am. Say, why is she visiting every week?” Jimmy’s so curious. So naive, as always.

Scott laughs, bitter. “Katherine thinks she can save me.”

“Save you from what?”

Scott hears the concern in Jimmy’s words, and he can’t bring himself to break the news. It’s not as if it matters. It’s not as if Jimmy would care; he came here because of Katherine. Maybe he cared at the start of Empires, but Scott’s been nothing but rude to him since. There’s no reason for him to care. (He cares. Scott’s lying, like always. Jimmy cares and Scott knows it.)

“Save you from what?” Jimmy asks again, more insistently.

He refuses to say it. He needs Jimmy out, out of his room and out of his life before he does something he’ll regret. “You should go.” To prove his point, he tries to stand, finding himself too dizzy to quite pull it off. Jimmy rushes to catch him, and Scott hates himself just a little for how that still gives him a warm feeling.

“Scott, what is going on?”

He brushes Jimmy off, letting go of his arm and hurrying for the stairs. He can’t let Jimmy work his way into his heart again; Scott won’t be strong enough to let him go this time.

“Scott, seriously! Answer me, are you okay? What’s happening?” Jimmy sounds almost angry, but Scott can hear the distress under it and that’s what breaks him.

“I’m fading, alright?” His voice nearly breaks at the concern on Jimmy’s face when he whirls to face him. “I’m dying, now leave me alone!”

Jimmy sputters, seemingly caught off guard. “You- what- but elves don’t die, right?”

“We do. From poison, from swords-” Scott thinks back to third life- “from arrows through the throat, from grief.” The words come out more raw than he intends, leaving him scrambling to recover his composure. He takes a deep breath in and out, forcing his voice to steady again. “Come on. If you’re not going to leave, I might as well show you around.”

“You can’t just drop something like that on a man, you know!” Jimmy calls after him, although Scott can hear his footsteps following as well.

“You did ask, to be fair.” Scott replies. His voice is calm. He’s fine.

“I guess so, but- but still, dude.”

Scott pushes open the side door, holding it for Jimmy. “Here.”

Jimmy nods and slips through the door. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Scott starts towards the bridges, intending to show Jimmy the enchanting tower and then the door. He doesn’t care about how fast he’s walking, Jimmy can keep up. He’s taller than Scott and probably has better balance at the moment too. Scott’s struggling not to fall, honestly, but his pride won’t let him go slower.

Jimmy breaks the awkward silence with the question Scott least wants to hear. “So, uh..are we going to talk about 3rd life?”

“No,” Scott says firmly.

“Why not? We need to talk about it some time-”

“I said no .” He can’t talk about it.

“It’s literally killing you to not talk about it!”

The words strike right at the raw wound of Jimmy’s death, and Scott freezes. Inhales. Exhales. Tries to keep calm.

“Tell me I’m wrong, Scott!” Jimmy cries. He sounds so upset, Scott’s heart aches. “I dare you, tell me I’m wrong! Tell me you never cared about me, tell me you didn’t bother to bury me, tell me it didn’t hurt even a little when I died! Tell me I was just stupid little Jimmy, a toy for an elf who’d live far beyond my lifespan! Tell me whatever, just tell me the truth! ”

Scott takes a deep breath. “Fine. You want to know what happened after you died?” He can’t think straight through the rage clouding his head, the desperate need to prove that Jimmy’s wrong , that Scott loved him so much it’s killing him. “You want to hear about me screaming until my throat went raw? You want to know that I kissed your face and sobbed and begged you to wake up, over and over until I couldn’t speak at all? You want to live with the knowledge that Grian had to physically pull me away from your body? Is that what you want to hear, Jimmy? ” His voice damn near breaks on his husband’s name, and Scott thanks the gods he stopped believing in a long time ago that it doesn’t.

“No,” Jimmy says. His voice is soft, gentle, almost as if Scott is a wounded animal that needs a delicate touch. “That’s not what I want to hear, not at all. I’d rather you be happy than love me.”

The words punch the air from Scott’s lungs, raw and soft and real. Scott is an excellent liar. Jimmy isn’t. Scott knows that Jimmy is telling the truth. What he doesn’t know is how to handle that level of devotion. He wonders again how Jimmy- sweet, genuine Jimmy who wears his heart on his sleeve and is hopelessly devoted to an elf who can’t be fully his- chose Scott of all people. Scott, who’s as bitter as Jimmy is sweet, who’s sarcastic and snarky and hasn’t been good enough for just about anything in his life. He certainly wasn’t good enough to save Jimmy, Scott thinks bitterly.

