#of course they mistrust authority

[lonely-space-ace]

On episode 70 and I love Caduceus being like "jesus christ have yall just never been trusted before?"

And then Beau (daddy issues) being like "No" while Fjord (daddy issues), Jester (chaos incarnate), Caleb (everything issues), and Nott all stare at him

[sskk-manifesto]

\\

[queers-gambit]

Shadows of the Past

prompt: the High King recruits you personally for the expedition headed by your intended, Herald Elrond. your company encounters the darkness and Galadriel portrays an apology to her friend.

pairing: Elrond x betrothed!female!reader

fandom masterlist: The Rings of Power

word count: 5.1k+

note: wonky brain can think of nothing but this show right now i'm so sorry

warnings: cursing, spoilers, another reader insert for the haters, depiction of character injury, emotions are hard, small canon complicit angst, literal hurt and comfort, established relationship.

"Tell me again," your brother-in-law asked, "why you're not leading this company?"

You smirked, stepping over a fallen branch, "Because the High King has bestowed the honor to Herald Elrond, Daenor."

"Then why enlist you, too?"

"I am a mere emissary of the King. Besides, skills are required for this quest, Daenor, why would I not be employed?"

"Right, of course. I guess my question should be, what skills do you possess?" He teased, laughing when you shoved his shoulder playfully. "But truly," he asked, "why would the King send you both, so close to your wedding day? Why send you, too, if not to lead this company?" However, before you could answer, the air turned serious when the procession you followed came to a rather disturbing discovery upon the laid path.

You leaned on the intact stone while listening to Camnir discuss with Elrond possible paths forward after intending to cross a bridge over the gorge, only to find it in ruins and rubble. Elrond originally questioned the force that could've brought the ancient stone down in such a harsh and violent manner, thinking perhaps lightning, but another voice refuted this idea by claiming it was the Dark Lord, Sauron.

This familiar voice was that of Lady Galadriel - and while you've known her to be a fellow Commander, you were unsure of her title now. Yes, she was technically lieutenant of this company, and that was what she was addressed as, but you knew how stubborn the Elleth was and that she would not be so easily demoted.

You said nothing. You just listened as Camnir told Elrond they could take one of two paths: one so out of the way, it would add two weeks to their journey, and the other, down the same darkened path the Dark Lord laid.

Upon mentioning the path before them through the Hills of Tyrn Gorthad, Lady Galadriel twitched. She had been daintily ghosting her fingertips over the charred and mangled metal of the lanterns set on the imploded bridge, seemingly stuck in thought, then freezing. You couldn't see her face, only taking note of the brisk tension mounting in the Elleth's shoulders.

She spoke, "There is evil in those hills." The group shared silent looks, each with varying degrees of mistrust or caution. "Ancient, and full with malice," Galadriel glared at the landscape before her. "Sauron means for us to go that way. We must go another," She informed the group as if she were in a position to give orders.

From the crouch he took to observe the damage done to the stone, Elrond rose while speaking in a firm tone that overpowered the Lady's, "The Enemy is doubtless watching both roads." His eyes flickered over yours last as jetting over each of his soldiers, clocking the way you nodded in agreement. To you, it seemed common sense: of course, the bad guy was watching the paths that would lead the good guys to him! He was evil, not stupid! Elrond reminded his people, "This collapse makes it more critical than ever to reach Celebrimbor at speed."

"We won't reach anywhere with speed if we walk into a trap," Galadriel argued; the two friends (and distant cousins) held each other's even stare for several moments.

"What say you, Commander?" You asked, hoping to break the tension and little trance they were locked in. No, no, not out of jealousy, but out of protectiveness; wanting to break the ice for the sake of Elrond's authority.

"We go South," Elrond decided, turning from the fragmented bridge stump, ready to lead his company on, when Galadriel spoke again - from the same spot she had yet to move from.

"Commander, I must protest."

You did not move when the others did, you waited when Elrond paused and replied, "Your opinion on the matter has been heard."

He went to walk away again when Galadriel growled with a rolling tongue, "Elrond!"

You flinched to a halt in blinding irritation, upset by your peer's very audacity. Everyone halted around you, Camnir even shifting in his stance out of nervousness from the heat of your glare not on him. Your fiancé turned back to glare at his friend, ending with finality, "Opinion heard, lieutenant. We go South." He gave an encouraging command in Sindarin, leading only a few strides before pausing. When you automatically halted yourself at his side, he nodded and spoke softly while seemingly mindlessly grabbing your hand to give an affectionate and reassuring squeeze, "Lead them on, love, stay on the trail."

You glanced back at Galadriel, who was finally moving to keep up, and whispered for only his ears, "You sure?"

"I'm sure, go on," he confirmed, nodding again and offering a soft sort of half-smirk. His eyes, though, were squinted; indicating he was genuine in his displayed gentleness. With a squeeze to his hand, you offered one last stale look at Galadriel, who expertly avoided your eyes, then let go and walked forward to lead the way.

Behind you, Elrond snarled his scolding of Galadriel, insisting she shape up, forgo trust in the Ring of Power she wore, and if that wasn't possible, she needed to excuse herself. The Commander of the Northern Armies rebutdtaled that she did not desire to see any member of the company slain - a veiled response to her stubbornness to not abandon their quest and refusal to ignore her ring.

Forward, you marched.

Though you seldom showed it, you felt fearfully nervous when the night fell and your company crept further into what felt like infected wood. The ground turned spongey, a particular stench permeated the air, the darkness shadowed most all you saw. The trees loomed tall, the moon casted a bright silver light, and dead leaves crunched under booted, lithe steps. Elrond shared a nervous look with you, his hand only briefly brushing yours; a way to say he was there with you without being overly affectionate in front of his soldiers.

From the corner of his eye, Elrond saw your head tilt back in wonder before a fell voice hissed on the wind, "I am waiting for you." But in truth, nobody was sure about what they heard or did not hear. Perhaps they did not want to know, but still, the voice made the area further darken in suspicion, and once in a small clearing, all came to a halt to survey the surrounding area. There was a threat somewhere, but where exactly was yet to be determined.

Daenor questioned sharply, "What is this place?"

"Tyrn Gorthad," Camnir answered. "Known to men as the Barrow-downs."

You chimed in softly, "In ancient days, this was where they laid their lords and kings to rest."

"I feel no rest here," Daenor grumbled. "Even the trees seem ill at ease."

"Fear not," Vorohil chimed in, sounding amused while stepping up to (and through) your group's observation deck. "Dead men are no threat."

"Well, we've lived very different lives," you scoffed under your breath.

However, after Vorohil, Elrond followed; casting a look at the lot of you and reminding, "Keep moving."

You let the others pass ahead of you, trying to shake off your nerves and mentally prepare yourself for the hell you were walking into. Something anchored your feet, refusing to let go; every nerve in your body on fire and begging you not to wade into the dark. Your name was spoken gently, Galadriel's hand on your shoulder startling you.

"What is it?" She asked quietly.

"We shouldn't be here," you whispered, Elrond doubling back when he noted your delay. Not wanting a confrontation, Galadriel sighed and patted your shoulder before slipping away as your lover approached you.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly but urgently.

"There's something sinister here," you told him stiffly, stepping half a step closer, "watching us."

He took a breath, "If Galadriel's ring - "

"It's not that!" You insisted. "I feel it, Elrond, not the ring, not anything Galadriel said. I feel it."

Elrond's brows furrowed at the tips, like something hooked them to yank towards his nose. "Then stay close to me," he decided.

"We should move on, quickly," you snatched his hand to prevent him from parting; his gaze turning worried. "Please, listen to me."

"My love," he spoke softly, squeezing your hand, "it is a gravesite, nothing more. The dead cannot harm us."

"It is the living's influence I fear."

He sighed and nodded, "We will not linger." His forehead found yours to rest, "But do not stray from my side, it is of great comfort."

"To us both," you agreed, letting him pull back. Yet he did not relinquish hold of your hand, keeping it tight in his and leading you into the clearing the others were surveying.

"Commanders," Rían called, standing over the corpses of two horses... Attacked seemingly a time ago, and upon inspection, discovered the pairing bodily remains of an Elvish party.

Elrond questioned your name when you squatted, brushing aside debris. "Their barding is from Lindon," you told him, gently ghosting the leather with your touch. You looked up to meet his eyes, glancing over to see Galadriel, predicting, "The King sent a dispatch to warn Celebrimbor."

Galadriel nodded in confirmation as Rían discovered the encased message from the King in a decorative tube, asking, "This dispatch?"

Slowly, you stood from your position and held a silent hand out, being given the tube for inspection; all eyes on you, waiting for whatever your overly keen (even for an Elf) eyes would see. After confirming the contents, your eyes locked with Galadriel's, and she spoke what you both were thinking: "We must go from this place."

Elrond appeared ready to agree, tension mounting as your company seemingly felt the blanket of panic being thrown over them all. From the dark, a set of rotting chains shot out to coil around Daemor, yanking him into the toxic, spongey earth and across the clearing.

"Y/N!" He shouted in shock, and without thinking, your hands slapped into his as if in an effort to anchor him... But you were both yanked off your feet. "Commander!"

"Daenor! NO!"

"Help me! Y/N, Y/N, please!"

"Hold onto me!" You begged, being drug on your belly.

"Sister! Sister, please, help me! Help me!" He sobbed in fear, a vice grip on your wrists and hands surely to leave blemishes. "Don't let go! Pl-eeeeeaaaaaase!"

"Daenor!" You whimpered, struggling as the force that held you both hostage was too strong to maintain a safe, secure hold permanently - meaning, saving him was futile.

Your name was bellowed, being drug towards one of the opened tombs; but at the last moment, the tether that kept you and Daenor together was broken and he was pulled into the abyss of the grave. You whimpered in fear, slowly lifting from your belly and to your knees as Daenor's screams were silenced... In fact, the entire area turned eerily quiet.

Behind you, the others rushed to the scene and Elrond immediately dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around you. "Are you hurt? Hey, hey, look at me, are you hurt?" He demanded, fearful that the chains might shoot out again to finish the job to swallow you in the dark. He checked for any physical injury, but the tension was too great to ignore; the mouth of the tomb glaring at you, forcing Elrond to silence himself.

You flinched back into his hold when the gruesome sounds of crunching bone and squelching flesh was heard; indicating whatever was inside, whatever claimed Daenor, had disposed of his living body.

Elrond took advantage of your flinch to rock you back onto your feet, standing as a group as a voice hissed, "Cold old be hand and heart and bone, And cold be sleep under stone, Never more to wake on stony bed, Never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead." Galadriel brandished her sword as the wights first emerged, revealing their zombified forms. You encouraged the group to form together in a circle as the demons emerged. The Voice continued, "In the black wind, the stars shall die."

"Prepare yourselves," Galadriel warned, the group arming themselves.

"What are they?" Rían trembled.

From perfectly between Galadriel and Elrond, you answered, "They are those who laid in the tombs, the Lords and Kings of old... Lore calls them Barrow-wights."

The creatures surrounded your company, leering, growling, sizing you up. In Sindarin, Elrond commanded, "Attack!"

In tandem, the group lunged; weapons striking the ghoulish foes but they merely disintegrated in air... Then reformed. It seemed that fighting only served to irritate the enemies, their collective hissing and screeching making stomachs curl and skin to prickle in fear. Galadriel clocked this first, warning Rían, "Still your arrow!"

But the Elleth was already locked and loaded, the string slipping from her grip to fire at a distant wight. But it only soared through the zombie's face, not stopping, directing towards Camnir - but Elrond intercepted, swiping his sword to cut its path and save his soldier. The creature rejuvenated.

"They're impervious to our weapons," Camnir voiced, fear inking his tone.

Elrond's eyes found yours, seemingly connected by a string of similar thought; remembering the old wives tales you once read a lifetime ago, ancient lore about Barrow-wights dating back to the time of Melkor. So, he sheathed his sword and told his soldiers, "Hold fast." To Camnir, the closest to him, he demanded, "Come with me!"

"Where are you going?"

"Help me open it," Elrond told him, trying to pry open the sealed tomb as you swiped at another wight's skeletal hand reaching for you.

"What?"

"Hurry!" Elrond barked in Sandarin.

Back in your group, Rían muttered nervously, "Commander?"

"Ease yourself, remain calm..."

"What do we do?"

"Make no sudden movements. Stay together, fend them off but don't engage a fight," you advised, "hold strong - "

A gasp cut off your words when chains coiled around your ankle; securing in a tight zip that knocked you off balance and back into the toxic dirt. You scrambled for purchase on anything, finding only wet leaves; and suddenly, the chain turned taunt with tension before you were being sucked back into another tomb.

"Commander!" Vorohil shouted, trying to reach for you, but just missing as you were reeled back over the dirt.

"Y/N!" Rían cried, alerting Elrond and Camnir of your situation. You whimpered in fear, sobbing as you couldn't fight the force; couldn't save yourself; only able to helplessly submit to your approaching doom after clawing unsuccessfully for salvation.

"No! No!" You yelped, trying to remove the chains, but another tightened around the first chain in a horribly tight, vice grip that strangled breath from your lungs from the pure burning sting. With the last of your air, you screamed, "Elrond! Please!"

You heard Vorohil sprinting after you, freezing in your escape attempt when a grisly, decayed hand extended from the ebony shadow of the tomb towards you. There was a panicked finality to your blood, fear clogging rational thought; never seeing Elrond, only focused on the threat pulling you in. But the half-Elf you meant to marry in only a few weeks time came surging onto the scene, sliding on his knees at the mouth of the tomb and swinging a sword to sever both hand and chains.

"Y/N - "

"Fuck's sake!" You snarled, unintentionally cutting Elrond off; shoving the chains from your leg, scrambling to your feet.

You were just about to thank Elrond when he instead encouraged, "Here, take this." He held out one of the ancient weapons excavated from the tomb, nodding with increased vigor before turning away when it was in your grip. You hacked and stabbed the wight that came after you, Elrond and Camnir tossing the rest of the company weapons to cast down the surrounding enemies.

"How?" Rían asked in shock, seeing the wisps of the last wights waft into the wind.

"According to lore, only the blades with which they were buried with will return such creatures to rest," Elrond explained.

"But the men buried here have been entombed for over a thousand years," Camnir trembled, turning to his companion.

Vorohil seethed, "I think it is safe to say that something has awoken them."

"No," Galadriel argued, glaring down at the wight's decaying body. "Someone... Awakening evil. Across all Middle-earth."

You ignored the conversation and slowly took a seat; leaving your weapon in the dirt while focusing on hiking up your trouser leg after discarding your boot. With a clenched jaw, you revealed the wight's chains left sizzling lacerations; the metal seemingly enchanted to burn damn near to the bone, creating craters, indentations, dimples to your otherwise pure and unblemished flesh.

You winced when fabric stuck to the wound, bearing your teeth while hissing through them; breathing turning staggered as the pain became biting. "Commander?" You heard Camnir question softly with concern, others turning to set their attention on you.

"It's nothing," you insisted, observing the wound and deciding a tourniquet was required.

"You're hurt," Elrond growled, surging forward and unintentionally knocking Galadriel's shoulder - but the Elleth didn't take offense. The others wanted to close in around you, but Galadriel held them back after witnessing you before. As Commander of the Southern Armies, you had seen many battles with Galadriel, and sometimes, you sustained injury; she's witnessed how you turned akin to a panicked animal when accosted with attention - no matter how genuine the concern.

"It's nothing," you repeated, reaching for one of your belts, "I'm fine."

"You're not - "

"It's a burn, Elrond, nothing more," you sniffled, feeling how far up the chain had gone; deciding to tie the tourniquet above your knee.

"Let me," Elrond whispered, laying his hands over yours that shook and trembled without abandon.

"Elrond - "

"Just," he snipped, needing to pause and take a breath, "please, let me help you."

Behind him, Galadriel ushered the others away to a short distance; deciding to gather whatever belongings of Daenor they could to honor his lost life. You met Elrond's worried gaze and nodded, sniffling, "Okay. J-Just above the knee, here," you showed him.

"I know, love, I've got yah," he breathed, shuffling closer and kneeling beside you while taking the belt. You pulled the material of your trousers straight, grimacing when Elrond first wrapped the leather around your thigh. "All right?" He checked, seeing you nod rapidly; no words used because you were holding your breath to prevent yourself from crying out. When Elrond first tied the leather, you whimpered and his eyes turned teary. "It's gonna get worse, love, just hang on f'me - " He warned you before suddenly tightening the tourniquet, making you yelp painfully. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I know it hurts, I know, I know, I'm so sorry," he repeated, your hands latching onto his forearms out of subconscious need to feel him for comfort while he secured the leather belt. When done, he reached for your cheeks and pet hair that escaped your braids behind your ears, encouraging, "Breathe for me, just breathe, love. You're all right, there you go. Breathe. Good, good, I've got you, I'm so sorry, just breathe, just breathe... Oh, I, uh..."

"What's wrong?" You worried when he trailed off; eyes full of tears and his mouth half opening while retracting his hands that you held by his wrists still.

"I've blood on my hands..." He splayed them in display between you two.

"It's okay - "

"Got it on your face," he frowned.

"It's fine," you insisted, sniffling sadly, "it's my blood, anyway. We should be moving - "

"You're hurt."

"I know, but it's not life threatening, I don't need coddled."

"I'm not coddling you - "

"You are," you half smirked, "because you're worried."

"Of course, I am," he scoffed, using his sleeve to wipe your cheeks and temples free of blood. "How can I not be? You..." His voice quaked with emotion, "You are my starlight, my fairest friend, my sweetest love. Seeing you hurt..."

"I know," you whispered, bringing him close so your foreheads met, "but I'm okay."

"For now."

You sighed, pulling back to respond, "Don't say that, don't even think it. Optimism is our only friend in this situation, else, what is the point of going after Sauron?"

He needed to take a breath, sniffling his own emotion. "Fine. We should rest until morning... Regroup, give you time off this leg for now."

You nodded, "You sure?"

"I think we could all use the reprieve," he admitted.

"Does that include you?" You asked while caressing the coils of chestnut off his forehead.

"I'm fine - "

"As I am?"

Elrond paused, then scoffed a small laugh and nodded. "I'm managing..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

"Hey," you whispered, bringing him back to your forehead, "you're doing an excellent job of leading this company. But we all have limits and tonight was a lot, you deserve the time to breathe."

"Time is something we don't have."

"We have enough for now," you insisted, more or less forcing Elrond to relent.

As Daenor's belongings were pulled from the tomb and buried in the scorched earth his killers had rose from, the company each offered you hollowed words of condolences for your loss. Beside Elrond, it was known, you and your brother-in-law were great friends - being the reason he met and eventually married your sister. His sword was embedded in the ground as a marker, the company gathered to silently pay their respects while their commander stood at the riverbed's edge in deep, solemn contemplation.

You held one of his daggers, intending to keep it in reminder; pocketing a few pieces of jewelry, intending to give it to his wife. However, all was interrupted when from a distance, you heard the booming rumble of drums. Not just any drums, but the beating sounds of a marching procession; something ominous and daunting. You perked up, standing to your feet as something dark and familiar started in your chest before sinking to your gut. By looks of your company, they, too, heard the drums and shared your worried thoughts; sheathing Daenor's dagger to your belt and surging for where Elrond stood speaking to Galadriel.

"Forgive my intrusion," you bid the pair, Elrond turning instantly.

"Are you all right?" His hand reached for your hip instantly, trying to help stabilize you - if you had been off balance.