He shakes off the thought. “I buried you on the hill above our houses. I planted a poppy over your grave.”

“Oh.”

“Grian came over the next day. I didn’t want to see anyone who wasn’t you, but I let him in because I had to. He helped me do the straps on my armor and asked me if he could do anything else to make things easier. I told him to bury me next to you.”

“Did he?”

Scott almost laughs at the innocent question. “How would I know? Grian was honorable enough, though, loyal to his allies. I like to think he did.”

“He was a good guy,” Jimmy agrees. “A little bit bloodthirsty, I guess, but good. I don’t suppose he survived any better than the rest of us, though maybe being bloodthirsty helped.”

“Maybe.”

“Can I- can I ask you why you hate me so much now?” Jimmy’s tone is uncertain, hesitant and it hurts . “I mean, if you mourned me in third life and all.”

Scott looks away from his earnest gaze, but he can’t stop the truth slipping out. “I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t?” Jimmy asks, seemingly bewildered. “But you burned the pufferfish-”

“I didn’t. I kept it.” Scott doesn’t want to think about this, wants to say it even less. “I never hated you. I don’t think I’m capable of it.”

“Then why do you keep avoiding me?”

“I’ve been kind of busy dying,” Scott says wryly, unable to resist a bit of morbid humor at his own expense.

“Scott! That’s not funny!”

“It was a little funny.”

“No!”

Jimmy sounds genuinely distressed, and Scott drops the wry smile. “Jimmy, I’m an elf. I won’t live far beyond you, but only because I’ll fade without you.” It’s a simple statement. The truth, as much as he can give.

“So your solution is to isolate yourself and fade now?” Jimmy’s outrage is justifiable, but Scott just shrugs.

“It does sound stupid when you put it like that, doesn’t it?” It really does. “But I lost you once, and I don’t think I could bear it again.”

A hand lands on Scott’s arm, and he turns, startled. Jimmy doesn’t give him time to react, throwing his arms around Scott and pulling him close. Scott almost lets out a very undignified squeak at the sudden contact, though he slowly relaxes into Jimmy’s hold.

He should pull away. He shouldn’t give Jimmy false hope like this. But Jimmy is so warm , and Scott is so unbearably cold. Every fiber of his being is screaming that this is what’s right; screw Rivendell and obligations and too-heavy crowns, Jimmy is home to him. He’s warm for the first time in months, and the most heartbreaking part is that it can’t last. He can’t do this again.

He pulls away, ignoring the painful hope on Jimmy’s face. “I’m sorry, Jimmy.” For the first time all conversation, his voice well and truly wobbles. “I can’t. Not again.”

“But-”

Scott shakes his head. “Losing you will destroy me. We dared to love, and now all we can do now is lessen the pain when it all comes crashing down.” The words are like glass in his throat, but he forces them out anyways. They have to be said.

Jimmy’s silent, and it hurts more than if Jimmy had yelled at him.

“Goodbye, Jimmy,” Scott manages, turning away before Jimmy can see the way his face twists in pain. He makes his retreat as quickly as possible, stumbling and nearly taking a tumble just before he reaches the door. Unlike before, there’s no helpful ex-husband there to catch him, to make sure he’s alright and ask a million questions until Scott’s forced to admit that he’s not okay and hasn’t been in a long time.

He fumbles with the latch, hands shaking and vision blurring. Finally, it clicks, and Scott stumbles inside and slams the door shut before sliding to the ground. He won’t cry. He won’t . He doesn’t love Jimmy, he can’t love Jimmy anymore. Jimmy was never meant to be his. They might have carved out a few precious moments, stolen them from the universe and giggled like kids with their hands in the cookie jar as they kissed amongst the flowers, but those brief moments were all they were ever going to be allowed. It was always going to end this way, Scott tells himself. There’s no use crying over a mortal who will be dead in the blink of an eye to an elf. What would his parents say? That this was typical of him, probably. Typical Scott, always wanting what he would never be able to have. Typical, predictable Scott, loving a mortal who shouldn’t be worth anything to him.

He’s crying. There are tears spotting his cyan robes, splashing onto the wood floors he worked so hard on. Scott rubs at his eyes furiously, but that only makes it worse, sobs shuddering through him and leaving him hollow and aching. He’s so cold . The ache in his chest has returned tenfold, stealing away his breath, and he curls further into himself, struggling for air.