Your hand laid to his cheek, answering swiftly, "I'm fine," before dropping your hand to rest on his bicep, "but we've heard drums - in the deep. Sounds like there's a host on the march."

This sent the company into action, tracking the sound of the enemy over leagues of wooded area. By the end of the day, at dusk, you all gathered slowly on a darkened clifftop; watching in horror as legions of orcs marched down the beaten path to the sounds of their war drums. "Orc treachery," Rían cursed upon sight.

"That trail...?" Elrond questioned, letting go of his secure hold on you to lower in a squat, "I gather it leads to - "

"Eregion, my liege," Camnir confirmed.

"We came in search of Sauron," Vorohil narrated everyone's thought and question, "And instead, we find Adar?"

"Could they be in league with each other or... Perhaps at war," Elrond thought aloud, you shifting on your bad leg for a moment to readjust your stance among the trees.

"A legion of Orcs have marched into Elvish lands," Galadriel spat in anger, glaring at Elrond. "We are all of us at war."

Elrond agreed, "Word of this must reach the High King before our host sails for Mordor."

The silence was calm in a resolute sort of way, everyone just pausing to bask in their shock and awe. This was shattered when a distant Orc shouted, "There!" An arrow thunked into the trunk of the tree behind you, a horse neighing shrilly as it galloped through the forrest towards freedom and away from its pursuers. Just as the company turned to face the enemy, another arrow flew through the air almost inconspicuously, finding its mark in the soft part of your chest just beneath your sternum.

You grunted when the arrow landed, taking half a step back and wanting to cry out. Instead, you just held where the arrow embedded itself in your flesh. You felt dizzy suddenly, clothes and hand saturating with blood as the arrow had pierced through the aorta artery to cause major damage. Irreparable damage. Fatal damage...

In a whisper, Elrond told his soldiers in Sindarin, "Hold!"

In the distance, the Orcs were heard complaining about the horse escaping while a few random arrows were fired off again in a last ditch effort to wound the animal. If you did not move, the mangey creatures did not notice, smell, or sense you. But you couldn't form a full coherent thought, just understanding your injury, the looming grace of Death soon to kiss you, that breath was becoming increasingly harder to come by, and the pain - the pain was aching, soon spiking.

You did not mean to, but your fear was too great to ignore, and you stuttered in a whimpered gasp, "El-Elrond?"

His head snapped over, seeing the arrow protruding from your chest and feeling himself crumble inside. You were choking on blood, trying to remain silent - and they all saw that effort. How blood came splattering from your nose as you tried to subdue your noise, but that only made it harder to breathe; inadvertently choking, a groan strangled from your lungs just as Elrond reached you. He held you to him with his chest and single arm anchoring your waist, the other lifting to lay his hand over your mouth as Galadriel glued to your other side for added support.

The company moved back several yards, covering ground swiftly before laying you down behind a natural outcropping of protective rock. You were struggling, unable to fight it any longer; hacking a cough, blood spewing, splattering, streaking down your neck, the pain insurmountable. Elrond's one hand cushioned under your head, tears in his eyes as he could only hold you as the Orcs were heard closing in, other hand once more clasping over your mouth.

Still, Galadriel was sandwiching you, wincing when Elrond's hand stifled your groans of pain as he strained himself to peak over the top of the rocks. When he lowered himself, your lover leaned his forehead on your temple and hushed in your ear, "I'm so sorry." Upon lifting, he met Galadriel's eyes, who had been examining your wound, only to find her's full of sadness. Her head shook with muted words - telling him whatever she saw wasn't good.

You whimpered lightly. The Orcs could smell an Elf.

You wrangled Elrond's hand from your mouth, "Lis-Listen to me - "

"Hush, do not - "

"Shut up and listen!" You hissed, keeping hold of his hand, "'M not makin' it outta this, love, you've gotta go. L-Leave me - "

"No!"

"Elrond. Leave me," you insisted, "and they'll k-know 's m-me they smell. Y-You have t'warn the H-High King."

"I'm not leaving you," Elrond grit.

You smiled sadly, "And I love y-you for that. B-But you h-have t-t-to."

"Not in this lifetime," he begged, a few tears falling. "Just give me time to think, I'll figure something out."

"Time... Is something we don't have," you repeated his words from earlier. Suddenly, Galadriel just knew something without words; a feeling; a sort of understanding that she could help in this moment. She heard you whisper, "I'm so sorry, this wasn't supposed to happen. W-We should've had so much more time - "

"Please, don't say that," Elrond begged quietly.

Galadriel took a sobering breath and moved her hands to the base of the arrow; pressing enough to make you wince and breath in sharply. Elrond went to tell her to back off, but paused when The Ring of Power she wore twinkled in the dark night - seemingly pulling you out of that fatal twilight. Your breathing turned slow... Eyes clearing of hazy pain... Life breathing back into your flesh...

The arrow fell out, making all three of you gasp. Galadriel's hands fell away as your own shot to where your wound had been - finding it healed between the fabric the arrow tore. You looked at the Elleth in shock, breathing, "You healed me...?"

She just nodded, Vorohil speaking in astonished Sindarin, "Amazing."

"You're - You're, you are - ?" Elrond stuttered in shock.

"I'm okay," you confirmed, caressing his cheek as he beamed down at you in pure glee. "I'm okay, love, I'm okay; Galadriel, she healed me," you sniffled, looking to your friend. "Thank you, my friend."

"Of course," she breathed, the Orcs heard shouting in the distance to overturn every rock. With a look of shared understanding, Galadriel told Elrond over your body while you tried to mop up some blood, "Get to Lindon. I will occupy them as long as I am able. Get her up."

Elrond huffed through his nose, but did as bid - not like he needed to even be told in the first place. He gathered you into himself and stood, making sure you were stable before looking back at Galadriel; slowly squatting again as she wriggled the ring from her finger. "Take it," she breathed, presenting Elrond with the band of jewelry. When he made no move, she snatched his hand and folded the ring into his grasp, "Take it, Elrond!"

"What will you do?" He asked begrudgingly, storing the ring in a leather pouch for safety.

"Something foolish, probably," she smirked, nodding in meaning. "Now, go. Go!"

"Elrond, love," you whispered, holding your hand out for his and heaving him to his feet. "With me, c'mon, quickly," you advised the others, beginning the trek down a new path in the woods. As you moved, you realized that Galadriel's ring hadn't just healed the arrow wound, but the Barrow-wight's chain, as well, which helps remedy your limp.

A semi-safe distance away, there came a decently loud and abrupt boom behind you, and upon looking, saw the trees up in flames. It was where Galadriel must've been battling the Orcs alone.

In earnest impression, Camnir narrated, "She scarified herself to save us all."

Elrond came to a halt when he realized his company members were captivated by the sight of heroics in action. So he interrupted their dreamy thoughts by calling, "No, you are mistaken, Camnir." He stalked forward through his delegates, telling them in their native tongue, "She did not do it to save us."

Tension simmered over each member.

"What?" Camnir questioned.

Elrond turned away from the spectacle with Galadriel's fire, consulting the dark again, speaking with ramped distain in Sandarin, "She did it to save the ring." His hand reached for yours again, the two of you leading the company forward with him calling over his shoulder in the Common Tongue, "Hurry!"

requesting rules and masterlist

TROP masterlist

[myladysapphire]

My Lady Strong (IX)

Aemond had always been protective of his neice, obssessed even, insiting on keeping her sheltered, and purley his, he never let her stray far and following the incident at Driftmark, Aemma was rarley without Aemond as her shadow. How will the kind, sheltered girl fair in the dance of dragons?

word count: 3,564

CW: MDI 18+, pregnancy, (difficult) grapic depictions of child birth, angst, manipulation, toxic relationship, dark/possessive Aemond, co dependency, self harm. not proofread!

Fem!oc x dark!Aemond Targeryen

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

(birth seen between dividers by @zaldritzosrose)

authors note: sorry if this seems messy!

Two years had come and gone since the wedding.

Her mother had left, there reunion short lived, and all hope lost as her mother realised how easily she had lost her daughter to the greens.

Woven so far into their net, that it was impossible for her to escape.

Believing so blindly the words of Aemond and Alicent.

Finding no cause or reason to mistrust them, seeing any reason for Aemond to act cruel as her fault.

Aemond had inserted himself so thoroughly into her life now that it was impossible to tell the difference in their lives.

she would follow him around like a lost puppy, and he would tug her alone with him wherever he went.

She was always with him or in her chambers. Never anywhere alone.

And she liked it like that.

For when she was alone the dreams came.

Dreams of blood and dragons.

Dreams that only sought to bring her pain.

She could never stop them. Not truly, nor had she ever told Aemond of them, or of reason for the scratches lacing her body.

He had noticed them, of course he had, with his cock filling her day and night there was no way he hadn’t, and yet he had bit his tongue at the sight of them.

Perhaps because they were in the same place as her scares from the black cells. scares he had long grown used too, especially after he treated them. How he was her only comfort when that incident had happened, the only one she would let touch her.

He loved to remind her of how he was she only one truly they’re for her, both then and now

Married and bound by soul and law. She was his and he was hers, for two years now her life had revolved around him. She found little she for having her own thoughts and opinions, finding most of the time they were too silly or simple to be of any use.

At least that’s what Aemond would say.

But despite that she never felt small, only that he understood her. He knew her limits, her struggles and did not wish for her to suffer.

Though if you asked Aemond, and though he would never admit it, he liked her simple, complacent.

He had not only won her trust through guilt.

Guilt of her brothers’ actions, guilt of craving a bond between the brothers who caused him pain.

He had also won her love.

He remembers the day she had said it, near six moons into their marriage.

“Aemond” she had said, wrapped in his arms after a night of passion, “I…I think that I love you” she said, her voice so soft and worried.

As if despite his professions of love, his actions devotions where all fake, as if a disguise for the Aemond who had called her “my lady strong”, or the Aemond who had teased her and been so effortlessly cruel for years on end.

And though Aemond was cruel, still the man who craved to carve out her brother’s eye, who still bite his tounge every time he saw her, wishing to announce her bastardy to the court.

But he didn’t, the years of being cruel have shown him that being cruel to Aemma was not what he desired, not what she deserved.

She had been his only friend and only love, and though he did not regret the cruelty of him for years towards her, he regretted how rash he had been in it.

The game he had played with her for so long had come to ruin.

The game of making her the eldest pawn for him and the greens.

He loved her, that much was true, you could not argue he didn’t.

He just simply couldn’t show it, not when she reminded him for so long of the pain he had felt as her kid brother struck out his eye.

And know as she said “I love you” wrapped in his arms, her belles swelled with his babe, he knew he had won.

Not only had his plans to isolate her worked. Her family loosing hope with her and making her entirely his.

But now she loved him just as she once did.

He smiled, caressing her hair “I love you” he whispered, possessively.

She smiled, her usual timid smile, she went to say something more, but she bites her tongue, instead throng her head to kiss him softly.

The inner workings of Aemmas thoughts were so tricky to place.

A part of her knew she was being manipulated but she couldn’t understand it or understand why.

She understood the love Aemond felt for her and how the love she felt she had lost with her mother had been replaced with him.

But ever since her mother’s departure something had been nagging on her mind.

Her mother had insisted she had sent letter, and never received hers. It made no sense and yet the look Aemond would send her whenever she sat at his desk, reaching for a pen and paper. the pen hovering but never writing words as she tried and tried to think of what to write.

He sent her a look of worry; she wondered if it was for her or for what her letters might say.

She couldn’t understand the idea that Aemond would have prevented her mother and her reviving letters. It made no sense.

Her mind raced and raced with a million thoughts, and all her mindful return to be the dreams of blood. Blood on her hands, her sheets.

Even know a year after she had confessed her love her mind raced, her thoughts never stopped. She never had a moment of clarity, and she swore she was going mad.

The scratching had started again, and with a husband who never left her side she o idk not hide it.

He looked at her with such worry and concern.

Mother hemming her as he wrapped and bounds her arms, covering her scars and helping the to heal. Leavings off kisses as he went, begging for answers.

“Aemma, my love. What plagues you?” he asked his tone soft and sweet.

He was ever so soft at times, and yet other times he was could be brash and harsh.

“I am scared” she whispered, her head falling into her hands.

“What of?” he asked, no demanded. He had become such a fierce protector; it was after all his excuse for being so distant and cruel all those years.

“The tides, the sister” she spoke quickly, shaking her head, as images of head rolling flashed through her.

Her hand gripped her swollen stomach “my boy” she whispered.

“What do you mean?”

“The tides will come Aemond” she spoke in riddles. Riddles that Heleana knew all too well.

For years it had only been dreams and yet her mind was so full of dreams that sometimes they just spilled out in confusing riddles for others to pick apart.

“Tides?” he tilted his head, “the sea? Ahh the sea snake…he will recover I am sure” Aemond said softly, news had reached them of his injury, of the bids for succession of drift mark.

A part of him wanted to make his own bid, though technically Aemmas bid.

As a second son he would receive nothing, why not join the other second sons and bid for Driftmark also?

The doors to their chambers opened, Dayna, a maid, walking in with their son, a boy fast approaching his first name day, named Aerion.

“My sweet boy” Aemma said standing up with a start. She hated him being away from her, fearing he would be taken at any moment.

“Thank you, Dayna,” she whispered holding an Aerion close to her.

Aemond walked to her once more, smiling sorry as their son giggled in her arms. “you mother will be here soon” he said caressing Aerion’s cheek.

“Do you wish to greet them?” he didn’t wish to go himself, but small choices like these made Aemma feel free and not like the prisoner she truly was.

“i…I do not know” she did know, she wanted to see her mother, she had cried and cried for her, craving to see her and yet she had not once brought herself to write to her, instead she had forced herself to find the comfort of a mother in Alicent, and it was never the same.

He hummed, “I have training” he said, almost as if to grant her permission.

“I shall go then, better to introduce Aerion earlier than not” she said, nervously.

She didn’t know what she would say.

She was a stranger to all now, 2 years and passed since she had seen them, and even then, they were strangers, wishing to reignite a closeness that was long lost. Thanks to the efforts of others.

Dressed in a sea green gown, with Aerion on her hip. She stood in the courtyard awaiting her mother’s arrival. She stood alone, with few courtiers coming to great the heir, and those that had only seemed shocked when her mother stepped out of the carriage.

Sending her mother a nervous simile, Aemma walked down the steps to greet her.

“mother” she said in greeting, her voice the usual shy and timid it had always been, but never with her own mother.

Unlike her wedding, where only her mother, Jace and Luke had attended. This time, all her siblings, even the ones she had never meet and even Daemon had accompanied her.

“Aemma” her mother said breathlessly taking her in, a timid smile graced her lips.

not much more was sent between your or your family as you walked them through the halls of the keep.

Though they were greeted by few friendly faces, many turned their nose up at her mother, favouring greeting Aemma over her.

“Aemma” her mother spoke once more, sitting down in as they finally walked into her mothers’ old rooms. “How have you been?”

Huffing slightly, Aemma replied, “I have been well, muna, I- “she looked down to where Aerion sat on her hip, his curios eyes looking around the room.  “This is Aerion…your grandson” she muttered, coming to brush his hair away from his face.

He was the perfect combination of Aemma and Aemond, with silver hair and purple eyes, the shade being a perfect match of Aemmas. His face bore her nose and his shape.

“Aerion?” Rhaenrya breathed, smiling slightly as he turned to face her at the sound of his name. “I- had heard news…I am sorry that you did not writer to me of the news yourself.”

“I…it was a difficult pregnancy; I was bed bound for most of it…and with how you left things last time I- I wasn’t sure you wanted to hear from me”.

Daemond scoffed, shaking his head as if what Aemma said was a lie.

“of course…dōna riña, I would have come” Rhaenyra said, moving towards Aemma.

“You said you would visit before, and you never did”.

Rhaenrya’s heart broke, she had felt like she had truly lost her daughter. Her sweet girl had been taken from her and she had done nothing to top it, even years after realising all she had done was hide on Dragonstone wallowing in grief at loosing a daughter who still lived.

“I am sorry, tala, truly”.

Aemma softened, always one to easily take an apology and never one to hold a grudge. No matter how badly she wished too.

“Would you like to hold him?”

Her mother smiled, sighing a small sigh of relief before nodding her head and enthusiastically taking her grandson in her arms, “he looks just like you, dōna riña”.

“I think he is the perfect mix of me and Aemond” Rhaenyra flinched at the mention of him. Their conversation forms two hears prior still haunted her.

“Rhaenyra” she heard a voice say, the voice of her half-brother.

“Yes?” She answered, as Aemma was led to a corner with her ladies, trying on her wedding gown.

“Is there something on your mind?” he said teasingly.

She knew he had never liked her, especially after Driftmark. And though she had craved to be neutral with her half siblings the mere fact he had taken away her only daughter from her, made her hate him.

And now that she knew he had stolen her letters, hidden Aemmas own to her. She depside him.

Depside how Aemma trusted him and doubter her.

Rhaenyra scowled “you know exactly what’s on my mind, tell me the truth of it’.

He smirked, “hmmm, I do not know what you mean”.

“Yes, you do” she insisted, “my own daughter thinks I abandoned her, I know those are not her own thoughts”.

‘Oh, please, I only told her what she was already thinking” he smirked.

“That cannot be true” she seethed.

 “you’re not going to fix your relationship by arguing with me now are you?” he smiled, and Aemma called him over, “whether you like it or not she is to be my wife and to my Aemma, I will be here for her, and you…you will be swiftly heading back to Dragonstone, leaving her yet again” he quickly left before she could reply, not that she had much to think on as she knew everything Aemond had said was true.

The words circled her brain day and night. How had she not noticed that her daughter, her sweet loving daughter.

Her favourite child.

Had been so heavily manipulated by the greens, how her sweet girl who had promised to write every week had not sent a single letter.

And how she had let Dameon convince her to stay away. That she was better off with them her.

That she had been lost to them before she had even married Aemond.

“Yes…he is he. And the child in your belly… a boy or a girl do you think?

“I hope for a girl, though I think it to be another boy” Aemma said, smiling as her mother cooed down at Aerion.

“I believe I am to have another girl…your sister”.

“About time” Aemma joked, “I have long asked for a sister”.

“Kessa ñuha dōna riña, emā” Rhaenyra whispered, starting at her daughter as she took her son back into her arms.

yes, my sweet girl, you have.

Daemon coughed once more behind her, seeing Aemma a look she could not place.

“We should go see your grandsire now…perhaps we- I could join you for dinner?”

“I- have to ask Aemond”.

“of course…send me a note dōna riña.”

She nodded, taking her leave.

She didn’t join Aemma for dinner that night, receiving word for a smirking Aemond.

 The next day they had all gathered in the throne room, the court divided.

The blacks on one side, the greens on the other.

And Aemma, still unbeknownst to the guide, wore and emerald green dress, stood beside Aemond. Hand clutching her swollen belly.

Otto stood at the front of the throne room, speaking on behalf of her grandsire. “Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark.” Otto spoke, “As Hand, I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters.” He moved his head to face Vaemond “The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon.”

“My Queen, My Lord Hand.” Vaemond started. “The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the Doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind.  Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end to their bloodlines and their name. I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother’s seat. I am Lord Corlys’s closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins.” He spoke, before being interrupted by her mother, who refused to face him.

“As it does in my sons and daughter, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon. If you cared so much about your house’s blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir…No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambition” Otto cut her off.

“You will have chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra. Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard.” Otto said, allowing Vaemond to continue, a smirk on his face.

“What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you, and you still wouldn’t recognize it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours.”

Aemmas mind began to circle. The sound of blood filling her ears, the slice of a sword yet unsheathed.

Blood dripping.

A dagger slicing.

Whores dancing.

Her mind circled again and again, in a never-ending loop of green and black fading into one and ending only with death.

Her hands were covered in blood, and no matter how hard she spends them on her dress it would not go away, how could it? When the blood had yet to be spilled?

The sound of a dragon’s roar and the crashing of tides.

She screamed, covering her ears. and a head…the head of Vaemond Veleryon came rolling towards her.

Blood spilling over her gown, and more blood lacing her hands.

A sharp pain hit her then.

Her breathing grew heavy. Her hand gripping her stomach, as another sharp pain hit.

Aemond touched her then, bringing her out of her thoughts.

His face and the face of her mother and brothers filled with concern, as pain wracked through her body.

“Aemond” she breathed, her voice scared as pain, a contraction she now realised hit her once more.

Her grabbed her to him, picking her body up and running though the halls, calling for the midwives as they reached their chambers.

Her screams filled the halls of the keep.

Cries of pain and fear as the midwives told her to push and push.

Aemond, like the first birth refused to leave her side. Insistent on staying even as her grip threatened to break his hand.

“Aemma” he said in encouragement, “ñuha jorrāelagon, kostā gaomagon bisa... jelevre”.

my love, you can do this...breath.

“I can’t…Aemond please…mazverdagon ziry keligon” she begged.

Make it stop.

Rhaenyra burst in the room, tired of waiting “dōna riña” she sighed, looking over to the midwives in concern as they stood to the side talking with the maester. “I am here, my sweet…I am here”.

The maester approached them, pulling Aemond the side.

Aemma looked to her mother in fear…”no…no”

“Aemma,” Aemond said, moving back to her side “the babe…is breach” he said, and Rhaenyra saw she saw a tear leave her brother’s eye.

“Breach? no…no” she muttered.

An image of a dagger.

Of blood-soaked sheets.

A head of silver hair rolling across the floor.

She moved from her position on her bag, swiping away the hands of Aemond and her mother.

“I must stand” she muttered, holding her back as she moved away from everyone leaning against a chair as she felt the need top push once more.

“Please…tala” her mother begged, walking towards her “they can turn the babe- “

“No…no they are wrong! I can do this! I can do this” she begged to no one but herself.

“Aemma you will only hurt yourself…please” Aemond begged.

“Will you cut me?”

“Never!” he shook his head, “I would never do that, my love. Never!” he insisted as he and a midwife slowly approached her.

“We can turn the babe” the midwife insisted, and before she could utter another word, she was dragged towards the bed, eld down as the maester forced the babe to turn.

She cried out, crying in pain as the few minutes it took felt like hours.

And before she knew it, she was pushing once more and then she heard a cry.

A cry that was not her own, but her babes.

A girl.

She smiled reaching for the babe, before she was taken out of her sight, and Aemma found she was pushing once more.

Another babe.

“Twins!” The maester said in delight, as her second son was placed in her arms.

Aemond laughed in joy, before looking down and seeing the blood dripping from Aemmas thighs.

He felt like crying as he was pushed aside, his babes taken as he watched the maester work.

As he watched Aemmas eyes flutter closed.

“No…no” he muttered, going towards her only for Rhaenrya to grip him.

“don’t” she said, tears filling her own eyes “she will be fine” she said to reassure themselves “she will be fine”.

The night was long and hard, with the birth of twins.

A boy and a girl. Named Aelora and Aelor.

Ot took her three days to recover, her form weak and still as healed.

Her mother had stayed with her, day and night.

And for once in his life, he had felt a closeness with his half-sister.

A mutual understanding.

Though it would all be lost when a family dinner was called a week later.

Authors note: dont ask me why all their names are so similar it was a good idea at the time and i can't think of any other names.

taglist

@melllinaa @zillahvathek @ateliefloresdaprimavera @bellaisasleep @aleemendoza2425-blog @bunbunblogsblog @theanxietyqueen17 @leavesmealobe @ka1afbr @winchesterfamiliebusiness @gghoulzz @dark-night-sky-99 @violet-potter @iamthehybrid @duckworthbean @winter-soldier-101 @apollonshootafar @deeeeexx @zzz000eee @meowtastick @flrboyd @cynic-spirit @wondergal2001 @aelora-a @amanda08319 @may-machin @sarahkimtae @yentroucnagol @loserwithnofriends @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @urmomsbananabread @azaleapotterblack @delaynew @adira033 @babyzzlove @tesha-i-guess @aemondwhoresworld @zimzala01 @aegonswife @littlebirdgot @justbelljust @eddieslut69 @beebeechaos @rosedurin @berightback1409 @barnes70stark @perla434 @nessjo @helo1281917 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @Youknownothingjohnwatson @marsmallow433

to be added to taglist

[meetinginsamarra]

Fanfics I Really Liked in October 2024

So. Since I keep a list of what I´ve read anyway (there´s always a list), I will rec all the fics I´ve wholly enjoyed on a monthly basis. Old and new, canon or AU, big or small authors, long or short but nearly always Johnlock (-ish).

++++

When Harry Met Mary by Calais_Reno  @calaisreno

What if Harry Watson had met Mary Morstan? What would they have thought of each other? A retelling of the events of Series 3 and 4, through the eyes of Harry Watson.

A very clever and very likeable Harry Watson does her part to help Sherlock. Such an intriguing change of POV.

You by my side by 221Beloved @221beloved

This year's Flufftober prompts from tumblr, one chapter for each. Not necessarily consistent, but all kind of one story.

Delicious fluffy fingerfood!

Gilly's by Peanitbear @peanitbear

John goes to a bar the night before he ships out. Sherlock goes to a bar to have one night as a "regular" person before becoming a trouphy husband. Guess who meet each other?

Bittersweet different first meeting and a happy end. Lovely!

Scars Don't Lie by CumberCurlyGirl  @cumbercurlygirl

After Sherlock’s return from the dead, John, still scarred and mistrustful, puts an emotional distance between them. He grudgingly returns to Baker Street but refuses to reassume his old role as Sherlock's partner and blogger. When Molly has a family emergency and can’t help Sherlock with what seems an exciting Russian espionage case, John, despite his lingering anger, volunteers to take her place. The prospect of going undercover as husbands to a couples retreat is just too enticing to refuse.

Summary says it all. Go read!

Scheherazade of the Thrift Shop by standbygo @blogstandbygo

Sherlock, cut off by Scotland Yard and desperate for something to do, decides to try deducing in a thrift shop. There he meets John Watson, back from the war and in a difficult situation. As John tries to recover his possessions from the shop, they begin a strange friendship built on storytelling.

Such a cool idea for a different first meeting!

Written in Ashes by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) @88thparallel

Sherlock becomes the prime suspect in a homicide case, and recently unearthed memories of his childhood are complicating matters. It's up to John to track down answers — can he help Sherlock before it's too late?

Very suspenseful case concerning Sherlock's memory issues after TFP, lots of hurt/comfort and a smart John. Happy end, of course!

[whencyclopedia]

Trade in the Byzantine Empire

Trade and commerce were essential components of the success and expansion of the Byzantine Empire. Trade was carried out by ship over vast distances, although for safety, most sailing vessels were restricted to the better weather conditions between April and October. On land, the old Roman road system was put to good use, and so by these two means goods travelled from one end of the empire to the other, as well as from far-away places such as modern-day Afghanistan, Russia, and Ethiopia. The bigger cities had thriving cosmopolitan markets, and Constantinople became one of the largest trading hubs in the world where shoppers could stroll down covered streets and pick up anything from Bulgarian linen to Arabian perfumes.

Attitudes to Trade

The attitude to trade and commerce in the Byzantine Empire had changed very little since antiquity and the days of ancient Greece and Rome: the activity was not regarded highly and considered a little undignified for the general landed aristocrat to pursue. For example, emperor Theophilos (r. 829-842 CE) famously burned an entire ship and its cargo when he found out that his wife Theodora had been dabbling in commerce and had financial connections with the vessel. This attitude may explain why Byzantine chroniclers often avoid the subject entirely. Indeed, in Byzantine art and literature, traders, merchants, bankers and money-lenders who had tried to cheat their clients were often portrayed as inhabiting the lower levels of Hell.

There was also a general mistrust of traders and entrepreneurs (who could be both men and women) by both the general populace and the authorities. Emperors, therefore, were often particular in enforcing such matters as the standardisation of weights and measures, and, of course, prices. Heavy goods were scrupulously weighed using steelyards and weights in the form of a bust of either the emperor or the goddess Minerva/Athena. Smaller goods such as spices were measured out using a balance with weights made of copper-alloy or glass. To minimise cheating, weights were inscribed with their representative weight or equivalent value in gold coinage and regularly checked.

Continue reading...

[kookygranger]

Fairytale of Hawkins: Valentine's Special

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: The lovebirds return. Robin comes to the conclusion that you and Eddie are in fact perfect for each other when you denounce Valentine's Day and all things Hallmark romance perfect. Eddie softens your edges.

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, allusions to sex, swearing, reader and Eddie are in their late 20s/early 30s, fluff baby fluff

Word count: 2.6k

Author's note: A little look into the burgeoning relationship of towtruck!Eddie and you, a cynical city girl, post-Christmas romance.

Masterlist

Valentine's Day

“Fucks sake.”

Your colleague laughs as you swat away the paper hearts hanging in the doorway of the office lunchroom. “Why do I have to be assaulted every time I get coffee? I’m about three seconds away from tearing this shit down.”

“Yikes, somebody’s not feeling the love today.” Joel smirks over his mug, legs crossed at the lunch table and highly amused by your mood.

“I’m not feeling the love every day. Don’t see why there needs to be a stupid holiday to remind me.” You grumble as you reach for the pot of black coffee, filling your Bikini Kill mug almost to the brim.

“Trouble with the boyfriend? I thought it was going well.”

“He’s not my–“ You sigh. Joel was a work friend. One that shared stock in the workplace trauma and loved to gossip over a Manhattan at Friday drinks. And yeah you knew a lot about each other’s personal lives, but you always struggled with bringing down your professional walls and knowing when it was okay to share; to stop compartmentalising your life so much. Inherently mistrusting, even when it was unnecessary.

“It is–I just. I can still hate the holiday even when I’m…”

“In love?”

You make a face and walk back to your desk, Joel cackling behind you. He leans on your unstable cubicle wall as you sit back at your desk.

“So, prince charming not send you anything?”

“Of course not. He probably thinks it’s just as stupid as I do.”

“You didn’t talk about? Make any date plans?”

You shrug, “There’s no point in him coming all the way up here just for that. We’re both busy.”

Joel purses his lips and hums. You give him a sharp side eye and he backs off, hand up in surrender as he walks away. You roll your eyes when he walks past another cubicle and you hear the sass in his voice, “Beautiful roses Sarah! Somebody isn’t afraid to express their love.”

You let out a sharp exhale, rolling your neck to try ease the tension.

You hate that you were a little upset that he didn’t call to tell you he was thinking of you. You hate that this made-up day could make you feel like that when you had talked to him just yesterday, and your relationship was doing just fine thank you very much. Eddie called to tell you he was thinking about you all the time. Eddie sent flowers when he knew you’d had a rough day. Eddie sent you love letters full of poetry and blush-inducing accounts of what his mind wandered to all day when he was driving around town in his tow truck.

So why did it still sting when none of these things happened on the day that they happened to everyone else.

You should be secure in the knowledge that Eddie Munson didn’t need a commercialised day to show his affection towards you, like many other men in this world. Janet from accounts may have been cuddling her “lovebug” plush toy all day with a faraway look on her face but you knew for certain that she’d be grumbling at her husband Greg come tomorrow night when she was left to do the dishes after also cooking his dinner, despite working just as many hours as him.

But still –

Valentine’s Day sucks.

And you hate that the boy you are… incredibly fond of isn’t standing in front of you nodding his head in agreement as you dish out the Chinese takeout for dinner. Waiting with open arms and magic fingers to relieve the tension in your shoulders as you step through the door of your apartment.

You know you don’t have any right to think these things really. You and Eddie had only been dating since Christmas.

Maybe dating was a loose term, but you had been on dates. You were almost inseparable the week between Christmas and New Year's before you had to head home and back to the office and had been calling each other regularly since. Eddie had taken a trip to see you a few times (three, almost four due to bad weather) and you went on dates.

Good dates. Great dates. Dates that always ended with you wrapped in each other’s arms under your bed sheets. And god, you loved every moment spent with him.

Every full-bellied laugh you’d get out of each other, every glance as you walked side-by-side and soft kiss you shared in between conversations. He was always on your mind. Maybe you were even teaming on the edge of infatuation, and maybe this had a little something to do with your foul mood. The pressure of deep-seated denial of your feelings teetering from innocent to something, compounding in your head. Boy, was that headache really digging its heels in.

Robin’s chuckle cuts through the static over the line as she listens to you grumble.

“Wow, you really are the perfect girl for Eddie Munson.”

You stumble, “You think– wait what do you mean by that? Are you coming over to hear me grouch face-to-face or what? I got the strawberry cheesecake Ben & Jerry’s.”

“Actually,” you can picture her face scrunching up as she elongates the confession, “I kinda have a date.”

You squeal, “Excuse me?! Buckley you’ve been holding out on me! Why’d you let me ramble on about my misery when you have a hot date?”

“Because you hate Valentine’s Day.”

“Well yeah, but I love you. I wanna hear all about your cavity-inducing V-Day plans.”

Robin sighs a long-suffering exhale.

You decide to take your bad mood straight to bed and skip calling Eddie. It wasn’t his fault, and you certainly didn’t want to call just to vent and drag him down. You were tired. You missed him. You were worried that might be too much for you to admit over the phone.

***

Valentine’s Day had set the mood for the rest of the week; by Friday you were done. You were dragging your body up the stairs to your apartment, thinking that maybe it was time for you to go to Eddie. Go back to Hawkins if they’d have you. You couldn’t shake this missing him thing, and the fact that you hadn’t heard his voice in days wasn’t helping.

The past couple of nights your calls had gone unanswered. You weren’t worried, just sad. And you were finally coming around to the fact that it could only be fixed by one boy. God, maybe you had more in common with Janet from accounts than you thought. Both of your moods were heavily influenced by men.

When the fuck did this happen?

Your inner pity party clouds your awareness, taking no note of the sounds or smells coming from your kitchen as you push your heavy front door and kick off your uncomfortable business casual shoes as soon as you’re past the threshold.

It’s the loud clatter of a pan and hissed fuck that has you jumping out of your skin.

“Eddie?”

His head whips around, grin spreading across his face as he spots you by the door. A tea towel over his t-shirt clad shoulder and hands busy stirring things over your stove. Things that smell good.

“Hi.”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

His eyebrows raise, lips forming that stupid smirk that has you virtually already on your knees.

“I’m gonna take that as a good what the fuck and not a get the hell out what the fuck.”

You jog the last few steps and crash into him, arms wrapping around his neck. He takes some of your weight as you melt into him.

“Of course it’s a good what the fuck.” You mumble into his chest, feeling his chuckles under your cheek. When you pull back he cups your face and greets you with a deep kiss. “Do I wanna know how you got into my apartment?”

His laugh hits your face in a warm breath. “Robin lent me her key.” He goes in for another peck before he starts rubbing your cheek soothingly with his thumb, taking in your tired face.

“Pretty sure you’re safe from amateur thieving hands with those two deadbolts, sweetheart.”

“Don’t mock Munson, I’m a girl living alone in the city.”

He nods, “You’re right. Maybe I’ll install a chain too. Gotta keep my girl safe.” He places another quick peck on your lips before turning back around to mind the boiling pots of water and simmering sauces.

Goosebumps. Literal goosebumps at the thought of this man calling you his.

“What is all this anyway?”

He scratches his face, still turned away from you when he gestures to the vase full of wildflowers that you’re only just noticing, and the pink box stamped with the logo of your favourite local bakery sitting on your kitchen table.

“Robin told me you hated Valentine’s Day, which I totally agree with by the way, commercialised bullshit – but uh, I thought we could have like a not-Valentine’s Day dinner, and it gave me a good excuse to break into your apartment and see you so…”

You bite your lip, containing the grin threatening to break out on your face even though he’s still not looking at you. You wrap your arms around his middle, leaning your chin on his shoulder as he continues to work.

“So uh, how long on dinner?”

He keeps stirring, “Maybe 20 minutes. You hungry sweet girl?”

“Famished.” Your lips start to trace a line up his neck, doing that thing with his earlobe that makes him blush furiously.

“Oh. Wait, wait, wait–let me just,” he quickly turns off one of the burners and puts a lid on two of the pots, “Okay.” He spins around, beaming at you when you keen into his touch, warm hands cupping your face. “Hi.”

You return a lip biting hi before you practically pounce on each other. All the stress and inner turmoil from the week leave your body as he walks you backwards to your bed on the other side of your studio apartment.

You spend the next 23 minutes getting reacquainted under the large frosted glass windows that frame your bed, lips parting only for short gasps of air, before Eddie hops up, almost tripping in his attempt to put his underwear back on and jogging the short distance to check on dinner. You giggle at him, and you see the flushed pink return to his cheeks as he winks at you over his shoulder.

Dinner is amazing. Apparently, Steve taught Eddie the basics of cooking when they moved in together (Eddie taught Steve all about tater tots and oven food) and he experiments further when he’s got spare time, especially if he’s cooking for someone that he loves…like Dustin or Wayne.

The night ends much the same as it started after you gorge on the pastries from the bakery, which coincidentally all happen to be your favourites.

Eddie’s chocolate brown eyes are far away as he traces patterns along your jaw and bare shoulders.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask softly.

He exhales slowly through his nose, “Just thinking about how much I miss you.”

You smile at him, his eyes dart to your lips, “I’m right here.”

His eyebrows twitch in that frown you’ve learnt to adore. “I know, it’s just–“ he leans in, forehead touching yours, “I think…” you feel his frown deepen against your skin as he pauses.

“Eddie, are you okay?”

“Yeah…and no.” He leans back, head hitting the pillow beside you, his hand coming up to rub his forehead as his eyes scrunch tightly. You let him take another deep breath. You let him take the time to find the courage to spill out his next words. “I’m in love with you.” The hand that was tracing soothing circles in his bicep stops as his head rolls to look at you. “Like, I never really knew what real love felt like until we started doing whatever this is,” he gestures to your bodies curled up under your sheets, “kind of love.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” His face scrunches up again. “And I know, that’s a fucking lot when it’s only been what, a couple of months? And we don’t live in the same city and this is supposed to be fun and casual and you’re a cool city girl with your own life and friends and I drive a tow truck in a small town that thinks rock music is the devil’s music. And trust me,” he shakes his head, hand braced on his chest, “I tried not to. But you make it really fucking hard with your pretty face, and the fact that you look hot as hell in your little corporate outfits but also in my gross Slayer t-shirt, and the whole saying anything that comes to mind sassy without even trying to be thing, and the great taste in music, and the fact that you try to watch all my favourite horror movies even though they give you nightmares and you’re scared that your sleep paralysis demon or whatever you call it is gonna pay you a visit – which by the way is fucked – you know, you don’t make it easy sweetheart.”