He’s going to die. He is going to die , alone on the floor of his house because he fell for someone he couldn’t have. For all that he’s spent every minute since Jimmy’s death in 3rd life wishing for some way out of this cruel world, he’s terrified now that it seems inevitable. He’s scared in a way he hasn’t been in forever, breath coming quick and shallow. He's scared, and he is so, so tired of this ache that haunts him, the chill that he can never get rid of.

“Jimmy,” Scott whispers. There’s no way for the human to hear him, but the name brings him some comfort. “ Jimmy .” He wants his husband. He wants someone to hug him. He doesn’t want to fade away freezing and alone, no one there to hold his hand or reassure him that the pain will be over soon. Internally, he begs for someone, anyone who cares to come looking. To find him, even if they’re too late to save him. Someone. Anyone. Please.

No one comes, and Scott lays on his floor until his breathing steadies out again. His head spins when he forces himself to his feet, and he has to lean against the wall for a few moments. There’s no time for dramatics, he tells himself sternly. He has a kingdom to rule. He cannot afford to break over a mortal he never should have fallen for in the first place. He doesn’t love Jimmy anymore, he can’t .

(He’s lying. But Scott has always been an excellent liar, even when it’s to himself.)

#scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #empires smp #i maintag my fic because i dont fear god or scott smajor #my writing

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ladylouoflothlorien · 4 years ago

Note

Hey, love all your fics! They are so awesome! Could I request a Gimli/reader fic? Where the reader is also part of the fellowship and is a good friend of Aragons. Gimli likes her but thinks her and aragon is a thing but eventually finds out they aren't and that she likes him back?

Here it is anon! I hope you like it.

For whom does thy heart beat?

Pairing: Gimli x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2623

Warnings: None

“Aragorn, hand over the flint.”

He was crouched beside a slightly damp pile of sticks, trying and failing to get it to light. Aragorn turned his head to the side, watching as you settled beside him with your hand held out, palm up. He exhaled through his nose, and though he tried to make it sound exasperated it merely sounded fond.

You smiled as he placed the flint in your hand, the steel following moments later.

“You might be older than me, but you never quite mastered fire the way I did.”

As you spoke your tone was smug, teasing. It was an old argument, if it could even be called that. Aragorn didn’t reply, pretending to be above such conversation, but you didn’t need to look at him to know he’d be rolling his eyes.

You didn’t look at him, however, focusing instead on creating sparks, and soon enough you’d gotten a small fire going. The orange flames leapt upwards, eating away at some of the inky blackness inside the cave the fellowship had found to shelter in for the night.

“You see Aragorn, it’s hardly difficult.”

At last you turned your head to look up at him, a very self-satisfied smile on your lips, until Aragorn brought his hand down on the top of your head suddenly, fingers messing up the strands of your hair. You let out an indignant squawk, and set about fixing your hair immediately, not once noticing the pair of Dwarven eyes intently watching the entire interaction.

~ Gimli glanced up at you briefly when the dying orc claimed that Aragorn was dead, and what he saw in your eyes made his stomach clench uncomfortably. Your face, which was normally so expressive, was completely blank, and your eyes – which were secretly Gimli’s favourite feature of your face – were glazed over, unseeing. It appeared to him that the life had completely disappeared from you. Even so, he did not once see you shed a tear… or at least, he did not see you do so until Aragorn had made his way back – alive, somehow – to Helm’s Deep. He watched as you walked towards Aragorn, and it was clear you didn’t fully believe what you were seeing until you were close enough to dig your fingers into his tunic. You’d cried then, all the tears that had built up since hearing him pronounced dead all pouring out at once.

The dwarf had seen the look on Eowyn’s face as you’d clung to Aragorn’s chest, and as Aragorn held you close in return. He fully understood how she felt, he only hoped his feelings weren’t so plainly written on his face. Later, when he noticed Legolas return the necklace to Aragorn, Gimli had felt a brief moment of confusion. Why hadn’t the Elf given it back to you after Aragorn fell? It was obviously a token of affection that you’d once given him. He came eventually to what he considered the most logical conclusion – that Legolas had kept hold of it for safekeeping until he felt you were emotionally ready to have it back.

He’d never known emotions to be so complicated. Of course, he was relieve to have his friend delivered back to them from beyond the grave – or at least, it felt that way – in fact he was more than just relieved, he was really very happy. He was, however, almost uncontrollably jealous when he had to watch Aragorn hold you close as you cried. More than that, he was disgusted with himself for being anything other than completely ecstatic upon Aragorn’s return, because he knew himself far too well to deny that there had been just a tiny part of him that was disappointed. If Aragorn was truly gone, he might eventually have gotten the chance to woo you. After all, he’d heard that humans were – unlike Elves and Dwarves – capable of loving more than once in their lifetimes. ~

You were sitting alone beside a small fire outside your tent when Gimli came to sit beside you. Gondor had called for aid, and Rohan had – thankfully – decided to answer that call. There was still much that needed to be done, however, and after all the riding you’d been doing, you had to admit that you were quite exhausted. You were, despite your exhaustion, more than glad of Gimli’s company, as you’d developed quite a considerable fondness for the Dwarf. Aragorn had oft teased you of late that it was more than a mere fondness.

He nodded at you in greeting as he settled down, hands outstretched towards the fire. He looked just about as tired as you felt.

“What are you thinking of lassie?”

You gave him a look. He’d insisted on calling you that despite your own insistence that you were hardly young enough to warrant the term. Still, after you’d caught him calling Aragorn ‘laddie’ several times you’d warmed to the nickname considerably. You’d even overheard him call Legolas ‘lad’ once, and wasn’t that a laugh. Legolas was probably older than the rest of the fellowship combined, bar Gandalf, of course. You never had been entirely sure of the age of the sneaky old wizard.

“Nothing much really. I’m too tired to think of anything very interesting.”

He gave another nod and a slight grunt in response and you smiled. It would seem he was of the same mind. You watched as he rubbed his palms together for a moment before extending them back towards the campfire, and you found your ryes drawn to the heavy, rune-covered rings that made their homes on several of his fingers. A thought occurred to you suddenly.

“Are you married, master dwarf?”

Your question appeared to surprise him so much that he almost fell flat on his back, then, red-faced and spluttering, he managed to reply.

“No, no I’m not married. What made you ask that?”

It was your turn to blush. You could feel the heat in your cheeks, and you could only hope it was too dark for him to notice it. In an attempt to appear nonchalant, you took a deep but silent breath before replying yourself.

“Oh, no real reason… I just- your rings.”

You gestured somewhat helplessly in the vague direction of his hands.

“I have little knowledge of dwarven tradition, but humans typically wear rings to indicate their marriage status.”

You didn’t miss the way his gaze fell instantly to your hands, and you had to take another deep breath and remind yourself that it was likely because of his curiosity, nothing more.

“Your fingers are bare?”

He sounded confused, you thought. Perhaps it was just your imagination… had he believed you married? Ignoring the thought, you smiled sweetly and raised your hands, wiggling your fingers slightly.

“That would be because I’m not married, Gimli.”

His eyes widened slightly for a moment before he seemed to get his expression back under control. Maybe he really had thought you were married, though for the life of you, you couldn’t fathom why. Not wanting the silence to stretch on too long, you spoke again.

“How do dwarves show that they’re married?”

When he remained silent, you grew concerned. He appeared to be very far away in his thoughts. To regain his attention, you reached over and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Gimli?”

He seemed to shake himself and snap out of whatever funk he’d fallen into, and you breathed out a silent sigh of relief. Getting too lost in your thoughts when you’d been surrounded by so much death and destruction could hardly be healthy, at least you didn’t think so. Little did you realize, he had in fact been lost in thought, but he hadn’t been thinking about death and destruction at all.

“Forgive me lassie, did you ask me a question?”

You nodded, and then repeated the question. You were rewarded for your efforts with a long and extremely interesting explanation of dwarven courting customs, and of the importance of hair and braids and beads. You’d listened intently to the whole thing, never once suspecting that the entire time he spoke, Gimli had been imagining putting a bead in your hair.

The war was won, Sauron was defeated, and Aragorn was preparing for his coronation later in the day. Despite all this good news, Gimli found that he was not entirely satisfied. He could find no evidence that you were going to be included in the coronation. In fact, any evidence he had found on the subject seemed to suggest the exact opposite. When he’d first discovered that you and Aragorn were not, in fact, married, Gimli had felt practically overwhelmed with hope, but it hadn’t taken long for him to berate himself. The fact that the two of you weren’t yet married didn’t necessarily indicate a lack of commitment. After some thought, Gimli had realised that you were probably waiting for some stability, and he’d decided that it wasn’t his place to judge either of his good friends for making such a decision.

Now, however, he could conceive of no valid reason as to why Aragorn should not end your waiting and as you to marry him, and then furthermore to include you in the coronation ceremony. Gimli did not see the point of Aragorn being coronated alone, when no doubt all that would lead to would be a whole other ceremony when you inevitably would need to be crowned Queen. Gimli’s annoyance and concern abated somewhat when he noticed that you appeared perfectly happy as you rushed about helping Aragorn to prepare. Perhaps, he mused, the two of you did have some other reason for this course of action. Perhaps you had already discussed the matter at length behind closed doors. Perhaps even this whole thing was your idea, and you wouldn’t take kindly to his concerned which, he realised, could be unfairly removing your agency in the situation and your ability to decide for yourself what you wanted. He chastised himself, and resolved to try and think no more about it.