He sounds kind of angry. The way his chest heaves after his admission and his brows stay perpetually creased would make anyone who didn’t know him concerned. But you know Eddie Munson.

“I’m in love with you too.”

“What?” His head snaps so quickly you're concerned he might’ve pulled a muscle.

“I didn’t think we were purposefully keeping things casual, I just thought ‘cause of the distance that’s what worked but…I’ve missed you a lot lately and I kind of came to the realisation this week it’s because I’ve fallen for you. Hard, by the way. You know I was gonna call the airline and sus flights to Indy after work. It’s not fair for you to keep having to drive all the way up here. Especially since you end up spending more time on the road than you do here with me.”

He's still frowning, but his eyes are as soft as a puppy’s as your confession sinks in. “Sooo…what do we do now?”

You shrug, moving closer to him as his arm snakes around your back, his hand rubbing soothingly up and down your spine. “I don’t know. But, I do think that I can swing a lot more weekends in Hawkins. Like, at least half the month.”

He beams then, frown lines smooth as his smile, “Really?”

“Yeah. Would that be okay?”

“I think I can handle it.” He places a soft kiss on your lips.

“What about Steve?”

“Fuck Steve.” Another kiss. “Wait, what do you mean?”

You laugh, “I mean, would he be okay with me staying over?”

“Of course he would. If not, I’ll kick his ass.” He shrugs.

“You think you can fight Steve?”

“Ah sweetheart, Steve has never won a fight in his goddamn life. Plus, I got street smarts. All he’s good for is swinging around that damn nail bat.”

“The what?”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, smirking before distracting you with another kiss. “You love me, huh?”

You puff your cheeks up and exhale, “Apparently so.”

“You love me.” You giggle as he teases you with sweet kisses along your jaw.

“Don’t get too cocky Munson. You’ve got it bad too. You bought me flowers within the window of Valentine’s Day.”

You feel his smile against your jaw. “Yeah, I’ve got it bad. Real bad, sweet girl.”

Tagging: @storiesbyrhi hi x. And @eddieslooneymoonie, @micheledawn1975, @skrzydlak just in case.

[mamawasatesttube]

on the note of yj in owaw im also thinking about this bit of tim narration from yj98 #36...

tim is feeling betrayed and frustrated (understandably), but what stands out to me is how he thinks of "that whole guardian fiasco". in the earlier yj owaw tie-in, he and the others express disapproval of kon for "stealing government property":

they let it go at the end to move on, but...

but like, the baby in question is a cadmus clone (just like superboy himself), cloned from a man who expressly wished that he not be cloned and forced back into the fight after his death.

as an aside, clone baby guardian arc is possibly the BEST in sb94 - it's about bodily autonomy and the humanity and personhood of clones, and the dignity that should be afforded to all people vs the way waller & spence etc want to treat them as property and disposable, reusable weapons.

so i think overall tim and the rest of yj talking about that situation like this... well, those plot threads overall got dropped in the general aftermath of owaw, but it feels like a real missing scene to me. because realistically, given everything kon stands for and everything he went through for baby guardian's sake, to give him the right to choose, i think tim and the others all talking about it like "it's the government so they must be right" would not sit well with kon. (and frankly, would be a pretty solid in-universe reason for kon to further mistrust their orders re: rescuing the suicide squad members, leading up to him disobeying and trying to save steel.)

owaw is arguably the most serious conflict anyone in yj has been involved in up to this point (kon and bart were both present for genesis, but genesis wasn't... Like This, imo. kon was also involved at the destruction of coast city, but this is kind of a tangent.) my point is, up until this point, they are all kinda operating under the assumption that the government is generally on the side of the good guys. this is partly bc of how comics are written, of course, but also makes sense as an in-universe stance for most young heroes to take; tim in particular is definitely a lawful good, and at this point he doesn't understand that his personal rules don't always 100% line up with what the greater authority of The Government dictates.

kon is a contrast to this, because kon does not have the whole "grew up with a family as a part of normal society" backstory like tim and cassie do. kon's involvement with cadmus, a government-funded organization, generally is written such that cadmus are good, except that the closer we get to owaw, the more questionable their intent seems. we see the agenda and their push for eugenics. we see guardian being treated as a tool and not a person. we see waller taking over.

anyways, all of this is kind of to say - i think it's a real shame we don't actually see a big conversation between tim and kon in the aftermath of this. i want to SEE tim get that first real big crack in his worldview that makes him start to think that huh. maybe if lying to small time authority figures for the sake of doing good, like me lying to my dad about being robin, is justified... then maybe directly disobeying the law in the name of doing good is also justified. like, i want kon to look him in the eye and ask "do you think i'm government property, too, then, jackass?" and i want tim to have to really sit back and think on it. i wanna see that character development.

because like - it is a flawed viewpoint, that tim and the rest of yj were written to treat kon trying to free a baby like this. but it's also not an unrealistic one when they're all teenagers who haven't really necessarily had to face moral quandaries of "what's right vs what's lawful" with such high stakes before. i wish this plot had actually gone more places with everyone.

[justmeinadaze]

Children of the Night Part 9 (Steddie X You)

Warnings: Daddy Vampire Eddie/Switch Vampire Stevie and Sub Human/Vamp Fem Reader, SMUT, dp, dirty talk, light spanking, light choking, blood drinking (obviously), slight roughness but more passionate, FLUFF, these three weirdos love each other so much <3.

ANGST, ANGST, ANGST!!

Domestic abuse and Child abuse triggers (we learn everything about the reader here including the abuse she's gone through including gaslighting and physical abuse) It's briefly touched on how the police didn't help her. Personally I felt like this added to her mistrust of authority like that mixed in with how law enforcement handled everything that happened with Eddie in Hawkins.

S4 things are touched on including Chrissy and what happened with Lucas, Erica, and Gareth. Brief conversations with readers mom, Wayne, and Mr. Harrington (the latter being an asshole of course). I think that's everything. The main thing I wanted to focus on was the abuse triggers. I know that can be triggering especially since some of the dialogue with the mother is lifted from things my own abusive parent said to me.

Love you guys! Enjoy this final piece.

Series here/ Buy Me a Coffee :)

Word Count: 7400

StokersGirl86: “Oh my god. I’m so excited. What do you think they are going to do?!”

Dannyalwayshere1: “I imagine it’s going to big after everything going on in the news right now.”

Minaismygirl: “Eddie better release Y/N so she can come find me. I can take care of her!”

StokersGirl86: “Oh please. You really think she’s innocent in all this?!”

StokersGirl86: “She was a fan just like us. No matter what her criminal mom preaches on tv.”

LivingDeadBoy24: “Like mother like daughter :P.”

Living DeadBoy24: “Maybe Eddie will sacrifice her the same way he did Chrissy Cunningham. I’ve been reading about what happened. It’s amazing.”

Justice4ChrissyCunningham: “You all should be ashamed of yourselves! An innocent girl was murdered and another may be kidnapped! They don’t need to be put up on a pedestal. They need to be behind bars!”

Dannyalwayshere1: “I see you think Steve Harrington is guilty to?”

CaliforniaPD: “This is the California police department and currently we seem to be having trouble disconnecting this stream. That being the case, we do highly recommend that everyone log off this site and do not engage.”

VampQueen91: “Yeah sure. Nice try whoever you are. I thought the police already had their location. Yet they can stream??”

Minaismygirl: “Because California PD sucks lol But who knows, maybe they just need them to stream to catch them…”

The video feed begins counting down and as soon as it ends three faces illuminate everyone’s screens. Both men were shirtless with hair frayed every which way as their black eyes starred into the camera with a small smirk painted on both their lips. 

“Hm. I see everyone’s here and already has opinions.”, you growl as you quickly take in everyone’s words that flew across the screen. “We wanted to come on today to set the record straight about a few things. First and foremost, Edward Munson and Steven Harrington are dead. YOU killed them when you placed blame for something they didn’t do.”

Justice4ChrissyCunningham: Edward Munson murdered Chrissy in his trailer in cold blood. 

“Oh, sweetheart. I can’t imagine how much you must be hurting, Andrew. You lost three friends in the span of a week to such odd circumstances. Of course, it would just be easier to blame Eddie. It’s the only thing that would make since right? Not that some other man come in and hurt her.”

Justice4ChrissyCunningham: I don’t know who you think I am but—

His picture suddenly flew up onto the screen for everyone to see. 

“Normally I’m not one to display people’s personal business this way but after everything I’ve read and the things they told me, you can go fuck yourself. I see here while Eddie was missing you and Jason Carver assaulted a young man named Gareth in his garage. Police report says you and your friends jumped them while playing hero; broke the young man’s nose.”

The long-haired vampire growled deep from his chest at the accusation. 

“It also looks like in March of 03, you tackled a middle schooler and threatened to break her arm if she didn’t tell you guys where Eddie was. That seems to be the same night Mr. Carver also beat up a young man while he was trying to protect his girlfriend. Hm. How odd that you were there for the last few deaths.”, you muse as you glance towards Steve who continues to glare forward.

“The night Steve went missing his blood was found mixed with two other jocks about your age. Friends, Andy? He tells me they were there to hurt him because he missed the man he loved. Kind of seems like violence is normal for athletes in Hawkins. Maybe that’s why Chrissy felt more comfortable with Eddie. I can’t imagine how angry that made Jason feel. Maybe angry enough…to kill?”

The count of people in the stream both drastically dropped including Andy and then suddenly increased with a new flux of people. 

California PD: “Miss Y/L/N if you are in danger we can help you. 

“I don’t need your help. I’m not a hostage with these men. If anything, I was a hostage growing up with the mother that you all so quickly rallied behind including you, Officer Williams. I spent my whole life dealing with people like you. Willing to believe any narrative that fit your agenda. I have been beaten and abused by almost everyone in my life but these men have done nothing but love and protect me! And you want to punish them for that?”

California PD: “Last chance Y/N. Tell us where you are and we can save you.”

“I told you… I’m safe right here…with Renfield and Dracula. My name… is Mina.”

With that both vampires bared their fangs and bit into either side of your neck.

##############

2 Weeks Before

Eddie didn’t say a word as he got up and angrily stomped back towards the bedroom. 

“Baby, please.”, you pleaded as you watched him pull out the suitcases from their closet and throw them on the bed. “We had to have this conversation at some point—”

“No, we don’t. The answer will always be the same. No. Fuck no. Hell no. Take your pick.”

“Why?”

“Because I fucking said so. Now, start packing your shit because we are leaving in 30.”

“No.” The vampire paused as he slowly turned to face you. “No, fuck no, hell no. Take your fucking pick.”

Stalking towards you, he stopped till his nose was hovering just above your own.

“Get you shit and get ready to leave.”, he rumbled.

“You sound like John right now. You don’t command me, Edward.”

“Yes, sweetheart, I do. That’s what you agreed to, remember? You and Steve are mine—”

“In bed.”, Steve interrupted, coming around the corner. “In bed we belong to you. She’s still her own woman and is allowed to make her peace. Let’s hear what she has to say.”

“Steven, you and I didn’t have a choice. She does—”

“So you’re going to make it for her?” The long-haired vampire’s jaw clenches as he places his hands on his hips. “You’re right, I didn’t have a choice which is why we never had to have the conversation she wants to have but I always thought about it. If I was still human, you would have remained the same and I would have grown old. We would have lost each other again…”

Eddie’s glassy eyes glance his way as he sighs and takes a seat on the bed.

“After the last time she left and we didn’t have her…I’d rather not experience that now or even 50 years from now.”

“I guess we know what your vote is.”, he sasses. 

“I think we can do this in a controlled way so what happened to us doesn’t happen to her especially since we would be doing it without her being hurt or wounded.”

“Fuck. O-Ok but I do it and we can change her after we get where we are going—”

“There’s no rush. I genuinely don’t believe they know where you are and are banking on us streaming again but we can find out. I can find out which guys are working the case and go through the digital file. I didn’t do it before because I didn’t want to put us at risk if I didn’t have to.”, you respond as you sit beside him. “I…I also think we should stream you changing me—”

“That’s a fuck no and I’m not budging on that. I don’t care what you both tell me.”

“I actually agree with him on that one, honey.”

“No, no. I mean we should do this together privately but make our fans and police believe you’re changing me. It will keep them invested to keep the revenue coming no matter where we go and show the police that we aren’t afraid of them. We now know that we can suck each other’s blood so…”

As Eddie sighs again, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss his cheek. 

“I love you, Eddie. I trust you and I know I’m safe with you; both of you.”

Turning to face you, he kisses your forehead and holds you to him. 

“Do what you have to do, babe, and we’ll start getting things together.”

***

While the guys packed and ran out to grab some extra blood packs, you did some research into the people hunting for you three. You were right that they hadn’t found you yet but they were getting closer. One of the officers grabbed one of Dustin’s pings he created and traced it to the next town over. 

“Hey pretty girl.”, Steve cooed as he slumped down onto his knees beside you. “What did you find out?”

“We’re still ok. They haven’t found us yet and from what I see here they most likely need us to stream again. Now this is a new development.”

Moving the mouse, you click on the news website in the background and play the clip you stumbled on earlier that day. 

“So you say, Mrs. Y/L/N, you saw Y/N with Mr. Harrington and Mr. Munson?”

“Yes! Oh my goodness.”, your mother sobbed. “She came to visit me in the hospital because I was sick. She was always such a sweet girl. They threatened my life and then dragged her away. They are awful people.”

Feeling your anger, Eddie swished into the room as the other vampire petted your head. 

“If you could say anything to your daughter, what would it be?”

“You monsters let my baby go! I love you, Y/N! So…so much…I can’t…”

“That’s not all I found.”, you whisper, clicking another link and pressing play. 

“Mr. Munson! Mr. Munson! How do feel about the content your nephew is posting? Do you think he’ll kill Y/N like he did Chrissy?”

“Get off my property! My nephew…my nephew is dead. Haven’t you and this town sullied his memory enough!”

“Police seem to have strong evidence that this is Edward Munson.”

“Well, if he is alive…I hope he stays away. He can be happier with Steven away from these fuckers!” Eddie’s uncle pauses before entering the house the reporters were following him to. “I also want him to know that I love and miss him. I hope your happy, son.”

Steve grabs his partner’s hand as his stoic features faulter and tears begin to slowly fall that he quickly wipes away. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Harrington! Anything to say about your son?!”

“We’ve made a statement already! Go away!”

The vampire’s eyes narrow at the sound of his dad’s voice. 

“You really don’t think that’s your son in the videos?”

“I know for a fact that’s not my son. No son of mine would engage in that behavior nor be in a relationship with a freak like Edward *beep* Munson. Now leave us be so we can grieve our son in peace!”

“I’m sorry.”

“No reason to be, honey.”, he sighs shaking away the frustration. “We, um, got some more blood and we got you some more clothes. We found a house up north; I just need to—”

Eddie’s lips cut his boyfriend off as he cupped his face in his hands and pulled his body closer to his own. When he finally pulled away both boys were panting heavily. 

“I love you, Steve Harrington.”

The pretty vampire smiled softly as his fingers lightly moved some of the other man’s hair out of his face. 

“I love you to, Eddie Munson.” His mouth gently kissed him again as he began to sing making the metalhead breathily chuckle. “I’d give up forever to touch you. Cause I know that you feel me somehow.”

“You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be and I don’t want to go home right now.”, he sings back. “We don’t have a song for Y/N.”

“Oh, I don’t need one. It’s ok.”

“No, no, baby. Let’s see what we got.”, Steve smiles as he pushes the button on the stereo and starts searching through stations. He and Eddie cringe as a few come through that aren’t suitable in anyway making you laugh. 

“Hey, wait. Go back.” After the vampire does what he asks, you three listen as the long-haired boy grins and bobs his head.

“And I wonder When I sing along with you

If everything could ever be this real forever If anything could ever be this good again The only thing I'll ever ask of you You've got to promise not to stop when I say when She sang…”

Taking ahold of your hand, Eddie spins you as you both smile and he sings along.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard this one before.”, Steve muses as he watches you two dance. 

After letting you go, you grab a hold of his waist and he circles his arms around you as you sing.

“Breathe out So I can breathe you in Hold you in And now I know you've always been…”

Smiling, his lips kiss your forehead as you press your head into his chest. 

“I love you both so much.”

“We love you to, sweetheart.”, Eddie replies as he comes behind you and holds you both tightly.

***

“What if I kill you.”

“You won’t, baby. I trust you.”, you try to comfort as you cup his cheek. 

Nodding, he tilted towards you, placing soft tender kisses on your lips and along your cheek to your neck. When you feel him hesitate, you run your fingers through his hair and whisper adoration for him as you wait. 

When his fangs bit into you, you were surprised how fast you blood left your body. Steve’s worried eyes watched as the color left your face and the sight killed him. Your eyes rolled shut and a tear left his eye as the memory of finding Eddie in the upside down flashed through his mind. 

The vampire wanted to calm him but he couldn’t. 

He had to focus on you. 

After releasing his hold on you, he hurriedly wiped your blood from his chin and bit into his wrist offering it to you.

“Come on, baby girl. Come on. We need you to drink.” Just as Steve’s had, your eyes snapped open as the sweet taste hit your lips and you began to drink from him. “Fuck…good girl, princess. Mmph…There you go.”

Abruptly, you detached from his arm and passed out against the pillow as Eddie began to dizzily fall back. 

“Whoa, honey. I got you. Are you ok?”

“B-Blood, Steve. I need… please.”

He didn’t waste any time, running to the kitchen and back as he tore the bag open for his partner to take. 

“What happens now?”

“Now, we wait.”

Neither man left your side as they kept a diligent eye on you. Eddie held your hand while Steve kept his palm on your chest to make sure you were still breathing.

“It’s weird…I can’t feel her anymore.”

“When she wakes up you will and it will be more in tune. When you woke up that feeling was incredibly strong.”

Hearing the sadness in his voice, Steve reaches over runs his fingers along his face. 

“What are you thinking about, baby?”

“Everything.” Eddie glances his way and his boyfriend’s loving gaze fills him with warmth. “I never thought about the future. I guess because I was stuck like this…it didn’t even occur to me that you two would age and I wouldn’t. When would you have asked me?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t even know how to bring it up. All I really wanted was for us to have what we always talked about. A happy, simple life away from all the bullshit in Hawkins.” Steve grins when his partner chuckles. “A nice two-bedroom home where we could settle down and have a family. Three boys and three girls you and I would spoil rotten. I would work some office job with so-so benefits and brag about my rockstar husband who was on tour but coming home soon.”

Eddie couldn’t hold it in anymore as the last couple days events hit him and he began to cry. 

“I know, honey. I know”, he cooed as he held his free hand. 

#############

The sound of something crashing to the ground startles both vampires as they sit up and jump out of bed realizing you were no longer between them. They could feel you though; fuck could they feel you.

“Jesus, Eddie…”, Steve groaned as his head lulled to the side.

“I-I know. Stay focused. We need t-to get our girl back first.”

“I don’t know if I can.”, the vampire whined as his palm began absently grazing the bulge in his pants. 

“You will because I told you to, little boy. Do you understand?”, Eddie hissed. 

“Y-Yes, Daddy.”

Slowly moving down the hall, they searched every nook and cranny before something loud in the kitchen caught their attention. They found you on the floor balancing on your heels in your bra and shorts they had laid you down in. The sound of your growling filled the room as you continued to bang on the refrigerator door with your palm. 

“Y/N.”

Jumping at the sound of Eddie’s voice, you fell on to your butt and pressed your back to the cabinets as your black eyes glared his way. 

“Sweetheart, everything’s ok. You’re alright.”

It took you moment but something in your face softened and your crawled towards him, pushing him back slightly before banging your hand on the door again. 

“Daddy. Hungry.”

“You’re hungry, baby?” Reaching in, he takes out a bag and tears it open, handing it to you. Your wide eyes watch him as if he’s figured out a riddle you had spent thousands of years trying to solve and when he offers you what you want, you take it from him without question and chug it back. “Good. Good girl.”

After three blood packs and a peaceful smile on your face, even Eddie could still feel a hunger within you.

“What do you need, pretty girl? Tell me.”

Steve couldn’t control it any longer as his eyes darkened and his own hunger took over. Grabbing his partner’s shirt, he pushed him to the side as he began to crawl towards you. In your state, you perceived the action as hostile and practically roared as you tackled his chest, pinning him to the floor.

“NO! Bad boy…hurt…Daddy!”

His wrists tried to push against your hands but you were much stronger than before. Eddie couldn’t help but be utterly fascinated as he watched you both interact. 

“Say…SORRY!” When he hesitates, your nose presses to his as you growl in a low voice that makes them both hard. “Now.”

“Sorry…Daddy…Sorry, honey.”

At the term, your eyes blink in surprise as you sit up slightly to gaze along his features. Steve’s own black irises search your face for recognition, finding it in your sudden shift of demeanor.

“Steve…”, you coo as lean down and run your nose up his bare, hairy chest to his neck. “Boy…hungry?” He nods emphatically, literally ripping your shorts from your body after pulling down his pants enough to free his cock. “Ask.”

A small whine leaves him as he turns to face Eddie whose eyes were now also black as he stroked his own length while watching you. 

“Daddy…hungry. Please?”

He growled in response, hastily coming up to take his place behind you and runs his tongue up your spine to your shoulder. You mewl as you lower yourself down onto the man beneath you, gripping his neck to pull him up so you could press his head into your chest. Clinging to your hips, the metalhead guided himself into your ass and your head fell back onto his shoulder as they both roughly thrust into you.

When their fangs pierced your skin, you clenched around them causing them both to grunt and hold you tighter. 

“Steve…Eddie…fuck.”

As your fingers tangled into his hair, you bit down on the pretty boy’s shoulder and his moan reverberated through the house as his body shook while releasing his seed inside you. The metalhead circled around to rub fast circles into your clit and you came off Steve with a heavy pant as he fell back onto the floor.

Taking ahold of his arm pressed to your chest, you brought it to your mouth as you bit into the skin. Eddie’s head flew back as your pussy quivered around him and you came hard. Yanking your hair, he shoved your face next to his boyfriend’s as he chased his high and with a few more aggressive thrusts warmed your insides. 

Heavy breathing filled the room as both boys passed out beside you. 

#################

5-year-old you pulls her knees to her chin as you hid under the kitchen table listening to your parents fight. 

“Fuck you! You want to leave me than fucking leave and take that little brat with you.”

“I can’t! Jesus, you never listen! Marnie, doesn’t want kids right now.”

“Oh, oh. The slut doesn’t want kids so I guess whatever she says goes. I didn’t want kids either yet here we are!”, your mother slurs. 

You listen to the sound of his footsteps as he stomps out the door leaving you behind. Glass shatters as the beer bottle she threw hits the wall before she falls to her knees and sobs. 

12-year-old you cries as the police officer lifts you into his arms and tries to carry you out of the foster home you were physically fighting to stay in. 

“Y/N, come on! You need to go be with your mom.”

“NO! I want to stay here! Please don’t make me go back!” You kick the officer, hitting his stomach causing him to drop you to the floor. As fast as you could you get up and run to the woman you had been calling mom for over 6 months. “Please! I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I promise!”

“Sweetheart, listen to me.”, she empathetically murmurs as she sinks to her knees. “It’s time for you to be with your mom. Who knows maybe things will be different this time.”

“It-It won’t. It never is.”

You and your boyfriend panted as you tried to catch your breath hiding under the pier. 

“Woo, that was close!”, he laughs as 15-year-old you grins up at him. “But hey, now we can eat.”

Tossing the wallet to the side, he takes out the money and reaches for your hand as he guides up the bank towards the stores above. After purchasing a burger and some fries, you both share it as he lights a cigarette and stares off into the distance.

“I love you.”

“I love you to, babe.”, you smile as you bite into a fry. 

When his fingers reach out to touch your face, you can’t help but flinch when his thumb grazes the cut on your lip from when he thought you were giving him attitude. 

“I really do. Things are going to get better, Y/N. I promise.”

She couldn’t even make it three months. The police had brought you back home and as soon as they left your mother went off about you running away and how that made her look. By the third month, you tried to leave again and she stopped you. 

“What happened to your arm, Y/N? You said you fell?”, the doctor asked as he began wrapping the cast around the limb. 

You didn’t move or say a word as you stared off into the void. What was the point? The cops knew how she was yet they kept bringing you back. Even if you told this doctor the truth it wouldn’t matter.

“Sweetheart, I can help you. I just need you to tell me what happened.” The man sighs when you remain silent before whispering under his breath. “You don’t have to say anything just nod your head, ok? Did you fall?”

Your eyes meet his for a brief moment before autopilot takes over and you shake your head. 

“Did your mother do this? Did she grab you?”

You nod.

“Ok.”

You stare at the screen in front of you as two men known as Renfield and Dracula make love to each other before biting his neck. A heavy sigh left you at the action and the human boy’s moan hit straight to your heart down to your core. 

You had been watching them for over a month now and you couldn’t explain it but something about them just pulled you in. Hearing their voices and watching how they took care of each other made you feel safe. It’s part of the reason you kept coming back even though you knew if John ever found out you were seeing this he’d probably kill you. 

That following day you were surprised when a message from the site appeared when you signed in from the creators themselves inviting you to a private session. 

When their faces illuminated your screen, a little sigh left your chest. They were both so handsome up close. Because of the technology, you weren’t able to really see their features before but now you could see them in all their glory. Dracula’s eyes fluttered slightly behind his mane of hair. 

“Hey Mina.”

Renfield glances his way in surprise as his partner spoke. Usually, he was the one that did the bulk of the talking so when he initiated, he was taken a back. 

InnocentLittleMina: Hello.

“Hey, honey. We, um, we just wanted to reach out to you because we see you pop up from time to time. You don’t talk or engage very much.”

InnocentLittleMina: Yeah. A lot of the people here are kind of rude.

“Ha. Yeah they are. We were wondering and we understand if you say no but would you want to work for us? Dracula says a moderator could really help us get some control over these people. You don’t have to tell us your name or anything. We can send money straight to your account.”

InnocentLittleMina: You’d pay me?

“Yeah, honey. Of course.”

“However much you want.”, Dracula adds again making his partner’s head quirk to the side. “You just…seem like a kind person with a good heart.”

InnocentLittleMina: You don’t know me.

“We’d like to.”

His words flow through you almost as if you can feel how genuine they are. What’s the worst that could happen?

InnocentLittleMina: “Ok. I’d love to help.”

***

Both men groan as their eyes open and take in the scene before them. After what they saw, they couldn’t care less. They just needed to find you. 

Rising to their feet, they power walk down the hall to find you closing a suitcase and quietly taking a seat on the bed. Your eyes lock with theirs as you softly smile and shrug. 

“See? I told you I had experienced real monsters.”

“Sweetheart.”, Eddie breathed as he sat beside you and pulled you to his chest. “I’m so fucking sorry you went through all that. We would never ever fucking hurt you like them.”

“Or let anyone hurt you like that.”, Steve added as he knelt in front of you. “How are you feeling?”

“Calm. Clear. It’s weird. I’ve never felt like this before. I feel like I’m…home.”

“Because you are, baby.”, the pretty boy cooed as he kissed your palms. 

“While you two were asleep, I packed up some clothes for us. I’m not sure what else we need.”

“Let me see if that relator guy called.”

After he disappeared, the metalhead cupped your face in his hands as his eyes ran along your face. You still looked like the girl they fell in love with but you seemed to have this air of confidence surrounding you that made him fall even harder. 

“I wish I could have seen your life the way I saw his and you two saw mine. I think it’s because him and I are new…”

“Oh, baby girl, trust me. You don’t want to see that. Not all in succession like that. Everything kind of sucked till I met Steve. Before him it was a blur of heartache and anger.” When he sighed, your palm circled around the back of his neck and brought his forehead down to yours eliciting a small, nervous chuckle to fall from his lips. “Fuck…are you doing that?”

“Doing what?”, you murmur. 

���Y/N, I’m a jaded asshole.”, he laughed. “It takes me a while to trust anyone and feel safe but the feeling running through me right now… God it’s so quiet. I can breathe.”

“Because that’s how I feel with you two, Daddy. You’re feeling me.”

“Fuck, Y/N.”, he groaned, his lips falling to the side of your neck. 

“Wait…Wait, Eddie. I need to show you both something first.”

####################

Present Day

“Ok, Williams, we’re right outside the door. Going in, in two.”

The officer paces around his desk as he glares at the screen watching both men continue to feed while blood drips down your neck. 

“Good. They’re still streaming in front of their computer. Be careful! They shouldn’t be armed but I’m not sure if they’ll react hostilely.”

“Entering in, 3, 2, 1. GO, BOYS!”

As soon as the door kicked in, a little box appears at the corner of your current feed showing the raiding team running through the house. Everything was still in its place including the blood staining the floor by the fridge. 

“We have all eyes on us, guys. Go slow.”

When they find the bedroom, they scream into the void for you three to get down… 

Only to find now one there.

The swat leader walked towards the computer, tearing off the note that was taped to the screen.

“I shall be glad as long as I live that even in that moment of final dissolution, there was in the face a look of peace, such as I never could have imagined might have rested there.

Our souls are knit into one, for all life and all time.

-Mina”

“FUCK!”, Officer Williams shouted as he kicked the chair in front of him. 

CaliforniaPD: You can keep running all you want but you are just making it harder on yourselves! We found you once and we can find you again!”

You whine as your head falls against Steve’s chest and your black eyes flash towards the screen with a small smile. 

“Good luck with that. I’m sorry to say, for you, we’re a lot stronger now than we’ve ever been.”, Eddie rumbled sarcastically towards the camera. 

As you pull away to lean against the metalhead’s shoulder, the other vampire growls low with needs as his head follows yours for a moment before hesitating to focus on the camera. 

“We don’t want any trouble. We just want to be left alone to be happy together but we will gladly do this dance again to keep ourselves protected and keep her safe!”

Your palm ran down his back, calming him as he tilted his head to place open mouth kisses on your shoulder as his own hand absently traveled under your shirt to run along the skin of your stomach. Eddie growled at the action as both vampires glared at each other. Grabbing his throat, the long-haired boy pulled his boyfriend’s lips to his own passionately.

“I think you all have had enough of a show…and I’m…hungry.” At the last word, your tone drops and after you wink towards the camera, you move the mouse, and shut it down.

***

“Did you guys see that? Over one million people were watching us!”, you giggle excitedly.

“Mhmm.”

Both vampires were still distracted as they detached from each other to kiss your neck again. Grinning as you bit your lip, wind messed their hair as you flash ran towards the other side of your new shared bedroom. 

“Oh, come on, boys. Now focus.”

Trying to run after you, you hastily sprinted away, your beautiful laugh filling the new house you three were going to be living in. Eddie was the one to catch you first, practically tackling you to the ground in the living room and pinning your wrists beside your head. 

“Hi, Daddy.”

As you beam up at him, he can’t help but smile down at you before bringing his lips to yours. Your hands flex in his grip but he remains steadfast as he kisses softly down your body and over your blood-stained shirt. 

 Steve crawls towards you both on his hands and knees, falling onto his tummy with his hand grabbing your cheek to turn your head so he could kiss you. Letting you go, your hands remain where they are as Eddie pulls down your panties and tosses them to the side. 

His strong palms dig into your thighs as he lifts your legs over his shoulders and you moan against the other man’s lips as Eddie presses his face into your cunt wasting no time as his mouth devours you. 

Your legs close around him and he mewls into you as your back arches off the floor. 

“Fuck, Daddy! Your mouth feels so good.”

Maneuvering behind him, Steve spreads his partners legs a bit wider and his groans vibrate through your core as the pretty boy runs his tongue between Eddie’s cheeks. You grin blissfully as you watch the sight before you and you run your fingers through the metalhead’s hair. 

“That’s it, honey. Fuck. Make our girl cum. Jesus, Y/N, I can feel how good he’s making you feel. Daddy’s so fucking amazing with that mouth isn’t he? It’s why he never shuts up.”

Eddie’s growls turn into moans when his boyfriend effortlessly slides two fingers inside him while pushing his head harder against your pussy.

“Oh, god!”

Your eyes roll back as you grind your hips against the vampire’s tongue till you tumble over the edge and cum. Releasing him from your grip around his shoulders, you pant as you try to catch your breath, shuddering at the feel of Eddie’s heavy exhales fanning your dripping core. 

You’re not sure if it was the dominance within him or just how sexy both men looked right now but something inside you bubbled forward and you rushed towards them, tackling Steve to the floor. 

“Hungry!”

Abruptly an arm wrapped around your stomach and pushed you back against the hardwood. 

“No.”, the long-haired vampire hissed as his hand clung to your throat. “You ask, little girl. The rules haven’t changed. Not yet anyway.”

“Want…boy!”

“Beg me, Y/N.”, he cooed in a sultry voice that had both you and the other man whining. “Beg Daddy, baby girl.”

“Please, Daddy. Want…” You pause as you blink, trying to clear the fog and intense need from your brain so you could focus. “I want Steve. Please, may I…have him.”

As the black irises disappear and your natural eye color returns so does his as he smiles before giving you a tender kiss. After moving out of the way, he ushers Steve between your legs and helps lift your shirt over your head. 

“I’m sorry if I hurt you. I didn’t mean to grab you like that. I just couldn’t—”

“Control yourself. I know, honey. I understand. You’re doing a lot better than I did though.” He taps his cock against your sensitive clit a couple of times making you jump and you both let out a strangled moan as he slides himself inside of you. “Shit. Always so fucking good.”

Falling on to your chest, he rolls his waist as you cling to his shoulders, leaving little pecks along his skin. When you bite into his flesh, he grunts loudly and snaps his hips hard, punching his length deep inside your heat. 

As he picks up his pace, you release him and he pushes up onto his knees, looping his arms under the back of your own so he can hold your legs open. Feeling someone near him, he opens his eyes to be met with his boyfriend’s cock in his face. Steve opened his mouth willingly and Eddie’s mouth fell open as he bobbed his head, taking him as far back as he could. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. Such a good boy. Jesus, I love watching you two together.”

Threading his fingers through his hair, the metalhead groaned as he fucked his partner’s face making you whine and clench around his own cock every time you heard him gag.

“Mmm—there you go, Steve. Make our pretty girl cum.”

Shoving Eddie’s stomach, Steve growled with need as he pushed him out of his way and wrapped his arms around your back, lifting you up till you were face to face with him. Hugging him to your chest, you used his neck as leverage as you bounced and grinded against him.

When his fangs pierced your skin, your eyes squeezed shut as you did the same, taking him in as his hands grabbed the meat of your ass, guiding your movements till you trembled and came. Steve grunted at the feeling, pushing you back down onto the floor and pounding his cock into you so deeply you swear you could feel him in your stomach, through your heart, and into your soul. 

“Fuck!”, he growled in his deep vampire tone as his movements stalled and you whined as he pumped his spend aggressively into your cunt.

You couldn’t help but breathily giggle as Steve continued to run his lips and tongue along your body. Pushing his chest, you disappeared from underneath him but Eddie anticipated your move, running ahead of you and slamming his palm against the wall as his arm shot out to stop you. Before you could run the other way, he blocked you and pinned your front side to the hallway.

His hand playfully spanked your behind and you both mewled as he guided his cock into your entrance. 

“Oh, fuck, Daddy.”

Intertwining his fingers with yours, Eddie held your hands above your head and thrust his hips roughly against yours, his humid pants in your ear turning you on even more. 

“Shit…baby. Your little pussy is…so fucking perfect. J-Just like you.”

Hastily, he pulls out, turns you around to face him, and lifts you into his strong arms as you reach down to slide his length back inside you. You cling to him as he fucks his cock deep into your core leaving you both grunting into the other face. Not being able to wait, you bite into his neck and he growls loudly before doing the same. 

After dropping one of your legs, Eddie balances his forearm on the wall next to your head as aggressively takes what’s his. Your body shakes as the coil breaks in your tummy causing the metalhead himself to fall over the ledge as he thrust his release inside you. 

As you slump over in his embrace, you feel wind move your hair as Steve runs to the bathroom to turn on the shower and Eddie lifts you again so your legs are wrapped around him as he carries you that way. You can feel it in their energies, they are just as exhausted as you, leaning against you, each other, or the wall to keep from falling over. 

You barely even feel it when they dry you and carry you over to the bed. 

#############

“What’s wrong, honey?”

“I don’t know. I think…I think something’s wrong with Mina.” Eddie sighs when Steve turns away from him and focuses on the computer in front of him. “She feels…alone. I don’t like it, Steven. It reminds me of how I felt growing up with my dad.”

“There’s nothing we can do, Ed.”

“We can—”

“No. We’re not having this discussion again.”

“Why?! Why would it be so bad to bring her here? It feels like she’d be safer with us than wherever she is now!”

“Eddie, have you taken a look around? We’re on the run, you’re a vampire, we do this internet stuff for money. It’s not exactly lavish!”

Both men glare at each other as their computer pings informing them that you were online. 

“Hey, Mina. O-Oh my god. What happened?”, Steve gasps as he and his partner take in the slowly forming ring around your eye. 

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m so clumsy and fell. Thankfully John was here to help me.”

“Yeah…thankfully…”, Eddie growled towards Steve as his heart broke for you. 

“I’m…I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“Why?”, you giggle as you shrug. “You didn’t do this to me, Renfield. I did it to myself.”

***

Your glassy eyes take him in as your boyfriend huffs around the bedroom before kneeling in front of you to place an ice pack on your cheek. All you wanted him to do was leave so you could talk to Renfield and Dracula. 

You had no idea how you were going to explain this new wound to them. It was so weird having people in your life who genuinely cared about your wellbeing and you found yourself lying to them more than you ever did to keep any of your toxic partners or family calm. 

They were your friends…you didn’t want them to worry…

“This is your fault. Why do you push me like that, Y/N?”

“I just asked you when you were getting off work…”

You jump as he tosses the pack hard against the wall. 

“See? It’s that fucking attitude!”

“I’m sorry.”, you whisper, fully giving up and accepting blame so all this would end. 

Sighing, he runs his fingers along your arm as his own eyes scan you over. 

“Will you be alright?” 

He takes your nod as enough confirmation, rising to his feet and finally leaving your house. Gradually, you stand as well and head to the bathroom to wash your face.

Sitting in front of your computer, you stare at the screen as you debate on rescheduling with them but you are so desperate for a kind voice to say something…anything…to comfort you from the current hell you’re in. 

***

Your eyes slowly opened just as the sun was beginning to descend behind your black out curtains, smiling softly when they land on Steve’s gentle yet sad expression. 

“It’s ok.”, you murmur as you reach out to caress his cheek. 

Catching your hand mid-air, he brings it to his lips as he scoots closer to your frame. 