The time of the coronation arrive, and it truly was a beautiful affair. Gimli wasn’t too proud to admit it brought a tear to his eye more than once.

The ceremony was not, however, beautiful enough that it could prevent the small stab of annoyance when those blasted Elves showed up and seemed to make the whole thing about them. This was Aragorn’s special day, and if anyone else was going to make it about them, then that person should surely be you. But wait! What on Middle Earth? Aragorn was… kissing that Elf? Gimli looked to you immediately, horrified, but you merely seemed… happy for him?

The dwarf suddenly realised that almost everything he knew and believed as to the nature of the relationship between you and Aragorn was based on assumptions, and as it appeared to turn out, incorrect assumptions at that.

The rest of the ceremony passed by him in something of a blur. He barely noticed when everyone bowed down, his body moving automatically to follow the movements of everyone around him. Later, when he’d finally pulled himself together, he realised that he needed to talk to you as soon as possible. He’d made his peace with loving you silently from the side-lines when he believed that you and Aragorn were in a committed relationship, but now he knew that wasn’t the case, he had to speak. He knew if he didn’t speak soon, he’d soon feel as though his emotions were overwhelming him once again.

It was dusk, and you were leaning over a pale stone wall watching the daylight slowly fade out of the city below and around you. You didn’t even notice the dwarf walking over to you until he cleared his throat. When you looked at him, he seemed nervous, and that wasn’t a look you’d seen on him very often.

“Is there something I can do for you, master dwarf?”

You asked, trying to sound light-hearted in a way that might prevent the genuine concern you felt from sneaking into your voice. Gimli smiled at you, but the expression seemed a little too forced. He muttered something under his breath, but didn’t attempt to say anything at a volume you’d actually be able to hear.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”

He muttered something again, shuffled where he stood, and finally held out his hand to you. There was something resting in the centre of his palm.

“For you, if you’ll take it.”

You looked closer at what was resting in his palm, and when you realised it was a bead, your mind instantly went back to the conversation you’d had with him about dwarven courting customs and your face went bright red. Still, you weren’t going to let any shyness get in the way of what you wanted. Without wasting time, you reached out and picked up the bead. Before your eyes, you saw the tension practically bleed out of him. Gimli let out a somewhat shaky breath and then you watched as an almost blinding smile took over his entire face.

“Don’t you need to braid this into my hair?”

The two of you made your way over to a bench where you could rest whilst Gimli took care of the braiding. You knew exactly what this gesture meant, and whilst it was a little sudden and unexpected, you couldn’t deny that you’d wanted it for a while, and if you felt his hands tremble slightly as he ran his fingers through your hair… well, you certainly weren’t going to mention it. Still, you felt as though the silence had dragged on long enough.

“Have you liked me for very long, master dwarf?”

More muttering, and then you heard him clear his throat.

“Aye lass, I have.”

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips, and yet you were also a little confused.

“Why did you wait this long to tell me? Were you waiting until Sauron was defeated?”

You snuck a glance at him, and were delighted to find that his cheeks were almost as red as his hair. After a brief pause, he replied quietly.

“I thought…” He paused again, and you could tell he was deeply embarrassed by what he was trying to say.

“I thought you and Aragorn were…”

He didn’t finish his sentence, but he didn’t have to, you could tell what he meant. Despite yourself, you burst out laughing. Gimli frowned, his eyebrows furrowing together in a mock display of annoyance, but to you the expression looked far to suspiciously like a pout.

“Oh sweet Eru, me and Aragorn? He practically helped raise me.”

Gimli’s eyebrows lifted suddenly. That certainly brought new context to your interactions with the now-crowned King of Gondor.

“You know, I think he might actually have been in the room when I was born. We’ve become more like friends since I’ve been of age, but some part of me will always see him as my uncle Aragorn. That’s what I used to call him, even though he’s not really my family.”

Beside you, you finally heard Gimli’s deep chuckle as he too began to see the humour in the situation. His fingers left your hair then, and you reached up to gently run your own over the braid and the bead sitting safely at the end of it. It was the start of something serious with the dwarf you’d grown to love over the past year, and you could hardly wait.

Later, when the two of you found yourselves in the company of other people once again, Aragorn was the very first person to wish you both well.