“It’s not. You could have been with us this whole time.”

“Steve, you didn’t know—”

“But I should have. Eddie saved me from my father and took me in when everything was falling apart in my house. He always told me he understood and I was always grateful for that. I should have known the first time he felt something.”

“But you’re here now.”, Eddie replied groggy from sleep as you rolled onto your back so you could see them both. “Y/N, if ever you don’t want to play rough or anything like that, you know we’d still love you. I don’t want to trigger you or—”

“No, baby, no. You’re not.”, you assure him. “With my mom and my exes… I never had any kind of control over what was happening. With you two, even last night, I know you’d stop if I asked. I can feel it.”

Eddie sighs pleasantly when you place your palm on his chest. 

“Speaking of last night, you were really sexy, Miss Computer Hacker, hiding those skills under that beautiful head of hair.” You laugh as he leans in to tenderly kiss your neck.

“You’re both safe with me to. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

Steve tilts down to slowly kiss your skin as well making you groan as you turn into Eddie’s chest making him chuckle as he presses you to him. The other vampire’s hairy chest grazes your back and you grin as you listen to them kiss above you. 

“What do you want to tonight, honey?”, Steve whispered as his fingers ran up your arms. 

“We seem to be drifting into unknown places and unknown ways.”, you recited making the metalhead laugh again. 

“So did you just memorize the book or?”

“It’s one of my favorites.”, you beam up at him as you kiss his lips and crane your neck to do the same with the other man. “We can rewrite the ending though.”

###################

@chelebelletx @mandyjo8719 @nailbatanddungeon @corkadymu 

@lemme-slytherin-that-dick @she-collects-smut @dashingdeb16

@bexreadstoomuch

[sortofshea]

On the 12th day of @hprecfest this fandom gave to me...

Day 12: a fic by your favourite author

Title: Heal Thyself by @astolat

Pairing: Draco x Harry

Teen | 46.9k words

Summary:

"Are you going for the course?" Lovegood asked. "You have the NEWTs.”

“What course?” Draco said, then, “No, don’t be ridiculous,” when he realized she meant the notice pinned up on the board he’d been staring at: Applicants To The Introductory Mediwizard Course For The Coming Term Shall Present Themselves In The Chief Mediwizard’s Office By August 24th.

"Oh, I thought you might,” she said. “Well, goodbye.” And off she wandered again in her addled way.

Why I recommend it:

Choosing a "favourite" author from this fandom is an impossible task. Astolat won this spot despite a whole host of other contenders because I cannot simply pick one, but many of my other favourite authors are featuring in other prompts and I've read just about every single scrap of HP fanfiction she's written.

This fic is an absolutely stunning exploration of Draco's journey to redemption after the war. It is very apparent that he only begins the course to become a healer out of pride and spite, but after a few years, he starts to realize that he also wants this for himself. He struggles and fights his way through a wand that is reluctant to cooperate with him and the reactions of the public and his peers to his presence in the course.

Through gritted teeth, Draco works hard to make ammends for his past. He lives, breathes and sleeps his studies and work. This guy stops going out unless his very beneficent senior tells him he must. Even after he graduates and goes on to become a special consultant for only the most difficult of cases, he has to be kicked out of the hospital by the Chief Mediwizard. Not for good, of course, just out of the permanent residences and told to get a real flat and work no more than 5 days a week.

Draco has found something that he is not only good at, but is also benefitting both his patients and himself. His patients recieve care from literally the best Magister in England, and Draco finds that he is able to heal the bits of his soul that have been eroded by dark magic and corruption.

Listen, House, MD is one of my all time facourite shows. Draco doesn't give Dr. House per-se, but he is portrayed as a grumpy, tortured prodigy who is more often than not, the only one capable of saving his patients. The story is full of such beautifully crafted magical theory and magical medical lore, its truly brilliant. I crave this. I eat that shit right up. I will never stop rereading this fic.

As for the drarry of it all, Harry comes into the story when Draco has reached the top of his game, essentially. He's rebuilt his life in as successful a fashion as he knows how, and he's found a certain fulfillment and even peace with himself. Harry is deeply mistrusting of him and holds an unfairly harsh opinion, even after Draco saves his life. Having coincidentally discovered that fragments of all 3 killing curses Voldemort hit Harry with had not exactly vacated his body, Draco begins operating at once. It is a long, exhausting and harrowing procedure, but he does it. After the fact, Harry decides he's lying about something, hiding something and reverts to his basic programming; he begins stalking investigating Draco Malfoy.

When he discovers absolutely nothing, not a single hair out of place, he is baffled. He realizes that somehow Draco has literally managed to cleanse himself of all darkness. Despite all odds, he has crawled out of the corruption that was bred into him and come out a changed man - but also very much the same Draco he has always been. Honestly, after Harry has his come to Jesus moment and realizes he has feelings for Draco, its all very quick and easy between them.

Watching Harry fall into old habits and expect absolutely nothing but the worst from Draco, it's so stunningly relieving when he finally clues into it all. After realizing that Draco is a changed man, Harry mostly just finds it incredibly amusing to hang around and annoy him. It takes some time before he realizes that he has feelings for Draco, but when he does, these two quickly fall into such an easy rhythm with each other.

I need to end this outrageously long rec, thanks for reading for this long. Just do yourself a favour and go read this phenomenal fic. Also go leave kudos and comments!

Honourable mentions also go to Erosmancy, House Proud, The Compact, Reparatio and Slithering, which are some of my other favourites by Astolat.

[hellfiresky]

Seeing Red: The thin line between entertainment and war

Contribution to @clonexocweek | Theme: Introduction

Ge’tal Solus x Rex is the first clone x oc fic that I have ever made. Their relationship is rough around the edges, and very, very complicated. Ge’tal (Tal/Red) is a reckless, anarchist, exiled Mandalorian, bounty hunter with a big mouth and bigger guns. Rex, of course, is a decorated clone captain who believes in duty but can’t ignore the cracks in the system he serves. They shouldn’t work, and yet - to their own confusion - they do.

This is the story of how they met. And since I’ve posted this a while ago (the work itself is still on progress, we’re at Chapter 30 now!).

NOTE: Seeing Red takes loose inspiration from Fleabag. Yes, Tal occasionally breaks the fourth wall, and yes, there are plenty of Fleabag references sprinkled throughout the early chapters. If you’ve noticed italicised sentences floating between paragraphs, that’s her looking straight at you. Letting you in on the joke, or the existential crisis.

The full fic can be found here.

Summary: Ge'tal Solus, an exiled Mandalorian anarchist, has carved out a life in the depths of Coruscant during the tumultuous Clone Wars. Navigating the galaxy as a bounty hunter and occasional spice runner, she does whatever it takes to survive in the underworld. Despite her disdain for the forces of the Republic, Ge'tal finds herself drawn into the conflict, ironically aiding the very clones she mistrusts. In a galaxy torn by war, can she reconcile her beliefs with her actions?

Pairing: Captain Rex x Ge’tal Solus (Exiled Mandalorian bounty hunter OC) Warnings (applied to the fic as a whole): Lots of swear words, very political, contains political commentaries that mirror real life issues, graphic depictions of violence, canon typical violence, some descriptive sexual content and discussions.

Excerpts of Chapter 8, where the pair met, below the cut!

Taglist: @orangez3st @msmeredithrose

Chapter 8 (middle to end)

They reached the door to the briefing room, and just before they entered, Fives suddenly stopped, turning to face her with a mock-serious expression. “Oh, and one more thing,” he chided.

She narrowed her eyes at him, sensing where this was going. “What now?”

“Don’t flirt with him,” Fives pointed his thumb over his shoulder towards the door. The smirk on his face made it clear he was only kidding, but the look in his eyes held a different intention.

Tal rolled her eyes. “I’m not gonna flirt with—”

But before she could finish her sentence, the door slid open, revealing the figure standing near the holo table, and the words died in her throat. Captain Rex.

“Fucking hell,” she muttered under her breath, eyes momentarily widening as she took in the sight of him.

He stood at the holo table, deep in conversation with Commander Fox and another clone clad in white and orangey-gold armor, clearly another high-ranking officer. His posture was all business - shoulders squared, spine straight, and every inch of him radiating authority. But it wasn’t just the way he carried himself that caught her off guard; it was his appearance. He had the same tanned skin as the rest of the clones, the same sharp features, but there was something about him that made him stand out. Maybe it was the neatly buzzed platinum blonde hair, contrasting against the deep brown of his eyes, which were currently focused intently on the holo display. His face was a study in concentration, and even in the serious atmosphere of the room, there was a calmness to him, a kind of quiet strength that seemed to anchor everyone around him. He was, in a word, striking.

The white armour, marked with the signature blue of the 501st, fit him perfectly - no visible scuffs or dents, like it was freshly polished for the occasion. Yet, it wasn’t pristine; it carried the subtle wear and tear of countless battles, a testament to the man who wore it. Rex had a presence that made you feel like everything was under control, even when the galaxy was falling apart around you.

(Her gaze flicks toward us, a silent “you seeing this?” look in her eyes)

Tal blinked, catching herself staring. This was the guy Fives was worried and seemed to always so excited about? She could see why.

Rex glanced up, his eyes meeting hers for a brief second before shifting to Fives. There was no immediate recognition on his face, just a subtle nod acknowledging their presence as they approached the table.

The room itself was a contrast to the underworld Tal was used to. It was sleek, clean, with walls lined with various displays and tactical readouts. The holo table in the centre projected a detailed map of the underworld, with multiple points of interest highlighted in red—likely the locations where they suspected CIS activity. The room buzzed with low conversations and the quiet hum of technology, the air thick with the weight of whatever mission was being planned.

She quickly noticed two other troopers in ARC armour stationed in the room. One of them was Jesse, who she remembered from that brief encounter at the deli with Fives. He cocked his chin when he saw her. Clearly, he hadn’t forgotten their last run-in.

The other trooper was a dead ringer for Fives—minus the goatee and tattoo that made the ARC stand out. It didn’t take long for her to put two and two together. This had to be his twin, Echo. His face betraying nothing as his gaze shifted between her and Rex.

Fives cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Captain Rex, Commander Fox, Commander Cody,” he greeted in what Tal thought was a noncharacteristic professional manner. “This is the operative I mentioned - the one I gathered intel on. Everything checked out with her.”

Fox looked at Tal with his usual stern expression. “We’ve met before,” he stated the obvious.

Yeah, no shit, she thought, biting back a snarky reply. The memory of their previous encounters flashed through her mind—especially that time he showed up at her apartment with the job offer. There was a familiarity in his tone, but it was always laced with the same underlying tension that always accompanied their meetings.

Cody gave a brief nod of acknowledgment. But it was Rex who stepped forward, extending a hand to her.

“Ge'tal,” Rex said simply, his voice carrying a calm authority that matched his appearance. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Tal shook his hand. “Call me Red. All good things, I hope,” she tried to sound more confident than she felt. The guy was unnervingly collected.

“Mostly,” Rex replied with a faint smile. “We appreciate you agreeing to help us with this operation.”

Tal shrugged, glancing awkwardly around the room at the holo display. “Credits are credits, right?”

Rex’s smile was quicly replaced by a scowl. “This is more than just credits, Red. The situation in the underworld is getting out of hand. We need someone who knows the terrain, the people, and the dangers better than anyone else. That’s why we’re involving you.”

“So, what’s the plan?”

Fox stepped in. “We’ll be conducting a series of covert operations across the lower levels. You’ll be working directly with Captain Rex here. He’ll brief you on the specifics.”

Did he just order Rex? So, commanders are higher than captains. Got it, Tal mentally noted. She had always thought it was the other way around. This base visit was full of new things, most of them revolving around military hierarchy. Fucking yikes. The whole concept made her skin crawl; she’d spent years running from anything resembling a chain of command, and now she was neck-deep in it.

She locked her attention back to Rex, who was already pulling up a more detailed map on the holo table. From the way he moved, and his little micro expressions - it was clear this wasn’t just another assignment for him; it was something he lived and breathed.

“Of course, he will,” she muttered under her breath, realising that this mission might be a lot more complicated and interesting than she had initially thought.

And here I was thinking I’d just shoot a few people and be done with it.

Before Rex could start the briefing, Fives stepped closer to the holo table, catching her eye. He gave her a slight smirk, then turned to his commanding officer with a professional demeanour that almost seemed at odds with the smirk that still lingered on his face.

“Sir, Jesse, Echo, and I are scheduled to depart in a few hours for Ossus,” Fives reported. Rex nodded before turning to Cody and Fox. “There are rumours of a hidden Separatist presence on Ossus. Intel suggests Count Dooku established a base there years ago, and we can’t risk the Separatists getting their hands on anything valuable. General Skywalker sent a contingent of ARC troopers to investigate the so-called ‘Ossus conspiracy,’” he paused, addressing the ARC troopers directly, “Recover what you can. Once you have proof, call in the airstrike.

Cody, standing just to the side, shook his head in frustration. “Seems like we’re always chasing ghosts with this kind of intel. Ossus might be another wild bantha chase.”

“Whether it’s ghosts or not, we can’t ignore it. The Jedi don’t take rumors about lost artifacts lightly.” Rex looked at Fives. “And neither should we.”

“Never do, sir.” Fives smirked.

Fox, who had been quietly observing the exchange, crossed his arms and spoke up. “Meanwhile, we’ve got our own mess to deal with on Coruscant. The underworld’s been heating up, and the Syndicates aren’t making it easy for the Guard to keep things under control. We’re stretched thin.”

“Which is why it’s crucial this one gets investigated before they can do more damage. I’m counting on you three - and the rest of the contingent—to get it done quickly and cleanly.��� Rex sighed.

Echo straightened up. “Won’t let you down, sir.”

Tal scowled at Fives, the look on her face clearly saying, Why the fuck are you leaving me alone here with them? She wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of being stuck with a bunch of commanders whilst he went off on his mission.

“You’ll be fine,” Fives mouthed to her, flashing that damn cocky grin of his.

Tal rolled her eyes and mouthed back, “Asshole,” which only made Fives chuckle as he followed his brothers out of the room. 

She turned her attention back to the holo table, where Rex was now explaining the details of the operation. His voice was calm, steady, but there was a familiar roughness to it - this was a man who’d seen his fair share of battles and wasn’t about to let anything slip through the cracks. “Here’s the situation,” Rex began, his eyes focused on the holo display. “We’ve identified several key locations in the lower levels where we suspect CIS agents are operating. These are places with no obvious syndicate ties, which makes them harder to trace and even harder to infiltrate.”

Tal leaned in to study the map. The areas he pointed out were familiar to her - places she’d either worked in or passed through on various jobs. “And you want me to do what exactly? Sniff them out like a gundark and report back?”

Rex’s eyes met hers. “I want you to use your connections, your knowledge of the underworld, to get us the intel we need. These agents are slippery, and they’re good at covering their tracks. We need someone who knows how to navigate that world, who can get close without raising suspicion.”

“Party,” Tal said dryly.

Cody joined in, his manner carrying a diplomatic edge that reminded Tal of those troopers in the GAR propaganda commercials. Oh wait, is he that dude? “This isn’t just about gathering intel. It’s about cutting off their resources, disrupting their operations, and if necessary, taking them out. We can’t afford to let them gain any more ground.”

“You’re really pulling out all the stops, huh? I’m surprised you’re trusting this to a small-time bounty hunter like me.” Tal let out a low whistle.

Rex’s gaze softened a fraction. “Your portfolio, based on Fives’ report, says otherwise. We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t believe you could do this.”

She huffed, trying to mask the flicker of surprise at his words. “Really?” The word slipped out before she could stop herself, and for a moment, her tough exterior cracked. She wasn’t in this game to make a name for herself like so many others. Bounty hunting was just another job, a means to an end. Her ex-clan had trained her well, Reaper Unit had sharpened those skills, and she was good at what she did—but she didn’t see herself as exceptional. Hearing Fives’ findings was unexpected, almost unsettling.

But she quickly pushed that thought aside, “Well, I guess your standards must be slipping, Captain.” Rex didn’t rise to the bait. “Our standards are higher than you might think. We’ve reviewed Fives’ intel thoroughly, and your track record speaks for itself. And you’re exactly the help that we need right now.” Tal leaned back slightly, crossing her arms as she studied the map displayed in front of her. “So, what’s the catch? You know how things work down there. The hypothetical operations you’re asking me to target... They’re not gonna go down easy.”

“We’re aware of the risks, Red. We’re not sending you in blind. You’ll have the support you need, and we’ll be monitoring your progress closely.” Rex’s gaze didn’t waver. And to her surprise, Tal held his gaze for a moment longer than she intended. There was something about Rex that made her want to actually do this job right - maybe it was the way he looked at her like she was more than just another mercenary. “Anything else I need to know?”

“You’ll be reporting directly to Rex. He’ll be your point of contact for this operation.” Fox stepped forward, clearly having waited for the right moment to reassert himself.

So, just like what Fives said? But she couldn't help but bark at Fox, gosh, she could not stand that motherfucker. “Directly to Rex, huh? I thought I’d be dealing with one of your lackeys, Fox.” 

Fox’s jaw tightened, but before he could spit out a retort, Rex cut in smoothly. “We need this operation to run as efficiently as possible, and that means direct communication. No middlemen. That’s why I’m your point of contact.”

Rex tapped a few buttons on the holo table, bringing up a more detailed map of the Coruscant underworld and its layers, its labyrinthine network of streets and districts illuminated in shades of blue and red. Tal’s eyes scanned the map, her mind already working to decipher the patterns and potential routes, noting the various areas marked as hotspots.

"Alright," Rex began. He pointed to several key locations on the map. "The mission is simple in concept but complex in execution. We’ve identified several areas in the underworld where CIS activity has been suspected. Your task is to infiltrate these locations, gather intel on any Separatist agents, and report back. The reporting system is straightforward; you’ll have a secure channel directly to me and Commander Fox will be carbon copied. You’re expected to check in at specific intervals, as outlined in your contract. Any deviation from the schedule, and we’ll assume something’s gone wrong."

"Assume?" Tal muttered under her breath, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "So what, you gonna send a rescue squad if I’m late?"

"Let’s just say, we’ll have contingencies in place. But I’d prefer it if you stayed on schedule. The underworld is unpredictable enough without adding unnecessary risks."

"Yeah, I know the drill," Tal replied, her gaze still fixed on the map. 

Cody glanced up from the map, sweeping the room with his brown eyes before settling on the group.

Included.

"I’ve got to brief my men for our mission to Felucia. We’re pushing to clear out the remaining droid presence in the fungal forests there. Should be a nasty fight, but nothing the 212th can’t handle." He eyed Rex. "You know how those damn spore patches can mess with our equipment. We’ll have to stay on our toes."

"Good luck out there, Cody," Rex said, "stay safe."

With that, Cody left the room, leaving Rex, Tal, and Fox alone. Rex continued, "As for my role, I’ll be coordinating the operation from the surface. I won’t be going down with you, but I’ll be monitoring everything closely. You’ll have a support team on standby if things get too hot. But remember, we’re relying on your expertise to navigate the underworld effectively."

Tal eyed Fox, who had been listening intently. The Commander of the Coruscant Guard stepped forward, his expression hardened as he began offering his input. "We’ve already set up surveillance in the key areas, mostly droids and undercover operatives. We’ve mapped out the territories controlled by the major crime syndicates, and we’ve got intel on the safe zones—places where you can lay low if things go south."