The End. Permanent Tags: @sweeticedtea @cd1242 @strongandfreedc @pixierox101 @jotink78 @luna-xial @underthemoon-n @anangelwhodidntfall @marvelschriss

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whimperwoods · 4 years ago

Text

Part 8 of Gozukk and Anna.

In this installment, many names? Family lore abounds. Anna is only mostly the center of attention, which is probably for the best. I am honestly only partially sure this chapter even counts as whump, but I just needed a nice breakfast and some nice new friends and for Anna to get some new Gozukk context before she has to do more scary things like go talk to a doctor.

The masterpost is here and includes a cheat sheet with all the new names/characters.

tw: slavery (past), tw: past rape/noncon (barely referenced), tw: past abuse,

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Tag list: @redwingedwhump, @nine-tailed-whump, @thehurtsandthecomfurts @kixngiggles, @bluebadgerwhump, @dragonheart905, @carolinethedragon, @whumpzone, @newbornwhumperfly, @cupcakes-and-pain, @much-ado-about-whumping

****

Gozukk left a note for the half-elf, pinned to the inside of the tent flap, and let her sleep. He hoped she would wake for breakfast while others were still there for her to meet, but he also knew enough about her wounds, inside and out, to know she needed the sleep if she could get it.

He was talking to Azzor when her head poked tentatively out of the tent flap, glanced uneasily toward him and the others and the fire, and vanished back inside. His heart fell a little, though he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t expected the fear.

Azzor had noticed him watching something, and probably his face falling while he wasn’t thinking about keeping a front up. When he turned his gaze back to his best friend’s face, the general was already rolling his eyes. “Go on, it’s fine. You’ve gotten the key things from my report. I assume you’re staying around camp today?”

Gozukk nodded, looking back over at the tent, and trying to decide how offended he should be that Azzor wasn’t bothering to pretend he couldn’t read him like a book..

“This is that baby hawk all over again,” Azzor said, “Don’t be surprised when you find yourself bleeding even though you’re stronger than her.”

Gozukk’s face slid into a sideways grin. “Which baby hawk?”

“Exactly. It was like you liked having beak-sized gashes all up your arms.”

Something in Azzor’s eyes said he wasn’t upset, just wary, and Goz could live with that. “Anyway,” he answered, “This time, her wings are clipped. You have to acknowledge that’s different.”

“Fear is fear. You can’t expect something that scared and with that many reasons not to trust anther creature to decide you’re the safe thing.”

Gozukk scowled. “She’s not a something. She’s a someone.”

Az sighed. “I know, Gozukk. But elves can be dangerous, too. You know that.”

He did. He did. His face warmed over his cheekbones, and he found he couldn’t meet his best friend’s eyes. “I know, Az. It’s just -”

“You’ve never seen a broken wing you didn’t want to splint.”

Azzor sounded resigned more than he did disappointed, something hiding in his tone that told Gozukk they were still alright. A wave of calm washed through him. It was clear, then. It was clear what he was doing, even if all the rest - wasn’t.

As Gozukk stepped away, toward his tent, Azzor reached out and gripped his forearm. “You know I’m only paranoid because someone has to be, right, Goz?”

Gozukk gripped Azzor’s forearm in return. “And you know it’s why I made you General.”

Azzor squeezed his arm before letting go. “Go on, Mama Bird.”

“Papa Bird.”

“You’re never winning that one.”

Gozukk made a vague, dismissive noise and tried to hold onto the hope of the morning. There was breakfast. People were well-rested. The humans from yesterday were still a problem, but nothing new was looming over today. It was going to be a good day. It was.

Anna was still just inside the tent flap when he opened it, and she immediately flinched away from him, hard, one hand moving instinctively upward as if she might need to protect herself from being hit.

He wanted to reach for her shoulder, but he shouldn’t, and his body stiffened as he resisted the impulse. She took a half-step backward, bobbing her head into a series of quick half-bows. “Oh, umm... I’m sorry Sir - Mr. Gozukk - I’m - I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s alright,” he said softly, “I knew you were here, just didn’t realize you were still at the door.” He reached forward and brushed her hair behind her ear, never quite touching her head, and was pleased to find the little bobs stopping, even if she didn’t seem much calmer.

He pushed the tent flap open farther and stepped inside, moving around her with a few extra inches space to spare.

As soon as the flap closed, blocking out the morning sun, it was harder to hold onto the hope that today would be better. But then, it didn’t have to be, did it? It just needed to not be worse.

He dropped down into a comfortable squat, rather than making her look up, and her eyebrows raised in surprised as he peered at her face from below.

Her hands fluttered anxiously in front of her. “Oh - I -”

He held his hands out, hoping she’d give him hers and stay standing, rather than collapsing again. It was worth a try, anyway, and if she did fall down to her knees, at least he was already close enough to make eye contact.

“Oh!” she said again, softer this time. She placed her hands tentatively into his, her cheeks brightening into a blush.

Her hands were so small in his, immediately swallowed up even by his loosest, gentlest grasp. The bandages around her palms did a little bit to camouflage the narrow palms, but couldn’t disguise the delicacy of the slender, shaking fingers resting against his palm.

He held her hands as gently as he could manage. “Anna,” he began seriously, “I need you to listen to me, and I need you to tell me the truth. We have time, and there is no rush. Are you ready to meet people, or would you like me to bring breakfast in here?”

Her breathing shallowed, and her eyes started darting around, frightened, but she didn’t have much of anywhere else to look, not with him squatting down to look at her from under her hair, and not when she couldn’t twist away without pulling her hands out of his (admittedly loose) grip.

She blushed harder. “I can do it, Mas-” she flinched, her eyes blinking closed for a second and then meeting his fully as she corrected herself, big and pleading. “Gozukk. I can do it . . . Gozukk.” Her voice trailed away to near silence, and he decided she’d been stressed out enough. He gave her fingers a gentle, reassuring squeeze and then stood back up.

“Excellent. We’ll get you some breakfast over by where Djaana’s sitting, so you’ll have a familiar face nearby. I’ll tell the kids not to bother you.”

“Th-Thank you . . . Gozukk.”

She still seemed to be struggling with his name, but allowed him to usher her out of the tent, holding the flap open for her.

The adults in the camp made a point of not staring, in spite of the curiosity in their passing glances, but the children gawped openly, and Anna shrank closer to his side, pulling in on herself.

It felt good for her to cringe closer rather than farther away, as much as he didn’t like watching her stay so afraid. Fear is fear, Azzor had said, and backed into a corner, he was right, but Anna was a person and not a bird, and he had to hope for better.

Djaana smiled at both of them as they approached, her youngest, still just a toddler, ducking behind her calves and peering out at Gozukk and the stranger.

“How’s your back feeling this morning?” Djaana asked, her tone casual, as though this were a normal morning chat. “Mukzod is back in camp if you’d like a healer to take a look. You can go with Dumul, when he goes to train.”

Gozukk’s oldest nephew raised a hand, waving in Anna’s direction. “That’s me.”

Anna dropped into a curtsy. “Pleased to meet you.”

Dumul bowed back without rising from his feet, a deep polite nod. Gozukk’s heart warmed. Dumul and his cousin had both been a handful lately, insisting on taking new responsibilities and getting away from home, both of them only recently grown into their limbs, so that Gozukk still imagined them as lanky adolescents and was surprised when they came into view and weren’t.

Beside Dumul, Enzah rose to her feet, moving carefully and slowly toward him and Anna to avoid startling the girl, apparently having been briefed on the girl’s terror even though she’d been gone with the scouts yesterday. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, well-carved wooden comb.

“Hey, Anna,” she said gently, “My aunt told me about you. I went with some scouts yesterday to find the campsites the caravan used before, and I thought this might be yours.”

Anna backed up slightly, almost bumping against Gozukk’s side. “Oh! Um, n-no ma’am. I’m - that was - part of the cargo.”

Her face had paled a little, and Gozukk could feel her shaking just inches from him.

“Thank you, Enzah, that was kind,” he said, “Why don’t you keep it as spoils?”

She grinned, something in the expression reminding him painfully of his late brother as she did, but he needed to stay in the here and now.

“I’m not a very good medic yet,” Dumul said, “But if you’d like me to look at your hand before you eat, I can try a small healing spell. Elder Mazogga says I should focus more on slow medicine before I learn the fast way, but a little magic can’t hurt.”

Anna’s hand closed into a fist as she pulled her hand closer to her chest, almost as if on instinct.

Dumul held his hands up, palms toward her, “Or if you’re not ready, that’s fine, too. I know Uncle’s had enough battle wounds to dress them well.”

“Better than you,” Djaana commented affectionately, “You should have listened to Mazogga.”

Dumul nodded deeply, conceding the point, but they all knew they couldn’t really regret him choosing to do healer’s training first, before medicine. Enzah stretched, letting her shirt ride up to reveal the messy scar across her stomach where she’d nearly been disemboweled a few months ago, and Gozukk felt a familiar small spike of fear as he thought about the fact that she’d been allowed to go scouting again with the rest of her training cohort, even to a place as safe as an abandoned camp.