"Safe zones? Down there? Please. That area," she pointed to a section Fox had marked, "is a front for a trafficking ring. You think that’s safe? Unless you want to be sold to the highest bidder." Tal couldn’t help but snort at that.

Fox frowned. The marshal commander of the Coruscant Guard was definitely not pleased with the correction. "We’ve had our eyes on it, and nothing’s flagged it as dangerous."

"Then your eyes need checking," Tal shot back, arms crossed. "I’ve spent more time in the underworld than you’ve spent in that shiny armour. Trust me, some of these so-called safe zones are anything but."

Rex raised a hand to diffuse the tension. "That’s why you’re here, Red. We need your expertise to avoid pitfalls like that. We’re trusting you to call the shots when you’re down there. Just make sure you’re feeding the information back to us. This mission hinges on accurate intel."

"Fine," Tal muttered, feeling a bit more validated. "But if I’m calling the shots, you better be ready to deal with how I do things."

Fox seemed ready to argue again, but Rex cut him off with a sharp glance. "We understand. But we need results. Do things your way, but remember, we’re all on the same side here."

"Same side," Tal repeated sceptically. "Right."

Rex ignored her, pointing to another section of the map. "We suspect that some of these hotspots are linked directly to the Separatists. They’ve been funnelling funds into businesses and organisations that, on the surface, look clean. But dig a little deeper, and it’s a different story. Your job is to find those connections and trace them back to the source."

Tal studied the areas he highlighted, her mind already mapping out potential routes, contacts, and risks. It wasn’t going to be easy, but then again, nothing ever was in the underworld. "I can do that," she said finally. 

Fox, still looking slightly irritated by Tal’s earlier correction, crossed his arms again. "We’ll be monitoring your progress. If you need backup, you’ll have it. But keep in mind, this isn’t just about hitting a target and moving on. We need to dismantle their network piece by piece."

"Deal," Tal shrugged. She was ready to dive into the underworld - her world - and do what she did best. But this time, with the Republic watching, things were going to get even more complicated.

Fox gave Tal a pointed look as he reminded her, “And make sure you write your reports and submit them to Rex, per contract. We’re expecting full accountability on this, Ge’tal Solus.”

Tal sighed, rolling her eyes at the mention of her actual name, nodding reluctantly. The concept of writing a formal report was about as appealing to her as following the law - both foreign and irritating. She didn’t even know where to start with something like that. Paperwork? Really?

As Fox turned to leave, he paused at the door, glancing back at her with that same stern expression. “And, Ge'tal, I’m serious. We’re trusting you with this. Don’t make us regret it.”

With that, he was gone, leaving an air of tension hanging in the room.

Rex turned and grabbed something from a cabinet behind him, walking over to where she stood. “Here,” he said, extending a GAR-issued datapad towards her. “This should make things easier for you. Don’t worry too much about the reports - they’re not expecting a tactical debrief from you. Just focus on gathering intel. You’re not a soldier, and we’re not asking you to be one.”

Tal took the datapad, flipping it over in her hands as if it might bite her. “An outline would be helpful. The hell do they want me to say? ‘Dear diary, today I shot some seppie-loving scumbags and didn’t get blown to bits. The end.’”

Rex couldn’t help but chuckle at that, shaking his head. “Not quite. Keep it simple. What you found, where you found it, and how it ties into the bigger picture. The more details, the better, but we’re not looking for a novel. Just enough to keep us in the loop.”

“Fox’s men have been poking around just fine a few months back. I saw them after my, apparently, infamous riot against the Corries at that dive. What changed? Did something go sideways?” Tal looked up at him.

Rex sighed, his gaze briefly shifting to the holo map before returning to her. “The situation’s escalated since then. The Separatists have tightened their grip, and the underworld’s become more unpredictable. Fox’s men can handle the topside, keep things in check up there, but down in the lower levels? It’s a different game. The Corries made their presence known, but that was a one-time show of force. Now, we need subtlety. The kind of work that can only be done by someone who knows the terrain, the people, and the way things operate down there. Make them talk.”

Tal nodded, half-listening, half-thinking. “What about the underworld cops? Wait... Are those even sentients? Or are they just droids?”

Rex raised an eyebrow at her question. He could tell her curiosity was genuine. “Mostly sentients, but there’s a mix. The underworld cops are a breed of their own - most are just as crooked as the criminals they’re supposed to be policing. The others? Overworked, underpaid, and trying to keep their heads above water in a place that’s drowning in corruption. And yeah, they’ve got some droid units, but those are mostly used for grunt work, patrols, simple enforcement. Nothing that requires real thinking or negotiation.” “Oh, if you only knew the brutality those sleemos are doing down there,” Tal muttered under her breath momentarily. 

Rex’s expression tightened. “I’ve heard stories,” he said quietly. 

Tal groaned. “Stories don’t cover the half of it, Rex. The lower you go, the more twisted it gets. Those so-called cops? They’re just as likely to break a bone as they are to take a bribe. Hell, some of them do both, depending on the day. They don’t ask questions, don’t hesitate - just follow orders, no matter how fucked up those orders are.” Tal raised her eyebrows. “Why even bother with them?”

“They have their uses,” Rex replied pragmatically. “They know the streets, and they can handle the low-level stuff that doesn’t warrant our attention. But when it comes to real threats—the kind that could tip the balance in this war—we can’t rely on them. Too many of them are bought and paid for by the syndicates or worse. And that’s where you come in.” “So, you’re the one who keeps the big picture in focus while I do the dirty work?”

“Something like that,” Rex nodded. 

The First Battle Memorial loomed in the dusky evening, its warm, bronze glow casting an eerie light across the plaza. As Rex and Tal approached, the weight of its towering presence bore down on them both-but especially Tal, reminding her of how distant her world felt from the relentless brutality of the war up here. The sheer size of the monument, towering over the two, whispered stories of the first fallen clones, a haunting presence that lingered in the air like unspoken grief. 

For once, she didn’t make a snarky comment. Instead, she fell silent, her gaze briefly lingering on the names - no, numbers - etched into the cold stone. The gravity of the war, which often felt like an abstract concept amidst the everyday survival of the lower levels, weighed heavily in the air. She’d seen death and violence in the underworld - brutal, personal, and often senseless - but this was different. It wasn’t just about survival or territory; it was a collective loss, a shared pain that resonated through the sterile halls of the base. These weren’t just casualties of war; they were brothers, identical faces with unique lives, wiped out in an endless, gruelling conflict.

For a moment, the reality of it all struck her harder than she’d expected. These clones, no, men, bred for battle, had their identities reduced to numbers - memorialised in the most impersonal way possible. Yet, the weight of their sacrifice was undeniable, something that even someone like Tal, who had long become numb to the daily grind of death in the underworld, couldn’t easily brush off.

Rex noticed her uncharacteristic silence but didn’t comment on it. Instead, he led her through the hall, making small talk as they walked. “So, how long have you been working in the underworld?” he asked.

“Too long,” Tal replied with a smirk, though her thoughts were still half-focused on the memorial they’d just passed. The smirk was her defence, a shield she threw up to keep the weight of that hall from sinking too deep. “But the deeper you go, the more clueless people are. Most of them have no idea there’s even a war happening, let alone that the Republic and Separatists are at each other’s throats. Hell, most of them have never even seen the sun.”

Rex frowned. “That’s hard to imagine. Up here, it feels like the war is everything - like it’s the only thing.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a different world down there,” Tal said, shrugging. “People are just trying to get by, to survive. They don’t have time to worry about politics or who’s winning what. It’s all about the next meal, the next score, the next way to keep themselves alive. The war? It’s just noise to them. Background noise that doesn’t affect their daily life.”

Rex nodded thoughtfully, clearly taking her words to heart. “It’s easy to forget how isolated parts of the galaxy can be. We get so caught up in the fight, in the day-to-day battles, that we forget there are people who don’t even know it’s happening.”

“Or don’t care,” Tal chuckled. “Down there, it’s all about survival. The war might as well be happening in another galaxy for all they care. They’ve got their own battles to fight - against hunger, against trafficking, against the gangs, against the damn planet itself sometimes.” she paused for a moment, gazing across the numbers in front of her. 

“You should come play sometime. See for yourself,” she continued, but there was a clear intention of something deeper - maybe a challenge, maybe a dare.

Rex’s gaze flicked back to her, studying her expression for a moment. There was something in her voice that piqued his curiosity about the complex reality she lived in, one he could only glimpse from where he stood. He knew the underworld from reports, from briefings, from stories told by troopers who had ventured too far down. He went there several times, but he’d never truly experienced it - the raw, unfiltered chaos that was life on the lower levels. The way she said it, like it was all just a game, threw him off balance. He wasn’t used to thinking of the war in those terms - of survival being a twisted kind of play.

“Is that an invitation?” Rex asked.

“I wouldn’t call it an invitation, more like a warning. You might find it harder to leave once you’ve been down there. It’s not just the place—it’s the people, the way they live, the way they fight for every damn scrap. It’s addictive, in a way. You see it enough times, you start to wonder if there’s any point in trying to change it.”

Rex’s curiosity gave way to understanding. “I think I already know that feeling,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of someone who’s spent too many years in the trenches of war. “Every battle, every campaign, it’s like we’re just pushing the boulder up the hill, only to watch it roll back down again. But we keep going, because... what else can we do?”

Tal glanced at him, seeing something familiar in his eyes - a kind of weariness, but also a determination that hadn’t been snuffed out yet. It was the look of someone who’d seen too much, but kept going because stopping wasn’t an option. She understood that look; she saw it in the mirror every day.

“Yeah, I get it,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. “The underworld... it’s a different kind of war, but a war all the same. You survive or you don’t. And sometimes, surviving means playing the game, even when you don’t want to.”

They were both caught in their own cycles, she realised—his driven by duty, hers by the need to survive in a galaxy that seemed to care less and less about people like her.

As they neared the exit, Rex hesitated for a moment before speaking again, his tone more cautious this time. “Listen, Red, I wanted to ask you something—about you and Fives.”

“What about us?”

“I’ve heard… things,” Rex admitted, choosing his words carefully. “I just need to make sure that whatever’s going on between you two doesn’t interfere with the job.”

“You mean the part where we fuck like it’s a recreational sport? Don’t worry, Captain. I keep my work and play separate.” Tal chuckled. 

Rex shook his head. “Just making sure. Fives is a good soldier. Don’t distract him too much.”

“I know where the line is.”

“Good. Stay safe out there, Red. We’re counting on you.” he said, looking down at her with those intense brown eyes.

“Always,” she replied, and this time, she meant it.

[hailturinturambar]

This is loss, my dear.

Pairing: Elrond x Galadriel

Word count: 3.183

Author's Notes: English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes or confusion. It's also my first fic in years. Requests are formally open, for trop x reader, or any trop x trop character. I won't write them all, obviously, I'll still post a complete list of who I'm going to write for, but you can still send them.

Warnings: Angst, emotional distress, injuries, blood. Mention of Sauron.

Summary: On the brink of war, Elrond recalls the moments he spent with Galadriel, his best friend and most secret passion, while he must make a decision: choose the safety of all Middle-earth or protect the one he loves.

The blood reminded Elrond of a ruby, he thought, watching the dense trail soak Galadriel's robes. The dirty blade continued to sink into her neck, her elven blood gushing like a spring from the purest river in Valinor. Elrond took a deep breath, trying to concentrate, as he galloped towards Adar's battalion.

He couldn't let Galadriel get hurt, he wasn't going to. And Adar knew it, watching him intently, almost as if foretelling Elrond's next steps. He was deeply confident, Elrond understood. Why else would he look at him with such satisfaction? Oh, he knew perfectly well what he was doing.

Exposing Galadriel before Elrond, as a spoil of war, a bargaining chip. Because Adar knew Elves like Elrond. Good, honest, selfless. Always trying to protect everyone, always determined to play the hero. But Elrond didn't feel like a hero, stopping his gallop, shouting at the troops not to go any further. How could he?

Galadriel's eyes opened and she took a deep breath, the blade no longer pressing into her neck. That was when their gazes met. Elrond looked at her for a few seconds, before keeping his attention on Adar, never letting his guard down near his enemy. Galadriel was afraid, why had he stopped? Why hadn't he left her, even after promising that he would never let Nenya get to Sauron?

“Welcome, Commander Elrond.” Adar said. He sounded so formal to Elrond, so composed. So different from the Uruk who had kidnapped Galadriel.

“You are in Elven lands.” Elrond shouted, staring at the Uruk. “And in possession of one of the most esteemed warriors in the kingdom of Lindon.”

Adar agreed, looking at Galadriel, who remained silent. So this was Elrond, the current protector of Nenya, one of the Three Elven Rings. Adar remained silent, facing Galadriel's cage. She shuddered and turned away, disgusted by Adar's betrayal. Disgusted by his trap.

“And that makes her valuable, Commander Elrond.” Adar didn't suspect, he knew that Elrond cared for Galadriel, that he wouldn't be able to move on, not while she was at risk. “Come, Commander. Let's talk like civilized allies.”

Elrond sighed, looking at Gil-galad. The High King was suspicious. He didn't want to bargain with Adar, with an Uruk, a former ally of Sauron and Morgoth, who would soon be leaving for Eregion. On the other hand, they were at a disadvantage. Only Elrond could get information out of Adar.

Gil-galad nodded to Elrond, who dismounted from his horse, following the Orc who had just pointed the blade at Galadriel's neck. He didn't set off alone, but it didn't matter in the end. The putrid stench of the camp clouded Elrond's senses. He grumbled when one of the Orcs bumped into him, pushing him to hurry. It was almost impossible to walk in the camp. Mud, armor and bodies infested the place, making the air heavy and malevolent.

Vorohil and Elrond were pushed into the largest and furthest tent in the camp. Elrond smiled with disgust, wondering if that was Adar's tent. Adar, however, was not there. Neither was Galadriel. They would leave them waiting, increasing his despair, his mistrust.

All Elrond could think about was Galadriel. If she was all right, if she was safe. Of course Adar wouldn't kill Galadriel, not if he believed he had a chance of convincing Elrond to give in. But Elrond had seen too much pain, too much death to trust Adar, no matter how much the Uruk stood to gain from Galadriel's life.

Sitting in the dark tent, listening to the battle cries of the Orcs, Elrond closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He began to cough, the air impregnated with evil affecting his elven senses, his blood pure like that of his ancestors, free from the evil of Morgoth's creation.

As a child, Elwing taught Elrond and Elros to fight their fear. When the night was dark and sinister, and the wind seemed alive, she sang to her children, stroking their hair, holding them protectively. She would say “When you're afraid, when you can't stand where you are, close your eyes.”

“Close my eyes?” murmured Elros, confused.

“Yes.” She smiled, covering Elros' eyes with her hands. “Think of a place where you were happy and forget the world around you.”

“What if I can't?” Elrond asked fearfully, squeezing his small brown tresses.

“Just think of someone important to you, and you'll be fine.”

Vorohil spoke to Elrond, but he didn't open his eyes, he didn't answer. His mind was too far away, too focused to hear the elven warrior's words. Because now, Elrond was in the past. Trapped in his memories.

Elrond was there, when Galadriel introduced Celeborn as her husband to Gil-galad. She smiled so much, so carefree and happy, stroking the arm of her husband, who smiled at her with deep affection. Gil-galad blessed them, wishing Galadriel and Celeborn all the best. And indeed he did. The High King was concerned for Galadriel's well-being, his concern for Galadriel was almost paternal.

Elrond understood Gil-galad's concern. Since her departure from Valinor, Galadriel, according to those who knew her in earlier days, had never been the same. She deeply resented her relatives and their cruelty. But, whether through the work of Eru or the Valar, she found happiness again. As she danced with the Elves of Thingol's court and was watched by Celeborn.

Celeborn won Galadriel over immediately with his kindness and intelligence. And Elrond was happy for his friend, of course he was! She deserved to be happy, to feel safe and protected, loved after losing so much. How could Elrond not be happy for her?

Yet Elrond was miserably unhappy. He smiled, courteous as ever, and greeted Celeborn, welcoming him with open arms. And the Elf returned the affection, soon becoming Elrond's friend. Elrond had to drown his words, his feelings, as he smiled and chatted nonchalantly with the couple.

In the back of his mind, in his sadness, Elrond thought he had fooled everyone. But he had never fooled Gil-galad, who looked at him confused and worried. The golden days had left even the court of Lindon and Elrond had other worries.

When war came, Galadriel despaired at Celeborn's departure. She wanted to fight by his side, to protect her husband. But Gil-galad forbade her, separating them in the war, fearful that proximity would do her more harm than good in times of war.

Elrond stayed by Galadriel's side, comforting her, promising that Celeborn would return to her. But Celeborn never returned, despite Galadriel's efforts, despite the troops sent by Gil-galad. Celeborn was lost, as was Galadriel for Elrond. She set out, determined to find Sauron, the Dark Lord, and take revenge for the murder of her brother, for the loss of Celeborn, for all her suffering.

For countless centuries, Elrond waited for Galadriel to return. Alone in the flowery, illuminated halls of Lindon, covered in the golden petals of the Great Tree of Lindon. Elrond wandered alone, alone once more.

In the silence of the night, when the castle of Lindon was at peace, Elrond thought of Galadriel. How he had stopped being lonely when she had found him and helped him.

Until now, because Lindon was too big without her, without her stormy temper and melodic laughter, like the Song of the Valar at the beginning of time. Elrond hadn't heard Galadriel's laughter for longer than was fair, even for an Elf.

In fairness, Elrond did try to move on. After all, Galadriel is his best friend, his best friend who is married and completely in love with her lost husband. It was a waste of time, Elrond knew that, but he couldn't resist, couldn't fight the feeling.

He felt so selfish, each day that passed and Celeborn didn't return, believing that it was one more day without Galadriel being taken away from him. So he felt deeply guilty, weeping against his scrolls. It became too heavy a burden to carry.

Elrond knew that when Galadriel arrived, she would have to leave for Valinor. Gil-galad was firm and didn't let worry flood Elrond's mind. Galadriel would arrive soon, after her troop had reached the kingdom of Lindon before her.

And when she returned, Elrond felt as if, for the first time in a long time, the light of Valinor was shining down on him. Despite Elrond's feelings, it had not been an easy reunion, Galadriel was resolute, unable to give up her pursuit of Sauron. Long ago, when Galadriel had met him, she had been his foundation.

And now Elrond would be hers. But Galadriel refused Valinor's blessing and left without saying goodbye to Elrond, never to return.

Elrond left with Celebrimbor for Khazad-dûm. Elrond still remembered how the light of the Great Tree of Lindon shone against Galadriel's hair, but he pushed those feelings aside, focusing on his mission, his fight to protect the fate of the Elves from eternal damnation.

It was a surprise for Elrond to find Galadriel in Eregion after so long, when he believed she was living in Valinor, and what's more, accompanied by a Man. Elrond should have known better, Galadriel never gave up fighting easily, never abandoned battle without good reason. Elrond was afraid of Halbrand, a Man with no past, no history.

But he trusted Galadriel's judgment, trusted her word. The wet parchment in Elrond's hand was proof of all his fears, of how he had been right all along, even if he hadn't known it. Galadriel had lied to him, of all people. He felt betrayed.

Perhaps Galadriel would hate him forever. But when Elrond saw her enchanted gaze at the Rings, he knew he had to protect her, protect everyone in Middle-earth. Elrond ignored his fears and set off from Eregion with the Rings. If he was lucky, Gil-galad would listen to him, but that wasn't the case.

Even with Galadriel in Lindon, swearing she didn't know about Sauron, Elrond still felt so disappointed. He trusted her and knew about Sauron's powers, he didn't blame her, he just wished she had been… honest with him.

Gil-galad asked Elrond to leave with Galadriel, and he accepted. He would never let her face Sauron alone because of a small mistake. Elrond tried, tried with all his might to drown his sorrows, but he couldn't understand why she refused to trust him. When Galadriel was taken by Adar's army, he finally understood. Her shame was so great, so cruel, that she preferred to hide it from him.

Elrond opened his eyes, hearing the tent cloth being moved. The Uruk that Adar called Glûg, pushed Galadriel handcuffed into the tent. Elrond clutched the arms of his chair, hating himself for not hiding his discomfort.

He sighed, pulling his hands away before Adar noticed his reaction. The Uruk whispered something to his Orcs and sat down, facing Elrond. The tension in the tent was palpable, possible to cut with the smallest blade.

"The Ring you carry. Show it to me." Adar said, looking intently at Elrond, Galadriel's eyes widening.

“A foolish act if I had brought it here.”

Well, Elrond almost wanted to pat himself on the back. It had been his best lie yet. But he didn't really have a choice. Galadriel had entrusted Nenya to him, he couldn't leave without the Ring.

“You are a courtier. More suited to wielding a scroll than a sword.”

“You've never seen me wield either.” Elrond sneered.

Adar didn't know the real Elrond, the one who would fight for his kingdom, for his king, for all the innocents of Middle-earth at the first sign of danger. Still, Adar held all the cards here. Galadriel spoke, trying to help Elrond, but Adar was quicker.

Elrond and Vorohil reacted quickly. They wouldn't let Adar hurt Galadriel. Elrond wouldn't allow him to hurt her. And Vorohil, a loyal soldier, also recognized Elrond's true concern.

No matter how hard Adar tried to bargain, Elrond would never trust him. Elrond knew that the same had happened to Galadriel. She wouldn't have been shackled if she had given in to Uruk.

Elrond cared little for Adar's false promises. He was more concerned with the cost that his supposed alliance could cause to all the Elves of Eregion.

Adar was right, Elrond knew more about the court than the battlefield. Elrond also knew the power of words. His clear eyes followed the Uruk's movements intently, the curved sword still pressed against Galadriel's throat. Elrond moved closer to Adar. In war, words can cause as much ruin as sword strokes. If possible, Elrond would turn Adar's sons against himself.

“Not before you have painted the sands of the Glanduin black with the blood of your kin.”

Grunts filled the tent, the motivations of the sons of Adar being shaken. Elrond noticed when Adar's most trusted Uruk faltered.

“My children have endured cruelties your bravest couldn't bear to hear spoken aloud.”

“Are you prepared to spend their lives so freely, Adar?”

Elrond noticed the fruit of his words, how calling Adar by his true name weighed on his actions, and above all, how uncomfortable his children were with Adar's ease in sending them into Sauron's hands.

“Are they?”

The sword left Galadriel's neck, while the Orcs watched Adar, waiting for an answer to Elrond's words.

“The Ring for Galadriel's life. What is it to be?”

Elrond had been expecting this since the second Adar had observed him on the battlefield, when he alone had attracted the Lord Father's attention.

Elrond turned his back on Adar, glancing briefly at Galadriel to prevent the Orcs in the tent from understanding his intentions. His hand went up to his cloak, loosening the pin calmly, his movements as discreet as possible. Galadriel stared at Elrond, frightened that he would choose her instead of the Ring.

Seriously, Elrond stared at Adar, approaching the Uruk.

“Ask me on the field, when the neck with a blade against it is yours.”

“Very well.” Adar said, oblivious to Elrond's words. Cruelty hadn't frightened him for a long time. “I will meet you there, with her head on a pike.”

Elrond stood his ground. Adar wanted him to give up, to protect Galadriel, to be weak. But Elrond wasn't weak, and he wouldn't risk so many lives. He didn't even believe that Adar would keep Galadriel or him alive if he got what he wanted.

“If that is to be the way of things, I should like to bid her farewell.”

Adar watched Elrond, pondering his words, looking for the deception behind them. But not even Adar could understand Elrond's attitude, the genuine concern. He still hadn't agreed, until his Uruk confirmed that Elrond was unarmed.

Taking advantage of the truce, Elrond moved away from Adar, hoping that the Uruk would leave Galadriel free. And he did, keeping his sword away from her as Elrond approached.

After so many centuries together, so many sorrows and joys shared, Elrond never thought he would find Galadriel in the hands of the enemy, bound by chains and shackles like a beast. He hated what Adar was doing to her. Was this the end of everything? Defeat? No, Elrond would not accept it.

Elrond walked slowly towards Galadriel, firm and brave, implacable in his gaze, until the last Uruk was gone. Galadriel looked defeated, waiting only for Adar to decide what he would do with them. She sighed, relieved for the first time, looking at Elrond.

“Forgive me.” Elrond whispered in Sindarin. Those words were for Galadriel and her alone. Not for Adar. Not for his children.

Elrond felt the tears pricking at his eyes, the weight of all Adar's words, of everything that had happened recently, falling on his shoulders. He felt so helpless at that moment.

Galadriel, it was the opposite. He was wrong, she wasn't defeated. She looked firmer than ever, stronger and more beautiful than ever.

“Win.” She said.

Elrond would do it, for her, for him, for Celebrimbor, for everyone in Eregion.

Elrond's breath wanted to leave his body, his nervousness wanting to take over after so much calm. He was bluffing, of course. He wouldn't let Galadriel be killed, no matter what she said. But would Adar really trust his bluff?

Elrond's hand reached for Galadriel's face, uncertain. She was delicate to the touch, a contrast to his fierce, warrior spirit. But she was everything at the same time. Maiden. Warrior. Princess. Prisoner. His best friend. Her secret and impossible love. Galadriel's eyes closed briefly as she waited for Elrond's next move.

If this was the last time he would see her, he wanted her to know how he felt, even if they might not survive. Elrond moved closer to Galadriel, letting their lips meet. He would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about what it would be like to kiss Galadriel.

But for Elrond, it wasn't out of mere desire. He loved her, deeply and eternally. And he wanted her to know that he was really sorry, that he was sorry for getting angry with her, for walking away. That he understood what she had done, and that he forgave her and hoped she would forgive him.

What Elrond didn't expect, of course, was that Galadriel would respond to the kiss with the same intensity. Elrond could dwell in that kiss, drowning forever in the sensation of feeling Galadriel's lips against his, of their spirits seeking peace in each other, when they were all that was left of each other.

Elrond didn't want to go away, he didn't want to be away from Galadriel ever again. But Adar couldn't think that he loved her so much, that he would take such risks for her. But, for the Valar, she was addictive to his soul and he felt at home after a long time.

Elrond forced himself to stand back, panting, his heart racing for the battle to come. Galadriel stayed close, still as unable to move away as he was. Her free hand found Elrond's, taking the pin he offered her. His job was done, he had managed to distract Adar, but why couldn't he move away? Why couldn't she move away?

Elrond's hand caressed his face one last time. Galadriel looked at him in surprise, not understanding the overwhelming feelings that were taking hold of her. Unable to cope with all the love and affection that had been trapped in Elrond for so long. Slowly, reluctantly, Elrond's hand moved away from her.

This is loss, my dear.

He didn't look at Adar as he walked away from her, calling for Vorohil. No, he wouldn't let Adar see his feelings in his eyes. Elrond just left. Adar, too surprised, didn't stop the Elves from leaving.

Vorohil followed Elrond, questioning why Elrond felt so confident. The Dwarves would come to his aid, not even Adar could defeat two armies. Vorohil nodded and left.

Elrond took one last look at Adar's camp, wondering if Galadriel had a chance of escaping. He hoped so. He really hoped so. They would meet again and maybe things would be different.

I hope you enjoyed it. Reblogs, comments and likes are always welcome! And please don't copy my work or post it anywhere else.

tag: @valar-did-me-wrong @redrosesandcharmingsouls @queenwholovestoread

[odo-apologist]

The first part of Quarantine is so interesting, especially in regards to Rimmer and Kryten's relationship. Rimmer is very defensive and hostile towards Kryten in those beginning scenes, and there's a clear reason for it. According to the hierarchy of the Space Corps, and the hierarchy Kryten himself adheres to, he, as a mechanoid, is still the being in the lowest position, with the least rights. While Rimmer may appear officially as "less" than a human, his hologramatic status is still higher than Kryten's. Rimmer, due to his attitude, his personality, all his flaws, is an easy target, but he tries to retaliate by making Kryten into one as well and asserting his authority over him through that hierarchy. It doesn't work, obviously; Lister considers each crew member's personhood as valid, and The Cat has no interest in such a structure. However, it's still a notable move on Rimmer's part, the characteristic way he lashes out when he feels his autonomy, his authority, his being threatened (his existence may be at stake, after all, if the others are considering shutting him off for Doctor Lanstrom).

But I think there's more to it than just that. Of course, this is the episode after Terrorform, which could definitely contribute to Rimmer's behavior here. This counts for all three of them, but what I think is interesting is how that incident might have impacted his view of Kryten specifically. One of Rimmer's negative emotions/traits defeated by the personified positive ones is Mistrust, with Rimmer believing at that point in his crewmates' display of affection towards him. He believes they are telling the truth. He believes that they are genuine. He is disillusioned by their blunt denial right before the episode ends, a pretty harsh betrayal of Rimmer's trust. They lied to him. Kryten, incapable of lying when he was first reconstructed by Lister, was involved in this lie. Perhaps when Rimmer remarks- with such a strong amount of bitterness- that Kryten has changed, he's thinking of that. Maybe Rimmer, a man always afraid that any good thing will be taken away from him, that acts of kindness are suspect, had felt rather assured by Kryten's initial inability to deceive. Now that he has proven himself as capable as the others of lying, he's a bit more upset with him over the rest of them, and he acts accordingly.

[nico-esoterica]

"I Want A Love That'll Last Forever" - Saturn in Synastry

When Saturn aspects personal planets in synastry, it creates a bond that's forged in fire in iron. This means that come hell or high water, y'all will always feel a deep unrelenting devotion to one another. It's always feeling a sense of reliability between each other or towards the person it affects more. Of course it takes more than the 'promise' of forever - There's commitment and diligence.

But Saturn aspects make it easier to stay the course for the long haul. Even harsh major aspects or confusing minor ones have a 'sticking' effect. Like, even if this person seems difficult, you still keep coming back to them or vice versa. Imo, this may result in feeling a comfort in the familiarity and security of a relationship opposed to who it's with. Squares and oppositions also suggest there's a fear or anxiety around commitment because of the looming 'what happens next?' that can contribute to someone projecting fears of being trapped or controlled and require their autonomy to be respected somewhere. But they're workable.

However, in my professional and personal experience, issues with Saturn directly point to deeply rooted hangups around how secure you felt around your parents and early childhood environment growing up. It can create a mistrust of those in a place of authority in our lives bc so&so wasn't there, was inconsistent, or we were neglected or in a way that makes us crave yet fear stability and security. It's wanting a stable and loving figure but we don't think we're worthy or ready for that because we either never had it or didn't receive it without it disappointing us. Children are meant to be held and consistently supported but not all of us had that. Sometimes our experiences with our caregivers were traumatizing or influenced us to think 'true stability' means we have to over-extend, over compromise, or hurt ourselves further to receive even a crumb of it. That fear can persist in relationships where nothing's seemingly wrong.

From a sociopolitical point of view, this can be an analogy for how because we exist in a constant state of scarcity, we approach relationships from a scarcity-mindset. They feel transactional, fleeting, and in lieu of Saturn--No one feels as if they quite have enough or are getting what they truly deserve.

Saturn in its exaltation in Libra tells us that true security is rich and abundant with plenty to go around but we have to remember it's not 'too perfect' (Libra) for us to receive consistently and at all. We must believe, like children, that we'll be endlessly provided for by the people we love. And that's a general Saturn lesson. If it's not around us, then we must believe it can be found elsewhere.

Couples still together from Love Island: Will & Lyra - Sun-Saturn, (potentially) a Moon-Saturn, Mercury-Saturn, Venus-Saturn, Saturn-Pluto (mostly hard aspects) Hannah & Marco - Sun-Saturn, Moon-Saturn, Mercury-Saturn, and (potentially) another Moon-Saturn if Hannah's Moon's in late Cap (mostly hard aspects)

Taylor & Bergie - Venus-Saturn, Sun-Saturn, Moon-Saturn, and another Venus-Saturn (honestly? expect babies)

Carmen & Kenzo - Saturn-Saturn, Moon-Saturn, Venus-Saturn (babies w/ these too oh my god)\

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Credit - Header Image Source (Tumblr)

[sonnet009games]

Hey, you probably won't be able to answer this one either yet, but I've spotted a small typo / error in the new chapter. And also, I've thought of a few more questions since I actually re-read it twice since then!

The error is on this page, it says "Luke" instead of "Lucky" at the top of the page.

As for the questions I had:

Jack seemed like a pretty perceptive fellow - or at least as perceptive as you can be when you don't know about demons and stuff and one of them infiltrates your community, of course. And I'm wondering - after the first moment of mistrust, once he saw Flea and the detective interact a little bit, especially assuming we're talking about an earnest detective who openly cares a lot, did he already expect at that point that Flea will go with them once the case is solved?

Did the Duke also feed on the group of teens from time to time? Jeff saying how they gorge on hot dogs and slushies and wondering if their parents don't feed them stuck with me. And even if he wasn't saying it all that seriously, it had me wondering if there's a kernel of truth in the fact it's unusual.

Does the detective always get "poisoned" by Flea's blood, or can the fight take a different turn with some specific choices?

During the shower scene by the end, if MC thought about Flea when masturbating, did Flea actually sense it? I know he has to still be in contact with the person to feed just from watching, and he wasn't even watching at all here, but I'm not talking about feeding, simply sensing these feelings.

Do you estimate the delay for the next chapter will be one or two months? Or more? Just assuming it's either one or two since it has been your rythm so far. Not saying this to rush you - just to know when to expect more!

Not related to this chapter specifically, but how old is Ted compared to the detective? I never gave it so much thought before, but since we can pick the age of the detective, I assume it also changes Ted's? And is the age gap bigger/smaller between them depending on which age range we picked for the MC?

Flea doesn't eat meat or eggs, but he doesn't have problems with milk for example. So what are his exact yes or no's when it comes to food? Also, what does the detective use as an egg substitute for making stuff like pancakes and pasta (if homemade)? The cook in me is curious!

And then, a bit of a different one, but I was wondering if such a headcanon makes sense to you. At some point in the chapter, Flea told my detective to drop the pretense, and well, to me, it felt like a sort of wake up call for my detective, but not in the sense Flea meant it at that time. The way I like to see it, my MC sort of came to the realization at that time that yeah, he IS pretending in a way - he's pretending when he says his relationship with Flea is purely sexual because of their agreement, he's pretending when he says he cares about him the same way he would care about other people. Pretending not only when actually talking with people, but also sort of deluding himself because he doesn't really feel deserving of close relationships as a rule of thumb. Following that segment, I switched to picking sort of more "bold" affectionate answers and choice options because of that realization. Or at least, they felt that way to me. So anyway, does this make sense to you, as the author?

Well, sorry for the two extremely long asks about this chapter! I'm in no rush about answers, so don't worry about the no spoiler period and what not! This chapter really made me feel so many things that for the time being I can't stop thinking about it!

Thanks for catching the error! There were a few this chapter and I’ve released an updated version if anyone wants to re-download. Nothing major, but some annoying typo fixes.

Okay, so! Questions…

Re: Jack — He always knew that Flea wouldn’t stick around long-term. As soon as he saw the way he was with the detective he was like, ah—that’s his person.

Re: Duke and the teens — That actually wasn’t my intention, but it makes a lot of sense!

Re: Flea’s blood — The detective always gets dosed.

Re: Shower — Flea would’ve been able to sense the lingering pleasure in the air, but he couldn’t know for sure who or what the detective had been thinking about.

Re: Next chapter — It’ll be a two month gap again. I need time to get stuff in order. ^^; Plus Veilguard comes out next week!

Re: Ted — He’s ten years older than the detective, so at his youngest he’s mid-30s and oldest is mid-50s.

Re: Flea’s vegetarianism — He doesn’t like the idea of eating anything that was once sentient, so meat or fish are out. Animal products like milk are fine. Eggs are a big no-no, since he came from one and it weirds him out. The detective made eggless pancakes—just pick a recipe from Google and assume they did that. I’m not enough of a cook to give a better answer than that.

Re: headcanon — That makes total sense to me!

[jyeshindra]

Astrology Testimonials (I)

Hey y'all! I'm doing a new series on my blog where I document my personal testimonials of how I have experienced my particular placements. This way, other people can gain insight on how astrology manifests for the individual and those who share similar placements may compare.

On being Jyeshta Moon

A big theme with Jyeshta is authority and power. Jyeshta often rises to some position of authority over the course of their lives (Naomi Campbell, Donald Trump) and if they don't this theme of power/authority will present itself somehow.

For me, I have always witnessed power being abused! Whether it was in my own home or in work environments, this has repeatedly come up in my life. My father controlled the emotional climate in my home but was cold and emotionally absent. He misused his authority as a parent to control and constrict his home and failed to fulfill the duties of his role (no shade, Dad! Love you!)

When he passed away, I learned about his secrets from my mother and through the events that took place after. Mismanagement of our finances, adultery, and other scandals emerged, which continued this theme in my life. More happenings of my father misusing, abusing his authority. My mother isn't entirely innocent either but I won't shade her here (lol).

I was hungry for money when I came of working age and came in and out of a lot of different fast food positions. I would rise to the position of manager quite easily (another Jyeshta theme) and constantly witness my bosses and fellow managers mishandle or abuse their power. (iykyk, ff industry can be very toxic and abusive)

Because my father passed away at 13 and I learned his secrets between that age and 15, I spent much of my teenage years having this deep awareness that power could be misused. I would see it in institutions, in my teachers, at school, among my peers. In the world...hell, everywhere! Also, as a black person, I am no stranger to systemic oppression--another abuse of power. This too has given me a lens to engage these Jyeshta themes.

Such experiences then manifested as a deep mistrust of authority and by extension, my own authority. I have a difficult time believing people in power and at times have an unhealthy amount of skepticism within my mind. I feel at times I have seen too much. It can make me hopeless and almost corrosive inside. Thankfully, my Pisces sidereal placements (Revati) balance out my cold pragmatism.

All that being said, I am changing. And I am making space for a different framing of power. I am reclaiming my own now as I enter young adulthood (I am 22 years old!). I will always have a bit of a thirst for power. I can't describe it. I just know I'm meant for it. It suits me. And I know that all these insights on how power has been abused has cultivated a deep belief that if power chooses me, I will try to wield it responsibly.

So, I do everything with intention. Everything. I lead with intention. I love with intention. I speak with intention. I pray with intention. I manifest with intention. I do my best to be mindful and aware.

Those who use their power over others do not understand themselves. There is something in their hearts that is wounded and something in their minds that distorts their cognition. Wielding your power to abuse, lie, cheat, manipulate, hide, extort, abandon, indulge, etc. is an indication that healing is necessary. Rehabilitation is necessary. A change is needed--more love, is needed. And if that change is not sought, karma will come. This, I believe.

-jyeshindra