Mel had been peering out from behind her mother’s legs with more and more confidence as they all stood still, and finally tugged on Djaana’s hand, “I go Uncle Gokukk?” she asked in a whisper that wasn’t really a whisper.

“Why don’t you go see if Uncle Gozukk wants to see you?” Djaana answered back.

The girl’s eyes brightened and she took off running on her chubby little legs, closing the distance between them so fast Gozukk barely had time to squat down and open his arms to catch her. She shrieked with giggles as he scooped her up and tossed her into the air, only to catch her again and hold her steady this time, plenty aware that baby cuddles didn’t last forever.

Mel buried her face against his shoulder and peered sideways at Anna, who seemed to have calmed down a little, too.

“Anna, this is my niece Mel. Mel, can you say hi to Anna?”

The toddler looked up and waved at the half-elf, but then buried her face back in his shoulder, suddenly shy. He laughed. “Good job, Mel. Do you want to let Anna say hi, too?”

Mel turned her head to the side to look at Anna and the half-elf spoke quickly, still clearly on edge. “Oh! Hi, Mel. I’m - I’m Anna.”

He introduced her to everyone around the circle, explaining that Jak was off with a friend, but she’d seen him yesterday, and his brother-in-law was away on a long hunt, back in a few days.

Finally, he settled her down in a spot by the fire next to Enzah. Usually, he’d have said Dumul was the less intimidating of the two, but he knew Anna was wary of men. It was reassuring when Enz immediately started talking to her in a calmer, softer voice than usual, offering her food and fussing over her a little bit, more like Djaana than like her late father. He smiled softly and relaxed. She’d always been a good girl, and he knew he could trust her to try her best, even if assuaging people’s fears wasn’t exactly her strongest skill.

He moved around the camp, talking briefly with various groups of people, but with half an eye on Anna the whole time, never straying too far to get back to her quickly if he needed to.

By the time Mel was wiggling to be let down and he had to return to his sister, it was clear both that his family was happy to accept Anna, and that it was a little overwhelming for her. She’d eaten, though he couldn’t imagine Enzah hadn’t been a little harsh about forcing the issue if Anna had been as reluctant as yesterday. Her arms were back around her middle, and something in her eyes looked half-dazed, her body hunched small next to his niece’s casual lanky sprawl.

Sending Mel toddling back to her mother, he crouched down beside Anna, whose brown-green eyes met his immediately this time, half desperate. He brushed her hair behind her ear again, a quick gesture of reassurance. “One more stop, and then I think you probably need more rest. Djaana’s not wrong. A visit to the healer or the midwife wouldn’t go amiss, now that you’re settled in a little bit.”

Anna’s eyes teared up and she started shaking again, eliciting a glare from Enzah he could feel burning into the side of his face, as if there were anything he could do about this.

He patted his niece casually on the shoulder as he rose to his feet, then offered a hand to Anna to help her up.

She took it immediately, quick enough this time to surprise him, though not unwelcomely. He guided her to Mukzod’s tent without quite touching her elbow, aware even without making contact that she was trembling again, but this time as she walked close to him, she at least seemed to be staying close, rather than trying to disappear into his side entirely, which seemed like a good sign.

“Before we go in to the tent,” he said gently, “I need you to tell me if you’re uncomfortable. Mukzod heals with help from the gods, and I can promise you he won’t call down any kind of magic to hurt you. But if you’re afraid, you don’t have to be healed at all. I just also want to make sure there’s no kind of tracking magic or curse on you. And if that’s all he does, that’s alright.”

Anna nodded, but she wasn’t meeting his eyes, looking down at the ground instead, and he didn’t know whether to believe her. Either way, it was best to remove the bandage quickly. He nodded back to her and called into the tent for Mukzod’s permission to enter.

#d&d whump #past abuse tw #past slavery tw #hurt/comfort #whump #fluff #might make a masterpost and a family tree/character list #bc at this point that seems useful #i knew he had 2 nieces and 2 nephews but i did not know djaana's oldest was gonna be a doctor #what a nice surprise #dumul is an extremely good boy #also the cousins are 3 days apart so people were calling them 'the twins' even before her parents died and haven't exactly stopped #no one will ever challenge gozukk to take over leadership because he is a force to be reckoned with in battle #but does he secretly just want to toss his sister's baby in the air and make her giggle forever? maybe #his niblings keep growing up on him and it's tragic

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